Zobek entered the cathedral, the noise of the bustling city silenced by the thunder of the wooden doors. The smell of incense and candles immediately put him on edge, expecting the rundown place to be as it should, abandoned.
He was quite surprised to see a nun at the other end of the monastery, not seeing him, she continued lighting the candles that surrounded the demonic crucifix, the thing portraying Gabriel in the place of Christ.
Zobek payed little mind to the woman, focusing on getting to Gabriel and setting his plan into motion.
Going up a set of stairs, he searched for hidden, blocked off corridors, opening his path whenever he found them. Zobek quickly made his way to the throne room, the smell of Gabriel leading him.
The Lord of shadow once again saw the nun, this time though she was lighting candles around the real Gabriel, the real decrepit and rotting corpse of Dracula.
"Who are you?" Zobek rang, staring at the nun.
"Shhhhhh..." She continued to light the candles around Gabriel, who Zobek now realized to had already awoken.
"Zobek..." The corpse of Dracula wheezed.
"So I've found you, Gabriel." Zobek clenched his fists in anticipation of his old friends next move, Dracula rage burst then.
"Gabriel is dead, I am the Dragon." He hissed in slurred Latin, his voice almost too horse to understand, and attempting to rise from his seat, but the nuns hand kept the senile count at bay.
"The Dragon..." Zobek turned to the woman, who now stood beside Dracula facing The Lord of Shadow. Zobek took a step back in surprise, the woman's identity now unobscured.
"...Carmilla?" at this Dracula's blood red eyes shot to the woman for the first time since his awakening.
"Witch!" He roared, again attempting to rise from his seat, but the woman stopped him, she not decrepit or meek as he was.
"Be calm milord..." She lulled him, staring at him with some mesmerizing spell Dracula felt calm wash over him.
Then she kissed the prince of darkness, his eyes and zobek's with surprise.
She broke the short lived, awkward kiss, now sitting on the count, her arms wrapped around his neck.
"What are you..." Before he even finished her neck was bare, her hand removing the nunnery's wimple to reveal the pale, succulent flesh of hers.
"Shush milord, drink." It would've happened with or without her blessing, instinct took over the dilapidated count, he, having been starved for centuries, latched on with such a force, it would've decapitated any lesser being.
"Take your fill." She grunted out painfully, Dracula complied, his nails digging into her flesh, holding her close as he drank from her, such closeness again stirred something behind the haze that concealed his memories, but his animistic hunger pervaded all his senses and mind.
As vitality returned to the count, his grip slowly faded, his hunger sated by the woman's blood. now he held the near limp form of Carmilla, looking at her for answers.
She now looked at him, with a warmth that bewildered the Count.