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keeksandgigz · 8 months

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the witch hunt

eddie munson x witch!reader

part 2 of "the love witch"

Summary: You've been good about keeping your magic a secret from Eddie, much to your dismay, so diligent on hiding your true self. What happens when you leave your potion cabinet unattended, he drinks one of your concoctions and turns himself into stone, leaving you to turn him back, right in front of his eyes?

CW: 5k words, no y/n, reader's nickname is 'witchy' , talk of the occult, wiccan practices, description of r's clothing, but no body description, eddie turns to stone, angsty angst angst but with a happy ending, witchy casts some serious spells in this one, mentions of witchy being depressed, eddie being a lovesick fool

thank u to my lovely @reidsbtch for beta reading I love u I love u I love u

Read part 1 here, Witchyverse masterpost here

feedback is always appreciated!

You've been good. You've been diligent. You've been following the rules of the coven.

To not share the gift with anyone, a secret kept under oath, hand over the binding of an old spell book, its surface course and rough, centuries of hands- young, old, powerful and weak, all part of the history of how that book came to be.

When you started dating Eddie, you were summoned, warned by your coven to keep the magic away from your human boyfriend, hidden under a veil of thin shame disguised as indifference.

And six months went by, then a year. You thought you were safe, you thought you'd gotten through the worst part of keeping the secret.

You deluded yourself. He loves you so much, there's no reason he would leave you, not even for a secret as big as yours. You've put protection spells around everything that involved actual magic in your house, the potion cabinet you kept in the hallways as decoration, the spell books hidden under a floorboard in your room.

Although he could not feel it, your apartment pulsated with raw magical energy in its purest form. You really thought you were safe.

A rainy November afternoon, you're tasked to bring some ingredients you've had stashed at your apartment to your aunt Hilda's house, a delivery from Janice- ingredients from Bulgaria, after your shift.

What surprises you about your aunt Hilda is that despite being a witch, she does not go unnoticed- living in one of the Painted Ladies house in the heart of San Francisco, all by herself and her cat, Arsenio.

She always invites you in for tea and a reading, so you step into her house, smelling of antique parchment, tea leaves and a mystical smell of pungent resin and wood, much different from your incense and dried flowers smell.

"I need to invite Janice over one of these days" she says in her veiled voice, pouring you a cup of jasmine tea.

"I don't know if she's going to be able to get out of Haight Ashbury, Aunt Hilda. She's like two- hundred years old or something" you laugh, rummaging through your bag for the delivery you visited your aunt for, placing the jars on the table.

She gasps in delight "You can't get those plants anywhere else, she must have paid a fortune for that blood from a vampire's fangs" she squeals, running to her cabinet to find a home for her new deliveries.

"How's your human, dear?" she asks from the kitchen, followed by clattering of glass and metal.

"Oh, Eddie's fine, he should be off work soon, maybe we'll do something after" you shrug, petting her cat, Arsenio, on your lap.

"And his handsome hunk of an uncle?" you roll your eyes at that.

"God, Aunt Hilda, gross" you groan, sinking in your seat.

"Let me know when he's back in town, I need to invite them both over one of these days, it might be nice. Shall we do a reading before I leave?" she sits back down at the small table and takes a sip of her tea, tarot cards in hand.

"Yeah, I'll ask him for his schedule" you finish your tea "Let me do a one card pull, I need to get home"

"You know, dear, you've been awfully nervous lately- so jumpy" She says, as she shuffles the laminated cards for what feels like forever,

"I'm okay, Aunt Hilda, just stressed with work" you lie, exhaling with anticipation as her wrinkled hand holds the deck. Your aunt's readings have always made you nervous.

You'd been jumpy for a while, the thought of Eddie finding out had been making you nervous, but you wouldn't dare to tell your aunt that.

She offers the deck to you, you pick a card and then give it to her. A gasp escapes her upon looking at it.

A panic rises through your body "What? What is it?" you ask, your bag already across your shoulder, holding on to its strap.

"The Tower" she mutters, destruction, unexpected change, awakening.

A shiver runs down your spine, one by one your vertebrae straighten "I just had a really bad feeling, dear. I would check in on your human boy" she places a hand on her temple, heart racing as you bolt out of your seat and leave.

On the train, panic settles in, wondering if Eddie was somehow connected to this.

A call startles you. It's him.

You tremble when nearing the phone to your ear.

"Hey, witchy, I'm at your house- I used the spare key. I just called 'cause I had a question" he says, voice dubious and vague.

"What is it, Ed? I'm on my way home"

"I was just wondering if it's normal that the cabinet in your hallway is open? I had to stop Circe from getting into it a couple times" you hear a meowing in the background, he must be holding her.

"What cabinet?" you feel your chest rise and fall at an incredibly fast pace.

"The one with the wilted flowers on them, it has a bunch of bottles. Are- are these fake potions?" There's an amused lilt in his voice, almost as if he's laughing at you. Fuck. The potion cabinet.

"Eddie don't touch anything, I'm literally here" your alarmed tone freaks him out, but he has no time to say anything as you hang up and enter your apartment building.

You run up the stairs, heart in your throat, as you reach your front door and slam it open. Eddie's head swings violently.

"Hey, witchy, what's wrong?" he stands up from the cabinet, holding Circe on one arm. You're heaving, irregular breaths, as you see he's still standing, alive, and breathing.

You close the door. "You didn't touch anything in there, did you?" you run towards the open cabinet, checking for missing bottles.

"Witchy, honey, I don't get why you're so jumpy about a couple of fake potions, they would actually be really useful for DnD" Eddie chuckles, reaching into the cabinet to grab a bottle, observing it up close. A greyish- blue liquid swirls inside the bottle.

"Eddie! Put it back! It's dangerous!" you exclaim as you reach for the bottle, but he's blocking you.

"Baby, I think you might be getting a little too carried away with this witchy stuff. There's no way you should be reacting like this over some water and dye" he swirls the bottle once again "I'll even drink it, show you it's not actually that dangerous"

A smug smile adorns his lips, as you watch helplessly while he uncorks the small vial and downs its content.

“EDDIE NO” You aren’t even sure what it is, which makes a panic set into your stomach, hoping you could reverse whatever he ingested.

“No, no, no, no, what have you done?” your head encapsulated in your hands, feeling the beady sweat on your hairline, falling to your knees with the realization. You’re going to have to tell him.

“See? Not dangerous, baby. I love you, but you need to do something about this obsession, it’s getting out of hand” he sighs “I’m hungry i’m gonna get some food” but before he can even take a step, the rumbling of stone fills the room.

You grab the empty glass vial and examine its label. Shit. He turned himself to stone.

In a panic, he looks at you.

“Witchy, what’s going on?” his eyes dart from you to his frozen legs, the stone spreading itself upward quickly “Witch-what- is that stone?” He goes still after that.

A statue. His cold, grey eyes staring up at you in a panic.

Tears brimming your eyes at the sudden realization that once you turn him back to normal he’s going to know.

His hands feel cold at the touch as you cling on to your boyfriend’s statued form. Mouth agape, eyebrows pinched in fear, it hurt you to see him like this. You were going to lose it all because of a dumb mistake.

A desperate scream bubbles inside your chest as you hold yourself flush against Eddie’s cold surface, wishing his arms could hug you back, having to come to terms with the fact that this is probably the last time you’ll ever see him in your home. You won’t ever get to hold him again.

Weak and teary- eyed you reach for your phone, wiping under your eyes as you try to stabilize yourself.

“Hello, dear?” aunt Hilda says through the phone.

“Aunt Hilda I made a really terrible mistake” you sob, shoulders shaking with the violence of your hiccups.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” the concern is palpable through her voice.

“I left- left my potion cabinet open and Eddie-” another string of violent sobs follow, rumbled deep in your chest, shaking you to your very core.

“What happened to Eddie?” The question is cautious, though unfortunately you could feel the alarm and sternness in her voice.

“He turned to stone” you sigh, exasperated, letting yourself sink into the sofa.

“Stone? How did a human man turn to stone?” ever the help, your aunt exclaims.

A dramatic exhale you feel like you’ve been holding onto “I left my potion cabinet open and he- and he has a spare key” you sob- all your fault for letting your guard down, all your fault for letting yourself care for him so mindlessly.

“He got into it thinking they were all fake, I tried to- to stop him” a siffle stops you “he was trying to be funny” a string of sobs followed, unable to speak any longer.

“You need to pull yourself together,” Hilda says, amidst your inconsolable sobs “you know how to reverse this” her voice is stern, yet shaky, she feels for you, having to let your love go.

“The mirror” you mumble.

“That’s right, get a mirror- circle of reflection, circle of protection” she reminds you “repeat those words, he’ll be okay, dear” you can tell that she is hurting, breaking the law of your coven, making you face consequences you haven't even thought of.

Would you be losing your power? Would you have to move away from him? In hindsight that would be a blessing, as you doubt he would want to stay, now that your secret is uncovered.

Hilda hangs up the phone as you scramble to get a mirror, and smear salt over his heart. Trying to reverse the spell that might have broken it.

The mirror faces your boyfriend, his features grey and scared- the last time you’ll ever see him in this lifetime.

Circle of reflection, circle of protection

The hand that is not holding the mirror is clutched on tightly to his chest, as you keep repeating the words.

The sound of rubble breaking makes your heart wrench, selfishly wanting him to stay a statue for a little longer, so you won’t have to say goodbye to him just yet, but the stone armor sheds, and his eyes are brown instead of dull and grey, and his arms move, as well as his mouth, closing in itself, breathing as if he’s come to life for the first time.

He rubs his eyes first, drowsy, like waking up from a one- hundred year old slumber. He looks around the room, it’s familiar to him, the smell of incense that was there, and then it wasn’t, blocked by the earthy smell of rubble and earth.

“What happened?” he mumbles, shaking his stiff limbs, kicking the broken suit of stone armor at his feet, your hand still on his heart “Witchy?”

His eyes are blown wide, memories of what had happened an hour before coming to the surface. The same panicked look adorns his face.

“The potion- it wasn’t” he begins, as you move your hand off of his body, much to your heart’s dismay. You shake your head.

“It wasn’t fake. None of them are fake” you mutter, staring at the floor, not even daring to look at him. There’s a quiet tension, an almost awkward silence, charged with pain and heartbreak, as Eddie realizes what you mean by ‘not fake.’

“And you brought me back from whatever I turned into” he breathes.

You just nod, head fixated on the floorboards and the rubble surrounding his feet.

“Does that make you-” he gulps. Can’t even bring himself to say it.

“A witch” you mumble under your breath “a real one,” your gaze falls on his eyes, dilated and sad, as his eyebrows curve up, a line forming on the bridge of his nose.

There’s once again an unsettling quiet between you two, as he tries to wrap his head around the news.

His chest feels hollow, where your hand had been just moments before, an unrecognizable phantom pressing down on his heart, rubbing salt in a gashing wound, hoping it would ameliorate it, only to make it bleed more.

He takes a few steps back, watching his step over the rubble, breaking his silence after what feels like hours.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” it’s a mere mumble, but the question was clear, hurt, and a little scared, maybe.

“I swore under oath that I would keep it a secret” you purse your lips, taking a step forward. Your heart shatters when he takes a step back.

His chest is stilled, breath caught in his throat, hands at his sides as he scoffs.

“You swore you’d keep it a secret? Is that why you’ve been so jumpy lately? You knew I was bound to find out and you didn’t tell me?” his head is reeling, betrayal cuts through him like a knife as more and more of looking at you twists the dagger in his chest.

“I didn’t want you to find out, Ed. I promised to my coven-”

“Your coven? There’s more of you?” you can’t do anything else but swallow on the knot in your throat, scratching and engorging with every word that comes out of Eddie’s mouth, and nod.

“And you let me drink the potion, God knows what it could have been” he trembles, a shaky breath escapes him.

“I tried to stop you, Eddie!” you reach for him, hanging on the feeble hope he’ll realize that you have never meant to hurt him in the first place.

“And- and what if you spelled me, huh? What if you spelled me to make me fall in love with you? Is my love for you not real?” that hurt you more than anything else he could have said, tears brimming your eyes, escaping from their confinement as they streak down your cheeks.

“I’ve never used my magic on you,” you admit, voice thick with salty tears “my love for you is real, as yours is. I never tampered with your heart, it’s not who I am” bottom lip jutted out and trembling, feeling on the teetering edge of the end.

“I don’t know who you are” a stab to the heart would have hurt less. “You’ve been lying to me for the past year about who you are. No wonder I was so in love with you, you made me fall in love with a person that doesn’t exist, you spelled me!” he’s trembling, you can see it in the way that his fists are balled up– something he does to stabilize himself whenever he’s upset.

And now he’s upset because of you.

“Eddie–” you take a step forward, he takes a step back.

“No. Don’t- don’t come closer.” tears well at the bottom of your lash line, as you watch him turn away, leave and close the door behind him. Words trapped at the bottom of your throat. Words you’ll never get to say again.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, staring at the doorknob, hoping that it might turn, revealing Eddie once again, ready for you to explain everything to him.

But the doorknob doesn’t turn, the door doesn’t open, and Eddie doesn’t come back.

You refuse to sweep the rubble from the last time he was in your apartment, hoping that the smell of him stuck to the cold stone, but there’s nothing left of him in your space.

The thing about love witches is that when the thing most precious to them, their hearts, break, the life force of their power fades.

So within a short span of days, you notice yourself being weakened. Simple spells become a hard feat, as you can barely make things levitate, sitting in the darkness of your room.

Days begin to merge into themselves, as you get yourself to work, then home, then work, then home. A repeating cycle you don’t intend to stop. You leave around the back side of the store, to not let Eddie see you while he’s on his smoke break, blending into the crowded streets of what once seemed like the best place in the world.

Your aunt Hilda doesn’t hear from you, and neither does anyone else. You fall off the face of the earth, hoping that your hours never coincide with Eddie’s.

But you can feel it from next door, the pain and hurt that radiates from the record store. You feel it in the way he speaks to customers, in the way he sighs as he gets off his smoke break.

You hear him ask Janice about you, she tells him that she doesn’t know, that she hasn’t seen you in a while. Respecting your wishes to let him live his life in peace.

But he wasn’t living his life in peace. In fact, Eddie was miserable.

He was miserable in the way that everything reminded him of you, in the way that if he stepped too close to your store (to make sure you were working that day), he’d smell the rose incense you’d light at your house. The one he would smell on your clothes.

The crystals that sat on his windowsill were now tightly packed and shoved away on a far up shelf that he would not be reminded of you. He burned every trace of you, the taste of betrayal bitter in his throat as he sat on his couch every night, always on the left side, because you sat on the right. A place for you was always carved in his mind, whether it was unconscious or intentional.

The smell of your shampoo lingers in the pink bottles in his shower, in the silk pillow you always slept on when you went over to his house. A silk shirt you left on his bed, gingerly placed on his pillow as he lets your smell engulf him. That’s the only way he can sleep.

There’s a fear deeply setting in, that he might just never be able to get over you. Despite the lies and the secrets, he will never be able to not think about you, not when the smell of rose incense or the color pink exist, not when long skirts and crystals and tarot cards and brocade rugs exist. Not when you exist. Not when you keep walking the earth, sadness seeping in every crevice and every crack of his walls.

He knows he can’t go on like this. Not while you roam the same streets he roams, waiting for you to turn around. Look at me, witchy, look at me.

And you’re so sad. He can see it in your eyes, in the way you don’t carry yourself like you used to– shoulders slouched, dressed in black like you’re mourning the loss of your heart. Mourning the loss of your love.

He debates going back to Hawkins for a bit. Going back to live with his uncle– leave this new world behind, just until the air has been purified of you. Until he’s no longer thinking about the witchy girl who haunts his dreams at night. Go work where his friend Steve works at, shitty, dead- end job, just for a bit.

Confine himself to the life of a hermit, just so he can allow you to live in peace.

So he goes back to Hawkins, under the guise of going home for the holidays. He picks up whatever jobs his uncle can’t do anymore because of his age, driving the beat up yellow pick- up truck in and out of town.

“I never thought I’d see the day Munson would come crawling back” he’d hear a couple of people say on the street. He’s never gone unnoticed, but now more so than before– integrated in the San Francisco scene, he did anything but blend in. And he swears he sees you a few times, walking around downtown Hawkins, your hair, your clothes, your bag. Prancing around like your life is back to normal.

Could it have been a spell? Did you spell him to not make him forget about you?

But he knows it isn’t like you. Not malicious, not even as a witch, he assumes.

He keeps himself up at night thinking about you. You’d never use magic on him. With a sound mind, he tells himself that’s true. Your love for him is real. Is his love for you real? Shivering in the freezing temperature of his uncle’s trailer he’d ponder whether what you had was real or not.

Real.

He drives himself crazy, the thought of you plaguing his mind.

Even his uncle grows worried, the purple bags under his nephew’s eyes, all the books on witchcraft Eddie could find at the Hawkins local library sitting on his desk. Staying up to read on anything and everything that could help him.

And when that doesn’t work he goes on his uncle’s shitty wifi he never uses to research anything about witches, about magic, about you.

You don’t sense him anymore. Not through the walls, not in his sardonic laugh. It’s like he’d vanished into thin air.

You find yourself stepping into the record store after a shift, asking his shitty coworkers what happened to Eddie.

And you’re so weak. So tired, it is even a feat to be able to make it through one full shift standing up, finding a stool to sit on. You’ve paled, eyes dark and lifeless.

“He’s gone back home for the holidays” one of the assholes who made fun of you says “left you stranded here all by yourself? Or did he kick you to the curb?” he smirks, and the other idiot laughs. You make a mental note to hex them for good next time.

If you don’t die first.

Eddie comes back to San Francisco after the holidays, and it’s like he’s never left.

Union Square has taken off the tree and the ice skating rink– he wanted to take you there. He thought you’d be good at ice skating. You’re good at everything. Or maybe it’s because you’re magic.

The restaurant you went to on your first date has closed down. There’s a smile creeping on his face as he remembers you laughing because he couldn’t eat with chopsticks. He misses hearing you laugh. He misses seeing you smile.

The tiny twinkle, the stars in your eyes. The way he’d braid your hair at night. Petting Circe, nestled in between you two in your bed.

He sees you for the first time since he’s been back on the porch of your shop. His heart shrinks at the sight of you. Eyes sunken in, buried in layers and layers of woolen fabric, staring blankly at the street in front of you.

The thing about love witches is that when the thing most precious to them, their hearts, break, the life force of their power fades.

He remembers reading that in an old looking book during the holidays. He wrote it down in his notebook.

A love witch. Thrives on being loved and being in love.

Her heart is only safe when her love is true and unfettered.

He sees it now.

He shows up to your house after talking himself into it for a week, with the excuse of returning a shirt. The same silk shirt he’d been sleeping on top of since he left you. He had it washed for you. It doesn’t smell like you anymore.

He knocks. Is it him or are his hands always that sweaty? Is his heart beating at a normal pace? Is his hair okay? And his breath? Oh shit, he has a zit on his chin.

“Go away Aunt Hilda!” he hears you say, grumpy and grouchy. The veiled sadness in your voice creates a rift between him and the door.

So he knocks. Again. And Again.

“Aunt Hilda I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, I don’t want– Eddie” A breath gets trapped in your diaphragm, feeling your heart start picking up its pace for the first time in what felt like weeks.

“Hi” he gives you a tight smile, the silk balled up in a fist, purple with little black swirls on it.

“Hi, um, I– what are you doing here? Do you wanna come in?” you slither like a worm, that’s how you feel. The boy you’ve been pining and crying and suffering for is here. Right in front of you.

You look so much more frail than he’d remembered “I uh–” he holds up the fabric “you left this at my house”

“Oh, thanks. That’s sweet of you” Your heart drops, you really thought he was going to make amends with you?

You extend your arm, so he can give the shirt to you. So he can be on his way and be gone forever.

Hands, fingers, knuckles. He misses holding your hand.

“I heard you went home for the holidays, how was that?” you lean on the doorframe, hands crossed on your chest.

“It was good, I just spent it with my uncle. He told me to tell you happy new year, uh— even though we’re not—” he shouldn’t have said the last part, he sees you sink into yourself, gazing down at the hardwood floor. His stomach twists.

“What did you do for the holidays?” he asks. He doesn’t want it to be over, not yet.

“I just stayed in, I’ve been pretty sick lately, flu season in full swing. I’ve just been—”

“Your heart’s broken, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been so sick?” your heart drops. How does he know all this?

He reads your puzzled expression “I um— did some research. That’s what I did most of my holidays. I just wanted to understand. I know you didn’t spell me, or whatever. You’re a love witch” he takes out a piece of paper, highlighted is a sentence, in light pink.

Her heart is only safe when her love is true and unfettered.

Your head is reeling, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. He spent his holidays researching you, your kind. He knows you didn’t lie to him.

Tears begin to spill onto the old parchment, the tears you haven’t shed in the past two months resurfacing, as you violently jerk and sob in front of him. You missed him.

Eddie quickly steps into your apartment and closes the door, enveloping you in a hug. And it feels good for your heart, a soothing balm for all the cracks and wounds it’s suffered.

“It’s okay, witchy, you can let it out” he says, as you continue to sob on his shoulder. Soft shushing sounds as he caresses your hair “Shhh…shhh… I’ve got you” and it’s like he’s never left.

“I’m here now, I’m not leaving” his assurance makes your body feel whole again. He sits you both down on the couch.

“Witchy, I didn’t stop thinking about you for a second. I would see you everywhere, I thought I was going crazy” he begins, and maybe he sees a twinkle in your eye, something weak, almost like a heartbeat being revived.

“I thought going to Hawkins, just to distance myself would change things. But I’d keep myself awake thinking about you, all the time, wondering if you were doing okay.” His hand brushes yours, as you wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweater.

“I would see you at work, or out and about and you looked so sad. And I just couldn’t explain to myself what happened to you, until I came across that book” he finishes.

And in turn, you don’t say anything, you just kiss him. It’s wet and messy with the tears and the saliva, but he immediately kisses you back, cradling your face in his hand. Your heart beats faster than it has in a while, and it’s like magically, your skin has a bit more color to it.

And Eddie sees the stars in your eyes again.

When you detach you just lay your head on his chest. You listen for his heartbeat, lulling you into a deep sleep, the best sleep you’ve had in two months. He follows you not soon after, Circe on his lap, as he falls into slumber with a peaceful smile on his face.

Once awoken from your sleep, you go make a cup of tea for the both of you.

“Witchy?” your head lifts at the nickname as you pour him his tea.

“So, are you a witch, a mage or a sorceress?”

You just roll your eyes and kiss him again.

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dalekofchaos · 12 days

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Vampyr sequel idea

I thought of going the LIS route of having different stories for each story of the franchise. But after carefully analyzing the game, doing my Embrace everyone playthrough and noticing a certain portrait in the Ashbury Castle. I figured out the perfect story and perfect antagonist for Vampyr 2.

Jacob Blackwood.

For those who don't know, let me explain.

In The West End, you meet Carina Billow, a woman who's mind has been destroyed by a powerful Vampire. Manipulated into eating rats to gain immortality. At first I thought it was just the Ascalon Club fucking with a mentally ill woman. But it's worse.

Carina is being mentally manipulated by a powerful vampire, forcing her to do awful things. She will actually beg you to kill her to put her out of her misery, and will thank you for your kindness if you kill her.

Earlier in the game when Jonathan asks Lady Ashbury about the bodies that have been found in the streets and about how someone seems to be following him (before we know its Mary), she seems anxious and has someone in mind. Most likely she fears Jacob Blackwood has been watching Jonathan, taking an interest.

Blackwood only speaks through Carina Billow once, mildy warning Jonathan off his "toy" but he does not seem to care enough about his little game to actually stop her being embraced. Evidence of his presence occurs when you visit the grave of Carina and find he has piled dead rats all over the poor woman's resting place - one last act of disrespect. I tend to think that doing this is both for his own amusement and a message to Jonathan that he has taken notice. Carina Billow's information when she is embraced suggests Blackwood maybe a member of Ascalon, it might have been interesting to meet him there.

And when you get to the very end of the game inside the Ashbury castle, one of the paintings on the wall was of Elisabeth Blackwood (Lady Ashbury) and Jacob Blackwood.

And when you read William Marshall's old tome before you reach the end of the game, you can see that Marshall holds Blackwood in contempt.

Jacob Blackwood is an interesting character and I wish they had given him more space in the story because it fleshes Elisabeth out a bit, gives her a backstory you can learn about as you get to know her and makes her a more rounded person with her own motivations. So when you get the first of the bad endings and she says "you have betrayed me", you get an idea of why she might react that way - rather than a lot of players being confused.

He definitely has the blood of hate. Blackwood was created after Elizabeth was bitten by Marshal and the two ranged across Europe killing for their own amusement. Even if he was created before Elizabeth has the blood of hate, it is highly likely he would have contracted it anyway. There is the possibly that he was always a bastard though. Perhaps not all the frenzied skals in the city came from Harriet Jones, maybe a few came from him returning to London.

There is so much potential in Jacob Blackwood in a hypothetical sequel. Jacob has the blood of hate, while Jonathan and Elisabeth are working for a cure. So much potential.

So a way to go about it is this.

If you chose the Embrace no one path, embrace some or embrace everyone.

If Jonathan and Elisabeth travel the world. They hear horror stories throughout Europe. Jonathan thinks it's some Ekon gone mad, but Elisabeth knows the truth. Jacob is back and the potential for another Disaster is strong. Their mission is to kill Jacob and find a cure for the blood of hate

If Jonathan and Elisabeth lock themselves in the castle. They spend years working on a cure and that's when Myrddin appears. He tells Jonathan about Jacob and Elisabeth is horrified. They know what they have to do. End the blood of hate

Jonathan embraces one too many people and Elisabeth dies in the "betrayal" ending. Jonathan locks himself away, that's when Myrddin appears. He warns Jonathan of Elisabeth's loose thread. He is causing atrocities across the land and is on the verge of creating a new Disaster. Jonathan will end the blood of hate once and for all for Elisabeth

Jonathan embraces everyone. Jonathan's bloodlust knows no bounds. Jonathan intends to build an empire on blood and there is one person standing in his way, Jacob Blackwood. It's an all out war between Reid and Blackwood and World War II is their battleground. Reid uses the Allies, while Blackwood uses the Nazis.

Ideally I would set the game during WWII with Jacob taking a position with the Nazis or Vichy France, and he uses the war to commit atrocities and spread the blood of hate like a plague.

I'd also have McCullum return. The Guard is reestablished, but it's clear that Reid and McCullum have to put aside their differences to stop Blackwood. Plus I'd just love the idea of Jonathan and McCullum basically saying "Look we have our differences as a Vampire and Hunter, but we draw the line at fucking Nazis"

As for how the Brotherhood of St Paul would return. If you let Swansea bled out/embraced him, then Usher Talltree would be your main ally from the brotherhood. But if you turned Swansea, Swansea would return and would be a very questionable ally.

aka I just want a game of Jonathan killing Nazis and Jacob Blackwood using Nazis to fulfill his goals but also embracing their ideals.

Bonus points. Jacob wears a Vichy France uniform or SS uniform just to drive home the fact that he's a fucking monster.

#Vampyr #Vampyr 2 #Jacob Blackwood #Jonathan Reid #Dr Jonathan Reid #Elisabeth Ashbury #Lady Ashbury #Ashreid #Mcreid #Geoffrey McCullum #Edgar Swansea #Usher Talltree

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tagarfa-art · 11 months

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Since today is Bram Stoker’s birthday also known as an International Vampire day, I would like to share some corresponding fanart and a couple of OC’s.

1. Astarion from Baldur’s Gate 3.

2. Jonathan Reid from Vampyr.

3. Lady Elizabeth Ashbury from Vampyr.

3. Mary Reid from Vampyr.

4. My OC from a novel in process.

5. Another OC from the novel mentioned above.

These two last ladies are not vampires in a traditional sense but still they are close to the topic.

#fanart #portrait #digital art #vampire #vampyr #jonathan reid #Mary Reid Vampyr #International Vampire Day #Astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #vampires #procreate #games tag #oc #vampcore

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vermutandherring · 2 years

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Warning: This article contains images of violence and blood.

The first part of the review: ORIGINS The third part of the review: WHERE ART IS HIDDEN

There are small spoilers that do not reveal the plot of the game, but only separately highlight certain moments in the game.

This is the second part of my review on Vampyr, in which I talk about the plot and its construction.

Due to russia's attacks, the time to use electricity is getting shorter. It deprives me of both writing time and inspiration (greetings from Ukraine). Anyway, someone tagged my previous Vampyr review as a long read. I know it's a little too much for Tumblr, but sometimes I feel like if I don't dissect a game I've played, these thoughts will eat away at my brain. So this is the second of 3 parts dedicated to Vampyr, namely to its plot.

At the first immersion in the game, which occurs even at the stage of reading the annotation, the plot may seem a bit dry. Doctor Jonathan Reid returns from the war to quarantined London, overflowing with mass graves of citizens who died from the Spanish flu. Now, trying on a new role as a vampire, he must investigate the causes of the spread of the disease and find out what happened to him on the way home. To do this, having enlisted the support of the vampire Lady Ashbury and Dr. Swansea, Jonathan will have to fight against vampire aristocrats, devout vampire hunters and his own nature torn by contradictions.

If you remove all the vampire fleur, the plot will resemble novels with stories about loan sharks, lawyers, bureaucracy, promissory notes and securities, dragged by the smog of industrial cities of the XIX century. In addition, in the center of the story is a military doctor (doesn't it remind you of anything?), that is, a representative of a whole 'broken generation' that saw human cruelty in all its manifestations on the battlefields of the First World War. If you want to imagine the state of people at that time just for a second, look at the works of the artist Otto Dix, who went through this hell himself. Or spend one evening on Twitter, browsing posts with the Ukraine tag. By this I mean that the protagonist of Vampyr is a traumatized character with some issues. More precisely, it could be like that. But back to the in-game story.

I like the approach to plot selection. It is not simply included in the chronological framework of the era, but is closely related to the real events of the covered period of time. Because of this, even the main character himself seems like a historical figure, which led me to read about blood transfusions and when this method was actually discovered. Answering this question, blood transfusion was invented long before 1918, and is used by Stoker as a way to save the bloodless Lucy. And the very decision to make a vampire a doctor, tying the plot on it, is truly brilliant. This duality of Jonathan's new nature presents the player with a dilemma from the start: to allow the protagonist to honorably keep the Hippocratic Oath while grasping for scraps of humanity, or to place its remains on the altar for the sake of achieving the goal at any cost.

It is worth saying right away that the first option is more difficult. Quenching your thirst (i.e. killing characters) will give Jonathan a lot of experience which you can use to improve your vampire skills and level up. But with each life taken, Dr. Reid will become less and less like himself. Saving the lives of potential victims will not benefit you in itself. To do this, you will have to spend on quests, the completion of which will give you the desired experience points. But don't take it as a boring burden. The tasks from the townspeople are mostly interesting and what is most important - reveal not only their characters, but also Jonathan's vampiric side.

In the previous part, I already mentioned the restraining power of morality, borrowed from Christianity through the lens of Stoker. But the writer uses morality on the contrary, as a driving force, as an idea that drives the characters to save a dear person and cleanse the world of Dracula. In Vampyr, morality seems like a safety net, keeping you as Jonathan from making a mistake. Often, in attempts to 'solve the problem' of another character, I stopped at the question: do I have the right to this? Does Jonathan have the right to take away mortal life and give eternal life? Do I have the authority to judge the rightness of someone's actions when I am the one who does evil? After all, Jonathan is an ordinary vampire, not a deity. And it's not just my guilty conscience. Your acquaintances tell you about it to your face, or these messages slip through the dialogues themselves. And even if you want to play a good doctor, you should remember that everyone has their own definition of good. My first decisions in the game were terrible, although I believed that I was doing the right thing and in good conscience, satisfying all sides of the conflict. As we know, you can't please everyone.

But do not perceive your choice as a mistake, and its consequences as a bad ending. After all, life is about choices and their consequences. In the game you do not have the opportunity to return to a certain point and roll everything back. The plot of the game and the story of the main character flow like life, which cannot be begged to be given another chance. But you can always look back to think about how to fix mistakes. Depending on the chosen path, taking into account all your decisions and summing up the amount of blood drunk, the game will reward you as you deserve. This is much more than I could expect from a game of this caliber.

Returning to the main character, our Doctor Reid is not deprived of 'exclusivity syndrome'. Before the events of the game, Jonathan was already known in scientific circles as a skilled doctor and surgeon. In the world of medicine, he is a superstar, as the very first chapter of the game makes us understand. And it is on these stellar shoulders with an exceptional mindset that the sweet gift of vampirism and the heavy burden of saving the homeland falls.

On the one hand, I am somewhat annoyed by the concept of 'exclusivity' of the character. Think how many titles you have in Skyrim that are mutually exclusive, not to mention that you are humanity's last hope for salvation. Think of all the games you've played - in most of them, your main character almost changes the fate of the entire universe. For no apparent reason, just because. The first to change this concept for me was Cyberpunk 2077. Although you are fighting global evil in the form of corporations and their expansion, your 'avatar' is a small cog that has a chance to remain the same at the end of the game (I say this because I got the most stupid ending). But Vampyr approaches this question in a balanced way. The plot quite logically explains why the superstar-surgeon-vampire-champion Jonathan is the chosen one to save England and why only he can do it. As I said in the first part of my review, the game will definitely answer this question at the end. And the answer rests on one of the pillars of the game - science.

The already mentioned concept of the character's dualistic nature and the connection of the plot to the real events of the past allow the game to stand firmly on its feet. This allows you to combine various aspects of the game layout into a single logical whole. First of all, we have a fairly 'realistic' reason for the development of events, supported by historical facts. In Vampyr disease doesn't just hinder our progress toward the truth. It is part of the truth that the player must reach. The beginning gives a rather vague explanation of what is happening. Against this background, the behavior of people also seems strange, because it is not completely clear whether they are aware of the existence of vampires. The game does not go into excessively fantastic explanations of what is happening. But it leaves them a little far from our understanding, as the idea of primitive people about the state of things in the world. It makes one feel as if such a thing really happened, and the ambiguity of the explanation of the phenomenon of vampirism is as much a logical fallacy as the logical gaps in the Bible (I still consider myself a believer).

Secondly, the detective style of the story is a good motivation for completing the plot. Jonathan's professional experience allows him to draw rational conclusions to match his meticulous mind. And oh wonder! This is not inconsistent with the fact that we have a story about vampires here. Thirdly, the attempt to give the story realism is also followed in the attempts of the developers to explain some minor game moments. Can you shoot a gun? Even the small revolver that Jonathan uses weighs not so little. Besides, it is not enough just to be able to pull the trigger. You have to know how to aim and consider the return. The average doctor hardly knows all these subtleties. But in the hands of Jonathan, a doctor who went through the war, the weapon does not cause dissonance. At least a firearm…

Influenza is also an explanation for why Jonathan wanders around at night and asks the people of London why they themselves are not sitting at home at night. This is an insignificant detail that should not be paid attention to at all. But the game tries to remain rational until the end.

From all of the above, it may seem that in terms of plot, everything in the game is perfect from start to finish. But it is not quite so. Let's go back to the first paragraph, where I argued that Jonathan is a representative of the war-traumatized generation. In fact, the game squeezes very little out of it. Only in a few dialogues does Dr. Reid mention this experience. We also see some of his flashbacks, which present the protagonist as a dedicated doctor, ready to go to the end. In this case, the arc of the character, which can turn Jonathan into a bloodthirsty beast with your good will, seems somewhat illogical. How can a person who has seen oceans of blood, seas of human tears and their suffering come down the path of a ruthless monster? He is either subconsciously a maniac or a weak-willed person, although his military experience proves otherwise.

Also, as I mentioned in the first part of the review, Jonathan has very progressive views at the time. He does not look like a haughty nobleman and treats all patients equally; he supports the emancipation of women and respects them; does not condemn same-sex or interracial relationships. Today, after years of struggle, all of the above is normal. For the beginning of the XX century, this is a little too much. I'm not saying it's implausible and destroys Jonathan as a character. But he is too perfect a man, whom I personally did not dare to destroy with the curse of vampirism. Maybe that Marty Stu effect smooths the plot a bit. Regardless of the path he chooses, Jonathan still goes through his character arc. You either overcome the thirst, keeping everything human in you, or you allow the new nature to consume you.

In this part of the review, I tried to explain why Vampyr has a really interesting and original plot, which among all modern works about vampires could be a kind of classic. It has a great premise, good motivation for the main character, moderately gothic and fantasy, but at the same time not overloaded with magical silliness. The narrative is neat and logical, and most importantly, interesting, full of drama and poetry (more on that in the next chapter). The story of the game allows you to develop your own vision of the character's story, bringing it to a predetermined ending.

Looking at the game on Steam or the Wiki page, you will see reviews about the mediocrity of the game, the weakness of the combat system, the heavily modified original source, out-of-place face animations, weak graphics and, of course, bugs, lags and freezes. Because of this, I deliberately avoid some boyish view of the game, focused on leveling and crafting, on digging to the smallest detail and complaining about 58 FPS instead of 60. I want to say that each game in terms of content's depth outweighs some quantitative indicators and I advise you to take a game (at least Vampyr) first and foremost as a work of art, not a battery-operated doll. In art criticism, you will not find a five-point rating scale for a painting or a rating of the best sculptors. After all, each work is unique, and in order to prove why it is bad or good, you need to qualitatively analyze its "means of expression". This time, I laid out the plot of the game on the shelves (at least for myself). In the next part, I will try to find something about the visual component, a little about the drama and, of course, the music, in order to finally reveal the essence of this game.

I wrote the review in a hurry, trying to make it to the next power outage. I apologize for all the mistakes, circumlocutions and perhaps not very clear constructions of sentences.

#gaming #video games #videogames #vampire game #horror games #video game review #games art #vampire #vampire aesthetic #vampyr #jonathan reid #dracula #my articles

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undeadunalive · 1 year

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@normaltothemax ∣ 🦸‍♂️

The undead physician still lamented what Lady Ashbury had told him in the first few weeks of his embrace. How she couldn't see why other Ekons wouldn't be as amiable as her -- - yet how wrong she'd been. Most of the fellow Ekons and other vampires that Jonathan had met had been anything but pleasant, as was the Vulkod that seemed to have followed him. Though this time, Jonathan hadn't been alone.

"Go! Get out of here... now!" The Brit called to Jace as he instinctively stood between him and the hulking beast that appeared on a nearby ledge, the creature standing at over 8 feet tall, all muscle and brutality before it dropped to the ground with a loud thud in front of them. There was no way around it, he couldn't wait. Suddenly, Jonathan paused, his right hand raising at his side as darkness crept from beneath him, moving to swirl around the other creature. As he lifted his hand, the darkness grew, seeping into the air, suddenly grasping the Vulkod by his arms and legs, launching him upwards as though he weighed nothing at all, holding him still as he thrashed, trying to get loose. Jonathan's hand clasped shut as it lifted into the sky, the darkness growing even more, a spike suddenly rising from below, piercing through the creature as he let out a pained cry. As quick as it began, the Ekon lowered his hand, the darkness creeping away, vanishing into the ground, dropping the lifeless being.

Turning to Jace, he panted a little from the effort, not being at his strongest due to starving himself of blood for such long periods of time. "Are you all right?" He hurried with genuine concern. "Are you hurt?"

#normaltothemax #𝐈𝐂:#𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑:#𝓥𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓮 | 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 ( 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 )

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the-goth-catte · 1 year

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[ BLACK MASS @ PANDEMONIO || 0 1 . 2 9 . 2 3 ]

Lights of Euphoria - Wicked Game SITD - Atemlos Pixel Grip - ALPHAPUSSY Vanguard - Ragnarok KANGA - Going Red Marsheaux - To The End Ashbury Heights - Smaller KMFDM vs Front 242 - Professional Headhunter Beastie Boys - Intergalactic (Dunisco Remix) Daft Punk - Harder Better Faster Stronger (Nemix Remix) Accessory - Ruff Fuxxx Sisters of Mercy - Lucretia (Dogstarr’s Reflection) Siouxsie and the Banshees vs Revolting Cocks - Happy House of Horny Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart (TEE mix) KMFDM - Megalomaniac Ghost - Dance Macabre (Carpenter Brut Mix) Ayria - My Revenge on the World Suicide Commando - Hellraiser (Agonoize Remix) Covenant - Stalker (Club Version) Celldweller - Heart On (Aesthetic Perfection Mix) Icon of Coil - PerfectSex (XP8 Mix) Endanger - Blood Red Roses Noisuf X - Finish Him! SITD - The Devil’s Tongue Apoptygma Berzerk - Unicorn (Fairlight Children Mix) SPOCK - Never Trust a Klingon (Verfluchte Mix) TaTu - Not Gonna Get Us (Handz-Up Trance) Dua Lipa - Physical (Sagi Kariv Remix) Selena Gomez - Lose You to Love Me (Mor Abrahami Remix) David Guetta - I’m Good James Hype, Miggy Dela Rosa - Ferrari (Br3ndel Mix) VNV Nation - Chrome (SITD Mix) And One - Techno Man Ministry - Everyday is Halloween (DJ RiB mix) Apoptygma Berzerk - Love Never Dies KMFDM - Juke Joint Jezebel 3TEETH - You Spin Me Round Cruxshadows - Marilyn, My Bitterness Mechanical Moth - Black Queen Style Reaper - The Devil is Female Rotersand - Grey (Light Grey) In Strict Confidence - Promised Land Meg Myers - Breaks My Back (All These Damn Vampires mix) Siouxsie and the Banshees - Cities in Dust Clan of Xymox - She’s Dangerous Peter Murphy - The Prince and Old Lady Shade The 69 Eyes - Gothic Girl HIM - Wings of a Butterfly Ghost - Mary on a Cross Suicide Commando - Attention Whore Combichrist - This is My Rifle Faderhead - Dirtygrrls Dirtybois Covenant - Dead Stars (Club Mix) Health - Blue Monday Powerman 5000 - Black Lipstick Apoptygma Berzerk - Backdraft (Kill The Lights Mix by Codex Empire) Ashbury Heights - Phantasmagoria Hocico - Fed Up Neuroticfish - Agony (Assemblage 23 mix) Mental Discipline - WDYWFM VNV Nation - Beloved (Mix) Garbage - #1 Crush Dead Can Dance - The Ubiquitous Mr Lovegrove The Cramps - Goo Goo Muck

#pandemonio #setlist #8 bit witch

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dottiechan · 3 years

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Tempest (Pt. 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Read on AO3

Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 2177

Warnings: mentions of death, smoking

Summary: Ava’s handler has information that will turn her lengthy mission upside down - along with her heart.

Lady Ashbury’s parlour, London, 1898

“You’re ridiculously torpid this afternoon, Ava.”

The hostess’ words ring clear in her ear and she almost flinches - not like the others can hear them. Nate has taken it upon himself to entertain Lady Ashbury’s guests when Ava turned even more sullen and laconic than she usually would in a setting such as this. Afternoon tea wasn’t exactly her scene after all. Nor was being parted from the private detective in such a hurried, unplanned manner as the invitation that simply could not be refused was thrust upon her this morning by a note from Lady Ashbury. Letters such as that hold no importance to her at all normally. She doesn’t socialise. She doesn’t attend parties, or put on a show for the sake of being thought of as ‘pleasant,’ whatever that is supposed to mean these days.

But it would have been impossible to ignore her handler’s request.

“You said it was urgent, Lady Ashbury.” Ava folds her arms almost petulantly as she gazes out the window, refusing to look at the older vampire clad in a divine tea gown of showy green silk and soft cotton frills.

“Had I known this lengthy assignment would make you so surly, I would have invited you to my gatherings more often.” The sentence passes from the socialite’s parted red lips, and the corners of her mouth twitch upward in a way Ava can’t help but feel secretly mocked. “Oh, don’t frown like that! Or else we will all die of your ennui. I have great news, great news indeed! But I see no reason why we shouldn’t have an equally pleasant afternoon to ourselves before we talk business.”

“Half of your guests are not even of the Agency,” murmurs Ava, her disapproving glance sweeping over the almost gaudily overdecorated room. Eventually, her eyes settle on Nate serving tea cakes to some of the ladies, all refined charm and long fingers and even longer smiles, and a pang of guilt runs through her when she realises that her old friend is actually enjoying himself, thriving and basking in the plenitude of attention he is showered with. She’s been so absorbed in her love for the detective that she nearly haven’t had enough time for him as of late.

“All previously settled engagements, of course. I’m sure you understand how rude it would have been of me to entreat them not to come,” Ashbury lies fluidly, yet her brown eyes glint with a mocking light that betrays her immediately and on purpose. She delights in the tensing of the muscles in Ava’s jaw.

“Of course.”

“Now don’t be so uncouth, or else I will be the talk of every party and club for the coming weeks about the questionable company I keep,” Catherine Ashbury shakes her head stubbornly, dark locks bouncing defiantly as she links their arms and tugs Ava away from the window. They walk down the long parlour slowly, close enough to the guests that they feel like they’re part of the occasion, and yet far away for their conversation to remain private.

“You’re already the talk of London, Lady Ashbury,” Ava retaliates, almost suavely wrapping her jest in a cloak of concern. “Thirty years you have been here, and thirty years you haven’t aged a day.”

“Some of us are just lucky in that regard, aren’t we?” the hostess grins at Ava. “Unlike these poor ladies here... Or even your private detective. They’re young now, but they’ll whither away soon like roses in the winter. Such a waste. Just like this whole operation has been, if you pardon my frankness. I understand her protection was part of the deal the Agency made with the Police Commissioner, but such a waste of resources this endeavour has been! Our top agents, wasted on the protection of one human. I’ve always appreciated your practical thinking, so I know you must feel the same way as I do. And to be stuck in it for two whole years...! Well, I’m sure you will be relieved to learn the rumours I’ve been hearing lately.”

Ava awakens from her listless silence when Catherine Ashbury ceases to prate about the question of mortality and baits her into enquiring more about the mysterious little sentence she dropped at the end of her speech. She schools her features into an emotionless mask even as her heart begins to fill with uncertainty and fear, painfully aware of Ashbury’s almost predatory gaze fixed on her at all times. “Do they have to do anything with our mission?”

“Would you be intrigued if I said yes?” Catherine asks, red lips curving into a satisfied smile when she notices her quickening pulse. “Alright then. Mind you, these are only rumours, and you didn’t hear them from me... But it is said that the Agency wants to form permanent working units - much like your partnership with Nathaniel, only in teams of four and with greater autonomy than what is usually granted to field agents. I hear the top squad has already been assembled - and utilised. Here, in London. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“What could possibly be their objective here?” Ava frowns as they walk slowly, Ashbury leading the way to the small balcony facing a lush park of green fenced in by equally posh buildings as the one they’re in right now. “I haven’t been alerted of any major supernatural activity here, save for the rouge dark elf, of course.”

“Ah, there you go, spoiling the surprise,” Catherine sighs, finally giving up her maddening secrecy as she takes a deep breath, the crisp air chilling her lungs in the most effervescent way. Or is it the anticipation radiating off of her agent in waves as great as ocean tides? It is an exhilarating game, reading others, playing with words and watching the body betray the mind as it answers all questions so truthfully. She is only the temporary handler of the two agents, and has been that for two years straight now, but a sudden recognition manifests in her heart - as difficult and disagreeable and perfectly unpleasant Ava can be sometimes (the very opposite of her companion) she will miss her. She thinks her a remarkable entity, a true novelty among the cheap copies upon copies of women who thoughtlessly sacrifice their truest parts on the altar of hypocrisy and vanity, until no vestige remains of their original self. To know Ava is to face a lot of uncomfortable but all the more truthful feelings - one can decide to despise Ava for it, but the wise learn to look within.

Though Lady Ashbury may not look it, she is old. Older than Ava, and certainly older than youthful, handsome Nathaniel. And she feels old too, the debauchery of her long centuries and the dishonest little games that made up her life ageing her soul prematurely. But when Ava speaks...! When Ava speaks, her throat becomes the well, and her words truth, and she shames mankind in the most delicious way. Like that splendid painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme, La Vérité sortant du puits armée de son martinet pour châtier l’humanité. Truth Coming Out of Her Well to Shame Mankind. A painting she wishes she could procure for herself.

And Ava. A woman Catherine wishes she met when she was still herself.

But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The demise of the rogue dark elf is only part of the rumours circulating in the Agency about Ava’s involvement during her latest assignment. Or about Ava herself, and her career, for that matter.

“Speak plainly, Catherine,” Ava almost pleads, her diplomatic facade slipping up to reveal a shade of fear in the green of her eyes. Ashbury wishes nothing but to descend upon Ava’s connection to the private detective like a vulture until she realises the rumours have more truth to them than even those who maliciously spread it could imagine. She hasn’t a shred of doubt about Du Mortain’s feelings for the human woman now, her initial doubt obliterated by every sign in Ava’s body language as they stand so close to each other on the small balcony overlooking the beautiful Cornwall Gardens. Ava is a clever woman, capable on jobs, willing to take on risks no one else would dare. And more importantly, she is aware of her strengths too - and thus her self-aware nature marks her as superior to all the other humble little agents. She must know what Catherine is about to tell her - with the task forces forming, and the first such group striking in a place none other than London, she must know that it is only a matter of time before the rogue is dealt with. Before she’d be given an assignment and a position befitting someone of her talents.

And here she stands, this brilliant woman in all her glory, terrified of a promotion that would have put a smile on her stern face two years ago.

“As I said, you didn’t hear this from me,” Lady Ashbury resigns, a little sullen at being robbed of her smug pleasure all of a sudden. “But I know for a fact that your current assignment is drawing to a swift conclusion as we speak. And rumour has it, you are destined for greater things once it is over.”

“Greater things,” Ava echoes, her whole being feeling hollow. Around the detective, she forgot about the world, to be honest. And it seems like she is about to pay the price for her two years of blissful ignorance. She always knew the mission would end, and yet in a strange way she didn’t really believe it. It’s like how people know they are mortal, and yet feel so much entitlement to life that when death comes for them, they have the audacity to appear shocked.

Ava has no illusions. This is a goodbye, not an opportunity. Nate may think that bringing in the private detective is a reasonable step, but Ava will do everything in her power to prevent her from learning who she is, what they are, what the last two years have been about. They were never right for each other. She was never right. And if she leaves now, maybe she can draw that conclusion too.

“My dear, everything you’ve done up to this point is in the past now. And it is best to leave a dead thing in the ground.” Catherine’s plummy honeyed words have an admonitory yet sad edge to them. It is a warning about the detective, and what clinging to her could mean to her career, with an undertone of genuine empathy uncharacteristic to Lady Ashbury. She inspects the woman to her right, a dark speck against the grey sky, and feels honest to god sympathy - and emotion she hasn’t felt in decades. Maybe it is good she will no longer be her handler, Ashbury thinks as she lights a cigarette. She felt too many real things ever since Ava came into her perfectly splendid and dull life, tearing apart the walls of hedonism and debauchery she’s built around herself. But that is a goodbye that can wait.

“Congratulations, Commanding Agent Du Mortain.”

Catherine watches Ava from the balcony still as she purposefully cuts across the Cornwall Gardens, stomping the prized lawn of the old Mr Thomas Broadwood Junior in the process as that sweet Nathaniel treads on her heels ever so loyally. They must be headed for Cromwell Road which will no doubt have available hansoms for them to hail. Not that they need them, but if they are going to Whitechapel, which she is certain of, they need to travel the old fashioned way for appearance’s sake.

The tea gown is too flimsy for her to stay outside for much longer, so she heads inside, cheer and conversation and the wonderfully lukewarm sensation that only pointless small talk can elicit wrapping her in a blanket of comfort instantly. And Lady Ashbury is finally home.

On the other side of London, a woman is losing the only home she’s ever had in centuries. How many lives can she save if she goes along with the Agency’s plans for her? Surely the detective isn’t worth all that. (She is. Her rationale may deny it, but she knows she is worth all that and more to her. And she ignores it anyway.)

Ava will go on loving her in every following decade, in every language she knows, with every breath she takes. She marries duty, and allows death to make a martyr of her lover left behind. Turn her into her very own memento mori.

And in the end, the agent isn’t completely mistaken - something will indeed claim the private detective’s very soul. But it will not be as serene as eternal sleep, as Ava keeps believing. No, it is not death that claims the detective after all.

Even though sometimes even she wishes it were that simple. That peaceful. That freeing.

But there is no rest for the wicked.

#dottiechan writes #ava du mortain x detective #a du mortain x detective #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc detective #ava du mortain #a du mortain #I finally finished reading Dracula by Bram Stoker and the same day I was like #y'know what I'll finish this chapter as well #also in case you're wondering #yes #Lady Ashbury is a vampire #and I blatantly stole her last name from Vampyr

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