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They had expected him to start playing as soon as the dangerous dark locks of hair begin to move. However when his arms fall to rest at his sides they grew confused. Their singular red eye watches him in curiosity, and only grew more curious as he crouches down to their height. This was possibly the first time they had ever seen his face this up close before. The seemingly ever present smile felt even wider at the closer proximity, yet they still could not catch a glimpse of the eyes hidden underneath the inky black locks.

He wants to help them? There wasn’t necessarily a rule against a Hunter letting them go, or even helping them escape, but they weren’t sure why he would do such a thing. Perhaps this was a trick, they have witnessed many Hunters offer salvation to a SURVIVOR only to rip their hopes of freedom right from under them. But those Hunters were known for their cruelty. They were the ones who truly enjoyed this tortuous game of cat and mouse…… The VIOLINIST did not appear to be one of them.

“You do not have to…. But thank you.” Even as they try to move as carefully as possible, their body aches as they manage to prop themselves up. Thin frail arms reach out for him to take. Their body was light, far too light to be considered healthy for someone of their size. “When I am in better condition—Would you play for me again?”

          as soon as consent is given, antonio’s arms reach to them in turn, one bracing behind their back while the other curled beneath their legs, bringing them in against their chest with a careful squeeze. they’re thankful they still have a bit of strength remaining in their limbs or else this motion would not be as easy, & they felt it would be rather shameful to offer such assistance only to drop the wounded survivor after.      they need a moment to make sure they are positioned properly so they would not stumble forward or fall backwards when they stand, readjusting their grip to be more secure. when they stand, there’s only a light stagger before they are balanced again, hair twisting to raise their violin up & around. hanging just slightly overhead of the survivor. if only they were able to split their focus a bit better, they could perhaps play for them now, letting their hair control the motions. it certainly would help sooth them, correct?

Tonight's duos match hadn't gone very well, much to Mary's dismay. The number of flares she'd taken to the head nearly ripped her stitches and knocked the thing off her shoulders, leaving her more than a little annoyed. However, after chasing the last survivor out of the gate, she quickly switches gears and searches for her partner, anger shifting to concern and worry as she scours the abandoned village for him. "Antonio? Are you still here? I do believe that was the last of them, so.." She trails off once she spots him, brows knitting together as she approaches carefully, calling out to him before she settles a hand on his shoulder to announce her presence. "...You aren't too hurt, are you? Those pests were rather rough today, after all. If there are any injuries, we ought to get them taken care of quickly. And of course, if there are any terrible or lasting injuries, do consider giving names. I'll be sure to give them their due payment next time I match with them~"

          excitement only did so much against the amount of stuns those damned survivors sported, five seconds not nearly long enough time for invincibility, especially when they were already disoriented from the first couple shots. one flare is enough to startle their PUPPETEER, then build up its rage & desperation to get back at the vile survivors. two sends a surge of adrenaline down their strings & into their bones, fueled by their own discomfort & disorientation, as well as the demons frustration & desire to KILL.      three was always a tricky one. it was a two way road, split off at the middle with two possible outcomes. the rare outcome, one that It heavily preferred, was that antonio’s mind would shut down in a way that allowed it complete control, the ravenous demon fueled by their anger & betrayal so that it may perform its violent outburst, punish the idiotic survivors who relied on petty little stuns, excessive ones that were only to add insult to injury... then there was the more likely outcome, the one that, to its disappointment, antonio slipped into. their mind still became somewhat unresponsive, a perfect opportunity to steal what little control they had already & act out its rage, except the body itself was too tired, limbs heavy as stone, rendering its prized VIOLINIST useless.

“worrying won’t do you any good.” / from ann!!

          “ ... no, no it won’t. but that does not make it any easier to silence the worries. ”      antonio huffs gently, irritation making their skin crawl, dead nerves flaring with discomfort given they had spent so much time around others today-- for the first time in a while since their arrival, they hoped to be the one with a match this evening. give them an excuse to stop thinking, stop worrying, just stop.      a steadying breath drawn in, exhaled, & a grimace takes its place upon their lips. what an annoying creature. a literally annoying kreacher. if it had not been for the constant insisting that they do not ‘ start anything ’ by attacking the man, there would be one less inhabitant within the manor, an empty, bloodied seat left where he had once sat. I’LL RIP HIM APART. KILL HIM, DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT---

A forked tongue slips from between his jaws, testing the air before retreating again. No matter how good some of his senses are, he can’t smell dishonesty, but Luchino dearly wishes he could at times. Who can say what Antonio’s motivations are here, after all?

“I appreciate your…concern. It’s very kind of you.” he says haltingly, almost as if the admission pains him. 

“But frankly, I doubt Nightingale cares. I haven’t broken any rules. I haven’t ‘damaged’ anyone beyond repair. I’m smarter than that. And besides, I have my reasons.”

Reasons that he can already guess the violinist will press him on, should he remain mum. 

So, with a begrudging sigh, he continues: “You can’t be too lenient with them. The survivors, I mean. They’ll notice, if you’re regularly too gentle, too easily letting them win. And that makes them bold. They’ll walk all over you, if you let them.” His tail flicks back and forth, betraying his irritation in a way his voice doesn’t.

“To prevent that, I do this”—he waves a clawed hand vaguely, indicating their entire topic of conversation—“once in a while. I don’t enjoy hurting them. But if I don’t keep them just a little afraid, well…to them, I’m stupid. They’re going to see me as a monster either way, I’d rather not also be considered a monster that one can take advantage of.”

          luchino is wise to assume the VIOLINIST would press at the hinted ‘ reasons, ’ given the way their head cocks to the side as if a wolf being summoned with a bleeding slab of meat. they do not, though. they hold their tongue. they are not impolite; luchino cared not for their teasing at the moment, & so they would be straightforward, allow him to speak to them as much as he could stand to. it wouldn’t be long, sure. but there was a chance that antonio simply did not want to entertain themself alone.      a conversation was a conversation, regardless of if the one you shared it with enjoyed it as much as you.

          “ mmh... i do agree with you there, given how many of our fellow hunters seem to be on strangely good terms with the audience... though i apologize i can not fully understand how it feels to be given the chance to gain such a relationship. ” they begin, an echo of a laugh tumbling past their lips, “ i am supposed to take each match seriously, & i assume i have not broken any rules by doing so... therefore i do not understand what goes on within the gates that can allow us hunters to be sparing.”      if they could roll their eyes they would; of course, we are all monsters. enough of that. the thought feels like venom within their gut, but their smile does not shift to give any indication at their annoyance at the phrase. 

          thick strands of hair curl & lift, arms mimicking the motion as their hands raise before their chest in a submissive gesture. they had not come to torment their fellow hunter, no! quite the opposite. they had felt a twinge of concern hearing about the... levels luchino had gone to when dealing with his recent prey, such that the actions bordered the thin line of rationality that still remained in place within the manor...      “ i am well aware of that fact, luchino. this is not coming from a place of malice. ” they start, arms once again falling to hang limp by their sides. why the other hunters felt the need to be so HOSTILE towards their own kind ( in a way, though none of them ever truly felt as though they were the same BREED of human at some point in their past ), they would never truly know. but then again, they had a few they preferred to avoid unless they wished for a headache that lasted them the rest of the night.      luchino was one of the few they tolerated most often.

@violnst​ : “ i never asked to be like this. ” (to violetta ;v;) | pinterest quotes |

     It wasn’t first time she heard something like that, especially not in this manor. Before this place she also was saying that quite often on worse days. Was it much of surprise? Who would want to be born without any limbs?      There was small sigh escaping her, irritation related to damage in Antonio’s wear, as she grasped on their sleeve, in attempt to patch up damage from previous game. “ Please don’t move for a moment. “ was first thing she murmured, as needle went into fabric closing unwanted holes in suit Antonio was wearing. Damned palletes & guns. Though soon she spoke up to answer the comment from fellow hunter.

    “ I think most people who ended up here never wanted to be like this.. “ Not everyone for sure and she didn’t only mean the otherworldly beings and a certain serial killer. Soul Weaver herself was one who actually asked to be like it, so she didn’t exactly shared same emotions as they. With that one of her lower hands slotted into theirs, in some form of comfort as she still worked around the coat and all it’s tears.      “ But let’s look at the bright side of things - if none of this ever happened, I’d never have a chance to hear your beautiful music or meet you. Or actually do much at all. “ Small, yet bit pained, chuckle escaped her. She hated to go back to those days - being nothing more than a weird pet to show off in eyes of everyone, even if it was bound to happen with such talks. Yet her own pain didn’t matter, as it wasn’t about her, but Violinist in front of her, so Violetta’s own worries were pushed aside. Those are old wounds anyway. With that she gave hand a light squeeze in comforting manor.       “ Sadly, I can’t be much more of help, than just offer a listening ear for you. “ Hopefully it was at least a bit, though still focused on repairing outfit, she switched subject of conversation quite quickly. “ Also, could you sit down? I don’t want to press on anything and damage while trying to stand up, but I can’t reach it from here. “

         a part of the VIOLINIST had considered explaining to violetta that there was no need in patching up their clothes; the next match would only result in more tears, whether it was from the pallets, the guns, or their own force that tore at clothes just as they tore at limbs. yet the spider seamstress’ thread was a lot sturdier than the worn down fabric of their suit, so they felt a bit of ease knowing it may ( hopefully ) take more to actually end up tearing it again. at least long enough that violetta would not grow cross with them returning so soon after.     they processed the faint sensation of a hand within theirs, fingers twitching to close around hers in a light grip, rather thankful for the small act of comfort she offered them when their more human thoughts returned. it did not happen often, antonio more commonly existing in a blissful state of indifference & uncaring. so when it did, they... they felt helpless. there was no way to force the thoughts back out, not without the help of the controlling hands that tugged their strings, & it would not be returning until their next performance. so they had to sit within them, wondering of who it was they were before, if they never asked to be the thing they are now.