No shame in it.

[blessedwithlove]

Its omnipresence was still daunting.

Even as its grip slackened, the Greater Will still dominated the land. The golden light of the Erdtree illuminated Limgrave day and night. Turn your back to it, and you would see its children, mere seedlings that towered over all but their progenitor. Cast your eyes down, and you would see a Tree Sentinel patrolling astride his horse. Twice the size of a lowborn knight, clad all in gilt finery.

There was scarcely a tree in the Lands Between without a golden cast to its leaves. Blessed with Grace-given life, said the Golden Order. Autumnal, said others. The end of a millennial season.

It was little wonder that the Tarnished were still captivated. Without a more intimate knowledge of the Lands Between, they saw only the Erdtree's radiance, not the bare and dying branches. They flocked toward it like moths.

What fools they were. Intelligent, some of them, but fools all the same. Generations of hatred and scorn upheld by the Two Fingers, and now they answered the call to service? How could one be so delusional as to think the Golden Order would truly welcome them home with love?

No. They were being used, and he felt no shame in doing the same. Those who stayed loyal were fitting sacrifice, providing the materials he needed to guide the doubting toward truth.

And then there were the particularly hapless. That last girl and her companions, good heavens. He'd almost wanted to follow them, just to spectate. But he had his calling to attend to. Tarnished sailing from the west found the beaches of Limgrave the only place to row ashore, and they all passed by the statue-topped monument of the Fringefolk Hero's Grave. He had his pick of them all here, and sent them off toward the brooding walls of Stormveil Castle. Lords, vassals, rich and wretched alike. They came to take the measure of the hills beyond, and to rest at its Site of Grace.

The pallid little thing swirled and danced, leaving uncomfortably moving afterimages on the eyes if one stared too long. But it was warm enough at night to almost render a fire superfluous, and it warded off the beasts that stalked and soared over the lowlands to the south. Even the Tree Guardian kept a respectful distance, the brainlessly devout pillock.

After years of bloody toil in war, sleeping in the dirt beside a symbol of everything he rejected wasn't that much of a hardship. Though on nights when rain blew up from the Weeping Lands or the sea air took on a particular chill, he was forced to retreat into the entrance to the grave itself. There were the occasional noises deep below, the senile mutterings of deathless nobility trapped in the subterranean graveyard. None of them had yet figured out how to operate the lift, and he doubted any of them would.

He couldn't decide if they were the unlucky ones, or if that honor went to the desiccated starveling pinned to a martyr's bough outside on the hill. It barely ever lifted its head, and fortunately, it hadn't voiced an opinion about anything in days. He was no longer a merciful and compassionate war surgeon, but if that thing interrupted his speech to a Tarnished again, he'd find that old mercy within himself and tear it to pieces. Perhaps he'd do it anyway, save him the trouble later.

Ah, no. That would have to wait. He could hear something coming.

Comments

[blessedwithlove]

How well-mannered. He bowed his head--though the slouch he'd settled into made it less dramatic than hers.

"I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with warframes as well." Perhaps it was that armor she'd mentioned before, but he couldn't be sure. The term brought to mind something like those ghastly puppets the Carians were so fond of.

"But if it's value is so great, then Godrick's soldiers might seek to present it to their lord. And you, I fear, are not strong enough to challenge a demigod. Even one so debased as he." That was more truth than he'd told most in quite a long time. Godrick was the weakest of the Shardbearers, and all knew it. But so very many overestimated their chances, and he was largely content to leave them deluded.

"The merchant may know more. But I have my own sources as well. Perhaps I'll quit my vigil here, for a while. If you set off while I'm gone, do tell the merchant that we're acquainted? If I find anything of note, I'll follow." He was still uncertain of whether this was worth his time. But when had a Tarnished last shown any promise at all? This strange Ayatan was something different, in a land crumbling without renewal. That in itself was special.

[orokid]

The thought of someone using her warframe as some kind of prize almost made her see red but she forced herself to take a breath. There was no guarantee that was the case. There was still a chance it could be recovered and she could transfer back into it as long as it wasn't irreparably damaged.

"It would be a showpiece, if anything, for anyone who isn't a Tenno." She wasn't keen on explaining how the warframes were, technically, a living body and armor in one.

If only she had something to draw with besides a stick and dirt. At least then she'd be able to give him an idea of what to watch for. Maybe the merchant would be able to help there.

"I'll owe you one if you can help me find it."

[blessedwithlove]

Oh? How very protective that reaction was. Yet another thing to file away for later.

He brushed off the declaration. "It is my calling to guide you Tarnished. Those who seek to enact the Golden Order's designs are set on their path, where grace would guide them. But I have a fondness for those that come to these lands for their own reasons."

[orokid]

Protective indeed. The few times she'd been separated from her warframe had been enough. And it only added insult to injury to think of it being dragged around like so much refuse.

"You see a lot of people like that, I guess?"

Part of her wanted to say something about people trying to take advantage of someone so generous but something in her gut told her he knew. And could handle himself regardless of how he appeared. Then again, if everyone came out as bedraggled as she had been, it wouldn't be hard.

[blessedwithlove]

"Oh, some. They still come to these shores. But I'm afraid most are quite hopeless. I do what I can for them of course, but I am a surgeon by training. Some sorry cases are simply beyond the skill of man, or care of the gods. They must simply be sent on their way, to whatever fate awaits them." The devoted do seem to appreciate the chance to die upon lands stuck through with Erdtree roots.

"A young Tarnished and her entourage passed just the other day, in fact. You may meet them on the path, but they're some days gone now." He imagines they're quite gone to pieces now.

[orokid]

"A surgeon?" Unconsciously, she scratched lightly at her somatics. It was the last time she'd had any sort of major medical intervention, thanks to the void. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that any time in the future. Between the Stalker and Ballas, she was tired of fatal and potentially fatal wounds.

"I'll try not to add any extra work for you. Wouldn't want the void to react and maim you or something." She didn't want to leave people with one less helpful soul in this world.

[blessedwithlove]

"Yes, I'd rather it didn't," he replies dryly. "I'd like to live to see a new and gracious Lord in Leyndell."

Was that brash of him to say out loud? Of course. And entirely deniable. "I can tell you more, of course. But you may not wish to tarry long. The wind and rain cuts down from Stormveil at night." He didn't have to worry overmuch. As soon as she was gone, he'd return to the seat of the new dynasty. But he'd rather not arrive wet all the same.

[orokid]

She couldn't blame him. And a glance up at the sky gave her a moment of pause before nodding. If she didn't get moving soon, her warframe, if it was here, would end up further out of her reach than she liked.

"I'll see if that merchant has a notebook or something. That way I can give you an idea of what my warframe looks like next time I run into you." However long that might be. She could always slip back this way and see if he was around but, again, that risked her gear slipping away.

She got to her feet with a stretch, adjusting her amp just in case. "I'll get out of your way. Thanks again."

[blessedwithlove]

"Indeed. I would be curious to see it." Everything about this girl made him far too inquisitive. He'd have to think more on this before he committed, though in his heart he already knew what he'd decided.

"One last thing." He returned to his tone of instruction, for this was a part of his duties he'd neglected to complete for Ayatan. "Should you see an arc of golden light extending from Grace such as this," he gestured to the little mote, "then you behold the Guidance of Grace. A path for a Tarnished to follow. If not? Then the Greater Will has already decided you do not serve its purpose."

His disdain was fairly evident, but only implied by tone and restrained words. "Few see it now, but all claim to, lest they be taken as fallen from favor."

[orokid]

She spared a glance back to the grace, simple little thing that it seemed, and then gave a shrug. Maybe it was because of the void or because she didn't belong, but nothing seemed to stand out enough. Certainly no arc of light.

"Even if I did, you told me enough to know that the Greater Will and I wouldn't see eye to eye. Not sure I'd want to serve their purpose."

They'd definitely get along with their shared disdain. How quickly could the Greater Will just abandon someone who stuck a toe out of line? Had they before?

[blessedwithlove]

How interesting. Grace had restored her, but that was as far as it would extend its favor.

And her response was so very heartening. "Then may that intuition serve you well," oh, this gave him more confidence in his decision. "We'll meet again soon enough."

[orokid]

A friendly face, of a sort, and the assurance of meeting again. At least she could learn more later and had some kind of support. She wasn't used to dealing with all of this on her own, always having Ordis or the Lotus' voices echoing in her ears.

"Take care." Did he need to hear that? Probably not but she wasn't going to risk her only ally here.

With that though, she took a moment to stretch again before heading towards the church, cautious of the Sentinel and slipping seamlessly into the Void once she was close enough.

[blessedwithlove]

He watched her go, observing her passage until she simply vanished. The grass barely even seemed to move.

And now he was left alone, with the shimmering Grace. Did it know anything of them, he wondered. Of what he did. The little sprites were everywhere, even within the holy mausoleum. One couldn't be rid of them.

Not yet, at least. Oh, he longed for the day when the lands would be renewed. It would be soon.

And every knight that spilled blood in service to the Mohgwyn Dynasty might hasten its arrival.

He turned to the east and knelt, the brand upon his forehead flaring with burning heat. His course was set. Oh, it would be agony. But it was required of him now. And that made any pain a sweetness, to be joyfully accepted.

[orokid]

Spilling blood wasn't going to be a problem with her, she wasn't squeamish and she'd done enough killing recently and during the Old War to grow numb to it all. Or most of it.

So reaching the church and trading with Kalé, making sure she got a notebook to sketch out what her warframe looked like, and a back to carry her things in. The more she worked her way around, it became easier to remember how her body worked compared to a warframe. So sneaking and killing some of the knights, taking a sword, became much easier as well. Quick stabs to major arteries or slitting throats were her preferred methods for the moment.

If Varré had any trouble finding her, following the calculated carnage would help. AT least until nightfall, when he had a much better chance of finding her bloodied and hiding out instead.

[blessedwithlove]

The flame of the True Mother burned like no other. An endless vitality, so rich and vibrant and scouring. A catalyst by which the world could change. Even something so small as him.

The flame was still within him now. Every heartbeat was cowed by it, every vein scoured and raw. He'd voice to scream again now, but he would not. The pain mixed now with blessed surety of purpose, with a wide-eyed certainty, his faith was rewarded.

And the gifts he'd been granted must be shared.

He followed the death she'd left among Godrick's soldiers, their blood providing an easy trail to follow. The cuts on their bodies were as clean and calculated as a surgeon's mercy. Oh, he'd had a good feeling about this one, and it was always so gratifying to be right.

[orokid]

Anything less calculated was a waste of energy, outside of heavy combat. And she usually had a rifle or pistol then. It was a thought she tried to avoid now since it only made her miss her armoury.

After running into the Night's Cavalry though, she missed her weapons more than ever. Even just one of her swords would make a difference, she thought. And she couldn't help but stay on edge, hoping for a quick sunrise and that it left well enough alone like an eidolon on Cetus.

Her back was still bleeding from the flail and she was sure a couple ribs were broken, but the sound of someone approaching had her on her feet anyway, brandishing her knife.

[blessedwithlove]

The weak and stale blood of the soldiers was a poor trail to follow. Silly thing had followed the road, and that made tracking all the harder, for he wouldn't--he moved in parallel to the road, following animal trails and avoiding the cavalry come out to terrorize the land. The old blood faded to nothing soon enough.

But then, the bouquet he could smell on the wind, oh! It was like nothing he had ever known before. That must be her.

The trail left the road, and he followed it, kneeling to examine the stains upon the dirt, to discern the subtleties of its scent, to pluck a bloodstained leaf from the ground and tilt his mask up just enough to taste it.

It seemed almost to glimmer upon the tongue. Oh, he had made the right choice. Her blood already held a spark of something special within it. It could only be improved by the gift of nobility.

The scent of it grew ever thicker as he continued on, and a little twist of worry wormed its way into his flesh. There wasn't enough spilled to be fatal, but what else had been done to her? How hurt was she?

Not so hurt that she couldn't respond to his approach, with the wary stance of a feral, cornered thing. And yet-- "Your wounds! Poor thing, let me see to them. Quickly now."

[orokid]

At first, she suspected another of Godrick's soldiers but the familiar voice cut through the caution and she slowly lowered the knife, letting out a soft breath. Immediately followed by a hiss of pain.

"And here I said I'd avoid making work for you." There was a soft chuckle that she immediately regretted, letting herself flop back for a moment and wonder how he'd found her. She'd left some bodies along her path but she hadn't realized the trail was so discernible. Something to work on in the future.

Her shirt was already torn up so it wouldn't have been hard to poke and see though, at that point, she might as well scrap it and find someone who could craft leather.

"Think I cracked a rib or two."

[blessedwithlove]

He almost laughed, exhaustion and mania at war with each other. "I've appointed myself this task, and I'll see it done. here," he reaches into one of the pouches on his belt, retrieving a small packet of rose-infused boluses. "Swallow these. It will stop the bleeding."

He knelt to examine her back, teeth clenched behind the mask as the movement sent a shock up his spine. The wounds weren't clean, and pieces of her shirt were stuck to them. And something else lurked beneath the leather, though he couldn't yet tell what.

His skills were needed, then. "You'll need these cleaned before they can be healed."

[orokid]

There was a wary look at the boluses, nothing like medical care in the world she was used to, but she wasn't in much shape to refuse. She'd tried roasted kuaka on Cetus, how bad could this be? Even so, she made a face as she tried to swallow them as quickly as possible without tasting them.

"S'it that bad?" She didn't really need to ask but it was an odd comfort before she started undoing all the fastenings for her shirt. There was definite muscle tone under it but more noticeable, of course, was the blood and ink black tendrils that surrounded a relatively new scar.

[blessedwithlove]

"You will heal," he asserted, busying himself with the supplies he'd need, removing the pouch from his belt, so it could serve as a relatively clean, makeshift stand for the tools. "And the pain will ennoble you further."

Yet as she removed the tattered shirt, he... he had no notion of what he saw there. A grand and disfiguring scar, and... "What happened to you, dear one?" He cautiously touched near the mark, fingertips just shy of its edge.

[orokid]

She couldn't help a slight twitch at the touch. The skin there was still tender and the void scarring that spread from it was still new, a tingle on the skin like her blood.

"Old enemy stole my sword and killed me. Or tried to. Way he put it, he was sending me back to hell." He'd get his for that one, but then his words really caught her. No one had really called her 'dear' in more than an age. It left a warm feeling in her chest that she tried to shove aside.

"Don't worry too much about hurting me. I'm tougher than I look." Even if she was still immature in a lot of ways. Like swallowing the boluses like a child eating vegetables.

[blessedwithlove]

The attack she'd mentioned before. How lucky she was to be a Tarnished. Yet the death had still marked her, and in such a disquieting way.

His attention turned back to her latest injuries. He had rose oil. Sacred and potent in its concentration, but it seemed appropriate now.

"What a good soldier you must have been." His voice sounded rather distant. Most of his patients never kept their composure. Nor, admittedly, had he given them such care. That simply wasn't the way of a war surgeon.

He unstopped the vial and poured a few careful drops onto a tuft of clean, unspun rowa cotton. It instantly filled the air with the scent of roses.

Then he began his work, carefully spreading the oil over the wounds. The touch would hurt, he knew that. "This will inspire the wounds to reject impurities, and command the flesh to new life." The cotton was already stained so red with her unique blood. He would have to save these...

[orokid]

"It's all the Orokin thought we were good for." A good soldier? Oh yes. It had been a long time since the Old War, since they lived in service to the Orokin, but since they harnessed their abilities and bonded with their warframes-

The touch of the cotton and rose oil to her back earned a soft hiss but she clenched her teeth against it.

A distraction, that was all she needed to draw her mind from the sting. And his care provided the perfect thing to latch onto.

"What is that? I never smelled anything like it before."

[blessedwithlove]

He works with care, giving each wound its due. His hands were steady, despite everything. They always had been. It had made him an excellent surgeon.

"They've no roses in your homeland?" Truly? "What a tragedy. Beautiful things, the perfumers used to use these oils in their trade." In incense or poisons, they always smelled so sweet.

"There are many varieties, but these grow where blood's been spilled in abundance." The two scents blended so wonderfully together, even now. "Each place of slaughter in time becomes a garden, full of such beautiful flowers, protected by an armament of thorns."

His love for them is effusive, and why shouldn't it be? "They are a treasure, and a blessing." And they had become the sign of his devotion in turn.