[Worm]

William tried his best to make up a smile for his beloved, however the strange encounter had left him a bit - out of place. His hair seems slightly shifted from where it naturally sat, his eyes held secrets that he hadn't yet deciphered. When Emily burst through his shifted vision, his fake smile warmed into a heartened grin. "Yes, well. The woman's a bit of a loon, I must admit." He kicked his shoes to loosen any dirt before stepping over the mantle into the house. He placed his coat onto the coat hanger next to the door and swept up Emily in an extended hug.

"You look magnificent, my dear." He held her at her arms, looking deep into her eyes. He was relieved to come home to such a wonderful woman. She was intelligent, graceful and beautiful. Someone so unique, that he wouldn't let anyone have her. "And yes, the sale went well..." He tried to resurface memories of his experience, but he struggled. "Though Miss Ward does have peculiar interests. I'm not sure why anybody would want to start a business outside of town. I've given her a few days to decide between two Welsh properties. Both secluded..." He sighed, grabbing Emily's waist and walking into the living area. He noticed Rosamund and bowed his head. "Good evening, Rosamund." He smiled, just to turn back to his fiancé.

"Darling, would you fetch me some water? I'm feeling a bit drained after that - experience." He sat down adjacent to Rosamund, leaving her in awkward silence once Emily let the room. He didn't intend to make the girl uncomfortable, but he was rather loyal and monogamous and didn't like speaking to women in an informal matter, especially when his fiancé was around the corner.

---

The shrieks of rebirth bubbled beneath the messy blob of a chrysalis. After feeding, Elizabeth would sleep. It was a welcomed experience, as she never slept unless she fed. She dreamt of her human life. It wasn't much better than the hell she had resigned to. She was a child bride, born in nobility. At age 11, she was to be wed to a man twice her age. Even then, her eyes were turned away from the opposite sex. When her husband was away at war, she finally had some solace. She had borne two children by the age of fifteen, both given away. She had only one love in her exhausting two centuries of damnation, and when Elizabeth saw Isabel's face - it chilled her lifeless body into a deep numbness.

They were both still girls, Elizabeth with more responsibility than she could manage. She took care of the people of Hungary from within the confines of her wedding gift, the Csejte castle. The war against the Ottomans would eventually take her husband, leaving her with more wealth, more power, and more rage. She had repressed her feelings for years, and when Isabel was charged with indecency after rape, Elizabeth expressed her fury. She removed the girl and allowed her to live within the castle. Isabel was only 14 years old, Elizabeth 16. While managing the estate, she taught the girl to read and write. Elizabeth was proficient in four languages, and she taught Isabel what she could. This experience opened her heart. This was the first time she'd felt loved and needed. Even though the nation she cared for, might object.

When she saw Isabel's corpse lying face down in a pool of blood, she felt the wrath of God. The cold, pale face of her lover still scars her memories today. Like a loop she can never escape, the face of Isabel is in every girl she killed in futile revenge. Why, Isa? Why?

She killed hundreds and hundreds of girls, bathing in their blood as her sickness grew stronger. She wanted to wash away Isa's blood. She wanted to put an end to the aching inside. She heard the whisper of demons, and knew that God was no longer with her. Submerged in the bath, servants pouring blood over her statuesque body, she made the decision - whether conscious or not - to die. Drink Bathory, DRINK
And she drank.

The cold of 1876 England woke her from the dreaded nightmares. And though the sleep was restful, her heart was heavy once again. She knew that it would happen, as it did every time before. Isabel's face would never leave her. If only she could see it alive one last time...

Her own face was prim and youthful again, cheeks almost as pink as they were when she was alive. Her hair, golden once again. She took a deep breath, filling her chest with temporary reserves. This life was a mistake. All she wanted was revenge for the love that was taken from her.