This wasn’t normal, was it? It couldn’t be—no way was she being chased cross country by three helicopters and a man with giant black wings. No way.

                              Her breathing was ragged; forgetting her sidhe-seer training in a rush of fear and adrenaline as her legs pumped incessantly without thought, logic and reason completely overridden. The wind rushed in her ears, the crisp air of dusk stung her nose and throat; none of it registered. The only thing that did was the sound of her footsteps thudding against the earth and the consuming drone of the machines in hot pursuit. Azuka purposefully dropped into a sliding skid, down a sharp bank into a more heavily wooded area. Instantly, once reaching the bottom, she was back on her feet and running as fast as she could. Her graduation gown snagged and weighed her down, and had she been thinking clearly she might have taken it off.

                                                         Too late.

She could hear the sound of barking and howl’s, the likes of which she had never heard before; seconds before the cracking and creaking of tree-branches and foliage gave way under the paws of shadowlike canines. Azuka chanced a look over her shoulder, dark hair slipped across her face and obscuring her view for only a second—but that’s all it took. Between one breath; one step, and the next she saw burning black shadows made flesh and bone, snapping with jaws filed with white fangs as pale as bone.

She screamed and the beast bayed.

CW: Religion mention, lady whump, major character death

@whumptober2020 day 20

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The stain glass of the church cast a green light across the pews, yellowing tile giving a distinctly mossy look to the floor despite the sharp sounds of Tiffany’s footsteps. She approached the altar through the empty rows, supposing she shouldn’t find it odd that the space would be empty, despite the church’s size. And the fact that it was the centerpiece of the convent. Hm.

“Excuse me?” she called out quietly, her voice echoing in the space. Gorgeous acoustics. She came to a halt right before the altar and stared at the smooth plane, the lovely woodworking on its edges. Then she lifted her eyes to the stained glass pouring light upon her. The glass eyes of the virgin mother stared sympathetically down at her, and she raised a hand to her neckline, fishing out her rosary. She gripped it tightly in hand, contemplating a prayer.

“What is this I find fresh upon our altar?” The nun’s voice cut through the echoing silence of the church and Tiffany turned. Smiled.

“A wanderer, my sister,” she answered. “A traveller passing through.”

The nun approached slowly, a warm smile folding up into her many sagging wrinkles. “You are a most welcome arrival my child. Travellers are a cherished treasure in this abbey.” Tiffany extended a hand with a smile and the nun covered it with both of her own soft, cool ones.

“I am Theophania,” she said, “Tiffany.”

“Welcome, young Theophania. I am Sister Ester. Come. We are about to eat; I insist you join us.”

Tiffany’s smile widened. “I could hardly impose.”

“Nonsense. You are weary from your travels and have many stories in your memories. A brain such as yours would be welcome at our table.”

Tiffany bowed her head respectfully, accepting the invitation. Sister Ester was correct, after all. She was tired, weary from a long journey and anticipating the set at it again early in tomorrow’s dawn. A warm meal and pleasant company was… more than welcome. And after, she might receive a blessing from the nuns, so that her soul might continue on unblemished and unburdened.

Sister Ester walked very slowly, and now that she was closer, Tiffany could see that she actually walked with a limp.

“Worry not, child. Some years ago I was bitten, and it has changed my gait,” Sister Ester explained when Tiffany inquired about it.

“Therefore, I am glad to see you recovered and well, holy sister.”

A few more nuns joined them as they walked to the refectory, curious about Tiffany, one reaching up and pinching her cheek, remarking on the health of her skin and cute red flush. Tiffany was unused to this level of attention, particularly from those of the church, but she was scarcely going to complain. 

The nunnery seemed well populated, though all the nuns moved with the same unrushed slowness of old women who were quite well going to take their time and those younger lot could come to terms with such. Even the younger looking nuns moved at the same snail’s pace, but, well, they were nuns. Tiffany supposed it was only expected. Grace and graciousness and all that.

The refectory was full of pleasant conversation and a general air of excitement, which spiked when Tiffany came through the doors and all attention turned to her. She laughed, a touch self conscious, and waved hello, chuffed to be the center of attention. They really must not get many visitors here--although, this was a small town, secluded. And in the aftermath of the recent plague, travellers like herself had settled down in secure cities, not wishing to risk the roads just yet. 

But she was brave, and reckless, and unwilling to wait when the queen’s armies had assured the populace that all was safe once more. 

“Now, dear Theophania,” Sister Ester said once they were seated. “Let us pray, and then we shall feed.”

Tiffany bowed her head, clasping her hands neatly in her lap and closing her eyes. She heard the faint shuffling of those she assumed would be the ones who would bring in the food once prayers were said, but the refectory was otherwise silent.

Sister Ester began her prayer by asking blessing on Tiffany, that she be accepted well into the heavens and her soul be blessed, and many thanksgivings that she had been sent to this convent. But then, instead of moving on to bless the meal, Tiffany felt hands on her. She opened her eyes in confusion, looking to one nun, then the other, their hands like vices on her shoulders.

She tried to shake them off, alarm rising in her swiftly, but while their grips did not so much as flag, some of the skin peeled off one hand. Rotted. Rotted to the bone.

“No.”

“And we ask a blessing on our meal,” Sister Ester continued, now open-eyed and looking at Tiffany with hunger. “May the food be a blessing to our bodies, and our bodies a blessing to our service. And for young Theophania--”

“NO!”

“--we pray--”

“GET OFF ME!”

“That she be strong and steadfast!”

“LET ME GO!”

“That she shall not fear, or be dismayed!”

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE LIKE THIS!”

“For eternal grace shines upon her!”

The other nuns, the zombies, were closing in, salivating now.

“...Wherever she shall go.”

Tiffany went down under their hands, slow but impossibly strong, screaming at the sight of rotting teeth.

--