Well, here's the second of my one-shots! Though, it might actually be a three-shot, but we'll see. This one just explores my version of Sparrow a little bit more. Specifically her silence and the instances where she talks before becoming queen, as those instances were rare yet there.
She hadn't been surprised to learn that an escort was being sent with her rather than another monk, as her father had always been oddly overprotective of her. He never said why and she had never asked, as she was just thankful to have a family. Her escort, however, most certainly did surprise her and made her feel a bit angry at her father. The girl before her was bright-eyed and clearly too young to be sent into such an ancient place - how was this small, thin little girl supposed to protect her? There was no muscle that Hannah could make out and she was rather average in height. The girl had a fairly decent sword, she had to admit - it was a steel one, at least, rather than one of those rusty iron ones. Her gun also wasn't all that bad, though Hannah couldn't tell what kind.
Despite her disbelief when it came to the small girl before her, she didn't make a fuss about her escort. Instead, she chose to complain about the job itself, after making a comment that would normally get some kind of reaction. She needed a judge of this girl's character, after all.
"Ah, I knew my lovely singing voice would bring the crowds," she remarked as she hopped down from the crumbling wall. "I'm Hannah, though people call me Hammer when they think they're being clever. They're not. But I can't do much about it because monks make a solemn vow never to bash anyone's head in."
She was surprised when the young girl, rather than making a comment, made a 'what can you do?' gesture instead. She blinked, raising her eye brow at the lack of comment, but carried on to begin complaining about the jug. She heaved it up, huffing about it as they descended into the cave. Other than an occasional gesture to indicate she was listening, the young girl did not respond to the running commentary. Briefly, Hannah wondered if the girl was mute. At least, until, just before they reached the chamber that led off into three different corridors.
"So... How old are you, anyways? What's your name?" Hannah inquired curiously.
There was a brief pause in the girl's step, as if no one had ever asked her that before. It took her a moment before she replied, "Sparrow. People call me Sparrow. I'm turning seventeen in...a few days."
Her voice took Hannah by complete surprise, almost making her drop the jug. Not only had she gotten an actual answer, but the voice wasn't suitable for such a tiny frame. Rather than being elegant and high, like Hannah had expected (Sparrow was wearing an embroidered day tunic, a signature skirt, and thigh boots, so Hannah had believed the adventurer to be new to her profession as well as middle-class). Instead, Sparrow's voice was a whisper that the echoed far too easily in the cave, a rough scratch to her voice indicating a lack of use. Perhaps, if used enough, she would sound more like a middle-class born girl, but the voice had that odd accent to it, like a Gypsy.
That was the only time Hannah ever heard her young escort's voice. In retrospect, many years later, Hannah wondered exactly why Sparrow rarely spoke. She had once asked Garth if Sparrow had ever spoken to him.
"Never aloud," Garth had commented, but had not elaborated.
She got the feeling that he was uncomfortable with discussing the situation. He had always seem disturbed by Sparrow's silence far more than she was. She wondered what exactly Theresa had talked to him about after sending her away, as he had seemed even more apprehensive when she had returned later. Then again, she hadn't done more than glance his way before Theresa sent her off to search for the Third Hero.
At the time, she had never really thought about Sparrow's silence. Now, she wished she had. She wished she had asked Sparrow about it, wished she had tried harder to get Sparrow to talk more. Now, she would never get the chance to ask Sparrow. Learning that her friend had died had been a blow that Hannah had not expected and she couldn't believe that she had never so much as sent Sparrow a letter. A better friend would have sent a letter, would have checked up on her friend a few times.
"It was a bullet wound, right over her heart. There was no chance for her to call for help, no chance that she would survive," Reaver had said, an odd tone to his voice.
As if he mourned her, as if he might have cared about Sparrow. She couldn't care about that, not anymore, even if it once would have made her roll her eyes. Now, she didn't care if Reaver had or hadn't changed. All that mattered was that she hadn't been there.
"That's the thing about good-byes. You'll never know which is the last one. You'll never know if you'll get another one."
She had said that to Sparrow once. She couldn't remember if she had told her father good-bye the day he died, the morning he died. She did remember her last words to Sparrow, however.
"It's not like I'm leaving much behind. Well, except...except for the greatest friend I ever had."
Sparrow had been the greatest friend she'd ever had, even if there was silence. In her own way, she had said good-bye. It had been the last good-bye she ever said to Sparrow, even though she had been certain they would meet again.
Sparrow had survived Lucien, only for someone to shoot her in the heart. Anger boiled in Hannah's blood.
"I vow to you, my friend. I will find the one who killed you and I will bring them to justice," Hannah swore to a sky full of stars. "You helped avenge my father when you killed Lucien, so it's only right I avenge you now."
She ignored the nagging sensation in the back of her mind and the whisper on the wind. She ignored the figure at the edge of her vision. Her friend was gone and it was someone's fault. She would bring that person to justice, even if it took the rest of her life to accomplish.
As Hannah walked away, the vague shadow of a sorrowful blue-eyed girl appeared where she had been standing.
"Revenge is meaningless, Hannah. Do not let it do to you what it did to me."
Those were the words written inside of a letter that had been given to Hannah by Reaver, a letter from Sparrow. A letter left on the ground, unopened and unread. Hannah's temper remained the way it always had.
Well, this was short. But it was meant to be. Just a small reflection from Hannah/Hammer. I am tempted to make this one a string of a one-shots from each of the other character's reflection on Sparrow's silence. Not sure yet. If I do, the other characters will be Reaver, Garth, Theresa, and Rose, but not necessarily in that order. I would do Lucien, but there isn't enough interaction between Sparrow and Lucien for him to take note of her silence.
