Sweet Blood, oh, It Sings to Me

BY : Mercury in Retrograde
Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > AU - Alternate Universe
Dragon prints: 78
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne or any of the characters in it. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Author's Note: The pronunciation of the OC's name is Zander. It's basically a shortened version of Alexander. 


Upon entering the Hunter’s Nightmare for the first time, Gascoigne saw the possessed moon in the sky just to the left after exiting from a room that was the spitting image of Oedon Chapel. An odd sort of thrill went through his body when he saw the misshapen moon. That’s because it closely resembled the pupils of his own eyes—distorted, collapsed, with cloudy strands pulled across it like a spider web. 
Up on a ledge not far away, a hunter was watching Gascoigne. He carried a pistol and a weapon that looked like a cleaver from the Dark Ages. However, it converted into a large metal whip with serrated teeth in its extended form—the beast cutter. 
“Poor fool,” the hunter said to himself as he gave a quick flick of his wrist and killed the two beast patients walking towards him. He walked down a path between the rocks, approaching the stranger silently. Knowing that the possessed moon had a strange effect on certain people, the hunter gave the stranger space, standing to the side a few feet away from him. 
Gascoigne knew that the other hunter was standing next to him, could see him in his mind’s eye. But he was just so enthralled with the moon that he couldn’t stop staring at it. 
“It’s a thing of beauty, isn’t it?” the hunter asked quietly, not wanting to startle the stranger but at the same time wanting to make some friendly conversation with him. 
“’Tis, indeed… I can just imagine it hanging in the sky above the Eiffel Tower in Paris or looming over the deserts of Africa…” It sounded like he was talking about a lover rather than the moon. 
The hunter chuckled to himself, leaning against the balustrade that Gascoigne was holding onto. “Now that, my dear blood-drunk friend, is something that could only be accomplished by a Great One…” he said softly, lightly tapping the tall man’s hand. When he didn’t get a response from the stranger, he moved in closer, undoing the top two fastenings of his shirt. He twisted his upper body so that the towering man could see the muscles of his chest, the bloody metal of his beast cutter glinting in the sickly light of the possessed moon. 
“You wouldn’t happen to be a Great One in disguise, would you?” the hunter inquired in a breathy whisper, running his hand up Gascoigne’s arm, feeling the hard bulge of muscle underneath the material of his outfit. 
“No, I’m not…” Gascoigne responded, grinning slightly, showing off his unusually large canine teeth. 
“Oh? Do you know of one then?” The hunter didn’t know what prompted him to ask such a question. Perhaps it was simply a lack of conversation topics but the response he got revealed that this tower of a man was not lost—he was on a mission. 
Gascoigne opened his mouth to form the word “yes” then immediately reverted back to his ferocious yet mysterious grin. “No, I don’t know of any Great Ones… but enough about them… what is your name?” 
“Xandr,” the lean hunter said jovially, putting out his hand to be shaken. 
“Gascoigne,” was the equally amiable response, accompanied by another flash of those sharp teeth. 
After they were finished with their introductions, Xandr led Gascoigne to a plaza that was teeming with beast patients. There were two other hunters who were already busy flaying the hapless beasts, making chunks of fur and blood fly. Those beasts that didn’t die cowered away from the hunters, then fled to the other side of the plaza. Gascoigne immediately gave chase, shooting after them. The beasts all turned to face him, thinking that they could gang up on him. 
Gascoigne extended his axe, scraping the huge blade against the ground back and forth, making sparks fly. 
Xandr’s loins stirred. He longed to make sparks of a different kind fly with the towering hunter.
A few of the beasts charged Gascoigne and they didn’t know what hit them. They were uppercut into the air at least thirty feet, landing with a sickening thud when they hit the ground. The rest of the beast patients ran as fast as their spindly legs could carry them, tripping over each other in an effort to flee from the formidable hunter’s presence. Gascoigne laughed maniacally, burying his axe in the heads of the beasts that had been trampled by the others. 
“Oh, Gascoigne!” Xandr shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth. “I’d like to introduce you to more hunters!” Xandr stood waiting with the other hunters while Gascoigne sprinted back to them, talking and laughing good-naturedly. Gascoigne in the Hunter’s Nightmare was like a child let loose in a candy shop. 
“Gascoigne, this is Vladimir and Dmitri,” Xandr said, motioning to his right and left. Gascoigne shook their hands, saying the customary “how do you do.” He honestly couldn’t tell one hunter apart from another except by their voices and the different colored masks they wore. Xandr had the youngest voice of them all so far and his shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. He walked with the swagger of youth, brandishing his beast cutter like it was nobody’s business. He was friendly, high-spirited, his dark eyes full of fire and passion. He had taken an instant liking to Gascoigne and vice versa but Gascoigne didn’t want to show it—not yet. 
They continued onwards, Xandr making more introductions, Gascoigne shaking hands and trying to remember names and faces. “I honestly don’t know how I’m going to remember all of these hunters’ names,” Gascoigne said, taking off his hat and fidgeting with it nervously. 
“Just as long as you remember my name…” Xandr said, looking at Gascoigne from the corner of his eye. 
“You’ll have to do something to make yourself unforgettable…” Gascoigne replied, his voice low. 
“I think I can manage that…” was the husky response from the young blood-drunk hunter. His hand went to his shirt when Gascoigne wasn’t looking, undoing yet another fastening. 
“Where are we going? I’ll never find my way back,” Gascoigne asked as they approached a sleepy looking fishing hamlet. He realized that he had not been paying attention to the different areas that they had passed through to make mental notes of landmarks. 
“Find your way back to what, my good man? You’re stuck here,” Xandr retorted, chuckling softly.
“Oh, that’s right… I forgot…” Gascoigne said distractedly, forgetting that he was supposed to sound like he was lost and terrified. He was too preoccupied with looking at Xandr’s chest, which was dangerously revealed in the soft breeze that made his shirt flutter gently—the younger hunter had a small ring in his left nipple and a tattoo that was partially visible. 
“Wonderful view, isn’t it?” Xandr asked softly, looking straight ahead. Gascoigne’s bandaged eyes were aimed directly at his chest. 
Gascoigne was completely unaware that he was ogling Xandr and had no clue as to what view he was referring to except his chest. 
“It’s beauti—” Gascoigne started to reply but was interrupted when Xandr suddenly pulled him close so that he would avoid walking straight into a lamppost. 
“It-it’s beautiful…” Gascoigne said awkwardly, making a sweeping gesture with his hand to show how enchanting the eerie hamlet was. 
Xandr laughed quietly, slowly taking off his mask, grinning like he knew something that Gascoigne didn’t. “Why don’t you just tell me why you’re here? You’re obviously looking for someone or something but you don’t know where to go. Maybe I can help.” 
“I’m not looking for anyone. I’m completely lost. I don’t even remember the events leading up to how I got here,” Gascoigne lied, not wanting to reveal his real purpose for being in the Nightmare to someone he had met that same day. It was the unfortunate truth that so many hunters were traitorous and would stab someone in the back merely for personal amusement. 
“All right, suit yourself…” Xandr said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I assure you, I’m not the guardian of this place, so whenever you want to tell me—oh, looks like we have company.” Xandr suddenly shot at some fiery urns in the distance, from whence an enormous fishlike creature came charging at them. 
“What the fuck is that?” Gascoigne asked, extending his axe and cocking his pistol. He had never seen something so ugly. 
“It’s just a shark giant. Nothing we can’t handle,” Xandr said casually just before running up to the hideous thing and shooting it in the face just before it would have attacked him. It immediately sank to one knee, allowing Xandr to counter it, making it fall backwards. Gascoigne took the opportunity to slash at its legs with his axe as soon as it got back up and Xandr whipped its ass with his beast cutter. It roared with rage, attempting to hit them but they both dodged and sidestepped its attacks. Xandr lashed at the ground in a taunting manner, his face and clothes covered in blood. Gascoigne scraped his axe blade against the ground, grinning mischievously at the shark giant. When it rushed them again, Gascoigne stepped to the side, upper cutting it in the jaw. It gave one last roar of pain before it sank to the ground, convulsing sporadically. 
“Now that had to have hurt,” Xandr said, cringing and cradling his own jaw as they walked towards the flopping creature. Gascoigne buried his axe in the shark giant’s head with finality, then removed it with a sickening squelching sound. 
“That was fun,” Gascoigne said, putting his pistol in a sling on his hip while holding his axe with one hand. He tried wiping off some blood from his face but only smeared it across his cheek. 
“Well, there may be more of them so be on your guard,” Xandr said with a chuckle, motioning for them to keep walking. When they arrived at a cliff that overlooked the sea, they sat down on the grass with a space of a few feet between them. Gascoigne set his axe down between them, then clasped his hands around his knee, leaving his other leg stretched out in front of him. Xandr put his beast cutter on top of Gascoigne’s axe then reclined back on his hands, bending one of his legs at the knee slightly. They sat in silence for a while, the unusual light of the possessed moon suffusing the coast in a haunting manner. Gascoigne took a small object out of a hidden pocket in one of the layers of his outfit, holding it so that the moon was reflected on its surface. When the surface of the object turned deep red, he put it back in the hidden pocket stealthily, making sure that Xandr hadn’t seen him.   
Xandr sidled closer to Gascoigne, then reclined back again, making sure that Gascoigne had a good view of his chest. “Every time I come here, I think about the havoc I would wreak if I ever got out of this Nightmare,” Xandr started to say softly, tapping his beast cutter gently on the ground. “I came to Yharnam when I was twenty-four. It was either Yharnam or the gallows, since whoever remained of the Barbary pirates were hounded like dogs—” 
“You were a pirate? A Barbary pirate?” Gascoigne asked, admiration and incredulity in his voice. If it were true, then it meant that Xandr was at least ninety years old. 
“Yessir,” Xandr said cheerfully, rolling up the sleeve on his right arm to expose the tattoos on his wrist and forearm. “I’ve also got the scars to prove it,” he continued, undoing the rest of the fastenings on his shirt and opening it. There were a few scars on the right side of his chest and then one going from underneath the left side of his ribcage down to his pelvic bone. “I got this one during a fight with a man’s lover—another man, that is,” he explained while pointing to the long scar. “I was almost gutted like a fish for love then I realized it was only lust when I slit the bastard’s throat from ear to ear,” he finished by laughing, partially closing his shirt. 
Gascoigne laughed but Xandr could tell it was forced. He suspected that the tall hunter was sensitive about such things as love.  
“So, what’s your story?” Xandr asked after their laughter died down, sitting up straight and turning his body so that he was facing Gascoigne. 
“I was a priest in Ireland and…” Gascoigne paused, thinking about whether he should tell Xandr the truth. “… I came to Yharnam, not under the same exact circumstances as you but similar… in that I too was hounded… I was carrying on with another priest…” Gascoigne ran his fingers through the white hairs on his chin, biting his lower lip when he thought about the reaction that the younger hunter might have. 
“… When the townspeople found out about us, he was caught and strung up by the balls… I barely escaped with my life and the clothes on my back,” Gascoigne said softly, looking away from Xandr as though to avoid making eye contact with him. 
“I’m sorry” Xandr said quietly, touching Gascoigne’s hand lightly. 
“I was responsible for the death of someone else. Why are you sorry?” Gascoigne replied harshly, getting up to his feet quickly. He picked up his axe and started to walk back into the heart of the hamlet, leaving Xandr to get up hastily as well and grab his beast cutter in one swift motion. 
“Well, what should I have said? That it would have been better for you to be killed? To me, it sounds like you never forgave yourself for what happened,” Xandr said as he tried to keep up with Gascoigne. 
Gascoigne suddenly stopped walking, turning slowly to look at Xandr. Had everything that he had ever done lead up to this point, to be told by a Barbary pirate that he needs to forgive himself? And, of all places, in the Hunter’s Nightmare? 
“You’re right…” Gascoigne said softly, touching Xandr on the shoulder. “I do need to forgive myself… I’m sorry I snapped at you back there, it was uncouth of me—” 
Gascoigne was cut off by Xandr pressing his lips to his, their mouths parting, their tongues colliding together. Xandr moaned, pressing his body against Gascoigne, the kiss intensifying. Their weapons clattered with one another as their arms went around each other, both of them starting to struggle for breath. 
Their mouths only separated because their heads were spinning from a lack of oxygen and even if it weren’t for that, they would have continued kissing. However, they heard some noises not too far in the distance so it was best if they continued elsewhere. 
“Do you want us to go see what that is?” Xandr asked breathlessly, putting his hands on his knees. He let out a soft “woo” to indicate how intense the kiss was. 
“Not exactly,” Gascoigne replied, shaking his head. 
“All right, let’s get the hell out of here then,” Xandr said as he straightened up, resting his beast cutter on his shoulder. They walked back together to the part of the Nightmare from where they started, the possessed moon watching them from the sky. 


 

 
 



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