368/A Familiar Meeting

A Familiar Meeting
Date of Scene:	08 August 2014
Location:	Castlevania
Synopsis:	Dracula decides to evaluate D's current state himself, and Medusa does her best to further corrupt the dhampir.
Cast of Characters:	22, 83, 232
Tinyplot:	The Hunter's Curse

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Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
    Grim, hopeless, dark. The Cursed Prison of Castlevania does not seem to be the place for temporary confinement, for the corpses draping in their cells and the restless spirits wandering the halls point to any incarceration being permanent. However, it has served that purpose not once, but twice now, and with the same prisoner in each case.

    At least now the situation is a more favorable one for the lord of the castle.

    The heavy steel door of the prison tower wails on its hinges as Dracula steps through into the cursed hall's fetid air. The vampire lord stands tall and regal, but that doesn't prevent a smug smirk from curling his lips as the door slams behind him once again. And why wouldn't he have such an expression? Here is a chance to have one of his grave enemies turned to his side, after all D's stubbornness and spite and posturing. Dracula had only enjoyed such satisfaction once before, ages ago with a certain Belmont far too full of himself. That influence had been broken...but maybe this one won't.

    His stride carries him to the cell where guards were once posted to keep watch over its valuable prisoner. Since Medusa's "checkup," the guards have since been allowed to leave and the chains binding D undone to hang from the cell's musty walls. Still, D was not allowed to leave the cell entirely; Dracula had to see for himself before making that decision.

    And now, after a day of incarceration, D can see the towering form of Lord Dracula standing in front of his cell, eyes burning like embers as they gaze into the shadows of the room. That self-satisfied air colors his tone as he addresses D, as if he were privy to some joke that only he could be amused by. "Well, D. Welcome to Castlevania. I trust your accomodations have been acceptable for the night?"

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    While she would like to spend every waking moment by D's cell, Medusa does have other things to tend to. Patients, personal research, preparation of medicine and... other herbs. But it does appear that the witch has taken it on herself to ensure that D's stay in the cursed prisons is a somewhat pleasant one. Dracula has given her permission to come and go as she pleases, and she will do just that.

    It's hard to say whether it is night or day, as it's dark here. But whatever time it might be, Medusa has prepared a tray with food for the prisoner, and she carries it with great care even as the guards open the doors for her.

    Like before, her demeanor is pleasant as she steps down the hall, a gentle smile on her lips and warmth in her eyes as she catches sight of Dracula himself. "Why, good day lord Dracula~" she greets him and offers a slight curtsy even as she holds the tray in front of her. "I was just bringing our guest some food." Then she turns towards the cell and beholds D. "Good day, beloved. I brought you something to eat. You must be starved." The smell of meat should be easily picked out, and upon removing the cover a medium rare steak, cut into neat slices, should be easily seen, covered in a dark sauce.

D (232) has posed:
    For one day and two nights, the dhampir Hunter had languished in almost total solitary confinement, his only company the dark blade inflicting its curse on his soul. The prison's ambience would by now have scraped a normal man's sensibilities raw, but he is patient, uninterested in the sounds surrounding him, and too burdened by his own concerns to suffer the more nefarious effects of his cell.

    It is also possible he is not the kind of man to be perturbed by extended isolation, or the howls of others in agony and distress. He has always lacked for empathy, and no doubt the curse has only exacerbated his unfortunate heartless streak.

    No, he is not troubled by the prison. The curse is trouble enough. Its corrosion washes over him, steadily erasing his identity, his proclivities, his principles. Gone is the innate suspicion he holds for those in the Confederacy. Gone is his resistance to acts he once thought despicable or cruel. He has lost his impulse to protect human life, but for him, it is like such motivation never existed at all. Here in the lonely cell, he has be rewritten, reshaped, and given new purpose.

    So it is that Dracula's appearance is not met by immediate loathing; instead, D stands up from his cross-legged seat, and looks on the Lord of Darkness without any emotion at all.

    "Lord Dracula," he murmurs. If he should feel anything other than a dim respect, it is denied to him. D goes so far as to incline his head in a slight bow. "I have not been uncomfortable; thank you."

    Medusa's arrival denies D the chance to say anything further. She produces the meal, and D reacts graciously to the plate. "I can only take sustenance from human blood or the capsules in my possession, Miss Gorgon." Oh, has he gone formal again, now that Dracula is here? "I thank you for your courtesy anyway, and will eat if it pleases you."

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
    Dracula's gaze shifts over to Medusa when the witch arrives. His smile to her is courteous enough, and with it comes a respectful nod of his head. "Good morning, Medusa. How generous of you bring our guest food; surely he will not be left wanting under your care."

    He snorts faintly when she addresses D. 'Beloved,' hah. That's never going to get old.

    His hand lifts from its place behind his back, pushing open the door of D's cell with a metallic whine. "Go along, Medusa, if it pleases you. I'm sure I can speak with our guest while he eats, if he chooses to do so after all." Dracula's attention returns to D, then, the main reason he came here in the first place. To be shown anything other than contempt by the dhampir is certainly a new experience. If anything, that alone is enough for Dracula to feel assured of the curse's hold. Still...

    "I am pleased to hear that you have been well. Medusa informed me of your injuries; it seems you have nearly recovered, however. Are there any lingering difficulties in either mind or body for you, D? It seemed to be quite a troublesome situation that you had to deal with."

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    It's amusing to see the Field Marshal in such a good mood. If more people can benefit from D's current change of mind, then why not? The dhampir is powerful, possibly even more powerful should he unleash his full potential which he has clearly avoided due to those pesky morals. "Of course, it wouldn't do if I were to not tend to him, wouldn't it~?" she responds with a light chuckle and what appears to be a sincere smile.

    Now, why so formal? Either way it doesn't seem to upset the witch as she just continues smiling. Even if she knows it's true that he can't take sustenance from the food, it's all about appearances. And well, he remembers her offer from before, right? Either way she offers a polite nod to Dracula when he opens the cell for her, and she steps inside with the tray, holding it out for D to take. There is drink there as well, cold and clear water that is certain to help on most thirsts, at least normal ones caused by dehydration. And once he takes it she will kneel down on the floor, clearly intending to sit near D as he eats and drinks. For now she is quiet, as Dracula has things to discuss with D. She will be a quiet observer, a smiling and comforting presence.

D (232) has posed:
    It's a bit awkward and demeaning to take the tray and sit on the floor to eat while he is also to be engaged in conversation, but D makes the best of the situation he can. He is not going to cause offense by turning away Medusa's offered meal, or by ignoring his host. Moving to a position closer to the wall -- and simultaneously making space for Medusa's entry, and Dracula's -- he resumes his cross-legged seat and takes the tray into his lap.

    The steak is eaten in slow, small bites. As he said, he takes no true sustenance from the meal, and while eating for the sake of appearing normal is not a strange act for him, he takes little pleasure in it.

    "...I appreciate your concern." The water is at least more valuable to D, but that, too, is only taken at polite moments. "I admit I have had some difficulty piecing together the most recent events. I have felt confusion, and the kind of turmoil I am not accustomed to experiencing. The effects are lessening, but it seems each time I hear a new voice or see a new face I must remember all over again who they are and what I feel for them."

    His voice is soft, but his words are matter-of-fact. There is nothing to be gained by disguising his obstacles. "It grows easier by the hour."

    D chooses not to describe his paralysis experienced before Kagenashi. Giving definition to that strange encounter might place her in some peril, and so he keeps it to himself for her sake, even if he doesn't understand why he would feel so generous. Besides, the moment is hazy to his recollection now.

    "...my injury must have been more severe than I thought, to lead to these consequences."

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
    Dracula steps into the cell after Medusa, but he doesn't take a seat. No, the Lord of Darkness is not one to sit on a prison floor just to talk with someone. Even if he shows some semblance of concern for D, that's not much more than the appearance his interest takes on. He hardly shows care for his /own/ son, especially these days; why would he give the same to someone like D?

    His arms fold behind his back as he regards the man in his strange position, eating food that provides no sustenance or enjoyment on the floor of a prison cell. It's an unusual sight, and one that somehow seems to drive home the situation D is now in. How different that sword has made him.

    Dracula glances over to Medusa for a moment, then smiles faintly. "Good. Yes, from the sound of it, it was quite a blow. You are fortunate to have survived, no doubt thanks to the Lieutenant's care. Lucky for you she was there at the time." The vampire lord falls silent for a moment, pondering the matter carefully. "Well. If your situation is improving steadily, then I think you may well be due to be released. This is certainly no place for you. I suppose..." He sighs faintly, almost begrudging even /making/ the offer. "...if you require it, Castlevania may serve as a residence for you for the time being. There is more than enough space for one more resident. That is your choice to make, however."

    Draconic eyes narrow slightly, looking on D with the gaze of a great beast pondering what to do with a fortunate catch. "What exactly do you plan to do after you are freed, D?"

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    So his mind is still recovering from the effects of the curse. Interesting. So he still has problems remembering... which is rather useful. The fact that he is so polite to Dracula is also quite amusing, considering how he's discussed the Field Marshal before.

    "We will help you as much as we can. Just let us know, beloved," Medusa says softly where she kneels by him, resting her hands on her thighs. "It isn't strange that you do not remember... but it will piece itself together in time." She's there to reassure him, to guide... in her own special way, all to ensure that the dhampir steps down the correct path that they want him to travel. And she will not disappoint the Field Marshal, that would be such a waste of everybody's time, especially after he was gracious enough to let her borrow the cursed sword for this plan.

    "There are other places you can stay as well. Should you need it, medical is open to you and your needs. Though perhaps it is wise of you to stay in Castlevania..." she muses, reaching a hand up to tap her chin in contemplation. "The less sun, the better for you."

    Really? Dracula is offering their guest to stay here? How amusing~ And something she doesn't mind playing into. "I do wish to keep an eye on you even as you heal up, however. Would you permit that, beloved...?" She turns those amber eyes on D, beholding him with some degree of worry in her eyes, the same expression she used when she first met the man in this cell.

D (232) has posed:
    The steak -- lovingly prepared as it is -- rests like a hard lump in D's stomach. His body requires other nourishment. The hunger -- that, he realizes, has been a closer companion these last hours than his sword. He had been injured, and left to heal over time, rather than in the clean soil of the earth. His resources had been drained, and all this talk of comfort and support only reminds him of the increasing need to replenish himself. He could become a useless wretch in any number of ways without appropriate food.

    He remembers Medusa's offer on the day prior, and it's all he can do to force down the next lump of meat.

    His unease is strangely heightened by Dracula's close scrutiny, and the offer to stay within Castlevania. He feels almost as if he would become...something else, if he stayed here for long as a resident. But -- it would be a better thing than to remain in a dank cell.

    D's answers come after his internal struggle and silent contemplation have both ended. He releases a short, stiff sigh, the kind of exasperated sound more common to him in his less afflicted state. He /must/ be returning to some kind of normalcy, if he is expressing any impatience in this manner.

    "My belongings were taken whenever I was brought to this cell, it would seem; I will need those returned before I accept any offer of hospitality. Among them were tablets of synthesized human blood which I find I have a need to take. If these have been lost, I could accept other substitutes, but if I am to ask anything of you, it would be this, first and foremost."

    D transfers his gaze from Lord Dracula to Medusa. "If I am alive only thanks to your care, I owe you a debt, Medusa. If my service would repay you, I offer it gladly."

    Again, he speaks to Dracula. "And the same is all I can offer in exchange for your continued generosity. Providing shelter, food, and medical attention is more than I would receive from many in my homeworld, and I am no fool to leave these gifts unanswered. If you will grant me the chance to rest here in greater comfort and complete my recovery, I will offer you my sword, Lord Dracula."

    The words are spoken, but sound very far away to his ears, as if they are spoken by someone else altogether. Strange, how fast his heart beats. Is it fear? Rage? Something dark surges through his veins, put there by his sudden interest in /serving/ Lord Dracula. A flash of his discomfort is visible to the dragon's keen gaze, as is the vague confusion following it.

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
    "Unfortunately, I don't know what may have happened to those tablets of yours," Dracula replies, shrugging idly. "That said, those vampires in my service do not go wanting for blood. Why else would so many choose to serve me? You will have your fill if you stay here, don't worry." Of course, he doesn't mention what sort of source that blood will come from. One of Castlevania's many secrets, perhaps?

    That smirk only grows when D offers his sword. Pointed fangs gleam in the dim light of the cell, echoing the predatory flame that burns in the dragon's gaze. /That/ is exactly what Dracula was waiting to hear, and the last sign he felt he needed to be assured of D's successful manipulation. His arms spread almost in a shrug as he chuckles his amusement. "And I would be a fool in turn to deny the aid of a skilled and powerful warrior. As you wish, D; the Confederacy will welcome you to our ranks, and we will consider where your blade will be best pointed. I think I already know where we may have need of you."

    His arms fold over his chest as he considers D once more. That strange shift in D's expression does not go unnoticed, surely, but...most likely it is the last dregs of resistance ebbing away from him. Dracula nods to himself, confident; in the worst case, if D proves to regress, he will be in a position where Dracula's many servants can subdue him, temporarily or permanently. Perhaps the lord's pride will prove to be his downfall in the future, but for now, he waves the thought away without concern.

    "In any case...the halls of Castlevania are open to you, D. Wander as you see fit; the other residents will not trouble you so long as you do not bother them. And Medusa," he adds, turning to the witch, "you may feel free to meet with D as needed. My halls are open to you as well."

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    That is not the face of a man who enjoys a finely prepared meal by one of the better chefs to be found in the Citadel. That is the face of a man who eats merely because he was asked to. But perhaps it serves a purpose, to remind D of what he really needs, that there are other things that will sate his dangerous hunger. Sooner or later he will have to give in, even a steady rock will wither away in a fierce storm as water tears it slowly and surely down.

    When the belongings are mentioned, a change comes to Medusa's expression. "I am sorry..." She lowers her head, as if weighted down by the gravity of the news she /dreads/ to give him. "Your belongings... most of them were lost in the attack. As I retrieved you, I could not recover them." Another heavy sigh and she closes her eyes, her voice tense as she repeats the apology. "I... am sorry. Forgive me, beloved." Her slender hand reaches out to rest on his arm, her fingers digging gently into his sleeve. "It is my duty to keep everybody alive, after all." Especially those who catch her interest.

    This is indeed curious, his reaction to his offer to serving Dracula. And her, for that matter. He looks uncomfortable... so Medusa moves in, grabbing the opportunity. Her other hand moves to gently caress his cheeck, and with a cant of her head she seeks out his eyes as she leans closer. "What is wrong...?" Tell her all about it. Let her be there to wash your concerns away and replace them with something more useful to the Confederacy.

    For now he is one of them after all, and Medusa offers a brief nod to Dracula as he gives her permission to come and go in order to tend to D and ensure that everything proceeds as planned. It's better to keep a constant eye on D lest something happens to break the curse, after all. "Thank you, lord Dracula. I will feel more at ease knowing I can assist," she responds softly, her attention returning to D.

D (232) has posed:
    His tablets -- gone? The dhampir wears a subtle frown, difficult to interpret. Either he is dismayed by the news, or already considering what it means for him to be without what he considers to be his only valid food supply. The idea of fresh blood rekindles his burning need, and yet his habits remain ingrained despite the curse's influence. Perhaps if he was starving, he might change his mind, but D opts to remain faithful to his principles and to pursue either options before seeking relief elsewhere.

    "Then I must return to my world soon to procure more capsules, or to Miss Kuran's to collect more tablets. Your offer is generous, Lord Dracula, but to take from other sources..." He does not need to say anything further; Dracula no doubt already knows and understands D's preferences, amusing to him they may be. D shakes his head. "I ask your permission to leave and see to this, if Medusa believes me strong enough to manage the task."

    The slender hand on his arm begs his attention. Medusa begs for his forgiveness, and, startled, D can do nothing but issue it immediately. "You have no reason to apologize, Medusa. If what Lord Dracula says is true, I owe you my life. What was lost can be replaced. What matters most is that I am alive, and still in possession of what matters most to me. Set aside your guilt; it is without foundation."

    The next caress of D's cheek further soothes his concerns. His voice lowers, becoming more gentle. "...it is hunger alone affecting me, or some residual consequence of my injury. I will be well after I have tended to my physical needs, I am sure."

    He looks into Medusa's serpentine eyes for a long moment. His dark gaze is rather cool, for as gentle as his voice has become, his words as empty as his -- ahh...no, let's not go there.

    Little seems to move him from his apathy except for these physical urges. In time, his personality may be restored in full, but for now he is too weary to show much beyond a polite face.

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
    Medusa's gratitude is answered with a brief nod from Dracula. He's well aware that she wants to keep a close watch on D as much as he does, and she /is/ the one who orchestrated this entire matter. It's probably just as much to his benefit as hers to let her stay close to D as much as she wishes.

    That refusal to accept anything but the tablets draws a brief sigh from Dracula. Of course, maybe it was too much to hope for that his resolve would be worn away /that/ much just yet. In time, however, maybe he would waver. Perhaps the influence of Castlevania's dark nature would wear that last bit of stubbornness away. "Very well. I suppose if Medusa feels you able enough, you can search for those sources. I would advise bringing someone with you, however; I have the feeling you may be at risk, going alone. Either Medusa or one of my followers can assist you in that endeavor." A glance is given to Medusa as if to get her support of that fact.

    With that taken care of, Dracula lifts an arm to gesture to the cell door, smiling once more as his irritation is cast aside. "You may be free at your liesure, then, D. Soon we will give you a radio so that you may contact the rest of the faction as you wish. Additionally, I would suggest keeping your sword nearby at all times. Castlevania may be safe, but...some of its residents can be aggressive, under the wrong circumstances." Yes, /that's/ why he needs to keep his sword with him. Not because of a curse slowly eroding who he once was, of course.

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    Get more capsules? Oh no, that won't do. The witch looks worried even as she runs her warm hand across D's cheek. "I am worried for you... you don't have to do it," she urges him in a soft tone. "Not now when you are still weak..." She will move closer, concern on her face. She would prefer if he of course didn't go on that search, but if so... then she should be there with him. And perhaps interfere.

    Though, this entire plan is going better than planned, with him believing her to have saved him, that she need not apologize. This is ideal to work on. When has his words been this gentle? Not since before he learned of her true nature.

    It is indeed hunger. Hunger that he should accept and give into. Instead of feasting on scraps, barely surviving when he is offered what his vampiric nature truly craves. Is that hurt in her eyes as she watches D. "... you really won't allow me to help you, beloved?" A sigh leaves her, and she runs her soft fingertips along his cheek, studying his face. Sooner or later he will eventually break..."You would heal up quicker if you weren't so damn /stubborn/."

    The suggestion to keep the sword close, that earns a nod from Medusa. "You are still weak... I would hate to see you further injured." She sighs though, and leans into D, wrapping her arms around him. But then she draws back again, watching him with a sad expression on her face as she rises to her feet again.

D (232) has posed:
    "As you say, Field Marshal. I will keep myself to Castlevania as long as I can. Perhaps someone else can be sent to retrieve the capsules in my stead, if you think I am at risk for attack." It's a fair compromise, isn't it? D can remain somewhere secure, preserving his strength for more demanding tasks. "In the meantime, Miss Gorgon can acclimate me to your Confederacy, and I can seek accommodations here I find comfortable."

    Medusa's concern is distracting. He is uncertain how to be of any comfort to her outside a dull reassurance. His voice returns to some softness, the murmur of it clearly intended to be more private, despite Dracula's hearing being sharp enough to catch every word. "I am in no great danger, Medusa. I am weary, and I am hungry, but I am not at risk for any permanent harm. If it comes to it, I will bury myself in the grounds and sleep for however long it takes to collect more blood capsules, or I will investigate some other means of satisfying my needs. I have no desire to bring you harm, and as hungry as I am, the act of a live feeding may be...provocation enough to overcome my willpower."

    Medusa stands; he stands, too, bringing his half-eaten meal along. This, he offers to Medusa, before he strides across the cell, and picks up his sword.

    Its closeness is indeed a comfort. D releases a small but notably relieved sigh.

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
    Dracula gives a brief nod at D's suggestion. "I believe we can find someone willing to run that errand, if needed. So long as you tell us where it can be found, then we can obtain those capsules for you without risk to yourself." Another look to Medusa. "Would that be acceptable?"

    The vampire lord steps out from the cell as the others prepare themselves, then turns back to offer a bow. "If you will excuse me, I have some matters to look into myself. If you find yourself wanting in your stay here, you need only contact me, D, or request help from any of the other residents of the castle. Whatever you require will be provided for you." His smile returns as he straightens. It's not particularly warm, but at least it's less smug and self-satisfied than his earlier expressions have been. "This place is now yours as well as mine, after all. Your needs will be seen to as they arise."

    With that, Dracula offers a nod to both in turn. "D, Medusa. I will be available if you have need of me. In the meantime, I wish a speedy recovery."

    With a swirl of dark fabric, the Lord of Darkness makes his way out of the prison, leaving D alone with his present companion.

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    At least D seems intent to follow their careful manipulation, which makes this scheme far easier to play out. "Perhaps..." she responds to his and Dracula's suggestion. The best solution would of course to get him to follow a dietary plan more like Dracula's, of course. To make him more likely to throw away morals. But it will take time and coaxing, to repeat the offer until he finally gives in.

    In no great danger? No. That is true. But men like him are weak to women in distress. And he seems to fall for it easily now that his anger for her has seemingly been forgotten. "What if we can't find blood capsules...?" she asks with great concern. "And what other solutions could there be? Go hungry until you can't fight it anymore? Lose yourself and do something you will regret?" Her eyes narrow slightly with determination. "I would rather you reconsider," she whispers. "A normal human might not survive it." A witch however...

    Nonetheless she takes the tray, nodding at Dracula as he departs, then watches D as he picks up his sword. His new sword. "... you do not have to pretend, beloved." Her words are gentle as she watches him.

D (232) has posed:
    The Field Marshal is offered a second slight bow prior to his departure. "Lord Dracula," D murmurs, cool but respectful.

    Once Dracula has gone, D sees to sheathing his sword, and to strapping the scabbard to his back. Without his cloak adding bulk to his lean frame, he has to tighten the scabbard's belt. The task is simple, but it is normal, and as 'off' as he feels, anything normal is absorbing and comforting. He loses his troubled thoughts in the simple act, and perhaps takes a bit longer to settle the sword between his shoulderblades than is truly necessary.

    The serpent's whisper reaches him at whatever distant location his thoughts have taken him. Ah, Medusa is insistent in the face of his rigid principles, a trait he would find irritating coming from anyone who wasn't also displaying the level of care and concern she exhibits. His sigh his short, his voice cool, but he gives her some morsel of agreement, if only to silence her for the timebeing. "If you were to spill your blood into another vessel, or to give me someone else's fresh blood in a similar way, I would drink it, if only to alleviate your worry."

    He heads for the door, too -- to begin his exploration of a place only barely familiar to him. "You may walk with me here if you like, or do whatever else would please you. I would like to find a place where I can rest in comfort."

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    With the tray in her hands she awaits for D to finish, and Medusa is patient even as he straps the scabbard on. Her eyes never leave his back, and she is silent, not about to disturb him.

    ... see? Persistance and acting pays off.

    In response her expression softens, and she even dares give him a soft smile of relief, gratitude in her eyes. "It would ease my worries, beloved..." Inwards, she restrains the urge to smirk. It's a first step down the road to corrupting him.

    A place to rest sounds like a good idea, and Medusa nods as he heads to the door. "Just a moment." She sets the tray down, then picks up the empty water glass as well as the knife D had used for his meal. Why, it seems like she's about to ensure that he drinks right then and there. Running her tongue over the knife to get any food off of it, Medusa then moves it to the palm of her hand, letting the metal bite into the skin and cutting through it. And while there is a slight wince there, it doesn't appear to bother the witch much. Dark, crimson blood draws forth, and Medusa quickly holds the glass underneath her hand, letting the blood run down her hand and into the glass. And perhaps she lets more blood than D would have preferred to take run into it before she moves her still bleeding hand away and then holds out the glass for him to take. All along with a loving smile on her face and adoration in her eyes.

D (232) has posed:
    Once more, the innocent, kind-hearted nurse executes a sadistic ambush on the unsuspecting Hunter.

    His back is to her, his attention on the hall outside, yet from the very edge of his vision he catches a flash of dim light reflected in the knife's blade. What Medusa intends is instantly understood by him; however, before she can be stopped, before he can do more but utter a gasp of protest, she has stroked the knife's edge through her palm and made a gruesome fountain of herself.

    The sight of her welling blood and the way it runs from her fingers is enough to stir the monster inside him from its slumber. It snarls in his throat and sets his glare ablaze. Adopting a tense, half-hunched posture, his hands clenched like claws, he releases a low, terrible growl. The cell grows as cold as the grave. He seems to become pale, and as his power stirs, as his fangs grow long from his clenched teeth, his hunger becomes an unbearable, insatiable, and malicious demand nearly crippling in its intensity.

    And all Medusa does is smile.

    D cries out to her half in torment, half in ecstasy. "The blood...! I cannot -- "

    Cannot...what? Drink it? Ignore it? He is poised to take either recourse. All it would take is a nudge...and Medusa is happy to nudge. The love she shows him. The adoration. The open invitation.

    The glass is warm in his hand. Inside it, Medusa's blood has gathered into a shallow, richly-colored pool. The streaks of it painting the inside of the glass are a brighter red to match the crimson gleaming deep in D's eyes. The red becomes a vivid stain on his lips as he drinks. What little Medusa gives is gone in a few desperate swallows. It slides hotly down his throat, warming him inside and out, easing his starvation. But there is part of him, a very large part of him, wanting more.

    Needing more.

    The sword he bears is briefly wreathed in a roiling red light.

    D throws the cup aside; it shatters in the cell. A bead like a liquefied ruby hangs from the end of his chin. He stands where he is, panting as if heavily exerted, and in a low, cold voice, gives Medusa a single command: "Never do this again without my permission."

    D turns away sharply, and strides down the hall, anger in his step.