Chapter Text
Silence hung in the air, not even the wind swept through the world, leaving it morbidly….dead; That was the accurate term. Just a small while ago, the town was bustling, folks trading their goods among each other - Water especially being an expensive commodity within the sand mounds. People ran between houses, jugs of water atop their head, cradled in their arms in a chatting joy. A surprisingly successful town, for the middle of the wasteland, from the large spring that wrapped the town in a constant supply.
It didn't take a second.
The towns throats were torn through and through; Creatures of the Night gorging themselves full in the sweet, metallic guts of the helpless creatures. Not a scream could slip from the small town, blood soon dying the sands a deep crimson.
In the middle of it all was the dark skinned man, sat central to the extinct home. Holding a curved dagger, he twirled it sweetly between his fingers without a care to the beading sweetness that dribbled and added to the red sand. A camp fire was easily built up beside him, red and amber embers flickering to light up the town. Maroon eyes silently watched the corpse in front of himself; Young, male, short blond hair, and a limited amount of clothes, almost looking as if bandages were all that held him close. His skin matched closely to his own; an oddity, against any logic of where they were, the town found themselves pale, sickly, greedy…
This one. This one was familiar, and it let a sweet breath pass from his lips - Hand slowly grasping against his throat where the thick slash of claws cut off his circulation - But what caught his sights were the bulging scars standing out on his sin, much paler than the dark skin the boy held.Horizontal lines, smooth, from a blade. “..Hm.” Isaac slowly hummed to himself, lips parting in silence. It didn't stop him from continuing. The blade glistened under the moonlight, hand grasping to push him down onto his back, and the sharp edge pushed deep under the skin, permanently forcing through the flesh. The blood weakly squeezed itself through the wound, making it evident that not much was left in the boy. Just how he likes it. The knife easily slipped through the dark meat, perfectly cutting a vertical line through his chest, before the stomach, jerking diagonally.
Isaac barely moved through this process, the thick smell growing stronger, though he didn't bat an eye to it. The town already stank thickly of the remains of humans where a meal was made of them; Including this one. The knife dropped to his side, and his fingers forced into two sides of the wounds, flesh tightly wrapping around the digits in protest.
It was forced out; Tearing whilst strings of meat stuck to the ribs and chest of the boy, dripping in a slow ooze of blood onto his lap, where dried blood sticking to his skin like dirt. It left his chest open and exposed; Flesh covered ribs stuck and strung to the boy, battered and weak lungs curving in the shape of a heart for what fell center. Intestines peeked out at the Forgemaster, teasing him.
A sharpened bone forced through the chunk of flesh, holding it above the flickering fire, slowly burning the sides of the flesh. “..Hm..” Isaac hushed out for a second time, stench of longpig hitting him. “I like this one.” He commented in silence to himself, curving a sweetly sick smile. His free hand grabbed up the forging dagger; Jerking to shove through the chest with a red magic. Like thunder - It illuminated the sky in a crimson light, insights to the entirety of the desert through the darkness.
A new addition to his army; where of which, they would aid the quest he still holds dear. To remove the stench of humanity from the earth. It was what his Master would have wanted.
A week or longer - The hunter had been resting, laid upon a large, glamorous bed make from the finest of silks while bandages wrapped around his wounds and burns on the ever-so pale skin. Hector wasn't quite sure of if he was to wake up. He should, actually he should have a long time ago if everything about this was normal.
But it wasn't.
Dracula had drained the man down to the core, the Belmont had nearly died in that moment. He had been watching from the side - The way Dracula sank his fangs into the man's throat, it was almost beastial. Hector, at least, was glad the man had actually fed for once… but it didn't do good for this one. He was still fed Dracula’s blood like any normal blood bonding (At least to his knowledge), but the Hunter had only barely suckled onto the taste of blood, much like that of a newborn goat. The only real way to tell, now, that the Belmont hadn't died during the affair is the pair of fangs hidden beneath his lips, and the fact his body wasn't rotting nor dusting.
With any human signs, however; his skin was cold. He lacked a pulse. There was no breath coming through. The Forgemaster let out a slow sigh, pulling himself up to his feet swiftly with one glance down at the ex-hunter, and left the room to update Dracula on Trevor’s status. He had closed the door behind himself, walking down through small glances towards the barely-working blue lights.
The castle had not moved since its forced transportation to the Belmont estate. The cogs had burnt out, and most of the functions of the castle now refused to work. It was being worked on, of course, but for now his Night Creatures set off from the castle, and fewer corpses were being dragged in from the cities due to how far they were beginning to be; meaning, their army was slimming, even more so with no sign of Isaac. He had disappeared during the attack, and it made him ponder…
He kinda missed him. Just a little. He felt as if he was finally getting through to his fellow forgemaster, and perhaps, a real friendship may have formed. But that was postponed, maybe forever. Isaac may have died during the attack, his body hasn't been found as of yet, and Alucard barely talks, so instead, he just wondered over the possibility. Dracula does not have much to say on the topic, either.
Hector sighed, pulling up his glove silently with his gaze cast to the ground, steel eyes deep in thought; Interrupted by a smack against the wall. Hector cried out, struggling to look backwards towards…
Trevor had him by the wrists, the press into the wall softening through a sly smile, empty, whilst sea-blue eyes looked over him hungrily as if he was nothing more than a meal waiting for him. The vampire’s nose brushed in close against him, cold breath teasing his throat through a lowly chuckle. “I hope you don't mind. I am just feeling a little bit….peckish.” The ex-hunter hushed into his throat, and the cold fangs pierced sharply into Hector’s throat, and a jerk rushed through the forgemaster. His hands twisted against Trevor’s through a slow gasp. His lips were wrapped around the puncture marks, thoroughly sucking against the wound in a systematic suck and swallow of the thick, warm blood. The sting died down to a soft flutter of Hector’s stomach, relaxing into the embrace like a prey accepting its fate.
It wasn't like it felt...bad. The vampire was being gentle - Even if he had failed to feed for a good week within his slumber. Wait-- “B-Belmont-!” Hector gasped, his vision pulsating to fight against the leech, struggling against him. “We have c-canisters in storage! Stop that!” He scolded through a flushed breath.
Much to his surprise, Trevor actually tore himself away from his throat, slowly licking against the wound, and softening his grip to step backwards. He licked his lips clean, looking down at his clothes…’clothes’ with a slight grimnance. It was...mostly bandages, as well as a dirty pair of trousers. “Show me then, now.” He demanded from Hector, glancing up to him with a stone-still expression, and an empty smile. He was a shell of the man he used to be; that was for sure. He had not properly met the hunter before this affair, but… It was cold. Very cold.
“Right…” Hector uttered, looking warily at him, and took his turn to walk back through the halls.