the count

Followers’ Favorite Vampire Countdown

20. Count Orlok - Nosferatu

"What was he like with me?" He spoke the question out loud, but it had been him just thinking outwardly. A hint of a smile lifted onto his lips. "I always thought he seemed to have confidence in spades. Maybe that was what drew me to him in the first place." As much as Ezekiel always felt like he had something to prove, it still felt like those things he wanted to prove would be done no matter what obstacle stood in his way. "I would never classify what he did as cheating though. You do what you must to accomplish the goal you set out for yourself. That is what Ezekiel always did and that was what he did until..." His mouth shut as he stopped speaking. With a clear of his throat, he held the empty wine glass up to the witch in a cheers. "Thank you for sharing that with me. Feel free to visit whenever you desire. My castle is open to you." He got up from his seat. "Enjoy the party. He would have wanted you to." Ezekiel would have wanted Hakan to stop moping about, too. The best thing he could do right now was go have some fun.

The party had raged till... Napoleon wasn't sure how long the party had raged until, the last thing he remembered was being drunk on the roof when he'd been half naked and watching the sun rise. It was wet now, and cold; Napoleon shivered as he sat up and faced the shafts of the waning afternoon light. His head felt like someone was firing a paintball gun inside, or like someone was kicking a football at the side of his head again and again. "What the fuck-" Napoleon said with a groan as he stood on shaky limbs, there were people strewn all over the place, the lawn was- well this looked like it had been a nice place but it was going to take a week to clean up now. "dude, what fucking day is it?"

The aesthetic here was aesthetic-ing, Venerio had always venerated the sort of macabre vampires that lurked in their castles, only descending upon the village to feed. He'd been projecting that image for a long time but UberEats made it hard to maintain when tacos were just an order away. Not to mention nobody ever talked about how lonely it got. Venerio was still making himself more at home in his leg of Hakan's castle, for a long time he'd wanted to get to know his sire's sire, and it felt like now might be his chance. The Count himself was actually terrifying though. "This place is so cool," Venerio said as he noticed the Count lingering nearby, judging him? Making sure he wasn't breaking anything? Thinking about killing him? Venerio couldn't be sure. "I won't change anything, I promise you won't even know I'm here." He'd have to remember not to open Grindr while he was here, that'd be a hard sell.

Asher had died pretty early on, but the world was back, Hakan had lost his progeny, and here they all were. It was a great season for a funeral, or many, but they were all dead anyway. He'd found Hakan in a corner, away from his little perch where he'd been openly mourning. Asher had never felt that kind of loss before, not until that end of the world thing, and he didn't want to feel that again. "Rager of the century. I think he'd like it. Zeke."

In a way, Gael had his own sense of clarity. He had time to reflect in the years wiped away on his life as a thrall. When the world ended, it was pretty much all he had. Now that he got a second chance, some might consider it a waste for him to want to return to a normal that was so taboo, to begin with, but Gael knew what he needed. The world lost its color when he wasn't giving his all to a vampire. So long as he remembered that wasn't just a source of nourishment, he could continue his life in a way that didn't spit on everything Zeke had wanted for him. He'd mourn properly, in his own time, but for now, Gael wanted to do his part to heal Hakan's suffering.

Hakan was never surprised by Gael's willingness to give his blood away. They had met at Just A Bite, so he could not say that he should have expected any less. The human was a thrall that got off on the pleasure of vampires sinking their fangs into any part of his body. The Count had decided a long time ago that he did so crave this one human's blood. Normally, he was more interested in blood of the druidic nature, but he had changed his mind several times before. Now it felt like he could only ever think about Gael's blood. Which probably said more than he ever cared to admit, but it was a true fact that he did not mind saying aloud in front of the human. If anyone else asked him, he probably would have lied right to their face. Still, his finger drifted across that vein that was partially hidden beneath the diamond collar around the other's neck.

Oliver is taking Xerxes advice to heart and feasting as he should, the diamond fangs are adored as he keeps them in for all the holiday party. He's high on Fey blood and is seeing colors, swandiving headfirst into the pool of blood and doing a few swimmers laps, he currently stands in the grass dripping vermillion and staining the grass where he stood with red drops. Wide eyes are turned towards the statue of Ezekiel that watches over the garden, he tries to not think of home but he imagines Nan is tending to the fire, placing logs into the hearth and he hopes one of his friends manages to visit her cottage so she isn't alone, it will be the first year that they won't be together on Christmas. He recognizes the count who took up residence in his throne all party who approaches. "Thank you for having us and inviting us into your home, it's nice to be remembered." Blown hues turn back to the statue.

With a gesture of tactile expression, a chair was conjured forth as he pulled up one close enough to the Count so they could exchange words without invading the other's personal space. Ciro withdrew his sunglasses as a pair of filled wine glasses followed between them, naturally the others was line with blood, a venture into the distillation process that was still in the works but hopefully offered more refined notes than the simple addition of ichor into a glass with a red in it.

"Where to begin," Ciro said lightly, "he was an orphan, but a legacy. My mother found him in a boy's home in Maine. He was... Unusual, even among our coven he had a great deal of magic but lacked any sort of control. I was one of his teachers." Ciro had tried but he himself had been young at the time and whatever approach Ezekiel might have flourished under, he hadn't taken it. "He talked about something like this a lot," Ciro gestured vaguely with his wine glass towards the tree and the part in general. "a party to bring the city together." While flagrant praise was not in Ciro's nature he felt the need to express some towards the Count now.

"Before he underwent his trial at eighteen he tracked down some living relatives in Maine, he spent a summer with them... Truthfully I didn't think he'd return, but if nothing else he was always incredibly loyal. Incredibly grateful. When he returned he was determined to become a full fledged member of the coven." Ciro remembered this well, and then he smiled. "He cheated and thought we didn't know, my mother knew, we all did; but it didn't matter, he had a way of winning people over." While Ciro sat for a moment in silence, he remembered very fondly some of the incidents that Ezekiel had caused, terrible pancakes among them.

"What was he like with you?"

"What was he like with me?" He spoke the question out loud, but it had been him just thinking outwardly. A hint of a smile lifted onto his lips. "I always thought he seemed to have confidence in spades. Maybe that was what drew me to him in the first place." As much as Ezekiel always felt like he had something to prove, it still felt like those things he wanted to prove would be done no matter what obstacle stood in his way. "I would never classify what he did as cheating though. You do what you must to accomplish the goal you set out for yourself. That is what Ezekiel always did and that was what he did until..." His mouth shut as he stopped speaking. With a clear of his throat, he held the empty wine glass up to the witch in a cheers. "Thank you for sharing that with me. Feel free to visit whenever you desire. My castle is open to you." He got up from his seat. "Enjoy the party. He would have wanted you to." Ezekiel would have wanted Hakan to stop moping about, too. The best thing he could do right now was go have some fun.

"As a way to help you, though I know you never want my help," he knew more hatred would come his way and he'd have to soak it all up. Death, Hades, he was no stranger to hatred, but not from his own sireline. Adjustments had to be made, accompanied with new goals and a new plan entirely. For now, however, his head remained close to his heart, with them battling it out within, but his heart won, every time, when it came to his progeny. "That's not a thought that has ever crossed my mind," he was being truthful, especially considering the alternative, Hakan killing his progeny, was a reality. He couldn't, wouldn't. "There's no excuse for what I've done and I know your pain sits deep." He struggled to find the right words. "What's your alternative?" The Archfiend was curious to know what Hakan truly wanted. Separation, solitude, that's what Pluto would've wanted in his stead. A peaceful eternity with just his words tormenting him. Alas, Pluto had decided to stay and just take the other route. If they hated him, he'd give everybody else a real reason to do so, protecting the vampires from the outside. He'd failed, all hatred that had followed couldn't be erased. They remained steadfast and solid in their beliefs and Pluto grew tired of making them see. The worst thing he'd ever done was caring for others, for loving.

"I know," he continued, absentmindedly. This hatred, which used to have such a chokehold on him, too, was an all-consuming force that had turned the Archfiend blind. Raging, slaughtering, screaming, he'd lost himself after Cyra's death and it took Millennia to return to some glimpse of normalcy.

"I have never said I do not want your help. I will not be a part of your pity party, Pluto." He shook his head, tilting it upwards towards the immaculate ceilings of his castle. There were cobwebs up there that Marcella seemed to think were a great part of the architecture. He would remember not to get rid of them. "If you would like to help, maybe use your actions more than your words. Then again, both are getting a little fucking murky these days." His head shook again, voice lower. "I feel like I do not even know you anymore."

Maybe to those who didn't know him, this had generic Christmas party written all over it, but Ciro had watched Ezekiel grow up. He'd been made to listen as the annoying orphan prattled on about his dream party, how it'd include the biggest Christmas tree anyone had ever seen, and how everyone in the city would be invied. "Everyone?" the Crown would chide, then Ezekiel would just nod before the quiet judgement from the table silenced him. It wasn't as though Ciro didn't like him, but as a witch he hadn't respected him - Ezekiel was so different from the rest of them. Even when he was trying to blend in he shamelessly went against the grain, like it didn't matter, like centuries of tradition meant nothing. It was only in the months since Ciro had returned that he realized there was a part of him that envied the boy.

As Ciro had deduced, this statue of a man who'd remained perched at the head of it all was Ezekiel's sire. Grief was all the witch could see when he looked upon that silent stoicism, the outright refusal to partake or enjoy, yet he seemed to relish in the festivities all the same in his own way. A jacket that was too remarkable to be mistaken as anything but a possession of the boy who never knew when to scale something back. Had Ciro been a better teacher maybe all of this could have been avoided, but he'd failed Ezekiel, and where Ciro had failed, Hakan had succeeded. He'd reared the young vampire, inspired him, and steered him towards something promising.

Hakan had turned Ezekiel who had turned Marcella, a woman who was inherently tied to Ciro's destiny. The two men weren't connected by any means, not in any way that truly mattered, but connected they were just the same. Ezekiel had kept a room at the Amaranthus house, when he'd been turned his things had been packed away, when he'd returned they were put out again but among them Ciro had found some belongings that had mattered. There was a framed photo of Ezekiel in his youth, a big grin on his face even as he stood outside the orphanage. Letters that he'd exchanged with his living family in the states, one that he'd only uncovered in his middle to late teens. Despite the love his true family had offered him, Ezekiel was loyal to the Amaranthus: he chose the quiet discontent of the witches over the acceptance of human strangers because it was Neva who'd pulled him from the trenches.

It wouldn't have mattered to Ezekiel if Hakan had been cold, if he'd been cruel, if he'd been violent or mean. Hakan had saved him and in the young boy's eyes that lifted him into an unyielding faith. Loyalty and love that was worth more than gold. That was another quality that Ciro admired in the deceased vampire, because it was not one that Ciro had ever possessed. Among Ezekiel's things were an endless stream of designer clothes, Ciro might have sworn that the boy never wore anything more than once. Hedonistic and wasteful, the clothes were fit for donation... Some of them at least, Ciro would be lying if he said he hadn't kept a piece for sentimental purposes.

"I recovered his daylight ring, it's an Amaranthine signet." It had belonged to Ezekiel's father before him, and his father before him, and so on and so forth. The Urquharts had a very long, extensive line within the coven that went back over a thousand years, one that had seemingly ended with Ezekiel. As Ciro understood it Marcella had enchanted it for the boy when he was turned. "He would've wanted you to have it." Ciro extended the ring towards the vampire, "I have the rest of his things: photographs, scrapbooks, memorabilia, things like that. Should you ever wish to see them." He wouldn't take up any of the vampire's time, instead he left Hakan to continue his observation and his grief.

Then there had come Salvador. The man had been much better than the first, but he often knew that they were better off when they were separated. Salvador liked to bother him incessantly just because he knew that it would frustrate Hakan. It was amusing at points, but the elder vampire could not bother to be that involved all the time. He was not sure how he would have been if his progeny had died, but he knew he had not wanted it to be at his own hands. Of course, that had changed though. Really, if any of the people he turned were to die, he had hoped it would be by nobody but him. Salvador had not annoyed him enough for Hakan to want to actually kill him. Yet at least.

Then there was Ezekiel. Ezekiel. Hakan was not sure what it was about the kid that had drawn him in, but there was something that had been magnetizing about his former progeny. When he had turned him, it had been because he knew he saw something there. At the time, he had not been sure what it would be or how much of an impact the other could have on other's lives, but he had come to find that out. There were people that cared about Ezekiel. The Amaranthus was one of a few and they had been a large group before certain events had transpired that left their numbers dwindled. Hakan had done his research on everyone that Ezekiel associated himself with because it had felt right to know the kind of person that he had turned.

Perhaps that was why he had become so attached. Ezekiel was...No, he could not think abou this any further. The loss was still fairly fresh for him and he did not want to let himself sit in those thoughts when there was a Christmas party he should have been enjoying in his late progeny's honor. This was what Ezekiel had wanted. A Christmas party to rival any other. A large Christmas tree to greet everyone at the door. The diamond fangs had been a special addition of his own that he could only think of when he had seen his own in the glass case he had placed them within. They were currently placed within his mouth as a witch walked up to him. Amaranthus, it seemed from what the other had spoken. What he had not expected was what came after.

The ring in the other's hand felt blinding. He looked down at it for a moment before grabbing it and placing it on his finger. As he stared at it, he listened to the witch speak of all of the things of Ezekiel's that they still had within their home. "You are correct. He would want me to have it." A hint of a smile ghosted over his lips as he eyed the ring again before looking up at the witch who had turned to walk away. Hakan had not bothered to get up as he spoke again. Loud enough for the man to hear. "He felt he had something to prove. He did what he felt he needed to do to save all of us. I want..." He paused as he cleared his throat. "I want you to tell me about him. He said he wanted this party. Everyone has to be invited. That was what he told me. He wanted to spend it with me. I wanted to spend it with him." He leaned his head back against his throne. "Pull up a seat. We have a lot to discuss, Ciro."

There were things he had to accept now, for the sake of what was lost. It didn't matter how badly he wanted all power and agency he had to be the property of a vampire, Gael had to be able to listen to his own heart. That's why he was back to dedicating himself to Hakan. He had been compelled to forget, enthralled by shadow queens who preferred him as a monster, and given every opportunity to move on in the time now forgotten. Gael needed to return to him and help him through his grief, for however long it took because his love and devotion for Hakan ran deep.

It should have been no surprise to him that Gael would actually listen to him. Hakan was still not sure what he wanted from the human, but he only knew for sure that he did not want him to go. That thought alone confused him enough for him to have kicked the other out in the first place. In his grief, he had made a choice to push anyone and everyone as far away as possible. That included the small amount of people that he had known for much longer than he had known Gael. Still, he was unsure of the human's place in his life right now. Gael had kept on coming by and kept on sitting there as Hakan stared into nothing and it was just...it was the most peculiar thing to think about. Again, why was he here? Why had he bothered to come to him of all people? There were plenty of other vampires in Rome. And, if Hakan knew anything about his thrall, it was that the man was willing to be a thrall to anyone that gave him fang. As he so eloquently put it several times before.