I wasn't sure what captured my attention first: the chilling air, the icy stone floor, or the high-pitched sound of the wind circulating in the room I had wound up in. Whatever it was coaxed my eyes open and allowed me to see that I was in a church of sorts: an old, dilapidated church that had a massive hole in the ceiling, random chunks of stone scattered throughout and more than a few destroyed pews.
'Huh, guess the locals don't care for interior design or its upkeep.' I mused, slowly sitting up from my sprawled position on the floor: no doubt I had been tossed again, and leaned back against one of the only stable-looking pillars that sat at the top of a small set of stairs that had been covered with an oriental rug, crossed my arms over my chest and waited. I didn't even bother trying to escape, rather, I had the sneaking suspicion that if I tried: the fucking parasite around my neck would strangle me like a living choke collar.
'Go ahead and try it, you little shit: I'm sure I can find a way to get you off.' I thought, scowling at the thing as it shifted into an apparently more comfortable position before settling, not unlike a contented cat…albeit a grotesque, slimy one. Before I could even reach up to try my hand at yanking it off: my sensitive ears caught the unsteady 'shuffling' of someone with very slow, very uneven footsteps: as if the source of the sounds were drunk, wounded, or both. Without even moving from my position, I looked beyond the torches burning on the walls to the broken, yet still functional doors of the church: cringing slightly as they opened with a whiny, grating 'shriek'.
Cracking my eyes open again, I immediately squeezed them shut again as a god-awful scent took over the crisp smells of Autumn and dusty stone as the breeze shifted and pulled in the tear-inducing reek of rotten fish, moldy cheese, and low tide: I could hardly even see through my tears well enough to properly take in the details of the source of the horrid stench that blended together and clung to the stranger like a second skin. 'Fucking hell, I'm going to suffocate!' I thought, trying my hardest not to gag before quickly deciding to shift over and make damn sure to keep whoever this was far downwind from me at all times.
Once I managed to blink the tears away, I was finally able to find the source of the absolutely disgusting stench: and I was decidedly glad that my hood covered as much of my face as it did. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the man that was slowly shuffling into the room was also infected: but the poor man was not like 'Mother Miranda' or me, no: he was one of the unfortunate souls that had the bare-minimum amount of control…those who were nearly mutated beyond all recognition. Like many that I've seen over the course of my existence, during times when the very idea of freedom and knowing that anything other than pain and concrete were a just a childhood fantasy, a pipedream: this poor man was cruelly deformed and forced to shuffle and stumble with the weight of a large hunchback-like growth that quivered and jiggled with the 'bubbling' and 'gurgling' noises he was making.
Trying my hardest not to stare as a wave of pity slammed into me like a truck: as I took in the fact that he went to great lengths to hide his obvious, physical mutation by covering himself with an old, tattered, dark-purple cloak and a matching hood with a crown of bones that had been crudely tied around the hood to hold it in place with a piece of rope. 'Poor sod, I'd have put him out of his misery.' I thought as he slowly made his way over to the pillar that I had chosen to lean against: only to nearly scramble backwards in surprise as he lifted his head and spotted me. "Oh! I had hoped you were 'Mother'." he said, disappointment lacing his watery voice: sounding as if he were trying to talk with water in his throat and somehow managing in pulling it off.
Wrinkling my nose as the smell intensified as he spoke, I held my breath and shook my head: reluctant to speak and accidentally say something I didn't mean to this sorry excuse for an infected. "Haven't seen you before, are you a new 'Sister'?" he asked, not taking the hint that I didn't feel like talking: but wasn't going to be cruel to one who's obviously self-conscious about himself, if his curled and submissive position was any indication.
"That's what she says." I said, unable to keep the 'growl' of displeasure out of my voice: thankfully the man at my side didn't seem to pick up on it as he was too busy sending me a wide, disturbing grin that was full of crooked, jagged teeth. "Oh! Hello there! Mother said to meet her here for a surprise! Mother always has the nicest surprises!" he said, letting out a watery 'giggle' that reminded me of a constipated dolphin trying to laugh: before he began fussing and digging around in his cloak for several seconds, before pulling out a chunk of malformed cheese that carried a rotting scent that made my eyes water.
"Would you like some? Its my favorite!" he offered, holding out the crumbling, moldy cheese in a purple, blistered, webbed hand that had so many tumors: that they could have been easily mistaken for malformed scales. 'I can tell.' I thought, barely managing to hide my disgust and sudden urge to vomit. "No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, though." I managed, trying very hard to keep myself from recoiling as he shoved the entire hunk of cheese into his mouth with disgusting abandon: I wasn't even sure if he even bothered to chew it before swallowing it down with a bubbling 'giggle'. "So kind! I like you! The others always laugh at me and call me names…but not you! You're my new favorite Sister!" he cried, seemingly near tears as he shuffled with barely-contained joy at the idea of being spoken to as an equal for quite-possibly, the first time in his life.
'Hideous as you are, you have enough problems: no need to add to them.' I thought, deciding to at least act civil with this pitiful infected: especially when I knew what being on the receiving end of that kind of torment felt like. Once he had managed to calm himself, he began 'shuffling' in excitement without ever taking his eyes off the door: reminding me very much like a dog as it waited impatiently for its master to return. Watching quietly, I noted that in addition to his mutation: he was very dimwitted, as if his mutation took more than just his original appearance and wouldn't be difficult to outsmart, should it come to that. Once the wind changed direction and finally allowed me to breathe easier: my sensitive ears picked up the sound of another stranger approaching the church, this time: 'stomping' sounds replaced the sounds of my current company's 'shuffling', as if the newcomer was either very large, or very pissed off.
'Are…Are those heels?' I wondered, grateful that my hood hid my look of confusion as my brain made the connection: even more so once the double doors opened again, and allowed the source of the new sounds inside. 'Holy…shit.' I barely managed to think, quickly remembering to snap my jaws shut as they dropped at the sight of the woman as she ducked her way into the dilapidated building. The first thing I registered was her nearly impossible size: standing at an intimidating, nine feet tall: it suddenly made so much sense that every move and sound she made would've been exceptionally noisy and exaggerated. The second was her appearance: she was absolutely gorgeous, with the only exception being the fact that she had covered what exposed skin she had in an unnecessary amount of make-up that caked in several places.
The third was her attire: and it seemed that she had walked right out of a 1920's Opera House, with an elegant white dress, large black hat, black heels with matching gloves and black flower brooch pinned to the left side of her collar: she was easily identified as an infected with all the mannerisms of a proper Lady. Taking in the rest of her attributes, I mentally cringed at the massive size of her chest: and immediately felt pity for her, made my back hurt just looking at her. And it was with this observation, that I was immediately glad that nobody knew who she was where I came from: she would very easily and very quickly have a rabid fanbase a mile wide, and I absolutely did not need to deal with the outcome of that.
'Well…that explains why there's a chair fit for a giant.' I noted, feeling more-than-a-little stupid for not making that connection sooner: making eye contact with the woman as her sharp, blue eyes caught sight of me and flashed in confusion: before looking me up-and-down with a sneer of disapproval, before curling her lip in disgust as the infected at my side started wilding waving his hands and joyfully laughing at her: as if his mouth couldn't say 'hello' fast enough. "Sister! Sister look! We have a new member of the family! And she's nice! She appreciates me!" he rambled, making me hold my breath again and tried very hard not to gag or cringe away from the horrible scents that wafted off him with a vengeance.
"I can see that, Salvatore. Do try to calm yourself before Mother Miranda arrives, no need to embarrass the rest of us with such excitement: whatever ungodly hour you arrived here this morning will be more than enough." she said, not bothering to keep the distain from her Victorian accent as she took her seat and made herself comfortable, yet sat with a regal pose that screamed she was raised as some sort of royalty before becoming infected. "Sorry Sister, I was just too excited to sleep! Mother always gives us the best surprises! Didn't want to waste a minute in case she got here early!" he replied, damn-near bouncing with happiness at the thought of apparently spending some extra time with Mother Miranda: making me feel even worse for 'Salvatore', as I realized just how far gone his mind actually was.
"And it is apparent that our new 'Sister' can't stand the sight or smell of you and your rancid reservoir: I'm honestly surprised the poor dear hasn't become ill yet, it would be a blessing if she were blind with no sense of smell as far as you're concerned." she stated cruelly, making the poor man at my side 'wilt' in sadness in shame: as if he had also expected to be physically hit alongside that statement. "Ah! I'm sorry Sister! Please don't be mad at me! I…I won't do it again! I promise!" he suddenly cried, trying hard to hide in his cloak: before turning around as quickly as his body would allow and vomited a vile, algae-green acid that ate away at the floor with an audible 'hiss'.
"Salvatore! Do calm yourself! The last thing Mother Miranda needs is to arrive to witness you in this horrendous state! Cease this vile behavior at once, you absolutely abhorrent excuse for a 'Man-Thing'!" she scolded, doing nothing but making the situation worse: causing my lips to tug downward in a frown as it was obvious to me how hard he was trying to do just that. "I'm not upset if you can't help it, so don't worry about it if it upsets you that much. I can deal with it." I said, trying to help calm his distress by being nice: since that seemed to work best in my short experience with him already. "Nonsense, dear: do not waste your time with filth. Come, take a seat by me: the air is far cleaner the further away you are from our filthy excuse for our 'Brother'." she coaxed, gesturing to an unoccupied pew to her right with a predatory smile on her face.
Sending an apologetic look to Salvatore, I stretched my gloved hand out in a calming gesture towards him before following the woman's 'suggestion' and made myself casually comfortable. Though I didn't admit it out loud, she wasn't lying about the air being easier to breathe over here, despite her flowery perfume making me want to sneeze: but I didn't want to risk upsetting the panicky infected even further by drawing attention to the migraine his stench was giving me. Sending me a smug 'smirk', I could tell the woman picked up on that fact and was quite pleased with herself over it. "There now, isn't that better? I could see your distress from here: not something someone of your standing should be fretting over, so this will be your seat from now on: should Mother Miranda allow it." she said, not hiding the fact that her tone had changed to a mocking one as she glanced over at Salvatore and his pathetic 'sniffling'. 'Now I know why he called me his favorite.' I noted, before meeting her gaze with my hidden one: though it felt as though she could see my eyes through my hood, and I wouldn't be surprised if she somehow could.
"A bit harsh, don't you think? Its not his fault his appearance is the way it is." I replied, shocking Salvatore out of his distress as the woman frowned at me. "Gracious, do not entertain him, nor spare him a second thought: I assure you he isn't worth the trouble." she dismissed, barely sparing him a glance as she pulled out a telescopic holder and lit up a cigarette: but was kind enough to tilt her head towards the hole in the ceiling to spare my sensitive nose from any further assault. "You may call me 'Alcina', my dear: I govern 'House Dimitrescu' alongside my three daughters, you simply must pay us a visit: I'm sure they'd love to meet such a…delectable little foreigner." she introduced, making me raise an eyebrow at the flirtatious tone as she looked me up and down again: and while I was no stranger to both men and women flirting with me because of my appearance, her tone suggested an ulterior motive. 'Well…that explains the predatory look.' I thought, catching her hungry gaze and came to the conclusion that she did in fact: see me as little more than food.
"I assure you: it wouldn't be smart to consider me food: wouldn't want to…upset 'Mother' by eating a 'sibling', now would we?" I stated, easily picking up on the fact that she clearly held Mother Miranda in very high regard and was quick to use it against her with very little remorse, somehow keeping a straight face and forcing back the acidic bile that tried to force its way up my throat at the very idea of referring to that sadistic bitch as my 'mother'. "No, I suppose not. Such a shame, truly: but if it can't be helped, I can always settle for my usual stock. Mother Miranda's word IS law, after all." she replied, actually sounding regretful as the room eased into silence again: but it was not a comfortable one. Keeping my eyes on both occupants, I subtly adjusted myself so I could keep the doors to the church in my peripherals: as I did not like having my back to the door with unknown, possibly enemy infected lurking god-knows-where.
Glad the fresher air assisted my healing rate with getting rid of my migraine, I sent a silent apology to Salvatore before taking the time to enjoy what little peace and quiet I was allowed to have: even the shrieks and screams in my head had turned down the volume, which hardly ever happened and for that, I was grateful. My few minutes of solace didn't last long, however: as my sensitive ears picked up the sound of another approaching set of footsteps: only this time, the sound of quiet, hesitant footfalls was accompanied by the sound of a high-pitched voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Glancing at 'Alcina', I noticed how she apparently also heard the newcomer: as she took a very long inhale of her cigarette and released it with a very low 'growl' of annoyance. Before I could even ask, the doors 'squeaked' open again and allowed the newest occupant to step into the room: where I was once-again, immediately glad that my face was mostly hidden from view.
Stepping between the pews like a wraith: was a figure dressed head to toe in black mourning garb, to the point where only the figure's pale hands could be seen. In the figure's hands, however: was a very old, very dirty doll dressed in an aged and moth-eaten wedding dress that had more than its fair share of tatters and stains rubbed deep into the threadbare fabric. "Come on, Donna! Just one foot after the other, the chair's right there! There ya go! See?! Its okay!" a shrill, grating voice squealed: and at first, I had thought the voice had come from the figure…until I realized that the figure wasn't the one talking, it was the doll. 'What in the fuck?' I thought, blinking multiple times to make sure I wasn't high on something or other that would possibly explain why the hell I was suddenly seeing the 'Bride of Chucky' in all her horrifying, porcelain glory.
As the figure slowly made their way to a pulpit chair on Alcina's left, the doll in their hands twisted her head in a disturbing angle and spotted me from over the figure's shoulder: allowing me to see that she was literally two-faced, with the right side being a plating of a darker wood or metal that was held to the porcelain with a single screw to the middle of her forehead. As soon as her glass, pale-white eyes registered my dimly-glowing form sitting in the shadows, those eyes lit up with an even more disturbing gleam: before dropping open her hinged mouth and started 'clapping' her hands like an overly-excited child. "NEW FRIEND! NEW FRIEND! LOOK DONNA! WE HAVE A NEW FRIEND TO PLAY WITH! AND SHE LIKES DRESS-UP TOO!" the doll screamed, very-nearly blowing my ears out as I saw stars and white-noise for a good minute and a half as the doll wriggled and struggled in the figure's grip: demanding to be put down and waddled over to me as fast as her stiff little legs could carry her. "UP! UP! I WANNA SEE YOU!" she screamed again, 'yanking' surprisingly hard on my pant leg: causing me to look over at Alcina with a raised eyebrow, silently asking if this was…normal for this thing. Watching her roll her eyes in confirmation, I shifted my hidden gaze to the figure in black: watching as they seemed to shrink in on themselves as they sat in their seat, only to stiffen and slowly raise their hands in defense as their own hidden gaze met mine.
'Another defensive one, I see.' I noted, easily figuring out that they were a timid and shy infected, making me send them a subtle lift of my hand in the same calming motion I had given to Salvatore earlier: sending a twitch of a smile as they gradually eased out of their defensive posture. "Honestly Donna, not everyone is out to cause you harm: you really must learn confidence one of these days." Alcina scolded, causing the figure to shrink in on themselves again: never saying a word, but their position spoke for them very clearly. "She's nice, Donna! Don't be scared of her! See? She likes you too!" Salvatore chirped, pausing in his fidgeting just long enough to say so, making the figure: 'Donna', relax even further. 'I do?' I thought, keeping quiet as I observed my new company: trying to get a read on them and picking out any potential weaknesses, should any of them suddenly decide to turn hostile.
"HEY! HEY! LISTEN TO ME! I SAID. PICK. ME. UP! OR ARE YOU DEAF ON TOP OF DUMB LIKE 'UGLY' OVER THERE?!" the doll yelled, making me wince at the volume before resting my left arm on my knee and bent my elbow, resting my cuff and glove near my mouth: making my face difficult for her to see even if she were on my lap. "Keep screaming at me, and I'll superglue your mouth shut." I quietly swore, glaring at the doll for several, long seconds before reaching my right arm down and allowed her to climb up and get in my lap. Apparently, indulging the somehow-sentient doll was a poor decision on my part: as the doll immediately began poking, prodding, tugging and just being a general nuisance as she went over every single inch of my attire that she could possibly reach.
"OH! SUCH PRETTY PRETTY FABRIC! WHAT IS IT?! WHAT IS IT?! ITS ALL GLOWY! DONNA! WE HAVE TO HAVE SOME! THESE BUTTONS ARE SO SHINY! I CAN SEE MYSELF IN THEM! WE NEED THESE TOO!" she cried, sharply pulling on the buttons on my cuffs: trying to pull them free and do god-knows-what with them. "Honestly Donna, have some semblance of control." Alcina said, seemingly just as exasperated with the doll's shrill screams and antics as I was: and my ears felt close to bleeding at this point. "Angie." Donna said, her voice so soft and quiet, I almost couldn't hear her over the ringing and pressure in my own ears. With a visible pout that a doll shouldn't ever be able to make, the doll: 'Angie', took a final look at my body suit and hopped down from my lap, returning to Donna without a fuss and finally shut the hell up.
Sending a nod of 'thanks' to Alcina, I subtly shook my head to clear my ears of their ringing and eased into silence once again: the only noise from my new 'companions' being the idle 'giggling' of Salvatore and Donna and Angie talking quietly amongst themselves, most likely about the 'fabric' that the doll was so enthralled with: as I heard 'glowy fabric' and 'pretty buttons' repeated several times over the course of five minutes. "Now. What shall we call you, dear? It is obvious that Mother Miranda has gifted us you as our new Sister, but has said very little about what to expect from you, you know us: but you have yet to return the favor and it's only fair that proper introductions are in order." Alcina said, drawing everyone's attention to me as I met their gazes evenly and knew the question was going to pop up eventually.
Before I could even open my mouth to respond, however: my ears caught the sound of yet another stranger approaching the church: this time, the footsteps were heavier and accompanied by the sound of a merry tune being whistled through the breeze. 'That's what, four now? How many 'new friends' does Miranda expect me to make today?' I thought, already done and over with this little bullshit game of hers: as there was only so much aggravation I could tolerate in a single instance, and being thrown into this entire situation was getting very old, very fast. "Ugh…Mother Miranda grant me patience. Apologies, Sister: but unfortunately, formalities are going to have to wait…and I do so hope you have the tolerance for the 'petulant obtuse', you'll soon need every ounce." she sighed, taking the longest drag off her cigarette that I've seen her take yet: telling me that she was highly annoyed, and I had an instinctive feeling that the cause was just about to walk through that door.
As soon as I opened my mouth to ask what she meant by that, the doors to the church opened once again: however, unlike the other few times it allowed the other infected inside, this time: the doors crashed open with a near-deafening 'squeal'. Gritting my teeth as the aged, metal and wooden doors slammed forcefully into the stone walls with a reverberating 'bang', I suddenly understood what Alcina had meant: and I haven't even seen the cause of such an unnecessary racket yet. If the deafening noise from the newcomer's entrance wasn't enough to capture my attention, their scent absolutely would have: the others, with the exception of Salvatore, mostly had softer scents that didn't tell me too much about what they did: the only thing in common was the scent of flowers. This one, however: caused a frown to tug harshly at my mouth at the vast difference it posed from the others, and not in a very positive way.
'Corpses, graveyard soil, metal, oil, sweat, cigar smoke…you certainly are a busy little bee, aren't you?' I thought, taking mental notes and knew immediately that this one was no stranger to hard work: but the scent of rotting corpses had my virus tensing with unease as a million different scenarios flashed through my brain at the potential reason why that might have been. Tilting my head in the direction of the approaching footsteps, I caught sight of the newcomer and honestly couldn't help but take in their details with a critical stare. Out of all the new infected I've seen in the span of an hour, he was the most normal looking in terms of outward appearance: standing at 5'11, he looked as if he had been cloned directly from 'Father Gascoigne' and stepped right out of 'Bloodborne'. Wearing a tan trench coat that reached down to his shins, stained, white button-down shirt, a well-worn, black fedora that covered his shaggy, grey hair that was long enough to reach his shoulders, circular, black sunglasses, black gloves with a matching pair of boots and medium-brown pants: the attire of a 'Hunter' only solidified that observation.
But it was what he carried with a familiar, practiced ease, that held my attention the longest: slung over his right shoulder without any sign of a struggle, was a massive hammer that appeared to be made from nothing but metal scraps: with the entire engine of a motorcycle serving as the thing's head. 'Jesus. Talk about overcompensating.' I thought, barely keeping my mouth from saying that out loud as he finished his merry tune and lifted a cigar that was secured loosely in his left hand. Taking a long drag from it, he sneered through the smoke at the others: regarding them as if they were nothing but shit on his boots as he leisurely made his way to the pew next to mine and plopped down into it as if he owned the place, allowing me to see the light-brown leather holster strapped to his left thigh, and several necklaces hanging from chains around his neck: the largest of which being some sort of spring. Lounging back in his seat without a care in the world, he rested his right foot over his left knee and rested his left arm along the back of the pew: allowing his ashes to pile up on the seat, much to Alcina's chagrin.
Taking another drag, he raised a hidden eyebrow as he caught sight of me: making me narrow my own eyes at him in return, especially when I somehow knew he was sizing me up and judging my appearance. "So, who's the 'Glow Stick'?" he questioned, voice hinting at a subtle accent that I couldn't quite place as he looked me up and down with a hidden look of distain: bearded face twisting into a mocking 'smirk' as I gave him a flat, deadpanned look of my own from beneath my hood. "This 'Glow Stick' has a wide variety of lethal attributes at its disposal, so if you feel like playing roulette with your life: keep talking shit." I growled, baring my teeth in a scowl as he threw his head back and laughed: as if I had told him the funniest joke he'd ever heard in his life.
"Well, god-damn! You sure got a pair on you, huh? Got some real fucking nerve threatening me, looking like that! And here I thought I was only going to have to deal with the usual crew of freaks and 'Lady Super-Sized Bitch' over there, sure as fuck made my day!" he laughed, drawing a 'whimper' from Salvatore, a 'snarl' from Alcina, and made Donna curl in on herself again. Just as soon as I opened my mouth to retaliate, Angie let out a shrill, demented laugh of her own from across the room: jumping from Donna's lap and racing back over to me as fast as her stiff little legs could carry her.
"OH! SHARP TEETH! SUCH POINTY POINTY TEETH! LET ME SEE! LET ME SEE!" she yelled, apparently catching a glimpse of my fangs from where she sat, and demanded to have a closer look: causing the newcomer to raise an eyebrow and curl his lip at the annoying doll. 'If you were to smash her with that hammer…I wouldn't be mad.' I thought, glaring down at Angie as she ignored all my subtle attempts to keep her away and climbed up my leg and into my lap. "You have three seconds, Angie." I warned, looking over at Donna: silently telling her to call the doll back before I did something…unfavorable to her. Despite Donna's best efforts, Angie continued to ignore all attempts of removing her from my personal space: hellbent on climbing up my middle and prying my mouth open to see what was inside.
With a near inhuman 'growl': I raised my right hand, hooked my middle finger into my thumb, and 'flicked' the doll directly in the center of her forehead: the force sending her flying off my lap and skidding across the floor with a high-pitched 'wail'. Before she could even stand up, the newcomer doubled over with a loud, boisterous laugh: highly amused by the doll's punishment, damn-near 'howling' as she climbed to her feet and lunged for me with an enraged, demented 'screech'. "YOU STUPID STUPID MEANIE! I'LL TEAR YOU TO PIECES FOR THAT!" she screamed, making my ears ring as she lunged for me again: only to be shoved away by my foot. When she tried two more times, she got even angrier: especially once she saw I was putting in the bare-minimum effort and still kept her away without an issue. Only when she tried biting my shins, did I react with any actual effort: snatching her by the head in my right hand, I kept the pressure on in a steady grip, paying hardly any mind to Donna as she quickly rose from her seat with her hands raised in a timid attempt to pacify me.
Tilting my hood down, I made direct eye contact with Angie in a bone-chilling glare: making it crystal clear that I was NOT in the mood for any further bullshit from any of them. "Enough." I snarled quietly, effectively shutting the newcomer up and catching the squirming doll's undivided attention. Apparently seeing something in my stare that obviously made her think twice, she dropped open her hinged mouth and struggled to lean away from me: bouncing off the floor and scrambling back to Donna as I dropped her with an aggravated 'huff'. 'Anyone else want to fuck with me right now?' I thought, glaring at each of them: challenging them to test what little remained of my patience, seemingly satisfied when nobody moved. "Ha! Girl's got spark! I like you kid, takes a special kind of spine to talk shit to a 'Lord', let alone threaten one! Pretty fucking refreshing if you ask me." the newcomer said, taking another drag off his cigar and gave me another appraising look: one that carried a certain weight to it that I couldn't quite place, especially when I couldn't see his eyes.
"Certainly, you realize the repercussions that will befall you once Mother Miranda knows of this? Once a meeting is called: we are all to obey Mother Miranda's wishes and demands without question, which includes civility." Alcina explained, her tone dropping to sound as if she were scolding a disobedient child instead of speaking to a fellow adult: little did she know that I honestly didn't give two shits and a pixie-stick about what Miranda wanted. "Who fucking cares? It was funny as shit! Not like you would know anything about that, with the flagpole called a 'stick' up your ass! Way I see it, Miranda wouldn't give two shits either: what with having to put up with your constant, brown-nosing bullshit." the newcomer said, not quite sticking up for me: no…this was a deliberate jab towards Alcina herself, I was just the template for it.
"Mother Miranda certainly would care for our new Sister's fatuous decision towards Angie and will most definitely issue the proper punishments that she sees fit. Not like a vacuous fool such as yourself would know of such things, Heisenberg: what with that rusted, decrepit scrapheap you call a 'Factory'." Alcina retorted, glaring down her nose as 'Heisenberg' slammed his massive hammer down into the stone floor with zero effort and jumped to his feet: an angry 'snarl' twisting his face into something more…wolfish. "The fuck did you just say to me, you fifty-foot bitch?!" he yelled, clearly an infected with a very short temper that took things literally and personally…not unlike someone I knew, a long time ago. "Must I repeat myself, or has my vocabulary rendered your understanding and comprehension to fall even lower?" Alcina repeated, voice tight as she rose to her full height: towering over Heisenberg, but the man obviously wasn't bothered by the height difference as he strode over to her and stood boot-to-heels with her, leaving the rest of us to watch and wisely stay quiet.
"You go right the fuck ahead and stand up: all the more satisfying when I knock you on your ass!" he snarled, raising his hammer one-handed in a threatening gesture: leaving it no secret that if they were to come to blows, he'd aim for her knees first. "Go ahead and try it, you petulant child: I will slice you to ribbons before you even get close." she growled, joining Heisenberg in losing her temper: yet neither of them paid me any mind as I suddenly perked my head up: catching the mixed scent of human and crow as it wafted in through the hole in the ceiling. 'This should be interesting.' I thought, casually leaning back and got ready to enjoy the show that the pair of arguing infected were completely oblivious of.
"ENOUGH!" the voice of Mother Miranda yelled, taking form as a murder of screaming crows flew in through the hole in the ceiling in masse: breaking the two apart immediately. With all ten wings flared, Miranda glared harshly at the two: much like a mother would to her fighting children, which got the desired effect as they shrank back in submission and refused to look her in the eye. As she stared them down, I decided to use my hidden eyes as a means to take in the finer details I doubted I'd be able to normally get away with. Alcina had the nerve to look every bit as embarrassed and ashamed as a little girl getting caught snooping in her mother's purse: complete with stammered apologies and half-assed excuses. Heisenberg though…while I noted that he also appeared apologetic, something about his stance seemed…off: from the grip he had on the handle of his hammer, to the way he clenched his jaws shut, hinted that this one was feeling more than he appeared.
'Quite the Showman, aren't you?' I mused, able to pick out the nearly-invisible tells that this man was still highly agitated and seemed about ready to start swinging, but as much as I could see how badly he wanted to: I could also see how hard he was trying to refrain from doing so, what a little Paradox, this infected was. "Alcina! Heisenberg! Both of you cease this foolishness, now! There are enough matters to attend to without your petty squabbles! Now, take your seats." she scolded, and neither of them had to be told twice as they both quickly made their way back to their original spots without any further arguments.
"Hi Mama! You said you had a surprise for us! What's the surprise? Tell us!" Salvatore cheered, excitedly bouncing as well as he could from his spot directly to Miranda's left: causing her to look over at him with a kindness that appeared to be more forced than genuine. "Calm yourself, Salvatore. You have already met your surprise, everyone: this is your new Sister, 'Shira'. And while her Cadou did not bond with her in the traditional way as it had with the rest of you, she still may prove herself as a breakthrough in our research. As of yet, there's no sign of any negative effects and seems to have adapted to it quite well." Miranda explained, causing me to narrow my eyes at her with clenched teeth: wanting nothing more than to tell her where she should shove that fucking parasite, but somehow managed to keep myself in check and in my seat.
"That so? In that case, give her to me: and I'll finish what you started. And if all else fails, my tests will produce a 'Lycan' at the very least, that's a guarantee: unlike the sorry-ass excuses for 'Haulers' that the rest of these bastards end up with." Heisenberg stated, turning Miranda's gaze to him as both Alcina and I glared heatedly at him in unison: but for two very different reasons. 'If you even think about it, that hammer of yours is going to find a brand-new home.' I mentally snarled, covering up a 'growl' with an exasperated 'sigh' of annoyance that had thankfully gone unnoticed. "Ugh, you? What use would you have for her? As one who clearly needs to be taught 'Mother Miranda's Law': it would be more befitting for her to accompany me to House Dimitrescu, and as a woman, she already falls to my jurisdiction for work if she cannot find her place. However, should her testing fail to meet your standards: my daughters and I shall deliver to you the finest Vintage made from her filtered blood for your grievances, Mother Miranda. The rest shall provide for House Dimitrescu, should you allow it." Alcina stated, making me tense with indignation as the woman had the sheer audacity to fucking 'smirk' in my direction, as if she expected to get her way without issue.
'Excuse me?' I thought, fighting off the migraine that had started to come back with a vengeance: as well as my desire to tear something apart…preferably something that could scream. "I hope you get indigestion, you bitch." I snarled, keeping my voice as low and as quiet as I could: fisting my hands in my lap as I tried very hard to focus on something aside from what my virus was demanding I do in retaliation. Apparently, despite my best efforts, I wasn't quite quiet enough: as Heisenberg looked to be fighting off a grin by chewing on his cigar with a 'snort' of amusement disguised as a half-assed cough.
"Nonsense, Daughter. To condemn your Sister to such uses will be nothing but a waste. I have other uses planned for her, should the Cadou prove to be another failure. However, as you are an 'Outsider', Shira, and have no estate to your name: you are free to claim the 'Stronghold' as your own. And if the odds are in your favor: you will be provided with a task of your own, should you prove yourself useful." Miranda explained, catching everyone's apt attention as soon as the word 'Stronghold' was mentioned: even Heisenberg sat straighter in his seat as I felt the eyes of the other infected on me. Ignoring them, I stared right through the eyeholes in Miranda's golden mask and glared at her with all the hatred I could spare: forcing myself not to bare my teeth at her as her yellow eyes shined in amusement at my simmering rage.
"That isn't going to be a problem, is it, Shira?" she questioned, tone demanding perfect obedience without any form of complaint. Feeling my shoulders rise at her silent challenge, I refused to answer right away: feeling a twinge of internal satisfaction as her feathered wings slowly puffed up, the dark feathers rising alongside her apparent dislike for me challenging her in front of her 'children'. Feeling multiple holes being burned into the side of my head, I decided to 'Bite the Bullet' and play along: as there wasn't any point in further challenging her in such a small, confined space with four other infected of unknown capabilities to contend with. "No, Mother." I said, spitting her demanded 'title' as if it were the most toxic venom in existence: and while I didn't even try to hide my hatred for this entire situation this time, it didn't seem to bother Miranda in the slightest.
"Excellent! You'll find the Stronghold on the outskirts of the valley: and while you are prohibited from entering the 'Village', you may depart early in order to get yourself acquainted with the route. In the meantime, I have business to discuss with your siblings: so, you are dismissed. And I do hope to meet with you again soon, it would be most unfortunate if this were the last time we spoke: you are quite the interesting one, and would be dearly missed if you should be struck with misfortune before you even reached your destination, wouldn't it?" she said, causing me to straighten my spine and square my shoulders at her obvious threat as I rose to my feet: the outer rim of my vision flaring to a faded-orange color, changing the very color of my surroundings: making it appear as if I were wearing a pair of orange-lensed goggles as the virus responded to my internal rage. Without even giving a response, I turned on my heel and made my way to the doors with long, purposeful strides: tilting my hood down so none of the others could see my furious glare and bared teeth.
Feeling the virus struggling against my control, I threw open the doors and slammed them against the stone as a testament of just how I felt about the whole situation I found myself in. Cracking my jaws open in a 'snarl', I wanted nothing more than to shred the parasite from my neck and grind it into mush as it tightened its grip in warning: but wanted to be far out of anyone's sight in case any of my abilities decided to make themselves known in the meantime. Without even bothering to check for unwanted eyes, I took off in a slow run and jumped up into the trees with the speed and grace of a veteran free-runner: running along the branches and followed them in the direction of the large, crumbling structure in the distance, heading towards the newly-identified 'Stronghold' and what would be my 'home' while Miranda had me chained here…if I didn't give in and listen to my instincts and rend the wings from her body and beat her to death with them, first.