UNDERNEATH IT ALL, WE'RE JUST SAVAGES | PRIVATE

[Margaery]

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Pele was certainly correct in assuming that less family-friendly fairy tales resided within the four walls of her chamber. Unabridged stories of princesses who received an eternity of damnation instead of a true love's kiss and beasts that ended up eating the hero or heroine had all been collected through the centuries, quickly becoming some of Margaery's favorite novels. She knew that those topics were often regarded as morbid, especially when associated with someone as delicate and flower-like as she, but she had never cared too much. She was just as much a monster as the rest of her family- she was allowed to revel in darkness. Margaery's only concern was Pele stumbling across those tales. Luna certainly wouldn't appreciate her young daughter reading and learning about as heavy as subjects as those and, as the child wandered her room, she couldn't help but hold her breath.

Luckily, it seemed as if three other objects had piqued her attention and the Lunar Lieutenant quickly exhaled her trapped breath in relief.  A necklace, an old diary, and a... stake. She studied the latter of the items with a frown, paying close mind to the strange carvings that it bore. Yes, she remembered having to use it once before, her father bidding her to destroy a band of rogue vampires. Perhaps, it would be best to save that story for last.

[color=#b14767]"The necklace was my grandmother's," She began quietly. She hadn't known Esther very well, kept away from her and her fascination with the dark arts by her still very-mortal parents. She knew that it had been her grandmother who originally made them vampires though, selling their souls or something like that to keep her family safe and immortal and practically indestructible. Her father, in a blind rage, had murdered her. [color=#b14767]"She wore it when she attempted to contact our ancestors. She apparently used it to channel some strange power but I admittedly don't know if that's true or not. It was a thousand years ago," She supplied, lips twisting into a frown, [color=#b14767]"Whatever mystical quality it might have possessed has been neutralized now though- if you'd like, you can have it."

Margaery turned towards the red book next, drawing it closer to her to read a few lines. Unsurprisingly, she recognized her scrawling handwriting, though no date could be found in companionship to it. Oh well, she could only presume that this was perhaps two hundred years old. [color=#b14767]"This is one of my old diaries," She began, casually skimming through a few lines before chuckling, [color=#b14767]"We all had aliases at that time, I was known as Genevieve Harper, quite the little diva. I stopped writing in it when that 'life', so to speak, ended. I kept the diary out of loyalty to good ol' Genevieve, though."

Finally, it was time to talk about the stake. She lifted it gingerly, feeling its weight, its heaviness. [COLOR=#B14767]"This, dulcis, is a stake. Traditionally, such is used to kill most every vampire for good, destroying their spirit and sending them to hell," Margaery explained quietly, cautiously. She chose to leave out the part about how the only stake that could kill her permanently was made of white oak and had been lost for centuries. [color=#b14767]"I keep one just in case I need to use it. My family, of course, comes first. Always and forever. Do you have any questions?"