RED SILENCE

The dying splendor of the sun disappeared behind the gathering rain clouds that spilled out these large drops of water, showering Marron Forest in a chilling and misty haze. The witch of the woods made haste to gather her airing laundry and drop it in a handmade basket before it could get wet. She laid her apron over the top just as the rain began to get heavier with every passing second. She was about to turn back in for the day when the sound of a galloping horse pierced through the thick trees of the forest.

A rider, dressed in dark clothing emerged from the woods and came to a halt right up next to her. The witch didn't even need a minute to recognize who it was. She saw the silvery blue of his eyes and soon realized that it was the Count, coming alone this time, nonetheless. It wasn't his second time back in her neck of the woods though. He had made multiple trips back and forth a couple of times already with favors to ask of her, regarding his wounded men, but now seeing him alone…really surprised her.

The witch quickly rushed over to her front door and opened it up, ushering him inside just as he dismounted his horse. She waited until he was under her roof before closing the door behind her. "Dear me, what are you thinking? Coming all the way out here when it was going to rain. look at you. Your soaking wet." The witch huffed while pulling out a towel from her basket. "You'll catch yourself a death in this cold." She forced him into a chair and began to ruffle the towel all over his hair to try and dry him off.

The Count felt like he didn't have a moment to speak because of her surprisingly assertive nature, but it didn't take him long to totally forget everything around him and solely focus on the feeling of her hands. His thoughts turned into a muddled haze that was completely at the mercy of this woman and her soothing touch. He understood that it was a mundane task to do, but she was...just so gentle with him.

After a minute, the witch pulled the towel off and folded it under her arms. "Which reminds me. How are your wounds? The last few times you've seen me, it was healing well. Is it still alright?"

The Count blinked a couple of times after realizing that she was now addressing him. "I only stopped using your strange concoction after it ran out. It's healing on its own right now and it never got infected," he finally managed to say, now that he got his wits about him back. It was funny because it truly felt like he was under some sort of spell for a moment there.

"I expected that would happen." The witch shrugged and dropped the towel over on the messy table behind her. She was obviously hard at work only a couple of minutes ago with the empty bottles and ground-up herbs lying around but had to stop to save her clothes from the rain.

"You did?"

"It's the same song and dance. Expecting a different result each time is only maddening." She kneeled down in front of him and began to unravel the bandages from around his arm. She checked the stitching carefully and the discoloration around his skin, all of which started to heal normally by this time. She ran her fingers below the stitching when he suddenly flinched. "Oh! I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" she said and quickly pulled her hands away.

The Count looked down at his arm and ran his hand over the stitching. He was a lot less gentle than she was, but it didn't even hurt. It was just the kind sensation of her touch that made him flinch. Something that was wildly unfamiliar to him. "No... It stopped hurting a while ago," he said wistfully, gesturing for her to take a seat next to him. "This place...is really quiet. Does it never bother you?" he asked.

"I find the silence quite inviting. Helps me think and focus on my work more," she said and pulled up a seat next to him. "There have been plenty of days where I would be so engrossed in my studies...that the daylight would just sink away."

The Count quietly studied her for a moment to try and decipher some of the unusual emotions she was carrying on her face. He couldn't tell what it was though and ended up turning away to look out the rainy window. "Have you ever felt lonely though?"

The woman cracked a small but sheepish grin. "I don't think I was ever much of a people-person in the first place," she said with a giggle escaping her pink lips. "Back then, people would look at me as if I was insane. I was always alone...but I never hated it."

"It must be a harsh existence if only the silence is willing to stay by your side."

"Yes but...silence is also patient. Nor does it judge you." She dropped her head and her smile dwindled, not falling yet but very close. "But it's sad that out of a hundred people...you're the first person who came back that didn't ask anything of me. I don't mind the silence...but I do appreciate any kind of company I can get."

The Count felt his heart hammer against his ribs with every beat. "Even if your company is a demon?"

"Even a demon, but if a demon is willing to come back and have a harmless conversation with me, can that really be called evil?" The woman lifted her head and tilted it to the side, smiling softly at him in a way no one had ever done to him before. "I don't mind you visiting me. It can be a good escape from your usual life. I can imagine...doing the things that you do, it can be rather suffocating at times, no?"

"More ways than one, but as you already know, my visits can't last forever, no matter how much I want them to." He began to feel his hands quiver from underneath his armor, making the metal tremble. "I'm sorry to disappoint you." He looked away from her, but the witch reached up and gently brushed his face back towards her. He could see now that she wasn't mad, not even upset.

"I already know, but why do you sound... more disheartened than me?" she spoke lightly and cupped his face with now both her hands. She leaned in close until their foreheads were touching.

"It's because…I find this kind of silence comforting too." He reached his hand up and grasp hers tightly. "Just a few more minutes...just like this," he whispered.

They sat within silence the rest of the hour they had, hands intertwined together and listening to the sound of the rain pouring right outside the window. Not a single word was said as the witch leaned her head against the Count's shoulder, smiling to herself while feeling his grip tighten around her small hand.

The front door of the small cottage opened up and the witch and Count hurried out with a blanket held under their heads. She led him through the rainy mess and over towards his horse that was waiting under a thick oak tree. The Count held onto the woman's shoulders the whole time and only let go once he got close enough to his horse. His hands slipped from her side and so did all the warmth from his body. He felt cold in that instant, unnaturally cold. Colder than the rain could've made him. He felt the bitterness...all the way to his core.

The Count placed his hand over on the saddle but didn't push himself up. He couldn't bring himself to gather the strength to take another step away. He didn't want her warmth to disappear any more than it had. He...didn't want to leave.

The woman blinked when the Count just stood there, letting himself get rained on but not reacting to it at all. "Count?" She took a step towards him and tilted her head to the side, seeing a completely mortified look on his face. She had never seen him make such an expression before and didn't even think he was capable of it. At that moment, he had never appeared so human to her until now.

The woman hesitated to reach out, but as her fingers inched closer to his shoulder, he abruptly looked back at her. He grabbed her hand tightly and yanked hard. The woman gasped and felt the blanket slip from her head as his other hand grabbed the back of her neck. She was cold for a moment...and then she wasn't. She felt the rain hit the top of her head but didn't feel any coldness from it. Instead, all she felt was intense heat as the Count leaned in close and pressed his lips against hers. She felt his passion pour into her through his actions. She felt his desperation with how tightly he was holding her. She could even feel his emotions and what he was thinking at that very moment, screaming 'I don't want to go...'.

It hasn't stopped raining since then. It's been two days of an endless downpour that made it very difficult to do anything outside. The witch had been stuck inside her house the whole time and had very little to do, but with also too much to think about. She felt like she had to be busy with something. Anything. She was desperate for it, or else she would keep replaying what she and the Count did under those gray skies.

"Oh, jeez. Get ahold of yourself. It was just a fluke, ok?" she said, trying to convince herself as her face flushed with embarrassment. "There was nothing there. That kis…ki…that incident meant nothing."

She grabbed a couple of herbs from off the shelf and pulled out her mortar and pestle bowl to try and get something done. It didn't matter how mundane it was. She just wanted to try and clear her mind and think things through a little better.

She dropped the herbs into the bowl and began to grind away until it was a pile of dark green mush. She pulled some out and packed it into a couple of the empty bottles before moving on. Grinding and grinding away until the palm of her hand began to hurt. The woman flinched and looked down at her hand. It was because of her obsessive grinding that she had rubbed the palm of her skin raw.

"This is ridiculous. What's wrong with me?" she muttered while pulling a rag over her hand.

The witch turned her head out the window and noticed that she had literally spent the whole day obsessively grinding away at her skin. It was still raining but the sun had sunk below the trees and turned the skies black. It wasn't completely dark though, she noticed. There was this single orange and red glow a couple of feet away from her window that caught her attention, flickering against the rain within enclosed darkness. She moved in closer to get a better idea of what it was when the glow suddenly got bigger…and bigger. The woman gasps sharply and ducked below her window just when something crashed through the glass, hitting the bookshelf full of loose papers behind her.

"What in the— What?!" the witch gasped and looked over at what it was. It was a rock that was thrown through her window, deliberately set on fire, and now burning all the loose papers that had fallen off the shelf. "No! No, no, no!" she yelled and frantically tried to smother the fire with her cloth-wrapped hand.

"Get out here, you fucking witch!" yelled a hateful voice from outside her broken window.

The woman flinched and pulled the rag off her hand when it began to burn her sensitive raw skin. She looked up just in time to see two more blazing rocks fly through her busted window and roll across the ground, catching fire to the old basket that still had her laundry from two days ago in it.

"We know this curse is your doing! Get out here!"

"Yeah! Get the fuck out! Don't try and say that this is none of your fault!"

The woman gave a pained gasp and crawled away to a corner of her house as the intense fire continued to grow, taking shape of a flaming demon with hollow black eyes. It spread quickly and latched onto everything in reach, lighting it ablaze which only made the demon grow bigger, reaching the ceiling and emitting dense black smoke. It even set the helm of her dress on fire, which burned all the way down to her skin. The woman let out a fretful scream and quickly ripped the flaming part of her dress off before it could consume her.

"You said that the medicine you gave me would cure my mother and I! Instead…it killed her!" one of the voices continued to yell.

"What?" The woman shielded her face from the hellish flames when it finally clicked for her. Who the voice actually belonged to. It was the same man who came for her help a couple of days ago. The one with the black and red boils all over his skin. The one with plague. "I never said it could cure you! I said it would ease the pain! Please!" she shouted urgently just as two more fire-lit rocks flew through the window. "Stop it, please!"

"Liar! You're a witch, so all your good at is lying! Get out here! Now!"

There was no more hope of the fire ever being extinguished. It had grown way too big and spread too far, destroying all the work she had spent years building up. It was gone now. All gone in a blink of an eye. There was nothing that could be done anymore.

The woman put every ounce of strength she had and picked herself off the ground. She made haste over to the back door and busted it open before running blindly into the dark woods. Her eyes were hazy with tears and her lungs burned from how much smoke she inhaled. The rain was still coming down hard and struck her sensitive skin like a hundred needles. Everything was hurting. From the burns on her legs, her watery eyes, and smokey lungs. And above all...she was afraid.

The which didn't know where she was going, nor what was really happening anymore. She knew these woods better than anyone, but now having to escape through them...she couldn't draw up a map inside her head. It was like running through a forest she had never been in before. She didn't know the trees she was running past. She didn't know the jagged rocks cutting her feet. None of it was familiar.

Even with her greatest power. Her knowledge…. She still didn't know what to do. She knew nothing.

A dark mass quickly charged out of the woods from the corner of her eye and rammed straight into her side at full force, tackling her roughly to the rain-drenched floor and nearly knocking all the air out of her smoky lungs. They wrestled on the ground for a moment but she could quickly tell that it was a man, judging by how much strength he was using to hold her down. He climbed on top of her and pushed her small body against the cold ground, using his arms to keep her limbs in place.

"I got her! She's over here! I got the witch!" The man lying on top of her shouted, his voice echoing fiercely through the dark woods.

"Please get off me!" The witch tried to wiggle free but to no avail. He was pressing her dainty wrists so far into the ground that she feared he was going to break them. "I did nothing wrong!"

"Shut your filthy mouth! We know you're the one responsible for this disease! You cast your black magic on us all!" he screeched at her, spitting his hateful words out like they were made of poison.

"I did no such thing!" She looked up at him just as the color and warmblood drained from her skin. The man was covered in red boils that were bloated with pus. Even the tips of his fingers had turned completely black.

At least three other villagers came running out of the dark forest with their faces covered in irritating red boils, the clear signs of being past the point of no return. She could see the look in their eyes, men and women who obviously didn't have anything left to lose.

The man she helped originally stomped right up to the grounded witch and pulled out a dirty kitchen knife. He shoved it right into her mouth and pressed it against her gums. The woman closed her eyes tightly as she tried not to scream. She felt him press the knife in further until blood began to run down her throat. "This is all your fault! If you…if you hadn't existed…then we all wouldn't have to feel this torture!"

The lightning crackled to the sound of his screams, igniting the dark woods in a glow of bright light, revealing a dangerous specter looming like a demon behind them all. The Count held his sword high above them and swung it down with all his fury, right over the top of the knife-wielder's head and nearly splitting him in two. Blood and organs fell out as his body slumped to the side, completely showering the woman in bright stains of red.

The woman laid motionless as the screaming and butchering began. Blood quickly replaced the water on the ground, and the screeches overwhelmed the sound of the rain. The villagers ran for their lives but not a single one got away. It was like the Count was completely trapped within a slaughtering trance and didn't stop swinging his sword for one second, hacking and cutting up everything in his sight until the screams finally died down, returning the sound of gentle rainfall. The only thing that was left was a single man standing above the dismembered bodies, breathing roughly and dripping with warm blood.

"It…it…wasn't my…I..." spoke the world's most innocent-sounding voice.

The bloody Count looked over to the witch and saw that she hadn't moved from her spot at all. She was covered in blood and guts and was trapped in a state of catatonic stillness. Her moonstruck eyes were wide with distress and her hands shook violently at her side. The rain hadn't let up the whole time either and completely soaked her body, smearing the blood all over her face.

The Count walked over to her and kneeled down. He took her face into his hands and tried to wash off the blood, being as gentle as she was to him. "Shh...I know."

"It wasn't my…" The woman's lips began to tremble when she felt the warmth of his skin touch her so tenderly. "It wasn't my…fault..." Her voice started to get smaller and smaller as the tears began to fall from her eyes.

The Count reached around back to his long cape and tossed it over her body to cover her from the heavy rain. He pulled her close after that and held her as tightly as he could without breaking her.

Her cries soon intensified to complete wales of despair. "It wasn't my fault!"

"I know."

"It wasn't…! It wasn't!"

"Shhh. I know," he said, tucking back her hair and whispering into her ear. "For now on…I won't let anything else harm you…never again,"

Soaked by the rain and cold to the bone, the Count hugged the woman tightly as she did the same to him, crying her eyes out for the first time in her life and truly…not knowing where it all went so wrong.

The skies opened up and cried tears of rain over the funeral, held by what was left of the Hellsing. Anna distanced herself from the small crowd of mourning family members and stood in the back of the graveyard. She was somewhat protected by the rain since she was standing under a large oak tree, but was still getting pelted by the large drops that slipped through the leaves.

Seras walked up beside Anna and held her umbrella over the both of them. "Miss Anna? Are you alright?" She asked, noticing that Anna had been acting a bit off ever since the attack. Seras didn't want to make speculations, but she couldn't get the haunted look of Anna's face out of her mind when the word 'Vermilion' came up. "You're not feeling ill or anything, right?"

Anna glanced down at Seras and saw her curious yet worrisome eyes. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a thought…really. Something I'm just now remembering after all the years." she said in the gentlest of whispers, smiling like she usually did while patting the young one's head.

"What's that?"

"I remember always thinking this when I was still human." She gestured her attention up to the crying skies once more, now speaking with a voice full of fond memories. "When it rains like this…I always thought that it was angels crying and that the dark clouds were God's way of mourning the ones who were lost."

Seras followed Anna's gaze and just stared silently at the sky. "I feel like I've heard that before," she said with a faint but saddened smile.

Anna pulled the umbrella from Seras's hands so she could hold it higher. Her smile didn't fall, but it also looked quite mysterious at the same time.

She remembered it was raining that day too. The angels were crying, and God was mourning, but…who exactly was he mourning for? Was it for the civilians…or was it her?