"Would you like me to dress you?"
"No," he said all too quickly, picking up a deep red undershirt. "I'm not terribly useless on my own."
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In a little village, there was a castle where a young man lived. He hardly left his abode and the...
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(Be sure to listen to the song) ___________________________________________________
The chirping birds vocalized their extraordinary tone and vexatious songs accompanied by all the other critters with their personalized verses. Oh, but the birds... The birds were the ones more prominent than the rest -probably due to them being closer to the glass that separated the outside world from the old smelling inside- which caused a young-looking jet-black-haired man in his silky bedspread to grunt and curse, not quite aspiring to be up just yet. He concealed his deathly pale face from the wretched sun by using his right arm to protect his eyes because the light was giving him a headache. The man associated that he must haul himself out of bed to close the drapes, so his pale white skin doesn't get greatly sunburnt -which meant that the tiredness would fade, making him frown even more- and he already perceived the fact that he didn't want to deal with that all day.
Swearing once more before he pivoted out of the bed -shirtless- with a humongous thud; he had laid there on the ground for a solid minute then hoisted himself onto his feet with an annoyed groan. As the sun pierced into his room which caused him to narrow his eyes a fraction in order to see thoroughly, he indolently sauntered over to the giant window that was closest to his bed.
The icy stone floor pacified his remarkably heated feet down as he shut the daylight out. He caressed the back of his head because of an inadequate throbbing sensation building from deliberately dropping out of his bed.
While there was a sequence of knocks sounding from the door behind him, the man bowed his head upon the now carpeted window. When he didn't call out to indicate that he wasn't resting, a modest voice, that sounded like a blooming young woman, had inquired, "Master Dracula, are you conscious? Because I have brought you clean attires for the day." She hesitated for a moment, anticipating for an acknowledgement from him, before proceeding, "While you get prepared, I will be retrieving your breakfast, sir. On the menu-"
"Just enter," he responded, exhaustingly; his voice filled with an obscure accent and a sparse lisp from his fings. Without additional notice, the astonishingly massive door grated open to exhibit a woman with red curled hair, rust-coloured eyes, and a lively white complexion as she had freckles spreading across her nose, unlike her master. She possessed a servant outfit and in her arms, there was a suit that contained the colour of deep blood red and the shade of black that harmonized with his hair with imperceptibly richer black stripes. The thing going for Drac was the abs, which weren't too defined, on him as with his amber eyes.
As she advanced her way deeper into his room, he had composed himself and rotated casually in the direction of the girl right when the maid scattered his clothes on his mattress. "I'll close the rest of these windows for you, sir." He only dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand and sighed. "Are you sure you don't want me to tend to the others?"
