Greetings Aetolians,

The Embrace

The little ones may swarm to you,
And ask you of a race.
The ones that are immortal yet dead,
The ones that have sought the Embrace.

You can lift them on your lap,
Touch their rosy little noses.
But when you tell them of the Consanguine,
Stop and smell the roses.

Their eyes are icy as the Tundra,
Their hearts have ceased to beat.
Their lives are consumed with thirst,
They hate the sun's heat.

The women have barren wombs,
They cry bloody tears.
The Consanguine are above all,
Jealousy and fears.

Ugliness is torn away,
Their bodies are perfect.
Except no blood burns their veins,
And they breathe to no effect.

The Consanguine,
Most beautiful of all,
Most powerful by far.

The Consanguine,
Unbeating hearts,
And icy dark eyes.

Spare the innocent of nothing,
Corrupt the pure.
Suckle the last bit of life from their neck,
Give them the eternal cure.

Yours in Blood,
Duchess Engetsu Bahir'an

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Arios, in the year 96 MA.