⇀ graveyard.

@❛ jacob kiszka “good,” samuel words without much thought, too emotionally spent to give anything within this moment a second thought. “i hope they stick with you.” he murmurs, but it was more sincere than it was an attempt to do damage. he sincerely hopes that his brother is able to look at the happiest memories in order to remember who he was, because samuel was aware that anyone can find it. anyone can find themselves, if they desired to. but time, again, was the answer. and time is what he would grant his brother, unaware of what other purpose he had on this planet. in fact, if he wouldn’t have been a member of the two attacking himself and amelia, he would’ve begged for mercy, for them to take him, too. “and i hope they can help you heal. she would’ve wanted that.”

his final words are hushed, though relief is sent down a wave off of his shoulders and down his back. he would have her back, and he would bury her properly, just as she would’ve wanted. and if it weren’t to happen, with the way his brother is before him now, he would have no issue locating him and giving the alpha his direct location himself— at least that’s what he believes now. but over time, it wouldn’t remain the same.

his body freezes in place as his name is called, eyes coming to a close. he wouldn’t get his hopes up, and it’s a good thing he didn’t do so, for it would’ve been shattered all over again. he remains staring ahead when spoken to, jaw clenching tighter than before, before disappearing into the forest ahead.

@❛ sam kiszka he opted to ignore his brother’s distaste for his reaction to their reunion. of course, he /wanted/ to say and do those things, but it would make no difference. if he hugged him, when the embrace was broken Jake would still be a death dealer and Sam a lycan.

he was right about one thing, however. Jake couldn’t utter her name, not the name that he’d called playfully in the fields as he chased after her, or the name he’d whisper in her ear, groggy once he’d woken and found that the pair had fallen asleep against the thick trunk of a tree. though the marriage was arranged by their families, Jacob had already decided to love her. “I wish memories decayed so easily.” he answers simply. he was angry that Sam could even think that he would forget her, but he couldn’t force himself to say that, or confess the love he had for her. how fitting that he, the one that had promised her the moon, would be the one to take her life in the end.

the Lycan’s strength was impressive, and his countenance was pained, but determined. Jacob’s fangs dig into his bottom lip, but he holds the eye contact, though his eyes hold no reaction to his life being threatened by his own flesh and blood. “I will bring her back,” he mutters, only once he’s released, and allows his arms to glide beneath her, scooping her into his arms the very way he would’ve on their wedding night.

“Sam.” he calls out, as if he’d had a change of heart. he wished that he could do so, that he could beg his brother for forgiveness, collapse at his feet and sob, confess his sins. however, upon gaining the attention, his teeth grind before he finishes the thought. “Rip the body to pieces if you want them to believe it.”

@❛ jacob kiszka "i don't know, jacob. maybe a, wow, it's good to see you alive. or hey, i missed you. or i don't know, hug me, , I don't know. just... something." though understanding the point made by his brother, his teeth grit together and his hands fall within a vice grip of their own by his side. and though it takes a second, it processes and the grip lightens, followed by an audible exhale. it wasn't worth pondering over, he supposed, maybe time was what he needed. considering, with the events of the night, it's just what samuel would need to begin even considering mourning not only the loss of his longest companion, but also the loss of his brother. because this? this wasn't him.

his own eyes begin to glow in fury, hands remaining over amelia's body with brows knitting. "a corpse." he repeats, breathing out a scoff as the stinging of tears returns to his eyes. "you can't even say her name, you didn't happen to forget it, did you? unlike you, she's more than "a corpse" to me." but for some reason, he couldn't find it within his unbeaten heart to deny him, regardless of how tight his grip was on her. he was so frustrated, so much so that he couldn't even find the words to vocalize it properly. and frightened at that, instinctively shifting away from jacob as he leaned in closer. his tiers purse into a frown, jaw locked impossibly tight.

he can feel the linear pair of pearly whites expand into sharpened fangs, nails into claws as his hand roughly grasps at his brother's shirt, tugging him in with whatever strength he could find. he bears his fangs, tightening his grip on the fabric before speaking through his teeth. "you bring her back to me when you're done, or so help me god, i won't be the only one being mourned. that's a ing promise." his eyes are unwavering, despite the tears that fall from them, before he finally releases the male before standing up. "don't let anybody else touch her." he turns on his heels and leans down to gather the deceased death dealer, tossing his body over his shoulder.

"i don't even know you anymore."

@❛ sam kiszka “What would you prefer I say, Samuel?” the vampire inquires with a harshness much unlike anything he had ever said while he was alive. he was such a gentle soul back then, only stern when was necessary, always smiling. oh, how he’s fallen. “For six centuries I thought you were dead. I’ve mourned for you already, and if you find yourself this far from the city again, I will have to do so for a second time. Your very presence within five miles of this place is too much a risk, look at what’s happened already.”

the following admission of the lycans plans don’t surprise Jake. in fact, he was wondering what had taken them so long. /perhaps we deserve it/, he thinks, but he wouldn’t dare say that aloud. “The blood banks...” he trails off, shaking his head. “An attempt to starve and weaken us, I imagine.” allowing a scoff to pass by his lips, he nods. he didn’t have to ask Sam if he understood what that meant, because it was written all over his face. the lycan has just discovered his long, lost brother was a key component in the hundreds of years of oppression against his kind, the reason for so many funerals.

halting when Sam shields the corpse from him, Jake’s brows knit tighter together. “She’s dead, Sam. But you’re not, and in order to keep it that way, you need to let me take her. I can convince the elders that she was the only one, but we don’t have time to bicker over a corpse-“ he hisses, leaning closer to his brother, voice lowering as if they’re already not alone, even though it isn’t so. “Let go.”

@❛ jacob kiszka with a gaze so forcefully trained upon the male ahead of him, they stray from his visage and down to his just, running over the weapons glued to him like a second skin. he feels sick to his stomach, for the first time in centuries, and it hits him like a brick wall. this was who his brother was now: a murderer. regardless of whether it was his job or not, he'd taken the lives of sam's own kind, and there was a certain wall within his mind that wouldn't allow him to process the information. almost to protect himself from it.

a blood stained palm outstretches to silently retrieve the coat from his hand, and while he would've liked to wear it so that it'd bring him at least somewhat of a reminder of what jacob's warmth was like, that would have to wait. instead, he takes the sleeves and wraps them around his waist with teeth gnawing, no, practically shredding the flesh on the inside of his lower tier.

his words catch samuel by surprise, his gaze shifting towards the older male without a single movement of his head. it was almost like he was being taught a lesson in the old days, where he remained silent and still. but his brows knit together and with a faint stumble, he finds his footing. "that's it?" he voices out, eyes narrowing. "i've been looking for you for over six hundred years and all i get is, "you shouldn't have come this close to thornhill?"" stress is evident as the tips of his fingers sink within the roots of his strands, rummaging through the disheveled locks before pressing against the nape of his neck. "they're coming." he murmurs, regardless of how he felt within the moment.

"for retaliation. i came to warn you. they plan on hitting the blood banks, first. then one of you."

quite frankly, he didn't want to provide the person in front of him - who, sam is beginning to refuse to recognize as his own blood - with such information, but he couldn't stand here and keep secrets that could end up in his death. he'd already lost him once, he couldn't again. only does samuel begin to panic as the shorter male approaches amelia, immediately draping his arms protectively over her body. "no. you've taken enough already, jacob."

@❛ sam kiszka the vampire’s eyes follow the silver river over his brother’s skin, but what could he do to ease his pain? nothing, he decided. he wasn’t skilled in lycan aide, only in how to decimate the population. so he remains stagnant, staring at his kinsmen. slowly, his bloodied hands grip the leather coat, peeling it off to reveal his Death Dealer armor beneath it, a combination of leather and thick Kevlar. weapons specifically designed to end the life of one such as his brother are strapped to waist and outer thigh. he’s aware the sight of him must not be the easiest thing to stomach. he extends the coat out for his younger brother to cover up with. though Sam was taller, the tails were long enough to give him some sort of protection from the elements.

Sam’s words were heartbreaking, because Jacob comes to the abrupt realization that he had never stopped searching for him, even after all this time. meanwhile, Jake had so easily become driven by the need to enact vengeance upon a species that took everything from him, or so he thought. when, in reality, he could’ve searched for Sam, instead. would it have made a difference, or would they still be standing right here, in this very moment, on opposite sides of the war?

“You shouldn’t have come this close to Thornhill.” he warns, already detaching himself from the situation. he wanted to embrace his brother, to be a family again, but there was no way that was possible. centuries of training, of manipulation, had kept him a merciless lycan killing machine, and now he had to, somehow, wrap his mind around the fact that his brother was the one thing he loathed than anything else in this world. his only target. it was too much to ask one person to comprehend, so he doesn’t. he takes this newfound information into his mind, to be pushed to the back and only accessed when he needed it.

so many questions float around in the vampire’s mind, but he can push none to the tip of his tongue, regardless of the fact that he is aware they don’t have much time for a proper reunion. could Jacob even qualify for such? not the man he used to be, though he wore his face, he wondered if Sam could see through it, if he could sense the lack of humanity within his brother’s hollow figure.

he should’ve hugged his brother. he should’ve wrapped his arms around him and refused to let go, but he doesn’t move an inch in Sam’s direction, instead, he looks to Amelia’s corpse again. his strategic brain was already starting to work. without so much as another word to his brother, he approaches the body and kneels beside it, preparing to bring her into his arms.

@❛ jacob kiszka the calls of a sorrowed man are what could've been heard in the graveyard, coming from a man who'd spent the eternity of his life as, what one may consider, "strong". quite frankly, samuel was everything that amelia despised in a man: flakey, inconsistent, lacked communication skills and failed to express his emotions. none of it was intentional, nor something he worked towards, but more so an onset of ways he'd changed. in his younger days, samuel was everything different than what he was now, granted, even he couldn't remember what his life was like clearly.

the sudden outburst of emotions were centuries worth of them, a reflection of his younger days where he wasn't very afraid to express how he felt. there was no one here to judge him, and he most likely would be a replica of her body in a mere few seconds. or. . so he thought. but those thoughts are proven differently as his ears are filled with a newfound piece of orchestrated music, one that would comfort him throughout his heartbreak as a child, or laugh as he'd tripped him up the stairs.

"jacob....?"

a whisper within his own misery, samuel couldn't make out his own words. instead, his body flinches in response to each and every shot fired, arms instinctively holding the body within his arms tighter to him, as if any form of protection would save her. but she's already gone. her body is released suddenly, the skim of the silver bullet enough to momentarily shock his body before he finds his ground once more, emitting a faint hiss as his palm presses against it. the silver trickles down his spine like an abstract painting, creating a piece that would be found in museums, where people would stand and think, "how is this in a museum when it's not even good? or too easy? i could do this."

the initial shock of the possibility that he'd found his brother seemed to have dissipated, but he was once again proven wrong. his breathing picks up again, but not because he wanted to have a second meltdown following suit the first one, but because this is what he had put his entire life towards. call it brotherly instinct, or recognize the evidence that lacked of an attack on his older brother -- regardless, he's proven himself right. he's following the exchange between the two closely, ends of his strands clung upon his visage where tears had left a trail behind. the back of his palm swipes beneath his eyes as his stomach twists: could he even stomach seeing his brother again?

crying wasn't the most ideal reunion, especially doing so without a hint of clothing on his countenance, but it doesn't matter the minute his own name rings through the voice he'd missed so much. samuel's eyes fall to a close, as if readying himself for this moment. would it be worth it? all of the pain, losing his closest friend, even? the answer is clear when he opens his eyes to meet the vampire's own, staring /hard/ with brows furrowed. "brother," he whispers, and his eyes overlook the entity before him. there was no difference whatsoever, as if nothing had changed, when in fact, everything had.

but there's one thing, and it didn't take long for the younger male to notice, either. he felt. . colder, more distant. and as his eyes trail to the two bodies around them, he swallows. "y...ou," his eyes squeeze shut again, as if wishing they weren't meeting like this, before opening again.

"i always knew you were out there."

@❛ sam kiszka the name. Amelia. it shakes Jacob’s entire world. if that weren’t enough, the voice that called it sent the very fabric of his mind into a rapid deterioration. his brother. Sammy. memories far removed, locked deep within the dungeon of his mind flood the surface. he freezes, something he’s never done before a lycan in his six hundred plus years as a Death Dealer, eyes wide as he takes in the scene.

this wasn’t happening. it couldn’t be. he prayed for this to be another fractured piece of his mind, tainted from the torture, that he was still in his bed with Selena and Hana seated on either side. that when he woke up, he would see them both, the closest he would ever get to sunrise again, to warmth ever again. however, he knew this was all /too/ real. he was staring at his brother and his now decapitated fiancée, and they were the one thing he’d spent his life destroying.

“No,” he muttered, as if denying the scene would make it disappear. “No, you’re not here.” /get out of my head, please./ he begs the apparitions to fade. /you’re dead, Sam. you’re dead. you’re not here, just please go away./ though the visage before him was that of carnage, he stared into Amelia’s now lifeless eyes. the life he’d taken from her. so many memories flashed before his own, including the countless hours they spent talking about their wedding. how he promised he would make a good husband, and father to their children.

his insides knot up, and he feels he has to plant his feet more firmly against the ground lest he crumble right alongside his younger brother, whose countenance he now takes in. not a single difference to be found. the younger Kiszka weeps for their mutual loss, but not even a single tear threatens to fall from Jacob’s eye. had he been so conditioned to death that not even witnessing his brother’s heartbreak, nor his betrothed’s gruesome murder, could sway him to shed a single ounce of sympathy? he felt plenty of pain, so why couldn’t he collapse on the ground, hug his brother, and beg for forgiveness? why was he caught in an internal battle with himself: Jacob Kiszka, the son, the brother and Jake, the Death Dealer who exists only to quench the elder vampires’ bloodlust?

he had no time to ponder the mental inquiry, as he hears the reload, and crouches low behind Samuel on one knee, shielding his brother as silver nitrate bullets whizz through the air, all but one embedding in his ribs and lower abdomen. a guttural grunt of the recognition of pain is all that leaves his lips, before he stands up straight to face the Death Dealer that now seems baffled.

“What the /hell/ are you doing?”

taking a step closer, he’s the only thing standing between a completely vulnerable Sam and certain death. “This one lives.”

his companion scoffs. “Oh, I don’t ing think so, Kiszka. I’m gonna slaughter this dog, with or without you.”

“He’s my brother.” he states, stoic with brows knit together. his strides are sudden, meeting the other’s until they come to an impasse, only steps away from the slain female and the sobbing male. “You can turn now, go back to the manor, and swear you never saw this one. That you and I never had this conversation, and you can continue to exist. If you insist, however, on pursuing his death, you will be met with your own at my hand.”

the other vampire bares his fangs, to which Jacob reciprocates, his hiss drowning out the other’s. “The dog dies. And you will meet the sun when the elders hear of this.” Jacob doesn’t move at first, as the vampire sidesteps him to approach the fallen lycan, but instead he stares straight ahead, already resolved in what he has to do.

his next moves are too abrupt to be seen by the human eye, to such, he is a raven blur against the night. his hand reaches back, retrieving the sword from the sheath on his companion’s back. he doesn’t have to even turn around, tightening his grip on the handle of the weapon he draws it, flips it around so that the blade is angled precise, and drives it through the vampire’s dead heart. he only releases it when he feels the muscles of the deceased immortal loosen, and allows him to collapse on the earth beside his brother.

only now does he turn around, reluctant and frightened to face Samuel after all these years. would he even recognize his brother? or would he only see a killer? a monster. “Sam,” he starts. though he’s terrified, his voice is flat, not even a shiver. he glances to Amelia, clutched tightly in his brother’s arms. once again, his tone lacks emotion, and instead sounds as if he is reciting written word. “I didn’t know.”

@❛ jacob kiszka They had to be around here, they had to be -- being one of the older Lycan's of the clan, Samuel's senses barely failed him, and it was rare to be mislead by them. But this circumstance, perhaps, may have been the first. No, it couldn't be. His brows furrow, wolf-like visage feigning a look of complete confusion. Only when he turns his head over his shoulder to overlook his female companion does his claws dig deep within the ground to halt his entire movement. It's not smooth, however, and his body meets the ground in a rough roll before he finds his footing once more.

The (unknown to Samuel,) planned attack was initially the least of his worries, but now completely overtook whatever senses were hovering at bay, one immediate one being guilt. He'd brought them into this like a fool, and this was his consequence. His posture is straightened onto his hind legs, ones that stumble as the unfamiliar vampire repetitively steps within his direction. He didn't want to kill him, Samuel never wanted to kill anyone, but it would be greatly considered if necessary. This was one of those times.

Grateful for his quickened senses, which seemed to improve over time, he's able to dodge every single bullet shot at him, eyes frantically looking towards his companion in panic. Fight, fight harder, he finds himself silently encouraging, pleading with his eyes. He couldn't lose her, too. He's too focused on attempting to get to her to even focus on saving himself, leaving him within a helpless and defenseless state. His words and pleas articulate in forms of growls and howls, ones that echo in the midst of the bullets being shot at him. With fangs bared he daringly advances towards the smaller male before him, but it's the final whimper of Amelia that completely stops him. The moment of her collapse, double at that, was the end of whatever there was left for Samuel. His world is once again tainted by the selfishness of a species that needed to be better than whatever else there was out there, one quite literally heartless.

One thing that's close to being articulated is the petrifying, spine-chilling scream that emits through his tiers, eyes widened as he towers over however many vampires there were surrounding him. He's aware that his next decision may end his life, but at this point, he no longer cared for it. "Amelia!" The pads of his feet hit the ground as his taller figure finds form once more, bare as he slumps down at her side. "No, no no no no, Please," He grasps at her torso, first by her biceps with a faint shake, then even at her decapitated head within the pool of crimson finding shape beneath his feet. The ends of his hair tickle between his shoulders as his palms press against her cheeks, rejoining her head to her body as if it would work as a bandaid, as if she would come back. "You're all I have, please," The male vocalizes, this time a little louder, before finally succumbing to the torturous lump in his throat, choked sobs messily leaving parted tiers as he hugs her to his chest.

@❛ sam kiszka the vampire was staring down at his hands, watching rubies drip from his palms. his eyes illuminated more than they were before, almost akin to gold when struck with the blinding rays of the sun. he knew the smell would draw them back around, and that is precisely why he’d wrapped it so tightly, for he was the only one that could be both bait and executioner simultaneously. his needle-like fangs graze his bottom lip, jutting out from the confines of the cavern when he hears them circle back. within a few moments, they were prowling the graveyard, just beneath him.

now was the time to strike, the very second the smaller wolf crept just below the mausoleum. closing his eyes once more, he takes the step off of the roof as if he were expecting the air to support his weight, without a second thought. the leather of his trench coat catches the wind as he glides downward, giving him the appearance of tattered, leather wings for a split second, before his combat boots land heavy on the earth behind the lycan.

his eyes open, countenance void of any emotion whatsoever, but his arms hook around the lycan’s throat from behind, bringing the silver wire to burn through fur and flesh. pressing one boot against the shoulder blade, and the other planted firmly in the soil, his forearms hook upwards, digging the razor wire into it’s throat.

the shots are distant in Jacob’s mind, as he knew they would come. his fellow Death Dealer firing two silver nitrate bullets at the larger beast in order to keep it from attacking Jacob while he was locked in a battle of strength with the puny one. he doesn’t see whether or not the bullets connect, however, for he is too concerned with the sound of slicing through bone and skin, and the waterfall of carmine that follows the separation of the Lycan’s head from it’s shoulders. the dull thud of it hitting the ground silent in comparison to the massive body collapsing.

dealt with, and the lycan never saw it coming. spinning on his heels, the bloody wire broken and embedded in the stump that was once the neck of a beast, he faces the new threat, a much larger, stronger-looking wolf that towers over him. he doesn’t allow his eyes to wander from the opponent, though his hand reaches for his own pistol, with a clip full of lycan poison.

@❛ jacob kiszka There was one easy way to explain Samuel within this one, single moment: tunnel vision. His eyesight is tainted a deep red with each hunched over step taken forward, faint growls searing from his over-salivating mouth as if to keep in contact with Amelia; to repetitively make sure she was following suit if not at his side, to ensure that she agreed on whichever way they were going, to hear her thoughts about the entire thing, even. Samuel's claws dig deep into the earth beneath him with each step taken forward, eyes narrowing with a faint, yet determined huff.

If he were to be honest, he didn't even know where to start. Since moving into the city, he'd done everything in his power to keep his distance from the species, fully aware of what they were capable of, and also aware that their entire goal was to wipe out the entire population of Lycan's. It didn't make sense to him, though. Why couldn't they live peacefully? Why did it have to be rivalry? Why did they randomly kill? The incident from the night before made sense, it was self defense after all, but killing out of random spite? His head to the side as they continue forward, pondering over what his brother may be like. Was his hair still as long as it was before? Does he properly wash it now? Is he still as warm as he was when he embraced his younger brother?

If he had a heart, it'd practically jump through his throat. Samuel's entirety comes to a screeching halt as his head tilts upwards, sniffing the air for the newfound scent of blood. It wouldn't have been a smart idea to entertain the idea of looking into it, but as his eyes connect with his companion, her head nods and that's all the reassurance he needed. He just ... he needed to make sure. Be positive. So his body turns around, leading the two back into the graveyard and hurrying towards the scent, one that was building somewhat of a feeling of familiarity within his gut.

@❛ sam kiszka “It feels real good to have you back,” the fellow Death Dealer’s southern drawl breaks the silence between the two as they skulk the graveyard, the rustling of the tails of his leather coat as it flaps against the wind and smacks the backs of his knees, hugged by the same inky fabric. he doesn’t answer right away, taking a few steps forward, he stoops low by a tombstone, resting a hand atop it. fallen soldiers, this entire row. there was something ironic about the way he paid respects; he, who deserved to die centuries ago, paying homage to those who were taken before their clock had run out.

“No more stupid decisions, all right?” this time, Jacob does turn to look at his companion, a curt nod to signify that he has, in fact, heard him speak. he was healed, for the most part, and just in time. it seems as though there had been lycan spottings all over the city. so, regardless of whether or not he was at peak performance, his expertise was required.

“Keep your lips sealed and your head on a swivel, and if you see or hear anything related to the lycans, then speak. However, if you do not, I suggest you remain silent or our upper hand is completely useless.” he snaps, brows furrowing. he didn’t feel like discussing the trial, and had spent the last two days with Selena and Hana repairing his fractured mind and broken bones. there was no need to bring it up anymore. the fellow assassin nods his head, lips pursed as if he were disappointed that Jacob had no intention of playing the brotherly bonding cliche with him. when had he ever shown anything but loyalty to them? never once had he offered them brotherhood, or friendship, but a strategic and ruthless talent of bloodletting.

however, as soon as the graveyard fell silent, they both heard it. the heavy pounding of paws against the solid, damp earth. “Two,” Jacob whispers, differentiating the pairs of four via the varying weight distribution and the way the ground vibrates. he straightens, glancing around before his glowing eyes land on the mausoleum, a plan building before his very eyes. and just in time, too, for the lycans were headed right for them. “All right,” he hisses, reaching to rip the silver wire from his belt. “Stay here. I’ll take the smaller one by surprise and we’ll subjugate the big one after.” turning on his heels, he’s only about to camouflage himself when he notices his companion’s hand twitch. his lip curls into a fierce, authoritative snarl, baring his teeth. “And for god’s sakes, don’t /ing/ miss your shot, or we’re both dead.” with that, the coattails flap once more; he takes a step forward, springboarding off the ground and seeming to levitate mid air, the inhuman jump carrying him to the roof of the mausoleum. his heavy boots hit the surface, leather cascading around him as he slips behind the ornamental cross, large enough to shield him. pressing his back against it, he listens, counting the agonizing moments before they arrive, his hands working the wire until he’s got it tightly wrapped around each palm, cutting into his own hand, he creates a garrote.

he closes his eyes, allowing everything but one objective to melt from his mind: kill them both.

@❛ jacob kiszka If one were to have asked the Lycan what the last thing he heard within the meeting of his clan was, he certainly would've had to hope he could come up with believable bluff, for everything that came after the spoken name of his brother traveled completely over his head. Everything else was unimportant, for his mind was focused in on one single thing, the journey him and Amelia would take next to find his sibling. It couldn't be too hard .... right?

A vampire.

It was hard for Sam to wrap his mind around the fact that Jacob was a member of the kind that his own
were enemies with - that his job was to kill his own kind. He didn't know how to feel, but he was certain of one thing: this was his brother, and that conquered everything and everything.

It was the talk of possible retaliation that started getting into Samuel's head. He'd gotten so far, spent so many years in search of his brother, only for him to be taken away? No. He wouldn't allow it, even if it meant punishment from his own sire, the deathliest at that. As long as he could see his brother, embrace him, then he could die happily. He'd managed to sneak out of the arena with Amelia at his side the moment people started volunteering themselves for the plan, 135 pounds stumbling over twig-like legs. The transformation is immediate, and any type of clothing he was wearing prior to it followed behind him in a trail of shreds. Okay, so maybe it would've been a good idea to not travel to look for his vampire brother in this form, but it was worth to risk.

And worth calming the nerves of his underlying fear: what if he fled town? What if, once again, Samuel was too late? The thought brought a sting to his eyes as the different grounds of forest after forest within Arcani Heights met within the palm of his transformed hands and feet, quickening his speed with a howl, which is accompanied by that of Amelia's. Only shortly after, the cool surfaces of gravestones tickle his feet and he thinks to himself:

I'm finally coming, brother.