Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Dusk of Oolacile, Dark Sun Gwyndolin
Word Count: 7.488
Summary: Back in their own time, Ornstein needs medical assistance immediately, so Tempest brings him to Gwyndolin.
(Author's note: It's the hurt/comfort chapter that everyone was waiting for after Ornstein got hurt by Artorias. I was very excited to finally write it and I have even better news, because I couldn't get everything into it, there will be one more chapter! More in the end notes!)
Tempest gasped and fell over, water splashing, when he materialized. He caught himself with his hands and frantically looked around, heart in his chest pounding. He calmed down when he saw the white phantom of Princess Dusk in front of him and realized that the area around him was in fact the Dark Root Basin of their own time.
"We are back.", he sighed and got up, eyes locking onto Dusk. "Oh, hey, uh, princess... um, can you tell me about... what happened to Oolacile?", Tempest asked, unsure if this all had been a dream.
Dusk locked her eyes with Tempest's and started to speak: "This may strike thine ear as somewhat peculiar, but… long ago, in my homeland of Oolacile, I was beset by a creature of the Abyss. I would have perished then, were it not for the great knight Artorias. In truth, I saw little of what transpired, for mine senses were already fled! But even still, there was something about Artorias… A certain balance of the humours…That quite perfectly fits your semblance. Heavens, could it be that…"
Tempest frowned as she spoke. It hadn't been Artorias who had saved her, it had been Tempest and Ornstein. Granted, they had vanished before she could see them, but Artorias was very clearly dead and... Tempest got the hunch, that their deeds had been credited to Artorias, to keep the honour of the late knight intact. He was totally fine with it though and so closed his mouth that he had already opened to speak when Dusk spoke again: "Oh, dear me. That was Oolacile, many centuries ago. Please excuse my fanciful musings. Excuse me for such whimsical utterances. Only, it was so very odd… You, and Artorias. I owe my life to each of you. And both seem to share some resonance of sorts… Perhaps it is the nature of true greatness. I still think on that creature from the Abyss that preyed upon me. My faculties were far from lucid, but I quite clearly sensed certain emotions. A wrenching nostalgia, a lost joy, an object of obsession, and a sincere hope to reclaim it… Could these thoughts belong to the beast from the Abyss? But if that were true, then perhaps it is no beast after all? Oh, please forgive my ramblings. It's just that, I wish to know the truth. And no one, not even loving Elizabeth, will tell me."
Tempest thought about the last words of Artorias once Dusk was finished. Artorias had talked about that he hadn't been able to kill him. Maybe Artorias had known the beast of the Abyss, but Tempest had no clue what it meant. Maybe Ornstein could shed some light on it.
Ornstein! The dragon slayer hadn't said a single word once they had been back and Tempest looked at him at the same time Dusk said: "Um, is everything alright with Sir Ornstein...?"
"No, I don't think so.", Tempest's face paled and he rushed over to the dragon slayer, who laid unconscious half on the ground, half in the water of the basin. He went closely to Ornstein's helmet and was relieved to hear that he still breathed.
He needed care immediately though. Tempest pulled out a homeward bone and very much hoped that it wouldn't transcend space and time and just get them to the last bonfire in their time, so that he could use the power of the lordvessel. It was a good thing that Ornstein was unconscious, because after two teleports, he surely would have puked. "See you later, princess.", Tempest said and crushed the homeward bones in his hand.
Once Tempest opened his eyes, they were in the dim lit cave of the basin. Tempest breathed out another relieved sigh. Now he just needed to warp to the Dark Moon Tomb. After he opened his eyes to confirm that he was at the right place, he placed Ornstein's head comfortably on the ground and ran down to the fog wall.
"Gwyndolin! It's Ornstein! He needs help! He is hurt!", Tempest yelled. The deity wasted no time to lift the fog wall and teleported right next to Ornstein, with Tempest hurrying up the stairs to keep up with them.
"What happened, Chosen Undead?", they asked, their mouth indicating a frown on their face.
"I am not sure! A lot happened! I don't even know where we were, but there was a dragon and... I'll explain it later, Ornstein needs help first!", Tempest said.
Gwyndolin raised their catalyst and a short while later, an illusionary black knight appeared which picked Ornstein up and started to carry him into the tomb. "I'll take care of Ornstein.", Gwyndolin said.
"I'll help!", Tempest said and followed Gwyndolin into the tomb. They walked through the hallway until they reached the little room in which Gwyndolin normally would receive them. The illusionary knight laid Ornstein onto the bed and Gwyndolin got to work to swiftly remove his armour, while Tempest just stood there.
"I, uh, will get some water.", he said and rushed away, to the room that Gwyndolin used as kitchen. There usually was some water there. He also could heat it up with his pyromancy, because Gwyndolin surely needed hot water to clean Ornstein's wounds.
When he came back, Gwyndolin had already stripped Ornstein of his armour, leaving him only in his underwear, which made Tempest blush. That is entirely the wrong time., he scolded himself and put the bucket with water down next to Gwyndolin. They were fixated on Ornstein's left arm and Tempest cringed when he saw the wound.
The cut was deep, even deeper than he thought, having torn through skin and muscles, blood still seeping out, the skin around the cut had turned into a dark purple and it generally looked very unhealthy. That Ornstein had been able to move around and fight with such a wound for so long, felt like a miracle.
"How did this happen?", Gwyndolin asked without looking at Tempest, with a flick of their catalyst, a cloth appeared in the bucket and then floated to them. "Why didn't you come to me to get him treatment right away? And... who was responsible for that cut?"
"I would have liked to come right away.", Tempest hated how squeaky his voice sounded, "But we couldn't. I know it is hard to believe, but Ornstein and me... we got pulled into another time? Like, into the past and we were stuck there. The bonfire didn't let us out."
"I see.", Gwyndolin said, their hand grabbing the cloth, gently cleaning Ornstein's wound, the water in the bucket turning more and more red, whenever they moistened it anew. "So my theory that these wound could stem from Artorias isn't even farfetched."
Tempest was taken aback. "How did you know?!", he blurted out, confirming Gwndolin's assumption.
"Ornstein and Artorias, they used to duel each other all the time. I often have seen over their wounds, when the infirmary was fed up with them or they didn't want to sit through another lesson of mine sister. I am familiar with that kind of cut... but it never has been this bad. That can only mean, that... Oolacile...", Gwyndolin said, all while preparing some suture.
"Yes.", Tempest nodded, stepping a bit nearer to look at Ornstein's face. The dragon slayer was as pale as a ghost. Tempest almost extended his hand to stroke over his hair, but withdrew it again. As much as he felt like he wanted to comfort Ornstein, he surely didn't want to get touched. Especially not when he was unconscious. Memories of the first time that Tempest had touched his hair surfaced and Ornstein hadn't been too thrilled about it.
"It must have been hard... for Ornstein.", Gwyndolin said, starting to stitch the wound together. Tempest barely could watch, he was more than glad for Estus, and more than glad that Ornstein was unconscious and didn't had to feel the pain of the stitching.
"I think... he was keeping it together, somehow.", Tempest said. "From the moment he found out that we are in Oolacile, he started to act strange and he only told me after I got mad at him. Then... we faced Artorias and he...", Tempest's voice broke as he thought about how devastated Ornstein had been when Tempest had killed him. "I don't think, he has been alright since then.", Tempest finished.
Gwyndolin, still not looking at him, continued to tend to Ornstein's arm and said: "Back, when Ornstein first learned of Artorias' death, he didn't take it well. He made himself sick. I had to force him to take a break here in the tomb before he accidentally would kill himself."
"I want to be surprised, but I am not.", Tempest murmured. Of course Ornstein would have made himself sick, of course Ornstein hadn't taken the time to properly grief. Just like Ornstein had pushed through and had kept it together at Oolacile until he collapsed, he must have kept it together back then too. Tempest decided to talk with Ornstein about his feelings once he felt a bit better, he wouldn't let him bottle anything up anymore.
While Gwyndolin was still busy with stitching Ornstein's wound, Tempest rolled off a bandage and cut it off after it had the desired length.
Gwyndolin finished Ornstein's treatment with a thick bandage, using the ones Tempest had prepared. "There. His life isn't in danger, but he lost quite a bit of blood and needs to rest for a while."
Tempest nodded and added: "I will watch over him while he recovers."
"Chosen Undead, return to the cathedral. I will let Ornstein bring there, so that he can recover in his own room. Continue your journey once he has made a full recovery.", Gwyndolin said, finally looking at Tempest. Once their gaze fell on him, they seemed to wrinkle their nose.
"Oh, and Chosen Undead, thou shalt take a bath."
At these words, Tempest looked down at himself and realized that his clothes not only were a mess, but also that he still was full of blood. They didn't had any opportunity to wash up in Oolacile (besides falling into different bodies of water and that hardly counted) and Tempest had been showered by Manus blood as he killed him. He even could spot a bit of purple goo.
"Oh, by the first flame!", Tempest cursed and turned around to hurry to the bonfire. "Oh, um, thank you, Gwndolin... for taking care of Ornstein."
The Dark Sun didn't say anything but gave him a curt bow. Tempest raised his hand to wave and then used the bonfire outside of the tomb to teleport back to the cathedral.
Arrived at the cathedral, Tempest took the route that wasn't guarded by silver knights and stopped in front of the bathroom. He entered the changing room and laid his weapons and helmet down, then stripped out of his leather armour and neatly folded it. Once he was fully naked, he just the more noticed how dirty and sticky he felt. He didn't waste any time and went to the pool, lowering himself into it, sighing when the warm water hit his body and relaxed his strain muscles.
"Ornstein probably can't take a bath for a while...", Tempest murmured to himself after a few minutes. "I will have to bring him a wash basin and a wash cloth and maybe... maybe he even lets me help him...", Tempest's gaze went dreamy as he thought about helping Ornstein wash his muscular body and he blushed again. "I am having inappropriate thoughts again!", he scolded himself and started to clean his own body with a bit of soap and a wash cloth. Still, even though Ornstein would never let him clean him up, he would not be able to wash his mane of hair with that arm and maybe Tempest could convince him to help him? If blood dried up in it, he would need to cut it out and he was sure that Ornstein wanted to keep his glorious ponytail.
Tempest was in the process of washing his own hair, fantasizing about how it would feel when Ornstein would let him touch his hair, when he could apply soap to it and tenderly massage it into his hair, pouring water over it and then brushing it after it was clean. That Tempest was pretty much the same size as Ornstein's hair didn't come into his mind. Why did he keep having so inappropriate thoughts anyway? Ornstein did need proper care of a friend now, not the fantasies of the one who loved him unrequitedly.
After Tempest was done with washing his body and hair, sure that every bit of blood and abyss goo was gone, he stayed in the pool for a while longer, sitting at the edge, where he still could feel the floor under his feet and laying his head on the tiled floor, closing his eyes. Even for him as an Undead, the excursion to Oolacile had been exhausting. It must have been a lot worse for Ornstein, who not only was still living, but also injured. He probably would need to sleep first and then... he surely would be hungry.
Tempest remembered that Ornstein had mentioned that he wanted to eat mushroom rice, so he left the pool and dried himself off with a towel. When he went back to get his clothes, he took one look at his armour and decided that he needed to repair and wash it first. However, he couldn't just run around naked in the cathedral, that would not only be rude, but also embarrassing, especially when Ornstein would see him. Tempest searched the shelves for clothes he could wear and then slipped into a shirt that looked far too large for him and it was, it pretty much looked like a robe on him and his arms vanished in the sleeves.
Well, it was better than being naked, so Tempest took his armour and shuffled to the nearest bonfire. There, he sat down and started to work on repairing his armour, using the souls that he gained in Oolacile for it. Luckily, the souls would also clean his armour, he didn't really know how it worked, but along with all the cuts and scrapes in it vanishing when he applied souls to it, the dirt would also vanish. After Tempest was done with his armour, he repaired his sword and shield too and then used a few of the souls to strengthen himself, storing the rest away, so that he could use them as payment once he visited the merchants at Fire Link Shrine.
Once Tempest was done with everything, his hair had almost dried. He slipped out of the oversized shirt he had been wearing and switched back into his armour, putting the shirt in his bottomless box, intending to bring it back the next time he would take a bath. Tempest then wondered if Ornstein already was back into the cathedral and walked to his room.
Tempest extended his hand to press the handle, but then decided that it would be more polite to knock first, it very well could be that Ornstein would be in a situation, where he preferred that nobody would see him. After nobody answered Tempest's knocks after he must have waited for five minutes, he pressed the handle and slowly opened the door, stepping in and taking a look around.
Ornstein's armour and spear was stacked in the corner of the room and when Tempest looked at the bed, the dragon slayer indeed was in it, his eyes still closed, his breathing going slow, face still rather pale. He was dressed in a purple robe (looked like the same one that Tempest had seen him in the first time in the Dark Moon Tomb) and his left arm, supported by a sling, currently rested on his chest. His long, red hair was carefully braided and hung down from the bed, the tip brushing the floor.
Tempest stepped closer and observed Ornstein for a while. It didn't seem like he was unconscious anymore, it seemed like he was asleep. He either had regained consciousness and decided to just sleep right away, or had awoken as Gwyndolin had still been busy with him and gotten to sleep once he had been placed in his bed. Whatever it was, Tempest was glad that Ornstein was getting some rest.
Tempest decided to let Ornstein sleep for now and instead start cooking for him, he surely would be hungry after he woke up. When he stood in front of the door, he stopped, his gaze on the picture that was put up there.
Ornstein and Artorias, painted in that crude style, both smiling at him, despite Ornstein wearing his helmet and the face on Artorias just having been drawn on the darkness of the hood.
With a heavy feeling in his heart, Tempest left the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He wondered how Ornstein would feel if he saw that picture again? He considered to maybe put it away, but Ornstein had it on his door for hundreds of year apparently, it clearly was very important to him.
With his mind and thoughts clouded by heavy thoughts, Tempest went to the pantry and searched for the ingredient he would need for some mushroom rice. Rice, that he asked himself where it was grown, the only swamp in this land was a poisonous death trap, mushrooms obviously, cream and some onions. He also remembered that Ornstein had asked for some extra dessert, so he fetched some eggs and some milk too. On the way to the herbal garden Tempest asked himself where any of this food came from, but surely there was some magic explanation for it. He could ask Gwyndolin about it, but he wasn't sure if he would like to hear the answer.
Tempest spent a bit more time in the herbal garden than planned, watering all the plants that looked too dry and left once he had gathered the herbs he wanted to use. Without further detours, he went to the kitchen.
As Tempest started working, the heavy thoughts in his head didn't want to leave. He prepared a pot with water to cook the rice in, carefully measuring it. Rice had to absorb the water completely and when there was too much, it would get too soggy and when there was not enough, it would get too dry. While Tempest waited for the water to cook, he cut the onions, putting some herbs in his nose so that his eyes wouldn't water and then he cleaned and cut the mushrooms.
After all ingredients were prepared and the rice was cooked, Tempest put some oil into a pot and started to fry the onions, adding the mushrooms after a delicious smell started to fill the room (why did he lose his taste, but not his smell? Tempest asked himself this question too often.) and then added the rice and the cream, occasionally stirring the dish, adding the herbs and some seasoning after a bit of time had passed.
He looked behind himself and upon not seeing Ornstein, of course, he suddenly felt very very alone. Was this how Ornstein had felt everyday here? With nobody there to talk, nobody there to watch him, nobody who would take in his meals with him. Was that why Ornstein had gotten so attached to Smough, because he had been incredibly lonely?
Tempest tried to imagine how the cathedral had felt like in its prime. With the lord of sunlight being around, watching over his subjects, the nameless prince and the real princess Gwynevere spending a moment together, maybe watched by their little sibling Gwyndolin. Ornstein was talking to his silver knights, Artorias was playing with Sif in the courtyard and Ciaran was watching everything from the shadows, while Gough had a pleasant talk with the giant blacksmith. Silver Knights would patrol these halls and the kitchen would be bustling with servants, all busy to prepare the next meal for a cathedral filled with life.
Tempest stopped his daydream when he noticed that something had fallen into the dish. When it happened again and he felt a certain wetness around his eyes, he raised his hand and wiped them, to see that he indeed had started crying.
Silently sobbing, Tempest continued to stir the dish, until it was ready, accidentally having added some more salt than intended to it. He hoped that Ornstein wouldn't notice. He put a lid on the pot, put out the stove and then sat on the bench in the corner of the kitchen, the one that Ornstein would normally sit on when he tasted his meals.
Once sat down, the sadness overcame Tempest again and he spent a good while just crying into his hands, weeping like he was a little kid, trying to grasp his head around how hopeless Ornstein must have been over all these centuries. And here he was, having almost hollowed after one year in the Asylum... or had it been more? Tempest wasn't too sure about the passage of time anymore.
Tempest needed a good while to calm down. Once his tears had dried, he wiped over his eyes with a handkerchief and took a few deep breathes. He wondered briefly how Ornstein would take everything, when he already had broken down in tears. He probably would keep it together, like he always did.
With a bit of a frustrated sigh, Tempest got up and started the second dish for this day, the dessert. He had decided to cook a light pudding, so he cracked the eggs and mixed them with the milk, adding some sugar as he constantly stirred the mixture, until it finally got hard. Tempest put the hot mixture into a pudding form, glad that he found one in the kitchen, and now only had to wait for it to cool off. While he was admiring his work, he heard some shuffling. Tempest shot up and ran into the hallway to see Ornstein there, looking as if he could collapse any second.
"Ornstein, what are you doing out of bed?!", Tempest said, having his hands stemmed into his hips. Ornstein flinched and looked at him.
"Little Storm, I just, uh...", Ornstein trailed off and his face, despite how pale it was, flushed a bit. Tempest got the message however, having learned how shy Ornstein was about everything.
"Alright, alright, but you go straight back to bed once you are done.", he said, crossing his arms and pretending to look at the wall, even though he was still observing Ornstein.
Ornstein nodded and continued shuffling down the hallway. Tempest contemplated if he should help him, but the dragon slayer was far too large, he would more get squished than be able to help him. He just hoped that Ornstein wouldn't collapse.
The time Ornstein was gone, Tempest used to check on the temperature of the mushroom rice. It was still warm enough, so he filled a bowl and brought it to Ornstein's room, the pudding was still too hot, that needed to be saved for later. The dragon slayer wasn't back yet and just as Tempest got worried and decided to search for him, the door opened and Ornstein laid back into bed.
"You really made mushroom rice.", Ornstein said, a slight smile playing along his lips, but it didn't feel like it reached his whole face.
"Of course.", Tempest said and offered the bowl, in which he had put a spoon, to Ornstein. "You were wishing for it and who am I to deny my guest his order?"
Tempest put on his best customer smile as Ornstein reached for the bowl, carefully placing it on his lap, taking the spoon. The bowl looked like it could fall anytime, so Tempest came closer.
"Uh, do you need any help?", he asked.
"I can eat on my own.", Ornstein said, but all the edge was absent from his words. He sounded.. numb, yes, that was the word, numb. Tempest asked himself if he still kept it together? Had he already cried about everything that happened? Or was he forcing a smile for Tempest's sake?
"I just worry that the bowl may fall.", Tempest said. "Just let me hold it for you, alright?"
Ornstein looked at the bowl on his lap and then curtly nodded. Tempest came closer to the bed, only to realize that his arms were to short to hold the bowl for Ornstein to comfortable eat out of when he would stay where he was.
"Um, wait a second...", Tempest said, put the bowl on the night stand and then crawled onto the bed, kneeling next to Ornstein and presenting the bowl to him. He hadn't even thought about what he did, he just had wanted to make eating for Ornstein easier, so he only noticed what he had done when he saw Ornstein blush again and blushed himself.
"Oh! Ornstein, I am sorry, I didn't want to overstep boundaries! I..."
Ornstein stopped his rambling with a gesture of his hand and said: "It's alright, little Storm."
Tempest, barely believing that Ornstein had accepted him on his bed, continued to hold the bowl until the dragon slayer had eaten every last bit of it. After he was done, he laid back into the pillows and murmured: "Where is my extra dessert?"
"It's still cooling off.", Tempest simply said and Ornstein gave him kind of a sad smile.
"It was a joke, but I am glad to hear that you took my second request into order too.", he said and closed his eyes, probably craving for some more sleep. Tempest found it better to leave him alone and left the room with the bowl on tiptoeing feet.
After Tempest had cleaned the bowl and put the leftovers of the mushroom rice away, he wondered what he should do now. He decided to go into the room that felt like it had been the usual living quarters of Ornstein and Smough. Once he arrived, he went over to the bookshelf with the intent of maybe reading a book, but decided against it when he spotted the coat of dust on the shelf.
"When has been the last time someone has cleaned up there?", Tempest said out aloud. A few minutes later, he had bound a scarf around his hair to keep it from getting dirty and was equipped with a broom, a bucket with water and a rag. Tempest spent the better part of the day thoroughly cleaning every piece of furniture from dust and sweeping the floor from any dirt that had gathered. Cleaning the tavern had been an everyday job, so he was quite experienced in getting rid of even the heavy dust and the annoying corners where dirt always would gather.
After Tempest was done, he sat down on the table to admire his work, when his gaze fell on the drawings. Ornstein's drawings. Maybe he had added some new ones?
It felt like ages had gone by once Tempest had first looked at the drawings and found one, a single one, that depicted himself, still in the elite knight armour he had picked up in the forest. In reality, it only had been a few weeks, his journey with Ornstein hadn't gone on that long yet, even if it felt like it.
Tempest sat down on the table and picked up the drawings. In fact, that was him on the drawings, in his new outfit, the black leather armour, depicted with sword and shield. There were various drawings of him, sometimes in another pose, sometimes with a different weapon (bow or pyromancy flame).
Ornstein had written something on some of the drawings in his chicken scratch handwriting. Tempest had to squint his eyes and cock his head until he was able to decipher the letters.
"Idiot" was written on one of the first drawings, with an exclamation mark. On another drawing there was written "Little Storm" and then, on the third drawing, there was written "Don't get attached." over and over again, as if Ornstein was trying to make a point.
Don't get attached? To him? Did that mean that Ornstein had feelings for him?
Tempest laid the drawings back down and took a deep breath, his heart was beating hefty in his chest. If Ornstein had feelings for him... then why was he hiding them or... more denying them?
Tempest had feelings for Ornstein. He had known it for quite some while now. The more he had get to know the real Ornstein, the more his heart had fallen for him, but then, even though Tempest only did paint himself a very slim chance that Ornstein would ever reciprocate his feelings, Ornstein had dropped that he would search out an old lover of his once his mission was over.
Tempest did had to accept back then that Ornstein wasn't feeling the same for him. It did hurt and it still hurt, but Tempest had made his peace with to be at least a good friend to Ornstein, as long as their journey would keep them together. Now he was staring at a drawing that made the feelings in himself whirl around.
Why had Ornstein written that sentence over the drawing, over and over again? There were only two possibilities really. The first one was that Ornstein really had fallen for him, but denied his own feelings.
The second one was, that something would happen at the end of their journey. Something that might make one of them unable to stay longer around...
Tempest paled a bit at this thought, but then shook his head. Whatever would happen once they reached the Kiln, it was in the future. For now, Ornstein had to get well again and then they had to collect two more lord souls. He would have plenty of opportunities to talk to Ornstein.
Maybe Tempest should confess to Ornstein and when it was in front of the Kiln. The dragon slayer deserved to know about his true feelings.
Now that the room was clean, Tempest put away the cleaning materials and then went to the kitchen, removing the pudding from the form. It had cooled down in the meantime. Coming dinner, Ornstein would have a nice dessert to the rest of the mushroom rice. Tempest should go and ask Ornstein what he would like to eat tomorrow, so that he could prepare everything.
A few minutes later Tempest knocked on Ornstein's door and opened the door, peeking in when nobody replied. Was Ornstein still asleep? Once Tempest was in the room and looked at the bed, he saw Ornstein awake, but staring vacantly at the ceiling.
"Ornstein?", Tempest asked and the dragon slayer flinched, so violently that Tempest cringed. If he would have been a cat, he probably would have jumped several feet into the air.
"Little Storm...?", Ornstein said, his right hand grabbing the blankets that had become dishevelled. "I am sorry... I was lost in thoughts..."
"I figured.", Tempest said. "I wanted to ask you what you would like to eat tomorrow."
Ornstein started to stare at the ceiling again and was quiet for so long that Tempest was about to repeat his question.
"I don't know.", Ornstein finally said. "Feel free to cook whatever you want..."
"Is everything alright, Ornstein?", Tempest asked, scrutinizing Ornstein. He seemed to be off. Judging about everything that had happened to them in the span of twenty-four hours, Tempest wasn't surprised, but after Ornstein had kept it together for so long, he didn't want for the dragon slayer to still hide his feelings.
"I am fine.", Ornstein said and Tempest's shoulders sank. Of course he wouldn't admit it to himself. Well, Tempest knew that it wouldn't do any good to push Ornstein, so maybe a distraction was in order.
"Ornstein, you probably haven't taken a bath yet.", he said.
Ornstein stopped staring at the ceiling to stare at Tempest instead, blinking once. "Huh? Of course not, how shall I take a bath with that arm?" He pointed at the thickly bandaged arm.
"But wouldn't you like to wash up?", Tempest inquired. "We got all kinds of soiled back in Oolacile. You must feel so dirty and gross."
Ornstein seemed to shift a bit in bed before he nodded: "You are right, little Storm, but... how should I wash up? I can't get into the pool with my fresh wound..."
"I will get a wash basin in here.", Tempest said and stood up. "Then you can wash up in your room."
"H-huh?", Ornstein said, face starting to flush red, but Tempest was already gone.
He came back with the promised wash basin, some soap, a wash cloth and several towels. Ornstein sat rigid in his bed, staring at Tempest when he carefully placed the basin, which had been filled with water from the pool, on the ground and put soap, wash cloth and towels on Ornstein's night stand. Tempest then crossed his arms as he considered how to get the wash basin on Ornstein's bed. He clapped his hands as he thought of a solution and went to push one of the chairs at Ornstein's table next to the bed side, then he heaved the wash basin on it, panting from the physical effort. That was more exhausting than having to fight a battle, Tempest simply was too small for it.
"Can you reach everything?", Tempest asked, but Ornstein was still rigid in his bed, his gaze seemingly fixated onto the wash basin.
"Oh, you don't want me to watch, do you?", Tempest said and turned around, even though he had seen Ornstein naked already, he once again got remembered about his shyness. "I would leave the room, but I am worried that in your state something could happen. I promise I won't watch though."
Ornstein finally broke out of his rigidity, because he quietly said: "Thank you, little Storm..." Tempest heard shuffling behind him and then a sigh. "Little Storm, um, could you...?"
"Yes, Ornstein?", Tempest said, having a grin on his face. Apparently Ornstein had trouble getting out of his clothes with one of his arms incapacitated. Tempest had seen it coming and it had been his second reason to stay in the room. Now Ornstein just needed to relax and ask him the question.
"Nevermind...", Ornstein said, but Tempest wasn't having it. He knew that Ornstein would like to wash up, he never had liked being dirty, often cleaning his weapon and armour and he had procrastinated going to Blighttown for so long.
"Come on, Ornstein, I am sure, you want to wash up. Just ask me for help.", Tempest said, lightly shaking his head. There were a few minutes of silence when Ornstein finally gave in.
"F-Fine.", he said and when Tempest turned around, Ornstein had turned his head to the wall, his face a deep crimson. "But only because I can't do it on my own."
Tempest would have given a thousand souls to knew what was going on in Ornstein's head when he climbed on the bed and carefully walked over to him. "I am going to remove the sling first.", he said. "Then I will help you undressing the robe."
Ornstein nodded, his gaze still boring a hole into the wall. Tempest did as he had announced and carefully removed the sling, Ornstein's arm sunk down into the pillows once it was gone and the dragon slayer was flinching slightly, only for the fraction of a second. Tempest put the sling on the night stand and and then moved in front of Ornstein, to undo the buttons on the robe, slowly revealing Ornstein's chest in front of him. Now Ornstein wasn't the only one getting red, because he could feel his own face flush and a familiar heat rising up in his nose. Button by button, Tempest exposed more of Ornstein's chest and took a few deep breathes once he came to the last button, wiping away the first droplet of blood that wanted to force its way out of his nose.
Once the last button was undone, Tempest moved behind Ornstein, who had turned rigid again during the whole procedure and pulled the robe down, being very careful with the left arm. Soon enough Ornstein's bare shoulders and back with the prominent scars were exposed.
"There.", Tempest said, wiping at his nose again, noticing a little more blood. "Now you only need to stand up to get rid of the robes completely.", he said a lot faster than he wanted and then hopped down from the bed, turning around from Ornstein again, cupping his nose with his hands, trying to prevent the budding nosebleed.
Ornstein didn't say anything, but Tempest heard some shuffling. Then, he heard the sound of a wash cloth being dipped in water and his mind played out a fantasy in front of him that made the budding nosebleed inevitable and he soon had to squeeze a handkerchief against it, simply from the fact that he had fantasized about how sexy Ornstein looked while he cleaned himself, all from the mere sounds. Ornstein didn't comment on it, either not having noticed or probably more caught up in washing his body. Tempest stared sullen down at his gloves. Why hadn't he removed them, now they were full of blood. He pressed the handkerchief one last time against his nose, ensuring that that the little nosebleed had stopped and then removed his gloves, to wash them later in the bonfire.
"Little Storm...?", Ornstein suddenly said, voice meek.
"Yes, Ornstein?", Tempest said, waiting for Ornstein to make the first move.
"Um... could you help me... wash up my shoulders and back?", Ornstein's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. At the prospect of being allowed to wash Ornstein's body, Tempest almost got a nosebleed again.
"Oh, o-of course.", he said, noticing that his hands had started shivering. He slowly turned around and walked towards Ornstein's bed, climbing on it. Ornstein, almost naked, he was still wearing his underwear, had his gaze cast downwards, his face still rather red. Tempest took the wash cloth from the basin, wrung it out and then stood behind Ornstein, staring at his shoulders and back and the many scars littering the dragon slayer's body, mainly burns.
"You are fine with it, Ornstein?", Tempest said, just to be sure. He didn't want to be tossed of the bed suddenly, but mostly he wanted for Ornstein to feel comfortable.
"Y-yes.", Ornstein didn't sound very convincing, but Tempest decided to take his word. At least he hadn't needed several minutes to say this single world. "Alright then.", Tempest said and carefully started to wipe over Ornstein's shoulder and back, being utmost careful around the scars, gently cleaning every bit of dirt he could spot. While Ornstein seemed to get rigid again at first, he started to relax under Tempest's care and Tempest had the feeling that Ornstein genuinely enjoyed getting washed up by him.
Not the first time that Tempest had assumed that Ornstein was touch starved.
After Tempest was done, he dried Ornstein's shoulders and back up. "Shall we wash your hair too when we are already on it?", he asked, but Ornstein shook his head, seemed to be as much out of the question as cleaning his private parts, though Tempest could understand the latter more. He just hoped that no blood had crusted into Ornstein's hair, that would be impossible to get out.
"Good, then let's you get back in your robe again.", Tempest got the robe and helped Ornstein to redress, briefly stopping when he noticed the big scar on the dragon slayer's chest. Still red and fresh, the scar that he himself had planted there, when he finally had managed to find a way through Ornstein's armour. He didn't comment on it though and finished helping Ornstein to dress and knotted the sling back into place.
Now that Ornstein was clean and redressed and was laying back down into the pillows, pulling the blankets over him, there wasn't a reason for Tempest to stay anymore. "I will get the washing utensils out.", he said and intended to hop down from the bed, but Ornstein's right arm held him back.
"Little Storm, please... would you stay for a while?", Ornstein said and when Tempest looked at his face, he looked so incredibly lonely, that Tempest could only nod.
"Good.", Ornstein said, closing his eyes. "Thanks..."
Ornstein seemed to have fallen asleep not a minute later and Tempest noticed that his right hand had grabbed for Tempest's hand. It looked pretty uncomfortable, because the way Ornstein was lying in the bed, his right side was facing the wall and Tempest was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing Ornstein's left. So, without removing Ornstein's hand, Tempest quietly moved over to Ornstein's right side and sat down there, tucking his legs in, leaning against the wall.
"You would make me the happiest Undead in the world if I didn't knew that you are just feeling lonely.", Tempest whispered, gently squeezing Ornstein's hand, feeling himself getting drowsy too. Even though Undead didn't need any sleep anymore, it still managed to catch him, mostly when he was bored or exhausted. Unlike other bodily functions, like hunger or needing to use the bathroom, sleep still could be done willingly.
Though Tempest was shocked awake when Ornstein suddenly pulled him closer without any effort and pressed him against his chest. Tempest felt his face flush as red as a tomato and he placed his eyes on Ornstein, seeing his sleepy face. Oh, wait a moment... wasn't he always hugging things in his sleep? Tempest just hoped that Ornstein wouldn't fling him off the bed when he woke, like it had happened in the past, but... that had been before they had been good friends. So Tempest allowed himself to be hugged by Ornstein, basking in the warmth of the dragon slayer, when Ornstein suddenly got uneasy.
Oh no, did he had a nightmare? It seemed like it, because Ornstein shifted and groaned in his sleep and his face went really pale and he seemed to break out into a sweat.
"Ornstein, wake up, you are having a-", Tempest got cut off when Ornstein suddenly pressed him hard against his body, too hard. He literally couldn't breath anymore. That was a very big problem and Tempest himself started to struggle against Ornstein's death grip, trying to get out of it, trying to draw some air, but to no avail. A few agonizing minutes later, Tempest felt himself fade away and the next time he regained consciousness, it was at the bonfire.
"Being suffocated by an ancient knight in your sleep, congratulations Tempest, that was your most dumb death ever.", he said to himself, searching for some humanity, before he decided that it was more important to run back to Ornstein and help him with his nightmare.
Turned out, Ornstein was already wide awake, frantically scanning the room and almost jumping out of the bed when Tempest came back into the room.
"Little Storm!", Ornstein said and then gasped. "Wait, why are you... have I...?"
"You had a nightmare, Ornstein.", Tempest said, voice calm and collected. "You asked me to stay and... you, um, your habit of cuddling things in your sleep, you know."
Ornstein stared at Tempest and his hollowed out face and then his face just fell. "Little Storm, I am SO sorry.", he said and Tempest swore he saw a tear falling down Ornstein's cheek. "I didn't want to, I..."
"It's fine, Ornstein, it was only the 33rd time.", Tempest grinned. Ornstein just stared at him and then both of them broke out into a laugh, Ornstein's was broken up by occasional sobs however.
"Are you fine now, Ornstein?", Tempest asked, with a tired smile on his face.
"I...", Ornstein said. "I don't know."
Progress. Finally Ornstein admitted to not being fine. Tempest wondered what he had dreamed about, but it clearly hadn't been anything good.
"Take your time.", Tempest said. "It is almost time for dinner. I will reverse this.", Tempest gestured at his himself and his hollowed out form. "And then it is time for the rest of the mushroom rice. And dessert."
Ornstein just looked at him and then said: "Thank you, little Storm. I gladly await it."
(Author's note: The 32 times actually were the times Tempest got knocked off the roof by the archers, but it was the first thing that came into mind and I am pretty sure Ornstein killed him at least 32 times.
I actually wanted to put even more stuff in that chapter, but it got so long already, so that I decided to break it up in two chapters.
As always, please consider leaving me a comment and tell me your favourite part of the chapter!)