Mirina walked slowly out of the small, shabby apartment the Prince had arranged as a haven, her two-toned eyes fixed on the ground just before her feet as she moved gracefully towards the street, her blue and white dress still torn and stained with her blood at the collar. She was having trouble concentrating, her mind swimming with the strange image of a shadowy web spanning the globe, gentle tremors twitching the silken strands, sending messages, whispers to those caught in it. It was only the second night since her... transformation. Three days ago, she had been a normal young woman, if a bit odd. Her grandmother had always said she had the sight, but she hadn't really given it much thought before now. 'Perhaps,' she considered, 'that is why he chose me. Why he brought me into the night.'
The fledgling sighed, pausing at the end of the alley leading to the apartments over the pawnshop. She glanced over to the right, smelling something... tantalizing, at the same time as a loud voice started talking about Mercury, broken and bloodied by the sand-devils. After looking around carefully to ensure that the voice wasn't heard by anyone else on the street, she shrugged and moved where it indicated, her eyes flickering briefly over a well-dressed man before fixing on a trail of blood leading into a building from the nearby parking lot. Smiling a little oddly to herself, she opened the door, following the blood as a second voice joined the first, muttering about thin blood and sand, and slaughter over water. The cacophony was difficult for the young vampire to decipher, and she paused before opening the door at the end of the hall, her brow furrowing as she tried to silence the words. 'Too loud!' she thought, 'Why must you be so loud! Silence, damnable voices, there is work to be done!'
Apparently undeterred, the voices continued, though the one speaking of Mercury managed to overcome the second voice, making itself heard as she pushed open the door, finding a young looking man lying in a broken heap on the couch, blood seeping from his many wounds and his eyes squeezed shut in a pained grimace. A third, quiet voice, spoke up, briefly silencing all others. 'The man on the couch...'
Out loud, she asked, "You are the fleet-footed god, bloody Mercury who is to be my guide?"