YOURS, V.M.

of course, naturally, valdo invited a PRETTY WOMAN back up to his room at the inn after a wonderful performance. who doesn't love a warm body to lie with after a rousing round of applause? now, he's not necessarily the smartest man in the world, because as he feels the biting along his neck… well, he winces.

"darling," he murmurs, looking over his shoulder. "your teeth are awful sharp. . . why don't you take it easy?"

♪ "will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?"♪

it is always wonderful to play at court, and queen rosalyn is always a joy to play for -- her youth lends her to not be as picky with her song choices. he strums the lyre, plucking the strings with his fingers, letting his vibratto carry as the party dances a waltz.

♪ i pray for the wicked on the weekend -- mama, can I get another amen?" ♪

there's a pretty man at the open mic at nadja's club. his fangs flash in the dim light as he sings this contemporary song, but boy does he know how to light up a room. to his vampire brethren, he's known as valdo marx -- that sounds much better than the name he was born with centuries ago.

♪ "wooooah, it's satuday night!" ♪

"a million shards of glass that haunt me from my past."

is he valdo or pawel? are they one in the same, or are they distinctly different? every time he thinks of his childhood, of the old knight, his whole body tenses -- -- but if he didn't go through all of that, would he be who he is now?

it's clear valdo is drunk at the table, glancing at the purple eyed mage across from him. she is different from sabrina. he leans into his hand, smiling. "i've spent a lifetime running." he chuckles.

"you look like i need a drink."

♪ "hand in my hand, and we promised to never let go. we're walking a tightrope." ♪

a youthful valdo strums his lyre, catching calanthe's eyes across the room. it's a softer song, with slower dancing at the ball. he smiles weakly, gazing away.