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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 5 months

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Beware: Angst ahead. Also, while this particular WIP doesn't have any +18 topic, in virtue of the fact that Vampire the Masquerade revolve around +18 content, all material will be presented as such. Therefore, Minors DNI.

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Laying on the plushy velvet blanket of her canopy bed - one of the few amenities she still possessed from the days of her human life - Dorothea just stared at the ceiling, unblinking eyes that saw far beyond the roof of her boudoir, hands folded in her lap.

Not a single emotion could be seen on her face, immobile in that unnatural stasis that was of her kind.

A pool of complete stillness: nothing further from the immense chaos that churned just beneath the surface.

A rivulet of fresh blood trickled from the side of her lips, running down her neck until it blended with her golden white curls.

She didn’t know how long she had been standing so still, in that inertia that always caught her after each feeding and imprisoned her with her memories.

A soft snoring rose just besides her, distracting her from the solitary journey of her train of thoughts. She slowly turned her eyes to look toward the man sleeping peacefully besides her, enveloped in the blissful afterglow of the ecstasy that the Kiss always brought upon humans.

The blood always quenched the ancestral necessity of the curse of her kind, but did nothing to erase the emptiness that left behind.

His soft hair fell like a curtain over his face, hidden against the soft down pillow.

Eyes still unblinking, Dorothea broke from her inertia and raised her hand; hesitant, almost trembling, she caressed those black curls away from the man’s face, hoping against hope to see a glimmer of what her memories always showed her. But that face was wrong, completely different from what she expected: the curve of the jaw was not as defined, the zygomas not as sharp, his skin far lighter, his lashes not as long, the nose not as straight, the eyes not as upturned and, when they were staring at her, not dark and sweet, but blue and cold.

It wasn’t him.

She felt like heaving, a whole rock sitting on her stomach, a tightness in her throat that just wanted to find release in purging.

The blood had been to her taste, coppery with undertones of nutmeg and the spumescent aftertaste of all the alcohol in his system, irreverence and joie-de-vivre, and touch of spiciness that every Spaniard carried with themselves.

The vessel provided had indeed been delectable, as it always was when the preys that succumbed to her resembled the one man always in her memories.

Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of utter disgust that had encompassed her, a feeling akin to the time she had made the mistake of feeding off the wrong type of blood, as a fledgling, when she hadn’t figured out what her type was yet .

Silent as a cat and in need of complete loneliness, she rose from the mattress and slipped a plum-colored robe on her naked body, the smooth fabric softly caressing her skin. Careful to not look behind, she left her master bedroom, mindful to lock the door behind to avoid any possible escape.

She would get rid of the man later.

With quick, inaudible steps, she reached the opposite side of her suite, where her boudoir was located, the only room in the sleeping area of her apartment that didn’t have obscuring blinds.

Without thinking, she put on some music from her own personal playlist, the only thing that could help calm her soul. As the notes started to rise in the sweet air of the evening, she took a deep breath, trying with all her might to will her memories away.

She didn’t want to.

She never wanted to will them away.

But she had to.

She sat on the small ottoman by the window and leaned against the windowsill for a while, laying her cheek on her crossed arms, eyes lost as she watched the world outside of her haven.

Snow was falling ever so softly, in an elegant dance that almost seemed to invite her to twirl around under the gentle flakes.

But she couldn’t.

Not now.

Not ever again.

Suddently the soft rendition of a cover of “Iris” hummed in Dorothea’s ears, the soft voice of the singer and the gentle notes of a guitar enveloping her in the soft penumbra of the boudoir, as she rested her head against the frame of the window.

“And I'd give up forever to touch you Cause I know that you feel me somehow You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be And I don't want to go home right now

'Cause all I can taste is this moment And all I can breathe is your life So and sooner or later, it's over I just don't wanna miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am”

“I wish,” she murmured to herself.

“Never knew you were a Goo Goo Dolls appreciator, Dorlé,”

A gentle voice, warm as a late summer wind - one she would recognize among thousands - spoke behind herself. Dorothea turned her head slowly, giving the man that had just entered a long cold look.

Arno Dorian was standing tall against the frame of the door, his long dark hair hanging on the side of his face, enhancing his already otherworldly beauty. Dressed as sharply as ever, Dorothea could have been inclined to think that he was about to go to the club on the Strand - his favourite hunting ground.

“Just because I gave you permission to come and go in my abode as it pleases you, that does not mean that you can avoid to knock before entering, Arno. I could have been naked for all you knew.”

The man gave her a knowing look: her sulkiness could signify only one thing.

"Feeding night?”

“Yes, as if you weren’t in the known already! And as such, I must apologize but I am not inclined for social call of any kind tonight, not even from you.”

A small smile of sympathy touched his lips.

“Had it been any other night, I would have been the first one to block the passage of any visitor to your haven. But, as much as it cross me having to bother you when you are at your most fragile, You will heed my words, Dorlé. Because I am not here in vest of your sibling but as your Sheriff, my Prince.”

Dorothea’s expression transmuted from miffed to suddenly alert. If he was addressing her by her title, even in the privacy of her abode, she could not ignore his silent demand to be received.

“Speak. What happened?”

“Earlier tonight we had a breach in our Domain, just outside the perimeter of Saint Paul.”

“A rogue Lasombra?”

“Worse.”

Arno handed her a small object: a calling card, not so dissimilar to the one that she herself had seen used by her own father when she was still alive. Dorothea took it and her lips thinned in a grimace of irritation as she recognizing the symbol filigreed on the heavy coarse paper: a rook holding a knight in its talons, bright yellow against a murky green background.

On the other side of the card, there was only one word: "tonight".

So garish.

So presumptious.

She knew precisely who was sending her that invitation.

“The galls and gumption of not even penning a proper invite! To say nothing of the lack of protocol! I am in no mood to meet that barbarian, tonight, nor any other night for that matter, and certainly not without him taking a bath first.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory of the stench of the Thames that always seemed to hang to the Baron like a tick to a dog’s coat. “Have my Senechal do the honors and oversee this affair as he sees fit, and have him report to me once the meeting is done and over.”

Arno shook his head with resignation.

“I am afraid it won’t be possible. Monsieur Kenway is…unavailable for the night, my Prince. Besides, the Baron reported that he will speak to no one but you, and made it quite clear that he won’t take no for an answer.”

Fighting the impulse to roll her eyes, Dorothea stood up with a fluid movement and sat at her vanity. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, scouring for something only she knew about, before opening a small wooden box containing her perfumes and dabbing the sweet orange flower fragrance along the side of her neck.

“Always so aggressive in his ways, so disrespectful of the Traditions that have uphold this whole Masquerade ever since the coming of the Dark Father. I see the past century has not helped assuage his temper nor made him any wiser than when he was fledgling jumping around the roofs of London. His unruliness is what caused his own downfall in this wretched unlife,” she murmured in annoyance, starting to brush each of her golden white curls with meticulous care. “I always had a soft spot for his sister, you know: as much as she disliked me, I always thought her rather reasonable and quite agreeable. We were similar under many aspects. I was even given permission to Embrace her. She would have made for a fine Senechal in our Court, had it not been for that encounter with a Garou,”

Raising her gaze, she glanced again toward Arno, her eyes as cold as the winter wind that was blowing just outside the window. “Did he mention any particular reason for his haste?”

Arno hesitated for a moment, long enough for Dorothea to notice.

“He did not say his motives but-”

Dorothea narrowed her eyes, turning toward him.

“-But your instinct tells you that there is something there.”

“Correct. I have known Jacob-“

The young woman hissed and snarled through gritted teeth.

“Do not utter his name here!”

“Forgive me, Prince. For a moment, I forgot,” he murmured softly. “As I was saying, I have known the Baron for as long as you have, but never had I seen him so..distressed. Considering that he was willing to risk his neck coming straight into our domain in person, without any mediator, I gather that whatever is worrying him, it might have the potential to be a danger for us as well.” He weighted his next words carefully, before speaking.” It could be worth listening to what he has to say.”

Dorothea let out a long breath.

There was truth in her Sheriff’s words, a truth she didn’t want to agree with, at least not wholeheartedly.

She hadn’t spoken to the Baron in over seventy years, not since the Blitz in the 40s, not a single word passed directly between the two of them.

He had tried - oh, if he had tried to speak with her.

But she had closed herself to any form of dialogue with him.

Up until that point.

As her mind was frantically running around, trying to find an anchor to center her thoughts, she pursed her lips even more: she was nervous. Anxious.

He made her nervous.

The idea of seeing his face again, hear his voice again, rendered her nervous.

And there was nothing in the world that she hated the most as feeling nervous.

Yet, she could not risk the safety of her Court because of her uneasiness.

“Very well, then.” She murmured, taking one of her own calling cards and a plume and starting to carve an invitation with impeccable calligraphy. ”With Haytham absent for the night, I will have to ask you, my Sheriff, to give the Baron my answer and bring him my invite to join us at the Elysium at the next full moon.” She said, underlining the last three words with voice that didn’t allow any kind of rebuttal.

If he wanted to meet her, so be it.

But it would be on her own terms.

Suddenly, her eyes lit up and a satisfied smile spread on her face.

“Might be a good idea to extend the invitation to the Italian Triumvirate as well.” she chuckled.

Arno furrowed his heavy brows, his lips turning thin in displeasure - something that didn’t elude Dorothea.

“Does this displease you, Arno?”

“The idea of having the Italians in our sacred abode doesn’t truly sit well with me. And to have a Anarch come into our sacred abode and wreak havoc? Even less so.”

Dorothea finished penning the invite, apposing her signature with fanciful swirls. Then she gave it to Arno.

“He will behave, I am sure. A proper scoundrel he may be, but even the Baron knows better than to break the Fifth Tradition in my Elysium. He asked to speak with me, but considering his lack of... specification of any particular condition, we will make those conditions for him. And if he won’t speak with anyone but me, then, I say, have him come to us. It will be also an occasion to show that our strength lies in our unified bond, and what better occasion to showcase this if not during one of our gathering?”

Arno’s mouth quirked in a grimace of disagreement.

“Ahh, I see. So, now it is indeed my Primogen talking to me now, not my loyal Sheriff. Very well, Arno of the Clan of the Rose: what is it that is causing that deep wrinkle on your forehead?”

“Lucia. Why calling upon her as well? One renegade at the time is enough.”

Dorothea smiled benevolently, flashing her fangs as she did so.

“Because you see, brother of my soul, there is something that you do not know about the Baron.”

Arno raised his eyebrows, silently asking her to continue.

Dorothea chuckled, but there was no warmth in her laughter.

“Something happened in his early days as Kindred, something that left him with a level of aberration for the Tremere that rivals only the hate the Tzimisce have for them. He swore on his sister’s grave that he would never allow any of the Thaumaturges to even come close to his territories, let alone associate with him. And it is not only this, oh no! If he “just” abhors the Tremere, he is absolutely terrified of Lucia for the hand she had in what he had witnessed.”

Arno nodded, his long hair brushing his cheek as he did so: he could definitely see why Jacob would be terrified of Lucia, if the rumors around her coincided with the truth. (……………)

“Very well, if this is all, I will leave you return to your duties-“

“I….this is not all, my Prince,”Arno stood where he was, his eyes turning even darker than what they had been when he was alive.”I saw you today, not long before sunrise. Outside of that studio, waiting under the rain.”

She gripped the brush in her hands, catching herself at the last moment so not to pulverize it, her jaw tightening.

“Your point?”

“I am not one to tell you what to do, my Prince, nor would I ever fathom your motives. But the Court will start asking… questions, if they were to get a hint of why you have gathered such keen interest in a particular kine.”

Dorothea didn’t answer, not right away at least.

She took a long breath, even though she didn’t need to.

It just felt like something she would have done, had she been human.

Human.

Something she hadn’t been for more than 150 years.

As if on cue, she felt The Beast stirring up withink, somewhere deep in her abdomen, brushing its sharp talon against her still heart, its breathing hot against her neck, whispering, a soft, seducing murmur ever present in all her waking moments: a monster constantly lurking for the mere hint of weakness to exploit and destroy whatever humanity she had still left in her.

She touched the small ampule hanging over her breasts, the blood turned dark by the decades past.

All that she had left of him that still somehow anchored her to her last remnants of who she had been once alive.

“How long have you been following me, Arno?”

“Long enough to notice a pattern in these “excursions” of yours, Dorlé, and long enough to know that what you are doing to yourself will only cause your soul to wither further away. He is not him.”

Dorothea’s face stood still, her eyes never leaving the man’s own brown irises, not a single emotion transpiring from either of them.

But no amount of temperance and composure could stop the single tear -carmine, pristine like a ruby, the only tears their kind could shed- rolling down her cheek before she had the time to stop it.

“You are wrong,” she whispered, as the man she had know her entire undead life came closer to her and gently patted away her tear with his handkerchief. “I know that it could not be possible, that it should not be possible. But Arno, you know - you know why I cannot be deceived. I know what I saw. I know what I heard. And it was real. Real.”

The man let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping a little at the thought of the man that had been his brother in all but blood.

“Dorlé… you said it yourself. It cannot be possible. Mathias-“ Arno swallowed hard, the lump in his throat gripping. He hadn’t uttered that name in almost a hundred years, and the pain was still too much to bear at the memories, the very same that, he knew, haunted Dorothea each time she fed. “Mathias is gone. He is in God’s arms now, and no matter how much this man resembles him, he is not him.”

Grief screamed inside Dorothea’s chest, her own anguish shrieking in her ears, an echo of her own voice that reached from across the mists of time. She felt Arno’s hands on her shoulders, as he rested his brow against hers, locking eyes with hers in the hope to force both their minds to block the memories of the last moments of Mathias on that Earth.

“Arno, I beg you to understand…you have seen him. I know you have. He has his voice. His eyes, his hair, his hands..his smile! Even his scent resembles the one he used to have! Everything that made me human, everything that moved me when I was still alive is screaming at me that the man I saw was him, returned to me! How can I ignore such call? How can I-”

Arno’s brown eyes softened in pity.

“You cannot. And I cannot stop you from doing what you think it is right for you, Dorlé, even if it pains me to see you in this state. But the Court might not share this sentiment, and you know that.”

She closed her eyes, lips stretching in a grimace of pain. None of the stillness of their kind was to be found on her face, but all the pain of sufference that belonged to humanity.

“Do you ever wish to be able to dream again?” she asked.

Arno lowered his face, shutting his eyes to keep at bay his own pain, always threatening to overflow from his unbeating heart.

He decided to listen to her instead: it was easier to focus on her pain than face his own.

Her memories, she would often say, were her most prized possession and her most lethal weapon, sharp as the edge of a double knife.

And yet he knew that being an active participant of her shared pain was a right she had bestowed only upon one person in her unlife, and he was one that person.

He still remember, clear as if it had happened the day before, when he found her, still a fledgling, hidden in the catacombs beneath Paris, scared to her wits, with no memories of who her Sire was nor how she came to be welcomed in the Embrace.

Yet, as they started to walk the Earth together and he brought her deeper and deeper in his world, they came to consider each other the brother and the sister that neither had had once alive.

The fact that fate would have soon joined them by the same kind of pain, born out of the same sufferance, was also the reason why he knew he was the only person in the entire world that she trusted completely with her thoughts.

“No. Not really,” he murmured, closing again the door of the bedroom. “When I lay down and await to plummet into the nothingness, I feel all memories coming back to me, clearer than I wished them to be. And I don’t want them. I don’t want that pain anymore. So no, I don’t want my thoughts to be anything but what I choose to think about, and dreams have the pesky peculiarity of coming unsummoned.”

Dorothea nodded as she listened carefully, her gaze turning sad as a small smile touched her lips.

“I am grateful for the lack of nightmares,” she whispered. “Although the memories of them are dimmer than I remember, they used to plague my mortal life. But the nothingness still terrifies me. You know, when I was alive, I always believed that through dreams we could somehow return to the people we lost. Eyes meeting eyes even if it is never to touch again. I hoped to see Mathias again, to find the comfort of his embrace at least when I am drifting away. But after having been turned-“ she sighed as she looked up to the ceiling. “How cruel it is having to face this emptiness alone for all eternity,”

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MONDAY DRAFT?

MONDAY WIP?

MONDAY "ALMOST ALL CHAPTER"?

I have no idea how to call this post, just that OMG I AM SO HAPPY TO BE ABLE TO SHARE IT WITH YOU ALL.

Again, it's just a draft, and while I do multiple revisions of all my drafts while writing, sometimes mistakes escapes me, so please bear with me <3

I am sorry for the angst festival, but I PROMISE THAT IT BECOMES A BIT SWEETER. While I can write angst quite easily, I can't not reward everyone with FLUFF.

Well, I hope you will like this, just as much as I loved writing it! (and omg the fun I had to design the banner! I am such a sucker for vampire stuff, honestly).seriously, I went like a train while writing this, and it hasn't happened in FOREVER!! SO I TRULY HOPE YOU WILL LIKE THIS!!

--Nemo

#Nemo Writes #Vampire the Masquerade #Assassin's Creed Syndicate #Jacob Frye #vtm #Arno Dorian #Dorothea Starrick #Mathias De Beaumont #my ocs #my writing #my crossover #vampires #oh yeeeeees #ocfairygodmother

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jayisjusttired · 1 year

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Today just seems like a good day to spout all my ideas lol

So I am currently thinking about writing a crossover between SHY and BNHA. Which given that its been like 2 years since I've read part of the bnha manga, this might not be a good idea lol. But I think they have the potential for a great crossover, just not in the way most people think lol.

What automatically comes to mind is Teru entering ua at the same time as Izuku/cannon. As like a normal student trying to become a hero. Which is a good idea, I like it, but think about it, in current Shy cannon, Teru is already a hero. Like she has been a hero for some months (I think) when the manga begins. She is 14 when the manga begins.

So let's assume this crossover takes place post Shy cannon (aka Stigma is defeated) while Bnha cannon begins. So maybe its been a year, Shy is 15 and already a hero, now with significant experience.

So ua, or at least Nezu had to have some idea on the risks of All Might becoming a teacher? Possibly some previous knowledge on the League's plans? So they need to have extra protection for the students who will be around All Might the most, the hero classes. Enter Teru! She is the right age to be entering ua and is already a hero. She joins class 1-a as subtle protection for the hero course. None of the students jnow she is a hero, so they can ensure no one outside of us staff know that they know something is up.

(Since it would be unfair if someone is already a hero taking a spot from a student to actually learn, there are now 21 spots in each class. Yes this does mean I am having Iko join class-b because she is badass)

I think it would be funny for other pro-heros to find out Shy is actually 15, and be like "a child? A hero already? But you started a couple years ago??!?!" (insert concern). And I also think it would be doubly funny if Pepesha and David (Stardust) are kinda like Teru's parents for school stuff. Because David is also a superstar, while Pepesha seems not to be famous as her real self, unless it is publically known she is also Spirits. (But given that its seems no one from the orphanage knew her as a hero, I think her identity is secret). I say Pepesha and David because who else? They are either not old enough or not close enough to Teru to be parental figures. Also the other options are literally a shrimp or an alien. (Also like where are her parents, is her grandad still alive??)

Then you also need to think about the Heart Conversion Bracelets. Clearly are alien tech, but it allows all the heros have different special powers. At the base it gives the user extra strength and other supernatural abilities, as well as lets them transform into their hero outfits. I want to implement them like the individual power each of the heros to be their quirks. So Spirits can turn into smoke, but gets super strength from the bracelets. But I hesitate because it was a very important part of Teru's character of discovering she can weild fire with the bracelets. So I don't know how to introduce that. Maybe I'll have her not be able to weild fire after her sister's death and then when she gains more confidence in herself she unlocks it again? Or maybe Teru just has basic strength enhancements, but the bracelets give her fire hmmmm. I think I'll go with the latter, mainly to make the fire her own.

Also about the heros in Shy. Instead of each of the heros being like the only hero of ecah country/representative, I think I'll make them all part of an international hero agency run by Uni-Lord. So the agency specializes in quick management of dealing with villains that cause problems in multiple countries. So one hero per country still.

I'm also thinking about Mei/Shine. About her popular she might have been, from what I understand from some untranslated chapters, it is known that Shine was Teru's sister by her teachers (all of this is heavy speculation on my part) and Shinebwas quite popular in Japan. So I think it will be interesting for Teru to go into ua and telling people her sister was Shine.

(What if I kill off Iida's brother in the Stain arc? Teru tries to comfort him? Or he looks to her for advice? Maybe I won't kill him off, but Iida feels bad because he feels he can't explain feeling sad about what happened with his brother in case he offends Teru because her hero sister actually died. That is if Teru joins the dekusquad though)

Also part of this idea of Teru at least joining class 1-a stemmed from the while thing was Kouta (I think thats his name, the kid from the summer camp arc who's parents were heros and died, so he hates heros). I haven't completed the summer camp arc, so thats a thing, might not be entirely accurate. But it is practically implied in Shy, that Mei kinda raised Teru more than their parents did. And also (heavy speculation from untranslated chapters) it is kinda implied Teru became kinda "dark" after her sister died (also just the stuff she discussed with her grandfather about heros). I just want a whole conversation between them in which Teru presents her whole position. Ending with how she carries her sister in her heart, and so does his parents in his and the people they saved.

Also from what I calculate, Mei was in high school when Teru was born, so like 14 to 16 (I say 16 cuz that would make her the same age as Spirits). And she died when Teru was 11, so she was like 25 to 27. So I think it would have been neat if Aizawa had worked with Mei before. Mei also started as a hero very very young so that would be interesting.

Izuku, being the hero fan that he is, knows about Shine/Mei, and knows that Shy is Shine's successor, but doesn't know Teru is Shy. Queue interesting convo.

I don't know, there is so much that could happen. If I do write this, it will probably end at the kamino fight (idk what this arc is called)

#au #crossover #shy #bnha #shy and bnha #my crossover #shy manga

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