AN: Trigger Warning: if you're not comfortable with graphic depictions of violence, please, save yourself by not reading :)

I would like to apologize for any inaccuracies, Ive never played the game but I've studied the wikis, cutscenes and dialogues. We're in Headcanon territory rn but hopefully that helps.

Thanks! :D

You're about to encounter a fuckton of symbolism. I like meanings. In. EVERYTHING! :D

NOW LET THE OPERA COMMENCE!


Summary:

'My heart strings broke and it was me

I pull, they stretch infinitely

In the summer silence, I was getting violent' -Glass Animals-Mama's Gun


It had been a long time coming. In this land where monsters ruled, one was born. Her proclivities weren't new, however. The violence, her life, everything led up to now.

Revenge.

She always knew she was a monster, it was only in this time -this moment- that it was forever sealed.

It was a long time coming.

Fauna pried his ribs open with force, listening to the sharp crack of bone. The knife had made the first part easy, but the next, needed hard work; work she was willing to put in. She had already kicked his chest in, shattering the bone. All she needed was a steady, strong hand.

Her eyes darted to the knife, spying the handmade wooden handle and floral engravings. It was a special knife, her special knife, and it was being utilised the way it was meant to be.

Too fast for him to reach for his gun, too sharp for him to continue on.

The cabin began to reek of blood. Pungent, metallic scents coiled into the old wood, soaking in the smell eternal. Kneeling on the creaking floor, was a monster, who looked up from her butchery to spot a grand sunbeam leaking through the smudged windows.

Unseen by prying eyes, she had ripped her way to the cabin on the outskirts of the village; a difficult burden made sweet by the fruits of her bloody harvest. The path was solitary, the same path she was told to use.

Serves him right.

This was a village of curses, after all, blood was no new happening. She had seen it herself, dyeing the blissful snow a reddish-pink in more places than she could count. Another rib cracked at her vicious handling, moments away from the prize.

He was still breathing, but too slowly to warrant life; a death rattle was approaching and she acted faster, picking up the still-dripping knife next to her. Fauna's grip was sure, white-knuckled, she cut his arteries, feeling a hot spray of blood leak through her fingers. Her mahogany hair turned to crimson in the low firelight, partially slicked back by the fluids she dug through.

Yes, she would give in to the primal anguish that plagued her life; the earnest fire sparked in her distant youth.

Yes, she would.

Yes. You will.

The cuts were precise and clean, a steady hand, a surgical chaos.

In her gore-stained hands, she held his heart aloft to her face, staring at the way the last heartbeats made forcible pumps against her fingers. In this land, monsters were born, they lived among the frightened populace and culled the meat they desired.

Fauna licked her lips before drinking deep of the muscle like an unholy chalice. The pulpy flesh slid against her teeth; the blood ran down her chin, onto her chest and lap. It pooled below her, first in small drops, then it swam towards each other, creating a red mirror to her own ruin.

The seconds turn to minutes, several to be precise.

One sip is left.

She was starving before this killing, for revenge and from legitimate hunger. After she killed, she was simply starving. After the last drop soaked into her mouth, her ritual was complete.

Yes, sated of her empty stomach and boiling vengeance but she had looked upon the line crossed and sprinted.

A monster was born.

With a careless toss, the dry heart slid to the floor, landing with a squelching plop . An empty vessel, no longer useful.

Fauna didn't bother to wipe her mouth or any part of her drenched body. Instead, she stared at the artwork she created; a halo of bone and flesh lay in clumps around her prey. The sun shines even brighter, reflecting off the snow to magnify its cause.

Finally. There was peace in the cabin.

Finally. He was gone in every way she dreamed of.

His legacy had been cannibalised.

Bracing a hand on her knee, she stood up before bending quickly to swipe her special knife from its horrid resting place. Fauna brushed a hand through her hair, staining what has already been stained once more. She smiles very slightly.

Her father stares back at her with permanent fear etched in his dead features. She feels powerful and safe in this hell she's concocted.

This cabin in the woods beheld terror before -her father had seen to that- but this would be the last time he darkens the door with his iron-fisted brutality.

It was her time now.

A promise unspoken had been fulfilled.

The piercing cold weather would ensure the body remained well-preserved, especially after she throws him to the river tonight. He would finally disappear under the teeth of a different beast.

Poetic justice.

For now, she licks a drop of blood from her fingers; a beast with blunter teeth but the same rotten heart as the rest.

She would finally be able to say goodbye to this village for good.

She wanders over to the fire, setting down the knife reverently before cupping a log in her hands and pushing it in. The wood is engulfed by flames, and like the dying breaths of a man that doled out unwarranted pain, it too became devoured by the primal elements.

Fauna moved to sit by the hearth, legs akimbo to each other as she warmed her hands. The caked blood, already drying, started to flake off and sear in the heat.

Maybe for just a while longer -just a little while longer- she could lay in this moment before time made her move.

Her glazed-over blueish hazel eyes were relaxed as if this village weren't a shackle on the necks of its people.

But it chained her family for too long.

The links were severed with finality.


A bead of sweat slipped down from Fauna's hairline, rejuvenating the blood on her face enough to turn the clear liquid to ruby. Her light caramel skin was dyed an unnatural maroon; a warpaint she'd grown accustomed to. There was warmth amidst the soot and ash by her feet.

Just like when she was young. Just like before, when there was no purpose but to live fully, no murder to seek, no anything.

Looking at the fireplace, she thought of home for a moment; the sunny forests of her childhood, the grass and verdant spring. Soon she would return without direction and this murder so foul would remain her first and last.

Revenge was a balm but the medicine ran dry too quickly, like her father's heart. The prey was quartered, signalling the end of the spanning hunt.

But the immoral hunger rattled her cage.

A beast named Man with its quailing blood was paramount to the capture of stags. Bitter and stale was the taste of her former doe-eyed prey; a hunter catches wildlife but a monster catches men. Something in her ignited when she drove the knife into his ribs. Something that was never disclosed till she grappled the ultimate sin to the ground and drank its blood.

Closure but at what cost?

Fauna's clunky, stiff outfit almost resisted her movements but she trails a finger over her special knife for guidance, seeking its calming, gleaming edge for wisdom on what to do next.

A gentle quiet, save for the laughter of crows, settled on the horror house.

Shut the hell up, sky rats.

Fauna closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

A sudden pounding at the door caused her to spit a stutter of coughs, her calculations scattered, her mind buzzing with that burning cold rage. There was a gruff, muffled voice rippling in-between the loud thuds. A spike of panic rose but she pushed it down; now was not the time. She was still blood-soaked, standing next to a beyond grim murder.

Incriminating.

Nightfall was too far away to feed him to the river in silence. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he was supposed to disappear under the water; eaten by the creatures.

Just like the crime he committed long ago.

Fauna had lost track of time, this fledgling killer; too sedated by a first-time high. Hunting Man was different from hunting stag, different from what she was taught.

Deer and wildlife possessed no companions to chase her down; Man did.

Something she thought this encounter would have been staved off by the intense, distant privacy of the cabin and the anti-social behaviour of the villagers.

Why now?!

Fauna paced around to the beat of the thuds and shouts, which seemed to be getting louder. Her hand reached out for the knife before steadying and plunging it into a leather holster affixed to the side of her pants. She smooths down her coat, hiding the evidence under the layers, before scrubbing her hands through her hair.

She was in no state to receive visitors. Why did it have to be now?

"OPEN THE DOOR OR I'LL BREAK THE FUCKING THING!"

She winced defensively as a harsh male voice sliced against her ears.

"WE KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO HIM! WE HAVE EYES FOR SCUM LIKE YOU! YOUR PLOT ENDS HERE!"

They were watching her? She never even set foot in the village. Her task required secrecy and she stuck to every rule, just like she was taught to.

How did they know she was even there?

Hiding in a land of monsters proved a useless endeavour against those under siege at all times.

Fauna paced the room as the door began to splinter. She could just kill him.

Yes, she could certainly try.

A few more fists began to beat on the door. She realized, at that moment, that she was no prolific murderer, she could easily take just one person -one drunk person-, but many people? That would be utter suicide.

"WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE! WE KNOW WHAT YOU FUCKING ARE, MONSTER!"

Fauna moved around the room erratically, staring at the windows which began to hold the villager's faces; some recoiled violently at the sight, and others -desensitized- began beating on the glass.

This was it. Her first killing and already she was captured. Fauna stared at her hands, not remorseful that she had killed but remorseful for being caught. Would she have to end herself now? Kill one of the villagers if she was lucky and then be killed? It was that or be ripped apart by an angry mob, the products of inhuman torture; they could finally enact their own.

The thoughts sloshed against her mind as the door gave way, allowing a swarm of villagers to encroach upon her sinful deeds.

"You're going to pay for what you've done, devil."

He eyed the contorted body framed by gore and shoved down his reaction deep within his soul. The man stepped forward, flanked by sneering, nauseated villagers, and balls his fist into Fauna's bloody coat.

"You'll see a real beast soon enough."

Red. All she saw was red. Not blood. Just icy-hot rage tickling up her spine with coarse electric shocks. The panic bled into her anger as she lost control with graceless wickedness. Another word slipped out of the man's mouth but was cut off, quite literally, by the incision in his throat.

Fauna's hand was on her knife, shoving the blade further and further into his spinal cord till the tip scraped bone, fighting the resistance as it came poking through the back of his neck. Fat globules of blood dripped off the knife and down his back before he attempted to speak again, then, fell to the floor in a twitching heap.

The villagers backed away slowly from the murder they witnessed. As accustomed to violence as they were, it was different when a beast was trapped in a small room with them.

A desperate monster only knows how to lash out when provoked and no one wanted to be the fodder.

Fauna glared her vicious eyes at a handful of villagers before looking at her knife. There was a punctuating silence, not knowing what she'll do next and yet fully aware. She needed that knife but bending down would expose her to an attack.

An attack that could happen at any moment with a mob this big.

But she need not think anymore.

A sharp noise echoed against her skull as a blinding pain racked her head and travelled down her body. Fauna's vision tunnelled as she whipped around; the butt of a gun retracting from another man's raised hand.

She was slipping into unconsciousness, wondering if this was how it was going to end.

She fades away amongst the war cries of angry peasants, drifting through the pain. Only one last thought escapes through her fluttering eyelashes before it all went black.

This is the end and you did what you needed.


The crows were not lacking in pride. They laughed openly at Fauna's capture and followed the murderer's path to destruction. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a gaggle of the happy bastards circling her crumpled form. Raising her head was a mistake as a keen headache made itself known, stabbing her eyes till she was fully awake. In an attempt to get her bearings, Fauna tried to stand up but noticed her arms and legs were bound by rope.

Ok, this was bad.

Staring at the scenery around her, she noticed the high, ancient walls of an ornate, eerie castle looming above her. It seemed as though the villagers spared her. That or she was truly dead and at Hell's desolate gates, waiting to be eaten by the big man himself. Kneeling upwards, Fauna struggled to pat both bound hands to her side, feeling around for her knife.

The soft hollowness made her blood burn.

They took her fucking knife.

They took your fucking knife.

The firey cold rage began to swell in her head as she forced it down, too much of that feeling could cloud her mind right now. She needed rationality, not the ugly, burning emotions that gummed up its cogs.

Taking a few deep breaths of icy air, Fauna watched the smokey puffs curl off her tongue. The sight made her calm enough to reassess herself. Closing her eyes, Fauna focused; her mind was whirring with possible plans. She shifted her bound legs in discomfort and found a light pressure against her ankle inside the thick fleece and leather of her boot.

A smile rips flakes of blood from her face as Fauna repositioned herself, desperately trying to fumble with a flap that lay flush against her boot. It was a subtle lump; too small a lump in the mishappen clothing to be noticed. With great difficulty, Fauna strained against the bindings digging deep welts into her limbs to free the hidden object.

Using the ground as leverage, she slowly squeezed a hiltless blade from her boot; small lacerations bloomed on her fingers as she fought to hold the item in her grip.

She held the freshly blood-pocked knife in her teeth, moving her head in quick strokes to saw her way to freedom. The bindings began to give; twine erupted from each slice until the last thread hung on for dear life.

And much like a life, Fauna quickly snuffed it.

Umber rope fell to the ground in a small heap as Fauna rubbed her bruised wrists; it was sure to leave a mark, she was bound much tighter and for much longer than she thought. The evening sky was a clear notification of that; a clarion call that told Fauna she needed to seek refuge before the twisted wildlife descended.

Spitting the knife into her hand, Fauna made quick work of the other bindings, freeing her legs with a satisfying snap . Placing the knife blade back into its secret compartment, she quietly reminded herself to stitch the flap closed when she found safety.

The first plan was done. The second was to not die.

Her cloudy blue-hazel eyes met the castle again and her heart pounded a resolute path into her ribs. The village was too far down the mountain to return to and if she did, oh, she would be dead for sure. Should she escape past the village, she'd be lucky not to be dead from exposure, wolves, starvation and God knows what else. Out of all the options, the dark jaws of the castle seemed the most necessary evil.

Taking in a deep breath, Fauna walked towards the doors, summoning the coldest part of her to rip any fear away from the moment. She emptied herself of everything and looped her fingers around the gothic door handle.

And stopped.

Bubbling to the surface, a thought broke into her head; one of many. This was where the village people supposedly left her for dead. Surely, the owners of the castle would be expecting her through the front door. Fauna glanced at the castle's walls; fingers unlooped from the intimidating doors to grip the brick and cobblestone holding up the impressive palace. There was much purchase to be found on the rough rocks and she found the grip easy. Her lacerated fingers stung from the wintery touch but she forced herself through the pain. Nothing worth anything is easy.

If the castle patrons were expecting their prey, then they'll get her; just not where they think.


End Note: Thanks for reading!

Music, to me, is vital to this fic in general so the songs I pick are normally lyrically or compositionally connected to the story.

If you're ok with it, I recommend taking a listen!

Thanks again :)