I'm so much happier with this chapter than the last but I did cut it off a little earlier than planned in order to keep the reader ambigeous but! Now we can all daydream about talking up Lucatiel.

And Solux, your reveiw had me laughin so hard. I freakin killed you and all you complain about is cockblocking. I mean... I see how it is.

I love all the reviews I get though. They always make me smile and some of you have very entertaining opinions.

Also! ! The DLC poll is closing after this chapter because I want to have different poll for my Darksiders story! Which, I would totally recommend if you've ever played Darksiders.

In fact, if you haven't played Darksiders, you should give it a go! The lore in it is super interesting and the protag is a (very cute and somewhat terrifying) Horseman of the appcomlyspe.

Im talking too much.

Yeah.

WARNING for semi-graphic fighting? It mentions blood and an injury but I don't elaborate too much. Still wanna give you a heads up.

You hate Earthen Peak and all its freakin Artificial Undead that want to meet you in the pit. And by pit, you mean the area beyond the pile of rubble now blocked off by one of the dark orb chucking giants. Of course it had to notice you. Now you're stuck with what? Four enemies?

You're going to have nightmares about their sickles hooking you through the shoulder blade. Fortunately (or not), it didn't kill you in a single hit, although you can see the tip poking out through your chest. Ouch.

You have to awkwardly maneuver yourself so it doesn't completely rip your arm off as it pulls the weapon back. When its reorienting itself you switch hands and hope you can kill without the use of your dominate arm.

"Lucky shot." You hiss. Whether it or any of its friends can understand you is up in the air, but it makes you feel better.

You quickly figure out you have to kill them one by one and take to running in a loop, up the ramp and jumping down when you get to end. Thankfully hollows aren't the brightest of creatures and therefore fall for your little trap.

You're dizzy by the time you finally finish them off, blood dripping down your unuseable arm. It's much less than you should've had from such an injury, but still rather unsettling. You don't think you'll ever really get used to being hacked at. Your pain tolerance on the other hand, has gone up immensely.

Morbidly poking at the injury, you wonder how you'll get the blood off your clothes. It feels gross when it dries on your clothing.

You decide you'll deal with that later and return to circling the little prison area, now breaking the wood boards and grabbing all the loot. You don't bother to heal, not when you plan on resting again before taking on Jabba over there. You're almost certain it had a different name in game, but that's what your notes say and you can't for the life of you remember what it's called in canon.

The fragrant branch is thrown into your inventory without hesitation this time, your face contorting when you remember the scent. Ugh.

You hop down from the ledge, the motion sending a wave of pain through your injury. You roll your eyes in response. Honestly, why do Undead's pain receptors still work?

There's no biological reason for my mind to send warning signals anymore, given that death isn't permanent.

The whole 'Undead' thing still baffles you, even more so than when you played Dark Souls. Like, how long do Undead live? What about Logan? Wasn't he in his hundreds in canon? Why does my heart still beat?

You try not to think too hard about it, but it's just so confusing. You settle down next to the bonfire with a frown.

Pressing your fingers to the pulse point on your neck, you have to wonder what it's like to be hollowed. You've never actually allowed yourself to die more than twice before using another effigy, so while you haven't much experience, you do know how foggy your head gets after death.

Maybe that's how they feel all the time?

Man, I am so thankful I'm not hollowed. You think slowly, trying to stretch out your injured shoulder. You're extremely pleased when it moves without pain, and even more so when you realize it didn't leave a scar.

Now that, is something that also perplexes you. What decides whether you scar or not? You've gotten several ugly ones since appearing in Drangleic and many more inconsequential markings, but realistically you should be covered in scars by now. Even killing blow scars seem random, although you do note the post-mortem aches are usually more severe when it scars.

It's just weird.

You get to your feet with an irritated frown and quickly make your way to the boss fog. Dancing around the hammer wielding hollows isn't that much of a challenge for you at all at this point, but those poisonous bugs still creep you out. Poison in general is pretty creepy though, in your opinion. It's too sneaky and downright cruel for you. A slow death is the worst.

You'd place poison a few notches above falling to your death in the "most horrible fucking deaths" list though. The absolute worst has to be the time you fell and didn't die though. You were just injured enough that you couldn't concentrate enough to grab a homeward bone and had to wait until you lost enough blood to die. That particular death haunts you. It was so cold.

You shake it off after a moment, readying your pyromancies before fading through the boss mist.

You take a second to glance around the battle field, wondering for what seems like the millionth time who designed this place. What kind of architect thought to themselves, "yeah, let's put two tiny entrances in a colossal room and a huge fucking staircase (with no railing, obviously) around the edge."?

"Hmph." You snort, noticing the pots hanging from the ceiling. Somewhere in your mess of a mind you remember... What? Poison to kill the boss maybe?

You grab a throwing knife and flick it upwards, shattering the strange ornament. One hollow and a small amount of poison tumble out.

"Bait." You realize abruptly, watching the demon turn its attention from you to the hollow. You take the liberty to break the other pots too and then throw every fire orb you've got at Jabba.

You have to admit you find it rather disconcerting that it doesn't seem to mind you're setting it on fire. Not enough to stop though. It dies within five minutes and does not put up a fight.

The rush of souls makes you shudder, but you brush it off. Next is the Baneful Queen, right?

I should probably farm before then though and upgrade my...

You stop in the doorway, eyes going wide.

"Lucatiel!" You finally say. It seems I'm forgetting even more than I assumed I would. It's almost surreal to see her casually leaning against the wall again, her famed mask in place.

Her head snaps up, and you count three heart beats before she's closing the distance between the two of you. Her arms are around you in an instant, her entire frame shuddering.

Oh. The guilt you felt previously returns with a vengeance, hitting your harder than any weapon. "Lucatiel." You repeat quietly, trying to make her eyes out behind the mask.

"I... Do not put me through that ever again. I cannot bare it." She says, her voice breaking. Not in the mood for niceties, I see. You don't blame her in the slightest. "You are... Too dear to me." She goes on, her fingers digging into your sides and making it clear she has no intention of releasing you anytime soon.

It takes you a second to process her almost confession.

"You know I can't promise that." You argue halfheartedly, biting the inside of your cheek. "I want to, but realistically-"

"Then promise you'll try!" She demands. "You- you can't talk about becoming monarch, and courting me, and being a hero in the future and then die, (y/n)."

What was that middle part? You remain in stunned silence as she continues, "You- you just fell. I felt so helpless."

"Lucatiel, no. God, no, it wasn't your fault. I was reckless, not paying as much attention as I should've. That's not your fault." You stutter, finding it hard to word. "I... I'm so sorry for making you worry."

"I wasn't! I knew you would survive but..." She sighs heavily, tilting her face away. There's a short pause and her voice changes from sad to confused, "Your shirt is torn. And bloody."

"Fight club gone wrong." You shrug carelessly. "I'll fix it back in Majula."

"Fight club." She prompts, moving one hand to trace the torn edge.

"It's a movie reference. First rule of... fight club, don't talk about... Can you not do that?" You find it very hard to concentrate when she's running her finger tips over your newly healed skin.

"What am I doing?" She snickers, and on any other occasion you would be annoyed. Now you're just thankful she's back to her normal self and apparently forgiven you.

You roll your eyes. "I'm trying to remember my home and you're distracting me."

"You know, I can sew this." She says, decisively changing the subject. You can practically hear the smile.

You blink, momentarily forgetting her fingers tracing swirls on your shoulder. "You keep sewing supplies on you?"

"Of course!" She fakes offense, leaning a bit farther away. "And basic repair equipment, although that's mostly used for sharpening."

"You're so much better at this adventuring thing than I am." You grin.

She shrugs, trying to play it off. "You have not been traveling or fighting for as long as I. It is to be expected."

"I guess." You hum, pouting a bit. "...Would it be okay for me to ask that you remove your mask?"

She falls silent for a best, freezing up. "Yes." She says slowly, dragging out the 's' sound as she pulls off the mask. She's smiling.

"Would it also be okay for me to say you look as cute as ever?" You add. Pretty daringly if you do say so yourself.

When will you come to grips with the fact you're a shy nerd when Lucatiel is nearby.

Lucatiel laughs, pressing her hand against her mouth to muffle the sound. "I... I suppose so." She says with a shake of her head. "As long as I can do the same."

"Of c- oh." Your eyes go wide when you register her words. "I don't look cute! My shirt's all bloody and gross and I probably smell like poison." You say, plucking at the hole in said shirt fretfully.

"This entire mountain smells of poison." Lucatiel snorts, tilting your face up so you're forced to look at her. God, do you want to kiss her. You could just lean up a teeny bit and...

"Is your whole family tall?" You ask without thinking.

She laughs, breaking the tension. "Everyone aside from my father."

"Is brother taller or shorter? He's older, right?" You get up on your tiptoes and try to see if that makes you the same height.

"Aslatiel would argue he's taller, but I believe we're even." She smiles, moving to grab your hand. "What of you?"

You blink. "You wanna know about my family?"

"Of course. It is only reasonable that we both share our pasts." She hums.

"Well... Yeah. Sure!" You laugh.

"And I can fix your shirt, if you would like?" She adds on cautiously.

"Oh, sure! That'd be great actually. Sewing is a good skill to learn."

You really have to work on picking up subtleties.

Times you've failed to realize Lucatiel is trying to flirt : 2 and counting.

Great job, ya fucking cutie pie.

I mean that affectionately, dearest readers.