Let go of the past

Mercury had a feeling he was very lucky. Lucky that Artorias had found him, and that he was able to offer the Ermis a safety line. He wasn’t sure where all this would take him, but it was clear it would take him somewhere. A future, when moments before he had none.

Artorias was rightly confused at his request, and Mercury gave him a small smile, looking up at the roof of their den, contemplating the stars that were out of sight for the moment. Considering his words. Always, he considered them. Careful of letting too much of his grief out at once. “My people have a belief, and a tradition. When a wolf passes, their loved ones make them a windchime. We hav-- had a forest dedicated to them. We believe that each windchime, unique in its crafting as the wolf it was meant for, has a voice. A voice for those that we’ve lost. We called them the singing trees, and when the wind swept through the forest would sing. Alive with the voices of those gone. Some recently, and some from generations ago. Our way of keeping a part of them alive. I would like to honour that tradition, if you’ll let me” he explained.

"Speech"