@minamxrray
It had only been a brief amount of time that the eastern foreigner had touched English sands. Already, the cogs of his plan were beginning to turn and align perfectly, they had been ten years in the making, after disastrous events in his homelands, and now finally they were unfolding. The purchase of Carfax Abbey next to the asylum had been completed, his presence in England, and his minion Renfield in Dr. Seward’s care were just the first steps, the first steps at unraveling the tapestry of their world.
A long day of rest had rejuvenated the Count, he now found a peaceful seat upon a stone bench above and near the sea atop a grassy cliff. Its tide a rhythm of equanimity as he sat. One hour passed, then two as he remained virtually as still and as cold as the seat he occupied. If one stared long enough, they would think him a statue. Perhaps, he thought, if he sat long enough the rushing waters would cleanse those unpleasant memories of the past from his aging mind.
He looked very different compared to ten years ago. His hair was once black as night, his flesh bearing no signs of age. Dracula was now graced with white hair, and a mustache similar to one he had centuries ago. His skin pulled taught over his cheekbones, gaunt and wrinkled.
The night hours lengthened with no disturbance, until, the rustling of footsteps in the grass were heard in the distance. It was what he had hoped would occur this night. Everything was going according to plan.
Excellent.
