Nevada was a hot and muggy place; Dracula was not sure that he was pleased with it. He was silent and quick as he made his way through the crowded streets of the casino town, looking and hoping to find the link to his pretty Violet, but it felt like he was hitting static every time he tried. How very frustrating. He pressed on, trying to find something that looked vaguely familiar and failing spectacularly. He twisted his face into a scowl, what in the blazing hell had she done? He took a breath and headed into an ally way, leaning back against the filthy wall, and closing his eyes. He slipped into a meditative state and was able to briefly catch her mind.

She was conversing with someone, a male. "Do we have a timeline?"

"No," was the response from the male.

"Fuck, how dangerous is it?"

"I don't know, I just remember you screaming in pain."

"Is there anything- "

The link cut off and he growled, scaring a beggar who had sought to come into the ally as well. Good, the fool should be afraid. He pulled away from the wall and tried to use the brief taste of her mind that he had gotten to find her; however, it seemed that she had never really come into this part of the city. With that thought in his head, he took to the sky, transforming. Perhaps she did not live in the main part of town, perhaps she lived on the edge of the city limits.

He would circle all night as he tried to locate her, spiraling farther and father away from the city center, hoping to catch her scent or the flavor of her mind: either would be useful in helping him to locate her. From the conversation that he had heard, Iola could very well be in danger and that would not be tolerated.

Several hours later it was around one in the morning and finally he had hit a stroke of luck: her scent had been picked up, now all he needed to do was follow it. Approximately an hour later he finally reached the origin of the scent and wanted to sigh in exasperation. Iola and her young cousin, Violet, had laid down a tarp, set up sleeping bags and lit candles made of citronella. He wondered if the two women had been star gazing and simply fell asleep or if this had been done deliberately. Either way, this could not be good for them. There were those damn mosquitos and it was incredibly cold out here.

Dracula bent down to pick up the young girl first, her health more at risk due to her young age, than his Iola, and froze as he spotted plants that clearly had only been put down today. He could spot sage and rosemary planted interchangeably along the fence and property line. He looked up and spotted a newly made wreath on the door, and he would bet it had a twin on the front door, made of dill and thyme with some safe woven in as well. Well, that would explain why he was only able to get a brief connection: she had set up protections.

He shook his head and picked the little girl up in his arms. He was not evil, thank you, just… well… not the best person in the world ever. Besides, he had been appointed a mission by God himself to gain redemption and his choice of Iola Roman had been approved so there really was nothing that could stop him from getting to her. Using just a bit of telekinetic power, he opened the door and carried the small girl to where he knew the bedroom was. The bed was large enough for the two females to share.

When the girl was settled, Dracula went to retrieve Iola. Her weight was a comfort to hold in his arms and he was eager for the time that she would allow it during her waking time. As he carried her into the house and closed the door behind him, he took the opportunity to marvel at her. She was almost like a porcelain doll, the kinds that Lucy and Mary, the original Lucy and Mary, had kept as children. The only thing that had fully prevented her from looking like one, was the lack of neat curls and lacy ruffled dresses; though he was sure the blue in her hair also served to prevent people from making the comparison.

He settled her under the covers and watched as she took a protective position, curling defensively around the little girl. For a brief moment, Dracula was sent into a wild and impossible fantasy.

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He was back in his old castle in Transylvania, the moon shining down, and the laughter of children echoed across the ground. He turned to spot three dark haired children of varying ages chasing each other across the grounds. They were dressed simply, the boy in long trousers and the girls in long skirts, all three in loose poet shirts. It was a miracle that the girls were not tripping over their skirts, but he supposed they had practice. The children were as pale as he was and one of the girls had curls that could have passed as his. His brow furrowed and he made his way closer to them. As he got closer, he spotted another person sitting not far off, sat on a blanket. It was a woman with a familiar silhouette, and she was reading a book by the moonlight. The closer he got the more he could see her, and it was as she turned her lovely blue eyes to him, he was ejected from the little fantasy.

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Dracula shook the fantasy from his head, it did no good to dwell on impossible things. He had never been able to sire children other than to create more like him and he would not wish to condemn children to a sunless world. Still the idea was a temptation and he, for perhaps the first time in a long time, did not want to give into it. Hell, if he wanted to really think about it, he could consider Mary Van Helsing as his child since her blasted father had had his blood in his veins when she was sired and he did not want to contemplate children that actually looked like him to turn on him like she had. For a moment he thought to crawl into the bed with Iola and Violet, if only to feel for a moment like the little fantasy had a chance.

He did not do this, however, and instead had decided to wander the house, and see the rest of it. He would probably leave the house and find somewhere to sleep during the morning hours before attempting to come back tomorrow night. She would be awake by then, hopefully, and they could talk, get to know each other. Perhaps he could engineer some sort of meeting? But no, that would not work, she knew his face and what he looked like, she would know him immediately. Maybe… perhaps he should just… ring the doorbell? Knock? Would that be acceptable? Iola would likely slam the door in his face. He could live with that, he supposed. He would try more than once but he was sure that eventually he would be able to get her to listen.

After a brief look around the small home, he sat in one of the pink armchairs and had to wonder what had prompted their purchase. They did not seem to be anything that his Iola would purchase, but they were heavy with her scent, like she'd had them for years and years. It was curious but he shrugged it off and sat, reveling in the scent of her for as long as he could before he would be forced to leave. At some point, he heard the bed shift and the girl got up to use the bathroom. It did not wake Iola, but he did not want to risk being spotted by the child. Instead he took a look at the clock on the video cassette player and left before the girl could leave the bathroom. It was dangerously close to sunrise and he did not want to risk getting caught outside.

The trip to the hotel was quick, now that he knew where he was going and getting into the room was even easier since the woman he had been using made sure he had a key card for it. Once he had sealed the room and made sure that no light or people would get in, he settled in for sleep. He kept the same clothes on, as now they had faint traces of Iola's scent on them and he was reluctant to part with the tantalizing fragrance of blood oranges and pomegranates. He would try to actually meet her tomorrow, hopefully everything would go… not horribly.

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Why is it always Concrete Blonde that helps me to finish these? This one may have seemed like an absolute mess of words ((to me at least)) but I hope that y'all like it.