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Who knew that a park full of blood-starved bloodfiends would ALSO be full of hand-chopping crazy people?!
Hugo certainly didn’t, and he’s glad he saved up enough for a small K Corp ampule… Enough to regenerate his hands, just this once! A little investment goes a long way, that’s what his boss told him, and she was right… Washing the blood out of his coat is going to suck, but it’s worth not dying.
It’s difficult navigating a park that’s covered head-to-toe by creatures that most definitely can smell your blood and want to get as much of it as they can. Luckily for Hugo, that weird team of fixers has cleared out most of them, leaving them either dead or too weakened to chase after him for now. Hopefully, those fixers will just assume he’s dead too and not come looking for him to finish the job…
They would’ve gone to, what, the haunted house place next? Maybe he could head to the… Ugh, he’d check his map, but he gave it to those guys... He looked around for a moment, before trotting over to take a pamphlet from one of the abandoned stands, and unfolded it to look it over. Right. The Eternal Carnival, huh…
He certainly can’t run away from the park, he has to at least earn some Ahn from this whole thing, especially now that he had to use that ampule. Why couldn’t things just work out for him, man? He has to go to that carnival area, at least find something he can bring back and exchange for some cash.
As he draws closer to it though, he feels some uncertainty. Especially with the music, something feels… Off. Like everything in the park is holding its breath when he draws near. He can already see the side view of the float, and he has literally no clue what in the world it’s supposed to be, or what it could have been when the park was running. An elephant with dead bodies for a trunk? Some sort of monkey, or badger? The bloodfiends here certainly don’t seem any better off than those of the first area, and… Oh god. Is that the group from the Fanghunt Office? Their whole job is killing bloodfiends, but look at them, done up in purple ribbons and bows like some girl’s dress up dolls!
He manages to pull the mask off of a fallen bloodfiend, a gruesome sight but he’ll at least try to blend in and hopefully have that be enough to fool the parade until he can find somewhere to hide before they slowly move on. It’s hard to get a good look around with so many bloodfiends swarming, but it really feels like they’re all in some sort of trance. Is it the song, maybe, that’s controlling them? Maybe if there’s some sort of tech involved, he could pick it up and sell it off…
But as he draws a bit closer, he gets a better view of a woman atop the parade’s main float. She definitely has to be the overseer, with that dramatic mask of hers and overly complicated dress. If he squinted hard enough, he can just make out the honestly tangled state the bottom of her hair is in, and he can only assume that it has to be a major pain in the rear to manage all that hair with no help from such mentally unstable bloodfiends… Wait, why is he even being so judgemental and critical about it? It’s not like this is a beauty pageant, nor is he really one to judge…
He freezes up, feeling her red eyes behind the mask lock with his own. Right… Just one look at his eyes, and it’s clear he isn’t just some frolicking bloodbag. He feels himself break out into a cold sweat, a sense of fear momentarily paralyzing him, locking him in place. He gives a sheepish and awkward smile without really meaning to, maybe his body just thinks that’ll somehow placate the hunter staring him down. She beckons to him with a clawed hand, and he breaks into a struggle as he feels the dressy bloodfiends begin to swarm and push him forward towards the float, until hes forced to claw his way up the shoddy exterior so he doesn’t get suffocated against it…
The parade was to move monotonously today, as it did yesterday, and as it has since this dreaded park had opened.
Despite her position within the parade, Dulcinea was no true princess. She was just a figurehead, yet another decoration for the shambling relic of La Manchaland’s past. Her body, out of some sick sense of obedience, forced her onto the float day after day, night after night, until time no longer held any meaning for her. She was not Dulcinea, the princess, a charming kindred. No, she was only Dulcinea, the object, the merchandise, the thing to be ogled at and desired only to then be left behind as the park had closed.
She cannot remember the last time she felt wanted as herself, and not as the idea she has become.
But then she feels some sort of critical eye on her, not one of disgust or contempt, nor one of objectifying desire. There’s a part of her that almost feels hopeful that she’s being seen, but she knows it’s only a foolish thought.
Until she sees him.
Him!!!
There’s some sort of flutter in her hollow chest, a feeling she hasn’t felt before, not since she became a bloodfiend. That blue colored coat sticks out amongst the sea of purples and blacks, even with his poorly done attempt at trying to disguise himself with a discarded mask. For once, she feels so fortunate for her mask, she can feel what little blood she has rise and warm her cheeks for the first time in so long.
If she left him in the crowd, he would certainly be found out and swarmed upon, torn into pieces, and…!!
No. She cannot allow such a thing to happen.
She beckons him forward, and her kindred take notice, following her silent command and pushing the human closer to the float, his flailing hardly able to stop them. He’s soon pushed to the front, forced onto the float, where he stumbles to his feet, having to glance up at her ever so slightly.
“U-Uhm…” He begins to try to nervously stutter out, but she shushes him with a soft press of nail against lip. If she were any younger of a maiden, perhaps she would dabble in the whimsy of rose-colored daydreams, but she no longer has room for such thoughts. (She tells herself that, yet the dreamy side of her cannot help but to yearn for a brighter future full of meaningful adoration. But she would certainly never admit to such a thing, no, never. She is not like her Father.)
“You are… One of the ‘fixers’ that have come to stop my parade, aren’t you?” She tries to put on a distant air, trying to show maturity that is more fitting of her position as a Second Kindred. Certainly he must be in some sort of awe after witnessing how graceful and lovely she is.
“M-Me? What? No, no, no way… Just… Just a wandering visitor, hahah…” He grins nervously, and it’s easier for her to see his expression since the shoving had forced him to let go of that mask he tried to hold. She knows he’s lying, but she almost appreciates the attempt.
His face, his nose, the way he awkwardly smiles… It’s perfect for a prince, isn’t it? No… She cannot fall to such fantastical fantasies, lest she end up like her Father.
Oh, if only she could be swept away from all of this, taken away from this cycle of suffering… And her closest two kindreds, as well, as she could never leave them behind.
“I see…” She regains her poise, standing tall as a lady such as herself certainly should never slouch in the presence of… No, no. She’s daydreaming too much again. She mustn’t get carried away, even if for a moment such whimsical thoughts seem to lessen the pain of hunger.
“Then… Did you come specifically to see The Most Beautiful Woman in La Manchaland?”
Hugo is still intimidated by the danger the bloodfiend poses, no doubt, he isn’t sure if he should just struggle and succumb to his fate, or try to wait it out and pray that some light shines upon him to help him get out of this place with his life…
But “The Most Beautiful Woman in La Manchaland”? Really? That reminds him of some old show, he can’t place the name on it, but it’s kind of ridiculous… Either the bloodfiend is very full of herself, or she’s a lot less sane than she lets on. Or both, really.
“Y-Yeah, sure…” He forces out through gritted teeth, if there’s anything he’s learned it’s a lot better to play along with a crazy’s crazy than to get on their bad side… “And… Wowww… You’re even, uh, better in person…” He mentally slaps himself, it’s so obvious how disingenuous he’s being, it’s awful. Just kill him now.
Dulcinea can see how disingenuous he is being, but she can’t help but to find it… Charming. She must steel her nerves, she is a second kindred, she is a dignified lady. She cannot crack a smile every time she is mildly amused. “Hah… Of course. My attraction is simply the best there is, as none are capable of competing with one such as I,” she can’t help but to let a bit of amusement seep into her tone. She hates being an attraction, being an object that is only to be seen, but she’s perhaps having a bit of fun pretending to be more prideful than she truly is. She shouldn’t be trying so hard to impress such an unremarkable human, yet here she is. How foolish.
“Yeaaah…” Hugo glances down at the parade, then back to her, a bit nervous about having her out of sight. He isn’t quite ready to die yet. “So… Do you just… Stand here all day, or…” He awkwardly placed his hands into his pockets, they’re still a little numb from having regenerated.
“I do…” That reminder, it diminishes the feelings that began to stir within her, dispelling her daydream of escape and freedom to live once more. “But that is my role here, as the Princess of the Parade. I have done this for many years before your birth, and I will continue to for many after.” She cannot hold back a small sigh with her words. Of course, no amount of daydreaming and wishing would save her from this, a hell she caused by inciting the revolt against their Father, especially not by the hands of a mere human.
“Damn, that… Really sucks, man,” Hugo was a bit caught off, he’d expect at least some moments of rest, like a scheduled fifteen minute break from work or something… He nervously fiddles with his pockets, glancing at the rest of the parade again. The blood red of her eyes is hard to keep up eye contact with, he keeps feeling like he’s being stared down at by a hungry spider. “Why don’t you just… Leave then? When the place opens, I mean, why don’t you just sneak out? This seems like a lot of effort for, I don’t know, a small meal or something.”
“Leave?” She sounded almost offended, yet slightly confused. She couldn’t leave, she had to stay with the Family, with her Kindreds, with Father. “I could never, this is where I must stay. There is simply nowhere else for me to go, I can not go anywhere.”
Hugo paused, then frowned a bit. If she wasn’t capable of utterly killing him with a flick of the wrist, he’d almost want to reach out to comfort her. But he isn’t really… That type of person to begin with. Not usually, at least. He’d almost feel bad for using this longing to guarantee himself an exit out of La Manchaland, but he has to do something, he doesn’t want to get turned into a bloodbag for this stupid parade. “I could… Help you, yeah. Get you and your, uh, kindreds out of this place.”
And Dulcinea knows she shouldn’t trust him, she shouldn’t believe a word that he says. She should listen to what her instincts say and turn him into a bloodbag, relish in the spilling of blood she’s been starved of for so long. But she… Can’t. There’s a small part of her that wants to be truthful, that wants to pretend that her life is just some fantastical story where she ends up whisked away to happiness. Something that could never happen, not for her.
But she wants it. So, so very bad. To escape this, this thing that she cannot even call a life.
“We would have to hurry then,” her voice grows a bit more quiet, “There are plans in motion that I cannot stop. My Kindreds will be waiting nearby, but Father…”
To Hugo, it’d seem like she was looking into some far off place, as if she’s debating with herself. But she knows that, truly, she’s looking to where they staked their Father to the ferris wheel, the weight of that sin keeping them stuck in this eternal hell.
She can’t let Nicolina and Curiambro, her poor Kindreds that she dragged down with her, suffer any longer.
“H-Hey, what are you–!” Hugo is caught off guard by the bloodfiend sweeping him off his feet, literally, and easily descending from the parade float in a hurry despite the long gown.
“Lady Dulcinea! Lady Dulcinea!” The other bloodfiends begin to gasp and exclaim, shocked by her sudden departure from the eternal performance, even as their bodies still moved to the instructions they had been given so long ago.
“Stay put, ” She orders them firmly, and they must listen to the higher ranked bloodfiend, and even Hugo shrinks back a bit at the firmness in her tone.
He doesn’t dare speak until they get far enough from the parade, he could feel all of their eyes on him and he didn’t like it one bit. But being carried like this is… Really humiliating, honestly. “Okay, you can… Put me down now, princess,” he’s still a bit wary about how he talks to her, trying to stay easygoing and make himself seem as harmless as he can, he doesn’t want to die, not when he’s gotten this far.
But why, why does that make Dulcinea’s heart skip again? It’s almost distressing just how easily this human can have an effect on her, she shouldn’t feel this way so easily. “Right… Just stay close, then, we have all been starving for so long that it is hard to even hold myself back,” yet despite her words, her hunger feels slightly weaker with him, like this foolish fantasy of being saved is somehow taking the painful edge off of her hunger.
The trip to where Nicolina and Curiambro would be waiting passed in an awkward silence, with Hugo too wary to speak up and Dulcinea too closed off to want to make meaningless chitchat. Eventually they arrived, an abandoned gift shop near the ferris wheel, the proximity to their Father making her stomach churn. And Hugo’s stomach churns for a different reason, because of course her kindred would be the Barber who eagerly commented about wanting to kill him anyways. Just great.
“You… You are supposed to be on the float, did something go wrong?” Curiambro spoke up first, as Nicolina is still upset about having her mask come loose.
“Yes, Curiambro, there has been… A change of plans. This human promises us escape, a reprieve from this endless performance.” Dulcinea moves to assist her kindreds in getting up. It’s been so long, but for the first time in a while, she feels a sort of… Worry about the two, in their far more injured states.
“ That?! You trust that?! ” Nicolina squawked, pointing at Hugo with an accusatory finger. To see someone as lovely and prestigious as the Second Kindred with someone so… Slovenly! So ugly! It offended her and her sense of aesthetics!
“...Nicolina,” Dulcinea warned, leaning forward slightly to give a firm stare to her Kindred. Again, more things that she doesn’t know why she’s feeling them, this time it’s a sense of upset at having her choice questioned. She tells herself it’s due to her Kindred doubting her, that it isn’t because she’s grown so soft for the human in such a short amount of time.
“But what about Father?” Curiambro spoke up, far more reasonable, reigning in Nicolina with a calm hand pressed onto her arm, “We’ve already committed the sin of filial impiety… We were the direct cause for it, it will not be as easy for us as it was for your former Prince.”
“That’s true,” Dulcinea nodded gently, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Why did she feel so defensive? “But… You know it was Father’s dream for Bloodfiends to get along with humans. Maybe this time it will be different, or at the very least we will finally escape from here. Together.”
“Thats…” Curiambro pauses, then sighs. “And what of Sancho, then? Her and her companions will surely be arriving at their next destination soon enough. And Sansón–”
“Enough.” Dulcinea cuts him off with a firm tone, straightening her posture, a hand gripping Hugo’s shoulder. “We cannot live like this any longer. We were not supposed to survive on hemobars and empty promises. To hell with Sancho and Father’s little game, I have had enough of this performance. The parade ends tonight.”
Curiambro falls silent, reluctant, but Nicolina seems more reaffirmed by Dulcinea’s stern behavior, “Right! We tried it Father’s way, and now look where it’s gotten us! I think we ought to give it a shot!” She rises quickly, and is momentarily unsteady from her pre-existing injuries, but she collects herself quickly.
“I won’t force you to come with, Curiambro,” Dulcinea then softens her tone, loosening her grip on Hugo’s shoulder as he awkwardly watched in silence. Talk about family drama, huh… Is all that crosses his mind, along with not quite knowing what’s going on since he doesn’t know the complete ins and outs of being a bloodfiend.
“If you two are going, then I shall as well,” Curiambro solemnly responds, slowly rising to stand with Nicolina. Even if the dynamics of a family were forced onto the trio by their nature as bloodfiends, the reluctance to be apart now goes deeper than that. They committed that sin together, so they should escape together.
“Right…” Hugo clears his throat to try to brush past the silence that briefly fell, “Let’s get going then. Don’t wanna run into that Sancho, y’know, hahah…” His nerves are building again, but who can blame him when he is surrounded by the three overseers of La Manchaland? All his intel has been right so far, and he doesn’t want to see just how strong they really are, even in their weakened and hungry state.
Hugo tentatively takes the lead, even though the three definitely know the park better than he does. He’s thankful for the hood of his coat, it serves as a slight barrier between him and the masked gazes of the overseers. He can pick up on the quiet steps approaching him, and he really hopes it’s just his imagination, just this once.
“...So what is your name, human?” It’s Dulcinea who begins in a gentle tone, the two of them a few paces ahead of the injured Nicolina and Curiambro. He glances over to her, she’s at least more bearable than that barber is…
“Oh, right, you can just call me Hugo. Just your average fixer from the North,” he shrugged, trying to play it cool despite his nerves.
A fixer… Such a concept is what had enraptured their Father in the first place, yet Dulcinea cannot see the fantasized heroism and honor even despite her own ideation of the man. “I see… Hugo.” She tries it, and then nods, “You are not as… Whimsical and heroic as the tales my Father was told would suggest. You don’t have that overexaggerated sense of honor.” She stated bluntly, yet she doesn’t mean for it to be a bad thing. But when Hugo furrows his brow a bit, she quickly adds, “I like that, though.” She steps closer then, gripping her parasol, her cold heart flutters once again at such a thing to admit.
“Right…” Hugo responds, still feeling uncertain about the closeness. “Thanks, I guess? I’m just a small-timer, though. The only people who put on the heroic act are either newbies or they have some sort of mental problems…” He doesn’t mean to be so critical, but he’s just being honest. People like that Don Quixote girl are nothing but trouble, being a fixer isn’t some heroic job, it’s just the best way to get the money together that’s necessary to live without chaining yourself down to a certain district.
But for Dulcinea, the criticism of such fixers feels like a relief. She doesn’t want some perfect honorable fixer as her Prince, she wants… No, no, she doesn’t need a Prince at all, especially if she quits being the Princess of the Parade! “It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?” She cannot help but to let out a soft laugh, for the first time in so, so long, it feels almost strange. “Such foolish beliefs in honor and chivalry belong in fairytales, not in reality. That’s something our… Father never could learn.” She felt a slight sting of melancholy once the words came out, but her own growing enamoration for the man made her feel almost too at ease.
And that soft laugh made Hugo blush ever so slightly, but he can’t really be blamed for it. She’s still pretty, even with however many lifetimes of starvation and her inherent danger as a bloodfiend. It made a bit of his confidence come back, if it weren’t for the situation they were in he’d feel almost normal about this, “Well, you’re not wrong, princess. Honestly, a lot of people end up dying on their first few missions trying to play hero. It’s kind of embarrassing, really…”
Again, her heart skips at being called that. Not as a title, nor as her role, but in a far more natural way. “I know, such a trait seems to run in my Family and it gives me secondhand embarrassment as well. Father and my…” She pauses, she still feels a sense of bitterness and contempt for Sancho, no matter how badly Father wanted her to acknowledge the other as her ‘sister’, “My fellow kindred both indulges in such stories. And you see where that has gotten us, starved in a theme park and left to die.”
“Heavy…” Hugo breathes in through his teeth, before sighing, “So, your whole ‘family’ thing, are these two like your kids, or–” He had grown pretty curious about how she kept mentioning family and her father like it’s something more than just who she’s related to, but he’s cut off by Nicolina’s squawking.
“Dulcinea! There’s Sancho, and Sansón!” She tugged Dulcinea’s sleeve slightly, pointing at the two and the others who approached alongside them.
“...Right. Of course he would find us and lead her to us, he’s determined to see that this play goes as he planned it.” Dulcinea nods her acknowledgement, once again taking the mantle of a detached and more serious second kindred, sterner than the more delicate side she had been showing moments before.
…Nicolina had of course picked up on such a delicate display. She still thinks that human is the worse choice she could’ve made, but part of her is happy to finally see Dulcinea happy after so long of seeing her sulk and frown.
When the Limbus Company team had arrived to see the parade float abandoned, Sansón knew he had to course correct immediately. In order for the best possible outcome to play out, Sancho must confront her entire Family, not just the senior Don Quixote.
He had to adjust his storytelling, pull them along to where the three kindreds and their human guide would be. A hero’s journey must be earned, growth must happen as naturally as possible.
“Dulcinea. Are you truly running away now, after everything?” Sancho means to show concern, even with their ever strained relationship. She knows by now of their filial impiety, yet she also knows of how much Father cared for the three others.
“Do not act as if you know me, Sancho,” Dulcinea responds sharply, surprising even herself with her hostility. She smooths out her dress as well as her attitude before responding, “I do not wish to be a part in an ever-repeating parade any longer. My Kindreds and I shall leave this place, and forge our own path to live with the humans.”
“And what of your hunger? How many lives will be lost when you three fall into a frenzy?” Sancho stepped forward. Her words come out harsh, but she doesn’t want to see the three fall any further into madness than they already have.
“As many as necessary. Father did not provide for us, and so I must step in to be the one who provides,” Dulcinea remained firm, keeping her eyes locked to Sancho’s. She cannot back down, nor will she ever willingly do such a thing. Not now, not when they finally have a chance to leave.
“Then I must stop you,” Sancho summoned her lance, in a far better state than her fellow kindreds, “Father… Would not want such a thing to come to pass. So I will put an end to this, before you all hurt yourselves.”
Hugo sweats a bit and steps back, watching as Dulcinea prepared her parasol. He should make a break for it, run while the kindreds are busy with their family drama. But he almost feels… Bad for them. Stuck in this cycle of repeating the roles given to them, starved for who knows how long, and… Alone. If things get messy, he’ll save his own skin first, but that doesn’t stop the vague feeling of sympathy he has for them.
But then he’s utterly blown away at how quickly the two kindreds throw themselves at each other, even with Dulcinea being starved for blood. The clash of hardened blood against the parasol makes him take another few steps backwards away from the combat. He glances to see that fixer team from earlier, including the damn one who cut off his hands, all equally wary about getting involved in such a personal fight.
A heavy clash makes Dulcinea stagger back, with Sancho quickly closing the gap. She doesn’t aim to kill, just to incapacitate until this is all over. But then Curiambro and Nicolina dive in to interfere, the barber’s scissors clashing with the hardened lance.
“Enough! You got to leave, why can’t we have our turn?!” Nicolina lets out her frustration, the result of so many years of suffering.
“This is our last chance to be able to remain alive,” Curiambro uses a much calmer tone, yet he’s still pained by the suffering he’s had to bear witness to for so long.
“...Please, you two. This is between Dulcinea and myself. This has been coming for a long time, and we need to settle it,” she just wants to put their conflict behind them, to try to resolve this ongoing tension after so long.
“I agree,” Dulcinea began to rise, resting her parasol over her shoulder as she stepped forward. “But my Kindreds play as much of a role in this as I do. We decided to commit that sin together, it is far too late to turn our backs on one another now.”
Sancho’s brow furrows a bit. Even with their madness, they’ve perhaps grown even closer as a familial unit. Without Father to try to guide them, Dulcinea has had to fill the role as the one in charge. She never should have been forced into that role after she was already forced to be the Princess of the Parade, and Sancho only wishes she could have stayed to take the weight of being the ‘boss’, even if she herself isn’t particularly fond of the idea.
“As you wish, then,” Sancho solemnly responds, enhancing her lance, aiming right for Dulcinea in between her two Kindreds. She quickly lunges then, a precise strike so that she can suppress the threat without any fatal incident.
But Curiambro and Nicolina did not get that memo. To them, with their vision somewhat lacking due to the extent of their prior injuries, it looked as if Sancho was aiming straight for Dulcinea’s heart.
And neither of them could allow such a thing to happen.
Perhaps it’s instinct, or perhaps it’s a desire to protect that causes them to both leap forward to block the oncoming spear.
It’s the shriek Hugo hears first, before seeing the two speared bloodfiends. It’s gruesome, Dulcinea stumbles back as Sancho’s face slowly turns into an expression of shocked realization.
Somewhere, there’s a light ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ from the one who had planned the original script that has since derailed.
“Dulcinea, I…” Sancho begins, quickly losing her words.
Things weren’t supposed to go like this for either of them.
Perhaps it’s instinct.
Perhaps it’s a desire to protect this bloodfiend he’s developed sympathy for.
Because Hugo then finally moves forward instead of back, grabbing Dulcinea’s slender wrist and running, pulling her along. Her body moves automatically, even if she can’t tear her masked eyes away from the bodies of her Kindred.
For once he isn’t running out of cowardice, but it’s now an actual reasonable retreat. He may not have something he can sell for Ahn, but if he didn’t do this he’d always feel some sort of guilt, because there is no way such an incident could be resolved with peaceful words. Not anymore.
There’s an emergency exit that leads out of the park, at least whoever constructed this place considered the safety of the park’s guests.
“Nicolina… Curiambro…” He could hear the despair in her voice and he gripped her wrist tighter, praying that she wouldn’t pull away to run and avenge the two. He doesn’t exactly know how resilient bloodfiends are to getting impaled, and he really doesn’t want to find out.
At least he wasn’t staying somewhere too far while he was working here in P Corp., he just has to hope she doesn’t try to go back.
Hours earlier he wouldn’t have expected to bring home a terribly shocked bloodfiend, yet here he is.
Hugo helps her settle down onto the shabby and cheap couch, even with her gown getting a bit in the way. Then he manages to gently pry the parasol out of her hands and shuts it, setting it to the side.
He’s not… Good at this, the whole comforting people thing. He’s barely even good at being genuinely encouraging, honestly. After becoming a fixer, he decided to not get too close to others, so he only has to look out for himself. But now, for some reason, he felt bad for a dangerous bloodfiend and brought her home.
Great.
Hugo sighed, taking off his coat and draping it over her shoulders the best he could. It feels a bit ridiculous, awkwardly trying to comfort one of the La Manchaland overseers who sat distressed on his couch.
If this was a dream, he wouldn’t mind waking up.
But for now, he quietly sits next to her, frowning a bit as her shock turned to despair. She covers her face, like there’s anything to hide with that big mask on her face, and she starts to sob. “I… I lost my kindreds,” her voice was pained and full of disbelief, her fingers curling against the upper edge of the mask.
“Hey, hey…” Hugo tries to speak in a more reassuring tone, but he comes out a bit too casual just with how he speaks, “Don’t cry, uh, Dulcinea. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to cry.”
God. That’s such a dumb thing to say, maybe he should’ve gotten impaled instead.
“Do you… Think I’m pretty?” She responds in a gentle, yet shakey tone.
“Of course, you said it yourself… You’re the most beautiful woman in La Manchaland.” He tries to reassure her, but winces. Damn it, he shouldn’t bring up that stupid park, not after what literally just happened.
“Even if…” She begins to tug at the mask, the peeling sound making Hugo wince. “Even if I look like this? ” With a harsh rip, the mask comes off, leaving bloodied holes where the threads were, showing her starved features and anguished expression. Sunken eyes, dried out skin, old blood smeared where the mask once was.
It’s… Bad, sure, but he’s seen worse on the walk to his office.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He tries to play a supportive role, to do what he’s seen on his television dramas during those late nights he’d sit around eating nothing but junk food… “I’ll help you get cleaned up,” a good excuse to recollect himself, patting her shoulder before getting up to head to the bathroom.
“Shit…” He laughs to himself nervously, rubbing his nose. He’s brought one of the most deadly things he could find into his home, no Ahn to show for his little mission in La Manchaland, and he could end up on the menu at any time. What in the world is he going to do? How the hell is he going to support himself and a bloodfiend, and– Wait, wait, wait, no, no. He’s not keeping the bloodfiend. No way, no how. Even if he feels bad for her, even if she’s honestly still pretty even with her fucked up face, even if she has nowhere to go…
He sighs, wetting a hand towel.
He’s keeping her around, isn’t he?
Begrudgingly, he leaves the bathroom and returns to the couch, slowly sitting down. “Hey, there there, princess…” He’s at least noticed that she doesn’t mind being called that, hopefully it wins him a few more ‘don’t eat this guy’ points.
And thankfully instead of eating him, she just gives him an honestly really pathetic look. So sad with her long lashes, and when he reaches up to start patting away the muck and blood from her face, she winces and lets out a small and involuntary hiss at the wetness of the rag. It makes him smile a little, showing a bit of his own blunter teeth.
“You’re like a cat, huh? Just hold still,” he moves his other hand to lightly grip her chin so she doesn’t pull away again, dabbing away the blood on her face, cleaning her up best he can. He really should patch up the threading holes, but he’ll save that for when he can get her to actually clean up.
Dulcinea puts up a bit of resistance, before getting used to it, and soon enough her face is cleaned. Still ragged from being starved for so long, but clean nonetheless. But even still, she’s gloomy and quiet, and he too frowns again.
“My Kindreds…” She begins, before her voice cracks with vulnerability and fails her, lowering her head to cover her face with her hands once again.
“...Yeah,” he responds awkwardly. Really, what do you do when faced with a distressed bloodfiend while already not being super great at being supportive or comforting? “Come here, princess,” but this time it comes out more naturally instead of just being used to try to gain her favor, he tugs his coat closer around her and pulls her into an awkward hug.
Cracks slowly turn into soft sobs, and he sits with her like that for a while. He leans back against the arm of the couch though, he’s honestly really worn out now that he’s gotten a chance to calm down, and thankfully she lays down with him.
He can’t do much for her, it’s not like he really gets the whole kindred thing. But trying at least means something, especially since now he isn’t trying out of wanting to save his own skin.
“My prince…” Dulcinea mutters against his chest, still mopey and sulking. He sighs then, patting her head.
Hugo’s really starting to… Care about her. Even if he’s still reluctant and wary, even if his instincts as a human say that he should probably get away from the thing that can literally kill him as soon as he possibly can.
. . .
It’s been a few weeks since Hugo helped Dulcinea escape La Manchaland. While she’s still distraught by what happened to her Kindreds, she’s at least gotten cleaner and in a bit of a better state.
With the whole situation in P Corp wrapped up, Hugo went home. But he couldn’t just… Leave her there, so with enough working and bargaining he was able to take her home with him. It was a costly adjustment, but things are finally starting to become somewhat normal. She’s got something else to wear other than that big dress, at least.
At this time of the day, she’s sitting at the dinner table watching the cheap television as she waits for dinner. Because of course, she’s too much of a damn princess to make her own food… Hugo pretends to be opposed to it, but really, he’s stopped minding. It’s a lot better than just eating whatever cheap shit he has lying around.
Besides, he’s more of the dinner than the actual food is when it comes to her.
“Do anything heroic today?” She starts, poking at the food with her fork. She eats more for the experience now, to get to share an activity with the one she’s settled on being her new ‘prince’, even without the presence of a parade to perform on.
“What do you think?” Hugo lets out an amused huff, giving her a grin. “Just the same ol’ same ol’... Don’t tell me you’re thinking of becoming a fixer. They don’t pay in blood, y’know.”
“Oh, come on,” Dulcinea rolls her eyes, “That’s not it and you know it. Dinner’s boring if we just sit and stare at each other.”
“I thought you liked staring at me!” Hugo feigns shock, but can’t hide his grin. He’s still the same, but Dulcinea’s gotten a bit healthier, still weary around the eyes but she’s doing better. Even though, the skincare products sure haven’t been making his wallet do better… The expenses in that department are going down though, and she makes up for it in not needing a ton of food or whatever else.
“No way. You’re ugly.” She deadpans, rolling her eyes, and Hugo knows she means that in the most endearing way possible.
“You’re the one who likes to give the bridge of my nose a nibble.”
“And you’re the one who tried washing my hair with a wet rag like I’m some sort of animal.”
It’s… Nice, really. Living like this and all.
Sure, feeding her need for blood can be pretty tough, Hugo likes to believe that their presence in each other’s lives is just as fulfilling as blood.
He never thought of himself as a caring person, and Dulcinea never thought the same of herself, even if for two vastly different reasons.
And now, when he wakes in the middle of the night with his neck still sore from dinner, he doesn’t feel the same wariness that he felt when he was first around her. He doesn’t feel that constant sense of danger, nor the anxiety and dread that came along with it.
Dulcinea herself still spends plenty of nights grieving over her lost Kindreds, over her Family, over the filial impiety she had committed against her Father so long ago.
“C’mon, princess…” Hugo tiredly mutters on those nights, lightly tugging her back into laying in bed with him. He never meant to share his bed with her so much, but he doesn’t really want to leave her to sob all night on her own even if he spends the majority of it asleep.
Plus, he’s also gotten used to the feeling of curling up with her, even if the bed is cramped and cheap, he wouldn’t want to lay in it alone after all that’s happened.
And now neither of them will be alone.