Grimness had to be expected for an appropriate reaction, thus, the ellon towering so gracefully in the pale moonlight presented himself unfazed. He neared the count not, albeit the head of his elongated shadow would meet that trapped one’s feet. Wintry stare’s sharpness waned in no moment whilst keen hearing drank in each word of Dracula’s monologue — must Thranduil accept that those he himself was well acquainted with meant nothing to a stranger. And posed the alternative to bring harm upon kin … what would the elvenking favor ? Nay, he won’t just bend. Within his fair head circled thoughts aplenty, lithe fingers sinking to the knot in his robe’s belt when decision was made to turn soon and indeed take the bath while it was warm.
But Dracula hurled into the room the word fear in association with Thranduil himself and he failed to ignore that. He almost wanted to laugh.
That impulse so easily had been brushed off when those obscure shadows caught his attention, the quiet sound of flapping leathery wings from afar creeping into keen ears. Eyne flickered rapidly to capture each, while nervousness flared in his chest. If briefly so. Composure, fortunately, left him not and would square broad shoulders anew.
❝ Such exorbitant volumes. A bursting heart ❞, poured a scoff past bared teeth, fluidity of the ellon’s stride devoid of all sound yet brimming with undying grace as he reduced the distance. Those silhouettes fell victim to ignorance. ❝ I have faced worse than a myth-enshrouded shadow. What agitation you may have sensed is none for myself. ❞
He halted in front of that barrier, firmness lacing his baritone persistent while it was not in his nature to shout and so he won’t; one who needed to shout lacked conviction, after all. ❝ You deem I ought to be thankful that solely two men left their families to evitable grief. But what does that number matter ? The next pair will follow, once your veins ache again, won’t they ? ❞
There swung no more mockery in his baritone, for the king’s concern for his people weighed heavy on his heart indeed, as did threat haunting allies to become sacrifice for an acquaintance of his with some beastly lord. However fascinating this one might be, Thranduil shan’t break his promises and violate old treaties for him. Into those cruel red pools pierced unblinking blues for a prolonged moment of silence, faintest motion to his fair head signaling negation.
❝ So if my friendship is that which you seek, you will cease to prey on friends of mine, whether elf or man. The world is vast. ❞ Brows rose in emphasis, an upturn of his chin following. ❝ Blessed with a pair of wings that carry you swift and far, you have no excuse. ❞ A pause, gaze slowly dropped to that terrible, red mouth, contemplation roaming that now crownless head. Required the count proof that Thranduil did not dread him for his own health ? One single step carried him backwards. ❝ Come in. And give me your word, as a friend would. ❞
the wolf had bared his teeth and raised his hackles, so to speak, and had been met only with the faintest stirring of the elf king’s heart a sound which he had already become well acquainted with during their previous meeting. it was a hollow sound, like the empty park of a mighty pine, and had to it a slow, melodious gait that only chased when the morvul’s malignant ire began to show.
if the way he appeared so scantily clad in comparison to their last meeting bothered the count’s sense of decorum, he certainly didn’t let it show. instead, the creature’s eyes only roamed past the sheet of tamed silver hair, into the silk collar and onto the protruding collarbone. it was there that, if the king could only know what knowledge he had and see with his eyes ; the eyes of a beast, he would know how to sense the tantalizing rush of blood beating below the surface.
“ not so, ” invited in: the beast strode in regardless of his supposed sleight against the elf, and it was only once beside the pool of crystal water that his form began to change. his robes, heavy velvet and covered with no small amount of dust, became suddenly as light as air, matching in colours of dark crimson and jet black the very same sort of robe as that which he had seen Thranduil wearing at dale. but the back dipped low, collecting and bunching at the waist, so that a truly terrifying silhouette could appear to be protruding from his shoulders: it was a pair of wings, made almost entirely out of sinew and claw like a bat’s, but long enough to touch the floor. summoned no-doubt as a mockery to the suggestion of his flight but there nonetheless, and very much corporeal.
“ that is not enough for me. ” the count’s voice is bladed and his intonation is grave. he knows well that he walks a path that could very well lead him to being at odds with the whole of a subterranean kingdom. “ well, i shall rephrase: it is enough that I shall abide by an agreement not to feed from your people, or those you deem as friends to them. but your faith in my ability to travel from one place to another on such short notice is where your knowledge of my kind finds failing. for it is not without effort that these glamours and tricks are maintained for the sake of no one but yourself, and your people, for upon witnessing what we morvul are in truth, they would know me immediately for a monster and hunt me ‘til my death. ”
again the count turns back to thranduil and began again to eye the length of untouched throat, but evidently began to notice his own thirst getting the better of him, for he drew back again and let his eyes linger on the bathing pool instead. “ if we are to be friends, my king, then i would seek your mercy to barter: there must be an arrangement we can find agreement on, in the interest of no heartbeat of life or undeath being lost. ”
