.
"You look almost...feverish. Is there something going on?" He inquires, having set up camp for the night in a secluded part of the wood. "...Do you require blood? I would ask that you take mine, then, rather than venture far."
@vampirkiller
It had been a great deal of time since he last fed upon another living being. The act monstrous in the eyes of many men, yet it was what was needed in order to survive. Human food could be consumed, it was true, yet it did not satisfy the thirst that dwelled within. How man often basked in what they considered to be sins, gave way to temptation as a means to satisfy. Greed, lust, gluttony and the like- yet they could never begin to imagine what it was like, to be a monster like himself.
How his blood called to him, his pulse a never ending thrum, low and steady in his ears. Taunting, tempting, how it called to him as the night grew on. How he tried to deny it, that persistent craving lingering just beneath the surface, hoping they would have had chance to stop within a town where he could find anyone rather than the hunter at his side. His pet- his beloved, a man he could so easily drain dry, and continue longing for more. Yet he was not what so many believed- a beast, whose sole purpose was to destroy and consume any human in his path. No- it’s not what his mother saw in him, nor did the Belmont. A rare sort, capable of compassion for his kind- not human, yet not entirely monster. Understanding of his needs, it brought relief to know it was not disgust that filled him, but mere concern for his well being.
No doubt it was apparent upon his pallid facade, his gaze a distant haze as the gnawing ate away at his veins, tearing him apart slowly with the desire for blood. An apparent tension in his jaw, and the way his attention quickly darted his way, like daggers as they met his gaze, only to soften as a soft breath was exhaled within the silence. The crackling of wood could not compare to the sound of his pulse as it echoed in his mind, his senses keen and alight from their need to feed, the vampire ready to find its prey.
The hunter’s skin was warm, the smell of campfire hardly comparing to his own musky scent. Honed in on the man beside him, his approach was slow- conflicted with the matter of being selfish, versus being fed. It flickered across his features, like the dancing of the fire’s flames. How he longed for him- it was true, but there came a time where he worried, feared he was using him more and more for his own needs. The man did not deserve it, to be fed off time and time again, like his own personal blood bank. Yet he was always willing, always kind, his blood richer than any wine, the purest form of ecstasy he could find. No other human could compare, out of his many years of taking when it was needed. Ironic, to think a vampire hunter’s blood was truly the best of them all.
“It has been quite some time since I last fed off of another, Trevor. I had not foreseen our travels taking so long, I expected our arrival to the neighboring town to be sooner.” No doubt it would begin to show, like a human lacking sleep or food, even he too needed to be fed in order to survive. “Forgive me, Belmont..”
How it often came with such guilt, giving in to his more basic desires, acting upon instinct as he brought himself in close to the other. All it took was but a moment, before he was nestled between his thighs, the heat of the fire at his back, as lips began to ghost along the crook of his exposed neck. There he could admire his scent, a low and pleasured groan lingering in the back of his throat, faint, as he allowed his tongue to trace along the beating pulse of his neck. How he knew his body so well, time and time again falling for his greatest temptation. “Your sweet blood, it sings to me…” and how he could not deny himself such a pleasure any longer.
Fangs were careful, calculated as they pierced his flesh, a quick and painless prick, bringing with it pleasure to the one who was bound to receive it. Both allowed a moment of pure bliss, he, who had the luck of savoring such exquisite blood, eyes fluttering shut as crimson painted his lips and tongue. Erotic, hearing the hunter’s soft moans as he so eagerly submitted to his will. Without thinking, did his hips begin a slow roll against his own, gently guiding him to lay back, as he took control. ‘It will be over soon, my love.’ Within his mind he spoke to him, giving him the friction he knew he’d crave, body often so sensitive when he’d allow him to feed. A sexual charge, that came with being lovers, the privacy of the wood granting them peace and quiet, where only the crows could hear his cries of pleasure. All in time, however, as he eventually pulled away.
There he sat, on his knees before him, tongue slowly trailing, languid as he cleaned away the remains of blood, before looming over him once more. Eyes alight in the darkness, hair pooled in golden curls around them both, as lips locked with his, heated and intense. Every single blessed noise from his hunter would be lost, muffled as his dominance kept their lips locked, allowing the man to taste himself off his tongue. It was only when breath was needed that he broke away, meeting his gaze with a low chuckle. The flames of the fire licked at his back, their silhouettes dancing like ghosts through the mangled trees as he progressed, a hand delicate to trace the cut of his jaw as he spoke. “You are a sight to behold, Trevor Belmont.” How he was ready to repay him, in one of the few ways he knew how, really, as hands moved down his center, knowing well how to pleasure him, and planning on doing just that.
‘You are mine, as I am yours, forever, until my final breath.’
“ What you must remember, is that the only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. ”
dhampirblood-blog reblogged
she could make the entire village burst into flames and the residents would thank her for it. her steps about the ground, sullied with the blood and excrement of the people, are slow, languid, the gait of a woman that has all the time in the world to pick her prey apart, one by one. her wings and tail are concealed by a glamour, as is most of her figure. it wouldn’t do well to expose herself to the public in broad daylight, after all.
the succubus appears as a dainty young woman, billowing brown hair held up in a high bun while her curvaceous figure was obscured slightly by a long dress and a large overcoat to shield her from the winter’s chill that was more akin to a fair breeze than anything else. it’s not often that she converses with another inhuman, dracula’s hordes of demons preferring to stay far away from the stingy royal that walked through kingdoms as if she owned them.
“too many men for me to count, i’m afraid.” her voice is sweet and succulent, like honey, slow and oozing and wrapping around this fair stranger with the intent to choke and kill. but she is no fool. her charms are ineffective against one as astute as the son of dracula himself. “you’ve yet to pass through these lands. what brings the sudden change?”
“I suspected as much.” The reply is brief, emotionless, for hardly would he expect any less of her kind. How he’d seen so many like her, time and time again, blending into the human world, with a seemingly normal life. Such as their kind went, attempting to feign innocent, blend in with those so oblivious, that would live their brief little lives, blissfully unaware of that creatures lingered in plain sight.
Such as she stood before him, disguised as a blushing fair maiden, without blemish nor imperfection- surely any poor man’s dream, aching to devour her. Yet little did they know it would be the other way around, for those who deemed themselves wolves, had no idea of what lay further in the woods. How he could recall his mother’s warning about her kind, for it was not always lust they sought after, but to delve into his deepest fears and desires. Through glimpses of his mind he could recall her kind, wishing to hang off his father for the power he held- yet even he, a man who could have the world if he so desired, cared not for what any of them offered. It was his mother he loved, and for that, he held his respect.
“I’m in pursuit of my father, traveling with a group who share a common goal.” It felt almost risky, to confess to her these things- yet with luck she had no desire to harm him. The last thing he wanted was unneeded bloodshed, especially in simple passing through her town. “I’m sure the damage he’s done is no surprise to you- what with people running about, moving towns, desperate to escape his demon army. I’m sure that means more ‘company’ for you, a wider arrange of prey.”
dhampirblood-blog reblogged
whispers in the dark, liars, all of them, who trod all over everything he stood for, spat upon the crest he bore upon his back; even as he had gone to attain food and drink for them, he had had to conceal his true nature, that he was wallachia’s most despised – from one of the old families, surely one who stood above the peasants and looked down upon their poverty…? no, he was far beyond that stereotype of the rich looking upon the poor with distaste. for were they not all human, suffering the wrath of a monstrous widower? how love could ruin, especially if that love was the only thing keeping a beast in its cage, muzzling bloodthirsty fangs from tearing into humanity. it brought trevor belmont no pleasure to know what he must do; it brought him no pleasure to stand before the son of his enemy, look him in the eye, and for the both of them to share such sentiment towards one who could have been spared, if only he had stayed his hand.
❝ thank you. ❞ he simply said, arms wrapping around alucard, holding him close; eyes slipped shut and a slow breath of anticipation left his lips, as he imagined what it would be like, the insides of castlevania, the creatures that would await them wanting nothing but to tear them limb from limb. how intimately he knew of death and decay, and perhaps he should long for something beauteous and colorful and light for once – but trevor knew that the being he held in his arms was the best of those two worlds. and for that, he was grateful, for he could now have both darkness and light to make him whole; he could never truly abandon the dark wood that called, never truly abandon the hunt. better to be with someone who understood his fate, than one who would only look upon it with fear.
there would be no place for fear with the likes of him
He need not thank him, for truly being at his side was the least he could do for the hunter. Oh, if only he could clear the land of all his troubles, give him back his proper home, and within it the power and respect he deserved, how he’d do so in a heartbeat. The man deserved the world, a place where he could share his name, and people would tremble at his family crest in awe. Yet humans could never truly understand, destroying everything good in their world then ask their god why he turned away from them. Foolish- undeserving, if he could keep the Belmont to himself, how greedy he would be, stealing him from the world for an eternity of a personal heaven beside him.
Instead he smiled at the other, allowing his head to rest gentle against the man’s chest as he held him. It was a moment to breathe him in, the warmth and gentle musk such a comforting scent after all the time they’d spent together. “I love you, Trevor, if you ever have any doubt, just remember that will never change.” Perhaps comforting, uncertain however, incapable of reading his mind. “You should eat now, come, sit with me on the bed.”
He wouldn’t allow no for an answer, taking him by the hand to sit him on the bed’s edge. Turning then, he gathered up the cloth with food, his drink as well, returning to his side to sit with him, making himself comfortable as he unwrapped the cloth. “What did you bring? Whatever you don’t eat, I’ll finish. It’s important your fill, your need for food is far greater than mine. You and I both know I can find means of a meal elsewhere..”
kisses on the back of his hand 'cause that's what you do when you're noble
His lips curl into that of a crooked smile, amused, more so than anything, to see her dote upon him so. Spoiled, for reasons he hardly deserved, he simply chuckled at the affection, tilting his head to a side.
“How very kind of you, I must admit I’m speechless. It’s not often I have admirers.” Teasing, of course, yet his humor was far from something worth laughing about. “Thank you.”
dhampirblood-blog reblogged
Trevor.
it was in a most rare moment such as this one, that trevor wished he were not human – if only so he could surpass his limitations, speed being one of them. the remainder of his stamina, diminished some after a long day of traveling, was mustered up as the hunter sprinted in the direction alucard had sped off to. stepping into a clearing, the belmont immediately caught the sight of the dhampir, kneeling by a body of an angel, no, what could only be a human, as he could sense no otherworldly aura from the male – despite the exquisite appearance. but as trevor had learned in the past…a pretty face could hide an ugly truth.
shoulders tensed as suspicion began to settle in; who was this mysterious figure, and just how had he been wounded so badly? these wounds were far worse than what even the most dangerous of the lesser beasts in this forest could could give.
❝ i know you can heal him, alucard. my skills are too limited for the extreme nature of his wounds – you care for him, and i’ll go set up a camp. ❞ he spoke, quietly as he continued to ponder, possible identities and locations whence this man had come from, filling his mindscape. and how he flipped through said possibilities as though he were quickly sifting the pages of a book in a vast library; searching through the extensive records of his knowledge, he was unable to come up with anything concrete. only snippets that were useless to him.
trevor’s eyes narrowed at how the dhampir was acting around this utter stranger – as though the two of them possessed some innate bond. but what…? he was not born yesterday, he was well aware by alucard’s body language, the way those fingers caressed that silver hair, and the desperation lacing his pleading that this silver-haired male, with the physiognomy of a carved sculpture ( so very similar in appearance to the golden-haired dhampir ) was likely someone from alucard’s past. but he would not ask questions of adrian, no, now was not the right time when the life of what very well could be an innocent man was at stake.
soon enough, a fire had been set up, trevor’s pack set down, body feeling lighter ( and heart heavier ) even as he scattered holy water around the perimeter so that they would be warned against any incoming dark creatures.
ADRIFT UPON A PLANE OF consciousness not quite awake and yet condemned to a nebulous awareness, he laid suspended in a precarious equilibrium. to die so human, after years of forsaking his mortality in pursuit of glory and inimitable power, was nothing short of fitting irony. the culmination of the sins and violations he had wrought in the shadows of sacrilege, abandoning god in self-exile from his kingdom. divine punishment, at last; a reckoning that would judge him, condemn him, and see him to his natural fate.
it had been so long since hector had thought of faith, had held the words of a prayer close on his tongue like secrets he dare not breathe. would he listen if hector spoke now ? or would he turn from him, blind-eyed, deaf, and voiceless, as he always had when hector had let himself fall prey to the foolishness of misplaced hope.
what little he remembered of verses and testaments could not explain why, then, he would send for a seraphim. surely the dead who were denied paradise did not deserve the grace of angels. hallowed light gathered like an aurora, golden and incandescent enough to eclipse the sun in soft brilliance, it struck hector suddenly, devastatingly, how familiar to him this angel appeared. a final act of mercy for the desolate, damned soul awaiting an endless night: to give him the sun, one last time.
❛ adrian ? ❜ through the sinking cold of blood loss and entropy, the name slipped from his mouth stained like a prayer. ❛ cel mic. ❜
the movement of something in his hair, a gentleness hector could not fathom as touch, seemed too irrational to be truth. but even deception, even lies dressed as absolution, was blessed relief. to see him again, to let himself conjure the sunlight and breathlessness of seeing him once more, was sacred. hector was too far beyond redemption, too lost to truly be saved, but adrian’s silhouette in the guise of an angel, empyrean, celestial, could be as near to the kingdom of god as he would ever be. with steel and blood drowning his throat, he gasped a silent gratitude.
❛ it’s you in the end, after all, little one. my little prince. ❜
To hear the sound of his voice, was like that of a fantasy, long since past. Oh, what his childhood self would not give, to hear him call his name just the same, to have had him there in his time of need, when he’d all but lost everything so dear to him in life. His mother, his first lover, and then his father, such security, the people he’d known and loved, even relied on- all crumbling apart, hardly more than the rubble he’d returned home to that fateful day his mother was burned at the stake.
For it was his father’s doing, having never told him what became of the man. How he only assumed the fallen knight had left him, lost interest- or maybe even perhaps his life. Yet he could not bring himself to ask his father, too many questions leading to trouble, their love a secret for their hearts alone. Not a day passed since however, that his mind did not drift to him. Be it hardly more than a brief flicker of a candle’s flame in length, the man’s smile would still cross his mind from time to time. Yet even the most precious memories began to fade as he grew older, like that of an old painting, falling tattered at the seams, and fading as he was forced to face the cruel reality of the world. Loss, became all too normal a thing for him to carry with him, a burden, perhaps even a curse, he could never truly escape.
So perhaps in finding him there, was a second chance at a love long since lost. That whatever god lay above may have shown him mercy, a chance to regain the lost pieces of his childhood he’d only ached for in his dreams. But how clearly it all came back to him, those faded memories so suddenly clear, seeing his knights porcelain face. Such a sight, was enough to almost bring him to tears, as if the man knew he only had but moments left to breathe his final goodbyes. No, he wouldn’t allow it, a determination to keep him alive being his sudden motivation.
“ Just hold on.”
How he longed to say more, but held his tongue for fear of speaking, as if it would be the last words he’d hear. Instead his fingers moved, quickly undoing the tattered remains of cloth that clung to his skin around his wounds. How he’d bled out for some time, yet with luck, there was chance to save him. Carefully he leaned over him, taking initiative to allow his mouth and tongue to trail over the open wounds. Perhaps vile to most human’s, but with his saliva alone could he rapidly heal wounds as if they were his own. Over time they would heal, sealed up to stop the blood flow, but to be certain he moved to grab cloth and bandage, placing it over to soak up any remaining blood around the cuts themselves. Surely he looked a mess, crimson dripping from his chin as he turned to catch a glimpse of Trevor, working silently across the way.
“Trevor, help me carry him to the fire, will you? He needs warmth, his skin’s turning cold.” No doubt from loss of blood, but surely it would be far more comforting than the damp forest floor. Slipping his long coat from his shoulders, he rose to lay it down alongside the crackling fire. A softer place to rest his head, offering comfort in any possible way. “I’m by no means a doctor, but with luck, it may help him.” At least, that’s what he’d learned from his mother- human’s needed body heat, so it was key to offer it by any means possible. “..Please.”
He’d watched her from across the square, the setting sun giving enough shadow in the streets for pickpockets to run their routes in order to survive. Keen senses, and bright eyes gave him the advantage of watching few run here and there, cutting purses before rushing off to buy their afternoon meal. She seemed different from the rest, her striking appearance catching his eye. If anything, she reminded him of home- seeing many creatures, half human, and some not human at all, wander the halls of his father’s castle. She looked something like a necromancer’s best work, tall and thin, nimble hands, yet they were not made for such hardships, rather than work more delicate. His gaze flickered her way as she walked by, his voice soft, yet just enough to catch her ear.
“Why waste your hand with such a way of living, when you could put your skills to far better use..?” A hunter, an assassin maybe, something far better than running the streets at night. // @exspiravitae liked for a starter.
It was ever the amusing topic, when the two of them were around. Controversial almost, to see what would happen, should the two of them bicker and banter back and forth. Reason to bring up the subject at all, curious to see her response, then to perhaps bring up to Trevor at a later date- depending on her answer to his question.
“Tell me, who would win in a sword fight- you? or Trevor? You can’t tell me the two of you have not bet on it before.” // @baewind liked for a starter.
It was always so clear, when her presence drew near, as if he could sense a sudden shift in mood as it hung in the air. He’d felt her type before, dwelling withing his father’s castle as a boy- and now in the streets, blending in among humans as himself, hidden in plain sight, only to appear from the shadows when the time was right.
The scent of her skin intoxicating, was something he’d been told as a boy- properties of a succubus, irresistible, capable of bending a man’s mind and will to kneel before her. His eyes closed, allowing a soft exhale, not having to even turn to acknowledge her, his voice calling out softly.
“How many men I wonder, fall before you each day.. surely it must be easy, being so naturally alluring as yourself.” A compliment, perhaps, or honest truth. // @sukkubxs liked for a starter.
dhampirblood-blog reblogged
dark beasts were near and the belmont could feel it in the spaces betwixt his very bones, keen eyes scanning their surroundings quickly. when the creatures, demons – unlike any he had ever fought before – burst forth from the dense underbrush, as well as the trees. here lay the final location, the blackest of forests separating them from castlevania and their battle with dracula. these beasts were truly atrocious, born of the very nightmares of man. they possessed large, hunched and furry bodies, similar to that of werewolves but twice as large in size, and gaping maws; toxic ichor dripped from their large, serrated rows of fangs were further accompanied by massive claws, sharper even than a sword; trevor knew that he could not rely on anything but vampire killer in this instance.
at first there were five, then ten, quickly rising to fifteen and then more. despite the belmont’s expertise in fighting any monster here on earth, these particular ones had been summoned from the deepest parts of hell itself by their adversary in an attempt to put them down like common dogs before they could even reach the castle. trevor stood back to back with alucard, vigilant as the monsters circled them, their eyes shining an eerie silver and filled with bloodlust; they wanted nothing but to tear both human and dhampir apart to little pieces before making a meal of their remains.
❝ we can make it, i know we can, we haven’t come this far for nothing. ❞
trevor grit, lunging with a speed beyond anything his ancestors had ever been capable of, earned rightfully through training past his limits time after time. his body was a well-oiled killing machine, but despite his confidence – the hordes simply wouldn’t let up. in fact, this had to be the hardest battle he’d had yet in his life, and he’d certainly had many, his scars being trophies of his survival.
for every strike he bestowed upon the pack and every kill he earned, another among them would rise to wound him. he was tiring, human in the end, running on sheer willpower and adrenaline eventually. but swift movements grew sluggish, and finally, the circle of beasts around him were able to draw closer. bleeding and tired, still trevor raised his hand, the vampire killer ready to flick forward, perhaps one last time – for if he could just create an opening for adrian to escape, then he would not mind if he were to die here. at least his beloved would survive to fight another day –
it seemed the opposite was in store for him, as the golden-haired dhampir threw himself between the hunter and the oncoming blade of one of their assailants. the sick crunch of bone and tearing of flesh could be heard and trevor’s eyes widened in shock, time seeming to move extremely slow in that moment as he witnessed the blood gurgle from adrian’s mouth, beginning to gush from the wound in his chest also from around the blade stuck into pallid flesh.
❝ ADRIAN…!!!! ❞
he heard himself scream in abject horror, managing to toss forth capsules of holy water to form an only temporary barrier around them both. the beasts drew back, snarling and snapping, irritated by the stinging of the water. trevor could only manage to buy them mere seconds’ worth of time, and he dragged the dhampir’s form back as quickly as he could, to rest him against the base of a sturdy oak behind them.
the remaining monsters, at least twenty, if not thirty of them, with more on the way were in front of trevor and were recovering far too quickly from the holy water. this had never happened before and the belmont feared this truly was a losing battle. all that stood between them and death was himself, and desperately, he began to think. what could he possibly do to change the tide of this seemingly impossible battle…?
no…he had never been able to achieve that technique before in all of his years of training and hunting.
in fact, even his own father had never been able to fully achieve it, having told him: ‘son, only the holiest of holy, and the purest of hearts can bring forth the destruction of the grand cross. it is the attack only the strongest of belmonts can achieve, and still, has yet to be completely achieved in its highest of forms.’
what exactly had his father meant…? trevor felt so very weary, ready to sink to his knees and die with adrian just short of completing their quest, but no, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t give up before his people, his friends. an entire nation’s hopes were riding on his shoulders.
grimacing, he began to concentrate, his mind filled with images of adrian’s bleeding body, images of his friends and the people who had put their trust in him to rid them of dracula’s curse. he had never been afraid of death, wanting to die serving wallachia as his family had done for centuries. and so he would attempt in one final effort, mustering up every ounce of strength and spirit he had left in his soul. his eyes had closed and he could hear the beasts advance upon them in what looked to be the end.
Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. may God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do Thou, o prince of the heavenly host, by the divine power of God, cast into hell satan and all the evil spirits who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls.
entirely unbeknownst to trevor, a warm, golden light had begun to emanate from the core of his being as he mentally prayed to the powers above.
In the darkness of his mind, he could see her, a face he’d thought he’d never see again, long lost to the ashes and flame of a cruel mankind. His mother, Lisa, her voice guiding him in the darkness, calling out to him like a most heavenly sound. She was his light he could follow, a long path with an end in sight. Yet it was not a means to an end, but instead her figure, clear as day within his mind, as if he stood before her on that fateful day and witnessed her death first hand.
She was like a work of art, tied to the burning stake they lay her upon on her final day. Her hair cast about her face, billowing in the light like a white halo. And while the flames that consumed her, her heavenly smile remained ever present. He could hear her voice, clear as day, her gaze almost haunting as she gaze down upon him.
‘ Adrian. Be better than him, than your father, show him the truth, that love can be your strength to carry on. Fight for what is right, have the courage to tear them down. ‘
He could feel the trail of blood as it ran down the track of his scar, painting his tattered shirt a vibrant crimson as it went. How the sound of Trevor’s desperate breath filled his ears then, ragged, panting as he continued to fight, despite the odds against them. Quickly the vision of his mother faded, the glow of her light shifting, coming in to view in the real world before him. It was not her that did glow, no, but Trevor himself as he stood ready to fight. He couldn’t give up, not now, not when they were so close, not when his lover still kept strong, even with his back to the wall. No, his father had to learn the error of his ways, that not all humans were so evil as the man that killed his mother. One’s errors, after all, should not be the reason for thousands to die. Especially not the man he loved most, in all the world. Never would he allow his father to let him suffer the same wounds he himself faced, after losing his dear mother. He would never be like him, never following the path of sorrow, living a life alone.
Just in the short time he’d met Trevor, how he learned first hand, that pure heart and soul could easily dwell within man. Human’s were capable of kindness- love, that he’d never felt from any other being. How his heart ached, his body fighting the urge to give up, despite the pain. Though his vision was blurred, how he could see his love so clearly, glowing in his heavenly light. How the world seemed to fall still, with every demon catching sight of such power, his connection with god, clear as day, as he stood tall. Truly the Belmont’s were descendants from heaven, a fact he now knew for certain. All the more reason why he knew, he could not let him die.
The metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth, despite the way he spat, more would seem to flow- yet that would not stop him. He had to change, wanted to change, yet even as he tried to slowly shift into his wolf form, how it only made the blade twist and turn within his chest. Blinding pain left him crying out, trying his best to stand, as he called out to the hunter in desperation.
“Trevor- run! Leave me, go while you can!”
A plead, would he listen, but the man was never one to back down from a fight, all too willing to face death with a smile. That’s what frightened him, more than anything, what left him reaching out for his lover, crimson painting his fingertips as he desperately ached to feel him one last time. He could not stand to see him fall before his very eyes, wishing for a death far worse, to be torn from limb to limb, just to see him escape and live to see another day. Tears of red began to blur his sight, slipping in gentle streams down his face, his hand trembling as everything blurred, fighting the darkness that wished to consume his vision entirely.
“Trevor- please... please... Just go. You have to let me go.”
It seemed nothing would ever go according to plan, for never could they truly know what lay on the path before them. How he’d dealt with his father before, and how well he knew, that the man was not past summoning monsters from the depths of hell, more hideous than anything humans could ever seem to comprehend. It was something he’d warned his partner about, but the Belmont seemed most certain he’d fought every creature known to man. Overconfidence however, was a man’s quickest way to downfall.
He’d known they were outnumbered from the moment the creatures rose from the dense trees they traveled by. A few miles off lay their next safe haven, but the dread of demons lurked in every shadow, becoming all the more a reality, the moment they were attacked without warning. Outnumbered, overwhelmed, a part of him knew sacrifice would have to be made, in order for Trevor to make it out alive.
How he knew the cost, knew the way one day he’d fall, be it to beast, or his own father. Perhaps he’d be seen as a legend, passed down through stories of speakers as a hero, the slayer of his own kind, his flesh and blood. The Belmonts would thrive, and maybe, regaining their rightful place. Trevor would one day settle down and continue on with a family of his own. It was the only thing he could hope for, in the end, that humans would find peace long after he was gone.
It was why he had no hesitation, taking such blows for the hunter. Though the demons would fall, one by one, not all could be stopped without landing a few hits. Some, more fatal than others, gashes to his arms and sides, nothing that could compare to a the biggest wound of them all. A snap decision, made without hesitation as he watched the numbers hoard about the Belmont, going in with piercing blades and claws in hopes of tearing him apart. How quick he was, to shield the other, his body thrown between both he and the demon that sought to cut him down.
The clean cut of a blade moved through his chest, swift with a means to stop the heart, had the monster but hit its mark. The sickening sound of blood rose in his throat, beyond his control, as he could taste it on his tongue, dripping from his lips just as soon as he tried to speak. Despite the dim light, how clear the color of crimson gleamed as it coated the tip of the blade, seen jutting from his chest. A hiss, half drown in blodd, rose in his throat as he turned to strike the beast down, but not even he could simply walk away from a cut so deep. Knees buckled, a numbness consuming as he found himself falling into the earth. “T-revor-’ Yet hardly more could escape his lips, a darkness consuming his vision as his body was quick to slip into shock. // @vampirkiller
I promise to plant kisses like seeds on your body, so in time you can grow to love yourself as I love you.