Cinders Of Remnant (Male Reader)

CH44. Ye Of Such Dying Faith,

Patches' POV:

After that oh so pleasant meeting about how our would is ending, I retreated up to my little corner up the stairs of Firelink. There was no particular reason I liked this corner, but it was mine.

I sat down and rested my back against the wall. I was rusty. Fighting Gundyr with Siegeward and Anri had taken a toll on me. That isn't a surprise though, my form is sloppy. Those damn rocks aren't doing me any good. I wager I have a good few months before the hallowing sets in, might as well use it to help that sorry bastard Y/n.

Y/n... Those were indeed better days, old friend. Pillaging those hollier than thou arseholes in the cathedral. Damn Christians. Why did you take pity on me anyway? It's the same each time, only a different me. Surely you learned after a damn spider tossed you into sludge, right?

Though, I guess you don't remember. It's been hard to keep track myself, travelling world's like this. But it's the same each time. Be an asshole, you show up, I screw you over, you survive and pity me, I become a merchant, try to kill you again, you save me again, and then I give up.

You do remember, right? But then why do you always act as if you don't? Do you truly not remember all the time we've spent together? It must be at least two decades now since we've met.

I sighed and lowered my head down. The slight breeze of air that runs throughout the shrine kept the dust on the bricks barely moving. Almost as if those little specs of ash and dust were at a little, microscopic war.

Fuck, I need a damn drink.

As if those pathetic gods themselves were listening, a cold Caterinian brew slid across the ground right to my legs. I look up and saw the Onion knight himself, Siegeward of Caterina.

Siegeward: I could smell your moping from the smithy.

Patches: If I climbed two flights of stairs just to mope in peace, don't you think your old arse should stay there with your damn daughter?

Siegeward: Speak ill of Anri again and I'll have your tongue. Also, I don't think you realize how many times I've seen this.

Patches: Seen what?

Siegeward: You're almost off the edge. Don't give me that hallowing bullshit, I know the difference between zombie memory loss and depression.

Patches: So fucking what? I don't see why my problems have anything to do with you, Vegetable Knight.

Siegeward: We're going to be fighting in a war together and you're sitting here like a toddler waiting for daddy to pick him up from daycare.

Patches: Do you want to help me or insult me?

Siegeward: Help.

Patches: Why?

Siegeward: I just said why, we're comrades in arms now, Patches. No matter how much you deny it, our paths have been intertwined in a way no armor mugging can get in the way of. So how about this, we start over and call this a team building exercise?

I stifled a laugh and took a swig of the cold brew at my feet. The flavor was amazing. Caterina had a reputation for good drinks, but I didn't think that they could make this shit in the fly. In seconds I was downing the glorious drink, not caring about the buzz my non existent stomach was getting. Siegeward let out a hearty laugh and set down another cup.

Siegeward: You left before supper, drink your full. I can go get some food if you like. I make a killer Estus Soup.

Patches: You can hand me a pile of dragon testicles and I'll eat them if you tell me that you're the chef.