Sær gasps, wiping the sweat off his brow.

The plateau that the others rested on has long since dissappeared, obscured by jagged grey clouds. Beams of light peirce the many layers of clouds sporadically, mercifully shining light on the Arch Tree and allowing Sær to see what he is doing.

From afar, the Arch Trees look smooth, straight, like an organism that defies the asymmetrical quality of life on this scale. Up close, however, the truth becomes readily apparent. The tree twists and spirals, large branches sparse along the trunk. The bark is large and easy to climb, yet rough and jagged, leaving Sær's hands rubbed raw by the end of the first day.

That was nothing, however, compared to the jagged barbs that lined it's branches, the multitude of rows looking like the teeth of a shark.

"Tch! Ahh," Sær winces as the bark scrapes his tender hand. The barbs were easy enough to avoid, and only mildly painful. He sighs. "This tree's bark is worse than it's bite."

Sær swears he can hear a groaning carried on the wind, though perhaps it's merely the tree shifting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Priscilla lays in the field, tossing and turning, overcome with worry for her husband.

"Are you alright?"

A soft, accented voice reaches her ears, and she turns to find the Doll looking over her.

"Oh, hullo, miss Karina. I... I just... Miss my husband, is all," she responds, giving the Doll a weak smile.

"Truly?" The Doll tilts her head. "It has only been a day, and he is like to be gone for several more."

Priscilla smiles sadly. "I know, but... We've never been apart this long. Well, aside from the time we were trapped by vampiric trees for a few dozen years, but we weren't concious for that."

"I see," the Doll says, figuring it would be best not to question her. Who knows what this strange creature is talking about? (Rather hypocritical coming from a sentient doll, but valid nonetheless.)

Priscilla continues, oblivious to the Doll's obliviousness. "I was alone for so long while I lived in that painting. Skeleton-wheels do not make for very engaging company, you know!"

The Doll struggles to keep her face placid. This creature is mad.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Night creeps along the edge of the land of Lothric, the shadows stretching into the light of the moon, pulling it closer. Heavy rain pours from the skies, plink plinking on the armor of fallen knights throughout the land. The hollows of the city scurry to shelter in sewers and alcoves, the last rusty cogs of their memories telling them that their armor would become unusable once rusted.

While initially grateful for the rain cooling his skin, the downpour quickly soured Sær's mood. The rain had soaked his cloak through, and his undergarments cling to his loins like grasping icicles.

The hollow soldiers peer out from their refuges, glaring angrily at him. occasionally, one would loose an arrow, only for it to be lazily swatted aside by the back of Sær's hand. "Predictable withered fools. YOU HEAR ME? PISS OFF!"

He hurls a pebble (a quite thrilling one, at that,) towards a hollow archer, where it smacks against it's cheek and sinks in. The thing groans, twitching and hopping in a vain attempt to knock it loose. Sær smirks.

The city of Lothric is massive beyond comprehension, a veritable mountain of pointed spires, high walls, and rambling stone houses. It has the look of a poorly-designed shanty town, albeit one made by brick and mortar. The main roads are few and far between, and Sær has to trudge through a maze of alleys towards what he hopes is the castle. Rusty water runs through the place, the first rainfall in weeks gently coaxing dried blood off the cobblestone.

The hollows are clustered more densely, indicating that the castle can't be far off.

After sinking a fair few pebbles into the faces of their kin, the hollows back off, not willing to risk combat while they can't fight back. Sær quickly turns to a group of them, baring his teeth. The withered things dart backward, stubling over each other while retreating further into the shadows. Sær chuckles.

Darling?

"AAAIIIIEEE!" Sær's heart skips a few beats, his wife's high voice ringing through the air. The metal orchid pendant around his neck opens, and a gentle blue light fills the alley.

Darling?! Are you all right?

Sær clutches his chest, willing his pulse to slow. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Just a particularly ugly hollow that I defeated; such a ridiculous scream it emitted!"

Priscilla giggles. I'll say! It sounded like a wee maiden who had just spied a spider!

Sær winces. "Yes, well... To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

O-oh, I just... I just wanted to check in! On you. N-Not that you need me to, of course!

I... So I.. She sighs, the embarrassment in her voice clear. Oh, fine, I wanted to hear your voice! I miss you, and it's all your fault for volunteering to climb that stupid tree!

"Someone had to do it," Sær replies. "I miss you too. I'm going as fast as I can."

Well, g-good. It's lonely down here... Mister Hunter shuts himself in his workshop all day, mister ashen-face just trains, the Fire Keeper stands facing a tree, and I think miss Karina thinks that I am crazy! And it is so dreadfully boring, and this place is so small that there is hardly any space for me to run around! And there is no place for me to sleep! What kind of host doesn't have crossbreed accommodations?!

Sær frowns. "Priscilla, this isn't like you. Are you alright?" She is silent.

No, she sniffles. Not really. I wanna go home. With you.

"We can't just leave Vengarl to fend for himself," Sær says, frowning.

I know, but... I feel... Wrong. I had become accustomed to being alone in Ariamis, for so many years. Then you came along, and at that moment, I knew that I never wanted to be alone ever again. These past few months have felt like a whole new life, and, and...

"Hm?"

Forget I said anything. I'm making a fuss over nothing.

"No. No, you're not. You went through something terrible, Priscilla, and that memory isn't going to go away. It's normal for you to be scared and unsure; there's nothing wrong with you."

More silence. Sær continues, keeping a brisk pace through the city. "I'm not faring much better. I really miss you, Priscilla. Its only been two days and already I can't stop thinking about you."

Tch. 'Priscilla, Priscilla, Priscilla.' Hmph.

"Fine," Sær mumbles. "I miss you... Darling."

He can practically hear her beaming. That's more-

"Shh!" Sær interrupts. "There's some one here."

Immediately she fall quiet. Sær slowly pads to the center of what looks to be a throne room.

Suddenly, an intense heat lights up his side, an orange glow showing at the edge of his vision. With a startled yell, he dives towards the ground just as a massive, flaming greatsword smashes into the ground where he was standing. A blast of flames emit from the edge, propelling Sær farther and setting his short cape aflame. He lands with a painful grunt, rolling to put out the flames.

He stands, puffing, sweat on his brow. In front of him is a truly massive person, somewhat smaller than his wife, shuffling towards him on his knees. A chuckle emits from the opposite side of the room, and a frail, youthful voice reverbates throughout the throne room.

"My, oh my, another dogged contender."