The still air of the dream shimmers, and the outline of the Hunter slowly appears.
The Doll gathers her skirts, trotting towards him, eager to hear of his discovery. The air shimmers once more, and another, taller figure is outlined, slowly phasing into the dream. The Doll steps back in shock.
It's herself. Her garb and hair are different, to be sure. The Doll's hair is as straight and smooth as silk, pure white like a field of snow. The other woman's hair is blonde, yet so light that one could mistake it for off-white. Her hair is very slightly wavy, swept behind her head into a disheveled ponytail. Her clothes are unmistakably of Cainhurst design; such beatiful, elaborate designs, yet still utilitarian, the durable stitching weaving together thick pieces of cloth and leather to make a long black overcoat.
The Doll reels, stumbling back to sit at her usual perch. Too many thoughts are rushing through her head, leaving her unable to think clearly. "Good Hunter... What is... Who..."
Maria looks on in equal shock. "The old workshop..." She turns to the Hunter. "This is who you spoke of?!"
He nods. Maria takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Well, she is beautiful," she jokes shakily. The Doll looks her over.
"Good Hunter, who is this?" She asks.
"This is Maria, one of the old hunters," he replies. "She's here to help us end the hunt, as well as..."
"As well as?"
"As well as help you. Escape the Dream, I mean," he says. "Maria was once Gehrman's student. It can be no mere coincidence that you two share the same appearance."
The Doll looks up, irritated. "I fail to see how this harlot could help me," she says. "Mere appearances do not grant the ability to do such a thing."
"Harlot?!" Maria says incredulously.
"I'm grasping at straws here, Karina," the Hunter replies.
Maria pinches the bridge of her nose, looking the Doll up and down. "Your hands..." She whispers. "You're a... Doll?"
The Hunter intervenes before a fight erupts. Difficult to tell who would win, really. "This won't happen overnight. But either way, Maria can help us end this nightmare." He looks to her pleadingly, and she is shocked to find desperation in his eyes, his face pleading.
"I suppose," she mutters, blushing. The Doll's eyes narrow, displeased with this turn of events. Walking over to the Hunter, she places a hand protectively on his chest, pulling his head to her own chest. She glares at Maria pointedly. Ally or no, she dislikes her double, thanks in no small part to the fact that she is the only other person in the dream. The Doll had never had to worry about contending for affection; indeed, until recently she had never even felt this sort of feeling. She worries that the Hunter might be drawn to Maria, due to her appearance.
"Fine," she says tersely. "Let us retire to our bed, Dear." She grabs his arm, guiding him. He pulls back.
"Hold on! We need to get Maria settled."
The Doll grimaces, but ultimately relents; like it or not, it is her duty to tend to any hunter who may pass through the Dream.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Maria takes a room on the top floor of the small, newly built village down by the hill. She gently sits on the bed, kicking off her boots to reveal her slender feet, the toenails painted bright red. "I have grown quite accustomed to high places," she confides in the two. "They feel so safe, so isolated from the horrors of the hunt."
The Doll looks at her figure as she slides out of her long overcoat. It slides over her slender shoulders, and the light illuminates the supple curves of her body. She has modestly sized breasts, and her waist is thin and swoops into her ample hips. The Doll's eye twitches. Her own form was nearly identical, but it lacks the luster, the pliability, the life that Maria has. A tearstone drops to the floor as the Doll turns, her shawl fluttering. She runs down the stairs, taking them two at a time before she slams the door open.
It's not fair. Ages and ages, thousands of hunters, all cold and indifferent to her, and when she finally encounters a hunter who sees her not as a tool, but as a woman...
A better her appears. As if from nowhere. The Doll grits her teeth, angry and hurt. How could he even think to bring her here?
She slows to a stop at the small wood behind the workshop, falling to her knees. She hears a tiny groan, and looks up to see Adam looking at her from the messenger bath, frowning. she picks him up and holds him close, tearstones littering the ground beneath her.
Maria gaurds the door, preventing the Hunter from chasing after the Doll. "She needs time by herself. Leave her be for now."
"How would you know?!" The Hunter snaps.
Maria sighs, giving him an exasperated smirk. "Because doll or not, she is still a girl. And girls understand girls."
"Like I said, how would you- AGH!"
Maria slugs his stomach, her height and momentum lifting him slightly. Just like the Doll, Maria's punches pack a wallop.
She sits on the bed, sliding off her opulent leggings, leaving her in naught but a white dress shirt barely covering her panties. The Hunter stands up shakily, and Maria pats the bed, motioning for him to sit next to her. He complies, heart thumping from being so close to one who looks like his love. Maria leans over and wraps her arms around him, and the Hunter draws a quick breath, prepared to push her off. But...
Something stops him. Her embrace isn't sensual, nor mere friendliness. Just like the feeling the Doll gives him, It's romantic, friendly, and motherly all at the same time. Her body, larger than his due to her Cainhurst heritage, is protective, and he involuntarily slides into a relaxed stupor. His arms go slack, his face tingles, and a strange floating sensation overcomes him.
Just like when he is with the Doll. Should he be feeling this way? Is sharing this moment with someone so similar to her considered a betrayal? The circumstances are so unique that there is no clear answer.
Maria is soft despite how toned and lithe she is. She is smooth to the touch, goosebumps rising on her arms as the Hunter lazily caresses her skin. The glow of her skin, the reaction to touch, the smooth, subtle curves, all things that the Doll lacks. It lights a desire in him, a desire that feels different from his desire of the Doll. A desire to nourish her, to care for her every need, to rear young with her... All the previously forgotten urges, the result of millions of years of evolution, come flooding back, powerful and intoxicating.
What if the Doll couldn't change, become human? Would these urges drive him to Maria instead, against his will? The Hunter feels a rising in his chest, and he tries in vain to stamp it down. Maria is already so similar to the Doll... Is it possible that he loves her already...?
His thoughts swirl around his head like angry bees, stinging him with guilt.
Maria and the Doll are two sides of the same coin. Both share appearance, sympathy, and kindness, but their individual personalities are complete opposites. One, prim and proper, quiet and calm. One, Tomboyish and brash, boisterous and mischievous.
The Hunter sighs, drifting off into sleep, cradled in Maria's arms. Unanswered questions, nagging doubts, and paralyzing fears plague his mind as he drifts off, one question dominating all others.
Does he love two people, or one?
