#HEHATES. ╱ " WHEN I DECIDED TO FOLLOW MY DREAM , I HAD ALREADY DISCARDED MY LIFE . "
" THOSE CANDLE FLAMES WERE LIKE THE LIVES OF MEN . SO FRAGILE . SO DEADLY . LEFT ALONE , THEY LIT AND WARMED . LET RUN RAMPANT , THEY WOULD DESTROY THE VERY THINGS THEY WERE MEANT TO ILLUMINATE . EMBRYONIC BONFIRES , EACH BEARING A SEED OF DESTRUCTION SO POTENT IT COULD TUMBLE CITIES AND DASH KINGS TO THEIR KNEES . "
eyes don't meet the situation at hand, bright and hopeful in seeing his darling boy in the flesh. much has changed in appearance but his eyes are covered in rose - tinted glasses, hardly noticing the alterations to the face, to the eyes, to those lips that no longer smile for him. you know what they say, to live a life in grand delusion, oblivious to reality. they ache terribly so to reach out and gently stroke his cheek, the body he hasn't felt the touch of in over three hundred years. even so, he's respectful of his space... for the time being.
unfortunate the blind of this beasts eyes of the grievances his darling boy has endured to take them back. he yearns so passionately, feverishly, so intensely that they would let the flames of hell lick up his body and become enraptured in the layers of lucifer's domain.
" oh, i am no phantom. i did heed your warning but i needed to see your face to ease the worry. " not at all worried by the threatening shot to the skull. shoulders are lax whilst releasing a deep, and relaxing just a centimeter more. eventually he will come around: he knows. he hopes. he dreams.
he doesn't budge.
then a laugh escaped, momentarily amused by such a claim. the exclamations don't startle them, doesn't push them away, instead want to pull in closer, enraptured by his darling boy. " don't tell me you truly believe that. i never took you for a fool, my dear — " just as you didn't take me to be too stubborn. " — it gives those that cannot protect themselves an ease rest, much like the garlic cloves and the cross that hangs over the mantle. even their gods can't protect them... however, you already knew that. " he lets the silence sit before continuing. " i can come in at any time i wish but i don't, out of respect; still, to comfort you, i will play along. "
i know you will seek me out again. and i will be here, waiting, just like you've waited for me all these years.
" so... " he tries again, giving him that sweet sincere smile that's only reserved for him when they're both alone with one another, " may i come in — " a pause: an expected look and voice quietening down with a tone that's almost sounds... regretful. even guilty somber can nest itself in a vampires conscious. " my heart? i miss you terribly. "
HIS GOOD EYE IS AT WAR WITH THAT OF WHICH HIS HEART KNOWS TO BE TRUE . . .
that pale skin , scattered memories remember it being flushed with color when he held their face in his hands , bathed in the light of a blood moon . my dear , my heart , it has the demon folding an arm behind his back to hide the trembling of his hand , the other squeezing nonexistent life out of the door handle . the stone of his implant eye feels heavy in his skull and the scar of cassius' clawed touch burns against his skin . the vampire's mark , his scent , his proclaimed love — it burdens sylus with the sting of poison . lips pursed again , they swallow , and hard , as if to accept the flow of both toxin and defeat down his throat . oh , i am no phantom . sylus curses the way it soothes the pounding in his chest , reassures him , even , that his life still has purpose .
as long as you walk the earth , i still have purpose .
being cassius' darling boy is a curse that sylus wears like a lead coat , every step like dragging his feet through sand , just to get closer to him . just to catch up to lace fingers and caress face once more — why didn't you tell me it was so lonely without you ?
still , to comfort you —
nothing about pale skin and fanged smile brings sylus comfort . i am no phantom . then why does their skin prickle as a warning of an omen approaching ? " i'm hopeful . . . " he finally speaks into the small space that keeps his teeth from grinding . " if not garlic or crosses or even holy water coursing down your throat , i was hopeful that something , anything — " could save you , bring you back to me . " would repel you , but you're determined to cloak in shadow , no matter where it takes you , cassius . " brow furrows , but that name tastes sweet , tongue layered in accent then sugar . cautiously , sylus steps aside , granting entry into his home , a picture of velvet scented with wolf's bane and dimly lit by candles . " call my bluff . " the absence of a formal invite hangs heavily as his one dark pupil points down .
i miss you terribly .
how cruel . too simply miss cassius is an understatement . to spend three hundred years underwater , clinging onto cassius beneath the ice as a final breath , it felt closer to the truth . the lingering hope slowly leaving his chest , the years of suffering bite and burn and claw , hands plunging into soil wishing they were curling around the arch of back , pulling cassius into him with hands that fit beautifully into the dips of their hips . to be missed terribly by cassius , so casually , affection dropped on his front porch in the dead of night , oh , how it makes him a fool . cassius' honeyed words be damned , the warmth in sylus' chest burns hot enough to double him over into something pathetic , something yearning , something waiting to be swept off of its feet .
he waits for the vampire to enter , to make a fool out of tradition and superstition , to further pull the demon into the seal of their requiem — a quiet remembrance of soft touches and loving holds shared in wisteria casted shadows . brow softens at the thought , then twist again as the smell of blood passes him . fool .
agitated acrylics began the moment the long hand on the clock aims to strike eight. drilling, deep siren - blue against the fake marbled countertop, before the open sign, painted wood and stamped lettering, was flipped over, and the first of fatigued, eyebag - heavy readers and those engraved into the sacrosanct of the studying, wandered over. mal bit back a tremendous sigh, then smiled. the smile, at least, the most genuine thing about them, despite the hour and the day. swoosh and they do not look up, the deep blue of their nails awash with waves of glitter, their concentration as they deliver four drinks to a full table uninterrupted. of course! to the mumbled thanks, which mal didn't receive often, but when it was received, thus it was devoured, sunlight to darkness. only then, catching oval tray and placing it beneath their arm, does their gaze flick up, and lock. locking on the slither. rain and jacket, flashing over his head. lips thinned further at the skin, sliced and shown.
their annoyance surges at the same time as the characteristic flush. it never fails; he utters three words to them, and that colours them crimson to the ear - tips. apron to be tied in a clean knot, as though he wasn't wandering in here, and keeping smile on their lips — tinged pink in tenderness, tasting slight of sweetness from strawberries in the lipstick flavouring — as they head straight towards him. "of course it isn't." it is as kind as a thorn, pressed into his palm. true thorn comes in the soft whack of the back of the tray to his freshly - aproned hips. "nothing is ever your fault."
immediate, waving him away. except, not. arching towards him with spryness of a cat, one finger extended in what could only be described as admonition. "if you think me having things under control doesn't include taking count? wrong-o, rain boy. you walked into the thundercloud." hissed, and delivered with honey sweet, as they wait so patiently for him to take the tray. "you get table nine as penance, by the way. for being seventeen minutes late. rain, or shine, or sopping wet like a paper bag, can you please show up on time? it's tuesday." implication heavy. for it to be tuesday means that there's the gaggle of geese, as they lovingly named that group of eight, who always arrived loud and boisterous. mal keeps up with them in distraction, but raf is a requirement behind the counter. "wait. no. don't move." mal grabs a nearby cloth, twisting it to fold. "you're dripping. did you seriously walk here in this downpour?"
A PUFF OF AIR COMES OUT OF HIM WITH A SURPRISED ' OOF ' AT THE TRAY HITTING HIS HIP , THE TRAY THAT HE CLUTCHES GENTLY , THEN SNATCHES ONCE ITS FREE FROM MALARA'S GRIP . . .
" it's tuesday ? " fuck . where the hell had the time gone ? lost to the wave of video game levels , point counters and earning extra lives . however , none of those extra lives could save him from the ominously cheerful smile and cat eyes staring him down . still , he makes an attempt to recover quickly , fanning malara with the empty tray to blow the loose strands of hair out of their face . " of course it's tuesday . " said as if it were something painfully obvious , tongue sucking against his teeth . " finally , something we can agree on . nothing is ever my fault . i just don't have to go around with that ' holier than thou ' act to be proven innocent . "
drink tray tucked under his arm , he punches his hands into his pockets and gives an exaggerated roll of heterochromatic eyes , black bleeding into gray . " . . . fine . table nine , whatever . " uncharacteristic of him to submit so easily , but considering his serial tardiness and malara constantly covering for his ass , well , maybe he's getting off easy . " remember , this was your idea . if you see me throwing this tray like kung lao's bladed hat , don't play dumb . " the rest whispered under his breath . " i fucking hate table nine , damn angel . " he seems determined to be on the receiving end of more punishment , judging by the ways his lips seem to flap his way into a harsher sentence . eyes flash to the commotion erupting from the direction of table nine , energetic and loud before the clock had even hit eight thirty . " the last thing they need is fucking coffee . " shoulders deflate as he throws his head back with an aggravated yet silent sigh .
wait . no . don't move .
he doesn't listen , straightening his neck to look at malara with a raised brow , water from his hair dripping down his cheek . " well , you see , when it's coming down and you have to risk coming in late to the horrors of a life sentence with table nine , yes , you walk in the downpour . i know i'm supernatural , but even i'm not a freak of nature that can dodge rain . " bitter and sarcastic , yet it somehow all melts away when the towel dabs against his cheek , his eyes softening and lips left agape , sucking in a single baited breath . he looks at them , blinking away the dizziness of his heart pounding in his ears . " it's — no big deal . " voice such a soft whisper that it embarrasses him , involuntarily displayed by the heat rushing to his cheeks . flowers . there's a floral scent coming from their wrist that has his chest lifting with a deep inhale . subtle , as if incased in a gentle layer of powder . eyelids close , chest deflates , then another inhale at the towel drying his hair . to have it be their fingers in his hair instead — eyes crack open and look away . " i can do it myself . . . " hands leaving his pockets and crossing over his chest . " i won't be late again , okay ? " not quite an apology , but it still summons a huff out of him as does their continued soft touch .
is actually is a bit hard to believe kieran goes out of his way for them. the disbelief doesn't exist due to insecurity, no, but birdie doesn't believe they've given him a reason. sure, they'd met by happenstance. sure, they'd provided a helping hand when they could have just ignored it. but it was just in birdie's name ; extend a hand, forward or beyond, so to speak. something engrained into their very bones. nothing special, nothing selective. nothing could change birdie's mind about that except — fingers snagging his wrist bring a pause. metaphorically and physically. he keeps talking. steps forward, coaxing birdie back until shoulders rest to a wall. looks at him with a confused expression, eyes darting to glance towards the fingers and up to the arm. something forms of their tongue and, well, kieran explains it without being asked. ' no one's ever given me anything before. '
mouth hangs open with suspended words which are lost to a deep inhale. finger to chin, eyes having little elsewhere to look except at kieran's face. isn't sure how to react to that motion, brows knitting despite having the same look about them. eyes tracing every visible part of his face ; heavy bang down to the peek of creeping neck tattoos. ah, there's that feeling. permeating dread from the whole of kieran's presence. heavy, deeply rooted like a tree. maybe even ancient. it'd be enough to make birdie tremble if not ... for the bracelet. dampens it. makes it chewable. ( or maybe they're just getting used to it. ) doesn't mean their fingers don't twitch in their limpness at his side. tongue pokes at the corner of their mouth, eyes cast downward. " no- no i think you've covered it, really. "
they don't look up again and don't really have a chance to since kieran's presenting something in his palm. freed from a leather pocket, a red bracelet threated in a way similar to arrows. doesn't have a single hint of charge to it ; dreadful or light. " friendship bracelet— " puff of a laughter, almost nervous, " that's not what i gave you. " has to correct him, a nippy little impulse. " it's suppose to help you, even a little bit, with your ... poltergeist issues. ward off the bad— vibes, so to speak. "
looks up at him then, still a bit wide - eyed. kieran hasn't been given anything ? birdie hasn't been given anything in return. a thank you, a vocal gratitude, sure. not ... " you really didn't have to. i was really was just trying to help, not make anything out of balance. but. " a bit of weight drops from their shoulders, sinking against the wall. pushes the sleeve of their own jacket up and presents a wrist with palm up. gesture to let him tie it ; mimic birdie asking for his wrist in the first place. though less hurried, lacking serious tone. huffs a breath, " thank you. how's that for this thankless job ? " head tilts to the side for a moment. brief spark of fascination crossing their face. he's a real strange guy. a stray thought, but they're one to talk. still it slips from his mouth, " if i'm a mystery, you're strange. think we're pretty even, kieran. "
" I SPENT YEARS COLLECTING THESE BAD VIBES , IT WOULD BE A SHAME TO WARD THEM ALL OFF . . . "
a lighthearted motion with an even more lighthearted smile , the kind that lifts both corners of his mouth , dimples popping . to birdie's offered wrist , kieran presses a thumb into their pulse , rubs in a few affectionate circles against the rhythm of their beating heart . you really didn't have to . " neither did you . " a reply dripping in matter - of - fact . " but you did and i like it . i'm not in the habit of owing people . maybe this isn't that . less debt and more mutual kindness . " he shakes his head , birdie's wrist still in hand . " see , i got the feeling that you were a good person . i was really just trying to help , not to make anything out of balance . it's nice , being around you and your energy . is it stupid to say i'm a little jealous ? " am i a fool to wonder why you're drawn to me too ? the thought passes with a dark shadow casted upon even darker eyes , black bangs brushed back with the stubborn , singular streak of white falling back into place quicker than a second's past .
he's slowly lifting that finger off of their palm to layer the woven red thread of the bracelet against birdie's skin — skin that he now knows to be soft . shoulder's roll back as he fastens it to their wrist with the slide of thread locking it in place . the puff of laughter is endearing , has him foolishly thinking of hearing it again in heavy lidded bliss . " are you really going to try to tell me that absolutely no friendship went into crafting this for me ? and here i thought your affection was the true protection . " never the fool , he knows how their bracelets differ , the chill of something otherworldly absent from his shoulders . what are you doing ? fingers linger against and even press into birdie's bracelet clad wrist , soon releasing it with the tease of interlocked digits .
the huffed thank you makes his pierced brow raise briefly , intrigued . teeth gently chew into his cheek to stop a smile from revealing all of the cards in his hand . " maybe not so thankless after all . not a job either . " you're strange . it has him blinking as a laugh bubbles out of him , hidden behind the back of his hand . " ha , you think we're pretty even , i just think you're pretty , in general . " don't be a fool . he ignores the nagging voice of his conscience , screaming out from within , telling him to avoid complications . bearhold , too , will be somewhere he'd have to leave in the past , but the blue talisman on his wrist weighs him down , pulls him under the water of a soft boy with ocean eyes . he's throwing caution away only for a moment , but it's still long enough to cause static when his fingers finally leave birdie's .
" you could at least call me eccentric . something to make it sting a little less . " he huffs with pretend outrage , slipping a finger between birdie's wrist and the new addition dangling from it . " that's not very friendly of you . " another release of skin ship that feels too quick . " by the way , you have to keep it on until it falls off . " a shrug . " it's not hexed or anything . it's just bad luck to cut them off . " the distance finds itself between them again as he backs up , breathes out with a stretch of his arms . " plus it's something to remember me by . " smooth off the tongue and accompanied by a wink as the stroll continues . he turns his head to glance over his shoulder , " you're falling behind . need me to hold your hand so you don't get lost ? "
THE EARTH WILL SEE OUR EYES , GO BLANK TONIGHT . THE EARTH WILL ROT AWAY , GO BLANK TONIGHT . I , I REALLY WISH THESE SNAKES WERE YOUR ARMS . I , I REALLY WISH YOU'D MAKE UP YOUR MIND . THE EARTH DISGUISED A WAY , DON'T BLINK TONIGHT . THE EARTH WILL SEE OUR EYES . DON'T BLINK TONIGHT . . . I , I REALLY WISH THESE SNAKES WERE YOUR ARMS . . .
sasha calle , twenty - nine / ninety - six , transmasc , he + they + she 𐫱 › hey , isn’t that salome alvarez ? i’ve heard that they’ve lived in bearhold for three months . rumor has it that they can be rather violent and manipulative , but hey , that’s just in their nature as a vampire . they totally make up for it by being charismatic and confident . if you’re looking for them , you can probably find them hanging out at pandemoniam .
" I REALLY WISH YOU'D MAKE UP YOUR MIND . . . "
BASICS
full name ◦ salome alvarez .
nicknames ◦ lome / lomé ; boss .
date of birth ◦ april 23rd .
zodiac ◦ the world's most evil aries .
age ◦ twenty - nine ( appearance ) ; ninety - six ( actual ) .
gender ◦ transmasc .
pronouns ◦ he + they + she .
sexuality ◦ bisexual .
occupation ◦ art thief , underboss in a vampire brood / criminal organization .
residence ◦ whichever bed he fell asleep in the night prior . he does have a little place , but never brings anyone there .
PHSYICAL APPERANCE
height ◦ 5 ' 7 " / 170 . 18 cm
hair color ◦ black .
eye color ◦ nearly black , but shimmer hazel in the light .
tattoos ◦ none . the scar of fangs in his neck from being turned , he displays them proudly .
KNOWN ABILITIES
EMPATHY ◦ an ability linked to their human life , it's the ability to perceive and interact with the emotions of others . a manipulator in life and death , salome adapted the ability to sense emotions and use them to play someone like a fool . they're mistaken to actually have a mind control ability , but they're actually just playing their character based off of the vibes other people feed them . " do you like my personality ? i made it just for you . "
& high proficiency with the other abilities vampires are known to have .
INTROSPECTION
death / death mention , blood , guns / gun mention , crime / criminal activity tw . your name sake is a princess shown standing in graceful light , the head of her enemy cradled carefully in her arms . it's one of the only early memories that you hold close : the first time you laid eyes on a portrait of salome , you thought of how you wanted to sneak past barriers to swipe finger tips across her painted lips , a secret , just between you two . a love of art was born then , you recall . a need to have that princess sitting in your quarters . there's gaps after that memory , it shifts immediately to your surprise to see that the streets of the united states in the 1930s weren't paved with gold but , instead , were littered with bodies . your beginnings are humble enough , the fantasy of an american dream following you up until you're curling your hands around your first tommy gun . you're just a runner , at first , keeping you hair cut short and your conversations even shorter before you leave when told . you don't remember your parents , if you had siblings , but you remember looking through keyholes for glimpses at the life that had swallowed you whole .
no matter how much you touch , there's just never enough money to satisfy you . walking into a museum with a bag full of cash and walking out with that famous salome tucked under your arm , it what motivates you for a long time . you work hard , it's the key to success , after all , right ? working your way to the top , you believe in it with your whole chest until you're told a secret : if you want to actually taste the success you've created , you need to take what you want and step on people like stones . more gaps then , but you can recall walking into that museum , guns under your suit jacket , and walking out , mask over your face and your precious salome in tow . it gave you a rush , she , propped up in the basement of the hideout that you occupied , you , pressing lips against hers . to quite literally taste your success , a secret , just between you two .
how did it all come apart in the end ? bank , museum , bank — alley , in a pool of your own blood . you're not as immortal as you convince yourself to be . the untouchable is still touchable by silver bullets . a gap . a hand is outstretched to you in that dark place , the promise of second life offered like a gift and you selfishly take it , that vampire's blood smoothing down like medicine and their fangs sinking into your throat like shards of ice . a gap , black takes your vision , then , a gap . . .
how does it all come apart once more ? you make enemies quite easily , terrorizing and leaving behind entire towns that want you dead . laying in a pool of your old blood , the bitterness is familiar , as is the hand stretching out to save you . how has fortune now shined down on you twice ? twice now , you've cheated death . something wants you alive , you rationalize , with a fanged smile . perhaps you darling salome acts as a guardian angel . she'd be awfully lonely without you .
HEADCANONS
he does , in fact , have a place to stay , but he never brings anyone there . it's very nicely decorated with the spoils he keeps for himself , including his most prized possession : the original Salome with John the Baptist's head , by Charles Mellin ( 1597 – 1649 ) .
always wears black and walks with a parasol to shield the sun from their skin . another one of my goth kids .
his love languages are physical touch and quality time . receives love in gifts .
crazy good aim as a marksmen . a collector of classic fire arms .
technologically illiterate . he never even owned so much as a pager and often jingles with the sound of a pocket full of coins for payphone purposes . always pays in and carries cash .
big 1940s gangster vibes with his toothpicks and the silver dollar he's often seen flipping .
character inspirations : kibutsuji muzan from demon slayer , bill from kill bill , nico bellic from grand theft auto 4 , tony montana from scarface , tyler durden from fight club , and tuco salamanca from breaking bad .
who : cassius / @ghos1t .
where : sylus' home / front door .
" EYES , IT SEEMS , AIM TO PAINT ME A FOOL . . . "
spoken solemnly to break an even sadder silence that sits in their shared air . sylus softens his face into something unbothered in the presence of the monster , but his hand tightens around the curve of his door handle , tight enough to almost break and bend — tight , as if to envision cassius' throat there . squeezing , veins protruding with the squeeze and shake . doorbells , a wondrous invention that the demon was fond of . he changed the chime of his several times and welcomed visitors into his abode with wide smiles . there wasn't yet a tune nor chime invented to signal the arrival of a ghost such as he , a vision of cascading curls and sharp eyes . no , sylus felt his presence enter at the edge of the neighborhood , bathed in moonlight , reeking of memory .
" because , i swore i told you to never show your face here . i lifted steel and gunmetal , pointed both between your eyes and warned you — " a courtesy befitting of a repaid debt . cassius has saved sylus' life once , after all . it was with bitter words from an even more bitter tongue that they'd saw fit to do the same , only once , but their patience should not be tested . " and yet — here you are , like a phantom . " like a dream . " and i feel that it must be a trick of tired eye . " i feel . always feeling , always drowning in too much heart and dreamlike expression . cursed to the downfall of his passion's own creation . " not even you are that stubborn . "
dim lights stretch from behind him , the glow of of the castlevania clad television and pause menu music creating a symphony of the night . too intimate , too familiar in its tone . it truly does paint him a fool for cassius . " leave . " huffed through pursed lips . " leave ! " squeezed from a broken heart . " i know better than to invite a vampire into my home . "
↳ the garrison. : koda jackson & open ! ( 0 / 3 cap )
it was a relatively quiet shift behind the bar, a thursday night being a peaceful resolve before the madness of the weekend rush, where everyone's pockets were full from their weekly pay, ready to spend it on lavish food and expensive drinks. koda didn't care for it – he simply kept this job to keep him busy, keep his head afloat and to stop him from doing stupid things, like risking everything to go back home, or simply disappearing for good.
he shook his head to rid his thoughts when he realised he had a customer in front of him, flashing a fake bright smile and leaning against the bar, spinning his bottle opener around his finger. "welcome to the garrison! what's your poison? a cocktail, whiskey?"
" YOU LOOK A LITTLE LOST . . . IN THOUGHT , THAT IS . . . "
the irony isn't lost upon the drifter as he twists his hips on the rotating barstool , smirk worn on his lips . with him , came the chill of otherworldly presence , chrysanthemum scented death worn like a cologne . kieran rests his forearms on the bar , bites down on the toothpick fixed between his teeth as he limply fidgets with his hat and rose - tinted glasses . australian accent heavy on his tongue , he leans in with a curious question . " actual poison not of the table , huh ? i'm out . " a playful shrug . " whiskey is fine . a challenge for you ? i know my way around a whiskey bottle . try to show me something new — and good , of course ? "
ender's gasp rattled throughout the bar , and she plucked the phone from her friend's hand with a hard, warning gaze. “i invited you out tonight because i thought you'd bring an extra level of knowledge to the quiz team, and you're out here googling the answers? oh, babe. i'm hurt.” it was something ender took very seriously, the pursuit of knowledge and the rewards that could be reaped from it. “please tell me you don't have to look up who wrote salome?” she couldn't wait for the end bell to ring so that she could finally dull her headache with a strong drink.
" . . . SALOME , OF COURSE . . . " SPOKEN IN AN INSECURE WHISPER . . .
getting caught red handed , it obviously embarrasses raf , presented by the way it summons heat and red to the tips of his ears . lips settle into a pout and head tilts up in an overly bratty display . would it be so hard to thank her for the invitation ? well , yes ! " i know plenty , including salome ! if you must know , i was texting someone . " he lies , the google page clear as day on his phone screen , and in full brightness too . they notice this too late , the lie already thick in the air .
HE PUSHES THE DUAL DOORS OF HIS GYM OPEN WITH GREAT URGENCY . . .
" attention , my patrons ! i have made a great discovery ! " announcements of this nature are so common that the staff and regulars of the boxing gym greet him with a series of groans . sylus , however , is smiling hard enough to flash a full set of pearly white teeth as he strolls in , gaming handheld in hand . he shakes his head at the absolutely exasperated reaction he's shown , propping his hand on his hip under the floor length coat layered on his shoulders . " you see , that's the problem here . you all have no wonder ! no whimsey ! the world is more than sweating . it's vast ! everyday , something new awaits ! " one unfortunate soul makes the mistake of meeting eyes with him and he wastes absolutely no time strutting over to them . " you there ! adjust your form . chin up , back straight — there , excellent . now , tell me . . . " the excitement practically radiates off of him as he raises the handheld to their eye level . " have you yet to discover these pocket monsters ? or , ' pokemon ' , for short . blast these abbreviations . . . "
THERE'S A SMALL CROWD GATHERED AROUND THE STRENGTH TESTER IN THE ARCADE . . .
the sound of the punching bag hitting the backboard is followed by a mix of gasps and young girls giggling . another punch , more reaction , more people gathering around . he doesn't pay the attention any mind , he is here with two goals in mind : to blow off some steam and make enough tickets to win an obnoxiously large ( and overly expensive ) teddy bear from the prize shop . every punch attempt beats his score from before , his name littering the leaderboard from top to bottom . still , raf isn't satisfied , not even with the ocean of tickets that swallow his feet . " tch , not good enough . " it was never good enough for him , not with his expectations being almost as unnatural as he .
fingers grasp at his zipper , ripping it down and freeing himself from his jacket with a few aggressive shakes of his arms . it drops to the floor , joining his winnings . then , another charged up punch , this time without the weight of a jacket on his shoulders . the scoreboard lights up with his score in red lights . 999 . fuck . story of his life , always a step away from perfection . he's visibly irritated , swiping his palms from his forehead down the length of his face . just then , they swear that they hear a snicker that has them whipping their head around for the source . " what , you think you can do better ? well , by all fucking means ! step the hell up . "
a dangerous opening for what is surely to be a loaded statement . he's looking through the shelves of the ruby moose like a man on a mission , placing various charms , crystals and oddities into the little basket that his ( possibly unwilling ) companion carries as they trail behind him . " i met someone — " almost more dangerous than the first . " someone that spoke of honoring the dead , respecting them , like it was something so obvious , but then i think about what witches do . our whole stick is rooted in feeding our magic into various shit and passing it down . " the rings on his fingers click against a row of glass fixtures and crystal balls as he hums in tune with the chimes , dark pupils pointed to the ceiling .
fingers pawing over the familiar feeling of bone stop him in his tracks , bringing a uncharacteristic brightness to his eyes . a skull , pristine in condition , stares back at him with hallow eyes . turning to the other , he picks it up from the shelf , gently brushing his hand over the top to remove a layer of dust . " what do you think ? " asked softly with eyes still focused on the skull . " if i took your body , made you of use to me when your soul's long since departed . . . " a brief pause to lift the skull up to his face , head tilting to almost meet lips to teeth . " would you feel respected ? would i be honoring you ? " dangerous eyes glance over the skull to look at his shopping mate , then return to the skull , eyes narrowing . " hm , a fake . disappointing . "
there is one thing birdie was definitely not and that's forgetful. in fact, memory was as much of a curse as the visions of memories not yet crossed. therefore ... they know they weren't informed of kieran's waiting presence. they a puzzled expression and lets gaze trace the disappearance of the switch to pocket. " what are you talking about ? you ... definitely did not. " it isn't accusatory. just more confusion. still, birdie did feel the teensiest, tiniest streak of guilt around the idea of making him 'lose'. not enough to apologize, however.
" but, yeah, i'm headed home. " and now they're left with the choice. they could keep walking and leave it at that. i'm headed home. and simply just do that. leave kieran at their post where they'd waited for them. yet, they're not doing that. " and it looks like you're coming along. " admittance of defeat ; agreeing to the plan that definitely wasn't made with birdie. arms cross over their chest and they shift in place for a moment and like a magnetic draw glance down at the bracelet. thread, a sky-ish blue and ironically fitted well around a tattooed wrist. remembers gesturing for kieran's wrist and clasping it there. 'protection. from the candlesticks with a vendetta' they'd said. the little imprinted talisman following every movement. it deafens ( slightly, ever so slightly ) the edge kieran put birdie on. fleeting quirk of a smile.
tight cross of arms release and hands sound a single, decisive clap. " welp ! lets go then. " and that's when their feet start to move in direction of their apartment. kieran, in tow. it's a bit strange, they think, to take a walk home with someone else. been awhile, but they could be overexaggerating. still, birdie never brought someone into the complex's vicinity let alone inside. few friends know where he lives, actually. one thing is for sure, birdie couldn't stand the permeating silence of himself if he has company. snorts at his own train of thought. talk about the irony ! " you seriously ... had nothing better to do ? " it sounds mean - spirited, voiced purely on impulse. " not trying to be a jerk. i'm just ... curious. is all. "
HIS PUPILS MOVE IN A HALF CIRCLE TO POINT UP , NOT IN ATTITUDE , BUT IN THOUGHT . . .
he isn't a person of great reliability , nor should he be trusted with the specifics of an itinerary , not even the one that he thought up , but so obviously failed to voice . heavily lidded eyes angle back down to birdie , then close with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders . they're not forgetful , thus it's removed from the database . " it's not that i don't have nothin' better to do . " raising a hand , he counts off his fingers . " i could be working , you know , making money . or working my other thing , making money . freelancing , for money . . . " the hand drops to his side with a tilt of his head , searching for something in birdie's expression . " walking you home was something a wanted to do instead , so , that makes it the best thing i could be doing . it's a low - paying , and apparently thankless , job . " with his head tilting down , he smirks to himself , keeping up with birdie's pace as the rubber soles of his doc martens scrape against the sidewalk from him dragging his feet .
" really , is it hard to believe that people — that i just want to spend some time with you ? " spoken low and honey - sweet . " you're a mystery — " ironic , and maybe not entirely true . " to me . " slightly better . " you had just met me , saved me from a flying candle stick and thought to make something to protect me . it has me thinking — hey , slow down . " his fingers wrap around the other's wrist to stop them in their tracks . " long day ? you're in such a rush to get home . . . " one step after the other closes the distance , forcing the fortune teller literally and figuratively against a wall . forearm resting above birdie's head , they're close enough for kieran to feel the scent of citrus circle around him . looking down at their lips , he parts his own to finish his thought . " it has me thinking , no one's ever really given me anything before . "
his hand lets go of birdie's wrist to instead lift to press an index finger into the underside of their chin , raising their face . " and i wanted to thank you for that . so i'm walking you home , making sure you get there safe and , if you let me , i'm going to walk you home tomorrow too . . . so , " voice lowers to a whisper . " are still curious . . . or does that about cover it ? " the shadow casted over his eyes by his bangs hints that there's something hidden behind that smirk that he gives as he backs up to let birdie breathe , fishing about in his pocket . a red fishtail bracelet emerges , presented in his open palm with a kinder smile that he also wears in his eyes . " it's only fair , yeah ? since you gave me a friendship bracelet first . i hate to see a one - sided relationship . "
YOU SHOULD KNOW ( BY NOW ) , REALLY . THAT THIS COULD END , REALLY . YOU SHOULD KNOW I COULD NEVER MAKE IT WORK ( WAKE UP ) IT'S PRETEND , REALLY REALLY ( THERE ) . DO YOU LIKE THE WAY THE WATER TASTES ? IT'S LIKE GUNFIRE . YOU KNEW BUT YOU COULD NEVER SAY , THEN COME FORTH . DO YOU LIKE THE WAY THE WATER TASTES ? ( 'CAUSE IT'S COMING 'ROUND ) . 'ROUND ONE MORE . . .
jacob anderson , thirty - six / three hundred and forty eight , non – binary , he + they 𐫱 › hey , isn’t that sylus belmont ? i’ve heard that they’ve lived in bearhold for five years . rumor has it that they can be rather stubborn and sacrificial , but hey , that’s just in their nature as a slayer — demon . they totally make up for it by being heroic and kindhearted . if you’re looking for them , you can probably find them at their work as an owner at punchy business .
" BEWARE ( THE WATER ) . . . "
BASICS
full name ◦ sylus belmont .
nicknames ◦ sy , though he's rather old school and prefers his full name be used . he will correct you .
date of birth ◦ july 30th .
zodiac ◦ the world's most heroic leo .
age ◦ thirty - six ( appearance ) ; three hundred and forty eight ( actual ) .
gender ◦ non - binary .
pronouns ◦ he + they .
sexuality ◦ panromantic , demisexual .
occupation ◦ owner of punchy business .
residence ◦ he lives in a rather impressive estate in a well known hunter community , seated in a cul-de-sac . they also own several other properties .
PHSYICAL APPERANCE
height ◦ 6 ' 0 " / 182.88 cm
hair color ◦ black .
eye color ◦ left eye is dark brown ( red pupil and black sclera when not in glamour ) , right eye is a stone implant .
tattoos ◦ none . he does has various scars including claw marks on his neck that length a few inches up from the underside of his chin .
KNOWN ABILITIES
SUPER STRENGTH AND SPEED ◦ a skilled fighter and slayer , sylus enhances his combat with the lightning fast movement and reflexes that becoming a demon has granted him . a champion boxer that has been practicing the craft since the mid 1680s as a youth , the super strength that they've gained has made their blows more devastating , if not life threatening . he usually pulls his punches with the goal of offering redemption instead of delivering killing blows . even more deadly with a rapier , his weapon of choice , sylus is a skilled sword fighter as well . boxing is an honorable sport , competition is healthy and welcome . sword fighting is a delicate practice , one should offer their opponent to yield once they've obtained the upper hand . despite his strengths , remaining honorable is a priority — monsters , though , have no honor code and don't deserve mercy .
MIND CONTROL RESISTANCE ◦ they have never agreed with those that participate in mind control , believing that free will is one of the most important aspects of humanity . to alter someone's will , it is nothing short of an atrocity . though he does not practice mind control , he has conditioned his own mind to resist the uninvited wandering of anyone attempting to enter .
& proficiency with the other abilities demons are known to have .
INTROSPECTION
death / death mention , blood / gore , torture tw . your past exists as pages of a massive book bookmarked with folded dog ears and haphazardly highlighted . anything that you do remember , you hold close to your chest with newly formed claws — you hold on tight enough to draw blood with your dark talons , less those memory fragments run away from you . everything , eventually , seems to run from you .
fragment one . you're a belmont , the son of a prestigious family of hunters of which you are the sole son , inheriting their legacy . your father tells you that the belmonts are not only one of the oldest family of hunters on earth , but the first ; it fills your young heart with pride as you grow , learning to hold a sword shortly after learning to walk . but. , that's not exactly true , is it ? there's another family that rivals yours , that's been around just as long fighting over who was the first to spill the blood of a monster . this rivalry , you inherit it as well . their son is always a step ahead of you , always out of reach , but it motivates instead of discourages you . you'll catch up to them and move forward , his hand around your wrist as if to pass the baton .
fragment two . have you always been so giving ? not in a generous sense , but overly sacrificial ? you are a being of too much heart , a heart that weeps for those lost in battle — you show mercy by ending those that have been turned to something monstrous with a quick death . a plague ravages the town , the citizens that look to you to cleanse the streets turning into something unimaginable . hunters are killing so much that the bloodlust corrupts their souls . you're conflicted the first time you take the life of another hunter , the bloodlust clawing at the corner of your own peripheral vision . it angers you as take every stolen life personally , an obsession growing in you to spill blood for blood to honor the dead . but , where is your rival ? you look behind you to see no one there . as you pierce into monster after monster with the rapier , their last words engraved in your mind , you wonder if you had finally passed them with realizing . they are the person that you've grown with , the person that knows you the most — why hadn't they bothered to tell you how lonely it was at the front of the line ?
fragment three . your hand trembles as you hold a blade to the monster . always an even - tempered person , your voice has never raised above a clear and middled tone , but now you shout , you demand the monster that stands across from you raise their weapon as well . they are a vision , a ghost of your past , your rival — covered in the blood of a slain innocent . pointed fangs decorate the all too familiar smile that vice grips your heart . battle has never stirred you , never persuaded you to lead with emotion , but you hesitate now when the moment to strike presents itself , blood gushing from the vampire ripping its claws across your throat , you hesitate to strike and they spare you for your mistake even after you’ve accepted death at their hands . you had never surpassed your rival , they had taken an alternate turn , strayed from the path and left you tracking their steps .
fragment four . you watch them sink further into darkness . you don't sink , you plunge in willingly , reaching forward for just a single touch to pull them back to you . your own humanity slips between your fingers before you can clench them into fists around their wrists . always out of reach . . . always .
fragment five . the horns that protrude from your forehead weigh down your head . you've lost count of how many days you've been subjected to torment . what landed you here ? how did the holy blade stray so far from the sun ? or , perhaps you got too close . you remember blood on your hands . who's blood had you spilled ? how many ? you run from limbo to judecca , but you're always found and put through punishment which draws sounds out of you that you didn't know you were capable of . the unrequited love in your heart can only keep you going for so long before it become spite . you've fallen , disgraced . your sobs aren't even for yourself , they're for that rival of yours , cold , alone , bleeding out with only the moon as their witness . was he scared ? you run and run and run . was he scared ? because you've never been so scared in your life .
fragment six . you're only able to take two steps upon entering earth before you fall to your knees to touch the dirt , then you look at your hands , fingers all attached and free of the marks that hell peppered you with . you reach up to touch along the grooves on your neck , it brings a foolish comfort . you've forgotten so much , but he stays with you . you don't need saving from this fate that you've caused yourself , however , he never had a choice . still doesn't ; you're planning to drag their ass back into the sun with you , even if it means holding them as they turn to ash .
fragment seven . the spirit of hunters and slayers is still alive in bearhold . you make it your purpose to train them to not mirror the mistakes of hunters past , but with a watchful eye you study them , praying to a distant god that the bloodlust that curses the will of a slayer doesn't cause you to raise your weapon to your own once again . your alliance is to the creed first as your turn your back to the demons and corrupted hunters . your stubbornness fights back , screaming out that you can save every innocent , even the one you're going to pull back to you , the one that’s not very innocent at all .
with your father's words echoing in your mind , one of your few fragments , you take your duty seriously . save the innocent , preserve the hunter's legacy and when monsters rear their heads , raise you sword . . .
and join the hunt .
HEADCANONS
is so excited to be back on earth , everything is a new discovery . he's always so happy to share the new things that he's found and experienced from the previous day .
their current hyperfixation is video games , primarily single player experiences . he's current fascination is castlevania , wondering if the shared surname between him and the main family is just a coincidence .
his love languages are gifts and words of affirmation .
is the absolute final boss at the gym . they've been boxing for centuries , so he'll pull his punches , but you're still getting your ass beat .
such a dapper dresser ; humble in personality , but he has expensive taste . gold jewelry , luxury watches and always in a three piece suit . not those boring suits that we complain about at the met gala every year , no , the stuff of a designer's dreams .
purchased the gym from the previous owners upon entering town and is using it as a place to train young hunters and slayers during special hours .
