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one survivor left. dungeon open. ann had to be quick.
behind the shack, the disciple scoured the area with blackened eyes, looking for any sign of life. the snow crunched beneath her, only adding to the stillness of leo’s memory. even the snowfall seemed to let up, the scene silent apart from her tinnitus and the purring of her cats.
from the sanctuary of her porcelain mask, she frowned in disgust.
she did not like the snow. she did not like the night. she decreed it an unholiness upon the earth, for the sole crime that all she could recall of her death was pitch black and the biting cold against her bloodied hands. it was the worst injustice to murder a god, the judge of all of one’s sins, no matter her own.
for the baron to give her such a map was a sin. for the survivors to attempt to evade her was a sin. and now, this final survivor was denying her the ultimate victory, keeping her locked in the walls of such an unholy place, committing the worst sin of all.
from the silence, a crow’s call.
she raised her head and, shifting the cat on her shoulder, began walking.
if the crows hadn’t given her away, the survivor’s sobbing would have. they grew louder as she approached, finally catching sight of a red veil and pale yellow hair. the woman in front of her cried, half-silent sniffles from trying to remain hidden, only to break into louder tears as she was discovered. she crouched behind a stack of barrels, clutching a toy box like it was her last lifeline.
ann looked down at the disgraceful display. the pale woman couldn’t even look her judge in the eye, mumbling fervently to herself.
”they said- to find dungeon...”
but the dungeon wasn’t here, and ann felt only the smallest remorse driving her cross through the newest survivor’s back.
a thud, a pained scream, a desperate grasp at the powdered snow. even as her blood stained the scenery red, she kept the toy box close to her chest.
she heaved for cold air, breath fogging as she did so, and ann found she had summoned the strength to look up, staring her hunter in the eyes.
pleading. begging, searching for some humanity in her.
”please..! you won, everyone else is dead, please spare-“
the words cut off in another scream as the wooden cross burrowed itself in her shoulder, then she went limp on the floor.
that was her own mistake, ann reasoned to herself, the scent of blood heavy in the air as she pulled out the cross. she could have still run, taken advantage of the distraction and ran for the walls, but she stayed and begged like a dog. to seek anything but cold retribution in a god after wronging them; her naivety was almost astounding. it was like seeking mercy in a snowstorm, or an epidemic, or any of the natural disasters that plagued this earth.
poor, poor sinner...
the survivor laid limp now, breathing swallow as the pool of blood steadily slowed. ann bent down, and tilted the survivor’s head up to meet her gaze, cat eyes meeting dazed blue.
”the dungeon you sought was by the christmas tree.”
she didn’t even get the chance to chair. she set the corpse down, feeling the little warmth that remained seeped out into the cold of the night, and turned the body over to see her hands. those delicate things had finally let go of her toy box, leaving it abandoned in the snow, and instead, she held a weak grasp on her communicator.
if she wasn’t so eager to leave, she might’ve felt a faint appreciation for the pitiful survivor, choosing not to drag the match out longer than needed.
the four man victory was hers. the cat on her mewed and climbed the length of her shoulders to settle on her other side. lifting her head, she turned away from the corpse, towards the exit.
they would meet again, in another match, and she will commit the same blasphemy of trying to run. and ann would hold her cross steady in her hands and hunt, until the baron had enough of his fun, and she would no longer need to feel snow against her bare skin.