😈 - @embersrevived (*scooby doo voice* ruh roh)
Send 😈 to meet a dark/evil version of my muse.
(( I tried writing this the last I was here, in March. But I didn't have enough to go with whatever idea I had. So this is new. ))
The climb up here to a peak inside a castle that should not be must have been exhausting. Way up at the highest point where the throne room looms over all, where all reality and sound just seems to be missing, lost. Time stopped too, considering that it should be sunrise very soon. Yet the big yellow moon outside, tucked away behind the old clock tower - meticulously guarded by the familiar cloaked reaper - watches the young lady arrive.
Her and these two unmoving entities are the only ones who will witness a new era, but only she will be soon long for the afterlife. At least that is the plan for the one sitting on the throne, leg crossed over the other and his head resting on his knuckles. The surprising son of Dracula has taken his place, his status being a former rebel as there are no traces of Belmont, Danasty nor Belnades are nearby, and perhaps hopefully never will, should the night go her way.
But that is just that: hope.
There will be none of that here.
He, the new King of Vampires, exhales slowly, the chilling air around him making his hot breath visible briefly. Pale curls about his face sway as he shakes his head, sliding into a more properly seated position. His attire has not changed much, just that there is a severe lack of his mother's heirloom sword or any holy items, his gloves missing to reveal long, glassy nails, eyes blood red and skin robbed of any life it once had. It is even down to the lovely trim in his clothing having been remembered as gold has now been turned a shade of crimson, much like the only red on his cheeks, the last tears he would ever shed.
Alucard is a much more splitting image of his father now, complete with that look in his eye that spelled death before the doors to the chambers slam shut behind his friend. Formerly. Wither that is a cry from the inside of the last glimmer of what he was born as dying, or for the inevitable slaying of this sorceress, it is an unspoken guess.
Yet, something about him is reluctant regardless. Just as his words almost were forced, like he was thinking about what to say too harshly and it coming out wooden, as cold as the atmosphere and the polished stone under their feet.
"You are a fool to come here, knowing you will never leave."
It was a barely-there threat, but one nonetheless that matched nothing of his lethargic actions. There is still a part of that old self left, yet by what he adds seconds later, it is but fragments. Too little to piece together the humanity he had lost.
"Do not bother. I am not the man who you - or he - once knew. Thrown away in exchange of power, like his father before him." Alucard, or this creature who masqueraded around with his face, stares through Nadir with those eyes, narrow pupils nothing but slivers.
"At least, when you die, you no longer have to worry about betrayal. I can live with knowing just exactly what I have done. But only the man you knew before would have been furious and heartbroken at that fact."
"But I... feel nothing."
