Old Nightmares
Sep. 29th, 2019 10:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
just_a_dollPSL 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. ]
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. ]
No chance of Silent Hill 2 MARY becoming a thing, huh? xD
Date: 2023-10-20 04:17 pm (UTC)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?
no subject
Date: 2023-10-21 05:16 am (UTC)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...]
no subject
Date: 2023-10-21 07:18 am (UTC)[ 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.
no subject
Date: 2023-10-21 11:47 pm (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2023-10-27 08:13 am (UTC)[ 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.
no subject
Date: 2023-10-27 05:45 pm (UTC)[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.
no subject
Date: 2023-11-09 12:03 am (UTC)[ 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. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-11-19 07:20 am (UTC)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.]
no subject
Date: 2023-11-25 07:59 am (UTC)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.