#felemfidelem

Vampire Hunter!Priam was too fun of an AU to pass up so here’s a starter! Is your muse a fellow hunter, or a creature of the night themselves? Up to you! Going for a thread that’s sort of Castlevania inspired for October. I’d say magic still exists so let’s just go ham!

Edit: taken! @sheerloyalty @felemfidelem

Whether or not people believed in them, rumors always spread. From some it was in a hushed whisper, others it was a rallying declaration, and from others it was repeated with a dose of skepticism and bitter laugh, but repeated nonetheless.

Vampires, ghosts, werewolves, local legends without names and descriptions that were blurred around the edges- those were his query.

Hunting shadows was the equivalent of chasing rumors. He’d been chasing rumors for quite awhile, venturing out where common townsfolk wouldn’t dare, where others didn’t come back from. Where there was supernatural smoke there wasn’t always fire, but people couldn’t be blamed for leaping to conclusions. Unknown reasons for illness or disappearances sparked fear, and fear demanded action, explanation, anything but letting the oppressive unknown rule a region.

In other words, where there was trouble, a hero was needed. All he had to do was follow the trail of turmoil and gossip to it.

He didn’t mind so much even when there was nothing to be found. Travel suited him. Dust from the road lightly clung to his clothing as he entered a tavern at dusk. His presence always drew a few glances- it wasn’t every day a tall, rugged stranger in a hooded cloak and assorted furs with a coiled whip and silver sword on his hip came to town. He gave the room a nod and ordered a meal before he settled in a corner where he could keep everyone in the room in sight and within earshot.

He didn’t mind if he didn’t find trouble- but this time, it was near certain there was a vampire around. Missing persons and reports of an assailant too strong to be daunted by even several men had spread out in a radius from the point at which he sat from other towns. It seemed he was getting close to the heart of the matter.

And when he found the heart of it, the sword at his side or a stake in his pack would drive right through it.

He observed from under the hem of his hood, but looked up at a presence by him.

Priam’s guard was never truly let down, but he did offer a half smirk. He nudged the chair across from him out with his foot, a clear invitation for the other person.

This certainly wasn’t what she had hoped for when she’d accepted Eldigan’s request. The first mistake is innocuous, but it throws off her rhythm, and a second, third, and fourth soon follow. Her arms and legs don’t move the way she wants them to, growing tenser with every small error etched into her mind. What had she hoped for, then? Had she wanted to indulge in some small form of fun? She was never good at that. The knot in her throat grows tighter with each breath; she steps on Eldigan’s foot and fumbles, hissing an apology under her breath.

It had been a foolish idea, all of it. And now she was letting Eldigan down. Chin up, then, for the student who believed in her (once, at least; likely not anymore), and she pulls her act together, scrounging up some small amount of the poise she should have had from the start.  The finish is much stronger than the middle, though she still sighs quietly to herself when she sees their final score. Better than it could have been, but still a reflection of her failings. 

With the end of the school year on the horizon, the students begin to consider their futures. While many already have titles to inherit or positions promised to them after graduation, many are hopeful that the annual Future’s Fair will give them a chance to make connections and secure the launching point of their new career. Commanders of city watches and household guards have come to recruit promising students to their ranks. Famed military commanders such as Judith von Daphnel and Randolf von Bergliez have also come to impart some wise advice. Even a little networking can go a long way, so make sure to attend!

     Bits and pieces of conversations floated into Andrei’s ears as he walked through the fair. Being at a place like this, he reflected, was rather like one of those social functions lords were obligated to attend. Easy enough to manage, as long as one kept their wits about them and knew what to say and when, but nothing truly notable or exciting. Dull, one could even say. Though it did intrigue him that, over the course of the several different conversations he had found himself taking part in or merely listening in on, not a single one had mentioned anything related to bloodlines or the like. Sure, occasionally some commander or other mentioned the family they came from, but in this strange realm, it did not appear as though blood held nearly as much importance as it did back in Jugdral.

     And isn’t this just what you wanted? A place where your worth wasn’t judged by something you had not an ounce of control over? Andrei sighed, absently rubbing near the wound on his chest, the action having become something of a habit over the past few weeks. It still hurt, and not any less than when he had first arrived, which worried him, but he had found that the pain was much more manageable when he wasn’t physically exerting himself.

     A large crowd of students ahead were clustered around a sign that read “GENERAL RIDING TECHNIQUE”, where a tall Paladin with his hand patting the mane of a calm-looking gray mare was speaking, and Andrei stopped briefly, joining the very back of the crowd next to a blond-haired man. “He certainly seems to know what he’s talking about, does he not?” he remarked quietly after a few minutes, “Though it’s hardly general riding technique as advertised, when he’s mainly speaking of lance-fighting.” Different weapons often required vastly different ways of handling themselves, not least when on horseback, after all.

❝ＣＯＮＴＩＮＵＥＤ　ＦＲＯＭ：🌹 ❞  ; 【 @felemfidelem. 】

—NOT THAT HE had expected Eldigan to be an unconquerable challenge, but there is a certain delight in earnest interest and a light hand on his arm. Lorenz would consider the very notion exaggeration, were someone to point it out to him, but he is *beaming.*

“There is much to be proud of. House Gloucester has stood since time immemorial.” Smile morphs into something a little more measured but no less enthusiastic as the pair begin their stroll. (Were he honest, it is something of a *rarity* to have another prompt this conversation—truly a shame.) “As one of the premier noble houses of Fódlan, and one of the blessed few with a coveted seat at the Leicester Alliance’s roundtable, we pride ourselves on a shrewd, even hand in all matters of governance, and a dogged commitment to the continued security of our people.

“And, of course, an eye to finer pursuits. My father has always had something of an interest in cuisine and cultivation, and my mother for impeccable landscapes and vinification. They have made a formidable match, as I am sure you could guess! I myself have a longstanding interest in the reason arts, magic and the actual glyphic construction of spells—and I am an accomplished equestrian!”

(Which, to be most sure, is not quite pertinent to Eldigan’s initial interest, but… he is as much House Gloucester as its storied history.)

“And, while not an accomplishment of our own, in the traditional sense, we have always been blessed with the most beautiful landscapes in Fódlan, especially during the fairer months. Very little compares to Beltanne—the city of my birth—in full bloom at spring’s end.”

The mission was a resounding success, despite how difficult and exhausting it had been. The knights were beginning to clear off and head back to the monastery - Ares himself had already packed his things. He was about to mount one of the horses they’d brought when white hot pain flashed through his head sending stars dancing across his visual field.

Ares clutched his head, waiting for the pain to pass. It did not but at least it started to subside enough for him to get on the horse. He grabs a flask of water, the cool metal sending shockwaves through his fingers, deperate for a drink.

“Pathetic, useless, arrogant! You’ll never be half the man your father was!”

His blood ran cold. That voice... his mother’s - it could only be a hallucination because the woman it belonged to had been dead for nearly twenty years. It was painful to hear, not just the words but her voice; he’d yearned to here it for so very long. Ares had even thought he was beginning to forget his mother’s soft, dulcet voice.

She never-- she would never have said anything like that to him.

He spurred the horse to move, run, advance, take him far, far away from this place. Maybe that would silence the voices that became more and more erratic, shrill - screaming at him. He was a poor excuse of a man compared to his father; bloodstained and violent but. Mother--

“I wish I’d never given birth to you!” “Lowly scum! Keep your head down, I don’t want to see your face!” “Violent, deranged little boy. You’re a curse! A stain!” “I wish I’d died with your father instead of having to raise you!”

His hands trembled as he held the reins, eyes staring forward. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t-- didn’t hurt him because it wasn’t real. Maybe he was exhausted, dehydrated, had eaten something strange? He raced forward, desperately trying to ignore what ever cruel demon thought to steal his mother’s voice. She loved him - she had loved him! Flawed as he was, his mother was warm and gentle; everytime she looked at him her eyes had been filled with adoration. He would not, no he could not let himself believe otherwise.

Garreg Mach was in sight, finally. Ares would take the horse back to the stables and make a beeline for the infirmary. It’s master would know how to handle it. She would cure him and he’d get an early night and everything would be okay in the morning.

Then, Ares saw a ghost.

   ♡   //    INJURY PROMPTS.  /  @felemfidelem

          she won’t ask him to save her, this stranger, because humanity begging blind favors of seraphs has never ended well. it should’ve been anything — it should’ve been any other day. ( isn’t that the life of someone trained for the battlefield, that any other day could be their last? there’s something in his eyes that suggests as much. honey dense enough to be mercury, so viscious as to be lethal. ) it should’ve been any other day; it should’ve been any other mission. was she careless?

          or was it just that: the fairytales that were never meant to be hers, where the voices of angels came to make a prophet of the dying?

          is it the blood loss that’s making her delirious, or just the shock?

          she thinks she smiles at him.

          she won’t ask him to carry her will back to the others, this lion among men. no apologies to shiro, or her dearest belongings to mitama, or bellerophon to andrei. pride runs red in her family like a bloodstream, and that, at least, won’t ever drain out of her. anyway, is a knight a knight when the sun at his back such a splendid halo makes?

          ❝ you know... i don’t— think i know your name, but. ❞ she’s not sure when he’d helped her to her feet, but the unsteady step she takes doesn’t feel like her own. and the sounds of the distant battlefield clamor with the symphonic terror of a summer storm glued together with the clouds inside her ears. ❝ but it’s starting to... not hurt anymore.

                              that’s—

                                                  ... worrying. right? ❞

          grass meets her knees again at some point instead of his answer, and his supporting arm is a vambrace around her middle. an image of a wooden bridge comes to mind — crumbling at either half, held in place still by one solitary beam. it feels appropriate. planks and strips and splinters crumble to the rapids. and the swirling water below is the whirlpoool of an artist’s blurring brushstroke in crystalline and aqueous green.

"no! that is not the case at all!" he found himself reacting pretty quickly, eager to settle any misunderstanding about the situation. he couldn't believe himself, letting his own brooding bother a student like this. "i just... well, you look a lot like an old friend of mine. that's why i was surprised to see you." he sighs and shakes his head. perhaps he was revealing too much about himself, but he'd rather there not any chance of lingering misunderstandings.

Her cheeks took on a hot, pink glow and not from the biting cold. Oh dear, she thought, had she stuck her foot in her mouth? Luckily he’s laughing - sincerely and deeply, face adorned with cheer.

“I don’t wish to sound rude,” she began, although she had to be honest, “whilst beauty is in the eye of the beholder... no. I’m definitely not a fan.”

“I worry I won’t be able to burn the image from my memory.”

Elincia crouched down, to join him, rolling more snow into the base. It would have to be strong and firm for them to build from and decorate. Hopefully in a more... traditional fashion than the professors. She wanted a charming snowman, or maybe even a whole family!