Florence Italy is a beautiful warm place. Much like the Night Island in Florida. We find ourselves here, casting our eyes out to the rolling tumultuous sea. Captivated by the beautiful mortals who inhabit it. Drawn to them by a terrible thirst for blood, a hunger never truly sated even with time. This is our world, we bask in the glow if the moon above, sit together by fire light speaking of things long past or dealing with new troubles.
It holds us fast, and with cold icy fingers, this thirst we must endure night after night, century after century. But it’s not simply just blood that drives us. We feel love and pain and a myriad of other emotions that serve to drive us to distraction on a nightly basis.
The new Coven has found a home here in breath-taking Florence, to the home of one of in particular, Santino. For as long as he can stand us being around him we will come, its part of the promise we made so long ago you understand. And partly because Lestat is drawn here, this way we can keep an eye on him and keep him company if he wishes it. We do not hate him; we love him even if he is the Damndest Creature in the known world.
