In the quiet drawing room, only the sound of two people breathing was heard. The Ambrosia had the inspiration to draw a picture, something she was about to remember, the face of her son. She lived for a long time, slept for hundreds of years simply to forget that the only son she raised with her heart and had so many expectations of him simply faded in a moment… She had the impression that he was near but there was something not allowing her to recognize him.
She had been lying low, showing what Baldassare suggested. Parties to prove she was still there as a symbol for all vampires, as one of the few who lived from that era without fog; draining blood from humans to show how cruel she was while in fact, she didn't make a single decision. She was just complying and leaving things as they were because she was tired from everything.
