Post by Vlad Dracula on Oct 5, 2017 9:15:13 GMT -5
Count Vlad Dracula
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Name: Count Vlad Dracula
Nickname: Vlad, Drac, Count, Oh god please no
Gender: Male
Age: Immortal. Quite old.
Sexuality: Sexual
Fairytale: Dracula
Year: Resident
Face Claim: Jamie Bamber
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Personality: Dracula, on a good day, is charming, seductive, and well-mannered. On a bad day, he's manipulative, dark, and extremely bad-tempered. He has a nearly bipolar nature that is consistently confusing to those around him. One moment, he'll be friendly and flirtatious, and the next, he'll fly into a homicidal, bloodlust-induced rage. While he likes to excuse his behavior with the nature of his existence, the truth is, he acts that way sometimes even when he's not hungry in the slightest.
He lives by his own set of rules, and has nearly died by them a few times as well, having a tendency to try to inflict his own ideals upon others. His manipulative nature, when combined with his vampiric gift for hypnosis, can be extremely dangerous, although he has misused it enough over the years to have gotten a little tired of just "playing around." These days, he only uses it for things that are very important to him. He is extremely jealous and possessive, and prone to lash out, physically or verbally, at people who threaten to take away things he believes belong to him.
Appearance: Unsettling. That's the word that might first come to mind when one takes their first look at Dracula. He's not bad-looking, some women would tell you quite the opposite, but there's just something about him that breathes danger, warns you that there might be something a little darker than you might expect. His skin is the characteristically pale tone most people have come to expect of vampires, and while his fangs are not clearly apparent in passing, they're definitely there, and quite visible if he smiles too broadly. As he rarely smiles, this isn't much of a problem.
Dracula dresses in a somewhat antiquated style at times, which is the source of some amusement for a few of his acquaintances. He's perfectly aware of modern fashion trends; he just likes to ignore them fifty percent of the time. Jeans and t-shirts are not incredibly dignified, and most of the time, he'll at least wear slacks and a casual button up shirt. He is not in the slightest bit embarrassed as to his own nature, and makes no attempt to conceal his more vampiric features.
History: Not much is really known about Dracula before he showed up at Avalon, claiming a fierce desire to learn of magic and his own abilities. He tells stories of his own transformation, but there are details that change every time he does, and no one's really sure which one, if any, holds the real truth. He spent exactly one school year pretending to be a diligent student, pretending to apply himself to his studies, while mostly skulking around seducing people and basking in the overall magical glow of the place. He developed a plan, then. He would insinuate himself into the society of this town, make himself a valued, respected member of their little world, and he would work his way into a leadership position at the school. And then, when he had them all under his spell, he would start to turn their precious students, he would raise up his own army of vampires, many of whom already possessed magical abilities, and from there...well, that was a good starting point.
Before he could really even get started, though, the portals malfunctioned and he found himself back in his homeland, where he had long ago been shunned and forced into isolating himself. The people of Transylvania wanted nothing to do with his wicked ways, and he knew that, so for ten years, he fed and slept as unobtrusively as he could. It was a wretched existence, but his whole plan had been upended and here he was, forced to make do with what he had.
And then, the portals returned...and so did Dracula, along with all of his ambition and evil plans...
Other: Noooothing.
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Sample Post: There was an echo of a feeling, a faint reminiscence of the things he had felt when he had been human. He remembered the feeling of breathlessness, of needing to inhale and being unable to catch quite enough breath to satisfy his needy lungs. And somehow...in spite of the fact that he would never need air again, that was what he felt in this moment. Breathless. Because the way human beings needed air, the way they began to gasp and panic without it, the way they did desperate, even violent things to get it when they didn't have it...that was the only way Dracula could describe the way he needed Tulio.
Dracula was, as we have mentioned, used to getting the things he wanted. And he had never gotten over the sting of Tulio walking away, had never adjusted to that, had never wanted that, no matter how easily he seemed to pretend that he did. It was a lie, the last...decades, he had lived decades in a lie because he could not bring himself to admit that something he had really wanted had gotten away. He had gone for years maintaining the careless façade that well, he had been fine with Tulio leaving, and he had let him because it just didn't matter. He could find someone else.
And that had been a lie. Of all the lies Dracula had ever told, this one was the bitterest, this one was the most grievous, because he had even tried to fool himself with it. Lying to himself had been destructive, it had eaten away at the parts of his heart he tried to pretend he didn't have, it had awakened darker parts of him that he kept locked away, and it had brought him closer to his humanity than he had been since the day he'd been turned.
Because the longer he stood there, the more convinced he became that it didn't matter if Tulio were to take him back, anything was better than keeping himself in this limbo, in this state of dishonesty and pain.
The metal of the door against his forehead was..was it cold? He wondered at the fact that he could even really feel cold anymore. He lifted his other hand, put it against the door on the other side of his face, and he wondered what he could say to make this right. Certainly he could think of a hundred things to say that would start the process, but none of them that his pride would allow him to say. Vlad Dracula did not apologise, especially when he still felt that he had been equally wronged long before the trespass he had committed himself. But he had to ask himself - what was more important? Tulio, or his pride?
He groaned out loud, possibly audible through the door, and he tore himself away from it, started back down the hall towards his own quarters, walked away.
He made it fifteen feet before he stopped dead in his tracks, fists clenched at his sides tight enough to have shattered anything in their grasp, and he stood for a moment, waging war with himself.
Then he turned around, strode back to the door, and slammed one fist into it, hard enough that the metal bent beneath his hand, leaving a vaguely rounded indent in the surface of it. His lips parted, fangs extended, and he growled, deep in his throat before willing himself back into control.
I was wrong. The words were there. They were the right ones...they didn't imply anyone's sole guilt, they didn't apologize. They were a statement of fact. Whether Tulio had been wrong, too, Dracula knew that he had done the younger vampire wrong as well. I was wrong. Wrong to try to hurt you the way I have been wounded. Wrong to try to replace you. Wrong to ever think that I could. Wrong to let you leave me in the first place.
"I was wrong." he murmured. It didn't even sound like his voice, but there it was, there the words were, set loose in the air, into the space between them. And in case it hadn't done the gravity of the situation justice, he raised his voice, a little too loud, laying his hand over the dent he'd made in the door. "I was wrong."
