Emperor of the Dark

My name is of no importance. What IS important is the matter of how you got here, young one. Oh, but don't be afraid, I'm a simple shadow under the bed, a spirit in the closet, a quiet stain on the pages of history. I mean you no harm. [sideblog to captainsnakepants]

[monstrumsanguis]

dxspereaux‌:

monstrumsanguis‌:

The young man recoils from the barrage of shrieking, which he’d fully been expecting, and shakes himself out after a moment, patiently standing by as he watches them clamber over themselves in fear and alarm, hands clasped neatly in front of him, thumbs pressed together. 

“Gentlemen,” he purrs, amusingly even-keeled even as Donny and Lazaro fumble uselessly about like schoolyard children, “Donny? The big one, then. I don’t mean you any harm. But, seeing as you’re clearly trespassing, I think that calls for affirmative action, don’t you?” 

He’s making himself out to be as intimidating as possible, while still remaining calm and amicable, his smile closed-lipped, but tight. The suspense and the quiet are heavy, like a soaked blanket, for entirely too long…

“Can I treat you boys to tea?”

They both go quiet as the man speaks, Lázaro staring with his usual narrowed gaze. Donny also stares before starting to scream again, to which Lázaro replies with unceremoniously dumping him on the ground. “I’m sorry but you screamed in my ear, man– Uh, hello? Um, we didn’t actually…” Lázaro begins to vaguely gesture around the manor. “Think anyone lived here. We thought it was abandoned.”

Donny looked between the stranger and Lázaro during the moment of silence, quietly watching Lázaro stand his ground. Donny just didn’t care for spooky things, even in movies! To be startled in real life was so much worse than he could have imagined. 

The offer of tea makes them sigh softly in relief. “Yeah, uh, tea would be nice, Mister…Dude. I think my, uh, my associate here may need some calming down…”

The man chuckles, a gentle twitter in his throat, eyes shutting upward in a smile as he clasps his hands together in a friendly manner, smiling softly. 

His eyes open again, and they’re just a little bit disquietingly wide, lips parting to just barely show perfect, brilliantly pearly teeth. “For a given definition of living,” he purrs, sauntering off to the kitchen to put the kettle on. “You can make yourselves comfortable while I get the stove going, do you have any preferences?”

I hope you know what you’re doing. 

You’ll see.

[monstrumsanguis]

dxspereaux‌:

Of course, the scene is very dramatic and eerie and had this been directed by Francis Ford Coppola, the two men would have stared on in silent horror and shock, taking in his ghostly appearance and dramatic entrance. But life is, thankfully, not directed in such a manner and thus their reactions are quick, emotional, and rather embarrassing for anyone looking on. 

The two barely even get a good look at their hosts or even heed his words but just seeing wispy figures in a supposed abandoned home causes them both the inhale, and start screaming. Screaming loudly. Lázaro, at least, seems frozen in place as he does so but Donny instinctively goes into flight mode and is somehow managing to climb into his friend’s arms as if Lázaro could potentially carry him in any situation– for some reason, he manages to hold up the boxer but it may just be due to the sudden rush of adrenaline.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA— Wait, wait, it’s a guy–” Lázaro eventually mutters out, voice barely audible beneath Donny’s high-pitched screaming (and crying). “Dude– DUDE, it’s just a guy!” The rush of adrenaline wanes and now Lázaro’s struggling to hold up Donny. “Donny– Don– I’m beggin’ you, get off–”

The young man recoils from the barrage of shrieking, which he’d fully been expecting, and shakes himself out after a moment, patiently standing by as he watches them clamber over themselves in fear and alarm, hands clasped neatly in front of him, thumbs pressed together. 

“Gentlemen,” he purrs, amusingly even-keeled even as Donny and Lazaro fumble uselessly about like schoolyard children, “Donny? The big one, then. I don’t mean you any harm. But, seeing as you’re clearly trespassing, I think that calls for affirmative action, don’t you?” 

He’s making himself out to be as intimidating as possible, while still remaining calm and amicable, his smile closed-lipped, but tight. The suspense and the quiet are heavy, like a soaked blanket, for entirely too long...

“Can I treat you boys to tea?”

[monstrumsanguis]

dxspereaux‌:

While the mention of Ghostbuster’s stays in both their heads, it’s clear only Lázaro is getting the most out of the reference. He’s silently thinking about the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, quietly chuckling to himself– he knows that thing wouldn’t stand a chance against him. He’d just eat it. The low creaking makes them both flinch– Lázaro immediately assuring Donny that, “It’s just an old house. They creak a lot, chill.”

Donny, on the other hand, is quietly murmuring, “I’m Stantz. I’m Stantz.” to himself in a poor attempt to rebuild his confidence. In the ring, Donny was a literal beast; he wasn’t afraid of anything or anybody. But the ring was…well lit and certainly not haunted and definitely didn’t have mist– shit, why is there mist? They’re indoors!? “Láz– we gotta go.”

“What? Nuh uh man. The bet said thirty minutes and we’ve been in here–” He checks his wrist where there isn’t actually a watch.” Like…four minutes. Tops. C’mon, you can stick it out for a lil’ longer.”

K-T’UNK.

The unmistakable slam of wood against wood, hollow, suggesting the closing of some form of wooden container. The younger now takes a corporeal form, and walks towards the two, the pronounced klak, klak, klak of hard-rubber heels hitting old oak floors producing a barely-there reverb around the ghoulishly empty home. 

He’d decided now was the time to stop playing games. 

Oh, is that all?

I like them. I’m going to see what they’re about.

When he breaks the dying light, he almost looks an apparition, pale as death, with gracefully unkempt, wavy, silver locks. They reach about the middle of his chest, which is covered by a similarly stylish, if somewhat dated, crushed-velvet overcoat and a red, ruffly cravat. His eyes are an icy platinum-blue, making the pinpricks of his pupils that much more intense against his pearl-white sclerae. 

Beautifully long lashes frame these unearthly eyes, giving him an odd air of coexisting dignity and innocence. Taking away from that, though, is the hard-to-see but certainly present stubble on his narrow, squared jaw. Darker scars litter his face, and likely elsewhere as yet unseen, one splitting his thin lips on the right side of his face, matched by a line of scarring that halves his eyebrow on the same side. 

And, above all, he gives off a slight, but bearable, aura of danger. 

“Gentlemen,” he greets, his voice breathy and with the lightest of Highland lilts, “I couldn’t help but be awoken by you both kicking up an awfully loud fuss. May I help you?”

[monstrumsanguis]

dxspereaux‌:

“See? It’s not scary…just, like, old and decrepit.” Lázaro comments once they’ve stepped inside fully, the bit of light from outside seeping in and revealing…not much. Faded walls and outdated furniture. Cobwebs and an eerie mist that. It’s very much like the stereotypical haunted house and that familiarity is enough for Lázaro to blindly trust it. 

Donny, however, also feels the general horror movie vibe and immediately regrets his decision. It was all because of his big mouth too; Donny was always the one bragging that he wasn’t afraid of anything…except, you know, clowns…zombies….demons…ghosts…mice. “That’s not helpin’, man.”

And, as if to punctuate his fear, the lights flicker wildly. For a moment, the two of them stare with wide eyes at the lights that they were both sure shouldn’t be working, eyes darting between fixtures and each other’s gaze. When it finally stops does the reaction actually reach it’s climax: Donny squeals loudly, only to have Lázaro shove him. “Keep it together, man!”

“That’s some Exorcist shit– I ain’t stayin’ in here–”

Lázaro rubs at his temples. He sort of wished his wife were here, she wouldn’t be afraid of socking Donny right in the gut for being a wimp. And then she’d try and beat up the ghost. “Listen, Donny, it’s an old house. Electric’s all messed up I bet. Think logically. The very worst scenario is we got a Ghostbuster’s situation goin’ on and that lil’ green dude? He wasn’t so scary, huh?”

Donny’s breathing hard and his bottom lip is trembling but he eventually shakes his head.

“Good. You just calm down, okay? Ain’t nothin’ to be scared of until we actually see like…a lil’ girl who’s head spins or someone doin’ the crab walk, okay? Just…chill. You’re Stantz, I’m Venkman. Okay?”

The younger of the two can’t help but be amused at the predictably frightened reaction out of them both, the bigger of the humans more animated than the smaller. Ghostbusters? He’d heard about that. Actually bothered to watch the movie, and took some inspiration from it. In fact, he’d watched quite a few human horror movies to get a feel for what they thought was scary. 

Quite a lot, as it so happened. 

The lights flicker again, shorter, this time, buzzing and shuddering in vague light before shutting off again. While they’re distracted, the younger whisks away into his coffin, as clichéd as that is, and makes sure the creak of the hinges is loud enough for them to hear.

You delight terribly in frightening the mortals.

So do you, old man.

Yes, but I have a more subtle and refined art in it.

And I have the power of pop culture. We make a great team.

...Do as you please.

Sighing, the senior of the pair mists as well, gliding to infiltrate the rays of the dying light of the sun coming in through the window, accentuating the corpse-like atmosphere of the manor. 

Just be sure they don’t have stakes.

They’re not expecting undead, they’re expecting ghosts.

[monstrumsanguis]

vampireoffolsense‌:

monstrumsanguis‌:

“Every few days? My, you are young. So high-energy.” He’s ponderous, still with that smile. He’s trying to not be threatening, but it’s difficult when it’s in his nature to be. “This Nigel…perhaps I should speak to him. He seems to be well about his wits, but, no, I can’t blame you for staying in your comfort zone. You’ll find a better pacing with time.”

This hunger demon, though, perhaps that’s why Anton is so…the way he is. Every few days with the feeding, a smell lingering on him that whet the Krsnik’s appetite with a new edge that he hasn’t felt in a while. Not to mention this vampire has a beating heart. That’s new. A beating heart, lively eyes…he is the perfect mix of alive and undead. “Ah, the perfect partnership, if a tad clumsy and sedentary.” 

Thankfully, he pulls back, having gotten the closer look he wanted, even with Anton backing away. “Sorry,” he starts, genuinely apologetic, “I don’t mean to frighten you. I’m something of a monster in the closet, you see. I don’t stray from my manor all too often; my social skills have suffered for it. Do pardon me, I’m simply curious about you, and I occasionally fail to recognize that unfamiliar people may not care for my encroachment.

“But, how I had you was a simple, young vampire. The whiff that lingers on you stirs something in myself that leads me to believe that you are more than what I can glean. I’d like to get to know you a bit better, young Duke. I will take you up on your invitation in the near future. Perhaps speak to this “Nigel” fellow you keep carrying on about.”

“I won’t deny that age probably does have something to do with it.” Anton chuckled, immediately relieved once the other backed away - shifting forwards again now that the Count wasn’t so uncomfortably close. “Seventy-plus may be old for a human, but I’m well aware that it’s nothing for a creature that doesn’t age nor die from.” Well, maybe once one got old enough, but as far as he could tell, a vampire had to be extraordinarily long-lived for age to become a factor in their worries at all.

Yet more things he’d need to ask Nigel about. Did Nigel view him as a child, Anton wondered? How embarrassing.

“I don’t know how the social structure of fae-folk and other supernatural races work, but I can assume that closing in on a person’s space like that is generally considered a faux-pas.” He responded kindly - trying not to make himself sound as irritated as he felt about the intrusion. 

Anton did make a note of it, however. Most people didn’t close in on a predator like that unless they were one themselves - which made him wonder if perhaps his invitation had been unwise.

“I can understand that, though - while not as bad as what you’ve implied, I’ve had to learn how to act… how to word it… Like one of the common humans. Not a noble turned into a vampire - not that I remember being a noble too much.” There was a great stretch of fuzz over his mind that he didn’t bother trying to push at. Not like old memories would help him much in the here and now.

“Oh? Well, Nigel would know more than I do. From what few memories I have, he acted as a servant for my family, and several different families before that.” He still found it odd that despite how Nigel was the older, and therefor likely superior vampire - he still preferred Anton act the master. Perhaps he’d always been a servant and simply felt more comfortable with that role?

“My apologies.” Anton added, giving a slight bow. “Nigel is the vampire that turned me so many years ago. Not that he’ll tell me anything past that he’s the one that did so.” He added quietly, his voice only slightly irritated. Anton had long come to terms with it, honestly. “He knows more than I do by virtue of being so much older, so naturally I go to him for answers.”

“More than likely. I know a good multitude of undead who are still within feasible mortal lifespans,” he muses, “but, yes, again, I apologize for encroaching.” He’s not used to holding extended conversations, and it certainly shows. “It most definitely is a faux pas. Hah. My mistake.” Anton might be onto something with him being a predator himself, though, his eyes are just too sharp and unnatural, his teeth pointed like so many daggers, the way he studies Anton too analytical to simply be paying attention.

“I should spend more time among the mortals, I think. I didn’t gain my nobility until after...well, never mind that. I don’t need to be sharing my life story with a near-stranger. All I’ll tell you is that seventy years are a drop in the bucket for me. Well, maybe a handful in the bucket. I can’t recall. All I do remember is that when I was young, people dressed in far more ruffles.” He chuckles to himself, as though the thought of folks milling about in lace and cravats was humorous, now.

“A servant, you say? Interesting, for a mortal family to have a vampire butler. He must like the little things. He must like you.” Interestingly, he seems to direct that statement more toward himself than Anton, as though thinking aloud. “And he turned you. I’ll have to have words with him at some point. Soon. He fascinates me.”

[monstrumsanguis]

dxspereaux‌:

monstrumsanguis‌:

dxspereaux started following monstrumsanguis - Starter for Donny and Laz

Late afternoon in mid-autumn. 

It’s cold, it’s getting dark, frost clings to the edges of not-yet-fallen leaves in a crust of glitter in the waxing moonlight. A manor sits, asleep, on the outskirts of a town that is much bigger than when the home itself was erected. Around the time of its construction, the town was much farther away, and has spawled out to encroach. 

As far as anyone is concerned, the home has been abandoned and left to weather the elements for itself for years. 

Still, they can’t help but wonder if it’s haunted, what with the fact that more adventurous observers have claimed figures moving in mysteriously lit windows, and an energy they can’t identify.

So, of course, dares to go in naturally followed. Young people would tell peers to go in with the promise of a Permanent Badass Badge if they survived the ordeal.

At this time, no one’s been brave enough.

There’s a moment of quiet as the two stared up at the manor in question, the wind whistling softly around them, scattering the few stray leaves around their feet. Another beat passes before someone finally pipes up. “You should go in first.”

Lázaro abruptly turns to Donny with a sour face. “What the hell you mean? I have kids– you’ve got no one to live for, you should go first.” This assessment earns him a rather hard punch in the arm, which he flinches away from, sadly rubbing his now sore arm. 

“Fuck you, man– I have parents an’ a brother an’, and I’m younger than you! I have a lot to live for!” Donny rebuttals.

“But you’re also the big an’ strong one! If anyone can fight a demon…or a ghost…it’s you!” 

Donny runs his hands down his face, silently swearing to himself that he’ll knock out the rest of their friends for making them do this. “…Alright, we go together…stick real close together and watch each other’s back. Good?” Lázaro’s head bobs but he’s still gently pushing Donny up towards the manor, flicking his flashlight on to navigate the way. “I have a real bad feelin’ ‘bout this…”

Lázaro scoffs. “You cried during The Exorcist, of course you’d have a bad feeling–” He receives yet another punch which he doesn’t completely dodge and ends up letting out a high-pitched yelp. “Maaan…you’re lucky you’re…just fuckin’ massive.”

Donny is the one who opens the door, his hand pressing hard against the wood until it slowly creaked open. 

The squabbling outside isn’t enough to set off any alarms, but someone opening a door and crossing the threshold is. Two black eyes, with silver irises, flutter open, swiveling to the source of the noise, then to the younger creature which occupied the room alongside him. 

“Should I go down and investigate who our guests are?” 

“If you don’t mind.”

Quietly, the younger of the two mists to slip through the boards of the house, manifesting as a harmless, whitish fog that leaks through the floor, witnessing these two bumbling dunderheads stumble their way into the house. The mist wicks down the walls and gathers in gentle pools on the floor, mimicking the condensation of warm air in the house meeting cold air outside, so as not to rouse suspicions.

Two humans. Harmless.

Let them explore. We’ll give them a good scare when they begin to overstay their welcome.

Or when it would amuse you?

Or when it would amuse me, yes. 

Should I start with the poltergeist routine?

If it would please you.

After a few minutes, the lights flutter on, then make a light, but persistent buzzing noise, the illumination unsteady and dim. They then flicker off again, with an unsettling, quiet click. 

Let’s see what they do.

[monstrumsanguis]

dxspereaux started following monstrumsanguis - Starter for Donny and Laz

Late afternoon in mid-autumn. 

It’s cold, it’s getting dark, frost clings to the edges of not-yet-fallen leaves in a crust of glitter in the waxing moonlight. A manor sits, asleep, on the outskirts of a town that is much bigger than when the home itself was erected. Around the time of its construction, the town was much farther away, and has spawled out to encroach. 

As far as anyone is concerned, the home has been abandoned and left to weather the elements for itself for years. 

Still, they can’t help but wonder if it’s haunted, what with the fact that more adventurous observers have claimed figures moving in mysteriously lit windows, and an energy they can’t identify.

So, of course, dares to go in naturally followed. Young people would tell peers to go in with the promise of a Permanent Badass Badge if they survived the ordeal.

At this time, no one’s been brave enough.

[monstrumsanguis]

vampireoffolsense‌:

monstrumsanguis‌:

Jonovan gains a wicked, but well-intended smile as Anton dances around the veritable, if sparse, minefield that is his personality. “You aren’t completely in the wrong for being afraid, young one,” he hums rather cryptically, his lip drawing back in a more toothy smile than the others. His mouth is lined with bright, sharp teeth, and as friendly as the gesture is, something about it is inherently spine-tingling. 

“It’s fine to not trust me. You don’t know me,” he assures, still smiling slightly, “And I barely know you. I could know you, if you’d allow me…” He outstretches one hand, pale with thin skin, fingers tipped with those long, black talons, palm up. Paired with his gentle smirk, it’s not the most trustworthy of gestures, but it’s clear that he’s trying not to impose.

He then, after a few moments, draws his claws back to listen, leaning in. “Oh, naturally. I follow the same logic. Of course, you probably have to feed more often than a few times a month.” 

Anton mentions a demon, and the degree to which Jonovan is invading his space quickly becomes a slight bit overbearing. “A hunger demon? Mmm, that explains it…” He doesn’t dare elaborate, his already-small pupils cutting that slight bit tighter for a moment. “Intriguing. I may have pegged you wrong at first.”

Well, if the man meant to calm him with those words and that manner of response, it in fact did the opposite. Anton was already beginning to regret his invitation, but saw no way to rescind it without potentially angering his strangely intimidating company.

He’d have to think of something later.

“I prefer to know people through words first, before anything else. But thank you for the offer. That said - no. I don’t know you, not at all. Not even your scent - though Nigel might. He’s older than I am, though I know not how much.” Enough that he’d been serving the family for a long time, judging by paintings and photos he’d found. Nigel himself had implied work with multiple families, so a good few hundred years sounded accurate.

“Every few days, at minimum. My desire to keep the public’s panic down, aside; I prefer it that way anyway - having been human once before, it’s hard not to try and keep to that same schedule.” He even had yet to break the habit of eating regular food, even though he didn’t need to. “Can you blame me for sticking to a schedule I’m already comfortable with~?” Nigel didn’t seem to care.

Perhaps it was something that changed with age?

“He would hunt regularly - I would drink the blood of his kills, and he would then eat the body.” Anton continued, eyes narrowing once again at the Count’s sudden closeness. He couldn’t help but lean away, wildly uncomfortable with the invasion of his space. “It was something of a symbiotic partnership. I wouldn’t say it’s harder without him, but it’s certain become quieter.” Mostly in good ways. Good lord but Clive and his girlfriend had been… loud.

“I’m sorry, but can I help you with something?” His tone was the smallest bit clipped, Anton once again tense. If he didn’t feel so endangered, Anton would have snapped for the intrusion of his space. “And how exactly did you ‘have me pegged’ that my choice of roommate over two years ago, changes it?”

“Every few days? My, you are young. So high-energy.” He’s ponderous, still with that smile. He’s trying to not be threatening, but it’s difficult when it’s in his nature to be. “This Nigel...perhaps I should speak to him. He seems to be well about his wits, but, no, I can’t blame you for staying in your comfort zone. You’ll find a better pacing with time.”

This hunger demon, though, perhaps that’s why Anton is so...the way he is. Every few days with the feeding, a smell lingering on him that whet the Krsnik’s appetite with a new edge that he hasn’t felt in a while. Not to mention this vampire has a beating heart. That’s new. A beating heart, lively eyes...he is the perfect mix of alive and undead. “Ah, the perfect partnership, if a tad clumsy and sedentary.” 

Thankfully, he pulls back, having gotten the closer look he wanted, even with Anton backing away. “Sorry,” he starts, genuinely apologetic, “I don’t mean to frighten you. I’m something of a monster in the closet, you see. I don’t stray from my manor all too often; my social skills have suffered for it. Do pardon me, I’m simply curious about you, and I occasionally fail to recognize that unfamiliar people may not care for my encroachment.

“But, how I had you was a simple, young vampire. The whiff that lingers on you stirs something in myself that leads me to believe that you are more than what I can glean. I’d like to get to know you a bit better, young Duke. I will take you up on your invitation in the near future. Perhaps speak to this “Nigel” fellow you keep carrying on about.”

[monstrumsanguis]

vampireoffolsense‌:

monstrumsanguis‌:

Ah, he’s wising up. Almost a shame. Jonovan watches in amusement as Anton reins in his temper, his thin, dry smile never quite leaving his face. It’s always entertaining to watch the younglings realize their mistakes far before the point of danger and rectifying their attitudes in kind. 

“So you’ve said. Marking one’s territory is typically a good way to keep others out of it. Of course, I find myself in the interesting position of those of your ilk typically giving me a rather generous berth. I wonder if it’s my own scent…?” he ponders, his long, ebony claws coming up to rakes through locks that are just as black, his pale skin and irises stark against all of the darkness in his appearance. 

Indeed, his aura is a tad repellent, and while he doesn’t have an overpowering stink about him, he feels almost oppressively like a predator. Good manners and refined speech aside, something about him simply isn’t right. 

“I don’t find myself hunting the living all that often,” he muses, that same, slight smile coming back, “Mostly because I don’t need to feed all that often.” On much stronger vampires’ blood, he could go quite some time comfortably without feeding. The problem was that vampires were wilier prey, as evidenced by this one catching on to the danger the Count presented.

“I have a home, but I thank you. If I ever need sanctuary, I’ll know where to go.”

“If may be so bold-” Anton began, quietly hoping the other didn’t take it as an insult “-your scent may indeed play a part. I’ll admit that I don’t recognize it, but it’s unpleasant, and it screams danger. Perhaps it’s just because I’m ‘young’ by most standards, but whatever you are, your scent makes me hard-pressed to trust you in any capacity.” Honestly Anton found himself relieved that the Count didn’t take the invitation.

While he was sure Nigel could fend for himself, Anton didn’t want to invite potential danger right into his home.

He’d have to ask Nigel about this fellow later, describe the smell and see if the older vampire knew anything - with luck, he was just reacting poorly to a scent he’d never encountered before.

“I hunt quite frequently - though not for a lack of skill. I try not to kill anyone, if I can manage it - the less deaths there are in the area, the less suspicion I raise in the populace.” Meaning he could stay here longer. And if suspicion was raised, he could hunt animals for a while. They were unpleasant and not exactly filling, but they curbed the need to feed.

He’d never say it aloud, though. Probably it would get him a negative reaction.

“Well, if ever you need a place to hide, my home is always open. Provided, of course, you don’t mind the scent of demons clinging to everything. A few years prior I shared the space with something of a hunger demon, and even now his scent clings to the walls.” Did that have an effect on his own scent, he wondered? It’d be interesting if he spread the scent of a demon instead of a vampire…

Jonovan gains a wicked, but well-intended smile as Anton dances around the veritable, if sparse, minefield that is his personality. “You aren’t completely in the wrong for being afraid, young one,” he hums rather cryptically, his lip drawing back in a more toothy smile than the others. His mouth is lined with bright, sharp teeth, and as friendly as the gesture is, something about it is inherently spine-tingling. 

“It’s fine to not trust me. You don’t know me,” he assures, still smiling slightly, “And I barely know you. I could know you, if you’d allow me...” He outstretches one hand, pale with thin skin, fingers tipped with those long, black talons, palm up. Paired with his gentle smirk, it’s not the most trustworthy of gestures, but it’s clear that he’s trying not to impose.

He then, after a few moments, draws his claws back to listen, leaning in. “Oh, naturally. I follow the same logic. Of course, you probably have to feed more often than a few times a month.” 

Anton mentions a demon, and the degree to which Jonovan is invading his space quickly becomes a slight bit overbearing. “A hunger demon? Mmm, that explains it...” He doesn’t dare elaborate, his already-small pupils cutting that slight bit tighter for a moment. “Intriguing. I may have pegged you wrong at first.”

[monstrumsanguis]

vampireoffolsense‌:

monstrumsanguis‌:

Listening to Anton in what one can describe as nonplussed earnest, his thin brow jumps slightly as he mentions thralls, his lips tugging a bit at the corner to give another vaguely entertained smirk. “This is true,” he purrs, his soft, whispered words somehow rolling low, like the gentle scrape of the hem of a dress over flooring. 

And it would appear that he’d angered this young vampire. Their tempers were always so wild and hot! Touting themselves as the apex predators to apex predators, not realizing that they themselves had predators.

Things like him. Things like the Dread Count. Things like the Krsnik.

“I take no offense to that remark. It’s factual, and spoken from a place of ignorance. You’re very young by my standards, and I use it as a term of endearment, rather than to be minimalizing or offensive. I do apologize.” At the remark that he’s in Anton’s territory, the Count seems surprised, and his eyes widen, dark, hollow-looking sclera around platinum-silver irises, shot through with jet-black veins. “Ah, I’m intruding? Your abscence has left its mark, Anton. I didn’t smell your paths and thought this area unperturbed.” 

Oh, this simply wouldn’t do. This young vampire doesn’t trust him at all, which isn’t something he blames him for, but, well…perhaps his overbearing presence as nightmare of nightmares isn’t doing him any favors. 

“Sought you out…? Curiosity.” Hunger. Wasn’t going to let that one slip. “I got a whiff of a new presence, and went out to investigate.” He almost hopes this vampire will keep being disrespectful, just so he has an excuse to eat him, but he’s giving this one the benefit of the doubt for now.

“I’m aware I’m ‘young’, but I’m hardly a child.” Just because he was a comparatively young vampire didn’t mean he was a child - he was an adult that happened to not have been a vampire for very long. 

If Anton didn’t feel such a strong sense of danger from this man he’d tell him off if not outright attack him.

But there was something about the way this man held himself - and not just his implication of royalty - that made Anton… unsettled.

“As I’ve said-” Anton began, pulling himself in and trying to calm down - anger would not help him. Anger rarely helped. “I’ve not been out much in the last two years, so any scents I may have tracked across the city before would have faded. I mean to have at least a slightly more active presence here than before, if only to mark my presence here to any… similar, folk. It wouldn’t be wise to have too many supernatural folk in one area.” Humans would get suspicious. 

Besides; Anton truly did take great pains to make sure he didn’t cause panic - he’d have to move, then, and he liked where he was living.

It’d be too hard to find another place quite as perfect.

“I suppose it is a bit curious to find one of my kind in a city, having seemingly left no scent anywhere. I assure you, I do live here, and I do hunt here. You’re welcome to make a home here as well, provided you don’t cause any panic among the populace.” Be a good host, caution was fine but don’t make an enemy out of him. 

Don’t be an idiot.

Ah, he’s wising up. Almost a shame. Jonovan watches in amusement as Anton reins in his temper, his thin, dry smile never quite leaving his face. It’s always entertaining to watch the younglings realize their mistakes far before the point of danger and rectifying their attitudes in kind. 

“So you’ve said. Marking one’s territory is typically a good way to keep others out of it. Of course, I find myself in the interesting position of those of your ilk typically giving me a rather generous berth. I wonder if it’s my own scent...?” he ponders, his long, ebony claws coming up to rakes through locks that are just as black, his pale skin and irises stark against all of the darkness in his appearance. 

Indeed, his aura is a tad repellent, and while he doesn’t have an overpowering stink about him, he feels almost oppressively like a predator. Good manners and refined speech aside, something about him simply isn’t right. 

“I don’t find myself hunting the living all that often,” he muses, that same, slight smile coming back, “Mostly because I don’t need to feed all that often.” On much stronger vampires’ blood, he could go quite some time comfortably without feeding. The problem was that vampires were wilier prey, as evidenced by this one catching on to the danger the Count presented.

“I have a home, but I thank you. If I ever need sanctuary, I’ll know where to go.”

[monstrumsanguis]

vampireoffolsense‌:

monstrumsanguis‌:

The suspicious squinting is not lost on him, but for the sake of brevity, he elects to ignore it. Being found out is the least of his concerns, and as such, he only offers Anton a curt smile at the thinly veiled display of status that was his declaration of Dukedom.

“Practice?” he murmurs, his tone now curious as well as affable, “How droll. I can see your reasoning, however.”

Is he new? He supposes so. “Why not both? Ah, but if I’m being honest, I took up the mantle of Count to humor the living and play along with their games. Technically speaking, a better title for me would be Your Majesty, but it’s ever so clumsy, more so than simply being a Count or an Earl. Don’t think I didn’t catch that little flaunt, child. You have quite a lot of courage, trying to get one over on me…~”

“It’s been over two years since I’ve properly tested myself - no matter how good one is at something, if they don’t do said thing for so long, they become rusty. Thralls, useful as they are, don’t exactly aid in making sure one stays fit.” He’d mostly used his ‘staff’ - in other words, his thralls - to keep himself in blood, mostly because he’d gotten too… Anton supposed melancholy worked, to hunt properly.

Nigel probably wasn’t going to let him back inside until he had a proper hunt for once. He didn’t blame the man.

…Oh. Damn it - an aesthetic title - Anton huffed, his suspicious look changing to one that was a proper glare - again with the child. This ‘count’ didn’t have to flaunt his age so proudly.

“You may be older than me but I would appreciate if you didn’t call me child. Perhaps you would enjoy if I were to call you old man?” Taking jabs at the Count like this was undoubtedly a bad idea, but he was ruffled now, irritated. “Normally I’d say this is my territory, but your mannerisms tell me that you wouldn’t care. And I’d invite you to dinner, like a good host, but I don’t trust you enough to tell you where I make my home.” Even though Anton had no doubts at all that the Count could simply track his scent back home. “I do wonder, though, if there’s a reason you’ve sought me out. Myself and Nigel have taken great pains not to become known in this city, so you either tracked me by scent, or heard of me some other way… In which case I may begin to suspect my thralls of somehow being planted…”

Listening to Anton in what one can describe as nonplussed earnest, his thin brow jumps slightly as he mentions thralls, his lips tugging a bit at the corner to give another vaguely entertained smirk. “This is true,” he purrs, his soft, whispered words somehow rolling low, like the gentle scrape of the hem of a dress over flooring. 

And it would appear that he’d angered this young vampire. Their tempers were always so wild and hot! Touting themselves as the apex predators to apex predators, not realizing that they themselves had predators.

Things like him. Things like the Dread Count. Things like the Krsnik.

“I take no offense to that remark. It’s factual, and spoken from a place of ignorance. You’re very young by my standards, and I use it as a term of endearment, rather than to be minimalizing or offensive. I do apologize.” At the remark that he’s in Anton’s territory, the Count seems surprised, and his eyes widen, dark, hollow-looking sclera around platinum-silver irises, shot through with jet-black veins. “Ah, I’m intruding? Your abscence has left its mark, Anton. I didn’t smell your paths and thought this area unperturbed.” 

Oh, this simply wouldn’t do. This young vampire doesn’t trust him at all, which isn’t something he blames him for, but, well...perhaps his overbearing presence as nightmare of nightmares isn’t doing him any favors. 

“Sought you out...? Curiosity.” Hunger. Wasn’t going to let that one slip. “I got a whiff of a new presence, and went out to investigate.” He almost hopes this vampire will keep being disrespectful, just so he has an excuse to eat him, but he’s giving this one the benefit of the doubt for now.

[vampireoffolsense]

monstrumsanguis‌:

The smile on the man’s face, one soft and amused, sneaks into being. He smells like one of the undead, to be sure, adjacent to a vampire, but not quite the same. “Can you really fall out of shape if you’re not alive, little one? Well, not in the traditional sense, anyway.” He laughs, and it’s just as soft and wispy as his speech, a flutter of hushed chuckling. 

“The night of the thinning of the veil has passed, but that’s not to say you can’t still go for a good nighttime stroll. I do from time to time. But, I’m being rude. I haven’t introduced myself. I am Count Gyver. Who might you be, child?”

Anton squints at the stranger suspiciously - he doesn’t like this man and he most definitely doesn’t like his smell. It puts him off and makes him want to retreat back home - and he probably would have, if he wasn’t distantly worried he’d be tracked. 

“Perhaps, but even so - if I don’t practice now and again, I become less efficient. And falling out of practice can mean death. Besides, I prefer to take my nighttime strolls on less heavily populated nights anyway ” He danced around exacts, specifics. Clearly the stranger wasn’t human, and clearly he knew Anton wasn’t either, but Anton would sooner let himself be staked than to just give away what he was to some creature he wasn’t familiar with. Who knew how the other would have used it…?

“Duke Anton Herzen, A pleasure to meet you.” Normally he’d specify that he used to be the duke before having to flee the town for his own safety, but there was a petty little part of him that wanted so badly to take at least one shot at this rude stranger. “Are you new to this area, or simply proficient at staying hidden?” There was no way he’d been here this whole time. Not with a scent like that.

[monstrumsanguis]

The suspicious squinting is not lost on him, but for the sake of brevity, he elects to ignore it. Being found out is the least of his concerns, and as such, he only offers Anton a curt smile at the thinly veiled display of status that was his declaration of Dukedom.

"Practice?" he murmurs, his tone now curious as well as affable, "How droll. I can see your reasoning, however."

Is he new? He supposes so. "Why not both? Ah, but if I'm being honest, I took up the mantle of Count to humor the living and play along with their games. Technically speaking, a better title for me would be Your Majesty, but it's ever so clumsy, more so than simply being a Count or an Earl. Don't think I didn't catch that little flaunt, child. You have quite a lot of courage, trying to get one over on me...~"

[monstrumsanguis]

vampireoffolsense‌:

monstrumsanguis‌:

“Perhaps, then…I should make things interesting, child.” 

Which a voice like the rustle of the wind through the rushes certainly might. His tone is barely above a whisper, his accent nigh-indiscernible through his hushed deliberations. “Do you crave activity, or excitement?”

An odd scent. Strange, unfamiliar, and above all - not human. Frustratingly, past that Anton couldn’t tell what it was he was encountering. He hated not knowing these things.

“I think, for now, I just want activity. I’ve been… what’s a word… very quiet, for a while now. I don’t want to begin something that I don’t know if I’m in shape for. Nigel wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, if I did.” Child? Certainly, Anton imagined 70-something wasn’t terribly old for a vampire, but to go so far as to call him a child? How rude.

But - he didn’t want to antagonize until he knew who or what he was dealing with.

The smile on the man’s face, one soft and amused, sneaks into being. He smells like one of the undead, to be sure, adjacent to a vampire, but not quite the same. “Can you really fall out of shape if you’re not alive, little one? Well, not in the traditional sense, anyway.” He laughs, and it’s just as soft and wispy as his speech, a flutter of hushed chuckling. 

“The night of the thinning of the veil has passed, but that’s not to say you can’t still go for a good nighttime stroll. I do from time to time. But, I’m being rude. I haven’t introduced myself. I am Count Gyver. Who might you be, child?”

[monstrumsanguis]

vampireoffolsense‌:

“How long has it been since I showed my face? Too long. I crave activity…”

“Perhaps, then...I should make things interesting, child.” 

Which a voice like the rustle of the wind through the rushes certainly might. His tone is barely above a whisper, his accent nigh-indiscernible through his hushed deliberations. “Do you crave activity, or excitement?”

[monstrumsanguis]

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