𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥

and what does history say of the lovers  ?    of promethus’ wife  ,    the goddess of foresight  ----    who knew her lovers doom  ,    and watched him carry the torch despite it  .    of andromeda  ,    who’s spark and wit is lost in the light of perseus’ triump  .    of patroclus  ,    who was left behind as quickly as the light of his pyre died  .    i will not be forgotten in my own story  .

extremely private  ,    selective writing blog for a headcanon based    𝑠𝑦𝑝ℎ𝑎 ,    from konami’s      𝔠𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔳𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔞 .     based mostly personal headcanon    &    interpretation  ,    with main influence from the games  ,    and some compliance to the show  .    𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑫    𝑱𝑼𝑳𝒀    𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐  .    by roman    ( he /  they  ,    22 )    affiliated with 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔭𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯   

❝    and yet i do not think they are all wholly unkind    ❞     her voice is quiet  ,    little more than a breath exulted    /     quieter than a grave  ,     than the dead     (     than them  ----     is that not what they were  ?     the dead walking the earth  ,    with stilled hearts     &      tombs that they consecrated as their beds    )     her fingertips curled idly around the cup before her  ,     the din light of candles flickering around them  ,    like fires caught in gusts of wind  ----     and yet the air around them was still  ,     and silent  ,    as though they themselves had set foot into one of those forgotten tombs

❝    monsters  ,    beasts  ----     i admit  ,    i have seen them do terrible things  ,    and yet i think there is kindness in some of them  .    perhaps it is buried deep  ,    lost to years of sorrow     &     death   ,     i think it is hard to remember how to be human when you have become a living corpse for so long  .    but i think it is still there  ,    hard won  ,    but alive nonetheless    ❞     she leaned back  ,    sinking further into her seat  ,    eyes slipping closed for a moment     ❝    i have hunted them  ,    and the creatures they make  .    and sometimes i could swear  ----    in those moments right before  .  .  .     before the fire consumes them  ,    before the stake meets their heart  ,    there is a glimpse of what was once there  .    that small  ,    human part that rises to the surface  ,    as it stares death in the face    ❞

to see  /   to know,   they are two separate things.   one can see all that is.     can watch a thousand sunsets and sunrises,     and still never know them.        how had she come to know him whose heart yearned for the destruction of humanity?      it had not been without sacrifice.      and yet that which mina had lost was nothing in comparison to the expanse of him.      to fear,   to see,   to know,   to understand.        it was as linear of a progression as a melody,    an equation,    a spell.

“     he is not kind.     ”          these are the first words she utters,     hands no longer at her beck and call.     instead, mina stares intently at the other,    using her gaze to convey the truth of her words.     the count is not kind.     though he has been kind to her.      “      …     and he will not take kindly to your choice of companion.   but i cannot speak for him.    and i cannot take you to him.    that would be a breech of trust that already runs thin.     i will not risk what little peace i have built for your hunger to be satiated.     ”

❝    no  ----     no i would not ask such a thing of you  ,    mina    ❞    she understood the burden of trust  ,    to have yourself belong so fretfully within the heart of another  ----     to construct yourself around their understanding  ,    and belief  ,    and trust  .    was she not herself enrapt within the heart of another  ?    another man  ,    who’s trust  ----    she thought  ,    was also hard won     (     in her dreams she could still relive the moment over and over again  ;    the way his eyes had bore into her own  ,    the way she had been resurrected in his arms  .    the rapture that had been a slow realization  ,    the small thought that had dug itself within her a thousand times  :    i think i have been looking for you for a very long time     )

❝    i’m sure he will not    ❞     and despite herself  ,    she found a smile turning the corners of her lips  ,    and yet it vanished as quickly as it had been conjured  ----    a spell swept away by the hand of god     ❝    i do not wish to burden you  ,    or put you into the path of danger  .    i only want to talk to you  ----     that is all i want  .     i fear what is coming  ,    if his mind cannot be changed  .    i am afraid mina    ❞     but who’s mind was she trying to change  ?    trevor  ,    the count  ,    all of them  .     if one stubborn man could change his mind  ,    perhaps the tapestry that had been woven could be undone after all

❝    stop acting like i can’t fend for myself  ----    ❞    her breath heaved  ,    watching the fire before her quietly  ,    observing it with all the penance of a mourner beside a funeral pyre  .    her fingertips dug tightly against her abdomen  ,    and yet her gaze was still sharp despite the blood that pooled in her palm  ----    her words loud and abrasive as she met his eyes from atop the flames    ❝    i am not  ----     i am not helpless  ,    trevor  .    you can’t keep treating me as though i will break  ,    it will get you killed    ❞

she swallowed  ,    eyes squeezing shut as she swayed  ,    just slightly  .     bastards  .     she hadn’t realized they’d been so close to her  ----     but by the time she’d turned  ,    by the time trevor had yelled her name  ;    their claws had already found purchase  ,    sunk deep into her abdomen and clawed ribbons into her  .    the pain had burst behind her eyelids  ,    and she’d only had a faint recognition to keep trevor out of the flames as her hands flew forward of their own volition  .    as the beast fell to the ground now  ,   silent  ,   succumbed to the fire  .    she gasped down a breath  ,    unable to help as her knees gave out and she fell to the ground beside the fire  ,   her grip tightening against the weeping wound      ❝     god damn it     ❞     she would have laughed  ----     if the pain hadn’t turned her vision white  ,    if she hadn’t struggled to draw breath through the burning agony  ----     that the curse had fallen so freely from her mouth

           before his eyes fell sprigs of red and tendrils of sunset-orange,  settled vibrantly-  like a crown of blood beneath the azure hood.  vampire sight drank in the căiță and the curse that it would bring.  seeped into the head where the mother could not reach.   the devil’s child,  destined for magickal prowess that mortals could not hold.   he too once possessed it,  though perhaps a darker auburn shade,  before age and death had claimed him and he was born again,  renewed.  

“ your sermons do not move me,  child.  ”     though bold,  her bravery had not moved him - both figuratively and literally - from where his stance was made.     “ you come into my house and demand of me your philosophy,  all while accusing me of kindnessess and calling my kind your beasts. ”    claw-tipped fingers spasmed in the light,  sliding still so gracefully down the bannister as he began to make his move.    his legs were long and powerful,  taking two steps easily at one time,  before the gap between them had become no more than the length of a single body.   unchanged,  the count stood towering above her.    but made no move to harm her.    she had on her the scent of others- of the belmont his generals spoke of with nary a high regard.  and of his son,  estranged,  and lost to him in greșit.  

               polite as she was,  he needed not see more of her to know of what she was.  a magician,  through-and-through,  and perhaps hired by the church to throw a stake into his heart.  stones made water ripple,  but his pond was clear and cool.  the concept of death that once had hindered him was nothing to him now.  he knew it would not touch him.  this was clearer on his face,  uninterested and calm with the hardest,  darkest lines appearing between his eyes.  his laughter had long-since ended,  and his mouth was now a frown.

“  the occasional benevolence of one human cannot undo the atrocities committed in the name of your so-called god.  he who gives bread to hungry children may yet cheer the deaths of thousands in the carnage of holy war.  it makes no difference in the end.  ”

❝    i am not a child    ❞      the words are pushed through her mouth before she can stop them  ,    her palms burning  ----     fire seeking to grasp hold of her veins  ,    to seek the purity of fire at the rise of her emotions  ;    but she will not let it  .     her magic had been reactive  ,    when she had first begun to call forth the elements  ----     they had risen to the call of her emotions  ,   wild    &    untamed  ,    hidden so well behind the façade of the peaceful priestess  .    but she had learned  ,    perhaps not mastered  ,    but she had found the threshold of control that leashed them to her will  .    instead  ,    she breathes deeply  ,    and the warmth in her arms fades to nothing more than a dull ache  ,    her gaze raising once more  ,    ❝    i would ask you not to call me such  .    i know that i am younger than you  ,    but one should not be demeaned for such a thing  .    i know that i have not seen  ,    or known  ,    all that you have  .    but a small life does not make me lesser for it    ❞

sypha watches  ,    with all the carefulness of a rabbit observing a wolf  ,    as he moves towards her  .    and yet she does not turn from him   ----     she does not flinch  ,   or run  ,   or fall to her knees and beg  .    instead  ,    her voice turns quiet  ,    softer  ,     the way she would speak to trevor      when he wasn’t being insufferable     ❝     i have offended you  ,    and even if you are not quick to grant it  ,    i would ask for your forgiveness  .     i have seen many things since gresit was attacked  ,    but it was unkind of me  ----     i suppose you are to me the way a wolf is to a deer  .    but you are not a beast for who you are  ,    just as a wolf is not  .     we are different  ,    but we are all just creatures trying to survive  ,    are we not  ?    i should not have spoken in such unkind haste  ,     count    ❞

          stories           nightmare tales spun by human warriors that could not best his prowess in battle and had somehow wormed away,  and thereby lived to tell the tale.  hollered skazki in which he had become the demon,  stalking streets by night to wrench the windows from their houses and feast on supple flesh.  sinking teeth into wife and widow and young babes no more than four days old.  and he had once before.  of their account he would make no fault.   only the time by which they were made.  those days were long behind him.           weren’t they?   no.

sharp, white incisors flashed all-long like ivory pistons, stacked one against the other beneath the draw of his well-fed lips.  red like blood,  turned crimson and darker still the further one went toward the teeth and then beyond.   vampire dared to laugh at her,  standing still with one hand on the rail some several feet up above the foyer and the many suits of armor that kept his hall well-stocked.   the count would not move down the stairway so long as she was there.  not unless she forced them.   not unless to kill.     

“  a man?  such bold words from a trespasser.  and not just.  nay,  but from a god-fearer and a witch.  ”    yes,   he could smell the magick on her.  the wards for evil-eyes and the incantations for light,  ice and flame.    the count’s words were well-pronounced and slow,  choosing to speak the words he thought that she might call her own.  the lilt in her voice and the accented consonants gave way for his belief that her mouth was born wallachian.  and so he would speak to her their dacian words.   they were also once his own.    “  how can you be so decided?   man and monster have become almost indistinguishable from one another.  both commit great evils.  but only one denies them thus.  ”

he was a warning sign painted in blood  -----     he was every inexplicable wrongness that smeared itself across her vision  ,    the culmination of every predator    (     he was the berries deep in the forest  ,    when she had still been young  .    with their glaring red beauty beckoning to her to lift the poison to her lips  ,    to taste the fruit  ----    for no other reason  ,    than the wanting to know    )     and perhaps that is what wrenched her gut now  ,    what stuck her in place  .    to know  ,    to understand  .    to place her hand on the maw of the wolf and gaze into the humanness of it’s eyes and say i know you  ,    i have been looking for you all my life

slowly, she reaches to lower the hood concealing her face  ----    perhaps she did not need to  ,    she had the keen sense that he could see straight through the soul  .    and yet it felt a necessary curtesy  .    to reveal herself to the beast  ,    to show the warmth  ,    the fragility  ,    and to still stand straight before him  ----    unflinching     ❝    you would call me trespasser  ,    and yet i have the sense that if you truly did not want me here  ,   i would not have even made it past the front door     ❞

❝     and  ,    for your information  ----     ❞      she placed her foot against the bottom step  ,    but made no other move towards him  ,    her gaze digging into him  ;    knowing that perhaps she should not reveal such a thing to him  ,    and yet she felt as though lying would do her no good     ❝    the god - fearer is not here  ,    i’ve come alone  ,    and of my own free will    ❞

❝    you are saying that you have met him  ----     that you know him  ?    ❞     the thought felt strange  ----     and saying it aloud felt stranger  ,    to admit that he was indeed a man  ,    who had known people  ;    a man who had welcomed people into his home  ,    who had known them and had their trust imbued into them  .     to admit that this woman  ,    with her gaze that watched like a raven’s    (    keen  ,    and knowing  ----     as though she could see straight through sypha and into her heart  .    and strangest of all  ,    she wondered what mina would find there    )     had seen into the heart of dracula      ❝    i will tell you the truth    ❞

she reached  ,    gently drawing mina’s hands into her own  ,    her skin warm and welcoming   ;     and as gentle as her gaze was  ,    there was something sharp in her own  .    something that hungered  ,     and yearned     ❝    nobody knows that i have asked you to come speak with me  ,    alone  .     but i must know  ----     you must tell me what you know  .    we can’t  ----    he  -----    ❞    a breath  ,    steadying  ,    and her hands tighten just slightly  ,    ❝    i want to understand him  ,    i think that if i could speak to him  .  .  .     i think there might be a chance  ,    please  .    i am asking you to help change the path that has been laid out for him    ❞

she should not be here  .    that was the first thought that burned into her  ,   the overwhelming sense to turn heel and run  .    and yet something had called her here  ,    some force that had laid the path out  ----    dotted in red flowers  ,    luring her to the doorstep of the underworld     (     was persephone afraid when she stood on the precipice of eleusis  ?    like calls to like  ,    and perhaps that was why she was here    )

❝    i will admit  ,    you aren’t what i expected from the stories    ❞     spoken into the darkness  ,    her fingertips tracing against the stone hallway around her  ,   as if searching for something there  ----    something solid to hold onto  ,    to keep her from drifting away  ,    to assure her that the figure before her was no ghost  ,   no dream  ,   but flesh and blood  .

❝    devil  ----     that is what they call you  ,    and yet you are a man  ,    are you not  ?    imposing  ,   drowned in magic  ,    and yet what i see a man lost in his sorrow    ❞     she couldn’t help but think that she would have more courage if trevor had been by her side  -----     and yet the thought almost makes her laugh  ,    wouldn’t he hate this  ?    to watch her stand before the count  ,    and speak to him as he were any other man  ,    to pry herself open and show humanity

                            mottled flesh turned to ash beneath his mortal gaze,  leaving behind an imprint of the very soulless creature whose life was now forfeit.    more worrying was that it had been effortless.    taking life was effortless,  and that should have bothered him far more than he was willing to allow himself to feel.    what thirteen year old could hold his own against the horde of undead nestled in the carpathian mountains and not flinch or wince his eyes in the face of guts and gore?            trevor belmont could.    and he had for some long years.    did so now in the presence of a magic speaker,  and occasionally the son of the devil himself.

calloused hands ran firm over the back of an old,  charred lectern,  and his hand was black with soot.    strange,  there was no book or bible present on the top,  nor any evidence that there had been the remains of one that burned.    just an open,  empty space where the cover had been dirtied and then afterwards removed.    so just what where they reading through?    and why was it so important to hide it?    not only that, but… villages like these were as sanctimonious as they came.    so where were all the priests?     or where were all the bodies?   

                            why would vampires be interested in holing themselves up inside a church?              the ground,  it isn’t consecrated.   all this carnage in a place meant for sanctuary.  

               why did evil always hide inside a church?

“  don’t,  ”    picking up on only her last words,  trevor made his response swift and to the point.    (  that didn’t mean he never shared her remorse.  )    the hunter turned his gaze to match her own,  carried himself to stand at her side and look down upon the corpse.    the  corpse,   and not the mage.     her eyes were the worst when she was sad.   “ don’t do that to yourself.    if we hadn’t shown up when we did,  the bastards wouldn’t have stopped at just seven or eight.    they would’ve eaten the whole gods-damned town. ”

she found herself gazing about the church  ,    and became at once overwhelmed with the absence within it  .    there was no presence of god  ----     no calm  ,    no overwhelming emotion that lodged itself in the center of her throat    &    choked the words from her     (    the voice of god  ,    was that not what they called it  ?    those drowned by the hymnals  ,    those who spoke with the conviction of a vengeful deity    )    instead there was only a stillness  ,   a silence that settled like a heavy blanket  .    there were not even signs of nature  ,  no life  ----    not even the sun streaming through the stained glass  .     there was no sway of trees  ,   no blades of grass  ,   no stubborn vines or flowers pressing themselves between the cracks  .    there was nothing  ,    no connection  ,    no divinity  .   only an ache  ,   and a silence  .

there was the strange notion  ,    then  ,    that she wanted to run from the structure  .    to shove open the heavy doors and gasp down nature the way a dying man would run to water  .    but it was banished entirely at the sound of his voice  ----    the gruffness that pulled her back  .    he was the tether that anchored her down to the earth  .    and her lips pressed together tightly as she spoke     ❝    i am not sad for them  ,    but i cannot ignore it  ----     to burn them from my memory is a disservice    ❞      there was a conviction in her gaze as it lifted to him  ,    as she rose from her position to gaze at him  ,    ❝    there is not weakness in it    ❞

                          “  you set his balls on fire,  sypha. ”   and then the rest of him.     but derision was no language that belmont would dare to speak.  on the contrary, he had rather been hoping for some excuse to castrate the fellow-  but what was hatred among vampires and their hunters?                   good god,  he could smell the seared flesh through the onslaught of screaming.    the smell of horrid,  burnt decay.     trevor took solace in the fact that the greedy bastard deserved it  ;  eight dead,  maybe more.  they always went for the families in small villages.   it passed for quick disease to untrained,  uncaring eye.  

a few sharp snaps were centered around the leg of a wooden chair,  wrestled with until it’d splintered off into a makeshift vampire killer.  a few footsteps later and trevor heaved,  then found it buried beneath a mound of tangled flesh and rib.                  and then the sound was stifled,  snuffed out suddenly like water on flame.     “ never thought i’d ever sympathize with a leach. ”

@spellspeaks​ 

❝    and i thought you said to always aim for the weak spot    ❞     an amused quirk of her lips  ----    despite the horror played out before her  .    perhaps her stomach wasn’t as weak as it once was     (    perhaps it never had been  ,    how many stories of blood    &    fire had filled her ears  ?    how often had they played out the tragedies of history and labeled it as god’s will  ?   )     and though her hood was raised  ,   her gaze was keen  ;     watching  ,   carefully  ,    a glean in her eyes  -----    unflinching at the splintering wood beneath calloused hands  ,   at the sickening sound of impaled flesh  .    her gaze merely lifted  ,   carefully  ,    and focused on the hunter before her

behold the 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇 , with garlands in her hair ;  with holy water upon her, walking to the 𝗌𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 . . .

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖡𝖤𝖧𝖨𝖭𝖣  𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖵𝖤𝖨𝖫  ‚     out

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖣  𝖬𝖤  𝖠  𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖨𝖢  𝖠𝖭𝖣  𝖨  𝖲𝖧𝖠𝖫𝖫  𝖶𝖤𝖠𝖱  𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖳𝖨𝖳𝖫𝖤  𝖯𝖱𝖮𝖴𝖣𝖫𝖸  ‚     study

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖨  𝖠𝖬  𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖮𝖭𝖤  𝖶𝖧𝖮  𝖢𝖠𝖫𝖫𝖤𝖣  𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖱𝖲  𝖣𝖮𝖶𝖭  𝖥𝖱𝖮𝖬  𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖲𝖪𝖸  ‚     aesthetic

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖠𝖲  𝖠  𝖭𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖠𝖫𝖤 ‚  𝖦𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖵𝖨𝖭𝖦  𝖠𝖫𝖶𝖠𝖸𝖲  ‚     meta

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖫𝖨𝖥𝖤  𝖶𝖠𝖲  𝖠  𝖢𝖨𝖱𝖢𝖫𝖤-  𝖥𝖱𝖮𝖬  𝖡𝖨𝖱𝖳𝖧  𝖳𝖮  𝖣𝖤𝖠𝖳𝖧  ‚     answered

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖡𝖤𝖧𝖮𝖫𝖣  𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖬𝖠𝖨𝖣𝖤𝖭  𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧  𝖦𝖠𝖱𝖣𝖫𝖠𝖭𝖣𝖲  𝖨𝖭  𝖧𝖤𝖱  𝖧𝖠𝖨𝖱  ‚     visuals

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖧𝖮𝖫𝖸  𝖶𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖱  𝖴𝖯𝖮𝖭  𝖧𝖤𝖱 ‚  𝖶𝖠𝖫𝖪𝖨𝖭𝖦  𝖳𝖮  𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖲𝖠𝖢𝖱𝖨𝖥𝖨𝖢𝖤  ‚     writing

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱  𝖸𝖮𝖴  𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤  𝖳𝖮  𝖬𝖤  𝖠𝖲  𝖠  𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤𝖱  𝖮𝖱  𝖠𝖭  𝖤𝖷𝖤𝖢𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖤𝖱  ‚     trevor belmont

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤  𝖨𝖲  𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖨𝖢 ‚  𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖭  𝖨𝖭  𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖲𝖬𝖠𝖫𝖫𝖤𝖲𝖳  𝖲𝖯𝖠𝖢𝖤𝖲  ‚     promotional

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖨  𝖶𝖨𝖫𝖫  𝖭𝖮𝖳  𝖡𝖤  𝖥𝖮𝖱𝖦𝖮𝖳𝖳𝖤𝖭  𝖨𝖭  𝖬𝖸  𝖮𝖶𝖭  𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸  ‚     inbox

☽  ･ﾟ *   ‹    𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱  𝖸𝖮𝖴  𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤  𝖳𝖮  𝖬𝖤  𝖠𝖲  𝖠  𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤𝖱  𝖮𝖱  𝖠𝖭  𝖤𝖷𝖤𝖢𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖤𝖱  ‚     trevor belmont