Aiden Shepard [ Abraham Van Helsing ] (arcere) wrote in bellumlogs,
The dark sky, the female mannequins, the spikes, the castle. If he was having a nightmare, it was different than the others. For one, there was no screaming. There was no ... blood. Just the implication of blood. He felt the ice crawl along every inch of his veins, slowly, pervading him --
Until that one word, so innocent and innocuous, so flat and unremarkable, sent the freezing sensation shooting through him. Aiden stood completely still, head turning slowly to face the direction of the word spoken by a voice that was both relatively unfamiliar and yet damningly haunting.
His eyes met Vlad's across the courtyard.
The last time they'd met like this had been brief and tense in the stairwell during the last full moon. There had been a group of them, then. He'd been armed. There had been a moment when it had all been hate and he'd nearly stabbed the bastard right where they stood - but then the moment had passed. They'd separated. All of them, too busy and too troubled.
That was not now. In his head, Aiden could have sworn he felt screaming that wasn't his.
"You," he breathed, teeth clenched tight together as the rage started to edge along the ice in his veins. If this was a nightmare, then he was going to fix it with his own apparently lucid hands.