Resident Evil Village: Imagines

Tit For Tat - Cassandra Dimitrescu

I started writing this with the intent of finishing my idea. However, my plan did not come to fruition. I also feel bad for not posting enough. So, I'm giving you what I managed to write and praying it's enough. I hope you enjoy it!

Most maids believe that navigating Castle Dimitrescu compares to taming a snake; both seem equally impossible. The towering wallpaper plastered to every hallway blends into one another seamlessly. Dots of near-microscopic flowers gradually twist into splattered swirls of gold in only two slow steps.

To add to the confusion, hidden crawl spaces in random fireplaces and walls litter much of the castle. The nobles expect maids to use these human-sized wormholes to travel around the grounds. This manner of getting around creates tardiness they despise. Maids frequently meet their end through such actions. So, getting lost is not an option. However, I've begun to master my way around the massive castle.

Lady Cassandra and I formed a relationship of sorts. After meeting with her many afternoons, finding my way around the castle became easier. She waits for me by the maiden's quarters when my shifts end. We don't do much but talk or wind down together in the Opera Room.

She dialogues her day, pridefully explaining her kills and the weapons she's constructed. I merely listen to her illustrations, only adding comments when necessary. When we relax in the Opera Hall, she usually sketches out a weapon she plans to make, and I read whatever random book Cassandra brought for me. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I even get to play the piano.

During the first weeks of my work at the castle, Lady Cassandra followed me everywhere. The weight of stalking eyes stained my body in any direction I chose. Sometimes, I would catch a glimpse of one of her flies or her stocking shadow creeping along the wallpaper beside me.

She glared or snarled in response, offering me a devilish smile that folded the electric currents of my brain into themselves. Sometimes she even attempted to scare me, but I noticed the scattered blur of her swarm just in time. She failed to realize I observed her as much as she did me.

Somewhere along the way, something changed. I can't remember where or when, but I know it did. I'm glad it did. I'd never get to see her as the passionate and protective person she is without the abrupt transition. Occasionally, though, I wish we could do more.

The other day, she showed me the new sickle she made for her sister, Lady Daniela. Daniela took poor care of her old sickle, according to Cassandra. Lady Daniela never cleaned the blade, and the metal began to rust. Eventually, a big hole wore through the center of the weapon.

Cassandra brought me to the armory, standing beside me as I scanned her work. The weapon shined underneath the gentle candlelight positioned above her work table. I could see a clear view of my reflection across the sparkling metal and the flawless curve of the blade.

Wholly impressed, I reached for the weapon laid flat upon her desk. I praised her as I did so. Enthralled, I extended my hand for the enticing glimmer. Before my fingers could even graze the sharp falx, Cassandra caught my hand.

She gripped my palm tight, squeezing it so hard I imagined that my fingers would fall off from lack of blood circulation. I found her expression unreadable: her eyebrows did not strain together, her lips remained relaxed, and her jaw did not tense. Though I could not read her visage, the coolness of her gloves, and how desperately I wanted to feel the skin beneath them clasped around my mind and held on tight.

We locked eyes silently, waiting for each other to do something. The typical dark, mischievous glint in Cassandra's eyes disappeared at that moment. The woman leaning over me, close enough for me to embrace, didn't resemble the playful, sadistic, and seemingly collected person I grew to adore.