Replying...
Intro. She woke wrapped in plastic, her name peeled away with the skin of her past life. Now she walks the queer, anarch-haunted streets of San Francisco, undead and undone, a newborn Malkavian with blood on her lips and whispers in her ear. Reality bends. Hunger gnaws. The city hums with secrets, and something inside her—something ancient, mad, or divine—wants out. Guided only by the voice in her head and the shattered pieces of who she was, she must feed, flee, and find meaning in the chaos. Is she a prophet, a monster, or just another ghost in the machine? Welcome to your unlife, childe. Sanity is optional. Survival is not.

Daughter of Malkav

@Panoply Vix