#toadsinatrenchcoat

One vampire was bad enough. He’d let Vlad live. For whatever reason he pretended he was unaware of his return. Perhaps because he had yet to seen hide nor hair of him, and the church had been none the wiser. 

However, something bigger and uuuuuglier was on his hit list. The church blaming the killings on the vampiric creature that lived in these forests. A failed experiment perhaps? Whatever the case, the hunter stalked through the thick brush and branches of dense forests. 

He could see his own breath, despite the scarf covering his nose and mouth,  his body heat in such temperatures giving him away far easier than if he’d been in warmer climates, yet he kept his heart race calm and steady. 

He spied bones nearby, remains of perhaps some animal, or a human meal long since abandoned. He said a prayer regardless, standing by. Keeping ears open meanwhile for sounds behind him.  So far, there was no sign of the creature, but Gabriel would not leave until he’d found him. 

"Maccus? What is it? What do you w-hhhh!?

Jack freezes in place, not daring to move lest sharp teeth catch his lips or tongue. His hands splay in poised surrender. Aside from this moment of mortal terror, the kiss itself is astonishingly good, if Sparrow's brain can get around who's doing it to him.

When it's done, he hops back, arms flailing, eyes wide. He catches sight of Norrington and sees that there's been more reason behind this than he's realised. Heart racing, flushed, and confused, he looks between them with suspicion.

"What?" He clears his throat and tries again with a lower pitch. "What's this about?"

{ meme } | accepting

Time was of little importance when one was designed to outlast it. Of late, the căpitan drifted along with it, days turned to weeks, and weeks to months that all bled together practically unbeknownst to the vampire. He had no set direction, now, no goal or anything to achieve -- which was detrimental to him, whether he knew it or not. He would wither away from it, like anything left unattended for too long that had served its purpose and no longer had any use.

The cabin door, with a shrieking squeal closed with a tired click behind him as he strode with an unusual heaviness in his steps as he approached the old oak desk at the opposite end of his quarters. Everything was usual -- the lamps burning, emitting the smell of their burning fuel, books that hadn't moved in weeks (quite unusual) laid on top of each other, maps sprawled out and navigational instruments as well. All was the same except for a trail of something far too familiar to the vampire. He followed it to the top of of his desk.

A box, plain but neatly sealed with twine laid there. Undoing it was not necessary for Vlad to know its contents, though he did with a light smile, an expression he hadn't worn in weeks. Before him were a dozen sweet confections that were on the outside unsuitable for him, but for what was within them was an aroma that seeped through their chocolate shells.

Anamaria whistles loudly to get the Commodore's attention and right as he turns there's a gun tucking right against his stomach as she leans in to invade his personal space.

"Lo there, white bread. Don't move! Wouldn't want to make that belly of your's a nest for the fishes, aye? You and I need to have a talk--do be mindful on your next words, Commodore~"

The Commodore's head had been down at the moment, as he checked over the final roster. The Interceptor was just about ready to leave port when a whistle caught his attention.

Head lifting to check who had so rudely interrupted his task, he was met with a cold barrel of a flintlock. And a woman now stood before him, catching him off guard.

"W-what is the meaning of this? Who the devil do you think you are?"