School starts tomorrow :( Here's an update just for y'all!
(Sorry, I'll recognize new faves, alerts, and answer reviews next time!)
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As soon as I stepped foot into the gloomy manor, gooseflesh broke out on my arms. It still smelled like small children's tears and funeral home in the front hall, but some of the cobwebs had been cleared away. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"Where have you been all day?" a cold voice asked, no inflection in the tone aside from blatant displeasure.
Sighing deeply, I turned to face the short woman-child that appeared at the foot of the stairs, her small arms crossed and her faded brown uniform wrinkled. Waving away her question, I accused, "Don't you people eat here? And have you ever even stepped foot out of this place? No one here seems to know you exist!"
Immediately, those icy-blue eyes widened and Shelke demanded, "You did not tell the townsfolk of us, did you?" The desperation and hint of emergency in her voice made me want to shudder.
"Uh… Not really? It almost came up, but I avoided the conversation. And what's the big secret, anyways, huh? Why are y'all hiding here in this creepy ass manor?"
She'd given me the perfect opportunity to bring up the question I'd been dying to ask. Ever since Tifa had spoken so cryptically about heartbreak and betrayal and Turks, I was aching to get some answers. The only thing I really knew about the people I was with was that one of them had a serious problem with being "holier than thou," and the other stood about six feet tall (if not more), had razor-sharp fangs, a carpet of fur on its body, and was either schizo, or a complete freak of nature.
Maybe both.
Straightening her posture and smoothing out her dress, the servant woman replied pompously, "That is none of your business, Miss Kisaragi. Now, if you will, the master requests an audience." Giving me no chance to retort, 'Who the hell even says "requests and audience" anymore?', Shelke spun on her heel and retreated into another part of the manor, her chin up as she stalked past me.
The master wanted to speak to me, huh? Well, that meant Vincent was probably waiting on me, and not the Galian Beast. After this morning's episode, I didn't feel as intimidated by Vinster as before, but it didn't mean I wanted to gallivant into his presence and have a heart-to-heart over a plate of scones. Or human limbs. Whatever that thing ate.
Then came the question, where exactly did Vincent expect to meet me? It wasn't like I knew where his room was or anything. And, for the record, this cute little piece of ninja ass wasn't about to skip into a strange man's — er — creature's bedroom alone. My motto was, if you don't act like a victim, you limit the risk of being one.
However, I now could sneak through the manor and have a legitimately good excuse.
But that was where I made my mistake.
Rather giddily, I took the stairs two steps at a time, making sure not to place my foot in some particularly risky looking spots. The second floor windows let in a little of the setting sun's last rays of sunlight, illuminating the stretch of space with a crimson glow. It almost looked like someone had taken a paintbrush dipped in blood and painted the corridor. Freaky.
One of the old wooden doors towards the end of the wing stood slightly ajar, and just a sliver of dim light seeped through. It appeared as though it had been left open for the sole reason to beckon me forward, and after what Shelke had said, it didn't seem like it would hurt to take a peek in. If this was the master's chamber, then I would be taking every opportunity available to do some intensive research. I wanted to know everything about the secrets surrounding this place.
Something about Vincent Valentine, the creepy creature-thing that reverted to Galian Beast, called to me like the moon and the tide. When I first ventured into the basement and found him, he seemed so forlorn. I knew that he harbored great hate for himself, it was apparent in his crimson eyes. Galian Beast acted pretty okay with himself, but Vincent gave off an aura of being far from self-appreciating. His heart seemed wounded. Inasmuch as I feared getting into something I couldn't just ninja-poof out of in a cloud of smoke, that nosy, meddlesome nature within me just had to do something.
Silently slipping through the splintered threshold of the room, I found myself staring into a room that was neither normal nor peculiar. A large bed sat angled in the corner, the sheets of which were bathed in a deep scarlet and appeared softer than satin. A sheer black canopy splayed across the edges and spilled onto the dark wood floor, contrasting with the black velvet rug that stretched in a grand circle across the center of the room. A crimson settee sat at the foot of the bed, and against the wall beside it was a large black armoire. There were no lights in the room, as was expected, only flickering cream candles that dripped wax onto the slender silver holders that were scattered in different places. Aside from an ornate wood coffee table, no other furniture was in the room, and the only decorations in it were sparse.
But out of everything I noticed, my eyes kept returning to one thing.
Perhaps the most peculiar aspect of the room was the large oil painting (or was it acrylic?) that stood proudly over a marble fireplace, its scalloped golden frame protecting the fragile canvas within. In all shades of cool colors, a stunning woman had been delicately painted upon the piece, her presence so powerful that it would undoubtedly steal the attention of all whom entered the room immediately. She had long, loose locks of chestnut hair that waterfalled over her squared shoulders, brushing the low neckline of her graceful white gown and tastefully hiding the valley between her breasts. She had a long, slender neck that was as pale as the moon and a face that was proud and beautiful, its shape like a delicate heart. Her mouth was full and luscious, and her eyes were the color of melted chocolate. Oddly, though, the warm personality her face seemed to portray contradicted the calculating, scheming aura that resonated from her.
In all, the woman was rather breathtaking.
The portrait had enraptured me, and without thinking, I took a delicate step forward and rose up on my tip-toes, my finger tracing the outline of her face. Who was this gorgeous woman that Vincent had hanging on his wall? Had a creature like him been in love once? The idea seemed preposterous.
"Get out!" a voice roared, and pure terror flooded my veins as I realized that I'd been caught. I spun around and faced an enraged Vincent, his crimson eyes glowing dangerously as he shook in fury. He seemed to be fighting something, his eyes beginning to transition to a grotesque shade of orange and then to a vibrant gold, almost like a cat. His chest heaved with every deep, forced intake of breath, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. "You stupid girl!"
Paralyzed by the metamorphosis, I remained glued to the spot, quivering a little as the once animal like beast began to increase in height, its fur retracting into its body as it turned a putrid mauve. Sneaking into this room had definitely been a bad, bad idea.
Never in my life had I been quite so petrified, not even when my mother had been brutally murdered before my very eyes. Vincent had gone from a hideous wolf like being to a man-shaped monster with cracked skin and long, gleaming fangs that protruded from his mouth in a painful looking way, and judging by the look of malice on his face, I knew he was waiting to put them to good use. Then, with no warning, a tearing sound ripped through the room and huge leathery wings sprouted from his back, the force of the eruption blowing the candles out.
What was this thing? It reeked of death, looked like the apocalypse itself with long, gnarled talons that could easily shred someone to bits and powerful arms that could knock skyscrapers to the ground with a simple push. It looked like hell on Gaia.
In alarm, I felt something wet dripping down my face and realized that it was a tear. I hardly ever cried, and if I was doing so now, then my mind was registering the immense peril while my body froze up and shut down, which was not helping me at all. My arms shook by my side as I watched the monster grow nearer, his face infuriated as he closed the distance. I wanted nothing more than to flee from the spot and save myself, but no matter how hard I tried to convince my body to respond, my legs wouldn't cooperate. It was like I was under some sort of demonic spell.
"V-Vincent," I begged, my body trembling as he came so close that I could feel the ice of his breath on my skin. There was no telling why I was trying to plead with him; I already knew that nothing would work. His eyes were so glassy and gone that there was no hope of reasoning with him.
"I'll kill you," he hissed, his voice like a poison. I could almost feel the cold tone seeping into my skin, trying to attack my cells and kill me with just words. I was beginning to believe he could.
"Please don't!" I sobbed, still stuck in the same place, locked in that trance that I couldn't break to save my life, literally. My knees wobbled, and for a horrible second, I thought they'd lock and I'd be done for.
"You came into MY QUARTERS!" he bellowed, anger coming off in waves. Shaking my head viciously, I tried to mouth no, but nothing was working. I was going to die. "You have TRESPASSED on me!"
"I'm s-sorry! I'm so sorry!" I begged, and it was like a switch had gone off. Vincent blinked, his face showing signs of disorientation for a second. He gripped at his head with those long claws, and I hoped to Leviathan that he was having an inner-battle with whatever evil thing had possessed him, and I hoped he was winning.
"I'm sorry," I repeated, and never had I meant something more than that. I really was sorry that I'd ever stepped foot in that room, sorry that I'd ever stepped foot in that mansion, even sorry that I'd ever left Wutai.
I wanted to go home and marry that man that I first called a monster. I never knew a true monster until now.
"Lu-Lucrecia," Vincent murmured, doubling over. His face twisted into an agonized expression, and his eyes still had that glassy, not-all-there look to them. In his eyes was a heartbroken, inconsolable expression that cut me to my core like nothing else, making it hard for me to breathe. He reached out and gently caressed my cheek, his bony, leathery fingers cold to the touch against my heated skin. I resisted recoiling from him, knowing that might set him off. "Why did you do this to me? How could you, Lucrecia? Why, why did you hurt me this way?"
Desperately, I demurred, "But, I'm not Lucrecia! My name's Yuffie, remember? I'm Yuffie! Please, I'm Yuffie!"
His eyes snapped back to red, and he drew back from me as though he'd been slapped. His pained, hurt expression mutated back into that hateful scowl as he snarled, "Get out!"
Not needing to be told twice, I shoved him away from me and took off at a sprint, nearly twisting my ankle as I barreled through the door, desperate to be as far from the hellish fiend as possible. I fell into a panicked heap outside the room, my hands outstretched to catch myself. Cursing myself inside my head for being weak, I glanced back at the door, praying Vincent would not come after me.
Against my will, my arms shook and I struggled to hurriedly pick myself back up, vision blurred with the fear-induced tears that had gathered in my eyes and just begun to slip off my lashes.
A soft hand grasped my forearm, and another one was placed gently against my back. Horrified, I thought it was Vincent, but a quietly concerned feminine voice proved me wrong.
"Please stand up, Miss Kisaragi. Let me take you to your room." Shelke gingerly assisted me off of the ground, her lips turning down at the sight of me. I must have looked awful, scared spitless, shivering, and a sobbing wreck. She brushed her hand against my wrist, holding it up to examine the deep brown and purple mark that encased it. Vincent must have grabbed me and left a bruise, but in my shock and terror, I hadn't noticed.
Sympathetically, the servant woman wrapped an arm around my waist and led me away from the East wing and over to the West, stopping in front of my door. Pushing it open, she ushered me in and took me towards the bathroom. With tired, worried eyes, she sat me down on the seat of the toilet and sat about grabbing for rags.
Not meeting my eyes, she whispered, "Yuffie, I apologize for what the master has done." A shaky breath escaped her, and she finally turned to look at me, raising a damp, cold rag to my face and rubbing gently at the salty tear trails on my cheeks. I hadn't ever heard or seen this much emotion from her, even though I'd only known her for two days. It definitely seemed out of character, but sincere nonetheless.
"It's not your fault," I sighed, allowing her to take a strip of cloth and wrap it around my wrist. We both knew it wouldn't do anything to fix the bruise, but it didn't stop her. Somehow, I knew she did it for Vincent's benefit, as though she didn't want him to see what he'd done to me. Or maybe, she did it so he would see.
With a shake of her head, she answered, "I told you he wished to speak with you. I — I should have taken you to him! I should have known you'd assume he was in his chamber!" Her voice had become slightly hysterical, and immediately I reached out and placed my hand on her shoulder.
"It's fine, Shelke. I'm alright. Shaken up, but alright." The look in her eyes told me that I had come close to being the opposite of that, and the thought sent a shiver down my spine.
Shelke sat beside me on the edge of the tub, smoothing her uniform down. Her auburn hair swayed as she shook her head again. "You deserve to know. After what happened… After what he did to you... You have a right."
It was what I wanted, to find out all those dirty secrets and skeletons in the closet of Shinra Manor. But now, I really didn't care to know the details.
"Save the story for another day," I whispered. She nodded knowingly.
Hmm... Vince has a bit of a temper when it comes to Lucy, doesn't he? How will he patch things up with Yuffs?
Please drop a review, peeps! Thanks for reading ^-^