Raven's Stash of Resident Evil x Reader Things

Cassandra Killing Monster, Only to Realize it Used to Be Her S/O

(Gender ambiguous).

Includes: Cassandra Dimitrescu (Village).

Warnings: blood, violence, death.

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"Go away, Dani. I don't want to be bothered right now."

"You haven't let me bother you for forever now!" Daniela whines. She has to raise her voice quite a bit because the maiden Cassandra is torturing won't stop screaming. "Why have you been especially grouchy lately?"

"I haven't been."

Daniela spares a glance at the growing collection of dead maidens and crystalized Moroaice around the cellar. Almost all courtesy of her sister. "...Right. You know—"

"If you don't leave, I'm going to tell Mother what actually happened to her favorite wine glass."

Daniela gasps, "You wouldn't."

"Care to test me?"

After a moment of consideration, Daniela lets out an overdramatic sigh. "Fine..." She throws her arms up and meanders her way back upstairs.

The screams of the maiden peter out. Her movements still.

"Dead already?" Cassandra mutters, her sulkiness still far from lifted. "I had a feeling you'd be a bore..."

She refuses to admit what has her In such a poor mood.

(It's you).

You stopped writing.

You stopped visiting.

She doesn't understand.

Did you fall out of love with her and decide to cut things off without another word? Like a coward?

What if you never truly cared for her at all? What if you were using her all along? That better not be the case. Cassandra will drain you of your blood if it is.

Could you have gotten yourself injured? Sick?

She's sorely tempted to go down to your house and the village and find out. Unfortunately, she can't. Her mother will kill her if she finds out she went outside while there's still snow on the ground.

...

Fuck it. Cassandra can't stand another second of this.

In the dead of night, she dons the thickest clothes she owns, puts on a heavy cloak (which you're always so insistent that she wears when you think it's too chilly outside), clips her quiver around her waist, grabs her bow, and sneaks out.

The cold immediately hits her like loads of needles sticking her over and over again. She soldiers through it. Thankfully, the journey isn't a long one.

Your home is dark. The curtains are drawn. At such as late hour, that's to be expected, though.

Your horse is gone, the door to its stable left ajar.

Spots of blood mark your small porch. Your blood. Cassandra would recognize it anywhere. Not a good sign.

After the time that's passed, no other clues remain. A dead end. Hm.

Cassandra marches over to the house across from yours and pounds on the door. It takes a few minutes, but someone eventually comes and opens it a crack. "Who's there...?" As soon as the villager sees the tall, dark figure on their doorstep, they immediately begin to close it. Cassandra slams her open palm against the wood, stopping them short and promptly forcing her way inside.