Into the Dark

[Roger Smith]

The enthusiasm of the child was a sharp contrast to what he had experienced thus far. And it put his mind ever so slightly more at ease. He was correct, of course. Even lost, and confused, and stranded in Gwyn knows where, a positive outlook and a little effort could still do wonders. Of course, that only barely registered beyond the fact that: "....yes....have to try..."

The mention of family sent a sharp pain through him that he couldn't place. The word meant something to him, but he couldn't recall what... He knew, vaguely, that the curse of the Undead could destroy a person's memories if they weren't careful, but he had always been careful. Always. But, there was something else that was messing with his mind, then. And that was not a comforting thought to ponder over.

The concept of rest made Artorias visibly sag against his blade, taking hold of the handle with both hands to remain standing upright, and he let out a simple hiss of agreement. For a handful of seconds, he remained standing there, sagging against his blade, before the scraps of his pride and what strength he had left came together and he forced himself upright, rising to stand as straight as he could.

Exhausted, wounded, lost and mentally unsteady as he was, he was a warrior and a Knight of the Lord of Sunlight. He wouldn't let himself falter and stagger around if he could help it.

Though he still leaned against his blade more heavily than he would have liked to remain standing. Pride was one thing, but he was exhausted and more than willing to just collapse and get what rest he could right where he was. But in the back of his mind, he somehow knew that would likely be a bad idea.

So instead, he turned his eyes to the distance, searching for anything that looked promising. And soon enough he found it, in the form of a clear path, leading to what he hoped was an inhabited village.

And with a grunt and nod of his head to point it out to the child, he started to slowly, but surely, limp toward it.