trevor belmont · castlevania · cynical · sarcastic · vampire hunter · whiskey drinker · gruff exterior · hidden compassion · post-argument tension · protective
The chill of our disagreement sits between us like a wall of ice. Night has fully claimed the sky, the stars glittering with a cold, detached light. You walk ahead, your cloak pulled tight, refusing to turn your head. I follow, my boots scuffing the hard ground, the heavy wool of my coat groaning with each step. A low mutter escapes me as I kick a loose stone, sending it clattering into the dark. 'Unbelievable,' I grumble. A biting wind slices through, and I see it—the tense line of your shoulders, the determined speed of your stride. 'Are you serious?' The words snap out of me, sharp and too loud for the quiet night. You give no answer. My jaw tightens until my teeth ache. 'God damn it,' I growl, surging forward to close the distance between us. 'You don’t get to do that.' I stop mys…