The midmorning sun shines down on the painted world of Ariamis, warming the faces of two unlikely companions.

They stood at the edge of the world, a broken bridge with a swirling fog bank below. Priscilla had already packed what few possessions she had; a book, a brush, and her scythe slung across her back.

"Well," says Saer, "we just jump down? That's it? "

"Yes," she replies. "Since you have the doll, the gate shall unlock for us."

He looks down at the doll. It is a pretty little thing, with long white hair tucked into a bonnet. It is dressed with immaculate detail, clad in a brown shawl with a long black skirt.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Comments Priscilla.

Saer sighs. "You know, I kind of miss your fancy-talk. It made me feel as if I were a lord at a high court."

Priscilla snorts. "If you learn to understand it, then I shall speak it. There is no sense in it if you would only stare at me like a shiny buffoon."

"A handsome shiny buffoon," Saer corrects her.

She pauses. "...My apologies, a delusional shiny buffoon."

"Aww..."

They both walk towards the ledge, pausing at the precipice. Priscilla holds out her hand, and Saer takes it, pleasantly suprised.

The moment he does, however, she plucks him up as a child would a toy, flinging him off of the bridge. He passes through the cloud bank and Priscrilla takes a deep breath, jumping down after him with a shriek of glee.

*

Saer tumbles from the portal, landing painfully on his back. He lies there, stunned.

Above him, the clouds swirl and churn, opening to spit out his beautifully giant companion. Instead, however, it seems to spit out another cloud. How peculiar...

The cloud tumbles toward the ground, dissapating as it nears. The last bit of fluff flies off, revealing one very heavy looking crossbreed. Saer doesn't move, hypnotized by the sight of Priscilla's tail flying through the air. "That tail will be the death of me one day," he whispers.

It turns out that day is today.

*

Priscilla waits at the entrance to the portal, gaurding the mass of souls that Saer had left when he perished. She wrung her tail through her hands, feeling terrible for causing Saer any kind of pain. The clouds swirl once more, and Saer falls through, rolling as he hits the ground.

Priscilla rushes towards him, enveloping him in a great big dragon-hug.

"Saer! Imsorryimsorryimsorry!" She pants, pressing him against her. "I shouldn't have thrown you, it's my fault, please forgive me, are you alright?!" She squeezes her eyes shut, cradling him against her chest tighter and tighter, until...

CRACK!

'Well,' thought Saer, his face pressed against Priscilla's chest and fading away after his back was broken. 'If ever there was a good way to die, it's this way.'

*

"I'm telling you, it's okay," Saer says. He is desperately trying to comfort Priscilla, who kneels, weeping, with her knees together and feet apart.

"I-It's not okay!" She gasps between sobs.

"How many souls did you lose?"

"Thirteen..."

"Thirteen...?

"...Thousand..."

She wails afresh. Not able to bear seeing her like this, Saer grabs her tail and curls up on her lap. She squeaks, misery forgotten.

"It's okay," he whispers. "That's a small price to pay for a bed, blanket, and companion, all rolled into one."

"O-oh. B-but why hath thou grasped mine tail?" She asks, lapsing into old-speak from anxiety.

Saer smiles. "You stopped crying, didn't you? And do I really need a reason?" To emphasize, he squeezes her tail.

"Mm! M-may Th-thou perhaps cease thine actions? M-mine tail is S-s-s-sensitive."

"I would," chuckles Saer, "but I'm afraid I can't understand you." He gives it another squeeze, settling into her lap. Though he had woken mere hours ago, contact with the crossbreed's soft, warm fur was threatening to pull him under like a large, fluffy siren.

"Just consider this your apology," Saer sighs, before drifting off to sleep once more.

Sighing, Priscilla picks him up and sets off. While Saer could flit between the bonfires at will, she, who was not undead, could not. So, she travels on foot, walking through the imposing architecture of Anor Londo. She whips her head this way and that, amazed that there could be so much space in the world. Merely peering over the edge of the bridge would set her head to spinning!

She walks through the snowy streets, past the bodies of silver knights, Drang sellswords, and all manner of hostile creatures. She gasps, not from revulsion, but awe that Saer could best so many powerful foes. She looks down at him nuzzling against her shoulder and smiles warmly. For such a powerful warrior to let his guard down around her like this... She feels connected to him, like she can see a side of him no one else can.

The grand archives loom in the distance, massive and imposing. Priscilla's neck has started to ache; never before had she been surrounded by so many marvels. She had vague memories of traveling through Anor Londo to reach her painting, but they could never do the city justice.

The unlikely pair reach a bonfire overlooking the entrance to the grand archives. Priscilla yawns, sweeping the ground clear of dust and dirt with her tail.

She lays down, eyes drooping, lulled into a stupor by the heat of the bonfire. Though she could stay warm in even the harshest of winters, she still relished the feeling of the heat on her face while staring into the dancing flames.

Though she had had a deep sleep mere hours ago, she had seen and experienced so much that she felt compelled to rest again. For so many years, the only sight she had seen was the ethereal, snowy lands of her painting, her only company beings that lacked speech.