[ There's a little in the hold on the topic of Carmilla, some older. Most is new, added by Trevor over the last year, based upon their short encounter with her and the word of anyone he found to ask. By all his measurements, she shouldn't be recovered yet. She should still be in hiding at sea. They were meant to have another year, at least. She'd been gathering up her fledglings any time her ship made port, presumably in preparation for whatever conflict awaited, but it shouldn't have come so soon.
The answer comes once they enter Austria. Those vampires not loyal to Carmilla are fleeing into neighbouring countries. Those loyal to Carmilla speak of her swift recovery as a sign of her power and make little mention of the missing vampire Godbrand. Those few that Alucard and Sypha manage to find as they flee the country tell a different story.
Dracula never made fledglings, but if he had, even he would have never devoured them for power.
Carmilla's home is much as it was when Alucard fled it. Smaller than Dracula's castle, less like a living thing, perhaps less imposing to someone who doesn't think of Dracula's castle as home. It's still a terrible thing. The gardens are in full bloom, even so early in spring, alive with the blues and whites and deep greens of plants best not touched even through the safety of gloves. Beyond them, the castle itself looms tall and dark and ancient, with towers extending from it like thorns. A shrivelled figure hangs from one of those towers, swaying in the wind - Carmilla's sire, if rumour is to be believed.
The gates are unlocked, and the front door opens as Sypha and her totally-a-dog approach. A window is also open, several stories in the air - a tiny one, only large enough to a child to squeeze through.
no subject
The answer comes once they enter Austria. Those vampires not loyal to Carmilla are fleeing into neighbouring countries. Those loyal to Carmilla speak of her swift recovery as a sign of her power and make little mention of the missing vampire Godbrand. Those few that Alucard and Sypha manage to find as they flee the country tell a different story.
Dracula never made fledglings, but if he had, even he would have never devoured them for power.
Carmilla's home is much as it was when Alucard fled it. Smaller than Dracula's castle, less like a living thing, perhaps less imposing to someone who doesn't think of Dracula's castle as home. It's still a terrible thing. The gardens are in full bloom, even so early in spring, alive with the blues and whites and deep greens of plants best not touched even through the safety of gloves. Beyond them, the castle itself looms tall and dark and ancient, with towers extending from it like thorns. A shrivelled figure hangs from one of those towers, swaying in the wind - Carmilla's sire, if rumour is to be believed.
The gates are unlocked, and the front door opens as Sypha and her totally-a-dog approach. A window is also open, several stories in the air - a tiny one, only large enough to a child to squeeze through.
Obviously, both of these are traps. ]