Abraham had finally allowed the vampire out of his basement room. The days and nights spent there had been a respite, a time of rest and peace and recovery, but afterwards the vampire had been left to stare at stone walls and pace about restlessly. The vampire had been so pathetically glad to see his Master when Abraham had come down to basement that he'd been granted grudging permission to leave it. He was not, however, allowed to leave the house, and Abraham had given him very strict rules to follow.
Alucard didn't care. He craved stimulation, mind and nerves screaming for something, ANYTHING, to break the monotony of unchanging scent, unchanging view, unchanging temperature. He could sometimes hear faint voices but that was all, and he was almost frantic with the need to be OUT!
Even so, he was still a vampire, and his exploration of his new home was anything but haphazard. He walked quickly through the hallways and corridors, cataloging doors and windows, noting rooms, forming a mental map of the place in his mind. Once he had located entries and exits and had a mental blueprint of the estate, it was time to explore.
He started in the attic. It was dusty, cobwebby, quiet, and chilly. Awkward shapes of unwanted furniture, draped with cloths, filled the south end. Trunks of dusty and yellowed linens lurked in dark corners, and traces of moonlight filtered through filthy windowpanes. The scrabbling scratch of mice came to his ears from dark corners. There were also newer crates, newer trunks. Clean, sturdy, no-nonsense containers that were exactly what he would have expected from his new master. Those contained clean linens, clothes suited for other seasons, extraneous housewares, and more. A few contained a discovery more disturbing to the vampire; the stakes and equipment used in his capture.
All told, he had a pleasant night, immersing himself in the various scents of fabrics old and new, in the dry dusty smell of the attic with the scent of woodsmoke tracking through a small crack in a chimney. He luxuriated in the feel of old silks and fresh velvets, lounged in motheaten chairs, and found a thick rug in striking blood reds and brilliant golds rolled up and stacked among a variety of more mundane floor coverings.
When the moonlight coming through the windows began to be replaced with the pink glow of dawn, the vampire left the attic to return to his coffin. On his shoulders was a prize, the lovely rug that reminded him so of his former status and home with the eyecatching colors and deep plush feel. He hoped that Abraham would be willing to allow him to keep the rug.
The next afternoon, Abraham hoped that his staff would be able to find a bloody thing in the absolute mess that was the attic. Every single trunk had been opened, contents scattered about the floor. Dusty furniture covers had been tossed carelessly on the clean linens, crates and boxes had been hauled willy-nilly and what few contents were found inside them often bore no relation to the other contents in the same trunk. Trying to walk across the floor was an obstacle course, with unrolled rugs to trip over and random, often expensive, objects crunching underfoot.
Damn vampire.