Kayden slumps against Broms' back, tucking her face against the crook of his neck. One hand wraps around his waist (partially) and resting her other hand on top of his, she let's out a very quiet and muffled sigh. There's some tangle of emotions in it, most she's trying to ignore. Hooking one leg around his hip to rest it on top of his, she presses as close against him as she possibly can, silently seeking his warmth.
@a-bottomless-curse // chance encounters on a journey without rest.
For little over a week now they've been scouring the lower levels of the seemingly endless labyrinth that winded and wove its way ever deeper beneath Yharnam, pursuing all manner of secrets and strength while culling the beasts and similar abominations that stalked the ancient tunnels. Their journey had been fraught with peril since its start, not solely from the predators that had claimed these forgotten places for their hunting grounds but from the litany of traps left behind by the architects for any would-be graverobbers, and many times they'd been forced to retreat so as to gather their bearings and plan their next steps.
From within one of the treasure rooms the two of them had secured, the ornate door lowered once more to keep out any hungry beasts or patrolling denizens of the dungeon, Brom rested against an emptied chest with a heavy sigh. His tattered eyes reflected the light of the flickering little flame they had built from scraps of wood they'd scrounged from the chamber and a spare torch, the warmth it provided doing little to chase the chill that seemed to linger in these dank chambers.
How many devout sons and daughters had been lost down here in the dark, he wondered grimly, never to see the light of day again? As renowned and skilled in the slaying of beasts as they were, even the Holy Blades had refrained from regularly delving into the depths of these dungeons unless requested, for there were things that dwelled down here in the dark that dwarfed even the most hideous monsters they had faced in the blood-stained streets. He couldn't help but wonder if his fate wouldn't be the same as his mother's, or his now fallen brethren, butchered or turned mad or worst in search of a Truth he couldn't even begin to fathom...
A truth that had already touched Kayden, if the scars upon her sight that left her gaze reminiscent of broken glass and the language beyond human understand that crept from her throat were proof of anything.
As if summoned by the turn his thoughts have taken, she takes it upon herself to try and siphon his warmth with her terribly cold extremities. He shifts with a grunt at the press of her nose against his neck and the feeling of her frigid fingers over his own, clawed hand careful not to cut or catch as he flips his hand palm up to intertwine their fingers. With another shift he reaches around her smaller frame and pulls her closer, holding her against his broad, armored chest and tucking his knees against her waist. It leaves her more or less settled in his lap, the heat his beastly body produced seeping into her even through the layers of cloth and metal.
"You're cold," Brom murmurs mildly, obviously. He rests his head against her own lightly, bumping it against hers with a quiet rumble of amusement. "I remember when you used to stick your hands against my neck come winter time when we were children. Used to chase me around with those blocks of ice until I gave in and warmed your hands in mine." He squeezes their conjoined hands lightly, fondly, before pulling away just long enough to reach back and grab the length of his holy veil to wrap around her shoulders, returning to take her hand once he's certain its covering her.
"Try and sleep, Kayden. We'll continue in the morning." If his heart beats just a bit quicker at the warmth of her breath against his neck or the feeling of her shape against him even through her hunter's leathers, he pays it no mind. "I'll keep watch. I won't let anything harm you, my friend."
