Reception, the Hunter's Clinic, in the outskirts of Yharnam
“Just... faded out, into nothing. Look: no blood spatters, no corpse, no evidence at all...” Ophelia pointed out, gesticulating with her spear as she spoke to point at the various bits of evidence (or lack thereof).
“After what that bell did to us, well... Safe to say I have no idea what happened. Can you see them, Victor?” Ophelia followed up, pointing toward the messengers near her and crouching to read the scroll that they held before her.
Victor looked at where Ophelia was pointing, and seemed increasingly uncomfortable with what was going on. “I don't even... What... See what?” He shook his head. “What am I supposed to see?”
As Ophelia crouched, the Messengers unrolled the scroll to show its contents. It was the same nice, stylish handwriting as the first note they had received from the Messengers, though this one seemed a little messier, as though it had been written in haste, and it did not rhyme. It read:
“
Your companion is alive, he has awakened in the Dream.”
'Faded out...' Farren repeated silently, the thought making him frown as he glanced at where Ophelia had gestured. There really was no evidence of Torquil, like he’d turned into some phantasm and vanished body and all.Then Ophelia mentioned seeing them and Farren looked up and over at where she was pointing even as she crouched. His eyes widened fractionally, then shifted into a more neutral expression, so he wasn’t the only one who could see them. Though…apparently Victor couldn’t, strange…
“Ah…yeah, there are these…small shriveled up creatures scattered about in small groups,” Farren said, even as Victor started to display signs of discomfort.
“I’d assumed it was a side effect of the transfusion, but…it hasn’t faded since I woke. Wasn’t sure if anyone else could see them,” Farren explained, his eyes shifting over to the center of the room, landing on the lamp.
“...not to mention that lamp…” he added, trailing off as he gestured with a slight nod of his head.
Victor blinked. “Lamp? Small shriveled up...” Then his eyes widened in realization. “Wait, are you saying that you're seeing little men?”
Ophelia gasped as she read what was on the scroll, and her eyes darted immediately over to Farren. “This says that Torquil is alive, and has... 'awakened in the Dream'? I think we're supposed to use the Lantern to join him? But... Victor, it seems, has no idea what we're talking about.” Ophelia opined, her voice almost musical in its wandering tone as she thought aloud.
“They... they didn't just make us normal Hunters, I don't think...” she sighed, exhaling through her nose as she looked expectantly at Victor. If he was from the Church, sent here to help... he should have instructions, or orders.
“Dream?” Victor looked around frantically for a moment, as if expecting a secret world to spontaneously apparate before him, but then simply burst out laughing. “Both of you?
And the third one? Damn it, Dietrich, what is...”
He stopped himself and shook his head incredulously. “You definitely don't
sound like normal Hunters. I think I need to take you to the White Workshop as soon as possible. The First Hunter is going to want to speak with you.”
Farren’s eyebrow cocked slightly at Victor’s description, but he supposed the man had never seen the things, they really weren’t all that man-like as far as he was concerned. Of course, the White Church Hunter’s words were far less strange than Ophelia’s as she finished reading the scroll that the creepy–but strangely helpful–creatures had offered up. Both eyebrows rose, then fell in concentration as he tried to remember if he’d heard tell of any hunters saying something like that before.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Farren let himself drift through the blank space of his mostly empty mind. Largely deprived of memories he could do little else but grasp about in the metaphorical dark. There were flashes of remembrance, fragments of conversations overheard and even one or two instances of sordid notes written covertly to pass along gossip. He'd not paid much attention at the time, but now...now it seemed that his proximity to Hunters and the others who served and equipped them did him some good.
Farren's brow furrowed slightly, his eyes opened and he shook his head slightly. “Perhaps it is best we speak with him, then...” Farren said, not elaborating on whether he'd managed to recall anything in particular. “...it's sure to be illuminating.” He paused briefly, frowned slightly, his eyes shifting to the lantern once more, “But what of Torquil and this...so-called Dream?”
Ophelia thought for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration.
“There was a message in the room where we woke up, further down. It said this was all for the attention of the First Hunter, so it seems sensible that we meet with Dietrich... though something about this message was... urgent, I feel. I want to make sure it's telling the truth, that Torquil really is alright. Could you perhaps go and fetch Dietrich for us, dear? Or would you prefer to wait here while we sojourn to this 'so-called Dream'?” Ophelia asked, shifting the conversation towards Victor. She was suspicious of his timing, but not of him--still, it was best to be careful. Their advantage would decline the more who knew about them--that was true for the White Church too. They would all be inclined to keep this as direct as possible, she thought.
“Go fetch...” Victor started repeating her words, then blinked and balked at the thought. “You don't know where we are, do you? The White Workshop is in the Upper Cathedral Ward... pretty much on the
other side of Yharnam! We made that trip once already, I'm down to my last blood vial, and I doubt it's going to get safer after the sun sets.”
He grimaced. “I'd prefer that you didn't go anywhere, but... I suppose if you have to go, I'll just wait here.”
Farren raised an eyebrow at Ophelia’s suggestion to ‘fetch’ the First Hunter, it was…patently ridiculous. He may not have had the bulk of his memories, but he had seen enough when he was outside to know that even to ask was more than a little foolish. If that weren’t enough…why would someone as important as that drag their way across the entirety of Yharnam just for them, no matter how ‘special’ they might be, as hunters went. He shook his head slightly, and couldn’t help but burst into a brief chuckle. The sound was low in his throat as he shook his head. Idly, Farren slipped his blades into their makeshift holders and then ran one hand through his hair again, as he massaged one of his temples with the other.
“We should see what it has in store for us,” Farren said…
“...if only to confirm that Torquil is there. Besides, it would be…safer to have four rather than three of us, if we’re going to make the trek across the city.”As much as Farren didn’t much like going into this so-called Dream accessible only to certain hunters, a Hunter’s Dream he supposed, he figured it couldn’t hurt terribly to go. At least not more than it would to cross the surely Beast infested streets between here and the Cathedral Ward.
Though he could not hear it…some forgotten part of him raved and scratched at the metaphorical barrier between it and Farren’s present self, its existence an unseen, cautionary tale to what could happen when curiosity was allowed a place at the table.
It was a shame he couldn’t hear its wailing voice. A shame indeed.
“Five rather than four,” Victor corrected Farren resignedly, unhappy with where things seemed to be headed but accepting of the fact that he was powerless to change it. “I didn't come here alone. Another Hunter is guarding the elevator that's the only way up here; he'll join us once we get there.”
Ophelia blinked once, then again a half-second later, as though registering new information. She truly hadn't given any consideration to where they were, such was the lure of her curiosity.
“I'm sorry, dear--the ministration... You're right, it was a foolish suggestion. Well... if you want to collect yourself, rifle through the corpses for anything useful... I believe the huntsmen here found some blood in another room - if you look there, perhaps some yet remains? Might be useful for our journey back...” Ophelia offered before heading over towards the lantern. She looked at Farren expectantly, beckoning him over with a nod of her head, before she gazed into the lantern's pale gleam with the intent to arrive at this Dream.
“Might as well,” Victor sighed with a shrug. “I should probably also work on barricading the door so the next pack that comes by to steal the sleepers won't have quite as easy a time of it.”
As Ophelia went to look at the lantern, the blue light coming from it seemed as though it gradually expanded, filling more and more of her vision and erasing her perception of the world around her. She felt a peculiar calm settle over her, with all her pain and worries slipping from her mind, and she quickly started to feel drowsy. After looking at it for two seconds, she was probably quite aware that unless she looked away, she would fall asleep. After three seconds she actually nodded off, and in so doing just faded away.
“Gods help me,” Victor muttered, staring at the woman spontaneously dematerializing before his eyes.
A moment later Farren went and did the same, experienced the same process and faded away as well, leaving Victor with no one but the dead and sleeping for company.
The Hunter's Dream
Strangely first Ophelia and then Farren, rather than experiencing a state of sleep, immediately felt themselves transition from falling asleep to waking up... only when they awoke, they found themselves slouching in an entirely different place than before. They found themselves on an old, rough-looking cobbled path flanked by shrubs and weeds, among which stood scattered, disorderly and mismatched gravestones all over, intermingled with mostly leafless trees.
To their right, past a tall, wrought-iron fence was a single, massive tree, the leafless branches of which spanned the area around it imposingly, with several impressive statues erected in its shade. Beside the tree, a lone house sat atop the sloped landscape on their side of the fence, where the path seemed to lead, transitioning to a set of stone stairs to reach its front door, with unusually large, flat and relatively similar-looking gravestones arranged to the right of the stair, each on its own small alter-like platform without raising it beyond reach.
At the foot of the stairs and to the right of the path was a birdbath, which appeared to be overflowing not with water, but with Messengers.
Trying to look to the distance somewhat broke the seeming normalcy of this place, however, as beyond the limits of this cozy little cemetery the ground seemed to simply fall away, instead opening up into a vast span of nothing but mist or clouds that stretched as far as the horizon and beyond. The only indication that there was something below this cover of clouds was strange pillars in the distance, rising far into the sky, and much smaller, jutting wooden poles below and among them, like the masts of sunken ships in shallow waters.
Just ahead of them were three figures right on the path they found themselves on, two of which were facing them as if expecting their arrival. One might have appeared to be a tall, beautiful woman in fine, almost noble-looking clothes, with perfect white skin like porcelain... except another glance might reveal that her seeming perfection owed to the fact that she was, in fact, a doll, though an animate, seemingly living one such; her skin was not like porcelain, it
was porcelain. She had a submissive stance, her hands folded over her stomach and the gaze under her cute little hat downcast.
Beside her sat the second figure in an old, worn wheelchair, apparently reading a book, though whether this was truly what they were doing would be hard to determine. The figure was clad in a full set of the traditional Hunter's garb, only with the addition of a blindfold that naturally covered their eyes.
Standing in front of these two strange figures was a more familiar one, however, as even with his back turned Ophelia and Farren would likely recognize Torquil's frame. Quite notably he appeared not only unhurt, but clean and almost presentable; even his clothes seemed to have been restored. Examining themselves would lead Ophelia and Farren to discover that they, too, had appeared in the Dream restored, cleaned and with their apparel mended.
Interestingly, Ophelia – arriving a moment before Farren – would initially see the sky of this place clad in scattered clouds that seemed bathed in the same oranges and reds of sunset as she had seen in the waking world. As Farren arrived however, not only would he feel a strange tremor in his very blood as he awakened, the sky would also seem to suddenly warp and change. Within seconds the clouds had raced off over the horizon, the sun and its light had fled entirely, and it their place an enormous full moon had ascended to over their heads, bathing them all in its pale light.
Both the figure in the wheelchair and the doll looked up at this, seemingly taken aback by the sudden change. Torquil seemed too distracted to notice, and was ponderously rubbing the side of his jaw.
“Good Hunters,” the doll called to them softly, finally prompting Torquil to first look up, then turn around and see the others, which immediately brought a big smile to his face. “We welcome you to the Hunter's Dream, but... pardon my confusion. I have never seen the sky change like that.”