Category: Resident Evil Village
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, mention of torture, Blood
Chapter: 43
Copyright: Characters & places © By Capcom, Plot & OC´s © by me
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"Hello?" A soft voice filtered into her mind. Blessed be...
"Third." Frederika abandoned her grandmother just like that, picking up the bowl with Ereina and moving to the prone woman. Around her were their aunt and sisters, but also a small pile of dolls, carried here by castle-servants. The doll in wedding-dress was the only one actually sitting upright, arm and leg in her lap.
"Am... third?" It would take the Nymph a bit to fully catch up on matters.
"Yes." Ereina shifted her blobby form so that half looked out over the bowl's edge. Even without eyes, she could see her mother.
"Taste pain. Taste fear." Adrenaline had to be flooding their mother's body, adrenaline and all those other hormones that were released when injury happened.
"Yes." First settled between her elder sisters. "You must gentle. Nibble. Take your time."
"But... that will take long." It was opposite of everything they had been designed for. They were supposed to gain mass quickly, devouring all that was available. Surely that extended to before birth?
"Would you rather Mother break?" Second snarled, phantom-tastes of pain and dead and suffering filling her body.
"Mother?" Third echoed, the stomach area of the Dimitrescu Matriarch shifting as the Nymph beneath it did. The triplets flinched at the sight, one of them whimpering softly.
"Yes. You are in Mother." First sharply stated, setting down the bowl against the white form. "We want to keep Mother. Gentle."
"Mother." The new Nymph repeated, as if testing the sound of the word.
In answer, Frederika cast forward her memories. Ereina promptly joined in, rising from her bowl like she once has risen against her older sister. They were probably overwhelming their sibling, but neither wanted a repeat of previous times.
First remembered too well her repeated fear when bodies died around her, the continous panic of 'will this be the last one?' and the horror when she realized that she had not been a one-off.
Second remembered her terrified disbelief at her mother's healing outpacing her even at her fastest uptake, the damning evidence that she would only suffer one, but even at the bare end could do nothing to save that one.
Neither would let Third deal with either option. Third would have as kind a growth as they could manage, for both itself and their mother, even if that made it take months.
"Gentle." Third whispered. "Yes. Gentle."
"Yes." Both elder Nymphs agreed, Frederika's amber hand hovering above the blood on the front of the dress. "Nibble."
"Nibble." The newly implanted Nymph repeated obediently and vaguely, she wondered if seniority in their mindscape did give control. She really must figure that out at some point.
Ironically, Third would perhaps be the best of them, once born. Unlike First, whose powers were weak from repeated relocations between mothers, and Second, who was physically underdeveloped, if all went well, Third would be strong and developed.
"Well?" Looming over them, their Grandmother looked down in worry.
"Third will gentle. Take time. Nibble." Frederika answered, resting her hand down. "Must hope it enough."
"But some pain will remain?" Their uncle asked from where he was resting, looking at them.
"Yes. But less. Far less."
"How much longer can you keep her down, you think?" Mother Miranda turned to their aunt, one of her hand briefly brushing the curls she had formed on her head. The older woman seemed not to notice how the curls cracked under her touch, breaking even from that light pressure. Part of her wanted nothing more than to conserve mass and join her sister in being small, but she also did not want to leave this form again.
"The pollen is almost gone..." The black-haired woman answered softly. "Not much longer. Not here."
"I suppose we'll find out quickly then." The Priestess actually whimpered at the prospect, taking a deep breath and gently nudging aside the pile of dolls enough that she could also sit beside their mother.
Their mother woke slowly, their aunt doing the utmost to ease her back into wakefullness.
"Donna...?" Gold eyes blearily blinked upward. "What...?" A large hand moved upward, trembling as it settled on the blood-soaked dress.
"How do you feel, draga mea?" Their grandmother leaned over, one hand cupping her daughter's cheek.
"..." The older Dimitrescu remained silent for a while, blinking some more. "Just... just a bit sore... What... happened?"
"Ask sibling gentle." Frederika spoke up in answer. "Ask it slow."
"Oh..." The white-clad woman carefully sat up, wincing only a little bit, supported by her three eldest. "I see. Than you, mica mea bijuterie."
"Will... will this be enough...?"
"I... I think... I might manage for the most part... like this." Alcina Dimitrescu settled both hands on her stomach. A clawed hand settled comfortingly on hers, looking dwarfishly small in comparison.
"Biggest emergency, we overdose some poor sod on painkillers and feed you their blood." Their metal-wielding uncle suggested. "That should get some in your system."
"I hope you are volunteering." Their mother weakly joked, frowning a bit.
The eldest Nymph frowned as well. "Mother tired." That, and she could tell there was broken pride in the golden eyes.
"Yes."
"Then you ought to rest, fiica mea." Grandmother pointed out, closing one hand around the still damp arm. "Get out of these ruined clothes and have a good rest. Tomorrow, we can see to dealing with our guests."
The last two words were said dangerously low, with untold promises of torment behind every syllable.
"I would like that." The old matriarch conceded, struggling onto her feet.
"Good."