Dark Souls III; Love under the moon [A Fan-Fiction] [AshenOnexSirris]

Chapter 12; Comfort

          There is no cure for hollows. Everyone knew that. Only death will cleanse them. There, in the mud murky waters lies a woman whose heart has been shattered, holding dearly of her beloved granddad's cold vessel. Her arms must've turned weak, her heart troubled. She was vulnerable, defenseless. It was no time to interrupt, nor in any sense to disturb her mourn and acceptance. So, he made his way around the Pit of Hollows, ensuring no enemies are in the premises. When no presence of such came to arose, he took a glance at the emotionally wrecked of a faltered woman. 

"We should bid him farewell." He told, clutching tightly on her shoulder blades as means to say, 'time to let go'. She only nodded, with faint sound of sniffing. In the little time he had went gone, he brought back a wagon along with a horse. The Undead carried his acquaintance's corpse to the wagon he returned with. Sirris climbed along the back, staying near her granddad, and in so they set out. 

Upon their arrival, they had came to a wonderful breath-taking shore. Clean and sparkling with the burning sun above as it reflects itself on the ocean as like a mirror, but disoriented, much like their reality . The two disembarked their seat, and Sirris was in awe upon the sight. A voice pulled her away from her trance, "Assist me in grabbing woods." and as she was taken back to reality, away from such haven of warmth and sight, her eyes bore back to pain and the cruel world; the corpse of her granddad that laid idly peaceful on the wagon. 

In her sheer wants to distract, manipulate, and deny reality of its never-ending nightmare, she made haste to help with the task asked. By sun set, where the burning sphere of warmth kiss the world as it bleeds to the sky; dying forth - Sirris thought of a phrase. 

'Even the Sun bleeds red.' 

She stood, alone at the beach where her boots sank slightly among the sands; all while her focus were none other than towards the emitting source of warmth, comfort and light - Dying. 

Heavy footsteps strolled far behind, marching its way to her direction. 

From the corner of her eyes, she could make out the pile of woods gathered, all laid down on the sand. Soon, the figure of her companion came to view, along with the body of her granddad. Finally, she tore her fixed eyes from the sun and unto the Unkindled who carried the body with extreme delicacy, care and respect. The simple kind gesture, revealed just much about how the two must've been. 

 Envy..

Sirris, herself felt envy.

The Unkindled had the luxury of time to had converse with her granddad. 

How else could their greetings been explained otherwise. 

She had only ever had just about a ounce of time with her granddad. All until he suddenly left, disappeared. A young toddler she only was, and yet those small moments were a colossus impact that she treasured. 

Anger..

It boiled through her veins, clouding her judgement of reasons and thoughts.

Her vision became tainted with gruesome red of pure rage. The hilt of the sword was gripped by her gauntlet of fingers as her hand wrapped itself tightly on the handle. A loud roar came behind the Unkindled as he gently lay Hodrick's body to rest upon the piles of wood. Rather than a loud roar, it was a screeching scream instead, mixtures of only the dark - agony, envy, anger and wrath. 

Wrath.. 

In such quick instance, in a haste the Unkindled vanished. However, due to the sand - invisibility was futile. He reappeared, but now with a new ring that held the emblem of a black hunter. On guard, she re-positioned her thrusting stance as he charged into the mouth of the lion. 

Despair..

Hope. A fragment of element that's delicate to just maintain existence, especially in the crude brute world they resided in. Anguished, it was, in mere moment when her favored silver estoc pierced through the fabric and flesh. Cleansed of all emotion, despair, envy, wrath, anger, pride, greed. Including hope, when she came to realize. Loosely, her gripped on the handle loosen. Sirris staggered in tiny steps backward, as her eyes bestowed her the sight of the result of her own doing. 

"N-no. I didn't mean for this! N-" 

"Fret not, M'lady Knight." In immediate response, she asked of his well being in a state of array.

"Tis but a flesh wound." A rather perceptible laugh, laughs at the horrible humor of his own.

The Unkindled pulled the blade with ease and without grunts of pain. "Don't cry, Sirris." the Undead cooed when he had took notice of beautiful woeful tears, forming from the dame's sparkling misty husky blue hue of an eye. 

He tugged the brown-ish dark leather gauntlet off his hand with the other covered in steel gauntlet of armor. Although, it was still dirty, tainted with plentiful committed sins, it felt warmth as it carried great care and concern as it caressed her milk-tone cheeks, wiping the tears that just about began to cascade through her smooth skin.

"I am here." just a simple words of three.

Solace, companionship, comfort.

Provided just for her, in the moment where she dreadfully required it. The utter of those words gave her warmth.

A/N - Has thou figured out the attempt on the seven deadly sins? Ah, yes the last one is sloth. Which refers to me for I am lazy. 


" Obscuring Ring 

Ring bestowed upon the Fingers of Rosaria, invaders who seek tongues for their goddess.

Hides the presence of the wearer when far away.

It is said that Rosaria, the mother of rebirth, was robbed of her tongue by her firstborn, and has been waiting for their return ever since. "