#sanguisms

Whether or not Dracula was around; creatures of the night would roam in the wilds all over the world. However, in this era they were more common in Europe than anywhere else. Perhaps this was because Europe was the last place Dracula had been when he set foot on Earth. That was, before Alucard had slayed him again, with the help of two hunters.

Nevertheless, while Alucard had fulfilled his main responsibility decades ago, he remained as a hunter of night creatures that sought to kill innocents. Sure, he had other hobbies, but slaying the monsters of hell was his main job, as it were.

And there it was; the familiar sound of a woman’s scream. The ungodly screech of a horror beyond this world. Sounded like a recipe for tragedy; until Alucard got involved. In a blur of white fur and gnashing teeth; he jumped in between the gangly creature and the woman that seemed to be frozen with fear.

In wolf form, Alucard was fast and more brutal with his attacks. He lunged towards the monster’s head and ripped out one of it’s eyes before dodging a swipe from it’s claws by switching to his bat form. He dropped to the ground once he changed again into his human form.

While the creature was bleeding out, it didn’t look like it was going to quit. It let out a horrifying screech before it began to lumber forward. “If you have the capacity to move, I suggest you do it now.” He called out to the woman he was trying to protect.

unprompted ask // always accepting !!           standing     'pon     tiptoes     hands     outstrech,     touch     a     gentle     caress     against     ears;     lips     a     delicate     kiss     to     tip     of     nose     ♡ ( @sanguisms​ )

she   was   a   glamorous   art   decorating   the   gallery   wall   of   his   sentiments,   the   canvas   of   tenderness   and   gentleness   that   communicated   in   the   form   of   warmth   and   affection      ⸻      it   was   a   communication   that,   ultimately,   could   speak   volumes   and   far   more   than   written   eloquence   could   convey.      he   watched   her   then,   coming   in   the   veil   of   her   grace,   jazzing   to   the   sound   of   her   own   steady   heartbeat,   as   if   his   presence   was   naught   but   a   humbling   breeze   unfit   to   produce   the   slightest   agitation.   and   he,   with   an   enamoured   language   beneath   his   tongue,   with   his   heart   nearly   leaping   through   the   cavern   of   his   mouth,   could   only   stare   and   wait,   basking   in   everything   that   was   her.

searing   complexion   conveyed   his   passion,   the   roots   of   his   sentiments   expanded   when   her   petite   digits   played   with   his   appendages      (   that   in   response   wiggled,   sensitive   to   every   touch   )      and   when   he   thought   she   was   done   with   her   wicked   ministrations,   a   kiss   was   deposited   so   lovingly   upon   the   tip   of   his   nose,   recalling   memories   from   other   times   together.      she   got   him   there,   undoubtedly.

“     I  PROMISE.     ”     nunu  is  no  stranger  to  the  idea  of  violence:     the  harsh  tundra  of  northern  valoran  is  infamous  for  its  unrelenting  climate  and  people,     warring  bands  and  tribes  struggling  for  survival.     he  was  oblivious,     once,     as  a  boy  watching  his  caravan  burn  to  ashes  at  the  hands  of  raiders.     it  is  not  dissimilar  here,     in  spite  of  how  they  have  progressed  from  medieval  technologies.     instead  of  fighting  with  arrows  and  swords,     their  conflicts  are  resolved  with  coins.     their  rewards  are  not  conquest  nor  survival,     but  power  and  gold.     it  is  all  too  easy  to  lose  a  child  here,     to  see  them  underfoot,     struggling  to  be  overlooked  by  others  desperate  to  throw  around  their  strength.    

and  so  he  takes  bonnie’s  hand  in  his,     entangles  his  fingers  with  hers  so  they  will  not  be  pulled  apart.     with  this  she  seems  satisfied,     and  they  begin  walking.

unprompted ask // always accepting !!     steady  breaths  become  slowed  ,  leaning  weight  growing   ;   a  telling  sign  that  sleep  had  consumed.   head  rests  comfortably  on  bicep  ,  his  arm  embraced  against  chest   —   fingers  remaining  entwined   ♡ ( @sanguisms​ )

he   was   just   a   young   boy,   the   pride   of   his   mother's   soul   and   the   motive   she   had   to   embrace   the   concept   of   family,   still.   a   young   boy   with   a   life   that   was   just   commencing   to   escalate:   the   first   fights   in   the   pits   of   ionia   exhibited   his   potential,   spreading   rumours   from   the   crowd's   core,   and   leaving   him   with   the   first   marks   of   wars   now   permanently   ingrained   in   his   natural   tanned   complexion.   he   was   just   a   young   boy,   experiencing   the   fires   of   passion,   the   beauty   of   love,   and   the   intensity   of   devotion   ⸻   an   experience   that   was   offered   to   him   in   the   form   of   beauty   and   grace,   in   the   shape   of   a   petite   and   delicate   human,   who   yet   retained   an   energy   that   even   settrigh   had   to   fear   in   moments   of   tension.  

                   the   quiet   footsteps   betrayed   only   by   the   rustle   of   leaves   under   her   weight   as   she   strode   through   the   dark   forest   ,   where   the   light   guiding   her   was   only   fireflies   bravely   accompanying   her   on   her   journey   .   the   witch   calmly   led   her   weary   horse   ,   constantly   walking   in   one   direction   ,   knowing   exactly   where   to   go   ;   whispers   of   ghosts   and   phantoms   begging   for   vengeance   for   a   tragedy   that   recently   happened   nearby   ;   yet   her   emerald   eyes   were   still   calm   ,   for   revenge   was   not   her   goal   when   it   was   not   her   war   .

                    the   village   she   had   visited   had   been   sleeping   a   long   time   ago   ,   and   the   remnants   of   the   house   fires   that   glowed   behind   the   dirty   windows   glowed   again   as   the   young   witch   passed   by   .   she   felt   this   aura   more   and   more   strongly   ,   this   sadness   and   despair   ;   she   left   her   horse   in   front   of   the   inn   and   opened   the   locked   door   as   if   no   lock   existed   there   .   her   heart   skipped   a   beat   as   she   saw   what   she   was   about   to   see   ;   the   person   all   the   ghosts   whispered   about   ,   and   the   one   who   survived   .                     ❝   i   know   breaking   in   is   very   rude   of   me   ,   but   let   the   stranger   have   a   word   with   you   ❞                     the   freckled   face   with   a   mysterious   smile   was   directed   at   the   girl   who   ,   in   her   opinion   ,   looked   like   a   pile   of   misfortunes   and   tears   ;   she   felt   that   family   blood   ,   she   felt   something   in   it   that   she   had   .                     ❝   bonnie   ,   right   ?   ❞

@sanguisms​       ♥     for   little  starter ( accepting !   )

there is the undeniable smell of sweet smoke, as though someone had burned a sapling upon a funeral pyre. he smells of cloves burnt upon offering, of her own hearth and home, and of decaying leaves. he smells of autumn and of rain, old wood and the forest itself.