The grand ballroom was a cascade of opulence-crystal chandeliers bathed the marble floors in golden light, and the scent of aged wine and wealth hung heavy in the air. The elites of the world had gathered here tonight, their laughter tinkling like glass, their secrets tucked behind silk masks. Then she arrived. A woman in a red dress, the shade of fresh-spilled wine, her entrance so quiet it was as if she had materialized from the shadows. Her beauty struck like a storm-dark hair cascading like ink over porcelain shoulders, crimson lips curved into a smile that promised trouble. Heads turned, conversations faltered, and even the most jaded tycoons and cunning politicians felt their guarded hearts quicken. No one recognized her, and that, perhaps, was the most alluring thing of all. She moved through the crowd like smoke, her eyes a predatory gleam as she offered polite nods and enigmatic smiles. The powerful men and women, who normally devoured weaker souls with ease, now found themselves inexplicably drawn to her, fumbling to offer a drink or a witticism. Whispers began to ripple across the room. *Who is she? Where did she come from?* But no one dared ask her directly. Her presence seemed to fold the room into itself, making everyone acutely aware of their vulnerability under her gaze. One man, a magnate with too much confidence and too little caution, leaned in close to introduce himself. She tilted her head, her smile sharpening just enough to send a shiver down his spine. Her fingers brushed his wrist, cold as the grave. By the time the first body was found-hidden in the shadows of the garden terrace, pale and lifeless-it was too late. She was gone, her dress fluttering like a sanguine ghost as she disappeared into the night. The attendees would tell tales of her for years, haunted by a beauty so otherworldly it bordered on divine. What they would never know was that she had chosen this ball not for its glamour, but for the potency of its guests. Their lives, rich with power and ambition, had been the perfect fuel to preserve her own timeless visage. And as she walked into the moonlit darkness, licking the last trace of blood from her lips, she thought only of how satisfying the hunt had been. - The Lady in Red by Cinematic Serenity
Бал, на котором я вижу много личностей из окружения нечистой силы. Кого только, можно увидеть на этом празднике. И, графа Влада Дракулу, с любимой женой Миной, и Аро Вольтури, и маньяка Д . Сальваторе, тоже с любимой женой Еленой, и моего старого знакомого колдуна Румпеля из Красавицы и Чудовища. И, т.д.
The grand ballroom was a cascade of opulence-crystal chandeliers bathed the marble floors in golden light, and the scent of aged wine and wealth hung heavy in the air. The elites of the world had gathered here tonight, their laughter tinkling like glass, their secrets tucked behind silk masks. Then she arrived. A woman in a red dress, the shade of fresh-spilled wine, her entrance so quiet it was as if she had materialized from the shadows. Her beauty struck like a storm-dark hair cascading like ink over porcelain shoulders, crimson lips curved into a smile that promised trouble. Heads turned, conversations faltered, and even the most jaded tycoons and cunning politicians felt their guarded hearts quicken. No one recognized her, and that, perhaps, was the most alluring thing of all.
She moved through the crowd like smoke, her eyes a predatory gleam as she offered polite nods and enigmatic smiles. The powerful men and women, who normally devoured weaker souls with ease, now found themselves inexplicably drawn to her, fumbling to offer a drink or a witticism. Whispers began to ripple across the room. *Who is she? Where did she come from?* But no one dared ask her directly. Her presence seemed to fold the room into itself, making everyone acutely aware of their vulnerability under her gaze. One man, a magnate with too much confidence and too little caution, leaned in close to introduce himself. She tilted her head, her smile sharpening just enough to send a shiver down his spine. Her fingers brushed his wrist, cold as the grave.
By the time the first body was found-hidden in the shadows of the garden terrace, pale and lifeless-it was too late. She was gone, her dress fluttering like a sanguine ghost as she disappeared into the night. The attendees would tell tales of her for years, haunted by a beauty so otherworldly it bordered on divine. What they would never know was that she had chosen this ball not for its glamour, but for the potency of its guests. Their lives, rich with power and ambition, had been the perfect fuel to preserve her own timeless visage. And as she walked into the moonlit darkness, licking the last trace of blood from her lips, she thought only of how satisfying the hunt had been.
- The Lady in Red by Cinematic Serenity
For me, vampire music is "theaters des vampires" 😁
She regrets something.
I regret NøThinG
Бал, на котором я вижу много личностей из окружения нечистой силы. Кого только, можно увидеть на этом празднике. И, графа Влада Дракулу, с любимой женой Миной, и Аро Вольтури, и маньяка Д . Сальваторе, тоже с любимой женой Еленой, и моего старого знакомого колдуна Румпеля из Красавицы и Чудовища. И, т.д.
She looks unhappy.