this blog is archived! feel free to follow trevor's new space: @bravemont. i'll likely be dropping many of the threads i had here and starting over. just for organization + my sanity's sake. <3
Jules of Nature
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we're not kids anymore.

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YOU ARE THE REASON

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@bravemonta
this blog is archived! feel free to follow trevor's new space: @bravemont. i'll likely be dropping many of the threads i had here and starting over. just for organization + my sanity's sake. <3

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trevor belmont.
oh boy i have made myself tragically sad thinking about trevor's childhood (or lack thereof)
playing symphony of the night… oh yeah. its all coming together
archiving + new start incoming.
playing symphony of the night… oh yeah. its all coming together

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even in this state, or particularly in this state— when their muscles grow loose with relaxation, and their mind is abuzz with the happy stupor born from cool ale and a feast of plump chicken and stuffed peppers, and cabbage rolls, and sausage— adrian finds that trevor belmont, without so much as trying, is at their most ravishing. so long ago, when war struck wallachia and they knew nothing but of bloodshed and battle, his perception of beauty was fraught with violence. trevor's body rolling in tandem with the whip he would lash so furiously that heads would nearly be decapitated from the onslaught; and the blood which plumes from his daggers; the bruises that would blossom like springtide flowers upon his marred skin. but here, he is gentler, and with such benevolence reveals an aspect to belmont that he did not imagine would come to be.
dear god; so this is love absolute. adrian's hands land upon trevor's sides, easing elongated nails upward upon his body, for which he can feel the body heat radiating from such fine, thick, intrusive clothing. pests as they may be, the dhampir makes quick work to coil his fingertips over the shirt's hem, easing it upwards from the waist to the neck. “ i certainly taste no corruption. just you... and how splendorous that taste is. a craving i am incapable of denying myself. ” golden eyes meet trevor's softening gaze; a steely visage melting in wake of the dhampir, and how he savors that ability. “ enough with this tedious blouse. raise your arms, so that i may remove it. ”
there's a warmth on their cheeks, not blossomed solely from the lingering taste of ale on the tongue. he always finds himself flush with the lingering anticipation of this devouring adrian occasionally partakes in. how soft he's become. the man he was when they met would scoff at the softness gathered around the hips and chest. the scars both fresh and old from the life he's lived now appear softer on the skin, being treated regularly with oils and lotions. the smell of booze and old blood which oft lingered around his poorly maintained body has improved markedly, too. he sleeps in a warm bed. he eats well. he stays active and doesn't work the body to the brim of exhaustion. he has become something gentler than what fate originally allowed. perhaps they have him to thank for such a transformation, for it's by his hands that he's been warranted such a change.
adrian is viewed through a similar, opposing lens. this position above him, ravenous and craving, is all trevor so desires. heart thrums wildly in his chest, as if they have not done this song and dance plenty of times. how he makes trevor re-learn the self, to abandon what walls they'd so carefully placed all those years ago. " only me, as if i could understand what it is you so savor ... it is a craving i won't ever deny you of. " his arms raise obediently, allowing the fine cloth to be lifted above his head. beneath, a body that has known trial and tribulation. fine, dark hair coats the chest, dripping down the torso. the skin is decorated with scars, some raised, some sunken — all of which adrian has seen and known. a jolt of passion urges them forward, capturing the dhampir's lips once more in ever-lingering desire. " come. take what you wish from me, before i find myself utterly distracted by you. "
good morning friends! as i power through these pre-req courses and work work alike, i wanted to drop my blogroll and discord. i've gone through a few blog changes recently, so i thought it a good idea to remind everyone officially where i can be found when i'm not here.
STARFARES. peter quill / star-lord. highest activity, main priority.
BRAVEMONT. trevor belmont of castlevania. secondary.
DEATHBARER. thanos of titan. secondary.
SCIDEFY. pan-fandom and friends only multimuse. tertiary. please only follow this one if we are mutuals on peter!
ONLYORDER. primordial eros of hades. tertiary.
FIRSTFURIES. megaera of hades. tertiary.
and below, find my discord. mutuals are more than welcome to add me for plotting and chatting.
Cesare Pavese, translated by Roberta Payne, from "Death Will Come,"
even with his eclectic understanding of the nature of existence, even with his comprehension of all such arcane realities that lie in the darkest corners of this planet, adrian cannot even infer what may have occurred to trevor belmont. it isn't a case of simply being immortal; vampires and night-creatures have the capacity to die, even if through violent or traumatic means. indeed, adrian's life can end— and, due to their lifestyle of strife and expedition, likely will end at some point. trevor, however, is beyond that. beyond it all— some may call that godhood, but adrian considers it something more of a damnation.
“ i can only think of one thing: that being the void, the end of all things; of time, and space, and all other phenomenon which comprise the universe we live in. but i am unsure what will happen to you when, in due time, all such existence ceases to exist. you're beyond that... beyond all of it. ” and how terrifying that may be. adrian does not shudder, but peers onto trevor with a waxing expression of concern. he pauses. “ if we do not find our answers somewhere, we will venture elsewhere. through time, through location. surely, there is a means to an end. ” the dhampir tilts his head, casting a small, bittersweet smile. breaching through the tenseness, he adds, “ and anyway, you of all people can't be the universal constant. if that was the case, then we'd really know that we're all damned to hell. ”
this entire arrangement has made them acutely aware of the shortness which is adrian's lifespan. before this development, he would've considered it painfully long; a curse, more than a blessing. and now, looking at the infinite span of their life compared to his, adrian's feels naught but a blink. is this what dracula felt, they don't allow themself to wonder for too long. is this the bone-chilling, grim feeling that coursed through undead veins at the striking realization that he would outlive his love? burning the world down for shortening it has never been a difficult concept to grasp, and now it's more understood than they'd be comfortable voicing.
his eyes dart away as adrian continues on. beyond the void, beyond time, beyond space ... should things cease to exist, will he still be there? alone and abandoned by life, itself? in response, he only offers a sigh. how heavy his bones feel at this weight. expression contorts in displeasure. " he and i talked about being the best at our craft— at having to limit ourselves for the sake of not seeming as frightening as we could be. i suppose he was right, and this is my fucking reward for beating him ... very well, we will go together. let's leave as soon as we're able. i could head out tonight. " farther, they peel away, as if something that would ultimately taint him. arms cross in a subconscious means of self-soothing. " we were already all damned to hell, adrian. except it seems i'm getting the free pass. aren't i lucky? "
Yayoi Kusama: The Sea in the Evening Glow (1988) Facing the Imminent Death

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INBOX: “ you’ve saved countless lives. but it’s alright to mourn the man, too. ” as said by trevor, @bravemont.
“ i only wish it was easier, ” he replies, spoken so lowly that one would need to strain to hear him speak; “ easier to forget him and move on. to understand that he was a monster, and will always be known as a monster. but i carry his legacy with me; i know the man that he once was, before he was stricken with insanity and grief. ”
rare are moments such as these; where adrian speaks so freely of his lived experience that all fortifications erode and he, once more, becomes the boy. he allots himself very little: little time, and little emotion, perhaps for the fact that unleashing his sentiment would tear him apart, splintering muscle and bone until he was throbbing, and pulpy, and spasming in torture absolute. he lifts himself from his seated position, utilizing movement as a means to exert the excess energy swelling at his chest. hesitating, he turns to trevor, folding his arms over his chest. “ and, too, i mourn who i once was. before my father's madness, before my eyes awoke to the cruelty of men. i was gentler; i was kinder. but i was, above all else, naïve. i will not make that mistake again, even if it means burying the memories of my father so deep that they can't possibly re-emerge to haunt me. ”
" my love, " uncharacteristically soft do their words begin. upright he's stood, casually leaning against the window sill. stained glass bleeds visions of yellow and red tones onto his face, enriching the skin with a dream-like palette. " forgetting is not the easiest path, nor is it the most forgiving upon yourself. " he speaks from decades of experience, when burying the memory of his family, as cast out and hated as they were, was easier than remembering them for what they were. true, perhaps they did perform the black magic everyone feared, but those hands were the same that played with him — that taught him survival and his skill.
" no. doing that will start you on the path i took. it is no easy road, and it is consuming. " trevor beholds his movement, opting to stay still even as the body commands he rise. how torturous it must be, how agonizing. they understand these sensations better than most. lips tug into a small frown, and trevor steps forward. he's silent at first. silent as adrian grieves before him, silent as powerful arms engulf the frame of their lover, silent too as hands grip tightly onto the fabric of adrian's shirt. to hold and comfort. this is what he should have had as a child, and it is their delight to give it to adrian now. nose buries into blond hair, allowing the senses to drink him in. " learn from me. grieve and mourn, and do not let it consume you. i will not let him haunt you. "
i Think im going to start referring to trevor's condition as Deathless. deathless as that is what he is now, that's what he encompasses, that's what he has changed into. much like a human changed to a vampire would be then called a "vampire". being "deathless" (or being a deathless) is going to essentially refer to the state of being trevor is now in. he's not just immortal. he's deathless as in death will never be able to grasp him. he will never be with death. he's not merely "immortal", but almost the further extreme of immortality.
adroitly, fehn keeps in step, weaving herself throughout the flow of people browsing the market. submerged in chatter and movement, she feels as though they are fish swimming against the current. she considers the thick wolf fur lining trevor’s cloak as she trails closely behind him.
“ yes, i think i understand. ” travel. perhaps travel would be good for her. it would, at the very least, give her the time and distance to figure out this… mess she’s awakened to. the mere idea of distraction quells the sense of dread that has been weighing in her like a stone. her thoughts shift back to trevor, and her eyes bore into the back of his head. “ you sound rather experienced, based on your words. how long have you been doing this? ”
they feel her footsteps behind them and catch her eyes every now and then from the corners of his own. there's a prickling of his senses when it comes to the bonds of others. so tightly has he wound himself within the confines of his past that letting anyone even distantly close appears to the hunter as a danger. has he not lead adrian and sypha into the maws of danger prior to this brief trip? has he not been the longstanding survivor of the belmont clan? danger happens — and seems to hang on their coattails.
" go around. follow the sounds of screams. where people are, trouble will be there waiting for you. if you're lucky, the people who want to stop that trouble will pay good coin for you to do so. " even now in the aftermath of vampiric wars, nightcreatures and those that hunger for blood linger. bad time to be getting into the hunter business, but they suppose if there was any profitable time to do so, she's right on time. " me? oh, since i was a child. my family hunted, so i've known this life for all of mine. what about you? you seem new to this sort of thing. "
" makes you wonder why anyone would try to get in, right? " she wonders what it makes her family, for being the loudest and proudest to try. she wonders what it makes her as the only survivor. " and yet, we're still here. alive and kickin'. you'd think they'd try harder. "
" to the castle? oh, beats me. only treasures and gold, mm? " playful, does his quip sound off. tone is light, masking the disgust twisting in his chest. one by one, clans of monster hunters — of protection have be whittled away. humanity really must love fucking destroying itself. " there's nothing more they can take from me. i'm a walking, talking example for them ... and any who've tried are good and buried now. "

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it's over. we should move. / @sanguinates' guts, prompt.
" i'm coming. wait for me. " blood cakes the lower part of his nose. and downward, slips through the cracks of dried lips. his own crimson tastes of iron on the tongue. still, he rises. just as the edges of the sun bleeds over the horizon, so, too does trevor belmont rise. the morningstar drips with the otherworldly color of monster blood, yet it finds the holster on his belt nonetheless. boots carry him forward, careful not to slip on the slick redness pooling around his feet. " what the fuck was that? i have faced creatures of the night, but this was nothing i've seen before. and why did they retreat at sunlight? what fucking curse is upon you? "
there he stands, loitering just above the plush mattress trevor rests his body upon. and what marvelous sight unfurls before him; sun-kissed skin freckled with both scars and blemishes show both ware and wonder of the body, an exhibition of his accomplishments. what sullies his powerful form, however, are mere reminders of what trevor belmont once was; a mortal man with the audacity of an archdemon, and twice the righteous defiance. the eve is cool, bringing in winds from the east in assurance of impending autumn, where all such leaves grow beautiful, wondrous colors through the brushstrokes of whatever dead gods long rot on high. he lowers himself upon bedside, reaching forth to run delicate fingers along his warm, rough skin. he's grown far healthier these days, no longer relying on ale and old jerky for survival. this is prosperity. this is peace.
“ you may be deathless, but you still suffer as a mortal man. i hold no desire to torment you, my own hunger notwithstanding. ” his voice is low among the coming moonlight. fingers trail towards his sternum, and then his throat, and then his lips, brushing his thumb along the soft flesh. “ a kiss for your blood. your services grow cheap, belmont. ” despite this, the dhampir lurches forward, intercepting his warm mouth with his own cool, bloodless lips. though gentle, the kiss exhibits underlying desire, a hunger for more. always more. “ have i sated your desires enough, my desired? ”
they feel seen beneath adrian's gaze. golden eyes fall upon him and he may as well be naked before them. the clothes he's retired in do little to properly conceal them away from the eyes of their beloved. " i know, but i have never minded satisfying your hunger, my love. pain is only temporary. your enjoyment satisfies me, too. " its this, the hidden parts of adrian that trevor finds the most remarkable. he considers himself lucky to find themself in their favor. they consider themself lucky for many things, but only few would ever come close to the affection adrian offers with an open palm. instinctively, trevor lurches against the touch. there is always a desire for more — to be consumed by him, devoured and made adrian's own. a thing to be possessed by the dhampir.
a kiss is offered the thumb that brushes across his lips. how rough they used to be, split from dehydration and fists alike. now the skin, along with much of the rest of himself, has grown softer. a sign of the times, he supposes. " you must mistake how highly i value your kiss. i see it as pricelessness for corrupted blood. " the kiss is returned with lingering adoration. hand stretches upward to brush back long, blond curls. " enough to complete our trade, but i will want many more when you're finished. "