A guest
There is a dark haired young woman wandering through the mansion's gardens, moving with a languid air, as if half asleep. She is perfectly healthy looking, but every so often she stops to rest, her eyes bright with exertion, a flush coloring her cheeks. A proper Victorian woman is what she appears to be, unused to strenuous exercise yet still out enjoying the early autumn sunshine and crisp air. Her actual nature is much more sinister, but surely no one wants to hear of her death and burial as Countess Mircalla Karnstein, her rebirth as a vampire, and the long years spent preying on innocent young girls. It is such a dreadfully dull tale.
Seemingly worn out, she settles down on a bench in the garden, gazing at her surroundings with heavy lidded eyes, like a cat in the sun. She looks a bit lost; the sort of woman who needs to be protected and cared for. Won't someone come and help her? She is so innocent and sweet. Won't someone come and be her dear, special friend? Carmilla will love you for it. And love will have its sacrifices.
Typist: Victorian, shapeshifting, lesbian vampires for the win? Introducing Carmilla from the 1872 novella of the same name. (Making her technically the oldest vampire on df. Take that, Anne Rice vamps.) She really does want a dear, sweet friend of her own to court and slowly devour. I couldn't hold her back any longer.