Vampyre Hunter: Dimas

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A/N: I'm back after a bit of a hiatus. I will be keeping updates to a minimum. Yes, the title is from Witcher. The Witcher-esque idea has returned after I made Daelora the Wood Elf. This is set in the same universe as her story, maybe in a different part of a different town.

Relationship: male monster x gn (gender neutral) reader

Tags: gore, violence, lots of blood, swearing, angst-filled.

Word count: 3k

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Silver for Monsters

The snowstorm poured in from the north, chills mixed with the howling gale, screams neither belonging to those living nor dead.

Steunzen had the worst winters: for hundreds of years the town had stood, yet it barely survived a winter or its storm. You had to be blessed with a bountiful autumn before it was swept away with chills and deaths.

The Saints could've brought a better harvest by year's end. You thought, finding yourself gathering more wood in the shed. A simple tailor, you lived a comfortable life, yet winter came and ruined everything, including your sales from far out of Steunzen.

You had enough to get you by, though it was not much to keep your home warm. This year's storm must've been the worst in your twenty-four years of living; cursed the people whispered, Steunzen was cursed from some malevolent evil.

Gossip spread along the wind with ease, from house to house, business to business, and people spoke of what evil it was. Some saw it, some guessed: a being that snuck at night into people's homes, draining them of their blood similar to the Vampyres of the West.

Foolish, you thought, just to keep children behaving. There would be no such thing.

But people grew restless with their accounts. Starting small: missing chickens, a dead household cat, before the worst came to a vicar living near you.

A wild beast, you thought, still in denial, though your fear had not heightened.

You sighed, wiping the frozen sweat from your brow, still warm to the touch despite the coolness. The temperature had dropped dramatically, meaning you had to get back inside before the cold reached your hearth, and it would take forever for you to bring the flames back.

From the howling winds, the trees seemed to look like figures, swaying harshly as everything around you screamed. It was only when you thought you had been dreaming: a moving shadow, a tree that had come to life.

No, it was far from that.

He sat on a pale horse, its rider as dark as Death itself, lurking through the blizzard like a whispering shadow. He appeared before you like an apparition, his horse silent as he looked upon you.

He was dressed all in black, disguised in the darkness that you did a double take to the stranger.

It was hard to guess his features, a cowl covered his face from the cold, though the one thing visible were his eyes: intensely red, startlingly bright, like a bloody backdrop for carnage. They burnt like flames, tired and worn, yet they hid something only he could've witnessed. The hardships of man can be deadly, and even more so to those who have lived it.

It was only through your staring that you comprehended the muffled words coming from his covered mouth. "I'm sorry?" Your scarf blew the wind to bristle against your skin, pebbling with goosebumps.

"Would you take a humble stranger into your home?" his voice was rumbled and deep, smooth as a skipping stone, making your heart leap from the suddenness. "The cold had taken me off course."

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