Chapter Text
Misraaks, Kell of House Light, breathed slowly so as not to disturb the slayer of gods currently curled up asleep on his chest.
In the dim warmth of his room, Sylvanni did not seem like the indomitable champion of the Light, nor the haunted survivor burdened to carry far more than her due. Sleep, instead, stripped away the many faces and obligations of Sylvanni Duv, and left her instead just a person. A woman finally getting the rest she'd denied herself for too long. Guardians were powerful, blessed with the Light of the Great Machine, and yet they too could break when pushed too far.
Something protective rose within him at that thought. This Guardian, in all her strengths and vulnerabilities, had become dear to him. Against all odds. Surely even the famed seers of House Rain could not have foreseen an outcome so unlikely.
He brushed a lock of blue hair from Sylvanni's face as she snored softly, cheek resting against the crook of his shoulder as they reclined amidst the cushions. He couldn't imagine his body made for a very comfortable alternative to a pillow, but that certainly hadn't stopped her from snuggling up against him to rest after the demands of today. Would that he could never move again, Misraaks thought; he would be pleased to lie intertwined here forevermore.
Unfortunately, reality and its necessities did not wait upon his wishes. An Eliksni’s ever-present need rose within from a request to a demand, and with a soft sigh, he resigned himself to as gentle an extraction from the sleeping Guardian as he could manage. Sylvanni made a small noise of unconscious protest as he slipped his lower arms beneath her and lifted her over to the pile of pillows beside them, but she did not wake, much to his relief. As she settled back in, mumbling something soft in her sleep, he covered her back up with one of the bannercloth blankets to ensure she wouldn't catch a chill.
His armor lay to the side of where they'd been resting, but Misraaks made no move to don it, opting for a simple wrap at the waist instead. It was more of a human custom of modesty than an Eliksni one, but he was well in the habit of deferring to such things when around the races of Sol. If he’d worn the armor, he could have used its built-in ether reserves and breathing mask, but in its absence he opted for a small, stand-alone canister and mask instead. Less of a hassle and quicker to access, he thought as he stepped out onto the room’s adjoining balcony to take a draught. The equipment wasn't terribly loud, but he didn't want to risk disturbing Sylvanni any further, and some fresh air would be welcome.
The breath of the ether synthesized from Sylvanni’s Light he’d taken was now several hours behind him, but though it had been potent, it had also been very small. Even a perfect breath of Light-ether could only last so long, and the thirst-need was clawing at him already. The reserve he attached now was regular ether, not Sylvanni's.
The first breath, familiar though the taste was, was inevitably a disappointment. The servitor’s ether he had always known was acrid in his mouth, unpleasantly metallic, even though it strengthened and soothed away the cravings. Like drinking brackish water run through a ship’s engine for too long, overfiltered but only to the barest level of potability. Sylvanni’s ether had been as water fresh from a cool spring: refreshing in its strength, sweet in its purity.
In many Houses, a Kell would demand the best for himself, but there were others among his people who needed the Light-gift far more than him. It had been too dearly wrought to be wasted on simple indulgence. Regular ether would sustain him as it always had, but he suspected it would never satisfy as it once had.
For a moment he imagined what it would mean if this Light-ether were to be available to House Light in greater quantity. He would never demand such a sacrifice from their hosts, but the words of the Hunter who had spoken, the Crow, could mean other Guardians might make the choice themselves. The bounty of the Great Machine, given freely. An unimaginable generosity, if so. One that could change the future of his House. What could House Light be if they never needed to fear an ether drought again? If they were sustained by the Great Machine's champions, in partnership instead?
Misraaks leaned out, lower arms crossed against a stable section of the crumbling balcony balustrade, looking out over the ruins that were his people's new home here. The oppressive veil of the Endless Night was a stark reminder that many challenges lay ahead before House Light would truly be safe. Their alliance was still tenuous, the Eliksni were dependent upon the City’s oft wavering goodwill and the Vanguard's uncertain promises of protection. But so long as there were those among the humans committed to peace, the Kell of House Light would stand committed with them. Where the hateful attack today might have stolen away progress towards unity, a selfless sacrifice like Sylvanni's offered the possibility of a new path forward.
As he stood there, watching the cage of the Vex grid undulate against the dark sky, a soft beep alerted him to the approach of another. Turning, he found a familiar Ghost, clad in a shell like lotus petals, floating up to join him on the balcony.
Misraaks offered a respectful bow to the little machine. “Mandala-Ghost, I greet you in the Light.”
Mandala’s one-eyed gaze lingered on the doorway back into the apartments. “She's… asleep. Really asleep. I don't think she's laid down to rest like this in… I can't remember how long. Months maybe?”
“I have discovered, in our time working together, that she is most singular in her dedication to her tasks,” Misraaks said. “To the exclusion of caring for herself, it would seem.”
“Thank you,” Mandala said softly. “For saving her today, for letting her stay here to rest, for… helping her feel safe enough that she could.”
Misraaks bowed his head to the little Ghost. “After the magnitude of the sacrifice she has given for my House today, this small act of hospitality is the least I could offer in return.”
Mandala grew quiet, though Misraaks could almost feel an expanse of questions stretching into that silence, waiting to be bridged by answers yet to come. But which plank to lay first? He sensed Mandala was wrestling with the same decision and chose to remain quiet, to let the Ghost determine the course of their conversation. Mandala's Guardian was the heart of what lay between them, and in such a case, even a Kell would find it was his place to defer.
Finally Mandala appeared to find the words for which he'd been searching. “As Sylvanni’s Ghost, it's my job to protect her. It’s what the Traveler made me to do. I heal her when she’s injured. I pull her back into life when she’s killed. I help her wield the Light so that she can fight back against our enemies. There was a time when I wasn’t there to protect her. Many of the moments where she needed me most, she faced alone. It’s still hard to think about that sometimes.
“I worry about what would happen, if we were to be separated again. But I also worry about the things a Ghost can't protect a Guardian from at all,” Mandala continued, sounding as small as he actually was for a change. “The things that can hurt her in other ways, that I can't do anything about. Obligations too heavy for her shoulders. Times she has been betrayed by someone she trusted.”
They were difficult topics for certain, and Misraaks kept his counsel, not wanting to interrupt until it seemed Mandala had finished.
“Today had a lot of heavy emotions,” the Ghost continued. “A-and I was very glad she had someone here to help her through everything that happened. Someone who was kind and… accommodating for her in a difficult time.”
Ah. It was a deliberate word, that ‘accommodating.’ Laden with concerns the Ghost tactfully hesitated to speak directly. Misraaks held up one of his lower hands indicating his intent to respond.
“I believe I sense your true question, Mandala-Ghost,” he said gently. “You would ask if my actions towards your Guardian today were accommodation alone, acceding to her because of the difficult experience?”
Mandala bobbed quickly in the air as though nodding. “I… I wouldn't fault you for that, f-for taking care of her desires out of compassion, if that's what happened. But, Misraakskel, she trusts you. More than I think she's trusted anyone in a very long time. She… cares for you. And if you don't share those feelings, I would ask that you be honest with her about that. Sylvanni's resilient, she can handle the truth. I don't… want to see her deceived, even if the lie was meant as a kindness. Not about this.”
Misraaks offered his lower hands, cupped as a place to rest. “You ask a question of great import, honored Ghost, and I would answer your candor with my own. If you would permit an explanation…”
Mandala floated closer, and though he did not actually touch down, Misraaks thought he could feel a hint of weight between his hands.
“When I first met the Lady Sylvanni, I had cause to be afraid,” Misraaks began. “I had heard the tales of her great suffering at Eliksni hands, and I feared I would find her to be callous or cruel. But she was neither. She held herself guarded, but she took pains to treat with my House in dignity. If I had worried that her efforts toward our goals would be conducted in apathy, I was resoundingly mistaken, as she proved herself a most stalwart ally. I found in her a woman who loved her people and her City with the selflessness of a martyr, and who would pay any price to do that which she believed was right. Even helping her former enemies, despite the deep anguish it caused.
“As our time working together lengthened, so too grew my admiration for her. And with it…” Misraaks paused, finding the next admission difficult. Even after today, he found a fear within at speaking this truth aloud. “And with it, affection.”
He closed his eyes, continuing more softly. “Knowing of her history, I was certain such feelings toward her from one such as me could not be anything but unwelcome. I resolved never to act upon them, never to speak them aloud to another soul, never to let her know how treasured the moments I shared in her company had become. I allowed myself to hope no further than gaining a measure of her respect, and would have considered that alone to be the greatest honor. When I thought of the day our work together concluded, I prepared myself to feel only gratitude for the time together and never ask for a moment more. She would be relieved to be done with House Light, and I would take what comfort I could in knowing she was happier for my absence.”
Misraaks turned, looking back into his darkened apartments, watching the subtle movements of Sylvanni’s breathing among the blankets as she slept. “To think that a time might come when she… when she would regard me with affection, that she would wish me to be near her, it was an unthinkable impossibility. I had thought it would be a cruelty upon her to imagine it, even in the privacy of my own thoughts.
“Yet here we have come, a day when she has not only shown me affection, but took comfort in my presence. A day when she has reached towards me with… a desire for intimacy, even. I still struggle to comprehend that it is real. That the Traveler could have made a woman so wonderful, and that she, unfathomably, should wish to rest in my embrace. I fear I will not be worthy of such regard, but I would not trade it for all the Light in the worlds.”
He focused back on Mandala, who had listened to this loquacious recounting in rapt silence, his mechanical petals widening in surprise, then settling back into something that looked like relief. Misraaks cupped his hands a little closer.
“If there was indulgence in our time together today,” Misraaks assured the Ghost, “twas not I indulging her out of pity or compassion. To the contrary, in partaking of these gifts of her presence, her trust, her warmth, the great indulgence is my own. I wish more than anything that these events had not come at so dear a cost to her, but I can feel nothing but joy in everything that was to follow.”
Mandala bobbed gently. “You mean that? You are… fond of her, in truth?”
Misraaks gave a low trill of affirmation. “Upon the name of my house, I can speak no greater truth. I have loved Sylvanni Duv for almost as long as I have known her. I am humbled and honored in equal measure that she should care for me in turn. For as long as she wishes me to stay at her side, I will be there. The Whirlwind itself would not tear me away.”
Mandala bumped against one of his fingers. “Thank you, Misraaks. You'll stay with her, won't you? She… she doesn't realize how much she needs people in her life. How much she needs someone like you, I think.”
Misraaks laughed softly. “I think perhaps she is starting to learn. But I will stay regardless. Of course I will stay.”
He took another pull on his ether rebreather, wanting to ensure he had as full a dose as possible before he went back inside. A groaning noise from within announced Sylvanni stirring, however, and he turned back to look.
“Mithrax?” She blearily called, reverting to the name more familiar in her drowsiness. He did not mind, though he hoped she wouldn’t feel embarrassed for it if she remembered later. As he’d told her, he was perfectly content with either version of his name she might choose.
“I am here, Sylvanni,” he said, already starting to tuck the ether hoses away. Mandala swooped back into the room to check on her. “Merely taking ether. I did not wish to rouse you.”
She mumbled something incoherent, the glow of her teal eyes muted in the dim environment as they blinked open. “Will you… come back?”
He gave a fond, bassy thrum as he stepped inside again, sliding the balcony entrance closed behind him. “Of course. Always. You should keep resting.”
After returning the ether system to its place on the shelf, he lowered himself back into the cushions and blankets beside her, keeping up that low, purr-like rumbling in his chest. Humans and Awoken, he’d found, found the sound soothing. As soon as he was near again, she reached out to pull herself close, tucking her body into the curves and crevices of his, and he did his best to shape himself comfortably to accommodate her.
Fitted together once more, she settled, eyes drifting closed again, breathing already slowing down as the sleep she’d neglected for far too long came to lay claim to her again. He combed his fingers through her hair carefully, enjoying the silky feel of the strands, and the way she tipped her head into the motion, unconsciously enjoying the touch. Mandala gently set down upon her as well, his shell drooping into a rest position as he nestled into the crook of his Guardian’s arm.
It was an impossibility, to lie here with her, to feel the motion of her chest with every breath, to be blessed to share with her a moment so quiet and vulnerable. A fearful piece of him feared he would wake from a slumber, and find this had all been naught but a fancy. The greater part of him knew better though. Something so wonderful was beyond his ability to dream up. In that case, it could not be anything other than real.
He closed his eyes as well, drifting off beside the Guardian he loved, blissfully content in the knowledge of that impossibly real impossibility that she would call him hers.