Mythos
Chapter Two
le·ga·to
adverb or adjective \li-ˈgä-(ˌ)tō\
music : in a manner that is smooth and flowing
Italian, literally, tied
"What is your name?" He had asked.
"I...have none!" I had replied.
It had begun very poorly, but for a long while, that was the happiest day of my life.
I remember the first time I saw Him. The late afternoon desert sun wreathing His head in golden light. He stood there before me, as perfect as a statue, a body hewn from marble, His eyes cutting into my slight form. He was an angel of vengeance sadly out of place on this forsaken planet. I can truly say that I had never understood the meaning of perfection before that moment. He all at once gave me my freedom and a purpose and in time, a name. Legato. I have always treasured my name for it fell from His lips into me.
Sometimes in quiet moments I wonder why He spared me that day. He often must remind me that I live only so long as I am useful. But what conceivable use could He have figured for me then? Did He in His infinite wisdom see in the eyes of a child the will to carry out His own will?
Life at His side then was a fancy taken from a dream. A haze of death followed Him and began to follow me. How many would I kill just for His smile? How many would I selfishly slaughter just for a moment of His notice? I gladly placed humanity on the altar of my devotion.
At July I nearly lost my mind. Conrad and I were headed east five miles outside of July when we saw it. A blinding flash of white light to our backs. A loud, echoing boom and a wave of heat that swept over the back of my neck. When I turned around the light obliterated my senses and all thought. When my vision returned a moment later I realized I was on my back and when my thoughts came crashing back down the first thing that flitted through my mind was Him. By the time we made it to the ruins of the city, worry had had time to birth all kinds of horrible scenarios in my mind but even so I was wholly unprepared for reality. A vast expanse of flat land spread out before me where July had been. I looked up at the sky like a bowl over the empty space. I looked down and He, or one half of Him, lay upon the ground. From what seemed like a great distance I heard Conrad call for my help and in my panic I fell heavily to my knees and gathered up His viscera desperately. It slid over my pale hands, His blood staining my skin, the scent of it seeping into my lungs permanently and all the while screams tearing from my throat. And then He turned to me and addressed me. Life was seeping from Him and He still addressed me. At that moment despite everything a feeling of warmth settled in my chest.
Later when I understood that it was His own brother who had done this to Him, a feeling of rage such as I have never known suffused my being and I have made sure it will never leave, stoking it with secret thoughts and dark desires. My Master's brother can never repent for that sin. I long for him to suffer for the wrongness of his actions. Mine is the anger of the righteous. Perhaps that is why…
At Jeneora Rock I committed the greatest sin. It was not wanting to kill His own brother, who has caused my Master such pain. I hear it in His voice. I see it in His face. No, my sin is, I am ashamed to admit, that in my vanity I imagined myself to be enough for Him. But I learned that day, as He punished my pride, as bone cracked and blood spilled, that even the sacrifice of my whole existence is forever insufficient.
The first time He sullied Himself with my flesh I wept bitterly alone all night. What pains of the flesh He had left me with were a bounty, the insufferable feeling was in knowing that I had tempted Him. Like a filthy spider, how long had I been spinning my web? What was worse, I enjoyed the experience and longed for it again. I relished the closeness to Him. I have always known that other humans desire me, that I am attractive. I had that knowledge burned into my very skin as a child. But never did I in my blasphemy consider myself a treasure until He touched me.
It was a pleasure so intense as to push the edge of pain. Searing pleasure. So intense that I swear I felt damnation at my back. To feel His weight on top of me, His strong hands around my neck quickened my blood in a way nothing else can, not even killing in service to Him. It was nothing like the touch of man I had endured so many times before in the past. And when He had done with me and we parted I felt a dearth in my bones. I understood from that day the purpose of fleshly being and if He calls me to worship, I will. On my back, on my knees in service to this incomparable entity.
I know that others call me a slave, but I am truly free, for I have seen the truth made flesh.
July.
Knives watched as Dr. William Conrad removed the patches and wires from Vash's arm. This was the precipice of the future. The beginning of the end. If Vash's "gate" was actually greater than his own…Knives didn't feel challenged. Instead a warm sense of brotherly pride filled his chest.
Conrad turned to him slowly.
"Knives, I don't like this. You two haven't spoken for nearly a century. Perhaps it would be best to take things slow and—"
"What business is it of yours?" Knives cut in. "You've served your purpose for now. I don't need you here anymore."
Conrad allowed silence to fill the room for a moment while he chose his next words carefully.
"I understand that," he began. "All I mean to say is that it is highly likely that Vash will be disoriented when he wakens and unreceptive to any tutelage about his…gift."
Knives stood up and walked to Vash's side.
"Take Legato. There is a satellite city not too far east of here. Wait for my word from there," he addressed Conrad in a tone that brooked no argument, eyes still trained on his twin.
Conrad sagged and walked to the door before turning around again.
"Knives—"
"I told you to go," Knives said in a low, deadly voice.
After Conrad retreated upstairs, Knives spent several minutes studying Vash's prone form. His eyes traced the many scars. They told a story of pain and shame. He could barely imagine each instance that had led to a new mark upon his brother's skin. Each beating, each laceration, each blasphemy against his brother. This was the price to live among them. It was the most incontrovertible proof that humanity was a scourge. Could Vash still deny his logic? No. Knives would talk and Vash would listen and everything would be as it was before. Before Knives had shouldered the burden of exterminating the human race alone. He remembered being in the control room of the SEEDS ship and engineering the Big Fall. He had never taken a life before and in his nervousness he had begun to chew on his thumb, willing himself to do what he had to do. He knew then that Vash didn't have the will to do what was necessary. He didn't notice the absent-minded gnawing until he had chewed clean through to the bone, and a sharp pain and a throbbing warmth shot through his arm. He had stared at the offending digit with a look of horror as the warmth traveled up his arm and coalesced in the tip of his thumb and bloomed into the form of a great long knife.
That had been his introduction to the angel arm. But Vash's would be different. He would make sure that Vash's experience would be nothing but the sublime sensation of the flow of energy from his being into the world and once Vash understood the power he possessed, an inhuman power, his true nature as a plant, then Vash would be forced to kneel to Knives's vision.
"We will cleanse this place of humanity together...one way or another," Knives whispered.
Soon after, he climbed the stairs to the surface of the old house. The murmuring of a solitary voice from the floor above caught his attention.
"…crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was the bony thing my friend and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we had seen it then, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair,…"
Juno's voice drifted softly to his ears. From the cadence of her voice it seemed she was reading aloud. When he pushed the door open he beheld Juno doing of all things reading to a soundly sleeping Legato.
Knives sauntered through the doorway as he kept his eyes fixed on the pair. Legato had long since lapsed into slumber, lying in gentle repose with his head in Juno's lap. She didn't pat his head reassuringly or show any other affection; she knew that it would only upset this boy who had often been the object of unwanted touches. And watching them Knives was reminded that despite his "technique," Legato was still very much a boy.
"…and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound …"
Knives stood in front of the pair stoically, but oddly in a way unique to him that demanded full attention, and Juno finally closed the book and looked up. He immediately captured her gaze and it seemed to her that he was in an unusually good mood. At least the usually poised plant's fingers twitched in seeming anticipation.
"Conrad's testing is complete. Vash is still unconscious but he will wake soon and I will be there," he said simply.
"I suppose you two have a great deal to discuss," replied Juno.
An uncomfortable silence passed between them.
"What are you going to do with him?" Juno said finally.
Knives sighed and stepped forward slowly into the room and leaned slightly against the mantle, eyes darkening in deep thought.
"That will depend entirely on him."
Their voices stirred Legato, who, realizing his proximity to Juno, sat up immediately. The boy stretched like a lazy cat and then proceeded to alternate between averting his eyes from Knives and sneaking glances of him, as he always did in Knives's presence. Juno wondered if Legato hoped Knives would notice his glances and punish him. If so he must have been disappointed because Knives ignored him and continued to stare at an unidentified spot on the floor.
"Why is the whelp still here?" asked Knives suddenly. Legato's eyes brightened a bit.
"Oh," replied Juno, "Wilhelm went out to procure a pair of toma. They'll be leaving shortly. And I'm headed north I suppose." One corner of her mouth turned up in a small smirk before she added, "Unless you'd like me to knock out your brother again and drag him somewhere else."
Knives regarded her icily and said, "You will go north to the Eye of Michael where you will submit to testing." Juno shifted in her seat but said nothing.
"You're learning to do as you're told," added Knives in a satisfied tone.
Knives quietly retreated to the basement again and Conrad swung open the front door. He looked at Legato.
"Alright. Let's go."
Legato swept past Conrad out the open door and the older man said goodbye to Juno and turned to leave.
"Wilhelm," Juno called after him in a low voice.
Conrad turned around with raised eyebrows. Juno fixed him with a hard stare and a frown.
"Is your curiosity satisfied yet?" she asked disapprovingly.
"Is yours?" he quipped before walking outside, closing the door behind him.
A/N: The story that Juno reads to Legato is H.P. Lovecraft's "The Hound."