@hamelin-born I wrote a thing.
Trevor is done.
The castle, his father’s castle and isn’t that a weird thing to think about, towers above him for the seventh time that week; he has been counting. He groans, placing the dead deer more firmly on his shoulder. Clearly, Destiny wants him to enter the castle.
He doesn’t want to. It’s late. The sun is setting, the air growing colder and he really regrets not wearing a shirt. This coat does not keep him warm at all.
“You win,” he mutters to the sky and walks up to the castle gates.
He knocks with a gloved fist and the bang sends a startled murder of crows into flight. The gates open quickly, as if the castle had been expecting him; it probably had.
He walked in and through the empty halls. He frowned as he steps echoed. The Brotherhood had said his father was a vampire lord scheming to take over the world; there should be demons wandering about, especially this close to sunset. Already, he could feel the sun’s light vanish from the earth.
Eventually, the hallways converged in front of a large door, embedded with dragons. How very dramatic. The deer on his shoulder felt heavy and he shifted it again, raising his fist to knock. Hopefully, this would be over quickly.
The doors swung open, just a small crack. It was enough for him to slip through.
Dracul stared at him, bored and the first thing he thought upon seeing his father’s outfit was oh, that’s where I got it from.