Category: Resident Evil Village
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, mention of torture, Blood
Chapter: 12
Copyright: Characters & places © By Capcom, Plot & OC´s © by me
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The energy that in the end had been expended into his sister had barely been enough to finally allow her regeneration to catch up with all the damage she had suffered, so that when they moved her from the bath into her own bed there were at least no more wounds marring her skin.
Yet Moreau knew that it had been far from enough, as new growth-spurts seemed to drain her empty again before any progress towards waking had been made. By the end of the first week of her rescue, he was certain that their mother was slowly giving up on the elder Dimitrescu's survival. Their entire family had at that point more or less moved into the large castle, taking turns to stay with its' mistress. Even Karl, though he seemed to want to hide exactly how worried he was.
By the end of the second week, he was quite close in agreeing with her. His sister looked like she was proportionally nine-months pregnant, which considering her size meant her stomach was large enough that one of her daughters could have curled up in it. Despite that, she felt lighter than he had ever felt her... not that he had often had cause to lift her to begin with. Her limbs had turned near-skeletal, every last reserve she had devoted to keeping her alive.
Resting his hand on her arm, he felt like he could break it just by a bit too much pressure. At least she still seemed to cling to life, but as for how long that would last her at this rate? He couldn't tell and was pretty certain that none of the others wanted to even try either.
He looked up at Donna slipping into the room, mourning garb seeming so much more fitting to her surroundings these days. "Your turn?"
"Mhm..." She nodded lightly, gliding over to the bedside. He couldn't see her face, but he could see the shaking of her shoulders. Rising from his seat, he slowly started dragging it to the side of the room. In light of Alcina's splendour, he had essentially claimed the chair as his own so that any ruination of her possessions was limited to a select few items. He didn't want her to get angry at him for forcing her to throw out half the furniture in this place.
The Dollmaker didn't even bother with getting herself a chair, instead sitting down on the bedside to cradle one of their sister's clawed hands.
"Will you be alright?" He rejoined her after having dragged the chair into its' designated corner.
"Mhm." One of her hands tightened around the skeletal shape.
He knew her history, they all did and he somehow doubted that she'd be alright. But since there was precious little he could do for her however, he only gently patted her shoulder before turning to leave her to her grief.
Only to rush back before he had even hit the end of the hallway at her scream. Considering he was not exactly the fastest on dry land and several other people had some form of flight in their repertoire, he was not actually the first to reach her.
In front of their horrified eyes, the bloated stomach of the Dimitrescu matriarch was convulsing, expanding and shrinking rapidly as if a large hand was using it like a stressball.
Mother Miranda seemed only frozen in horror, even as the convulsions moved on to the entire body, Alcina arching of the bed by the force of near-devoured muscles, head thrown back into her pillows as her mouth opened in a silent scream. Golden eyes had snapped open, staring unseeing at the intricately carved headboard.
"Mother!" He couldn't quite tell which of her daughters rushed forward first, but before she had even reached her mother, the other two were already following, clutching their only parent like she was a lifeline.
The bed shook, old wood groaning under a strain it had never been meant for. Even with their own substantial strength, the triplets could do little more but ensure that their mother didn't fall of the bed.
Salvatore recoiled a bit from where he was standing at the heavy tang of blood suddenly filling the room, blankets being painted red so quickly he was left to wonder if she was not bleeding to death in front of them.
"No!" That seemed to unfreeze their mother at least, the older woman rushing forward in a cloud of raven's feathers to grasp her daughter's head. "Alcina!" There was only panic in her voice as she cradled it with both hands, heedless of the blood that started near-gushing from the open mouth. "No... Draga mea, don't you dare..."
He was not entirely sure if either she or the triplets even noticed the collapse of her eldest, bloody stomach deflating as something emptied from it, leaving a pulsing mass between where her legs had to be.
Moreau felt glad that the blankets were still covering it, since he did not even want to consider what the thing had to be. Probably the Apodean Nymph Karl had told them about, but considering the havoc it had wrought on their sister, it could be little good... which was a somewhat ironic opinion considering the experiments their entire family had regularly performed up to this point.
The blanket became dislodged from Alcina's form even more than her convulsions had done when the thing between her legs tugged at it, sucking in the blood-coated part. Thin, long tendrils of something pierced it, hooking into the expensive silk to shovel it down.
At least this the four women on the bed noticed, looking wide-eyed towards the footend of the bed.