Clan: Malkavian
Sect: Camarilla
Coterie: Danse Macabre
Player: Ebba | Percy (Kali)
Hornless Unicorn · 2025-11-03
Full name: Ebba
Nicknames: The Witch of Glass
Sect: Camarilla
Clan: Malkavian
Generation: 12th
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Ehh.. not even she knows
Apparent Age: 26 years old
Nationality: Swedish
Hair: Redhead
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5'5
Weight: rude?
Notable Merits: Beautiful
Notable Flaws: none noticeable
Hornless Unicorn · 2025-11-03
Description
Some people break quietly. Ebba shattered beautifully.
Born in Stockholm under a haze of incense and superstition, she was raised by a mother who called herself a witch and claimed to hear spirits in the walls. Ebba believed her or perhaps she had no choice. The world had always whispered to her too. Objects hummed, mirrors sighed, and every trinket felt alive. She learned to anchor herself with these power objects... a bone charm, a lock of hair, a chipped crystal ball, convinced that without them, her mind would scatter like ashes in the wind.
Her obsession grew into identity. Wicca, voodoo, folk magic.. she dabbled in it all. What began as faith became fixation. She wasn’t playing at witchcraft; she was trying to control the chaos inside her head.
Then came Michael Myers.
No warning. No words. Just a masked shape in her ritual circle, standing silent as her candles flickered out. When she woke, she was cold, hungry, and forever changed. Her Sire offered no guidance, only vanishing, as if she were a mistake he meant to erase.
Hornless Unicorn · 2025-11-03
Alone, starving, and confused, Ebba wandered until she found refuge with the Camarilla. They offered structure. Safety. Power. The three things she could never hold onto in life. But Ebba’s trust was an illusion, a mask she learned from the best. Deep down, she despised the Camarilla’s hierarchy, its polished lies, its pretense of order. And so she decided to learn their game well enough to play puppet master. Her dream: become Seneschal, the power behind the Prince, the unseen hand tugging the strings.
Her “medium,” Black Dhalia, remains her one confidant, a mortal who channels the dead and brings Ebba messages from beyond. Whether the whispers are real spirits or the Malkavian madness echoing back doesn’t matter. The answers feel true, and that’s enough. Through these séances, Ebba learned of the Hecata.. necromancers who command the dead as if they were servants. She admires them, envies them, and secretly fears them. For all her ghost-talk, Ebba can barely face the true silence of death.
Her prized possession, hidden even from Black Dhalia is a cracked music box. It plays a lullaby that shifts slightly every time she winds it. Sometimes it hums a new tune. Sometimes it whispers her name. Once, it said “run.”
But survival in Kindred politics isn’t about running... it’s about aligning. And Ebba did just that when she crossed paths with Fiorenza Savona, the Ventrue power broker whose word in Camarilla circles weighs more than most elders’ fangs. Ebba, ever the opportunist, offered something Fiorenza wanted, perhaps information gleaned from her “spirits,” or a secret the dead had no right to share. Whatever it was, it earned her a rare gift: Fiorenza’s approval.
The Ventrue matron found her eccentric, amusing and useful. With a faint smirk, Fiorenza gave her blessing, and, more importantly, her personal phone number. In Kindred politics, that number is worth more than blood.
Hornless Unicorn · 2025-11-03
Now, Ebba moves through Elysium like scented smoke.. polite, peculiar, and utterly underestimated. Her witchcraft is a mask, her laughter a lure, her madness a blade. Behind it all, she’s weaving her grand spell: one that will bind the Camarilla itself to her will.
And one night soon, when the Prince finally trusts her enough to listen…
Ebba will whisper, and the whole court will dance.
Hornless Unicorn · 2026-01-15
Whisper #1: Politics Diff 6
They whisper that before Nashville, Ebba tried to stage a coup in Sweden. Not with Kindred. With humans. She filled their heads with purpose and protection, let them believe they mattered. When it collapsed, every one of them died. Quietly. Cleanly. Like they’d never existed. Some say she escaped because she broke when it happened. Others say she escaped because she didn’t. Either way, she remembers their names.