Those who were perhaps a bit more familiar with the legend or who, God rest their souls, had any form of first-hand experience with the mistresses’ elaborate entertaining of unwanted guests, would try to paint a picture of more colors – they would go on and on about the languorous tortures of poor victims, the thralling of beautiful women with blood both addicting and corrupting, or even the bone-grinding hunger that sat at the pit of a forevermore empty stomach, digesting its host from the inside out. A short and simple reply to describe a large and frightening problem. If an innocent bystander were to be asked to describe the daily happenings that befell the Dimitrescu bloodline, they might decide to err on the side of caution and limit their answer to a plain “gore, death, and unspeakable sorrow”.
