Seaside Moors in russia tragedy, everybody die

Rosalyn didn't recognize him until he spoke, and even then, for a second she thought she misheard.  But that accent was unmistakeable and unforgettable.

Vlad!?  She immediately took a step forward, then stopped again.  This was a turn.  It was good to see him, but that good was mixed with a whole lot of what the fuck.  He'd left without a single word and then, what?  

You're grey, she answered, but the sharp edge wasn't there.  All she really had right now was shock and confusion.  What the hell are you doing here?