“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






Abraham Van HelsingJonathan HarkerMina HarkerThe BridesRenfield

Dr. John Seward│ Quincey MorrisArthur HolmwoodLucy Westenra│ Bruno Ikarov The Dread DoctorsKakistos

Erzsébet BáthoryVirgiliu DraculaMircea DraculaMarie Anette CarlisleNicholas Carlisle

Nathaniel Renwick Pavel Marlow Maria GoodwinRobert HensworthKarl LuegerLa bête du Gévaudan│

Javier CruezaCountess DolingenValeri DojstovGiovanni AgostiRalph the taxi driverPetar Blagojević

Steiner Leichtenberg │Rebecca HarrisLord EzekielAgmundr│Romenduz Tavala│



Castle DraculaThe Carpathian MountainsTomb of ThanatosThe VillageCarfax AbbeySeward's Sanitarium

The Tavala  VillageThe Kingdom of the Undying││

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


The Order of the Dragon The Order The Van Helsing Association │The Hunter societyThe Undying

The NetworkThe coalition against Dracula │The Eye│The CouncilThe New Dawn

The Department of Paranormal Activities 'DPA' The Pure│The Order of TrinityThe Red Paw

Blood Hunters The Company of Three


The sword of DraculDragon keythe 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 Timothy


The Hundred Year War│Failed London Takeover │ The French Campaign │The Blood Feud

Dracula's absence │The hunt for the Heartstone 


The Demeter Final DeathThe Ichor Kingdoms, empires, domains, provinces, territories, hunting groundsVampire Lord

The TraditionsHumans loyal to DraculaThrallAntediluvian│ 

BlightsThe AwakeningThe Wendigo of Castle DraculaRomanian TreasureFoul Rituals and Dark Beginnings







                                          "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




click image to view full story






         1895 - present


Born doomed, the young Robin was destined to become a vampire.

His mother, while pregnant, had been a victim of Dracula, and he had force-fed her some of his blood. And while the fiendish King Vampire was supposedly 'destroyed' in the end, his blood remained in her and was passed on to her son, unknowingly.

And so years later, during World War I and Robin was called and fell in battle; he rose again from the dead as a vampire. Thereby he took the fall for his mother unwittingly.


Now he is one of Dracula's lieutenants, an occasional anti-hero, and a magnet for trouble.


Portrayed by:  William Moseley












                           1896 - present


The Kanima is a creature that is not born out of the hard shell of an egg nor birthed out of the warm comfort of a mother's womb. No, it is created in a number of different ways, such as when a magical transformation is interrupted and a person's soul is confused and lost.

Timothy was one of these lost souls, filled with self-hatred, and doubt about his identity. And so when he was 'resurrected' by his vampiric lover in World War I, instead, he became the Kanima, and he hid from the world underneath a tough reptilian skin


Portrayed by: Luke Newberry












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  • As evening settled over the city, storm clouds began to roll in, bringing in its in downpour. In seconds, dry pavement was pelted by heavy raindrops that began to pool over the sidewalks. City lights flickered on one sign at a time, the gloomy atmosphere of the city transformed as reflections from vivid neon signs and the warmth of indoor lights bled together. Even the rain wouldn't deter the people that belonged to the city that never slept, as a sea of umbrellas arose above their heads. There was an intrinsic unity that the crowds moved in, that is, until someone disturbed said peace.

    A man was thrown outside a bar, Sundown Bar & Cafe the sign read on the door. He groaned in pain as he stumbled drunkenly to his feet, attempting to keep his balance as he gritted his teeth at the woman who did the deed. She wore a casual, comfortable raiment, a black tank top and grey sweat pants, her skin a ghastly pale tone with raven, wavy locks spilling over her shoulders, and metallic blue hues staring intensely at the man across from her with a furrowed brow. Her physique was that of a gymnast, yet could a girl of average height really throw a larger man like the one that just met the pavement?

    "C'mooonn, I wasn't done drinking!-" Croaked the man in a drunken stupor.

    "Yes, you fucking are. Now fuck off." The woman spoke in a low, booming voice that was enough to turn a few heads before she disappeared back into the building. The bar inside was dimly lit in a modern atmosphere, she found a seat at the bar, drenched despite what little time she spent outside

  • Beneath him, the young man was deathly still, too spent to resist, too shattered to beg for a life that frozen, frostbitten hands could barely hold. The ailing sorcerer was hardly aware of Harker's plight, only the moment that seemed to drag on forever before he could feel a beast feasting on his remains. And yet none of that happened– it was as if Death itself was deciding whether he was worth the easy path or not. 

    What was left of his vision was a fading blur, and beneath the cold light of the moon, the vampire was a mere silhouette of black. Yet there was warmth to be had in that voice, one that brought some sort of relief even as the words drifted off to nothingness, with his senses gradually evading him.

    Somewhere in his heart, Robin didn’t despise him. Maybe he wasn't that much of a failure after all.

    David figured he could peacefully fall asleep to that.


    Instead, he felt something press upon his lips, fingers prying his mouth open. There was the strange sensation of a thick fluid trickling down to his tongue, with the first mouthful forcing a gradual swallow– a voluntary movement that actually hurt. He was on the verge of crying out, only to realize that the next gurgling mouthful came faster than he could draw a breath. It was easy to make a choked-up mess out of him, a fragile thing that could not fend off anything, not even this bizarre, slippery mixture he was forcefully being fed. He wasn't able to catch on to the reasons why– it felt futile, trying to nurse a man who was as good as dead, the way gods originally intended. 

    But not for long.

    There was only a moment of reprieve before the sudden outburst of sensations, assaulting him all at once. At first, it was mainly agony as the numbness lifted, his body still reeling from the shock of what was recently endured. The biting cold was ever present, pervasive and dominating, gnawing at the throbbing bruises, worming its way to the bone. His chest felt like it was set alight, magnified by the searing pain from the burns on his arms. There was the pummeling headache, the hunger, the thirst– and then there was pleasure.

    It was almost frightening, the way it suddenly coursed through him like wildfire, replacing the icy lead in his veins. The euphoria of it demanded to be felt, the only thing stronger than pain. David could hear his heart pounding in his ears, an arrhythmic pulse through the peculiar upsurge, bearing a complex sense of ecstasy that he knew he never felt anywhere else. Not in the heated arms and digging nails of distant lovers that he already forgot as they drew blood. Not in Lucia's fervid kiss, or that exquisite giddiness that he once felt the moment she said yes – oh no, this felt like life itself– the way all tempestuous lives should be.

    Agrestal, unrestrained, a dauntless thing worth saving.

    Verdant eyes fluttered open. Twitching, trembling hands finally made their way up, gripping the wrist pressed against his lips– perhaps with the greedy strength that he never really knew he had. Proper vision took time to return, but it didn't take far too long for an inebriated mortal to realize what was going on. He could taste blood– was he even supposed to taste that? No, David cared not. His gaze finally drifted to the one responsible, and it was no other than Robin Harker, the only man who even bothered to save him over and over. 

    It was mystifying how a single lightheaded glance took him back.

    Faith was quite a disease, he once claimed. Contagious, schismatic, violent, even. He renounced entitled entities that demanded exaltation, shunned saints and martyrs who laid their lives for reverence. To the mortal, it was both mere desperation and the conquest for bliss, rapture mixed with madness, unsuited for deities that rendered themselves deaf and blind.

    That night, however, David truly understood.

    He has been a fool, when he could worship the one before his very eyes.

  • Belated, but thank you. Im always around to write. Zo has been part of many realms. Im impressed with Vladamir as well. 

  • In that debilitated state, the mortal was certain that there had been better days that he took for granted. Beneath drenched, tattered garbs, the deep lacerations upon his chest stood out, a vivid glaring shade of furious red upon pale skin that was now adorned with black and blue bruises. The rushing water has mostly washed away sanguine from his clothing, and yet it still left its faint remnants upon its ripped threads. Any predator will certainly catch the scent of it, the sharp undertone of rich iron in the minty, misty cold. Robin just happened to be the first, for a mind beset with the thought of something gangly and pale springing and shrieking out of the thicket, in a way, he was quite the welcome clouded sight.

    Whether this was a fortunate happenstance or not was quite… debatable. No matter how benign, the slightest movement sent a sudden surge of pricking pins and needles all over his flesh, which elicited an agonized whimper. Places of him where he thought had numbed away long ago were now wrought in pain, and he may have struggled if his limbs could even allow it. Alas, he was too exhausted to put up a fight. Save for the slow heaving of his chest, the young man remained listless in his arms, though he was conscious enough to hear the vampire out. Robin's voice which could have been a familiar source of relief was unnaturally loud in his ears, and yet that seemed to fare well enough in keeping him awake for a little while longer. His consciousness drifted in and out, an unsteady gaze lidded with delicate snowflakes upon fluttering lashes.

    Harker didn't seem like he was in pain anymore. That, David could at least fully realize, and yet… 

    "I– I'm sorry," The first of his words fell out as a feeble, strangled gasp. It was barely audible, easily drowned by the breeze whispering through the surrounding evergreens. "Robin, I'm so sorry." For a place so cold and watery, his mouth felt surprisingly dry– and coherence was a growing struggle on its own. Through the confusion and the ever-consuming fog that threatened to overtake his head, everything was gradually sinking into this distinctive twisted sense of realization, and dread.

    "I shouldn't have asked you this, I haven't–"

    No, he hasn't thought that through, no matter how much he wanted to believe that he did. He wanted to be stronger, and yet these desires merely paid him with regret. In that panicked delirium that was gripping him, there were far worse things than imminent death. Guilt being one of such, a gnawing mixture of grief and fear that takes all. "You can't fail. You can't." There was a growing sense of urgency and desperation in his voice, no matter how frail. Every drawn-out breath for each wavering word was enough to sap out whatever strength he had left, and yet he persisted. "I can't hold you back. He will kill you."

    Whether he was alluding to that hideous thing in the caverns or Dracula himself – one couldn’t be so certain anymore.

  • The Heir to the Throne of Darknessv


    The words of assurance uttered from the mouth of his kin echoed in Virgil’s mind. Words he could barely comprehend at a moment like this. It felt… odd. Different, somehow. He wasn’t sure whether he could take them to heart. Despite all, he had still heard his Father, Dracula, call this one a monster. Was it wise to fall into these words as if they were a thousand arms stretched out and ready to carry him? He would’ve shuddered if he could. But the cold presence of the frail remains of his brother somehow offered a warmth that he simply couldn’t ignore. As if them uniting in this cause was written into their very blood.


    One sentence stuck to his subconscious more than any other; Father never understood the difference between property and family. Property. Virgil’s eyes opened wider for a moment, his gaze fixed beyond the rock walls surrounding them. It was as if Thanatos had reached into his very chest and gently pulled out a single thread representing all his feelings and seen all that Virgil had seen throughout his life thus far. Property. A thing for his father to experiment with, shape and mould as only he saw fit. For a moment, his heart darkened even more. As though his doubts washed off his body like a drop of blood dissipating in the summer rain. Dracula, the ever-restricting presence, wriggling his fingers like serpents around his child’s future, suffocatingly, spirit-breaking- His thoughts were interrupted by the older sibling’s sharp command. His attention snapped back into reality with a second’s worth of confusion before the reality of the situation came back to him. Right. 

    As Thanatos slipped away into the wall, Virgil barely had time to see him disappear into the darkness in the wall. He took one step forward before a chill ran down his spine, followed by the thud of presumably meat and bone hitting the stone behind him. He turned around in hopes to glimpse whatever entity shared their space, back pressed against the wall as his hands gently traced the surface, trying to find the opening. What was he doing? Cowering from a lesser lif-... a lesser entity, fumbling in the dark to escape into the crevices of the room like some common rat? For a second, he hesitated, thinking that perhaps he should stand his ground. But it wasn’t just out of shame. There was a part of him that felt the need to protect his brother - be it out of love or to protect his investment he couldn’t tell. But something inside him told him to run, the warning of his kin felt too genuine to ignore. Besides, they needed to find another way out regardless. Thanatos was right. Their father was still there, probably, lurking upstairs. Better to live and let Dracula feel the sting of failure than to be torn apart by some ravenous spirit in the dark dank cavern. There. His fingers found the edges of the fissure and with a serpentine movement, Virgiliu slipped into further into the darkness, following his brother’s lead.

  • Fire. Of course! Demons of this calibre were always appalled by the light. Even before he could do anything more than that, however, the blow was enough to dislodge his hold. There was a white-hot flash of pain that flared across his body which only registered the moment he hit the ground, and yet David quickly sat up, hissing in agony as he forced himself away from the precipice. He could feel the strange warmth coursing upon his chest, and yet his companion was the only thing that held his attention at this point, steadfast enough to keep him from blacking out. A trembling, outstretched hand was reached, an attempt to pull Robin away from the mayhem of it all, and yet he wasn't able to hold him back. It would be futile to do so anyway, in a blink of an eye, the vampire was upon the flailing creature, roaring out a war cry that was just as feral.

    The first stab went straight to the fiend’s face, earning a fountain of blood spurting out the moment it was pulled. Pushing himself up to his feet, his misty gaze briefly swept about to notice the remains of some unfortunate soul that never made it to the other side, and back into the tumultuous shadows of flailing stretched arms, slicing claws and fire. This was a sight that he knew he won’t be forgetting any time soon – the sight of decorous Mr. Harker at his most monstrous, rampant with rage and unrestrained savagery. It was almost… beautifully excruciating to look at, and he was a powerless audience flinching at each hacking slice. At that moment, it wouldn’t take much to topple David off the edge, but Robin’s weight fully slamming upon him was enough to knock out his breath, flinging him off his feet. 

    From the constant running to the searing burns, the talons and the teeth, the embrace of the glacial water was just as unforgiving.

    . . .

    David could remember the fire. The plumes of smoke that rose up, blanketing the air in soot and in black. He could hear the whispers that never stopped, a dolorous choir of mouths uttering unintelligible spells in varying degrees of misery. “It’s alright. Mama is here. Look at me.”

    There were empty sockets where those silver eyes should be, tears easily spilling the blood that pooled therein. Each word that she whispered had sanguine bubbling forth from her lips, rivulets of it streaming down her chin. The scarlet was a glaring contrast to that glowing pale skin, light peering from the superficial cracks and the fatal wounds inflicted upon a figure so insipid and frail. And yet she was smiling– he could feel every inch of the blade in his chest, scrabbling broken fingers twisting and churning it deeper down to the hilt.

    “Ducky, Ducky darling–” He wanted to answer. He wanted to call out to that voice that belonged to his mother, he wanted to ask why.

    "– everything will be alright!”



    Reality dragged him back to life accompanied by a violent, sputtering cough, emptying the frigid fluid from his lungs. It was an unceremonious awakening to a whole new world of relentless throbbing agony as David found himself on his side, deposited to the edge of gods knew where, the rushing cold water still lapping up at his legs that remained submerged. Parts of him already felt numb, but there were patches that truly hurt, that still burned. 

    Languid eyelids gradually fluttered open. For a moment, all he could ever see was a muddle of blacks, prussian blues and whites. Snow. That was where he found his bed, a downy crevice of snow, rocks, felled twigs and water. Each wheezing breath of boreal air was torture, a scraping graze to his throat, might as well have the damned thing itself raking its talons down to his chest. Every fibre of his being felt like lead, he could hardly move a muscle. No matter how much he tried to move, to heave himself up, the fatigue has long settled in, a grip so strong, with a call of slumber that he could not resist.

    He wanted to sleep.  Again.

    Pathetic. Just, pathetic.

  • Synova’s head moved to watch Robin while he approached the corpse. The desecration was not rewarded with any particular reaction, be it interest or disgust. Perhaps the lack of reaction was somehow worse, for it showed the animal was not phased by the gruesome visuals and the visceral sounds of flesh being torn in such a seemingly effortless manner.

    Effortless… yes, that too was noted. Robin did not appear to struggle when he tore into the body; a blatant yet seemingly unintentional testimony of the strength that came with the vampiric kind. Perhaps Robin harbored something else behind those handsome features? Perhaps, perhaps not… Synova had time to learn. 


    ---"So you wish to follow?”

    An ascent of ears from relaxed to alert signified interest when Robin’s question arose. Excitement churned from somewhere within, and the fox rose upon all fours in anticipation as Robin vanished. His attention rose up towards where the man had reappeared, and something on his face shifted: a crack in the shadow, a tear that ripped across his maw to brandish needle-like teeth that seemed far solid and far too real for what his form was made of. A grin is what Synova presented; one most uncanny. The beast’s form disintegrated as if whatever was holding the smog together suddenly was no more. In an instantaneous occurrence, Synova reappeared directly beside Robin, staring up at him with lantern-eyes alight and that damned grin. “I will do my best to keep up.” 

    Challenge accepted. 

    Wherever Robin went, Synova followed. The fox moved with sporadic and oftentimes erratic motions; sometimes sprinting, leaping and bounding from rooftop to rooftop like an animal, sometimes vanishing entirely and reappearing at a much closer proximity to Robin than he was before. Synova would occasionally respawn immediately in front of Robin with the fiendish intentions to trip him up if caution was not taken. It was all a game to him, and Synova was thrilled to find one who seemed at least somewhat willing to play. 

    “I too am on a mission of sorts.” The voice mused quite close to Robin’s ear. Synova had once again vanished, yet reappeared upon the man’s shoulders when a solid form was presented. Hind paws stood upon one shoulder, his body angled behind Robin’s head, and forepaws took their place on the other shoulder. If Robin moved to throw him off or continue on his rapid travel, the fox would disintegrate and re-appear beside him. He continued their sprint while he spoke, yet paused to rest if Robin chose to do so. The vampire set the pace, the fox followed. 

    “Strange beings have been appearing where they shouldn’t be; beings not of this dimension. Pray tell, does your mission have any links to these creatures, or are you after something else entirely?”

  • Each look taken back, he could already see the silhouette of it, a pale, gangly thing scuttling upon the walls and the rugged floors. It sped after them on all fours, claws scraping against earth and stone at each pounce, joints audibly popping and creaking at each movement whenever its ravenous screams didn't fill the place. The deteriorating condition of the two was inevitable, at some point David realized that their pace was slowing down, every inch of him throbbed and ached like it was the only sensation left to be had. As the only bridge they had crumbled off into the dark, it was his turn to pull him back just before they both fell in, his feet nearly skidding to the edge for a barely decent foothold, sending off a crumble of pebbles and dust.

    Only then that the horrified sorcerer notice that the coat he used to bandage him up has already sloughed off at some point in their escape, leaving his innards tumbling out and about. He barely had any time to comprehend that as the fiend closed in with an ear-splitting screech, and for a moment, he was actually able to see what they were up against. Whatever knowledge of human anatomy that remained allowed the young man to recognize the faintest structure of something familiar – something that used to be mortal. Taut skin pulled to cloak an emaciated frame, sunken eyes webbed and obscured by cataracts, bits of decrepit clothing that remained and a tarnished adornment that no one will ever have the time to discern. This abomination was human! What kind of transmutation can produce something this unholy? He was left to stare back in open-mouthed terror as Robin launched himself upon the beast, a noble yet agonizing attempt to subdue which was still met with a disastrous blow.

    The vampire went down with a sickening crack, a shredded ragdoll in the face of a brutish canine... and despite all of that he still gave the human what he truly needed – a few precious seconds of surrender to instinct. No rituals, circles, or elaborate stitches of spellwork, merely a response fueled by adrenaline and fear coursing through every cornered prey. With only a feeble torch in hand placed before him like it was a good enough weapon, the sorcerer could feel something swell inside his chest, rushing its way up into his throat. A flicker of sparks bloomed upon the hands that clutched the wood, and focusing upon what was left of the fire, he took a deep breath. For that gaping maw of crooked, rotting teeth, that monstrous face no one could ever recognize, to those outstretched talons caked in blood that was meant to sink into him like a hot knife upon butter – David finally delivered his answer. Whatever ounce of strength left, he breathed into the flame to fortify it – and not once did it sputter. Tongues and flashes of fire reached back in equally fervent vigour, a seething wave of radiance fully funnelled into the direction of the beast, illuminating everything its glow ever cast. The famished blaze was strong, far more potent than he initially anticipated, the guttural roar of the erupting flames almost rivalling the shrieks in his ringing ears. It was enough to momentarily set the cavern alight, painting the jagged stone walls and the fringes of the watery abyss in an outburst of infernal colours and sharp shadows.

    The initial comforting warmth quickly burned into a hellish burst of fanning hot breeze. There were no gods to pray to, only a plea for the fires to put an end to this monstrosity. David gasped in a breath, almost choking at a lungful of scorching air, only then that the torch started to flutter at each ragged breath that he took. Bleary eyes frantically swept around for any trace of the vampire, and he wasted no time to rush over.

    It was a bold move, a very risky one, but there was no other direction but down, and there was no way in this makeshift hell that he was leaving him there. Within moments, his seared hand latched upon anything left of Robin’s mangled body that he can hold on to, a last-resort attempt to drag him away. He can apologize profusely later if they actually made it out alive.

  • There was obviously no offense taken for the scathing response. With the human enamored with what he was looking at, might as well say that he was too distracted to hear it at all. No impudence nor apologies, only the mere fact that this was perhaps the very first time he was actually at his happiest since his arrival to Romania, only restrained by the burden of choosing what he could possibly take, and the heartbroken thought of what he will have to leave behind. There were important things that the sorcerer ended up forgetting, but this faint information that fell past his lips certainly sprang up with little to no difficulty. Brief pauses were taken as he quickly presented various things to the vampire, with David happily and feebly prattling on about whatever item his trembling hands ended up clutching upon, and conscientiously returning each one to where it was. 

    From the most basic tools, bits of surviving accessories, weapons forged from chipped and weathered stone– there was boyish excitement to be had in those eyes, and it bled into his voice that could barely contain it. Poor Mr. Harker, perhaps he didn't have any choice on the matter but to listen in. They were standing before a proof of history more ancient than both of their times combined, and while there was no guarantee that Robin would appreciate this as much as he did… sometimes it just felt pleasant to share it with someone else.

    Alas, a few minutes to spare will never be enough to marvel at what the place has to offer. The next thing David knew, a hand already grabbed him, yanking him away. A broken piece of a flinthead fell past his grasp, landing upon the dirt with hardly a sound from the scuffle. He instinctively tried to retrieve that, a springing move akin to a fish caught in a line, but Robin's grip was stronger that he nearly fell back, only held up by the claws tightly wound upon a delicate arm. Beneath disheveled sleeves, the sorcerer seemed unsurprisingly fragile, unable to physically put up a sliver of a fight. "No, no– wait!"

    It was useless. His pleas fell upon deaf ears, and for a very good reason. He could feel his blood run cold the moment he heard that screech filling those godforsaken chambers, and that was the only time he willingly allowed himself to be led, legs finally moving to keep him from being helplessly dragged away. They were up and running again, and with one sharp turn, the very sight that he was just fawning over seconds ago was gone, one more thing counted with many losses. Back into the darkness and to reality they went, hunted as prey, with the faint torch in his hand barely illuminating the way.

    David knew he would never set his eyes on that place ever again. Not even a proper goodbye. Mr. Harker's discovery will go unheard, barely spoken of– not that they could inform the lord of the house that there was something worth exhuming and studying beneath the castle without giving away their current predicament right before a very important task.

    While the threat to his life remained on the trail, to say that David was quite gutted was an understatement. Not in a literal sense as the vampire who was practically hauling him at this point just to get him to keep up. A muted sniffle or two might have escaped him at some point, but really, that was instantly lost with him trying to catch his ragged breath. If not for the cold bruising grip upon him with those claws digging into his flesh, he would have already stumbled many times. 

    It was starting to grow colder, with his breath fogging up at each gasp. They might be close to any proper opening there was, or at least he hoped. How was Robin even faring in all that pain?

  • The Heir to the Throne of Darknessv

    For a moment, he cannot decide how to act in regards to his brother’s slight recovery. Whether to coddle him like some frail mortal babe, or to give him space to find footing on his own. It’s almost as if though he somehow cared for the creature though they’d not known each other until now. Cared for in more ways than one cares for a much-needed hammer to hit a nail that’s been sitting loosely into a wooden board. Surely this was but a moment of weakness, brought on by his conflicting emotions. Thanatos was just a hammer, after all, a supposed means to an end. Or, at least, that’s what he should only have been.

    Watching Thanatos find his feet, to what extent was possible in his current state, did bring Virgil some form of comfort again. Perhaps he hadn’t made such a big mistake after all - at least not from his side of the story. Fear slowly dissipated as anger towards Dracula once more trickled into his mind like a brook in spring as the snowy mountains begin to melt. The words uttered by his kin helped only to fuel that anger. That wrath. But just as he was about to open his mouth to spew petty insults on their father’s name, the sudden shriek that filled the catacombs, caused Virgil to stumble backwards one step. He’d almost forgotten the beast Thatanos had just mentioned. So caught up was he in emotional turmoil, it was hard to keep his mind on a singular thing. Whatever manner of creature this Wendigo was, it was unlike anything Virgil had even heard before, and it was nearly fearsome enough to make him feel… helpless. And with a brother that could barely walk without breaking a bone, he knew they were not in a position to make a stand. At least not without risking everything.


    Virgil drew a quick, almost nervous, breath as the other vampire stepped into his personal space. His neck pivoted backwards slightly - he didn’t truly know his brother’s intentions. He knew he was unreliable - at least according to their father. But it can never hurt to be cautious around things you do not truly understand. But even so, there was something about the confidence with which he was approached that calmed him. “I know only his side of the story. But regardless of whether that story is real or not, regardless of what ‘crimes’ you may have committed-” He paused to tilt his head forward again, eyes locked onto Thanatos’ gaze; “Dracula must learn that he cannot control everything, and that trying will only end in failure.” His eyes broke contact and shifted to the floor as he hissed out between his teeth; “Because of his failings with you, he put me on a leash that he only made shorter and shorter the more I fought against it. Inevitably, the leash broke. And where else could I go but into my brother’s embrace, despite the fate that he brought onto my mother?”. His words were sharp and reeked of anger, but that anger was not directed towards his brother, perhaps why his eyes fell instead to the floor. “I do not blame you for my mother's death” he continued, “She was a victim of his relentless pursuit of perfection. I was meant as your replacement. Your actions were justified”. Whether those last words were meant for his half-brother or himself, he was not quite sure of~ 

    After he’d given his dramatic little speech, he glanced over the other vampire’s shoulder, thinking that they better get moving. Whether or not his explanation was enough or not would probably have to wait, thus he moved even closer yet to his brother. Cheek almost brushing cheek. “Further explanation should perhaps wait until we are out of these dull, unfriendly caves?”

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