"Valkinvar..." I quietly mutter as I finish passing through the camp's smoke barrier. A sigh lingers and I come short of touching my ceremonial scar through these borrowed clothes. Nin's clothes. Running a finger along the scar's position, I ponder its validity. I failed my country, my people, I failed my husband-to-be...
Waionr's punishment for my failures was...
I come to a stop, turning my gaze towards the nightmarish mountain. The proof that I was saving myself for the God of War is gone... On top of my scar, that was something I needed to preserve until death. I have forever lost what belongs to something holy and divine.
To be a female Valkinvar, once upon a time, a redundant distinction... One has to keep their chastity intact and untainted in its entirety. It is one half of the key that would've allowed me to serve Waionr when I finally get put to rest. It is gone now. My broken promise stains my thighs and that chamber where it happened.
I... I spent...
"A century of service, of training and learning... I struggled all that time to join the Valkinvar and I..." I lament openly with watering eyes. A feeling deep down in my burning body claws its way out. Not one drop of fresh blood falls from me and I still feel as if a thousand blades have seen me up-close.
Putting both of my hands against my face, I back up against a tree and fall quiet. Despite being a soldier, one of the greatest ones in the land by virtue of my arcane strength. Despite the horrors I have faced on the battlefield over the cycles and the scars accrued... I can't summon the strength to fight back my tears. I...
I c-can't!
Chastising myself mentally, I slide further down the tree until I hit the ground. Feeling the thud, I get louder and louder as trembles rock my body. I should've been better than what I was that day the machine came... Waionr not only punished the army, he had also broken off his engagement to me...
I tried my hardest, but now it is all gone... Everything I ever was... Gone. Forever.
"Are you okay, Vapooliar?" Nin asks as he slowly shuffles towards me. Sniffling and crying still, I watch him all the way until he squats down. As the lack of an answer drags on, he starts to drum his fingers. Sometimes on his legs, other times on the ground.
Looking away, I rub my puffy eyes and try to hide them away from him. Feeling his hand take up my closest one, I look back towards him as he rubs his thumb on the back of it. Suddenly, he loses balance, and he thumps into a sitting position. Smiling ever so slightly at his antics, I decide to presume he did that for me.
Looking down, I notice the rusty jewellery near his ankles, "Nin... Do you have the time to listen to a few questions?"
"Sure, I have time," he answers as he returns the smile I gave him tenfold. It gives strength to mine where my body cannot provide.
I do not know if it is right of me to drag Nin into this, but... "Nin... If you spent your whole life being something, but then... But then you made a mistake that makes it so that you can't... What would you do?"
He frowns at my incomplete question and his hand holds mine again, "I would try to move on. I understand that... How... How big is the mistake?"
"Life-shaking..." I tell him, nearly sneering at the idea that it is all that apostate's fault. The Grand-Thoucomm... May he be forgotten.
He moves his anklets about awkwardly, "I'll be honest, I know this isn't what you want to hear... But I don't know."
Curling up, I try to hide my face once again, "T-That's ok..."
I know I shouldn't have tried to bring him into this, there is no way he'd be able to answer it...
Suddenly moving forwards, I gasp quietly as his arms wrap around me, "Just try to move on with your life, Vapooliar. It will be hard, I understand, but you'll find meaning once again. Life isn't always the same, you know? I mean, for me, I grew up on what we call the Children's Floor. It's a nice part of Tobaballe with everything you could want, but, when you get older, they throw you down to the Ground. You have to earn everything from that point onwards. It took me a while, but I got used to it. Maybe. I'd say you should try to do the same. Just get used to it and find someone to help you through it all..."
Hearing him fizzle out towards the end, I return the hug and look at his accessories. With how rusted they are, it makes me think of a prisoner. Perhaps he was one, once, though, not so soon in the past as to involve the slavers. There's not anything decorative about them. I just do not understand or know what the point of them is. He keeps them on for a reason, though.
"These bracelets you have on. What are they for? Or, what were they once if that is more accurate?" I ask as I move out of the hug. Sitting in a more comfortable position, I watch as he adjusts to something quite the opposite.
"The signs of the insignificant." he apathetically shrugs before he plays with them again. He lifts them up, rubbing them off on his trousers. He lets them drop once again.
"I don't believe you." I tell him, hoping there is a more optimistic outlook on this somewhere. Surely he's willing to lie, given the circumstances we find ourselves in?
"No, it is completely true. I haven't been working my trade long enough, nor did I do particularly outstandingly during my time at school. Walking out of there, I got slapped with a pair of these like most others." he elaborates before he shakes his right leg. It comes down with a twitching stomp, shaking the earth near us. He locks up, unsure of his strength.
"How long have you been doing it for?" I ask, curious as to what he might've been before. These clothes he gave me, they smell somewhat familiar. It reminds me of the armouries back at the Grand Temple of the Four-Winded Valkinvar. Or, more homely, rather, like my sword and armour when I clean and maintain them.
What's left of them now, anyway...
"About five years of my twenty-one years of life," he answers, to which my eyes widen slightly. I don't feel old, but, when there's someone a sixth of my age in front of me...
"You have many grand-cycles to look forward to, then. More than enough time to make something of yourself." I tell him, hoping I can maybe do something for him. Even if I am not feeling all that well...
"Grand-cycle?" he repeats, his brow already arched from when my eyes widened. Now, it's only getting a sharper curve.
"Oh, sorry, I'm just used to using the Cyclical System. It's an army thing, if that explains anything. A grand-cycle is equivalent to a year in the Dietic Calender." I explain to him before I smile at myself on the inside. It's funny, really. I was a holy warrior in the simplest sense of it. But we did everything under a clinical, purely mathematical calendar. We never used the system that has a day and month dedicated to who my husband might have been...
"Hm, so, what are the days and months, then?" he asks.
"Cycles and quarter-cycles." I answer with a nod. His head tilts as I mention the word 'quarter' and I have little issue grasping why. From a system of thirteen months with an alternating middle, it becomes four chunks. All made up of nothing but simple numbers.
"I prefer the Dietic Calender, to be honest. It has more character to it," he comments, and I agree with him. With all my heart, even if I struggle to understand what it wants now.
"I can agree with you on that." I say as another smile tries to form, my negative thoughts a strong counterbalance. The muscles at the edges of my lips are not powerful enough to overcome such terrible worry.
"So... Seen as it is relevant, I guess, if you still want to talk about it..." he starts to say as he looks around with a clueless gaze.
"What I was?" I question, just to make sure I understand what he is trying to ask.
"More so how long you have been doing it for? As I said, five years of my life fitting decorative panels into walls." he clarifies and I find myself intrigued by his words. I never thought I would owe myself to an artisanal worker.
"I'll try to answer both, then..." I say, pausing at the recent, foul memory, "I've been a soldier for about one-hundred and ten years?"
"Huh...?" he blinks.
"I'm one-hundred and thirty-three grand-cycles old, Nin. Or, years old, rather." I tell him, initially finding some amusement in it before he starts to take it differently.
"O-Okay... You're messing with me, right? There's no way you're much older than me... You might even be younger!" he lets out as bafflement chokes him.
"I was born in the year three-seven-eight-eight. Three-thousand, seven-hundred and eighty-eight of the Emerald Awakening, Nin. I am not lying to you." I say as I hide away any joy that might come up.
"I really should have an easier time of registering that rubbish, to be entirely honest..." he groans as he grabs his head to pull his face back. He abruptly strikes the ground and falls onto his back. Looking away, I sigh quietly and ponder what I had intended to ask him about.
"Nin, I know you have answered what you did for a living. But do you have any experience fighting?" I ask him as I focus on his otherwise slim frame. He has the signs of manual labour, but nothing I'd call particularly muscle-developing.
"No. By the god's no... I'm just a wall-engraver, someone who works with metal and makes pretty pictures in or on stone..." he repeats somewhat as he gets back onto his feet.
"I see..." I let out as I awkwardly rub my short hair. Nin's the first one in a while where I've felt like I have something longer. But I shouldn't let my thoughts go wayward at this time.
"Why? Oh..." he goes with his realisation as clear as the God of Thunder arriving. He struggles to look me in the eye and shuffles about.
"Our safest way out of here is strange..." I say as I agree with his feelings. I may have the power of a Valkinvar, but I do not want to go back in there. Seeing that chamber again... I wouldn't be able to handle it. Not with what happened there.
"The only way out of this is through...?" he dreads to know for sure. Our eyes share the view and I have a feeling we're both roughly focusing on the dark hole leading in.
"Yes, Nin. We will need to fight our way through the hive to escape. Vadei managed to find some weapons we can use besides what we already have. But there is no guarantee that we will always be in a position where gunning the osibindah down will be practical. So, it is in the best interests of everyone to know if you can defend yourself properly." I explain to him as his eyes widen and his body jitters. Rising to his feet, his mouth appears as if it has broken.
"Gunning...? You expect me to be able to know how to use a gun now as well...!? You saw quite clearly what happened when we walked out of that cave! I was thrown about, tossed aside, and you had to step in to kill it! I didn't do anything because I was scared! I'm scared now!" he panics as he paces about as best as he can. Standing up, I grab his wrist and keep him still despite his attempts to carry on moving.
The dried earth between us gains fresh cracks.
Firmly staring him in the eye, "Then let me help you. I might not be able to teach you much in the time we have, but... But I have time I can work with. I will pass on what I can and we will just work on it as much as we can in the few days we have left. Nin, I'm not asking you to go in as you are now."
"I get, what... Two, three? I GET NO TIME TO PREPARE AT ALL!" he roars in panic, the deadline an intimidating prospect for anyone.
Moving my grip to his hand, I make sure to keep it firm so he doesn't pull away. Maybe I am applying more strength than is necessary, but I want to reassure him somehow. I understand that he is not a blade that just needs a whetstone. But even a crude piece of iron strapped to a stick can become a weapon.
A stick on its own, even.
I am going to make something of him. For the sake of his confidence, I will. For the sake of the safety of our group, I will do it. So that we can all escape this hive, I will do it.
"I'm... I'm just going to find somewhere quiet for now." Nin tells me as he pulls away from my relaxing grip. Watching him as he leaves, I start to ponder what I can do for him. I've never taught anyone before... I've practiced with other soldiers, trained with my fellow Valkinvar.
But this is something new to me entirely, he hasn't a clue at all.
"The ways of a Valkinvar are not easily squeezed into such little time..." I mutter to myself as I look at what is left of my armour. It wouldn't be much, but maybe giving him a reasonable place to ground his mind might help him. He has no idea how to handle his strength, and this is all completely new to him. Watching him shuffle away, I also think about how the weight might help him.
If he's too scared to walk properly, he'll never come close to throwing a punch!