Only two hard footfalls resounded off the castle walls outside before the large doors of the dining room flew open with a frightening bang. Black vapor and a few bats vanished beside him as Mithias strode into the room, finally fully changing shape. Instantly, the elder vamipres saw that no weapons were drawn upon him, but his vibe was one of fresh fury. 

Mithias was one of the oldest vampires, and yet, he held the lowest ranking against his peers in the vampire family. He had only barely survived the punishment he had received centuries ago for crimes against his own kind. He would forever be a black sheep, denigrated for his past as a vampire who kills vampires. The ferocity and violence of his entrance begged the question, if only for a moment... would he kill again?

His aesthetic and lethal form looked twice the size it normally did at this distance as his golden eyes glared intently ahead above a tense jaw. It was the look of a killer, of violence and retribution. Mithias' skin was stark white, his long black hair hung freely behind him, disappearing against his cloak. Clawed fingers twitched ever so slightly, so near to the twin blades he kept at his sides. 

As his eyes came to rest on the three fledglings, he halted, his expression hardening into something cold and stern as he looked them over. It pained him to see this, to see three innocent faces, scared, hungry, and confused. Their souls were still mourning their own deaths within them. Inwardly, Mithias reigned his own dragon of rage. He could already feel Viorica's amusement rise as he flicked his gaze to Evelyn. 

Evelyn was innocent. Mithias could sense it. Although sitting atop hundreds of years herself, there were things yet that Mithias' daughter did not know. She was his only one, and he couldn't deny that he loved her like a child. A fragment of his own soul had been given in making her. It had been a turning done in love and with her consent, albeit immediate circumstances were dire. She did not know it, but any harm that came to her would wound him as well. 

This, more than anything, more even than the threat of torture and death at the hands of Dracula kept Mithias controlled. The elders knew it, content to see him invest himself into the fold by tying himself in the bonds of blood. 

"Who is responsible for this?" Mithias' bright yellow eyes slammed Viorica, who seemed to enjoy it. He needn't have asked however, as the culprit was clear. Standing perfectly still, his disapproval radiated threateningly. he clearly hadn't been informed of this turning. 

Mithias was just the type to speak his mind despite the consequences. His nearly fearless will was difficult to break. "Viorica. Do you never consider the consequences of your actions, or do you ever presume yourself above them?" He gestured to the virgin blooddrinkers. "This is an abuse! This is not how vampires should be made. Their chance of survival is tenuous enough, and furthermore you inspire the rest of humanity to hatred and... prejudice! And not even prejudice! ... You justify our destruction." Mithias fought hard to keep himself in check, for he and his were not invulnerable. He now had to consider what danger he may place Evelyn in by his actions. 

He pointed at Viorica accusingly. "You seek to build your own little clan, to be a matriarch, but you are a fool. You risk nothing less than war for us all."