Hello wonderful people, I still do not own the dxd series, or the dark souls series, sorry!
Pilgrimage - The grey one.
The squire had split paths with his eastern friend several months ago, but could still feel her weight on him every waking moment. Lacking a traveling companion, a solemn soul continued long the lonely dirt path.
He passed a serene lake, complete with deer bending their necks down to the cold surface, as he watched calmly, a slight movement convinced him share sights with a grown adult who's antlers reached out like a curved sword. With an intent to relieve the distress that came with an empty repository, he made footsteps towards the tranquil lake, lowering altogether to receive the water body's blessing. It was part of a large lake, a good sign for all travelers, weary or newly departed.
The both of them turned away from each other at the same time, one refocused on a lake and it's cool waters, another returned his hopeless eyes to the container he continued filling, it reminded him of what he will become, even if he should become a silver knight.
Ahh, nothing.
A single knight of an army rarely carries any meaning beyond individual power, a kind that appeared in all the others within the silver legion. A single droplet of water in a great ocean.
After reflecting on several hopeless occasions of his early life, the squire came to a disconsolate realization that his life would conclude within a prison of somberness.
The aching inside stacked with the fatigue from the day of travel, and the heels of his feet surged with exasperation. Within his mind, flat surfaces became all the more alluring. The grass next to that tree, which so happened to be the closest? Or perhaps the stump that stood silently opposite the dirt road, away from it's trunk-bearing relatives.
From his perspective, both scenes reminded him of Asane. The shaded grass was similar to where he had awoken to her weight on him, and a stump was where she sat most of the time they were together.
He left footsteps that veered from the brown path into a shady tree, not because it was covered by generous leaves of it's siblings, he needed a little rest, a short period of sleep. The sunlight that showered the lonely stump would sear his skin should he fall asleep.
The grass of the tree was chosen so that when he sleeps, it might simulate a dream in which the girl was still with him, perhaps in comfortable silence, even in a meeting of steel. The best would be a falsified re-enactment of when he awoke to her close body using him as a stool.
The heart fluttered extensively when he came to grasp the situation, then again, he felt similar whenever a person did something like that. So far just his thief of a sister bid herself to that position. Weight was slowly pushed into the cold trunk with a lean of the body, and the squire caught up with his weariness, wondering if he was the right person to be sent on the mission. It could have been any other, more adept, individual, so why him?
The mind escaped from those thoughts, and retreated into a rest. Holding the sword and it's cover within his arms comfortably, even though bark was a hard, firm substance, with the body's demand for rest, it seemed like a pleasant headrest. Tired eyes watched only darkness.
The squire had hoped to dream of the girl every night, knowing that they are now an unfathomable distance from each other. It was the only time a dash of hope dared to exist.
Dreaming of a time with familiar eastern girl, he reveled within his rest against the tree's bark, evading the desolate truth of his woeful existence. Hoping that she thought of him at times as well, dreaming that he meant something to her, and that her words were solid, and not a hollow promise to be forgotten in just a pair of months.
In his dreams, she leaned her head on his adjacent side lazily sitting on her hands, with the legs following a similar fashion as they propped against a bag.
She said that he's sad, somehow without any words. He just lay there, looking for an answer.
Dreams are an illusion, and exist only as a thought.
She turned away from the sky, towards him.
Her mouth moved, lacking the words that would usually accompany the action.
The pleasant vision faded away, leaving heartache at her disappearance, soon put aside for the attention of a low whining from deeper into the forest.
Obviously, only an animal would whine that way.
His self-wrought duty compelled him from the tree branch. Truly, he was sad that he had to leave it's bark, it was a place where he had been allowed to dream a peaceful vision. His thanks to the wood was a weak, sad tracing of the place where his head had rest. He doubted the bark would return his gesture, but maybe, the tree would do the same for another harrowed soul and allow them to dream their pleasant visions.
With a final painless chafe, the squire turned his head further into the dark forest, his ears heard a distressing whine become more and more panicked.
Quickly gathering his scattered items, he lifted his legs in the direction of the faint distressing call.
The squire had been scratched by a light, scrubby branch, stumbled over a camouflaged log, briefly disturbing whatever made a home within. Several repeats of this, and he passed a thick brush of green.
On the other side was a clearing, as well as his future companion, but she was in desperate need of assistance.
When his heart collapsed from the vision of a pup wolf sprawled to one side of the earth, he rushed to her side. The hands fumbled above her body, confused at what to do, wasting time while the juvenile proceeded to die. The despairing body swelled with each lungful of air that tried to replace her fading life. The hands did nothing, while the eyes feared a death at his inactivity through their frenzied darting.
The thousands of stars far off in the sky had given the squire his sense back, and he pulled a small, flat, rectangular flask from his side. Gifting it's glorious contents to the depraved young, who's tongue lacked the slobber all should have, it came back from the land of the dead, however, when she felt the distinguished taste of wetness visit her.
It was like the gods had shined their light at her lowly, dying self.
Her half-lidded eyes slowly opened wider, life returned to her at an agonizing pace. He saw her blue iris scamper to everything in her sight, coming to a halt at his distinct coloration, dissimilar from the green and grey behind him. The dry sponge in her slightly toothed jaws followed the source of the chilled water, ending at the neck of the brass flask, lacking the strength to move anything else other than her blue eyes. The pinkness scoured the outings of the brassiness, searching for any droplets, discovering only that the chilled stream had ceased.
The wolf, with her eyes, focused on a person's back frantically disappearing into the boundless green frantically, having taken the container with him, but left his sword and traveling essentials here with her.
'Please. Don't leave me...'
The squire had made an unholy scamper to the old lake, all with the same goal in mind, to heal the dying, abandoned wolf. The aching of his legs found him as he sat on a rock, a fishing rod in the hands, with the line in the lake.
After lords knows how many hastened trips to and from, her body's frantic breathing slowed, becoming a stable condition. Stable enough for him to lift and carry closer to the lake.
Beside him, a large brown bear kept her peace, intending to discover what the strange stick in his hands would accomplish. So far, it just connected to the water, lacking any noteworthy traits. The pack of deer had cleared off, the savior noticed at some point between his frantic travels between two destinations, whether if they departed due to his antics, or had been fulfilled by the lake, was a question with no answer.
The bear sat on her bottom, arms held against the grass in support. When a splashing near the line that connected the stick and the lake occurred, the furred animal stood to her legs and arms in partial excitement, what would the large stick do?
The savior pulled the point of the stick closer to his chest, and upwards to the sky, the bear checked between the flat splashing and him, with action finally arising.
However when what came from the line had been revealed to be a mere minnow of a fish, she lowered her head in shame at being so gullible to believe that the stick was for something like that.
Slowly, like a sister who recognized a pitiful little brother fail at the most simple of tasks, the brown bear trudged into the lake, close to the rushing stream that allowed water from a higher area to drip to this location.
The squire merely looked on in confusion as the furry creature sat once more. A glint of silver scales originating from the white stream had caught his eye, and he wondered of the bear's relation to the fish.
Oh...
There were large mandible's within her mouth, of which held a larger wriggling fish. She ambled to him directly, the water seemed to be like air to her, as it was ignored so easily, the only attention was when she flapped her body once she left the body of water. As the squire loosely held his fishing pole, the bear outstretched her neck to him, suggesting that he take the fish.
When her black eyes saw the confusion on his face, a raspy grunt came from within. Finally placing the rod down, the savior took the present by the head and fins, discovering a calmness in it's form.
The bear receded her jaws, and returned to sit beside the squire as he assessed the fish.
"...My thanks..."
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