#vcda

@vcda​ : ❛  we’re really going to do this, aren’t we ?  ❜ | x

               “𝘋𝘖𝘕'𝘛 𝘛𝘌𝘓𝘓 𝘔𝘌 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳–”

          “𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝛐𝐰 𝛐𝐟 𝛐𝐩𝐩𝛐𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝛐𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭,” D said. Though it stirred his hair and cape little more than a gentle breeze, the howling wind and chill in the air combined to paint such a hostile environment; they hadn’t even approached the castle, though it felt as if the mountainside alone wanted them gone from its midst. But it wasn’t the cold or the poor light that painted his features in such an odd way—both the paleness of his skin and the intense shadows beneath his eyes were a remnant of the bout of sunlight syndrome he’d only barely begun to recover from. There hadn’t been enough time to rest and recover properly, even with the hand’s regenerative abilities.

          “𝘈𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘞𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭,” came the hoarse voice of the hand above the biting wind. “𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯. 𝘐𝘧 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘦.” And then D would have to return again at the next opportunity, because it wasn’t feasible that he could leave a job unfinished. Especially at the risk of more people being killed.

          D, who had been periodically using the outcroppings around them for support during their ascent, finally cast his eyes upward at the castle shimmering near the mountain’s peak. “𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝚰 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝛐𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝚰 𝐰𝛐𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝛐𝐩𝐩𝛐𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝛐𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝛐𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝.”

          “𝐓𝚮𝚬𝐘 𝚱𝚴𝚬𝐖 𝐖𝚮𝚨𝐓 𝐓𝚮𝚬𝐘 𝐖𝚬𝐑𝚬 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝛐𝐫—𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝛐 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝛐𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐒𝛐𝐦𝐞𝛐𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝛐𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝛐𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝛐𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲.”

It was a rarity, a very scarce thing to see Vada get frustrated. Not so much in a hungering way, that was different, but this was more like a scoffing, nagging wife, as she applied pressure to one of his cheeks before she finished clearing the stains. Vada bared only a moment her teeth at him, cupping his chin between her finger and thumb. "Stop it. I mean it, D." Vada caught herself, and closed her eyes, sighing. "Please... you're very tired. I beg of you, get rest..." ( @vcda​ | cont. )

               “𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.” Finally speaking up, the hand’s voice was almost disturbingly calm, not a trace of the joking or teasing tones he normally took with D. “𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.”

          “𝚰 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.” D spoke carefully, all too aware that moving his face too much would likely force her to restrain him even further. His eyes lifted, gazing somewhere past her head and beyond. “𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬–”

               “𝘈 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘦, 𝘺𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦...”

          Despite the hand’s warning, that was exactly what D did: peeling himself from her grasp, the dhampir moved around and onward, that creeping fatigue expertly hidden from his expression and gait. It would fade, given even a few minutes of time to rest, but D knew it was still unwise to push limits when it wasn’t necessary. And, for a time, they’d found a measure of peace in the aftermath of his last encounter. “𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝛐𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝚴𝛐𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝛐𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝛐 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝛐 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝛐 𝐜𝛐𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐬,” he said. There were no safer places to rest across the whole of the Frontier... provided the abode wasn’t already occupied.

@vcda​ : Vada knew not why his chin and cheeks were covered with blood. A scrap of cloth was taken off her sleeve and she wrapped the tip around two fingers, lightly dabbing and cleaning away the mess. Do she dare ask if he's finally had a taste? Or was this from a cut she could not see just yet? Red eyes focused on her motions, for now, keeping this moment silent, as he would have preferred. | unprompted

         “𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝚴'𝐓 𝚮𝚨𝐕𝚬 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝚮𝚨𝐓.”

          It was rare for D to emerge from any fight with a single blemish, much less in such a nightmarish state. None of the blood and viscera staining his features was his own, thankfully. But it certainly painted a nightmarish picture of what state the bodies of his opponents could have possibly been left in.

          He obliged her silently in spite of himself, standing dutifully still, with his blade yet clutched in his grasp until he thought to shake the gore from its edge with a single gentle flick, and returned it to its sheath. He appeared largely unchanged, though no doubt someone as astute as Megnavada would notice: the dark of his irises was tinged with a gentle, fading red. By his own will or no he had, it seemed, partaken of the blood of something. The faintest of creases appeared between his brows, but only for a moment. Mercifully, even the hand didn’t call him out on it.

          “𝐖𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝛐𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐓𝐡𝛐𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝛐𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝛐𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬.” And, against everything, even something like him was in need of rest. It was plain to see that such an intense battle had taken a great deal of his energy, in the end. To make matters worse, the consumption of another’s blood was ever a line D wished never to cross, and always was there a sense of disorientation, perhaps exhaustion once the effects of imbibing wore off.

@vcda​ : why did you bring me here ? | x

          “𝚰𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝛐𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐲𝛐𝐮, 𝚰'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝛐𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝛐𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝛐𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.”

          A scenic dell, stippled with sun-bleached ruins and wildflowers—seemingly an unlikely place for D to be familiar with, much less have some attachment to. He explained nothing; the detour had been something of an impulsive decision after all, one of very few times D ever deigned to act on such a fleeting recollection. But, as a hunter, he was bound to travel anywhere, everywhere. He could never know when he might next find the opportunity to visit her.

          Though dwarfed by the scattered copses and chunks of rubble, over the crest of one last hill they came upon it. Though the headstones varied in age and size, some slanted and sagging with time and others yet fresh, the small graveyard was clearly still minded by some caretaker or another, free of weeds and other debris that might interrupt the rest of the dead. D was certain to leave his horse behind, approaching instead on foot.

          A flower... when he’d picked it up, none could be certain. He hadn’t stopped once since they first entered the valley. But clutched there in his fingers was a delicate aster, and the dhampir stooped to place it gingerly at the head of a grave. The lettering etched into the stone had long since faded, bearing a name that could no longer be made out. Surely, then, D had to have done this before to know with certainty it was the correct one.

          The wind stirred with him, when D turned to take his leave. Returned to his horse, mounted the saddle, reoriented to face the road once more, all without a hint of explanation. “𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧.”

@vcda​ : [ comfort ] your muse pulling mine into a reassuring hug | x

          𝚮𝚬 𝚴𝚬𝚬𝐃𝚴'𝐓 𝚳𝚨𝚱𝚬 𝐆𝐔𝚬𝐒𝐒𝚬𝐒 𝚨𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝚮𝐘 she was so shaken.

          D stood in the complete stillness of a bloody and brutal aftermath. Though the expanses of skin one could glimpse through the rips and tears in his clothes were all but spotless, they hadn’t been a moment earlier—flesh had been melted away by searing heat, leaving viscera and the stark white of his bones to burn in the sunlight. The hunter had lost limbs, been skewered through by blades, riddled with bullets, even his very head had dangled from a severed neck as if by skin alone. His face hadn’t changed through any of it, ever impassive, but there was no questioning it: D had met his demise.

          And yet, all their attackers had to show for their triumph had been a grisly, if quick, end.

          The dhampir stood whole before her without so much as a scar from the wounds he’d sustained. He had died, most assuredly, his body slumping lifelessly before having been consumed by a pall of unbearable light, the roaring of fire and wind as if a terrible storm had enveloped him in the span of a moment. And yet there they were; D remained there, held somewhat awkwardly in her arms, regarding her as if nothing had happened at all. As if his murderers didn’t lay broken and dismembered at their feet, killed by his own hand after they had killed him.

          No doubt, Megnavada sought just as comfort for herself, having witnessed something so horrific, as she intended to offer him with such an embrace. The hunter abided her in silence, and tucked his sword away without so much as a breath. It wasn’t the first time D had been killed, but never in  her presence. Was she even aware that he was capable of such things? Oftentimes it wasn’t part of the many rumors that circulated about him; someone would have needed to survive to tell the tale, after all.

          When D finally spoke, his voice was unchanged. Perhaps that calm steadiness might be a balm for a mind so confused. “𝚨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝛐𝐮 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭?”