Throughout its existence, the Entity has spectated the suffering of others with sadistic delight. It rarely grew bored of the constant loop of trials between survivors and killers. If It did, It would always add another pair in the mix â or in other cases, just one. The Entity was very familiar with how involving a loved one could create tremendous drama; it was always refreshing to see the killer torn between love and dutyâthe power imbalance that they previously enjoyed could make them so predictable at times, which does become stale eventually. So, while the Entity could relate in their shared interest of inflicting pain unto others, the killers needed to be reminded that they were also pawns in Its game.
Annaâs mother was a very resourceful woman. The wealth gap between the common people and the nobles was becoming ever more drastic and at this rate the only way to avoid poverty was to isolate herself and her child from it all.
However, as Anna was growing up, wearily playing with the carved wooden animalsâmoving them about in the same way she had the day beforeâ Annaâs mother knew that she was yearning for something that she could not provide for her.
The village Annaâs mother grew up in was not far; in those rare moments of nostalgia she would venture into the town, trading furs for the few vegetables that grew in the icy terrain.
This time, Annaâs mother decided to bring her along. Her mother knew the joy of friendship and now that her friends also had children, she thought it best to introduce Anna to you.
You were the only one closest in age and the first time Anna saw you, you were practicing on the barre
Ballet was such a foreign concept to the young girl; her mother had drilled in no other knowledge of the world besides how to survive. So seeing your leg bend in such a graceful mannerâ it fascinated her. You reminded her of a doe: lithe and innocent.
âWhat are you doing?â She asked you, her accent similar to yours, though one peculiarity indicated that she wasnât from this humble village.
Did she seriously not know what ballet was? Even the most miserable of peasants knew what it wasânot that your family was particularly rich, but your talent was observed from an early age and meant you paid less for your education than others.
âBallet. Itâs a dance. I practice because I want to be one of the best and dance for the Tsar himself.â
You could tell by the awed expression on her face that she would have been content simply watching you but her curiosity and the strangeness of her demeanor made you want to know more about her
âWould you like to dance with me?â
Anna knew nothing of shame, so she eagerly took you up on your offer; ready to learn more about this elusive art form
To say Anna was clumsy would be an understatement. Well, you though, itâs not so much clumsiness as it is brusqueness.
Anna saw her reflection in the only mirror that was long enough for your dancing purposesâ and she wasnât a fan. âIâm no good.â
âIt took me lots of practice to be this level, so donât be mad you canât move like me yet.â
Despite your words of encouragement, Anna didnât much like dancing. She had two left feet--poor thing--and she could recognize that her dancing did not compare to yours at all. That being said, whenever the young girl was brought about she would always ask you to dance.
She could watch you for hours but even you would get bored and ask to play something else instead.
Then Anna and her mother didnât come around anymore.
You wouldnât know that years later she actually did, but you were already further into your education, which meant you no longer lived in that little town anymore.
You did achieve your goal and danced in one of the most opulent opera houses that Russia could offer; your audience consisted of many noblemen and even the Tsar himself a few times.
Your friend Anna became a distant memory as you were showered with bouquets of flowers, applause, and much praise.
The Great War brought much change to your success; work slowed to a near standstill as resources were now being funneled into the army, leaving luxuries like theater to cease for the moment.
Whether it was patriotism or desperation for getting involved in the war-- you do not remember. However, you do remember losing your squad members in the forest. The fog developed quickly, growing so thick that you needed to feel around to make sure you wouldnât--
You tripped, falling face first into wet dirt.
You instinctively looked back to see what it was you tripped on, only to feel your stomach drop. It was one of your squad members! You crawled over quickly to inspect them, calling out for the rest of your unit to wait up because someone was hurt.
Your pleas softened into silence when your eyes fell on your comradeâs face, and the deep gash that split his head open and revealed the fleshy insides.
A soft yelp escaped you, and you quickly clasp your hands over your mouth to quiet yourself. His wounds were fresh, that much was obvious. So, even in your panicked state you could tell that the assailant could not have gotten far.
The quiet of the forest was no longer something you could dismiss; the somber atmosphere was now tainted by death and your mind wondered if your other squad members met a similar fate.
Attempting to gather yourself, you quietly yet cautiously continued onward. A soft humming grew louder as you went deeper into the forest. It sounded vaguely familiar, so you tried to approach with caution but her hearing was astute. You could barely make out her figure: a very tall, well-built woman with .. rabbit ears? She lifted her arm and your adrenaline kicked in as you ducked out the way of some sort of projectile and ran away.
When you both entered the realm of the Entity, both of you were clumsy in understanding the rules of the game. This meant that you were able to just barely survive the trial and that neither of you got a good look at one another.
After becoming more prepared, though, there was a noticeable change in the killer youâd come to know as the Huntress. When sheâd run out of hatchets trying to down you, she was, of course, extremely livid. She is one of the most competitive killers in the game and her immaturity could almost be heard whenever you drop a pallet on her. So, as she lunged to swing on you, she abruptly paused in the middle of it-- she practically almost tripped on her own feet trying to stop herself!
You didnât bother to try to figure out what was wrong, so you ran away and hid in a locker-- you were new, how could you have known that you left scratch marks behind? She followed, her movements slow to not alarm you. Just as it seemed she was about to leave the room, she jerked her body to the direction of the locker and opened it.
You let out a startled cry, her hatchet sinking into the wood right next to you, as she grabbed you by the throat. She didnât pick you up just yet though. She kept you in place, examining you and manipulating you to catch better glimpses of you.
The way you moved and your appearance were all too familiar to the Russian woman. Words were something she no longer had practice in yet with a quiet and scratchy voice she managed to speak your name.
You stared at the woman in the mask, trying to search for anything that would help you indicate who she was and how she knew you. The mask hid her features well and seeing as you hadnât seen Anna in years so nothing about this was ringing any bells.
Did you dance for the Tsar, she asked slowly in your native tongue.
Thatâs when the realization hit you and a mischievous little smirk appeared on the Huntressâ face
She pulled you out of the locker and onto a hook.
Like Evan, Anna is unlikely to ignore the rules of the game the Entity has set up. She is very bloodthirsty and you dodging all of her hatchets only serves to further her competitiveness. That being said, she does offer some mercy. For example, she hardly ever kills you (mostly because she canât catch up but if you ask her itâs because she likes you) and if she notices that youâre left too long on a hook and youâre going to enter second phase or die, she chases another survivor towards your direction and then backs off, allowing them to get you off hook. Unless theyâre an absolute dick-- in which case, guess whoâs getting the mori?
You arenât too nice to her either, sometimes. Those hooks are painful and you take on a similar attitude of competitiveness, thinking of this as a childhood game despite its macabre nature. You will always teabag and point at Anna if you are about to leave through the hatch, jumping just as she throws her hatchet right at your head.
Be prepared to be kidnapped from the bonfire a lot by this lumberjill.
Youâre the only one who knows what lullaby sheâs singing, as your parents sang it to you too, and every once in a while you will sing it for Anna. This is when you see her at her softest.
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