((Well, you never know. And no worries about the length! Oh, would have replied earlier but had research papers I had to handle first.))
The room was rather cold, as if life and the heat tied with it was drained from the very walls. Every item appeared untouched, placed in very specific areas around the room. Laying in the corner was a pallet of black garbage bags, contrasting harshly with the virgin snow carpet. Lillium was laid upon it, still dressed in her previous attire caked with dried blood. The bodily fluid almost blended in with the walls, which were a rich crimson, as were the curtains (although there were no windows, they hung from corner to corner for decoration) and various other details of the room. If it wasn't red, it was then white, or black, complimented with candles flickering faintly from the walls. There was warm, romantic feel about the room despite its icy temperature. Directly in the center of the room was a large, king sized canopy bed, dressed in a white silk bed spread, with red trim and pillows.
Alistair was sleeping, sprawled upon the mattress, his features at complete ease. The sun was up, and so he was resting, waiting until the blanket of night laid upon the Earth once more. Until then he would rest as long as he was able to, yet he knew he would be woken up soon. He assumed the human would wake from her unconciousness and he was unwilling to leave her somewhere Matthew would be able to care, or free her if given the chance. He would handle his own toy, and break it if he pleased, so with the doors locked and no windows for the girl to escape, Alistair was sure he would wake when she started moving.
Which was exactly what happened.
Just like he had anticipated, Lillium began to stir, groaning and trying to move. The bags crinkled under her shifting weight and the eyelids of the vampire shot open in response. He took no action, mearly listening to hear if she would roll over and close her eyes, or if she was up for good. Waiting for a few minutes, curiousity would no longer allow him to wait and he sat up to get a visual.
'She was much prettier when the blood was fresh,' Alistiar mused silently, mentally shrugging, but finding her appealing none the less. He wondered what she looked like fresh, and so he gracefully slid off the bed. Without the evidence of his prescence stuck to her skin, would she be more desirable had he not hurt her? Simply with the possibility of being stained, would that appeal to him?
"Bath." He whispered, turning abruptly and heading towards a door to the right of the room. Opening it, there was a large, luxurious bathroom, with a tub big enough to fit a party. The sound of rushing water echoed inside the room, and Alistair went back to the doorway and saw that she was still concious.
"Can you walk?" He lifted a single eyebrow in question, crossing his arms with a smirk. "Or shall I carry you again?" He reached out with one arm, signaling for her to come to him. If she refused, he would just go get her like before. There was little room for compromise.