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“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 draws inspiration from various sources such as fiction, real-life events, history, and more. Continuously updated and refined, it contains a compendium of the World of Vampires, encompassing characters, history, politics, culture, wars, and beyond.
The corruption of the Night awaits, and you are more than welcome to partake in it... or become part of it.
VAMPIRE CHARACTERS
The Brides│Virgiliu Dracula│Mircea Dracula│Erzsébet Báthory│Bruno Ikarov││Petar Blagojević│Lady Eleanor│Kakistos
Robin Harker│Jayden Thornley│Countess Dolingen│Maria Goodwin│Robert Hensworth│Karl Lueger│Max│Lord Ezekiel
Agmundr│Camilla Romanescu│Marie Anette Carlisle│Nicholas Carlisle│Javier Crueza│Pavel Marlow │Andrei Ambrožič│
Mama Elaganza││Deiderich Kraus│Nathaniel Renwick│Jelena Santiago│Bahir Pasha│Caelan│Barnabáš│The Father│
Érebos││Frank the vagabond│Balthazar│Katarina Dufwa││
HUMAN CHARACTERS
Abraham Van Helsing│Jonathan Harker│Mina Harker│Lucy Westenra│Quincey P. Morris│Arthur Holmwood│Dr John Seward
R.M. Renfield│Steiner Leichtenberg│Ralph the taxi driver│Giovanni Agosti│Anderson│Rebecca Harris││Maddox
Romenduz Tavala│Doomsayer│Valeri Dojstov│Abraham Sullivan│David Sullivan│Blair O'Connor│Mother Anna│
Heliga Birgitta│
OTHER CHARACTERS
The Dread Doctors│Zoltan│The Wendigo of Castle Dracula│La bête du Gévaudan│Oliver Harker│Synova│Timothy Holmes│
Anna Darvolya││
LOCATIONS WITHIN THE WORLD - VAMPIRE, HUMAN, OTHER SUPERNATURAL
Castle Dracula│The Carpathian Mountains│The Village│Carfax Abbey│Seward's Sanitarium││
The Tavala Village││The 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 WORLD OF VAMPIRES
The Traditions│The Vampire Hierarchy│The Masquerade│Domains│Prestation│Communication amongst the Undead│
Pax Inmortuae│The War of Ages│Lexicon of the Dead│The Modern Night│The Ancients│The Generation Theory
The Embrace│The Beast Within│Final Death│Blood Bond │Blights│Thrall│Vampire Hunters │Golconda│Hunting Grounds
Humans loyal to Dracula│The Demeter │The Ichor│Foul Rituals and Dark Beginnings│Romanian Treasure│The Blood Feast│
VAMPIRE ORGANISATIONS
The Societas Immortalium│The Sabbat│The Anarch Movement│Malakut│
Children of Caine│The Eye││ │││The Order││
The Night Children││││
THE WORLD OF HUMANS
Humanity and the Supernatural││Vampire Hunters│Faith│True Faith│The Second Inquisition││
HUMAN ORGANISATIONS
The Department of Paranormal Activities│The Holy Order of Saint Michael 'The Inquisition'│The Van Helsing Association│
The Arthur Initiative│The Coalition against Dracula│The Holmwood Family│The Harker Family
The Company of Three│The Church of Father's Glory│ The Hunter Society│The Order of the Dragon│
THE WORLD OF THE SUPERNATURAL
OTHER SUPERNATURAL ORGANISATIONS
The Vampires of the East 'Jiangshi'││
EVENTS IN THE WORLD - VAMPIRE, HUMAN, AND OTHER SUPERNATURAL
Concordia Immortalium│Failed London Takeover│The Blood Feud
Dracula's absence │The hunt for the Heartstone
OBJECTS -VAMPIRE, HUMAN, AND OTHER SUPERNATURAL
The sword of Dracul│Dragon key│The Dracul family ring│De Dödas Huvudbonad (Crown of the Dead)│
Quincey's kukri knife│Staff of Ra│Heart Stone│Mysterious box│Seal of Dracul│Bram Stoker's Dracula novel│ │
│Love letter to Timothy│Robin's gun│Malum Praesidium││
MISCELLANEOUS LORE
Comments
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.
“Sounds like you’re planning an assassination attempt or something.” The retired warrior was careful not to be loud with his response, and his guess was an accurate one at best. Both silvery hues were slightly narrowed with some visible concern, given what he was asking. But Abraham did listen and kept quiet to let his savior speak.
A long, audible exhale parted from his lips once the proposal was made, which- gave him some extremely mixed feelings, rightfully so, especially since they were doing this behind Gleeon’s back. He gazed at the grass beneath their feet, contemplating how he should respond, or if accepting this job offer was even a good idea. Must’ve been something extremely high risk with the reward Robin was offering.
“What’s the mission? And who's your target? They way you worded it makes me think you’re going after somebody. If it’s the fuckers that shot at us earlier, then maybe…” His new associate asked, somewhat open to the idea of getting payback since they nearly blew out his brains earlier and dragged him into vampire politics. Seconds later, the thought hit him; He needed to know about what made this such a dangerous operation.
“What kind of enemy? Something strong I’d assume if you’re worried about them smelling Gleeon from a mile away.”
Perhaps tempting him with a chance of revenge would be the best way to convince him, or reminding Abe that he was a potential target due to being a witness earlier, and unaliving a Vampire Hunter.
Here's to hoping that it wasn't too deep, but it was– and with each subtle move, that gaping wound made itself apparent.
While the reaction came slow, David could feel the rising panic. Perhaps it was unnecessary, he was in a lair of vampires, to begin with. And yet none of that showed on his face, bleary eyes darting about quizzically for any proper resource that he could use. The trusty winter coat that he could easily offer to anyone was gone and this place's need for any resource for emergencies was next to none. His gaze finally fell upon his sleeves. Garments drenched in both ice water and blood, the only thing pliable enough that he could use that wasn't laden with dust or grime. Just when he was about to move to rip them apart, the young man was already scrambling up on his feet at the command. From the looks of it, David would have glanced at Robin incredulously if he was any more sober than this deplorable state he was in. He wasn't. All he could truly do at that point was helplessly look on, any form of protest locked upon his throat like a chokehold.
"Please, be careful–"
A century later and he was still beseeching these young, reckless folk to be careful. Some things truly never change. David wasn’t certain if he was even heard at all, and that in itself was never new. The boy was gone, swallowed by the frigid night outside with his departure punctuated by the slam of doors. This left the sorcerer wringing his sleeves, his face wrought in defeated concern, and this only eased away as soon as the vampire approached. “He’s… he's not taken away.” Jade eyes were distant, almost confused, pinned to the pool of sanguine that luridly stained the floor. Whatever those cryptic words meant, it seemed like the mortal was trying to carefully convince himself more than anyone else. That heavy-lidded stare finally fluttered over to the Englishman, and his expression softened as he listened to his plight. “You must have chosen him for a reason that you found fit. It’s never easy, but it’s not too late. Please don’t cast it all aside.”
There was the slightest hint of lucidity in that statement, from the plea of a man who perhaps, made countless mistakes and hopefully repented. Alas, that clarity wasn't there to stay, judging from the way his expression shifted. He stared at the hand that was offered, gilded by the livid, gruesome reminder of his shame. A hard swallow quickly followed that. What would he give up to be the one to slowly lap up all that blood from his fingers, to feel the icy touch of his skin within the feverish warmth of his mouth? He could memorize a piece of him right then and there, have his lips do all the talking where words could never reach. At that delirious moment, all he ever wanted was to slowly run his tongue on every inch, to consume the taste of iron that he detested so long ago...
All the regret, all the anguish and torment– maybe he could wash it all away from him, and all he had to do was lean close–
David blinked, drawing in a sharp breath. Momentarily shaken off from the debauched trance with goosebumps prickling all over his flesh, a shiver running through his spine, that was the only time Robin's words dawned upon him, gradually making the slightest bit of sense. From lecherous depths that he was trying to painstakingly crawl his way out of, he found that there was no hatred, no revulsion, or fear– only the sole thought of yielding servitude from a leashed mongrel vying for its master’s affection. Still down on his knees, the sorcerer finally reached out, and a servile kiss was placed upon the vampire’s ghostly wrist. “You know I would do anything for you but that…" His voice was hoarse, the depth of his gaze upon him mirroring the desperation that laced it. With his cold hand in his grasp, he pressed his cheek against it, feeling the smear of the slick fluid upon his pale face. “You’ve kept me safe, and for all the night’s distress, I am the only one to blame. No, no– to hate you is too much of a request to ask, Mr Harker, I’ll be damned."
His train of thought came in shambles, his attention easily drawn and derailed by every single stimulus that sharper senses can now perceive. If not for the fact that he was in someone else's arms, the power that he radiated made him feel like he could take on this entire forest in all its glacial wilderness alone or that damned fiend in the caverns. Despite all this, only one thought was clear– David knew he would kill and he would happily die for this man that took him, salvation and sanctuary personified.
The sorcerer spoke of things he'd never say out loud with a clear, dignified mind. Promised worlds of things he'd never dare whisper if he was thinking with his head – not with this disaster of a heart that was oh so besotted, brimming with irrepressible devotion. How wonderful it was, to be swept up by a saint. How grand, to be in the presence of someone so, so beautiful.
Oh– how embarrassing.
His sense of shame has vacated him entirely, however. Just like his dignity that night, just like the rest of proper sense and judgment, or his finicky attention that fluttered in and out. Poor Robin Harker, as if hauling a man away from death's jaws wasn't enough. This one was zealously drunk in sheer ecstasy from the first few moments of ingesting the vampire's blood.
Moments like these could truly make the appearance of Castle Dracula a proper respite… or not.
. . .
He could feel it now, akin to a hound sensing its owner's growing agitation before the strike. The rapid swell of unpleasant warmth, escalated at each stride. How even, he wasn't certain anymore, perhaps that temporary bond was to blame. Dilated pupils homed upon the glint of a blade that struck the snow, and yet he can barely make sense of it. There was yelling, swearing, the loud screech of the doors nearly flying off their hinges, and David was already scrambling for a decent hold, not wanting to leave a master's embrace just yet as he caught the sight of a silhouette just ahead.
“Mr Harker.”
"Mr Harker, please–"
There was a low yelp of pain as soon as he hit the cold stone floor. Surprisingly, that didn't hurt as much as he expected. It all happened too fast, however, and by the time he was pulling himself up to his feet, the damage was already done. He could hear someone whimpering in pain, and at the bottom of the steps was a figure of a young man cowering on the floor. That can't be right, he thought. There was blood everywhere. Again.
Again.
Can an evening just pass without anyone getting disembowelled or bleeding dry?
David was deathly quiet, allowing whatever proper ray of thought to sink in a head so muddled. He was a sorcerer before he was a doctor, that, he knew well. A doctor before a slave, he vaguely remembered. For a sobering moment, he glanced at Robin and the scarlet upon his hands, slightly shaking his head. Whether there was a trace of disbelief on that face, that didn't matter– with eyebrows furrowed, the young man was off, making his descent on the staircase. To help or investigate or both, without proper orders at least at this point he wasn't off to recklessly wander.
He wasn't in the best shape himself– injured and garbed in tatters, soaked to the bone with melting ice. At least he was standing, and the cold seemed… nonexistent. David seemed to be utterly dazed, trying to put two and two together, one could almost perceive the gears turning in his head. But that didn't stop him from getting down on one knee to inspect, and he looked quite worried. Mortified, even. "I'm so sorry about that," he whispered. On behalf of a vampire who he believed never meant it, the infatuated parts of him protesting, for a saint can never do any wrong. Even before he could stop himself, he was already gently helping the boy up, seating him down on the foot of the stairs. "Here’s to hoping that it’s not too deep, but we need to get that cleaned up. Would you let me have a look?"
“While I wasn’t there to ever see it, I can vouch for him if you’re having doubts, even my adopted mom was around when Abe served.” Foreseeing the likelihood of either Robin or Ralph questioning it, he gave some assurance about his story being genuine, as difficult as it’d be for one to believe. Why was it not included in any known history book?
“Okay?” There was a visible expression of confusion plastered across the veteran’s face upon Ralph initiating his private conversation, which made him raise a brow. While they chatted about their next course of action out of earshot, said brunette turned back to his Warlock of a friend. “They probably think we’re crazy or had a few too many Budweisers.”
“Don’t start assuming things, the tank is already proof. Your friend looked like he wanted to sink his fangs into something, I’d be really careful.” The Aeromancer quietly warned him, having picked up on Robin’s prior expressions and mannerisms previously. Rightfully so, he felt somewhat concerned about his presence, and whether or not it’d pose a safety risk. Perhaps they should let him feed first before hanging out after this meeting, or activity really.
Who knows what other beings were lurking in that house since the man had a group of literal monsters living with him.
Upon hearing Robin’s request, Abraham perked up and agreed. “Sure thing.”
Stepping closer to the vampiric man, Gleeon simply moved away to put an adequate amount of distance between him in the two, leaving room for Ralph to join him if he wished. Once out of earshot, the mortal of a male turned to face Robin again, speaking in a lower tone.
“Well, whatcha need? A little surprised you want to exclude the boss man.” He would ask casually, itching to hear what his newfound acquaintance had to say.
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.
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.
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