The thick wooden doors of the workshop are closed for the day, the occupants of the dream spending time with the Hunter on his self-appointed 'day off.'
The Hunter lays draped across the Doll's lap, sighing contentedly as she runs her long fingers through his dark neck-length hair. Quork lays in front of them, giving a happy, quiet caw as the Hunter ruffles her feathers.
Adam sulks by the fire, his tiny face looking peeved.
The Hunter struggles to keep still. He has a rather unique relationship with the Doll, who he refers aloud to as Karina. She almost takes the role of a mother, yet she still has an air of a young woman about her. Her ability to increase his strength coupled with the frightening amount of her own only serves to draw him closer. It is bliss to let her take a protective role after a long hunt.
But as time passes, the Hunter has become restless. His chest feels full to bursting, and the only time relief comes to him is when he is next to her. Over time, even that did nothing to make the feeling subside. He has to fight to reign himself in, to keep from burying himself in her arms the moment he returns.
She is something new, something that has never existed before. Should he share his feelings? Would she even be able to return them? If she could, who is to say that they are real? After all, she herself had said: "of course, I do love you. Isn't that how you've made me?"
He sighs, rolling over to face her stomach and wrapping his arms around it. As it is now, he could do such a thing, and she would only assume it is platonic affection. But if he should tell her his feelings, she would assume it is always more than that. The Hunter's head spins, once again thinking in circles.
The Doll moves him off of her lap, walking over to the large chest used for storage. She pulls out a thin matress and drags it to the fire, pushing him out of the way with her foot. Once it is in place, she plucks him from the floor, gently tossing him onto it.
She lays down next to him, wrapping her shawl around him the way he likes.
"Karina."
"Hm?"
The Hunter pauses, unsure of what to say. "The other hunters... What did they think of you? Of all of this?"
"I do not understand." She frowns.
"How did they view the hunt? Were they hunters out of a sense of duty? Pleasure? Bloodlust?"
She is silent for a moment, contemplating.
"In the beginning, it was out of necessity. The streets were being overrun, and many citizens became hunters to quell the growing tide of beasts, lest they lose their home.
As time wore on, the hunters used me to grow stronger and stronger. They sook more powerful foes to gain more echoes, and in doing so, came to rely on healing blood. Each and every hunter would soon become a beast, retaining their power and forcing unturned hunters to grow stronger.
It was a vicious cycle.
The time came when the odds became near insurmountable. Incredibly powerful hunters roamed the streets, fewer citizens were left, fewer still willing to become hunters. The streets ran red, and Yharnam slowly descended into madness.
I am part of the dream, a mere doll. A replica born from the mind of a great one, albeit a replica with conciousness. I helped hunter after hunter grow in strength, soon realizing that when they were long absent, they had turned into beasts. Why would I even cross their minds, if I appeared to be a mere tool to increase their strength? Such is my only purpose.
Eventually, the few hunters that returned became more and more ragged with each visit, and they even forewent talking to others. They had become mechainical, like their weapons. They became their weapons, existing only to kill, to strengthen, kill, strengthen...
One day, towards the end of the hunt, there was but one hunter left. Eileen and Djura had long since been freed, their then-young eyes dark with insight on horrific truths both eldritch and human. This hunter had begun to talk to me, to acknowledge me. But I saw the truth in his eyes. He had no one left, and he never truly beleived in my personhood.
He talked of his wife and children, some grown, some newly born. He was from a far away land, here to recieve healing blood for an illness that plagued his bloodline. A sickness was in his brain, and with each beckoning of the moon it grew in him and his children. Once he had finished his hunt, he returned to his homeland with powerful healing blood for his children, but at a terrible price. A sickness of the brain cannot be reversed. He may have won the hunt, but he had all but lost his mind to illness, insight, and beasthood. I pray he managed to stave off his bloodlust, at least until he could treat his children...
That was over two decades ago, near as I can tell. Here I have waited as the messengers search for those strong enough for the hunt. With no one to guide, Gehrman remained unseen, and I remained unmoving."
She finishes her tale, settling into silence.
The Hunter struggles to keep himself even.
To be alone, despite being among so many people, later to be alone with none... What cruel god could give such a fate to such a caring person? And to the hunters who cared only of their strength, and their addiction... His heart burns with rage. He wishes pain and misery on their souls. To use her, their savior and caretaker, to only strengthen themselves and cast her aside?
The Doll notices the scowl on the Hunter's face. "It matters not, now," she whispers.
"They are gone, and you are here. I had no one, and now I have you. I felt nothing, but now I am happy." She tightens her grip on him, hiding her face in his hair.
He remains silent, heart pounding with fear and apprehension. Finally, he speaks.
"Karina... You are human in all ways but one. Your body. You feel joy, sadness, lonliness, mirth, love. But... Can you truly feel love? Not a mother's love, nor a friend's, but the love shared between a man and a woman?
"I can," she responds.
"How could you know?"
"Because I can feel it now," she responds simply.
The Hunter blinks uncomprehendingly.
"How? For who?"
She sighs. "For you, you fool of a hunter."
The Hunter is silent, the revalation sinking in slowly. He then slowly brings his eyes to meet hers, seeing no deception, no confusion.
Only love.
He clutches her tightly, taking great breaths, as if he had narrowly escaped death. Pulling back and bringing his forehead up to hers, they stare at each other. Then, as if practiced, they both lean in at the same time, tilting their heads in opposite directions.
Their lips touch, and the Hunter is shocked to find that her lips are soft, so incredibly soft that they are indescribable. They cannot be real. They are warm, and they grow to be almost hot. They are so beautiful, so perfect, so decadently, blissfully, unbelievably soft that the Hunter cannot help but shiver in ecstasy. He can feel her hands tightening on his back, trembling.
Her long legs wrap around his, and he is once again shocked to find them growing warm, warm, warmer. "I love you too," He breathes. "Thank you. Thank you for helping me, for guiding me, for strengthening me. Thank you for giving me something to fight for."
She locks her legs around him, her frightening strength barely contained, squeezing him, causing slight pain but oh-so-much more pleasure.
She takes his head in her hands, pulling away. "You are not returning to the hunt at the end of this 'day,' nor tomorrow. You are mine here until I tell you to leave."
"I don't want to leave at all," he says.
She mock-frowns. "But you must. Even I could not suffer you all day, every day."
The Hunter smiles. "All the more shame," he replies in a whisper.
"Because I could suffer you for all time."
