sleepytimejunction | fear the old blood

fear the old blood

[Rumors travel around in Garreg Mach fast. Most of the time, they're baseless and don't really catch Ashe's attention; he's admittedly more interested in making sure he's performing well. He has a roof over his head, and he wants to keep it that way, so he keeps his nose out of trouble.

But there is one that hangs on his mind. That there's something deep in the bowls of the church, a monster, a beast. That particularly bothers him, hangs over his mind, makes him think about how beasts have been improperly revered or maimed in the past. He's seen it in all manners by now. If the church does actually have a creature they're harboring, he can't help but wonder why.

It wouldn't be the first church to keep secrets, after all.

Ashe eventually decides that having all the facts won't hurt. If he's wrong, then he'll be happy to be. If he's not, well...

That's why he has his sword strapped to his back and his gun at his hip. He has more items he's harbored since the days before Lonato officially adopted him, most of them locked away in a trunk just in case. It's night, and most everyone is back in their dorm rooms. There's security, but Ashe knows their patterns enough to keep out of sight. He's spent his life as a thief, then as a hunter, now a student; he can manage.

It takes a bit of research, but he does find a secret path that starts in Rhea's office and extends to a rather old fashioned elevator. He opts to not use it in case it causes noise, instead climbing down the chain as he makes his way.

He doesn't expect what he finds, a grand room under the monastery, deep inside, full of stone caskets.

And something else.]

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And yet I would still entertain it. So you must not be afraid to ask me for what you desire.

[With long, sure strides, they make their way up the hill together, until the doorway to the workshop begins to draw near.]

Even setting my feelings for you aside...I would not have you keep things from me. Or hide things from me. So please, be forthright, and I will listen.

I... well, I understand, but I also want to value you in the way I think you deserve. Which means also thinking that you deserve kindness.

[The workshop doors are unlocked, as they usually are, opening with ease. There's the fireplace, crackling with flames. Piles of books, many of which are from before Ashe's time here, but some are his personal collection too. The benches are there if he needs to finetune his weapons--

But there's the kitchen now, too. Small, humble, with cobblestone flooring. A bedroom too where there had been none before. Maybe the dream grew a bit to accommodate for Ashe when Gehrman was no longer present to care for other hunters. He isn't very sure himself.]

[Fortunately, he's not the sort of vampire incapable of crossing over a threshold without invitation — and even if he were, Ashe's implicit invitation is probably more than enough to get him through. So he steps inside, angling his body to permit Ashe through the doorway without bumping anything unnecessarily, and then carefully sets him down a little in front of the warmth of the fireplace.

What a long time it's been, since he laid eyes on so cozy a place as this. A little home. Wood where there had always only been stone. Luxuries for the living.

It's magnificent.]

Forgive me, but I must ask. This place is a home; does that mean you reside here? But we are still in your dream, so this is not...real, is it? Or is it?

I did, for awhile. At least when I was a hunter. But without the first hunter here anymore, the dream only fulfills its needs to one person, I think. And... well, that's mean.

There aren't any other hunters anymore. And there never will be.

[He rubs the back of his head.] I know, it's kind of strange. There are some things that are still real. Like, I'd burn my hand if I touched the fire, but also the temperature here never changes, so the weather is always the same.

I don't really understand all of it myself. ...Gehrman used to say to not worry about all the details and just worry about hunting beasts. So a lot of what I know is asking the Doll or researching. Gehrman wasn't too forthcoming.

No, no, be mean. I find you charming when you're rude and petty.

[He winks at Ashe; it works better now that he's got two eyes to do it with.]

But you say that there "never will be" Yharnam hunters again. Why do you say so? How can you be sure?

I'm rude and petty?

[The wink does make him a bit flustered for a moment, though. At least until he has to think about Dimitri's question.]

Well, it... Um. [He rubs his forehead, as if trying to remember something.] The hunters were only able to fight back because Gehrman was able to make a deal with another being. A Great One. Its presence is what made a hunter's abilities possible, as well as the dream and the Doll being alive.

I... relieved Gehrman of his post. After that, the presence came down and I defeated it. So...

[What happened after that? He isn't sure, but he finishes off with:] So it can't make anymore hunters to perpetuate the circumstances. Nobody else should suffer like Gehrman did.

I see...that may explain what I've been feeling since you brought me here. The lingering echoes of this Great One, perhaps? If there was once a creature of such vast power present in this place, it would not surprise me to have an awareness of it.

[He reaches out, though, and rests his hand lightly against Ashe's cheek, cupping his face with fondness.]

Still...I am concerned. Beings of great power do not leave the world lightly. Either something of that Great One remains, or there is more here to uncover than either you or I yet know.

You may be right. I mean... I'm still a hunter. That hasn't gone away. The messengers are still here...

[Ashe pauses, then closes his eyes to lean into Dimitri's hand. There's something just out of reach, just at the tip of his tongue.]

Even their spells sometimes remain for a long time. So maybe there's something residual like you said. I feel like I'm still stumbling blind into all of this and figuring it out as I go.

Did it do anything after you defeated it? Speak to you, say anything? Can you show me the weapon you used.

[His thumb strokes slowly over Ashe's cheekbone, but there's an even tone to his voice that suggests preoccupation with some greater thought.]

Was the Doll present? Would she have seen anything?

No-- no, it didn't do anything, just... a lot of blood. The Doll was waiting by the workshop, she wouldn't have seen it, I don't think.

[Ashe's brows pinch and he presses his cheek more into Dimitri's hand.]

Uh-- give me a second. I can show you which weapon I used, I just-- I just need a second.

[His head and heart are pounding, leaving him confused.]

Ashe...?

[Abruptly alert, he shifts a little closer on reflex alone, searching Ashe's face as if to mark his slow-rising stress. Even without being as attuned to his little love as he is already, any vampire worth half their salt would be able to pick up on the change in his heartbeat, the wave of tension bleeding in.]

What is it? What troubles you?

Sorry, I don't really know.

[His eyes open and he places his hands over Dimitri's lightly.]

I think I... I just need to sit for a moment. Maybe it's just been awhile since I've been here.

Sit, then. Come, by the fire, so that you may gather your strength.

[Never taking his eyes off of Ashe, Dimitri hovers in a way that's almost comical for a creature his size and build, but doesn't simply scoop Ashe up and carry him over; he waits to let him try to make the walk himself.]

Anything you require, you need only speak the word.

[One hand stays stubbornly in Dimitri's unwilling to let him go just yet, even as Ashe manages to find his footing.

The fire is warm, always alight. As the Paleblood moon revealed itself, the entire workshop was in flames, as if Gehrman knew it was time. But did he know it was time for himself? He isn't sure. All Ashe wanted was to give the old man some peace and be relieved of his position.

Slowly, he sinks onto the floor by the fire, letting out a sigh as he holds his head.]

I... don't remember much, after defeating the last Great One. I remember there being a lot of blood. The Doll was taking care of me for awhile, then I woke up outside of what was left of Yharnam.

After that, I departed for Fodlan. There... wasn't anyone or anything left in Yharnam. Anyone who was left alive and sane found their way out, I hope.

Here. Let me aid you.

[He settles Ashe near the fire, then retreats back a step, a mist overtaking him as he changes his shape into a massive black wolfhound with thick, silken fur and great golden eyes. Whuffing softly, he crowds in behind Ashe and lies down on the floorboards, stretched perpendicular to Ashe's angle and pressed up against his back to make a warm, furry seat to recline against.]

Rest. I am here. Sleep, if you like. I will not leave you.

Oh... another form. All of them have been so cute...

[Slowly, Ashe leans back against Dimitri, turning onto his side so he can snuggle up against the fluffy beast.]

You don't mind?

I do not. I am capable of many forms, when I have my strength with me. The bat you saw in the crypt ages ago was the very least of my abilities.

[He pauses, then indulges an audible boof that doesn't quite align with the dignity of his mental conversation.]

I was mortified to appear before you in such a sorry state. But no more, now.

I still think your bat form is cute.

[For a moment, Ashe is quiet as he nuzzles into the fur. He closes his eyes, running his fingers through the dark fluff.]

I'm glad that I could help you. I always... felt like I was too late for a lot of people.

Precisely how any fearsome creature of the night wishes to be perceived. "Cute".

[This time, the rumbling noise he makes sounds almost like laughter.]

Tell me of it. Pour out your heart to me, while we relax here, and I will listen.

At least it came from me, right?

[He smiles against the vibrations of the rumble, sighing against Dimitri. There's a pause before he lets himself speak.]

...There was this old beggar man in one of the chapels who had a way to keep the beasts out with this kind of incense. He asked me to try to bring survivors to the chapel. There weren't many I could find. A-and so many people I couldn't save.

Even... even a hunter can turn into beasts. If they lose their mind or get consumed by bloodlust. I tried to find this little girl's father and mother, but... the mom already had died, and the father was a hunter. He was already crazy, and I-I had to, um... I had to put him down. I... hated I couldn't do anything for any of them. Even worse, the little girl-- I had to tell her...

Mmmm. Perhaps you did him a kindness, to free him of his madness. Not that it would be any easy task to explain to a small girl about her father.

[He thumps his tail against Ashe's leg, flicking it here and there with slow, rhythmic contentment.]

But I understand. Your heart is kind, and your intentions pure. Every life you were not able to preserve, you took as a personal failure.

[He falls silent a minute, letting the stillness drag on before he begins again.]

You would make a very poor leader of armies, my Ashe, and a very bad king. Perhaps it is just as so that you were not made to be a hunter of beasts. But there is a place for your kind heart in this world. I am sorry that the world was so cruel to you in return.

Someone else said something similar once.

[There's a small, bittersweet laugh from Ashe, and he draws his legs up to himself.]

I got to watch people lose their minds, or just barely keep them. After everything was said and done, there were maybe five survivors out of the city at best. Assuming that old lady made it, anyway.

But you're right. I'd be bad at leading anything. Ruling anything. When I was a kid, I thought I'd just take over my parents' business, but here we are instead.

There is a difference between being a hunter of beasts, and seeking to save others by being a hunter of beasts. They are easily confused, but dramatically different.

[His breathing slows, the rise and fall of his big furry side moving Ashe along with it almost like a rocking chair.]

What was their business? What did they do?

I'm really only good at killing, but even then I hate doing it.

[It sooths him, making him sleepy, slowly.]

Restaurant. They liked to cook and make people happy. I was little when they were around...

And how young, when they left you?

[He's listening, of course. Not just to Ashe's words, but to his breathing, his heartbeat. Seeking ever to calm him from the near-fit he'd had before, when pressed too hard about this place and its history.

Perhaps a different type of history is simpler.]

How young, when you had to take responsibility for others, when others should have kept responsibility of you?

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