Father-Son Time

An amused hum of a chuckle rumbled deep within Artorias' chest as he watched Solaire roam and explore the greenhouse like the boy had just been let loose in a candy store. There was something magical about watching the innocence of a child exploring something they were passionate about. Already Artorias could tell his boy would become the next Gwynevere, likely destined to be the Hallows' future generation of physicians. So long as Solaire was happy and healthy, that was all the sire could ask the gods for. Lifting a giant blue paw to rub his son's head and ruffle his feathery puppy fur, Artorias grinned from ear to ear. "I'll be sure to let her know she's got a future apprentice in the making," he teased his son, though there was a genuineness to his words. He'd talk to his sister about taking Solaire on as her understudy so that one day, whenever his children grew old enough to take on their places in the Hallows, he would be ready. "Go ahead, Sol. Roam to your heart's content! When you're ready to go, just let me know."

"Artorias" | "Carpathian"