But I have a rather...big imagination...and..well.. I love my mythical creatures, and I love turning realistic happenings into something else when I'm bored. So, since this information was new to me and I had to wait for a bit before I could leave the campus, I came up with something playing on the vampire rumor surrounding this countess. And, thanks to this post I found a place that, I think, works quite well for my idea. I also found a simply lovely part of that place that just gorgeous and gave me an idea for something involving IC stuff that I will be sure to implement at some point in the future, if not I'll just drag someone about OOC. We shall see what works. But this picture is in one of the different areas about at Skyfall. And below it will be the story that sprung from a history class of all places.
Abigail was simply a youth to most, but enough yet knew of how her mother had been a servant to Elizabeth Bathory, The Bloody Countess. Her mother was one of those killed simply because she brought girls to the Countess to kill. Abigail's mother did this to protect her, and, thankfully, even with being killed by her Lady, her daughter was safe.
Or so she had hoped.
It wasn't the rumors of witchcraft in her blood that had twelve year old Abigail meet her fate, nor the whispers of vampires loyal to their trapped Countess, not even the nightmares of werewolves, but rather Elizabeth herself.
By this point in the girl's life, the Countess had been locked in her tower for near four years. But on a late night, Abigail rose from her bed, thinking to hear her mother humming a song that always brought her comfort. She wandered the small house, careful to not wake her father or siblings, but she could not find the source of the sound. Out the door she went with her cloak pulled tight, her auburn hair hidden by a hood, and a torch lighting her way through the strangely empty streets.
Somehow she came upon Elizabeth's tower and the hole that served as a window and a passage for food. The humming came from inside it did seem. Now, little Abigail knew it could not be her mother, but she was curious and terrified all at once. How could she have heard humming form her room when the tower was not but so close? "Hello?," she whispered, checking for guards and seeing none.
"Dear, sweet Abigail, I have been waiting to meet you for some time," a soft voice crooned from the hole. A moment later, Erzsebet's face peered through the small window, causing Abigail to jump back, the glow of the torch flinging strange shadows upon the woman's face. A terrifying, vampiric visage framed by stone. "Do not fear, my child, I only wish to ask something of you."
"A-ask of your children or followers, I wish for nothin' of your acquaintance," Abigail replied, attempting, and failing, to sound brave.
"My children do not wish to help in such a way I want, and my followers are lazy. But you share the blood of your mother, a strong, hardworking woman. She thought I did not know of her witch daughter, but I did. I never commanded she bring you to me, so you owe me your life."
"I owe you nothin'. You killed my Ma, so nothin' is owed." By this point Abigail could hardly breathe for the fear in her, let alone move, even overlooking the insult of being a called a witch.
"I did not kill her, but rather helped her escape," the Countess replies in her breathy voice, clearly weak from the years trapped, "You must know how rumors of her cursing people were beginning to spread. I cared for Jane, and I can offer you to see her, to live a long life, whatever you want most, lovely girl."
Abigail wasn't certain if she could trust a murderer, a woman clearly mad. But perhaps the tales of vampirism were true, which meant she was not mad, simply following nature and God's will. Following His will as well an unholy creature could, of course. But that could mean her mother lived. It was known that, if her father could collect enough for a proper dowry, she would be married off soon, or simply stay a burden on his shoulders. If she were with her mother....
This prospect caught the girl like a fish on a hook.
She nodded only, and a smile spread onto the Countess's lips, a plan spilling from them soon after to Abigial's waiting ears.
Perhaps one day the epilogue will be known, but for now comfort lies in the thought that Erzsebet Bathory is dead and gone, nothing more but a mad woman who yearned for youth.