Summary: Tempest and Ornstein aren't happy with Gwyndolin's decision. But it seems they don't have a choice.
(Author's note: Woah, sorry that this chapter took me so long. I was focusing very hard on another WIP and then on a writing challenge, so that this story got postponed and postponed again. I finally managed to write a chapter that I am satisfied with and I hope you enjoy.)
The dragon slayer was the first to talk.
"I can't.", he said. "I am hurt."
Dark Sun Gwyndolin huffed at him: "Ornstein, we have waited for centuries, we surely can wait a few weeks more." They shifted their attention to Tempest: "Or will you go hollow by waiting alone?"
"...No, that not...", Tempest said. "But... are you serious? I was asking to give the mission to another Undead. There is one that would be perfect for this task, I know he could do it with ease. So, um.. I don't really get why you want me to carry on, with him in tow," Tempest pointed at the dragon slayer, "when the next death could be my last."
"You think I will be in your tow?", the knight sneered. "Be assured, if we really have to go through with this, you will be the one in MY tow."
Tempest stepped closer to the bed, in a fit of anger: "I am the Chosen Undead. And I already beat you. Besides, who said that I wanted to team up..." He got interrupted by the soft sound of rhythmical breathing. "He's asleep.", Tempest noticed, staring at the frame of the dragon slayer.
"It's the medicine, it makes him sleepy.", the dark sun said. "I haven't asked your name yet."
"Oh, uh, it is Tempest, like the storm.", the Chosen Undead said and shifted his attention on the Dark Sun. "I ask once again, you are sure about this? You think him and I should team up? He killed me a dozen times, you know."
"Well, you will have some time to get to know each other, cause Ornstein clearly needs to heal up first.", the dark sun said. "Also, you have obtained the lord vessel, that proves that you are worthy. You even managed to find out about this place. I don't think you are as weak as you think.", they added.
"I don't know.. it all feels so pointless.", Tempest said. "I think I am just sick and tired of dying over and over again without really dying."
"Well, then I guess it is fine for you to take a little break too.", the dark sun said. "But if you want to stay here, it would be nice if you could help around a bit. A good thing to start with would cleaning the puddle in the hallway you came in."
Tempest was a bit confused: "What puddle?", he asked, then it hit him. "Oh, that puddle..." He pawed the ground with his feet. "I guess that was kinda my fault somehow... when you stretch it."
The dark sun raised a catalyst and Tempest instantly braced himself, but relaxed when he saw them conjuring up a bucket and a mop. They also instructed him to a nearby well and once he had grabbed the surprisingly solid made up items, Tempest was off.
As soon as the Undead was out of sight, Gwyndolin nudged Ornstein. "Ornstein, wake up for a moment.", they demanded.
The dragon slayer sleepily opened his eyes. "Huh, what is it?", he asked. He pulled himself up slowly and looked around. "Where's the idiot?"
"I have send him out, cause we need to talk.", Gwyndolin said.
Ornstein groaned. "Gwyndolin, do I really have to do this?", he asked. "I can already see myself having to save this idiot out of all kind of totally obvious traps and what the likes."
"Ornstein, like I said earlier, we have waited centuries for this moment.", Gwyndolin sighed. "We have come so close. Finally someone managed to obtain the lord vessel. And then they stumble in here, ready to give up. I don't want to have so worked hard for nothing to achieve. I haven't put you and Smough through this hell for this."
Ornstein winced at the sound of the executioner's name, averting his gaze from Gwyndolin and staring at the wall.
"I am sorry...", Gwyndolin said. "That was too soon."
"Do you really think this is a good idea, Gwyndolin?", Ornstein asked, gently rubbing at his right temple to fight an oncoming headache, only to feel the thick gaze of the bandages wrapped around his head.
"...It is the only one I have. Ornstein... I know you have been sick and tired from guarding that empty cathedral for so long. And I know you never expected to come back alive out of this and I am so thankful, that you even were willing to give your life for this cause, being loyal to the end. So, please, this is the last thing I will ever ask from you. Make sure that this Undead links the flame and then you are free to go wherever you want.", Gwyndolin said.
Ornstein had perked up when Gwyndolin spoke. "...Fine, I'll do it then. But I don't do it because I want to and I doubt that I will ever be able to like this idiot.", he said. "I'll do it for you and Anor Londo. Consider this my last task as a knight of Gwyn."
"That's the spirit.", Gwyndolin said. "And, um, Ornstein? If you ever happen to find my brother or my sister, tell them I miss them..."
Ornstein grinned at Gwyndolin: "You already seem to have an idea what I was planning to do, huh? I promise." He yawned. "But now I think I want to go back to sleep..." Shortly after saying that, the knight had drifted back into his slumber.
Tempest stood in the hallway, bucket filled up with water in the left hand, mop in the right hand, staring at the puddle of vomit. "Man, that thing is large.", he murmured to himself. "At least only seems to be oatmeal or something, easy to clean up." He put the bucket down, wetted the mob and began the cleaning. In his earlier life he probably would have been repulsed by this, but he had seen far worse things on this journey so far, especially in Blighttown.
"I just hope they won't expect from me to be nothing than their cleaning boy.", he started to talk to himself. "Hm, but could be better than being a dark moon blade. That sounds scary..."
He stopped in the middle of his cleaning motion, scolding himself: "Tempest, stop talking to yourself, that is weird."
He finished cleaning the spot, went to empty the bucket out and returned to the room in the dark moon tomb. Dark Sun Gwyndolin was looking up when they heard his footsteps.
"Are you done with the task? Good.", they said, raised their catalyst and the cleaning supplies in Tempest's hand poofed into nothingness.
"Oh yikes, I am glad I already emptied that out.", he said. "So, uh, do you want me to do another thing for you?"
"Yes, watch over Ornstein.", the dark sun said.
"...Wait, what?", Tempest had a hard time believing what he just had heard.
"I have taken care of him for quite some time now and I am only one person. I need some time to recharge. Watch over him for me for a few hours.", they stood up and stretched.
"But... what do I do when he wakes up?", Tempest asked.
"Just do whatever he wants.", Gwyndolin said, already wiggling away. Tempest watched them vanish into another room.
"Well, great.", he said and leaned against a wall when they had gone out of sight. At last the dragon slayer was asleep for now, so at least they didn't had to interact. Tempest decided to look around in the room.
It was a room they had entered from the end of the hallway, which had led to the very large coffin of Gwyn, the lord of sunlight. Tempest remembered that it was said that Gwyn wasn't even in this coffin, the tomb was erected more out of honour for their departed lord. And that snake had said something like that Tempest should be the one to succeed Lord Gwyn and take his throne. The dark sun and the dragon slayer knew the lord, right? Maybe he should ask them some questions...
The room he had been led into wasn't very big. There had been a single bed in it where the dragon slayer had laid down in. There was a round table with three chairs around it, he still could spot the tea cups they had drank out of earlier this day. There was a desk with some writing materials, a pot of ink, a quill, some books... In a corner of the room there was the armour of the dragon slayer. Tempest took a few steps toward it to get a closer look.
It looked as majestic as when the dragon slayer had worn it, but also old, as if it had been centuries since someone had smithed it. That probably was the case, Tempest thought. He had fought in the dragon war, right? That is why he was called the dragon slayer in the first place. He could see some slashes and dent in the armour, with a particular bad one in the helmet, must have been the impact of the executioner's hammer. And then, the weapon. The spear that had thrusted through him this many times, laid on the leggings of the golden armour. Tempest bowed down and picked it up, or more tried to pick it up, that thing was HEAVY. He needed both hands to only lift it and even then it felt like an impossible task to swing it. "And he was swinging that thing with one hand.", Tempest murmured to himself, lowering the spear back down, walking to the bed the dragon slayer currently occupied.
There was a chair next to the bed, it looked like it had been simply removed from the table, cause there was still room for one chair more. Next to the bed was a night stand, on it was an empty cup of tea and a jar with some water. Also, there was a bucket standing next to the bed. Tempest wondered if it was meant for the dragon slayer's bodily functions. Did he even need to do that? That guys weren't human as far as he knew. But when he was able to vomit, that probably meant that he had to eat and that would mean... Tempest shook the thought aside, he didn't want to think about it right now. Instead he took a closer look at the sleeping dragon slayer.
By the lords, he was so HUGE. Tempest knew that there had to be a person under that armour, but he didn't expect the person to be as tall as the armour, even though it made sense in hindsight. It was just... when he wore that armour, it seemed natural to him that the dragon slayer would tower over himself like this, now that he was lying in the bed, he looked like someone who was seriously overgrown. He watched the dragon slayer over carefully. He had a pretty pale skin and was dressed in a purple robe with long sleeves. The features in his face looked surprisingly soft. His eyebrows had kind of a sharp angle to it, but his nose and mouth weren't really pronounced. His eyes were closed right now, so he couldn't make out the colour or shape, but it appeared that they seemed to be pretty large. But what was the most remarking thing about the dragon slayer, was the hair sprouting from his head.
Red as blood, tied into a braid, went it down to his hips, loosely laying on the bed. From the bangs, that got down to his chin and the end of the braid, it appeared that this hair was immensely curly. And Tempest also got a reminder, where he had seen that colour and curls before... it looked exactly like the plume on the armour of the dragon slayer. Tempest turned around to take a look at the plume off the armour, only to see that it wasn't there. The helmet didn't possess a plume at all.
"Wait a minute, does that mean it has been your hair all along?", Tempest said and bowed above the sleeping dragon slayer, to take a closer look at the braid. Suddenly, he got immensely curious how it felt like. He extended a hand, but quickly withdrew it again as if burned, but then extended it again. "I mean, you are asleep, right?", he whispered. "I am sure you don't mind..." and grabbed the braid. It was... surprisingly soft. He couldn't help but start to trail along the braid, following every curl and he grew more and more fascinated by it. He was thinking about unbraiding it, see how it looked in all its loose glory, when a hand shot up and pinned his arm in its grab.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?", the dragon slayer asked, glaring at him with an emerald flash in his eyes.