Hello everyone. Almost a month and a half to go for this chapter.
Life is a bitch and has kept me busy.
Before you complain about the length of the chapter, you should know that I'll post a second one within a week, it's almost finished translating and is only waiting for a passage from my Beta-Reader.
Apart from that, enjoy reading!
Chapter 17 : Talking Rest.
Their return would only be in two days. Everything had gone much faster than they could have imagined.
The intrinsic panic of the locals towards them was heavy to say the least, and by mutual agreement they had agreed to stay not far away, upstream of the small river that ran not far from the village so as not to be disturbed, but to keep safe from the monsters.
Aiz sighed as she remembered the look of panic on the faces of the locals when they had returned with the bloody bag containing the evidence of their mission. She couldn't quite understand them... Why did they react so wildly to something so trivial as the death of monsters?
Perhaps it was the fact that they had returned covered in monster blood and smelling of the stench of death? Or perhaps the cold, empty stare of his teammate...
The hunter in question returned, putting his long-wet coat, gloves and travel boots on a branch to let them dry. For the first time, the blonde could see him in light clothing, no longer covering his entire body, and could discern the young man perfectly under the thick fabric protection.
Blond hair, blue eyes, but what quickly attracted her gaze was his right arm, covered with several scars and various burns blending into a strange parchment-like web on his unhealthy white skin. It reminded him of the discussion they had had on the way in and reminded him that the person in front of him was probably not even from somewhere near Orario.
The hunter noticed the sharp look in the young woman's eyes and waved his hand questioningly.
"Where did that come from?" she questioned softly, indicating one of the long, curved marks on his flesh.
The hunter shuddered, which was not missed by Aiz.
"I..."
"If you don't want to talk about it, I don't have to," the blonde let go, pushing her head slightly to the side. "I wanted to get to know the one I'm training with a little better."
The hunter scratched his arm uneasily, hesitant.
"Compromise, only if you tell me why you joined the Loki Familia."
The blonde reacted quickly by clenching her fist, looking at the hunter whose calm re-garden betrayed an internal unease about her own question. Aiz calmed down quickly, she only knew him through their training, but she could tell that he had lived, like her...
She nodded as she watched the hunter relax slightly. He sat back, thinking about where to start.
"I suppose my story is the story of all the people of Yharnam as it began. I was a sick man with a will to live, so the cure turned out to be a way out of my pain. My brother and I took it, I held the cost and paid the price in kind, he didn't... Blood, a river below and I dove deeper, but he didn't follow me. I clearly understood the hunt and followed to escape the past. Then when the time came, I had no choice but to pay the price to the minister by becoming the worst thing in the world for one night.
His fists were clenched in on themselves, she could hear it in his shakier voice. He regretted his every action, and though she couldn't understand what the hunt was, the cure or the minister, she understood the most important thing, he had sacrificed much to become what he was and had lived more than he should have yet stayed alive to remember it.
She nodded, understanding his words. It couldn't all be said at once, but a lot had already been said.
"My turn I suppose?"
The hunter calmed down as he nodded his head.
"I joined the Loki Familia when I was seven years old. As a new member, I acted as a supporter of other adventurers while training to become more skilled. As time passed, I became better. The reasons..." She looked down at the ground seeing flashes of light and cursed herself monster. "The Black Dragon..." she spat. "He took a lot from me..."
She began to tremble.
"Calm down," Ashton said softly. "Don't say any more if you don't want to. I don't need more."
She looked up and felt a hand run quickly down her back to soothe her.
"I... I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I wish I could say more but... Too much should remain hidden."
Ashton sighed.
"You've lost a lot from that monster... Is that where your willingness to come out stronger to kill him comes from?"
She nodded, looking down at the ground.
"How... How do you not think about what you saw and keep fighting?" she questioned in a hurt voice.
She couldn't compare the pain of the two, but she suspected a certain similarity, at least enough for him to understand. All the rage she had, that she'd let out with her Avenger and during fights with monsters, how could she control it to better use it?
The hunter looked up at the sky as the sun set.
"I was like that when I first started hunting. Killing abominations, slaughtering them even if some of them were intelligent, and indulging in anger that you think is legitimate. Among hunters there is a theory that came from one of our own that translates into seven stages of our mental state: Shock of loss, sadness of abandonment, legitimate anger, uncertain bargaining, nervous recognition, attempt at renewal and acceptance of the inevitable." Looking at the young woman he sighed, "At the end of it all we are left with a bitter acknowledgement of what has been missed and lost in all the stages. We only continue to hunt because we have nothing else to acknowledge our existence.
Feeling the horrible sensation of abandonment, she remembered her first metaphor; he was just a set of embers about to die out while she was a blazing ember.
Was she going to be like him one day?
"Where did you come from to be like this?" questioned Aiz feeling the same sadness she had known before.
"I have already answered well. From Yharnam, the city of fools."
Ashton's sleep was restless, to say the least, looking at his tremors. His dreams were typical of a hunter's hunter, of blood, flames and steel.
A squad of church hunters appeared, weapons in hand, patrolling the streets. Ashton clung to the wall, wheezing, his eyes filled with tears.
He had escaped.
"I told you he was unstable. You pushed her over the edge," growled one of the men.
The one who looked like the leader replied nonchalantly.
"He managed to break the lock on his cell. We don't know when or how, but we need to find him.
Once again, a hunter had escaped. It had become more regular over the last few weeks, as if something was going to happen. The infection was growing in the slums, and the patients were repeating the same phrases over and over.
"He's calling us..."
It was going to be a long night for the hunters, but Ashton didn't care.
His brother, where was he?
The elder followed the trail further and further, as fast as he could.
How did he know?
He himself was not sure. He just knew where to go, which way to go and what to do. A kind of predator's instinct, if you will. As he approached the edge of one of the city's overhangs, he saw him.
Alexander, his little brother whom he had always tried to protect. His blond hair, so similar to his own, looked dirty, stained a scarlet colour. When Ashton looked down at the boy's feet, he saw that several corpses lay there, bodies of hunters from the Church of the Remedy.
Guts had been scattered on the ground in a macabre mosaic of incomprehensible symbols, while arms, legs and remains of all kinds had been distorted to create a kind of pulpit sculpture in the image of some god.
Thus, a head had been thrust back on a pelvic bone, a rib cage ripped open and filled with the legs of another body, while higher up, at the very top of this evil totem, glowing with fire, the hilt of a sword had been shoved directly down a woman's throat. He recognised it; this was their father's sword. A sword symbolising his honour. A weapon symbolizing their past nobility and their service to the King, certainly as a musician, but also among the best.
He understood.
Screams rang out further, and he saw his brother's deformed arms. Skeletal branches held together supernaturally. The muscles protruded directly from the shoulders. But most of all, in his hands, a huntress.
A claw fell horizontally across his throat, severing his artery, making him scream in agony, choking on his own blood.
The woman's neck bled rapidly and deep, red, rich blood spilled into the air. It was like a bloody fountain.
Yes... Just like the beer fountain at last year's spring festival in town.
Ashton held back his tears and quickly pushed the thought away, as if he feared the fountain would not stop.
The boy did not move. Not even when blood splashed on his face and entered his eyes as his brother began to hang his new part on his bloody task. Not even when a torn man's finger flew and stopped in front of his feet.
He just stared with his dead eyes, staring and marking in his mind the surreal visions. He finally looked forward and saw the worst of what he could think. Even the scene of carnage was nothing compared to what he saw.
His brother raised his eyes, revealing mocking, dirty orbs of unrepeatable guile. Before him was the absolute evil that the Church of the Remedy had so often warned of.
The elder took a few steps backwards, unable to comprehend the scene before him, before his foot struck an object. He looked down at the ground and saw a head, eyes wide in silent terror staring directly at him.
The lifeless bodies... No... The mass grave...
Ashton pulled himself together, perhaps there was hope?
"Alexander, it's me... Ashton. Listen to me. You're... you're a little confused. We'll sort this out."
"B-Big-Brother?"
The muffled, muffled voice of the beast that had been his little brother made him shudder, but he showed nothing. The two shifty blue dots in the beast's eyes seemed to regain some humanity. Then it disappeared again, and the creature growled at Ashton.
The bell struck midnight and the wolf looked up to the sky. The cursed green glow of the moon seemed to make the open carnage even more violent than before. The beast approached the edge of the ledge, which was at least fifty metres from the ground.
"N-No... Alexander. C-Calm down." he tried to say in a soft, soothing voice to replicate the effect of earlier.
"I-I hear his voice..." the boy began as he approached the edge. The beast that had been his brother looked up at the crescent moon sitting in the clear sky. "It's calling us.
He raised his hand, trying to grasp the distance. Ashton widened his eyes, running with all his might towards it, trying to catch his little brother.
Even if he was a beast, even if he slaughtered dozens of hunters, he was his only family, his only hope left.
"Flick."
A simple sound. A simple sound. Faint, just enough to break the silence of the dark night. A banging on the rock. Not a scream, not a whisper, just a two second whistle and that sound, yes, the sound that would mark the boy's years to come.
A simple "Schlap" against a hard surface. A small form lay on the ground, shocked, with its buttocks on the floor. This was not possible... This could not be real?
"Is this a nightmare? Yes... This is a nightmare..."
From the edge, he looked down at the growing puddle below. And the inert form in its centre.
In the distance, on the roofs of similar buildings, semi-human forms rained down, feeding their unholy blood to their lunar deity.
Then a scream. A hoarse scream of a young girl from behind a house, accompanied by the pleasing moans of an older man. The screams ceased abruptly, turning into the hopeless sobs that overflowed from one person witnessing her helpless end.
"This is as far as it goes."
"Cut it... bigger... open then."
Ashton recognized the voices of two of the hunting party. The moaning started again as the boy heard a sound. A meaty, sharp sound. A bloody sound.
"Stop it! I beg you! Please stop! It hurts! It hurts! Mother, please! Please help me! Make it stop! Make it stop! Stop it!"
"Shut up, you noisy bitch. You saw your mother die. Do you remember? You're monsters!"
A slapping sound in the air, silenced the protests but not the screams. Every second was like an hour in this image of Armageddon. Several minutes later, the shouting stopped.
"This one is done. It smells like rotten blood. Moving on to the next house."
"Yes... Like sheep," thought the boy.
This night hunt... It was like being a sheep. He saw the metallic tint of a gun on the ground, it had belonged to a hunter.
Slowly, he approached it and took it in his hands, using it as a support, he climbs the pulpit structure that his brother had built, retrieving the sword in his higher point. From this point he could see the street better.
Several hunters were going through the houses, forcing them, taking out the inhabitants who were judged infected.
So, this was the Hunt?
A cruel laugh came from his mouth followed by an infernal desire to kill, to take revenge, to make the foul beasts pay for taking his brother.
A simple voice sounded behind him.
"Another lost child?"
Ashton stirred. His head was lowered to the ground, his cloth covered his face, and his hat hid his eyes, leaving only thin blonde strands. She saw him shaking, shivers and slight spasms running through his body.
She heard his voice muffled by the cloth.
"Let us pray, let us wish... to partake in communion..."
His words seemed to choke, as if they were like a prayer. His breathing had become more wheezy and his tremors intensified, as if he was overcome by an icy cold.
He repeated the same mantra over and over, moving from side to side.
What should she do?
She hesitated and finally saw the hunter's shadow moving. Then a rancid smell invaded the air around her, like a kind of morbid smoke.
At his feet, the dark shape seemed to move randomly, as if fish were sliding inside, then she saw it change, taking on a bestial form, eyes opening on several parts of the shadow's body.
Aiz's eyes widened, panic gradually taking over. No matter what happened to Ashton now, she could tell for sure that something was wrong. By instinct, the swordwoman took her sword and stuck it directly into one of the eye sockets.
A faint, barely perceptible creak sounded, followed by a silent complaint.
Ashton's trembling form began to calm down. The eyes that had opened closed for the most part, leaving only a minority. But instead of looking at her as before with barely contained hatred, he stared at her with a certain doubt and almost friendly curiosity.
Slowly, they began to turn into the shifting form of Ashton's shadow before disappearing completely. Aiz, who had been holding his breath, could not help but release a long, stressed sigh as he felt the air return to its true nature.
What had just happened? Was this what Ashton was talking about when he said he was from a crazy town?
It had been a simple awakening for the hunter, the nightmares of the night had been difficult it seemed. How ironic that he could remember so little of it...
In front of him, lying in his sleeping bag, was his teammate. The previous day's discussion with Aiz came back to his mind.
"To be free from the nightmare and find a better world..."
He thought about Gerhman's last words. He had already decided to help her to be stronger, but could he go beyond that initial training?
Mentally, he considered himself stable, but was he stable enough to help someone who was going through the same anger he had experienced?
Looking at the blonde, he couldn't help but hope. He could try... For what he had to lose.
A warmth went through his heart as he stared at the young woman to whom he had opened. It reminded him of the thing he felt towards his brother, a strange sense of familiarity.
Next chapter next week, don't worry about that.
As you've read, I'm bringing Aiz and Ashton closer and closer together. It's going to take some time, but it's happening little by little! I'm sticking to softer things, discussions and an attempt to develop the interractions between the two in fluid ways so that they don't get thrown together so easily. I want this to make some sense for a while.
In the meantime take care of yourself and your loved ones.