Tut, tut. How do you get off calling those of us embued with magical
Blood pathetic? We were created in shadow, and there still we remain,
for we are the mighty predators of the night. We hunt those individuals
we find to be weaker than ourselves. This is what a predator does. Think
of the wolf: she slinks about in during the witching hour, using the
traits she has inherited to track down and kill those others she feels
she can, or needs to. She feeds upon the raw meat, savoring the
lifegiving blood. Predators hunt prey.

Though it pains me to admit you do speak some truth, my dear, in that
the Blood in recent decades has been shelled out as if it were some new
candy: Have a taste, kiddos, eat up! It disgusts me as much as I disgust
you.

We did hand over life in its fullest sense for something darker,
something that drew us to it with its power, and those of us who have
savored the Blood in its majesty knew full well the consequences of our
lust for this opportunity before we drank from those older and wiser in
the Blood so long ago, on our own fateful nights. You call us enslaved,
for we cannot look at the sun, or various other things. I dismiss this
accusation, as these things are trivial when compared to the unlife the
Blood has allowed us to well, live. Those of us who know our history,
and wanted this change upon ourselves, have risen to be quite
enlightened predators, as is the natural evolution from fledgling to
elder. Those who complain about their Gifts, obviously did not
contemplate the Change long enough, and truly were nothing more than
foolish mortals. I suffer no compunction. I am a predator.

Sincerely in Blood,
Raechan

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Variach, in the year 131 MA.