sleepytimejunction | ❧ oh but you taste exquisite

❧ oh but you taste exquisite

[The Adrestian Empire's victory seems to be looming on the horizon. There will still be losses on both sides inevitably, but the tide of the war appears to be obvious to most. Yet, there is that lingering concern of whoever is slaughtering their troops out in Faerghus. Not simply killing, but maiming out of pleasure, leaving a bloodstained battlefield.

And so it is that the latest small army is investigating out by House Rowe's territory from the latest encounter.

This time, they arrive with a man in tow, a thick metal collar around his throat and arms bound in chains. He's led along as if he were an animal to be paraded around.

C'mon. Sniff him out.

A deep, beastly growl escapes the man, but he tips his chin up, sniffing the air.]

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...?

[What? The man in their midst — the one in chains, he sees now, in the split-second before the metal tears in two — is rebelling against the soldiers? Is slaughtering them with a violence that leaves Dimitri breathless, leaves hot discomfort stirring up from the inside. He only barely thinks to divert his own trajectory, chasing around the perimeter of the gaggle to buy himself a few more seconds to watch, and his eye widens as the man sinks teeth into the fresh-dead corpse's flesh and makes his throat bulge as he drinks.

He ought to be too far away to hear a sigh. Maybe it's just that he feels it. He hasn't felt like this, electrified and manic, since his own slaughter in the Holy Tomb, and it feels...

It feels...]

How lovely, to see this glade run red!

[With a snarl, he hefts his lance and throws it with enough force to pierce through another man, sending the speared corpse hurtling back until it hangs, impaled, by the spear embedded in the ground. Then it's off, as fast as he can, to pursue another; he'll kill them with his bare hands, and listen to the music of their bones breaking.]

[The prince is quite a beastly in the way he fights, he notices. How gleeful he is to bathe the area in red. When was the last time he was a free man? He truly cannot recall, but now he can tear them all apart with a fellow monster.

And so it is, two men ripping apart their foes on the battlefield. For him, he takes one soldier's sword and impales another on it with such force that the sword nearly shatters. Another, he claws out the eyes before impaling his hand into the chest to maim the heart and kill the man.

For a moment he stands there, licking his fingers. How horrendous it is to revel in the slaughter of men, but he has no mercy for them either.

Soon enough, his golden hair is stained by red. He almost can't have enough.]

[Soon enough, they're the only two monsters left standing in the glade, and what a sight they make — both blond, both bloodstained, both eerily delighted by the slaughter surrounding them. There are only two left of them now, and Dimitri can't help but wonder how long it will take them, standing there facing each other, to decide to whittle it down to one.]

Monster.

[He says it almost congenially, one little lord extending courtesies to another.]

It seems the time has come for one of us to die.

Is that what you truly desire, savage prince?

[He drags his tongue over his fingers as he approaches the other man.]

We've done one another a favor. Unless you're so eager to join the men you've slaughtered today.

But I feel that you have much more killing to do before you're ready to leave this world.

[The Death Knight had been touched with a particular brand of insanity, hadn't he? Perhaps beneath his armor, he might have looked like this. Bloodstained. Feral. Sauntering from the delight of his kill.]

Truly, you must be mad. A favor? I would have killed those men whether you partook of the slaughter or not.

[He smiles faintly, his expression challenging.]

They had you in chains. Those soldiers knew not to trust you, so why should I?

I permitted them to walk into your trap. If I wanted to keep them alive, I'd have advised them. However, that would have been no benefit to me.

[He gestures to their aftermath as his boots step in blood, squashing into the mud.]

Do not trust me, then. Trust that I wish to kill the Imperial Army as you do. They, and their associates most of all.

Mm. And who are you, that you loathe the Empire so?

[Not a fallen lord, surely. He would remember a noble this beautiful, even if his visage is obscured by streaks and spattering of blood.

...Or perhaps "obscured" isn't the right word, after all. Even the blood does nothing to taint his beauty; if anything, it enhances it.]

For what vengeance would you see them all die?

Adrian Fahrenheight Ţepeş. I do not expect you know my name.

[Truthfully, if Dimitri recognized it, he would be surprised.]

I suffered at the hands of the Empire's allies for years before they so graciously gifted me to the Empire to be used at their disposal. I would see the Emperor and all she calls friend fall. Let their blood satiate me, and meat rot in the streets of Enbarr.

Used to hunt me. They had you scenting the air like a dog.

[And now they are torn apart, dogmeat themselves, fit only to nourish the flies.]

I too seek vengeance for suffering, on behalf of those who cannot seek it for themselves. Mine will end only when I take the woman's head from her shoulders.

[His head tilts a little to the side, regarding Adrian Fahrenheit Ţepeş with a single critical eye.]

Who are these allies you speak of? Tell me more.

Then we've the same goal, as I expected. Especially considering how lovingly you destroy your enemies.

[It's said without any judgment. After all, Adrian had quite enjoyed how unmerciful they both were. It should horrify him, he thinks numbly. It should disgust him. Instead, it is a delight.]

The Emperor's vassal calls them Those Who Slither in the Dark. A ridiculous mouthful for the truth of them, but nonetheless a fair description. You've encountered a handful of them, from my understanding. The one who pretended to be the monastery's librarian, for example.

...The one who murdered Jeralt...

[In a moment like this, a mood like this, perhaps it's no surprise where his thoughts go. How he aches for Byleth, sometimes. How it tortured him, to bear witness to her grief and have no reparations to offer.]

How did they come to possess you, pretty beast? Were you taken captive?

So that I have heard, yes.

[News travels into hallways, those who plotted and found themselves eager to rule again.]

Yes. When the plague ravaged Faerghus years ago... my mother was determined to help others. Unfortunately, this also caused my capture. Is that enough for you to know?

But the plague in Faerghus was more than —

[...That long? That long, this creature suffered. That long, he has waited.

Duscur still lived while Adrian Fahrenheit Ţepeş was tallying sins to avenge.]

...I see. Very well, then. You hate the Empire as I do; then you are welcome to aid me in crushing it.

I know.

[He would rather not think too hard on it at the moment. He has years enough to recall, to dwell upon. To enrage him.]

Then let us tear down our enemies to the last. I will have more than I can possibly drink from their people.

Two questions more.

[He raises a hand, palm forward, his bloodstained fingers raised. Halting their progress, for just one more moment.]

Tell me of this craving for blood. And tell me how you were able to follow me with such precision.

[There's a pause as Adrian stares at the blood. It's drying now, all sticky, but nonetheless his gaze is drawn to it.

The request for information makes him scowl, but he decides to not deny Dimitri. After all, this is the closest he has to freedom in years. He won't risk it.]

I can eat food, but it does not nourish me. The effects of the experiments caused... changes in me. Needing blood to survive is one of them. As a result, I could smell blood. And your crest is one I know extremely well.

I see. Then you must have a constant supply of slaughter to survive. Taking other lives to prolong your own.

[He smiles, faintly. It doesn't reach his eyes.]

An infestation of rats plagues the old monastery at Garreg Mach. Shall we go kill them?

Killing is not necessary. But it is preferable.

[Adrian tilts his head curiously at the proposal, but he cannot stop a smile from forming himself.]

I will help you.

That monastery is mine, yet they never learn. As one might expect of vermin.

[He kicks at one of the fallen bodies for good measure; the force of the blow, seemingly effortless from the appearance of his swing, is enough to cave the corpse's head in as it rolls away from underfoot.

Unperturbed, Dimitri goes to retrieve his lance, stepping on the impaled man's chest to lever the weapon out before heading back toward the entrance to the glade.]

Come. We shall take their horses, if they had any.

[A callous action, yet he finds his heart unmoved. When was it that he allowed himself to be comfortable with gore and cruelty? Sometime ago, surely, when he was trapped in darkness and pain.

Adrian has nothing to retrieve for himself, and instead watching Dimitri. There's unquestionable strength and power in each move, uncaring, unshackled. Not unlike Adrian himself.]

It may be unnecessary, now that I'm plenty full.

[Dimitri would not know of what he speaks, which is fine. Though it's hardly something he could see himself offering too many times in the future, he lets it be so here; having the prince's aid in fighting the Empire is necessary and keeping him placated would be useful.

So Adrian takes in a breath, then growls as he transforms. A wolf not unlike the other beasts that roam the country, but its coat purely white and Adrian's golden eyes.

He looks at Dimitri expectantly.]

[A lesser man, perhaps, would've taken a step backwards at the sudden sight of a bloodstained man transforming into a massive beast. Perhaps he would've, too, five years ago, when such things were still new and astonishing to him. Now, he only remains still and scrutinizing, eyes narrowed and fingers tight around his lance as the great white wolf appears before him.

He's seen men take on the shape of beasts, before. One even stands out strongly in his mind — the creature that the cardinal Aelfric became out of fervent desire to see the dead risen again. The Umbral Beast had even remembered the woman's name, in its shrieks and howls. What will Adrian remember, he wonders, as he finally lifts his gaze enough to stare directly into those waiting golden eyes?]

If you still have your wits about you, paw the ground three times.

[He's never heard of a demonic beast that kept the full capacity of its reason, but if this Adrian is an exception, then the sheer potential at his disposal is...astonishing.]

You invite me to ride, is that it? A Blaiddyd upon a great wolf — fitting.

[There's a snort from Adrian, but he understands the hesitance. This was just one of many years of experimentation, to see if they could have beasts of a sound mind under their control. A giant wolf is not quite a monster made out of crest stones and weapons, but it was the start of many things.

He paws at the ground three times, as asked. Then he tilts his head, as if to tell Dimitri to make up his mind.]

...Very well.

[So be it, then. Whether his death comes now, or later — no, he'll choose to believe in this strange creature's thirst for vengeance, and place faith in the notion that it matches his own.

He strides over, strapping his lance to his back to give him free use of both of his hands, and hesitates only a second over the prospect of mounting up onto a wolf's back before making the attempt in the same fashion he would a horse. It's slightly less practiced and less elegant, perhaps, but such things don't matter much to him, especially not anymore.

There's ample fur to hold on to, close to the back of the wolf's neck. He sinks his gauntlets in, finding purchase, and nods.]

Magnificent.

[It is not something he would grant easily, but he is determined to gain a bit more of this prince's trust. Even if it is only a fraction, then all the easier for them to cooperate and rip apart the Empire together. Once he is certain that Dimitri is on his back and steady, he takes off.

His paws pound against the ground with strength, and he leaps into the air to gain distance every now and again. Memories of the monastery are distant from his boyhood, but he still knows where to go.

It is, after all, the center of everything.]

So swift —

[It's astonishing, how fast this creature can move; he covers more ground than even a pegasus or wyvern could, it seems. What impossible strength, what speed, what murderous skill — how did the Empire ever manage to keep such a beast in captivity for so long, he wonders?

And he has time to wonder, with the trip to Garreg Mach being as distant as it is. Time enough to recall the unfolding of the events in the glade, in light of what Adrian had told him after. They'd had him in chains, and he'd chosen not to betray Dimitri's trap to them — but he hadn't started killing himself until the first man had died. On its face, that could simply have been a tactical decision, but in light of the blood...

They must have starved him of it, to keep him weak. Tasting it again is what has given him his strength and abilities back.

Dimitri wrinkles his nose, put off by the ugly recognition. Rumors of blood experiments have floated around the Kingdom for years upon years — Ashe would sometimes recollect some rather fantastical ones centered around Yharnam, if one plied him properly back in the old days — but to have real proof of it before him is something else entirely.]

Seeing you this way, I almost find it hard to believe you need my assistance in toppling the Empire. What aid can I possibly lend, next to powers the likes of yours?

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