#i need to sharpen the yellow paint around his eyes. the border is a bit jagged rn

[catboymachinegun]

tomochao, my precious omochao (his wind-up works)

[the-dimitrescu-seamstress]

Help Wanted, A Prequel

(Mun here! I’ve been a bit busy writing drabbles and finally finished one up. It’s the backstory of how Magda came under the employment of House Dimitrescu.

One thing I’ve noticed is that pre-castle Magda is a bit more rough around the edges than seamstress Magda. I hope you all enjoy it.)

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The shuttle bus rolling to a stop was what woke Magdalena from her slumber. Normally, she didn’t fall asleep on such rides but the night train from Bucharest to Bistrița hadn’t exactly been restful. But, to its credit, the bus had been mostly empty.

Mostly.

As what seemed to always be the rule with nearly empty buses, an older woman just had to sit next to her. It didn’t matter that there were plenty of other empty seats she could have chosen from. No, she decided to sit right next to Magdalena… and then proceed to talk almost incessantly about to her family, to the point where the younger woman had to fake falling asleep.

Except that in faking it, she actually eventually succumbed to her tiredness.

Looking out the window, Magda rubbed her eyes and blinked, more than a bit confused at the sight of trees closer than they should have been if they were at a rest stop. Which they were not.

The bus was parked in the middle of an unpaved mountain road, the motor turned off, and the driver standing over her. Also noticeable was the fact that, aside from herself and said looming driver, there were no other passengers on the bus.

“Did we break down?” Magda asked cautiously, sitting up.

“There was a rock slide on the main road, closing it down,” he replied, a little too casually. “This is the detour. The other passengers decided to wait at the last rest stop for a bus back, but you had no complaints, so I continued.”

“I had no complaints? I was asleep! And now we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Why the hell hadn’t anyone woken her up? Even the woman who tried to talk her ear off. Magda just loved and appreciated the everlasting kindness of strangers.

“Exactly. And since you’re my only passenger, we should talk. If you want to keep going, you’ll need to pay more.”

“Keep going?! We’re on a dirt road!” she yelled. “Where the hell are we even going?!”

“That is a good point,” he answered, scratching his chin. “We’re on the side of some mountain. You’ll need to pay me to get back to the main road. And civilization.” Magda blinked, dumbfounded. Was he really trying to extort her for more money?

Looking out the window, she stalled for time in order to think of a solution that didn’t involve punching the driver in the face. She didn’t have money; certainly not enough he would consider worth his time and effort. If he knew that, it was possible he’d want a different form of compensation, and she wasn’t about to give that up for him. As Magda mulled over her options, something caught her eye through the trees. It was the turrets of a rather imposing castle. She then saw the turning blades of a large windmill a bit further off, as well as smoke curling from what looked like modern chimneys nestled in the shadow of the castle.

Smoke meant civilization, people, and a potential alternate exit from this hellhole of a scenario.

“I’ll take my chances walking,” she informed the driver while standing up with her bag and doing her best to shoulder past him hard in one swift motion. She almost made it to the door too before being roughly grabbed and pulled back.

“There are wolves and other things in these woods that will happily eat you right up, little girl,” the driver growled, his breath a bit too warm and close to Magda’s neck for comfort.

“Better there than here,” she countered, shifting her weight into him while delivering an elbow to his ribs and the heel of her palm sharply to the side of his nose. It might not have exceedingly effective, but it was enough to escape his grip, as well as the bus. Once outside, Magda did her best to put distance between herself and the road, scrambling through the woods and undergrowth. For all she knew, the driver could have been armed and more than a little pissed off.

After running for a bit, she jumped down an embankment and paused, catching her breath while listening. There were no sounds of pursuit, which she was grateful for, and after a few tense minutes, she heard a motor fire up and the bus drive away.

Now she was well and truly stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Yes, there was absolutely a sudden reaction of ‘what the fuck did you just do, Magdalena?’ but that thought was shushed as worry about the other alternative was brought up as a brief counter-argument. It was the lesser of two evils. Besides, there was the nearby town. Perhaps they had vehicles to rent or someone would be nice enough to drive her to the nearest train station. Hell, if the castle was any indication, maybe it was a local tourist destination with a proper hotel where she could get cleaned up and spend the night.

At least that was what Magda had intended and hoped for.

It was safe to say that she hadn’t dressed for a hike through the woods, but rather a walk through the metropolitan area of a well populated city. Thankfully, she had the decency to wear sensible boots. It was also safe to say that, when it came to mountains, distances were deceiving. Yes, it wasn’t that far to the town, as the crow flew, but for Magda, there were some unexpected ups and downs. Eventually she came upon what looked to be an old farm trail, which saved her ankles from being rolled too much. Either way, by the time she reached the town, she was more than a bit tired.

Not that it could even be considered a town.

It was more like a village, and a poor one at that. Or perhaps one that still lived in a era where not much had changed since the Soviets had marched through. If you were from a more cultured or modern city, it was sometimes still a shock, and a sobering one at that, to see that there were still areas where the horse and cart were still just as prevalent as more modern modes of transportation, and they cut hay with scythes that they had just sharpened by hand that morning. Being away at school and traveling the various cities of Western Europe had spoiled Magda.

The roads were all dirt and gravel or rather, due to a recent rain, gravel and mud. This was a gray mud that was somehow both slippery and sticky, grabbing hold of Magda’s boots at any chance it got. The houses, though in decent shape, were old and worn. Fresh coats of blue, yellow, white, and red paint gave life to wood that was otherwise weathered with that unmistakable brown-grey color brought on by time. The fences, some metal, but most wood, were kept in good shape, as they were what contained the multitudes of chickens she saw, along with a few pigs, goats, and horses.

What Magda didn’t see much of were people. Yes, the village was inhabited, but as soon as she approached any of the residents, they all hurried inside their dwellings, shut the door, and ignored any attempts she made at communication.

“This is ridiculous! We are in Romania, right? You do speak Romanian? The damn bus driver couldn’t have crossed a border!” Magda yelled to no one. Even if he had been able to do so, the surrounding countries recognized the language she spoke. Clearly these people just hated outsiders. Mumbling a few choice words about hospitality, she continued into the center of town. If she could make it to the castle, maybe she could find out where the hell she was and learn exactly how she could get out of here.

The village square was as disappointing as the rest of the village. Aside from the roads converging, the only way she knew it was the village center was because of the statue. It was a crouching woman, armed with a sword and shield, clearly ready to do battle with… something unseen. The plaque read ‘Maiden of War’ which made Magda smile a little. When she was little, her grandparents had spoken about the village they were from having a statue of a warrior maiden. If this was the same village, it would be one hell of a coincidence. Though if the rest of their stories were to be believed, then the castle was home to a terrible monster. Actually, all the aristocrats were supposed to be monsters. As she grew older, Magda chocked that up to being a bit of resentment towards the ruling class, political upheaval, and whatever else would make overthrowing the elite easier in the minds of the populace.

Besides, even if they were monsters, the people in the castle had to be more helpful than the villagers.

The gate that separated the village from the castle grounds was large and impressive, with a carved relief depicting the warrior maid fighting a horned demon. The laugh that escaped her was brief, but maybe a bit harsh. This almost looked like something an American would put outside a castle in an effort to claim it belong to Vlad Tepes. All that was missing were the impaled bodies. Maybe this had been a failed tourist attempt, trying to ride the coattails of the many Dracula movies made over the years. Either way, the road to the castle looked well traveled and she could see faint lights in the windows, so someone must be living there.

As she made her way up the road, Magda re-evaluated the owner’s intentions yet again when she saw the grapevines. She knew absolutely nothing about vineyards and winery, but if one had an old castle with extensive cellars that were kept at a stable temperature, and the soil was good enough, why not start producing wine? It still didn’t explain why the locals treated her as such. Perhaps they were naturally wary of outsiders or just pissed off people in general. Not that it really mattered. She’d be out of their hair soon enough.

At a distance, the castle looked old, gothic, and imposing, but up close, Magda knocked a few hundred years off its age, moving it away from the mountain fortresses that waged war and stood against sieges in the Middle Ages to something more along the lines of the proverbial fairytale castles built in the 1700’s. Turrets, balconies, and large windows abounded. Once you looked past the dark exterior stone coloring, it was actually quite beautiful, and she spent a few minutes admiring the facade before making her way to the front door.

Though the small lion-headed door knockers looked purely ornamental, Magda still used them to announce her presence. After a second try and a few minutes without an answer, she made sure her boots were free of that awful mud before testing the doorknob. The door opened easily and silently, revealing a gorgeously ornate entry hall, centered on an alcove holding a painting of three young women.

“Three daughters… Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela,” she read quietly off the title plaque. White walls, with gilded details and carved woodwork; it all said this was either a home or a museum. Part of Magda hoped it was the latter, so she wouldn’t feel like she was intruding, but again, this didn’t fully explain the state of the village below… unless the person who owned this castle was some overly moneyed individual that looked down on anyone who couldn’t date their family history back eighteen generations and therefore didn’t care about commoners.

To the right of the entrance hall was a room containing an antique elevator. It was something that didn’t look to be in the best of shape, but then again neither was the room itself. Magda had a feeling it was left over from when the castle was built, probably used to move materials to the upper levels. The hallway on the opposite side of the entrance hall looked much more promising. At least for the time being.

The luxury of the castle continued on with inlayed wood floors, lace and brocade curtains, antique furniture, and art pieces scattered all about. Magda quietly made her way down the hallway, listening for any indication of people. The stillness that surrounded her was almost palpable. Which was probably why the normally soft sound of a door opening seemed as loud as a gunshot. Through the doorway at the bottom of the the stairs came a tall woman dressed all in black, with a hood pulled up in order to put her face and red hair in shadow.

“I am very sorry to intrude and disturb you, ma’am,” Magda apologized. “I was just looking for the owner of this castle or someone I could see about possibly getting a ride into a nearby city?” The woman just smiled and giggled a little as she started up the stairs.

“Awwww, you’re lost and looking for someone?” she crooned. “Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m someone.” That was when Magda noticed the sickle in the redhead’s hand and the bloodstains on both her face and dress. Then there was also the matter of her height. At first Magda thought it was just due to an odd angle, but as the other woman climbed the stairs, Magda realized she had to be well over six feet tall, possibly nearing seven. Alarm bells began ringing in her head.

“Oh! Oh, no… no, you see, I am very sorry. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but I am soooo very sorry for interrupting you. You’re clearly busy, so I’ll let you be,” she explained while quickly backpedaling the way she came, doing her best not to run, despite every instinct saying to do just that. What kind of place had she stumbled upon?

Magda’s steady retreat stopped when she backed into something unexpected. Risking a look behind her, she saw another equally tall woman, dressed almost identically to the redhead, only this one was a brunette, and the look in her eyes was more of a predatory nature. As if she were choosing the right cut of beef off a cow.

Her exit blocked by the brunette, Magda did a stupid thing and bolted for the nearby double doors. She touched the handles just as they burst open, revealing a third individual. Turning to run, arms encircled Magda, pulling her back and holding her tight.

“Never have we had prey come to us so eagerly,” the third woman, a blonde, said with a loud laugh and manic grin. She then leaned in close and inhaled deeply, causing Magda to flinch and close her eyes, going still in the woman’s arms. “I do so enjoy hot blood tinged with fear… Promise you’ll scream for me when I cut you open?” she whispered excitedly into her ear.

“And here I thought you never played with your food,” the brunette quipped drily. Magda could practically hear the blonde rolling her eyes.

“Just because you have what seems to be a perishingly limited imagination, Cassandra, that doesn’t mean that I have to share the same fate.” These two argued like siblings, while the redhead simply smiled and traced her fingers over and around the sickle she held, all the while watching Magda.

“You’ve never shared anything in your life. Why start now?” Cassandra countered.

“You are absolutely correct. Maybe next time you’ll be faster and finally get a bite.” As the blonde replied, the impossible happened. Part of the woman’s body dissolved… and turned into insects. She still held Magda close and tight, but her lower half had utterly disappeared into a swarming mass of flies. Then they suddenly took off together, flying through the castle. Whereas Magda had thought she might have been able to talk her way out of this situation prior to this insanity, now she was utterly filled with dread; a cold fear washing over her. What were these things? How was any of this even possible? Was this how she was going to die? All these thoughts were wiped away as she was dumped, a bit unceremoniously, on the floor of bedchamber.

“Mother… this was found wandering the halls.” The room was mostly dark, lit only by the roaring fire in the hearth. A feminine figure sat behind a desk littered with paperwork. Something was off about the woman. Maybe it was due a combination of the large hat she wore, the dancing shadows caused by the firelight, and the angle Magda was laying at, but something just didn’t look right, and she didn’t know why.

“Ma’am, I can explain. I was on a bus and the driver was trying to extort money from me, so I thought I’d have better luck with getting a ride in your town. The people there were less willing to help, so I came here. I swear I haven’t stolen anything,” she explained in a hurried fashion, hoping they could somehow reach an understanding.

“ ‘My town’? How quaint of you to say that.” The woman’s voice and small chuckle that followed were both rich and cultured, with a foreign affected accent, like she had been educated somewhere other than Romania. Had she been? Did wealthy families still send their children abroad to study? “Whether or not you have stolen anything isn’t the issue, my dear. You are still trespassing, and I do not take kindly to those that trespass on my property.” With that, the woman stood up.

And up.

Magda’s face blanched as the woman’s head drew level with the top of the nearby canopied bed. She had to have been ten feet tall.

“Futu-i!” she yelled, scrambling back and away, only to bump, once again, into the brunette woman, the smiling redhead standing beside her. Hands roughly grabbed Magda, hauling her to her feet. “Ma’am, I’m sorry!” Her voice trembled with fear. “I knocked, but there was no answer and your door was unlocked. Had I known, I wouldn’t have entered, I swear. Please don’t kill me.” That last sentence was said in a pathetic whimper which made the lady smile in a manner that was both pleased and terribly cruel-looking. As if she had heard that request time and time before.

Magda’s stomach sank as she realized she likely had.

The blood stained dresses and sickles were one indication. Her eyes wandered, finding more. There were unusual dark spots on the rug and shackles by the fire. Their impossible height and ability to change into insects. As impossible as it seemed, these women weren’t human. Did vampires really exist? Magda was so in shock and distracted by that thought that she didn’t realize what else was going on until she felt a pressure draw across her left wrist. She blinked. The blonde was holding a knife and Magda could see blood welling up on her wrist. Oddly enough, there was no pain. Just the blood flowing easily and freely.

A large, leather gloved hand cupped her wrist in a firm yet gentle manner. For as lavish as the home decor was, Magda couldn’t help but notice how less than ideal the state of the tall woman’s dress was. The buttons at her wrist were loose, and the fabric? Although it was clean, there were minute stains either from food, in terms of her sleeves and bustline, or from general dirt, if her hemline was any indication. She also saw small repairs where a seam had popped or a tear had formed. It wasn’t the worst stitching she’d seen, but it could have been better. Why was a woman this rich wearing clothing repaired many times over? Yes, she had to have everything custom made, but that surely wasn’t an obstacle, was it?

The lady’s head suddenly dipped into view and almost immediately her tongue was felt along Magda’s wrist. She hissed in pain, forgetting all her questions, and unintentionally tried to pull her hand away, but to no avail. The lady’s grasp was incredibly strong and, in that moment of resistance, they locked eyes.

She had a dread beauty about her. Pale white skin, coal-black hair, deep crimson lips made that much darker by the blood, and eerily captivating yellow eyes. Even with her life currently on the line, Magda was absolutely taken by her.

The tasting was brief, lasting no more than a few seconds. The tall lady stood there for a quiet few moments before making a small hum of approval.

“Take her to the cellar and drain her,” she said in a dismissive manner and a flick of her hand. Almost immediately, Magda found herself being dragged towards the door and to her doom. For what it was worth, she did put up a good fight. Having a brother five years her senior gave Magda the knowledge of how to defend against someone bigger and stronger than her. It probably had been a good thing that, up until this point, she had been nothing but meek and quiet. However, despite her valiant effort and a surprisingly well placed elbow to the brunette’s midsection, she found herself pinned and being dragged away once more.

They say that the strangest things can come out of a person’s mouth when they’re in danger. That they would promise anything just to live a little while longer.

Magda clearly was not an exception to that particular rule.

“Wait!” she exclaimed. “Wait! Your dress! I can make it better! I can do better than whoever you have on hand with your current repairs. I went to school for this! I was on my way to Cluj-Napoca to work at the National Opera as a seamstress!” A slight lie. The National Opera had said to check back with them in six months to a year for a chance at an opening. Until then, she had secured a gig at the North Theatre in Satu Mare. “I know how to sew and I know how to draft patterns! Let me live and I swear I will make you the most beautiful wardrobe made out of the finest fabrics I can find. If money is not an obstacle, I will have you wearing the best silks, satins, brocades, and whatever else pleases you!”

At that, the woman held up a hand and all movement in the room stopped. She studied Magda; scrutinizing and looking for any hint of a lie or falsehood. After a minute that seemed to be drawn out for an eternity, she finally spoke.

“A trial run. Two weeks. You’ll be shown to your new home and given tasks. Complete them,” she ordered. There was no leniency to those words or any sign of gentleness. She then stepped closer to Magda, looking down at her and using her height to cut an even more imposing figure. “Should you fail or try to run, you’ll wish you had died today,” she purred, showing off a wicked little grin. “Bela, tend to her wrist and then escort our new seamstress to her workshop. She has work to do.”

“Yes, mother,” the blonde said, stepping forward and quickly ushering Magda out of the room. Unlike the previous escorting, this time she was gentle. A hand pressing against the small of her back was all that was needed to keep Magda moving. Did she pay attention to where they were going? No. Should she have? Yes, absolutely, but she was still trying to understand what all had just happened.

The room they entered could have been a study or den, perhaps even a catch-all room if the miniature castle in the corner was any indication. Taking a seat at the desk, Magda made the mistake of glancing at her wrist. The incision was neat and clean, but blood had made little rivulet pathways all over her hand and wrist, while a smeared streak up her forearm indicated where the woman’s tongue had been. As if in response of being observed, the wound suddenly began to ache and throb. Magda quickly looked away, not wanting to risk passing out or becoming sick.

She hated the sight of her own blood.

Bela, meanwhile, retrieved a small medical kit from a locked drawer. She then proceeded to carefully and systematically clean almost the entirety of Magda’s forearm and hand, even going as far as checking under her fingernails.

“Five minutes ago, you were fantasizing about drinking my blood,” Magda commented.

“That was five minutes ago,” she answered matter of factly before applying the iodine. It stung and Magda reacted accordingly as every normal human did, by wincing in pain. “Hold still,” Bela ordered, positioning her arm back under the desk light. The suturing of the wound once more made Magda turn away and examine the contents of the room in great detail.

“If this is enough to turn your stomach, then for your sake you had best been telling the truth to mother. She abhors liars.”

“I was telling the truth, I swear it,” the quiet reply came, the reality of her situation now sinking in. Bela made a small, noncommittal noise.

“You should also be careful with how you swear.” Advice now given, the wound was quickly covered in a piece of gauze and neatly wrapped.

“Thank you,” Magda offered. Bela gave no response, only putting the medical kit away and gesturing for Magda to accompany her out of the room. The taller blonde allowed no time for her to look around, keeping the pace at a brisk walk… for her. With her height and longer strides, that meant Magda had to almost jog in order to keep up.

The workshop was…quite the state. It was obvious that no one had been working in here for a rather long time. Magda didn’t know what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Cobwebs, dust, and machinery that, if she were lucky, would actually manage to function for the next two weeks. She wanted to sigh. She wanted to scream and cry or do something that would at least alleviate the frustration of her current situation. However, Bela was probably expecting that, maybe even looking forward to it, just so she could run off to tell her mother and then start sharpening their knives for dinner.

So instead, Magda simply took a deep breath and nodded. “This… will do. Bring whatever items you need repaired and I will take care of them.” There was a drone of insects taking flight behind her and, by the time she turned to look, all Magda saw was the tail end of an insect swarm leaving the room. Once the sound had subsided, she quietly closed the door and sat against it, trying not to cry or to think about the fresh hell she was just been thrown into and what would happen if she failed during these next two weeks.