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• 

  D R A C U L A July 4, 2024 at 2:52am

  

  Having eloped his father’s prison and evaded a clash with hunger itself given flesh and bone, time now suddenly seemed frozen for Thanatos, a sense of dread suffusing his dark heart despite attempts to shake it, something he could not do with the eventuality of oblivion or returning to his stony confines looming over his head. Indeed, Thanatos quickly came to the bitter realisation that with each step taken, his anguish would only come to multiply until such a time that he was a thousand miles away from the castle above his head, the physical manifestation of all that he loathed and desired in the world but ultimately could not have and now only wished to destroy.

  That said, Thanatos refused to oust any of these fears or thoughts to his brother: he would not allow himself to appear more feeble than what was already pathetically apparent for anyone with a pair of eyes to see. Nay, instead, he placed on himself an outward mask of perhaps even unsettling calm, taking the reins and bidding Virgil to follow with him as he ventured ahead into the seemingly unending caverns, relying on fractured memories to guide his way and the faintest of hope that he was right in doing so – and so he was.

  Following a leap of faith into an underground stream, flowing like the lifeblood of the mountain itself, Thanatos and Virgil soon found themselves sopping from head to toe, standing at the edge of a riverbank and surrounded by a not-too-unfamiliar forest, with the last rays of setting sun vanishing just over the treetops, giving room for darkness to fester – by all accounts a glorious sight for any predator of the night!

  And yet the smells of the moss and bark, the sounds of nocturnal creatures awakening now to go about their nightly business, and even the sensation of a cool breeze against his skin all failed to move Thanatos in any meaningful way. All he could think of was his woes and how long he had been trapped down there in the darkness, unaware of the happenings in the world that had unfolded without him. What kings or emperors had fallen or risen in his absence – what had he missed??

  Thanatos obviously had no answers to any of these questions right now, though he would soon enough. Therefore, he wasted no time and urged his brother into action so as not to fall prey to catch that moment of reprieve and slow down their momentum – there simply wasn’t enough time if they were to succeed. Granted, Thanatos did allow for a brief farewell to take place, pointing his finger towards the silhouette of their father’s castle that could still be seen in the faraway East, tall towers reaching like jagged tombstones towards the sky. “If your heart is so inclined,” he began, his voice betraying his fury, “I'd say my goodbyes, brother. For you will not see this place again, I think. You made sure of that the moment you set me loose.” Meanwhile, Thanatos himself did not shed a tear for the departure from his ancestral home and could only long for the moment those towers would crumble into the ground like a house of cards, laughing as they did so.

  But, in order for that time of emancipation to come, he and his brother first had to survive tonight. And that meant as soon as Virgil finished saying his goodbyes to foolish old sentiments, Thanatos immediately began prodding him about the state of the world as they began marching through the forest as fast as a broken body would allow. Mind you; these were not questions to satisfy his own curiosity but simply those that needed to be answered in order for Thanatos to formulate the bare bones of a plan of action for the foreseeable future, something he was able to bring himself to accomplish despite his mind being much in the shape of a shattered mirror in need of a good mend.

  His plan was as this:  in two nights or so from now, as they reached the end of the Carpathian Mountains, he and his brother needed to stop at the town of Cluj-Napoca, that is if Lord Dacian still holds praxis, or Timişoara if he does not. There, they must supply themselves for the long road ahead, gorge themselves on blood and rest for as long as they may without their father catching wind of where they are. Above all, they must be as shadows in the night, unseen and unheard.

  Second, the further from the devil they can manage, the safer they'll be from his ensuing wrath. Granted, no place on this side of the hemisphere could be far enough to be completely out of his reach, but what is a man to do but what little he can with what he got to play his hand? Anyway, to this end, they must flee the country as soon as they’re able, stopping at Vienna to garner support for future endeavours to be possible, even though that too provides its own set of dangers if, indeed, it remains aligned with the Holy Roman Empire. Not out of dread for the crooked jaw of the Habsburgs, of course, but from the flaming torches of the Second Inquisition. Infernal vampire hunters. Followers of God? Pfft – nothing but madmen and petty-minded mortals through which religion is their way to quench their killing urge. Thanatos would have admired them, if it was not at the same time hopelessly pathetic. 

  Third, and finally, they must reach the Kingdom of France in order to retrieve a hidden fortune that Thanatos had managed to place there years earlier placed there without his father knowing about it, as well as collect on a long-overdue debt from a ‘dear’ old friend of his if by chance he still haunts these nights that is. 

  Then, and only then, may they try and build something for themselves there, in France, where their father sees little influence. Where they may plant the seeds of his destruction or, at least, cause as much mayhem to his existence before being scattered by the morning wind as dust.

  A lot of ifs, maybes and buts to this plan, Thanatos realises. But without any other option available that he could see, what else were he and his brother to do but proceed headfirst into the heart of the storm? Because it seems Virgil hadn’t precisely planned this whole thing out beforehand, leaving it up to Thanatos to take up that burden.

  There was also the matter of his shattered mind and feeble body… though those were things corrected in due time when such a thing was possible. For now, Thanatos had to rely on his brother to act as his shield, even though dependence on another was a foul taste in his mouth. 

   

  …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

   

  • One year later, the Kingdom of France, in front of a mysterious house in the heart of Paris…

   

  The next few months had not passed by without their share of hardships. First off, Thanatos’s and his brother’s journey had gotten off on a rough start as the Lord of Cluj-Napoca had been supplanted by a man who was as stubborn as he was unsightly to behold. Moreover, this new Lord was unwilling to submit to their requests, even though Thanatos had forced Virgil to be the one to make them for fear of being recognised himself. And it was for this reason they had fled before he had called for their arrest, meaning they had to swiftly turn their sights towards Timişoara instead, a place which, after some coaxing and the promise of a favour performed at a later date, eventually allowed them a brief haven to clean up and supply themselves with fresh clothes and make ready for the venture ahead by partaking in quite a feast, an occasion which resulted in the deaths of three mortals at Thanatos’s immense thirst before he was forced into exercising restraint by his brother. 

  Also, Vienna had turned out to be a veritable death trap. Granted, Thanatos had expected some amount of difficulty in garnering the favour of the various political entities of the city, which had long been against one another, an understandable if not laughable side effect of the paranoia of operating so close to one of the centres of power of the Second Inquisition. However, he had not predicted to find them engaged in an all-out war for the right to rule – a conflict seemingly stoked by the political turmoil of the mortals and their perpetual wars, as was often the case. All ‘under the covers’, of course, not meant to be seen, but even as an outsider, Thanatos could see such a thing clear as day. Also, add to this the sudden presence of the barbarian Sabbat into the mix, as well as the Inquisition becoming aware of what was happening under their noses, and it all just served to stir the pot, further ‘complicating things’, if you will. The Sabbat were of little threat, of course. From what Thanatos knew about them and encountered during his stay in Vienna, they seemed nothing more than unrefined animals, more beasts than vampires, easily avoided. The Second Inquisition, however, proved no joke -- living up to their feared reputation and even eventually forcing Thanatos and Virgil to escape with little more than what they came in with. Now as for what happened to the domain after that, who could say.

  Fleeing the city carried its slew of dangers along the way, too. The relentless need for blood was a constant source of concern for Thanatos and his Brother, as was evading the pursuit of a handful of hunters from the Second Inquisition who trailed after them, following them into the countryside and hounding them day and night. As for how they accomplished this, Thanatos couldn't fathom – moreso busy resisting the urge to seek out and kill them, a feat he thankfully realised would be near insurmountable even before being crippled, and so managed to restrain himself. Come to think of it, the reason for why they managed to catch up was likely because of his condition, a sad and disgusting truth not so easy for Thanatos to come to terms with. 

  Eventually, though, Thanatos and Virgil successfully reached their destination, their pursuers seeming to have lost their trail somewhere along the way, possibly at the border between Lorraine and the Kingdom of France, where they currently found themselves. 

  Now, standing in front of a house which, coincidentally, happened to rest right on top of the treasure he had buried so long ago, Thanatos could not help but simply allow a simple word to slip from his lips. “Shit.” Then turning to his brother, he smiled, though hardly out of joy for the situation at hand. “Well,” he said, motioning over the building in a way that indicated annoyance, “this certainly was not here when I last was.”
• 

  Niomi June 20, 2024 at 12:56pm

  Would you like to rp with me?
• 

  Raiya May 6, 2024 at 11:36pm

  The sting of seared flesh and decay gave rise to residual memories, ones which held vague semblance to the rot-ridden emanation that clung to certain beasts from times long passed; creatures that, like these lanky things of snarling lips and bristled fur, seemed to have been created in mockery of the natural world.

  
  Shit. Raiya dropped down into a low crouch once the first rustle was heard. She held stock still, extraordinarily tense while she listened to her surroundings. The west, the northwest, the south, the east. Had she fallen into a trap? The age-old game of luring curious prey straight into an ambush? They knew she was there, but how long until they found her location? Her answer came soon enough, for the sounds of their approach drew nearer with seemingly deliberate coordination.

  Eyes of sharp blue found the moon-like eyes of the beast ahead of her. Vertical pupils dilated, a visible response to the cold rush of adrenaline that surged through the elven's taut nerves. Raiya willed her limbs to move and slowly, ever so slowly, rose back onto her feet. She was surrounded, but gods be damned-- she would not remain on her knees.

  To hear tangible words from that tusk-laiden maw was not something Raiya was expecting, and a momentary drop of her expression was a testimony of her confusion. The language held a very distant echo of familiarity, yet that was where recognition and comprehension ceased to be.

  "I... cannot understand you." Raiya spoke out loud, falling back upon her native Elvish tongue as opposed to the language of the locals. She did not dare to suggest a mental link with the beast to aid in communication, for she did not know the sort of magic these things may hold.

  Raiya's attention was kept on a swivel on the beasts around her, yet her immediate focus remained on what appeared to be the ringleader of the group. These were pack animals, she figured, and past experiences dictated that beasts would not attack until the head gave a signal. But alas, Raiya had been wrong before. Her hands remained on the hilts of her twin daggers, prepared to spring at the slightest deviation of their slow, creeping steps.
• 

  Dolai May 6, 2024 at 1:52am

  “The sun, the sister | of the moon, from the south

  Her right hand cast | over heaven's rim;

  No knowledge she had | where her home should be,

  The moon knew not | what might was his,

  The stars knew not | where their stations were.”
  
  

  +++++++++++++

   

  Dawn split the sky. The great night paled to soft turquoise, the magnificent star in the eastern horizon erupting orange and yellow. It rose to meet her, shining upon the ash tree it found her perched in. It was a sight that had never tired her. Despite her years, she never could recall two sunrises, nor sets, that looked the same. Amber eyes sparked on the alert, as two ravens crossed her vision. They flew in perfect synchronicity, a dance that revealed the pair were mates. They alighted towards the north, towards where she could see blue swathes bringing an abrupt halt to the land.

  The North.

  On her own time, she would’ve stayed for a while to gaze upon the fleeting colors, but she had not come here alone. Nor without purpose. Feet met the ground. A quick turn on her heel and she was descending from the hill, back towards the river’s edge where she had left the Tewtéh. They had begun to wake with the sun, packing up the little they had brought with them. When they spotted her golden form breeching the hill, she was greeted with song, calls, exclamations of praise, joining the early choir of songbirds. She raised a long fingered hand, a gentle smile parting her lips.

  “We are almost there!” She declared joyously as she walked amongst them, eyes sparkling at their devoted grins and gazes. “The raven has told me,” She bent to pick up a blue eyed child. “The land of the everlasting herd, land of the salmon, land of the mountain, of wood and water, of ice and fire!  Land of the eternal sun! It is yours, my people!” Her fist broke the air. Calls, whoops, song and dance erupted like the sun in the morning sky. They were a tired tribe, and yet they were filled with the spirit of passion, their devotion towards their goddess carrying worn feet over grasslands, mountains, through rivers and towards the ice-formed sea. “We waste no time!”

  “Sehwol! Sehwol!”

   

  Sól.

   

  +++++++++++++

   

  Some decades ago, she had arrived in the south, near the sea that divided this fraction of earth from her birthplace. Sól had been called from the world of desert and dreams by a series of visions and a sense that she should do so. She had encountered a starving people, blighted by the changing environment. Her sway over the abundance of the land had earned their deepest devotion and reverence.

  Some centuries before that, she was a Queen. A Goddess. Master of the storm. And when that no longer suited her, she decided to explore the furthest regions of her widespread home. This lead to many discoveries of people so similar to the one’s she was birthed to, countless moons ago. Yet, it was a sharp reminder, that those people were long, long gone.  A blade that cut deep and dripped bittersweet as she rejoined unfamiliar yet so similar nomadic peoples, who dared not wander North towards the Glacier.

  Only she knew that the ice was melting, for she had seen it. She knew it was a land promised to them, for the Soul of the World had shown it to her. And the Soul never lied. Many were skeptical, despite their reverence for the goddess and attached to the place they were born to, the land they had wandered for moons upon moons. This she readily accepted, and many, many more were apt to follow her.

  And like every time she was Called, she could not help but wonder “why?”

   

  +++++++++++++

   

  A small blade chipped away, peeling strips of ash wood. Chip, chip, chip. Amber eyes fixated on the distance, a sensation of pressure growing within her. After all this time, and they stop here? There could only be one reason.

  “Great Goddess of Light and Life,” a gruff voice broke her stream of thought as she gazed over the sea, and the land bridge leading far beyond her vision. “Yes?” Sól replied. “We have travelled all day and through the night, yet you have stopped here,” the muddy-haired, bearded man stated. “Is this not the land you have promised?” “Oh, bull-blooded Táwros, across that stretch of land lies your new home,” she murmured. “And it speaks.” He cocked one brow, his head tilted. She crouched, placing her palm against the earth, feeling her own heartbeat increase, a pressure building against her.

  She stood abruptly. “You must trust me,” said Sól. “Go unto the Tewtéh, tell them I have gone to speak with the land. I must gain its blessing before we enter,” she shook her head. “Or we will not be welcomed.” Táwros nodded understandingly. “I will return as soon as I have received the blessing, until then, guide the people. Your father needs you, I fear the journey has weathered his life force.” Táwros black eyes fell to the ground at their feet. “And there is nothing you can do for him?” He murmured. Sól paused, lips twitched as if she were to speak but she held her tongue. Her wind escaped her chest from her nostrils, and she took his calloused hand. “I bring life,” she breathed, placing the ash wood piece in his hand. “I cannot stop death.”

  For a moment they stood in silence, the wind whisking around them. “Go,” she ordered, taking a few steps down the hill. “Tell them I will return.” Táwros bowed his head, turning to head the opposite direction back towards the camp. The man looked down at the wooden piece in his palm; an idol. The form of a guiding spirit, one that assisted the transition between worlds. “And Táwros?” The man turned back to her. “Arm yourselves,” Sól spoke. “Giants roam here.” He blinked, thinking of what to say. And before he could, the light-bringing goddess was already beneath the hill, bounding for the tree-line due north.
• 

  Raiya May 1, 2024 at 8:18pm

  Dusk shapes the hillsides, painting traces of reds and oranges across the benevolent evergreens. The gale that rustled through branches fickle was strangely stagnant and bore an astringency of damp earth and decay. It brushed against her cheeks, sending a chill through Raiya’s form that could not be solely blamed on the creeping cold. 

  It was a mistake to come here alone, something whispers, instinct humming to the baited breath of a forest devoid of leaf rustles and bird song.

   

  “A wolf”

  “Rabid dogs”

  “Demons.”

   Hope had always been but a frangible leaf still clinging to a withered branch, and with each whispered rumor, each carnage-ridden news report and each empty promise given by authorities, Raiya had gradually gained the acceptance that the culprits of these recent disturbances were strangers rather than anyone she may have once called kin. 

  Hope turned to anger when a new uproar had arisen around mangled corpses found in an alleyway. Such a massacre seemed so out of place in this jungle of concrete and bustling life– they held an uncanny resemblance to the murders that took place in camping grounds outside of the city. To see them here only revealed that whatever these creatures were, they were becoming bold. Raiya’s soul was forever claimed by the Wildlands, yet she had grown fond of the inhabitants of this city. So when she spotted a flash of movement in the shadows, the she-elf did not hesitate to follow. She only caught a brief glimpse of what it may have been; a human that did not look quite right, one who bore eyes that glinted beneath a brief brush of a flickering streetlight.  

  Raiya had not tailed whatever it was too closely, for the uncertainty of this thing’s nature instilled a sense of heightened caution, especially considering that she had entered these woodlands practically unarmed save for a pair of daggers she carried and the magic that hummed just beneath her skin.

  A broken branch here, a depression in the grass there, the occasional drops of dark ichor that stained the sodden forest floor in uneven intervals. The farther along the forest Raiya traveled, the more she noted signs of multiple disturbances. Unease grew with each individual trail she identified that seemed to weave alongside one another, a wordless revelation that whatever that creature was, it was not alone. 

  Yet despite the warning signs both physical and instinctual, something kept her on that trail with a featherlight stalk and senses that bristled like a cat’s agitated fur. Whatever they were, Raiya hoped that she would find them before they found her.
• 

  Oliver Harker June 2, 2023 at 3:01pm

  There’s a short interim between words spoken in transactional conversation, a tiny pause - but it’s enough for the lad to become distracted. His attention is whisked away by his keen nose yet again as it turns somewhat discretely to catch the array of scents permeating through the room: a strong new habit of his and a compulsion ever since the bite. Sure, it was useful at times, but sometimes, or most of the time, it only really served to drive him positively balmy. This is because his untrained puppy brain could not process the huge amount of information rolling in yet; he could only strive to try and block it, though often to little avail. So it is no surprise that often he ended up being in a constant state of overloading, trying to distinguish between the myriads of different noxious stinks floating through the concrete jungle. Even inside the diner, here in the now, Oliver found himself slightly overwhelmed - like now, currently smelling the apple bubblegum in the stranger’s pocket in the nearby corner booth as well as the other food items around, such as the spilt syrup somewhere in the back of the kitchen. There was also an additional scent, too, one that stood out among the rest that Oliver could not place at first, at least not until Nathan spoke again and stole back his attention. Because buried underneath an aroma of coffee, it was him; Nathan was the source; there was a redolence of sweetness—something about him? It was unlike anything Oliver had ever encountered. It intrigued him a tad, and he was puzzling to place it, yet he was pulled from his brain-wracking when he detected noise directed towards him. It brought him back to the now, though he was sure he had missed a word or two. However, this was nothing new; cruising around fractured conversations brought on by forms of disassociation was somewhat of a well-honed skill of his - from before the bite even. 

   

  “Oi, you wouldn’t mind checking, bruv? Thanks - haven’t had a taste of home for… well, for a long while.” Oliver’s lips twitched into a pathetic attempt at a smile; he did not much care for the miserable cuisine from back home, like, at all, and it showed. Usually, he’d go for a pizza or a kebab, fuck, even Mcdonalds'. But it would be nice to jolt some old memories back to life, slobbering down some bland-beans and what have you. Childhood trauma on bread. Brrr…

  Oliver moved closer to the counter, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind screaming, telling him to change his order to something sensible. “Ye’, I’ll have a coffee, please. Caffeine-jitters is a problem for future me, I say.” A genuine jerk of lip muscle, showing some parlour whites. 

  “I’m Oliver, by the way.” He did not know why he told his real name just so; he never did, for paranoid fear of somehow being discovered. He always used an alias. But there was just something trustworthy about this Nathan character - Oliver felt it in his gut, or in his nose, or whatever.
• Community Leader

  Victor Blood March 21, 2023 at 7:07pm

  (Hey sorry i missed your message. If you are still around and still wana plot lmk)
• 

  Oliver Harker February 20, 2023 at 5:59am

  Detecting a familiar accent wafting through the air, Oliver is thrown off for a second, yet his curiosity is piqued through the mental haze of work exhaustion, and he promptly pricks up his ears to attention. Listening, he gathers that the British intonation of the voice speaking to him was not as strong as it once probably was, diluted by years spent chumming it up on foreign soil. Still, Nathan’s origins are blatantly apparent to anyone with a pair of working ears. And as silly as it sounds, the refined sounds of his mother tongue, hearing it, causes in Oliver a momentary bout of daftness to take hold, unfounded tendrils of paranoia reaching the forefront of his brain, an idea popping up involving Nathan being there to haul Oliver’s arse back home to England. Oliver laughs internally at the preposterous nature of the notion as it fails the sanity check and is slapped down hard. Now, what was the question again? He’d gotten a bit trapped inside himself for a moment… oh, right, now he remembers. 

  Hoping that not too much time has eluded, he scoots a bit closer to the counter, but before he frantically starts perusing through the menu like he’s deciding on his last supper, Oliver turns to greet the other male, a friendly nod and a somewhat forced smile spreading - it wasn’t disingenuous or anything, only weak. “Oh, hey. Good day, err - night, uhh–.” Was it day, night, or was it morning? An amused chuckle/scoff escapes his lips, punctuated by a heavy sigh before he speaks again, his voice hinting at some embarrassment. “Sorry, mate, heads not entirely in the game; let’s just say ‘hello in the a.m.’ for now.” 

  Now comes the part he hates the most; making a hecking choice. His eyes roll past Nathan to gaze at the menu, of which there perhaps aren’t many options listed, or maybe there are; it’s all the same to Oliver. To him, the light-up menu billboard might as well have been a page ripped from the bible. Had he read it? Fuck no. The young male is just about to start to read when he takes pity on Nathan; poor blighter would have had to stand there for at least two minutes while Oliver pondered over his chosen food. So, in a panic to lessen the stress of his waiter, the lad decides on the closest thing, the first thing he sees. “I’ll have a cinnamon roll and coffee.” A warm, more awake-than-before smile is given. Yet no less than a second passes when Oliver remembers he’s allergic to cinnamon! Or, at least he was; he didn’t know if ‘the bite’ had changed any of that, and he didn’t wanna chance an encounter with gobbling up some antihistamine pills, which he didn’t have on him or at his mate’s flat. Correcting his order, he speaks up, “Sorry, could you change my order? I’ll have the—” He cruises the menu again, “The Belgian waffles, instead.” Another smile, more sheepish. “ Sorry for my messy head; dealing with indecisive gits like me is the last thing you wanna do in the morning, I’m sure.”   

  He forgot to order the coffee when correcting his order. Oh, dear, oh dear.
• 

  Agnes February 20, 2023 at 12:45am

  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.
• 

  D R A C U L A February 17, 2023 at 7:48am

  It may not have been the most judicious use of his time, given the scarcity of said particular commodity at that point. Yet all the same, regardless of the peril, Virgiliu risked un-life and limb trying to foolishly sneak a peek during this - this the perhaps most chaotic moment thus far in the vampire’s unholy existence. In turn, it was then terribly lucky for him that the cat’s curiosity did not actually kill, as the old proverb would say, but reward. For his daredevil, borderline harebrained ways, Thanatos's half-brother is granted a scant glimpse of what manner of never-before-seen to him hellion they were fleeing. Before his eyes, a twisted form unfolds quickly, starting as a crouched, ball-like shape to a standing tall, most grotesque, long-limbed-looking monstrosity. Gaunt it was, that much he could gather from even a mere glance - to the extreme point that the pale ashen-like skin showed every dip, line, and contour of the bones beneath. In response to Virgil’s presence, the mouth of the creature opened wide, fuming rotten breath from behind ill-shapen chompers, pointed and deadly, and simply thrown into place without a shred of care. Finally, a pair of horribly milky-white eyes stared down at him from above, seemingly, to meet his own. A shriek, like shattering glass, rang through the air next, slicing through whatever slivers of what could be considered a soul within Virgil. 

  Thankfully, for his sake, Dracula’s younger son did not linger for another second to nurture his fascination. Wisely, did he follow his elder brother in tow, hurriedly diving into the wound in the rocks, vanishing into safety like a mouse evading a great cat. But it was by the mere skin of his teeth; behind, Virgiliu would feel whipping winds, pushed by desperate hands trying to grab him, pull him back. Ultimately, though, safeguarded by whatever dark force kept him going, he soon emerges unharmed and out of reach from any misshapen claws, standing now in a massive long-reaching cavern on uneasy, rocky terrain, with the ground slanting steeply down into a terrible chasm at the bottom of which could be heard a wild river. Had Virgiliu been anything but what he was, or had it been daytime currently, he’d have lost his footing there and then and tumbled like a wooden barrel straight into the precarious unknowns below. To the side, he found Thanatos sitting already, back against the wall. He looked relatively unmoved by the whole ordeal. Loudly, the elder brother declared without looking at his little brother, voice echoing into the vast expanse of the barriers that apparently rose around them, “Here, I shall rest. Take a moment of reprieve for meself. Then we will, well, exit.” Exit? Wherever could that… wait, oh. The wretch pointed down into the abyss, a smirk appearing on his lips. 

  Some time is made to pass in deafening silence, the moment filled only by the running stream far below. If ever Virgil did attempt to fill the void during this time, he was stopped by a raised hand. Whether this was because the older leech was enjoying the stillness or simply puzzling together his following sentence is unclear, but he denies his younger brother conversation all the same until well a minute has passed, at which point Thanatos’s head finally leans back against the stone behind him, a queer chuckle escaping his lips in relaxation. He then looks to his brother, a rather relaxed face showing, yet somehow no less devoid of wrath. “I gathered from that look of disappointment earlier that ‘this’ was not what you expected, was it? A lowly invalid, only barely able to maintain a stance. Well, as much as it pains me to be seen in this state, you’d be a fool to cast aside my wisdom so quickly.” A passing grin of displeasure flees across his features, and he continues, waiting not for a reply, “Let me give you a piece of advice, one that you MUST take to heart – never second guess your decisions after you’ve made them. Do so beforehand, to the best of your ability. And never doubt. Because once we exit these caves and go where we will go, you cannot afford to be in doubt. We are in this together, Virgiliu. But as we depend upon one another, we will also be vanquished together...”

  Thanatos rises, moving towards his brother, invading his personal space yet again, dominating their interaction by stealing the moment for a rejoinder and, once again, taking to words. “I say all these things because there’ll be no time to doubt once we are outside these endless caves and far removed from the castle. There, we will have our enemies take your doubts and use them against you and, by extension me. They’ll try and rip us apart. And this early, our thread together is held only by blood. Relationships must be built on more than that, don’t you think?”