Fielas.

That day was... Gloomy.

It was late in the evening. Mist hung low and thick, obscuring the vision of any normal person with ease. Snow fell from the sky as it slowly began to accumulate on the ground.

Two pairs of steps could be heard walking across the rocky ground surrounding the grandiose, Victorian castle, belonging to the house Wulfgar. One very powerful family. Blood staining almost every member's hands, with blood stained teeth as they eagerly licked that very blood off their hands. Though very aristocratic and even elegant in their violence, though there came exceptions with the likes of brutal martial artists who descended from Wulfgar blood, such as the famous Godwyn Wulfgar.

The footsteps belonged to two people. Silas "Ashakh Jasakh" Silah Kushfarin Wulfgar, and Fiele, One huge difference in name sizes, that one. Anyways, Silas was there for revenge, and Fiele was there out of sheer curiosity.

Silas was a tall and lean man, standing at, what, 6 feet and 2 inches? He was almost lanky. His hair was primarily black, long and wavy, but he had a separate section where his bangs would be where half of his bangs are separate locks, with white hair in there. His black hair also had the occasional silver hair. He had mostly white skin. He had decent musculature to go with his vascularity, and he was absurdly strong physically, as well as with his supernatural abilities, which mostly consisted of mutations, immunity to other magics and telekinesis.

Fiele, on the other hand, was a good foot shorter than Silas, and was far more well rounded physically, being strong and flexible without betraying her body's need for nutritions. She was middle eastern, and had the longest hair anyone had ever seen. The thickest, too. Split into two braids, both reached down to her legs. She was also a gunslinger.

Silas would suddenly stop his movements as they passed through the mist. He was clad in many garments, wearing a white tunic with a black cravat, paired with black trousers and boots, as well as a large overcoat and even a black cape to finish it all. With a large black wide brimmed hat, as any aristocrat would in his place. Though Silas would throw his overcoat over Fiele for this one, as she wasn't exactly known for wearing clothes suitable for northern climates.

The reason why Silas would stop in his tracks? He could see— no, he could feel there were guards wandering aimlessly in the middle. His white, cold hand that rested upon the handle of his steel estoc would grip it tightly, as his other arm would stretch out before Fiele's midriff as to avoid her moving forwards and closer to the enemy. Once he had her attention, his hand would move to his face, where he would place a finger directly above his mouth, and he would point into the mist, aiming to various locations that were seemingly random. These were targets, and they would share these. Fiele didn't react to him pointing these out, and simply reached for her handgun, while Silas moved deeper into the mist, the sound of slicing flesh and dropping bodies following suit. Fiele would aim her gun only once, and once shot, a multitude of thuds were heard. Her bullet would ricochet throughout the location, piercing through multiple targets at once. While they didn't have to be fatal, she had no issue finishing the targets off by hand, which she would, as they didn't make it difficult for her to find them by groaning of pain.

As Fiele let go of the neck of the final target, she would hear a rusty tool swinging in the distance, as a golden light seemed to sway side to side, and Silas would emerge from the mist, finally having located Fiele again. It was a lantern. He would look down at her, looking closely, before pointing in one direction, casting her the lantern, and leaving in that direction.

The lantern fell to the ground with a loud clatter as Fiele didn't catch it. She would scoff and mutter many insults under her breath as she picked up the lantern, grabbing onto Silas' overcoat as it almost slid off of her when she knelt down to pick up the tool. Was being this silent really necessary? Before long, she was walking in the direction Silas pointed towards, and she would notice a warm, faint glow in the distance. As she got closer, there was less and less mist, and she noticed hardwood gates that lead into the inside of the castle. It was a small room, with a fireplace, which was the origin of the warm glow. Once she entered, Silas would be standing there, and he would quickly close the wooden gates behind her as to avoid letting the cold air in.

"We may rest here. This is a location unused by the members present here. We've just taken care of those who did. You're not hurt, are you?"

Fiele gave Silas an angry glance. Why should she be hurt?

"No, I am not. Are you? Did one of my bullets accidentally ricochet against that thick skull you have? Give me a break for a moment.."

She said, almost mockingly, that last part did come out a little quieter though. As she put down the lantern, she noticed she had stained Silas' overcoat with blood. It was lots of blood. Thick, sticky, somewhat warm blood. She remembered how annoying Silas could get when it came to his clothes getting dirty. Something something expensive materials from an oriental trader. What a drag.

She heard Silas boots quickly clicking towards her against the hardwood floor as he audibly gasped. As she prepared to look Silas in the eyes, she turned her face up, only to meet with nothing? She looked down and noticed that Silas was on one knee, holding her hands, which were stained with that same blood. His cold hands holding her hands by their palms gently.

"We must get this impure blood off of your hands. It is unclean, tainted."

"Ah, yes... Right..."

Silas held onto her hands with one hand as he got back up, softly tugging on her hands to follow him. He didn't want to pull her with him, knowing that annoyed her. Before he knew it, she was already walking in front of him, but she was going the wrong way.

"Here's the wooden tub. It has clean water in it, I got some ice in there from outside."

He pointed at the wooden tub, it was quite sizeable, for Fiele at least. She bet she could almost fit into it. She noticed the faint red glow of coal under the tub, explaining the speed at which the ice managed to melt. She went to kneel down before the basin, but Silas would stop her, placing his hands on her shoulders, pulling his overcoat off her and throwing it onto a chair. It was then that Fiele would notice that Silas had also removed some of his clothes, wearing only the tunic and his trousers with his boots.

"I'll wash that off later... Can you wash the blood off yours-"

"Yes, Silas, I am pretty sure I am more than capable of cleaning the blood off myself."

Fiele would reply quicker than Silas could form his sentence, but as she rubbed her hands against eachother in the warm water, she noticed that big chunks of coagulated blood would fall off, yes, but smaller bits and disgustingly gelatinous and sticky blood would stick to her skin and even spread. Fiele looked down with horror. What the hell was up with this blood?

"Yeah, it's as I thought. The lower class soldiers are... Experiments. Right. The Hunters of the Wulfgar clan are being injected and fed all sorts of stuff. This strange blood is merely a byproduct of the advanced physical capabilities of these soldiers."

Silas spoke with such regal elegancy and that upper class knowledge that Fiele somewhat disliked. Such aristocracy, riches, fame, born wealth. Unfair. Burn every last one of the rich, she would say. But would she really burn Silas, too?

"... Yeah, I figured that was the case... Now, er... Wash my hands. Show me you can do more than you can talk, all you've been doing so far is just talk.."

She said, quite unsurely. She didn't actually know any of this, but that was only a given. The Wulfgar clan keeps everything under tight covers, and Silas merely knew of it because he used to work for them as a born member of the family. Silas was taken aback by this command, but he figured that he might as well. Silas got down as well, though he would sit next to Fiele, his left knee would end up between both of her knees, as he pushed as close as he could to her. His left arm went around her torso and his right arm would immediately reach for something horn shaped on the ground. Pulling off the little fabric that covered the base of the open horn, there would be quite a goopy and sticky liquid that poured out of it, and it would drip onto Fiele's open, red hands, and he would put it back aside. She would shiver and almost wretch at the feeling.

"... What is that?"

"Hmm... They call this mysterious liquid... 'soap'... I was almost certain you'd know what this is."

"I know what soap is, you dolt. Who keeps soap in a horn?!"

"I do."

"You're such a... Just wash my hands clean already."

"I do as you please."

Silas began to rub the soap into her hands. So, the simple solution was simply the use of soap? Made sense. Fiele's face went red with embarrassment when he said it was called soap. Was he talking down on her? Looking down on her? No, no... He had definitely used a different tone... He must've been joking.

Anyways, Silas continued to wash her hands, finally, finishing, he exhaled down her neck as he got up, grabbing a cloth to dry his hands off.

"I assume you know how to use a piece of cloth to dry your hands, yes?"

It was now obvious that he was joking, as his tone had changed, and he was close to giving a small chuckle. She simply snatched the cloth out of his hands.

"I know what soap is. Don't think otherwise."

As she finished drying her hands, she smacked Silas with the cloth, as she threw it right in his face. He grabbed the piece of cloth off his face and put it on the table. Fiele and Silas were both getting sleepy and tired.

"Fiele... Would you like to rest? There should be no new guards until tomorrow noon. That is when they switch patrols."

Fiele hated the way Silas said her name. There was something to it.

"Yeah, I'll take any well deserved rest I can get."

"Then so shall I."

Silas pointed at a corner, it had a bed of hay on there, but it was close to the fireplace, so they wouldn't be cold. Fiele quickly ran over there, nestling down into the warm hay like a mouse. Silas wanted to join her, but he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, so he abstained from joining her, instead, changing his plan.

"Actually, I will clean my clothes. They got dirty. You have a good night. Sleep well."

"Have a good night, too."

And with that, Silas would begin to quietly wash his blood stained overcoat as Fiele quietly snored a few hours into the night. After those few hours, Silas felt dead, tired. He hadn't feasted on blood in the longest time. Is it too late to mention he had become a vampire? Or a vyrdolack, as they liked to call it over where they were at the moment. He looked out of the window, looking at the night sky as the stars and moon moved around ever so slowly. He would look back, watching Fiele sleep. For a second, Silas thought of joining her. But he was so tired.. he didn't want to stay up anymore.

So, he did what he had to do.

He walked towards that bed of hay, his steps slow and sluggish, and he got down on his knees before the bed, before gently laying down next to Fiele. Well, really, only his upper half was on the bed, right next to her stomach and legs, and his legs were on the ground. Inadvertently, as he fell more and more into his delirious sleepiness, he would gently place his arms around Fiele's legs, holding then close, almost hugging them, as he unconsciously pressed his face against Fiele's warm stomach, only prompting him to leave it there as the warmth proved too pleasant. Fiele didn't seem to notice, but neither did Silas realize that he even did this.

"Good.. goodnight to me... And to Fiele.."