It was a disorienting thing, that delirious few moments between sleep and wakefulness: which, for a normal human: could give them the sense of waking up as if they had never rested in the first place, or had slept so well that they had forgotten what day it was. In my case, it was a sudden bout of blind, senseless violence as I lunged out of bed in an embarrassingly ungraceful pounce with a bloodcurdling scream crawling its way up my throat: only for reality to quite-literally hit me in the face as the sheet that had tangled around my legs pulled taut, cutting my blind pounce short and sent my face into the hardwood floor with a loud, solid 'thwack'.
Suddenly fully aware of my surroundings as the reek of my bleeding nose and shock to my face effectively brought me out of one of my constant nightmares: I bared my teeth in an angry 'snarl' and ripped the sheet off my legs, feeling my annoyance build from not only my embarrassing reaction, but apparently: mid-pounce, I had subconsciously summoned the Claws in my right arm. 'Fucking REALLY?! We're back to the night-terrors?! As if there's not enough that I have to put up with as it is.' I mentally snarled as the Biomass retreated: allowing me to wipe the blood from my nose as the virus healed the damage, as if my already eventful morning had never happened. Standing up, I busied myself with stretching and fending off the after-effects of my vivid PTSD-induced nightmares that were so highly-detailed, that I couldn't differentiate them from the waking world.
"And people wonder why I don't enjoy sleeping…when they're not busy shooting me." I muttered to myself, enjoying the loosening feeling that followed after cracking my joints: my neck and back were especially grateful after the last few days of going without. Once I had forced away the lingering drowsiness, I glanced over in the direction of the window, and the faint rays of sunlight peeking through the lace and red, blackout curtains. "God damn it all." I griped, knowing that I only had at the most, a few minutes left to myself before I would be summoned downstairs to be traded off to Donna. Feeling my ear 'twitch' at the sound of muffled footsteps, the approaching maid only solidified that notion: causing me to make my way into the connected en suite: just as lavish, shiny, and spotless as the rest of the Castle, and busied myself with my morning routine and washing up: and not five seconds too soon.
With three soft 'taps' to the mahogany door, Ingrid let herself in: carrying with her my repaired and polished boots and a cup of hot, sweet-smelling tea. "Good morning, Duchess. I trust you slept well?" she inquired, setting the actual, bloodless tea down on the nightstand and placed my boots on the floor: before immediately busying herself with opening the drapes and making the bed. 'About as well as a snowball's chance in hell.' I thought, keeping that bit of information to myself as I made my way over to claim my missing belonging whilst straightening my hood. "Like sleeping on a cloud." I replied, and while it technically wasn't a lie: it would be enough to satisfy their curiosity and make them leave the subject well enough alone.
"Excellent! I'll be sure to let the Mistress know that we have succeeded in our duty to satisfy her wishes. Your boots have also been tended to with the highest extent of our ability: I trust you will find them to your liking. We have also prepared you some jasmine tea in preparation for your departure with Lady Donna and Miss Angie: as soon as you finish, you are to meet with the Mistress and the Young Ladies in the Foyer: they wish to bid you a proper farewell." she informed, paying no mind to me as I knelt down and retied my boots: enjoying the feeling of having them again…and without the rancid reek of various bodily fluids, mud and…other things.
"Thank you, Ingrid. I'll be down shortly." I said, grabbing up the porcelain teacup that was covered in painted roses and golden filigree. "Apologies, Duchess: but the Mistress has insisted I bring you to her as soon as you've woken. I'm afraid we don't have time to linger." she stated, and while her tone was apologetic: she still carried the stern undertones of someone befitting the role of 'Grand Chambermaid': bossy and expected to be obeyed, despite lacking the commanding presence that would be fitting for the role. 'Of course, she did…because why not?' I thought, glad my hood hid my rolling eyes as I tipped my head back with the cup: finishing off the hot, smooth-flavored tea in one go and placed it back on the saucer, completely-ignoring the disdainful look Ingrid shot at me as she took it back and stepped away from me.
"Well, then I suppose I shouldn't keep them waiting." I stated, wanting nothing more than to blatantly refuse and go back to sleep, or even better yet, leave: but because of my…'passenger', I was unable to tell them exactly where to shove it in favor of staying in Miranda's good graces and off my ass for as long as possible. Rising to my feet, I watched Ingrid pull the door open and let me step through first: crouching in that uncomfortable-looking curtsy and refused to make direct eye contact with me as I passed and headed in the direction of the Great Hall. 'Why do I feel like I'm walking to my execution?' I wondered, watching various maids pause mid-chore and curtsy in a simple greeting before returning to work: yet none of them dared to open their mouth and say anything to me.
Following the memorized hallways and corridors, it didn't take my sensitive ears long to pick up on the nails-on-a-chalkboard 'screeching' of Donna's sentient doll, and Alcina's levelled baritone: yet it didn't take hypersensitive hearing to pick up on the giant Infected's rapidly growing annoyance with the obnoxious, unnecessary noise. "WHERE IS SHE?! WHERE?! I WANNA PLAY WITH HER SHINIES! HURRY UP! HURRY UP!" I heard Angie scream as soon as I reached the top of the stairs, and judging from the ringing in my ears: I knew I didn't even have to look to see that Alcina and her daughters shared similar expressions of pain, annoyance, and barely-contained rage at the visitor that was causing such discord in their 'tranquil home'.
"Now Donna, as I have explicitly told you multiple times before, your adamancy to use Angie to cause such obnoxious atrocities within my Castle walls has gone on well beyond my tolerance. And as such, my patience for such has gone on for more than long enough: cease this unencumbered behavior at once, or I shall surrender you to Mother Miranda's judgement as repercussion. Our Sister will be along shortly, and Mother Miranda help her and grant her the infinite patience she has accumulated to put up with your idiosyncratic mannerisms." Alcina stressed, sounding every bit on the verge of forgoing her 'proper' mannerisms in favor of showing the source of her annoyance how she truly felt about the situation: what a funny sight that would be. "I…I know, it-it's just…" I heard the soft flittering voice of Donna whisper its way through the hallways as I made my way down the spiral staircase: and if I didn't have the hypersensitive hearing that was well on its way to be more of a curse than a blessing: there's no way I would've ever even heard her.
"I do not wish to hear any more excuses! You will cease this vile cacophony whilst on my property at once, or I will personally silence her and be rid of the source of my growing umbrage! If it were not for Mother Miranda's strict orders: that psychotomimetic doll will have lost its ability to speak years ago!" Alcina snarled, paying no mind to the 'giggling' of the girls as the silent Infected curled into herself out of fear: clearly terrified of the thoughts the much-larger Infected instilled in her at the mere hint that Angie would continue pissing her off with her howling mouth. "Auntie! Good morning!" Daniela chirped, drawing multiple pairs of eyes to the doorway I was about to enter through: forcing me to quickly tear my eyes away from the intricate design of the tiled floor and hide my need to scowl at the newly-present company for making my ears nearly bleed this early in the morning without even giving me a chance to properly wake up and enjoy even the barest, miniscule-amount of breakfast that I could've snuck away with before dealing with this shit.
"Good morning, Alcina. Girls." I said shortly, trying to sound as pleasant as possible while biting my tongue: forcing the bile away that tried to crawl its way up my throat at the thought of being forced to play nice in order to keep them oblivious…at the cost of my pride. "Sister. I trust your rest was fruitful?" the giant Infected inquired, but anyone with a working pair of ears could pinpoint the hidden threat that lingered in the undertones of her voice: ready to turn into actions if I gave any sign that her expectations were anything but absolute perfection. "About as well as expected, all things…considered." I replied, casting Angie a look of hidden distain as she rapidly clapped her porcelain hands and skipped around my legs with an impossibly-wide, disturbing grin on her already-disturbing, twisted face. 'Doesn't help that those empty eyes are fucking watching me like a demented serial killer with a blood-fetish.' I thought, glancing down at the doll as she suddenly pounced at my feet and enveloped my left leg in a hug: deceptively-strong for such a weak material, though I knew it wouldn't take much to render her to a pile of shattered remains if I had suddenly decided to 'test my reflexes'.
"Indeed. A true pity that you must endure the malaise of being confined with such disdainful company: however, if you prove yourself worthy of remaining within Mother Miranda's good graces, I have little doubt she will allow you to return to us with ebullience: if only to receive reprieve from the uncouth riffraff, of course." Alcina stated, glaring down her nose from beneath her wide-brimmed hat at the much smaller Infected: who curled in on herself in defense, offering no verbal argument in her defense as the doll wrapped around my leg glared up at me through the moth-eaten lace of her veil: as if she expected me to do anything about it. Gritting my teeth and cursing my entire situation, I lifted my foot and shook Angie free of her parasitic grip and walked over to Donna: catching the tilted heads and curious glances the daughters were sending my way from behind their mother. "Then let's hurry up and get this over with: wouldn't want to ruin such pristine floors by doing something…drastic, especially when the staff are already working so very hard to please. It's been a pleasure, Alcina, Girls: the company and accommodations were lovely, can't say I've ever had the fortune of staying in a finer home." I said, making sure to keep my tone light and as truthful as possible: feeling internally satisfied that my skills with words hadn't failed in lulling the Lady of the Castle into the sense that her company was preferred over all else. And while the vast majority of that statement was a lie, it was more than enough to pacify her into foregoing an argument and prolonging my stay longer than it need to: for the sooner we left, the sooner it would be over with…patience and sanity willing.
"Of course, Dear. It is our pleasure to have been the first Mother Miranda has chosen to formally induct you into our…Family. Shame you couldn't stay: for Castle Dimitrescu always has and always will provide nothing but the best, you'll learn that soon enough." she replied, the snide and prideful comment leaving it no secret that she clearly valued herself far above any of the other Infected: and while that may be true from a visual standpoint, I couldn't help but wonder if her lavish lifestyle was compensation for something. 'Wouldn't be the first time. Those with the heaviest pockets always make the biggest messes when they fall.' the Shade chimed in, making an inopportune smirk 'twitch' at my lip at the morbid mental image she decided to flood my head with. "ENOUGH TALKING! I'M BORED! LET'S GO HOME ALREADY!" Angie screamed, making me grit my teeth against the noise for the third time in ten minutes, and judging by the cringing of the daughters: they couldn't wait to the source of the noise to make a swift exit either.
At Alcina's pinning glare, Donna jumped with a horrid 'flinch' and rushed to grab Angie with pale, trembling hands: needing no further prompting to shut her up and give the rest of us some miniscule sense of peace. Once my ears quit ringing, I glanced backwards at the family of Infected as Donna silently rushed past me and led the way through the hallway and back towards the Main Gate: not even waiting for me to catch up in her rush to get as far away as possible from the potential harm that surely awaited her if Angie kept running her mouth. "Bye Auntie! It was fun having you with us, come visit us again soon!" Bela called, cuing her sisters to also bid me farewell and wiggle their fingers in a wave: though Cassandra's smile full of teeth was far more predatory than the others, I could tell that regardless of how our first encounter initially went: she seemed to be warming up to the idea of having an 'Outsider' join in the extremely-reluctant, tight-knit group that somehow passed as a 'family'.
Giving a single tilt of my hood at Alcina, I gave them my own silent send-off as I turned my attention away and followed after the skittish, wraith-like Infected: keeping my steps slow to spare my ears as much unnecessary pain from the screaming doll as possible for as long as I could. Unfortunately for me, that serenity only lasted about as long as the walk to the pair of metal doors that had originally allowed me access into the Castle the first time: before the need to keep up appearances kicked in and I was forced to jog along the damp pathway after the fleeing Donna: who had nearly reached the end of the muddy pathway that led to the dilapidated church that we had our meeting in, that suddenly felt as if it were already a lifetime ago: instead of the better part of forty-eight hours. "YAY! FINALLY! I WAS GETTING BORED WAITING!" Angie screamed again, completely unperturbed from her resting place within the confines of Donna's arms: and while she herself didn't say a word, I could feel her hidden gaze on me with an uncomfortable heaviness that carried with it a hint of sinister delight.
"I can hear you just fine, Angie: stop screaming. And Donna, before we continue: have you spoken to Heisenberg?" I questioned, glancing at her as Angie busied herself with trying to smooth her tattered, moth-eaten wedding dress: only to quickly give up on the task as the entrapment of Donna's arms made the action difficult to do so. "That mean, talking Trashcan?! What would we ever talk to him for?! All he does is yell and throw things! None of my cute friends like him and he smells awful! He never comes to play, so we don't include him in our games!" Angie yelled, and while she completely ignored my request to stop: at least she was considerate enough to keep it down to a more moderate level. 'Guess Donna has more control of her than I thought.' I noted, noticing that while Donna didn't seem to have any say in what Angie said or did: at least she was able to convince her to at least mind her volume…for the moment, at least.
"Are you absolutely sure you didn't see him? Because if I'm going to be staying with you, what I asked him to tell you concerns your safety, so I'll ask you again: did you, or did you not, talk to Heisenberg?" I stressed, tightening my voice much like an adult trying to force a child to come out with the truth after trying to lie their way out of getting in trouble: which clearly wasn't a very far off observation. "AND I SAID-" "We…We did." Donna whispered, quickly clamping her hand over Angie's hinged mouth to cut off the obnoxious doll as soon as she saw my mouth twist into a grimace at the volume: though I couldn't tell if she cut her off because Angie was screaming again, or readying herself to argue. 'Whatever the case may be, you better pray you're not lying.' I thought, blinking hard to rid myself of the painful 'ringing' in my ears from being exposed to such a grating noise at such close proximity: luckily neither the Infected nor the doll were able to see it.
"Donna…for your sake: you'd better be telling me the truth, because I will tell you this once…and only once: behave yourself. While you might be fond of playing around with the minds of your other 'Playmates', I can assure you: playing with my head is the last thing you want to do. Because unlike everyone else who's had to suffer through whatever bullshit you've driven them insane with, I do not take kindly to such manipulation: use your ability on me and I promise you…you will be stepping into a 'Hunting Ground' where not even Mother Miranda can protect you from me. Do I make myself clear?" I hissed, the thinly-veiled threat seeping between my teeth like foggy breath on a cold day: a string of words that nearly sent Donna tripping over the hem of her mourning dress as she scurried away from me like a frightened animal, even Angie stuttered into silence: whipping her head back-and-forth in a disturbing, unnatural angle as she couldn't decide on who to focus her attention on: her Master…or the audacious Newcomer who not only threatened the life of her Master, but was also willing to openly defy Mother Miranda if something so simple as a 'warning' were to be ignored.
"H-H-How did you-" "Do you think it's a coincidence that I would be speaking with not only Alcina, but Heisenberg the day before you've arrived to escort me to spend time in your Estate? They've given me plenty to work with when it comes to all I need to know about each of you. Which brings us to this very conversation: I could give a shit less if you have special flowers that you can use to play with people's minds, but use that on me and I promise you…you won't be alive long enough to realize your mistake." I interrupted, feeling a fang slightly peek out from under my lip to emphasize my point: which was clearly all the instruction the Infected needed, as she scurried several more feet away from me: tightening her grip on Angie, practically hiding behind the doll as she 'nodded' with such enthusiasm: that I had half a mind to believe she was well and truly terrified out of her mind.
"Then you and I have no quarrel, and as such: you have nothing to be afraid of. As long as you understand the one thing I ask of you and Angie keeps the noise to a minimum: we'll get along just fine. Now lead on, you'll find I'm not a difficult house guest." I said, motioning for her to lead the way to our destination, and while it took several, long minutes for Donna to throw the terms I set around in her head, she eventually took a shaky step forward and continued along down the path. 'Interesting that she keeps me in her peripherals: and only on her left side.' I noted, glancing out of the corner of my eye from beneath my hood and saw that while Donna was clearly leading the way towards a giant, wrought-iron gate, customary of Medieval Castles: she only remained half a step ahead of me and made sure to keep her head tilted slightly to the left.
For a few minutes, the awkward silence could almost be described as serene: with only birdsong, distant Village-life and our footsteps on the muddy pathway as ambience, until it was once again broken by Angie: who seemed to finally realize the quiet and was determined to put an end to it, much to my dismay. "Hey! New Friend! Where do you come from?! What's that pretty fabric made from?! What's it called?! How does it glow?! Why?! Why do you have sharp teeth?! Why do you hide your face?! What do you look like under there?! Why-" "Jesus Christ, Angie!" I snapped, unintentionally making Donna 'flinch' like she had been physically slapped: while the doll in her arms was unperturbed by the interruption, just grinning away with that same, disturbing smile that just screamed 'psychopath'. 'If there ever were a time you decided to finally let me the fuck out…' the Shade grumbled within the chorus of noise from within the confines of my mind, and for a solid thirty seconds: it didn't sound like a bad idea.
'For once, I'm inclined to agree with you.' I thought back, glaring downwards at Angie as she swung her legs and grinned up at me: completely oblivious to my internal conversation, and what would become of her if I'd follow through with the sweet, Siren-Song that would've ended with reprieve from the source of my currently bleeding eardrums. "I-I'm sorry, Sister…she-" "Don't apologize for her, Donna: control her. I know you can. You've proven as much before, and while I expected the curiosity: I do not appreciate having my ears screamed off, and if this is going to be a continued problem, then I will have no choice but to follow Alcina's example and silence her. There's only so much aggravation I can take, and unfortunately for you: that limit is already near its end, and it's not even noon." I warned, fixing the Infected's hidden face with a stern glare: feeling a twinge of satisfaction as she tightened her grip on the doll, immediately understanding the future repercussions if Angie didn't learn how to shut the hell up.
"Good. Now that I actually can hear myself think, I can start to actually answer your questions to the best of my ability." I continued as we started walking again: feeling my ears involuntarily 'twitch' and sharpen my hearing even further, catching sounds and unfamiliar voices as we approached the Village: allowing me to see a statue of what seemed to be a Shieldmaiden with her sword drawn in the middle of what I assumed to be 'The Square'. As we walked through the gate, I could feel several pairs of fearful, distrustful eyes snap to me and glue themselves to my form: allowing all activity in the immediate vicinity to cease, and the staring and whispers start. Wonderful.
"Who on Earth is that?!" "Who?" "An Outsider? Here?" "That ghastly-looking woman walking alongside 'Lady Beneviento'!" "Are you certain it's a woman? You can't even see their face!" "If that's a woman, how shameful is she to flaunt herself about like a harlot!" "What a horrid sight, she is." "Outsiders. As if their filth wasn't bad enough!" "A new Lord, perhaps?" "Nonsense! Mother Miranda would've said something." "You're right, she would've! A 'Demon', then?" "A 'Bad Omen', for sure!" "Such evil colors! Ensure everyone locks their doors and burns Rosemary and Sage on the hearths tonight!" "Should we do something? Chase them from here, maybe?" "That there's a Demon, Child: what use would our guns be?" "I'm scared, Mama." "Let us pray, maybe Mother Miranda will answer and tell us what must be done!" "Yes! Let's do that! Come along, now." were just a small percentage of fearful, hateful words being hissed across The Square: passed along by both men and women dressed in trousers and dresses from the 1800s, customary for farming and isolated settlements that hadn't yet caught up with the rest of the world: or even knew about it at all, for that matter.
"How do you stand it?!" Angie suddenly yelled, forcing my attention back to her with a 'wince': while Donna remained as verbally silent as the Wraith she resembled. "What?" I questioned, subtly trying not to lose my footing in the slippery, soft mud as we rounded a bend in the terrain and carefully made our way up a small set of stone steps that had been carved into the stone of nearby rocks: allowing the sounds of Village-life to reluctantly return as soon as we were out of sight of our 'involuntary company'. "The nasty, mean words! How do you stand it?! We would've made them play off the edge off a cliff or made them stab each other's eyes out for that! That's why they don't yell at us or say mean things to us anymore!" Angie yelled again, not taking her glass eyes off me as Donna shifted her to her left arm and unlocked a singular, red metal door with her right: allowing the old, rusted thing to swing open with a loud, grating 'screech' and allowed us passage further up the weathered, stone stairs.
With a singular thought, I mentally ordered the virus to get its shit together: feeling immediate relief as it rushed through my system and worked double-time to heal the pain that seemed to constantly assault my ears and tenderized brain, and it was a fact that didn't seem liable to change until after I left Donna's company: if even then. "Because humans are fearful creatures, and tend to use violence as compensation for things they don't understand. I didn't use to be so forgiving, and the only reason I am tolerant of it now: is because I figured that out. They're afraid. That's all. And they have every right to be, I'm not from here, I don't look or talk like them, I'm different: and because of that, they don't trust me. So, they react in fear: it's something I've long grown used to and have learned to ignore. Words can hurt just as much as any weapon: but if you turn your nose up, brush it off and tell them that their schoolyard insults have no effect on you, they'll stop. Though in my case, they needed a more…physical type of persuasion: but the end result ended the same way. Either they were too afraid of me to even dare open their mouth in a negative way, or they were too dead to say anything at all." I replied, taking my eyes off the disturbing, two-faced doll in favor of taking in the new surroundings I suddenly found myself in the presence of: but I couldn't decide if I was fascinated, or disturbed by what I was currently looking at.
'Well…that confirms the 'Insane Cultists' theory.' I thought, sweeping my hidden gaze across the large 'Courtyard' that had been concealed behind a large pair of wooden doors: wooden doors that held the same thing as the two to the left and right that had each taken a portion of the wide-open space, with a few…minor differences. Resting in the center of the far-left doors, was a large, intricate, wooden carving of a Cadou: looking just as realistic and disgusting as the blob currently resting motionless around my neck. The one adjacent from me was barren and normal-looking as normal could be: and the most harmless-looking. But it was what decorated the one to the far-right, the one we'd just stepped through, and the one outlying the Cadou carving on the far-left that made my nose 'twitch' and made a frown appear on my face as I registered the sickly-sweet scent of decay and feathers that would've made my stomach churn if I wasn't already desensitized to such things.
Outlying the center of each of the doors, were massive buzzard wings that had been brutally severed from their bodies and placed purposefully and methodically above and below a circle of rope that had been sparsely decorated with dusty, bleached bones: with dark bloodstains decorating the ratty, black feathers like rust on a sheet of metal. Curling my nose at the disgusting smell of wet feathers and old blood, I glanced to the right and noticed two pairs of wings outlying an empty circle that had been sparsely-decorated with more bleached bones and seemed to be waiting for its own Cadou carving: while another two pairs of wings rested in splayed positions around the only door that housed the carving of the parasite. Taking in the open door that opened its gaping maw toward us, I noticed this one housed only a single pair of buzzard wings and bleached bones, but no carving in the center: which immediately got the gears in my head turning that this Courtyard wasn't as it seemed at first glance, no…there was a reason for the placement, as if the massive item taking up the mantel in the center wasn't obvious enough of a clue.
Narrowing my gaze, I took in the pathway of short, unlit braziers that had led from our doorway to the doors across from us in pairs: coming to meet in the center, before branching off and outlying a very large, circular alter-looking carving of stone with a small, square monolith in the middle. Tilting my head at it, I ignored all further attempts of conversation made by Angie and subtly took a sniff: searching for signs of danger or potential trap: but only found damp earth, wet charcoal, damp stone, rain, the musk of Angie's old wedding dress, and the light floral perfume that Donna wore. 'If that doesn't scream the word 'Puzzle'.' I noted, refraining from rolling my eyes at my own sarcasm in favor of stepping forward in order to get a better look at the object that had captured my curiousity.
Stepping onto the flat stoneface, I was able to get the perfect angle to take in the details of the small monolith…and split my jaws in a disdainful 'snarl' as soon as my hidden eyes took in the light and dark tile patterning that had dominated the base, as well as a much smaller version in the center of the top of the square monolith. 'Again with you? So, not only do I have to deal with psychopathic Infected, Lycans, whatever-the-fuck Alcina's daughters called those things in her Cellar, an Infected that's determined to add me to her 'collection', and a parasite that can clearly influence those it infects into having a multitude of unknown abilities…but a Cult that fucking worships 'Umbrella' to top it off?! Virus, can you fuck off with the Healing Factor long enough to let me get absolutely plastered so I can get some sort of peace from the nightmare currently rotting my brain? No? Didn't think so.' I thought, concealing a 'snarl' with possibly one of the heaviest 'sighs' I've ever made in my entire life, I ripped my glaring eyes off the floor and back to the monolith: where four empty holes bordered the secondary Umbrella Emblem on the top face, and all the same size.
'Again, this whole Courtyard reeks of a Puzzle…one I have no intention of doing, I have enough in my nightmarish existence to put up with.' I mentally snorted, before deciding to completely put it out of my noisy mind for now and catch up with Donna and Angie: who had moved off to stand next to the doors with the two pairs of wings without a carving as they waited for me. "ARE YOU DONE WITH YOUR STARING?! I'M BORED WITH WAITING FOR YOU! HURRY UP AND PLAY WITH US!" Angie screamed as soon as I was within touching distance of the door: causing Donna to frantically bat her free hand towards the doll's face: only for her attempts to silence her to be in vain as Angie smacked her hand away and glared at me, not even turning away as I tilted the beak of my hood in her direction in a slow, but meaningful motion that Donna clearly needed no assistance in understanding.
"What did I say about screaming, Angie?" I asked quietly, something that clearly frightened Donna more than any form of yelling: something that the doll was apparently not versed in, or even cared to comprehend. Before the doll could open her hinged mouth any further and dig herself a deeper hole: Donna finally managed to wrap her hand around her face and hold her mouth shut with a quiet-but-frantic "Shhhh!" hissing out from beneath the black veil. Noticing that while Donna didn't seem to be able to control the doll as well as everyone with a working pair of ears would like: I could see that she was making attempts to do what I asked, and because of that, I simply glanced at her and tilted my hood: reassuring the silent Infected that I had picked up on her attempts and would let it go…for now.
As soon as I was sure she understood, I took half a step backwards and watched as Donna pulled the rusted metal latch and shoved open the Four-Winged doors with a frantic, almost-desperate motion: as if she were afraid I would get angry and attack her for not opening the door fast enough, and judging by the reactions the other Infected gave in regards to her: I wouldn't be surprised if that was a common reaction. As soon as she got the doors open, I withheld the urge to bare my teeth and plant my feet in the ground as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as soon as the view of the other side of the doors was within my sight. 'Yeah…I don't think so.' I thought, not even needing my heightened instincts to immediately sense the unwelcoming dread the air of the narrow, ravine-like chasm gave off as it twisted and dug its way deeper into the mountain-face and out of sight like a giant, creeping vine. Taking in what little of the upcoming path I could see, I noticed it didn't seem to originally be made by human hands: making me think this trail was made by the erosion of time, or something else entirely.
Rising well above thirty feet in the air, the craggy rockface caught the Fall breeze and sent it whirling through the chasm with an eerie, ear-piercing 'whistling' noise that, combined with the rustling of dead leaves and sudden lack of birdsong: made for a truly unsettling form of nature that even I wasn't sure I wanted to venture in. "This way." Donna whispered, paying no physical mind to Angie as she eagerly waved me along with a sinister, lighthearted 'giggle' that obviously didn't help with the sudden 'Cabin in the Woods' vibe that I was currently experiencing. To make matters worse, my already-limited sight of my upcoming surroundings was diminished even further by dry grass that easily reached my shoulders, and clumps of stubborn ivy that climbed up the gnarly, twisted trees that grew along the edge of the rocky mountainside: whose branches gave the illusion of twisted, witch's hands reaching to grab, to maim, to render into bloody hunks of unrecognizable flesh for setting foot anywhere near their ominous, haunting glade.
Narrowing my eyes into a glare at Donna's retreating back, I grit my teeth and strode after the wraith-like Infected: feeling every nerve in my body suit wake up with an electric charge: ready to react at the slightest noise that didn't originate from the obvious causes, the fact that the grass and other fauna made it increasingly difficult to clearly see my surroundings didn't help my slowly-rising paranoia…and neither did the subtle presence of thick, cloud-like fog that seemed to come in from seemingly nowhere and crawl into the chasm with a sinister sense of timing that I found both cliché, and dreadfully beautiful. 'Why do I feel as if I just stepped into 'Silent Hill'? Getting some seriously uncanny 'Crystal Lake' vibes from this place.' I thought, keeping my steps as silent as a stalking predator's as I crept along the natural pathway after Donna: who kept a fluid pace through the brush as she moved like a shadow flittering between the trees, much like a ghost within its crypt.
"Speaking of." I muttered to myself, finding a bitter sort of irony in that notion as several crows 'growled' through the thick, nearly-blinding mist: startled into flight as we rounded a bend to the left and out into a wider section of the rocky crevice: and into a section where the gnarled, nearly-naked trees and ivy grew freely amongst several ancient burial stones, so old and weathered that I could barely make out the names etched into the old, weather-beaten granite. But it's what hung from those twisted, sharp branches that held my attention the longest: as well as ignited the urge to question Donna's mental state, and not for the first time since the second I met her. Hanging from the trees from nooses, were dozens of creepy, emotionless dolls: each dressed in simple, black and white dresses with a small silver necklace depicting the sun and the moon around their collars of lace, with identical facial features and hairstyles carved and painted into the fragile porcelain.
'Well…that certainly isn't foreboding in the least.' I thought, feeling the fibers of my body suit want to fluff up like the fur of an uneasy cat: an urge that only increased as I spotted several other dolls scattered along the ground and ancient burial stones, positioned as if ready to leap upon the unwary with malicious intent. And that feeling definitely did NOT go away as soon as we stepped foot under them: something I wasn't very enthusiastic about doing in the first place, and definitely not as soon as the whispery, high-pitched 'giggling' started: the disembodied, maniacal laughter that rang through the trees above us only cemented the Silent Hill vibes even further…which definitely wasn't asked for...or appreciated. "New Friend! New Friend!" "We get to play with someone new!" "Hi! Hi! Hi! What's your name?!" "What a pretty pretty robe!" "I can't wait to wear it…once you're dead!" "An-gie! An-gie! Won't you share with us? We've been waiting for SO long for a tea party! Please let us down…so we can PLAY!" the dolls chanted, sang, and called with the same false sense of security a hunter would lull its prey into before pouncing as those on the ground skipped, danced and pranced around our feet: a tactic I was intimately familiar with.
"Awww look! My cute friends like you, New Friend! That means we're going to have SO MUCH FUN once we get Home! We'll have so much fun that you'll NEVER want to leave!" Angie cackled, sounding positively demented as Donna silently carried on as silent as always: though as fearful of me as she clearly was, I couldn't help but feel her hidden eyes on me with a sinister, bloodthirsty gleam: despite not being able to see any of her features from beneath her veil. 'Don't even think about it.' I thought, fixing the emotionless veil with narrowed eyes and a stern frown, but opted not to say anything as she led me further through the haunting chasm: ignoring the urge to break out in goosebumps as we approached more hanging dolls, who immediately awoke to join the chorus of porcelain gremlins that clearly had a very different definition of 'playing' in mind.
Ignoring them to the best of my ability, I watched her stride a few paces ahead of me and made another left turn at the next bend: a bend that immediately sent my boots planting themselves firmly in the ground and refused another step forward, much to the annoyance of Angie. 'Fuck. That.' I thought, taking in the sight of the wooden and rope suspension bridge that was bordered by a short, rotting picket fence that was slowly being overtaken by tall, thorny shrubbery: swaying and bouncing lazily as it stretched above a deep ravine that held a hidden river far below, according to my ears and nose: but was unable to gage how far of a drop it actually was due to the thickness and intensity of the fog that bathed the very air around us in blinding-white mist and uncomfortable humidity.
"Hey! New Friend! What are you waiting for?! Home is THIS way!" Angie yelled, drawing my hidden eyes from the ravine to the doll: who had turned around in Donna's grasp and was peeking over her shoulder at me. Donna, meanwhile, stood silently in the middle of the bridge and watched me curiously: still tilting her head to the left, but this time she had her head cocked to the side, as if she had curiously found out something that she found interesting about me. Something so interesting, that it felt as if her hidden eyes were picking me apart: searching and digging for a weakness that she could use against me in the worst way possible.
"No offense, Donna: but this bridge needs some serious maintenance." I stated, watching the shitty patchwork of rotten, termite-infested boards bounce slowly up and down from the combination of Donna's weight and the whipping wind as it blew through the ropes somehow managing in holding it together. "No, it doesn't! See?! Walking across is fun! Stop being such a baby!" Angie yelled, shrieking with disturbing, high-pitched laughter as Donna shifted her weight to emphasize the doll's statement: making the bridge bounce and sway with the unnecessary movement, like a lethal version of a child's bounce-house. "'Fun'…yeah right." I muttered to myself, ignoring the moving, highly-unstable planks under my feet as I lifted my foot and strode across: not afraid to fall, but not being able to see the ground or any potential threats hidden within the fog wasn't exactly a feeling I felt particularly good about. Glancing around, I noticed that while I couldn't see the river doubtlessly-rushing through the ravine beneath me: I was able to see several more suspension bridges stretching across at different points along both sides of the ravine, all rotten and falling apart: and all leading to god-knows-where.
To make matters worse, the throbbing in my head from Angie's grating voice, the screams in my head, and overthinking things to the point of a migraine increased tenfold as soon as my sore ears registered the loud, rumbling 'roar' of a waterfall, and a large one at that: and very close by. "Well, that explains where the fog's coming from." I muttered, ignoring the doll's curious head-tilt in favor of wanting to hurry up and get the fuck off this bridge: a sense that Donna seemingly understood and had picked up the pace as she led the way across, an act that was quietly appreciated. While I would've normally forgone the need for theatrics and simply jumped across, it didn't take a genius to figure out that Miranda had complete control of the Infected and the very Village itself, and as such: more-than-likely had spies everywhere. And because I was little more than a new part of the equation to her, a variable that blatantly refused to give anything away aside from the cause of our first encounter: something even as simple as a jump would be more than enough of a hint that I was hiding my abilities from her on purpose. If she didn't already come to that conclusion from the beginning: which immediately translated to an extremely unfortunate confrontation that was bound to be brewing somewhere down the line, if it wasn't already.
'To hell with it, let her stew in it. Watching her squirm for all the nitty-gritty details sounds like fun…especially once she realizes she bit off more than she could chew.' I thought, fighting to keep the grin off my face while within eyesight of both Donna and Angie as she turned to make sure I was following her as she continued down the path on the other side of the bridge. And as glad as I was to be on solid ground, I couldn't help but raise a hidden eyebrow as I took in the sights around me: or rather, the diminishing sights. While I fully expected to start seeing signs of a Homestead the closer we got to Donna's Estate, the increasing intensity of the fog and roar of the waterfall took away the details of the property: while adding a foreboding sense of mystery and uncomfortable dread building in the unnatural silence that surrounded the twisted trees, rotting picket fence, and damp stone of the ravine: not even the crows dared disturb the silence anymore.
'It's almost as if nature itself is waiting for something: what a haunting sight this is, like I just crossed the bridge to 'Sleepy Hollow'.' I thought, ignoring Angie's insistent chattering: completely oblivious to the fact I wasn't paying any attention to her in favor of taking in my new surroundings, and lack thereof: with a perfectionist's gaze, refusing to overlook even the slightest detail and miss out on anything of importance: just in case. Despite my sharp eyesight being dulled by the thickness of the fog, I was still able to pick out the rotting picket fence being overtaken by the thick fauna that mimicked the opposite side with perfect clarity. And while I couldn't see colors as well through the mist, I didn't need to do so in order to see the small sections of wrought-iron fencing that began to take the place of the deteriorating posts: a sight the grew more and more common as we rounded the next bend, where the first true signs of habitation began to show themselves.
Bordered by sweet-smelling pine trees, shrubbery and ivy: was a tall, wrought-iron fence with decorative spearheads forming the top, coming together against two stone pillars of a curious design with a pair of white marble finials in the shape of a pair of Chess Pawns perched on the top, with an elaborate-yet-modestly designed iron gate in the middle. As I waited for Donna to stride forward and open the winged gate, my hidden eyes snapped to Angie: who had turned around in her grasp and was wiggling her jointed fingers at me with a somehow twisted smile of her own as she stared at me through her own veil of moth-eaten lace. "Al-most Home! Al-most Home! Time to Play! Time to Play!" she sang, but the grating, painful pitch of her voice made her half-assed attempts at a song so horrid: that it wasn't discernable from any other form of ear-piercing noise.
'Speaking of noise.' I thought, trying my hardest not to wince as Donna pushed open the gates with a high-pitched 'squeal' that wouldn't have been too bothersome for a normal human, but to me: it sounded as if someone were cutting glass right next to my ear…with the dullest blade known to man. Stepping through the gates, I silently watched Donna lead me through a glade of trees that were obviously a much different species than the ones from earlier: almost 'Dogwood' in nature and being overtaken by ivy, these sported the red, yellow and browning leaves of Fall: leaving piles to accumulate on the ground along the fences that bordered the path. With an eye for details, I noticed that the fence on the left was the same, rotting picket that was on its last legs as the rest of the wood-scape: while short wrought-iron was replacing the decay on the right. As we continued along, I noticed that the wrought-iron was being held in place with metal posts: telling me that the ground was too soft to hold the weight of the fence properly.
'You'd think they would use concrete or clay for that.' I thought, furrowing my eyebrows at the interesting decision to not anchor the fence properly due to something as inconvenient as mud, though I supposed having such thick tree roots to cut through wouldn't be very helpful to the task either. Rounding another bend to the left, I tilted my head up as my nose caught the scent of woodsmoke on the wind: feeling slightly annoyed that I wasn't able to pinpoint it sooner, though with the wind blowing every-which-way through this twisting chasm of rock and trees: I was actually surprised I had smelled it at all.
Before I could even open my mouth to ask if we were close, I spotted a tall, iron gas lantern hanging from its pole to the right: the little flame flickering harmlessly within the small glass windows and drew my attention to a secondary wrought-iron gate that was just as elaborate and modest as the first, with a marble statue of a little girl with curly hair and wearing a sundress sitting on a large, round sphere of a base that was apparently meant to mimic a ball of some sort: with the source of the burning-wood smell looming several feet away. Resting within the thick mist on the other side of the gate, was a small, dilapidated Cottage: quaint in its own way, the aged structure rested on a small incline surrounded by neatly tended to shrubs, a small stone water well, a wooden toolshed and a small flower garden that was alive with blooms and herbs that were too stubborn to die in the declining temperatures. 'Either this is 'Donna's Estate', or she's got a neighbor.' I noted, taking in the billowing smoke rising from the top of the brick chimney: signaling that whoever lived there was either definitely home, or was that confident that their wooden and stone house was not about to go up in flames during their absence.
"At least the dolls fucked off." I muttered quietly to myself, keeping my eye on the house and bushes of well maintained, brightly-colored mountain flowers as I continued along after Donna, who had stopped in the center of the path just a few feet away from the sealed gate. At first, I thought she was waiting for me to catch up with her: until I noticed that while her head was turned in my direction, I apparently wasn't the source of her attention, or Angie's. Coming to a stop to the Infected's left, I subconsciously made sure I was in her peripherals as she focused her attention on a long, tunnel-like trellis that was nearly overgrown with flowering ivy: the small blooms of white, pink, yellow and purple flowers demanded attention against the drab green through the mist and would have been eerily beautiful against the 'Orchard' of sleepy trees and shrubbery: if Heisenberg's warning wasn't constantly rearing its ugly head like a pissed-off cobra.
''Watch the Flowers'…starting to see what you mean now.' I thought, glancing warily between the silent Infected, her unusually-quiet doll, and the magnitude of deceptively-beautiful Gardens whose light scent was tossed around by the wind in a subtle cloud that nearly made me want to sneeze. "Oh! 'Mistress Donna'! Miss Angie! Welcome home, dears! I've just finished pruning the 'Peonies' and have started preparing the 'Violets' for the first frost." a sudden voice called from beyond the trellis, cutting off my urge to snap at Donna for potentially going against my firm request to not use her psychological bullshit on me: and instead drew my hidden eyes to the source of the voice, where a small, hunched over old woman was busy making her way through the living tunnel and in our direction with minimal difficulty on the wet, uneven terrain.
As soon as I was able to make her details out through the obnoxiously-thick fog, I saw she had to be in her late 70s and only five feet tall, if an inch: dressed in the same, drably-colored, Amish-style dress as the rest of the Village women while thick gardening gloves protected her fragile hands from digging around in rocky soil and thorns. While she beamed a smile at the Infected with several missing teeth, her wrinkled face was exposed to the rough elements that have been clearly taking a toll on her age-spotted skin, while several wisps of white hair framed her face in stubborn, stringy strands that had escaped the confines of the bun that rested on the back of her head.
Curious by her lack of a reaction at all towards me, as if she didn't even know my ominous, black and glowing red form was standing right in front of her, I took a much much closer look at her face: which only confirmed the thought that was slowly taking form in my already-exhausted brain. At first glance, one would think she was blind and wasn't able to actually see very well, if at all, or the fog did an exceptional job at camouflaging me: making me appear as nothing more than another shadow against the trees, but that's not what my sharp eyes saw. While the old woman herself was a sight in her own right as she stood like a Hag in her haunted glade, the unnatural, butter-yellow of her eyes and flower pollen that seemed to stick to her face like stubborn makeup: it didn't take me long at all to figure out that this frail old lady was under Donna's influence.
'Well…that explains her obliviousness.' I thought, taking notice of her flowers again with a whole new form of intent: and spying the miniscule, subtle cloud of dusty pollen being blown around by the wind, which told me that if she wished: Donna could ensnare anyone she chooses as soon as they're close enough to even breathe in this stuff. 'Looks like you're a bigger threat than I originally took you for.' I noted, narrowing my eyes at Donna: who nodded shyly at the old woman as she prattled on about the condition of the soil and how the fresh manure from the farmers in the Village will help the flowers grow several times their original size. 'Which would also increase the potency, no doubt: or however the hell that worked.' I thought, opting to stay silent and absorb as many details about how Donna's ability worked as possible by simply staying quiet and watching.
It seemed to me, that as long as someone was continuously exposed: she could use the pollen in her flowers to make them see whatever she wished: not like I hadn't already known that, thanks to Heisenberg, but actually witnessing it…made me want to double my efforts to ensure she never got the chance to use that shit on me. "Oh! OH! We have a New Friend coming to visit! And she like dress-up and games too! Say hi! Say hi!" Angie yelled with hyperactive excitement, effectively snapping me out of my internal cataloguing and back to the conversation going on in front of me. At Angie's 'introduction', the old woman's pollen-crusted eyes blinked curiously before lazily drifting over in my direction: snapping open, not with disgust or fear, but excitement: as if Donna had finally allowed her to see me, but whether or not she saw me as myself, or as someone else was anyone's guess.
"Oh! Hello there, my dear! How very kind of you to stop by and visit Mistress Donna and Miss Angie! She gets so very lonely up here, so it warms this old heart to see her bringing friends home. I am 'Andra', and I have tended to these 'Gardens' for a great many years. Shame they've begun their yearly sleep: they look simply marvelous in the Spring!" she introduced, unknowingly giving me more than enough information about the cause of Donna's flighty personality: not that I hadn't already measured several guesses, there's only so many things that could cause such overly-excessive reactions…and none of them were light and cheery. "Good to meet you." I replied, trying to sound respectful as I felt Donna's hidden gaze on me with a shy, expectant weight: as if she was waiting for my approval of her Gardener and how well she was tending to the source of her abilities.
"So kind and polite! What a lovely little thing you are! Mistress Donna is in good hands with you, I can tell." Andra continued happily, paying no mind to the wraith-like Infected as she seemed to shrink in on herself again: but I couldn't tell if she were ashamed by what the old woman said, or was embarrassed by being the object of the conversation. "Enough talking! I want to get Home already! All this fog is ruining my dress! Hurry up, New Friend! Let's go! ANDRA! Keep our flowers bright and pretty! Make them big!" Angie yelled again, clearly speaking for both herself and Donna: who immediately turned away from her present company and continued rushing her way down the path, obviously too flustered to care if she left me behind or not.
"Of course, Miss Angie! I always do! Now run along, dear: no need to concern yourself with me, Mistress Donna is a shy, nervous thing. It's good to see she's finally found someone to keep her company in that old, lonely house: and not as a simple Playmate, I may be old: but I can see that you have much in common and that you'll treat her well. She may not look it, but it's been something she's been yearning for for a very long time." she said, and while she was clearly the type to gossip: even under the influence, I could see she cared. Cared enough for a dangerous Infected to act something like a grandmother to her, despite having such a vile ability: and was audacious enough to compare me to her…and not in a rancorous way, something that hasn't happened since….
'Enough with this shit! Next comparison is going to get punched through the nearest rockface!' I mentally snarled, fighting hard to keep a straight face as Andra smiled warmly at me: carelessly waving me off like I was little more than a child as Angie yelled for me again: Donna watching me silently from the next bend further up the path: one that led deeper into the fog and hid god-knows-what from view. Shaking my head hard to chase the unpleasant thoughts and memories away, I paused just long enough to give the kindly old woman a departing 'nod' before jogging after Donna in a lazy trot: opting to ignore Angie's insistent 'screeching' about how I'm "Wasting their time" and "Making the walk Home take much longer than it needed to", in favor of taking in more marble statues placed withing the Gardens in aesthetically-pleasing positions as well as a second, ruggedly-charming Cottage taking up residence in the space on the other side of the Orchard: complete with its own gas lantern on the other side of the path.
'I wonder who lives in that one, if anyone.' I thought, taking notice of the lack of signs of life and decay starting to set in to the point where it looked as if the building itself was structurally unsound and ready to collapse at any time. If that were the case, it made sense to leave the Cottage vacant, not like an elderly Gardener like Andra would ever be able to tear it down and dispose of it: not without getting crushed, at least. With that observation in mind, I focused my attention back to Donna and Angie as they led the way around the next bend to the right: leading me further into the dreary, haunting scenery that seemed to be setting the tone for a truly foreboding atmosphere that was sending all my instincts and senses ablaze with the unfamiliar need to 'get the fuck out', and while I very much wanted to indulge them and do just that: the last thing I needed was Miranda's interference before I finished gathering what I needed to turn the game of Chess against her.
"Just need Donna to behave herself." I muttered, grinding my fanged teeth as the pieces of the puzzle started to come together and the picture started to form, and while I already knew I wasn't going to like the image they formed: the new insight on Donna's abilities threw a sharp, pointy stick into the gears of a well-oiled machine. And while she clearly needed no further warnings from me to keep her psychedelic pollen to herself, I had an ominous feeling in my guts that told me that that decision was temporary, whether by her own will or otherwise: and that was a legitimately terrifying feeling that quickly made me decide that I would never allow her to get the chance to even think about apologizing if she decided to make that feeling a reality. 'A 'Boggart'. She's a fucking Boggart!' the realization came so far out of Left Field that I very-nearly stumbled over my own foot as soon as the connection was made: making the back of my body suit feel as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down my back.
"Well…this just got a lot more interesting, didn't it." I told myself, suddenly feeling a strange form of excitement that brought with it, not pleasure: but anticipation, which one of us would break first, and better yet: who was the bigger threat. While the virus 'sang' its praises and demanded I take Donna's abilities for my own, at the end of the day I knew that's what Miranda wanted: but for what, I could only guess. So, to humiliate the dreadful Crow even further, I decided to retract my teeth and claws and play nice with the rest of my 'Siblings': though if Donna decided to completely ignore the forewarning and play with fire, it wouldn't just be her that gets burned. The real question was, what was it going to take for Miranda to 'Show her Hand' in this elaborate mental game she's thrown me in, and how many had to pay the price before she received what she was owed?
