For lastvoyages: Spam for Deck
[Dracula had piled up a great mass of snow near the gardens and packed it together well. Now, using his claws, he was slowly gouging out a rough outline of a castle. He didn't know why exactly; he had simply grown bored of flying finally, but was loath to return to his quarters. Marishka's company had gone cold and nagging; every time that she saw him she asked if he had made a kill yet. He couldn't stand it, so instead...he carved the tight-packed snow with hands that never once heated the material into softness.]