'i've one last despicable kiss for you,' we hear this author of immortality say,

'its delicious, i promise

i truly have faith,' - the kind that requires nothing of him of course -, 'you can endure the repercussions

twice a lonely girl who searched within herself

to find that sort of strength to carry on

and twice the weeping female crumbles before me

in this sort of unfortunate defeat.

you really are disgustingly pretty

with your happy lips and sapphire eyes

i might've mistaken you for a small child

but lo,

before me stands every crimson wish i've ever dreamt of tasting

each promise i'd said to you (unabashed)

truthfully (and humanely) ridiculous

wake up, sleepy one

do you want to?

do you want to be?

i need no time, but i have no time for your sensible anxiety

cold yet warm you sit in that body

cold is where i always am

join me.

i am eternal, an undying creature of the night

i am frozen.'

he is blankly staring at the hollow of her throat now.

'what use is hope, child?'

in one feeble command he hears her consent

and in one feeble moment he does not hesitate

'yes,

i do suppose this is it.

i beg of you, do not be frightened.

that feeling is ephermal. sadness.'

he spits at the word.

sadness has not known this creature for many centuries.

'as what i am begins to entice you, begins to feed into you, and the transformation is complete,

it will be nothing less than foreign.

inch closer, love

i can feel your warm glow on my face now.'

he whispers eternity ever so softly and evasively in her delicate ears.

Pain begins to enter his body

he doesn't just need this,

he wants it.

and he always gets what he wants.

' we need to move along. sunlight is no friend of ours young one, and i already see the light infecting the sky.'

the young girl, a child some might say, looks up at her pursuers face.

she she's chance.

opportunity.

escape.

with foggy eyes, and a heavy (expiring) heart reaches daringly for his face

unhappiness trailing down hers.

the touch reaches his cheek and instantly hurts (in a good way)

"do it." she whispers.

Uncharacteristicly, Dracula begins to feel affection

but quickly fails to recognize it-

his body only recognizes the feed, the hunger he must silence

he begins to feel pain, although he himself does not mind the feeling

he then slowly bares his teeth near his lovely victims throat.

the girls sense of security folds, and she lets inevitability sink in.

"excellent." he ends.

and drinks.