⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀wednesday again. ⠀

⟢ / 👁️

⟢ / caught up w/nocturne at last and I am being very normal about alucard

( *💭 )

⟢ / remake or rebirth hmm

sword in hand, his breaths are slow and even as he dances through a complicated routine of parries and swings, focusing more on perfecting his footwork than the rest of his form. the needle therapy helps, but it can only go so far in fortifying his mind to the pain. that he must do himself.

#castlevania #alucard

balancing a gold needle delicately between his teeth, he holds it steady with the tip of his tongue, feeling carefully across his flesh for the ragged edge where skin becomes stone. this was all so much easier to ignore when he had a handler to take care of things for him.

what a week.

#alucard #lyudmil #castlevania

⟢ /

( *📸 ) yep. this one’s going in my cringe compilation.

sometimes it’s the little things in life that make it worth living. like instructing the local apothecary to bill the company for his bulk order of gold needles. the receipt will never make it to rufus’ desk, he expects, but the thought amuses him all the same.

“mercenary work—? perhaps when my days grow dull it could become an option.” trapping a loose curl between his fingers, he worries the ends between his gloves. he has learned not to put too much faith in notions of freedom. “but there is still much of the world to see between now and then.”

“perhaps.” he acknowledges, inclining his head. “the men who hold my leash do not take kindly to losing their pets. even the discards. at present, I have freedom enough. but there is no telling when the call may come.”

“we may only hope that the fates conspire to keep it that way.” he muses, turning his gaze towards the overcast skies. “even a broken tool may still serve a purpose to their master.”

smiling faintly, he taps the side of his head with his thumb. “—to listen to the wind. this world has had its fill of fighters.”

fed and feeling a little guilty over his brazen manipulation earlier, he leaves behind a hefty tip on his table, and gives the maid a little apologetic nod of the head. carefully untucking his hair from the collar of his coat as he strides for the door, shaking the length out over his —

#alucard #castlevania

( *unfortunately ‘prickly’ is precisely the sort of energy he’s used to. watching out of the corner of his eye. maybe he’s the one being rude. hmm. ) “quiet night, isn’t it?”

⟢ / square enix won’t 4k her so I’ll do it myself

⟢ / she is coming

“intriguing.” considerate of the space, apollo draws his outstretched leg back under himself, making room for the man to sit. “following the whims of the heart is man’s greatest calling.”

⟢ / I miss vincent & shera’s little chats sm 😭

( *oh? does he need to stare harder? ) ( *sidling on over to stand next to him. )

⟢ / my cinnamon apple!!!

⟢ / scratching at kat’s door like this:

( *watching @cerberoluctus.bsky.social with big autistic eyes. )

“in this day and age, yes.” tipping his head as a new thought occurs to him, he brings his hands back down to his lap, resting them over the centre of the blade. “what brings you to this neck of the woods?”

perhaps it was a little unfair of him to dazzle the barmaid, he muses to himself, leaning back against the darkened booth. poor thing had looked liable to drop when she’d tottered, fawn-like away from the table to beg the kitchens for one final order. but a man has to eat sometime, and sleeping, —

a warrior—? smiling, apollo chuckles to himself and takes the offered hand, shaking it once. firmly. “the last of a dying breed, or so I hear.”

“something like that,” resting the sword across his knee, apollo leans back to look at the man properly. “apollo. a pleasure.”

stroking a gloved thumb over the polished edge, the blade sings, and seemingly satisfied by what he hears, apollo’s eyes turn, weighing that question up thoughtfully in his head. “—do you chop off your arm every time you get a scratch?”

sitting on the floor with one leg tucked beneath himself, and the other stretched out. performing a little routine maintenance on his gear. paying particular attention to his rapier. checking it over for rust and wayward burrs the whetstone may have missed.

did he really sleep that long..?

hm. the city is much quieter at night than expected.

✧ / I know vampirism doesn’t technically exist in vii but my god I want to make polly a dhampir (thank u alucard)

it seems he somehow managed to sleep his way through the holidays.

covering his eyes with his hands, he groans quietly. these headaches are becoming more and more frequent of late.

peace these days is as quick to turn as the weather — they must grab it with both hands whensoever they are able. even if that does mean taking in the sight of a winter sky beside a stranger. sparing a thoughtful glance to the woman at his side, the air of melancholy between —

it has been so long since he last saw snow clouds this heavy hanging over the city.

. . .he could really do with drinking more water, and spending less time staring at a screen. perhaps then his head will hurt a little less.

lovingly smoothing a whetstone over the edge of his blade.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀♱ 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄. THE CHOSEN ONE TO 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑬𝑻. ↷↷ ⠀⠀⠀

quiet night, don’t you think?