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monolike) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kickitover2017-03-30 10:27 am
monolike) wrote in kickitover2017-03-30 10:27 am
(no subject)
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.
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.
no subject
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.
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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?"
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Just brush it off, his instincts whisper. And of course another, darker voice hisses obey, obey like always and he can't figure out if the urge to answer in truth or because Sorey asked for it. He wrestles with it, resents that feeling of uncertainty.
"I know you don't know all the rules," is his reply, facing out towards the ocean rather than the exorcist at his side, "But I wish that you did. I can't be anything until I know what I am allowed to become."
The questions haunt him, even when he tries to dodge clear: who is he? Who was he, if anyone? Is he meant to be serf and slave to the Abbey's orders, or a person with thoughts and desires like Sorey keeps telling him?
How long until it all comes crashing down around them? Until Sorey inevitably has to make a choice? Because he's already getting the impression that Sorey will choose duty above all else. A kind heart doesn't change the importance of one's mission.
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The Abbey has rules, and while Sorey likes to think he knows most of them, it seems like somehow Vahvuus knows even more. The way he'll steer away from certain topics, the way he'll reach for freedom only to lock himself down at the prospect of it...he'd been excited at the port, but when Sorey mentioned their mission he'd closed himself off for days. Halfway to Port Cadnix, and this is the first time they've spoken to each other at length.
"Allowed to become...?" Sorey's brow furrowed and he grips the railing. So Vahvuus feels restrained- is it because of their mission? Going out to see the world, to save people from the daemons? "Are you trying to say-"
WHAM
The ship rocks suddenly and violently to the side; the helmsman cries out and all of a sudden the deck is swarming with crew as they struggle to see what happened, if the ship ran aground some unexpected shallows-
But that sick feeling begins to seep up from the water and Sorey knows, quite suddenly, that he and Vahvuus are about to see their first daemon at sea. "-everyone who doesn't need to be up here, please get below deck!"
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There's a certain level of relief that he feels, shamefully, for this. It's better than talking about his unnecessary problems. This is why he exists, why their partnership was started- so his power could be utilized to fight daemons, and to save the humans around them. That's all. That's what Sorey had been trying to tell him back at port.
Steeling himself, he dissolves his body and vanishes into Sorey's, allowing his stronger sensitivity to daemon influence guide where he moves.
"To your left- it's crawling up the side. Feels like a big one."
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Except he's not alone. Vahvuus' power thrums through him, ebbing and flowing like river streams, collecting in the corners of his soul like frost. Neither of them are alone.
A large, octopus-type daemon pulls itself up onto the deck with a heaving splat. It doesn't look like it could've been what caused the ship to shudder, but when a tentacle curled around the railing crushes it to splinters Sorey has to reassess. Looks can be deceiving, with daemons. Even small ones can be deadly.
"Can you use ice artes on it?" Sorey asks Mikleo, circling the creature to put himself between it and the crew of the ship scrambling to tie down the sails. "Maybe if we can immobilize it quickly, I can get to the head and kill it before anyone gets hurt."
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...and just as the ice melds the monster's tentacles to the deck it roars, a guttural noise as thick as bubbling stew, and the tentacle snap upright, shattering the ice with little effort. It scatters across the deck in thick chunks, already melting away.
Vahvuus takes a step back, startled at how quickly it had broken free. "It's too strong... we'll have to slow it down before something like that will work."
If it's strong against water artes, this'll be tough. No other exorcist is here to help them, either. Can they really do this?
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"Okay," Sorey mutters, half to Vahvuus and half to himself, heart pounding as he tries to recall his training, with little luck. It had been drill after drill after drill; then sparring, between his fellow trainees. Nothing against a- a monster like this.
But the ship's crew is shouting behind him...and Vahvuus, with no sense of self, with no reason to remain loyal to the Abbey besides that someone told him to be. "I know you don't know all the rules, but I wish you did," he'd said. There's something Sorey is missing, something that's troubling Vahvuus so terribly that he feels empty and trapped.
Sorey- he cannot allow them to die before he figures out what that is. They're partners. "Okay," he breathes again. Slow it down. "I'll cripple it, you support me however you can!" There's nothing to do but do it, Sorey tells himself firmly, and charges into the fray with a shout, swinging at a flailing tentacle before it can latch onto the mast.
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He moves to the opposite side of the beast, dodging around the thrashing tentacles, and stays carefully out of range as he lifts his staff to cast another arte. Instead of crawling ice he summons a series of shards, big as swords and just as sharp, and flings them towards the daemon. It roars and writhes, several of the limbs sliced and oozing black tendrils, not exactly blood but similar enough to be rewarding. It isn't so big that it's invincible, so that's... reassuring, mostly.
More confident now, Vahvuus takes a few steps closer, chanting under his breath to fire off another series of artes. If they can survive long enough to knock it loose, enough weighted ice could make it sink, hopefully before the boat does.