The bloodlust was far too much for him to control. With his parted lips, dilated irises, and even paler skin, the vampire could care less when snow piled up over his skin, clothes and hair only to melt and drip down when the sun directly hit at him. He was thirsty. He was parched. The living dead parasite needed nourishment and his head was going hazy. Hell, he was even barely thinking when he'd seen the large cave. As the strong rain continued to pitter-patter down and hit against him, he stepped in without bothering once to look about in his surroundings.

If there was just at least one animal in this expansive icy wasteland, he'd be very happy because then he'd be able to finally satiate his hunger. Swallowing tightly and leaning against the wall, the long, ebony strands fell over his face as his blood red eyes looked through them. He was pretty handsome - the pretty type of handsome - with a tall nose, sharp jaws and a slightly long face. Even his body was lithe, toned well like his human counterpart had gone to a gym during his last few days living with blood still running in his system. His eyes had widened though when they had settled onto what looked like a human. A sleeping human at that on a makeshift bed. It would have had him drooling if his taste buds were still producing saliva.

Using the last of his strength, he falls to his knees and quickly grabs the human's wrist to bare his fangs and pierced into the skin. The blood was delicious and his bloodred eyes flashed yellow as he silently moaned. He would've had drank him dry if it weren't for the sudden, odd feeling that he got in the pit of his stomach. Quickly letting go of the human's wrist, he found his body falling down onto the floor and his arms wrapped around his stomach like he had just drank something poisonous. The vampire coughed hard as if that was going to make things better. It hurt.

His stomach hurt like hell. Groaning in pain, the vampire continued to roll around on the floor, his face playing a series of emotions: from pain to sorrow to one similar to constipation and then to what looked like momentary relief.

Something is wrong, Hadrian Winterpeak's dreams told him. His eyelids, heavy with sleep, slowly lifted from slumber uncovering a pair of shocking ice-blue eyes. Still half-asleep, his vision was blurred, but he immediately noticed that he had shifted into human form. Hadrian groaned. Not again, he fumed, mentally. He was a sleep-shifter, meaning he accidentally shifted into different forms (normally animal-like) while he slept. Although he had been pretty lucky these past thousand years, one of these days he would wake up from his usual hibernation to find himself frozen in a block of ice.

Hadrian closed his eyes again and inhaled deeply. Cold and snow pervaded his sense of smell; winter was at its prime. So why had he woken up? He normally had no problem sleeping throughout the winter until mid-spring. He sniffed again, focusing his senses closer to him this time, and almost gagged. Blood. He opened his eyes again to stare at his wrist. Dark liquid oozed from twin gashes, they appeared to be fang-holes, but clumsily made, in his wrist. Second, he smelled something mostly sweet-scented, but with a soft, underlying scent of... not rotting, more like something that was absent of life.

Slowly, Hadrian lifted himself into a sitting position and turned to the trespasser. The trespasser appeared human, but was not. He was a creature that had once been human, but, for some reason or another, changed into a being that felt like ice and stone. They were the natural predators of humans, living like parasites on the humans' magic-less blood. What were they called again? Hadrian racked his brain. "Vampire?"

Hadrian had not seen a vampire for a hundred or so years. It was odd to see one so far north. Vampires were normally southern creatures, making themselves abundant in areas that were warm; albeit that was most likely because the largest human populations were in the south as well. Humans were scarce in the north, but when they did live up here they lived in tightly knit villages. It would be incredibly difficult for any stranger, vampire or not, to infiltrate the northern villages.

Hadrian was about to ask what the vampire was doing here when he finally noticed the pained look on the vampire's face as well as the copious amounts of regurgitated blood that decorated the floor of his cave. He grimaced. I'm probably going to be the one that will have to clean that up, won't I?

"That was really stupid of you. Couldn't you smell that the magical property of my blood was too high for you to consume? You really must choose your prey more carefully." He told the vampire, who only appeared to be half-conscious. It was a well-known fact that out of all the world's creatures the dragons had the most magic in their blood. Vampires and most humans had none. Some humans were born with magic, but they had a much smaller quantity in their blood than the dragons. Vampires did not have any magic, even if they had once had magic in their human lives, which is the reason why they could not digest blood with high magical property well. Dragon's blood, in high doses, could even be lethal if the vampire did not immediately vomit it up.

Although Hadrian had nothing to do with the vampire's mistake he did feel a bit guilty for some reason. If he had not sleep-shifted then none of this would have happened. He peered into the vampire's pain-filled face. "Hey, don't die," Hadrian told him. "It would take me months to get the smell out."

Vladimir Bloodhart would have had smelled that magical property of the dragon’s blood if it weren’t for his hazy mind. He didn’t really think straight when he was in such a state. Even moreso when he was curling up in pain right now. Perhaps later, he’d be thinking of how idiotic he was after making a fool of himself. He continued to vomit out blood while he grasped at his stomach and his knees scratched at the floor as his forehead stayed stuck on the floor. His eyes shifted from both yellow and red as his system continued to get that reaction from poison.

“Fuck you,” was all he’d managed to say before he’d groaned out loudly again. It echoed about in the cave they were in. “S-Stab me already.” He needed to bleed. Regurgitating blood wasn’t enough and if he had to die, he’d rather not die from poison. Shakily reaching for the knife he had tucked into his pants, he threw this towards the stranger’s way while he shut his eyes tight. Yet again, he vomited out a copious amount of blood and continued to pant. This was, honestly his first time having to deal with pain other than the sun that would generally suck out his energy and make him weak, almost sick.


[[ Short post. Sorry. =< ]]

Hadrian gazed coolly at the vampire's knife. "No," he said, "There is already enough blood that I'll have to clean up as is. There's no point in making more." He pinched the blade of the knife between his index finger and thumb and tossing it to the side as if it were something dirty.

The dragon murmured something and a worn brown satchel, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, floated into his outstretched hand. He opened it, reached it and, after a few moments of sifting, pulled out a medium-sized ruby. He approached the vampire then knelt in front of him and forcefully turned him onto his back. "This is going to hurt. A lot. So try not to cry or fight back or anything," Hadrian told him, darkly.

Hadrian ripped the vampire's shirt so his chest was exposed. He pushed the palm of his right hand onto the vampire's chest as he held the ruby tightly in his left. He chanted a few words, coaxing the magic to leave the vampire. The magic eventually listened and left the vampire in painful waves. Hadrian gave himself no more than a few seconds to prepare himself for the hard part of the ritual. Keeping his eyes closed he searched for the magic that hung haphazardly in the air with his Other Sight. One by one he plucked each individual strand of magic from the air with his long fingers and placed them into the jewel. It was a tedious task, but Hadrian gave it his full attention. He was dealing with dragon magic so even one small mistake would have the ability to leave a smoking crater miles wide.

"Done." The dragon placed the jewel, now pulsating with energy, back into the satchel. It would make a good snack later. "You okay? You didn't die from the pain, right?" It was impossible to take out all of the magic the vampire had been infected with all at once, especially with the vampire's conditions, but Hadrian did release a good enough amount. Since the vampire had no way of excreting the magic (a human could have sweat it out, but vampires did not have sweat glands) Hadrian would have to keep releasing the magic manually a little bit at a time. For now the vampire would still feel a little ill and weak, but at least the situation was not fatal anymore.

{ OOC: Haha. I made a part of my post sound rape-ish by mistake. I swear it wasn't on purpose. xD; }

Bloodhart didn't have time to watch the other take the knife and toss it aside. Hell, he didn't even have time to see what was happening. He was too caught up with the pain. Only until he had been put on his back had he realized about his surroundings. Right. He hadn't left the cave nor had he died yet.

"H-Hurt?" he managed to repeat, his voice hoarse as he frowned at his shirt being ripped. That was expensive! But, he couldn't even bring himself to say, "Hey!" just to catch the other's attention. His eyes shot open, wide open when he'd felt the magic be literally ripped apart from his body. With his mouth wide open and his back arching, he clawed into the icy ground as a scream of gutteral pain erupted from the back of his throat. He did try to minimize it by gritting his teeth together. Hell, if he were human, he'd be sweating a lot right now from the pain.

With his feet stuck onto the ground, too, as he threw his head back, he almost did try to move away from the pain only to hold himself back. Strange how a thought flitted by his mind. The word dangerous at least did so.

Bloodhart dropped down onto the ground, his mouth still parted in breathless pants. He didn't breath. It'd be impossible to be panting. "Th-The hell was that?" he asked, his voice weak as he groaned again. His body was sprawled weakly onto the ground, shirt tattered and his limbs spread out defenselessly. There was still that little feeling that lingered in his body and he wasn't able to stop himself from letting out a curse in different languages. "Are you... a dragon?" Finally. It settled in. His mind, though slightly hazy, was at least thinking straight.