(Untitled)

[feels_no_love]

Who: Dracula and OPEN
When: Monday all day
Where: All Over
What: Someone's got his groove back--just in time to get a Warden.
Warnings: Charming, seductive bastardry; nothing else yet.

Comments

Kitchen

[feels_no_love]

Dracula drank unabashedly from one of the bloodbags, not bothering to discreetly turn away if anyone came near. If the humans had a problem with his feeding needs they could gag their way through it. His rights were at least as important as theirs, after all, even if they refused to see that. Done, he smirked ironically and looked around as he tossed the bag unerring into the trash.

[removeyourfear]

Honestly, Sylvanas didn't have much use for the kitchen. Although she supposed it was useful to occasionally check and see if someone careless had left a bit of cutlery unattended. This time, she discovered a man drinking a bag of blood. How interesting. But who was she to judge a mortal (or not-so-mortal) on their tastes? Her own Forsaken ate much worse.

"Is blood really all that appealing?"

Her voice was more amused than judgmental.

[feels_no_love]

He wiped his mouth a bit fastidiously before answering. "Not from the bag. But it is necessary. I never face the living on an empty stomach; it is not safe." Actually he did not care, but he had made that policy during a more sentimental time, and it had seemed to appeal to those living who heard of it, so he kept to it anyway.

"Besides, were I find myself with a willing donor I wouldn't want hunger making me hasty." Some things were worth savoring.

"But to answer your question more directly, the drinking of the blood is not very much like eating food. The urge for variety, for example, is not there. So from the bag, one meal is as good as the next."

[removeyourfear]

"A reasonable explanation as any," Sylvanas replied, "I've never bothered to try blood myself. It... is not as appealing to me as it is to some of my subjects."

A cool smile crossed her lips.

"Why do you drink of it? Merely a cannibal? Or something else entirely?"

Gymnasium

[feels_no_love]

It was early still; lunch was being served and Dracula took advantage by heading for the sparsely occupied gym. Once there, he went through a series of what looked like exercises but were actually tests: how much he could lift, carry and throw; how much he could carry with him while leaping; how far he could leap and glide from a height, how strong his grip was...he had a notebook with him and was taking coded notes, while watching carefully for any sign of anyone watching too closely. He wanted to make sure that no one else could get an easy reading on the limits of his power, even as he tested them. Stripping to his shirtsleeves and giving the heavy bag a nice, vicious pounding also helped his mood, and he actually got lost in that part, although he still kept an eye on his notebook.

[breakmychest]

Spike's original intention had not been to watch Dracula's work-out session, but once he was there, he couldn't really resist. Not that he was being particularly discrete about it. He didn't intend to make a secret of his dislike of Dracula, and getting a read on an enemies strengths was never a bad idea. Admittedly, openly glaring was not necessarily the best idea, but hey, Spike couldn't resist sometimes.

[feels_no_love]

Vlad saw him and stopped immediately, a smirk crossing his face. No, Hunter's Dog, you do not get to stand there making an assessment of me. So terribly sorry. A little laugh; he took up his notebook and turned, heading for the door. The Dog's mistress, and now the Dog, had spent an awful lot of time leering obsessively at him of late. Better to frustrate them by indulging full-bore in his talent for...apathy.

[breakmychest]

Oh, no, you wouldn't avoid him that easily this time. Spike could use the gym later. For now, he headed towards the door as well.

"Vladdy-boy!" he shouted as he approached, acting cheerful to the point of incredibly obvious sarcasm.

Library

[feels_no_love]

He was off to the nonfiction section this time, reading up on modern and foreign advances in unarmed combat. Something in his conversation with Armand had sparked the idea in his head. Once he had found a few volumes to his liking, he moved on, slowly making the rounds of the unrestricted areas of the library, committing the layout to memory. He still didn't know if he wished to work here; after some of his encounters during the last week he had somewhat rethought working in the greenhouse. But it was still a good place to know the lay of.

[feels_no_love]

Vlad found a seat nearby and started paging through his finds, half interested in the writing, half curious about Charlie. He knew he often went unnoticed around humans, and so he let himself settle in and give Charlie time to notice him before turning to him and offering a quiet greeting.

Cabin 8-16

[feels_no_love]

Back in his chambers, Dracula paused a while to tend to the pot of Alpine Pinks that now sat on his desk, then set to some far more tedious business. He was going over his notes and updating a coded message to himself when he heard a knock at the door.

Cabin 8-16

[young_idealist]

Armand gathered up Dracula's file and his courage. He didn't really know any of this before, or just vague ideas from the other vampires he'd known on board. Some of what he found in this file chilled him, almost as much as the Borg Queen's had but in a different want. He forced himself not to hover outside the count's door and hoped his knock was firm enough to convey some confidence.

[feels_no_love]

Dracula seemed subdued when he came to the door. Spike's antagonism-for-its-own-sake had left him in a Mood, but the simple tending of the incongruous pot of plants on his desk had helped him with that. Perhaps the smell of green reminded him of Persephone a little--a pleasant memory from an otherwise chaotic time.

He unbolted and opened the door; the light was on for once, for the plant's sake, and the scent of the small pink flowers drifted faintly around the room. When he saw Armand's face, a little of his icy composure slipped and a line appeared between his brows.

"You read it, then. I do not imagine that the experience was particularly pleasant for you. Please, come in."

[young_idealist]

Armand gave the count a brief bow before entering, trying to show respect for the man's rank and title. It was hard to smile with this new knowledge so fresh in his mind.

"It wasn't easy, but at least I knew most of the words." It wasn't a good joke, but he had been relieved to get an inmate who was so close to being a contemporary. He bit his lip as he still stood, nervous and awkward, just inside the count's door. "I want to hear your version, too." Even if the count possibly hadn't caught it already with the smell of the oil and ammunition, the way he hitched his coat across his shoulders as he fidgeted with the folder was a clear indication that he was wearing his holster and gun. It wouldn't do much good if something went wrong, but it was all he had.

Deck

[feels_no_love]

Dracula drifted along the deck, humming faintly to himself so as to seem just slightly less eerie in the absence of footfalls. He was making the rounds, seeing who was drifting out of the pub, who was starwatching or napping, or who might be working late in one of the abovedeck areas. He made mental notes of all of it, even as he kept an eye out for people he knew or who looked like they might have something interesting to say.

Deck

[get_thebook]

Frances stood at the rail ondeck, an open parasol resting on her shoulder, held in one hand, watching the lights pass above and below. It was a good thing she did not feel aware of having been gone, because she knew this, and many other things, would have been missed, surely. But then, even before her last visit to the Barge, she was uncertain it had been her first. Perhaps when she was meant to leave she would forget this place again.

"Ah well," she muttered to herself.

Re: Deck

[feels_no_love]

He noticed the handsome older woman at the railing, and tilted his head, simple curiosity drawing him as much as liking the way the light caught in her eyes and off her hair. He wasn't thirsty, but he was terribly bored and wanting some companionship.

He had been thinking wistfully of the greenhouse when he had spied her, and of leaving a little gift there, but except for his potentially inept labors he didn't have much to offer Persephone or Armand, and he wasn't in the mood for awkward clawing through the dirt.

And so he drew up to the railing perhaps a few paces away, resting his hands on it lightly. "Good evening," he murmured, having zero idea of the cliche that had just popped out of his mouth.

Re: Deck

[get_thebook]

It should have surprised no one that knew her that this was not the first time a man in dark clothing with a Bela Lugosi accent had approached her. Particularly in decades past. At Halloween parties, mostly, off the island. Once or twice locally -- simple busybody native men, gifted by the drink with enough courage to approach her or her sister. Once this had ended in a silly, fumbling tryst that one party would bashfully pretend had never occurred while she chuckled at them in passing.

She missed Ethan, but at least when they came at her with a gimmick she could still enjoy having power over a man now and again.

If she were not on the Barge now, and if it were not May, she would have assumed this more of the same. Being that it was both the Barge, and May, however, she decided this might be worth a little more curiosity. It's not like the was the picture of normalcy, anyway. You can't walk around at night with a parasol and be considered normal.

"And to you."