(no subject)

[monolike]

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.

Comments

[monolike]

The malak disappears inside of him and Sorey presses a hand to his chest; he'd seen it with other exorcists before but experiencing it himself is completely different. He can actually feel the malak inside him, a steady presence that ebbs gently like a pulse.

"Report to quarantine," the praetor orders, voice far away, and it takes a second to coax his feet into moving. He has a malak tethered. He'll be expected to kill daemons with his new tool. He'll get to leave the city walls.

He's going to see the world.

By the time Sorey reaches the doctor he's already starting to shiver with fever. He's put to bed in a cot near the other recruits and when he closes his eyes he knows nothing more for three days.

He wakes weak and getting disgusting, but hungry and eager to see his new quarters. The gentle pulse of his malak is still there and Sorey glows with pride, smiling to himself as he checks the eastern wing of the Abbey training compound. Though the room is barely large enough for a bed and a small dresser, it's his and it has his things in it; the few books he'd acquired, his maps and the little orange feather earrings he'd been left with when the priests found him outside the church. He hadn't been allowed to wear them during training but now Sorey clips them on, feeling all the better for it.

Still, is his malak supposed to be so still and quiet? Has he been in there like that for the entire time Sorey was out? "Hey," Sorey calls softly, tapping his chest as if knocking on a door, "are you okay in there? You can come out if you want, y'know."

[nerdeology]

Mikleo ventures out a few times while the exorcist slept, during curfew hours, the recovery room deserted by all except for the feverish patients and the occasional staff wandering through to complete their checks. When all is quiet he lets himself out of the boy's body and stands at his bedside, staring down at the sleeping face. Experimentally he tries to will himself to reach a hand out- to touch, at first, or to bind his captor to the bed, perhaps. His body refuses to move. He tries to speak, but no words come.

He's been left with no orders. He doesn't know what to do when he has no orders.

The exorcist stirs on the bed, his skin flushed with fever, and his chin lifts, exposing a fragile, unprotected neck. Mikleo stares at it, hands twitching at his sides, watching a trickle of sweat slide down the arc of the boy's chin. It would only take a minute. The exorcist is so weak like this. Without the tether, he might be able to get away.

You will obey.

His body resists him, immobile for three hours until he surrenders. Quietly he withdraws back into the exorcist’s soul and does nothing for three days.

He's still drifting like that when he feels a tug at his consciousness, when they're elsewhere and alone. The words don't sound like a command - it's not phrased properly for that - but he manifests himself anyway, just in case. The human looks better today. Healthy again, comfortable in his own skin.

He's missed his chance.

“...Do you have orders for me?” he murmurs, quiet and unsure. This is unfamiliar territory. He's not conditioned on how to respond to what he wants or how he feels.

[monolike]

"Huh? No...no orders." Sorey scratches his cheek sheepishly. Do malakhim not like to be called out unless they have orders? Is that why Sorey hardly ever sees them walking around? "I just thought, y'know, the ceremony was kind of rushed. We're going to be traveling together from now on so since I pick up my assignment today, maybe we could walk together? Unless you're tired.]

[nerdeology]

Strange…The way he's phrasing it makes it sound almost like a request. Mikleo tilts his head slightly to one side, trying to comprehend the words, a puzzle left in scattered corners of his clouded mind. Is the exorcist's command that he walk at his side, rather than rest within? Is he expected to be combat-ready at all times?

It's confusing, trying to interpret the words without orders. After several moments of strangled thought he manages, “Malakhim don't require sleep. Command me to walk with you, and I will.”

[monolike]

"I don't really- I'm not ordering you to walk with me..." Sorey mumbles, but it looks like the stories are true. Malakhim really do prefer to take commands. "Do you really not have any preferences? You don't feel anything at all?"

It's hard to swallow, though that's what they've always been taught. It's just that malakhim look so human, Sorey always wondered if just maybe they had different ways of doing things, or different personalities. Maybe when they're made, they have to learn these sorts of things.

[nerdeology]

Slowly, as the words sink in one by one, Mikleo's expression shifts. It's subtle at first, behind the mask- his eyes waver, drifting between the exorcist and the door behind him, tension crossing his cheekbones, and his lips begin to purse. It still doesn't make sense. Why is he being asked questions like this? Why is he being called out with no purpose, no fighting or training to do? What's he here for, if not that?

What does he want from me?

"...I don't... know," he finally murmurs, his gaze drifting downwards, watching his hands clench and unclench, as if the proper response could be found between his fingers. "I-I don't... remember...?"

Did he like things before now? Before... wait, what happened before...?

[monolike]

Some time from now, Sorey will look back on this conversation as the moment when he began to suspect something was wrong. He'll agonize over it, think back to the way the malak's fists curl tight, the way his head bows, beautiful hair brushing the sides of the mask. He'll try desperately to recall the way his voice had tripped over the words, halted and unsure, but still somehow desperate.

Today, all he feels is a twinge of confusion, a hint of something not quite right. If this malak was made just for him, he wouldn't have anything to remember. Right?

"...okay," Sorey says finally, before smiling down at him and resting a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. We'll take things slow, and maybe we can figure it out together. So...would you please walk with me?"

[nerdeology]

Those words are a double-edged sword, one that Mikleo can't quite comprehend or dismantle in his mind just yet, but distantly he's aware of something... unexpected, not wrong but not quite right, either. It's the way that the exorcist touches him - he's not prepared to deal with physical contact, there's nothing in his mental programming that tells him what that means - or the way his lips curve upwards to show an expression the tethered malak can't identify. It's the sound of his voice, gentle, patient, carrying with it a kindness he can't fully recognize.

The hand on his shoulder reminds him of something, an image flickering across his subconscious- of a smiling old man, a weathered hand gently patting his hair, smoke from a pipe tickling his ears. He remembers feeling something. Feeling... happy...?

It's gone in a matter of seconds, and he tries to chase it but he's left empty-handed once more. Still, he feels somehow... lighter. His posture relaxes, and hesitantly he nods his head. "Please walk with me" is unexpectedly polite, but he can interpret it as an order enough to understand it. He'll do as he's ordered.

...He'll- he'll do as he's asked.

[monolike]

It's hard to tell with that mask in the way, but Vahvuus looks a little more contemplative instead of just empty so Sorey will mark that down as a victory. Maybe all he needs is some time and space to think; which Sorey can gladly provide. They'll have lots of opportunity to explore what their partnership means during their assignments, after all.

The walk is largely quiet, with the occasionally one-sided conversation as Sorey points out various landmarks and offers up trivia about them. He knows just about everything there is to know regarding the capital's history, and though he's studied various other cities and towns, there's something different about knowing it and seeing it. "I'm really excited to get out of the capital," Sorey gushes, nudging the malak gently with his elbow. "I don't know about you, but I've been cooped up here my whole life on account of the daemons. But now we'll have the power to exorcise them! We can help people and explore the world! Isn't that neat?"

[nerdeology]

Mikleo - Vahvuus, now, supposedly - glances down, thoroughly confused by the nudging gesture; he's been confused for most of the walk, actually. A malak is meant to be submissive and obedient, so he keeps trying to walk behind his exorcist, but every time he falls back Sorey slows down enough to walk at his side, instead. It's genuinely baffling. He listens intently as Sorey goes on and on about the city, absorbing the information without much in the way of commentary, but it never deters the other from striking up another line of conversation, switching from one landmark or point of interest to the next. The church, the housing near abbey headquarters, the local taverns and restaurants, the fountain. They'd spent a while there, actually- Sorey had gotten excited when he actually mustered up some interest in it while he watched the water flow, endless and crystal clean.

It's so different from what he'd expected, but he doesn't know why he'd expected anything. It isn't as if he's done any of this before.

He mulls over the question for a moment - Sorey asks so many questions, leaving him so frequently at a loss for how to answer - and finally, tentatively, responds, "What's... neat?"

Is cleanliness a part of an exorcist's duties? Or is it a reference to how the world outside will be cleansed by their efforts? No, that doesn't sound right...

[monolike]

Any time Vahvuus expresses anything other than blank acceptance, Sorey latches onto it. It makes sense that he'd show interest in the fountain considering he's a water malak, but he gives him this lingering look whenever he slows down to walk by his side, and even if he's not engaged in the running commentary he's at least not hating it. ...maybe. It's really hard to tell with that mask.

But then! A question!

"Neat? Oh! Umm, it's like cool." ...nope, that won't do it. "It's like, when you find something of interest, or something you like! You can say 'that's neat' or even just 'neat' or 'cool.' Like that!"

[nerdeology]

"Neat... cool..." Vahvuus's voice is quiet as he echoes the words, rolling them around in his mind and letting the definition properly sink in. There's another strange sensation of familiarity, as if it should mean something to him, but just like always it's gone again. Chasing after it never seems to get him anywhere, so he surrenders and focuses back on the now. "Then... yes, it is neat."

He hadn't been allowed to think about it before being tethered, and the weight of that voice continues to push down on him, stifling his ability to do much aside from follow Sorey and respond to his words, but the conversation has forced him outside of the restraints of normal tethered malak behaviour. If he's been commanded to do as the exorcist wishes, then he can't very well ignore questions or a desire for his input, can he?

Well, maybe he can, but he doesn't... want to...? Little by little, the pressure in his head, the clouds around his thoughts, has started to lift.

[monolike]

"Really?" It's the first time Vahvuus has shown any kind of positive association with working with Sorey so yeah, heck yeah, he's excited. "That's...that's really good. That's great!" Sorey stops in his tracks, hopping a couple steps and turning to stand in front of Vahvuus before sticking his hand out. "Here; we didn't actually get to formally meet before, so. Let's do something a little less official! I'm Sorey."

[nerdeology]

Sorey. He didn't know that exorcists were to be called anything but their rank and title. Is he supposed to use that name, now...?

Vahvuus scrutinizes the offered hand for a lengthy moment, and his mouth opens to ask, but then- ah. Something clicks, like a mechanism falling into place. He's seen this before. He's not certain of when, but... he knows this. Knowledge remembered, not given to him at the tethering.

How strange.

He reaches out, hesitates, then glances up at Sorey, his lips pursed into a tight line. "Malakhim are... assigned tools. Are you permitted to act so informally?"

The purpose of his existence is to protect this man. It means he can't allow his own comfort to create problems, surely.

[monolike]

Sorey falters, hand dipping for a moment before he squares his shoulders and lifts it again. "Maybe that's the attitude, but you're speaking to me, aren't you? And you have things you like, and things you don't like. You're not just a-a knife or a sword, so if it's okay...I'd rather think of us as partners." Which is definitely not typical Abbey protocol, but it's not as if he'll get punished for being a weirdo who cares too much about his tools, right? Nobody will care.

[nerdeology]

That's such a casually logical answer that Vahvuus finds it very, very easy to swallow, so after a moment he at last manages to close the distance between them and accept Sorey's offered hand. It's warm, he notices. He's used to the cool consistency of his element, but every time Sorey touches him, those casual pats to his shoulder, or gentle proddings, and now this- warm, every time.

He's not so sure about partners yet, but the idea of not just being a weapon? He likes it. And if he's allowed to like things, then...

"Then... we will be partners."

[monolike]

Vahvuus's fingers are cool, like a deep pond on a summer day; Sorey's smile grows as he clasps them, gently at first (his hand feels almost delicate, so much smaller than his own) then grasping firmly. Partners. Equals. Whatever Vahvuus doesn't understand or still has to learn, Sorey can help him with it, and together they can experience what the world outside the capital has to offer.

"I very much look forward to working with you," Sorey beams, squeezing his hand. "I'm sure we'll be great partners, for many years to come!"

[nerdeology]

The fingers wound around Sorey's twitch slightly at that; the malak's expression doesn't change, but the way his own grip tightens lacks the enthusiasm the other is feeling. He hesitates, those words falling over them like a thick blanket, suddenly suffocating.

Vahvuus doesn't pull away, but there's a slight tug against Sorey's grasp, almost imperceptible.

"Many years...?" is his reply, soft and uncertain. Because it doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter, what he wants or needs is irrelevant and he has no reason for rejecting the idea, but he feels a sudden rush of something heavy and he doesn't want it, not even a little bit.

[monolike]

Oh. Something he said? "Vahvuus?" Sorey asks, his grip loosening. "I mean, Lords forbid anything happen to either of us. Our work will be kind of dangerous, after all."

[nerdeology]

That isn't the right answer, evidently, something that becomes apparent as the seconds tick by and Vahvuus gradually shuts down, that small fragment of energy he'd expressed a moment ago fading away like the glyph of a malak's arte. His fingers drop, hand held up only by Sorey, now.

That's right. That's right- they have work to do, and until one of them dies, they're bound to their duty. They may be partners now, but Sorey can command him to die for the sake of the Abbey at a moment's notice and he would do so, without question.

It doesn't matter. "As you say," he replies, louder this time, but less lively. "Until destroyed or disposed of, this power is yours."

You will obey.

Whatever Sorey might say now, he's an exorcist. His malak is a tool, a weapon, a source for strength. They aren't partners or friends. If that were the case, he wouldn't be chained.

[monolike]

It isn't even entirely just what Vahvuus says that's terrible, though 'until destroyed or disposed of' is alarming enough to hear out of him; it's how he goes blank, how the life he'd just started to show bleeds out and his hand goes limp in Sorey's that really bothers him. It was absolutely something he said, about being together with him for years. But he'd said he found exploring the world with Sorey interesting, didn't he? Did he just not want to think about something bad happening?

"Vahvuus," Sorey starts worriedly, reaching out to touch his shoulder, "are you-"

"Exorcist!" snaps one of Sorey's superiors from inside the office, "how long are you going to wait to fulfill your duty to the people?"

"S-sorry! Coming!" Sorey casts another concerned look at Mikleo before tapping his chest gently. "Do you mind coming inside? You can take a rest while I get everything together."

[nerdeology]

Vahvuus's gaze follows Sorey's hand- first as it moves towards him, then as it retreats, patting his chest. His expression doesn't change, not that Sorey would be able to tell with the mask over half of it. There is no surprise or resistance, only obedience. At Sorey's request - polite order, perhaps - he offers little more than a slight nod and vanishes inside his vessel. Back to his corner, back to his cage. As expected, it... doesn't matter what he feels.

That's a good thing, isn't it? He doesn't even know what he's feeling right now, anyway. All he knows is that he doesn't like it. The weight of that voice presses on him perpetually and while he doesn't resist it, he doesn't welcome the emptiness it brings, either.

Obey, obey. And he will, he does, but this feeling is...

He'll follow their orders, no matter what. Even if he says we're partners, he's just like--

--just like--

...did I know about this... before...?

Something about these thoughts unsettles him, so he pushes them away, waiting quietly in the core of Sorey's soul until he's summoned, attentive but confused. He doesn't know how, but he's identified it at last: this feeling is disappointment.

[monolike]

Destroyed or disposed of.

The exorcist handing him his work orders goes over field procedure with him. Sorey knows most of it already, but there are some things left out in training, and with Vahvuus's odd behavior Sorey can't help but wonder if it was on purpose. It's almost too neat, how this worked out, because as Sorey sits across from the praetor holding his orders in his hands, he is instructed on how to sacrifice his malak only if absolutely necessary.

"We don't exactly have hundreds of replacements at any given moment," the praetor sighs, writing something down even as she explains. "And without a malak you'll be defenseless against daemons, so since you only have the one you must only do it as a last resort."

It just doesn't make sense. Malakhim can speak, can move, can like things; doesn't that make them alive? Why would he kill someone alive just to save himself? "I don't understand," he says slowly. The praetor gives him an annoyed look and just explains procedure again. Vahvuus pulses silent and deadened inside his soul and Sorey clutches the papers to his chest. This is for the sake of humanity. More and more settlements are threatened by daemonblight every day. He must be prepared to do what's necessary to protect himself and the people, as one with resonance, as one of the few capable of fighting daemons. If that means sacrificing his tool, well...even a seasoned soldier will throw aside their blade if it means their survival.

It's what Vahvuus meant.

And Sorey hates it.

It's not until they've long left the city, out in the countryside making camp for the night, that Sorey tugs gently on his connection to Vahvuus to bring him out. They need to talk about this.

[nerdeology]

He's gotten used to that tugging sensation in a surprisingly brief amount of time, recognizing the signs of Sorey desiring his attention. The instructions in his head still tell him he ought to be only summoned by name, ordered out whenever it's time for battle, and that this is wrong, but as usual Sorey goes against all of his expectations. These new rules take some getting used to, but this, at least, is easy to remember.

He orbs out of Sorey's body and stands before him, waiting expectantly. Is Sorey just... going to keep calling him out like this? For conversation? He doesn't understand it at all. He knows now that he has to be prepared to destroy his malak, as any exorcist must. Why would he waste time on a disposable weapon? Even if he's somewhat valuable... even if he's not as easy to replace... he's still ultimately nothing.

It's cemented in place in his mind, carved into his thoughts like text upon a stone (how does he know that?): the life of an exorcist far exceeds that of a malak.

We're nothing. I'm nothing. It's what the voice tells him, even as he waits, confused and unsure, for Sorey to speak.

[monolike]

Now that he's staring at him, Sorey realizes he doesn't even know how he feels about all this. If Vahvuus really is more comfortable keeping their relationship professional, if he would prefer not to become friends with any humans. But does that mean he doesn't want to do this at all? Malakhim are made for this, aren't they?

Sorey swallows down his questions, lacing his fingers in his lap as Vahvuus stands uncomfortably before him. "You can see and hear everything I can, right? Even when you're inside me?"