Blood of Yharnam: OC-Tober Day 3 - Sneaking
Prompt taken from @/marycreatesart's prompt list on bsky.
Writing and drawing in whatever order I want for now, I'll likely revisit the other prompts but this one hit me like a train! This ficlet features my OC, Emmeline Weaver, her parents, and an NPC named Deacon Clearwater.
Peering into a moment of a young Emmeline Weaver playing in the Voiceless Chapel courtyard within the city of Yharnam, in the company of a spider, eventually overhearing a brief conversation between her parents and the local deacon.
There is practiced grace, when it comes to catching insects. Footfalls fall gently against dewy grace, as little hands reach towards a spider that rests on the leaf. Childish and chubby as they were, they carefully guided the spider unto the young girl's hands. A victorious smile blooms upon Emmeline’s face, as she lowers herself onto the ground to spend time with her newfound friend.
Even the way Emmeline had sat down was calculated, gently onto the ground to ensure no grass stains would mar the immaculate fabric of her white stockings – though her darker dress, she could perhaps get away with by hiding any dirt with her pinafore. However the precise art of hiding stains from her mama until washing day, was trial and error. There was only so far a seven year old could scheme, after all.
Though her affinity for bugs alike was well-known by her parents, her mama was keen on ensuring that Emmeline did not rummage about their own garden for such things. The occasional butterfly fluttering and landing on her hand was fine, but any creature too close to the dirt or hidden too deep in the geraniums was answered with a prompt hoist by either her mama or papa to the nearest wash basin to clean her face and hands.
Thus, the quietness of the Voiceless Chapels courtyard was more than a perfect hunting ground for a bug enthusiast. After service, Emmeline’s parents would stay behind to speak with the clergy and the Deacon, speaking of the Old Ones, the sermon, and things a child could only sit and stand for so long. In which her parents would then allow her to play in the church courtyard till their departure. If she was lucky enough, with a friend, though her frequent playmate was absent presently. For music lessons, as the Deacon so answered.
But Emmeline was artful in keeping herself entertained, as the lone child of the Weaver household. Flower petal counting games were played, drawings were scribbled lovingly yet wildly in charcoal, and bugs were frequently conversed with. The company of the spider was more than enough for the time being, while it ticklishly traversed the plane of Emmeline’s hands.
“I wonder if you’re hungry” the girl pondered, “I know I am – mama and papa always wake me up so early for church, and it must be very early for you too.”
While she sat beneath the shade of the taller bushes of the courtyard, there was the scuff of foot on stone from behind. Several voices chattered through the loggia that curled around the courtyard, in which the bushes that Emmeline hid behind acted as an impressive barrier. Emmeline perked up, listening.
“...recently disturbing.” Mama. Emmeline hovered one hand over the spider as if to hide it from her mama’s view, shimmying away deeper into the shadows of the bush. Emmeline gently hushed the bug, as if it’s presence would be far too loud.
“Children oft have creative imaginations, though I can understand your concerns,” The Deacon. His voice always did sound calm during the homily, enough to lull one to sleep. Sort of like her papas. But Emmeline knew her papa said it would be rude to, thus she never did. “How long have they been...”
“Frequent enough.” Her papa. Emmeline could only imagine him fidgeting with his glasses, as he always does. There’s a rustle of paper. “Enough for her to recall and draw what she saw, such as…”
The Deacon sighs quietly, “If you would allow it, I could try to speak with her at a later time. Perhaps I can provide counseling and insight,” He says in an even measure, “Though I would suggest to visit a Church clinic or a higher up, if her fits become worse.”
With the small roof Emmeline’s hand provided, she feels something soft against her palm, as she lifts her hand slowly to look. The spider seemed to have thought her hands to be a very place for a web if not a brief place to catch lunch. A shame really, she didn’t think her hands would have enough space to make a home for the creature. Entranced by the small spinning in her hands, she lifts the spider up towards the morning sun to watch the glimmering threads. Only for the shadow of the figure, pass over her and the gap between her hands. “Emmeline – there you are.” With a gasp, Emmeline’s hands lowered, carefully to not startle the spider in the small world it had begun to create.
The sun catches her papa’s dark hair in a warm brown hue, dark eyes gazing down upon her in patient expectancy. “Your mother and I have been looking everywhere for you,” he sighs, bending at the waist to lead down to his daughter’s height. “Did you not hear your mother call out before?”
Emmeline flushes, as she carefully stands up. “I’m sorry, papa,” she pleads, “I was busy watching my friend – see? They’re making something very pretty!” She beholds the spider to her father, knowing in confidence that he was unflinching when it came to many things. Not like how her mama was, when Emmeline would show her a worm.
Her father peers into the crevice her hand made, taking in a moment to decipher what creature Emmeline had befriended. “It would seem your friend was busy, but I don’t think we can bring them home,” he muses, “They live here in the garden, after all, and it would be very sad to leave home.”
Emmeline’s gaze holds a wisdom that only little girls were privy to, “I don’t think I would like it much either…” she admits, “I wouldn’t want to have to make my web again, or get bullied if the spiders at home didn’t like me much.”
In her fathers cooled expression, there is a hint of mirth as he nods along to his daughter’s logic, “Then shall we head back to our own web, once you put down your...friend?”
With an enthusiastic bob of her head, Emmeline turned to the bush in which she found her companion. It was a sad thing, for the spider to become so comfortable in Emmeline’s embrace, and even sadder that Emmeline had to undo its hard work. Yet, with a gentle hand and some guidance, the spider would then leave Emmeline’s hand and into the dark underbrush. Emmeline then peeled away some of the spider silk, her little hands still sticky as she went to clasp her father’s awaiting fingers. Emmeline glances back at where she left the spider, waving as she chatters with her papa.
“Is mama still talking to her friends?” Emmeline asks, glancing about as they step off the grass and onto the paved path. The Deacon and her mama, nowhere in sight. “Mama likes to talk with her friends a lot after church.”
“Something of the sort – she wishes to invite the Deacon to luncheon,” Her papa replied, allowing his daughter to swing their hands together as they walked. “Many important things to speak of, about today’s sermon and then some.”
Emmeline nods, “Will Lio be coming for lunch too, then? I don’t think I know his favorite food…” she scrunches her brows at the dilemma.
“I’m sure your mother will let us know if the Deacon is keen on it, but for the time being, let us go find her...and perhaps wash your hands, before we do.”
