Categories > Games > Castlevania > The Seeds We've Sown
The Seeds we've sown
Chapter 4
Till Overflowing
Three months of debasement and degradation (AKA job hunting) but she'd found a steady job that sorta linked up to her education. A job, a new place to live, and while it was a step down it had its perks.
And one of those perks was wafting up from under her door. Saturating the very air with its presence and smelled wonderfully of...
"Bacon's done, God Ciss, hurry up and get your ass down here 'fore the chow get's cold!"
Tossing off the blue comforter she braved the faux wooden floors that morning. And like all the other spurts of bravery was rewarded with the same old revelation. The floor was freezing. Never mind, it made her run faster, search harder, and find her pair of pink fluffy slippers quicker. Sheathing her feet, she was now properly braced to meet the day.
So meet it she did, with a shuffle and a yawn, tying up her loose bathrobe all the while.
Despite her gender, she didn't indulge much in the stereotype beyond her slippers. Her robe was not a fuzzy atrocity of pink, making her a walking advertisement for stomach soother. Rather it was a cool forest green that hung and clung depending on the breeze and how tight the belt was.
Steel clapped against steel, in her eternal impatience Claudia's roommate Clarice was clapping pots together. The neighbors were going to complain, again. Stupid paper thin walls and bi-ped elephants for roommates they had plenty to complain about. But that's what you got when you lived on the second story apartment when you had a roommate with the tack of a bore and an eternal "I'm late" complex…
And as if aware she was nearly breaking the trend…
"I gotta get to work! Chows on the stove! Eat or it'll crisp! I'm (insert unsurprise here) late!" Cassini's tossed the much abused irony into the nearest non cooking surface. Hopefully it would be the sink this time, and not the open fridge like last. Footsteps at a staggering run, a slammed door and... Wait for it.
Tires screaming, scraping up gravel and with a heart stopping roar her co-inhabitant had shifted from park to drive, reverse, than drive again, and was gone. No concern for the pedestrian in her manner at all.
All was well with the world.
Except for Cassini's boss, but that was a given.
Smiling, glad it was her day off Claudia Belmont shook her head at her roommates foibles and went off to save breakfast, again.
Heaven help them both if she got sick, then the whole house would be "crisping" quite nicely.
While odd, Cassini wasn't unhinged. Had she been at her old job, well she wasn't, so no rooms for excitable (going for a "whatever" degree) roommates didn't have to be booked. And, considering her past experience, if it wasn't unhinged it was livable.
Sorta.
Sometimes.
But only if breakfast wasn't a total toss.
The hall was bypassed, its evil asymmetrical geometric messes called rugs were not tripped over –a wonder of wonders- and journey done she was in the kitchen. A small walk in, white tiled with white walls, white stoves tops, and white counters (to better encourage the cleaning mania or so the installer hopped) bored her out of her mind. So she pulled out the yellowish mayo, the brown wheat bread, and set to adding a bit of color to the mess. A quick flip of the switch and the toast was on its way to toasting, the crumbs dropped added a spot of color she was loath to brush away.
So she didn't
It was when she was bent over double, seeking out the elusive tomato that it happened.
Thoughts filled with mundanely till they surely overflowed…
Claudia Belmont wasn't one for breakfast. Breakfast foods were like sunrises, they didn't inspire, so they were ignored, slept through, and replaced with a more sensible lunch. She'd skip the lettuce, scrapped some charring bacon off the plate, and call it BLT anyways… A pop, she half rose to the toast's call. But the want of a tomato made her hunch under again. It was the knock that undid her. Caused her to pop. She smacked the back of her head into the fridge's chilled ceiling and wiggled back and up.
"Ouch… Son of a…"
Knock knock…
A throwback from childhood long spent…
Who's there?
She opened the door, they were all adults here, whoever was on the other side could just deal… So she pulled open the door, and gapped. Gap became glower as he smirked up at her. Familiar eyes, familiar face, she'd spent forever trying to blot him from her mind after all.
Leaning against the frame long limbs stretched, longer fingers twiddling, his wave went for shy and failed. It was those eyes that gave it away, gave the game up. They were never shy, ever shining.
"Miss me?"
"No."
And with that she slammed the door in his face.
He managed to look hurt, before impact, than was hurt as the wood smacked into his long nose.
"Son of a… Seriously Belmont, if you're going to kill me use the damned whip!"
Which was split thrice, save he didn't know. Couldn't know. She'd never told him.
And like all those times before.
"Unless you haven't gotten around to mending it ye-"
She took a quick trip, snapped up two things and at journey's end ripped open the door a final time. Cooking knife in one hand, family remnants in the other, he backed up at her coming. Even with one hand nursing a tender nose he managed to look intimidated.
"Here, take it, get out."
She threw the whip at him, he managed a fumbled the catch.
Another slam, a thud (his head this time, hopefully it'd give the man an improvement to his overall condition) and it was done. She was done. Done with him, just like her good mood was done. Do one good deed (slightly shady, but still good at its heart) and this was what she got? Next time she'd let the little old lady cross the street on her own, kick the nearest dog, and cheat on her taxes for good measure.
"Wah… I can't… It burns, god damn it Belmont, it bloody burns!"
"Say I'm melting, I'll buy that first!" She hollered over her shoulder. "You've got five minutes before I call the cops on you… you…"
Life wrecking, asinine, creepy, psychopath, with a reaper complex…
She meant to say that. Would have said that. Save the smell, something was burning, and it wasn't the bacon.
She staggered to the door, opened it, and stopped believing in sanity at the sight before her. He was holding the whip, had caught it because of some damned masochistic instinct she supposed. And his hands... Where the threads of the damaged whip hung he was smoking. Honest to god, he was leaking black smoke, withering, smoldering, where that (not so) ordinary piece of leather hung.
"God."
She moved before thought, pealed it off, risked her own hands by wrapping as much as she could about her own before pulling the whole up and off. That way none of it could fall and hurt him further. Throwing the whole aside, some fumbling required, she dragged him in. The couch, closest, cleanest (sorta) she eased him down and down he went with a grunt, whole hand nursing the burnt.
Inane as it was. "Are you alright?"
So much for leaving that good person complex behind, she'd have to pick a new resolution next year.
"Fine… fine… No, NO!" She froze, halfway between him and the phone imbedded on the wall, shocked by the sheer volume of his denial. "No," the denial was calmer now, ending in a gasp. "Don't call the medics, one stint in loony central's enough..." He hissed, no throw back to reptilian inclination this time, this was pure pain. "'S'heal'in' on its'own…"
And though he shuddered, and was pale, and possibly insane one glance back showed her impossibility and her sanity was further unhinged at the sight.
Though deep and ugly (and leaking black fluid this time, a step up from smoke but awful besides) his wounds were healing. No longer did she imagine she could peak at the redish-white of exposed bones. A glance away when she considered fetching ice and what she could wrap it in and a look back revealed that he was healing. Hellishly fast. The "gapping" wounds had become deep red bars that, under even her skeptical eyes, were puffing out, towards scardom.
Sick, she swallowed, trying not to puke. For sanitations sake, she looked away, even as he sighed with relief. A creak indicated he'd leaned back. One peak showed that he'd stretched both unblemished hands before him. Canting one eye up, he watched her, even as he went about rolling the pasty wrists back and forth. One finger wiggle and he set both hands in his lap, turning to face her in full.
As for Claudia Belmont, she stood, frozen between the phone and him, movement the furthest thought from her mind.
She'd seen a miracle, a wonder…
"Bloody hell woman, no one tell you about that damned whip? Its plague, and fire, and madness, and worse than all of that to my kind. It was consecrated when that sort of thing actually meant something…"
From the hands of a self-proclaimed devil no less
Seeing she was gone, and more than gone, he flashed her a smile, no glass between them to dull the yellow of his baring. "You alright there, Belmont?"
"F...fine.. what.. what do you want?" She stiffened, go some of the steel and stiff back to her posture. She'd… seen things… that's all. Seen things, a minor hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and stress more likely than not. Delusion affirmed she glowered down at him, even as he grinned up at her.
"Would you believe me if I asked for a cup of sugar?"
"No."
"Damn and I had some killer brownies I was gunna make to. Housewarming gift you know, welcoming myself to the neighborhood and all that…"
She groaned, just had to. And this devil, the Devil's supposed right, he just laughed.
Chapter 4
Till Overflowing
Three months of debasement and degradation (AKA job hunting) but she'd found a steady job that sorta linked up to her education. A job, a new place to live, and while it was a step down it had its perks.
And one of those perks was wafting up from under her door. Saturating the very air with its presence and smelled wonderfully of...
"Bacon's done, God Ciss, hurry up and get your ass down here 'fore the chow get's cold!"
Tossing off the blue comforter she braved the faux wooden floors that morning. And like all the other spurts of bravery was rewarded with the same old revelation. The floor was freezing. Never mind, it made her run faster, search harder, and find her pair of pink fluffy slippers quicker. Sheathing her feet, she was now properly braced to meet the day.
So meet it she did, with a shuffle and a yawn, tying up her loose bathrobe all the while.
Despite her gender, she didn't indulge much in the stereotype beyond her slippers. Her robe was not a fuzzy atrocity of pink, making her a walking advertisement for stomach soother. Rather it was a cool forest green that hung and clung depending on the breeze and how tight the belt was.
Steel clapped against steel, in her eternal impatience Claudia's roommate Clarice was clapping pots together. The neighbors were going to complain, again. Stupid paper thin walls and bi-ped elephants for roommates they had plenty to complain about. But that's what you got when you lived on the second story apartment when you had a roommate with the tack of a bore and an eternal "I'm late" complex…
And as if aware she was nearly breaking the trend…
"I gotta get to work! Chows on the stove! Eat or it'll crisp! I'm (insert unsurprise here) late!" Cassini's tossed the much abused irony into the nearest non cooking surface. Hopefully it would be the sink this time, and not the open fridge like last. Footsteps at a staggering run, a slammed door and... Wait for it.
Tires screaming, scraping up gravel and with a heart stopping roar her co-inhabitant had shifted from park to drive, reverse, than drive again, and was gone. No concern for the pedestrian in her manner at all.
All was well with the world.
Except for Cassini's boss, but that was a given.
Smiling, glad it was her day off Claudia Belmont shook her head at her roommates foibles and went off to save breakfast, again.
Heaven help them both if she got sick, then the whole house would be "crisping" quite nicely.
While odd, Cassini wasn't unhinged. Had she been at her old job, well she wasn't, so no rooms for excitable (going for a "whatever" degree) roommates didn't have to be booked. And, considering her past experience, if it wasn't unhinged it was livable.
Sorta.
Sometimes.
But only if breakfast wasn't a total toss.
The hall was bypassed, its evil asymmetrical geometric messes called rugs were not tripped over –a wonder of wonders- and journey done she was in the kitchen. A small walk in, white tiled with white walls, white stoves tops, and white counters (to better encourage the cleaning mania or so the installer hopped) bored her out of her mind. So she pulled out the yellowish mayo, the brown wheat bread, and set to adding a bit of color to the mess. A quick flip of the switch and the toast was on its way to toasting, the crumbs dropped added a spot of color she was loath to brush away.
So she didn't
It was when she was bent over double, seeking out the elusive tomato that it happened.
Thoughts filled with mundanely till they surely overflowed…
Claudia Belmont wasn't one for breakfast. Breakfast foods were like sunrises, they didn't inspire, so they were ignored, slept through, and replaced with a more sensible lunch. She'd skip the lettuce, scrapped some charring bacon off the plate, and call it BLT anyways… A pop, she half rose to the toast's call. But the want of a tomato made her hunch under again. It was the knock that undid her. Caused her to pop. She smacked the back of her head into the fridge's chilled ceiling and wiggled back and up.
"Ouch… Son of a…"
Knock knock…
A throwback from childhood long spent…
Who's there?
She opened the door, they were all adults here, whoever was on the other side could just deal… So she pulled open the door, and gapped. Gap became glower as he smirked up at her. Familiar eyes, familiar face, she'd spent forever trying to blot him from her mind after all.
Leaning against the frame long limbs stretched, longer fingers twiddling, his wave went for shy and failed. It was those eyes that gave it away, gave the game up. They were never shy, ever shining.
"Miss me?"
"No."
And with that she slammed the door in his face.
He managed to look hurt, before impact, than was hurt as the wood smacked into his long nose.
"Son of a… Seriously Belmont, if you're going to kill me use the damned whip!"
Which was split thrice, save he didn't know. Couldn't know. She'd never told him.
And like all those times before.
"Unless you haven't gotten around to mending it ye-"
She took a quick trip, snapped up two things and at journey's end ripped open the door a final time. Cooking knife in one hand, family remnants in the other, he backed up at her coming. Even with one hand nursing a tender nose he managed to look intimidated.
"Here, take it, get out."
She threw the whip at him, he managed a fumbled the catch.
Another slam, a thud (his head this time, hopefully it'd give the man an improvement to his overall condition) and it was done. She was done. Done with him, just like her good mood was done. Do one good deed (slightly shady, but still good at its heart) and this was what she got? Next time she'd let the little old lady cross the street on her own, kick the nearest dog, and cheat on her taxes for good measure.
"Wah… I can't… It burns, god damn it Belmont, it bloody burns!"
"Say I'm melting, I'll buy that first!" She hollered over her shoulder. "You've got five minutes before I call the cops on you… you…"
Life wrecking, asinine, creepy, psychopath, with a reaper complex…
She meant to say that. Would have said that. Save the smell, something was burning, and it wasn't the bacon.
She staggered to the door, opened it, and stopped believing in sanity at the sight before her. He was holding the whip, had caught it because of some damned masochistic instinct she supposed. And his hands... Where the threads of the damaged whip hung he was smoking. Honest to god, he was leaking black smoke, withering, smoldering, where that (not so) ordinary piece of leather hung.
"God."
She moved before thought, pealed it off, risked her own hands by wrapping as much as she could about her own before pulling the whole up and off. That way none of it could fall and hurt him further. Throwing the whole aside, some fumbling required, she dragged him in. The couch, closest, cleanest (sorta) she eased him down and down he went with a grunt, whole hand nursing the burnt.
Inane as it was. "Are you alright?"
So much for leaving that good person complex behind, she'd have to pick a new resolution next year.
"Fine… fine… No, NO!" She froze, halfway between him and the phone imbedded on the wall, shocked by the sheer volume of his denial. "No," the denial was calmer now, ending in a gasp. "Don't call the medics, one stint in loony central's enough..." He hissed, no throw back to reptilian inclination this time, this was pure pain. "'S'heal'in' on its'own…"
And though he shuddered, and was pale, and possibly insane one glance back showed her impossibility and her sanity was further unhinged at the sight.
Though deep and ugly (and leaking black fluid this time, a step up from smoke but awful besides) his wounds were healing. No longer did she imagine she could peak at the redish-white of exposed bones. A glance away when she considered fetching ice and what she could wrap it in and a look back revealed that he was healing. Hellishly fast. The "gapping" wounds had become deep red bars that, under even her skeptical eyes, were puffing out, towards scardom.
Sick, she swallowed, trying not to puke. For sanitations sake, she looked away, even as he sighed with relief. A creak indicated he'd leaned back. One peak showed that he'd stretched both unblemished hands before him. Canting one eye up, he watched her, even as he went about rolling the pasty wrists back and forth. One finger wiggle and he set both hands in his lap, turning to face her in full.
As for Claudia Belmont, she stood, frozen between the phone and him, movement the furthest thought from her mind.
She'd seen a miracle, a wonder…
"Bloody hell woman, no one tell you about that damned whip? Its plague, and fire, and madness, and worse than all of that to my kind. It was consecrated when that sort of thing actually meant something…"
From the hands of a self-proclaimed devil no less
Seeing she was gone, and more than gone, he flashed her a smile, no glass between them to dull the yellow of his baring. "You alright there, Belmont?"
"F...fine.. what.. what do you want?" She stiffened, go some of the steel and stiff back to her posture. She'd… seen things… that's all. Seen things, a minor hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and stress more likely than not. Delusion affirmed she glowered down at him, even as he grinned up at her.
"Would you believe me if I asked for a cup of sugar?"
"No."
"Damn and I had some killer brownies I was gunna make to. Housewarming gift you know, welcoming myself to the neighborhood and all that…"
She groaned, just had to. And this devil, the Devil's supposed right, he just laughed.
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