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Tweak says, "where roleplay reigns supreme"

Vlad Drăgoi {Dracula} (nobleblood) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-05-24 22:44:00

Entry tags:

dracula, van helsing

Who: Vlad and Aiden
What: A dream encounter
Where: Dreamland
When: Friday night
Warnings: TBD

Vlad's dreams had never been particularly pleasant, but over the past few months they had become even worse: Dracula's influence began to seep into the territory which had once been his, and sometimes he wasn't sure if what he was experiencing was an actual memory or something fabricated by his imagination. It was a world of unending darkness, marred by the sweet stench of death underlain by syrupy-thick blood, and he did everything he could to ensure that Helena would never be able to receive even a whisper of what went through his mind during the night hours.

Tonight was no different. He was in the same gothic-style castle that appeared in numerous dreams, built of unfeeling stone meant to last centuries. The windows were nothing more than rounded openings in the walls, yet he had a perfect view of the landscape below from where he stood, regarding the (his) land below with a sort of cold calculation that wasn't entirely his own. It was almost beautiful in the sense that the view was breathtaking, rolling hills and vast expanses of flat ground as far as the eye could see, with the magnificent outline of mountains in the distance. Not even the carnage could take away from the wonder, and if anything only added to the visual sharpness. Impaled upon countless stakes were bodies, some long since dead and others still twitching in the throes of death.

In the blink of an eye the entire scene melted to nothing and reshaped itself, too quick for him to focus on for long. Now Vlad found himself outside, close enough to the impaled bodies to see that they were actually mannequins instead. None of them had any faces - thee was only smooth blankness where features should have been - and they were clad in a series of bizarre bloodstained outfits. Only the long-haired wigs indicated that they were meant to be female, and he cursed the building and its influence on his dreams. Even though he'd left that room and its riddle behind, it seemed he wasn't going to be allowed to forget about it just yet. His castle had vanished as well, leaving only himself and the impaled mannequins to fill the empty landscape.

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arcere
2010-05-28 04:19 am UTC (link)

The pain as teeth and jaw grazed his hand, as bone connected with bone and sent a ripple of agony up his arm, was enough to rip Aiden from his petrified world and back into the struggling world of still being alive. He choked as Vlad's grip tightened and bruised for that one long moment before letting go entirely, before Vlad suddenly rolled off him and left him free.

Still panicked but at least no longer on the brink of death, Aiden scrambled back and up, getting to his feet frantically even as he choked and coughed madly. For a while he staggered, hunched over and supporting himself on one of the mannequin-impaled stakes. Okay. He was still alive. That was a definite advantage. But he was also still unarmed, and now at the disadvantage of having trouble breathing. And his fist was bleeding a little, because those teeth were sharp.

Though that was what his other fist was for.

Once he'd caught his breath, Aiden grit his teeth and backed into the field of stakes, his eyes locked on Vlad and his hands feeling for anything weak enough to break off and stab with. He needed a weapon, and fast.

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nobleblood
2010-05-28 05:30 am UTC (link)

Even though the haze hadn't fully lifted, Vlad knew he had to move and forced himself to back away, weaving in and out of the bloodstained stakes. He didn't know how much longer he would remain asleep, although secretly he wouldn't have minded if he woke up right this second. He could taste blood on his tongue and his mouth was sore, but he didn't dwell on it; instead keeping an eye on Aiden.

Words would be too painful, and they were entirely unnecessary now. All of the stakes were large, far too much so for him to use as a weapon; but this dream was unpredictable, so he mirrored Aiden's movements in an attempt to search out some sort of weapon.

The mist that began to creep in from behind the two, slow and languid, went completely unnoticed. Vlad bared his fangs again, despite the fact that they were bloody and the movement caused him a fair bit of pain. He tried to get close enough to lunge while taking him by surprise, but with the stakes it was difficult to maneuver.

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arcere
2010-05-28 05:44 am UTC (link)

Vlad was moving sharply and unpredictably. Aiden kept his eyes on him even as his hands gripped and pulled at he huge stakes. He didn't have any luck in getting any of them free, but he kept trying anyway, on the off chance that one would fall and he'd be able to grab, say, a mannequin's fallen arm. And then do what, beat him to death with it? It would at least be something to hold him off, but nowhere near enough.

As he stumbled back, something caught the edge of Aiden's eye - mist. Fuck! Mist would completely obscure his vision, and even if it did hide Vlad's, chances were he had the nose of a bloodhound in this dreamworld and he'd be able to track him down with no trouble. That meant he either had to wake up soon, or get hold of a weapon soon. He picked up the pace but never turned his back completely on Vlad, refusing to give him the slightest opportunity or advantage.

Then again, it made him more likely to trip - and trip he did, foot catching on the edge of a surprise stake. Fortunately he had a hand on another stake, allowing him to catch himself and keep from bowling over completely; unfortunately, it slowed him down and left him open to attack.

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nobleblood
2010-05-29 03:16 am UTC (link)

He relied on his unpredictability, changing his pattern and feigning moves left and right, trying to disorient the man enough to make his move. The pain made him angry, which served to make him even more willing to attack. Aiden's failure in finding a weapon was only faintly amusing amidst his other focus, and he knew he had the advantage here - his teeth were his weapons, and although they were sore, they were still there.

The mist finally caught his attention, but Vlad didn't let his gaze move from the man opposite him. Every muscle in his body tensed, waiting for that one moment which would require quick reflexes and no hesitation.

Then it came.

Vlad lunged forward as soon as Aiden stumbled, tackling him with a roar and sinking his teeth into whatever body part was closest. Everything was a blur of colors and smells, but his jaws snapped shut with a grip of iron and refused to let go. He wanted to taste blood first.

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arcere
2010-05-29 03:30 am UTC (link)

For a few seconds, everything was in slow motion - his own backward stagger, the sight of Vlad lunging out of the coming mist, the monster-sharp teeth gleaming in the half-light of the world. He felt himself bring an arm up to try and protect himself, but part of him thought: no, that's probably not going to work. It seemed kind of stupid, because either way he was getting hurt. Unless he managed to pull down a stake over his own stomach in a nanosecond and block those teeth, or crack Vlad on the back of the skull, he was going to get hurt.

Then time sped up again and Vlad crashed into him and those teeth sunk into his shoulder and Aiden howled.

His arm hadn't been up high enough to get in the way, so it pressed against Vlad's throat instead. The shock of pain was enough to keep him down and jerking fruitlessly for a few seconds too long before he started hitting wildly at whatever was closest - skull, neck, face, eyes, go for the eyes! He tried to rake his nails over and into Vlad eyes even as the blood poured out of his shoulder and the icy heat of the agony lanced through every inch of his body.

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nobleblood
2010-05-29 04:17 am UTC (link)

When fangs met flesh, he knew he'd hit his mark. It wasn't Aiden's neck, unfortunately, but it was enough to have punctured muscle - the blood spurted quickly, and he didn't hesitate as he swallowed the coppery liquid that flowed through the veins of his nemesis. It was such sweet victory that he would have laughed if he could have.

Vlad's triumph didn't last long. Bursts of white-hot pain exploded across his face, causing him to bite down harder in retaliation. There was only so much he could take, however, and going after his eyes was enough to make him reluctantly loosen his grip to get away from the offending fingernails. His laughter was thick and heavy, blood staining his lips and chin while Aiden's desperate attacks had left other battle scars on his face. In that moment he looked every inch like Dracula, teeth bared in a cruel smile. The mist was heavier now, and in the back of his mind he could feel something distantly tugging at him, but he wanted to stay. He wanted to see the look in Aiden's eyes first.

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arcere
2010-05-29 04:38 am UTC (link)

He swore he felt bone cracking under that bite. His shoulder and arm jerked, nails leaving a bloody trail in their wake as that hand was ripped away from Vlad's face out of the pain. Aiden kept hitting until those teeth pulled away, at which point he slammed a hand over the wound to (extremely ineffectually) stop the bleeding. Blood still poured out over and through his fingers, but he wasn't paying attention to that.

What he was looking at was the bloody, laughing monster crouched over him, fangs dripping blood, eyes gleaming with demonic light. This was Dracula, no two ways about it. In Vlad's dream, Dracula reigned.

Even as panic started to engulf him, even as the pain started to prickle in the wrong way, Aiden snarled in agonized loathing and tried to smash that awful grin into a thousand tooth-and-blood stained pieces with his better arm, realizing distantly that it was probably as bad an idea as just giving up. But like fuck he was going to just give up and die, dream or not! If he was going down, he was taking this bastard with him --

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nobleblood
2010-05-29 06:56 am UTC (link)

Vlad still wasn't sure if the fact that Dracula found it easy to slip through in his dreams meant that he was weak or strong; but at the moment it didn't matter. His triumph was almost irrational, the sight of Aiden holding the bloody wound far more satisfying then it should have been.

He moved closer, sarcastic words on the tip of his tongue, but they disappeared when the other man's fist connected with his jaw. Red exploded behind his eyes, and in a rush of pain and anger he threw himself at Aiden, his own blood mingling with his enemy's and practically making him gag. His own roar of agony sounded distant to his own ears, and in a sudden gut-wrenching second he wasn't surrounded by impaled mannequins anymore.

He was in bed, with the sleeping form of Helena lying next to him. His jaw still ached, and the cuts that didn't exist burned with a dwindling fire.

His snarl of frustration was barely muffled by his pillow.

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arcere
2010-05-29 07:05 am UTC (link)

He knew that getting in another hit was basically signing his death warrant, but at the moment it didn't matter. He couldn't see straight, he couldn't move properly, he was in pain, and the sight of his fist connecting with Vlad's jaw was a soothing balm to his soul. But it was all temporary as the bastard roared and threw himself forward, and Aiden squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to feel the agony of teeth puncturing his throat, pulling, tearing, rending his neck open and leaving him to bleed out, to die on broken, bloody stonework among a thousand impaled mannequins --

-- and then that pain turned into a a real throbbing in his skull as he toppled off his chair and slammed into the floor, waking up with startled suddenness that nearly stole his breath. Aiden choked and clawed at his shoulder and neck for almost half a minute before reality sunk in. He blinked to clear his vision, seeing just his floor his desk, his computer, the books and papers that had failed to cushion his fall. Seeing a waking life, real and existent. And no Vlad.

... nothing.

For a minute Aiden sat and stared blankly, recollecting his thoughts, running through the dream in his head; then he snatched up the nearest book and flung it at the far wall with a cry of rage.

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