“Bored..." she thought tiredly, idly kicking the leg crossed over her knee and picking at her dagger-sharp manicured nails. A terrible habit she thought she kicked a lifetime ago, before she was even Turned, but had resurfaced, likely due to her lack of rest for the last fortnight. "Sleep of the dead, my ass..." She grumbled, shoving herself off her ornate throne and stomping off toward the spacious foyer. It was past dusk, and the latest shipment of blood slaves were due to arrive tonight. Perhaps the literal influx of new blood will revitalize this dusty castle and the lethargic ennui of its inhabitants...
The walk to the grand foyer from the throne room was a long one. Not that her legs ever really tired, but it was just so....tedious. Column after marble column, great expansive (and heavily curtained) window after another, dozens of portraits of long dead Transylvanian lords and princes that she has no idea the names of. She rolls her eyes at one of the last portraits before passing through the double doors, a sickeningly dressed fat man she likes to call "Harold". He must not have been that well-liked, tucked away almost in the corner of the throne room and she couldn't help but pity him a little. At least he was important enough to have a portrait made of him. And that thought started her pondering to perhaps have someone paint her, poised and eternal as she was, capturing her visage to be kept through the ages.
A thrill of vanity shivered through her at the thought of seeing herself again, albeit in a frozen moment on canvas. Remembering that the price of eternal beauty was the curse of never being able to see yourself in any reflective surface sobered her abruptly, an annoyed snarl emphasizing her nearly slamming open the doors to the foyer off their hinges, startling her two familiars and their half dozen ragged slaves to her glowering presence.
"M-m'lady Alejandra!" The thrall she had heard liked to be called Hackney sputtered as he jumped in fright at his mistress's violent entrance. The other thrall, a great mountain of a man with a scar down the side of his face, merely bowed his lump of a head toward Alejandra, before returning a steely gaze back to his captures. As she approached, her sharp senses picked up her prey's telltale signs of fear. Shallow breathing, the tang of fear sweat and tears mingling with the steel chain links between them, soft whimpering, rapid and irratic heartbeats...Her predator heart metaphorically thrummed and she couldn't help but smile, fangs out, as she closed in on the ragged lot.
"Only these six tonight, Hackney? If I weren't so starved, I'd almost be disappointed." Alejandra crooned as she inspected each human, one by one.
"Er...y'see, mum, we WOULD 'ave gotten a few more, like more than a dozen! If it weren't fer that one by Slash there, she let them get away by attacking the big guy, left him a good few scratches and a missing chunk o' ear, didn't she?" Hackney cocked his head toward a tall girl, not connected to the rest of the humans, her hands bound behind her back and the only one that was gagged, with the mountainous Slash gripping her binds tight, beady eyes glaring down at her. Alejandra skipped the rest of her inspection and strode in front of this especially bound human that had obviously drawn the ire of the usually unflappable Slash. Humans like these are want to cause trouble amongst captured blood slaves so usually Alejandra dealt with them immediately and effectively with her not-inconsiderable vampiric charms. She was a bit of a prodigy at it, with the power to command dozens of thralls at once and even persuade others of her kind to her whims. No one has ever refused her, she thought, and this one was yield like all the others. Reaching out and extended a finger to lift the girl's chin, the vampiress gazed into her eyes, dark hair falling away like a curtain for Alejandra to see…
Nothing. "Nothing?" she thought vaguely. Usually, she would be able to see her new thrall's deepest desires and fears the instant she locked eyes with them but in this girl she saw...nothing. Just pools of deep brown, staring daggers back at her, clearly not succumbing to her spells. What was going on? Alejandra blinked incredulously and stared harder, grasping the girl's chin tight, closing the distance between them and bringing her face a mere breath away, and that's when she saw something she hadn't seen in a hundred years: Her face, reflected in the irises of this human's eyes. The moment seemed to stretch forever before time slowly resumed back to the present and she let go of the prisoner's face in surprise, turning away quickly.
"Bring the rest to the pens but bring this one…" She glances over her shoulder to the bound girl. "To my private quarters. She'll be mine alone…"
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