A broken, unbroken heart. Imaginary dialogues with Bram Stoker's Dracula.
L: My lord; have you ever thought about your heart? Noble and obscure, enveloped in brambles and thorns, pulsing with life which is not its own, blackened by time and thirst: countless the heroes who wounded you, worthless the merchants who try to steal your cerulean crown. Cold and impenetrable: it brings adamantine strength to our immortal souls.
Where does my puzzle lies then? Why man kind is unable to respect our rank? Are we the ones incapable of understanding, we, bloody antagonists to their loving Gods? Are not love and lust just the same as mortal sacrifice? Where does my right to exist start or come to end, in the worldly count of stolen lives? Oh master, help me understand.
D: Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!
L: Untameable creatures, we are: galloping across lands and seas, charged with devastating energy, inflamed phoenixes dying and living many other lives. Are we destined to dance other dances?
D: There is a reason why all things are as they are.
L: I just need some time to figure it out.
D: I want you to believe...to believe in things that you cannot.