#endlessxdream

It has been about ten years since his partner was brutally torn apart by a vampire before his very eyes. And the memory still haunts his nightmares.

And in that time, he had decided he would kill every fucking vampire he could track down. Taking up the mantle as a Vampire Hunter. He even discarded his own name. Choosing instead to be called by his moniker, The Corinthian.

A title is whispered through the vampire community like a curse. The Corinthian has begun to gain a reputation for the brutal vampire body count he's wracked up. And for his vicious calling card, leaving his vampire victims without their eyes.

The hunter has been on a particular trail for years. Hunting down one of the Endless. The original vampires of which all else spawn from. And tonight, he is finally closing in on his intended target.

He had tracked the Endless down to a remote castle, following the confessions of a particularly talkative fledgling.

A fucking castle. Typical Vampires.

Breaking into the fortress during the early morning had been easy, the hunter managing to kick in a window into an old cellar and slip through despite his large frame. He lands on the shards of broken glass with the prowess of a cat. Making barely any noise as he shifts silently through the castle corridors. Hoping to locate the Endless before any of his remaining subjects wake.

His usually sported sunglasses are pushed back into his hair while he traverses the dark hallway, deep blue eyes on high alert. His neck is comfortably hidden beneath a thick beige turtleneck. Hiding the silver collar clamped firmly around his throat to protect himself from a vampire's bite. His knife holsters are fully visible strapped across his chest, too. Jackets tend to just get in the way while he's hunting.

And there is no need to hide the sheaths. Anyone who may spot him knows why he is here.

The sharp glint of a silver blade weighs comfortably in his palm. Readied and waiting to strike at the slightest perceived movement in the shadows of the old castle.

@endlessxdream has sent this in: there are many reasons why i hate about you , but those reasons turn into something why i love you . | 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 ; a collection of enemies to lovers sentence starters . ( accepting !! )

ARRANGED MARRIAGE SENTENCE STARTERS 2.0

@endlessxdream

Noctis visibly tensed at the sound of the Vampire's voice. It wasn't too often that he heard it. Ever since their wedding, Noctis had been doing his absolute best to avoid him. He spent most of his time outside in the daylight where he wouldn't be bothered by vampires. At night, he would shut himself away and stare at the ceiling until he finally fell asleep.

Morpheus had assured him that he would be safe there. That nobody would harm him, but Noctis knew that all it would take was one hungry vampire to lose control over themselves and he'd be dead. It was for that reason he'd taken to carrying a weapon around with him. Hidden, of course, but there for his own protection.

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who was sold off as some bargaining piece." That was what hurt the most. His father had been against the proposal, of course, but the council had jumped at the opportunity. They had pushed and pushed until Noctis felt like he had to agree to it or he'd he responsible for further bloodshed. "You get to stay here, in your kingdom, surrounded by your people. I'm alone surrounded by people who used to be my enemies."

There was no denying that Morpheus was the one with all the power. Not only was this his castle where his was the final word, but he was physically stronger than Noctis too. This whole arrangement benefited Lucis more than it did Morpheus. Lucis was losing the war and offering him up as some victory prize had been their last ditch effort at stopping the war. He was surprised the vampire had accepted.

The latter half of the 17th Century had been difficult for England. It was difficult for one man too, Robert Gadling. He was worn and weary from it, constantly working, growing jaded from the misery and grime that ceaselessly found its way under his nails.

He spent most of his free evenings at The White Horse, one of the oldest establishments in London. Laughter poured as freely as the ale. And there were women by the armful. But Robert wasn't interested in any of the women. Or at least, he hadn't been since setting his sights on a particularly pale and particularly intriguing man.

This was who he was sat across from in the tavern, staring at the man over a glass of wine. He put the cup down and leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. "We've been meeting here each night for the past two weeks... Surely you can tell me your name now. I've practically told you everything about me."

The Dreaming was something else, something he had never seen before. Yes, he became a raven in this realm, but he never ventured far. There were things that had to be done. Helping the King of Dreams to get his tools back and there was little time for anything else.

The peace had somewhat returned it seemed, and Dream was fixing his realm, so he didn’t dare to ask for a tour or anything else for that matter. What harm could it do to have a look around unsupervised? He didn’t think it would hurt, anyway. So, he hopped up to a windowsill where the window was open and flapped his wings testily. It was still all so new to him. One moment he was sleeping and the other he was dead and right here. What happened to him? He wasn’t that old to have just died in his sleep, right? Were there health signs he had missed? He didn’t think so.

No, there was no time to think about the past, he wanted to know more about this fantastical realm he now was in. He bent his knees, funny, now they bend backwards, then jumped off the windowsill and spread his wings, taking a dive.

He soured through the dark sky and admired all that he saw. He saw movement in the distance and though a part of him told him not to go, his curiosity got the best of him and sped up.

Though, once he got close enough to see what these moving creatures were, something lashed out at him, making the raven caw frantically and flapped his wings, diving between the grasps of four boney, black arms. When he got away from them, he nearly flew into a huge black cloud with glowing red eyes and it was as if it opened its mouth to swallow the raven whole. “FUCK!”

Matthew panicked as each time he got away from one, he bumped into something else. It tired him out, and he lost sight of where to go. He shouldn’t have gone out by himself! Something got hold of his legs and hung him upside down. Matthew desperately tried to free himself. Swinging his wings and flapping them, screeching and cawing in terror. “Let go!”

“Such a pretty little dream,” His holder mused in a voice of starvation.

@endlessxdream

He sees the command for what it is immediately: a display of power, a final act to ensure that the second Corinthian recognises its place in the hierarchy of the Dreaming. It grates on him in a way that would be hard to describe if anyone ever asked. To obey the King of Nightmares is natural; that, he has no quarrel with. But he can't help feeling that this has more to do with his predecessor than himself, and that--that irks him.

@endlessxdream​ liked for a starter

    The Sanctuary was home, a place extremely familiar to Reverie, something he knew inside and out.  With the return of their monarch, Daydream now had more time on his hands.  After more than a century of constant and exhausting duties, adjustment had been difficult, often finding himself wrapped in a frayed aura of lingering emptiness.  First on the agenda had been rest, of course, but one could only recuperate for so long before restlessness set in.  Time was filled then with visits to the Waking via the imaginations of children and adults alike, just taking in the sights, occasionally interacting with those who could see him.  Such a visit occurred on this day, as Reverie cultivated the daydreams of a child mourning her mother, imagining the pair going on a grand adventure as superheroines to protect the playground from bullies.     It was in this park that Reverie spotted it, a familiar glint of light caught his eye--but it was a light he had only seen in the Dreaming, a certain effect with how an ethereal light refracted upon glass.  Careful, he stepped over to the tree in which he saw it, a shard of indigo glass caught within a bird's nest.  "...hmm?" he hummed to himself and climbed the tree to carefully pluck the shard from the twigs and grass and feathers; of course, the nest also had a few other shiny trinkets in it, as crows nests often had.  Glass in hand, he vanished, returning to the Dreaming...specifically the throne room of his King, carefully cradling the shard within his palm, close to his chest as though such a precious and delicate thing.     "Apologies for the interruption, Your Highness..." he spoke gently, the warm tenor carrying upon a pleasant tone.  "...but I found something from our realm in the Waking...and thought you should know."

Corinthian holds Morpheus close with his hands fisted in midnight robes. Shuddering lightly under the offered attention. He cannot control the audible gasps of desire and mild jealousy that the currently unpreoccupied ocular mouth hisses.

Corinthian wonders briefly how both mouths seem to have a mind of their own at times. The right very uptight and shrewd. Whereas the left has always been shamelessly loud and emotional.

The right almost seems reluctant to kiss Morpheus, whereas the left hungers for it. The Nightmare himself left shamefully voiceless and pining.