𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄

𝐈 | 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

[𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝟏] - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬

─────

❝𝑨𝒏 𝑼𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆❞

· ✦────────✧◦ ☾ ◦✧────────✦ ·

"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."