Violetta's story

When she’d first started coming to the club with her aunt it had been all a great novelty. Now that Violetta had been attending regularly for the past few months that novelty was quickly wearing off. The gossip being shared around the table by her chaperones failed to capture her attention as did the dancing on the stage. A movement off stage however, did capture it. Violetta began wondering what it was like backstage. She’d never been in that part of the club before. It didn’t take long for her curious nature to get the better of her. Slipping away from the table she managed to sneak back there unnoticed, or at least no one stopped her if they did notice. What had seemed like an interesting idea began to feel a bit silly after yet another dressing room filled with people with too much makeup and too little clothing getting ready to go onstage or having just come off it. Still she’d gone to all the trouble of sneaking back here so she continued determined to find something of interest. It was a disappointment to find the last door she saw locked. Perturbed that her grand adventure had turned into such a stunning failure she turned around to make her way back to her table only to run into someone. “Oi! Don’t you watch where you are going?” Violetta demanded with the air of someone who was exactly where they were supposed to be instead of the opposite.

“Bonjour, monsieur. It is a lovely evening, is it not?”

Vi: Apology accepted, Damon. It's a pleasure to make you acquaintance.

Vi has only attended one funeral in her life, that of her baby brother. His funeral was a small one, just immediate family and her grandparents from both sides. It was the only time she’s ever seen her father drunk. She had a lot of mixed emotions about it. On one hand she hadn’t liked her brother, finding the baby odd looking. It also annoyed the young girl how much attention he stole from her. Especially given he was so very ugly and boring. But it was sad to see her parents looking so broken. She’d never seen either of them show much emotion before. Both were rather detached. Though after the boy had been born her father had been overjoyed at having a son finally. Her mother sobbing quietly into her handkerchief while her father openly cried during the funeral. He’d clearly been attached to his son and it was easy to tell that he’d already had high hopes for the boy. Watching him at the funeral it was clear to see he was crushed, all his plans for an heir to follow in his footsteps died with this child.