2. LAMBING.

[hismasterpiece]

Tonight, just after sundown, there is a ruckus on one of the farms northeast of the village. When the bleating dies down, several dead lambs might be found in one of the enclosures. The ewes paw and nose at the bodies, dumb terror still fresh in their eyes.

Forest animals just have not been cutting it for Drusilla. But the vampire has been too wary to approach the village and feed there -- not without her Family, those who strengthen her. She stalks the journals during the day when she's not sleeping. Two slayers? A vampire hunter? All sorts of overpowered freaks and heroes and demons? She might be mad, but Dru is not stupid enough to attempt any kills in the village. Yet.

As she tears through the last lamb, the vampire laments to herself how much more fun this would be with Spike. And then she convinces herself in a long, drawn-out argument with a curiously red evening star -- which she quickly names Ethelind -- to spy on the sleeping village. Find out where the sweetest victims lay their heads. Her tattered white new-feather sundress, covered only by a black lace shawl, is stained red with lambs' blood. The dress of her porcelain doll, which she is carrying with her, is also stained. Perhaps she can stop at the shop for a new frock, and one for dolly, too.

When she glides through the village, Drusilla will dare to peek into some windows. She cannot enter any homes without an invitation.

[Dru will not be lingering around anyone she has identified as a threat. She is a powerful vampire but far more bold when working with lackeys or her "family" -- Angel, Spike, Darla. IF YOU WANT YOUR CHARACTER TO DIE OR BE INJURED AT THIS TIME JUST TELL ME IN A SUBJECT LINE, otherwise she won't be killing or hurting anyone in this post.]

Comments

[relictusdeus]

[How much Abel understands of the conversation is debatable; he folds his barbed, lean-muscled arms across his chest, glowering.]

We all have our desires. [Isaac drawls huskily, contemplating company and flesh he has longed for.] But how often is it that you get what it is you want?

[bloodwaif]

Only when the slayer stays out of the way. [Again, she is surprisingly direct.] Know you the slayer?

[relictusdeus]

I take it the 'Belmont' clan means little to you.

[That pesky, whip-toting and crucifix-hurling family are a thorn in Dracula's side. As far as he was aware, there were none whom had found themselves here - he'd like to think he could catch a whiff of smug self-righteousness from far away.]

[bloodwaif]

[She ponders; no. No, she has not heard of these Belmonts. Slayers are all little girls where she comes from.]

It means little, but to you it means much. Our slayers are not clannish in that way.

[relictusdeus]

[Under the curse, this Forgemaster would have spat out the name 'Belmont' with no small measure of venom - for after all, while Hector had been the one to betray Lord Dracula, it was Trevor and his companions whom had slain the vampire lord the first time. The castle Isaac had called home had crumbled afterwards, his life - and his sanity - seemingly with it...

That day three years ago, he would never forget.]

If the Belmont were to rise from the dead and set foot upon this soil tomorrow... I assure you, 'twould mean far greater to you than to me.

[Well, at least Isaac thought he had killed Trevor when he had buried a knife deep into his back. A shame that the handsome ones always fought the wrong side...]

[hismasterpiece]

I've killed a slayer before; why do you suppose I could not kill your Belmont?

*fought on the wrong side

[relictusdeus]

There is something to be said of a man who lasts for some time even with a dagger through his heart. He was still breathing, as I recall, when I left him to bleed out.

[Shutting his eyes, he briefly indulges in sadistic fantasies. The imagination is a powerful thing.]

Him and his sort... have been a thorn in Dracula's side. He was very... resilient, I will grant him that. [A deep giggle.] The whip he bears is imbued with magic, especially effective at destroying all who thrive in darkness.

[When battling him, he hadn't been struck by it - - and it was with some measure of curiosity and interest that he contemplated how much it would have hurt.]

[hismasterpiece]

Slayers last as well. The two here in Luceti might take a very long time to die. Wouldn't that be jolly? Like a circus in July, when the sticky candy melts down into the dust. So pretty when it flows out slowly.

[relictusdeus]

[While he does indulge sadistic fantasies, he has not acted upon them upon his return to Luceti nor did he have as strong a desire to do so as before. But with a bitter enemy - or a lover, if he were ever so fortunate - his darker interests would surely surface.]

'twould be most unfortunate if things did not turn out quite as you have hoped.

[hismasterpiece]

I survive. I am more like the tortoise than the butterfly, good sir.

[relictusdeus]

[He scoffs more at 'good sir' than anything else.]

Suppose someone should flip you onto your back...

[Paddling his index and middle fingers to suggest the flapping of wings, he sweeps his hand up and to the side.]

Terribly weak as it is, a butterfly has at least a better chance at escape... if need be. [Never a bad idea.]

[hismasterpiece]

We shall see about that, my fair gentleman. We shall see. Good evening to you.

Thanks for the thread. <:3

[relictusdeus]

[Him, a gentleman? That succubus had said he was so savage... No answer. He simply sees her off with a smile and gazes thoughtfully into the darkness.]