The smell of lingering smoke hit her first. Followed by the familiar nip in the air. The faint echo of roars rang through the night. Excitedly looking around Violet's expression quickly fell as all she saw was the burnt-out carcass of the building she had 'awoken' in.
Blackened stone, charred wood, and ash. It wasn't the most welcoming first impression of her first hunt. But Violet wasn't going to let a bad first impression get the best out of her. She was ready to make her master, and maybe father, proud.
Sneakily looking around a mischievous little grin appeared on her face. Excitement and nervousness churning in her tummy.
A second later her master stepped forward. A shimmer of silvery moonlight falling of him. His footsteps echoing loudly in the burnt house, wood snapping and crumbling under his boots.
Bathed in silvery moonlight, her master had never looked more imposing. He looked tall and strong, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. Taking a deep breath of the fresh night air he rolled his shoulders. A hand absentmindedly coming up and going over his inventory of tools and concoctions. After he was done, he fished out a vial of blood, kneeling before her and slipping it into one of the many empty pockets in her vest.
"Here, Yharnam blood. Consume it if you are wounded, it won't patch up everything, but it is a literal lifesaver. A second chance at life if you will. While you won't be fighting, accidents happen, and I can't always be there to protect you no matter how much I might wish." Her master said softly, but no less harshly. Something else entirely settling in his eyes.
The kind pillar of strength she had come to know and love transforming into someone she only had seen a handful of times before her eyes. Once when her master had saved her, before the hunter escorted her and the old crone to safety. And only a handful of times later when the hunter slipped through. They might be the same person, but they were also different. Even if she loved both and knew from the bottom of her heart that both loved her as well.
Where her master was kind and helpful, always going out of his way to help her when she was struggling. The hunter was harsh, forcing her to be the best her she could be. Even if kindness and love together with a sliver of guilt shone from his hardened eyes when he thought she wasn't looking.
"Remember the rules?" He asked, and she gave a quick nod. Something that made him frown. "Repeat them to me again." He ordered gently.
"Don't get to far away from you. Deter to you whenever a fight happens. Don't try to interfere unless you state otherwise, or beasts are coming for me. The threat of a gun is sometimes for effective than shooting, but if I have to shoot, aim for the head. If I have to fight, try and get to you. And under no circumstance separate from you. And to always have my aura up." She huffed. Having been forced to recite her masters rules for the eighteenth time in three days.
"Where is your pistol?" He asked. With a silent huff she opened her coat, her masters old pistol sitting ready and loaded in its holster under her right armpit.
"Where are your bullets?" He asked. On instinct her hand came down to her belt where her ammunition pouch was.
"Twenty bullets." She sassed back before her master could ask how many bullets she carried.
"Where is your hat?" He asked with a cheeky little smile. Tussling her hair before gently setting her father's hat on her head. It still smelled of him. Full of incense and iron, with a faint tang of blood. But even if it was her father's hat, it didn't offer her even an iota of safety compared to just being close to her master.
With him by the side, Violet felt almost unstoppable. As if nothing could ever hurt her.
Grinning up at her master, she got a soft smile in return. Unfortunately it was quickly wiped away, the hunter taking forefront again. Standing up with a little groan, her master looked around. Haunting reminiscence shining in her eyes, before being melted away by a grim determination.
Without a word he began marching out of the smouldering ruins, forcing her to jog slightly to catch up with him. His large strides making him move at a deceptively fast pace.
"Tonight will be just an introduction. Yharnam at a night of the hunt is a lot different from the Yharnam you are used to. For one almost everyone you meet out on the streets who are not one of us are hostile, if they don't prove otherwise." He started, voice colder than the air around them.
"What will we be doing?" She asked softly, inching closer to her master. The lifeless eyes of half rotted half eaten horse carcass washing away all excitement she might have felt. The empty carriage, which she had once dreamed about riding, taunting her. A bloody handprint sliding down the window.
Without thinking, she felt herself reaching for her masters hand. Wishing for the comfort it offered. Stopping herself halfway. Not wanting to appear weak on her first hunt. While it wasn't her hunt, she didn't want to be a burned.
When they came to a split in the road further up, Violet inched closer towards her master. Throwing a nervous look at the loitering drunks further down to the left. Another look over to them showed that it wasn't alcohol they were drunk on. The stench of pungent blood could be smelled all the way over where they stood.
"We… will be visiting an old friend called Gilbert." Her master answered plainly. "It's a fairly short trip. Just up the street to the right, up a staircase, around some bends and we are there. But it should be more than enough to give you a taste of what to come."
Violet didn't like what he hinted at. A shiver racing down her spine. Pulling her saw cleaver closer to herself, she felt some measure of safety. The haunting scream of Crocea Mors, her masters trusty blade, being drawn sending a shiver down her back. It wasn't that she wasn't used to the sound, having been around many times when her master and his partner Ms Nikos were sparring.
But it was the first time the blade had ever sounded so eager.
They effortlessly slid passed the opening in the fence. Making it a grand total of five steps before a foul stench came barrelling towards them. A shower of splinters was sent their way as a hulking monster of a man came charging at them. The figure was clad in a dark hood, wielding an axe that was longer than her master was tall with a hungry axe head at the end.
'Executioner!' Her mind screamed, completely rooting her to the spot. She remembered hearing the term brought up when eavesdropping on her father and some other church hunters when her father hosted. They talked about the unnecessary brutality and lust for blood. 'A stain on Yharnam's reputation'. They had said. 'More beast than man.' They had whispered.
Her master met the executioner with just as much ferocity, if not more. Leading the crushing strike into the pavement, sending shards of stone flying. Before the executioner could as much as think, he slid his blade up the wooden shaft, taking with him multiple fingers and leaving a deep gash in the executioners chest.
Tearing the large weapon out of its hands, throwing it to the side, he dashed at it. Slipping under a thundering punch, he brough his swung his blade sharply, cleaving straight through its knee. Sending it crashing face first into the stone pavement. An unforgiving downward swing ended the executioners scream of pain before it could alert the entire neighbourhood.
Staring at her master in awe, not knowing how the fight could have ended before it started, she saw her master casually step away from the blood fountain the executioner had turned into. Giving his blade a twirl to shake away the blood.
Throwing a look around the street's he turned to her. "Always remember, when fighting larger enemies to never let them use their size. Instead cripple their mobility, poison them, set them on fire, use everything in your arsenal to make sure that they can never use their strength's against your weaknesses. As of right now you will never be a physical powerhouse, through that can change, but you should focus on your mobility and tool use first and foremost."
Violet did not pout at that. Her dearest mother looked just like her. She had feminine curves, but she had also been skinny, not needing a corset to appear thin. Having seen Ms Valkyrie somehow lift all three of her teammates, together with her, all without breaking a sweat having made her want to be just like her.
Maybe not completely like her. Violet knew she could never bring out that much energy constantly. But she wanted to be strong like her.
Her master didn't allow her to dwell on her thoughts. Instead he quickly marched over to where the executioner had just come from. With a shake of his head he came back and fished out a little crystal from the still warm corpse.
"We will talk about that later. After your lessons start to include the blood and rituals." Her master said with a little smile before the hunter took forefront again. Pocketing the gem, they headed back out on the street again.
"Beast! Monster!" A shrill voice screamed out. As one Violet and her master looked up at the twisting stairway where a man with a scraggly beard, and just an as unkept clothes stood. A burning torch in one hand, and a wooden plank for a makeshift shield in the other.
"Violet, head back to where the executioner came from." Her master ordered calmly.
"But-"
"Violet!" The hunter barked out. Giving her a stern glare. "I can't kill everyone and keep you safe at the same time."
Inching backwards, fear set in when she saw a patrol of eight other watchmen coming running the street. Drawn to the commotion, all bearing equally bloodthirsty looks.
Gulping she took two scared steps backwards before turning on her heels and sprinting down. Heart slamming in her chest when she saw the earlier two blood drunk lards make their way from the other side. Before they could as much make their way through the gate, familiar thunder echoed, starling her.
The two blood drunks head's popping like pimples.
Casting a look over her shoulder she saw the hunter having quickly finished off two watchmen. Already falling in stride with her, revolver in hand. Looking no worse for wear, the only hint of a struggle on him was how blood clung to his sword.
"Second lesson, use your environment to your advantage." The hunter explained calmly. Easing her nerves with his presence alone. "Push your opponent's down stairs, set puddles of oil alight, use everything you can to win. Use a tight corridor to make longer weapons harder to use and to force your opponents to come at you one at a time."
Twirling his revolver around in his hand, he smashed the handle trough the teeth of a particular brave watchman. Hooking his revolver behind his neck, he dragged the watchman face first into the stone street. Crushing his throat under his boot.
Gulping, Violet didn't know what she found most terrifying. The violence the hunter could dish out at a seconds notice, or how his expression didn't change at all.
"The madmen will be gunning for me, but there is a chance they will try and slip by to attack you. Have your gun by your side just in case." He ordered calmly, shaking of the blood and teeth from the revolver handle before holstering it.
Dashing into the dead end, she hid behind some boxes. Not a second later the sound of steel rendering flesh rang out.
"Die you rat!"
"Die you cursed beast. No good man of Yharnam should move so ungodly fast."
The watchmen's bravado quickly died down, turning into horrified whispers or hushed whispers. They never got a chance to scream, only a few seconds to pray to whatever deity they believed in.
Peeking through a slit in the boxes, she saw how the mob of watchmen didn't make it a single step past him. Dying to a single swing of his blade. If they were unlucky, her master would elegantly parry their desperate attacks into another watchman. The second they tried bolting past him, they got a crushing fist right into the tummy before having their throat slit.
Ten opponents, all brutally murdered in a dance of blood and steel before she even got a proper look.
"You can come out now Violet. It is safe." Her master called out after the dust had settled. Unceremoniously searching through some of the dead watchman's corpses. Throwing her another blood vial, he pocketed a handful of bullets.
Slipping the blood vial down in her vest, she inched closer, taking a closer look at the carnage that littered the street. Because that is what it was. Pure carnage. A shrine to the violence and madness that had taken her home.
Stepping closer, Violet marvelled at the beauty of it all. The moon's gentle rays making the rivers of blood twinkle with a myriad of pearls. It was beautiful, a visceral piece of art that was slowly drying up. Swallowed up by the cobbled road.
Tearing her gaze away from the blood, lest her master think her fascination weird, she asked the question that burned. "Is this why you didn't want me to carry to much? Because we would… search for more?"
"Not entirely correct, but not entirely wrong either." Her master answered, pocketing some extra bullets before starting to walk again. Making her jog a little to catch up to him. "For one, if you carry much and don't know where everything is, you might pull out a molotov instead of a blood vial. Another is that carrying more can weight you down. There are a bunch of other details as well, but they all stem from the smile fact that you aren't ready yet. Up here."
Walking up the staircase, they quickly made their way past where the watchman and his friend had stood. Now they were lying dead with their fellow man on the uncaring street. The pout didn't leave her lips up, even up the staircase. She knew she wasn't ready but that didn't mean she liked having it said out loud.
In the blink of an eye, her master went from giving her an affectionate sigh to launching himself forward. Grabbing the offending arm, he stopped the cleaver long before it could ever reach her. The sound of snapping twigs ringing out in the silent night. Too caught up in her head, it took her all until the cleaver bounced against the stone flooring to connect the dots that it wasn't twigs that broke.
Her master didn't give the man a second to catch himself. Letting go of the offending arm, Violet spotted bone poking out from the minced meat it had become. Before the man could scream himself hoarse, her masters hand clamped around his head, slamming him face first into the side of the building.
Blood, spittle, and tears stained the wall. The watchman's face a disgusting mess of small lacerations and broken teeth. A broken soft sob escaping the mangled mess. Letting go of the skull with a snarl of disgust, her master watched impassibly as the mad crumbled, smashing face first into unforgiving stone pavement.
Without as much as a word, her master brough his boot down, thundering with righteous fury. Crushing his skull under his boot, sending rotten brain matter splattering all over the cobbled street.
Violet took one look at the rotten, almost squirming brain matter that coated her masters boots. Mind coming to a screeching halt. Looking up, she shared a glance with her master before her tummy finally gave. A veritable waterfall of puke coming shooting out of her mouth.
"Bleurgh."
It burned on the way up, pearls of tears trailed down her face. Trying to catch herself after she was done throwing up, she let her eyes wander back to the rotten brain matter.
Retching as more vomit came spewing out.
"Shh. It's okay. Let it out." Her master cooed gently, running circles over her back.
Her tummy lurched to the side, her back buckled as she almost collapsed. Waiting impatiently for another waterfall of vomit, only to spit out a few drops. The second the drops left her mouth, a foul aftertaste burned at her, followed by a horrid burning all the way up.
"It's okay. You just puked up some stomach acid. It will pass." He said gently, bringing out a handkerchief and dabbing away the remnants of puke.
"Why did he have black squiggly worms in his head?" She croaked out, still feeling the burn in her mouth. "Do I also have black squiggly worms in my head?"
"What? No." Her master was quick to reassure her. "You don't have black squiggly worms in your head."
"Then what is that?" She asked, pointing at the squirming brain mass that was in its death throes.
"A side effect of the blood." Giving her master a deadpan stare, she waited for him to explain. Not knowing if she could ever sleep again if she didn't get answers. Her master gave her one look, before sighing.
"The blood is wonderous, but it is just as, if not more so dangerous. A wise man told me that the blood is essentially a forced evolution. If that evolution is good, bad, or disastrous. Well, that is up to the parson." Her mastery calmly lectured. Not at all minding if she got an extra minute or two to catch her breath.
Nodding sceptically she felt the big words fly over her head. Eventually she asked the question that burned in her. "What about you master? Do you believe him?" His eyes misted up. Sighing, he gave her an empty stare, sending a chill racing down her spine. His gaze seemingly seeing straight through her, all her thoughts, emotions, everything she was and would ever be being barred before him.
"I… I am of the belief that the blood brings out the 'truest' reflection of a person. If someone believe they are better than the average person, the blood will transform them to reflect that. If someone believe they are a hunter, the blood will transform them into what best suits that belief. And… if someone were to believe themselves to be rotten and stupid… the blood will transform them to suit their believes." Her master eventually explained.
"… What do you believe you are?" Violet couldn't help but curiously ask.
"…Nothing." Her master answered with a self-deprecating laugh. "But, you know, even if it can be hard at times, I try to be a good man."
"But don't be so quick to take my word as gospel." Her master quickly warned. "If you think I'm wrong you should say so. A hunter is as much a scholar as they are a warrior. As your lessons get more complex, you will start forming your own ideas and belief's over certain topics. Don't be afraid to be yourself. In learning you will teach, and in teaching you will learn."
"Huh?" The sound left her involuntarily, staring up at her master with confusion. He gave her a bark of laughter, the hand he just used to crush a man, coming towards her to pat her head. Instead it landed on her father's hat.
"Don't worry. You will understand when you are older."
With those words hanging in the air, the hunter started walking. Spitting out a glop of remaining puke, she quickly hurried after him. They went around the corner, and up the little staircase. And then they were there.
A lit lamp hanging outside a lit window. The apartment wasn't the largest, cramped between the twisting street. Light snoring ringing out from the apartment.
"Please don't interrupt." Her master asked politely, before turning and knocking on the window. Starling the occupant inside.
"ZZZ- Gah! Jaune, lad, is that you?" An older, voice called out.
"Who else?" Her master said. A soft smile easing his harsh look.
"Took you for dead." The older gentleman snarked back. "About time you shoved up. The hunt treating you alright?"
"The hunt is as the hunt is." Her master answered, turning to her. "Why don't you head over to the ladder over there? Take a quick look and see if anyone is coming up."
"Who are you talking to lad?" Instantly caution laced Gilberts voice.
"My apprentice." Her master reassured with a little smile. Not being able to help herself, she gave him a beaming smile.
"Then congratulations are in order, my friend." Gilbert barked out with a laugh. The caution in his tone gone, replaced with a simple joy.
Turning to her, her master gave her a little look. Pouting she started walking towards the ladder. Throwing a little look backwards, a look of sorrow plastered all over her masters face as he muttered something to Gilbert.
Shaking her head, determination settled over her. For each step forward she felt her heart sinking deeper and deeper. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed on. Grabbing the fence, her eyes boggled.
Looking down she saw the street they had taken earlier; she could even see the burnt ruins they 'woke' up in. Her knees were shaking, the height making her tummy twist in on itself. Her hearth might have been filled with awe, but her mind wouldn't allow her to enjoy the view of Yharnam's skyline. Instead it was torturing her by conjuring multiple ways she would splatter over the pavement if she lost her footing.
Pushing away from the fence, she ran with all her might towards her master. Heart thundering in her ears.
Her saw cleaver was thrown to the side, turning into motes of silver. Desperately reaching for her masters hand, she hopes he wouldn't think less of her. The instant his hand was caught in hers she felt her legs finding strength. Her heart calming down, courage blooming in her chest.
A soft *click* echoing through the night.
Looking up at her master, she saw his earlier ease having disappeared. Replaced by a visage of grimm determination. Taking a breath, the grimm determination melted out of him, replaced by the detached apathy that clung to the entire night.
"We have been invited in for tea." He said calmly, giving her a little look. Well aware of the warning bells that rang in her mind.
'Never. Never let someone in until after the sun have risen. Promise me that, my dearest Violet. Promise that you will never let someone in.' The last words her mother said to her before escaping into the night echoing in her mind. Opening her mouth, his gaze hardens, silencing the words on her tongue.
"Stick close to me." Her masters voice whispered in her ear. Then he plastered a tired smile on his face and opened the door. "Gilbert, finally I can put a face to the voice." He said with fake politeness, stepping inside with none of the caution he had warned her about.
"Jaune, lad, you are far younger than I thought." Gilbert said with a tired bark of laughter. Peeking out from behind her master, she gave their 'host' a long look.
The first she noticed was his hunched back, from the looks of things he had been as tall, if not taller than her master when he was young. Now his back looked like a giant question mark. Crow's feet marred his face, together with a few liver spots and a mouth of crocked teeth. He had a handful of long grey straws for hair that hinted at what had once been. Dressed in a shirt and pants, he looked old, wizened.
If Violet didn't know better, she would say he had a foot in the grave.
Letting her eyes wander, she took in the apartment. It was larger than expected. While the entrance was cramped, there was a spiralling staircase that led to other floors beside the rocking chair that sat by the window.
"The kitchen is downstairs. Let me show you." Gilbert said, taking the lead and huddling down the staircase. Placing a comforting hand on her back, her master followed him.
Hiding behind him, she accidentally placed a hand on Crocea Mors. Flinching slightly when a scorching heat burned through her gloves. Not wanting to draw any attention, she silenced her cry. Instead sticking her finger into her mouth so she didn't get any blisters. Glaring at her master's blade the entire way down.
Her master shook her head at her antics, not at all aware of how his sword just burned her.
Coming down into the living room, Violet marvelled at the size. In total Gilbert's room was as large as the plateaus they had stood on either. He even had windows looking out over Yharnam, even if the view was ruined by the ladder that got in the way for some.
Leading them into the kitchen, Gilbert sat down by the kitchen table with a loud groan.
"The kettle is by the bench. There should some cups in the cupboard." Gilbert added helpfully.
Hidden by her masters side, Violet felt a pair of hungry eyes wander over her. Blood froze in her veins; her mind working overtime to understand what was happening. Conjuring all the horrible ways she could be killed in the blink of an eye.
Then as quickly as it came, the eyes were gone.
Terrified, Violet looked back over to Gilbert. Half his face was twisted in a terrible grimace of pain and rage. The other was filled with guilt, stalwart determination shining in his eye.
Before her eyes the rage and hunger were forced away. A tired sigh escaping from their host.
"The tea should be ready soon." Her master said gently, giving her a little smile. Walking over to Gilbert he pulled down another chair he sat down with a loud groan.
"Lad, you can't be older than twenty. Stop acting like you are ninety." Gilbert snarked. Shooting a tired look over at her master.
"Yes, yes." Her master snarked right back. Stretching out, joints popping like fireworks. Letting out a satisfied groan, he sat straighter. "Let's just say I stumbled upon some things that have kept my mind busy."
"What did you find?" She couldn't help but ask. Her gut was screaming at her that Gilbert was dangerous, but all she felt was safety. Knowing full well that he would have to go through her master before he could touch a hair on her head.
"That's not for you to know." Her master sighed. Pouting, she heard a raspy chuckle escape Gilbert. "Spirited huh?"
"You have no idea." Her master sighed with a shake of his head.
"But lass. Trust your master. Some secrets should stay just that, secrets. Ignorance is bliss, or so they say." Gilbert added from the side. Huffing, she gave him her worst glare. Earning herself a harsh laugh.
"Wait here lad, I have something for you." With a loud groan, he stood up and hobbled over to another door. Quickly escaping inside. Some rustling echoed through the now silent room, before he eventually returned with a stack of boxes under his arm. Collapsing in his chair.
"There are some things I wanted to give you lad, think of it as a payment for the favour you are doing me." Gilbert said gently, shooting her master a look. He had a sceptical look plastered over his face. "Gilbert. Really, there is no need."
Here, you go lass. It might not be a proper gift to give upon first meeting, but I don't doubt for a second you will find it of use." He said, completely ignoring her master and gently pushing one of the boxes towards her. Looking up at her master, she saw him give a little nod. Pushing past the ball of fear and nervousness, she reached for the wooden box and opened it. A gasp escaping her as she took in the elegant dagger that rested on a pillow of velvet.
Looking around the table and only seeing encouraging smiles, she steeled her nerves and grabbed it. "It's beautiful." She said. "And so light." It had a thin and narrow blade, and an elegant cross shaped guard. Pulling it out of the sheet, a soft gasp escaped her. Completely transfixed by the beautiful pattern in the steel.
"A misericord. It has served me well in the past, and I know it will serve you faithfully until the day you chose to pass it on." Gilbert said with a good-natured smile. "I would have given it to your master, but a weapon should be used, not sitting gathering dust as she has. And I don't think she would be happy if he suddenly started wielding a dagger as well."
As one the old and the young shared a glance and looked over at the blade that hung on her masters hip. Crocea Mors almost preening under their attention.
Her master, usually so perceptive and seemingly all knowing, looked at them stumped. Confusion written on his face.
"Thank you." Violet said from the bottom of her heart. Turning to her master with big expectant eyes. With a little smile he took the dagger and fastened it to her belt. Running her fingers over the sheet, like she had seen her master do so many times, a giggle escaped her.
"And you lad. There are some things I want you to have." Gilbert said. A solemn air settling over him. Gently he pushed a journal towards her master. "Like you, I'm an outsider, even if the method of how we got here differ, I still want you to have this."
Carefully taking the journal, her master leafed through it before slipping it into a pocket on the inside of his coat.
"Like I have told you, I came to Yharnam seeking aid for my affection." Gilbert started; a smile filled with nostalgia. "I'm from a place called 'The City', or The Eternal City. Just like Yharnam, it is a place with a deep history. And just like Yharnam, it is ravaged by a plague. One which I was unfortunate to catch. Compared to the beast's that plague Yharnam, my home's plague is an insidious killer that will leave you a withered-up corpse, not allowing you to die even when your body is falling apart. Should you ever find yourself tired of the hunt I have written a way to reach my home. Even the names of some old contacts."
"Garret, right?" Her master asked gently.
"Yes, just like you he is a talented young chap." Gilbert said with a little smile. "Your values… might differ. But if you tell him I sent you, he should be more than willing to give you the help needed to get your feet back under you. After that, well that's up to you."
"Maybe." Her master sighed, sending a jolt of sheer unbridled terror racing through her. "But not now. No matter how tempting, I can't leave before the hunt is over. I might not like it, but I have a duty to this city. I would never be able to forgive me if I just turned tail and ran."
Before anyone could say something, Violet launched herself at her master, engulfing him in a crushing hug. No words could describe the relief she felt when she heard he wasn't abandoning her. Lifting her up, and placing her on his left leg, she melted into his side. Curiously looking as Gilbert pushed another wooden box towards her master.
Opening the box, a beautiful, hand carved pipe lied on a pillow of velvet. Some bags of pipe weed hidden behind it.
"Take it, it is yours. Working wood helped keep my… worst impulses in check." Gilbert said, a wry smile on his lips as he and her master shared a nod. "It's not much, but it is a coming-of-age gift back home. You don't have to use it, but it is something to remember me by at least."
"Thank you." Her master said with a smile. His expression faltering slightly.
"Bah- don't be sentimental now lad. If anything, I should be thanking you." Gilbert exclaimed loudly. "But here. You will have more use of this than me." Pushing a single piece of paper towards them.
Sceptically grabbing the paper he read through it. His face twisting into a grimace the further he read. "No. Gilbert. This is far too much. I can't accept this."
"Lad, if you know that is good for you, take it." Gilbert said, raising his voice and not backing down in the slightest.
Violet wished she could be anywhere but here. Making herself as small as possible, she was frozen solid. Caught between a rock and a hard place she uttered a little prayer to Odeon that something would save her from this.
*Tchcccccc* The kettle screamed. Breaking the staring contest that had erupted between the two men.
Gently lifting her up, her master sat her on another chair. Quickly making his way to the kettle and expertly pouring three cups. Watching her master at work was a lot like watching an artist at work, Violet had noticed. He always moved with a dreamlike grace. His movements smooth and gentle, not at all compared to the choppy, frustrated ones that plagued her late father whenever he brewed tea.
'I wonder when I can move like that.' She wondered, eyes sharpening to needlepoints when she spotted her master slipping a single drop of something into one of the cups. Instantly she felt the hairs on her neck rise.
With a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes he quickly sat the cups before them. Sitting down, he took a quick sip of his tea. Completely nonchalant to the look she sent him.
"Huh, better than I expected honestly." Her master mumbled.
"Quick and painless, or a gradual descent laced with madness, huh?" Gilbert mumbled, giving the cup in his hand a solemn look.
"I am sorry. If I knew another way you would have been the first I came to." Her master spoke softly.
Narrowing her eyes, she looked between the two men. The sorrow that clung to her masters features, the stoic acceptance that rolled of Gilbert. There was something they weren't telling her. A part of her burnt at how the two talked as if she wasn't there, another knew stepping in would add oil to the fire. She could taste the undercurrent that was just waiting to explode.
"Don't be." Gilbert reassured gently. "If anything, it is I that should be sorry. If I had known what you do, I would just have washed my hands. You are a good man Jaune, and even if we have only known each other briefly. I am proud to call you friend."
"Don't make this harder than it is." Her master whispered softly.
"I'm sorry lad. I truly am. But you have given me back a choice I thought had been robed from me. For that, there is nothing I can do to properly repay you." Gilbert said, pushing the piece of paper back towards her master.
Her master was silent. Face carved from stone. Eventually sighing, he pocketed the piece of paper. "Fine, but only because I respect you."
"Hah, I wouldn't want it any other way." Gilbert barked. Then he looked at his still untouched tea, determination setting it. Lifting the cup up to his lips, he downed everything in a single gulp. "Ah, that hit the spot." Letting out a large yawn he turned to her master. "Do you think you could walk me to my room? I am… tired."
"You are never a bother." Her master said, quickly raising and moving to Gilbert side. Helping him towards the staircase. They moved slowly, carefully making their way down the staircase. Not wanting to be left alone, she followed closely behind them. Reaching out to help whenever she could.
"You got a kind girl there, lad. Take care of her." Gilbert grinned, giving her master a harsh look. "I don't want to say your apprentice is too young as it's none of my business. Just cherish her, aight? There are so many horrible things going on in this city that we must treasure and nurture kindness. Lest we be no better than the beasts that plague us."
"You don't need to remind me." Her master sighed, even if a soft smile graced his lips. "And as for my apprentice, trust me that she will be cared for. Arc's promise."
"I know you will lad, I know you will." Gilbert laughed, before breaking out into a string of coughs. The coughing left as quickly as it came, leaving Gilbert out of breath. Gently sitting him down on his bed, her master laid him down and tucked her inn.
Crossing her arms, Violet felt her insides turn green with envy. Seeing her master show such tender care for some random old man just grating her. She knew Gilbert may be her masters friend, but he was her master. Why was she ignored for an old man when she was his apprentice?
It didn't make sense.
Even if he had given her a beautiful dagger, she didn't like how the two kept her in the dark. But Violet didn't pout, she didn't make a scene even when her whole being screamed at her to do get rid of the ugly feelings that rolled in her tummy.
She knew better. She was born and raised in Yharnam after all. She had already given her word to her master, and she wasn't going to break it. Because if she broke her word, who could trust her word?
Instead she sat down on a stool and watched. Trying to see if she could figure out what they secret they were sharing.
"You know lad, I'm glad you decided to come knocking on my window this faithful night." Gilbert said with a sincere smile. "I had all but given up hope. As I said earlier, there is nothing I can do to properly repay what you have done for me, neither in this life or the next."
"Think nothing of it Gilbert." Her kind master smiled gently. "If anything, it is I that should be thanking you. Your help and knowledge have been invaluable."
"You are a good man, lad. Don't let anyone snuff out that spark of kindness." Gilbert said with a voice of steel. Grabbing his and in his and giving him a burning look. "Yharnam, the Eternal City too, good men are always in short supply. Hero's, we call them, yet their graves are empty, their names go forgotten, only their deeds remain of the brave men and woman who so readily threw their lives away chasing hope and dreams. Don't, if not for me, then for your apprentice's sake. Don't be so quick to throw your life away."
Her master didn't say anything, he couldn't say anything. And realisation softly dawned in Gilbert's eyes. Every breath slowly becoming more and more laborious. Yet, he didn't tear his eyes away from her masters. Even when tears welled up in his eyes, he still held his gaze.
Nervously kicking her feet, her eyes darted between them. The look of sorrow never leaving Gilberts face.
"What have you done… lad?" Gilbert rasped out. A series of coughs wracking his body.
"If not me. Then who?" Her master said softly. Free hand coming up to wipe some tears away. His back turned to her.
"You really are a good-natured fool, aren't you?" Gilbert coughed out with a soft smile. Before his brows scrunched up in a frown. "I thought you said it will be painless?" Gilbert spat out through coughs.
"I'm sorry. I didn't take in account your… affliction… fighting back." Her master apologised. "There is another way… but this was the kindest way I could offer. I'm sorry."
"Lad. Stop beating around the bush and just do it." Gilbert demanded. A grimace spreading on his face, soaking the bed with cold sweat.
A glint of steel was all she saw, followed by a spray of blood splattering blood on her face. Bilking numbly, she scene before her was forever seared into her mind. Gilberts head tumbled through the air, landing in her outstretched hands.
He looked at peace, content in the face of death. A prayer for forgiveness twinkled in his lifeless eyes, as if he was sorry for what her master had to do.
Tearing her eyes from the severed head, a scream tore it's way out of her throat. Because in the bed, there didn't lay a human body. Instead the twisted and hairy form of a beast had taken it's place. With claws that would put her saw-cleaver to shame, a mane of hair that belonged more on a wolf than to a man.
Even its blood was wrong. It was a thick like tar, closer to liquid sin than the crimson hue that all blood should be.
"Wh- What happened?" The words came tumbling out from her. Everything had happened so quickly. Her master went from talking amicably with Gilbert, before mercilessly murdering him the next second. She had known something was wrong when she had seen her master pouring something into Gilberts tea. But she cold never, even in her wildest dreams, expect it would cumulate into this.
"Gilbert… Gilbert was sick." Her master stated plainly, only the faintest flicker of pain twinkling in his eyes before it was pushed down. Tearing the blade out, he ignored the intestines that was dragged out with it. Spilling out like ropes of sausage onto his boots as he got to cleaning his blade with a handkerchief. "…So I offered him a choice."
Her master didn't say more after that, instead sheathing his blade and laying a hand on the beasts crushed chest.
"By your sacrifice, I do what I must, as I take from you, I give in return. Granting you the peace you so rightly deserve."
White lilies the colour of moonlight sprouted up from nothing. Watching on in awe, Violet saw Gilberts body break down into motes of silvery lights, the weight in her hands disappearing with the wind as the silver motes danced through the room. A harsh gust of wind danced through the bedroom, bringing with it a small tornado of papers and dust.
Squinting, Violet forced herself to watch on, the most mystical and beautiful thing she had ever witnessed forever burned into her soul.
When the winds died down the beast, the blood, and the severed head was all gone. Washed away as if never there to being with. The only proof that something had happened was the trail of paper lying spread all over the floor.
"Did the plague get to him?" She asked, before a horrifying realisation dawned on her. "Are we sick now?"
"Yes and no." Her master answered calmly. "As long as we are hunters of the Dream, we will never succumb to sickness or disease. However that doesn't make us immune to other afflictions such as poison or frenzy."
Her master didn't elaborate further, instead whispering a hollow goodbye to Gilbert before marching out. Jumping down from the stool, her trusty saw-cleaver already in hand. While still unsure about her masters words, she followed him up the staircase and back out into the cold night air.
Fishing out a key, he locked the door behind him. Giving her a little look, they disappeared down the streets of Yharnam. In the grand scheme of the hunt, Gilbert was just one of many. Just another name added to the evergrowing list of the dead.
Looking up at her master, Violet didn't quite get why he brought her here. Reaching towards Gilberts gift, she felt an uncomfortable emptiness roll inside her. Even if she had been green with envy, that didn't mean she had wanted the man dead. She only wanted her master to pay attention to her.
Questions upon questions whirled in her mind, but she ignored them for now. Simply content with following her master as the dark streets of Yharnam surrounded them.
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Note: An entire chapter from Violet's perspective, and she isn't as kind and innocent as she seems. Instead, she is just like any other child, wanting the attention of their loved ones.
Note: The City/Eternal City was thrown in for good measure, for while Jaune is bound to Yahranm, there exists a world outside that he may or may not get to explore, haven't really decided yet.