She blinked, opened her mouth slightly. Nothing came out. Tears spilled out again. “I… she…” he voice was wobbly, barely audible. This was so strange. Letting out a shaky sigh, she turned away. “I need to do something,” she said, and walked out of the room.
He nodded. "As you wish, I'll be waiting here though." he said. He had all the time in the world, portrait safely tucked away at home where nobody would find it. "I'll be here for you, if you need me." he murmured.
She didn’t respond. The journey from the bedroom to the forest was a blur. The next thing she knew she was in the flower meadow, the moonlight washing everything in silvery blue light. It was a small clearing, filled with spike heath and yellow monkshood and alpine bells. Mina wandered through it, picking the ones she thought he’d like. There was a patch of small ones with beautiful, spidery white petals. She picked out a few, and after collecting enough to make a small bouquet in her arms, she crossed over to the other side of the meadow. Her love was waiting for her among the trees.
Dorian managed to fall asleep in that time, however, with both eyes open for this occasion. Any movement, he’d pick up. And he’d be ready, should Mina choose to betray him. His chest didn’t rise and fall as he slept, he didn’t technically need to breathe anymore and he forgot to when asleep, doing it when awake only out of habit. He looked like a dead thing.
(Oh I have a question. How old are they exactly at this point?)
He waited for her, deep in the ground, covered by overturned earth. A wooden cross was planted above him at the head, and older, some dead flowers were blanketed around it and his resting place. A necklace hung from the cross as well, and his diary, along with his engagement ring, sat at its base.
Mina quietly drew near. She had gone into the nearby river to wash off any blood, so now she was clean except for the somewhat faded stain on her nightgown. After sprinkling some petals and setting the new flowers around him, she laid herself down.
“Hello,” she whispered. Her eyes went glassy. She saw nothing. “I miss you.” A lump formed in her throat. They were both dead, but she could not rest like he could. “I’m sorry.” Tears slipped from her eyes, but they were cold. She did not stir as fireflies and moths landed on her, curious about this dead, weeping thing. “I love you.” She was awash in memories, memories she knew were real, because they were good and lovely and from a past she could never get back. They were good and lovely and yet horrible and wretched and regretful. Being in his arms, receiving his letters, eating with him. The kisses, the hands in his or her hair, the touches to the waist or the shoulder. The letter. The letter, stained with blood. The figure, holding him like a slab of meat as it bent down and—
Her eyes burned red. She did not think anymore. To do so would be dangerous. The tears flowed like waterfalls, and her body shook with silent sobs. Some of the moths fluttered away. She raised her hand to her mouth and bit down, to curb the pain coursing through her.
She stayed like that for a while. Soon blood dripped from her hand. The few moths came back and started drinking from it. Then her eyes faded to green. Numbness returned. Perhaps even calmness. She stopped biting, released her hand. “I love you.”
Carefully, slowly, she stood. The insects flew away, but some came back like wandering children. She moved away, her attention moved to the moths on her hand.
“Oh, don’t do that, loves, you’ll…” One by one, the little winged creatures expired and fell from her hand. She sighed, and let the earth bury them. The others knew not to get close to her hand now, but they still rested on or flew around her. She made her way back to the castle.
(Oof kinda made myself cry for a sec)
(Oh I have a question. How old are they exactly at this point?)
(Probably Dorian would be in his like 40s-early 50s?? Idk??)
(Oof kinda made myself cry for a sec)
(Oh nooo!!)
(Lol I’m ok. Thanks! Just thought I’d ask)
(Np!)
He waited for her, deep in the ground, covered by overturned earth. A wooden cross was planted above him at the head, and older, some dead flowers were blanketed around it and his resting place. A necklace hung from the cross as well, and his diary, along with his engagement ring, sat at its base.
Mina quietly drew near. She had gone into the nearby river to wash off any blood, so now she was clean except for the somewhat faded stain on her nightgown. After sprinkling some petals and setting the new flowers around him, she laid herself down.
“Hello,” she whispered. Her eyes went glassy. She saw nothing. “I miss you.” A lump formed in her throat. They were both dead, but she could not rest like he could. “I’m sorry.” Tears slipped from her eyes, but they were cold. She did not stir as fireflies and moths landed on her, curious about this dead, weeping thing. “I love you.” She was awash in memories, memories she knew were real, because they were good and lovely and from a past she could never get back. They were good and lovely and yet horrible and wretched and regretful. Being in his arms, receiving his letters, eating with him. The kisses, the hands in his or her hair, the touches to the waist or the shoulder. The letter. The letter, stained with blood. The figure, holding him like a slab of meat as it bent down and—
Her eyes burned red. She did not think anymore. To do so would be dangerous. The tears flowed like waterfalls, and her body shook with silent sobs. Some of the moths fluttered away. She raised her hand to her mouth and bit down, to curb the pain coursing through her.
She stayed like that for a while. Soon blood dripped from her hand. The few moths came back and started drinking from it. Then her eyes faded to green. Numbness returned. Perhaps even calmness. She stopped biting, released her hand. “I love you.”
Carefully, slowly, she stood. The insects flew away, but some came back like wandering children. She moved away, her attention moved to the moths on her hand.
“Oh, don’t do that, loves, you’ll…” One by one, the little winged creatures expired and fell from her hand. She sighed, and let the earth bury them. The others knew not to get close to her hand now, but they still rested on or flew around her. She made her way back to the castle.
Dorian eventually got bored of resting, Mina had been hours and he didn't technically need sleep to function as lovely of a luxury as it was. He got up, began to root through her things, finding piles of diaries filled up with decades worth of experience to look through. He began to read, they were obviously Mina's and he was sure they'd contain answers, if only he could find them.
If Dorian looked long enough, he would notice that the oldest diary, which was frayed and the pages yellowed, stopped abruptly somewhere near the end. The date was too muddled from age to make out, but the next oldest diary started some twenty years ago.
Mina really, really hoped that the immortal human had left. Well, that was a lie. She didn’t particularly care about him, but it would be nice if he left her alone.
Sadly, that was not the case. When she came back to her room, he was still there.
“What are you doing?” She asked. There was still a single moth left on her. It was a small, brown thing that crawled along her shoulder.
Dorian looked to Mina. "Snooping around, of course. I take it you had a nice picnic or some other sentimental shit out in the woods? You're filthy." he picked up the oldest diary, reading from somewhere near the end. "I have searched endlessly for a cure, but van Helsing tells me it is impossible." he began, then read silently further. "Were you truly this suicidal? Never mind." he said, shrugging. "It's probably none of my business anyways."
(Shut up Dorian)
(He really does not know when to stop lmao. I should honestly find a way to dispose of him in our other RP but I feel like Mina doing it at the climax of the story would be most epic.)
(Yeah, for the League I think it would be best if we waited till everyone is assembled, and then kill him off at the climax)
(Indeed. Then have everyone deal with the fallout. Because if he goin down he takin down everyone else with him.)
Her eyes hardened. “Why?” With almost inhuman speed, she came up beside him and snatched the diary from his hands. “It’s not. None of it is.” She put it and the others back in their place and shut the drawer where she kept them.
(I wonder if it would be more cathartic too, not just for Mina anyway)
Dorian moved back, lazily, like an old lion might. "Touchy. But understandably so. It must hurt, having lost so much. I know what it's like to lose people. Sibyl Vane, another. Probably the only woman I ever loved. She killed herself, you know. And so much potential lost! I just… I understand, with the death thing. It hurts." he didn't mean much of what he said kindly as a rule, but Dorian knew Mina would be receptive to this, or at least, hopefully she would be.
Her eyes narrowed, but then a sigh was released from her lips. Already, she was tired. At least she was more clear headed now. “Yes. Very painful.” Her eyes drifted, and she noticed the moth now crawling down her arm. Scooping it up with her other hand, she stared at it for a moment, then released it into the air. Hopefully it could find a way back outside.
“Who are you?” She asked suddenly. All she knew of him was that he was immortal, like her, but alive and human. That, and that he was astoundingly violent and persistent. Or at least, he was capable of being so.
"Call me handsome." a beat. "Oh, you're serious. Well, Dorian. Of the Gray family, much as I hate to admit it." he said, smiling slyly, like Mina ought to know who he was. "That's my name, if that's what you wanted to know. But if you had more to ask me… well, I'm sure I could arrange an exchange of information in some capacity."
She crossed her arms over her chest. The whole ‘socializing with another human being’ thing was coming back to her, little by little. She did have more questions. More and more by the second.
“An exchange of information… yes. I like that.” Then she glanced down at her bloodstained nightgown. “I’m going to change first. Leave.”
Although maintaining personal hygiene was difficult for her these days, she didn’t like feeling dirty. Not only did she look dirty, but she felt it, and that was worse.
Dorian left, closing the great oak door to her room behind him. He stayed outside, waiting for Mina to call him back, not minding the bloodstains on his tattered clothes, how he basically lacked a shirt right now and how that particular fact just might freeze him to death in this miserable castle.
When Mina called him back in some time later, she was wearing a dark gray dress that appeared to be from the 1830s, with a wide neckline and gigot sleeves. Her hair was down and she was in the middle of brushing it. She had remembered while dressing herself that you did something like this when you had a guest over. Though, Dorian was quite uninvited.
Dorian looked Mina up and down, seemingly approving of something. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes? So, are we going to discuss terms, then?" he said, smirking quite obviously.
Mina was not smiling. “Yes. I have many questions, but I know you are curious about me as well.” Setting down the hairbrush, she then twisted her hair into a simple bun. She had taken off her glasses so they wouldn’t interfere with her hair, and now she put them back on. She went over to the bed and sat down.
Dorian didn't respond to that at first. "You'd look better without the glasses, you really are an old crone, aren't you? Not as if I can claim otherwise for myself, but at least I have some dignity about it." he laughed. "But yes, I would like to get to know you, Mina."
She raised an eyebrow. She had noticed that he always seemed to do this; make a jab at her for her appearance or emotions and the like, seemingly at random. “Well, I’m sorry to say that my… my vampirism has done nothing for my vision,” she shrugged.
Silence then washed over her for a moment. After thinking, she looked up to him. “May we establish a pact of mutual trust?” She asked. “Both of us should be entitled to withhold information if we wish, and should either of us use the information we learn against the other, then…” she paused. “Well, if it were you, then I would have no qualms about having you as a meal. But if it were me, what would you do?”