#just have a lil bloody nakey bitey boi

[undead-notunreasonable]

HAPPY DRAC-O-WEEN || PART 6 OF 31 🎃🦇 ||

For days and nights the time was gone from Dracula’s mind, the complete & total darkness of the blind fold, the random hours of visitation & feeding, who knew what time of day it was. Was it morning, noon, or evening? Was there ever even a morning? All he came to know in that darkened state was that his hearing had improved threefold. Not only could he hear the soft steps of Elizabeth when she came inside but their humming conversation from the floorboards. The sound raising into the air in waves like a radiator newly turned on, causing curtains to flow beneath them. Head rolled to the left. There was no sound of a city, not one of his beloved Whitechapel, the thrum of the underground or howl of emergency services rushing through the streets. Birdsong was prominent however. He must be in the countryside, the lack of city sounds filling the room was evident. But how did they get him here that fast? It couldn’t be anywhere too far from London, which direction he hadn’t a clue since Whitechapel were rather deep into the city centre. How did they even transport him so far without being seen in the first place? “Count Dracula, where have you gone? Why are you not obeying my wishes? Why are you not joining me?” the voice hissed, swirling all different directions, as though it were searching in different pipelines for him, searching an entire city for his follower. Dracula noted the voice had grown fainter the past few days. Elizabeth’s plan was working. He only felt the smallest of pulls that could be mistaken for a small annoyance such as a twitching muscle & nothing more. The blood he’d been fed led him to learn so much about those strangers. Where they’d worked, who they’d met that day, what coffee orders they had & were never satisfied with, the miserable marriage they were trapped in & the person they were having an affair with. Better than the telly box that humans consumed far too much of, never enriched them. 

God, he stank. The smell of stale sweat from being starved days at a time, feeling his body detox, shiver & shake until he were filled with a rage that made him swelter even more in the strain that was his weakened state. Not to mention the blood that dribbled down his face that Elizabeth never washed away after feeding him. In the beginning it’s remaining odour teased at his hunger, making him hunger for more, which in turn caused him to yell out painfully for more feeding. He’d almost convinced Lucy to bring him sustenance but she somehow broke out of it. How unkind she’d become. But now the stench was becoming putrid, crude, almost sinking into his skin to stain. The almost metallic scent had now dried into some form of sharp odour that stung the nose, breathing it in would just burn the back of the throat, you could vomit it up & have the smell linger inside the mouth unable to wash it out, just utterly consumed by it. 

The light slapping of feet entered the room, followed by a gentle sigh. Dracula had aged a little under her care. A few wrinkles, the odd grey hair streaming through the black. He didn’t look too bad with a little age on him she thought. “I’m going to have to trust your word.” Elizabeth announced in a flat word “Don’t make me regret it. You know how handy I can be with a whip when I punish liars.” a tone of flirtation lingered in her words but she still remained serious. “Have you been hearing any more voices? Apart from myself & Lucy. No doubt you’ve been having riveting conversations with yourself--” “--He’s fading.” Dracula interrupted his confession almost desperately, wanting his hands unbound, wanting himself cleaned up & in fresh clothing. It wasn’t arrogant to be clean. “His voice is trailing around, but it’s fading out. He can’t find me. Please, Elizabeth, let me down, let me bathe, keep me bound in you must but please..” his voice wavered & trembled in his desperation. 

A coy smile played at her lips as she thought his request over “Very well. I’ll let you down. Besides, you know how I love when you beg for my mercy.” fingers slide smoothly onto the wall, followed by those bare feet, crawling & scaling up the wall like a spider until she reached the bed, she straddled him once again, more so for grip rather than anything sexual. “When I untie your legs, I’m going to bring them around my waist one by one, the same with arms. You’re weak but do your best to hold on, understand me?” she admired him under her cuffs one last time. When the Count agreed, she reached back, clicking the chain free. Immediately she caught at his ankle, flipping back with the gravity, stopping it from going too far to hurt him even more. The freedom of movement of just one leg was heaven for the Count, letting out a satisfied groan. He’d developed sores on his skin, but she knew those would heal after he’d eaten. Slowly, she curled his leg around her waist, himself letting out little mews of pain at the alien movement Another leg, another catch, another fold. “I would keep you locked up more often if I knew you’d be making such cute noises, Omor.” Elizabeth whispered cheekily, letting her hair tickle at his skin. She reached up above his head, clicking one cuff free, and carefully bringing his arm to her shoulder, followed by the other, a vice like grip holding the pair of them onto the bed. “Hold tight.” she instructed, allowing the pair of them to fall gracefully toward the ground, a hard thud as their combined weight me the hard wood floor. Like a folding chair, Elizabeth unwrapped the man from her body, his feet wobbling under the sudden force of gravity. He hadn’t felt so mortal in so long. He hadn’t felt so weak in centuries, feet barely able to greet the ground as he attempted to walk. It was a good thing that Elizabeth possessed the strength of a vampire since she seemed to manage to carry them both even with how fragile she looked. A good distraction. The blind fold remained however, he wondered why but he hadn’t the energy anymore to ask, just wanting fresh food, company, and clean clothing. Dusty wooden floor turned to frozen cold stone step, small stones stabbing at the soles of his feet as he trudged down once more, like tiny daggers torturing at him. They both stopped short suddenly, and heard the rumbling of a door handle to his right, then creak followed by a flooding of warmth. The air was muggy & heavy, sitting low on his chest. A scraping of a chair from ahead a short ways, guided down, and then suddenly a burst of light. “Gah!” he groaned out, hands rushing to his eyes. Those burned like he imagined hell would & instantly removed them, tormented with a way to cope with the shock of light. He only kept his eyes closed for a moment longer before blinking himself awake. It wasn’t even a full light, everything was soft candlelight. He carefully cracked his neck from side to side as he looked, then spotted the bath, filled almost to the brim with steaming water. 

“It’s called a bath.” Elizabeth chimed, going to another candle that hadn’t been lit, lighting it with another. “Quite frankly, Dracula, you stink of death. I mean of literal death. I’m not having that in my home, especially when I spent another mans loose change on Yankee Candle that even I don’t think will cut through your stench. They’re worth it, believe me.” a playful grin as she walked toward a cabinet to take out a towel. When she saw he hadn’t undressed she scoffed “Don’t tell me locking you up has made you all shy about being nude? I’ve seen you naked, Omor. We used to have amazing sex back in Italy. I taught you everything I know, be glad I’m not asking for credit.”

The Count followed her order, wobbling hands fumbled at the buttons, one by shaking one. He didn’t posses the strength or care to fold the bloodied clothes neatly. The trousers were a little bit more of a struggle, and Elizabeth knew they would be. Like a good nurse, she unbuttoned them, helping him slide out, and over towards the bath. She made a once over of his body, but surprisingly didn’t make a rude comment. Instead, she gave him a nod & made her way toward the door, promising that a cup of dinner will be with him soon and that he should focus on cleaning up in the meantime. Alone in a dimmed bathroom, Dracula carefully eased his fragile body into the steaming water, already feeling it working its magic on his stiff bones. He noticed the age spots on his hands, the small greys that painted his chest. How long had he been out for?

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