You wear her face

The Warlord paced along the parapet, occasionally glancing out at the expansive view beyond. A sense of deja vu encasing him. He had stood not far from here the first time he had goaded Artorias. When he had attempted suicide by angsty teenager. The gloom and anger that had clouded him then had surged forward once more. Each passing day took him further and further from her. Until the scent of her had already begun to fade from the things she had held in life.

Would the youngest of their children forget the face of their mother?

He swallowed past the burning sensation in his throat. It was becoming far too common. He was discovering that the more he swallowed back his anger, the more his grief grew. It seemed if he could not find rage, then he would find sadness instead. He felt hollow and empty, aching with the missing parts of himself.

He turned, and repeated another circuit of passing, pausing as a familiar face came into view. “Briar.” He said, voice colder than he’d intended it to be. He had come out here to be alone. The sight of his children reminded him too much of Zee. and Briar… Briar especially, he had once called his little Zeelet. His eyes strayed to the scar beneath her chin. Flicking there, then away again. “Thank you. I hear you fed the children this morning” He said, his voice quiet.


"Speech"