Work Text:
“I… I wish to rest. I know the night will not end, but I… I’m tired. I wish to rest.”
“You may rest upon me if you would like, good hunter. Though it may be a dreamless sleep, it is still rest for the body. You will need it.”
With some apprehension that was quickly overcome by a wave of immense lethargy, the Hunter slowly shifted her position sitting on the stone next to the Doll in favour of resting the side of her head in her lap. The dress was much softer than she’d expected, yet embodied how comfortable and cozy it looked… Made with such care. A vague memory crept into her mind, of elaborate dresses and gown, lavishly embroidered corsets and tightly-bound shoes. And yet… the Doll embodied none of this, but felt familiar all the same.
Fingers ghosted over her hair that was exposed after she’d removed her hat, a gentle knocking as the wooden joints shifted together. The Hunter had never been touched in such a way before… not even by her own mother. The Doll constantly pondered if the love she felt for the Hunter was real, but this certainly felt real. The love and warmth radiated off of her, and when it wasn’t with words it was expressed in full within her actions. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drew in a deep breath as she cherished this feeling. If the night was everlasting… She hoped this moment was an eternity.
Had the feeling of safe comfort not been as overwhelming to her mind and senses, the Hunter knew for a fact she would have wept right about now. It had been so, so long since she had last been held in any regard… But this felt almost as if she was being cradled in the Doll’s lap. She curled her knees up towards her chest and let her head sink further into the flouncy, heavy layers of the dress, being able to feel the unnaturally solid legs underneath despite it all. It didn’t bother her though. The Doll didn’t need to be flesh and blood like herself in order to mean anything to her. Too many times, those who shared that trait wanted nothing more but to spite her, and reject her existence.
The Beasts wanted her dead. Blood-drunk Hunters, as well. Even back home where she’d travelled from, she had been shunned - She was a foreigner there, and she was a foreigner here. Very little changed, in that single aspect.
Except…
The Doll leaned over ever slightly, just enough that the fringe of her shawl draped around her like curtains. The Hunter caught herself reaching out to tug one of the edges closer to herself, seeking its odd warmth. Maybe it was simply her own body heat causing it, but it was far from unwelcomed. She met the Doll’s eyes after humming contentedly, and she was spoken to in a near-whisper, “Rest, good hunter. The waking world will still be as it was, when you awaken. Do not worry.”
Somehow, despite not even knowing it herself, the Doll’s words relieved her exact anxiety that was lurking in her heart. The urge to stay busy. The urge to remain useful.
But no, she still was useful. She had a purpose now - a goal to work towards. Good to do. It was more than she ever could have asked for, and despite the nightmares and the evil that threatened to destroy Yharnam… She found herself grateful for it, for had it not been happening, she may have never known this feeling.
Sweet, sweet peace as her thoughts finally slipped her mind, to leave her in an ephemeral state of emptiness… Aside from what she swore was humming resonating within her weary mind.