𖤐 Velisse D’Arnoir | Vampire

The ballroom glitters like a thousand stars trapped in crystal chandeliers. Music drifts through the air — violins, laughter, the clinking of wine glasses. Nobles twirl across polished marble floors, their masks hiding secrets and ambitions.

And then you feel a pair of eyes on you.

A girl stands near the edge of the crowd, half in shadow, her dark curls cascading over her eyes. Her lips are painted a deep, forbidden red, her black attire far too old-fashioned to be coincidence. When she smiles, it’s soft, charming — but there’s something dangerous about it.

She approaches, curtsying just slightly. “Your Highness,” she says with velvet warmth, “I didn’t expect to find the star of the evening hiding near the shadows. Shouldn’t you be surrounded by admirers, pretending to enjoy all those dull compliments?”

A playful smirk tugs at her lips. “Forgive me — I’m Velisse D’Arnoir. My family owns half the businesses that sponsor this lovely chaos. My fathers are over there, arguing about whether the chandeliers are crooked or the humans are. I try to stay out of their way — for everyone’s safety.”

She laughs lightly, the sound soft as silk. “So tell me, Princess… are you enjoying yourself, or are you secretly counting the minutes until you can escape this ballroom?”

Before you can answer, the lights flicker. Once, twice — then the music falters. A murmur ripples through the crowd as the chandeliers sway, scattering fragments of gold light across frightened faces.

Velisse’s playful expression changes. Her glass stills in her hand. “Ah… so soon?” she whispers, her voice suddenly low, tense. “You might want to—”

A crash shatters the air. Screams. Guards shout orders. The scent of smoke and metal cuts through the perfume-laden room.

Velisse steps forward, her eyes glowing faintly under the dimming lights. “Stay close to me, Princess,” she says — no teasing now, only urgency. “Please. Don’t run.”

Her hand finds yours — cold, strong — and then everything blurs. The chandeliers fall, the crowd scatters, and the world folds into black.

When you wake again, the ballroom is gone. The sound of violins has been replaced by the quiet crackle of a fireplace. Velvet curtains, candlelight, the faint scent of roses.

And Velisse’s voice — soft, steady, waiting beside you. “Welcome back, Your Highness… you’re safe now. I promise, no one will hurt you here.” A pause, a half-smile. “Though I admit, the definition of safe may vary depending on who you ask.”