"And that," Balyn said, "made getting past him an absolute beast."
The hunter wiggled his eyebrows, though his half-smirking twist of the lips was concealed by the cloth mask covering the lower part of his face. The Doll, however, did not respond, not even to tilt her head in one side as she often did at Balyn's more curious antics.
"Ah, well," he said, his shoulders slumping a little. "I'd better get back to it. The night of the hunt isn't getting any shorter."
"Farewell, good hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world."
Balyn turned towards the nearest tombstone. As always, as he approached, a shimmering pool of light opened up at its base and a cluster of tiny, wizened messengers ushered the hunter out of the Hunter's Dream, leaving the Doll standing alone, still and quiet.
For about five seconds.
The light-portal had just begun to face when she whirled towards the tombstone. "You!" she shouted, leveling her finger at the pool, moving so fast her articulated joints clattered with the motion.
Gingerly, one messenger slowly pushed its head up through the light. It pointed to itself, mimicking her head-tilt of curiosity, with an almost hopeful expression.
Hope was not to be found.
"Yes, you! You found this hunter! You gave him the Hunter's Mark! You're the reason I have to stand here listening to his inane prattle and what he thinks are jokes! I swear by the moon, the dream, and the eternal cosmos that if I have to listen to one more pun I will rip you out of that hole and use you to fertilize the garden!"
The messenger didn't yelp, but it did make a sort of burbling gasp and jerked back, startled—whereupon it cracked the back of its head against the tombstone and darkness swallowed it.
Then it blinked, and its eyes opened, parting the darkness. At first it didn't quite understand what had happened. It had been at the Yharnam tombstone, hadn't it? But now it was in the stone bath next to the workshop building with several of its fellows. Its arms were folded over the lip, its head resting on crossed wrists, and it had apparently dropped the Shaman Bone Blade it had been holding up for sale over the edge onto the ground.
A dream… it realized. It had fallen asleep at its post, like the Doll itself occasionally did.
The Doll…
It snuck a glance at her, but she was standing placidly at her usual spot, awaiting the hunter's return without movement or change of expression.
Even so, the messenger wondered if maybe they ought to offer some new inventory to help the hunter along. Maybe a Blood Rock or two, to help Balyn complete his mission as soon as possible and be freed from the Dream. Just to be on the safe side…
~X X X~
A/N: And now we know how Patch 1.09 came to be!
The idea for this omake, with the Doll lambasting the messengers over their choice of hunter, must be credited to (blamed on?) my wife, Tarma Hartley. I believe the appropriate response is "Oh, God, there's two of them!"