#throughfireandflame

send these

    "Many circumstances in my life had to have happened precisely the way they did for me to be where I am now. An English soldier catching a small boy running from a burning village. A shipwright taking pity on a feral pickpocket. That wild urchin growing up to be a pirate who opened a door he shouldn't have.

    "A ninja, observing the travel patterns of a slave trader, spying a new vessel on the horizon.

    "Hanzo Hattori remains one of the best men I've ever known even after all these years. Without his guidance, I would have been lost beyond hope.

♡    𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗧𝗬   𝗙𝗢𝗥   𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛-𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗘-𝗔𝗡𝗗-𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗠𝗘    ♡

Miquella had been wandering for a few nights before he decided to stop upon seeing the light from the fire. Dressed in a cloak of pure white with a hood that covered most of his golden hair he had sat beside the other with barely a word spoken. But his new acquaintance was deeply focused upon the night sky and he could not help but look upward himself.

He had seen many a night sky, been enraptured by the very existence of something beyond the tangible world. That his brother once held the power of the stars back was almost inconceivable. That they could even be halted at all was a thought he questioned a few times. But no matter the situation or circumstance it was a sight that truly continued to awe him.

(From here with @through-fire-and-flame)

“Doesn’t look like nothin’,” mutters Laurentius. The rain outside seems to have covered their retreat; he sits with one hand on her shoulder and the other clutching his axe as they crouch in the alcove, and waits for the hollow soldiers to pass.

As they round the corner just beyond the alcove’s entrance, Laurentius turns back to his new companion.

“Right, you’ve got a choice, friend,” he says, watching the blood stain her shirt - the wound looks like it’s along her side. “You can try to treat that yourself, or you can let me close it.”

He grimaces, and glances back at the alcove’s entrance.

“You’re not going to like that second option, I fear.”

---- Her head rested against the stonework behind her, eyes drifted up towards the roof, watching as droplets of rain condenses and drips downwards. She’d managed to lose her automaton somewhere out there, and that would have been bad enough; but she was already feeling the side of her body going numb and cold. She needed to keep the blood on the inside, lest she find herself at the bonfire again. Another piece of her soul, consumed by those flames. A damnable consequence for those who spent their unlife too liberally.

But there was a new companion, who her eyes flicked towards. His hand was on her shoulder? Ah, there was a weight, if she focused on it enough. His words rung true, and she grit her teeth.

She should be better than this, dammit! She shouldn’t need another’s help, but- it was fruitless to lament it now. She would have to learn from the situation and become better in the future.

---- “Your garb marks you as a denizen of the Great Swamp. I dare not ask if you are a pyromancer, then?” The next words come out with a hint of disgust -- but it is merely her swallowing her pride. “You may tend to my wound as you see fit. I can cast a miracle once I can focus, but I’m ashamed to say that my ribs are -- burning right now...”

Which, seems a little odd as she’s dressed far more like a sorcerer than any cleric. But, knowing the likes of Patches, perhaps that’s meant to throw such religiously declined off-guard?

The ailing man listened quietly to Laurentius’ tale, visions of hunters, beasts, blood and fire passing through his mind... Being an outsider, Gilbert couldn’t say that he was entirely savvy on the history of Yharnam, but there were things that he did pick up on. 

There was a furrow to his brows as he caught the bitterness in the Hunter’s voice... It was hard to believe that Laurentius had bore witness to the tragedy that befell Old Yharnam. And Gilbert would not deny feeling a slight sense of shame that he knew not how to respond. Had it not been for the window that separated them, he would have given the Powder Keg Hunter a comforting pat on the shoulder.

Although she was familiar with treating injuries related to her own work, Anima still felt a twinge of nervousness at the sight of him attempting to patch the wound on his person. Pushing the uneasy roil of her stomach back, she approached him slowly.

But it became very clear very quickly that the man knew next to nothing about the ocean proper; having lived near a swamp all of his life, he thought he might be prepared for all sorts of strange beasties and creatures, but nothing prepared him for the things that occasionally washed up on shore, nor the many luminous types of plants Niamh seemed to acquire on a whim.

Right now, for instance, as the poor selkie is trying to cook a meal, Laurentius keeps hovering around the kettle, trying to glean what's happening to the seaweed - oddly glowing, slowly losing its light and puffing up a bit as it cooks - while it's wilting.

"Wot is this stuff?" he asks, for the sixth time today.

Having Laurentius around has been...nice. Niamh is used to patients only staying for an hour or two, maybe a day if they need more tending to. It's been a long while since she's truly shared her space with anyone. Living alone, she's become a creature of habit. Wake up early, even if she isn't a morning person. Tend to the chickens and the garden. Make tinctures and balms and such.

Now, though, she's added a few more things to her days. Having breakfast with Laurentius. Settling by the hearth in the evening to talk or read together. He helps with chores and the goat is awfully fond of him.

It's nice, having someone around. It's less lonely.