Eeeyyy guys! Long time no see! :D
-ACT II-
Chapter 14
Being the foster father of an angel was weird, Lyndon concluded.
The last few weeks had been both strange and quite uneventfully, by the mercy of whatever gods were out there. It had been strange because of two things. First, Johanna seemed to have lost their track somehow. Both Lyndon and Quiet had been on the verge of collapsing after their miserable night at Kingsport, they could barely get to the next small town with an inn, before passing out for over a day. Yet, not only did the Crusader and her group not kick their room's door down and slaughtered them in their sleep, nobody in the village even saw them. Maybe Johanna did not assume that they would stop at such an insignificant place?
Lyndon could only hope.
The second strange thing was Quiet's sudden growth. The angel, as always, seemed more energetic with the buzzing of life around him, even his injuries healed faster. Noticing that, Lyndon had decided to stay a bit longer in Duncraig, their next destination after the little nameless village. It was a bigger town with a somewhat busier life, and Quiet seemed to enjoy it. After his wounds sealed, the little angel suddenly gained height, and not even a small amount at that: before, he was barely around 70-80 centimeters, but almost over a few days he grew to around 110 centimeters, quickly outgrowing his old clothes and the backpack which he used to travel in. The red gems in his wings became more prominent, his white hair longer, the little golden wings on his tiara more detailed and somewhat larger, their "feathers" turning into that same red ruby as the center. Why and how this happened exactly, Lyndon had no idea whatsoever.
Also, Quiet seemed to have developed some kind of illusion or mirage around himself, as literally everyone who saw them, assumed he was a child.
- Such a beautiful son you have, mister! – one such nice lady commented to them on the streets. – And that hair! If I didn't know it was blonde, I would say it was gold! Marvelous.
Quiet seemed just as confused as Lyndon but they quickly figured it was for the best, and didn't question their stroke of luck. Lyndon bought a new set of clothes to his charge, similar to his old ones, as well as a larger backpack. He had found one that could be folded to be smaller or bigger, depending on the need, and quickly switched to it from that old shaggy thing he had been dragging around.
With those things taken care of, and feeling rested at long last, the pair set out towards Westmarch. Johanna was still nowhere to be seen or heard of, which caused them to take on a more leisurely pace. During the travels, Lyndon began teaching Quiet all kinds of things. The little angel's ability to mimic sounds improved and his knowledge of the language grew rapidly, even if it was still not perfect. Lyndon also began teaching him other skills, such as climbing, sneaking, and basic combat with a dagger.
He also tried to oversee the developing weird powers of the angel as much as he could. Quiet was carefully but adamantly testing out his abilities, twisting every nearby object into different shapes and even materials. At first he quickly tired out and took long naps in Lyndon's new backpack, but as he practiced more and more, his stamina grew as well as his grasp on his powers.
Lyndon too practiced his own abilities. He had no idea how to cause that abnormal strength to show up, so he mostly focused on teleportation, or blink, or whatever the hell to call that. It too drained him of strength at first, but eventually he built up some resistance to it. His aim was garbage though. Constantly missing his target, sometimes by a few meters, sometimes he ended up a good 10-minute walk away from the destination. Once he tried to blink to the top of a nearby tree and instead smacked face-first into the trunk, breaking a tooth in the process. Thankfully Quiet was pretty good at his own magic by then, and he managed to regrow it for him. Landing on his feet was another problem. Lyndon always staggered after blinking, and if the ground was not perfectly flat, he often fell over even. The direction in which he was facing after blinking was weird too. Sometimes he kept his original pose, sometimes he arrived looking in a completely different direction and it left him disoriented. He had no idea what caused this, or how to control it.
- How the hell do mages make it look so easy?! – he grumbled angrily as he peeled himself up from the mud yet again from a failed attempt at trying to blink across a smaller stream.
Quiet chuckled slightly at the sight and promptly grew a bridge of pure ground across the water, crossing it with ease.
- Show-off – Lyndon snorted at his charge.
- Leendonn, you funny – Quiet laughed.
His pronunciation was getting better, but for some reason, he refused to let go of "Leendonn". The scoundrel didn't really mind it, to be honest, he had gotten used to it long ago.
The almost unfamiliar peace that has settled onto them was greatly welcomed, as neither really escaped Kingsport's terror. Quiet often woke with a start in the middle of the night, screeching, trying to escape from Zaboul's charge into Lyndon's hug. The scoundrel himself fell sullen, silent and smiled very little. Mostly he just felt somber and indifferent with no actual reason, sometimes at night he couldn't sleep because his mind kept going back to the monstrous bitch Rea had become and the words she had spewed from her half-cut-through neck. Other times, he remained awake because of the nightmares as well. He kept on thinking whether Kingsport's terror really was his fault. Could he be held responsible, just because he fell in love with that young lady at that ball all those years ago? Or maybe he should have seen the signs before it all went to hell?
A part of Lyndon knew that no matter how logically he could refute these questions, a small sense of doubt and guilt would always remain in him. Maybe he really is responsible. Maybe he should have seen the signs. In order to distract himself from these thoughts, he finally began reading Cain's codex. Every night, as they got ready to make camp and go to sleep, Lyndon would pull it out and read certain sections over, mostly what caught his eye. Sometimes he also used it to teach Quiet how to read.
- A—aaaa-Au-ll—rriel – the little angel mumbled, struggling with one of the titles. – Ark—Arch…
- Archangel of Hope – Lyndon gently helped him, reading things out loud while following along with his finger on the paper. – "Auriel is the most beloved of all angels. It is she who leads the sweet chorus of the High Heavens. She is said to be at the center of this chorus and to be the most lighthearted member of the Angiris Council".
Quiet absentmindedly placed a small hand on the opposite page with a drawing, lost deep in thought. Lyndon had to admit, as he poured over all the illustrations, that Deckard was an amazing drawer. He could capture scenes and beings in the most prominent form. His illustrations about the Greater Evils were so detailed, Quiet was clearly distressed by them (Mephisto especially scared him, strangely), so Lyndon quickly jumped to the topic of the High Heavens, to calm his charge down. Here, the illustrations were clearly guesswork: why they looked quite impressive, Cain could not possibly know how they really looked like. Auriel's drawing was far from the truth too: it was clearly a female angel, but her armor didn't match, she had a helmet and Al'maiesh was worn like a scarf.
- Pretty – Quiet said softly, stroking the picture.
- She is even more beautiful in real life – Lyndon nodded, smiling ever so slightly. – Did you know I met her? I helped rescuing her once!
Quiet tilted his head at the scoundrel, eyes wide and curious.
- There was this big demon. Really huge, and ugly as sin – Lyndon went on gesturing widely. – I, Johanna, Kormac and Eirena fought it with all we've got. I danced around, trying to evade its vicious strikes, while I've blinded him with the dust a dozen times. Eventually we beat it, and managed to rescue Auriel from the prison the demon made for her.
- Auriel fine?
- Thankfully she was. And she was also very grateful. She even gave us her blessing.
- Leendonn, you a-are strong! – Quiet purred contently, snuggling closer to his charge.
- My blinding powder did save the others from a horrible injury occasionally, that is true – Lyndon patted him on the head.
When Quiet was sleeping, Lyndon would often read sections about the demons and the Burning Hells, not even knowing what he was looking for. Zaboul maybe? He couldn't find him in the book. He might have been looking for a possible explanation for Johanna's madness. Did one of the Evils, or the Prime Evil itself, possessed her?! Lyndon could only utter a soft prayer that was not the case. He wasn't sure he… or Sanctuary for that matter… could handle the fate of yet another Leah. That loss had been far too painful already.
- "Sanctuary, the Mortal Realm" – Lyndon mumbled under his breath as one night he was yet again reading instead of sleeping. – "Inarius and the Worldstone."
Huh… wasn't this "Worldstone" thing what made the ancient Nephalem's children weak, according to Cain? And with its destruction now new Nephalem could arise.
The scoundrel sighed. He still couldn't really fully believe that. Maybe he was just a mystic, or a mortal gifted with a kind of magic.
Refocusing on the book, he noted the odd picture on the opposite page: it showed a majestic male angel (face hidden in the usual hood of course) with a hideous female demon, strangely in a loving embrace instead of locked in combat. Oh yeah, Cain and Tyrael spoke of this as well: angels and demons actually fell in love once Sanctuary had been created, and their kids were the first Nephalem.
- "It is difficult for my mind to fully grasp, but the legends tell us that Inarius and Lilith fell in love. Incredibly that single alliance would alter the course of the war, of reality itself—indeed, of all existence. Inarius and Lilith both pledged themselves to the other and vowed to escape the Eternal Conflict."
Oh, what a man would not do for a pretty face at times, Lyndon smirked to himself. He looked over the pair again. He could imagine the angel actually loving the demon, since those beings really were capable of such emotions. Afterall, Tyrael literally plunged face-first into mortality (and into the catacombs of an old cathedral in the meantime) when he was ordered to keep himself away from humanity. Giving the middle finger to that jerk Imperius, and the entire Council in such a spectacular way… Lyndon, as a man who didn't really follow most regulations either, could respect that greatly. But the demoness… could demons actually love anything besides power and the suffering of others? Were they really capable of that, especially a monster who was apparently the kid of Hatred itself (however that had happened)? Lyndon's sense, honed by years of experience in womanizing, tingled with suspicion. What if Lilith only used Inarius' love to get what she wanted… maybe that Worldstone thing even? If the scoundrel really had to be honest, he himself had used this very tactic countless times in the past.
Great, even more reasons for him to feel like shit.
Lyndon wistfully reminisced, as he closed the book and put it away, of the siege of Bastion's Keep, when they were finally bringing the fight to Azmodan himself. Lyndon had declared back then that he would stop with every sinful hobby and be "straight and narrow" from now on. It was just spectacular how much he had failed in that promise. Sure, he left his womanizer ways behind completely, but he still couldn't stop himself from pickpocketing the occasional unsuspecting bystander in those last towns they had been in. He had always made sure, though, to only target rich-looking people. The poor had enough to worry about, anyway.
- Maybe I should straighten myself out completely – he mumbled, glancing down at the peacefully sleeping Quiet.
Lyndon couldn't believe he was bringing an angel up. How surreal was that? Still, he realized he was indescribably grateful for having the small being of light around in these dark times, no matter what happened. Back in Kingsport, when he had seen Quiet so beaten up, that was when he realized just how much he cared about this little child.
Placing a quick kiss on the top of the angel's head, Lyndon too finally snuggled into his makeshift bed and drifted to sleep.
oooOOOooo
Servita, a simple agricultural town located close to Bramwell, had always been under the rule of a larger noble family, and it showed: it had no market to speak of, most people going to the lord's own land or to Bramwell for trade, and no inn either. The best it could offer was a pub, which was fine with Lyndon who didn't really plan to stay her either. He had planned to stop for a short breather, then go straight to Bramwell. Worse come to worst, they would sleep one more time in the wild between the two towns. With Johanna off their backs for some reason, that wasn't much of a bad news, really.
The pub was the largest building in town, and it still managed to look like a stable at best. Lyndon was actually impressed it was still standing with the condition it was in.
- Wat's a "pup"? – Quiet asked as they walked towards it, hand in hand.
- Pub – Lyndon corrected him. – It is a place where grown-ups go to drink alcohol, have a chat and relax a bit. Although it can be very dangerous, especially when some drink too much alcohol and get drunk. Fights can break out then over the smallest things.
Quiet looked back at the building with a small frown. Lyndon glanced at his charge, picking up on his disapproval. It was strange, lately Quiet seemed to be incredibly critical towards humans and the scoundrel had no idea where this came from. He would have to be careful to keep that in check.
Lyndon silently uttered a grateful prayer for the angel's mirage as they stepped inside the building and pretty much nobody paid any mind to them. There were few people inside to begin with: it was the middle of the day and most patrons were probably still working on the fields. Only two men sat the tables that were farthest from each other, one of them looking like the resident alcoholic of the village.
- Eyyy, nice boyy ya got there – the man slurred at them. – Ya gonna sell him as a he-whore?
Lyndon didn't even look in his direction as he gently guided Quiet to the counters.
- Shut the hell up, Bert – barked the barkeeper.
- I m—mean it. Boy looks like a lovely sex d-doll – Bert went on, grinning from ear to ear. – Ya gotta start'em young.
Lyndon's eyes flashed up in green at this. Slavery, especially sex slavery was a subject he had always loathed with his entire being. Even back in his womanizer ways, he had made sure to only go to women who chose this profession on their own accord.
- I said shut up!
- I can ffind a good be—bidder, mate. 50-50 on the price, waddayasay?
Lyndon gently set the confused Quiet up onto one of the bar chairs, then not even thinking completely through what he was planning, he flashed onto the alcoholic's table, glaring down at him with his blazing green eyes, boots firmly planted on the wooden surface. Lyndon grabbed the hiccupping wreck by the collar of his ragged shirt and lifted him with one arm as if he weighted nothing.
- You will not talk about my son that way, you wretch – he said in a dangerously cool voice, his free hand tucked away in one of his pockets as if he was making a small talk.
- I told you to shut up – the bartender mumbled disapprovingly.
- I will break every last bone in your body if you utter a single more word, do you understand? – Lyndon said.
- S-sure, mate – Bert managed to choke out, helplessly grabbing at the arm that held him captive.
Lyndon forcefully set him back down on his seat, then flashed again, arriving perfectly onto the bar stool, facing the bartender. The green fire extinguished in his eyes, and he asked for a beer.
- Leendonn, you smarrrt – Quiet blinked up to him happily. – What is "sson"?
- A son is the male child of an adult – Lyndon explained readily. – Why do you ask?
-… You said "son" to the ugly huuman.
Wait, he did?!
Lyndon blinked, his brain finally fully processing everything. He did refer to Quiet as his son! Not only that, but he perfectly executed two flashes and produced yet another moment of supernatural strength.
Weird.
- I'm…
- Here you go, mate – grumbled the bartender and finally handed him the flask of beer.
- Bert's a regular here? – Lyndon asked nonchalantly, holding the cup for Quiet to sniff it, smiling slightly at the angel's grimace.
- Aye, poor idiot – the bartender shook his head. – He lost his field when Lord Bayor decided to build a hunting palace atop it. Couldn't stand back up on his feet since then, as you can see.
- He isn't really making an effort – Lyndon commented.
- Under this noble's rule? I cannot blame him – the bartender snorted. – Feels like nothing we do really matters all that much. We never know when that asshole decides to play king.
- Amiable fellow, that Lord Bayor.
- His father had been a good man, may he rest in peace. But the brat's no true noble or leader. Unpredictable idiot, I say. Not a month ago, the whole village had to play circus for him and a couple of guests in his court. It was a disaster.
Lyndon didn't want to deal with it, he really didn't. But an old habit inside him woke up, and he just couldn't withstand the temptation.
- So this Bayor fellow… he lives nearby? – he asked nonchalantly.
- Aye, just follow the widest road out of the village and you get there – the bartender waved at the door. – Why?
- Oh, just making sure to avoid him once we leave here.
- Wise decision, sonny. You're better off not knowing him at all.
Lyndon nodded as a thanks and glanced at Quiet, who was busy making the wooden plank of the counter sprout new sprigs with buds. The scoundrel gently petted him on the head as a mute warning, before quickly finishing his beer and paying for it.
- Leendonn? – Quiet asked as they stepped out onto the streets once more.
- Yes?
- What is "ssekkss"?
Lyndon needed a moment of pure concentration in order to stop himself from marching back inside and punching that alcoholic wreck through the wall for this one.
- It's, uhm… an adult-thing. You don't need to worry about it – he quickly said, dragging Quiet along. – Now… how about we go on a short adventure tonight, hm?
- Adventure?
- We will trick some mean humans and make sure they don't even see us.
Quiet excitedly flapped his wings behind his cape.
It's good to be back! Thank you everyone for your patience! Although this update would have gone up a whole lot earlier, but for some godforsaken reason, the website did not allow me to upload ANYTHING here. Can't say whether it was something on my end or theirs, but it seemed to be fixed now!
As a small way to commemorate the beginning of Act II, I've decided to upload two chapters at once. ;) Enjoy! Also, hopefully I can put together a small sketch-dumb about Act I on DA, so I'm probably gonna post a link to them as well at a later time.
Also, new cover image, yay! I plan to do that during every new Act. :) Not sure if I stick with this one, but I'm pretty happy with it.
