#bborne au

[gauntletsbrambled]

{{Sketching a very ambitious character portrait, I hope to fully line and and color these two because the ship has officially sailed in my heart}} 

[fulgurantfirstborn]

Yellow eyes watched the stormy haired man from the shadows. They had become accustomed to him now, the beasts of Old Yharnam. As accustomed as one could be to something that frightened them anyway. Whenever he wandered through the city’s lower alleyways, the beasts quietly retreated from his presence, some reluctant to do so but always conceding to the hunter once he bared his weapon. To be struck with such a massive blade was a lesson that only had to be taught once.  

Per Djura’s strict instruction, the hunter never aimed to kill with his swordspear. But in his self-defense against the more daring beasts, he would not hesitate to maim if necessary. It was fortunate his blows had rarely come to that. 

Like the remaining Powder Kegs, he also felt pity for the beasts, these former citizens of Yharnam whose own government had abandoned them. Looking at their sickly bodies, the hunter was reminded of his home country, how the ruling sovereigns had been so neglectful to its people that they had been driven to revolution, one led by his father. He grimaced at the memories of war. Change had been brought upon the land, yes, but at the cost of countless lives. Maybe they had been a necessary sacrifice for progress, but such reasoning would not ease his guilt. He had taken too many lives himself. For that reason, amongst others, he had run away from home, run away from family and friends, to live here in the quiet streets of this valley.

[gauntletsbrambled]

@lanternfading answered your question:

After a moment or two, a soft "hm?" could be heard from inside. The sickly man sat up with a stretch and a yawn -- a yawn, which, of course, turned into a fit of coughing, followed by a very tired groan.

"... Well, and wide awake," said the man inside. Rubbing away the gunk in his eyes, he turned his attention to the window, opening it up.

"... Goodness, you didn't have to bring me anything," said Gilbert.

It's been a few years now since he's celebrated any kind of holiday. Holidays don't seem to be a major thing in Yharnam, and most take a certain offense to the festivities from outside.

"... Nevertheless... I... Appreciate that you've given me thought..."

After a few moments, he reached his hand out of the window, presenting his visitor with a key.

"... Make sure you lock the door once you're inside... Alright?"

Bellevance nodded and took the key from the other man’s hand. “That I will.” He worriedly noted how Gilbert’s hand trembled, but decided not to comment on the fact. It would not do to fret over his condition when this was a rare chance for celebration.

When he opened the door to his friend’s abode, he was greeted by a room noticeably less bright than the snowy streets outside. He quickly entered and relocked the door, not wanting any drafts to sneak through, before rubbing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. 

"Right, your cookies!” The bladesmith brought out a parchment bag tied with braided twine, the faintest scent of vanilla and butter now wafting through the small room. He brought both the key and the cookies over to Gilbert’s bedside table before pulling a wooden chair over to sit.

“I hope you mind not my visit. It has been a while since I had last seen you so I thought it best to visit before the season passes.” He sat back to warm his fingers and crack his knuckles, the joints having been stiffened by the cold. 

“That being said... I don’t usually celebrate anything around this time of year, but some of the outsiders coming to the shop have mentioned this winter celebration. I thought you might appreciate a small token of it, of Christmas.”

[fulgurantfirstborn]

@yellowfingcr​ replied to your post:

BEAUTIFUL

@vilestblood​ replied to your post:

sir

“Thank you both so kindly!”

[fulgurantfirstborn]

It begins with an itch.

He brushes it off because it is wintertime, his hands and forearms surely irritated from the dry winds of the season.

But then, his skin begins to crack, to flake off into hardening scales. His hands begin to darken as if affected by frostbite, but he knows, he knows every time he takes off his gauntlets that it cannot be so. 

Djura and the others must not discover what is happening to him. Beast sympathizers or no, they surely will not keep him amongst their ranks when they realize what he is becoming.

The itch has slowly spread across his chest. Every day, he seems to wake up to more of his humanity sloughing off. He is grateful for his scarf, its thick fabric hiding his ever-widening, ever-sharpening mouth.

When he scratches, he bleeds. He almost wants to cry. I must be dreaming, this must be a nightmare, he tells himself. 

The talons on his hands say otherwise. 

[fulgurantfirstborn]

“Are you lost? I rarely see those from above down here in the valley.”

He quirked a brow, and though his heavy scarf hid most of his face, it was not difficult to tell that he was also frowning.

“Whatever business you wanted to have in Old Yharnam, you had better change your mind. There are nothing here but beasts.”

[gauntletsbrambled]

{{Who could escape the nightmares of Yharnam? A thoughtpiece inspired by @derjaegermond's answer to what would be the best ending for their character Helena.

Bellevance stands to be the only one who could successfuly leave Yharnam behind. He is the youngest of my characters in the Bloodborne AU and he is also not a hunter, just a bladesmith. His consumption of the Old Blood is minimal, too, having only used it to quell some of the aches and pains in his sensitive joints.

His youth (his relative youth anyway, he is in his late 20s so he isn't quite so young) is probably what saves him from trying to remain in the city. Meanwhile, Antares and Miriam are in their 50s and 60s in this AU, old enough that they're actually quite conservative and cannot imagine life outside of Yharnam. They will stay and assist with the Hunt until the bitter end. Until either Antares succumbs to a mistake in their hunts, their burgeoning health problems, or beasthood. Until Miriam either loses herself to the cosmos or descends (ascends?) into madness.

Really, I do find it striking and tragic how the aged Bloodborne NPCs we meet appparently accept that they must remain in the city and must help (or not help in some cases) with the hunt. Eileen solemnly carries out her duty in killing blooddrunk hunters. Djura viligantly stands guard over the beast patients of Old Yharnam. What is the point when the city is clearly doomed? Those two will not live forever after all.

I suppose this speaks to the power of the Healing Church's propaganda, given the attitudes of younger characters like Alfred and Adeline. They are devoted to their duties, overzealous even.

Bellevance, being a Yharnam native himself, is not immune to the influence of the Church. If he were an NPC the Good Hunter could interact with, I think his questline could involve him realizing just how twisted the city is and how quickly it is spiraling towards its destruction. Of course, the idea of leaving everyone and everything he has known terrifies and saddens Bellevance. But he must escape. There is surely a world beyond the mountains around Yharnam, beyond the nightmare.}}

[fulgurantfirstborn]

{{I decided to look over a BB Gwynfor from 3 years ago. Can you believe Bloodborne’s 6th anniversary is just a month away?}}