Your Grace, Duchess of Moldova... I suppose it is time to go home now, isn't it? I will not miss the curses. But just now... I almost wish to stay.

A celebration... In a time like this. Has anything good happened in this place? Anything that deserves a celebration? The only things I have seen here caused pain for the people. Or is this from a need to distract ourselves? I don't wish for distraction. Your Grace, Duchess of Moldova, I will look after the household while you attend.

U... Uncle... Uncle Süleyman? But how... No... You are not really here.


((OOC: Enter the ghost of Süleyman, for all Empire folks to flail about.))

He is my uncle. How could I not love him?

Astaroth, your Grace, and whoever else I spoke to... I can't begin to apologise.

Uncle Süleyman? Where did you go?

((OOC: Normal human girl with no memories of being a vampire at all. Normal for... TB world. Just a TB world without vampires. :D))

Who would...? Is anybody hurt?

Your Grace, Astaroth - What happened? Who did this?

"T"... What did that mean? It wouldn't come off. Where is she? They haven't... They can't have hurt her. She was innocent. They would know.

Astaroth... May I speak with you?

((OOC: T for "traitor" - or T for "trust"? :D))

[ Somewhere around the carousel, there's a girl of about 16-18 years, lying on the ground. In a blood-drenched dress, and with bullet wounds. She's too weak to stand, obviously half-delirious from pain, fighting for breath - still conscious, but barely. ]

...sthe... ther... where... a-ah...


((OOC: In person only, I'm afraid, since she's not in the condition to do much such as using a laptop. This is her entrance from the end of ROM IV: Imitation Star. She has been shot by the Inquisition and hit with UV-light, so that she is close to death, but still alive as of yet.))