Into the Dark

[Roger Smith]

He staggered back into the barn, to one wall, and leaned against it with a heavy thunk of impact with the wood. Tired. He was still...so...so tired.... Even despite his sleep, his body still ached and pained him, his mind still slogged through a murky haze of confusion and extreme tiredness. He managed to limp back to his blade, still stuck into the ground, grasping it with one hand as he slowly slid down the wall, landing in more of a heap than sitting properly.

The mention of food, as the newcomer made his way into the barn earned a reaction from the knight, his head slowly turning as he made an effort of will to roll his body over, into a proper sitting posture. Food... It didn't register as it might have. He knew what it was, at least in some sense. It was what people ate to essentially fuel themselves and keep their bodies running. But there was something else that flickered in his mind. The Undead did not eat any longer.

They just...did not require food. Only the infrequent consumption of Estus, and more frequent rest at a Bonfire, to help maintain their Humanity. They could exist without even those, but they risked greatly accelerating their inevitable Hollowing, as they began to wear out, growing more physically and mentally exhausted, and simply coming unwound.

To such an end, Artorias let out a long, dry breath, his body suddenly recalling that it had been....years, at least, since even his last sip of Estus, and at least as long since his last proper rest near a well-maintained, properly-kept Bonfire. Partially free of the Abyss now as he was, no longer dominated by the suffocating will of Manus, no longer driven to madness and constantly ready to fight, seeking out things to crush, a perpetual high of adrenaline and magically-abusive fuel to keep him running....he just felt drained.

He suddenly longed to simply lay down before a Bonfire and rest, with precious Estus to restore his strength. But it was beyond him. He knew the proper rites to create a rudimentary Bonfire, and to collect Estus from its flickering flames, he had not the resources to do so.

He let out a sigh, willing his voice to work again. "I do not...require food." But he made an inclination of his head at the mention of breaking bread. The notion of its meaning still meant something to him, even if he could no longer actually take part in the act itself.