|I won't be working on this at all until RWBY: Resolve reaches the choke point (as far as it can until the next volume of RWBY begins to air), but I thought I'd share this little bit in the spirit of Halloween. Happy Spook Day...|
Prologue
The usual response to a strong odor is to recoil from it. Whether it be a laden perfume, a raw, burnt scent, or a galling stench, when that sense of smell is assaulted the reaction is to turn away –attempt to find more suitable air to breathe, escape such discomfort. Only when one is subjected to it over and over do they become accustomed to it; this can be said of all drastic sensations, like bright flashes or acquired tastes.
Growing used to something is common. Growing fond of it is not... and a fondness of this particular scent would be viewed as twisted and perverse by most anyone. The fresh tang of slaughter hung in the air, of blood and insides both freely cast across walls and floors as well as lazily gathering in the easiest places to flow after leaving the body to which it belonged. Tears were also shed in abundance, but that was merely an undertone to the lingering veil. Despite this, the steady rhythm of inhales was all that could be heard now within here, and contented ones at that. Darkness held dominance here, so when the door to the room opened, this powerful aroma was the first thing experienced by any in the doorway; this was why the two men performing this simplest of tasks were wearing handkerchiefs dampened with cold water, for lack of any better means to combat the smell.
The light that poured from beyond the threshold cut a long golden path through the shadows, the space revealed only a rusted metal floor with crimson staining every few inches. The drawn-in form of a person curled up at the end of the room could be seen, long black hair spilled out to the side into one of the many dark puddles. The men at the door moved inside a few feet, eyes trained on the lone figure, and set down a plate with food; bread, some water, and an apple, moving back to the door without turning their backs. Only from here did they speak, the leftmost raising his voice first; "There are no more for today. You're clean."
The figure inside the room limply shifted into a sitting position, revealing a frail and unclothed frame that looked fit to burst once drawing a deep breath, as if they were in a field of flowers and letting it out a satisfied sigh. One of the two men looked as if it made him want to vomit. They watched in silence, as they were supposed to, until what turned out to be a girl was up and crawling toward them at an alarming rate; they slammed the door as fast as they could muster and dropped the enormous steel bar across it. There were numerous loud thuds against the door, a few more dents added to the many already there, and just as soon the beating ceased. The one who spoke coughed once, getting his partner's attention and hardly affected by the turn of events. "Who should watch?"
"I'll do it. You go ask about the drops." The other answered. A nod from each, and they parted. The second fellow stood by the door, and after counting to thirty, slid back a strip of the door to view inside. They needed to be sure she ate.
He only had to peek inside for a moment, seeing even with this little light the silhouette of the girl within. She fit an entire apple into her mouth at once and crushed it between her jaws with a loud crunch, bits of skin and juice spraying from the fruit. She looked into his eyes with a mixture of hungry lust and primal fury... He shut the strip.
The departing member of those two men stepped down from the wagon now housing a giant metal box, moving up the series of others not quite outfitted with such extreme means of containment yet. He took to one of the frontmost in their group; this was the closest thing to a house, having eavestroughs and sealable chimneys for when the caravan needed to stay put for long periods of time. He climbed into the driver's seat and knocked on the door leading into the back, not waiting long before hearing acceptance. Inside was a well-lit area with three tables at the back wall and on either side of the room, numerous shelves of Dust and tools both scattered haphazardly and stacked neatly in various places.
The occupant of this wagon stood at a menacing height of a bit over six feet, and her demeanor was imposing. It was unnatural that her size both looked dangerous and fragile at once, as she towered above him but looked so thin... She turned to face him, and he wished she hadn't, still having a hard time suppressing the flinch brought on by seeing it. She either hadn't noticed, or didn't care. "Yes?"
He swallowed before he began. "Grimm are approaching faster, more concentrated. Tonight is the best chance to drop and go..."
"This is your opinion, or his?" Her voice was so alluring that it seemed almost physically impossible for these seductive vocals to come from the source that they did.
"Do you really have to ask?" He replied in second nature, swiftly regretting that decision. There was a slit down his face now, just a sliver of a cut starting at his lower eyelid coming down to his upper lip, caused faster than his eyes could follow or even acknowledge. The cut stung fiercely, and he only pulled back and held his face a moment after finding out it was there.
The woman here still stood ramrod straight, wide white eyes still showing little interest in him. "You know not to take that tone with me."
"Yes, Schaless. It won't happen again, I swear it." The man composed himself within seconds, narrowly saving himself further punishment. The injury to his face would never stop burning for the rest of his life; he knew this from the others she'd done it to, but having just one was actually fortunate. There were others that bore dozens, and in places they hadn't even known she could reach.
She faced the back table again, sparing him the image that would haunt his sleep for the next few nights. "The two younger ones can be left behind... I expect efforts to find more stock to be doubled."
"Yes, Schaless." He nodded carefully, and backed toward the door much like he had with the last girl he'd dealt with; not taking his eyes off until he was out and free of her presence. There was a few seconds to soothe the dull ache in the right side of his face, or at least try, with the damp cloth he still had before moving to the back of the wagons now.
The two wagons bringing up the rear were fortified scarcely, as an afterthought at the time they'd done so, and he scaled the side to slide open the larger door. Inside were several cells watched over by another like him, the jailbirds inside few. Of the eight in this wagon alone, two were filled; the kids were just shy of being in their teenage years, wearing improvised clothes from bits of rags and sacks that had come close to where they had been trapped. Dark circles hung under their eyes, fearing sleep. Red were the veins above these, fearing exhaustion. Grimy and weak from prolonged containment and lack of nourishment, they both scurried to the furthest corners of their cages when the sliding door opened.
The watchman and outsider exchanged nonverbal greetings. Keeping his vision from meeting either of the boys in the cells, he spoke with the guard and ignored the gasps; "These two are to be released... I spoke with the Schaless, and she gives permission."
"You spoke with her, all right..." The watchman said amusedly, poking fun at the new mark left by the encounter. "We move on in ten. I'll get these ones out ASAP."
Nodding, he left the watchman to his own tasks, but found a hand meekly clutching his shirt. The boy left of him was tearing up, blubbering. "Thank you... so much... Tha-..."
Tugging himself free, he couldn't suppress the frown on his face. The watchman laughed aloud this time. The mobile prison was devoid of him soon, but not soon enough in his opinion, as shown in his shameful stride.
Holding the two boys by the hair, the watchman dragged them from their cells and out the back of the wagon. He moved from the group of archaic vehicles, chuckling a bit at the struggles and protests that they could walk themselves. The terror was starting to form again in the pits of their stomachs. He could tell... The trek lasted a good fifteen minutes, and two more individuals stood by a single, ten-foot post shining with lamplight at the top and halfway down. Similar lights could be seen in a perimeter spaced widely.
"Finally dropping these two..." He said as he reached the light, the pair like him once again in appearance standing with four-pronged crossbows by the post. They nodded, the boys staring hopefully.
"Unbind their limbs over there; we'll do the rest." Nearly gone now, but still holding on, the glimmer in the eyes of the two boys flickered as they were forced to the edge of the light shed by the post, and promptly unbound. One smiled while the other looked at the watchman expectantly, curious as he simply walked away with a smug look. Once he was out of sight, the two by the post pointed their weapons at the children, who froze like prey.
"Run." Was all they uttered before loosing shots, the kids vanishing into the sparse forestry they had been released near. A few more bolts escaped their crossbows before they listened carefully, hearing the brush part for the frantic escapees. A tumult of distant howls suggested they had done their part, and soon they were folding up the post, removing the perimeter like the lights dying further on either side. They would go back to the caravans, the Grimm that were drawn to the victims kept with them now sufficiently distracted by the ones they'd freed. They would move on, putting a distance between they and the creatures until the beasts were attracted again.
"How much time?" One asked, slinging his crossbow over shoulder to hold the shrunken post in both hands.
"A few seconds for the bigger one. The smaller kid looked less shocked, so give him an hour or two –maybe..." A yell came to them, sounding distant as expected, but not distant enough for the sounds of gnashing teeth and disembowelment to be muted. These men had grown accustomed to the sounds, much like the other senses gone dull, and not a soul nearby was put off by the acts committed that night.
How else would they get through the next?