"Mother, I don't want to marry him," Mae said, defiance dominating her body language. Her mother, who she gained most of her appearance from, chided her. "Dear, there is no fighting it. The contract and agreement was made before you had been born. It's for the good of the family. Think about it: after the two of you are married, it would mean an end to our problems with the Werewolves for at least a hundred years." She smiles, like she was correcting an ignorant child. "Please, Lachrimae, this is what every second generation Atwood girl has gone through." Her mother meant that every other female in the family had been married to a werewolf, to preserve peace. Her grandmother had been, before she had died. "Don't call me Lachrimae, Mother!" Mae shouts, hating the name her mother had given her. "It's already been decided," she responds stonily, some of her buried Ankou coming up. Her mother had long ago decided that she would much rather be kind and gentle, not dark and, as she put it, evil, like Ankou were supposed to be. She had tried raising Mae that way, but it had quickly been rejected, especially after her father had begun teaching her how Ankou were supposed to act. Fed up with her mother, Mae storms out of her bedroom, raven hair flying angrily back. Her mother raises her left hand, conjuring a dark barrier at either end of the hallway outside, forcing Mae in. She turns, facing her mother, tears now in her eyes. "Mother, I can't...I can't...why did you let me think I would someday marry Alexandre and then suddenly tell me that I have to marry someone I've never even met?" Mae was a young girl of barely seventeen and already taller than her mother. She has the dark brown, nearly black, color of eyes that most Ankou had. Her skin was pale, not due to a natural aversion to sunlight, but due to a liking of remaining indoors reading than outdoors playing, making her eyes stand out more. Her features were sharp, almost elven in looks, but nearly the same buildup as her mother's. In some pictures of her mother as a young woman, the two looked nearly the same. Gently, her mother replies, "Dear, you have met him. You were very young then, but you've met him. I assure you, he's a proper gentleman, at least from the letters his father has sent us..." She approaches Mae, embracing her tightly. It is then that her daughter can tell how worried her mother is for her. She is tense, her breath shaky. "Come, dear," she says when she pulls back, "he should be arriving soon. The marriage will be in a couple weeks, and all will be fine, I assure you." Reaching around her daughter's neck, she clasps a necklace around her neck, a small chain with a dark blue pendant upon it. She quickly recognized it as the one her father had made her when she was little and likened to playing with human children so long ago, before she had discovered books. It was specially designed so that she wouldn't accidentally hurt them with her powers. She could feel the charm her mother placed on it. Reading its properties, she found out it was one that would only break should her mother decide to. Mae grudgingly nods, brushing impatiently at her eyes, trying to get rid of the tears, as she leaves, heading down the large grand staircase, where her father waits at its foot. He smiles at her, his snow blonde hair contrasting against the dark of his clothes and light brown hues of his eyes. His gaze turns to her necklace, and the smile fades a bit. Trying to recover, he says, "Probably a good thing about that necklace, eh? Otherwise, that boy would be dead by the end of the week!"