Recommended Listening: Growing Up Londinium - Daniel Pemberton
A little FenHawke Dark Souls AU something something for @justbooker
Step and another, foot striking stone, a tile shakes loose and shatters on the street below. She runs the line of the roof, from one building to the other, pounding in her chest and an ache in her bones. Breath burning in lungs, sweat on her back and on her brow, sword heavy in her hand. Shield in the other, leather around metal, hand clenched into fist. The fog seeps into the street where he runs under the eerie glow of moonlight. He can see a few steps ahead. She sees the shapes in the distance.
He hears them before he sees them, the rattling inhale and the movement of bones that should not be. The shriek, the cry, the ashes and the embers. She lands heavy in front of him, shield planted down, catching the bolts that fly in his direction. He pushes sore muscles even harder, sweeping out from behind her with his axe, taking both their heads. These shambling corpses stand no match for them. They look at each other, nod, and on they go.
They fight through the narrow corridors of the castle side by side. Her sword bites out from behind her shield. He guards her back. They move systematically from floor to floor, lighting the torches to show the path from whence they came. Up the stairs – she bashes a corpse in the skull and watches as it goes tumbling to the floor far below. He sweeps the axe upwards, catches one in the belly. Block, strike. He moves, she reacts.
At the top she plants her sword in the space between stones. Hands on knees, taking a moment to catch breath, calm shaking knees. Hand on her back, closing his eyes and tilting his face upwards. Swallowing with difficulty, parched but not finished. Onwards they go.
It waits for them at the very top, lounging upon his throne. The flat surface of the roof with the moon behind him, full and bright. The clouds are no match for its glory, cannot hide its light. Spreading arms to welcome these two guests, before he takes up his spear. She dashes one way, he goes the other. Taking its attention onto her, she beats her sword against shield. Metal clanging that has it swinging towards her, its mouth opening and breathing out frost. He dashes forward, slices his axe at the back of its knee. Rage as it swings, nimble as he dashes backwards.
Her turn to strike as she hacks at the giants arm, trying to loose the spear from its grip. Mouth opening once again and she raises her shield. Feeling the utter cold on her arm, gritting her teeth as she hunkers down behind the shield. He strikes again and again, slash and slice, blackened blood staining stone, slick down the haft. He riddles the giant with gory lash after lash. Together they work at its attention, from one to the other, taking every opportunity to strike.
She rolls underneath the sweep of its spear. He dashes forward in the opening. Axe buries in belly and the giant screams at the heavens. Falters and falls, spear clattering away, guts spilling downwards. He keeps it pinned while she moves forward, ends the beast with her sword at its neck. It breathes its last, curling and contracting into itself. A ruined husk, a shell of what once. She lets the shield fall from her grasp, the sword following suit.
She breathes deeply as she pulls the helm from her head, shakes out her hair. He doesn’t hesitate in following her example. Smiling as he closes the distance between them, the barest touch of gauntlet against her cheek as he bends down to kiss her. They both look up at the roar, feel the ground tremble beneath their feet. The dragon rakes the tower with its claws, before beating its wings and circling above them. Hair swirls about her face as he bends down to pick up her shield and sword. Handing them to her, taking up his axe.
Onwards they go.