OOM sorta: Room #100
[following this:]
She stretches her limbs slowly, skin brushing warm cotton.
Warm cotton?
She swims though dazed dreaming, caught in that place between awake and asleep, until her eyes draw open like blinds parting to let the sunlight in. And in it comes, warm and rich, through her bedroom windows.
She sits up, blankets pooling in her lap, and blinks at her surroundings.
She brings her hand to her forehead, fingers rubbing anxiously.
'This is your home.'
'Yes, of a kind.'
Another dream.
Wasn't it?
She pulls the covers aside, slowly swings her legs out of bed, and gasps as soft fur tickles her toes. Rich and expensive, it smells vaguely of woodsmoke, and she remembers...
...She remembers that place. The castle.
Vlad Tepesh.
Dracula.
It's already late in the morning. Doc had come knocking -- come looking -- but she didn't answer. Well past the time she should have been down in the stables taking care of her chores, she let him think she was out. In reality, she was still in her nightgown, curled in the armchair by the window, with the fur draped over her legs.
'What would you have me tell you? That I have lived for many centuries, that I commanded an army that withstood the siege of the Ottoman Turk?
'That I have committed atrocities in the name of God and his Holy Empire?
'Would you hear of the day I renounced God in all his cruelty, of the day I chose Love over Faith?'
She sits in thought, absently playing with her bottom lip, hands as restless as her heart.
'I am not a monster, Katherine. You and I...
'Our trajectories are not so dissimilar.'
She remembers the way that cross had melted in her palm, silver bubbling and hissing through the cracks between her fingers, hitting the snow which bled into the earth. But her skin had not burned. There was no scar, no blister, and the lack of these made her afraid.
'You are correct. I am what you call -- vampyr.
She tries to piece it all together: what Doc had told her about Kate Bishop's attack; Mina's warnings against the vampire called Dracula, he who took her humanity away from her; Bela's note about her attack, and her caution against leaving the bar without protection. Kate had asked him -- Vlad -- if he was behind these things, and he ...
... he did not answer.
'I want you to feel safe when you are with me. Nothing can touch you here.'
She scrubs her face in agitation.
He didn't scare her. She felt safe, and warm, and content in his presence. Thrice now she remembers spending time with him (where do the dreams end and reality begin?), but never has he threatened or bitten her. He is not a monster.
Or are you being tricked, Katherine?
Dream of me . . .
What are you doing?
'Come now. Do not take me for a fool. Let he who is without sin among you, cast the first stone.'
She closes her eyes, and one silent, solitary tear trails down her pale cheek.
You understand.
You know what it's like.
You had everything taken from you and you did what you had to do to survive He's a murderer and there is no justice no mercy no truth no God (but you're not alone) you know what it's like
If you are a monster, then what am I?
She is betrayed by the gentleness of her heart, and her unbridled thirst for justice.
She wants to know more about him -- about Vlad Tepesh, Dracula, the prince who has been so kind to her, all the while filling her with such confusion and uncertainty. She wants to know why she dreams of him at night, why she feels pulled to his memory during the day -- why she can't seem to be in the same room with Doc anymore without feeling ashamed, but he makes her feel safe. Part of her is angry, but mostly she's just ... lost.
And he is the compass.
(He has the answers.)
'You walk in darkness as well, and if it is darkness you crave, you know where to find me.'
.
She stretches her limbs slowly, skin brushing warm cotton.
Warm cotton?
She swims though dazed dreaming, caught in that place between awake and asleep, until her eyes draw open like blinds parting to let the sunlight in. And in it comes, warm and rich, through her bedroom windows.
She sits up, blankets pooling in her lap, and blinks at her surroundings.
She brings her hand to her forehead, fingers rubbing anxiously.
'This is your home.'
'Yes, of a kind.'
Another dream.
Wasn't it?
She pulls the covers aside, slowly swings her legs out of bed, and gasps as soft fur tickles her toes. Rich and expensive, it smells vaguely of woodsmoke, and she remembers...
...She remembers that place. The castle.
Vlad Tepesh.
Dracula.
It's already late in the morning. Doc had come knocking -- come looking -- but she didn't answer. Well past the time she should have been down in the stables taking care of her chores, she let him think she was out. In reality, she was still in her nightgown, curled in the armchair by the window, with the fur draped over her legs.
'What would you have me tell you? That I have lived for many centuries, that I commanded an army that withstood the siege of the Ottoman Turk?
'That I have committed atrocities in the name of God and his Holy Empire?
'Would you hear of the day I renounced God in all his cruelty, of the day I chose Love over Faith?'
She sits in thought, absently playing with her bottom lip, hands as restless as her heart.
'I am not a monster, Katherine. You and I...
'Our trajectories are not so dissimilar.'
She remembers the way that cross had melted in her palm, silver bubbling and hissing through the cracks between her fingers, hitting the snow which bled into the earth. But her skin had not burned. There was no scar, no blister, and the lack of these made her afraid.
'You are correct. I am what you call -- vampyr.
She tries to piece it all together: what Doc had told her about Kate Bishop's attack; Mina's warnings against the vampire called Dracula, he who took her humanity away from her; Bela's note about her attack, and her caution against leaving the bar without protection. Kate had asked him -- Vlad -- if he was behind these things, and he ...
... he did not answer.
'I want you to feel safe when you are with me. Nothing can touch you here.'
She scrubs her face in agitation.
He didn't scare her. She felt safe, and warm, and content in his presence. Thrice now she remembers spending time with him (where do the dreams end and reality begin?), but never has he threatened or bitten her. He is not a monster.
Or are you being tricked, Katherine?
Dream of me . . .
What are you doing?
'Come now. Do not take me for a fool. Let he who is without sin among you, cast the first stone.'
She closes her eyes, and one silent, solitary tear trails down her pale cheek.
You understand.
You know what it's like.
You had everything taken from you and you did what you had to do to survive He's a murderer and there is no justice no mercy no truth no God (but you're not alone) you know what it's like
If you are a monster, then what am I?
She is betrayed by the gentleness of her heart, and her unbridled thirst for justice.
She wants to know more about him -- about Vlad Tepesh, Dracula, the prince who has been so kind to her, all the while filling her with such confusion and uncertainty. She wants to know why she dreams of him at night, why she feels pulled to his memory during the day -- why she can't seem to be in the same room with Doc anymore without feeling ashamed, but he makes her feel safe. Part of her is angry, but mostly she's just ... lost.
And he is the compass.
(He has the answers.)
'You walk in darkness as well, and if it is darkness you crave, you know where to find me.'
.