Himself is gonna kill me!
Apr. 19th, 2006 03:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kmktrI'm slowly working my way through a tiny bit of inspiration for the Alucard/sunflower fic-challenge with more of a humorous spin on it. The inspiration is elusive, since Himself is pitching a hissie-fit in the middle of the Musetorium right now, but I'm sure the other muses will be creeping back out with suggestions of how to torture uhm, challenge Himself with a bad day worthy enough to be chronicled in writing.
*grin*
Dracula's Bad Day
It had been a long, well, for him, it was 'night', though his night took place during the daylight hours. The powers that be had held a conference, one with mandatory attendance. Since most of the powers could function during the day, such conferences were almost always convened when the sun was high in the sky -- certainly not a time when he wanted to be out and about.
Given his condition, he'd received a dispensation long ago to be able to appear to such conferences in astral form, instead of running the risk of what full strength sunlight could do to him. Some of the 'good' powers quibbled, even now, since they thought that Dracula's final death would be a good thing, but the greater powers realizes that Dracula did serve a necessary, balancing role. Even some of the most powerful of the good powers shuddered to ponder what havoc the vampires could wreak if the control over their actions, as maintained by Dracula, were ever to be lost. Another vampire would have to be elevated to fill the role of Vampire King. Given how chaotic and willful his fully vampiric children, either natural or sired were, Dracula was considered the lesser, or at least the known, of the various evils.
In any case, his version of a 'teleconference' such as it was, tended to drain him. He'd perforce acquired various magical skills during the course of his long reign as the Vampire King, but greater magic was always something of a struggle for him. He'd put in a full 'day' prior as well, getting his castle ready for visitors. Losing his sleep time made him cranky at the best of times.
And, the conference of powers had been the usual round of stupid nattering, chest-thumping and self-important posturing that it usually was. Nothing of any use was ever accomplished at these meetings. So he was doubly bitter about losing his precious sleep time, attending a meeting where ultimately his presence was neither truly welcome, nor necessary. The only bright spot to the whole useless, futile exercise had been when Suzaku, the Phoenix god, had caught his attention across the massive conference table, and elaborately rolled his eyes. Dracula had had to smile at that.
The hypersonic chirping of his wake-up bat (calibrated to Greenwich Mean Time at midnight each night) came far, far too early for the Lord of All Vampires. Reasoning that his staff knew what needed to be done to make any early-arriving guests comfortable, Dracula smacked the bat on top of the head with a rather uncoordinated, irritated motion (the cue for the creature to give him ten more minutes of sleep) and turned away from the shelf set into the side of his coffin where the alarm-bat perched. He snuggled his cheek comfortably against the softness of his cloud-silk pillow and tried to relax toward sleep again for just ten more, blissful minutes.
So...
Uhm...
*hides under desk at work from hissie-fit-pitching Vampapa*
EDIT -- No bats were harmed (or are plotted to be harmed) in the writing of this fic. One Vampapa is going to have his dignity trampled, tho'. Severely trampled. *GRIN*
*grin*
It had been a long, well, for him, it was 'night', though his night took place during the daylight hours. The powers that be had held a conference, one with mandatory attendance. Since most of the powers could function during the day, such conferences were almost always convened when the sun was high in the sky -- certainly not a time when he wanted to be out and about.
Given his condition, he'd received a dispensation long ago to be able to appear to such conferences in astral form, instead of running the risk of what full strength sunlight could do to him. Some of the 'good' powers quibbled, even now, since they thought that Dracula's final death would be a good thing, but the greater powers realizes that Dracula did serve a necessary, balancing role. Even some of the most powerful of the good powers shuddered to ponder what havoc the vampires could wreak if the control over their actions, as maintained by Dracula, were ever to be lost. Another vampire would have to be elevated to fill the role of Vampire King. Given how chaotic and willful his fully vampiric children, either natural or sired were, Dracula was considered the lesser, or at least the known, of the various evils.
In any case, his version of a 'teleconference' such as it was, tended to drain him. He'd perforce acquired various magical skills during the course of his long reign as the Vampire King, but greater magic was always something of a struggle for him. He'd put in a full 'day' prior as well, getting his castle ready for visitors. Losing his sleep time made him cranky at the best of times.
And, the conference of powers had been the usual round of stupid nattering, chest-thumping and self-important posturing that it usually was. Nothing of any use was ever accomplished at these meetings. So he was doubly bitter about losing his precious sleep time, attending a meeting where ultimately his presence was neither truly welcome, nor necessary. The only bright spot to the whole useless, futile exercise had been when Suzaku, the Phoenix god, had caught his attention across the massive conference table, and elaborately rolled his eyes. Dracula had had to smile at that.
The hypersonic chirping of his wake-up bat (calibrated to Greenwich Mean Time at midnight each night) came far, far too early for the Lord of All Vampires. Reasoning that his staff knew what needed to be done to make any early-arriving guests comfortable, Dracula smacked the bat on top of the head with a rather uncoordinated, irritated motion (the cue for the creature to give him ten more minutes of sleep) and turned away from the shelf set into the side of his coffin where the alarm-bat perched. He snuggled his cheek comfortably against the softness of his cloud-silk pillow and tried to relax toward sleep again for just ten more, blissful minutes.
So...
Uhm...
*hides under desk at work from hissie-fit-pitching Vampapa*
EDIT -- No bats were harmed (or are plotted to be harmed) in the writing of this fic. One Vampapa is going to have his dignity trampled, tho'. Severely trampled. *GRIN*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-04-19 07:41 pm (UTC)Also ... I tip-toed over to your RS gallery, and the NW cel is *.*. I think the scan looks really great. The back part, with Caine in it, seems a bit shadowed on my laptop monitor, so I'll take another look when I get upstairs to my "good" compie screen. But, also, it's a dark scene, so that is probably normal for the cel.
Anyhow, wanted to let you know that I think it looks great!
And, I can't wait to read more about Mr. Count's bad day. *grins & hides from hissie-fit-throwing vamps*
no subject
Date: 2006-04-20 12:42 am (UTC)Hey! You're supposed to be getting "ten more minutes," right?
Himself: Oh... yes, that's right. *snooze*
-_-' Any-way...
Poor little bat. And... I sense an "uh-oh" and many "oh dears" coming. Am I the only one? ^.^'