Escher Von Preshlow

Vows

The bard stared down at his reflection in the bathwater, made a disgusting murky brown just from sitting in it. He didn't move, he barely blinked, and he could barely even cry anymore. The castle was quiet, bar the mildly irritating rhythmic drip from the leaky bath tap and the gentle whisper of candlelight flickering in the wind of an empty draft.

Left to his thoughts, instead of bathing, Escher had just let the skin on his fingers prune. He pondered how he may never grow old enough to wrinkle again and how strange it was that it be part of the human experience he was to miss. The reflection too- though his face was the last he wanted to see at this time.

He wanted Enzo. And Finn. And Rumble and Togg.

He contemplated drifting back, submerging himself in the grimey water and taking a deep breath. How painless it must be than what may await him later. Though, the chill up his spine, despite the lukewarm water, informed him that perhaps he hadn't been the first to have had these ideas in this very bathtub. He traced the faint lines of swiftly disappearing scars from the fight only an hour before. Even the gut wound seemed insignificant now.

"I apologise for my intrusion..."

Escher did not look up to see the newcomer. But it had the voice of a woman, one he barely recognised. She entered into the Master's bedchambers, but could peer easily through the doors into the bathroom, where the man resided miserably.

Her footsteps began to approach. She walked confidently, her pace even and intentional.

"Our Lord Strahd is waiting... and you're barely clean." She sighed, stopping to stand above him, looking down upon him. The woman crossed her arms. "Would you like some assistance?"

Escher said nothing, just staring into the reflection. An image that was disturbed a moment later by ripples, as the woman carefully dipped a cloth into the water. She knelt beside the bathtub and took Escher's face in one hand, using the other to rub the rag upon his cheek.

They were silent for a while, as the woman dragged the cloth across his skin, slowly bringing the blonde back to his former glory. Escher didn't have the energy to lift his head, so sought out instead to see the woman's face in the water, but... the hairs on the back of his neck rose once he realised that she had no reflection at all.

He heard her tongue roll across her lips as she tilted her head, moving the rag back and forth, scrubbing. Gradually drifting her hand elegantly down his torso. The woman's hand lowered, dipping just below the waterline.

Escher grabbed her wrist, roughly, the splash causing the lady to wince.

"No." He said quiet and deadly serious, turning his head to face her. "Don't touch me, don't you dare touch me."

The woman's red lips curled into a seductive smile, fangs protruding between them.

"Soon bard, that word won't even be in your vocabulary." She leant inward, imposing, closing the space between them. "When you're one of us... you'll say, 'Yes, Anastrasya... anything'... "

Escher stared her down, unflinching. She visibly didn't like that, and snatched her wrist away. She flicked the rag back at him, it landed back in the bath, sinking below the surface.

"You'd better hurry, or our Lord will get impatient. It would be a mistake to leave him waiting at the altar." She stood in a huff, "Shame there'll be nobody sitting on your side of the chapel. But it's okay Escher, I'll take good care of you." She smiled one last time, before spinning on her heels and strutting towards the exit. "Towels on the chair on your right. I'll see you shortly."
...