Dark & Cold {Dracula}

[Elsa]

The night, with its slight chill and light breeze, felt almost welcoming to Elsa after so much time under the warm sun. Despite her best efforts, she still felt out of place out there in Anna and Kristoff's world of light. She was fairly certain they were staying, at least until the portals were fixed, but likely beyond that, far beyond that given the way things were turning out. Elsa knew the potentials there: maybe there were people, people like her, people around whom she could grow to know, who could grow to know her.

Elsa paused at a fountain, studying it. The air lightly kissed her skin, caught a few loose strands of platinum from her hair. But Elsa kept otherwise still, her mind working. She could just see the shape. Stepping forward, she raised her hands, calling forth ice and snow. She waved and bobbed, drawing crystalline shapes in the dark of knight, ice collecting and reflecting starlight.

So enraptured was Elsa that she didn't notice anyone coming, but considering who it was, knowing might not have helped...

Vlad Dracula

[Vlad Dracula]

Dracula's strategy for world conquest (starting with this town and school, of course, no need to get carried away until the basics were squared away) had changed a little over the past week due to the circumstances. Initially, he had hoped to just slide right back into his old spot, luring students away from school here and there to whisper dark promises to them of power and glory and belonging. Then he'd gotten back here, and there hadn't been even a tenth of the people who used to be, and the school wasn't even running, so he had, out of necessity, adapted. He was pretty good at that by now; you had to be if you wanted to survive as long as he had.

HIs plan now was to catch as many people as he could before they synced up with the rest of the population, to speak to them before they had a chance to get to the school, before that irritating crowd of do-gooders recruited them to the cause of peace and restoration or whatever they were preaching these days. It was always the same handful of issues with that crowd. Anyway, this common area seemed to be a hotspot for individuals arriving, being kicked through their portals or stepping through intentionally, however they came to be there.

Most of them were boring and forgettable. A lot of them weren't even sure why they were here, and didn't seem to demonstrate any useful traits whatsoever. But tonight...tonight there was a girl doing things even Dracula found fascinating. And that was saying a lot; not many things fascinated him anymore. He watched her work from a good distance away, trying to get a read on her general demeanor before finally deciding to approach her. He couldn't detect a lot, which both irritated and enthralled him; he could tell that she was wrapped up in what she was doing, but other than that, he couldn't pick up on much.

"Remarkable," he said, stepping out of the shadows. He didn't want to startle her too badly, some people got cranky with you when you made them jump. But there weren't a lot of good ways to announce yourself when stepping out of the shadows in the night. "You have an incredible gift."

[Elsa]

The quiet voice made Elsa start. She didn't jump, didn't whirl, there was simply a slight dip in the arching pattern of intricate ice and snow show formed. The queen twirled her hand for a moment, finishing off a bit of the intricate, sloping structure, built on and around the fountain, and she turned to look toward the shadows.

At first Elsa didn't even see anyone standing there. It took her a few moments to realize that someone had indeed come out of the shadows and stood there under the starlit sky, looking toward her. She looked toward the creation, then back at him. "Some people call it that," she replied, keeping her voice even. "Others have called it a curse."

She considered him, wondering if she should be readying a blast of cold. It would only take a motion, a thrust, a throw, and she could freeze him, right? But who was to say there weren't people around here who could do the same? "Care to give me the pleasure of your name, good sir?" she asked, falling just short of using her most regal tone.

[Vlad Dracula]

"I know a good deal of curses," Dracula said, admiring her handiwork, "and this, my dear girl, does not look like a curse to me. This is a work of art. But people are often quick to condemn that which they do not understand." That was perhaps his least favorite thing about humanity; they were suspicious, they were judgmental, they shied away from things that they should admire and embrace. (Although to be fair, Dracula did have a tendency to do serious bodily harm to people once he thought they had adequately admired him).

Oh, she was polite, wasn't she? Dracula did appreciate good manners. Just because he was a murderous vampire who was determined to get his way by any means necessary didn't mean he couldn't be courtly while he was doing it. He was nobility, after all. He hesitated to mention that when introducing himself, though; there were all kinds of royalty around this place back in the day, and he had to believe it would remain that way. This girl herself had an air of aristocracy about her, and he wasn't going to swagger around insisting on titles when chances were good that every other person would be of a higher station than he was anyway.

"I'm Vlad," he said, extending a gloved hand towards her. "And you?"

[Elsa]

A work of art? Elsa looked back at what she'd made. Art. She hadn't heard what she'd made referred to like that. That would make her an artist by extension, wouldn't it? The idea pleased Elsa some, more than she probably cared to admit. And it almost overrode the last bit that the man said. The bit about people condemning what they don't quite understand.

"That," she said, looking back to him, "is the voice of experience," which Elsa knew full well, having heard similar words and the tone coming from her own. She saw the hand, noted the glove, and slid her own into it. Elsa didn't shake, however, but instead waited patiently, almost expectantly. He'd know what to do.

"Elsa," she offered, leaving off the other titles, at least for the time being. She needed to feel out this situation a bit more. He had manners, but also experience with neglect, and he had sneaked up on her. That and perhaps the memory of a certain prince still lingered in Elsa's mind, painting all well-mannered, handsome young man the same colors.

[Vlad Dracula]

The voice of experience...yes, that was a fairly accurate description, Dracula thought, a cold smile of amusement turning up the corners of his lips, though he didn't part them yet. He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across her knuckles. Maybe with her, he thought, the gloves weren't necessary; a person like this seemed less likely to make the your hands are like ice comments he got from so many other people. He ducked his head in a short bow, then released her hand.

"It's a pleasure," he said, "to meet such a talented artist such as yourself. It isn't every day I come across something this interesting. And I have seen more things than most." He stepped a little closer to the fountain, reaching out a hand before hesitating and looking back at her. Perhaps it was rude to touch someone's ice sculpture without asking. Dracula didn't ask permission for most things he did, but this felt a little different.

"May I? I don't want to break it," he said, pulling the glove off of his right hand and holding it with his left.

[Elsa]

An artist? Elsa had to quirk a brow at that, her gaze once more flicking toward the sculpture. Then again, even Kristoff had called what she'd made back in Arendelle impressive, and she'd made something like Olaf. Nonetheless: "You flatter me," she replied, making sure to withdraw her fingers, not rude, but certainly not wanting the lingering touch. Touch bothered her at the best of times, and this was not one of those moments.

Elsa kept her gaze locked on the polite man, still wondering precisely what he was doing, what his intentions were. She could see him approaching the sculpture, and she had a sudden almost possessive, protective moment. She quickly dismissed it, and almost as quickly nodded.

"Yes, by all means," she said, waving. "It's probably going to be there a while, but I don't think I made anything too slender. So long as you aren't intending to break it, you probably won't. And if you do," she shrugged. "I never run out of ice."

[Vlad Dracula]

Dracula wasn't any more eager to maintain physical contact with most strangers than they were with him. If they didn't know what he was, they were usually put off by how cold his skin was, and if they knew what he was, well, there was a good chance they weren't strangers. Ordinarily, he maintained contact as long as was required by etiquette, which was why he noticed when she was the first one to pull away. Perhaps nothing of note, but Dracula was nothing if not attentive to details.

He ran his fingertips along a ridge of ice, tracing a geometric series of lines, fascinated. "You can do this indefinitely?" The things he could do with power like that...

"You've got such potential here," he said. He had a whole lot of ideas as to the great and terrible things a person could do with power over ice and whatever else she could control. Water, maybe? He wasn't sure, but he certainly would love to test it. "Tell me, if you don't mind my asking, can you work with ice that already exists, or do you simply create these magnificent things from nothing?"

[Elsa]

Elsa frowned. "I haven't exactly had the opportunity to test it," she admitted. Something in the way he spoke, the way he admired the sculpture, it unnerved her more than she cared to admit. She kept her attention focused on the polite man, more cautious now. "I once created a place of ice and sent a kingdom into a lasting winter," she offered, again keeping her voice cautious. How much should she be telling him? But if he stumbled into her sister or Kristoff or god forbid Olaf, then he'd find that information out quick enough. Best to give him some of the obvious bits now, feed him at least a little information.

Potential? Again, Elsa found herself wondering about his phrasing. There was something... desirous in the way he spoke, coveting. "I've mostly been creating my own," she ventured, stepping up and around him, putting the sculpture between them. Her icy eyes locked onto him. "Tell me, good sir, are you familiar with abilities such as mine? Perhaps you have some unique gifts of your own?"

Because if he was going to be prying, Elsa wanted to get some of her own. Just a little prying, just to see if she'd encountered someone else who had some sort of... gift.

[Vlad Dracula]

Well, that was certainly an interesting story. Dracula was impressed, and he let it show on his face, not bothering to guard his expression as vigilantly as he usually would have. There was nothing wrong with a little flattery, and you could flatter people without them knowing that was what you were doing, if you were good enough. "A lasting winter, hm? Dark and cold and terrible in all the best ways?" Dracula loved winter, for his own part. Less daylight, less danger, and it wasn't as if the cold was much of a nuisance to him.

Abilities, yes, he had those. He could list them, but it was just so boring to do it that way, as if he were presenting himself for a job or something. "I have seen some talent in my time," he nodded. "Nothing like this, exactly. I have known people who could see the future, people who can fly, those who can transform themselves into other creatures at will. And some of us..." he gave her a sly little smile, something personal, as if he were sharing a secret only with her, "some of us are immune to the grasp of time." He let those words settle, walked around to the other side of the fountain, still running his hand along the surface of the ice.

"I am always fascinated by these things," he told her. "How people came to have the abilities they have, how they choose to use them."

[Elsa]

The more this man spoke, the less Elsa trusted him. He seemed far too pleased about the idea of an eternal winter. "Yes, I'm told it was quite dark," she said flatly, resisting the urge to physically pull back from him. He had answers, and if it was one thing that Elsa was craving, it was answers. Part of her knew that he could tell her what she wanted to hear and she'd simply believe it, but that voice was drowned in raw desire.

Sure enough, he fed that. Talents, flight, precognition, even the ability to defy the march of time. That smile though, it slid a cold finger down Elsa's spine. Cold, she appreciated, but the shiver only grew her unease, tensed her body.

"Yes, that is what it comes down to, isn't it?" she asked, eyes flicking toward her creation. "We can have all the abilities we want, but it only matters what we choose to do with them. So many are doubleedged swords. Mine, for example," she rolled her wrist, almost as if pulling, and a sharp icicle sprouted from her sculpture, just to the side of Dracula. "I can create things both beautiful and deadly," she gave him a tight smile, waving her hand again. "And if someone could defy time, they'd have years to figure out what's best, now wouldn't they?"

[Vlad Dracula]

He watched in fascination as she drew another point of ice out of the sculpture, eyes flickering from the ice to her face, admiration obvious in his eyes, tinged with the slightest hint of envy. "Have you decided what you want to do with yours?" he asked, tracing the new addition with the edge of his thumb. Asking someone how they felt about world domination was a delicate matter, you couldn't just come out and say it like that, you had to feel out their opinions on power in general, that sort of thing.

"Years," he echoed, nodding. Years to find out what was best for himself, to develop plenty of opinions about what was best for everyone else, or at least how they could best help him accomplish the first thing. "Years to make mistakes, and learn from them."

Like trusting vampires - that was rarely not a mistake, he knew it, and he had to compensate for that. Particularly intuitive people knew not to trust him, and when someone was already wary, trying to prove you were trustworthy generally had the opposite effect. Instead, you had to convince them you were worth the risk, that what you had to offer was valuable enough that they had to take the chance.

"If you could live forever, what would you do?" he asked, meeting her eyes searchingly. "With the things you can do..." He gestured towards the ice. "You have endless potential, I think. What would you want?"

[Elsa]

"I'm still working that out," Elsa said flatly, watching as he felt the edge. He hadn't balked; if anything, her display seemed to make her abilities more appealing. Was there some sort of bloodthirsty nature here, lying just under the surface of the manners and politeness? It reminded Elsa far too much of Hans.

Years: that about covered it. He'd been around for some time, and apparently had quite a bit of experience. Could she somehow learn from him? Because he clearly knew, clearly had some idea, clearly could answer those questions she was starving for.

Elsa looked to the sculpture, thinking her own thoughts, and on the questions Dracula spun for her. "I don't think I'd live forever," she said bluntly. "I have too many friends and family. I've tried living alone," she looked back to Dracula, "it doesn't work out well." she looked back. "I suppose I'd master my craft, were I forced. There's plenty of opportunity to create. Is it not far better to create than to destroy?"

[Vlad Dracula]

There were plenty of things Dracula was wary of. Wood, for example; he had met a wood nymph once who had gone around threatening him with pointy tree branches, and that had worried him at the time. But ice...ice was not one of those things that concerned him. It interested him, to be sure, but it didn't frighten him personally. He was much more interested in how it could frighten other people, how it could be used to get other things he wanted.

"Living alone is not as enjoyable as people make it sound," he agreed. "I have spent my share of time alone. Everything is a little more interesting when you have the right person to share it with." That sounded disgustingly romantic, but it wasn't entirely false. Dracula appreciated his alone time as much as the next man, but he liked having people around, even if they almost never stayed around for long (and that usually wasn't their choice).

Better to create than to destroy...well, that was a matter of perspective. He had done plenty of destroying in his life, but he had done some creating as well, and he was quite fond of most of the things he had created, even if he wasn't in touch with any of them anymore. "You may be right," he said, rubbing his fingertips together, feeling the cold between them. "I think, though, that sometimes, you have to destroy in order to create. Sometimes, you have to break things down to their basic elements, or clear them away completely in order to create something even more beautiful. I think too many people are afraid of creative destruction."

[Elsa]

Right person? Was he attempting to flirt with her? You should be reacting then, shouldn't you? A darkly mysterious man who appreciates your art and has made it quite clear that he admires your power and your appearance. Aren't there stories that insist upon your heart fluttering right now? Is it really just your unease about Hans, or are you hiding something else, Queen Elsa?

Elsa fought her own frustration at the rebellious thoughts, keeping her cool gaze locked upon the mysterious man, noting the finger rubbing. "Quite an appealing metaphor to use around someone who has skills in winter,' she allowed, arching her brows. "After all, that is the very excuse and reason for winter's existence. To let everything sweep away to be renewed with each passing year. But that's rather more natural as opposed to not, is it not? Or does that all start to blend as you get older?"

Elsa again felt the silent urge to just ask him what he truly wanted. Not. Yet. She had to know if he could possibly teach her. "So," she said, plunging for that, "you've seen abilities such as mine? Have you perchance met anyone who'd mastered their skills? Or is it all just the wild sort that cast realms into icy winter until they're inevitable destroyed by plucky heroes?"

Which had nearly happened to Elsa, and might if the story had been spun by another author.