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yuusa · 3 years ago

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⟡ 𝐈𝐈𝐈 | 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

“Noé. Hey, Noé, wait a minute!” Vanitas shouted, trying to reach out to the white-haired vampire. The man was walking with long strides, his legs pulling him further ahead from the black-haired man. This caused a small groan to erupt from the younger man’s lips, “Do you even know where to go?” He asked, rubbing the side of his head as you approached his figure.

“No, I do not!” He replied, storming out of the building as he adjusted the front of his coat. After leaving through the front doors of Galerie Valentine, he was desperately trying to search for another curse bearer. He refuses to acknowledge or even fathom the idea of Amelia Ruth being executed, especially right after she had been cured. He couldn’t believe his own ears when Orlok announced her upcoming execution. He squeezed his hands into a tight fist, his purple-tinted eyes glaring at the streets ahead of him. He could never forgive himself if that were to happen.

“Of course you don’t!” Before the older man could wander off into the streets of Paris, Vanitas reached out with his gloved hands to pull him back with his collar. You sighed as you watched him struggle against his grip, complaining about the wrinkles he was creating as he was tugged backward. “Well, for now, calm down.”

“I’ll thank you not to pull on me!” Noé said, trying to rip himself away from the man’s gloved hands. Vanitas only clicked his tongue as his strength overwhelmed the white-haired man. Your expression softened as you patted his shoulder, urging for him to allow Noé to stand freely.

The man sighed underneath his breath, complying with your wishes as a sudden rush of air flew towards Noé. He let out a small gasp as he reached up to touch the dark, mysterious creature that had flown into his face. He pulled it down for a moment, toying with the edges of its wings as he looked at it with curiosity. “A bat?” He called out, watching as it quickly pulled itself away from him, returning to its original owner.

You turned your head to the side, noticing a familiar figure that was leaning against the wall. His orange hair was easy to identify, its curled and messy locks already giving you a clear idea of their identity. He had his hands inside of his pocket, his expression as smug as it had always been. Vanitas’ eyes widened at the sight of familiar dhampir partner.

“Hey. You look like you’re having trouble, Vanitas.”

“Dante!” Vanitas shouted, leaving your group as he stomped towards the dhampir, shouting at him as he pointed at his chest with his gloved hand. “You! You left Amelia Ruth and ran away by yourself, didn’t you?” He accused, looking towards him with a mixture of disappointment and frustration.

Dante huffed, raising his hand defensively, “My contract with you for that day didn’t include protecting the target! I don’t do more work than I get paid for!”

“Miser!”

“Can it, quack!” As quickly as he came to the scene, Dante cleared his throat, his eyes drawing themselves towards your figure as you smiled innocently. He could feel his face grow flushed as he shook his head, straightening out his back.

“G-Good day to you Mademoiselle (Y/n)!” The fronts of his cheeks turned into a bright shade of red, catching the attention of Vanitas who sighed underneath his breath. This was what seemed to be the sixth time he attempted to make contact with you outside of work. You continued to give him a relaxed smile. While you appreciated his enthusiasm and affection, you weren’t entirely sure if you were ready for such romances.

You nod in response, “Good day to you, Monsieur Dante. It is a pleasure meeting you again.” Noé let out a noise of confusion, looking at the group with a blank expression. While he has gotten to know a few more about you and Vanitas, he had a significant lack of information on Dante. He had only remembered seeing him a couple of times during the airship, but he didn’t seem to be involved enough for him to be memorable.

Vanitas sighed as he scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose I’d better introduce him to you, Noé.” He placed one hand on his hip, the other pointing over to the dhampir with an unamused expression. The man behind him only rolled his eyes, waiting for him to finish his introduction. “This guy is Dante. He’s an information broker I use frequently. . . or rather, he’s a jack-of-all-trades who’ll do practically anything as long as you pay him.”

“Woah! Why’re you with that lad, huh?” Dante asked, looking up at Noé in surprise. At first, he thought it was a mere coincidence that they met up with each other, but now it seems as if it’s much more than that. To think that innocent people such as you and Noé would be wrapped up in Vanitas’ antics sent shivers down his spine. Dante rubbed the front of his forehead, a migraine already beginning to form. It was the same reaction he had several years ago when Vanitas brought you to Paris for the first time.

“Ah. . . Baldy, was it?”

“Hey. Don’t you dare remember me like that!”

Vanitas raised his hand to poke at Dante’s chest, taunting him. You stood quietly in the background, observing the streets around you as they continued to talk amongst each other. “I don’t know why you’re here, Dante, but you’re out of luck! I just found a new shield that will aid my plans!”

“Say what? Huh? That guy? And I was never your shield!”

“He’s stronger and sturdier than you, and he doesn’t cost money!” Vanitas laughed, feeling confident in himself. Noé only lamented at his antics, finding it less humorous and more on the annoying side. “How do you like that, Dante? Unlike you, he’s the perfect partner just like (Y/n)!”

Dante protested against his words, arguing that he didn’t need to work for Vanitas. From the moment they started working together, he knew that the young man had always had a knack for trying to get underneath people’s skins, but the only person he knew that remained unaffected by his personality was you. It was rather a miracle to see that you were even able to last months working alongside him. Dante could only work with him for five minutes before getting tired of his immature ways.

Vanitas smiled, “I’m sorry, Dante, but that’s how it is! If you want to earn pocket money, you’ll have to go elsewhere!”

“Is that right? I see that’s too bad!” Dante chuckled, suddenly feeling as if he has the upper hand at the moment. He waved around his bat companion, taunting Vanitas who widened his eyes in surprise. “Just when I’d figured out where the ‘Nine-Fold Murderer’ was and came to find you. Yeah, it’s a real shame!”

Vanitas dropped to his knees, his lips nearly kissing the floor as Dante laughed much harder than before. “Master Dante, I love you! Splendid fellow! I knew you could do it! You’re so incredibly cool!” The black-haired man cried out in joy, small ounces of fake tears flooding his eyes. You and Noé exchanged looks, his eyes signaling whether or not you felt embarrassed by the situation. You shook your head and shrugged, wordlessly telling him that you were already used to the attention.

“We just need to follow this bat then?” Noé asked, watching as the smaller creature tucked itself into the crooks of your neck. You flinched at the sudden movement, your face warming up slightly as it caressed your cheek with its wings. On your right side, Noé stared at it in awe, his eyes shining brightly in excitement as he grazed his hand against it softly. He watched as it only curled itself more into your hood, shielding itself away from the man’s grasp.

“You got it,” Dante replied, “My friend is tailing the ‘Nine-Fold Murderer’ as we speak. This little guy will take you to that friend.” You smiled as you playfully toyed with the bat, pressing the tips of your finger lightly against its nose as it squealed in response. It was such a small, fragile creature, you thought. Your finger rubbed against its bottom chin softly, letting it lean against you as it cooed.

Vanitas dumped out his wallet onto the ground, trying to search for any coins that remained deep within. He was letting out comedic tears, sobbing internally as he stared into the empty wallet. After paying Dante for the information, he was left with nearly nothing. Your eyes softened as you frowned, feeling a sense of sympathy growing within.

“You completely skinned me for that information, Baldy!” He shouted, holding out his empty purse wallet. It had once been so lively with coins but now it was a hollow shell of what it once was.

“Shut up! You thought info even Old Orlok doesn’t have was going to be cheap?”

“At least give me a discount!”

You and Noé watched as your small bat fluttered into the air, flying across the building that was across from your group. The white-haired man turned to you for a moment, silently wondering if you had seen the same thing. You nod in response but before you could alert Vanitas, the man had already disappeared over the building. You were about to call for his name but stopped yourself.

“Huh? Hey, don’t just run off by yourself! Don’t you remember what happened last time?” Vanitas cried out, stomping his feet against the ground. Despite his calls, Noé remained unaffected and continued to trail after the bat. As he slammed his hand against his forehead, Vanitas pointed up towards the direction Noé had run off to. “(Y/n), let’s go! We have to catch that idiot!”

“Right!” you carefully picked up Vanitas into your arms, your hand placed behind his knees as your second one squeezed his shoulder. You quickly jumped up to the highest building, trailing right behind Noé. Dante only watched from the bottom, feeling unamused by the situation. As you were running beside the white-haired man, his hand was outreached, trying to catch up to the flying creature as you both jumped over obstacles.

“Thomas Berneux,” Vanitas said, tilting his head towards the buildings in front of you. He was scanning your surroundings, trying to find any sort of clue that the winged creature could be leading to.

“I beg your pardon?” Noé replied, unsure of what to make of the choice of words. He wasn’t familiar with the name, hence his confusion towards Vanitas.

“That’s the name of the vampire who appeared from beyond the barrier two months ago and had devoured nine people in rapid succession.” He replied, “I’d been chasing that vampire right up until I received that letter from Amelia Ruth. I already have information on him.”

“Ah! Then you were the doctor Mlle. Amelia mentioned!”

“Oui. From what she’d written in her letter, I knew Amelia Ruth’s symptoms could manifest at any moment. . . so I put my search for the ‘Nine-Fold Murderer’ on hold and boarded La Baleine, where she was. “

“It’s said that Thomas Bernuex’s fits are cyclical. If we have any chance at finding him, it may be tonight,” You add, dancing across the buildings as your heels click against the ground. “His choice of victims are usually females. I could only hope that Dante’s friend is safe.”

From afar, you could see the blast of a large-scale attack that was close to the location Vanitas pointed to. “That’s the Riverside Factory District, hurry!” You toughened your grip around him as you and Noé rushed towards the scene. You slammed the front of your foot on the edge of the building, stopping yourself from toppling over. Looking down from the very tip of the building, you could see a young woman running from a monstrous creature, its skin cloaked in shadows as it smashed through the ground beside her, creating a large crater into the Earth. She let out a gasp of fear as she dropped to the floor, too exhausted to continue running.

“There!” Vanitas spotted, “That’s Thomas Berneux! Stop him, Noé!”

“Understood!” Before you could even register what was going on at the moment, Noé grabbed onto Vanitas’ collar, reeling him back before throwing him straight towards Thomas. The man cried out in terror as he flew towards the man, hitting him and himself square in the head as he collapsed into a nearby stack of containers. You leaned over the edge of the roof, watching as he dug himself out of the pile of broken boxes. You winced at the sight, an ache beginning to form around your body.

“Hey! Are you trying to kill me?” Vanitas shouted, glaring at Noé. You hurriedly jumped down from the building, landing safely beside him as you examined the outside of his body. As you softly pressed your fingers against part of his arm, you noticed his winces. There were a few bruises already forming on his body but you had little time to dwell on that matter. You tighten your grip around your coffin, bringing it close to you as you prepare yourself for Thomas Berneux.

Vanitas’ eyes widened in surprise as he witnessed Noé pinning him to the ground, the man’s arms kept tightly behind him as Noé’s expression hardened. “Noé, keep him pinned like that!” Vanitas quickly brought out The Book of Vanitas, producing a bright light that paralyzed Thomas. You blocked your vision with your arm as the wind that was produced by the attack died out. Once it had faded into nothing, you cracked open your eyes to scan your surroundings.

“—I administered a shock. He’s temporarily paralyzed. We’ll tie him up now and take him back to Orlok.” He said, brushing his gloved hands through his hair as Noé breathed heavily in relief. He hoped that since this was an easy job, he was able to get some rest once he was back at the hotel. He would have never thought a job such as this would go by so quickly. Vanitas walked towards the injured dhampir woman, his eyes caked in concern. “You must be Dante’s friend. He realized he was being tailed and lured you into a deserted area, am I right?” He asked.

“Yes. . . thank you. You saved me,” she replied, squeezing the side of her arm as she looked up at him. Although their conversation regarding Thomas was going rather smoothly with his easy capture, it seemed too good to be true. Your ears suddenly flicked at the sound of faint, new footsteps that came from the other side of the alleyway. You quickly ran towards Vanitas’ side, bringing out a hand in front of him as you carried your coffin close to you.

“Master, we aren’t the only ones here. We should stay on guard.” You announced, stepping forward. There were only a few scents you recognized in the area. Three of which you were already familiar with, one that you recently discovered. However, now two extra ones have yet to confirm their identity. You frowned as Vanitas stared in front of you, curious to see what you had found. Your group tilted its head towards the sound of clapping, a pair of footsteps approaching the alleyway. You tighten your grip around the strap of your coffin.

“. . . That was amazing. To think you’d seal a curse bearer’s movements instantly like that.” A young boy and his bourreau appeared from out of the darkness, her cloaked figure gripping onto a coffin. Your eyes widened underneath your hood, your throat suddenly feeling slightly parched at the sight of her. There was something about her that you couldn’t put your finger on. She almost seemed familiar in a way. “You’re ‘Vanitas,’ correct? My name is Luca, her name is Jeanne.”

Vanitas let out a huff, “What’re you two? Humans? Vampires?”

“Oh, excuse me,” Luca said, bringing down his collar to reveal his fangs, “We’re vampires. Monsieur Vanitas. It’s impudent of me but I’ve come to ask you for a favor. That book. . .”

He raised his hand, gesturing for him to offer it to him, “The Book of Vanitas. . . would you give it to me?”

Vanitas stared down at him with a serious expression, his lips pressed against each other as if he was in thought. Suddenly, his face snapped into a childish grin, “No! This book isn’t a toy for little kids like you!” You and Noé sighed underneath your breath, already drawn out by his immature behavior. At the sound of his response, Jeanne let out a murderous aura that darkened around her. She glared at him with her golden eyes, their color shining brightly underneath the shadowy halls.

Vanitas huffed at the sight, waving off her threat, “Why do you want it? Do you understand what it is?”

“Of course.” Luca replied, “The Book of Vanitas is a catastrophic book that will bring destruction upon vampires because its power makes it possible to interfere with vampires’ True Names. It has been called ‘an analytical engine in the shape of a book.’ All the while, it is an evil device that creates the beings known as curse bearers!” The smaller boy held onto his cross-bag tightly, frowning at Vanitas.

“. . . I’m spreading the curse around, using The Book of Vanitas? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Vanitas stared at him in disbelief. You looked towards the bourreau beside Luca, her white hair peeking through the thick hood she wore. Have you heard of the name Jeanne before? You weren’t entirely sure but a part of you felt like you had met her already. You pressed your thumb against the base of your chin, thinking to yourself.

“It is. Or. . . you yourself may be a victim, afflicted by the power of that book. I’m told that there’s a type of grimoire that takes control of its bearer’s consciousness the instant it’s picked up. If you are unconsciously being used by that book, it’s unfortunate but. . .” Luca waved his hands up and down, gesturing to the book, “the only way to save the cursed is to dispose of The Book of Vanitas by the proper method. As its bearer, you’ll likely receive appropriate punishment as well.”

Noé rushed forward in the conversation, separating you and Vanitas from Luca and Jeanne. Your eyes dilated in surprise, what exactly was he planning? “Wait, please! You can’t dispose of that book! Although you’re free to do whatever you like to this man!”

“Hey!”

“We’re in a great hurry. I apologize but let’s discuss this another time!” Luca clicked his tongue in response, unsatisfied by their reasoning. Compared to them, he had a much greater cause to follow. He squeezed his hands into a tight fist, his arms trembling in frustration.

“I don’t have any time either!” He shouted, holding up his fist close to his collar. His small, childish hands were shaking in fear. You pressed your lips into a thin line, glowering at the sight of his fear. “Right now someone very precious to me has become a curse bearer and is suffering. The only way to save that person is to rid this world of The Book of Vanitas! I’m begging you, give me that book!”

“If The Book of Vanitas disappears, there won’t be any curse bearers?” Vanitas glared at Luca, the chimes of his clothes echoing in the once quiet alleyway. “Who fed you that cock-and-bull story?”

“. . . What?”

“Listen to me. I am a doctor! I’m using the power of this book to save vampires!” He announced, “If you want to save your ‘precious someone,’ take me to them. I’ll examine them as soon as I’ve healed this patient.”

Luca snapped, his anger getting the best of him as he narrowed his eyes towards Vanitas, “The curse of The Vampire of The Blue Moon is why my older brother is suffering! Take you to him? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Master Luca.” He suddenly clamped his hand over his mouth, apologizing for his loud voice as Jeanne stood by his side. She stared down at him for a few moments before turning her attention towards your group. Her eyes focused on your figure, your body already positioned stiffly.

“So your brother became a curse bearer?” Vanitas hummed, placing his hand over his chin as he thought to himself. Abruptly, your pupils shrunk at the sight of Jeanne running towards him. Your heels clicked against the ground as you slammed your coffin against hers, shielding Vanitas from the attack. She blinked several times, her eyes trying to adjust to your figure. She clicked her tongue as she looked up at your taller frame, your prosthetic clicking as you stood confidently in front of the man.

You weren’t keen on using violence against others in such a foul way, but considering her lack of self-control, you couldn’t help but feel slightly peeved by her behavior. “Master Luca. . . further talk is pointless.” She swung forward, attempting to knock you out of balance. She chose not to listen to any further discussion from your party. You swiftly turned around, hitting her back with your coffin. From the force of your attack, it had created enough strength in the wind to rip her outer coat from her body.

Luca came towards Jeanne, his hand grasping at her arm as she let out heavy breaths. “Monsieur Vanitas. You won’t give us that book, no matter what?” The man in question only smiled, giving enough of an answer to the younger boy. He squeezed his eyes shut, staring at him in regret. He had hoped that the argument wouldn’t turn out this way but he had nothing else to do. “Jeanne. . .”

You watched carefully as the woman snapped open the locks to her coffin, “I know. I’ll do my best to take him alive.”

“Please. . .” He begged, “The Book of Vanitas, take it from him!”

“. . . Oui, votre altesse.”

Your group looked in horror at the sight of her Crimson Gauntlet, Carpe Diem, a weapon of mass destruction that slaughtered a sea of traitorous vampires. While you have only heard her a few times in some legends, you couldn’t believe that she would still be alive. You stood in front of Vanitas defensively, unsure if you would be able to handle her gauntlet’s power. You bit the bottom of your lip, your hand trembling slightly as you squeezed the handle to your coffin.

Vanitas’ eyes narrowed mischievously, his focus being placed onto your shivering form. He knew better than anyone else, from the moment he uncovered you from the ground, you were only a piece of what you once were during the war. His hands carefully reached out to touch your cheek, his bright, blue eyes staring into yours with a loving gaze. Your breath hitched at the sight of them, questioning his behavior as he leaned forward, his nose barely grazing against yours.

“(Y/n). . .” He whispered, “You understand what I have to say, don’t you? Remind yourself that you follow my orders and mine alone.” He squeezed your cheek, drawing you even closer to him until you could feel his warm breaths. Your heart violently crashed against the front of your chest, your body stiffening. “Don’t you dare stop until I tell you.”

“I. . .” You swallowed a thick lump at the base of your throat, unsure of how to respond to the man. You had sworn an oath to him, a pledge that you couldn’t break. Your hand felt clammy as his smile grew as wide as a Chesire Cat, the edges tearing apart to reveal the intense smell of blood. You sucked in a deep breath, your pupils trembling in fear.

“Kill her.” He ordered, pressing his forehead against yours as he looked into your eyes. He pulled out his tongue, revealing your Mark of Possession. The sharp edges of your mark burned themselves into your memories. You looked down at him with a mixture of fear and concern, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. He had always loved the expression you made when you were pushed against the edge. The look of terror that you had in your eyes, the heated look on your face when your deeper half silently begged him for blood sent him into moments of shock that coursed through his body.

The issue was never about your loss. . . it was about whether or not you had more self-restraint than your opponent. The scent of his blood was becoming too intense, the colors were beginning to warp your sense of reality as you found yourself instinctively leaning in. Vanitas only continued to smile, satisfied by your end resolve. Jeanne and Luca watched as the man shared an intimate kiss with you, forcing his tongue through the barriers of your teeth. You flinched as he pulled you forward in his direction, your arm instinctively wrapping around his waist as you dug your fangs deeper into his pink, writhing muscles. As your body fueled itself with Vanitas’ blood, the feeling of warmth engulfed you. You found yourself separated from the outside world, your body dipping itself into a black ocean of your mind. The man only opened his eyes, staring back at Jeanne with interest.

Her prosthetic arm clicked and crackled as it unhooked the locks to her coffin, the door sliding open with a creak as she reached forward, pulling out a heavy, black-colored weapon. The younger boy stood in fear as he listened to the sounds of her arm grinding against its components, a bellow of steam erupting from the side as she arched her back, reeling her head away from Vanitas as trickles of blood fell from her lips. She washed away the stray strands of blood and saliva that connected her with Vanitas, her head tilting itself towards Jeanne. Her tongue was doused with the sweet taste of his blood before she dropped him, her hand raising itself to wipe at the extra string of blood that she licked away.

“Comme vous voudrez, Monsieur.” She smiled, the edges ripping into her cheeks. Her prosthetic hand jerked itself, the force snapping the folded half of her gun into one. The clicking sound of her arm became eerier by the second as she spun the rifle around, the weight of it being as light as a feather. Jeanne froze in place at the sight of her rifle, her knees shaking slightly as a sense of fear erupted at the base of her throat. Her eyes were dyed a bright, carmine color, the shade shining brighter even from underneath the dark halls. She held out her hand in front of Luca, guarding him against a danger she didn’t know.

“Jeanne. . .” Luca squeezed her dress tightly. She cracked back the handle, reloading her gun as Vanitas reached for Noé’s sleeve, pulling him through the obscure alleyways. He called out for your name worryingly, turning to Vanitas in protest before peering over his shoulder. Jeanne stood frozen in front of the (h/c) woman, her hands shaking. “That gun. . . That’s. . .”

Jeanne’s lips trembled as she dropped to the floor, her gauntlet sitting beside her as she watched in horror as the pale, white snow was stained in a deep shade of red. Between her allies and enemies, they all ended up in the same, blurred mess within her mind. She released an animalistic growl, a laugh following soon after that echoed throughout the field. The white-haired woman stared at the scattered remains, unable to recognize a single face. They were no longer human, nor were they vampires. Her eyes turned towards the sound of snapping twigs, her focus pulling themselves towards a woman with (h/c) hair. Her prosthetic arm clicked as it reeled someone back, their screams bursting into the air. She shivered as the sounds of crackling continued to echo alongside their shrieks. Her foot trampled on every segment of their body, shattering them into smaller pieces. She ground her heels into them, showing no sense of mercy upon their souls before raising her rifle to their heads, puncturing what remained in their skull.

The snowfall began to pick up, consuming any leftovers she had dispersed across the ground. She slowly brought her head up, turning towards Jeanne as she tilted it to the side. She dropped the arm that she was holding onto, her tongue peeking out from the craters of her lips, the muscle dragging itself across the liquid that had been splashed across her face. Her cerise eyes glimmered from underneath the dark skies, the whites of her pupils as empty as the battlefield.

She had only heard of the term “Cleaner” once but she wouldn’t know she would see one in person. There was nothing clean about the world in front of her. There was nothing left on the snowy fields. There was nothing to be identified. Nothing to be heard. She raised her hand to her cheeks, holding her screams back as the (h/c) woman walked away, the crimson liquid dripping onto the snow like rain.

She should be glad that she was spared but fear ran through her veins like a coursing river.

“. . . Lacrimosa!”

#memoryofthelostfanfic #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas x reader

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yuusa · 3 years ago

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⟡ 𝐈 | 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

“Hey, are you seriously going?” His dhampir partner prodded at his ear, staring at the black-haired man with a disinterested expression. Standing by his side was a woman of taller stature, her (h/c) flowing in the same direction as the wind as she adjusted the front of her hooded, cape coat. It was as warm and soft as the sheep who had given their wool to create it. The man sighed underneath his breath. To think that such a childish and selfish man, whose nature towards women was less than satisfactory, could have such a beautiful, (h/c) woman working for him was extraordinary. He couldn’t help but feel a keen sense of jealously rise at the pits of his stomach.

You pinched the top of your hood, feeling mildly dissatisfied by the position but ultimately gave up on trying to keep it in shape. You were dressed in a luminous white double-slit dress, a thin chain trailing across your collarbone. You squeezed at your chest, finding the color to be all too familiar to the snowy mountains. You wouldn’t want to expose your identity to the city of Paris so easily. With it only being a few years since your first arrival, it had seemed as if all traces of vampires had disappeared from This Side. The smell of their figures no longer easily traced. You had been informed that there were still small groups roaming around, crossing through the border to feed on humans, fueling their addiction for blood. Some of them carried curses within them, their True Names stolen by a dark creature that feasted on vampires. You’ve learned quite a lot since working underneath the black-haired man.

He smiled, his carefree attitude erupting from his throat, “Of course. We know the target’s in there. I won’t let the vampires escape me!” As he began to chatter away to himself about his job, you squeezed the long strap that stretched across your chest.

You were carrying a large coffin on your back, the weight of it being nothing more than a feather to you. After your body was discovered, so has your presumed weapon. You had been told that you served in the war for hundreds of years, only to be locked in a comatose state near the end. You weren’t entirely sure about how to use your rifle properly but you’ve regained part of your combat skill from the war, leaving you with enough strength to keep others safe.

The orange-haired dhampir only shook his head at his words, knowing already that he wouldn’t back down from such a dangerous job. Although they have been working together at a young age, he couldn’t help but feel as if it was rather disappointing. Even though the black-haired man paid well, he had a terrible, childish, annoying, the list could just go on forever, type of attitude that peeved him to the ends of the Earth. He would be loud and boisterous but too quiet and reserved. To him, it was like trying to figure out the time on a clock without any hands or numbers.

You brushed your hand against your partner’s shoulder, your prosthetic arm clicking as it reeled its gears. “Master,” you whispered, your rosy lips pressing against each other as you lower your gaze, “it appears as if she has company. Would you like me to get rid of him?”

He raised his hand in response, stopping it in front of you as you pulled back. You paused your movements, staring at his outstretched hand as he smiled. “Non, I’m going to need you to stay with me until I’ve treated the patient. If anything goes wrong, I know you’ll be able to take care of it while I’m busy.” He threw his medicine bag towards you, your hands instinctively reaching out to it as you gripped onto its edges. It weighed quite heavy, but not as heavy as your coffin. “Carry this for me in case you find any casualties in the area.”

“. . . Comme vous voudrez, Monsieur,” you replied, drawing yourself away from him as you wrapped his bag around you. You fastened its straps, allowing it to lay against your hip as you dropped your hands.

The three of you watched from above the glass ceiling of La Baleine, staring through the window to witness the young woman shattering a series of light posts beside her friend. She cradled her hands close to her chest, her legs bringing her back several steps to separate herself from the growing crowds. Despite her worsening conditions, she continued to stand, trying to act as if she was unaffected. Her friend gripped at the front of his hat with only the tips of his fingers, looking at her with confusion as his eyes remained fixated on the red tint that had formed around her orbs. She gripped at the ornate railing with one hand, breathing heavily as he accused her of being a vampire.

Before she could leap towards his unsuspecting body, your partner hooked himself to a wire, his hand reaching out to grip your waist as you both flew through the large window. He reached out to the woman in the air, his gloved hands attempting to grab her. However, once he landed on the ground she had already disappeared into thin air. You slowly cracked your head to the side, staring at the white-haired man whose hands grasped the weakening woman. Despite her being a vampire, he had enough power to keep her away from your group. How strange, you thought. His smell was much too different to be compared to those you surround yourself with.

Your partner let out a hum of amusement, his shining eyes dragging themselves across his body. “I thought I had you there,” he comments. You shuffled closer to his side, tightening your grip around the strap of your coffin. You sensed something off about the man. His eyes were much too sharp for an average human. The white-haired man stared at your figure, his lips pressed into a thin line as he attempted to memorize the shape of your body. Your hooded cape coat that had wrapped around your body left you only as a smear of ebony on his vision, his eyes unable to make a proper frame.

“What’re you?” Your partner asked, turning his head to face the white-haired man. He had an amused expression woven into his lips, the edges crawling up to his cheeks. Even with the sudden change of events, he found himself entertained. Your heels clicked against the ground as you stepped in front of him, bringing raising your prosthetic hand to shield him.

“. . . I could ask you the same,” he replied, pulling the woman close to his chest as his eyes hardened onto your figures. He had little information about your abilities but judging the weight of your coffin and the red tint in your glare, he assumed you were less than human. You shuffled your heels to the side, lowering your body as you steadied yourself, readying yourself for his attack.

“Don’t kill him. Stay out of the way (Y/n),” your partner ordered, causing you to quickly straighten your back as you brought your hands down. “Stand guard and treat those who are injured.” You blinked in response but stepped away from the field, offering him space as he sauntered towards the taller, white-haired foreigner. The stranger’s eyes widened at your sudden obedience, finding your relationship rather strange. “Your partner brushed the dust off of his clothes, smiling mischievously. “My only business is with that girl. Take my advice—leave her and get lost. If you don’t. . .”

His lips curved into a menacing grin, his finger pointing towards him, “you’ll get hurt.”

“I refuse.” He bluntly replied, giving the audience an entertaining show to watch from behind. Your partner let out a small huff before swinging his dagger towards the man. His short boots clicked against the ground as the man weaved through his attacks with ease, the weight of the woman serving little hindrance to his movements. Just as you thought, you narrowed your eyes. He was a vampire.

With constant swings whiffing through the air, your partner laughed hysterically, “For someone carrying a girl, you move pretty well!” The well-suited man danced between the empty spaces, avoiding his attacks with relative ease. This gave your partner the time to touch the base of his dagger, revealing a thin wire that wrapped around his leg. Once the woman began crying in agony, her body struggling in his arms, it served well as a distraction for your partner to pull the wire.

The man quickly noticed the weight of his body shift. In a swift attempt to save the woman, he threw her into the air, causing the crowd to gasp in shock as she screeched. Before your partner could register the motives for his actions, the man reeled back his fist. You rushed forward, bringing your coffin in front of the black-haired man as you pulled back your prosthetic hand, your knuckles colliding with the foreigner with a loud clang. He restrained the urge to let out a cry of pain, feeling his knuckles shattering upon impact. He winced as he stepped back, his eyes widening at the sight of your (e/c) eyes.

“Well, well! That was careless of me!” Your partner let out a burst of laughter, still holding onto his dagger as he patted your shoulder. You brought down your arm, your prosthetic going limp as you slowly turned your head to him. “Good job with that attack, but don’t break him. From the looks of it, we have very little time.”

The white-haired man snapped his head towards his friend, his body rushing over to her side. You and your partner fell back into the crowd, the authorities already surrounding the young woman. Her breaths became more jarred and heavy with each passing second, her body growing as cold as ice. You stiffened your movements, watching carefully as she let out a painful cry. Her eyes teared up as her friend rubbed her shoulder with his white, gloved hands.

“Mlle. Amelia!” His purple eyes shined with concern as she violently coughed. The man struggled to decipher the cause of her illness. She was breathing too heavily, her hands were as cold as the bitter winter. Her temple dripped with sweat as she struggled to compose herself in front of others. The man raised his head to an assistant, his hands gripping at her shoulder, “Please, take her to the infirmary.”

“What are you going to do?” They asked, holding onto Amelia’s body as she remained immobile and weak. Her hands and legs were growing fragile as she continued to cough.

The man turned his head to scan his surroundings, trying to find the black-haired man and his partner through the crowd. He refused to let them get away with their attempt at assault. He parted his lips for a firm answer, his purple eyes drawing to the crowd, “Catch the lot who tried to attack her, and find out what this is about.”

“. . . No,” Amelia shouted, jumping onto his back as she squeezed his neck. She continued to cough as she leaned forward. Her breaths became rabid as she locked him in her embrace. Her lips grazed themselves against his neck as her tongue rolled out, licking the outer layer of his skin. In only a matter of seconds, she ripped his shirt collar, feasting on his shoulder as he screamed in distress. Her fangs dug deeper into his writhing body, his strength slowly being drained by her. Blood splattered across the ground as it spilled down his shirt., He winced in pain as his gloved hands attempted to stabilize the weight of their bodies. She was desperately drinking away his blood like a savage animal, clawing at his skin as she begged for more. However, before she could drink another drop of his blood, he drove her away.

“I’m not cold anymore,” She muttered, “I’m warm. More. . . Give me more blood!” A pitch-black garden of thorns erupted from the ground, attempting to pierce through the gathering crowd. Screams of pain echoed throughout the ship while he gripped at both of her wrists, immobilizing her for a short period.

“Mlle. Amelia, stop this. Don’t you understand?” He tilted his head down in fear, “Vampires are forbidden to attack humans! If you persist in this, they may dispose of you!”

He attempted to push her back but landed on the ground with his knees. He let out a groan as his body began to feel sluggish and tired, most likely from the poison that had been injected into his body from her fangs. His visions began to grow dizzy as he watched her reach out to him with her claw-like hands. However, she was quickly stopped by the thundering sounds of magic that burst through the air, knocking her back. In front of the man stood the dark-haired, dagger-wielding assaulter and his assistant. He only shook his head, clicking his tongue, “Good grief. There, you see? I told you’d get hurt,” he dropped his outstretched hand, leaving it to his side. “Just as I thought, her symptoms manifested. (Y/n), I need you to treat that man right there. He seemed to be suffering effects from the poison.”

You quietly nodded, dropping to your knees as you opened his medical bag. Your prosthetic hand dug through the thick piles of medicine, trying to sort through each compartment until you reached your desired tool. Your orange-haired dhampir companion came to the scene, dragging off one of the injured humans to safety. “Did you figure it out?”

“Of course.” He pointed at the woman. “Unbearable chills. The black tears that spilled from her eyes and chest, and. . . shadow briars. Malnomen— Eglantine, Prison of Briars!” You turned your body around, raising your hand for the poisoned man to hold onto. The white-haired man tilted his head at you in bewilderment.

The injured man cradled his shoulder, wincing at his bleeding wounds, “Mal. . . nomen?”

Your lips formed a thin line as you held out a small tube of medicine. “Are you okay? I will treat your wounds, do not resist,” you whispered, low enough for the man to hear as he stared at you in disbelief. You examined his shoulder, your fingers dragging themselves across the bleeding wound as you gently apply the salves. He shivered at the feeling of your cold metal hand glide across his body. “The poison that’s sitting in your system is much too deep for me to remove but the side effects should last much shorter. For now, you may experience some dizziness and fatigue. I suggest that you avoid being involved.”

“That’s what we call the remains of True Names warped by the ‘maladies.’” He replied, smiling in front of the deformed woman with unyielding confidence. “True names are vampire’s lives, and that woman has been warped. That’s why she’s lost her sense of self and why she can’t fight the impulse to drink blood, even though it’s generally easily controlled.”

Your dhampir partner shot through the incoming thorns, protecting the black-haired male from harm. He grits his teeth in frustration, his gun beginning to run out of bullets quickly. “Hey, quack! Quit jawing and finish it!”

“Don’t be so impatient, baldly!”

“I’m not bald!”

The man beside you thrashed in horror, his eyes staring wide-eyed at your partner with his lips curved into a terrified expression. He reached out to touch the back of his coat, gripping onto it tightly as he knelt in front of him. “Are you. . . going to kill her? Are you one of the church’s chasseurs? Or are you a bourreau, an executioner, coming to dispose of her?”

He let out a flustered laugh, finding his accusations rather humorous. He held onto his stomach as he leaned over laughing. “Me, a chasseur? A bourreau? That’s rich!” He snapped open the compartment underneath his coat, raising a silver-edged book as he straightened out his back. “—Non! I am a doctor. One who specializes in vampires. I came. . . to heal her!”

With the chain-linked book cradled within one of his hands, your partner opened the book to reveal a multitude of World Formulas written within. It clicked open several times, the shining light bursting into the man’s shocked eyes. “That’s. . . it can’t be!”

“. . . The Book of Vanitas!”

Your partner only smiled at his reaction, answering his questions with his grin. “Now then. . . let’s get her True Name returned, shall we?” The floor burst into a bright shade of colors, illuminating the night sky that peered over the crowds. The light fragmented the briars that had formed at the base of the woman’s feet, her shrieks echoing throughout the room as your partner approached her. A sea of petals flooded the area, surrounding him and the woman as he held her in a tight embrace.

“‘Florfiel’, she who guides spring!” He smiled, cradling her chin. She shivered as she felt tears rush through the edges of her eyes, the liquid spilling over her cheeks as she smiled at him. “I see. So this is your True Name, isn’t it? It suits you very well.”

She held onto his clothes tightly. “My name. . . my real name! Thank you!” Before she could get another word into the conversation, her eyes slowly fluttered shut as she laid limp in his arms. The black-haired man brought her back onto the ground, checking for any signs of injuries as his dhampir partner stood next to him.

“Huh. She’s dead?”

“Idiot. She only fainted.”

As the door clicked open, you quickly rushed to your feet, leaving the man underneath you puzzled by your reaction. You flew towards the black-haired man’s side, raising your hand to him. The door flew open as the police rushed into the crime scene, holding up revolvers to your rowdy group. You gripped onto the strap of your coffin, your (e/c) gaze hardening.

“Hand’s up! What were you doing here?” They shouted, recognizing your figures, “You’re the intruders from the observation room too, aren’t you?”

Your partner huffed in amusement as he straightened out his back. You stood beside him, keeping your eyes locked on the police. “Take my advice— Don’t involve yourselves with us!” He raised his gloved hands to one of his eyes, staring at them with an intimidating glare. His bright blue eyes shined from underneath the moon. “If you do. . . you’ll get hurt!”

There was a brief moment of silence before one of the police fired off their gun, nearly hitting the top of his head as he became lightheaded from the shock. Your eyes widened as he began to fall through the hole in the building. You raced forward, quickly gathering his legs and torso as you jumped through the ground. The man who had previously been your obstructor also jumped, causing your dhampir accomplice to groan.

“You idiots! Where are you going?” He shouted, his legs quickly bringing him out of the scene to escape. Your hood flipped over your body, revealing your (h/c) hair that fluttered through the violent winds. You raised your head, your eyes widening at the sight of the white-haired man who jumped after you. The two of you made eye contact for a second, a shade of (e/c) and purple clashing against each other as he turned his head to the blue moon, his orbs fascinated by the sight of the city. You clicked your tongue as your partner laughed, his arms wrapping around your neck as you slammed your heels against the floor you crashed into. His body jerked from the shock as you grimaced, feeling your legs absorb the impact as you slowly let him down, listening to the clicks of his shoes as he brushed aside the dust on his clothes.

“Bwahaha!” He placed his hand against his hips, laughing as the sound echoed, “What the hell? To think that we survived the fall!”

You turned your head to him, sighing underneath your breath. “That was rather reckless of you, Master,” you comment, smoothing out his clothes as you adjust the light-blue bow on the front of his clothes. “I believe that we could have made our exit somewhere else. As much as you love heights, I do think such heedless behaviors could lead to more. . . problematic situations.”

“Great suggestion (Y/n), but I think situations like these are much more fun!” He replied, smiling as the two of you tilted your head towards the sudden guest. He was breathing heavily as he crouched over, his hands placed on his knees for support.

The white-haired man who had fallen after you came to your side, his hands gripped into a tight fist, “What happened back there? What did you do to her?” Underneath the purple shades of his eyes, he looked excited.

Your partner laughed as he brushed off his shoulder, walking up the flight of stairs that was conveniently placed behind him. You quietly followed suit after him, your steps matching his pace as you stood a few steps beneath him. “An ‘Inverse Operation.’” He answered. “I used the power of The Book of Vanitas to interfere with her true name and remove the irritant. That’s it.”

“T-That’s all? What are you saying? That was phenomenal!” He waved his arms around like a child, his body jumping in enthusiasm. “Who’d have thought it could do a thing like that? The Book of Vanitas isn’t a cursed book like the one in the bedtime story, is it?”

“All that over this book? No one’s ever looked at it with shining eyes like that before!” He cradled his stomach, still breathless over his speech.

“Was what I said really that funny?”

“Yes, you’re funny.” He replied, snickering as he did so. You stopped beside the man, standing only one step below him as you tilted your head slightly. He wiped away a small tear that had formed after his bursts of laughter. “And I’ve decided that I like you. What’s your name?”

“. . . Noé.”

“‘Child of the Ark’, hm? That’s a good name.” Your partner wrapped his arms around your shoulder, leaning his head against the crook of your neck in an intimate fashion. The white-haired man stared in interest at your relationship, with your unfazed expression and body language, it seemed as if your connection with this man ran deeper than he previously assumed. You raised your prosthetic hand, resting it against his as your (e/c) eyes remained focused on Noé. He shivered at the sight.

“I am Vanitas and this is my assistant (Y/n)! I inherited this book and the name from The Vampire of the Blue Moon and I am an average human being!” He announced, bringing his fist up, “Lend me your strength, Noé! Great fighting power, a sturdy body, no doubt you’ll make a fine shield! You’re just like (Y/n)! Except you are not a beautiful woman!”

No way.” He replied.

“I see. I see! You’re happy, aren’t you?” Vanitas smiled, tightening his grip around your neck as he twirled you around playfully. “I just knew you’d say that! (Y/n) was also super excited to work with me as well, can’t you see?”

You blinked several times in response before parting your lips. “Yes, I am very excited.”

Vanitas spun you around and placed his hand around your cheeks, bringing you close to his face as he pouted. You slowly raised your eyebrows at his actions as you brought your hand over his, softly hugging it. “That doesn’t sound very convincing! You have to say it more enthusiastically! You have to say, ‘Yes I am really excited to be working with you, Master!’”

Noé sighed underneath his breath, unsure of what to make of the situation as Vanitas held onto your body with a childish temper. “Would you listen to—?”

“You saw that girl back there, didn’t you? The number of vampires who’ve lost control after their True Names were attacked by maladies is increasing rapidly. If we let things stand without investigating the cause in the not-so-distant future, you vampires—” His eyes widened. “—will be destroyed.”

Vanita smirked. “Let me prevent that for you.” He let go of your body momentarily to continue walking up the steps of the stairs, his smile only widening at Noé’s flabbergasted expressions. “I’ll do as I please. . . use methods I choose. . . and no matter what you people want. . .”

He spun himself around, opening his hand to touch his chest. The blurring light of the stained glass wall illuminated your figures, creating an alluring offer that Noé couldn't believe he'd soon accept. Out of all the people he chose to associate himself with, it had to be with these two.

“. . . I will save you without fail!”

#memoryofthelostfanfic #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte x reader

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yuusa · 3 years ago

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⟡ 𝐈𝐈 | 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

“Vanitas, there’s something I’d like to ask you.” The white-haired man cleared his throat into his closed fist, his purple-shaded eyes trying to make out the scene in front of him. Vanitas only clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes at him.

“What is it? Out with it.”

Noé lowered his gaze, watching as you dragged your prosthetic hand against Vanitas’ lock locks of hair. He was resting his head on your lap, murmuring in content as he felt your fingers pull away the thin knots that had embedded themselves at the base of his neck. You still wore the same attire as before, your hood concealing the colors of your face as you pressed your lips into a thin line. Your belongings had been confiscated the moment you were placed within the cell. As Noé sighed under his breath, you hummed a small tune, letting Vanitas enjoy his small time of rest as you continued to brush through his hair.

“Why are you relaxing on Mlle. (Y/n)’s lap like that in prison? I find it rather rude,” Noé asked, finding the situation to be less than humorous. He raised his hand to press against his aching temple, finding it hard to render his memories. He had not a single clue in his mind as to why he was locked up in a cell with two assaulters. He was sure that only a few minutes ago, he was boarding a ship to explore the city of Paris, but he instead found himself sitting at the center of a jail cell, waiting to be released.

“Mm. A very good question, my dear Noé. Although I have to comment that her thighs are rather nice to lay on. It would be a complete waste to sit here waiting for you to wake up without being comfortable.” He reasoned, giving the man a cheeky smile as Noé only frowned in response.

You continued to brush through his tangled knots of hair, gathering small sections into your hand as you carefully unwinded the strands. You didn’t seem to mind the situation, Noé comments. You were as silent as the soft callings of a gentle wind, your voice hard to hear but still barely audible. He could make out parts of your words but couldn’t decipher the language.

“Qua. . . ex. . . favilla.” You whispered, draping your eyelids over as you hummed. Noé swallows a thick lump that had formed at the base of his throat, his hands tightening around itself as it balled into a fist. He could feel shivers run down his spine at the sound of your voice, finding it rather eerie. As his eyes drifted over to Vanitas, he could only watch as the man continued to smile at you with content, his blue orbs drawn to you as his gloved hands reached for your skin. He gently wiped away at the edges of your lips, his touches displaying warmth. “Huic. . . ergo. . .parce. . .”

“I’ll say it as often as I must, Noé. . . lend me your strength!” Vanitas held out his hand, urging for the man to accept his offer. He had followed the man around throughout the streets of Paris, interrupting the peaceful city with his boisterous laughs that garnered many strange looks. You quietly walked behind him, your hands still tightly clenched onto your coffin as crowds began to turn their heads at you.

“No!” Noé shouted, trying to shrug Vanitas away but with no luck. The man was as desperate as he was annoying, he thought, covering his ears as he continued to listen to the sounds of his whines. He was latched onto his tail like a pest, his attitude too close to a fly that constantly buzzed at the edges of his ears. He had hoped that by walking through the busy streets, he would be able to lose you. However, with Vanitas’ keen eyes and your sharp sense of smell, your group was able to find him through the crowd with ease. It felt almost impossible for Noé to separate himself from Vanitas.

“Why not? What objection could you have?” You squeezed your hands together, intertwining them as you shivered from the cold metal of your prosthetic fingers. It was slightly chilly today, you thought. The wind was blowing slightly in the direction of the busy streets, your eyes are drawn to the sight of groups cuddling into their coats for warmth as puffs of air erupted into the sky. You raised your hand to lower your hood, trying to maintain eye contact with the grey stone ground. “Listen to what I have to say first! If we talk it through you’ll understand!”

“And by the way, where are you going? My, but I’m hungry!” Vanitas complained, laughing soon after he patted his stomach. You flinched at his sudden request, your mind snapping back to reality as you carefully placed your hand against his shoulder. You could faintly hear the sounds of his stomach growling, signifying his desire for food.

“Master, if you would like, we could stop at a nearby bakery. If you are hungry, we should ask him to stop to have a meal. It is quite late after all,” you said, looking towards him with hints of concern as you straighten your back, reeling your hand away from him as they intertwined with each other, “Perhaps we should take a break here for you to eat. It is unwise to skip meals.”

“Non!” He protested, puffing out his cheeks childishly, “We shall follow him until he agrees to lend us his strength!” You blinked multiple times over at his answer but decided to agree with him anyway. If he chose to commit himself to the white-haired man, then you had little choice or objection in the matter. You raised your head towards a nearby clocktower, staring at the time for a little while as you continued walking through the streets.

“You are seriously annoying,” Noé comments, groaning underneath his breath at his child-like personality. He would have never thought such a confident, flamboyant man could act so immaturely in front of others. He wondered if you ever encountered difficulties while working with him. He couldn’t imagine how much agony and pain you must be in after listening to the sounds of his whining. He held his hand towards his flushed face, his vision growing dizzier as he forced himself to continue walking. “I beg your pardon, but there’s a place I must go immediately.”

“In that case, get that errand taken care of!”

Noé sighed again, “You’re coming with me?”

You sucked in a deep breath as you slowly came closer to his side, your hand gently stopping him from continuing any further. He looked up towards you with a mixture of confusion and surprise but quickly relaxed his shoulders at the sight of your smile. Your eyes softened from underneath your hood, your lips parting for a suggestion.

“Monsieur Noé, I would suggest that you stop here to take a break. It is getting quite late and Master is growing quite hungry. If your errand doesn’t run for too long we will continue following you, but please consider Master’s health as it is important.” You said, slowly rubbing his back as you saw him cough into his elbow. “The poison that is embedded in your shoulder is taking effect. You should take a break now as to slow down its course. I estimate that with your current pace and health, you’ll fall ill and remain asleep for roughly half a day.”

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to touch your prosthetic ones. “I am fine Mlle. (Y/n), thank you for your concern but I really do need to collect my belongings. My cat Murr is still waiting for me and I can’t stop until I find him.”

You pressed your lips together in response but slowly brought your arm down, bowing respectfully in front of him, “If you insist, Monsieur Noé. If you still feel fatigued, I will ask you again if you would like to take a break.” His tongue felt dry as he watched you pat down your long skirt, his vision still too blurry to make out a proper image of your face. Your voice sounded quite kind. It was gentle like the wind on spring, soft and peaceful as your words shined with compassion.

You adjusted the straps to your coffin before returning to Vanitas’ side, your head slightly lowered as you continued your journey through the streets of Paris. The blue-eyed man looked up occasionally at you, seeing your eyes drawn to the bright lights of the city. No matter how many times you’ve taken to the streets, you were still mesmerized by the colors that engulfed you. There was so much life living within the city. On your left you could see a young couple giggling to each other, their hands brought together as they wove their fingers into each other. On your right, you could smell the fresh pastries that were still being made. Their scent whiffling through the air.

You began to wonder how life could have been if you and your brother had lived in the city. You would no longer have to worry about the cold winters coming to swallow your house. You could deliver fresh bread to the front of your own house to see his eyes bloom with excitement, his hops bringing joy and life. Your brother would dance across the wooden floors in his oversized, messily buttoned dress shirt that was tucked into the waistband of his pants. His shoes would click against the ground as his soft, tender hands reached for your warm ones, asking you if you could dance with him. You could imagine it so clearly that you thought that perhaps it may have just been some sort of memory you’ve once lost.

After a few minutes of exploring the streets, your group stopped in front of a large crowd. They whispered to each other, women covering the lower halves of their faces with ornate fans as men adjusted their coats. You tilted your head to the sky, noticing a familiar ship that you once previously boarded. Noé points up to its structure, looking back at you with a slightly sick expression.

“All right. . . I’ll just collect my cat and my luggage. I’ll be back.” Noé said, beginning to walk through the crowd but was suddenly stopped by the tugging of his collar. Vanitas stood behind him, his hands twirling the taller man around as he cried out in agony and embarrassment. He stared at him with disappointment, his gloved hands shaking his body around.

“Are you an idiot? Why did you saunter right back to the airship?” He asked, his fingers trembling like a fragile deer. You carefully brought your prosthetic hand to rest upon his, silently gesturing for him to let go of the poor man whose face was close to turning green. Vanitas clicked his tongue as he let go of his collar, glaring at him.

“W-Well, because of my cat. . .” He trailed off, suddenly feeling too sick to continue another word. You worriedly grasped onto his shoulders, a look of concern washing over your face as you frowned. You had hoped that the man took a break somewhere during his journey, but his love for his cat Murr proved to be too strong to resist. You leaned his weight against you, your second hand bringing itself to press against his chest for support.

As quickly as you once previously escaped, a group of police officers rushed over to the scene, their fingers pointing at your group as they shouted. “There he is! That’s him! The intruder!” They quickly ratted out Vanitas, causing the crowd to part like the Red Sea as they gasped. They looked at your group in fear as women fled the scene.

“Curses!” Vanitas shouted, stomping on the ground as Noé dropped to the ground. You winced as you felt your knees hit the floor but you steadily raised him, trying to support the weight of his body.

Vanitas turned to you in a moment of panic, silently pleading for you to have a plan. His eyes flickered back and forth onto you and Noé, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to make a clean escape with you at the cost of Noé, or submit to the authorities. You wiped away at the beads of sweat that had formed on the white-haired man’s temple, listening to his heavy breaths as you looked up at Vanitas. You shook your head slowly, deciding that it would be cruel to leave behind Noé as he struggles with the poison. You doubt that a regular doctor could heal him, you muttered to him, causing Vanitas to sigh underneath his breath, scratching his dark locks of hair before agreeing.

Vanitas sat up from his position, his hair leaving your fingers like sand as he pulled himself away from you. He leaned against the knuckles of his gloved hands, staring up at Noé with a look of disappointment. “—I’d forgotten that you’d been hit with Eglantine’s poison. Your mind was probably barely functioning. If you pushed yourself that hard, of course, you’d collapse. You slept like a rock here for nearly half a day until the poison was out of your system. You should be glad that the medicine (Y/n) gave you saved us at least a whole day. Do you understand now?”

“No, I don’t.” Noé bluntly replied, much to the displeasure of Vanitas who wanted a clear answer from him. After all the trouble he had gone through, Noé had to be one of the more problematic ones with his lack of informing others where he was going. If he knew they were headed back to the airship, Vanitas wouldn’t have so easily chased after him.

“You don’t, hm?” You settled your hands on your lap, your eyes slowly fluttering shut as you took the time to relax your muscles. After a long day of waiting for Noé to wake up, your back was starting to feel tired and you were beginning to ache in your legs. You had a feeling that you would be staying in the cell for quite some time.

Noé turned his head towards Vanitas, his eyes beaming with strange curiosity, “You actually did infiltrate the airship but I just happened to be on the scene. Why did they arrest me too?”

“Because I told them you were my accomplice, moron!” Vanitas stretched out the last word, trying to convince the man of his idiocy as you sighed.

As if surprised by the turn of events, Noé dug through his pants, patting them down until he noticed that there was nothing left within. He was sure that he had left his wallet in his pocket but there was only space. He looked up at Vanitas with a blank expression, “My wallet’s gone.”

Vanitas scratched the back of his neck as he let out a groan, “Yes, they confiscated all our possessions.”

“Huh? The Book of Vanitas too?”

“Of course.”

Noé sighed as you continued to listen to the conversation in silence, not wanting to involve yourself in such trivial discussions. You knew that while it was important to keep within your line of duty as a bodyguard to Vanitas, listening to the cries and pleas of someone who wished to keep the book for themselves grew old. You’ve listened and seen too many stories of Vaintas trying to convince others that he is the sole owner of the book.

“How could you be so calm?” He asked, brushing through his white hair in confusion. He was beginning to worry that without his book being within his presence, he might never be able to understand the true intentions of his teacher, the very person who brought him to Paris in the first place. That thought alone sent shivers down his spine.

“What? Did you want that book?” Vanitas replied, staring into his shocked eyes with a glimmer of excitement and mischief. If it was the book he wanted desperately, then he had enough of a reason to stay and work by his side.

“No!” He hesitated, “I only. . . My teacher informed me of a letter regarding the book. He said something along the lines of, ‘Mon Chaton. . . I wish you fly to Paris immediately. Find the Book of Vanitas without fail. . . and see for yourself. The true character of The Book of Vanitas!’”

Vanitas let out a hum as he placed his thumb underneath his chin, “‘See for yourself. . .’ This teacher of yours has an awfully vague way of putting things.”

Noé looked up at him with a concerned and mixed appearance. He was afraid that there was something more to him that he wasn’t catching on to, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. What was his connection to The Vampire of the Blue Moon? What sort of connection did he have with you? There had to be something more than he isn’t getting, something that he needs to find out for himself.

“What on Earth. . . are you?” Noé asked, watching as the man in question turned his head towards him, his smirk widening.

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” He replied, feeling suddenly interested in his words. “I am an ordinary human and (Y/n) is my assistant who helps me daily. What more do you want?”

“No, I mean how did you get The Book of Vanitas? What is your connection to The Vampire of the Blue Moon?” He waved his hand, trying to clarify his message. “How is Mlle. (Y/n) working for you? There has to be some sort of logical explanation here.”

There came a moment of silence before Vanitas suddenly interrupted, breaking the barrier. His eyes shined in a moment of eureka as he jumped to his feet. “Hang on, Noé!” He quickly backed the man up against the stone wall, his fingers pointing into his chest. The two of them were locked in a staring contest as you quietly sat on the ground.

“If it’s The Book of Vanitas you’re after, you should come with us. Why this stubborn refusal to help?” He accused, causing the white-haired man to look back at him with a moment of disbelief.

“Y-You’re right!” He gasped. He looked off into space for a moment, pondering to himself. Despite the unusual situation that had accumulated around your group today, Noé decided to make it even more peculiar as he slammed his forehead against the wall. You and Vanitas twitched in unison, feeling a sudden rush of imaginary pain shooting through you as you grimaced. He spun towards Vanitas, his eyes brightening in color. “I see. . . I’ve got it, Vanitas!”

“I suspect. . . I just don’t like you very much!” He proposed, staring at his blue eyes with a moment of suspicion and confusion. Vanitas froze in place, looking at him as if his soul had been sucked out of his own body at his words. Noé waved his arms around, his facial expression reflecting deep concern. “What should I do? For my teacher’s sake, I should probably go with you, but listening obediently to someone I don’t like is bad for my mental health, or rather, it’s physiologically impossible! Perhaps I can only listen to Mlle. (Y/n) as she is much more kind and forgiving than you are!”

“Uh. . . Yes, what should we do, hm?” Vanitas replied, dropping down to your side as he cradled you into his arms. You awkwardly began to flush a dark shade of red at his actions but raised your hand to brush through his dark locks of hair. He squeezed his arms around your waist tightly, bringing his face close to yours as he began to whine. “(Y/n)! You don’t think I’m that unlikeable, am I? Please tell me!”

You blinked in surprise but casually maintained your composure. “I think you are very likable Master. You’re very strong and I’m sure that you are more than capable of helping Monsieur Noé in his discovery of The Book of Vanitas.”

He jumped to his feet, his confidence seemingly coming back to him like lightning. He pointed over towards Noé with a rather smug expression. “Haha! Look at that! I have a loyal follower who believes in me! With (Y/n)’s support, I believe you should lend us your strength!”

“You are asking someone who calls you Master instead of your name! At this point, you are just taking advantage of Mlle. (Y/n)’s kindness!”

Your group suddenly stopped talking once you heard the door dreaming open, revealing an officer in his uniform. He held out a slip of paper, offering it to you as you stood from your position. You pressed your lips together before kindly thanking him for the delivery, your eyes drifting over the words as you read through the contents quickly. Vanitas huffed in response, feeling slightly offended by the words of Noé.

Vanitas let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms out as the door slammed shut behind him. You stood by his side, brushing away the small pieces of dust that had been stuck to the edges of his clothes. “They kept us longer than I thought they would,” he comments, staring off into space. “As far as humans are concerned, you vampires are ‘forgotten beings.’ Now so vampire-related incidents that occur on ‘This Side’ have to be completely erased.”

Noé tilted his head to the side in curiosity, unknown of this fact. “You mean they hushed it up?”

“Yes, pretty much,” Vanitas waved his hand around, “The vampires probably arranged things with the humans.” He twisted his body to face the white-haired man, swinging the slip of paper that you once held around his fingers. You adjusted the front of your hood, staring out at the open windows. “Noé, this is an invitation from the Count.”

“The Count?”

“He says to come to this address to collect our confiscated possessions and the things we left on the airship.”

At that moment, realization slammed into Noé like a pile of bricks as he shouted out his cat’s name in worry. He lifted his arms in excitement, hoping that wherever Murr was, he was safe with the Count. He had been worried sick throughout his wait in jail and he couldn’t help but feel overly joyous at the thought of seeing Murr again.

“Come with us. We’ll take you there. He has my things too,” Vanitas said, your head nodding at his words as you followed him through the long hallways.

“Do you mean it?” Noé asked, his eyes brightening as you and Vanitas looked towards each other. You gave the man a small smile as your group continued to walk through the building. You held your hands in front of you as the echoing of your heels rang through the halls. You quietly lurked behind the black-haired man, scanning your surroundings. It seems as if a few hours had passed since Noé woke up. “That’s a great help. It’s my first time in Paris, you know!”

You only nod once more, your regular hand fumbling with the edges of your prosthetic. Noé watched as you opened a small compartment in your elbow, your eyes drawing themselves over your astermite stone. Earlier in the day, the police had asked if they could confiscate your arm as well, deeming it as a hazard but Vanitas was able to convince them that you needed to keep it on. You sighed as your nails dug themselves through the crooks of the black material, pulling out small strands of Vaintas’ hair that had been lodged inside. It clicked several times in response as you adjusted the movements of your fingers, making it easier to pick up items.

“Mlle. (Y/n), how is it that you can have a prosthetic?” He asked, curiosity filling up his veins as he focused his attention on the crackling of your arm. “As vampires, you should have enough regenerative abilities to create a new arm. Is there a reason why you wear a prosthetic instead?”

You smiled at him, bringing your arm towards him as you allowed him to inspect the inner workings. “It is possible for vampires to wear prosthetics, although the process of getting one is not the best,” Your lips faltered for a moment as your eyes caved into thin sheets of darkness, “I’m not entirely sure if you are familiar with the practice of cauterization.”

“Cauterization? Is that. . .” He trailed off, his body pausing his movements.

“When you burn a part of your body to seal your wounds.” You finished, your eyes fluttering shut as he felt his blood run cold. He pressed his lips together as Vanitas looked back at your group, watching as your eyes turned away from him. For what reason did you cauterize your arm? Noé asked himself. He had never heard of someone who had willingly decided to go through with the process. He could only imagine the amount of pain it was. Why? Why did you do it then? He squeezed your prosthetic hand as he bit the bottom of his lips. Did you. . . not have a choice? His gloved hands removed themselves from your arm, letting it drop to your side as you continued walking.

“This process destroys your living tissues to an immense degree. This process was used after I had been amputated as a way to keep me from regenerating.” You explained, your regular hand squeezing at the ebony metal as you continued to smile, “My skin is. . . still charred but I recently got my arm replaced only a few years ago by Master.”

You flinched as you saw his lowered gaze, his hand falling away from you as he walked beside you in silence. You frowned as you thought to yourself. Did you do something to disturb his feelings? You wondered. Was it something that you said that brought back painful memories for him? You parted your lips for a response, your words coming out short and soft, “I believe that you are hurt by my words but I can assure you that I am fine.”

You squeezed your prosthetic arm even tighter, your nails digging into the crooks as you walked through the front doors. “There’s no need for you to worry about me, Monsieur Noé.”

“—This is it.” Your heels clicked against the ground as you suddenly stopped in front of a large building. You tilted your head to look at Vanitas’ exhausted figure, his breaths coming out heavy and he struggled to breathe. “The Galerie Valentine,” he raised his arm, pointing at the large sign.

“Why are you so tired, Vanitas?” Noé comments. Compared to Vanitas who was sweating bullets down his chin, you and Noé were completely fine. When you are vampires, it was hard to say when your bodies experienced actual exhaustion. You gave the man a small smile.

Vanitas lets out a string of wheezes, trying to catch his breath as he placed his hands on his knees, “Because somebody kept disappearing the moment I took my eyes off of him! What are you, a child?” You quietly brought your hand towards the surface of his back, rubbing it gently as his breaths came to a slow rhythm. As you were about to ask him if he needed a break, he only shook his head, almost as if he had read your mind.

Your group explored the halls of Galerie Valentine, your eyes staring out at the bright windows in fascination. Many people were walking through the building, chattering amongst themselves. You could smell the fresh scent of coffee circulating through the air, filling up your lungs as you let out a deep exhale. You adjusted the front of your cape coat, hoping that with this many people around, their attention would be driven away from you. You stuck close to Vanitas, your eyes glancing back and forth at Noé once in a while. You could tell by the look on his face that his excitement was bubbling up to the base of his throat, threatening to spill out.

“Is the vampire who had us released here?” He asks, hoping that he would be able to meet the kind soul that allowed him to part from the cell. For him, it seemed rather painful to explore the streets of Paris with Vanitas but having to stay in a cell with him was a much different story. It was like taking care of a crying child who wouldn’t stop begging for your attention, however, in this case, it was Vanitas requesting Noé to join him in his cause.

“That’s right. After the old war, vampires were forbidden to drink human blood, and most of them disappeared beyond the barrier. Even so, many vampires still live in the human world.” Vanitas’ hands reached out to open one of the glass doors leading to a large, spiral staircase. “There is one appointed by the Queen to keep a watchful eye on vampire activities here in Paris and to preserve the balance between human and vampire worlds.”

“That’s this man—” Vanitas smiled, parting the wide door. “Lord of the other world, Count Parks Orlok.”

Noé watched as you rushed forward, raising your hands to grasp at two wrists, bringing their sharpened nails to the air. They flinched in response, quickly flying back to keep their distance. You lowered your arms as your lips formed a frown from underneath your hood. Noé was surprised to see how fast your reaction time was, he could barely even see what was going on at the other side of the door.

Your eyes fluttered shut, “You requested for our presence, Count Parks Orlok,” you announced, bowing respectfully in front of him before straightening your back. Your hooded cape coat slipped slightly, revealing parts of your (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. “We’ve come to reclaim our belongings.”

Orlok raised his hand towards you from the desk, “No need to be so formal with me S—(Y/n), I’m sure that man has been a lot of trouble for you already.” The man suddenly cleared his throat midsentence, adjusting his words as he raised his head towards you. In his hands was an envelope which was folded neatly against itself. You nod in response to his comment before stepping back, allowing Vanitas to walk closer to the center of the room. He turned his attention towards Vanitas, his scarred face producing a hardened expression. He was wearing a monocle that had been placed underneath his scar, the weight of his head settling on the palm of his hand. “So you’re the human who’s passing himself off as ‘Vanitas.’”

He dropped the envelope onto his neatly assorted desk, sighing underneath his breath. “I’ve heard much about this ‘human who calls himself a vampire doctor.’ They tell me you actively seek out and make contact with curse-bearing vampires.”

You turned away from him, watching as Orlok’s assistant, Nox, offer back your coffin. You could tell that she was struggling to lift the case as shown by the small beads of sweat that had broken out on her face. You awkwardly smiled at her, whispering a quiet word of gratitude as you wrapped your prosthetic hand around the strap, pulling it over your shoulder. Vanitas stared down at his pile of belongings, quickly noticing a missing piece.

“Something seems to be missing.” He comments, clearly referring to a certain book. “Count! Let’s stop beating around the bush, shall we? The culprit behind the serial murders hasn’t been caught yet, have they? You can’t really have time to waste on me.”

Vanitas squeezed the side of his arm before sitting down on one of the nearby couches, making himself comfortable as he smirked. “I’ll be blunt. Return The Book of Vanitas and Amelia Ruth to me. I still have questions to ask her. I’ll thank you not to take liberties with my former patient.”

“Huh? Vanitas, Mlle. Amelia is alright, isn’t she?” Noé asks, staring into Vanitas’ bright, blue eyes with an expression of concern. “I thought she’d already been set free, like us. . .” He looked at you, pleading for an answer to which you only gave him a hesitant nod, unable to truly express the words to reveal to him the end fate of the woman. If the Count was as traditional as he seems, there is a chance that Amelia Ruth had already. . . been executed.

Orlok let out a huff, intertwining his hands to place beneath his chin. “There’s no need to worry. It has been decided that we will take responsibility and dispose of that vampire. We cannot allow curse-bearers to live. Once the bourreau arrives, the formalities will—”

“Count! Wait! Please!” Noé gasps, trying to convince the older man to provide him with some sort of reasonable explanation. He knew that from the moment he saw Amelia’s tears of joy that she had been saved from her suffering. To think that despite all of that, she would still be executed, was a thought he couldn’t believe. “Mlle. Amelia is already cured!”

“. . . Cured? By this book, was it?” Orlok held up The Book of Vanitas, its chains tightly wrapped around its form. His eyes hardened at the man in front of him, challenging him to speak another word towards him.

“That’s right! I saw him restore Mlle. Amelia with the power of The Book of Vanitas! So—”

“Balderdash!” Everyone stopped in their tracks as the Orlok slammed his fist onto the desk, his anger coursing through his veins as the table shook as if it was in fear. Orlok glared at Noé with heated hatred burning through his eyes. “Do you take that man’s nonsense seriously? Cursed grimoires do not exist! This thing is mere rubbish!”

Vanitas let out a loud, rambunctious laugh as he tilted his head back, feeling humored by the man’s accusations. You silently made your way close to him, allowing the man with blue hair to caress your prosthetic hand as you stood beside him. “Precisely! While you have it, it’s mere rubbish. I, its owner, am the only one who can even open the book, you see!” He announced, “I expected that I was summoned because you managed to steal the book but didn’t know how to use it. Couldn’t you just say, ‘please teach me how to use the book?’”

“Besides. . .” He teasingly kissed your prosthetic knuckles, a smirk crawling up to his face as Orlok felt a thin string of sweat drip from his temple. “If what I was saying mere rubbish, what sort of explanation do you have for (Y/n)’s loyalty to me? Certainly, with her presence, you should believe in what I have to say.”

The man clicked his tongue, staring at your blank figure as you loomed over Vanitas, letting the man deliver one final kiss to your metallic fingers. He could feel his blood boil at the sight of him, his fists trembling as he struggled to remain calm in the face of heat. He let out a sigh underneath his breath. “You’ve spoken with Amelia, haven’t you? It should have been perfectly obvious that she was in her right mind.”

“She merely happened to be calm.” Vanitas snapped back, leaning his head against his palm as he crossed his legs.

“I don’t know what trickery you used, but she’s sure to turn violent again soon.”

“Are you that reluctant to admit that The Book of Vanitas exists?” Vanitas taunted, attempting to get underneath his skin.

“Upon discovery, curse-bearers must be isolated and beheaded by a bourreau! That has been our way since the old days! Listen human!” He raised his voice, tightening his fists into a ball. “It’s impossible for a vampire whose true name has been defiled to return to normal!”

Vanitas laughed back, “This is exactly the problem with senile old fools who chain themselves to past conventions and stop thinking!”

Before anyone could make out another word from his lips, Noé slammed his foot into the table, sending it flying across the room. Your eyes widened in shock at his sudden actions, looking at him in a moment of disbelief. Papers and typewriters flew into the larges shelf, knocking down several books that splattered across the ground. You frowned as your group turned to him with a stunned expression, wondering what had gotten to the white-haired man. He had been so quiet and dormant earlier but it looked as if he was growing impatient by the direction of the conversation.

“. . . All right,” Noé said, angling his head down as he tightened his group around The Book of Vanitas. Orlok’s eyes widened in shock as he stared back at his empty hand, seeing that the book had vanished. “The vampire incidents that are the talk of Paris right now. . . they’re the work of a curse bearer as well, aren’t they?”

He stood up straight, looking towards the older man with fierce determination. “In that case. . . we’ll capture the culprit and bring them here! Then I’ll have him use the power of The Book of Vanitas right before your eyes! You say you can’t trust his word or mine, or even Mlle. (Y/n)’s, even though we are of your race! Then see what The Book of Vanitas truly is with your own eyes!”

Orlok clicked his tongue in response, feeling as if he needed to back down for him to make his point. Although he had his various doubts about the power of the book and Vanitas himself, he couldn’t help but put a piece of his faith within them. His eyes drew themselves over to your figure, watching as you pressed your lips together, your (e/c) eyes glimmering underneath the chandelier lights. He could feel a sense of determination from you, something that he hadn’t seen in ages. He paused for a moment, thinking to himself before deciding on his choice.

“. . . Very well. I’ll stay Amelia Ruth’s execution by one day—but only one.”

Noé quickly wrapped his coat around his arm, rushing out of the room as he gave the man a polite bow, “Thank you very much!” He said, throwing The Book of Vanitas towards the black-haired man. Due to his immense speed, it slammed into his nose, causing a string of blood to pool from his nostrils.

“Bwuh?” He whimpered, looking up at the man with confusion and joy.

“Why are you spacing out? Let’s get moving Vanitas!” Noé shouted, eagerly shoving the doors open as the man quickly followed suit. He had a bright smile on his face, his eyes sparkling with excitement and happiness.

“Huh? Oh! Have you finally decided to help me, Noé?” Vanitas smiled, ignoring the bloodstain that was beginning to form on his clothes. He was so excited on the inside that he overlooked the stains. Your eyes widened at his sudden decision but decided that with Noé helping Vanitas on his job, there might be a lot more adventures to come.

“No!” Noé protested.

“Huh?”

“I am not helping you.” Noé gripped onto the collar of Vanitas, bringing him close to his face. The black-haired man looked up at him with a blank expression, surprised by his sudden change of tone. “You are helping me!”

Vanitas’ raised his eyebrows in interest for a moment before bursting out into a peal of laughter, finding the situation humorous. He slapped his hand against the white-haired man’s shoulder, his chuckles raining throughout the hallway, “Brillant! I knew it. You really are interesting!”

You squeezed your hand into a fist as you brought your prosthetic arm over your hood, patting down the material as you turned towards the door. As you walked closer towards Vanitas’ fading figure, you were suddenly stopped by the sound of Orlok’s voice calling out to you. He waved his hand, gesturing for you to come back into the room. You pressed your lips into a thin line as you slowly turned to face him, your head tilted up.

“(Y/n). . .” He started, “Are you really tailing that man? You could come back to work underneath Lord Ruthven, I’m sure he could offer you a much better job than to be an assistant to that human. You might even be able to work under me if you desired.”

He pulled his hands behind his back, staring at you with a softening expression. “Please, just come with us and you can be given a better life. You don’t need to follow him around, you’ll only put yourself into more danger. Don’t let Vanitas take advantage of you.”

You squeezed the strap to your coffin tightly, your hands trembling as you thought to yourself. While you could have easily declined Vanitas’ offer for a job many years ago after discovering your body, you couldn’t help but feel as if you would be missing out on something. You wondered if your life could have been easier if you had simply left him behind.

‘Live. . . with my memory,’ he repeated.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you raised your hand, pulling down your hood to reveal your (e/c) eyes. Your prosthetic arm clicked as you brought your hand close to your chest, squeezing the fabric of your clothes. “Count Parks Orlok,” You said, giving him a forceful smile. “I appreciate your offer but there’s something I need to do here. I. . .”

You felt your cold tears rise in temperature. The color of your face being drained as you stared at the claret snow. You sat on the ground, unmoving as you watched your single tear drip down your (s/c) cheeks, falling and shattering upon the impact of his skin.

“I can’t help but feel as if there is something within me that I am missing,” you added, looking up at him with your hands tightly clenched into a fist. “I won’t leave Master Vanitas’ side until I recovered my memories.”

Your voice cracked slightly, your eyes trembling. “Please understand my wishes.”

#memoryofthelostfanfic #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte x reader

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yuusa · 3 years ago

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⟡ 𝐈𝐕 | 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

Her smile cracked slightly as she narrowed her eyes, reeling back her weapon with her prosthetic arm as she swung it towards Jeanne. She quickly parried her attack, bringing her gauntlet close to her chest to act as a shield. The (h/c) woman tilted her head to the side, twisting the position of Lacrimosa to fire at the base of Jeanne’s foot.

Despite it being seen as a weak, inaccurate shot, it gave her enough information about Jeanne’s reflex speed and positioning. The white-haired woman dodged it with ease by jumping back, creating more distance between her and the Cleaner. With a couple of seconds of staring each other down, the Cleaner’s lips curved into a smile as she dashed forward, keeping her weapon close to the ground. Based on Jeanne’s memory of her fighting skills, her prosthetic arm could carry a much heavier weight than an average vampire, leaving her extremely agile. As she clicked her tongue, the Cleaner found it right to believe that from the weight of Jeanne’s gauntlet and wide sweep, her movements would be confined to a certain distance. Although this brought her a small advantage as she has more control over the situation. Jeanne’s eyes flickered across the ground, trying to memorize the patterns of her footwork as she remained in a fixed level of distance, her hand throwing her g n forward as she fired a clean shot.

“Why are you helping a human?” She asked, glaring at her from across the darkened hallway. Jeanne raised her gauntlet, causing the bullet to ricochet off of the surface. From pure impulse alone, the Cleaner calmly tilted her head out of the way for a near-miss of the bullet. Jeanne was able to recover quickly from the block, giving her a gutshot from her fist, knocking her onto her back from the momentum. She readied her secondary sword for a quick strike to her chest but as she brought down her weapon, the Cleaner was able to quickly brace Lacrimosa against her body, using her prosthetic arm as a brace to fortify her parry. “Why are you siding with someone who has The Book of Vanitas?”

The Cleaner gave her a devious laugh, “What are you talking about? Shouldn’t it be obvious to you?” As the sword hummed from the strike to her weapon, the Cleaner was able to roll onto her right side, taking a swift kick to Jeanne’s left knee. She grunts in reply, sending her over the edge of rapture. The Cleaner shivered at the sight of Jeanne’s bloodstained clothes, her lips parting themselves as she licked away the fragments of crimson at the edges of her mouth. “How has everything been treating you, Hellfire Witch Jeanne? I am dying to hear how you managed to survive the war with your hesitance.”

“I always thought you would only last a few seconds into the war! To think that someone like you could kill a thousand of your own kin is surprising enough, but to survive the war with your cowardliness? How pathetic.” Once bringing her down to her level, the Cleaner delivered one more kick straight to her chin, knocking Jeanne out for only a millisecond. Her body convulsed with agonizing spasms, the force of her kick bringing her near the edge. The Cleaner’s hands reached out to grip her face, staring deep into her golden eyes with her crimson orbs, “Did you pray to God when we met?”

Within the blink of an eye, Jeanne grabbed ahold of her ankle with Carpe Diem and spun her around in the air. The Cleaner grits her teeth as she focused up, raising Lacrimosa towards Jeanne to take a shot at her crimson gauntler. She only tightened her grip around the Cleaner’s ankle as she continued to figure several shots that bounced. Once she aimed at the side of Jeanne’s ear, the white-haired woman brought her up one last time, the force of her arm sending the Cleaner towards the ground. However, she swiftly skipped against the concrete floor like a rock on water, watching as Jeanne breathed heavily. She could see beads of sweat form at her chin, the bruised surface growing in color as she smiled.

Able to slow down her roll, the (h/c) woman readied herself to take a shot within a few meters. She pulled the trigger, closing the gap as the bullet scraped against Jeanne’s gauntlet. She readies herself one more to shoot back with the palm of Carpe Diem. The Cleaner’s eyes widened as she quickly pulled herself up on one of the rooftops, watching as the blast swallowed the entirety of the alleyway. She fired another shot from the top of the building, drilling her bullet into Jeanne’s left shoulder. She swallowed a thick lump that had formed at the base of her throat as she let out a squeal of agony, her teeth grinding against each other as her wounds slowly began to close.

Out of frustration, the white-haired woman charges towards the Cleaner, bringing her back onto the ground as she slammed her back against the concrete ground. The Cleaner gasped in response, the wind being knocked out of her as she stared up at Jeanne with her carmine eyes. She pulled out her secondary sword, piercing through the Cleaner’s left thigh. Her grip on Lacrimosa loosens as Jeanne’s injured arm reached for it, driving her bayonet into the (h/c) woman, splitting her nerves in half. She let out a scream at the intense pain before biting down on the tip of her tongue, silencing herself. Jeanne reeled her fist back, delivering a swift punch to shatter the Cleaner’s ribs with Carpe Diem. The (h/c) woman winced as she glared at her, blood spilling from her lips as she trembled.

The Cleaner’s vision was growing hazy but she quickly kicked Jeanne’s knee with enough force to dislocate her joint. The woman takes a hard fall to the ground, hitting the base of her chin as she gripped the Cleaner’s leg in distress. The (h/c) Cleaner takes a deep breath as she ripped her bayonet out of her shoulder, her prosthetic arm gripping the weapon as she pointed it at Jeanne, pulling the trigger as soon as they locked eyes. However, Jeanne was quick to slap the barrel away from her, causing the bullet to miss and collide with the dirt. The Cleaner swings the barrel back towards her body, scathing Jeanne’s left arm as she swiftly jumps to her feet, her heels clicking against the ground as they both released heavy breaths.

Jeanne struggles to bring herself up from the ground as the Cleaner rushed forward, her heartbeat quickening as her legs took her further beyond. Her bayonet sliced through Jeanne’s right thigh as Jeanne gripped onto the barrel, attempting to shift the Cleaner’s aim to the ground but she blew an apple-sized hole into the side of her leg, causing Jeanne to cry out in pain. The Cleaner sucked in a breath as she tore out Jeanne’s sword from her thigh, the wound healing itself. Jeanne watched fearfully as the hole closed itself almost immediately, the blood of Vanitas keeping her regenerative abilities at their peak. She clicked her tongue as she snapped her knees in their proper place, her head tilting themselves up to stare into the Cleaner’s cerise eyes. The (h/c) woman raised Lacrimosa with her prosthetic arm, her lips curving into a mischievous smile as she fired another shot into Jeanne’s arm.

Jeanne raised Carpe Diem towards the Cleaner, readying herself to take one more blast. The (h/c) woman only looked towards her in interest as her prosthetic arm clicked and crackled. She brought Lacrimosa up at the same time Jeanne fired her last round, the blast from her explosion plowing through her left arm as it tore itself away. The torque of the shot throws the Cleaner back a few feet but she grounded herself, seemingly unaffected by the loss of her arm. Jeanne flinched as she watched her lick the remaining blood that stained her cheeks, her eyes caving into a darker shade of red. Before she could take another step forward, she was immediately stopped by the sound of Vanitas’ footsteps, his voice echoing within the broken alleyway.

“That’s enough. Don’t kill her.” The Cleaner huffed in disappointment while Vanitas hummed. Suddenly, her eyes widened at the sound of his fingers snapping, causing her body to jerk and convulse before she dropped to the ground, the shade of red in her eyes fading into (e/c).

You let out a breath of air, letting out a bloodcurdling screech as you gripped onto your missing arm with your prosthetic hand. You dropped to your knees, surprising the white-haired woman who looked back at you with concern. You bit down on your tongue, squeezing your eyes shut as your arm painfully regenerated itself. Vanitas brought out his pocket watch, staring at the white-haired woman with an unamused expression. The black-haired man loomed over your body, his hand pressing itself the top of your (h/c) hair as you violently coughed. “Even with her arm being blown off, she would have killed you if I hadn’t intervened. Perhaps you should give me a sign of thanks for saving your life like that.”

“You were the one who ordered her to kill me!” Jeanne let out a heavy breath, shouting at him, “What the hell was that? You knew. . .” She narrowed her golden eyes at him, “You knew she wouldn’t fight me on her own so you forced her to ingest your blood! What kind of sick person are you?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly it.” Vanitas buzzed, clicking his pocket watch as he tilted his head back slightly. He had a look of boredom spreading across his face. “I’m sure (Y/n) doesn’t mind though, after all, I am the one in control of her. Although. . . I was expecting something more from you but that was disappointing.”

You shivered as you slowly stood up, your prosthetic hand still gripping at your regenerating limb. Vanitas only smiled. “The Vampire of the Blue Moon often told me stories of the ‘Hellfire Witch,’ the young warrior maiden who raced over battlefields, mercilessly routing her own kind—He said you were so beautiful it made him shudder. Afterward, they put you into an induced slumber. When I heard Lord Ruthven had awakened you after all this time, I was thrilled yet. . .”

He grinned, “I never imagined you’d have degenerated this much! You nearly pissed yourself at the sight of (Y/n)!”

“What are you trying to say?” The white-haired woman glared back at him, angling her head to give him a look of frustration. The black-haired man let out a huff as he dropped The Book of Vanitas onto the ground, the book landing on its corner and falling helplessly.

“I’m saying I’m tired of playing with you,” he raised his left hand, “Oh, that’s right. Haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? My name is Vanitas. I am a mere human who inherited the name and The Book of Vanitas from The Vampire of the Blue Moon—”

He squeezed his arms, staring menacingly at her, “and from whom that vampire once drank, my body has been invested with a portion of his power. I belong to the Clan of the Blue Moon!” He threateningly reached for the glove on his left hand, “I had hoped to avoid using this power if possible, Hellfire Witch. Allow me to show you my ‘true form!’” You silently watched from the sidelines as Jeanne took several steps back, preparing herself for a large-scale attack from him.

“Jeanne!” Luca shouted, walking into the scene and distracting the white-haired woman. Her eyes turned their attention to him but were quickly pulled away by the crashing of the Nine-Fold Murderer. Her eyes widened as she twisted her body towards the wolf-like creature, leaving a clear opening for the man to bite her neck. Blood splattered across her clothes as she forcefully slammed the man against the wall behind her. Vanitas lifted his book off of the floor with the chain, raising it to her.

“Yep! Just as I thought!” He snapped open the book, “Fighting monsters is best left to other monsters!” Bright light from The Book of Vanitas created a large attack, blinding those within its radius. You shut your eyes tightly, shielding yourself from the sight as Jeanne rolled into the floor, grinding against it.

The black-haired man stared down at her, scoffing. “As if I’d really have such a convenient ace up my sleeve. Just stay quiet and watch from there, Fallen Witch.” Her eyes widened in shock as she tilted her head towards him. “Now then. I’ve kept you waiting, Nine-Fold Murderer. Your lupine appearance, our habit of prowling in search of the lifeblood of young women on moonlit nights. . . Malnomen. . . Loup-Garou, the wolf who hunts crimson.”

He brought his book in front of him, “Come! Let’s have you return that man’s True Name!” You squinted your eyes, your vision adjusting itself to the sight of the once beastly figure fading into a regular human. Thomas Berneux dropped to the ground with a loud thud, his head hitting the floor as the group stared in amazement. No matter how many times you see for yourself, you couldn’t help but feel impressed by Vanitas’ abilities. You gently flexed your fully regenerated left arm, finding comfort in being able to move it around freely.

“Oh drat,” Vanitas said, realizing a grave mistake on his end. He was too distracted by the presence of Luca and Jeanne that he had completely forgotten that he needed to bring Thomas Berneux to Count Orlok. “This guy. . . I was supposed to cure him in Orlok’s presence.”

“No need,” A voice called out from beyond the buildings, the figure of Count’s assistants looming over the edge. “My sister and I watched it all, as Count Orlok’s eyes.”

“We will tell Master Parks what took place here, just as we saw it.”

Suddenly, your group snapped their heads towards Jeanne, her body struggling to stand up as she glared at Vanitas. The man clicked his tongue at the sight of her, “You must be joking. You took the poison from Loup-Garou’s fangs and the same paralysis I inflicted on Berneux!”

“Not. . . yet. I can still fight!” She screamed, cradling Carpe Diem. Her eyes widened as you slowly brought yourself in front of Vanitas, your hand outstretched to create a barrier. She swallowed a thick lump that had formed at the base of her throat her fingers twitching as she listened to the sounds of your heavy breaths. Despite having your arm torn off in a game that Vanitas created, you had more than enough strength to defend him. Your loyalty was something she couldn’t comprehend.

“Noé! Come out!” Jeanne turned her head to the sound of footsteps, seeing Noé carrying Luca by his torso and muffling his mouth. Her eyes widened in fear as Vanitas wiped away the dust from his clothes.

“All right. Hellfire Witch. You catch my meaning, don’t you?” He brought out his hand in a claw-like motion. “Just try to make one false move and my underling will snap that brat’s scrawny neck in a heartbeat!”

You flinched as Jeanne reached out to you, pleading to you as droplets of tears began to form at the edges of her eyes. “I lose! I won’t do anything anymore! You can do anything you want to me, so just—Just don’t hurt him!”

Your heart began to thump against the front of your chest, your mind too hazy to make out a clear understanding of the situation. She looked into your (e/c) eyes, getting a glimpse of the window of a soul that you held. There was a sense of misery residing within you, a desperate cry that was screaming to her. She swallowed a thick lump of saliva that had been sitting in her throat.

Perhaps this was the moment she realized there was more to you than she had originally thought. The merciless Cleaner that she once saw on the battlefront was no longer in front of her. While there were splotches of blood that crept upon her clothing, the look of sincerity was clear as day. Jeanne’s eyes met with a kind woman of (h/c) hair, her lips trembling as she let out small murmurs beneath her breath. She looked as if she had been underneath a spell, controlled by a will much stronger than her own. You slowly raised your prosthetic hand to her arm, the cool sensation sending shivers down her spine. The cold look in your eyes had long faded since the end of the battle. You were only left with a semblance of a youthful woman.

“So that boy truly is your weakness, hm? Why the tears? This weak attitude?” Vanitas laughed, drawing her out of your gaze as she stepped back in surprise. The man brought his hands around your waist, squeezing it tightly as he brought himself behind you. You let out a deep breath, your gaze meeting with his for a split second as your cheeks began to dye themselves a shade of cerise. “You gave yourself something to protect. That’s why you’re weak.”

“But. . . this is good.” His face morphed into satisfaction as he brought his hand towards yours, grasping it gently. The white-haired woman watched carefully as he gave you a tender kiss on the knuckles, a silent gesture of an apology. You angled your head away from her, shielding your eyes from the woman. “I take back what I said, Hellfire Witch. You’ve grown weak. That’s true. However. . . that very weakness heightens your beauty.”

“Hellfire Witch. No, Jeanne.” He said, “You’ve come to interest me greatly, you know? I’ve always been curious to see who was stronger but now I truly have my answer.”

She clicked her tongue before jumping back, meeting up with Luca as her hands tightened around her coffin. She wiped away a bead of sweat that had formed at the side of her temple, the liquid becoming cold from the air. She glared at Vanitas with hate, something that she never thought she would hold for the man, “We’ll withdraw for today. But remember this! Next time, I’ll kill you! I’ll come to kill you, I swear it!”

“You’ll come to see me? I can’t wait!” Vanitas joyfully replied, watching as she screamed. She quickly rushed out of the area with Lucas in her arms, bouncing off of buildings until they were out of sight. The black-haired man only childishly waved at them, listening to the sounds of chaos behind him as he let out a laugh.

With a breath you never knew you held, you let go. You collapsed onto your knees as you dropped your weapon, Lacrimosa bucking slightly. You breathed heavily as you reached out to touch your prosthetic arm, feeling nothing but the stickiness of blood being lodged within its cracks. The faint sounds of footsteps came forth, their figure kneeling in front of you. You looked up with an expression of remorse and fear. Vanitas reached out to softly caress your cheek, his gloved hands making circular motions on your (s/c) skin. You exhaled a deep sigh as he brought you into his arms, cradling you. Your hands reached up to grip at his shoulders, your lips quivering as your body shook. He only smiled as his opposite hand dragged themselves across your (h/c) hair, smoothening out the locks.

The look of desperation and pity had always brought him a sense of calm. The expression you gave him always made his heart flutter like petals on the streets of Paris. You were a woman of restraint. It drove him over the edge to see you at the peak of self-destruction. He leaned forward to deliver you a kiss on the tips of your ears, pulling himself back to witness your flushed appearance.

“I love you, (Y/n).”

#memoryofthelostfanfic #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas

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yuusa · 3 years ago

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⟡ 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒

“SOOO how old is the reader in this? What is her preferences when it comes to clothing?” You read out loud, causing Vanitas and Noé to stare at you in interest. You neatly folded the paper back into its envelope, placing your thumb underneath your chin as you thought to yourself. Vanitas playfully wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as you let out a sigh from under your breath.

You smiled, your (e/c) eyes turning away to the side, “I would say I am around the same age as Master or Monsieur Noé?” You scratched the edge of your cheek bashfully, “Sorry, I don’t really have much information about my birthday. I lost track of time after being in an unconscious state for years.”

“You still look pretty young if you’re around our age,” Vanitas pouted, poking the side of your cheek, “Is it because you’re a vampire? I heard that vampires tend to stop aging but those are rare cases. I wonder how old you’d look when you’re about two thousand years old.”

He hummed to himself, a small bubble appearing over the top of his head as you stared up at it. You grimaced at the sight of an old woman with (h/c) hair, her back too fragile to support herself as her wrinkled hands gripped tightly onto a wooden cane. She cried out in a croaky, hoarse voice, her skin withering away with creases as Vanitas howled in laughter. He reeled himself back, holding onto his stomach with both of his hands as he continued to snicker.

“I-I’m not going to look like that!” You waved your hand, brushing aside the cloud as it disappeared into thin air. “B-Besides. . . I’m not entirely sure how vampires are even able to age in the first place. . .”

“But. . . Count looks pretty old,” Noé comments, causing a thin bead of sweat to drip from the side of your cheek. You weren’t entirely sure about how old he was either. You assumed that once a vampire had reached a certain age in adulthood, they begin to age much slower as time continues. You pressed the envelope against the tips of your finger, toying with its edges as you pushed your lips together to form a thin line.

Vanitas sighed as he brushed through his long, black locks of hair. He sat back down onto a chair, leaning against its backrest as he tilted his head up, a mocking smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, but you don’t know how old that fool is. He might be as old as a mummy at this point.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy to hear that.”

You cleared your throat before raising the letter, whiffing it through the air from between your fingers. “I presume. . . its time for us to answer the second question then.” You stared down at the letter, thinking to yourself as Vanitas whistled, curious about your response.

You weren’t too picky about your choice of attire. You had always bought what seemed to be fitting within your price range. There were occasional times where Vanitas has teasingly offered to buy you more extravagant dresses but you had always declined his offer, making it nearly impossible to see if his words were true or not. You tilted your head to the side, letting out a small hum.

“I guess I would say that I am interested in clothing that give me enough movement but. . . polished? I do prefer my skirts to be on the longer side because I think it makes my silhouette look good? I don’t tailor my clothes very often but sometimes Master takes me shopping,” You answered, giving an awkward smile, “I wouldn’t want to give Master a bad image if I were to dress poorly. . . but I guess it wouldn’t matter considering how much trouble our party digs up.”

The white-haired man nodded his head, agreeing wholeheartedly with your last statement, causing Vanitas to call out his name in shock and slight annoyance. He only ignored his words, turning his head towards you as he smiled. “You seem pretty comfortable in fighting in heels,” Noé stares down at your heeled boots, his eyes sparkling in excitement, “Is there a reason why you wear them in the first place?”

You laughed, waving your hand as you nervously tucked your feet underneath the chair, “Well. . . I thought they looked nice? There isn’t much of a reason why I wear them. It seems like good practice for balancing.” You shyly pressed the back of your hand against your cheeks, the color of your skin becoming slightly flushed, “Sometimes. . . I think the clicking sounds nice too.”

“Oh!” Noé pressed his fist into his hand in a moment of eureka, “I should try wearing heels to improve my balance as well.”

“You will most certainly not!” Vanitas argued.

#memoryofthelostfanfic #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte x reader

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yuusa · 3 years ago

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⟡ 𝐕𝐈 | 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

You snapped your head to the sudden scent of an unknown woman. Her gloved hands pushed through the door, revealing her strangely dressed attire as she gave a mischievous smile. She wore a formal yet tailored suit, her curves fitting the fabric in the tightest of ways. With her appearance came her flamboyant personality, one that filled the air with great noise as her metallic assistant threw a crowd of roses into the air. She raised her hand, bringing everyone’s attention to her.

“I heard all, gentleman!” She announced, waving to Noé with a bright smile. You turned to Vanitas, silently asking if he had seen this woman before but he only returned to you with the same expression. As you took several glances back at her, you felt as if you were supposed to recognize her, but you couldn’t do so. There was something deep inside of your memories that kept you from remembering events during the old war. You frowned at your thoughts as you raised your hand to press at your forehead, a sigh coming out from your breaths.

“Domi!” Noé called out, looking at her with shocked eyes as he ran up to her. His face was sparkling in excitement and glee, the sudden introduction of the women bringing him joy as he found himself no longer feeling alone in the strange world of Paris. The woman smiled, explaining that she was the white-haired man’s fiancée, something that you couldn’t believe.

“Fi. . .”

“An. . .”

“Cée?” Vanitas ended, staring at the unknown woman with a surprised look. To think that an airheaded man such as Noé himself could even have a significant other flew past his mind. You stood close to Vanitas’ side, your eyes slightly narrowed at her appearance. She smelled odd, you thought. It was like the fresh scent of roses on a bright morning, it gave you a rather hopeful feeling that bloomed.

Noé noticed the strange stares that were directed towards him and he quickly cleared his throat, explaining that the woman was not his fiancée, but rather a close friend of his that he grew up with. The crowd sighed in relief, somehow all thinking about different scenarios. You let out a small hum of amusement. The black-haired woman slapped his shoulder bashfully, chuckling at his response, “Come, come, Noé! It’s no fun if you just give it away like that!”

You turned to stare at the floor, the carpet covered in dozens of roses. You carefully knelt, picking one up into your hands. You examined the deep, crimson colors, finding it rather peculiar. As you fingered through the petals, Vanitas took several glances back at you. He let out a hum, finding the circumstances rather interesting, “Dominique De Sade. . . then she’s the daughter of Count De Sade, a lord of the other world?”

“That’s right.”

“To think you had friends in the aristocracy. . . Frankly, I’m astounded. I’ve heard from (Y/n) that even with her rank, she didn’t remember the names of the aristocrats.” He added. Noé snapped his head towards you, a look of astonishment running through his face.

“What is this about Mademoiselle (Y/n)?”

Vanitas scratched the back of his neck, releasing a sigh from underneath his lips, “I suppose it would be strange if you knew about it.” He pressed his thumb against the bottom of his chin, smiling at Noé with a curious expression, “Have you ever heard of the term, ‘Cleaner?’”

Noé swallowed a thick lump that had formed at the base of his throat, “No. I haven’t.” You nervously pinched the side of your arm with your prosthetic, squeezing at your skin as your expression stiffened.

“A ‘Cleaner’ refers to someone who cleans up after the war,” Orlok explained, bringing his hands underneath his chin as he stared at Noé. “They’re in charge of keeping the war from being too drawn out. You’d only send Cleaners out on duty if there were a large number of people involved on the battlefront.”

Noé gave the man a small, hopeful smile, finding the job to be rather interesting. He assumed that they were similar to a kind of servant, someone who would collect and bury the bodies as a way to give a memorial to those lost. In a way, it seemed rather fitting for someone as kind and gentle as you. “I never knew that they had someone who cleaned up after the war. Mademoiselle (Y/n) must have had a great impact.”

Vanitas clicked his tongue, slamming his fist against the armrest of his chair, causing the white-haired man to flinch. Noé nervously asked about his actions, his purple eyes looking back at him in concern and confusion. You only stared at the ground, your hand shaking as you listened to the conversation.

“You fool,” Vanitas spat, “A Cleaner isn’t there to wash up the battlefield. They aren’t some kind of maid you would deploy during a war. They’re meant to end the fight.”

His eyes fluttered shut, his lips pressed into a frown, “This means that they will massacre both sides until nothing is left, this is what the vampires call ‘victory.’ There were fourteen battles that ended with a Cleaner coming out as the only survivor. It’s a fairly new job that was introduced during the war, but it made one hell of a difference in terms of power. I promise you, if you were to see one deployed in combat, you’re better off praying to God to enter Heaven.”

“But. . . Mademoiselle (Y/n) is so kind! There’s no way she could have been a Cleaner.” Noé argued, raising both of his hands. “I’m sure you are getting the wrong person. I believe that she didn’t have any involvement in the war.”

Before Vanitas could give him another lecture, Orlok cleared his throat, interrupting him. You pressed your lips together as you tilted your head towards him, your eyes sharing a look of distress and discomfort. Orlok brought his hand down to his table, waving Vanitas off as the man clicked his tongue.

“That’s correct, Noé. (Y/n) is not a Cleaner, that man was only toying with you for the sake of a reaction. The only Cleaner that had ever existed went missing thousands of years ago. They have long dissolved alongside the old war.”

Noé breathed out a sigh of relief as his smile returned. “I’m glad to hear such a piece of news. I knew that Mademoiselle (Y/n) would never work as a Cleaner. Although I suppose we should return to the topic at hand. My teacher is her grandfather so Domi and I played together often.” You flinched slightly at the expression Vanitas made. His eyes had grown in size as if he was upset to hear such words from the white-haired vampire. You tilted your head down, moving the tips of your foot to dig into the carpet.

“Count Orlok, I do apologize for barging in abruptly like this,” Dominique apologized, scratching the back of her neck as she gave a smile to the older man. Although, you could sense that underneath her voice held no signs of regret or remorse for her actions.

“No matter. The House of De Sade was rude long before your generation.”

“Ah, my burning ears! In that case. . . one more thing, while I’m being rude,” She joked, her figure walking closer towards Noé as she immediately wrapped something around his neck. Your face curled up in shock as Dominique pulled on a thin chain, revealing a collar. “Let me borrow Noé if you would.”

As quickly as she came, she tugged on the chain, dragging Noé behind her as she strutted through the long hallways of Galerie Valentine. He struggled against her grasp but ultimately allowed her to drag him around. You frowned as the door slowly slammed shut, leaving the crowd in silence. Vanitas brought his hand up to his hair, pulling it back slightly as he groaned to himself, feeling exhausted by the strange antics of Noé. One moment he was trying to have a conversation regarding the location and identity of Charlatan, the next his partner Noé was being dragged off by someone from The House of De Sade. Perhaps he should be glad that at least you had the sensibility to keep to his side. He waved his hand in front of you, gathering your attention.

“(Y/n). Let’s follow them,” He said, turning his head towards you as his frown deepened. You began to wonder if there was something underneath his expression that you couldn’t read. He had been slightly joyous earlier in the day but now it seemed as if his mood had been spoiled. Was there something bothering him? Something about the Archiviste family? You weren't too sure.

Your eyes drifted away from him as you lowered your position, giving him a respectful bow. “Comme vous voudrez, Monsieur. Is there a reason you would like me to tail them?”

He let out a huff, already feeling annoyed by the current situation. He could feel something off about the woman from The House of De Sade. What exactly would an aristocrat like her be doing in Paris? What sort of business did she have with Noé? While he understands little about their friendship, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of discomfort he felt around her. “I feel as if that woman is planning something. Whatever it is, we need to get to the bottom of it.”

“I see. . .” You replied, your gaze focused on the door as you placed your hands behind your back. You doubted that someone from The House of De Sade would simply roam the streets of regular Paris, especially in such early lights. Perhaps it was a mere educated guess, you proposed. You gave Vanitas an innocent smile, your eyes fluttering shut. “I presume they are headed to the border.”

“Shall we head out?” You added.

“Noé!” Vanitas shouted, catching his attention as the world around him grew dark. His smirk was plastered across his face as a look of excitement stained the man’s vision.

Noé brought his head towards your direction, his eyes widening as he saw Vanitas call for his name from within your arms. You were holding Vanitas with your prosthetic arm, your other hand squeezing onto his hand as you both jumped through the empty darkness. His heart was beginning to pound wildly at the sight. Why would Vanitas suddenly follow him into the other world? Noé was taken aback as you and Vanitas landed safely onto the ground. Your heels clicked against the ground as you carefully lowered his figure, allowing him to drop to his feet.

You turned your head, scanning your surroundings. You sucked in a deep breath, surprised to see that you had successfully made it through before the door closed. This was your first time in Altus, a world that was parallel to the one you knew. Although it acted and felt very similar to the city of Paris, the population mainly consisted of vampires who were created during The Babel Incident, an event that shifted the world’s formula. However, with its creation came the destruction of the Earth, leading to the old war. You brushed your hair through your (h/c) locks, adjusting your snow-white clothing as you stirred your hood downwards. To even reach Altus, you were instructed to pass through using “Borders,” an entrance created after the case of Babel. You were instructed by Vanitas to keep close to him as any human who entered Altus would be lost while crossing dimensions.

Dominique came close to your side, her lips curving into a mischievous smile as she brought her hand close to you. You remained focused on the situation, your left hand tightening its grip around your coffin’s band. Her orbs glimmered slightly at your defensive nature, noticing the thick locks that surrounded the container. She raised your prosthetic hand to her lips, giving it a soft kiss as she peered up to see your reaction.

“What is a lovely lady like you doing here?” She asked, her face shifting to a provocative look, “It looks like you came here with that man Vanitas, are you here on business?”

You slowly brought your hand away from her, a blank look coating your face. “Yes. I am here working under Master Vanitas, the owner of The Book of Vanitas. We are here to inspect and save curse bearers. If you have any information on them, we would gladly take them.”

She let out a hum, placing her hand underneath her chin as she tilted her head to the side. You seemed oddly familiar to someone she had previously seen in the past, but your personality was completely different from how she remembered. While there were times her older sister talked about a woman with (h/c) hair, it seemed too much of a coincidence to assume. Were you even the same person? She questioned herself, unsure of what to add to the conversation.

“Have you heard of the new guest that arrived?” Her sister cooed, fanning out her face as she stared out from the balcony. The moon had thin, faint lines surrounding the skies, giving it a ‘cracked’ appearance. The woman let out a soft hum, listening to the sounds of the busy town rumbling with a parade of vampires, their voices and shouting echoing throughout the night sky. She brought her hand out to the balcony, leaning against it as Dominique came close to her side.

“What are you talking about?” She replied, letting out a small huff as she watched her sister’s smile widen. Her eyes curled up into one of interest, her lips tickled by the feeling of her cigarette. She let out a laugh, continuously fanning herself.

“The one with (h/c) hair. Lord Ruthven said that because of her recklessness, they had to create a new job for her.” She started, tapping away at her cigar to rid itself of its burnt edges, “She’s instructed to eliminate anyone who’s involved with the war. I heard they sent her out to the South recently, the war has been taking much longer than the Senate expected so they wanted to finish it quickly.”

“The Senate thought it would be a waste if they didn’t use her,” She inhaled a large puff of smoke, “It would be too much of a risk if they let her out of Altus to meet with other humans. Perhaps they’re worried she might turn against them. Of course, they wouldn’t want such raw power slipping through their hands. Right now she’s accompanying Lord Ruthven until her next post is sent out. For now, she’s just on a leash while they figure out what they want to do with her.”

Dominique pressed her lips together in a thin line, thinking to herself, “No. . . Not that I remember.” This was her first time hearing such news. Although her family had close connections to the Senate and news about the war, she never heard of someone with that amount of power. She was beginning to wonder if there would be an end to the war. “If she working as a bourreau then?”

Her sister let out a peal of laughter, her legs kicking themselves up as she coughed up strings of smoke. Dominique waved her hand around, blowing away the smell of ash as her face crinkled in disgust. “Of course not!” She chuckled, “Well, I’m not entirely sure of what will happen with her, but she’s being called a Cleaner by the Senate. I’m sure Lord Ruthven would have some sort of plan for her in the future. He said something along the lines of. . .”

She hummed, “‘. . . If there comes an end to the war, she’ll be the last survivor on the field.’”

“Have I seen you before? You seem familiar.” Dominique gazed at you with a blank appearance.

You blinked in response before resting your prosthetic hand against your chest, giving her a polite bow. Your (h/c) hair slipped into your vision slightly as you closed your eyes, a small, gentle smile curving on your lips. “My name is (Y/n), I work as Master Vanitas’ assistant and guardian. I’m currently on a journey to search for curse bearers in the world of Atlus alongside him. I originally came from the Northside and moved to Paris after being released from my comatose state.”

“A-Ah, I didn’t know about that! I’m glad to be meeting you then!” Dominique smiled, scratching the end of her cheek awkwardly. Due to your (h/c) hair, she had almost thought you were the same Cleaner as her memories. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions, surely there was a multitude of people with (h/c) hair and you were one of many. She let out a laugh as you turned away from her. As Dominique stared at your figure, she noticed small hints of cerise pooling at the bottom, the color reflecting the brilliant lights of the chandelier.

You tilted your head slightly to the side as you gave her a small smile. She found her blood running cold as she swallowed a thick lump that had formed at the base of her throat. There was something eerie about your actions. Perhaps it was the soft creaks that came from your arm, or it was the look in your eyes that were devoid of emotion. It was different from the looks that Noé gives her, and it was much more. . . frigid.

You leaned your back against the carriage, tilting your head towards the cobweb skies. You were waiting for Dominique to finish changing for the ball, an event that may bring you closer to your goal of finding curse bearers. You wrapped your hand around your prosthetic arm, squeezing the ebony material as you found yourself become tired. You felt your heart thump against your chest, your hands growing clammy as you pressed it against the cold metal.

You squeezed your eyes shut, struggling to remember Dominique’s appearance. You swore that you knew her but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Your head was beginning to ache as you forced yourself to uncover your memories, your nails breaking into the skin of your palm as you bit your lip in frustration. It shouldn’t be this hard but you couldn’t remember. You couldn’t remember a damned thing about yourself aside from the early start. You had vivid memories of the snow, the scent of fire and wood lingering at the back of your nose. You could remember the days of warmth, the feeling of his hand squeezing yours as his gentle lips gave you an innocent kiss, his voice calling out to you like the free-flowing wind.

‘Live. . . with my memory,’ he repeated. It rang in your ear as the sounds of laughter erupted from behind your figure. You stared at his limp body, your blood running cold at the sight. Small beads of snow rested against his cheek, the red tint of his knuckles wilting away as you shivered. You felt your cold tears rise in temperature. The color of your face being drained as you stared at the claret snow.

You flinched as you felt Vanitas place his gloved hands against your cheek, his blue eyes staring deep into yours as he leaned towards you. His second hand drove themselves towards the carriage, encaging you in his arms as you tilted your head to the side, your (e/c) orbs looking back at him with slight confusion and curiosity. As you felt his breath tickle the front of your lips, you could smell the fresh scent of blood whistling in the air. It smelled familiar, like the scent of roses. You licked the bottom of your lips instinctively, it wasn’t as sweet as the man in front of you, but it had an alluring scent to it.

“Is there something wrong Master?” You asked, looking at him unfazed. You were beginning to wondering if he needed something from you. He had been so quiet during your trip which began to worry you on the inside. You don’t remember him being this awfully quiet. Your hand instinctively reached out for your coffin, your fingers stretching out to its locks but he quickly stopped you with his hand.

“No. I was simply curious about what you were thinking about.” He replied, pulling his hand away from you as you frowned. “You’ve been staring off into space since we got here.”

“Is that so?” You turned your head away from him, “Perhaps I am only lamenting over something in the past.”

“What of it?”

You clasped your hand into a tight fist, your fingers trembling slightly as you felt the cold wind brush against your (e/c) hair. “There is something deep inside of me that I cannot explain. It is this burning feeling that never fades away. I had first assumed it was some kind of illness, but no amount of medicine could cure me.”

“I have been attempting to remember the war, the same one that you and many others talked about, but I don’t have any recollection of it. I was sure that with a war that important, I would be able to remember or at the very least, been a part of it. Although, I am beginning to fear that part of my memory is missing after. . .” You sat on the ground, unmoving as you watched your single tear drip down your (s/c) cheeks, falling and shattering upon the impact of his skin. “. . . reaching an unconscious state.”

You pressed your hand against the side of your head, your face curling up in worry, “There seems to be something that is keeping me from seeing them. I had originally thought that perhaps I wasn’t looking hard enough, but it doesn’t seem like I could recall anything. While my previous memories are still rather vivid, I can’t remember anything in between the day we met and the time I fell ill.”

Vanitas hummed, unsure of what to say to you. He watched as you continued to search through your memories, attempting once more to look for something significant. While he had heard about vampires not being able to recall certain events, such as Amelia Ruth, he had never encountered someone who described their memories as being “blocked.” However, he found the issue rather. . . dull compared to what he felt like doing at the moment. He silently raised his hand, gripping at your coat as he unclipped the front, letting it drop to the floor as your breath hitched.

There was a brief moment of silence between the two of you before he carefully raised his gloved hands towards you, lifting your strand of your (h/c) hair. He brought it up to his lips, kissing it softly before suddenly pulling you towards him. You could feel the warmth of his skin from the outside of his clothes, his breath stimulating you as you let out a gasp of air. You squeezed at the side of his arm as he leaned forward, giving the tip of your ear a gentle kiss. His hand raised themselves to the side of your leg, hiking your clothes upwards. Despite the barrier created by his gloves, you could feel a sense of warmth from them. You gravitated towards his touch, yearning for more of that tender feeling.

“Do you want me to help you forget about it?”

#memoryofthelostfanfic #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas

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