Summary:
'The wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight
Drunk and driven by a devil's hunger' -Delta Rae-Bottom of the River
"There is no room for mercy here."
Lady Dimitrescu's voice cut clear across the carriage's rattling wheels. Fauna had been staring out the window, watching the full moon closely. The statement drew her from her momentary lunar bliss.
"You do not show mercy or you die, bandit." she says again, her hat in hand, burning yellow eyes fixed on Fauna.
"Is that a threat?" Fauna replies in a low voice, staring the Lady down with a matching gaze.
The wave of a leather glove dismisses the claim, "Unfortunately, no", she puts her hat on, adjusting it to hang over her face, "But it is an unspoken law of this land. To gain respect, you must inspire fear." she looks back out the window, hands clasped one over the other.
"And you're telling me this why?" Fauna replied, her arms crossed loosely, her tone was direct, but not aggressive. It was almost curious.
The village peeked from the tree-line, drawing closer with each hoofbeat.
"Because your fury burns hot. It somehow keeps that broken human body of yours alive. That is why," her smile is barely visible from under the crescent slash of her hat, a gloved hand flourishes her sentence, "I want to bear witness."
Lady Dimitrescu says nothing more as they pass the village gates. Fauna shifts in her seat trying to decode the words. Her leg throbs in sympathetic pain as she looks out the window again, staring at the distant snowy horizon, thinking of the old cottage in the sunny woodlands. The grass, the plants, the rain.
Yasen.
If she didn't come back, it would be his turn and though this was his native land, every step in this godforsaken place was a mortal risk. She didn't know when he would come, but he would.
He will.
And if he did?
She would be the only one left in her bloodline if he died. A chill cut into her barren soul with something other than bloodlust. The feelings broke apart, pushed down again, and again till there was nothing.
The carriage passed over lumpy stone and soil to stop in the village square. People scattered quickly from the ebony vehicle, scrambling to shut their windows and doors. A family escapes into an alley while others run as far as their legs could take them.
Lady Dimitrescu produces her quellazaire, rolling it between her fingers as the unlit cigarette spins in tandem.
"My subjects have been a tad rebellious as of late and need to be quelled. I will be the bark and you, bandit, will be the bite. Do you understand?" she muses, eyeing Fauna's silence.
She was waiting for an answer, the right answer.
Mulling over the question, Fauna leans back. It's not like she had much of a choice, to be honest.
Endure.
"Woof." she says finally, a glint of defiant humour sprinting past her normal hostility.
It was an answer but not the expected one. It wasn't wrong either, it was-
"Silly little thing," a huff of laughter escapes the Lady, her scarlet lips quirk up with a smile before it's gone again, "Don't disappoint, dear. This is your debut."
Short but sweet, the laugh had found its way to Fauna's ears, causing her to look away from the matriarch. Everything about her was inhumanly immaculate; foul and phenomenal.
Don't be stupid. You despise her. Don't let her poison spread.
Cracking open to the world, the carriage doors swing open as Lady Dimitrescu motions for Fauna to move. Carefully, she angles herself out of the booth, taking a footman's hand as she's brought to the earth. The frigid wind whips her mahogany hair like blood on the night sky. Her breath coils stocky plumes in front of her; warmth pulsed off her body, stolen away by the breeze.
Wooden and stone houses surround the square, each one losing the light in their windows; two beasts were at their door and the people prepared for a scorching rapture.
Heel clicks soften under the soil as the Lady herself steps out of the carriage; the flick of a footman's lighter sparks her cigarette.
A burning lantern to match her burning eyes.
Fauna hears Lady Dimitrescu faintly complain before she looms next to her. The hem of her white dress was mottled with soot and dirt. Fauna almost cracks a smile at the Lady's ' horrible predicament'.
Almost.
"I've heard tell that this village harbours…dissent," Lady Dimitrescu announces to the village square, her voice swiping through the air, "So what better way to learn your places than a trial by fire," there's cruelty in her amused laugh.
She stares into the open square, fanning her hand, embellishing and emphasising.
"Where is the man-thing named Gavril," she purrs, "I won't ask a second time."
The man looks up with horror in his eyes, looking around at the other villagers. None will help him, none will walk into the jaws of death for him. He was on his own. They gather to grab him, hauling Gavril out of his hiding place to skid into the dirt near this killer queen.
One sacrifice to save them all.
Gavril attempts to scamper away but Lady Dimitrescu had other plans. Bringing her foot down, she presses her sharp heel against his side, forcing him to remain on the ground.
Fauna watches the monster at work; pristine brutality at its finest. She catches the matriarch grinning, her teeth are bright against her painted lips.
Fauna almost sees a sharpness to them but it was hard to make out in the darkness. Sometimes they were blunt, sometimes…fangs. What kind of beast was she?
"Are the rumours of a rebellion true?" Lady Dimitrescu growls, bending her large frame to shadow him.
Gavril curls into the dirt as a faint shllick rips through the wind.
Tapered metal claws glint in the moonlight and Fauna watches as Lady Dimitrescu lowers the blades to the man's head, tapping the skin enough to lightly wound but not kill. Fauna watches with fascination, listening to the blades scrape against each other; the weapons of a true monster.
What was she?
"I-I don't know. I don't know." Gavril stutters, his eyes fixated on the metal in his skin, "My Lady, I…I know nothing!"
The demoness purrs again, a soft rumbling from her chest, as she pushes the blade a little deeper.
"Of course you know nothing. You're a stupid man-thing after all," she pauses, looking to the crowd cowering in the shadows, "It seems an example must be made of you," Lady Dimitrescu retracts her claws before shouting to the village, "UNDERSTAND THIS! There is no mercy for those who plot against me! You will either CONFORM or PERISH!"
She turns to Fauna, smiling wickedly, "It's your turn now, bandit."
Looking around, Fauna saw the villagers peek at her from their hiding places. Their faces paled in recognition of the ghost they left for dead. She looked at her empty hands before looking at the man.
"Do you know why I chose you?", Lady Dimitrescu hums in thought, glowering at Gavril.
He shakes his head, his breath coming out in shallow, smokey puffs.
She grins before looking down at Fauna, her bitter punishment still doled out to the squirming man, ignoring him completely; a rhetorical question.
"The Duke occasionally notifies me of…specific items he's seen. Yesterday, was one such day," the Lady says to Fauna, "If you have no weapon, then look to this mortal. He has something on his person you desperately want, is that not so, man-thing?"
She digs the heel into his ribs, turning him on his back before stepping on his shoulder, pinning him.
Red. It coated Fauna's vision as she lowered herself to the struggling man.
"You're supposed to be dead," he whispers, his fear turning to anger, "She was supposed to devour you!"
Silently, Fauna pats him down, looking through his pockets before she spotted her precious knife stuffed inside his coat. She holds the blood-mottled wood in her hand, anger boiling under her skin.
A perfect fit.
"You can't kill what's already dead." Fauna replies, straddling his waist before pointing the blade at him.
Lady Dimitrescu observes carefully, her hat and stature bent shadows over Fauna; a tree that shades the desert sun while you dehydrate. She was waiting with the most patience Fauna had seen so far.
A scarlet smirk.
Fauna's face is expressionless as her empty soul reignites with icy-hot hate.
Hate for this man.
She grabs his lower jaw, digging her nails in.
"What were you going to do with my knife?" she seethes, hovering over his face, red hair licking his bleeding forehead.
He doesn't answer, instead, he bites his lip stubbornly before an agonizing scream tears through his mouth.
A vicious heel ground into his shoulder and some villagers hid their eyes at the gruesome torture. A dull crack sank into Gavril's body as Lady Dimitrescu broke his collarbone, the pressure still taut in her leg.
"I WAS GOING TO SELL IT!" he screams through his tears, "to the Duke, I was going to-" he begins sobbing and Fauna feels his tears leak through her fingers.
Mother's special knife.
He was going to treat it like some bauble to hawk for money. He was going to defile everything it stood for.
The infernal rage ignited in Fauna's body, coursing through her veins with rapid heartbeats. Emptiness coiled and finally snapped in her gut. She knew what she had to do.
Ferociously, Fauna pushed Gavril's jaw upwards with the heel of her palm, slicing the knife through his throat with as much force as she could muster. Biting wounds on her fingers buckled under her vice-like grip, reopening some of the lesions. Gavril's heart rate peaked as a soft squirt of blood splattered her maroon shirt, trickling off her chest. He gargled his words, his eyes shining with the fear of death.
Gavril looks into Fauna's glossy eyes and sees his reflection sink into her abyssal stare.
She begins the ceremony, flaying him alive, her knife cutting muscle and veins, a butchery so intense she begins to smile. His sternum is ferally torn and cut to reveal his steaming innards and the ribs she so loved to break.
Releasing her hold, Lady Dimitrescu steps back to take a slow pull of her quellazaire, looking on at the grand opera before her.
Fauna's bad leg begins to hurt but she ignores it, gripping the dirt, leveraging to stand. She puts her weight on the wound and hisses at the stabbing sensation pulsing through her bones. It was bleeding, it had to be at this point.
A practised kick comes down on his chest, again, and again and again. Her thick boots are wielded like a blunt weapon. Gavril's sternum caves; the bones crunching and popping under her frenzy.
She descends on him, a ballad of blood, bone, skin and guts; like twigs in the forest, his ribs fracture and fall under her grip. His heart beats slowly and Fauna pushes her knife into his arteries.
Her stomach rumbles, starving, just like before, just like now.
Precision and speed. With care, she places the special knife down; the ritual continues. The man is rendered like a factory pig, his gently quivering heart in her hands. Blood seeps from the heart's openings and she touches her lips to the spout, tilting her head all the way back, drinking deep of the murder.
Blood flowed down her throat, and what couldn't be caught in her mouth was running over her cheeks, her forehead, her shirt, into her lap and down her arms. The warpaint was reapplied.
Lady Dimitrescu observes the feral culling, golden eyes glittering at the human who saw herself as a monster.
It fascinated her.
She needn't do much to make the experiment a freak of nature.
She already was.
The muscle bore only a drop when Fauna was done; pelting the muscle like a piece of trash. The wooden knife handle shines with a glossy coat of crimson as she holds it in her hand, staring down at the moonlight-soaked crime.
Haloed by flesh and bone.
She did what she wanted.
Her revenge, sated.
Fauna struggles to stand up, bearing the pain of her broken body. A large hand is offered at her eye level. Lady Dimitrescu bends and Fauna hesitates, her arm reaching out before pulling away.
The Mistress remains in that pose; Fauna struggles to rise, her pride too solid to accept. Fingers claw the earth as she tries to stand again, her knees buckling under the strain of her bad leg.
Lady Dimitrescu is a statue, frozen in place, waiting. The Hunteress' Moon gleams upon her; a sign.
Begrudgingly, Fauna grips the offered hand, feeling herself lift with incredible ease.
Like flying.
"Very well done, bandit," Lady Dimitrescu says, thoroughly entertained, "Very well done indeed," she tilts her head slightly towards the carriage gesturing for Fauna to follow.
No one but her brother knew of her grisly art but the Lady looked upon the wrath she unleashed and fed its growth, unperturbed. The village is silent save for the tears of some folk, Fauna looks at them all, soaked in the blood of their kin. She takes one last look at the body and smiles.
The slow journey begins as she limps back to her gilded cage. A cold feeling comes upon her neither from the weather nor rage. She shakes off the feeling and falls into the high of the hunt. Stag and wildlife alike were no longer a fulfilling quarry.
A taste of this rotten fruit called murder, an addiction made permanent.
Crisp, white fabric sponged Lady Dimitrescu's glove as she wiped away the blood smeared on her. Fauna was unusually tranquil. She sighed. Her dark heart said to guard herself against that she-witch but her eyes turned to the hunteress' moon; preoccupied and sentimental.
It encouraged her humanity to bloom in a garden of ash.
"Look, pup," Fauna's mother says, pulling her close while pointing at the full moon.
Little Fauna peered at the grand orb, her brow furrowing in confusion, "It's the moon, mama, I know what it looks like."
With sweet hazel eyes, Fauna's mother looks at her child and smiles, "Yes, but look at it,", she rests her hands in her lap, leaning into her daughter, "One constant in life is the moon because she is life. The sun brings growth but he's impossible to look at and he can burn with little mercy," her voice grows lower, regaling Fauna with slow words, "But his sister is kind and allows us to look for as long as we wish, no pain, no burning. She is a bastion of women and beasts alike, pup, garnering respect where it's deserved."
The leaves rustle as a careful wind blows through their deep red hair, adding to the splendour.
Fauna listens deeply. She always listened, always observed and every word unspoken was stored in her head.
"She'll always remind us that we're alive. So long as the moon is there, we are as well," she turns her gaze back to the moon and her eyes are sparkling with moonlight, "Never forget that, pup. Never forget that you were born to live, to feel everything this world has to offer you."
When the breeze blew again, it tossed up the long grass against Fauna's dress, scaring fireflies into flight, but she wasn't paying attention to that. Something ignited in Fauna's heart as she looked up, dwarfed by the glow and all its shadows.
"It's…it's pretty, mama," there's wonder in her voice, a new wonder she didn't know existed, "I didn't know it could be so pretty."
Fauna's mother wraps her arm around her daughter, pulling her close, "It's the little things in our lives that deserve to be cherished. No matter how big or how small, a treasure is still a treasure. Every moment is precious."
There's no answer from the child as a cloud roams near the moon, rowing in a river of stars. Her eyes awoke with passion; enchanted by the celestial body and everything she represented.
A bump in the road rattles Fauna and with it, goes the memory.
The carriage window was open to let in the fresh breeze and steal away the scent of blood; wispy smoke curled from Lady Dimitrescu's quellazaire before disappearing into the forest. Her hat was by her side with the wind touching but never disrupting her styled hair; respected and feared, even by nature itself.
Lady Dimitrescu cleared her throat, catching the killer's attention.
"Though this savagery suits you, I would rather you not track man-blood on my floors again," the matriarch chided.
Fauna's hands roamed her face, feeling the sticky blood start to dry. Cogs whirred in her head as she dug through her pockets, searching.
A tattered handkerchief was produced, stained with spots, threads and holes. Lady Dimitrescu's severe expression mellows as she recognizes her daughter's cloth.
"Cassandra threw this and called me a pig," Fauna said dryly, "To be fair, I was head to toe in day-old blood.", her brows furrowed as she looked back at the Lady, " But if she calls me a pig again, I'll kick her ass."
From her head, the words escaped, no longer caged in thought, but roaming in speech.
Fauna didn't fight it this time.
Lady Dimitrescu gives a docile scoff, a contradiction to her earlier atrocities, "Don't bother with Cassandra," her hand waves in emphasis, "You won't win that fight but continue to challenge her. She enjoys the thrill of action."
There are no barbs on her tongue nor laughing mockery. The matriarch is honest with her words and careful as if each word were a frozen petal falling into the snow. Whether boredom or genuine interest, Fauna didn't know what brought on Lady Dimitrescu's…leisurely chat.
It was….different.
The handkerchief is held between Fauna's fingers, little spots of fresh blood bloom on the battered cloth. Appraising the item, Fauna puts it down next to her, sighing deeply.
"You're not going to use it?" Lady Dimitrescu asks with no malice. It was a legitimate question.
"This," she replies, holding up the handkerchief for Lady Dimitrescu to see, "has been through a lot, but it was loved enough to be sewn back together…. It's too important for me to use," something shone behind those lifeless blue-hazel eyes and Fauna exhales a large breath, "Emotions…make people do stupid things, sometimes. They make us throw away the things we love."
The Lady quirked an eyebrow at Fauna.
It was the most the experiment ever spoke, especially with such…compassion.
"You want to know, don't you?" Fauna queried with hidden amusement, returning the handkerchief to her pocket, "What I threw away?"
A brief flash of embarrassment coated Lady Dimitrescu's formerly curious expression. Her gaze turned away briefly to save face, but she kept her attention on the killer.
The pause allowed Fauna to speak again, her bloody skin bearing a stark contrast to her tone, "I tried to carve a wooden owl for my mother but I ended up smashing it,"
Silence settled in the carriage as Lady Dimitrescu observed this monster, the same one that brutalized a man moments ago, bear her bleeding heart. And she bore it to her, out of everyone, her. The person that tortured Fauna mercilessly; wounded and insulted her. Humanity was a distant memory to Lady Dimitrescu but its roots were still there, albeit shrivelled from time and the Cadou.
Immortality was a blessing for Gods but a curse for mortals.
No amount of time could bleed dry the grip of humanity.
No matter how hard you tried.
Fauna stared out the window again, pushing down the emotions that came flowing through her stupid mouth. She was taught apathy but she was regrettably born to feel. Such feelings made her weak, open, defenceless. Fauna was staring at the moon again, her voice once again caged when a flash of white appeared in the corner of her eye. Lady Dimitrescu held out her handkerchief, still ripe with man-blood.
"What is your name, bandit?" she asks politely, her voice still firm and commanding.
"Fauna."
A deep hum of thought comes over the matriarch as she turns the name over in her mouth, "Fauna," it's said slowly, wrapped in her terse accent, "Use this, Fauna."
She kept saying her name with each sentence as if to remember the taste of such bittersweet wine, a name she won't soon forget.
The killer reached out her hand hesitantly, the fear of being tricked activating her fight or flight. The touch of leather and cloth brushes the caution away; Lady Dimitrescu's hands were destructive, but they were not cruel in this span of time. A ticklish pain ran up Fauna's arm and she looked at the Lady. There was an unreadable expression on the matriarch's face, one that she'd never seen before and probably never will again.
"Thank you," Fauna mumbled, bringing the handkerchief back to her lap, looking away from those stormy grey eyes.
"Of course." Lady Dimitrescu replied as she returned to her austere self; glancing away from Fauna with no more mercy to give.
Fauna grips the fabric, spying her reflection in the window, she begins to scrub away the muck. The monster looks back, its skin peeling away with every swipe of the handkerchief, vulnerable once more.
Her poison is spreading, you idiot.
End Note:
If you say 'step on me mommy' enough times in the mirror, Lady D will come out and break your collarbone.
I have so many plans for this fic. Ah if only I could yank the operatic, complicated daydreams out my head and just have a fully written fic.
Oh well :/
