Medieval Slasher (Vasco the Behemot) with a great sword is hiding somewhere in Castle Dracula Gardens. Another day in Castle Dracula. Walking through the gardens with Mina's hand in my own. The sun so bright and so warm and comforting. The Count allowed Arthur to retrieve his newly bethrothed wife Mina Armada from London over sea and vessel. Her friend Lucy Westenra came with her because she wants to see this mysterious eerie place she hears about all the time from her wealthy aristocratic traveling friends. Transylvania. Igor strolls down into the library finding himself alone in his touring of the Count's grand castle.
A hand touches along the small of his back pressing flat against his coat's exterior seductively. Sarah Heller shys away sheepishly. Coy eyes. Glorious bosom. This girl of nineteen or maybe twenty. Her hand touches Igor's affectionately as she leans in close to him. Almost as if an animal nudging at your leg.
The black skinned young lad among the guests stands at an open gaping viewscape cut from stone along the ridge of the Castle rooftops. A strange Japanese sword is strapped against his back by some ceremonial sash thoughtlessly draped across the lad's chest at shoulder securely. Lucy is now at his side watching as if pondering something wise or profound in deep reflection. She laughs and giggles playfully hitting the black skinned young lad's arm and he smiles into the fair skinned maiden's eyes for the first time in this way. Lucy gets up and turns to run away. Her arms fold encountering Count's cold outer cloak dragging along the floor collecting leaves as if he's been hiding up in the rafters of the Castle Cathedral or sleeping there with the vampire bats. The corpsish old man possesses a skin pigment much more pale more so than snow. His head is at a loss of follocals. Eyes without an iris yet amazingly flawless glistening teeth and the way he smiles it mezmorizes you. The black skinned young lad Augustus is temporarily dismayed with his own trance like drifting as he gazes upon the strange Count. He focuses his mind and starts perceiving the Count's demonic presence his malevolent energy aura. Fearsomely tremendous. Wicked. Chaotic and destructively cursed with a primal forsaken suffering caused of many travesties gone unresolved an eternity. The Count smiles and takes Lucy's hand evily kinivingly bestowing a sickening kiss upon the surface of the beautiful young maiden's calm flesh. A gesture enduring. A gesture enduring. Forsaken.
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