Making Friends?
"Ok! Give us our dad and brother back!" Paul Brannagh demands in a firm voice. Turning to his brother beside him, the teen seems to think better of his word choice. ".... Nah, too confrontational."
Facing the closed castle doors once more, he tries out a different set of words, speaking clearly to get a sense for how they feel in his mouth. "Have you seen a man in sensible waterproof clothing, and a weird looking goth child?"
"Look, you gonna knock or not?" Ian asks, tired of listening to his brother procrastinate.
Excusing his stalling, Paul responds defensively, his words sounding lame even as he says them. "Yeah, y'know. I'm just getting ready to knock."
"EUUUUGH!" Chloe, quite annoyed by her brother's indecisiveness, groans from behind the two, moving past them and doing the job herself.
*KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK*
Paul, unprepared and anxious, attempts to push the responsibility of speaking onto his twin. "You do the talking."
"No, you." Ian shoots back, unwilling to interact with whoever was weird enough to move into a castle.
*CREEK!*
Opening the door, Ingrid is met by three strangers. Two teen boys, strong and dumb looking, and a small girl. Irritated by the interruption, as they'd disrupted Robins escape, Ingrid speaks with aggression. "Yes?"
The brothers stand still, stunned and taken off guard by the beauty of the girl who'd opened the door. The last thing they expected to see when looking for their weirdo brother was a pretty girl. "Uh..."
Chloe, taking very little notice of her brothers shell-shocked expressions, cut straight to the point. "Have you seen anyone wandering around here with a cloak?" She asks frankly, a clear lack of preamble in her question.
"Yeah, loads." Answers Ingrid, the irony of her statement lost on the young girl, before moving her arm to reach behind the one still closed door. Pulling back her arm, she drags Robin out from behind the cover of the door, Vlad following him into view. "But I presume you want this one. Now get lost." As she says this, she shoves Robin forwards, practically throwing him into his siblings.
Chloe, unappreciative of Ingrid's unmannerly attitude, and her treatment of her brother, gives her the stink eye. "You're quite rude, aren't you?"
"It's my thing. Deal with it!" Ingrid retorts, already not liking the breather brat.
Looking to to Robin, Vlad smiles as he says goodbye. He, due to the closeness in age, and the ordeal they'd just gone through, feels the beginnings of a friendship with the weird boy - It's nothing to do with the fact that he was completely friendless, REALLY!-. "See ya then Robin."
"Yeah. Come to mine if you fancy it any time. Number twenty-two down the hill." Robin responds, his expression mirroring Vlads in an uncanny fashion.
Vlad, taking Robins invitation as an offer of friendship, voices his appreciation. Though, as he does so, something occurs to him. "Thanks! Oh, hey. Maybe.... you could do me a favour, get..... these things for me?" As he's asking this, Vlad quickly scribbles down some items on a small piece of paper he'd been doodling on in the car, using the castle door as a makeshift table. The note and pencil had been kept in his pocket incase he gained some free time with nothing to do, and summarily came in handy. Passing the list to Robin, Vlad watches as he reads it, observing his reaction to the strange request.
Looking at the scrap of paper, Robin contemplates the weirdness of the items on the list, before chalking it up to vampire stuff and aquiessing. "..... Sure."
"So, will we be seeing you again?" Ian Brannagh asks, the sights of both him and his brother locked squarely on Ingrid.
Believing that she may, somehow, make use of them, Ingrid gives them a vague, noncommittal answer so as to keep the bozos guessing. "Perhaps.... "
"Catch you later." Ian, idiot that he is, decides to punctuate his goodbye with two finger guns. Pointing them at Ingrid, he makes a "*CHK*" sound with his mouth and smiles in what he thinks is a charming manner. It is not.
"""""...."""""
After a long, akward pause -throughout which Ian kept up his finger guns-, Ingrid groans irritatedly and slams the heavy castle doors in their faces.
Though, to be fair, who could blame her?
*SLAM!*
Turning her back to the large, heavy double doors that are SUPPOSED to keep people out, Ingrid glares at Vlad scornfully, as if this was all somehow his fault.
"Be thankful this all worked out, Vlad." Ingrid spits venomously, moving away from the door to stand beside her brother. "Do you have any idea what dad would have done if he caught us talking to those breathers?" Her question is one half rhetorical, the other half curiousity. Did Vlad really know the consequences that would've awaited them should they have been caught?
Sarcastically, Vlad responds to her (half) rhetorical question, a smirk making its way onto his face. "Cut our allowance?"
"And our throats!" Ingrid states indignantly, all too familiar with their father's temper.
From behind the two moves a figure, smooth and silent. Stalking slowly forwards in a deceptively gentle manner, the figure moves from the shadows, the darkness enshrouding their form moments earlier receding as the gentle candlelight of the castle illuminates the abyssal creature. This light, having brought clarity to the unknowns identity, softly flickers in anticipation, visibly jumping and falling with barely contained anxiety. A feeling soon shared by the two young Dracula children as a voice speaks out.
"Oh, I think you underestimate me, my darling children." The Count declares lowly, his voice reverberating in an eerily terrifying way. His words, while solely his own, are seemingly echoed by a darker, more ominous voice that sends a chill through the two.
They freeze.
Vlad, quickly pushing past his panic, looks to Ingrid while keeping his head perfectly still, afraid any visible movement would set their father into action. "Split up. Then perhaps one of us will live."
Simultaneously, the siblings begin to move, sounding off the beginnings of a great race for survival. Making it about half a step, they are stopped dead in their tracks by both an immovable object, and an unstoppable force. Their father.
Having grabbed both of his children by their shoulders, The Count growls. His grip, while not tight or painful, still holds them in place, the strength and control he possesses evident as he restrains the two effortlessly, while somehow making it feel as though he wasn't even touching them. The stone-like pressure of his grip only evident to his children when they struggled too hard. Which they didn't. They knew better.
If they'd managed to get away, even momentarily, their father may have humoured them, hunting them throughout the castle as though playing a game of cat and mouse, or hide and seek. Usually, that made him simmer down slightly, the faux-hunt satiating some grand primal need, loosening him up a bit. Even if it scared them witless nine times out of ten, the two had come to a (begrudging) agreement beforehand that it was, more often than not, worth it. Of course, that was only if they provided a good chase. A good hunt.
If they didn't, his mood may very well worsen. And that never ended well....
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Having moved his children to the lounge room, (the room at the bottom of the tower that Ingrid and their dad were arguing in earlier), The Count forces the two down onto a pair of stools, before moving back to glare at them.
After a solid twenty seconds of glaring, the Count begins in his admonition of his children, rattled as he is by their actions. "Mixing with zombies I could forgive, understand even! But BREATHERS!?" In contrast with his previous outrage, his tone denotes confusion and bafflement as he continues to speak, unable to wrap his head around the current situation. "Socializing with possible dinner ingredients...?"
"Dad! We don't want to be driven out again!" Vlad defends, feeling the need to have his say before his dad gets into a rthym and doesn't let anyone else speak. "And if that's what we want, we need to blend in! Not dig in! Maybe if we do that, we won't have another angry mob storming the castle."
Feeling attacked by his sons comment, The Count moves to justify himself. "Ah. Now that! That was the result of a small.... misunderstanding between me and the village elders!"
"You drained their blood!" Vlad states, affronted by his father's words. As if they'd pack up their bags, move countries, and learn an entire language and accent, because of a 'small misunderstanding'.
"Well, alright, a BIG misunderstanding..." Amends The Count, sounding vaguely sheepish.
Having somehow gotten his father onto the back foot, though he has no idea how, Vlad continues to push his point. "Here's a.... radical idea. How about.... befriending our neighbours? That way, they won't want to get rid of us."
The Count, bemused, speaks out. "Friends... with our neighbours?" Saying these words seems to provoke The Count into thought, his eyes glazing over hazily as his thoughts get away from him. Imagining a horde of disgusting, unwashed peasants smiling at him with their yellow-black teeth, eyes gleaming with joy as they greet him, The Count grimaces. For some reason, the image of them handing him flowers and various other assorted gifts in a show of happiness and affection seems significantly more terrifying than them wanting his dust.
Snapping out of his thoughts, The Count looks about momentarily, making sure none of the horrifying appirations of his mind had somehow escaped into reality, before coming to a steadfast conclusion. "Right, that's it! DEFINITELY no contact. Just... go to your rooms!"
"Talking of rooms, we're swapping." Ingrid pipes in, having finally been given a good reason to speak.
Throughout the entirety of the conversation she had remained quiet, agreeing with their father on most of what he had said, and having no desire to gain his attention in this particular instance. Should she have said anything in defense or support of Vlad, not that she ever would've, she has no doubt the blame for this entire incident would be put solely upon her.
"For the last time," clarifys Vlad, "you are NEVER getting my room!!!"
Irritated massively by the entire situation, The Count shouts out with rapturous fury. "QUIET!!!! From now on, nobody living in my castle, under my roof, does ANYTHING with out my permission!"
"NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!!" The Count angrily bellows, his rage summoning thunder in the skies above the castle as he flitts behind where the two are sitting. Looking at his children, though more specifically his son and heir, the Count speaks in almost a whisper, his voice heavy with not sadness or anger, but cold dissapointment. "You're a disgrace."
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Chapter 8: 1818 words (not including this bit)
la other week, another chapter. I've been thinking that the story is progressing too slowly, given that a 20 minute episode has taken up 8 chapters, and will finish on the 9th (hopefully). I'm pretty sure it's mostly because it's the beginning of the story, and I feel like i need to set up a good, solid foundation, and establish the setting properly by describing everything really well. Considering the first episode is mainly focused on the introduction of the main cast, and the story's primary backdrop, I can't help but want to do it justice, while also getting it out of the way.
Essentially, it the story should progress much faster after the first few chapters. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, I'd appreciate some feedback and support, and I hope you have a wonderful day!
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