[Dracula had piled up a great mass of snow near the gardens and packed it together well. Now, using his claws, he was slowly gouging out a rough outline of a castle. He didn't know why exactly; he had simply grown bored of flying finally, but was loath to return to his quarters. Marishka's company had gone cold and nagging; every time that she saw
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[He twitches, and murmurs under his breath.] No.
Why not?
Not her. Leave her alone. [He has to pause in his carving for a moment, and swallows sudden dryness in his throat.]
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Even after she sees the claws, she takes a couple steps more, glancing at him only for a second before taking in the snow. ]
What are you making?
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Can't you smell her...?
She's offered her veins before...she knows her place. Take her. You can bury the body in the snow and no one will know where she is for months!
[He twitches as if something has bitten him and shakes his head once. Absolutely not.]
Are you...well?
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