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“If I were told that by killing you, I would be freed of my curse then I would draw my sword without hesitation.” Lucatiel murmured into her mask, unsure if the words reach the outside world. “It shames me, but it is the truth.” She stress those words, ensuring they are loud enough for her guest to hear. He is an odd fellow. For being in a kingdom breaking apart by the seams, with residents equally as frayed, this guy never passed up the opportunity for a chat. Lucatiel is not personable, but she found herself dragged into any chance to express her thoughts to someone else. It helped make her worries real, for all reality mattered here.
The man in question started humming to himself. His careless attitude is like gut punch, but he carries on without interruption. No use in spreading the misery, even though she could use some compassion or respect. Although, she muses, if her minds so weak as to allow those thoughts, perhaps she is far too gone to care about. At such a statement, some embers within her burn bright again. No need to continue like that yet. “Do you have something to say?”
“Not too much,” His voice came out in a low-toned whisper. It sounds unfamiliar despite swearing he spoke to her before. “But, uh, why are you down here?” Without moving her head, she scans the area. Just another cave.
“I do not see anything special about our surroundings. Why ask?”
“Well, it isn’t about here specifically, but…” He cuts off his words. “Can you name where we are?” The man inquires.
“I would be surprised if this place has a name.” Lucatiel starts getting defensive. Of course she would know where they were if a single other person could name this cave.
“It does have one.” That excludes this nut. “Called Black Gulch. I had drop a couple miles down a well and scurry across scaffolding made of twigs to get here. It’s hard to imagine someone wandering their way into this place.” Lucatiel give a hum of acknowledgement. “Listen. I don’t want to pry into your life, but if you’re down here with no plan, no sense of direction, and no knowledge, then how are you going to leave?” It’s not a kind question to ask, the knight thinks, nor a comfortable one to answer. She tries to retread the path here. The well… the center of Majula comes to her, although no memory of dropping down it. The ‘twigs’ brought no inspiration.
How did she get here? Lucatiel tries working backwards. Walk up the sloping cave from the entrance… walk up the sloping cave from the entrance…. walk up the sloping cave from the entrance… how did one reach the cave? An empty void sat on the tip of her tongue. There was nothing before strolling up here for a rest.
“Hello?” She snaps to attention, not making moving an inch. “No plan then?” Lucatiel finally releases a sigh of defeat.
“None I afraid to admit.”
“Sheesh.” The man starts to rub his head, rustling the cloth hood he wore. Lucatiel recognizes the action without linking it to a memory. As she thought more on the man, she realized that barely anything about the man or his motives registered. Only a few flashes of conversation stuck, and even then, her heart remembers his love of talking more than her brain does. There is a tight tug that draws out words whenever his voice enters the air. In better times, such bond would be a treasure. Right now, it lets Lucatiel believe with her gut that he is prone to showy, borderline comedic movements while talking—truly, an understanding worth treasuring.
“Well,” The man mutters with his arms crossed. “Look. We can skip the part where you need to kill me. Take…” He pauses, then spits out the rest. “Take this-” He grabs onto his left gauntlet and rips it off. Beneath is a rotten hand with a tear at the knuckles causing yellow bone to stick out from the tissue. To see the curse bloom so proud puts the knight on edge. She clutches her sword. The man is far from hallow, but the pressure and grip calm her heart regardless. At some point later, a ring is held up.
“Here. Consider this a thank you for the previous gift.” She remembers no gift, but Lucatiel is far from comfortable leaving behind a present right now. She slips off her own gauntlet, undoes the wraps, and finally grabs the ring to put it on. It goes on her middle finger.
For a brief second, the world hangs by a thread, threatening to drip off of Lucatiel’s fingertip at the slightest provocation. But the world stays attached. It recoils back onto her skin and begins sliding around like oil. It coats her from head to toe, starting at the hand she placed the ring on and flows out from there. Slowly but surely, the mind reestablishes contact with the body’s memories. Lucatiel feels the damp air, then feels the weight of her own body. She collapses onto the floor under the pressure. The pain of walking miles and miles without rest starts to tear through her all at once. What feels like hundreds of bruises and aches start pounding on the skin while a scrape on her throat starts burning the moment she tries to speak. Her brain fades out, unsure of where to direct attention, what to fix, and instead succumbs to the sudden wildfire of pain.
What feels like of second later, Lucatiel lurches forward with a gasp for air. She spends a moment trying to steady her breath before whipping her head in every direction. The man is sitting down and there is a bonfire off to her right.
“You bastard- trying to kill me, are you!?” Lucatiel tried to yell at him, but it comes out sounding like a horse croak.
“You’re killing yourself. Don’t blame me when you have pay your dues.” He had a lit in his voice and starts chuckling at the end. “Take a swig of these. Some water and estus.” A leather flask and a glowing crystal bottle come sailing over the fire. They land in a dull thud against Lucatiel’s mask and plop into her lap.
She drinks from both without a fuss. The water slides down smoothly. It tastes better than could be imagined, potential poison be damned. As a bonus, whatever ‘estus’ was soothed her pains. She started chugging both at the same time and began to feel sick. By the end of both, the pain is uncomfortable, but not unbearable.
“Feeling better?” The man asked. Lucatiel gives a shallow nod. “Perfect. That ring I gave you—found it forgotten in a chest on some water swept ruins—seems to hold off the curse. Don’t cure you or anything, but it kept me saner than before. Although, I have to say, I never blacked out when I put it on. Must’ve been a long journey for you.”
“Perhaps.” Lucatiel whispered between breaths. Despite the pain, her memories began reappearing and sorting themselves into place. She had jumped down the well, and on purpose no less. Supposedly there was a large congregation of undead in the area, meaning plenty of souls to be harvested. Souls were her only effective cure to the curse. It slowed the pace of deteriorating and made her powerful to boot. Nothing could’ve been better. Nothing at all.
“Well, if you’re ready to be moving around again, I could use your blade.”
“Already?”
“No better time than the present. A bit of exercise is good for digestion if you haven’t heard.” He laughs. Lucatiel turns to him, expression hidden by the mask, but the enmity clearly connects with him. That causes a deeper laugh from the buffoon. “I’m serious here. There’s this thing, like a giant mush of human, a stone’s throw down the cavern. I’ve taken a couple stabs at it and got a decent read on its behavior, but a second target would shake 'em up nice.” The man explained. He got an exasperated groan in return.
“Is that no?” He asks.
“I told you my sword was yours when you need it. My word is not so weak as to bend over this.”
“Good! Good! Here,” The man gets up and extends a hand to her. “Time’s a wasting. Let’s move.”
Lucatiel silently takes it. Likewise, her companion does not speak a word as they check over their respective equipment. She takes one last look at the silver ring while redoing her wraps. It will never come off. Even if a miracle strikes that permanently rids her body of the curse, it will stay. If the man wants the ring back, it will be a fight to the death…
Every second a new thought about the ring forces its way in. And every second, she hates herself more for thinking them. There is nothing to be done though. These feelings, she confirms while setting the gauntlet into place, have been building since her first bout of forgetfulness. Lucatiel spares a glance at the man, who is currently kneeling by the fire and dipping the crystal bottle inside. Her heart aches something fierce. Admiration or guilt, she cannot decide.
“Ready?” Jovial as ever, the man walks over and slaps her back.
“As much as I can be.” Lucatiel says.
The pair walk out of the cave, side by side and prepared to run together.