“No man knows till he has suffered from the night

how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.

                                        ― Jonathan Harker






Below, you will find an extensive collection of lore considered canon to my roleplay story and world. It is influenced by, inspired by, and taken from various works of fiction as well as real life, including history and current events etc. It is continuously being worked on, updated and refined, containing a compendium of the World of Vampires as a whole and even beyond, including: Characters, History, Politics, Culture, Wars -- and more.

The corruption of the Night awaits, and you are more than welcome to partake in it... or become part of it.






The BridesVirgiliu DraculaMircea Dracula│Erzsébet BáthoryBruno Ikarov││Petar Blagojević│Lady Eleanor│Kakistos

Robin HarkerJayden ThornleyCountess DolingenMaria GoodwinRobert HensworthKarl LuegerMaxLord Ezekiel

Agmundr│Camilla Romanescu│Marie Anette Carlisle│Nicholas Carlisle│Javier CruezaPavel Marlow Andrei Ambrožič

Mama Elaganza││Deiderich Kraus│Nathaniel Renwick│Jelena Santiago│Bahir Pasha│Caelan│Barnabáš│The Father│

Érebos│Frank the vagabond│Balthazar│Katarina Dufwa││





Abraham Van HelsingJonathan HarkerMina HarkerLucy WestenraQuincey P. MorrisArthur HolmwoodDr John Seward

R.M. RenfieldSteiner LeichtenbergRalph the taxi driverGiovanni AgostiAndersonRebecca HarrisMaddox

Romenduz Tavala│DoomsayerValeri Dojstov│Abraham SullivanDavid SullivanBlair O'Connor│Mother Anna│

Heliga Birgitta│





  The Dread DoctorsZoltanThe Wendigo of Castle DraculaLa bête du GévaudanOliver HarkerSynovaTimothy Holmes

Anna Darvolya││





 Castle DraculaThe Carpathian MountainsThe VillageCarfax AbbeySeward's Sanitarium││

The Tavala VillageThe City of Enoch││Tomb of Thanatos

Abandoned Building│ │Virgil's mansion │Robin's house│Dracula's Mansions
المدينة الغارقة (almadinat alghariqa, or The Sunken City






The TraditionsThe Vampire HierarchyThe MasqueradeDomainsHunting GroundsCommunication amongst the Undead

Pax InmortuaeThe War of AgesLexicon of the DeadThe Modern NightThe AncientsThe Generation Theory

The EmbraceThe Beast WithinFinal DeathBlood Bond BlightsThrallVampire Hunters

Humans loyal to DraculaThe Demeter The IchorFoul Rituals and Dark BeginningsRomanian TreasureAntediluvian






The Societas ImmortaliumThe Sabbat│The Anarch Movement│Malakut│

Children of CaineThe Eye │││The Order

The Night Children│





Humanity and the Supernatural││Vampire HuntersFaithTrue Faith│The Second Inquisition 





 The Department of Paranormal ActivitiesThe Holy Order of Saint Michael 'The Inquisition'The Van Helsing Association

The Arthur InitiativeThe Coalition against DraculaThe Holmwood FamilyThe Harker Family

The Company of ThreeThe Church of Father's Glory The Hunter SocietyThe Order of the Dragon









The Vampires of the East 'Jiangshi'





Concordia Immortalium│Failed London Takeover│The Blood Feud

Dracula's absence │The hunt for the Heartstone 





The sword of Dracul│Dragon key│The Dracul family ringDe Dödas Huvudbonad (Crown of the Dead)

Quincey's kukri knifeStaff of RaHeart StoneMysterious boxSeal of DraculBram Stoker's Dracula novel 

Love letter to TimothyRobin's gunMalum Praesidium






















                                          "This -thing- is rather peculiar. I don't know what else to say? It's like a childhood fever dream become reality. 

Who knows what trouble this fox and I will get up to? And with my track record, and this being a literal bloody shadow, well I'm expecting this particular adventure to involve either murder, dark relics, or a trip to an unholy site for evil rituals. But I'm still holding on to hope for this being that one demon or evil creature who just so wishes to stay in and consume ludicrous amounts of chocolate, and watch television.

Who knows?"



“It is not often an opportunity such as this is presented, as when it appears literally on the front side of your homestead.
A boy, an instrument, a broken cello that I shall, I think, put together in due time.
Then, David, you I shall play until you dance to my tune entirely.
You will twist, you will turn, and you will sing my melody now henceforth.”

- Dracula








"Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer--both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams. Yes, her internal turmoil, a war of the mind, it is what makes her one of the more dangerous adversaries I have faced thus far. Unpredictable, unrelenting, and completely merciless.

I must take care, lest she foils my plans.”



"There may yet be things, many of the mind, things that he cannot grasp, such as the nature and virtue of patience and the bountiful reward that can come from restraint. After all, ambition is only ever as useful as the person wielding it.

The fall of many of our kind stems from this fatal flaw, yet I did not at all think that it would be the Achilles heel of my own son.

I thought I had done better, that I would not see the past be repeated...

In what hurry are they, they who have centuries ahead of them?"

- Dracula





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  • Spilling was perhaps the right word. 

    For a moment, the mortal has given up the struggle, tousled brown hair lightly brushing against the mound of wheel-turned snow. Perhaps he truly looked that lifeless, even more lifeless than the undead before him to elicit such concern. “S-sorry,” he whimpered. “I’m just getting some air…” Even trying to push himself back up into the car was quite a pain so crude, but David somehow got there, slumped and half-melted into the crowded seat.

    The first week of waking up has been quite humbling. His face sank against his palms as he rubbed this once more with a low groan.

    For someone who was welcomed by an acclaimed vampire lord, all he has perfected for the last few days was embarrassing himself. Such was the anthem of crippling shame, with a critical mind that constantly, compulsively replayed all mortifying events in question. “I'm alright, Mr Thornley, please, I just– I just need a moment–” A yelp already cut that off the moment he felt something move. David, for the lack of a better term, seemed utterly spooked. At this point, the only thing that kept him from jumping out was the fledgling at the door, and his eyes hastily fell upon the bag that he had just accidentally brushed.

    “There’s a cat,” he announced, his voice a pitch higher than the last. “What- why?”

    Perhaps, the more appropriate question was how. With a breath held back, David slowly lifted the bag. From the bundle of soft fluffy whites were a pair of twinkling blue eyes that stared back at him. A soft little face of pristine blanched fur and prim whiskers, long slivers of shed hair already clinging upon his trousers. 

    Oh my God, there is a cat,” he squawked– louder now as if that took a moment to properly register in reality. It was a shift of a questioning look, of panic and shock, hurried glances thrown between the feline and the only vampire in the scene who could answer such. “I didn't sit on the poor thing, did I? No, no, the madam wasn't flat.”

    From the comedic panic sprung concern, and from concern came relief. There were neither injuries nor signs of aggression. In fact, the feline seemed quite content and bundled. He gradually offered a hand for the cat to sniff. If this wasn't met with hostility, he would cautiously, gently slip a finger to scratch underneath the chin.

    Despite the shabby condition, it wouldn't take much to brighten him up, it seems. Never mind if it was with an unnatural distraction of having a cat inside a congested backseat.

    "My apologies, Mr Thornley," David finally started. "The night hasn't been very forgiving, and I've been out of sorts all morning.” 

    “Is there anything I can help you with?”

    From the looks of it, he was the one that needed help.

  • From the safety of her secure room, Agnes read the letter carefully. What came next was frustration, a rather dramatic invitation in such a public place. She just hoped when she left the room she wouldn't see a crowd either in or outside the building.  With a sigh,  Agnes rolled up the parchment, and exited the room. Fortunately enough, there wasn't much of a crowd, but quiet murmuring of the regulars, seeing the mysterious man knock on the glass.  Before she left, Agnes approached one of the bartenders who was staring daggers at the mysterious man.

    "If I'm still gone in a week, something's wrong." Agnes whispered over to him, his sharp gaze turned to Agnes incredulously as she strolled toward the door. His lips parted to speak in protest, but the demoness had already made up her mind.

    Agnes gazed coldly at the messenger as she joined them outside. "I wish to speak."

  • The younger, non-immortal man listened closely to everything he had to say. It all sounded pretty straightforward: Gear up, travel a few states away, find their target, and eliminate the very person that nearly killed them both, almost sounded a little too good to be true. Something in his gut feeling told him this was NOT a great idea, especially since his /group/ already had one bad experience with a vampire. Maybe this won’t happen again, because in Abraham’s mind, saving him should give this bloodsucker enough incentive not to do him dirty.

    ‘I need to stop being so paranoid.’ He thought, thinking his decision over for a hot minute or two, placing a hand under his own chin in utter silence.

    With a long, audible exhale, both liquid mercury hues turned up to lock eyes with Robin again. “Fuck it, I’ll go. Not the greatest paycheck in the world, but as long as that crazy woman is alive, Gleeon’s group might be at risk because of what I did. Give me a little time to pack up some weapons and gear. Sound good?” The veteran asked. If his new associate agreed, he’d turn and head inside the house.

    “Be back in a moment!”

    With both shoulders briefly raised and lowered in a shrug, Gleeon wasn’t far behind, soon entering and closing the door behind him.

    . . .

    “I don’t approve this idea, why on Earth does he want you to keep this a secret from me?” Within the confines of his bedroom on the second story, the group Founder had just heard everything his friend was told, and the secrecy involved. He was beyond suspicious, and rightfully so. But at least Robin was well out of earshot for the two, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

    “I don’t know, but if this man is another questionable character, maybe his plan is to use me as a human shield. I just think telling somebody would be the smart thing to do in case I go missing and nobody hears a thing from me.” The brunette male explained, unable to piece together what motives their new contact had.


    “Just keep the tracker app on your phone. I’ve got one other thing that might help you if you get into a really bad situation.” Reaching behind him, a little handheld cube made from tiny, dark brown bricks with a house-like window on each side was handed to him, before Abe stuffed it into his suitcase. “Why the Nautilus Cube?” He questioned. “You can use it for a quick escape if you have to run. Not the most ideal place for a retreat, but nobody will be able to follow you and or Robin inside. Just know Hanna and Xeryssa are not going to like your idea if they hear about this.”

    Zipping up his suitcase after stuffing it with some handheld explosives, Abraham grabbed his old Lewis machine gun that he kept with him from the first global war, strapping it to his shoulder. “If I don’t come back, you know where to find me. I’ve survived far worse than vampires.” He said.

    “For Hanna’s, Xeryssa’s, and your mom’s sake, be careful.” The Warlock advised, shortly before his friend headed downstairs with his luggage and primary weapon.

    . . .

    Soon arriving back outside in the driveway, the young veteran approached Ralph’s vehicle carrying his belongings, including the hefty machine gun that would need to be stowed in the trunk to avoid suspicion until their destination was reached. If the back could be opened, he’d promptly place both items inside and swiftly close it.

    The right-side passenger door was opened, with Abe having just changed into a fresh set of clothes, which consisted of a navy blue short and dark jeans. Buckling his own seatbelt, he let out a huff, plopping back right next to Robin. Still, he couldn’t believe that he just went behind the vampire’s back and secretly informed his friend about what was happening.

    “Alright boys, let’s go get some payback. I told Gleeon that you blokes were taking me on a field trip as a reward for saving you. I wanna try making this a quick operation if we can.”

  • The freedom to choose in that castle is merely an illusion, is it not? Why is it that he was the one who felt the stab as Jayden blurted those words out? As the silence became deafening, the suggestion of sleep already felt like a command. Lids already felt heavy with the weight of the order, even before he could muster something. “You could have left me behind, you had every chance to kill me along the way and no one will ever know. But you didn’t.” David leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cushion before him. He felt so close, so close and yet so far– and all the smitten parts of him still ached. "You still chose to do good with those hands, no matter how cold, and with that heart, your mistakes still trouble you so. That's human enough."

    Keeping his eyes open was already a struggle, and he was not going to win this fight. “If it’s all about drama, the great lot of you aren’t too far detached from mortals then.” As he eased back, that aching head of his found the support of the window, now lulled by the engine's subtle tremors.

    “Mr. Crueza aside, I do look forward to meeting them all."

    . . .


    David remained silent as he slept save for a few whimpers and shifts, which quieted down as fast as they came. In a state of near-dreamless sleep, the mortal was left undisturbed through the wee hours of dawn. Nothing could have ever awakened him anyway in that regard– not a bump in the road that lurches the vehicle along the way, not the springing contents from a stray suitcase strewn upon his lap, or perhaps, not even a direct summon from Lord Dracula himself.

    It was the sun that did after those hours when it finally found him, warm rays of it upon his face through the tinted windows that hardly stood a chance. Disoriented and in agony, he was now awake… but at what cost?

    He survived the night. Not unscathed, of course, as he could still feel the burn of the wound upon his chest, a tingling, itching sensation begging to be inspected. David knew he would have expected worse. Ignorance could have been bliss, but medicine has opened his eyes to these so long ago. From frostbites and hypothermia to internal haemorrhage, infection from a laceration, or even a ghastly row of gastric diseases and parasites from the water alone, the list goes on and on, enough to make this poor sorcerer shudder. Other than a headache, the chills and nausea that came and crashed in waves, however, everything seemed properly accounted for. His throat felt like it was choked up with sand, his empty stomach in knots threatening to belt out a ferocious roar.

    He lived to see another day, but when was the last time he felt like this? Did he, at some point, almost drink himself to death? It felt like his skull was splitting into halves, his clawing innards wanting to heave nothing out. Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, he took a moment to bury his face in his hands, pale fingers digging into the soft tangles of his damp hair.

    It’s a good thing Mr Harker was there…

    The thought alone filled him with this strange blooming warmth, one that rivalled the wintry sun that was already beating down on him. At the same time, he couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of guilt. That little underground expedition was an utter disaster, did he ever thank him for enduring all that? What was it that Robin did just to save him from the brink of death – what was it that he babbled in return when he was enrapt in those arms?

    “If a glimpse of God can transform sane men into zealots, you could perhaps call me one.”


    “I cannot give you the world– but I can offer you myself, every drop of my blood, the entirety of my heart– I can offer you my soul.”

    Oh NO. 

    "You know I would do anything for you but that…" 

    Each sensation, each memory, down to the fleeting traces of restless fingertips – nothing could ever prepare him as it all came rushing back and David jolted upright, sending out a blanketing flurry of things and trash. As if rendered by an invisible hand, his seatbelt popped open, with the door violently swinging. Almost falling in a scrambling mortified panic, he could have met another injury from the waiting concrete if not for the tangle of clothes and bags upon his legs that almost made it impossible to fling himself out. Dangling at the edge of the seat, it was apparent that they had already stopped somewhere– the sight of asphalt, stone and reflecting glass almost dazed him so, he just had to pause struggling to take a breath.

    The cold remained, but the snowy woodlands were nowhere to be found.

  • Brian couldn't sleep.

    That wasn't anything new, of course. He was always restless the night before the full moon. How could he possibly sleep well knowing that just 24 hours later, he was going to experience yet another horrific and painful transformation against his will? It was so inevitable. No cure. No escape. This was his fate, his burden. The curse he had carried since he was 18, and would continue to carry for the rest of his life.

    Eventually, after a few hours of tossing and turning, Brian gave up. Perhaps a walk in the woods would clear his mind and help him wind down. Climbing out of bed, he slipped on some jeans, a jacket, and some running shoes before heading out the door. His house was fairly isolated, and marked the end of a dead-end road in the woods, branching off the side of a highway. If one followed his driveway, it would eventually lead them back to the freeway and into town. But this home was in Brian's element. He liked it out here. He liked being one with nature, as most animals do.

    12211939253?profile=RESIZE_584xAt this time of night, Brian hardly expected to run into another soul. Oftentimes, he was alone out here, except for the occasional hiker. But anyone who was hiking at this time would have been incredibly foolish. There were dangerous animals out here, coyotes, bears...and things worse still.

    As he made his way around the lake trail, he did anticipate running into anyone. So naturally, he was quite surprised to see Blair on the trail, just a few yards ahead of him, his silhouette slowly becoming clearer through the misty darkness.

    As he got closer, he could see that the man had a rifle slung over his shoulder. A Hunter. No reason to be alarmed. There were a lot of hunters in these parts; maybe this man thought he had a better chance of finding good prey if he hunted at night. 

    "Evenin'..." Brian said with a small, polite nod as he passed Blair on the path. Even with just one word, his distinct, Northern-Irish accent was quite noticable. Brian was a shy soul, so he wasn't typically one to make small talk with strangers. Therefore, he was content to keep walking and leave the man to his hunting. Although as he passed him, his Lycan nose had detected a few strange scents that seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite place.

    It was the woody smell of the stake in his jacket pocket that had caught Brian's interest, enough that he stopped walking for a moment. Where had he smelled that before? It was driving him crazy. Perhaps he would figure it out soon enough.

  • The demoness was still soaked from the event that just occurred. It was raining cats and dogs out there, and just for a few minutes outside she was soaked. If anything, it gave her some personal room from the regulars as she sat on a stool at the bar, a bartender immediately placing an Old Fashioned in front of her. Then, she noticed the atmosphere of discussion hush in a wave throughout the bar, led by confusion. This sort of reaction caught Agnes' attention, having paused mid-sip, only to turn around to view this hooded figure. The hooded figure was met with annoyance from the demoness, metallic blue hues nearly glaring at this newcomer. 

    "Couldn't have waited after closing, could ya? Wanted to scare my customers, didn't ya?" Agnes grumbled under her breath as he approached. When the scroll of a letter was presented, she noticed her name. One hell of a dramatic entrance, this had to be some vampire shit, she thought to herself, thinking about a specific, very flamboyant elder vampire. 

    Agnes took the letter from his grasp. "Out." She ordered, making the hooded figure stood outside. Agnes got up from her seat and into the kitchen of the bar, only to open another door into a private room. Situated inside she unraveled the scroll to read its letter.

  • The mortal dared not to touch, frozen and partly terrified at the mere idea of caressing something so ethereal – for such was the nature of man, all it ever did was corrupt whatever that was beneath their hands. With those dainty fingers upon his trousers, a shaky gasp left him the moment he felt the insistent pull. Perhaps that was the only thing that kept him from collapsing on his knees, from all assault of carnal bliss. Gazing deep into the eyes of a predator, there was nothing left to do but surrender. At that moment, he knew he was completely done for– only for him to receive a folded note even before he could properly respond. The kiss seemed like a perfect sealing finale for all the night’s torment.

    David was left dazed and utterly mystified, one hand absentmindedly drifting to his cheek. Peculiar creatures, all of them: vicious and murderous one moment and endearing the next. Perhaps he dealt with such humans at some point, but that didn’t make the exchange any less confusing– their voices echoing in him like those parting words were the only thing that was left to hold on to. Never in his life did he ever like riddles, and yet he still mumbled his thanks, a gracious habit even though his exit was perhaps, less than graceful.


    It was only when he managed to stumble outside that he realized he could actually breathe. Lungfuls of cold, glacial air poured through him, instantaneously dousing the wretched heat coursing through his veins. It wasn't the most pleasant, the stifled thirst in two wanton parts still clawing at him relentlessly. It was pathetic. But he knew he would live, he would be alright– and that relief was short-lived the moment he saw Robin.

    He was seated and strapped in that car, and now surrounded by the mayhem of bouncing luggage and an assortment of things, David Sullivan looked quite miserable. Coupled with a master's apathy and the sudden thought of leaving, in that perplexing silence, perhaps it was only the roaring engine that kept a shattering heart from being heard. And so he focused his sight on the castle that they left, boring the rusted gates into a hazy memory. That place was almost the death of him several times, yet there was the profound loneliness that came forth, a floodgate of emotions so unstable that he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight even after it vanished. 

    His chambers became quite the messy sanctuary in a very short while, never mind if he has to ward that place a few times to keep strange things at bay. The dreams remained, as vivid and as violent. There was a library that he happily promised to tidy, a hodgepodge of books that will remain untouched. A quiet pantry and kitchen filled to the brim with an assortment of food, always waiting and prepared for a hungry, scurrying guest. He wasn’t even able to thank the one behind those delectable tea sandwiches that were gone in a few mouthfuls.

    These were the signs of home.


    … And you're leaving, again. 

    "Mr Thornley," he finally managed. His words were slow, quietly rasped, and almost inaudible. "I wasn't able to properly assist you, and for that, I truly apologize. I–" What was he really intending to say? I coveted your sire in the most depraved fashion and three women took his place? Absolutely not. His mouth felt incredibly dry at the thought, and perhaps that was for the very best. "...I hope you've been in better health since then. Please, take liberty in letting me know if there’s anything I can help you with."

    The concern seemed futile, these vampires will heal faster than he could ever dream of doing, than he could ever dream of studying and putting into words. David was too tired, too morose, and too famished to even figure out the why. That could be by daylight’s problem, he figured. With all other things pressing upon him, from cases of baggage to random articles of clothing and trash bouncing about, the young man figured that his pockets could be a good enough distraction, for now. There were the pens that he have hoarded, his heart sank a little further at the thought of these things becoming unusable. The crinkled edges of the note given to him – one that he didn’t dare take out just yet until he was clearheaded enough to read. Something heavy– something cold, he carefully pulled out the revolver that kept on pressing on his lap. The old metal still glinted beneath faded light, and shaking it a little, he hoped the poor thing wasn’t so waterlogged.

    Further inspection showed him a couple of letters engraved deeply on the steel. It wasn’t the right time to ask.

    “Do take this from me, Mr Harker, please.” And so the weapon was promptly returned, despite all difficulty of pushing a mound of strewn things aside. “And don’t you lend it to me with the intention of shooting you ever again.” His voice, while gently muted, seemed quite distressed. 

    There was no response needed from that. Not that he could imagine any. 

  • The Heir to the Throne of Darkness


    The young, albeit relatively, vampire was not used to an environment such as this. True, the darkness offered a sense of calm, a sense of home. But the textures, the jagged walls, the irregular ground. It was all quite new. Different from the carefully carved stone slabs and wooden boards that made up his home. He’d rarely gone far from the castle, though this, you could say, wasn’t all that far away either - and yet, it felt much farther than anything before. Having just barely slipped away from that frightful creature, the Wendigo that is, not their father although he too could be defined as such- the thought of it created some strange feeling inside him. Having betrayed that which he strived to become himself, having faced what could well be a disappointment yet, having had to run from a fight. It made him feel… vulnerable. He wasn’t ready for this. This had all been a mistake. As he went along, doubt arose within him, like a dam with a broken valve.


    But as his brother spoke, the words gave him some sense of comfort. Yes. This had been a mistake. He wasn’t ready for this. But it was done. Regret would not help him now. Doubt would not fix it. Now was the time to recognise the mistakes made, learn from them, and adapt to them. But that was, of course, easier said than done. Then, his brother stood up again, Virgil carefully raising his head to seem more confident than he was. Perhaps the aura of authority that reeked from what once was, and perhaps could still be, his half-brother made Virgil feel safer. An aura that felt very familiar. 

    “You may be right. And yet even one formed over a century can fracture.” He took a deep breath, followed by a sigh. “About before. I apologise if my demeanour seemed disrespectful. In truth, I was expecting something more… alive, I suppose. Seeing one of our line in such a state as yours… It was, well, frightening. But it is true that appearances can be deceiving. You carry yourself well enough. I see now that my fear may have been unfounded.”

  • And thus the GAME continued, a flow of movements as the pair of night-borne creatures danced across the rooftops in a strange yet playful battle of wits and balance alike. This 'game' was surely enjoyed more by one than the other. Synova knew not where they were going- he simply followed, genuinely uncaring of their destination, only curious of what would happen after.

    The arrival at their destination seemed abrupt, and the shift in Robin's demeanor drew Synova's attention to tattered door. His attention piqued towards the stranger with perked ears and a lifted head, and eyes would widen a fraction of a degree as Robin's tonalities shifted to match the unpleasantries spoken by the newcomer that awaited them.

    The vampire's discomfort towards this man was a different variant of discomfort displayed when the fox found him. Ah, so we don't like this person. Dually noted. 

    To be addressed as 'That' and 'It' earned quiet scoff.

    "How riveting it is to be addressed as an object~" Cool tones carried a snide edge, and the beast's anatomy silently transformed before the remark came to completion. The shift began at his nose and bloomed rapidly down to the very tip of his tail---; the thick smog that constructed his being latched onto itself and formed a physical body. The fox's coat now held closer semblance to the interior of an inkwell in color, and appeared lush and tangible in contrast to smoke from a doused flame.

    A singular blink amidst that shift brought new color to his lantern eyes; bright gold variegated with orange, sliced by a vertical pupil that dilated a slight degree as his gaze rose up towards Robin. Molten eyes fell back onto Javier, and it was there they remained.

  • Closer.

    David could feel his hands instinctively drifting. His hand upon his, slender digits slipping on the gaps. How perfectly they fit, as if his warmth alone could stifle the cold away and veil any trace of malice or impending death. The other didn’t seem to be intent on staying free for long, with restless fingers already meandering on the torn remnants of the vampire’s clothing. Frigid was the bare skin that lies beneath… as if that ever mattered to someone who equally craved, who hungered for the indulgence of the flesh. At that ephemeral moment, he was his and his alone– a prey so willing and all for the taking, much so that the sorcerer could feel his touch snaking upon Robin’s waist, an attempt to pull him close.

    Could he even feel his heart, a drumming, frantic thing deep in his chest that he could barely even breathe? Whether it was his lips or his ravenous fangs that will deliver his fate for that night, he could care less. As long as it was him, only him, that judgment, David knew, he will accept. None of that came to such conclusions, however. Instead, he could feel Robin instantly pulling away, with a look of agonizing shock and horror plastered upon his face. He couldn’t even hear the words mumbled out, no, it was the slamming doors that woke him up from his stupor. It was a cruel punctuation to such livid fantasies, but it did the job regardless.

    Would it be any different if he offered himself entirely-- like he hasn't done so? 

    Will he stay, if only he held him close? Will Robin listen, if only he begged? 

    Such were the questions that ran through him without any hope for answers. These were the flinted queries that lingered in his throat, without any hope of being uttered. Being chest-deep in misery wasn’t his fate for the night, it seems, when he heard the faint tittering of voices, prompting him to slowly pull himself up to his feet to investigate. 

    The sight of the brides was the last thing that he expected that night after their violent and less-than-graceful exit, and yet here they were. Like subjects in a painting draped upon the wall, pale figures wreathed in the thinnest of silk, born from a stroke of a brush. The walls truly have ears and eyes. They were a sight to behold if only their reappearance wasn’t so foreboding… and now, they were laughing. Gloating, mocking him for the night's heartbreak. "Is my despair just as grand of a display for you all?" It was almost a strangled, gutted whisper– his voice had no trace of fear nor anger, and his crestfallen face did not conceal that. He gradually wrapped his arms around himself, upon sleeves that now wore his heart, as if that would be enough to soothe the vacancy that clawed at his chest. It never was. “I know I have been a fool, go on, tell me what I could have done to make it better.”

    Words tumbled past him like it was merely an afterthought. It was the false sense of power running in his veins that kept him from bolting away as soon as his sights landed upon them. Perhaps it was the way their ravishing faces shifted. Emotions, no matter how feigned, were still the uncanny reminiscent of them being human. Thoughts strayed, wondering what they were before this, before they were cooped up in a cold lair with snapping beasts and cobwebs. He almost felt… bad. As they closed in the distance, however, it took every fibre of his being not to shrink back as the enormity of the situation started to sink in. These were the same claws and teeth that nearly sank upon him before, and at the moment, the master of the house is nowhere to be found. He truly was alone, and that was well enough a sobering thought. "I'm not one to bid my goodbyes for far too long, Ma'am, perhaps you’re in luck." Smoothing down the remains of his shredded shirt, he sighed. “Maybe my return and my future anguish will be just as spectacular.”

    He had tempted death in that castle well enough tonight, for several times, in fact, and he was not sticking around for a few minutes more to see if three mouths were down to feed. 

    Oh, how bad of an ending that will be. Back to the outside world, he will be, and while the storm has died off, that didn't quell the lingering turbulence in his head. 

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