Good in a Cape

Back at Stokely Castle, Vlad stands in front of the full body mirror in his room, looking himself over. He'd just finished being forced to listen to another one of his dad's lectures, going on about the inescapability of vampirism, the general lameness of normality, and the ever approaching change that would take place in Vlad only a few short years from now.

Of course, The Count had finished his fatherly talk by retrieving Vlad's cape from where it was hung, lowering it over his sons head, onto his shoulders, and impressing upon Vlad his destiny as a vampire. The Count had then flitted away, presumably to attend to other business, leaving Vlad alone to consider his words.

Standing up slightly straighter, Vlad evaluates his appearance in the barely worn cape, moving several times over the course of several minutes to view himself at different angles.

The vampiric cape of black and crimson red is held tight to Vlad by a thick, solid chain around his neck. The heavy fabric of it drapes heavily from his shoulders, falling to just a few centimeters above the floor, and flows smoothly with every movement he makes, like water following the path of a stream.

Reaching a verdict, Vlad decides that while he doesn't look quite as terrible in a cape as he would expect himself to, he's not really a fan of the dark and gloomy look. And as long as he's hoping to be normal, capes are definitely not in the outfit rotation. Pulling off the cloak, Vlad moves, hanging it back on the mirrors corner where it was previously stationed, before his father's abduction of it from its previously assigned post.

"...You know, you didn't look half bad in that. It's honestly quite impressive..... for a dork, at least." Ingrid supplies from the doorway.

Surprised by his sister's presence, Vlad jumps slightly blackwards, almost knocking both the mirror and cape to the ground. "Ah! Ingrid, when did you get here?!"

"Oh, about halfway through your little fashion show. I'm surprised you didn't notice." Ingrid states jokingly, her voice on the edge of being mocking, but not quite there. Though as she speaks again, her voice becomes softer, the locution with which her words are delivered more sincere. "I was being honest, though. You don't look terrible in a cape."

"Ah, flattery! So, .....what do you want?" Vlad asks, as though her wanting something is the only reason she would ever compliment him. Of course he's pretty much dead right, but still, it's a rude assumption.

Ingrid, irritated, answers him as she moves out from the doorway, slowly pacing further into Vlads room. " You said 'later'. Well, it's later."

At this, Vlad blanks momentarily, before his cheeks turn red, a sheepish grin growing on his face as he scratches the back of his head. Ingrid graces his response with only a disinterested side-eye as she walks past him, Vlad turning to continue facing her as she does so.

He had completely forgotten his plan to talk with ingrid, in lieu of the recent lecture he had been given by his father. Besides that, he also hadn't been expecting her to approach him about it so quickly. It only having been like 15 minutes since they'd spoken last. 'I really shouldn't be surprised. Ingrid never has liked waiting for anything, so why would she start now?'

Ingrid comes to a stop in the centre of the room, then slowly turns on the spot to look down at Vlad, a few feet away.

"Now, why are you so willing to give me the room? You've only just gotten it." She asks, suspicious of the motivation behind her brothers actions. 'There has GOT to be a catch...'

Hopeful that his avoidance would go unnoticed, Vlad responds. "Well, it's not like it would be free. It's a trade, an exchange. I would be getting something out of it as well."

The young vampiress, unamused by her brothers amateurish attempt at misdirection, prompts him once more. "That doesn't answer my question...."

".....Okay, fine. So, Zoltan can't really..... get up and down the stairs by himself." Vlad discloses slowly in abashment, omitting the many other problems with the room so as to not decrease its value in his sisters eyes. Luckily enough, he has no problem selling his lie of omission, the embarrassment he feels at not foreseeing such an obvious issue beforehand leaving his face in a deep blush.

".....Pft... Hahaha!" She laughs, voice sweet and melodious in spite of her mirthful exclamations cutting edge. "You're giving up the BEST room in the castle, all because your mangy furball can't climb the stairs? You are such a sucker."

Vlad, now well aware that Ingrid is misidentifying Zoltan just to get on his nerves, defends his companion once more. "He's. A. Hellhound. And no, I'm not giving it up. I'm trading it. T-RA-DING"

*CLAANNG!*

Both surprised by the sudden knell, Ingrid and Vlad put their conversation on hold, looking about the room in an attempt to verify the origin of the sound. As they weren't expecting the interruption, they had, in fact, paid little attention to where the noise came from, caught unawares as they were.

Briefly turning back to her brother, interrupting her search for the sudden sound, Ingrid poses him a question, tone of peevish demand. "Uh, what was that?"

"I... don't know...." Vlad responds.

*CLAANNG*

The metallic reverberation makes itself known once more, as though to announce its location to the rooms occupants. Turning in the direction of the noise, the pair end up looking through Vlads window, seeing only the sunny sky of the outside. Apprehensively, Vlad moves past Ingrid, steadily approaching the window.

*CLANK CHING*

Vlad pulls back slightly, wary of the item that has just flown in through, and hooked onto, his window. After a few moments of inactivity, Vlad begins stalking slowly forwards once more, mildly reassured by the small lull in movement from the object.

"....Well, What is it?" Ingrid asks from behind Vlad, making a conscious effort to keep her tone confident and imposing so as to conceal her worry.

Vlad, while vaguely aware of his sisters underlying emotions, steadfastly resolves not to comment on them, knowing the consequences well. Instead, he squints his eyes, taking a moment to examine the object latched onto the edge of the towers windowsill. Turning to look at Ingrid, Vlad relays his observation. ".... It's a grappling hook. Y'know, the type used for rock climbing..... I think?"

After a moment of silence passes between them, his words floating in the air like a balloon waiting to pop, both of their eyes widen in realization. Dashing to the window, Vlad and Ingrid follow the rope attached to the hook downwards, their eyes contacting with a head of black, bowl-shaped hair, steadily moving up the rope.

Pulling away from the window, Vlad looks to Ingrid, face knitted into an expression of alarm and confusion. Whisper yelling, so as to not alert the attempting intruder, Vlad questions Ingrid. "What do we do!?"

"What do you mean, 'what do we do!?', we call dad!" Ingrid declares, the solution seeming not just simple, but obvious.

"NO! If we do that, dad's gonna bite their HEAD OFF! And then we're gonna have the whole town screaming, 'BURN THE VAMPIRES!!!', at the front door!!!" Vlad refutes vehemently, unwilling to go through that EVER again!

Ingrid, also uninterested in another peasant mob, refers to Vlad for a better idea, though she doesn't expect one. "Well, what do you suggest, fang face?!"

"I don't know, but if we get dad then we ARE going to be chased out again! And where will we go next, hmm? France? Mexico? Maybe we'll move to RUSSIA!!" Vlad proposes, unwilling to move somewhere so cold all year round.

*Ugh*, Grunts Robin as he rests his arms on the ledge of the windowsill, his hands now comforted by the cool stone, rather than the itchy, irritating rope that had begun to cause his hands to burn. Having begun to hear conversation a small bit back, the boy had decided it would be a good idea to stay quiet once he reached the top, in hopes of not being noticed. And maybe he just wanted to eavesdrop also. Just a tiny bit, he swears!

Seemingly unluckily for the boy though, his current position AT the top doesn't seem to allow much room for hiding or eavesdropping.

The duo however, absorbed as they are in their argument -Which had been steadily increasing in volume throughout, and is now definitively being yelled- don't notice the small grunt Robin had let out. Nor do they notice the pair of arms and head clearly on display through the window.

"You are a TOTAL whimpire, you know that!?! How can dad claim you as heir to the Dracula throne when you're such a baby?!" Ingrid attacks, moving closer to Vlad and getting right in his face as she insults him.

Vlad looks defiantly up at his sister, striking back with his own offence of words. "He can do it EASILY. I'm his favourite!! And guess what else!? I'm keeping the tower room!!"

"What?! But you don't even WANT the tower room!" States Ingrid incredulously.

Vlad smirks victoriously, and in a singsongy voice replies, "Buut youuu doooooo!"

"UGH!! You little pest! You are so..... annoying!!!" Ingrid stomps her feet in frustration.

Here, Robin feels the last of his arms strength beginning to wane, and immediately decides that making his presence known is more important than listening to..... Whatever this is. "Uh, hey! Just a suggestion, but could you PLEASE help me up!"

Turning to the boy hanging from the windowsill, their movement simultaneous, both Vlad and Ingrid freeze in confusion. ""HUH?!!""

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Chapter 4: 1627 words, (not including this bit)

Hey! Sorry this one took so long to get out, but... Meh! The late post was due a mixture of family issues, being super busy irl, the time it took to do the accompanying drawings, and difficulty writing due to how much this chapter deviates from the original cannon in comparison to the other chapters.

Anyway, if you enjoyed the chapter, comment! Constructive criticism is always welcome. Stones would be appreciated so that others can see the story and I know that I'm doing an ok job.

💎💎💎