#cursedandcarried

“Steady your blade, Lorian. I am not here to drag you to your ashen thrones as much as your father and mother may have wanted me to do so. Just… come here, rest your heads, you deserve that much.”

When he embraces his nephews, he smells the dust of feathers and the acrid scorch of Lothric’s magic. It is difficult realizing how much time has passed since the boys were small enough to be lifted onto his shoulders, especially now, with the castle crumbling into ruins and the light slowly fading from the skies. His nephews are so tense. They are still so young and yet they are poised to fight as if they will be battling for another millennia. And yet they are also exhausted. It has been a very long time since he has experienced such exhaustion weighing down on his shoulders.

“No… not quite.” Lothric seems unconcerned, his arms crossed across his folded knees, though he has teleported himself a good extra meter away. “Not dead. Undead, Hollowed… They exist still, even in these well-lit times. But you see,” he extends one spindly hand demonstrably, “Eventually they give up even on undeath, and there is nothing left to do but attack anything that moves, or lie on the ground and hope to eventually disintegrate. It’s a terribly sad fate, and little to be done about it. That’s why we employ them as soldiers. It gives them a sense of purpose.” And to that sort of thing, you really couldn’t say no.

After his last words, she took a few steps back - just in case - and took a longer stick.

“Then suffice it to say I self-evidently turn down suitors when necessary.”  

Lothric frowns, and his breeziness dissipates.  “Also... Lorian...wishes for me to relate that courtship has been a hard road for him, and if you’ve spoken of your own experiences he sympathizes,” he continues, more sincerely.

“Sure, not anything at all,” Gwyn muttered. Without using her eyes she could feel the gazes on them, like daggers slowly pushed against her skin. Still she kept her gaze steady on the chicken.

Niamh listened to his words, resisting the urge to try and soothe any worries with false hopes.  For a few moments afterwards, there was silence, before she took a deep breath.  “If something did happen to Lorian, I would be here for you. I know it isn’t the same, and that you probably wouldn’t want it to be that way, but...”

((closed starter with @cursedandcarried))

Lothric Castle was majestic, he admits. Towering parapets manned by soldiers that patrolled the area with vigil worthy of matching the golems of Eleum Loyce: then again, what is beautiful often concealed a much more rotten core underneath. Nashandra was one of those primary examples, a wench beyond measure and a corrupted being that he was more than a little happy to put down to be frank. 

And if what he heard about the royal family’s obsession with the fire linking curse that plagued the land for who knows how long, it just serves to prove it more. 

Leeroy slung his great hammer over his shoulder, the comfort of Alastaor’s weight somewhat assuring. He had seen kings fall, brought down demons and men alike with his might: he was still a man was he not? A simple undead that had just gotten a little too lucky in those recent centuries save for... that one time.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, the paladin knight stopped in his path, rising his gaze to the double doors of Lothric Castle. 

        “It’s nice to meet you, prince.”  Not true. Ignes did not like other children, did not want to meet them, did not want to play with them - in the palace by the sea, she was happiest among the reefs, among her dolls, her paintbrushes and her books. Even her father’s followers, lowly worshippers who turned to her as well at times, were an awful bother. Still, to make him happy, she’d tolerate this, dressed in a dark blue dress with white pearls seaming her neckline.

      “I am Ignes.” Her other names and titles? They mattered so little, she would not even bring them up when introducing herself to others. Spoiled little princess indeed, though many said she was quite like the seas she might inherit one day - a capricious, moody force of nature. For now, however, she merely seemed like a reasonably nice girl who did not want to be here.