Lyla

Bloodbound & Broken

"Delwy–?" Lyselle stopped herself just short of calling his name again, her eyes blinking a couple of times in genuine surprise — the sort of surprise you couldn’t fake if you tried. Whenever she brought this flair up, other members would ask her what she experienced, since each hunter felt the sensation differently — at least among those gifted in such areas. It was always hard to put into words, to turn the sensations of the supernatural into something describable, but she had always shared a similar explanation when inquired about it.

The shadow-haired woman often spoke of it feeling like a scent, that each vampire — even each undead — had a different feeling to them, even those mass-summoned by necromancers and tied to the same puppeteer. It enveloped you like a fog rolling in, or smoke being gently exhaled across her skin, something that almost reminded her of someone smoking in the dead of night, accompanied by that familiar bite of chilled air.

Vampires and their “smog,” as one might imagine, were always thicker, denser, and easier to pluck out among several impressions. She had met a “very old” vampire only once, during a hunt with a few of her older instructors, and never had she felt anything like it since — until now. She remembered the thickness of it, the pressure, the presence, and how wildly different it was from what hunters referred to as “old.” One of the few things she had never read or understood yet was why a vampire suddenly gained power past particular boundaries (as “old” and “very old” began somewhere around 219 to 249 years), but she had a theory that it had to do with the average lifespan of humans.
But that wasn’t the point.

The difference she had felt that day had been akin to day and night — but this, tonight, was so much more significant. Like feeling a downpour compared to a gentle mist. It instantly drew her guard, her blade in hand before she even realized it, her gaze darting around as she tried to sense the origin.

Then she saw her. Her eyes weren’t as powerful as her sixth sense, but even in the dead of night she could still catch the slight movement — a darkness swaying in the wind like a flag. Lyselle’s hands clenched around her hilt and her body tensed, her free hand slipping toward a bottle of silver dust — but would she even have time?

The memory of how fast an older vampire could move was burned into her mind, and with how thick the scent of this vampire was, she doubted she’d have any chance to complete a sigil. But instinct took over regardless — her fight-or-flight response flaring like a struck match.

Hoping she had time, she broke the bottle onto the ground and reached quickly for the hallowed powder, trying to draw a repulsion ward around herself to give her a few precious seconds to think. She was alone with something very old — ancient, even — and there would be no opportunity to run.

All she wanted to do was find Delwyn... but deep down, was that truly the reason?
A strange feeling gripped her heart as it began to pound faster.
Was it fear?
No — not really, though she did wonder how she might survive the night.

Perhaps... perhaps it was excitement.

Not excitement for the hunt — but something quieter, deeper.
A spark in her chest whispering that if she survived this, if she faced something like this and walked away...
Maybe — just maybe — she really was a prodigy.
Maybe she truly deserved to stand with the best of the best in history, just like everyone always said.

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

@Taka - Sure, if you really want that! It'll make him less powerful in any particular area (as far as 'armaments' go) but add versatility~

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

@TruckKun - if you're okay with your character being late, then sure! Might be shoved into the middle of the simulation going on right now, but that doesn't bother me any!

@Taka - The only things I'd like to see changed is removing the Pluck of Many and noting that the vision is supposed to be of a woman standing in front of a lake, so however you want to change that (and she looks like a "normal" human being).

Bloodbound & Broken

The man's grip tightened as the fledgling spoke, seeming to be completely unphased by its attempts at garnering sympathy from him - in fact, it almost made him angrier, like he was silently cursing this evil creature for daring to manipulate him. Him of all people. After what its kind had done to 'her'. With clattering weapons and a heavy brown trench coat, this was the most emotion he had shown ever since arriving on the Vigil's doorstep - it was something he didn’t expect the girl to understand, nor did he care! All that mattered was the fire bellowing in his chest where his heart used to be, now replaced by a vengeful ghost from the past. He spat in the creature's face before leaning in closer.

"You're all dead anyways," he snarled, and then his sword split across its neck so fiercely that it separated head from shoulders, the holy silver leaving behind a hiss like the wound was being slowly cooked alive. Then he threw the body away like the trash it was before sliding his blade back into place.

Lyselle had been told her whole life that these creatures were evil and she trusted that, but this was genuinely the first time she had ever seen so much hatred for their kind - almost awestruck, her mouth slightly agape. It was like he was torturing 'it' with some sort of twisted pleasure, like getting back at someone for smacking you across the face, but a hundred-fold. She had been in enough hunts to know how hunters extracted information - at least normally - with a cold indifference steeled by the mission of ridding the world of evil, and she had seen enough vampires struggling for their existence... but there was something in 'its' eyes that gave her pause. It felt different from the other hunts. It almost felt like the creature was hurting - almost like in some sad, tragic way, it wanted to die. Why would evil want to die?

She was suddenly shaken from her thoughts when she realized the man was staring at her. At first, he said nothing, just gave her a quiet, cold, calculating look before finally sighing. "It's a long story... but the sun is almost down for the night, so we should turn in..." Lyselle just absently nodded in reply and they both stowed their weapons and began their climb upwards - Lys giving one final glance back to where the vampire had died. On their way back up, neither spoke, and Delwyn seemed back to his ‘normal’ self when he encountered a priest in the church proper, giving short and polite answers. Finally, the priest thanked them and ushered them into lofts where a couple of makeshift beds were spread out for the pair. True to what she knew of him before seeing his rage, he was quick to disappear, but not before saying, "We'll go back to the Vigil tomorrow. If she's really as powerful as I think she might be - we will need more help."

So Lyselle plopped onto the pew, staring at the floor in thought.

---

By the time midnight had rolled around, the priests had locked up the church - though the hunters had their own ways of getting in and out - and Delwyn was still missing. Several times Lyselle wondered if he went to the Vigil on his own, or maybe to find the vampiress on his own? Both thoughts made her nervous for different reasons: either the thought of not being 'good enough' to come along to the Vigil, or that he was facing a powerful creature by himself. She quietly fidgeted with a bottle of silver dust in her hand as thoughts and feelings crossed her mind.
What if he did go back? Would her mentors be disappointed? Think she wasn't as 'gifted' as they believed? Not trust her to be ready yet?
But if he went to Belle View by himself... would he really? Was he capable of being so angry that he'd risk his life?
No hunter should be alone.

Then the thought that was bothering her the most flashed behind her eyes - that newborn. That look. Those feelings. Those doubts. She tried to shake her head, tried to cast them aside, but it was in moments when she was alone that she felt... weakest. A slight frown crossed her lips before she closed her eyes.
"Fuck!"

She stood suddenly and put the bottle into a pouch before seeming to grumble to herself as she marched downstairs to the back door. Her feet stopped just shy of the door and she stared for several moments.

"Am I really doing this?... ugh..." With a clench of her fist she reached up to the lock and clicked the wooden door open. Taking out a quick piece of paper and pen, she scribbled a sigil - a fairly basic and common one she had memorized - which locked the door behind her. As the paper faded into dust, she spun and put on a brave face again. She felt compelled to go to Belle View.

At least to know that Delwyn wasn't on his own.
At least that’s what she told herself.

---

The church finally came into view and her steps became quieter and more precise as her eyes scanned the dimly lit street. After a few silent moments, she cupped her hands and whispered loudly, "Delwyn?"

She waited for a response, standing as still as she could muster.
No answer.

The slightest gulp was the only indication that she understood how potentially dangerous this was, but just because the vampiress had shown up near here didn't mean she'd show up again. The young woman figured the chances were actually in her favor that this sire would not appear... but she couldn't help being cautious - such was the life of a hunter.

She drew closer still to the street this time, hunched over to keep her profile low, and called again. "Delwyn - are you there?"

Bloodbound & Broken

Footsteps planted heavily upon the cold stone floor of the crypt, clicking inbetween the monster's screams. He knew the moment he saw that look, that it didn't chose to fight or fly, but rather just let death come. Delwyn however, did not indulge the desire, instead swinging his blade to the creature's throat as he twisted the bolt planted inside its chest. The hunter growled and swung his weight into the newborn, forcing it on its knees and spoke with a distain that could only ever come from hate. "Where is your sire!?" he half-yelled, almost spitting into the once-man's face, his lips curling downwards into a scowl.

Lyselle seemed to relax some of her tension when she too realized the fight was already over and done with. It happened sometimes - this she knew from experience as no book she had read ever spoke much about vampires freezing in place. A memory whispered in her head of a time she asked why this happened. Much like most of her questions, it was met with a dull, 'sometimes they just give up'. She always thought it was such a boring question - did they not ever wonder why-- no, of course they didn't. At least most of them. A few of the Vigil shared her curiosity, but as far as she knew she was the only actual hunter that thought like she did, ever curious if there was more behind those striking eyes.

Delwyn hardly gave the vampire time to think before twisting the bolt again. "Tell me!" His passion... his ferocity surprised her, causing her to lower her weapon a moment and almost look to the man with sympathy. But she couldn't. 'It' was evil, so she clenched her grip, her jaw, and forced herself once again into a stoic expression. It was over and 'it' would be destroyed. Even in her impassive state however, she drew closer as to hear - to better see with her own eyes. Inside the Vigil you were born and raised within, so even if you never felt particularly close to your 'family', tragedy stuck far less often then one might think. The girl wondered ever silently to herself, if he had lost someone, her steps taking her closer to see not just hate burning in those orbs of his, but disgust at what 'it' was. Lyselle wasn't completely sure what to make of it... so she stood there and just watched, unable to look away.

Bloodbound & Broken

The faint groan was the only thing the more experienced Delwyn needed to pinpoint his prey - the sort that in the arrogance of its youth, assumed it was the hunter. A quick flip upwards before an echoing thwang bounced across the walls, signaling the release of a wrist crossbow lined with blessed silver bolts, marking its target. He knew it probably hadn't run into pain like this since its making, which is why he had the girl at the doorway - no telling how it might react. Would it snarl and go for the kill or panic and find a way out, both common reactions from animals being trapped into the corner. The man flipped his other wrist, brandishing his blade at the ready, honed by years of muscle memory and experience in battle, all too aware that even fledgling vampires were quick enough to attack from any side.

In the nearby distance, Lys tightened her grip around the hilt of her shortsword, her other hand loosening a glass bottle with blessed waters inside. She wasn't nearly as experienced or honed as her companion, but she had been enough of these hunts to know what was coming and that she had to be quick and focused. Thankfully, the only fear she really held onto was that of distant failure, and much less so of the creature. She knew their weaknesses and strengths inside in out - at least in theory. Some of what movies cover is actually real like hallowed ground, blessed silver, extreme discomfort with holy water, but other things like garlic or unable to cross running water were pure myths. In truth, their silver weapons and sacred grounds were their best weapons and defenses against vampire-kind and while hunters went after werewolves and other undead, vampires were and still stayed the most dangerous.

Thankfully even some of the newest members of the Vigil had an edge that the masters of undead did not - each other. Vampires were not often known to ally one another and the way Lys had been taught, it was due to their inherit evil and greed, while humankind was almost genetically designed to lean on one another. Traditions, methods, practices passed down from generation to generation and one of the most important rules; do not hunt a vampire alone unless you must. That's why Delwyn had asked for aid, even if all he got was a 'promising student' and not a more experienced partner. It was almost like a universal truth that had been discovered back centuries ago, that hunting vampires alone was almost certain death, except for the very luckiest and the very best.

So here they were, the pair of them, now having injured a newborn and steeling themselves for the most dangerous prey. The man had years to get used to this and Lys had her mark and that kept them both far more calm than this vampire would likely ever foresee. It was only a question now if it would fight or run - go to Delwyn or to Lyselle.

Bloodbound & Broken

The two hunters stood at the top of a twisting stairway into an underground crypt, a doorframe built with stone, into an old church that kept to old traditions - much like the Order did. While it served as a more prodigious cemetery for high ranking church members or those that supported the church, it also gave a fledgling vampire somewhere to slink into for sleep. That happened a lot with them, newly turned, unsure where to go or what to believe, some of them clinging to movie tropes and horror b-movies for reference when their sire just didn't give a damn about who they left behind or what souls they tossed to oblivion. Delwyn held up a hand for Lyselle to stop a beat, eyeing her cautiously. He didn't come from the Vigil but he had been hunting this vampire's sire for some time now and asked for help - the Order gave him Lys - their brightest and most promising to assist. Despite the Vigil's utmost confidence that she'd be able to help him with this fledgling, the outsider seemed suspicious of her and for reasons she could not bring herself to comprehend.

A whisper softly brushed the air, cautious not to alert even a new vampire and their enhanced senses, "you stay at the entrance and keep him from getting away if anything happens ... you know what to do if he comes at you, right?" There was a subtle eyebrow raise. Lys wasn't good at social norms and rules, but understanding people well enough to catch the tone and body language - she was much better with interactions where she could observe a person verses relying on second nature reactions to decipher someone's intentions. This one was obvious - he doubted her ability. Truth was... she doubted her own. But she had to keep up appearances.

"Of course," Lys whispered back, plainly so, "I am capable with my blessed silver weapon, have holy water on hand to distract, and I happen to know more than a few sigils." The man sighed, still uncertain, but willing to take the masked confidence at face value. He nodded then and motioned her to follow as they slowly went downwards, both with their hands on weapons. For Delwyn, this was just another day, but for Lys this was the calm before the storm. No matter how many times she had tagged along with mentors and teachers, she always felt so tense, afraid she'd slip and make a mistake one day and fall from the grace the Vigil had given her.

The crypt itself was about what you might expect - a chill in the air and only dim light from a few wall lamps that used to be torches back then. They were both as quiet as they could muster and when they crossed the threshold, Lyselle stopped at the doorway while the more experienced outsider creeped forward, both of them slipping out holy silver from sheath as quietly as possible.

F/F - Vampire x Vampire Hunter - Romance • Adventure • Redemption [18+]

@themaybreeze Hehe. How about when you have time, send a PM on any vampire lore you'd like to include and we can go from there!

F/F - Vampire x Vampire Hunter - Romance • Adventure • Redemption [18+]

I’m looking to start a female x female romance-adventure story centered on a young vampire hunter (played by myself) and a vampiress she’s been taught her whole life to fear. I want the tone to balance dark fantasy with character-driven development, slow-burn emotion, and a strong arc of mutual redemption.

🌙 Core Premise

For generations, the hunter’s family has been part of an old order devoted to hunting vampires and werewolves—believing without question that these creatures are irredeemably evil. She’s been raised in that world: disciplined, dutiful, and convinced she already understands the truth.

But during one of her first independent missions (novice/apprentice level), she encounters a vampiress who doesn’t fit the stories at all.

Something about her is wrong, but not in the monstrous way.
Wrong in how she feels familiar, how she awakens doubts, how she unsettles and fascinates the hunter all at once.
And in return, the vampiress finds herself unexpectedly drawn to the very person meant to kill her.

From there, the story becomes:
• A slow unraveling of generational prejudice
• A vampiress finding her humanity again
• A young hunter questioning her world
• Forbidden connection growing into something powerful
• Possibly traveling together, surviving attacks, unraveling conspiracies, etc.

🌙 Tone & Themes

• Slow-burn F/F romance
• Enemies-to-lovers or rivals-to-lovers energy
• Found family & personal growth
• Adventure with gothic vibes
• Morally gray characters learning to trust
• Redemption—for both of them, in different ways
• Plenty of room for world-building together

🌙 My Goals

• Collaborative storytelling
• Consistent posting pace (no pressure—life happens!)
• Well-developed, flawed characters
• Emotional depth with tension and chemistry
• Balanced action + character moments

🌙 What I’m Looking For in a Partner

• Someone who enjoys detailed, immersive writing
• Someone willing to contribute ideas and build the world together
• Someone comfortable writing darker emotional themes and softer romance moments
• Female or non-male writers preferred (because of the pairing dynamic)

🌙 Flexible Details

• Everything is up for discussion:
• Setting (dark fantasy, gothic modern, Victorian, medieval, etc.)
• Lore style (traditional vampires, unique magic system, etc.)
• Whether the hunter’s order has secrets of its own
• The vampiress’s personality (cold/stoic? seductive? sarcastic? tragic?)
• How fast or slow the romance develops
• Optional enemies, factions, rival hunters, covens, etc.

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

✦ The Chamber of Reflections ✦

The humming lights of the induction chamber brightened by a fraction, a subtle shift that made the metal floor gleam beneath the recruits’ feet. Commander Mara Hensley stepped forward again—and this time, she reached up and unsealed the catches at her jawline. With a soft hydraulic hiss, the silver helmet came free. She lifted it under one arm.

Her face wasn’t harsh, nor soft—striking in its restraint. Copper-brown skin, lightly freckled across the bridge of her nose. A narrow scar at her left temple, barely visible unless you looked for it. Her hair was a mass of tightly coiled black curls pulled back into a severe knot, elegant despite the practicality. And her eyes... cold, silvery gray, sharp enough to cut steel. Eyes that watched everything.

One of the recruits slightly off-center in the formation seemed particularly taken with the room rather than the woman in front of them. Sarah Oaks tipped her head back just a little, blinking up at the ceiling with open, unguarded wonder, as if the array of projectors and recessed plates were the most magical things she’d seen all week. Her weight shifted from heel to toe and back again, almost like she was unconsciously swaying with some unheard rhythm. She didn’t seem nervous. She didn’t seem anything except... impressed.

Mara’s gaze skimmed across her for only a heartbeat, registering her as one more recruit in the cluster, before moving on. If the commander noticed the way Sarah’s wandering feet always stopped just shy of any exposed conduit or hazard marking, she didn’t show it.

Murphy’s question about lunch broke the silence first. The sound of her voice carried easily in the chamber, bright and unbothered. Mara paused just long enough to make it clear she was choosing her words. “Our facilities include a cafeteria,” she said at last, tone even. “Your assessment will not deprive you of any medically necessary meals.” The faintest hint of something like wryness touched her mouth. “Whether lunch is earned or offered will depend on your performance.”

Behind her, Captain Redd exhaled through his nose, a soft sound that might have been amusement. Dr. Brandt had already started writing, his stylus scratching quickly across the surface of his tablet as he murmured, almost to himself, “Good morale focus... low observable anxiety... appetite intact under pressure...”

Elias Tran, standing toward the rear with a nervous hunch in his shoulders, gave Murphy a tentative smile—an expression that flickered as quickly as it appeared. Kira Voss, arms crossed with the easy self-assurance of someone who lived for competition, snorted under her breath, clearly entertained. Juniper Mallory, lantern hooked at her hip, offered Murphy a gentle, encouraging nod. Rashad Edden simply lifted a brow, amused in the 'I respect the guts' sort of way.

Mara’s eyes shifted, moving toward the red-hooded figure near the center. Eleanor said nothing, but the stillness under that hood made its own statement. No shuffling, no restless fidgeting, just a quiet presence that watched the commander with a steady, unreadable gaze. Mara regarded her for a fraction of a second longer than most. There was no praise in that look, no censure either—only a small dip of her chin that could have been acknowledgment, or nothing at all.

The man who spoke next sounded older than most of the room. Andrew’s voice carried the kind of grounded curiosity that came from someone who'd had time to grow skeptical of shiny toys. His question about the test’s similarity to real work drew Mara’s attention like a magnet. “Your assessment simulates the most common deployments you’ll see in the Order,” she replied. “Street-level threats. Crisis scenes. Unpredictable civilians. Less clean than this room suggests.” The barest breath of dry humor passed through her voice. “This chamber is the staging ground. Not the battlefield.”

Dr. Brandt didn’t look up, but his mouth moved as his stylus did. “Pragmatic... oriented toward real-world parameters... appropriate skepticism of simulation...”

Elias shifted uneasily, nodding as if reassured, Kira rolled her shoulders, eager, Juniper exhaled softly, steadying herself, and Rashad, arms loosely folded, was already analyzing the ceiling rigs.

Conner’s question landed like a stone skipped across the surface of a very still lake. Mara turned her head toward him, those silver-gray eyes taking in the relaxed shoulders, the easy grin, the restless tapping foot. “If you flood the facility,” she said, “Captain Redd will personally hand you a mop.” A beat of silence followed. “And you will continue your assessment. While still holding the mop.”

Redd didn’t flinch. “She’s not joking,” he said, matter-of-fact.

Juniper—a short recruit with round glasses and a messy bun barely held together—let out a small, involuntary sound before clapping a hand over their mouth. Dr. Brandt’s stylus paused, then resumed, his voice a soft thread: “Humor under stress... high kinetic readiness... control thresholds to be evaluated...”

Sarah’s eyes had left the ceiling at some point and drifted, seemingly at random, over the trio at the front. When Brandt muttered, 'control thresholds,' one corner of her mouth twitched, just for a second, before smoothing again. If she’d heard him, she gave no sign beyond that almost-smile.

Cade’s voice came in sharp, clean lines. He didn’t shout, didn’t posture, but the impatience in his words was hard to miss. Mara’s attention snapped to him—not harshly, but like a measuring tape being drawn taut. “Eagerness is an asset,” she said, and there was no softness in her tone now. “Impatience is a liability. You are here to learn which you possess.” There was no sting of humiliation in her delivery, but no cushion either. It was simply fact, laid out like a blade on a table.

Her gaze slid, very briefly, to the fiery-haired woman standing not far from him. Cecilia’s question came a heartbeat later, and Mara watched the way the two of them seemed to orbit each other without needing to stand side by side. “This is the first stage only,” Mara answered. “It begins here. It ends when the program determines you’ve demonstrated the baseline competencies for field authorization.” A pause, just long enough to suggest weight. “Most complete it in a single evening. Most.”

Behind the front line, Elias visibly swallowed while Kira grinned, sharp and ready. Juniper’s hand found the handle of her lantern, fingers steady despite her eyes lowering as Rashad muttered, “First stage... hm.”

Brandt’s voice dropped again, the words like the scratching of a pencil given shape: “Sibling pairing... complementary temperaments... likely to test operational boundaries...”

The chamber answered his muttering with a shift of its own.

The hum in the floor deepened, a bass thrum that vibrated faintly through boots and soles. Overhead, the recessed rigs in the ceiling stirred. Pale light began to gather in the center of the room, not yet forming anything coherent—just a fog of photons, drifting, swirling. A gridline flickered to life along one wall, a faint blue geometry etching itself across metal before starting to crawl upward and around.

Mara didn’t turn. Her eyes remained on the recruits.

“Our simulation is initializing,” she said. “This is your final moment before the assessment begins. Ask what you need to ask now. Once the program stabilizes...” She let the sentence hang for a breath, the hum of machinery filling the gap. “...you will act as a team. You will be evaluated as a team.”

Captain Redd stepped forward half a pace, folding his arms across his chest with the easy familiarity of someone who’d issued the same warning more times than he could count. “And if you fail,” he added, “you fail as a team.”

Dr. Brandt clicked his stylus once, a small, decisive sound, and lowered the tablet to his side. The light in the center thickened, condensing into the vague suggestion of rafters, the ghostly scaffolding of high warehouse beams, the hint of stacked shapes that might soon resolve into crates. Somewhere in that glow, the thin suggestion of red-and-blue police strobes flickered against an unfinished horizon.

The air in the chamber stretched tight, expectation wound like a spring. Mara’s gaze moved across their faces one more time, steady and unblinking.

“Questions,” she said. “Speak now. The next thing that happens is yours to answer.”