Apr. 12th, 2011

nolongerhollow: (Default)

In the next room, stone fixtures eight hundred years old shattered. Dracula had swept back into his Summer Palace in beast form, and immediately locked himself in one of the unfinished rooms and started destroying things. Roars and screams of a particularly anguished tone echoed through the halls as he tried without success to purge himself of horrible, unwelcome emotions.

"Oh, Lady Gothel, it's been terrible," fretted Ambrose, honey-colored hair flopping about his head as he hovered nearby.  "He's been like this since he got home! Please do not go in there. Let him come out when his rage is quenched!"

His request was well intentioned and well placed, for the chaos in that sealed room only continued. The door shook in its frame; the light fixtures swayed.

Finally the terrible noises stopped. Silence ruled.

The door opened.

Dracula stood, a shadow in the doorway, his eyes two points of silver light. "Leave us," he told Ambrose.

"But my lord..."

"Leave us!"

Ambrose gave Gothel one last supportive (longing) look and scurried away.

Dracula looked at her, and slowly stepped out of the doorway. His hair was in disarray, his shoulders dusty and his coat torn.

In a sudden move, he strode across the room, right up to her. Then, unexpectedly, he dropped to his knees. Face twisting with real anguish, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her.


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Count Vladislaus Dracula

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