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Being raised in the church isn't so bad.

Empyrean worship isn't as prevalent as before, even in the capital of Loegress, but the priests and attendants are all friendly and more importantly, it's safe. That's what they tell Sorey over and over, it's safe within the city, and he supposes it must be true. Sometimes he'll hear whispered stories when he's cleaning the pews, on his knees in the shadows as Brother Mathley and Brother Ferengard murmur, another village, did you hear, what a pity.

And though his heart longs for the outside world, as far back as he can remember, he's only seen the city walls. And the priests don't believe him when he tells them about the spirits; about the nice old kitty who tells him stories from when the mountains were still being born, about that man who could make the wind do as he wished. They were good spirits, Sorey could tell, but almost nobody could see them.

...nobody but Artorius.

He had only visited the capital once, with two other people. He was younger than the brothers but much older than Sorey, and he looked every inch the explorer Sorey wished he could be. Sorey had hidden behind the altar with the cat spirit as they spoke with High Priest Gideon, as he told them something about violence and nonsense before turning them away. Artorius (Sorey would learn his name much later) had seen him, looked at him and then, very deliberately, looked at the cat as well. Then he'd smiled and raised his finger to his lips before he and the others left.

"Don't associate with those types," Father Gideon had said to him, but Sorey knew, one day, he would join them.

The Scarlet Night happened, and now everyone could see monsters. And then it happened again, and everyone could see spirits. Artorius returned, Father Gideon welcomed him with open arms, and the moment Sorey turned seventeen he joined the Abbey's ranks. He'd practiced bowmanship and swordsmanship before at the church as a way to keep fit, but now his skills would be used to protect people, to kill daemons.

He would be given a malak, today, to use to those ends. And though it makes him feel a little deceitful, as Sorey pulls on and straightens his uniform for the ceremony, all he can think about is finally, finally leaving the city walls.

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"Yeah, of course not," Sorey says, still unaccustomed to Vahvuus's timidity. He has to just keep plugging away at it, until Vahvuus gets more comfortable, until they get used to each other. Or that's what he tells himself every time he starts to doubt his methods. What else has he got to use, after all?

It's the answer Vahvuus expected, but he'd still waited for it anyway, not used to free will or the ability to utilize it. A wave of relief rushes through him when permission is granted, which does surprise him. He hadn't realized how badly he wanted it until just now. The desire had been quiet and distant, blocked off behind a mental wall with naught but a window to peer through. He'd ignored it for so long, but Sorey's presence and persistence in treating him like a person has brought the topside of it lower, brick by mental brick.

Exhaling softly, he steps forward and dips a single foot into the stream, feeling the water flow over his skin, fresh and clean. This area is teeming with malevolence just like the rest of the world, so he knows distantly that it's not the purest, but with Sorey's protective domain it's soothing to the touch. It feels like--

"Gramps, why does the spring never empty when it's flowing over the cliff like that?"

"It's replenished by mana, flowing through the presence of water seraphim in my domain into the earth around it. You can feel it, can't you?"

In a sudden rush that he barely even registers until after the fact, his feet kick off the stream's edge and he plunges without restraint into the water, submerging himself entirely, letting it swallow him up. He stays under for longer than he knows he ought to, eyes closed behind the mask, allowing himself to feel, truly feel it.

--like home.

Sorey finishes folding all his clothes onto the bank; Vahvuus's figure is just barely visible under the water, the pure white of his uniform and the silver-blue of his hair striking against the dark stones. Sorey wades a little deeper, shivering at the coolness of the water as he finds someplace good to crouch down and start washing up.

This is good, right? He's never been so enthusiastic about something before; even the fountain hadn't elicited that kind of response. Maybe connecting with his element will help him find a little bit more of himself.

Vahvuus doesn't know how long they have - how long he has to indulge his own whims - so he stays below for as long as he dares until finally surfacing, soaked from head to toe. He could summon it back into the water if he wished, or let it all run off of him like the feathers on a duck, but he likes the way it feels on his skin and in his hair. Sorey's still bathing not far off, so he swims closer, sitting down quietly and leaning back against the rock. The soft and steady way that the water flows by is so soothing; he can't remember ever feeling so calm.

Quietly, almost too quiet to be heard over the water, he murmurs, "Thank you for this."

Such a simple thing, and as the commanding exorcist, Sorey didn't have to. But he did- he noticed it's what Vahvuus wanted, and he allowed it. He really does believe that they're partners, doesn't he?

It's sweet. Sad, but sweet.

Trying to tell Vahvuus not to thank him for common courtesy never works out well, so Sorey just flashes him a grin, scrubbing his bar soap through his hair. "Anytime! If you ever see anything interesting you wanna check out, let me know, okay? I'll never get mad at you for asking." Baby steps and all.

The day of their first meeting, that sort of comment would have barely registered; some time ago, he might have questioned it, having learned that Sorey didn't punish or scold him for asking. Now? He just nods and accepts it as truth, so long as Sorey never proves otherwise. Knowing what he knows thus far, it's almost guaranteed.

He dips his hands in and out of the water, cupping it, then pressing it against his face and neck beneath the mask. He missed this. He doesn't know why, but he did. He must have done this before.

Shaking his head, he speaks up again, tentatively. "Do you... need any help?"

It's weird to ask - to even consider - since he's not really equipped to help with this sort of thing. Malakhim are built for combat and artes, not menial tasks or cleanup duty. But Sorey's always letting him do things he ought not to, or speak freely when he should keep silent.

Sorey's automatic response is to decline, but he stops himself before he can follow through, staring at Vahvuus. It's the first time he's ever volunteered for anything, so necessary or not Sorey would like to encourage it. "...sure, yeah. Um, do you mind washing my back? I can't really reach all the way."

Oh dear, he said yes. Vahvuus hesitates, feeling it out for a moment, and- no, once again, it doesn't register like an order. It's so strange, but he welcomes it, this... ability to accept it, or refuse. Is this how humans feel when they make choices?

He'd offered for a reason, though, so his choice is obvious, and with a smooth motion he rises from the water and moves towards his vessel. "I can do that," he murmurs, accepting the soap and standing behind Sorey to rub it and his hands over the bare, half-cleaned back. At least bathing is a simple task, one that requires no instruction, and since it involves water it's almost as naturally comforting as the swim he'd had minutes before.

Sorey's body is as alien to him as any human's, but his mind registers things he notices while cleaning- the rough and muscled skin, made strong from training, the sturdiness of the bones beneath, the way he tenses and relaxes when hands reach certain spots. How curious.

It's plenty strange; nobody's helped him wash since he was a very small child, so letting someone else do this is...kind of uncomfortable, but kind of not. After all, they're already connected in a way that's way more intimate than this, right? What's washing someone's back when you dwell in their soul?

Plus, if he's honest, it also feels kind of good. Sorey thrives off of physical affection, and since leaving behind his friends in the Abbey for his mission, he's been suffering a little from the lack of it. Not that it's noticeable or distracting, but just...he's missed it. Maybe he was even a little lonely without it. So as Vahvuus's fingers light across his back, as his palms dig in Sorey relaxes and lets his head dip forward a little.

He turns his head to see just beneath the edge of Vahvuus's mask, and- wait a minute, is that his mouth? Does he have a face under there? Unable to stop himself in his curiosity, Sorey reaches up with a couple fingers to hook them under the lip of the mask, intent on pulling it up just a little to get a closer look...

The response is subtle but immediate- Vahvuus tilts his head upwards, shifting back, so any lift of Sorey's fingers has no effect. There's a soft, startled exhale of breath on Sorey's hand, confirming that it is, indeed, a mouth.

Surprised by his own knee-jerk reaction, he fumbles to find an explanation. It's the first time he's actively resisted anything Sorey's said or done, and in that sense, it's disturbing.

But... he's not... supposed to take it off, is he...?

"I..." His throat feels oddly parched, and he licks his lips, strangely uneasy. "Do you want it removed?"

He can't think of a reason why that would be necessary, and he has no particularly valid reason why it can't happen. And if the exorcist orders it, he has no choice.

It's just... ingrained. Don't take it off. Don't show your face to them. No one wants to see it, anyway.

No one wants to think that you're...

Sorey falters once Vahvuus jerks back, hand lowering. He hadn't wanted to command his partner like a thing, but that really is the first time Vahvuus had ever knowingly resisted him. Was it something he did? Something he said?

"Not if you don't want me to," Sorey answers uncertainly, though he's not sure how Vahvuus will respond to that given his already shaky understanding of his own wants and desires. Does he need a command one way or the other? Which is the correct decision?

Vahvuus hesitates again, unsure of the right answer to that one. He can't remember the last time he wasn't wearing the mask. ...No, he can't remember ever not wearing it. So whether or not he wanted it was irrelevant, as it's never factored in before. It doesn't matter, right? Sorey might not understand it, but he knows that his own feelings aren't supposed to matter.

Although... his gaze drifts down to the water. It would be nice to feel it on his skin again. If he didn't have to wear it... if it was gone, he could...

Tentatively, he speaks up again. "The Abbey put it on me before I was given to you. I'm not aware of the rules, and I... I don't... there could be consequences."

He's not sure what he wants, but he doesn't want to cause his exorcist any trouble. Surely his own comfort isn't worth that.

They Abbey, again. So Vahvuus didn't have it as part of himself, it was something the Abbey put on him. But why? The uniforms, he understands, but why a mask? "Do you not want it on?" Sorey asks quietly.

Vahvuus hesitates again. He knows, if he answers honestly, the mask will be gone. He'll be free of it- Sorey probably won't make him wear it again. Unconsciously he lifts one hand to brush lightly over the surface, the metal cold and unfeeling. The thought of it coming off is... good. It feels good. He wants it.

He wants it, but...

"You have... no objections?" he whispers as he had before, so much more tentative this time, his hand dropping to the side before he can risk giving in and pulling it off himself. Getting into the water is one thing, but this- this is rebelling against the wishes of the Abbey itself. It isn't right.

Except... that voice in his mind, the one that whispered obey, obey every time he had an idle thought to himself, is strangely silent this time. All he feels is the steady thrum of his link to Sorey, and a quiet hope.

"I want you to be happy," Sorey murmurs, though that's not what he'd intended to say at first. He was going to say he wanted Vahvuus to be comfortable, to feel like they could talk to each other and be themselves around one another. Somehow it became that because the more Sorey sees of him, the more Sorey is convinced that Vahvuus isn't just lacking in happiness; he's unhappy. He does have emotions, and for some reason his heart is hurting. "I want you to do what makes you happy." It sounds a bit like an order; I order you to do what you want, in a way, but if that's what Vahvuus needs for permission, Sorey will give it to him.

Hearing those words is exactly what Vahvuus needs, whether they both knew it or not- almost immediately the stress drains from his body, a sense of calm conveyed through his body language. He hadn't known what to do or say when Sorey first replied, but the simple yet crucial distinction between suggestion and command helps him at last decide, really decide for himself.

He doesn't know what it is to be happy- doesn't know, or doesn't remember. Even he's not sure anymore. The thought of finding his own happiness without guidance is frightful, but this? This... order, that isn't an order at all? He can use that. It's justification he needs to do things of his own volition, without Sorey's request or approval.

Even if he doesn't know how to be happy, he can figure it out like this. He can do what he wants, as long as Sorey doesn't force him to stop. That weight on his heart demanding that he obey is lighter, the voice still silent. He almost feels free.

Exhaling shakily, he lifts his hands again and opens the clasps holding the mask in pace, and very carefully he pulls it away from his face. He blinks in the sudden, unfiltered light of the sun, glances around as if seeing the world for the first time. Everything looks different- brighter, more colourful, so open. Every sound is heard with greater clarity, the gush of the waterfall, the chirping birds in the trees, even the soft brush of the wind.

It's a sensory overload, at first, and he's not sure how to deal with it, but somehow it isn't frightening at all. It's... familiar, and he wears the wonder on his expression plain as day. He hadn't known the world would be this beautiful.

And Sorey, naked in waist-deep mountain-chilled water, is struck dumb.

Vahvuus had been bound to his soul just a scant few days ago but already Sorey was beginning to feel like he hadn't been living his life properly before. Trapped and training in the city, unable to wander further than its protective walls, the Abbey and Vahvuus were his way out; a way to see the world, to travel, to explore and learn and live. Whether or not there was any actual correlation, Vahvuus coming into his life was the crux of its turning point. Now he stands here as watches all of those feelings flit across the face of the malak- the person attached to his soul.

And he's the most beautiful person Sorey has ever seen.

Not just his face; not just the way his hair falls in waves, white and silver and pale icy blue like rapids, not just the way his skin is so pure and pristine or the way his lashes curl, but in the wonder on his face. The intelligence in his eyes, the way his mouth curls just slightly up as he takes in the world around him for what looks like the first time. He's stunning. He's amazing.

"Wow," Sorey mumbles, his own brand of awestruck.

Vahvuus turns in a slow circle, taking in all of the sights around him, and when Sorey speaks he finally faces his exorcist properly, no barriers between them now. He's startled at first by the expression he finds there, but it's- it's not a bad expression, not angry or upset or disturbed. If anything, he looks happy.

Is that what it means to be happy? Is this?

Tentatively he reaches up to brush a hand over his own face, feeling the skin for what seems like the first time. It feels normal enough, not scarred or ruined or missing features. If there's nothing wrong with his face and it makes an exorcist happy, why was he forced to conceal it? They never gave him a reason, never had to. Is it just Sorey who'd react this way?

He doesn't understand at all, and has no logic to cling to and form an explanation. He looks back at the mask, stares down the ugly, malformed golden dragon that used to be his face. The thought of having to put it on again is... awful.

....ah.

It makes sense, now.

Facing Sorey once again, he offers the mask out to him. "...I... I don't want it. I don't want to wear it."

Sorey takes the mask slowly, still trying to take in everything that's him- Lords, how could he not have known? How could it have been so hard to tell? Malakhim are tools, not people? What a fool he was, to swallow lies like that- Vahvuus is more person than half the people at the Abbey.

The mask is heavy in his hands; not quite metal, some kind of firm material but when Sorey squeezes it, it doesn't flex. Rigid.

He looks up at Vahvuus, steels himself and nods before marching over to a boulder jutting out from the water. He places the mask atop the boulder, seeks out another hard, sizeable rock from the riverbed and slams it against the mask until it breaks.

Vahvuus watches him, confused and unsure of what he'll do, and when Sorey heaves the rock at it he surges forward as if to try and stop him, but catches himself before actually reaching him. Whether they're meant to keep the mask or not, whether this will cause trouble for them or not... they're in this together, now. And now that he knows what Sorey's trying to do, he doesn't want it to stop. He wants to see it gone, ruined, destroyed forever. He wants the temptation to put it back on for safety's sake torn away from both of them, leaving no chance.

Instead he stands back, waiting until Sorey finishes, and once the deed is done he approaches, crouching down to pick up one of the pieces. It's well and truly shattered now, unlikely to ever be mended. They'd probably need a new one at the Abbey, but with all of the malakhim they have assigned to exorcists, they must have hundreds of them.

His hands tighten, the broken material creaking in his grip. The thought of... so many of them, so many other malakhim who...

He exhales a shaky breath, closing his eyes to quell his mind, because that thought is well and truly rebellious and he doesn't want that voice to come back if he pushes too hard. He doesn't want to lose this newfound freedom before he's had a chance to explore it. What he does do is discard the piece he'd lifted, ignoring it in favour of turning to Sorey. "Thank you. Not only for that, but... for teaching me how to choose."

"I haven't done anything worth thanking me for," Sorey says, hanging his head as he braces his hands on the rock. "I didn't...I didn't even think to ask you until now." He could make excuses about what he's been taught, about how little information there is on malakhim but they would be just that: excuses. When he's prided himself all his life on thinking for himself, how can he just say 'nobody told me' now?

But sitting here and wallowing in his own mistakes will help nobody. The world is still full of daemons, and the mysteries surrounding Vahvuus are just as numerous as they were before.

Sorey looks up at Vahvuus. "I meant it when I said I wanted to be partners with you, but not when you couldn't choose it for yourself. I don't know what the Abbey did to you but...I want to help. I don't want to use you like a thing."

Vahvuus feels the urge to disagree - feeling grateful is a new thing, and he wants to indulge in every new emotion or thought process as long as he's permitted - but he doesn't want to start a fight over it. He looks down, fingers twisting together in front of himself, resistance warring stubbornly with the chains around his soul that he knows, he knows are the laws of the Abbey, buried deep where even Sorey's words can't reach. His leash is a little longer than it was, that's all. It's an important change, and one he'll be testing now that he knows he can.

But a leash is still a leash.

"Please don't... misunderstand this. Our roles have been decided- you are still the exorcist, and orders are orders. Continue to use my powers as you've been taught." His brows furrow, feeling it out- searching for the voice within that tells him what to do, finding none, wondering what that means. "...I... I will tell you when I... want something. I'll speak more freely. I'll be your... your partner."

Again, it's not what Sorey wants to hear...but it's markedly better than last time. And it's something that Vahvuus has given obvious thought to, so he should respect his wishes.
At least now he can hear (can see) actual emotion in Vahvuus's voice. At least now it's not just like speaking to a stone or a tree, or listening to his own echoes on the wind. Vahvuus is a person; he knows that now. However that changes their relationship...he'll have to see.

"...all right," Sorey tells him lowly. "We'll take it one day at a time."

There is something else to think about, though. "For now, if there are other exorcists around, it might be best if you go inside me. I don't know what the Abbey's rules are but we can't let them put the mask back on you."

There's no hesitation as Vahvuus nods in agreement, his gaze darting briefly to - and away from - the shattered mask. "I will." He pauses, and then adds, "Are there... books, or guidelines that we could study? If we knew more, we would know what isn't permitted."

He asks tentatively, mostly because- if it is a rule, or there's something else they're not supposed to be doing, then what if Sorey changes his mind? Vahvuus feels like he won't, but it's still only been a few days since they met. There's no real way to know for certain until it happens.

"If there are, I've never seen them." Sorey frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "In fact, all that the Abbey really hands out to recruits is the standard doctrine and rulebook. I assume once you get promoted you get more information, but that would take too much time..."