And so breakfast begins, the two siblings bickering about this and that as they devour their chocolatey cereal-milk mush. Conversation is antagonistic and competitive throughout, each Dracula trying to one up the other in the devastation of the insults thrown, trying to send out a comment cutting enough that their competitor would be left bereft of all words, unable to respond. In summation, they both want to get the last word, in traditional sibling fashion.
A *KSHWOOM!!!* announces The Counts imminent arrival to his children, the resounding noise silencing the two and drawing their gazes in the direction of the swiftly approaching sound. They watch as a blur of black speeds into the room, the current of air produced by the figures sudden deceleration crashing into the siblings faces, forcing their eyes shut.
Prying open their now slightly watery peepers, the two Young Draculas (TITLE-CARD!!! Roll credits!) are met by the grinning face of their father, Count Dracula. Standing over them, the Count deftly disregards his childrens choice of breather-style breakfast during his appraisal of them, taking in their much too blue uniforms and their book heavy school bags. After his eyes finish scanning his offsprings attire, he moves them back up to look at his children's faces.
"Good morning my dear children! Already up and about, ready to take that school of yours by storm I see." Greets the Count, serpentine voice lacking the tone of sarcasm his words, by all rights, SHOULD have been laced with.
Vlads eyes widen minutely at the, dare he even think it, supportive attitude being displayed by his father, surprised and uneased by his seemingly chipper morning mood, before he attempts to school his features into their previous state of neutrality. Though even then, his eyes are ever so slightly squinted in suspicion.
Glancing over at his sister in mild curiousity, Vlad can't help but notice the change in her demeanor, the way her entire being suddenly hardens into stone. It's not that she's suddenly acting any different, not that there's any difference in her expression or the set of her eyes from a few moments prior. It's just that she's less animated. Less alive. The small movements of her shoulders when she talks stilled, the rise and fall of her diaphragm suppressed as she lets her breaths fall into a more steady, controlled rythm.
Peeling his eyes away from the anomaly that is his sister, and that's coming from him, the boy refocuses on his unusually cheery dad. Raising his eyebrows in query, Vlad questions his father bluntly in place of greeting him. " What's gotten you so exited about school? You didn't seem too happy about us going yesterday..."
Shifting his eyes from both of his children to Vlad specifically, The Count takes on a considerate, contemplative disposition as he responds to his son, never quite meeting his eyes as he speaks. "Well Vladdy, I-I thought on it a bit last night, and I understand now why it is you want to attend this... school."
"You do!?" Vlad asks, in both worry and reluctant anticipation. After all, if his dad really did know of his true motives, he'd naturally be livid. But then why is he so happy about it? While he knows logically that there's almost certainly some misunderstanding taking place here, in the safety of his own head, Vlad can't help but hope. 'Is it possible that he... actually understands?'
Moving around the dining table, The Count glides smoothly along the floor as he speaks, stopping when he's positioned behind a still seated Vlad. "Yes, yes, of course I do my dear boy, and I'm so proud of you for it. A chip off the old fang you are!"
"I am!?""He is?!" Vlad and Ingrid echo together, their tones of similar incredulous disbelief and outrage respectively.
Ignoring his daughter, the Prince of Darkness leans over the back of Vlads chair, positioning his head beside his sons as he continues praising him, pride practically oozing from every pore. "Well of course you are! Going to this breather school to get close to all those juvenile blood bags, it's ingenious!" The Counts eyes glow in a malicious red light, his fangs decending as he imagines sinking his teeth into some fresh meat, sweet crimson honey dripping from his fangs and rolling down his tongue. Then, after a small pause, he speaks once more, a cold, undead hunger in his voice. "I only wish I'd thought of it first, hahaha!"
At his fathers declaration, at the bloodlust exuded by the vampiric conqueror he calls dad, Vlad freezes, veins turned to ice. "Oh.... Of course." He responds, flatly, doing his best to mask the disappointed drop he feels in the pit of his stomach. Still, even as the boy does his best to prevent his real feelings on the matter from showing on his face, he can't help but silently resent himself. '*Sigh*..... Why did I expect any different?'
Smiling a hollow smile that doesn't make it's way to his eyes, adding a touch of mirth into his voice, and turning his head to look at his dad, head still pertched over his shoulder, Vlad gives his father the response he knows he's looking for. Or something close to it at least. "...Tch! Daa-aad, I wanted that to be a surprise!!!" Shifting his expression into as childish a pout as he can manage, Vlad quietly huff's as he subtly turns his head to look away from his father, eyes shifting to the ground in a faux show of shyness and embarrasment. "Why'd you have to go and figure it out..."
Gone apparently forgotten by both her father and brother, Ingrid spectates Vlads entire act with eyes of judgement, quietly grinding her teeth at the, in her opinion, terrible acting on display. 'There's no way dad's buying this, right?!'
"Oh Vladimir, my son and heir! I'm so glad you've gotten over those absurd notions of being friends with breathers." The Count clarifies, as though how he felt was something in NEED of clarification. It wasn't as though he'd ever feel differently on the matter.
Vlad grimaces. Luckily enough, his face remains out of his fathers view. Looking up breifly from the ground, the boy shifts his eyes to look at Ingrid, sending an imploring, almost pleading look her way.
Ok, so apparently she hadn't gone COMPLETELY forgotten, but the fact that her little brother had paid more mind to her existence than her father had did little to ease the growing spiteful amusement she felt at his discomfort.
Absolutely oblivious to the eyes of desperate request his son was currently sporting, The Count starts back into the vampiric, immoral, breather killing speil he usually spouts. "Now we can REALLY bond together as father and son! I'll teach you all my wicked ways, we'll go hunting for peasants together, and-"
"Dad!" Vlad interrupts suddenly, not sure what exactly he intends to say, but unwilling, or perhaps unable, to listen to his father go on about murdering and draining innocent people for kicks. Breaking his gaze away from Ingrid, having received not even a smidgen of pity from said girl for his suffering, Vlads neck cracks minutely as he snaps his head to glare at his father.
Taken back by his sons sudden staring, though not upset as he'd failed to recognize to irritation in it, The Count responds in query, a genuine interest in what his son had to say now that they'd, seemingly, gotten onto the same page. "Oh... yes Vladimir?"
"I-I...." Vlad stutters while his glare falters, finding it much harder to be angry at his dad while he's donning his current expression of honest interest and intrigue, devoid of the malicious glee he'd held mere moments previous. Garlic, he's such a softie!
Unclear on what excuse to use in getting away from this topic of conversation, and filled with an unrelenting anxiousness, Vlads eyes dart fleetingly over to Ingrid in one last plea for help. For mercy.
Luckily enough for Vlad, that last comment made by The Count had ticked Ingrid off immensely, the enthusiastic thrusting of his offer to teach her little brother insulting to her ears. SHE'S the eldest, SHE'S the vampiric one! Why the hell is her brother getting lessons before she is!? Rolling her eyes in exhasperation and veiled contempt, Ingrid gives in, if only to stop listening to her father's blatant favouritism. Aquiessing to her breather lover brothers cry for assistance, Ingrid nods her head slightly downwards at her jacket, or more specifically, the school badge sewn into it.
A moment passes before realization flashes in Vlads eyes."I, uhh....WE need to go to school! Yes, we need to leave now to get to school on time!"
Saying this, Vlad shoves his chair violently backwards and stands up, his father dodging the imminent impact caused by his sons sudden action via a smooth glide out of the chairs reach. Idly, a vindictive corner of Vlads brain feels disappointment, this being overshadowed the superior feelings of guilt, shame, anxiety, and relief, and therefore going largely unacknowledged.
Ignoring the look of thorough confusion now upon his fathers face, probably due to the unusual spontaneity of his actions, Vlad snatches his bag off the floor and slings it heavily over his shoulder. As he begins to make his way towards the dining room exit, he looks once more at Ingrid, nodding his head to indicate the door.
Ingrid bristles at the direction, offended by the unspoken implication that she was supposed to follow him. Taking note of the retained askance within his gaze as he points her towards the exit, she reluctantly complys, registering his direction as a suggestion or a request rather than an instruction. 'Good!' she thinks with pride as she moves towards her brother, 'If that little garlic muncher thinks for even a second that he can order ME around, I'll pluck out his eyeballs and feed them to him!'
Having caught up to the helpless dork that is her brother, Ingrid makes it to just before the doorway out of the dining hall when a voice rings out, stopping both her and Vlad where they stand.
"STOP!!" Their father yells, his voice billowing out like an icy current of air. Striding confidently in the direction of his children, The Count watches in satisfaction and mild amusement as his progeny, even if unconsciously, follow his command. Slowly, uncertainly, they turn their heads and shoulders to look at him, their feet remaining firmly placed where they are.
Halting his approach some feet from his children, The Count levels them with a gaze of blank apathy, his facial expression matching his eyes. He says nothing. Observing how his childrens discomfort and worry grow with each passing moment of silence, The Count, after watching what he deems as a sufficient amount of anxious squirming, decides to put them out of their misery. "I've decided that I'll be driving you to school." He states, his face having morphed into a mischievous grin. "I do have to make sure this school is up to the standards of a Dracula after all, even if it's a breather school."
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Chapter 14: 1868 words (not including this bit)
Hello! Sorry I haven't posted any chapters in recent weeks, but I've been busy irl, with school, work, and family stuff all hitting me at once, immediately after I got better from being sick. Frankly, sh*ts been hectic, to say the least. Hopefully I'll be able to post more consistently once again, but I'm honestly half expecting something to go horribly wrong and screw that plan over.
I'd like to thank everyone who's supporting the work so far, but Shimano_Aki in particular. Even after I don't post anything for a few weeks, I still get notifications from being sent power stones from you most days, so really, thank you. To everyone who's reading this extra bit, I wish you a happy new year, and a late merry Christmas. I hope your holidays were pleasant.
Finally, stones are appreciated, constructive criticism is always encouraged, if you've enjoyed the story so far, I'm glad, and if you haven't, sorry not sorry. Best of wishes to all of you, and I hope you enjoy the new year!!!! ☃️🎄❄️🎁⛄+🎉🎉🎉🎇🎆