—- † —-
The plink of coin into the donation box was a familiar sound to the Vicar, and the echo of silver on silver easily carried down the empty halls of the Cathedral. Altered ears picked up the noise, Amelia’s hearing rendered sensitive by the Scourge. A weight of confusion formed in the pit of her stomach– no one was supposed to be in the Cathedral during the Hunt other than officials of the Church, and she was the last who remained. To investigate the noise invited trouble, but she could not allow unknown persons free reign within the Church’s most sacred place of worship.
Bare feet stepped swiftly on the cold stone floor, the Vicar making her way through the labyrinthine interior to where those that came to pray offered their pleas to the Great Ones. Amelia let very few inside the Cathedral during the Hunt, and to enter without her explicit permission was to tempt punishment. Every citizen of Yharnam knew the law, and every citizen knew that the Cathedral Ward was sealed whenever the Hunt was underway. Simply because the Hunters had failed in their task thus far did not mean that law could yet be broken.
She could smell a man within the main chamber as she approached, a stink of ash and age. Swathed in the vestments of her station, she emerged from a side hall, seeking the stranger by the smell of his blood and sound of his breath. Her voice slips from her throat, soft and full of authority.
“The Cathedral is not open for worship during the Hunt. You should not be here.”
█ ▌✟ ┈┈ Snapped out of trance-induced prayer by slicing
of air from voice, hunter’s gaze was soon cast to
shadow’s murk of left Cathedral passage. The slow
emergence of Holy Official was enough to comfort,
but if only a fleeting moment, as any man still in touch
with their sanity understood such a place was forbidden
until morning’s Sun. The mere title in which he held was
no excuse to be trespassing on sacred property. But surely,
the Vicar would see his ails, and allow departure with no
more than another disk or two of silver cast, to contribute
maintenance of such ancient walls around them.
❝ Ah, apologies m’lady. I needed a bit of-
sanctuary
from all this madness of beasts.
❞
Prayer cushion picked up, placed neatly on rotting wood
of pew as hunter resumed to stand. On such nights where
streets ran red with blood of both beast and man, no else were
it safe to expose one’s mind- one’s very soul to beings which may
or may not even exist. The simple luxury of murmuring a few
words requesting the protection of family was all Djura could ask.
He need not find disquiet here.
