can't edit your soul

A sly smirk had spread across her blood stained lips as her index finger slid over the ornately carved dagger she gripped in her right hand. Anticipation danced within his shadowed eyes as she lapped the crimson liquid from her own pale skin, teasing him with a vigor he was far too familiar with. Such power games were common sport between the two of them behind castle walls, and as the blade danced across his chest, the Count thought to himself that he would not alter it even if she were to be the death of him. 

𝔇enn die todten reiten schnell. In the heart of Transylvania sits the castle of Count Dracula. Feared by many and entered by few, the townsfolk often look upon the stony walls with horrified distate, as all know the legends of what goes on within its towers. The Count and his Countess often hire townsfolk in the bulk to serve them, making promises of bounty and protection for their familiar in order to lure their victims into their bloody web. Once their prey makes an entrance in the dark Transylvanian court, they are surprised with pleasant yet false hostility, as the Draculas enjoy playing with their food before feasting upon it. When pleasantries have run their course, the Countess will often demand that the prisoner be given to her as a play toy, in which the torture will ensue while Dracula watches with enticement. After all, what the Countess requests, the Countess is given. And so together they feast upon the living, slowly securing their thrones through trickery and murder, eternally living in beautiful damnation.