May 23, 2019
@atehell -- ;
It had been but a few hours since Casca had passed out and he’d relinquished his bed, the Castle Bran alight with a dry thunderstorm that ought to have promised rain, but didn’t. It was only when there finally came the pattering of rain upon panes of glass did the candlelight seem to flicker in response, Vlad lifting his head from the old grimiore he’d been perusing and hearing something else. The book was closed soundly and he set it aside, rising and taking Casca by her shoulders as her petite, pretty form filled out in the shadows. A living contrast. A hand was placed on her shoulder, peering in with concern. “Could you not sleep?” he inquired softly.
