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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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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..."

Definitely too much time. Sorey's barely even a week out of training. Vahvuus doesn't know the ins and outs of how the Abbey functions, but he'd surely have to be some kind of epic prodigy to get promoted that fast.

"We can be careful until we know more," he murmurs. He ponders the issue further for a long moment before it even occurs to him what he's doing- pondering, in other words, thinking, freely, without restraint, on how to resolve a problem that they both share. It's... surreal. Sorey's listening to his suggestions and considerations, helpful or otherwise. His opinion actually matters.

This responsibility... it's heavy. He doesn't hate it or anything, but he'll have to get used to this.

Quietly he moves to the edge of the stream and sinks back down into the water, hands lifting a cupful to splash it on his face. Unrestrained and free of the mask, it feels amazing. The cool air as it brushes over his wet skin, the clean sensation of fresh water soaking his clothes- all of it.

Suddenly he doesn't even want to dwell inside his vessel.

It's a lot more of a comfort like this, for him; being the only one making decisions for two, being responsible for a person who didn't even value their own life...it wasn't so much a burden as it felt an unearned responsibility. With Vahvuus providing input it feels a lot better, a lot more like a partnership.

His expression doesn't say that he's as joyful about this change as Sorey is, but it's infinitely better than the blank, empty body language and downturned face from before.

Sorey watches him splash water over his face before he starts and remembers right, yeah, he's still naked. In front of this very beautiful near-stranger. Flushing a little, Sorey finishes rinsing off before wading back over to the shore to climb out of the water, at least pulling on his undergarments so he can spread out on the grass and dry the rest of the way before putting on his uniform. Vahvuus probably wants to spend more time in the water anyway, and Sorey isn't eager to pull him away before he's ready.

Vahvuus straightens up as he notices Sorey leave the water and dress himself, bracing for the call to leave, but when Sorey settles down in the grass instead, he relaxes again, shifting in the water to wait at the edge of the shore nearest to him.

He's not quite sure what to do with his own time, but the more he thinks (for himself, for his own benefit) the more he realizes that he knows next to nothing about the man to whom he's been tethered. And while it's true that he doesn't know anything about himself, either, or if there's even a "himself" to know, of the two there's something he can actually do about the former.

So, after a lengthy silence, he manages to speak up again: "I want to ask about you. Is that permitted?"

Sorey glances up from where he'd been resting his head on his arms. "Sure? I mean, yeah, of course; you can ask me anything, anytime you want."

Vahvuus files that blanket permission away for later in his mind and turns in the water to face Sorey, his head tilted somewhat curiously. "Exorcists are taught to use us as tools. The Abbey covers our faces and binds our kind to yours without choice or permission. We're used and destroyed as needed. The others don't question this process- it's normal, expected. Am I correct?"

It's all a little disturbing when it's laid out plainly that way, but there's nothing in his tone that might express what someone would typically feel: betrayal, anger, distress. Instead he's very matter-of-fact, calm. It's the only truth he knows, and he wants to make sure he understands everything properly before he digs any deeper.

"I...I haven't heard of anybody else questioning that, no," Sorey answers quietly, laying his head back down on his arms, ashamed. It isn't exactly like that; ideas are presented differently depending on who's talking about it, he thinks, but at its core he can't deny that malakhim are still considered unliving beings, expendable and replaceable.

Hm. His intent hadn't been to force Sorey to feel guilty, but he can sense the effect, and he pauses before he continues this line of questioning. However this goes, he... wants to ask. And Sorey has yet to tell him to stop. So, after a moment, "Why did you? What makes you different?"

He doesn't know humans. He doesn't know how they think or why they act any particular way. Sorey's the only human he even knows by name. So much of this is unknown territory for him, but he's... curious? Yes, curious, that's the word.

He could talk about the cat that only he and the eldest father could see, or the man who smelled like storms and far off places, but there's a truer answer than those.

"It was you," Sorey tells him, looking up from his arms again. "When you saw the fountain. I was confused before, but when you saw the water, it's like I could feel your interest and longing."

He pushes himself up to sit cross-legged on the grass. "I'm not anything special; it's you."

That's harder to swallow; confusion swells in his mind, and with the mask gone, it's easy to see it on his expression. Every emotion, every thought is new and palpable. "I don't... understand. I'm not... I didn't do anything."

There's nothing special about him. No one's ever told him anything like that. He's just a malak, expendable and worthless to everyone except the man sitting before him now.

"Maybe not," Sorey leans his elbows on his knees, "but it still meant something to me. Without that, I might never have questioned anything. And I think it's important to start acknowledging the effect we have on each other, if we want to come to understand one another."

Ah... so that's why. It makes sense when he says it like that. Mutual understanding isn't a concept he'd considered before now- never had to, never really been introduced to it. But the way Sorey says it just kind of clicks. Everything he's been doing since the beginning- not just the fountain, but from their first meeting, asking what kind of name he'd like rather than just thrusting one upon him. Vahvuus hadn't understood what he'd been trying to do in that moment, but he can recognize it now.

From that first day, even without knowing... he'd been trying to give him back his free will.

...wait... back...? But when did I...

...that's not my--

He winces, lifting a hand to his forehead, a slight ringing in his mind distracting him from that train of thought. It probably doesn't matter. What's done is done, for good or ill.

My name is... my name... it's...

Vahvuus Cryfder

Is it?

"I'd like that," he finally responds, shaking his head to dispel anything but their current conversation. It hurts... he doesn't want to think about it. "I... want that. I-I think. To understand you."

The flinch that snaps through Vahvuus is alarming, as is the way he grabs at his head. Sorey leans forward in concern even as he recovers, hand outstretched though he's out of reach. What is that? It's not the first time he's been disturbed by a reaction Vahvuus had given him, and he's sure it won't be the last but that doesn't make it any less worrying. What is causing him such discomfort?

Is it related to that mask?

"...Then we can work on that. I want to understand you too; I don't think it'll be impossible for us to reach that point, either."

Vahvuus offers up a quiet, thoughtful hum, leaning back against the bank to lie the way Sorey had, imitating his posture curiously, his feet still dipped into the water. This is... nice. The sun's warm and his feet are cold, with the light shining down on his skin instead of heating up the mask until it scalds. Strange, how he hadn't known what he wanted until it was handed to him.

"I'm not sure I understand myself yet, but I'll try to do my part, too." It feels more honest and equalizing than just a simple agreement to follow orders, or answer questions when instructed. It's more active, more... intentional? Yes, that.

"Okay." Sorey can't help the slow grin crawling into place over his face, moving closer and leaning on an elbow so he can stretch a hand out to Vahvuus to shake. This is what he'd wanted from the beginning; them talking, being equals. Maybe they're not quite there yet, and there are more mysteries than ever to unravel and he's beginning to wonder about the integrity of the Abbey...but now, finally, he has someone. Somebody he can trust. Not because Vahvuus is bound to obey him, but because they came to an agreement together. "It'll be a pleasure to learn more about each other, together."

Vahvuus is quicker to take his hand than before, his grip more firm, and after a moment, his own lips curve upward, imitating a faint rendition of Sorey's smile. It's awkward at first, but as moments pass and he gets used to the feel of it, it grows more natural. It's the smile of someone who's never tried before, but who is suddenly eager to learn.

"Yeah... agreed. Let's do this, as partners."

Sorey is going to ride this high for months, Vahvuus.

--

Though Vahvuus still has to hide when they get to town, Sorey still listens carefully to the little tugs of interest he shows and takes his time browsing, so they can both get a good look at the first town they've ever been to outside of the capital. As a port town, the marketplace is absolutely stuffed to overflow with exotic wares, foods and spices from overseas, fabrics and books and trinkets that the capital only ever doles out to their richest.

Sorey passes by a sweets stall but feels a gentle tug and backtracks, stopping to take a more careful look. "See something you like?" Sorey murmurs under his breath, still earning a curious look from the stall owner before he realizes he's an exorcist.

It's still strange, holding on to his awareness while dwelling within Sorey; before he'd only waited and listened, dull and empty to everything but a call or command, or a sign of danger where his presence would be needed. Now he's far more thoughtful and attentive, seeing the world through Sorey's eyes, and it's all as new and bright as that day in the river. The human world is diverse and vibrant, even with the daemons crawling about just outside their gates. The people are truly alive in a way that malakhim just... aren't. Not in any way that he can remember, at least.

Sorey's been indulging him with sights and experiences, and he's tried not to let it be a distraction, but sometimes he just can't help it. Being allowed to do things, to feel things, has put his senses into overdrive; he wants to feel and experience everything to make up for never getting to do it before.

The scent of food, conveyed through Sorey's body, catches his attention as they wander, and he'd wondered whether or not to say something when Sorey caught him before he could decide. Vahvuus focuses on the contents of the stall, taking in the appearance of every sweet, until he at last speaks up.

"That one on the far left... with the filling. What is that?"

"Excuse me," Sorey asks, pointing, and the shopkeep answers, oh sir Exorcist, you have excellent taste, that's our new vanilla bean and orange zest pastry, and Sorey orders a box, wrapped up nice, because they have some pocket money after selling off the pelts of the animals he'd trapped along the way and because Mikleo wants them. ...okay, also because they look delicious.