#Eygon of Carim

[triflingshadows]

Well she's a lost cause. Couldn't even become a Fire Keeper. After I brought her all this way, and got her all ready. She's beyond repair, I tell you.

[orange24k]

[emberizidaemelo]

From Carim to Lothric

[adinskyy]

ds3 therapy

[gjorg-of-drangleic]

that one convo you have with eygon in firelink shrine

[sunlight-maggot]

Coincidence???

Coincidence.

[girlvinland]

checking the group discord for the day like

[headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne]

Eygon of Carim was assigned to Irina as a form of conversion therapy. The church was hoping he'd fall in love with her, or she'd die. If she died he could be legally punished .

The final indignancy was to give him the armor of famous woman lover Morne.

[goraesang2]

[mashkara45]

[post-nuclear-sweetheart]

Prompts Chapter One

Eygon x Irina

Prompt: A breaking down because they couldn’t save B’s life. B’s ghost/presence watching helplessly, unable to comfort them

Summary: Irina becomes a firekeeper… but what of Eygon?

[ave-rexligni]

My new project has arrived. I initially thought Eygon would be easy to paint, given how much of his overall look could be passed off as black metal - but now, looking at him up close, I’m thinking that might not be a good idea. He’s going to need significantly more browns (esp. on Moaning Shield?) and edge highlights to make him pop. Time to go watch some more tutorials I guess 🥴

Can’t be harder than trying to figure out how to paint on Solaire’s sunface. That sun is tiny, at most 2mm diameter, and the lines would need to be minuscule. SFG makes such good minis and I am stoked to have Eygon around

[orange24k]

I hope he is vulnerable to the cold. 🥶

[emberizidaemelo]

[nohrianseneschal]

Let the Ashes Crumble (WIP)

DS3 fanfic with Eygon/Irina

excerpted wip below the cut

“Eygon?”

He did not reply, but she could tell he was listening. After traveling together for so long, one could sense these things — the slight shift in his weight, or the attentive grip of his gaze. Irina wished he would show her his wound and let her heal it with her palm, imbued with the lost souls of ages past.

In the face of his stubbornness, she inched closer. “What if,” she began, but before she could continue, she bit down on her lower lip. Irina averted her face, letting the loose strands of her silver hair billow over her eyes.

“What?”

“What if I failed?”

Again, silence.

Irina understood silence. She could read in it the tumultuous churn of his emotions. Confusion, astonishment, and, unexpectedly, wonder. Eygon wasn’t entirely displeased by this question, but she knew he resisted the temptation to push it further; to stoke the fire she had unwittingly lit.

“You can’t fail,” he eventually answered. “Besides, I don’t see how. One more step, and we’re almost at the kindling.”

Irina smiled. Of course, it wasn’t a matter of whether or not she could. It was a question of volition. What if, in the end, Irina no longer wanted to bind herself to sacrifice? To be a firekeeper meant to conclude her journey. By extension, it would be the end of Eygon’s, and Irina was well aware of what happened to knights who have fulfilled their duty. 

Nothing but an end. The finality of death. Freedom from the undying curse, and an eternity where they must be parted, their souls divided through the many cycles of rekindling.

She wished she could relay these fears, these nightmares which plagued her with each passing day. They had left Carim together on a mission, but now Irina no longer knew if it mattered. Carim must have become ruins since they left, and the people they once loved might be long dead. They had no one else left. She had no one else left, and once Eygon is gone, there will only be darkness, and the writhing souls that nip and bite at the sanctuary of her mind.

With a sigh, Irina sat on a boulder next to Eygon. She sensed his discomfort, his body growing rigid now that she drew closer. 

“What if,” she tried again, “I want to fail?”

To her surprise, his answer came quickly.

“Then it is my sworn duty,” he said, “to put you to rest.”

Irina expected as much. She felt neither dread nor fear. Only relief. If she had to die, let it be by his hand; let it be by his side. Better than to wait, forever alone for a Chosen Unkindled, trapped in the memories of countless Firekeepers before her. 

“I’m glad, dear friend,” she said, her breath light and airy. “If it’s by your hand, I don’t mind. Only,” she hesitated, tilting her head so it rested on his pauldron, “touch me one last time before you fulfill your oath.”

Next to her, Eygon is unmoved. Beneath his helm, he seemed to mull it over. What turmoil must he be going through? She wondered. She would never know, of course. He would never remove his helm or his armor. They would never know each other beyond the roles they failed to play.

“So this is it, then?” Eygon muttered under his breath. His tone was churlish, as if she had asked him to complete a tedious chore. “You’ll give up, just like that? This knight wasn’t sworn to protect a failure.”

Irina chuckled at that. “I know. You deserve a better maiden — one who would not fail you.”

He scoffed at that, as if her sentiments were a nuisance to him. Then, just as suddenly, his shoulders went slack. Only then did Irina notice that he had not moved her hand away from his pauldron. 

“You did not fail me,” he said, a little more pensively. “Perhaps it is I— no, no use arguing about that now.”

Irina nodded. She understood. They both failed, in the end. They both found devotion in something other than their quest, and in Carim, that was the most profane act of all.

“Then let us stay here,” she said, moving her hand so that her palm rested atop his knuckles. “Let us wait and keep our lonely watch. So long as you’re with me, I won’t mind the dark.”

His heavy armor clinked raucously as he turned and rose abruptly. “I will agree to no such thing,” he solemnly declared. Without another word, he marched right off. 

Irina called out to him. She shot her hand out, hoping it would graze his figure.

There was nothing. Eventually, the sound of his footsteps faded. He left her alone. Unable to perform his duty as a knight, he had abandoned her. Perhaps, she thought with great comfort, he would make the return journey home.