Noraan shivered in spite of himself, hunched against the snows of Ariandel regardless of whether his undead flesh shuddered at its touch or not. Perhaps it was habit, a memory that still clung to this form, carried over from the days he still lived, from that fateful day he had failed to Link the Flame, and was instead devoured. It was the Ashen's place now, to serve that which they sought to master, a fitting end it was, enslavement to that which one sought to bind.
He awaited Or'do - the man seemed fond of going on lengthy journeys without him - at the mouth of a shallow cave, seated cross legged before a Bonfire whose heat soothed his ancient bones. He knew not what Or'do did in his own realm, and dared not press him; for Or'do returned withdrawn and grim, a darkness in his eyes, defeat in his posture. Whatever it was that he faced, he wished to do so alone, and none of Noraan's pleas would sway him.
At his side, glyphs of radiant gold blazed across the snow, shining like trenches of amber upon the white canvas. Calling upon the Ember's power, Noraan leaned over, and pressing a hand against the runes, beckoned his comrade once again. Like sprites clad in flowing vestments pale and silken, frost shattered and roiled out in a shrunken avalanche as Or'do rose, arms outstretched to praise the Sun, a mantle of glistening white clinging to his shoulders.
"Just couldn't bring yourself to clear the ground before you summoned me, eh?" Or'do rolled his arms in their sockets, the cascading snow revealing Havel's armour of rugged grey turned bright gold by the Sun's blessing.
"Too much work." Noraan smiled, noting that on this occasion, Or'do had returned in as bright of spirits as he had departed. Whatever travail waited in his world had not traveled with him this day. "You had a reason for demanding Ariandel, I surmise?"
"Aside from liberating a Titanite slab from Lady Freid?" Or'do shrugged. "Not really."
"So you called me all the way out here," Noraan gestured vaguely, encompassing the snowy hills with a theatric sweep of his hand. "For something so mundane as Titanite?"
"Mundane?!" Or'do dramatically pressed a hand to his chest, as if the words alone had stopped his heart. "Dear sir, slabs are no trivial thing!"
Shaking his head, Noraan muttered: "Would not it be wiser to summon me then?"
"When you'd be stumbling blindly and slowing me down? Hardly!" Or'do strode past. "Come along then!"
Sighing, Noraan fell into step behind his comrade. "This makes no sense, you realize."
"Well of course it doesn't." Or'do looked back, mischief clear in his glowing eyes.
"Then why are we here?" Tiring of his fellow's games, Noraan let frustration creep into his voice.
"Now there's a question you'll need to answer yourself."
"Is this part of 'find your life's purpose, Noraan'?"
"Maybe." Dragging out the last syllable, Or'do pressed a finger to his chin as if in - albeit over exaggerated - thought.
"Damnit, Or'do." Grinning in spite of himself, Noraan drew his Sunlight straight sword, its edge a glimmer of silver in the cloud choked light.
"Have you a reason now?" Or'do paused, turning to peer expectantly over his shoulder.
"Of course." Noraan raised the Sunlight blade, letting its honeyed planes catch the sickly shafts of light.
Anger, helplessness, fear; these were all he had known for so long. The Flame had torn him asunder, had stolen his hope and turned the fires of his heart cold. Then, Or'do had arrived, rekindling the embers of his soul. There was again hope, reason, breath in his lungs, fire in his eyes.
"To conquer the world at your side!"
"Huh." Or'do shrugged. "That will do."
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