vlad_dracul: (Default)
[personal profile] vlad_dracul
Generally, Dracula's sleep is deep. He is as unresponsive and unaware as if he were truly dead. It takes a tremendous effort to rouse him from his slumber. This makes him vulnerable during the day, though not as susceptible to sunlight as some believe. Dracula is very aware of these weaknesses, of course, though he generally feels quite safe, locked inside his high rise apartment in Chicago, with all of its security measures, both ones provided by the unsuspecting, breathing owners and those he has arranged himself.

So, Dracula is quite surprised to transition, with no further memories, from a deep sleep to walking in a wooded and unfamiliar park. He knows only that he is not in Chicago...the smells, the rhythm of life around him, everything is wrong for the city he had grown to know and love. Fortunately, he is also well-rested and well-fed, since he arrives during the day, with sunset still hours away.

Dracula isn't overly concerned about the daylight. After all, he can survive direct sunlight, provided he is well-rested and uninjured. It's not exactly comfortable, but it's far from fatal. He isn't concerned about feeding, either. If anything, the city will simply notice a small decrease in the numbers of vermin and stray animals, until he can make other arrangements. No, there is really only one thing that truly worries Dracula.

Where and how is he going to sleep? He needs to sleep in his native soil, which he doesn't have with him. Without sleep, true death will take him and he is not ready to die. As he ponders this problem, he walks. As the sun begins to set, he leaves the park, heading instinctively towards the nearest cemetery. He can feel the peaceful dead and hopes to find refuge of sorts, there. Perhaps, if he is very, very lucky, he will find that some other vampire has copied his trick and placed Wallachian soil in this place. It is the slimmest of hopes, but all that he has.

(ooc: Feel free to join him in either the park or the cemetery. :D)
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[personal profile] modern_alpha
To be a werewolf is to endure a particular kind of constant indignity, one to which Biffy was not accustomed and had never expected to be. Halfway through the moon's cycle and he can already feel a painful itch under his skin, the longing for his bones to break and reform. His own body's betrayal repulses him and sometimes, in darker moments, he ponders if the loss of a normal human afterlife isn't worth the escape from the indignity.

He means to sit, call his claviger to bring him a cup of tea, and maybe even some (detestable!) raw meat to accompany his evening drink but...

Blood. Hate. Pain. Rampage. Run. Inside. Cage. Ithurts. Ithurtsithurtsithurts. No moon. Howling. Growling.

Don't want. Hate. Blood. Pain. Don'twantit.

Growling. Howling.

Pain.

Alpha.


There are others now in the room. His alphas are here. A massive brindled wolf and a lady with not-so-human scent. Blood. Not blood. Change. Pups. Not yet baby. Born. Not yet. Alpha.

Human voices are shouting and his head swims but he knows his alpha is here. Knows him and hates him for saving his life with the curse. The dark-brown wolf charges, teeth snapping and raging. How he hates them. Hates the pain of changing. Wants to run in circles and howl his fury.

"Really, Biffy, must you?" Alpha Female voice. Then it becomes heavy, like the jaws on his neck. "Behave! What kind of conduct is this for a gentleman!"

Oh dear. That's not just the Alpha Female. That's Alexia, his friend! And he's been snapping and howling and, oh dear, this is her new parlor and he's gone and destroyed it. All those lovely alterations for nothing.

Between his own woe and Lord Maccon's teeth on his neck, Biffy remembers himself a moment. Then Lord Maccon hurls Biffy onto his back and Alexia's hand is on his tail and he's human again.

Human, but not in the parlor he's just destroyed. He's in a cage of a room, dingy and dark in a way that reminds him of his cell at Woolsey Castle only he can't be there now. He was, just a moment ago, in London and with his alphas. Now he is in a cell, naked and alone. Biffy staggers to his feet and searches for a bell-pull so that he may call for a claviger to bring him some clothing.

"H-Hello?"

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