Sitting atop a throne made of gold with crimson cushions from the finest of velvets, Fraignlein was swirling an almost empty wine glass; its contents almost completely gone with the exception of a few drops of blood.

The man let out a quiet sigh, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned to one side with his cheek on the palm of his hand, a bored expression plastered all over his handsome and ethereal face. He was almost out of food, or well, more precisely, blood. Though he was used to having a never-ending supply, today everything went dry.

Another sigh left his blood-stained lips as he finished the last few drops of blood which were left in the glass before his ears perked. The main door has opened, that's what he could tell, and someone was coming in.

"Tsk. What impudence. Where are their manners? Nevertheless... I suppose I should take this opportunity and get something to eat."

He mumbled quietly to himself, getting up from his large throne and walking down the long and dark hallways. His castle was ginormous, enough for someone to easily get lost in.