How long has it been? Vera couldn't recall. She lost count of the days, but she knows it has been months, however, she did not know those months were a year and three months. Escaping the hands of death again, Vera had silently crawled into their bedroom window and hid in the far corner in the darkness, knowing well he would be able to not only see her but sense her presence in the room. She was covered head to toe in blood, dirt, grime, and bruises. "Vlad..." She whispers.
He’d abandoned their apartment some time ago when he’d left in search of Vera. Taken by the same forces that had sought to keep them apart, he’d searched all over the country for her with no avail. Had they been human, he imagined it wouldn’t have been difficult in the least. Humans were tangible, solid--there. They weren’t these hellish phantoms that eluded even his grasp, ones that were older and likely more powerful than he. Yet, even so, in the cold winter air was he still driven to return to their shared apartment where they’d lived because of some gainful premonition he’d somehow divined after over a year of absence. So, he’d gone inside and turned on some lights, forlorn in the place built on their memories. Dusting away the filmy dust that had collected on pictures they’d collected, until something seized his attention.
Vlad whirled around when he saw her, grime and blood smattered on her coppery skin. “Vera...?” he begun in mute alarm, all before impetus seized him in a vice and he rushed over to her, wanting to embrace her but instead steadying her by the shoulders, then maneuvering his lover into his arms and gently depositing her on the bed that he forced the sheets back to with his magick. He dragged an ottoman to her bedside, wasting no time in studying her wounds and using what magick he could to heal her.
“Hold on, dragostea mea. You’re safe now--I promise.”
