Keziah is so very placid, so very calm in listening to his explanations. What a strange world. Though come to think of it, has his heart beat at all during this conversation? There are some who hew closer to death, for whom change is more difficult... but many of those lines have been wiped out by hunters.

If a vampire's strengths and weaknesses could not be altered by various means, if cross-breeding with the living wasn't possible... maybe all vampires would be wiped out by now.

She opens her mouth to explain about the blood, and then he speaks of his preferences.

And then he says elf.

Keziah's eyes seem almost to glow with the change from dark brown to orange, and she draws back, back, away from Erik. Horror and sorrow are obvious in her voice when she next speaks: "I am so sorry."

'Run, before the Gentry find out you're here,' her basest instincts scream. 'Attack, subdue, don't let him tell them about you. Maybe it's early enough that he's not addicted,' comes the contradictory thought. Keziah shakes her head, backs further away. No. Such vampires are a lost cause. Experience has taught her that.

"I suppose the Gentry think themselves kind, letting you keep your title. Or maybe clever, that it would have us dropping our guard when we meet you." Keziah's orange eyes dart around, taking in the assembled guests, then back to Erik, then scanning again. Two sets of fangs, upper and lower canines extended and sharp, flash white as she speaks -- human guise crumbling, and attack expected. "No doubt you would offer a half-human as oh-so-helpful and willing to be fed from. You will not break me as they broke my sire."