Old Nightmares

[just_a_doll]

PSL for hunter_marked_soul


[ Being the product of a lonely old Hunter's obsession and eventual mania paired her with the memories of her likeness. Memories of someone who looks like her; sounds like her, but who's personality is far removed from her own. Even when she felt the proverbial shackles release, the dreams remained; and when she followed the Good Hunter into the waking world, she felt closer to them than ever.

Everything became more vivid, when before, there were only brief flashes and muffled voiced. The blood had stronger scent, a stronger taste; it was intoxicating and empowering. The blade in her hand felt heavy, real and the screams felt close. Too close. She could feel the splash of blood against her cheek, the slimy chunks of skin and viscera that stained her coat sleeves up to her elbows after prying open something hard. Bone, perhaps? Yes, it must have been. And she had been searching for something...

Something to help her see… No, no. To elevate her mind. Eyes to provide insight. But she had yet to find any in all of the slaughter.

The scent of salt and brine is suffocating; the ocean must be close… She sees the face of a pale creature; she can smell her blood and feel her skin. It’s unnatural, scaled and slimy. She holds something in her hands that is so coated in blood that she can’t discern what it is. Somewhere far away, in the background, the distinct sound of weeping can be heard and over it all, a voice calls out in desperation:

Curse the fiends, their children, too... And their children's children, forever, true.

The remorse weights heavily on her chest, the salt and brine makes her nauseous and as the bloodlust fades, and she looks out at the massacre before her, a tear slips down her cheek.

Suddenly, the Doll’s eyes shoot open and a breath catches so abruptly in her throat, it makes her cough. She sits up when she finds that lying flat only makes her feel severely winded, lifting a hand to grasp the fabric of her nightgown at her chest until she can finally breathe again. Once she can breathe again, she lifts her other hand to her face, finding it to be streaked with tears.

The nightmares are getting so much worse and giving her far too much insight into a life she'd never lived, but… what can she do when she is connected to someone and their memories even in death? Therein lies the question of how to move on; how to separate herself from this guilt-ridden Hunter. It's far too late to think too deeply on it, for even as she is a doll, she feels the effects of exhaustion and benefits from a good night's rest.

Unfortunately, she already knows that sleep will not come so easily, now. Sighing softly, she wipes the tears from her face with the end of her sleeve and reluctantly slips out of bed. To the kitchen, then. A cup of tea would help. Food and drink weren’t required for her survival, but… the smell and the warmth had a way of calming her.

She doesn't think about whether or not Nathaniel is awake, but even if she did consider it, well... modesty is something she is still learning. She is only garbed in her night gown; her nightgown that has a wide neck and tends to maintain a constant state of being off one shoulder, revealing the old ball joint and small scattered cracks in her porcelain arm. At least the sleeves are long and wide, and the general length of the garb falls just above her ankles. ]

Comments

[hunter_marked_soul]

[Nathanial just let himself chuckle, lowering his head a bit and eyes to the cup of tea in his hand.]

I don't blame any of them, you know. I don't pity them, or really have any emotions other than simply understanding. It was not an easy choice to make, to refuse Gehrman's mercy. After all the nightmares fought and slain and all the despair and hopelessness pressing down on one...

[That left out the 'dying'. Even if it wasn't a true death per se, because of the Hunters ties to the Dream. Perhaps in a way they simply had left their body behind while their mind was elsewhere? Or shifted layers of reality? There was no way to tell truly but Nathanial was sure he was not the only Hunter to have died, often painfully, many many times while attempting to survive. Even without poking around and exploring and figuring out the secrets of the past and how it all tied together.]

Were any of them dying, when they came to Yharnam? Making an impossible choice between what was almost certain death, and what was also almost certain death?

[just_a_doll]

Mm... The Hunt took its toll on countless Hunters.

[ And she learned to recognize the ones at the end of their rope by a mere look. Something in their eyes began to fade and dull, esepecially as the nights grew longer. There were few who retained any semblance of optimism, yet still retained stalwart loyalty to their causes.

Eileen had been one of those. One more soul that she found herself wondering about. ]

Many, yes... Their travels saw them from nigh across the lands for the fabled miracle cure in Yharnam's Healing Blood. Many more stood unprepared of what they might face, as they described finding their way into Yharnam a matter most difficult. The night of the Hunt was their only chance.

What I found the most curious was a woman born with white hair and red eyes. All she told me was that her rare condition caused her to be treated poorly in her homeland. Her body was healthy, but her vision was poor. She hunted for a long time and then disappeared. I trust she must have left Yharnam...

Another young woman brought her child who had... ah... scarlet fever, I believe. Unfortunately, the boy passed away shortly before she reached Yharnam's gates. However, she had contracted an illness herself and accepted the Blood ministration in her child's place... to save the life of her unborn one. Even still, she hunted and with a certain... ferocity that I had never seen before.

[ You want stories? Oh, she has stories.

She pauses to take another sip of her tea. ]

I found the strongest of Hunters were those with great determination to live. Your sickness left you so frail... yet you are still here with me.

[hunter_marked_soul]

[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.

[just_a_doll]

The pale haired woman was Elizabeth and the mother, Irene.

[ Their names were seldom forgotten, especially those who left such an impact. As she comes to understand love and it's many forms, looking at them in hindsight produces an array of emotions. Of course, just as she was created, she cared for them all... but in different ways. ]

Mm... The Waking World, while beautiful and fascinating, is so very unkind.

[ She rests her hand gently against his shoulder. ]

The Hunt does, indeed, begin life anew in possibly the most horrific of ways. But to have bested it, and to have become reborn again... Your strength is boundless.

[hunter_marked_soul]

[The Hunter listened quietly and attentively. Nodding with the new information, committing it to memory for himself. When she rested her hand against his shoulder though, his head turned to look at it, before up at her while he let his own rest on hers.]

I think I'm just too stubborn and curious, personally. Flaws in my family and blood after all.

[Nathanial didn't necessarily feel strong, though he'd managed what few if any could. It was still something he was adjusting to, learning, adapting... A pause, then more quietly as his gaze turned downward again.]

My mother's name was Elizabeth, though obviously she was not the same as the one you knew. My father was Arthur, and my sister Eleanor.

[Letting a soft and tiny smile come to his mouth, a hint of sadness too. Then his eyes raised up to meet her gaze again.]

As you are becoming your own being, more fully realized too--you should pick a name. A way to identify yourself, to be who you want. The "Doll" was created to be a thing, but you are so much more than that.

[just_a_doll]

That stubbornness and curiosity have served you well, then.

[ Her hand remains on his shoulder, especially when she catches that fall in his expression, her thumb rubbing gentle circles. Affection and touch is something she found herself nigh craving, so she took the opportunities when they arose. Touch was such a comforting gesture, after all. ]

I would love to hear more about them.

[ The comment about her coming up with her own name gives her a bit more pause. She may have considered it once or twice, but never seriously. Going without a name for her was just as well, but even she knew the importance of one's name and the meaning behind it.

Maria is likely the name Gehrman would have given her, had she born any resemblance to her human likeness. And that... doesn't feel right. ]

I will take care in my consideration.

[ She hums thoughtfully. ]

What would you call me?

[hunter_marked_soul]

[His hand still lay over hers, and was squeezed gently in acknowledgement and thanks. Never mind that the digits under his own were cool porcelain or that he could feel the joints of them more easily than a flesh one. She was, and always had been, a being and person to him.

He was quiet as well, letting her ponder and pondering things himself. Then with her question, an eyebrow rose and half of his mouth quirked up in a wry-smile. Dry amusement in his voice as he responded...]

Anything but Maria. Or Elizabeth. Or Eleanor. But absolutely not Maria or any variation thereof.

No chance of Silent Hill 2 MARY becoming a thing, huh? xD

[just_a_doll]

[ Perhaps as she read more and came to know more names and their meanings, she might have an easier time picking one. For now, just being referred to as what she is doesn't cause her any distress. ]

It may take some time and if I never find one, I will never take offense to being referred to as I always have.

[ For now, tea and light conversation is much nicer than the looming feelings of the nightmare she just experienced. Removing her hand from his shoulder, she goes to take another sip. ]

Have you any plans for us come morning?

[hunter_marked_soul]

[Her movement and words brought another soft chuckle, the Hunter sitting back down and turning his attention to his own cup.]

It's odd, to wait for morning, when it's only been night for so long that I remember.

[Musing a bit, around his own sip.]

While the scholar here recognized us in a way, I don't believe that he or his wife know why we're here either yet. We have options, despite that the both of us will stand out among these people. The first, is that we can go scout and explore ourselves. Listen, look for clues, investigate. Hopefully with out something nasty attempting to kill us. Or perhaps hopefully with--as that will give us a lead.

The other option is we let the scholar do his research and that legwork for us. Though I'm not much for waiting anymore, and you've done plenty of waiting already.

[Closing his eyes, Nathanial focused on the tea. The warmth, scent, feel of what he could through his gloves. Pondering, and letting his brain mull things. Try to recall if there was anything in his previous life, before this one and before the hunt, that might help. Perhaps...]

[just_a_doll]

Indeed… The moon is so much smaller here, too. I grew accustomed to it hanging so close, especially on those longer nights.

[ And her poor Hunters had to suffer the longest of Hunts, returning to her weary, yet full of Blood and adrenaline. Not the greatest combination given the intoxicating nature of the Hunt.

The Doll moves to pour herself another cup of tea and then takes her seat again as she listens to Nate’s response.

While she doesn’t doubt that she could survive an ambush, her body could easily be cracked and broken. She certainly means to take care of it for as long as she can. A part of her wonders how hard it would be to create a vessel of her own, but now is hardly the time to even go about attempting it. ]

Our host must surely have his own matters to attend. We may find more success in venturing out on our own.

Perhaps… if time permits, finding a weapon to protect myself with might help us both in the future. This vessel, while imbued in arcane, is fragile… and I wish not to be a hindrance to you.

[hunter_marked_soul]

[Nate was fine with the one cup, and especially with the company. Even if he'd originally come to keep her company, instead of needing it himself.]

Perhaps he does, but I'm also curious as to how he seemed to recognize us. Or at least, a Hunter. For all that I believe I've encountered one of his kinsman driven mad on his own hunt, I had not thought that the Hunt was that well known outside of Yharnam. Certainly I'd never heard of it before venturing there.

[Musing to himself, and there was still so much they did not know about their host and his family. Mostly because of the language barrier being the biggest problem. Not insurmountable, but annoying and making things more difficult. Her continued words had him turning to her though, with a soft smile.]

I doubt you are as fragile as you think, nor do I see you being a hindrance. You are, perhaps, taking the idea that a Hunter is never alone in a new way.

[That might've been an attempt to joke, from his tone of voice.]

We will absolutely get you a weapon if you wish. If not from here, returning to the Dream certainly gives us options.

[just_a_doll]

He may have an idea, then, of how widely that knowledge spread, and how much time has passed since then.

[ Time is strange. Normal time, that is. Normal human time. She's still coming to get used to it, herself. The nights never last long and neither do the days, for that matter. ]

We were lucky to happen upon him.

[ The Doll is still a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to jokes, but his smile earns him one in return. ]

Of course. Though, your strength far exceeds my own-[ In the body of a doll, that is. ]-the need for its use may yet arise. After all, Hunters and gods alike have fallen to a mere blade.

[ She reaches out with one hand, gently stroking his cheek with her knuckle. When she's speaks again, it's slowly and emphatically, even through the usual softness of her voice. ]

I will not have that.

[hunter_marked_soul]

Perhaps.

[Was all the Hunter, Nathanial, said in response to her musing about their host and his family. There was a wry smile with her next few words, eyes closing after a moment with a soft laugh under his breath. Those eyes opened again with her touch against his cheek. Unconsciously leaning into the cool porcelain just as if it were flesh. Pale golden-brown eyes looked to meet her own.]

I am not so fragile as to die completely. Arrogance would be my downfall though, so an abundance of caution and preparation will not be amiss.

[just_a_doll]

My thoughts precisely.

[ Her hand lingers for a moment on his cheek, the way he leans into her touch causing the odd, fleeting feeling of warmth to bloom in the center of her core. It isn't new, but she finds that it happens far more frequently as of late. The way he smiles at her causes it, as can a mere touch, and when he laughs, she feels strangely weak.

Behind the warmth is the tug of yearning, soft and subtle for now, but stronger than it used to be. An emotion she doesn't quite grasp and cannot name. Nonetheless, the smile she returns comes naturally as she holds his gaze. ]

[hunter_marked_soul]

[If he had any hints of her thoughts, he didn't show it. Nor did Nathanial let on any of his own. Just savoring the kind touch, that it was affectionate--and not designed to bring pain. Smile turning less wry to more tired, but still a smile. Bringing his own gloved hand up to cup hers and hold it against his cheek for a moment.

Then encouraging it away from his cheek as he got to his feet. A second more to hold her hand, a soft squeeze, then he was pulling back.]

It's far too late, or far too early. If you're feeling better, you should return to resting. We both should.

[He did not say sleep--for that was still an ever tricky state of being where he was concerned.]

[just_a_doll]

[ The Doll slowly pulls her hand back to rest on the side of her cup, taking a slow sip from it and showing no signs of getting up. ]

I would prefer to remain here. The fire is warm and I'm very much at peace.

[ And not in danger of falling asleep again. She turns her head to look up at him. ]

Rest well, Nathanial.