Blood was many things.<br/><br/>But above all, to all species, blood was life. But to vampires...blood was the life. They perhaps understood this more then any other species. For they must always consider the next feeding, must always fear that pangs of fatigue and unrest are the signs of a hunger, a thirst, about to hit. Blood was always on the mind, hanging in the back of it. Never quite gone from their thoughts. Even when they slumbered, in the tapor between death and life, the thought of blood remained. Within that jostled coffin something stirred. Something out of time and history. One of the secret's of Carpathia come back to life.<br/><br/>Summoned up by the smell of blood.<br/><br/>For centuries it had slept and hungered. As those eyes cracked open, and as the eerie-corpse light of the Strigoi washed out from them....it saw red. It felt hunger beyond hunger. Everything was filtered through it, through that thirst.....and through the delightful and utterly entrancing smell of freshly spilled blood. That shadowy shape, that ghoul from the darkest places, locked onto Bray. Onto that sweet smell of blood. There was a sound, a growl. Menacing and queerly...needy. Desperate. Pathetic and frightening at the same time. A sound of complete, feral<i>want</i>.  The kind of sound a starving wolf might make.<br/><br/>Then it lunged forward, fangs flashing once more. In seconds, it one Bray's neck. Fangs sinking into tender male flesh-blood washing into it's mouth. The blood flowed and flowed, down the vampire's throat. Into it's veins. And gradually.....the red faded. Not entirely. No. The vampire was far far too hungry for that. Far far too desperate...but....it was enough for some thoughts to stir. For the beast to regain some of the man he once was. Almost imperceptibly, those corpselight eyes softened. The vampire's movements became more delicate. The desperate feeding slowed to a mild supping.<br/><br/>Then, with a sigh, fangs detached from the unfortunate human's neck.<br/><br/>Adal Von Strahd looked down his victim. Bled nearly white. He would lose consciousness soon...but he would live. Slowly, gently, he has raised a hand to the man's cheek. A cold comfort, he was sure, but one he felt compelled to offer. "...Sleep now, mortal. The wolves shall not vex your slumber."