"So, were you always that tall, or did you suddenly like, sprout, or something?" A frank knight asked the skyscraper. Said skyscraper blushed in that rosy way that those who lack a proper response often do.
"I- I mean- Why art thou so short? Art thou really just a prepubescent, or did thou simply not drink enough milk as one?" The pinnacle of sass bit back. Said man was a bit miffed at that in a way most men are when their totally secure masculinity is called into question. He would have fired shots in return, but the chill suddenly got to him, sterling armor not helping the fact. He was the light of the world, the future king of man, the chosen undead. And he was very, very cold. The tower of fluff noticed this fact, and lifted an arm from where she was sitting, wordlessly communicating her invitation.
"T-Thanks. Do you ever get cold?" Our protagonist asked, shuffling over to warmth in a way that allayed the cold short-term but facilitated a longer walk overall. The dragon girl laughed
"Not often, small one, but when I do, it's not for long." The weather was typically a cold, snowy affair in the painting. Sometimes more so, sometimes less so, but always so. The chosen undead reached his hideaway and snuggled into the warmest tuft of fur he could, causing the source to blush madly. "Hey, d-don't get too comfortable."
A muffled, half-assed sorry was muttered in response to the half-assed warning. The chosen prided himself with his unique set of circumstances. Not many could say they cuddled a hot piece of dragon ass. Eventually, the awkwardness of the situation was snuffed by the cold, and the two beings were lulled into a comfortable silence, only interrupted by the howling winds.
"So, how's it been?" The undead asked, breaking the silence.
"Oh, it's been calm since thine last visit. Thomas came by, he even gave me a present!" The undead rustled.
"Who was Thomas, again?"
"Hmph. I've already told you, he's the knight who guards this room, you always pass him on your way here. Do you even listen, knave?" Priscilla often slipped on her royal dialect when frustrated without knowing, which was as amusing as it was a warning, often to apologize.
"Sorry, sorry. It's been a while, and you know my memory isn't what it used to be."
"Hm. Thine apology is accepted," his friend said "but what of thou," She paused "How'st thine quest proceed'st?"
"Was that even a real sentence?" His blanket swatted him with her tail, and he acquiesced. "Okay, okay. Real sentence, you win. Feel better?" Her dialect was a touchy subject with her, as she was often made to feel improper with her speech, being drilled to use thine and thou as a child.
"Quite." Was her only response.
"Well, since last time? Figured I'd finally get to killing Nito, he's been a bitch and a half for a while, let me tell you." The beanie baby sat, massaging his helmeted skull. His tales of the outside were eternally interesting to Priscilla, seeing as she couldn't exactly leave. He was her inlet to the outside, to the world, and listened with rapt attention to his often embellished tales. "First this weird guy with like, a hundred masks tries to get me after I just waded through a swamp of sentient spikes, then it gets super dark so I can't use my shield, then this bald guy kicks me down a cliff, and that's just the first couple hours!" Priscilla was certain half of that was false, but she listened on. "I'm not exaggerating the dark part, some asshole decided it'd be great to never put any torches down there. And, god," she could feel his shudder "the skeleton monsters. They were as long as you are tall, Priscilla! Feral beasts, more dog than man."
"That sounds terrifying." She interjected, not entirely convinced.
"I swear on my knights honor, Prissy. My honor!" he pleaded. He felt her heat up.
"Prissy?"
"Yeah, I've been brainstorming a nickname for you for a while now, and I landed on that. Do you like it?" Our metal man looked up from his nook, and found a new expression on his friend's face. Before he could process what exactly it meant, he was scooped in an embrace.
"I love it."
~ UwU ~
The weather was approximately negative one billion in the painted world, if the chosen had to make a conservative guess. But that didn't bother him, not today. He found his best friend a new thing! She loved when he brought her things, and what are friends for if not the giving and receiving of things? Very little, that's what.
"Yo! Prissy! What's up?" The diminutive man cheered, startling his companion, who wasn't expecting some asshole to pop up from behind her. "Check it out! I was looking through some of my bags, and I found this old thing." He held out the doll he found in his old cell. She looked shocked at his gift.
"Whence did thou find this?" She said, breathlessly. "I haven't seen this doll in years."
"Wait, you mean that's yours?" He said, skeptically. "I found it in the Asylum. In my old cell. After I left. Huh." How did it get there? In all fairness, at the time he had already been snatched by a bird, put down an old friend, slayed a demon, and been killed one too many times by the knight guarding his cell, so the logistics of how and why there was a little doll there wasn't high on his priorities. Before he had time to meditate on that happenstance, his maiden in white got that look on her face again, that quirk of her eyes that made him remember how small he was in her presence. Maybe predatory was the right word. He wasn't sure when her hands grasped him, but they held him to her face in no time.
"Thank you," she kissed my helmet, then pouted "art thou ever going to let me remove that metal? I seeth not a need to protect thyself here."
"Haven't we had this conversation before?" The stubborn fool asked. "I told you, I could die anytime! Fifty percent of attacks are surprise attacks. And I don't want any of this," he gestured to his body "to get damaged so far from a bonfire. I'm kinda stacked right now, if I'm honest." He finished, lying through his teeth. He was broke and a soft two, and didn't want the solid ten to know. He was also one of the best liars in the world, according to himself. He wriggled out of her grasp and hit the floor with a thud. "It's been nice, but I really must get going. World isn't going to save itself, y'know." Priscilla opened her mouth, but caught herself before she spoke, then gave a wave.
The chosen thought that was a bit weird, but dismissed that train of thought, because he was of the opinion that dissecting small things other people do lead only to suspicion and unrealistic hopes, but that didn't stop him from looking over his shoulder in one last fleeting moment before taking the plunge, and contented himself with that smile he so often got to see.
- O w O -
"Hey, what do you think love is?" The chosen asked his friend. "You think love is really love when you only have so many options to choose from?"
"That's a really weirdly asked question." The friend replied honestly.
"Well, if it were just you and a girl alone on a dangerous island, barring her being some ultra bitch, you'd fall in love with her eventually, right?" He scratched his chin, not feeling the need to don a helmet. "But would that really be real? I mean, if suddenly you were whisked back to civilization, would that love last? Maybe it was just the circumstances that lead to the love, and not any honest feelings on her part," the chosen coughed "I mean, on anyone's part."
His friend was silent for a moment. "Well, in this totally hypothetical situation, I'd say that maybe that's how every romance can be boiled down. You can qualify something all day, but if you love someone you love someone, and that's all that really matters."
"Y'know, I never thought about it that way, Griggs. Thanks!"
Griggs looked pleased. "Don't worry about it, helps stave off the boredom. Now go on, I've spells to practice, weapons to smith."
"Duces, Griggy!" The chosen hollered back on his way up the steps.
"I told you not to call me that!"
Today was a better day than the last, if Priscilla had anything to say about it. It being a day that the knight had decided to pop up was a coincidence, though. He simply popped up at a good time - that was all.
If she were honest, she had taken a shining to the frequent intruder. She often had no company, and when she did it was often sour. Most people loathed her on principal, others feared her ability. Those that exuded faux kindness had suddenly vanished when she was disowned, no longer being useful to their venal tendencies. Not him, however; he was kind to her since the day she met him, and she couldn't find a reason that he might gain from their arrangement.
"So then I told her I thought she was taking her caws way too seriously!" She really wanted to not laugh at that, but the frothing giggles would know no mortal bound. Priscilla then came to the realization, among her giggles, that she didn't really know much about the man sitting in front of her - he could have been a murderer, a thief, a vagabond. She then realized that she didn't care. He was kind to her and the denizens of the painted world, he was a gallant knight, a shining beacon of light in the dour atmosphere around her, and the grey clouds that surrounded her didn't feel so sad when he was around. She didn't much care for his past or profession, so long as he was he. It made her smile in that goofy way he does when he thinks she isn't paying attention. In wake of such insight, she knew of only one recourse.
"Sir Knight, come closer." The large woman moved to the edge of the arena she called home, and patted the space beside her. The knight closed the space, and sat close to her. Priscilla draped a wing around him and pulled him to her side.
"W-what's this about, Prissy?" The knight asked, quaking. It was just a long fall, of course. The object of his desire craned down on him and smiled as the grey sky rolled ahead of them, churning off to an unseeable destiny, an unperceived course. The warmth cradled beside Priscilla told her it didn't quite matter where they were going or where they came from, so long as it stayed beside her.
"Nothing, Sir Knight. Nothing at all."
The knight was quite content with that.