Moonlit Memories

Bloodborne is property of Fromsoftware.

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Djura stared at the bucket of beast blood in his hands, hands trembling as the heady scent wound its way up his nostrils. Rabid roars and sorrowful sobs pounded against his skull, and all the while the world around him burned as his masters up above stared impassively at their callous handiwork.

It was only when his grip slackened, and the bucket fell on his foot and splashed his legs with blood that he broke free of the memories.

Djura cursed, bending down and rubbing his foot. The bucket had tipped over, pooling on the roof of the clocktower. He groaned, but knew he had no one to blame but himself and his own blunder. Thus, welling his up resolve, he lay down on the blood, and rubbed it into his skin, his hair—let it seep into his bones.

A disgusting practice, he could admit—made even worse by the fact that bits of stone were biting into his skin. But, although the Beasts of Old Yharnam no longer attacked him, drenching himself in their blood was the only way he could walk among them without forcing them away in fear.

He lay on the ground, staring up at the sky, the sun ambling past its zenith. There was a change in the air, a sort of cold, terrible energy that sapped the warmth from all things. There would be a Hunt tonight, he just knew it. He only hoped there would be no paleblood dreamers this time around. Regular Hunters were bad enough, but that lot…well, he knew just how destructive they could be, whether they meant to or not.

Djura sighed and rose to a sitting position. He ran his fingers along his bloody torso—good, the blood had dried. He stood up, making his way to the gatling gun mounted at the edge of the roof, his clothes folded neatly atop it. After dressing, he stared out at the distance for a long moment, down at the burnt ruins of Old Yharnam, and then up at the so-called 'splendor' of Yharnam proper. Reckless fools—couldn't they see they were heading down the same ash-laden path they'd tread once before? That the Pthumerians, the Lorans, and who knows who else, tread?

He sighed, hanging his head low. "Oh, leave it alone, you old fool. You've done away with that life." Besides, the Healing Church would never let such terrible events happen again—not when the common citizens were a spark away from a city-wide riot.

Besides, if things became truly terrible, Master Gehrman and his dreamers would step in to clean up the mess.

"aaAAagghhHH!" a mournful voice shrieked into the sky, followed by others. Djura jerked his head towards the noise. There, through the smoke, he could see five Beasts—four hovering around one, who swiped its claws angrily at them.

Djura moved quickly, sliding down the ladder from the roof and carefully leaping across the rooftops. When he reached the ground, the small group of Beasts had grown to a sizable pack. A few leered and growled at him, but, whether by sight or scent, recognized him and let him pass.

He gently pushed past the crowd, coming before the source of the chaos. It—no, he—was a smaller Beast, crouched on the floor, pressing his clawed hands against his heads. He'd quieted to whimpers, but his face was frozen in a horrid mixture of anguish and rage.

Djura scanned the Beast—aside from scratches where he clawed his own head, he wasn't injured. A quick glance at the crowd—annoyed, fearful, but not angry—showed no injuries. It was then that he spotted it, hidden just behind the crying Beast—a torn, withered doll.

Immediately, Djura understood—poor thing was beset by memories.

With a sigh, he settled into a squat, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Hello? Can you hear me, lost as you are?"

The Beast jerked towards him, beady eyes widening in recognition. And fear. He scrambled away from Djura with a hysterical cry, curling up into a ball over the doll.

"Hey, hey." Djura moved forward, hands held out. "It's alright, it's alright. It's just old Djura—you know me, don't you?" The Beast stopped trembling but bared his fangs. When Djura got too close, he swiped both claws out in retaliation.

The meager attack did nothing more than cut against Djura's sleeves, but he stopped all the same. "Okay, I'll just be right here." The Beast calmed a touch, but still bared his fangs. Djura sighed. "I don't know if you're far enough along to truly understand me, but please know that I am sorry." The Beast stopped, letting out a curious croon. Djura dipped his head low, baring his neck to the Beast. "I am a Hunter—I should have protected this place, not burned it to the ground. I should have stood up to my masters, not stood aside and let them order me around like an actor on a stage. I—" he gulped, fists clenching into a knuckle-white grip. "…I should have done more for you—all of you. I should have fought for you to be recognized for what you are, should have rallied others to my cause. But instead, I've locked you all down here, with nothing more than horrid memories and a decrepit old fool to call protector."

He heard movement but didn't look up from the ground. Maybe this one would attack him? A few still did, even after recognizing him. He didn't begrudge them their anger—welcomed it, even. The emotion was a sign of the humanity deep within them, however dark and volatile.

The Beast hovered over him, panting heavily. He could see the shadows of his arms rise; claws poised to strike. Djura clenched his hands into fists and steadied his breathing. But no blows came, no claws tore into his flesh.

Instead, the Beast dropped to his knees, arms falling over Djura's body as he howled in anguish.

Djura moved quickly, sitting down and pulling the Beast into a hug. "There, there," he said in a soothing whisper. "It's alright, let it out." The howls grew louder, at least half of the crowd around them joining in. "Do not hide your sorrow, your rage. You are lost, confused. But you may yet find yourself again."

Djura wasn't sure how long he sat there among the Beasts of old Yharnam, silent as they wailed away, mourning their pasts, present, and future. But the sun had started to set when the crowd finally dispersed. He maintained the embrace until a couple other Beasts came over, nuzzling the one in his arms.

Eventually, the Beast released his grip, and rose to join the other two. He planted a hesitant, slobbery kiss on Djura's face, and left with a short wave. He smiled back, staying in place until they disappeared into the nearby building.

Some days, he wondered what he was doing with his life. Who he was fooling. Deep down, he knew that his mission was a fool's errand. He was no scholar capable of discerning the mysteries of the cosmos. No doctor unlocking the secrets of the body. At the end of the day, he was just a stubborn old fool clinging to his last shred of hope

But moments like that…they made it all worth it.

He took the long path through the ruins of Old Yharnam back to the clocktower, smiling at the little hints of humanity within the Beasts around him. The way the held each other, the way they 'spoke' to each other, even the way they tried to greet him.

But as he neared the entrance into Old Yharnam, he noticed something odd about the Beasts. They stared up at Yharnam proper, snarling at each other and shaking their heads. He paused, focusing his hearing. Old as he was, it was hard to call upon the great strength the Blood Echoes of hunters past granted him. But he was able to hear it, the cries of beasts and men being suddenly silenced from above…Could it be?

Djura hurried along the path, past the still-smoking and dilapidated ruins. He took a brief moment to inform the last of his Powder Keg Hunters of his suspicions—he didn't know what he did to inspire such loyalty, even as he led them all to their deaths. The man didn't speak—Djura wasn't even sure he could—but there was a hard light in his eyes as he hid himself in the smoke.

By the time Djura reached the top of the clocktower, the doors leading up to Old Yharnam had opened up. Djura could barely see them, but their smell cut through the acrid smoke in the air. Moon-scented…

Djura took a deep breath, and bellowed, "You there, hunter. Didn't you see the warning? Turn back at once."

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A/N: This was done as part of a fic exchange for reddit user u/Phonix_Firefall. It was fun to write.