"Something Good" for LEESERS
Title: Something Good
Form: Fanfiction
For: leesers
Prompt: SH3: Vincent/Heather
The gash on the back of Heather's left calf was deep and long, fresh blood pulsating out of it with each limping step that she took. One of those demon hounds-- if you could even call them dogs-- had gotten her by surprise as she’d turned a corner a ways back. She hadn't been quick enough to stop it from biting and scratching, but she had at least been able to keep it from ripping her leg clean off. It had been the only monster around, thankfully, but Heather had realized soon after that she was out of health drinks and first aid kits.
The girl sighed, stopping briefly to lean against a rust-covered wall. This wasn't good; she was steadily losing blood, and even if there were no monsters in sight, they would probably soon flock towards the smell of an open wound. It hurt to put pressure on it, but she knew she had to keep moving forward. She seriously doubted her chances of survival would be high if she were to drop into a faint in the open hallway.
She pushed herself back off the wall, continuing on her way through the rotted building. She began looking for some place to rest, and perhaps find something she could use to deal with her injury. Noticing a line of doors on the wall across from her, she made her way over and tried one at random, opening it slowly; she heard a groan from inside, and shuffling, and shut it again without a second thought. She wasn't going to risk it in this condition.
Heather stepped into the next door that opened for her, surveying her surroundings quickly; the lights were already on, and the room seemed well kept, at least compared to most of the others. When no growls met her on the way in, she closed the door behind her, leaning back against it.
"Shit..." she groaned to herself, shifting her weight onto her right leg; now that she gotten out of immediate danger, she was very quickly becoming more aware of the pain. She shakily lifted a hand to push her bangs out of her eyes, wiping the sweat from her forehead in the process. Tears rose into the corners of her eyes, but she fought them back; she couldn't start crying now. She had to be strong and alert, find something to fix her injuries, and continue moving through this God-forsaken--
"Who's there?"
The blond snapped her head up, glancing quickly around the room. She thought she recognized the voice, an assumption that was confirmed when the person walked in from an adjoining room she had failed to notice earlier.
"...Vincent?"
The man smiled as he realized he was in no danger, but it was an expression that showed no real happiness; only a form of self-satisfaction. "Ah, Heather. I didn't think we would meet again so soon."
"Oh, yeah?" Heather managed to reply back, unable to help the sarcasm that leaked into the response. She grabbed onto her left arm, digging her nails into the skin in the hopes of distracting herself from the shocks of pain that continued to rise through her leg. "Didn't get the memo from your god, huh?"
"I would have been more prepared to greet you if I had," the priest said with a shrug, and Heather honestly couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
"I see," she bit out, flinching as she accidentally bumped her calf against the door. She hoped it would go unnoticed by the other, but he glanced down almost immediately, frowning as his gaze finally settled on her bloodied lower leg.
"What happened?" Vincent asked, walking the rest of the way to her before she could protest. He bent down before her with a sigh, readjusting his glasses with one finger and leaning closer to inspect the wound. "Honestly, Heather. You can't afford to be so reckless; especially not now."
"I didn't do it on purpose, you know," she said, the comment sounding a lot weaker than she had originally planned. Vincent only glanced up at her, before he reached out to touch one of the unbloodied spots on her leg. The girl instantly jerked away from his fingers, swaying a bit as she nearly lost her balance; it didn't help to ease the strain on her leg, but there was still a part of her that felt like she couldn't fully trust Vincent. "What are you doing?"
The sickeningly sweet smile returned to the man's face as he stood, and Heather repressed the sudden urge to smack the grin off of him. "I'm trying to help you, like always. I couldn't just knowingly let you die here."
"Because it'd be an inconvenience for you?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?"
"Regardless, please come over here," Vincent said, gesturing to a worn, old couch pressed against one of the walls, beginning to walk in its direction. He paused after the first few steps, looking back at the teen. "Can you walk?"
"...I don't need your help," Heather responded stubbornly, bracing herself against the door but not yet pushing off of it. She looked away from the other, focusing her gaze on the far, opposite corner of the room.
"Can you walk?" the priest repeated a moment later, slowly and deliberately, and Heather realized he likely wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. She took the time to go over what little options she had: she could refuse his help, turn around and leave, and hope that she'd have enough luck to find a medical spray someplace. It could very easily end in success or tragedy, and Heather wasn't quite sure she wanted to test her odds on that.
She could, possibly, try to knock him out and search for any medical items on him, but that, too, had a high likelihood of failure; Vincent was probably stronger than she was, and was in fine condition, while she currently was not. And, whether she liked it or not, Vincent was the only even vaguely friendly face she had met within this other world. Right now, he was the only aid she had.
Which led to her last choice: take what help was offered to her, and be on her way afterwards. She was still a bit wary that the priest would try something, though she wasn't sure what; either way, it would be better than nothing.
"...Not really," she answered finally, turning her attention to the other once more. Vincent chuckled, wordlessly holding out a hand for her to take. She hesitated before actually taking hold of it, grasping it tightly as she allowed herself to be led away. It was a thankfully short distance, but it hurt regardless, and she wondered briefly if any blood was still circulating through Vincent's hand.
Heather sat down carefully when they reached the couch, settling on the edge of the seat. Vincent knelt down in front of her once more, removing a roll of bandages and a can of medical spray from his pocket. The girl was tempted to ask why he had them in the first place, but refrained.
"Tell me if I'm hurting you," the man said, taking a hold of her foot and carefully lifting her leg. Heather found herself laughing, albeit bitterly, holding onto the cushion below her as she watched Vincent unzip her boot.
"You probably couldn't do much worse."
"True." Vincent pulled her boot away, setting it off to the side and pulling a clean, white handkerchief out of his shirt's pocket. He began gingerly dabbing at the blood staining her calf, working to remove the fresh layer that had yet to dry. Heather continued to watch in silence, surprised at how gentle the priest was being.
The cleaning passed within a few minutes, though it somehow seemed much longer. The two remained quiet as Vincent sprayed over the wound, before unraveling the gauze and beginning to wrap it around the injured area. The settling medicine stung as usual, but it paled in comparison to the previous pain she had felt.
"That should work better," the man said proudly once he was finished, setting the items out of the way. His hand returned but a moment later, fingers stroking gently along the newly bandaged area. Heather didn't move this time, nor did she look away; it didn't hurt, and she could sense no malicious intent from her companion. He touched the bare skin above the line of gauze, and it felt... nice, oddly. She could get used to such a soft touch.
It took her a few moments, though, to remember that this was Vincent, and to realize she had been staring down at him for the past few minutes. She forced herself to snap out of it, blushing a little and mumbling quickly, "T-thanks."
"You're welcome, but... is something wrong, Heather?" the priest asked, standing up and leaning closer once more, grin stretched firmly across his lips. Heather frowned up at him, but soon faltered under his gaze, glancing away again and cursing herself silently as she felt the heat in her cheeks increase. Her behavior didn't go unnoticed by the man in front of her, if the soft laughter and the fingers caressing the side of her face were any indication. She tried to tilt her head away, but he only followed, taking a hold of her chin. His lips were on hers soon after, his hand moving to cradle the back of her neck.
Heather had never thought about kissing Vincent; building relationships wasn't high on her list of priorities the first time they had met, or any of the times after. But despite that, she felt herself kissing back, before the action had even completely registered in her mind. Her eyes closed of their own will, and her hands tightened their hold on the old cushion below her. It felt surprisingly good, and she welcomed it, knowing all too well how good things were hard to come by in this place.
It wasn't until Vincent's hand began to move again that Heather jerkily broke off the kiss. She felt ashamed, for a moment, that she had allowed it to happen in the first place; she didn't have time for things like this, not when she still had a crazy bitch and her followers to bring down. She half-jumped from her seat, nearly knocking the priest over in the process and heading for the door.
"I-I have to go."
"Heather, wait--"
"Later, Vincent.” Heather said hurriedly, pausing only briefly as she touched the doorknob. "I'm..." she started, though she wasn't sure what she had planned to say. Shaking her head, she quickly left the room, not looking back as she tried to keep from thinking about what could happen if they did meet later.
Form: Fanfiction
For: leesers
Prompt: SH3: Vincent/Heather
The gash on the back of Heather's left calf was deep and long, fresh blood pulsating out of it with each limping step that she took. One of those demon hounds-- if you could even call them dogs-- had gotten her by surprise as she’d turned a corner a ways back. She hadn't been quick enough to stop it from biting and scratching, but she had at least been able to keep it from ripping her leg clean off. It had been the only monster around, thankfully, but Heather had realized soon after that she was out of health drinks and first aid kits.
The girl sighed, stopping briefly to lean against a rust-covered wall. This wasn't good; she was steadily losing blood, and even if there were no monsters in sight, they would probably soon flock towards the smell of an open wound. It hurt to put pressure on it, but she knew she had to keep moving forward. She seriously doubted her chances of survival would be high if she were to drop into a faint in the open hallway.
She pushed herself back off the wall, continuing on her way through the rotted building. She began looking for some place to rest, and perhaps find something she could use to deal with her injury. Noticing a line of doors on the wall across from her, she made her way over and tried one at random, opening it slowly; she heard a groan from inside, and shuffling, and shut it again without a second thought. She wasn't going to risk it in this condition.
Heather stepped into the next door that opened for her, surveying her surroundings quickly; the lights were already on, and the room seemed well kept, at least compared to most of the others. When no growls met her on the way in, she closed the door behind her, leaning back against it.
"Shit..." she groaned to herself, shifting her weight onto her right leg; now that she gotten out of immediate danger, she was very quickly becoming more aware of the pain. She shakily lifted a hand to push her bangs out of her eyes, wiping the sweat from her forehead in the process. Tears rose into the corners of her eyes, but she fought them back; she couldn't start crying now. She had to be strong and alert, find something to fix her injuries, and continue moving through this God-forsaken--
"Who's there?"
The blond snapped her head up, glancing quickly around the room. She thought she recognized the voice, an assumption that was confirmed when the person walked in from an adjoining room she had failed to notice earlier.
"...Vincent?"
The man smiled as he realized he was in no danger, but it was an expression that showed no real happiness; only a form of self-satisfaction. "Ah, Heather. I didn't think we would meet again so soon."
"Oh, yeah?" Heather managed to reply back, unable to help the sarcasm that leaked into the response. She grabbed onto her left arm, digging her nails into the skin in the hopes of distracting herself from the shocks of pain that continued to rise through her leg. "Didn't get the memo from your god, huh?"
"I would have been more prepared to greet you if I had," the priest said with a shrug, and Heather honestly couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
"I see," she bit out, flinching as she accidentally bumped her calf against the door. She hoped it would go unnoticed by the other, but he glanced down almost immediately, frowning as his gaze finally settled on her bloodied lower leg.
"What happened?" Vincent asked, walking the rest of the way to her before she could protest. He bent down before her with a sigh, readjusting his glasses with one finger and leaning closer to inspect the wound. "Honestly, Heather. You can't afford to be so reckless; especially not now."
"I didn't do it on purpose, you know," she said, the comment sounding a lot weaker than she had originally planned. Vincent only glanced up at her, before he reached out to touch one of the unbloodied spots on her leg. The girl instantly jerked away from his fingers, swaying a bit as she nearly lost her balance; it didn't help to ease the strain on her leg, but there was still a part of her that felt like she couldn't fully trust Vincent. "What are you doing?"
The sickeningly sweet smile returned to the man's face as he stood, and Heather repressed the sudden urge to smack the grin off of him. "I'm trying to help you, like always. I couldn't just knowingly let you die here."
"Because it'd be an inconvenience for you?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?"
"Regardless, please come over here," Vincent said, gesturing to a worn, old couch pressed against one of the walls, beginning to walk in its direction. He paused after the first few steps, looking back at the teen. "Can you walk?"
"...I don't need your help," Heather responded stubbornly, bracing herself against the door but not yet pushing off of it. She looked away from the other, focusing her gaze on the far, opposite corner of the room.
"Can you walk?" the priest repeated a moment later, slowly and deliberately, and Heather realized he likely wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. She took the time to go over what little options she had: she could refuse his help, turn around and leave, and hope that she'd have enough luck to find a medical spray someplace. It could very easily end in success or tragedy, and Heather wasn't quite sure she wanted to test her odds on that.
She could, possibly, try to knock him out and search for any medical items on him, but that, too, had a high likelihood of failure; Vincent was probably stronger than she was, and was in fine condition, while she currently was not. And, whether she liked it or not, Vincent was the only even vaguely friendly face she had met within this other world. Right now, he was the only aid she had.
Which led to her last choice: take what help was offered to her, and be on her way afterwards. She was still a bit wary that the priest would try something, though she wasn't sure what; either way, it would be better than nothing.
"...Not really," she answered finally, turning her attention to the other once more. Vincent chuckled, wordlessly holding out a hand for her to take. She hesitated before actually taking hold of it, grasping it tightly as she allowed herself to be led away. It was a thankfully short distance, but it hurt regardless, and she wondered briefly if any blood was still circulating through Vincent's hand.
Heather sat down carefully when they reached the couch, settling on the edge of the seat. Vincent knelt down in front of her once more, removing a roll of bandages and a can of medical spray from his pocket. The girl was tempted to ask why he had them in the first place, but refrained.
"Tell me if I'm hurting you," the man said, taking a hold of her foot and carefully lifting her leg. Heather found herself laughing, albeit bitterly, holding onto the cushion below her as she watched Vincent unzip her boot.
"You probably couldn't do much worse."
"True." Vincent pulled her boot away, setting it off to the side and pulling a clean, white handkerchief out of his shirt's pocket. He began gingerly dabbing at the blood staining her calf, working to remove the fresh layer that had yet to dry. Heather continued to watch in silence, surprised at how gentle the priest was being.
The cleaning passed within a few minutes, though it somehow seemed much longer. The two remained quiet as Vincent sprayed over the wound, before unraveling the gauze and beginning to wrap it around the injured area. The settling medicine stung as usual, but it paled in comparison to the previous pain she had felt.
"That should work better," the man said proudly once he was finished, setting the items out of the way. His hand returned but a moment later, fingers stroking gently along the newly bandaged area. Heather didn't move this time, nor did she look away; it didn't hurt, and she could sense no malicious intent from her companion. He touched the bare skin above the line of gauze, and it felt... nice, oddly. She could get used to such a soft touch.
It took her a few moments, though, to remember that this was Vincent, and to realize she had been staring down at him for the past few minutes. She forced herself to snap out of it, blushing a little and mumbling quickly, "T-thanks."
"You're welcome, but... is something wrong, Heather?" the priest asked, standing up and leaning closer once more, grin stretched firmly across his lips. Heather frowned up at him, but soon faltered under his gaze, glancing away again and cursing herself silently as she felt the heat in her cheeks increase. Her behavior didn't go unnoticed by the man in front of her, if the soft laughter and the fingers caressing the side of her face were any indication. She tried to tilt her head away, but he only followed, taking a hold of her chin. His lips were on hers soon after, his hand moving to cradle the back of her neck.
Heather had never thought about kissing Vincent; building relationships wasn't high on her list of priorities the first time they had met, or any of the times after. But despite that, she felt herself kissing back, before the action had even completely registered in her mind. Her eyes closed of their own will, and her hands tightened their hold on the old cushion below her. It felt surprisingly good, and she welcomed it, knowing all too well how good things were hard to come by in this place.
It wasn't until Vincent's hand began to move again that Heather jerkily broke off the kiss. She felt ashamed, for a moment, that she had allowed it to happen in the first place; she didn't have time for things like this, not when she still had a crazy bitch and her followers to bring down. She half-jumped from her seat, nearly knocking the priest over in the process and heading for the door.
"I-I have to go."
"Heather, wait--"
"Later, Vincent.” Heather said hurriedly, pausing only briefly as she touched the doorknob. "I'm..." she started, though she wasn't sure what she had planned to say. Shaking her head, she quickly left the room, not looking back as she tried to keep from thinking about what could happen if they did meet later.