MaeB

Bloodbound & Broken

How do you imagine it looks when someone who is technically already dead… Dies?
Well, Rhyland had never imagined that. Not in his life, nor his unborn life. In fact, before he was brutally attacked by that siren of the night, Rhyland hadn’t believed in vampires. But as he clung to the last string of lifeline that dangled in front of him, Rhyland acknowledged the irony that as a non-believer, he was dying (again) as a vampire.

“Where is your sire!?”

Slain twice in one lifetime? That had to be some bad luck. Rhyland blinked slowly as he attempted feebly to focus his hallow gaze on his executioner. Looming over him, broad in stature, was a man doused in weaponry. This man’s face was a perfect picture of determined rage, a clear disgust at the fledgling that lay dying before him. As if the arrow wedged in Rhyland’s chest wasn’t enough, the twist of a sword draped over his jugular meant the taste of imminent death became certain.

“Tell me!” the hunter bellowed. Rhyland, buffeted by the waves of confusion followed by ebbs of soaring pain, opened his lips to say something menacing. Something that might threaten the two humans. But his impotent threats with his maker in that alleyway months ago hadn’t exactly helped him, so the fledgling gasped a haggard breath. Air wouldn’t fill his lungs, his chest rising with that fractured breath meant the arrows presence became evermore obvious and Rhyland closed his eyes to pull back at the memory resurfaced just before.

“My sire?…” came a voice that must’ve belonged to him, but was unrecognisable now. Laced with a tortured plea, his voice croaked as it struggled to formulate the sounds.
“Don’t look for her,” Rhyland begged. His vampire mother’s frightening beauty etched into his minds eye. That pitiful, vengeful smile. Those scarily powerful arms. The smell of her perfume as she sunk her teeth into his neck…
”She was at Belle View,” he groaned out, a vision of the residential street an hour or so away flickering in memory. “Near the church in Belle View…”

As the final words left Rhyland’s cracked lips, he finally noticed the girl behind the man. Stoic but firm in her stance, she seemed to be looking at Rhyland analytically. Really looking. The fledgling let out another pained cry, like a wounded animal, and his arms flailed in an attempt to grab at the sword against his neck. The girl, also gripping a short sword braced for attack, would be the last thing Rhyland saw before dying… again.

“She’s not like me…” he croaked, voice tight and barely there “She’s stronger… So much stronger…”
It was a warning. One which Rhyland had no idea whether these humans would heed. Clearly, they weren’t scared of vampires. It seems they came prepared and knowledgeable of their target. The fledgling was wondering what a young woman like this one could possibly be doing, following a large man with a crossbow and wielding a sword of her own. Is this just what they did? Hunt down vampires to torture and kill them? Maybe it was. Maybe that’s who they were. At least they know, at least they have a purpose. Rhyland lost his the second that beautiful stranger laid her icy fingers on him.

Bloodbound & Broken

Rhyland, blinded by the white hot burn of thirst, was robbed of his heightened senses. You’d think a vampire’s hunger would increase their ability to see and hear, right? - No, the only sense that trebled when ravenous was their sense of smell at such a sapling age. A vampire as young as he, so fresh to this unborn life, stood no chance against two very adept hunters.

He just didn’t know that yet…

Rhyland remained frozen, crouched and braced for his new guests arrival. His pupils had fully dilated, becoming increasingly more blood shot as his food source approached. The talon, made for making incisions in skin ready for drinking from, had unsheathed with a trill. Those brand new fangs, having quickly replaced his regular canines, were fully exposed. Rhyland was the picture of horror; A dictionary definition of a fledgling.

SWOOSH

The surprise arrow struck right where a heart once beat with a harrowing crunch
A shrill, chilling scream shot out of Rhyland’s already open mouth. The scream, unlike anything human, hit a note unachievable for human vocal cords. It pierced the stone walls of the crypt and had such power, it might have cracked some of the bricks around him. Suddenly his cold, rigid body felt as if a fierce fire had ignited beneath his feet. The lick of the flames enveloped his entire form, curdling those ice cold veins and forcing his knees to almost buckle from the immense pain.

Suddenly, as Rhyland’s breathing corpse erupted into burning hot agony, a flash of a memory bore across his minds eye.

“A woman…”

He recognised her. A fearful acknowledgment of a familiar foe. It was this pain, this feeling that riddled him from that goddamn arrow in his chest, that caused a buried memory to resurface.

Sinking to his knees, hands clasping where the arrow pierced his chest, Rhyland blinked away the black cloud that shrouded his mind. Again, the memory buoyed to the surface and this time he saw her clearer. Like the scene of a movie, Rhyland watched the memory of his human self unwittingly living out the last of his human moments…

Work wrapped up late. Again. Fucking management had no clue. Why did only HIS desk have to stay after-hours because his pig-for-a-boss couldn’t prioritise tasks? Rhyland dragged deeply on his cigarette and felt his face pinch in scorn just thinking about how much more his manager was taking home in wages.

“Honestly, I could punch his fat face in” he growled to himself, as he stormed home. The last bus was long gone. So he was forced to take the long walk home. It was a cold night, too. And guess what? He’d forgotten his good jacket.

All of a sudden, Rhyland turned his head to look over his shoulder. He got the sense someone’s eyes were on him. You know that suspicious feeling you get in your chest when you’re not alone? There it was again, survival instincts coaxing him into an alerted state. Another cool breeze crept around his shivering body, cocooning him in that wintery air. Rhyland cradled himself, shivering dramatically.

Then, in a flash of long, dark, glossy hair and fine china skin, he was snatched off of his feet and dragged like a rag doll into an adjacent alleyway. He didn’t even have time to cry out in protest because she was upon him like a ravenous cougar.

“What the fuck are you doing you -“ Rhyland managed to choke out as his gaze briefly fixated on his assailant. Pupils. Fully dilated. Black bottomless pits planted in a hauntingly stunning face. Cheekbones. Bloodred lips pulled into a menacing smirk. Determined movements of her monstrously strong arms manoeuvred him up against the wall. One arm pressed firmly across his chest, pushing him into the cold, wet bricks behind him. The other? Raised above her beautiful head, her hand elegantly poised to reveal one singular, long talon.

“You bitch” Rhyland hissed, fear and fury spurring him on. “You fucking bitch. You wait. You wait until I get my hands on you-”

Then, something changed. His attacker’s previously chillingly calm face flickered with disdain. He realised, sickeningly, he’d said the wrong thing. Her smirk disappeared, replaced with a snarl. And the last thing he saw was 2 bright white fangs protruding from her parted, plump lips before she leant in and planted them firmly in his jugular.

The memory faded to black. Rhyland was still screaming. But now he could face his brand new assailants. The ones that had popped an arrow in his chest cavity.
He lifted his heavy, pained gaze to face them. Bound by burning agony, there was no fight in him. The least he could do was watch his killers as the certainty of death greeted him like a long lost lover.

Bloodbound & Broken

There is no broken soul in this world like the one that is discarded upon being bitten. As soon as those white-porcelain yet lethal canines penetrate soft human skin, something breaks. Not just the skins surface, but the essence of the victim found beneath. All they are and all they were corrodes, it bubbles for a moment then dissipates into nothing. What’s left of them? Well, a fledgling. A new born vampire with a mind occupied by one thing: Thirst.

It had only been a handful of months since Rhyland had been turned. His memory is fractured, fragmented and fuzzy since that fateful night. He remembers nearly nothing of his sire, the image is blurry as if underwater. And if underwater is where Ryland is, he’s drowning. Overcome by thirst, nothing but thirst. Every trail of thought his obsessive mind manages to grip hold of leads back, inevitably, to that burning desire to empty a human body of their blood. Nothing of his old life, his dead life, but his name lingers. At the beginning of the end, it was the only word that echoed in the empty chamber of his sense of self.

“Rhyland”

It still hangs there in the ether sometimes. A painful reminder that there used to be someone beneath this. He just wasn’t sure who that someone was…

It took many weeks for Ryland to begin to understand his new cursed life. Many mistakes had been made in order to process exactly what the parameters were of his vampirism.

• Head to church to prey for redemption “Nope, that results in excruciating physical pain with proximity alone. Can’t even put my hands together and begin to wish for anything without my skin itching like hell…”

• Approach someone, anyone, and plead for help “Humans are terrified of me no matter what I do. I can’t hide who I am, I can’t resist the sound of their blood coursing through their veins. Humans are both my enemy and a juice box I wish to drain, squeeze and discard”

Ryland’s mistakes went on just like this, missteps that resulted in catastrophic endings (mostly for his victims)
Now, he took a different approach:

Keep hidden. Always. Until the thirst becomes unbearable and then sneak out and snatch away an unsuspecting stranger.
Remain in this dark, secluded crypt. It makes you feel stronger when you’re hidden in the dark. Allow yourself to sleep, even if it’s brief. Turns out draining humans of their life is tiring.

This is exactly what Rhyland was doing when he was awoken from his light slumber.
The stone of the crypt was so chilled it felt damp and the air was stale. It was the kind of atmosphere that would chill your bones if you weren’t already dead.
Rhyland was curled into a ball, on the crypt floor, wrapping his arms around his body in a feeble attempt to comfort the burn of thirst that had become his constant.
A shift in the crypts air was what made him open one eye, his hollow gaze scanning the perimeter. Something was wrong. He was no longer alone.

As the fledgling became a little accustomed to the seismic physical and mental changes vampirism had wrought, Rhyland realised there were some advantages to his newly inherited torture. He could smell that sweet, hypnotic red elixir from miles away. Now, why did his nostrils fill with a cocktail of rose water and iron? Why on earth was he being awoken not only by the crack of stone beneath booted feet, but the irresistible aroma of his favourite perfumed, metallic beverage?

Rhyland slowly got to his feet, his body unfolding one limb at a time. His tall, wiry frame curled into a slightly crouched stance. His heckles protruding like a frightened cat, the young vampire heard a low moan escape his cracked lips. This was what happened when human blood crossed his perimeter. The presence of flesh and veins and a beating heart sent his body into an unbridled frenzy.

“Logic? What is logic? What is anything when all I want to do is taste that delectable scarlet tipple these humans possess?”

And how lucky for him that they’d seemingly wondered into his home? Well, his home for now, at least. A cool breeze carried a scent into his nostrils and they flared. Ryland's head cocked to one side, angling so he could get his fill of their smell.

“2 of them… Coming… One of them more fearful than the other… Moving closer…”

As the thirst took hold, Rhyland’s inner voice became broken, like a scratched record. It was hard to tether any coherent thoughts when he had just one inane desire: To drink. To drink until he collapsed. And this time, he didn’t have to hunt for it… They were coming to him.

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

Hey there, Lyla!

Good god I love this premise… Where do I sign?
F / F is where I thrive and I’m desperate to get my teeth into something well paced and explorative (pardon the pun)

What’s next? Did you want me to send you over a CS vis PM or anything?

Roses and Daggers - Looking for new players!

Sign me up! I’m returning to RPing after a 10 year hiatus. I’m rusty… But I love a meaty plot line and a developed OC. So committed to the cause.

Princess did PM me and I’ve asked what I need to do to get on board with this. Can’t wait to see where this goes!

Hello!!

A warm welcome from The Guild!

Nimriel's Rambling Introduction

Welcome! I’ve also recently returned to RPing and I’d be happy to collaborate on something together?

That way we can build one another’s confidence back up and grow a little before we head out into the big bad RPing threads?

Let me know what you think, feel free to PM me if you want to throw some ideas about?

Happy RPing!

A Chattering Lack of Romance (fandom and oc) (always open)

Hey hey!

I’m newly returning to RPing after taking a long old break.

Want to throw some ideas around together? I’m keen to dive into some really cool plots with OCs.

We can go through CS and concepts?

Let me cure your boredom!

Intro

A big warm welcome!

If you’re looking to hook up with someone on a slice of life RP, I’m here.

Happy RPing!

C's intro

Hey Cle!
Warm welcome to the Guild. I’m a newbie too and I think our desires really align here!
If you’re looking for someone to ease back into things with, I volunteer myself as a happy tribute.

Happy RPing!