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The Carmine Song of Unsung Longing (request)

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Setting: Limsa-Lominsa, the docks


For ages untold, the Dark Ones prowled the streets of Ala Mihgo under the shadow of a weeping moon. They preyed upon the weak, the drunk, and the foolhardy, savoring every luscious, dripping bite with the delicacy of gourmands. They were the Ageless, the Cursed. The vampires of legend. That is, until the fall of the city-state. The Garleans destroyed utterly and without mercy. In a mercurial heartbeat, everything the Dark Ones knew beyond memory was gone. Their homes, their beloved, their precious food.


Among the rubble they crept, surviving pitifully off of rats and the few chocobo they could find still tethered in their ruined stalls. Until one day, Moonshadow Darkly, the velvet-skinned huntress, had a vision: a tunnel, shrouded in mist, leading from the ruins under the great continent itself and beyond the sea to a foggy port town. The initials L-L were burned into her mind. When she awoke, she gathered those that were wise enough to listen and together they found the tunnel and made the journey.


Now, half starved they have arrived in Limsa-Lominsa in the dead of night, their only light is a sliver of Menphina's ivory smile to guide them through the ebony sky as they prowl their new home and weave a new song in the verses of their people: the carmine song, of unsung longing.


RULES: Mary-Sues, superheroes, demons, demigods, villains, vamps, psychic prostitutes, were-animals of any kind, disembodied aetherytes, orphans, ghost pirates (no living pirates, please), flaming zombies (take that as you will), cyborg monks, and adorable pixies only please. Standard run-of-the-mill "Oooh look at me I scored a zero on the Mary Sue chart" characters need not apply. PM Aveline and/or Moonshadow Darkly if you are interested.

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Moonshadow Darkly ran a delicate sable hand through her silken, mussed hair and breathed in deeply the scents of the strange new city. Under starlight, like the rest of her kind, her skin glittered back in response, as if echoing a lover's sigh. Salt, wetness, stale beer... She exhaled then breathed in again. Flesh. Somewhere nearby, a drunken sailor was swilling back his last jug of spirits. Moonshadow grinned and the moonlight glinted off every perfect knife-blade in her mouth. Her violet eyes shimmered with bloodlust.


"Oh sailor," she murmured in candied poison tones, "you poor unfortunate wanderer. How much we have in common, and yet how unalike we are! Are you aware, how close your end is? Or do you welcome the eternal kiss of death nightly as you make monotonous love to your drink? Will you thank me, when the time comes, or will you hurl your foulest curses at my natural desires to your last breath?" She sighed plaintively and looked up at the sky. "Sailor, sailor... how far we two must have traveled in our time.. but as you so heartlessly wrenched fish from the bosom of the deep sea's embrace to sustain you 'til port, so must I become your monster, your delectable beast, to sustain me through mine own adventure."


The sailor stirred in his drunken stupor and Moonshadow licked her lips with anticipation. Yet her mind tethered the desires of her stomach and heart. Not yet.. the others have not yet arrived. Be still, be silent. Crouching low in the darkness, the huntress held her instincts back and awaited the arrival of her darkling kin.

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A sparklingly handsome man patrolled the dark streets of Limsa Lominsa. He kept a hand hidden within the sparkling coat that he wore to protect from the deathly chill of the water. His nose constantly twitched as he smalled the breezy air of the city, obviously on the hunt; but for what, no one knew. His slightly-odd nose picked up a hint of something familiar as he passed a drunken sailor. He figured it to be simply the stench of the sailor, as they should not be within the city.

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From her vantage point behind the dockside crates, Moonshadow Darkly, temptress of the night, gazed upon the man who glinted in the night like earthborn starlight.


Even from a distance, she could feel the cold power radiating from him. A hunter. Like herself. Only.. a hunter of what? He was no darkling prince. But his coat.. where did he get it? Ice and turpor filled her long-dead veins. It couldn't be.. no..


The more she thought of it, the more she knew it to be true. There was only one such skin that produced such a supple, sophisticated line to a trenchcoat like that. Only one such forlorn pelt that glinted back in unsung horror at the immovable sky above..


Moonshadow bit back a cry of rage and fingered a wicked moonsteel knife hanging at her belt.

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The misted alleyway parted like stage curtains revealing a slender figure masquerading in an assortment of poorly arranged garments of leather and chains. A dark crimson cloak fluttered silently about the young woman's ankles, ignorant to her proximity to certain death.


And it would not just be death to a single girl, but also the end to a glorious blood line. Yes, Raven Bludwyn, the last of the Bludwyns. Family slaughtered in their own beds. She took a moment to appear morose, wrapping her cloak more securely around her body, fending off some invisible draft composed of nightmarish memories.


Where in Eorzea was Crimson Von Sanguine? She was simply defenseless without his dependable protection. Raven did her best to appear vigilant, but could not help an apprehensive glance now and then over her dark shoulder.

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The click clack of the foot chills the sacred soul.

The click clack of the claw brings out a heavy toll.

Seeking the mortal vein, to satisfy the need.

Seeking the mortal vein upon which it must feed.


The wind steps aside to allow its shadowed guest,

The wind steps aside for those that do not rest.

The eye upon the night looks for a meal,

The eye upon the night taking a fate to seal.


The trusted one hidden wolf amongst the sheep,

The trusted one with the hunger that will reap.

So thus comes the feeder in the moon lite glow,

So thus comes the feeder, the vampire chocobo!



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The night... its sweet, haunting melody was one he knew far too well. Just like the the pair of trench-coats ,crafted from the skin of his quarry, that he wore layered over his slender form, he wore the darkness of the hour just as easily. He had been observing quietly, a key trait of any hunter, especially one so notorious for tracking and slaying his own kind: fellow children of the night, fellow dreamers of the dark dream. The obsidian pools that scanned the dock side held the same patience and cold calculative foresight from the immortals of legend, noting the target of this night.




Pale lips muttered silently, a whisper only the dead could hear "The contract... must be fulfilled. The prophecy... must be averted." What dark truths were hidden behind such cryptic utterances were only for him to know, a burden of the Sanguine bloodline.


His delicate porcelain features failed to hide the ice cold expression of a true hunter, a betrayal of his true darker self that only the moon would have the honor of seeing this night. He leaped down from his rooftop perch, the tails of his two trench-coats flapping in the wind like the wings of a thousand ravens, or a bakers dozen at the very least.


His perfect otherworldly form landed silently behind the Bludwyn girl, the only sound that would alert her of his presence would be the drawing of his obsidian-bladed scythe, a family heirloom with no equal, uttering a resounding metal 'clink' as he tapped the base against the ground.


"My lady, it is far too dangerous to be out at such an hour."


Dangerous for her perhaps, but for Crimson Von Sanguine, dangerous nights were an eternal companion.

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The man in the sparkling coat whipped about as he the blade drawn. He immediately knew the sound. Only the obsidian blade could make such a sound. His glowing eyes pierced the dark of the dock as his gaze fell upon the dark figures partially hidden behind the crates. How could this be? How are they here already? He produced a long, shimmering katana from beneath the glittering coat made from his victims. "Show yourselves, you vile creatures!" he shouted over the sounds of the deep night that enveloped them all.

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Moonshadow lifted her eternal gaze and twitched her ears at the sound of her beloved vocobo's unholy melody.


"Dread Lord Feathers! You made it!" In the obsidian shadows, the Miqo'te scratched the bird's iniquitous chin. "Softly now, Dread Lord. There are hunters that hunt those that hunt the hunted on the streets tonight. We would not want to spoil our arrival in this new land so quickly now, would we?"


She gave a sigh of mournful longing, her skin shimmering in empathy for her soul. Long she posed there by the docks before she heard the handsomely glittering man speak his hated words. Her eyes glowed briefly a deep murderous crimson as she stepped into the lantern light.


"I am here, hunter!" She cried harshly, unsheathing her blade. "And I have the fabled moonsteel dagger! The very same moonsteel dagger forged in the lamentable cries of the undying Ages, lost forever to this world in the Dimension of Eternal Torment. Passed down to me through twenty generations of Moonshadow Witch Queens! But I will not test my blade on your heart tonight, stranger! Menphina's light is not at its peak and this is no fortunate night for bloodshed."


So saying, Darkly slipped into the shadows with nary a sound and was gone from sight. There would be time enough to do battle with the nemeses of her kind. For now she must scout out a safe lair for her and her kin, and also find some leggier and less sensible boots.

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The vocobo heard its prey down the windy ways of the city street.

Its hunger and power upon light wing speed it swiftly on it feet.

His master called upon his soul and answered he set out,

he came upon his beloved queen and gave a mighty shout.




But a caution told him to stay still, to quiet his devoted cry,

and slip away into the night spread his wings as if to fly.

But as his master spoke the challenge grand, upon the hunter green,

he belched a fiery tribute at his face, and promptly fled the scene.



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Bludwyn. The name slowly escaped his lips, an unintentional vocalization escaping into the moonlit night. The shadows warped and morphed, the figure of a young man escaping their dark embrace. Dull, dark tones filled his form revealing steel grey hair lying beneath a top hat that continued to hold the color of the shadow world it once inhabited. A scarf and large trench coat concealed his pale skin. His crimson eyes, filled with death, blood, and longing, pierced through the darkness, fixing themselves upon the fragile shape of the last of the Bludwyn clan.


A shock of pain coursed through his icy veins. He fell to one knee and clenched his cold, dead heart. He spoke quietly to himself as he writhed in pain. "Though my heart knows life no longer, it still yet burns with a passion more intense than Nald'thal's flames! A mortal curse of longing, one I am to bear eternally until this lifeless body of mine knows the world no longer! Oh sweet Bludwyn, I am forever bound to watch at a distance, never to know your delicate embrace!". A single tear, stained red, fell upon the ground.


The sound of fluttering ravens suddenly filled his ears. He knew the sound. The sound of twin trench coats rustling against the blade of an obsidian scythe. "Von Sanguine!". Anger filled his voice, nay his entire existence at the familiar presence. He reached into his trench coat and firmly grabbed the hilt of a thin blade. He pulled it from its sheathe, letting it bathe in the moon's light. The Darkmoon blade seemed to reflect no light, its being dark and lifeless much like the heart and soul of its wielder. "Come now Eclipse. Tonight is the night we shall finally taste the blood of the traitor." He moved quickly, seemingly warping from his point of origin to his destination. He reappeared midway between von Sanguine and Bludwyn, a shower of raven feathers flying into the air and immediately bursting into black flame as he did so. He tilted his top hat back slightly, affixing his gaze upon his foe. A vengeful smirk filled his pale face, shielding his internal turmoil and despair. "Menphina's light smiles upon our meeting tonight von Sanguine and before her gaze you shall finally meet your end."

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The night embraced the Baroness Midnight Nightingale like a warm blanket on a cold night. She cavorted along its trails and alleys, the very picture of apathy, as the shadows around her danced in the pale moonlight. It was a rare treat indeed for something to amuse her after so many centuries of these late night meanderings. People still swarmed around the cities like insects, writhing between buildings going to and fro on some business with the most dire of urgency. If they had any real awareness of how little time they truly had, would they still waste their time with such nonsense? Fools.


The Baroness looked up beneath the shadowy hood of her cloak, piercing dark eyes observing every minute detail of the environment, sponging it all in and searching for something new, something different, anything. Tonight though, something piqued the corners of her lips to curl up in a slight grin. Perhaps it was a familiar voice she had heard calling out from the next street over. Or perhaps it was the name that voice had spoken.


Grasping the hood of her cloak with crimson-painted fingertips, she threw it back and tucked several strands of raven-colored hair behind one of her pale ears. Hearing nothing further after a few seconds, she tugged her hood back up and continued in the direction of the voice. Maybe it would be an eventful night after all...

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Raven started, but instantly cooled to the comforting baratone of Sanguine. A creature whose name could rend a man clear in two, but whom only brought her peace.


"Aye, I apologize sire. I merely wished to set my eyes upon this new land. I'm...so far from home."


It was certainly a sight greater than four crooked peeling walls and a damp deck, and her deep mournful eyes drank it in. She had been starved of fresh air for what felt like millennia. An inhuman thirst for change comparable only to the thirst her companion must suffer. A thirst that could never be sated. But oh she daren't complain about their poor lodgings, for she owed the man her life. Breathing deeply of her surroundings, lungs to full capacity. Ash, decay, and the effervescent scent of distress. It crackled through the atmosphere, and burned her throat and behind her eyes. A storm was approaching.


Perhaps she shouldn't have wandered off.


Clutching a palid hand loosely beneath her throat Raven caressed a silvery crescent shaped blemish. Cursed, no doubt, for what could leave a scar so clean and that shined so brightly against her milky skin? A souvenir from that fateful evening, an evening just like this. Lost for a moment, despondent with a skull full of homesickness for a family long gone, she did not notice the sudden and unexpected apperance of the aberrant man.


An ethereal vapor swam powerfuly against her legs bringing along on its thick current an opaque swarm of lurid feathers. Raven shut her eyes to the onslaught, anxiously crying out the name of her protector.

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