Mullen Institute, Dublin

9 May, 2011

22:36—Stuart's Perspective

:-:

Irony, a term that also pertains to Stuart. At the moment, he, too, finds himself in a familiar place in his dreams: The mysterious castle rooftop from before.

How strange… It's as if this location has been etched into his mind. For some reason, he feels a connection with it, as if this scene…is where he belongs.

Night after night, weeks on end; I'm always here. I've a mind to contact the "in-dream realtor," and complain about their high-handed marketing skills.

This is where "that person" always appears: The man that shoots blades from his hands, ripping me to shreds in an instant… I'll be *damned* if I let it happen again. Call me stubborn, call me stupid… But I'm tired of losing to a shadow.

He looks up and observes the cold, dark and stormy night sky.

Nothing is different, aside from the absence of rain. But the sky, the surrounding scenery, everything; this cruel picture… Stuart's unsure what to make of it.

He *does* feel a connection with what he sees, but it's superficial: This dark scenery calls out to him, silent and unheard… Stuart *swears* he hears the cries of hundreds and *hundreds* of people, haunting him from every direction. A sound only he hears…that only he can receive and understand.

"Save us, milord!"

"They're killing us!"

"Why? Why!?"

"—Why have you forsaken us, Count Orlok!?"

Count…Orlok? Who…

—who on earth is *that*?

Wait…that name… Can it be?

Stuart recalls his love for older films:

"Nosferatu" is a 1922 German Expressionist horror film; an unauthorized adaptation of Bram Stoker's "Dracula"... Names and other details were changed because the Film Arts Guild could not obtain the rights to the novel. Thus, "vampire" became "Nosferatu," and "Count Dracula" became "Count Orlok".

Stoker's heirs sued the company over the adaptation, and a court ruling ordered that all copies of the film be destroyed. However, a few prints of Nosferatu survived, and the film came to be regarded as an influential masterpiece of cinema. On 3 June, 1929, the film was released in the United States, where it instantly became a success… If the person these voices are beckoning is Count Orlok, then they're calling for a revised version of a fictional character.

That's ridiculous. Utterly absurd, calling for someone that's…

—a person that doesn't even exist.

But the way these voices cry, it's as if they owe him their lives. It's sad… These voices, I can see images: Hundreds of people in an old town, suffering, being slaughtered by vampires, ghouls and goblins.

This "Count Orlok" that doesn't exist…he… He's sleeping… No, he's dead, sealed tightly in a coffin with a stake driven through his heart.

"Holiness! Please… Save us!"

"Are you not the Nightlord? Isn't there anything you can do!?" Stuart holds his head and collapses onto his knees, overwhelmed by the images of death.

"Count Orlok! No…no, help us…!"

He's crying… These people are being eaten alive, calling for a creature of great power and influence…who has already been killed. Even to the bitter end, they believe their lord will save them… To no avail, unfortunately.

Amidst it all, Stuart notices a figure standing alone, shrouded in the darkness of the room where Count Orlok's body is sealed. This figure is burly, well-defined and dominant in appearance; a monster of a person.

And yet, this figure seems more inviting than it is frightening.

"How sad, but you became *much too* close to them.

Your time has run its course. *I* will take over from here.

Rest in peace...Father…"

Who is this man? Why…is he…smiling?

He's laughing… Did he do this…to his own father?

No more. I can't stand another moment of this… To kill your father because of something positive: *Despicable*! I will see no more of it!

"This is our lineage, stained by blood." A curious case of déjà vu: Stuart just heard his own voice speaking to him, amid a crack of thunder.

The voices and images have yet to leave his mind, but this voice… He stands, looks to the west, and notices a familiar image.

The person standing there… "You…are…me?"

—yes, it's Stuart himself. Irony, in every sense of the word.

"Salutations to myself. I would address you as 'Stuart,' but that isn't your real name. At least not the one your fathers chose for you."

"'Fathers'… What are you saying?"

"Did you not see it? Are you slow to catch up, scion of love?"

To be told your name isn't *real,* and that you should be addressed differently: That's a rather strange thing for someone to say.

Stuart wrestles with what to make of this.

"Scion of love…"

He gives his "other" self his attention. "Yes?"

"—good, very good. You accept *that* much at least."

"It's something I've heard in the past, in my dreams and in reality.

'Scion of love;' I *hate* that term.

But when I think about it, I do have a big heart. So, I tolerate it… Until I recall the tragedies associated with it. Then, things become complicated." The "other" self tilts its, amid a strike of lightning that reveals a bit more of its image.

This version of Stuart is much "scarier" in appearance:

Hair whiter than snow, much longer than normal.

Eyes red like sunlit rubies.

Fingernails that have extended into beastly claws.

Skin untouched by sunlight; pigmentation of the deadest grey.

If Stuart looks closer, he can see fangs hidden behind the creature's lips. Looking into the "other" self's eyes presents a challenge for him… Stuart can't do it; he can't look this creature in the eyes. It's too much…seeing himself like that.

That…can't be…me… Me, a creature like that? I've been fascinated with monsters since I was a child, but seeing myself as one… It hurts.

My heart…feels like it's breaking.

This creature is indeed beautiful, but frightening and sad as well.

"Afraid of yourself, scion of love?"

"No…"

"Then why are you hiding your eyes?"

"—because it's too much. It's too much, goddammit!" Stuart realizes what this means, and he's trying his very best to deny the truth.

The dead count, Orlok… He saw his face in his mind:

Stuart looks just like Orlok, as did Lord Frederic. Only Count Orlok was harrier and more conservative in appearance, donning the robes of the age.

"Scion of love, your birth was needed. You and your great-grandfather are reincarnations of the first Nightlord."

"Re…incarnations…?"

"Yes, scion of love."

"Please. Call me Stu—"

"That is *not* your na—"

"*It's the only name I know, alright*!" Stuart snaps so desperately that his "other" self closes its eyes. From pity no doubt, and these expressions only serve to frustrate Stuart even more. "My name…is Stuart Alexander Bennett.

And those visions… *You* showed me them, didn't you?

You're another of the church's toys, sent to kill me in my sleep, *aren't you*?"

The "other" self smiles.

Winds from the stormy skies brush the scene, adding some majesty to the darkness about them… The sky thunders once again.

"That…is not your real name."

"—!?" Stuart wants to thrash the "other" self for repeating those words.

"Do you hate yourself that much, scion of love?"

"...I…hold *some* animosity towards myself, yes."

"I can tell. Self-discovery seems to be too much on you.

But if you fight me, together…we can take the first step…as one." The "other" self inaudibly spreads a familiar territory from its frame: A metaphysical, solar air of the purest gold. Stuart's battle instinct lifts him, tightens his defenses and readies his mind for whatever the "other" self has for him. "Scion of love, I will help you remember who you are…and what you are fated to become.

It is written, your *true* destiny in this world.

You are more important than what you *think* you are. And I've grown tired of watching you live this 'human's dream'… I can no longer stand to see you fall short of what you should already have by now.

Scion of love, please…*fight* with everything you have. Don't hold back!"

Oh, I'll "fight" alright. If this creature wants my best, then so be it.

I've never backed down, I've never held back, and I won't start now… I have people waiting for me on the other side. So…so…

—lesson start. Class is now in session!

Irony couldn't be any more crueler: Dawnavan and Stuart are faced with antithetical versions of themselves. But these incarnations are confusing… They pose as violent beings, yet their intentions are virtually instructional.

Amid their struggles, Stuart and Dawnavan hold suspicions about the antitheses. They also wrestle with fact, fiction and belief: What is real, what is a lie, and what to make of everything they've come to accept in their lives.

:O:

:O: The BLOOD Saga: Night :O:

:O: