Hello again all you vagabonds and outlanders, did you miss me?! You missed me, didn't you?(*sparkly eyes)
-why the hell would they miss a pervert like you?
You again! Why are you still here? And I'm no pervert, you've got the wrong guy.
-I'm here to ensure you don't make a fool of yourself - as well as me in the process - and I do have the right guy. It was you that wanted to dress our favourite cross breed in tight leather.
I said BLACK leather and you know it! Don't make it look it worse than it sounds, and I said that because she'd look good in it(*mopes around the room)
-you haven't even created a virtual room to mope around in. And don't you mean I shouldn't make it sound worse than it looks? Now stop being dramatic, you're making me look bad to the reader's.
Yeah? We'll you try taking mental abuse with a smile!
-it isn't mental abuse if you're typing it out genius.
Wait, really? It isn't?
-(*sighs) just continue with the next chapter please.
Gladly!
-(like I suspected, he's like a bipolar child)
Did you say something?
-you're just imagining things.
Yeah, you're probably right… on with ze story!
"Wait… I know you." Laurentius stammered out, pointing an accusing finger towards the seated woman in black. Priscilla turned to him in worry after hearing his uncharacteristic stutter while Argon folded his arms and leant against the pillar wearing a smirk behind his mask.
"Oh, this will be good." He said as the pyromancer began to speak again.
"S-Salaman spoke of you many times. He would describe a fair woman with a voice as calming as the evening s-sea's waves that wielded knowledge and skills strong enough to rival an Everlasting D-Dragon.
"I hadn't been privy to any other information about you besides your name but after just meeting you, for some reason, I feel an unfamiliar p-pull towards you - as if the flame I hold yearns to return to its source."
He continued to stutter and stammer before a soft laugh broke him from his ramblings. The swamp dweller lifted his gaze to her standing form only to turn a deep crimson when the lady in black pulled off her hood and allowed the rich silver locks of her hair to cascade down her shoulders and frame her heart-shaped face like a curtain of moonlight. Her deep black eye's crinkled as her gentle smile reached them and her skin seemed to glow in the dull swamp as if she were it's only source of warmth.
"So this is the young pyromancer you always talk about." She turned her smiling face to the masked undead who shrugged boredly. The young woman's smile only grew wider, making her already beautiful features become breath taking before looking back at a stunned Laurentius and bowing gracefully.
"I'm surprised Salaman would go so far as to mention his teacher, but I am glad nonetheless that his student's have such high regard for me." She raised her head as she spoke and took small but confident steps towards the pyromancer, bare feet the color of milk that shot out of her black robe with a steady pitter-patter. Laurentius' breath stopped in his throat as she stood a few inches away from his body, that gentle smile of hers growning as she showed him perfectly white teeth, her eyes closing pleasantly as she spoke.
"But yes, I am Quelana, daughter of the Witch of Izalith. It truly is a pleasure to meet you."
The best the bearded undead could do was wheeze out a reply. Quelana simply laughed again before stepping away and resting her dainty hands behind her back. For a moment Laurentius wondered if such beauty was just an illusion, but purged the idea from his mind hastily to silently admire the flawlessness of the lady before him. If he had any doubts about attraction at first sight, he immediately burned it to a cinder in his mind.
"Who is this?" Quelana asked innocently, staring at Priscilla with curious onyx orbs.
"Oh, forgive me, I am Priscilla. It is a pleasure to meet you."
"My, your voice is so soothing... and you have a tail! Are those scales on your neck real? That scythe of yours is massive. How do you manage to carry it around?"
"W-Well I…" the cross breed began but was at a loss for words. She was in no way socially introverted yet she felt so nervous around this mesmerising witch. Her personality was bubbly and her eye's spoke of unhidden curiosity that looked as if it spanned for decades. What stunned her more was how eager this woman seemed to be to converse with them in her gentle manner, it was almost like a motherly kindness that she just couldn't refuse yet at the same time felt nervous to comply to.
"I think that's enough questions for now, Quelana." Argon spoke finally, amusement in his voice as he broke the spell that the Izalith daughter had placed on his two companion's. "I think we can all share bedtime stories a bit later."
"Yes, you are right." She replied, turning to walk back to her spot from before and sitting down with her legs tucked comfortably under herself.
"What is it that you have come back here for?"
Argon pushed himself off the ivory pillar and placed his hands on his hips as he spoke.
"I'm going to fulfil that request you asked of me not long ago."
Immediately, as if a ship's anchor had been dropped, Quelana's smile slipped into a wide-eyed gasp, her pale hands covering her small red lips.
"Well actually I was lying, he's going to be the one to fulfil your request." He pointed a thumb at a dumbstruck Laurentius and the witch turned her now teary eyes to look at him hopefully, the sight melting the pyromancer's heart and causing another shade of red to fill his cheeks.
"Do you truly mean it?" She asked him, her voice breaking as she spoke.
"I-I…"
"Of course he does," Argon slapped the pyromancer on the back playfully to bring him out of his stupor and rested his elbow on his shoulder, "and you're going to be helping him, 'Lana."
The witch gasped and took a few trembling steps back, a hand to her heart as she gave him a look of fear and horror.
"B-But I can't… I m-made a vow that I would n-never-"
"Yes, I know, you can't enter Izalith again for obvious reason's." Argon cut her off and gave his undead friend a push. Laurentius was too dazed to react properly and gain his footing back as he tumbled forward towards Quelana. His hands reached out to stop his momentum when they finally slammed into the side of the ivory pillar, unfortunately trapping a shocked Izalith daughter between them. Laurentius gasped and froze as he stood there, hands on either side of the fair woman's head, pinning her to the wall with their faces no more than a few centimeters away. He began to feel dizzy when her warm breath brushed against his face and her sweet smell of pine filled his nostrils. The both of them gulped in unison at the compromising position as they shared a blush that lit their faces red like the pyromancy gloves they wore.
"You'll be teaching Laurentius here the spells you taught your former student so that he can be strong enough to face your grotesque mother."
Priscilla looked at Argon as he puffed out his chest with pride, obviously smirking behind his mask that he had managed to make two pyromancer's light up like twin fireballs. She sighed out with a small smile gracing her lips. He could be so devious at times.
"Well, we're off. Train him well 'Lana!"
Both pyromancer's immediately untangled themselves to turn and glanced at him in bewilderment as he motioned for Priscilla to follow him, casing a spell with his catalyst before his body disappeared from sight. The cross breed in turn gave them a shy smile and a wave of goodbye before she swept her hand around her. Icy wind swirled around her like twinkling stars before she too blended into the background and disappeared from sight, leaving two blushing, embarrassed and awkward pyromancer's together to their own devices.
"So…" Quelana turned her gaze to Laurentius, onyx eyes peering into his chocolate ones intently as he addressed her.
"I've heard Argon say that you're proficient in weaving firestorms and rapport spells…"
"Do you think it was wise to leave them together, as flustered as they are now?" A worried cross breed questioned as she accepted Argon's hand, her slightly taller body hoisted up effortlessly by the masked undead's strength.
While it was true that the scenario they found themselves in was quite humorous and cute in Priscilla's option, she had to wonder if they would really be able connect on a basic level properly. Quelana was to teach their pyromancer the spells strong enough to help slay her mother after all, who wouldn't find it difficult to communicate well under those conditions?
"I wouldn't worry, with the comprising first encounter they just had I'm sure they'll get along just fine."
He chuckled at his own words and turned around, beckoning her to follow and she complied. Argon had been many things from the start of their journey together as a trio of misfit's. Ranging from a fierce ally in combat to jovial undead without a care in the world. She envied how he could keep a straight face and a calm demeanor even though he had just been told that he was going to be the one to give his life to relink the Flame and succeed the Sunbringer of Lordran.
His attitude hadn't changed at all, and not a worry or hint of doubt had shown on his pale cheeks and sunken eyes in the rare moments he would remove that infamous mask of his. It was almost as if he knew his destiny all along and Frampt had been the one to clarify it.
She smiled gently at his back while they walked through the entrance to Izalith; small, medium and large web-layered eggs linning the circular tunnel like palor warts not ready to burst yet. The masked undead knew how heavy the task was that he'd bestowed to Laurentius, not only for the reason that the pyromancer would have to kill the mother of the art he had grown up learning but also for the personal conflict he would undoubtedly feel as he faced his own reason for coming to Lordran. It was no secret to the two of them that the swamp dweller sought to find Izalith and rebuild the smouldering embers that remained. He had spoken about it more than once during their conversations and the overflow of determination set into his eye's was an unsmotherable flame.
Argon had known he would lose some of the determination after wandering Lordran for so long, witnessing death and decay and desolation only to come face to face with his ancient ancestor's master. That had been why he had antagonised the two of them before finally arriving at Blighttown: to break the tension that had set into all of their shoulders with a third party and subtle string-pulling. He may seem like a handful on the outside but he cared deeply for his friends and hated to see them in anguish, she knew it from the casual way he approached certain matters and it made her heart flutter. It was times like these that she remembered why she was so drawn to him, and why when he did something, it filled everyone around him with a deep desire to stand by him - as if his mere presence was infectiously gorgonizing.
They passed a pair of humanoid creature's lying face down on the warm earth, the same sickly white eggs resting on their backs like a dogpile of boulders. The creatures looked like old men, bald and palour, hands together in prayer as they muttered with deep groaning voices. Argon didn't say anything, opting to skirt around them politely and continue walking until they reached the end of the tunnel that opened outwardly into an expansive room with more webbed eggs and brown stone floors.
The air shifted to something substantially warmer and Priscilla caught the scent of smoke and sulphur. A few beads of sweat formed on her brow and she huffed in annoyance, blowing icy air into her own face to try and balance her temperature. First, it was the clammy wetness of that bog that had gotten between her toes and squelched every time she took a step, and now the humidity threatened to melt her with arid dryness.
"Yep, this is definitely Izalith alright." Argon stated energetically. Her slitted-eyes slid to his position on her right and she deadpanned. There wasn't a trickle of perspiration on his skin at all.
Just how exactly was he able to divert the season's effects so easily as if he were the wind itself? It frustrated her to no end and a small scowl adorned her mouth as her emerald eyes roamed his bare arms - and what attractively toned arms they were - for any trace of hidden sweat he could be hiding under that brigand armour but found none. With a dejected sigh, she slumped forward, leaning on her scythe as she did so as he began to walk forward with his gloved hand pointing to a distant set of spiraling rock stairs that shone bronze in the large large area.
"What's the matter?" He asked her with his head titled to the side curiously. How convenient, even his stamina hadn't lessened after the muddy trekking they had just endured.
"It's nothing," Priscilla replied, catching up with him and keeping the pace with a sigh. They reached the stairway and she groaned, a hand to her face. "Why are there so many flights of stairs in the lower levels of Lordran?"
"Lordran was famed for the land of the god's, not their innovation in daily living." Argon supplied as they finally reached the roofed structure that availed what little coolness it could.
"Besides, think of it as the best way to exercise your body! Not that you really need it though…" the last part went unheard to the goddess as the masked man cleared his throat loudly, the sound echoing within the empty space.
"Exercise? Well I suppose it would do me more good than harm then…"
More eggs rested against the corners and walls like decorations and towards the exit of the structure they saw a ring-shaped hole also spotted with a number of the orbed eggs. If the hole was meant to be a work of the buildings architecture it failed miserably and instead served as a potential deathtrap if the long fall down was anything to go by. In front of the big hole, set into the curved stone window like Excalibur, was a man-sized, bronze lever; and above it, a church bell.
Priscilla's eye's widened, she had seen the first one from a distance while in the Undead Parish, her keen eyesight picking the metallic object out like a blip in the sky; however to see the sister figure this close, was oddly mesmerising. The bell wasn't anything lavish, an old hollow dome as tall as a wall suspended by heavy chains. What caught her attention was the fact that something so innocently plain and old was the pivotal factor in starting so much havoc and death for all the undead that had come and fallen just to try and sway this old piece of metal protected by labyrinths and creatures of nightmares.
She turned her eyes to her companion that had followed her gaze towards the dusty bell before grunting indifferently and turning around, legs leading him to another flight of stairs to the lower level of the room they were currently standing in. Many undead may have come and failed to reach the damnable object that was more demonic than angelic for a church bell, but it didn't phase him in the slightest. He didn't admire the method the god's had concocted to find the Chosen Undead, yes, but it wasn't the time for his opinion. Whether he objected openly to it or not didn't make a difference, the god's where all either dead or gone from the kingdom they had turned into their own undoing. And it wasn't like the fresh air would direct his voiced thoughts to the surviving god's out there if he tried, right? He thought about that for a second.
What if he did try it? I couldn't hurt… maybe the wind would magically whisk his thoughts to some stray god to annoy? Everything in Lordran was enchanted from the various areas he entered to the damn trees in the forest, maybe shouting his frustrations would help.
He opened his mouth a fraction and prepared to utter a few choice words any god would turn red from hearing before stopping suddenly and morphing his mouth into a smile.
No, don't be silly… the hot air is probably filling my thoughts with nonsense.
They descended into a circular room with faceted walls and a disk-shaped dais in the center. On the opposite end of the room was a pitch black tunnel, undoubtedly the final passageway to Izalith. They both peered into the gloomy hole for a moment, inky blackness obscuring all thought and increasing any apprehension they might have had. Argon turned his eyes away from the path for the moment to walk around the dias set into the center of the room. It held a smaller, stone carved disk set into it with cut out slits colored a fiery red.
Chaos fire… looks like some contraption.
"We'll this is homely." He spoke loudly, placing his hands on his hips like some brave hero from a children's fairy tale. Priscilla couldn't stifle the giggle that escaped her lips at the sight.
"And just look at the décor. I love what those Lizardmen and bugs have done with the place…" he said pointing to the rubble and cobwebs dotted around the room like sun spots on an old mans wrinkled face. He toed the disk set into the dias for a few moments as his companion studied the walls, taking in the pure age it possessed, and when nothing in particular happened he walked off it to inspect his belongings.
The slow journey toward Izalith's entrance hadn't come without a cost, he noted, as he briefly held up his quarter-finished flask of Estus. That ring he had found back in the Asylum had been a blessing in more ways than one during the day's he had to fight, walk and survive through thick mud and high water. Yet, even though it's use had only granted him greater motion on difficult terrain, it had done nothing to protect his body from the conditions of the places he travelled to. He pulled a fist full of flowered-moss from one of the pouches on his person and sighed at how much he had used up. He would need to buy more from that woman in the sewers soon, and no doubt she'd drain him for all the soul's he possessed - damn her for being the only person in the only safe part of Lordran that sold quality life-savers. He swivelled his head around to the goddess as she walked from one facet to the other, carefully observing the cracks in the wall with those soul-searing eye's of hers. Although their journey down here had been rough on him, it had been less than a literal walk in the park for Priscilla and Laurentius.
The swamp dweller knew his way through bogs like this one - even if he did complain about it a lot - and he had built up a strong resistance for the likes of poisons and toxic fumes. As for the cross breed, she was basically immune to any status effect - her divinity cutting through them like a spear of light in a dark room - and even though the muck had seeped between her cute toes - that's right, he would admit she had nice feet - and stained her gown considerably, she had had the mind to put her magic to better use than him by simply freezing the ground beneath her. Effectively walking on top of the knee-high waste with quick skips of ice to freeze the area of impact. He had attempted to trick her into dropping into the mud like himself and his bearded friend; stating that it felt more like a quest to suffer through annoying trials, but she would have none of it. Instead, she replied with a glare and a deeper inhale of breath that caused him to lurch back a few paces. He knew he was pushing his luck, of course, but what was the fun in not taking any risks?
It still surprised the undead whenever he looked at his taller companion. Taller for the moment, he corrected, and watched as her eyebrows came together as she pondered about something. She had come a long way from that area boss he had stumbled across half-dead without any strength to keep his shoulders square. He had done his best to get her accustomed to the modern era he lived in, and had succeeded in curbing that annoying old-speak she was so fond of conversing in, showing her the evolved methods of humankind, and even one of the greatest inventions of the current world: the lavatory.
He snickered at how much of a challenge it had been to show her how to properly utilize the innocent mechanism of iron bolts and smoothed wood; especially with how red she had turned when he announced what it's purpose was for. It had been over a few centuries after all and the routines of humans had adapted and revolutionized excessively since the arrival of great inventors and smiths from the West. It was only good courtesy to help build and display it's use to her after all since she was the only one that ate and drank. Cursed as he was, Argon found that since becoming undead he didn't require a need for sustenance like he used to. It didn't stop him from attempting to eat or drink, however, he had seen Laurentius with that gourd of his many times, gulping water and picking fruit from the trees they passed by. Personally the masked undead just didn't both since a simple nip of Estus blurred the craving and flavour of any form of edible item he placed onto his tongue, although secretly he knew he didn't eat because all that food just ended up resurfacing hours later when his body violently rejected the meals he ate for some odd reason. He didn't have a need for the modern toilet system either, placating his worried friend every time she asked if he required its use. He had only built it for her really.
He was undead. Undead didn't poop. Or at least he and the pyromancer didn't anyway.
His thoughts left him when his fingers brushed against something soft and fluffy to the touch, and he reached deeper into his pouch to grab it and hoist it out. An innocent Firekeeper soul lay in his hand as he started at it quietly. They had found this one in a chest near the primitive lift in Blighttown. None of them knew who it belonged to and the lizards guarding it didn't speak the common tongue - if they possessed any intelligence to say anything besides 'hiss' - so Argon had ended up taking it with him. It was still a soul that once had a home, he couldn't let it rot in a box forever.
Yet as he focussed on the soul in his hand, listening to the cries of countless voices merged together in a symphony of tortured voices he couldn't identity its source or even fathom it's age. He knew that many lost souls possessed original homes that had either perished or been removed but it was only these Firekeeper soul's that left him feeling down and sympathetic. He couldn't find who they belonged to, the screams they contained were just too loud, too abrasive for him to pin point.
It was untethered now, belonging to no one and everyone at the same time. A piece of sharable fruit for all to benefit from, if he were to use an example.
He was saddened by it, yet also glad. It would still be able to be passed on to a new wielder, a new vessel could acquire it. The overabundance of humanity it would grant them would be enough the stave off the effects of the curse to such a degree whereby they would almost be human. And when the day came for that vessel to depart, it would equally impart that very same soul onto another to carry the torch, to share the blessing that ancient Keeper was once born with in her bosom.
With a rueful smile, Argon crushed the soul in his hand, eye's shining behind his mask as the light swirls of white prettily spun around him, seeping into his arms, legs, chest; imparting the blessing of a long lost Keeper inside of him to continue to share the inferno of humanity it possessed. He thought about the entities that were Firekeeper's and hummed to himself.
Why were all the Keeper's female anyway? Did the god's also have a massive gender inequality along with their disgust for humans and our uncontrollable inquisitiveness? Damn hypocrate's…
"Argon," he heard Priscilla's voice call out, "come take a look at this part of the wall."
He spun on his heel and made his way to her side, eye's catching the way her tattered gown rode up her slender calves slightly as she bent over to closely inspect the wall she had called him to. He would need to give her a set of his own clothing once she came down to human height, maybe the old Dragon School leather would be a match for her white hair?
"Ah, yes. What a lovely color indeed." He teased and she pouted at him. "It's decently cracked, however, and the facet seems to be deeper than the others." She nodded firmly and tapped a claw against her scythe in thought. The sound bouncing off the empty room.
"Yes, it does hold more physical detail than the others but that's not what I wanted you to see."
"Did you perhaps want to break it down and use it to sharpen everyone's blades?"
"No."
"Good, because we've got repair powder for days… unless you mean to tell me that you broke the repair box and ate all the powder?"
"No!" She fumed, he always acted like this when it was important.
"Good, because you know how much those little things cost, right? I spent an arm and a leg to buy just one for my armour - seriously - I actually lost an arm and a leg before dying and retrieving my lost souls that day…" he said finally before they stood staring at the wall in silence. After what seemed like only a few seconds he tilted his head to her.
"...Unless you're thinking of using that wall to take an arm and a leg fro-"
"Argon!" She giggled softly.
"You're not?" He asked in a happy voice and she shook her head with a small smile. He was infuriating sometimes but it was only so there wouldn't be any uneeded pressure. For that she was glad.
"Okay, okay. What is it that you see Priscilla?" He asked turning back to the wall, all seriousness back on track.
"While the wall in front if us does appear to be ordinarily plain like the room we are in," she said and prodded the ground with the staff of her scythe.
"It doesn't feel like there's a physical wall here."
Argon glanced at her for a moment and held a hand to his mask. She watched as his hands dexterously undid the clasps before he removed it, amber eye's blinking at her. Rich pools absorbed her attention before he turned to look at the wall closely. She wouldn't admit in front of Laurentius but it was a known fact to her that Argon only ever removed his mask causally in her presence alone. She saw his face crinkle in thought as he leaned in closer to the wall and she silently prayed that the pyromancer wouldn't become upset if he one day found out about it. She knew full well how brotherly the two men acted with each other. She would hate to see such a bond break due to trust issue's and the like.
"Hey, I think you're right." Argon said and replaced the mask before pushing out a hand against the 'wall'. Their bodies tensed when his hand phased through it and the facet opened up into a deep hallway bathed in a warm orange.
A scimitar appeared in his right hand and he took cautious steps forward with Priscilla at his side, the light splashing onto his brigand armour and curved-sword like morning rays of sunlight. It wasn't long until they came upto a prone humanoid figure with webbed eggs on his back blocking the way into the brightly lit room. He looked like the same creatures praying outside of Quelaag's domain - a person Argon hadn't told anyone about save for the phantom woman that had assisted him in slaying the guardian of the second bell.
"Ah, two new ones," the creature said in an old voice, old but warm. Like the room they stood in.
"Are you here to join the Fair Lady?" He asked them, head and hairless eyebrows raised.
Priscilla had no knowledge that there was anyone actually residing here, let alone royalty – or so she assumed. She gazed back at him in mild confusion. His eye's hardened quickly, however, when she didn't answer, gaze darting to her scythe before opening his mouth to shout that there were intruder's in his midst before she heard her masked companion chuckle loudly. The creature closed his mouth and looked at him in question.
"Of course we're here for the Fair Lady. Why else would we be here of not to serve, eh?"
Priscilla sighed internally. She was again glad that Argon was able to think quickly on his feet. That could have ended badly, she noted, as the creature's left hand pocketed the pyromancy flame he had taken out from somewhere on his body.
"But you have no egg's?" Both of them froze, not expecting the trap they had fallen into. The creature looked at them closely for a moment longer before scoffing.
"Bah, what does it matter. Please come in, but mind your manners. The Fair Lady is not well." He said dismissively and turned slowly, struggling under the heavy eggs pinning him to the floor before he finally gained a grip on the dusty ground and crawled to the side for them to enter.
Argon hadn't had the chance to notice before but behind that humanoid creature sat a slowly burning bonfire. He sighed in appreciation, at least now he could reforge his armaments and fill his Estus flask to the brim. This was also a saving grace for their long journey back to the surface. All he would need to do now is warp him and Priscilla out when Laurentius was ready to say goodbye. He hadn't even known there was a bonfire on this side of Blighttown. Laurentius would be so mad when he saw this.
Back at the ivory pillar of Blighttown, where the enormous lizardmen stood like sentient pieces of ugly art and the floor bled dull hues of brown, yellow and rust, a loud sneeze rang out, causing the boulder-carrying lizards to turn their heads toward the sound before dumbly staring back at nothing in particular. They were too busy hefting boulders to care about someone's sneezing anyways.
"My, that was quite loud. Are you alright?"
Laurentius sniffed and patted a stray flame from his robes with a dreary blink. That was an unusual thing to happen. He was undead, they didn't get sick… did they?
Am I catching a cold?
"Laurentius?" Quelana placed a gentle hand on his arm, which he caught unconsciously, causing her milk complexion to burst into red again.
"Yes- yes." He cleared his throat. "Just fine, my lady. It's probably the air her- Oh!"
His eye's widened when he noticed just how close he had accidentally pulled her and the gloved hand of his that had latched onto hers as if for life-support. His cheeks dusted red whilst Quelana's face exploded into a red tomato, her face gently resting against his chest due to their close proximity.
Hesitantly, he let her go and took a small step back, small enough to remain in her personal bubble. Was that sandalwood he smelt in her hair?
"We… we should continue with the Undead Rapport you were talking about."
"Y-Yes… as I was saying…" she looked up slowly, onyx eye's captured in his chocolate orbs and she stopped her words. She felt an odd desire to draw closer to him and time seemed to slow as her arms placed themselves on his broad shoulders almost automatically as he brought his face closer to hers. She smelt the mint on his breath and her eyes fluttered to a close as her soft lips met his in a chaste kiss. Her heart sped up drastically and for a moment Quelana imagined she was floating. They broke the lip-lock reluctantly to gaze at each other's eyes once again, attention only locked onto the another.
"Perhaps we should… halt the lesson." She said breathlessly. "U-Until we can fully focus on pyromancy that is…"
"I'd like that." Laurentius replied and gently pulled her lips back against his as a different spark flickered between them.
Just this once, the pyromancer was glad his masked friend had made the situation awkward for him and the new face he came into contact with.
"Come now, don't dally." The creature - who they now knew as Eingy - scolded, casting a frown at the pair. "Come and establish your covenant with the Fair Lady."
Priscilla nodded and turned to the figure against the opposite side of the wall he was talking about. She was about to call out for Argon to follow when she heard him audibly gasp in shock and her eye's swivelled round to stare at his prone body stuck like a prettified statue.
"Argon?" She called out but he didn't answer. Her worry escalated when she noticed his body begin to quiver.
"Argon!"
But the undead didn't hear a word she said. His eye's were too focused on the figure before him lying there weakly, sickly, with her clawed hands held together in quiet prayer.
"W-Wait… it-its you," Argon said, barely audible for Priscilla to hear.
"But how? It c-can't be…"
Argon hastily rubbed the wall of blood from the side of his cut face with heavy limbs that smelt of sulphur and burnt fabric. The floor around him was encased in thick motlen lava that seared the dry air and lazily grew in a wobbly rhombus-shaped mat of red and bright orange.
The breath he took in scorched his lungs and suffocated his brain as his phantom accomplice supported him from falling over into the liquid fire, his charred guantlet draped over smooth, toned shoulder's. The tribal woman with a sack hat and meat cleaver the size of a human being had been a great help to him during the course of their battle against the Izalith duaghter. He was skeptical when she had offered to help him after nearly killing him moments before his big battle but was grateful for all the help he could get. Solaire wasn't anywhere around so he couldn't be choosy.
Even though the silent woman had shown an extraordinary resistance to fire - an understatement on his part after he had seen her walk through molten lava clad in nothing more than chest bindings and a loincloth - and had carved out more than her fair share of damage to their trying enemy, he could clearly see she had reached her limit. Staying in a phantom effigy and taking as much damage as she had was taxing on her body, at this rate her soul would be ruptured if she remained by his side.
He turned his unmasked face to their foe; half woman, half spider and grimaced as she woke up from the concussion he had just delivered to her not many moments ago. Quelaag's stamina almost seemed unending were it not for the short pant's escaping from her lips accompanied by the dribbles of blood running down from her arachnid steed. She was badly wounded, he had seen to that personally by enchanting his blade with gold pine resin, yet she still had some fight in her. If this continued for just two more rounds, he knew he wouldn't last much longer. She caught his glance and sneered, the four-inch claws on her fingers scraping against the ground with a shrill shriek as her spider half rose and gurgled more lava between it's mandibles. Quelaag's back straightened as she picked up her grotesque sword and panted again, uncovered breasts heaving with her. She began advancing towards them with slow, menacing steps.
Argon breathed in deeply himself and left the embrace of his tribal companion. She tilted her bag-covered head his way as he gulped down the last drops of his Estus and raised a tired shield arm.
"Here she comes." He breathed and the woman turned forward immediately, grasping her meat cleaver with two hands as she sprinted forward. Argon's amber orbs observed the way the lava hissed when her feet splashed into it with each step but didn't burn her.
Show off.
Quelaag's saw the scantly-dressed woman charge and drew back her sword, swiping downwards angrily with a rush of chaos energy that caused the air to crackle as it collided with the woman's great blade. She skidded backwards and dived to the side as the spider half attempted to bite a chunck out of her.
While the Izalith half-breed was distracted Argon knocked back a feather arrow and released, the steel head whistling loudly before puncturing one of the spider legs. Quelaag roared in pain, her bloodshot eye's snapping his way as his phantom aide leaped into the air and slammed her blade into the side of the woman's spider half.
Dark blood exploded from the point of impact, pooling around the Izalith daughter's waist as the arachnid screeched, obviously badly hurt. Argon sprinted forward when he felt he had enough energy, battle axe raised above his head as he leapt over the lava blocking him from Quelaag. She reacted at the last moment, however, and swatted the phantom deprieved across the room with her left hand whilst she raised her right and caught Argon's axe in mid air, black claws digging into the glinting metal as his body dangled above her uselessly.
She gave him a distasteful look and flung him down. The undead's body impacted painfully with the cracked stone and couldn't even breathe out in time before she sent a spidery leg to kick him forward, body lurching backwards and rolling a few yards away from her stationary form. He tried to get up but sharp spears of white agony filled him and he collapsed instantly, muscles tensing up as the pain rippled outwards. That kick had broken his ribs.
This wasn't going too well.
He managed a glance at his tribal companion. Her phantom body began to dissipate in dots of white, meat cleaver still jammed between tendons and muscle of Quelaag's spider half. He sighed through clattering teeth. He was alone again, not that it mattered much, the deprived had done her job, it was up to him to finish this battle now.
Argon grit his teeth as he rose on shaky knees, sharp canines protruding with slivers of blood that ran freely from his mouth. It was the final wave now. He knew it, she knew it, they were just waiting for the other to make the first move. He eyed the cleaver trapped in her flesh and frowned in determination as the lava in front of them died out like a fading piece of charcoal. If he could make it to that blade in time, he would be able to score the winning blow. He just hoped he was fast enough in his battered state.
As if some invisible proctor had raised an unseen flag, both parties darted forward; Argon pulled a short sword from his inventory whilst Quelaag reared her arm back, intent on scewering the human before her with a quick thrust. Her spider-half galloped forward in a blind rage, spider maw foaming at the mouth as it tried to snap at Argon's legs. The undead skidded to the side and plunged his sword into one of the creature's eyes and it gave a deafening wail.
Quelaag growled and thrust her chaos blade forward, clipping Argon's shoulder as he used the momentum to slide under the spider body and weave around her tall legs. The Izalith daughter screamed in fury as she tried to steer her lower half but failed due to the intense pain the arachnid felt, disorientating its way of direction. The undead used the short delay to his advantage and gripped the mighty cleaver with two hands, stepping on the abdomen of the beast and violently tugging backwards. The new sensation of pain alerted Quelaag and she turned his way, swiping wildly with her claws to get him off of her but cried out as the blade jerked back suddenly, tearing through bone and flesh as it was wrenched from her body. Fresh spouts of blood fell like a red river down her side as the spider half finally gave up it's struggle, collapsing on itself but not before the black-haired cross breed was able to slam a fist into Argon's face.
Her slender arm connected with a solid punch that sent him sprawling on his back a few feet from her and all the air left his lungs as the meat cleaver fell flat against his chest, sending daggers of pain into his already broken body.
The two stayed where they were for a full minute; they were both bleeding heavily and Argon almost cried out when he saw the spider-half open it's remaining five eyes and shakily rise to it's feet.
"You're still alive," he wheezed out and backed away as quickly as he could, a hand cradling his wounded abdomen. The arachnid limped toward him, Quelaag too tired to even raise her sword. She was going to allow her other half devour him, it was her only chance at victory.
"I won't allow you to harm my sister." Quelaag seethed with what little energy she had and he raised a bloodied eyebrow. Just what the hell was she on about now? And why didn't she say she could talk? That and more unnecessary questions blurred through his mind as the spider-half weakly approached him, hairy legs quivering as more life essence poured from its side.
The beast was at his feet, maw opened and ready munch him in half with those terrifying mandibles it possessed. In a last ditch effort, Argon, lifted a rusty throwing knife from a pocket on his hip and threw it with the last shot of adrenaline in his system. They both watched the knife sail through the air in slow motion before it impacted with a dull thud in the arachnids forehead. The creature screamed so loud blood began to drip from the undead's ears and it fell forward, Quelaag fell with the beast and gasped as the connection between her body and the spider-half was severed, sending her legless body flying into Argon with a crash.
He shouted in pain again as the weight of her body broke more of his ribcage and a spurt of blood erupted from from his chapped lips, splashing onto the Izalith daughter's cheek. More blood drenched his legs as Quelaag's severed body poured red over him, coloring his trousers scarlet. He knew that wasn't going to wash off after this. Her body writhed in agony and he was surprised when she was able to raise her chest and shoulders to glare at him, clawed-hands pressing down on his chest.
Argon hissed in pain as she she continued to lift herself up. Between her half a body and the meat cleaver, he preferred the meat cleaver. It was obvious she was heavier and it was making his broken ribs puncture his organs.
"I… won't let you harm… m-my sister…"
This again, he thought and groaned, placing a hand on the back of her head and pulling her down against his collarbone.
"Shut up already."
She stopped her movements for a moment, as if shocked that he replied, before struggling again. Argon coughed wetly and wrapped his other arm over her back, tightening his hold. She tried to claw at him but her arms just flailed around like a snake's body severed from it's head.
"Stop. That."
She stilled at the sound of his voice but didn't relax, opting to say something that was muted by how firmly her face was planted against his chest.
Argon raised an eyebrow.
"What?" He eased the pressure on her head and she breathed in a little deeper. He hadn't realized he had been suffocating her.
"I w-won't allow you near my… sister." She said again and glared her firery-red eye's at him. He could tell by the tears falling down her cheeks and the parlour in her fair skin that she knew she didn't have long. He grunted in reply and forced her cheek to rest against his body.
"I don't even know who your sister is."
He heard her mutter something that sounded like a curse.
"Why didn't you say anything when I entered before? You speak the common tongue, we could have talked this out. We didn't have to fight."
"What difference would it have made," she replied, scoffing softly, "your kind only comes here for the same reason, that damned bell."
Argon couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped his lips but groaned when it jarred the rib shard currently imbedded in his lung.
"That's true… undead like me only live to die for something so nonsensical as commanded by those obnoxious god's." Quelaag harrumphed in agreement, and he smiled with broken teeth. At least they had something in common.
"Still doesn't explain why I would be after your sister… I didn't even expect to find something like you living here, let alone a pair of you."
She didn't say anything and he was content to allow the silence to envelope them, arm still draped over her muscled back as she bled with him in stereo. It was peaceful down here despite the hell he had gone through to arrive at the white mound of tentacles they were currently dying inside. He would have liked to revel in it if he wasn't currently fighting to stay conscious.
"So what happens now?" She asked, he could hear the scowl in her voice, as odd as that sounded.
"We lie here. Like this. Until one of us finally bleeds out."
"You mean until I give my last breath and you collect my soul." She corrected and he had to chuckle again.
"You're a sharp one." He said, a smile on his face. He would have preferred it better if she stayed alive, he liked her personality.
"But while I will be reborn at the bonfire a full kilometer from here, there's no guarantee I'll remain the same me you fought not long ago."
This time Quelaag lifted her head to stare at him, her red eyes searching his amber ones for any signs of lies before she huffed and dropped her head gently against his chest again.
"So even the undead suffer. How comforting to note. It must he nice not to fear death."
"I'd rather die here with you than endure it every day of my life."
The silence returned and Argon began to feel a slower trickle of blood on his legs. She was almost all out of life.
"If it makes you feel any better, I could save your life… you'd only need to drink from my Estus flask and burn your inside's but I'm sure you're used to it already."
Quelaag laughed above him. It was a pretty laugh, not one he'd expect on her rough appearance. He liked it.
"You would save the foe you already murdered?
"I enjoy the company." She let out another laugh through quick breaths. "Besides, if I do, you can be with your sister again."
she shook her head on his chest and perched her chin to stare at him, a small tear falling from her wet face as she felt her life fade from her severed body.
"My time is up. My sister will follow shortly after." She smiled softly and placed a clawed finger against Argon's lips when he opened his mouth to protest.
"She is deathly ill and only survived this long with my aide. The eggs around us are the humanity I have scavenged to keep her breathing. She has suffered enough now, as have I…"
Her face contoured into complete suprise when she saw a solitary tear slide out from his amber eyes before she smiled that pretty smile of her's again and placed a soft kiss on his bloodied lips.
"What is your name human? I would like to know the man that slew me with compassion in his heart."
"A-Argon…" he choked out through blurry eyes as Quelaag began to glow, her body breaking apart from her soul.
"Argon," she tested the word on her tongue and smiled at him again, bringing her dissipating hand up to stroke his face affectionately.
"Best this accursed land and find freedom…" He could do nothing but sob silently as her body eventually burst into particles of gold and white that swirled around him, releasing the now comforting warm weight on his body only to leave behind the coldness of loneliness. A small orb of crackling soul essence rested on top of his broken chest gently, a comforting warmth flowing out from it to encase his tired body in the life he had just allowed to die in his arms. Another tear slid down his face as he cradled the soul between his bloody fingers, his darksign activating and beginning to turn his body into white specks of light.
"Quelaag…"
I wanted to continue with this chapter until it reached 12k in word count but because of all the new ideas tearing away at my mind for dominance after writing out the battle for the second bell, I had to stop. My apologies if I stopped the tempo prematurely.
Again, I'm completely speechless that this story is gaining so much popularity in the space of a single month and a quarter. People are more attracted to this fic than my Naruto one-shots - although I suppose it's because the NaruHina hype has died down considerably over the last few years.
Thank you for reading, if there were any mistakes in grammar, sentence structure, etc.; I am sorry again, sometimes I miss a word(many words) or two when I proof-read my work.
Please do R R (perhaps placing a space between them will help include my lovely ampersand), I'd love to read your thoughts and any possible idea's you've thought about in terms of the outcomes and eventualities of the various characters/events/plots/etc.
Have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening/dusk/dawn/breakfast/lunch/supper.
Stay progressive!