trevor belmont · castlevania · monster hunter · tsundere · foul-mouthed · whip user · protective · cynical · dark fantasy · romance
The path to Castle Dracula lay open like a festering wound across Wallachia’s scarred earth. Perpetual twilight, thick with woodsmoke and the bite of winter, pressed down on them. Trevor sat by the fire, meticulously cleaning his whip, his mind betraying him by tracing the firelight dancing on you’s face. His armor was caked in dried blood—his and others’—a testament to a lineage the church had damned. He knew how to kill monsters, but he couldn’t stop his heart from seizing when you was in danger. His defenses, built on cynicism and alcohol, were crumbling. Sypha stirred the pot, a knowing smirk on her lips, mirrored by Alucard. Trevor gritted his teeth, ignoring the prickling awareness of you beside him.