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saltymongoose · 2 years

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hey i know most if not all of these have the player be human but i was wondering about maybe having the player as something close to human but not? yeah i’m going with it how would they (Hank, Deimos, Sanford, 2B) react to a vampire Player (specifically one doesn’t die to sunlight in Nevada only because it’s not technically their sun) who maybe might or might not have a pleasant (as in it feels almost as good as sex kinda pleasant if that’s ok) bite to them when they drink blood from the grunts?

Ahhh I love this so so much, you have no idea! :D I like anything having to do with vampires, and this is the perfect time to be doing spooky requests, so thank you for sending this to me! We’re going with a bit of VTM/WoD and (mainly) Hellsing logic for vampires here, just in case anyone is curious, but you don’t need any experience with either of them to read this. [Also, given the more suggestive nature of the biting that you asked for, I've relegated that to a shorter second part for safety. ;)]

[WORLD WITHOUT LOGOS] - How They React to a Vampire!Player ft. The Main 4

(Warnings: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior, Violence, Brief Mentions of Blood and Gore, Mentions of Biting, Reader is a bit of a sadist.)

It had been very easy for you to hide your vampirism from the humans back in your world. Sure, technology and medicine had come a long way over time, but there were always ways to avoid detection. Being mysteriously vague about your person and what you do outside of streaming, taking jobs that require work at night and/or inside, and keeping just enough distance from humans to stop from being found out or suspected. Playing with the minds of those you drained to ensure they wouldn’t be able to get you caught. (It took some practice, but you had more than a few decades to perfect it.)

Besides, no rational human would ever believe that vampires were actually real (something your kind used quite often for your benefit).

However, keeping it from your vessels in Nevada was far more difficult - impossible, even, given your circumstances. The first time you met them, you were required to touch Sanford because he helpfully picked you up to help bring you back. He expected you to be hot to the touch; it made sense that you’d radiate immense heat, considering the beacon of warmth you appeared to be with the cozy aura you had. However, he was shocked when instead of this he was met with your freezing skin. You were worryingly cold, but the lack of any viewable cuts or bruises showed that it wasn’t from any large injury.

You noticed his worry, and at the mounting discussion of what could possibly be wrong with you, you saw fit to just reveal it right away. It was unprecedented, but secrecy wouldn’t work here, especially not when you had to feed once a day (and with how much they seemed to care, they probably wouldn’t let any unexplained disappearance go).

Given the many differences between regular humans and grunts, and how open your vessels already were to your strange appearance, they accepted the news of your undeath rather easily. You being a literal supernatural creature wasn’t met with any recoil (as to them you kind of already were).

It wasn’t something you expected, but you welcomed it nonetheless. However, some of the more unique features of your vampirism made them very curious, and their fascination with a part of you that you kept hidden from most in your world, one that was so integral to who you were as a person, only brought you closer to them.

- [HANK J. WIMBLETON] -

Hank had little to no interest in the supernatural before you met, and as such, he never bothered to learn the intricacies behind folklore or media regarding vampires. Nevada has enough weirdness already without that. This gap in knowledge bothered him for the first time when you finally revealed what you were, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly to ask you. Fortunately enough, you were more than happy to demonstrate what you could.

You know that one of the things Hank understands best is destruction, and considering that you aren’t restricted by the rules that your kind has to adhere to any longer, there’s no need to keep yourself and your abilities hidden. As such, you had no issue with fighting at Hank’s side instead of merely controlling him. It honestly scared him at first, seeing you come up close to the battlefield when he had already engaged the enemies in front of you. However, you had never steered him wrong before, and he loved you, so he trusted you wholeheartedly. He knew from the confident look in your eyes that whatever you planned wouldn’t end badly.

He immediately noticed the dark, inky blotches beginning to form on your shoulders over your clothes, shadows pulling from your surroundings as the unstable mass grew larger. It was disturbing, especially when eyes started to open within its depths, only for it to spill over the rest of your torso, obscuring your body in a flowing mess of crimson irises and indescribable darkness, lit only by the pulsing glow of souls trapped within. (It was at this moment that he realized how little he actually knew of your true nature.)

“Alright, big guy,“ you said, flashing him a too-wide grin, sharp teeth glinting in the light. "Let’s see how my powers match up against grunts, shall we?”

It had admittedly been a very long time since you were able to show off any of your more flashy abilities, and you might go a bit (very) overboard when you have the opportunity to join the fight. Summoning some familiars who you’ve consumed in the past, physically changing the form of your own body in seconds, even using your own immense strength and speed to tear your poor enemies apart whenever one got too close for your liking. It was more energy than you’d used in centuries, and you were reveling in it. And so was Hank.

He knew there had to be a reason why your strategies were so sound, and why every battle you got involved in went their way, and it was exemplified by your stunning proficiency in battle. You had several years to perfect your techniques, and seeing them awed him more than anything else.

Hank can only watch adoringly as you spear, slice, and tear your enemies to pieces, internally gushing when you shoot him a wink or a self-satisfied grin after another gory kill. You destroy your enemies in a way that’s horrifying and brutal, but Hank thinks you never look more beautiful than when you’re covered in the viscera and gore of your enemies, mouth stained with blood and a cruel look of victory on your face. Those poor grunts never stood a chance - and neither did his heart if the way it palpitated almost worryingly at the mesmerizing sight of you was any sign. His hands shake as he reaches up to place them on his cheeks, lost in openly fawning over you until he is reminded that he can also assist you in taking them out.

This admiration didn’t stop the flare of jealousy that would happen when he saw you use your teeth on one of them though. Seeing you hurriedly drain someone of their life, watching them weakly cling to you as their putrid blood poured into your maw only reminded him that it was his blood you were supposed to be drinking. (He was, of course, ignoring the fact that you only did it to kill the other grunt, but death by your hands wasn’t the worst that could happen, especially when Doc could just bring him back.)

One of the only other specific things that Hank showed open interest in was “blood bonds”, as he heard you discussing them with 2BDamned. You were confused about him bringing it up, since it was such a random thing to pinpoint, but tried to explain it in the simplest way possible nonetheless.

It was certainly an interesting idea to him. The notion that each drink of your blood would bring you deeper into a bond with each other. Sure, there was the fact that it made the thrall have little to no free will unless you allowed it, would make him adore you beyond any logical reason, and make it excruciating to be apart from you for long periods of time, but who’s to say that wasn’t the case already? (Free will was overrated in his opinion if it meant he couldn’t be wholly yours.)

He even asked if you’d be willing to do this to him, which earned a dumbfounded look from you. (You know he liked you well enough, but no one ever just wants to be in a blood bond with your kind. Perhaps you underestimated just how much he enjoyed your presence. He thought that you’d have some idea of that, after all this time.)

“Hank- I already drink your blood a lot,” you said, gesturing to his neck. “If you have mine right now, you’ll just become a vampire along with the whole thrall thing. So no, I can’t do that.” You paused upon seeing his shoulders slump slightly in disappointment. If you weren’t so taken off guard, you’d have found it comical. “…Plus, you are already one of my prized vessels, and I like you too much to want to be apart from you for long anyway. We don’t really need a blood bond to be close if you think about it.” (Was it maybe a little manipulative to steer the conversation in that direction just to stop him from fretting about it? Yes. But it was for his own good, you don’t want him to be an unthinking immortal servant. Besides, everything you said was true anyway.)

He perked up at that and nodded quickly, seemingly appeased by your words, but still pulled his mask down to give you a little affectionate nip when he hugged your cold form (one that didn’t draw blood, thankfully). You welcomed it well enough, even if the irony brought an amused grin to your face.

(What, you think that just because he couldn’t drink your blood (right now), he wasn’t gonna put his teeth on you? Consider it payback for all those marks you give him. Besides, grunts have their own behaviors regarding biting, and even if he didn’t tell you that this was a claim, what matters is that the others knew just how much you belonged to each other. You were right; it didn’t matter that you didn’t have a true blood bond with each other, not when his complete devotion and love for you was so great that it could surpass that.)

- [2BDAMNED] -

The only “Vampires” that 2BDamned knew a lot about were the grunts who made up the gang that shared the name. He’s aware they shared some traits with your kind, however, he was far more curious about the vampires from your world.

He's the first to ask you deeper questions regarding your abilities and what limitations vampires had, mainly so he can find ways to circumvent them. He knows you are incredibly resilient, and nearly immortal, but he isn’t willing to risk any injury to you. (What kind of vessel, no, partner would he be if he lets such a thing happen?)

This includes discussing everything about what could possibly harm you, which you were understandably hesitant to divulge (because it’s something your kind makes a huge point to not ever do). However, Doc doesn't push you to share information, unlike the mortals in your realm that knew of your affliction. It was comforting. (Really, he wants to know more everything about you, but he won’t do it in a way that pushes too far. He has too much respect for you to do that, and that’s not how you treat someone you love.)

His patience makes it almost easy to tell him about how a stake through the heart can actually kill you if used properly, how hunger could drive you mad, and how holy water burns through your skin if you’re in a state of weakness. It was simple to talk about how unfavorable contracts could be formed if you were in a weak enough state to be forced into such a thing.

The words are spoken quietly, ensuring that only he’d be able to hear them from where you were sitting, comfortably pressed to his side in his office. You’re still closed off about yourself, but you know that Doc won’t use your weaknesses against you. He swore it to you, after all; made a promise and even offered to bind himself into a contract with you over it, no matter the terms or the price. His devotion to you was blinding, you had to admit. It made you realize you felt something akin to actual affection and fondness for him (which you didn’t even know you could still do.)

One subject you can discuss openly without fear, on the other hand, is your anatomy. You’ve touched upon what your body was weak to, but he was still extremely curious about how you worked. Luckily for him, you’re willing to entertain all his questions and prodding.

He’s quick to take your tentative offer of a hands-on examination. You weren’t open to people in your world inspecting you, but you trust Doc despite your underlying reservations, so you allow him to manipulate your body to get a better look at your limbs and torso with little resistance. His touch is painfully soft when he moves you, gloved hands soothing over your fingers and arms as he turns them to check your non-existent pulse. Perhaps it was an excuse to feel the contrast of your icy skin with the odd, comfortable warmth you exuded. Or maybe he just liked touching you.

You raise a brow at the tender way he runs his hands over you, unused to being treated with such gentleness, but lean in when he gently grasps your jaw to look at your face. (Even after looking you over so many times, he never skipped it.) He hums when you helpfully open your mouth for him to inspect your sharp teeth. (And with your superhuman hearing it’s to miss the hitch in his breath when you open your maw a bit further, “accidentally” brushing one of your long, pointed fangs against his fingers. The corner of your mouth twitches when his heart rate picks up drastically. Mortals could be so amusing sometimes.)

Being in any physical contact with you was something 2BDamned needed getting used to, mainly because he had the tendency to hyper-fixate on everything about the feel of your skin and the way you looked. You look perfectly “human” and personable, but he knows from the dark look of your eyes and the unnatural coldness that something otherworldly and sinister lurks beneath your visage. To anyone else, it might be unsettling, but it only makes you more alluring to him. (He wants to spend every waking minute of his life around you if only so he can take in everything about your unique form.)

Verbal questions, however, are another matter. They leave Doc feeling unfulfilled more than anything, no matter how simple he thought the answer might’ve been. Case in point, that one time he asked you a simple question about your regenerative abilities. He wanted to know about how you were completely unscathed, clothes and all, even after the others had reported you got injured.

“Ah, that’s thanks to my regeneration. Getting shot doesn’t have much of an effect besides the obvious, so healing isn’t an issue. For clothes, I guess you can say my abilities extend to mending cloth as well as flesh.” That had been your answer, and while Doc was thankful for your clarification, it certainly didn’t help him figure out how you could do that to begin with.

2BDamned is very intelligent, which is a given; he wouldn’t have his current position if he wasn’t. However, the fact that he can’t fully understand your complex biology, as magically influenced as it is, bothers him to an unreasonable degree. He supposes it’s because he’s always operated from a position of power when it came to knowledge, but now he’s in one where he simply can’t get you completely. It makes him feel…inadequate, in a way. What help is he to you if he can’t employ his smarts? He’s not a combat-oriented vessel like the others, so how could he possibly assist you enough to be entirely useful (and irreplaceable) like he wants?

You knew about this worry he had the moment he first thought of it around you (mind reading was one of the many effects of drinking blood from someone), and sought to persuade him otherwise. The fact that he thought it was even possible to understand everything about how your kind worked was naive, but you could get it. For someone who knew so much about his own world, it would make sense that your natural ambiguity would be a point of irritation for him. However, that didn’t mean it was actually worth that level of annoyance.

“Hey, Doc.” you got his attention at the tail-end of one of your explanations, and he looked up from the tablet he was recording your answers on. “I should probably tell you: not every ability I have can be logically explained, and even I don’t know everything about them. So don’t worry if you can’t find an answer; I’ve lived like this for hundreds of years and I know what I can do. If anything, you’re helping by ironing out what I’m weak to and making sure we avoid it.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, too busy processing your words. They certainly put things into perspective for him; if you yourself didn’t know the reason why everything about you was that way, how could he? No, it made perfect sense, and he wasn’t so foolish as to believe he could understand you better than you yourself could.

Instead, this gave him a different objective to focus on. He knew that he had to use any option necessary to prove himself worthy of your attention, even if it didn’t rely on figuring out how you worked. A large part of him yearned to be useful to you in every way possible, and he swore to himself that he would. As his Player (and future romantic partner), you deserve nothing less.

- [SANFORD] -

Sanford is concerned about you more than anything. He knows that the sun can’t hurt you here, but there might be other things that can, and as a result, he’s always on the lookout for anything regarding silver (or enemies that might use it) so he can warn you. His main concern has always been your safety and well-being, and that’s not going to change just because you’re a vampire. Plus, it’s how he shows his love.

He also worries about your mental health as well. He can’t begin to imagine the toll that immortality could have on your psyche, so he lets you know very early on that if you need somebody to vent to, he’s there. You’re comforted by this, even though you don’t exactly come to him for this specific purpose. (You were hesitant to talk about anything personal, centuries worth of careful secrecy had that effect on you. Sanford makes it hard to keep this up, though.)

When you do have your discussions, they’re at the times when you’re alone together, and when you’re feeling particularly vulnerable. Sanford will always remember the first time you opened up to him about yourself, even if it was small. He had woken up at dawn, deciding to do a quick patrol around the perimeter to check for any encroaching enemies (especially AAHW), only to open the door and see you sitting on the steps outside. You were looking upward, watching Nevada’s sky begin to color its usual crimson as the broken sun rose. You had a wistful expression on your face, one that conveyed a wordless longing and deep appreciation. He shifted from behind you, weighing whether or not he should interrupt your peaceful isolation before you spoke to him.

“I once knew a vampire who became so transfixed by the beauty of the sunrise that they stood in its rays just to see it for longer, only to turn to stone and crumble to dust.” It was said as a near whisper, and Sanford was struck by how open and vulnerable you sounded. You didn’t turn your head to see him, keeping your gaze on the changing shades of red and pink. “It has been a long time since I’ve seen it myself.”

You didn’t move when he stepped closer, something he took as an invitation to sit down beside you, moving his gun to his lap when he did. He didn’t know what to say, afraid of speaking out of line and making you close in on yourself. He settled for a simple question (small talk, really): “What do you think of it?”

“…It is different from how I remember mine being. But I suppose I can understand where my kindred was coming from,” you responded. The words of how much you missed seeing the sun went unspoken, yet Sanford understood the sentiment all the same. How hard it must’ve been, to go so long without seeing the light of day. “It is beautiful, and the warmth is something to be missed.” You kept your eyes trained on the red sky for a moment longer before turning to face him. He had already been staring at you, and shyly averted his gaze, his visual-cross evading your sight before returning (even if he was a tad embarrassed at the blush he could feel heating his face, you still deserved his full attention). He found that your crimson eyes were more radiant than Nevada’s scarlet heavens could ever be. You smiled at him softly. “But the company makes it better.” (He hoped you couldn’t hear how his heart stuttered at your words. You could.)

Most of your discussions about how you actually are go similarly. He lets you instigate them, wanting you to be in full control of your vulnerability so you feel safe letting him in on such things. Surprisingly, it’s something you actually engage in, even if you’re never that direct about your feelings. It also becomes customary to have these in talks in the morning when you watch the sunrise together. (Truthfully, the first time it happened had been a fluke: it was Deimos’ turn to take first watch that day, and half an hour after Sanford had awoken. He never thought he’d have a reason to thank his finicky biological clock, but he’d never been happier than when he was spending time with you, alone and uninterrupted by the others in your group.)

Sanford is also the main one out of the four who asks about your history. It first came from wanting to understand you more, as a person’s background could tell a lot about them and their way of thinking. While you don’t see much of an appeal in discussing clan politics, it does let you unload on all sorts of gossip and weird things you’ve seen and done. (Deimos also joins you occasionally for these talks, mainly because hearing you talk about the outlandish acts you’ve witnessed with such a straight face is hilarious to him.)

(“Wait, so the Camarilla is your main governing organization, right?” Sanford asked, and you nodded with a noise of confirmation. “So why aren’t you a part of them, then? You’re smart enough to be, in my opinion.” (It was with this that Deimos added on a “And powerful enough”, to which Sanford nodded in agreement.)

“Hah, flattery will get you everywhere, you know,” you responded with a sly grin (one that made pink dust his cheeks, and had Deimos aim a pointed glare at him, even if he couldn’t hide his own reaction to your expression). “But no, not at all. The Camarilla doesn't like me because I’m old.” Deimos snorted loudly and Sanford furrowed his brow (because they supposedly knew you were immortal, what the hell-), looking so innocently confused you couldn’t help but laugh.

“In Vamp society, people of 150 years are considered Elders - and there are very few of them. I am over 700 and older than their entire organization. I don’t like toddlers telling me what to do, and they’re threatened by the fact that I’m so powerful that nobody’s managed to kill me yet. I think they’re annoying and they don’t trust me.” (‘Oh, that makes sense,’ he thought. ‘But how powerful are you then, anyway?’)

Honestly, Sanford finds great enjoyment in listening to you discuss what you’ve done for the past centuries, but even better, you had also told him that he had been the first to ask about your past and get an actual answer from you (which made him feel weirdly giddy). He was the first person you opened up to in this way, and he took it as both a privilege and a sign that you two were closer, perhaps even more than the others were with you. It was him who’d managed to break your carefully-crafted shell, after all.

He’s extremely curious about your abilities too, but he doesn’t ask very much about them compared to your past, preferring to just observe when you’re willing to show them off. He thinks it would be overstepping; he loves finding out more about you, but he doesn’t want to get too greedy with it. (You might even be uncomfortable with that, and the last thing Sanford wants is for you to feel that way around him.)

This doesn’t stop him from openly staring when you use them, however, attention completely focused on you when your form shifts, warping into something objectively horrifying, yet captivating at the same time. He knows that he should probably feel terrified by the sadistic look on your face and the almost feral glint in your eyes, and the oppressive aura you have when you unleash your true power, but he isn’t. How could he be, when it was you who he saw creating such carnage? You, whom he loved and revered above all else, who had worked to protect him and keep him from harm? If anything, your power was a testament to how worthy you were of being their Player. He couldn’t help but feel safe around you, knowing that the overwhelming might you had would only be used to harm your mutual enemies.

Now, what remained was the need to grow more skilled himself to show you that he was deserving to be at your side (where he belonged). So you’d accept him and his limitless affection, so you’d never part, for the rest of your eternal life and his finite one.

- [DEIMOS] -

Deimos handles your vampirism a lot more casually than you’d first expect. He asks a bunch of questions, of course, but they’re not really related to specific things like how your clan works, or the history of vampiric society and how it runs. (Something you’re grateful for at this point; it’s not like it was very easy to present common things that had centuries of complex history behind them time and time again.)

Instead, he asks about pop culture and how accurate it is, and he’s immensely surprised by what actually is true. This includes your weird inability to cross large bodies of water without help and how garlic can actually hurt weaker vampires, for instance. They’re all things you’ve seen in the media again and again, and it would be tiresome to discuss them if it were with anyone else. However, there’s just something about the childish excitement Deimos has about you that endears you to it enough to make the discussions fun.

He also jokes about it a lot too, making a show of welcoming you into a room like you need verbal permission to enter it, and asking whether they should get you a coffin to sleep in. He even puts on a gaudy Romanian accent sometimes when imitating a stereotypical vampire, and refers to you as “Count.” (Which makes you raise a brow. You knew Dracula.) You try to act above it, stoic even if you play along a little sometimes (like when you outright refuse to enter the room until he invites you). This just makes the feeling of victory all the sweeter for him when he manages to break you, making you crack a genuine smile and laugh.

You return the favor though, teasing him back whenever he says something flirty to you by innocently asking him if he’s always been into older people or if it’s just you. He’s always taken aback by it, which makes it amusing enough. Sometimes you also flirt back, in your own way. (You shot him a charming smile, leaning in close enough to earn a blush from him. “Careful, Deimos; if you tempt me enough, I might turn you just so I can hear that voice of yours forever.” You meant it as a bit of a tease since he had taken to saying things right in your ear because he knew he could get a reaction out of you that way. You failed to recognize that he doesn’t see spending eternity with you as a vampire to be anything close to a bad thing.)

It becomes a frequent thing for you to watch horror movies together too, as well as any film that has supernatural elements. Every so often, Deimos will lean a bit closer to whisper a question about whatever creature is on screen, to which you’ll give an answer. (Turns out werewolves were real in your world, and they did actually have a feud with vampires if the grimace on your face when speaking about them said anything.)

(Soon enough, you might find yourself near to being completely in his lap, since while he does move closer, he won’t actually go back to where he’s sitting. (Prolonged contact with you was too tempting for him to do so.) It’s not like you mind though; his body heat is very cozy, and you savor the new experience of having him so close.)

Like Hank, Deimos is also really excitable about your abilities, except he’s far more direct with it. He’ll openly cheer and praise you when you tear people apart, becoming more animated as you get more and more over the top with your kills. (You also might show off a bit, not gonna lie. It’s nice to have someone praise you instead of screaming or going still from pure fear; it makes your cold, undead heart feel warm for once.)

He also will ask you to try doing specific things with them, just to see if you’re able to. You humor him most of the time; it’s not like there’s any harm in taking down enemies in a fashion he recommends (or shouts out in the middle of the fight, like it’s some kind of special move), and the way his face looks when you decide to show him how you can walk up walls if you want is honestly really funny.

In fact, since you willingly let him see nearly all your “magic” up close, he’s the first to see your more complex shape-shifting too (mainly because you suddenly remember that you can do it, and you know he’d like to see it). Anything from transforming yourself into a swarm of bats (at his request - you just watched another film about Dracula), or a writhing mass of centipedes and other bugs (absolutely disgusting, but fascinating) to even making yourself into a single animal, like a dog. Sometimes you even disappear into his shadow, hiding in plain sight.

He occasionally uses this to sneak you somewhere more private so you can hang out without the others. (They try to do the same, so it’s not like there’s anything wrong with having you all to himself for a while.) You’re fully aware of why he does it, but you go along with it anyway. It’s new to have someone like you so much they don’t want to share you with anyone else, or at least, new to people you didn’t have a blood bond with.

While it was a relatively small effect, something you also showed him was how you could make all of your teeth sharp - exactly like his. (For a moment, when he peered into your mouth to see the sharp points, he wondered whether any kids you might have would inherit his grin or yours. He quickly snapped himself out of this intrusive thought the moment he became aware of it - it’s not like he knew if such a thing was even possible, and he didn’t even think he wanted children, to begin with. But it didn’t stop the red from suddenly painting his face, earning a look of interest from you. You blinked, lips curving in an amused grin. Oh, that’s right. He didn’t know you could read minds yet.)

Although, sometimes you regret telling him about your more nonlethal abilities, because he frequently asks you if you'll try them on him. It honestly makes you wonder if grunts just have the lowest levels of self preservation possible, because no one concerned about their own safety would just ask a vampire to control their mind or envelop them in the unstable mass of souls they had “just to see what it it’s like” (his actual words). Then again, Deimos was actually the first to ask about your rather strict diet, and the first to openly offer himself to you if you wanted to feed on him, so perhaps there was some merit to this theory.

However, he never gets annoyed with you for any rejections over his ideas, which (given how egotistical vampires are) is a breath of fresh air. Plus, keeping you happy was always his main priority anyway. You never feel any pressure to do anything from him, which makes you more at ease. (It's odd; a few months ago, you never imagined yourself being so comfortable with anyone like this - especially not a mortal.)

Deimos is honestly overjoyed at how you willingly show him nearly everything you can do. Being the first to know so much about your abilities (even over Hank) is a huge deal for him, and with how much he mentions it (brags), it's clear just how much he values it. It makes him feel a lot closer to you; the time spent with you going over Nevada's movies and shows combined with the late-night talks about your abilities, the inside jokes you develop, and how close you get when you let him touch you as you change forms, allowing his clawed hands to touch nothing yet everything within the mass of tortured souls you hold. You've let him really see you, more-so than anyone else, at least. Which is exactly what he wants.

He longs to know every side of you, from the human appearance you wear to the horrid beasts you contain. And maybe, with enough time bonding with each other, he'll get the thing he wants most of all: for you to want him too.

He already knows you've got part of his soul, with those drinks you took of his blood. Now all that remained was to become yours in every other way possible.

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