Act I: The Abyssal Quarter
Scene IV. 'Holy or human, they all recognize fear in the face of death.'
— 'I will never forget the first time I saw it. The family called it our legacy; I came to know it as our curse. I had only heard stories about it before that night. About how it hunted us, how it tore us asunder, and how we would one day ultimately be devoured. It was even a rhyme passed down through generations. A childish rhyme for such a cruel fate— "When crows cry, fear, for the scarecrow is near. And when with its claws it reaps, it is the fruit of your heart that it keeps".'
"Stay. And no matter what, do not come out."
Their mother's words as they shoved them into the hollow of a tree trunk rang violently in their skull. Fat tears threatened to fall down large eyes, small hands covering their mouth as quivering lips bordered on the brink of a sob. A thin layer of leaves was their only cover from what laid outside, from what their mother hid them from.
The wind rustled the leaves overhead, the more that fell, the more that hid the narrow hollow entrance. As its soft singing died in the air, another replaced it, but this one wasn't the wind.
"Come, little one, come."
Their mother was calling.
"It's me. It is safe. Come to me."
Their tiny hands ripped away from their mouth and grasped the cold bark of the tree's hollow to help push themselves upright. Scramming out of the hollow, their tiny heartbeats pounding in their chest, they emerged and searched all around them.
Only to find nothing.
No one.
Their voice trembled, "M-Mommy?" The wind rustled and died. "Where…where are—"
"Here, little one."
Their mother called yet again, this time straight ahead. Their eyes fixed on the spot in front as they adjusted to the darkness. From within it a pair of eyes glowed. The little one smiled, her fear assuaged by their mother's familiar gaze and ran to her.
A scream echoed through the forest, scaring the murder of crows that had perched all around.
|Tuileries Garden, Paris.|
A bright morning.
Ophelia had forgotten how beautiful those could be.
The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips while her hands busied themselves adorning the page that sat on her lap. Oils were the paints of choice today. They sat gingerly on the edge of the fountain where she herself sat, impatiently awaiting their turn. It was always a hassle to lug them around, but since her charge and his added luggage were still resting after their field trip to the catacombs a few days ago, it gave her the perfect time to rest.
Beside her, Emile dipped into the fountain with a small cup and brought out the clean liquid to exchange it with the murky water she'd been using to clean her brushes. Dutifully, he waited by her side as she picked a nut from a bag that sat on her other side and fed it to him.
Nothing like the brilliance of clear blue skies.
"Hello, Miss Selene."
Opal eyes sliced straight across from where she sat only to meet a most displeasing sight marring such a delightful morning. Ophelia clicked her tongue, clearly displeased with no attempt to hide it, and lowered her sketchbook to meet bright blue eyes in a childish little body.
This brat again.
Tension grew thick as the silence stretched, but the crowd passing idly by during their day-to-day life didn't seem to notice. Or they ignored it. She wished she could do the same. The visage of the young boy standing a few feet away from her appeared innocent enough. Ophelia knew better, or at least could sense that letting the kid close would be a grave mistake.
They had only met one other time before this when the Shapeless One had sent a message through the boy. And by the letter he held in his hand, this was no different. Ophelia didn't understand why he sent the boy to her. Especially when the feeling he gave off was completely different to that of any child she'd ever met.
Something just felt wrong about him.
Much like there had always been something wrong with her ever since Moreau transplanted those eyes in her.
The fact that neither knew each other's name made it all the worse.
"He said not to give it," he responded when she demanded it the first time. "That you needn't know it, just like I needn't know yours."
Anonymity. Ophelia sensed that would do little to stop either of them from going at each other's throats if the other made the wrong move.
So he called her Miss Selene, complimenting her 'beautiful eyes'. She didn't waste any energy giving him a name.
"What is it this time?" she asked, lifting her sketchbook to continue her painting, unabashed. "If you came only to deliver something, then just give it and leave."
Despite her hand continuing to brush away in delicate strokes, dull opal eyes never once let him out of her sight. He approached her casually with an envelope in hand, those bright blue eyes striking her as he gave the painting on her sketchbook a peek. The smile, so simple and pure at a glance, widened as giddiness shone on his pale features.
"My, Miss Selene, I never knew you were so talented."
Ophelia said nothing.
One of his hands covered his lips daintfully, his metallic prosthetic glimmering when the sunlight shone upon it. A gesture so delicate it appeared almost lady-like; a damsel performing to her waiting suitors amidst a crowded ballroom.
The stretch of silence once again fell by his hand.
"Say, what have you been up to lately, Miss Selene?"
The question itself told her he already knew. Not wanting to play games any longer, Ophelia sliced a glare his way before snatching the letter from his hand. The boy made no move, only smiled.
"Leave," she said, the faintest threat tinging the word.
The smile never left his lips. In fact, that she had even retorted made it all the wider, his eyes shining deeper. He skipped back with his hands locked behind his back before waving a childish goodbye.
Ophelia watched him disappear, washed away by the sea of people enjoying their promenades in the warmth of daylight. Sunlight did little to undo the chill that rushed up her spine once he was gone. Emile bounced from spot to spot, climbing onto her shoulder and shrieking at the missing boy, fist aloft and shaking wildly in protest. Ophelia let her shoulders rest and teasingly hit his head with the envelope still in her hand.
"Gather everything."
Somehow the bountifulness of the day had been drained by the single appearance. Everything lost its color when her mood soured, so continuing to force herself to paint would be a moot point. With sullen eyes, she sighed as her glance lowered to the unfinished piece in her hands.
Pity.
It'd been an enjoyable time for once, short as it was.
Setting it aside so Emile could make haste in putting everything away, she turned to the envelope still in her hand. Light and small, Ophelia easily opened the sealed lapel to find a single piece of paper inside. It was a torn piece of newspaper dated a few weeks prior. Most of the headlines were incomplete and unreadable leaving only the untouched letters legible.
'Chaos continues! Citizens steer clear of Chateau Thierry as a result of gruesome murders with no culprit in sight!'
Murders?
If she recalled correctly, that castle wasn't too far away to the northeast. A few days' travel, perhaps. She'd been there before; a pretty peaceful place. Picturesque. Which made her wonder just what could disrupt such serenity. Well, if the Shapeless One had sent it to her, then it could only mean one thing.
That thing had made an appearance.
Ophelia's hand crushed the torn piece of newspaper. She needed to stay as far away from Thierry as possible. If anything, staying hidden underground in the safe house for a couple of weeks would be best. But as Emile pulled at her packed suitcase to tug it closer to her, she thought better of such an option.
No, hiding wasn't in the cards now. Not when she couldn't trust those two to not get into any trouble in the meanwhile. She supposed that was why the Shapeless One bothered to warn her this time around.
"We should lay low for a while, Emi—" Ophelia stopped mid sentence as she was about to put her closed sketchbook away in her suitcase. Holding it in her hands, the large book was enough to remind her of a different and much smaller book.
One that held a bit of special little magic that just so happened to affect curse-bearers.
…
Could the answer be that simple?
Stuffing the sketchbook into her suitcase, she snatched Emile by the waist and hurried along the crowded streets back to Hotel Chou-Chou.
|Galerie Valentine|
"Castle Thierry?" Vanitas' brow dipped into a frown. "What's to find at the rotten castle grounds?"
"New patients," she simply said.
Despite having gone straight to the room those two shared to speak to the so-called vampire doctor, she was surprised to find her charge still fast asleep despite noon being just around the corner. Dull opal eyes stared straight ahead at the sleeping form that strangled a pillow in his arms, drool precariously sticking to the cotton as it fell from parted lips. A quiet snore filled the air between them as neither said a word.
"Does he always sleep like this?" she asked, bemused at the sight as she stood at the foot of Vanitas' bed that just happened to be right in front of Noé's.
He heaved a long painful sigh as he crossed his legs and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "Regrettably. It's a pain to wake him when he hasn't yet."
Ophelia hummed pensively to herself, her head tilted slightly. No wonder he hadn't woken up when she entered and started their conversation. What a heavy sleeper.
"Anyhow," Vanitas continued, ignoring the deviation to their conversation. "How positive are you that there's a curse-bearer in Thierry?"
"Quite." Still a bit intrigued, Ophelia stepped forward to stand by Noé's bedside. Emile jumped from her shoulder onto the soft mattress and scurried up to sit on Noé's shoulder, the up-and-down motion of his little body a telltale sign of his profound breathing. "I have it in good faith that the one currently there has been causing mayhem."
"Of what kind?"
Ophelia bent over slightly before reaching down and poking Noé's cheek. Soft. "The murderous kind."
Vanitas clicked his tongue. "Damn baldy never mentioned anything about it when I saw him this morning."
"Dante wouldn't know," she corrected after pondering for a moment who 'baldy' referred to. "I doubt information brokers have taken an interest in what's happening at the castle yet. Or even linked it to being caused by a curse-bearer."
"How so?"
Simply put, the causes of death were too disparate to call a pattern. Ophelia had done some research before coming to Vanitas and had discovered the modus operandi of the purported murders was all over the place. So far there had been five victims ranging in ages, ethnicity, and gender. Two were found with their heads cut off, two others disemboweled, a few of them drained; if there were any similarities, it was that they were all found near the castle or had visited the grounds days before their deaths.
"To Orlok and the others, it might just look like senseless murders committed by human hands."
"And you know they aren't." It wasn't a question, though there appeared to be a different kind in the underlying tone of his voice.
"It is…a particular malady that is quite tenacious," she said. "Like a cold. It comes and goes with no warning, creating messes similar to Thierry's wherever it stops."
"You've met it before."
Those blue eyes bore into her with an intensity that would have made any other crumple. Dull opal eyes didn't falter, however. Not even when Emile screeched in terror at suddenly being snagged by Noé's sleeping hand into a suffocating embrace.
Hands delicately placed upon her skirts and expression unabashed, she asked, "Will you come?"
His gaze lingered on her for a second before he groaned. "If it involves a curse-bearer…"
What a roundabout way to say 'yes'.
Rising from his bed, Vanitas strolled to Noé's bedside before yanking Emile out from his grasp and in the same fell swoop smacking his face with the automaton. Iron bounced around the room before crashing in Murr's cage, giving the feline the rude awakening of a lifetime. A hellish screech followed as the white cat ran off towards Noé and dug sharp nails into his body.
Noé rose at last with a jump, crying at Murr and failing to yank him off his clothes and skin.
"Get up," Vanitas told him without further preamble. "We've got somewhere to be."
"Wha…" Unclawing his cat from him, groggy violet eyes blinked Vanitas' way as he left. Blinking again, they returned to Ophelia who simply smiled before bowing and leaving the room altogether.
'You've met it before.'
Many times, the thought came as his words echoed in her head.
None of them ever ended well.
|Province of Champagne, Outskirts of Chateau-Thierry|
What Ophelia had recalled as a tranquil place now ran amok with gossip and laden in panic. The three of them had arrived moments ago after an uneventful train ride only to be welcomed in a rather amusing way.
"Run! Run or you too will fall to the Scarecrow's claws!"
Ophelia snagged Noé away from the loiter's way as said man clumsily made his way through the station spooking those who arrived in much the same way.
"Is he alright?"
"Probably not," Ophelia offered as a response. People who blathered like that were either drugged, sick or worse—afraid. "But it's quite helpful since it saves us the time of having to ask for information to confirm. There's no doubt in my mind it's here."
"Great," Vanitas huffed. "Now will you bother giving me the information you do know about this thing so I can better diagnose it?"
Dull opal eyes turned to him, unfazed, before turning to the large street that opened beyond the station. Ophelia turned to Noé and tapped his shoulder, both to get his attention and Emile's. The little automaton hopped off her head and onto his shoulder receiving a hiss from Murr as he did so.
"There should be an inn not far once you enter the town with quite wonderful food, if I recall correctly. Would you both go ahead and save us a table? It's quite popular so it gets full rather quickly."
Violet eyes stared down at her for a second. She almost thought he would oppose her request, seeing it for the ruse it was. Instead, his naivete once again won him over. With a soft smile he agreed and went ahead of her and Vanitas.
"I don't think that's quite the brightest idea," the latter grumbled.
"It'll be fine."
"He's going to get lost and cause us unnecessary trouble," he hissed.
"Which is why I sent Emile with him."
Bright blue eyes narrowed. "You're relegating your babysitting job to a chimp?"
"They're both primates if you really think about it," she mused, rather amused by the idea. A soft chuckle escaped her at another surfacing. "One's just more mindful than the other."
Ophelia walked ahead, her moves slow and methodical, and gazed down to watch her own feet as they fell upon uneven asphalt. Once a pair of black boots joined her side, she began without further ado.
"I don't know its name," she said, voice soft as they walked amongst a somewhat crowded street. "Nor if what I've seen of it is truly what it looks like."
Vanitas scoffed. "Well of information you turned out to be."
Ignoring his complaint, dull opal eyes looked up ahead of her to watch the people that made their way through their daily chores. Fear was so obviously etched in their posture and weary glances.
A fear she long ago learned to quell.
"I've met it a total of five times," she continued. "Most of those times it took the shape of a mundane object, humanoid in shape. It has been a scarecrow a couple of those times. A knight's armor once."
"And the times it wasn't?"
Her gaze fell to the side. "A monster."
It was the only way she knew how to describe what she had only seen in the dead of night a handful of times. It towered above canopies with a black-furred body as dark as the night it prowled. It's head a deformed mess she barely remembered with white horns similar to a stag's protruding from its head. Unlike its body, however, it almost appeared like its fur and skin melted off, leaving its yellow-marred skull exposed.
Eyes hollow yet all-seeing somehow.
"I believe that is its real form," she said after describing the nightmare she vaguely remembered. Unconsciously, her hand rose to her face, a gentle brush of her thumb against the lashes of one of her eyes ridding her of the small itch that came about. "It's been a couple of years since I last saw it."
"And what makes you so certain that it is here?"
Dull opal eyes wandered to the nearby treeline that separated the town from the forests beyond. Even from here, she could see them. Canopies full to the brim with black-feathered birds. Vanitas' bright blue gaze followed hers towards the treeline to find the same sight.
"Because they've learned some time ago that where it goes, food will certainly follow."
And that beast left nothing if not a feast in its wake for them.
Ophelia guided Vanitas to the inn where Noé had waited obediently, waving his hand high despite how small the space was. Vanitas grumbled at the conspicuousness; Ophelia's lips curved into a faint smile. Food was something she desperately needed at the moment if the soft rumble of her stomach was anything to go by. Yet eating was the last thing she wanted to do.
Seeing it always made her queasy. It ignited every nerve in her body and had every instinct ever drilled into her by training and experience in uproar like a furious blaze set alight by the simple hit of a flint against stone. Food never settled, neither did her nerves. Whenever it was close, Ophelia was always on guard, muscles across every inch of her body taut and ready. The worst was always the sight of a murder of crows that sickened her. The way their black beady eyes stared soulless into the crowd and found her, their caws deafening as if to alert the rest of their group.
'Food,' she could almost hear them say. 'Soon.'
"Mademoiselle?"
Ophelia blinked away horrid thoughts from her mind and looked up to meet a gentle violet gaze turned a bit down in worry. They'd finished eating for sometime now and were simply waiting while Vanitas did some research through his book in private. Noé, interested in the selection of pastries offered in such a quaint town, had ordered a few while they waited. Ophelia had only taken the chance to have some tea to settle her grumbling stomach.
"Are you alright?"
The question was simple. The answer, not so much. She didn't let him in on that, though.
"Yes," she replied with a simple smile, holding the warm cup of tea with both hands. "I simply dislike waiting around."
It wasn't a lie. Patience was a virtue she didn't possess nor cared to. Hesitation cost too much these days to give it any room in her mind.
Her sorry excuse didn't do much to dispel the worry etched on his face. It was obvious by how his brows drew down further that it still very much plagued his mind. His emotions were so easy to read.
The grip on her cup tightened at the thought, the smile never faltering from her lips.
How I despise laid-back people.
The dark thought suddenly vanished as he placed a small plate in front of her with the other dessert he had ordered for himself. It wasn't much of anything. A piece of key lime pie if she ventured to guess decorated with a small drop of cream on top. Dull opal eyes blinked before her gaze turned to him once more.
"Have some."
"I'm quite alright," she replied, pushing the dish towards him.
"You haven't eaten since we arrived," he protested, pushing it back.
"I'm not hungry."
Ophelia pushed the dish back only to be stopped by his own fingers pushing back against the other side. She added force to her gesture; he did the same. Back and forth they went until the plate trembled under their joint but opposing forces; Ophelia's quite more strained than Noé's who didn't seem to be putting much force in the gesture at all.
"Sweets aren't much to my liking," she tried as an excuse through gritted teeth.
A glint came to his violet eyes. "This is perfect then!" Out of the blue, he took the plate from her and had her falling forward.
Ire bubbling a bit inside her, she opened her mouth to reprimand him only for her to eat her words along with the forkful of pie he shoved into it. Almost instinctively, she slapped at his hand hard enough for him to retract it with a whimper.
Springing up from her seat in anger, Ophelia pointed at him like a child with one hand while covering her mouth with the other for decorum's sake.
"Don't ever do that again, do you understand—"
But as she spoke, her mouth moving, she stopped in her tracks. A tartness suddenly spread across her tongue as the soft texture melted in her mouth with the few words spoken. Slowly, she lowered to a seat as she allowed herself to savor the bit of pie. It wasn't sickly sweet like what she remembered others tasting.
Desserts were always too sweet for her taste. The sickly-sweet flavors made her feel sick to her stomach if she ate more than one bite. And yet this didn't upset her stomach. This wasn't even sweet, just a bit acidic.
And pleasant.
It's…good.
Dull eyes turned up to meet his once more and scowled at the expectant smile on his face.
"Wipe that grin off your face," she grumbled as she swallowed the bit of pie still in her mouth. "Never do that again."
"I-I'm sorry," he mumbled. He gently settled the fork on the remaining piece of pie. Dull opal eyes idled on it. "I just thought you'd like it. I-I had a friend who didn't quite like sweet things either but he was fond of this kind of dessert. Any desserts with limes or lemons were too acrid for me and Domi, so we always gave them to him when we got them. You kind of reminded me of him with what you said so I thought…maybe…"
He turned sheepish at suddenly realizing what he had done with what amounted to an utter stranger.
Ophelia blinked a few times at the unwarranted revelation. When she was given the task to look after him by the Shapeless One, she only paid attention to the necessary information. She hadn't cared about him as a person; the only reason he mattered to her was as the task she'd achieve to finally rid herself of a pesky debt. It was no different than how she treated any others before him, or any differently from how they treated her.
She was just a tool to be used and so were they. No one cared to look any further.
Yet, he did as he pleased.
At first she thought it was just another thing to despise about him, but then quickly realized that what she sensed wasn't anything like the irritation that had become so synonymous with him. It was subtle and held her consciousness in a tighter grip than anger did.
…
Oh.
I'm envious of you.
Ophelia reached across the table to pick the fork from the plate and take a small piece of the pie. Violet eyes followed her movements as she inspected the piece before popping it into her mouth.
After swallowing, she reached over to bring the plate closer to her and, as she toyed with her next piece, voiced the thoughts that the little piece of tarty pie had roaming in her head.
"My siblings always called me odd for not liking sweets," she said, taking another bite. "But I didn't grow up eating such things. Even when I got the chance to, I didn't enjoy them. Sweet things make my stomach upset, you see." A soft chuckle escaped her as a far-off memory came to mind, "Though I think it's more the memory of my eldest sister stuffing my mouth with them as a joke and my throwing all of it up that upsets it more than anything."
A soft curve lifted the edges of his lips at the easing of the suddenly strenuous mood. The new, lighter atmosphere had him ordering the other desserts he hadn't and adding an extra piece of key lime for good measure. Sensing the change, Murr snuck his way under the table and onto Ophelia's lap, snuggling against her as she ate away.
Somewhere along the line, Noé's curiosity took over the silence between them. Tartness loosening her tongue and the warmth emanating from the ball of fluff on her lap gave her the comfort to speak about a topic she hadn't talked to many about in years.
"You mentioned you had siblings?"
Dull opal eyes lowered to the half-eaten slice.
"We were a bundle of eight in total."
"E-Eight?" he sputtered, part of the pie in his mouth spilling on his lip. "So…many."
Ophelia chuckled at his childish awe. Perhaps someone like him who lived alone and withdrawn from society would think so. Although, she often overheard the help saying the Delacour Duchy was more of a hens' pen than a regal estate with how many children dawdled about. Another piece of the tart pie melted in her mouth as she tried to remember them after so long.
She had learned from a young age that a mixed family wasn't uncommon among the peerage. The Duke of the Decalour Household was no exception with multiple offspring from different women.
Nothing was more important to them than to produce an heir to continue their presumed legacy.
Father lucked out with his first wife in that regard. The late duchess Océane gave him his heir only to tragically pass during childbirth once her one and only duty was fulfilled. In between the rattling bearthes of her dying body, it is said she uttered the name of her newborn son.
Raphael was their brother, the eldest. The heir to everything their name stood for.
Duke Cesaire married a few years later. If out of necessity or ill-intent was gossiped quite frequently for the duration of that engagement. So came to be the new duchess of the Delacour Duchy, Jacinthe. Such a beautiful name for such a wretched person. It was the second duchess' plentiful womb that gave him the rest of his gaggle.
Scarlette was the firstborn Delacour daughter. Her dancing was ethereal, and when paired with her blades, deadly.
The twins, Ludivine and Lorraine, followed as the second and third born. Mischievous to a fault, they often skipped their training sessions yet loved hunting the nearby woods with bow and arrows in tow.
Sybille came fourth. A bookworm that enjoyed the peace of the duchy's library. A brilliant mind in such a young body that could follow their brother's teachings in strategy. And though not the best fighter, she could hold her own with a dagger.
Clarisse followed as the fifth. Young and bright, she enjoyed the vast flower gardens in the duchy. Ophelia often found bouquets of her latest pickings early in the morning waiting at the foot of her door even before breakfast was served.
The last of Jacinthe's children was the fruit of all her hard labors: a baby boy. Their youngest brother was the light of their family. A gentle soul that deserved the world and all it had to give him.
Cold metal tapped against her cheek bringing her out of her train of thought and bringing a smile to her lips. Ophelia tapped Emile under his chin as thanks. If he was there, it meant someone else wasn't far behind. The automaton curled against her touch, the warmth of her skin a welcomed contrast against his cold cheek. Suddenly, as if just noticing it, his little astermite eyes shone at the sight of food. Ophelia chuckled under her breath before giving him the rest of her slice.
Emile loved to eat anything and everything, the little glutton.
"What about yourself?"
The question didn't faze her as it so often had when asked. Ophelia had long ago come to terms with the fact that her birth wasn't the most convenient for anyone involved.
"Not much to say," she said. "Scarlette and I were the same age, but since she was technically born before me, she took the spot of firstborn."
His brow furrowed, perplexed. Ophelia didn't bother clarifying.
It's not like there's anything interesting about the bastard child of a lowly maid anyway.
Diuex, how she wished she could have a smoke right about now.
"Next time, strap that demonic thing to you if need be." The huff that came not far behind Emile had she and Noé turning to meet an annoyed Vanitas who held his book up against his shoulder. "It was a hassle reading while it stuck around like a tick."
"He likes you." For some reason not even I understand. "You should be nicer to him."
"I'm not your damn charge for you to be ordering me around like that."
Noé's brow furrowed at the comment against him. "You're wrong, Vanitas. She asks very nicely, so it's only right to comply."
"How does that not sound like orders?"
Tired of the back and forth, Ophelia interrupted their small bout only to receive an equally annoyed glare from Vanitas.
"You picked a heavy-hitter to hunt down."
I know.
Which was why she brought him along.
Heaving a long sigh, he told them to pay their tab so they could leave, claiming that if they wanted to catch that thing it'd be better to set up before night fell. They didn't have time to waste then. Dusk was already falling, blanketing the village in orange and dark reds. Night would follow soon enough.
"How come?" Noé asked once they were out of the inn.
"It's far easier for it to hunt at night," she replied, sparing neither a glance as she walked ahead of them. "We need to be prepared for it and then we'll draw it to us."
"Draw it out to us?"
Ophelia only nodded. There would be time to explain once they were situated in the nearby forest.
With each step though, the familiarity of dread's hand started to sink in. Her hand fell to her waist where the faint glimmer of the lantern she carried warmed her side. On her shoulder, the coolness of Emile's cheek grounded her as he nuzzled against her own.
Reassuring her.
The gesture only made her sicker.
|Fifteen years ago. The Delacour Duchy.|
Her small chest heaved as labored breaths cut through her pained lungs. Every muscle in her body screamed at her, too exhausted to continue. But relentless as she was, Scarlette did not give her any such reprieve.
Fingers gripped the hilt of her short sword tighter, grounding herself to take the brunt of the slice that came towards her. Dainty feet stepped forward, the single-layered skirt on her training attire parting as she danced around the grounds towards her, her sister's hands adeptly holding her own thinner yet not any less deadly blades.
Steel struck steel with a clang that rang through the grounds. Ophelia felt the muscles in her arm give, her defense faltering.
"Hold!" ordered a deep voice somewhere behind her.
She couldn't, but thankfully, her sister stepped back with a jump. Unfortunately, she was quickly rushing in again, the steel of her blades catching the faint light of the sun that was coming out of its slumber after a long night.
Ophelia twisted her grip and with stubbornness she couldn't fathom the origin of rushed forward to meet her halfway. Clashing with her was stupid, especially with how tired she already was, but anything less than trying was unacceptable.
Steel clashed against steel once more. This time, however, her fingers jerked at the force of her sister's hit and she lost hold of her blade. Her eyes followed the blade as it spun midair and didn't leave it even as gravity began to pull it down again.
All air left in her was punched out as she was tackled forcefully out of the way. The blade fell with a clutter on the ground where she'd stood until it settled in silence. Her and Scarlette's labored breathing mixed as her sister laid on top of her after having shoved her. Too tired to even push her off, Ophelia only grumbled a quiet 'you're heavy' before Scarlette deigned to move.
"How rude," Scarlette said with a huff, her hands coming to her hips as she sat before her. "I just saved you!"
"Did you have to shove me so hard?" Ophelia grumbled still lying on her back and not getting up. Not like she could.
"Had she not, it would've struck you."
She turned her head sideways to meet the gentle gaze of their brother as he stepped forward. Copper tresses were tossed thanks to the early morning cool air that passed through, curled every which way except right. He too was dressed ready to spar, though he seldom did against them, and when he did it was only as a lesson.
Raphael crouched down before them, eyeing each before stopping first at Scarlette.
"Your form is improving, Scar," he complimented. Her chest puffed with pride as a satisfied grin came to her face. "But you're still leaving yourself wide open. If it were anybody faster than Phel or with any more accuracy in their strikes, it'd be plenty easy to disarm you."
That deflated her quick enough.
"And Phel."
Ophelia turned away from him upon hearing her name, not wanting to hear the lists of her 'rights' and 'wrongs' since she knew very well one was far longer than the other. He wasn't having any of that, though. His large hand landed on her head and forcefully turned her to look his way. The smile planted on his face didn't give anything away, either.
It never failed to amuse her—and freak her out, honestly—how he always seemed to do everything with such a changeless smile.
"You've made great improvement on your stamina, but you're still ways away from being able to hold a fight with someone on Scar's level."
Well, yeah, she grumbled inwardly. What did you expect for a seven-year-old? She bit her tongue when the words wanted so desperately to sneak past the lock on her lips.
"Does that mean I'm going back to sparring against Ludi and Lori?" she grumbled. She liked the twins, but she hated being paired with them to train. Training was already hard enough as is. More so when training with them meant she had no sparring partners most of the time.
Raphael shook his head, then helped each of them stand up. Ophelia felt her legs shaking underneath her from the strain and she couldn't help glaring back at Scar who simply dusted off the skirt around her trousers. Why she insisted on fighting like that she would never understand.
"You'll remain with Scar for now. We will have to add to your daily regimen, though, if you want to keep up."
Ophelia didn't know whether to be glad or annoyed. But since she could stay and spar against Scarlette, she supposed it'd be the former for now. If grudgingly.
With their morning sessions done, Raphael dismissed them. Ophelia waved back at her sister who left with her attendant to ready herself for the day before leaving herself, strutting out of the training grounds and towards her room.
The light filtered through the opened windows now that the help had opened the curtains. The brightness of the sun struck her for a moment as it hit a reflective surface across from her and she squinted. Ophelia turned towards the source to find one of the many portraits that hung all around the mansion halls.
She'd seen most of them by now. Remembered where some of them even hung. This one however was one she almost never stopped to look at.
It was a family portrait. One that had been painted not long after Emile was born almost two years ago. Ophelia supposed it was out of Mother's sheer happiness since she finally had the son she'd always wanted.
They were all there.
Father and Mother sat at the center; she was holding the tiny baby that was her youngest brother in the silkiest of bundles with tufts of his deep red hair sticking out. Scar and Syb stood next to her by the armrest. Father held Claire's hand as she stood by his feet with a small flower in her own hand while Ludi and Lorri stood by his armrest. Regal as she only knew him to be when he was out on his official duties, Raphael stood behind Father, the mess of copper hair slicked back on one side to frame those bright eyes that were so different from the others.
'That's because I have my mother's eyes.'
After he had said that, she wondered about something for a long while and every so often afterwards.
Did I have Father's? Or…did mine look more like…
Her chest tightened and she gripped at the front of her tunic. And where had she been during that portrait? Not a very nice place. Not from what she could remember anyway.
"Phel?"
Opal eyes looked up beside her to find Raphael whose bright gaze fell on her before turning to the painting between them. His mildly perplexed expression changed quickly into a smile. A small one, but gentle.
"We should get a new one done," he pointed out and stretched out his hand for her to grab it. She didn't. "What about one of just us, mm?"
"Us?" she repeated.
He closed and opened his hand again, asking for hers, and this time Ophelia took it. A yelp came out of her as he pulled her up into his arms with ease she hadn't expected. He settled her against him and with an arm to prop her up against his body went on through and out of the hallway where they'd stopped.
"Of course," he continued not long after he started the way to her room. "I've had one done with everyone, just them and I, so why not one with you?"
He had? Ophelia didn't remember seeing those portraits anywhere around the mansion. Still, interest piqued, she gave it some thought.
"Would I wear a dress?"
"If that's what you want," he replied.
Her cheeks turned rosy and her eyes bright, the opal turning to a bright silver with streaks of pink and blue. "A really pretty one!"
Raphael laughed at the enthusiasm that suddenly drove her. "The prettiest one we can find."
"Yes!" she shouted. She gripped his shoulders, shaking them with what little might her tired muscles had. "Let's get our portrait done, brother!"
Raphael chuckled and nodded.
"Then let's go shopping for that pretty dress later today. How about it?"
"YES!"
Ophelia would come to love that portrait. Would stare at it for hours on end whenever she had the time to do so, engraving the image into her mind's eye.
Finding out that it hadn't survived the fire that overtook the mansion that fateful night would break her heart to pieces, blurring the image she had so painstakingly memorized until, eventually, Ophelia wouldn't be able to recall the color of her brother's bright eyes or that ever-lasting smile.
"The Beast that Devours Hearts—Le Cannibale. That is the name of the malnomen."
A chill ran down her spine. It finally had a name.
Night had come quicker than she thought it would, but luckily it was still enough time for them to strategize about how they'd go about hunting this 'devourer'.
"It devours hearts?" Noé repeated, not in the least disturbed by the moniker. Then again, he had never met it before.
Ophelia nodded once before leaning her head back against the tree whose base she sat on. They sat across from her but a few feet away sitting against a tree of their own. Hiding between the foliage was best, she'd learned. The only source of light that gave them even a semblance of security was the soft gleam of her lantern that now sat in the middle of their makeshift circle.
"But you mentioned that the ledgers spoke of decapitated and disemboweled bodies," Noé countered, befuddled. "How does that match with the curse-bearer with this particular illness if it only goes after their hearts?"
"Usually it will only rip off the heart of its target and leave the corpse undisturbed." Ophelia scratched at the itch that suddenly came over one of her eyelids. An itch, an aching. "Unless they fight back. If they do, it does too."
Vanitas' gaze fell upon the grimoire he held in his hands. "The Cannibal is a mimic. It matches the abilities of its prey and uses its own strength to overcome it before taking what it wants."
"As for what you asked about before," she said, eyeing Noé for his attention. "It hunts at night to create terror in its prey."
"To what purpose?"
"It can't see." Dull opal eyes lower to the lantern between them, the blue hue of the astermite reflecting off her clear eyes giving them a similar shade. "But it can sense emotions. Pain, joy, sadness, fear—I'm unaware how but it tracks them down. The more visceral the emotion, the easier it is for it to hunt the person down."
Vanitas hummed under his breath as if in thought. "That explains its methods. Out of all of them, fear is easiest to induce."
There was more she could tell them, but it would all be unnecessary information. If all went as she planned it, this would all be done and over with and they would be out of harm's way before long.
"Does your book say why it wants hearts?" she asked, her voice but a quiet whisper now as she labored away to quiet her mind.
He shook his head. "It only says that it takes what it lacks, yearning to have it returned."
Ophelia sank into herself, the grip on her whip tightening at the vague answer. Silence fell over them for a brief moment before Noé spoke up, the words baffling them at their absurdity.
"How sad."
Vanitas made his bewilderment vocal, bickering like he always did with Noé about how ludicrous of a statement that was. Noé wasn't backing down from his idea, though.
"But if it's a curse-bearer and its heart is missing, then it's because of Naenia, right? She must've taken it."
"Even if that is the case," Ophelia objected, unlatching her whip from her belt and holding it by her side. "It can't just go about killing humans."
"…what?"
The breath that hitched from Vanitas made her dull opal gaze lift. Perplexion furrowed her brow at the sudden confusion in his. He took out another book, this one smaller. Ophelia recognized it as the one where he made his own notes and watched attentively as he flipped precariously through the pages only to abruptly stop them with a pointed finger. Bright blue eyes flashing across the pages concerned her, even more so when they widened at some sort of realization.
"The victims here in Thierry," he spoke in rapid breathes, "What were they?"
"What do you mean 'what'?" she asked, her brow furrowing deeper.
"Were they vampires?" This time his voice was a loud hiss.
Ophelia opened her mouth to answer but she stopped to think for a second. Gears spun, her mind searching through all the information she had. It'd killed so many before and she knew all of them by name and cause of death for easy access. Rapidly, she went through all of them in her mind and the more she did, the tighter the knot in her throat suddenly became.
In the end, Ophelia came to the same conclusion he suddenly had in mere seconds.
"They were all human."
CAW!
A cacophony of crows sounded behind them, the rustling of their wings against the canopies of the trees creating an explosion of noise that struck them to their core. A silence fell upon the forest then. An uncanny sort of silence that had everything else stopping in its tracks as if to listen.
Her heart threatened to stop along it all as the sudden rustling of leaves rose in the air.
Dull opal eyes turned up to them and motioned a finger to her lips. Noé nodded. Vanitas' eyes narrowed, hand at the ready on his dagger.
Ophelia too reached slowly up to her shoulder where Emile remained static. They had done this dance and song before, so he knew what to do. This time, though, it'd be a little different for him.
Her finger brushed against his head. He turned up to her, awaiting his order.
"Stay with them," she whispered.
A heavy footfall crunched dead leaves under its weight.
"CAW!"
The cry of crows this time was distorted and flooded her ears like a tsunami crashing against land. Harsh and deep it rang. Then a different one took its place. A high-pitched squeal resembling that of pigs pierced her eardrums now. It grunted, squealed, then both.
Silence fell once more.
Then a person's voice called out through the quiet.
"My pigs, they escaped. Would you…help me?"
Throaty. Harsh. Guttural. It sounded human but it didn't at the same time.
"Please…before the monster comes."
Brow furrowed, Noé's violet eyes stared forward as if seeing something amidst the darkness. Perhaps he could see it; out of all of them, his position and his eyes would allow him to see it. But surely he would see the same thing she often did.
Just a shadow moving in the darkness. Shapeless. Malleable. Overwhelming.
"Is…someone there?" Its voice had softened, becoming a mixture between the high-pitched one from before and a human's. A child. "It's dark. I can't find my way. Please, won't anybody help me?"
Vanitas' gaze and firm posture never wavered. Ophelia could tell he was as wary and keen as she was. Soon, though, wariness would give off its own scent.
"Don't be scared. It can't hurt you." An adult this time. A man's voice. She recalled one of the latest victims there in Thierry being an older male, a father. "It's just a story to scare children."
Noé's own guardedness would give them away soon enough, too. They surely hadn't encountered something like this thing before. They wouldn't know what had to be done to remain unseen by it. She did. If it caught the scent of them, she knew they would fight. She couldn't have that.
They couldn't have them interfere more than was necessary.
I need to do it. I need to call it's attention.
Ophelia breathed deeply through her nose and let her mind wander for a split second. It wandered to her siblings, to those she had loved, to the one who took care of her.
To the happier moments. To the horrible ones. To the saddest one.
"What do you mean…they're dead?"
A creak of wood sounded above her. Violet and bright blue eyes widened at something above her.
"There you are…" It turned her stomach to hear a distorted version of her brother's voice coming from deep within its throat. Hot air smelling of sulfur carried down, chilling her to the bone. "Phel."
Ophelia moved the instant she heard the tree trunk crack. Its crashing to the ground scared the crows away, sending cries of panic into the air.
Hand gripping iron firmly, she twisted her whip and turned it into the lance before the heaviness of a weighted slash could catch the side of her head. With her feet far from firmly set on the ground, taking the brunt of it was more than enough to send her flailing a good number of feet away. Arms and legs scraped against hard dirt before she struck the floor with her lance, stopping her momentum.
Damn. This is harder without him.
She'd forgotten how heavy it hit now that Emile wasn't with her.
"Mademoiselle, watch out!" Eyes peered upwards just in time to see Noé landing a good kick to the beast's shoulder.
It growled deep in its throat, the squeal of pigs and cawing of crows mixing into an infernal noise, and lifted its front claws to attack. Kicking off and vaulting on her lance, Ophelia managed to stab through its front foot before being thrown off.
"I'll keep its attention!" she shouted back at them, landing safely this time around. "Help Vanitas with what he needs to cure the damn thing!"
Violet eyes wavered, uncertain if to listen or not. A growl of her own did the trick though as she shouted back a fierce, "Go!" moments before the massive jaw of the beast came down upon her. Iron clashed against ivory, slick saliva and hot sulfuric breath striking her as the thing breathed through its open mouth with her lance stuck between its jaws.
"Immobilize it!" a shout came from somewhere.
Fucking hell.
A cracking had her moving again. Ophelia undid the lance, rapidly removing her arms from its maw before it could clamp down on her. Sprinting away to give herself some distance, she turned, snapping her lance back into one piece, before catching the trail of the cannibal as it charged towards her.
Opal eyes ran red. A water double replaced her as the target of its launch in the blink of an eye. Side-stepping it, Ophelia twisted her lance before stabbing the side of its neck. This time when it howled in pain, people—the voices of children and men alike—joined it in a horrible chorus.
Before she could snatch away her weapon, Ophelia yelped the instant her feet left the ground. Her feet hiking onto its neck, she levied her own weight against it to pull out the blade of her lance and let the backward momentum of its rise lift her into the air.
Leaves and branches hit her as she went up but she ignored them to instead focus on the water double beneath her. It was fighting as expertly as she could, one of her eyes focusing on the split image she saw in her mind, distracting it while she regained a bit of her breath. Grasping onto a thicker branch in her hand, Ophelia dangled a bit, one eye closed to better focus, before pulling herself onto it.
Immobilize it.
She'd never attempted such a foolish thing. Mostly because she had always been busier trying to survive its harrowing attacks than anything. Now he was asking her to stop it?!
Putain d'enfer.
But far be it for her to not try. It was the reason she brought them with her.
Taking a deep breath, she let the coolness of the air settle around her before stopping it altogether. Around her, countless droplets amassed, snatched from the oxygen around her as they coalesced above the grounds the beast and her double took up.
Vibrant red eyes took one glance at the lance in her hands before thinking better of it. No, it needed to be thicker and stronger. And much more resilient than what her lance could withstand. Ophelia knew of one weapon she could recall from memory that fit the bill.
The droplets collided, rippling together until they formed the weapon she saw in her mind. A spear, sturdy steel and perfect grip, mechanically enhanced to become a bident with a single press of a button.
But bigger, even sturdier.
As if following her thoughts, the water joined amongst itself, becoming a handful of bidents that floated midair around her. An unused stream fell to her side, enveloping her lance and turning it into a replica of the magnificent weapon she remembered.
Lend me a hand here, Louisette.
Without warning, she leaped into the air in between her water spears and readied hers as gravity spun her down towards the beast.
Rain.
No, it wasn't just rain.
Spears?
"Noé! Buy her an opening!" Turning back to Vanitas, he watched intently for a moment before the bright blue hue of the Book of Vanitas moved him into action.
How was he supposed to do that though!? Midway, he sensed something beside him only to turn and find the little automaton that always accompanied Mademoiselle Ophelia around. He thought it odd that it was apart from her, but didn't have time to question it when the cannibal, noticing his approach, readied to lay a heavy claw down onto him.
Noé lifted his arms and crossed them before himself to brace for the impact, but stopped short when Emile used his arms to perch himself in front of him instead. The turn of a cog clicked into place as he opened his mouth to let the brilliant blue light of the astermite shine through.
Red eyes flickered at the way dots of light lit to life in front of him, light just as bright joining each into a field of symmetrical shapes, forming a makeshift shield that took the heavy brunt of the beast's claws.
A gasp escaped him, a question yearning to follow, but realizing now was not the time, he focused instead on his one task.
Give her an opening.
With the automaton protecting him, this might actually be doable.
His mind no longer on dodging attacks, Noé sprinted forward and jumped in midair, a heavy foot ready to fall on the beast's midside. A paw lifted and crashed against the blue crystal pane that Emile conjured again, this time cracking a bit against the force of it.
Noé didn't falter.
The audible crack of what felt like thick bone vibrated through his leg and up his spine along with the guttural howl the cannibal let out. Seeing his chance, Noé spun on his heel upon landing on the ground and slashed at its abdomen only to feel something tougher than skin and muscle under his hand. Not letting himself be easily distracted, Noé swept its legs with one swipe from beneath it before turning and stepping down on its legs with enough force to hear its knees cracking as horrifyingly loud as its claw had. A yelp mixed with pig squeals filled the air as it held its broken claw against its injured stomach.
Through the sharp claws of its paw, though, Noé caught a peek of what he'd hit.
Iron. Bars of iron formed a makeshift cage hidden beneath thick skin and fur. Something rattled inside it as it moved, the objects rolling back and forth with each step it took. Where the iron ended, lanky hind legs that cracked and clicked back into place with every step grounded themselves.
Red eyes watched horrified as the claw he'd broken did the same, the disgusting sound of limbs breaking as they repositioned themselves striking sharp through the forest.
A roar unlike any he ever heard stopped him in his tracks as it screeched in his ears. High-pitched and deafening, he clasped his hands over his ears, but couldn't help the sudden bout of dizziness and blurred vision that came over him. Through it, though, he could see the cannibal charging towards him.
But before it could even reach halfway, a spear that rivaled the size of one of the tree trunks pierced it through into the ground. The cacophony of screaming that spat from its snout couldn't get past its razor-sharp teeth before a volley of spears rained down on it, piercing it further into the muddied floor.
"Watch out!" He heard Vanitas' warning, but unable to move, he couldn't protect himself against the onslaught that fell so indiscriminately.
Thankfully, Emile's astermite could do more than just those small shields from before. The automaton, having retrieved the lantern they'd left behind somewhere lost amidst the battle, tossed it before him, not caring where it landed. Running to it, Emile jumped on top of it before opening his mouth and conjuring a shield that surrounded him in a sphere. The wayward spears bounced off the hexagonal pieces only to dissolve back to water before reforming and heading upstream.
Violet eyes followed the streams of water that ran upward only to see as Ophelia spun midair for momentum, more water rushing into the vibrant cerulean spear she held in her hands, and falling right into the screaming maw of the beast with enough force to shake the ground beneath them.
A raw silence fell almost like a punch to their guts and ended just as abruptly with Ophelia shouting at Vanitas.
"Do it! Now!"
The Book of Vanitas shone in Vanitas' hands, his operations shining in the air as he did what he had seen him do many times now.
With this that thing, too, will return to normal.
With its true name restored it'll return to what it was. Or simply turn to dust. After what occurred at the masque ball, Noé's heart grew heavy at the thought of another person having its existence stolen and now erased by damage it couldn't recover from. This one, too, surely with how distorted it had become, would turn to nothing but dust.
At least, whatever's left of them will be set free in the end.
Not far from him he saw Vanitas flinch. A feeling sank in his stomach at the sight of his face contorting from that smugness he was so used to seeing to something akin to bewilderment.
"That's…not possible…"
Vanitas' disbelief tainted his words and filled Noé with a sense of quiet dread.
"Vanitas?"
"What's the hold up!" Ophelia shouted, her grip never leaving the hilt of her water spear and feet grounded on the cannibal's throat. "Cure it!"
The intangible weight fell heavily on Noé as what he thought were unimaginable words fell out of his lips.
"I can't."
He…can't?
Ophelia didn't have time to parse through the meaning of those two simple words when the cannibal shifted beneath her. Red eyes fell down to its head only to widen at the sea of mist that suddenly had them surrounded.
Merde.
It sank and disappeared into the mist before the curse itself could travel out of her mind. Her water spears clanged to the ground as she caught herself in time to land safely. The mist dispersed around her feet only to crawl back in as silence accompanied it.
It was still here.
Eyes scanned the clearing their fighting had inadvertently caused, the mist growing thicker around them but staying low to the ground. Behind her, she could hear Noé clamoring out of Emile's astermite shield. Not far to one side, Vanitas grumbled to himself and parsed through the black pages of the book, seeking desperately for a solution to whatever problem had impeded him from cleansing the damn thing.
Creak.
A disjointed step. One practically silent to them. Barely audible to her hearing. Ophelia's head snapped upward in the direction it came from. There wasn't anything visible in the darkness living in the treeline, but her eyes caught the ebbing of the mist near Vanitas.
Ophelia didn't know what to think.
She only acted.
It took less than a second for her to rush to his side and push him out of the way. Even less than that for the cannibal to spring out of the shadows with its maw wide open. Dull opal eyes wavered at the black void that stared at her before it snapped closed.
A blinding pain struck like a hot flash on her shoulder an instant before it disappeared back into the darkness without a sound. Her hand shot up to her shoulder as if to maybe stop the pain that was to come to her shocked system.
Warmth leaked through her fingers.
Eyes wide, she stared to find her whole left arm ripped from her body. Her mind spun, the pain threatening to come flood in and shut her whole body down, but Ophelia bit down on her lip until she tasted blood.
She couldn't let it blind her now. It wasn't just her here.
"M-Mademoiselle!?"
A dark-skinned hand pressed against her empty shoulder, his hand and white clothes staining with the scarlet of her warm blood. Blinking away a blurriness that was starting to come over her eyes, Ophelia looked up and felt a tinge of confusion at his expression. Then a wry chuckle escaped her lips.
So you can be worried about something.
Dieu, she shouldn't be glad to finally have something about him that she didn't hate altogether.
"Eek."
Emile's little squeaky voice calling her was soft, and guided her to where he sat, so prim and proper before Vanitas. The so-called doctor sat where he'd landed, a mess of limbs as his bright blue eyes gawked back in disbelief. Staring at her but almost seeming like they were staring somewhere far away, too.
Shock.
That's what it looked like.
Before him sat Emile and beside her little automaton was the lantern she carried. Enough astermite to fuel the energy he needed to create shields that were strong enough to withstand the cannibal. It was what usually helped her be on even ground with the beast. Now it'd be good enough to protect them. That beady blue look in his metal case of a head stared at her blankly, knowingly.
He knew what came next. As did she. She just didn't like it all that very much.
But before that…I need to make sure, they're okay.
"Monsieur Noé?"
Those violet eyes wide with concern snapped up to her. Ophelia offered a pale smile before grabbing his arm with her hand and shoving him towards Vanitas and, more importantly, towards Emile.
His shock must be overwhelming, she thought in passing as she watched him stumble back. It wasn't like she had much strength with all the blood loss.
Her smile didn't falter as she gave the order.
"Emile, sauvegarde."
His mouth opened and the shield erected around them, countless hexagons binding together like pieces of glass melted together into a magnificent piece. A soft blue in color, the see-through pieces were clear as glass but mightier than even the strongest steel.
"There," she mumbled to herself, her legs starting to shake a bit underneath her. "All safe now."
"Mademoiselle Ophelia!" His fist clanged against the glass, the sound echoing in her eardrums—or is that my heart beating?—but didn't even leave a scratch. "Mademoiselle Ophelia, stop! What are you doing?!"
What had to be done. She couldn't fight it; forget the missing arm, she'd soon be too weak from the blood loss to see or move. And they were no match for it, either. There was just one option left in that case.
Give it what it wants.
Once it had it, it would leave.
Her feet moved on their own. Her body knew what was to happen now, it seemed. It would be a wonder if it didn't after all that the times it had happened before.
Sorry, she apologized, if to them or herself she wasn't quite sure. But this way is best.
Pale lips smiled before she turned and slowly made her way across to the middle of the clearing. Noé's fist struck the glass over and over and over, the sound of it thumping against the sturdy walls muffled from the inside. As if it would stop her, he continued calling her name.
Mademoiselle. Mademoiselle. Mademoiselle.
"Please stop! Ophelia!"
She did, but only because she was now in the middle of the mist, the coolness of it swaying around her as she stared down at her feet.
It rose from the mist and darkness; its hot, sulfuric breath sank down against her cold body, sending a chill down her spine.
It wasn't doing anything, though. It stopped because it sensed nothing. No emotion to be found. At least, not from its intended prey.
Right.
Ophelia's hand trembled as she reached down and undid the latch of her dagger from her whip. Her grip feeble, she wrapped her fingers around the hilt as tight as she feasibly could before staring right into those empty sockets.
"See you…on the other side."
Her voice was barely a whisper with what energy she deemed enough to spare. She used what was left to lift her hand and stab it right through its socket. It didn't even flinch. Instead, its jaw fell open, dislocating and cracking as it did so, slobber dripping from between its jagged teeth before it sank them into her injured shoulder.
No strength left to even scream, Ophelia only gasped at the intrusion of hundreds of teeth piercing her skin and the little bit of warmth that escaped her as they sank deeper. Its mouth alone covered her torso and bit harder as she splayed her hand on the yellowish-white of its skull. A bloodied hand printed on it; it bit down harder.
Finally, something cracked. Many things had before that, but this one robbed the last bit of air from her lungs.
Its jaw dislodged and as easy as wet paper, Ophelia fell back on the ground, the mist dispersing away from her body. Her head fell to one side. Sadly the side she hadn't wanted to face.
They shouldn't have to see this happen.
No one should.
The only comfort she could vaguely think of giving them was a faint smile, but suddenly her body jerked as something struck her. No pain came. Instead she could only hear the way her skin and clothes ripped, the way her bones cracked, the way its claw reached into the cavity and simply pulled away.
It was that easy.
A last bit of blood spurted through her mouth, staining slightly parted lips with color at last, as a true dullness came over her opal eyes, turning them a ghastly milky white.
A/N:
Goddamn. I wanted to write this chapter for the longest, especially that last part, but i had no idea how to go about xD The Cannible's intro was initially going to be different; actually a brief intro at the end of last chapter from what I can remember. But instead I decided to give it its own dedicated chapter seeing as he's the big baddy for Ophelia's story.
And well, about what will happen with Ophelia now that she's x_x, well, that's for next chapter lol It might take a bit like this one did. I have to write in little spurts each day because my hands aren't what they used to hehe. I'm pretty sure my carpel tunnel's coming back, but oh well! Nothing some anti-inflammatory can't fix xD
Anyway hope you guys have a good day! Happy Halloween for those that celebrate it! Next I see ya'll will probable be next year if anything lol So Happy Thanksgiving, Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year for all you who celebrate!
Hope you enjoyed the chapter and stay tuned for the next update!
