France, 1972

Drolta didn't usually spend much time lost in thought...but today. Today she was at a loss. She was left by her goddess, and very nearly killed by a fellow vampire. Her usual domineering and fierce attitude is replaced with solemnity. She walks to the harbor at night. The waves swell and crash, speckled with reflections of the stats in the night sky. As she stares at the water she sees something strange move. A body. A...living body. You. A siren.