#ikemen vampire faust
A Scholar’s Love
Fandom:Ikemen Vampire x Bloodborne crossover
Character:Johann Georg Faust
A/N:Happy birthday, Mama (@moonlit-stargazer )! Part two comes to you, which is a less happy story, hence it comes later, but it involves your beloved Bloodborne once more!
Words:+/- 1K
To my beloved,
Following your lead, I have arrived in the city of Yharnam. Desolate Yharnam, hopeful Yharnam! City of the miracle cure, city of curses. The carriage wouldn’t dare to bring me further than the gate, and so I had to lug myself and my suitcase through the streets, unfamiliar and abandoned until I finally found the address to which I was to stay. To see the city makes it hard to believe that there is such a thing as a miracle cure contained within, or perhaps that’s the entire purpose of its gloomy glamour.
“This is as far as I’m willing to go, lass,” the driver had abruptly announced as he brought his carriage to a halt. “If you wish to go into Yharnam, you go alone,” the man had told you firmly, throwing out the rest of your luggage when you didn’t change your mind and destination.
“Toe of a cow!” you had bitten after him, but only after that the carriage had long been out of sight, the dark shadows swallowing the cart up into the direction from which you had come and to which you would never return. You couldn’t blame the man for turning back straight. Not with the stories that circled around about the city itself, and the ominous gates in front of which you were laid to wait. Old and stately, you could tell it was once a proud entrance, covered in vines that had long since dried out, and now covered in dust and rust from disuse and neglect.
The host that you were staying with wasn’t much better either, with the wretched sound of the rust on the iron cutting through the otherwise quiet streets.
“Why would anyone come here freely,” they had mumbled after handing you your keys and shuffling off behind another gate of their own room, the sight of it eerie and uncomfortable, but above all; uninviting.
Like the host I have no answer either. What in this city has kept you for so long? Desolate, unbecoming place, with no warmth or kindness, other than the kind illusion of a cure, which I have found to inspire much worse in all who take the medicine. Was this what kept you? The desperation to find a cure and then a cause?
Heart racing in the back of your throat you clutched your hands to your chest, almost too afraid to peek across the corner in which you could hear the panting and the gasping of the aggressor that had sprung forth from the dark. Night had fallen, the time of which your host had warned you for, but you couldn’t help yourself, too eager to start your search.
A heart wrenching screech; almost like the wail of a man slain, or a woman, you couldn’t tell, but the iron stench of blood that infiltrated the air and the terrible sound of flesh rendered into pieces were a tell-tale sign of the slaughter that happened.
“You can come out,” a gruff voice sounded, and it dared you to finally face the reality of what had infested Yharnam and the reasons why the driver hadn’t dared to go beyond the gate. The giant scythe of your saviour glistening almost black of the tainted blood of whatever creature it was that had chased you down the many twirling streets of this desolate place.
The Healing Church, the hunters of the night, the Byrgenwerth Scholars, the school of Mensis. So many parties involved and playing their part in whatever curse has befallen this place. My first night I was saved, my second night I shall fight for myself. If I can, that is. I shall have to, if I want to find you. There is no one else that will help me, or can, for after the first night I’m certain of where I can find you, and after all I learnt this past night I’m sure there will be none who will favour helping me.
The skeletal look of the wasted man was a horrifying sight, if it wasn’t for the nightmare in which this city was indulged. The startle came from your own insensitivity at facing the corpse, not at how unnatural the sight was overall. A few nights in Yharnam and already you felt your heart hardened, desensitised against all the horrors the city had to offer.
“Fool,” you had mumbled, more so to yourself than uttered at the man, decayed. He wouldn’t hear, you knew, but the cage indicated that he wasn’t gone. Not entirely.
To fall for a scholar is a painful thing. Their thirst for knowledge will forever edge out their love for you. Better is to be loved by an inventor, for they love until invention. A scholar’s love means pursuit, and in the case of my beloved that pursuit has led him far away from me.
“Fear the old blood,” the man in white had told you, a statement you could place better now. ‘Fear the old blood’ he had written to you as well. You remembered those last words he had written to you before all fell quiet. Now you understood why, what had caused the silence and what the words had meant.
The pair of glasses locked behind the cage was all indication you needed to know where he was, were all you needed to know to know where to find him.
“No, we shall not abandon the dream!”
The voice of your beloved sounded through the nightmare, deep and sure, like you had known him outside as well, but there was something wicked in there, something crazed had taken over of which you knew that this man was no longer the Faust you had once known.
