The flickering shade that sprinkled the cheekbones of Jake English, a rugged male caught in the phases between boy and man, danced through the trees of the thick Romanian forest. Tanned from years spent wandering the world with little else but a backpack, and two trusty pistols, Jake hitched a ship from an English port one afternoon to wherever it was heading, and hadn't been back home since.
Now he often wrote when he came across towns with mail service, to appease his elderly grandmother in her occasional worry, but he mostly was alone. Nights spent peacefully under starlit blankets of night, a campfire freshly stoked, and a traveler's pot of bitter, home brewed coffee cradled in his large hands. His recent escapades left him in the foothills of Romania, and a small village where he spent the night in an actual bed, and restocked supplies for the days, weeks, or months, ahead in the thick wilderness.
The light spring air was crisp, and left Jake's lungs with vigor as he trekked along the plush grassy ground. He had seen so much in his short life, enough to fill a thousand years of history, but he always longed for more. One more castle, or cavern. One more mystery to uncover, or legend to be told. One more adventure to have. That was all he longed for in life, adventure, and perhaps someone to share it with.
He noticed the forest thinning after a few hours on spent hiking, and broke into a huge clearing at the base of a carved mountain. Dirty marble stairs led upwards, and his eyes followed the climb in that direction, pausing as his eyes took in the sight.
A castle. A large, slightly decrepit castle, perched neatly atop the flat mountain, and it glistened with a silverfish gold sheen that drew the khaki short clad nomad to those stairs, and into an ascent of his life.
It took nearly an hour to climb all those stairs, but as Jake bore down upon the giant dark doors, his senses tingled with excitement. He opened the heavy wood slowly, dust motes catching in the sunlight, and the cobwebs tore away as he stepped through them.
A dusty candelabra found his hand, and he swiped away the grit, before a match ignited the old candles. In the flickering light, the old stone castle hung with the utmost elegance. Orange, Red, and Black tapestries hung over huge windows, and on bare spots on walls. Armory with brilliant swords stood like living knights at corners, and at the foot of stairs. A huge fireplace at the end of the main hall was still loaded with rotten logs, and above it sat the largest painting Jake had ever seen.
A man sat leaning over his knees, palms resting on the hilt of a magnificent sword. His skin was pale, and eyes a vibrant orange, framed by spiked dark lashes, and thick brown eyebrows. His hair was a striking whitish blonde, with slightly windswept bangs, and it jutted up into a frothy triangle shape. The colour contrasted greatly with his eyebrows. He wore black pants, and a black vest, layered over a white shirt, and an orange tie the same shade as his eyes. Jake took in the portrait, and ruled that it have been the owner of the castle.
He decided to traverse up the stairs, testing carefully to make sure they held, it seemed as if they were as in perfect condition. He jogged up, and spied into many of the doors that were ajar, plush bedrooms, or sitting rooms, and even a gigantic library met his gaze on the first floor up. It almost seemed like everything had been frozen in time, and only a coating of dust and cobwebs affected the gorgeous place. No doors creaked, or stairs squeaked, and he continued upward toward the tower.
Exploring the entire castle took until nearly nightfall, but he still had one more section he wanted to see before he left, the tower. He began the climb round the spiral stairs; windows at regular intervals left him watch the setting sun as the candles illuminated his way.
The plain wooden door seemed so out of place in the tower, as the winding steps ceased at the flat section signifying the top. He took the handle, and pressed inwards, a slight groan of unused joints different than everywhere else. This room was completely lacking in dust, or cobwebs, or any form of wear. The alter is what made Jake stop in his tracks.
A pure silver coffin lie in a raised platform, deep purple curtains blocked the last rays of the setting sun, and the only light came from the dimming candles.
"Now this is what I call an adventure…" Jake muttered in his thick accent, something that hadn't diminished in his years of traveling. He took gentle steps foreword, hiking boots sinking into the plush rugs. He approached the coffin, and set the candelabra down on a wooden table next to the glittering silver surface. He rubbed his hands together, and placed them on the cold metal, which seemed to resonate underneath his fingertips.
He pushed back the lid, and gasped. The man from the painting was completely intact under the lid. The same clothes he wore in the painting adorn him now. He looked as if he were sleeping, untouched by time that had ravaged the outside of the castle. As Jake pulled his hand away, the sharp edge of the coffin sliced his palm, and a thin red line trickled down.
A drop landed next to the mouth of the man in the coffin, and Jake went to wipe it away when glowing orange eyes shot open like a rocket. Jake screamed, and stumbled back, watching as a tongue whisked the blood from a pale cheek, and into the mystery man's mouth. The hands that had been folded reached up, and shoved the top of the silver casket away, before his body bent at the hips to sit up.
"Y-you're alive?! Jiminy Christmas!" Jake stuttered out, and glowing eyes met emerald ones.
"Well I wouldn't call myself alive so to speak." A faint smirk spread across pale, yet dark lips, and revealed elongated canines. "Thank you ever so much for freeing me, however. My name is Dirk Strider, and I've been trapped in the god awful coffin for…" He trailed off, and Jake raised an eyebrow.
"What… year is it, my friend?" The way Dirk spoke puzzled Jake, it held an ancient air, but was still as casual as modern English.
"2010?" Jake prompted, and the orange eyes closed for a second, and opened again with a slight sadness.
"I've been stuck in here for over a thousand years." The figure swung itself from the coffin, and stood up, audible cracks and pops were heard as joints corrected themselves into place. He was ungodly tall and slender, and he knelt down, extending a large land to help Jake to his feet.
"S-so you're… still alive… after a thousand years?" Jake questioned, regaining his footing. Jake moved to the doorway.
"Like I said, not really alive, but yes. I never did get your name." Jake paused, noticing Dirk only a few inches from him, following closely, and noiselessly.
"Jake English. Can you tell me how you came to be, Mr. Strider?" He kept walking, and the close proximity didn't slacken as Dirk stuck to him like glue.
"Well, isn't it obvious enough here?" Dirk chuckled a low laugh, and Jake turned his head to see the slightly glowy face that followed him down the stairs.
"Ah… not really." He muttered.
"I'm a vampire, Jake English. Did you not stop to question why I was in a silver coffin, or hadn't decayed to dust?" Dirk was suddenly in front of Jake, blocking his escape route downward. Startled, Jake stumbled back, nearly falling, but a cold hand to his shoulder leveled him out.
"A vampire? And I'm supposed to believe that?" Jake gave a skeptical once over to the figure holding him upright.
"…Why wouldn't you?" Dirk looked genuinely confused at the lack of belief, and cocked his head. His large eyes followed and mapped every movement in Jake's body.
"Because we don't really live in a time where vampires are regarded as Dracula was. Vampires these days… well they sparkle."
"But only pixies sparkle…" Dirk attempted to provide. Jake shrugged. "Well I can prove it to you." Dirk shrugged as well.
"Fine. Prove it." Jake felt a pinch in his neck as a set of fangs pieced the tan skin, he couldn't move away partly from shock, but mostly by the grip on his shoulders. It wasn't painful, but when he felt Dirk's tongue run over the two holes, and the wounds close, he nearly fainted. He slumped down to a sitting position, and Dirk wiped away a stray drop.
"Well slap a fish and name him Horace." Jake whispered, running a hand along his tender neck. He looked up at Dirk, who seemed in much better spirits now that he was full. A deep rosy flush had returned to his lips and cheeks and a smile replaced the pout.
"So you're a vampire, Mr. Strider?"
"Indeed I am Jake English. I'm forever in your debt for waking me from this curse. That and feeding me… W-would you like to stay in the castle?" Dirk sat down next to Jake, they seemed roughly the same age, besides the thousand-year difference.
"You mean overnight, or…?"
"However long you'd wish to stay. If you need a place of respite for the eve, I'd gladly host you. If you'd like to stay longer, it'd be my pleasure."
"But the castle is in ruins…"
"That's what you think." Dirk took Jake's hand, and all went black for a moment before the main hall met their vision. Dirk raised his hands, and clapped twice.
"Roxy, Jane? We have a guest!" When the claps echoed out, the entire castle seemed to bring on new life. Candles lit, dust disappeared, and two girls appeared from thin air.
"Master Strider! So good to see you're awake!" The blonde one embraced Dirk, and he chuckled, returning the hug.
"Roxy, can you clean one of the bedrooms for Master Jake? He's staying for the evening. Jane," he turned to face the black haired girl, "can you prepare a meal? Master Jake must be starving!" The girls nodded, and bolted off in different directions to do their duties.
"Master Jake?" A smile spread across a tan face. "Really?"
"They respond better knowing someone as Master. Anyway, Jake English. I do hope you enjoy your stay."