So, I wasn't originally planning to post this up. I haven't written a fanfiction in ages, and to suddenly come out with a bunch of one-shots concerning a game I just beat and never finished playing the original to? It seemed a bit silly, really. But, after looking over the two I have finished, I knew I was going to write more, and I hate keeping my writing all to myself. The fabulousness should be shared with the entire world!
So, here is the first: a bit of a rant that popped into my mind after fighting with the creepiest monster I've ever fought in any video game.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, save for my take on Female Sparrow's Character and my hatred for Banshees.
1. Damned Banshees
Damn Theresa, Damn Heroism, and, for an extra thought, Damn everything.
If there was one thing Sparrow hated more than anything else within the entire world—Lucien, Evil, Drunkards, and people who kicked her dog withstanding—it was those Damned Banshees.
Sparrow was fine with every other terrifying monster she'd encountered. Alright, bring on Twelve of those Gigantic, annoying Trolls. Fine then, bring on your best armed Bandits. Unleash the hordes of Hollow Men, Hobbes, and Balverines. But, once the word 'Banshee' entered her train of thought, or even if the diabolical monster were to be brought up in a conversation, Sparrow miraculously transformed into a pile of sniveling goo.
Trolls, gigantic as they were, didn't seem to tower over Her.
Bandits didn't send out creepy little children to attack Her.
Hollow Men didn't make the world around Her seem lifeless and empty.
Hobbes didn't take the form of a Human.
But, most importantly, Balverines didn't read Sparrow's heart and soul, Balverines didn't dig into her conscious and throw her deepest regrets and sins into her face.
Sparrow's secrets were her own. Her sins were her own. Her memories were her own. And to have an eerily familiar voice whisper and coo her secrets and sins and memories was terrifying. It was shameful, even if only Sparrow's faithful dog and her own ears were the only witnesses to the verbal lashing.
The worst part, however, was how the battles always proved to affect her after words. After she'd killed the monster, after she'd trudged towards the nearest Inn, after she'd rented out a room, those whispered words still haunted her. Within the dark, strange, alcohol-reeking bedroom, Sparrow felt humiliated, hopeless, empty, ridiculous, and as Un-heroic as one can possibly feel.
Sparrow was a Hero. She was sure of that now, after all she'd been through and the countless Villagers who'd cheered her name. And to be reminded that she, too, was Human, that she, too, had fears, that, she, too, was able to commit sin…if knocking Sparrow off her High Horse was the Banshee's Group-focused wish, than they were certainly succeeding.
Alas, Sparrow got over it. Though she shivered as she awoke the following morning, and though the stench of swamps coated her nostrils, Sparrow got over it. She had to—after all, heaven forbid if the great Hero Sparrow showed more than a moment worth of weakness.
Hours later, Sparrow would shed the haunting echo of the Banshee's scream and return to her usual silent, strong self.
Until she ran into another.
The process would repeat itself until she destroyed yet another of the hellish creatures, when, attempting to catch her breath and sanity, she would think one single sentence.
Damn Theresa, Damn Heroism, and, for an extra thought, Damn everything.