She quirks her eyebrow ever-so-slightly at the name, but otherwise offers no sign of recognition. You hurriedly put your game face back on while pondering possible explanations. Maybe she's Hope's twin sister who wished to be a real girl?
"Not where I'm from, they shouldn't. Ye're lucky; a corpse here is a corpse. Corpse back home's just another potential enemy. But ye're not a corpse now, are ye, lassie?"
You're having rather more trouble than you expected staring down someone this much taller than you.
"I'd give the line a seven out o' ten as far as badass intros go, though. Ye've certainly got the implied-"
Her sword is on your neck. You didn't even see her draw it.
"Do you intend to talk me to death?" she says, her hostility so alien in that familiar voice.
You shrug, maintaining eye contact even as the blade threatens to turn your throat and hers into a matching set. "Can't blame a guy for bein' amiable."
"You did not come here to be amiable. You did not slaughter the Failures to be amiable. Either come forward or leave; I've no taste for banter."
"'Failures?' Come on, no need ta kick 'em while they're down. They did their best."
"Come forward or leave."
"Look, before we start dukin' it out, there any chance ye know a fellow named Gehrman? Or 'is friend who's a doll?"
The pressure on your neck eases up.
"She goes by 'Hope' now. Ye look just like 'er."
This gets a real response; she frowns and takes a few steps back, still within her own striking distance but outside yours. Her eyes flick to Simon as she begins circling you in predatory fashion, subtle movements keeping you between her and the bowman.
"Where is he now? And what do you mean by 'doll'?"
"He's doin' well for 'imself. Got his own little Dream Workshop that lets Hunters come back ta life every time they die. As far as Hope, I'm bein' literal when I say she's a doll. Looks like ye, but she's got ball joints and is made o' wood or somethin'. Figured it'd be rude ta ask for specifics." You give her an appraising look. "Speakin' of, ye look dashin' in a bonnet."
She laughs, a hoarse and hateful burst that lingers in the still air like smog.
"Oh, my beloved teacher. That would be his dream, wouldn't it? A Maria who will not leave him, will not judge him." She turns her back to you and walks stiffly back to her chair; her little stunt with the arrow makes your chances of a successful sneak attack very obvious. Upon sitting back down, she places her elbows on its armrests and looks you over with legs crossed. You try very hard not to think any Basic Instinct thoughts . "Did you kill any patients besides the Failures?"
"No. Managed ta skip all that mess."
"What do you intend to do?"
"Keep movin' forward until we find answers."
"And when you find them?"
"End the Nightmare, then finish endin' the nightmare-with-a-lowercase-n in the wakin' world. Made some damn good progress on that front."
She gives you a genuinely sad smile. "If you are not trapped here, then wake. Slay the monsters, save the maidens, be a hero. Make your world a better place. Grow old in peace and die with a smile on your face. There is nothing for you here, Good Hunter. Nothing but mistakes best left buried." The smile drifts away, leaving only her cold stare. "I simply request one thing of you on that journey."
"And that is?"
"Ask Gehrman the price of his Dream."
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