on a scale of 1-10, how intimidating is the mun of this blog?

       lady dimitrescu’s low laughter fills the spacious hall with its richness.   ❝  a strange and bewitching woman appears as if from thin air on my doorstep,  and then she graces me with such flattery!  ❞   a black wing falls over her gleaming eyes,  an alluring glimpse of the voracious predator that lies in wait beneath the refined exterior of a noblewoman.   ❝  this must be my lucky day.  ❞

❝  most flattery is insincere and pretentious. i speak nothing but the truth. ❞ the sorceress mused nonchalantly, her gaze drawn to the heavens : neck craned unnaturally so she might witness the countess’s towering mass in entirety. [ she ought to feel lucky that she hadn’t been overlooked by alcina dimitrescu. ] 

        * * *

 A feral gleam entered his eyes at the suggestion, a wicked grin on his face. Wouldn’t that just be perfect? Releasing the beasts trapped in the inner city, letting them roam free and take over…they didn’t belong behind bars. He reached out to take her deathly pale hand in his own, drawing closer while she gazed at the heavens.

   “Don’t I always?” He asked, bringing her hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her wrist, to her forearm, to her shoulder, brushing lips finally against her neck. “It would remind me of home, you know- starlight and the howling of wolves.”

        * * *

oh, to be reminded of what the count truly was : a beast shaped in the form of a common man. perhaps he was, after all, a little bit of both. the heartless beast, thrilled at the prospect of wreaking havoc. the man, trailing kisses up to her neck until yennefer hummed contently and exposed her throat to him.  

❛❛ we wouldn't want you to feel homesick. ❜❜ yennefer tutted, curling her expression into a face of delight. she shifted, nudging him away by the sway of her hips before beckoning him to trudge along.  ❛❛ do be sure to keep your hands to yourself during our little excursion. it's indecent.  ❜❜ assuredly as indecent as sneaking into the london zoo, neither of which she was properly fazed by.

Hearing his name made her jolt, and for a short moment, she wanted to weep, the flood of emotion washing through her in an uncontrollable wave. She has to do everything she can to stop her breath from catching in her throat. 

Though she knew Agatha was not the kind of person to lie, the words fall upon Mina and do not sink in. She did not feel strong. She felt worthless. Mina’s eyes watered but inhaled to try and stop that cry.

“I am not sure my strength or determination was enough…” Mina rebutted quietly.

As hands thrust the crucifix into her hands. She wanted to throw it. Those wet eyes creased in personal anger she knew she couldn’t express. 

“If you wish it of me, I will…” Mina said, meeting Agatha’s eyes. 

She was just glad to have reached with the Sister the Whitby steps to climb, trying to keep her sanity in check as the now daunting crucifix hung around her throat.

The sooner she was away from the sea, the easier she would feel.

SUCH LITTLE HOPE remained in the wake of jonathan harker's death, their escape from budapest and the arrival onto whitby's shores. the crucifix in jonathan's dainty hands had ushered him to safety, and yet death had come for him all the same. the convent had pledged safety and refuge from the forces of darkness, and yet they had been slain all the same.

❛❛ neither of us could have changed anything, my dear girl.  unlike the hordes of the undead, we are bound to this mortal shell. what are we to an immortal? ❜❜

what little meaning the crucifix around mina's neck symbolized, it diminished with every step. the ten minutes enveloped in silence only gave way for hypotheses and possibilities until agatha van helsing's swarming mind was disrupted by the train station's frozen engines. an opaque mist swirled around the half-empty tracks and the towering locomotives. agatha directed the girl to their correct entourage.