Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, which belongs to IS(IS), Bloodborne, which belongs to From Software, and RWBY, which belongs to Roosterteeth(and dear Monty, may the Lord bless his good soul). I do, however, fully own the several OCs mentioned here, except Chase. He's a weird case.
Also, Chase is a really… chase-te person. Hehe. *shot for bad pun* Yeah, he's super uncomfortable with premarital sex. Try and keep that in mind.
Note: This takes place in a (probably poorly-made by a kid still in high school) Bloodborne x Fire Emblem x RWBY universe that I will definitely not write and definitely not publish and post on this site. *hides The Old Hunstmen*
Short version of the background if you don't mind spoilers/don't wanna wait five years:
Chase completes Yharnam Sunrise ending despite having consumed three Third Umbilical Cords, sticks around to see to the end of the Scourge Plague for ten years, then suddenly gets transported to the world of FE: Fates a la Amygdala Airlines™, stays for a year and befriends Corrin and his twin sister, Airene (both of which are Improved Cornflakes™)(along with some less significant people), and eventually becomes their retainer (kinda), but the collapse of the world of Fates because a human-turned-Great-Old-One appeared and wants to eat everything kinda forces them to use the previously-thought-to-be-broken Dragon's Gate, but get separated in Remnant. Chase wakes up in Raichi's kitchen all confused, and more confusion commences until clarification happens. He then takes up the name "Carmine Krev" to fit in. Soon, he fell in love with Hydron, Beacon's main librarian, after getting employed by Ozpin to be an assistant teacher while simultaneously trying to find Corrin and Airene and find out wtf is up with a weird strain of the beast blood being traded around in the-once-greatest-criminal-empire-in-the-world that he helped take down with a bunch of first-years from Shade Academy.
Aka, Chase does things while still having PTSD over the Hunt, and the only people in Remnant who know the full story are Ozpin, Boyfriend, Raichi, and me. And you, to an extent. And the Improved Cornflakes™ count, right? (Along with those currently-insignificant people.)
"Little one, are you sure that you will be safe?"
"Yes, Mister Hunter! Papa taught me a shortcut to the church, so I'll be fine!"
Chase sighed and readjusted his cap, unsure how to go forward. The girl's cheerful voice matched nothing on this earth: light, beautiful, and so hopefully strewn with life.
"Please, at least let me accompany you-"
"Nonononono, you need to work! You're a Hunter, just like Papa, and he's always very busy, and you must be busy too!" He winced at the mention of her dead father and stepped back a bit, clutching fearfully at the red jewel in his pocket with his left hand. "I'll be safe, I promise."
'she'll break that promise, foolish one.'
He looked behind him, and no longer was he in strangely warm streets, but in the cold, dank sewers all over again, the groans of not-quite-dead corpses at his back, the huff and grunts of a gargantuan, grinning swine dripping with blood and gore and filth, shreds of a pretty white dress between his teeth, with too many eyes that glowed blue in the dank darkness. It fell over and exploded in a plume of blood, into mist, nothing but a bloodied, once-beautiful white cloth floating in the shallow mixture of grime and water.
'you killed her.'
'you killed her.'
'you killed her.'
'you killed her.'
'you killed her.'
'you killed her.'
'you killed her.'
'you killed her.'
'you killed her.'
'you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her.'
A hand runs through his hair, gently untangling the knots, a gentle combing through every strand, preening away the sweat and fear.
'you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her.'
"Sh… Sh…"
'you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her.'
Fingers trace through every sickening, bulbous line, every stretched dip in the skin, testament to the hundreds of deaths he braved and the many more wounds he suffered.
'you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her.'
"You're fine here. You're safe."
'you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her. you killed her.'
A body over his own, the scent of a hot meal and the feeling of a warm family, of warm love.
'you killed—'
"Wake up, love."
He opened his eyes again, and the face of the love of his life is the very first thing he sees. He blinks, and quietly startles from his jarring nightmare.
"You fell asleep while grading tests, Carmine. I moved them out of the way so it'd be a bit better for you." A blanket was also draped over him during his slumber, it seems.
He looks around, taking note of his bearings again. Beams of sunlight from the morning sun shines from the windows, casting itself onto the couch he is sitting on. A small body, a child, a little girl with deep purple-blue hair that could not be any older than the tiny age of four sleeps on his lap, dressed and ready for daycare.
"Viola got tired too," the girl's father, a kind man named Hydron, chuckles softly, and kisses the former Hunter on the cheek. A light, pink blush rose onto his blemished skin.
"I'll wake her up." A delectable smell wafts through the living room, sweet like syrup and salty like freshly-cooked meat.
He must have made a face, because Hydron immediately says something about the scent of the meat. "Oh, the bacon's for me, don't worry. Would you like sunny-side up eggs?" he asks as he slowly travels back to the kitchen. "You're more than welcome to join me too," he adds as well along with a wink. It causes a smile to form on his own lips.
"Of course." Carmine looks over at the coffee table across from him; his scroll and a laptop are both laid carefully on it, as well as a cheap notebook and some pens. If memory serves right, the blue one should be almost out of ink. His sight shifts to the child, who, one day, he will be fortunate enough to call his own daughter, and he grins, ruffling her hair and helping her sit up straight as she yawns and cracks open her tiny eyes. "Time to wake up, little one," he quietly tells her.
"Mm-hm," she hums and peels herself off of her dad's boyfriend and jumps down to the floor. "Morning, Mr. Carmine~ Daddy was waiting for you," she says rather obviously with a sweet, content smile on her adorable face.
"I'm well aware. Let's not make him wait any longer for us, shall we?" Carmine picks her up quite easily, and continues to hold her as he quickly limps to the kitchen, the origins of the sounds of oil sizzling in frying pans and the cracking of eggs, and the feeling of soft, comforting love in the air.
Setting Viola down on a chair, he quickly joins Hydron at the stove, cracking more eggs and whipping up a quick batch of pancakes for everyone to enjoy. Homemade syrup is set aside, ready to pour in the bottle and be served.
The little girl notices the new flower on the table: indigo, like her and her daddy's hair, drooping just a bit. It's lovely, as always. Mr. Carmine must have brought it in last night! She leans over and takes a huge whiff of the fresh bloom, grinning all the while. She then looks up at them; a sight to behold. The shorter man, in his late twenties, hums a tune as he, at times, whirls a pair of chopsticks around, at times replacing it with a spatula. His hair is neatly combed back, ready for a day at work. The same couldn't be said for the taller man's hair, who seems to be in a need for a quick trim (at least he didn't have a stubble, which itches her too much when he kisses her night-night like how Daddy does), tousled from his night's sleep on the couch. It's just as messy as his slightly wrinkled clothes, but no one minds, just like how no one minds the terrifying scars across his face, across his neck, across his entire body, which he likes to hide under unreasonable layers of clothing.
"Aren't you late for work?" Hydron asks with an edge of urgency, although his slow, lethargic actions contradict his tone.
Carmine only laughs and shakes his head. "Miss Goodwitch and Ozpin both agreed to let me rest a bit because of my night terrors, in return for grading the former's written exams. It may be a bit slow and monotonous, but the repetitive behavior is rather soothing," he explains as he pours the batter onto another frying pan. He flips the soon-to-be pancake on its side once the top is a golden-brown masterpiece.
"English, please," he teases and bumps into him playfully, nearly jeopardizing the beautiful eggs, bacon (for himself), grits (for Carmine), and a few bagels (for his itty-bitty adorable baby girl), with multiple slices of toast that everyone could soon share.
"Daddyyyyyyyyyy, you're gonna mess up the food!" she whines from the table.
They all laugh together.
Later, as they walk together to preschool, Chase asks Viola, "So, today is your second to last day of daycare, isn't it?"
"Yup!"
"Are you excited for your summer holiday?"
"Yeah! And I can play with you and Daddy everyday, and it'll be my birthday in July! Will you come to my birthday party, Mr. Carmine?" she asks him with the most tearful puppy-eyes she can muster, like she needs them anyways.
The older man laughs and pets her head. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world." He turns to Hydron and quickly suggests, "Do you think she would like me to invite the Ravenpelt family along with me?"
"No one'd mind," he whispers back, then places each of his hands on their backs and push them along a bit. "Now, come on; she's got school, and we've got work, and you still need to dress properly!"
The hallways of Beacon Academy are very quiet, save for the quiet, uneven shuffling of Carmine's boots across the floor. Exam weeks always made the entire campus feel heavier.
"Mr. Krev, do you have some time?" A familiar voice calls out softly to him, stopping him in his tracks. He pivots to face the speaker, Ozpin, who sports a lopsided smile at him.
"Ah…" He looks down at list of scores in his arms with his cane hanging precariously in his hand. "Give me a few moments to give these to Miss Glynda, and I can join you, please."
He does just that, in a matter of moments, they make their way to his office, high up on the clocktower. Those large, imposing structures bring not the best of memories to Carmine, so he avoids them when he can, but alas, it's one of the very few private places in the entire academy.
"Is this about—"
"Yes, it is," he cuts off the assistant teacher before he hardly begins his inquiry. "We have yet to find a match of those two in both Atlas and Vale."
"Ah." A frown blossoms, and Carmine glares down darkly.
Ozpin looks over at his worried friend and sighs with a small smile, clasping a hand on his shoulder. "I know your last mission to Mistral has put troubling concerns in your head, but don't be so quick to lose hope." They near the elevator, and with the press of a few buttons and a step inside, the claustrophobic steel box transports them to the professor's clockwork office.
He offers a cup of tea and a seat across from him, both which Carmine graciously accepts after he leans his cane on the glass desk. He taps his finger across the table, a scroll already inserted in, and the image of two young adults appear: both have piercing red eyes and pale skin, with a thin figure and small, pointed ears. The girl has long, blue hair, blue like a clear river, held back by a headband with an adornment of a white rose. The boy has messy medium-length hair, white like snow, swept back to let it stick out wherever it may. Their images are computer-generated, as the only person who knows how they truly look like is the man currently looking for them.
"You miss them, don't you?" he asks Carmine.
His lips purse behind the cup, but say nothing.
Feeling that it is a sore subject still, for him, he lays the inquiry aside. "Ironwood has yet to find any more labs that are like the one you investigated around half a year ago, both state-owned and otherwise. The private labs we do know of and he keeps tabs on aren't related to this and are all clear of suspicions, despite thorough investigation."
"I see…"
"I would not be surprised if they're based in Mistral; they're notorious for their hidden criminal activity, something that you've personally witnessed when you shut down Xueshi Zhu's empire."
Carmine sighs and sets down the cup of tea. "I received a parcel from her daughter a few days ago." He pulls out a vial of some macabre dark-red liquid, darker than blood but redder than tar, and hands it over to Ozpin. "She managed to get a sampling of her blood. I already took a quick smell of it: it's as if man, god, Grimm, and dragons came together as one horrendous creature," he reports with a disgusted grimace. "She also gave me several documents pertaining to the failed human experiments, adding to my large file of many. As you know, they often traded faunus slaves, usually older boys under twenty years, in return for such samplings of blood, although I cannot seem to ascertain its origins. I told her and her team to set the rest aflame."
Ozpin strains a smile to his friend. Dark, concerned lines, ran through his friend's brow. "You've worked quite hard on this, haven't you? With this and teaching on your shoulders, you should really take the time during the summer and appreciate that opportunity to rest," he softly says.
"I just… it's just…" He trails off, unsure what to say. "My reality was just… I'm worried. I'm, honestly, very worried for them. They are grown-up individuals, and theoretically, they should be just fine in taking care of themselves, even while I'm searching for them," he starts. His breathing is hard and ragged, his hoarse soft voice growing louder and louder.
"Don't you mean 'we', Chase?"
The one addressed looks up at the addressee, the usage of his true name startling him. A warm, comfortable smile is what greets his hyperventilated look.
"You aren't alone in this. Those students at Haven Academy, Team ABYS, they're doing what they can to help you, and so am I. And every night, when you retire back to your home, is there not your, ah, boyfriend to greet and sooth you?" he points out with a hand spread out into the open.
He blushes. "Can you not address him as such? It's quite a mortifying word."
"Would you prefer to call him a partner, then? Lover? Special friend? Significant other?" Ozpin grins cheekily at the man opposite from his as his face turns a pretty pink from all the friendly teasing.
"He has a name," Carmine groans aloud, leaning back and smacking at hand over his eyes in embarrassment. "I plead you, do not tease me," he adds.
The headmaster chuckles in response to his friend's reaction, the coffee in his mug swirling a bit as it sways to his quivering laughter. "As I said, Mr. Shimizu is there to support you, and so am I, Glynda, Mrs. Ravenpelt… don't lose hope just yet," he assures with a bright smile that Carmine doesn't see.
He peeks just through his gloved fingers and sets his eyes upon the green-tinged clockwork ceiling, and gives a smile of his own.
"Also, why do you still insist on wearing those layers of clothing? It's nearly summer!"
They laugh and converse a bit more small talk as the hours tick by on the massive clocktower they're in, not as an assistant teacher and headmaster, but as friends.
As the school day begins to close, Ozpin stops him with a short 'ahem', and Carmine turns around with a quizzical expression.
"About the favor I asked of you…" the headmaster first starts, then his voice fades off as the other nods his head.
"I shall keep an eye out." He walks to the elevator and pushes for the button to go down. "Oh, and… thank you. I needed that."
"Ha! Ugnaugh!" Cries of laboring effort rings through the backyard of a suburban home as a girl no older than sixteen continues training with her club (although, truth be told, it's a rather strange-looking club, and huge for such a small body too). She swings it violently at a target, strafing side to side in mock combat as her teacher, Carmine, stands to the side and uncaps a freezing-cold water bottle and drinks from it. A cool wave of refreshment rolls over him and he sighs in content.
"Magnolia, take heed to let the momentum guide your attacks; otherwise you'll strain your muscles past the point of usability," he chides at her lightly.
"Carmine, I've been lugging this around for a long time now; you'd think I'd known how to not crumble under Kirin's weight," she grumbles in between breaths. Unfortunately for her, her tutor is able to hear every word.
"You can't catch a slug with those sorts of swings. I remember a duel against a student who essentially used a slab of stone, or more like a small boulder, stuck to a sword as a weapon, and I thought my body would be crushed as flat as a piece of parchment by the end of the day. Meanwhile, you still can't even touch me," Carmine states back with a small smirk. The words from his soft voice can't be made out clearly over all the ruckus that his student is making in her training, but the tone is evident enough of what he wanted to say.
Magnolia stops and wipes the sweat from her forehead, and she runs her fingers through her white-dyed hair in an attempt to put it back into a more neat and presentable position. "Look, I'm an amazing marksman, taught by the best, and one swing of my baby here is probably enough to send a Goliath flying. Yeah, I get why I need to practice my close-combat crap-"
"LANGUAGE!" Her mother's voice yells out from within the house.
The teen rolls her dark-pink eyes, but readjusts her vocabulary (more for the sake of the youngest resident in her family than anything else, really) accordingly. "- stuff. Things. I mean, yeah, I get it, but I'll probably spend most of my battling time in the background, just kinda launching my dust spear-arrows and stuff and rain down he- uh, the opposite of heaven. From above. Yeah." Despite her childish attitude from before, she stares warily at her mother to make sure that she didn't hear her almost curse, who is now leaning at the doorpost and watching her daughter do… whatever it was she was doing. With a sly smile. Was she still training now, or was it break time?
A cold water bottle thrust into her hands told her that she was, at the very least, taking a break right now. "It's still crucial, nonetheless of whatever position you'll end up playing the part at when you meet your new team in Beacon Academy," her tutor states, taking another sip out from his own. "It's to retain your physical prowess so that you can use that greatbow to its greatest capability, especially with your smaller body, and gives you an alternative weapon to fight with adeptly in the case that you run out of dust reserves, even if it passes as a rather odd-looking club," he instructs with a sideways smile and crinkling eyes, made lopsided with the scars that ran across his face and likely continue down his figure.
She sticks her tongue out in a juvenile manner in retaliation.
"I'm just stating the facts." Carmine shrugs and turns towards her mother as she gives her daughter an upturned eyebrow for being a tad too rude to her teacher. "Oh, and we're done for today. Please do practice a bit more with your swings. You have a classmate…"
Magnolia heaves out a loud groan of relief and plops down onto the ground right where she stood, never mind dirtying her clothes with grass stains. "Yeah, yeah. Yang's always more than happy to get in a spar, although Ruby told me that she beat up some dudes at a bar once?"
"Seriously?!" The dark head of an seven-year-old pops out of the doorway, and their mother makes way for him as Magnolia's younger brother bounds towards her older sister. "Whoooaaaa, what happened?"
The two siblings chat in the backyard as their mother laughs and grins at her daughter's tutor. "Thanks again for coming over to teach her. I may be a great archer, but she really does have her father's strength, something that I was never very good at helping her refine," she admits sheepishly.
Carmine gulps down the last of his ice-cold water and politely sets the empty bottle aside on a table as they head deeper into her house. "You provided hospitality to me when I… ah… first 'arrived' here, so it's only natural that I aid you in return, Mrs. Ravenpelt."
His reasoning sends the woman into laughter that slowly bubbles down into giggles. "Oh, your old time charm is quite a thing to witness! Why do you always insist to go on a last-name bases with me instead of addressing me by name as-is? You don't do the same with Magnolia and Jet."
"'Tis only courtesy," Carmine responds with a smile of his own. "But if you wish, Raichi." He purses his lips and frowns a bit. "Raichi," he repeats more softly this time. "It still sounds strange to the tongue. Then again, all foreign names do."
"Does your boyfriend's last name count as well?" She grins cheekily as Carmine flushes and turns away, mumbling something about mortifying addresses.
"Why do you and Ozpin insist on doing this to me?" he groans aloud, and covers his face with the handkerchief that always lies on his neck elsewise, with his hands quickly hiding his already hidden expression as well.
Raichi laughs and slaps his back. "You're always fun to tease, Carmine. It's almost too easy, with how you react."
He responds with a huff of disapproval even as the corners of his mouth turn up, and he leaves the homely, welcoming establishment that is the Ravenpelts' home. He spares another look back at the idealistic sight: brother and sister lying on the green grass of their backyard, chatting up all sorts of nonsense, mother looking lovingly at them, the afternoon blessing this household with the all the warmth the world has to offer.
He can always collect the pay another day.
Sometimes, Hydron would wake up to the sound of vomiting and sobbing in the restroom. Other times, it'd be the rustling in the sheets or the muffled whines that would stir him first.
And so, he would wake and walk over to the toilet to gently pat on his love's back as tears and bile mingle in the resulting filth, or hold him close and rock him and sing a lullaby, and after it has all ended would he wind up that old eccentric music box and watch him as the calming yet unnerving music slowly lull him to sleep. (Eventually, he, too, found a small comfort in the music; when Carmine was at peace, then so was he.)
He could even tell what days he might have nightmares again, such as today when he spies Carmine's fingers trembling, long and thin and shivering in unbidden fear, stumbling through the washing of the dishes after another delicious home-cooked supper. He smiles softly and walks over to him, his slightly smaller hand over his calloused, scarred one.
"Let me. Go ahead and rest."
He looks up at Hydron, soft chocolate eyes meeting bright blue ones. They are melancholic again, making the shorter man smile again for the sake of him.
Carmine sets down the dishes and sponge and looks gratefully at him, and retreats to the living room, most likely to play with his daughter. Her giggling proves his guess.
The soap suds did away with the grime of the plates and bowls and saucers as he listens to Viola's loud, cheerful voice and Carmine's much softer, happy voice.
He wishes that his love can remain as such forever: eyes crinkling as he laughs, lips upturned in a gentle smile, hands animated as he regales people with otherworldly stories, the deep expanse of pink on his cheeks when embarrassed, eyes that hold so much of everything in the world-
Sometimes, he chokes up when he feels the intense rush of emotions that overwhelms his entire being.
Done with the last utensil, he puts it all away and joins them on the couch. The young girl now sleeps on Carmine's lap as he quietly looks to somewhere not in this world and softly pats her head.
"Should we put her to bed?" he asks softly.
Carmine nods numbly in return. At least he can still hear him.
Gently, Hydron lifts up Viola and softly wakes her up, and after a few moments of childish whining, she concedes to changing into her nightwear and snuggle off into bed. Carmine doesn't join them.
Returning to the living room, he sees him still staring off blankly into nowhere, now fiddling around a red unidentified gem in his hands that he seems to have procured out of nowhere.
"Carmine?"
No answer.
"Carmine."
Again.
"Carmine."
Third time is not the charm.
"Chase."
He finally looks up, and the look in his eyes are haunting to the soul. One couldn't help but empathize with the pain in him, even if they cannot fully understand.
So, of course, Hydron reaches out slowly to him and boops him on the nose.
The combination of both his true name and the sudden action startles the Hunter out of his stupor, and he looks at him strangely for just a moment before he recognizes his settings, and settles himself back into reality again, as if he had been dreaming all this time. They both share smiles, although it's clear that the older man's is more shaky.
"It's the girl," Carmine starts off first. The gem goes back discreetly into his coat pocket, and he pats the spot as if to see if he truly still possesses it.
He doesn't mind listening to the tragedy of a Huntsman, his two daughters, and his wife (who coincidentally shares the same name with his own girl's) again. He doesn't mind comforting him with arms open wide and rubbing his back when his own words would fail. Even when the tales are nearly fantastical with the horrifying way he describes everything that he saw, even when Hydron himself could scarcely believe him, he knows the sorrow and guilt in his eyes are very real, real enough to weigh him down more than a ton of cement, and he feels absolutely powerless that he can do nothing but stay by his side and whisper sweet nothings into his ear when silence fills the air otherwise.
He is getting to the part where he swore off lying ever again as Hydron gently guides him to their bed. It takes Carmine a bit to realize what exactly what is going on; he is sitting on the sheets before realizing that he ought not to dirty them with his outside clothing. He stops his story right where he is stuttering over the bloodied bow and takes his articles off, one at a time. His signature coat was already at the front door, so he peels off his vest, tie, shirt, even unbuckling his belt, until he is half-naked. His love doesn't shy away from the scars that criss-cross his chest, instead slowly running his fingers through each and every one with care, as if he can be broken with just one wrong touch.
"Back massage?" Hydron quietly prompts. By then, Carmine is choking back tears and stumbling over words.
His hands rub over his back, coaxing the teardrops to fall silently. Fingers ghost scars when not busy rubbing his stress away, and Carmine melts under his touch, boneless and shuddering, in pleasure from the relief brought to him.
"I took over their property. I couldn't bear it, at first; I couldn't touch anything without…" He doesn't continue his sentence, probably does not know how to, and he lets his voice fade away to nothing as Hydron presses a knot away. The quiet in the atmosphere is strung with sorrow and drying tears, with the only solace to be found in touches and comforting words of consolation from a man that cannot truly fathom all that the other has gone through.
But it is quite alright. Hydron knows from experience that all Carmine ever truly wants is someone to listen to him. And, at least, he is crying.
It doesn't take much effort to be friendly with the older man, that he knows. But, it's another story to ease his deepest fears and darkest memories out from the recesses of his mind, to listen and still love this clearly broken man.
But wasn't he himself broken as well?
"I miss them so much." The declaration came out of nowhere, and Hydron isn't sure who the "them" is addressing.
"Who, exactly?" he asks lightly.
There is a moment of silence before Carmine quietly mumbles, "Everyone. I miss everyone. I am sure you miss your late wife too."
Hydron's hand stills at the mention of her.
"Forgive me, I should not-"
"No, it's okay," he reassures him, resuming his back massage, although it is clear that he is shaken.
Carmine suddenly gets up and turns around to face Hydron, who looks back at him in confusion. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but he closes it again, as if not quite having the courage to speak whatever it was. Yet.
"What is it?" he asks, softly encouraging him to speak his mind.
It's a habit from his childhood, he remembers from what Carmine had once told him about his old life before becoming a Huntsman, or at least, what memories he can muster up and remember. Forced to hide his thoughts away, restrain himself and his passions from his parents, with his older sister being his only solace…
"I… I love you so much. You know that, right?" Carmine's eyes are still teary, red, and puffy, but Hydro won't mind lending his shoulder to cry on again.
"Of course, and I love you too."
"I mean it, I really do. You have been so kind to me, and I… and I…" He bites his lip and blushes, casting his look downward.
"And what?" Gods, he really is awfully cute when he can be. Hydron lays a hand over his and leans closer.
He keeps his silence, of course.
"You know," Hydron goes on, only slightly changing the subject, "Viola has been asking me if she could call you a father figure. 'Poppy', specifically. Like 'pops', but with a cute 'ee' in the end. And, you know, if the kid likes her dad's boyfriend, then I think I just got my blessing." He smiles widely and squeezes his hand.
"B-but I, what, but," Carmine stutters, giving him a stunned look, and the other man laughs, not so loud as to disturb his sleeping child. "Ring! I have yet to actually… I…"
"I'm gonna propose to you first!" he proudly declares.
"No, I believe I will," he responds defiantly. "I am older than you anyways," he tries to justify, but Hydron thrusts a finger at him and hushes him.
"Now, now, remember whose surname we agreed to switch too?"
"That hardly-"
"No excuses."
"Don't-"
They stop, and Hydron bursts out into laughter, and Carmine soon joins him in a fit of chuckles, both collapsing onto the bed together.
"Can you believe it? Summer vacation. Shorter, easier hours for me, holiday for both you and Viola… I really can't wait," Hydron breathlessly says after he forces himself to stop laughing. "Seriously though, who the hell argues about who gets to propose? We didn't even really get to start thinking about wedding preparations!"
"We do, my love. We do." Carmine gives Hydron a peck on the cheek. "Excuse me while I change my clothing."
"You sure you don't want me to look?"
"Hydron!"
"Just kidding, just kidding." Hydron grins and sticks his hands out in submission.
It's becoming increasingly rarer, Carmine's nightmares, they're both realizing. Hopefully, Hydron would be wrong about tonight.
The door opened while he was in the other room, packing incense into pots, and there was the 'thump' of a body falling to the floor. If he strained his ears, he could just make out a conversation between his two greatest (and most beloved) students.
"Get up," a masculine voice complained, adding, "If you're gonna pass out, at least let me in."
"Just walk over me then," the second voice replied curtly, her voice distinctly androgynous.
"We also need to close the door. Master will not be pleased if a beast wrecks his house."
"Fuck the Master, then; I want to sleep. Now."
A sigh and the sound of the same body being pushed aside. "Master Chase, tonight's Hunt has ended, and we've returned!" the man called out.
Another man, just as tall as the feather-clad one, stepped out of the kitchen with a large pot of incense. He greeted them both with a relieved, kind smile. "I am glad to see the both of you all right." With a grunt, he set the pot down next to the door, deftly avoiding his currently-fainted dark-haired student. "Well, I suppose Marthe shall sleep the morning away," he stated with a light tone. "I thought she would go over to Arianna's residence. What of you, Aless?"
"Breakfast, then sleep. Couch?" He set his cape on a coat hanger and stared down at his boots. "Should I…"
"Just don't track blood everywhere." The Master Hunter lifted up Marthe with not much effort needed on his part and carried her to a separate room, most likely to tuck her in bed before he went back to hear of Aless' current report.
Not like he really could, anyways. He was currently passed out too, snoring away on the couch.
He chuckled to himself and grabbed a book from a nearby bookshelf. He didn't care for which one he grabbed; he merely needed something to read to pass the time until Aless woke up.
He's a slower reader than most, taking time to go over every word and make sure that he knew what each of them are exactly. 'Tis the habits of a beginning reader, after all. Of course, he's not so illiterate anymore that he needed notes from past Hunters to be read out loud to him by a friend (thank goodness that his old friend while he still dreamt, Jabez, never opted to make fun of him for being less educated than him), and he is rather fast at picking up skills that he learned over the years, but he is not so confident in his literacy that he can breeze through sentences and paragraphs like… say, Marthe.
Ah, the privileges of the higher classes.
As the clock ticked by above the room, he sat comfortably at a chair he pulled up next to the current Hunter of Hunters and read quietly. In the back of his head, he noted of the almost-absent stench of rotting, bloody, and/or burning corpses. The ash was nearly gone too. It seemed that the sickly-sweet incense he prepared would all be for naught, which, in a strange way, was a relief to him.
It seems that tonight would be a peaceful night, a well-deserved night of rest for everyone, Hunters included.
Hydron smiles to himself as Carmine sleeps away next to him. Still awake and stuck in his arms, but no worries. He made himself comfortable and prepares for a peaceful night of rest.
A/N: It jumps around place to place, but it's just a place for me to kinda… vent my negativity in a positive way, I guess? Honestly, this was more of a practice than anything else. (After writing this, I actually had to retrain myself how to write in past tense wtf)
Ugh, the romance is so sickly sweet, I might just have to vomit and then throw myself over a cliff. Bloodborne, my butt. I'm more used to non-canonical OTP pining and secret adultery, thank you very much. (Not like I promote it. Please don't cheat, it's a bad thing.)
I may or may not publish a companion fic to this in the FE x RWBY section, idk. I highly recommend to not check there for a fanfiction made by me 25 years later. You won't find anything at all.
I'm more than happy to answer any questions, by the way. I understand that this is really confusing out of context, hahaha.
Ciao for now!
Dink.
Dink.
Dink.
The beast above them quietly knocks his bird-like beak-head on the arcane, invisible barrier between him and his goal. Why was he hidden from it-him, why? Always just out of sight, always just out of reach.
It aggravates it-him, and that human emotion drives it-him more.
Human, human, human.
Dink.
Dink.
Dink.
It-He could see its-his two compatriots, at least. Ones, like it-him, a bit, at least. The now-beast-woman sprinting across desert to escape the heat, searching by scent; the now-human-man slipping from town to town, searching by word-of-mouth.
Even if it-he has now ascended, every time it-he wants sO dAmN mUCH TO BE HUMAN. AGAIN.
POWER IS NOT WORTH. GODHOOD IS NOT WORTH.
HUMAN, HUMAN, HUMAN.
Dink.
Dink.
Dink.
'Wait.'
'Friend. Hunter friend. Wait.'
'I come.'
'Beware the Lady.'
'Beware the Silence.'
'Beware the Devourer.'
'Fragile, small, human, friend, Good Hunter human friend.'
'Wait.'
'I come.'