Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What are you thinking, Father?

Now that you have been put to eternal rest by the hands of those you loved the most.

Is it peaceful there? Is there a place where you are no longer haunted by this cursed sickness?

Do you look down upon us with regret and wrath from wherever your place may be?

It makes me wonder at times, would there ever be forgiveness for our sins?

Sancho stood idly by in front of the marked grave. Hidden away from the main park. Staring down the place of tribute to her father. Their father. It had been… a while, since she visited. And despite the times over the months she's done this- it somehow never quite got any easier.

"Father," she mutters to the stone delicately marking her parent's final resting place. Taking a breath and shifting her gaze to elsewhere. "All is well in La Manchaland."

"We are… alright. The children are feeding well, and the family is… happier, still."

Honestly, she still didn't know what she was trying to get at. She found herself coming by a little more in recent days. Not for any particular reason, she thinks- but she's been visiting more.

Sancho takes another breath, not sparing another glance at the grave. Closing her eyes, she continues.

"It is a shame you… could never be around to witness this joy. I… I'm sure, perhaps if you were free of your dreams in that time, you would enjoy it so."

What was a dream? Merely an unrealistic, fleeting thing. They're bloodfiends, they couldn't dream. They ended dreaming a while back ago.

Another long, heavy sigh. And Sancho shifts slightly, laughing to herself; "ironic, isn't it?"

"That we've rebuilt the very place that we felt trapped in… haah, even I… I can't help but admit it's grown familiar enough to be considered a home now."

They were free now, to live as they should. And yet here she stayed in a former prison of their own making. But, well- where else could they all go? Where else could she go?

Sancho shakes her head, leaving another a long stretch of silence. The only ambience being the gentle wind breezing by.

What are you thinking now, father?

Do you resent us still?

Do you still love us despite all the wrongs we've committed?

You did.

You loved us dearly, even with my lance piercing your chest. Even when we stabbed you with stakes, cursing you with fury and wrath for neglecting and abandoning us. When I begged you to not trap us for an eternity of suffering.

You loved us.

You loved me.

…

And I miss you so. I wish everyday that it didn't have to end the way it did.

Sancho opens her eyes, taking one last look at the stone. Muttering a goodbye before turning to take her leave. Perhaps, one day, she will be finally released from this world as well.

Chapter Text

"Hey- no, that didn't count! You saw me hit that target first!"

"Ah~ really? C'mon, I got to it first so it's a point to me."

Another shot fired, another shot missed- the two competing at the shooting range were exchanging bickers as they fired down the targets. After they rebuilt, the range was tweaked a little to compensate for the lack of staffing members for their old event, "Today, I'm this Area's Fixer". Outis had to come up with a few new ones afterward, and always got the others to help her test it out.

This was the usual case, at least. The few times a group of hunters wandered in was when the attraction became a little more than a recreational stage play.

Sancho and Gregor stood to the side keeping extra count for each, watching politely as they finished up another round.

"Lady Rodion has won this one again," comes from the Priest, Sancho nodding to his sentence after mentally tallying up the score. She didn't win by a landslide, but it was pretty close. Rodya cheers to her confirmed win, as Outis grumbles about how that shot taking her target was unfair.

"Aw, c'mon Outie! Don't look so down~ You only lost by like, two shots y'know?"

"One. If you didn't score my target I had already fired at, somehow."

She mutters something about double checking the attraction's state next time, considering that it wasn't that long ago she had to entertain a group of hunters wandering to her area. To say the least, they were part of the bloodbags roaming around the park now.

Gregor pats them both on the back, saying a few words of encouragement in hopes of calming the Barber down a little from her loss.

It was nice, in a way. Seeing everyone able to simply live with a bit of light in their eyes again, Sancho thinks. She gives a small smile to the trio, before Rodya speaks again.

"Oh! Greg, why don't you get a round in? I've never seen you partake in the range before after all~"

"Yes… that is true… even Lady Sancho has given it a shot before in the past…"

"Ha… you remember that time it misfired and it hit her in the f-"

Sancho interrupts that sentence with a flustered cough, glaring at Rodya who merely smiled innocently at her as if she wasn't about to recount the entire embarrassment of a story. Gregor seemed to consider it for a few moments, though with the other two ushering him already to pick up one of the guns- he reluctantly agrees.

The day continues on with the laughter and cheer in the range.

Chapter Text

Maybe a bit more chocolate…? Though she wasn't quite sure if they even had enough in stock to add more…

Blood worked fine over the stove, so surely it could work equally as ok in the oven right? They ran out of eggs a while ago from the last heist of… somewhere

Besides, maybe if she did figure out those blood infused muffins- that could be a completely different snacking food other than whatever leftover hemobars still exist. It wasn't really like she was going to be serving these to any humans anymore.

Sancho steps back from the kitchen counter laid out with her ingredients, humming in thought as she adjusts the old apron she managed to dig up from her belongings. It had everything she needed for this- some chocolate, a bit of salt, flour… and the blood pack, of course.

Though, blood would probably mess up the consistency… somehow, right? Yet it also worked completely fine the last time she tried that with pancakes. Even if those took a few tries to figure out the right amount to be added for the correct texture…

Maybe at this point she should just subsitude the egg needed with a random estimation in blood. The worst she gets is another oddly textured piece of filler food anyway.

And so she began, mixing up the dry ingredients before adding the concuction of wet ingredients in on top. Baking was one of those few hobbies she always enjoyed in her own time- it wasn't something she could do often, seeing her old role as the Manager of the former then rebuilt park; now the leader of sorts to her family. Having a small cooking space in her room was a good choice in the end.

Of course, again, the food never did much to satiate her hunger or thirst. But it was a fun activity to engage in nonetheless. Plus, the texture and taste of pastries did always feel pretty nice in her mouth.

Sancho quickly sets the batter into the prepared tray and cases, placing them to bake in the oven before dusting herself off and taking a seat in the chair nearby with a sigh. Now to just find some way to pass the time…

Chapter Text

It came with a knock on her door, late into the morning- Rodya was initially just dropping by to relay something important related to the park, considering Sancho was nowhere to be found elsewhere. What she didn't expect however, was the mess of a just awoken bloodfiend greeting her at the door.

It was… interesting? To see the difference in visual presentation of their Manager, usually seen in a rather pristine suit and carrying herself with an amount of elegance; now standng at the room's door looking exactly like someone who just rolled out of bed and quickly changed. (This did in fact happen as she later found out, it was surprisingly quick for someone who still seemed to be half asleep on greeting)

If anything else, Rodya didn't think her hair could even get that messy. Or maybe she's just used to seeing her when she doesn't look horribly disheaveled? Plus, this was a time a lot later than she'd think to consider the other being asleep. Sancho was usually one of the few up and around the earliest, the other being Outis. 

So to say this was a surprise was most definitely correct.

It took a minute for Sancho to rub the tiredness out of her eyes, giving Rodya a look to continue before nodding along to the information being passed to her. She really did try her best to process it, though she guessed maybe it was obvious she was struggling at the moment.

"Sancho, bae, respectfully- you look absolutely horrible. Ya want me to come back in an hour or something?"

Sancho doesn't react much to that statement, shaking her head as she stood back up straight from leaning slightly against the doorframe.

"No… no that won't be necessary- I shall get paper to write it down in a moment to look back at once I am feeling better."

"While standing at the door looking like you're about to collapse again any moment? C'mon, we can't have that happening- go back in and I'll write it down for ya."

Perhaps it was the inertia of waking up so recently, but Sancho doesn't protest against that. Stepping aside to let the other enter her room before quietly closing the door and moving to find a pen and a get a paper from her notebook. Rodya settles to linger next to her at the desk, watching. Her gaze moves to scanning whatever was on top of the desk. Mostly consisting of books, a few personal trinkets and not much else. Everything else seemed to have been neatly kept in the sliding drawer

"So, did you stay up or anything? It's not like you to have been asleep at this hour," 

Sancho pauses briefly, then places the pen and paper she just ripped from her notebook on the desk before looking away. 

"I… may have overslept," her reply comes quiet in embarrassment, met with laughter from her sister. Sancho mutters that it was just an unfortunate occurance that Rodya just happened to come by on a day it happened, but the other assures her that she isn't judging… not that harshly, anyway.

"Ahh, explains why ya look like a scruffy little stray~"

"Hey—"

Rodya gives a grin at the way Sancho whipped around to throw a glare at her, taking the writing tools and quickly scribbling down what she came to relay in the first place. Though, now that she was here- she couldn't leave their dearest Manager looking so… ruffled. It was rather cute in its own way, but they couldn't have her look so unelegant.

"Sancho, you got a hairbrush anywhere?" 

She slides the paper back over as she asks, Sancho pointing at the other drawer as she moves to pin the note to a small message board above her desk. It was fairly empty, save for a few other notes Rodya didn't bother to read fully from where she stood. Probably was just other personal reminders she didn't need to pry into anyway, despite her mild interest.

Rodya opens the drawer closer to her, moving aside some other items and picking the brush up. She moves over to behind Sancho, who proceeds to gives her a questioning glance.

"Don't mind if I brush your hair for you, yea? Can't have you walking out there later looking like this~"

"I am capable of doing it myself," Sancho retorts, seemingly mildly offended at the idea that she would go out in such a state. (In truth, she probably would if it called for it. But at the very least she'd fix her hair somewhat)

"Ah don't take it so seriously San, I'm just teasing ya! C'mon, let me do it since I'm already standing here. I'll be quick, 'kay? I'm sure you've got other things to attend to soon after all,"

Sancho sighs defeatedly after considering a moment, nodding to agree with a quick "fine," and taking a seat in the chair next to her. She's been standing too long, anyway. The dizziness was starting to kick in. Though she relaxes slightly once Rodya began. Maybe oversleeping this once wasn't that bad.

Chapter Text

It's bright. 

And then it's dark again.

And then it's bright again. Light shining through the window to her room. Yet the heaviness never seems to leave her body. Why? Why must she be trapped in this cycle now? It was hard to think. It was hard to move. The smallest of movements were painfully tiring, her body already stiff from the hours on hours of unwanted stillness. It should be easy- to simply do the very thing she's done repeatedly without issue before. Just get up from the bed, and it'll be fine.

And yet she couldn't.

She was dizzy, exhausted- she was severely thirsty— but walking to the fridge to tear into a blood pack was somehow the hardest thing in the world at that moment. It was hard to keep her eyes open. A sickly feeling in her parched mouth. How long had she been here? A whole day? Two days? No, if she was absent from park duties for that long someone would've probably broken into her room just to check on her. The family was under her care. And yet, the irony of currently being unable to even get out of her own bed was really something.

Her head hurt. 

She closes her eyes again.

The next time she woke up was to the knock at her door, getting increasingly louder as she drifted back into consciousness. Struggling to open her eyes once more. 

"Lady Sancho?"

A voice came from outside the door, followed by another few knocks.

"Your grace? Are you in there?"

It was the Priest. Another few knocks followed by silence. She wished she had the energy to reply- but she couldn't even get up these past… hours? What time was it?

Moving was so difficult.

She manages to shift, finally. After psyching herself up for it for a few minutes. Taking a deep breath as she hauls herself into a sitting position. Immediately, the splitting headache and dizziness take over- making her wince a bit from the pain. The knocks persisted, another call for her name in concern coming from the outside.

Her family was well aware of moments like this at least. It used to happen frequently, back when the rebellion was still a fresh memory in their minds. The bouts of sleepiness overwhelming her came less over time.

Yet in the cases it did flare back up, it was still equally as bad as before.

Sancho eventually manages to swing both legs over the side of the bed to plant her feet on the floor, shaking and weak. It felt like she was learning how to walk again. She supports herself with a hand on the wall, slowly making her way towards the door to at least unlock it. The door opens slowly and she backs away, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake herself up a little more. Gregor peeks into the room, Sancho giving him a nod in acknowledgement.

"Sleep issues again I'm assuming, your grace?"

His relieved sigh that nothing worse had happened came first; then the question in a gentle tone, and she nods once more. She wishes she could say something, to not look so… blatantly exhausted. But things have been stressful as of late. The world felt a little more bleak than it usually already does. Just the idea of even opening her mouth was tiring.

She gestures kind of vaguely to let the other in, shuffling towards the fridge to get a pack for her thirst as the Priest entered and settled on the side. Her movements were rough, stiff. Gregor headed over to help her with the blood pack after noting how she struggled a bit with it. She collapses onto a chair and sighs heavily as the blood finally wets her throat. And for a moment, it felt like she wasn't just struggling to stand just now. Like the invisible weights have just suddenly been lifted from her body.

Sancho channels all her scattered bits of focus onto the movements of drinking from the pack. The rest of the time in between her sips was spent staring down at the table in front of her, desperately just trying to muster any amount of alertness. 

This period of hardship will pass. It always did. It was still going to be possibly a while of this song and dance, but it will go away on its own. She just had to hold out until then.

Sancho never noticed Gregor taking a seat by the table until he suddenly spoke once more.

"I shall… let Lady Rodion and Outis know so we may help with your work as needed, if that is alright."

"Yes," her voice was hoarse and almost akin to a mumble. Sancho clears her throat before repeating her words.

"That will be appreciated… how long… how long have I been asleep?"

"It's currently about 4 in the afternoon, about 20 minutes to 5."

18 hours. She had been drifting in and out of an unrestful, torturous sleep for 18 hours. Sancho lets out another heavy sigh, trying to unruffle her messy and tangled hair with her free hand. Taking another big sip from the bag.

She felt… slightly better. The throbbing headache was still present and not doing her any favors, but the blood was definitely helping a bit. Even if it only temporarily helped alleviate her hunger. That, and the fact she was at least sitting up made being awake a little less painful. 

Gregor merely watches her quietly, adjusting his glasses as Sancho finishes her drink.

"Lady Rodion was attempting to find you today," he begins again as Sancho crumples the bag idly. "She was thinking of inviting you to spend some time together, if you would like to take her up on the offer."

In truth, despite how painful it was- she wanted to go back to sleep. Everything happening as of late has been rough, and that was just the easy choice.

Though of course, that was not truly her only want right now. Spending time with her family sounded alright. Besides, she was getting tired of breathing the same air only circulating in her room at this point. Fresh air would be doing her good, even if not by much.

"Is it still-?" 

It had been about 8 hours or so since her usual wake up time, after all.

"Though she has been searching for the entire day- I'm sure she will be understanding about your current state and will happily still have an open invitation."

Sancho considers, before she tosses the empty pack into the trash from her seat and standing back up. It was best she went now, before she had the time to change her mind and possibly give in to the drowiness again. She had been so tired last night, she didn't really change out of her usual clothes anyway. 

Gregor gets up as well, pushing the chairs in before following behind Sancho as she made her way toward the door. Once again she tried to make herself look at least presentable; adjusting her suit, untangling her hair…

She pauses at the door for a moment like she has forgotten something, looking back slightly at the Priest.

"Thank you for dropping by,"

He nods, expression mostly unchanged. 

"Of course, your grace. If you require assistance, I shall… always be here,"

She scans his face for a bit, and he clears his throat with an awkward smile.

"I… I promise I am not merely saying that as a stock phrase, despite my old duties."

Good enough for now. Sancho gives a weak smile back, before finally walking out the door.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Outie, any chances ya capable of teaching me some sewing?"

… huh?

Outis immediately pauses in the middle of her action, not even attempting to hide her mild surprise at the sudden question as she turns her attention over. Rodya tilts her head with a friendly smile from her seat, gaze lingering a little longer.

"I mean, it's probably similar to the crocheting Greg does in his free time right?"

"What— what's prompting this so suddenly if I may ask, your grace? I… merely didn't think you'd consider sewing, is all."

It wasn't necessarily that Outis didn't want to teach Rodya— more so it was so sudden, she wasn't actually sure how to feel about it for some reason. Shouldn't she be flattered in some way? Besides, she's not the Barber for nothing. Of course she was the best person to be asking! That, and Rodya always did seem to want to leave small tasks like that to her or the Priest.

"I dunno, maybe I wanna get a different hobby other than just reading? We only have so many books that didn't get destroyed when a stray hunter got through," she brings a finger to her chin in thought.

"Tried gettin San to teach me baking too. Didn't work out too well. So I figured you could teach me how to do those designs on your outfits! And I mean, I can't just keep bothering you to properly fix tiny little patches in my dress all the time, right? Ya probably got other things to be doing after all~"

Outis casts her gaze back to her current project, quickly finishing up the sew she was startled out of and setting the needle back into its cushion.

"I… do not mind mending your clothing as needed, your grace," she eventually states, dragging the paper with her current project's draft sketched out closer to her. "Any issues regarding outfits will always be in my utmost priority, even if I am busy."

Rodya replies to that with a small huff, crossing her arms as Outis glances up at her once more.

"C'mon! Ya got other outfits you wanna be making, dontcha? Not like you only exist to fix clothes, Outie. Feels a little like you just don't want to teach me or something, I thought you'd be all proud about it when I asked! It's not like I'm tryna steal your thing."

That… wasn't necessarily wrong; if anything it was a very correct assumption. Outis always held her title with a known sense of pride. It was her who made all of those costumes for the Parade, her who made sure everyone was looking their absolute best with no room for error. She was the best at her job, and the only one who could be doing it.

Yet Outis honestly didn't know what she was feeling in that moment. After her last chat with Gregor late into the night, she's begun to feel a little conflicted about her work. Tailoring was the only thing she was known for, after all. If she wasn't perfect at her job, or maybe if the park no longer needed her skills somehow— what was she going to do? Would her family still care for her?

Still, that wasn't something she wanted to be acknowledging in full right now.

The Barber clears her throat, quickly waving a dismissive hand at that statement.

"Of course that isn't the case! I will glady guide you in it if you'd like to learn, I was merely caught up in some… unimportant thoughts. Just know that your and Lady Sancho's issues always have my priority,"

Rodya gives a somewhat doubtful hum in turn, though doesn't push any further than that. Quickly returning to her friendly smile and clapping her hands together.

"Great! We can start after you're done with your current project, then!"

"Ah- well, I'm capable of continuing it after—"

"Nope! I wanna keep watching you work on it. Like, how'd ya figure out how to make everything so it forms a whole dress and all of that?"

Outis sighs, rubbing the back of her neck as she was asked more questions afterward. It wasn't a bad feeling though, she guessed. Suddenly being given attention to something she used to have a stronger passion for. Of course, not to say that it didn't remain equally as strong- just that it felt more of an obligation after the initial opening of the park. 

Nobody really cared as much for her area, or had actual interest in her work anyway right?

But, well. What was she to do about that anyway? 

Let's not think about all of that for now.

Outis eventually answers the rather enthusiastic questioning with her usual smile, threading a new needle and continues her work as she did.

Chapter Text

"Welcome! To Area 1's main attraction— 'Fantasy Blood - Shooting Range! Children, be sure to stay by your parents' side for this!"

Ah… it was still so… odd. Hearing her voice from a time she believed more in the park. It was almost always surprising to hear that old recording beginning up again whenever a group of hunters came looking for her, even though this wasn't anywhere near her first time with this.

Outis currently watches them from her booth away from front stage. Chin rested on her hand, her other drumming her nails on her desk as the hunters all began to chatter amongst themselves.

"'And for a short time only, please do consider visiting the 'Fashinista Show' attraction or purchasing a mask from the Boutique. Run only by the loveliest of our friendly Bloodfiends!"

The grainy, old recordings continue. The group already a mix of agitated and confused at the sound of it. They were here for one reason alone; to seek her and the other Overseers' deaths and eradicate the park they rebuilt.

Too bad it was her territory, this time. Many have tried and failed to take her on, and over the years the Family has been feeding quite well. She could just kill them right there and then, really. 

But where's the fun in letting them join the ranks of the Bloodbags or the bodies under the dirt so quickly?

"With that out of way, it's time to begin the attraction! And for today's big even—"

"Mm… how childish- isn't it?"

Outis adjusts the microphone with a small smirk as the recordings cut out. Letting her voice come clear through the speakers whilst the hunters flinch from the feedback. The lights flicker off, and a spotlight shone onto the stage.

"Since you disgraceful things have enough honor to visit, let's recount a story instead, hm?"

She could see some of them gripping their weapons tighter, some already cursing her out. How insolent.

"Long, long ago- who knows when, really. There was a time where Humans and Bloodfiends weren't as friendly as they are today…"

The cardboard pop outs that bring a little variety to the attraction appear, the soft whirs of the machinery activating as they moved. Setting the stage proper with decorative background objects. Most of the hunters seemed uninterested as always, though a few were curious to see where this was going.

"On sight with one another, the two sides would clash and fight- the Bloodfiends mercilessly slaughtering all they came across, and the Humans returning their bloodlust with fury and wrath of their own…"

Another few cardboard props move in- first the human, equipped with a sword. Next, the fiend drawn cartoonishly evil looking enters stage. 

"Oh?"

The fiend's cutout moves closer to the human's.

"It looks like a scary Bloodfiend is about to attack our friend here… whatever shall we do?"

Silence comes, as she expects. Most hunters weren't the most enthusiastic to be playing this game with her- not like any of them had a choice in the matter, anyway.

She clears her throat into the microphone, beginning to repeat the question when one of the hunters suddenly pipes up in a cheerful voice.

"Ah, I know~ We should punish it for even daring to attack, like the dirty rat it is!"

"Correct," Outis hesitantly introjects after an answer was given. She's had her eye on that one who just spoke for a bit since the group entered the attraction. Something about the way he was so unbothered, maybe? He carried himself lightly, despite the size of his weapon. Though that train ofthought is cut short by the groaning of the many, shambling Bloodbags beginning to fill the room.

"Well! A chance for you hunters to punish some of us evil fiends has appeared, isn't that just so nice?"

The hunters stance for their battle.

Watching them fight… it was always rather interesting in its own way. The Fanghunt office was one she was somewhat familiar with, identifiable by their unsighly large mallets and their all black uniform dotted with diamond like markings. There were a few from that office in the group, mixed in with others she didn't really bother to identify. The hunter that's caught her interest was from the Fanghunt office.

She couldn't see it quite well from where she was situated, but she had most definitely noticed the striking jade color of his left eye. Most humans didn't come with two eye colors, and the shade of it felt… different to a regular case of heterochromia she guessed. And the way he fought was oddly graceful in comparison to his companions.

The last of the Bloodbags go down, and she takes up the microphone once more. Giving little time to the pre recorded voice playing from the speakers.

The scene shifts as the hunters recover from battle, now showing the Human and Bloodfiend shaking hands with a joyful background.

"With that done, you've successfully driven all the scary, bad Bloodfiends below the earth- leaving only the righteous and kind on the surface. Making a promise with the humans that they shall never drink again, because well. What could be better than peace?"

She notices that hunter's smile again.

"But, ah- such things could not last, the bad and evil Bloodfiends are clawing their way back up again! Seeking to drink the humans' blood!"

The spotline shines on the cutout group of fiends emerging from below the happy little peace treaty pair above them, as more Bloodbags shamble toward the hunters. She watches them intently, especially how that jade eyed hunter moved and fought with such an air of almost whimsy to him. She knew most of them found sick pleasure in killing her kind— a hatred that could only fester within those people. No matter how nice a fiend was, all were evil in the eyes of the hunters.

La Manchaland's story had spread far and lasted over the years, after all. There was no redemption for what they did. Not even they could forgive themselves.

Outis continues as the last few Bloodbags were in the process of being cleaned up, the scene changing once more as she narrated.

"Our dear Humans grew terrified of those bad, scary Bloodfiends. Afraid that they'll come back again to attack them. Ah, so afraid in fact- they didn't know what to do!

But then, a Fixer most righteous and just comes up with an ingenius idea!"

The spotline shines once more, all focus now on the lone cutout of their former Father. 

"What if," she starts. Pausing briefly just for that added dramatic effect. "Truly, what if— perhaps we could create a space where Humans and Bloodfiends could peacefully coexist? A place where the kindly Bloodfiends could protect the Humans from the evil and scary ones. A place where there humans could share their blood voluntarily with the kind Bloodfiends."

"But that was all just impossible in the end, wasn't it?" the jade eyed hunter pipes up once more. His voice was still oddly cheery, yet his words had an almost spiteful undertone to it. 

"It's all just a wishful tale. There's no real way for Bloodfiends and Humans to possibly coexist after all~ Not when their very nature is evil."

"Of course, it's only fair that such a grand, idealised concept would be met with much resistance, but a leader always has capable and supportive followers to help realise those ambitions," Outis continues. A second light illuminating the simplified cutout recreational of La Manchaland.

"And thus came the creation of La Manchaland! A place where your joy can bloom, a place where dreams can prospher!"

She could tell the group was getting tired of this story. Everyone except for that singular person, at least. Who listened to the tale with little to no reactions. Responding to her when an opportunity arose. And now, still stands with that carefree smile whilst covered in splattered blood.

He was certainly one of the most interesting hunters to have come by so far.

And it was about time the story came to a close as well. 

The scene shifts for one last time— the light shines down on their Father's cutout, standing proud and tall. And the rest of the fiends below him, drawn anguished and in sorrow.

"Yet joy can only last so long, and dreams are naught but the ideal. Nothing in this world could ever last long like that, couldn't it? The righteous and just Fixer, in his chase for his dreams— dragged the ones who helped so readily through the mud…

But, ah… I'm sure you know how this story ends. Our tale has been recorded in history for you hunters, after all."

The lights flicker a few times, returning in full after a moment- and the Barber finally makes her entrance on stage. Scissors rested on her shoulder, her masked donned. She gives an unseen grin as she walked, coming to a stop a distance away and staring down the hunters worn down from their battles. Despite the burning anger in their eyes, she knew they respected her power. As such, all of them had almost a twinge of uncertainty to them.

All except that single, damned Fanghunt fixer.

"I do remember hearing the story~" he hums, non chalantly bringing a hand up in thought. "Don't all the Children rebel and stake him in the end?"

"Indeed, they did." Outis confirms, manipulating the spilled blood from the field as they conversed. "That land of dreams he so desperately desired… it was nothing more than a living nightmare for us in the end. We were all foolish to think that ideal was ever achievable."

"It was all bound to fail in the end, after all~" he grins brighter, shaking some blood off his weapon and taking a few steps forward in front of the slightly stunned group.

"You Bloodfiends are truly evil by nature, and you can't do anything to change it. No matter what you do. You'll be nothing more than just monsters, bound by your yearning no matter how much you drink."

The Barber scoffs, then laughs. And yet does not even attempt to retort those statements. There was truth to it, after all. They could never be more than just Bloodfiends. Nothing more than some beasts tied down by their sickness.

Just another group of pests.

Outis gives her weapon a quick flourish as she stands on the defensive. Preparing for the first move.

"Enough talk. Let's get this over with. I can't stand the sight of your hideous outfits infringing on my turf any longer. Come here and I'll cut and sew you back up into something better fitting!"

Chapter Text

Lights.

Music.

The Children all dancing merrily, twirling and laughing together in a beautiful Parade.

And of course, as its Princess- all this rightful attention was hers.

It was beautiful, the fireworks in the sky. The gushing crimson of the slaughtered humans, pouring out onto the stone beneath their feet. Cheer and smiles as her Children fed to their hearts content. She could never ask for anything more than this. 

This was her Parade, after all. Her eternally, blessed Carnival of dreams; happiness.

O Father, do you see? The happiness freed of your delusions?

It was just better this way.

Chapter Text

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Once more, Gregor opens his eyes. Laying sleepless on the bed.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The idle sound of the clock resounding so loudly in the dead silence of his room, only being covered by the faint early morning birdsong. He's been laying down here for far too long, having gotten up multiple times in an attempt to fall asleep again throughout the night. Staring out the window, reading by the desk… none of it worked this time around. 

The tiredness was weighing him down, and yet it almost felt like his body just forgot how to sleep. Darkness had given way to the barest amount of light outside, and Gregor sits up with a resigned sigh.

Ah, well. He supposed taking a morning walk wouldn't hurt. It's not like he's been making or ever going to make any progress by laying here, tossing and turning endlessly.

Rubbing his eyes and reaching for the glasses on the bedside table, Gregor yawns with a stretch as he stands up and makes his way to prepare for his stroll. Worst case, he'll probably just take a nap or something later. 

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, the park grounds bathed in the dim glow of the rising sun. It wasn't all too bad; the air was cool and fresh for one, and the silence of the park was rather peaceful. Gregor begins to wander, taking in the morning air as he strolled. 

There wasn't much of interest when he took these walks. Just the empty grounds, long before all of the lamps and sign lights for the attractions would be turned on in the darkness of night. Maybe a stray Bloodbag shambling about at best. Overall it was about as peaceful as one could expect.

Gregor finds himself wandering toward the ferris wheel- towering tall as the centerpiece of the park. It hadn't seen use in at least a decade, and the visible wear on it reflected that. Still, though- it was a very nice attraction. And he still finds himself gazing up at its sheer marvel in awe occasionally.

He notes someone in the area after a moment. Sitting on a bench not too far from the path toward the large ride. And upon getting closer, he instantly recognises the shade of striking red on their clothes. Gregor finds himself approaching. Perhaps just mainly out of curiosity, considering it was quite surprising to see the Barber up at this hour.

She was an early riser, but he wouldn't quite consider the dawn of roughly late 6am to be her usual hour of waking.

As he got closer, the Barber did not react in any way. And upon inspection, she had her eyes closed. Resting her head on a hand, taking a light doze. Gregor wanders closer, staring a few moments before he clears his throat in an attempt to awaken the other.

The Barber flinches awake with a groan, rubbing her eyes and looking around. Sighing as she notices that its just the Priest standing by her.

"You're certainly up early," Gregor speaks first, shifting back slightly as Outis rubs the brief sleep out of her eyes.

"Is that so odd? I'd say it's more surprising to see you awake at this hour."

Gregor blinks, eventually giving her a shrug as she looks back at him with poorly hidden exhaustion. He noted it almost immediately in her face, the darkened circles underneath her eyes. He awkwardly takes a seat on the other end of the bench, Outis moving further into her side slightly to give him more space. Her gaze lingering on him for a few more seconds before she turns away. Gregor wonders a bit if maybe he had something similar, but disregards the thought for now.

"I was merely taking a walk to enjoy the fresh morning air, is all. And I assume the same is for you?"

"Mm…"

The Barber stifles a yawn, muttering a quiet "perhaps," in reply. He knew she wouldn't really admit she most likely had troubles with sleep as well. But that wasn't important to be bringing up, anyway.

"I, personally, was taking a break from my work, is all." Outis eventually says. Leaning back slightly against the bench, another tired sigh escaping her lips.

"On another block?" Gregor inquires, to which Outis gives a quick "mhm" in confirmation. She doesn't elaborate further, closing her eyes once more to the quiet ambience of rustling leaves.

Gregor watches her, then diverts his gaze forward toward the sky. Leaning back as well, silently, as he stared up into the soft blue above. They both knew they were just here because neither could sleep, but for now they both remained seated a while longer in silence.

The Priest remains still a few beats longer, before he shifts around a little. Outis tilting her head slightly in curiosity. Quickly going back to attempting to at least rest comfortably. Gregor digs into his pocket, fishing out a granola bar and begins to fiddle with the plastic. The Barber looks over again, quietly eyeing the snack as if contemplating something.

"… Would you-?"

"No."

"I didn't even… well, I carry extras, if that's what you're worried about. Lady Rodion has seemed to have made a habit of getting one from me occasionally."

Outis can't help but at least chuckle to that, amused. Though whether it was because she was near dead exhausted that she let herself laugh at it. She didn't know.

"And who said I was worried about taking your filler?" she gives him a small side eyeing smile, waving her hand dramatically in a dismissive manner.

"But, fine. I'll take one. If you are offering oh, so kindly."

Gregor rolls his eyes in turn with an equally as amused grin. Handing the Barber a bar for herself before opting to just get his open by holding the plastic edge with his teeth, using his left to gently tear it open before chewing on his snack. It was mildly sweet, a few bits of dried fruit in between the roasted grains held together by honey. This wasn't going to do anything for the growing thirst, but it was nice to chew on.

Outis absentmindedly begins eating at her bar, looking down at it in between bites. In a way, it felt a little nostalgic. From her time as a human. It made her miss it a little. But she didn't want to be thinking about that right now. Not that she even could be thinking about it, considering how blatantly exhausted she was. And that she ate through her snack surprisingly quickly.

She stretches after crumpling the plastic in her hands, keeping it in her hold as she relaxes against the bench once more. Gregor slowly finishes up his snack, opting to do the same as Outis for now after stuffing the wrapper into his other pocket.

The pair continues to sit quietly in their own corners, enjoying the early dawn.