PoV: Thatch Bream - Hush
There’s a door I knock on.
It’s made from red wood, carried in by an airship. I breathe as I wait for it to open.
There’s a sickness inside me.
My blood. It boils inside my veins. I can see them, thick and sick against my skin. They’re cursed, darkened. And they hurt. Everything hurts these days. Because I’m sick.
The door opens. Bloodstain stands beyond it, smiling wide. Her coppery skin stretches as she grins, and waves me inside. She has her metallic hair in a long braid, leisurely draped over her shoulder. “Ah, Hush,” she says happily, licking her lips. “How pleasant to see you. Come on in.”
I smile. It’s a polite expression that comes as easy as breathing.
[Inner Peace 7 > 8]
My blood boils my skin from the inside. So close to her, it’s far worse. Her curse spreads in my veins, and I feel like a puppet on a string. It’s a horrid, invasive sensation. Still, I smile and step inside.
Bloodline keeps their headquarters tidy. Stain makes sure of that. They have red carpet covering the floor, and the ceiling is actually watertight. It’s even warm inside, and Bloodstain gently brushes my shoulder as she takes off my cloak, her movements graceful and polite.
Then, in a swift motion, she hangs it up, and snatches my hand, pulling me deeper in with a giggle. Everything is a game to her, but it’s a cruel one. I feel a ring of pain grow where she holds my wrist and let myself be pulled along.
All of that is fine. After all, I am a patient, calm person. I still smile at her, and open my mouth to talk, but she presses a finger to my lips. Smiling smugly, she traces my chin, then grabs it and turns my face. “You’re very handsome, Hush,” she says.
“I get that a lot,” I reply. From her it’s more gross than when my friends say it, though. But I can take this, too.
Her nail presses into my eyebrow, drawing a single droplet of dark blood. It’s almost black as it trails down my cheek. “I want to scar you,” she says, tasting every word. “I want to brand you, because I think you’re delicious. Your restraint, your control, I am so envious of it.”
A small laugh bubbles up at that. “Restraint?” I ask with a smile. “I don’t think I’m that restrained.”
She pouts at that, lips curling. “How adorable. You don’t see yourself as that, then? A monster on chains?”
Some time ago, perhaps, those words would have hit me. I don’t like being angry. I still plan on fusing the skill into something else. But that doesn’t reduce that it’s part of me. A part of me as anything else. “No,” I reply with a smile, and a shake of my head. My neck aches as I move, my blood resisting the motion, beckoning me to be a statue. “No, I think I’m rather a calm and soft spoken person.”
Bloodstain’s lips curl into a grin. For her, the facade drops away. Her lies of affection. The smile on her face turns feral, and she leans in close. “I am a bit of a monster, though, Hush,” she drawls.
“I want two tokens and to be released from your curse,” I say with a soft smile, cupping her cheek. “One for Jean, one for me.”
She smiles. So softly, so gently, so politely. “No,” she says.
And at that, I know where we stand. There is one language for this purpose, purely for this purpose. I take a long breath in and out. Already, the smile on her face grows feral, and she even leans into my touch as my thumb traces her cheekbone.
Inside me, that flip switches.
[Rage].
My hand turns to a claw. My blood boils, not with pain, but with fury. Anger courses through me like air. It fuels my motion, and a vengeful ghost manifests over all my digits. In one swift motion, I slam Bloodstain into the ground.
Stones crack. Her skin splits, her bones grind, blood flows and stains the ground. And she laughs. “There it is!” she cheers, her lips tasting dust, her face stained red. Her eyes, though, stare at me with the same heat as ever. “That’s you, Hush!”
Remembrance flares. The monster threatens to consume me, but I am who I am. Despite everything, I smile. My other hand comes down, a crushing fist smashing into Bloodstain. My own blood rebels against me. It explodes out of my skin, my veins unmaking themselves.
Her curse has infected me for days. The sickness is all throughout me. I feel it burn me from the inside out, and I punch her again.
Skin breaks away from her face, rent by claws. My anger pools higher. It roars inside my chest, and I smile. “You made Snow worry for me,” I say, calmly, measured, as I smash my fists into her again. “How fucking dare you.”
Bloodstain laughs, and pushes. My blood rebels. My body contorts itself like a puppet on broken strings, my bones twist on themselves. But I am more than a puppet. I am worn by myself, a fuel to my own rage, and the blood she has spent so much effort infecting burns.
[Epitaph: Bloodburn
Rage to blood, blood to rage.
Anger fuels your heart, sits in your ribcage.]
Blood to [Rage].
My body comes undone. My muscles unravel, my blood burns inside and outside. Flamando’s gracious gift to me sends shivers through my skin as my heart itself begins to catch fire. I burn, and the figure behind me becomes towering.
[Rage 24 > 27]
I break the threshold in an instant, and push beyond it. My fist comes down, and for the first time, Bloodstain’s smile fades a little. She twists out of the way, making me explode the ground rather than her skull - but she cannot escape the shrapnel. Stones pelt her skin, even as her own blood pours back into her veins from the ground.
Violently, I throw myself at her. My ghostly maw finds her shoulder, and teeth dig into her. My blood evaporates, and I go from being a puppet to being a monster. Again, I strike, shattering her face. Bloody knives stab through me, pierce my arms, my legs, but I [Channel] that pain. It’s fuel for the fire.
For the Pyre.
“You made their burden heavier,” I say, teeth grinding against each other, tasting iron in my mouth. My anger boils higher. “You made me dead weight. I will never forgive that.”
Authority slams into me. A violent, bloody authority that speaks of… I smell it. Of slaughter.
It’s insidious. It worms its way into my head. It twists my thoughts, tries to drive me mad. Bloodstain grins at me, her skull in the open air, her blood coursing around her, turning to spears and knives that shatter against my rage. I howl in fury, and slam her through a wall.
The carpet tears to shreds under my steps. The rocks shatter as I drive her through them. Her own ability makes me even angrier, and the bestial form around me grows solid. Teeth and claws, monstrous manifestations of what I am, who I am. A berserker. A brutal, violent killer. She laughs.
“Dance with me, monstrous one! Show me your true shape!” she laughs. Her arm is shattered, hanging limply, and I snarl, leaping at her.
Spears of blood pierce through me, but then they catch flame, too. Blood turns to rage, and I let it burn. I let it fuel me, anger in my veins. I land against her, and her eyes widen in brief surprise as my claws land on her arm. And I pull.
A moment passes. Two. Her blood turns solid in her body. It forms chain links that keep her arm attached. She snarls from the effort, and I roar at her. My phantom jaws close around her head, and teeth grind against bone. A scream tears from both of us - and then her arm tears from her body.
Bloodstain’s laugh dies into a hollow choke, adrenaline coursing from her as blood flows freely from the stump. So, so much blood pours out of her, a compressed jet of the stuff, as if she’s stored more inside than her body can hold. It shoots at me, and I shield my chest and face. The holes in my arms and legs don’t matter, because I pounce again.
She pulls back. I see it now, afraid. Another brutal strike lands on her, lacerating her face, pulling bronzen skin from bone. She bleeds, she feels the agony, and I want to slaughter her. The urge to lose myself strengthens. I jump, ferally, and land on her.
Underneath me, the deranged woman smiles. Her blood pours out from her, then digs into me, but I see the spray slow. She’s running dry. Gingerly, I drive my claws through her again, ruining her other shoulder, making more holes in her ruined body. She grimaces, this time, as if the pain finally gets through to her.
And her eyes remain manic, fixed on me. “Give in,” she whispers. “Become what you were always meant to be.”
A small smile spreads on my human lips. With a small sigh, I invert the epitaph. Rage turns to blood. I [Channel] the anger into its proper resting place. The flames within my chest dim, and the pain begins to properly wear on me.
[Channel 20 > 21]
But that’s okay. I know who I am. I remember. That’s my authority. It’s my truth. And, deep down, I trust myself to be calm and reasonable.
So the monster vanishes. The rage goes from flames, to embers, to coals. It lays low in my chest, and I feel the claws of slaughter fall away. Bloodstain’s eyes widen. Almost desperately, she reaches out with her remaining arm, and I feel a thin infection try to take hold. I burn that blood.
Then, I sigh and stomp on her shoulder, breaking bone. She gasps in pain, no air left to scream with. Squatting down next to her, I smile, politely, calmly, my body riddled with holes, my face covered in her blood. It’s a gentle, kind expression. “I’d like my tokens now,” I say simply.
Bloodstain stares at me. She tries to reach out, but her arm fails her. Instead, she laughs and coughs blood. “Beautiful,” she whispers, for a moment, then passes out.
Silence falls over the clearing. A dreadful hush. An oppressive nothing. It weighs on me, but I carry it well.
“Is she dead?” Inu asks, from behind a nearby building.
I turn to stare at her. Despite everything, I knew she was there. She just can’t stop herself from meddling. And yet… I don’t feel angry at her. I even smile. It was nice to feel safe. That even if I’d lost myself, someone would have been there to catch me. I don’t want to be a burden, but the safety net… I’d kill for it.
“She’s alive,” I say softly, dragging a hand through my hair, staining it red with blood.
“The tokens?” Inu asks.
“Inside, on a table,” I say, pointing at the ruined building. The roof has caved in on half of it, and the stone is cracked. I wince at the sight, but Inu just smiles.
She nods, then ruffles my hair for a moment. Uncaring that it stains her hand. “I’ll get them. You get started on running, before the guards show up. Put her in a safe house,” she says. Her [Empathy] feels warm and kind within my chest, and with a small sigh, I nod.
“Alright, Inu. Thanks. See you at home?” I ask.
A bright smile envelops her face, and she nods. “See you at home.”
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