[Like his father, Nathanial was often quiet. Although he was more inclined to talk than the other, just not as much as his other siblings or their mother. The doll had caught him once, when he was frustrated and somewhat despondent, writing in the journal after periods of reflection. Then ripping the page out, balling it up, and throwing it in the fireplace in the workshop. Unsatisfied and finding no outlet for his emotions that way. She had learned that he, like his elder brother, was insatiably curious--and that was part of why he had delved as far as he had, perhaps why he had succeeded where others had not.
Perhaps, if Reginald had made the trip, and the contract, instead of him--his elder would've have succeeded. Especially since Reginald was not always the wisest or most cautious in how he pursued answers to his curiosities. Perhaps the elder Brownhill boy would've succumbed more to madness and fallen that way.
Not too lost in his thoughts however, to pay attention. He was curious about those who'd come before him, but had often not known how to ask. Nor had much time to ask; the Dream was a respite of a sort for Hunters, but there was still a job to do. A contract to fulfill, and the horrors wearied one and stole the energy of body, mind, and soul with despair.]
I would have liked to know their names, and I hope that all those before me--I can not say with certainty. But I hope that they also would value your remembrance of them as much as I value it.
[Made to be a companion to Hunters as she was, she may not have had a choice. But that didn't mean it was any less appreciated. Her care and company and awareness and memory of them all. Pondering that a moment before he raised his cup of tea and took another sip, then spoke.]
I was twenty. We had moved to the city five years before--Reggie had started courting and wife-hunting, hoped to be married within a year before he took ill. It spread through the streets and close quarters, and while we were not the first to succumb, we were exposed early. Probably. A few besides me survived, but no others in my family. Mother was first, then my younger sister, then Father, Reginald...and myself. I suppose in some ways, that becoming a Hunter--in hindsight--was a type of death and rebirth.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2023-10-14 04:25 am (UTC)Perhaps, if Reginald had made the trip, and the contract, instead of him--his elder would've have succeeded. Especially since Reginald was not always the wisest or most cautious in how he pursued answers to his curiosities. Perhaps the elder Brownhill boy would've succumbed more to madness and fallen that way.
Not too lost in his thoughts however, to pay attention. He was curious about those who'd come before him, but had often not known how to ask. Nor had much time to ask; the Dream was a respite of a sort for Hunters, but there was still a job to do. A contract to fulfill, and the horrors wearied one and stole the energy of body, mind, and soul with despair.]
I would have liked to know their names, and I hope that all those before me--I can not say with certainty. But I hope that they also would value your remembrance of them as much as I value it.
[Made to be a companion to Hunters as she was, she may not have had a choice. But that didn't mean it was any less appreciated. Her care and company and awareness and memory of them all. Pondering that a moment before he raised his cup of tea and took another sip, then spoke.]
I was twenty. We had moved to the city five years before--Reggie had started courting and wife-hunting, hoped to be married within a year before he took ill. It spread through the streets and close quarters, and while we were not the first to succumb, we were exposed early. Probably. A few besides me survived, but no others in my family. Mother was first, then my younger sister, then Father, Reginald...and myself. I suppose in some ways, that becoming a Hunter--in hindsight--was a type of death and rebirth.