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Vladimir Valentin VII

Melbourne
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About Vladimir Valentin VII

  • Birthday 10/31/1990

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  1. The agony she was exhibiting was almost unbearable for the man to listen to. And yet still, his breathing did not change, the purr continuous as he remained still, letting Améa draw whatever she wished from him. The display of emotion was truthfully strange for Vladimir to see from Améa, considering he had only ever seen her as a pillar, made of stone, granite, or at least masquerading as such. Vladimir knew that all humans were capable of feeling. How much one wanted to express to others was another thing entirely. It was at that moment that images began to flood into his mind, and Vladimir focused his entire being on those images and the story behind them. A younger Améa, unlike he'd seen her before. A man, whom he did not recognize. The violins playing together almost brought a smile to his face, though he held the panther's tongue, as the sound was pain, not happiness. It began to make more sense, as it culminated together in an image of blood and knife, of violin discarded. Would that Vladimir could siphon away Améa's pain into himself to spare her the grief, but such was a folly. There was no magic on earth that could do that, at least that the dhampir knew of. There was no music, no happiness - nothing but eternal sadness and a hollowness that Vladimir felt resonating within his own beastly chest at that moment. A symphony he knew well enough as his mind broke down ever so slightly, a companion duet of images flowing from his mind. The hollow sensation of waking up alone and abandoned. The note that indicated she was gone. Cello and violin, double bass and music stand, forlorn and forgotten. Sitting alone in his silence, with only his thoughts to go through his head. Failure. Failure. Gone - no one can love an immortal. Gone - you are nothing but a problem. Monster. Vampire. Disaster. Cretin. The panther's eyes shut and his breathing paused for a moment as he reined his emotions back in. Idiot, this was not the time. His breathing returned to normal, his purr gentle and continuous once more. A slight shift in his body posture allowed Améa to hold more tightly to him if she needed to. He could aid someone else where he could not have aided himself. He had promised not to fail as her guard - perhaps now, more a confidant, but that was besides the point - and Vladimir could not afford to fail again. At least he could convey that he knew what pain and forlornness felt like. I can remain like this for as long as you wish me to. If it took all day and all night to release the anguish that resided in her heart, then so be it - Vladimir would remain stalwart.
  2. The pain that emanated from Améa was palpable, even in his panther form, the expression on her face one that was so very familiar to him. He had seen that same expression, of hurt and fear and despair, reflected back to him whenever he would look into a mirror. And though Vladimir did not know the entirety of the pain Améa was experience, he knew how it felt.. He allowed his red eyes to hold hers, patient, waiting. There was turmoil in her eyes, that much he could see, but Vladimir would press no further than the emotions he could sense and feel pulsing from his mind. The next thing the dhampir turned panther knew, Améa had wrapped her arms around his neck. If a panther’s expression could have turned into something akin to absolute sorrow, his expression did just that as he felt her bury her face into his fur. Her sobs wracked the air, and his overtly sensitive hearing found it almost painful. And yet he knew all too well how that felt. He supposed the only difference between the two of them right now was that he had not had the opportunity to release his sorrows so viscerally. Vladimir remained silent, letting Améa cling to him for as long as she wished it, a low purr ever emitting from his throat. Where he failed before, he would not fail again, and he could redeem himself. Even though his family had forever told him that what had happened with his first love had not been his fault, he blamed himself. That she had been a coward, to flee and leave him with no word, and no closure. Or perhaps he had been the problem all along. Here, at least, he could comfort someone else’s pain. And so he did not move, keeping his body still, allowing Améa all the time in the world that she needed. He wasn't about to go anywhere.
  3. So she would not protest him playing more, but Vladimir wondered if he truly ought to. The song that came from Améa's mind kept permeating through his own brain, and every new note and sequence etched itself within his mind. His eyes turned up from his bow hand and the cello strings to look at Améa, watching as she began to hold the feline close. Vladimir could not smell fear from the animal, so there was no fear there for anything. But... Were those tears? Vladimir could smell the saltine drops with his enhanced senses, and the man paused in thinking of music. His face did not change in its expression, but he could feel his heart crack a little bit within his rib cage. The music he had played had affected her, or perhaps it was in combination with his words and the music he could hear running through her mind. Was there a story behind it? Vladimir did not want to pry, but without answers, he did not know how to help. What a terrible guard and companion he was, then, if he could not help the person he was charged with watching over. He did not even know that Bach had been the soundtrack to Améa's life whilst they had attended Tallygarunga together. Even as he had played upon the rooftops, he could sense someone nearby, but with so many conflicting scents, and his own sorrows and problems, looking into had never happened. If he only knew... With Améa in her current state, Vladimir set his cello down gently within its case, putting the bow away before the strings could be damaged in any way. The smell of tears was still there, and a sense of sadness that pervaded the air, to which Vladimir certainly wanted to fix. Perhaps... Yes. Perhaps that would help. The cat could not stand to be within her hold forever, even if it had grown to find her comfortable. Vladimir had a solution to this. So without much thought, he closed his eyes and let himself shift, bones reforming and fur spouting, his ears changing place and shape until he found himself on his four panther paws. The cat squirmed, and Vladimir approached carefully, the panther's red eyes fixated on the feline, until he was close enough to gently touch his panther head upon her shoulder.
  4. As Vladimir focused upon Améa and her words, the man could hear sounds entering his head. Music. Notes. Pleasant, if not seemingly augmented in volume. He was not the source of it, and thus logic could only dictate the source to be Améa. This seemed to be confirmed when she expressed to him that the song she wished was not known. As to why it would not be known, Vladimir could not entirely fathom, though he suspected it might have something to do with her family and her magical line. ”I see,” Vladimir replied verbally, opting for using his vocal cords considering Améa had now done the same. He could hear it though within his mind. Vladimir began to memorize the sounds as they entered. In the meantime, he observed the woman turned child sitting there with the cat; it was perhaps a welcome though internal relief to see her eyes turned back to the shade of blue that Vladimir recalled from their days at Tallygarunga. His own red eyes blinked slightly as he continued to process the notes within his head. He locked them away for the time being, as he prepared to play the cello for his audience. ”As you wish,” he told her softly, lifting bow to strings and beginning to play a melody that had been with him since his earliest days; a song mastered by the age of ten and had been the melody of choice upon the rooftops of the school. His face expressed the emotions that would not come forth otherwise these days, a departure from the normal stoicism. Vladimir’s face continued to dance with emotion until the final note sounded, and he allowed his bow arm to rest; his facial features changed as well, and returned to stone. ”Music is a language that need not be translated. It is universal, crossing multitudes of boundaries,” he mused softly to Améa, his mind training to hear more of the notes of the song she had been thinking of previously. ”Shall I play another?”
  5. Vladimir watched with inward curiosity as Penny’s face turned from intensity to delight. The human condition was fascinating that way, he supposed, It had been years, even before he had gone to Moscow; he did hope his social skills could hold up in the face of encountering an old classmate. Red eyes turned to look from Penny to her daughter, the little one greeting him. Goodness, how time went by so quickly. The smallest of upturns occurred on his lip, a tiny partial smile to indicate his good humour, though his face remained fairly impassive, stoic. “It is lovely to meet you Lily. Last I saw you, you were naught but a little baby,” he told the girl gently, before refocusing his attention on Penny. Ah, yes, the life questions. Lovely. I consider myself an absolute failure in the human relations department. “I have been well, thank you for inquiring,” he told her, shrugging his shoulder slightly to indicate the case upon his back. “And yes, I played the cello. I am the Maestro of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, though I had spent a fair number of years in Moscow with their symphony.” At the very least he could leave out answers to the questions of life, love, and family. Focusing upon music was always the better course of action. Eyeing the foot traffic needing to work their way around the impromptu gathering, Vladimir held out his arm and motioned towards the cafe to their left. “Shall we move aside?” “And you, Penny? Has life been treating you well?”
  6. Adjusting to life within the rambunctious household was strange, and frankly at times quite difficult. Vladimir often enjoyed silence, and even when he had been a child and growing up, he knew he could have the solace of his room or the treehouse to get away from the chaos the twins would cause. Seeing the animals however was always lovely, and Vladimir assisted Mrs. Blair with the chores, not because he had to, but because he very much wanted to. She insisted he call her Mary, but he could not bring himself to do as such. She also seemed to insist feeding him until he was fit to burst. His dhampiric metabolism had found it odd to adjust to this new diet. Without a source of blood, there was only so much he could do. Everyone was welcoming though, which was lovely, though Vladimir’s face never truly expressed his feelings over it all. The man had taken a moment to restring his cello, but inside was noisy, and Vladimir needed a slightly quieter ambience. Vladimir exited and spotted Améa sitting with one of the cats; it was still strange to see her in the guise of a child when he knew all too well she was not much younger than he was. His red eyes locked upon the necklace, and the reason why he was there. He was stronger than his brother, more in tune with the vampiric blood within him, and thus more suited for the task of defending the home and the charges within with his very life if he had to. The autumn air was welcome, feeling the breeze gently through the fabric of his dress shirt. Black, matching his hair and his cello, Vladimir conjured a chair to sit upon, preparing to set up the instrument, though his eyes fell upon Améa from time to time with the cat. “The scent of fear is dissipating. The cat is content,” Vladimir told her quietly as he finished preparing the cello, bow soon in hand. He blinked, face impassive as he realized this meant he had an audience for his practice; it was of little consequence, and he knew Améa valued silence as much as he did. Still… Would like for me to play anything in particular?
  7. Viktor had stopped by the home with the triplets, and this gave Vladimir the time to take a quick respite out and attend to some errands. He needed more notation paper, and strings for the cello. He had admittedly played more of the cello whilst staying at Stuart’s home than he had originally thought; the children and Améa seemed to enjoy the music produced. Vladimir did not plan to be away for long. The man did take his assigned task of keeping watch over the home more seriously than most likely thought of him, save perhaps his brother and Jezebel. Perhaps Améa realized it by this time as well, but Vladimir did not question her; he hardly if ever questioned anyone. It was not in his nature to pry. Vladimir apparated to Melbourne, for the moment observing the city and the people milling about. People with their children, school finishing for the day. Individuals leaving work. Vladimir watched them all with his red eyes, before making his way to the shop. He was quick, methodical, with his purchase, gathering the items and placing them in his cello case. He still received the same stares for the shape of the case, a black victorian coffin, that housed the black cello within. With the case secured by a strap to his back, Vladimir exited the shop, and prepared to return to Narragyambie; he needed to locate a safe area to disappear. As he walked down the sidewalk, the man eyes locked upon a woman with her child, and for the first moment he thought nothing of it. Then he stopped. The scent was familiar somehow, faint in his memory. His red eyes locked with the woman’s, and the realization came to his mind. Vladimir knew her, and looking down at the child with her, he knew her too. “Penny,” Vladimir stated, not in the form of a question, but a statement. “Penny Quinland. It has been some time.” An understatement to be sure; it had been years. The little girl by her side… “Is that young Lily?”
  8. 6 May, 2018 For the last few weeks I have been stationed at the home of Stuart's mother, charged with watching over the home, and watching over Améa in her current state. The events of the party last month still have not left my mind, though I suppose it goes without saying. I saw magic unfold that I had not thought was even possible. I saw my brother succumb to the beast within our blood without a second thought when he saw what happened to my niece Lorelei. In the time since the incident, however, I have gotten used to the situation at hand. The triplets are often here, which I always enjoy - the children are very dear to me, and have helped me cope with my own troubles. Anastasia and Viktoriya even came over to visit with everyone, which is always full of amusement, though I try to keep my face as neutral as possible. The one factor I was not entirely prepared for was Mary and her... insistence in feeding me. As a Dhampir, my need for solid food and drink is not as necessary for survival as in the full blooded human being. If I had a steady source of blood, then perhaps my need for food would be even lessened, but I do not have this luxury. Even so, it is very strange to experience Mary and her ways. She is a lovely woman, to be sure, but nevertheless it has taken some getting used to. I know I have not put on any weight since I have begun to stay at the home, but there are days when after the evening meal, my trousers do feel a little tight around the waistline. It would be rude otherwise to deny my gracious hosts. I have not become complacent despite all of the hospitality. I have been given a task after all, and I cannot fail. I cannot be a disappointment again. They do not know what I have to atone for, and I truthfully do not plan on telling anyone. If, if, there were one individual I would not have much of a qualm in discussing my past and the emotional turmoil that occurred, it would be Améa. I cannot at the moment burden her with any of that. No, not when she is the battery they spoke of, and we must make certain that she does not tap into any of it. Seeing her as a child has taken some time to get used to. I must stop writing for the moment, as the triplets are here and they wish for me to play the cello for them. I must oblige them; perhaps Améa will want to listen to it as well. I shall continue writing at another time.
  9. Whilst Vladimir kept his brother bound to the ground with his umbrakinesis, the man could feel something else. It made the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rise up, but there was no danger. It was almost soothing. The stinging that had begun to pervade his senses from where Viktor had clawed at his face began to fade away into a dull throb. That was when his eyes locked onto Améa’s, and the man forced himself not to blink in turn. His red eyes focused upon the woman, as clearly she was the source of this. He could hear his brother’s heart beginning to slow down, and as he watched Améa use her magic, he could see the triplets leaving her side to pile upon their father in hugs. The threat Viktor had posed was gone, but even if Vladimir had been worried, he still would have done what he did next. He let the darkness fade away slowly, releasing the man from its bonds. Viktor would not harm his children. Thank you, Améa, Vladimir expressed in his thoughts, an earnest tone that did not often his his verbal speech, eyes still on her even as his own magic faded away and disappeared completely. Vladimir’s own aches from being thrown, punched, and clawed were all dull now. Truthfully blood would do him well to recover, but there was no source to be had. Viktor, for his part, had at first tried to struggle against the darkness that bound him, but the blood that was boiling between his ears was beginning to die down. His fangs were shrinking back to their normal length, and he could sense something strange, a different kind of magic. It seemed akin to what Jez was able to use when he felt ill and wanted to soothe him. His expression changed completely when the triplets came over and piled on top of him in hugs. Oh, his little ones, his babies, Viktor’s face welled up with tears, moving the youngsters enough so that he could sit up and wrap his arms around them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath, trying to calm his breathing down, the rage gone now and leaving him with the gnawing sensation of worry and underlying anger at what had been done to his eldest child. Vladimir left his brother be, and wiped away the blood that had remained on his cheek. His eyes turned from Améa to Jezebel and Flora, observing the exchange between them. A battery? Vladimir did not entirely understand what Flora had meant by that, but the girl’s demeanour was strange, at least to what he had seen when he had first met her those years ago. His eyes turned to Améa again when she so readily agreed to be this battery they spoke of. Are you certain? He asked of her silently.
  10. Vladimir watched the proceedings with his face blank, his red eyes focused upon Rheldor and the other introductions. It was somewhat disconcerting; nothing could remain so happy and carefree for long, it never worked that way, at least in Vladimir's experience. Disappointment and tragedy would be rife, it always was, and Vladimir was simply waiting for some sort of disaster to happen, without making it apparent in his facial features and within his very thoughts. It was as he observed the triplets and Améa that he saw a look of pain flash across her face, and Vladimir could feel a strange sensation flow through him. Sleep? No. His pupil's narrowed, and the man quickly tapped into his dhampiric blood, fighting the urge to sleep, watching as Améa fell asleep, the triplets curling up with her. Everyone was collapsing and falling asleep, and Vladimir felt a sharp sensation go through his mind. No, he could not sleep. Not now. Vladimir went down onto one knee, his brow furrowing as he tried to fight the sleep, watching as not even Jezebel and her family were capable of fighting the spell. His dhampiric blood could only hold out for so long - he was not a vampire, who needed no sleep at all. His own brother had collapsed, and Vladimir knew he was not too far from it himself. Damn. Vladimir's eyes closed, unable to hold out from giving in to the need for rest.
  11. The fact that Améa remained silent was not of any consequence to Vladimir; it seemed hardly any different than her usual disposition. As such, when she merely inclined her head for him to follow along with her and the triplets to investigate what was happening, Vladimir merely inclined his head in return. He kept his red eyes trained upon the triplets and Améa as they walked, the man looking down at Veronika as she made her inquiry. Her question coaxed a small smile from him, as the triplets were easily able to bring forth in him, though he shook his head in response. Her question had made Améa smile as well; Vladimir had not missed it. "I am afraid not, Veronika, as I am not well versed in fairytales. Would you explain the costume to me, please?" The man inquired as he allowed his fingers to gently graze the top of the girl's head, fingertips ghosting upon her hair. His eyes soon fell upon the man that was now the centre of all the attention, his arms now around young Alexander. Vladimir, catching Améa's look, merely shook his head in the negative. Vladimir had no idea who this man was, but it seemed as though there was no reason to panic. His dhampiric senses remained alert, of course, but not to the point of worry. Though their language was still strange to his ears, it was plain to make the connection that Rheldor was referring to Adele and Alexander as his children. For his part, Vladimir remained silent during everything, his eyes drifting from Rheldor, to Adele and Alexander, to Jezebel and Viktor, finally landing upon Améa to sense... A change in her demeanour, to be sure. Sadness? Possibly. Vladimir elected to remain close to Améa and the children. This Rheldor fellow seemed amicable enough, but Vladimir had been dealt too many wounds and surprises in his lifetime; he would not let down his guard that easily.
  12. 31 March 2018 How strange it is to be back in Melbourne after so many years away. It is wonderful to see mother and father on a daily basis, of course. To see Anastasia and Viktoriya, Viktor and Jezebel. The triplets and Lorelei have grown. And yet, none of them can quite understand what I have experienced in my time before and immediately after departure to Moscow for the symphony. What option did I have? Hardly any - it served as the perfect escape from the gaping hole that had been stabbed into my heart those many years ago. Having returned back to Australia however, for all the experience that my time away gave me, to afford me the prestigious title of the Maestro of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, it was not the best thing for my emotional state. To be completely and totally alone is a horrible experience. Viktor and Jezebel have been wonderful, of course. They have welcomed me back into the fold with open arms, inviting me over to dinners and afternoon tea. True, there were pieces of information I was given that was serious in nature, but to balance those moments out, I was gifted the ability to simply spend time with them for the sake of being there. I do not talk, but that does not mean I do not feel - something many seem to not correlate. I find spending time with the triplets and Lorelei have helped since I returned to Melbourne. The children are incredibly intuitive - Veronika especially, though perhaps that is merely my own self-bias coming into play, as she seems the one most attached to me of the four children. I find it interesting considering I know she is not of my own blood - she is Améa's child, from that night in the library. At the very least Viktor knows now. Hiding that from him for all these years has been difficult at best. But my word is worth its weight in gold, and I would not falter with such a secret. Not with news of this Zane creature and the history behind him. If I ever met the cretin, I am not certain I could hold myself back - from what little I know, and from how I witnessed Améa that day in Narragyambie, the man does not deserve a day in the sun. The event tomorrow should help, however. Viktor and Jezebel tell me there will be many people, and I will have to try my best to associate with them as normally as possible, all things considered. My social skills have certainly been stunted. It is one thing to play the cello for the masses - they sit in their seats and listen with their ears, and leave once the performance is over. It is another thing entirely to have to greet each individual and converse. So much can be said with so little, and yet not many seem to understand this. No. Enough of these negative thoughts. Tomorrow will be a day of fun. Viktor even gave me instructions on what sort of costume I should wear to fit the theme. So many people will be there, and I must do my best, even if it means to hide my own anxieties and troubles deep down into the depths of my mind and soul, so that no one can see the depth of the struggle. I do believe I will try to stay close to the children. Their intuitive and loving natures aside, Lorelei, Valerian, Violetta, and Veronika are all still children - their sorceraic and dhampiric bloodlines aside, and children are indeed oft to get into trouble. Anastasia and Viktoriya taught me much in their own youth, and to this day. I will hopefully see Améa as well - I cannot quite explain why I seem drawn to her. Perhaps it is her own silent nature kindred to mine own. I recall her from the days at Tallygarunga, and more recent events. Flora did seem awfully keen on the two of us as well... I should very well stop writing now, though, before I allow myself to get carried away. Tomorrow I shall hopefully have brighter things to say regarding the party. For now, I must attempt to sleep.
  13. Vladimir blinked, unperturbed that his twin had decided to play a prank on him; Viktor was much more inclined to such things, as well as the twins, than he himself was. "At the very least, Viktor elected to have me dress up as something suitable to my tastes," Vladimir remarked to Jezebel with a partial smile on his face. No matter, he loved his brother all the same. His mind did not dwell too long on that however as his red eyes turned to Dave. Ah, yes, Vladimir remembered him. "I do," Vladimir remarked quietly, giving the man a slight bow, but keeping his red eyes intently locked upon his own all the same. He had heard some of the details from Viktor while he had been in Moscow, but neither had Vladimir wanted to pry further than what his twin explained. "A pleasure to see you again, Dave," he greeted solemnly. His eyes then darted to observe his brother who was approaching Jezebel, and the red eyed twin gave his brother a nod before he began to move through the crowds of people, nodding politely to everyone that he recognized. Headmaster Burdette. He saw Grandfather Vladimir. Little Maksim and Ekaterina. Ah, Améa and the triplets, and young Lorelei. "Greetings children," Vladimir said to the group, giving the triplets a smile that did not often come out amongst so many people, so public rather than private. He let himself press a kiss on the foreheads of each of Lorelei, Valerian, Violetta, and Veronika, nodding to Améa when he had finished greeting the latter of the children. "Hello Améa," he added quietly, before he looked up at the commotion happening near Adele and now Jezebel. Who was that man? Vladimir's pupils narrowed, if only because he did not know who this new individual was.
  14. Vladimir's Easter morning was already filled with enough excitement to last him for the next while, but who was he to deny his little sisters the wonderful joy of teasing him? He had met with Anastasia and Viktoriya earlier, giving them their gifts for the day, though they looked at him solemnly and said in unison that they had forever forsaken the consumption of chocolate. It wasn't until Viktoriya pointed at the calendar that the man realized what the girls had done to him. April Fool's indeed. Vladimir still loved the girls anyway. Then there was the matter of the party at the Victoria Reserve. The twins were already off and away to investigate the happenings, matching jester costumes in blue and orange for their respective tastes. Vladimir, his knowledge of fairytales and the Alice in Wonderland world being very limited, had asked his brother what the best course of action was. Viktor had assured him that a costume that went by the name of Tuxedo Mask would be more than sufficient for the event. Vladimir trusted his twin's opinion. Vladimir had neglected to look at the date. Now, as he stood there with the tuxedo on, the pendant, the top hat, mask and cane, he realized that perhaps this outfit was not a part of the fairytale world, but how was Vladimir to know? At any rate, the twins hadn't corrected him, though he should have suspected that their giggles meant more than their words did - that he looked absolutely dashing! Eventually, Vladimir was able to locate Jezebel, the twins having gone and captured Viktor for themselves before happily entrusting themselves with entertaining the triplets and Lorelei. Approaching the woman, Vladimir gave her a bow, as was his norm, likely made doubly formal considering the outfit. "Hello Jezebel, it is certainly quite the festive party thus far," Vladimir remarked quietly, a hint of a smile reaching his red eyes behind the white eye mask. "I think Viktor played a bit of April Fool's mischief on me, considering I do not believe this Tuxedo Mask character is from a fairytale."
  15. Vladimir remained in place, watching everything as it happened, from the conversations to the departure of Adele, to Améa's admonition of Flora's unexpected arrival at the party. Being mostly out of the loop, other than knowing that Jezebel, Améa, Adele, and likely all the rest were of a group of people that Vladimir was still attempting to understand of his own accord. Viktor was useful for helping to explain things, but Vladimir needed to experience it for himself. And so he was now, as young Caleb spoke of having hundreds of birthday, and planned to celebrate each and every one of them. But first... "Grief is a powerful emotion," Vladimir intoned, knowing all too well how that worked and how it felt, "And not an emotion most wish to express to the public eye." Truthfully Vladimir's attention was then grabbed upon the mention of music and a band, and though he was certain it was a band in the non-classical sense, music was ingrained into his system. It was his profession after all. Focusing his red eyes upon Alexander, Vladimir inquired politely, "You play an instrument, Alexander?" Veronika upon his shoulders smiled brightly and said, "Uncle Vladimir plays the cello! He's the best cellist in the world." Perhaps not the best in the world, Vladimir mused to himself, but he kept his face neutral regardless. "The cello, yes." He made no verbal commentary about Adele's departure from the room. "Aye, luv," Viktor had said to Jezebel, and decided to leave that part of the conversation at that. However, the man's blue eyes traveled from one member of the room to the other, and finally his senses honed in on one scent that was different from the rest. The girl with Alex, Cassandra. Catching his twin's eye, Vladimir's eyes followed suit and after a moment, he nodded in assent. So Viktor's thoughts were correct. Not human, nor a werewolf, nor a vampire, dhampir. That left the elves, the veelas, and the fairies. From what the twins could detect, it did not seem possible to be the first two. A fairy, or at least, some part fairy. Viktor and Vladimir remained silent on their thoughts; they would speak more of it later, and Viktor knew he would talk to Jez about it all once the party was done - and hopefully without too much in the way of drama and explosions.
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