[Designate]
"It's all your fault!"
I ignored the accusation like I had with the fifteen before him and smashed the Yharnamite's face in. The streets were wet with blood, and I was the one responsible for it. These men may have succumbed to the beastly plague, but I was the one who made the decision to cut them down. I practiced ruthless efficiency, swarming anyone who entered my range and having all my bugs put them off balance before killing them off personally.
"Outsider!" Another yelled.
I prioritised him.
There was a trail of bodies behind me and I didn't at all feel guilty about it. It was difficult to tell if that was me no longer caring, or the echoes of the ones I killed encroaching on my true feelings. The thought made me pause, and a Yharnamite who was getting close enough to actually hit me got swarmed while I thought in it. I dropped something from my pocket before moving on and cutting the Yharnamite's head off.
A haunting melody began to play and I felt a little bit better. For a moment I panicked, since there wasn't the sensation of anything receding from my mind. Whatever this feeling was, it wasn't the echoes of the people I killed whispering to me. It was something else. What the music did do was bring a memory that wasn't mine to bear. I homed in on it, and then rejected it. Stopping the music as I did. After that, I felt more like myself.
Now I was recalling the thought process that lead me to this. I glanced back at the dog I'd killed three times now. Doll had commented on the phenomenon of the returning beasts, but all that amounted to was acknowledging how other hunters had mentioned similar details of their hunts.
Apparently the street level beasts returned no matter how many times they were killed. The 'prey' died permanently, with prey being the objects of the hunt. I took that to mean the ones that turned into silver light and then into a lamp upon death. What differentiated beasts and prey, which was a terrible word to use for them because the 'prey' were usually the most dangerous beasts, was apparently importance.
That was Doll's best guess. I didn't think it was so simple and took the matter to Gehrman, waking up the old man this time because I didn't want to wait for answers. He said much the same, but he did add that when the hunt concluded beasts and prey both would be dead.
This place had a horrible fascination with death. At least now I recognised that I wasn't the only one avoiding it for the time being. Each of the men I killed would return to life the next time I died or returned to the Hunter's Dream. That was a lot of people this time. Beasts, too.
I finally reached the end of the road. There was a gate that needed opening, but I was on the side to open it. Then I killed the three Yharnamites on the other side. After that I made sure that each and every body along the bloody swath I just made was an actual carcass. The route took me to a windowsill. To a conversation I was dreading.
I hesitated. Then I tapped the window.
"Hello Miss hunter. Have you found my mum?" Little Taylor asked.
"I'm sorry." I told her.
Quiet hung between us.
"Why do you sound so sad?" The young girl asked.
I crouched down in front of the window and took off the hat that the little ones had given me upon waking up in the dream. The red jeweled brooch was already in my hand, but I was hesitating. Little Taylor deserved to know. But to be told both her father and her mother were dead at the same time. That she had been orphaned in one night. That I- her faux aunt- was responsible for one of those deaths.
She'd be destroyed.
None of that even took into account where little Annette was. My bugs were combing the buildings, looking for anyone that looked like they could be little Taylor's older sister. But there hadn't been any luck so far.
I was taking so long thinking on it that little Taylor opened the window a bit to get a better look at me. The squeak of the window made me look up and I met little Taylor's eyes.
"You look really familiar, Miss hunter." She said.
"That's what I thought when I first saw you." I told her, making little Taylor frown.
"Um. Okay? Um, what I meant is that daddy has a picture of someone that looks like you. It's very pretty. He keeps it with him and he shows me sometimes."
Oof. I hadn't found anything like that when I was looting the graveyard where Gascoigne died. It was a reason to go back and search for it, but that would have to wait. This needed to come first.
"Why do you have my daddy's axe?" Little Taylor asked.
I froze.
"That's my daddy's axe, Miss hunter. It's my daddy's so why do you have it?" Little Taylor's voice was wavering again. I could see realisation start to dawn on her face.
Gascoigne's blunderbuss and axe, also once Danny's if the memory was accurate, had both been collected when I went back to the graveyard. I had decided to stow the saw cleaver for the time being. It served me well, but with Gascoignes memories at the surface the axe just felt better. It was also neither here nor there. Not what I should be focusing on.
It was heartbreaking and wrong, but I pocketed the red jeweled brooch and pulled out some paper I'd stolen from the workshop. I held a finger up to little Taylor and mimed writing something down.
"You're going to write?" She asked and I nodded. "But I don't know my letters very well."
I made to lay the paper on the ground, but paused. "I can't tell you like this."
"What was it you just said?"
I mimed writing again.
"Um. Okay, I'll try."
Little Taylor sounded like she was on the verge of tears. I sat and scratched out a message on the paper as quickly and as neatly as I could, keeping the script bigger than I normally would so it would be easier for little Taylor to read.
The message was simple. Your dad forgot himself. A new line. I'm so sorry.
It took little Taylor a minute of sounding everything out to get through the first line. She looked to me after finishing the word 'himself'.
"Did he really?" Little Taylor asked.
I just nodded and let her get started on the next line.
"I… Em… this means the letter go together, so aiem?" She looked at me.
I shook my head and tapped my chest.
"Me?"
Sort of. I wobbled my hand.
"Um. Ess… then oh… It's… so?" Little Taylor checked with me. I nodded. "Then it does it again. Then are are. Umm... What's that one?" She pointed at the y.
I considered how to tell her without being able to talk, then eventually pulled the paper closer to me and wrote 'wxyz' on it. Then I looked at little Taylor and attempted to hum a familiar tune.
"Hm hm, hm hm, hm hm hm."
She was a little confused until I continued.
"Hm hm, hm hm, hm hm hm hm hm."
"The alphabet!" Little Taylor got it. I was just glad I could communicate something. She started going through it herself. " G… um…"
"H." I tried to help.
"H I J K…" She got stuck again.
I was surprised that succeeded, so it took me a moment to realise I should keep helping. "L."
" P!" Little Taylor got a bit excited getting that particular sequence out. "Then, um… Q…"
"R."
"R S, T U V," I pointed at the next letters as she said them. "W X, Y! It's Y." She pulled the paper closer and peered at the word she was trying to comprehend. "So-er-er-I?"
I shook my head and pulled the paper to me. I wrote an E, then pushed it back to her. I tapped the Y and then the E.
"So-er-er-e?" Little Taylor said with a frown on her face. I nodded. "Me so soerer…" She trailed off.
"I'm so sorry." I repeated.
Little Taylor wiped her eyes. "Daddy forgot himself… He said he might. He told me what could happen but I didn't think it could happen to him. Dad and Grandad were supposed to look out for each other, that's what mommy said."
Damnit, now I was blinking away tears. I took the paper back and dipped my quill.
"So if you're apologising, then he was a beast. And you…"
I pushed the paper back with a new question. Just a word and a question mark. Name?
Little Taylor grabbed at the distraction. "Nn, ah, mm, ii. Namee? Oh. Name. What's this?" She was pointing at the question mark.
I waved my hand and pointed at her. I already knew what her name was, but I didn't want to come across too strangely. If I was going to look after little Taylor in the place of my not-brother, then she needed to trust me.
"Um…"
I tapped the word and pointed at her again.
"Oh. You were talking about my name. Daddy told me not to talk to strangers, but you're a hunter and you… and you do what's… needed…" Little Taylor ducked beneath the windowsill. I stood so that I might see her. She was crouched with her hands over her face and her knees were next to her hands. She was so small.
I didn't know what to do. Is this what Danny felt like with me?
Little Taylor came back up to the windowsill and my heart just dropped. There were tears coming down her cheeks, but I hadn't heard a sob from her yet. She was tough.
"Um. You found my dad and you did what hunters do, so… so you're not a stranger." Little Taylor sounded like she was on the verge of breaking. "Um. My name is Taylor Hebert. It's nice to meet you." Little Taylor even gave a lopsided curtsy.
I made a show of raising my eyebrows in surprise, then wrote down three words.
"I know this word." Little Taylor wiped her nose and pointed at the second one. "This is my name." I nodded. "And this is that one. So this one is tee, oh, oh."
"Oo." I made the sound. If simple letters had made it through, then maybe that sound could as well.
"T-oo?" Little Taylor looked at me. I nodded. "Me Taylor too?"
I nodded again and crouched so our faces were level. There was a memory near the surface, one where Gascoigne had measured his strength to give his daughter a playful tug on the ear after she did something good. That time she had found the music box and given it to me before I left to hunt. I let the memory take over and reached past the threshold of the window. Little Taylor shrunk away at first, so I paused. After a moment I resumed moving, but more slowly, and she didn't shrink away.
My fingers found her ear and tugged lightly. Then I retreated, stood at my full height, and pulled the window as open as it could go.
Little Taylor was stunned, no doubt reliving the moment as vividly as I was. Then a harrowing moan filled the air.
"Auntiee!" Little Taylor rushed me and wrapped her arms as far around my waist as they could go through the bars. Her tiny arms held on with all the strength they could muster, and the small force locked me there as she cried.
With that, the memory fled. There was no Gascoigne whispering in my ear to look after his daughter, to return as the long dead aunt and be there when no one else could. These were echoes of memories, not even clear ones. Tiny fragments of lives that probably didn't even make up one percent of who they were, shattered and siphoned away in one of six vague ways, just to make me strong.
This was undoubtedly me. I was the one who was deciding to look after little Taylor. I chose to try and make up for the terrible hurt I'd done to her. I didn't know where little Annette was, but little Taylor couldn't stay here. My bugs had been nosy, and there wasn't too much incense left in this place. There was enough for a time, but she'd run out eventually.
She needed to get to Iosefka's clinic. I would take her there.
But for the time being, I was trapped by a crying girl hugging me for dear life through some window bars.
~Drip~Drip~
***t*n* ********
We did some more text to speech communication before we went. I asked if little Taylor was alone. She was, which I already knew. I asked for family and friends, and that's what finally got her to tell me about little Annette. When I asked where she was though, little Taylor didn't know.
Then she started asking me how I could possibly be here, since I was dead. I humoured her distraction and wrote the word 'alive' which turned into another short lesson for her to get the v right. When she was done I tapped my chest and smiled. Little Taylor did that thing kids always do and tried to go down the rabbit hole of why? why? why? But I insisted by writing: Later. New line. Safety first.
I wasn't sure I could tell her the truth, anyway. My side was too convoluted to write down succinctly, and it didn't seem like she had the details of the other Taylor's death. That I could understand. Gascoigne seemed like the type of person who wouldn't traumatise his children by telling that story anyway, which was a point towards me coming to terms with this not-relationship.
Right before we left the house I knelt in front of little Taylor. She was wearing a faint red dress. It was light enough that it almost seemed pink. Her hair was messy, so I made it neat. I made sure my hand was clean of blood first. She had white ribbons in her hair that I ended up needing her help with, on account of my hand. When that was done, I had her face me and help me put a beautiful red jeweled brooch on her dress.
She shut down when I pulled it out, but I didn't know any better way to break it to her. If I didn't get it out of the way, it was going to eat at me. I couldn't have something like that on my conscience. Little Taylor held the brooch as I got the clasp done. When it was done, I wrapped her in a one and a half armed hug.
After a minute, she put her arms around me as well. A memory of Gascoigne swept by and I kissed my not-daughter on the head, which signalled to her that it was time to move. The hug was mutually broken, I took her hand with my own, and we walked out the door.
I stopped, confusing little Taylor. Then I pointed with my stump.
My swarm was hiding at the moment. When I pointed, a few cockroaches and flies carried the music box little Taylor had given me, with another few bugs winding it up. Little Taylor shrieked and fled behind me. I didn't let her escape my hand, and waited for her to calm down a bit.
"Auntie." Little Taylor had decided to call me that. I wasn't sure how I felt about it yet. "Can we get away from those bugs, please?"
I released her hand and the handle of the music box at the same time. As the haunting melody pierced the otherwise quiet air, I gently pushed little Taylor to where she could see the show I was putting on. She frowned when she heard the music, then squealed again when she saw bugs moving in patterns.
I had flies that were bobbing in time with certain notes. Some followed one particular chime, while some more followed another. I had groups for each note and had them pretty well mixed. Anyone looking would see a clear pattern there. Cockroaches were running in circles, and were varying speed based on the tempo of the song. A good host of the rest of my swarm was arranged in letters spelling out my name.
"I don't like this." Little Taylor said. "Why are they doing that?"
I nudged her and directed her to where several beetles, flies, ants, and more were spelling out our name.
"Taylor?" She read out. "But how?"
The Taylor bugs rearranged to point at me.
Wide eyes turned up at me. Her wide mouth caught between amazement and disgust. "You?"
I nodded.
"You're really something, auntie."
A trace of a smile gathered at my lips. I had the bugs that weren't performing retreat while pulling the music box closer. Taylor backed away as they approached.
"They're icky." She told me.
I chuckled and had them maintain a distance from us, but I kept them playing the music. Then I took little Taylor's hand and started walking her to Iosefka's clinic. I purposefully took her around the far side of the fountain where I slew the brute and ripped out his insides.
Before we passed the burning beast pyre, I had the bugs spell out 'cover eyes'. It took a few minutes, but Taylor eventually got it and covered her eyes with the arm that didn't have a hand holding mine. Then I walked my not-niece down the street where I must have killed thirty men.
My swarm was kept near the fringes of my range for the entire walk. Normally I would have had to slow my gait, but this time I was slow anyway to accommodate little Taylor's short legs. Quickly enough, we were walking into Iosefka's clinic and I tugged on Taylor's arm to let her know she was safe to uncover them.
I don't know if she peeked, and I hoped she didn't. She wasn't acting like she'd just walked past thirty corpses, but she had also just been told her mom and dad were dead. What was someone supposed to act like when they were told that. When my Annette died, I shut down, I cried, and it took me a long time to figure out how to act again. Taylor seemed to be doing what I did, but her situation was so much worse.
And she was so much younger too.
"This place is very… scary." Little Taylor said. At least she was talking. It would help her cope.
We were in the lower operating room, and I kind of agreed. It was covered in a bloodstain that never seemed to go away and it was where the first beast I killed had killed me twice. Thankfully, the beast itself hadn't ever come back.
I moved a lamp to an operating table and used the light to see as I wrote another message. I didn't show Taylor, this one wasn't for her.
I took Taylor's hand again and lead her up the stairs where I knocked on Iosefka's door.
"Hello, good hunter." Iosefka's smooth voice came through the door just fast enough to be unnerving. "She's safe with me now, I presume you're to thank? The treatment is going well, stabilized, for the most part. Fascinating, really…"
I peered through the window at Iosefka's face. She was talking about the old woman I'd given the note to, and was deadly serious. Which meant something didn't add up.
"We had an agreement, I haven't forgotten. Here you are. With a bonus." Iosefka handed a familiar orange vial through the broken pane."
I accepted the vial, only hesitating enough that I kicked myself for being a goddamn addict. She passed through two blue bottles that I didn't know the purpose of. It wasn't the time to ask any questions, so I just stowed them away. Then I handed something through the window myself, the message I had just authored.
A little girl needs someplace safe.
Iosefka hummed as she took her time reading my scrawl. "And where is this little girl?"
"Are you talking about me?" Little Taylor asked.
"Ah, is that the one? One moment, hunter." Iosefka stepped away from the door and I heard the sounds of bustling. I looked through the window to see Iosefka busily going back and forth in the room, sometimes disappearing further into the building, and always carrying something different. Everything she carried was something I didn't recognise, but Iosefka was a tinker. So… fair.
Then Iosefka was back at the door. "I apologize, I just had to ensure that any infection would not travel farther than this room. All for the patients, you see. All for the patients."
"Are you going to leave me with her?" Little Taylor asked in a small voice.
"I'm sorry." I told her, knowing she wouldn't comprehend the words, but she'd feel the tone behind them. I don't know anywhere safer.
"It's nothing to apologise for." Iosefka said as she turned a lock in the door.
"I don't want to stay here. It's creepy and dark."
Iosefka pushed the door open. "Come here, young one. There is nothing to fear." Her voice was an attempt at soothing, but far too eager.
I reflexively pushed little Taylor behind me and Iosefka's creepy tone was not why I reacted that way. The moment the door opened, it was like a veil had lifted from the world. There were bugs inside the clinic that I hadn't been aware of until the door opened, and some of them were hibernating.
The only hibernating bugs in Yharnam were the ones I made hibernate. They weren't infesting the clothes of an old lady, they were dumped in a pile in the corner of a room at the fringe of my range. Yet I couldn't find any old lady at all. What I did see was in that same room, through the eyes of my bugs, were two blue creatures that were very much not human.
