FireeWolff

One Week Later The thralls and heavy cream arrive just as The Duke said. You feel guilty every time you harvest the poor, brain-dead humans, your fellow humans, but it's keeping you from joining them. Over the course of a week, you keep the house, put the food in the proper stores, and hide the heavy cream in the cooler where the raw meat is kept. “Goddamned sons of bitches!” You hear enraged screaming and crashing from the entryway. “Oh fuck,” you whisper to yourself. The journey was a failure in some way. The rumors were false, mistake or outright lies, but that didn't matter. The Dimitrescu daughter was not where she was supposed to be. Frantically, you prepare a cup of wine mixed with blood and the contents of the flask. “Alright, Duke,” you mutter as the goblet bubbles and froths for a moment before settling down. As quickly as you can, you make your way upstairs to see Lady Alcina Dimitrescu standing in the doorway. Her eyes are black pits of rage, veins carrying blood as