Shay told him, once, that there were other planets like the Balmera that lived and breathed and provided for its people. Borrea wasn't quite at that level of complete synchronicity, but Hunk was sure that a few million years of evolution could definitely change that.
The populace of Borrea had evolved from the energy given by the planet itself. The flora and fauna of the planet had slowly adjusted to the planet's life-giving energy and had grown sentient. Though, according to one of the priests, it was uncertain whether their sentience was the same as that of the planet itself or that of an existence entirely separate.
That was some pretty deep thinking, for a tree.
The tree in question was a very masculine character. Masculine in the traditional sense of course, because the Borreans were not a gendered species. Priest Cesil was a creature with a short, stout build. He stood the shortest of all the Borrean Priests, made so from a "sky strike" when he was still a child. His gnarled branches were thick and shook leaves every time he coughed, which he did often. (1) (2)
"Can I get you anything?" asked Hunk.
Priest Cesil blew away a stray leaf that lingered in his face as it fell from a branch. "Don't bother with this old bark, Paladin," he said. "I've been coughing since I were a sprout. No trouble is it to me now."
"Oh. Okay." Hunk glanced at the foodstuffs on the table regardless, with the hopes of spotting any refreshments that might relieve the old priest. But he wasn't Borrean, so all that he saw turned his stomach over instead of enticing it. "Do you guys always eat like that?" he asked, genuinely curious to discover what exactly was the usual appetite of the Borreans.
"Quite often," was the depressing answer. "All that is seen are the best tidings for Borrea. Though, lacking are we in the Brissinger." (3)
"What's the Brissinger?"
Priest Cesil pointed one of his branches to the center of the clearing, where a circle of stones lay on the ground and not a single soul had stepped near it. "An open pit, where we douse the remains of the dead in holy flames."
Hunk's eyebrows shot up. His eyes bounced back and forth from the quiet, sickly Priest to the innocuous circle of stones. "That's cool," he just said. "Uh, so. Is that, uh. A thing that you do often? Party hard in a place where you honor your dead?"
Priest Cesil spread his branches wide, as if holding his arms out, and faced the clearing. "Alglé is a sacred grove. Here remain the spirits of all Borreans, no matter how long gone our bark may be. And here, connected are we with our Borrea. We celebrate the success of the third orbit around Thion in memory of our people, and in gratitude of the great life given to us by our Borrea."
Great pride shook in Priest Cesil's voice. He was looking at the gathering of his people with honored delight, the sharp contours of his face smoothing from his kindly expression. Hunk admired that look, at the way the priest seemed so satisfied in the knowledge that he and all his people were connected to a great spirit.
He wanted to protect that faith.
"I think," Hunk laid his hand flat against the bark of Priest Cesil's forehead, a common gesture of respect in the Borrean culture, "that's a beautiful way to honor Borrea."
Priest Cesil shook with pride. And his cough. They were harsh-sounding fits that spiked worry despite what Priest Cesil had said.
"Are you sure you don't need anything? Water, maybe?"
Priest Cesil laughed. "Water is for the ill. What I am in need of is amhrán cogadh na Atonas." (4)
Hunk raised a brow. "Pardon?"
"The War Song of Atonas. Our second phase!" Priest Cesil cried. "Only a warrior is permitted to initiate it. Our war song follows the song of Borrea. It is our pledge of unity with Borrea."
"Oh." Hunk made a noise of understanding. He recalled the way the celebration had begun, with the ritual cutting of tables with swords and participants belting out the lyrics to Ode to the Great Tree. "How do you start it?"
"Why, the same way we sang Ode to the Great Tree! You raise your arms high up," Priest Cesil moved his branches to stretch up high, "Then, you must strike another warrior and cry — For Borrea!"
Hunk watched as the old priest executed an upward sword thrust at the air with one of his low branches. He garnered interested looks, but none of whom were warriors in the way of Borrea. Hunk recalled the way the opening ceremony had begun. It was very much like what the priest had described. Prince Sequoiden had thrust out his sword, slashed into a table, and declared his devotion to Borrea as the rest of the Borreans congregated around to do the same and belt out the lyrics to Ode to the Great Tree.
He was about to ask about the origin of these customs when his earpiece crackled with Shiro's voice.
"Guys? It's me. I need backup."
Keith replied first with urgency in his tone. "What happened? Where are you?"
Worry started to churn in Hunk's gut. "Is everything okay?" He lowered his mic and tuned to Priest Cesil. "Sorry. I gotta take this," he said, quickly rubbing the lowest branch of Priest Cesil in a proper farewell before they could part. Hunk was five steps into the crowd when he spotted Shiro's uniform amongst the walking, talking trees. Shiro stuck out like a sore thumb. "I see you," he said. "I'm coming over."
"Why is Lance talking to King Sequoya's advisor?"
Immediately, Hunk zeroed in on Lance. Allura mussed Lance's hair and was now talking with Lady Adelay, King Sequoya's most trusted advisor. Who was a very young, attractive, humanoid creature.
And Lance was standing in front of her, one hand at his hip and the other gesturing vaguely in the air.
Oh, no, he thought with dread. What was Lance getting himself into this time?
"Pidge. Explain." Shiro's voice sounded strained, no doubt worrying the same thing as Hunk was.
"Uhhhh, about what? That she's the reason Borrea isn't colonized? Prince Sequoiden has the biggest crush on her, by the way. Which means Lance should hop the fuck off if he doesn't wanna throw us all into the Borrean circle of hate."
Oh, no, he thought again, this time with urgency. They couldn't have another planet hate on them for a grave misunderstanding like that again.
Hunk narrowed his eyes on his friend. Sorry, buddy, he apologized in his head. "On it," he stated clearly into the mic, mind already diving deep into his conversation with Priest Cesil.
"Keith, wait—"
"…I didn't say anything."
Hunk ignored the exchange in favor of raising both arms high up. He had no idea if he was even doing it right, but judging by the way the Borreans were quickly quieting down around him and brimming with excitement he figured he was doing alright.
Then, he charged forward.
Somehow, the Borreans must have sensed that he was heading for Lance, because they cleared the way for him quickly and smoothly. A single path opened up in the crowd, one that lead directly to Lance, and Hunk let his own brew of excitement stream out of him with a loud, battle-ready cry.
He saw Lance turn to look his way. Saw Lance's look of cheery recognition morph quickly into baffled horror once Hunk was close enough and still charging like a rhino. Hunk didn't stop for anything. He tucked his chin in, lowering his head, and headbutted Lance right in the stomach.
"Oh my goodness! Hunk?!" he heard Allura scream.
Then, Hunk caught Lance's unconscious form and tossed him right over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Just as he had seen Prince Sequoiden do earlier that evening, Hunk pumped a fist in the air and shouted, "FOR BORREA!"
All around him was the sound of ringing steel and a fierce, echoing cry of, "FOR ATONAS!"
Someone tried to jab him in the side and Hunk easily evaded him with a side-step. The poor Borrean was heading against Allura now, who swift turned and knocked the young soldiers to his feet.
"Hunk!" Allura screamed, eyes alight with fire. "What were you thinking?!"
Hunk would've responded, but the Borreans had swarmed around him. He was cast away by a sea of soldiers. The next time he looked up at where Allura was, she and the witch lady were both gone.
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END NOTES:
(1) Inspiration for Priest Cesil's name comes from the Sessile Oak trees in Ireland. Oak groves were considered sacred in Celtic mythology.
(2) The "sky strike" is referring to a meteor shower.
(3) Brissinger is inspired by "brisingr," which is an old Norse word for "fire." It's also the name of Eragon's sword in the Inheritance series.
(4) Literally means "War Song of Atonas." Atonas is influenced by "aontas," which is the Gaelic word for "union."
