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castlevania verse sesshoumaru? werewolf? or... vampire? werewolf sounds so nice but like... i haven’t played all the games to see if werewolves are... a thing. but i would like to dabble in this with someone who’s well-versed with the series. i’m mostly more knowledgeable with the show but not too familiar with the games.

#i do like the idea of a vampire sesshoumaru #but i know werewolf is more fitting for him B)#( 𝙰 𝙳𝚄𝚃𝚈 𝚃𝙾 𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙻. ) / * ooc .#tbd.#castlevania verse.

adam stood, his eyes reflecting the dim flicker of candlelight, robes slightly singed from the battle just outside, his hand mantled against the graying wallpaper of the cabin they took shelter in from the deceased corpses outside. he regards the belmont heir in silence for a moment before speaking, his voice a calm rumble, laced with something ancient. ❝ a black sheep, is it? ❞ his fingers traced over the enchanted sigils he had woven in the air just moments before, dispelling the remnants of dark magic. ❝ you carry the burden of your name like a mantle of sorrow. @inmemcrum … that’s not something i would ever imagine being heard in stead of a cowardly sheep. as much as you want your name to fade, deeds remain. ❞ he extended a hand towards, a quiet gesture of camaraderie. ❝ and tonight, your deeds stand against the darkness. i was only fortunate enough to happen in the hands of skill. ❞

adam fumbles wide hands against crimson garbs, a cloak, heavy with rain, clung stubbornly to his broad shoulders, the enchanted fabric sluggish in surrendering its damp grasp. he exhaled sharply, irritation flickering across his pale gaze as he shed the garment, letting it fall unceremoniously to the wooden floor, where it pooled in a dark, sodden heap. cabin walls trembled slightly with each gust of wind battering the structure outside, the storm relentless in its pursuit. his aureate ashen skin, eerily pale beneath flickering firelight, bore remnants of the battle fought mere hours prior — thin rivulets of crimson energy pulsed faintly beneath the surface, shifting along the contours of his arms like a living curse, refusing to be fully silenced. he dragged a hand across his forearm, smearing away lingering dampness, only to find the sensation of cold still lingering, biting into his skin like unseen specters. ❝ but you aren’t wrong … we are sheep in this trap. the blood will only attract more attention if we aren’t careful. ❞