#And of course a bit of terrick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrslittletall · 5 years

Text

Title: Keeping it together (Chapter 23) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Silver Knights, Lord's Blade Ciaran, Hawkeye Gough, Great Grey Wolf Sif Word Count: 6.718 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328084/chapters/43960237 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/184296200789/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-22

Summary: Ornstein is working on feeling better.

(Author's note: Last chapter ahead and it is a pretty long one. Please enjoy and thanks for staying with me during this ride.)

After around a week had passed, Gwyndolin finally allowed Ornstein to leave the Dark Moon Tomb. Ornstein had needed that break as much as he hated to admit it. His nausea had subdued and the constant ache in his stomach had greatly tuned down. It now was apparent to him that his sickness had stemmed from him trying to keep it together.

For his injuries, he couldn't do anything about the broken fingers, but that shouldn't hinder him much, at least it was only on the left hand. His bruised leg still hurt a bit, but was on a good way to heal completely, with him able to walk on it quite normally.

Now that Gwyndolin had allowed Ornstein to leave, he was very eager to get back into his armour. In fact, he felt a bit uncomfortable having to walk the distance to the cathedral without it. It was a good thing that the streets were pretty unoccupied. Granted, that might have also been because Ornstein had decided to walk back once the night had fallen. His gaze was on the bright full moon as he walked. Ever since Gwyndolin had taken up the mantle to rule over Anor Londo the moon had been full every single night. Ornstein had never questioned it, they were a god under the protection of the moon overall. It didn't occur to Ornstein how cold the nights in Anor Londo had become.

As Ornstein approached the cathedral, the silver knights standing guard there greeted him.

“Captain, it is good to see that you feel better.”

“Don't worry about the cathedral, we took good care of it in your absence.”

Ornstein thanked them with a smile and made his way to his room, hoping that his armour had been brought there. To his relief, it was there along with his spear. After not being able to wearing it for so long and because Ornstein wasn't tired at all yet, he put it on, only with a little trouble because of the restricted movement of his left hand. After he was done, he picked up his spear and looked at himself in the mirror.

Seeing the fierce expression of the lion helmet instead of his face brimming with his insecurities and anxiety, made him feel a lot better about himself. Gwyndolin was saying that he should be more true to himself, but Ornstein didn't felt anything wrong about using his armour to keep up his composure. He still was the captain of the knights and while he had allowed himself a moment of weakness, it had to be over now.

He adjusted his armour until it fit perfectly and left his room, wandering through the cathedral, greeting any silver knight or servant he saw and eventually stopped in front of the so called silver knight ask box. It looked like there actually were some messages in it. Well, he hadn't checked it for a while now. Ornstein gathered the box and headed for the conference room with it.

When he opened the door to the conference room he first deeply sighed at the sight of the paperwork and then froze because he saw Sira sitting there. Without her helmet for once, working on the paperwork.

“Sira, what...?”, he started and she jerked up, frantically fishing for her helmet and got it on before answering him.

“Oh, Captain Ornstein, are you feeling better?”, she asked. “I was handling the paperwork. I have made stacks for stuff that you still need to sign and stuff that I can't do on my own, but everything else is pretty much done, I wanted to turn it in once I finished the last few bits.”

“Have you done this the whole week?”, Ornstein was astounded as he gazed along the paperwork, messy lumps now neatly organized. It even intimidated him how big the stacks had become. He thoroughly hoped the biggest one wasn't the “to sign” stack.

“Yes, but I liked doing it. To be honest, I only joined the silver knight because my parents wanted me to. I never felt much for fighting, organizing stuff is a lot easier for me.”

“I am impressed. This helps so much. That you managed to do all this work in such a short time. I should assign you to do the paperwork exclusively.”

“Actually, I would rather cherish that.”

Ornstein stared at Sira, then at the paperwork, then at Sira again. He was half during the process to formulate a sentence in his head that she didn't need to and that it was his duty to do the paperwork and he just needed to stop procrastinating it, but then he asked himself. Why shouldn't he lot Sira do the paperwork? She had told him that she liked it more than doing the usual duties of a silver knight.

“Well then, Sira, I assign you to be in charge of the paperwork.”, Ornstein said.

“I will fulfill this task to the best of my belief.”, Sira answered and bowed to him. She took a bunch of papers with her, to Ornstein's relief from the biggest stack, pointed the one out he still needed to sign and left the room. Only when she had left Ornstein noticed that she hadn't stuttered once talking to him this time.

With Sira gone, Ornstein put the ask box down on the table and his gaze laid on the stack to sign for a moment. He should probably sign it, better sooner as later, but for now, he wanted to open the ask box first. He removed the lid and fished the first message out.

The silver knight ask box had been established a long time ago, back when all four knights of Gwyn still had been around, when the dragon war still had been raging on, when Lord Gwyn and even the Firstborn had still been around. Ornstein had bought the little box because he had become sick and tired of having to answer the same question to every silver knight individually, so he put the box down, instructed the silver knights to put any questions in it and at the end of the day he and the other knights of Gwyn would go through them and tell the silver knights their answers at the next roll call.

Ornstein was expecting to see a few requests in the box, so when he unfolded the message and looked at it, he got surprised to see the words: “Captain, are you feeling alright lately? It doesn't seem like it. May I suggest you get some rest?”

He unfolded the next message only to be greeted with a similar sounding message: “Captain, don't worry too much about taking a break, we can handle it until you feel better.”

Ornstein fished a third message out of the box, which read: “Captain, if I don't see you take a break soon, then me and Terrick will drag you to the infirmary.” It was signed by Amira, of course.

The rest of the messages were all like this. Concerns, the knights telling Ornstein not to worry about it, them begging him to take a break and even a few that must have been tossed in only recently, because they asked him if he felt better.

“You guys.”, Ornstein murmured to himself. “Why did I think I had to shoulder it all alone? I should have trusted my knights a little bit more...” He laid his head down on the table, overwhelmed by the kindness of his silver knights and his gaze fell onto the papers that still needed to be signed.

Ah well, he could get to them now. He felt that he at least owed Sira this. And if he only had to sign the papers it wouldn't take long. He fetched a quill and an ink pot and got started. ___

Later that day Ornstein was going through the stuff he had brought back from Oolacile. It wasn't much of course, he hadn't been there for sightseeing and he already had unpacked all the clothes he had brought with him and gave them to the laundry team.

What he hadn't unpacked yet, where the sketches he had made back then. Gough, Ciaran, the Sanctuary Guardian and some flowers from Dusk's garden. He remembered that he once had also drawn Dusk's maiden, but he had given the picture to them. Ornstein stared at the sketches. Didn't he thought about giving them some colour once he returned? He wasn't too sure though when he had used the easel the last time. He should check if the colours there were still moist and hadn't dried up yet.

However, before Ornstein wanted to visit the painting room, he picked up the sketch of Ciaran in front of the makeshift grave. Back then, Ciaran had shooed him away and he didn't had a chance to finish it yet. He let his gaze wander over the sketch. Ciaran's general posture had already been sketched out, how she had kneeled in front of the grave, hands folded into a prayer stance. Ornstein grabbed for a pencil, an item he usually would carry around with him and set the tip on the paper, it made a scratching sound once he drew the lines of Ciaran's helmet, the distinct shape, resembling a hornet.

He couldn't look at her for reference right now, but he didn't need to. He had seen her almost every single day for a few centuries, she was vividly in front of his inner eye. He continued the sketch with adding her distinct ponytail, unlike his, it had been added to her helmet, but Ornstein knew it had once been her actual hair, hair that she had cut short when she became an assassin. Ornstein drew the last few lines of the braid before adding her armour, the light leather set, which was worn by all of the lord's blades, but Ciaran still managed to distinct herself from them. Her mask looked different and she herself had chosen it. Ornstein drew the narrow eyes and the thin mouth on it, the only facial feature on the mask. Once he was done, he laid his pencil down and looked at his work.

A perfect sketch of Ciaran in her grieving, which she had done right away, instead like him, who had hid his feelings for far too long. Ciaran had decided back there and then, that her feelings were more important than her duties and stayed at Artorias grave. It hadn't even occurred to Ornstein to visit her. It must have been awful for her, maybe even more than for himself. He had a churning feeling in his chest, thinking about it. His gaze fell onto the drawing of Gough, the gentle giant, who would always carve and whittle away on some wood on this tower. They both had been worried about him, had told him several times to take care and what had he done?

Ornstein determined that he would visit both of them as soon as he had a free day. And his leg wouldn't hurt anymore.

Now that Ornstein had finished the sketch of Ciaran, technically he felt he could venture to the painting room and look for colours, but he wasn't in the mood for it. Instead, he picked up a fresh piece of paper and his pencil.

The first thing he roughly sketched out were a few trees. They didn't need to be very detailed, he just needed the general idea of a forest clearing on this piece. He adumbrated some grass and then the scratching of his pencil worked on the main part of this sketch, a figure leaning against a tree, legs spread out, relaxed posture. Nobody viewed Ornstein draw, but when he would have a spectator, they would have realized that he was working on Artorias the moment the lines formed his cape and hood. Ornstein added the details of Artorias armour on the drawing, the leggings that mostly resembled those of a silver knight as well as the chest piece, which was party covered by the cape though. Then the next line formed the tassel on Artorias hood, going straight down, resting on his chest. And even though most of the time, Artorias face was darkened inside that hood, Ornstein decided to add it. The gentle gaze, the charming smile, the vertical scar just above his nose, the beard shadow that grew back even after Artorias had fully shaved that morning.

Yes, this was Artorias like he remembered him. An Artorias who was at ease with himself and the world. Ornstein hoped, that wherever Artorias mind was now, that he could find this peace, that he didn't had to wander in endless nightmares.

Ornstein gazed at the sketch again. Actually, this wasn't complete yet. What truly made Artorias, was still missing. He added the figure of a wolf pup next to Artorias with a few strokes, curled in on itself.

Another glance, still didn't felt finished. Ornstein didn't need to think twice about what to add. A few lines later, Artorias had his sword laid lazily over his legs, the massive size of it still making the tip bury slightly into the ground and his shield was laid protectively over Sif, as if he wanted to shield her from any harm. Ornstein laid down the drawing and felt satisfied. That was how he wanted to remember Artorias. Not like the one he had seen in his dreams... he wanted to try and remember his friend as the relaxed man chilling in the woods.

It had gotten quite late while he had worked on the drawings. Now he had Gough, Ciaran and Artorias. Three of the four knights of Gwyn. Only one missing.

Ornstein stared at his armour that he had stacked into a corner of the room. He stood up and walked over to it in slow, but steady steps. He studied the armour thoroughly, tried to etch every single detail into his mind. He had been wearing it pretty much every day now since he had become the first knight of Gwyn. It felt like it had become a part of his personality.

“I wonder if this is a good thing?”, Ornstein asked himself, when he picked up the helmet and took it back with him to the table, placing it in plain sight, turned around, so that he would look at the backside. Then he straightened a new piece of paper.

Ciaran he had drawn praying in front of the makeshift grave, Gough he had drawn carving, Artorias he had drawn relaxing in the woods. And the last knight of Gwyn?

Ornstein sketched out the cathedral, the part that was most visible for anyone who would come from Sen's fortress, the big gates, the stairs, the windows, the spires, before he sketched the figure of the dragon slayer in front of it.

Spear firmly gripped in his right hand, his back turned to the watcher, the gaze of his lion helmet on the cathedral, his ponytail falling down his back, posture strong and assertive, showing that this place was under his protection. He truly felt like the last protector of Anor Londo.

Ornstein dropped his pencil, after drawing that much his fingers had cramped and the broken fingers in his left hand throbbed too, although he mostly had used this hand to hold the paper down.

Ornstein looked out of the window. He hadn't even noticed that the sun had already set. That explained why his room suddenly felt so dark. He lighted a candle and put it on his night stand. Ornstein wondered if he should go to bed straight away, but he wasn't feeling tired yet. It wouldn't hurt walking the short distance to the painting room and check for colours. He could buy any missing ones the next day on his patrol, so he grabbed the candle and left his room.

As Ornstein was wandering through the hallways, he could hear a voice casually speaking: “...and then we all wanted to know who the mysterious piano player was and were eavesdropping at the door, but we were too greedy and then the door busted and it turned out to be... Oh, Captain Ornstein!”, Herman greeted Ornstein as he crossed the path of him and Jervis. “Is anything the matter? Do you want to check if we do our job right?”, he chuckled.

“No, I am not here for that.”, Ornstein replied, he couldn't help but feel amused. “I just wanted to check something in the painting room.”

“Alright, captain, call us if anything happens.”, Herman said and both knights passed Ornstein. After a few more steps, Ornstein could hear how they continued their conversation.

“So who has been the mysterious piano player?”, Jervis asked.

“That's it, it was indeed Captain Ornstein. He was furious about us eavesdropping, especially at Artorias, but he still agreed to play for us.”, Herman answered.

That brought Ornstein back. One day he had discovered a piano in one of the guest rooms and he used to learn it as a kid. He hadn't played for a good while this particular day, so his playing was far off and sounded awful, so he came to practice every single day and got the interest of the silver knights. Playing the piano... he hadn't done it in a while yet. Ornstein thought it could be fun to do it once again, but then he remembered the broken fingers on his left hand and looked at them.

“Won't be able to hit all keys with two of them restrained liked this.”, he murmured to himself and entered the painting room he had arrived at in the meantime.

He closed the door behind him, put the candle into his left hand (carefully to not drop it, being able to only hold it with three fingers) and headed straight for the cupboard where they kept their colours. He opened it, carefully placed the candle on the floor and checked if he had everything he would need.

Let's see, he needed gold, red, blue, silver, white, brown, black and green mostly. Most colours were still there, but he noticed a shortage of blue and gold. Ornstein closed the cupboard, picked up the candle and went back to his room.

The next day on his patrol Ornstein strolled over the market place and got the missing colours, a new brush when he was already on it and some treats that he intended to give to the group of cats.

It felt a bit like Artorias ghost had possessed him when he bought the treats. Ornstein had never cared much about cats, they were far too hostile against him, but for some reason, this group had started to grow on him. While Ornstein was tossing the treats to them, he thought about that Artorias often had brought dogs or cats with him into the cathedral before he had gotten Sif, hastily hiding them in cupboard drawers until Ornstein had forced him to get them out of the cathedral.

An uneasy thought crossed Ornstein's mind. What if he still had cats and dogs hidden in his room? And nobody had entered this place for a good while now...

Orstein shook off the thought as quickly as possible, there was no way Artorias would have left some animals to starve while he was gone. Even if there had been animals in his room, he would have made sure that someone took care of them. And when he had asked Ciaran, she also would have made sure that they were taken care off.

While Ornstein had been lost in thoughts, he hadn't noticed that the little white cat had laid down beside him, purring and he absentmindedly had started to pet it, even though his hand was covered into a cold metal gauntlet. Snowy didn't seem to mind though. Hm, strange, maybe he could get behind cats after all.

Ornstein kept some of the treats for himself (a guilty pleasure only a few people knew about) and finished his patrol. There wasn't much going on. His silver knights did outstanding work and managed to deal with thieves, bandits and even Undead flawlessly. Ornstein had to admit, it probably helped that Seath would house the Undead until they were able to escort them to the asylum. Even though Ornstein felt like they always got less Undead back than they had brought in.

After Ornstein arrived back at the cathedral, he met up with Sira to take care of the paperwork she couldn't do on her own. After that was done, he cleaned out the silver knight ask box while eating the left over dried fish treats and saw even more supportive messages, which brought a smile on his face. One of them was from Amira and Terrick inviting him to a game of cards. Ornstein considered it, he really should try to go out more, spending time with his knights could be just what he needed. Even though he enjoyed some solitude, he had to admit that he had felt quite lonely lately, with Artorias, Ciaran and Gough gone, the three people he had spent so much time with over the course of several centuries.

After his duties were done for the day and the silver knights were assigned to new tasks (even though Amira and Terrick had suggested they could do it, Ornstein still wanted to do this task on his own), he fetched the colours and the brush he had bought earlier as well as the sketches from his room, unsheathed from his armour and walked to the painting room.

Ornstein prepared an easel, put the sketch on it and poured the colours on a pallet. He wanted to start with Ciaran so he mostly needed blue and some white. Soon it was only him and the strokes of his brush on the painting as Ciaran started to get some colour, first the basics, then the details. Ornstein took great care into adding lighter spots at where the sun had shone on her, he remembered the picture of her praying in front of this grave so well and that it kind of had looked beautiful how the light had reflected on her armour.

As soon as he was finished with giving the grave some colour, Ornstein stepped back and inspected his work. He found it to be a fine piece. He would have loved to show it to Ciaran, but...

Ornstein's stomach growled and he realized how much time he already had spent in the painting room. He could finish the other paintings over the course of the next few days. As he was cleaning up and on his way to leave the room, Ornstein noticed another easel which was covered with a cloth. Curious on who had painted lately and what, he removed it and stared at a painting of himself and Artorias.

Oh, that explained why blue and gold had been out.

Ornstein nearly felt like crying when he looked at the painting. It wasn't a masterpiece, far from it, it was pretty crude and bristled with beginner mistakes, but he instantly knew that Artorias had painted it. Ornstein wondered if Artorias had planned to gift it to him? Had it been his birthday? Ornstein was awfully bad at remembering it, but Artorias hadn't forgotten it any single year. Every year Ornstein had received a cake from him, often along another present, often handmade.

And now, Ornstein would never eat Artorias cake again.

Ornstein put the cloth back over the painting, wiped away the tears that had formed in his eyes and left the painting room.

After dinner, Ornstein decided to accept the invitation to the silver knight card game and thus it was far too late to continue his paintings once they finished and he excused himself to go to bed while the silver knights still seemed to want to stay awake a bit. After Ornstein did had so much sleeping trouble though, he decided to work on a consistent sleep schedule and go to bed at a reasonable hour each day.

The next few days continued in this matter. Ornstein would attend to his duties, then paint until dinner and then usually spent some time with the silver knights. Over the days, the drawings became more and more coloured.

On the first day Gough and his carvings turned into the brown and black shades the giant appeared in. On this day the silver knights wanted to play some chess and all got destroyed by Ornstein, who jokingly said they had to get Seath when they wanted a chance and ended in several silver knights trying to hold back the newbies when they actually wanted to venture into the archives.

On the second day, Ornstein's brush strokes gave colour to Artorias and Sif, which soon appeared in their usual silver-blue as well as grey. Ornstein took so much care of tiny details, that he had to postpone painting the background, because he barely managed to finish Artorias sword once it was time for dinner. This evening, the silver knights indulged in a game of truth or dare. Ornstein didn't join, but watched from the sidelines, thinking about the times he had played it with the others. This evening when Ornstein left he felt a lump in his throat.

The third day was spent with painting the forest around Artorias and Sif, before Ornstein managed to give colour to his self portrait. This day he didn't felt like hanging out with the silver knights and instead used the extra time after dinner to finish the drawing, added some details and painted the cathedral around himself. After he was done, he took a step back and admired his work. It had been some time since he last had painted, but this felt like some of his finest works. Now he had to find a place where he could hang them, but first, they needed to dry.

Ornstein decided to take a bath, he had managed to splash himself with colour quite a bit. It was a bit troublesome with the splinted fingers, but at least Gwyndolin had took off the bandage around his leg in the meantime and the bruise had almost healed, so that Ornstein didn't need to limp at all anymore. Ornstein also had arranged to visit Gwyndolin on a regular basis for some tea and them talking to each other, as friends not as knight and lord and Ornstein felt like this greatly improved his mood, he had started to look forward to visiting them ever since he had left the Dark Moon Tomb. He felt like both of them needed this visits, it made them feel less lonely.

Even though Ornstein enjoyed spending time with his silver knights, they never had the same chemistry with him than Artorias, Ciaran and Gough had. Sure, they were friendly and made him feel cherished, but ultimately, Ornstein knew they still saw him as their captain and so a certain closeness was missing. Ornstein wondered if that was what Artorias had felt about him? That Ornstein involuntary had pushed him away, because he was his captain and not because Ornstein had feared that his secret got lifted? Sadly now he would never know the answer. Artorias literally had taken it to the grave with him.

This night Ornstein had a mental breakdown again.

The next day, Ornstein had organized some picture frames, mostly from unused rooms with paintings so old that the colour already chipped off, still storing them neatly in the painting room.

Ornstein had decided where to hang his paintings and so he was in the silver knight quarters, scanning the walls, searching for the best position to hang the paintings. Once he had found a particular long wall with enough empty space, Ornstein picked up the hammer he had brought and proceeded to knock a nail in the wall, carefully taking care to not hit his hurt fingers. It was troublesome enough already with only three fingers to hold the nail and every hit on it made the injury throb, so Ornstein was pretty glad, when some help arrived in the form of Herman.

“Captain, let me help you with this.”, he shouted out. “It must be difficult for you to hold the nail with your injuries.”

“Thank you, Herman.”, Ornstein said and instructed the knight to where he wanted the nails. While he was at work, Jervis popped in, curious what Herman was doing. These two knights really had become inseparable lately. Ornstein felt like they had some father-son-dynamic going on. Which also reminded him, that he never did had a father figure in his life. The closest was probably Gough, they often jokingly had said that Gough is something like the team dad of the knights of Gwyn. And Gough had just chuckled in his low voice and said that he didn't mind having three children like them now.

Once again, reminiscing in this good old times made Ornstein feel uneasy.

“Alright, Captain, I am done.”, Herman's voice snapped Ornstein out of this thoughts.

“Thank you.”, Ornstein said and stood up, walking over to the paintings he already had framed. He picked the first one, that of Ciaran and hung it on the first nail on the wall.

“Oh, we are blessed with some original Ornstein's today.”, Herman casually said.

“What?”, Jervis asked, clearly confused.

“You see, Captain Ornstein sometimes paints and then finds a place in the cathedral to hang the paintings. This appears to be a painting from Lady Ciaran, who sadly has left us. What is the painting called?”

“Grief.”, Ornstein answered, after checking if the painting was hanging straight.

He picked up the next painting, the one of Gough carving.

“It has been so many years since I last saw Sir Gough! How is he doing?”

“Fine.”, Ornstein answered. “He carves the whole day, so much, that his body is littered with chips.”

“The title of this one?”

“Calm.”

The next painting was that of Artorias. Ornstein mulled over it for a bit before he started to hang it. This time, Herman didn't say anything.

“I called it peace.”, Ornstein explained after hanging the painting. “It is what he deserved. It is what I hope he has.” Ornstein didn't knew yet that he never would stop wondering if Artorias had actually be able to move on.

Only one painting left. He picked it up without taking a second glance.

“So know we have all of the four knights of Gwn watching over us.”, Herman mused. “And what is the title of this one, captain?”

Ornstein finished hanging the painting, looked at it, looked at the floor, blinked and stared at it again.

“The last protector.”, he finally said. ___

“How nice to see that you bless us with our presence.”

Ciaran's word stung like a hornet. Ornstein knew she didn't mean it like that, she usually was that sarcastic. He took it as a good sign. Her spraying some poison meant that she was feeling better.

“I had a lot of stuff to do and then...”, Ornstein started but didn't continue the sentence, absentmindedly petting over Sif's head instead, removing his left gauntlet to better feel the soft fur of the animal.

“What happened to your fingers?”, Ciaran asked, suddenly standing next to him, startling Ornstein so much that he jumped.

“Oh that...”, Ornstein said, staring at his fingers. “I fell.”

“Fell how? Down the stairs? Or did you trip over a cat?” Ornstein could clearly hear the irony in her voice over the last line.

“Fine, you got me, I collapsed from lack of sleep.”, Ornstein blurted out. “And then I was sick for a while and couldn't leave.”

“You insisted all this time that you were fine, but I still knew it would happen.”, Ciaran scolded him. “You should have taken care of yourself right away.”

“To be honest, Ciaran, you put on quite a burden on me when you told me that you wouldn't return to the cathedral.”, Ornstein snapped back at her.

“That is true. I am sorry for this, but I simply knew that I wouldn't be able to continue my duties.”, Ciaran casually explained.

“You want to watch over his grave.”, Ornstein said, it was a statement, not an ask. “Together with Sif.”

Ciaran simply nodded and sat back down behind the grave. After a few moments, Ornstein followed her. As he passed the grave, he took a moment to pray in front of it, sending his best wishes to Artorias. The sword of the wolf knight had been slammed into the ground. Sif was still too small to use it. And it would probably take her another 100 or 200 years to grow to her full size, great grey wolfs were a long living species but also one that grew exceptionally slow.

“So, how have you been?”, Ciaran asked once Ornstein had sat down beside her.

“Well, you know...”, Ornstein started and then he told her almost everything what had happened until he arrived back at Anor Londo. About how he drowned himself in work, how the mission with the dark wraiths went and how he was locked up by Gwyndolin in the Dark Moon Tomb for a good weak, but he didn't tell her about the mental breakdowns he had, how much he actually had vomited or that he had hung a painting of her grieving in front of Artorias makeshift grave into the silver knights quarters.

Eventually Ornstein had to leave. The way to Oolacile wasn't the shortest and he had used his free day for the visit, although this time he hadn't travelled on foot alone but actually paid some money for a carrier ride which greatly shortened the time. The first time around he mostly had decided to walk, because he had dreaded the arrival. And while this time he still had an empty feeling in his chest, Ornstein knew it was because he missed his friend, that was all. He probably would never stop to miss him, he only could get used to it.

However, Ornstein didn't want to leave back to Anor Londo right away, he had another friend to visit. As soon as he had climbed the ladder and set both feet on the ground of the tower, Gough greeted him.

“It's good to see that you are feeling better, Ornstein.”

“Yes, I am glad about this too... wait, what?”

Gough chuckled, that low chuckle that made Ornstein feel so much at ease.

“It is the way you walk, the clanks of your steps are sounding totally different depending on your mood.”, Gough explained. “So, how have you been doing lately? You took your sweet time to come for a visit.”

So Ornstein told his story a second time, pretty much the same like for Ciaran, only letting out things like his mental breakdowns, although to Gough he did tell that he had hung paintings of all four knights into the silver knight quarters.

“And when I was painting, I was discovering this other painting, it was of Artorias and me... and even though it wasn't signed I knew instantly that Artorias had painted it. Had he told you something about it?”

Gough stopped his carving and pondered for a bit, but then shook his head: “No, Artorias hasn't said anything about having done a painting. I guess he wanted it to be a surprise. Why don't you consider it as his last gift?”

“I was thinking about it anyway. Thanks for your advice, old friend.”

They both stayed like that and chatted a bit more until Ornstein really had to leave, or he would miss the carrier departing towards Anor Londo and he was supposed to pick his duties back up tomorrow. From the base of tower, Ornstein could see how Gough waved to him and Ornstein waved back.

Even though his knights weren't with him anymore, he could still visit them. And that made Ornstein feel a bit less lonely. ___

Ornstein was in his room, searching for a place to hang the painting of Artorias he had discovered in the painting room. It took him a long while to find a a place, trying out quite a few, being unsatisfied and searching for another place until he finally settled at the door. Then, he could look at it every time he left his room. And Ornstein felt like Artorias deserved this, even if he didn't knew if the painting had been intended as a gift, the dragon slayer had known the wolf knight for so long, that he pretty much didn't had any doubt about it. He would cherish this last gift Artorias had ever made him. He wanted to be able to look at it every day without even forgetting once. So the door was the perfect place for it. After he was done, Ornstein took a few steps back and just admired the painting.

Not everything was fine yet. Sometimes Ornstein still awoke in cold sweat because of a nightmare. Sometimes Ornstein still had mental breakdowns. Sometimes he had to just leave the hangout time with the silver knights because his feelings overwhelmed him and he needed to calm down. But at the same time, Ornstein had started to talk more to Gwyndolin about everything that troubled him (but he still left out he had mental breakdowns, he didn't want to burden them with this knowledge) and he regularly visited Ciaran, Gough, Sif and Artorias in Oolacile.

But Ornstein felt like he had to do one last thing to get full closure, to finally being able to accept Artorias death.

He was staying in front of Artorias room and took a few deep breathes, pacing back and forth until ten minutes had passed. “This is ridiculous, just enter.”, Ornstein scolded himself but knocked at the door first, exclaiming “Artorias, it's me, Ornstein, I am coming in.”, even though he knew Artorias couldn't be in there.

It still felt right to do it. They always had announced when they intended to enter the other's room. When Ornstein opened the door and entered, what he was seeing was a nice, tidy and cozy room.

That was so very much Artorias, he loved to keep his stuff neat and clean, just like his handwriting. The bed was neatly made, some blue sheets with a wolf pattern was on it, which made Ornstein smile, that was so fitting. The table in the room had a tea service ready to use on it. There were some books stacked on the night table, Artorias probably had intended to read them after he returned. There was a cupboard and when Ornstein opened it, Artorias clothes were hung in place, a few missing, the ones he had taken with him to Oolacile.

Ornstein also opened the drawers and sighed in relief when he didn't see any cats or dogs in them, especially because after so much time had passed they already had starved. But Ornstein also knew that Artorias would have never let that happen, he loved animals for too much for this.

Ornstein sat down on the bed. It was soft and yielded under his weight. He took the first book on the night stand and opened it.

It was Artorias cookie recipe book. Ornstein stared at his beautifully handwritten recipes and at the drawings he had added of the cookies. He stared at the notes Artorias had made. Notes about which cookie which of the knight liked the most and even notes how to make more unliked cookies better so that everyone of them could enjoy them.

Ornstein put the book aside. He felt tears streaming down his face. But, this time, he just let them be. He allowed himself this moment of grief. Yes, Ornstein would need to keep it together for a little while longer.

But he hadn't to keep it together right now. (Author's note: And we have reached the end. Thanks for everyone who supported this story. I would love to hear your opinions. Even though I halfway wanted to give up on this story, I am glad that I could get my muse back and write out this last chapter, with a scene I wanted to use to end it with over a year ago, when I first thought about writing it. I hope you enjoyed my take on how Ornstein would take Artorias death and maybe we'll see each other again on another work of mine.)

#dark souls #fanfiction #dragon slayer ornstein #lord's blade ciaran #hawkeye gough #great grey wolf sif #silver knights #I am actually very satisfied with this last chapter #sorry that my upload schedule got so messed up #littlewritesstuff

13 notes · View notes

mrslittletall · 5 years

Text

Title: Keeping it together (Chapter 22) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Dark Sun Gwyndolin Word Count: 2.994 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328084/chapters/43896598 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/183845260959/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-21

Summary: Gwyndolin confronts Ornstein about his poor health.

(Author's note: Oh dear, I have to apologize. I had the greatest struggle continuing to writing this story, I felt like I had lost the touch with it and started to hate my own story, almost wishing that it never existed. I was extremely insecure about my writing and it didn't help that any other fanfiction I was reading felt so much better written and thought out and I was just frustrated and wanted to half ass finish it.

But then some dear friends I knew from tumblr or twitter helped me go over my insecurities and brought back my motivation. And so I managed to write the end to this story. It is cut in two chapters, or it would have been too long, but you can expect the last chapter soon, probably in two or three days and until then you can enjoy the penultimate chapter. I am thanking everyone who read this story and left likes, favourites or comments.)

Slowly Ornstein opened his eyes, blinking a few times until they had adjusted to the far too bright light for his taste. He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, that wasn't his bedroom or the infirmary. He felt weak and exhausted and in pain, especially the right leg. The last thing he remembered was talking to his silver knights and what had happened then?

He carefully tried to lift his upper body up, surprised by a sting in his fingers when he used his left hand for support. He looked at it and saw that his pinkie finger and his ring finger seemed to be splinted and bandaged.

“Ornstein, are you awake? Would you please not to move around so much, I still need to treat your leg.” That was the voice of Gwyndolin. Ornstein stopped staring at his fingers and moved his gaze over to them, they were in the process of treating his bruised leg.

“Sorry.”, Ornstein said and laid back down, waiting for Gwyndolin to finish. His thoughts already had bone back to his duties. Once Gwyndolin would have finished patching him up, he would stand up and leave right away. Until then...

“What happened?”, Ornstein wanted to know.

“You collapsed. The silver knights brought you here.”, Gwyndolin answered, putting a gentle pressure on his leg, making Ornstein wince. “Good, this leg isn't broken, but it is heavily bruised. You will limp for a while.” They got an ointment and applied it to Ornstein's leg who winced again at the pain, but endured it. He was a knight after all. He was used to keep it together while getting injuries treated.

“Take it easy with this leg until it fully healed. You better not go hunting demons or any other foe in this size for a while.”, Gwyndolin said while they wrapped a bandage around it.

“Got it.”, Ornstein said. “What happened to my fingers? Last time I checked they weren't hurt.”

“You must have broken them when you fell down. You are quite tall and wear several pounds of armour.”, Gwyndolin answered. They slithered a meter away from the bed, collecting their medicinal supplies.

Ornstein lifted himself up again, this time using his right hand for support. A sudden wave of nausea washed over him and he laid back down, waited a few minutes until it was over and lifted himself up again, taking a look around in the Dark Moon Tomb.

“Where is my armour?”, he asked. He wanted to get back to his duties as quickly as possible and it wasn't possible without his armour.

“The silver knights who brought you here made sure to remove it first, which was a clever move or do you expect them to carry you here with several pounds of plate armour on top of your normal weight?”

“True.”, Ornstein got up from the bed, winced when the bruised leg hit the ground and had to fight another wave of nausea. He managed to get it away with a few deep breathes.

“Thanks for treating my wounds, Gwyndolin, but now I need to get back to my duties.”

Ornstein limped over to the exit of the tomb. He hoped the silver knights had brought his armour (and his spear which was also missing) back into his room or he needed to search for it first. And he still had so much stuff to do. Writing the report about fighting this demon, going on his patrol, training the silver knights, especially the new recruits, escort the Undead from the Archives to the Undead Asylum... Ornstein didn't even notice that Gwyndolin observed him silently with a blank look.

Just when Ornstein had reached the door of the Dark Moon Tomb, he ran into a thick, white fog. “What the hell?”, he wondered himself and then turned around to see that it had been Gwyndolin who raised the fog gate.

“I don't think this is very funny, Gwyndolin.”, Ornstein growled. “Let me out.”

“No.”, Gwyndolin said. “I want you to go back into this bed.”

“I need to go back to my duties, just let me out.”, Ornstein demanded.

“No, just go back into bed.”, Gwyndolin said. “You are not only hurt, but also sick. In this state you are more a danger than a help to your knights.”

Ornstein froze at the tone of their voice. They didn't pleaded for him to go into bed, they were ordering him. If he wouldn't obey, he was sure Gwyndolin would force him. Of course Ornstein was physically far stronger than them, but with their knowledge of moonlight magic and illusionary magic, they wouldn't had any trouble to force him right where they wanted him to have. And even though Ornstein had denied it for weeks now, he was in a weakened state. He reluctantly left the door and limped back to the bed.

“Why don't you let me leave?”, he asked after he had laid down back on it. “It is true I got injured, but it isn't very bad. And I don't even have a fever, how can you think I am sick?”

“Do you know how worried the silver knights were who brought you here? Why do you think they brought you to the tomb instead of the infirmary after you collapsed?”, Gwyndolin snapped.

Ornstein opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He had noticed that he wasn't in the infirmary, but he hadn't even thought about why.

“They told me ever since you have come back from Oolacile that you hadn't felt like yourself. That you pushed yourself far too hard. And that you have gotten sick from it.”

Ornstein wanted to curse, but his nausea came back full force as everything flooded back into him. How Amira and Terrick had called him out on his poor health. That he didn't need to shoulder alone and that it was alright for him to take a rest. And just as he had assured him that the was fine, he had collapsed. Ornstein clasped a hand over his mouth but it felt too late. Luckily, Gwyndolin handed him a bucket before he could soil himself and the bed.

“Sorry for this...”, Ornstein murmured once he was sure that his stomach calmed down and let himself fall back in the pillows. Gwyndolin handed him a blanket which he took to cover himself, suddenly he felt cold and shivered.

Gwyndolin sat down on the edge of the bed. “Ornstein, be honest with me. Have you griefed properly for Artorias?”

“I, um...”, Ornstein started but his voice trailed off and got lost. Since he had gotten the message about his death, he did had have several breakdowns, but that could hardly be described as proper grieving. His time in Oolacile was spent with attending to Artorias burial ceremony and killing time until it was ready. He didn't had grieved but tried to occupy his mind with other stuff, still hardly believing that Artorias was dead. And the moment he had returned to Anor Londo, he practictally had thrown himself into his duties, just wanting to not think about it anymore and every time it happened, he told himself to keep it together. A part of him probably still was hoping that Artorias and Ciaran would come back through the large gate of the cathedral anytime, even though he knew how impossible it was.

“No.”, he finally answered.

“And you thought that was healthy?” Ornstein could hear the anger in Gwyndolin's voice. “Your knights told me that you needed to vomit and said that it was just a little stress. They also told me that you overslept quite a bit. And they had the feeling that you tried very hard to keep it together, as if you long had reached a breaking point and could barely contain it anymore.”

They stood up and extended an arm, pointing at him.

“And then they bring me to you, injured and in this sorry state and the first thing you do is wanting to leave despite still being sick enough that you can't keep your food down!”, they finished their rant.

“It's...”, Ornstein started again but apparently was unable to finish any sentence. It's true. He wanted to say. I tried so hard to keep it together, I didn't want anyone to see me like this, like this mess that I have become. Instead, he just started to sob. Gwyndolin's words felt like the dam had finally broken, the dam he had worked so hard on to keep it together.

Gwyndolin set down on the edge of the bed again. “I know it is hard, but you need to take your time to let all your sorrow out.”

“That's not it.”, Ornstein sobbed. “It was my fault. I should have known! Known that Artorias would get corrupted! I should have never send him down there!” He felt terrible only thinking about it. He was reminded of his first night in Oolacile when he had thought about all this, when he had another breakdown, when he had needed to vomit again, the night he practically hadn't found any sleep anymore.

“You are blaming yourself.” It wasn't a question but a statement. “It is the same with you every time... You know that Artorias would have gone onto this mission even if you wouldn't have send him.”

“I still should have done something, anything!”, Ornstein brought out between sobs, now covering his face in his hands.

“I would like to talk further about this, but first, you need to take some time until you calm down.”, Gwyndolin observed. They stayed with Ornstein sitting on the edge of the bed the whole time until Ornstein had calmed down, which took him a good while. All the tears he had suppressed were flowing out at once. He was mourning the loss of his friend, mourning the loss of Ciaran as a knight, had to face how lonely he felt now. After his sobs had died down to occasional sniffing, Gwyndolin handed him a handkerchief.

“I'll get you some tea.”, they said. While they were gone, Ornstein had enough time to wipe his tears and blow his nose, hands still were shaking. He flopped down in the pillows, waiting until Gwyndolin returned with a cup of steaming hot tea. He took it in his uninjured hand, but didn't drink it right away this time. He had learned. Gwyndolin conjured up a chair with their catalyst and sat down.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, they asked.

“I don't know.”, Ornstein replied. “I don't really know how to put it in words.” He sighed and stared into the cup, expecting that Gwyndolin would force him to talk.

“Understood.”, they said and Ornstein turned his head in surprise. They got up and came back with a piece of paper and a pencil. “How about you draw or write about it instead?”

Ornstein didn't answer right away, his gaze locked at the cup of tea again. He took a tiny sip from it until he felt it had cooled down and put it on the night stand, extending his hands to show Gwyndolin that he wanted to give it a try.

Gwyndolin handed the items to Ornstein and raised their catalyst to conjure a wooden board, that Ornstein could use as writing pad.

Ornstein had decided that he wanted to draw out his feeling. It wasn't as easy to hold the writing pad with two broken fingers, but nobody expected a master piece of him. Granted, even Ornstein's scribbles looked a lot better than the drawings of most average artists, he did had time to practice for hundreds of years now. So Ornstein started to scribble around on the paper.

He drew Artorias and Sif how they walked into the chasm.

He drew how Artorias left the chasm injured and dripping with black goo.

He drew himself fighting against Artorias.

He drew himself again collapsed over Artorias corpse, with his spear stuck into his chest.

He drew himself corrupted by the abyss, dark lightning coming from his spear.

He drew Artorias and himself, both of them corrupted and on a rampage.

And the last picture he drew was himself again, alone, broken down on the floor while Artorias, Ciaran and Gough were walking away.

After he had finished the drawings, he put them down, laid himself down into the pillows and closed his eyes. He suddenly had become so very tired. He just wanted to sleep and so he didn't notice that Gwyndolin picked up his drawings while he drifted off to sleep.

After Ornstein awoke, Gwyndolin was awaiting him, with the drawings he had made.

“How are you feeling?”, they asked.

Ornstein hesitated before answering. They didn't want to know how his physical state was, he was sure of it. After what had felt like an eternity, he opened his mouth to speak. “Guilty.”, he admitted. “Lonely.”

“Judging from your drawings you thought about different scenarios.”, Gwyndolin said, looking at the picture. “And what I see here are outcomes even worse than what actually happened.”

“I know...”, Ornstein murmured. “I was thinking about all the things I could have done different and every outcome was worse than the other. But...”, he pulled the blanket over his head and continued in a muffled voice, “It also could have turned out alright, but now I will never know. I lost the only chance I had. Artorias won't ever come back. Ciaran will never leave his grave. In the end, I failed both of them.”

“I want to tell you to stop blaming yourself, it isn't healthy, but I have felt the same far too often.”, Gwyndolin said. “I have asked myself so often if it had been my fault that my brother turned traitor. If it was my fault that my sister left us. If I should have tried and held back my father from leaving.”

Ornstein reappeared from the blankets, staring at Gwyndolin.

“You have never said anything.”, he said in a reproachful tone.

“Have you?”, Gwyndolin countered and Ornstein felt like hiding beneath the blankets again.

“It isn't healthy feeling like this. It is eating at yourself. You will get sucked down in a vortex of guilt and what ifs. I am sure you have gotten sick because of it. Are you still feeling nauseous by the way?”, Gwyndolin continued their remarks.

Ornstein carefully thought about it. Most of the time, when he had vomited, he felt awful, like it could have start right again away, like having food poisoning. But since he had cried out all his tears, his head had hurt and his throat had felt dry, but he hadn't felt nauseous once. He shook his head.

“That is a start.”, Gwyndolin smiled at him. “But I need you to stay here until you are fully recovered. It won't do anyone any good when you have a relapse, especially not yourself.”

“But what about my duties?”, Ornstein asked, staring at the ceiling.

“You can trust your silver knights a little bit more, can't you?”

Gwyndolin kept Ornstein a few days longer into the dark moon tomb, making sure that nothing that could stress him came his way and gave him a scolding whenever he wanted to talk about his duties and more tried to get him to open up about what had happened to him since he had gotten the message of Artorias death. And with their help, Ornstein finally was able to face and work through Artorias death and he told them almost the full story, only leaving out the mental breakdowns he had. Having to tell about his nightmares and how often he had needed to vomit felt worse enough.

“I just miss them.”, Ornstein said the day Gwyndolin confronted him about that last doodle on the paper. “All of them.”

“I can relate.”, Gwyndolin said. “You know that pretty much my whole family left me alone. Sometimes there are just days where I miss them so much that it hurts.”

“What are you doing when this happens?”, Ornstein wanted to know.

“When I have a day like this, I...”, Gwyndolin trailed off, seeming to stare into nothingness. “It probably is stupid, but...”

“I won't laugh.”, Ornstein promised, noticing their struggle.

Gwyndolin took a few deep breathes and continued their story. “I conjure up illusions of them. Of my brother, my sister, my father. We spend the whole day together and have fun and laugh and it is like they have never left.”

“Does it help?”

“A bit. I perfectly know it isn't real, but by pretending that they are still with me, I don't feel as lonely anymore.”, Gwyndolin stared at the ceiling of the tomb before focusing their gaze on Ornstein. “I could do it for you too.”

That was... a gracious offer. Ornstein thought about it. Would it make him feel better to interact with his fellow knights and friends again, even if they were just illusions? Wouldn't it make him feel even more lonely once the spell was broken? Also, it didn't feel right to ask Gwyndolin to use their magic for such a mundane thing. And would Gwyndolin even be able to capture their personality? They knew their family, about that Ornstein was sure, but...

“I am thankful for your offer, Gwyndolin, but I think I'll pass.”, Ornstein said.

“It is your choice and you can always ask if you change your mind.”, Gwyndolin said.

“I will let you know should this be the case.”, Ornstein said and smiled at them. And it felt like the first genuine smile he had given in a while.

Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/184342427134/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-23

#dark souls #fanfiction #dragon slayer ornstein #dark sun gwyndolin #littlewritesstuff #grieving #broken bones #mental health issues #tw vomit

7 notes · View notes

mrslittletall · 5 years

Text

Title: The Living Dreams (Chapter 2) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Artorias the Abysswalker/Manus Father of the Abyss, Dragon Slayer Ornstein Word Count: 1.422 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/184643045894/title-the-living-dreams-chapter-1-fandom-dark AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18705706/chapters/44524273

Summary: Ornstein tries to process what he has seen. The dream continues.

(Author's note: Who is ready for the first short bit of lemon?

Warning for a tiny bit of vomiting in this one.)

It was just a dream.

Ornstein tried to say this to himself the whole day, but he failed. He couldn't stop thinking about it. About the kiss.

Relax, it was just a kiss.

A kiss between his best friend and a horrible abyss monster which was responsible for his death!

You have kissed a god, you know?

Yes, but he wasn't a HORRIBLE BEAST FROM THE ABYSS!

“...tain, um, captain?”

“Huh?”, Ornstein got caught out of his thoughts by the voice of Amira, one of his silver knight lieutenants.

“We have waited for your instructions for over ten minutes now. Are you feeling alright?”

“Sorry, just have been lost in thought.”, Ornstein replied, gaze darting over his silver knights, which all had their eyes on him, as he had leaned on the wall, waiting for the instructions of Terrick to be over, another one of his silver knight lieutenants and Amira's cousin. “I had kind of a... weird dream.”

“A dream? What was it about?”, Terrick joined in.

Ornstein was sure that his face under his helmet turned as red as the ponytail of hair coming out to form the plume and he stuttered. “Um... I... it's... I can't really... talk... about it...”

Amira snatched Terrick on the arm and dragged him away. “Terrick, you can't just ask so bluntly about this. What if it was... you know?”, she hastily whispered to him and Ornstein could hear how Terrick “ooohed” in response. He sighed, got away from the wall and instructed the silver knights for the day.

Ornstein was on his patrol when he saw two of his knights slacking off. Not on his watch. With a swift dash he was at there side to call them out only to see that they were kissing. He backed away a step and blurted out: “Stop! Don't do something so indecent!”

The two silver knight, while obviously caught and looking busted, also looked very confused, of course they had to take their helmets off for the action.

“I am sorry, captain, we shouldn't have done this on duty.”, Umfrey said. “But it was just a kiss, what is so indecent about it?”

“It's not like you never have kissed before, have you, captain?”, Hilda asked.

Ornstein, with his mind still on the dream, backed away even further and ultimately fled from the scene, leaving the dazzled silver knight couple behind.

Ornstein took a few deep breathes, he really didn't want to think about kisses anymore. He was strolling along the street without having a clear goal in mind or paying attention to where he went, when he suddenly heard someone call out.

“Kisses, fresh kisses! Come and buy them as long as they are warm!”

Ornstein swirled around. Apparently, he was on the market place and the booth that just tried to sold kisses actually tried to sold quiches. His mind certainly was playing tricks on him when he misheard something like this. The vendor had apparently noticed that Ornstein stared at him and asked: “Oh, Sir Ornstein, do you want to get a kiss?” There, it had happened again.

Ornstein backed away from him, muttering an excuse of not feeling well and having to retreat for the day, making a beeline for the cathedral in full speed, making quite a few heads turn staring after him.

Back at the cathedral, Ornstein had made himself comfortable on his bed and tried to read some book, but quickly discarded any novel with romance elements, usually one of his weaknesses, when the couples got into the kissing part. So all what was left where some books about the kingdom's history and to look at that only hurt Ornstein, so he decided to just go to bed early, try to sleep it off.

Even though he was a bit wary. What if the dream returned? What if Artorias was kissing the beast again? His heart got a bit faster when he thought about it.

However, maybe he was too obsessed with it already. Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him, he had seen someone kiss and it incorporated in his dream. Maybe tonight he had luck and the nightmare wouldn't happened. And when... then Ornstein would be actually glad to see it play out normally. The kiss just had been too weird.

Ornstein closed his eyes and soon managed to drift to sleep.

***

When he opened his eyes, he was in the forest again, sitting right next to Artorias.

“Ornstein, you have returned!”, Artorias excitedly exclaimed.

Wait, that had never happened before. It was like... the dream picked up where he had left. And Ornstein had left the dream when... Artorias had kissed the beast! Ornstein shot up and glanced around, searching for any traces of the beast.

“What is wrong, Ornstein?”, Artorias wanted to know.

Ornstein glanced in all directions a second time and then took a deep breath, unsure if he even needed it, he was in a dream after all.

“Artorias, I, uh... this probably sounds really stupid.”, Ornstein started.

“Please, Ornstein, you are my friend. You can tell me everything.”, Artorias smiled at him and the image of his dead friend in his dream made Ornstein's stomach churn. He felt far too real!

“Haveyoukissedthebeastoftheabyss?”, Ornstein sputtered out.

Artorias stared at him with his eyes wide open. “What? Ornstein, you need to speak slower, I couldn't understand a word.”

What was he even doing? Talking to the image of Artorias in his dream as if he was real. How should dream Artorias even know what Ornstein had dreamed of the night before. Ornstein let himself fall on the ground.

“Nothing, sorry to bother you.”, he said. He would just wait until the dream would play out like usual, with Artorias getting swallowed by the abyss. As much as it hurt Ornstein to see this scene again and again, it was loads better than his friend openly embracing – or kissing – the abyss.

“By the way, Ornstein, have I already introduced you to my new partner?”, Artorias asked and Ornstein froze when he saw the beast of the abyss taking shape right next to Artorias, a hand forming to stroke over Artorias shoulders and back.

“I don't... believe so...”, Ornstein's stomach twitched. He hoped he didn't need to vomit. He hadn't put the chamber pot at his bedside. It had been usual for him having to vomit after his nightmare for quite some time, but over the time he got so used to it, that the urge to vomit died down and the chamber pot wasn't needed anymore.

“He is doing everything for me I could ever wish for.”, Artorias purred, yes, he purred that words and Ornstein could only lock his gaze at the fact that the beast caressed Artorias' butt. Ornstein felt like he wanted to back away, be anywhere like here at the moment, but his body felt like paralyzed. When he tried to at least move his head not see what the beast did anymore, he noticed that the forest had fully turned into the abyss and that his body was hold down by something that felt like gooey tendrils. A rather unpleasant sensation. Ornstein could feel bile at the back of this throat as he was force to watch the scene unfolding in front of him.

The hand that had simply stroked Artorias rear before had started to undo Artorias leggings, Ornstein could see how it fell on the ground, how the hands of the beast now touched the tanned skin of Artorias butt and trailed a few fingers along it, he could hear Artorias purr and then Ornstein realized that the beast took Artorias dick into his hands, continuing the strokes, getting it to an erection, stroking it first gently, then faster, rubbing it vigorously while Artorias moaned in pleasure until he came right into the beast's face. And the beast actually opened its mouth to lick Artorias cum, looking rather satisfied to taste it.

The next thing Ornstein knew was that he sat up straight in his bed, body drenched in cold sweat. The bile that he had felt in the dream now very much felt like a reality. Ornstein never had been so quick to exit his bed, get the chamber pot from under it to vomit his guts out in disgust.

“Kissing was better than this.”, Ornstein murmured after his stomach had calmed down. Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/185085867229/title-the-living-dreams-chapter-3-fandom-dark

#dark souls #fanfiction #lemon #dragon slayer ornstein #artorias the abysswalker #manus father of the abyss #silver knights #amanus #tw emetophobia #littlewritesstuff

3 notes · View notes

mrslittletall · 5 years

Text

Title: Keeping it together (Chapter 17) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Dark Sun Gwyndolin, Silver Knights Word Count: 2.841 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328084/chapters/42025085 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/182760646054/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-16

Summary: Back in Anor Londo, Ornstein needs to get an overview.

(Author's note: Difficult chapter was difficult. Hope you like. I have to admit, this is the part of the story that hasn't sit in my head for several months now, so I have to make up stuff while I write it. Hope it is enjoyable ^^)

When Ornstein awoke, the morning sun already shone through his window. He released his comfort pillow, stretched and made his way out of bed, relieved that no nightmare had come to him this time. He made himself ready for the day, sure that a long one was in front of him, when his stomach loudly reminded him that it demanded some food.

“Oh right, I better get some breakfast.”, Ornstein murmured to himself, wondering if he could meet up with Ciaran for it, when he remembered. Oh, right, she hadn't come back with him. With a deep sigh, Ornstein finished dressing with putting on his helmet and made his way to the mess hall.

When Ornstein sat down at the table of the four knights, he felt several eyes stare into his direction. He knew the silver knights were dying for some answers, in fact, he could hear them whispering with each other. Another part of him however felt, they were staring because he was sitting alone at that table now. Granted, he had sat alone at this table for a while now, but back then everyone had assumed that Artorias and Ciaran would have come back. And then their captain had vanished too for a few days, leaving them completely in the dark. Still, he started to feel uncomfortable under their stares and whispering, it felt weird enough for him already to have returned alone, having to sit on the special table for the knights of Gwyn on his own. He tried to concentrate on his food instead, but gobbled it down too quickly in an attempt to escape this onerous atmosphere, feeling his stomach slightly cramp in protest.

The next step was the roll call for the silver knights. When Ornstein arrived, most of them had already gathered, the clanking of armour and weapons as well as their whisperings were filling the room. Ornstein walked up to his usual position, turned around and raised his voice.

“Silver knights, assemble!”, he shouted, waiting a bit for them to turn their attention to him and for the late-comers to take in their places. As he was sure that each and every silver knight was listening, he started to talk:

“It surely has already been brought to your attention, that I was called to Oolacile by Ciaran because of a grave problem that happened. And hereby I have to inform you, that sadly Artorias has fallen in battle.”

Ornstein stopped, giving the silver knights some time to process this information. He heard them gasp, whispering with each other, he had the impression he could hear some of them sobbing.

After a short while, one of the silver knights raised their voice: “Captain, how did it happen?” Ornstein could hear affirmative mumbling from some of the others.

“So, while Artorias was able to slay the beast that tormented Oolacile and save the town out of the clutches of the abyss, sadly, he also lost his life, succumbing to his injuries shortly after he succeeded his mission.”

Ornstein felt a pang in his stomach, the cramps in it feeling a bit worse. He knew he couldn't tell his silver knights the truth, they needed to look up to Artorias as a hero, not a failure. He could hear the silver knights hastily discussing with each other.

“Silence.”, Ornstein shouted, slightly annoyed and the silver knights stopped their talking at once, a bunch of winged helmets turned into his direction.

“The reason for my absence this past days has been, that I needed to attend the burial ceremony. Artorias has been gifted a grave by Oolacile and now rests in the royal garden. We have to make sure that he can rest in piece and I would like for you all to partake in a moment of silence, praying for his soul.”

Ornstein took in the prayer stance and watched from the corner of his visor that the silver knights were doing the same. A short while later, a collective “May the flames guide this soul.” sounded and the silver knights once again stared at Ornstein.

“So, because of my absence I need an overview about what happened.”, Ornstein continued. “I have put Amira and Terrick in charge, so I expect you two to give me your report before you start your duties. For the rest of you, your new orders will be given out at the evening call. You are dismissed.”

The two silver knights Ornstein had mentioned parted from the group and waited for the other silver knights to spread out. As soon as he had dismissed them, their whispering and murmuring to each other resumed. Ornstein couldn't blame them for it, it had been a lot to take in. Ornstein strolled into the direction of Amira and Terrick.

“Let's go to the conference room.”, he said to them and led the way.

“Captain.”, Amira suddenly said, “This must have been a harsh shock for you. We understand if you need some time to work through this.”

Ornstein stopped dead in his tracks, making the two almost bump into him. “I did had enough time for it already, it is time to properly get back to my duties.”, he said, but the cramps in his stomach said otherwise.

“We perfectly know how close you and Artorias were, captain.”, Terrick added. “We are just worried, that is all.”

“I am fine.”, Ornstein said, knowing what a blatant lie this was, but he banned it into the back of his head and opened the door to the conference room, taking his usual seat, while the two silver knight just stood there, looking around, unsure of what to do.

“Please, sit down.”, Ornstein said and gestured to the stools. Amira and Terrick reluctantly came forward and sat down each, her in the place of Ciaran and him in the place of Artorias. Another pang crawled into Ornstein's stomach and he started to regret that he had breakfast.

“So, I bumped into Herman yesterday and he already told me that there is quite some trouble.”, Ornstein started. “Please give me your reports.”

“Of course, captain.”, Amira said and took a bunch of papers out of her armour, Ornstein briefly wondered if she had been carrying them around this whole time, “The most trouble we have lately are the increased numbers of Undead in the human population. The curse of the dark sign has gotten more and more common, it seems. Only a small part of the undead population admit it and are going to the asylum on their own free will. The larger part hides it, often protected by their relatives and then cause havoc when they go hollow, making it very troublesome to ship them off to the asylum.”

“This is indeed a huge problem, if people don't follow the rules.”, Ornstein said. “Form teams to hunt down any hollow you can find. And I shall speak to Gwyndolin about it, so that we can ensure rules, that the human population gets checked for the dark sign.”

He sighed, continuing: “The humans probably won't like this, but we can't keep hollows letting damage our reputation and our citizens. What happened with the people who were protecting the cursed ones?”

“They faced trial and got found to be guilty and shall be executed to death. They are in the dungeons now, the executioner Smough is ready to do his job, but a authoritarian figure was missing for it, cause our Lord Gwyndolin refused to attend them. So it would be good if you could talk to the executioner as soon as possible, the dungeon has gotten quite full lately.”

Ornstein sighed again, it wasn't a secret that he and the executioner didn't like each other a lot. And how would he react now, that Ornstein came back alone, after been denied the ranks of the four knights of Gwyn for so long? Ornstein knew he was strong enough and he must possess a special soul, cause the executioner was living as long as Ornstein was now. Still, with his cannibalistic behaviour, Ornstein just couldn't let him join the ranks of the four knights. Even though they were down to only him now.

“At least that means Smough won't go hungry.”, Ornstein said with a grim face, noticing the two silver knights staring at each other for a second. “I have been noted that demon's have wandered into the Burg from Lost Izalith. What are the black knights doing?”

Terrick and Amira share another look and this time Terrick began to speak: “Like you know, most of the remaining black knights have taken it to themselves to fight the demon threat directly in Izalith. However, lately we didn't had any reports from them, so we can only assume the worst... The remaining black knights have gone searching for their missing comrades, but none of them has returned yet. Thus is why the demon threat in the Burg hasn't been taken care off yet.”

“This is really troublesome.”, Ornstein murmured. “Demon's may not be very intelligent, but they are fearsome foes. I should take care of this one personally. And if there hasn't been a report in a week, we have to make sure to find out what happened to the remaining black knights.”

“So you are going to fight the demon on your own, captain? I will give you the exact location of its sighting later then.”, Terrick said.

“Yes, I am used to fight huge foes anyway, it is easier going on my own than lead a troop of silver knights against it.”, Ornstein said. “Anything else to report?”

“Yes, we have trouble with the dark wraithes in New Londo, terrorizing the citizens there.”, Amira took up the word again. “We were hoping for Sir Artorias to take care off this problem once he returned, but...”, she trailed off.

Ornstein felt his stomach cramp up once again and now a bout of nausea washed over him too. It had only been a few days and this much trouble had occurred. At least he couldn't complain that it would get boring for him.

“Normally Artorias would take care of this threat, you are right.”, he murmured more to himself before raising his voice. “We need some scouting work in New Londo, find out where and when the dark wraithes normally strike. Make sure to get relief supplies to New Londo and every citizen who searches shelter shall be welcome here, but search them for the dark sign first.”, Ornstein ordered. “Oh, I just remembered, we need relief supplies for Oolacile too. Can you make sure that some are getting send there?”

“Noted, captain. We shall make sure to fill out your orders.”, Amira said. “That should have been all. Apart of the paperwork of course. Shall I get it to your room?”

“Yes, please.”, Ornstein nodded, internally groaning at the paperwork. Usually Artorias would help him out with it, cause of his handwriting. But Artorias wasn't there anymore... “And... find the silver knight with the nicest handwriting and give me their name.”, he added.

“As you wish.”, Amira and Terrick both stood up and bowed to him. “Can we go back to our duties now?”

“Yes, you are dismissed.”, Ornstein said absentminded while watching the two silver knights leaving a room. He had a lot on his mind right now. He probably should go talk to Gwyndolin first, they surely were worried about him and he should inform them about the talk he had with his silver knights. Ornstein left the room, but was stopped on his way when he he felt a presence in the hallway.

“No need to hide yourself, come out.”, he shouted and the lord's blade revealed herself.

“Sir Ornstein, you surely happen to know about Lady Ciaran's whereabouts.”, she said.

Ornstein swallowed. A thing he nearly forgot. He had to tell the lord's blades the truth about Ciaran's decision. He braced himself when he opened his mouth: “Ciaran told me that she is not coming back. The lord's blade are hereby disbanded. You are all free to go where you want.”

The woman just stared at him, he could feel it even through her mask, the sense of disbelief, but she recovered quickly: “If that is the wish of our Lady Ciaran, then I will tell the other lord's blades. Farewell, dragon slayer.”

“Maybe I can ask Gwyndolin if you can serve as their dark moon blades.”, Ornstein said but the lord's blade had already been gone. Ornstein's stomach ache tightened and his nausea intensified in a way that he had to stop and take a few deep breathes.

“Keep it together.”, he murmured to himself, slowly trotting to the Dark Moon Tomb where he was let in by Gwyndolin, who awaited him at the end of the hallway sitting in a chair.

“Ornstein, since when are you back? You should have send a message.”, they said.

“...Sorry, I... forgot.”, Ornstein averted his gaze and stared at the floor, trying to concentrate on a pattern in it. Why hadn't he thought about sending a bird to inform Gwyndolin about everything? He blamed the whole burial ceremony stress for it.

“How was the burial ceremony?” Gwyndolin raised their catalyst and conjured a second chair next to them, gesturing at Ornstein to sit down on it, which he did.

“Everything was going exactly as planned. It was a wonderful ceremony and Artorias has gotten a wonderful grave. Princess Dusk and I have hold a speech for him both. His soul surely is on the way to Nito now. Sif stayed at his grave. And so... did Ciaran.”

Even though Gwyndolin's eyes were covered by a mask, Ornstein could see their surprise. He knew them long enough now. It was the way they shifted, the tiny gasp he heard and the way their snakes withdrew.

“I want to say that I am not surprised.”, they started. “But that would be a lie.”

“I know.”, Ornstein said. “I was convinced she would return with me to the cathedral.”

“What about the lord's blades?”

“She said to me to disband them. Before I came here I met one of them and delivered her message. I wanted to ask if they would be able to serve as your dark moon blades, of course only if they want to.”

Gwyndolin seemed to consider it. “Yes, they could serve as my dark moon blades. After all, since my father and my sister left, there haven't been many political enemies we had to take care off. And for every sinner I have the dark moon blades ready. I guess Anor Londo doesn't has a need for assassin's anymore. I will submit my offer to them.”

Both of them fell into silence after this. Both of them knew that Anor Londo wasn't anymore what it once had been. That since Lord Gwyn left, it had lost a lot of its glory. Gwyndolin was doing their best, Ornstein knew it, but he also knew, that there was another reason for Ciaran not coming back. She had given up on Anor Londo, while he still hold onto some faint hope.

“So, any reports?”, Gwyndolin asked.

“Yes.”, Ornstein said. “I have ordered the silver knights to send relief supplies to Oolacile and New Londo, apparently the latter is under attack from the dark wraiths. I have also told that we would take in any refugees, but...”, Ornstein swallowed, “with the curse of the dark sign and the trouble it brought, we can't let the human population go unsupervised anymore. We have to check every human who comes in for the dark sign.”

“Once Anor Londo was home to many deities and divines, but a lot of them left sadly, so that we have to rely on the human population to fill out the gaps... with the curse we surely can't let them go unsupervised anymore.”, Gwyndolin said. “But which forces should we use to control the borders? The silver knights are struggling with their tasks, a lot of them left with my sister. Maybe you should think about recruiting some more?”

“If anyone still wants to be a silver knight. I will make sure to get some recruit posters plastered over town.”, Ornstein sighed. “Well, I better go now, there have been demon sightings in the burg and I wanted to take care of it personally.” Ornstein stood up from the chair which promptly vanished. “I will come back to visit once I have time.”

As Ornstein was on his way out of the tomb, he heard Gwyndolin's voice behind him: “Ornstein, are you alright?”

He turned around, looked at them, his stomach cramping with pain, forced a smile, forgetting that he was wearing his helmet and just said: “Don't worry, I am fine.” (Author's note: “Stomach aches? Nausea? Nightmares? I don't know what you are talking about, I am completely fine.” - Dragon Slayer Ornstein) Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/183025659429/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-18

#dark souls #fanfiction #dragon slayer ornstein #dark sun gwyndolin #silver knights #littlewritesstuff #oh no I gave the silver knights names!#it won't take long and they have family and a backstory!#what have I done?

6 notes · View notes

drunkenworgen · 6 years

Text

shipping stuff

Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. REPOST. Don’t reblog.

WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?: GinxTerrick, as much as I love her other ships, that one is her healthiest ship, though it has its fair share of angst as well. And if Lorna Crowley approached Gin, she would not say no.

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?: Pretty much anything. I will not do underage shipping (meaning either mun or muse are underage) at all, though Gin probably won’t even look at your (male) muses if they’re not at least fifteen years older than her. I don’t know why this happened, it just did and we’re rolling with it. Girl likes older men.

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?: I mean...as stated above, Gin has a thing for older men, and typically goes for women a bit closer to her own age (though there have been exceptions). Her current ships have gaps of 16 years, 18 years, and 154 years, respectively. Honestly, I work more on chemistry than I do on age, though - again - nothing underage. If the other character is between about 18-24, though, there is a bit of a maturity factor that sometimes comes into play, but again, I work more on chemistry than age. So, even if you’re within that “older man” or “slightly younger woman” category, if you’re a creep or an asshole, she won’t give you the time of day.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?: Yes. There has to be chemistry between the two muses, of course.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NSFW?: Anything that would get you thrown out of a public area, really. If it would make you uncomfortable to watch in a movie with your mom in the same room, it’s NSFW and goin’ on the sin blog.

WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?: Terrick ( @terrick-ebonsteed ), Gatz ( @brashtide-menace ), and Seaandra ( @unholysunblade ) are the three you’ll see on this blog the most. Though GinxTerrick is mostly just drabble pieces from me as he doesn’t use his blog much. There are a few others that haven’t really...launched, but there has been lots of plotting.

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?: Yes.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?: It’s not my main focus, but I do get in shippy moods. I just like RPing, man. RP all the things.

ARE YOU MULTISHIP?: Yes. Each ship is its own AU, though.

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?: Ehhh, more-or-less, I suppose. Though poor Terr does get bombarded with 3AM angst thoughts from me when my insomnia is acting up. So does Losty. Sorry, guys.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?: I like to read about all the ships, but I’m gonna be honest and say I’m enjoying reading the Khadjet threads between @brashtide-menace and @walkingdisasterofamage when they pop up on my dash.

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?: Approach me with your idea and we can do a thread and see where it goes, yo.

TAGGED BY: @lady-proudmoore TAGGING: Hm. @areniaagn, @brashtide-menace, @anierous-sunblade, @wiedaashcroft, and @ursen-the-valorous. (Please don’t feel obligated, of course.)

#shippy things #ladyproudmoore #terrickebonsteed #brashtidemenace #unholysunblade #areniaagn #anieroussunblade #wiedaashcroft #ursenthevalorous

9 notes · View notes

drunkenworgen · 7 years

Text

Searching

(From an RP between @terrick-ebonsteed and I as Gin deals with whatever Void corruption is lurking within her.)

A portal from the Mage Quarter to the Blasted Lands, followed by a quick flight to the coast and she was home. Her mind was racing as she practically burst through the door, quickly vaulting over packed crates and past a confused and shirtless Terrick to get to the stairs. There was a key she was looking for, to her father’s shop. Not that she really expected it to still be locked after all these years, but...just in case. The woman was so preoccupied in her search that she didn’t notice her husband follow her up the stairs, broken out of her stupor by the sound of the ice in his whiskey.

“What’s up, lass?” He blinked a few times, clearly confused and concerned seeing his wife in such a state, his brow raising higher.

Gin remained silent at first, letting out a soft grunt as she stood, clutching the key to herself. “Ah don’...righ’ly know,” she muttered, turning her gaze towards him. Where he had clearly been relaxing at home, Gin was still dressed in her field armor, and he may be able to detect a small hint of Shadows still clinging to her. “There wus an issue on Argus...sent me ‘ome. Go’ back t’Stormwind an’ some bastard asked me ‘bout m’sister an’ tried t’...dunno, actually.” Her frown only deepened as she spoke, her hands moving up to rub at her temples.

Terrick took a moment as he processed what she was saying, polishing off his whiskey before slamming his dagger into the table, next to the countless other marks from the same actions. Still silent, he removed the Uncrowned insignia from his belt - the one marking him as an assassin for Raveholdt - before stepping towards his wife. A rough, scarred hand reached out to her, cupping her cheek, a rather comforting feeling for her. “Your sister is dead,” he muttered, placing a soft kiss to her forehead as he wrapped his free arm around her back.

“Argus is a place where a lot is goin’ on, I have no place there, but...I am glad yer back, love. I missed ye.” His tone was soft, his words sincere and heartfelt as he frowned as well. “Sit an’ tell me whot troubles ye, my dove.” His crimson eyes - duller than usual - swirled with magics similar to the Shadows, though his curse had been weakening since the days of old, to the point of him beginning to show signs of aging. Those ebon locks brushed with more grey than before, even his facial hair was beginning to grey.

She sighed, leaning into his touch. “They asked if ah knew someone named Abi...as if they’d spoken t’er recently.” Sapphire eyes met his red ones, her frown softening slightly. “An’...wot ‘appened on Argus wus...Terrick, ah ‘eard voices as soon as ah stepped foot on Mac’aree. Loud voices ‘at no one else could ‘ear.” She sat on the bed now, head in her hands. “Dunno wot y’know ‘bout Argus, but Mac’aree ‘s pretty...consumed by th’Void.”

The man scowled at the mention of the Void, his eyes softening some as he ran his fingers through his hair, ending with a curl of her locks. “I love ye, bu’ th’Void is a troublesome thing,” he spoke softly before leaning into her for a quick kiss. “You cannot give intae it. Yer a strong, lass, an’ I believe in ya. Remember I used tae struggle with the same plague upon me.” As he spoke, his left pupil sparked to life with a certain darkness: a clouded Shadow aura, a marker to remind him of Terror and what that part of him had done. “The Void is a scar. Ya simply hafta treat it with a certain...care.” His eyes closed as he moved to press his head against hers.” “Ye either hafta cut it out or seek out aid of those who wield th’Light.”

Gin breathed in deeply, inhaling his scent as she memorized everything she could about him. “...ah need t’go ‘ome. ‘Ome- ‘ome. Gilneas. Jus’ fer a lil’ bit, an’ ah don’ plan on goin’ back t’Argus ‘til this is all sorted,” her arms wrapped around him as she spoke, sighing softly. “Love, ah know ‘s dangerous, an’ yet ah still married ya.” A sad attempt at humor to lighten the mood.

“This...wusn’ th’firs’ time ah’ve ‘eard voices, jus’ th’loudest,” she murmured. There was a long pause, in which Gin simply held him, fingers tracing over scars. “Ah need ya...t’do me a favor. Ah promise ah’ll be quick an’ careful, bu’ please -” she tilted her head to look up at him - “ah dunno who is tryna follow me or why, bu’ ah need ya t’take th’twins an’ jus’...go somewhere safe fer a bit. Ah don’ wanna know where.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. “You don’ need tae do this alone, ye got a husban an’ two lovin’ chil’ns,” his tone held a slight bit of irritation to it. “Ye don’ need tae go back tae Argus, eitha,” he grumbled. He was rather upset at the thought of his wife coming home from a different planet, only to be leaving again for parts unknown. “The Forsaken forces are still in tha’ area.”

“An’ ah’ve snuck past ‘em Light knows ‘ow many times,” her voice was almost pleading with him as she stared into his eyes. “Terr, ah promise...ah won’ try an’ tackle this alone, bu’ ah can’ lose ya or them.” As she continued speaking, her tone grew more urgent. “Ah...this part - jus’ this part - ah need t’do alone. ‘S easier fer me t’sneak in by m’self, an’ ah jus’...ah canno’ lose ya like ah los’ Charli!” Sheshouted the last half of her sentence, before pressing her head to his chest. “If ah don’ know where ya are, then no one else can find out. An’ ah promise ah will be safe, Terr. Me ‘avin’ you an’ th’twins ‘s th’exact reason why ah need ya safe.”

Slowly, the man reached into the pouch he usually carried his poisons in, pulling out another, moreornate looking key. “This wos from m’brother, Drix,” his tone was dark as he turned to look at Gin. “It’s tae the tower at the Ebonsteed estate, if’n ya need a place secure to rest,” he sighed heavily, sorrow in his eyes as he looked at her.

“I trust ye...I trust ye with my life.” As he continued speaking, his tone darkened again, reminiscent of when they had first met and he was more Terror than Terrick. “If’n ya get intae trouble? Use that connection with tha Void tae contact me - well...not me,” he placed a hand against his bare chest. “The me within. He’s still dormant, but ya can mos’ likely reach him.”

Taking the key, she’d place it in her own pouch, a look of relief washing over her face. “Ah’ll try no’ t’use it,” she replied, lacing her fingers with his. “Th’connection, ah mean. An’ ah promise...ah’ll be quick. Ah jus’ need t’look fer somethin’ in m’da’s shop. Keep them out o’sigh’...safe.” Her gaze turned to to the twins’ room, eyeing it sadly. She’d give anything to ensure they grew up safe...with their parents. “Ah love ya, Terr.”

“Ah love ya, too, dove.” His eyes closed as he took his wife’s hand to his lips, kissing the back of it lovingly. “Ye don’ have ta worry about them, I’ve got safehouses,” his voice trailed off as the stood in silence for a few moments, before he let out a soft sigh. “Ah’ll miss ya, love...they’ll miss ya.”

Her response was a simple nod, at first, still looking towards the door to the twins’ room. “Ah miss ya all th’bloody time,” she muttered.

“Four days,” she whispered against him. “Four days, an’ if yeh’ve no’ ‘eard from by then, then come find me, yeah?”

“I will, and I will find you,” his voice held a grim tone as he spoke, his eyes flourishing to life as his curse coursed through his veins. “I love ya.”

( @areniaagn, @lucentlycanthrope, @dear-dark-sister, @confessor-caleb for plot things.)

#v; main #shadows play #GinxTerrick #terrickebonsteed #areniaagn #lucentlycanthrope #deardarksister #confessorcaleb

2 notes · View notes