Vileblood or no, forget not we are thy queen

She had not seen her yet, but she had heard of her, of course, in her recent days in Yharnam. That familiar doll, that now wandered lost in Yharnam, freed--or severed--from its dream. Eleanor’s own curiosity was aroused, but her queen was very interested in meeting her.

She had it on word she trusted that the doll was residing here, at least for the moment, but so far the street was quiet. Eleanor would rather find her alone than enter the house--whose other occupants she knew little of--but to be honest she had grown tired of waiting. She was almost ready to cross the street and try the door when it swung open gently, and the doll slipped from inside, closing it behind her. The porcelain girl looked quickly up and down the street before settling down on the step.

Eleanor checked again that she was presentable--her long blonde hair tied up neatly, her sword cleaned and sheathed, nothing out of place on the elegant regalia that identified her as a Knight of Cainhurst. She did not wish to present herself as a threat. She stepped out of the shadows and crossed the street, her steps measured and even. The doll was quick to notice her, and Eleanor brought her arm to her chest and bowed slightly as she approached. “Apologies.” She smiled charmingly as she stopped in front of the doll. “I do not mean to accost you so suddenly, but my queen would extend you an invitation.”