They noticed the light at first, a flickering light as by an open flame. After a quick, hurried discussion, they doused their lanterns, falling into darkness as they crept towards the light with the skill of a hunter, maid, amateur spy and (former) vengeful obsessive, all professions well-versed in silent steps. Soon they heard low muttering and bare feet padding on stone. As the light grew brighter, Maria motioned everyone to remain in place as she crept forward. The light seemed to be coming from the bend of the passage, and she cautiously peeked ahead.
Her eyes caught a blonde woman in ragged clothes that had once been neat, well-kept commoner's garb, to judge from their quality. Now it was stained as if the woman had been wearing it for several days without bathing. In fact, this close Maria could smell her, an intense, unwashed scent. Blonde hair that might have once been finely cared for, for even now the possessed a shine, was matted and tangled, and there seemed to be bits of food on it.
A strange haze surrounded the woman, quite unlike the plumes of smoke Maria was familiar with. The darkness seemed to flare and spark from her like the fuse of a firework. It seemed concentrated over her heart, but despite this she seemed completely unaffected.
Maria gestured for her companions to come closer as she continued to creep up on the woman, listening to her words. The woman seemed to be muttering under her breath, speaking with reverence. Maria eventually got close enough to hear what she was saying.
"…suffer… that noble-fucking slut needs to suffer… she was no good…" the woman muttered as she walked along the passage. Her steps where familiar and assured as if she knew the way. "… she stole him from me… but now she's nothing, and I win…going to make her suffer… she needs to suffer more… damned bitch and her little noble bastard… "
A strange tranquility came over Maria even as rage suffused every fiber of her being, seeming to fill every pore and strand of hair, every muscle and sinew…
Her saber was in her hand, a part of her noted. She walked down the passage as if down a hallway, as if a the head of a grand procession. Or a funeral march. The blonde woman didn't seem to hear her, too engrossed in her own self as Maria came directly behind her, sword raised.
A pair of arms wrapped around her knees as a hand grabbed her wrist and another snaked to cover her mouth. At the same time the air suddenly blew, and a haze came over her sight as wind magic roared and swirled around her. Surprised and unbalanced, she toppled, but surprisingly gentle hands kept her from striking the ground. Even so, someone sat on her legs and another grabbed her free left hand and tangled it with their legs, as she heard Rafael's panicked voice hissing in her ear.
"Maria, NO! Calm down!
She was calm. In an endless ocean of rage, anger and violence, she stood in a calm island of cold fury, ready to bring forth a massive wave of death. Calmly.
Her calm meant she didn't try to throw anyone off, merely summoned abyssal darkness to her extremities, using their own contact with her against them. The hand was removed from her mouth, eldritch light shining from it as whoever was holding her arms began to loosen their grip.
"Maria, don't! What if we need something she knows to free your mother? What if there's some kind of lock and only she knows where the key is?" Rafael hissed frantically into her ear. "Please, calm down! Don't kill her yet, you can always kill her later!"
Maria blinked at the eminently sensible suggestion, willing her completely calm body to relax. The abyssal darkness winked out. "Ah," she managed to say. "You are correct. I was hasty. Please forgive me."
"Let go of the sword," Rafael said.
Very calmly and reasonably, Maria released the sword. Rafael caught it on his forearms and bicep rather than let go of her wrist, as if expecting her to take advantage of the opportunity, but he was correct. Maria could just kill the woman later after torturing her. She was glad he was here to remind her of such things, as a husband should when his wife erred.
With the thought, she abruptly realized that they both lay on the ground, the front of Rafael's body pressing against her, the area between his legs pressing up against her rump. A sudden wave of lust met a wall of mortified propriety, even as memories from Cainhurst flickered though her consciousness, confusing her further as she remembered being both aggressor and ravished.
"Ah, Rafael…" she said, trying to sound in control. "Could you please get off of me?"
"You're not going to kill that woman, are you?" Rafael said, not moving.
"You make an excellent point about killing her later," Maria said, trying to get her breathing under control as unpleasant memories were discarded expediently, leaving on maidenly nervousness, propriety and confused lust. "So I won't. Not yet. But if you keep pressing yourself against me any further, I will likely greatly enjoy it."
There was a pause, and then Rafael hastily scrambled off her back. The passageway was dimming as the woman, unaware of what had transpired behind her. Maria recognized the wind magic as one that isolated noise so it did not leave an area.
"That's it?" Larna Smith said, still gripping Maria's arm. "'You can kill her later'?"
"The hour is young," Rafael said. "And it worked, didn't it? Let her up so we can catch up. What did she say that set you off? Reluctantly, Maria was released, and she took a moment to straighten her hat before holding out her hand for her sword. Rafael hesitated only a moment before handing it to her. The women seemed tense, ready to jump her again, but Maria merely sheathed the blade.
Maria gestured for them to follow her as she began creeping towards the light again. Larna Smith deliberately stepped in front of her, taking the lead. "I am almost certain that woman is Estella Almera, the presumed accomplice. She was… speaking of rumors people in my village spread about my family, and among her words she implied they had been t-torturing m-mother." A stutter? How odd. She was no innocent maiden, who had yet to flay the flesh from a woman in the woods with nothing but her dagger and some stones.
Miss Shelley abruptly quickened her pace, raising her crossbow, and only Larna Smith quickly plucking off the bolt on its groove kept the blonde woman from dying as the string snapped on nothing. Even as Larna Smith tried to prevent the maid from getting closer and likely smashing the woman's head open with the butt of the crossbow, the passageway widened, revealing another chamber with signs of former habitation. There was a central table that, from the discarded plates, cups and candle holders, was meant for communal eating rather than any sort of experimentation or vivisection. Various wooden chairs were scattered as well.
The walls contained several caves that had seemingly been sealed off with worked stone or Earth Magic, and doors had been set into them, likely to serve as rooms. Many doors had fallen off their hinges or were otherwise damaged, though a few still stood. They could hear running water coming from opening without a door next to an earthen stove that seemed to have served as a kitchen area. A smell pervaded the whole area, fresh and unpleasant and bodily.
The woman headed towards one of the doors, fumbling at her belt pouch before pulling out an old key that she fitted into the lock and turned. The door swung open, and even from the passage there came a wave of foulness, a reek of human filth. Even Maria, hardened from hunts in the sewers of Yharnam, felt an urge to gag at the freshness of the smell.
On Larna Smith's head, the magic tool pointed dramatically at the open door.
"You still alive, you whore?" the blonde woman said as she stepped into the room, ignoring the nauseating miasma, voice suddenly fierce and hateful. "Well, let's see what we can do about that."
As Maria and Miss Shelley scrambled forward, all stealth and subtlety lost, they heard the sounds of fists beating on flesh.
As the doorway came into view, the room beyond it filled with the light from the woman's lantern, placed on small table, Maria saw a figure lying tied to the frame of a wooden bed. She saw the blonde woman with once fist slammed into the figure's midriff, another fist raised high and ready to come down.
And she saw one of Larna Smith's projectiles, accelerated by wind magic, flashing past between her and Miss Shelley and slamming into the blonde woman's head.
The woman collapse like strings with their puppet cut.
"Remember," Larna Smith said, voice suddenly as authoritative as someone who had once been a department director should be, "you can kill her later, after we get testimony from her."