lukeoutbelow | Do not be afraid of light

Do not be afraid of light

They smelled the battlefield long before they saw it. The apprentices and little Sisters who hadn't been on this kind of excursion before covered their noses and exclaimed. Vena didn't. As the child of a camp follower she would know to expect this, but her tread slowed and she looked repeatedly at Sister Lashan, especially as the sound of incredible numbers of crows cawing grew louder.

"Nasty, isn't it? Decay is part of death which is part of life," Lashan said firmly, if not totally without sympathy. How young had she been, the last time she was upset by the aftermath of battle? "There's armies that immediately turn around and sort the living from the dying from the dead and take care of that then and there. Not here, they're leaving it for the locals to handle or not and we're local enough. If you fight, you may well fight for people who'll leave you if you fall and move on. Make sure you at least have friends who'll look for you." They pressed on with their wagon. The donkey put its ears back but did not balk.

It wasn't as bad as it would get over the next few days. The bodies - it was now academic who had belonged to which side of whichever meaningless conflict this was - were not much bloated and decayed yet. Flies were not yet overwhelming. Right now the field of bodies was mostly attended by carrion birds, and various other birds that were willing to take advantage of the bounty before them. Finches among them, tiny beaks dipped red. A few other people could be seen picking their way across what had been a perfectly useable pasture. They kept clear. Lashan tasked girls to keep watch for them anyway, pretended not to see the ones who were being sick, and oversaw as dead men were loaded onto the donkeycart. They'd take them away a distance, say the rites, strip them of useful things, get them buried, and come back.

She paused. Something... like a sound. Not a sound. Lashan was hearing something with her mind, closer than the pickers. A threat? She stood like a sentinel and paid attention.

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"Told you already, I wanted get some fresh air. Heat was making my wounds burn."

Satisfied with his perching spot, Guts gets comfy there on the rooftop. No matter how gruesome things got after a war, it was always peaceful to watch the dusk fade and see the stars.

So, for a while, he drinks in the sight of the trees beyond the barricades, the dirt roads and the structure of the town. Fires begin to get lit with the coming of the night, bathing small areas with warmth. He catches the moon, barely visible in its waning stages. Despite lacking a weapon, it was easier to relax away from all the village inhabitants.

Vena gets herself to the spine of the roof and lays down with her legs and body on one side, her arms held out straight and chin propped on the other, like she was draped over it. Because she's young, this is comfortable, despite straw bits immediately sticking to her. The square knot in her hair is coming messily undone.

"That's the temple to the Twins," she says, propping herself up and pointing. "And the bathhouse. The refectory. There's the glassworker's forge, and master's forge, and there's the armory and the salle." Vena points out a few more buildings and then hooks her chin over the roof's spine again and lapses back into silence, kicking her feet in the air now and then in a fidget. There are some things she'd like to be doing more but this isn't bad.

As the sky goes to indigo a chiming rings out from the temple, and many of the people below start to move towards it. The sentries in their towers stay where they are.

"That's evening service. I'm not goin' this time. It's not required." Vena doesn't mind the services, even if she doesn't really feel the presence of the four gods called the Twins. They do tend to go a little longer than she likes, though. She looks down at the slowly clearing enclave and, speculatively, at Guts.

"Service?" he makes a face.

"Never bothered with 'em. I don't think God cares about people like me, anyway."

Or whatever form 'God' took in this little backwoods town out in the middle of nowhere. Mercenaries were not typically a religious sort, though superstitions were rife among soldiers. Bad omens, good signs, Death itself waiting over your shoulder. A priest of the Holy See would condemn such things.

None of it felt as real as his sword or the ground or a panting horse under him. He keeps watching the moon, the silvery crescent becoming more visible as the night darkened.

"Healer, Crafter, Fighter, Hunter," she says, rattling off their primary domains in a way that would absolutely make the priests wince. It's all more complicated than that, each of those domains encompass more than a one-word description quite conveys. Vena doesn't really feel like describing or defending a religion she basically thinks has some nice elements but is probably some kind of metaphor that Lashan is a little too into, but she does mention her favorite aspect. "Fighter's always a girl. The Twins are from the plains and girls fight there as good as men. Like my master."

She doesn't want to be a fighter herself but it's nice to think that she could be, if she did and called on Her. Assuming She answered. Crafter hasn't in any clear way yet. Everyone's kind of vague on how the Twins respond, if they do.

Owls start to call in the gloom. Vena scratches a bug bite. "If I could kinda... let you borrow a sword, for the nights, you'd give it back, right? And you'd have to not let anyone see it."

"That's four. Aren't twins supposed to be two of something?" he questions offhandedly, but figures the other religions he's been exposed to never made much sense either. He'll believe the one that shows itself tangibly before his eyes.

Guts blinks away from the night sky once the girl makes her offer, baffled.

"You'd just trust my word if I said yes? Thought you were all worried I'd stab you outta nowhere."

That was fast. He's actually a little worried Vena would offer him one so quickly. He's a mercenary - Lashan's caution was perfectly warranted, especially with the lack of properly trained guards. But he won't say no to an offered blade.

"It's two pairs. Sometimes they're two pairs who're conjoined... I mean, like, Healer and Fighter are like one person with two faces and Hunter and Crafter are a different one person. With two faces. I dunno if that's supposed to be real." Vena shrugs. There's a lot she doesn't really get and she's been here for almost a third of her life.

She's relaxed her shields after it became evident that she wasn't going to have to wrangle balance at the same time. When there are fewer people close by it's not so bad, even if after a few minutes the man on the roof and the woman on the closest guard tower, and the more indistinct not-sound of the sleeping chicken and the drowsing horses, become louder until it's like they're all next to her shouting. Tuning out the animals isn't so hard but the sentry woman... How does Lashan do this all the time? To her it must be like everyone's always saying what they think out loud.

"Are you actually gonna do that?" she asks, a little distracted by the effort it takes to ignore and a moat with man-eating fish and I could fish in it but would that be cannibalism huh. "You were mad when master told you not to kill anyone. But you wouldn't need a sword for that, it'd just make things easier."

Edited 2022-06-24 13:05 (UTC)

“Don’t think I’d be able to eat any more of those dumplings if I went up and did that.”

It was easier to go with the goofy explanation for a kid. Indulging in nice food was so rare and fleeting that he really did appreciate it, even if he never properly thanked Lashan as of yet.

Before he could raise a sword, he was tasked with cooking meals, including his own. As of late, much of it had been game meat and whatever bread and cheese he could get nearby. Anything that required significant cookware was out of the question when he was wandering around forests and fields.

Vena is distracted for a moment by the need to share her opinion, brightening up and propping herself on her elbows. "They're so good! The best ones have carrot and mutton! Or apples, with sweet cheese! And sometimes they fry them, and they're crispy..."

She frowns, trying to get back on the more serious topic and keep track of what she's actually heard with her ears versus the more intense tumult of other information. That guard is still bored and daydreaming about fish! It's like tasting dumplings and army camp fare and unadorned game and sweet flaky fresh fish all at the same time, and now she's hungry. It would be fun to talk about food and she's pretty sure if they went to the refectory now she could steal something...

"But this is important," Vena says, a little to herself. "You know why people are scared of you. Master's so beat up and she won but you're..." She waves her hand at Guts, unthinkingly using Lashan's same gesture.

Guts listens patiently, content to hear her get excited about her favorite foods. It was endearing, even if he never had much opportunity to try sweets. Maybe he'll get a chance to try something fried before he leaves.

"I'll give it back. Promise."

A mercenary's promise never meant much, he knew, but it felt different here. More tranquil. There were opportunities for soft things outside of a rotten battlefield.

Edited 2022-06-24 23:07 (UTC)

"Swear on it?" Vena asks, and pulls herself into a sitting position and a little bit closer. If he's not used to promises being good maybe he hasn't sworn before, so she'll have to teach him.

Oaths are binding to people who follow the Twins, so actually swearing to do something is rare and special. It hadn't been like that in the army camp. Vena finds the way they talk about it here, the various different rituals, so serious and kind of thrilling. Like words and a gesture mean more than they would otherwise. As a child she can't really make binding oaths herself, but that doesn't stop all kinds of little rituals among the kids, imitating their elders.

"You've gotta... you lock your little finger with mine, and then you say you swear to give it back and not kill anyone here, and lean north and east and south and west, and then let go." It absolutely has never occurred to her that pinky promises are anything but cool.

"... Like this?"

He wraps his pinkie around hers, hand callused and roughened from his years of handling the sword and crossbow.

"Well. I swear I won't kill your friends," he starts awkwardly,"And, uh - I'll give the sword back. Like I said."

This was goofy as hell from his perspective, but if it got a weapon on him... He leans his head in all four cardinal directions, remembering which way the sun set. He waits for some kind of confirmation from Vena before releasing her finger.

Vena's hand is barely coarsened yet, with just a few suggestions of callus from thread-spinning and wire stuff. Enclave life has been good to her.

Swearing totally is cool, and it's not his fault that he doesn't understand that. Vena watches Guts' face intently, what she can see of it in the dim light. "And seal it - let me touch your thumb - okay." She lets go and solemnly says, "And if you lie all oaths to you are null, every man's hand is against you, the gods turn their faces away and you will be eaten from the inside out by your own darkness until the reckoning comes."

Which isn't something you say after finger-swearing, but a promise to not kill the Sisters or walk off with a sword that represents a considerable chunk of their income seems like it calls for something bigger than break your fingers if you lie, stick a needle in your eye. She's probably not quite got the words right but Lashan always says the intent is what's important.

"Okay," she says conspiratorially. "The armory's locked up and I don't wanna go in the bunkhouses or dorms." Most of the people who didn't go to service are in those. Also, the women who'd keep weapons for themselves outside of the armory would notice if they were missing. "But I know there's some finished ones in the forge and everything's done for the day. We just have to..."

Vena looks down the roof and at the ground. "Wait, how do we get down?"

Creepy.

He watches her incredulously as she finishes off the rest of the swear. Some superstitious part of him felt a little unnerved by that, as if this kid was going to really go up and curse him if he ran off with the sword. He really didn't need any more bad luck after what the last string of years were like.

Guts is sure he will prefer his own over the sword they have when it comes time to depart, so whatever. He happily unlocks his finger before she adds any more weird incantations to the deal.

"You jump down."

He says this as if its the most obvious thing in the world. Shaking off his momentary apprehension, Guts walks over the same wood beam towards the low end of the roof, and hops off. Getting down was easy - he only had to rely on his legs for that part.

"It's supposed to be creepy," Vena tells him loftily, losing track of whether or not he'd said that out loud. She raises her shields again with a sense of relief and the world becomes quieter, easier to handle. Her power has been getting stronger since she first noticed it, and this shielding thing has just got more and more important. Lashan says she'll teach her how to shield more selectively so she can listen to some things and not others when she's proven she can use it responsibly. It's hard to prove she can be responsible. She's trying.

Vena peers over the edge of the roof and cautiously makes her way along it. "You just jump down!" There's a tall pile of hay slated to be replacement bedding when the stalls get mucked out. She peers at it, balling her hands into fists, and hesitates for a moment while she sways indecisively back and forth. "I'm not a little kid," she mutters, imagining Guts coming back up and getting her like she is, again, a kitten.

So she jumps before she can stop herself, and with a rustle disappears completely into the hay.

"Pfft. Nice jump."

He leans over the pile, brushing a few clumps of hay away to look for the girl buried inside. She guessed correctly that he would have offered to at least catch her - though given his wounds, it may not have ended as gracefully as he would have hoped.

If he finds a hand or limb, he'll help pull her out with a shit-eating grin on his face. Around Vena, it was easy to lighten up and act a little more his age.

Vena starts to say something and sneezes. More than once. "I think it went ub my nose," she complains, and allows Guts to help haul her out. "What are you looking at?"

She is a mess, not that she'd been completely clean or put together to start. Overlaying scorch marks on her clothing there's some water and oil and who knows what else from the dishes, the decomposed thatch from the roof, and now she is wearing a good portion of the haystack. Vena, largely unselfconscious, takes down what's left of her updo so she can fingercomb her hair and get some of it out. She does of course neglect her scalp. Pieces of hay stick out at wild angles.

"Where'd I... oh!" And she's going to go pick up the tray again.

Again with the plates...? Guts hovers behind her, frowning as she goes for the tray.

"They're gonna make a bunch of noise if you bring that with you. Not exactly stealthy."

He would rather avoid a situation where they're caught in the forge stealing weapons. This kid was awfully determined to finish her chores, wasn't she? Seems like she has a lot to learn about being a proper miscreant.

"I'm being responsible!" She knows she'll forget if she leaves them here. Vena quickly thinks of a few justifications. "Plus it's a good excuse to be seen. And it's fine for me to be in the forge, that's my master's domain. And I can just leave them at the scullery before we get there. And they're not that loud if I don't run. Come on."

She hugs the tray and its contents to her chest in a way that muffles them. Vena's strong for a kid her size, she's been working the bellows for Lashan and the lesser blacksmiths for a year. The lungs of the forge take some strength to operate properly. But also, she's absolutely not going to keep this up for the whole way to anywhere.

There are fewer eyes about now. The majority of people are at the temple still, or taking this chance for a long hot soak at the bathhouse, and most of the rest have gone to bed. Those who are left are clearly much more wary of Guts and if anything seeing him following Vena makes them more alarmed, until she's close enough or the torchlight falls such that they recognize her.

She does notice that, and pauses at an intersection. Lashan's ideas about misdirection and distractions and throwing stones such that they kill two birds come to mind. "Actually..." She lowers her voice and impatiently twitches her head back in a 'come closer' gesture. "You wash the dishes. I'll go on to the forge, because I forgot a cloak there. Then I'll come get you and we'll go back to the infirmary."

“If you say so.”

He acquiesces to her, despite not entirely buying the reasoning. The plates clatter irritably in his ears, but he lurks close to Vena as she navigates the streets.

It was strange, being so visible to the villagers here. In peacetime, he could move about relatively disregarded. Just another soldier with no war, another wandering sword for hire. They were common enough with all the feuding lords.

Here, all of the residents were looking at him like he had some contagious disease. Was one fight in the mud really enough to acquire that much infamy?

By the time Vena shoves the tray into his hands, he accepts the new plan with no complaint.

“Yeah. Sure. That way, right?”

He points towards the general direction of the scullery - his mental map of the place was pretty good.

Even Vena seems surprised and has a shadow of concern when she looks back and sees him close, though that flits back out of sight. It's not remotely visible when he agrees. At that point, she grins broadly, any misgivings buried in the simple pleasure of not having to do the dishes and in fact making a boy do them. "Thanks!" she says loudly.

He does actually get less suspicion carrying the tray. Somehow, it's less threatening for a man with resting bastard face to be seen with something so domestic.

"I should walk you. They're not close close, but there's..." She pauses, trying to remember the phrase. "Line-of-sight. If it was cold these'd go to the enclosed one at the refectory but the summer scullery is open planned and you can watch me. Long as you're not really obvious about it."

Like the stables, the forge is away from the center of the compound. The noise of it in operation, the smoke, and in summer the heat are not things other people want to be that close to, especially since it's not particularly enclosed. The scullery, which doubles as a communal laundry space, is less removed and even less enclosed than that. It has a roof and no walls, just a long basin with some of the same warm spring water that goes to the bathhouse going through it.

“When was the last time I’ve been stuck with dish duty?” he mumbles to himself, dutifully bringing the tray to the water basin. Best let Vena get to her business while he tries to ignore any stares he got at the scullery.

Memories of his first home surface in his mind. Feed the chickens, cook the meals, clean the dishes… Gambino had always been so high and mighty, making sure he knew he had to earn his his stay when he could barely lift a sword. Thankless, domestic work. Killing and the money it brought was the only thing that brought kind words on him.

Cleaning wasn’t so bad, though. A bit boring, maybe. It was easy to fall in a distracting meditative state, once he got into the scrubbing. Compared to the grime and muck of his job, it hardly churned his stomach. And what’s not to like about having something nice and spotless at the end?

At this hour, in the transition from evening to night, there's only one other person there, a bedraggled parent with a not-quite-toddler dozing in a sling on their back, wearily cleaning exactly the kind of linens that end up soiled at unusual hours by small children. They do this over by the drain and the outflow pipe, so there's no unfortunate downstream to negotiate, and while there's a moment of perplexed stillness, parenthood proves too exhausting for his presence to cause much concern and they return to work.

Over their shoulder Vena trots carelessly into the dark forge. If Guts pays attention he'll see her crouching by some floorboards and prying them up but otherwise it'd be hard to tell. After a few minutes she comes out with a cloak-wrapped bundle that's probably supposed to look like the cloak is just rolled up longways and no change in expression or demeanor, and veers off towards the refectory and out of sight.

The parent washes their hands, hangs their linens up on a rack with various other damp articles, and hesitates... then very shyly offers Guts a piece of cloth with a mumbled "To dry with."

He gets a glimpse of Vena slipping away from the forge with something, but isn't able to get a good look before he is offered a linen. It was a small gesture, but Guts prefers this to being stared at like a wild animal.

Wordlessly, he finishes his task. The clean plates are piled up where he spotted a few other ones near the trough. It does not escape him that the girl was taking a while to 'come get him' as she suggested. His first thought was wondering if she'd lied - promises meant nothing, after all - and she'd just gotten out of her assigned chore while he stood around like an idiot. He feels annoyed with himself, wondering if he'd really been duped by some kid.

With that embarassing thought on his mind, face slightly flushed, he gives back the linen. He still manages a curt and grateful 'Thanks' while avoiding proper eye contact. He decides to saunter off in the same direction to see where the girl had gone.

A dozen or so children of various ages from younger than Vena to girls older than Guts, all types who'd get really bored and fidgety during evening service, are congregated around the kitchen half of the refectory whispering and giggling and just in general being shady as they pass food around. It's after normal serving hours and this is one of the buildings that has a door that locks, but helpfully - one might say conveniently - there's an open window that smallish girls can be boosted up into, and a little light flickering inside.

Tiny Nerine of the rope tricks hauls herself out with her hands and uses them to hop out, bringing her legs up in time to land rather gracefully and is swarmed by even smaller kids. It's not light enough to be sure of bruises but there's a split across her eyebrow. She reaches into pockets and passes what appear to be bread rolls out only to see Guts and go furiously rigid. Various of the others follow her gaze, with mixed reactions.

Then Vena tumbles out the same window with much less poise as a chiming sounds from the direction of the temple, and children scatter. Vena mock-screams and hikes up her skirt to sprint scullery-ways, looking back as if someone leaving the temple will see and pursue her. If he doesn't watch it she is going to run full tilt into Guts and end up on the ground. There are some different mysterious lumps about her person, nothing that could be a sword.

It was dark, but he was fairly certain he recognizes one of the ankle-biters that had been hounding him in his fight with Lashan. Well, if she had something to say, she can say it to him directly!! But no time to worry about the swarm in front of the window, because there goes his partner-in-crime.

Guts spots her early on enough to think of stepping out of the way and maybe scruffing her by the back of the blouse again. But no, he was annoyed enough that he just lets Vena bounce off him and spill the misbegotten bread all over the ground. No treats for liars!

"You didn't tell me about this part," he says stiffly, arms crossed. This didn't look great in front the other children, but his business wasn't with them. This little twerp made a big deal about her honors and her stupid swears!

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