disclaimer: Twilight = Stephanie Meyer; Darkstalkers series = Capcom
Made this crossover on a whim, just for laughs, etc. etc.
Maybe I should make something featuring others, but maybe when I find a more concrete link between these two series. :3
Anyway, not gonna get into the sludge of the fandom, just a little musing and maybe a bit more.
Waking the Sleeping Dragon
He didn't know what dragged him here in the first place.
Still, even after everything that had happened, whenever he felt... lost, unsure... or hesitant about who he was and his role in the pack... he felt the pull of that place, wherever it was... and that it was like a sanctuary to him.
Sanctuary because evidently, that man knew what he was. His gifts... his burdens... his responsibilities. He knew, even if all he said was something like it came out of that series starring David Carradine or something.
One time, he even saw the man he respected in a garish purple jumpsuit, doing stances and throwing punches while screaming high-pitched noises.
Matter of fact, that was how he ran into this... master of his.
He felt pretty confident in what he could do... until a few moments after he had asked for a spar, where he was tackled from all sides with blinding speed, beaten up repeatedly with those accursed wooden implements... and the man didn't even shift.
So he did the next best thing: he asked to learn from this... master, who accepted.
But he didn't teach anything about fighting, the master said. What he taught was more of a philosophy of life.
After a few weeks of learning from this master, he had said his goodbyes - thus did teacher and student go their separate ways.
Here now was the man - though by all appearances, he looked more like someone in his late teens - standing in front of what looked like a run-down karate dojo in the town of Forks.
Breath catching in his throat, he went to the door... carefully opened it... and nearly leaped from surprise when the chimes strung up began to tinkle, signaling his arrival.
A man with long, brown hair scattered wildly was hunched over a scroll, etching characters with artful precision with a paintbrush. The boy, no... man... saw him stop for a moment at the chime's sound before continuing on.
He shrugged off his shoes, put them in the rack, and carefully approached the still-writing man.
And then he finished his calligraphy, and looked up to whoever entered.
"So you come to me again... young one. How long has it been since you last sought my aid?"
"...Master Talbain. It has, indeed, been a long time."
The master smiled wolfishly at the student. "How have your studies been, Jacob? Tell me that you have not been ignoring your own path for that of your pack."
The man named Jacob hesitated.
"Relax. This place has been sealed. Your pack won't hear your thoughts here... unless you want to," the legendary werewolf Jon Talbain said. "So... if this isn't a matter of your own skill... perhaps you come here for guidance, because of the role you should be playing?"
Jacob nodded.
"You are still on the path to wisdom, young Jacob," Talbain said as he stood up and slowly put away the writing implements, hanging the scroll out to dry on the dojo wall. "Though it may look like the road is long, bleak, and confusing, you still endure. But... do you endure for yourself, your pack, or... others?"
He went to one of the weapon racks, picked up a pair of nunchucks, and shrugged off the silk shirt.
"But before I can help you, I want to see just how far you've come in your training."
The only warning Jacob got was a howl before he himself shifted, and then there was only the moment.
Now, all Jacob Black could focusing on was not being beaten into the ground by one of the legendary ones of his kind.
He thought that he could face a legend head-on now.
Jacob Black had no idea.