In the rolling foothills of Virginia, an estate stands which has stood since the settlers' arrival in the new world. Generations of its inhabitants have witnessed the rising and falling of the South, its precarious dignity, its grit-and-fineries pride. Now the grand house, with its labyrinthine hallways and parlors draped in damask and silk, sits abandoned and overgrown among the knotty alders and wild mint. It apears that no life stirs within its walls. One half of the estate, a red-brick luxury home, is crumbling and water-damaged, the windows blackened. The other half, a massive glass greenhouse, is so monstrously overgrown that it is almost impossible to see inside.

There is rumor, however, that a woman still dwells within those glass walls, isolated, tending the orchids.

Wilhelmina Louise Cotton is doomed to live forever in a world that she does not understand. Her father was an alchemist, her mother a horticulturist, frail and tubercular. Willa was subject throughout her life to her father's experiments, the last of which turned her into something that can only be described as a demon. She cannot die, and she must feed on warm blood. She lives alone in the greenhouse of her family's dilapidated home, a fine Southern lady with dirt under her fingernails, drinking the blood of burrowing creatures and songbirds, performing her own experiments on the plants and fungi that have grown up like a jungle around her. She has not been outside in a very long time. The world has been changing around her. She knows this, and is afraid to face it. Machines now walk the earth, powered by steam. Inventors have made men out of copper and steel, with eyes like gas flames. She is not ready for this, or so she believes.

Wilhelmina's world is turned on end, her glass palace shattered, when another vampire, resourceful, quick, discovers her fortress entombed in creeping vines, and tells her that the creations of mankind are endangering the earth and, more importantly, the South. Forests are being laid waste to make way for factories. The Everglades are dying. Her greenhouse is one of the last remaining oases of growth and life. She is one of the last remaining botanists not devoted to the creation of cosmetic products and poisons.

She will have to come outside.

The character of the second vampire can be male or female, with or without non-platonic interests either way, and other characters may be introduced. It is anticipated that a small group will form. Southern Gentlemen and Gentlewomen are most welcome. Others run the risk of being scolded, but are welcome as well.