Greece (11): The hunt, the city. (FTHD - 26)

Walking through Yharnam was a unique sensation, something new; the buildings bled history, a history bathed in blood. The blood exuded the m

Walking through Yharnam was a unique sensation, something new; the buildings bled history, a history bathed in blood. The blood exuded the madness of a distorted tale, and madness gave voice to the night in the form of howls...

For Stheno and Euryale, it felt like being pulled into a nightmare; they were gods, yet they had never felt so insecure before.

For Doll, it was like walking in the garden; Yharnam welcomed her, madness embraced her, and the moon guided her steps safely.

The three of them walked slowly through the streets and alleys, roads illuminated with flickering orange torches, burning slowly as the night seemed to never end.

It didn't take long, at least for Doll, for the three of them to reach a specific street, unnamed, it didn't matter, but the three people on it did. A teenager and two men, surrounded by dead bodies, all piled up in a burning heap.

The greatest illumination was something Stheno and Euryale appreciated, the smell of burnt flesh and decay, not so much.

The two men were seated, cleaning their equipment and clothes, while the boy stood guard. He seemed unfazed by all the blood covering him, let alone his weapons, which were cleaned with a swing of his arm, splattering the blood away from the metal.

"Any plans for when you get back home?" One of the men asked, the one wearing yellow hunter clothes.

"Saying something like that in the middle of a hunt is bad luck, Henryk." The other man, the one in church attire, sighed and replied as he wiped his pistol clean of blood. "But to answer your question, I'll spend some time with Viola and my daughters."

"Spending time with family is good. Probably going to see one of Arianna's girls myself." Henryk, as the second man called him, shrugged. "And you, boy, wanna come with me? I'll pay if you're short on cash."

"He's good. Don't try to drag him along to see prostitutes, Henryk. He's not old enough for that stuff."

"But old enough to kill?" Henryk scoffed before spitting on the ground. "Old enough to kill, old enough to screw. Don't be a puritan, Gascoigne. The church did you wrong."

"Who are they?" Stheno asked Doll beside Euryale, the three of them observing from afar, neither of the men seeming to notice them.

The boy did, for a moment, his right eye turning as black as the night sky before reverting to its yellowish color, but that didn't surprise either of the two sisters, they having recognized him long ago.

"Henryk, the one in yellow, is an old hunter." Doll replied, remembering when the man was a denizen of the dream. "As for Gascoigne, the Good Hunter spoke of him sometimes, a good man, father of two daughters and husband to a kind woman."

Doll didn't introduce the 'boy,' the Hunter, it wasn't necessary.

"Ignore him, boy. He doesn't even come here for the women, just for the music and drink." Father Gascoigne spoke. "He's older than me, his spine barely stands up, his thing down there has been dead for a long time."

"Slander. Know that I'm still in my prime." Henryk retorted. "And know also that many women fancy older men like me, we're a rarity nowadays."

Passing thirty in Yharnam was tough, Father Gascoigne was in that range and already considered 'old,' Henryk in his sixties? Practically a living fossil.

"Do women in Yharnam have issues with their grandfathers?" The boy, the Hunter, asked Father Gascoigne. "I've heard of issues with fathers, but this here is new to me."

The serious manner in which the words came out of the Hunter's mouth contrasted with the meaning of the words, something that made Doll's eyes sparkle with amusement.

It had been a long time since she had seen her Good Hunter be sarcastic, even if his voice didn't convey it.

Father Gascoigne had to hold back his laughter, while Henryk clicked his tongue. Even with the night being calm, the three of them being together, a hunt was no place for jokes or lack of attention.

This brief respite they were having was already a rare thing to happen, unprecedented, almost.

"Smart boy. If I didn't know Viola would chop your dick off if you betrayed her, I'd bet he's your bastard son." Henryk pointed at the Hunter. "Where did you find him anyway?"

"Rude." Euryale spoke with disdain.

"I didn't find him. The boy found me." Father Gascoigne replied as he stood up. "In the middle of a hunt no less. Surprised to see such a young hunter." Saddened too, but that wasn't said.

The Hunter was one, maybe two years older than Violet, the man's youngest daughter, and two, maybe one year younger than the eldest. Seeing someone of his daughters' age hunting was something that unnerved him, just imagining any of his daughters in the Hunter's place...

He didn't even like to think about it.

"Let's keep moving. Heard footsteps to the south." The Hunter interrupted the conversation.

Stheno and Euryale were accustomed to abrupt changes in behavior; they themselves had a public 'persona' and another when it was just the three sisters, but the way everyone's demeanor changed surprised them.

If the atmosphere had been relaxed before, even with all the blood and bodies ablaze, the moment the Hunter spoke, that same atmosphere was suffocated with a thick seriousness and tension.

Not only that, but something more as well...

The Hunter's yellow eyes told a story, the tremble in Gater Gascoigne's arm another, Henryk's sharp nails one more.

... A hunt was a hunt, a hunter a hunter. Thirst for blood and madness accompanied the two almost always.

"How many?" Father Gascoigne asked, not doubting the Hunter's senses.

"Many. More than twenty." The Hunter sniffed the air. "Thirty, perhaps, armed with pistols and bloodied." The scent didn't lie, gunpowder and iron...

"They've already killed then. Likely crazed villagers." Not beasts. That was good. "Let's move." Father Gascoigne wasted no time in leading, with Henryk following closely behind, the Hunter bringing up the rear.

The strongest leading first, the most experienced second, ready to react and provide support, whether forward or backward, the youngest, quickest, and with the keenest senses last to react to ambushes more swiftly.

Their actions were swift, controlled, and coordinated. One moment the three were calm, albeit on guard, the next, swiftly moving to hunt.

Stheno and Euryale had keen senses, but neither of them heard what the Hunter heard. Something in Yharnam dulled their senses, be it the fog, the madness, or the city itself; they couldn't tell.

Godesses or not, they were born of humans and like them, their insight was not great enough to perceive the veil covering Yharnam.

The first, or first to move in this case, were Stheno and Euryale; Doll followed closely behind. As much as the two didn't like humanity as a whole, some parts of it were tolerable; their battles were one of those parts that both particularly enjoyed watching.

They quickly realized upon arrival that what awaited them was not a battle, carnage was a better name; Doll called it a hunt.

The 'fight' had already begun shortly before the three arrived, as the Hunter had sensed, the group numbered about twenty-eight, men and women, armed with makeshift weapons, machetes, pitchforks, and torches, few with worn and rusted-looking pistols in hand, even fewer with sanity remaining in their eyes.

All civilians.

Gascoigne and his Hunters Axe initiated the 'fight', both moving faster than any ordinary human had the right to move.

The group leader, or at least the one who walked in front, didn't even notice the man and his axe's arrival, being split in half in a shower of blood, the two beside him didn't have much reaction before meeting the same fate.

Three deaths gave the group enough time to react and attack Father, two from the right, one with a machete and another with a pitchfork, three from the left, two pitchforks, one improvised axe.

Gascoigne retreated, trying to avoid being surrounded, Henryk provided him with the time needed for that, two mercury bullets were enough to take two men out of the fight, the impact sending them flying backward and colliding with the rest of the group.

Three blood bullets were enough to kill another three, three shots to the head, coming from behind Henryk. The Hunter had better aim and greater speed.

Before Gascoigne could fully retreat, the Saw Cleaver in the Hunter's hands transformed; its greater reach ensuring his safety as he cut through the group from the sides.

It wasn't the first time the three hunted together, their coordination was good. The Hunter barely blinked as he shot the molotovs Henryk threw, covering the group with dirty oil, Gascoigne ignited the spark.

The 'fight' didn't last long. A few minutes, maybe less, the three didn't want to drag it out; wasting energy was foolish, risking further injury even more so. None of these were the real reason the battle ended quickly...

"No bullets left, lad?" Henryk asked as he dragged one of the bodies to the burning pile.

Doll didn't mind the smell; it was bad, but it didn't matter. Stheno and Euryale minded, not enough to miss the conversation, but enough to cover their noses and mouths with their hands and furrow their brows.

If it was truly the smell of burning flesh or the massacre ahead, they didn't say aloud.

"Mercury is for beasts. A scarce resource I don't intend to waste on humans." The coldness in his voice concealed a pain that Henryk knew he had lost long ago. Empathy killed the young; Henryk was old.

Everyone knew they were hunting humans; some less human than others. The real beasts were few.

The Hunter had plenty of bullets stored.

"Don't go dying for being too frugal, lad." Henryk didn't reprimand the Hunter, it wasn't his duty, nor his right. "Good hunt." He praised.

"Good hunt." The Hunter's only response.

Stheno and Euryale sensed there was more in those two words than in all the others they had spoken since then.

"We're done for today. The night is long; I don't want to see all of your horrors." Father Gascoigne said after the fifth pile of people burned. Cleanup wasn't their job. "Need help getting home, Henryk?"

"I'll manage fine on my own. Give my regards to Viola and her two brats." Henryk tipped his hat on his head. "Don't go mad, Gascoigne, lad." A simple nod from both was his reply.

Dying was always preferable to madness. Not that the former would stop the Hunter; the night was long, the dream was more... Reality was confusing...

"Anywhere in mind to go, lad?" Father Gascoigne asked the Hunter.

"Cathedral. I'll see if there's any work there." The Hunter replied. "Maybe sleep after. I'll see if Arianna has a spare bed for me." He just needed to remember to clean up before.

Arianna was accustomed to cleaning certain fluids from the sheets of her establishment; of all, blood was the worst. The Hunter lived covered in it.

"You must be the first lad your age I've seen going to sleep in a courtesan's house and not using her services." Gascoigne chuckled amusedly. His smile was tired. "Come on. Viola said she'd prepare more food today and that you were welcome. Rest a few hours; it'll do you good."

"I don't want to impose. Tell her I appreciate it." The Hunter declined, or tried, as he was prevented from leaving by an arm snaking around his shoulders.

"It wasn't a request, lad. Violet and Gwendolyn want to see you too." Gascoigne sighed even more tiredly. "What do you have to do to make my two daughters like you so much? I don't know if I should congratulate you or skin you for the achievement, which do you prefer?"

"The first. I don't want to leave Viola a widow." The Hunter laughed; Gascoigne did too, they both knew it wasn't a joke.

"Come on, lad. The night is long, rest. All men need rest." The Hunter didn't resist as Gascoigne pulled him along, even if he could.

The memory shattered as the three watched the two men walk away, the streets of Yharnam fading back into the kitchen of the house where the sisters lived on the Shapeless Isle.

None of the three spoke. Stheno and Euryale absorbing everything they had seen while Doll was lost in thought.

"Why this memory? If this was truly a memory..." Stheno was the first to speak after a few minutes of silence. Her voice wasn't as sharp as before, but contemplative.

What she had seen made her think, not just in one direction. Yharnam had that effect on people, whether they were gods or not...

Doll didn't know what to answer. She hadn't chosen this memory; the Good Hunter did. She didn't know why, but something told her it was more for her than for the two in front of her.

"You two are used to seeing humans from above." Doll replied after thinking. Her mind not entirely focused on the conversation.

"And this memory put us in the same place." They were still more spectators, but they had felt mortality more than ever.

Euryale didn't know if it would change anything; she felt it wouldn't, Stheno did too, but they would try for Medusa. If not, they could pretend.

"Will you show us more?" Stheno didn't know if it was a question or a request. Maybe both. A part of her wanted to see more, even if she was scared, horrified in a way.

Yharnam was unlike anything she knew, they knew. Something in the city horrified them to the core. The Moon. But something drew them to know more, like moths to a flame...

"I'll ask the Good Hunter. For now, the dream was long." Doll replied looking out the window. "It's late. I'll prepare dinner."

... Maybe they would burn if they got too close.

[...]---[...]

I won't focus too much on Yharnam, as much as I adore the city, the meaning behind it, all the mysticism, the slow pace, and everything else; the focus of the story is still FATE. Perhaps in the future, I can do something solely based on Bloodborne, but for now, it'll just be a few chapters here and there.

Well, apologies for the delay; I had to go over a few things, buy my friend's wedding gift, a suit for the ceremony. But here it is.

I won't ramble on too much. Good night, everyone, and happy reading!

PS: Violet and Gwendolyn are Gascoigne's daughters; she doesn't have a name, so I named her after the mother, Viola, and the father, Gascoigne. Violet and Gwendolyn.