aes sideblog

 HIS   HOUSE   WAS   DRACULESTI.    he   was   dressed    from    head   to   boot   in    black,    with    no    speck    of    color   in    even    his    ghostly    complexion.    perfect   english   was   lilted   by   the   song   of   an   accent   native   to   the   wild   TRANSYLVANIA.   his   name   was   spoken   in   both   reverence   and   fear,   whispered   between   beaded   rosaries    for   both   his   mercy   and   his   demise.   he    was   equal   parts   hero   and   equal   parts   monster,    banished   to   the   ends   of   the   earth   and   buried   in   a   sea   of   heartache   and   memory.   BUT   THEN   THE   DEVIL   GAVE   HIM   WINGS.   |   written   by   bela.     ©

                   HAD    HEARD    OF    A     COUNT     DRACULA,     BUT     SURELY     THIS     COULD     NOT     BE     THAT     DRACULA…       he     was     dressed     in     all     black,     a     long     coat     draping     his     body.     the     clothing     was     formal     and     had     a     vaguely     military     look,     of     a     style     victor     had     never     seen     before.     most     unusual     was     his     hair,     which     was     long,     dark     and     pulled     back     away     from     his     face.     perhaps     the     oddest     thing     about     him     was     the     single     earring     he     wore     in     his     left     ear.     clearly     the     count     was     nobility.     his     features     were     striking,     with     pronounced     cheekbones     and     a     profile     that     was     as     aquiline     as     they     came.    ||    INDEPENDENT  COUNT   DRACULA   AS   WRITTEN   BY   BELA.   (credit)

Richard Siken, from Straw House, Straw Dog; Crush, 2005. (via megairea)