The Fishing Hamlet looms below. Rain falls from the caliginous sky, and Shark Giants endlessly patrol the waterlogged lanes.
Maria watches in sorrow, forced to recall her hand in their miserable fate. Over, and over...
She silently clenches her fists.
Patches the Spider hangs on a cliff of the Nightmare Frontier, watching the poor, poor Hunter below.
Yet another victim of his silvery tongue. He'll make a delicious sacrifice, to be sure. Kehehe!
"O, Amygdala, how lucky I am to serve you... and to eat your leftovers!"
@SolonaisKing "I cannot leave, and I cannot die. I must serve the Nightmare. Keeping watchful guard of its darkest secrets..."
Blood drips from her wrists, ever-flowing, and pools around her boots.
Don't trust the Healing Church. Don't trust Byrgenwerth. Damn, if only I could get out of here, and warn everyone of the evil we have committed!
Though I cannot tell how much time has passed. It's probably already too late...
《 "Worry not. I am not easily offended. Admire my work, do you?"
A shadow of a smile teases her lips. "I learned from the best. Became the best. But it was all for nought."
Her eyes dart up to their face. "Who are you, guest?"
The creature's form doesn't shock her. Nothing does anymore. While lies were likely to spew from an enemy's lips - or *bones* - Maria found herself believing them. The bloodtinge ceases, and the Rakuyo is sheathed.
Her gun is not.
She glances at the hand. 》
《 runt of the litter. Ha. Little did she know..."
Her triumph quickly sours.
"My nature is not who I am. I am no more a Vileblood than I am a Byrgenwerth scholar. I would prefer not to kill one with such potential as yourself, so, I propose a peace."
A half-nod, and an upturn of her nose. A look of distaste.
"I would say that the pleasure is mine, but I recognise that uniform. You are an Executioner. Hunters of Vilebloods. Well, I too am of the Cainhurst lineage. As I'm sure you already know." 》
《 A pause. Silence.
"I should kill you where you stand."
Maria ponders over this, as blood perpetually pours out of her wrists, pooling by her feet.
"...but Annalise sent me away of her own volition, after all. She said my bloodtinge was weak. She thought me the 》
Maria's body tenses up. It isn't fear - but the anticipation of potential battle. Muscle-memory tightens her grip on her armaments. Her senses sharpen, like a wolf in a sheep pen. But most of all... there is excitement. A deep, horrid bloodlust.
But her expression betrays 》
《 none of this. She appears calm. Emotionless. Her tone is as controlled and soft as ever.
"Death may claim me on my *own* terms. Not before. Have you come for my blood?"
As the words leave her mouth, blood trails down her wrist and onto her sword. 》
Blood drips from her fingers as she sits motionless on the chair.
"Let me go," the faintest of whimpers, escapes her pale lips.
Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.