Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eileen panted heavily. Every bone in her body felt as though it was a damn with-holding the waters of her impending age. Her garb was a spattered canvas of red reflecting the light of the lantern statue of the Tomb of Odeon. Who’s blood was it.

Hers?

Her preys?

She could not tell anymore. All that mattered was the rest. The rest she owed this poor soul. This poor hunter. She would grant him mercy.

The hunter of hunters stood over the horrid, deformed creature. Its black church hunter’s garb was stretched and warped to fit its new enlarged frame. His silver dingy holy shawl was still draped around his thickened neck was now in tatters.

Granted…the man was uncommonly large to begin with.

The beast that was once Father Gascoigne breathed heavy pants, its hot breath from the battle clouding into the night. Its blood-thirsty rampage had come to an end at the hand of the crow.

Such was the fate of those who fell to the scourge. Such was the fate of those who carried the crow hunter’s badge.

It was her duty.

The creature huffed, blood misting from its human crooked nose.

To free them from the scourge.

It no longer could manage the strength to stand from the many fine paper cut slices from the crows blades.

Grant them the respect they would never have in death.

Blood all around it. It was hunger and thirst.

Eileen inhaled a deep breath.

She raised her double blade, now whole for an ending strike. In that frozen moment, the thought of the creature’s family blinked in her mind. How would she tell the wife? The children?

The same way she had in the past of course….

The rising sun struck her blade not made of any mineral from this world. It made her wince for a moment as the pink ray squinted one of her eyes.

Perhaps it was the illusion casted by the sun, but she thought she saw the creatures form shrinking. Reverting. Its black garb folding and crumpling as the body beneath it began to return to a human shape.

Eileen nearly dropped her blade in shock. She swallowed as he mind raced. This was impossible…

Or was is not so unbelievable? Could a body revert once it had died from the scourge? Once the disease had nothing left to ravange?

Eileen moved closer to the lumped form of leather garb. She kneeled by its form. It was the form of Father Gascoigne. It was the form of how she remembered him. He was still knicked and slashed from the damage dealt by her blades. Eileen cocked her head. The marks would have been more scars to add to the man’s large collection already.

She reached down to pull the garb fully over the man when a hand shot up and grabbed her wrist.

Eileen jumped back in surprise her blade drawn instantly at the ready to retaliate.

The hand was still raised, shaking. Its fingers reaching out for anything to grab onto. It was an action of need.

Eileen approached again and took the hand of Father Gascoigne in her own. The bandages that once wrapped his hands were slacking off, loose and torn.

“Eileen…”

The crow hunter blinked under her mask, it took her a moment to manage a response.

“Aye..aye…its me.”

“What happened…? Iy can’t…”

“Don’t speak now. You’re gravely injured.” Eileen tugged and moved his garb around Gascoigne to cover him.

“Was it the hunt…?”

Eileen paused in her motions.

“Yes. Now, don’t speak.”

She took his arm up and began feeling for the vein. It might not have been the best idea to administer the healing blood to the man, but she had to do something. This was nothing like any hunt she had ended before. This was a new chapter that she would open in the bound journal she confided in so much.

She took one of her blood vials from her satchel, tapping the needle’s tip for air. The crow swiftly inserted its tip to the large hunters vien. Her hunt did not matter at the moment. Keeping her friend alive was her priority. She had questions and decisions to make based on how the situation progressed.

“I’ve given you blood. Just as I will take some m’self. Lie still…don’t try to speak.”
Eileen patted his hand in her own.

“I’m goin’ to take you back with me.”

“But Viola-”

“I will tell her you are with me. I…need t’make sure of afew things. I need t’make sure you’re well, Gascoigne.”

“Why…?” He croaked out, a confused look shadowed his face. His bandages now barley covering his eyes.

“Theres somethin’ y’need to know. I’ll tell ya when you’re well enough to stand.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This is like nothing I have encountered before in my years as a hunter of hunters.

Eileen wrote in her bound journal. This night was something she had to expel into some sort of format, some sort of record. Not far from where she sat, Gascoigne had fallen unconscious from his wounds. She would rise and check on his condition ever so often. Sure enough, the good blood was doing its work. Wounds that would normally take days to heal over were improving by the hour.

Has my judgement been clouded by this? I have never seen a hunter return from beyond the point of the beast in the scourge. What is this new strand? Is it something that can be managed? Or is it just belaying the inevitable…

Eileen paused from her writing to listen to Gascoigne’s breaths. This inhales had become less shallow and more steady. It was a good sign.

Do I see where this new condition leads? Or should I cut it off at its source?

There was a stirring from the large hunter near her. He groaned as he was coming to. Eileen took her time in closing her journal. She retired it to her side satchel before turning her attention to the now present Gascoigne.

“Easy on your sittin’ up…” She moved closer to him, a hand on his back to guide his stiff motion.

“Eileen…” Gascoigne put his head in one of his hands. “ Tell me what occurred this night…”

Eileen paused with an inhale. She had sat trying to practice how she would tell the man he was previously a blood-drunk monster. She took her premise of opening with a question.

“What do you remember?”

Gascoigne moved his hand away from his head, the bandages over his eyes nearly left at the motion. He breathed, his brow furrowing with effort.

“Iy…you were there.” He turned to look at the crow hunter. “You’re hurt…? Did I..?”

“Quite a dealing of pain was given to me by you, yes.”

Gascoigne sighed out of anger at himself. His fists clenched as his body tensed.

“Did I lose myself again? For how long? How long did it take for you to bring me to my senses? How much of th’ blood on you is yours?”

“You…didn’t just lose your mind this time, Gascoigne.” Eileen told him steadily. “You lost your humanity as well.”

Gascoigne was quiet. His jaw tightened and the whites of his knuckles were beginning to show.

“Can’t be.” He retorted finally.

“Yes it can.”

“How? You a hunter of hunters would’ve put a stop to all that.”

“Oh? And I suppose the marks of my blade on ya this night are just for show?”

“You had to stop me somehow. I wasn’t right.”

“I had to nearly kill ya is what I did!”

“”Enough!!”

The volume of their conversation had steadily increased until the two were unaware that they were nearly yelling. A silence crept over the Tomb of Odeon. The morning crows cawed and the early fog was beginning to clear. Still the after-math of a carnage remained.

“Listen to me, Gascoigne. I want y’to stay under my gaze for a good while. Just to make sure you are safe. Think of your family ya fool. If you could do such harm t’me imagine if it was them-”

“I don’t want to.” Gascoigne cut her off. He inhaled and held his breath before he said. “If t’all goes wrong…you will end it?”

Eileen folded her arms, her expression hidden behind her ivory beaked mask.

“If it comes to that, yes.”

Gascoigne nodded, a motion to assure himself as well as Eileen.

“Very well. What will y’tell Viola?”

“You are on a hunting trip with Henryk. It will be awhile before you return.”

“Good.”

Eileen removed her hand from his back. She shifted around more to his front where she could aid him properly.

“Are y’ready to stand?”

“Aye…help me up.”

Eileen took the priests offered hand. With a painful effort, Gascoigne stood gingerly. He held his tattered garb around him more like a covering tarp now then an item of clothing. Eileen took his shoulder around her own to support the weight he could not carry on his own. She recalled the last entry in her journal before its close.

My duty is mine to return them to peace. To the hunter’s dream.  How much peace can be found in such a condition? Friendship must not deter me.  I must be strong and gracious in this time to determine the necessary course of action.

Chapter Text

“Eileen just let this foolishment be done.”

Gascoigne growled as he folded his arms in irritation. It had been near a month since he was unable to return home. The crow wished to keep a close eye on him after his…incident in the Tomb of Odeon.

Only Gascoigne was beginning to fail to see the reason why she kept him here. Nothing remotely close to such an event had happened and he had to stay cooped up in the hidden basement of Eileen’s hideout. Eileen was starting to waver on her judgement as well. She had to be sure what happened that night would never occur again. She devised a test.

“It’ll be done soon. Here…” There was the sound of heavy cast chains on a stone floor. Eileen turned around to show Gascoigne his new iron cast restraints. “Put these on.”

Gascoigne frown harshly, and dropped his arms to his sides.

“Eileen, I doubt this is necessary.”

“No. It is very much necessary. You didn’t see what I saw, Gascoigne.” She held the iron cuff out with a clank of its chain. “I have one here for each wrist.”

Gascoigne folded to the crows orders. If it meant he could return home he’d endure the crow’s tests. He remembered the way Eileen looked that night…broken, bloodied. Did he truly cause such a thing? If this would grant him answers, he would see it through.
The Father approached Eileen holding out his hands for her. The chains slipped over his wrists easily, making him frown in confusion.

“Won’t my hands slip out?”

“Shouldn’t.” Eileen curtly responded as walked over to the chain’s base which was attached through fired metal to the floor. She tugged it hard, causing the links to go taunt.

Gascoigne looked at his hands in the cuffs. Something turned over in his stomach, making his insides feel cold. He didn’t want to believe Eileen…but she was hardly an insensible hunter. Was all of this…truly needed? Was he truly that dangerous? He would recall nights where Viola had to use the sweet tone of the music box to bring his mind back. Eileen had no such item to awaken his senses. His family was not with him here to call his humanity to return. Even then…what if their presence could not? He shivered at the thought before shaking it from his mind.

“You would end it…?” Gascoigne asked, looking to the hunter of hunters.

“If It need be, yes.” Eileen answered simply. “I am prepared t’do what I have to.”

Gascoigne breathed deeply before straightening his posture.

“Get on with it then.”

Eileen nodded. She began to undo some of the ties on her grey gloves. She tossed one aside once her flesh was exposed to the outside elements. With her other hand, Eileen produced one of her throwing knives. She turned her arm palm down and placed the edge of the knife to her skin lightly. Eileen looked back up through her mask at the large hunter in his chains.

“On your mark.” Eileen said.

Gascoigne nodded as he braced himself for the smell of blood.

With a quick motion, Eileen put a cut across her flesh. She let the blood seep up from the wound, eventually it pooled over down to the underside of her arm. There it had begun to drip. drip. drip.

Gascoigne could have sworn he could see the scent. It curled from Eileen and wafted easily in his direction. He inhaled and felt his body go rigid. His hands curled tight. Something was different then being bathed in the blood of beasts. This was a human’s unturned blood and its song was far sweeter. Despite the lulling scent of Eileen’s blood, he was still aware of himself. He quickly became aware that something was wrong. 

He could feel his heart as it accelerated.

Gods…his heart…it was going to burst from his chest.

Gascoigne fell to his knees and clutched at his chest. A wave of pain went through his frame that originated from his torso’s center. It crept through his shoulders and down his arms. He was aware of an itching sensation in his mouth very similar to when his initial fangs came in from his current infection.

He was too stunned to talk. This was different than anything he had felt before.

No…he had felt this before.

That night…

He was turning into something. Something beastly. He had to stop it. Stop it now.

“Eileen–!” Gascoigne couldn’t help but call out the hunters name in his pain.

There was a pop that resounded from his shoulder as it lengthened and settled once more. The tension then traveled down his arm to his hand where his fingers began to pull forward with cracked noises as they grew long black claws. 

His spine made a hollow pop with the eager will to lengthen. The Father felt his ribs widen under his hand. He was loosing the battle against his own body. 

“Eileen…do something–!!”

Eileen had been watching the scene slightly entranced but snapped out of her daze quickly. She leap forward to Gascoigne’s side. She had readied a cloth marinated in scent killing herbs similar to the ones she kept in her own mask. The crow hunter pressed it to Gascoigne’s nose and mouth harshly, holding his back with the other. She could feel his muscles pulsate and writhe under his cloak.

“Breath. Breath deep…”

Gascoigne grasped Eileen’s hand and the cloth to his face with his unchanged hand. He breathed harshly, panting in the scent. It numbed his nose and traveled down his airways. His heart had begun to slow. His body to stop its growing and changing.

“Easy…easy now.” Eileen said softly, tried to talk him through his endeavor.

Gascoigne stopped to look at his new form. He held up his changed trembling hand to his face as he continued to breath in the scent of the cloth with his other.

“What….is this Eileen…?” He said through labored breaths. “Is this…what happened before…?”

Eileen shook her head as she studied his beastly transfigured limb.

“No…no it was much worse.”

“Worse!?” Gascoigne couldnt help but snarl the answer. What was he? Some…half beasted creature now? Something the plague had failed to fully pull under its spell and now he was left half torn in its current?

“Iy…Iy can’t go back to them Eileen. Not like this…”

“Aye. But y’can’t tell me you’d be truthful with yourself if you said you didn’t want to return to them.”  Eileen said.

Even as his limb began to return to its normal state, Gascoigne nodded. Eileen was right. He had been losing himself on nights like this before. What had brought him back? The music box…making him think of Viola and the Girls.

“There must be some way to manage this Eileen.”

“Blood seems to make it start.” Eileen stood from his side to move around to his front. She began undoing the cuffs on his wrists.

“Blood had been the cause of my ailment before Eileen. Yet I have lived among my family then.”

Eileen tilted her head in thought. It was true that beasts who had lost their minds to the scourge would wander back to their homes in search of their memories. Scouring in the pitiable state for some scrap of themselves to remain. Gascoigne’s humanity…could lie with his family.

“Their presence could be a remedy for this, Eileen.”

“Hush, Im tryin to think!” Eileen raised a hand to quiet him.

The man’s only salvage and refuge was among what most precious to him. It had torn down the wall of beastily idiocy in his mind before. What had truly caused him to return from the dark recesses of the scourge?

The fear of losing them.

And without fear, we are no better than the beasts.

“If I let you return…you must not go out on the hunt until I have better understood this.”

“I am a hunter Eileen! To suggest otherwise is foolish! Viola knows this…”

“Aye, but until I can know what it causin’ this, you must resist the frenzy of the hunt.” Eileen said firmly as she finished undoing the last cuff. She stood first and tied off her wound which had begun to clot. She offered her other hand to the priest. 

“If you suppose anythin’ might be goin’ wrong, anythin you can’t with-hold, I want you to come straight here, understood?”

Gascoigne could not meet her gaze for a moment. He rubbed his wrists where the iron cuffs once were locked.

“Understood, Gascoigne?”

He looked up at her and paused before taking her hand in his own.

“Aye…understood.”

“Eileen?”

“Hmm?”

“…I beg you…don’t tell Viola.”

Chapter Text

“I’ve just put the girls t’bed.”

Gascoigne told Viola as he descended the steps in his home.

It was the usual evening in Yharnam when the moon was to be full. The beasts and hunters prowled about the streets. The harrowing moans and chants of the half-breed men could be heard through the barred windows of the home. They scoured the streets for prey.

Gascoigne had assured his daughters they would be safe in their beds.

“No beasts can harm y’here, my young cubs.” He told them as he kissed their foreheads goodnight.

“Hopefully the mongrels outside wont wake them–ach!” Gascoigne caught himself on the stair-well railing as the pain that had ebbed and flowed through him all evening raised its head. It came in waves, seemingly stronger each time.

Viola raised her head from her book at the sound of her husbands distress.

“Gascoigne…?”
“I’m…alright. I’m alright.” He said as he straightened himself and continued to the stair’s bottom. “Just old wounds complainin’.”
Viola closed her book. She placed it on the stand beside her chair before she rose to meet her husband.

“The old scars?” She put her hands lightly on his stomach. She traveled her palms upwards, to his shoulders as far as she could reach. It was there she settled her fingers.

Gascoigne smiled warmly at his wife. The pain be damned. He loved this woman so.

Gascoigne wrapped his arms around his wife, bending over to do so. He held her close, taking in her scent. Viola’s scent..it was such a sweet melody. That beat

in

  rhythmic

               time.

The scent cameand went and cameand went…

A horror steadily dawned upon the husband.

Gods…he could smell her pulse!

Compelled by self disgust, the father put immediate distance between him and his wife.

“Gascoigne…what is it?” Viola’s brow furrowed in worry.

The husband heard his own heart in his ears now. It pounded at an accelerated rate.

Gascoigne grasped his chest with a hard breath.

No…no no no no no….

“Are you in that much pain, dear?” Viola took a step to approach her husband. He recoiled from her touch.

“N…no…” He grunted out before inhaling sharply. “Iy have to go.”

The husband quickly moved towards the door of his home. He had to get to Eileen’s. Now.

“Gascoigne, what is going on?” Viola raised her voice.

“Please…Iy have to go.” He begged her.
“Tell me what is happening!” Her tone wavered on frustration.

“Viola please.”
“Why do you need to leave?”
“Viola…”
“Is it the scourge? Speak to me Gascoigne, this is foolishness–!”
“STOP!”
Gascoigne snarled audibly. Viola could have sworn something animalistic briefly appeared in his features.

A spider could be heard on its silk thin legs scuttling across the floor at the silence that occurred between the two. It was palpable.

“Don’t follow me.”
Gascoigne told Viola before he promptly opened, left and slammed the door to their home. It caused the cold night air to enter the home. Its gust wavered the lit flame of a lantern before extinguishing it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gascoigne ran through the narrow streets of Yharnam. He dodged the many coffins in his wake that lined every nook and cranny of the cursed city. He ran through the pain that flowed in his veins. Eileen. He had to get to Eileen.

A crippling stabb twisted through his frame. Gascoigne cried out in anger and his boot caught on the chain of an ill placed coffin.

He sprawled hard on the cobbled stone street.

Gascoigne panted for a moment after his fall. He caught a glimpse of one of his own transfigured clawed hands and growled in frustration.  

Why was this happening now? There was no blood, no hunt to cause this!

“Oh…?” A voice that sounded as though it had swallowed sand-paper rounded a corner.

A troop of hunting beast-men heard the commotion Gascoigne had caused and sniffed out its source.

They breathed heavily from chests with widened ribs and protruding sternums. The hair of their overgrown beards was indistinguishable from what was growing in sewny clumps from their heads and necks.

“Its a minister…”
“‘Minister on the night of the hunt…”
“Unarmed.”

Gascoigne’s limbs shook at his effort to stand. His bones ached as if they were filled with splinters in their growing pains. He snarled fiercely like a cornered hound at the group.

“Away with you! Lest it be your blood spilt this night!”
“The minister growls.” One of the beast-men who donned a thick cloak said. His yellow teeth shown from the shadows of his hood. “He snarls, he does.”

Gascoigne bared his fangs in his effort to intimidate his adversaries. He swiped out with a clawed hand but his body took advantage of the motion with a jab of pain to his own widening ribs. He recoiled quickly with a strained gasp.

It caused the beast hunters to laugh at his efforts.

“Such a fierce big beast.”

“Death to him!” One cried out in half-minded frenzy. “ Death to those who have forsaken us! Death to beasts!”

“Beasts!” Another echoed. “Creature of a holy man!”
The beast-men bellowed out in their hunt-induced madness. They readied dull pitchforks and axes rusted in blood. The sound of their iron equal to their calls for death.

Gascoigne breathed raggedly. He bit back a grunt of pain as a pop echoed from a joint on his body. His mind had begun to fill with a dark fog.

Very well.

These mongrels wanted a beast to hunt? He’d give them a beast–

There was a sound of confusion from the beast-men. They scuffled in shoes that couldn’t contain clawed toes against the stone street. A new threat drew their attention now.

“You heard th’ man…away. Before my blade finds you.” A female voice said.

The half-breeds grunted and showed their torches warily in the direction of the new comer. They clumped, brandishing their weapons in diseased hands.

“Be gone!” The woman cried out.

The beast men shrunk at the power of her voice and presence. They slunk away, much in the way of cornered rats. It was when they crept back into the night in search of an easier hunt did Eileen the crow approach her fallen friend.

“Gascoigne…fool hunter! Why are you out on a night like this? I told you to avoid the hunt!”
“Its not the blood, Eileen.” Gascoigne told the hunter of hunters.

The large hunter groaned when he put forth the effort to stand, but his body was failing him now. He managed to catch himself from completely folding from the pain of a change being fought within him. Another crack and squelch resounded from his form.

“Its happening again…”

Eileen kneeled by her friend. She put a hand on his shoulder an nearly withdrew it in surprise at the tension and pulsation of the mans muscles that could be felt underneath his garb.

“Stay with me now…”

The crow hunter looked about for anymore present threats before she stood. Eileen managed Gascoignes rigid form to rise before she saddled the massive hunters weight on her shoulders. If anything she could have sworn he had grown in size.

“Stay with me.” Her tone was slow and soft. Keep the animal calm.

She had to move quickly.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Viola raised the lantern in her hand. Particles of burning stakes rode on the night air of yharnam.

Where are you, foolish man?

Viola was filled to the brim with Gascoigne’s nonsense. She had to find him and bring him home. He wasn’t right…the scourge must have been pumping its influence through him. She clutched the music box in her other hand under her cloak.

She’d bring the fool home. Calm his mind.

As Viola traveled the streets, a familiar figure came into view. She would recognize her anywhere by her feathered garb.

“Eileen!”

The crow raised her masked face to the approaching woman. She leaned against the door of a yharnam building, her arms folded.

“Miss Viola. Why are you out on a night of the hunt?”

“Why else? I am looking for my fool husband. Please tell me you’ve seen him, Eileen.” Viola told the crow.

“Iy have. He went to meet Henryk. Something about the church.” Eileen lied to the yharnam wife. The words felt somewhat sour on her tongue. Viola only worried about her husband.

“I see…”

“He told me to tell you he’d be back by mornin. Can I do anythin for you in his stead, Miss Viola?”

Viola sighed in anger. Her knuckles were white around the lanterns handle.

“Yes. You can tell him I need to speak with him when he comes home.”

Eileen nodded her head. She had promised Gasciogne she would not share his condition to his family. Oh, but how a part of her wished she could. How unfair to his wife the situation was.

“Aye. I’ll do that. Y’best get home now, Miss Viola. The hunt is dangerous tonight.”

Eileen watched the yharnam wife leave her sight. It was only when she was sure Viola was out of hearing range did she sigh. The Crow hunter turned her face to to sky to look at the full moons orb float in the cosmos. Full just like it was that night.

Just like it was when Gascogne first turned.

Eileen turned swiftly to open the door she was leaning on. It creaked in its old hinges as she entered before shutting it.

Eileen’s feathered cloak followed her movement as she made her way to the basement of her hideaway.

“Gascoigne, I have an theory at what might be causin’ your aliment…..”

She trailed off at what she saw now in the thick iron chains.

A large towering beast, a grey frayed mane of hair rising from bandage covered eyes. Under the familiar crooked nose, panted a mouth filled with beastial-human teeth. The creature’s flesh torn at the sides of the mouth.

She recognized the beast that attacked her that one night.

When the moon was full.

It now was before her once more in chains.

The creature that was now Gascoigne turned its attention on the feathered thing that had entered.

This feathered thing was familiar but how. …this feathered thing.

Gascoigne moved forward on all fours to approach Eileen. His long black talons clicked off the stone floor.

The crow’s hand instinctively flew to the hilt of her blade as she stepped back.

The chains snapped taunt. The beast had moved as far as he could go. His face stopped close to the tip of Eileen’s beaked mask. She could feel his hot breath even under her leather garb. The hunter of hunters inhaled, taking in her friends new shape.

“Iy…leen…” The creature gargled in a mouth no longer fit for speech. In a stretched angry throat.

The crow released her pent breath. She smiled sadly under her ivory mask. She tepidly raised a hand and placed it on the mane of grey rising from the beast’s head.

“What a mess we’ve got ourselves caught up in…”