Oswald slept restlessly, his mind plagued with the scent of sweet, delicate blood. It tantalized and teased his senses from his dark torpor, and he awoke again. Eyes opened once again, and he could see, clearly see now.
Warm yellow light of a candle- No. Not a candle, the light did not flicker. Some warm light filled the ceiling of this building. The ceiling was strange with specks popping out of it, and as he rose, the furniture was also suitibly strange to fit. It was all soft and padded, nothing hard about it. So plush.
His mouth was wet with blood and soft cloth. The cloth came away, spat into his hand without grace, and he curiously inspected it. It still smelt of blood, and his body convulsed. The blood's scent was so alluring, the Beast within had been snapped awake by it's promise of pleasure.
Oswald groaned and leaned to the side, gripping his head as he felt the frenzy come about. He mentally pleaded, but the Beast won out. Oswald was so starved, the darkness of torpor had dried up all the vitae resting within him, he had no way to hold back the Beast.
He stumbled to his feet, dizzied at the lack of blood in his system, his eyes blurred as he crouched over and took in the scene. He needed blood, and he would have it, soon.
A knock. "Master Oswald?" A voice. Oswald's form snapped to the door and tore it open. There stood a woman, maybe thirty years of age. Perfectly fine for consumption, his Beast argued, and Oswald bared his fangs as he bounded onto the shocked woman.
"No!" Her cry startled Oswald. No, his truest nature, a fault some would call it, of the bloodline of vampire he belonged to, his true nature as a Salubri halted his feeding totally. His frenzy ended as humiliating disgust took over him.
His fangs retracted and he moved back, crawling like a dog. "I'm. Sorry." He groaned and stood, turning away from the woman. "I am sorry, the hunger, it, it overtook me."
The woman giggled like a young girl. "That's okay, Master Oswald. You must be really hungry. We haven't heard from you in almost two hundred years."
Oswald cocked his head to the side, not quite looking at her out of shame, but so curious. Two hundred years in rest? He breathed the air of the room. The faintest bit of blood came to his nose, but also... Cooking.
"I'm... Sorry, but who are you?"
"Regan Daphne Winters." She stood behind him, still in the doorway, and his excellent ears heard her brushing and patting her clothes. "Great great grand daughter of Mildred Auer."
Oswald bristled and narrowed his eyes at the name, then sagged. "So it's been so long. Mildred, sweet Mildred, where did you go?"
Regan calmly stepped closer and put a hand on one of his arms, gently curling her fingers into the ruined old fabric he wore. "You want to talk about this over dinner? Master Oswald?"
"Oswald is fine. Dinner also sounds fine, though you'll have to excuse my rudeness, for I can't eat."
"Oh, that's a shame, I made you a big bowl of bloody tomato bisque."
Oswald pursed his lips and glanced closer at Regan.
The woman was clearly beyond her teens and into the midway of her life,though she spoke like a young miss. Light brown hair fell around her face, chopped over her forehead and showing her bright brown eyes. With sunkissed skin and a modest plumpness, she did look just like a young Mildred.
Oswald nodded. "I would appreciate some blood, yes. And I must again apologize... For my assault."
Regan shook her head and stepped back. "Nothing doing, sir. I don't know anything about being a vampire, but I get what hunger pains are like!"
Oswald wanted to correct her, maybe lecture her on the nuances of what she's brushing away so nonchallantly, but he opted out. Insted, he enjoyed the company of this younger Mildred. "Very... Very well. Please, Regan, let's eat."
Regan smiled, and as she walked away Oswald awkwardly found himself mirroring her smile.