21
The Irony of Seeking Out

Solaire
Sen's Fortress

Talisman gripped in hand, the Warrior of Sunlight did what he could to circle the monstrous, stony abomination. Kirk and Lol'th were running distraction duty upon the titanite beast before them, but he was their weakness. In spite of it wielding the gods' lightning, it was weak to the selfsame force. That's where he came in. Slogging forward, the tar gripping his feet, slowing his movement, Solaire gave his prayer. There's more to your spear than merely a javelin to be thrown, Lol'th had told him. In the days of the war against the dragons, father teaches that the gods would take their Spears, and drive them directly into the flesh of the dragons, staking it into their weak spots.

Okay, he thought to himself, sheathing his sword, and preparing to grapple. Time to ignore all my training for safety, and be reckless. Grabbing at the monstrosity's back, he clambered up as best as he could, and charged his Spear. In it, he poured more than just his prayer. He emptied his fury, his frustration, his seeking desire for his own Sun and, taking the spear in hand, drove it into the stone creature's head. Bellowing in pain, the creature reared, and Solaire withdrew the spear, an extension of himself, and slammed again, and again. With a mighty bellow, the monstrosity fell still, leaving some of it's flesh behind. Taking the demon titanite, Kirk pocketed it.

"That's the last of them, correct?" At Lol'th's nodding, Kirk smiled. "Told her us three would be sufficient."

"Whom?" Solaire asked, curious. "Your mother?"

"Nay, Solaire," the demon princess responded. "Our aunt. Well. Sort of aunt." As they talked they ascended the ladder leading back to the proper fortress. "Have you ever had a friend that was close enough that they were basically family? That's basically what our aunt is. She's not related by blood, but she may as well be."

"I see," Solaire said thoughtfully. "May I ask why she wondered at your numbers?"

"Oh, it is quite simple," Kirk responded. "She is... unused to combat as a whole, favoring to stay out of it. And she's... not exactly the most self-confident." Kirk suddenly shivered slightly. "She's close though. That aura is unmistakable."

Lol'th immediately perked up. "She came? I knew she would!"

Solaire immediately felt as though he was carry-along baggage. "Whom? Your aunt?" It was then he felt the aura. Dark, and powerful, but not oppressive. A slight chill touched his heart, and he would have swore his heart lightly crawled, as though it sensed danger, but the Chaos Siblings seemed to be calm, excited even, so he refrained from raising his blade. Waiting near the top of the ladder the party remained, with his brother conversing with a woman he had never seen before. He would swear by those words, for she was an unforgettable sight. Like Rhea, she was dressed entirely in white robes. Unlike Rhea, she was incredibly tall, barefoot, with hair as white as her soft dress cascading down her face. Also unlike Rhea, she bore an incredibly soft-looking tail coated in white fur.

Thomas
Painted World of Ariamis

"You know, I expected a few things to be different. Especially when I learned that my fuckery extended to the past. I didn't expect this bossroom to be completely empty and open, though." The bossroom in question, of course, belonged to the Crossbreed, Priscilla. Technically speaking, it wasn't completely empty. There was a chair, and a bonfire which, upon resting at it, he was immediately grateful. He just expected Priscilla to be here. "Let me guess. While I'm in the past, I manage to extradite her."

"Why, yes," Beatrice responded. "You also tried to teach her to utilize her powers as Lifehunter. She still isn't comfortable with it, but she has a degree of practice with it, though not total control."

"You make it sound like I was trying to turn her into a weapon," Thomas said cautiously.

"To an outside observer, it would seem such. But no. You were merely trying to teach her control. Her power of Lifehunt is dangerous, and without proper control can cause great harm to those around her."

"Good," Thomas said, deciding to sit in the chair. "So… out of curiousity, what exactly is keeping me from jumping this ledge, and exiting into Anor Londo proper? I can't help but think that this is an unfortunately low level of security for an alleged enemy of the gods."

"The same force that kept Priscilla here, apart from her own fears. Nobody can leave this prison without the aid of another who entered the Painting willingly."

"And you don't count?" Thomas asked. "I thought your entire purpose here was to test me."

"Well. Yes. I intended to reach you sooner, but Gwyndolin's been trying to round up the Heretic Friends of the ever so wicked false prophet for the past couple of centuries. He managed to get ahold of me, and now has you, presumably his most valued prisoner. With you locked away, he expects the resolve of your allies to bend, to break. He expects Sen's Fortress will leave them crippled and distraught, and that if all else fails, he has an army ready to face your friends."

"Psssht!" Thomas scoffed. "Please. His "army" of illusions only look scary. Those giant warriors are slow, dumb, and telegraph their attacks way too hard. I daresay even Rhea could take one of them solo."

"Oh? Then how about the Blades of the Darkmoon," Beatrice countered. "The full force of Gwyndolin's loyal subjects from every world, drawn to your own, specifically to guard the Painting? An undying, eternal wave of warriors sheltered with the full power of the Dark Sun itself as they endeavor to strike you down."

The self-proclaimed Prophet gulped slightly. "That… That might be an issue."

"He's waiting for them. Watching. If they manage to get past the golem, Anor Londo goes dark, and will be on it's highest alert. Your friends will arrive there, and they'll be cut down."

Having heard enough, Thomas bolted out of his chair, heading for the ledge. "Not if I manage to get out of here first. Not if I stop him." With that, Thomas jumped, drawing his claymore on the way down. Assuming this worked, he'd have a fight ahead of him the moment he was out of the door. The wind in his face forced him to close his eyes, bracing himself…

When he opened them, he was at the bonfire in Priscilla's bossroom, Beatrice looking over him. "Foolish. Noble, that you would throw yourself into the line of fire before your friends even got to Anor Londo, but foolish, nevertheless. Didn't I explain getting out wasn't so easy?"

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Priscilla,
Sen's Fortress

"Please. I mean no harm." Inwardly, Priscilla cursed her nature, and not for the first time. To those unfamiliar with her, her very presence caused alarm, and oft fear, in proxim to her power. She had long known his words to be true. That one's physical nature does not determine a person. An Undead is not a mindless husk. A god is not infallible. A Crossbreed Lifehunter is not an abomination. But even so, those words could do nothing to assuage the pain in her chest to again witness as people recoiled before her, as though she were something hideous and monstrous, to be feared… Maybe even destroyed. It was to be expected, perhaps, but still, that didn't make her suddenly enjoy being seen as the abomination. "My name be Priscilla. I am a friend of thee, good knights." Her scythe was with her, as ever, but with her holding it as a staff, with the blade pointed behind her, she dearly hoped it was not taken as a potential threat. Hoping to help with this image, she gave a small curtsy, though she trembled slightly.

One of them, a young woman clad in white, a bladed staff in her hands, stepped forward, albeit stiffly. She too, seemed unused to the weapon in her hands, as though the rigors of this land were unknown to her, and it was clear that approaching the Crossbreed made her nervous. "I am Rhea. Priestess…" She stopped, as though catching herself. "Former… Former Priestess to the Way of White. Wouldst thou be'st the guardian of this fortress? We seek passage, as to rescue a captive friend of ours. May'st thee let us pass?"

"A friend? Could'st thou mean'st Thomas-" Priscilla asked, only for them to get interrupted by a third party. Namely, her godneice springing seemingly from nowhere to give her an embrace.

"Aunt Priscilla! You came!" Lol'th practically chirped with cheerful energy.

In spite of herself, she smiled, returning the embrace delicately. "Of course I did. Where else woulds't I be?"

"Izalith, perhaps," Kirk supplied. "Presumably taking more much-needed lessons on self-control, as you had drained the life out of some poor unsuspecting sap. Accidentally, of course." Inwardly, and not for the first time, Priscilla wept for what the Abyss did to him. She remembered him in his childhood, and while he always held his father's candor, ne'er was he practically cruel with it, until his descent into Dark. Her arms tightened slightly around Lol'th, and a single tear fell from her cheeks. Kirk seemed to shake himself out of this, and his shoulders slumped slightly. "Apologies… That was a bit much."

Releasing Lol'th, Priscilla turned to the group, shellshocked by Kirk's words. "Tis true, I bear the curse of Lifehunt. Thomas was teaching me control, over time, but recently told me that I understood enough, and that he couldn't teach me any further. All I had left to learn could only come from time, and practice. One of their members, clad in strange, yellowing robes, stepped forward.

"Laurentius, a Pyromancer, hailing from the Great Swamp." He bowed slightly. Twas not a proper bow, but it was sincere, which Priscilla welcomed. "We've long been a land of outcasts and exiles, so allow me this chance to greet you, one outsider to another. What say you we work together to free our mutual friend. He said he was…" Laurentius trailed off, trying to remember.

"A Painting," the knight with the sun on his armor supplied. "A Painting in Anor Londo."

"I see," Priscilla said. "Then his warnings of what could have been, have indeed come to pass." Looking ahead, Priscilla gripped her scythe. "I must go home."

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AN:
So that took way too long, sorry. Y'all know how real life is. Please, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD criticize how I handled this. I've been agonizing on how to introduce Priscilla in this scene for the past few weeks. Onto previous reviews

Hitler's Moustache: Yeah, that's basically how Thomas has been reacting to this entire situation.

SoSlimShady: I've read other books, but yeah I won't lie, I've not really written anything serious before, so spacing is something I'm not too experienced in. I'll try to get better about it, but no promises.

BillyYumYum2X4: Dunno if you're still here, but yeah, I realized that a bit late. Fixing up the minor consistency errors, as well as making the first few chapters less fucking cringe, is on the agenda.

One Bored Critic: I'm flattered, truly.