[h3]Eastern Central Yharnam[/h3]
“Once upon a time, maybe, but not anymore,” Gerlinde mused without taking her eyes off the moon. “We all used to not matter, we were all worthless once, and perhaps we were even once poppets... but not now. Now we're immortal superhumans that can travel across time, space and levels of reality, with access to resources beyond what even Byrgenwerth or the Choir ever imagined. I mean, our host back in the Dream is a literal god... sort of. We're already incredibly important just by virtue of what we are, and now that we have the Mask Rune we're hardly poppets anymore either.”

Torquil just kept up with the rest of them in silence, his eyes lowered to the ground just a meter or two in front of his feet. For once his right hand was free; he had taken some inspiration from his companions' attire to improvise a way to store his axe, and though he lacked the skills in crafting that particularly Farren seemed to have, he had been capable of turning a simple leather strap into a loop to hang the weapon from. He listened, absorbing what was being said wordlessly, all while still trying to process the strange visions he had had when he had been overwhelmed with Frenzy.
And the fact that he was so preoccupied alone was even further cause for him to ponder. He disliked thinking and trying to figure things out to the point where he had just assumed and accepted that he was just stupid... but there was something about this that he just could not let go. Something about the feelings stirring in his heart when he recalled those eyes staring into his.
At this point, Torquil genuinely just hoped they would get attacked by some kind of monster soon so he would be distracted from his own thoughts, even just for a little while.