Attire Bloodborne Novels & Stories

"Why did I keep going to this dumb hunt?" she asked. Aric questioned himself while taking another sip from his cup of spiced blood. When he looked around the room at the happy expressions on the other vampires' faces, he couldn't help but let out a sigh. He shook his head in disgust as he pushed a stray lock of his blonde hair out of his face and pushed it back behind his ear. Some hunters appeared to be dressed in the style of safari hunters from the human era, while others wore camouflage, and yet others wore shredded flannel shirts, jeans, and hiking boots. All of the hunters appeared to be in an absurd state of attire.

Amber's accusatory call did not even have time to come through when another visitor arrived at my door. Tara entered in a pink suit, clutching a pearl handbag. She was still every inch the pampered socialite. "What are you doing back here? Did you come to watch me fall apart?" "Innocent, Your Honor. I haven't done a thing." Tara's grip tightened on her handbag as she barely contained her anger, but I did not take her too seriously. I knew her personality well enough not to go too far. Besides, from the looks of things, her life had not been going too well lately, either.

He covered me in the fabric and took me in his arms carefully. I looked around. All the males are now in their human forms and are wearing shorts, while all the females are wearing long t-shirts. Everyone is covered in blood, but none of them are injured... {the magic of werewolf healing} ... I can see many corpses of rogues littering all around but could not point to a single vampire's body. Matt took me to the infirmary, and a doctor came rushing toward me "she is covered in silver," he warned her, and she stopped instantly.

Blood gradually dripped out from where his restraints cut into his skin, and as she made his desperate attempts to twist body around and yank himself out of his bindings, trying his hardest to pull his body upwards and away, Gretel immediately noticed the long, sharp lines of red that oozed out even more blood, the wounds travelling upwards across his torso and onto his chest and his clothes, grey like her own and everybody else from Gryaz in the room. The fabric around his body clung onto him like a limpet to a rock to the point that it was almost a second skin, glued in place by the sweat, tears, blood, and mucus, the blood pouring out and staining the grey a deep, deep crimson - the colou

Most men of Bloodrayne walked around shirtless or in sleeveless attire, even in winter, showing off their tattoos. From chest to arms, backs to necks, the patterns and shapes were varied, but they were all done in black. The she-wolves also bore markings, but mostly only on their upper arms. And theirs could be of any color. In the Denver area, the Bloodrayne pack was a menace and a scourge. It was the eradication of this group that Corien had been reviewing in Dax’s office when Marian had returned the day before.

He held his silver-coated machete loosely at his side, the blade dripping black golem ichor onto the expensive rug. Tate was next. She looked small between us, drenched to the bone, her hair plastered to her skull. But she held the Kyanite Heart against her chest like it was a grenade she was waiting to throw. And then... me. I walked in last. My suit...charcoal grey Italian silk, tailored to perfection...was ruined. It was stiff, soaked heavy with a dark, viscous red. It wasn't my blood. It was the blood of the twelve men I had dismembered in the crypt. It painted my hands like gloves. It splattered my white collar. It dried in flaking crusts on my cheekbones.

She skims through the dusty, yellow papers while I observe her Rin silence. When she finds the page she was searching for she gestures for me to come over. “I think she was attacked by one of the Band of Blood. They are known for having received gifts from the Sun God himself. If I am correct the fog still festers in her blood. You marking her didn’t exactly help, it weakened her already fragile state. We need to clean her blood thoroughly, until there is nothing left of the fog.” She says.

But now she looked like a storm had ripped straight through her. Her white doctor’s attire was soaked through with blood. Dark crimson stains spread across the fabric from collar to hem, some of it dried in stiff patches while other parts were still wet. Her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing trembling hands smeared with blood. Damp strands of blonde hair had escaped her braid and clung to her sweaty forehead, and her chest rose and fell with exhausted, uneven breaths. Her eyes landed on me. Relief flickered there, but it was quickly swallowed by panic.

Luciana breathed out in relief, ignoring the looks she was getting from her roommates. She began to ponder upon what she had learnt from the library. She learnt that almost all supernatural creatures have classes, depending on how pure their blood was. She also learnt that over the years, the royals have preserved their pure blood by only breeding with people with pure blood too. They also strengthen themselves by drinking blood from other creatures, most especially the sirens.

He puts lids on them and straws and then holds the cup out to me and says, “You’re welcome to it, if you want it.” I’m hesitant, but my grumbling tummy doesn’t give me much of an option. As I take the cup from his hands, my fingers brush against his and I’m alarmed by how cold they are. It felt colder than ice and I wish I could hold his hands and warm them up in mine. He tells me, “We get the blood from blood drives or animals we’ve caught in the forest. We try hard not to have to drink from tap. Especially with humans, although, some of us has more restraint than others.” He rolls his eyes with that last sentence and I can’t help but wonder what he means by that. Who has less restraint? I