Deep in the dark streets of Berlin
there was a beautiful girl servin'
bruises and injuries all over a body.
"Oh dear, I overdid it again, how naughty."
She let it die, the mortal being.
Yet again people won’t be seeing
the true colors behind her pale beautiful skin
weighed down by the burden of her master's sin.
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"What?! I refuse to be a mere pawn, dammit! I am so sick of being used by the Elders. I'm so sick of this life. I... pardon, you don't understand, don't you, pretty little thing?" The girl looked at him wide-eyed. Innocent. Foolish.
He was getting tired of this. Of everything. He felt powerless against the might his masters had built up for centuries. How was one supposed to topple that? He crumpled up the letter he received with her and let it burn over the fireplace. Gods, how much he hated being treated this way…
But... he wasn't a Ventrue for nothing. They chose him for his cleverness and he would make damn sure that he uses that cherished brain of his for overturning everything that makes up this old overaging system in dire need of reformation. His masters have lived for too long. It was time to let fresh wind blow over Berlin and let the old ones rest in peace - for good…
Darian smiled sweetly at the livestock his masters had chosen for him today. As if he couldn’t have found a suitable victim himself - treating him like a damn child. He caressed her cheeks and brushed a thin strand of hair out of her face. “They told me to only do as they’re told, but… I am always one to surpass expectations.
How does ‘Darian Teufel, Prince of Berlin’ sound to you? Enchanting, is it not?” She shivered with every touch of his cold fingers and he felt the hunger inside of him rise. The hunger for blood, but even more so the insatiable hunger for power.