Nights passed and the moon grew close, swollen and was claimed the god of the moon herself was holding audience with the life growing in Yharnam's womb. Creatures clutched the apexes of towers and castles, staring at Ancient Pthumeria with a multitude of cold eyes. Unease spread that the sacred blood could not comfort.
"Hold on for a moment, dear hunter." Quincy paused, watching Alfred disappear into one of Yharnam's many alleyways.
Quincy waited patiently for Alfred, scanning the street for any beasts. The moment he and Alfred had left his rented room and returned to the streets, both had been ambushed by two starved, beastly dogs. The once empty rows of houses had probably attracted more beasts looking for prey, and the sounds of the dying doglike monsters had only attracted the twisted huntsmen. Quincy heard splashing coming from the alley, and peeked in to see what his companion was doing.
Alfred had found a nearly full rain barrel, and was carefully washing the blood and grime from their last few encounters off his face and beard.
"Now's hardly the time to worry about cleanliness." Quincy remarked.
"It makes me feel better." Alfred said, wiping a bit of blood off his cheek. "Besides, you must be performing a toilet as well. Whenever we are separated, you come back looking cleaner then when I last saw you."
Quincy sighed.
"You believed me about the dream and stuff when I told you."
"I saw you fall to Beasts and that despicable doctor, yet return unharmed. I cannot doubt my own eyes." Alfred stated flatly, before dunking his whole head in the rain barrel.
"Alfred! You don't know what's in that!" Quincy exclaimed as Alfred came up, shaking off the excess water and removing a handkerchief from his pocket to dry his hair and face.
"I'll take a proper bath once this is over. The worst thing in there is probably some dead insects and grime. Now, about your sudden cleanliness."
Quincy shrugged. "Whenever I'm sent back, my clothes are no longer damaged and I'm no longer covered in dirt and grime." Alfred nodded.
"I'm a bit envious." He said. Quincy frowned, his eyes lingering on Alfred's chest. Despite the Imposter Iosefka having torn through cloth and skin, the Executioner's uniform was undamaged, and lacking any stain.
"Did...did you change your robe?"
"No. I said this was the only one mostly intact-" Alfred's eyes widened, putting a hand on where Iosfeka attacked him. "Quincy…" He started, staring at him with confusion, handkerchief still dabbing his cheek.
"Did Iosfeka kill you?" Quincy asked, realizing how foolish the sentence sounded once it let his mouth.
"She...I thought she had gotten the best of me, yes, but…"
"You somehow ended up back in Cathedral Ward." Quincy jerked his head back at the sound of distant howling.
"We have to get movin'. I think the beasts smell us here." Quincy turned back. "Look, even if you get the Dream's second chances or not, please stay careful, alright?" Quincy furrowed his brow. "I think I have an idea for a little experiment."
-years ago-
Amelia rose from her desk as Logarius entered. "Vicar." He rumbled.
"Logarius." She responded, giving a shallow bow. The Pthumerian made no attempts to hide his slow survey of the room. Amelia had hardly changed the study from how Laurence had arranged it. Finally, Logarius set his eyes on Amelia. Despite her youth, the years since Laurence's death had left her seeming rather careworn. Despite having grown only a few inches since Logarius had met her, she carried herself with maturity and confidence.
"I was wondering why you had summoned me in person from the Executioner's workshop." Logarius's voice barely hid a slight contempt. He, centuries old, having to bend to the whim of a mere child!
The Vicar sat back down, pushing back a wisp of blonde hair from her face.
"I suppose news is slow in coming to the Executioners." She said gravely. "You are unaware of what Micolash has done."
Logarius rolled his eyes. "That giggling freak? What, has he found a new kind of celestial nematode?" The Vicar stared at him coldly, unamused. Logarius realized that despite her age making her one of Alfred's peers, she was far more capable and worldly.
"Micolash and the School of Mensis have taken over the Yhar'Gul village. They openly use the citizens for their twisted experiments." Amelia folded her hands neatly on the desk. "They ignore the power of the Healing Church and have declared themselves the sole heirs to the Cosmos."
"Well. What do you need the Executioners for, then." Logarius said flatly, stroking his beard.
"The Hunters have been disbanded, due to the disappearance of the Beasts after the tragedy in Old Yharnam, and for their crimes against our own people." There was a slight catch in Amelia's voice, and she touched the Golden pendant that hung from her neck. Logarius raised a heavy brow at her omission of Laurence in her recount of the Hunter's crimes.
"The Holy Blades do not have enough numbers to stop the Mensis scholars. The Executioners are the only martial group in the Church left to take on this threat." Amelia finished confidently, fixing Logarius with a determined stare.
"What is your plan, Vicar." Logarius said, his voice impassive.
"You and Henriett of the Holy Blades will take your combined forces to Yhar'Gul and clear out the Mensis Scholars and their abominations, then free the village and the people there from their twisted machinations." Amelia said, pressing a dainty hand to an immaculately written plan on her desk. "The details are written here."
Logarius reached forwards to take the paper. Amelia watched as he scanned it.
"No." He rumbled, dropping the paper on the desk.
"You refuse?" Amelia asked, her voice remaining mild.
"This does not concern the Executioners. We were formed to combat the Vilebloods, not maddened Scholars of the Arcane."
"You would have good people suffer, Logarius?" Amelia said, rising from her seat. "You would refuse to serve your institution and country?"
"It is not our purpose."
"It is a simple task." Amelia said, opening the door. A tall woman entered, tipping her top hat to Amelia.
"I have nothing more to say to you, Logarius." Amelia said, nodding to the woman. "If you do not have it in your heart to liberate a town from evil, I will liberate you from the support and finances of the church. I will give you a week to send a message of compliance. Captain Henriett, dear, please see Logarius out."
"Aye, Vicar." Henriett turned, leaving without even making sure the Pthumerian was following. Logarius left, unsure of what had just transpired. Laurence had left a worthy successor indeed, one even more clever and cunning then he was.
A few minutes later, Henriett returned, looking grim.
"I do not know what we shall do now, Henriett." Amelia admitted. "I cannot risk the Blades."
"You played him well, Amelia. He can't afford to lose funding, not if he wants to get rid of the Vilebloods. Give it a day, and we'll have Yhar'Gul freed in two shakes of a lamb's tail. He won't just abandon his passion project."
Bernice sat in the coach's driver's seat, idly watching the Yharnam citizens pass by. The Fountain that had once dominated the square had been removed in the years that had passed since she had last been in Yharnam. Squinting, she made out the writing on the monument that had replaced it. Resembling a grim stack of tombstones, the moment read:
In memory of those who perished in Old Yharnam, to save us all from the Scourge of Beasts
Bernice clucked, leaning back against the top of the coach.
"Suppose that 'In memory of that night we murdered our own' wouldn't be very nice to say." She murmured.
"Bernice!" Logarius's furious baritone broke the peaceful silence in the square, causing the pigeons and crows to fly off in fear. Bernice snapped back up, hiding her displeasure at the Pthumerian returning so soon. The people strolling in the square, gentlemen in their finest, women in fancy dresses, children reluctantly dolled up, all turned and gawked at the irate giant. Even the horses, who had peacefully been dozing, were startled.
Bernice groaned internally. Some of the ladies strolling by had been quite lovely, and she was hoping to have a moment to get to know one or two better before Logarius returned. Any hope of a pleasant interlude in her plans to overthrow Cainhurst had vanished the moment Logarius had bellowed.
"What happened, Master Logarius?" Bernice asked.
"The Church has betrayed us. Get going." He hissed, stuffing his long body inside the carriage. While Bernice was not an expert in navigating Logarius's temper as Philip once was, she knew when not to press. The horses did not need much urging to go on their way.
"Damn it Philip," She grumbled as the carriage bounced and rumbled along the untidy Yharnam Streets. "Why'd you have to go and muck it all up?"
It had been two years since Philip had left. In time, the keening ache of loneliness for the older boy's companionship had faded. Alfred had tried to grow closer to his fellow Executioners in his absence, but he eventually began to spend more time in solitude. The gulf between Executioner and Blood Saint was becoming too big of a gap to traverse. Gone were the days of brotherly roughhousing and games, the fear of hurting a source of the holy blood was too terrible to imagine.
Sprawled out on the lawn of the Workshop to take advantage of the last bit of sun on a fine autumn day, Alfred had been completely entranced by a book when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye through the iron gate that surrounded the manor. He joyfully sprang to his feet at the sight of Logarius's returning carriage, checking his white church attire over for grass stains or dirt.
"Master Logarius has returned!" He called towards the Workshop, rushing to the gate to be the first to unlock it.
Alfred's sunny demnor quickly turned cloudy at the sight of Logarius's grim face as the carriage passed him. Bernice caught his eye as she halted the coach, shaking her head and pressing a finger to her lips. He huffed at being non-verbally told he was a chatterbox, when he had not said a word!
Logarius stormed up the path like a tidal wave. The excited rush of Executioners who had come to greet their Leader quickly faltered as they too sensed his foul mood.
"How was Yharnam, sir?" Colin asked, his voice high and nervous. Logarius waited until Alfred and Bernice had caught up to his long legged, furious strides to speak.
"Vicar Amelia and the Church have betrayed us all. We have been cut from the funding and support of the Healing Church." His eyes glittered with murderous anger in the dying sunset. "Executioners!" He roared.
The last few stragglers quickly rushed out onto the lawn. Logarius nodded in approval.
"Our holy mission must be completed far sooner than we previously planned. The new and ill prepared Vicar believes that by withholding our rightful tithes she can force us to veer from our righteous path."
The crowd went deathly silent once the meaning sunk in. Executioners looked at each other, confused and worried.
"No more funding?!" Bernice hissed in Alfred's ear. He only nodded, wide eyed. Why would the Church turn on them like this?
"Executioners, it is by the Good Blood that we carry out our holy work. It is the Good Blood that allows us our strength, and it is only to that blood and to Oedon that we serve." Logarius began with great strength, but his volume dwindled as he gained control of his flock. They were not sheep but the dogs that kept the sheep and fought the wolves, and he was the Master that guided them. It was his voice they would answer to, and he would let it ring to the very skies. "The Vicar believes that she holds our leash. She does not understand that we alone are the bulwark against the Vilebloods, and that no amount of withholding our rightful tithes, tithes taken so that we may protect the weak and the holy like herself, will grant her control over us. She cannot and will not veer us from our righteous path. We are not a pawn of her church there only to do her bidding."
As he paused, the more rowdy of his students began to chant and stomp, Alfred cheering loud enough to nearly deafen Bernice. A rare smile pulled at his lips hidden in his beard.
"For she believes we are her soldiers. The College of Menses has stepped outside of its bounds, and we are to keep them in line. The vicar before her would have controlled us just as she had we been any weaker. All this child has done is given us a date. A date by which we must march on Cainhurst! A date by which we will have succeeded in our holy mission! A date by which no more Vilebloods shall walk the earth!"
"You may fear," Logarius continued, his voice rising in volume. "That we are unprepared. Fear not! We have no more limits imposed on us by the Church. All Executioners in the field will be recalled home. All hands will work together to bring the end of the Vilebloods! No traitors," Logarius hissed that last word. "Vilebloods, or those weak in spirit will stop us!"
The assembled Executioners gave cries of derision, knowing that Logarius referred to the Church as much as the departed Philip. Despite being swept up totally in the performance, Alfred felt his heart twinge. Bernice touched his shoulder, a rare show of affection.
"Let the knowledge that the Vilebloods will be ended once and for all sustain you in the coming days!" As the crowd cheered, Alfred stared up at Logarius, starry eyed. Here was his chance to make his dreams come true.
He never saw Bernice's look of concern, then resignation.
-Present Day-
"I wish I had brought you here earlier." Quincy admitted, stepping through the Archway that led into the chapel. Alfred paused before entering reluctantly. The smell of the incense was making his headache worse, and the glare of the multitude of candles stuck on the edges of the walls and in every nook and cranny and chandelier dazzled his eyes.
It was a relief seeing a few of Yharnam's residents alive and huddled in the small Chapel, but his shyness towards entering had a long and justified history. Before Alfred had become a Hunter, he had been very much unwelcome by the citizens of Yharnam, and was downright loathed after joining the hunt. Hunters made the perfect scapegoats for the Church's failings, as they had become the most visible part of the Church after the Vicar and the rest had retreated to Cathedral Ward, leaving the Hunters to take the ire and abuse. And Alfred, being obviously foreign as well as sadly mistrusted by his own fellow hunters, has been a particularly ripe target for abuse from Yharnam's acidic citizens.
"It's alright now." Quincy had sensed his suddenly shyness and reassured him, touching his arm. An elderly woman looked up from her seat at Quincy as they walked in, smiling.
"Hello dearie, did you bring a friend home?"
"Yes, ma'am." Quincy said, shooting Alfred a tired look. "Poor old girl thinks I'm her son." He whispered. "I don't want to upset her, so I just go with it. She hands out sedatives like candy, though."
"Does your friend need anything?" She asked. Alfred stepped back in fear once he recognized her. The old woman was a known battleaxe, shrieking at the Hunters from her home during the hunt about how useless they were. Seeing the woman's twisted features in such a mild expression, her wavery voice sweet and maternal, was perhaps one of the more disturbing things Alfred had seen that night.
"No, he's fine." Quincy said, guiding Alfred away.
"Come back if you need anything, dearie." She said, before going back to holding her head in her hands.
Alfred turned to see a healing church Nun perched upon a pile of rubble, appearing to be praying.
"Hello Adella." Quincy said. The Nun looked up at him, before going back to praying. She gave out a throaty giggle, staring at the floor.
Quincy sighed. "She's gone mad too. I saved her from this awful place, full of these giant men with bags, and she gave me some special healing blood in return, from her own veins! 'Suppose that's a healing church thing."
Alfred swallowed hard.
"Yes, Blood ministry is a part of the Church's practices." He was beginning to want one of the Old Lady's sedatives.
"She called herself a Blood Saint. I think that's a bit odd, but I don't know much about these things." Quincy walked up to the dias, thankfully not seeing Alfred's face go pale. Alfred watched as Quincy knelt by a woman in a red dress, hunched over in pain on a fine chair. Alfred could only barely make out what Quincy said.
"Arianna, are you feeling any better?" He asked softly. The woman shook her head, her pale hair glinting in the candle light and gave out a soft groan.
"Alright. Tell me if there's anythin' I can do." Quincy rose, dusting off his coat.
"Thank you, Dear." Arianna said, pained. She did not even turn to look as Alfred joined Quincy up the stone stairs.
"I see you are quite popular with the ladies here." Alfred said, not realizing what he had said until the moment it had come out. Quincy barked a laugh while Alfred covered his mouth, ears red.
"I'm just being friendly." He said, waving at a hunched man in a red ragged robe. Alfred watched embarrassment spread across Quincy's face as he remembered that the man was quite obviously blind.
"Hello!" Quincy muttered, pulling up his collar to hide his blush from Alfred's smirk. At least they were both equally sheepish about their own missteps.
The man looked up towards the source of the sound, revealing a rather ghoulish face and a smile of broken, crooked teeth.
"Hello! Welcome back, Hunter!"
"Don't mind his appearance, he's quite kind." Quincy whispered. "Now, here is where our experiment begins." He pointed to the center of the dias.
"Now, tell me what you see."
Alfred squinted at the floor.
"I see dusty, immaculately carved flagstones, littered with ashes from the incense and dribbled with candle wax."
"Damn." Quincy sighed, folding his arms. "You won't think I'm mad if I tell you what I see, yeah?"
"Everything tonight has been enough to drive a man mad, Quincy." Alfred began fiddling with the Executioner's gloves, feeling agitated. What on Earth was he supposed to see? Why was he missing whatever it was?
Quincy took a deep breath."I see a strange lantern, trailing small chains with bells tied around the top, surrounded by little wizened fellows prayin to it coming out of the floor."
Alfred stared at him, unsure of what to say.
"I know, it sounds mad." Quincy said. "But if I touch the strange lantern, it takes me to this kind of dream. There's a field of flowers with a strange house, and this woman-no, a doll there, and this old man."
"Are you quite alright, Quincy?" Alfred said, worried. Quincy gave him a nervous grin.
"I'm fine. Look. I'll show you. Take my hand, and maybe it will take us both there."
"To the little house in the dream." Alfred said, deadpan.
"Yes." Quincy said, extending his arm. Alfred took it, despite his reservations. Well, he was curious about how Quincy, and perhaps himself, had cheated death. Perhaps this dream space might hold the key to finding Cainhurst.
Quincy slowly reached his hand down, touching something unseen. Alfred shielded his eyes as a flash of purple light suddenly exploded into his vision. For a brief moment, like the imprint of the sun on his retinas, he saw Quincy touching the top of a Lantern, surrounded by pale, deformed creatures that grasped at his sleeves and coat with great desperation.
The light vanished suddenly as it had appeared, and Quincy had vanished along with it. Confused, Alfred looked around the Cathedral, still not seeing anything Quincy had described.
"Oh, I hate it when he does that." The old wizened man in red shook his head, somehow sensing Quincy's vanishment. "Where does he go off to, now?"
-years ago-
Late at night, long after the other Executioners had gone to their beds, Alfred slipped out from his bunk. Still fully dressed from the day, he had waited until all his peers were asleep before stealing down the hallway, his heart in his throat.
It was said that elder Pthumerians never slept, and Logarius was very old indeed. Any Executioner suffering from insomnia who roamed the halls late at night would often see the warm glow of gaslight from under the heavy doors to Logarius's office even in the earliest hours. Steeling his nerves by the door, Alfred took a deep breath before knocking.
The pause was only a few seconds, but to the young man it might as well have been a lifetime before the wooden doors swung open. Logarius peered down at Alfred, his bearded face unreadable.
"You should be in bed." Was his only response to Alfred's presence.
"I could not sleep, sir." Alfred managed, his voice betraying him with a high pitched crack.
"Indeed. In full Church attire, rather than night clothes." Logarius said, not fooled by Alfred's charade. "I understand if you are afraid for your fellows for the upcoming siege."
"Yes, sir." Alfred humbly bowed. "I wish to give more then just my blood."
Logarius gazed down at him, and began to close the door. Alfred's foot shot out, stopping it. Logarius snorted at this tactic.
"Hear me out, at least. You have been draining me of blood. I have stayed loyal, despite the terrible things Philip said about you! Please, just listen."
"Very well." Logarius said, after a heavy pause. "You may enter."
Alfred stared in awe at the prototype wheel that adorned the office as he walked in, forgetting his purpose for a moment.
"Well, what was it?" Logarius said sharply. Alfred shook his head quickly, to rouse himself from his brief daydream.
"I wish to fight alongside my brothers and sisters." He said, chin held high, bright green eyes filled with determination.
"This again, is it?" Logarius said, sitting at his desk. Alfred did not falter.
"Please, sir, was I not talented? Am I not true?" Alfred asked. Logarius dipped his head slightly.
"I cannot lie to you, Alfred. You were one of my most talented pupils. You have a determination and loyalty that others lack-However!" Logarius interjected as the light of hope began to shine in the young man's eyes. "Fate has made your blood holy, and to spoil your gift would be to spit in the face of the Gods." He arose from his desk, approaching Alfred with long and quiet steps.
"You will stay behind here, supporting us in a way no other could. We all give our blood in some form or another for our crusade, but only you can open your veins so that your brothers and sisters can heal theirs."
"But sir-" Alfred protested. "Let me go to Cainhurst. Even if I do not fight the Vilebloods hand to hand, allow me to be there with my brothers and sisters!"
The Pthumerian knelt to meet Alfred's eye at his own level, silencing him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Should a drop of the vileblood make its way and corrupt your divine gift, we would all suffer for it. You are a good lad, and under any other circumstances, you would have been my finest soldier."
"Exactly-sir, you lack a protege, I could be-"
Logarius snapped back up, looming over Alfred, enraged.
"My Protege? My protege? You think so highly of yourself?"
Alfred shrank back from Logarius, having never been on the receiving end of the Pthumerian's anger.
"Sir, I only meant-" He tried, only to be silenced once more by the furious Logarius.
"This delusion-It's my fault." Logarius rumbled. "You are a fool to believe such a thing, and I am responsible for it. Perhaps I led you to believe that you might march beside us- I humored your fancy, and I have led you astray."
Tears pricked the corners of Alfred's eyes, but he stood firm, trying not to shake.
"No longer! I will no longer allow such delusions to risk our saint. You will serve your role as a blood saint, and when I return from battle, you will serve as one properly. No more illusions that you can ever be an Executioner!" Logarius wrenched open the doors, roughly shoving Alfred out of his office, watching the boy stumble back out into the hall.
"Never speak to me of this again!" He hissed, slamming the doors shut."
Alfred stood, silent and shocked in the hallway, trying not to cry.
"It's dangerous." Camilla argued. Logarius merely folded his hands, uncaring. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the crypt today, Camilla thought angrily. Ever since Logarius had called her into his office that morning, he had only stonewalled her with silence after making his demands.
"This much blood? For Oedon's sake, he's but a child." She added. "If your shriveled heart had any humanity in it-"
"I am not human, Camilla." Logarius snarled. "You have treated me as such since you began working here. Alfred will bounce back. I will not be unprepared when my Executioners march into hell! He has made it abundantly clear that he will give anything to help our cause."
"Because he's a stupid child that worships that ground you walk on!" Camilla sneered. "After this-after you lot kill the Vilebloods or whatever, I'm going back to Cathedral Ward. Without Vilebloods, there won't need to be Executioners."
"Very well. But that blood must be ready before we set off."
"Oi, that's a bit much, Doc." Colin winced as Camilla stuck another needle in Alfred's arm. Alfred did not even wince, staring at the wooden floor boards. This was just another day for him, at this point. The rest of his life seemed to be an endless array of needle pricks, after his dreams were dashed once more.
"I removed your splinter, Colin. You are free to leave anytime." Camilla grumbled, holding the newly filled blood vial up to the light.
"Nah, think I'll stay a bit and keep Alfred company." Colin said, leaning against the wall. "You think a splinter from the Logarius Wheel is holy, Doc?"
"What a stupid question." Camilla remarked, removing another vial of blood. Alfred had trouble thinking of it as his, now.
"What do you think, Alfred, mate?" Colin asked, fiddling with his bandage.
"Oh, I don't know, Colin." Alfred said, eyes firmly trained on a crack in the floorboards.
"Ah, well, it's already been tossed now. Hope it's not bad luck for the siege."
The curtain to the clinic swung open with a jerk, and Logarius decked through the doorway. Colin quickly bowed, surprised to see the Ptumerian.
"You may go, Colin." Logarius dismissed him with a wave of his massive hand. The Executioner bowed once more, and scurried out.
Alfred quickly turned his head away from Logarius, pretending not to see or notice him. The Pthumerian looked over the row of vials Camilla had laid out on the table, nodding his head approvingly.
"You gave all this?" He asked.
"Yes, sir." Alfred said, still not meeting his gaze.
"Still ain't right." Camilla hissed, low enough for only Alfred to hear.
A few more moments passed in silence.
"I am proud of you, Alfred." Logarius said softly. Alfred looked up to see the Pthumerian, smiling at him fatherly. This was the Logarius he knew. The kind father figure.
"Thank you, Master Logarius." He said gratefully.
"I was quite harsh on you." Logarius stood by the room's window, gazing out on the lawn. The trees were shedding their leaves, leaving the woods outside a barren scene of grasping branches and grey trunks. Was there a hint of regret in his voice?
"Perhaps, when I return, I shall rethink your role."
That last sentence kept hope burning in Alfred's heart long after Logarius left the room, and long after he watched the golden procession of Executioners leave.
"Take care of yourself, Alfred." Bernice clasped his hands in a rare show of affection. Camilla had set him in a chair on the front lawn to watch the Executioners leave, unwilling to let him stand after such a dramatic blood drawing
"I will-but there's no need to worry, there's no way the Executioners will fail! I'll see you again soon!" Alfred protested. Bernice frowned, her eyes roving over the thick bandages on both of his arms.
"You never know what will happen." She said grimly, placing the Ardeo on her head.
Executioners waved to Alfred as they passed, following the massive figure of Logarius, clad in his shining golden robe, wielding an enormous Scythe. As the last Executioner filed through the gates, Alfred felt his blood begin to rush. He attempted to stand from his chair, only for his legs to buckle under him. The last thing he heard was Camilla's scream.
"He's gone and blacked out!"
-Present day-
Quincy took in the smell of the white flowers, gazed up at the sky, at the unearthly spires that rose from the clouds that surrounded the fields of flowers, and surveyed the graves that stood about the old house.
"Shit." He sighed, clenching his disappointingly empty hand.
"Welcome back, Good Hunter." The Doll bowed. At first, Quincy had been incredulous that the woman that had welcomed him to the dream was, infact, a doll, but after she had clasped her hands to his own to 'embolden his sickly spirit' he had seen the clever joints and construction of her delicate wooden hands. An unnaturally tall woman dressed in finely made clothes, her face shining with the sheen of porcelain was the perfect inhabitant of such a strange place
"Why couldn't Alfred come here? He's a Hunter, right? Don't they all come to the dream?"
"Only the ones that are allowed in." The Doll said plainly. "I know you desire your friend to dream, but he cannot enter this place."
"Why?" Quincy asked. "He came back from death, just like I did." The Doll nodded.
"Your friend is a part of the Dream, just like you are. But he is not able to dream like you do. He is connected, but it is fraught. He is a man on the very verge of sleep, on the very edge of dreaming." She replied, cryptically.
"Well, it's a relief that Alfred won't be dying anytime soon." Quincy said, sitting on the wall of the stairs. The Doll looked down on him, her face grave.
"I'm afraid that is not the case. Any death could be his last, and fully sever his connection." She said somberly.
"Well. Shit." Quincy massaged his temples. "Bet he's awfully confused right now."
The Doll merely nodded once more, turning her head back to gaze into the cloudy distance. Quincy did the same.
The massive spires that reached from the sea of clouds below were like trees in a sparse forest, but lacked any branches or leaves. Quincy wondered what lay above or below the clouds.
"What is this place, really?"
"A dream." The Doll said simply, in a tone that brokered no further questions. They continued to sit in silence for a while, Quincy grateful for some needed rest.
"Look...this is not like one of them stories where one second here is an hour in the real world, right?"
The Doll tilted her head. "I know not what you mean."
"...What does it matter, this night has been a week long, anyhow."