#cursevist

[thenetherese]

@cursevist ⸺ cont. from here.

Gale had foolishly mixed the compounds together at the wrong measurements, only off by the slightest of margins, but big enough to make the alchemical mixture backfire quite literally in his face. He cursed under his breath, less at his newfound injury and more so his failings. As soon as he raised his arm to inspect the glass embedded in his now-trembling arm, Dracula had come to him and began to take over the situation as Gale could have predicted. He allowed the attention knowing it came from a place of concern for him, fighting the instinctive desire to pull away and handle it himself for no other reason than he had foolishly done it to himself, and that Dracula shouldn’t have to fix his mistake.

He watched the process curiously nonetheless, eyes fixated and dancing along each new movement and item newly acquired. The summoning of the bat was an amusing sight, Gale fighting the subtle smile that crept up and tugged at his lips as he watched the little thing obey Dracula’s orders. Gale couldn’t quite identify the flower brought over beyond knowing it was medicinal, its specific pattern and color reminding him only that it was a numbing agent, the name lost on him. Relief soothed over tense shoulders and his trembling hands the moment he felt the numbness settle through his aching arm. 

The numbness wasn’t the only thing that settled in him, he quickly noted. A subtle furrow of his brow that would likely be taken as a sign of discomfort found purchase on his features, but truthfully was one born of confusion. A strange heat assailed his head, dancing down and into his chest slowly as Dracula worked. It took Gale a moment, but he quickly remembered what the plant in question was; acmella oleracae, both a numbing agent and aphrodisiac. His breath hitched slightly.

Dracula had turned away then to fetch thread and a needle, to which Gale would bring his hand forward to grip at his forearm, hoping to aid in keeping the wound closed. Once Dracula returned to him, he released his grip to allow the man to continue his work. The way Dracula leans in, taking in Gale’s scent, shoots lightning down the wizard’s spine. There is a hunger there, he realizes — and it's absolutely intoxicating. It dawns on him that it had been some time since he’s seen Dracula feed, and Gale wonders just how ravenous the man might be.

Gale is preoccupied with his own thoughts as he stands there in a haze, watching Dracula work. He wonders what the vampire’s mouth would look like, feel like, desperate for his bloodied fingers to explore and let him have a taste. How would a man such as Dracula feel, pliant under the touch of a mortal man, acquiescing to a divine hunger? Gale feels an impossible heat pull taut like a string in his core, forcing himself to grit his teeth lest the aphrodisiac truly claims him. He knows he wouldn’t normally think such obscene thoughts — or perhaps he simply never allowed himself to.

The stitching process ends shortly thereafter, and as soon as Dracula draws away Gale’s hand descends upon his freshly-mended wound once more, wiping excess blood away though with little success, smearing it. His eyes watch for Dracula’s reaction, gauging his body language and where the vampire’s eyes linger for just a little too long. The string in Gale’s core snapped.

He closes the distance, dangling bloodied fingers before the vampire as to coax him forward. When Dracula obliges, Gale lets out a heady sigh, intoxicated in the sight of the man desperately tasting him. The shaky hand on Dracula’s thigh grips at the flesh beneath his clothes. Gale doesn’t move his fingers so as to not cause harm, letting Dracula’s tongue and lips do all the work until satisfied, despite desperately wanting to explore the expanse of the vampire’s tongue and throat with more than just his hands. He wonders what he tastes like with the chaos beating in his blood.

Gale lets out a low, sweet chuckle as he draws away, relishing in the way Dracula’s tongue seeks his hand even then. He practically doesn’t register what Dracula says, all heady with the aphrodisiac he is happily letting himself fall into. “I’ll take my chances,” he smirks, voice soft as he leans closer, slotting his knees between Dracula’s legs and willing them to spread further apart, allowing him to stand in the middle. As he moves, Gale darts two spit-slicked fingers into his own mouth, meeting Dracula’s gaze all the while. He removes his fingers from his mouth after a short moment, Gale’s free hand moves to grasp at the vampire’s shoulder, guiding him back just a bit before trailing up to dance his thumb across his lower lip, willing them to part. 

“I would let you have another taste,” Gale leans closer, briefly glancing at his fresh wound for emphasis, “you need only ask.”

[finalsorrow]

oh yeah its all coming together

[mtchstck-archive]

cursevist replied to your post “��”

that is a SLEEP not a nap!!!!

[thenetherese]

cv starter. ⸺ for @cursevist.

Throughout his travels across Wallachia, Gale has ran into wall after wall, finding little in the ways of a revelation or even a grain of new knowledge when it came to the orb that's entwined itself within his very essence. He's found the occasional tome hidden deep within ruins or forgotten places that talk about the dark arts, chaos, demons, but they were things he already knew. His efforts felt fruitless, all in vain — the months and months of struggle and pain and suffering all pointless, like a cruel joke that the gods thrust upon him for their entertainment. Poor Gale, the gods cried, how far you have fallen due to your hubris.

You will never amount to anything. You will die, alone; forgotten. He would never measure up to Mystra.

He grits his teeth, knuckles white from the force of his grip on the cover of the latest book he's found, the information wanting. Gale let the book clatter to the floor, calloused hands running through his hair as he paced around the room. With a huff, he storms out of the delapidated building, and began walking down the dirt path toward a small village not far away.

Gale attempts to soothe his nerves through a few drinks at the local inn, keeping to himself. He listens absentmindedly to the various conversations he manages to pick up around the room, before a particular topic catches his ears, causing him to pay more attention.

"...a castle, not too far north," "...out of nowhere, as if it were magic."

He caught himself leaning towards the small group of locals trying to hear them better, forcing himself to press his back flush against his chair as to not rouse attention. From the bits and pieces he could hear, Gale had already begun ruminating on just what kind of place it was that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He stopped short the moment he heard a specific name, however; "Dracula," had fell from one of the local's lips, a certain tremble caught in their cadence. Gale felt a mixture of dread and revelation flood him in that moment. Could this be the opportunity he had been searching for?

There was notable trepidation swirling through him, the infamous legend of Dracula not lost on him. The formidable being was skilled, possessed knowledge that would get him crucified as a mortal man, but has committed acts so horrific Gale couldn't fathom them if he witnessed them. And this knowledge was fairly common regarding Dracula — making Gale wonder just how it all measured up to the truth of the legend in flesh, versus word of mouth. Despite the anxiety that gripped him, he steeled himself. If he could actually find and approach Dracula's castle, he might have a chance at acquiring a solution for his problem. Everywhere Gale has searched has led to mundane places and mundane books — but this had merit, and it came with risks. Not that he had much to lose if it didn't work out, he supposed. Gale would much rather consign himself to death than to a life of pain and misery.

Finally decided, Gale was quick to leave the tavern, paying off his tab and collecting his things to prep for the journey north.

In the span of a few days, he made it far enough to see the castle in question off in the horizon — its size and exterior intimidating even from this distance, and yet it was a sight to behold. Despite what Gale knew to be within, he couldn't help but admire the technological marvel that the castle was. The scholar in him wanted nothing more than to explore its winding halls and the books he only imagined contained within. Excitement now palpable underneath his skin, Gale continued his journey.

The original distance from which he observed the castle didn't prepare him for what he saw mere miles away — lines and lines of impaled corpses of various aging, placed as some kind of warning he could only assume. As he approached, he could make out strange silhouettes both at ground level patrolling and high in the sky encircling the castle. It was in this moment that the gravity of the situation was fully setting in; just how dangerous this was. Gale went through possible solutions to the creatures that patrolled the doors, adamant about getting to the entrance. Though he wasn't sure if confronting the creatures was the best course of action — to come this far and die unceremoniously sounded pathetic. No, he would not stop here.

Gale began his plan, shifting into a cat and maneuvering through the trail of impaled corpses and slipping past a decent amount of the creatures that guarded the exterior of the castle. Thankfully there was a significant amount of distance between the patrol he had snuck past and the remaining one that clung to the front door. Begrudgingly, he would shift back into his human form behind the creature, and with a quick flurry of spellwork, silenced the beast with magical binds. He was intending to be a guest, so it wouldn't do good to kill anything that called this place home.

Turning on his heel, Gale made his way up the numerous steps that led to the grand entrance — which the climb up the stairs proved a bigger challenge than the creature prior. By the time he reached the top, he had to take a moment to catch his breath, knees and ankles aching slightly. Once finally at the doors, Gale took a moment, nerves coiling in his belly in anticipation.

He knocks on the door.

[thxwxlf]

his smallest humanoid form is 6 ft 9..

SEND ME YOUR MUSE’S HEIGHT, AND I’LL COMPARE IT TO MY OWN’S!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HIS SMALLEST?

[soulmissed]

@cursevist: ‘ please open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and say, ah. ’ doctor dracs to the rescue..

memes, accepting

illness and childhood tenacity could be an inflammatory combination. a boy like himself – scrappy with survival, underweight from dietary imbalance, susceptible to colds – was certain to march that bullheaded turf.

(august, however, does as asked. hands upon blue jean knees, he sticks out his tongue.) wondering distantly and nebulously how much the doctor’s examination would uncover.

“ what’s your diagnosis? ” blurbs forth in an awkward ribbit.

[feretra]

the wolf that lopes into salome's field of view is massive, but familiar; it carries itself the same, regal and threatening, it's red gaze boring into her for only a moment. it snorts a distressed, distinctly doggish sound, and crooks its neck to gesture with its head at a following adolescent wolf. if she can understand him, she will hear his voice, clear and gentle, but as if from everywhere and nowhere at once: do something about this, would you? it believes i am its mother.

It looks more like a hellhound than a wolf, at first; that dark and vermillion-eyed beast breaking through the horizon and casting apprehension into Salome’s bones. Even now instinct comes in the form of a minute flutter in the fingers trained for shooting. Begging her – as a shepherdess foremost – to draw an arrow from the quiver at her hip and take aim at a predator.

Just as that decision fully solidifies in her mind, it is driven out by a familiar voice. One that, despite itself, cannot help but feel distressed around its edges.

Though, sure enough, what he says rings true enough when a small, scrappy thing stumbles into view behind this ever strange acquaintance of hers.

“Y'are very lucky. I was about t’shoot you,” Salome remarks, pitching her voice to carry the distance between them. She contemplates that she would still have good reason, him having brought a predator – young or otherwise – directly to her farmstead. Instead, she chooses a kulning less sharp, hopefully more intriguing than distressing to the young animal, and then begins the process of unburdening herself of the headscarf wrapped about her head. The pins her fingers pry free from her thick locks being pushed into the worn wood of a nearby fence post

And, once the pup draws close enough, hands wrap taut in the patterned wool and Salome swoops, scooping the thrashing animal into her arms and bundling it tight.

It’s eyes are almost the same shade as hers. The first of many observations. Another being that it’s lucky and she has the early winter’s slaughter and rations to spare. Once it stops struggling, she finally rights herself with something resembling a smirk threading along her lips, and starts the journey back to her house proper.

“Does Mother Dracula seek t’join me while I determine what t’feed t’baby?”

[feretra]

when salome offers to satiate dracula's blood hunger (one he had forgotten, in honesty, for a handful of days), she does so with a clause: the unspoken, that he may not leave her sick and ailed for this generosity, and the spoken, that she wants to know what it tastes like. it raises dracula's eyebrow, but regardless, he agrees. when she bares her neck, he shakes his head. ' my fangs would kill you, ' he says, demonstrating the length by bringing her hand to his face, and allowing her to touch one of them. it was as if grasping at the tooth of a tiger.

after a moment or two of thought, salome bears her shoulder instead, moving the heft of her braid away from the curvature. this is acceptable. dracula bends to her height, notably denting his back to clear the distance. another price to pay, he supposed, albeit an infinitesimally small one. he gently takes hold of either side of her arms, his grip easy to pry away, yet firm in keeping her still.

his teeth sink nearer her bicep, clutching the muscle before his primary fangs pop free of the wound. he lays his mouth over the ragged punctures instead, his hair framing her considerably smaller body, obscuring the fine detail of his dram. dracula stops the instant he feels the knots in his head unwind, clenching his palm over the holes upon retreat.

dracula clears his throat, and gives it thought. finally, ' there is a touch of tamarind.. but, you are, for the most part.. overwhelmingly sweet, woody. like cloves. cinnamon. i am reminded of the smoked apples my mother would make... a thousand years ago. thank you. ' he lifts his hand away to examine the wound, the remnants of blood smeared across his palm. ' if you allow me, i will happily treat this. '

Salome is a deeply sensuous creature. It is an unavoidable thing, she thinks, at the heart of it. When you’re trapped in a fragile, floundering form that seems to do little but grant an excess of pain, how can you escape becoming enamored with all that diverts from it?

Except that sensation, often, does not go to great lengths to differentiate amongst itself. Instead, it overwhelms so easily, burning out each nerve pathway it encounters. The restraint of his touch – holding her steady just the same some hapless animal cradled in a trap – feeling all the same as the fangs rooted in her arm and currently pulling out her lifeblood, stinging all the same as the long-established pain radiating down her left hip into a steel-casketed leg.

Thankfully, he pulls away just as her body decides to protest; the steady twitch in her right arm clearly evident, though not entirely abnormal, either. Salome’s body enjoys its surprises, when it can give them. The steadier of the two coming to still its stammering counterpart as she listens to his words –

“I taste like home, then, for t’both of us. It must be all of t’chai,” she muses aloud, almost laughing. Her body still barely settled. “And normally, I would be fine, with such a thing, but it seems we are cranky today, so yes. If y’would.”