There was a well near the bonfire, but it was dry. Considering that there was also a body hanging over the edge Oscar wouldn't have wanted to drink from it anyway.

Undead poked the body curiously and a white-edged black sprite melted out through its ribcage to flicker in the air. They carefully scooped it into a bag.

"Humanity," said Oscar. They nodded.

Oscar rolled the body to the cliff and kicked it off.

There was a path up the cliff ahead, but it was guarded by hollows, so they turned aside to explore the final section of the ruins. As they reached the doorway, Oscar saw with a start that they were not alone. A sturdy-looking man in cleric's armor was standing near the left wall with his arms crossed. As they came towards him he started and reached for his mace. Oscar raised his hands nonthreateningly and the cleric relaxed.

"Oh—hello! I believe we are not acquainted. Are you a knight of Astora?"

"I am! My name is Oscar. It is good to meet another man in his right mind. Who are you?"

"Well met, good Sir. I am Petrus of Thorolund. If you don't mind, may I request that your servant keep their distance?"

"Hm?" Oscar looked at Undead. "Oh! No, this is my travelling companion. They saved my life, actually. And if you object to their appearance, I don't see why. They're less likely to go hollow than I am."

"Oh, dear me, I should have realized. But I meant no ill will by it. In such a corrupted land as this, we must do what we can to keep ourselves pure, must we not?" He turned from Oscar to Undead, and for the first time addressed them directly. "Here, take this. As a token of peace."

He briefly came close enough to press something small into their hand, then retreated to a safe distance. Oscar looked over and saw a small, shiny penny lying in the palm of their gloved hand. They smiled, rubbed it and put it away carefully, but Oscar was offended on their behalf. Evidently the man was allergic to apologizing, and considered a copper coin of equal worth to a more formal apology. Then again, coins of any sort were rare in Lordran, and had sentimental significance as symbols of the outside world where such things still had worth. It would be an ungracious gesture outside of Lordran, but perhaps he meant well by it.

Before Oscar could decide if he should be offended on Undead's behalf or not, Petrus continued.

"How about this. I have to await my companions here anyway, how would you two like it if I were to teach you some miracles?"

Oscar blinked.

"Miracles can be taught?"

"Oh, well, yes. Certain methods of calling upon the Gods in their power have been proven to work, and can be used reliably, if one has enough Faith. Are you a pilgrim on the Way of White?"

"I am." So they did share the same religion, though Oscar had never seen a cleric so easy with their miracles. Astora viewed them as precious secrets that should be safeguarded, never used haphazardly. But he was far from home and if someone offered to teach him how to invoke healing on himself, hee wouldn't turn it down.

Undead didn't seem interested, and scouted around the area while he spoke with Petrus. He wasn't sure what to make of the man. He was... cagey. He behaved in an open, friendly manner, but didn't offer much information about himself. Well, Oscar would certainly trust him over a Hollow. Or probably the grouch back at the bonfire.

...Thinking about it more, actually, he wasn't sure which one he'd be less likely to trust. He barely knew either of them.

The lesson was cut short when he heard Undead calling him from somewhere further inside the ruins. He followed the sound into a square room with two empty shafts which had probably once serviced a lift, and some stairs. Had they gone further up maybe?

"Undead?"

"Hey!"

He jumped. The sound, still slightly muffled, was coming from down one of the shafts. He ran to it.

"Did you fall down there?"

"Nope! Jumped!"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah! Come see!"

He cautiously lowered himself and dropped down the dark shaft, landing with a grunt on solid ground. From here he could see that there was a narrow passageway in the rock, leading out to a grassy open space. He cautiously felt his way out and found Undead grinning at him over a pile of... stuff. There were several weather-worn chests lying around, flung open. They looked older than their friends out at the shrine were likely to be, so Oscar disregarded his first concern, that they were raiding someone's private stash.

"Oh, what did you find?"

It turned out to be a morningstar, several bits of bone wrapped up in rag, a tattered talisman, some nasty-looking occult red gems, and a collection of Undead-hunting talismans. Oscar picked up one of the latter and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Hm."

"What?"

"Lloyd's Talismans. They prevent Undead from healing, within a short range. I've seen a few, but it's usually only the Cleric Knights who have them." He put down the talisman. "I always did feel they were... barbaric." Unfair. Of course, the Cleric Knights would say that the ability to heal injuries instantaneously was unfair, and they were only leveling the playing field. Which would make sense if the Undead they so often found themselves fighting weren't scared townspeople with little to no combat knowledge. "I suppose they might be useful."

"What're these?" the Undead held out one of the bones, and he held it in his hand, sliding his visor up to see it better. No, just a simple fragment of bone, dry and fragile. It looked like it might crumble into dust if handled roughly. Why was it so fragile?... there was a faint aura of magic around it, he thought, but he couldn't tell what or why.

"No idea. I think it's magic? I'm not skilled in that area."

Undead nodded, then fished a round object out of a hip pouch and shook it inquisitively. Something liquid sloshed inside. Oscar grabbed their arm and stopped it with an exclamation.

"Firebomb! Firebomb. Don't throw that around here. You can throw it at enemies and engulf them in flame."

Undead withdrew the firebomb and looked at it appreciatively.

They divided the rest of the items between them; both had some room in their belt pouches and Undead carried the morningstar over their shoulder as they leapt down onto the lower pathway they'd seen earlier, at the edge of the graveyard. Almost immediately a dry clicking sound came from the ground further below, and turning, Oscar saw the bones that had lain scattered across the ground drawing themselves together and assembling into two full skeletons. He stopped breathing for a moment, then swung his shield around, thinking grimly that it would take a bit more than animated skeletons to truly startle him. He'd jumped into a dragon's mouth, once upon a time. It wasn't an experience he'd like to repeat, but he'd lived. And he'd seen a few things.

"Careful," he said to Undead. "Use the morningstar, maybe it's heavy enough to break them apart." A firebomb zipped past him and burst, engulfing the closest skeleton in flame. "Or you could do that." Another firebomb zipped past and he heard them give a maniacal cackle. It looked like he had a pyromaniac on his hands. Well, not like he could blame them. It was a special kind of satisfying to incinerate your enemies into useless cinders. "Alright, hold up, they're close!" He ran forward and shield-bashed the closest skeleton before it could go through with its swing. Both skeletons held scimitars, which looked to be in fairly good shape, but they swung them clumsily, taking several seconds to wind up for a spinning move and telegraphing their intent far in advance. Still. React a little too slowly, and he didn't like to think about taking one of those acrobatic downswipes to the face.

He hacked away at the skeleton, keeping his shield between them, and heard a sharp crack, then the skeleton slowly disassembled and fell to the ground. He waited to see if it would reassemble, but it didn't look like it. The skull rolled off, bounced off a few headstones and sailed over the cliff and into the sunsets. A few paces behind him, Undead had knocked the second skeleton apart and was watching it come back together. As it raised its sword they knocked it down again, and this time it lay still.

"Good job."

They smiled.

"How come it was easier for you?" they asked him as they started up the stairs to the bonfire. Oscar drew his sword and held it in his hands, seeing his helmet and a strip of sky reflected in the polished surface.

"It carries a powerful blessing, and strikes hard against all the Undead."

He took a moment to admire the fine craftmanship and the ornamental curve of the hilt.

"It was a gift, made by one of the finest smiths in Astora. Perfectly balanced." He removed his left hand from under the blade and let it float from his right palm. Undead ducked down to look at the blade from the side.

"Oh wow."

"Do you want to hold it?"

They stretched out their hands and took it carefully. Their face changed; they held it as if it were unexpectedly heavy, hefted it a moment then handed it back to him.

"How do you find it?"

"I'm... not sure."

"It takes great Faith to wield such a weapon effectively."

"Ah. Well that... explains a bit. But I'm glad you have such a weapon."

Oscar sheathed his sword.

"What about your sword? Have you carried it with you, or did you find it at the Asylum?"

Undead drew their scimitar and looked at it, then handed it to him. It was tip-heavy, with a thick, curved blade, for slashing. Lent itself well to the circular motions he'd seen the skeletons struggling to replicate, he thought.

"I found it. But it reminds me of something. Feels... familiar. I had such a sword once."

"Good." Oscar took a few steps back and gave an experimental slash, then spun the sword around in his hand. "Not what I'm used to, but a fine weapon by its own merits." He returned it, smiling. "I'm glad you have such a weapon." Undead grinned. "Shall we head back to the fire?"

It was getting late, and the feeble light was fading from beyond the clouds. A chill breeze was blowing, and Oscar sat close to the fire.

It was strange, it didn't consume fuel, but the flames danced above a pile of ash and bones. He wondered whose bones they were, and how the fires were kindled.

Its presence was comforting. Perhaps it was because of the brand on his body, but something about it felt like home. A little space of warm and comfort in the growing dark.

There was a faint jingling sound, and the Crestfallen Warrior slumped down on the opposite side of the fire. He seemed to agree. Oscar looked elsewhere.

Beside him, Undead took out the scrap of Humanity they'd found and looked at it.

"Do you want to use it?" asked Oscar. "I know there's a way to restore your appearance using the bonfire, though I'm not quite sure how."

"Consume the humanity, then offer it to the flame in exchange for a brief reversal of the curse," murmured the Crestfallen Warrior without looking at them.

"Oh. Thank you." said Oscar. The Warrior grunted.

Undead looked at the small dark thing—it looked like a rip in space, a detached shadow floating their hand—and then shook their head and put it away.

"Are you sure?" asked Oscar.

"No. Save it."

"You'll be alright?"

They nodded.

Oscar didn't see the logic in this but decided not to pressure them. They were certainly stronger than he was, the fight with the demon had proved that. Maybe they would be alright as they were, for a while longer. But it couldn't be comfortable. He'd never experienced it himself, but he'd heard that as the curse grew, twisting one's flesh, it became harder to think; the cursed became more animalistic, acting through instinct, often as if a sleepwalker, doing things they would never have considered when in their right minds. This was the path to finally going Hollow. But Undead seemed to have adapted to living with the curse and was able to resist some of its effects. It intrigued him.

He looked up at the sound of movement. Petrus approached the fire, then stopped, glaring at the Crestfallen Warrior, who scratched his nose and stretched, unperturbed.

"Oh, you're here."

"Yep," said the Warrior.

"Go away. You were here yesterday."

"I live here."

"Is there a problem?" said Oscar. "We can move over.." there was plenty of room at the bonfire. Petrus shook his head.

"No, no. Don't worry yourselves."

"He just doesn't like me," said the Crestfallen Warrior, patting Petrus' foot. Petrus removed it, taking a step backwards.

"You are the most unpleasant man I've ever met." The Warrior shrugged. "And utterly without remorse." The Warrior sighed.

"I think you're just a common hypocrite. But, who knows, maybe not. To be quite honest, I could care less. I don't have the energy for—"

"Oh, now, really! You have no respect for anyone or anything!"

"Here we goooo."

"—Prejudice against the Way of White, that's all; purely because you're allergic to law and order,"

The Crestfallen Warrior turned to Oscar and talked over Petrus.

"I suppose you too are a pilgrim on the lofty Way of Waffles?"

"The... Way of White?" said Oscar.

"The Way of Whales?"

"The W—" Oscar stopped himself. "Haha, very funny. Yes."

"Of course you are. Well I'm sorry."

He stood up with a grunt and set off slowly towards one of the arches.

"Where are you going?" said Petrus suspiciously.

"Oh, nowhere," said the Warrior. "Just going to go piss in the pool."

"DO NOT piss in the sacred pool of Fina!"

"I'm going to go piss in the sacred pool of Fina. Adieu my friends, I shall return."

There was a distant tinkling noise. Petrus stomped off, muttering to himself. Oscar and Undead looked at each other in confusion.

"Does this make sense to you?" said Undead. Oscar shook his head. "Good. I don't get it either."

"Yeah, no, this is just weird."

There was a sudden loud splash, followed by the sound of Petrus laughing and a single monotone "Fuck." Petrus reappeared, still laughing, and flopped down beside the bonfire. Crestfallen Warrior appeared a few moments later, dripping wet, hair slicked down over his forehead. "That was low," he said, then retreated to his bench and sat there shivering in a bored sort of manner.

"Are you alright?" said Oscar. He chuckled.

"Oh yes perfectly fine. Not like freezing to death will do much to me. Or maybe it will, who knows. If this is the way I hollow then I was not displeased to meet you."

Well that was... not unfriendly. "...Just come down to the fire."

"Hmm, no, I'm fine."

"He's fine," said Petrus, beginning the tedious task of removing his armor. Oscar decided to do the same. Whatever bizarre feud these two had, he didn't think they were a threat to him directly. But it seemed to him a special kind of stupid to carry on a petty rivalry with your only companion in such a place.

Undead sat cross-legged, staring into the fire, while he curled up on the ground, trying to find a place close enough to the fire to stay warm but not be burned. It had been a long day and the exhaustion was starting to catch up to him.

"Don't you sleep?" he asked Undead, who was still staring into the fire. They shook their head.

Hollows didn't sleep. They'd probably stopped feeling the need while in the Asylum, spending days on end in a kind of trance... it was amazing they hadn't hollowed. They were incredibly strong.

"Alright, well, I do. I'll see you in the morning." They nodded to him and he wrapped his arms around himself and tried to sleep.

He'd had a blanket, but he left it, along with all his other supplies, with his horse. It was far far behind them, at one of the guard posts of the Asylum. The cold wind seeped steadily through the back of his arming jacket. He curled tighter into a ball.

He sank into a kind of half-consciousness, some part of him still aware that he was very cold and that his back ached in the wind and preoccupied with keeping close to the fire. Somewhere there was movement.

"Cold?" said Undead. He grunted. Then he felt something less cold than the air interpose itself between him and the draft from the cliff. Undead wrapped their arms around him and he hugged them to him.

"Oh. Thank you."

It wasn't a great change in warmth, but having a wind shield made a great difference. He was deeply asleep within a minute.

A/N:

So we see part of the reason why our morose friend wasn't predisposed to like Oscar. Also why he and Petrus chill in completely different parts of Firelink Shrine, despite initially being the only people there.

doesn't allow you to respond to comments directly, so, my dudes:

Watcher321: Hey, good to see you again, too! No, no Steve sadly. But I need to get back to writing for him I love my wilderness friend

and I am so glad to infect others with the Oscar appreciation ahahaha

Freezee: Thank you for your comments! Um, bonfires do heal, but I have kind of a complicated headcanon on that. I decided at some point that the reason enemies you've already killed reappear after you've rested at a bonfire is because 'resting' means you stay there for like 8 hours and take a snooze, and during that time, all the enemies respawn from their own bonfires and find their way back to where they were, and you gradually heal. The bonfire does cause accelerated healing but you have to sit there for a few hours to get the full effect, it isn't instantaneous (it's portrayed as such in the game itself because obviously you're not going to watch your character sleep for 8 hours that would be horrible game design. But I don't consider this a reason for me to not have this headcanon.)

I mean it's not perfect, I'm not even sure if it's lore-accurate (DO the fully Hollow respawn like a non-hollowed Undead? COMPLICATED QUESTION) but that's what I've got so far.

So, yeah! Oscar was healed by the bonfire, but only a little bit, because he didn't stay there very long and in this AU it takes some time to fully work.

And, nope, Undead is currently still Hollowed in appearance if not in fact.

Wormtongue! Thank you for your words! I'm not going to become an old and withered version of myself if I listen to them too much am I? (LOTR reference sorry)

And, yeah, we'll get into Oscar's motivations more later. Short answer: at the moment, ANYTHING THAT WORKS is good enough motivation to stave off the curse. I think what happened in the moment was, he was so annoyed at the Undead that it snapped him out of the "I'm definitely going Hollow right now" mindset and gave him a chance to recover his strength... psychically, emotionally, spiritually? Whatever, he's managed to not go hollow for the moment and the experience has scared him enough that he really wants to avoid it happening again in the future. Only time will tell if that's enough to keep him sane for the entire quest!

Dragonbornpotterbaggins DO YOU HAVE ENOUGH FANDOM REFERENCES IN YOUR NAME SIR! Thank you muchly, and, probably not, but we'll get to that later, and... no but you're closer than you think in one way or another maybe.

Midheavenly, this may have been the one comment that made me the happiest, I'm so glad you like it too because I was pterodactyl-screeching internally as I wrote that scene! .. well more as I plotted it. Writing it, I was more like "halp how do words"

I sincerely hope to inspire more screeching in the future!

As always, THANK YOU to everyone who reviews, you give me life :D Be safe out there, friends. Don't you dare go Hollow.