#slaughtership

askmaneatermildred

The water was cool.

It’d had been awhile since she’d let her feet drift through water that wasn’t blighted sludge, although she wasn’t uncomfortable with the reality of Blighttown; it was just that this was an entirely different feeling.

Mildred could feel the curious fish swimming buy after they’d realized she wasn’t going to seize them out of the water and eat them raw; the idea had crossed her mind, of course, but that wasn’t really the best way to make a good impression, even on someone who’d gone and killed you. That much - she remembered.

She’d taken time to get over the pain of having actually lost a hunt, or more accurately, being surprised by the skill of the lance-wielding man with the very… Emphatic laugh, but her sisters were fed and well - silent, for now. That brought with it a kind of freedom, and Mildred bore no grudges in this new world they lived in - though his had clearly been… Different.

Finding that place - Majula, was it? - Had seemed an impossible task, and none of the people she captured seemed to have a clue where it was. She’d grown frustrated and finally all but given up on crossing paths at all - but then…

Here, where the water was warm and the sun seemed welcoming - even if it was quiet, and she could only just hear the faint sounds of conversation around her - here, where it seemed like people without any set path were destined to cross theirs… Here was where she found herself, wondering if she might run into him again.

Placing a hand under her sack and feeling her face, Mildred grit her teeth. This was stupid - she was stupid. There was no way that guy would recall someone like her favourably, or see this as anything but an excuse to get revenge. Maybe it was, too - maybe she was fooling herself. But - even still - Mildred waited, enjoying the feel of clean water against her legs, and the passing of time.

She’d even brought drinks, of a sort.

To say that Maldron despised the woman was as wrong as to say that he was a mole that slept underground. He had enjoyed her sense of individuality- her unique nature. Mildred, her name was. As the wandering warrior approached the gates of Majula, his slitted helm scanned the horizon, simply looking out for any enemies of his currently making residence there. It was as he always did, making sure no trouble would befall him as he entered the fishing village.

When his gaze fell upon the burlap sack upon the head of a silhouette, Maldron felt something stop in his chest for a second. Memories of the snow-covered hunt returned to him, and a sadistic grin befell him. Oh, good times waited ahead. His footsteps were quiet as he approached her, a quick tap on the shoulder alerting her to his presence.

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you of all people here, my dear! How have you been?” His armored leggings quickly came off, and bare feet were placed in the water next to hers, and a soft chuckle came from inside the man’s helm. In a bare shirt and simple leather pants, which were quickly rolled back up, he simply kicked back and relaxed.

How long had it been since he was able to be as simple and divine in his sadistic tendencies- far too long since he’d been able to just be himself, in all the chaotic desire, with a kindred spirit, and not be beckoning for her head, or feel truly endangered.

For once, he felt free to embrace himself. With Cailyn and Ciaran, he was always cautious, apprehensive, not to let too much desire seep out, for fear of his rejection and abandonment... but there was no such paranoia here.