And that's my little sister Seraphina," Nyxavere continued, pointing to another girl who appeared roughly the same age, contentedly sipping from what looked like a designer thermos but smelled disturbingly like fresh blood. "She's Daddy's second daughter. We're, like, a whole thing now."
Seraphina waved without looking up from her drink, revealing Draven vampiric fingernails that shifted color in response to her emotions—currently a satisfied crimson.
Cassidy sat heavily on the nearest seat, her mind reeling despite her new immortal capacity for processing information. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, but no sound emerged. She looked like a particularly stylish goldfish experiencing an existential crisis.
Atalanta, watching from her corner seat, smiled sympathetically. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too," she commiserated. "It's a lot."
