Chapter 5: Confinement 5

I felt an angel's silken wings enfold me with pure love
And felt a strength within me grow, a strength sent from above

*****

The first time Priscila felt the undead's arrival in the painted world, she almost wept in frustration.

Why?

Why could the outside not leave them be in peace?

Did they not understand that this was the only refuge for the discarded and abandoned?

Did they not know that the denizens were no threat and only responded to invasion?

The hybrid felt the intruder as soon as he stepped foot through the painting. Much like others of his kind, he had gorged himself on the souls of others. They permeated his flesh and spirit, blazing like a bonfire to her senses. This one was powerful. The most powerful to have ever invaded.

He was merciless and intense, slaying all who attacked him and growing stronger with every kill. He only fell a few times. The invader would be reborn, curse a bit before calming down and repeat the exact phrase to himself. "Don't you dare go hollow." He would then set off with a grim determination every time he rose, never making the same mistake twice.

The dragon girl felt a pang of sympathy for every one of her neighbours slain, though she knew they would return in a few weeks. They were hollow, so it took them longer to reform than those still blessed with wisdom. Still, they were mortal; thus, undeath's curse would not allow them to perish forever, unlike herself and her kin.

Altogether, the invader was stronger than most. Still not too different than other undead who ventured into her refuge. So long as he did not attack her and simply left, she would not be forced to fight. Priscila hated fighting.

Then she heard him sing for the first time.

Before Ariamis had completed his work, she had been hidden away in the labyrinthine halls of Anor Londo, not allowed to attend the great gatherings with others of the godly courts. Eons ago, she had heard minstrels and bards in the great theatres. Snippets of music had drifted to her ear, and she had followed them as best she could, invisible to all. She had spied on the greatest musicians the world had to offer.

They paled before this one undead.

He sang when he was alone. He sang while he fought. He sang as he arose from death.

There was no music accompaniment, no instruments baring the clashing of blades.

It was the most beautiful sound Priscila had ever heard.

He sang of love and loss. He sang of battle and blood. He sang of places she had never heard, using unfamiliar words. He sang in languages she did not know. Rarely did the undead sing the same song twice, though he did have favourites he returned to. Hundreds of songs left him. Unique beats, unknown genres.

The undead knew not of her presence.

It was just him and his music.

Over the weeks he spent exploring the painted world, Priscila followed him, invisible. It was a guilty pleasure of hers. While she hated the violent invaders, they were also the only new stimulation found in the Painted World. And he made such beautiful music.

But all good things must come to an end. The undead approached the ruined bridge that led to her home, felling the Tower Knight who defended it with ease.

He crossed the threshold fog, the barrier a manifestation of her power that kept the mindless out. She was ready.

"Who art thou? If thou hast misstepped into this world, plunge down from the plank, and hurry home. If thou desire to join our refuge, I would ask you cease your violence with mine neighbours." Please let that be true. Please let him want to stay. "If thou seekest I, thine desires shall be requited not." Some undead sought her out specifically. Whether at the urging of the other gods or on their own, the crossbreed did not know.

Priscila gripped her scythe tightly. Should he choose the path of violence, she would show no mercy. More than one undead had hollowed on the blade of her Lifehunt. Besides, the undead needed no limbs to sing so beautifully. She would take him below to her chambers. Where he would be safe. Forever.

It would be best if he stayed willingly.

The undead stared at her for a few moments, possibly in surprise. Did he not know of her, or was he deciding whether to attack? His armour was damaged from his extensive battles, though she knew he cleaned it regularly. Clad in heavy steel and tattered cloth, he would be an intimidating sight to most, though she towered over him.

He raised his weapon, and she tensed only for him to flip it and drive its blade into the stone below. He then hung his shield on the black halberd's shaft. Reaching up, he unlatched his helmet and set it onto the pommel. At some point between his last rest at a bonfire and arriving at her gate, he had used a fragment of Humanity to return the illusion of his mortal body.

Priscila knew not why nor when. She had hurried home to be in a presentable state for their meeting. She barely had time to brush her hair and tail. Her clothes were still wrinkled, for Gwyn's sake! Still, she relaxed a tad as combat did not seem imminent.

"Pardon the intrusion. I am Mikael." the undead spoke, even as he brushed snow from a step and sat down. "Your, uh, neighbours attacked first, and there are not too many friendly faces around. To have found one is a welcome change. Especially one as beautiful as you."

Priscila knew she could not flush. Her skin remained the pale white of fallen snow. She still fought off the smile that threatened to grow on her face. He was flattering her. She had never been called beautiful before. It was nice.

"Prithee, tell me who thou art? Thou art foreign to this land?" She noticed he had stopped looking up at her, now staring behind her. She turned her head to look at what had caught his attention as subtly as possible.

Her tail had betrayed her.

The traitorous appendage swept back and forth in the snow, clearing an area of stone in its excitement. Clearly, the flattery was more effective than she thought. The crossbreed cleared her throat, drawing the undead's attention back to her face as she focused on keeping her tail still.

"Right, sorry about that." He bowed. Though he spoke as a lowborn, she was pleased he still maintained manners. "I come from a faraway land. Not even the gods have heard about it. Are you familiar with the problems of the outside world?"

"To a degree."

"Time and space are fracturing as the undead curse spreads." He explained. The hybrid actually knew about that. It had begun while she was young still. While she had been sequestered before the worst, the painting acted as both prison and fortress against the worst. "I appeared in the Asylum one day, cursed. Possibly due to the fractures. My companions remain safe but trapped on a faraway island. I seek to free them and learn more about the events leading to my undeath. My path has led me here."

"A noble goal." Though she approved of his motivation, it meant he would not remain here with her. "Thy quest must be harrowing. Why not rest with this one for a time? Thy companions would not begrudge you a repose."

"You've never met them." He chuckled in good humour, but that only soured her more on these distant companions. They did not treasure this Bard as he should be. Not like she would. "I came here searching for help, and then I will be on my way."

"In what manner?" She asked warily. While putting Mikael in her debt would be nice, it was unnecessary.

"As I said, I am cursed to wander while my companions are trapped. I have tested many things to discover more about the nature of the curse. One thing I have not been able to test requires the aid of a willing participant. I would like to see if I can free you from this prison with your permission."

"Free?" She asked, not comprehending his intent. Though she was put off by all his talk of tests, it reminded her too much of her father. "This one is not imprisoned. Ariamis' work is a refuge, far from strife and violence."

"I should probably explain more," Mikeal pulled out a box, one of those bottomless ones the enchanters liked to create. He rummaged around in it for a moment before removing a familiar doll. "This is what led me here."

"May I?" She asked before he continued, reaching out to the worn object. She hadn't seen it in centuries, a token of her childhood. Emotion welled up in her as the undead passed it to her, though it did not show on her face. For this alone, she would be willing to do almost anything.

"The world outside is ending." The man explained as he put away his box. "It will be reborn eventually, only to end again and again. This cycle will continue. Rise and fall. Until the flame is snuffed out completely. Gwyn has doomed the world to eternal twilight and the undead curse in his attempt to continue the age of fire. Should my test succeed, you would escape that fate."

"In what manner?" Priscila asked as she hugged the doll to her chest. The revelation about Lord Gwyn did not surprise her. Even in her short time at his court, she understood well the nature of most gods.

"You would teleport to the Island on which my companions are located. It is a paradise. Their every need is taken care of. You would be trapped with them until I can free them. It is my hope that linking the fire will do so."

"Thou would have me imprisoned?" She asked, though not harshly. "Thou seek to fell the four lords, tis no easy task."

"There would be benefits. My companions would treat you well. The Island is much nicer than this place. You would also receive various blessings. You would grow in power and control. You would be able to make the most delicious food, sing the greatest songs, and never worry about safety again." Though the crossbreed was not tempted by the power or Island, she would be lying if she said she wasn't interested in eating food again. To be able to sing as Mikael, that too would be a prize.

More than anything, the promise of companions almost had her agreeing. Ariamis' world was peaceful but oh so lonely. She had more conversations in the last few minutes than in the centuries hence. Still, from his words, Mikael was unsure of the success of this enterprise.

"I would demand a price of thee first." She said, trying to imitate the imperious tone some goddesses possessed.

"And that would be?"

"Thou must sing for me." Mikael was clearly surprised at her words, though he recovered admirably. She fought not to fidget. She had meant to ask for more information, for guarantees of conduct and safety. The words had slipped from her mouth without thought. If Priscilla could blush in shame, she would.

"Sure, though if I am to pay such a steep price, I will demand one of my one." The humour in his voice eased her worry, though his following words sent a different kind shooting through her. "Let me pet your tail. It's been too long since I've had any floof time, and I am going through withdrawals."

"Very well, though I demand a song fit for a god." She kept her scythe in hand, just in case, as she approached his seated form. Her tail betrayed her once more while she raised her robe slightly to sit appropriately. It lay in his lap without command, shaking in excitement.

"Sure," he agreed easily. His hands started to pet and stroke the sensitive skin on her tail.

Oh.

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Oh, gracious, that was nice.

He knew precisely how to stroke the fur below and scratch the scales above. As Priscila melted into the ground beside him, his hands danced along its length. Then he started to sing, his voice deep and smooth.

"Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
The night is falling
You have come to journey's end
Sleep now
And dream of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across the distant shore"

A lullaby, how lovely.

It reminded the hybrid of more innocent times. When a kind voice would help ease the pain of loneliness. When the painted world was new and bright. Someone would sing to her from the outside, and they, too, had a beautiful voice.

Her new Bard was superior, and the song was better now. Fit for a goddess.

As his fingers and voice eased her more than ever, lulling her to sleep, Priscila did not feel the tiny prick of the bite.

******

Conscious returned to Priscila slowly, dredging her up from the most restful sleep of her life.

She lay on a bed of silver, silken sheets falling from her body like water as she raised herself to sit on the side of the bed. Someone had stripped her bare. She hoped it hadn't been Mikael. She would hate to reveal her disgusting form to her Bard's eyes.

Standing, the crossbreed evaluated this new prison.

It was of a size with her own room in Ariamis' Painting, though much better appointed. Strange creations were against the far wall, metal and crystal rectangles. Television and consols she somehow knew. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with innumerable thin books. Two doors lay to her left, both appropriately sized, while a smaller one was to her right. Dark drapes covered the windows beside her bed.

The first door on the left revealed a lavatory. It, too, was well-appointed. Priscila did not understand the strange shapes and symbols. She understood the large tub was to be filled with water for bathing, and the smaller ones were to be used to wash her hands. The hybrid would have to ask the staff of this residence to bring some hot water at the earliest convenience. She could not remember the last time she had a warm bath.

The second door of her size was a closet filled with clothes well-tailored to her diminutive size. She appreciated the thoughtfulness of it, well aware of how difficult it was to work with such minuscule proportions. Not knowing the temperature or environment of the area, she chose to don a robe similar to the one she wore in the painted world.

Now Priscila faced an issue.

The other door, the one likely leading to an exit, was designed for mortals. Though the crossbreed was much lesser than other deities or their retainers, she was still of sufficient power to tower over them. She supposed she would have to bear the discomfort.

Like squeezing into too-tight clothes, she shrank. It was not painful, more annoying than anything else. Grabbing her scythe from her bedside, it too shrank as a manifestation of her power, she stepped from the room.

The hall beyond was only dimly lit, moonlight filtering through the window at the end. She noticed the art, the other five hall doors, and the entrance beyond. Like when she was a child, Priscila quietly and invisibly made her way through the night. She was unwilling to risk awakening other inhabitants out of fear and politeness. She knew nothing about her Bard's companions.

The stairs beyond the hall led her to the entrance, and her wandering stopped. She passed through the glass doors without realizing it, entranced by the beauty before her. She did not notice as she returned to her regular height or the woman sitting nearby.

A full moon shone its radiance upon an island of unsurpassed beauty. With nary a cloud in the sky, Priscila had a view unlike any she had seen. The sea gleamed like millions of jewels floated on its surface, sounds of the surf crashing in the distance. Below the hill on which the mansion was perched was a field of flowers swaying in the night air. Beyond lay an orchard, fruit she had never heard of dotting the towering trees. Beyond even that was a forest. Even in the moon's light, she could see vast swaths of green that went on for kilometres. Towering peaks dotted the distance, covered in ice and snow. Over the sound of the surf, the hybrid picked up the sound of insects, birds, and animals from the forest.

The Island was more alive than anything the crossbreed had ever seen. Her Lifehunt let her sense the sheer vitality in the land and sea.

The moon, the sea, and the Island were all dwarfed by the being that held it all in its great white claws.

They wrapped around the world as if holding a precious jewel. Five curved talons on each side held it in place. Focusing beyond them as much as possible, Priscila realized they were pressing the Island against a scalled chest.

The hybrid felt herself grow warm, partly from the thick clothes she wore but primarily due to other reasons. Priscila would have to reward her Bard somehow, at the same time as expressing her displeasure. He had undersold just had excellent this prison was.

"Oh god," a voice said from beside her. "There's another one."

Turning to it, Priscila was once more struck by a vision of beauty. In her youth, the hybrid had seen Lady Gwynevere by chance. It had only been for a moment, but it had stuck with her all her life. She remembered thinking that there could be no one so beautiful. The woman before her challenged that thought.

Sitting in a luxury chair, she leaned back in leisure. Her blonde hair fell past her shoulder like a river of platinum. She wore a positively scandalous white outfit that showed off her generous curves. Her legs, thighs, midriff, and top of her bosom were exposed for all to see. One hand held a crystal glass filled with wine, and the other covered her face.

Had this woman had a soul powerful enough to sustain a larger form, there would have been tourneys in her honour.

"Nope," the woman said. She removed her hand from her face, and piercing blue eyes stared up at Priscila. "I am not dealing with this."

"Art thou Mikael's companion?" The hybrid asked, slightly intimidated by her beauty and glare.

"His prisoner, you mean?" The blonde asked rhetorically. She stood, setting aside her drink. Though she was less than half Priscila's size, she made the dragon girl feel very small with her withering stare. "We all are. That madman coned you into it, so you are one of us now. You shouldn't fall for the first pretty voice. Men will make all sorts of promises to get what they want. Mikael, especially."

"I do not understand. My Bard did not lie." He had mentioned she would be a prisoner until he could free her. It had been an attractive idea, like one of the fairy tales of her youth. Priscila felt the need to defend his honour to this stranger.

"Nope, not dealing with this." The blonde repeated, setting off into the house, gesturing for Priscila to follow. She did, shrinking again to fit through the doors. "Mikael is more dangerous than most. He did not need to lie. He made a little promise, sang a little song, and now you are attached to him for eternity. He will free us from this Island someday, sure. But we will never be free from him nor his influence."

"I do not understand." The hybrid repeated as she was led through the building and down some stairs. The halls were no longer made of wood but of well-carved stone. The occasional light source provided plenty of illumination, though she did not recognize their form.

"Of course, you don't," the blonde leading her let out a hollow laugh. It sounded a bit mad, so Priscila widened the distance between them, scythe gripped tightly. "Nobody does. I give all the warnings I can, and nobody listens. You will fit right in with these hero types. Gullible, the lot of you."

"I understand thou has grievance against Mikael," Priscila responded as they stopped before a door. DO NOT ENTER was carved along its surface. "He has done me no wrong, and I will not allow a tarnish to his name without reason."

"Of course you won't," the blonde knocked on the door. She suddenly looked tired, as if a weight had settled on her shoulders. Priscila recognized the look of loneliness, though made no effort to comfort her. Not until she apologized for insulting her Bard. "When this is over, I hope you are sane enough to see."

Any response Priscila could have said to that strange utterance was halted by the door opening. Framed by the room's light, the hybrid made out another woman of great beauty. Long purple hair fell past elfin ears, and purple eyes swept from the blonde to her. She was at least dressed appropriately, though her blue dress did not cover her ankles.

"Emma? What is going on?" The new woman asked the blonde, Emma.

"New arrival, she's your problem now." Emma stepped away towards the stair back to the surface without another word. The pair watched her leave before looking at each other.

"Apologies, I did not mean to disturb thou this late. If it is your wish, we can meet again on the morrow?" Priscila's long-disused lessons on courtesy had her perform a light curtsey, though her clothes were not the most appropriate.

"It's fine. I don't need sleep anyway. You can ignore Emma. She's just grumpy." The woman looked her up and down with interest. Priscila noticed how her eyes lingered on the scales on her face, her eyebrows, her scythe, and her tail. "I see Mikael's experiment was a success. I'm Medea. Who are you?"

"I am Priscila," she answered. She had no further title, no land to claim, and no family to call her own. She was simply Priscila, the crossbreed.

"She's the one trapped in the painting." A new voice pipped up from behind her. "She appeared a few hours ago in one of the unused bedrooms."

The new arrival faded from the shadows behind the hybrid, her voice calm and without inflection. Priscila fought not to attack with her scythe on instinct. It would not do to kill any of her Bard's companions.

"Thou know of me?"

"We knew Mikael was going to try to free someone trapped in a painting. Our last contact with him was before he entered." The cloaked woman explained monotonously.

"Raven," Medea nodded at the new arrival before stepping aside. "Why don't you both come into my workshop? We have much to learn." At any other point in her life, Priscila would have balked at the woman's voice. She sounded like Seath in his more 'curious' moods. But the hybrid barely noticed, nor did she care how her pointed ears wiggled in excitement, nor how her eyes devoured Priscila's form. Instead, the crossbreed gripped her scythe tightly, following Raven into the room as she came to a startling revelation.

Were all her Bard's 'companions' beautiful women?

********

Now for the floofy dragon herself.

Initially, I had planned for a much more aggressive confrontation, starting with a fight before Mikael showed her 'mercy' and made the offer. Then I realized a problem. Priscila is a tier six but is a full dragon hybrid which is a +2 to dragon aura. +1 for having a second element and another +1 because she heard him sing. Effectively she counted as a tier 10 for purposes of calculation and spent weeks nearby him while he worked up a sweat. This lonely, demure, dragon girl would have no reason to resist its effects.

Thus, slightly yandere Priscila.

Even Mikael did not expect this outcome. In-game, Priscila wouldn't have followed the players around. In this world, of course, she would want to know about any intruders. Since she can turn invisible, then she can follow them for a bit to determine their motives.

We also see hints of Emma and her deal. That will be elaborated on in the next few chapters, though complete answers will have to wait for a while yet.

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