The Count watched the family leave with an odd look of hungry amusement on his face, anticipation mixed with longing in a way far too complex for his otherwise youthful visage. Finally, when he was alone with the other two women, he loosed a low, boiling chuckle. Malevolent at its core, that sound filled the room, hints of wicked things dancing hand-in-hand with insanity in his inhuman mirth.<br/><br/>Finally, turning with an impossible, boneless grace, the count took in both of his wonderful brides. Admiration, pride, and eternal lust shown on his face. One of the benefits of being frozen in time: the count never seemed to lose his desire for the women he’d turned. His petulance, greed, wrath, and all other failings remained just as crisp, however. Still, he felt the same pangs, the same longing, as before he’d turned either of the two of them and it showed, reinforcing his love and adoration of the pair. With a newcomer, nothing would change. The new one would just be potential competition for food and a playmate. That was all.<br/><br/>“The father, Jonathan. His mind is strong,” exhaling through sharp teeth, the count continued airily, admitting, “I have never been very interested in men’s minds though.” And then his smile blossomed, “Tell me, my darlings, what are your plans and hopes for that pure man?” It was often so, that the Count would lean in, listen to what horrors the women he loved, had tempted and corrupted, might cook up for their mutual amusement. The count was not a jealous man when it came to food.<br/><br/>As he waited for the reply, he found himself considering what he would do to capture Lyanna’s utter loyalty. Corruption might be fun, but then again, coercion could be a great ice breaker, to use a popular English term.<br/>