Anya Taylor Joy

 

Anya is at gala with her husband, Malcolm. A stranger walks over, asking her to dance. Her eyes, her ethereal eyes, suddenly grow hazy. She takes his hand. They dance, she seems lost in it until he says something that startles her. He whispers in her ear about the Diezmo Del Sangre. Anya’s famous wide eyes grow wider in horrified recognition. And excuses herself, looks for Malcolm, saying they need to leave.

Malcolm ask her what what was all about, but she's afraid he won't believe her, that's she's talking nonsense. Try him. She regales the stories from her Abuela. About how her great grandfather made a pact with a stranger for prosperity. And it seems the stranger delivered on his end, the family did indeed become wealthy. Magnates. Diplomats...movie star. Her abuela knew, ever since Anya was a child, her otherworldly beauty, her haunting eyes her supernatural interests, she world be the one. Like a tree that would one day bear the most succulent dates. She doesn't know how she can stop this. Malcolm is skeptical but he loves her, will support her. He says no bedtime story will get her.


Malcolm patiently stands by as she researches lore. Wardings. Counter curses. He’s more than a little unnerved how naturally it all comes to her. Eventually she says the right ingredients are at a shop just outside the city limits. As they’re about to leave, something overcomes Anya. Shes about to pass out. He takes her to bed, says he’ll get the items, she should get some rest, even as she weakly pleads for him not to leave her.

Malcolm heads to the storefront. The clerk recognizes the items, makes his own suggestion. Malcolm says it’s for his wife, it makes her feel safe. The clerks eyes widen. He left her alone? He's quickly rushed out the door, when he finds his car won't start. Meanwhile Anya spends all day, in a pained lull, unto the sun goes down. She gains a little composure, when she's met with a voice.


Dracula steps forward. She is his. Anya says it’s isn’t fair, she doesn’t belong to anyone. She has her own life, she shouldn’t be bound to an agreement made almost a hundred years ago. Dracula strokes her, his hypnotic powers subtly combining with just plain manipulation. Is it fair to break a promise? To steal? Hasn’t her family prospered? Shouldn't she be grateful? Whether because of Dracula’s lose, her own dark desires, or the contracts magic that has germinated within her, Anya yields and Dracula claims her, her blood truly tasting like generations of preparation. Anya cries out in her native tongue.


Malcolm arrives, exhausted, panting, a trek that was supposed to be minutes turned to hours, finally hitchiking his way to his own door. He charges into the house and he hears. Anya's voice, moaning, crying out. He opens, horrified, heartbroken out at the sight. His wife, accepting her fate, only glancing over at her husband to say one thing.



As Dracula finishes, Anya's head lolls back, her famous eyes made more still by the lifeless serenity. He carries her, taking her to his current hiding place, placing her into her coffin. He steps into his own, satisfied at his rightful pact being secured, and the exquisite bride he has claimed.


Explore Anya's awakening, her eerie vampiric beauty accentuating the haunting beauty she had in life, like the final coating on an unfinished painting.



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