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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 can't quite tell but he can feel sometimes when Vahvuus gets restless, when he pulls more in one direction or the other and sometimes it doesn't just feel like plain curiosity. He leaves it alone though, for the sake of Vahvuus feeling comfortable exploring those urges without Sorey hovering over him and forcing him to think about the reasons why.

Baby steps, baby steps.

"Yeah, sure! I bet there's a few places down near the warehouses that don't have a lot of people." Sorey pokes his nose around, searching for a nice secluded spot until he finds one back behind the Abbey's storehouse, the platform facing the ocean with a few crates stacked here and there. "This is good. You can come out, it's okay."

Vahvuus orbs out of him at once, standing just out of sight of where the people might walk, and inhales the sea breeze, eyes closing as he takes it all in. It's not the greatest scent ever - the port smells fishy and disjointed, full of intermingling foods from all over the world, some of which clash poorly, and the air is more sick than usual with malevolence because of so many humans around. Even with all of that, it's almost heavenly. The feel of water and salt all around him is endless, filling the air, soaked into the dock, the ships, the stalls, even the humans themselves. It's so refreshing.

He sits himself down on the edge of the dock, feet dangling towards the water. He could get used to this. It's a shame they don't stay in one place very long. "So lively..."

"Cool, right?" Sorey grins as he looks over the docks. While there's something unsettling about it that Sorey can't quite put his finger on, and while the ships and crates do smell a little gross, it's just so intensely different from the capital that Sorey can't help but be in love. He's really, finally traveling, really getting to see the world. It's what he's always wanted and now, he has someone to travel with.

Sorey crosses his legs and sets the box on them neatly, gesturing for Vahvuus to join him. "Here! You should get to open it, since you picked them out. Your first pastry box opening!" It's not exactly a big deal, but maybe they can make it one. A whole collection of firsts for Vahvuus.

"Mm. As you say, it's- cool." He shuffles closer, reaching out. He hesitates, because taking things is still difficult sometimes even with permission, but he's faster that usual with his recovery and lifts the lid of the box before he can second-guess himself (or Sorey) again. At once the sweet scent of fresh pastries fills the air, delicious and tantalizing. He's not sure if the concept of "first pastry box" is significant in some way, but at once he's honestly delighted. It smells like it was well worth the gald paid to buy it.

Delicately he takes a pastry from the box, cupping a palm beneath to catch any crumbs. "Is there... something I need to do? Some ritual, or a particular method for eating it?"

In theory he knows how to eat, having watched Sorey plenty of times, but there's still a lot about human culture that he doesn't know. And this is already supposed to be special, evidently.

Oh right, this is his first time eating something too. Sorey doesn't even reach for his own, too eager to see how Vahvuus reacts to it to think about sharing. "Umm, not really. Some humans pray to the Empyreans before eating, but it's not really required. I don't do it." He's supposed to, but he's not going to. Despite the fathers' best efforts, Sorey never bought into the divinity side of things.

Vahvuus makes a face at that; praying to Empyreans just sounds weird, though he's not entirely sure where the feeling is coming from. There's just something instinctively wrong with the idea, and he's quietly glad that Sorey doesn't do it- or require it of him.

Since there's nothing really to wait for after all, he goes ahead and takes his first bite. As soon as the flavours touch his tongue he closes his eyes, chewing slowly to savour it, and a smile creeps steadily across his lips. It's sweet and tender, with that perfect crunch of the pastry... so good. As soon as he swallows he's taking another bite, eager to get that taste back in his mouth, not even pausing to comment on it.

Suffice to say, he likes it.

Sorey's staring, he knows he's staring but he just can't stop when Vahvuus just lights up. His eyes widen and sparkle, his cheeks flush, and his lashes are so long and he just so-

Sorey clears his throat hurriedly and looks down at the box, finally fishing out his own to enjoy. And...they're good, they're really good. Vahvuus has good taste. "I guess you like it," Sorey comments, tone amused as he watches Vahvuus lick the crumbs from his fingers and reach for another without any prompting.

A little embarrassed at being caught stuffing his face like that, a streak of red crosses his face, which he tries to conceal by dusting some of the flakes from his lips. "I... suppose I'm too obvious about it. I've just never had anything like this before. It's a bit overwhelming."

It's not as if malakhim have to eat; it was such a non-issue, and it seemed like a waste of resources when there's already a shortage for the humans. But eating this now just makes him want to try more one day.

"It's okay! I wasn't saying you shouldn't or anything like that. Honestly, it's kind of cute." Really cute. Sorey grins and ducks his head, occupying himself with unwrapping his own pastry carefully.

Cute... that one's new. Vahvuus ducks his head and quickly takes another two bites, chewing carefully, not sure how to respond to that.

"...Oh! Look, he's finally walking! How cute... come here, this way! Hey, get ~~ż͓͛̓̂ͤe͇̬͇͕͚̞̲͊͋ͧ̿͡n̦̥͚͔̰̖̅̒͐͜r͓̪͓̞̗͐ͭ̓͂ͥ͗ú͇̝̝̤̞̙̇͂͌ͪ̏̏͞s̬̝̦̻̪̲̗̏͠~~-"

He swallows hard, brows furrowing. Cute... that person was--

--ah...

"Our rations..." He lets his own voice distract himself, glancing back over at Sorey. Every time he chases those little daydreams, all they do is run away from him. "Would it be troublesome if I tried some once in a while?"

That's a conflicted face. Sorey bites his lip before returning his attention to his own pastry. Too familiar, way too familiar.

"-huh? Oh...no, of course not. It would be nice to have company while I'm eating." Sorey offers him a tentative smile. "Maybe you join me when I go hunting, too. Fresh prickleboar is actually really good."

"...Prickleboar... have you mentioned that before?" It sounds like a name he's heard already, but nothing specific comes to mind. It doesn't sound that appealing, so he'll have to take Sorey's word for it until (or unless) they catch some.

"Probably! I've always wanted to try it fresh-cooked. The stuff I usually could find in the city was salted, but if we can find one in the wild I'll definitely roast it up for us. I bet you'd like it a lot!" It's kind of exciting, thinking of all the things they can do and explore together...except they do have a mission they need to go on, as well. And those people need his help, so it's not as if this is all fun and games.

Sorey lowers his pastry to his lap, expression falling. "...maybe we shouldn't linger long. There are people suffering without our help, after all."

It's impossible to miss the sudden shift in Sorey's tone, and when Vahvuus glances over to find the expression to match it, he looks down, fingers weaving together to keep himself from reaching for another treat. He's right- of course he's right. This isn't a tour or a vacation. The laws of the Abbey, the orders he's been given... they usurp anything else. Whatever they might want or feel doesn't factor in- not Sorey's, and never his own. It's stupid of him to even imagine it.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, reaching out and lifting the lid of the box to cover the pastries remaining. "I should not distract you. Your mission is important."

No matter what Sorey says or believes, the humans will always matter more. That's always been true.

There isn't much he can say here; the mission is important. Saving human lives is the crux of his position as an exorcist. He doesn't like to see Vahvuus withdraw so quickly, to close himself up and shut down, but for right now...maybe-

Maybe it's for the best.

"...we should probably get going. We still have to find a ship that'll allow us passage." Sorey stands up and wraps the ribbon back around their box of sweets, wriggling it carefully into his pack to avoid crushing them. "Maybe we can finish these on the way to Port Cadnix?"

Vahvuus makes a quiet, noncommittal noise in response, rising to his feet and dusting the crumbs off his robe. A ship will be crowded, full of the crew and probably other passengers, which means he'll have to stay hidden again. It'll be harder to enjoy the sea or the pastries there. And the way Sorey reacted to his joy and curiosity...

Maybe he's pushing the boundaries too much? If his new discoveries are causing a distraction, then they'll have to stop. If the Abbey doesn't intervene, eventually Sorey will. As he suspected, there are limits.

Closing his eyes, he dissipates into light and returns to Sorey's soul, quelling his disappointment and sitting quietly in his corner. "I'm ready whenever you are."

One step at a time.

Sorey comforts himself with that, and presses a hand to his chest as if offering Vahvuus the same comfort before gathering his things and making for the ship.

--

Captains are always more than happy to allow an Exorcist free passage; the Abbey has the power to demand it, but it's very often not necessary. Daemon attacks at sea are uncommon but incredibly deadly, so having an Exorcist around in the case of an emergency affords a peace of mind well worth the burden of an extra passenger.

Sorey sleeps above deck whenever possible; he doesn't particularly like it, the smell and the noise, too used to the quiet of the church and then the Abbey at night, but like this the sea is within sight and he thinks Vahvuus might like it, a little, though he's been silent ever since they boarded the ship.

One night Sorey is above deck, in the hammock strung up for him between the masts and curled up in a blanket to protect against the biting chill of the ocean breeze when the clouds finally part ways and allow the moon to fall upon the ocean. It's a beautiful sight, a little scary in its vastness but breathtaking all the same, and Sorey feels out his connection to Vahvuus and nudges it gently, whispering. "D'you wanna see it yourself? It's pretty."

The silence on Vahvuus's part is as much a courtesy as it is... well, sulking, though he doesn't know to call it that. He's been given something pleasant and exciting, an ounce of freedom, and then had it snatched away again. Even if Sorey has good intentions, it still stings.

He doesn't answer right away, pausing for thought - and to consider, briefly, not answering at all - until finally there's a murmured mental response of, "There's a lookout. Someone might see."

Because he does like it, and he does want to watch the water, but he dreads the thought of losing it again. Is this why malakhim are so mindless? These feelings, this distraction- they've made everything so much more complicated. Maybe one day Sorey won't even want to bother.

"It's okay." Even if the lookout sees and mentions something to another Exorcist, Sorey can probably say something like...he thought he saw a daemon. Maybe. If he can manage to lie.

More importantly, hes got the feeling that he's done something wrong, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to risk this to try and make it better.

Vahvuus lets it sit another moment or two before finally relenting, manifesting outside of Sorey's body with his back to the exorcist, instead facing the sea. His hands reach out to curl around the rail, leaning closer, his eyes roving from one thing to another: the way the waves curl over each other, the way the clouds roll gently above them, the way the light of the moon wavers elegantly across the surface of the water. He inhales the prickly ocean air, tasting salt, relishing in that dizzying feeling of his element all around him, loving it, fearing it. He's never experienced anything so wondrous and overwhelming before. Words don't describe it; there are so many things he could say.

"It is beautiful," is what he says at last, quietly. It's insufficient, but he can't bring himself to speak more.

Sorey turns onto his side in the hammock, the rope creaking between the posts. He pulls his blanket up over his shoulders to protect himself from the biting cold that doesn't seem to bother Vahvuus in the least, watching the way ocean winds toss his hair about like a child with a handful of festival streamers. "...what's it like? Looking at so much of something that makes you what you are?"

Vahvuus offers up naught but a quiet, thoughtful hum at first, his focus on the water, the waves parting around the ship and closing back in again behind it. Water is flexible yet steady at the same time, constantly moving, flowing, weaving a path through the world without care. He wishes he could be like that, but he knows his role- like ice he is frozen, fixed, pulled along the Abbey's rigid current. Chipped away, piece by piece.

He wonders, idly, if the tether between their souls would drag him back if he let himself fall in, or if he might just... float away. The waves crest teasingly in his direction, as if tempting him towards them.

His hands clench around the rail, knuckles going white, and he closes his eyes. "It's... daunting," he finally murmurs. "Like I could get lost here and not even realize it. Like I don't know where I end and the ocean begins."

Something falls into the quiet between them, a feeling of otherness, a wide chasm that Sorey desperately wishes he knew how to cross. "...are you scared?"

A good question, and one for which he's not sure he has a truthful answer. Fear isn't something a malak is free to feel, or at least not for him, not until recently. Feelings were still distractions, it could make him hesitate in battle, or attempt to disobey orders... he shouldn't even consider such a concept.

And yet, here he is. Is it fear that holds him in place, preventing him from falling? A fear of the unknown, of the consequences that might follow, of freedom, or of loneliness?

Or is it...

"...I don't know." Quietly, uncertainly. His chest aches again. "I'm empty- I have nothing, no memories, no dreams, no ambitions. If I fear this place, it's because I fear losing myself before I can become anything."

Maybe what's scary is just... thinking, hoping that he might have some semblance of self-worth. That Sorey's words of how his life holds value be true.

That, more than anything, convinces Sorey that Vahvuus really doesn't want to die.

That he doesn't want to be a tool, that he doesn't want to lay down his life for the convenience of his exorcist, for the Abbey to which he holds no loyalty. The idea of being so empty, so bereft of personality and still to be so terrified of losing what little he has...

"...I'm...I'm sorry," Sorey confesses, pushing himself out of the hammock to walk quietly over to Vahvuus' side. "I said something in the port that hurt you. Could you tell me what it was?"