Dirt Nap's room is beyond spare. It has a long, black leather covered storage bench, and opposite that, a single black folding chair. The closet door is shut, and there is no other furniture in it. The interior of the bedroom walls and the doorway are covered in 'blackout curtains', possibly covering up any windows and definitely muffling all sounds.

Dirt Nap kneels in the open space beneath the cover of the storage bench; it is filled with soil from the grounds surrounding the Chapter House of the Ordo Dracul. His hands are in front of him, extended. Blood drips from his arms, down into the soil. There are no cuts or openings for the blood to come from; it seems to seep directly from his skin.

He falls forward, using the last margin of vitae to transform himself physically, to become part of the blood soaked dirt. He will either awaken Changed to be able to wake with less vitea than should be required, or he will not awaken at all.

The lid falls shut, softly on pneumatic hinges.

The day passes, and then the night, and another day. On the third sunset, there comes a stirring from within the long, narrow bench. A great gasp of intake of air, and a groan and stifled, willfully stopped scream. Only tremendous willful effort clamps down on frenzy, and then with a loud *CRACK!* the bench falls apart, spilling dirt and dried blood and a body onto the bare floor.

Dirt Nap lies still, forcing himself to focus first on the floor, then slightly moving, on the wall, then finally, rising, he rinses himself off, dresses, and goes out to feed on the herd of horses he has cultivated, distributed in the area. When he returns, sated, hours later, he has just time enough to clean up thoroughly, and deposit fresh soil in the new bench, to slink into the the dirt to spend his first day with his new, Changed self in more easy slumber than he had ever had before, the beginning of the Coil of Blood attained.