Chapter Text
This man - no, this monster once called a man - was once deemed one of the greatest musicians in history. He could play his instrument, the humble violin like no one else, so much so that others would claim that he had sold his soul for his talent. Yet, they still came to watch him play.
They would fill the theater with their bodies and watch with their widened eyes as he made his violin sing sweet sonatas for them. Then they would all sit in a moment of silence as he finished before they rose to their feet and an uproar of deafening applause echoed through the streets.
And he would just stand there, basking in his audience’s attention and praise, until he became tired of it and left the stage. Oh, but really, he was never tired of it. In fact, he thirsted for it. And now, ever since he became what he was today, that pool has dried up and he yearned for just a single sip of that delicious ambrosia once more.
But he was trapped - trapped in this manor in the middle of God-knows-where in a place where no one has ever heard of him, and if they have heard of him they certainly would never recognize him.
His hair was overgrown to the point where it trailed behind him as he walked, his skin was a deathly blue hue, and all of the clothes that he wore were practically rags. The only thing new on his person was a bright purple flower upon his lapel.
All he could do was wait and play the game when they needed the final player. And sit and wait he did.
He sat on the least decrepit cushioned seat that he could find and leaned back into it as he held up his violin up to his chin. Then his greasy black locks of hair slithered towards the instrument and took it and its bow into its grasp. The man let his hands fall to the seat’s armrests as his hair began to freestyle a complex song that rang throughout the stale manor air, and he sighed. Oh, how he missed the applause that he once received in his freedom. Playing to oneself isn’t nearly as fulfilling. After about half an hour, he heard the gong of a bell.
The signal that a game was about to begin.
An inhuman grin spread across his face from ear to ear, showing off almost every single one of his teeth, as he heard glass shattering within his mind. The game had started, and he was the one to hunt. It may not be as nice as playing to an adoring crowd, but it was second to it.
He stepped outside into the backyard of the manor, the area changing form into another location, as it did to keep the survivors guessing. The location set seemed to have been the hospital. He awaited for another ring in the bell. When it came, he immediately approached the actual hospital in the center of the area.
—
The violinist felt a pair of eyes settle on him. Actually, he had felt a pair of eyes on him the entire round, but he simply shrugged it off. It was just a survivor, he would get them later. However, as he put the third survivor on the chair to send them back to the manor, he still felt the pair of eyes on him. Getting fed up with the feeling, he spun around and marched towards them.
As he approached the statue beside the hospital, another survivor shot out from behind it and sprinted off in the opposite direction. In the name of the game, the violinist followed suit. He knew that he’d eventually catch up with them. He always would, and then he would take them down and put them on the chair like all the other survivors. However, something was strange about the final survivor. Every so often, they would turn around and look at him with interest before darting away and doing the exact same thing again and again. So, it really didn’t take long for the two to finally be close.
As the violinist winded his bow back to hit the survivor, he stopped. The survivor just stood there. He knew they feared him. He could hear their heart beating in their chest, yet they weren’t running away. He narrowed his eyes, though they couldn’t be seen behind all of the hair, and his manic grin stayed, though the ends of it twitched.
“Why aren’t you running? Run!” He ordered, but they still didn’t move. The violinist tilted his head to the side, perplexed.
“Why won’t you run?” He asked, his voice calmer the second time, and the survivor did something unthinkable; they smiled at him. It was a kind smile and it stunned the man.
“I know who you are. You have a violin with one string. There’s only one musician that I know that can play like that.” The lanky man blinked twice, and his hard grin softened a little. He chuckled.
“You… know me. Do you, perchance, like my work?” The lights in the survivor’s eyes lit up and clapped both hands together.
“Oh, absolutely! When I listen to your music I just-! It’s just absolutely amazing, and the fact that you can play with a single string and do that often! I can’t even begin to say how much you inspire me! When you disappeared, I was heartbroken! But I’m finally able to meet you!” Their smile brightened as they cheered. The violinist chuckled appreciatively.
“Thank you, thank you.” The hunter pressed an empty hand to his chest. “It is… a big surprise that somebody playing this game would recognize me in this… state.” The hunter thought for a moment before his grin grew to its full, impossible size. “Would you like to listen to a song, or two?”
“But… the other survivors-”
“-Are gone. You are the only one left, so I do not think they would mind if you stayed for a little longer.” The man reasoned. Though unsure, the survivor eventually came to a decision.
“Hearing a song from you would be amazing. I would love to hear one. Besides, I don’t think that I would enjoy the alternative answer to that question.” The both of them smiled. The violinist picked up the survivor in his hair and brought them to the nearest seating place, which happened to be a half-broken bench, placing them on it. Once they were situated, he took a few steps back and readied himself before playing his violin.
His body automatically swayed and danced to the notes, his hands orchestrating his hair’s playing. His mind returned to his own little world where he was back on a grandiose stage with thousands of people watching him, just like the good old days. Once the musician was finished, he glanced at his single audience member expectantly, and after a few seconds, he was finally met with praise.
“Oh, that was beautiful!” cooed the survivor. “And I’ve never heard that song before - did you come up with it on the spot?” When the violinist nodded, the survivor practically leapt from their seat. Before they could say anything, however, the violinist interrupted them.
“Most of my songs are made on the spot. It is rare for me to actually write down my songs.” His bragging was met with even more praise, inflating his ego to an enormous size.
Oh, how much he missed this, even if it was just a little taste.
After a minute or two of this, the musician calmed the survivor down, just so he wouldn’t die from his over inflated head.
“Though I do enjoy your company, I still must take you back to the manor.” There was a silence between them both of the two. Then the musician spoke up again. “Though how you get there is not specified. Would you perhaps be adverse to me walking you there?”
“I… would be delighted.”
It was certainly not a long walk from the arena to the survivors’ side of the manor, but for the master musician every second counted.
Both the survivor and the hunter had a lovely time walking together. The two of them both asked why the other was here and they both answered as honestly as they both could manage.
It was only after about ten minutes when they finally made it to the survivors’ side of the manor. They both turned to each other.
“Mr… ah, I’m sorry, but is it possible to refer to you by your actual name or-?”
“You may call me Antonio. My first name, but I haven’t heard it in years. It would be welcomed to hear it again.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you Mr. Antonio for being so friendly to me. I joined this game to get my wish, but with all of the being hunted and things like that… This was really nice. So, thank you.” The musician gave another smile to the survivor, a softer one - a normal one - and bowed before them. The survivor simply smiled back.
“You’re welcome. I wish that we could meet under different circumstances.” When he straightened back to his slouched height, the musician noticed a strange expression on the person’s face.
“Is there something wrong?” He asked. The survivor looked him in the eye and smiled weakly.
“Ah, yes. It’s just that I want to give you something as thank you, but I’m not sure if you would appreciate it.”
“A gift? How could you have a gift if you have only just met me?”
“It’s a really simple gift. Something that I can give to anyone.”
The musician tilted his head to the side, confused. But then he reasoned that it might have been something special that they could do. After all, many of the other survivors had a talent that only they had. He would actually like to see what they could do, if they could do anything, that is.
“Alright.” He agreed. “What would this gift be?”
“Ah, it’s really small, but I have it in my pocket!”And with that, the survivor reached into their pocket and pulled out a hand enclosed in a fist, showing it to him. Still confused, the violinist leaned down to try to get a closer look at what was inside, but instead he was met with a kiss.
It was a simple peck on the cheek and it was short, yet sweet. Not only that but he felt warmth for the first time in forever spread from the kiss to the base of his neck. He was stunned.
“I-I have another gift for you, but maybe it would be better for you to claim it later? Yes, later would be nice. It was really nice to finally meet you, Mr. Antonio. Goodbye!” He couldn’t even manage a weak goodbye as the survivor dashed back into the manor. The man only snapped out of it when he heard a sugary tune play from his instrument. His eye twitched and his inhuman grin reappeared.
“Oh, shut it.”