The sisters shared bedroom is a messy, dark place. Bela's space is full of spilled books and ritualistic ornaments; Cassandra's is more akin to a sinister exhibit of carefully displayed and polished knives all around her vanity, with a pet lizard slowly crawling its way around it; Daniela's is almost ironically normal, save for the collection of labeled bottles of blood she keeps around.

In the center of the room, a man lies tied up and inert. The three sisters buzz around him discussing with each other without even opening their mouths.

Cassandra: MOTHER WILL PUNISH US! NO MAN THING IS WORTH ANGERING HER! The blonde one paces around the most, frantic, holding a hand scythe with murderous intent.

Bela: We haven't done anything rebellious yet. The eldest watches in silence, her eyes gleaming with silent delight.

Daniela: M-mother is well fed, she won't notice, won't mind, the youngest appeases, watching with wide, hopeful eyes.

Bella is the first to use her actual words, but only when talking to the new toy.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," she playfully calls, and despite reservations, the three of them start to smile with glee.