Eygon of Carim
artwork by Danny Hirajeta, Iron Clown Studios
Dark Souls 3
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@eygxn
Eygon of Carim
artwork by Danny Hirajeta, Iron Clown Studios
Dark Souls 3
some very soft™ irina and eygon for the soul .
far be it from me to judge a conversation, but i do believe it needs more than a chorus of grunts
“I do not recall asking.”
He lowers the hammer, holding it between the two of them, its head against the ground. A guardian of stone to an empty conversation made, absolutely, of only a chorus of grunts.
“Say nothing of worth with us, or leave.”
A Catarinan Knight joins Eygon and Wilhelm. "HMMMM."
“HMMM...”
Three knights from three different places, discussing things of relevance and nodding.
scr-vilhelm:
“Hm.”
“Hrm.”
He nods, then. This is a satisfying conversation for him.
“Hm.”
ringfinger-leonhard:
Leonhard returned the grin behind his mask after giving up with the battle against the realization that he, indeed, had missed the other Carimian after a while. No one could keep your wits as sharp as having another fellow Carimian around after all.
“Me.” He bowed. In earnest, for once.
And now he was stumped.
Eygon didn’t like Leonhard at all, or that was what he would have told anyone who’d asked, no doubt with a burst of sonorous laughter -- the very thought! Yet, they’d danced their little waltz countless times by now, and he knew the steps by heart. He’d spit remarks regarding the Ringfinger’s height and blood, and he’d return the favor with mentions of what a failure of a knight he was, they’d colorfully threaten and wish each other a painful demise, et cetera et cetera. And to be frank Eygon was tired. The well was dry. The sight of Leonhard summoned neither revulsion or contempt, now; just the melancholic tug of seeing another countryman in this strange, wretched land, so far from home.
Gods damn it all. This was sickening.
“So.”
The sound of him clearing his throat echoed within the helmet, then nothing else. Before the Finger stood a giant statue of a gargoyle frozen in an impasse. What to do? What do say? He didn’t know.
Eygon remained silent.
Is it true some clerics are deliberately blinded to help empower their miracles? Is that what happened to yours?
“Irina was born blind,” he answers, tone more acerbic than he’d intended it to be. Not that he’s going to apologize for it, of course.
He takes a long, deep breath, chest rising and falling slowly.
“While I can’t say I’ve heard of clerics being blinded or blinding themselves to strengthen their miracles, I have heard of cases of people whose sight was taken away later in their life, in a way or another, for religious reasons and purposes. Thorolund’s tradition of having great faith in the words of those who cannot see bled into ours, at a certain point in history. And many would want a saint in their family.”
The knight sneers.
“Fame and bragging being the main reasons, I’m willing to bet.”
i guess i am. but mostly people actively seeing you and trying to interact.
He snorts, making himself more comfortable on the boulder he’s sitting on, knees apart and arms crossed loosely.
“Hrm. Hate it would imply that I care,” he comments then. “It’s irrelevant to me, and that’s all there is to it. If you wish for conversation, I’ll offer conversation. I have time. Not as much patience, however.”
don't you just hate it to be perceived?
“Are you asking me if I suffer from existential dread.”
ringfinger-leonhard:
“Shame.”
“You.”
Eygon smiles. It’s more like a gash across his face, a beartrap of a grin, but it’s a thing truly not so sharp to be hostile; and even if it’s invisible underneath the stone, it’s audible in his tone.
One single, polite nod at his is conceded. Oh the generosity.
goldenornstein replied to your post: “Despite the moss growing on me by now, I still...
nastea
“Despite the moss growing on me by now, I still have ears.”
“I heard someone muttering my name. Cease that, immediately.”