He circled Aiden like a panther stalking its prey, a faint smirk of amusement tugging at his lips when he noticed the other man was unable to move. This was most certainly his dream, because he knew that if it wasn't he would probably be impaled upon one of those stakes along with the faceless mannequins. Pain could be felt here, but that was something he could manage - it wasn't as though it was permanent.
Vlad clasped his hands behind his back, drawing closer as he awaited Aiden's response - but he was careful not to get too close, approaching him from the front rather than from behind. Dreams were unpredictable, after all.
There was no recognition when he spoke of his sister, but that was no surprise. His victims had been nothing more than faceless beings, just like the things on the stakes surrounding them. Then again, it was difficult to remember who she might have been without a name. "Eight years," he echoed. Had it really been that long? She must have been one of his latter victims - one of the younger ones, too. "How did you come to believe I was the one who murdered her?"