Queen's note: I don't know where this all came from but TADA! hopefully the long chapter makes up for the wait ...free ice packs if needed? I am trying to go back through the story again and edit, add in or fill in parts I missed before.
Garnets
Chapter Ninety Nine:
Faith Found
"Where to next?" Haco asked now that Slayer seemed well planted on his feet, and in mind, again and was walking. The Argenta man falling into step after and to the right side, the Haco examined the improvised path around the building that was now cleared.
Asin had led the rest of the Sentinels to clear it while Cyra and Haco had stayed with the War King. waiting until he knew for sure the Wretched toxin was completely gone, that Slayer did not see his brother as a Marauder. Then staring at the scout until sure her image would not flash into an imp. The younger scout had sat awkwardly on her knees, being stared down by the Slayer was unnerving at the best of times. Even if he was really 'spacing out' and not really focused on someone, it was… intense.
When he came right over to use the poor scout as someone to lean on. The honest kicked puppy look Cyra had between her armor and the wide eyes at Haco was both hilarious, as she did look like a gangly pup then, and not something he could help her with. The older Slayer did seem to calm down the rest of the way with a mortal, beating heart near enough to feel and hear.
As if to make up for it, the young argenta scout was allowed to become a backpack on the Slayer as they walked. Not unlike how a few scouts had gleefully clung to the back of Malum's shoulders over the last few days of combat. Cyra at least seemed happy like that, with her knees braced on the Praetor armor, and hands grasping the shoulders, close but having what seemed an acceptable buffer of space for the Sunwalker.
Not that this Crucible had ever intentionally hurt younger Sentinels and apprentices. Inadvertently made them sick in some cases on accidental touches, but Cyra was just young enough of a teen that she was mostly ignored and not seen as a remote threat by the living blade.
Slayer tilted his head, as if checking on his new scout style backpack, then glanced at Haco. He stopped where the skeleton of a bridge used to be, large gaps where stone and extended supports used to be. He was aware of the rest of the group making their way back up out of the building and to him. Slayer pointed over to the eastern side of the city they were almost in, two buildings over and at one in particular.
It stood out from memory and being oddly intact in reality. Still weathered and time worn like the rest of the city. But it was still whole on the outside, not like even the throne room that had needed to be repaired by Jade.
Slayer flexed his hands and signed out slowly, letting the young Argenta watch his hands from around his left shoulder. We go there.
"That was an old temple, right?" Cyra asked, peeking over a broad shoulder to see where Slayer had pointed out again.
"Ahh… in a way." Haco said, and not for the first time, but the first time in a long while he suddenly felt old. From the subtle body language, Slayer was not much better as he looked up and then back down. "That building is where a Wraith well used to be, before the Makers built the Divinity Machine there over it."
"The machine that… made the Slayer King, and dead-altered Marauders?" the scout asked, as who she was holding onto was starting to move but stopped again as it took a second for her question to sink in. At the head tilt from the bigger Sentinel, Cyra added, "Those chained Marauders? At least a few have been summoned over the last few days that came after the Slayer… and….well you too Lord Haco…."
Came through most of the other Sentinels to go after who had the right kind of armor. The Praetor armor the Slayer's, as well as the other prototype that Haco wore. The latter wondered if this was something Valen went through before.
"I know of the fallen, those that gave up their wraith gifts to the Maykrs." Haco said, "They're called Chained now?"
"The willing traitors are still just that." Cyra offered as she watched her King reaching back to grasp the large hilt of the Sunwalker, moving it from his back to his left hip. "It's those that are revived by the… Lich, the Corpse Lord that are the Chained."
Slayer waited a beat to be sure the armor was latched tight to it. At a tap to the back of his neck, the girl understood and shifted to be holding around the thick neck and armor. Putting herself into Slayer's center of gravity.
She had to hold on tight as he launched forward the moment the teen was still. Cyra yipped at first, and then was laughing by the time her ride had stopped on the other side of the broken bridge. The scout grinned as she shifted to look behind as Haco was clearing the gaps, landing beside Slayer with a heavy thud as well, both men moving to be sure their combined weight and armor were not in the same spot for too long as a few bricks were shifting under foot.
The younger scout held on, keeping herself in that center of gravity as she was carried. Watching as the Slayer was proving to be a lot more agile than his bulk would suggest. Even with a passenger. Cyra was really just a backpack at the moment, though not dead weight as she was trying to stay in that center. It did not take long before it became easier, the scout blinking as she found that she could move, brace on the new god and if wanted could launch off.
But she likes the ride for now, even if it was still a workout of her core just to stay balanced.
Slayer was heading around the next building and slowed only at a completely broken down bridge way that would have been a direct path to the divinity machine. For just a moment he glanced at the throne room building. Debating on getting a wintherin to just get to that building, but the all too fresh memory of Viola being speared was prominent. He could not tell if any of those old weapon spots were active from here, and Slayer did not want to repeat what had happened with one of Viola's children. He paused and peered down, spotting the under-city was still connected between the buildings on this side of Taras Nabad.
"What are you thinking?" Cyra dared to ask as things seemed still, and she dropped off after a shrugging shoulder that pushed at her. A large hand rested on her head after a moment, the scout watching intently as Slayer started to sign once Haco was back near them.
"Undercity?" Haco asked, looking down, paused and then looked up at the building that had the Divinity Machine. "The catacombs, they would lead us right there."
"Most of the undercity and the catacombs are flooded," Cyra spoke up, finding a spot to sit on her heels. At the head tilts from the two she winced and added, "With acidic waters…ermm… fluid. From what the others said, it's been dissolving bones."
"Those were made to keep water out, I suppose a little too well if it's holding water… 'fluid' with the lake levels down so far." Haco thought, and he looked over as Slayer gave a sudden groan. "Oh yeah, mister acid showers."
Slayer flexed his hands and looked at the gauntlets, still coated in the tar like substance. He looked at the few parts of exposed biceps, then the new god groaned a sound again with a sigh. He was realizing he might have some brand new, fresh scarring after the day was done as he looked over at the entrance to the lower parts of this building. If he remembered right it should go farther down to the undercity.
Turning he pointed at Cyra, chuffing for attention and once the scout was focused he signed slowly. Haco adding a translation to the side. Go back to M-A-L-U-M. Tell him to take wall near that building. I will open passage for my group under. Two points for killing L-I-C-H.
The wolf-like scout nodded, and then almost just jumped over a rail to another lever and scattered into a shadow. Confident with her skills and health now that she was no longer squished. Thanks to some attention from Bastet.
Only once the scout was well away, Slayer paused in the oddly still path below. Green eyes tracing the carvings and tapestries that had held on inside the cover of the building. Pausing at a half broken, or burned wooden door. Staring at it, or through the few openings before he reached through. Grabbing the lock on the other side and almost gently breaking the aged metal. Then sliding the blockade bar out of the brackets, a small nudge had what was left of the door swinging in with a grinding sound of near petrified wood and barely holding on hinges.
Haco had to quickly reach out to grasp at the door, Slayer turning at the same time as both saw it breaking at those hinges. The two awkwardly holding the door as there was movement and a shimmer of a ghostly form turning away from the biggest, stained glass window. Haco motioned with his free hand for the shorter man to go ahead as he picked up the door and set it aside.
The Phantom looked up from where she sat in the back of the storage room. She was blinking at the two armored forms from up on a little raised area, as if not sure they were really there. Her hands shifted on the bundle of fabric, one of the banners that survived the ages. Though it was a much brighter, vivid red than the faded clothes outside. She was sitting on a crate by the stained glass pattern window. Only a few strips of clear glass to look out of. A mummified body was in a farther corner, with two others, the farthest spot away from the door and behind several empty shelves.
Slayer looked at them, noting how the group seemed not much bigger than Cyra. Cuddling together in death for comfort perhaps, and what might be blood stains and claw marks in the old clothes. He looked back to the phantom and recognized the style of clothing. Not a Sentinel, but someone that had been living with them likely her whole life. If not for generations of her family.
She looked like a weaver, or a tailor, one of the many support staff that kept the Sentinel Keeps and Fortresses running. The ones that lived and thrived with the Sentinels, kept their guardians fed and clothed.
"...did you really come back?" The phantom asked, going from nearly transparent to a bit more opaque. A few more details came into focus, at least partly, like the edges of the phantom had been frayed and moth eaten like forgotten cloth.
Slayer stepped past the shelves, empty by cobwebs and dust, to the stained glass window, glancing at the design as he started to kneel on this raised section. Then settled on his knees before the phantom as Slayer reached up. Taking off his helmet, he gave a soft chuffing sound. Reaching a hand over to tap his knuckles lightly on a semi transparent leg.
He did not resist the cold hands hesitantly reaching to touch his cheeks. Only reaching out to cup a large hand on the phantom's own face. Humming in a low, soft tone to reassure, even if he did not personally recognize the young ghost, it did not mean he was any less gentle then Slayer would be with Heather and Iris. Letting the phantom launch at him, grab onto his armor, and carefully wrapped large arms around her shivering, opaque form.
Affection-worried.
"...I knew you would come back, I didn't believe them. I was ignoring those whispers this whole time- I swear, my king. You'd ever abandon us…" the little phantom shivered until she was wrapped up fully in a hug. Tucked up under Slayer's chin as he took a deep breath, rumbling another low tone.
He was back, he was there, it would be okay now. He lifted a hand and rubbed the girl's head, feeling the ghostly hair, then the cool patch pressing against his front again.
"I stayed, I didn't want them to take… us…I… I don't know what to do now." the phantom shivered and his her face against the chest plate of the Praetor suit. She flinched at sensing movement, peeking up at a humming, and gasped. Seeing the second figure again as he came over, taking off his own helmet as well.
Live, uncorrupted, Argenta… Sentinels of old were back with the Slayer King? Not the shimmering silver but having armor that echoed their war king.
Haco rested a hand on the Slayer's shoulder. Using the shorter, not quite man to brace on as he knelt on the steps behind him. When he spoke, Haco's voice was a low reassuring rumble as well, "You don't have to do anything, little one. We are here now, you can follow the others, it's safe."
"I… don't know how too…" the phantom admitted, gasping as Slayer shifted, leaning over her and adjusted. And in almost one motion lifted and turned the phantom so she was in his arms fully. Rocking back to settle on the floor, holding the phantom not unlike how he would give Lily a squeeze hug that she liked. Using Haco's hand to keep from going back too far and sliding down the stairs.
Carefully, the new god held as tight as dared, extending his power. Offering the scarred soul to hide under his strength until she was ready to move on. Grunting as he was almost tackled so to say at that, Slayer chuckled as he let the soul hide against him. The frayed edges sank a bit into the heat. Blinking as there was a whisper before she vanished.
"I kept it safe for you, my king…"
Haco was tracking a shimmer of energy, realizing the phantom had likely used her wraith gift to make an illusion before death. Staying after death to hold that illusion, now with giving into the offered shelter, the storeroom was not as achingly empty. The dusty shelves were covered in lace so thin it was like spider web silk, becoming sheets when mixed with the dust. It was that, that helped hide the full shelves of bottles with shimmering… energy.
Refined Wraith energy in carefully sealed bottles, raw crystals sized from pebbles to sand in lidded jars. What was needed in all the pre-stages before being able turned it to the potions the healers used. Only with it being settled, Haco realized he could see a few different shades of colors in the shifting energy. Even large glass jars of pebble sized crystals, again each container seemed to have different colors. His own green eyes widened, as it sank in these were wraith crystals from different Mothers.
Haco rose slowly, stepped over to brush aside a transparent lace covering. Being extremely careful to not hurt it, watching clinging dust cascade off the lace. Extending his Wraith Gift while touching a jar of lavender crystals that was almost like sugar rock. The man closed his eyes, instinctually recognizing the feeling of his own Mother Wraith, as it was Sekhmet who gave Haco his gift so long ago. Yet able to remember the lean, almost wintherin like frame far smaller than Bastet. Still larger than Haco as a little boy back then, but though had only felt as warm and comforting as his family, the. Foster father in the Sentinels.
"She was hiding these for us." Haco said softly, grateful. Looking over at where Slayer sat still, holding a shimmering marble of concentrated energy in one hand, the cloth in the other hand. He frowned, worried, "Is she scared?"
Slayer shook his head, looked between his hands and shifted the red cloth to his forearm. Carefully signing around the marble he held. Not scared, she forgot… much. She is lost.
The soul lingered, stayed as a phantom from sheer determination to stay and protect her companions to pass on. To hide the small treasure trove for the real Sentinels to return. She did not know what else to do or how to do it, for all that, the phantom was not disciplined like the guardians that once protected her.
Slayer, John, gave a soft sound, lifting the marble of energy, the tiny soul huddled in his hands. Pressing his forehead against it, sensing the confused fear, but that want to hide from it. Then pushed the marble into his mouth. Unlike the damned soul, there was no crunch, he just swallowed as fast as he could. Concentrating on not absorbing the soul, but trying to think of how he tucked the sacred ones under his strength and power.
It felt like something so small and fragile was huddled in his hands. He slowly reached for the bright red cloth, rubbing a thumb over it and his wrist. As if he could rub it on a little back or shoulder. Feeling the shutter and then a lack of tension, the fear bleeding away.
It was not all that different from feeling Iris or Heather snuggling into his chest, gripping his shirt when they dosed with him, before he left the Fortress.
"...ha'ah…ca…"
It took a few moments for the Argenta man to realize the rasping sound was coming from the hunched god. King. Man, who was still sitting on the floor. Haco stepped back, trying not to react more than eyes widening. The taller warrior came back and sat down on the wide stairs. It did not fix the full height difference, but it was not as steep between them like this. There was also something familiar about the position as they both sat. Back to back, in similar armor, in a still storage area.
So much like ages ago, but instead of the out of place Bi'jay with armor alike to Haco's silver then. The Sentinel was in armor similar to his now king's. Feeling Bi'Jay… John? He leaned back on Haco, head resting on a shoulder, pressing back.
"I'm still here." Haco said, reaching up with his right hand, finding the ash stained hair and ruffling it.
Something like a cough came from behind Haco, and the gravelly growl came before John tried again to speak, not in primordial. Or demon, but just to speak again. It sounded wet, and Haco could only imagine that John's throat was starting to bleed.
"Ph…f. prrr…ahm..is. Pfrrahmus. Ah… hmmm…meh." John gasped, and then paused while swallowing. "Prah-mus… ma."
"I've promised and sworn many things to you brother." Haco spoke, tilted his head back and to the side, not able to rest it on John's shoulder, but could rest his head against the other a little better. "Sometimes at you, still."
There was a rough chuckle, Haco could imagine the lopsided smile that had not really changed from the first time Haco saw it. The next word attempt slurred, taking a long few seconds for John to force out. Determined to speak more than ever for some reason. "Sss… shap…st-ahp mah."
Haco frowned, hearing a frustrated motion of the other moving his hands. A broken growl followed, and took a guess, "What am I to stop you from?"
"Mah." John looked down at his hands, picking up his helmet, smoothing his thumb over his mark on the side of the visor. Tilting it to look at the now worn, but still there paint pen letters. 'John D. Hawkins,' was still visible. He looked up, leaning against Haco's back again to stare at his mark incorporated into the stain glass. Half hidden but still there, using the Sentinel Crucible breaking into the 'ground,' the hilt of Sunwalker a little more exaggerated.
He thumped the back of his head against Haco's shoulder. Hands flexing before settling, pressing back a little more firmly.
Looking down, the not really man was holding the banner like cloth as gently as if still having that soul in his hands. Something that must have been made in this room, after death, possibly after the phantom had shield everything around. It was definitely handmade, hand stitched and wonderful, beautiful work. Possibly a thousand stitches in just small sections. It almost seemed like she had put her wraith gift into the threads… or used it to make the threads, somehow made them in the time alone here?
…was that even possible?
John looked around at the delicate seeming lace, not even sure who the woman had been. But he could feel the love and faith that lingered where the phantom had been. In her work, trying so hard, though the confusion and pain, and loneliness.
If possible, John tried to hold that soul closer to his core. He could understand going through those all too well. He closed his eyes, able to see the glowing form of his mark shimmering on the inside of the sarcophagus lid. The rage, pain, nightmares, realizing he was alone and starving until the blood Priests cracked open the sarcophagus to add more bindings and feed him… loney, scared souls sometimes, a set amount of argent energy other times, and something else that was purely hell made.
The half memory of seeing souls and not realizing they were still living. That he had almost culled them to try and protect those souls, while burning and absorbing the others that he had sheltered.
John opened his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. Reaching behind him and up, gripping Haco's free shoulder as best he could. "Sht-ah-p. St…ahp…me."
He did not want to wake from the haze of fully losing control, only to find those most defenceless dead and culled. With souls trapped in his power-
Another shuddering breath, and this time he tried to speak on the inhale. "St-op ne."
"When do I stop you?" Haco asked, getting another nudge, and felt John let out all his breath. He was trying to speak on the inhale again, the words slow and halting. It was still a great effort for the attempt and each word ground out in Argenta was being paid for.
"...whe-en, ah… ca-an-d ..can-t cee." John stopped, catching his breath as it shuttered. Swallowing a mix of saliva and bloody mucus. "I…am… bl-ind. Ra-age… I… ah'll huuurt… ee-et mah pha-oow-er…ss…"
John closed his eyes, face screwing up and leaned forward, coughing and spat out some more of the blood. It almost looked black to him, so dark in the storage room only lit by stained glass.
"...you want me to try and stop you, if you're blinded in a rage?" Haco half asked as he worked through the strained, whispered and rasped words. Feeling John moving, twitching but trying to keep their backs together. "Like what happened with Viola?"
John started to nod, a strain sound coming out of him. He saggard back, as if he was back in training ages ago. The new god tried to heal, to push his throat to. He let a little energy crackle down his arms, then hand, pressing it to his neck to see if that might help it.
Haco took a deep breath, slow and steady before holding it a few moments and letting it out in a slower sigh. Imagining what this task would truly entail. To step between a snarling, blinded god of death and way… and the tiny lives that depended on him. That said God was so happily entwined with and, admittedly, possessive of who he protected. "You're asking me, to get your little Flowers somewhere safe, if you're consumed in rage…and they, for whatever reason might be in your path."
There was a soft whine of sound, then John was coughing another clot of blood and spat it to the side. Wincing and rubbing a mostly clean edge of his gauntlet over his mouth.
"That," Haco thought aloud, looking at his own gauntlets and gloves. Leaning back a little as he stared up at the ceiling above, studying the rock. His voice was thoughtful as Haco filtered over the different possibilities of how that could happen, and the results. What would absolutely happen to Haco himself for stepping in front of the Slayer in the mists of all consuming rage and vengeance. Just tackling the Slayer in a battle haze was hard enough.
If there was a hell-influenced illusion so strong to make the Slayer think his adopted children were dead, or dying? Or, all the gods forbid something like did happen…?
If something actually happened, that barely controlled wrath to pull apart that Baron piece by piece?
Haco remembered the siege where, before the Divinity Machine, Bi'jay back then had been almost ferally protecting a collapsed building. Where there had been the then tiny Asa trapped, and how much effort it had been to subdue the 'rookie' back then.
"That is an ask bigger than an Atlan. Or an Atlan's grudge on a battlefield, my friend." Haco finally said, feeling his companion stilling against his back.
Haco was not sure he would ever be strong enough to stop the Slayer. He had spent most of their time together, in reality pushing and supporting his brother and then King then not. There would be, realistically, no way to stop so that would mean getting the little ones away. Risk being seen as a threat until the demigod… god calmed down. But he will be able to track those he cares about by his marks given. It might be worth talking to the Atlan Vega about sealing portals on the Fortress. Or if they had access to the Mother Bastet… if he could get them to the Wraith that might be a way to uphold this promise.
He just would not be able to tell John this.
The other man was moving around at last, setting his helmet between them and giving a long breath of air. Haco glanced over, then dipped into his subspace to pull out a fresh canteen of water. Getting a few sips, then held it between his hands. Frowning as he concentrated on using his wraith gift. Focusing it on the water inside, trying to make something sooth.
John blinked as the open canteen was pushed into his hands. He tried to hum a questioning tone but nothing came out other than a strangled huff of air.
"Stop trying to make sounds, drink. No, wait, sip that." Haco ordered, reaching over to half scruff the shorter god of death. "Don't go chugging it like you're feral again. Just …sit here with me little Brother."
There was a soft snort, but after a second John lifted the canteen and took a large mouthful. Yet he did take smaller swallows of that, and at the last bit tilted his head back to gargle. Almost getting rid of the taste of his own blood. Then pushed his shoulder into Haco, leaning on the taller argenta for a few minutes. Just breathing and realizing what he had just asked the Sentinel.
The reality of just how much he was asking of Haco hit John.
The impossibility of the task, because as strong and brave as Haco was. Being a damn good Night Sentinel, warrior and even stronger now with the Slayer's gift. But the mark he has would also lead John, Slayer, right to Haco and his little Flowers.
I should not ask. The canteen was set between them on the few stairs, John was starting to sign slowly, but was stopped by an off-tan gloved hand being rested over them.
Haco was staring into the middle distance. Thinking again before he nodded. "I'll keep them safe."
John shook his head, sitting up but the other met his own glowing gaze.
"I swear, my brother." Haco said before he could be stopped. "With everything I am, with my gifts and soul, I'll keep them safe. Even from you, your rage and strength."
John shook his head, eyes wide. You'll die.
Haco snorted at that, shaking his head. "Of course I will, brother. The risk of that happening is not just from you though my king. I am a Night Sentinel, I will die one way or another. I am immortal in only that I can serve those that can't stand up for themselves and not pass on with the luxury of old age."
The shorter, not quiet man shook his head again. He sat up and turned to look at Haco, grunting an attempt at a sound and then tried to growl. No. Not aloud.
"You've already asked Bi'Jay, John." Haco snorted and then grinned despite the alarmed look. "And I gave my word that I would. Don't push it, I'll swear it again in front of and to the Mother Bastet. And we know what that might end us both up in."
John shook his head again, hesitating before moving to sit on his knees in front of his Sentinel. One of the remaining friends he could say he had still. He did not want to lose Haco… not by his own hands. It would be one thing to lose a brother in arms 'properly,' so to say. Haco was a good Sentinel after all, and willing to step into hell on his own after the Slayer King back then. Willing to put on the prototype Praetor armor despite the extra attention from any demon- hells, even willing to help with the Wintherin. Then step up with him in the haze of near blinding rage to help direct John's aggression to somewhere safe…
…was that what Haco was thinking of doing again?
"I won't tell you my thoughts," Haco said as if understanding the look he was getting. Reaching up to cup his hand against the back of John's hair. Pulling the Slayer closer to hold onto the collar flange with his other hand. Stooping over to press their heads together. "Don't worry about that. Any of it, because I won't let you know. But I'll keep them safe. You just have to make this city safe again, and give that Mark to your other Flowers to keep them safe. I'll do most of the rest."
At least try to.
Haco let go and reached for the canteen again, trying to charge it a little more with his wraith gift. Then pried one of the hands off his own knees to press the container into John's hands.
"Drink, we still have a lot to do brother, this day. And the next." Haco snorted as the new god slowly took the water to start drinking. Sipping, using the wraith energy to try and heal. Rest his once more damaged vocal cords. Haco sat back and ran a hand through his hair, looking towards the shelves and that set of jars with a soft lavender shade. "I do have something to ask. I know it's selfish against the needs of everything… considering the needs…"
John tilted his head, looking puzzled but not against whatever Haco wanted.
"Not all of these are from mother Bastet." Haco said, and motioned up at the jar with the bigger of lavender crystal fragments. Not that much bigger than some pebbles or barely the size of his thumb pad. "That's from Sekhmet… Can I have some of the wraith crystals? Before any are processed. She was my Wraith Mother, as Bastet claimed you."
John could not help but think of the wraiths he had found in hell. What was left of them. He had not known who was who then, but with some time to think away from the fighting. One of those Wraiths he could remember the wings were more fin-like. With curved horns not unlike the wintherin, and Bastet's own horns.
Sekhmet, who apparently never blamed Valen, had led the Slayer from mars to the altars that she and her sisters were nailed to. Willing to feed the crucible to wake it up and giving the last of her energy to heal him in hell before passing to the Eternal. Where gods ended after dying, and sometimes came back, or in cases like the Slayer himself… had to go through more than a few times.
Anything. John nodded, looking up and around as he focused on the jars and bottles of crystalized energy. Then looked down in surprise at the vivid red cloth he had over his wrist. Carefully picking it up again and examining it closer as Haco stood. He took the offered hand and was pulled up before tugging on the hand and carefully put the banner in Haco's hands. Look what she did.
Haco paused, he had been intending to admire what the phantom had done. She spent so long on it and protecting the treasure around them from being plundered by hell and the Corpse Lord. puzzled, he opened the cloth to hold up the banner. Then he saw it, realized it.
There were no looms here, nothing improvised for one and with taking a much closer look at the cloth, the Sentinel realized it was made of so many tiny, fine knots. He remembered the knitting, and… crocheting that they did with the horde of fiber yarn they had been given by the Slayer. Only it was so small and fine seeming once done. Haco had seen some of the younger kids bundled in scarfs that were made like that, before they left, things that Lily had made while alone before from what he understood.
John pointed to the banner, touching the red threads. Haco hesitated and then reached out with his other senses, using his own wraith gift, and then felt it. Belatedly felt it, the threads… were made somehow from the wraith crystals. How he was not sure, but Haco knew the concept was not impossible. There had been stories before the Unholy War, about weavers and tailors that were that experience to make threads.
The banner felt like… Malum's gift, and he was a wraith son of Ceres. The red made sense, as Ceres' crystalized energy was tinted that shade. There were other colors to make the patterns of the text and the Slayer's glyph. The mark of the winthern riders below. The edges were all embroidered with a mix of colors that would likely shimmer in the direct sunlight.
Almost at the same time, both looked over at where the phantom had been sitting under the window. The crates and few barrels there, that seemed just that bit out of place. John walked back up the few stairs, feeling a thrill that was not his emotion but the little soul he was protecting. Excited that he had finally noticed.
The wood of the crate was a bit more brittle to John, here. Dry, and having been exposed a bit more than what was in the Vault. Between that and his strength, even held back, part of the lid to the crate cracked under his fingers. John shifted the lid back and gently set aside, starting at the shimmering fabric hidden inside.
He hesitated, seeing his own ash and char stained gloves, but reached down and picked up a smaller fold of fabric. John opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Holding the smaller cloth in-between his hands, the paler lavender color with some streaks of darker purple. Then other colors used to make recognizable wild flowers from Argenta controlled worlds. Two John remembered from two different colony worlds, though blue shades were used for them instead of green.
Smoothing the smaller piece between his fingers, John huffed a soft breath, then tucked the smaller piece into his subspace. Gently touching another cloth. Paler base, with darker detailing and a dark blue and purple glyph of the wintherin riders.
Faith. John signed in Argenta as he looked up from where he knelt, looking surprised and almost overwhelmed to Haco.
"I would definitely say this is real faith," the taller man said, admiring the clothes he could see. After stepping closer, he saw what was hidden behind and in another barrel that was in the back against the wall. Balls of shimmering thread and what looked like nettles. "She learned a skill I thought was only myths, in death. And used it to honor her faith in you."
Am I worth faith? John signed, taking the folded banner and put it into the crate.
"I know you asked that of me when you first became a Sentinel," Haco said, almost not hesitating to answer. "And again, I heard you ask Lord Valen that when you took up the Crucible. The fact you are honestly asking that again now…"
Haco pulled up the Slayer as they heard distant sounds of the rest of their group catching up and clearing the building. He moved over to pick up their helmets off the stairs
"I hope I can ever be half as loyal as her. But you, brother, are worth the faith I have in you. That others do." Haco turned John around, and grinned while fitting his king's helmet on. "I know you enough to see when you think of yourself as a monster. And in some ways, we both are. But you are as much like the wintherin as any creature. Too much love and too big horns or tusks to know how to interact with more than a few people at the time. All to say: Yes. you are worth the faith."
John grasped Haco's own collar ridge, pulling the taller Argenta man down. A steady pressure, drawing his found brother down to press the top of his visor against Haco's head. Letting go after a few moments of quiet, to let Haco put his helmet on as well. He looked up at movement, spotting another of the new Sentinels down to their level.
Taking a deep breath, the Slayer shook himself, lifting an arm to press his left forearm against Haco's arm. Getting a smack to the back of his head, but not seeming to mind or notice. Waving over one scout that joined them to send word. Wanting the treasure that the phantom had been hiding, back safe in the throne room building.
It also gave Haco a few moments to find a few bits of crystalized wraith energy. Tucking them into his subspace. One small piece slid under his chest plate, small enough to wedge in a spot and still feel it.
reviews!
XFireStoneX:
...neither did the slayer at first! :} but really, glad you're still here fren!
Irish-Brigid:
Yeaaaah... that Wretched had a REALLY good meal, for about... five, ten seconds. As for proof reading I am going back through things. last few chapters I will admit that Iwas distracted by real life things. been a very rough start of the year.