Familiarity. Nostalgia. Ah, these fangs. But of course, a vampire. Just as he dreaded, no one these days would use the holy symbol as aesthetic unless it was some sort of sarcasm by the creatures of the night. It quietly offended him how cliche this association had gotten, that even hoping that it wouldn’t be the case for once turned out to be futile. But the servant pushed these thoughts aside.
He did not return the bow, but merely lifted a hand to gesture to himself as he straightened up.
Citing none other than his forsaken name, he observed the vampire before him with his undivided attention. Since he spoke of indescribable nostalgia, the name and legend associated with it was the only matter he could imagine invoking that feeling in bloodsuckers, let alone a reaction. Few were those that hadn’t at least heard the name. And fewer were those who knew the truth behind the man who introduced himself as such.
“The pleasure may be all mine, Slayer! Something akin to nostalgia… I’ve no recollections of meeting you before in any, yet alone in this world. Could it be you mistake me for another?”
“Dracula.. I see. The prince of Wallachia then. Indeed, we have not formally met prior to this instance. Though I am aware of who you are. How bizarre that I stand face to face with you here.”
THIS certainly came off as an unexpected twist. Though perhaps that explained why he felt as though their natures were not quite the same. In his world, Slayer was accepted as a creature of the night. A being that was anything but human. With a life spanning countless thousands of years, many question just when it was that the existence of vampires truly began. A secret that perhaps only he knew.
However, Vlad III was merely a man. A feared man, but a man nonetheless. It was that very fearsomeness that spawned the legend of what many would come to know as ‘Vampire’. But that was just it. In regards to him, it was merely a legend. And yet, the legend seemed to be very much alive and well.. Or was he? There was still something about him that Slayer could not decipher. Something magic in nature.
“Pardon my bluntness, friend.. But if my memory serves me well, you are quite dead.”
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