flameskewer

# 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖟𝖎𝖊 . selective & independent multimuse blog . mostly featuring characters from soulsbornes & soulslikes . knighted by fool, established 2018 & revamped 2026 . ©

@flameskewer said: [ DRESS ] ( sender without prompting helps receiver put on a jacket )

The heavy cloak is long and thickly layered. Sleeved, fur lined and coated throughout its interior. Specially made for someone as ill for cold as she is. Something more suitable for frigid conditions than mere cool breeze of the night. Let alone, looking highly impractical for any other activity than slow walking for its wide triangular shape, but highly practical to keep its wearer warm from elements.

She holds it up, trying to pull the masses of fabric over her delicate, hunched form. Being in hurry doesn't help, as she struggles to dress up quickly. The overwhelming amount of fabric covers her like a tent, casting her in pitch darkness while desperately searching for the gaps for her arms and head. First, one arm pushes inside a wrong sleeve, then - she looses direction.

Ah, now she will be late for sure!

Aside dressing up, she has no idea how she'll manage out from her room, down the stairs, through all the dim halls outside with her protective layers... yet that shall be a problem to deal with, after she is done dressing up.

The Fire Knight might find her defeated on her knees, completely underneath the cloak. She certainly has learnt to distinguish the way he steps, as she immediately recognizes him, giggling inside the mass of fabric.

Oh dear, if he is there to get her to hurry!

Amused, and glad to receive help. So, she allows him to help to tame the monster that is her current outdoor attire.

           Careful steps lead him within, and, before he can call out to her again, he hears faint laughter drawing his eyes to a pile of fur and fabric at the floor. The sight reminds him of the monstrous piles of bones or lava that can attack in dark places— but knowing it’s merely their guest struggling with clothing brings a chuckle from his own throat.

           Kneeling beside her, he tugs at collar and sleeves until she emerges, amusement in his eyes when he can finally say, “Ah, I’ve found thee… ”

           Her own joking pulls another grin from him. The mass of the coat itself is humorous enough, but he’s learned not to question her sensitivity to cold. The playfulness must be short-lived however–  

@fireknightqueelign / @flameskewer asked: 👂

It surprised her, to hear one speak of the Crusade so righteously who wore no clergy robe. Neither priest, crone, nor prophet, but a knight wrapped in unyielding faith. She thought of the last missive she’d sent her abyssal son, and how he wrote to her in earnest and with the same vigor the man before her spoke. She’d not replied to the scroll.

      If her crisis was to manifest as she slept, she would then test it with the same dogged ferocity it hounded her with while awake. She studied the bowed man, wondered if she’d glimpsed his face in the crowds of onlookers, or was he a son of a lord in her court? Marika strode past him, testing if he was no longer in her sight, would he fade. Would this realm of dreams conjure another person?

      She approached the towering visage, face blank of expression. Strange, such a statue was cast in such detail. As if every inch of it had been committed to memory. Maika turned. The knight remained. 

           Wide and wondrous eyes remarked every visible detail of fabric, hair and skin though the knight maintained a respectful distance. His stare softened when she turned back to him. 

        “ Not at all,” he swore. “I am only the more devout! I see it weigheth on the hearts of fellows, but… I know we do right! ” 

           In waking logic he’d have asked if she sought Messmer, how she’d arrived, if it was time to return home— Caught fully in the dream, he questioned neither her miraculous reappearance nor its significance. Other concerns spilled from his lips instead.