[It was like waking from a dream, as cold and deep as the ocean.
This body wasn't what his body was supposed to be, anymore. Two arms, two legs, ten deft fingers to wield weapons and firearms alike. This was the body of Vincent the Hunter, before he was reborn as something... else. Something infant and small, but with a vast mind, uncaring for the struggles of man. Or, one day perhaps, to guide and influence them when his power grew.
It was like a rubber band snapping, throwing him back into a smaller mind. A former life. He shouldn't be shaped like a human again, and when he is, it confuses him. His humanity rushes back to him in a whirlwind, his memories, his time during the longest night of his mortal life known as the Night of the Hunt. He was... himself again, but he wasn't.
Strange, how panic bubbled in his chest. He felt it rise and swell, and suddenly being himself was so much more familiar again. He remembered himself. He remembered how to use that bow on his back, how to fire the weapon that hung on his hip. The city of Yharnam looked odd in the rising sun, casting long shadows along its streets and alleyways -- Vincent stops to admire the sight despite himself, taking in the city in a way he had not been able to appreciate before.
And then, he sees a door. A door that looks rather out of place; and after all that's happened, he felt almost obliged to investigate. And so he does. The door pulled open, gently, and he takes in the strange sight on the other side.
So there stands a very confused hunter, hovering in the entrance of the Midnight Grind. Another dream? he wonders, if only briefly.]
for monts!
This body wasn't what his body was supposed to be, anymore. Two arms, two legs, ten deft fingers to wield weapons and firearms alike. This was the body of Vincent the Hunter, before he was reborn as something... else. Something infant and small, but with a vast mind, uncaring for the struggles of man. Or, one day perhaps, to guide and influence them when his power grew.
It was like a rubber band snapping, throwing him back into a smaller mind. A former life. He shouldn't be shaped like a human again, and when he is, it confuses him. His humanity rushes back to him in a whirlwind, his memories, his time during the longest night of his mortal life known as the Night of the Hunt. He was... himself again, but he wasn't.
Strange, how panic bubbled in his chest. He felt it rise and swell, and suddenly being himself was so much more familiar again. He remembered himself. He remembered how to use that bow on his back, how to fire the weapon that hung on his hip. The city of Yharnam looked odd in the rising sun, casting long shadows along its streets and alleyways -- Vincent stops to admire the sight despite himself, taking in the city in a way he had not been able to appreciate before.
And then, he sees a door. A door that looks rather out of place; and after all that's happened, he felt almost obliged to investigate. And so he does. The door pulled open, gently, and he takes in the strange sight on the other side.
So there stands a very confused hunter, hovering in the entrance of the Midnight Grind. Another dream? he wonders, if only briefly.]