Miss Renfield (LostSpirit & Dr. Freon)

[Doctor December]

The Transylvanian Corner of the Carpathian Mountains
Twenty-third of November, 1896

Thanks to the dark clouds overhead, nightfall had crept its way to the mountains earlier this evening than most, and far quicker. In the village at the mountains' base, the townspeople silently and almost unanimously each expressed a surprised thought that the sun had only taken a moment to set whilst they had been looking the other way. Almost every shop, cafe, and storefront quickly closed so that their anxious keepers could scuttle back home to leave their places of business as dark as the overcast.

The only establishment still in operation in any capacity was the train station. This was the last stop it made in bleak Transylvania. In fact, within view of the boarding platform, one could even see where the tracks hastily curve to go almost back in the direction where they came. A logic-minded person would reason that this was because it was likely quite difficult to build tracks on and operate a locomotive through the jagged, steep, gray claws of rock, and the train was only moving to give itself the distance to go around them. The more superstitious, however, might agree that the train is avoiding the things within the mountains- the devils hiding in the patches of forest, waiting in the caves, or watching from the cliffs. Whatever the reason, practical or paranoid, anyone wishing to go further would need to do so by foot, horseback, or carriage.

Conveniently, through those mountains, there was only one place to go. The dirt road north of the town twisted up into the rocks and woods until it reached the red stone remains of a massive castle. Its three towers, one taller than another and it in turn taller the last by a few stories each, looked to be stable (for now) but sharp with wear. Indeed, from a distance, they might have looked like jagged rocks sprouting out themselves if not for their difference in color from the stone of the mountains.

The fog was heavy and wet and cold that night, but one could still make out the castle even from the village. Perhaps what made the villagers more uncomfortable than the weather was that for once in what seemed like years, a few of the windows in the towers flickered with warm, yellow, yet haunting light, as if for the first time in a very long time, the castle was expecting a guest.

 

[LostSpirit]

The reflection in the small hand mirror looked tired, steel grey eyes darting up and down to ensure her appearance remained immaculate. It wasn't often she was allowed to take clients, being a woman. Never mind the fact she was off to visit this particular one, doubt crossed her mind for a moment...maybe she should have brought someone with her. Just in case.

The carriage jostled, the mirror falling from her grasp, as did her thoughts. Sighing, she picked it up again, lamenting over the long journey. It was almost over, however, and by the end she would have the respect of her colleagues. It was an important deal she was closing on, or at least, she hoped she would. In the end, it would all be worth the trouble.

Glancing out the window, her eyes widened. She had been lost in her own thoughts, running her speeches over and over, and how she would and should act. The castle loomed over the land seemed to rule over, drawing you in but telling you to run at the same time.

The carriage came to a stop, she didn't hide her confusion as the door was opened for her. The winter air sucked her breath away for a moment.

"I'm sorry, where are we, and why are we stopping." She said, being polite yet trying to sound firm.

"Borgo Pass, Miss. A switch in carriages is all." Her driver wasted no time in reaching for her items to move over, one being a leather bound diary with R. M. Renfield delicately engraved on the corner.

"Its Rose. And I'll take that, thank you."

Rose was nearly falling asleep as the new carriage, drawn by four black horses, reached its destination. Her hair was coming undone, her dark brown locks hinting at long curls if only it would be released from the tight updo. Before she knew it she was heading towards the gates, her body trying to snuggle into her jacket for warmth.

 

[Doctor December]

Once Rose was out of the carriage, its much more silent driver swiftly, cruelly rolled on without saying a word, disappearing into the dark grip of the tree-cast shadows.

The breeze, though soft, was more than enough to blow the chipping, rusted gate open, as if it were being held for the lady by a ghostly, yet gentlemanly hand. Beyond it was a great stone bridge that connected the peak where the gate rested and the peak which housed the castle proper, and in between them, under the bridge, a ravine. The tall, oaken doors of the castle were illuminated by lanterns hanging from pillars on either side. The right door, like the gate, opened seemingly on its own to radiate the warm, orange light that brightened the palace's halls. Yet unlike the gate, it opened against the wind, as if the breeze that had pushed it had come from inside.

Within the door was a grand foyer, with ornate pillars stretching upward three stories, a floor of checkered marble tile, and a wide staircase that curved upward into a much more shadowy doorway on the overlooking second floor. On the walls hung steep paintings in the classical style, most portraits of knights and noblemen. The room, though bright and elegant, had a fade to its glory. The stone was smooth from wear and the surfaces dulled by a layer of dust. In a fewer of the room's highest corners, one might even make out a few blankets of cobwebs stretching from wall to wall.

A figure waited at the top of the stair, a candelabra in one of his hands. When his young guest made her way in, he was taken aback by her youth, and her beauty. His correspondence with her firm had mostly been with the older partners, and he assumed one of them would be joining him to finalize the sale of his hopeful new property. But this, this was a pleasant surprise. He stepped further into the light and made his way down the staircase. He was tall and had a sharp, thin face. His black hair, which in its natural state might have fanned out and flowed over the tips of his ears, had been combed backward and held by grease, giving it an artificial glow and slickness. He wore a black tuxedo jacket over a white shirt, white waistcoat, and dark red cravat. Though his eagerness was eating away at him with just this first sight of her, he gave the woman a slow, reserved nod and friendly smile in greeting.

"Welcome," he told her in a soft but throat-heavy voice, damped with a Romanian accent. "I am Count Dracula."

 

[LostSpirit]

Rose was quietly admiring the surroundings when he called out to her. Initially she was in silent awe of the foyer, admittingly having never seen such grandeur in her life. Then, that voice.

It instantly drew her attention, any feelings of tiredness forgotten for a moment. "Oh." It was barely a whisper as she locked onto the figure as he descended the stairs. There was an aura about him that swirled around her like a soft caress, but easily could have drowned her if it chose to.

"Thank you for the welcome, your hospitality is truly appreciated." Heat ran through her body, her cheeks flushed a soft rosy tint. Her fingers delicately unbuttoned her longer jacket. As it fell open it revealed a flowy white bloused tucked into a black waist belt and a long deep green skirt. "It's so beautiful..." Rose trailed off, her eyes glancing around the foyer before landing back on the Count.

"Forgive me, I'm Rose Renfield." She quickly removed her gloves, and took a few steps to close the gap between them. Here she was trying to finalize a deal, and she couldn't even introduce herself properly. Her lips turned up into a warm, if nervous, smile. "I never had the opportunity to speak with you previously...however I promise by the time I leave, that lovely new estate is yours."

 

[Doctor December]

She revealed a bit more of her clothing beneath her jacket, which like most of the Western World's style of the times, struck him as very stuffy and prudish, but its detail and prestige were a tantalizing betrayal of that modesty- a gift wrapping for those who might be so lucky to know the wearer in a more intimate sense and see the vulnerable person beneath the prim and proper shell of the layers of business attire.

When she complimented their surroundings, the Count took a moment to look up and scan them, but did not miss a beat to add, "But very old." He gave her a slow and cordial nod as she introduced herself. "I am very eager to find more modern surroundings in London. As you can see, the years have left this place in a state of disrepair. But come," He turned, and presented the stairs ahead of him to her with an arm extended forward to welcome her further. "I've prepared you a small supper whilst we continue business in the parlor."

He led her up the stairs and down a corridor, into a parlor illuminated by the orange glow of a fireplace. Before the mantle were two tall armchairs seated across from one another, and in between them, a small, circular table, upon which sat a bottle, a covered platter, and two small plates and sets of silverware. "I do not intend to sell this castle, of course," he continued, gesturing to one of the chairs to invite her to sit, while he himself tended to the contents of the table.

"It has been my family's for what seems like a hundred generations, and I will not be the heir to toss it away. But as the years pass, and I become the only one left, its grand size has become a lonely, empty space. And far too hard to maintain. My servants began to leave or grow too old to work, and it became hard to find new ones as these mountains became the subject of quite... unfortunate rumors of superstition. The nearest neighbors to the south will not come here for long, only when paid, and only paid handsomely at that. Its hard to find caretakers for a 'haunted palace' in a 'cursed forest." He gave a wry grin at the quotes, his eyes widening with each to solidify the tongue and cheek tone of his version of the local legends.

 

[LostSpirit]

The warmth from the fireplace was a welcomed luxury. Rose nodded politely as he spoke, the heat almost making her drowsy. Though she perked up at the mention of the rumours. She had heard a few of those as she made her way from London.

"You mean I'm to awaken at night from ghosts and ghouls wandering the halls?" She laughed softly. "I suppose that would be quite the story to take back home."

She studied him quietly as he prepared everything. There was a gracefulness to his movements, swift, yet gentle. It was interesting to observe. When she realized she was staring she pulled her gaze away, to the fire.

It was quiet for such a place, besides the sounds of their voices and the occasional cracking of the flames. It must have been quite the environment when it was full of life.

"Its a shame you can't keep the help you find..." Rose trailed off, giving a quiet sigh. "What made you choose London to find your new home in?" She asked, her eyes finding their way back to the Count with a smile.

 

[Doctor December]

The Count, now having circled around Rose's chair, was uncorking the bottle. "Oh yes," he chuckled, "Quite a story indeed..." he trailed, a vague, dark tone to his voice, but one that wouldn't be hard to mistake for sarcasm. From behind her, he took her glass and fill it with a red wine, setting it back on the table when done. "Not a believer in goblins and fairy tales yourself, I see? How very... refreshing."

Almost as if on cue, the quite air around them was cut by the rumble of thunder, followed by the faint and distant howl of an animal outside. It could have been any number of creature- owl, wolf, wild cat, but it was too far away to tell, a mile at least through the sea of shadows, rock, brush, and fog. The Count didn't even shift an eye toward the window, paying it no mind. Instead, he observed how quickly she took to his hospitality, and how relaxed she seemed to be after her long journey east as he cut a pair of slices of bread and slipped them onto her plate.

As her eyes made their way back to his with her delectable smile, he looked back on his work, not wanting her to meet his gaze. Not yet. She might find his sharp eyes more captivating than she anticipated. To distract himself, he answered her question, "In my solitude, I've grown a need to free myself from this dreary place. Not since my last wife have I had the company of another person, even in a professional nature such as this. As the apex of the modern world, London is the the ideal place to socialize, as I'm sure a beautiful young woman as yourself can testify."

Outside, the howls of the animal not only grew closer, but multiplied, as if whatever creature had formed and mobilized a pack of its kin.