Anastasia's silvery knife retracted from the throat of the vampire, his blood completely covering the weapon in its crimson shade.
The blade was now the same color as the eyes of the corpse beneath her body.
She looked for a long time at the blade, thinking about her recent action.
She dropped the kitchen knife and looked at her hand still on the dead vampire's body, where blood lay on it.
The only mark of their fight was this very trace of blood on her hand; she had not dropped a single one of hers in this fight.
How overpowered.
I'm not entirely sure why I developed this sudden ability, but it did save my life, so I will not complain.
If I continued this fight with the poison still in my body, I can't be sure the outcome would've been the same.
I could've very well ended up the one beneath him right now, my throat completely severed, my blood pouring heavy, and my body lifeless.
How terrifying.
She then looked towards the tablecloth, which had landed perfectly on the deceased body of Count Dumas.
Her eyes had a painful expression as she truly understood that the man had left the plane of the living.
How unfortunate...
I would've hoped to get your last will before this, Raviel.
Her pained expression followed as she turned her head towards another place.
Anastasia looked next to her at the crowd of nobles, some in shock, some in disgust, and some with expressions that couldn't be determined, as one in particular.
I knew this would've had consequences; I was ready for it.
But seeing it like this makes it much scarier.
How will I face my father?
How will I face the Countess?
Her heart raced like never before; it was a feeling she had never experienced.
Am I... Scared?
She looked right at her father, who had an expression unlike that of any person in the hall. It was more tender and empathetic.
Dmitri advanced first amongst all the silent observers. He lowered himself to a squatting position and took her daughter's hand with both of his.
He stood up, and before she knew it, Anastasia had also done the same, facing Dmitri as she sensed a warmth enveloping her body.
She was unable to classify this feeling of such warmth and comfort, but she could very well affirm that it wasn't unpleasant.
Dmitri, his brown coat having received splashes of blood, pulled his daughter by her hands and walked through the crowd.
The crowd shifted automatically according to their movements, as if they had no minds of their own and merely followed the flow of events.
It was mesmerizing.
They had gone through the entire crowd of nobles and servants before arriving at the still entrance.
A servant opened the doors without thinking about it and waited for their passage.
Anastasia, still pulled by her father, looked back at a certain someone, the Countess Karina Rostova.
Their eyes met, and something emerged in the young girl's mind.
She was surprised to see that her expression wasn't disgust or fear. She had no idea what it represented, but the Countess's bitter smile was closer to joy than pain, a bit of both still.
She didn't know what the Countess had lived through, but the smile sent her a wave of emotions and regret for some reason.
A single tear, almost invisible, covered the Countess's face.
"..."
After he asked a servant to look for a carriage, both Dmitri and Anastasia waited hand-in-hand under the snowy sky.
The front of the estate was beautiful and natural, unlike those typical mansions full of perfection.
Sometimes, the imperfect could be more beautiful than any form of perfection.
The leafless trees were tall and covered in blankets of white.
The grass was covered in thick snow, making the entire view feel truly like winter.
"You've grown, my daughter." Dmitri opened the conversation with this single sentence.
Anastasia looked towards him with question marks.
"What do you mean?"
"When you were a kid, you had no friends, your mother and I were really scared for your future, we sincerely thought that you would end up alone in life."
He chuckled.
"But after seeing you today, I understood something that I couldn't imagine before."
He scratched his head, making the hair around it flow in the wind.
Despite his old age, Dmitri was blessed by nature with hair of a decent length, about the same as Anastasia's.
"A person like you, brave, protective, skilled, charismatic, and bold, will have no trouble getting what they want in life."
He looked up at the sky, observing the stars for a while; maybe he found something in those night's shiny lights.
"Of course, you're not perfect, you're stubborn, foulmouthed, and prideful, I can't imagine you ever becoming the wife of a rich noble."
He looked at Anastasia, slightly taller than him, but it didn't take off any weight from his speech this time around.
"But I'm not afraid of what is to come of your future, Anastasia."
He showed the early phase of a smile, sighing slightly before pursuing.
"I don't know how she would think exactly, but one thing is for sure..."
Dmitri grinned proudly at his daughter; it was everything a father should do in times like these.
"Your mother would be proud of you."
Suddenly, the carriage arrived with the loud sound of horses following it.
"Oh, the carriage arrived faster than expected. Shall we enter?" He looked back at Anastasia, still holding his hand.
He made a head gesture toward the brown carriage, its top covered in snow.
Anastasia nodded as they walked to the carriage led by the two horses in front.
Dmitri headed into the vehicle first and let go of Anastasia's hand as she entered.
Just as she made the first step, Anastasia felt something on her face.
She looked at the thick window, which reflected her figure.
Her body was as usual, and her white hair was still in its bob close to shoulder-length.
Her eyes were of this pure golden color, like the God she had encountered a few days ago.
Her height was beyond that of any normal woman, standing taller than most men, even.
She didn't have overly broad shoulders, but they weren't frail either.
Her dress was ripped in certain places, but this was expected.
Her face was still the same, a typical praussurian nose with the lips of her father.
She slowly observed the single drop of water on her cheeks, which had left its mark over the course of the eye to its current point.
Her expression was that of shock and emotion, midway between surprise and warmth.
Dmitri stepped towards the entrance and looked at Anastasia.
"Is everything okay?"
She looked back at her father and smiled happily.
"Yeah, sorry, I'll enter."