[Interesting, he thinks, that the gates are already open and ajar, as though they had expected the company of two visitors prowling in the night. It would not be the first time Vincent’s slipped past cold, iron bars, venturing into territory unknown, but it will be the first time with the warmth of company at his side, a sort of assurance of camaraderie no matter what curiosities they find within.
Most curiosities to him, these days, are banal and barely worthy of mention. Human things, mortal worries — all of it seems so distant, and almost humorous that they had once been so pressing. But there is something mysterious about this place, that calls to him the same way the Great Ones call from the stars or the sea, the voice of beckoning. He finds his curiosity heavier than usual; he wonders if Monts feels the same.
Still, the grin doesn’t disappear, just a slender thing on his lips, crescent as a gentle scythe.]
Of course not. My blade and my bow—and my blood—as always, is yours. I should not think to put you in danger, though—
[He tilts his head up, takes in the facade of the mansion.]
I wonder just what resides in a place like this. It feels lonely to me.
[She beams at his assurances of her safety. Maybe she didn't even need to ask. He has yet to fail her on that front.]
As always, you are quite the gentleman. I'll continue to be in your hands then.
[With that shameless assertion aside, she turns away and knocks on the door three times. She takes a step back replying to Vincent's observation.]
A lonely feeling... It is a mansion in the middle of nowhere. Kind of a pity for whoever lives here really.
[There is a minute pause before it creaks open and they are met with an elderly gentleman dressed in a suit, a manservant possibly. He eyes the strangers before him warily, but is not so unwelcome that he doesn't greet them.]
"Travelers? It is rather late... But hello to both of you regardless. Is there something you need?"
[Monts interjects smoothly, with natural ease and charm.]
Yes, my friend and I would like a room to stay in tonight if it's not too much trouble.
[Yes "a" room.]
If this is a problem for you or the master of the mansion, we're more than willing to go on our way...
[The manservant shakes his head hurriedly as if afraid to offend.]
"Oh, no, no. The mistress and her family are quite hospitable. Please, do come in..."
[He steps back sinking into the darkness within that is barely penetrated by the low lights of gas lanterns and candles. There is a decorated hallway and furnishings, but it feels hollow.
[Vincent clasps his hands behind his back, shoulders straight and proper but wonderment still marring his brow. He’s quiet as the exchange takes place—always one to let Monts take the reins, as she’s more than eager to do—though that same brow pinches more when success basically falls into her lap.
His nods his head in amicability, though the manservant seems gone as quickly as he arrived, like slipping into shadow. Stepping in, he gives her a questionable sort of look, expecting her to follow.]
Only one room? Miss Monts, you will give our hosts a very strange impression of the reasoning why we should seek solitary respite from the outside world.
[In other words: scanadlous. But honestly, Vincent is used to it now, and he cares less than when he was fully human. Besides, there are stranger things afoot. He peers into the deep corners of the mansion, wondering if they shall be greeted by the masters of the home. A lady and her family. No lord?]
But more curious, still… that they should open their doors so willingly to traveling strangers in the deep midst of night. Yes, quite strange. Do you not think we are stepping right into trouble?
[Or maybe it’s the whole point of why they’re here. Monts whims are gravitating things, and Vincent finds himself prone to humor them. Maybe that’s a problem, though he hardly thinks so.]
Oh, I don't know. He didn't even blink an eye when I asked so I think we're in the clear.
[Monts steps inside hardly looking bothered by her "scandalous" request and she's aware that he isn't opposed to it either. She idly replies to Vincent as she looks at the lavishly patterned rugs and vases that sit in obscure corners.]
I'd be silly if I tried to say it wasn't at all suspicious. Although... To his credit, I don't think the servant is trying to pull a fast one on us.
[As if on cue, the manservant returns, holding a lamp by its handle, gesturing for the guests to follow him.]
"I have informed the mistress of your presence. She is... Not well enough to welcome you herself, but she means no offense, truly."
No offense taken.
"Then please, allow me to take you to your room."
[The manservant is polite, but there seems to be a hurried flourish to his movements and his eyes dart back and forth as if expecting to be taken by surprise.]
"Let us be quick. But move silently as well."
[And before Monts can speak up, he starts to walk in one direction, upstairs, his lamplight becoming a yellow dot in the darkness.]
... It looks like he's more concerned than we are for ourselves.
[He gestures for Monts to follow, to trail behind the light that the manservant carries as he descends up the stairs. Vincent moves in long strides afterwards, eyes glancing at the corners of the foyer once they near the top, another habit not quashed from him just yet — the awareness of a Hunter to be leery, though in this case it is bolstered more by intrigue.
Once he’s in earshot, he finds himself asking lowly:]
The mistress of the house is ill?
[Naturally, this would pique his interest. Yharnam was a place of wretched sickness born of defiled blood; before that, when he was still mortal, a time that feels so far that it might be a dream, he had been deathly ill, brought to that terrible city by way of necessity.]
[The manservant pauses biting his lower lip before taking out a handkerchief to wipe at his brow.]
"The mistress and her children... Ah, it is not my place to say and as long as you stay behind closed doors..."
[Monts looks at him carefully before gently urging him.]
You don't have to say too much. Just enough so we're aware. No judgment on our part.
[He's silent as he leads them further down the hallway.]
"The lady and her children are afflicted with... Well, we always called them 'spells.' You see, by and large, they are a perfectly dignified noble family. But these spells... Their flesh... They bloom..."
[He shudders, not wanting to think any more of it. Monts feels the back of her neck tingle, her skin crawling with anticipation.]
"Her children, they will bloom and leave the house. The villagers all keep their doors locked until sundown so I am letting you both stay against my better judgment, but the mistress, she... She will stay. She will wander. We need to hurry."
[And with that, he gestures over to the companions, opening a door with an old key. There is an unused but clean guest room that has its own bathroom, stylish furniture, and a single large bed.]
Vincent thinks of lumenflowers blooming, reaching for the cosmos. He thinks of the minds of those afflicted with knowledge, whose skulls would soften and unfurl like flower petals, or swell like a cloud of fungus. To bloom, for Vincent, is not a word of mystery — he had learned it meant transformation, an awakening, and now it is inherently known in his bones. In his self that had been reborn, held gently in the hands of the Doll, to bloom and blossom one day further.]
And I suspect we are requested to sequester in our room, then, for the sake of remaining well away from the lady of the house?
[He waits for Monts to enter first before following, perhaps more unfazed by this new information than he should be. But he has certainly encountered worse, and to feel threatened by this unknown individual, afflicted by an unknown spell, would be like a wolf feeling threatened by another wolf stalking the halls.]
[The man nods as he steps aside for Monts to enter first. She walks in, pulling the hood of her cloak back, studying the room.]
"Just for tonight good sir. This spell should not last long, but they are known to wander for days on end. If it comes to that, by the second day I will leave you a message and you must find your way back on your own instead."
[Monts glances at Vincent looking tense. He wasn't entirely wrong about his guess then; they were in a sense in the maw of some beast, albeit one that walks around as some creature this man didn't have the courage to describe.
What was sadder, Monts thinks, is that he didn't have the heart to speak with spite, just tiredness and resignation.]
... Alright. Can you let us know by a note if her spell passes over by tomorrow as well?
[The servant nods and ushers Vincent inside.]
"I will lock myself up as well. I'm sorry there is not much time left, but if I find an opportunity, I will give you supplies to make your stay more welcome. You did say just one night after all."
Mm. We don't usually stay in one place for long to begin with.
[Rare that they stay someplace overlong except when necessary. Though Vincent must admit that he feels that old Hunter’s itch, the want to wander the witching hour in search of what violent mysterious lay in the night — though now, it is no longer for the sake of survival, only the strange desire to experience, explore, to know, that drives him.
All the same, though, to the servant—]
We may be your guests, but if you have need, do not hesitate to call upon us. I am well-equipped to handle many a baleful night, and it has been long since I’ve last taken up arms.
[There's a noise on the other end of the hallway and his head jerks back in fear. Without another word, he closes their door, and both of them are left with the sound of a key locking the door. Hurried footsteps slowly fade away until all is quiet.
Monts moves over to the doorknob, twisting it (lightly mind you) to confirm...]
Well. Locked up for the night. Not that getting out would be an issue for either of us, but a key would have been nice.
[Speaking of comfortable, Monts is removing her cloak and draping it across a chair. The dress she wears consists of long sleeves, but her shoulders and collar are bare, making it easy to see the black flower-shaped halo resting on the back of her neck. It shimmers and writhes, but remains in its spot.
Monts takes a seat on the edge of the bed even giving it a bounce or two to test how comfortable it is.]
Actually... Now that I think about it... Vincent, do you even sleep these days? I can imagine that isn't a necessity, but if you're in a humanoid shape...
[Vincent strides over the a window, draped with curtains, where a coat hanger stands at attention. He shrugs off his own — dark and long — revealing a simple plain shirt and trousers ensemble beneath. He had never been a man of unnecessary opulence, only practicality, which had always been reflected in his hunter’s garb. Even now, he keeps things simple — perhaps especially now, there is no need to flaunt appearances or status or human wants and wiles.
He turns to her when he’s done, raising a brow.]
When I was reborn, I did little more than sleep. For what felt like an age... an eternity.
[Held by the Doll, lost in the depths of the Hunter’s workshop until he had strength and agency to be something else — take a human shape, one that he still could remember.]
Now, however, I may go just as long without it. [He motions at the bed.] It is all yours, if that is your desire.
[She thinks for a second before her expression lights up. An idea? Perhaps?? No, it's just her scooting over to one side and patting the empty space next to her.]
Sit. We've been wandering for god knows how long? I seem to lose track of time when I travel with you on the outside.
[Her hands rest in her lap once again. If it were anyone else, it would be a demure pose, but Monts is anything but that.]
There are a few things I've neglected to ask about, but I'd love to hear from you. About when you were human I mean. I know we will probably have an unsavory host to contend with within the next hour or so, but I plan to enjoy my time with you in close proximity to the fullest.
[She's always been unusually forthcoming, but it's quite prominent now.]
[An eyebrow hitching up, his eyes move from the empty space beside her, only to meet her eyes again.]
And do you not enjoy your time with me in our other meetings?
[A quirk of a grin, but in the next breath of a moment, he moves to sit beside her. A respectable distance, nonetheless, but some parts of propriety died when his humanity shifted into something other.]
But very well. What would you like to know? I can tell you the parts I recall.
Vincent, I think you know that I love monopolizing your time.
[They're both creatures in human form, traversing colder worlds. Is it too selfish of her to think that it's pleasant that they have each other's company while there is horror outside their room?
She holds up three fingers.]
I'll start with three questions then.
Like first... Did you ever have a human family? Second, was there any sort of significant other or someone... Or something, I suppose... That held your interest?
And three...
[There's a pause before she continues her line of questioning as casually as ever.]
Who was the most difficult person or thing that you ever had to kill?
[His eyebrows lift incrementally with each question, until he’s well and truly looking quizzical.]
Very well. One at a time.
[The ease of his expression falters, just a flicker of a passing shadow. It’s… hard to delve back into memory from so long ago. Even if he were properly human again, the fog of that time is so thick, so muddled, more impressions of images than true recollection. It’s like peering centuries into the past, into a life that no longer belonged to him. The distant experiences of a stranger.]
I grew up in a small hamlet near the sea. I had a human family there — my only family, I suppose. A mother and a… a sister…
[He shakes his head, pressing at the bridge of his nose as though it takes so much effort to recall, it is almost painful. She did not ask of that hamlet’s fate, nor his family’s, so he does not linger on the subject. Instead, he scoffs as he drops his hand.]
I'm sorry, I cannot remember them well. For the second — you’re asking if I’ve ever indulged myself in a whirlwind romance? I cannot say that I have. After my old home, there was only Yharnam. And that is hardly the proper place to court… anyone.
[A pause, he thinks of saying something else, then decides to move on to question three. This is fine.]
And for the third, I should have to say it was the child of a Great One. Its mother had died, her carcass washed up on the shore of a fishing village; it had crawled out of its womb, alive and mourning its own existence. And when I faced it, it was so… so angry. So impossible to fathom.
[He can still hear its screams, and though they do not chill him like they did when he was mortal, the memory lingers like an old scar even in this new portion of his existence.]
[ Monts listens carefully to Vincent's answers to her questions. Part of her was just expecting it to be light conversation and yet despite his brief responses to each, it said much more to her than she realizes at first. It's like he's talking about a shadow of how he might have been and it's vague if that's actually who he was. ]
... It's okay if you're not able to remember everything from before.
[ And though normally Monts had always kept a polite distance from Vincent, even with her jest and flirtations, this time she reaches for one of his hands to envelop it in her own. ]
I'm glad you're able to tell me anything at all.
[ There's no joking tone, not this time. ]
... Sorry if I made you recall anything painful. I... Don't really wish to hurt you in any way.
[The touch surprises him a little, despite himself. He isn’t used to it without a spark of mischief in her eyes, and the sincerity she offers is warming. It makes him smile and huff a breathless sort of laugh, airy and gone in an instant.]
Miss Monts, do not feel bad for asking me the most basic questions of an individual. [The family part, at least.] Even before I changed, I could not recall. The blood ministration I received as a newcomer to Yharnam had long blurred my memories.
[He turns his hand over, gives her a small squeeze. The contact is welcoming and safe, even for creatures such as themselves.]
It is better to have left that part of myself behind, anyway, I think.
[ Vincent returning her touch by just squeezing her hand causes an odd squeeze within her chest. It doesn't hurt, not that Monts would recognize what that felt like, but she is acutely aware of what the remaining signals in her body are telling her. She lets his hand linger on hers, finding that she doesn't want to let go yet. ]
It was interesting to hear about it from you. I couldn't help, but be curious after knowing you this long.
[ His words about the changes and blurred memories also brings up another thing to mind. Never mind the shuffling noises and smoky moans and groans of whatever is outside their room and never mind the darkness. And though they are very different creatures, they are also alike and she had kept seeking him out in her own way. ]
I think I get it... About leaving a part of one's self behind I mean.
[ Monts looks away from the Hunter but closes the distance by leaning her head against his shoulder, fingers still wrapped around his. ]
When I woke up years and years ago... All I knew was that I was a sum of something known and unknown. And I tried to just live like that, not really knowing and understanding what I was.
[ Her voice is soft and hushed. She hasn't talked about this with anyone else. ]
[Her closeness is grounding and warm. Perhaps it is his otherness that supersedes all human inclination to feel self-conscious, or embarrassed; but Vincent allows her to lean against his shoulder, fingers still laced with hers, and takes in the feeling of being centered, being present, the comfort of listening to someone who can understand and relate.]
And what has happened since? Have you found yourself, or some understanding of who you are?
[He huffs gently.]
You are always so confident, it is truly hard to believe you’d have any doubts swirling about in your head.
[ Outside, on the far end of the hallway, the sound of creaking doors can be heard along with slow dragging footsteps. Monts remains silent for a moment before she replies to Vincent gently pressing her weight onto him, ever so slightly. She hasn't forgotten that they are not alone, but when she's with him... ]
I think... No. I think what I am, it wasn't meant to happen.
[ She's certain of it, clearly recalling the horror that dawned upon her as she finally felt the limits of her body and understanding that it wasn't right. But she learned to live with it, tolerate it.
And it couldn't have been all bad. Not when... ]
... Vincent?
[ As the eerie moaning grows louder, she grasps his hand even more tightly. ]
I haven't told you my real name, haven't I?
[ How silly. They've met with each other so often and she had yet to grant him her sign of trust, the symbol of her wanting more. ]
[The warmth of her press against him. It is distracting, in a way that drowns out all else, the kind that get this heart thudding a little harder in his ribs — please don’t tempt him with thoughts that could spiral into something far less proper, Monts. He swallows, searches her face.]
I don’t think you ever did, Miss Monts.
[Curious, ever curious. Strange that there would still be things to uncover about each other, already knowing what each other is.]
[She may be insensitive to pain but at least she makes up for it by being very aware of others and how they react to her. Despite the eerie scraping against the floor and the ever-imminent groans of the horrors outside, it doesn't seem to distract her from Vincent's steadily rising heartbeat.
The foolish girl within delights in having others react to her. It's evidence of her existence, that there is certainty in the here and now that she's set in.
Looking up at him, her blue-green eyes shine in the dim light.]
I'm Marianna.
[One hand reaches up to cup the Hunter's face and idly twirls his hair around one finger.]
You can call me that from now on. If you want.
[Ah, if only it was more silent around them. If only their door wasn't starting to rattle outside, monsters demanding to be let in and ruin their evening reverie... If only.]
Well, as much as I'd love to be for your eyes only, I don't think you'll be having much rest for the remainder of the night.
Marianna... [He says it slowly, testing the name on his tongue. Her name. There's a simple delight in knowing it, in it being shared with him, and Vincent tilts his face into her touch slightly without realizing it.]
Very well. [The door outside rattles, but Vincent ignores it just for now. Just for a moment.] Then I will call you by your true name, from now on out, since you have been kind enough to gift it to me.
[But the noises increase. And the moment is nigh ruined by how hard the door jostles this time, and Vincent's rather serene expression, eyes taking in her expression, changes to that of an exasperated frown. He sits up straight, glancing towards the door with an exhale.]
[There is something lovely about hearing her true name being spoken by the man whom she's grown so fond of. The warmth of his face in her palm makes her own pulse quicken and if they weren't being so rudely interrupted Mari would try and see if she can pull Vincent in even more.
Marianna chuckles and shakes her head in response.]
Not tonight. I don't think I'm in the mood to reveal myself to just anyone. I'll probably dream until you return in one piece.
[She doesn't feel the need to become the pale moonflower of a creature stained by a dark starry cosmos. Though her words are dreamy and enigmatic, she decides to be human for him instead because that's where her pleasure has been derived from that moment.]
But! Before you leave to lay the beasts to rest... [Marianna stands up from the bed and offers her hands to Vincent, motioning to do the same.]
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sunfloras2020-12-26 11:29 pm
no subject
Most curiosities to him, these days, are banal and barely worthy of mention. Human things, mortal worries — all of it seems so distant, and almost humorous that they had once been so pressing. But there is something mysterious about this place, that calls to him the same way the Great Ones call from the stars or the sea, the voice of beckoning. He finds his curiosity heavier than usual; he wonders if Monts feels the same.
Still, the grin doesn’t disappear, just a slender thing on his lips, crescent as a gentle scythe.]
Of course not. My blade and my bow—and my blood—as always, is yours. I should not think to put you in danger, though—
[He tilts his head up, takes in the facade of the mansion.]
I wonder just what resides in a place like this. It feels lonely to me.
no subject
As always, you are quite the gentleman. I'll continue to be in your hands then.
[With that shameless assertion aside, she turns away and knocks on the door three times. She takes a step back replying to Vincent's observation.]
A lonely feeling... It is a mansion in the middle of nowhere. Kind of a pity for whoever lives here really.
[There is a minute pause before it creaks open and they are met with an elderly gentleman dressed in a suit, a manservant possibly. He eyes the strangers before him warily, but is not so unwelcome that he doesn't greet them.]
"Travelers? It is rather late... But hello to both of you regardless. Is there something you need?"
[Monts interjects smoothly, with natural ease and charm.]
Yes, my friend and I would like a room to stay in tonight if it's not too much trouble.
[Yes "a" room.]
If this is a problem for you or the master of the mansion, we're more than willing to go on our way...
[The manservant shakes his head hurriedly as if afraid to offend.]
"Oh, no, no. The mistress and her family are quite hospitable. Please, do come in..."
[He steps back sinking into the darkness within that is barely penetrated by the low lights of gas lanterns and candles. There is a decorated hallway and furnishings, but it feels hollow.
Monts turns to Vincent, giving off a low hum.]
Lucky us! Let's go inside.
no subject
His nods his head in amicability, though the manservant seems gone as quickly as he arrived, like slipping into shadow. Stepping in, he gives her a questionable sort of look, expecting her to follow.]
Only one room? Miss Monts, you will give our hosts a very strange impression of the reasoning why we should seek solitary respite from the outside world.
[In other words: scanadlous. But honestly, Vincent is used to it now, and he cares less than when he was fully human. Besides, there are stranger things afoot. He peers into the deep corners of the mansion, wondering if they shall be greeted by the masters of the home. A lady and her family. No lord?]
But more curious, still… that they should open their doors so willingly to traveling strangers in the deep midst of night. Yes, quite strange. Do you not think we are stepping right into trouble?
[Or maybe it’s the whole point of why they’re here. Monts whims are gravitating things, and Vincent finds himself prone to humor them. Maybe that’s a problem, though he hardly thinks so.]
no subject
[Monts steps inside hardly looking bothered by her "scandalous" request and she's aware that he isn't opposed to it either. She idly replies to Vincent as she looks at the lavishly patterned rugs and vases that sit in obscure corners.]
I'd be silly if I tried to say it wasn't at all suspicious. Although... To his credit, I don't think the servant is trying to pull a fast one on us.
[As if on cue, the manservant returns, holding a lamp by its handle, gesturing for the guests to follow him.]
"I have informed the mistress of your presence. She is... Not well enough to welcome you herself, but she means no offense, truly."
No offense taken.
"Then please, allow me to take you to your room."
[The manservant is polite, but there seems to be a hurried flourish to his movements and his eyes dart back and forth as if expecting to be taken by surprise.]
"Let us be quick. But move silently as well."
[And before Monts can speak up, he starts to walk in one direction, upstairs, his lamplight becoming a yellow dot in the darkness.]
... It looks like he's more concerned than we are for ourselves.
no subject
[He gestures for Monts to follow, to trail behind the light that the manservant carries as he descends up the stairs. Vincent moves in long strides afterwards, eyes glancing at the corners of the foyer once they near the top, another habit not quashed from him just yet — the awareness of a Hunter to be leery, though in this case it is bolstered more by intrigue.
Once he’s in earshot, he finds himself asking lowly:]
The mistress of the house is ill?
[Naturally, this would pique his interest. Yharnam was a place of wretched sickness born of defiled blood; before that, when he was still mortal, a time that feels so far that it might be a dream, he had been deathly ill, brought to that terrible city by way of necessity.]
What has overtaken her?
no subject
"The mistress and her children... Ah, it is not my place to say and as long as you stay behind closed doors..."
[Monts looks at him carefully before gently urging him.]
You don't have to say too much. Just enough so we're aware. No judgment on our part.
[He's silent as he leads them further down the hallway.]
"The lady and her children are afflicted with... Well, we always called them 'spells.' You see, by and large, they are a perfectly dignified noble family. But these spells... Their flesh... They bloom..."
[He shudders, not wanting to think any more of it. Monts feels the back of her neck tingle, her skin crawling with anticipation.]
"Her children, they will bloom and leave the house. The villagers all keep their doors locked until sundown so I am letting you both stay against my better judgment, but the mistress, she... She will stay. She will wander. We need to hurry."
[And with that, he gestures over to the companions, opening a door with an old key. There is an unused but clean guest room that has its own bathroom, stylish furniture, and a single large bed.]
no subject
Vincent thinks of lumenflowers blooming, reaching for the cosmos. He thinks of the minds of those afflicted with knowledge, whose skulls would soften and unfurl like flower petals, or swell like a cloud of fungus. To bloom, for Vincent, is not a word of mystery — he had learned it meant transformation, an awakening, and now it is inherently known in his bones. In his self that had been reborn, held gently in the hands of the Doll, to bloom and blossom one day further.]
And I suspect we are requested to sequester in our room, then, for the sake of remaining well away from the lady of the house?
[He waits for Monts to enter first before following, perhaps more unfazed by this new information than he should be. But he has certainly encountered worse, and to feel threatened by this unknown individual, afflicted by an unknown spell, would be like a wolf feeling threatened by another wolf stalking the halls.]
no subject
"Just for tonight good sir. This spell should not last long, but they are known to wander for days on end. If it comes to that, by the second day I will leave you a message and you must find your way back on your own instead."
[Monts glances at Vincent looking tense. He wasn't entirely wrong about his guess then; they were in a sense in the maw of some beast, albeit one that walks around as some creature this man didn't have the courage to describe.
What was sadder, Monts thinks, is that he didn't have the heart to speak with spite, just tiredness and resignation.]
... Alright. Can you let us know by a note if her spell passes over by tomorrow as well?
[The servant nods and ushers Vincent inside.]
"I will lock myself up as well. I'm sorry there is not much time left, but if I find an opportunity, I will give you supplies to make your stay more welcome. You did say just one night after all."
Mm. We don't usually stay in one place for long to begin with.
no subject
[Rare that they stay someplace overlong except when necessary. Though Vincent must admit that he feels that old Hunter’s itch, the want to wander the witching hour in search of what violent mysterious lay in the night — though now, it is no longer for the sake of survival, only the strange desire to experience, explore, to know, that drives him.
All the same, though, to the servant—]
We may be your guests, but if you have need, do not hesitate to call upon us. I am well-equipped to handle many a baleful night, and it has been long since I’ve last taken up arms.
no subject
"... I see. If need be then..."
[There's a noise on the other end of the hallway and his head jerks back in fear. Without another word, he closes their door, and both of them are left with the sound of a key locking the door. Hurried footsteps slowly fade away until all is quiet.
Monts moves over to the doorknob, twisting it (lightly mind you) to confirm...]
Well. Locked up for the night. Not that getting out would be an issue for either of us, but a key would have been nice.
[Speaking of comfortable, Monts is removing her cloak and draping it across a chair. The dress she wears consists of long sleeves, but her shoulders and collar are bare, making it easy to see the black flower-shaped halo resting on the back of her neck. It shimmers and writhes, but remains in its spot.
Monts takes a seat on the edge of the bed even giving it a bounce or two to test how comfortable it is.]
Actually... Now that I think about it... Vincent, do you even sleep these days? I can imagine that isn't a necessity, but if you're in a humanoid shape...
no subject
He turns to her when he’s done, raising a brow.]
When I was reborn, I did little more than sleep. For what felt like an age... an eternity.
[Held by the Doll, lost in the depths of the Hunter’s workshop until he had strength and agency to be something else — take a human shape, one that he still could remember.]
Now, however, I may go just as long without it. [He motions at the bed.] It is all yours, if that is your desire.
no subject
Sit. We've been wandering for god knows how long? I seem to lose track of time when I travel with you on the outside.
[Her hands rest in her lap once again. If it were anyone else, it would be a demure pose, but Monts is anything but that.]
There are a few things I've neglected to ask about, but I'd love to hear from you. About when you were human I mean. I know we will probably have an unsavory host to contend with within the next hour or so, but I plan to enjoy my time with you in close proximity to the fullest.
[She's always been unusually forthcoming, but it's quite prominent now.]
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And do you not enjoy your time with me in our other meetings?
[A quirk of a grin, but in the next breath of a moment, he moves to sit beside her. A respectable distance, nonetheless, but some parts of propriety died when his humanity shifted into something other.]
But very well. What would you like to know? I can tell you the parts I recall.
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[They're both creatures in human form, traversing colder worlds. Is it too selfish of her to think that it's pleasant that they have each other's company while there is horror outside their room?
She holds up three fingers.]
I'll start with three questions then.
Like first... Did you ever have a human family? Second, was there any sort of significant other or someone... Or something, I suppose... That held your interest?
And three...
[There's a pause before she continues her line of questioning as casually as ever.]
Who was the most difficult person or thing that you ever had to kill?
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Very well. One at a time.
[The ease of his expression falters, just a flicker of a passing shadow. It’s… hard to delve back into memory from so long ago. Even if he were properly human again, the fog of that time is so thick, so muddled, more impressions of images than true recollection. It’s like peering centuries into the past, into a life that no longer belonged to him. The distant experiences of a stranger.]
I grew up in a small hamlet near the sea. I had a human family there — my only family, I suppose. A mother and a… a sister…
[He shakes his head, pressing at the bridge of his nose as though it takes so much effort to recall, it is almost painful. She did not ask of that hamlet’s fate, nor his family’s, so he does not linger on the subject. Instead, he scoffs as he drops his hand.]
I'm sorry, I cannot remember them well. For the second — you’re asking if I’ve ever indulged myself in a whirlwind romance? I cannot say that I have. After my old home, there was only Yharnam. And that is hardly the proper place to court… anyone.
[A pause, he thinks of saying something else, then decides to move on to question three. This is fine.]
And for the third, I should have to say it was the child of a Great One. Its mother had died, her carcass washed up on the shore of a fishing village; it had crawled out of its womb, alive and mourning its own existence. And when I faced it, it was so… so angry. So impossible to fathom.
[He can still hear its screams, and though they do not chill him like they did when he was mortal, the memory lingers like an old scar even in this new portion of his existence.]
To kill it was a mercy.
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... It's okay if you're not able to remember everything from before.
[ And though normally Monts had always kept a polite distance from Vincent, even with her jest and flirtations, this time she reaches for one of his hands to envelop it in her own. ]
I'm glad you're able to tell me anything at all.
[ There's no joking tone, not this time. ]
... Sorry if I made you recall anything painful. I... Don't really wish to hurt you in any way.
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Miss Monts, do not feel bad for asking me the most basic questions of an individual. [The family part, at least.] Even before I changed, I could not recall. The blood ministration I received as a newcomer to Yharnam had long blurred my memories.
[He turns his hand over, gives her a small squeeze. The contact is welcoming and safe, even for creatures such as themselves.]
It is better to have left that part of myself behind, anyway, I think.
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It was interesting to hear about it from you. I couldn't help, but be curious after knowing you this long.
[ His words about the changes and blurred memories also brings up another thing to mind. Never mind the shuffling noises and smoky moans and groans of whatever is outside their room and never mind the darkness. And though they are very different creatures, they are also alike and she had kept seeking him out in her own way. ]
I think I get it... About leaving a part of one's self behind I mean.
[ Monts looks away from the Hunter but closes the distance by leaning her head against his shoulder, fingers still wrapped around his. ]
When I woke up years and years ago... All I knew was that I was a sum of something known and unknown. And I tried to just live like that, not really knowing and understanding what I was.
[ Her voice is soft and hushed. She hasn't talked about this with anyone else. ]
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And what has happened since? Have you found yourself, or some understanding of who you are?
[He huffs gently.]
You are always so confident, it is truly hard to believe you’d have any doubts swirling about in your head.
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I think... No. I think what I am, it wasn't meant to happen.
[ She's certain of it, clearly recalling the horror that dawned upon her as she finally felt the limits of her body and understanding that it wasn't right. But she learned to live with it, tolerate it.
And it couldn't have been all bad. Not when... ]
... Vincent?
[ As the eerie moaning grows louder, she grasps his hand even more tightly. ]
I haven't told you my real name, haven't I?
[ How silly. They've met with each other so often and she had yet to grant him her sign of trust, the symbol of her wanting more. ]
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I don’t think you ever did, Miss Monts.
[Curious, ever curious. Strange that there would still be things to uncover about each other, already knowing what each other is.]
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[She may be insensitive to pain but at least she makes up for it by being very aware of others and how they react to her. Despite the eerie scraping against the floor and the ever-imminent groans of the horrors outside, it doesn't seem to distract her from Vincent's steadily rising heartbeat.
The foolish girl within delights in having others react to her. It's evidence of her existence, that there is certainty in the here and now that she's set in.
Looking up at him, her blue-green eyes shine in the dim light.]
I'm Marianna.
[One hand reaches up to cup the Hunter's face and idly twirls his hair around one finger.]
You can call me that from now on. If you want.
[Ah, if only it was more silent around them. If only their door wasn't starting to rattle outside, monsters demanding to be let in and ruin their evening reverie... If only.]
Well, as much as I'd love to be for your eyes only, I don't think you'll be having much rest for the remainder of the night.
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Very well. [The door outside rattles, but Vincent ignores it just for now. Just for a moment.] Then I will call you by your true name, from now on out, since you have been kind enough to gift it to me.
[But the noises increase. And the moment is nigh ruined by how hard the door jostles this time, and Vincent's rather serene expression, eyes taking in her expression, changes to that of an exasperated frown. He sits up straight, glancing towards the door with an exhale.]
Oh, so you'll not join me tonight?
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Marianna chuckles and shakes her head in response.]
Not tonight. I don't think I'm in the mood to reveal myself to just anyone. I'll probably dream until you return in one piece.
[She doesn't feel the need to become the pale moonflower of a creature stained by a dark starry cosmos. Though her words are dreamy and enigmatic, she decides to be human for him instead because that's where her pleasure has been derived from that moment.]
But! Before you leave to lay the beasts to rest... [Marianna stands up from the bed and offers her hands to Vincent, motioning to do the same.]
Let me give you something else.