Title: Too Quiet
Series: Witch Hunter
Characters: Aria; Varete
Rating: G
Summary: Aria is disappointed.
Notes/Warnings: I don't own Witch Hunter, blah blah blah. Takes place pre-series. Slight incestual subtext.
When the rush of mana fades and the dust begins to settle, Aria finds herself shaking. Lakeville's smoldering remains are a different picture than the last few towns she razed, mostly for their spectral quiet. This time, there are no survivors to fill the silence with anguished screams, no plaintive cries rising from mounds of rubble. It scares her. She wills Aegis' disks to her sides, savoring the mechanical whirr as they glide into place.
Her supporter cannot speak. Aegis is a machine, after all; without her mana supply its saucers would be no more sentient than kitchenware. The most obedient supporters often are, Varete once said, for the mindless cannot rebel.
They cannot love, either.
Aria wraps her arms around herself, suddenly conscious of the weight of her limbs and her heart and her memories. She wills Aegis into the jumble of wood, stone and corpses, just to be rid of it. As they disappear into the debris, gleaming in the gloam, she curses its mindless subservience. Aria doesn't need its loveless devotion. She needs human kindness and the warmth of a touch, of his touch, of Tasha's—
A ripple in the atmosphere. Aria tenses, straightening like a bowstring pulled taut. Aegis speeds back to her side. Could it be? She focuses on the mana signature, attempting to put a name to the energy.
Varete.
Aria relaxes, too exhausted for disappointment. Levelling Lakeville and dispatching a fresh squad of WHs cost more time and mana than she cares to admit. Now the earth grows cold and dark, and she can't tell whether she trembles from mana withdrawal or the bitter autumn chill.
She closes her eyes, gathers her wits. Varete will arrive to collect her soon, and Aria shouldn't like to be seen so disturbed. Varete would scold her for it later, probably, once they've hung up their hats, using those soft liquid tones reserved for her chambers. 'Miss Aria should not leave the fortress alone,' she'll say, as though she's a wandering child and not the legendary Red Witch.
Varete draws closer, closer, closer still. She's already standing before her when Aria's eyes open next, the Abyss' inky tendrils curling up from her shadow. Affecting nonchalance, Aria steps towards her, noting the tension between Varete's angled brows.
"Miss Aria. You know you aren't to leave unattended."
Aria shrugs, Aegis' disks settling by her shoulders like a pair of tame birds. "Just take me home," she says, a quiver in her voice and the cores of her bones. Varete lifts an arm, expression cold, and the Abyss' black ribbons rise to encase them both.
As the dark closes in, Aria steals one final glance at Lakeville's remains and brands them into her memory.
"There's nothing for me here, anyway."