eggses starter

The King of the Storms, as Gwyndio had called the beast, has carved out its own little space of comfort in Anor Londo like its person had (since Gwyndio is reluctant to seek out what may remain of his old quarters). Ornstein thinks it makes a right mess of the little space it's decided to take roost in, but he doesn't really have much space to complain when the city is empty and it's not like they need to entertain visitors often. Visitors that aren't hollows or other undead trying to make a name for themselves in the ancient city of Gods only to get chewed up and spat back out by Silver Knights and illusions, none yet worthy of being the Chosen Undead.

Still, Ornstein doesn't really care for needless mess. Though the palace is dusty and neglected, too much for one knight to keep clean, he still goes through to at least swipe dust off surfaces now and then. But the mess of feathers and whatever other moltings and remnants of past meals the King of the Storm leaves in its roost? Ugh. Unseemly, really. If it weren't for the grace of his Lord, he wouldn't tolerate the beast roosting here.

At least, that's what he tells himself even as he drags a freshly killed elk to the King of the Storm's roost. He hunts now and then, in the lands of Lordran and beyond, to keep their pantry stocked. They don't need to eat terribly often, but it's better than not at all. And, perhaps, a drake may need to eat more frequently or largely than he, his Lord, Gwyndolin, or the Warrior of Sunlight (Smough feeds himself). It is only polite, if they are meant to host the beast, that he provide... That, and, it's only right that he, perhaps... show it the gratitude he feels, for it to have looked after his beloved Lord for so long, when he had failed to.

"Here, drake." He says upon approaching the large beast- plenty large enough for Gwyndio to ride, of course, and bigger still compared to Ornstein. He yanks the carcass forward, to leave it on the floor between them, as an offering. "Another meal for thee. I hope it is enough."

It's right about then that Ornstein takes notice of something that wasn't there the last time he paid the drake a visit- something the King of the Storm is acting rather jealous over, protective and vigilant. Or, more accurately, somethings plural. Somethings ovular and shelled and making Ornstein call into question the 'king' part of the drake's title. "Uh," He blurts, having just been openly staring at the drake's clutch of eggs. "I'll just excuse myself."

Whoop whoop whoop, he's gonna hustle on out of there to let the new mother(?) handle its nest and its meal in case drakes are particularly territorial when brooding, and he really doesn't want trouble- and besides, he has a new goal; tracking down Gwyndio to tell him the important development!