Mina Murray regarded the crucifix with the same approbation that she might have, in a previous life, given to a canister full of arsenic or molten lead. It sat on the edge of her nightstand in the small room that had been her home for the past two weeks -- one of the few knickknacks that hadn't in fact been a part of her luggage. She had never carried one personally and she was entirely unsure how it had come to be in this room, in this castle. It seemed rather like a rat keeping a rat-trap in their own home. And yet, the crucifix was there and she had been watching it for some time, waiting for a response to the query she had put to Vladimir Tepes Dracula.
We need an Impaler,
she had said -- in the moonlit graveyard that had been the site of her second birth into this world.
And he...had retired -- fled, more like -- and she hadn't seen him for some time. Instead, she and Lucy had been left to find their way back to the castle that had loomed above the graveyard, come to their chambers, and determine what to do with themselves there.
It was not an auspicious start to Mina's half formed plans at striking back against the Martians.
Lucy entered, then, wearing a vivid blood red dress that was cut as daringly as one could imagine -- her palms brushing through her hair. The remarkable transformation that she -- that they had both, really -- undergone was made all the more striking in the light of a fire, rather than the eerie, alien silver light of the moon. Lucy Westenra had been made voluptuous -- not curvier, per-say, but rather, more
aware
of her figure. She strutted now, bubbling with a confidence Mina found honestly rather jealousy inducing. That was almost more arresting than the pointed ears, the fangs, the chalk white skin, and the blood red eyes.
Lucy, seeing her, smirked. "Honestly, Mina, I always expected
you
to be the first dressed."
Mina realized, with a start, that she was still naked. Part of it was distraction -- the crucifix, Dracula's hurried vanishing, the Martians -- but a part of it also was...a sense of...
liberation
. Her skin felt the warmth of the fire, but the cold of the breeze from the window that would have sent her shivering and seeking a warmer garment than her own bare flesh had been transmuted by her new condition. Rather than shivering and goose-flesh, the cold caress was almost decadently luxuriant. It was as if the part of her brain that could feel the dull pain of chilliness had been
inverted
, so that the same sensation now provoked an opposite but equally delicious sensation as the firelight, which itself was
also
enhanced.
Her skin felt more alive and sensitive now than when she had had a heart beat -- and Mina found that realization to be both distressing and wondrous. She took the blankets up and wrapped them about herself and bit her lip hard to not let out a most unladly like moan of pleasure as silk caressed silk. "H-How do you bear wearing anything at all?" she muttered.
"I know, it feels like my entire life, I've been
feeling
through smoked glass!" Lucy said, laughing gaily. "I swear, everyone should become a vampire!"
"Then where might we-" Mina started, but the door to the room burst open and the wives of Dracula entered, Verona leading their chevron, with Aleera and Marishka to her left and right flanks. Each of them was glaring, but it was Verona who spoke up, grabbing onto Mina's ear and tugging her head upwards, as if she was an unruly child.
"What did you
say
to Vlade!?" she snapped.
"Let her go!" Lucy exclaimed.
"After everything he's given you!" Verona snapped.
"Ah!" Mina gasped -- finding that not every new enhanced sensation was as pleasant as cool breezes or silken dresses. Pain throbbed through her head and she snarled out. "Unhand me!" Her fingers clenched and she lifted one hand -- and swore, were her fingernails longer? But Verona didn't release her. Instead, she locked her eyes to Mina's and glared at her. Mina half expected to feel the crushing weight of a vampire's compulsion, as Dracula had used (admittedly, with her consent) upon her. Instead, Verona merely used the perfectly human intimidation that any strong willed woman might unleash...and Mina found that more than enough. "I-I asked him to help us with the Martians!"
"You asked him to go to
war
?" Verona released her, sounding disgusted. "Ugh! Humans! We should toss you out on your ears and let Hunters deal with you-"
"No, Verona!" Marishka exclaimed, grabbing their wife's shoulder. They had once again become that strange middle-ground betwixt male and female, human and bat, and their ears were quite expressive -- flattened back and quivering. "No, they're babies!"
Verona huffed, while Aleera spoke next, his voice quiet and moderating. "She doesn't know what it cost our dearest husband," he said, caressing Verona. "If they apologize-"
Mina, her hand going to her ear, feeling the still unfamiliar point of it, blinked, then glared. "Apologize!?" she exclaimed. "While your
husband
sits about playing at being some gentleman of leisure while sitting on the power of a god, Martians are crushing Britons and Frenchmen and Germans beneath their tripods. They're...t...they're
burning
people!" She felt her heart hammering, her hands clenching, and felt suddenly as if she had been reduced to a blubbering girl. She tried to speak, but her eyes were brimming with tears -- and she couldn't stop smelling that...that horrible, burned pork scent, and hear the screaming. Lucy swept to her side, and even Verona looked taken aback through the glittering haze that swept over Mina's eyes.