“Yes. Indeed…” Tabitha replied, tearing her attention away from Chela and doing her best to not let disappointment show on her face.
“What a familiar name,” Alfred said. “Well, what kind of predicament have we landed ourselves in? Would anyone, by chance, know how we got here?”
Tabitha shrugged. “I remember that I was bound for the city of Yharnam, but then I awoke here.”
“Ah, well then that makes two of us. Two of us with no memory, that is. Oh, and I too was approaching Yharnam. How curious. And you, Ms. Chela?”
Chela’s attention was still absorbed by the room. She abandoned the conversation happening mere feet away, making her way down the hall and to the heavy wooden door on the end of the corridor nearest them. She gave the door a push, but it revealed no desire to budge. Then she fled to the wall with the window. Paying no respect for those who remained dead in their chairs, Chela stepped on top of a decomposing elf’s lap to reach just high enough where her fingers could feel the bottoms of the bars, but not enough to where her hands could lay purchase.
“Right,” said Alfred, watching this performance. “We can converse with her once she’s done with… that.” He turned to look at the creature making a desperate effort not to be heard or seen behind several chairs and bodies that had been haphazardly removed from the orderly precedent set by every other in the room. “What about you?” he said. “Are you also feeling amnesiac?”
Carrion cowered lower in hopes that the bookish-looking man might come to the realization that he’d simply mistaken one of the other cadavers as conscious.
Interpreting her silence and crouched posture as a sign of potential danger, Alfred approached the fortress of chairs and bodies with caution. He took a few, short steps in her direction, stopped, and glanced behind to find Tabitha where he’d left her. He tried on a face, hoping that a pleading expression might intimate to his new acquaintance that he did not wish to approach this unknown variable alone. Tabitha uttered a barely audible “oh,” then took the cue to follow.
Alfred turned back toward Carrion and proceeded forward. “We just want to talk to you,” he said, raising his hands up to appear less threatening. “Just please don’t leap out of there and bite me or something.”
Carrion arched her neck and began backing further into the limited space she’d built for herself. She slid her lips across her teeth to bear them and furrowed her brow in a way Alfred found most unnatural. As he neared, a sound bored its way into his ears until it was clear he was hearing a low growl. Something occurred to Alfred just then, a concept he’d read about animals backed into corners. He was now within 10 paces of her.