[Alucard doesn't say anything. Instead, he looks ahead, and closes his eyes for a moment. What appears is the typical peasant village of Wallachia. Small. Rural. Smoke coming out of a few chimneys, but that is it.
In a moment, it dissolves. Becomes a castle of impossible proportions, with turrets attached only by corridors and no supports. It towers. Menaces. Demands attention for the skill in creation but invites no visitors.
The little doors on the castle open, and the model that seems to disappear into itself. Zooming in through the doors, beyond the grand entry way, and into a library of gleaming brass and perfectly kept bookshelves, inventions that are fully contemporary on display including lights and telescopes. The image lingers.]
My father spent 400 years of immortality inventing. Improving. Creating things that the rest of humanity will take centuries to achieve. That spirit was the best of him.
I don't know how I didn't recognize that same resonance before now.
no subject
In a moment, it dissolves. Becomes a castle of impossible proportions, with turrets attached only by corridors and no supports. It towers. Menaces. Demands attention for the skill in creation but invites no visitors.
The little doors on the castle open, and the model that seems to disappear into itself. Zooming in through the doors, beyond the grand entry way, and into a library of gleaming brass and perfectly kept bookshelves, inventions that are fully contemporary on display including lights and telescopes. The image lingers.]
My father spent 400 years of immortality inventing. Improving. Creating things that the rest of humanity will take centuries to achieve. That spirit was the best of him.
I don't know how I didn't recognize that same resonance before now.