"No, you cannot have him!" Elizaveta snarled, leaping back to dodge the other mercenary's blade. "Go away, horrible man!" Her own blade fell upon his bright armor and simply clinked against it, having no real effect.
"Fucking paladins," cursed Gilbert, hiding himself behind his mercenary as she fought with valor. "It's bad enough I'm shunned from the town," he spat. Elizaveta finally got the opportunity, and impaled her sword through the paladin's throat, and kicked him down to the ground.
"I'm sorry I allowed him to get so close," Elizaveta mumbled, sheathing her sword before turning back to Gilbert. "I should've seen him coming."
"He must have used an invisibility potion," Gilbert theorized, gritting his teeth. "What a fuckass."
"You should get back inside," she huffed, shoving the man robed in red and black. "It's sunny out, and that cloak won't protect you properly."
"Y'know," mumbled Gilbert as he was shoved back to their makeshift shelter: a small cave. "I wish they'd give up on trying to erase my damned culture."
"They shorten it to 'cult', Gil."
"It's not a cult!"
"It is."
"Okay, so what if it's a cult!" Gilbert gave up, relieved once he was back in the shade. "I still have every right to exist and not be hunted every day!" Elizaveta had left by this point, going back outside to loot the body.
"You have more than one reason to be hunted, Gil," Elizaveta frowned as she returned, hauling the man's body back inside. "Here, help me get his armor off. We can sell it." After the man was stripped of his plating, Elizaveta stabbed him once more for good measure. "That'll teach you to go after my friend," she spat, stomping on his chest.
"If this is for friendship, why do I still have to pay you?" Gilbert murmured.
"I only do mercenary work for you, and so I expect you to pay me thusly." She huffed, and flicked her hair sassily. "I need to fill my belly somehow."
They settled back inside the cave, and Elizaveta started herself a fire away from Gilbert. It had started raining, and so she wished to warm herself up. "Fire sucks," declared Gilbert from the other end of the cave; he was hiding away there with his cloak's hood pulled down to mask his face. "It hurts me from all the way over here."
"Fine, you come here and warm me up then," Elizaveta puffed. "Your fault for being a vampire."
"It is not my fault," he protested, although he forced himself to his feet to walk towards Elizaveta. "Put that fucking fire out, dammit."
"I'm going to leave it going simply to keep the cave lit," Elizaveta argued, standing up and closing the distance between she and Gilbert. "Since I don't have freaky eyes like you."
"They're not freaky! You're such a mean girl," Gilbert huffed, batting at her hand as it reached up to move his hood. "Don't do that, I look horrible."
"You look pale, that's all," she argued, and downed the hood before Gilbert could protest any more. "Perhaps a bit scraggly, too."
"Horrible, in other words."
Gilbert was actually quite stunning. Well, he had been, before the whole incident. Being within his little cult had been quite dangerous already. Paladins and those with belief in the divines were hardly tolerant of those who worshipped the other, darker side of the coin. One quest was arduous and annoying, and he had gone it alone because of his arrogance and pride. A whole vampire nest was to be swept clean, and he boasted that he could do it alone. He could not.
When he returned to his cult, sick and haggard from the illness coursing through his veins, he found that it had been destroyed by the church, and the entire sanctuary burnt to the ground. With hesitance, he sought out his brother, and collapsed at his doorstep.
The first few months of vampirism were generally horrible. Cravings, mood swings, and erratic behaviour were all bundled together in the bloodsucker package deal. His brother, Ludwig, had needed to chain him to the cellar wall to restrain him on some nights; these nights were the ones where he would howl and screech and wail for blood. Ludwig's partner, a short young merchant by the name of Feliciano, would buy one of his brother's sheep, and offer its blood to Gilbert instead of human blood. It tasted terrible, but Gilbert wolfed it down nonetheless. It kept him going.
After he calmed down and settled more into this new style of life, Ludwig let him go, trusting him to behave. Gilbert still stayed tightly to the rules of his cult, although there were no other members to ensure he followed the tenets. He was a quiet man, almost a recluse. When he traveled, he would take out any man foolish enough to travel alone and on foot, and would drain him for all he had; it was a brilliant feeling to be truly full, and he sought that feeling often.
He had been pursuing a young man alongside a travel route for a long while. He believed the man smelled delicious, and was simply waiting for a good opportunity to dive upon him and take him out. He seemed unarmed, and Gilbert readied himself well for the attack. As the young man traveled in the evening, Gilbert would knock him down and drink all of the delicious blood within his veins. It didn't go to plan in the least.
They young man was currently checking a map, leaning up against a tree. As he rolled up the parchment and went to start a fire, Gilbert moved in. He leapt upon the man, in hope of knocking him to the ground. He did not, and the young man had the upper hand in seconds, kicking Gilbert to the ground and staring down at him, one boot on his chest.
"Who are you?!" The voice was distinctly feminine, and Gilbert felt taken aback. "What do you want from me?!"
"I-" Gilbert stammered, simply watching as the young man-.. er, young woman, tore her hood back and her light brown hair was allowed to breathe.
"Do you think I am some man who will allow you to attack me and steal my possessions?!" she snarled, kicking down at Gilbert's chest again. She, of course, couldn't see properly in the dark. Gilbert could. He recognized her in an instant.
"Elizaveta?" he whimpered, coughing a bit from where she had struck him. "Mein gott, it's you-"
"How do you know my name?" Elizaveta spat, leaning downward and glaring at him. "Have you been stalking me?"
"No, no, it's Gilbert! Gil!" he cried, and was relieved when her heavy boot was lifted from his chest.
"No way," Elizaveta mumbled. "Last I heard, you were dead."
"I kind of am," Gilbert shrugged meekly, taking her extended hand and getting to his feet. "Only sort of."
"Are you a ghost?" she tried.
"Try again."
"Reanimated corpse?"
"You're getting colder."
"I'm not in the mood for your guessing games," Elizaveta huffed, and put together a collection of small timber pieces and whatnot from her pack. "Just tell me."
"I kind of got swamped by vampires a year back," he shrugged, and she just turned to look at him in disbelief. "Uh, yeah, so I'm kind of an awesome creature of the night, y'know?"
"That is hardly awesome," he scoffed, lighting the fire and sitting down beside it. "If you try to bite me, I will decapitate you."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Gilbert and Elizaveta had been childhood friends, playing together in their small town just short of the South. When he had found interest in the cult, he was made to run away from his family and younger brother to take part in the initiation rituals and whatnot. It was painful to leave them, but he craved the authority and power that would surely come with holding a place in the cult.
Gilbert hesitantly sat down, pouting and pulling down his hood. "The bright light actually really hurts me," he mumbled.
"That's what you get for being a vampire, Gil." Elizaveta retorted, warming her hands. "Humans have to keep warm, unlike you."
"I'm still human," he huffed indignantly. "Uh, kind of."
"Uh huh." She rolled her eyes, and punched his shoulder gently. "Fine, if it hurts you so much, I'll put it out." She did as she had said, pouring water on and stomping upon the flames until they were nothing but glowing embers. "Happy now? Now, I am cold."
"I am," he scoffed, shuffling a little closer to her.
One thing led to another, and their lips were pressed together in a fit of longing and passion, and their bodies became quickly stripped of clothing; they were pressed up against one another instead. Gilbert's body was as cold as ice, but he took great pleasure in just how warm Elizaveta's was. They had shared a love since they were children, but had never been able to express their affections. In adolescence, Elizaveta had been betrothed to a nobleman, a Jarl, in fact. She had stayed with him a while, before politics decreed that their marriage was unfruitful, and they were split thusly. She and Gilbert were an entire other story, now making love aside a dying fire.
"You don't look horrible," Elizaveta huffed, leaning in and letting her lips trail down his nose and to his own lips. "You look like Gilbert."
"Your argument still has no weight on me," he argued, nipping lightly at her lip. She didn't hesitate in putting her arms around his waist, and he had thoughts that he may well get lucky. "Looking like Gilbert is hardly a worthy argument, although I'm fucking awesome."
"You're contradicting yourself," she pointed out, tensing a little when their lips parted and Gilbert leaned his head to the side. "You're the awesome Gilbert, and looking like Gilbert is a good thing. I like how Gilbert looks."
He didn't respond with words, simply making an 'mm-hm' sound and opening his mouth. Elizaveta glanced down, catching the tiniest glimpse of red eyes turning black, and elongated canines becoming prominent. "Gilbert!" she huffed, reaching a hand up and slapping his cheek. She parted from him in an instant. "What have I told you!"
"Shit," he murmured, closing his mouth. His eyes slowly faded back to their normal colour, and he rubbed the two ugly scars aside his neck. "I'm sorry, Liz."
"Yeah, yeah," she huffed, going off and returning to the fire. "Go to sleep, Gil. We have a long journey in the morning."
"I can't sleep," he mumbled rather downedly.
"Go and sit in the corner and pretend to sleep, Gil. We have a long journey in the morning."
Elizaveta eventually fell asleep by the fire, drifting off without too much trouble. Gilbert spent the evening trying to get his body to shut down in the form of respite, but found himself very troubled, what with the illness affecting his general state of being. He almost always had bags beneath his eyes. He simply watched Elizaveta by the glaring light of the fire, watched her chest rise and fall with each breath. When she woke, he slowly went over to her, and sat by the dying flame.
"Rise and shine, beautiful." He crouched, and offered a cocky smirk. "We gotta go and find Toni today."
"Ugh, I feel like death," she muttered wearily, sitting up and running a hand through her messy bedhair. "Can I not just sleep for five more minutes?"
"I feel like death," scoffed Gilbert, rolling his eyes. "You can't sleep in every morning, Liz. Or else it's not sleeping in. It's just your regular wake up time. Besides, Toni's gonna get mad if we don't get to the inn by midday."
"He can go and screw a tomato," Elizaveta muttered, rolling over and hiding her face in her bedroll. "I don't care."
"Nein, but really," Gilbert huffed. "You really don't want to see him when he gets mad."
Eventually, and by the work of a miracle, Gilbert managed to drag Elizaveta out of the cave, and they headed down into the town, and from there, into the tavern. Antonio was already sitting at the counter, a smaller man to his side. "Ugh, Toni, you said he wouldn't be here." The man muttered, elbowing Antonio sharply in the side. "You know I hate him and his brother."
"Now, now, you needn't get so angry about it," Antonio huffed, ruffling the man's hair and then turning to Gilbert and Elizaveta. "Hola, amigo, amiga."
"Yes, yes, hello," Elizaveta sighed, and Antonio's friend quickly came up to her.
"Why, you're a lovely lady, aren't you?"
"She's taken," snickered Gilbert, leading the two of them up to sit beside Antonio.
"You tried, Lovi." Antonio mused quietly, watching his friend sit back down grumpily at the bar.
"So, what's the occasion? Surely you didn't just invite me to the bar to get drunk with me," Gilbert puffed, ordering himself a tankard of mead. "We haven't done that since Francis was alive."
"You breach the subject so easily," coughed Antonio. "Anyway, surely you remember my friend-enemy-rival, no?"
"Who, that dickhead who thinks he can beat me up?"
"No, the other one."
"Oh, he's okay, I suppose."
"The point, please," Elizaveta butted in.
"He came to me begging for help, and his companion is off on a quest somewhere, so he cannot help." Antonio murmured. "He told me of his problems, and, I can hardly help him. He asked for you, actually."
"Fine, take me to see the bastard."
Gilbert was led upstairs, leaving Elizaveta and Lovino to chat; it was more like Lovino was trying to flirt, and Elizaveta was ignoring him entirely. She just stole Gilbert's mead and smirked at him because he wasn't old enough to drink. In Antonio's rented room, a gaunt man lay in the bed, appearing feverish and pale.
"Arthur?" Gilbert murmured, wandering in and peering over the downed man. "Hey, pal, you feeling okay?"
ohhhh boy ok um this is kind of a backstory and kind of a side story from a rp between laveniis and i. the au itself is a mix of many things. it's a big mashup of RPG genres and aspects, and a whole lot of skyrim. gilbert's cult is something like the mythic dawn, a daedric worshipping cult that has been collapsed. the main pairing of the rp itself is rochu. side pairings are usuk (arthur's companion in this story is alfred), gerita, spamano, and pruhun so far. oh, and past fruk. because, y'know, francis is dead. he comes back as a ghost, though! i'm sorry for not being able to explain what's up with arthur, because it's a secret to laveniis right now (the sucker haha) and Ii'm trying to make her all suspenseful and whatnot. if you want to know, just PM me or leave a review and i'll happily tell you. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this uwu thanks for reading!