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The sun had recently dipped beneath the horizon, Gastly and their kin floated languidly through the sparse trees that fringed the swamps of the Crimson Mirelands, marred with the occasional yellowing remains of an ancient civilisation. Laventon had requested you investigate a stray Dartrix that had popped up within the shrouded ruins, as it was unusual for them to appear outside of space-time distortions, or appear in them at all, even here. This led to your current situation, quietly passing through the diamond settlement so as to not disturb those resting within the tent-like structures, raising your hand in a silent greeting when you caught the eye of a resident staying up late.
“Evenin’.”
The short acknowledgement was enough to ease your nerves somewhat. It was just a pokémon, nothing you haven't dealt with before. Surely you’d be fine, so what had you all tensed up like this?
Emerging from the other side of the village, your mind wandered to a certain blonde – it was most common to see him wandering some ruins at night, so perhaps fate would smile upon you and offer a fortunate coincidence? That was just wishful thinking though, he had disappeared around a month ago and you couldn’t help but worry. Initially you planned to come at sundown, as Dartrix tended to be more active at that time, but a small part of you made you wait just a little longer. You missed him.
A nearby rustle pulled you from your thoughts and you stilled, breath caught in your chest, hoping to avoid a battle; fortunately, it was just a Kricketot settling in for the night, a common pokémon for the ridge. You smiled to yourself and turned towards the trail that lead to the ruins, hope hastening your footsteps.
-
The path became broader and walls fell away into flat land, becoming a plateau with a striking view of Lake Valor. Unfortunately, you didn’t come here for sightseeing, and so the alluring glow of the moon’s face reflected off the water would have to wait. You had a pokémon to hunt down. Immediately you got to work, starting with the tall grass off to the side of the ruins themselves – best to get it out the way while you were on the way there – and you found yourself crouching low within, just barely avoiding the resident alpha’s view. It took a few minutes for you to stalk around the area, moving slowly as a precaution against the colossal Lickilicky. The air seemed to warp and twist around it, an illusion similar to the inches between the fading tip of a flame and the sky it so desperately reached for, a god’s divine power thrumming within its veins.
Unfortunately for you, there was no sign of the Dartrix here, the oppressive nature of the alpha likely keeping it at bay. Not a single stray leaf had appeared to point you in the right direction either, so you cast your gaze upwards to the place you’d been putting off. Your course was seemingly inevitable, distancing yourself from the powerful pokémon as you made for the ruins; there was an undeniable presence that stifled the area surrounding it, both intriguing and frightful, a feeling similar to being watched intently. Despite this, some pokémon found a home there, Ralts and Kirlia watching you between the cracks of ancient architecture as you approached, shying away when you got close enough to ascend from the ground to the raised stone surface.
That’s when you saw it.
A shadow flitted across your vision, scuffling muffled behind some debris. This was it, the forsaken bird you had been searching for. Readying a pokéball, you slowly crept towards the rubble – it seemed to be some kind of platform, likely the kind that a statue would rest upon. Was this a place of worship? A noble’s residence? You’d love to examine it further, but now wasn’t the time – and you peered just barely around the top. That was a Dartrix alright, though it seemed to be bleeding. It was pitiful. The poor thing was shaking, looking side to side frantically, as if hiding from a predator. You wouldn’t need to fight it, you realised, allowing yourself a quiet sigh of relief.
You swiftly tucked away your trusty pokémon, exchanging it for an empty heavy ball; the ideal choice given the short distance and low catch rate, you thought. You were angling your shot, a second away from throwing your arm forward, when…
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
A familiar voice called out your name.
The ball dropped with a thud.
“Volo?”
And the Dartrix wasted no time, jumping suddenly away from you and spreading its wings, unleashing a cascade of razor-sharp feathers – leaves? – as it fled the scene. Your face stung, your arms taking most of the hit, sleeves shredded to patches of fabric and thread.
“Sinnoh! Are you alright? I’m terribly-”
You turned to face him, and he faltered. Slate grey locked on to crimson, the shallow wounds beginning to weep, heat leaking into the cool air as it dripped down your cheeks. He looked almost haggard, hair sticking out of his cap at uneven angles, clothes crumpled and stained with dirt. A gentle breeze nudged at your back, and Volo’s nose seemed to twitch before he straightened up, looming over you. The moonlight cast to enshroud his face, and his eye gleamed from the dark.
“Volo.” You began again, your hands and arms slick with blood as you tried to soothe your wounds, the red liquid sticky where it was thinly smeared from your attempts. “It’s really you, right? I’m not just… Imagining this, or something, right?”
There was an audible strain to your voice, and Volo could tell right away what the issue was. Not the pain, nor the saccharine blood, wasting away as it leaked upon the ground – no, it was him. Were you angry? He certainly would be, he thought, if you were to disappear without a trace and only come back to hurt him.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out, only the smell of your wounds hitting the back of his throat. It startled him into action, fumbling his rucksack from his shoulders and dumping it hurriedly on the ground. Inching closer while he buried his arms in it, you smiled a little, relieved just to see his dumb cap again. He was always quick to action, seemingly impatient despite his lax nature when it came to work; it was nice to see him being himself, even if it was at your own expense.
As if in response to your thoughts, Volo resurfaced from the bag with bandages in hand, as well as a small medkit. You both sat at the base of the pedestal you'd been peering around beforehand, and he silently gestured for an arm – both of them were pretty bad, so you just picked your dominant one – and began to clean it, face stone cold from his focus. A wince coaxed him from his silence, expression softening with worry.
“My apologies.” The comment came when he grazed a wound, but you felt it held more depth than that. Unable to find it within himself to look into your eyes, he gazed at the wounds he was disinfecting, gently tugging away the remains of your sleeves from where they had stuck to your blood. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he bit his tongue, though he wasn’t finished speaking.
“It was… Selfish of me, to leave without saying anything.” Words he truly meant, but his mind was anywhere but there. He had missed you: your face, your voice, your scent. It was driving him crazy, words forced through sharpened teeth when he spoke. “I had to deal with some personal matters, but it won’t happen again. You have my word.”
He’d never hurt you like that again.
The pads of his fingers were stained crimson, the scent growing stronger as he unthinkingly put his hand to his mouth, pondering how he could best patch up your face. His tongue swept across the point of contact indulgently, electricity shooting through him when he was met with the sweet taste of your ichor. More. A single thought that had latched on to him since the day you had first met. I need to know more , he’d thought, his plain curiosity of you warping into something else as you grew closer. I need to see more , he couldn’t deny his interest. You were nothing like the meek, cowardly villagers or the curt galaxy grunts.
I need to taste more.
His form shifted, and you sat stiff as he leaned forward, eyes dark with some unnerving emotion. He leaned in further, his hair brushing against your cheek, his breaths mingling with your own. Sorry. A whisper, barely there and swept away by the breeze as soon as it was released. A warmth settled upon your face, and one of the cuts along the side stung as something rubbed against it. That was… His mouth-? He moved slowly, softly cleaning the blood from your face. The realisation sent a current through your body, a stuttered breath catching his attention.
Volo looked positively elated, a pointed smile against your now-burning cheek. It was the kind of smugness you might see when a glameow outsmarted some poor bidoof, lain helpless beneath them as the feline took their sweet time to devour it. You found it nigh impossible to process the situation, not a single utterance leaving your throat as he continued closer, and closer still. He particularly enjoyed a cut on your lower lip, making your chest tighten with conflicting emotions.
It’s not like you hated this or anything – far from it actually. You were quite enjoying the attention being lavished upon you after his sudden disappearance, but you couldn’t help asking yourself why . Maybe you’d had a bit of a schoolyard crush, however, you never expected him to reciprocate, never mind initiate something like this. You deserved an answer at least, and as he grazed your lips with his own, you pressed a hand lightly against his chest, not feeling so much as a single thud.
The merchant’s face shifted in an instant, a shred of fear visible for a split second. It was as if he hadn’t even realised what he was doing until this moment.
“..Why?”
His thoughts seemed to flicker, confusion visible in his features. Perhaps you should be more specific?
“You apologised, and now this…” You took a moment to prepare the words, confronting him wasn’t an easy task. “Why would you say sorry?” Your hand, still stained red, came to rest on his chin, tension palpable. His expression continued to morph, poorly hidden nerves bleeding through. This wasn’t like him at all.
“Why, Volo?”
Such a question was to be expected, but his mind was fried, copper with a hint of sweetness still tingeing his perspective. He swallowed dryly, unsure how he’d be able to explain himself. Thirsty – no, he was parched. That Dartrix had been fiesty, draining him of most of his energy before he had the chance to drain it himself. And there you sat before him, openly bleeding, not running away. It was too perfect.
Only one word was present in his mind, looping over and over, spilling from his lips before he could stop it.
“Blood.”
-
You had heard whispers in the village ever since you’d fallen, perhaps even before you fell. Not of you, but of mysterious beings, masquerading as people. It was said that they’d lure away any foolish enough to follow, enchanting them with charming words and porcelain skin. Ageless, Flawless. Those who lost themselves in this creature’s embrace would be found days, weeks later, sometimes alive, sometimes not. All shared one thing in common. They were found shivering, pale, drained of blood, never speaking of the experience if they recovered. You had always attributed it to a pokémon, Crobat, or Gliscor perhaps? Vampirism never crossed your mind.
“I-” you could see how he struggled to find words, audibly straining to admit it, “I need blood.”
Yet, here sat a man with such a craving, such hunger in his eyes, it was impossible to deny. Your eyes drifted down to his mouth, the corner smeared with red, sharp fangs just barely peeking out below his upper lip. Looking at him now, he appeared like a wild animal, hovering over you with the last threads of his restraint. Perhaps it was the rush of him caging you in, the adrenaline of his attention, or perhaps it was your own emotions blinding you. These were dangerous waters, but you felt no apprehension when you spoke.
“If you need it, you can take it.”
There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere after he recovered from the initial shock of such an offer. his eyes darkened, irises glinting nigh-black with your own reflected within. It didn’t stay that way for long, as his head dipped lower, fingers grazing your collarbone when he slid your shirt aside, causing a slight tremble when it was exposed to the dusk air. In response, Volo gingerly smoothed over the wounds on your cheek, pressing his mouth to each one. He wanted to be gentle with you, even while his insides clawed with a desperate need.
Slowly, he made his way down to the crook of your neck, gladly releasing your heated breaths into the night as he did. Sharpness grazed it as if he was asking for permission, his own exhales unsteady when he could smell the life under your skin. A nod was all it took, and he indulged in you.
It began with a sharp pain, and you fought against your own voice, the urge to whimper becoming too much to bear. The man atop you took notice of this, wrapping his body around you and securing his hands in the fabric around your waist. This made it easier to stay still, but it was also comforting. His torso was flush against yours, settled happily between your legs while he drank, warmth overwhelming you. As time flowed, dripping down your neck like syrup, the sensation of his fangs changed, injecting you with some cool liquid. Your nerves lit up, body trembling for an entirely different reason. Sinnoh above, it felt incredible. A deep chuckle reverberated against your neck, the change in your demeanour quite obvious to the one causing it.
All too soon he retracted, not wasting a single ounce, eagerly savouring the beads of blood that would well up when his fangs dislodged from you. The slits in your flesh ached with their absence, a hazy part of your mind – when had you become so dizzy? – almost wishing he’d bite you again. That vampire stuff was one hell of a drug, weak arms shaking in their grip around him, one you weren’t even aware you’d had until now.
Despite the blood loss making the world feel like ice upon your skin, your torso was aflame, Volo’s eyes meeting your own. His hair had fallen out of place, and the flash of grey-violet behind his fringe was left open to see.
The two of you were an utter mess. That’s what you would’ve thought if he hadn’t leaned in and kissed you right then, his lips still tinged metallic. A moment, two, and you were moving back against him, prompting a pleased sigh from the taller man. His hand slid over your own from where it clutched at the right side of his apron, soothing it when it trembled. It was so much, too much, you were completely lightheaded, breaking away with an apologetic expression. He was patient, thumb still drawing circles on your wrist while you caught your breath.
“Sorry- Sorry, I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”
Volo only smiled, shaking his head.
“No need, technically I’m at fault for that.” Adoration spilled into his tone, the sight of you so dishevelled before him one he’d need to commit to memory. There was beauty in the ruins, he’d often found, and you were no exception. His voice gained a playful lilt as he continued. “Though, I don’t plan to apologise. You seemed to enjoy it.”
You were actually pretty thankful that your face could only muster up a faint flush at this point, otherwise you’d be bright red. The bandages littering your body itched, reminding you of how exactly you got into that situation. “That’s fine.” You replied, “I won’t miss one apology from the hundreds you owe me.” A wave of your arm caught his attention, and you laughed at his mortification. “Not really! Though, I might need some help getting back.” The limbs on the lower half of your body had gone worryingly numb, and standing up would be an impressive feat.
No sooner than you had suggested it had he vanished to fetch his rucksack, left half-open and forgotten a few feet away. It felt a bit lonely without him right in front of you, such a thought leaving you embarrassed, but he returned swiftly, crouching before you.
“Up we go!”
A squeak escaped when he lifted you right off the ground, muscles hidden under his lithe form. You had only expected him to help you up, but no, your legs dangled in the air, an arm tucked under your knees and back for support. Silently, you thanked whatever mysterious force was keeping you from passing out right this second.
“I set up a camp nearby a while ago, it should suffice.” He spoke neutrally, yet his face betrayed his mischief, seeming to take pleasure in how helpless you looked. It was a good look for him, something in your mind nudged, a thought that made you glance anywhere but him. A bloodstain caught your eye, not your own, but the one who’d brought you here in the first place.
“The Dartrix-!”
“Hm?”
Oh, right, he never saw what attacked you.
“The pokémon that hurt me, it was bleeding. I hope it’ll be okay...” You trailed off, worrying your lip. It had been bleeding pretty badly from your observation, and you weren't sure how long it would survive on it's own.
“Oh, that?” He sounded relieved, reassuring you. “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”
Volo wasn't opposed to a midnight snack.