SYNOPSIS: Ghost hunting is a term she'd never find herself using again. Not after she's seen what she shouldn't have.
CW/s: tragedy levels of horror (slightly exaggerated), implied gore, animosity, unresolved conflict (that gets on hold) and character death(s? yeah). Please, please dni, this fic is purely sfw but it will go through the darker topics for a bit.
NOTE: inspired by the song "the dentist's swamp" (both survivor and hunter side), recent entry for @i23kazu's ebg. Its honestly an excuse to write smth horrific (IDV AU)
Entering White Sand Street Asylum, the match begins like how they are used to, and especially with where the embalmer found herself in.
Or, well, what should be something that she's used to. After all, she didn't realize that things could change way, way too swiftly.
Avoiding the blade sent by the queen, Furina, the ferrylady kept sprinting from the beheaded ruler in all of her glory. 2 ciphers had been decoded, but they needed to do 3 more, and they lost a member in the cruel game of 'hide and seek'.
It was a shame, really. They were sure that Emilie, the perfumer, would've been able to avoid her should they have relied less on her perfumes and more of her surroundings.
"I thought that an embalmer like you wouldn't have given her the chance of rebirth," the queen seem to call out, their chase continuing as she tried to hinder her with the mirror and fail. "What made you change, hm? Did something happened?"
"Like Hell will I tell you," the embalmer retorted, vaulting a window and slipping inside the next room over the hall. "After all, you'd use what I say against me and everyone else."
The hunter laughed as she narrowly avoided a big glass shard after her, lowering her body before she scrambled up and away. She could vaguely hear the sound of fabric hitting wood as she left the church, her shoes slamming on the ground as her heart raced a million miles an hour.
There was something to be said about getting chased by something that can, in simpler terms, drive one mad. And surely, she would've learned how bad it is to catch a hunter's attention by now... But she didn't.
If anything, it was almost like she was compelled to do it again. Maybe it was something that she couldn't deny, as she has yet to learn her lesson on how to deal with the residents.
Or to even pay attention to where she's heading.
In the midst of it all, she found herself panting, heaving as she tried to get the lady in red away from her. But when she felt that hope was too far from her reach, she felt a hand yank her wrist and pull her over.
She was about to flinch and pull them away, but she fell short when she saw who it was that was trying to save her.
Placing a finger on their lips, they kept crouching behind the abandoned furniture as they heard the soft humming of the hunter. Their heartbeats were beating rapidly, but it didn't took long until the hunter has left the vicinity. At least, for now.
"... There," the novelist whispered, letting go of the embalmer with a sigh. "We should be safe from Madame Red. She's not the brightest like the Photographer, but we should stay cautious. Who knows when she's coming back?"
... Ah. I forgot, she thought somberly. When it comes to matches, they're not the type to joke around... How careless of me.
"... Of course. Although, with the pace we're going I think she will find a difficult time finding a new survivor to go after," the woman explained, standing up to pull the latter as well, facing the once wiggling cipher. "After all, that man is not one to kid around in a match."
Ah, the 'Prisoner'. I have never known what his story is, but to think that someone would have the utter audacity to demote a Warden from his position...
"Mm, but that's besides the point," the novelist muttered, seeing the injuries she retained. "And especially when you were kiting Madame Red, too. Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine," she replied, albeit her tone did sound a bit cold. "I hadn't been hit hard enough to be impaled, thankfully. She's not good with a mirror shard than a sword."
At the corner of her eye, the novelist's mouth seem to open... But it closed, though she did catch the sight of a small frown.
Ah.
"You worry too much, Navina," the embalmer added, reaching over to pat their head. Still, she saw that the frown remained.
It seems she's done it now... How unfortunate.
"I know, I'm just... I suppose being concerned over someone is a little unnecessary," they added, grabbing her hand to pull it away. They turned their head to the cipher, beginning to work on it once more.
"Anyway, let's focus on the match first. I don't want to delay any second we have over something you don't want me worried about."
Charon's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Walking over to their side, she began to turn the cogs, making sure that the machine worked as it should be.
...
The silence is oddly deafening. It was almost hard to ascertain how they're feeling, especially when she's aware that her words led them to be so quiet. Even if they are friends, there were bound for disagreements to arise between each other.
Such is the way of life, especially in a manor that's hellbent on setting itself up for manslaughter with everyone's grim experiences.
The only sounds that surround them were the laughter echoing from outside, the slams of pallets and groans, and even the eerie clangs of the bell when the hunter regained more of her power.
Charon and the others were familiar to the sound. It was haunting as it was enchanting, and even she couldn't deny, she gets scared the more she hears it.
Maybe it reminded her of those church bells that were too big for one to deal with and use, or even those in Eversleeping Town, wherein the 'ringing' you'd hear was the tram's arrival. Whether it's goal was to simply cause a freak accident or for a hunter to be sent off flying for being too careless, she didn't knew.
In those moments of her lack of self-awareness, she could vaguely hear someone calling out to her. It sounded familiar, and yet she continued to ignore it, like she wasn't planning to see who could be bothering her.
"...ey..."
Just what goes on in the manor's walls, anyway? Was there something that no one understood?
"... H..."
Were the others here for a different reason, perhaps? Was she here for someone else to use her like a puppet?
"...ro...!"
Just... what's going on? And who even is she? What even are they?
"Look out!"
The piercing sound of shattered glass caught her attention, and the feeling of time slowed down as she watched the scene unfold in her very eyes.
Death was not uncommon in the world they live in. In a way, death felt akin to the sweet release that they can get from each of their matches. But to the embalmer, it felt like a harsh slap to the face.
Blood seem to pour out right in front of her as the novelist took the hit. The mirror shard had went through to their body, but from the look in their eye, they seemed far too relieved to care of their current predicament than anything else.
"Oh, good... You're finally aware," she heard them say, but it was short lived when the object was yanked from their chest, letting them stumble and fall on top of the embalmer.
No.
Catching them, blood began to pour on her attire out of panic. She could see the queen wipe off her bloodied shard, which didn't give her enough time to process everything.
Hoisting the severely injured novelist, the survivor dashed off, hearing the laughter from the hunter as their hearts began to beat as wildly as it can. Although theirs stuttered as they lost blood at each step, this only pushed her to go faster.
She needed to go someplace safe, someplace where she can safely embalm them, even if the process is as painful as it gets.
"Breathe for me, okay?" the embalmer told them, hoisting them up so their head would rest on her shoulder. "Come on, I need you to breathe. You'll be okay. I won't let you die."
"You won't...?"
"Not if I have a say in it," she hissed, vaulting another window and pallet. The sight of the walls around them seem to deteriorate the longer she carried the injured survivor, causing her to grimace.
She never liked the memories associated with White Sand Street Asylum. They're as unpleasant as they come, and the two were able to attest to it.
After all, the first few times they came to the asylum, it was due to a somewhat foolish quest.
Klee, the youngest survivor, had asked her and a few others if they could explore back then. She has heard of multiple rumors of the asylum being filled with ghosts, and unfortunately for the child, she hasn't been told of the horror stories with them.
And just like any other child who's yet to experience the scare of a lifetime, she asked her, Albedo, and Navina to investigate with her and see if the ghosts were really lurking from down below.
Safe to say, though, the embalmer knew too well of the outcome and made sure that she didn't get to see the things that they had to.
She couldn't forget how it felt to step foot in the halls of the abandoned asylum the first time. She couldn't forget how it felt as though time ceased to move when she caught sight of the bodies laid in some of the rooms, some of them covered with a stained gray cloth, but the stench being putrid like no other.
Klee wanted to see what it was at first, but catching whiff of it had made her stop asking. Even Albedo made sure that the other two can walk through it, his hold on the younger child firm.
It was only when they reached room 13 that she saw an unsightly view of one of the newest patients in the vicinity.
It was too difficult for Charon to explain what she found, but every time she found herself recalling, it was almost like she wanted to hurl. And as bad as it sounds, she knew that it was the safest place they can go.
No man or monster would come a step near that room, and that was their only option for a refuge.
Skidding down the halls, she slipped for a moment before running to her right, making a slight turn to dash towards room 13. The door was open, so it didn't took long for her to slam it open with her right side, barreling in.
Side stepping, Charon pushed herself back and closed her eyes, pushing all of her bodyweight and theirs to close the door shut.
Ca-chunk!
...
The strench was stronger than last time, she notes. But it was the price she had to pay, as its for the sake of their safety.
And it would seem that it paid off, considering their heart beat stopped thundering when the hunter got near. She did screamed in disgust at the smell permeating from the room they're in, making her chuckle.
Ah... It was worth the effort.
Looking down at Navina's body, she laid them down. She needed to ignore the monstrosity of the patient's body that used to reside in the room, since the novelist had passed out.
Turning to the door, the embalmer opened it up enough to let light pass, this time turning to see the damage on the other survivor's body to see what happened.
... Sheesh.
Pulling the handle of the case off of her arm, she opened it and grabbed the items she needed.
No time.
She raised the syringe she retrieved, and the scalpel she had always thought of carrying for an emergency extraction.
It's time to operate on a patient.
@.dxy-drxxm | do not republish, repost, or copy my works anywhere | 2024