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Moonlight had lowly baptised the stairs leading up the Cathedral, polluted by ever-present stench of the dead and eerie calls penetrating thick air. The Bloody Crow sighed shallowly, feeling a gentle carress of midnight wind. He's been given a clear duty: to disperse of Eileen the Crow. He had stalked her for quite some time; alas, never succeeding at killing her. The area he just entered carried her scent harshly: in its way, it was punishing—as if Eileen was toying him around; making him chase his own tail as a damned hound. On two occassions, he had the pleasure to see her in action—undoubtably, she was a foe most formidable. When she fought, she primarly wielded her Blade of Mercy: a pair of magnetized blades, which had the ability to become separated into a pair of another, independent blades. As the Bloody Crow had noticed, she mostly favored ranged weapons—knives, to be exact. She thawed said knives at her enemy with little to no mercy: she was experienced, and surely participated in this waltz years before him. Sometimes, she'd also shoot out of her pistol—if there's one thing that the Bloody Crow can spare, it must be the fact that he wielded firearms better than she did; perhaps she had an aversion to the prior mentioned pistol. The Bloody Crow couldn't help but stand still and watch Eileen in her dance—as if there was an invisible leash dragging him to her presence. She never failed at noticing him—let it be a raspy laugh or annoyed sigh. He knew that she was hunting him down as well—that just furthermore deepened his fascination. Thus, he followed her queer scent, up the stairs, shooting glances at the beasts she'd killed.
He paid no mind to the way he was stepping over corpses left behind by Eileen—matter-of-fact, he made sure to trash them ever so slightly. Beastly blood and leftover guts stained his boots as he walked, one hand grasping his Chikage tightly, letting the other hang behind his back. There was a formidable hauteur to his step: after all, he was a hunter of Cainhurst; member of the Vileblood covenant, as well as mighty follower of Annalise, his dear Queen. He swore underneath an oath to betray the Healing Church and sacrifice himself to the sacrilegious plight: no matter the odds, he would never betray his beloved covenant, nevermind the Queen herself. He shall not betray her this time, neither; he wouldn't forgive himself such a sedition in the form of cowardice. No elderly woman hiding herself beneath a Plague Doctor mask shall estrange him from his duty. His mouth salivated as he pictured her with a wildly weeping wound dealt straight to her abdomen—or, more accurately, the sight of blood made his eyes widen and cause his heart to beat a rhythm akin to a swarm of warhorses galloping through snow-covered plains; deep within, he craved blood—bloodshed.
Seeing the amount of corpses left behind, The Bloody Crow felt somehow at ease—at last he wouldn't be the one to trouble himself with such a passive duty. He passed through a sculpture he called "altar-esque", then through an open, ornate gate keeping out another, closed and way bigger in size. Fortunately, a lever had stood near; thus, he pulled it, watching the gate open before him. A familiar scent entered his system, giving him a split chance to dodge a beast's attack. He knew little about the origin of that tall, brim-covered creature blowing flame at his direction—all he knew was that it must fall. Killing it was remotely easy: hide behind it, backstab twice, finish it with a gunshot to the head. The beast had fallen to the ground idly, groaning in acute pain and thawing two blood vials as it did. The Bloody Crow snickered and passed through the newly opened gate, feeling Eileen's scent harsher and harsher with each step.
A row of weeping maidens riddled the staircase he descended downwards by. He gazed at them shortly, impressed by the craftmanship of said sculptures, yet decided to plague his mind with Eileen instead. Undoubtably, he was getting lost in this grotesque area; all that was left was to follow Eileen's trace. Thus, he backed up, following the clues he was blessed with; taking in the lack of enemies with slight unease. Something, someone else was there: a hunter, without unnecessary queries. It appeared to The Bloody Crow that they left not so long ago.
A relief bathed him, even through the labirynth of the Cathedral Ward dragged a lot of patience out of him. He ascended a ladder presenting itself gingerly; the scent of Eileen now burning his veins. Upon landing on the cobblestone, he heard a crow's call. Without query, he found her. The Bloody Crow picked himself up, slowing up his pace. Eileen stood at the balcony directly to his right, facing the tall gothic build before her; despite her back being turned, The Bloody Crow felt a stare dig deep into his form.
"Bloody Crow of Cainhurst," Eileen spoke, her voice rasped by age. The man she uttered the name of approached her cautiously, letting his weapon's handle go. As he ended up shoulder-to-shoulder with the taller woman, he noticed her gloved hands embraced tightly; her beak mask stained with beastly blood. "Been a while."
"Alas," The Bloody Crow rested his elbows on the balcony's balustrade, smiling beneath his ornate helmet. "Finding you feels akin to torture."
Eileen barked out a guttural laugh, copying her companion's movements. "I am a hunter, young man. I never rest."
"Similar to me." He sighed, taking his chance to look at Eileen. Lighting in the color of deep orange bathed her obscure mask, making the bloodstains more noticeable. He couldn't help but wonder how does she look like beneath that mask—does she even have a face, or is she just a massacred abomination with a voicebox? "Judging by the corpses you left behind, your hunts are hopefully going well."
"Especially well, considering I succeeded at calling you to my boot." Despite the mask covering Eileen's face, The Bloody Crow could clearly see a smile bearing an affronting fashion; thus, he snickered on his own.
"Ever considered the fact that I wanted to be led to you?" He said bluntly. Eileen averted his gaze to his face, grunting noncommittally.
"All of you Vilebloods are such naïve creatures?" A harsher light embraced Eileen's mask, therefore making it even harder for The Bloody Crow to look away from her. "Whiny brats that don't know when and how to stop their ramblings?"
"Doubtful," The Bloody Crow smiled, tracing his gloved finger among the forsaken stone of the balustrade he rested on. "Might as well be only me."
"That's a relief." Eileen mumbled, in contrast devoid of anything to guffaw at. "I dwelled in the idea of all Vilebloods being as pathetic as you."
The man laughed loudly, throwing his head back in pure, unbridled glee. He could feel his smile growing wide, subconciously surprised at his sudden happiness.
"Well, why," He threaded as soon as he caged back his manic joy. "I thought you'd be to miss me as well."
"In your wildest dreams, Vileblood brat." Eileen bit back, silver of irony in her voice. "The only time I'll be happy is when I'll penetrate your pretty skull with a blade."
"Promises, promises." The Bloody Crow straightened his back, burying his gaze into Eileen's form.
"That's why I said when, not if," The feather-covered woman remained in her slouchy posture, looking rather funny next to the noble Bloody Crow. "Little one."
"I await, then." He rested against the balustrade again, this time with his back. Resting his elbows on the balustrade, he leaned his head back, feeling a gentle wind caress his uncovered, white hair. Feeling Eileen's questioning gaze on his skin, he threaded his irony further. "For the day you'll mark my demise."
"Trust me, little one, I await that day as well," Eileen said, smile in her voice; said glee made The Bloody Crow's heart somehow beat faster, and embrace his cheeks in sudden warmth. "Perhaps more ferociously than you do."
"Pity." The Bloody Crow rolled his eyes. "I thought that, at least once, I'd be to win against you."
"What a dreamer you are," He heard Eileen's cloak rustle as she straightened her back. "Keep those fantasies of yours, perhaps they'll come true. As for now, farewell, Bloody Crow."
"Fare thee well, dear Eileen." The Bloody Crow remained in his bizzare position despite an ache growing within his neck. "May your hunt be prosperous."
"It will end with you." Eileen walked away, murder of crows following her. The Bloody Crow stood up to see where she went—alas, he was only met with silence and Eileen's scent gone with the wind.
"Will it, Eileen?" He fixed his weapons, ready to continue his voyage. "Or shall it end with of us, deep underground?"