A/N: An update comes quicker than expected! Thanks for the support to anyone who read/followed/reviewed etc.!
I went back and caught a bunch of errors in Chapter I and edited the most glaring ones. Nothing that has much relevance to this chapter, except for the fact that lights-out is a half hour after meditation, not dinner.
CHAPTER II.
The toll of the wake-up bell resonated throughout the early morning air with a sweet clarity that Maya groaned when she heard, struggling to open her eyes for how heavy they felt.
It was still dark outside her window, of course; a day at the abbey always began hours before dawn. When she woke, her line of thought from last night instantly resumed.
The assassin.
The aftereffects of the adrenaline pumped through her system from that event had left her more tired than usual when waking. But she could recall in detail every aspect of their conversation and the terms it had ended on—the deal he had made with her before disappearing into the night. She sat up, noting with some chagrin that she was still wearing her training clothes and wrapped in her cloak from yesterday, having forgotten to remove it before falling asleep. And—she reached over to check inside her nightstand drawer—the book was still there. So she could be sure she hadn't dreamed up the encounter.
She sobered. That meant that Brother Brooks was now most definitely dead. And she was responsible. She hadn't been the one to take his life, no, but she had let it happen. Bartered his fate as a commodity to further her ambitions. If the assassin was to be believed, Brooks abused his position for his own profit…but wasn't that, technically, what she had done as well? She decided not to think on that question for now. She'd made the choices she needed to. All she could do now was go forward with them.
Maya found that she wasn't too worried about whether or not the assassin would hold up his end of the deal. It was nearly impossible for her to read him (though she filled in the gaps where she could), but the man seemed intensely dedicated, if nothing else. Even after discovering her identity as a siren, he was ready to kill her at a moment's notice should she interfere with his job. Surely he'd extend that same dedication to upholding the deal they'd made?
And assassins were all about deals, right? Not that she knew much about them other than the snippets of a hushed conversation she'd heard between Sophis and someone in his chambers while she was walking through that corridor one day. She had been young enough at the time that she obliviously asked Sophis what the word meant the next time they spoke. If he was taken aback he hadn't shown it, and simply replied that an assassin was an especially deplorable, sinful person that killed others, under contract for money or for political maneuverings. He hadn't even asked where she'd picked up the word.
So Maya wasn't too worried.
"I'm probably just naïve," she muttered.
Walking over to her closet to retrieve a change of clothes, she began getting ready for the day and morning meditation. She wondered how Sophis was going to handle Brooks' death, and supposed she'd find out soon enough. Entering the bathroom adjacent to her room, a luxury that the monks did not have, she studied herself in the mirror. No dark circles, just some crease marks on the side of her face where it'd been resting against the cloak. She rubbed at her cheek with the heel of her hand and then leaned over the sink's basin, turning on the tap and splashing cool water on her face.
How easy it was to go through her morning routine as if this were a day like any other. Just yesterday, the most thrilling thing on the horizon was a nightly trip to the library.
Exiting her chambers, she headed for the meditation hall, anticipation singing in her blood.
At breakfast, after the sacred silence of meditation and morning exercises, Maya mentally prepared herself to react with appropriate shock and dismay when Sophis made the announcement of Brooks' death. She didn't expect him to go into detail on the circumstances surrounding his death, and she knew that none of the monks would ask about it even if they did wonder. And Brooks was an old man, after all. Sophis wouldn't have to come up with a reason for his passing.
But breakfast came and went, and there was no announcement. As always she took her meal in the dining hall with the monks although it was clear they didn't consider her as one of them, and didn't even catch any whisperings about it. She dared to glance over at Sophis once or twice, but detected nothing out of the ordinary in his countenance at all. He was, right down to his posture, the picture of calm.
Even when breakfast passed without incident, Maya still half-expected Sophis to approach her personally, or call for her in his chambers. But he said nothing, and she went through the motions of afternoon sparring present only in body, not mind. Why was he covering it up? Sure, he kept many things secret from her, as evidenced from his forbidding she go to the library anymore, but he wasn't shy about reprimanding her in the slightest. He was hell-bent on treating her as a child, after all, and neglecting to uphold her so-called divine duty to Athenas by failing to protect Brooks was prime reason for a scolding. More than that, she mentally snickered.
But it was strange that she'd heard nothing. Sophis couldn't be the only one that knew. She knew that some members of the Order had their own chambers, but most of the monks shared living quarters, and in all likelihood Brooks had been one of them.
Maybe there was something going on at the abbey that she didn't know about.
It was a testament to just how caught up in her thoughts Maya was that she felt the sudden jolt of the ground beneath her, breath escaping her lungs in a short huff. Blinking her eyes into focus she saw the monk she'd been sparring with standing before her, holding his staff to her throat and wearing an expression of surprise that no doubt mirrored her own at the moment.
"Er…" She cleared her throat awkwardly as he withdrew, offering a hand to help her to her feet. "Well played."
She felt the curious eyes of the others near them on her, and flushed slightly. When she and her partner resumed their stances once again, she moved quickly, countering her opponent's opening staff jab with a high kick, swinging her leg a full arc in the opposite direction to send the staff clattering to the ground. And though this would typically end a round, she didn't stop there, delivering an open-palm strike that sent her partner off-balance. She kept her expression neutral as she extended the same courtesy he had and helped him up, inwardly berating herself to hold it together.
The sky had darkened at last, the sunset melting beneath the far-off mountain range and bleeding pitch. Gloaming was beautiful on Athenas, and the spiritual stillness of the courtyard during meditation made the dusk feel ethereal.
Maya had dared crack open an eye to watch this process during evening mediation more than once, and this night was one such occasion. It always stirred the same longing in her, to cover the expanse of land all the way to where the sky met the mountains, to see what was out there. To explore the planet and know it from her own memories, a prospect much more intimate than the ink contours of a map could ever be. As much as Sophis insisted there was no place for her better than the abbey, it only fueled her desire to leave.
The gong that signaled the end of mediation brought an end to the silence, and she smoothly rose to her feet and made a beeline for her chambers. The nights out bell would sound shortly, and after that…
She reasoned that the assassin would probably show up around the same time she'd met him yesterday. She didn't doubt that he was aware of the general outline of the abbey's daily schedule and planned around it accordingly—he would at least wait until a safe time window after lights out. At least, she certainly hoped so.
She reached her room, turning to slide the door closed behind her.
It was then she noticed that the lamp in her room was lit.
Her eyes scanned over the room and stopped at the figure standing in front of the window, facing the view—
"Are you insane?" She gasped, at his side in an instant and reaching out to draw the panels that covered the window closed. "Anyone could have seen you! Especially with the light on in here!"
He turned when she closed the panels, but didn't speak.
It occurred to her that maybe she should have made an effort to be a little politer to a virtual stranger who also happened to be an assassin—or maybe it was the other way around.
She opened her mouth to backpedal when he answered, "The view shows forest. I would not have been spotted. You are paranoid."
"One of the locals could have been out there." She insisted with a frown. "And you lit the lamp. Someone in the halls could have noticed."
"Everyone was at meditation."
So he knew that much. "Someone could have gotten back before me," she shot back, beginning to sound a little petulant even to her ears.
"Doubtful, considering how you rushed."
"I—were you watching me?"
"You are out of breath, despite just meditating. Not hard to guess why."
She fell quiet, one brow quirked in irritation, and decided to change the subject. "I didn't expect to find you here, anyway."
"We made a deal."
Maya resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I meant this early. Did you sneak in during meditation?"
"Yes, although those circumstances were not necessary for me to successfully infiltrate."
Uh huh, she thought. She couldn't say she liked the idea of him waiting around in her room while she was gone, either.
"You are different from yesterday," he stated, interrupting her thoughts.
She paused, unable to infer from his tone how she was supposed to take that statement. He was right either way—yesterday she'd been caught completely off-guard, on the way back from sneaking into the library, and then suddenly thrust into a life-or-death situation. Although she felt far from comfortable in the presence of the assassin now, her excitement to learn from him did temper her inhibitions a bit. Not knowing how to answer, she decided to simply not give one.
"Where are we going to do this?" She moved on, the tingling anticipation returning at the prospect of the training ahead of her. They hadn't gotten off to a great start tonight, either, but she wasn't about to let that ruin her focus.
"You are more familiar with the layout of this place, so you should decide." He tilted his head. "But, before that—I did come early for a reason."
He faced her directly now, and she instinctively shifted to do the same, looking up at his helmet expectantly.
"Combat is an art. To master it requires…knowledge of theory."
His articulation might have been structured in a way that was needlessly complex, but his meaning was easy enough to understand. She'd been hoping to get to the physical training right away, considering she'd only bargained for a few days, but as long as she was learning something she was satisfied. Fighting to her had always been about composed movement and catalog-like reference to the stances and positions she'd learned at the abbey.
"Ok. What do I need to know?"
It was a very open question, and for the third time she witnessed his helmet light up as the ellipsis projected over it once again as he considered. "The most important thing to remember: In the midst of combat, keep stillness inside of you."
That sounded simple enough. Her spars with the monks were bound to result in a swift victory unless she allowed herself to get completely distracted—like today. Ugh, she could feel the heat rising in her face again, and her gaze wandered to the floor in spite of herself.
"Focus. Got it." She nodded, and returned her eyes to him entreatingly. "Anything else I should keep in mind?"
He vanished.
She didn't flinch this time when he spoke from behind her, although her heart definitely skipped a beat. He wasn't as close as he'd been yesterday, and their proximity and location meant he didn't have to speak as quietly as he had then, but the mere act of his apparent teleportation was enough to set her on edge, spine rigid, and tattoos alighting for a split-second.
"You are easy to read. 'Focus' to you is familiarity. You know what to expect in your training because it's a routine. Am I wrong?"
"…No." She admitted. She'd never really thought about it before, but his explanation was correct.
"The truest proof of focus is adaptation. As I practiced yesterday."
She glanced over her shoulder at him at that, knowing that he was referring to facing a siren. And I sure put up a great fight as one, she thought bitterly, half-expecting him to follow up with some vaguely smug comment to that effect.
"I didn't know what to do when faced with that sword," she found herself musing out loud. "No one at the abbey uses a weapon like that."
"Likely; it is digistruct."
The word was completely alien to her. "What?"
His hand went to his hip, and she turned to get a better look as he took hold of what appeared to be a hilt, drawing it outwards to reveal light in the shape of a blade. As she watched, the light solidified into the holographic blue blade she'd been well acquainted with yesterday. The feel of it against her skin was something she'd not easily forget, and she knew the sword was completely solid—and sharp—despite having just watched it be apparently constructed out of nothing in front of her.
Maya leaned in a bit closer to inspect the sword, mind buzzing with curiosity. She tried to recall if she'd seen any books in the library that mentioned digistruct, but nothing came to mind. The blade, she noticed, looked absolutely spotless, devoid of not only signs of gore but nicks on the surface. It appeared to be completely new.
"How does it work?"
"The blade is digitally constructed from the hilt based on a programmed blueprint."
"So this is a completely different sword from yesterday?"
"Technically, yes."
"Interesting…" She straightened up as he sheathed the blade, and hazarded another guess from that information. "Does your disappearing act involve digistruct as well?"
"No."
She waited a beat for him to continue, but he did not, signifying he wasn't going to divulge on that particular topic. At least not yet.
In the lull in their conversation, a lonely note rang out: the lights out bell at last. Neither of the two reacted to the sound, but the atmosphere in the room changed.
It was Maya who spoke first: "We can go to the forest my room overlooks. No one from town is around there at this time of night, and if we go in just deep enough, no one watching from the abbey would be able to see us either."
That last qualifier couldn't have escaped his notice. Maybe she really was paranoid. But growing up here, she had full reason to be.
Ten minutes later found them leaving the abbey grounds, walking towards the forest. Maya had wanted to wait a little longer to be safe, but the assassin was unshakably confident in his ability of stealth. Maya was less so—she didn't exactly do this for a living—but followed him nonetheless, willing to ignore her cautions for just these few days. The night air was warm and a light wind from the south rustled through the trees, a pleasant divergence from the heavy silence that weighed down so often in day-to-day life at the abbey. She had made this trip a few times on her own while feeling particularly adventurous, and were it not for the assassin walking beside her she could have easily believed she was alone this time as well: he made no sound at all. It was a bit disconcerting.
"Here?" She came to a halt when she saw he had stopped walking, and looked around. They had come to an area where the trees were not very densely spaced, giving them enough room to maneuver in but still hiding them from sight to those watching the forest from outside it.
"Looks good," She agreed. "So, um…" Dropping into her fighting stance—feet spread apart and arms bent, palms open—she faced him expectantly. He didn't move, and she sensed he was staring at her with a vague sense of curiosity.
Maya felt a bit foolish, but didn't break her stance. "What?" She asked, defensiveness creeping into her tone.
"That's your position? It does not suit you at all. Pick something different."
The tips of her ears burned. "This is the only one I know."
"They taught you only one?"
The flush of her shame receding, the corner of her mouth quirked into a smirk at the semblance of commiseration she picked up from the assassin. "Pathetic, huh?"
"Yes. A waste of potential."
Maya was surprised for a moment to hear that, until she remembered she was a siren and within this fact was doubtless the potential he mentioned.
"Think of what you value in combat." He continued, still and dark beneath the patterns the moon cast through the trees.
Value was a strange word to ascribe to what she guessed he was referring to: her preferred fighting style. She had never developed her techniques much outside of what she was taught at the abbey, but thinking about it there was a pattern in her behavior when fighting—motion and disruption. She preferred immobilizing her opponents whenever the opportunity presented itself; this was the surest way to turn the tides of the fight. Her confidence when sparring with the monks stemmed from her ability to control the flow of the battle.
"Motion," she found herself saying aloud, though she had no idea how to translate such a broad concept to her current situation.
He answered as if he had expected it: "Begin with that."
And before she could question him further, he moved.
A/N: Maya doesn't lean Zero's name in this chapter. I lied. The next chapter will almost definitely have some sections in Zero's perspective, hopefully that will let me establish his character a bit :P