[ black leather, bright-bleached hair, cheekbones you could cut your hand on — and that familiar scent of nothingness that clings. the cigarette smoke just about conceals it, but karla's been around enough non-humans to have her doubts. ]

It doesn't look like a real pond, anyway. Man-made one, probably. A true mark of the rich, or if it were real, then it's been treated to death and back. Nothing in that water's probably survived.

[ her voice is softly accented, crisp around her vowels and careful with phrasing. ]

Leeches, though. I don't think lakes have leeches. Baby frogs on the other hand. I bet there are so many of them in there.