Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Saint woke up in a field.

He stood, feeling the whistling winds chill through his fur. He was in a large series of fields, presumably once used for farming when their makers were still around. Now turned desolate and dry, by both neglect and the eternal cold of the recent icy climate.

He looked deep into the depths of his mind to find that eternal pulse of meaning. The reason for his existence, for all the thousands of cycles past and future. A moments concentration and his goal found him.

Only two for this excursion. A small ask concerning his last life, just cycles ago.

He started into the cold, towards the first mechanical god.

His travels through the fields were relatively easy. The cold began to bite through him rather quickly, and threats were not uncommon from both land and sky. But he was alive. And his progress had not been halted.

That seemed about to change. Ahead of him was a large pack of scavengers around a massive stick, the skull of a rain deer mounted on its peak with pearls strung from its ornate antlers. A scavenger toll.

Thankfully he had already snatched a pearl from the ground, bleached white by the endless cold. He walked calmly around the large divots in the fields and reached the shrine.

“Toll payment. One pearl or assorted items.” Said a masked scavenger near the tolls front. “We determine if said items are enough. No haggling.”

The Saint nodded politely. He held out the pearl in his hand and the scavenger took it. He waved the Saint through.

“Thank you.” The Saint said. The scavenger nodded as well. Saint moved through the intermingling scavengers and entered the tolls other side, continuing his trek through the fields covered in divots and potholes.

He walked for a bit before something caught his eye. A red spot in the snow-dusted expanse. He hopped lightly towards it to find a being.

A dark red slugcat, their body covered in burn scars leaving rough, dry skin patches as well as regular scars. Their right ear was a touch short, as if the end of it was severed. Another burn covered their left eye, leaving it permanently shut, useless.

They were laying on their back with their head propped on the slope, examining two small red rocks in their hands. They moved them up and down as if physically weighing them.

“Hello.” Saint greeted, looking down to them. “May I ask what you are doing?”

“Fuck off, fuzzball, I’m busy.” They spat. Their voice implied they were female, though it was gruff and ragged as if she shouted too often.

“Weighing rocks?” The Saint asked, only mildly disturbed by their rudeness.

She looked up at him. “Bombs, actually.” She said dully. “Y’know, explosives? Ones that’l turn you to ash if I give em’ an underhand toss.”

The Saint nodded. “I only wish you some small kindness. So if I may ask, why are you weighing them?”

She gave him an annoyed look for a moment. “I’m thinking about the consequences of blowing up that toll up there, though now it’s more enticing to blow up you.” She said.

“Are you perhaps trying to go somewhere?” He asked.

She sighed angrily, looking up at the sky. “Yes. Somewhere that isn’t inhabited by nosy idiots like you.”

He nodded. “Then you might wish to turn around. The closest exit to these arrays is not through this toll.”

“The closest exit to these arrays can shove it.” She said. “I’ve been wandering these goddamn fields for dozens of cycles, everything looks the fucken same. Fuck off already.”

“I could guide you.” Saint suggested politely.

She looked up and stared at him, extremely unimpressed and annoyed.

”Fuck. Off.” She snarled.

The Saint raised his hands in surrender. “If you wish.” He said. “But if you ever change your mind, my offer shall be available.”

She glared at him as he stepped away from the divot. Saint started into the snowy fields once more, the wind howling quietly in his ears.

It had been a cycle since the Saint had met the angry slugcat. As with most alone creatures he met, he wished she would have accepted his help. He knew from experience external anger often gave way to internal turmoil. But this particular slugcat seemed too stubborn to accept him. He sighed to himself as he hopped through the fields, sensing the way forward to the outskirts of his goals.

He was nearing the lower levels of the arrays. He was thankful, as the twisting, red plants and endless desolate expanses became rather boring scenery after a while. The place was so empty, the blizzard ravaging it cleansing any unprepared life. It made Saint a bit sad, even if he knew it was purposed. Nothing new would come without a new environment.

Something shook him from his thoughts.

A rustling in the short foliage nearby, the light snowfall left in the ground being tossed aside. Then the noise stopped. He turned and dropped to all fours, bracing himself to run. Nothing appeared in his vision.

He began moving slowly away. He glanced to his sides and behind, the noise sounding again as he turned. He switched back, seeing only disturbed snow leading in between half-covered divots.

He knew something was hunting him, just out of his vision. He wasn’t feeling optimistic on simply outrunning it. He weighed his options as he examined the snow.

“Show yourself, predator.” He said firmly into the cold air. “I am no fighter. If you wish my life, then take it for yourself.”

Stillness. Saint continued backing away.

Still silence as he stared at the snow. He continued slowly retreating.

Saint leaped in the opposite direction and began sprinting away. He ran for just a moment before he glanced behind him to see nothing chasing.

He stopped, turning slowly and examining his surroundings. He was far from convinced that he was safe. He thought for a moment before an idea crossed his mind.

Saint imitated calmness, shrugging and turning away before he began walking as he once was. He braced his ears for any disturbance.

Saint jumped in a turn as his ears sensed something. At the corner of his vision, he could see a red… something dive into a pothole dusted with snow.

Some pieces fell together in his head.

“…Ma’m?” He asked into the wind. “Is that you?”

He received no answer.

“My offer is still available. I will guide you from these plains with little resistance.” He stated plainly.

Another moment of silence.

The red slugcat he had met just yesterday surfaced from the hole, shaking snow from herself as she stepped towards him looking annoyed.

“Fine. Whatever.” She said, rolling her eyes as she walked up to him. “Don’t call me that.”

He tilted his head. “It is a term of respect, is it not?”

“I don’t care. Don’t call me that.” She growled.

He nodded. “Then what am I to call you?”

She stared at him for a moment, seemingly wondering if she wanted to be called anything at all.

“…Artificer.” She said. “You?”

“I am the Saint.” He stated. “Not in deed, more in standard.” He clarified.

She nodded looking unimpressed. “Mmhm. Got it.” She said, sounding annoyed with him. “Start guiding already.”

The Saint nodded, turning away. “Follow me.”

The two slugcats started into the fields together, Saint with satisfaction and Artificer with mistrust.

Chapter Text

The next day they continued their travels, the shelter and the walk to it proving uneventful. Saint knew most slugcats slept rather close, even when not close emotionally, but it did not surprise him when the Artificer curled into a corner and shut her functioning eye without a word. Nor did it surprise him that when he said goodnight to her, she did not respond. Still, it made him somewhat sad.

So now they were simply walking across the plains, the wind whistling past them. The terrain began to differ in evenness, divots giving way to large chasms in the rocky ground, leading to tunnels underneath dug by centipedes and lizards. Patches of strange grass began to pop up in patches, then in fields. Hills sloped up and down, leading out and into more underground caverns. This place seemed somewhat more inhabited.

They reached a large field of the grass, extending into the distance both forward and to their sides. Saint began looking around the nearby divots as the Artificer reached the edge with him.

“You got a plan to deal with this stuff?” The Artificer asked, pointing to the field. The closest grass began to sway towards her extended hand, blue eye-like dots appearing on their ends as they wriggled towards her. Worm grass. The Artificer stepped back, grimacing. 

“One moment.” He said, crawling into a small tunnel. He clambered back out holding a small grey orb, covered in green spots and with a string-like extension from one end.

“Mm. Wonderful.” The Artificer said sarcastically. “An inedible puffball that turns to dust when you drop it.”

The Saint chuckled slightly. “Nothing in nature is useless, my friend.”

“Wrong, and wrong.” She corrected. “Many things are useless, and I am not your friend.”

The Saint gave a small sigh at her comment, then looked back to the field. He tossed the puff into the air and let it hit the ground, exploding into a cloud of-spore like dust. A great cry of some beast rang out in the distance.

“Oh, hooray! Now something’s coming to eat us.” The Artificer mused sarcastically.

 The Saint gave her a slightly annoyed look. “You are rather pessimistic.” He stated.

“Mmhm.” She confirmed. “You new here?”

Before he could respond, the worm grass nearby began to writhe and sway, seeming sort of… frustrated. The source of their frustration appeared over the horizon.

A great, black lump of a body with four legs so thin they resembled strings hung from their form. Their head was another lump, with full yellow eyes and intricate, ornate antlers. A rain deer, pulling itself across the field as it towered above them.

The Artificer lowered to four legs and growled quietly at the deer as it approached. The Saint chuckled slightly as he waited.

The deer lowered downward and sniffed the ground where the puff dropped, some unseen mouth picking up the spores and dust. The Saint walked gently atop its head and took hold of one of the antlers, looking back to the Artificer.

“I’m not doing that.” She spat at him before he could speak.

“It is the only way across these fields.” He said. “These little ones wish us no harm.”

“Nope. Don’t care.” She said, shaking her head. “That’s gonna drop us, and I’m not standing shoulder to shoulder with you.”

The Saint sighed. “Well. Feel free to change your mind.”

The deer began to seem satisfied with its half-meal. It glanced around and began to slowly raise back upward, before looking at the Artificer and stopping. It stared at her in silent questioning.

She stared back, then groaned quietly. She jumped into the air and a loud crack sounded, launching her over the Saint’s head. She flipped through the air and landed on the deers back, immediately scrambling to the top of one of the antlers and looking down on Saint disdainfully.

Saint gave her a surprised look as the deer processed what she did. “Where did you learn that little trick?” He asked curiously.

“Biology.” She said, sounding annoyed. “It’s just a thing.”

The Saint nodded in interest. The deer rose to its full height and started back across the field, the grass nipping at its thin legs as it pulled forward.

“Have you ever ridden a deer?” Saint asked into the wind as he leaned on the deer’s head, looking forward into the field.

“No.” She confirmed. “I like to keep myself out of death traps.” She said indignantly.

“You are rather paranoid.” Saint pointed out.

“No.” She retorted. “You’re just delusional.”

Saint sighed into the wind. The fields had left their vision, the horizon giving way to a cold mist of wind and snow. He found it rather serene. It was helpful to distract from the circumstances.

He spent some time wondering what to do. What kind of acts may earn any favor from his angry companion. She seemed to find him outright annoying in demeanor alone, and he couldn’t yet see why. He was puzzled, and a little sad to think what may lay behind her exterior.

There was silence for a while as the deer took them across the field. The white haze of the snowfall began to encroach upon them, closing in the horizon as the wind howled. The deer crooned softly on occasion, a strange sound being the only thing combating the storm.

They reached the end of the field in silence. The beast silently let them down once it reached the end of the field, raising only slightly above the wriggling grass beneath. The two hopped off and back into the plains.

The terrain was different now. The ground was now topped with large blocks of metal with gaps in between each, seemingly endless rows of structures used for some unclear agricultural purpose. Large orange plants stuck out from the ground in between them. Larger structures loomed in the distance, massive platforms supported by equally large support beams, some broken and some not. Far more life thrived than the empty, cold plains of before, though it was all clearly tainted by the snow.

“Hey, look. Lunch.” Artificer said, sounding bored.

The Saint followed her gaze to a block in the distance. Crawling from it was a very large lizard, caramel in color with six, strong legs. It gazed around with its black eyes into the distance, then reared back and leaped across several blocks.

Saint turned to her. “You speak of the lizard?” He asked.

“Yeah. I could take it.” She replied. “Probably enough to feed both of us, those guys are some large bastards.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I will have to refuse.” Saint said. “I am a herbivore.”

She gave him an annoyed look. “…Guess that makes sense.”

The Saint nodded in confirmation. “Alongside, I am a pacifist. While I won’t stop you from-”

“Pacifist?!” She interrupted. “Really?!”

Saint gave her an odd look as he paused for a moment.

“…While I won’t stop you from attaining your own meals…” He continued. “I will not partake in the violence.”

The Artificer groaned angrily. “Great. Wonderful. While we’re telling each other about ourselves…” She leaned down and grabbed a rock. She tossed it in her mouth, chewing on it a moment before spitting it back out. It now had a sort of red x across it. “I generate explosives. In case you weren’t aware that your plan to help me is stupid.”

Saint nodded his head to the side in acknowledgment. “I will try my best nonetheless.”

She sighed angrily. “Whatever. I’m getting lunch.” Without another word she turned and began leaping across the blocks towards the caramel lizard.

Saint hopped to follow her, mostly out of curiosity. He reached a point where he was satisfied with the distance and sat, watching as she prowled closer to the lizard. She had grabbed a sharpened stick to use as a spear on the way and was now crouched low, creeping towards her target.

With an angry hiss she leaped from her block to the caramel lizard, stabbing her spear into its back and leaping to its side. It turned to face her with an angry bellow, only slightly fazed by its wound. It quickly charged forward and she launched over it, a loud bang sounding out and sending sparks flying from her. She tossed the spear into its back and landed; the bomb still clutched in her other hand.

It was no less fazed by the stick now stabbed into its back. She hucked the grenade right as it turned, shattering off pieces of its armored head and knocking it onto its back. She leaped atop it and began tearing away with sharpened fangs and claws.

After a moment clawing at its throat and stomach, it began kicking with its six legs. It flipped over and nearly crushed her with a stomp. She slid herself from under it and launched away, grabbing another sharpened stick. She launched back over and threw the spear as it charged once more, lodging it in its back as well. She dove to the side to avoid another bite and rolled back in, pulling the spear from its flesh and kicking back off of it.

She attempted to pull the same trick once more, though the beast was ready this time. It leaped into the air as well at surprising speeds, body-slamming her out of the air and sending her rolling into one of the gaps between blocks. She jumped out of it with her spear till in hand, rage on her face. As the lizard leaped across the gap between them, she launched the spear upward.

It pierced its target head on, lodging partially in its throat. The lizard landed and a horrible sound rang out, part of the stick breaking off as the rest shot further into the beast's thick skin. It did not get up from the fall.

The Artificer bounded over to its body, yanking out the broken spears still embedded in its flesh. Saint averted his eyes as she tore into her prey. When he looked back it was halfway unrecognizable, bones sticking out from a mangled midsection with several broken off. The Artificer hopped over to him, licking viscera from the corners of her mouth.

“Enjoy the show?” She inquired sarcastically as she reached him.

“Partially.” He responded. “The combat was rather impressive, though the… mangling afterward seems unnecessary.”

She gave a small, annoyed sigh. “If you say so.”

“I do say so, Artificer.” Saint said as he turned to follow her. “Is it too much to ask to show some kindness to life around you?”

“I’ll show some kindness to life when it shows some to me.” She said apathetically.

“I find it hard to believe fate is against you.”  He said, following as she walked.

“Are you trying to annoy me?” She asked, sounding as if he had succeeded. 

Saint thought for a moment if it was worth continuing this conversation. He took a moment to calm himself.

“…No. I am trying to encourage some kindness.” He stated after a moment.

She turned angrily to him. “Were you born yesterday?! Everything, everywhere is the worst, why the fuck should I show kindness to a fucking dead lizard?!”

Saint’s temper returned suddenly in time with the Artificer’s. “You truly believe there is nothing good in this life? Look around yourself!”

“I have fucking looked around, and all I see is that!” She yelled, pointing angrily to the corpse of the lizard. “So stop telling me how to eat my fucking food!”

“Artificer, I am not doing that.” He said firmly as he turned to see her. “I’m simply saying you needn’t mangle the-”

“Have you not noticed how fucking awful the world is?!” She yelled, turning back to him. “All you do is spout nonsense about how wonderful everything is as if we don’t live in a hellscape! Everyone, everything is cruel, bloody, and meaningless! And I’m not going to be scorned by some high-and-mighty rat for being a fucking part of it!”

The Saint paused, giving a small sigh.

“…Artificer. I am not naïve. I-”

“Don’t even start.” She interrupted. “Yes. You are.”

“I am not deprived of this world’s cruelties.” He said angrily.

“Is that fucking so? Then what have you gone through, you wannabe martyr?” She asked. “What ‘cruelties’ have been placed onto you?”

“One of them is standing in front of me, and yet I am still offering to guide her out of these endless plains.” Saint jabbed.

The Artificer stared angrily at him.

The wind howled through the silence.

Something else lay at the corners of her expression. Pain? Sorrow? He could not tell.

“And yes, Artificer.” He said prematurely. “I will still do so. Because I want to help you.”

She stared for a moment.

“…then start guiding, asshole.” She muttered.

Saint stepped past her and leaped onto the next block, continuing into the storm. When he glanced over his shoulder, she was still behind him.

The wind began to howl louder as they moved across the sloping planes and rows of metal structures, the eternal storm slowly worsening as it did every cycle. The Saint turned his own words over in his head as they did so.

That comment was hurtful, he knew that. And to his surprise, the Artificer seemed to agree. She avoided his gaze with a different emotion hidden beneath her mask of anger, something like anguish or pain. By her own words, she deemed herself just as horrific as everything else, willingly so. Why would she care if Saint agreed?

He wanted to say sorry, he really did. He knew it would do nothing. A simple one would be unmoving. A heartfelt one might only increase her dislike of him, as she didn’t seem one to enjoy emotion. And, furthermore… was he not correct?

Rude. Violent. Angry. Hurtful. That was all she had been to him, and the rest of life around her. Void, the first thing she planned to do when they spoke was blow up a scavenger toll, presumably to get past without payment, but it wasn’t a stretch to think she’d do so for fun. Why was he even guiding her?

No, no. Don’t think like that. If she was some embodiment of evil, his comment would have done nothing. Saint had been in most sides of this kind of relationship. He troubled over what to do as he gave another glance behind to check she was still following.

“Can you stop looking at me?” The Artificer asked.

He turned his gaze back to her. “I simply wish to assure I have not lost you, though I will try.”

“Look at you, making sure ‘one of this world’s cruelties’ is safe.” She said dully. “How nice.”

The Saint sighed. “I am sorry. That was rude and untrue, I should not have said that.”

“Don’t try to backtrack.” She said disdainfully. “I told you. Everything and everyone is the worst. That includes me, and you.”

He stared at her, a little hurt for a moment.

“…Have you… been told that before?” He asked her.

“If you think for a moment you’ll answer your own question.” She spat.

“…Hm.” He grunted.

He thought for a moment, choosing his words.

“I… I am sorry. For past and present.”

“No. No you are not.” She snapped. “No one is.”

He gave a small sigh.

“…There should be a shelter nearby. Perhaps…” He looked out to the arrays behind him. “…Tomorrow will be better.”

“Keep hoping.” She muttered.

The two walked silently down the platforms and into a small shelter shelved in the rocky divots in the ground. The two took their places on opposite ends of the shelter, the Artificer curling up and shutting her eyes as the door's locks fell into place. Saint sat, looking sadly at her. He began to step forward, drawing breath.

“Don’t touch me.” She snapped, opening her functioning eye.

He stepped back and sat down. She closed her eye once more. Saint took a moment to think.

“…Goodnight, Artificer. I will see you tomorrow.”

With that, he curled up and closed his mind. He received no response. Saint fell asleep, wishing he had done better.

Chapter Text

Saint did not sleep much. He spent quite some time staring at the shelter’s ceiling, thinking. He wanted to repay his failures the day before, his words and failed attempts at kindness that succeeded only in annoying her.

He wracked his mind and found little. A favorite food of hers would likely be alive and asleep. A more symbolic gift, a trinket or a particular item would do little when she mistrusted him so thoroughly.

Of course, there was another gift he had given before. A karma flower. It wasn’t much, especially not to her. But… he had to do something.

He could grow it right here. Out of the metal floor. But that would raise questions he couldn’t answer. He could stealthily make one on their journey, but that would make it seem as if he simply picked a random flower and gave it to her. It left him with one, annoyingly complicated option.

So, Saint waited. Staring at the ceiling for the whole night. It was not particularly difficult for him to go without sleep, though it wasn’t pleasant. His internal clock claimed the cycle was starting soon. He sat up and waved a hand at the Artificer, a symbol appearing briefly above her head and dissipating. He then concentrated the void within his blood.

Saint was outside, on the ground untouched by morning snow. He got to his feet and looked around, finding a particular hill on the fields that opened to the sky. He bounded lightly across the structure to its peak and sat down, clearing his mind.

Once more he let the void flow through him, his fur standing on end as a tingling feeling pushed itself through him. A speck of light appeared on the ground in front of him. His consciousness faded into the back of his mind as he slipped into concentration.

A karma flower appeared in front of him, glowing with brilliant gold more than any average one in nature. A symbol of the effort and time he had placed into its conception. His shook his head to clear his mind, finding the morning winds had covered him in a slight layer of snow during his meditation. He picked the flower as delicately as he could and ran back to the shelter. Its locks were already opened.

He slid inside and sat down, trying to look calm. Thankfully, the Artificer was still asleep. He feared his little spell might fail for a variety of reasons, but he had been lucky. 

He waited patiently for a bit, watching over her and the door to assure no danger found its way inside.

Her eyes flickered groggily. She yawned and sat up, stretching her front legs. She relaxed, standing sleepily for a moment before a puzzled expression appeared on her face.

She glanced from Saint to the open shelter, looking confused. “…How long did I sleep?”

“Maybe five, ten minutes past the cycle’s beginning.” Saint stated plainly. “I am glad you slept well.”

“The hell…?” She muttered to herself. “Haven’t slept easy in…” Her voice trailed off.

“I took the time to find you a gift.” Saint mentioned.  

She looked to him; an eyebrow raised. Saint stepped forward and took the flower from behind his back, holding it between his fingers out to her.

She stared at for a moment. Her puzzled gaze flickered from it to Saint.

“It is not much, I know.” He said as she plucked it tentatively from his grasp. “But I wanted to do… something, at least, to repay my failures of yesterday. Even if it’s meaning is….” He sighed. “Lacking…”

She held the flower between her fingers, staring at it confusion.

“…You just… went out and found a karma flower?” She asked, sounding puzzled, her gaze still flickering between Saint and the flower.

“Yes.” He confirmed. “Again, I wish I could’ve done more. I’m sorry.”

Her gaze continued to flicker between him and the golden plant, confusion turning to a sort of sadness. Or maybe… longing. Shame, perhaps? It wasn’t clear.

”…Why?” She asked, sounding mistrustful.

“Because I am sorry.” He repeated. “

She held it delicately in her palm for a moment longer, her expression changing to a sort of indignant sorrow.

Her fingers began to curl inward, then stopped.

“…What do I do with it?” She asked, the same mistrust in her voice mixed with something different.

“…Whatever you like.” He replied simply.

She stared for a final second.

She let her hand fall to her side, the flower floating gently down to the ground below. 

She placed her foot on the stem and swept it from Saint’s vision.

She nodded her head to the door. “…Start guiding.” She said firmly.

Saint paused a moment, examining where the fallen flower once was.

He started from his thoughts, then nodded. He crawled out of the shelter, the Artificer following behind.

Once more they had returned to silence as they made their way through the structures and fields. The barren landscape was further wiped away, nearly fully covered in large metal structures and platforms. Perhaps for some sort of storage, now decaying as life burrows through the broken compartments. Worm grass wriggled in patches, somehow finding life in the bent and broken metal. Large ceilings covered the sky occasionally, loose pipes and wiring falling from the steel. Tunnels then led out to the snow and wind, an eternal, strange contrast.

Saint was standing on the edge of an outdoor platform, gazing into the large metal shelves in the distance as he tried to sense his way forward. Artificer stood by his side, waiting. Though Saint didn’t fully notice, something in her demeanor was… different.

“…Hey, uh… Saint?” She asked, seeming unsure of what she wanted to call him.

“Yes?” He replied simply, still looking to the distance.

She paused a moment, choosing her words. 

“…How do you know where we’re going?” She asked.

Saint had an excuse prepared for this. “I have traveled these lands before.” He stated.

“Hm.” She grunted. “Where’ve you been?”

“Everywhere.” He said plainly.

“Oh, really. Sure.” She said, rolling her eyes.

Saint chuckled a bit. “Further than one would imagine.” He corrected.

“Do you know what a landmark is?” Artificer asked, annoyed.

“There’s none left.” Saint pointed out. “All of them have fallen to the snow.”

“They’re still landmarks!” She rebuffed. “Hell, are you trying to be annoying?!”

Saint nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Sorry, sorry. But I have been many places. Enough to near some other of those large facilities.”

“Oh… hm.” She grunted, seeming as if disturbed by something. Reminded of a memory.

Saint studied her expression for a moment before he found the way forward. He filed the interaction away for later.

“Through there.” Saint said, pointing to a tunnel leading underground, a wall of metal preventing above ground progress. He hopped off the platform and the Artificer followed behind.

Before long, they reached the tunnel and crawled in, Saint going first. They found themselves in a complex of underground crawlspaces, dens and holes dug out of the dirt. Marks and footsteps of centipedes disturbed the dirt they crawled through as Saint sensed the way forward.

“Your aware that we’re in centipede hell, right, fuzzy?” Artificer said from behind him. “This is a horrible idea.”

“I have faith-” He paused to grunt as he pushed himself past a corner. “…That it will work out.”

“You’re an idiot.” She stated plainly.

“Perhaps.” He conceded.

They crawled for a bit more until the tunnels opened up, a larger dug out cavern filled with mounds of dirt and dust. Smaller centipedes wriggled through the dirt; their parents absent. Saint shimmied out of the tunnel and stood, stretching as the Artificer crawled out as well. She eyed the several other tunnels in the walls and floor with suspicion.

“If you will accept the taste of centipedes, there are some snacks for you.” Saint pointed out.

“Yeah, no.” She said dully. “In this deathtrap?”

“Artificer, nothing has even threatened us yet.” He pointed out, tilting his head.

As if one cue, a skittering sound drew their attention across the cave. A large centipede scampered out of a hole in the wall and froze, orange scales glimmering, the feelers on it’s heads flickering as it probed the air.

“This is your fault!” The Artificer whispered.

“…Quiet. And slow.” Saint whispered, frozen still where he stood.

“I know how fucking centipedes work, dipshit!” She hissed. She gave the centipede an angry look as it briefly moved to face her with one of its heads.

“Then you should know how to make a meal of it.” Saint said quietly.

“And what?! Call more of them?! I’m not even armed!” She whispered angrily. 

Saint nodded in admittance, somewhat annoyed. He dropped quietly to four legs and began creeping across the cavern, pressing himself to the wall opposite from the insect. It encircled itself around the mound containing its young and continued flickering their antennae. Artificer began to follow him.

For a moment, things seemed to be going well. The centipede did not move as they crept across the cave, towards the direction Saint sensed they needed to go. Saint passed by another tunnel.

Something skittered between his legs.

He saw another smaller centipede scamper out from beneath him, some miracle causing it to not notice him. It perched atop another mound of dirt, looking over the parent centipede.

Saint paused, a mixture of afraid and relieved. He slowly let out a breath he did not know he was holding.

They kept moving for a bit more.

Saint slipped on a loose pebble, kicking it across the ground.

The larger centipede skittered towards them, then stopped.

They crawled a bit closer. Saint began to fear the worst.

A skitter closer.

The Artificer dove upon the insect before it moved any further, rolling in a tangle as she sunk her teeth into its flesh. Saint jumped, startled, and scampered as far away from the conflict as he could manage. The little centipede looked around randomly, equally confused.

The Artificer was now wrestling the centipede, laying on one of its ends as she clawed and bit at the other. The trapped head wriggled and flailed beneath her, static electricity buzzing in between its antennae. The free one was locked onto her neck as she scratched at it.

Saint glanced around the room, trying to find a way to help, or at least assure no backup came to help the centipede. The Artificer blasted the centipede off herself and rolled to her feet, chucking a rock at it as she stood. It skittered back across the room to grab her, the smaller centipede skittering in confused circles.

Saint gave up thinking and picked up a rock, throwing it as hard as he could at the skittering insect. While not a particularly impressive throw, it did cause the bug to turn its eyeless gaze to him. The Artificer took her chance and leaped onto it, ripping away scales with her fangs and claws.

Saint noticed an orange glint in one of the tunnels.

From the ceiling crawled an absolutely massive centipede, overgrown and nearly double the size of the one the Artificer was currently wrestling with. Saint instinctively picked up another rock and threw it at the bug. It dropped from the ceiling and writhed for a moment, startled. Then it got to its feet, taking up an entire side of the cave.

The Artificer launched the centipede off of her once again, the insect weakened and wounded from her vicious assault. Both of the bugs’ antennae writhed and flickered, trying to sense the threats.

Saint had an idea. He dove back into the tunnel he crawled from and scrambled to find anything even somewhat sharp. He nearly stabbed through his palm on the tip of some broken steel bar. He struggled a moment to pull it from the dirt before scrambling back to the cave.

The Artificer launched across the room and happened to land near him, the bugs turning upward to face the noise she made. She had managed to loose a scale from the overgrown centipede; though it was clear a wrestling match would be unwinnable. Saint pressed the makeshift spear into her hand and shoved himself back into the tunnel. Artificer gave him a puzzled glance, then found the sharpened metal in her hand. Worry and caution turned to anger and confidence.

She turned her gaze to the bugs, maddened, righteous fury in her single eye.

She dove over the injured centipede as it skittered towards her, rolling and jabbing into its exposed flesh. The overgrown one skittered towards her and retreated when she cut across its head with the serrated point. She launched the spear into the injured on and rolled over it as she grabbed it once more, pulling it as she stood and stabbed straight into the same wound. As it contorted in pain, she pulled it a final time and darted to the head, shoving the spear straight down the length of the bug. It went limp as she turned to face the remaining insect. The small one already scampered away in fear.

The centipede had already reached her, leaping and locking its head onto her. The two tumbled as the bug wrapped its coils around her. As they steadied, she stabbed fully through the centipedes opposite head and pinned it to the dirt. She took the time that gave her to claw and tear at its form, blood and scales flying away. She launched and kicked away from the centipede as it freed itself, landing on all fours and growling at the wounded bug. It stood on shaky feet, using the one functioning antenna it had to find its bearings.

She gave it no room to breathe, racing towards the head with her spear still lodged in it. She pulled it from the wound and raced back to its midsection as it writhed in confusion. She stabbed the spear through its middle point and into the ground, pinning it once more. Then she snapped off some of the spear and darted to one of its heads, repeating the same action. She raced to the center of the two pins, sunk her fangs into revealed flesh and pulled, ripping the segments of the bug in half.

She spat the segment she ripped off out onto the ground, taking a moment to catch her breath.

“…I fucking hate bugs.” She said angrily to the corpse, one of its small legs falling from her mouth.

Saint crawled from the tunnel he shoved himself in, grimacing slightly at the remains. “…Inventive. If… discomforting.” He remarked.

The Artificer wiped blood from the corners of her mouth. “Get used to it. Since you somehow haven’t already.”

“To you or the inherently cruel and gruesome nature of life?” He inquired curiously.

She gave him an annoyed look. “Both.” She said. “Not far apart anyway…” She muttered. The way she said it gave Saint some pause.

“Let’s get moving, I want out of here.” She ordered.

Saint nodded and moved to the tunnel they needed to crawl through. Soon they exited the system and found themselves back in the fields dotted with metal. Saint took a moment to determine where they were headed next. He searched for the shelter symbols carved into rock in the meantime, the wind howling in his ears as the chill cut through his fur.

“…Hey, uh…” The Artificer began. “Thanks for the spear. Back there.”

Saint looked to her and gave a slight smile. “My life was on the line, to be fair.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just…” She agreed, nodding. “…Figured I should. Say something. Cause we would’ve died.”

Saint shrugged slightly. “I had faith in you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” She asked sarcastically.

“To escape, if not keep us both alive.” He elaborated. “Perhaps I should thank you for not leaving me behind.”

She looked a little annoyed. “Alright, optimist…” She muttered under her breath.

Saint again found himself studying her expression, examining the inflection in her words. She gave him another annoyed look.

“…Stop staring at me.” She snapped.

Saint started from his thoughts. “Sorry, sorry.” He apologized.

There was a moment of somewhat awkward silence.

“…The way forward is there.” Saint said, pointing to a distant structure. “Hopefully there will be shelter.”

She made a gesture for him to lead the way. Saint started off with her close behind, the white haze of the storm beginning to obscure the features of things in the distance.

The fields and hills had lost most, if not all, presence in the environment. Platforms and metal ceilings blocked out the sky more often than not, worm grass beginning to cover the ground in larger fields. They were forced into the metal shelves and platforms to avoid the wriggling plants below, the storm howling ever louder as they methodically hopped towards their goal.

“Uh, Saint?” Artificer asked as he judged his ability to leap a gap. “You’re… turning white?”

He looked back to her, shivering ever so slightly. “Yes. It is a biological quirk.”

“You change colors?” She asked, puzzled.

“Under certain circumstances.” He specified. “In cold I turn white. In further cold I begin to turn somewhat black. In further I turn a rather ugly dark red.”

“And after that?” She questioned.

“I die.” He said simply. He leaped across the gap and looked back to her, smiling slightly. “But that is rare, and difficult. Do not worry.”

She nodded and leaped after him. She seemed to think for a moment, her gaze flickering around. Her expression flashed from concern to indignation.

“…Don’t plan on it.” She said, somewhat backhanded.

Saint gave a small sigh. He turned and continued toward their goal.

A little later they reached a shelter, with a slight caveat. The structure they stood in was slightly collapsed, worm grass creeping up a bent and broken platform. The shelter was a solid six feet above them.

The Artificer walked to reach Saint’s side as he gazed up at the tunnel. She drew breath to ask how he’d reach it before a flicker of something seemed to launch him up to the entrance, where he hung as he looked back to her.

“What the fuck?!” The Artificer yelled, somewhat startled.

The Saint looked puzzled. “What?” He asked.

“How did you- like- what?!” She stammered.

Realization crossed Saint’s face. “Oh. It is another quirk of mine.” He stated simply. He allowed his tongue to leave his mouth, and it stretched far longer than one should. He then pulled it back into his mouth. “My tongue fulfills a similar purpose to a grappling worm, if you’ve seen those critters before.”

She gave him a concerned look. “…That’s disgusting.” She said.

The Saint shrugged. “From a certain point of view.” He admitted. He crawled into the shelter. The Artificer took a moment to process, then leaped after him.

A press of the button by the shelters side and the locks began to close, the slugcats taking their places on opposite sides of the shelter. Saint laid down and closed his mind, finally finding time to think as the cold left his systems.

Today was… odd. Progressive, perhaps. He may have earned just a smidge of favor from her. At least she didn’t despise him anymore. The day’s beginning was likely to blame for that. How she had found that path, he did not know.

But something still seemed to tug at her. A mixture of pain that made her push him away. Something fundamental, dug deep into the both of them that drove a rift between the psyches. She seemed to still dislike his ideals, and his attitude. But it wasn’t just annoyance anymore. Something like… resentment? That might be wishful thinking. Then again, wishful thinking brought him into this, and he planned to have it keep him in it.

It was rather confusing. It had been so long since he’d met someone so complex. He began to wonder if he had ever met someone the same as her. Perhaps that was some form of recency bias. Though each word she spoke seemed only to raise more questions.

And of course, at the center of this hurricane of thought, was a single question. Something to summarize this mess Saint was wading through.

What had that flower meant to her?

Chapter Text

“Hey. Fuzzy.” Said a voice in the corners of the Saint’s mind. “You dead?”

His vision flickered open as he gently shook his head. He stood and stretched as he always did, then relaxed with a final shake to rid sleep’s grip on him. He turned to face the Artificer, laid down, looking oddly at him.

“You sleep like a rock.” She remarked. “Out of your daily coma?”

Saint chuckled at her comment. “Yes, I am.” He confirmed.

“Good. Cause it’s been thirty minutes since the shelter opened.” She said offhandedly.

Saint tilted his head at her. “Why did you not wake me earlier?”

“I’ve got stuff to think about.” She said. “You think I spend all my time running around, killing shit?”

Saint nodded in acknowledgment. “Fair. I do not think so lowly of you, I assure.”

She looked away, giving a sort of sigh. “Anyway. I woke you now, cause I’m bored. Do your thing.”

“As you wish.” He replied politely. He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts. “…Today we should reach the end of these fields.”

“Oh, really?” She asked, a bit surprised. “…Damn.”

He nodded. “I hope my presence was… novel, if nothing else.”

Her gaze drifted away from his. “…Mmhm.”

Saint studied her for only a moment.

He moved to the shelter’s exit, and what he believed to be the end of their journey together. He hoped he was mistaken.

The two were now leaping across large pillars, the gaps between them leading to patches or worm grass below. Saint sensed the end of this region was near. Squidcadas began to flap through the air around them, glancing with their strange eyes as the floated above.

Saint was… a bit sad, as expected. He doubted he would be allowed to continue his journey with her. And… that was it. Despite how often his thoughts were a swirling tornado of info, now it was just that. The time he might lose with someone like her. He began to wonder if something… deeper lay beneath it.

Saint eyed a large structure where pillars gave way to proper ground. Mechanisms and pipes stuck out from the somewhat boxy structure. A karma gate.

“We are here.” Saint said once he clambered onto the structure, looking back to her as she leaped to follow him.

She did not respond. They crawled into the structure and found the gate. Glowing symbols projected into the air by some kind of hologram, lower symbols climbing up to meet the projected requirement. Saint was unworried; he was unsure if his karma was even capable of lowering. Though the Artificer was eyeing the gate nervously.

“Have you been through these gates before?” He asked her.

“Yeah, yeah.” She confirmed. “Just… don’t like em.”

Saint nodded. “Nothing to fear. Though we must enter together, lest the locks separate us.”

She nodded as well. The two stepped over the grates of the gate and waited a moment.

The door behind them closed. Mechanical buzzing and whirring filled the air as water collected above them. Artificer pressed herself to a wall as the water poured downward past them, seeping through the grate they stood on. The final locks of the fort behind closed and the door in front began to open.

They had left the farm arrays.

The two crawled through a tunnel to find themselves still in a sort of structure. Several pearls and trinkets lay scattered around the room. Saint picked one up and held it as he walked forward.

“Though our… deal is over, we must move together for a moment more.” He said. “There is a scavenger toll ahead.”

“What!?” She asked, sounding worried.

He turned back to her, puzzled. “What is wrong?”

“I-I- fucken- is it not clear I’m not on good terms with them?!” She shouted.

“We have pearls.” He said simply. “Little circumvents their want for wealth.”

She groaned angrily through gritted teeth. “Fuck.” She muttered. “Fucken- fine! Whatever.”

Saint tilted his head. “What is the issue? I understand they may not like you, but I doubt they might hate you enough to cause proper problem.”

“They do, Saint.” She said firmly. “They. Do.”

“Why?” He inquired.

She looked like she wanted to speak, but didn’t.

She took a breath.

“…I see.” Saint said, somewhat sadly. “That is okay. Sore subject, I assume.”

She paused for a moment.

“I’m going first.” She said firmly, walking towards him and snatching the pearl from his hand. “Stay here.”

Saint turned to see her grab another pearl from the ground and wriggle through the structures exit. He decided to do as she asked. He waited patiently, examining the conversation in his mind.

A history of bloodshed with the scavengers, one that drives them to hate her quite a bit. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the scenario, though the consequences might escape him. What she she done, how had she done it, how long ago? All would influence how they might treat her. At least she didn’t seem proud of it. That was the important part.

It took her quite some time to return. He heard muffled, angry shouts outside as the Artificer conversed with the scavengers. It was something of a contradiction, with her implied history. Scavengers usually attacked on sight of disliked creatures. 

She finally returned to the structure, poking her head through the tunnel. “Move it, fuzzy.”

Saint nodded and followed her outside. A great field of grass met him, metal blocks and structures jutting out from the ground semi-randomly. The facility outskirts. He could see the scavenger toll.

All scavengers held their spears propped on the ground, several trying to mask some sort of fear. Saint hadn’t noticed, but she had already given them the pearls. They stood in lines, giving a hallway for them to move through. The Artificer angrily gestured for him to move quickly as she began moving through, avoiding the gaze of the scavengers.

He got a closer look at the scavengers. Some looked nervous. Few looked angry. Not hatred, more like… fear. Self preservation.

“They seem… afraid of you.” He whispered to her.

“They are.” She muttered back.

Saint began to think he had underestimated her past. They reached the middle of the toll, the air quiet and tense. 

One of the scavengers visibly shivered as the Artificer passed. She still set her eyes on the ground, glancing angrily to the side as if this was their fault. The silence was deafening.

Some instinct made his fur stand on end.

A buzzing, or maybe a beeping.

Was that a laser?

“VULTURE-!”

Saint’s ears were ringing as he struggled to his feet, the wind knocked from him as he was slammed into the large metal block sticking from the ground. He began to notice the shouting and explosions nearby.

He shook his head to clear his mind. The Artificer was still near the toll, on all fours and growling as several scavengers pointed their spears to her, then the king vulture in the skies. Another horn shot down, this one impaling a hapless scavenger. Several scattered, dazed creatures lay at different points all around the toll. Someone had thrown a bomb. The Artificer dove away in attempt to escape the chaos.

A bomb hit directly under her. She was launched over Saint’s head, slammed into another metal block and dropped from his vision.

“Artificer!” He shouted as he stumbled to his feet. He heard a spear embed itself in the ground behind him. He stumbled over the block and dropped to where the Artificer laid in between them.

“Artificer!” He repeated as he crawled to her. She was, somehow, unscathed. Saint reached her side as she coughed, struggling to her feet.

“I’m fine! I’m-!” She coughed again, shaking her head. “I’m explosive resistant, it’s fine!” She looked up past him to the above block. “Oh, FUCK OFF!”

A spear whizzed past Saint’s head, sticking into the ground between them. A scavenger was perched atop another block, raising a spear. Saint reflexively grappled himself to the peak of the block behind him, the Artificer launching after him. They steadied at the peak, looking over the chaos.

Over a dozen scavengers had crawled from their dens, now in combat with the ridiculous number of threats surrounding the toll. Lizards recently surfaced to see the source of the noise, two more attracted vultures, one of which a king, several scavengers still locked onto the Saint and the Artificer.

“We gotta fucken move, Saint!” She yelled as she bounded off the platform.

Saint leaped after her, already hearing the shouts of scavengers. The toll’s events were a complete blur as he tried to assemble the scenario. Someone yelled about the vulture, Artificer dove for safety. Evidently that was enough to justify her as a threat. Based on the explosions seeming to follow them, they blamed her enough to give chase.

Saint barely leaped over a lizard's chomp as the Artificer darted ahead of him. They weaved in and out of metallic structures, properly entering the facility outskirts. More lizards crawled from dens as the noise followed behind them.

An explosion sent him tumbling head over heels into a large divot, hitting grass at the bottom. He stumbled to his feet and grappled back upward, only barely seeing the Artificer dive into a tunnel. He darted after her, leaping through a small cave with a pool of water in the center.  He glanced behind to find scavengers flowing from the tunnel he just came from.

“We’ve done no wrong!” He shouted to them, his tail in the exit.

“Says the one allied with her, you fucken vegetable!” Yelled a masked scavenger.

Before he could speak again, he saw a rock fly through the air. He darted through the tunnel right as the cavern wall blasted open, sending shrapnel whizzing through his fur. He found himself on sort of cliffside, the Artificer barreling towards its edge. To his surprise, she skidded to a stop and looked back.

“MOVE IT, FUZZBALL!” She shouted.

She had looked back for him.

He didn’t have time to think. She leaped off the ledge, a crack sounding out afterward. Saint steeled himself for a leap of faith.

He bounded off the cliffside, looking below to see the Artificer. She was in a tunnel outstretched from a lower wall, hanging out as she looked up to assure he was following. He mused for a moment as he fell. Instinct? Muscle memory? Or perhaps, just maybe, she didn’t want him dead.

He latched his tongue onto the upper ledge of the tunnel and swung into it, slamming directly into the Artificer and sending them both in a tumble through it.

“Great planning, you fucking vegetable!” She shouted, scrambling to her feet.

“You waited at the edge!” He shouted back, racing after her.

They darted through a series of tunnels, metal pipes leading in all different directions. Spears slammed into corners as they turned them, the scavengers still on their tail. Saint wasn’t sure if the Artificer knew where she was going, though he knew he couldn’t do any better. They launched out of the pipe system into a sort of small-scale canyon, a large gap between them and another metal structure. The Artificer leaped into it, another bang sounding afterward. Saint jumped after her, swinging into an indent in the metallic wall. A shelter symbol lay in it.

A grenade hit the opposite side of the gap, knocking large poles and stakes jutting out from it out of place and tumbling into the small field below. The Artificer was already in the shelter. He dove in and heard her slam the locking button the second he was in.

The slugcats caught their breath. An explosion shook the shelter. A spear stuck into the locks and was ground into dust and splinters.

Saint rolled to his back, partially exhausted. The Artificer glanced from the now closed door to him.

“…Dammit, muscle memory…” She said breathlessly.

Saint chuckled a little. “I suppose we will have… one more night together.”

“Hm.” The Artificer grunted. The emotion in her voice was more than the indignation he anticipated, though he couldn’t fully place it.

Saint sat up against the wall as Artificer sat down. The two spent another moment to fully catch their breath.

“…Thank you for assuring my safety.” Saint said after a bit. “I do appreciate it.”

She looked to the ground. “Its… nothing. Just don’t want them… hurting anybody else.” She said hesitantly.

Saint nodded. “Nonetheless, I thank you.”

She gave a small sigh. “Well. Guess we’re sleeping here.” She laid down, curled up and closed her eye.

Saint watched over her, studying the fitful expression that she always wore in sleep. He listened to the scavengers, yelling angrily just outside as the muffled wind howled. He moved through the dangers of the past few days, the conflict and the worry and the stress. And, in spite of it all… a part of him couldn’t bear to part with her.

That was odd. That something in his soul may bind him to a creature of such pain. He’d been drawn to the angry and the hurt before, his desire to leave the world a better place each excursion driving him through the difficult path to friendship. But it just felt… different.

Saint sighed quietly to himself; a bit unsure what to do.

“…Artificer, may I ask something?”

 “Mmhm.” She murmured.

“…Will you be leaving my presence tomorrow?”

She was silent for a moment.

“…Yes, Saint. Our deal is over.” She muttered; her eye still closed.

“I would not object to guiding you further.” He mentioned. “I am rather knowledgeable of these lands.”

Again, she was silent.

“…And, I admit…” Saint added. “In my own way… I do enjoy your presence.”

Something crossed her expression.

A million thoughts and a thousand emotions seemed to flow through the both of them. Saint wished so dearly to understand what lay beneath her visage, what about his words gave her some pause. What was she thinking, why? And what consequences might it have?

Very slowly, she opened her eye.

“…Do you know what an… iterator is?” 

Saint’s eyes widened. Then he tilted his head. “…Yes, I do.”

“I…” She began, sounding unsure if she wanted to say more. “… I want to get back- find one.” She said tentatively.

Saint began to wonder. Saint began to hope.

“…There are two rather close by. I would not object.” Saint stated. “Which one?”

She thought for a moment.

“…His name is… Five Pebbles.” She named. 

Saint nodded. “I… I will guide you to him if you wish.”

“…Alright.” She said after a bit.

And just like that, all had been resolved.

Saint smiled a bit, tilting his head. “I did not think you would allow my presence any further.” He remarked.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She said, somewhat annoyed as she readjusted herself in the corner. “Doesn’t mean I like you, I just… need a way there.”

Saint heard something at the edges of her voice. Something as if she didn’t believe herself. Saint thought for a moment.

“…All is well. Tomorrow, we will begin towards him.” Saint laid down as well. “Goodnight, Artificer. Thank you for allowing me to see you tomorrow.”

There was silence for a moment. Saint closed his eyes.

“…G’night Saint.” She said quietly. “See you… see you tomorrow.”  

Chapter Text

Saint woke up as he usually did, though with a touch of excitement as he stretched. He had made a companion of himself. And despite the undeniable struggles he might face ahead, he was glad to spend more time with the Artificer.

“Morning.” The Artificer greeted as he stood up. “Good to know you slept well…” She muttered offhandedly.

“Did you not?” The Saint inquired.

“Eh. I dunno. Just…” She gave a small sigh and looked away. “…Couldn’t stay asleep.” Something in her words implied it wasn’t that simple.

“Oh. I am sorry.” Saint said a touch solemnly.

“Mmhm.” She murmured. “Whatever. Let’s go. I didn’t eat yesterday.”

She crawled from the shelter without another word. Saint followed just a bit after.

The facility outskirts. A strange landscape of grass and steel, poles of wood and metal jutting from walls and floors at seemingly random. Life crawling through every blocky structure and tunnel system, centipedes and lizards scrambling to find food. Batflys and squidcadas buzzing through the air around plants imitating the many stakes in the ground. All dusted lightly in snow and ice. So different, yet so similar to the arrays they just left.

“You got a route planned?” The Artificer asked dully.

Saint thought for a moment. At least he hoped he looked like he was. He was sensing his way forward, concentrating to visualize the undefined pull he felt into a proper map.

“…Saint. I asked a question.” She reminded offhandedly.

Saint started. “Sorry. It has been long since I traveled these lands.” He apologized. “We make our way into the structures closer to the facility, head into the upper layer of the wastes and that should bring us to the remains.”

“Wastes? As in, the garbage wastes?” She inquired.

“Presumably. The place where-”

“I know what they are.” She interrupted. “Yeah, no. Not gonna work.”

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

“It… it just won’t.”

“Artificer, I am confused, what-?”

“Saint.” She interrupted again. “We are not. Going. To the wastes.

Saint held his hands up in surrender. “Alright. I am sorry.” He conceded. “That leaves us with the complex of facilities nearer to the iterator. They should eventually lead into the cathedral’s remains, though it may take longer.”

She nodded her head out of the alcove. “Go ahead.”

Saint obliged. Their journey out of the gap between structures was uneventful, leaving them in the outskirts proper. A half-mechanical expanse of hills and metal structures for some purpose unknown. In the distance jutted out an industrial labyrinth, the facility near to the remains of the iterators.

Saint found something new in the Artificer’s demeanor. Something he couldn’t fully name. It was trust, in a way. She had reached a point where one might call them friends, though he doubted she would call them that. But it was tinged with… something. A hint of dread, a fear of impermanence. That’s what it seemed like, at least. It didn’t make much sense.

Her words the night before still lay in the back of his mind. She “needed a way there” in her words. But something seemed off. Saint could hear the sound of a half-truth, uttered by a mind disagreeing with the words. Perhaps it was a lie. Perhaps Saint was not the one being lied to. Perhaps it was a statement more symbolic than it sounds. Or maybe, with quite a bit of luck, she was giving herself a reason to accompany him.

“How’s starin off into the distance treating ya?”

Saint started from his thoughts at the sound of her voice. She raised an eyebrow as he briefly paused, then continued walking as he shook his head.

“Apologies. My thoughts have been rather entrapping lately.” He remarked.

“Mmhm.” She murmured, sounding unconvinced. “You totally don’t do that all the time.”

Saint chuckled a bit. “Perhaps. What is needed of me?”

“Conversation.” She stated. “Because I’m tired and hungry and we’ve been walking through an empty field for twenty-five minutes.”

Saint nodded. “Very well. I am glad to have more simple interactions between us.” He remarked happily. “You don’t seem like one to revisit the past, so perhaps you’d like to learn more of me?

She stared at him for just a moment before realization flickered across her face. “Oh. Sorry, your… poetry can be hard to figure out on a few hours of sleep.” She remarked. “You know what? Start there.”

Saint chuckled a bit. “You ask of my formality?”

“Mmhm.” She confirmed. “If you want to put it like that.”

He nodded. “Well. While I do simply find it polite, I cannot deny it is not a product of time. I have picked up many a term on my travels, and I find myself unable to avoid using them.”

She nodded. “Hm. How long have you been around, anyway?”

“Oh, not that long.” He said, waving a hand in dismissal. “Perhaps six, maybe seven hundred cycles. All spent wandering, looking for ways to leave the world better than I found it. What about you?”

She paused for a moment, seeming to think.

“…I… don’t remember. Like, four- five… hundred something. I… I think, it’s not… precise.” She said hesitantly. Something in her expression hinted she was not fully truthful.

Saint nodded. “You have been around quite some time then, even despite your memory.”

She looked a bit away for a moment. Then she sighed quietly. “…Mmhm. Yeah, I… I have.”

Saint tilted his head. “…Does something trouble you?” He asked after a pause.

“No, no, I’m fine.” She assured, glancing over to him. “Just…”

Her voice trailed off. She looked back to Saint and stopped walking, though she seemed to be looking past him. As if something behind him were out of place. Saint stopped walking as she did.

“Artificer? Are you alright-?”

The jaws of a lizard clamped around the Saint’s midsection, teeth digging into his sides as he lost his sense of direction. He shouted in pain as the Artificer jumped back. The head of his attacker appeared in the corner of his vision, a white lizard just recently dropping it’s camouflage.

“Oh, FUCKING HELLFIRE!” The Artificer roared. A blast rang through his ears as the lizard scampered away. His mind scrambled to find its bearings as grass and snow brushed past his face, gravity switching as the lizard started up a wall. Or perhaps a pole? He didn’t know. It was already back to flat ground.

The Artificer snarled in threat as another blast rang out. The lizard released him with a strangled cry, sending him tumbling a bit away and stilling in the snow, clutching his side. His fur was matted and bloodied where the lizard sunk its teeth in.

His tried to get his bearings, propping himself up on weak arms and looking around. He failed to sit up, though his eyes found the predator.

A spear was lodged through its foot and into the dirt below. The Artificer was bounding towards it, rage and hunger in her eyes. It yelped and snapped fearfully, trying to pull itself away from the rapidly approaching threat. It broke the spear from the ground, still poking out from its foot as it tried to run.

She leaped upon it with a snarl, sinking her teeth into its back. Saint knew what would come next.

It was terrifying, how a creature trapped in the body of a slugcat could define the term “maul” so fervently. She bit, she scratched, she raked, blood spraying into the snow as she tore into its flesh. Its head armor failed to deter her assault. She’d take rocks and dig them into its skin when she lost the advantage, she’d tear the broken spear from its body, stab it in again, rake it through the flesh as as the wood turned rapidly to splinters. She was ingenious in an almost disturbing way. The lizard’s will gave out.

Then she began her meal. Saint averted his eyes as he always did, though it did little to quiet the sound. Of tearing and ripping of flesh, of blood splattering the ground, bone crunching and shattering as she dug her teeth into it. She snarled and growled with each bite as if the lizard were responsible for everything wrong with the world. When the sound stopped, it still wasn’t quiet. Her raspy breathing filled the air, her voice briefly tattered by her snarls and roars.

He couldn’t blame her. Hunger was a powerful force. That did not help the slight sickness in his stomach.

Her eyes found Saint. 

“Oh, shit- Saint!” She stammered. She bounded to his side, leaving bloody prints in the snow.

Saint winced as he looked to the wound in his sides. His fur was a tangle of mixed white and red, his hands spotted with blood. It seemed relatively minor, but Saint never recovered easily from a lizard bite.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…!” She whispered as she examined his wounds. She hopped over him to assure no more damage, then back over, leaning down to his face.

“It- it’s mostly fine!” She stammered. “Can you walk?”

Saint groaned. “Probably…”

Saint began to struggle to his feet. The Artificer seemed unsure of what to do, her extended hands flickering forward and back as if to catch him. He nearly faltered, though he managed to stand unsteadily.

“Its not that bad!” The Artificer said exasperatedly. “What the fuck?!”

“I am weak, I know!” Saint muttered angrily. “We’re lucky it’s not worse!”

She groaned angrily, glancing around for further threats. When had it gotten so cold? The wind blew through his fur, the chill seeping past where he clutched his wounds and into his systems. As his frail form struggled to maintain itself, it was forced to drop its defenses to the storm. He was turning white.

“Oh, this is just the fucking worst!” She shouted, grabbing him by the arm and running before he fully got his bearings, running from some unseen threat. Saint looked back to see a black lizard with vibrant blue markings launching across the field towards them, electronic blasts sounding out. He stumbled and fell.

“You said you could walk!” The Artificer hissed, glancing around for a weapon as Saint struggled to get up.

“Do you know what probably means?!” Saint strained angrily. “And I didn’t say I could run!”

She groaned through gritted teeth and bounded towards the threat. Saint heard a sort of electrical buzzing sound ring through the air. He looked back to find the lizard tumbling forward, a spear lodged straight through its open mouth.

The Artificer ran past him, roughly grabbing his arm and trying to yank him to his feet, unsuccessfully. He cried out in pain, a sharp, stinging pain slicing into his side. The Artificer crouched by his side, looking more annoyed than worried.

“What the fuck now?!” The Artificer yelled as Saint whimpered in pain.

“You re-opened a wound…” Saint managed. “Or perhaps worsened one…”  

A thousand things crossed her face as she stepped back, her eyes wide. They settled into fear. Horror. Guilt.

So, so, so much guilt.

“I- I- wait…!” She stammered; all anger gone from her voice.  “I- I didn’t-!”

“Its fine, it’s fine…” Saint assured, struggling to his feet. “Help me up, please…” He grumbled.

The emotion in her face was further enhanced. She gave a groan that sounded more like a cry of suppressed pain. She took his arm and supported him as he stood shakily, his frail form weakened by exertion.

Saint got to his feet with her help, his hand clutching around the worsened wound. He began to worry just slightly beyond simple blood loss. Blood was not the only substance in his veins, and should the other escape, things would be much worse. 

His gaze found her expression. Pained. Fearful. Guilty. Despite the circumstances, he felt sorry for her.

“Shelter up there!”  Saint looked ahead to find a shelter symbol half covered in snow. The pair moved with increased quickness towards safety from it all. From the cold. From the blood. Saint imagined that wasn’t all Artificer was fleeing.

Artificer threw them into the shelter with relative gentleness, slamming the button and watching to assure nothing tried to crawl in. Saint collapsed on one side of the shelter, clutching his stomach as he curled in a ball.

“Saint, I…” The Artificer said worriedly, crawling to his side once the locks fell into place. “I- I didn’t mean…”

“I’m okay…” He murmured. “Some rest and…” He paused to wince. “I should be alright…”

He looked up to her and caught a glimpse of something.

Of an Artificer dissatisfied with the choices she had made, regretful of the bridges she’d burned.

An Artificer who wanted to be different.

She stepped back, indignation and bitterness sinking into her expression. She receded to the other side of the shelter, the hints of more beneath her anger falling away in time with her. She sat down and looked to the side, sorrow just barely visible at the corners of her eyes.

Saint rolled to his back with a sigh, his midsection still aching. He pushed himself to a seat against a wall, avoiding the cold wind seeping through the entrance.

“…Too early to sleep.” The Artificer remarked quietly. “I’m going out to find some more food. I’ll- fucken- throw some hunk of metal over the entrance.”

Saint nodded, though she was already exiting the shelter. He heard the tearing and bending of metal, presumably her tearing something off a nearby structure. A sheet of metal slid over the exit tunnel and shut out the white of the snow, leaving Saint in the dark with a slight chill still lingering in him.

Saint looked down to check his wounds, relived to find his fur simply dotted with red. Any hint of that golden-black fluid he knew so well escaping could have drastic consequences. But it hadn’t. 

Saint was alone with his thoughts.

Saint started as the metal blockage was pulled away, revealing the drifts of white snow outside. The wind cut through him as the Artificer, half covered in snow, wriggled into the shelter. She seemed to be carrying something in her hands.

“Hey.” She murmured, stepping into the shelter. “I, uh. Tried to find you some food.”

Upon closer inspection, it was a small collection of plant life from around the outskirts. Several slightly damaged or crushed from her indelicate grip. She set down the collection in front of Saint, tapped the locking button at the door and sat against the opposite wall, avoiding his gaze.

“…Thank you.” Saint replied. He took a berry from the pile and bit into it, chewing as he examined the rest of the pile.

It wasn’t all edible. Two or three blue damaged berries, a stem of batnip, two glowing mushrooms, one of which was missing a stem, one popcorn seed, a detached piece of a pole plant, and two lilypucks, all missing a few petals. All of it was a touch crushed. She seemed to have simply collected them into her fists and held them tight to prevent any loss.

“I don’t know what… what you eat.” She said, her voice just slightly apologetic. “Or what’s… edible at all.”

Saint nodded. “Worry not. Several things here are quite nourishing. Even had they not been, I would be grateful nonetheless.”

She nodded. He continued his meal for a bit before he picked up a lilypuck, examining the gentle pink glow of the flower’s center in contrast with its torn, green leaves. Something sparked in his mind.

“Lilypucks.” He remarked. “These are rather rare in the outskirts.”

“…Wasn’t that hard to find. I just… looked around a bit.” She replied, still looking away from him.

That was untrue. Saint could hear the falsehood in her demeanor, but he wouldn’t have needed to. This was a rather detailed set of plants, an amount which would take some searching to find, especially in the snow. Saint had lost track of time when she was gone, but it was clear she had put effort into this.

“You don’t… eat often, right?” She asked tentatively as Saint continued his meal.

“No.” He confirmed. “My biological ability to ration energy is rather impressive. It takes around five to six cycles on a full stomach for me to begin starving.” That was a lie. Saint did not need to eat at all, but after five or six cycles it would become somewhat uncomfortable.

“Yeah, yeah, I figured…” She agreed. “Since you… haven’t eaten since- since we met.”

He nodded. “Coincidence, merely.” He assured her. “Hold no worry over my safety.”

“…Mmhm.” She murmured.

Saint took time to enjoy his varied meal. He neatly organized food from not, eating slowly through the pile of berries and flowers. He noted the Artificer glancing at the pile of what he could not eat. She seemed somewhat… dissatisfied. With what, he could not name. But his suspicions were many.

“…I’m going to sleep.” The Artificer said abruptly, breaking the silence. Without another word she curled up and closed her eye, facing away from Saint.

He collected his thoughts for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

“…I must thank you again for this kindness.” He said to her. “I hold no anger over your actions during the chase.”

She did not respond for a moment.

“…Wasn’t apologizing.” She muttered indignantly, sounding almost annoyed with him. “Just… keeping you alive.”

That wasn’t what Saint had hoped for.

He sighed to himself.

“…Goodnight, Artificer.” He said softly.

He did not get a response that night.

Chapter Text

Saint awoke gently, his mind flickering open while his eyelids stayed closed as always. He began to stretch to find his ribs still aching a bit, the bites leaving their effect as they did each and every attack he survived. He shook the annoyance away. He chose this.

He sat up fully with a yawn, the Artificer already up and standing across from him. She did not greet him.

“Good morning.” He said politely.

She nodded in acknowledgment, though did not speak. “…How’re the bites?” She asked after a moment.

“Slightly painful.” He responded. “Though manageable. Hopefully today can be more calming then the previous.”

She gave a sort of sigh, looking to the door. “Alright. Let’s get moving.” She said bluntly.

Their travels through the remains of the facility outskirts were uneventful, giving Saint more time to think. At this point even he was dissatisfied with it. He wished to make a friend of himself, not eternally toil over the reasons he had failed to do so. He hoped today might be a good day for gaining some mutual trust, his wounds giving a reason to stay away from danger.

They reached the edge of the outskirts, a support beam leading up into the gate to the complex. They shimmied inside a hole dug through the metal, climbed up the interior and found themselves at the gate. The usual process of whirring mechanisms and grinding gears, and they moved into the complex.

They found themselves at the base of a large tower, a spire of steel blocking out the rest of the area. A relatively simple but somewhat time-consuming climb later and they reached the top, the light snowfall of morning already turned to the winds of the cycle proper.

The complex was a labyrinthian expanse of decaying steel, towers jutting out from blocks of rusted metal. Fallen support beams, collapsed ceilings and shattered walls dotted the expanse, flashes of ground and dirt shining through the gaps. Lizards, scavengers, centipedes all skittered and crawled through an endless array of tunnels, some dug out as dens and some simply repurposed ventilation shafts. Vultures circled the obelisks and glided across the expanse, filling the air with spurts of steam. In the distance, half obscured by the white haze of the storm, was the crumbling spires of the shattered citadel.

“We’ve quite a journey ahead of us.” Saint remarked.

“Mmhm.” The Artificer agreed. She glanced to the Saint, looking at his wounds. “…You, uh, you sure you’re good with those bites?”

Saint raised his arm and looked to the fur around his midsection, the spots of red glinting out beneath the green.

“…Yes. Though I would appreciate if today was calmer than previous.” He admitted. He looked back up to her. “That brings me to a question.”

She shrugged. “Alright. Go ahead.”

“How do you spend your time? Recreationally, I mean.” Saint questioned.

She looked a bit puzzled. “…Like, what do I do for fun?”

“Yes, yes.” Saint confirmed, nodding. He sat down with his feet hanging off the tower’s ledge. “I hope to find something enjoyable for the two of us to do.”

She sat down with him, thinking. “…I dunno. Most of my fun comes from… hunting. I guess.” She looked away. For a moment something almost like shame showed on her face, then quickly replaced by indifference.

Saint nodded. “That is alright. I’m sure we will find a way.”

“Mmhm.” She murmured, sounding unconvinced. “You know what isn’t fun though?”

Saint tilted his head. “What?” He asked.

“Getting eaten by vultures.” She remarked.

Saint nodded in agreement. “Truly. Perhaps we should move?”

She nodded as well. She scraped her claws into the metal ledge and slid off, looking up at Saint as she hung from the ledge. “See you at the bottom, fuzzy.”

Their travels in the industry were quite different from the outskirts. Threats were far from uncommon, the only reason they weren’t in constant danger was that their predators were simply to busy to chase them. The place was a system of mixed industrial caverns and rocky hills, home to all kinds of life. While it was by no means a place of warfare, both slugcats stayed a little more guarded then usual.

They came to a large bridge between structures, Saint still mostly lost in his thoughts as always. He had long since surmised a way for him and his companion to bond. A simple race, a game of tag or something similar. But he doubted she would accept if he simply brought up the idea, especially with her guilt for his injuries. He’d have to provoke her a touch.

They reached the middle of the bridge, the rock crumbling away and giving out, leaving a gap between its two segments. Saint leaned over the ledge to find a pond of water far below, more collapsed structures surrounding it. He marveled at the odd scenery for a moment. 

Then, as if by fate, an idea struck him.

“You find something?” Asked the Artificer behind him.

He stepped back from the ledge and turned to face her, a slight smile on his face.

“…I have found a wonderful idea for something enjoyable for us to do.” He said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She raised an eyebrow. “Alright, sunshine. Whatcha got?”

“You would agree most of your enjoyment comes from adrenaline, correct?” Saint inquired. “The thrill of danger or speed?”

She began to look a bit concerned. “…Yeah. Don’t know how you’re working this in.”

Saint smiled at her for just a moment more.

Realization flashed across her face. “Don’t you fucking-!”

Saint leaned backward and fell from the ledge, disappearing from her view.

“YOU FUCKING VEGETABLE!” She shouted as she bounded to the edge. She briefly glanced around with a mixture of anger and worry before a sound interrupted her.

“I am not that fearless, I admit.” Said the Saint’s voice from beneath the bridge. Artificer looked to find him with his tongue stuck to the opposite side of the bridge, hanging over the fall below. “But I will be seeing you at the bottom.”

With that he dropped from the structure, swinging gracefully from outcroppings and broken metal struts to the bottom of the small canyon.

The Artificer glanced around, considering her options.

She groaned angrily, stepped back a bit, and leaped into the gap.

A short, very fast fall later and she crashed into a pool of water like a meteor, her senses briefly scattered before she turned and launched to the surface. She gasped for air and found her bearings.

“Rather bold.” Said Saint once more. She turned to find him hanging off a tunnel raised a bit up in the wall, looking somewhat amused and smug. “Shall I challenge you to a game of speed?”

She launched from the water and onto the shore, shaking water from her coarse skin. “Oh, you think you can outrun me? While injured? Get over yourself.”

He chuckled a bit. “A race is not only of physicality. I am rather skilled in finding speed without effort.” He recited formally. “So, I ask again. Think you can catch me?”

“Oh, you’re fucken on, vegetable.” She said confidently.

Saint smiled and ducked into the tunnel, and the race was on.

Artificer was faster, they both knew that from the start. But Saint was far more resourceful than she expected. By the time she had crawled through the tunnel after him, he was already swinging through another. She launched after him, leaping across the scattered, broken ground of metal and rock.

She ducked into another room. Saint was nowhere to be seen. She glanced around for an exit for a moment before something caught her eye.

Saint was standing on an outcropping near the cavern’s ceiling, leaning lazily against the wall with an amused smile on his face. No linear way to him existed, and he clearly expected her to struggle.

The Artificer bolted towards him, her gaze flickering for just a moment before she found her route. She leaped to a wall and launched off it, launched to a lower outcropping and leaped from that, launched again to meet the ceiling, grabbed a piece of half-broken rebar and swung towards Saint. For just a moment she could see him scramble away, a startled expression on his face. It was immensely satisfying.

She continued to race after him, slowly gaining as he swung gracefully through the many metal structures. She was almost impressed by his finesse, swinging easily through tight gaps and tunnels without fear. And indeed, he seemed to do it all with little effort. Quite a spectacle, even to her.

Saint swung to a room in the open air, Artificer seeing the snow glinting through as she launched to the tunnel to follow. She shot through it like a cannon, landed with a roll and kept running. She gained enough on Saint to nearly catch him before he swung into another room.

The chase continued for a bit more before she found an idea. She grabbed a rock and turned it to a bomb, holding it in her hand as she sprinted after him. Her gaze flickered across the path he was swinging, ending on a half-collapsed vent shaft he likely planned to swing from. She tossed the grenade at the ceiling before Saint could get to it.

The blast knocked the vent from the ceiling just as Saint grappled to it. She raced towards it’s landing spot, seeing him roll and stumble to his feet. He was glancing around for another place to grapple, but she was already upon him.

She leaped and tackled him to the ground, the two rolling in a tangle for a moment. They ended with Saint lying on his back, the Artificer atop him. She propped herself up as Saint regained his bearings. She was breathing heavily, a smile of victory across her face.

For a moment, it was just that. Saint was a bit too frazzled to appreciate it fully, but he began to smile softly as well.

Her smile slowly dissolved, her now somewhat puzzled gaze falling to where one of her hands laid. Saint found that she was pressing down on a tuft of his fur. She stared at it for a moment, seeming almost… mesmerized.

Her eyes widened. She glanced to Saint.

She scrambled off of him rather quickly and stood tense, staring at him. He sat up slowly and tilted his head at her. A variety of things flickered across her face for a moment, her gaze flickering as if searching for a threat.

She shook her head and stood. She thought for a moment longer, then shook her head again. For a moment she glanced away, seeming almost indignant. She absentmindedly twirled her fingers, as if to retain the feeling of his fur.

She shook her head, pushing whatever tormented her away. She thought for a moment more.

The smile of accomplishment slowly came back. She leaped into the air with another victorious shout.

“HELL yeah!” She shouted as she landed, bouncing back and forth on her feet. “Fucken KNEW I was faster.”

Saint chuckled, brushing himself off as he stood. “You are more resourceful than I thought, I admit.” He said, smiling gently at her. “I truly thought I would outrun you.”

She laughed for a moment. It was an odd sound, her laugh. Harsh, loud, slightly gravelly. But joyful in the sort of raw way. A rare sound from her that hid nothing behind it.

“Really?! You think you can beat me?!” She shouted excitedly. “Not in a million years, vegetable.”

Saint chuckled again. He simply smiled for a moment longer as she relaxed, ceasing her bouncing and shaking her arms out.

She chuckled a bit. “Alright, yeah. I admit, that was kinda fun.” She conceded.

Saint smiled happily. “I am glad to know.”

She gazed back at him for a moment longer, seeming amused and contented.

Slowly, her smile faded. Her gaze fell away, the sort of angry dread seeping back into her eyes as she looked away. She gave a sort of sigh, looking displeased, almost with herself.

“…Alright. Let’s…” She began, shaking her head as she looked back to him. “Let's get on with it.”

Saint stared sadly at her for a moment.

“…Alright. Let's.” He agreed.

The rest of the day was uneventful, at least from the standards of the complex. A few run-ins with lizards and centipedes, but the labyrinth allowed easy escape and a variety of weapons for the Artificer to utilize. Adding to it was the storm, the snow and cold slowly draining life from the caverns as the fauna crept into their dens. They had yet to find a shelter, and the cold was slicing straight past the Saint’s fur after quite a long cycle.

“You alright, Saint?” The Artificer asked, looking concerned as she glanced at him.

“Y-yes.” Saint said, his teeth chattering. “I’m s-sure w-we will f-find shelter.”

She nodded, then looked away, somewhat concerned. They continued through the snowdrifts and collapsed structures, any holes in the ceiling made present by the icy storm flowing through them. Saint noted the Artificer was not affected by the cold, almost at all.

“Shelter!” The Artificer yelled, pointing to a symbol just barely visible in the snowdrifts. The two bounded towards it, each step into the half-frozen watery ground sending another shiver down Saint’s spine.

They reached it, Saint clambering inside and quickly pressing himself to the corner, shrinking away from the cold. To his luck, the shelter seemed to be surrounded with some variety of electrical system, as the walls were gently heated. The locks fell in and the Artificer sat down, seeming a bit uncomfortable.

Saint curled up, hugging his tail to himself for warmth. The cold wasn’t particularly bad, he’d been through worse, but it was nonetheless uncomfortable. He waited patiently, shivering slightly as the ice slowly left his veins.

“…You, uh… you sure you’re okay?” The Artificer asked him.

“Y-yes.” Saint assured her. “At l-least as okay a-as I c-can be. Y-you have d-done what you can.” She didn’t necessarily imply she wanted to help, but Saint could hear it in her voice.

“I mean, we could huddle up.” She remarked, sounding almost absentminded. Saint glanced up at her as she stared at the ground. He was unsure if she meant to say that.

“Not that I’d want to.” She added quickly. “Just, if you were, like, dying.”

Saint shook his head. “No. I w-would not force c-contact upon you w-when you have shown y-your discomfort with it.” He refused. “Besides, I am w-warming rather quickly.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” She agreed. “I’m going to bed.” She added.

She curled up, once again facing away from him. Saint wasn’t sure, but he could’ve sworn he heard her curse under her breath.

Well. Not exactly encouraging. But she probably though Saint’s fur was soft.

He felt that buzz in his chest again.

He shook his head, pushing away the flutter and returning to his thoughts. He doubted the Artificer would admit that, not now. She might in fact actively repress the bonds they’d made today. But, progress was progress.

The cold finally fell away, heat and comfort returning to him. He hoped the Artificer was experiencing the same, though he doubted it. Not only the words she’d said today, not only her shifting demeanor and mixed emotions. But the way she laid when sleeping. She always looked so… fitful. Tense. As if she believed the threats of the outside followed her into sleep, into her mind. Saint was willing to bet she was right in that belief.

He sighed sadly to himself.

“Goodnight, Artificer.” Saint said, the same way he said it the last time.

“…G’night, Saint.” She replied after a moment.

That was a small comfort to him. Mixed emotions and hope in his mind, he drifted into sleep.

Except, no. He did not drift to sleep. He drifted somewhere else.

Saint was floating in the void, an endless expanse of black. The acidic fluid tugging at the seams of his form. He never much liked the place, and he further disliked what he was likely here for. Yes, he’d had these dreams before, he’d have them again. But tonight, it seemed a bit rude to summon him.

Especially because the culprit of his dream was nowhere to be seen. He drifted through the black for a bit, a bit confused and almost annoyed.

A static sound rose in his ears.

Out from the blackness rose a void worm, its great tendrils writhing and unraveling as it launched him around with its momentum. The extra fin-like protrusions seemed to tear themselves apart as they swung randomly around, scattered by sheer speed. The disturbance of the sea did little to unsteady him. Here he was bound. Here he was more.

Saint sighed to himself. He was more. Whether he liked it or not.

The light that made the worm’s head reared above him, several smaller tendrils extending from it, ending in hooks and fins. One tendril was different. It was a neck, snaking around and holding the eyes of the worm in that familiar circular shape. Staring down upon him.

A void worm.

“Hello.” Saint said politely. “What is needed of me?”

Chapter Text

Saint awoke groggily, the torments of the void making for a fitful and unenjoyable sleep. He sat up, sleepily rubbing his eyes as the static sound still buzzed lightly in his mind. The Artificer was laying across from him, her eyes locked in the door.

“… Good morning, Artificer.” He greeted.

She turned to him, an expression of discomfort on her face. Her one functional eyelid was slumped slightly, dark circles underneath both of her eyes. She had not been sleeping.

“…Morning.” She stood up. “Let’s go.”

And so, Saint got more time to think. Oh, lucky him. More time to toil over… everything, essentially. The void calling him, the Artificer’s actions. He chose to think of her. The void would, unfortunately, be there when she wasn’t. 

Her demeanor had changed again, from what he saw in her eyes and movements. No longer the sort of indifference or neutrality of yesterday. Anger and bitterness had returned, an indignant mask of hidden emotion. Saint imagined she regretted her friendliness the day before.

That was… rather sad. The idea that she was so worried of vulnerability was far from revolutionary, but it gave Saint a rather unpleasant knot in his stomach. Thinking of what joys she might deny herself. 

Saint did not place it at the time, but there was another reason for that knot. He would rather enjoy something like a hug from her.

He signed quietly to himself, tired with walking in silent sorrow. He tried to conjure something that might make conversation. Productive conversation, not arguments and annoyances. 

He wanted to ask her if she found him aggravating. But if one thing aggravated her, it was his questions and determination towards earning her favor. A painful contradiction in his methods. He had to always assure she knew he truly wanted to befriend her. But if he assured to often, he never would. And if he never assured, the same result.

Then again, there was a sort of way to do both. 

Saint groaned slightly in his mind, the prepared his voice.

“…Apologies for my abruptness, Artificer, but…” He began, breaking the silence. “I am sorry if I annoy you.” 

She started a bit, ceasing her walk by his side and giving him a puzzled look.

“…Did I do something?” She asked after a moment. 

“No.” Saint said without hesitation. “I simply think my methods for gaining your favor are imperfect, and wish you to know I am sorry for that.” 

She seemed rather unsure what to say. Saint was far from satisfied with the effect he’d had, but he truly felt this was the best he could do.

The Artificer’s puzzled gaze flickered around for a moment. Saint began to see the slightest tinges of sorrow and guilt. Guilt. That was always there. All the others varied when emotion gripped her, but that… that was always there.

Then she locked onto something behind him. Emotion left her eyes, seeming as if drained out forcefully. Pushed away and repressed. Whatever she was staring at, it was an excuse to ignore the circumstances. Not exactly a positive effect, though she clearly disliked emotion of most kinds. Causing any emotion in her was the best he could do right now.

“White lizard up there.” The Artificer said tensely.

Well. That was the end of that conversation.

Saint followed her gaze, examining the spot for a moment. He noticed the difference in texture on part of the metal, the lizard’s half-closed eyes shining ever so slightly in the morning light.

“Keen eye.” He remarked. “Do you plan to attack it?”

“No.” She replied. “Just stare at it as you walk past. It won’t attack without surprise factor. Cowards…” 

They started moving under the lizard’s hiding place, their eyes raised to the spot it stuck to and instincts tensed for it to drop. The lizard stared uncomfortably back, the ambush predator put out of its element. It seemed to be considering its options. Its gaze flickered from them to a spot behind them, then back. It stayed still.

Saint heard a rustling, like a misplaced footstep.

A shout from the Artificer startled him, causing him to jump back and turn to her. Saint found her within the jaws of another white lizard, gripping the insides of it’s half-closed mouth and trying to force it back open. Shallow bite marks lay in her midsection. Before he could react further, the tongue of the other lizard stuck to his back, yanking him from his feet and into the air.

Chaos broke out. Saint scrambled for a grip on the ground, the gravel and scrap metal leaving stinging pain in his palms. He heard a series of blasts ring out from where the Artificer was, then yet more snapping from the lizard.

The white lizard got him off the ground, leaving him upside down with little idea where anything was. He stuck his tongue into the ground and pulled back, locking them both in a strange match of strength. He heard the lizard dig its claws into the metal, scrambling for purchase in the tug of war.

Another blast from the Artificer, a snarl from her opponent. Two rocky clangs, the sound of chucked debris cracking the beasts head armor. Saint was losing the tug of war, slowly being pulled from the ground and into the predators mouth. He still couldn’t see the Artificer. But he hoped the sound of blood splattering and flesh tearing meant she’d be there soon.

He heard the Artificer snarl as she launched into the air, then felt the tug from the lizard suddenly cease, causing him to yank himself face-first into the dirt and tumble to the ground. When he found his bearings, shaking the ache from his head, the white lizard was falling from the ceiling with the Artificer in tow. 

They landed with a thud as Saint got to his feet, blood already flinging from the cuts the Artificer had made. He glanced around for more threats to come to the sound, lizards or scavengers trying to find their morning meal. He was met with a strange electrical sound, a kind of digitized whooshing of energy. He turned to find a cyan lizard on the ceiling, its tail charging to leap at him.

Saint bounded away as the lizard jetted towards him, running to the Artificer still wrestling with the white lizard. He grabbed a rock and slung it at his attacker as he put Artificer between him and the lizard, his throw doing little to deter it.

Artificer threw off the now injured white lizard just in time for the cyan to tackle her, rolling the both of them into Saint and sending all three creatures sprawling across the cavern. The Artificer stumbled quickly to her feet and leapt upon the lizard before it could attack her or Saint.

“Saint-!” She strained, pinning the lizard down as it flailed and snapped at her. “Where the fuck we going next-?!”

Saint took a moment to find his senses. “…Outside! To a tower, hopefully in that direction!” He yelled back, pointing to a tunnel leading outside of the factory. He wanted to find a high point to get his bearings on their progress.

“Great!” She yelled, sounding as if things were not very great. She bit into the lizard's flesh and chewed for a moment, still pinning it down. “I’ll find lunch, get fucking going!”

“What?!” Saint yelled back. “I’m not just leaving you-!”

His sentence was cut off as the white lizard attached its tongue to him and yanked him past the wrestling match, scrambling his senses as the gravel and scrap coating the ground covered him in shallow nicks. 

He heard the Artificer snarl in anger, then a pained buzz from the cyan lizard. Another snarl, then the white lizard released him. He got to his feet, brushing himself off as the Artificer briefly bit into the white lizard. She ate her fill of it and bounded towards Saint with such anger he half expected her to pounce on him.

“YES THE FUCK YOU ARE!” She yelled, racing past him. Saint stumbled into a run and chased after her into the snowy outdoors.

“Fucken hate this place…” She muttered as Saint caught up to her. The two slowed their pace, though still jogging away from the brawl behind them. She glanced around, looking for more threats taking interest in them.

“I cannot deny it is…” Saint said, somewhat breathless. “Rather chaotic at times…”

She continued glancing around, her eyes trending towards the sky. Saint was equally concerned, but he was more caught up in dealing with the weakness in his legs and lungs.

“FUCK!” The Artificer shouted suddenly. Saint was about to ask her to elaborate when something shot into the snow behind them, flinging water and dust onto their backs. It was the curved, spear-like horn of a king vulture, jammed over a foot into the snow and dirt. The Artificer launched forward as Saint broke back into a tired run.

“I FUCKING HATE EVERYTHING!” The Artificer shouted angrily, her gaze flickering around for a weapon. She glanced back then dove to the side as the second horn nearly impaled her, rolling through the snow back into a sprint. She grabbed a piece of jagged rebar jutting from the snow and tossed it, digging into the bird’s circular body.

Saint was losing ground. His legs became heavier with each stride, his lungs burning. The Artificer was still bolting forward without pause.

Muffled beeping, mechanisms clicking into place. Another launch of the horn, sending a spray of snow across his face and nearly piercing his neck. He stumbled, trying to break back into full sprint. The Artificer was not looking back. He dove to the side at the sound of more clicks, a large crack ringing out as the horn stabbed straight through the pure metal ground. 

He ran for a bit more, hearing a whizzing as one of the horns was pulled back. Artificer hadn’t looked back. Another launch, startling him. He tripped, fell, and tumbled into the snow.

He looked back to the vulture, its feathers flapping in the howling wind as it’s hungry eyes stared down at him. A horn was pulled from the dirt, swinging wildly as the vulture snaked it back to the slot by its head. It slotted back in as Saint tried and failed to stumble to his feet.

More clicking, a beep as the horn was readied. The targeting laser extended from a mechanical point on the vulture’s forehead, flickering a moment before centering on his heart.

Saint had faced death before. Saint had died before.

But the fear in his heart now was something he had not felt in very long.

An explosion slammed into the bird, cracking off shards of its mask and horns and knocking it into the snow. Saint jumped back. He crawled away as the injured vulture reared back up, its gaze looking for the source of its assault.

“SAINT!” Artificer yelled, anger slightly masking significant worry in her voice.

He got to his feet and broke back into a run, his lungs and legs burning. He sprinted to the Artificer’s side, and she ran with him. They found a way back into the factory’s rooms and dove inside the tunnel, hoping they had finally found respite.

The Artificer stopped and stood, breathing heavily as Saint collapsed onto the metal floor. They caught their breath, praying nothing more would think to attack them.

“Fucken… hell!” The Artificer gasped. “Too fucking close…”

Saint sat up against the wall, still frazzled. He spent another moment to catch his breath fully.

“…Thank you, Artificer.” He said. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

She waved a hand in dismissal as she stood up. “Its nothing. Damn, that was something.”

Something, it was indeed.

The last of that guttural, strangling terror was fleeing his system, though he wished it would stay. He knew he’d felt that before, that horror beyond the mind’s self preservation. That was fear of the soul. Something more, something different than his body was in danger there. But why was it here?  What was different?

The Artificer. She was different.

Saint, in the face of being impaled, had worried about her. About what she’d go through if he died there.

He felt a very… odd sensation. Like a fluttery something in his chest. A sort of excited anxiety, stretching beyond his mind. He couldn’t place it. But he was sure he’d felt it before.

“…Alright, fuzzy.” The Artificer said. Saint would say she interrupted his thoughts, though she was really the only thing he was thinking of. “Let’s get moving.”

They started up the internals of the spire, ledges and outcroppings sticking out for purposes unknown and wind whistling through tunnels to the outside. Saint continued to trouble over the Artificer.

What did she mean to him? It had been some time since Saint had needed to ask himself that kind of question. He always knew what someone meant to him, he always understood what connection they shared, but not now.

Was it her violent nature? Was she so hurt, so scarred that he couldn’t bear the idea that she’d never find relief from her pain. That was reasonable.

Maybe he was mistaken. Something in his mind had simply short-circuited. He hadn’t died in a bit, maybe he was misplacing something.

Or… was Saint in denial of something?

He asked himself again.

What did the Artificer mean to him?

They reached the towers peak, moving past the scattered poles and structures to the edge.

The clouds blocked out the sky, the white haze coating the factories in an icy, cold fog. Orange glints of scavenger packs and tolls existed as dots in the snow, life mostly brushed from the snowdrifts as the mid-cycle cold took root. The crumbling chapel jutted out, closer than when they last saw it.

Saint gazed out for a moment, planning his route and theorizing what they might face. Depending on circumstances, they’d spend a cycle or two more here. 

He glanced to the Artificer.

Her gaze went further. To behind what remains of the citadel.

To the corpse of a god.

“…Artificer?” Saint asked.

She did not respond.

The Artificer walked to the edge, her stare blank with hidden grief. She sat down somewhat hollowly at the edge and stared.

Saint moved and sat down next to her. He scooted a bit closer, hoping she might remember that she wasn’t alone. 

“…Were you… close with Five Pebbles?” Saint asked her.

For a bit, he was unsure if she even heard him.

“…Yeah.” She said dully. Sadness had crept into her voice and expression.

Saint sat for a bit, believing it better to let her admit what she wanted to admit.

“…I never… saw it.” She said. He wasn’t sure if she was talking to him. “His- his leg gave out, and- and the rot, I… I ran.”

She paused for a bit.

“…I’m sorry, Pebbles…” She whispered.

She sat sadly for a bit. Saint stayed silent by her side, hoping his presence was remembered.

The Artificer’s sadness melted away. Or rather, something spread over it. Like a shield. Like a mask. Indignation, hidden grief, hatred.

Without a word she stood from the ledge and started back towards the internals of the tower. Saint sat for a moment, then trotted after her, a million thoughts moving in time with him.

Later they found themselves a shelter, crawling inside and locking up for the night once the Artificer found her meal. Her disposition remained grief-stricken, indignant, and most painful of all, hidden. She shared not a moment of it with Saint in the rest of the day's travels.

“Goodnight, Artificer.” Saint said politely once they had laid down.

She did not respond.

“…Would you like to talk?”

“No.” She said quickly.

…

“…I’m always here if that changes.”

Chapter Text

Artificer was not asleep.

She opened her eyes and glared at the wall, repressing the urge to spit in the face of the reflection she knew would be there. This wasn’t fair.

“Always here” he’d claimed. Not in a million fucking years. Not for her. Not once he knew.

What if he did? Could she not hope?

No. She couldn’t. There was nothing to hope for. And if there was, she didn’t deserve it.

Please. Just for a bit. Till they found Pebbles. Could she not be happy with him for just a little bit?

Mmhm. Walk the grave site of your victims, claiming yourself redeemed.

I’ve paid my fucking price!

No, you haven’t!  You repaid their’s thousandfold, you get it right back!

This is their fault!

This is your fault.

This is… our fault.

…Its all my fault.

Her left eye burned as water trickled from the edges of it’s sealed shut lid. Burnt. Cauterized shut. Carved across with a spear. Burnt again. She was lucky she could see at all.

She couldn’t hear correctly out of her right ear. Her hands and feet were rough and calloused, her maroon skin the texture of sandpaper. Scars of stab and slice wounds peppered her form. Her right side had a jagged burn scar almost covering her rib cage. Her left leg was discolored on the inner side with a nearly identical mark. Her tail was numb in a spot. That wasn’t the extent.

Her path had taken so much from her.

And it was all her fault.

She silently pleaded with fate, with herself. Did she not deserve some comfort? Torn in wake by threats, discomfort, wounds and scorn, kept up in the night by nightmares and insomnia and that horrid, grief-fueled hatred. Just a moment of peace. Please.

Someone. Anyone.

Saint.

She needed to hear his voice. She needed to feel his kind, soft tone wash over her and give her a clarity she hadn’t seen since before her crusade. Cloak her in his comforting poetics, shield her from the hatred she brought upon herself.

You don’t deserve a single second of that. This is why you can’t stay with him, this is why you shouldn’t fucking be here at all. You’re a fucking monster. You. Can’t. Have this.

In fact, you shouldn’t want this! What the fuck has he done but invade your space?! Leave! Or just fucking-!

STOP! You monster, how could you say that about him?!

See?! You’re a goddamn demon! You deserve to hear it!

Both of you, shut the fuck up!

Everyone shut up! Please, someone, say something!

NO!

STOP IT!

SHUT! UP!

Each mind she bore screamed in a cacophony of agony as she shut her eye tight. A chorus of catastrophic anger, sorrow, want, grief, rending her apart. It was too much. Who was she? Did that question have an answer? 

Of course it did. 

The worst creature to ever live. Cursed to live through hell. Each. And every. Day.

She heard a rustling behind her.

It was Saint, rolling over. She could barely hear it. 

He quietly yawned for a moment, his voice briefly conjured as he closed his mouth.

She heard that part.

He seemed to absorb the storm with his breath, the hurricane of thought sucked into nothing in an instant.

And just like that…

She was a little more okay.

She was trembling. Her breath was shaky, tears dampening her coarse skin. Her claws were dug into the metal beneath her, her tail curled around her form. Her left eye burned with tears still leaking past her eyelid, irritating her eternally tender flesh.

She took a deep breath.

That’s what Saint seemed to do.

It’ll… it’ll be alright.

No it won’t. It’ll never-

Stop. Just… just for tonight, don’t think about it.

We-I. I just have to get to sleep.

Just don’t think about it.

Don’t think about it…

Saint awoke in the morning as he usually did. The Artificer was laying across from him, her gaze falling upon the metal ground. A sort of… apathetic sorrow lay in her eyes. He could only imagine what might’ve tormented her that night, same with each and every other.

“Good morning, Artificer.” He greeted. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” She said quickly as she stood up. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Saint gave a quick sigh as the Artificer started towards the door. He toiled over what to do as he followed her outside.

“…Are you sure?” He asked her again.

“I’m fine, Saint.” She said offhandedly.

Saint sighed in his mind, a touch annoyed. Toiling over her words was unneeded at this point, but that did not excite him for another day of unproductive failures of bonding. 

So, they traveled in silence. Through storage systems, ventilation shafts, towers of pipes and collapsed metal ceilings. Through the endless caverns and winding tunnels, the snow growing stronger as they did so. Occasionally they reached the outside, seeing the citadel jutting out not too far off. They would likely reach it today.

“Nearly there.” Saint noted as they walked through the snowdrifts.

“…Mmhm.” She murmured.

They crawled back into the internals of the complex in silence. A touch more sorrow crept into Saint’s mind. They walked for a bit more toward the citadel.

“ARTIFICER!” Shouted an unknown voice, cutting through silence like a knife.

The phrase was not a call for her attention. It was a warning, laced with fear and worry.

Artificer tensed and dropped low as Saint jumped, startled. Her eyes flickered for the source of the sound.

Across the caverns struts and half-broken overhangs was a scavenger pack. One wore an elite mask, standing up front and pointing a spear with a red wrapping near the tip. The rest held weapons tensely and stayed back.

The Artificer gave an anguished, annoyed sigh, shaking her head at the ground.

“I don’t want any trouble.” She said, raising her voice to get it across the cavern. “Just leave me alone.”

Several scavengers seemed to get angry, stepping forward a touch more confidently. The front scavenger looked bewildered.

“You fucking with us?!” He yelled in question. “Leave you alone?!”

She looked rather annoyed, though something hid beneath it.

“…Yes.” She confirmed. “We made a-” She stopped and glanced back to Saint, seeming almost concerned. As if torn over knowledge the scavengers had that Saint didn’t. “… We made the deal for a reason.”

“With what fucking king?!” He shouted, stepping forward. The pack stepped forward with him.

The Artificer glared at him, death in her eyes. She closed her eye and took a very deep breath.

“…We made. A deal.” She repeated slowly.

“You think I give a fuck?!” He shouted angrily. “You fucking murdered-!”

“IF YOU SAY ANOTHER FUCKING WORD I’LL PUT A PIECE OF REBAR THROUGH YOUR FUCKING STERNUM!” She roared in interruption, her rage releasing. The scavengers shrunk back. Saint flinched. He caught an anguished glance in his direction from the Artificer.

Despite the elite’s gusto, he too fell back. Then he stepped forward, seeming to steel himself. Saint could see his hand shaking ever so slightly.

“You- You said that you wouldn’t-!” He began.

“OH, NOW YOU ABIDE BY THE FUCKING TREATY?!” She screamed in pure fury. “I’L RIP OUT YOUR FUCKING LUNGS AND FEED THEM TO YOU!!! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!!” 

He shrunk back again from her screaming rage, his body complying out of sheer self-preservation. His experience and weaponry was nothing to whatever Artificer was to them. He steeled himself again with some difficulty, raising the spear to a throwing position.

“Stop!” Saint yelled, stepped forward and holding an arm in front of the Artificer. “I’ll not let you harm her!” 

“…W-What?!” The scavenger yelled, stepping further back. “Do- do you know who you’re fucking defending!?”

“Yes, I do!” Saint shouted back.

“Really?! You don’t get it, you fucking- green bastard!” He shouted angrily.

“You are treading on thin ice, my friend.” Saint growled, glaring at the scavenger. “I wish you no harm, though I doubt that will stop her.”

“Of course it won’t! S-She’s a demon, you idiot!” Yelled the scavenger. “She-!”

“I don’t care what she did!” Saint interrupted as he heard the Artificer drew breath, stopping her from falling further into anguish. “Leave! Us! Alone!”

“SHE FUCKING-!” The scavenger began to yell.

Their voice cut off.

Replaced with a horrible gurgling, the sound of someone choking on their own blood.

The scavenger fell dead, a jagged bar of metal pierced through its throat.

Stillness. 

He glanced back to the perpetrator, the Artificer stood behind him with her arm still frozen where it ended the throw. She stared, eyes wide in a sort of madness, at the corpse she created, her breathing heavy and quick. He could feel a divide in his fur where the makeshift spear had whisked past his shoulder.

She stepped back, falling from her trance of urgency. She seemed to realize her actions, and their consequences. Resigned anger and dissatisfaction sunk into her posture as she looked to the ground, averting her eyes from Saint’s. He turned back to the scavengers, all frozen in fear.

“Please, be at peace.” He said across the room. “We wish no further harm.” Shortly after, one took the initiative and moved from the cavern. The rest followed urgently behind. He turned back to the Artificer.

So many things in such a simple shape, an unrefined rock of emotion rigged to detonate at any moment.

He steeled himself, praying he could use the right words.

“…I hope nothing you don’t wish me to know has been revealed.” Saint said apologetically. “If it means anything, I will have your company regardless of their hatred.”

She tensed, then relaxed.

She took a somewhat shaky breath.

She did not respond, simply staring at the ground. Anger shielding the pained guilt.

Then she sighed, the anger fading. She was left with a sort of sad resignation.

“…If things are as they should be, we may continue.” Saint offered.

“…Mmhm.” She murmured. “…Go- go ahead.”

Saint nodded at her, a little sorrowfully.

He crouched to four legs and trotted past her. She didn’t move to follow for quite some time. They started out again, her footsteps in the snow barely audible to him.

Time passed as they walked in silence, the howling wind beginning to slice across the Saint’s form. The crumbling spires began to loom over them as well, in tandem with the beginnings of the fallen superstructure emerging from the white haze of the storm. The end of their deal of guidance was nearing.

And still, indignation and guilt and shame and so much else still poisoned the Artificer’s demeanor. It was different and the same all at once, an ever shifting complex of thought. 

What would happen when they reached their deadline? If their relationship was in such flux… there was one answer. She would wish him gone.

Though… that idea was more complicated that when he last worried for it. She meant more to him, he meant more to her.

Or at least… He hoped he did.

He sighed quietly, struggling to keep the fire of hope alive. Ease of trust was lessening with each step he took. He tried to shake it off, though it stuck with him as it did with the Artificer. Like a cloak of misty gloom, hooking into the threads of his fur.

Doubt had sunk its teeth in. He told himself things would be fine, that the storm would pass as it had before. He struggled to convince himself, feeling his normally warm gaze fall to the snow. 

A sound interrupted him. Someone was walking up to him.

The Artificer stepped to his side, her footfalls in the snow becoming audible.

She avoided his gaze for a moment.

“…Hey, uh… you- you alright?” She asked him tentatively, looking up. “You seem… down…”

Saint’s heart fluttered from the place where it sat.

“…I suppose I am… anxious, I admit.” He conceded. “Doubt seems to have it’s hooks into me.”

She paused for a moment, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“…I don’t… know what to say to that.” She murmured hesitantly.

Saint found his dimness clearing away, the doubt slowly leaving his mind at the sound of her voice. Like the sun clearing away morning mist, leaving a warm humidity and plants glistening with dew.

“…Don’t fear. Your voice alone is a comfort, in a way.” He assured her softly.

She perked up, though it seemed like more of a flinch.

“Oh, uhm… thanks, I- I guess.” She stammered.

Saint smiled softly. “In return, Artificer.”

They walked quietly for another bit of time.

“…You wanna talk about something…?” The Artificer murmured out of the silence.

Saint tilted his head a bit. “…Yes, that would be nice. Alleviate some gloom from our minds.”

“Yeah, yeah…” She agreed. “I, uh. I’m not very good at small talk…”

Saint waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, no one is. I prefer to let conversation start itself.”

She seemed a bit puzzled. “So, you… don’t want to talk?”

“No, no!” Saint assured, chuckling a bit after. “You have begun a conversation, and now we are conversing.”

She gave a small, annoyed sigh. “Dude, you have to stop analyzing our conversations.” She said, the final traces of sorrow beginning to leave her voice. Replaced by her lighthearted annoyance. “Cause like, what the fuck are you on about?”

He laughed for a moment. “I apologize. I concede, I can be a touch of a rambler.” He admitted.

“Just a touch.” She agreed sarcastically. “Eeeeeeeeever so slightly.”

Saint chuckled again. She let a slight smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

“Where’d you even get that from?” She inquired. “How do you start being that… eloquent, I guess, without just being an iterator or something?”

He chuckled again. “I believe I’ve told you before. Time has its marks on my vocabulary.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She admitted. “But like, you ever talked to one? That’s exactly how they talk.”

“I cannot deny that fully, though I haven’t spoken to many of them.” Saint admitted. “If I might ask, have you any examples?”

“Pebbles.” She said without hesitation. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the guy, but ohhhhh my god he never shuts up.” Saint chuckled a little before she continued. “It takes like, twenty minutes to get through one conversation where I don’t speak. I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever heard the motherfucker use the word talk.”

Saint laughed aloud at that jab. A grin began to tug at the edges of the Artificer’s mouth.

“Seriously!” She exclaimed. “I swear to god, with the amount of commas in his sentences you could snatch em’ all out, craft a spear out of them and stab a lizard with it!”

Saint laughed harder for a bit. She chuckled quietly alongside him.

“Void, curse me, that is funny.” Saint muttered, shaking the last of the laughter from his system.

She gave a final small laugh. “Yeah. He’s funny.” She agreed. “Guy means a lot to me, though…”

Saint smiled at her. “That’s good. I’m glad to know your bond with him.”

They shared a moment together. Simply smiling together, for their own reasons, in their own ways.

”…Alright, let’s cut the sentimental shit.” The Artificer said jokingly, walking past him. “We got places to be.” 

“Indeed we do.” Saint agreed, walking to her side.

They returned to traveling, a type of connection and joy in the air Saint had never felt between them before. And though it was maintained for some time… it wasn’t permanent.

He could feel the lightheartedness draining from her as they walked. Reminders of her dreads, of her doubts. Of Pebbles’ fall, of Saint’s… whatever her thoughts on him were. He wasn’t sure, but he was confident he was on the list. She slowly sunk back into indignant guilt, unable to ignore whatever pulled her down.

Saint sighed to himself, the same thoughts as usual beginning to swirl in his mind. They walked for a bit, Saint a touch resigned to her consistent fall into dread. Not until they bonded further could he do anything to help.

He glanced back to the Artificer. And, perhaps it was wishful thinking, but… something different was in her eyes. 

He couldn’t… really tell. But it was something good. Something trying to be hopeful.

It gave him some joy. He wondered if his eyes might ever bring her the same.

They reached a crumbling bridge, reaching from the metallic structures of the complex and stretching above a fall to the ground far below. Across a gap was a stone structure, metal pipes and mechanisms stretching out from the box. They crawled through to the exit to the factory.

They had reached the gate of the citadel. The gate to the corpse.

The gate to the grave of a god.

Chapter Text

The gate was uneventful, the reveal anticlimactic. This wasn’t the real goal anyway.

The slugcats crawled through the broken halls and shattered windows, silent anticipation wracking their minds. Artificer was unsure of what the wreck might mean to her, Saint was concerned of how she’d react to it. A close friend collapsed into nothing but a mound of steel.

Lantern mice scampered fearfully around them as they moved through the rubble, the shrines peppered with ornate banners and decorations torn to dust and repurposed. They found another bridge, connecting to another piece of the citadel. Decay behind them, icy wind above, a grave poking out from behind the spires in front, and endless black below. The howling winds tore across the expanse, beginning to turn Saint’s fur a paler shade of green.

Back inside the cathedral, darkness returning only to be snuffed out by snow. Holes in ceilings laid in tandem with mounds of scrap metal beneath, broken pieces falling before the true collapse began. Spiders skittered through the dark now, forcing their guard up as they examined the slugcats from the shadows. Another break in the walls to another bridge.

And just like that… that was all the citadel had to give.

Across the broken and crumbling bridge was a cliff face of bent and jagged steel, rising past the horizon and blocking out the landscape of the fallen construct. The sheets of snow battered against the unnatural monument, slowly tearing apart what little memory of the mechanical god was left.

There was a moment of stillness as they took it in. Artificer was frozen still, no emotion on her face.

She started forward suddenly, bounding rapidly across the broken bridge and towards the cliff’s bottom. Saint stumbled to follow her.

“Artificer! Wait!” He yelled over to her; the wind beginning to lower his voice and push him back. He earned no response. Saint gritted his teeth and pushed harder through the wind as he ran to catch up to her.

He caught up with her in a small cave, shielded from the wind by a jagged tunnel that led to it. Her gaze flickered around the alcove rapidly, as if searching for an exit. In plain view was a shelter symbol, carved into the wall.

“Uhm… Artificer, if I may ask…?” He said, trotting to her side.

“I’m getting to him.” She said firmly. “Today.”

“Artificer, it is far to long of a-”

“No, it isn’t. This is his upper left wall.” She interrupted. “That leads to the top leads to the entrance leads to his chamber. I can make it.”

That wasn’t true. Not anymore. But Saint doubted she’d listen when he told her that.

Her eyes found an exit tunnel.  She darted towards it, Saint racing after.

“Artificer, it is more complicated than-!”

“I fucking live here, Saint!” She shouted back. She launched out of the tunnel and to the outside, already looking for a path up the looming cliffside. “I know this place!”

“It is different!” He pleaded as he left the tunnel. She launched away, digging her claws into the metal wall and beginning to scramble up it, scrap and shrapnel falling to the bridge and black abyss below as she climbed. Saint grappled after her as she leaped and launched her way up.

Saint didn’t know what he would do if he caught her. Nor did he know if he’d catch her at all. She clawed her way up with viscous efficiency as if her life depended on it. In her mind, Pebbles’ life depended on it. She still had not realized that he had no life left to lose.

Saint felt the storm searing across him as he climbed, finding further cold in the metal he grappled across. Shivers began to run down his spine, further slowing his pace. Artificer was gaining ground quickly. He wouldn’t be able to catch her, much less convince her in time.

She clambered over the edge and disappeared into the white haze. Saint leaped after her and into the snow-covered peak, feeling the drifts push ice into his veins and slowing him further. He could barely see his companion sprinting ahead through the storm, her footprints flinging ice and melted snow across the peak.

“A-Artificer!” Saint tried to yell. He was too weak to overcome the howl of the wind. He raced further, the Artificer nearly dissolving into the white haze.

She skidded to a stop.

Saint bounded towards her.

He stumbled to her side.

She stood at the cliffs edge, staring blankly out into the cold, white void.

Saint caught his breath, shivering.

“I- I don’t…” She said, her voice barely audible over the wind. “Where… where’d it go…?”

No landscape was visible. Only the ground beneath their feet and the endless white.

“I’m sorry, Artificer!”  Saint yelled through the wind, barely able to keep his teeth from chattering. “We have to get inside!”

“He… he was here, it…” She said, completely bewildered. “What… what happened…?”

Saint could conjure no words. Nothing would help.

She’d lived a lifetime here. She simply couldn’t conceive this drastic of a change.

Her gaze flickered to Saint. Then the void.

She stepped back, horror sinking into her expression.

She stumbled backwards and broke into a sprint as if death itself were chasing her.

Saint was forced to race her back down the cliffside, her pace quickened by fear. Chilling weakness wracked his form by the time he reached the bottom. He stumbled into the shelter, his fur the same color as the snow and covered in sheets of it. The Artificer was already there, catching her breath in the corner. Saint fumbled for the locking button and collapsed, exhausted and shivering as the shelter closed.

“V-Void-d…” Saint cursed under his breath as he gathered himself into a ball, his teeth chattering. He didn’t see the Artificer shut her eye and turn away.

He shivered in silence for a bit, pressing himself into his tail.

Alone. Cold. Trembling.

Nothing could so quickly isolate him, the white void of the storm mimicking the wretched place that claimed itself his home. His attempts to connect to life, to separate from that endless black only drove him back into isolation. Ice flowed through his veins, his emotions rapidly spiraling as the void in his soul took shape.

Disconnected from the world he loved. Chained to the emptiness he despised.

He was alone in the void.

He was alone.

He felt a sort of… warming presence fall by his side.

He looked up from his ball to find the Artificer laying next to him, turned away, resting in the same position she always did.

She was warm. Slightly. A heat emanated from her form, beginning to melt the snow at the edges of his fur. At this distance, barely enough to even slow the shivers.

But despite that, he felt a different warmth carve through his being and root out the ice in his blood. A flood of relief from the isolating chill, the void in his being crushed and replaced with a wondrous new feeling he would never be able to describe.

He remembered why he hoped.

He thought better of saying goodnight. The moment was too tense, too fragile.

He scooted a bit closer, his fur brushing against her scarred skin.

The Saint drifted to sleep.

Artificer awoke from a deeper sleep than she had had in hundreds of cycles.

Saint’s arms were wrapped around her. She had turned to face him, curled up in his embrace and snuggling into his fur. He was so soft. So comforting. So anchoring. The eternal, lonely chill that plagued her skin was eased. She felt safe. She could barely recognize the feeling.

The voices in her mind had been hushed, shoved to the back of her mind and dimmed. She had been blessed with clarity.

What if… what if he was the way out?

She pulled away.

Not yet.

Because we don’t deserve it-

Just- shut it. Not. Yet.

Just have to make it to Pebbles.

The morning was uneventful for Saint. He awoke, the Artificer standing across from him as always. He stood and shook the last dregs of stuck snow from his fur, greeted his companion, and they started their journey into the construct.

“Hey, uh, Saint?” The Artificer asked early on in their climb back up the cliff. “Are we heading to the top?”

“…I’m not sure.” Saint admitted, turning to look down at her from the ledge he stood on. “I’d like to find my bearings, but I imagine it will be difficult for you to see his facility as it is.”

She clambered up to his side and stared upward, lost in thought.

Saint ran through the choices in his mind.

“…If it means anything, I will be there to help you through the grief.”

Her gaze flickered to him, then away, out into the white abyss that threatened to swallow them if they should fall.

She considered for a bit. She idly made the motion of twirling something through her fingers with her right hand.

“…I’ll be alright.” She said, turning back to him.

Saint nodded. “All is well. I shall see you at the top.”

Another arduous climb later and they reached the summit, moving along the ground of strewn-about scrap metal and snowdrifts. They walked alongside each other, the edge nearing ever closer.

Something was different with the Artificer again. In the way that… nothing was different. The traces of emotion, anger, frustration, guilt had left her outward demeanor, though not without some difficulty. He still caught brief sparks of sadness or anger in her eye. But she seemed almost… relaxed? Saint wasn’t sure what to think.

They neared the edge. The Artificer took a deep breath.

The silent construct appeared in their vision.

A cliff of shattered steel, looking out over an incomprehensible expanse of collapsed structures covered in snowdrifts and ice. Hills of metal jutted out at random in cruel spikes, massive sinkholes occasionally opened to lead into the lower labyrinth of the broken superstructure’s internals. Far across the white storm was another half-obscured cliff of metal, forming a massive canyon of space between the west and eastern sides. Gargantuan pipes ran in and out of the heaps of crushed steel, twisted and broken. The one still-standing leg jutted out to the side of the other half of the canyon. No life crawled through the flats. It was too cold. Too jagged. Too dead.

The Artificer sat down, staring blankly across the corpse.

Saint sat down by her side, scooting closer till his fur brushed her shoulder. 

He placed his hand atop hers.

After a moment, she turned her hand over and fiddled with his absentmindedly, her gaze still locked on the canyon.

She closed her eye and took a deep breath.

She opened her eye and looked out across the expanse for another moment, still gently fiddling with Saint’s fur.

Her gaze flickered to his hand, then quickly back. She pulled away and rested her hand in front of her. Saint pushed no further.

“…I’m good.” She said quietly. “Let’s-”

She paused, tensing as her ears perked up.

“MOVE-!”

A king vulture’s horn shot into the snow beside them as she essentially tackled Saint to the side. He tumbled into the snow and off the ledge, feeling broken metal cut across his back as he rolled off. He spun through the air for a moment before latching his tongue back to the wall, slamming back into the cliff edge and sending ringing pain through his side as snow cascaded off the cliff face.

Another mechanical ch-chink rang out, the next horn firing off. He regained his senses and began pulling himself back up the ledge. He heard the Artificer leaping and snarling in the fight above.

He clambered back onto the ledge, still a bit dazed. The Artificer was, naturally, attempting to leap onto the vulture and get up close, as she lacked a weapon. Saint’s eyes scrambled to find something she could use.

He saw a piece of rebar jutting from the snow. He shook the last of the dizziness from his mind and bounded towards it, hearing the whizzing of the monarch pulling it’s horns back to their slots.

A snarl, a buzz, a releasing of steam. The Artificer slammed into him, evidently thrown from wherever she had latched onto the predator. They tumbled through the snow, Saint hearing another whizz as the second horn clicked into place. He looked up to the bird in time to see it’s targeting laser form.

He stumbled into a run, barely avoiding the first launch and falling back to the ground. He glanced back to see where the Artificer was. She had done the same, rolling away from the first impact point and trying to get to her feet. She stumbled as the laser focused on her heart.

She rolled to her side just in time for the horn to embed mere inches from her. She was unfazed. She used it as a support to yank herself to her feet and gripped the thin wire connecting the monarch to it’s weapon. She bit into the space between her grip and the horn, a loud snap ringing out. The wire was broken.

She wrapped the excess around her wrist till the string was tight, leaped into the air and let her weight fall onto the wire. It reached it’s limit, yanking the bird downward as it let out a squawk of pain. The monarch began to retract the wire in reflex, coincidentally bringing the Artificer straight to her target.

Saint finally shook from his awe. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed the makeshift spear from where it stuck in the ground, turning back to the Artificer just as she latched onto the bird’s main body.

“Artificer!” He shouted, raising the spear.

She glanced to him, hanging onto its neck as it flailed and thrashed in the air. She glanced around for a moment. The monarch pulled it’s remaining horn back to it’s slot, Artificer perking up it did so.

She jumped to it’s head and hung from the horn’s tip, staring murderously into the vulture’s eyes. She leaped out of it’s way just as it fired off, sticking into the ground with her still latched on. Saint bounded to her side and passed the rebar to her. She began to gnaw on the bar as Saint ran back to safety, the vulture attempting to do the same and fly away. The wire reached it’s capacity, causing the mechanism to automatically retract the horn and pull Artificer back with it.

She swung for a moment as it whizzed through the air, a red glob now pierced on her weapon’s point. She readied it as the wire pulled her ever closer, the monarch looking back to her in fearful anticipation.

She shoved the spear straight through it’s mandibles and down it’s throat. A mechanical crunch, a strangled cry of pain from the monarch. The slot broke off as the horn returned, flinging her into the air as the fuse sparked and burnt away.

The vulture fell from the sky, it’s mechanisms failing, horns broken, life snuffed out. The Artificer flipped through the air as she fell. She hit the ground, rolled and leaped into the air. The sparking sound of the fuse ran out.

She shouted in victory in time with the explosion, silhouetting her in a firework of fire and shrapnel. A spectacle of carnage rewarding a display of combat mastery.

She landed and turned to the corpse as it disappeared below the ledge, laughing excitedly.

“Get FUCKED you DUMBASS!” She shouted victoriously. She turned back to Saint and jumped again with a whoop of exhilaration. She landed, grinning and bouncing back and forth as Saint moved up to her.

“Quite the display!” Saint commended as he trotted up.

“Damn fucking right!” She agreed. “I fucken trashed that guy! WHOO!” 

Saint chuckled at her elation. He watched her bounce around, releasing the last of her adrenaline. He rarely saw her so elated. It was wonderful.

“Okay, okay, I’ll chill out.” She said, slowing herself down.

Saint chuckled again. “Thank you, Artificer.” He said. “For saving my life, not for chilling out, to be clear.”

She chuckled. “Ah, it’s nothing. I do stuff like that all the time.”

She smiled for a bit more.

Then her grin began to fade.

She looked away, to the snow at her side. The guilt returned to her eyes, a distaste with the way of life she’d chosen to become so skilled at. She glanced to her bloodied claws, the symbol of the monster she thought she was.

“…You don’t need to apologize for staying alive.” Saint reminded her softly, the elation fading from the room.

“Mmhm.” She murmured. “Says the pacifist.”

Saint was unsure of what was worth revealing.

“…Not forever.” He corrected.

She perked up, a bit puzzled.

“…Not before.” He elaborated.

She seemed to understand his rhetoric.

She thought for a moment.

A sort of revelation crossed her face.

“…Let’s not dwell on the past.” Saint said, stepping closer to her. “The now is more important. And the yet, further so.”

He repressed a strange urge to take her hands in his.

“…Yeah.” She agreed. “I… I guess your right.”

The climb back down would’ve been complicated, overly so. They elected to move into the rotted internals, full of broken pipes and meandering caverns, all falling slowly towards the lower sections of the flats. Saint was beginning to toil over what in the world could so thoroughly devastate an iterator can, collapse and chew through and break apart all at once. The method of fall was one of the few things hidden from Saint.

Their passage through the tunnels was not easy. Spiders of several varieties skittered through the tight tunnels, held back by the Artificer’s snarls and scratches. Lantern mice, scampering about, their best light source. Each pipe and tunnel was tight, jagged, meandering, swinging wildly with sharp corners of broken metal.

“I’m gonna get- fucken- jumped by something.” The Artificer grunted, pushing herself through the cramped tunnels ahead of Saint. “You’re still telling me where to go, right?”

He pushed himself around a corner, avoiding the sharpened edges of scrap poking out. “In spoken word.” He confirmed. “Though- your instincts seem to be-Hmph. Keeping us on course...”

“Oh, flattering.” She muttered. “I’m blaming you when I fall face-first into a stalactite. Don’t correct me.” The last part was added on right after she finished her sentence, in anticipation of Saint correcting her grammar.

“You are quite talkative today.” Saint remarked. “Not to my displeasure.” He added.

“Oh, shut it, fuzz-FUCK!”

The Artificer fell from his view. He heard a thud not far below.

“Artificer!” He yelped, running to the hole and leaning over the ledge to see her. “Are you alright?!”

“No!” She shouted back up, laying on her back on a cavern floor several feet below.

“…Is that sarcastic?” Saint asked tentatively.

She gave a resigned sigh. “Yes. Yes, it is, Saint.”

“Good.” Saint stuck his tongue to the ceiling and lowered to her side, offering a hand to help her up once he reached the ground. She took it and stood by his side.

“You gotta chill out, Saint.” She told him. “I’m sarcastic, like… always. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Saint nodded his head to the side in acknowledgment. “That is good to know. Though I prefer to keep aware.”

She stated at him for a moment, seeming to mull over his words.

“…Alright.” She said. “…Which way we headed?”

“That way.” Saint said, pointing to where his instincts claimed. He found himself pointing at a wall. “…More accurately, that way.” He corrected, pointing to the cave system leading generally to that direction.

She nodded. Silence returned, Saint moving back to his thoughts. Though, today it seemed as if he wasn’t the only one thinking.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Artificer found her meal, Saint found himself a colony of orange mold to snack on (much to Artificer’s disgust), and they moved into a shelter before the wind could begin carving past the metal ceiling. They each sat down on the usual sides, though something seemed different in their dynamic.

Saint began to lay down. He didn’t notice the Artificer begin to step forward, then quickly retreat, as if unsure what to do.

She tentatively laid down, though still facing him.

“Goodnight, Artificer.” Saint said softly as he rested on his hands and closed his mind.

She didn’t respond for a moment.

“…Hey, Saint?” She asked. He opened his mind to see her.

“…You can… You can call me Arti.” She said tentatively, her voice mixed with a thousand things. “…It’s what my… friends call me.”

Saint’s eyes widened, in the way they best could. His heart fluttered.

“…Thank you, Arti.” He said gently. “I am eternally grateful.”

“…It’s nothing.” She murmured, turning away so her head faced the wall. “…It’s just… y’know.” She mumbled. “…You’re cool.”

He chuckled. “…Same to you, my friend.”

“…G’night, fuzzy.”

“Goodnight, Arti.”

Chapter Text

The Saint was dreaming again.

A worm was already above them, looming over them as its body unfurled behind it. The eyes stared scornfully, the hooks twirled cruelly, the light shining bright across Saint’s face.

“I regret to say it, my friend, but this meeting is more pointless than the last.” The Saint said dully.

The static in tgeir ears escalated, rising into a catastrophic tidal wave of sensory destruction in the same voice every worm spoke with. Roaring thoughts of an entity beyond creation, screaming past them and condensing slowly into proper information.

The Saint took a deep breath, then sighed.

“… This, still, is not your prerogative nor your problem.” They reminded them. “Or are you perhaps angry at my actions in our last meeting?”

The senses themselves, crushed inward by the worm’s voice. An anger-infused shockwave that might rend a soul in half. Not for The Saint. 

”… I see you have again forgotten who you are speaking with.” The Saint said, somewhat annoyed.

The worm bellowed loud enough to part the sea, whether of void or water.

”I will not put myself in such discomfort as to cease this form just so you don’t have to lessen your ego.” The Saint retorted. “You are speaking to a slugcat or you are speaking to nothing.” 

The worm’s wave began once more. The Saint suppressed the petty urge to feign a yawn in boredom. 

“Would you like to discuss or to continue insulting me, young cycle?” The Saint asked, tilting their head and floating forward in the black. 

The Saint waited impatiently for the next wave to dissipate. 

“We have cycled, humorously. Not your problem, not under your control.” They pointed out. “May I leave yet?” 

The worm’s fury reached a breaking point. It’s form writhed and undulated, cracking it’s body like a whip as the pink tips of their fins flashed through the endless black. Its body rose above them, preparing for a strike that could split the earth asunder.

The Saint stared up at impending oblivion, and gave a half annoyed, half-relieved sigh.

That was one way to end this meeting.

Saint awoke, naturally a little weary from his fitful sleep. He never liked conversing with the worms. He stretched and stood, the Artificer laying across from him. Usually, she laid down when something tormented her the night before. But today, her eyes showed no discontent.

“Mornin, Saint.” She greeted. “How’d you sleep?”

“Uncharacteristically mediocre, in fact.” He answered. “But I will be fine. How did you?”

She thought a moment, her dreads and anxieties beginning to sink back into her expression. Then she pushed them away. She shrugged.

“Eh. I dunno.” She replied. “Good, I guess.”

Saint nodded. “Is there perhaps something on your mind?”

The emotion in her eyes answered for him. Full of tentative hope and dread and fear and suppressed hate and, most of all, thought. A thought that things might be different for her.

“…I dunno.” She repeated. “I don’t… yeah. I just don’t.”

Saint chuckled a bit. “Alright. Shall we head out?”

She stood up. “Not much else to do.”

They started out. Despite the void’s chains, Saint was in a relatively good mood.

The Artificer was… complicated.

Mixed. She seemed to be more lighthearted than usual, no longer wearing a constant half-scowl, her demeanor more relaxed than tense. But dread still seemed to haunt her, turning to familiar anger or bitterness or sorrow. Only expressed in slight glances, brief stints of sadness shining in her eye. Then returning to the sort of relaxation, almost… satisfaction? Perhaps hope? No, no. Maybe… ignorance, of the dread. Saint hoped she was simply trying to live in the moment, though that did imply she thought that moment would be short-lived. The end of their deal still loomed high.

They traveled through the caverns, tunnels and circuits for a while, Saint’s instinctual guidance growing unhelpfully stronger. He couldn’t particularly tell where they were relative to the canyon or it’s sides, just that Five Pebbles was somewhat forward and above them. And that the other iterator wasn’t far either, the pinging pull meddling with his sense of direction. He hoped they were headed to the right place.

They crawled through another section of pipes, dropped through the levels of a meandering cave and found an odd hole in the ground. Thin rocks reaching a breaking point and giving way to a larger cavern below, stretching far in both directions. Wind howled through an unseen entrance.

“What…?” Saint muttered to himself. “Are we near the flats…?”

“How’s the sense of direction treating ya?” The Artificer asked, a touch amused.

“Poorly.” Saint admitted. “Could’ve sworn we were still beneath the snow, but now I’m…”

His ears perked up, the Artificer’s having done so just seconds before. A viscous snapping sound began to near them, in turn with the pounding of metal against metal. Scrap metal detaching from mounds, mechanisms clinking and releasing.

A massive bio-mechanical bird launched past their view, only it’s main body mass being organic. Hydraulic springs pulling and releasing with terrifying force to launch the exterminator forward. Serrated metal jaws longer than the thing’s neck snapped and snipped like scissors as bright yellow eyes gleamed in maddened hunger.

“Miros birds.” Saint muttered fearfully, more of the exterminators following the first.

“The fuck is a miros?” Artificer inquired.

“Oh- it’s…” Saint stammered, realizing his slip. The ancients who made these beasts called them that. Saint, as Artificer knew him, would not know that.

“… Just a nickname I have. Found it off an iterator long ago.” He excused, not very confident in his alibi.

She stared at him for a moment, puzzled.

Saint spent a moment wondering if she was beginning to see past his ruse. Not of the name, but the larger one.

She shook her head. When she looked back, it was gone.

“Eh. Cool.” She said with a shrug. “Thank fuck they’re-”

A massive crash knocked Saint away from the ledge, the Artificer stumbling as well. Rocks and debris tumbled from the ceiling. Saint steadied himself to find the source.

A particularly dedicated scissor bird had leaped off a mound of scrap beneath them and slammed… some part of itself into their floor. Another crash as it tried again. Pieces of the ground Saint was on began to crack off and fall.

“Saint!” Artificer yelled, reaching for him where he laid. A louder crash knocked her to her back. A bird had leaped high enough to latch it’s jaws onto the opposite ledge, now swinging and writhing in attempt to kick the ground Saint and Artificer stood on. Saint again stumbled and fell as he tried to run. Artificer’s instincts took hold and brought her to safety.

The bird swung with all it’s strength and full force kicked into the rocks beneath Saint, the devastatingly destructive hydraulic shattering the ground in an instant. Artificer was too slow. Saint tumbled downward and fell into the cavern below.

He hit the ground with a painful crash, knocking the wind from his lungs. He gasped for air as he tried to find his bearings. He was on one side of a large mound, likely the one his assaulter had leaped from. Not far in front of him the howling wind carved through a cave opening, leading outward to the snowdrifts.

An exterminator launched over the crest of the hill and tumbled to the ground, it’s bright yellow eye already locked on him as twisted and contorted in the fall. Saint scrambled and stumbled up the hill as it found it’s footing.

Another bird slammed into the first, sending them both tumbling once more. Metal bending, jaws snipping. Saint scrambled to the hilltop, no sign of his companion in sight. He tried to leap and grapple to the ceiling, but it was too far.

The legs of another exterminator nearly punted him as he crested the hill, startling him and sending him rolling down the opposite side. He again struggled to find his bearings. One miros bird was laying not far away, snapping and writhing angrily but not standing. The hydraulic making one of it’s legs seemed to be snapped at the joint. It was likely the one that knocked him down here, the fall breaking it’s leg.

One of his original attackers launched back over the hill, landing beak-first in the scrap and leaving massive scars in the ground as it locked onto him once more. Saint stumbled ineffectually away as the next crested as well, slamming into the first bird again. Thankfully the third had lost interest, though it didn’t make his chances particularly better. Scrap sliding beneath him, his hands covered in shallow cuts from the gravel coated ground, the mound already half-broken, he was running out of places to run.

One of the exterminators untangled from the other. It stumbled toward him, then broke into a sprint, jaws snipping to rend him apart. The next followed close behind.

Something sharp shot downward through the first bird’s spherical head, impaling it with a destructive buzz of cut wires and shattered electronics. It’s eyes went dark. The next stumbled over it’s corpse and fell beak-first into the scrap, sprawling onto the ground.

A force slammed into the bird as it tried to get up. The sound of a fuse burning filled the air.

It was the Artificer, an explosive spear jammed deep into the bird's organic frame. She launched into the air with a loud crack, flipping in a sort of viscous elegance and hucking a grenade straight down at it. It exploded in tandem with the spear, fully blasting the exterminator to shreds and sending it’s mechanical pieces everywhere. Saint got to add a new experience to his list, that being nearly impaled by the detached upper beak of a Miros extermination unit.

The Artificer landed and rolled to the corpse of the non-detonated exterminator. She took several large chomps out of it’s flesh and swallowed each, making a meal of it with urgency. Then she bounded towards Saint with even further speed.

“GET MOVING, FLUFFY!” She shouted, bounding towards him. Saint stumbled as she shot past him, grabbing his hand and helping him roughly to his feet. They reached the crest of the hill and skidded to a stop.

“UP!” She shouted at him, pointing at the ceiling. Saint took her hand, leaped and barely managed to grab the cavernous roof, pulling the two of them up as fast as he could. Another pack of exterminators raced by, snapping madly at the Artificer from where she hung.

“Void, you are heavy-!” Saint strained, struggling to keep his grip.

“Oh, fuck off!” She shouted in return. The Artificer kicked her feet back and forth, beginning to swing from Saint as if he were a very talkative vine. She swung and kicked off of him, barely avoiding the jaws of death beneath her and blasted herself back into the cave above. Saint followed shortly after.

Neither were satisfied with their safety. They stumbled up and out of the cavern, back through the pipes and into another cave, both collapsing on the ground.

The two caught their breath for a moment.

“… You good?” The Artificer asked, sitting up.

“Physically...” Saint confirmed breathlessly.

She nodded. “Great.”

Silence for another moment. Saint sat up.

“…So. I… noticed an entrance to the flats.” Saint mentioned.

“You could not fucking pay me to go back down there.” She said quickly.

“Just the same.” He agreed. “But it does give us an idea of where we are.”

She gave a sigh. “Fair…” She admitted begrudgingly. “Heading back the way we came?”

Saint nodded. “Indeed.”

They again found themselves struggling through the endless maze in silence, Saint partaking in the usual pastime, that being thinking about Artificer.

The confusion she had shown when he referred to the Miros birds was haunting him. The expression he’d seen a thousand times, the harbinger of the reveal. It wasn’t a particularly large development, but he still feared his ruse would break apart sooner than he planned. And then… well, that was the hard part. The part Saint never seemed to get the hang of.

He could see the interaction in his mind.

“Why would you care about me, why would you help me?!” She might shout. “When you’re some kind of-!”

Saint couldn’t bear to finish the statement. He hated that word.

What other one could you use?

There at the true beginning, there at the theoretical end, blessed by a curse casted by no one at all.

A god, one might say.

“Some berries up there.” Said the Artificer’s voice, breaking him from his miasma of gloom. “If you want a snack.

He perked up slightly at the sound of her voice. It was grounding, like a rope tying him to reality. He was here, with a friend. One who hopefully called him the same thing.

“… Is that a no, or…?”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry.” He said, chuckling a little nervously. “Entrapping thoughts, as usual. Yes, I would, thank you.”

She nodded her head towards the collection of hanging fruits. The Saint grappled up to the ceiling, grabbing a few of the blue plants from their vines along the way and rested on an overhang on the wall. The Artificer sat down on a similar ledge not far below him and surveyed the area for threats.

He ate in silence for a bit, his worries beginning to creep back in. He wondered if hearing her voice again might help.

“Arti, if I might ask…” Saint said, hoping to make conversation. “Are you a carnivore by choice or biology?”

She gave a sigh. “Biology.” She said plainly.

“You sound dissatisfied.” Saint noted after swallowing another bite of the berries.

“Hm.” She grunted. “I dunno, I just… sometimes I don’t wanna kill stuff. Sometimes I’m tired and it’d be way easier to just snatch a few plants and call it a day.”

Her voice held no lies, though it seemed she was holding onto another reason. One left unsaid.

“What about you?” She asked, looking up at him on the ledge.

“Biology.” He stated. “Same as you.”

“See, that never made sense to me.” She remarked, leaning back a bit so as to not crane her neck. “How can you not get food out of them?”

Saint tilted his head, though kept his mouth shut, as he was chewing at that moment.

“Like, I bite into a berry, doesn’t do anything for me.” She elaborated. “Is that what’s it’s like for you? Most lizards would just… be enough to make a meal anyway.”

“… Oh! I understand.” Saint exclaimed after a moment, leaning forward and looking down at her. “You are carnivorous because flora do not nourish you effectively, despite being edible, correct?”

“Mmhm.” She confirmed.

“That is not how it is for me.” He clarified. “I simply cannot eat meat. It causes extreme discomfort, shaking fits, and often, rapid vomiting.”

Her eyes widened. She paused for a moment.

“… Huh.” She said simply, leaning forward to sit normally. She thought for a second.

“… You know those berries are like, bug- cocoons, or something, right?

Saint took a moment to finish chewing. “… Who told you that?”

“An iterator.” She stated, leaning back again.

He nodded for a moment, again chewing on a berry.

He gave an overdramatic gasp and leaned off the ledge, plopping onto the snow-covered ground with a dull thud.

“Oh, the agony!” He cried in a theatrical mimic of pain, and stretching a hand into the air dramatically.

The Artificer laughed at his little skit for a moment as he sat up.

“Oh, fuck off, fuzzy…” She muttered, chuckling.

He laughed quietly in turn as he moved to sit by her side. “Enjoying my theatrics?” He inquired as he sat down.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She said, pushing him slightly, though the grin still on her face implied a yes. It made Saint rather happy.

“Are you perhaps warming up to me?” He asked, smirking.

She continued to grin for a moment.

The pattern repeated. Dread, sadness crept into her expression as she turned her gaze to the snow. She shook her head, seemingly trying to push it away, but failed.

“… Yeah. I… guess so.” She murmured.

She didn’t think it would last, that had been made clear. Saint debated telling her that he would be happy to accompany her past their goal, but he felt it was something deeper. Something she was hiding that she thought would turn him away.

He just had to wait. Patience would see him through.

“… Let’s find ourselves a shelter.” Saint said, standing up. “I’m glad I can give you some joy.”

She shook her head again, then stood. “… Yeah.” She agreed. She sighed. “… Thanks, I guess.”

Saint nodded. “The pleasure is mine.”

Their remaining travels for the day were uneventful. They crawled into a somewhat spacious shelter, the boxy walls giving way to various pipes and divots. Saint took his place on one side, then laid down with a quiet sigh.

He wanted to be closer to her. In the moment, because he wanted her to know he was there for her. There was another reason, naturally, but he had yet to notice. He considered for a second. 

Just a little less distance couldn’t hurt, right?

Saint quietly stood and pawed over to the half-collapsed wall opposite the shelter entrance and tentatively laid down. The Artificer opened her one eye and stared at him for a moment.

“… I’d like to sleep a little closer tonight, if that is alright.” Saint said softly. “Call me frazzled by the scissor birds.”

She glanced back and forth for a moment.

“Mm.” She grunted. She closed her eye and readjusted, then stilled once more.

Saint gave a contented sigh, feeling oddly safe when near her. He settled in and laid his mind to rest.

Chapter Text

The next day, Saint prepared a task for them. With the arduous climbs ahead, a lantern to resist the high winds and chilling storm would assist him in not freezing to death. Since they were presumably near the flats, and needed to find the canyon wall, and would likely find some kind of scavenger toll atop the snow, they decided it was worth the danger.

“Welcome to vulture central.” Artificer sighed as she clambered out into the morning snowfall.

”I’m sure we will be fine.” Saint assured as he followed behind. “I trust your skills, do you not?”

“… Guess not.” She admitted. “Keeps me alive.” 

“You sound unhappy with that.” Saint noted.

“… Hm.” She grunted.

The flats were empty, cold, dead. White haze almost fully obscured the canyon walls; in later moments of the storm, it would likely seem to be an endless plane, surrounded by void. They kept their eyes looking for the orange glow of scavenger lanterns and their ears perked for the ventilating steam from vultures.

“You have a pearl for them, right?” The Artificer asked as they trudged through the snow.

“Yes.” Saint said. “Albeit, in my throat.”

“You sure?”

Saint held up a hand in a sign to wait a moment. He retrieved the pearl from the pouch in his throat with a slight retch motion and some discomfort, then held it out for the Artificer to see.

“Hm.” She grunted.

“Quite the adaptation we have.” Saint remarked. “I’ll hold this from here on.”

“Good.”

The journey continued a bit, the snow rising slowly as the cycle progressed. Eventually a few orange dots appeared through the white haze, then the mounted skull making the toll.

The Artificer took a deep breath as they approached.

“I can do the talking.” Saint assured her.

“No, no.” She sighed. “They won’t let you. Besides, I… I should try.”

Saint nodded, though still held the pearl they reached the toll. A few scavengers already raised weapons against the Artificer.

“Hey, guys…” The Artificer said tentatively. “I’m, uhm, here to-”

“State it plain. Drop your weapons. Identify your friend.” Ordered a heavily armed elite scavenger near the front. “Now.”

“I- I’m not… armed…” She murmured, seeming almost embarrassed. Maybe… ashamed.

“Don’t care. Cough it up.”

She gave a partially annoyed, partially anguished sigh. She hacked up a rock with a cough and held it out for them to see.

“Swallowed this earlier. Specifically for this.” She muttered. “I’d toss it to you, but then someone would kill me, so…” She leaned down and placed the rock on the ground. “There. We need a-”

“Who’s your friend?” Another scavenger interjected, gesturing to the Saint.

“Look, guys, we just need a lantern.” She said, anguish lacing her voice. “He’s got a pearl, that’s double the price.” Saint stepped to her side and held out the shining orb to prove her point.

“Your halfhearted trade attempts haven’t worked before, and they won’t work now.” Jabbed the elite scavenger. “You’re not earning anything.”

“I’m not trying to!” She swore.

“Then why do you keep showing up at our tolls with pearls for no reason?!” They retorted.

Her gaze flickered around, anguish in her eyes. Saint saw one or two scavengers give a puzzled glance to the elite.

“I- I just want us to not hate each other!” She pleaded. “I’ve spent so much time- so much-” Her voice broke. She took a moment to recuperate.

“… Look. This isn’t some…” She took a somewhat shaky breath. “Some gesture of apology. We just need a lantern.”

A scavenger gently elbowed the offending elite and whispered something to him. He turned to face his companion, anger showing in his demeanor.

“I’m not gonna fucking “lay off her”, you idiot!” The elite hissed.

The scavenger retreated, looking displeased, but he was clearly more frightened by the elite’s anger.

Saint perked up, hoping she had heard that. Someone didn’t hate her. But alas, her vision fixed on the floor, even her keen senses could not hear when so entrenched in shame.

“… His name is the Saint.” She said quietly. “He’s a pacifist. He’s vulnerable to the cold. We need a heat source.”

“Oh, look at you, making friends.” The elite sneered. “Finally figured out how to care about anyone but yourself?”

She flinched, shutting her eye for a moment.

“… Give us the lantern, and you get the pearl.” She muttered.

“Like we’d give you shit after-”

“STOP IT!” She screamed, looking up to the scavenger. “I’LL- FUCKING KILL YOU!!”

The elite shrunk back at her rage, grabbing an odd-looking spear tipped in blue from his back. There was a moment of fear at her outburst, though it was clear the Artificer was barely holding herself together. 

Naught but the whistling wind and her anguished breathing filled the air for a moment. The elite’s sneer had melted, dissolved into fearful guardedness.

Saint walked tentatively forward, holding out the pearl.

“Lantern.” He said simply to the elite as he approached.

He glanced around for a moment, unmoving. 

“None of us want this.” Saint reminded him slowly. “Remember what you have to lose.” 

His gaze flickered for just a moment more before he stepped back, fumbled for a lantern and held it out.

Saint met the scavenger. He snatched the pearl from the slugcat’s hands and dropped the lantern.

Saint stared scornfully at him as he stopped to pick it up. Perhaps, in another life, this scavenger might be one he’d try to help. But the scavengers, so intertwined in hierarchies and packs, were never very receptive. And he figured this one might deserve a little payback.

“… Fate will return your cruelty.” He whispered, quiet enough for only the elite to hear.

The elite drew breath, then stopped. He stared at Saint for a moment, confusion seeping into his eyes.

A little trickery of the void, leveraging that voice in the back of the instincts. Saint could feel a sense of discomfort, almost wrongness rising in the elite. 

He let him process a moment more.

He turned on a dime and walked back to the Artificer.

He held the lantern in both hands and showed it to her, then nodded his head to the snow behind them. Her pained gaze flickered from him to the scavengers, then back.

She slowly turned and started away. Saint shot a final glance to the scavengers, bowed his head in somewhat reluctant thanks, then followed.

They walked in silence for a bit, the canyon wall they needed to climb beginning to be obscured by the storm. No scavengers followed.

Saint toiled over what to say, subtly wringing his hands clasped over the warming lantern. 

A question wouldn’t work. A simple conversation starter would seem out of place. But he couldn’t just let her wallow in misery. He had to say something, do something.

Part of him wanted to take her hand in his.

Would that work?

He reached, then recoiled.

It might be better to wait.

A foreign snarl startled Saint, the Artificer perking up and searching for it’s source.

A glint of red.

The Artificer tackled him to the side as she shouted, knocking him out of the way and flinging the lantern from his hands. He tumbled through the drifts and spat snow from his mouth as he steadied.

A red lizard, pouncing from the many sinkholes and gaps in the snow had nearly bitten him in half. The Artificer shot past him with a snarl of her own, stunning the beast with a blast and retreating. She scrambled through the snow for a weapon, debris, anything, but came up short.

Saint scrambled away as the lizard regained its bearings, though there was no universe where he could outrun it. He glanced back to his companion, then stumbled, falling back into the snow.

The Artificer, still unarmed, launched and leaped around the scarlet dragon, scratching and snarling whenever it got close. She couldn’t wrestle it. The snow provided no arms. And unfortunately, this beast was far from dull. It snapped angrily at the Artificer one last time, then turned to Saint.

He was too frazzled to get up, but it wouldn’t have mattered. The lizard bounded towards him.

“NO!” The Artificer shouted, launching towards it. It stumbled as she dug her claws into it’s back, and despite the odds, she began trying to overpower it. She scratched and bit, scrambling around it’s red-quilled form like a rabid gnat. It threw stomps, snaps, nearly bucked her off several times, but she held steadfast. Saint was frozen in mixed fear and awe.

It threw her off its back, onto the ground. It clambered over her, opening its jaws. She threw an upward claw swipe, knocking its mouth closed and scattering red shards of carapace. It roared in anger and stepped back. It tried to crush her with a stomp, she barely moved her head away. She fired a blast, stunning it again and eliciting a snarl of pain. It moved to stomp again as she recuperated from the burst. 

She shouted in pain as the lizard stamped onto her, a blast ringing out involuntarily from some malfunction in her systems. She tumbled into the snow and stumbled to a stop, clutching her chest and breathing heavy.

The lizard was tired of fighting. It wanted a meal. It turned its viscous gaze back to the Saint.

It was charging him.

“SAINT!” The Artificer yelled, shaking snow from herself.

It snarled and snapped in threat as Saint tried and failed to stumble to his feet.

She bounded towards them, too far to reach.

The scarlet death was upon him.

“SAINT!”

It opened it’s jaws.

Time seemed to slow.

The Saint had a choice to make.

Let death take him. Let their cycle start anew, allow the same rules that apply to all living things apply to him, as they always did. He always let that happen.

That would deprive the Artificer of them.

That would deprive them of the Artificer.

The Saint raised their hand.

A sort of pang, mixed with an explosive blast. Unseen, not unheard.

The red lizard collapsed atop him, lifeless.

“SAINT!” The Artificer screamed in horror. She raced to his side and threw the corpse’s upper half off of him.

“Saint! Sh-shit, what happened-?!”

Her voice cut off.

Saint was unwounded. No blood touched the snow.

Nothing but an expression full of horror.

“… S- Saint?” She asked, her voice breaking.

“No.” He muttered. “No, no, no, no…” 

He wriggled out from under the sacrifice, realization carving through his veins like a poison.

“No, no, don’t…” He muttered, feeling around the lizard's neck for a pulse. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he was in denial, but he could not help himself. “No, little one, I-”

He felt it.

That emptiness, carved out by his own hand.

He could taste the blood he’d spilt in the air. Floating away and slowly dissipating.

He bowed his head in sorrow, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“How- how did you…?” The Artificer stuttered.

“Just… give me a moment.”

He felt the last traces of the lizard's soul disappear.

He leaned down and rested his head against the corpse.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “May it… May it all fade.”

He held for a moment more, feeling the Artificer’s gaze burn a hole in his back.

He sat up, kneeling beside it, and took a shaky breath.

“… Saint.” The Artificer said, suspicion creeping into her voice. “What the fuck did you do?”

“… I suppose I have some explaining to do.” Saint murmured.

“Yeah, you do!” She yelled. “What the fuck was that?!”

He stood up.

“… Can we at least get to safety…?” He began to ask.

“Oh, hell fucking no.” She denied, stepping forward. “Explain. Now.”

He winced at her interruption, turning slightly away. He didn’t feel he deserved any better. This was always how it went, though no amount of experience made him hate it less.

“… Are you familiar with the concept of “ascension”?”

She stepped back a bit, surprised. He knew that was a yes, but he waited nonetheless.

“… Yeah.” She said hesitantly.

“What about “the cycle”?”

She could not find the words.

“… Let’s get to a shelter.” Saint said, a little sadly.

Saint retrieved the lantern, stored it in his stomach, and they crawled back into the caves. Artificer gave Saint several suspicious glances as they traveled. Saint made a motion to press the locking mechanism once they found a shelter, but she grabbed his wrist and yanked him away. He gave her a depressed look and sat down with a regretful sigh. Artificer stayed standing.

“… Artificer, before I start, I just want to say…” Saint said. “I do care about you. You-”

“Cut the shit.” She interrupted. “Get to it.”

“… Okay.” He conceded.

He took a deep breath.

“… You know of ascension, right? From the cycle?”

She stared a moment, then nodded slowly.

“… That lizard will… not wake up again.” He managed, the thought paining him. “I… ascended him. It is an… ability of mine. It works on any type of sentience, and uses a mixture of the void fluid in my blood and karmic manipulation to break their cycle.” The words tasted horrible in his mouth.

The Artificer was silent.

“… I cannot prove it well.” Saint admitted. “But…” He raised his hand, palm up. The sacred symbol, glowing golden and pulsating slightly, appeared as a sort of crosshair of his hand. The x within the circle. “… That lizard is gone. It is up to your whether or not to… trust me.”

She stared at him for another moment.

“… What the fuck are you?” She snarled.

Saint winced at her growl, then took another breath.

“… The cycle, or the void, or karma, or some other system unknown to me… has a want. For civilizations to rise and fall, to cycle throughout the cycle.” Saint said with some strain. “Rise, ascend, disappear, repeat. For nature to rise, turn to industry, turn to religion, turn to nothing, and be reclaimed by nature.”

“I said cut the shit.” She snapped, stepping towards him. “I don’t want your poetry, I want fucking answers.”

“I’m sorry, Artificer, but this is the only way I can explain.” He said. 

She stared a moment, then stepped back with a scoff, leaning angrily against the wall. 

“… Some civilizations leave marks too deep.” Saint continued after a moment. “Such as the iterators. They cannot ascend, and disrupt the cycle of nature becoming artificial becoming nature. At least… to the cycle, they do. I disagree, but that is-”

”I don’t want an essay, get to the fucking point!” The Artificer yelled.

”Arti, please, I just-!” 

“DON’T fucking call me that.” She snapped.

A piece of Saint’s heart broke.

He stared at her for a moment, feeling the beginnings of tears try to create themselves behind his eyes.

He looked to the floor and took a shaky breath.

“… I- I’m sorry. I hoped to explain parts of my perspective, but I… I understand your mistrust…” Saint’s voice nearly broke.

She stared disdainfully and said nothing.

Saint took another uncertain breath, struggling to stay composed. The guilt from inside and the hate from the Artificer ran through his blood like a poison, flowing in tandem with the void inside his veins.

“… I am responsible for ascending beings like them.” Saint managed. “I simply… came to be one be one day. I’m a sort of supernatural entity.”

The Artificer took a very deep, angry breath, closing her eye.

“… What the hell do you want with me?” She hissed.

He stared sadly at the ground for a moment.

“… I want to help you.” He said in a small voice.

“Yeah, fucking right.” She denied. “You’re some kind of fucking god, not happening.”

The word stung like a knife’s blade across his skin.

“… I’ve lived a very long time, Artificer.” He said quietly, looking still to the ground. “And I think… the best I can do with my… status… is to help. That is… all I can offer you.”

She was silent. Saint steeled himself for what she might say.

“… Get out.” She muttered.

Saint flinched. “W- wait, Artificer-”

“Get. Out.” She growled. 

He moved to speak, but his voice failed.

He thought for a moment, struggling past the pains. A tear made itself known behind his eyelid.

Saint took a deep breath.

He solemnly stood, wiped his eye, and moved to the door. He felt her uncertain gaze on his back.

He was outside.

He glanced back to find the Artificer staring at him, something different from the scorn in her eyes.

Then she snarled as she slammed the button by the door, and the locks obscured her face.

Muffled screams of fury rang in his ears as he left to find another shelter.

The Artificer clawed and scratched at the walls, screaming in furious rage.

The fire in her heart burned too great to think. That bastard, he’d lied to her. He never actually cared about her. It was all nothing. Some smug god toying with her. She tore at the shelter until its walls were covered in more scars than she was.

Her claws began to feel dull and sore. So she punched, kicked, bit, spat, mauled the very space she inhabited. Tears began to fall. It wasn’t fair. None of it. 

Her strikes weakened. Still she snarled and bit, carving at the walls that trapped her as tears streamed from her eye. She gasped for air as she roared in anguish, crying out in great sobs with each haphazard slash. Her hands felt jolts of agony carve through them with each strike. She felt like she was on fire.

Her eye burned. Her soul burned. She burned.

Until she collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.

She’d ruined it. She’d never find someone like him again, not in a thousand lives. An ancient benevolent deity, one who only wished to help her, and she’d managed to scare him off. She truly was the most wretched, horrible thing to ever exist.

He always knew what would help her best, when to push and to pull and when to still. His fur was like silk that rooted her mind in the storm, his voice a gasp of air in the river of fire she was drowning in. He’d nearly pulled her from the cliffside of hate she’d built inside her heart, and she’d bitten his hand.

She pulled herself to a stand and battered at the locked door, sobbing and begging. 

“S- S- Saint!” She gasped, barely able to find the breath. “P-please, I- I’m sorry…!” 

She lost the will to fight and collapsed once more.

She cried and cried and cried until her scar burned like the day it appeared. She shook with sobs of grief long hidden, her ribs feeling like they might collapse from the weight of it all. Her stomach wrenched with pain, her lungs seemed to burn with grief. She clutched her stomach as she laid sobbing, the horrible guilt wracking her with choking agony.

Sobs turned to weeping as she ran out of tears to cry. It was too much to bear alone. She coughed and gasped for air on the ground, trying desperately to retain any sense of realness. 

Her breathing slowed, though the knife in her heart stayed. She writhed as she tried to find breath, still choking on the poison she spewed. 

And then, she was lying on the ground, softly weeping. Like she had been before.

She closed her eye.

She awoke with yet another burden upon her shoulders.

Her heart heavy with a new guilt and grief, she struggled to her feet. She felt so horribly cold. Like the night she’d lost them. Like the day she’d killed him. Like the day he fell.

She crawled miserably to the shelter door and pushed herself to a stand. Through the constricted exit, out into the snow, the heat emanating from her body slightly melting the drifts of soft ice beneath her feet.

Nothing. Emptiness. Alone in the cold caverns, forevermore. Another layer of hell, placed by her own hand.

She sat down in the slight layer of snow and held her head in her hands, unable to find the will to move on. No way to cope, no comfort to be found. 

She sat like that for a while.

On a whim, she looked up.

Saint was standing there.

Chapter Text

The chill across her skin doubled at the sight. Comfort, so close, yet so very far. His fur waved slightly in the whistling morning wind.

She stared, unsure what to do.

“… Hello, Artificer.” He said hesitantly. “… I’m sorry.”

His voice flowed through her like a river, washing through her conflicted consciousness and purging the contradictions. It left her with one thought, repeatedly pinging in her head. 

Hellfire, please, let him get closer. Let her hear his voice better over the wind, let her feel his fur brush against her.

“… I… suppose that’s what I have to say. I’m… I’m sorry.” He repeated solemnly. “I… can’t imagine what I’ve put you through.” 

Good god, shut the fuck up. Please, just sit down. Who- Somebody fucking say something! 

She stayed still, a somewhat puzzled, somewhat pained expression lingering on his face.

He seemed to examine her for a moment. 

He took a step forward, looking to her in silent question. She did not object. 

Saint reached her side and sat down in the snow next to her, his back to the wall. His fur brushed her shoulder, making her skin tingle.

She stared at the small space between them, too conflicted to meet his gaze. She heard him readjust his seat. 

Saint hugged her.

She twitched a little at the touch, causing him to briefly pause. Then he fully wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder. 

Her mind would not let her return it. Nonetheless, she leaned her head slightly to rest atop his. 

He was so soft. So warm, so close, so caring. She wanted so dearly to bury her face into his shoulder, return the hug and breathe in the comfort she hadn’t felt in hundreds of cycles. 

But still, she couldn’t bring herself to hold him in return. 

“I won’t hurt you, Artificer.” Saint said quietly. “You’ve been scarred enough.”

The way his voice cloaked her in care, the sorrow tinging its edges, it… it made her believe him. 

This… ancient deity, this being beyond creation that could shatter souls with a thought… cared about her. 

What did that mean to her?

What did that mean… about her? 

So many thoughts filled her head. So many conflicts, so many contradictions. Emotion began to rise in her. The desire to bury herself in his embrace escalated with it. It was too much. 

She pulled away. 

Saint allowed her to make some space between them, though the need to be closer to him had already returned. She silently wished she hadn’t moved so far.

“… Would you like me to continue guiding you to him?” He asked gently. 

She took a moment to conjure her voice. 

“…yeah.” 

The two started back out onto the flats, the canyon wall beginning to loom over them. Saint walked alongside his companion, his mind irritatingly still and empty of solution. What could he do to mend the rift?

They were so close, and yet so far. It was clear that part of the Artificer wanted his company, at least, perhaps his help. But other parts seemed to shrink back, recoil from any kind of joy. Like she thought she didn’t deserve it. And still, before that was a fear that this might all fall apart after some sort of reveal of her past.

The way she stared at the snow as they walked, the confused storm of emotion in her single eye. It caused a subtle ache in his chest.

They reached the canyon wall, a mound of broken, rusted metal and jagged outcroppings.

The climb up the wall was the most arduous by far. Not by difficulty or obstacles, but by sheer scale. The canyon wall stretched high enough to dissolve into the storm’s white haze, a steep slope stretching into the sky. The ground was of detached metal, piled scrap, and gravel, making it possible to find one’s footing, but never to relax. Saint’s tongue was too imprecise, the Artificer’s claws and blasts too damaging. They were forced to slowly crawl up the slope, helping each other past outcroppings or catching them when they should fall.

Each step was uncertain, each movement threatening to pull a sheet of metal from it’s place and leave it tumbling into the white abyss. Each disconnection could result in small-scale avalanches of rock and steel detaching from the wall. The threat of fall never left as they ascended. But slowly, methodically, they made their way up the slope.

Saint feared for what might happen when they reached Five Pebbles. The Artificer was far from okay at the moment. A miasma of conflict seem to hang over her, 

What would happen if the dam broke? If her walls shattered when confronted with the corpse, or void forbid, the barely-sentient remains of Pebbles’ puppet, what would come next? How would she cope with so much emotion, so many things to hide?

Saint’s foot slipped, pulling him from his thoughts. 

He began to fall.

The Artificer grabbed his wrist and caught him, sinking her claws into the slope with her other hand. He heard metal bend, but nothing broke.

The Saint stared up into her eyes, wondering what could possibly be happening behind them.

“I gotcha…” She grunted, beginning to pull him up. With her help, he clambered back up onto a less steep slope to catch his breath.

“… Thank you, Artificer.” He said after a moment.

She turned away, his voice seeming to bring her a sort of pain.

The climb continued, the slope fading into an overhang too steep for the Artificer to jump past. They were forced into an array of pipes, the remains of whatever internal tunnels survived the collapsed left isolated and empty, buried in a cliff face too high up to sustain life. The detachment of their friendship still hung heavy in the air.

They clambered up a ledge and out of the pipes, into a more open room. Saint examined his surroundings.

The room was the remains of a karma gate. They had crawled from the pipes that once held its flowing water, the grates caved in from the collapse. The middle gate was caved in, bent, the larger locks warped by it’s fall from the slot and the smaller ones left scattered in the metal around.

The Artificer stood, still as stone, staring through it.

Saint walked to her side and waited patiently, glancing at her a bit sadly.

“… This was the… gate to his city.” She murmured.

A lifetime of violence, shining in her eye.

This was where she lived.

Though… Saint wasn’t sure if she thought of it as living.

She turned her gaze to the collapsed grate, the hole they crawled from. Indignant sorrow seeped into her expression.

She turned away, staring towards the room’s exit.

Soon, they reached the top. Walking slowly across the snow-covered expanse, wind blowing quietly and coldly from so high up.

Saint’s goal was near. He could feel it.

Five Pebbles’ cycle was coming to an end.

He didn’t want to keep lying to her.

“… You heard me compare the iterators to those I must ascend, correct?” He asked through the whistling wind.

She stared straight ahead, silent.

“… You have inferred, I imagine-?”

“Shut up.” She interrupted. “Just- please, shut up.”

Her expression was still cold as she turned to him, but he could see desperation in her eyes. Pleading.

”Please.” She pleaded. “Don’t.” 

Saint had stepped back and frozen in surprise, rather confused. 

She didn’t want to think of it. She didn’t want to break their bonds, have the looming threat to the iterator Saint posed drive them apart. Not now. 

She just wanted him there. 

She needed him there.

Saint nodded. 

They continued across the roof. Saint walked a little closer by her side.

They reached a tunnel, then a cliff. Then a collapsed hallway, then another. The Artificer gazed around the environment in devastated anticipation, a place she knew so well distorted and destroyed. Through a broken wall, through a sloping tunnel, drop from a damaged access shaft…

They landed in a room open to the air; his chamber broken in half.

A haunting, out of tune, distorted melody filled the air. Frequently interrupted by static buzzing and silence. Emanating from behind a mound of scrap.

The Artificer stayed frozen in horror, knelt low in instinct.

She bounded upward, the broken, dissonant, song ringing in Saint’s ears. He followed quickly behind, fearing the worst.

She crested the hill. With a small clink, the melody ceased.

And there he sat.

Atop a small lump of scrap metal was the puppet of Five Pebbles. Staring up at them with wide, confused eyes emitting a dim, flickering glow.

The one functioning antenna he had waved in the wind along with a tattered cloak barely held around his shoulders. A pile of bleached pearls lay in a divot by his feet. The wires in his head stretched out and into nothingness, the copper internals exposed and laid bare. The multi-jointed arm stretching from his back lay broken and desecrated behind him, some joints limp and the whole thing dotted with scratches. The four dots on his head were barely visible, his pink skin bleached pale.

“… P- Pebbles, I…” The artificer stammered.

He stared back at her, his eyes empty and dull. He said nothing.

The Artificer bounded down the hill and perched her front legs on his lap, her face obscured from Saint’s view.

“N-no, it’s…” She stammered. Saint moved quietly down and sat in the divot of pearls.

“It- it’s me… remember…?” She whimpered. “Arti…”

Still, she revived nothing but that emptiness.

“I’m… your little ruffian…” She whispered.

Pebbles stared a moment more.

“… Big… r-re-d thing… -ing…” He buzzed, his voice stuttered, digitized and broken. “… Hell-hello…” 

The Artificer stared into the dead god's eyes for just a moment more.

She buried her head in Five Pebbles lap and sobbed.

It was a horrible sound. Great, gasping heaves that wracked her form with shakes. She choked and gurgled and blubbered into his lap, tears soaking his already ruined cloak. She raised her head and howled in a sob of gut-wrenching grief, then collapsed once more, clutching her stomach.

“P-P- Pebbles…” She managed, gasping for air with each stutter. “I’m- I- I…” She collapsed back into choking sobs.

Saint walked forward and nestled himself underneath Pebbles’ left arm, laying down at their side. Artificer continued to howl, holding her stomach like she had been stabbed. Her tears were of grief recent and old, scars shallow and deep. Uncontrollable, devastating, bone-deep grief.

She cried and cried and cried.

Five Pebbles placed his hand atop her head.

“… Don’t… cr-cry.” He stuttered. “It-it is… okay-ay…”

She brought her miserable visage up, tears soaking her front and welled up around her scarred eye, her breathing ragged and choked.

“L- Little… ruffian…”

It wasn’t clear if Pebbles knew what he was saying. He could’ve just been trying to calm her with the name she mentioned, no miracle of memory at work.

She stared at him for a little bit, tears still streaming from her eye.

“… Y- yeah…” She managed, wiping her nose. “That’s me…”

She leaned back down into his lap and softly wept for a bit more. Saint could tell this was the most catharsis she’d felt in… ever, maybe.

Some time passed. Saint thanked fate his chamber was shielded from the wind somewhat as it howled ever louder in the back of his mind.

“… Th- Thank you… for… warmth-warmth.” Five Pebbles stuttered. “Little… fr-friends.”

Saint gently nuzzled Pebbles’ side in response. Pebbles’ gave him a stiff pat on the head, barely able to move his arm.

The Artificer looked up again, staring into those dull, white eyes. 

She took a shaky breath.

“… I’m sorry, Pebbles.” She whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He stared with that same blank expression. She hung her head in sorrow, wiping her nose again.

She hugged the broken puppet, seemingly to his surprise.

After a moment, he stiffly returned it.

“… V-Very… warm- warm….” He noted.

She squeezed him tight, held a moment longer, then stepped back.

“… Yeah. You’re…” She took another shaky breath. “You’re welcome, buddy.”

She stepped away and took a very deep breath, closing her eye.

Saint was almost proud of her. A weight seemed to be lifted from her shoulders.

She opened her eye.

“…You can… do your thing.” She said quietly, glancing at Saint as she stared at the ground.

He in turn stepped away from Pebbles and stood.

She already knew. Saint had figured.

“It will be a touch discomforting.” The Saint said, stepping off the mound towards her. “You may avert your eyes, or you may look. Whichever you prefer.”

She nodded. The Saint took a deep breath and turned back to Five Pebbles.

He knelt down and looked into his empty eyes.

“I’m sorry, my friend.” They said quietly. “Please, don’t be afraid. You… you’ll see them again.”

It wasn’t clear if Pebbles knew what they meant. The Saint sighed and stood up.

The Saint opened their eyes.

They stepped forward and placed a hand upon the decayed god’s forehead.

They breathed in.

All sound seemed to suck inward, the air itself concentrating at the palm of their hand.

For just a moment, the wind was silent.

The world was silent.

PANG

Five Pebbles collapsed into the snow.

After a moment, the Saint turned to look back at their companion.

A bright white glow faded and rose from their eyes, occasionally obscuring two different colors. One golden yellow, one an ocean blue. Each with an x through both, the center serving as a pupil.

They were beautiful.

The Saint shut his eyes.

He walked over to her as she stood frozen in a sort of awe. He paused for a moment, seeming to consider something.

“…Forgive the intrusion, but…” He said softly as he reached out his hand, his voice warm and comforting.

He cupped her left cheek and brushed her scarred eye’s lid with his thumb, gently tugging at the seams of her karmic essence. Her eye opened just the slightest bit, enough to let her collected tears fall and cease burning the irritated skin. Then it shut once more.

Her hand drifted to her scarred eye, feeling the tears now streaming down her left cheek. 

She looked to Saint for a moment. 

Her hand fell to her side. 

“… thanks.” She said quietly. 

Saint nodded. 

“… Let’s go.” She murmured.

She turned away and started backwards, towards a shelter they’d seen along the rooftop expanse.

They returned together. Saint took a moment sitting in the entrance tunnel, looking at her in silent question. She waved a hand in indifference and allowed him to come in, the shelters locks closing shortly after.

“Goodnight, Artificer.” Saint said, a little somberly.

She was already curled up, turned away, eye closed. She said nothing.

Saint sighed sadly and laid his head down in his paws.

He stared at the wall for a little bit.

…

A touch near his midsection startled him slightly.

The Artificer had stood up, walked over and laid down next to him, pressing her side to his. As he turned to her, surprised, she then took his tail and pulled it inward, so she was semi-wrapped in his embrace. She curled up as she usually did, one claw placed onto his fur.  Without a glance, she shut her eye once more, her expression fitful and anticipatory.

Saint stared down at her for a moment.

He drew breath, then thought better of it.

He said nothing.

Slowly, her expression faded into content and comfort.

She fell asleep.

Saint moved a little closer to her, further submerging her in his fluff. Her expression was so vastly different from the usual when she slept. So content, so relaxed. Saint wondered if she ever slept like this alone.

Once the cinders of rage and anguish, now the sparks of hope and heart when wrapped in his embrace.

She was rather pretty.

…

Oh.

Oh, that… that makes more sense.

With her?

With her.

Saint took a deep breath, purging the days anxieties and griefs with a quiet sigh.

He laid down, closing his mind and allowing that mixture of content, hope, and yearning flow through him.

What a wonderful feeling this was. He hadn’t felt it in so long.

He stifled a giggle at the sheer irony and drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

Saint woke up.

The Artificer was not there.

He gently shook the fog of unconsciousness from his mind, looking across the shelter.

She was not standing there.

She was gone.

Saint stood urgently, noticing the already open shelter door.

“Artificer?” He said loudly. He received no response.

He darted out into the morning snowfall.

“Artificer?!” He yelled.

Nothing.

He raced across the expanse, back towards Five Pebbles’ chamber. Through the tunnels, into the chamber, atop the mound. Nothing. Not even the god’s body remained, the puppet and the arm connecting it to the wall faded into nothing.

He swung himself back up the tunnels, back to the roof. He raced across the expanse, his lungs beginning to burn from his sprinting. He continued to call out her name to no avail.

He looked desperately around the expanse, searching for any glint of red. His ears stood straight up, searching for foreign footsteps or her blasts. With each rushed bound towards the edge his heart raced further, though not from the running.

He reached the broken gate, frantically checking any surrounding tunnels or other exits to the rooftop. When those ran dry, he moved out too the edge of the can.

Nothing.

Just the empty canyon and the whistling wind.

He sat down, staring across the void in shock.

What could he do?

He was no tracker. She had so many places to go, he… how would he ever find her?

She couldn’t just be… gone.

But she was.

Saint’s heart felt very empty.

He felt so… lonely.

Saint descended the wall, the gloom and depression still lingering in his mind. He remembered the place where she’d caught him from a fall, feeling an ache in his chest grow. He shook it away and moved the rest of the way down.

He didn’t want to give up on her. He wasn’t about to drop it and head straight to his next goal, but… he struggled to find the will. He trudged sadly through the flats, halfheartedly wondering where she might go.

He just had to… walk. 

He did for a while.

A small pack of scavengers moved out into the flats, not far from his vision. Four of them, the lead carrying a lantern. The leader’s slight layer of fur was a maroon color, his horns a duller black. The parallel made Saint rather annoyed with fate.

“Excuse me?” Saint said as he trotted up to them. The maroon leader gave him a glance, then did a double-take.

“… You’re the slug that’s with… her.” He remarked.

Saint gave a small sigh, saddened slightly.

“… Yes, I am.” He admitted. “Have you seen her recently?”

He stared mistrustfully for a moment.

“…We’re alive. That not enough of an answer?” The leader said offhandedly.

“… No.” Saint said.

“No. We haven’t.”

A moment of annoyed silence.

“… She tries not to harm you, you know.” Saint reminded him.

“Mmhm.” They murmured, unconvinced. “Were you off watching snowflakes when she put a spear through one of our elite’s throat?”

“I said tries, first off.” Saint retorted firmly. “Second, do you ever wonder if your cruelty is the reason she did so?”

“Cruelty. Funny.” The scavenger muttered. “She deserves it.”

“I’d disagree, but for your sake, why?” He questioned. “If she is so deadly to you all, why do you provoke her?”

“Piss off, fuzzy.” He rebuffed. “I could take her.”

Before Saint could retort, another voice chimed in.

“Good joke.” Another scavenger behind the leader remarked. 

“…You defending the rat?”  The leader questioned, turning back to him.

”You’re the one who lied to his face.” 

“He’s friends with her!” 

“He’s right.” The rebel refuted. His fur was snow-white, with quills tipped in icy blue. “We’ve been bleeding fighters every time she shows up at a toll.”

“That’s cause she fucking kills them, idiot!” The crimson one hissed.

“Then why does she end up on the other side of the toll and only kill one guy?!” The snowy one yelled back. “Because someone follows her and tries to fight and then dies!”

“Are you fucking defending her?!” The leader shouted.

“I’m tired of losing people to her!” The snowy one shouted back. “Because leaders like you think we should still be fighting her!”

“Hey!” Saint yelled, bringing their gazes to him.

“… Infighting will only worsen your relations.” He reminded them. “If you have things to tell me, it’s in your best interest. If anything, it will keep her off your backs.”

The scavengers glared at each other for a moment.

“The slugs’ got a point, dipshit.” The snowy scavenger muttered, gesturing at the maroon one with his spear. He turned back to Saint. “She hasn’t passed any of our tolls. We’ve got an array down that way, so she’s on this side of the can.”

Saint bowed his head in thanks. “Thank you dearly, my friend. Your kindness is greatly appreciated.” Saint began to turn away.

“… Hey.” The snow’s voice said, causing him to turn back.

“… Keep helping her out.” He suggested, something like sympathy in his voice. “She could use someone like you. Maybe she’ll stop killing us.”

Saint nodded.

“I promise.” Saint said gently. “I’m glad this existence is blessed with those like you.”

The scavenger nodded. He turned and started away, the pack moving to his side. As Saint started off, he could hear further conversation from them.

“Helping the fucking devil herself...”

“Shut up. With what we did to her, I’m not sure what I’d do differently.”

“S’cause you weren’t fucking there….”

“And you’re not a…”

They left Saint’s earshot, leaving him with just the wind.

There wasn’t much else to go in the direction away from the tolls. The canyon wall, then the internals, which were mostly collapsed entirely. What wasn’t fallen was half-filled with the miros birds, roaming the long halls. But beyond the canyon and the puppet chamber, the only standing leg jutted out in the icy wind. Being a point of interest and rather high up, he figured it would be the best option.

He kept replaying the scavenger's words in his mind. With the way they treated the Artificer, the way they spoke of her like some force of nature, it was clear she’d killed… a lot of them. But he’d never really thought about… why.

He assumed she had a reason. And even if she didn’t, if she was just a sadist who killed for the sake of it, he’d still help her. Because she wasn’t anymore. That’s what mattered. And besides, she wouldn’t gain such a reputation through random slaughter. She carried the guilt that only comes from hate.

So… why?

What happened to her? What drove her to such violence?

It didn’t exactly give him hope. Not for her, nor his chances of finding her.

From above, the sounds of a miros bird’s pounding feet shook dust and rubble ceiling and drove him from his musing. He gave a sigh and kept onward, towards the leg.

Eventually he surfaced in open air, the caverns and canyon behind him. He clambered out onto a mound of steel and found himself at a lake.

The wind howled across a large expanse of icy water, the base of the leg at the other end. The spire itself stretched into the white haze of the sky, metallic poles bending against the wind.

He would have to swim.

The water was cold as ice, burning him as he placed a tentative foot into the water. Moving in slowly was both a waste of time and unhelpful against the cold, but a dive could very well shock him into drowning.

He retrained the lantern from his stomach, remembering the Artificer who helped him attain it. The loneliness continued seeping into his mind.

He took a deep breath, clutched the lantern close to his chest, and dove.

He gasped as he splashed into the lake, the cold stabbing into him like knives. He regained his bearings and swam, clutching the warming rock as tight as he could.

Weakness infiltrated his form as fear infiltrated his mind. He swam and swam, ice running through his veins. Conjuring up that void again.

His subconscious pleaded for warmth of any kind. He thought of the Artificer, the gentle heat she emitted. Of the idea that she might simply not be here, that… that he might not see her again.

He was alone, swimming through the void.

Slowly disintegrating.

Alone.

He clambered atop the ledge with a gasp of exhaustion, pulling himself from the lake with urgency. Shivering, he stumbled to his feet with the lantern still held tight and bounded inward.

He collapsed once he reached the internals, his legs too weak and cold. He shivered on the floor for a moment, clutching the weak source of heat in his shaking, snow-white hands.

Saint hated the cold.

The void was cold.

The void was lonely.

He struggled to his feet, trembling with emotion and temperature alike.

He managed slowly upward with his tongue, retreating from the wind and cold. The loneliness still plagued him. The emptiness.

He couldn’t shake the void from his mind. He could see it, feel it, feel the worms slamming through the sea and tossing him around like a meaningless object.

The day he’d rebelled, been torn apart at the seams, only to find this was in fate’s design as well. 

The day he’d found just how alone he was.

Then… something changed.

The air was… different. 

Golden flakes drifted downward in the edges of his vision.

An echo was nearby.

Curiosity drifted into him, worming into the doubt and pain. He crawled up with a touch more efficiency, the space taking on a blue tint as an ethereal radiance began to pulsate in the air.

The natural abundance of essence in the air flowed through his veins. Before long, he was warm again. And while the loneliness wasn’t gone, he felt hope struggling against it.

The golden flakes fell more rapidly till the whole structure seemed to fill with them, the sheddings of a soul rapidly forming and fading. An almost musical sound began to play in his ears as he ascended further upward.

To the peak of the strut, into the jagged caverns left behind by the collapsing metal. Through the meanders, out into another climb, anticipation rising. Through another tunnel, out to the proper end of the broken leg…

And there it was. Floating in the air, the strange, tendril-like formation once making it’s head looking around listlessly. The golden flakes flickering and shimmering across it’s melting, black form as fins stretched out, waved in the wind and fell away.

But past the ethereal ringing, a different sound played.

At the ledge of the void the echo floated above was the Artificer. Knelt on the ground, softly weeping.

A part of him gave a relieved sigh, yearning to embrace her. For a reality where she might embrace him.

He shook his head and took a deep breath.

He had what he needed. But now, she needed him.

He steeled himself, and stepped out into the snow.

“… Hm. A little attuned one.” The ghost radiated out in a voice that distorted time and sense. “Come to join me with the weeping wretch. At least you are aware of the tides you flow through.”

Something about their statement gave him pause.

Could she not see them?

The pieces fell together in his head.

“…Don’t call her that, please.” Saint requested as he approached.

The echo paused in what seemed like awe.

Fair enough, considering most slugcats were rather unlikely to talk back to them.

“… You are not what you seem.” The echo noted. “… My, perhaps little ‘twas not the term.”

“You imply you are invisible to her, correct?” Saint asked, stopping a bit behind the Artificer and keeping his voice quiet. Through the distortions of the echo and the grief she was entrenched in, she was left unaware of his presence.

“… Yes. The beast has been blubbering at my feet for quite some time.” They confirmed. “But how could one such as you give any thought to such a wretch?”

“I’m afraid what ties you is still present in your manner.” Saint said, a little annoyed with the reverence. “Odd how you think yourself above the unchained.”

“Pah!” They scoffed. “She is further chained then I!” 

Saint gave a small, annoyed sigh.“… But her chains are not eternal. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He pushed the echo from his mind with some difficulty, manipulating the karmic force flowing through him. The blue haze faded, the echo’s melting form beginning to dissipate. He heard it’s now muffled voice say something before it left his consciousness in full.

He was left standing behind the Artificer, listening to the sound of her weeping.

“… Artificer?”

She gasped and turned back, tears in her eyes and fear in her posture.

She relaxed, though her sadness didn’t lessen.

She silently turned back away, returning to her place knelt miserably on the scrap covered ledge.

Saint moved to her and sat down by her side, sweeping his tail into his lap.

“… What harms you?” He asked softly.

“…go away.” She mumbled, wiping her eyes.

“You can’t suffer this alone, Artificer.”

“You- you- no. Just- just leave me alone…” She laid down and rested her head on her arms, hiding her face. “This is your fault…”

Saint couldn’t deny that hurt a little bit.

“You killed him. You- you helped me, and you’re so fucken… nice…” She mumbled.

That, however, gave him some pause.

“… I don’t quite follow.”

“… It hurts. It hurts so much….” She said, her voice breaking. “Pebbles, the… scavengers… I-I can’t…”

He scooted a little closer to her.

“You are grieving.” He stated softly.

“I don’t fucking want to be.” She muttered.

“I’m sorry, Artificer, but that isn’t an option.”

“Fuck off!” She yelled, sitting up to look at him. “I was fine before you showed up! Its your fault, all of it!”

“You know that isn’t true.”

“I-I-!” She shook her head with an anguished scoff and hid her head in her hands, moving from a kneel to a seat.

Saint gave a small sigh.

“…I know it hurts.” He assured her. “More than even I could truly understand without being in the moment with you. But… you need to feel it.”

She was silent.

“I’m here for you, Artificer. You need to feel.” 

She was nearly trembling with effort to keep herself together.

She began to cry once more. 

Saint sat by her side for a bit.

“… What harms you?” Saint repeated.

“… I- I… I can’t see him…” She wept softly. “I know he’s here and I…!” Her voice broke.  

Saint gazed at her sadly, tilting his head a bit. “… You can sense them?”

“Yes…” She mumbled through her hands. “They… They hurt. But nothing I do lets me see them.”

Saint nodded sadly. He looked back up to where the echo would be, had it been allowed into his mind.

“… Don’t you get it, Saint?!” She said suddenly, turning to him. “This is why! This-!” She paused to sniffle. “I- I’m not- I’m stuck! I can’t change!” She placed her head back into her hands.

He scooted a little closer to her. “Artificer, that is not true.”

“Yes, it is, Saint…” She bemoaned. “I’ve tried. Nothing works, not since…” Her voice broke.

He moved to place his hand in hers. She recoiled, scooting away and turning angrily back to him.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” She spat, clasping her hand as if his touch had burned her. “Are you stupid?! Don’t you understand?!”

“Artificer, please-”

“I’m a fucking sin, Saint!” She yelled. “I’m stuck! I killed so many fucking scavengers that I locked myself out of those- fucking gates, and then I killed- I- I made it worse! And now I can’t even see these- stupid idiots to help! Pebbles couldn’t help!”

She paused to cough, choking on the poison long kept hidden in her throat.

“And- and you’re- you’re you!” She gasped, her voice beginning to become raspy and breathless. “You’re some- ancient god so connected to karma you can blow shit up with it!”

“Artificer, that doesn’t-”

“YOU SHOULD HATE ME!” She screamed. “YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE, JUST LIKE EVERYONE-!” 

He hugged her.

She twitched slightly in his embrace, startled.

He held her there for a moment, feeling the dull heat that emanated from her scars. Then he squeezed her very tight, allowing her to breathe the moment in and feel his fur against her coarse skin.

He retreated, knelt in front of her.

“I’m not leaving, Artificer.” He reminded her gently. “I don’t hate you. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think I ever will.”

Her gaze flickered around; her hand that had been absentmindedly raised to tentatively feel his fur drifting to her side. The anger and the pain slowly seeped out of her form as she slumped from the kneel she had taken in fury. She opened her mouth to speak, but failed to conjure the words.

“I think you want to change.” He said softly. “That’s the important part.”

She did not meet his gaze.

“… Would you like another hug?”

…

“… No.” She lied. “… It- what does it matter? I… I can’t.”

Saint thought for a moment. 

“… Do you mind if I show you a little magic trick?” Saint asked.

She stared at him for a moment, dejected.

“… Fine.”

Saint turned and crossed his legs as if to meditate, letting the void flow through him. He began to concentrate, seeing in his minds eye the glow appearing on the ground in front of him.

With the ambient energy of the echo, the process was not difficult. He broke from his meditation to find a karma flower at his feet, stemming from the scrap and broken rock. The Artificer stared at the flower in a slight awe.

Saint plucked the flower delicately from the scrap and twirled it lightly between his fingers for a moment, the golden energy glimmering through the snow.

He held it towards her, causing her to recoil slightly.

“If you will, take a few bites of this.” He requested politely. “It may taste off, but please, humor me.”

“… N- No, I… actually kind of like these…” She murmured, sitting back down and taking the flower from his grasp.

He tilted his head. “Have you perhaps ever stumbled across one and eaten it?”

“… No.” She said quietly. “I… don’t eat them.”

Saint could only imagine what might motivate that.

“… Well, if you don’t mind.” He said gently.

She considered the plant for a moment, it’s petal structure drooping onto her hand as she held it.

She held it to her mouth and took a tentative bite, pulling the circular structure of petals off and leaving just a stem of glowing light.

Saint plucked it from her grasp and allowed it to dissolve, then looking to her eye as she finished chewing the essence.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Her gaze flickered around in slight confusion.

She looked upward, out to the white void, bewildered.

Saint began to let the echo back into his mind.

As the blue haze, the radiating song, the golden flakes, the great, dissolving nothing became known again, he saw a sparkle of wonder and awe in the Artificer’s eye.

“… Little oddity, little heathen, attuned once more to me.” The melting ghost mused. “What an odd outcrop to clash with along my drift through the tides.”

Saint watched the Artificer stare up in wonder and hope, her expression making his heart flutter a touch.

“… Perhaps you are right, strange one.” The haunting admitted. “Perhaps there is a hope to fight your river, at least through one not yet submerged.”

Saint turned to the echo, gazing solemnly up at the dissolving nothing floating above. No pompousness could deserve this, nothing could.

“… Not exactly a comfort for one such as me.”

Saint sighed and bowed his head in agreement.

“… Try, little beasts. Try, for those who didn’t. For those who can’t.”

Time and space began to fade.

Saint woke up once more.

The Artificer was next to him.

Albeit, no longer wrapped in his tail. Just laying a bit away from him, staring at the wall.

He sat up, clearing the fog of sleep from his mind.

“… Hey, Saint.”

“… Hello.”

Silence for a little bit. She still did not meet his gaze.

“… It… didn’t work…” She murmured. 

Saint tilted his head. “… I don’t follow.” 

“… The echo.” She clarified. “They didn’t change anything.” 

“… Alright.” Saint affirmed. “… They still can.” 

Her ear twitched in interest. 

“… I’ve tried, Saint. More than once.” She brushed off, still looking away. 

“It is not that simple.” Saint said gently. “It’s more than values and levels, like the ancients thought. Nothing will change until you do.” 

She was silent for a bit. 

“I… I’m sorry, Saint, but I don’t…” She murmured. “… I just… don’t believe you...”

Saint stood from his seat and walked a little closer to her. 

“… That’s okay.” 

He laid down by her side, hearing her give him a puzzled glance. He felt his fur brush against her rough skin, making his heart flutter.

”… Would you like to keep traveling with me?” 

She seemed almost startled. 

“… What?” She asked, turning to him. 

“My journey isn’t over.” He stated plainly. “I’m asking you to accompany me.” 

She was silent in thought. 

“… I like you, Artificer.” He said softly. He leaned just slightly and rested his head on her shoulder. “I’d like to help you find hope again.” 

He rested there for a moment. 

“… A- Alright, fuzzy, don’t push it.” She said, gently pushing him off. He obliged and waited for her response. 

“… Y- yeah, I’m…” She managed, turning to him. “… I think I’m up for that.”

Saint smiled warmly at her. 

“I am glad to know.” He stood up. “Shall we?” 

She stood with him and gave a sigh. 

“… Guess so.”

Chapter Text

“So, uhm… where to?”

The Saint and the Artificer were walking atop the canyon cliffside, not far from the shelter they had slept in after Five Pebbles. They had been sent back by the echo, as one always did when meeting the dissolved hauntings. The tentative question came from the Artificer.

“The ledge, at the moment.” Saint answered.

“… You going to elaborate, or…?” She replied.

“… No.” He said plainly, giving a slightly amused smile.

She gave him a thoroughly puzzled look.

He chuckled. “I jest. But we are simply headed to the cliffside. I’m yet to decide how we should proceed out of this superstructure.”

“Oh, I- okay.” She murmured.

They returned to silence. The Artificer still seemed… conflicted, perhaps. Still fighting to ignore a variety of negative emotions, dread, doubt, grief. Trying to ignore them was arguably better than wallowing in silence, but Saint knew she’d have to resolve them eventually.

“… Is something bothering you?” He asked.

She was silent for a moment.

“… Just… Pebbles n’ stuff, I guess…” She mumbled.

Saint nodded solemnly. “Can you specify?”

“… I’m fine.” She claimed. “I said my… goodbyes, it’s… fine.”

“Grief is never that easy, Artificer.” He said softly.

They reached the edge, atop the broken gate once leading to the city and to the cliffside. Saint sat down, the Artificer doing the same after a moment. He looked at his companion, patiently waiting for her to speak.

“… I’m okay, Saint.” She said softly. “Its… okay.”

He gave a small sigh and nodded in acknowledgment.

He turned out to the expanse, dredging his senses for a way forward. He half-heard the Artificer take a few deep breaths, seemingly in an attempt to compose herself.

“… Mind if I ask you something?” She inquired after a bit.

“I do not.” Saint affirmed.

“... When you… said you knew the way here cause you’ve been here before…” The Artificer asked. “Was that a lie…?”

“… Unfortunately, yes.” He admitted. “I lied… a lot when our relationship began. I really wanted your trust.”

“… Did you make the flower?” She inquired.

“… Yes.” He affirmed. “… I’m sorry.”

She tilted her head. “For what?”

“… Lying?” Saint suggested, puzzled as well.

“Isn’t that more effort than just… finding a random one?” She pointed out.

Saint thought a moment, then gave a small shrug. “Perhaps.” He looked back out to the canyon. “… The fastest way to the next facility is down through the internals, essentially a straight shot down.”

“Is there water?”

“Maybe.” Saint answered. “Could be somewhat flooded.”

“Not gonna work.” The Artificer said matter-of-factly.

“Alright, I didn’t want to go there anyway.” Saint conceded with a small amused smile. “Not a fan of cold water myself. The next route is through the wastes.”

Saint waited patiently for her answer as she averted her gaze.

“… Can we avoid them?” She asked tentatively.

Saint nodded. “Of course. That leaves us with back the way we came.”

“And after that?” The Artificer asked.

Saint paused for a moment, scouring his senses.

“… I’m not sure.” Saint admitted. “My senses can only go so far beyond, and visually…” He leaned past her and looked to the wastes, barely visible through the white haze and mostly obscured by the collapsed superstructure. “I’m not entirely aware of another way.”

“…Pipeyard.” The Artificer said simply, as if that solved the problem.

“… What?” Saint asked, puzzled.

“The pipeyard.” She repeated. “We go through that.”

“I’m not aware of this theoretical pipeyard.” Saint mentioned a touch incredulously.

“Oh, you’re- okay, yeah.” She said. “It’s, uh…” She looked out over the expanse, to the half-obscured industrial factory. “… it’s this big system of pipes beneath the factories. Leads to the shoreline, I… think. Dunno, I never went that often…”

Saint nodded. “Alright. I suppose we’ll head down.”

They began the climb down. It was relatively simple, easier than the ascent, but still required caution. But since they had both done it alone just yesterday, it wasn’t that difficult. It gave them both some time to think.

The Artificer was still ignoring something. Still fighting doubts and dreads like before the red lizard, though her struggle was now compounded by recent grief and the like. She was conflicted, tied in knots. Saint wanted to help, but he knew it would likely be better to resolve in a safer space.

Before long they had reached the bottom, heading out across the flats back towards the complex. Saint decided to start some conversation, hoping to take her mind off things.

“How is your knowledge of our planned route?” Saint asked as they walked.

“Uh… meh.” She answered. “Like I said, I never went much before…” Her voice trailed off. She glanced around as if noticing a contradiction in her words.

“Is something wrong?” Saint asked, tilting his head.

“… I mean, I told you I… needed a guide here… when we met.” She murmured.

“… Indeed, you did.” Saint affirmed.

“… That was a lie.” She pointed out.

“Perhaps at surface value.” Saint admitted. “I think you just meant it in another way.”

She stared at him for a moment, seeming to consider his words.

“… Huh.” She acknowledged.

Saint gave her a smile and they walked for a bit more.

“How’d you get so…?” The Artificer asked, searching for the word. “I- don’t know… smart? About how, like, people work?”

“Observant?” Saint suggested. “Perceptive?”

“Sure, that.” She agreed. “How?”

“Well, when you live a thousand lives, there isn’t much else to do.” Saint said with a lighthearted smile.

She nodded slowly. “… Right. You’re, uh… yeah.” She mumbled. “I’m… walking next to a god…”

Saint suppressed a slight wince, his smile fading a bit.

“… I’d prefer if you… didn’t call me that.” He said quietly.

She tilted her head. “Why?” Before Saint could answer, she spoke again. “I- I will. Sorry, I don’t mean to…”

Saint nodded. “Its okay. Caring as you seem to is the best apology you could muster.” He assured her. “I’ll answer your question.”

“It’s… complicated. Very. But in short, I… value my mortality.” He answered. “My connection to life, to beings such as you. Being of the void separates me from that, in a few different ways. There’s a reason why I’m a small, frail slugcat.

“… Which is?” She prompted.

“… Choice.” He said plainly. “I mold my form when I manifest.”

That only increased her confusion, not to Saint’s surprise.

“… But… why all the other stuff?” She questioned, puzzled. “Like, the tongue and the… herbivore stuff? And being so… frail?”

Saint gave a sigh. “… Yes. Again, it’s complicated.” He said. “But… you remember when I said I was not always a pacifist?”

Her eye widened in a revelation.

Saint turned to the snow ahead. “… Pacifism is easier when you don’t have a choice.”

She thought for a moment, looking over his words.

Saint thought back to her interactions with the scavengers. The way she would tense, then still when they insulted her.

“… Yeah.” She murmured, looking at her claws. “Guess so.”

An orange dot making a scavenger toll appeared in the distance, forcing them down into the caverns and internals.

“… What can you… do?” The Artificer asked. “On the… not- slugcat side of things, if you… don’t mind.”

“It’s… once more, complicated.” Saint sighed. “I don’t… really see the use in telling, I prefer not to use most of them. But for honesty’s sake, I’ll admit a few in question would make this journey significantly easier.”

“And you won’t use them?” She assumed.

“Yes...” He affirmed. “I just…” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She assured. “I’ll live.”

The two went quiet as they crawled through the internals. While the Artificer didn’t seem mistrustful of him, she was clearly having difficulty believing someone like Saint would want anything to do with her.

Feeling the air’s chill increase throughout their walk, Saint began to wonder of shelter. He asked the Artificer if she’d eaten, and while she didn’t feel too hungry from the echo messing with her senses, he recommended she find something to make a meal of.

“Perhaps we may take a more… quiet approach?” Saint suggested, in reference to hunting something. “A bit less action?”

“Quiet up until I hit it with an explosive?” She asked dully.

“… Sure, that should work.” Saint affirmed. 

The Artificer briefly glanced around, then pulled a makeshift spear from a mound of rubble. Saint idly followed her gaze as she searched for a threat.

They moved from the caverns into the pipes and winding tunnels, the collapsed electrical systems making a far better home for various life than the chilling, empty caverns just beneath the canyon.

“Can’t tell if this is an easier or harder maze then Pebbles was before… this… happened…” The Artificer said as they clambered across the meandering caves.

“Its almost- impressive.” Saint grunted as he crawled over a mound to follow her. “This isn’t the work of the cold. I have to wonder what happened…”

The Artificer gave a small sigh. “You don’t want to know.”

“Really?” Saint inquired.

“Yes.” She assured him as she crouched to move through a crawlspace. Saint nodded and followed after her, searching his imagination for what could cut an iterator can in half like this one had been.

What could do this to an iterator…?

The Artificer shouted a curse and threw herself backward out of the tunnel, slamming into Saint. He reflexively scrambled out as she trampled him to escape. When Saint found his bearings, he was out of the crawlspace, the Artificer’s voice shouting something.

“FUCK! FUCK!” She yelled, clambering urgently back over the mound they’d walked across. “FUCKEN- RUN, FUZZY!!”

Out of the tunnel wriggled a lumpy black tendril of biomass, dotted in ugly green tumors that writhed slightly with life. The color shifted back and forth down the length as it groped its way out of the tunnel, another following it. Saint crawled back, half paralyzed in realization and fear. Now all the x’s dotted across the walls made a lot more sense. How had he not noticed?

He stumbled to his feet and bounded after the Artificer, darting up the mound as a sound like a pile of wriggling maggots played in his ears. He glanced backward to the horrific threat as he crested the hill.

Four, no, five tendrils now, groping across the cave. A collection of… indescribable mush was clogged in the tunnel, the tentacles connected to it trying to push it out. Saint stumbled slightly and fell down the mound. When he got to his feet, his senses regained, he glanced back to the peak of a mound.

Writhing, throbbing, pulsating with unnatural life at the center of the tentacles was a mass of organic waste, dull yellow crosses lining the spherical chunks. The antithesis of the cycle, of life and death.

Rot.

Saint scrambled after the Artificer through the caverns, conjuring the void within himself. Silver lining to everything, he muttered to himself.

He turned and raised his arm, a destructive pang ringing through the cave as the blast fired off, cutting past rock and metal to blow a chunk off of the cyst’s central mass. It splattered against opposite wall as Saint dove after the Artificer through a tunnel.

“Did you just-?!” The Artificer began as he crawled out.

“Rot isn’t alive!” He interrupted. “It’s complicated and irrelevant! I can slow it down, but not kill it!”

Saint felt the cold of the void continue to flow through him as the Artificer stuttered a variety confused exclamations. Saint briefly looked back into the cave and fired another blast, this one detaching a tendril from its center. A victory soured by the center mass already pulling it back into the collective before it died off as Saint squeezed back out of the cave.

Saint began to dart away when he noticed the Artificer still standing by the tunnel, gnawing on a rock. She’d already modified her earlier spear, a red glob of explosive material glistening near it’s point.

“Artificer?!” He yelled, bewildered. “Are you going to-?!”

“YES, I’M GOING TO FIGHT IT!” She shouted back, pulling a newly made grenade from her mouth. “THIS IS WHAT FUCKING KILLED HIM!!”

Saint realized what this barely-sentient cyst could symbolize to her.

This is what ripped Five Pebbles in half.

He felt like his eyes had been opened to a secret long hidden, the environment peppered with dead, decayed rot. So much made sense. The odd abundance of dirt in some of the caverns, that was the rot’s organic material compressed and decayed till it was indistinguishable from regular ground. The strange dots he assumed to be screws; those were frozen cysts. Void almighty, Five Pebbles’ entire can was rotten to its core.

The Artificer darted back into the cave before Saint could protest. He briefly deliberated, then followed, feeling his arm tingling from his usage of the void.

He heard an explosion before he entered. When he clambered through, the mobile tumor was pulling itself off the ground, blast marks scratched across some of it’s tendrils and organic matter splattered across the walls. It groped around at the direction the bomb had come from, but the Artificer was already winding through the tendrils beneath it. She reached the other side of the cancer and raised her spear to throw.

Whizz, sparking, blast. Saint scrambled back from an entire detached tentacle flying towards him, hearing more globs of mush squelch against the walls. The cyst was damaged, but not destroyed.

He channeled the sea, manipulating the karmic essence in the air to center on his target. He charged the blast for a bit more before a shout broke his concentration.

The Artificer had been grabbed, the rot sticking one of it’s tendrils to her and dragging her towards the center mass. Saint let the blast shatter another piece of the cyst, but it failed to free her from the tentacle’s grip.

He glanced around briefly, thinking as fast as he could. He nabbed a piece of rebar and raced around the tentacles towards the Artificer. He thanked fate she was holding her own, but her claws and strength couldn’t last forever.

“Artificer!” He yelled, holding the spear into the air and grabbing her attention. He fired a small blast to deter a tendril sliding towards him as she noticed his plan.

He passed the spear to her and raced a bit away, firing an ineffectual channeling towards the tentacle that ensnared her. He stilled and properly channeled the void in hopes to actually do some damage as the Artificer gnawed on the end of her spear. Another tendril was attempting to grip her.

A destructive pang, one tentacle detached, wriggling blindly in attempt to find it’s host. Then falling lifeless moments later. The Artificer completed her spear’s modification. She reared back, waiting for the tendrils to part in just the right way…

She hit her mark. The fuse ran out.

The cyst exploded at its core, splattering the entire cave in slime. Saint covered his face with his arms, feeling flecks of goo fly into his fur. The Artificer tumbled briefly across the cave, the tendril still ensnared around her but stilled and detached.

It was dead.

Saint turned back to his companion, who was extremely distressed. He hadn’t noticed till now, but she was hyperventilating. Clawing and pushing at the slowly dying tendril, traumatized anguish in her form.

He raced to her side and tried to help pull her from it’s grip. Eventually they managed to free her from its stickiness, and she stilled, breathing heavily and looking like she was going to throw up. The tentacle was now nothing more than a slowly melting mush.

Saint caught his breath and regained his clarity. 

The Artificer stifled a retch, shaking slightly.

“… I can cleanse some of the matter from you.” Saint mentioned, referring to the slime and splatter dotting her form.

“What?” She asked, still panicked.

“The… goop. It’s…”

“Get this shit the fuck off of me.”

Saint scooted urgently to her side concentrated briefly. An odder ability of his was to dissolve certain forms of organic matter, so long as they were dry of karma. That was why the bodies of ascended beings dissipated.

He glided his hand across the splotches of gunk across her skin, the material deteriorating off of her and floating into the air as little golden flecks. Then disappearing, returned to void as all would inevitably.

The Artificer shuddered once the process was over. She was still clearly haunted.

The Artificer took a few deep, shaky breaths. Saint looked sadly at her, struggling to imagine what trauma this was bringing up.

“… get me the fuck out of here.”

They left the cave the way they came, unwilling to explore further in the direction of rot. Eventually they found a meal for the Artificer, but she seemed no better for it. Her eye still held the trappings of her emotions, grief brought back to the surface. Trappings she was trying very hard to ignore.

They found a shelter and crawled in. The Artificer almost immediately murmured a goodnight and curled up. Saint sighed and laid down as well. But when he drew breath to return the favor, he stopped.

“… Artificer, I think we should talk.” He said, sitting up.

She tentatively opened her eye.

“… About… what?” She said quietly.

“About what’s bothering you.” He said gently.

“Nothing is bothering me.” She denied.

Saint stared sadly at her for a moment.

“… Fine, the rot messed me up. There.” She muttered. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“… I think a lot of things are bothering you, but the rot is most recent.” He affirmed. “And that exactly why you should talk about it.”

“No.” She denied, sitting up a bit. “I don’t care. I’m not.”

“Artificer, you will have to eventually.”

“Says who!?” She retorted.

“Healthy grieving.” He answered. “Resolving issues. Giving yourself the comfort you deserve.”

She was silent, avoiding his gaze.

Saint gave a small sigh.

“… May I at least lay next to you?” Saint asked, half trying to be helpful and half just wanting to be near her.

“… No, Saint.” She muttered, turning away. “I’m fine.”

He sighed again.

“… Goodnight, Artificer.” He said quietly. “I’m here if you need me.”

He laid down and closed his mind.

”… Goodnight, Saint.” She muttered offhandedly.

Silver lining, Saint supposed…

Chapter Text

Saint was having a nondescript dream, floating through the void. Watching the lights shine in the distance, feeling the sea crash and part from each slither of the worms. By now these occasional dreams were nothing more than a touch unpleasant. The annoying part were the fact they were actually dreams- thus, he couldn’t wake up at a whim. At least during his meetings with the worms, all that really kept him there were his manners.

“Saint…?”  Whispered a hushed, pleading voice at the edges of his consciousness. “… goddamit, arti… Saint, please…”

His vision flickered open, his eye’s actual lids opening slightly for just a moment due to his slightly feverish mind. He briefly panicked before he noticed who was looming over him.

The Artificer recoiled as he propped himself up, possibly a bit surprised at the sight of his eyes. She regained her bearings, shaking away the surprise and sitting knelt in front of him, her hands in her lap. She looked a little ashamed to have woken him, like a child waking a parent over a bump in the night.

“… good morning?” Saint asked, rubbing his eyes.

“… hey.” She mumbled. “You were, uh…” Her voice trailed off.

Saint sat up sleepily. “Mm?”

“You were… tossing and turning, and, uhm… looked… worried, so I…” She mumbled.

Saint nodded, though he wondered if that wasn’t the only reason she woke him. He sometimes slept fitfully when dreaming, but rarely more than a pained expression and some rolling. He didn’t think that would be enough for her to wake him in worry.

“… We’re up early.” Saint noted, glancing at the locked shelter door.

“Yeah, yeah, we are…” Artificer said, avoiding his gaze and scooting back a bit. “Sorry for waking you, I’ll just… go back to bed.”

“No, no. Wait.” Saint said, gently taking her hand and pulling her back. “We can talk for a bit. Lest I descend back into the dark.”

“… okay.” She murmured, relaxing once more.

They sat, silent for a moment.

“… Why are you up?” He inquired.

She stayed quiet as she stared at the floor.

“Its okay. No judgment.” Saint reminded her gently.

“… a dream.” She mumbled. “Nightmare, I guess. It’s… childish, I know…”

“I don’t think so.” Saint disagreed. “It’s a sign of anxiety, which is far from childish.”

“… guess so.” She agreed.

She went silent again.

“… Would you like to talk?” He asked her softly.

“… I dunno.” She mumbled.

Saint gave a small sigh.

“… Artificer, I cannot feign ignorance.” He pressed. “You woke me for more than my own fitfulness.”

Her gaze flickered around for a moment as she tried to find her voice.

“I- I- fine!” She admitted. “I woke you cuz I was- bored and- and scared and selfish, okay? Is that what you want?”

“Artificer, I just want to help you.” He said sadly. “There is nothing you should be ashamed of. You have been through so much, I cannot imagine how your sleeping mind torments you.”

She stared at the ground, looking very sad.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He pleaded. “Or don’t! Just… let me help. In whatever way I can.”

She looked around for a moment, choosing her actions.

“… I’m scared, Saint…” She whimpered. “I- I don’t… I can’t…”

Saint sighed, wondering if he should hug her.

“… C’mere.” He prompted her. “If you’d like a hug, I’m glad to offer. But at least sit by my side.”

She thought for a moment.

She wordlessly scooted over and slumped into him with melancholy. He wrapped her in a hug and held her tightly, her gentle heat and coarse skin oddly making for an oddly comforting texture. She did not return the hug, merely laying in his arms. He didn’t mind.

She sat for a while as he held her tight. Saint wondered if there would be a day he be able to hold her as she slept.

She began to pull away. Saint briefly squeezed her as tight as he could, then allowed her to turn and slump down by his side, resting her head in his shoulder. He gently readjusted to assure she was comfortable.

“… I don’t… know what else to say…” She mumbled.

“You don’t need to say anything.” He assured her gently. “This is enough.”

She sighed, seeming dissatisfied.

“… I know it’s hard, and there’s no easy path.” He continued softly. “Finding yourself, sorting your mind, grieving as you must, it’s all hard.” He leaned down so his head rested against her ear. “The best you can do is find something or someone to help you. I hope I’m doing just a bit of that.”

He couldn’t tell if it was absentminded, intentionally hidden, or just tentative, but he felt her nuzzle slightly into the nape of his neck.

“… you are…” She murmured sadly. “You’re…” She paused, something stopping her from saying what lay in her throat. “… you are.”

The moment was a mixture of heartbreaking and absolutely elating. The sadness and pain in her voice, the pieces left unsaid clearly resting like hot coals in her heart. Mixed with the knowledge that he was a comfort to her. That was all he wanted. He wanted to hold her tight and keep her safe from all harm till the void sea swallowed up the sky.

The sat in silence for another while, reveling in mutual care. Saint’s heart was nearly racing with excitement, a giddiness rising in his soul that made him want to squeeze the crimson slugcat as tight as he could. Which, to be fair, wasn’t saying much.

The Artificer sighed quietly.

“… I feel a… a little better…” She mumbled.

“That is good.” He affirmed.

“… Can we stay… like this…?” She managed.

“Of course.”

Stillness for a while. On the outside. Internally, the Saint was very much struggling to maintain his composure. He added another perk of having fur, that being a convenient hiding place for the slight blush around his cheeks. He thanked fate she had rested against him with her bad eye.

In his attempts to distract from his heart, a thought struck him. A reminder of something he’d planned to do before they went to sleep.

“… Do your scars pain you, Artificer?” He asked.

She was silent for a moment, a bit surprised by his question.

“… I dunno. A few…” She mumbled, readjusting slightly. “Mainly the burns, the… scratches, not so much.”

Saint nodded slightly. “I figured.” He affirmed. “Said burns haven’t faded, correct?”

“… No.” She confirmed. “Is that… not normal…?”

Saint paused, thinking for a moment.

“… I think those scars are… deeper.” Saint mused. “Through some result of your disconnection from karma and the causes of the injuries, I believe those have scarred your karmic essence. Your soul, in simpler terms.”

“… And?” She prompted.

“… I think I can heal them.”

She perked up slightly.

“Like all things associated with karma, it’s more art than science. Such is the nature of a metaphysical wound.” He explained. “But I think you are in a place to heal.”

“… But I…” She murmured. “The echo… didn’t change- me…”

“It’s not just values, remember?”

She thought for a moment.

“… okay.” She mumbled. “… what do I have to do?”

“Do you mind if I scoot away?”

“… No, it’s… fine.” She said quietly. She sounded like she wished it could last a little longer.

Nonetheless, Saint leaned off of her and moved a bit away. The Artificer leaned against the side wall to face him.

“Now. This will require physical touch.” Saint clarified. “And some heavy manipulation of your karmic essence. That type of contact can feel… deceptively intimate.”

“… What do you mean?”  She asked tentatively.

“… It can feel intrusive. I generally believe I am gentle enough to avoid disturbing sensations, but it is still some variation of physical intimacy.” He explained. “Even if it is through the metaphysical being.”

“… Okay.” She affirmed. “… And?”

“Are you okay with that?” He asked.

She thought for a moment.

“… Yeah.” She confirmed.

Saint nodded. “You may withdraw that if your answer changes. If you’ll give me your tail?”

She moved over to him and swept her tail around herself. Saint followed suit, sitting knelt a bit behind her to access the burn scar on her tail. A jagged patch of dulled, darkened skin.

“How does this one pain you?” He asked. “To be sure I don’t cause any discomfort.”

“T’s just… numb.” She answered. “To about here.” She pointed to a spot where the jagged mark faded away.

Saint nodded. He let the void flow through him and gently placed his hand against the scar, combing through her essence for the true scar’s place. The skin was coarse and dry, the numbness starving it of sensation. As he predicted, the touch felt… intimate. His heart was fluttering a little.

“Are your hands… always this cold?” The Artificer asked tentatively. “Wait, how can I…?”

“No.” Saint answered. “That is the void. It is rather cold. Don’t fear, it is natural even despite the numbness.”

“… Huh.”

Saint continued to dredge for the mark’s source, maintaining his concentration past his heart's little plucks of excitement. At some point he felt the Artificer twitch.

“Is everything alright?” He asked gently.

“Y- Yeah.” She answered. “Just a little, uhm…” Her voice trailed off. Saint did not notice, as his vision was closed, but the shade of red around her cheeks had changed just slightly.

“… Would you like me to stop?”

“No!” She blurted, quickly recoiling and briefly covering her mouth. “It, um, it’s… fine…” She mumbled, turning away.

Saint thought for a moment, mulling over her tone. It occurred to him that she was likely entrenched in several layers of being touch-starved, both metaphysically and regularly. The sensation might be a kind of delicate intimacy, a gentle force caressing the rough edges of her being with care despite the coarse texture and unnatural heat. How long had it been since she’d experienced that kind of touch?

That was a little sad. More happy to give her that gift again. And being honest, he couldn’t deny thinking she was flustered over it was also a bit amusing. He returned to his concentration, gently pushing away the pulsing in his chest. He could indulge that another time.

He found the wound. After a moment he gently pulled his hand away, returning from his meditative state with his fingers tingling from the channeling. He was too focused on that to notice the Artificer briefly follow his touch, then recoil once she realized he was pulling away.

“… A burn of some acidic substance, I believe.” Saint mused as he opened his vision. “Mixed with… a more explosive burn? An oddly impersonal threat, considering the depth. What happened?”

“Oh, um…” She said, surprised by the question.

She thought for a bit, seeming discomforted with part of the memories.

“… The wastes used to have a bunch of acid everywhere. I’m like- sort of immune? It usually sparks off of me. But my tail slipped in, and I think it got in through a cut or something, cause it set off my blast-jump thingy, and… y’know.” She made the motion of an explosion with her hand, a little sound effect to boot. Saint stifled a giggle and nodded thoughtfully.

“… Hm.” He mused. “I’m not sure how this would scar so deeply. These are, indirectly, caused through a mixture of emotion and action. Can you perhaps tell me more?”

She stared at the floor shamefully.

He saw that familiar indignant guilt in her eyes.

“… I was torturing a scavenger.” She muttered.

Saint nodded solemnly.

“… I don’t deserve this.” She claimed, beginning to pull her tail away.

“Artificer, wait.” He said, gently preventing her. “That-”

”No.” She denied. “I don’t want to hear it.” She tugged her tail away in full.

”Artificer, please-”

“Saint, I was more focused on making a scavenger suffer than keeping my own fucking tail!” She interjected.

Saint gave a small sigh.

“… Healing is not absolution, Artificer.”

Some of her anger began melting into confusion.

“Healing this scar will not undo the crime.” He continued gently. “I won’t say you’re wrong for claiming you don’t deserve to be absolved of guilt. But that is not what I am doing.”

“… The guilt will stay.” He said softly. “The pain will go.”

She was silent in thought.

“… But… if…” She murmured. “… Don’t I deserve it…?”

“Perhaps.” He admitted. “I think not. But you do not deserve it forever.”

She was quiet still.

“You have lived a lifetime of suffering.” He reminded her. “You have payed your price.”

Silence.

“… Would you like to give me your tail once more?” Saint asked her.

She perked up and stared at him for a moment.

Wordlessly, she moved back over. She sat down in front of him and swept her tail back around herself so he might touch the scar.

Saint looked at her in a final silent question, hovering his hand over the mark. She thought for a moment, looking away.

She glanced at him, then away again. She took a deep breath.

“… Okay.”

Saint took a deep breath of his own and delved into her essence once more.

Winding, twisting, drifting through an intricate web till he found the offending knot.

Gliding across the tangle till a singular loose thread made itself known.

Gently take the line…

Saint returned to reality, falling from his meditative state of metaphysical awareness and finding himself once more. About a minute had passed. Thought the mark was still etched into her skin, Saint had confidence.

He let his hand fall from the wound and into his lap. He nodded toward the scar in a gesture for her to try.

The Artificer swept her tail to a resting position and gently thumped it against the ground once or twice. Then she reached back and felt the patch of burnt skin.

“… Yeah.” She confirmed, sitting back. “I… I can feel it.”

Saint smiled softly at her.

“… You are healing, Artificer.” He said softly.

She nodded slowly.

For a moment, all was still.

“… I suppose I shall see you in the morning.” Saint said gently, beginning to lay down.

“Wait.” She stopped, holding her hand out. Saint sat back up. “… What’ll happen to the scar?”

Saint thought for a moment, puzzled at what she meant. “… You mean the physical mark?” She nodded. “… Oh! My, I indeed forgot that part. Physical and metaphysical essence are separate, I must do a smaller manipulation afterward so the mark will heal.” He began to move forward, but she recoiled a touch.

“… Unless you’d like to keep it?” He asked, sitting back down.

“… Yeah.” She affirmed, moving her tail to her side and tracing the scar’s jagged edges. “… It’s a reminder, y’know? So I…” She gave a brief sigh. “…you get it.”

Saint nodded.

“Thoughtful. I commend you.” He said, bowing his head in acknowledgment. “… And, to add, I think you look pretty with them.” 

For a moment she gave him a thoroughly puzzled glance, then a nervous one away, several more types around the room.

“… T- Thanks.” She managed to stammer.

“You’re welcome, Artificer.” He said softly.

Stillness.

“… Can you stop calling me that?” She asked firmly, turning to look directly at him.

Some part of Saint became a bit worried.

“… What would you… like me to call you-?”

The Artificer hugged him tightly.

“Call me Arti.” She said, though it sounded a bit like a demand. “You… stupid, polite, fuzzy idiot.”

Saint felt a very unique joy rising in him.

He returned the hug.

“Of course, Arti.” He agreed. “Of course.”

They held the hug for a bit.

The Artificer pulled away and sat for a moment.

“… We should get some sleep.” Saint said, smiling softly.

“… Yeah.”

She returned the smile slightly as she moved to the other side of the shelter. Saint began to lay down.

She paused.

She turned back and laid down next to Saint. Not touching him, merely being beside.

“… g’night, Saint.”

“Goodnight, Arti.”

Chapter Text

Saint awoke gently the next morning, allowing his vision to flicker open as he stood and stretched.

“You wake up, like… the exact same way every day.” The Artificer noted.

“Well, you stare at me every morning.” Saint rebuffed. “Perhaps we both have our oddities.”

“Hmph.” She grunted.

“… Hey, uh… thanks. For… last night.”

Saint nodded, smiling softly. “You are welcome. How is it?”

“… Oh, the- tail?” She asked. “Its, uh… fine. Lil weird.”

“Naturally.” Saint said. “Shall we start the day?”

The two started back out into the fallen construct. Saint wouldn’t call his mind relaxed, it never really was, but he felt less… stressed, in a way. For the first time, it really felt like his relationship with the Artificer wasn’t in imminent jeopardy. No rearing truths or revelations that might separate them. Just things they could face together.

The two surfaced from the structure internals to find the canyon wall not far, towering above them through the flecks of snow. Perhaps by luck, experience, or whatever else, the retracing of their steps had gone far easier than the first way across the silent superstructure.

“Our lucks been high recently.” Saint noted from above his companion.

“Mmhm.” The Artificer grunted as she climbed. “Be really funny if that changed, in like, two seconds…”

“Optimistic.” Saint said, smiling.

“Man, saying how our lucks being high is like asking for a king vulture.” She retorted as she clambered to the ledge he was on.

Saint shrugged. “Fair, I suppose. Fate can be cruel.”

They continued up the wall, Saint gracefully pulling himself up with his tongue while the Artificer clawed her way up behind him. She seemed a little tired by the time they reached the peak, perhaps from a mixture of physical exertion and little sleep last night.

She crawled up the ledge and stood, taking a quick breath to compose herself. Then she turned and looked back out upon the canyon they’d spent half a dozen cycles traversing. Saint did the same.

She sighed.

“… I’m sorry, Pebbles.” She said quietly into the whistling wind. “… Goodbye.”

She turned back to Saint.

“… I… think I’m ready to go.” She said.

Saint nodded.

Far too late, a buzzing sound brushed past his ears.

He had barely registered seeing the Artificer twitch before a burst of sound and movement knocked him to the ground.

Snow in his fur, cold pressing into his skin. Rolling, stilling. A snarling shout of anger and pain from somewhere nearby. He stumbled up to find his bearings.

The horn of, what else, a king vulture, buried in the snow. A worrying amount of red splashed across the white blanket.

The Artificer stood a bit away, teeth gritted and eyes aflame with rage. She clutched a spot on her side where a vicious gash lay, running down her midsection and ending on her leg. Blood ran down her leg and stained the snow beneath her a dark, ugly red.

She made a sound like a snarl and a cry of pain and dove to the side as the next horn shot down. Saint got to his feet, his senses buzzing with worry and fear. When he looked back to his wounded companion, a makeshift spear was in her hand.

A retracted horn fired again, she bounded out of the way. She raced towards the other embedded horn as the wire tugged it back, trails of blood spotting the snow behind her. She dove and latched onto it as it dislodged from the snow, now yanking her towards the aerial monarch.

A horrible scream of snarled rage as she shoved the spear down the bird's throat. She leaped to its back and began to scratch and tear as it’s wings failed. Saint heard tearing metal, then one of its thrusters blowing out as some core mechanical part was shattered. The vulture’s blood had already stained the snow before it’s body hit the ground.

Saint couldn’t really describe the scene after. Viscera, blood and scrap metal flung out from the corpse in little pieces, the snow beneath the body slowly turning a dark red as the Artificer shredded her already dead prey. Then larger pieces, then cracking bones. All overlayed with a horrific rabid snarling, repeated exertions of viscous rage and agony. Saint was unsure if he’d ever seen such a fervent mauling.

The monarch was beginning to lose recognizable form, but she was not slowing, even as her wound bled further. The gruesome carnage made him feel a bit sick, though…

He’d seen this side of the Artificer before.

Glimpses. When she threatened the scavengers, when her eyes lit in anger. Beneath each grunt or sigh was this, not the anguished, guilty Artificer he knew. This was the Artificer who went to war.

Saint shook himself out of his daze.

She needed help.

He bounded through the snow and to her side atop the corpse, trying to ignore the bloodied, mangled texture beneath his feet.

“Artificer, you are hurt-!” He began, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She threw his hand off and turned to him with that same fire in her eyes. The fire scavengers told stories about, the fire of hate and agony. The storm wrought of grief and rage.

Saint stepped back, startled.

She gasped.

“… S- Saint, I…” She whispered; fury dissolved into horror. She stared at the blood that reached from her claws to her wrists. She moved her hands to her mouth, drifting towards the splashes of dried and new blood curving in a horrible, unwilling grin across her face.

“Artificer!” He repeated, taking her hands in his. “You are wounded!”

“Wh- Saint, I-?”

He turned away and essentially dragged her off the body, moving with as much urgency as he could without danger of worsening the wound.

“We are finding a popcorn plant, you are stripping it of its cover, and I am wrapping your wound.” He said firmly. “Put pressure on your side best you can. And, while I’m here, please start walking faster.”

She stammered nothing of substance for a moment before obliging. Then, before Saint could protest, she darted ahead of him on all fours.

“Artificer!” He yelled, bounding after her.

“What?!” She shouted back.

“You are bleeding!!” He said exasperatedly.

She gave a snarl of annoyance and turned away, quickening her pace. “I’ve been through worse!” She shouted back. The ever-increasing blood trail behind her was extremely worrying, though to her credit, she did not falter.

She was stripping a sprouting popcorn plant by the time he’d gotten to her, its seeds flinging about the bloodied snow around her. The plants dotted most of the canyon wall’s peaks, but they hadn’t really been of use till now.

Saint took the few strips of plant matter she’d left in a pile and began and wrapping the lower part of her wound as she tore away. She glanced down at him, seemingly puzzled as he began tying the first makeshift bandage together.

“Dude, wh-?!” She stammered.

“There is a gash in your side the width of my arm, I don’t wanna hear it!” He interjected.

“I have been through worse!” She repeated angrily. “Why-?!”

”Because I care about you, Arti!” He yelled back, looking up at her.

”You don’t need to-!”

”For fucks sake, I just don’t want to see you hurt!” 

She stilled in surprise, allowing Saint to further his wrapping of her wounds.

”Go ahead! Protest!” He continued as he acted. “I won’t give in on this! You are hurt and I am going to help you, whether you think I should or not!” 

She continued to stare in a sort of confused, apologetic anguish for a bit. Remorse was beginning to sink in. Saint ran out of bandages and looked up at her.

“Arti, I am sorry. Please, you are still bleeding.” He pleaded.

She started a bit, then returned to tearing away the popcorn’s covering.

After a bit, her wounds were wrapped, the red plant matter stained a darker, bloodier shade.

Saint sat down and sighed, wiping some of her blood from his hands in the snow.

She seemed too ashamed to meet his gaze.

He stared at the floor for a bit as well.

“… How does it feel?” He asked her gently, standing up.

“… Fine.” She mumbled, wiping some of the dried blood from around her mouth.

That was a lie. She was obviously accustomed to pain, but Saint could almost feel the burning, stinging agony that would be emanating from her side with each breath.

“How does your leg feel?”

She looked a little puzzled.

“The horn went from your midsection, down to your hip.” He said, drawing a line where the gash had been. “There is a bone there. While evidence provides it did not break nor shatter anything, a fracture or scratch is possible.”

“… No, it feels… normal.” She mumbled.

“That’s good.” He said softly.

Stillness. Saint could feel blood drying in his fur.

“… I’m sorry for my outburst.” He said politely, looking at the ground a little bit. “I… wanted to convey urgency, and I was… emotional.” He paused for a moment. “… Doesn’t excuse it. I’m sorry.” 

“… Y- yeah, I- I get it.” She replied.

Stillness.

“… We should head to a shelter.” Saint said quietly.

They started back across the canyon after Saint grabbed a few extra strips of plant matter.

He spent a little time thinking things over. The callous way the Artificer treated her own injuries, her mortified expression after her bout of rabid fury. The way she kept glancing at him, guilt in her eye.

“… I’ve seen blood before, Arti.” He said into the whistling wind. “You haven’t scarred or hurt me.”

She was silent.

“I’m not angry at you.” He continued. “I just wish you-”

“Shut up.” She muttered. Then she seemed to be struck with regret and indecision, angrily drawing breath, glancing around, and then simply darting off.

“Arti!” He yelled, bounding after her. She did not look back, racing across the snowy blanket. 

He was panicked for a bit, sprinting as fast as he could. 

Then he noticed… that she wasn’t outrunning him. 

She was far faster than him. While the wound was still fresh and open, she had beaten him to the plant. But now, she seemed almost to be keeping pace with him.

Caught between the anguish and struggle of speaking about the circumstances, and the fear of wondering what she would do without him.

She was, quite literally, running from her problems. From her inability to apologize, from her hatred of her violent tendencies. From whatever emotions the Saint’s gentle words gave her.

He “chased” her across the rooftop, down the wall, trying his best to keep the makeshift future bandages clean. The wind was howling by the time he’d reached the bottom, and he’d lost sight of the Artificer. But, as he suspected, she was there when he crawled into the familiar shelter in the half-broken cave near the citadel's bridges.

He sat down, placing the stack of plant matter by his side and leaving the shelter tunnel open. The Artificer sat across from him, gazing straight into the metal floor.

…

“… My original wrapping was a touch poor.” He said to her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to properly clean and dress the wound.”

“… Okay.” She mumbled after a moment. “… don’t you need… water?”

Saint nodded. “I’m sure I can find some scrap that can serve as a bowl. I’ll collect some snow and allow it to melt.”

She nodded. Saint briefly left, rummaging through the many piles of scrap metal making the cave the shelter was shelved in. Before long he found something akin to a warped bowl and went outside to collect the needed snow. He scooped some snow into the scrap and retrieved the lantern from his stomach, using its heat to melt the first flakes of ice. Once a bit of water had collected, he simply scooped snow into it and let the water melt it. After a while, the bowl was about full. He returned to he shelter and placed it by the strips of plant matter.

He allowed the locks to fall in, sat down by the supplies and gestured for the Artificer to sit. She obliged, walking over and resting with her injured side facing him. He gently unwrapped her wounds and got a proper look at the damage.

The gash started at her upper stomach, just below her ribs. It ran down her side, mostly covered by where her arm rested, just over her hip and ended just beneath it. It was manageable, and thankfully wasn’t bleeding too much, though it was still somewhat gruesome.

He took one of the smaller strips of plant matter and began to clean the wound, wiping and patting away the grime, dirt and dried blood. The Artificer stayed silent through the process, despite clearly being in pain. In more than one way.

“… We should talk, though we don’t have to now.” Saint said. “And, might I add, a wince or two might do you some good.”

She gave him a puzzled glance.

“Exertions of pain release emotion, give me info on your state, and are generally unhelpful when suppressed.” He elaborated. “Keeping quiet only delays the pain. Which is likely part of why…” He paused to examine a spot more closely. “… no, that’s just...” He muttered to himself. Then he sat up with a sigh. “… I can tell you are in pain in other ways. I understand your discomfort, but I recommend you vocalize.”

She stayed silent for a bit. Though, when Saint next brushed across the gash, his ears caught the slightest wince from her.

It was quiet for a bit.

“… I’m sorry.” The Artificer said quietly. 

“It’s okay.” Saint said. “… Genuinely. I know it seems off that I am unbothered, but I do forgive you.”

She gave a small sigh and looked away. 

“… You don’t believe me.” Saint noted. 

“No. You’re wrong.” She corrected. “You should give more of a shit about this.” 

“… Well, I don’t.” He said plainly, leaning to the side of her wound. “Take that as you will.”

“… You saw what I did to it, Saint.” She muttered indignantly. “I- I…” 

Her voice trailed off. She placed her head in her hands.

”… I almost hurt you.” She murmured through her fingers, her voice cracking. “I- I was going to…”

”You didn’t.” Saint interjected. “Actions speak louder than words.” 

“Yeah, well my actions are disgusting.” She retorted, looking up. “I mutilated that thing. There are cuts on my hands from its fucking bones. For fucks sake, I’m still covered in blood! You are covered in-!”

She turned angrily to him as she spoke, both twisting her wounded flesh and bumping Saint’s hand into the bloodied gash. She doubled over in pain with a shout, clutching her side. 

Saint dropped the makeshift rag and sort of caught her, helping place pressure on the wound. He helped her return to a seated position, whispering apologies. 

“Sorry, sorry…” He murmured. “I know it hurts, just please be still…” 

She gritted her teeth and said nothing. Saint pulled away and let her regain composure.

”… God dammit…” She muttered, holding her side. 

“Don’t scorn yourself.” He gently chastised.

”I deserve it, Saint.” She muttered, placing her head back in her hands. “I’m a monster.” 

“You are complicated.” He corrected. “And regretful. You can change. You have changed.”

”Okay?!?” She acknowledged, exasperated. “And?!? I’m so fucking… angry all the goddamn time…”

”You know that isn’t true, Arti.” Saint said softly. 

“…Then why. Did that statement. Make me angry?” She growled through gritted teeth, glaring at him.

”It made you upset.” He corrected. “You merely don’t know how to express it as something other than anger.” 

“How is-!?” She stopped herself and put her head back in her hands, her voice broken. 

Saint took the strip and re-soaked it. 

“… I’m going to continue cleaning it.” He said softly. “Just so the sting doesn’t surprise you…”

She stayed silent, her head in her hands. She winced as he first touched the wound again. 

Some time passed.

”… How is that better?” She asked through her fingers.

”It’s fixable.” He said plainly. “You cannot change how you feel. But you can change how you react to those feelings.” 

She was quiet for a bit. 

“… Well, guess fucking what, Saint, I do feel angry!” She said, looking back at him. “At you!”

He sat up and tilted his head, his expression curious and solemn.

”I’m sitting over here, pissed as hell at you because some- idiot in the back of my head thinks this is your fault!” She continued, gesturing angrily at their surroundings. “Because I- I- I was too focused on you to notice a fucking king vulture!” 

Saint continued to touch up her wound for a bit, silent in thought. 

“And now I’m yelling at you…” She said, placing her head back in her hands as her voice cracked. “… Like I’m not the fucking problem…”

...

“… Raise your arm, please.”

She exhaled and obliged.

“… Well. I could claim the obvious rebuttal, that being that thought is not action.” He replied, soaking the strip in water again. “But you know that. So instead, I’ll say this. You can lower your arm.” 

She did so. Saint put aside the makeshift rag and began the somewhat difficult process of making bandages of popcorn covers. Sticking and tying the strips to each other, assuring no sap would touch the wound, all that.

“… Honed senses is a skill in certain quantities.” He continued. “If they are too honed, that is different. That is paranoia.”

“… I suppose you can weigh the pros and cons. Without me, you wouldn’t have this injury. Without this injury, you’d be alone.”

He continued to craft the bandages in silence for a bit.

“… If that eases the voice, it in theory eases the rest.” He connected. “As for the words… well, they are just words. As I said before… regret is all you need to change.”  

She gave a quiet sigh.

“… I’ll be soaking it with what’s left of the water now.” He said gently. “Would you like me to count down or simply apply it without notice?”

She was quiet.

“… You don’t dress wounds often, do you?” He asked her. “Or rather, have them dressed.”

“… No…” She mumbled. “I dunno…”

Saint nodded. “That’s okay. I’ll count down. I’m of the opinion that no informed person would choose the latter.”

He raised the bowl of water up to the peak of the injury and gestured for her to raise her arm.

“Three, two, one…”

Saint poured the last of the water over the gash, causing her to grit her teeth and growl in pain.

“Good.” Saint remarked, taking the first crafted wrapping.

He began to re-wrap her wounds. A bit more time passed.

“… Sorry for…” She mumbled again. “…telling you to shut up… also…”

Saint couldn’t help but allow a small chuckle to escape him. “Be still, my heart. My ego will never recover.” He said jokingly.

“Oh, fuck off…” She dismissed. “I’m… mean to you a lot, and I’m… sorry…”

“What?” He asked, confused as he looked back from the pile of strips. “Arti, you are never mean to me.”

“I literally just told you to fuck off.” She refuted.

“Oh, that’s just turn of phrase.” He dismissed, taking another bandage. “Fuck is a word like any other.”

“Wh- are- are we just using that whenever now?!” She asked incredulously.

He chuckled, pausing the wrapping for a moment. “No. It simply has the wrong connotation more often than not. In a way, I’ve gone and stabbed myself in the foot with my aversion to swearing, as it ends up lessening my vocabulary. You curse at the drop of a hat, and can therefore use less words to say more things. But, that’s just linguistic style, I suppose.”

She stared at him, completely bewildered by his small tangent.

“… What?!”

He laughed aloud.

“Ohhhh, my…” He chuckled. “In short. When I curse, it means something is very wrong, as I never do so. When you curse, it means… well, anything. From friendly banter to alerts of threats to… exertions of pain.” He smiled at the little poetic cycle he’d made.

“… Huh.”

“… That was a bit of a diversion. You aren’t mean to me, Arti.” He said as he reached around her to wrap the wound. “You are rough around the edges in a completely superficial way. And, in fact, I enjoy it.”

She gave a sigh.

“… More than just superficial…” She sighed.

“Aren’t we all.” Saint affirmed as he finished the final wrapping. “Even I.”

She was silent. A little resigned, a little hopeful, a little sad. A little of a lot of things.

“… The wound is dressed.” He announced to her. “How’s it feel?”

“… Fine.” She answered. Saint stared in a silent ask for her to elaborate.

“… Hurts a bit.” She admitted. Saint continued to stare.

“… Hurts.” She amended. “T’s a bit itchy, and… tight.”

Saint nodded. “Natural. Perhaps later we can skin a lizard and fashion some proper bandages. Anything sting?”

She seemed a bit confused.

“In a different way then the wound. Sting like the water did.” He elaborated.

“… No.” She confirmed.

“Good. That means no sap is getting in.” He thought over it all for a bit. “… That should be all.”

“… Goin to bed?” She asked.

“Indeed.” Saint affirmed with a nod.

Saint waited for her to lay down, or cross the shelter, or whatever else. She stayed still, looking like she was trying to work up the courage to speak.

“… can I lay a little closer than usual?” She asked quietly.

“Of course.” He said with a soft smile, laying down. “Wherever you like.”

She moved just a bit away and curled up as she usually did.

The two said their goodnights and drifted into sleep.

Chapter Text

The Artificer awoke. Quickly, as always, her ears perking up. She glanced to find the shelter door still shut tight.

She rolled over to look at Saint.

She simply stared at him for a bit. All the recent events swam through her mind.

He made things so much easier.

And so, so, so much harder.

She hasn’t let herself feel pain in hundreds of cycles. She hadn’t let herself feel anything. Just hate. So much hate.

She felt so raw in his presence. Like an open wound long cauterized, but never cleaned. Infected. Rotten. Worming through her like a plague for so long.

Then he came along. Laid her bare. Gently coursed through her systems to fight that rot. It hurt. A lot. But when it was done, she felt so free. 

They were an ancient deity. And they cared about her. They- they did. She just knew it.

He meant so many things for so many reasons.

Why couldn’t she help him build this bridge? Why could she only watch as he fought to traverse her wall of fire? Would she be able to catch him, should he fall into the rift between them?

Come on, Arti. Lay some bricks down.

She reached slowly out to him, to pull herself closer. Let his sleeping form be her blanket.

He stirred, and she recoiled.

His eye flickered open, glinting in brilliant ocean blue that soothed her soul. Then closed again.

“… Morning, Arti.” He mumbled, sleepily propping himself up.

“… Hey.” She glanced back at the door as she sat up with him. It was still locked up. “I, uhm… think it’ll be a little longer till cycle starts…”

“Ah. Explains my grogginess.” He acknowledged, rubbing his eye. “Suppose I’ll lay back down. How’s your wound?”

She tentatively laid down as well next to him. “… Sore.” She answered.

“Okay.” He affirmed.

They were quiet for a bit.

“… Sorry about the eye.” Saint apologized quietly, rolling over to face her. “I know they can be… disturbing.”

“No, no, I…” She replied, rolling as well. “… I, uhm… think they’re pretty…” She mumbled. “…cool. Pretty cool.”

Oh god. She said that out loud, didn’t she?

“… oh, I- um… th- thank you.” He stammered.

She gave the slightest nod and quickly rolled over, hoping he wouldn’t notice the shade of red around her cheeks changing.

The silence was deafening.

The shelter rumbled as its locks began to open.

“… Again, thank you.” Saint said as he sat up, still clearly frazzled but more composed. “I- I do appreciate the compliment.”

Her addition did not convince him. She had looked Saint in the eye and told him his eyes were pretty. Hellfire, why…

“…mmhm.” She mumbled, sitting up. “… Let’s go.”

Well. That was certainly a fun morning.

Saint was not prepared for that, put bluntly. He knew he was perfectly susceptible to his elegant, formal demeanor falling apart given proper affection. He was not aware that class of affection included being told his eyes were pretty. His heart was still racing as they walked across the crumbling citadel bridges.

It made him wonder what it would be life if they… properly united in a closer way. Saint tried not to fantasize when so early on in a relationship, but the scenarios appeared nonetheless. He repeatedly tried to get the idea of holding her hand to leave his mind.

He choked back the urge to giggle like a snickering child. Void, the irony was crushing.

The Artificer had stopped walking. He shook himself out of his self indulgence and moved back to her.

She was standing, looking back at the grave.

He stood solemnly by her side, waiting.

She sighed.

She turned away from the fallen god and began walking again.

After a brief and uneventful travel through the shattered cathedral, they were heading through the gate to the factories. The Artificer had clearly already stripped the awkward morning events from her mind, though Saint could still feel them nagging at him.

“… How’s the wound?” Saint asked her as they walked through the winding factory. “Apologies, I know I asked already, but since we’ve been walking for a bit.”

“… Fine.” She answered. “Sore still. But fine.”

Saint nodded. “Try not to overexert yourself today.”

“… I mean, I’ll try, but…” She looked around the various pipes, tunnels, gaps and halls. “… We’re in the industrial complex. Everything wants us dead.”

Saint exhaled thoughtfully. “Hm… perhaps you can find a spear somewhere? That way you can avoid a wrestling match.”

She nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that… works. I’ll grab one.”

She picked up a stray piece of rebar and gnawed on it’s end, placing a glob of red just behind the point. Then she bit down and pulled away, stretching a fuse of similar material out so it resembled a scavenger’s explosive spear.

“… If I might ask, Artificer, why don’t you carry a spear?” He asked her as they walked. “More often, at least, to avoid fighting unarmed.”

She got that look of shame again and averted her gaze for a moment, swallowing nervously.

“It’s… hard to explain, and…” She sighed. “… A little stupid.”

“I doubt it’s the latter.” Saint assured her. “But, you don’t have to answer.”

“… I guess it just makes me… feel less violent...” She sighed. “And it makes it easier to… stay peaceful with the scavs…”

Saint nodded solemnly.

“… I understand.” Saint said after a moment. “I won’t force you to stay armed, even now, if you’d like.”

“No, no…” She murmured. “You’re right. I’ll just… stay alert.” She looked away for a moment. “… You’ll… keep me in check if the scavs come, right…?”

“I will do all I can.” He assured her.

 “… Thanks.”

They traveled in silence for a little while. Saint suggested they climb a spire to find their bearings, and they adjusted course adequately. As they moved into the complex proper, life became much more prevalent, scampering around and fighting with other predators. The two’s travel across the faculties became much tenser.

“… Hear that cyan lizard?” The Artificer asked, crouched low as she looked around the area.

“… No, but I am glad you did.” Saint answered.

“Good. S’to our right. Decent bit away.” She elaborated. She looked away from the source for any more threats. Saint idly reminded himself her right ear was not perfect.

Saint heard a digitized discharge of energy, rather close to their right.

The Artificer began to shout a curse and turn right as the reptile tackled her, its charge of energy knocking Saint from his feet. He heard a blast from the Artificer as he got to his feet and regained his bearings.

The lizard was in between him and his companion, vibrant blue markings glinting and shimmering with electrical energy. The Artificer’s spear was beneath its foot.

The beast kicked the spear behind it and shot towards her with vigor. Another crack rang out as she flipped over its charge and dove for the weapon. The lizard turned and launched back, kicking it away. The reptile was aggravatingly smart.

The reptile steadied away from them, prowling along the snow-covered steel with the spear beneath it, growling. The Artificer steadied; a hand clutched to her injured side. They held at a standstill for a moment.

Saint had an idea.

He dropped to all fours and bounded towards the sapphire beast in a slight zig-zag. He saw it preparing to launch and dodged sideways. Then he looked up, stuck his tongue to the ceiling and flipped gracefully around the lizard’s attempt to redirect.

Saint danced through the air with the predator bouncing behind him, determined to make a meal of the slugcat. He hoped the Artificer had gotten the memo and started towards her spear.

He swung in an arc past another charge, then dropped from the ceiling when it leapt from the wall, causing it to launch over him as he rolled. He leapt back up, grappled again, it shot beneath him. He glanced back, expecting to see it preparing to give further chase.

It looked away from him and launched across the room. He followed its path to find the Artificer with her spear readied. The lizard rocketed around the room in an unpredictable zigzag of motion, too erratic for her to predict. It was almost upon her, she pulled back her arm in preparation…

The lizard tackled her again, the spear rolling away with a remarkably frustrating series of clinks.

Saint swung across the room to the weapon as the Artificer rolled with the lizard. She used the momentum to kick it off of her and into a nearby structure, a newly made set of gashes in it’s midsection from her claws. It hissed in a digitized, electrical buzz and stared at her.

Saint hit the ground with a roll, briefly fumbling to pick up the spear succeeding. He looked back to the Artificer to see the lizard rocketing past her. He leapt back into the air, swinging across as the lizard tried to determine which slugcat to attack.

The Artificer seemed to have a plan, as she was seemingly trying to put Saint between her and the lizard. That plan would likely involve Saint being used as bait for a charge, which wasn’t exactly preferable, but he’d have to make do.

The reptile rocketed past him, the Artificer blasted beneath him. Repeat as he dropped and rolled to the ground. He tossed the spear to her and turned to face the lizard as it revved another charge, grappled back up to the ceiling, and…

The spear lodged itself directly in the sapphire’s open mouth, piercing its throat. It tumbled into a heap not far from the Artificer, and promptly detonated.

Finally, stillness.

The Saint dropped from the ceiling and bounded over to the Artificer, stilling in a place prepared to catch her should she fall. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah.” She dismissed, waving him off. One hand was placed on her side. “Just hurts. Bastard…”

Saint relaxed and gave her some space. “Alright. Just be light on that side.” He looked to the broken remains of the cyan lizard. A significant section of its lower jaw was missing. “… Is that a sufficient- or rather, even acceptable meal?”

“Eh. I’ve eaten more charred shit.” She said with a shrug.

After she’d made a meal of the lizard, they set out again. The Artificer made another spear in case something else decided to give a shot at making a meal of them. While Saint generally unabashed, the Artificer seemed to have something about the fight stick in her mind.

She glanced over to Saint a few times, as well as her wound. Her hand had fallen from the now somewhat scratched bandages. She seemed conflicted.

“… Saint, did I… thank you for patching me up…?” The Artificer asked through the silence.

He shrugged. “Perhaps. The thanks is implied, I assure you.”

“… Okay.” She replied. “… Thank you. For… doing that.”

Saint chuckled a little. “You’re welcome.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“… I feel like I should say more than that.” She said, traces of indignation in her voice. “You- It could’ve been way more of a problem if you… didn’t help.”  

Saint looked to her and tilted his head. “Really? You said yourself, you’ve been through worse, and likely with worse care.”

“Okay, well, that was said by an idiot.” She retorted. “I’m not- immune to getting infections, or bleeding out, or all that other shit. I’m just- dumb enough to ignore think all my fighting makes me invincible.”

“Hey.” Saint said gently. “Don’t speak like that.”

“You got a way to prove me wrong?” She asked incredulously.

“That is irrelevant.” Saint replied. “It is unhelpful language. Yes, that type of recklessness is ignorant, but nothing is achieved by saying that. And, might I add, your cycles of combat clearly gives your body experience in healing. Most don’t walk the day after a king vulture nearly impales them.”

“What do you want me to say then?!” She asked, raising her voice in annoyance. “Just-?!”

“Arti.” Saint interjected firmly. “Please stop yelling.”

“Why?!”

“Because you don’t like yelling at me.” He said simply.

She stared at him for a moment.

Her anger dissolved and she looked away with a disgruntled sigh.

“… you seeing why I’m not optimistic about the whole “being better” thing?” She mumbled.

The Saint gave a sigh as well. “… I know it seems hopeless. You are entrenched in hate and pain long suffered, and the hard part of freeing yourself is… well, it just takes time.”

She seemed unconvinced, if not further dejected.

“I hope it helps to know you are improving.” Saint added. “You are changing for the better. You are less angry, more open. I do truly enjoy my time with you.”

She looked at the ground for a moment.

“… So… what, you’re just saying it’ll… get better?” She asked, glancing up at him. “Just cause?”

“… Simplified, but yes.” He confirmed.

“Why?”

“Because that is not who you are, Artificer.” He answered. “You are not hateful, or sadistic, or arrogant. You are a complicated, perhaps emotionally unbalanced, individual who underwent significant pain.”

She looked at the snow beneath her feet.

Saint thought for a moment.

“… If I might ask… what was that pain that motivated your war?” He inquired gently. “Coming to terms with it is… really, the best you can do to change.”

She was quiet.

“You don’t have to answer.” He assured her softly. “Just think of it.”

“… I didn’t have a reason, Saint.” She muttered.

“… Yes, you did, Arti.” He said softly. “If you fought for the sake of it, you wouldn’t have such guilt.”

“… It wasn’t a good reason.” She said, bitterness in her voice.

“Perhaps none would be, but I imagine it is one that incites sympathy.” Saint replied.

“… It doesn’t.” She said matter of factly.

Saint thought for a moment.

They could see a spire looming above the boxy structures and connecting bridges ahead of them. They crossed over a gap leading to the desiccated ground beneath the suspended factories and kept traveling.

“… The scavengers disagree.” Saint said softly.

She perked up slightly in confusion.

“Many of them scorn you, but… a few seem to protest treating you as they do.” He elaborated. “At the toll where we found a lantern, one seemingly told the elite to cease his assault.”

She was quiet.

“… S’just… one scavenger.” She murmured.

“… When I was looking for you, before the echo, I asked a pack if they’d seen you.” He added on. “One gave me directions, and in fact… told me to keep helping you.”

She looked at the snow.

“… When we parted ways, I heard him claim that…” Saint paused a moment, unsure how to phrase it. “… He didn’t know what he’d do in your stead, given what they did to you.”

…

“… Again, you needn’t respond. Just think.”

They reached the base of the spire and began the climb up. The wind blew louder as they scaled the ascending pipes and ledges, though Saint noticed a strange warmth in the air as they clambered. The sky seemed lighter today, slight respite from the near-constant cover of grey clouds.

They reached the peak in thoughtful silence, batflies buzzing about the raised poles and flat steel roof.

The Artificer looked out across the expanse for a moment, then focused on a certain point. Saint followed her gaze to the best of his ability.

She walked over and sat down at the ledge, her spear placed idly behind her. Saint did the same.

She didn’t seem to be looking at the complex, Saint realized. The ledge they sat on looked out across the factories, away from the canopies and sky islands and to the garbage wastes.

She sighed.

She looked in a different direction, back to the industry.

“… I… think that’s the pipeyard.” She said, pointing to a specific section of pipes intertwining through the factories. “Goes under and above and all over the complex, maybe to the sky islands…?”

“My.” Saint acknowledged. “So that’s why there’s a section of pipes stretching into the canopy.”

“… So…?” The Artificer asked into the wind.

“… So, what?” Saint inquired, puzzled. 

“Oh, uh- sorry. I guess I’m just… used to you being the one guiding.” She elaborated. “So, like, is that way to shoreline good with you?” 

Saint thought for a moment, examining a specific peak in the chimney canopies.

Something seemed… off. Significant.

…

“… If I’m correct, the canopy connects to the sky islands connects to the pipeyard.” Saint noted.

“… Yeah.” She affirmed.

“… There is an echo in the chimney canopy.”

The Artificer was quiet.

“… I know you… might not be convinced yet.” Saint continued. “I understand if you don’t believe in your redemption, through karma or other means.”

“… But… perhaps you’d be willing to give it a passing try?”

She stared out into the snow for a bit.

“… I mean… no shame in trying, I guess.”

Chapter Text

A cycle had passed of the slugcats traveling through the complex, towards the canopies once connected to the fallen superstructure nearby. It was made somewhat difficult with the Artificer’s healing wound, though they had persisted through the bustle of predator and prey always scampering through the factories. They were nearing the gate.

“You are aware of the gates location, correct?” Saint asked as they crawled through yet another set of pipes.

“Mmhm.” The Artificer grunted, pushing herself around a corner. “Used to go through it all the time. S’karma three, though probably- doesn’t matter.”

“Indeed.” Saint confirmed. “I am naturally incapable of disconnecting from karma. In the ancients values, I am permanently at the tenth symbol.”

“Hm.” She acknowledged. “… Are you- not struggling back there? Feel like I’m being- crushed trying to crawl through here.”

“Not particularly.” He affirmed. “I am approximately sixty-four percent fluff by volume.”

“You’ve counted?”

“No. I have guessed.” He corrected, an amused smile in his voice.

The Artificer snorted slightly in laughter. “Funny. Tunnel ends up ahead.”

The two clambered out into open air atop the facility roofs, the Artificer stretching her arms as she stood. Saint examined the still-covered wound in her side.

“How is the wound today?” Saint asked her.

“… Fine.” She affirmed, raising her arm to look at the wrapping. “Still hurts, n’my legs a bit weak in a spot, but overall good.” 

Saint nodded. “It’d be preferable to change the bandages soon. I don’t imagine you want decayed plant matter in your bloodstream.”

“… No, not really.” She confirmed. “I’ll keep my eyes out, I guess.”

They started walking again, across the many crumbling bridges spanning various types of steel architecture. Graffiti, likely some by the scavengers, began to dot and color the walls.

“… Could trade with the scavs.” The Artificer suggested as they traveled. “For some bandages, so we don’t have to makeshift em’.” 

“With what resources, might I ask?” Saint inquired.

“I mean, I generate explosives.” She reminded him. “It’ll take some negotiating, but I think a bomb or two makes up for that price.”

“… You’re sure?” Saint asked her. “I don’t want you putting yourself in danger or discomfort.”

“… I’m sure. It’ll be fine.” She assured him. “I dunno if there are any tolls, but there should be a base somewhere.”

Saint nodded. They set out with that goal in mind, keeping their eyes out for signs of their packs or tolls.

At some point, the Artificer perked up. She stood and looked around the room for scavengers.

“They’re nearby.” She said firmly.

“Can you be that sure?” Saint inquired.

“When you fight a specific group of creatures for long enough, you start noticing stuff.” She answered, still looking around. “I can basically smell them. Don’t hear anything yet, but they’re near.”

She seemed to note a certain pattern of carvings on the wall and start forward determinedly. Saint hurried after her.

“Be careful, Arti.” Saint said gently. “You could scare them.”

She paused from her tracking.

“… Fair. Thanks.” She said, glancing back at him. “… Genuinely.”

Saint smiled at her. “You’re welcome.”

They moved a bit more through the caverns, the Artificer taking care to avoid scowling or seeming tense. Eventually, they crawled through a tunnel and into another cavern. A group of four scavengers were idling about in the room, seemingly checking for resources.

“Would you like me to do the talking?” Saint asked as they stood, a short distance away from the pack.

“… Just… try to…” She gave a sort of sigh. Then she seemed to steel herself. “… Just… be there for me, y’know? Like you… usually are.”

The phrasing made Saint’s heart flutter for… something adjacent to the usual reasons. Nonetheless, he nodded.

The Artificer approached, the Saint just behind and to her side.

“… Hello?” The Artificer asked, loud enough for the pack to hear.

A scavenger facing away from them turned to find the sound’s source. Their fur was an ashen black, with horns a slightly lighter grey. Behind a dull red vulture mask, brilliant green and blue eyes glinted.

They started as they saw the Artificer, pulling a spear from their back and pointing it at her. She raised her hands slightly in a gesture of peace.

It was still for a moment.

“… Everyone. Over here.” The scavenger ordered to their companions. Their voice was gravelly, but high enough to imply them to be female. It wasn’t unlike the Artificer’s voice.

The other three scavengers turned around. Two tensed and stepped back. One drew a spear.

“… Artificer.” The elite scavenger acknowledged.

“… yeah. That’s me.” The Artificer affirmed, a touch bitterly. “I’m here to trade.”

The scavenger stared at her for a moment.

“… Saint, right?” The elite asked, briefly gesturing to him. “Your friend?”

“… yeah. Don’t know how y’all communicate that fast, but yeah.” She confirmed. “Also unarmed.”

The elite was silent. She glanced around for a moment.

“… What’s the trade?” She asked.

“… Healing supplies.” She answered, a little uncertainly. “Like- bandages. Saint, do you- have specifics-?”

“Bandages, woven of plant fibers like batnip and popcorn stalks.” Saint specified, stepping forward. “If that is not available, standard leather or lizard or vulture skin will do.”

“Why?” Piped up a scavenger behind the elite.

“Motherfucker, use your eyes, I took a king vulture horn to the side.” The Artificer spat, raising her right arm briefly.

“The wound is covered in somewhat makeshift wrappings of popcorn stalk.” Saint added for clarification, hoping to avoid a scavenger missing the wrapping due to its coloring being similar to her skin.

The elite paused. Her vision flickered between the Artificer and the Saint for a moment. She seemed to be in deep thought.

“… Oh, and- uh… I’ll make some of your spears explosive.” The Artificer added. “That’s- that’s my side of the trade.”

The elite thought for another moment.

She muttered a curse under her breath.

“… Okay. I’ll bite.” She said. “Gonna cost you two spears, though.”

“Works for me.”

The scavenger nodded. She glanced to the most armed scavenger behind her and nodded her head to the side in a gesture to move.

“… You want me to walk my ass back to the stronghold for healing supplies for her?” The scavenger muttered in protest.

“Yes, I do, jackass. We need the firepower.” She spat back.

“Then she better be making every spear we have explosive!” They retorted.

“Do you know how a fucking trade works?” The elite hissed. “She won’t take that. Not like we have the fucking time anyway. Get moving.”  

The scavenger cursed and started away.

The intervening silence was staggeringly uncomfortable.

At some point, the scavengers lowered their weapons and merely stood, tensed.

“… Should I- like… start modifying those spears by now?” The Artificer asked tentatively.

The elite sighed. “… Sure. Whatever.” She tossed her spear haphazardly at the Artificer, which she caught and began to gnaw on.

Once the spear had been modified, she held it in her hands for a moment. She started slowly towards the scavengers.

“Just- toss me the spear for fucks sake.” The elite ordered. “Not enough time in a cycle for all this bullshit.”

The Artificer took a moment to process.

“… I- I don’t-”

The scavenger walked up, snatched the spear from her hands, took another one from her back, pressed it into the Artificer’s hands, and walked back to her pack. She placed the spear on her back and turned back to them, arms crossed. One scavenger behind her looked in disbelief, while the other nodded slowly in some form of respect.

The Artificer, again, paused for a moment.

The other scavenger returned with the bandages and got the attention of the elite. She gestured toward the slugcats with her spear. The scavenger tossed the roll of bandages to them, which Saint caught. He judged it to be woven of webbing from the insects clustered inside pinecones, plus some other things, surprisingly skillfully. He nodded to them in thanks.

The Artificer finished modifying the next spear. She paused a moment, looking around cautiously, before lightly tossing the weapon to the elite. She caught it and passed it to the nearest scavenger.

“… Thanks.” The Artificer said.

“Mmhm.” The elite acknowledged. She turned to the rest of the pack. “Let’s go.”

The scavengers funneled into a nearby tunnel and disappeared from view.

The slugcats continued on their journey, after a brief discussion of how to store the bandages. To avoid possibly lining them with explosive material and causing the Artificer to detonate once applied, she took the lantern in her stomach pouch and Saint stored the bandages.

The unique scenario with the scavengers seemed to take up the larger part of the Artificer’s mind, judging by her constant look of somewhat puzzled thought. Saint couldn’t deny the situation was intriguing. The elite seemed to hold a specific kind of… hateful, coarse empathy towards the crimson slugcat. It was like an odd, twisted mirror. And, to add, Saint was unsure if she’d ever seen a scavenger show such outward disregard of her. Not the best emotion to be treated with, but it was preferable to being feared like an unkillable force of nature. To her, at least.

“… Gate should be up there.” The Artificer remarked, pointing to a a specific, short tower extending up from the bridge they were walking along.

“That’s good.” Saint affirmed. “Are you more familiar with the canopy, perhaps?”

“Mmhm. S’where I hung around after I… left the metropolis…” She confirmed. “There’s a shelter right up from the gate, easy as can be.”

The two clambered into the strut, covered in claw marks of battling lizards. A brief climb later, a shimmy through another upward pipe, and they were at the gate.

Saint could feel his senses pinging angrily as he went through the gate. The call of the void was beginning to grow angry with his diversions.

The first room was closed off to the sky, an upward tunnel leading to the ground that made the base of the canopy. Two poles led up and out, which they each climbed.

“… Saint, have you…” The Artificer began, hanging off the pole to look down at him. “Ever been to the canopy?”

“No.” He answered. “In fact, I have never been to these facility grounds at all, before now, I might remind you.”

She nodded slowly, seeming like she was trying to figure out how to word some unpleasant news.

“Well…” She said as she started climbing again, reaching the tunnel out. “It’s kinda a mess up here. Get ready.” She disappeared into the tunnel.

“I’m sure it will be-”

The Artificer scrambled back out of the shaft right as a king vultures horn slammed straight through it, audibly breaking rusted metal and tearing electrical wires.

“… Wanna revise that?” The Artificer asked dully, staring at the spear tip inches away from her.

“… I’ll stay on guard.” Saint said, a little concerned.

She nodded. “Good. Wait a bit, this idiot’ll leave eventually.”

After a short wait (and two more horns fired through the metal ceiling), the monarch left. They climbed out, into a rectangular metal tunnel and into a shelter a little larger than usual.

The locks fell into place as the Artificer laid down. Saint asked her to wait.

“I’d like to check your wound, if you don’t mind.” Saint reminded her. He had already retrieved the scavenger’s gift from his stomach.

“Oh, yeah. Got it.” She crawled over and sat down with her wounded side facing him.

“… It’s healing nicely.” Saint noted. “Raise your arm, please. The wrappings will feel a bit odd, in advance.”

She nodded and obliged. Saint began to redress her wound.

“… Hey, uh… Thanks, by the- way.” The Artificer murmured. “For… all this.”

“… For caring for your wound?” He asked, a little puzzled.

“…Yeah.”

“… You’re welcome, though…” He replied. “You’ve already thanked me.”

“… Just a… reminder, I guess.” She mumbled.

Saint looked at her for a moment.

“… Thank you.” He said as he continued wrapping her wound. “I appreciate the care.”

After some time, he finished covering the gash. He sat up, briefly examined it, and then nodded.

“You are free to go.” He said with a smile.

“… Thanks.” She murmured.

She crawled back over to her side of the shelter and laid down. Saint did the same, pawing the ground for a moment. Though, when he laid down, he noticed an odd expression on the Artificer’s face. Something like… disgruntled longing. He’d seen something similar the last time they’d slept, as well.

“… Is something wrong?” Saint asked her.

“… no.” She said quietly. She closed her eye and readjusted. “I’m fine.” Her voice was rather convincing, though not enough for Saint.

He had a thought. A memory, of when she asked to lay closer to him after he’d cared for her wound.

He considered for a moment.

“… Would you mind if I lay closer?” Saint asked politely.

She opened her eye, quiet for a bit.

“… closer to me?” She asked. He nodded. She looked to the side for a second.

“…no.”

Saint smiled, trotted to her side and laid down, similar to how they had laid on the night of healing. He smiled contentedly and got comfortable next to her.

“Night, Arti.” He said quietly and happily. “Sleep well.”

“… Night, Saint.” She returned. “… you too.” A small kind of happy contentment lay in her voice when she said that.

Thought that made Saint want to smile wider, he knew he would likely not sleep too well.

He could feel the void pulling at him as he drifted to sleep.

The Saint opened their eyes in the blackness. A void worm hovered over them; eyes narrowed slightly in terse, formal dissatisfaction.

“… Hello. Saint, is it?” Radiated a stern, formal, bellowing voice, digitized and seemingly pitched down, but occasionally pitched up, screaming and whispering, with a thousand voices layered atop one another clashing and melding into one choral mix of sound. The voice of a void worm, spoken not in static, but in word. Radiated into the Saint’s mind.

“… Yes, it is. Greetings. I must thank you for your politeness.” The Saint said with a grateful nod.

“Don’t think my speaking of your tongue is agreeing with your claims.” The chorus sounded out.

“… Is there an addendum to that statement, or…?” Saint prompted.

“We are getting to the point.” The worm stated firmly. “You know why you are here.”

“… Well, not exactly.” Saint disagreed gently. “You are not the cycle I inhabit.”

“No, I am not. As well being an elder, if you hadn’t noticed.” The chorus added sternly.

“… Yes, that too.” Saint said, unimpressed. “So, I suppose I am being “disciplined”?”

“You are being warned.” The god-serpent corrected. “You aggravate the very space you inhabit. You mock and push off the worms complaints. You know they are young and brash.”

“Young is no excuse for a worm, my friend. Not when young is a thousand cycles.” Saint replied. “And, might I ask, what does that matter?”

“Do not play dumb with me!” The chorus bellowed, static briefly rising in the back of Saint’s mind.

“... I wasn’t aware “playing dumb” constituted not jumping straight to blasphemy.” The Saint retorted tersely. “Is that what you imply?”

“Yes, you blasted fool!” The worm roared.

“Well, then, I’ve got a complaint to the current elders of the worms!” The Saint yelled back. “Who allowed this worm to become so thoroughly arrogant that they’d leap to heresy due to a mere delay in a task that isn’t theirs?!”

“THAT IS IRRELEVANT!!” The chorus bellowed. “YOU WOULD HAVE THEM CALL UPON RUBICON FOR A MERE-!?!”

“Do not speak of her.” The undoer interjected.

“SHE- HEATHEN YOU- INSOLENT-!!!” The god-serpent roared, its anger causing its voice to occasionally cut into the cascading, crushing static that made their natural tongue.

The Saint stared for a moment. Both to let the worm process their own words and to calm their building rage.

“… Come here.” The Saint requested, though it was more of an order. The worms eyes zipped over to them through no will of their own.

They opened their eyes and stared into the worms.

“I want to be incredibly clear.” They said tersely. “I will not abandon her. I will not do my task with pragmatism or whatever you claim to be efficient. And you will not refer to her in any capacity if you’d like to speak on matters that are not your concern. Are we clear?”

“YOU THINK YOU CAN-?!”

“This meeting is over.”

The Saint snapped their fingers and broke themself from the dream.

Chapter Text

Saint slept naturally for a while.

Until something began to tug at him. A voice in the edges of his unconscious mind.

Loud. Panicked. Someone was shaking him.

Saint jolted awake, the Artificer’s shaking and shouting yanking him roughly out of sleep.

“Oh, thank hell!” The Artificer exclaimed. “Take this! Get moving!”

The lantern they’d stored was pressed into his hands. His panicked senses scrambling for purchase as he tried to gain his bearings. Cold. Loud. Howling, of… the wind. Why? Wow, it was cold. The Artificer was leaving. She seemed panicked. Void, why is it so cold?!

“Come on, Saint, we have to move!” The Artificer yelled.

He stood up hurriedly, though his legs were a bit weak, for whatever reason. “Arti, what- what is going on?!”

“The shelter broke!” She yelled worriedly. “Fucks sake, you’re halfway purple!”

Saint looked at his own fur. It was indeed a pale shade of purple.

Shelter failure.

Realization crossed his face. The Artificer took that as sign he was ready to go and darted out of the shelter.

“A-Arti, wait!” He yelled, his teeth beginning to chatter as his body realized it was freezing. He caught up to her right before she left the tunnel to the shelter and took her hand.

“What?!” She yelled. “We don’t have time, you’ll freeze in this-!”

“Arti!” Saint yelled firmly. “Its okay. Deep breath.”

“You’re dying-!”

“I will warm up in here.” Saint assured her quickly. “We need to take a moment to plan and recuperate. Deep. Breath.”

The Artificer looked worriedly around for a moment.

She did her best to take a deep breath.

“Its okay. I’m okay.” Saint assured her softly. “My furs already white again, see?”

She took another breath.

“… Okay. Yeah. I’m fine.” She said. “… Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You were worried about me.” He said with a nod. “Sit down. Huddle close if you’d like to speed up the heating process, but you don’t need to.”

Saint sat them down on a small metal ledge in the tunnel and clutched the lantern close. He was shivering now, though the trembles were already slowing. Sleep and the void had briefly left him too unaware to combat the cold. He would warm up soon.

“… Now. You know the way to another shelter?” Saint asked, the wind howling outside coming into focus in his ears.

“… Yeah.” She confirmed. “Not far.”

“Good.”

“… If it’s warm, can’t we just… wait it out?” She asked after a moment.

“Unfortunately, no. The cold will seep in eventually, through stillness and time. It’s safer to brave the ice and find new safety.” He explained. “Once I’m warm, we’ll set out with as much speed as we can find.”

She sighed and nodded.

Saint clutched the lantern close to himself and waited. At some point, the Artificer scooted a little closer to him.

“… Hope I’m warm enough…” She mumbled quietly.

“Well enough, Arti. Thank you.” He said with a soft smile. “I appreciate it.”

She looked a little away from him.

…

The Saint’s fur was now a shade of pale green. He waited a bit more to assure he had gotten as warm as he could.

“… Alright.” He said. “I’m good. Are you ready to go?”

“… As ready as I can be.” She confirmed.

Saint nodded and stood. The two walked to the tunnel exit, feeling the chill biting at them.

“… Find your strength.” He said, preparing himself. “I’ll go first, so by the time I’ve regained my senses, you’ll be prepared to guide us. Sound good?”

“… Sure.” She said uncertainly.

“… Don’t die.” She added.

“I won’t.”

Saint looked back to the entrance and took a breath.

He pulled himself through the tunnel and out into white death.

Snow and ice struck him like buckshot and scattered his senses across the snow. Wind crushed him back against the rock and steel as cold collapsed into his fur. He tumbled down the small hill, his mind failing. White death, black oblivion. He was reduced to nothing at all, just for a moment. Dissolved.

Lost in time.

A mere echo.

“SAINT!”

He reformed from the nothingness at the sound of her voice.

The lantern was in his hand. He stumbled to his feet as she stood ahead, fear spread across her face.

He bounded through the storm to meet her.

The slugcats raced through struts, tunnels and collapsed support structures for the canopy above. Wind raced at random like a rivers rapids, crushing back and forcing movement to a crawl, then swapping in a moment and nearly sending them tumbling. Life was nowhere to be found in the blizzard. Just rusted steel, bent and twisted from the tirade of ice.

Saint was already freezing, his fur a shade not far from snow-white. His legs were weakening. The Artificer raced through a tunnel at the base of one of the pillars, and he followed as quick as he could.

Inside now, though wind was still getting in somewhere. And the lantern he held was not about to warm him in time.

“Arti!” He yelled to her. “Is the shelter close?!”

“Yeah!” She shouted back. “Just ahead!”

She raced through another tunnel as Saint crested a mound of scrap, the wind from a gap above finally pushing rather than pulling him. He shot through the pipe.

Another pillar, the ceiling giving way in the middle to a large upward shaft. Over another mound of scrap, the Artificer was glancing around a wall of pipes.

There was no shelter symbol carved into it.

“No. No. Fuck.” She muttered. She stuck her head into one tunnel, then recoiled. Then she jumped into one and froze again.

She shoved herself out and tore an inch-deep scratch into the wall.

“It’s fucking COLLAPSED!” She shouted. 

Saint stood still for a moment in pure bewilderment, seeping into fear. 

What now? 

The Artificer growled angrily through gritted teeth and punched the wall. 

“FUCK!!” She swore, racing past him. “FOLLOW ME!!”

She shot past him back up the scrap mound, scampered up a pole and leaped to a ledge near the ceiling. She then wriggled into a tunnel and surfaced in the upper shaft of the room.

“GET TO IT, SAINT! WE HAVE TO MOVE!” She yelled down. Then she leaped to a poll in the middle of the shaft and began to climb up it.

“Artificer, wait!” He yelled, grappling after her. Through some burst of panicked energy, she’d reached the top of the pillar when Saint caught up.

“Artificer!” He repeated firmly, landing on a small ledge behind her. She looked back to him.

“What?!” She asked.

“Slow. Down.” He said. “We need to plan.”

“We don’t have-!”

”Arti!” He yelled, taking her hands in his. 

She jolted back a touch from his volume. He felt a small pang of guilt in his chest.

”… It’s alright. I’m okay.” He said gently.

“… B- But you’ll…” She stammered.

“It is warm enough in here.” He assured her. “I will be okay.”

Panic dissolved out of her.

“… Sorry, I’m… being stupid.” She mumbled.

“You are panicking because you care about me.” He corrected. “Don’t scorn yourself.”

“… okay.” She said quietly.

“Good. I… am sorry for my outburst.” He began. “This is no longer a race. I assume the next shelter is far?”

“… Kinda.” She confirmed. “Its not an easy climb.”

He nodded. “I cannot afford to simply race through the storm. We can survive if we keep with short bursts in the cold.”

“… How?”

“Alcoves, interiors, the like.” He answered. “Shields from the wind and storm. With the lantern, and you if needed, I will be able to stay warm enough.”

“… Okay.” She affirmed, more composed and hopeful.

“…Lastly.” He added.

He searched for a way to say the next part.

“… I… I know it will seem dire. I know, after some time, that it will seem like I am dying. But I need you not to panic.”

She paused for a moment.

She began to look away.

“Hey.” He said gently, putting his hand on her cheek and pulling her gaze back to him. “You’ve been through worse. I know you can do this.”

…

Determination settled into her expression.

“… Okay.”

Saint smiled. “Good.”

They took another moment to steel themselves and plan.

They set back out into the blizzard.

The first scamper was across struts connected with smaller canopies, slowly rising as they moved through support structures and in and out of beams. When they stopped within another pillar, Saint’s fur was snow-white again.

“You alright?” The Artificer asked.

“Y-yes.” He confirmed, his teeth chattering just slightly. “Just a moment.”

The cold was beginning to sink into his skin, leaving slower, weakening him. Had they stayed on ground, the blizzard might have stayed the same. Maybe even lessened. Though as they rose, the wind and ice only fought him harder.

Out into the cold. Climbing up the side of a pillar through poles and overhangs, ledges and collapsed entrances in. The wind forced them back, cutting into the Saint’s skin like knives. A leap to another pillar, his grip around the lantern tightening as proper weakness began setting into his limbs.

The Artificer clawed her way up above him, glancing back consistently to assure he was safe. Her systems were more than capable of fighting the cold. His were not.

Into another internal section of a pillar. A moment of rest. He was shivering now, his fur’s shade darkening. He crouched and held the lantern close, the Artificer huddling close to him as well.

“Stay with me.” She said quietly. “Come on.”

“Y-yes, yes, I- I’m h-here…” He chattered. “I’m ok-okay…”

It was difficult to believe himself when he said that.

They waited for some time. The slightest shade of pale green seeped into his fur. Nothing more.

Out again. Clambering, grappling, climbing. Clutching the lantern like it were his own heart. His extremities were entirely numb, his blood retreating from the horrible chill. He knew the feeling.

In the void, one’s hands dissolve first.

The wind howled as flecks of ice bit into him like individual fangs. His legs struggled to fight the wind. He thanked fate each time he could use his tongue, though it often came with ascension upward. With further cold.

“A-Artificer!” He yelled through the wind, trembling. “N-need- w-warmth!”

“There’s nowhere to fucking go!” She shouted back.

Saint gritted his teeth and kept on. Through the structures, atop the canopies. At one point, they had to leap across a massive gap to a lower pillar to continue. The landing seemed to break pieces of him as if they were encased in ice, though he sustained no actual damage.

Scrambling inside. Wind still howling in his ears as he shook with cold. He couldn’t feel the lantern in his hands. He curled up with the small source of heat and trembled, the Artificer sitting near. His fur was beginning to seem purplish.

“It’ll be okay, Saint, stay with me…” She whispered worriedly. “We’re getting closer, I promise.”

“H-h-how c-close…?” He managed.

“… Close enough.” She answered. Saint could hear the half-truth in her voice, the fear.

Shaking on the ground, clinging to warmth. To connection. Don’t let me dissolve, he pleaded. So close, yet so far.

His fur turned back to a lighter white, the dull warmth finally seeping just slightly into the palms of his hands. Still shivering, still chattering. He couldn’t get any warmer.

Further climb. Up, up, up, wind howling evermore. Ice rent him to pieces as shivers wracked his form. Fur darkening rapidly. Climbing up a pillar, grappling.

His tongue slipped.

He dropped from the wall. Falling. Into the black- no, white void. The Artificer shouts. A gap, a crumbling divot in the side. A ledge, he could grab! Hands not free. Hands are not at all. Scrambling for purchase, finding none. Sliding out. Can’t fall, won’t be able to get back up.

The Artificer caught his wrist.

Something was wrong. She was pulling him up, but…

He’d dropped the lantern.

Grappling again. Clawing, climbing, scrambling. Atop some canopies again, dissolving in the force. No warmth. The Artificer ahead of him, fighting and blocking some of the wind for him. Dissolving, disintegrating. Crushing force, tossing him around. Cold, so, so, cold. Fur was black. Endless black.

Pulled into another interior. An alcove. Still cold. Collapsed, no heat. No warmth, lantern gone. Cold. So cold. The void was cold. God, the void was so cold…

“Saint! Stay with me!”

She was hugging him.

Holding his trembling form, her back to the small opening to the outside. Shielding him. Wrapped around him. Warming him. Holding him.

“I’m here. I’m here. Come on, stay with me.” She continued. “Hey. Look at me. Saint.”

He looked up. Into her eyes.

“We’re almost there.” She said firmly, her eyes burning with determined fire. “You. Are not. Dying.”

It was more of a command. Saint’s heart did a little flip.

…

The Saint began to giggle.

He could feel the Artificer’s concerned and puzzled gaze on him as he failed to keep his heart’s giddiness at bay.

“L-lack of I-i-inhibition…” He giggled to himself. “M-middling h-hypothermia…”

“… No, Saint, please stay with me.” She pleaded softly.

“N-not d-dying…” He chattered. “D-d-delirious … hehe…”

She seemed to think for a moment.

“… You’ll be fine.” She muttered. “… You’ll be fine.” She repeated, more of an order this time.

A giddy smile spread across his face. He continued to giggle as she warmed him.

The cold receded slightly. With it, the delirium.

Dissolving, but…

She held him together.

Kept him whole. Made him whole.

“…th-th-thank y-you, a-arti…” He managed.

“You’re welcome, fuzzy.” She replied. “I won’t let you freeze.”

He curled closer into her embrace, snuggling into her warmth.

…

His fur was a pale white-purple.

Still trembling, still chattering, but…

They had to go on.

Back in the storm. Climbing up the poles, up a spire. Shivering more, more. The Artificer constantly glancing back to assure he was still on his feet. Reaching a canopy.

Dissolving. Dissipating.

No. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t in the void. He was with her. 

Stay awake, Saint. Stay. Up.

Weakening. Climbing, walking.

“Just up ahead!” The Artificer’s voice shouted through the wind. “Right there!”

Pushing through the wind. Through the biting ice. Through the cold.

Fur is blackening. Rapidly. Legs weak.

So weak. Too weak. Too small, meaningless.

He fell. Collapsed, unable to fight the worms rushing by.  

Dissolving. Tossed around. Gods are screaming.

“Come on, Saint!”

She pulled him to his feet and supported him as they walked.

Reforming. Whole.

“Almost there! C’mon!”

Warmth, so close. In more ways than one.

Stay up. Stay awake…

So cold. So loud. 

Hands are numb. Hands are stained in the blood of a god. 

He could see it now. The great serpent’s form, looking down at him. Not scornful, not malignant, not malicious. Just confused. Scared. 

They could almost feel their hand raising, feel the sacred symbol forming behind them. 

Feel the poor creature’s scream radiate through them as its light went dark. 

The Artificer tossed him through the entrance tunnel like a log into a fire, and he collapsed in a heap in the corner. He heard the Artificer throw herself through, tumble into the wall, stumble to her feet and essentially punch the locking button.

She dove onto him in a hug as the locks rumbled in. To keep him warm, keep him safe. She could not speak, only clutch him tight, and pray that the cold wouldn’t take him. Pray that her warmth would take its hold.

Keep him warm, keep him safe. Stay with me, Saint. Please.

…

Agonizingly, slowly, the ice retreated from his veins.

Saint noticed he was a bit uncomfortable, though… not from the cold, even if it was exceptionally unpleasant. It was something else. What was it…?

“… c-c-can’t b-breath…” He chattered, the Artificer restricting his breath from how tightly she clutched him.

“What?!” She yelped, recoiling. “No, no, no, that’s- cold can’t do that, Saint, you-”

“N-no…” He mumbled. “H-hug t-too t-tight… p-p-please r-resume…”

“… What?”

He weakly sat up enough to wrap his arms around her and try to pull her back down. He did not succeed, naturally.

“H-hug… a-again…” He repeated. “P-please… s-so c-c-cold…”

She got the memo and laid back down, once again curling around him and clutching him tight.

“Sorry, sorry…” She apologized quietly. “It’ll be okay, I’ll keep you warm…”

“V-void…” He mumbled absentmindedly into her. “C-c-cold… al-alone…”

“You’re not alone, Saint.” She said firmly, further tightening her hug. “It’s alright. I gotcha.”

He was still so afraid. So cold. In shambles on the ground, struggling to keep himself in reality. He clung to her words like they kept him alive, pressed himself desperately into her warmth. Burying his head into her chest, trembling like a child, seeking respite from the ice in his blood. Pleading for further care. For connection to the real. For affection.

”P-please… h-hold m-me t-tighter…” He stammered, barely aware enough to differentiate what he said internally and externally. A part of him shuddered within the ice at such a vulnerable request. 

She pressed him into herself without a moments hesitation. He felt her claws lightly press into his fur as she compressed him in her embrace. Holding him together. Holding him.

“Shh…” The Artificer whispered. “It’s alright, I’m here…”

Her hushed voice was a unique sound. The gravel was gone, the harshness turned to gentleness, whispering, almost melodious. Like a song sung by a snake, a snake that coiled not with malice, but with care. A snake that wished it could remove it’s fangs.

The voice of someone who cared about him.

“There we go… it’s okay…” She continued to whisper as his panicked need for comfort receded.

He continued to shiver in her embrace, soaking in the comfort. Soaking in her warmth. External and internal, the dull heat that her skin gave and the heat in his chest at her touch. His shaking, half-numb hand traced the scar on her ribs, its lower half still covered by the bandages for the wound on her other side. Let the coarse texture remind him of her, fill his mind with her existence, with her closeness. An anchor to the real.

“… Sorry, I’m… not a good hugger.” She mumbled quietly, noticing his touch against her oddly textured skin. She held him a little less tightly now.

Saint’s frozen mind took a moment to process the conflicting opinions.

“… N-no…” He denied. “S-so warm… c-close… s-safe…”

She paused for a moment.

”… S-safe…” He repeated.

“…Yeah.” She said softly as she held him snug. “… Void can’t hurt you.”

He lay curled in her embrace as his shivers and trembles receded. His fur was regaining a pale shade of green. Part of him yearned for more. For her to clutch him tighter, without the slight discomfort his now de-thawed mind could notice. To melt into her arms and nuzzle her, to hear her hushed, caring voice once more, to drift into sleep as she gently showered him in affection.

Maybe one day.

Some time passed.

“… thank you, Arti…”

He was finally able to keep his teeth from chattering, though still shivering slightly. His fur was a greenish-white. He basked in her warmth, in the safety she provided him, now well enough not to need it, but still so thoroughly grateful.

“… I-I’d like to be elegant and all, but void, I- I really needed that…”

“… S’nothing.” She pushed off. “Just keeping you alive.”

“No, more than that.” He said, looking up at her. “Your words, they… they keep me together. Make me feel safe. And… centered. Real. Like I’m… not this. This… echo of a being.”

“Hey.” She chastised lightly. “You’re just as much a person as me. After all this, I’m- I know that.”

He paused a moment, then sighed.

“… I almost believe you.” He said sorrowfully.

She snorted slightly. “Rude. Look at me.” She pulled his chin up so his closed eyes faced hers. “You’re just a person. You came from a weird place, you do weird things, sure. But, fucks sake, I salivate explosives. This world’s full of- terrifying, biomechanical monsters cuz of the ancients, and even more- regular-bio- stuff, just cause!”

“The cycle put us here for the same reason. Its just a little… hyper focused on you.”  

The Saint stared into her eyes in thoughtful awe. Her hand was still on his chin.

He blinked.

As in, opened and shut his eyes once more, in pure mesmerized wonder.

“Got the gist?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I- I…” He stammered. “…yeah, I… I think I do.”

“Good.” She said softly. “Now turn that fuzzy head of yours off for once, I ain’t got any more poetics in me.”

He chuckled at her joke. She gave a small smile.

She briefly looked around, then gave a small sigh. Though when she looked back to him, her slight smile was still there.

“… Alright. All warmed up?” She asked him.

His fur was green once more, his trembling finally ceased.

Part of him, a decent part, was sad to lose her touch. But he kept himself together with a hope that… 

… He wasn’t sure what he hoped for yet. But he did. 

“… Yeah.” He said with a soft smile.

“Okay.” She unwrapped him from the warming hug and got up. She stepped towards the opposite side of the shelter, then paused.

She rolled her eyes and turned back. She plopped down on the floor beside him with a sigh.

“Cycle hasn’t even fucken started…” She groaned.

Saint chuckled and got comfortable by her side as she did the same.

“See you in the morning, Arti.” He said peacefully.

“Yeah. Back atcha, fuzzy.” She returned.

She was quiet for a bit. Saint closed his mind and prepared to drift to sleep.

…

“… Hey, Saint?”

He opened his mind, one of his eyes flitting open just slightly. “Mmhm?”

“… Can I tell you something?” She asked. She was sitting up slightly.

“Yes, you may.”

“… I’m here for you, too. Like… like you are for me.” She said. She was sitting up. “And- and I don’t know if that’ll be true tomorrow, even today, if- if the voice in my head’ll let it be. But I- I swear, I… I’m trying.”

He paused in a moment of touching gratefulness.

”I- I just want you to know that I…” She looked away and searched for a word. “… I don’t hate… helping you...” 

She seemed like she wanted to say a more specific version of that statement.

“… Thank you, Arti.” He said with a soft smile. “I know. Trust me.”

She sighed and laid back down.

“… Alright.”

Saint laid back down, still reveling in the dull heat he could feel from her, and once again closed his eyes.

“Sleep well, Artificer.”

“… I’ll try.”

Chapter Text

Saint rolled over as his vision flickered open, groggy from a night of… well, you know. Not to mention a particularly annoyed serpent trying to push its way into his mind.

“… Mornin, fluffy.” The Artificer greeted, lying on her stomach with her chin placed on her crossed arms. “… All good?”

He gave a small smile as he propped himself up. “… Yes. Thank you.”

“… Yeah, no prob’.” She replied, raising a hand and leaning on her fist. “Just making sure whatever was on your mind yeste- last night wasn’t… being an issue.”

“Oh, that. I assure you, it wasn’t.” He told her. “Some short-lived delirium, and a… few unpleasant memories is all.”

She nodded and paused for a moment, staring at him.

“… Is something wrong?” He asked.

“No, no.” She assured him. She began to sit up. “Just… y’know. Thinking.”

He thought for a second.

“… I know last night was a lot.” He said. “Again, thank you for… comforting me. I… I’d say that I appreciate it, but I don’t think that conveys the value.”

“…I-” She paused, averting her gaze for a moment. “… I get it. I promise, just- just trust me.”

He, again, was quiet for a moment.

The way she said it implied that not only did she understand the value, but… but that the scenario had value to her.

“… Alright.” He affirmed. “… Shall we start the day?”

They started out into the spires. The canopy was a very different place when not scorned by the storm and turned to an icy, frozen hellscape. Long-slacked wires and rope hung between support struts and steel beams, all covered in fallen vines dotted in snow. Moss crept up the pillars, across the canopies, up the poles. Foliage, berries, all varieties of plant matter were surprisingly present in the area. An industrialist monument, turned to a haven for nature. Saint found himself smiling as he took in the view, cast in morning sunlight. 

Saint grabbed a quick snack with the help of his tongue and idly ate as they walked and climbed. The Artificer seemed to still be lost in thought.

“… H- Hey, Saint, mind if I… ask something?” She inquired into the whispering wind.

“Not at all.” He answered.

“… What’s with the-?”

She paused and tensed.

“… Something-?” Saint began.

She grabbed his hand and launched into a sprint, causing him to nearly choke on the berry he was eating. She raced to the side of the steel flat they were on, jumped down to the lower ledge and darted into the alcove-like space.

“W-wait, what’s-?!”

A vulture’s wing placed itself on the ledge and brought it’s body down to their view. It’s eyes found them and snaked into the tunnel, unable to reach further into the tight space.

“Told you this place was a shitshow.” She said, letting go of his hand.

Saint cleared his throat of the half-chewed piece of berry.

“… This would be vulture territory, I suppose.” He admitted, watching the creature wriggle and squirm, trying and failing to squeeze in.

It bonked its head against the top of the alcove, reoriented itself, and gave an annoyed squawk with a snap of its mandibles.

“Yeah! What’re you gonna do about it?!” The Artificer taunted, stepping worryingly close to the birds mouth. “You can’t get us!”

The vulture continued to snap and squirm, thumping it’s head and wings around the canopy. Almost in spite of himself, the Saint felt a little amused smile pull at the corners of his mouth.

“I could take that mask right off your face!” His companion goaded. “But I won’t, cuz it’d hurt and he-” She pointed back at Saint. “-Is here!”

Saint chuckled fully with time. Harmless fun is all it was.

She turned back to him with and rolled her eyes. Saint stifled a further chuckle as she walked back.

“Don’t know when this idiot’ll leave, so I’ll guess I’ll ask the question.” She said with a slight shrug. “What… what’s the void sea like?”

Saint’s eyes widened slightly in surprise as he tilted his head. Then he thought for a moment.

“… Well, that’s a… complicated question.” He replied. “Can you specify?”

“I… I dunno.” She mumbled. “Just… you seem to… hate it. A lot.”

Saint gave a small sigh and nodded at the ground.

“… Our avian friend has departed.” He noted, glancing up.

“… Oh, cool.” She looked from him to the outside in silent question. He walked to her side and continued to think as they again moved across the canopy.

“… It’s not the sea, in short.” Saint said after a bit. “The void does not scare me. It merely reminds me of… what I’m truly afraid of.” He examined his own hand.

“… What’s that?” Artificer asked, a touch concerned.

“… Myself.” He answered.

She didn’t seem surprised, though the explicit statement caused a touch of sorrow.

“… What I can do. What I might do.” He looked back up. “… I… It’s not in my nature to do as I am. I cannot extract the acidic emptiness from my blood, nor excise the piercing glow of my sight.”

“… But… you said you can change your form.” She mentioned.

“… Not like that.” He said with a mixture of pain and solemnity. “Those are constants. I can only mask them. Shut off my vision, fill my veins with the essence of the regular. Bind my hands and feet, restrain myself in this net. That is the only way the rest can escape.”

She was quiet.

“… I’m sorry.” He apologized quietly. “I don’t mean to… grimly soliloquize. I-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” She assured him. “You need to feel, too. I just…” She gave a small sigh and looked away. “…guess I wish I could do something about it.”

Saint’s mind caught on what was perhaps the least noticeable part of the statement.

“You need to feel, too.”

Saint had not thought of it that way.

At least… not in a long time.

“… I think you just did.” He said gently.

She perked up slightly. 

“… Hm.” She mumbled. 

The canopy ended, broken and collapsed. They moved back into the pillars and their bridges, pushing through tunnels and clambering around the ledges. Saint continued to think.

“… Does it scare you, Arti?” He asked as they stood on a pillars ledge. “… The void, I mean. It’s… only natural, considering what I’ve built it up to be.”

She gave him a somewhat surprised glance, then looked thoughtful.

“… Not… really.” She answered. “If I think about it, I remember I’ll never actually reach it, so… y’know. Just makes me wonder bout’… the echoes, and… whatever’s down there.”

She said she’d never reach it rather casually, almost fully masking the fact she was declaring herself irredeemable. It made Saint a little sad.

“… I could tell you about them.” Saint offered.

Now scanning the heights above, she paused.

“… Alright.” She affirmed with shrug and a glance. “Follow me, we’re headed this way.”

“… Where should I start?” He asked as they balanced across briefly precarious beams and long drops below.

She thought for a moment atop a pole, looking around.

“… What’s it like on the way down?” She asked.

”… Would you prefer the long or the short version?” He asked. “Or rather, how much poetic flare may I add?” 

She snorted. “Gimme the long. Knowing you, it’s gonna be confusing either way.” 

Saint chuckled at her jab. “Very well.” 

“… Ominous, at first.” He began. The two crawled into a pipe and began up another pillar shaft. “The rock fissures away and opens to subterranean caverns, although there are more than usual after the ancients industrializing.”

“Then it falls lower and lower and lower, till metal and steel cease to function as material for structure, and you get a small set of caverns. These are natural, but only in the way that they are not made by a beings hands. They simply come to be as the sea eats away the rock.”

They surfaced atop a pillar. The Artificer looked to him to continue the explanation.

“… And, to those uninformed, the ominous feelings would only rise.” He continued. “But, when you know the purpose, know them… oh, it’s beautiful.”

“… Them?” She asked.

Saint thought for a moment.

“… To be honest, I… I think it’s best kept secret.” He said. “For joy and wonder’s sake. I swear I shan’t shield you from the unpleasant truths. They are not that.”

She stared thoughtfully for a moment.

“… Do I want to know what comes after?” She asked tentatively.

“… That is your choice to make.” He answered. “But, I assure you of this. The scariest thing you will see down there is speaking to you. And he will assure that you come to no harm, physical or beyond.”

He saw a smile pull at the corners of her mouth. It made him very happy.

“… I’ll bite.” She said. “What’s next?”

Saint nodded. He briefly glanced to the path ahead. She did the same and thought for a moment.

“… Let’s find a place to chill for a sec.” She suggested. “You’ve hooked me.”

The unintended parallel to the worms was as humorous as it was… vaguely painful.

The two found an alcove in the canopies and sat down. The Artificer pulled her knees to her chest and crossed her arms on them, looking almost like a young child being told a story, even despite her usual mostly neutral expression. The image warmed his heart.

“… The rock beings to dissolve and meander.” He began once more. “A golden-black glow permeates the jagged walls as radiant golden lights fall from the ceiling to the goal below, illuminating pillars of refined, intricate stone of no definable origin. The ground sways and gives beneath your feet, and sound leaves your ears.”

She seemed thoroughly intrigued. Saint could feel a smile pulling at him, just as something a bit more grim pulled at his heart.

“… This is where the hopeful ideal begins to… fall away.”

She recoiled a bit, looking a touch puzzled.

“Strange sounds fill your ears as you reach a room beyond the eyes where rock shimmers like water. An ice-cold fluid fills the final cavern’s bottom and pools in the center, emitting this cold, loud drone” He continued. “That… is the void sea.”

He paused to find the continuing words.

“… Like, it’s just a puddle?”

Her question broke him from his thoughts and drew a laugh from his throat. Before he could apologize, she laughed as well.

“Sorry, sorry. Keep going.” She suggested, grinning slightly.

Saint smiled as well and returned to formality.

“… Then… you must swim down.” He said simply. “The cold dissipates once your head goes below the surface. The final remains of rock makes a golden curtain over the black, and while your arms and legs feel heavy as if in water, you stay perfectly dry. You cannot breath, but you no longer need to.”

She nodded, still looking captivated.

“… The curtain dissolves, and you are left with… black.” He continued. “But… it is not empty. Filling the space far below, dancing in twirls… are lights. Large ones.”

“… You continue swimming. Static rises, louder and louder, with… an unpleasant dread. The atmosphere is oppressive, unknowable and nearly hostile. For as the lights grow closer, so do these great tendrils.”

She began to look a little concerned.

“Serpents, ones large enough to bring superstructures to shame, swim in writhing patterns, undulating across the void. The lights are their heads, they give the static. You must keep swimming, through their web of pointless writhing and further down.”

“… I remind you that I’d be by your side.”

A little of her worry dissipated. She readjusted, seemingly reminding herself it was merely a story.

“… And then… you are judged.”

“And then, you are deemed worthy.”

“… And your cycle dissolves.”

His story ended, and the Artificer stared. Part of him was already regretful of telling her this, terrified he’d scared her. Perhaps he’d let his inner storyteller take a bit too much hold…

…

“… Huh.” She acknowledged. “…cool.”

She didn’t sound uncertain when she said that. Not worried. Not afraid. Just… neutral interest. Like she’d been told an odd, generally inconsequential fun fact.

“… Bit of an understatement.” Saint noted.

“Yeah.” She said, leaning back on her arms. “But like… eh, y’know? Just a story.” Despite her words, she didn’t seem convinced it was exaggeration or myth.

Saint thought for a moment.

“… I suppose that would be a snagging point on describing the indescribable.” He admitted.

“… Yeah. Think that’s it.” She agreed. “Like, it’s cool. Spooky. But… probably doesn’t get it all across, y’know?”

“… I suppose I do.” Saint affirmed.

They sat awkwardly for a moment.

A vulture flew by the entrance of their alone, noticed them, and decided to join the conversation. They silently watched it try and fail to fit in, occasionally bonking its head against the ceiling or floor in frustration.

“… You ever just… wonder how you got where you are in life?” The Artificer asked.

“… Yes.” Saint affirmed. “Though, this isn’t one of those moments.”

The Artificer nodded slowly. The vulture was still nipping and snapping at them.

A digitized release of pressure rang out beneath them, muffled somewhat.

Then another, closer.

“Oh you have to be FUCKING-!”

The Artificer launched into a sprint and preemptively pounced. A particularly brave cyan lizard, drawn by the vultures interest, launched into her and tackled the both of them back into the tunnel. The vulture tried to capture one of them, failed, and thumped its wings against the tunnel with increased anger.

Saint leapt away and pressed his back to the wall opposite the exit as his companion wrestled the beast. Part of him wanted to remind her of her healing wound, though he doubted that would be helpful.

The Artificer gained an advantage, rolled over the lizard with her claws sunk into the back of its neck, and slammed its head into the steel floor. It snarled and threw her off, tossing her towards the vulture and nearly biting off her arm in the process.

The vulture’s mandibles snapped around the Artificer’s torso. The lizard back stepped and growled at the predators, glancing around. It would only be so long before it noticed him. The Saint’s mind raced as the entire alcove shook from the vultures attempts to take off.

With a great shout of rage, the Artificer let out a blast that slammed both her and the vultures skull against the ceiling. The peak of its mask cracked and it slid out of the tunnel, unconscious. The Artificer was already diving upon the sapphire reptile before Saint heard the bird’s jets reactivate and launch it back into the sky.

The Artificer latched onto the lizard, rolled, and ended once again on its back pinning it to the ground. She slammed her claws into it’s armored skull and raked, cracking and tearing away the scaly shards. She took one of the larger shards and buried it directly in the lizards eye.

The crystal reared back with a roar of pain and slammed her against the wall. It swung around and pressed itself to the opposite wall as the Artificer got up with a snarl. The half-blind fighters growled at each other for a moment, trying to find an opportunity to gain the advantage.

Another flapping of wings, metal hitting the ceiling above.

Another vulture stuck its head through the tunnel and locked onto the brawl.

There was one difference. This one had an ornate set of horns around it’s head.

The Artificer launched over and shoved the cyan reptile towards the monarch, hoping it’d take the lizard as its prey. The first horn impaled straight through the beast’s abdomen and caused its propulsive tail to essentially explode, shoving it against the ceiling, floor, and then rocketing it out of the alcove and straight past the vulture.

The vulture locked back onto the slugcats.

The Artificer screamed through gritted teeth in rage. She crouched low and stared at the king as its second horn prepared to launch.

“ARTI!” Saint shouted, moving forward.

A mechanical thwack.

A blast flung him back against the wall.

The Artificer had caused a concussive blast right before the spear ran her through, knocking it away and tumbling uselessly to the floor. By the time Saint found his bearings, she had leapt forward and pressed her entire weight on the horn’s connecting wire, forcing the lizards cheek to the floor and pointing its horns away from the tunnel.

The Artificer prowled slowly forward, taking care to keep her feet pressing on the wire as the vulture thrashed. Saint could only imagine the hateful glare in her eyes.

Closer now. The wire tried to retract, and the horn swung up to her side. She grabbed it, waited for the mechanism to cease, and tossed the spear away. The vulture thrashed with more vigor, quickly realizing it was completely at her mercy.

It fired its other horn ineffectually into the ceiling. She was unmoved, still stepping forward and pressing the monarch’s head further and further to the ground. It slammed its body all it could, snapped its mandibles, pulled and pushed at its horns, thumped its wings against the tunnel, trying anything to escape.

The Artificer reached its head and loomed over it for a moment.

She tensed and started forward… then stopped.

Saint caught her giving him the slightest glance.

Another moment of tension.

With a snarl, she sunk her teeth into it’s mask and pulled it off, leaving small cuts and scrapes across its now-uncovered head. She stepped forward and snarled again, staring into its fearful eyes.

Still baring her teeth at it, she stepped slowly back and off of the wire.

The vultures horn whizzed back to its slot as it scrambled out of the alcove and flew away.

The slugcats decided that was more than enough action for a cycle and started towards a shelter. With a stroke of luck, they stumbled upon a popcorn plant. Saint was satisfied after about five minutes. The plant did not have any seeds left when the Artificer was done with it.

The two found a shelter, reaching ever higher heights of the towers. Saint imagined they’d find the echo next cycle.

The Artificer collapsed onto the ground with an exhausted sigh from the day and night’s events. Saint sat down, clutching his shoulders and shivering. The loss of the lantern had taken its toll on his ability to stay warm, and the stinging, howling wind only held more power over him now. But he’d survived without a heat source before. It would be alright, even if now the lost warmth felt rather unpleasant.

“Ugh….” Artificer bemoaned.

Saint gave a small chuckle at her exhaustion. “Quite-t a d-day, huh?”

She propped herself up and gave him a slightly concerned look. “… Oh, damn, you- you alright?” She asked, moving over. “Didn’t even notice you were cold…”

“N-no, I’m alright.” He assured her. “J-just chilly. Not-t as used t-to it, with the l-loss of the l-lantern.”

She looked a little conflicted for a moment.

“… Okay. I’ll just… be close.” She said, tentatively laying down by his side. “In… case you get chilly.”

She was clearly trying to find an excuse to avoid lying on opposite sides of the shelter. He considered pointing that out, hoping to help her come to terms with being a little less closed off.

Though… the excuse might not be directed at him. Perhaps she just wanted to convince herself.

“… Very well. Thank you.” Saint said softly as he laid down next to her. “Goodnight, Arti.”

“… Night Saint.” She returned. “See you tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Saint awoke with his usual amount of morning grogginess, stretching and yawning as he rolled over. He turned sleepily to the side to find his companion on her back, staring at the ceiling.

“Good morning, Arti.” He greeted.

“Mornin.” She replied with a small glance.

“… Might I ask why you’re staring at the ceiling?” He inquired.

“Oh, just… y’know.” She replied. “Thinking.”

“… You’ve been doing a lot of that recently.” He noted, sitting up a bit.

“… Mmhm.” She murmured. “Almost like someone walked up to me, grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking me around, yelling “FEEL SOMETHING!!” She recounted, gesturing vaguely at the ceiling along with it.

Saint chuckled. “Perhaps a simplification, but fair.” He agreed, smiling. “I hope you don’t dislike that fact.”

“Nah.” She said, sitting up and leaning against the wall. “Just… y’know. Thinking’s hard. S’why I didn’t do much of it for… seven-hundred somethin’ cycles.”

Saint nodded a little thoughtfully, a little solemnly. He was about to suggest they begin the day before she spoke again.

“… Don’t know how you stay sane doing so much of it.” She added.

Saint paused a moment, surprised by how thoughtful of a comment that was.

“… Eh. Anyway.” She said, standing up. “Let’s get going before the lizards find us.”

Get going, they did, setting back out into the upward climb through the gentle snowfall and whistling winds. At some point Saint mentioned the Artificer’s wound, and the fact she’d likely be able to go without the wrapping by now. She promptly tore the silk and fiber off herself with relative ease and tossed the scraps into the cloudy abyss. Thankfully, the wound was indeed healed enough to do without. Saint kept his eye on one of the canopy’s many peaks as they continued, where he presumed the echo to be.

“… Hey, Saint.” The Artificer said, climbing up a pole beneath him. “Mind if I ask another question about the whole… void thing? Wanted too before the birds came for us yesterday.”

“Yes, you may.” He replied, extending a hand to help her up. She took it, though still did most of the work clambering up beside him.

“You gotta stop trying to help me up ledges.” She noted as they left the pillar they’d been climbing. “You’re gonna either fall or crack something.”

“Well, perhaps it’s the thought that counts.” Saint responded. “What’s the question?”

“… What’s with the… big, floaty- dudes that look like… melted leviathans?”

Saint took a moment to decipher whatever that meant.

“… The echoes?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Those.” She confirmed. “Like the one up there we’re headed too.” She pointed at a spire, notably not the one Saint intended them to be headed too.

“… Might I ask how you know where it is?” He questioned.

“… Passed by it a… few times. Went up there once or twice.” She answered. “Just felt… important. Figured it out after I found another one somewhere else, but… never got to see them.”

Saint nodded. “… Very well. You ask of their creation, or their significance, or just their summary?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “All three of those sound the same to me.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll get to the point.”

The two walked across a thin set of poles and small interconnected platforms, towards the larger canopy now looming above them. An open-air climb of nothing but scaffolding was ahead, being their only way up.

“… The echoes are rather simple in conception. They are simply the result of a being who cannot ascend reaching the void sea.” He answered as they traversed the scaffold. “When a being who is… unworthy, I suppose, of ascension, they are not able to fully ascend. A haunting, dissolved ghost of their soul haunts… a place. Could be significant to them, might not. It all depends.”

She nodded as they reached the bottom of the scaffold, then looked to him to continue.

“… That is all, in a sense.” Saint said. “I do not know why they allow the raising of karma; though I have a few theories. Not much else comes of it.”

She thought for a moment, staring up at climb.

“… S’what I’d become if you ascended me.” She remarked, almost to herself.

Saint started a little at the thought.

“Artificer, I’d never-”

“I know.” She interrupted. “… Just a thought.”

Saint wondered what that thought might be beneath the words.

They began the climb up the scaffolding, towards the canopy once connected to Five Pebbles’s facility. Saint could see the collapsed god just half-obscured through the cloudy white haze. It hadn’t even occurred to him that they’d nearly reached the cloud tops.

“… What makes someone… unworthy?” The Artificer asked, hanging sideways off a pole.

Saint thought for a moment.

“… I don’t know.” Saint admitted. “I have an idea. But… karma is not a science. Not even to me.”

“… Hm.” She murmured.

The climb was precarious, shimmying across thin poles to metal islands and platforms barely large enough to hold them both at once. Batflies made themselves known, buzzing around the few hanging berries that found a haven here. The foliage had failed to overtake the canopy this high up. It would be a long time till it succeeded, so drowned in wind and cold.

The Artificer still seemed deep in thought as she walked ahead of him. He was almost worried she’d misplace her foot on the scaffold and fall.

They shimmied up another pole and perched on an island. The Artificer paused to examine the area for a stable path to take.

Saint could feel the beginnings of the haunting in the air.

“… You’ll need to eat another karma flower.” He reminded her, looking ahead as well. “To see the echo, I mean.”

“Oh, I… yeah, that.” She murmured. “… You can just grow it here, right?”

“Yes.” He affirmed. 

“Great. I’ll keep watch.” She said.

”… Here?” He asked. “I remind you I am near catatonic in meditation.” 

“You think I can’t keep us safe for five minutes?” She asked. 

He nodded in acknowledgment. “As you wish.”

Saint sat down, placing his feet together and pulling his tail inward to meditate. He let the void flow freely and fall into a meditative state.

The Artificer stared at the empty space between the scaffolding, the cloudy haze through the snowflakes. The current nothing that could turn to something rapidly.

She usually didn’t have much trouble focusing when doing stuff like this. She’d spent a lot of time waiting in her crusade. Waiting for scavengers to return to their dens so she could ambush them. Waiting for shelters to open when her nightmares kept her awake. Watching tolls burn. Waiting for the pain to go away.

She flinched.

There it was. She’d zoned out again. Thinking about… things. She looked around for something to be different, checked on Saint. Nothing.

She sighed and returned to watch duty.

Nothing changed. Naturally.

She glanced to Saint, to the small golden stem growing from the ground. It’d be a bit.

She briefly occupied herself with searching for and arming herself with a spear. But when she returned, there was nothing. And Saint was still sitting there. And the flower was barely glowing yet.

She waited. And stared.

It was mind-numbing.

She didn’t know how to feel about that fact.

She was changing. The dam was cracking, that’s for sure. She… wasn’t a killing machine anymore. Not as much of one, at least. And- and it felt good. At least she thought it did. Maybe being around Saint just felt good, but… she’d been wanting to stop being a force of nature since… metropolis. When her crusade ended, and her hope that vengeance would ease her pain was shattered.

She looked over to Saint. Sitting there peacefully, hands hovering over the developing flower. Fur swaying gently in the wind, flecks of snow falling into it and melting. His eyes, always shut, but she never had any trouble remembering what was behind them.

He was just… nice on the eyes, y’know? All soft n’ fluffy. Sitting almost perfectly still. The green of his fur like swaying grass. Not… delicate, per say, just… 

She sighed. She couldn’t describe it. 

Whatever it was, it made her want to hug him.

He… he might really be it. The way to make it all go away. All of her pain fade into the background, fade away fully if she was lucky. She could forget it all, leave her past behind. Leave… leave them behind.

It hurt to say that.

But she had to, right? That’s… that’s what healing is, right? To… make her scars fade.

Was Saint supposed to take their place?

… That couldn’t be right.

But… what else was she supposed to do?

Something latched around her foot and yanked her off the platform.

She shouted in surprise and found herself suspended in midair by her ankle, slowly moving upward. A white lizard, attached to one of the many scaffolded platforms was pulling her in.

Naturally, she swung her spear in an arc and laced a cut across it’s tongue.

Shit.

She was falling now. Pain shot through her back as she hit a horizontal pole and spun, tumbling through the air with little rhyme or reason. 

A snap of her tail and a blast and she launched back upward, flipping through the air. Her eyes raced for a place to land as she began to fall once more. Then she smacked another pole, further tumbling. She reached for a scaffold and failed, hit another horizontal pole stomach-first and likely would’ve lost a meal if she had one in her. Scrambled for the pole, failed, falling once more.

She finally snatched a horizontal strut and swung wildly across the pole, kicking her feet in attempt to find her bearings. Somehow, she’d kept her spear during the whole debacle, so she threw her elbow over the pole and pulled herself up.

She looked up, clambering fully up and bracing her feet on the pole. The white lizard was… not looking at her.

Or chasing her.

It was looking somewhere else.

Oh, don’t you fucking dare.

She launched to another pole and swung effortlessly with her momentum into another launch. Absolutely not.

She rolled onto a platform and launched again. It was stilled on the corner of a platform, readying it’s tongue. It was about to capture him.

“NO!”

She hucked her spear with all her might and fully impaled the ambush predator, back to front and into the platform it was hanging off of. It went briefly limp, its color shifting at random and multicolored blood draining from the wound. It did not fall, the spear thrown hard enough to pin it to the surface.

She stood still, one hand on the pole she’d leaped to, breathing heavily for a variety of reasons.

She gave a light snarl in the beast’s direction before glancing to Saint.

She heard a very surprised growl, then a whoosh.

A force stuck to her back and pulled her off the scaffold once again.

Several blurry seconds later she was once again suspended in midair, dangling wildly off… something as her limbs dangled beneath her. She looked up to what held her.

Now gravely wounded, still flashing colors at random, the white lizard tried to maintain it’s footing on a pole above her, still holding onto her with its tongue. Before she could process any further, it failed.

They tumbled wildly through the air for a moment before the Artificer caught a pole and was immediately nearly pulled off by the lizard’s weight. She held with all her might and barely managed to get both hands on. The beast’s tongue held steadfast on her back. Evidently, it was committed to bringing her down with it.

She tried to pull herself up, but her already tired muscles and the weight of an entire white lizard naturally prevented that.

“Let GO of me you ASSHOLE!!” She screamed down. The lizard flailed and thrashed wildly in response, forcing one of her claws off the pole.

She couldn’t use her blast. If it didn’t disconnect the lizard’s tongue, it would only doom her to tumble hell-knows-how-far down with it. Not to mention with her precariousness of using it at all in this god-forsaken canopy. But her arms were failing rapidly.

She tried again to re-grab, and failed. She tried to pull herself up, tried to kick off the lizard, try to reach around and scratch at it.

By the grace of… someone, she managed to claw at it’s tongue.

Only for it to immediately re-attach on her tail and pull her fully from the scaffold.

She tumbled through the air, at some point hitting a strut and detaching the lizard. She tried to launch and find her footing, only succeeding in slamming stomach-first onto another pole and spinning more wildly.

She was out of options.

Something caught her.

She swung for a moment, flew through the air briefly and tumbled onto a scaffolding platform with something very soft blanketing her form. And holding her very tight.

Saint had caught her.

The two marveled quietly for a moment that either of them were alive.

“… Karma flower’s ready.” The Saint said quietly.

His breath brushed the back of her neck and made her skin tingle.

…

“… I’ll let go of you now.”

She tried very hard to ignore how much she hated those words.

Saint pulled away and stood up. She paused a moment, then rolled over and propped herself up.

“… Thanks.” She said.

He briefly bowed his head. “You are welcome.”

They were silent for a moment.

“… Shall we meet the echo?”

The Saint stared up at the last of the climb. The air was given a bluish tint, little golden flakes had begun to drift down. The Artificer stared just the same. She had yet to eat the flower.

“… Everything alright?” Saint asked, looking to her.

“… Yeah.” She said. She looked down at the flower. “… Just thinking.”

She paused a moment more.

She placed the bud of the glowing energy in her mouth and bit.

She chewed for a moment. The stem dissolved as she swallowed it.

…

A look of wonder appeared in her eyes.

“… Shall we?”

“… Guess so.”

The climb was a bit of a haze. Gravity and time seemed to distort as they ascended, the leaps between gaps in the struts and beams taking far longer than the seconds they should. Shimmering golden-black petals fell from the sky and slowly replaced the snow. The wind stopped blowing.

Saint helped Artificer up a ledge. An ethereal hum began to play in their ears.

The sky itself turned blueish-gray. The hum turned to a song.

Shimmering, beaming resonances, the sound of a thousand voices, long forgotten, but still so… bound. Bound to life. By what, none may ever know. The voice of the metaphysical, the voice of the unknown.

The Artificer clambered up and pulled Saint through a gap in the struts. Her hand’s gentle warmth was almost strange in the numbing buzzes of the distortion.

And they climbed a little more, and…

There it was.

Saint stood on the final platform’s edge. The Artificer climbed the pole it held and hung off it, staring in silent awe at the haunting.

“Three of a kind, atop this perch. Perhaps here for the same purpose, the same want.” Radiated the ghost. Saint watched, marveling in the beauty of it all.

“The one unnatural, myself.” It continued. “Simply a failed escapee. I don’t really resent that anymore. The sun still rises, and it is still beautiful.”

Saint smiled. He liked when the echoes could find joy in their prisons.

“… The one of nature, our little green superior.” Resonated the dissolved life. “Born into this status, no life before nor after. I must wonder if you’d envy me, in a way.”

Saint started a little.

“… You know of me.” He remarked. The Artificer gave him a glance.

“Perhaps.” Sounded the haunting. “Assumptions come to mind after so much time. And… well, I suppose I can sense you and I are not so different.”

Saint nodded solemnly.

It was almost like looking in a mirror, watching the conjured voice’s tendrils unfurl.

It’s strange head moved gently to the Artificer.

“And of course… the topic of conversation. The man of the hour.” The radiated as their tendrils unfurled. “What are you, little beast? Which chains bind your wrists? Do any?”

The Artificer stared stoically up at it, thoughtful solemnity in her eyes as she watched its golden scales flicker, shine and fade at random.

“… Does your sun still rise, my little constant? It always did when you passed ‘neath my canopy, once, twice, dozens.” They asked. “Not in a cosmic or orbital sense, in the metaphorical. I’ve come to understand what binds me. This spot, and its sunrise. Do you understand what binds you?”

She gave it an almost cautious look.

“… I saw it, little beast.”

“Not directly. Not without my eyes, even with them. But I see, perhaps feel, the scars. The ones you left upon this canopy, its gutters, and the wastes far below. The guilt in your eyes, it is so telling. Forgive my bluntness.”

She looked firmly guarded now. Almost angry.

“… Don’t fear. I won’t reveal.” They assured her. “This is simply a preamble, after all.”

Saint could not trace the emotion in her eyes.

“… There is a… musing I once told. Long ago, to a being just like yourself. I wondered if I reminisced of this place because I cannot leave. Or if I cannot leave because I reminisce. I don’t think you are far from that state, in a sense. Though, I think your question has a correct answer.”

“I shall get to the point.”

“… Do you not reminisce of them because they are gone?”

“… Or are they truly gone because you do not reminisce?”

The Saint woke up.

… Oh… oh no.

He uncurled and sat up.

The Artificer sat across from him, leaning against the shelter’s opposite wall, arms crossed.

Saint did not know what to say.

“… Are-” He began.

“Don’t you fucking dare ask me if I’m okay.” She interjected. “Use that thousand-cycle-old brain. No. I’m not.”

Such callous reference to his curse was admittedly a bit hurtful. He shook it off.

“Arti, I understand that-”

“Do you?” She cut him off again. “Do you actually, Saint? Do you know what this is like?”

“… No, I do not.” He admitted. “… Please, do tell me. I want to help.”

She was indignantly silent for a moment.

“… What’s the point?” She asked. “What reason do I have, and don’t you dare say that you can “fix” it. Act like I can change.”

“Artificer, you can.” He said firmly. “You-”

“THEN WHY DO THEY FUCKING FOLLOW ME?!?” She roared, sudden rage driving her to her feet. “WHY CAN’T I FUCKING FORGET?!? ITS NOT ME ANYMORE, ITS JUST HOW IT IS!! I REALLY THOUGHT I COULD FINALLY MOVE THE HELL ON BEFORE THAT DIPSHIT DRAGGED IT BACK TO THE SURFACE!!”

“ITS POINTLESS!! I-!” She stopped and growled angrily, looking around in indecision.

“No. Whatever. I’m done.” She declared, sitting back down. “IM FUCKING DONE!!”

She stood once more and with a cry of rage, tore a gash into the steel wall with her claws. She shouted a curse, tore another. She raked her talons across the walls several times over until her fury ran dry, an she sat indignantly back on the ground.

“There. I’m done.” She muttered.

Saint paused for a moment.

“… Ar-”

“No.” She cut him off.

“Artificer-”

“No.” She repeated. “Not happening. Conversation over.”

Saint felt a sort of anger brew within him. He tried to speak more firmly, but she cut him off again.

“I said we’re done.” She growled. “Shut up.”

“Artificer!” Saint yelled, standing up.

“SHUT IT!” She shouted in return. “I DON’T GIVE A SHIT!!”

“I do not care if you-!”

“I AM NOT DOING THIS!” She roared, stepping forward.

Saint stepped forward as well. “And I will not allow you to-!”

“Saint, you are going to shut up or I’m going to make you.” She growled.

“How, might I ask?” He goaded.

She stepped close to him and raised her hand, claws extended.

“Your threats do not scare me.” He said firmly, stepping close as well.

“Saint.” She growled. “Shut. Up.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“… Do it.” He prompted.

“Go ahead. Rake your claws cross my throat, watch the blood of existence spill out into this shelter. You will not, I know that.”

“You don’t know who I am.” She snarled.

Saint paused a moment.

“… I don’t need to.” He said simply. “Because I trust you.”

Deep in the corners of her eyes, her expression softened just a touch.

“Not who you want to be. Not some idealized version.” He continued, now speaking not with anger or spite, but the secret in his chest. “You. Who you are. To hell with who you could be. I trust you.”  

“And I care about you, Artificer.”

It took a little effort to not replace “care” in that sentence with another word.

She was frozen in place, her claws still raised.

She looked like she was about to burst into tears. Part of him hoped she would, so he might comfort her.

She took a shaky breath…

And lowered her hand.

She stepped away and stood with her back to him.

Saint chose his words very carefully.

If he pressed too far, what would happen? Not to him, he wasn’t lying when he said he trusted her. But to her, what would it cause?

But he needed another piece of the puzzle.

“They” the echo had said. A person, or persons. Undeniably lost.

…

“… It breaks my heart to hurt you like this.” He said. “I… I wish I could be enough to make it painless, even if I know that’s impossible. But… that is merely an excuse, I suppose. I have a question for you.”

She was silent.

“… Who were they?”

The Artificer stood there, the question running through her like a plague.

She was so angry. There was no point. If fate had reminded her of them through that… damn ghost, it… it just wasn’t meant to be. She would never forget them, never move on, never heal, never be free of the pain. She wanted so badly to give up, to return to the Artificer that wandered the arrays, cold, heartless, alone, awful. 

But she couldn’t bring herself to hurt him.

So she stood, still as stone. Listening to that little voice. 

The one that sounded different. Not filled with gravel or years of screams and shouts. 

The one she used to whisper gently to him when ice had invaded his veins and snow had crushed his mind.

That voice wanted her to say something.

…

“… They… were my kids.”

Chapter Text

She was a mother.

Oh, god, she was a mother.

The scavengers, undoubtedly. But the scavengers did not kill without reason, only when provoked. So even if their death was by some act of cruelty, of pure heartlessness and hatred, she’d blame herself.

What words could convey the pain?

“… I’m sorry.” He said softly.

“… I don’t care.” She muttered. “It doesn’t bring them back. They might as well not have existed.”

“… Arti, I understand-”

“No.” She interrupted. “You got your answer.”

She started towards the shelter exit, crawled out and disappeared from his view.

“Arti, wait!” He called out, darting after her.

She did not respond. He raced to her side as she walked indignantly through the light snowdrifts of morning.

“Artificer, please, you-”

“I don’t have to do anything.” She cut him off. “I could throw myself off this cliffside and what would you be able to do about it?”

Saint started in horror at the mere idea.

What… what could he say to that?

…

He moved to her side once more.

“Artificer, please, if you may listen to one thing I say this morning, let it be this.” He said in an almost pleading tone.

“I don’t care what you have to say, Saint.” She said offhandedly. “Not anymore.”

“Please, Arti.” He began again.

“Please what, Saint?!” She said angrily, stopping and turning to him.

“Please don’t leave me.”

She froze again, like she had just minutes ago in the shelter.

“I’ll throw it aside. You don’t have to listen to me.” He continued desperately. “You don’t have to try. You don’t even have to see another echo. Just don’t leave. Don’t leave me with the knowledge I have failed you so thoroughly that I cannot even provide you some simple company.”

He looked into her eyes and watched her emotions flutter about.

He saw that softness again.

That care.

There was still hope.

“… Fine.” 

The interaction from there had little of consequence.

So they traveled across the canopy once more. To the sky islands.

Mostly in silence. Indignant, sad silence.

Saint had some time to think.

She had children. Two, likely, as she referred to them in the plural sense. And… well, he didn’t want to think about how she might’ve lost three or, void forbid, more young.

And now she was… recoiling. Regressing. Something about the echo’s reminder of her children had convinced her that any attempt at betterment was fully pointless.

He thought over her words in the morning. Her cries of anguish about her inability to forget, to move one. Did she want to forget?

“… Arti?” He asked tentatively into the whistling wind.

“What?” She said offhandedly.

“… What about the echo convinced you that… change is pointless?” He inquired.

“What part of “I’m done talking about this” do you not understand?” She spat.

Saint turned his gaze to the ground, a little hurt.

“… I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I just want to help.”

“Well you aren’t!” She yelled, rather suddenly. “All you’re doing is reminding me how- fucked everything is!”

She groaned angrily and turned away, walking with more annoyance in her step.

Her consistent anger was bitingly painful, feeling as if his heart cracked with each word. He felt like such a failure. All the progress she’d earned, all the pain he’d helped her through, thrown into the gutter. He knew it was irrational to blame himself thoroughly. That didn’t give him much comfort.

Though, within his sorrow, something helpful was sparking.

The way she treated him, with anger and annoyance, yet she did not leave. Her brief stutters, searches for words. She seemed almost pained by the sadness in his own voice.

She kept avoiding his gaze. Staring at the ground in indignation, pain, but not anger. He remembered her cries in the shelter, of anguish and grief and an inability to forget. The almost… avoidant way she treated this whole scenario.

… Oh.

The pain was too great to bear.

When it was fresh, she never grieved. She clearly never learned how to. Sobs became screams, anguish to anger. She spilt the blood of the scavengers, but never truly cried a tear for the children she lost. She cried of them, but only in rage and denial. If the scavengers took them, she’d never even get a proper goodbye.

That was why she avoided the wastes.

After so much time, so much suppression, the pain would’ve doubled.

She just wanted to forget.

And she thought she could, through his attempts to help her improve. 

The echo kept her from doing that.

He was struck with a halfway uncontrollable urge to hug her.

That was for later.

Right now, he just needed to be there for her.

The slugcats stood in the gate to the sky islands as the mechanisms churned and scraped open, the holographic projections above them dissipating and flickering. The Artificer had not spoken a word to him since their last interaction.

They stepped out of the gate room and into a bridge-like structure, a canopy of the chimneys roofed over with another. The sun illuminated the light snowfall of midday in a glimmering blanket, shining through the foliage and steel. Saint noticed a patch of dandelion puffs, picked one off it’s stem and ate it.

 “… I assume the islands are similar to the canopy?” Saint asked as they traversed the great bridge.

“… Mostly.” The Artificer mumbled. “Just got less vultures and more centiwings.”

“Centiwings are often passive, if I’m correct.” Saint noted.

“Won’t stop em’ from fucking us over.” She muttered dully.

Saint gave a small sigh and went quiet.

The sky islands were in fact, not just an extension of the canopy. Though one could be forgiven for thinking that at first glance. What began as endless bridges, half collapsed and riddled with occasional gaps slowly gave way to a complex of suspended platforms and struts. Communication arrays stretched over the islands and loomed above them, great steel towers that no longer served any purpose. Each bluster of the wind caused the spires to creak and bend, the blizzard slowly eroding away the industry of the past.

It was pretty, in is own way. As most things in the storm were. It did not assist Saint’s mood much.

The islands were about as populated as the complex, giving a sense of quickly rising and falling tension. Cyan lizards would leap from nowhere, and they’d brace for combat, before realizing the real problem was the vulture chasing said cyan lizard. Packs of orange lizards snarled from isolated islands decorated in popcorn plants. Centiwings buzzed about and revived glares from the Artificer.

They were walking through a moment of calm when another problem showed.

A pack of scavengers made themselves known ahead. Roaming around, and… scavenging for resources, as they did. An elite was among them, their mask carved into an uncanny frown and gleaming in the snow. They were on a massive central island rather than the dotted struts and fallen platforms, leaving no way around.

“… I could-”

“No.” The Artificer interjected before Saint finished his suggestion. “Its fine.”

She continued across the grassy expanse of firecracker and popcorn plants without another word. Saint suppressed a sigh as he followed.

“HEY IDIOTS!” She shouted, causing Saint to wince. “OVER HERE!”

“Arti!” Saint scolded quietly.

“What?” She asked dully, glancing at him and clearly knowing the answer.

“Wh- what do you mean, what?!” He whispered, fearful the scavengers would notice them. “You’ll upset them!”

“And I’ll win the fight if I do.” She muttered apathetically.

She turned back to the pack before Saint could protest further.

The elite had taken the front, the five others gathered behind them. Their fur was brilliant red, like most of the foliage behind and around them. A blue-tipped spear was propped by their side, buzzing and sparking with electricity.

“We’re coming through here.” She said, just loud enough for them to hear. “Move it.”

She started walking before any of them process. Most of them, including the elite filed to the side to let her pass by in the field. Saint trotted worriedly to her side, placing himself between them and her.

“Hey, wait a damn minute!” He heard a scavenger hiss as they walked up. “What the fuck are we doing?!”

“Standard goddamn protocol, you idiot.” The elite muttered. “Stand down.”

”Are you fucking with me?!” 

“Arti, maybe we should…” Saint began.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing in the islands?!” The rebel shouted to her, pushing past the elite with a spear in hand.

The Artificer looked straight past Saint as if he weren’t there, seeming thoroughly unimpressed.

“None of your business.” She replied, standing up and moving in front of Saint.

“Who’s you’re friend!?” The scavenger inquired next. His fur was solid black, eyes brilliant red with horns and mandible-like protrusions of dull white.

“None of your business.” She repeated. “Now stop talking.” She moved to keep walking.

“What, you running back to the farm arrays?!” The rebel goaded. She stopped and gave an annoyed sigh.

“Sure. Whatever.” She muttered, rolling her eyes. “Fuck off.”

The scavenger scoffed. “Yeah right. Run off like you did when we killed your fucken kids. Coward.”

The Artificer froze in place.

The air was unnervingly still.

“Artificer, don’t-!” Saint began to whisper to her.

“Shut up.” She said hollowly. She turned around and stared blankly at the scavenger, looking bored. 

“Artificer, you don’t want to do this!” He pleaded.

She ignored his protests as she walked openly toward the scavengers, unarmed, unguarded. The five behind the offending scavenger recoiled, readying weapons, but too fearful to use them. The shadowy scavenger stayed in place, though Saint could see his bravado wavering.

She reached the shadow. Hunched as he was, he was a head shorter than her. She stared dully down at him, and did nothing.

He moved to stab with his spear.

She effortlessly swiveled, grabbed the spear with both hands and struck an upward cut across his chin, knocking him to the ground. Then she whirled it around and impaled the point six inches deep through their arm and into the snow. Steel pierced flesh, carved bone, pierced flesh again. Their guttural scream of pain pierced Saint’s ears and echoed across the island for several seconds.  

She left him pinned, writhing and gasping on the ground, and started towards the elite scavenger with determination in her step. The rage was in her eyes. But her expression was naught but stone. The elite recoiled, glancing fearfully to their friend, the buzzing spear in their hand trembling within their grip.

“Artificer!” Saint shouted. “This isn’t who you want to be!”

“Give me your spear.” She ordered the elite.

“Wh- you-!” They stammered.

“Give me. Your spear.” She repeated, her voice lower and full of horrific menace.

They stumbled and stammered nothing of substance for a moment more. The Artificer leapt upon them with a snarl and carved her claws across their head, leaving their mask strewn into the now bloodied snow. They stumbled back with a cry of pain, clutching their eye, and fell backward. She picked up the electrical spear and moved back to the pinned shadow, gasping and squirming and scratching at the rebar in their arm as the wind howled in anger.

Saint felt his heart leap into his throat in horror.

“Artificer, please!” He pleaded. No response.

“You don’t want to be this person!” It was unclear if his voice even reached her ears. She reached the scavenger.

She raised the spear high above her head, point down, her expression full of fury.

“ARTIFICER!”

She slammed the spear through the scavengers stomach with a horrible discharge of blue light and a battle cry of hatred. They screamed out in agony, the horrific sound half suppressed by the buzzing of electricity.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK, HUH?!” The Artificer roared, hunched over the scavenger as they tensed and writhed with burning voltage. “IS THIS THE FACE OF A COWARD?!? DO I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING COWARD TO YOU?!?”

She yanked the spear out and slammed it down again, their scream of torture repeating and echoing through the howling wind as their muscles contorted and tensed. The Artificer again leaned close to their face. “WELL?!?! TELL ME!!!!”

The scavenger sobbed and gasped nothing of substance as their electrocution halted, coughing and shaking in the bloodied bed of snow. She stared for a moment more before again pulling the spear out and re-burying it in the scavenger's gut. Their cry this time was nothing but a gurgling, trembling sob through clenched teeth. They coughed up blood when they tried to take a breath. Their fur was singed and smoking.

The scavenger choked, gasped and sobbed out something similar to a pleading apology. They tried and failed to beg her to stop. Saint pulled his ears down to the sides of his head. It did not help.

The Artificer braced her foot against the rebar planted into her victim and broke off a section by the butt of the spear. She took the shard and slammed it through the scavenger’s throat and into the snow. Then she stomped on it to push it deeper. She stared, eye wide in fury, into their eyes as they choked on their own blood.

The gurgling and gasping ceased. She stood still as stone for a moment.

Saint stared frozen in horror.

She turned almost robotically to the remaining five scavengers. The elite had retrieved their mask and recoiled to their pack with a hand pressed to their injury. 

“GET OUT!!!” She shouted furiously at them. They scrambled and stumbled into the islands many tunnels and disappeared from view.

She stood still with her back to the corpse, breathing heavily.

Saint stared, grimacing sadly. The horror had not passed. It was only overwhelmed by the sorrow. For the lives she’d taken.

Not for her, for once.

She turned to face the corpse she’d created, mangled, bloodied, slightly smoking with electrical burns. Pierced and pinned in three places like some grotesque monument or warning.

Dullness faded from her eyes.

Her breathing began to escalate.

She fell to her knees in the snow and buried her head in her hands.

Saint walked up to the scene, still grimacing slightly.

The Artificer was not crying. She gave half-sobs, groans of anguish and hate, but no tears fell. Caught between grief and rage, remorse and… an unwillingness to feel it.

If she could not forget her children, she could not change. If she could not change, well… this.

This was the work of the Artificer from a long time ago.

He felt sorry for her. But it was more accurate he to say he simply felt horrible overall. A tragedy of horrible people doing horrible things, Saint had seen that before. And despite how committed he was to helping her, how much he truly believed she could be better… her actions had consequences. Put bluntly, comfort was not what she deserved. Not right now.

She looked up from her kneel and around. Her eyes found him.

“The fuck are you looking at?!” She spat.

Saint said nothing for a moment.

“… I imagine you’re remorseful.” He said solemnly.

“… fuck off…” She mumbled through her hands. “Aren’t you- don’t you… want to help, or- or something…?”

“… I wish I could.” He said sadly. “Take your pain and your guilt. But sometimes… feelings like that are deserved.”

Saint stepped closer and knelt by the body, the scavenger's corpse between him and her.

“You caused harm. And suffering.” He said softly, pulling the rebar from the cadaver’s throat. “Even if your reason for rage was… sympathetic to its core, even if you were provoked so cruelly… he didn’t deserve that. You know that. I… I can’t endorse this. I have no reason to comfort you, even if if that hurts me.” He pulled the remains of the electrical spear from the scavenger’s stomach, its once-shining tip of circuits gone dark from overuse. 

The Artificer recoiled further, hiding her face. It broke his heart to know his words caused it.

He tugged the final spear from its arm and examined it’s broken tip.

“…One might reason that this scavenger deserves little sympathy either.” He said, placing the spear in the snow with the rest of the scrap. “He said horrible things. He made his choices, just as you did.”

He heard her snivel a little.

Saint leaned over and gently closed the scavenger’s brilliant red eyes.

“… I’m sorry.” He said, his voice breaking. “It… breaks my heart to hurt you. But… guilt is important. It is what motivates change, more often than not. I know that well.”

He sat knelt by the corpse, its wounds almost covered by fur and snow. As long as you didn’t look at their stomach. The blood remained, in the snow, dotting their shadowy fur, on the Artificer’s skin. But with their eyes gently shut, they looked much less like they suffered as they had.

“… What matters now… is what you do next.”

Saint waited solemnly. The Artificer gave him a miserable glare through her hands, then looked away.

“… Bullshit. I’m- I’m still- whatever!” She yelled, standing angrily. “This is just-!” She searched for the words for a moment. She shook her head and looked away.

“… who I am.” She mumbled at the ground.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Saint said, standing up.

“No. Whatever.” She muttered. “I’m finding a shelter.”

Saint watched her walk walk away into the white haze.

He sighed and looked around. The red in the snow had almost disappeared. He looked out into the windswept spires for a moment for no reason in particular.

Something in his senses pinged as his eyes drifted around.

Was that… an echo?

…

He sighed and turned around. He saw the Artificer paused, looking back at him for a moment before she turned to avoid his gaze.

He trotted after her.

The two found a shelter, and another popcorn plant to make a meal of. The Artificer laid quickly down and curled up in the corner of the shelter.

Saint listened to the shelter rumble shut and thought for a moment.

He could not afford to endorse her right now. There was a very compelling argument for the idea she did not deserve to be comforted.

Would his comfort take away her guilt at all? It had not fully before.

He wasn’t sure what to do.

Tentatively, he walked to her side and laid down next to her.

“… You are complicated, Artificer.” He said softly to her back. “In cruel ways, I admit. In ways many are not.”

“… It does not change my thoughts on you. Not permanently.”

“… Goodnight, Arti.”

She did not respond that night.

Chapter Text

The Saint awoke and sat up. His companion was still curled up in the corner, facing away. She’d pulled her ears down over her head as if to block out some sound Saint couldn’t hear.

“… Good morning, Arti.” He said softly.

She tensed and turned to him, then relaxed slightly and gave a dejected look at the floor. Dark circles lay underneath her eyelids, her open one drooping slightly. She had not been sleeping.

“… I’m always here, Arti.” He reminded her. “If you need me.”

She turned further away for a moment.

She pivoted, moved for the door, and crawled out. Saint swiftly trotted to her side and matched her walking pace as she trudged through the morning snowfall.

“… stop looking at me like that.” The Artificer mumbled.

Saint paused, not fully sure what “that” was.

“… I’ll try.” He said softly. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m not.” She muttered. “Get used to it.”

He gave the snow a solemn look.

“… I’m trying to make you feel a little more okay.” Saint said. “I… hope I’m succeeding a little bit.”

“You’re not, Saint.” She muttered angrily. “You can’t. It- this… this is just me. This is all you get.”

“I’ve seen you be more than this, Artificer.” He said softly. “I’ve seen you be happier, and it’s warmed my heart. You… you don’t deserve to wallow.”

“It’s not about “deserving” it anymore, Saint.” She said firmly. “This is just it. Deal with it.”

“Nothing in this world is constant, Artificer. Even I change.” He told her. “You can. I know that.”

“I don’t care.” She muttered.

“Why not?”

“… Because it doesn’t work like that.” She said quietly.

Saint drew breath to repeat his question.

“ITS MY FUCKING KIDS, ARE YOU STUPID?!?!” She screamed, stopping and turning to him in the snow. “AS LONG AS I REMEMBER THEM, THIS IS ALL I’LL EVER FUCKING BE!! AND ITS YOUR FUCKING FAULT THAT I DO, BECAUSE YOU BROUGHT ME TO THE FUCKING ECHO!!!!”

Saint paused and stared sadly at her.

Her words stung, there was no way around that.

He saw flickers of quickly hidden remorse in her eyes.

She turned away.

…

“… Your words hurt; you know that.” Saint said quietly. “I… I just want to help, but…”

He turned away and sighed.

“… as you wish.” He said, a little dejected. “Let’s go.”

Saint began to walk again.

He still checked behind him to make sure she followed. She avoided his gaze, still unmoved.

He waited. She gave him a short glance.

She followed.

And they walked for a bit. Saint would’ve used that time to think, but he just… didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what, if anything, would pull her from this state. Perhaps that was the reason he felt so dejected. Annoyed. He wasn’t proud of how he’d expressed it, and he already wished he’d said something different. But he…

“… Saint?”

He turned to the Artificer, by his side. If there was one thing he didn’t expect, it was her speaking again.

“… Yes?”

“… Do- do you… see that?” Her tone was… off. Indiscernibly different. Maybe… scared?

He followed her gaze to the spires above and around. Nothing abnormal.

“… See what?” He asked.

“… I- I…” She mumbled. “… nevermind.”

“No, it’s alright. What is it?” He pressed, intrigued at what would dissolve her hateful and resigned attitude.

“Nothing.” She said dully. “It’s nothing.”

“… It isn’t nothing.” He rebuffed. “Describe it.”

She stared dejectedly at the dirt.

“… the sky’s… blue.” She muttered. “… like when an… echo. Shows up.”

Saint paused for a moment.

He looked back to the spires and scanned every inch, opening his mind and letting the void flow. He’d preemptively closed off his senses, resigned to her not wanting to see another echo.

But- but there it was.

That ping. The skies around him faded and distorted a duller grayish blue as the echo was allowed into his karmic being, its sheddings and petals beginning to mix with the snow.

Saint stared in awe, almost excitement, at his companion, his mouth slightly ajar in wonder.

“Do- do you see it?” He asked, stepping closer.

“It’s- not real, Saint. Don’t pretend.” She mumbled. “I know I can’t… see them.”

“No! No, no, Artificer, I have never been more truthful!” He exclaimed, taking her hands in his. “Please, do you see it?”

She looked up, cautiously confused.

“… It’s… real?”

Saint felt tremendous joy begin to tentatively creep into his heart. He darted away and snatched a falling petal from the air, the sheddings of the bygone. He moved back to her, clasped her hands again in his and held the shimmering nothing in between his fingers.

“Do you see this?” He asked urgently.

“… I… I- I don’t…” She stammered.

“Humor me.” He requested quickly. “The petal. In my hand.”

She stared at the shedding for a moment. Her gaze briefly flickered to the skies.

“… yeah.”

Saint’s eyes widened as much as they could without opening.

“Can you touch it?” He asked.

“Saint, I don’t…”

“It’s a scale of the echo. If you can touch the incorporeal, see the same as I, our souls are synced.” He explained rapidly, his voice almost a whisper yet full of hopeful urgency. “This is proof you’re truly within it’s presence. Just take it from my hands, that’s all.”

She stared at the shard with a mixture of fear, hope, bewilderment, and a million other things.

With a slightly trembling hand, she reached out…

And plucked the petal from his hands.

She held it within the tips of her claws in awe.

…

Saint turned on a heel with her hand still held tight and raced towards the spire.

He heard Artificer exclaim and stumble, but he kept pulling. They had to see it.

After some stumbling and steadying, she ran behind him for a bit.

Realization seem to strike her too.

She darted to his side, perhaps not even knowing why. The slugcats bounded towards the distortion side by side without a word.

Through tunnels of sleeping orange lizards, over centiwings curled up and unconscious, life unsynced with the presence forced into quiet. Through slowly rustling foliage as wind and snow were replaced with song and shedding. The ethereal buzz led them forward, rising slowly in volume but never peaking as the canopies had. Just gentle waves of sound, and a near-silent ticking of a clock.

They raced out of a cavern, feeling the presence directly above them. They swiveled ‘round a corner and into a pillar, climbing up as fast as they could.

And arrived.

Indistinct limbs curled, head swaying in distorted breeze, the very space around it warping. An echo, held among satellite dishes and long-dead communication towers. Endlessly repeating the voices of iterator and ancient.

They stood atop the small peak in wonder.

…

“Two little voices, chorusing in silence. Why the rush, little ones?” It pulsed in question. “I’d theorize you’ve never been privy to one such as me, but… well, that’s clearly not true, my little green friend, is it?”

Saint nodded slowly. He noticed that, somehow, he and the Artificer had begun holding hands again.

“… I suppose that’s where out discussion ends. How humorous, my terms are. Voices of the silent.” They mused, looking around and too the skies. “Not incorrect, but intriguing. All I have done for time immemorial is speak to the deaf and mute, speak of the oh-so-quiet sounds of the long dead and not yet born. Sometimes I wonder if it’s naught but the towers I reign over.”

Saint wondered if he should speak.

“… Perhaps my voice is why I could not leave.”  They wondered, looking to the stars now uncovered by their presence. “… Perhaps I was scared to lose it.”

“A silent voice, a word unsaid.”

“What does it all mean?”

Saint awoke almost with a jolt.

His senses flickered awake.

The Artificer sat nearby to him, staring at the wall.

He sat up.

“… I… I don’t get it…” The Artificer mumbled, propping herself up. “Why… why could I…?”

Saint thought for a moment.

“… The forces of karma have not abandoned you.” He said softly. “You… can still heal.”

She was silent.

“But… you have to greive.” He continued. “Despite how much it hurts.”

She stared at the ground. 

“… I… Saint, I can’t, it…” Her voice briefly broke. “I…”

Saint moved over and hugged her.

“I will be here for you.” He said softly. “For as long as you need me, and further.”

She did not return it.

She pulled away and sat knelt in front of him, looking conflicted.

“… Can you tell me about them?” Saint asked softly.

She did not meet his eyes.

“… Can we find another shelter first?” She requested. “You- y’know… eat n’ stuff…”

“… Yes.” Saint affirmed.

She held for a moment, then pulled away and stood up.

They set out. Artificer found a meal in a few squidcadas, though she seemed shameful of harming and consuming them. The cycle passed by rather quickly, and they found another shelter.

Saint sat down as the alcove rumbled and shook with mechanical grinding. The Artificer sat down across from him.

“…I’m here for you, Arti.” Saint said softly.

She gave a conflicted sigh.

“Then- then why do I have to talk about it?!” She asked angrily. “Why can’t I just… move on?”

“It’s not that simple, Artificer.” He reminded her solemnly.

“It could be.” She rebuffed. “You- you…” She looked away for a moment. “… you make it better, Saint.”

He tilted his head, feeling his heart pulse and that comforting warmth fill his chest.

“You- you just do.” She continued, sounding pained by admitting it. “You’re the only good thing to happen to me in a thousand cycles and now- now you-!” Her voice broke and she turned away, stifling a rising sob.

“… I wish it were that easy, Arti.” He said quietly. “I would take all your pain in an instant if I could, but I can’t. That grief remains, even if suppressed.”

She gave the ground a dissatisfied glare.

“… I will do all I can to ease it.” He said softly. “But you still have to feel it.”

…

“… It- it- no. What’s even the point?” She asked. “I- that scavenger, I…”

“All your anger traces back to your grief, Artificer.” He told her. “If you want to change that, you cannot continue hiding from it.”

She stuttered out a few more excuses, failing to find a way to reason out of the conversation. Or perhaps the will to keep running.

“… I… I can’t, Saint…” She whispered, her voice broken and sad. “I- it…”

Saint moved across the shelter and sat down by her side.

“I know it hurts.” He said, clasping her hand in his. “You’re stronger than you know. And I’m here.”

She shook her head slightly at the ground, trying and failing to speak.

“… S-Saint, please, just…” She leaned into him and pressed her head into her shoulder. “Don’t make me…”

He wrapped his arms around her and rested her head atop hers with a sigh.

“… You have too eventually…” He said softly. “… I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”

“… I can’t… it’s too much…” She whispered, struggling to keep tears from falling. “I- I did so much for them, and- and…”

She began to cry. Saint pulled her closer.

“It didn’t bring them back…” She whimpered.

“… fuck, it… IT DIDN’T BRING THEM BACK!!”

She broke into a sob as she shouted into his shoulder.

“I killed, I slaughtered, I…” She muttered, shaking her head with her face still hidden in his fur. “All for nothing… NOTHING!!”

Saint gently nuzzled against her ears with his forehead.

“I still hear them…” She cried. “Every night, every fucking night…”

She released a guttural sob of hundreds of cycles of suppressed pain that broke into further tears, her form physically shaking with grief and sorrow. Saint readjusted to hold her closer, and she quite willingly melded into his lap and embrace.

She sobbed and cried and blubbered into him, oscillating between screaming sobs of gut-wrenching pain and soft weeping, clinging to his fur like her life depended on it. Saint held her in silence and allowed her to let her emotions flow.

Her sobs began to sound more choked, her mouth full of tears and spit. She coughed and shook in his arms.

“I can’t… I can’t do it…” She whispered shakily. “It- it hurts… m-make it- s-stop…”

“I’m sorry, Arti, I can’t.” He said softly, pressing his forehead to hers. “It will pass, I promise.”

“M-make it stop…” She repeated. Saint held her tighter.

“I just-just-” She choked, gasping for air. “Want t-to for-forget… I can’t… they-they-!” She gasped for air again. “They’re gone!! Why can’t I let- go!?! I- I WISH I NEVER FUCKING HAD THEM!!”

She gasped for air and screamed horribly into his shoulder, trembling with hate and pain as she broke once again into a sob. Saint held her as tightly as he could, nuzzling her and moving his tail over hers.

“I’m the worst mother ever…” She sobbed. “I’m so fucking awful… they- they were the best thing that- that I ever had… and I-!”

“Shh…” He whispered gently. “It’s alright. They know you love them.”

She gasped in his arms and produced nothing of substance.

“… I miss them so much… they were all I had...” She sniveled shakily, her chest still heaving and her throat full of snot and tears. “An-and I… treat them like this…”

“… Did you mean it?”

“…no…” She mumbled.

“… You are hurting. There are many things in your head.” He said softly. “… what you do is more than what you say.”

She was silent.

She wept into him for another while. Sometimes her tears would slow, and then she’d find another memory, and fall back into them. Sometimes it would well up, and shatter her with another sobbing scream of anguish. Saint held her steadfast, till his fur was damp and knotted from her tears. He didn’t mind.

“… the worst part is- is…” She choked. “They’d be afraid of me… I- I’m so awful and- and violent and…”

“You are not at heart, Arti.” He said gently.

“So what?!” She cried out. “Look at me, Saint! I’m a fucking-” She gasped for air and coughed. “I- I’m scarred and angry and- awful and- I’m a monster!”

“How would you treat them if they shared those traits?”

She paused.

She took a few shaky, choked breaths.

“… they deserved a better mother…” She whimpered, looking to the ground.

“… And you deserved a chance to be one.” Saint added quietly.

…

She cried for yet another while longer.

Cried the tears she’d suppressed for a thousand cycles.

Still drifting between soft weeping and sobbing, bittersweet and gut-wrenching. Though her anguish was slowly lessening as she drifted through the throes of grief. Her cries became less frequent, she gasped for air a little less as the storm of grief burned within her.

She spit and choked out her words like swallowed venom, a sickness, long hidden, vomited and purged from her blood. Saint listened quietly, and provided words of comfort when needed.

His heart pulsed gently against his chest as she grieved. Kind enough to not race, just softly, rhythmically crying out. Hoping the mind resting oh-so close to it would hear just how much it felt for her.

Eventually… she mostly stilled.

Tears slowly drifting down her cheeks, her eyes red and irritated. She laid against his chest and breathed shakily.

He lifted her chin to brush his finger across her eyelid, gently and slowly so as not too further irritate the skin. He gazed into her miserable visage as she stared back, the forces of karma flowing through his finger to open a cauterized-shut soul, and was struck with a wave of pain himself.

A tear freed itself from behind his eyelid, glistening gold and black, and drifted down his cheek to join the rest among his fur.

The Artificer’s eye opened, and then shut once more. He gently laid her head back down.

Stillness fell once more.

Stillness.

“… What were they like?”

The question came from the Saint. The Artificer seemed a bit confused for a moment.

“… oh- oh, I…” She sniffled, wiping her nose. “… didn’t tell you about them…”

“That’s alright.” He reassured her. “You needed a chance to let it out. Now, I only request you try to remember the good.”

She took a shaky breath.

“… Shine was… old-older…” She mumbled, her throat and nose still clogged. “Blueish… color. Loved collecting things, messing with… rocks n’ stuff. P… pearls…”

She took a moment to cry a few more tears.

“He was… happy. always excited to find new stuff. See new things.”

She sniveled and let out something almost approximating a small laugh.

“… Y-y’know, he… wanted to be called The Glint when he was… old enough.” She said, tears still gently trailing down her cheeks while the slightest smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Cuz he- he heard me use the word at some point and just- thought it was the coolest thing…”

“Aw…” Saint said quietly. “That’s adorable.”

“… yeah…” She agreed sadly.

She fell back into his fur for a moment, slightly shaking as she wept.

Saint gently pet her head as she regained her strength. Her skin was coarse and rough, broken up by the slightest bits of respite from all her burns and cuts. Smoother spots around her ears, small havens from the fire.

“… Lily was the younger…” She managed, her voice still cracking and breaking. “Younger one. She- she was green, like… like a lilypuck.” She sniffled. “A little… scared, timid, but… curious. Loved nature. Loved… water…!”

She sniveled and coughed as a few more tears fell, leaning her head back into his chest.

”… She- she drowned-!” The Artificer wept, her voice breaking. “The- the leeches, they-!” 

“Shh, shh shh… there, there…” Saint cooed, gently patting her head. “Focus on the good.”

She sniveled and tried to regain her composure for a bit.

“… was gonna call her the… the Lilypuck...” She mumbled into him. Saint sighed sadly. 

“… I miss them so much…” She whimpered.

“I know, my dear.” He said softly. “You’ll be alright. They’re with you.”

She was silent for a moment.

“… what did you call me…?” She asked, looking up.

“… My dear.” Saint repeated, his voice almost a whisper. “Because you are dear to me.”

She stared up at him for a moment.

Saint cupped her cheek and gently brushed his thumb across her eye again.

Another moment of stillness as he let his hand, and her tears, fall.

She gently leaned back down and onto his chest.

She didn’t look… content. But she did look…

A little more okay.

She took a very deep, very shaky breath, and sighed.

He did not know if it was a sigh of contentment, or relief, or sorrow, or resignation, or whatever else.

But it was what she needed.

Some time passed. Saint found himself gazing down at her, relaxed and quiet, more so then he’d ever seen her. Even with tears still glistening in her eye. 

Eventually, her eye slowly drifted shut.

Her breathing began to steady.

She fell asleep.

Saint sighed and rested his chin atop her forehead.

He did not know what tomorrow would bring. What emotions would come from her walls finally crumbling.

But… that was for later.

He sat up and stared down at her, sleeping so peacefully against him, a thread of his fur between her clawed fingers. He briefly squeezed her tight, a small indulgence for himself.

“… Oh, my dearest spark…” he whispered. “… How my heart burns for you.”

“… I hope, one day… I may tell you.”

”… I love you, Artificer.” 

“… Goodnight.” 

Chapter Text

The Artificer had a dream that night.

Saint said something, but she could not hear what.

She was left only with what the words made her feel.

Her heart rushed into her throat and filled her chest with an elating lightness, rushing through and past her like a bullet. It warmed her face and made her ears fall flat, the wish to yelp with joy only surmounted by sheer confusion. She stumbled back, her heart racing, her breath quickened. She gasped for air, not knowing if it was to steady herself or to further breath in the feeling she’d been struck with. She was buried in bliss and drowning in confusion.

And then she was awake.

Not with a jolt.

Just her eye, opening in an instant.

She was snuggled closely into the Saint’s embrace, his arms around her head and torso to pull her near as he could manage and brace his chin on her head. Still breathing steadily, fast asleep, squeezing her tight.

She stayed still for a moment, feeling his breath against the top of her head and his gently rising and falling chest.

She gently took his hand and moved it off her, into his lap. She began to stand before he sleepily pulled at her, his hand moving to gently fumble with her wrist. He adjusted to simply press himself to where she was, half-standing, his cheek now pressed against her chest.

She sighed as she pulled his hands off herself again. She untangled herself without further stirring from the sleeping deity, stepping away as a little of his previous comfort and contentment seeped out of his expression.

She sat down on the other side of the shelter and pressed her hands over her eyes. She swept them up her forehead to briefly flatten her ears, then fall back to her sides, as if to cleanse her face of some grime or muck.

She rubbed her functional eye, her heart still fluttering in her chest.

She hadn’t felt so weak in a thousand cycles. Nor so safe. Cared for.

That did not make her feel better about finally telling someone.

Especially not… Saint.

Fucks sake, she’d been trying to convince him to delay the talk before she broke and collapsed into his arms. She’d let her guard down the slightest bit and completely fell apart, sobbing like a child and clinging to him like her life depended on it. It felt so awful, she hated it.

She hated it more that it was the best feeling she’d ever felt.

Had she ever even properly come to terms with being… friends with Saint? Sure, she- gave him a nickname and whatever, but all she’d really done was push her doubts aside. Finding herself unable to recoil from him, so starved of care.

And now she was… less of that. A little. And now her doubts and conflicts had risen again. But it’s… not like she was about to leave. She- she did care about him.  Why was it all so complicated…

She felt better. That white-hot coal in her heart had finally been cooled, her chest free of the constant dull ache whenever she was left alone with her thoughts. She felt so clear and yet so conflicted, to the point of almost anger. Why was she like this?! Why was she angry?! Why couldn’t it be easier?!

She rested her head in her hands and sighed. She could find no answer to her questions, not even a way to push them out of her mind. Conflicting emotions rising from nothing and resulting in nothing.

She heard Saint stir across the shelter, and looked up.

“… Good morning, Arti.” He said softly, rubbing his closed eye as he sat up. “… I hope you slept well.”

She didn’t know what to say. Her mouth seemed to be sealed shut.

Just say fine. You slept fine, problem solved. Hell, he didn’t even ask a question.

That didn’t feel right. That felt like a disservice to the comfort Saint’s embrace brought her.

“… Shall we depart?” He asked.

After a moment, she nodded a bit.

Her mouth remained sealed as they headed across the islands, heart mind full and empty at once. So wrought with emotions, yet no conclusions to gain from them. A circle of inconsistencies and confusion.

“… How’s your day, Arti?” Saint asked as they trotted through the snow.

“… Fine.” She said, taking a great deal of effort to pry her lips apart.

“That’s good.” Saint affirmed. “… Are we nearing the pipe yard?”

The Artificer was too lost in her mind to really hear the question.

“… Arti?”

“Oh-oh, uh- s-sorry.” She stammered, snapping from her trance. “Uh… yeah. I think. Maybe.”

Saint nodded and went quiet for a moment.

“… Is something bothering you?” He prompted.

She paused a moment, then sighed.

“… I mean… yeah. When is something not…?” She asked.

Saint looked a little solemn. “What is it?”

Her mind moved back to the night before. To the memories. Conflicting emotions of comfort and fear and grief and…

She tried to speak, but her words caught in her throat. She found herself struggling to keep a tear from falling.

“I- I…” She mumbled, her voice breaking. Saint stepped to her side and hugged her.

“There, there.” He said quietly. “Grief comes and goes.”

She paused.

She wanted to hug him back so badly.

That was all she wanted. To hear his voice, feel his touch, keep him by her side. To protect him.

Which voice in her head didn’t want that? Wasn’t that the same voice that kept her children locked to the deepest depths of her memories? The voice that told her that vengeance was required?

She didn’t like that voice.

So why did she listen to it?

She didn’t want to listen to it.

She wanted to fight it.

She wanted to return this hug. Breath him in, soak in his presence.

Before she gathered enough will, he pulled away.

A little bit of the clarity he gave her remained. A little certainty over who she was, who she wanted to be.

“… Everything alright?” Saint asked gently.

…

“… A little more.” She mumbled.

Saint nodded, smiling softly. He gestured for her to lead the way.

After a moment, she nodded, and obliged.

She found herself wishing she was holding his hand.

The Saint was running now.

Not ten minutes from their discussion had a cyan lizard leapt from a hiding place and attacked. And, naturally, been wrestled into submission. Though by the time it had been sufficiently neutralized, two more had shown up, and the Artificer had cursed loudly and gestured for him to follow.

He assumed they were making a sprint for the gate. He noted the presence of massive pipes and support struts visible in the gaps between bridges and islands, the largest of which they were quickly nearing.

Saint stuck his tongue to a pole, hoping to reach the ceiling before he noted the pole’s texture was not that of steel. He dropped before the disguised plant could properly grab him, and darted around it with the lizard’s pulses playing behind him.

A spear whizzed past him and struck… something, he couldn’t tell. The Artificer snarled from the mound she was perched on and darted down the side, out of Saint’s view. He crested the hill, leapt and grappled to the ceiling. He swung across the metallic expanses and bridges, keeping his gaze on the Artificer below.

She snatched a rock as she ran, launched into the air with a spin and hucked the rock backwards, clocking one of the two lizards right in the nose. She hit the ground still running as the lizard stumbled and fell. Saint noted a rapidly approaching dead end and lowered to the ground, then dropped.

“Artificer!” He yelled to her.

“WHAT?!” She shouted back.

“What are we doing about that?!”

She looked ahead to the ledge, then shook her head. “Just follow me!”

She skidded to a stop and wriggled through a pipe Saint hadn’t even noticed existed. Saint saw one of the cyan lizards leap over the hill they’d recently traversed as he followed.

He tumbled onto a lower ledge of the island, seeing the Artificer race into another pipe. He grappled over and rolled to a run, hearing the chasing lizard fire itself out of the tunnel like a cannon ball and hit face-first in the dirt.

This was the gate. Saint darted after the Artificer as she leapt onto the grate. He heard the lizard jet through the tunnel and land just behind him, bracing and charging to launch as he leapt into the gate…

The main lock fell shut, and the cyan lizard slammed teeth-first into it.

They heard it scratch and snarl angrily at the wall that took it’s prey for a bit as the mechanisms whirred. The sound of another lizard’s launch played near the room entrance. The now two reptiles antagonized and snapped at each other as the slugcats caught their breath.

“… Fuck.” The Artificer said, somewhat breathlessly.

“… Fuck, indeed.” Saint agreed.

The Artificer gave him an odd look.

“… Still feels weird to hear you say that.” She said.

He smiled at her. “Perhaps we’re both changing each other for the better.”

She gave him a further puzzled look.

“… The gate is open.”

She did not move. Saint continued to smile softly as he carried on past her.

“Do you mind giving me an overview of the pipeyard?” Saint asked as they scaled down the massive vertical shaft that followed the gate.

“… Centipedes, mud, and scavengers.” She said after a moment. “Also pole plants. And… beehives. Just- think swamp, with more pipes.”

Saint nodded. “Is there an abundance of water?”

The Artificer was silent for a moment.

“… Shit.”

She froze on the pole they were climbing, staring down into the drop below.

“… Is everything alright?”

“… Ugh. Fine…” She mumbled, resuming. “It’ll… probably have some water. In the lower levels.”

“Mm.” Saint acknowledged. “Alright. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

After a lengthy climb down from the sky islands, the slugcats breached one of many steel pipes and out into a frozen scrapyard. Rust and snow made almost the whole of the area’s colors naught but green, reddish and white, moldy steel and overgrown infrastructure. Nature seemed less like a blanket of accenting beauty and more like a plague here.

“… Forgot how ugly this place was.” The Artificer said.

“I won’t deny it is rough around the edges. But I like it.” Saint replied. “… I admit I’m not a fan of the briskness.”

She glanced over to him. “Cold?”

“A touch.” He answered. “Again, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

She stared at him for a moment. He saw a conflict of interests in her gaze, a sort of indecision he hadn’t seen from her in a bit. It was… saddening to see that, after they’d made such progress.

She looked away.

Their travels through the pipes was quick to confirm the Artificer’s words. The landscape was often dotted with steel beams, some of which occasionally rippled with disguised plant matter or swayed in the wind. They crawled through tunnels rife with centipedes, skittering constantly echoing through the pipes. Fields of dirt and mud spanned the spaces between pipelines, supporting flourishing wetlands and plant life when not drowned in scrap and winding tubes. The Artificer grabbed a spear to hold as they traveled.

“Surprised we haven’t seen Mr. Red death yet.” The Artificer remarked as they walked through the pipelines. Saint gave her a rather confused look.

“… Red centipedes.” She elaborated. “This place is like a breeding ground for a em’.”

“Oh. Fun.” Saint remarked lightly. “Do you have a plan?”

“Not one that’s actually that useful.” She replied. “It’s a red centipede.”

Saint nodded slowly, briefly ruminating on just how poorly this could go if a scarlet-scaled behemoth did indeed decide to try and make prey of them.

“Let’s change the subject.” Saint suggested.

The Artificer nodded slightly. “… See the scavenger marks around here?”

“… I do now” Saint affirmed after a brief survey of the room.

“They’re probably close.”

“… I intended the other subject to be something less focused on our theoretical imminent demise.” Saint said.

She snorted slightly. “Tough shit.”

Saint tilted his head a bit.

“… Is everything alright, Arti?” He asked.

She seemed a touch put off by the question.

“… Yeah. Why…?” She answered tentatively.

“You seem a bit more… unhappy. Then usual.” He said.

She turned a bit away, seeming conflicted before Saint lost view of her face.

He heard a whoosh sound from behind them. The Artificer tensed and turned on a dime. A spear stuck itself into the space between them and caused Saint to startle.

“HEY!” The Artificer shouted, pointing her spear in the direction the projectile came from.

Three scavengers stood a distance away, two with spears raised and one in the process of grabbing one from it’s back. All seeming not afraid, but angry. Saint’s gaze flickered around worriedly, still startled from the attack.

A squad of rebels, hoping to take revenge.

“Back off!” The Artificer shouted. “I didn’t do shit!”

Each of the scavengers glanced at each other. Saint noticed how thoroughly armed they were, each with a minimum of one explosive on hand.

“You don’t wanna do this.” The Artificer reminded them. “Leave me- leave us alone, and no one gets hurt.”

Stillness.

Each group surveyed their surroundings. The Artificer’s eye flickered from the scavengers to the Saint, seemingly realizing she likely couldn’t win this fight. Or rather, that she couldn’t win and keep Saint safe.

Saint noticed one begin to reach for a grenade.

The Artificer placed her spear in her mouth and raked her teeth down the length of it, then slammed it into the steel in front of her, releasing a series of crackles and miniature explosions that shattered the spear into shrapnel like a makeshift firecracker. Then she turned on a heel, took Saint’s hand and darted in the opposite direction.

The small squadron of hunters raced after them through the pipes as they sprinted, leaving crackles and bangs in their wake as spears whizzed behind. Saint hoped dearly the Artificer knew where she was going, now bounding behind her. They turned a corner and a blast nearly knocked him from his feet, the tunnel shifted vertically on the spot and they had to climb up.

The Saint clambered over the ledge, hearing the scavengers race to the bottom of the tunnel. The Artificer was ahead of him. Hopefully the climb would give them time to make enough distance.

He heard the briefest whoosh, along with a crackling sound.

An explosion hit the ceiling behind him and shattered his senses. He tumbled across the pipes for a moment, then slammed into a ledge of some sort. He slid off, fell, and fell, and fell.

He hit water like a meteor and lost consciousness.

Saint drifted through his unwilling sleep naturally for some time.

And then…

They were in the void.

They sighed. They knew this meeting was coming. They’d forcibly delayed it for several cycles now. But the worm had finally pierced their metaphysical walls. Natural, considering they hadn’t even had time to build them this time.

The serpent in question hovered over them with poorly masked anger present in it’s face.

“… Speak.” The Saint prompted.

It did not oblige.

“… I do apologize, if it means anything.” The Undoer added, knowing it would likely mean little. “I lost my temper in our last meeting, and should’ve been more diplomatic. I-”

“Do not force your ignorant, grating voice upon me any further, rat.” The void worm interjected, speaking in a cruel spike of angry static that The Saint was forced to mentally translate. “I will speak when I wish.”

The deity sighed and kept their expression neutral, resisting the urge to point out the sheer pettiness of that statement.

“… Has you arrogance dawned on you yet?” Spat the god-serpent, still in its natural tongue.

“… Yes.” They lied with a nod.

“Oh, is that so?” The chorus hissed. “Have you finally come to notice that you are nothing to me, much less my superiors?”

“… No. Because you are not.” The Saint said after a moment. “You should really speak to some of said superiors, preferably the ones who respect this burden I bear.”

“BURDEN?!?” The worm screamed, making Saint wince from the earth-shattering force. “YOU HAVE NOT EVEN BORE IT!! YOU HAVE BEEN TASKED WITH UNDOING BUT TWO MERE OBJECTS AND INSTEAD HAVE SPENT ALL YOUR TIME PRANCING AROUND WITH A DISCONNECTED HEATHEN!!”

The Saint raised their hand, and the worm went silent. They could feel it trying to roar it’s way past his barrier.

“Reminder that you are not to mention her, as previously stated.” The Saint said, trying to mask how annoyed they were. “And, additionally, I am tiring of that word. Please refrain from speaking, especially negatively, about my companion.”

They paused, thinking for a moment.

“This is your only warning.”

They hoped the small amount of eldritch menace they added to their voice would dissuade the worm. The serpent deserved a few chances to realize their ignorance.

They let their hand fall to their side.

“YOU ARROGANT, MEANINGLESS, HERETICAL SPECK!!” The worm roared in sky shattering rage. “YOU THINK YOUR TRICKS OF SOUND AND VOICE DISSUADE ME!?!? YOU ARE NOTHING TO MY MERE EXISTENCE, MUCH LESS MY POWER!!”

The undoer stared silently, though they gave a small sigh.

“YOU CLAIM SO MUCH POWER THAT YOU EITHER DO NOT HAVE OR ARE TOO COWARDLY TO USE!!!” The chorus bellowed. “YOU ARE NOTHING!!”

Saint began to get a little annoyed.

“I SHOUKD STRIKE YOU WHERE YOU STAND, WIPE YOUR EXISTENCE FROM ALL RECORD SO THE CYCLE MIGHT MAKE A DEITY EVEN THE SLIGHTEST BIT MORE COMPETENT!!! IF I WERE THE CYCLE TASKED WITH DRAGGING YOU INTO THE LIGHT, I’D VERY WELL TAKE YOU AND LEAVE YOUR WORTHLESS MATE TO DISSOLVE-!”

With a choked gasp of crackling static, the worm went silent.

The Saint, hand raised and fist clenched, pulled the worm’s eyes close to their own, now open.

…

“I’m sorry… what was that?”

The serpent choked and gasped for the air it did not need, a sacred symbol formed around its throat with the x piercing the center.

”H- how-?! Ack-!”

“No, no. Go ahead.” The undoer prompted. “I obviously didn’t hear you right.”

The serpent sputtered and gasped nothing of substance.

“Oh. Right. I forgot.” The Saint said dully. “Despite your lack of throat, neck, mouth, airways to clamp shut or even a function similar to breathing, I am effectively strangling you. Odd thing, you and your brethren are so specifically associated with karma and void fluid that I can effectively manipulate you however I like.”

Saint lessened his hold, so as to allow the worm to speak, but not to breathe easy.

“Go ahead. Repeat yourself.” They demanded.

“I- I didn’t- unhand-!”

Saint clenched his fist again and the voice went quiet.

“Or perhaps I did hear you right.” The Saint continued. “Perhaps you, after ample warning, directly threatened to cause someone very dear to me to dissolve into an echo.”

“Was that what you did?”

“I- n-no!” The serpent gasped. “I could- could not, she is- out of my power-!”

“That is not what I asked.” The Saint clarified firmly.

The serpent choked out yet more nothingness.

The Saint was seething with anger in a way they hadn’t been in quite some time. Just from that one idea, the last proper words of rage the serpent had spoken. 

The mere concept was heartbreaking and enraging at the same time. 

Separated forever. The one he loved, left to turn to nothing, spend the rest of time under the same curse as him. 

Left alone, without his arms around her.

He would not let that happen. He would go through rubicon a thousand times over before it. 

“… I’ll get to the point.” The Saint said lowly.

“I am above you, whether you or I like it or not. I have lived triple, perhaps more the cycles you have, and will bear the burden of existence for the rest of time. My power over you should not be so wantonly disregarded. I know what I am doing, and I know how I should do it. My personal preferences may be contested, but not so rudely or offhandedly.”

“This is more than anger, though I admit it is largely that. This is discipline.” The undoer continued. “Forward this message, this feeling, to your community. Remind them you are not gods, especially the ones like yourself. And, specifically, to the serpent who started this conundrum. The one who will be responsible for my ascension once my task in this cycle is over.”

“Do. Not. Harm her.”

“Or I will stretch their mountains till they pierce the sky, boil their oceans and melt their lands, make their stars fall and caverns collapse, warp their cycle beyond recognition until they are naught but a hellscape empty of life. And then their sea will swallow their sky, and they will be eradicated.”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-y- yes-!” The serpent gasped. “P-please, undoer, forgive-!”

“Don’t call me that.”

Saint released the worm. They recoiled, coughing and gasping for air in weak pulses of static ripples through the sea. Were he not so furious, it would’ve inspired some sympathy. 

“I’ll give a brief summary.” Saint offered. “I am fully capable of doing you all great harm, though I often dislike doing so. Offhanded disrespect of me and my ability to complete my task is unappreciated, and disrespect of the ones I care for is not tolerated. Use your flagrant vocabulary to describe, in detail, what pain feels like to the worm who contests my power. And make it so they know this well. If they attempt to harm my companion…”

“I will break them upon the very wheel they represent.” 

“… Goodbye.”

Chapter Text

The Artificer turned back at the sound of the explosion just in time to see Saint tumble toward the gap she’d just leapt across. He hit the ledge, slid off and disappeared.

“SAINT!” She cried, launching back to chase him down the pipes. She was already diving into the gap when she heard, thank hell, a splash of water.

She crashed into a pool of water like a falling star, barely stopping herself from immediately gasping for air upon it’s contact. She found her bearings to see Saint floating limply in the grime and scrap.

She pushed off the wall and grabbed around him as she swam to the surface. She broke with a gasp and clawed herself up to the shore, keeping him secured on her shoulder with her other hand. She caught her breath for a moment as she tried to find a safe place to set him down.

The scavengers were no longer a problem. They’d never try for such a large drop, much less come out of it without being at a significant disadvantage. Not like that was really on her mind though.

She found a smooth spot free of scattered shrapnel and laid him against the pipe wall, muttering expletives to herself. She pressed her hand to his forehead for a moment before she remembered that is not even remotely how you check someone’s pulse.

An actual check later, he was breathing. An unpleasant-looking scrape lay on his forehead, near his left ear, but it wasn’t bleeding. She checked his back to thankfully find no grenade shrapnel buried in his skin, though he had some minor cuts.

She finished her check-up and hugged him.

She didn’t know why. 

She sat there for a moment, her chin resting on his shoulder. Calming from her spurt of urgency, listening to his gentle breathing as if it might stop at any moment. His fur was soaking wet, but she didn’t really mind. 

She stared into the steel behind him and thought. 

Why was she so scared?

She pulled away and sat knelt in front of him, running over the meaning of the moment in her head. Over the feelings when he’d fallen, over the feelings when she’d saved him.

She moved to check his pulse again, hesitated, then followed through. She rifled past his damp fur to place her fingers in the crook of his neck. All good.

Her claws found several knots and mats as her hand drifted to her side. Their travels had not been kind to Saint’s fluff.

She pushed away a nagging thought and shook her head, standing up. She needed to get him to safety.

She decided it would be best to just find shelter now. She managed to find her bearings in the pipeyard and head to a shelter she knew nearby, holding Saint over her shoulder all the time. She managed to push herself in and gently pull him through the door. She crawled back out and looked around. She briefly considered grabbing him some popcorn seeds for breakfast, then shook her head and went back in.

She laid him gently down against the wall, then checked his pulse again. Then his breathing. Twice. He was fine.

She got up and again checked the outside briefly, for whatever reason. Then she crawled back in and pressed the button to send the locks grinding into place. She stepped back and sat down against the wall.

Silence fell over her.

She hated it.

She pulled her ears down briefly and sighed in the same motion she’d done just that morning. After waking up in his arms.

She tried very hard to ignore the voices in her head, the clashing and shouting. Her thoughts back in the sky islands echoed in her head.

She turned away, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could hear the wind howling outside. She looked back and rubbed her functional eye, trying to find something to focus on other than her thoughts.

Her heart took on a different sort of ache. Lighter than the one of grief, one that sent little chills running through her blood. One that felt… good, in a way.

She glanced back up at Saint. Peaceful as always. Small, frail, head lolled to the side in unconsciousness, the now dry fur around his face rustling slightly with his breath.

The Artificer, the apex of war, mutilator and mauler, the war queen of a conquered throne, the scarlet death, vengeance incarnate, sat staring at her companion, and all she could currently think about was how…

Ugh. She couldn’t will herself to say the word.

She shook her head and got up, walking over to him to check his pulse. No, not to feel his fur. Just to check on him.

He was still fine. She brushed through his fur to see the scrape on his head better, scratched skin and red spots in his fluff. She sighed and pulled back from him, still watching his chest rise and fall.

… She should probably lay him down. If he was going to sleep till next cycle, sitting up while doing so would make him sore in the morning.

She scooted over and laid him slowly down still he was resting on his side like usual, her hands reluctantly drifting away from his fur, its knotted state still nagging at her. She knelt by his side for a moment.

She glanced at her hand, her claws.

...

… He really could use some brushing. Pipeyard water wasn’t exactly clean, half of it came from the frozen gutters of the canopy. Not to mention all the other stuff he’d been through.

It wasn’t that much. She was just being nice, slugcats- did stuff like this on a regular basis. Just a small gift from a friend.

And it would be nice to use her claws for something good.

She tentatively scooted over to him, extended a hand, then hesitated. After a moment, she threaded her fingers through his fluff and began gently combing it, pulling away the knots and mats and feeling it’s threads like silk gliding over her skin.

Saint awoke fuzzily, his mind still buzzing with confusion and half-managed fury. He groggily opened his eyes, not exactly cognizant enough to remember to look through them. He rubbed his head as he sat up, blinking sleepily. Where was he?

A shelter, seemingly, by the sterile steel beneath him. Where was the Artificer?

He felt strangely… clean. As if his fur had been groomed recently. He could barely feel the cold wind seeping in from the shelter’s open door. Was he fluffier than usual?

He heard something crawling through the exit tunnel, and turned.

The Artificer paused, her head halfway into the metal box.

“… Hey.”

“… Hello.”

“… Didn’t know you were up.”

“I wasn’t.”

She paused and glanced around.

Saint finally realized his eyes were still open.

“Oh-oh dear, I’m sorry!” He apologized, starting and forcing his eyes closed. “I- I didn’t-!”

“Hey, hey. S’ok.” She interrupted, crawling fully into the shelter. “Just… eyes.”

Saint drew breath, then sighed. He shook away the reminders of his nature and tried to find his bearings.

“Wh- what happened?” He asked.

“… The scavengers.” She answered, leaning against a wall and crossing her arms. “I jumped after you… anything- hurt?”

Saint rubbed a spot on his head again, where a dull sting emitted. “… Mostly. Thank you.”

She nodded slightly, glancing over him in a somewhat concerned fashion. Saint ran over his other senses, finding a similar sting on a few spots in his back, and that sense of cleanliness again.

... Wait a moment.

“… Did you… brush my fur?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “… What?”

“… My fur.” He repeated, raising his arm and looking himself over. “If I’ve not gone mad, it’s cleaner than last I saw. As if fluffed, or combed.”

“… No.” She said, without any uncertainty. “That’d be like… a complete invasion of privacy.”

He thought for a moment.

“… Think you’re alright to go?” She asked.

“… I suppose so.” He answered after a moment.

They headed back out into the pipeyard, through the muck and tunnels. Saint felt a little shaken from his minor wounds, but aside from that, he was fine. In fact, the Artificer seemed to be more pained than him.

She was conflicted, that was clear. He’d wanted to address some of her struggles the morning after she’d told him about her children, but he’d known her long enough to understand it’d be harder than that.

His mind wandered as they clambered across steel and mud, wandered to nowhere in particular. Until a certain question came to him.

… Almost certainly a pipe dream. Fitting to the locale. But perhaps… she’d begun to feel it too.

… Now that it comes to mind, he should address his own heart before hers.

He’d meant to do this a while ago. He never really liked addressing such a raw emotion in such a dry, objective way. But he had to think about it eventually. Determine what it means, what it could mean.

He had fallen for her. That part was clear. Why, was the obvious question, as he and her couldn’t have been more different when they met. But Saint had always been drawn to the pained and the lost. He’d never met a soul hurt the same way she was, one so entrenched in grief and guilt, with such a desperate wish that things could be different, and such a bone-deep self-hatred that she didn’t think things should be different.

But she wanted to be better. At her core.

The world could use more people who want to be better.

Oh. And she was pretty. That was a given after some time, but it was nice to think about.

What might happen if he confessed? Would she feel the same, would she admit it even if it were so? He hoped she might, naturally. He’d already quietly confessed to her sleeping form.

He found his heart began to race, thinking of her in this context.

Focus, Saint. You’re determining important factors of a relationship, not silently pining.

“By the way, I’m planning to hunt something.” The Artificer said, half-interrupting him from his thoughtful longing. “You alright with that?”

“… With you eating?” Saint replied, slightly amused.

She snorted. “With me putting us in danger.”

“I’ll be fine, I assure you.”

She sighed. “Alright. Think there’s a lizard trail up ahead. Follow me.”

The Artificer took a makeshift spear from the ground, along with a rock that she tossed in her mouth and swallowed. Saint followed behind her as she traced the path, seemingly through occasional footprints left untouched by snowfall, and scent.

“… Might be injured. Seems like it’s walking weird.” She mumbled to herself. “No blood, though…”

Saint nodded thoughtfully as if he knew what she were talking about, and continued to follow her. The wind whistled softly as the snowfall of midday moved slowly in. The Artificer quickened her pace to assure she’d find it before it was impossible to track.

They were moving towards a clearing, where the snow was disturbed enough to be visible even to Saint’s eyes. The Artificer stayed locked just in front of her.

They nearly reached the clearing of pipes and scrap before the Artificer urgently held out an arm for him to stop.

“… I almost just walked us into an ambush.” She muttered. Saint gave her a concerned, puzzled glance. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could hear rustling nearby.

“Trail splits. Four, five…?” She mumbled. “Orange lizards. Don’t know where. But probably near.”

“… Should I be moving?” Saint asked worriedly.

“… Head back. Quietly.” She affirmed.

Saint began to walk slowly through the snow, keeping his ears as sharp as they could be.

A snarl from behind him. He startled and jumped back to the Artificer, finding the aforementioned orange lizard emerged from an unseen pipe.

“Shit. Run!” The Artificer ordered, only to find the rest of the pack already emerged from their own spots. She darted back to Saint and threatened with her spear, holding his hand with her free hand.

Four, no, five. Six. Six orange lizards, surrounding them, prowling around, snarling. Waiting to pounce, assuring no chance of escape. Saint pressed himself to the Artificer, finding few sufficient landmarks for him to grapple too. They were properly trapped.

…

“… Alright, fuckers.” The Artificer muttered. “Square up.”

The Artificer spun and hucked her spear with all her might, crashing straight through a lizards head armor and piercing it’s skull. The beast fell dead.

The fight was on.

She raced forward and yanked the spear from the corpse, then spun to strike a cut across the nearest lizard’s head. She blasted back into the air and tossed her spear to pin another to the dirt as it tried to race for Saint. She landed, claws extended on another and rolled, tossing the wounded reptile off her and racing back to the center of the fray.

She darted past Saint, who was crouched low in a mixture of fear and being unsure what else to do. She dove on a lizard that was moving for Saint and wrestled for a moment, scratching and tearing, before the one she’d cut earlier moved to assist it and she kicked off into the air again. Sparks and crackles of fire flung from her tail as she flipped through the snowfall.

One dead. One pinned. Two currently snarling as she flung over Saint’s head, two preparing for her landing.

She landed fangs first and bit into the back of the first waiting lizard, then rolled over and kicked it into the next. She darted to the pinned beast and dove over it, pulling free the spear and taking her claws across it for good measure. She rolled to her feet and launched up again.

The two she’d briefly wrestled with were moving on Saint, forcing him to dart in and out of their bites as the three behind him tried to find their bearings. A spear pierced the throat of one as it snapped, killing it on the spot, and then she was upon the other one, mauling, lacerating.

She tossed the now thoroughly wounded lizard off of her, grabbed her spear, and darted past Saint again. Another lizard had been moving to bite him, before her spear pierced the roof of it’s mouth and pushed out the top. She broke her spear in half upon trying to pull it free, snarled in anger and shoved the shard into the beasts neck, killing it.

Three wounded. Three dead.

One tackled her into the snow and locked her in it’s jaws, another nearby to assist. She scratched at her assailant's eye to free herself, rolled out of the other one’s bite, and tossed a rock at it as she darted for Saint.

She shoulder tackled him to the ground and threw something at the two lizards, putting herself between him and them.

An explosion flung scrap, scales, blood, teeth, snow, water, and all other manners of shrapnel across the battlefield. She trampled overtop of Saint and dove on the third lizard, rolling in a tangle for the briefest moment before she sunk her fangs into it’s neck. She scrambled off it, spitting a chunk of gore into the snow and racing towards the two she’d struck with her grenade. She pulled the remains of her spear from the nearby corpse, rolled past one lizard’s weak bite and jammed the rebar into it’s side. Twice. Thrice. Then she slammed it into the beasts back, tore all the way down it’s frills to the tail, and figured that was good enough.

The last beast, scorched, mortally wounded, struggling to stand, stumbled back as she raced for it. She tackled it to the ground, rolled till she was atop it, and sunk her teeth into it’s throat.

She stood up and glanced around rapidly for any further threat. She found none.

She raced back to Saint, still on the ground.

“Are you alright?!” She asked, clearly with adrenaline still running through her.

Saint took a moment to catch his breath.

“… Yes, I am.” He affirmed.

Slowly, she managed to relax her breathing.

Something, some thought seemed to… strike her. She flinched slightly, then recoiled slightly, looking conflicted.

She looked at her claws, herself, coated in blood, mud and viscera.

Saint sat up, then got to his feet, brushing debris from his fur. The Artificer looked up to stare at him for a moment.

“… Is everything alright?” He asked.

She thought for a moment, then glanced at her claws again.

“… Yeah.” She mumbled. It seemed to take some effort to say that.

Saint nodded thoughtfully.

He, as usual, wished he could see inside her head.

The pair found a shelter much later that day, the storm having grown significantly till the wind howled and screamed, biting through the Artificer’s skin. Her constant heat kept her warm, but Saint wasn’t doing as well when they crawled into the metal box.

He sat down shakily against the wall, clutching his shoulders and trembling. She started towards the other side of the shelter in instinct, then paused.

“… You okay?” She asked, turning to him.

“Y-y-yes…” He chattered.

She frowned slightly. “… You don’t look okay.”

“I-I as-sure you, I’m f-fine.” He denied.

She thought for a moment.

Part of wanted to help him warm up.

No. She wanted to help him warm up.

She moved to step towards him, was struck with indecision, and recoiled. Her mind buzzed with anxieties and discomforts as she looked away.

“… You don’t need to be all… this way about it.” She managed, looking back up to him. “If you’re cold, I can… help.” It was physically difficult to pry the words from her mouth.

“I am-m c-c-cold.” He chattered. “I s-simply v-value your c-comfort-t over m-mine.”

She stared at him for a moment.

By this point, she partially wanted to warm him up just to prove him wrong.

Mostly because she… wanted to help him.

Now that she thought of it, Saint had a habit of putting himself last. And maybe that was reasonable, considering his origin, considering all he’d been through, but… this was so trivial. But he was right, some part of the idea did discomfort her, because if it didn’t, she’d have walked over and hugged him by now.

She resisted the urge to groan and thump her head into the floor.

She couldn’t bring herself to let him shiver, or to… hell, she could barely bring herself to say the other option.

“… Whatever. I’m… whatever.” She muttered, shaking her head and walking the slightest bit closer. She sat down by him and almost grumpily laid her head on her hands, an action she almost immediately regretted for it’s rudeness.

Saint paused a moment, then laid down as well. She could feel him gently trembling beside her, shivering and chattering.

“G-goodnight, Arti.” He said softly, curling up.

She was silent for a moment.

Come on, Arti. You’ve wrestled a red lizard, you can do this. 

Fucks sake, how hard is it?!

She stood up, essentially pushed Saint into the corner, then encircled him, pressing close enough to feel his skin beneath the fur. He stammered slightly in surprise as she laid down again.

“There. Compromise.” She said quickly, trying to quiet her mind’s protests by getting it done with as quick as possible. “Now no one’s uncomfortable.”

He paused for a moment.

“… Th-thank you, Art-ti…” He chattered softly.

She heard him draw breath, then fail to use it. He paused, seeming to either think or steel himself.

“… um… may I… hug you?” He asked tentatively. “J-just a l-little bit-t?”

“… yeah.” She murmured.

Saint wrapped his shaking arms around her midsection and gently pressed his forehead into her back, making her skin tingle and her heart feel… fuzzy. Somehow.

“… Thank y-you…” He repeated, sounding much more comfortable.

She felt an urge to sigh contentedly, though she worried if she tried to do so, it would come out as dissatisfied.

“… no problem, fuzzy.” She mumbled, hoping she didn’t sound too indignant.

Saint adjusted slightly, still pressing into her, his tail briefly brushing overtop hers before retreating back. He gave an almost imperceptible sigh, and went fully quiet.

The Artificer felt a lot of things at once.

But most of all, she felt… tired.

She closed her eye.

Chapter Text

The Artificer awoke. Not quickly. Not with a jolt. Gently, her eyelid slowly drifting open and vision coming into focus. She felt rather calm, safe. In a way she hadn’t in a while.

She’d been saying that a lot recently.

Saint’s arms were still wrapped around her, though the two had readjusted in the night. Her tail was swept beneath his, and she’d moved down so his chin rested on her head as he curled around her.

She felt wonderful. The softness, the closeness, his steady breathing brushing past her ear and cooling her scarred eye. His arms, holding her tight, encapsulating her in gentle calm.

She pulled his arms off of her, rolled over, and pushed herself away.

She got to her feet, then sat down on the other side of the shelter, feeling aggravatingly sleepy.

Goddamnit. She’d just fallen into his arms again.

She was so tired of being conflicted. Of ignoring all her thoughts. Of existing in the same room with someone who brought her so much conflict and yet made her unable to bring herself to leave him behind. Of hating herself for feeling that way.

She placed her head in her hands and clenched them, feeling her claws dig into her skin. Not like it drew blood. She’d been through too much. Felt too much pain already. Skin of iron and heart of paper. 

“Arti?”

She started and looked up.

Saint was awake, propping himself up and sleepily tilting his head at her.

“… Morning.” She muttered, trying to claw the frustration from her voice as her hands fell to her sides. “… What’s got you up early?”

“… Nothing.” He answered after a moment. “In fact, the shelter just opened.”

She looked over to find this true, the slightest dusting of snow along the tunnel’s floor. She hadn’t heard or felt a trace of the usual commotion.

Not only did Saint dull her senses, but so did her spirals of anger.

She was a mess. A catastrophe, worse than before, because she sure as hell hadn’t gotten better. She still tensed at the sight of scavenger, still felt so full of anger. All that was different was she was a less efficient fighter, weaker, slower. All she had now was an unreasonable soft spot for another slugcat.

…

And a hatred that she felt that way.

“… Hm.”

“… Shoreline should be just ahead.” The Artificer remarked as the two traversed, pointing ahead through the caverns and winding pipelines. “Not… far.”

“That is good.” Saint affirmed. “Though… I note we are underground.”

She drew breath for a sarcastic comment, then shut her mouth and shook her head, feeling frustrated. There was enough on her mind as is, the least she could do is not make it his problem.

“… yeah.” She murmured, trying to pry the indignation from her tone. “… We’re probably already underwater.”

Saint nodded slowly. “… You don’t like water, I infer.”

“Yeah. No shit.” She muttered, immediately regretting the anger in her voice. “… I detonate after like- four seconds.”

Saint paused a moment in bewilderment and thought.

“… Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He nodded and began walking again.

The half-truth gnawed at her as they moved. That wasn’t true. She had the same lungs, if not better than any average slugcat. She detonated if she drowned, but it’s not like that’d happen before Saint froze or passed out himself.

Assuming she didn’t panic.

Gasp too early, let the fear overtake her.

And she always did. The feeling of sluggishness, constriction, how a mere slip of the mouth could be the death of her. The silt and plants drifting across her skin, making her mind jump to threats unknown. The unseen predators that sought to drag her down. The leeches.

The lilies.

Shut up. Shut. Up. God- dammit! She’d been through all this and now she couldn’t even think about water without-

She flinched and turned away from Saint, a tear of many emotions making itself known in her good eye.

She took a breath.

Just don’t think about it. Hellfire, don’t think about it.

Come on, you- stupid rat. At least tell him the truth.

“… I don’t- actually detonate after four seconds.” She murmured. “It happens when I… drown, and I don’t… any quicker than- usual.”

“I just… panic.”

“… That’s alright.” Saint assured her softly. “Perfectly normal. I’ll be here to help.”

His tone was uniquely comforting.

To the point of being tantalizing.

Because she couldn’t let him comfort her.

They crawled through another pipeline that didn’t seem to have plans of widening, the air growing thick and humid. The Artificer grimaced as they crawled, knowing what was coming. Thankfully it widened enough for them to stand and move before the inevitable happened.

The pipeline curved down and straight into a pool of water.

They paused at the edge for a moment.

The Artificer sighed frustratedly.

“… I-” Saint began.

“I’m fine.” She interjected. “Let’s go.”

She started forward, clenching her lungs for the inevitable.

Saint took her wrist gently pulled her back.

“Hey.” He said firmly as she glared back at him. “This is dangerous. We can’t afford recklessness.”

“I’m fine, Saint.” She growled.

“That is irrelevant. Whether or not you are alright, we need to plan.”

She stared a moment, then glanced away.

He was right.

Saint loosened his grip and clasped her hand within both of his.

“… I should go first. My eyes provide light and are not irritated in water.” He explained softly. “At some point, you will have to swim on your own. But for now, I will take your hand and guide you. That way your vision is at its best when or if I cannot.”

“Does that sound alright?”

She didn’t meet his shut eyes. She wished she could.

Her lungs and heart protested angrily at the thought, of leaving herself at the mercy of both the water and her companion. Thoroughly useless, a detriment, even. Dead weight, too wrapped in her own dammed mind to help the only person that ever cared about her.

“… yes.” She muttered.

Saint nodded gently. He held her hand a moment more, then let go.

He walked past her and to the ledge. She begrudgingly moved to his side.

Saint took her hand again.

“Ready?”

“… sure.”

“… On three.”

“One, two, three-!”

The first dive was mere seconds, kicking her feet through the constriction in the black before a splash of water and a barely suppressed gasp from her mouth. The two clambered onto another ledge above the water. After a moment to regain their composure, they started on again. 

They walked through the pipes for a bit, water dripping from the ceiling. Long enough for her to almost hope there was no more water, if she wasn’t more concerned with hating herself. 

It was all so stupid. What kind of idiot hates themself for hating themself? Hell, over a thousand cycles lived and she was still… this…

They reached another ledge.

This swim was longer, the sluggishness and blindness beginning to quickly weigh on her. Just a few seconds underwater, and yet her mind began to race, heart pounding, lungs trembling as they realize why they’d been shut. Had it been seconds or hours? 

It certainly felt like hours. Eternities passing in the dark shackles, clawing forward through the liquid that wished nothing but to pull her down. Pull her down. Drown her. Drowning. 

They broke the surface again, forcing her to gasp in fear. She scampered onto the ledge and slowed her breathing, far quicker than should be reasonable. She barely even needed the air. It had been, what, nine seconds underwater? Maybe ten?

She heard Saint shake water from his fur and prayed he hadn’t noticed. She stood urgently and turned away from him, doing her best to compose herself.

She’d barely gotten comfortable before another dive came. She hesitated to step to the edge, then grabbed Saint’s hand before he could question.

He waited just a moment. She could feel his unseen gaze at her side.

She closed her eye.

“One, two, three-!”

Forward, forward, up. She prepared to break the surface only to feel Saint’s gentle but firm grip pull her forwards again. Down. The pipes meandered as the somewhat warm water began to faintly chill, the frigid coast leaking in.

Her lungs screamed for air as the questions came back. How long had it been? Had they met a dead end, would they? Constricted, trapped. She was barely beginning to run out of air, but the urge to try and breath was inescapably growing.

They surfaced, and she clambered onto another ledge as Saint did the same. Her breathing was quick, but not heaving. She wasn’t even much out of breath; her lungs had been through far worse. And yet her mind raced. Thought, memory, fear, hatred. She hated all of it. Everything.

“… Arti?” Asked Saint’s voice to her side. “Are you-?”

“I’m fine.” She muttered, pushing herself to her feet. She started angrily forward and made an active effort to avoid looking at him.

She hated the water. She hated how terrified she was of drowning. She hated how angry those things made her. She hated how angry she was. She clenched her fists and felt her claws dig into her palms.

Another fucking ledge. Great. She stuck out her hand and waited impatiently for Saint, eye already shut.

Eventually, he gently clasped hers.

Down again.

A blur of forces and gentle lapping waves, up, down, around through meandering tunnels of pipelines once used to power the iterator they sought. Still the water slowly grew colder, weighed her down. She couldn’t see, that meant she was drowning. She was dying. She needed air. She-

They surfaced and she gasped for air, releasing her companion’s hand and digging her claws into the next section of pipe. She knelt there, seething, hyperventilating, full of fear and anger and hate. This was all she’d felt for seven, maybe eight hundred cycles, and all it took to bring her back was some fucking water. Some stupid fucking water.

“Arti, y-you’ll… have to swim on your own… this time.”

She turned to the source of the breathless voice.

Saint stood, leaning against the wall and catching his breath. His eyes were shut, and his fur was snow-white.

“… Wh- what…?” She whispered, standing up. 

“I’m f-fine, I assure you.” He said, his form briefly wracked with a shiver. “Just the cold. And my lungs… aren’t the best.”

She hadn’t even thought about him.

Once. Even as the water grew colder, even as the dives grew longer, she… she hadn’t thought of him.

“… O-okay. Got it.” She said, stumbling a bit over her words. “I’ll be fine.”

Saint nodded slightly as he steadied.

Not soon after, they steadied at the edge of another dive. Saint glanced to her in silent question, his fur still solid white.

Come on, Artificer. It’s just a little water.

If for nothing else, do it for him.

She nodded.

They dove beneath, bubbles flinging past her face as the water stung her open eye. She felt a brief ripple as Saint opened his eyes, casting an orange-white glow forward and lighting the path.

She kicked off the wall and shot forward, grabbing his hand to drag her with him. Sluggish, dark. Dead end? No. Saint glanced around and found the way forward, and she followed.

A blur in the dark, trying to keep calm as she swam and dashed. Stay calm, stay calm. Saint lit the way best he could through the pipes, illuminating underwater plant life and caved in hunks of metal. They swam and swam, kicked and clawed, lungs burning. Fear rising. Stay calm, stay calm-!

They broke the surface in a unified gasp. She clawed for a ledge to grab, but there was none, just a bubble of air in the metal tubes that the water hadn’t filled. She thrashed and glanced around for respite from the cold, forever pulling force. There had to be a way out. Somewhere. Where was it?!

“Arti!” Saint yelled, grabbing onto her best he could without pulling them both under. “Its alright!”

No it wasn’t. She wasn’t. She was scared. She was weak. She was drowning.

“Arti! It’s okay!” He said urgently, gently grabbing her and pulling her gaze to his. His hands were shaking slightly, though they still forced her to steady.

“You’re okay.” He said, a little breathlessly. “Its okay. I’m here.”

Her breathing slowed slightly, though her heart still pounded as she treaded the water.

Her hand drifted to his against her cheek, without really meaning to. He was soaked, trembling slightly, the shade of white in his fur darkening.

“It’s okay.” He repeated, pulling one of his hands away to tread the water, his other still cupping her cheek. “We’re okay.”

It’s okay.

He’s okay.

You’re not. 

But… but Saint was safe. She wasn’t drowning. 

She wasn’t drowning. She was with him.

“… Y-yeah.” She affirmed. “Yeah.”

Saint nodded gently. “The w-water is chilling, and the plants are growing. We must-t be near.” He said softly. “Just a bit-t further.”

After a moment, she nodded.

Saint let his hand fall from her cheek.

They swam for a bit until they could go no further.

She steeled herself as best she could.

“… Three. Two. One-!”

A gasp for air, and they dove beneath.

Plants drifting by through the dark, then illuminated by the light.

His fur, so similar. Swimming, kicking, clawing.

Seaweed, debris, cold waves and ripples.

Something drifted across her skin. A leech.

No. Just a plant. Stay calm, Arti.

Dark, light. Lungs beginning to burn.

Another horrible parasite latching to her. Dragging her down. She was drowning. Stay calm. Stay. Calm.

So many leeches in this pool, so many awful worms. Pulling at her as she swam. Fought.

Light faded to dark faded to light. Metal became rock. Yet more leeches.

She looked up through the greenish water as she slowly sank down, down, down.

She saw her mother, hunched at the ledge above. Clawing up with one hand over her eye, blood splattered against the rocks.

Lily’s vision began to dim.

At least Mom made it out.

The Artificer gasped for air as she surfaced, tears in her eyes. Saint’s voice called out something, pulled her forward. A broken gate, long since swept away, pushing further. Lily. Oh, god, Lily…

A ledge? A way out. Stumbling through a tunnel. All a blur.

You’re out of the water. It’s- it’s okay.

It’s not okay.

She clambered through the entrance to a shelter and collapsed in the corner.

Rumbling, locks falling in. She felt Saint’s hand on her back.

“Arti, it’s-”

“No.” She said breathlessly, rolling over and throwing his arm off of her. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“A-Arti, you-”

She was so tired. So full of thought and fear and emotion. She was done.

“No. I’m tired.” She muttered, turning away and curling up as if to sleep. “I’m going to sleep.”

Saint was silent for a moment.

“… Arti, I don’t… understand.” He said uncertainly.

“I’m done.” She answered firmly. “Goodnight.”

She tilted her ears down against her head as if to quiet the world. To shut herself down and forget.

Stillness.

…

“… Alright.” He said quietly. “I’m… here if you need me.”

He presumably laid down somewhere. She didn’t care. She was done. Done with thinking, feeling, remembering, hating, loving, all of it.

She just wanted to sleep.

“… Good… goodnight, Arti.”

“I hope you… sleep well…”

Chapter Text

The Saint awoke gently the next morning, his sleep a bit restless from yesterday’s events. He propped himself up to find the Artificer already awake, sitting in the corner and staring blankly at the floor.

“… Good morning, Arti…” Saint said tentatively.

She glanced up at him.

“… Mornin’.”

“… We should talk.”

She sat up a bit and lolled her head lazily to the side against the wall. “About what?”

“… Arti, you can’t just… ignore all of it.” Saint said, a little sadly.

A variety of things flashed across her face. Pain, realization, anger, dissatisfaction, sadness, memory. She avoided his gaze and stared, slightly indignant, at the wall.

“Watch me.” She muttered. “I’m not dealing with this.”

“Arti…” Saint said softly.

She shook her head, got to her feet and started for the shelter door.

“Artificer, please.” Saint gently pleaded, following as she left the box.

“No.” She muttered. “I’m not doing this.”

Saint drew breath, but his voice caught in his throat.

He paused and stood there for a moment, wondering if arguing would achieve anything more.

What would he achieve? 

Would it do anything more than drive them apart?

After a moment, Saint sighed and walked after her.

The two traveled in silence through the pipelines, generally trying to head upward to the shoreline proper. It gave Saint some, for once, much needed time to think.

Artificer seemed to be… dissociating, for lack of a better word. Trying to ignore how much things have changed recently. The grief of her children, the memory of the water, the echo, and… him.

Saint wasn’t sure what he meant to her at the moment. It seemed he provided her some comfort, but… part of her hated him for that. She hadn’t been close to… essentially anyone for so much time. And recently, she’d been almost… reliant on him, in an odd sense. For helping her through grief, helping her out of sorrowful moods. And she’d returned it, warming him when he was cold. He wondered if she might’ve moved closer to him in sleep that night.

He couldn’t imagine the knot of emotions in her mind after so much time spent cold, alone, and angry. All the fragmented pieces that let her receive no comfort, the ones that pleaded and the ones that snarled. He couldn’t exactly blame her for wanting to ignore it.

But the conflict would rip her apart eventually. And… he imagined it would uncomfortably soon. Their goal was on the horizon. Once Saint ascended the next iterator, he… his next destination would be the void sea. And she’d have to make a choice.

Part ways. Either there and then, or at the depths.

Or try to go with him.

He didn’t know if she wanted to ascend, but… he could imagine. She’d lived a long, long life of pain and suffering. Maybe it was tragic to know the best-case scenario was fading into non-existence with one another, but… it was better than leaving her like this. Hateful, conflicted, pained, scarred. Unable to choose whether she could go or stay.

The idea made his heart hurt. Made him want to run to her side and wrap her in his embrace and ignore everything else. Almost ironic.

Saint allowed himself a quiet sigh of longing.

He trotted a bit faster to reach the Artificer’s side, her gaze still fixed on the damp metal beneath their feet.

“… Do you know the shoreline well?” Saint asked.

She didn’t respond for a little bit.

“… Sorta.” She said quietly. “… know the way to Moon. Mostly.”

He nodded. “… Is that a nickname for the iterator?” He asked.

“… yeah.” The Artificer murmured. “Looks to the Moon. Pebs and her… nevermind.”

The two returned to silence again for a bit. They clambered out of the pipelines and into the lower tubes of the superstructure and surrounding facility. They occasionally had to swim through pools of water, which wasn’t exactly comfortable for either of them, but at least there were no more needed dives.

Saint shook water from his fur and briefly shivered, the water frigid and icy from the snow-battered coast above. He watched the Artificer walk ahead of him, feeling his heart gently ask for the warmth she might provide.

“… Arti?” Saint said, breaking the silence. “… May I ask you something?”

“… sure.” She muttered.

“… Why are you afraid of water?”

He hoped the question would be a subtle bridge towards some larger reconciliations. He imagined it had something to do with her past, but it was largely impersonal on a surface level. If nothing else… hopefully it would remind her he was there. And that he wanted to help as best he could.

She was silent in thought for a little while.

She gave an almost imperceptible sigh.

“… it’s cold. And… dark. And… constricting, I guess.” She mumbled. “Not a fan of not being able to breath.”

Saint nodded in acknowledgment, though she wasn’t facing him to see it. Stillness again, just water dripping from the ceiling and splashing in distant puddles. Saint wasn’t sure if he should press further or leave well enough alone.

They reached a massive spire pushing up and out of the pipelines, steel support struts bridging the way up to the top. Artificer began to climb, and Saint followed with his tongue. The air grew colder as they left the artificial heating and surfaced.

The two climbed out of a pipe and onto an island.

Singular mounds of scrap and steel made islands in the icy sea, the collapsed facility making an ocean floor leading to the main superstructure remnant. Towering mechanical serpents jutted out of the water, long deactivated and decayed spires of scrap hidden in the white haze. The waves shimmered with flecks of snow and glances of white and purple, swimming salamanders and massive jellyfish lazing about the surface. Beneath the tides, aquapedes writhed and prowled for prey. Even further down, in the darkest depths, Saint could swear he saw massive… things… shifting beneath the waves. Perhaps they were what caused the very waves.

“… Welcome to the shoreline.” The Artificer said dully. “We hope you hate it here.”

“… Perhaps it was more welcoming in another time.” Saint offered.

“… Not since I’ve been alive.” The Artificer muttered, starting towards the edge.

Saint trotted after her to the shore of the scrap mound, noticing small jellyfish and batflies inhabiting the metal and sand. The Artificer stared for a moment.

“… Don’t touch the jellyfish. Look out for vultures and salamanders.” She recommended. “If you feel a sense of impending doom, scream, then swim as fast as you can in a different direction. They don’t turn easy.”

“… I’m sorry?” Saint prompted, now thoroughly concerned.

“… Never seen a leviathan before?”

Saint prayed that wasn’t a name for the things he saw beneath the dark and snow, and gave a very puzzled and worried look.

“… You’ll know em’ when you see em. They’re blind and deaf, that’s what matters.” She explained, turning back to the sea. “Wasn’t joking about the screaming, by the way. It fucks with their senses.”

“… all… right.” Saint said tentatively. “… and the sense of impending doom?” 

“… They make waves.” She answered. “You’ll know when it’s happening.” 

After a moment, Saint nodded hesitantly.

The Artificer nodded in turn. “Follow me.”

The swims from island to island were anything but pleasant, but they weren’t to the point of frostbite or further physical issues, at least not yet. The Artificer swam ahead and waded through the sea with a spear she’d picked up, sweeping away swarming batflies and leeches. She occasionally looked back to check on him, which made him feel warm in an internal way. Even in her conflict and indecision… she cared enough to assure he stayed alive.

After the first two islands, things had gone relatively well. They were nearing the structure, and little had crossed their path yet.

Though on this swim, Saint noted the waves felt a bit… stronger. He thought little of it, who knows what machines still make jitters and ripples far beneath the scrap.

He heard a loud clamping of metal, far in the distance. Or perhaps not that far, just underwater.

The Artificer looked around, then quickened her pace. He did the same.

They reached the next island without incident. After a brief moment to reconcile inside the pipelines, they set back out into the water.

There were those waves again. Ripples and disturbances, far, far below. He shook them from his mind. Besides, they were almost to the main remnant.

Muffled creaking of metal seemed to sound deep below.

The Saint quickened his pace.

Further waves pushed him back, forth, back, forth.

“Artificer!” He called out. “I fear something thinks me a snack!”

“Welcome to the club!” She shouted back. “Fuckin’ move it!”

Saint continued to swim, but the disturbance followed him with ease.

Rising in his very soul was a sense that something, something massive was just below him.

He looked down.

“BY THE VOID SEA-!”

Saint barely escaped the clamping of metal jaws thrice his size, three feet thick and made of pure, albeit rusted steel. Hydraulics crushed the walls of iron together with enough force to turn him to a sludge of biomass, had he been within them, and made a sound of metal crashing against metal in a clang that rung out for a mile. The jaws retreated back into the water as a wave flung him away. He turned to swim as fast as he could before he could get a proper look at the beast.

“FUCK!” The Artificer shouted ahead of him. He saw her briefly dive below, break the surface and launch herself over to his side with a splash.

“HOLD YOUR BREATH!”

Saint obliged as she grabbed him around the torso and dove for just a moment. She crested the waves and launched into the air with a crack, inelegantly tossing him towards the closest piece of land as they flew. Saint hit the water, briefly fumbled through the bubbles and ripples, then broke the surface with a gasp and swam for it.

Another clamp, and it was worryingly close behind. He didn’t turn, but he heard something rise from the deep, then crash back into it and send cascades of water in every direction.

He swam for a little bit, his every sense yelling to run, swim, fly, dive, whatever for his life. He felt the waves begin to close in, and tossed his weight in the opposite direction he’d been going. There were the jaws again, clamping down and deafening him.

Another crack, the Artificer landed on him and launched again the second she escaped the water. His nose burned from taking in water as he flew, hit the sea, tumbled through the wave. He thrashed his way up and swam as fast as he could for the shore.

The Artificer twirled over his head with sparks flying from her body and landed on the scrap-covered shore. He felt his instincts shout in urgent fear, felt the waves rising and rising as he neared it. He stuck his tongue to cold metal and pulled himself forward as it all came to a peak.

He tumbled onto the shoreline, rolled and ended up on his back as the leviathan broke the surface.

An abhorrently huge serpent of biomass coated in rusted steel launched out of the water ten, fifteen, twenty feet in the air, and it’s tail was still beneath the surface. Soaked moss and seaweed coated the automaton’s skin and glistened in the snow as it briefly paused in the air, its hydraulic crushing jaws supported by a skull of steel clamping shut as it peaked. The sound of the water seemed to pause as it leapt out, the sheer force with which it swam and broke the surface sending crushing cascaded in every direction. The decayed, moss-covered giant of engineering began to fall with a great creaking and bending of it’s metal joints.

Saint scrambled away as it slammed into the shoreline and crushed scraps several feet deeper into the sea, it’s mouth grinding open as the massive crashing of water showered the mound of scrap they stood on. The titanium titan slithered back into the water, droplets flinging from it’s fur of underwater plant life as it flipped over and crashed back into the ocean. The biomechanical monster dissolved into the dark waves and disappeared.

Saint sat there on the shore, catching his breath and shivering from a mixture of cold and fear.

“… Void.” Saint muttered.

“… Yeah.” The Artificer affirmed behind him. “… You- alright?”

“… As well as I can be.” He answered.

After a moment, the Artificer walked over and helped him up.

…

“… We’re about there.” She said a little tensely. “She’s… just a bit that way.”

Saint looked to where she pointed, to the ruins not far ahead.

“… Alright.”

They started forward.

The collapsed superstructure was not the destructive spectacle of Five Pebbles. In fact, Saint found it rather pretty. Flies buzzed through the tunnels and dead circuits, jellyfish and bioluminescent plants floated around the flooded metal. It was far more compact, modest, almost welcoming with how full it was of plant life.

Though… Saint noticed something odd.

It was rather warm in the ruins. Even in the more open areas, he felt his coldness dissipating, as if by the natural heat of an active machine. And occasionally, these… resonances of generators and whirring circuits would play, like parts of the iterator deactivating and reactivating.

And as they grew closer, as his senses pinged and guided him… the gravity felt different.

Saint pushed his concerns away as they crawled through another set of tunnels.

They exited to find the remains of a shattered puppet chamber, a hole in it near the bottom they could enter through. The Artificer jumped down a few ledges and waded through the shallow pool of water towards it. Saint paused at the ledge, then started after her.

He saw no puppet at the bottom of the chamber. But he heard whirring, buzzing, humming.

The Artificer climbed onto a small outcrop in the pool of water at the bottom of the chamber, and looked up. Saint hesitantly did the same.

And there she was.

An active mechanical goddess, suspended midair by her mechanical arm as she tapped about flickering holograms. Several overseers projected holograms and visuals of languages long dead, soft resonances of a resurrected deity emanating from the chamber.

Looks to the Moon turned over to the slugcats.

Her metal skin was only slightly faded, a light shade of gentle blue contrasted by a vibrant pink circle on her forehead. A ragged, torn, but fitting cloak hung around her shoulders and swayed as she floated. An array of six, no, seven neurons floated around her head, flashing different colors and glowing.

She gave a slight gasp with her digitized voice, sweet and welcoming.

“Hello little creatures!” She exclaimed excitedly, hovering over to them, the mechanical arm sliding across the ceiling. “My, I haven’t seen one of your kind in…”

Her voice trailed off.

“… Little Artificer?”

The Artificer stared for a moment.

“… Yeah.” She said hesitantly. “… Hey, Moon.”

Moon wore an expression of surprise for a moment, then hovered back a bit.

“… My. I… I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.” She said softly. “I assumed you would’ve left, after…”

She looked away and briefly sighed.

“… Never mind. Come, sit.” She prompted, hovering to a small island of metal in the center of the chamber’s pool and sitting down. “You’re always welcome to rest. And tell me, who’s your little friend?”

“… Saint.” The Artificer answered. She looked over to him for proper introduction.

Saint did not speak.

“… Saint?” Artificer repeated.

“… It appears your friend is not marked, little friend.” Moon said gently. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to communicate. I’m sure you could translate for me, though!”

The Artificer stared at The Saint for a moment, seeming puzzled, perhaps suspicious.

His gaze was fixed on the iterator.

She was still active.

She was surviving, she was living. She had overseers, remaining neurons, pieces of her facility still active. Her chamber still had gravity modifications, she could float, speak, think, remember. And she seemed… happy.

And the cycle had sent him to end that.

Saint hadn’t yet seen an iterator this… functional, in all his recent expeditions. They were all half-deactivated, rotted, broken by the snow. Puppets freezing in the cold, most with little memory. Even more were outright corpses, buried beneath mounds of scrap with no mind to say goodbye. But Looks to the Moon still had a life to live. Decayed, damaged, small as it was… she had it.

And he was supposed to take that away from her.

It was almost insulting. That he was tasked to so cruelly break the cycle of a creature who… likely wasn’t ready to leave yet.

Saint stared a moment more.

He started into the water and waded through to the island where Moon sat. He clambered up and sat down, glancing back at the Artificer. After a moment, she followed him.

“I hope you are comfortable, little friends. I’m relatively positive my chamber is shielded from the cold, but I am far from informed.” Moon said, tilting her head slightly and causing her wires to sway behind her. “How have you been faring, little savior?”

The Artificer seemed to flinch slightly at the nickname.

“… Y’know. Living.” She answered hesitantly, looking away. “I was… mostly just hanging around the- the arrays for a bit. Until… Saint… came along.”

Moon nodded. “Is that your title, little friend?” She asked, turning to Saint.

He thought for a moment, then nodded, smiling politely. Moon did not have a mouth, but her eyes smiled in return.

“I’m glad you found a friend, little Artificer.” The goddess said gently. 

Artificer did not reply for a bit.

“… Hey, uh… where’s…” The Artificer began to ask. “… where’s Rivulet?”

Looks to the Moon paused and tilted her head a bit.

“… I’m sorry, memory doesn’t serve me.” She explained. “Give me a moment.”

She stared blankly for a moment, her neurons flickering.

“… Oh.”

The Artificer began to look a little worried.

“I- I… I’m not sure how to present this…” Moon admitted quietly.

“… The water dancer went to ascend long ago.”

The Artificer stared blankly for a bit.

Saint did not know what they spoke of, but he could feel the emotions in the air. 

“… I’m sorry.” Moon said softly. “I know you two worked very hard to save me, at… Five Pebbles’ wish. I’d… hoped you’d gained a little care for Ruffles, but he… had to part ways eventually.”

The Artificer turned away so neither of the deities could see her face.

She again didn’t speak for a bit.

“… yeah.” She muttered, sounding indignant. “I get it.”

The conversation went quiet for a while. One of Looks to the Moon’s overseers popped up next to her and showed her a hologram, which she examined for the length of the silence. Though it more seemed she was just avoiding the Artificer’s eyes.

Saint watched patiently, trying to decide what to do.

“… If you… don’t mind my asking…” Moon began, turning back to the rodents. “How is…”

“… How is he doing?”

The Artificer was quiet for a bit.

“… He’s gone.”

…

Looks to the Moon sighed sadly.

Things seemed so… still.

Just the resonances of a forgotten goddess, and the trickling of water.

Not… bitter. Or angry.

Just… mournful.

Melancholic.

Moon looked up, to a hole in her chamber ceiling that cast a ray of dim light down onto her face.

“… The cold is worsening, my little friends.” She said solemnly. “It is… probably best if you go soon. There is still a shelter just near my chamber, I know that.”

Stillness for a moment. Saint glanced at his companion.

The Artificer stood up.

“… Alright.”

Saint got up with her and nodded to Moon in thanks. The goddess returned it.

“… You are always welcome here, little friends. I’m sorry this… reunion, I suppose, ended so soon.” She reminded them. “… Goodbye for now.”

The Artificer stood at the edge of the island for a bit.

“… See you later, Moon.” She said quietly. “… thanks.”

The slugcats crawled into the shelter just a brief wriggle away from the puppet chamber, and sat down. The structure rumbled for a moment as they sat in silence.

Saint stared just below the Artificer’s gaze, silent in thought.

“… Why didn’t you… do it?” The Artificer asked after a bit.

It took a moment for Saint to find his voice.

“… She’s still alive.” He said simply. “She has a life left to live, and not a painful one. Perhaps… lonely. Shaky, frail. Not… not a life I think she’d be willing to give up.”

…

“… So… what now?”

“… Now… there is a choice.”

Saint looked up and met the Artificer’s gaze.

“… I have a… a proposition. For you, Artificer.” He said softly.

“I am… willing to delay my ascension of Looks to the Moon.” He explained tentatively. “And therefore, my task, if it means I have more time to help you. To help ease your pain, perhaps guide you towards something like redemption. I would be tending to a being that cannot ascend, as is my responsibility, and I would give Looks to the Moon a little more time.”

“But… that means you have to try.”

“You’d have to want. To commit, to put your soul proper into redemption, into betterment for the sake of betterment. To feel your pain, to reconcile, to cease ignoring and disassociating from your grief and your rage. Perhaps to find more echoes. If… otherwise…”

“… then I would have nothing else to give you.”

“… I’d… give Moon her last rites, make sure she was at… something like peace. And then… depart for the void. It breaks my heart to say this but… in the end, I have to leave.”

“The best thing I can do is… give you the choice to do the same. With, or without me.”

The Artificer stared silently for a bit.

He saw many things flicker across her face. Rage, bitterness, sorrow, understanding.

He hated this about himself. That any meaningful relationship he’d ever had would be tagged with an asterisk. That it would end in tragic separation or bittersweet non-existence.

Did the Artificer want to ascend?

He didn’t yet know.

“… You can’t expect me to do this.” The Artificer said, breaking the silence.

“… I don’t know what else to do.” Saint replied.

“Bullshit. There has to be- something.” She denied. “It- it doesn’t…” 

“I can’t stay forever, Arti.” Saint said sadly. “It just doesn’t work like that.” 

“No! Y-you- you can’t just up and leave!” The Artificer yelled. “You can’t just- drop this bullshit on me all of a sudden!”

“I’m sorry, Arti, but I-”

“If you’re sorry, why can’t you stay?!” She asked, almost pleadingly. “Why can’t you just be here?! You’re the only good thing to happen to me in seven hundred fucking cycles, I- I can’t…”

“I swear, I’m not leaving you.” Saint tried to assure her, pleading in his voice. “I will stay with you for as long as I can if it means a single extra joy for you, but I have responsibilities. The cycle will collapse the sky if I need to be disciplined, and I speak from experience.” 

“You can’t just expect me to- to decide!” The Artificer yelled. “You can’t just make me go through hell just to stay with you! You don’t know how much this fucking hurts, you-!”

“YOU’RE JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!!!”

Saint flinched at her tone.

“YOU’RE JUST GOING TO LEAVE!! BECAUSE I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!!”

“Artificer, that’s not what this is, I-!”

“SHUT UP!!” She roared. “I’M NOT DOING THIS!!! THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO, IF I’M NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU, THEN LEAVE!!”

Saint recoiled. There were tears in the Artificer’s eyes.

“If- if this isn’t good enough for y-you, then fine!” She cried. “Leave. Leave in the morning. Like everyone else fucking does… everything…”

She turned away and curled up in the corner, pulling her ears down to the sides of her head.

“Arti, please, don’t-” Saint pleaded, crawling over to her.

“No. I can’t.” She muttered. “I’m- I’m not…”

Saint paused, hesitating.

“… I can…” He began.

“No. Go away.” The Artificer muttered. “I don’t want your help.”

Saint recoiled, feeling a tear create itself behind his eye.

He felt so horrible for so many reasons.

“… I… I’m sorry, Artificer.” He said quietly. “I’m… sorry, please, just…”

He reached out to her. She turned so her scarred eye faced him and glared viciously, her tears barely visible beneath her cauterized skin.

He slowly walked back to the other side of the shelter.

“… Don’t touch me.” The Artificer muttered, turning away again. 

Saint stood there, his mind desperately grasping at… something. Something he could do, change, something to fix things. 

He couldn’t find it. 

Tears in his own eyes, he curled up in the corner. 

“… I’m sorry, Arti…” He murmured, hoping it was loud enough to hear despite his voice being so small. 

“… I’m… sorry.” 

Saint awoke from a fitful sleep the next morning, preparing for some variety of heartbreak. The fur around his cheeks was slightly damp from quiet tears.

He readied himself to see her gone, lost permanently. Disappeared to nowhere, never to be seen again, because he failed. Because despite all he did, he would never be able to help. 

How could a god ever help a mortal? So significant, so permanent. In such a way that they could never be together. He’d set her up for another heartbreak. 

He’d only ever hurt her more. 

How foolish is the knife, to try and untie the knot. To deny it’s purpose.

He turned. 

She was still there. 

Chapter Text

The two stared for a moment. The Artificer’s expression was one of… conflicted, pained indecision.

Saint twitched, stammering the beginning of her name and stepping forward before recoiling. As if to hug her, take her hand, question and confirm that she was even real.

“A-Arti…?” He managed.

She looked to the ground by her side, avoiding his gaze.

“… yeah.” She muttered. “… that’s me.”

Saint stared for another moment.

“… Wh- why… did you…?”

He didn’t finish the question, but he didn’t need to. It was obvious.

She took a deep breath and sighed.

“… I… was up. Early. Last night.” She said quietly.

“… and… there was an… an echo.”

The Artificer awoke from a fitful, hateful sleep, anguish still throbbing in her chest with each beat of her heart. She’d barely been able to fall asleep, much less get anything out of it. Especially because she knew Saint was probably doing the same.

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t. That he’d make her do this. That he had to leave. Because he was a god. And she was a demon.

There was never any point.

She felt more tears manifest in her eyes again.

She heard the shelter doors begin to rumble.

After a moment, she begrudgingly raised her head to look at it. Her sense of time said it was still night, or somewhere around that term, and the shelter shouldn’t have opened yet. Saint was still curled silently up in the corner, like she always slept. 

Like she always slept. Cold, sad, and alone.

She apathetically moved for the door and crawled outside, something feeling… off. She stepped out into the tunnels by Looks to the Moon’s chamber and looked around. It was… somewhat cold. Not like she’d be able to tell if it wasn’t. Her skin felt like ice, starved of anything but violence.

She shook her head and moved for one of the pipes, the one leading to Moon’s chamber. There she could check. Or maybe just… talk.

She headed out, feeling numb. Hollow, dull. And yet so full of emotion. Down the ledge, through the pool. She stood at the chamber’s edge and looked up.

Moon floated in the center of her chamber, almost completely still, her torn and bleached cloak swaying gently in unseen wind. She stared up at the hole in her ceiling, where that glow of sunlight always shone through.

“… Moon?”

The goddess’s head swayed to meet Artificer’s eyes, and paused for a moment.

“… You feel it to, don’t you?” She buzzed.

“… Feel… what?” The Artificer asked, confused.

“Them.”

The slugcat stared in confusion for a moment.

In the furthest depths of her senses, in the back of her ears, she heard a sort of… howl.

A golden flake drifted down from the ceiling of the chamber, and dissolved.

“… Go on.” Moon prompted, floating down to the center island. “They are waiting. Our cycles will meet again.”

The Artificer stammered, her voice catching in her throat as she watched the flakes of gold fall through the blue haze she only now noticed was present.

She looked to Moon in half bewilderment, a million thoughts firing through her head as time drifted and swayed.

The goddess nodded her head towards the top of her chamber.

Artificer looked up, to the access shaft she’d indicated.

She paused for a while.

…

Something told her she should.

She swallowed her fear, shook her head, and jumped for it. The low gravity present in Moon’s chamber propelled her to the ceiling, where she tentatively crawled inside.

Up through what once was her access shaft, up, up and up. The blue haze only grew, along with the resonances. Gently jingling wind chimes, blowing wind, shimmering lights turned to sound. She found herself outside, in the snowstorm, climbing past ancient tapestries of the five karma symbols. The first seemed burned into her mind as she almost numbly pushed through the wind.

She didn’t know why she was doing this.

She didn’t know why she was doing anything.

She was on the rooftop of the can now. The chimes grew louder, accompanied by these great cries. Shrill and echoing resonances of a voice unheard, like the cries of a wounded animal, or… someone in deep grief. Ethereal and whistling in the screaming wind.

Just her and the wind, and the haze, and the rain of golden scales.

It was so cold.

She found herself thinking of Saint.

Of herself.

Of… life.

How she’d chosen to live it.

How she should choose to live it.

She crawled through a tunnel to meet the echo.

It was massive. She didn’t know if the others had been this large, but it felt as if this one hadn’t dissolved as much. It’s tendrils swayed and flailed in the wind and warped space, leaving an array of shining gold all around it. It’s head turned to face her where she stood. On the edge of the can, looking down on the whole shoreline.

“… Ah. Is this some kind of insult?” The dissolved mass radiated scornfully. “A rat to observe my sufferings? How kind, great void, how kind.”  

The Artificer stared up at it, anguish in her eye.

“Do you know what you stand on, rodent?”  It asked. “You stand on my legacy. Our legacy. The remnant of a civilization that meant everything, now just dust.”

“Do you know what I gave? What I worked for? No. No one, nothing does.” It spat, flakes and tendrils waving haughtily. “Architecture, engineering, politics, religions, gods, heresy!”

“All for a hunk of rusted metal in a pool of frozen water, perched atop by a malformed rat.”

“I placed my faith into the hands of random gods.”

“Now I must endure it to the end.”

It looked out to the shoreline, bitter and resentful.

The Artificer knew it could not hear her.

She did not even know why she wanted to speak.

But all her anguish, all her rage, her hate, grief, building for days in eternal conflict. She found herself in the eye of the storm, and it filled her lungs with a need.

She drew breath.

“DON’T YOU GET IT?!?”  

“DO YOU REALLY NOT UNDERSTAND?!”

She shouted with all her chest and will, voice full of a hundred cycles of gravel and the roar of an apex predator. The echo did not turn.

“IS THIS WORTH THAT LITTLE TO YOU?! IS SHE WORTH THAT LITTLE TO YOU?!”

“YOU MADE THIS TO LEAVE, TO GET OUT OF THIS FUCKING HELL, AND IT’S THE DAMN REASON YOU’RE STILL HERE! YOU CAN’T LET IT CHANGE!”

The echo seemed to notice her silent shouting, turning it’s head slightly.

“… I can’t hear you, mouse. That’s not how this works.”

She didn’t care.

“You’re bitter. You’re shallower than the pool of water this wreck is laying in.” She spat, still not really knowing why. “You can’t accept it, can’t accept things will be fucking different one day. You built this, this- this legacy, and for what?!”

“For nothing?! NO!!”

“This is everything!! This is life for countless creatures, this is home for a revived goddess!” She shouted. “This is everything other than a hunk of metal, and the only reason you’re still here to look at it is because you can’t accept that!”

“Haven’t you ever wondered if it’s time to change?! To pick yourself the fuck up, to stop digging this damn hole and do something different?! Nothing, NOTHING here is a constant!”

“Who gives a fuck if this was once a robotic god?! Who cares about your past revolutions, rusted monuments and dead politics?! Your sky-high superstructures?!? NOBODY!!”

“But people care about this!” The Artificer shouted, pointing to the wall of broken metal behind her. “About this rusted hunk of metal in a pool of frozen water, and guess what, dipshit, YOU MADE THIS!! You did something meaningful!! You gave life, home, hope! All through this stupid, scarred, broken, angry, grieving, decayed piece of shit!!!”

“AND ALL YOU CAN THINK ABOUT IS WHAT IT WAS BEFORE!!!”

The Artificer stood inches from the ledge, a tear in her eye and breathing heavy from shouting.

The echo stared at her with something like contempt.

“… If only I had eyes to read your lips, rodent.” The ghost called. “Then maybe I would stand to gain something from your presence next to mine.”

The Artificer straightened her posture a bit.

“… No.” She spat. “Even then. It wouldn’t matter.”

“Of course it wouldn’t.”

“… of course.”

She stared out into the shoreline below, neath’ the bitter and dissolved memory.

”… Nothing changes you.” 

…

“… Dammit, Arti…”

Saint stared in some form of awe as she finished the story.

“… That’s… it.” She murmured. “It… never said anything else.”

Saint tried to unravel why she was even telling him this. Her quiet, vague description of her own words against the echo implied… a lot of things, but still they escaped him.

He finally found his voice.

“A-Arti, I’m so sorry.” He apologized desperately. “I was so closed-minded; I should have known better. I-I was- scared, and it hurt so much to see you tear yourself apart, but I should have-”

“Saint, just- stop.” She interjected.

Saint recoiled slightly in fear of what she might say next.

He saw her fists clench as she seemed to steel herself, her eye closing briefly.

“… I… I want… to…”

The words seemed to be physically difficult to say.

She sighed through her nose, avoiding his gaze.

“… I-I…”

She growled angrily and held her face in her hands. “God, dammit, Arti…!” She muttered.

“… What’s wrong?” Saint asked tentatively.

“You-!” She began to shout, then stopped, growling angrily again and hiding her face.

She paused.

She took a deep breath, then muttered a curse.

…

“… I want to be… better.” She said quietly. “… god, I want to be better. And- and I-”

She suddenly stepped over, took his hands in hers and-

“Help me. Please.” She whispered. “I’m so tired of being this mess that I am. This- this abomination. And you make it so much easier. All of it. My- my past, the guilt, my kids.”

Saint’s heart skipped a few beats in his chest and flooded his cheeks with an enthralling warmth.

“I’m so tired of this. I hate myself so much. I don’t give a shit about when you have to leave, or the void, or whatever forces out there that you have to abide by, I just want to leave this world without making it a worse place. I just want to fucking change. I don’t want to end up like- like that fucker up there.”

“Please, Saint.”

“I want to be better. I swear, I do.”

He felt frozen in place for a moment. All the repressed emotion in her face, a thousand feelings finally let free without guilt or annoyance. A conflict resolved, a true purpose found.

“… I know, Arti.” He assured her. “I know.”

“I will do all I can. Till the void consumes the sky.”

She paused for a moment, then hugged him.

He returned it with all the strength he could muster.

The held for a moment, breathing one another in. Saint struggled to remember if they’d ever shared such an unrestrained moment, no reservations or conflicts, only care.

The Artificer struggled to remember if she’d ever shared a moment like this with anyone.

Her heart began to race. So warm, so light, so softly enjoyable in a way that made her almost giddy. And she hated it so much, but she knew it was right. She tried to hold onto it.

She hesitantly pulled away. Saint squeezed her tighter for just a moment, then allowed her to step away.

She didn’t meet his gaze, looking slightly away.

Saint gave a quiet sigh.

“… I’m proud of you, Artificer.” He said softly. “I know that must’ve been hard.”

She gave a dissatisfied huff.

“… Saint, I… what if I can’t?” She asked, looking up tentatively. “What- what if… I’m not… enough?”

“I’m certain you are.” Saint assured her.

She turned away, seeming unconvinced.

“… What if- if I… hurt someone?” She asked. “Its so hard to even… remember who I am, I… I get angry easy…”

“It will be difficult.” Saint said, stepping slightly closer. “But it is possible. I swear that.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“… I wish I believed you.” She muttered. “… wish I believed myself when I said that, too.”

Saint nodded solemnly. “I understand. Truly, I do.” He gently leaned over to enter her peripheral vision. “Tell you what. How about we find something to eat, accompany our mechanical friend for the day, and leave tomorrow? I think we’re deserving of a break.”

“… Don’t we have, like, a… time limit?” She asked. “Before the- fucken… worm pond sends some eldritch shit to make you do your job?”

Saint gave a slightly pained sigh. “Yes. But that is farther than I made clear, and I will know when it begins. I really should’ve specified the conditions of my eventual leave more…”

Something occurred to him as his voice trailed off.

“… What did you call it?”

“… The void sea.” The Artificer answered after a moment.

“… Hm.” Saint affirmed.

…

“… Well, if that’s settled. How’s about we go find lunch?”

After a day of lightly fishing for jellyfish, and catching up with Moon, the two returned to the same shelter. The Artificer still felt a bit conflicted, perhaps stressed, but not to the point of slowly looming emotional breakdown. That was a nice change of pace.

She stretched, then sighed as she laid down, the shelter doors closing. She laid on her stomach for a moment, staring at the wall.

“Is something wrong?” Saint asked. His voice made her ears twitch.

“… No.” She lied without meaning too. She rolled over and looked away for a moment.

“… Yes.” She amended, again rolling to face him. “I still feel…” Her voice lost motivation to leave, and she felt her emotions curling inward and hiding.

“… Unproductive?” Saint suggested. “That’s understandable after such a large resolution.”

She hated how his gaze felt on her. She hated how weak she felt. She hated how much she wanted to recoil and ignore him.

“… I do indeed have plans for that.”

She looked up just slightly.

“You made a large change today. You healed a lot today.” He explained. “… I believe I can heal another of your scars.”

She shifted slightly.

“… huh.” She murmured. “… schemer, eh.”

Saint chuckled slightly. “Perhaps I suggested a break for a reason.”

She rolled to her stomach, chin supported on her forearms and sighed.

“It’s okay if you’d prefer to wait.” He offered gently. “I understand.”

She thought about it for a moment.

“… which one?” She asked, glancing sideways at him. Her mind flickered across her body, scanning over her eternal burns. Her sealed shut eye, her right side always plagued by a discomforting itch and gentle heat. The irritation on her inner leg, the tenderness at the tip of her tail, and the nearby numbness that Saint had fixed.

“… The other one on your tail seems best for our circumstance.” He said. “At the tip, opposite the larger one in the middle.”

“… yeah.” She murmured. “… Sure.”

“You’re-?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure.” She interjected. “Get it over with before the bitch in the back of my head convinces me I’m not.”

Saint laughed slightly and moved over to her. She swept her tail’s end closer to him and stayed laying on her stomach.

“How does this one pain you?” He asked, scooting closer to reach the wound.

“… It’s… tender.” She answered, the rather soft and vulnerable word tasting odd in her mouth. “… essentially the whole way around. Ends where the scar does.”

“Alright. I’ll be gentle.” He assured her. “Tell me if you feel any discomfort, natural or not.”

He cupped the end of her tail in his hand, so his palm was against the burn, and hovered his hand over the top.

She felt his hands grow cold, then felt that force plucking at the strings of her being. Threading through, a rising warmth moving slowly from her tail to her legs and beginning to pulse in her chest. 

It felt wonderful. Like her very soul was being cradled. Warm and soft like a blanket, a writhing rush of energy in her heart, something unlike adrenaline. She wished so dearly to revel in it, close her eyes and let it overwhelm her. She never felt so whole, so unified and certain, with Saint gently caressing even the roughest of her edges. Gentle and calming. 

But still she kept her eye narrowed slightly, a look of dissatisfaction that wasn’t entirely false. Part of her still hated the way her skin tingled at his touch.

It really did feel like she was an instrument being played, a thread being sewn and stitched, a string being plucked. She could almost see it, an outside force weaving through her worn linen ties and frayed ends to find a knot. Intrusive, but so careful and kind.

Something in her soul shifted, and she physically shuddered. It was definitely a good shudder, if a bit frightening. For a moment she reveled in the feeling of lightness, untethered and unified, centered within his embrace. In the arms of a deity.

And then she was back in reality, feeling… a lot of things. Her face was a little hot.

“Sorry, I must’ve been a bit careless…” Saint said apologetically. “If you’d like, I can stop.” 

“N-no, no, it’s… fine.” She mumbled, turning away. “… keep going.” 

It didn’t really feel like he’d made a mistake, or intruded where he shouldn’t have. Maybe he’d just prodded a tender spot in her soul. 

She didn’t know how she felt about said spot’s existing. 

Though she still felt an excited, but… relaxed comfort rushing through her veins. One that made her… happy.

She gave a quiet sigh.

Eventually, Saint withdrew, leaving her feeling a little… lonely with the lack of his presence. She frowned slightly at the wall without meaning too.

“I believe I’ve found it.” Saint said. “Do you mind telling me how you got it?”

She wracked her mind for a moment.

“… From a failed launch, I think.” She answered. “The bomb-jump thingy happens in my tail, I think. I… took a spear to the tail, then overused it in a fight.” She paused a moment. “… Probably why it’s… tender all around.”

Saint nodded. “… Do you remember the emotional consequences?”

She again thought for a moment.

“… I… I was…” Her voice trailed off, and she sighed.

“… Scared, I think. It was… one of the first scars I got, and it… hurt. A lot.” She explained. “And I remember just… being in a shelter, alone. Trying to stop the bleeding. And I was so- so… terrified that something like it would happen again. Something worse, I- I hadn’t… ever been hurt that bad before...”

“… But I’d… already made my choices.”

“And there was… nothing I could do.”

Saint was quiet for a moment.

“… Alright.” Saint affirmed slightly. “… That was good. I’m glad you were able to let it out easier.”

She did not reply.

“… Think you’re ready?”

“… mmhm.”

She heard Saint take a deep breath, again cupping the wound in one hand and clasping her tail in the other.

She felt every ripple within her being, the slow, delicate movements. Her tail buzzed and occasionally hurt a bit, but it felt… good. Like a breath of fresh air after so long underground. Made her feel all fuzzy inside, like she was cozy and safe. The safe part was nice. Close, comfortable, quiet…

She yawned, wondering if shutting her eyes was all that bad of an idea.

Her right eye drifted shut to join its counterpart without her asking it too. She felt light, and warm, and safe. Cared for and protected. All the things she hadn’t felt in forever.

She could stay here forever.

Just reveling in it.

Forever.

Saint finished the untying of the knot, and pulled out of his meditative state. He briefly took a breath to recompose himself, and to slow his heart, and looked to his companion.

“It is done.” He said softly. She made no move to reply.

He waited patiently for a bit. She did not move.

“… Arti?”

Nothing. He crawled over to see her other eye.

She was asleep.

He smiled to himself.

She was so adorable when she slept like that. He kept his smile when he moved back to her tail.

He gently prodded at it, to see if she made any reaction in unconscious. If it was still tender, not rough and solid like the rest of her skin, she would react. She did not.

Saint sighed contentedly to himself, then moved up by her side. He gazed down at her sleeping form for a moment.

Delicate and flickering, a spark rather than cinder. Something to be shielded, something weak and new, but something that could be so, so much more. Beautiful.

He thought for a moment.

…

Perhaps… just one indulgence might do him some good.

Just one small one.

He slowly leaned down to her forehead…

She stirred, his face just inches from her head, and he recoiled.

He stopped there for a moment.

Perhaps… it wasn’t the time. 

He sat slowly back up, and then sighed.

One day.

One day…

Saint laid down by her side and watched wistfully for a while, listening to her breathing and the muffled wind outside. He found a gentle smile across his lips as he waited.

He let his vision close when it most wanted to and drifted into sleep.

Chapter Text

The Artificer’s eyes flickered open groggily, an unfamiliar fog of sleep over her mind.

She was still laying on her stomach, arms and legs stretched out as much as the shelter allowed her. She felt uniquely rested, reinvigorated.

When had she fallen asleep? That was the first question that entered her mind. She barely remembered the events of last night at the moment.

Her senses emitted a buzz, coming from the end of her tail. It felt… normal. As normal as her normal skin was. She’d been patiently allowing Saint to heal her scars, that’s what happened last night. But she couldn’t recall the aftermath. Perhaps she’d just been too tired, already half asleep.

She glanced back and tapped her tail against the metal floor. It was… healed.

She paused a moment, then sighed.

There were all those feelings again. The conflicts and doubts.

It was… a little easier. She wasn’t fighting against the mere idea of changing anymore. She’d… tried to get a handle on what she wanted.

Tried.

She tried to roll over to her back, but bumped into something soft. Saint, closer to her than she expected. He stirred slightly, and she briefly tensed.

He murmured something indistinct and rolled over. The deity’s eyes flickered, casting gentle blue light onto the darkened shelter. He blinked a few times and looked up.

“Sorry…” The Artificer mumbled, propping herself up. “Didn’t… see you.”

“… That’s alright.” Saint said sleepily, stretching. “… How’s your tail?”

“… G- Good.” She answered. The… outwardly positive remark tasted odd in her mouth.

“That’s good.” He said, smiling softly. “… Did you sleep well?”

She thought for a moment.

“… fine.”  

Saint nodded, then paused as well. They stared for a moment.

That… ache in her chest made itself known again. It always seemed to when their eyes met for too long. She turned a bit away and quietly cleared her throat.

“… If we’re waiting for the door to open, I suppose I’ll lay back down.”

He did just that, rolling to his side to continue facing her. After a moment, she did the same, resting her cheek on crossed arms.

“… I’m happy for you, Artificer.” Saint said quietly. “I’m glad you could come to terms with some of this, especially with my… less then ideal prodding making things difficult.”

She was silent for a moment.

“… yeah.” She murmured, looking forward. “… yeah.”

“… What now?”  She asked.

“… I believe the best option would be to search for echos.” Saint answered. “While the bulk of betterment is done through time, echoes are helpful and lifting, and it would be easier to move with a goal rather than just wander.”

The Artificer paused again.

“… I think I… know where some echoes are.” She offered.

“… That would be helpful.” Saint said after a moment. “… Have you neared others as you did with the soul in the canopy?”

“… Yeah.” She affirmed. “One in the… old tramways, one in the farm arrays. I’ve passed by em’ a few times, but… I dunno where exactly. Just an idea.”

Saint nodded, sitting up. “Any idea what route we could take?”

“… Could go back through the pipes. Then the complex. Then the outskirts. Then the farm.” She thought for a moment. “… Actually, no. I’m not doing that.”

Saint chuckled. “I’ll cross it off the list.”

“That leaves the… wastes… and the drainage system.” She said, sitting up next to Saint. “… So, essentially just the drainage system.”

Saint nodded. “… Is that your choice?”

“… I guess. Its better than going cross-country to the arrays.” She explained. “The tramways connect to the drainage system, for… some reason. And we should be able to make it through without to many dives. At least less than the pipes.”

“… Sounds good.”

They waited a little longer before the shelter doors rumbled open. The Artificer stood up. Saint slid back down and stretched, his hands and feet brushing the edge of the shelter. She found her heart did a little skip. She looked away and idly twirled her fingers together.

Saint sighed as he relaxed, then stood up. Artificer did the same, and they set out.

Their travels back across the shoreline were difficult at first, though easier once they reached the central islands. Collections of scrap, dirt and sand rich with plant life and scoured by salamanders and vultures. Saint found a snack on some bubble fruit as they hid from a vulture. That was the highlight up till now.

The Artificer felt… odd. She didn’t know what to feel. She’d finally… found herself. Said it out loud, defined what she wanted and just for a moment, shut up that damn voice in the back of her head.

She wanted to change.

She wanted to be better.

She could say that now.

But what did it change?

…

“… Saint?” She asked into the humid air.

“Hm?”

“… Shouldn’t I be… doing- something?” She questioned hesitantly. “I- I dunno, I just feel… like… like I haven’t changed. I’ve said I want to, but…” Her voice trailed off.

“… I understand. Its reasonable.” Saint assured her gently. Despite her claims she’d found herself, the way his voice lessened any tightness in her chest was something she still didn’t know how to feel about.

“You don’t need to be constantly thinking about it.” He explained. “You struggle with anger and deep-seated grief, in summary. I’ll try to nudge you in the right direction when I can, but at the moment, you have been doing just fine.” He smiled softly at her. “You have been changing. Now, you’ve simply reconciled with that.”

She thought for a moment.

“… That’d be really helpful if it… made me feel like I was doing something.” She muttered. “… which it doesn’t.”

Saint chuckled slightly. “… Well. Put simply, I’d tell you to loosen up.”

She gave him a thoroughly unimpressed expression.

“You. Want me. To loosen up?” She repeated.

“That is what I said.” Saint said, amused.

The Artificer scoffed. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you have loosened up.”

She paused for a moment.

“… Fuck you.”

Saint laughed aloud. The most annoying part of that was it made her want to laugh too. A smile tugged disobediently at her mouth.

She thought about it for a moment.

It kind of pained a part of her, but she allowed herself a slight grin.

“Yeah. Real comedy gold, that was.” She joked.

“Oh… perhaps not, no…” Saint admitted through his giggles. “Regardless, the tone has… completely blindsided me.”

She chuckled slightly, then felt a pang of anger at herself.

Her expression became conflicted, then neutral.

Saint’s laughter petered out, the sound creating a variety of conflicting feelings in her.

“My… Humor aside, I think it best to simply try not to stress.” Saint said. “You are doing fine.”

She murmured an acknowledgment, then mulled over the words for a bit. She felt the unwanted emotions bubbling painfully in her chest as she did so.

Maybe it… was better to relax.

She took a deep breath.

…

The shoreline was pretty.

She felt a bit better.

The two met the shore of the mound and stopped. The Artificer could see a familiar spot ahead, usually guarded by salamanders preying on whatever tried to swim by. And monster kelp that preyed on the salamanders. She let her instincts take over again, though she still tried to maintain some air of lightness.

“… You know what monster kelp is, right?” She asked Saint.

“… Vaguely.” He answered.

“… That’s a no.” She corrected. “Imagine a pole plant that stopped being afraid. Like the wing of a vulture wrapped in seaweed and hatred.”

“… Fitting name.” Saint admitted. “Can’t say I’ve seen any plant life that fits that description.”

“Follow my lead, and we should be fine.” She said, briefly looking over the island before picking up a suitable spear. “Yell if you see a salamander. If something brushes your leg, assume it wants to eat you.”

“Will do.”

They started into the water.

She kept her eyes beneath the waves, looking for flashes of pink or purple in the water. She could see the dark arms of monster kelp collected on the ground, swaying in the waves, twitching when something brushed too close by. But nonetheless, it was just the wind, snow and waves. The stillness was agonizing.

She glanced behind at Saint, checking for threats.

“On your left!” She shouted.

Saint briefly glanced before swimming to his right. A tentacle of monster kelp reached slightly out of the water and groped at the air, the plant life stuck to the tendril flicking water across the snow.

Saint gave a brief exclamation and quickened his pace. Artificer treaded water to wait for him, looking around.

The kelp were awake now. No doubt the salamanders would follow. She swore she could hear the snapping of lizards through the wind.

“This way.” She said as Saint reached her side. He obliged as they neared the slight wall that led onto the mound.

She guided them around another monster kelp, still searching for salamanders. She could see the flashes of pink beneath the sea, wriggling out of their dens. But they were essentially there.

“Up there.” She said somewhat tersely. Saint grappled up with his tongue and clambered onto the mound as the Artificer climbed up it. He offered a hand, and she took it. She stood and turned to assess if anything was following.

A single salamander was treading water, glaring at her.

Why did she still hear snapping then? 

Shit.

She turned just in time for Saint to crest the slight hill of the island and yelp as an orange lizard nipped at him. She sprinted up to him, grabbed his arm and essentially tossed him down the hill. She struck a cut across the first of four orange reptiles and glanced behind.

Perhaps she’d been a bit overzealous. She ran down again and caught Saint’s hand or prevent him falling into the water. Two salamanders now, enclosing on the shore, waiting to see what unlucky fighter would fall into their jaws.

She pulled Saint up and turned, pointing her spear at the encircling pack of orange lizards. They were far closer than she’d expected. She stumbled back and grabbed Saint’s arm again to assure she didn’t push him off the wall.

She could try and launch both her and Saint over the pack, but that had several obvious ways of backfiring, and there could very well be more lizards on the other side. The water was an equally clear shitshow. She couldn’t fend off four lizards while cornered and trying to protect a certain fuzzy liability.

She got angry at herself for calling him that.

Whatever.

She placed her spear in her mouth and gnawed on it for a moment, pulling away to make a fuse as the lizards paused in confusion.

“Hold your breath.”

“What?!”

“Hold your breath. Get to shore.” She repeated. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Are you going to-?!” Saint exclaimed.

“Yes. When you hear me yell.” She muttered.

The lizards got closer, snarling and snapping. One had to find some bravery eventually.

The first moved to bite, the tendrils on it’s head emitting buzzes of sound and electronic waves.

She lunged forward with a shout and jabbed the explosive through the roof of its mouth, cracking its head armor at the top as it pierced. The fuse crackling in her ears, she turned on a heel and (as gently as she could) tackled Saint into the water.

Confusion enveloped her for just a moment, where she was just heat and cold and water and sparks and fur and seaweed and bubbles.

The muffled explosion of her spear snapped her awake as she felt Saint swim away. She forced her eye open as a weed wrapped tightly around her ankle.

She thrashed and clawed at the water as the kelp pulled her in, grabbing at the sand for a weapon. She found a shard of metal and pulled her foot close enough to cut the kelp off her, and kicked to the surface.

She gasped for air, howling wind and splashing water and snarls coming unmuffled. She thrashed to find Saint paddling fearfully for the shore, a salamander swimming quickly towards him.

She dove, surfaced and snapped her tail against the waves, launching through the air with the shard of metal still in her hand. She dive-bombed the salamander all the way to the ocean floor, stabbing and cutting mindlessly based only on where its vitals should be. She jabbed the blade as deep as she could, tore down the flesh until it ripped out the side, and kicked back to the surface.

Another gasp, panic filling her lungs along with cold air. Where was Saint?!

“Artifi-!” She heard a voice cry out before descending into bubbles.

She turned to the source and dove under again to launch. A painful crush slammed against her tail and made her shout, and breath in quite some water. She forced her lungs shut through gritted teeth and turned, jabbing mindlessly at the salamander gnawing on her tail until it let go. She shot to the surface, gasping and hacking up water as she tried to launch towards Saint.

She finally found a spark and fled through the air, her lungs burning from lack of air and inhaled water. She found the kelp dragging Saint slowly down, only slowed by his tongue stuck weakly to a piece of scrap. She slammed into the water and ignored her flickering vision, kicking to Saint and carving the living seaweed off his tail. She was certain she missed and cut him at some point, and tried to ignore how much that made her hate herself.

She was beginning to black out by the time she dragged them to the surface, hacking up water and gasping for oxygen. Saint grappled to the mound of scrap and pulled them to the slight wall, his arm wrapped around her as she choked. She could feel his fur brush her as he frantically looked around.

She found a bit of composure. Salamanders, kelp, orange lizards everywhere. Blood and scrap and dust and seaweed. And void almighty, that was a fucking vulture.

At least it was after a salamander. She shoved the shard somehow still in her hand in her mouth and gnawed on it, trying her best to avoid stabbing something important. It came out a jagged, crude bomb that was likely to fall apart in mere seconds. She tossed it weakly onto the shoreline where the orange lizards were snarling. A bang, several surprised growls and a few splashes of water.

Saint got the memo and started dragging them up and onto land. She vaguely knew a shelter was on this island, but she could also barely see from lack of air and exhaustion. Something brushed against her wounded tail, then wrapped around it.

“VOID BELOW!!” Saint’s voice cried out. She was now caught between Saint and a monster kelp. She weakly kicked and clawed at it, but with Saint’s arms around her midsection and still darkened vision, it was ineffectual. Was that a salamander?

Saint ripped her to one side just as she saw it’s jaws snap shut. Instead of her, the lizard bit onto excess kelp, and she was released. She was conscious enough to stumble/scramble up the hill with Saint’s help.

Land. Nothing but half-dead orange lizards and soaked firecrackers. They stumbled away from the brawl, hearing the jets of the vulture backfire and whirr along with the splashes of water and growls of lizards.

She was sort of awake by the time Saint found a nearby shelter. She crawled inside, stumbled into the wall and fell, coughing and hacking.

Saint knelt by her side and oversaw her with a pained expression. She coughed bit more till she could breathe, gasped for air a few times, and collapsed.

She didn’t remember losing consciousness, but she certainly wasn’t awake for a bit. Too exhausted, panicked, whatever else to do much of anything.

She felt a soft texture brush warmly against her back. Her eye flickered open.

“Arti?” Asked the Saint’s gentle voice.

She groaned and propped herself up for a moment. Then she gave up and rolled over. Her tail ached from the crushing bite, and she was covered in tiny scrapes stinging across her form.

“How do you feel?” He asked. His visage was still distorted from her bleary eyes, but comforting.

“… peachy.” She muttered indignantly. “Just- fuckin’ fantastic.”

He chuckled. “Naturally. I brought you some sustenance, that should help.”

She gave him a puzzled look and rubbed her eyes. She found a large orange blob in her peripheral vision.

“… Is that a fucking orange lizard?”

“I’d abate the first term, but yes, it is.” Saint answered, smiling playfully.

“… You dragged a whole orange lizard in here.” She repeated.

“Indeed, I did.” He affirmed.

“You could’ve been eaten by vultures.”

“I almost was.” He said. “Or, you could be severely weakened by exhaustion and lack of sustenance, and be unable to defend neither I nor yourself from other threats.”

She sighed. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Well, I did.” He said, smiling again.

She avoided his eyes and crawled over to the lizard’s body.

“Was it already dead?” She asked.

“Yes.” He confirmed. “Dropped food from a vulture, I believe.”

She nodded and bit into it. When had she last eaten? It’d probably been a bit. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.

She tore into the carcass with as much politeness as she could muster, trying to avoid coating the shelter in gore. It was delicious. By the time she was finished, it was essentially a pile of bones.

She wiped her mouth and looked up. Saint was sitting against the wall, legs folded inward, tail swept around him and hands suspended at his chest.

“… Saint?”

He turned slightly, then lowered his hands. “Yes?”

“… Whatcha’ doing?” She asked.

“Meditating.” He answered simply. “I figured it would be discomforting to have me simply sit silently during your meal, and I struggle falling asleep to noise.”

“Oh, uh- sorry…” She mumbled. She collected what remained of the lizard into the corner of the shelter. Saint had already shut the door to keep out the cold.

“Perfectly fine.” He assured her. “I wouldn’t drag you in a meal and expect you not to eat it.”

She glanced at the remains of said meal, then quietly sighed.

“… Thanks.” She mumbled. “… Thank you.” She repeated, more firmly.

“My pleasure.” He assured her.

“… Is your tail alright?” She asked.

“… Yes. Why?” He prompted.

“… I… cut you, during the- whole thing.” She said, gesturing vaguely outside. “While cutting off the monster kelp.”

“Oh, that. Yes.” He assured her. “The cut was rather minor; the bleeding had stopped by the time you fell asleep.”

“… Okay.” She mumbled. “… Sorry.”

“Again, it’s alright.” He assured her.

She went quiet, not really believing him. Not because she thought he was alright, she just felt… guilty.

“… Well, now that that’s done with.” He said, unfurling his tail and beginning to lay down. “Suppose now is when we go to sleep.” He laid down and stretched his arms, sighing as he relaxed.

The Artificer tentatively crawled a little closer, then stopped. She laid down and curled up, wishing she was brave enough to be closer to him. To ask to be closer. But Saint said his goodnights, and she said hers, and that was it.

Something snagged in her mind as she lay there thinking.

“… What does “meditating” mean?” She asked, sitting up slightly.

Saint’s eyelids twitched to show his vision opening. He sat up a bit as well.

“… Simply sitting.” He answered. “Letting your thoughts flow in silence, focusing not on your mind, but on being there in the moment. It is rather centering, I’d recommend it.”

She tilted her head. None of that really made sense to her.

“I could demonstrate, if you’d like.” He offered. “I think it could be a helpful process for you.”

She considered for a moment.

She shrugged slightly. “… Sure.”

Saint nodded. “Come here, please.” He requested, patting a spot next to him on the ground.

She tentatively crawled over and laid down by his side, resting her head on her tail.

“I more often than not sit up while practicing actively, but I use it in smaller pieces when falling asleep.” He explained. “So for now, it is likely best to stay as you are. Now, if you will close your eyes?”

She obliged, settling in slightly and waiting.

“Now try to focus on your breathing. On the floor beneath you, on your senses.” He said softly. “Your objective is to center your mind, be not in the future nor the past, only right here.”

“… So… stop thinking?” She asked, her eye opening slightly.

He chuckled a little. “Bluntly, yes.”

“… okay.”

She let the silence overtake her and went quiet.

She tried to focus on her breathing. In, out. In, out. In, out, in, out, in, out-

“Focusing on my breathing makes me breath weird.” She said quietly.

“… Breathe deeply. Intentionally.” He said. “In… and out.”

She amended her technique. In… and out… and in… and out.

She could feel cold metal against her rugged skin, hear the wind outside. Her breathing was ever-so slightly ragged, gruff, from all her years of shouting. All her…

No. Stop thinking.

Stop thinking.

Isn’t that impossible? Telling yourself to stop thinking is a thought. She was currently thinking.

“This isn’t working.” She muttered, opening her eye.

Saint opened his own vision just slightly.

“… If focusing on your breathing is too little, other senses may help.” He suggested. “The wind, the cold, though it’s often easier if you derive comfort from them.”

“… Yeah. Metal. Comforting.” She muttered, looking at the wall. “Not helping that I have sandpaper for skin.”

She saw Saint give a slightly pained expression in her peripheral. “… Sadly, that is a common problem.” He admitted. “… I understand if you’d like to leave this for another time.”

She sighed quietly and continued looking at the wall.

She knew of a certain thing she thought would help.

Saint’s fur was really soft. It’s texture always seemed to center her mind. She’d only recently noticed that she’d picked up a habit of rubbing her fingers together whenever she was stressed. And… it was difficult to admit that. And not let certain parts of herself call her weak, stupid, and dependent.

What would Saint say to a thought like that?

He’d tell her she was none of that. And a… million other things. And she wouldn’t believe most of them. She didn’t believe most of them. She was weak, she…

She sighed again.

God, it… it was so…

She was falling down a tunnel of emotion. She just wanted to be near him, to be close and safe. To stop all these thoughts, stop wanting to cry every time she mulled over her own mind. He was so close and so far.

Somewhere in her mind… a common thing occurred. Sadness became anguish. Became anger. Became…

Come on, dumbass, it isn’t that hard. Just ask.

Was that voice always there?

Rude, terse, chastising. But it… wanted what she wanted. Anger at herself turned to… something. Was it… discipline? Maybe.

It was almost encouraging. To hate herself a little less. When had that happened?

…

“… Saint?”

“Hm?”

“Do you… mind if… if I scoot a little closer?”

He paused, and it was agonizing. She hated it. But still, that new voice chimed in. Quietly, and it was difficult to believe it, but…

You don’t normally ask things like that. Give him a damn minute.

“… No, that’s quite alright.” He assured her.

She scooted a little closer, feeling like she was in an odd trance of productivity. She laid down by his side, close enough to properly feel his fur against her, but not his skin. She rested her head on her tail again and remembered that only just yesterday he’d healed the scar that once made that difficult.

She tried to mumbled a thanks, but it was essentially unintelligible. Acknowledging that closeness gave her comfort was still almost entirely foreign. And now that she had it, it was much harder to avoid acknowledging that.

She tried to shut out her mind.

She took a few deep breaths.

In… and out.

In… and out.

In… and out…

She faded out of her mind without really noticing.

Just her, and her breathing, and Saint.

Just her, and Saint.

Until something changed.

She opened her eye and looked over a little sleepily, feeling something on her arm.

Saint had leaned slightly over and against her, resting his head on her shoulder.

… did he think she was asleep? Saint would usually ask to do something like this. Had he himself fallen asleep and simply slumped over?

Regardless, there he was. Head rested against her shoulder, breathing steady, seeming… comfy.

The rest of his body slumped against her and slid down a bit, his legs stretching slightly out as he laid against her side.

…

This was nice. She liked this.

He found some comfort in her, or perhaps was simply comfortable around her. Enough to fall asleep on her shoulder.

That ache in her chest was there again, but it was… light. Enjoyable. Warm. Her face felt hot, but she didn’t mind. She tingled with a rush in her blood as her heart beat faster, feeling fluttery in her chest.

She settled in and closed her eye, and felt… content.

Just for a little bit.

She drifted asleep.

Chapter Text

Another cycle’s travel had passed uneventfully, if uneventfully meant somewhat stagnant. Shoreline was always caught in between complete stillness and utter chaos, and the thoughts and conflicts buzzing in the Artificer’s mind were unhelpful. But it was at least getting… a little easier. She was Saint’s friend. She did not mind being near him. She found his company enjoyable. Those were easier said than proved aloud, but nonetheless.

“I think there’s a way into the drains from around here.” The Artificer said as the two swam through the many pools of water in the caverns beneath the sea, once the facilities that kept Looks to the Moon alive. “We’re basically underneath the front of the wastes.”

“… Interesting.” Saint replied. The two climbed onto another patch of land, and he shook water from his fur. “Have you been here since the blizzard?”

“… No.” She admitted. “I went here a few times, back when… you know. I found a pearl for… Pebs to read, but that was the last time.”

“Hm.” He affirmed. “Do you think it would have changed any in the frost?”

“… I dunno.” She shrugged. “Maybe- frozen over?”

“Perhaps.” Saint said. “… If we’re lucky, we won’t have to deal with much underwater.”

The water level in the pools began to lower as they traversed the pipes. She noticed a slow change in temperature as they waded through the frigid waters and darkening to tunnels, the chill in the air seeming to change.

“You doing alright with the cold, Saint?” She asked, glancing behind her.

“…  Quite so.” He answered. “I believe it is getting warmer.”

She paused and stared at him for a moment. “… Warmer?”

“Yes.” He affirmed, chuckling slightly and walking up to her side. “I imagine your natural heat makes it hard to tell, and it is rather minor. But noticeable.”

“… Huh.”

Further down into the drains, moss creeping up the walls and steam occasionally spewing from broken piping. Each gust did seem somewhat warm. She wasn’t foreign to sources of heat in the cold, but she’d never really had a use for them, nor found them large enough to be comforting. But being so far underground, they were much more noticeable.

Their feet could touch the ground of the pools now, and a karma gate made itself known as they waded. The two pushed into the gate, hearing the water draining through the many grates around the mechanism.

The stood in water up to their waists as the gates clicked and holograms buzzed, the frigid liquid slowly draining as the steam vents pumped. They were here.

The two walked into a large tunnel with pipes running along the walls, decorated in faded graffiti of white, red and green. Moss and twigs crept out of rusted steel and made a blanket of plant life beneath their feet.

“Oh, drainage.” The Artificer murmured. “How I haven’t missed you.”

Saint chuckled. “I do love your optimism whenever we enter somewhere new.”

She snorted. “You’ll get it in this first room.”

They moved through a small array of hanging berries and into a tunnel, the Artificer crawling first through the moss.

“Alright. This is where the water starts.” She muttered back at him as the tunnel met a downward spot. “Hopefully it’s low…”

She crawled out of the pipe, let herself drop, and-

Shouted angrily as she fell face-first into dirt.

“… Everything alright down there?” Saint called from above.

“Oh, motherfucker!” She shouted. “What the- there’s no fucking water?!”

Saint slid after her and dropped by her side.

They were in an expansive tunnel of rust and debris, though it was trending more towards a thicket. The shaft stretched into darkness illuminated by impaled scavenger lanterns, too the point they couldn’t see the end. Moss and branches and roots of plants spanned across the gaps, covering the whole thing in green foliage. Pipes flowed almost seamlessly into lichen and twigs, leaves hung limp and berries seemed to be in all states of life and death all around.

“… There’s no… water.” The Artificer repeated, now on her feet again. “… Wow.”

“My…” Saint whispered in awe. “… It’s beautiful.”

“… Yeah.” The Artificer affirmed. “It’s… changed a lot.”

They moved through the thicket slowly and methodically, moving around bushels an twisting roots flowing through the tunnel. Vines draped over most of it, and it wasn’t long before it became difficult to pick out the rust from the dirt. The ground beneath their feet was noticeably softer, and it did seem to be getting warmer, if only slightly.

They moved into a more expansive room, a massive vertical shaft above them spanned by winding roots and strung up vines. The room itself still had some recognizable machinery, old poles stretching up, rusted hunks of metal in the corners.

“I… remember this room.” The Artificer stated, marveling at the undergrowth. “Used to be full of leeches. And… y’know. Water.”

Saint nodded and looked around. “… Quite the haven it’s become.”

“… Yeah.”

They headed into another tunnel of vines, flower buds and sprouts now seen along the walls, pollen dusting the air. More water flow could now be heard muffled through the walls, proving the drains were not yet barren. They hadn’t encountered any life yet.

The quiet was almost eerie. A place so crowded and full of thriving life, yet so empty of movement. With the scavenger lanterns that occasionally lit the path, she was surprised she hadn’t seen a single trace of them yet. No lizards. No kelp. Nothing.

They walked silently through the pipes for another while.

The Artificer brushed past a vine, then did a brief double-take. The texture was odd, but it seemed normal.

She hesitantly turned back to the path, Saint still behind her.

A blade jammed into her side and she snarled in pain, turning to see what had struck her. Another point stabbed into her side as she did so.

That had not been a vine. Something was pulling her up. Something with teeth.

She snarled and thrashed as the stowed predator lugged her upward, trying to bite and scratch, made difficult by the fact she was being held upside from her torso and probably bleeding by now.

“Arti!” She heard Saint cry out below her. Her thrashing increased twofold.

She wrestled one of the blades from her side and sunk her teeth into the tentacle-like thing holding it. She bit off the blade and heard a snarl from above, and was promptly splashed in a small amount of the thing’s saliva. She growled through gritted teeth and tossed the bladed tendril aside.

She swiped her spear at a third tendril as it tried to stick into her, feeling the last hook tugging painfully at her flesh. She was nearing the disgusting set of teeth now, she just needed to get the hook out. She didn’t have time.

She sliced across the mouth with her spear, and it briefly went limp, lowering her and tightening and making her grit her teeth in pain. She grabbed the last hook and finally wrenched it from her flesh with a sickening noise and fell, rolling to a stand and clutching her side.

“Arti!” Saint repeated worriedly, moving to her side as she pointed her spear at the mouth in the ceiling.

“I’m fine.” She muttered. “Stay back.”

Saint checked over her wounds as she brandished her spear. She bared her teeth as the stowaway maw snarled and spat, it’s tendrils writhing and dangling beneath it.

“What the fuck is that thing?” She spat.

“I don’t know…” Saint admitted fearfully. “Please take it easy, you are hurt...”

“I noticed.” She muttered through gritted teeth. “We’re going around it. Stay close.”

She assumed it was blind. Like most carnivorous plants. She brandished her spear, one hand pressed to the deeper wound in her side, Saint holding her arm as he followed her.

The tendrils writhed and swayed, searching for input. She pushed Saint aside to protect him from a swaying blade. Halfway around.

It found her spear. She let the plant(?) take it from her hand and leapt to clear it’s range.

The two watched as it dragged the rebar up and quite willingly chewed it into dust and swallowed it.

“… you alright?” The Artificer asked.

“… Yes.” Saint answered. “Are you?”

“… okay.”

She steadied and gently shook Saint off her arm, though the pain in her side seemed to grow as she did so. She huffed in annoyance and started on again.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Saint asked her again.

“… yeah.” She assured him. “Been through worse. Not really worth fussing over it.”

Saint didn’t seem convinced, but he allowed it nonetheless.

“… It’s occurred to me how perfect this area is for ambush predators.” He noted.

“Welcome to the club.” The Artificer replied sarcastically. “Keep an eye on the ceiling. Hopefully we don’t see any more of… whatever that thing was.”

They continued through the labyrinth in silence, rust becoming most becoming rust again as they traveled. The rooms slowly became more varied in size and shape as they made their way into the undergrowth proper. They found a few pools of running water filled by broken pipes, traversed past rhythmic bursts of steam. A few centipedes made themselves known here and there, but it was still mostly quiet. Somewhere in between calm and empty, eerie and relaxed.

Her wounds had stoped bleeding, but that didn’t mean they didn’t hurt. She winced every time she had to lay on her left side, where the hook had done the most damage. She hoped some sleep would be good enough to heal.

They crawled through another rusted pipe and into another tunnel, thick branches and roots making steps and walls.

“Fuckin’ hell.” The Artificer muttered, clawing past some of it. “Place just hates us, doesn’t it…”

“It does seem so.” Saint affirmed, pushing his way through along with her.

As if on cue, she found a sharp piece of rebar embedded into the tunnel in front of her, sticking out like she was meant to see it.

“… It seems fate heard us.” Saint noted.

“… If by fate you mean the dropwig on the ceiling, then yeah.”

Saint looked up, then made a noise of discomfort. A large bug-like creature hung from above the spear, condensed and invisble in the foliage and moss, large mandibles audibly swaying.

“That… does make more sense.” He admitted.

The Artificer signed. “… I’ll just grab the spear and let it impale itself. Gimme a sec.”

She dropped to all fours and began creeping towards the rebar, eyes flickering between her destination and the ceiling. The mandibles didn’t seem to move as she crawled closer, almost identical to the branches surrounding them.

Ever closer. No movement.

Almost there…

She leapt for the spear, rolled and braced her back against the ground, waiting for the insect’s inevitable screech and for it’s weight to hit her.

Nothing came.

The dropwig was still as stone.

She rolled to her feet and out from underneath it, brandishing her newly acquired weapon. Nothing.

She hesitated a moment, then stepped forward. She waved her spear beneath it a few times, then fully stepped under it, only slightly tensed. No response.

She double-checked the ceiling. Was it… actually a dropwig?

She couldn’t tell. But nothing among the moss and rust moved. As far as she could tell, it was blind, or it wasn’t a dropwig.

“… I… guess it’s safe.” She said tentatively. “… C’mere.”

Saint walked hesitantly towards her. She kept her eye on the theoretical predator.

Saint reached her side. She might’ve seen the slightest rustle, but it didn’t drop.

She looked tentatively away for just a moment.

A hiss, a cry, and she knew it had tricked her.

Saint cried out in pain as a set of mandibles dug into his sides, and a smaller set clamped around his middle. He heard Artificer shout a curse, and then lost all sense of direction as the dropwig dragged him away.

Evidently, this predator was smarter than either of them had expected, as it had waited for a proper time to strike on him, the weaker of the pair. Most dropwigs exhibited at least a little skill in timing their ambushes, but few were that cunning. The new environments must’ve honed it’s skills.

Moss and dirt rushed past him as the arthropod dragged him away. He heard the Artificer angrily shout his name, then heard her spear slam into the metal near him. She snarled and gave chase as the dropwig turned a corner.

Saint cried out again as the dropwig slammed him against a wall, then pushed itself through a tunnel. He heard a bang as the Artificer launched after it. He was going up now, and he became rather glad he hadn’t eaten any today, otherwise he’d definitely have lost some of it by now.

“GET BACK HERE YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!” The Artificer screamed. “DON’T TOUCH HIM!!”

The dropwig screeched as she launched after it, evidently close enough to partially body-slam it and knock it from the wall. Saint hit the ground and tumbled for a moment, his head spinning, before the jaws clamped around him again.

More running, scampering and scuttling. He could hear the Artificer snarling in rage behind him during the chase. Further through the dirt, past flowing water.

The bug seemed to still after entering a final pipe. He tried to find his bearings for a moment.

The Artificer roared as she tackled the dropwig, and Saint tumbled out of it’s grasp into a wall.

They were in a small room, no, a shelter, but far more expansive than most. Branches had bored through the rusted walls and expanded the space, leaving crumbling walls of rock and a more open space in the back. The space led down a short drop into a small pool, filled by a waterfall running down from a broken pipe above, and constantly draining from the bottom.

The Artificer was now wrestling the dropwig around the large shelter, tossing it against walls as it’s many claws and mandibles bit and scratched at her. Saint stumbled away, still dazed, and used his tongue to put the small gap between him and the fight.

The Artificer slammed the dropwig against a wall and attempted to sink her fangs into it’s throat. It met her with it’s mandibles, but that only resulted in her biting off one of said appendages. She tossed it across the room and leapt with a snarl, biting deep into it’s torso. Then she raised her claws and struck a fatal blow across it’s head.

She stood above it, breathing heavily, for a moment. Saint could see rage in her eyes, see her claws tensing at her side.

She looked up, then to Saint. And her anger disappeared.

“Saint!” She cried out, sprinting to the edge of the gap.

“I’m okay.” He said gently, extending a hand for her to stop. He hopped over the gap and stood in front of her. “I’m okay.”

She drew breath, then stopped.

She stepped back with a sigh.

“… Fuckin’ hell.” She muttered, glancing back at the dropwig corpse. “Bastard.”

Saint grimaced as he walked to the entrance of the room. After a brief check, he deemed the dropwig had brought them to a makeshift shelter, as the entrance was mostly hidden by moss and foliage. The cold wasn’t nearly as much of a problem so far down in the undergrowth.

“At least they found us a place to stay.” Saint sighed. “The entrance is hidden, so we should likely be fine.”

“… Is it closed off?” The Artificer asked.

“… No.” Saint admitted.

“… Okay.” She murmured. “Be right back.”

She left the shelter for a moment. He heard some snapping of branches and clawing of wood, and then she slid back into the shelter, blocking it off with her collection of bark and foliage.

Saint made himself comfortable in the shelter as the Artificer made a meal of the dropwig, watching the water fall into the pool at the back of the shelter. When she was done she walked over and stared at him for a moment.

“… You, uh… sleeping there?” She asked.

“… Probably.” He answered, looking back at her. “I find the water’s sound comforting.”

“… Okay.” She mumbled. She paused a moment, then walked over to the right wall of the shelter, a few feet away from him.

He paused for a moment, watching her curl up silently against the wall. She seemed uncomfortable. He could sense something like… loneliness in her posture.

She’d been oscillating between sleeping near and far from him for a while, but now that she’d seemingly reconciled with enjoying his presence, he figured it might be good to help her let down some walls. It was likely she wanted to ask if he was alright with it, but was too nervous too, if her past behavior was to be believed.

“… Arti?” He asked, turning over to her and tilting his head. “… Is there something you’d like to ask me?”

She glanced over at him, seeming puzzled. “… What?”

He adjusted to face her and tilted his head. “Perhaps something associated with boundaries on our sleeping positions?”

She stayed puzzled for a moment, then seemed to realize. She gave him a slightly annoyed look.

“… No.” She said quietly, turning away. “I don’t.”

Saint gave a slight sigh. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to insult you.” He said softly. “But it would be good for you to say something of the like aloud. It will help you let down your walls.”

She was silent for a moment, resting her head on her arms. Her expression very slowly softened.

“… Can I… lay next to you?” She asked quietly. 

He smiled happily, feeling a rush of lightness and joy flow through him like a shiver and force giddiness into his expression.

“Yes.” He said softly. “Of course. And for convenience, you can do so anytime from now on. All you must do is find the will too.”

She got up and walked over to him with a slight sigh, but he could see the slightest smile in her face. She flopped down by his side at the slight ledge with a huff.

“… thanks.” She mumbled. “For… forcing me to talk, I guess…”

He chuckled slightly. “The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”

She smiled just a bit and went quiet.

“Goodnight, Arti.” Saint said quietly. “I hope you sleep well.”

“… Thanks, fuzzy.” She said, audibly smiling now. “… You too.”

Saint closed his vision, and she did the same. He listened to her gentle breathing along with the trickling water, feeling the soft moss beneath him and the warm air cloaking his form, and just felt so… comfortable. His heart fluttering in his chest, his mind thinking only of her.

He only wished that he could be just a little bit closer.

He hoped that she might feel something similar.

…

He gave the slightest of contented sighs.

One day, he might be able to indulge himself.

For now… he could settle with just being near.

The Artificer’s steady, just slightly ragged breathing lulled him to sleep.

Chapter Text

Saint awoke the next morning, his vision flitting open and ears taking in the running water. He glanced to his side to see his companion still there, watching the waterfall.

“… Good morning, Artificer.” He said softly, stretching his arms. “How did you sleep?”

“… eh.” She answered. “Almost… fell into the fuckin’ pool, but, y’know.”

He gave her a surprised look. “… Are you alright?”

She snickered. “Nope. Absolutely traumatized.” She said dully, stretching as she got up. “I’ve been through worse. Ready to go?”

“I suppose I am.” Saint said, standing up with her.

The Artificer made sure to grab a spear early on as they traversed the overgrown pipes. Now that they were in the labyrinth proper, thanks the the dropwig-shaped pile of bones in their shelter, tunnels became expansive rooms and pools of water. Broken pipes flowed water that drained just as quickly, centipedes skittered and lizard tracks dotted the mud-covered metal. Green leeches swam among aquatic flowers and budding foliage, arrayed by more various and exotic plant life seen anywhere else in the area.

They moved to a massive, long room, filled with centipedes and flowing water. The Artificer gave the room a once over, then groaned.

“Think this is the way through…” She muttered. “Good ol’ centipede hell. Guess some things don’t change.”

Saint chuckled and followed her lead when she crouched low. They two started across the room slowly, avoiding the water and small bugs skittering and flapping about.

“Feels too easy.” The Artificer mumbled when they were about halfway across.

“Tempting fate there.” Saint replied quietly.

A red centipede flowed out of a tunnel and paused among it’s brethren.

…

Saint began to walk backward. The Artificer did the same.

They could see, but poorly. If they moved slowly, it might not notice them.

The scarlet death’s antennae twitched around for a moment. It crawled down from the ceiling it had emerged from and stilled again. Saint imagined the Artificer would be swearing furiously if silence wasn’t vital at the moment.

Time seemed to slow.

It charged forward.

“FUCK!”

Both slugcats turned on a heel and darted in the opposite direction, the horrible rapid tapping of several dozen legs cutting through the sound of running water. They scrambled back into the tunnel. Then the Artificer took the lead as the mass of red scales followed them through the tunnel.

They raced through the moss and thickets, Artificer launching whenever she could and Saint making use of his tongue as best he could. Into another tunnel as the flowing beast still scuttled behind them. They found a room with a ledge leading into a pool of water, and dove.

Saint surfaced, feeling seaweed and odd plant life whisper around his legs as he turned. The centipede writhed through the tunnel they’d taken, started down the ledge the water’s surface, and stilled.

“Yeah, fucker!” The Artificer yelled behind him. “Centipedes hate water! We’ll stay here as long as we gotta!”

Saint chuckled a little at her goading. The shore of the pool was just behind them, but the centipede likely couldn’t tell. And the sound of running water, coming from a broken pipe in the ceiling, dissuaded it further. They stayed in the water just to be safe.

Eventually, the scarlet insect skittered away and out of view. The two could breath easy as they paddled to the shore of the pond.

Saint’s legs felt a bit heavy, likely from treading water, but he paid no attention to it. He shook water from his fur, pleased with the relatively warm water compared to the rest of the region.

“Hell.” The Artificer cursed, brushing waterlogged leaves and plant stems off her legs. “Guess we’re going a different way.”

She glanced up at him, then did a double take.

“… Is something wrong?” Saint asked her.

“… Maybe?” She answered. “Something’s weird about your fur.”

He looked down at himself. He did seem to have some weeds strewn amongst it. He brushed at one, but it seemed stuck tight. He gave a proper tug, and realized it was something else.

“Oh, goddammit…” The Artificer groaned.

Four thick, green leeches were stuck to his fur, biting into his flesh and limply tugging at his skin. He grimaced and made a noise of discomfort.

“Fuckers. Lemme see.” The Artificer offered. She went around him, tugging firmly at the parasites to see if any gave. She was able to detach (and promptly angrily throw back into the pool) one, but the rest were latched firm.

“Damn.” She muttered. “… Well. Probably be easier to just let em’ dry out.”

Saint sighed. “Regretfully, you’re probably right.” He admitted reluctantly.

The two decided to simply keep going through the labyrinth of plant life rather than wait. Better to be on the move and ready for attack. So they walked and waited, Saint idly tugging at the parasitic worms biting into him.

And they slowly drained of color, but they… weren’t letting go.

They walked further. The Artificer picked up another spear and occasionally glanced back at him, but nothing more.

Saint idly thought as he usually did, though by now he wasn’t required to spend all his time going over the Artificer in his head to understand her. He kept his ears perked for other threats, but they felt ineffectual. Perhaps all the moss had softened the sound. 

He was beginning to feel… a bit foggy, like a cloud was forming over his mind. It seemed oddly difficult to keep his eyes forward, and he could feel a strange… pulsing sensation in his sides.

He glanced at Artificer, and was struck with how pretty she was. He stared for a moment, vaguely wondering why his thoughts seemed so surface-level. It became a bit difficult to keep his head raised as it was.

“Arti…?” He asked.

She glanced back at him. “Hm?”

“I’m feeling a… a bit faint…”

Saint stumbled forward and began to fall.

“Woah!” The Artificer yelled, running forward and catching him. “What- the leeches are still on you?!”

Saint murmured hazily and shifted in her arms. His heart was racing, but he felt exceptionally weak. He felt her tug a few times at the leeches in his side, to little avail.

“What the fuck are these things?!” She said angrily. He felt her trying to cut the parasites off, but like most leeches, their skin was like that of rubber.

“Shit… I’m really sorry about this…” She said preemptively.

Saint gave a small exclamation of pain as she tore the first leech off of him, revealing a bloodied circular mark where it’s teeth had dug in. He whimpered as she removed the other two.

“Fuck, they’ve been… drinking your blood…” The Artificer muttered.

That made sense. Weak, hazy, racing heart, those were all symptoms of anemia. He might’ve realized that earlier had he not been suffering from, well, anemia. He could feel his sides pulsing as his body tried to fill in the gaps in its blood flow, like snakes worming through his veins. He would’ve wondered why this breed of leech specifically could drain blood, if he could assemble a proper thought.

The Artificer cursed again. “Y-you’ll be okay, we just have to wait a bit. Stay with me.” She said softly. She pulled him to a soft patch of moss in the corner of the room, sat down and held him close, scanning over his shoulder for threats. She placed him in the crook of her neck and for just a moment, gently scratched his ear with her claw. She stopped rather abruptly, as if trying to mask the action, but he didn’t notice.

Saint collected himself into a ball in her lap and weakly put his arms around her as well, mumbling his discomforts halfheartedly.

“You’re… alright.” She murmured. “It’ll pass…”

He gently nuzzled into her shoulder, his heart beating for a different reason. He felt weak, but safe. Warm. It was a feeling he hadn’t had in quite a while, a feeling that he was somewhere where nobody would judge him. He was not a deity, not an anomaly, not a saint nor a sinner, just him.

Just hers.

He wished very dearly he might give her that feeling. Of comfort in his arms, of a vulnerability that leaves what’s been behind. Cleansing freedom in closeness. 

He could think properly again, and the painful pulse in his sides was mostly gone. Sadly, he would have to leave this small piece of freedom. 

“… I think I am… alright.” He said quietly. “As well as I can be without more rest…”

The Artificer gave a slight huff. “… Okay. Just… take it easy.”

She gently let him crawl off her lap and stood up. Saint stumbled a bit as he stood, but was able to hold his ground despite weak legs.

“… Good?” The Artificer asked.

“… Yes.” He said with as much certainty as truth would allow. “… As long as I don’t overexert, all should be fine.”

She gave a somewhat reluctant sigh of acceptance and turned. The slugcats started on again.

Saint’s legs were still weak, and his sides tingled as he walked. But the anemia was fading. Now he’d just have to deal with the aftershocks.

Artificer walked a little closer to him now, occasionally glancing back to assure her was still on his feet. She managed to fend off an approaching salamander with nothing but threats, but it was unclear if they were actually making progress in the thicket.

They found another large room with a shallow pool, about knee-high, surmounted by pillars of rust jutting out from the water and pipes lining the walls. Vines hung from a high ceiling in a variety of conditions and shapes, and oddly-colored rocks dotted the pool’s floor.

“Hooray for snails.” The Artificer muttered offhandedly.

… Oh.

Those were not rocks.

Saint glanced around. He doubted anything above was stable enough to swing on without falling.

“… Um, Arti?”

“Hm?” She prompted.

“I don’t… do well with snails.” He said tentatively.

“… Yeah. Who does?”

“Well, I do… worse than most.” He said. “Their bursts cause… convulsions, in a sense. Seizures. And I am… a bit afraid, if I’m being honest.”

“… oh. Okay…” The Artificer murmured. “… just- follow me.”

Saint swallowed his discomfort and obliged, wading in after her. The reminder of his remaining anemia was not appreciated as he sluggishly trudged through the pool, meandering around the small amphibians.

The Artificer held her spear by her side, slightly extended, seemingly unsure if she should try to push some of the creatures out of the way. Saint was having difficulty keeping pace with her. He nearly lost his balance and fell, causing her to look back.

“… good?” She asked.

“… mostly.” He answered. “Can you slow down a bit?”

She gave a nervous glance to the area around, and the small minefield at her feet. Openings, pipes, hidden dens and hiding spots.

“… Here.” She said, offering a hand to him. “Just- hold on. I wanna get out of here quickly.”

He hesitated a moment, then took her hand. She held it as they waded, keeping him just behind her. His heart was beating more frantically than the snails would warrant.

The Artificer clearly heard something, as her ears twitched and she perked up. Saint gripped her hand and nervously waded to her side.

This time, Saint’s ears caught it. A voice.

The Artificer tensed and lowered her stance, brandishing her spear at an above ledge among the pillars and blocks of metal. On that ledge were four scavengers, the lead brandishing a spear as well.

Stillness.

“… Look.” The Artificer said, her voice echoing through the wide room. “… I don’t want to fight. I’ll just…” She hesitated, then lowered her spear and gently placed it in the water. “… do that. And we’ll move on.”

“… Who’s he?” The scavenger prompted, gesturing at Saint. His fur was a dull shade of orange.

She glanced at his and her still-clasped hands, then gave an annoyed sigh, muttering something unintelligible.

“… Saint.” She said with some difficulty. “He’s my friend. And couldn’t throw a spear if he wanted to.”

The scavenger’s eyes narrowed, and she received looks of confusion from the other three.

Then, the orange scavenger smiled.

Then began to laugh.

“… Oh, this is rich.” He cackled. “Look here, boys! She’s got another mate!”

The Artificer tensed and sharply inhaled, then paused. She glanced at Saint, and he gave her a gentle nod.

“Oh, that’s fuckin’ hilarious. You kidnap him out of one of the pipes?” The scavenger mocked.

“I am with her of my own volition.” Saint said firmly.

“And you didn’t even have to rip out his tongue!” The scavenger goaded. “You crack me up, fucker.”

He snickered for another moment, then settled into a smug grin.

“So, tell me. What happens if I…” He retrieved a grenade from his tools. “You know. Do this?”

He tossed the grenade.

“NO!!!”

Through some combination of miracle work and inhuman skill, the Artificer retrieved her spear from the water and launched it straight through the bomb mid-air.

That wasn’t good enough for the snails.

Saint could hear the scavenger laughing as his every sense shattered.

The Artificer fell into the water as every snail burst at once, her back scraping against the ground as her world became nothing but bubbles, water, and pure fury. She slammed herself up and out of the water with a scream of anguished rage.

She saw Saint.

And her anger dissolved.

“Saint!” She cried out, rushing to his side through as snails popping tried to knock her over again. He convulsed and seized in the water, thrashing and shaking as his body tried to breath, still, and move at once. She grabbed him as gently as she could and pulled him out of the water. He hacked up water and writhed in her arms as she desperately searched for land.

She could hear the scavenger cackling.

“I don’t believe it!” He shouted. “She might actually give a shit about him!”

She growled in fury as she rushed through the pool, towards somewhere he could be safe. A spear lodged itself in a snail beside her and another pop sent her tumbling and Saint seizing.

“No!” She cried. She thrashed her way up, soaked and winded, searching for him. She snatched him up and held his limp, convulsing form close, his chin on her shoulder so he could expel some of the water. A scorning fury built in her chest and throat as she heard the scavengers laugh, embarrassment wracking her as she exhibited the exact opposite of what she was to the scavs.

She dodged another snail pop brought on by a thrown rock and reached the side of one of the pillars. She launched her way up to one of the lower ledges and prepared to go higher before something stopped her.

“God, it’s like she’s got another kid!”

She turned with nothing but madness in her eye to the scavengers, gritted her teeth and screamed. She rolled Saint out of her arms and bounded towards the ledge like a rabid animal and launched herself up to the scavengers perch.

It was seconds before she dove onto one of the scavengers, spun and tossed them into another like a random rock. She redirected a spear thrust, threw the offender over her shoulder and pulled the rebar from their grip. She was about to pierce their skull when-

“HEY SPARKY!”

She turned with fury and stared at the voice. The only scavenger she hadn’t attacked yet, fur a crimson red like her own skin.

They held a grenade like they were tantalizing a pet lizard with food, and gestured at Saint’s unconscious form, an evil grin in their eyes.

“NO!” She shouted. She dove in front of the projectile as they tossed it and curled around it as she hit the ground. She was blown from the platform and slammed into a wall of steel, then dropping with a splash back into the pool below. She thrashed to the surface and gasped for air, hearing further laughter from the scavengers.

Her eyes found Saint, and he was brought back to the front of her mind. The scavenger she’d nearly given a new brain stem to held a grenade out for her to see, Saint still in their view.

She dashed across the pool, stumbling through the snails and barely caught the grenade, tossing it away. She raced to Saint’s side and scooped him up again, launching up the pillars as she held him like a child.

She reached a larger spot of ground at the top of the pillar and set him down, turning and placing herself between him and the scavengers she was now eye-level with. Each held spears or explosives readied, their expressions in between smug cruelty and tension.

One tossed yet another explosive, and she caught it and tossed it into a far wall. Another thrown, she dove for it. The blast knocked her off the platform before she could do any more.

She heard another splash as she resurfaced. She turned to see Saint weakly surface and gasp for air, the fall having shaken him awake.

She called out his name and launched to his side as he fell again. She grabbed him and launched out of the water again, to another metal outcropping.

She muttered curses under her breath as he hacked and coughed. She set him down and recoiled, unsure what to do as he rolled over and choked out more water. 

“Arti, wh-!” He coughed. “What-?!” 

“It’s complicated!” She yelled. “We need to-!”

She shouted as a sharp pain jammed into her back and knocked her over. A scavenger had thrown a spear straight into her lower shoulder. She turned and stared at the group with pure malice, still perched on their platform.

She broke the length of the spear from her back, leaving a shard to keep her from losing blood. She briefly considered what to do with Saint through her rage before an idea struck her.

She scooped him up with one arm, bounded to the shore and launched up again. Within seconds she’d reached the top of a pillar and launched onto the scavenger's platform, Saint still in her grasp. She dropped him, stood over his thoroughly confused form and roared in fury.

“NOW WHAT?!” She screamed at the scavengers. They were now surrounding her. “WHAT DO YOU HAVE WHEN HE’S RIGHT HERE?! COME ON, FUCKERS, TRY IT!”

One scavenger took the opportunity, as she heard footsteps behind her. She turned, stepped over Saint and swiveled around a thrust. She grabbed the spear, pulled them forward and swept their leg with her foot. She then leaned down, grabbed their head and bashed them face-first into the metal floor. Dead, unconscious, she didn’t care.

She leapt on one of the others and wrestled for their spear for a moment. By the time she’d taken it, another was rushing for Saint. She spun and tossed the spear into the scavenger’s side before they reached the green slugcat and rolled back to Saint, pulling the spear from her target and kicking them away.

The orange scavenger moved to strike, she parried. The other did the same. Saint was smart enough to crawl away now that she’d distracted them all. Her dismantling of the scavengers was by no means easy, but it was clear they were not going to win. Even as the third one joined, she was holding her ground.

She deflected another strike and cut across one scavenger’s skull, and they fell back and off their feet. She ducked a thrust, stepped around a cut and impaled another through the chest. She tossed them aside to deflect a strike, grabbed the last scavenger’s spear as they were thrown off balance and knocked them to the ground with a cut and a bash.

It was the orange scavenger, the leader. Now with her spear braced on their throat.

She pulled the remains of the spear from her shoulder and stared with dead-eyed malice for a moment at the scavenger, his smugness gone in an instant. 

“… Any regrets?” The Artificer asked. They could not find the voice to reply.

“None at all?” She asked, placing her spear point in the ground beside their head and leaning down. “Nothing you have to say?”

“Maybe you’ve considered you should THINK before you open your FUCKING MOUTH!!!”

The scavenger whimpered in terror and tried to crawl away. She grabbed him by the throat, threw him over her shoulder and tossed him like a rag doll. She was already looming over him again by the time he found his bearings, a spear braced at their neck once again.

“I am going to rip out your tongue and stitch it back into your mouth.” She growled, leaning down again with maddened rage in her eye. “Then, I am going to break your legs and throw you in the snail pool. And maybe, just maybe, if I’m feeling generous, I’ll kill you before I rip out your fucking eyes.”

The scavenger was physically trembling. She could hear the wounded one trying to get to their feet, terrified. The other two were not her problem.

She raised her claws to make good on her threats.

“Artificer!”

She turned at the sound of his voice.

“Please.” Saint pleaded. He was propping himself up on shaky arms, lying in between the wounded and the dead scavenger.

“This isn’t who you want to be.”

She stared at him for a moment.

He was cast in light from the ceiling, some bioluminescent plant or scavenger lantern mimicking sunlight. His fur was soaked and matted. She could feel blood running down her back from her wound.

“Please…” He repeated.

…

She stood up straight, her spear numbly pointed at the scavenger’s throat in a loose grip.

She closed her eye, and took a deep breath.

She lowered her spear.

And stood still as stone for a moment.

With a snarled shout of fury she turned and rent across the scavenger’s abdomen with the blade of her spear, splattering blood across the moss. She slammed her spear into the metal beside her and stilled as they cried out and clutched their wound.

”You’re lucky I didn’t take your hands.” She spat, looming over them as they whimpered in pain. “Tell your friends I decided to be nice. Oh, and by the way.” 

She leaned in close.

“If you ever, ever touch him. I’ll put your own spine through your throat.” 

She stood up again. 

“Fuck off.” 

A hand pressed to the gash in their side, they stumbled to their feet, ran for the wall and disappeared inside the tunnels. Seemingly the other scavenger had already done the same. 

She stood still for a moment, staring at the metal where they’d been.

Fire on her skin and disappointment in her heart, she walked over to Saint. She offered him a hand, avoiding his eyes. 

He took it and stood with some difficulty, weak from the snails and leeches.

He stared silently for a moment, his gaze burning into her side like a knife. 

“… I’m sorry.” She said quietly. 

Saint paused, then sighed. 

“… That is the first step.” He said softly. 

He looked around, finding only blood and metal amongst the moss. 

“… Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

The pair walked in silence for a while. The Artificer could feel blood dripping down her back from the stabbing pain in her shoulder. Saint said that he would hurry as much as his frail state allowed to find something to wrap her wound, she mumbled an assurance that she was probably fine. He did not reply.

So she was left with nothing but their footsteps in the moss, and pain.

…

“… How do you feel?” Saint asked softly, looking ahead as they walked side by side. “.. In terms of the wound.”

“… Fine.” She muttered. “Wasn’t deep. Whoever tossed it had a shit throwing arm.”

Saint nodded and again was silent.

Moss, footsteps, blood. For about half a minute.

“… Do you think… that to maim is to give mercy?”

Saint looked her in the eye for the first time since the fight as he asked the question.

“… I… I don’t… what do you mean?” She asked.

He looked ahead again.

“… Do you think it is better to cause harm, potentially fatal harm, than to simply kill?” He questioned thoughtfully. “Was it more merciful to slash his side than to pierce his heart?”

She mulled over it for a moment, her gaze falling to the moss beneath her feet.

“… yeah.” She murmured. “Because he… gets a chance to live.”

“Or perhaps you just wished to cause him pain.”

His words stung like a knife, and she knew they were true.

“You threatened to cut off his hands.” Saint noted.

“… He deserved it.” She muttered.

“That is irrelevant.” Saint said plainly.

“Bullshit!” She spat, finally rising to meet his gaze. “You weren’t awake for the shit he said to me, the shit he did to you! I should’ve-!”

“Then what do you deserve?”

Saint had turned to meet her and stopped walking. She stood still for a moment.

She averted her eyes, scraping her palms with her claws as she clenched her hands.

“… To die.” She muttered.

“No.” Saint denied matter-of-factly. “Because your logic is flawed. You do not deserve to die, and he did not deserve the wound.”

She glared at the floor for a moment.

“… didn’t you say that… that redemption isn’t absolution, or whatever the fuck?” She asked, looking up. “You’re kidding yourself, Saint. I-”

“This matter is more complicated than that, Artificer.” He interjected. “Nothing is that black and white, and even if it was, the matter of deserving death is irrelevant when death and sleep are one in the same.”

She scowled at him for another moment before her thoughts assembled into guilt.

At her anger and frustration, at her rude and callous tones. She avoided his gaze and stared at the ground once again, and sighed.

“… I’m sorry.” She muttered indignantly.

“I know.” Saint said softly, walking closer to her. “I am trying help you sort yourself out. Unfortunately, you did wrong, and you can't afford to pretend it was just.”

He leaned down slightly to enter her peripherals. “… I’m not angry at you. Nor am I disappointed. Not anymore.”

The words made her heart flutter, a sensation she tried to ignore.

“You’ve progressed.” He continued softly. “… Let’s keep moving, alright?”

She sighed quietly.

“… okay.”

The two found a shelter soon after amongst vine and branch. Saint’s weakness and exhaustion still seemed somewhat present as they crawled in to rest, and it made the Artificer’s chest hurt. But she couldn’t summon the words to ask. And, after all… nothing she could do would help him feel better.

…

Nothing she would do would help.

Saint gave a tired sigh as he sat down, his ears drooping a bit as he leaned against the wall. The Artificer briefly hesitated, then took a seat beside him.

“… I’d like to discuss a bit more, if you don’t mind.” Saint said gently, turning to look at her through his closed eyes.

“… on what?” She asked.

“Your… anger.” He answered. “If you define the concept and its consequences, it may help you better manage it.”

She stared at him for a moment.

“… So, uh… what do I do?”

He thought for a moment. “… Can you describe how anger feels to you?”

She leaned her head against the metal wall and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

“… I dunno. It’s like this… fire, in my muscles.” She explained. “Makes me want to grit my teeth, scream… and other stuff. And I just get this urge to… to…”

She sighed.

“… to hurt things.”

Saint nodded solemnly. “… Alive or not?”

She tried to lie and say it was the latter.

“… alive.” She mumbled. “Sometimes just… anything works. But if something makes me angry, I just… want to hurt it. Like that scavenger, I just… I feel like he should pay for the shit he said to me.”

The words tasted bitter in her mouth, but it was an odd form of catharsis to say it aloud.

“… And what do you do to resist that urge?” Saint prompted.

“… Nothing.” She muttered.

“That’s not true.”

She gave the floor an annoyed look.

“I… I don’t know.” She admitted. “Just… sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t… act on it, but sometimes I don’t really care what I should or shouldn’t do.”

Saint nodded and went quiet. She glanced at his closed eyes as he pondered, wondering where his gaze laid.

“… I don’t think the anger you feel is abnormal.” He eventually said. “You are simply in a position where it’s easy to act on. And where anger is common.”

“… because of the scavs?” She asked.

“… Because of your children.”

She dug her claws into the metal floor a bit at the word.

“… That’s a difficulty that will take time to resolve.” He said softly, his voice like a gentle song. “For now, you can place that on a mental shelf.”

“… What are you thinking about in a scenario like today’s?” He asked after another pause. “When someone who’s angered you is at your mercy, what is in your head?”

“… not much.” She murmured.

“… Perhaps the things that will happen when you hurt them?” He offered. “What feelings those things will cause?”

She thought for a moment.

It felt like spitting acid, but she tried to speak.

“… They’ll… scream, and I’ll… feel better.” She managed to mutter, barely keeping in a self-deprecating remark inside. “… They’ll pay for what they did. They made me feel like shit, and I get to make them feel worse.”

“… What about what will happen if you do not harm them?” Saint prompted her.

The question gave her some pause.

“Just whatever comes to mind.” He added. “Regardless of all else.”

“… I’ll look weak.” She murmured. “I’ll be weak. Cowardly.”

“… I assume you know that is untruthful.” Saint said softly. “And their perception of you is irrelevant.”

“So… what else?” He asked.

She mulled it over for a moment.

“… I… I don’t know.” She admitted.

“… Perhaps they will be grateful.” He offered. “You will be free of guilt. In the eyes of the strong, the weakness is within insecurity.”

“… Hold your guilt close, if nothing else.” He said softly. “Remember why you stopped, and why you try.”

“That is all I ask.”

She waited a second, then gave a sigh.

“… That is all.” Saint said, sitting up a bit. “… Let us rest.”

“… Alright.” Artificer replied, laying down with a shrug. “… Sounds good.”

“… Hey.” Saint said, causing her to glance over to him.

“I’m proud of you.” He said, smiling gently. “You did well.”

She was puzzled a moment, then smiled slightly as well.

“… Thanks, Saint.” She replied quietly. “… G’night.”

“Goodnight.”

The Artificer settled in and closed her eye.

She drifted into and through sleep, her unconscious mind resting in the talks of the night. Of anger and guilt. Of… words that tasted wrong in her mouth. Of painful realizations.

She… knew that feeling.

From somewhere important.

Where? When, more accurately?

When…

The Artificer numbly chewed on what once was the throat of the scavenger king, dried blood coating from her fingers to her elbows and cuts and bruises stinging across her rough skin. She stared at the monarch’s corpse, and let the blood and gore fall from her mouth.

She stepped back, her breathing heavy. The floor of scrap was coated in blast marks, broken spears, shards of the red centipede scales he once called armor strewn about at random.

…

A cruel, sadistic grin sprawled across her face like cracks in rock.

She’d won.

Vengeance.

She could feel the spectators horrified gazes, of elites and innocents, whispering around her. She’d taken her pound of flesh. They would know her pain. She stared in victory, grinning smugly at the corpse.

She closed her eye and took a deep breath, preparing for the release she’d craved for hundreds of cycles.

She breathed out…

And it did not come.

Her chest remained tight. Her heart still ached. Her scars still hurt and the back of her eyes still burned with an aching desire for… something. 

Her grin faded slightly.

She took a few more breaths, her eye now open. She became acutely aware of her left eye, cauterized shut, feeling like a parasite on her face. She was still so angry. So hurt. Why did it hurt?

She wasn’t smiling anymore.

No. This wasn’t right.

She stepped forward, ripped the scavenger’s mask off and sunk her teeth into his face. She pulled with a screech of rage and tore their left eye from its socket in poetic, righteous fury. Blood dripped from her already viscera-tinged mouth as she gnashed and bit, as she avenged them. She avenged them. She felt the wish to cackle in victory and catharsis rise for only a moment before it was completely overwhelmed.

It tasted horrible. Like the bitterest of bile summoned by eating nothing but keratin and cartilage from a lizard’s corpse. It was the worst thing she’d ever tasted, but she still gnashed. This had to be what worked. This was what she wanted.

She tried to swallow and gagged, keeling over and coughing up the now mutilated eye onto the ground in a mush. She held for a second, then retched. She promptly vomited whatever she had in her stomach onto the ground with it.

She gasped in anguish, growling and snarling with each breath as she wiped her mouth and looked urgently back to the corpse, her stomach writhing with disgust and grief. She scanned with maddened, desperate eyes and found that mask it wore.

She bounded to the corpse again, mutilated and bloodied, and sunk her claws into its throat. She growled and gnashed her teeth as she pulled and inelegantly tore the king’s head from his body. She snatched the mask, still clutching the head in her hand and bounded towards the center of the horrible room.

She scampered up the throne with righteous fury and hauled herself onto it. She grabbed a stray spear and impaled the head onto it, placed the mask on her face, turned to the crowd and let out the most guttural roar of anger her lungs and throat could ever muster.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU GET!” She roared, watching the terrified onlookers recoil. “THIS IS THE ONLY THING YOU DESERVE! THIS IS MY RIGHT!!!”

She paused to gasp an anguished, ragged breath, gore and guilt falling from her open mouth.

“YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!” She screamed. “AND NOW WHAT?! DOES ANYONE HAVE THE GUTS TO STEP UP NOW?! WOULD ANYONE FIGHT FOR THEIR FUCKING KING LIKE I FOUGHT FOR THEM?!?”

It wasn’t helping. Why wasn’t it helping. This was it, she’d worked so hard, it had to help, it had to end, it had to stop hurting. The mask felt like it’d been seared onto her face, like blades digging into her scars and burns. Not a single spark of joy or satisfaction made itself known. She would’ve thrown up again if she had anything left to expel, her body screaming as if a plague had infected her organs.

“YOU ALL DESERVE WHAT HE GOT!!” She roared, holding the impaled head up and waving it like a sick flag, flinging blood and gore across the room. “RUN!! GET THE FUCK OUT OR I’LL GIVE YOU EXACTLY WHAT YOU DESERVE!”

Her throat was hurting by now. Her chest and heart burned more than ever, not in anger but in pain. She felt like she was on fire. A few of the scavengers scampered away, but she wasn’t concerned with that.

“What… the fuck…” She gasped to herself, feeling like her vocal cords were made of knives. “Why… I- I avenged you, I made them pay…”

She could feel their gaze. Of the scavengers and the spirits at her back. Whispering, scorning, spiting.

With a guttural roar, she leapt from the throne, into the crowd, and slaughtered.

The few who were brave enough to fight died first. Cuts across their throats, stabs through their ribs, blown apart, tossed aside, like trash. Then the runners, blown to pieces as they run for weapons or backup. Spears through sternums and skulls. Snarling and spitting and roaring and blood, she killed and killed and killed and killed.

So much blood, so much gore. Bodies were piling up now as backup came in and were slaughtered as well. Elite masks broken in half, ripped off of faces and used as weapons to break their wearers. Rocks and shards of metal cracking bones and rending flesh. Vengeance. Fury.

The strong and the weak and the innocent and the guilty, slaughtered without mercy. She tossed grenades at dens she knew would contain unarmed families, she put rebar through the hearts of scavengers she knew were likely parents. She watched them choke on their own blood, clutch at broken bones, whimper and crawl away, and she slayed them too. Whichever ones dared to beg for forgiveness were unrecognizable by the time she was done. She fought for pain. She ripped off fingers and pulled out joints and stabbed at eyes. She broke bones and bit throats and snapped horns and fractured skulls and left the recipients whimpering in pain, bleeding out slowly. She blew them apart, forced explosive spears into their limbs, let electric ones stay in their writhing and gasping victims. She took every opportunity to make them suffer.

She tore and killed and maimed and slaughtered and ripped and blasted and murdered until nothing was left.

She stood atop a mound of bodies in a shadowed room of blood and gore.

And it still hurt.

No.

It was worse.

Her heart ached like the day they took everything from her. Her skin burned with an icy fire that made her want to rip it all off. Her chest felt like her ribs had collapsed in on themselves. She hated it. She hated everything.

She hated herself.

That was what she’d been hiding from for a million years. She was the worst mother and the worst being to live, a scourge, a disease. She was a manifestation of a hell no one deserved. She could feel the ghosts laughing at her. Her hands reached for the ornate mask and began to claw at it. She ripped it off and tossed it into the dirt, and slammed her hand to her left eye so quickly she drew blood. It burned like the day it’d been blown halfway out and cauterized shut in the span of an agonizing minute. Her ragged breathing escalated as her world fell apart.

She turned her head to the sky, scraping her claws across her scarred face, and screamed.

The Artificer snapped awake with a sharp inhale, her functional eye flitting open as her claws dug into the metal. She could still hear herself screaming, hear her own ragged voice echo through her mind and turn to sobbing.

She was nestled in the corner, scratch marks along the walls around her from her sleeping mind trying to find any sense of reality. He breathing was rapid, and by now a tear was tracing down her cheek.

Monster. Demon. Scourge. The words crashed into her mind like meteors. Guilt gripped her like the coils of a snake.

Saint.

Saint, please.

He was asleep, across the room, his chest peacefully rising and falling in unconsciousness.

No, no, no, she- she couldn’t tell him- couldn’t show him this.

Not this, anything but this, he couldn’t know. He’d leave.

He’d hate her, he’d know. He’d realize what abomination he’d been trying to help. He’s at peace. He doesn’t want this. He shouldn’t have to fix you or your crimes. You parasite, you scourge! How could you ask that of him?! How could you do that to him?! 

Whimpering in pain and guilt, she curled up in the corner, hid her face in the shadows, and wept.

Chapter Text

Something seemed off when Saint woke the next morning.

He stretched, yawned, shook the fog of sleep away as usual. And found the Artificer stood in the corner, already awake.

“Morning.” She said quietly.

“To you as well.” Saint replied.

Something laid in her expression that he couldn’t fully trace. She just seemed… off.

“… Did you sleep well?” He asked her.

“… Fine.” She said, only briefly glancing to meet his eyes.

“… Not to press, but that is what you say every day.” He noted with an upturn of thoughtfulness in his voice.

“… S’cuz it’s usually fine.” She mumbled. “I dunno, man, I don’t- sleep well. Ever.” She moved for the door and walked around him. “It’s fine.”

He watched her crawl out of the shelter, and gave a quiet sigh. He wished he could take whatever pain she was still hiding, or at least ease it. But she still stayed partially closed off. He wondered if she’d ever fully open up to him.

He noticed some odd marks on the walls as he gave the shelter a brief glance. Something like…

“You coming?” Asked the Artificer.

“… Yes, I am.”  

They started into the labyrinth again. Saint spent some time wondering about his companion, but there wasn’t much to specifically unravel. He couldn’t deduce exactly what she wasn’t saying, nor its effect, and he could do little about it. He decided it was best to simply file it away and try to quietly comfort her as he usually did.

His heart continued to flutter at the thought, though said flutters seemed to be slowly increasing as time went on. The feeling was enjoyable, but… if he was being honest, part of it scared him. Love was a powerful emotion. And gave way to irrationality.

And grief.

He could try and lie to himself, say he feared what the Artificer would do if she lost him. Or he could be truthful.

He was scared of being hurt. Rejected.

He’d been through worse. He’d been rejected, left behind, experienced unrequited love in both directions. But he had not loved in such a long time, and the strength of said affection was only growing. And on someone so…

Don’t say that. She’s a person just as you are.

It was a knot he tried not to focus on, but he had too. He had to prepare, he had to be ready if he was to help such a damaged being better herself. But spiraling into fear and self-hatred was so, so much easier.

He shook his head slightly to reset his mind, then took a deep breath.

It would be alright.

He hoped.

“… Think some scavs are nearby.” The Artificer said, breaking the silence.

“… Is that a notification or a problem?” He asked.

“Dunno what notification means, but it’s a problem.” She answered. “We might be in their territory? Or near a toll. Not sure what’s worse.”

Saint nodded and sighed through his nose. “… Alright. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

The Artificer did not reply, but she seemed unconvinced.

Saint walked silently behind her as she surveyed the area, glancing around the moss-covered caverns and eyeing the odd vegetation. At some point she stopped, looked around, then quietly groaned.

“Think that’s the way forward.” She muttered, nodding toward a tunnel entrance with a karma symbol graffitied on nearby on a patch of metal among the foliage. “Don’t like this…”

She reluctantly led them into the tunnel, finding it thankfully empty. They walked for a moment, brushing past vines before she suddenly tensed. Saint paused in response.

“… heard something.” She muttered. “… Stay alert.”

She tentatively crept forward for and started moving again. Saint opened his ears as best he could as he followed. He heard… not much, not with so much ambience within the hollow walls. But the atmosphere remained unsettling, watching the Artificers ears twitch as she walked.

Some time passed, and things relaxed just a bit.

They found a corner they needed to turn, and Artificer slowed just slightly to do so.

A blur of motion leapt at the Artificer from behind the corner, and she shouted in mixed anger and surprise. Saint yelped and stumbled back, his eyes finally recognizing a scavenger that had just shoved Arti to the ground. He jabbed a spear at her and she rolled, then grabbed his wrist, kicked out his foot and tossed him against the wall behind her. She got to her feet in time for another scavenger to sink their claws into her back and try to wrestle her down. She thrashed for a moment before slamming herself against another wall to knock them off. Saint crawled away in fear as she grabbed a spear, raised it, and-

“STOP!”

A third scavenger held a spearpoint to the Artificer’s temple, an elite mask with spikes along its sides covering their face.

She stilled and glanced around. The two scavengers she’d injured grumbled as they began to regain their bearings.

The Artificer lowered her spear to her side, and dropped it.

“… Think you can kill me before I take that spear?” She asked, glancing at the elite.

“Think I can’t throw this grenade before you do?”

“Explosives can’t kill me, dipshit.” She spat.

“But you don’t care about you, do you?” They asked.

Saint felt their eyes flicker to his form, and he noticed a bomb held in their off hand.

The Artificer was silent.

“For whatever reason, fuzzy over here-” The scavenger began.

“Don’t. Call him that.” She growled.

“… He’s important to you.” They finished after a pause. “You don’t want him to die.”

“I- I don’t need him.” She stammered. “I can- can find another… other way…”

The simple words made his heart hurt, but it was clear they hurt her worse. She could barely force the half-sentence out of her throat.

The scavenger said nothing for a moment.

“… Tell me. How’s it feel?” The scavenger asked.

The Artificer avoided his eyes.

“To be the helpless one.” The scavenger elaborated. “To be at someone’s mercy.”

“Oh, you’re one of those types, eh?” The Artificer asked, glaring at him.”

“You blew off my brother’s arm and cut the throats of my parents in front of me. But you wouldn’t remember, would you? Or care.”

She did not reply.

Saint wanted to plead with them not to hurt her, but despite the anxiety rising in his chest, he doubted it would do much.

“… Why the hell are you even here?” The elite asked.

The Artificer gave him a confused glance.

“You’re traveling again. You haven’t left that superstructure’s radius in a hundred cycles and now you’re in the drains.”

“The superstructure is gone.” She growled. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Then why is he here?” The scavenger prompted, nodding his head to Saint.

She was silent for a moment.

“… I’m not telling you shit.” She muttered.

“Got anything else to do?”

“She is-!” Saint tried to chime in.

“Didn’t ask you, fluffy.” The scavenger snarled, glaring at him. “What are you doing, Artificer?”

“That is not your problem.” She said, gritting her teeth.

“Then I’ll give this bomb here a light toss-”

“I’M LOOKING FOR ECHOES!” She shouted suddenly.

The scavengers flinched at her shout, then seemed puzzled.

“… What?”

“… ghosts. Mirages. Whatever the fuck you call them.” She muttered in response. “The shiny floating things that look like melted leviathans and spout poetry.”

Confusion left his body, and he gained a demeanor of annoyance.

“… Do you really expect me to believe that?” He said dully.

“Yes!” Saint yelled in a sudden burst of bravery. The scavengers looked to him.

“Yes, you should!” He repeated, getting to his feet. “Because she is!”

The elite paused.

“… What, you got this guy at spearpoint to help you do whatever, or-?” He began.

“She is in no position to threaten me and yet I speak nonetheless.” Saint interrupted firmly. “If I was her hostage, I would have run. She is not lying. She is not compelling me to say this. She is my friend.”

The elite stared at him for a moment.

He snickered under his breath, turning back to the Artificer.

“Are you trying to redeem yourself?” He asked incredulously.

She said nothing.

“… You- you are.” He confirmed to himself. “… Wow. I didn’t know you were that horrible.”

The Artificer clenched her fists and glared at the dirt. The recent events were welling up in Saint’s mind, and likely in hers too. He wanted so dearly to speak out, fight for her, but his morals kept him bound. He couldn’t break them, not over this.

“… You have burnt down the last three tolls I’ve made a living in.” The scavenger continued. “You have slaughtered my best friends, people I’ve loved. You are a- a… I don’t even have a word for it.”

“Stop it.” She muttered.

The elite paused.

“… Can I not have a moment of payback? Is that too much when you murdered my family in cold blood?” He asked her, venom seeping into his voice. “You almost convinced me you hated yourself. But clearly you’re the only one that-!”

The Artificer spun to her side, grabbing the scavengers spear and forcing it into her control. She yanked away in a slight cut across the elite’s chest before one of the other scavengers hit her in the back of the head with there own. Then another tackled her to the ground. She thrashed and clawed for a moment before tossing him off. Saint cried for them to stop. The elite hit her in the back with another spear, swung a cut as she fell and rolled to her feet, then placed his weapon at her throat.

“… You’re the only one that matters.” The elite said, finishing his sentence. The other scavengers got to their feet.

“I’ll rip your fucking eyes out.” The Artificer snarled.

“Really? Is that so?” They goaded. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

The Artificer’s eyes filled with rage. Saint knew what would come next.

“ARTI!” He cried.

She turned and looked to him.

“Please.” He begged her. “Don’t.”

She stared at him for a moment.

Rage shifted to anguish.

She gained a volatile look in her eye. The type one gets when they’re about to burst into tears.

“… You’ll never change.” The elite said firmly.

He reared back his spear just slightly to pierce her throat.

The Artificer ducked, placed one hand around the spear and one on the scavenger’s chest, flipped him over and slammed him into the wall.

She took his spear and spun, striking a cut across one scavenger’s head as they charged and causing them to stumble back and fall. She ducked a thrust and smacked the third scav across the neck. She turned back to the elite with rage, tossed her spear aside, and raised her claw.

She hesitated for just a moment.

She let out a cry of rage and dug her claws into the metal wall beside the scavenger.

As she tore down, it became a sob.

She pulled her claws from the metal and collapsed beside him.

With a ragged gasp, she sobbed as she pushed herself to her feet and screamed into the dirt. She coughed, gasped again, then darted into the tunnels.

“Arti!” Saint cried. He began to dart after her before he hesitated.

He looked around to the scavengers. All three were alive, but wounded and exhausted.

The elite was staring at the rend in the wall, propping himself up on tired arms.

His gaze shifted to the tunnel Artificer had darted down, then to Saint.

“… I’m sorry.” Saint said quietly. “… she is too. If… either means anything…”

They said nothing.

He raced after the Artificer.

He called her name through the tubes of moss and rust and received only the echo of his voice. He ran and ran, looking for any sign of his companion, until he hit a crossroad.

“Artificer!” He called out. Nothing.

One path led up, where he could hear running water. One let rather quickly into shadowy tunnels. Surely she would run for light, right? To better continue her charge?

He caught a glimpse of orange light in the darkened tunnel. He briefly considered before quietly groaning and going to investigate. He’d check, then head up the light tunnel.

Upon closer look, it was a scavenger lantern, strewn along the ground.

It was broken, the bioluminescent fluid leaking from the shell. And it had a piece of rebar through it.

He looked to the wall to find the pole it was once impaled on, and three parallel scratches in the metal.

Saint scooped up the broken lantern and darted into the tunnel.

He ran through moss and vines and bushes, crawled through breaks in the ceilings and walls when massive roots blocked the way. He swung across gaps and pools, his light slowly dying as the lantern fluid slowly leaked out of the broken shell in his hand. The shadows encroached, and still he could not find her. Her ran and ran and prayed he would, not knowing if he’d taken a wrong turn because he could not see another turn to take.

His lantern became little more than a collection of now-dried fluid in his fur, and he tossed it aside. He ran alone through the shadows, through the blackness, eternal and cold.

He tripped over a root, then rolled into a wall of foliage and wood blocking his path. He found no way around, not without sight.

He reluctantly opened his eyes.

He found another way, and kept on.

And on.

Running through the void alone, forever shadowed, forever cold. Guided only by the unnatural light his gaze caused.

He pleaded with fate to let him find her with what breath he had left. She couldn’t leave him here in the dark. How would he ever find his way out of this shadowed abyss?

He knew the answer. It laid in the light of his eyes and the void in his blood.

He would never escape the void.

He found an opening into a cavern, it’s ceiling reaching far, far up into the shadows. A shaft in the metal dug by dirt and running water, illuminated by great vibrant blue mushrooms glowing with bioluminescence.

And on top of one of the mushrooms, lodged in the vertical wall like an outcropping… she was there.

“Artificer!” Saint cried out. He leapt forward and grappled up as quickly as he could, landing on the outcrop with a slight stumble. His companion sat on the edge, her legs hanging off into the shadows.

“Void, Arti, I thought I’d lost you!” He said breathlessly, kneeling by her side and hugging her tight. She reacted to his touch, but did not return it.

“Please, don’t run away from me like that.” He pleaded, pulling away. “You don’t have to-”

“Saint.” She interrupted. “… There’s no point in following me.”

“… Wh- Arti, what do you-?”

“He was right.” She murmured hollowly. “I’m hopeless.”

“No you are not.” Saint said firmly, taking one of her hands in his.

“Yes, I am!” She said, pulling her hand away and finally looking at him. “Nothing can change me. I’m selfish and ugly and cruel and all I care about is myself.”

“You care about-!” He tried to assure her.

“I care about you because you’re nice to me.” She interrupted, looking away.

“That is why anyone cares about anyone else!” Saint exclaimed. “Even if any of that were true, and it isn’t, you can change-”

“Saint.” She interjected again, looking back to him.

“I have murdered thousands of people. I have torn apart families. I have mauled-!”

Her voice broke, and she looked away.

“… Innocent. People.” She finished. “Defenseless people. And when anyone gets pissed off at me for that, I want to hurt them. I do hurt them.”

She turned back to him.

“You can’t change that.”

He shook his head, searching for the words.

“… Arti, I- you…” He stammered.

His voice trailed off.

He could not. He knew he could never change the past, not his nor hers. And with the void so close by, he found his ideals of changing despite who one was seemed… less convincing.

“… Yeah.” The Artificer murmured.

 “… I’m the worst thing to ever live…”

 The words hurt his heart so badly. All he wished to do is ease her pain.

He faced forward for a moment as the two sat there, staring into the shadows.

Saint realized his eyes were still open. After a moment, he let them fall shut.

Silence. 

Emptiness.

…

“… Artificer?” Saint asked into the quiet. “… May I tell you a story?”

She gave him a glance that looked partially anguished, partially annoyed.

“… Sure.” She muttered, shrugging offhandedly and rolling her eyes slightly. “Whatever.”

Saint nodded softly.

“… Long, long ago… there was a god.”

“… and they were cruel.”

“… They had a task, yes, and they fulfilled it. With utmost quickness, I might say, they traveled to where they had to and did what they needed to. But to those in their way, they were… supremely callous. Sadistic. Depraved.”

“They would descend upon the lands in the form of abominations and horrors, all gnashing teeth and flinging blood and visceral, uncaring void. They would maim those in their way and kill others for pleasure, simply because they could. They were power-mad beyond any reasonable expectation, and any creature with knowledge feared them like death itself.”

“But, one day… the god grew lonely.”

“They did not change, despite it. They were worse. They fought with more force and mauled with more anger because it was all that made them feel, but still they yearned for something different. They changed their form, broke their body in a thousand ways, repaired it too, but nothing stopped the feeling. That coldness in their heart, the void in their soul.”

“The god grew nihilistic. Hollow. They trudged through the land in the form of gnats and unnoticed bugs, simply trying to ignore it all. They began to hate themself, believing it was their nature as a deity that brought them this pain. They hated everything. They hated the world and its creatures and themself and everything else. Until they collapsed, lay still, and gave up.”

Saint paused, regaining some of his composure. Despite all the time, the story… still caused him some pain. 

…

“… And then the sky fell.”

“… Their task still plagued them. Their duty. They still had to make their way through existence, do the job time gave for them. And while they did not know it, guilt began to carve at them. So they blended in. Took whatever form populated the land most, only fought to survive, but when they fought, it was vicious. They were so angry, and tired, and hurt, and so much weighed on their mind. They climbed to the top of the world and the bottom of the sea and shattered those above them, only to find… no one was above them. That they were in control. And if they could not free themself, nothing would.”

“And then… they met someone. And that someone showed the god something they had never known.”

“… Kindness.”

“… And it scared them. So new, so… warm, and wonderful, it was exhilarating in ways they never understood.”

“So they… lashed out. And… when the kindness followed anyway, the god… shattered them too.”

Saint felt a tear slide down his cheek at the memory, sinking into his fur and dissolving strands into the golden flakes that fell from an echo.

He sniffled and took a shaky breath, still staring into the shadows.

“… Guilt crushed the god more than even the sky could.” He managed to continue, his voice slightly broken. “All their sins, all their atrocities, every ounce of joy they took from the blood of those lesser fell on their shoulders with double the weight. They could do nothing but sob and scream and walk wretched lands alone, for a hundred years of torment and misery without a soul to help them. Each one who came along, they pushed away. And they believed that that was what they deserved. And perhaps they were right.”

“But nonetheless, one day… the god grew tired of pain.”

“So they stood from their crater of blood and tears, the chasm they had made with the venom in their words and acid in their blood. And they decided… to try.”

“To be better.”

“… Even if it would never matter.”

“Perhaps… because it did not matter.”

”… And that is all they have done since.”

Quiet fell on them once again.

…

“… I do not intend to devalue your sins, Artificer.” Saint said quietly. “But, if it’s any… consolation, you can be certain the worst thing to ever live… is sitting next to you.”

She stared at him in silent disbelief and thoughtfulness, her mouth twitching slightly as she tried to find the words.

“… You were… like me?” She asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

“… Yes.” Saint said quietly. “… Arguably… worse.” 

“… Why?”

He gave a quiet sigh.

“… Because I could.” He admitted. “I took some… sick joy in placing myself as some horrific god of death. I was… malignant, and cruel, and depraved. And all for… nothing.”

“… I’m sorry. I don’t mean the nihilism.” He said softly. “I just hope to… inspire something, I suppose.”

“… I- I…” The Artificer stuttered. “… You…”

Saint sighed into the void of gentle blue light, listening to the rustling of the vines and thickets. He felt… rather cold. Alone. Even despite her presence beside him, encroached in dark, he felt a thousand miles away from anything normal.

The Artificer hugged him so suddenly he nearly dragged them both off the mushroom.

Despite his cry of surprise, she silently pulled them both back up, over to the wall where the outcrop sprouted from, and held him tightly. Her claws intertwined with his fur and her tail pulled inward, bundling him up in a little ball of very confused fluff.

“Wh- A- art- wh-?” He stuttered.

“Shut up.” She said, hugging him tighter. “Shut up, fuzzy. You deserve this.”

His heart could’ve cracked the sky with the force it leapt upward, and likely split the void sea when it came back down.

“… I- I, erm- I can’t move my- my arms…” He stammered, hoping to return her affection.

“You don’t have too.” She said firmly. “This is a you hug, not a me hug.”

Words could not describe how wonderful those words felt.

He felt so warm, so close, so real. The Artificer’s firm skin against his, the grounding texture of her scars and the tightness of her embrace, it was everything he’d pleaded for within those dark tunnels. He wished, he prayed she would never let go.

He felt his emotions well to a breaking point, and he began to cry.

The Artificer stayed silent, pressing him into her shoulder and quietly providing him with what he hadn’t had in several hundred cycles, not truly. Always the one to care for another, never one to care for him. Physical touch was always Saint’s preferred form of affection, and it was a shame he was so often deprived of it in his travels, but he could usually mostly convince himself he was fine without. This was a moment where those barriers shattered. He trembled in her arms, weeping in overwhelming emotion, mixed joy and something more, something deeply, deeply repressed.

He was not alone. No longer in the void, he was here, nowhere else, only here. In her arms, in her embrace, weeping into her shoulder and feeling his glowing eyes flicker open and shut freely. He soaked in every second of it, breathed in the feeling of care like it was the only thing keeping his heart pumping.

“Thank you, Artificer…” He said shakily. “Thank you so much…”

He felt her nod slightly, her chin rested on his own shoulder as he kept in the crook of her neck.

She held him for as long as he needed. At some point she began to gently rock him back and forth, back and forth. It was comforting in a way he couldn’t describe.

For just a little bit, he was free from the void.

Eventually his tears slowed, her cloaking warmth and firm embrace a wonderful pool to pour his soul into. He found she was twirling some of his fur with her right hand, the one pressed to the back of his head. It felt like she was gently scratching behind his ear. The affection made his mind feel the best kind of foggy.

He stopped crying. For a moment he simply basked in the feeling. Of her breath on his neck, of his heart pulsing against hers. Of her claws and her scars and her everything. 

He took a breath, trying to lock the feeling in his memory. 

She smelled of ash and dust and moss. He didn’t mind. 

“… I… I’m alright.” He said, his voice a bit nasally.

“… You sure?” She asked.

“… I am now.” He assured her.

She waited a moment, then sighed.

She hugged him just a little tighter, placing enough pressure to be just slightly uncomfortable for a moment before letting go. The closeness was wonderful. Saint sat knelt in her lap as he had just yesterday after the leeches.

For once, when her hands left him, he didn’t feel an urge to pull them back. He felt… whole.

“… Thank you, Arti.” He said softly. “I… truly, truly appreciate it, I know you aren’t… particularly fond of physical contact.”

She didn’t reply for a moment.

“… Saint, I…” She said uncertainly. “… I’m not… that bad. With- touchy stuff. It’s, uh, kinda nice actually…” She mumbled. “Just. Feel like most people wouldn’t like… want. To be close- to me. I guess.”

“I do.” Saint said quickly. She seemed a little startled by his directness.

“… Sorry, that was a bit… on the nose. But I don’t mind. You are warm, and grounding, and give quite good hugs.”

The Artificer looked at the ground between them and absentmindedly itched the skin around her scarred eye. “Oh- oh, uh… cool.”

“Y- you too.” She mumbled.

Saint smiled softly at her face. Even in shadow and coated in dust, even with her eye so scarred and abnormal… she was beautiful. 

He hugged her this time, squeezing her tight. 

“… I’m glad.” He said softly.

There was quiet for a moment.

“… oh, I- uhm…” The Artificer said suddenly. “I have… s-something to show you, I guess…”

He released her and tilted his head. “… Alright. What is that?”

“… It, uh… I gotta hack up something in my stomach first.” She explained. “If you- don’t wanna be close for that.”

Saint nodded and scooted back just slightly. After a moment, the Artificer hesitantly turned to the side and coughed up a scavenger lantern.

“The reason I… stopped here is cuz. Uhm…” She mumbled, wiping some spit from her mouth. She held the lantern up and Saint followed it’s light.

Falling from the chasm’s roof, up in the shadows of blue and black… were echo flakes.

The two stared for a moment, basking in awe as always.

”… Do you… wanna go?” The Artificer asked, lowering the lantern. 

“… That depends.” Saint answered. “… Do you?” 

The Artificer looked down for a moment, thinking over the question. He saw her glance up to his face a few times, as if it were important too the decision.

After a bit, she looked up. 

“… I do.” 

Chapter Text

The climb was far from easy for either of them. The shaft of moss and foliage, while occasionally lit by bioluminescence, was still nearly pitch black. Saint swung to what few steady outcrops he could find and held close by, watching the Artificer scale the jagged overhangs and thickets. There was water below, but not much. Falling could be dangerous.

The scales still fluttered down, the unique resonances becoming the background of their ascent. High, gentle, far-off chimes, still so quiet.

There was a different air between Saint and Artificer. A connection beyond the physical whenever they locked hands, and he pulled her slowly up to a ledge as best he could. Maybe it was him. And he knew it would be different later. But what wouldn’t?

He was struck with how beautiful this place was, the echo’s blue glow slowly radiating out to illuminate their climb through shadow. Golden petals made rock and moss more clear as they fell with more vigor, and the chimes grew louder. A chorus of ethereal bells, ringing, ringing, slowing… almost to a stop, then again. Growing quiet, fading in and out.

What would one feel, trapped so far below? In the shadow and dirt and rust?

Perhaps he already knew.

They clambered up roots and spiraling plants, massive flower buds larger than themselves. The Artificer leapt from outcrops of mixed metal and dirt and wood onto roots protruding from the ceiling, shaking dirt into the ever-growing chasm. She nearly fell, but he was there, if only for a moment before his frail grip gave out. But then she launched again, and found herself at a ledge. Together, they climbed out of the shadows. Together.

They felt it as soon as they reached the room. Climbing out of a slightly damp, packed tunnel that meandered and trailed upward. Erosion through a thousand years lighting their way till the found themselves, just beneath it.

They were so close. Saint could likely jump and touch them. The room that surrounded the ghost was a spherical cave, uneven, packed with dirt and roots and flowers and life. Blossoming beneath the shadows and dark is a haven for all.

“… Ah! More little ones…” The echo exclaimed, it’s head panning quickly to them once it noticed their presence. “… Tell me, little rodents, do you see the same as me?”

“Beauty and life, continuing to bloom in a place long forgotten?”

Saint tilted his head in interest. For an echo, this was an oddly positive start to their ruminations.

“Oh, how I adore this world we left.” The haunting continued, looking around the room. “I never wanted to leave, I tried to pretend, but I never could. And what a curse it has given me… what a blessing.”

“What gift could the void give that might usurp the gift we have?” They asked, a smile of awe almost present in their nonexistent voice. “I sit here, far below, cloaked in shadow and decay and the eroding of our work, and yet there is so much to see. So much to breathe.”

“They speak of imprisonment while searching for a prison of emptiness.” They radiated mystically. “Hide from the wonder we tried to crush, hide from the wonder we made. The wonder of it all, of the sights and the smells and the sounds that I do not need senses to know are there.”

They turned back to the two slugcats, staring up at the shimmering erasure of a being. Saint was mystified. An echo steeped in all that reminded him of his worst, drowned in the black, that still held their head high. Not in defiance, but in true, real love.

“… Do you see the same as me?” They asked again.

“See that this moment, right here… it is where we are meant to be!”

A kind of stillness fell over them, a kind that never stops moving.

“… I do.” Saint said softly, almost to himself. “… Oh, voids above and below, I do. I must. I swear, my friend, I do.”

The echo tilted their head, almost in a way that implied a warm smile.

“… You are not as you seem, my little friend.” They called gently out. “… And to think, that we are together in this curse, and this hope.”

“… I- I…” Saint stammered. “… I don’t know if I am. I am freer than you, and yet… I can never convince myself of this virtue as wholly as you have…”

The echo stayed silent, staring with their unseen curiosity.

“Can I ever hope to be as you are?” Saint asked himself, his voice almost a whisper. “Are you a mirror of what I cannot attain?”

“… What does that make me?”

He found his emotions rising again, swirling around in his chest as the question bounced around his mind.

“… I do not believe that matters, my strange friend.” The voice of the ghost finally said. “I have asked you before, and you claimed yes. You must be sure one way or the other, of that I am certain.”

“Do you see the same as me?”

“That in this moment, right as we are… that is where we are meant to be.”

Saint fell silent in thought.

He remembered the Artificer, just a step behind and to his left.

…

“… If you have your answer, then I have mine.”

“May none of it fade, my friend.”

Saint awoke in the same shelter he had the day before, his vision flickering open and his mind quietly shifting with thought.

The Artificer was sitting nearby, idly tossing a rock back and forth in her hands. She glanced to the side, then stopped, looking over to him as he got up.

“… Morning.” She said.

Saint did not reply.

“… You alright?”

“… Yes, yes.” He assured her. “Just…”

He turned to the floor in contemplation.

“… Thank you, Artificer.” He said, looking back up. “… Thank you. For keeping me company. I… believe I needed you more than I would’ve thought.”

“… Thank you for being my friend.”

She did not reply for a moment.

“… Right back atcha, fuzzy.” She said, nodding slightly. “I… I’m glad I’m your friend.”

Saint smiled softly at her. She paused a moment.

“… I don’t think I’ve called someone that in… in…” Her voice trailed off.

She went quiet and stared at the floor for a moment. He almost began to say a comforting remark, his smile fading.

A look of… acceptance, in a way, crossed her face. She turned her face a little bit upward to him.

“… You ready to head out of this- moss maze?” She asked, meeting his eyes. “Think I know a better way out, since- the other tunnel took us to scav territory and an echo. Somehow.”

He heard nothing hidden in her voice. No covered pains, no grievances. Nothing being pushed off by a change of subject, just… genuine, nonchalant acceptance.

“… Yes.” He affirmed, smiling softly again. “I believe I am.”

Saint followed her through the foliage and thickets with a new weight lifted from his shoulders. He’d barely processed just how lonely he’d been for quite some time. That was… sadly normal, he’d grown accustomed to being alone after so many years. Breakdowns when he finally found a close friend were not a new thing. But still, the newfound clarity of hindsight and hope of connection was wonderfully freeing. Perhaps he should rethink his coping strategies…

It was almost humorous, his number of flaws in spite of how long he’s lived.

Perhaps it is naïve to assume godhood means flawlessness…

He found his mind focused on the Artificer again. Of their connection in the dark, of the wonder of closeness and vulnerability, of sharing the burden of their curse. It had never been so clear how similar they were. Saint saw more of himself in her than he previously ever allowed. Her grief. Her loneliness. Her desperation to rise past what she once was.

He was struck with a want to be closer to her. Physically and emotionally.

He wanted to say something, but… what?

“… Okay. Should be… that way.” The Artificer said, briefly pausing to find her bearings. “… Because that goes. Up… and then right. Maybe.”

“Good to know you’re so certain of it.” Saint said lightheartedly.

“Shut it.” She retorted. “We’ll figure it out.”

They climbed up a few rusted pipelines where glowing mushrooms sprouted front the metal, hearing running water once again flowing and pushing past vines draped through it. The foliage crept back somewhat as they traveled, light dimming and brightening as they went. Then it returned in force, in a moss-covered cavern with a ceiling opening into a massive shaft decorated in thick roots and large flowers, with a pool in the center of the floor.

“… Think we’ve gotta go up.” The Artificer said. “Cuz then…” She traced a path through the walls with her finger. “… Yeah. Then filtration. Ugh.”

“So up is the verdict?” Saint prompted.

“… Yea.”

The climb was far easier for Saint. He spent most of his time keeping ahead of her to find proper foot and clawholds among loose moss and dying branches. She had to blast across from one wall to the other several times, catching herself from falls or finding a new grip. It was arduous, but they made it. The Artificer made a few muttered complaints of scratches and exhaustion, but that aside.

They crawled into a thick, dark tunnel where moss, rock and metal were halfway indistinguishable. Running water became dripping, trickling fluids and damp ceilings. But through the murky crawl they went, until they found what they needed. A karma gate.

“Fucken hell.” The Artificer muttered, standing up from the crawl and stretching her back. “Alright. Pipes time…”

Saint brushed some dust and dirt from his fur and gave her a quizzical glance. “Pipes time?” He repeated.

“Pipes time.” She confirmed, heading over to the karma gate.

It took about seven seconds of Saint staring in confusion at her before she realized that wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“Oh-oh, shit, yeah. Yeah. Uh…” She said suddenly as the gate closed. “Filtration systems. It’s like- miniature pipe yard? We’re pretty high up in it, shouldn’t be long of a crawl before we get to the caves. Its just… dark. And freaky.”

“… I’ll be honest, if it scares you, it’s likely more than “just dark”.” Saint pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh- relax.” She scoffed. “We’ll be fine. There’s nothing down there.”

Saint stared at her for a moment.

“… Are you trying to avoid scaring me?” He asked.

“No.” She said, somewhat nervously.

“… Yes...” She amended after a moment. “There’s- lizards. But they’re blind. It’s fine.”

The gate finally clicked open and revealed a metal cavern dimly lit in red, flickering fluorescent lights that seemed to convey a mood of pure, unrefined malignancy.

“… I’ll trust your capabilities.” Saint said, staring into the abyss. “… You’ll get us through.”

She grimaced a bit and shrugged in a “hopefully” sort of gesture, and headed forward.

The filters were essentially a series of uncomfortable belly crawls across smooth metal, with little to no foliage like the undergrowth before them. Darkness shrouded everything that wasn’t illuminated by the red lights, their dim glow almost pathetic against the sheer shroud of black. It was difficult to figure out where they even led rather often. Saint felt a little comforted by the Artificer being ahead, but that only made him more conscious of what might be behind him.

It didn’t help that he started hearing growls and scratches in the walls.

He whispered in question to the Artificer, but she quietly told him they should be fine if they were quiet. Up, down, around through the endless ancient labyrinth of dark. Saint wondered how close below the void might be.

Were the sounds getting louder?

The Artificer surfaced from another vertical shimmy and froze solid.

Saint did not have the courage to whisper a question.

She stayed still for a moment.

“… Coast’s clear.” She whispered back to him. She began to crawl again.

“What was it?” Saint asked nervously.

“… Black lizard.” She answered. “The blind ones I mentioned. But their hearing and smell is really good.”

“… And they did not smell you?” He questioned.

“I smell like dirt and ash.” She said plainly. “They smell a lot of that.”

With that conundrum solved, they pressed on. The dark did not let up, nor did the cold metal or the sounds within it. They crawled in anxious quiet for a few minutes, reaching a slightly more open tunnel where they had to search for the next tunnel up.

Until a growl sounded. One louder than they expected.

The slugcats both froze, uselessly trying to probe the darkness for a sign of their predator.

With a low, rumbling growl, the lizard lit up.

Covered in dirt, dust and half-drowned in dark was a thick-legged reptile, it’s head armor glowing in time with it’s growl. It was cloaked in wispy fur that faded into the black, it’s teeth glimmering as it parted it’s jaws. It’s head held no eyes.

The Artificer tentatively began to crawl backwards, facing the beast as it’s brief light went dark. Saint followed suit.

His hand found a loose rock and briefly slipped, sending it rolling away.

The first lizard grumbled and briefly lit up.

Then, four more did the same.

“Oh, fuck.”

The Artificer’s voice brought further attention. Neither slugcat had realized just how wide this tunnel was, or how many secrets it’s shadows hid.

Saint could hear the first beast began to crawl toward him, but it was more like he felt it. Felt the shadows creep nearer.

Another grumble, another chain of the pack lighting up one by one.

The lead lizard sniffed the air, the growled again.

It stepped closer with a snarl in Saint’s direction.

“… Get ready to run.” The Artificer whispered.

The lizard’s vision snapped to her. Rather than closer to Saint, it crawled for her voice.

She scratched across the lizard’s muzzle with her claws, swiveled around and scampered in the opposite direction.

Saint followed suit as fast as he could, racing after her through the dark just in time as she disappeared into another tunnel. He heard the lizards snarling in realization behind him.

It wasn’t long before the pack split into groups, purging the tunnels behind them as they sensed their way forward. Saint blindly followed her through the blackness, stumbling over rocks and bumps as he tried to keep track of her red skin. She actually kept a decent pace for a bit, until she ran face-first into a wall.

“Fuck!” She yelled, stumbling back and looking around. Saint did the same. Not only could he hear the lizards scouring the tunnels, but could see a few through the endless pipes and narrow spaces. They knew these tunnels. They did not need eyes to navigate them.

“Up here!” The Artificer hissed. Saint scrambled after her into an upward tunnel, then left, then looping around a corner and onto a ledge. He barely missed the jaws of one as he turned the corner, scampering away into the shadow. Up, around, left. Still he could hear the pack clawing through the walls, scratching and biting. Another turned the corner and forced them to double back.

They scrambled into a luckily more open room. The Artificer tripped over some loose debris, scrambled to her feet and began bounding up a half-visible set of steps. Saint followed. Only now did it occur to him that opening his eyes would be useful, but then the Artificer scrambled into another tunnel too small for him to take the lead. He didn’t imagine they’d be much help now.

Every time they seemed to lose the lizards, they appeared through the pipes again, snarling as their heads lit up and illuminated the pipes in dim, cold washes of light. Saint began to fear the Artificer did not know where she was going. The lizards were snapping at his heels now, only slowed by their lack of eyes, there was nowhere to go.

The Artificer shouted in surprise and fell down a pipe and out of sight. Saint did not have time to change course and do the same.

He hit the ground into an attempted roll that ended in more of a tumble, ears ringing and back aching. He rolled into the Artificer, who was propping herself up on her arms.

“Oh, hey, Saint!” She hissed, mostly to herself. “Welcome to fuckin hell, hope you’re having fun!”

With that optimistic line, she stumbled to her feet and kept on. Saint barely got up in time to follow.

Through the dark again. He could still hear the lizards through the walls, always heard, never seen. He glanced behind him and found one at their heels, snarling and snapping as it traced the sound of their footsteps. He stumbled and fell. He tried to get to his feet, and fell again. The lizard was just behind him, opening its jaws…

It snapped down onto a section of his tail fluff, and promptly coughed and gagged, trying to rid its tongue of his fur.

Saint found a rock, tossed it square into the lizard’s muzzle, and got back on his feet.

They scrambled through another small wash of red light, the endless pipes briefly illuminated. Up another vertical climb, hearing the lizards snarl and crawl through secondary roots. There was moss crawling up the walls now. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign.

“Do you know where… you’re going?!” Saint asked breathlessly to the Artificer as she bolted ahead. She did not respond.

“Arti?!”

“MAYBE!” She yelled back.

A lizard quite literally fell from an unseen ledge in front of her. She proceeded to trip over it, tumble for a moment, roll to her feet and keep running. Saint managed to leap over, it just barely nipping at his heels.

Further up, wider rooms, perhaps less dark. They had to be close to some sort of exit. The pack was still at their heels, growling through the walls as the pipes began to thin. Their blindness was the only thing keeping the slugcats out of their jaws, barely dodging around as they emerged from tunnels and gaps. Around a corner, another turn.

“LIGHT!” The Artificer yelled suddenly. “LIGHT! NATURAL FUCKEN LIGHT HOLY SHIT-!”

Saint took that as a good sign and redoubled his pace. The Artificer shot ahead of him as the lizards drew towards her voice. He could see the end of the tunnel as she barreled forward.

One lizard emerged. He barely stepped around it.

Another. Over it’s head.

Another, barely missed his heels. Just a few more paces.

One fell behind him. One snarled as he dodged around. Nearly there…

A sixth lizard that had evidently joined the chase crawled in the way of the exit, hissing and washing the tunnel in cold light from it’s eyeless head.

The Artificer shot back into the tunnel, sunk her claws into it’s tail and dragged it into the light.

Saint stumbled, regained his footing, and leapt out of the pipes.

He tumbled across jagged rocks and piles of sediment, his already ruffled and dusty fur being coated in dirt and debris. He sprawled out in onto the rocks and stilled, body aching from the running and crawling.

He propped himself up, eyes adjusting to a massive open cavern where sunlight and snow could finally creep in. He could feel the cold wind again.

The Artificer was breathing heavy, standing over the corpse of the black lizard she’d dragged out of the pipes. The rest of the pack was either snarling at the edge, or stumbling across the rock face and bumping into random objects.

They were a lot less scary in an environment they didn’t live their entire life in.

Saint coughed on some stray dust as he walked over to the Artificer, shaking some dirt from his fur. The Artificer groaned and briefly placed her head in her hands.

“Well, that was just fuckin awful…” She muttered to herself.

“Are they not a threat out here?” He asked.

His question was answered as two lizards bumped into each other and gave a synchronized confused hiss.

“… Not really.” She answered. “Too much noise n… stuff. Plus we probably both smell like… literal piles of sand.”

Saint sighed. “Yes. Yes, that is likely.”

She nodded. “… Should be a shelter over there.” She said, pointing to the other side of the cavern. “I’m getting dinner.”

Saint sat idly by as she ate, watching the black lizards who’d left the tunnels try and fail to find their way back into the dark. He tossed a rock a few times to try and lead them there, but it didn’t do too much.

When she’d finished her meal, they headed across the large, jagged cavern to find the shelter she’d mentioned. Shortly after they did, hearing the howling wind above them through the subterranean gaps. They crawled inside and let the locks fall in.

Saint sighed and began to look over his fur. It was matted, discolored, dusty and dry, and essentially any other uncomfortable adjective one could think of. It felt like sand was filling in the gaps in his skin. He placed his tongue on his arm to try and alleviate that, and immediately nearly gagged from the texture.

“… You alright?” The Artificer asked. He answered by coughing up some dust, which caused her to trot over and sit down by his side.

“Fine…” He signed. “Just… rather filthy.”

She grimaced. “Oh, yeah… you’re not looking too good…”

“I’ll have to clean myself up.” He mumbled. “You’re free to sleep without me, this may take a bit.”

“Hey, wait, you- don’t have to do all that.” She said quickly. “There’s water nearby, you can wash off tomorrow.”

“I’ll get an infection.” He protested.

She scoffed. “Dude, come on. No you won’t.”

“Yes I will.”

“You just have a few scrapes. You look like you’re half-asleep already.”

“That is irrelevant.”

She stammered a bit, then gave a somewhat annoyed sigh.

“Look. Tell you what.” She offered. “I’ll check over you for cuts. And you’ll sleep.”

“… And how do you plan to do that?” He asked.

“… With my eyes?”

Saint paused a moment, then sighed as well.

“Alright…” He mumbled, laying down.

“Alright.” She confirmed. She walked over to his side as he laid down on his stomach so she had access to his back.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” He said softly, glancing at her.

“Well, I’m going to.” She brushed off.

“Arti-”

“Shush.” She interrupted, swiping at his ear with her hand. “Sleepy time.”

Saint sighed and let his vision close.

The Artificer began to lightly ruffle through his fur, looking for signs of wounds. Her touch was comforting, making his heart gently pulse and his mind feel heavy.

This was nice. His worries and anxieties seemed to fade as she ran her fingers through his fluff. 

Before long, he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Saint slept rather well that night, feeling oddly safe and comfortable despite just escaping an ancient labyrinth of shadowy horrors and being completely covered in dirt. His idly unconscious mind seemed to sway in a half-dream, like some pressure was pushing him around.

He sleepily awoke from slumber still lying on his stomach.

There was an odd, repetitive sensation on his forehead. Like something… sliding across it? Pressing against it? He couldn’t tell.

He lightly batted at his forehead, but nothing seemed to come of it.

It wasn’t… uncomfortable. Somewhat rough against his fur, pulling a bit at the strands, but it was actually somewhat enjoyable.

He finally managed to open his eyes and tried to discern his surroundings. He saw a whole lot of dull red and black through bleary vision.

Hmm…

It was the Artificer. She was rather close to him.

…

The Artificer was rhythmically licking his forehead.

The Artificer was grooming his fur.

“… M’am?”

“AHG-!”

She leapt across essentially the entire shelter in a moment as she shouted and perched in the corner.

Saint sleepily raised his head and stared at her.

“… Were you-?”

“NO!”

The loudness of her voice seemed more drawn from panic than rage or anguish. Or perhaps sheer embarrassment.

“No. Was-wasn’t doing that.” She repeated. “No.”

“… You were… cleaning my fur.” He said, propping himself up with a puzzled expression.

She hid her face in her hands to try and conceal her face turning a much lighter shade of red.

“… You were cleaning my fur.” He confirmed to himself again.

Saint stood there for a moment, gazing blankly forward as the Artificer tried to merge herself with the wall.

“LOOK I’m really sorry I know it was a complete overstep I won’t do it again I swear I’m sorry-” She stepped forward and began to ramble. “-I shouldn’t have done that I won’t ever again I should’ve asked and I didn’t and I’m sorry-!”

“Woah! Woah.” Saint interrupted, holding up his hands. “Slow down. It’s alright.”

“No it-!”

“Arti.” He said firmly. “It’s okay.”

She stammered a little bit more, groaned loudly and turned around to hide her face.

Saint took another proper moment to process.

His fur was freshly groomed, cleaned and combed. Granted parts of his legs and some areas around them were still unkempt, but regardless. Nothing itched, nothing scratched or burned, his entire coat was a lovely grass green and fluffed a few inches out from his actual skin. He was soft to the touch.

“… Thank you.” He said softly, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I do truly appreciate the gesture. And perhaps I haven’t made it clear, but I do not mind physical closeness with you.”

She said nothing and gave a quiet sigh.

“… But… you didn’t need to do that.” He said softly. “I was perfectly capable of doing so myself, I don’t want you to make yourself uncomfortable for me.”

She gave an almost imperceptible grunt.

“I do appreciate it.” He repeated. “But you do not owe me-”

“Y’know, what, NO! Fuck you!” The Artificer interrupted, turning on a dime and facing him. “You need to take better care of yourself!”

Saint stepped back and paused in surprise and confusion.

“All this bullshit about what I want, I care about what I should do!” She yelled. Her cheeks were still the wrong shade, but she no longer seemed to care. “You’re my friend, dammit! And that means I’m going to be fucking nice to you!”

Saint very rapidly found himself without words.

“You can’t just put me first all the time!” She continued. “You’re a person! With feelings and needs, just like me! And don’t you dare pull that god shit on me. You told me your actions matter more than your past. And that means you’re just a slugcat, you fucking idiot!”

He couldn’t tell if he was angry at him, herself, or some mix of both.

“You’ve done so much shit for me! You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met!” She yelled. “For fucks sake, I told you I don’t mind fuckin- touchy stuff literally yesterday! And, by the way, WE’RE SLUGCATS! We are a species that sleeps together just because we can! So yes! I did clean your fur! And I’m not about to fuckin- apologize or something just because you think what I want is always more important than what you want!”

She finished her rant and stilled, breathing heavy.

Saint was frozen in a sort of shock.

“… FUCK, I said that all out loud.” She added, turning away again.

Another moment of pause.

“… yeah.” She murmured. “You… put me first too often.”

“N’ you were fuckin- filthy anyway, so.”

Saint was simultaneously trying to find some sort of response and assemble what she’d just told him in his mind.

She… she couldn’t be right, could she?

It was his responsibility. He was… more than that.

But he didn’t want to be. He’d said it himself. He’d give up godhood in an instant to live a normal life.

“I-I…” He stammered. “I…”

“I never… thought of things like that.”

“Oh, no really.” She muttered.

…

“… I fuckin hate this. I’m going outside.”

 Before Saint could formulate a response, or even a word, she turned, pushed past him, and slid out of the shelter.

The Artificer leaned against the rocky wall by the shelter sign, arms crossed, thumping her tail idly and trying to ignore how hot her face was.

She hate, hate, hate, hated that. Every second of that. She was such an idiot. It was all bullshit.

Except it wasn’t.

God- fucking dammit, she was telling the truth. Of course. She barely even knew she felt that way. Because of course, when she didn’t know what to do, she yelled.

She tried to take a deep breath.

She meant what she said. She liked Saint. She was his friend and he was hers. She… wanted to be nice to him. She… didn’t have to come to terms with why exactly she was still grooming his head after he was clean because that was for another time.

She held her face in her hands. Her cheeks were still warm. This feeling made her skin crawl. Embarrassment. Weakness. Vulnerability. She couldn’t let Saint- anyone see her like this.

She groaned and looked up. Her eyes found a small pool of water across the cave.

She bounded across the room, skidded to a stop and dunked her head in the water.

She coughed up some mixture of dirt and sediment and wiped her eyes. Thank hell it was at least cold. She was finally free of that burning sensation in her chest and face, though it still lingered in her heart.

“… Arti?”

Oh, of fucking course.

“Are you alright?”

“Ye-yeah!” She coughed. “Just- saw an eel lizard!”

“… In that pond?”

“… Yes.” She said.

“… Okay.”

Saint was mostly quiet, as usual, once they got traveling again. Evidently her words were giving him quite some pause, but she tried not to think about that. Thinking about that made her think about what she’d said, and that made that feeling come back, and that made her want to pull off her ears. So she didn’t.

Sort of.

She didn’t know how to feel. It felt so wrong, just… feeling in general. The weeks she’d spent changing and becoming… different, it felt like it was all coalescing and it made her skin crawl. But it felt… good? Kinda. Something in her just… no. She told herself it was good.

Ugh.

She was changing. Becoming accustomed to emotion and how to deal with it. If anything alive had made her feel this… weak? No, vulnerable. If anything had made her feel like this before, she would’ve ripped its head off. And Saint still has his head. So she was getting…

Better.

She was becoming… better.

That was such a foreign concept.

She’s been doing this all with an air of pessimism. Meaninglessness. With the idea that nothing would actually come of it. And sure, she agreed to actively search for echoes with Saint. But… mostly to extend her time with him. And in the back of her mind, it wasn’t to become a better person. It was to free herself of her curse, to finally go to the sea and…

Die.

For good.

A sudden fear hit her chest life a knife.

“… Thank you, Arti.”

Saint’s soft voice broke her from her thoughts, though it took a little longer for the pang of fear to leave.

“That was… very kind of you.” He continued. “I admit, you are… perhaps right. In some quantities.”

“… Mm.” She grunted.

Okay, really? You can do better than that.

“… Yeah, I uh… you- yeah.” She mumbled.

“… I’m sorry, I- I don’t- I’m trying to- to- fuck.” She stammered. “I’m not- good at stuff like- like this…”

“No, no, it’s alright.” He assured her.

“Its not.” She corrected. “I hate this.”

Saint chuckled a little.

“… Again, thank you.” Saint said softly. “And, to add… I’m proud of you. I know it’s difficult for you to open up like that.”

She grunted. “Y’can say that again.”

He chuckled again. “You’re improving. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

The Artificer sighed.

She wished things were as simple as that statement claimed they were.

“… I… I’ll try to be kind to myself, as well.” Saint added. “… Admittedly, it’s a… conflicting action for me.”

She didn’t reply for a moment.

“… yeah.” She murmured. “I get it. But… I’ll help you out. That’s what… friends do.”

“… I think. Not exactly experienced.” She added, trying to diffuse that rising warmth again.

Saint chuckled.

“… Yes, yes it is.” He affirmed happily. “You’re a natural.”

The subterranean tramways… had not revealed themselves yet. At the moment they were simply a series of rocky, jagged caverns, ceilings with massive openings letting snow and wind drift through the dark. Pools of murky and sediment-filled water dotted the caves, beneath broken metal remains and further rock formations. Dark and sandy and broken, the cold was in fact a respite from what would be thick, stale air.

“Ugh. Forgot how awful this place is.” The Artificer commented. “Need a fucken lantern again.”

“Are their scavengers nearby?” Saint asked.

“Too many.” She answered.

“… Perhaps enough to hope for them to have already lit the way?” He suggested.

“… Hadn’t thought of that, honestly.” She admitted. “I dunno. Haven’t been here in a while.”

They clambered over another mound of broken rocks to indeed find a lantern stuck onto pole, lighting the path to a series of further orange dots in the distance as industry crept into the black. Scavenger territory.

“Ah, shit, is there…?” The Artificer murmured to herself. “… Ugh. Might be a toll.”

“Hm.” Saint murmured in acknowledgment. “Do you have any idea of where a pearl would be?”

“… Not one that wouldn’t have been picked clean by the scavs already.” She sighed. “Guess we can try…”

She led them down into the cavern, searching among the graffiti and sediment for glints of white or other. They found little. Eventually the terrain shifted further into industry until long-unused tram cars blocked the way, leaving tunnels full of spiders beneath and ceilings spotted with dropwigs. Scavenger lanterns continued to light the way as they furthered into the decayed railroad.

They slipped through another tunnel into the bottom of a rail and clambered out onto dirt-coated metal. More tramways, endless rocks and dark and sprouting popcorn plants.

They headed a little further in, searching for pearls among the sand and dust. They scrounged around a small crater for a moment before something caught the Artificer’s ear.

She looked around for a moment, seeing Saint still crouched looking for a pearl.

Another sound. Her head snapped to it and her eyes found a scavenger.

She froze, feeling that familiar burst of emotion writhe through her skin and clutch her muscles like the coils of a snake. Hatred for everything around her ignited in a blaze and numbed in an instant.

She hit reality when another two appeared by them. The three creatures froze just as she was for a moment.

Okay. This is fine. She can work her way out of this.

She tried to speak. Naturally her voice failed a few times.

The lead scavenger stumbled back, then ran. The next two did just the same.

“Shit.” She muttered. “Wait-!”

They were gone.

“Fuck.” She muttered. “Goddamnit.”

They were running to alert some kind of toll. Or their group. Either a kill squad or a very unhappy toll was going to be a problem up ahead. Life just got a lot harder. Why couldn’t you just say something? You idiot.

Saint trotted to her side.

“… I’m assuming you saw that.” She said, somewhat angrily.

“… Yes.” He affirmed. “You seem disgruntled.”

“They’re alerting their friends.” She muttered.

Saint was quiet for a moment.

“… Why does that make you angry?”

“… Because life just got ten times harder for us?” She answered sarcastically. “You new here?”

“… I’d imagine you feel regret. For the reasons they run and fight.” He offered.

An ache in her chest made itself known again. Her ears drooped to her sides.

“Are you trying to make me feel like shit?” She murmured indignantly.

“I’m trying to redirect your anger.” He corrected gently.

She paused a moment, then sighed.

The ache lessened a little, or perhaps that was the burning anger leaving her body. She couldn’t tell.

“… mm.” She mumbled. “… ok.”

Saint gave a slightly pained expression and nodded. “It is better to face them with regret than with anguish. However much it pains you.”

She nodded at the floor.

“… When you are ready, you may lead the way.”

She kept Saint’s words bouncing around her head once they got back on the trail. The graffiti and scattered lanterns now felt less like reasons to raise her guard and more like reminders. She wondered if she’d ever live without those reminders. She wondered if she deserved to.

It hurt to hold that guilt close. She couldn’t really tell if it hurt more than the anger, though.

A lot of her hurt. And again, she couldn’t tell if it was a different hurt. Or a better one.

Eventually, a scavenger toll did indeed make itself known, jutting out before the broken train cars into the dark. They had no pearl.

She perched at the top and sighed, looking around the room for a way through. A way around, a stray pearl to snatch, someone to threaten.

She mentally kicked herself for suggesting the last one.

“SHE’S HERE!”

The voice broke her from her scan to find a scavenger stumbling down the rocks back to the toll, taking a spear from their back and calling out again to his brothers.

“WAIT!” She called. They did not listen.

“I don’t want to fight!” She yelled again. Again, no change.

She started to try and call out again before stopping and groaning, holding her head in her hands.

“… Do you think they’ll attack us?” Saint asked by her side.

“… Probably…” She groaned.

She started to turn around, indignation in her step.

Saint gently grabbed her wrist.

“Wait.” He asked. “… How about you try to make peace?”

She stared at him for a moment.

“… That’s not possible, Saint.” She said dully.

“I did not say it was.” He said plainly. “It only matters that you try.”

She paused again.

“… It will train your control of anger. It will train your diplomacy.” He reminded her. “You can offer them weapons as payment for passage. And I will be there to play mediator if things go awry.”

She avoided his closed eyes, then sighed.

“… Fine.”

They crawled down through the caves to the toll, the Artificer keeping her eyes out for surprises or attacks. They didn’t find any, thought they did find quite a few guarded scavengers once they neared the toll. Still as stone with their spears readied, eyes flickering around. They looked like they were preparing for an attack. Probably because they were.

“… Hello?” The Artificer asked into the quiet.

Several eyes turned to her. Then several spears.

“Hey, wait-!” She called, tensing. That was evidently enough for someone to toss their weapon.

She grabbed Saint, ducked behind a rock and held low as she could, hearing several pieces of rebar thunk against the cover and dig into the sand.

“… You done?” She called sarcastically from behind the rock.

“Be kind.” Saint gently protested.

She sighed.

“… I’m not here to fight!”

Quiet. Some whispering.

”… Can I come out?” 

The same silence.

“… I’m gonna out now.”

She slowly got up, keeping her hands raised and trying her best to avoid sudden movements. Most of the scavengers seemed somewhat terrified. That did wonderful things for her mental state.

“… Hey.” She repeated. She nodded for Saint to come out. He slowly obliged and stood by her with his hands folded in front of him.

 “… What do you want?” The elite in the toll center asked, her face covered by a normal vulture mask with her status only marked by weapons and decorated horns.

“… To get through.” Artificer answered. “The- the toll, I mean.”

The elite looked around for a moment.

“… Alright. Then go.”

She stepped aside and waved her spear toward the other side of the toll.

“… What?”

“Leave.” The scavenger repeated. “Go. Free passage.”

“… You don’t… need a pay?” The Artificer asked.

“No. I want you out of here as soon as you can be.” The elite said plainly.

The Artificer stared at her for a moment.

“You drag kill squads from idiots behind you at all times and break people’s arms over minor disagreements.” The elite added. “I am willing to sacrifice a few bombs or a pearl if it means you don’t get anyone else killed.”

Something painful formed in her throat and caught when she tried to speak.

“… Not even… Saint?” She asked, her voice sounding oddly small.

“I. Want. You. Out.” The elite repeated. “Go. You and him.”

The crimson slugcat paused again.

She lowered her head a bit, and glanced back at Saint. She nodded her head slightly to the other side of the toll and started heading over.

She could feel their eyes on her back as she trudged over the mound, shadows of the mounted skull at the center covering her in further dark. Anger and hate boiled for both herself and the scavengers. Every step made her want to shout, tell them to stop staring, show them who the Artificer was. But she didn’t.

Saint was by just behind her. She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

She reached the side of the elite in the center. She didn’t know what compelled her to speak, but she did.

“… I’m sorry.” She mumbled under her breath. “If it… means anything.”

She paused for a moment.

“… Get the hell out of my toll.”

The venom in the scavenger’s words hurt more than it should’ve.

The Artificer kept walking.

The two slugcats found another shelter in the rocks and crawled inside. Dejection and indignation still slumped in the Artificer’s demeanor. The shelter led into the internals of a train car, leaving a decent space full of cargo and sediment overgrown with moss. She slumped down against rocks and sighed as the locks fell in.

“… Doing alright?” Saint asked, walking to her side and sitting down.

“Mm.” She grunted.

He seemed unconvinced, naturally.

“… I must thank you again for this morning.” He said quietly. “That was very kind.”

“… You trying to distract me from how shitty I am?” She asked, staring at the ceiling.

“I am trying to make you feel better.” He corrected. “Because I know little will change your feelings on the scavengers.”

“Mm.” She said dully. “Comforting.”

Saint was quiet for a moment. She waited for him to say something else.

Then he hugged her.

“You are not a bad person.” He said, almost sounding frustrated. “You are kind to me if nothing else.”

Her heart began to thump against her chest as he rested his cheek on her shoulder and gently nuzzled her. Her skin tingled where his fur brushed.

Then he pulled away.

“You should practice what you preach.” He said plainly. “Be kinder to yourself as well.”

She sat there for a moment.

“… Okay…”

He nodded in satisfaction. “Thank you.”

“Sleep will help your mind.” He offered. “We should rest.”

“Hmph.” She grunted.

Saint laid down by her side and she did the same with a sigh. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment.

“Goodnight, Arti.” He said softly.

She paused for a moment, the fuzziness in her chest from his embrace still lingering.

“… Night, Saint...” She mumbled.

Saint went quiet.

She sat there for a while, staring at the ceiling above and thinking about things. About the feeling of Saint’s arms around her, how they made her anxieties and anger fade. About the feeling in her chest, the thumping of her heart. What it was.

What it meant. 

…

No. Shut up. That’s stupid.

Be realistic. That’s not even the right word for it. You’re just lonely. 

That… that’s not what it is.

She rolled over, closed her eyes and tried to pry his visage from her mind.

Chapter Text

The Artificer dreamed about Saint that night.

Of his smile. And his eyes. His selflessness.

Of him shielding her from the scorn, from the ghosts and the terrors and the shadows and the grief.

And he turned back to her as they fell back, helped her up, held her hands in his and stared into her eyes, smiling softly.

And then there was a scavenger.

And then a spear.

She wasn’t fast enough to save him.

Saint awoke gently as always, though his sleep that night had not exactly been fully restful. His mind was still somewhat swimming with the Artificer’s words the previous day, and generally swimming with thoughts of her overall. Something was shifting as they grew closer. Something that gave a rush of both joy and fear.

Nonetheless, his vision flickered open to find the Artificer beside him, and things seemed a little less stressful.

She was drawing something in the dirt with her claw, her cheek resting on her palm with her elbow on her knee. Traces of boredom and conflict lay in her stare, though for once it didn’t seem like it was specifically negative. If… worried.

Saint yawned as he stretched, and she did a double-take on him.

“… Morning.” She said a little stiffly, glancing between Saint and her small carving.

“Good… morning.” He grunted, standing on four legs. “What are you-?”

“Nothing.” She interrupted, quickly sweeping her hand over the dirt.

They stared at one another for a moment.

“… That implies it is something.” Saint said simply.

She briefly sighed. “I- I was- I was drawing…” She held her head in her hands.

“… I’ll just- draw it again.”

Saint trotted over to her side and sat down as she began to remake her mural with the traces not swept away. Her expression was a little annoyed, but the fact she was willing to do it at all encouraged a smile from Saint.

She drew two vertical lines, some curved spikes, two half-ovals, it seemed. Then. Some more at the bottom, some extra curves, and he realized what it was.

She had drawn a likeness of him. She completed it with a little x within a circle above his head, the sacred symbol.

“… It’s me.” He said, a little puzzled.

“Mmhm.” She affirmed.

“… Why?”

She shrugged. “I- I dunno, man. You think a lot, makes me… think about you. Dunno how you do it.” She tapped the three little dots into his forehead. “Makes my head hurt.”

“… You have quite some talent.” Saint said, smiling slightly.

She gave a little exhale. “You’re funny.”

“Perhaps that’s why you think about me.” He offered lightheartedly.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She returned. “Or me.”

Saint chuckled. “Genuinely, though, it is good. Considering you have likely tried any form of calligraphy less than ten times.”

“Its called a drawing, nerd.” She joked.

He snickered. “Sorry. Drawing.”

“There you go.” She said, smiling slightly. She finished another drawing of herself, standing by his side. She looked very angry in the drawing.

“There.” She said. “Us.”

She sat back and stared at it for a moment.

“… Us.”

…

“… You’re taller than that.” Saint said.

She scoffed. “What, you still trying to compliment me?”

“Perhaps I just prefer accuracy.” He corrected.

“Oh, shut up.” She said, giving him a light elbow in the arm. “Let’s quit fuckin’ around, I’m hungry. And we gotta figure out where the hell in the caves we are.” 

“Motivated as always.” Saint said as she swept away the art and got up.

“Can it, fluffy.”

The Artificer’s demeanor was complex as always once they set out. She seemed… distracted, like something was quietly nagging at her in the back of her head. He swore he could catch her staring at him every once in a while as they walked the caverns, but never for more than a moment.

Little gave them trouble. Despite the subterranean caverns more gloomy and ominous environment, it was in practice similar to a denser and more dangerous industrial complex. Full of life that was a bit too busy to bother with two random slugcats. Arti found a relatively easy meal in an unaware white lizard, and Saint found himself standing by as she ate.

“… Arti?” He asked as she gnawed. “Do you mind if I ask a perhaps somewhat invasive question?”

She gave him a glance from where she was hunched over her meal. “… Most of your questions are invasive, so shoot.”

Saint chuckled a little at her jab.

“… Why is it you no longer seem to enjoy combat?” He asked. “… I think back to early in our relationship, and the most joy you seemed to find was in fighting.”

She propped herself up and thought for a moment.

“… I dunno.” She said, wiping blood from her mouth and sitting back. “Cuz I’m a sadist?”

“I doubt that.” Saint said plainly, moving to sit by her side.

She gave him an unconvinced look.

“You do not find pleasure in harming others.” He reminded her.

She scoffed and leaned back on her arms. “Yeah, funny. Put me in a room with a scavenger and see if that holds up.”

“You find solace and closure in harming others, but never enjoyment.” He corrected gently. “You lash out violently to release your anger, and while that is not exactly a respectable quality, it is not sadism.”

She stared at him for a moment.

“… Ok.” She said with a small shrug. “What’s your point?”

“… I imagine you find joy in the fight for other reasons. Adrenaline, danger, etcetera.” He offered. “But I find you lack that in recent times.”

“… and you’re asking me why I think that’s happened?” She asked.

“Yes.”

She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

“… I… I guess I’m just… worried about you.” She answered.

Saint gave her a puzzled look.

“… What do you mean?”

“I… I’m scared you’ll- get hurt…” She admitted. “And that… makes me angry. Because that’d…”

She grunted in annoyance.

“I’m- so shit at talking.” She remarked, rubbing her eye.

“No, no, you are doing perfectly fine.” He assured. “I had not connected those dots.”

She gave a halfhearted nod and looked away. Saint held deep in thought.

“I’m gonna- uh… keep eating.”

Saint nodded and scooted away for her to finish her meal. He’d figured her anger was a result of anguish, and simply not knowing how else to react. Though he hadn’t considered it was because, now that she cared about him… she had something to lose.

His heart did a little skip.

Was it… too much to hope? Just a little bit?

The Artificer finished her breakfast and they headed on. This area of the caverns was still populated by large train cars, left to rust, coated in moss and dust. At some point they managed to climb atop them, and from there they were able to stay away from the ground where spiders and centipedes reigned.

Saint at some point wondered how well the Artificer knew the path, considering the desolate places they’d walked. But he was busier with thinking about her on her own. 

“… Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The Artificer asked.

“… You.” Saint replied simply.

She flinched a little at the word, but he did not notice.

“Uh… why?”

“… You give me much to think about.” He answered.

His companion paused.

“… what’s that supposed to mean?” She questioned.

He chuckled a little. “Nothing in particular. I am doing my best to assist you in all the ways I can, and that means I must try to understand your emotional state. One cannot help if you don’t know the problem.”

She looked a little puzzled. “… So, what, you just- spend all your time thinking about… me?”

“Not all of it.” He corrected. “But a part of it, yes.”

“Sounds exhausting.” She remarked.

“Sometimes, thinking is just that.” He chuckled.

The conversation went silent for a moment.

“… some gooieducks up there.” Arti remarked.

Saint drew his closed eyes to the ceiling where she pointed, and found a collection of the odd teal fruit’s hanging from it.

“Good eye.” He said. “Mind if we stop for a moment so I might eat?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Saint grappled his way up and grabbed a few, then finding a rock to sit on atop the car so he could reach the less later. He tore off the black webbing-like substance around the fruit and began his meal.

“… Saint, can I ask a possibly invasive question?” Artificer prompted after a bit.

“Yes, you may.”

“… How are you so…” She paused, then snapped her fingers a few times, looking for the word. “What is it, uh…”

“Thoughtful?” He suggested.

“No, that’s not it. Fuckin…” She trailed off again. “… I dunno. Not- afraid of… saying things?”

He tilted his head and swallowed the fruit he was eating. “What do you mean?”

“You’re like… you aren’t scared to say things.” She elaborated. “It’s like, impossible to embarrass you.”

He thought for a moment, tilting his head.

“… I suppose that is partially true.” He admitted. “I would chalk that up to living for as long as I have.”

“So… how do you… do that?”

He finished chewing another of the teal fruits and swung over to her. “That is a complicated question.” He sat down by her side. “Do you wish to learn?”

“I-I mean… yeah.” She mumbled. “I… I can’t- say things right. Stupid things. Things that I should be able to say.”

He nodded. “Well, what do you think stops you?”

“… I… embarrassment, I guess…” She murmured, looking down a little. “I don’t… wanna say something stupid. Seem… weak.”

“… Or perhaps vulnerable?” Saint added.

“… y-yeah, I guess.”

Saint nodded.

“… Well, that fear likely comes from a feeling lacking safety, that the people around you will fulfill that fear of looking down at you.” He explained. “So… do you feel unsafe when talking to me?”

“… Is that a joke?” The crimson slugcat asked.

Saint chuckled. “Emotionally safe. Safe from scorn or rudeness.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She amended.

“But you still feel averse to speaking your mind?”

“… Sorta.” She said. “… Mostly just the… sappy stuff. That’s a dumb term. Emotions. I think.”

He nodded thoughtfully.

“… I see.” He said. “… Regretfully, the only cure I know for that is exposure therapy.”

“… What’s that?”

“… Doing something uncomfortable until it is comfortable.” He explained. “Think leaping from a cliff to cleanse a fear of heights.”

She processed for a moment, then groaned.

“I just have to… do it?”

“Bluntly, yes.”

She placed her head in her hands.

“Ughhh…” She groaned. “Why is this so hard…”

“Because you have done little of it.” Saint said gently. “Would you like to try?”

She looked up slightly and stared at him for a moment.

“… If it helps the decision, I think you should.”

She got an annoyed look on her face and thought a moment, leaning back against the rock and scratching at her scar.

She inhaled, and Saint almost thought she was going to say something.

“… yeah no im not doing that.”

She pushed herself to her feet, turned on a heel and walked away.

Saint sighed.

“Stubborn as always…” He muttered

“I can hear you!”

“Is it later yet?

“No.”

Saint had naturally told Artificer that she would have to get over her emotional issues eventually, to which she had groaned and proclaimed she’d do it later. It was not later yet. Even after spending most of the cycle wandering, trying to determine if they were going the right way.

“We’ve been walking for… about three-fifths of the cycle.” Saint reminded her.

“And we also haven’t done anything today, so I think it’s fair.”

Saint exhaled slightly in frustration and kept following her. It was unclear where they were in the caverns by now, but he was beginning to lose trust it was the right place. Natural caverns and tunnels replaced buried metal and moss-coated rust, and pools of sandy water dotted the landscape evermore. He was beginning to feel as if they’d simply gone back to shoreline.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Saint asked as they hopped across rocks amidst a stream.

“Mostly.”

“Comforting as always.”

“Shut up.”

They kept walking for a moment before he spoke again.

“… I hope you don’t mind my little jabs like that.” He said, stepping up to her side. “I don’t intend to offend or demean.”

“… Oh, you mean your- lil’ quips?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “What, you scared I’ll get offended?”

“… Yes, yes I am.” Saint asked, a touch puzzled by her incredulous tone.

She scoffed lightheartedly. “Lighten up. I’m pretty easy to make fun of, I’ve said worse to myself.”

“That’s not exactly a good thing.”

“Neither is following around a walking explosive.”

…

“… I suppose you have me there.” Saint admitted.

She snickered and kept walking.

The two went a bit further, hearing water slosh beneath their feet until finding themselves at the end of a collapsed bridge. The pool of water beneath seemed unreasonably deep, and rife with tides and waves. A few hunks of metal still protruded from collapsed struts, but it would by no means be an easy cross. The holes in the rocky ceiling high, high above let blistering winds and sharp snowfall drift through.

“… Imma be honest with you.” Arti said, sitting on the ledge. “… I got no fuckin’ clue where we are.”

“Well, that’s rather unpleasant.”

She sighed gruffly. “Gimmie a sec, I’ll- figure it out…”

She stepped away from the ledge and sat down, searching her mind for the info. Saint sat by her side and observed the landscape.

There was actually some life in the abyss beneath the bridge. Even more interesting, said life contained a few seemingly albino jet fish, their blacks and purples turned to pinks and whites. He was glad to see them, considering the lack of such in shoreline. Life goes on, as he would say.

“… What drew you here in the first place, Arti?” Saint asked into the wind.

She gave a puzzled glance up from the makeshift map she’d been drawing in the dirt.

“In the past, I mean.” He clarified. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, uh…” She clicked her tongue in thought. “… Uh… Pebbles, mainly.”

Saint tilted his head. “Five Pebbles?”

“… Yeah.” She affirmed. “That guy.”

“Why?”

“… Just cuz.”

Saint scooted over next to her. “Now I’m curious.”

“… I used to bring pearls to Pebs.” She explained. “For him to read.”

“Really?” He asked. “How’d you start?”

She leaned away from her drawing and thought for a moment.

“… Found a pearl on top of his can when I first went.” She said. “Just… gave it to him. N’he read it, and I just… kept doing it, I guess.”

“… Didn’t have much else to do.” She continued. “After the scav k…” Her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat. “… after some… stuff, I just… didn’t… have it in me. So I went out and just… looked for pearls.”

Saint nodded silently, waiting for if she might continue.

“… Few of them were cool. Some weren’t.” She reminisced. “Some were a pain in the ass to get. One time I got one from the pipeyard, and It was literally just a map of the facility.”  She chuckled a bit. “Said he’d toss it, told me to fuck off. But… he still kept it. In a corner with whatever else I brought him.”

She looked up from the ground, the slightest smile pulling at her lips. Saint scooted closer to her side.

Her smile faded.

The Artificer sighed.

“… I… I miss him.”

Her gaze slowly fell to the ground, a deep pain revealing itself in her eyes. Saint was just beside her, silent.

She stilled a moment, then leaned over and laid against his shoulder.

Before he could process it, she recoiled.

“S-sorry, that was- I’m fine, I’ll just…” She muttered rapidly, beginning to get up.

“Hey, hey, wait!” Saint said, gently grabbing her hand. “Hey.”

She stilled, half stood for a moment.

“You don’t need to be afraid.” Saint said softly. “It’s okay.”

She was still for another moment, then sat down with a huff.

After another moment, she leaned over onto his shoulder again.

“Grief comes and goes.” He said softly. “Don’t hide from it.”

She sighed, falling further into his fur in silence.

Saint shuffled them a little forward to the edge of the bridge, then rested his head atop hers. He shifted his tail next to hers, put his arm around her and stilled.

And then it was quiet.

The gentle drip of water from stalactites, the blistering of wind and splashed of water. Saint’s heart beating gently and pushing away his doubts. He hoped his companion was comfortable, but given how far she’d nuzzled into him, he didn’t have much to worry about.

The Artificer sighed again.

“… thanks…” she mumbled.

“Always.” He returned.

They sat there for a little while, listening to the waves and enjoying each others company. It was an odd comfort, this dissonance of the dark and jagged atmosphere with the tranquility of an isolated place so late in the cycle. Saint wondered if the Artificer shared his thoughts of comfort, and if she did so willingly.

What a place he’d found himself in. Just a bit away from the cold abyss he had to call home, falling in love with a slugcat who fate deemed too cruel to ever see that void. A contradiction, holding one another close. Two sides of a coin. 

Would they forever be two sides? Just a bit apart? One left behind while the other shines in the sunlight? 

He hoped not. 

But here… he believed not. He believed things would work out. With him and his companion. 

Saint wanted to say something. Something kind, something that would properly convey how much he cared for.

But he did not.

”… Saint?” 

“Yes?” 

“… I’m gonna try to say something nice.” 

He chuckled a little. “I believe in you.”

”… I… I’m really happy I met you.” 

He was almost afraid she would somehow feel the pulse in his chest. 

“… Knew you could do it.” He said softly. 

“Mmhm.” She murmured. “Totally don’t wanna hurl myself off an iterator can right now.” 

He snickered. “Don’t worry. I’ll restrain you.” 

She snorted. “Good luck.” 

With a newfound lightness (and an emanating embarrassed pride from Artificer), they sat still for another while. At some point, Arti put her arms around Saint without seeming to notice. She seemed to oscillate between comforted and grieving, but he was happy to say she seemed to be taking it well.

At some point, an albino jetfish made its way to the surface. It scrambled around for a moment before diving down, then launching up and landing on a nearby broken piece of the bridge.

“Why are all of them so stupid?” The Artificer asked, her voice slightly muffled by his fur.

Saint chuckled.

“Like, what are they running from?”

Saint, through his laughter, noticed a gap in the waves.

A leviathan surfaced from the waves, hydraulic jaws pulling open as it leapt out to show that it shared it’s prey’s condition. Once black skin turned a brilliant white with tints of pink among it’s fins, accented with the seaweed and sand muddied across the surface. The behemoth hit the peak of it’s arc, jaws open, shining brilliantly in the splashing water and light snow. It was oddly beautiful.

The cyborg fell, clamping down it’s jaws and crunching a solid chunk of the rock and metal into dust. It barely missed the jetfish.

The hydraulic anomaly splashed back into the water and swam back down into the abyss.

After a moment, the jetfish flopped back into the pool and shot away as well.

The two took a moment to stare in awe and confusion.

“… Oh.” The Artificer said. “I know where we are.”

“… Is that so?”

“The leviathan lake.” She said plainly, sitting up. Saint felt a little colder without her next to him. “There’s a shelter like, right over there.”

“… And how do you know this?” He prompted.

“… Would you forget a fuckin- albino leviathan?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“… I suppose not.”

Chapter Text

That night, Saint was dreaming.

It was a good dream. For once.

Just him and Arti, sitting by that lake again. Everything was okay. Nothing was bad.

He was a slugcat.

Everything was fine.

And there was the leviathan, a spectacle erupting from the water.

White and pink, a great serpent rising up.

White and pink.

Rising, stilling. Floating.

A great serpent. Floating.

Something was wrong.

Arti dissolved beside him. The shadows crept in.

The leviathan was falling now. It’s head, crashing through the air to collapse the ground and drag him into abyss.

A void worm hit the ground mere inches in front of him, it’s light dissolving rock and matter into golden sludge, its two eyes twisting into a mouthless expression like a sick, cruel, grin. A static buzz of horrible eldritch laughter in his ears.

“I MAY NEVER REACH YOU, UNDOER…” It called out through static, demons clawing from the shadows to seep into his mind. “BUT YOU MISTAKE YOURSELF. YOUR TIES TO MY PATHETIC REALM WILL BE YOUR UNDOING!”

It cackled horribly as it slid back into the dark below him. Saint scrambled back, but his hands were dissolving in front of him. A hook had sunk into his foot.

He was dragged off the rocks and pulled into the abyss.

Saint woke with a shout, raising the symbol in a pang that shattered the once-silent room. The Artificer leapt up with a yell of her own and threw the nearest debris her claws found at the door, only to see it still locked tight.

“What in the FUCK-?!”

Her eyes found Saint, hyperventilating and crawling into the corner, his eyes forced open and wide with fear.

“S- Saint, what-!?”

He sputtered out some unintelligible nonsense. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His veins flowed with forbidden knowledge and his mind broke under the force, the shadows seeping in, symbols floating around his vision and whispering to him.

One could only imagine what it looked like to her.

“Saint, what- what happened…?” Artificer asked, genuine fear in her voice.

Saint shook his head. He couldn’t find his voice.

He was unraveling. His senses brought to boil and pulled apart, bending and breaking and twisting until he’d never know what was real and what wasn’t. He could hear the laughter still, not in his head, but far, far, far below.

The Artificer ran forward. He tensed and nearly disappeared.

An anchor struck his dissolving form like a bolt of lightning and dragged him back into reality.

The Artificer was hugging him. Wrapped around his form like she once did in the canopy. Now, she was faced with a different cold when her skin met his.

“Breathe. Breathe, goddammit, breathe, Saint.” She ordered.

“C-Can’t…” He sputtered. “C-can’t breathe, can’t- can’t… not…”

“Yes you can.” She said firmly, squeezing him tighter. “It was just a dream.”

“N-no… vision…” He gasped, pushing and kicking weakly at her. “Dragged- down… dissolving… dissolving, dissolving-!”

“You’re here, Saint.” She said sternly. “You’re real, you’re here, you’re fine. Nothing can hurt you.”

“V-void…” He murmured absentmindedly. “Void… void…”

“Wake UP, GODDAMMIT!”

She physically shook him around as she said it, then essentially smacked him right across the forehead.

“Oh, fuck.” She muttered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Saint, I’m sorry…” She said quickly, hugging him tight. “Please, be okay, I’m sorry…”

“… A-ar… Arti?”

She paused for a moment.

“Yes.” She said quickly, curling around him. “I’m here. I ’gotcha.”

“W-wh…” His mind rushed with clarity. Warmth, closeness, care, safety. Was it really just a dream?

“It was just a dream. You’re okay.” She continued worriedly. “Stay with me.”

He sputtered a few more nothings, his heart racing and his eyes still open.

Then he finally curled up and buried himself in her arms.

“Shhhh…” Arti whispered. “It’s okay… I’m here…”

“A-arti, the worm…” He murmured, trembling. “It- it-”

“Worm can’t hurt you.” She said plainly. “You’re better. Older.”

“It- it can hurt you!” Saint protested, looking up at her.

“You wouldn’t let it.”

He paused, still shaking, breath still rapid.

“See?” She prompted, placing her claw on his cheek. “It’s alright. You’re here. You’re with me.”

He could only silently press closer, melding into her embrace. She clutched him to her as if he might disappear any moment, shifting one hand to the back of his head to pull him further in. He finally managed to close his eyes.

It was quiet for a bit.

Saint had time to remember where he was. The shelter by the bridge, another wider one full of scrap, rocks and moss, giving a wider space. Right now, they’d huddled in a corner of the alcove, the rusty and mostly broken door still locked and half blocked by the rock.

“… What happened?” Arti asked eventually.

“… I… a dream…” He mumbled, still shaking a bit. “The… the worm…”

“… What do you mean?”

“We… we’re near the void…” He explained. “The… worms have a- a better hold on me…”

“… Saint, I- I don’t understand.” Artificer said quietly, adjusting slightly.

Saint went quiet for a second.

“… I have… visions.” He said quietly. “Dreams. Of… of the void worms.”

“It’s complicated. But- individual worms represent… individual cycles. Planes of existence.” He continued. “The void is the uniting point. So… whichever worm represents this cycle is who I’ll answer to when I… ascend.”

The Artificer grimaced a little at the word.

“The… the current worm has… problems with me.”

She looked puzzled. “… How? Aren’t you… more important than it?”

“… yes…” He affirmed halfheartedly. “But they are… displeased with my actions. And they and their sympathizers have been… attempting to cause me turmoil.”

“… Why?”

…

“… Because of you.” He murmured.

She paused for a moment, then gained a look of realization.

“It-It’s not because of… you… only…” He said quickly.

His mind was brought to his heart. To an unnatural affection, to a connection unjust that would weaken him.

“Just… the wasting of time. They think… I should not dawdle so much.”

The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

She paused again.

“… huh.”

Silence fell again.

He felt horrible. So close, yet so far. His thoughts still whispering, no longer in those ethereal voices, just scared, sad whimpers. That he didn’t deserve this. But she was so warm, so gentle, so firm…

…

Keep it together Saint. 

It… will be alright.

“… I’m… okay now.” Saint said quietly. “You can… let go of me.”

“Oh.” She said, seemingly a little startled. “I, uh… okay…”

She hesitated, then unwrapped her arms from him and crawled back a bit.

“Sorry, I’m… not the best at hugs…” She mumbled.

“No, no, you are fine.” He assured, propping himself up.

She gave him an odd look. “Then… why don’t you like them…?”

“I do.”

She looked genuinely bewildered.

“… then why’d you ask me to get off you??” She asked incredulously.

“Be- Because I don’t… need you to hug me all night.” He stammered. “I’m okay.”

She looked annoyed. “Do you want a hug or not?”

“That is irrelevant.”

“You’re irrelevant.”

“Arti, I- I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or embarrassed.” He stammered.

“Dude, we had this conversation two days ago.”

“And it made you uncomfortable!”

“And who’s problem is that?!”

Saint started to say that it was his before he realized how off it sounded.

“Mmhm. Yeah.” The Artificer snarked. “Who’s problem is it?”

Saint sighed, briefly bringing a hand to his forehead. “As your friend and being attempting to assist your betterment, it is my responsibility to put your needs before mine.”

She scoffed. “Okay. Back atchya, buddy. That’s my job too.”

He almost scoffed in bewilderment. “I- I am different.” He said firmly.

“Bitch, you’re a person same as me!”

“I know for a fact you don’t believe that!”

The sudden venom in his words surprised even him.

The Artificer gained a look of offended bewilderment. As if she were appalled he’d even dare to think the words.

A look of disappointment.

He tried to say something, but he could not. His mind scrambled to justify, to explain, to be the rational compass, the voice of reason. To apologize and keep his opinions intact.

But he could not.

“… Okay. Whatever.” She said, throwing her hands up.

“I’m going back to bed.”

She turned, crawled into another alcove in the corner of the shelter and hid from his view.

He stood there in the dark for several seconds, the conversation echoing in his mind in a chill that swept his skin and left him feeling so, so alone. So, so cold.

He’d failed.

As a god. As a slugcat. As a Saint. As a friend.

The voices returned, except now they were hateful. Hissing insults and scorn. He tried to block them out. He was better than this. He had to be better than this.

He shook his head and turned away, crawling into the corner and laying down.

Saint struggled to fall back asleep that night.

Arti awoke next morning quickly as usual, but that did not mean she got up quickly.

She laid there for a while. Thinking about last night. The things she’d said, the feelings in her chest, and the anger when they were denied. The idea of the friend she’d left to sleep alone.

Was she really in the right?

Why couldn’t she be more like him? More forgiving, more understanding. But no. Instead, she’d sulked in the corner, refusing to face the problem.

She should’ve…

… She didn’t know what she should’ve done.

But it should’ve been more than what she did do.

She finally stood with a sigh, stretching her legs and glancing to the other side of the shelter where Saint should be. She didn’t find him.

After a longer pause than was warranted, she crawled across the alcove and around the rocks. She didn’t find him.

A pang of fear sounded in her heart, but she calmed it. He wouldn’t just… run away.

There was a drawing carved in the dirt, swept over as if to mask the mural. But the sweep was weak and light, leaving most of it intact. It was Saint, with ethereal, echo-y tendrils binding his arms and feet, head hung low in defeat. It was uncannily detailed. It almost looked like it was grafted on by some sort of template, rather than drawn.

She swallowed and gently scratched away the drawing. Maybe some things weren’t meant for her eyes.

She headed out to the shelter exit and crawled out. He wasn’t waiting outside.

… Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Saint wouldn’t want you to panic. Stop panicking.

“… Saint?” She called out, her voice echoing through the cavern.

She picked up some movement a bit away, something rustling through the bushes.

She crouched low and tracked the noise, prowling across grass-covered rocks back towards the bridge over the leviathan lake. Something was here, she was sure of it now. She picked up some tracks heading towards the ledge, then heard another rustle.

She growled lightly, facing the noise. Something was hidden nearby. She noted a rock just large enough for something to hide and crawled towards it. Around the side… another rustle. She dashed around the rock just in time to see something jump off the bridge ledge, but she heard no splash. Must’ve caught a lower outcropping. She ran to the ledge, knocking debris into the water.

And found Saint, huddled on a hunk of broken metal sticking out just above the waterline.

“… D’you really think you’d be able to hide from me?” She asked, giving him a worried look.

He avoided her eyes and did not reply.

She examined the jump she’d have to make to the lower ledge. “You, uh, wanna… come up here? So we can… talk?”

For a second, he was still quiet.

“… I should apologize.” Saint said, guilt in his voice.

“… I mean- I’m not angry.” She offered. “You didn’t mean that.”

“I did.” He corrected sadly.

“… But you don’t now.” She said plainly.

“That doesn’t matter.” He stated. “I said it. I’m sorry, I-”

“Doesn’t the present matter more than the past?”

Saint started to say something, then stopped.

Artificer sighed. “Fuck this, I’m coming down.”

She leapt from the ledge and fell, claws extended to catch the outcrop. She smacked onto the edge and inelegantly struggled up, leaving several claw marks in the rock and nearly falling off in the process. Nonetheless, she managed.

“You told me- that the present is more important.” She grunted, heaving herself onto the outcrop. “It… matters more what you do now than then.”

He stammered, then went quiet again. It wasn’t like him to be so at a loss for words.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” She prompted.

“I need to apologize first.”

“First of all, no, second of all, why?”

“Answering that would make you pity me.” He said quietly. “Just… please, let me get my thoughts-”

“Ababababababashutup.” She babbled, making a time-out motion with her hands. “Why is me pitying you a bad thing?”

“I don’t deserve it.”

She stared at him for a moment, silently bewildered.

“… Are you kidding me.”

“I have failed in more ways than you know.” He said quietly. “I need to find my own way out of this.”

“Failed, how?

“Insulting you, failing to apologize, and being completely unable to think my way out of this situation despite being a god.”

“You aren’t a god!”

Saint seemed to flinch, almost a mixture of anger, surprise, and heartfelt gratefulness on his face.

Arti sighed. “Sorry, I’m bad at this.” She took his hand in hers. “Please, just tell me how you feel. I know you can find your way out of… whatever you’re stuck in, but not like this.”

He glanced at her, than away, silent for a moment. She found herself gently twiddling the fluff around his hand.

“… I… I want to apologize. To- believe you. When you say my origin is… irrelevant.” He managed, staring into his reflection in the water. “… But I just… can’t shake the feeling that it is different for me.”

She nodded for him to go on.

“I- I want to keep this mentality, keep my ideals intact, but I… I can’t do that with an apology.” He explained. “I’m a contradiction. A hypocrite. You’ve revealed a deep… flaw…” He said the word like it was poisonous. “… in me that underlies my entire worldview.”

“… All because you just wanted to comfort me.”

Arti was silent for a moment.

“… Is it different for me, Arti?” He questioned, finally glancing her way. “… Do you truly believe it isn’t?”

…

“… Saint, you’re still a person.” She reminded him. “You still have wants and needs to be given.”

“… But…”

“No buts.” She interjected. “Just because you’re old as dirt doesn’t mean you aren’t a person.”

“When we met, you said you weren’t a saint, you just wanted to be one.” She added. “You’ve set your standards way too high. You can make mistakes. You can mess up. You can care about yourself.”

He was quiet, staring into his reflection in the lake.

“… You taught me to care about myself.” She reminded softly.

Silence. Saint looked as if he might cry. It broke her heart to see him like this.

“… Do you want a hug?”

After a moment, he gave a very subtle nod.

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight, reveling in the softness. He was extremely huggable.

She paused for a moment, examining that particular thought. She found her heart beating a little faster.

Saint finally leaned into her embrace and hugged her back, arms around her torso and nuzzled close to her chest. She felt his conflict and tension slowly drain as he relaxed, tied down to earth by her embrace. She was an anchor.

“This feels so wrong…” He mumbled into her. “I barely even apologized…”

She nodded sympathetically. “Yeah. I know that feeling.”

“You’ll get over it.”

He pressed closer to her and shut his eyes tighter. She closed her own gently and stilled.

It was calm.

… A subtle rhythmic buzz began to emanate from Saint’s chest, as if he were vibrating.

Both slugcats paused. Saint seemed very confused.

“… Someone’s happy.” The Artificer said quietly, smiling a little smugly to herself.

“I- I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t know what’s happening…” Saint said, sounding thoroughly confused and a little embarrassed.

She scoffed. “You’re funny.”

“N-no, I swear!” He exclaimed, his voice briefly stopping the buzz. “I don’t mean this, I- I don’t know why…”

“… You’re purring?” The Artificer pointed out.

“… what?”

“You’re purring.” She stated. “Yknow. That little-” She extended her neck and emitted a similar purr, albeit lower and more gravelly. “- Thing we do when we’re happy? Shows comfort without a mark or somethin…? … Ring any bells?”

“… I- I… no…” Saint admitted.

“How?” She asked incredulously. “It’s a biology thing, all slugcats do it.”

“I- I only cobbled this form together from basic slugcat biology and then modified it…” He clarified. “I’ve- I’ve never experienced this before…”

She stared at him for a moment.

She stifled a giggle.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Saint exclaimed.

She barely managed to choke back a laugh.

…

Saint crossed his arms and pouted. “This is not funny.”

The Artificer burst out laughing in a joy that echoed across the cavern, nearly toppling over. She giggled madly and shook Saint around in her arms, cackling with amusement.

“Someone likes meeeeeeee!” She teased.

She cackled as Saint pouted and avoided her eyes. She couldn’t see due to his fur, but he was very aware that he was blushing furiously.

“Don’t worry, fuzzball.” She said, squeezing him tightly again. “I like you too.”

Saint yelled something in a mixture of anger and embarrassment, though his voice was muffled by being pressed into her for any words to be intelligible.

She giggled and released him. “Sorry, sorry, I’m- bein a fuckin’ slugpup…” She snickered.

Saint gasped for air a few times. “When did you become so- so-?!” He stammered, failing to find a word for her behavior.

She giggled again. “When it started annoying you, I think…”

Saint rolled his eyes as best he could with them shut and looked away. After a moment of listening to Arti’s laughter, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“… maybe it is a little funny…”

Arti snickered yet again. “Knew it.”

They shook off their chuckles together and finally calmed down.

“… Alright.” The Artificer said. “We should head out.”

“… Yes, yes.” Saint affirmed. “Been a long morning.”

“And I’m hungry.” She added. “Let’s move.”

The day from there was simple. Travel, chat, food till they found a shelter in yet another train car amongst a chain of them. Arti said they would reach the echo soon. They crawled in and settled down, finding a comfy spot in the back upper corner where a pile of moss-covered crates stacked nearly to the ceiling, and some debris and a metal pole made a sort of door to the rest of the shelter. It was cozy.

They laid down, Arti pawing at a spot to curl up as Saint shuffled for somewhere comfortable next to her. Artificer felt rather relaxed, though something struck her once she’d settled in.

Saint. She wasn’t good enough at reading him to tell, but she wondered. Would he be worried about falling asleep? Leaving himself vulnerable to those… worms?

She turned her head away and rested it on her paws, conflicted.

She did want to hug him.

But… she thought about her heart, racing whenever they touched.

The softness of his fur, and the calmness of his voice, and every little trait she’d come to know that knocked down her walls like they were nothing.

She… she couldn’t like him in that way.

It wouldn’t work, it never could. He doesn’t- she can’t…

No, no, no. It isn’t like that. It isn’t. That won’t happen.

She can’t lose him now. She would never forgive herself if she did.

She swallowed the fluttery feeling in her chest and shut her eye.

“… Arti?”

Her thoughts went quiet and her eye opened again.

“… yeah?”

“… Would you mind… uhm… hold- holding me again?”

Shit.

She couldn’t say no. She didn’t want to say no.

… It was just for him. 

Yeah. Just a favor. 

“… yeah, of course.” She said, turning to him.

“… You would mind or-?”

“Just- shut up.”

She crawled over and collected him into her arms, pressing him into the crook of her neck. He seemed a little surprised at first, but after a moment he somewhat reluctantly pressed into her as well. He was so small, curled up in her arms. It was… adorable. She couldn’t find another word for it.

“You’re- very warm…” He mumbled, a little smile pulling at his lips.

“Mmhm.” She murmured, trying to push back her heart. “G’night, Saint.”

“… Goodnight, Arti…”

He fell quickly asleep within her embrace, nuzzled closely into her. He was smiling a little. She was struck with an urge to squeeze him and shake him around.

Get a hold of yourself, Arti.

She closed her eye and breathed in the comfort of his fur, trying to avoid the flutters it gave her. Eventually, she fell asleep.

Chapter Text

When the Artificer awoke the next morning, Saint was purring again.

A rhythmic vibration in his chest, a gentle, happy smile across his face as he curled up in her arms. Her heart skipped a beat when she registered the scene. He was so small, so frail…

She exhaled gently and pressed her forehead against his, conflict burning in her throat. She couldn’t find words or thoughts to describe it, she just… wanted to be close to him. She cupped his cheek with her claws and closed her eye, trying to breathe in the feeling while equally shielding herself from it.

After some time, Saint stirred.

“… Good- morning…” He said sleepily, his eyes flickering.

“…mm.” She grunted. “… Sleep okay?”

Saint yawned and stretched out of her embrace, freeing his legs and arms. “…yes.” He affirmed peacefully, smiling gently. “… thank you.”

She managed to smile in return, though she couldn’t tell if it looked forced.

“… I’ll… get up now.”

He nodded and she crawled away, stretching her own legs and standing. Saint got up as well and shook some dust off his fur.

“How about you?” He asked.

She paused a moment to figure out what he meant. “… Oh, sleep. Uh… fine.”

“The good kind of fine or the bad?” He prompted, tilting his head.

She snorted. “Hell if I know.” She turned for the door. “Let’s get moving, we’re almost out of these damn caves.”

Saint couldn’t tell if she was exaggerating or not.

The whole of the tramways was just as dark as the rest, even as caves narrowed and widened and shrunk and grew. They found monster kelp shifting more commonly in the shadows, and the markings of old industry grew clearer along with the spiders that infested them. And it got… colder. The gaps in the ceiling letting more wind and snow through. Though still nothing compared to what they’d faced above ground.

“This way.” The Artificer commanded, leading them through yet another meander. “I think we’re close to the cliffside.”

“The cliffside?” Saint repeated in question.

“The cliffside.” She affirmed.

“The cliffside, of course.” He muttered. “How could I forget…?”

They wriggled through a few more tunnels before surfacing in a larger cavern adorned with various plants, metal beams stuck through the ground, and indeed, a large sheer cliffside leading to a further path high above. The collapsed rail structures and fallen train car nearby made quite the impressive scene. Saint wondered how long ago these rusted behemoths cracked and fell.

“Are we climbing that?” Saint asked, eying the centipedes skittering about nearby.

The Artificer scoffed. “Nah. That’d be hard. Should be a tunnel dug out nearby that’ll lead to the rails up there.”

Saint briefly wondered how such a tunnel could exist before he remembered the centipedes surrounding him. Though that wasn’t exactly comforting.

She did indeed find a gap in the nearly vertical wall of dirt, clambering through and beginning another crawl. Saint followed after into the dark.

He went back to his silent, wandering thoughts. Threats, the events that made these tunnels, the creatures that crawled through them. But he kept finding himself thinking of her. It was almost distracting.

Something about her was… nagging at him.

She was there when he needed her. And she was trying to do so more successfully, and she was… almost trying to return the assistance he gave her. In a brunt, straightforward way, albeit. But there was still such a deep conflict, shimmering in her eyes, in her demeanor. She still avoided his eyes at times, but why? Not of hatred, not of distaste, perhaps of conflict over her slow pace of change, but that didn’t feel right. Not of his origin, she’d made that clear. Not annoyance, if her words were to be believed.

So… what could it be?

Maybe he was being irrational. Perhaps hopeful. Wishful thinking was something he tried to avoid, but… what if…

… What if she shared his feelings?

A voice cursed loudly in front of him. Then the Artificer was scrambling backwards.

“RUN! RUN! GET ON IT, FUZZY, WE HAVE TO FUCK OFF!!”

Saint was essentially trampled over before he could even process that she was probably telling him to run from a predator. He stumbled to his feet and crawled as fast as he could through the tunnel. Up, right, through the dust and dark, his mind racing for what could possibly terrify her so thoroughly. Then something struck his ears.

A skittering sound, throwing around dirt and cutting through the ground.

He dove out of the tunnel after the Artificer and briefly paused to see where she went. She glanced around the room for a moment until her eyes found the cliff. She gritted her teeth in annoyed determination.

“Change of plans!” She shouted, bounding towards the wall. “We’re climbing!”

Saint darted after her and grappled his way up a little bit, pausing above her and scrambling for a place to grab. The Artificer scrambled up beneath him, throwing dirt and debris off the cliff with each wild snatch for traction. She nearly slipped before he managed to grab her hand, nearly falling off himself before steadying. He swung a touch and weakly tossed her upward; thankfully a crack signified her explosive jump, and she found a grip on the wall again.

Not far beneath, the predator emerged with a glint of scarlet red among the brown and black. A red centipede, antennae flickering as it skittered onto the wall.

Saint and the Artificer threw themselves up the wall as fast as they could, the deity keeping an eye out for his companion and managing to help her when he could. The dust and dirt Artificer kicked down with her climb managed to slow the insect, but it was still quickly gaining. Saint caught her wrist again, helped her rest for just a moment, then she launched up. They were nearing the ledge.

The Artificer’s claws found naught but loose dirt, and she began to fall. A crack, she slammed into the wall of debris and scrambled for a grip, clawing and scraping.

The centipede caught up and latched one head onto her foot.

Saint barely registered the event before he was swinging down again, the Artificer kicking and snarling. He had to save her, somehow.

He latched his tongue onto a singular scale of the scarlet death. He found himself on the back of the beast, attached onto one of the scales. He scrambled for an idea.

In a moment of either utter genuis or full lack of self-preservation, he simply leapt towards the opposite head and grappled onto it like an angry, rabid eggbug.

Almost in confusion, the head released the wall and began to fall. Saint tumbled off, somehow found himself enough to grapple back to the wall, and started back up towards the Artificer. In the centipede’s confusion, she sunk her claws into’s it’s eyeless head and the other half fell.

The two managed to clamber their way to the top of the wall as the centipede tumbled back to the dirt far below. With a little help, Artificer finally tossed herself onto the ledge and tumbled to safety.

The slugcats caught their breath for a moment, the Artificer haphazardly dragging herself a bit further from the ledge before collapsing in the dirt. Saint stood beside her for a moment, then laid down as well.

“Hellfire…” The Artificer muttered before rolling over. “Of course the- damn centipede would be there…”

Saint chuckled a bit in spite of the circumstances. “With our luck, how could it not…?”

The Artificer sighed. “Shut up…”

They found their bearings for a moment more. Saint found himself wishing she were closer, and was almost a little offended by the wish within the situation.

“… Least we’re closer to the gate, I guess.” The Artificer admitted. “Let’s keep moving.”

The trek was similar to the rest from there, aside from the encounter with the red centipede. Though the air seemed to be chilling as they clambered across the trains, wind stinging past and snowflakes occasionally drifting through the cracked ceilings. The caves were coming to an end.

“We’re almost there.” Arti mentioned, looking back to Saint across a gap between the train cars.

He tilted his head, then hopped the gap as well. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Should be an easy climb once we reach the- chasm thing.” She affirmed.

“… Did you mention a… chasm beforehand?” Saint asked after a moment.

“… I dunno.”

“Hm.” He grunted. “Suppose I’ll prepare for another ascent.”

Prepare, they did. The chill grew stronger still as they trekked, the light growing too. They were nearing the surface. Artificer led them into a series of tunnels, past further spiders and insects. Worm grass showed itself more often among the orange rocks and dirt. Until they met a cavern that meandered upward.

They clawed up the incline and managed further through the tunnel, past some more worm grass and around a sharp bend. They clambered through a tunnel of jagged walls until they finally broke the surface.

The Artificer jumped from the sound of the wind, moving from a muffled whistle to a shrieking howl in an instant. Their senses briefly scattered, the storm like a burst of buckshot.

“Hellfire!” She cursed, raising an arm over her eyes to block the stinging snow. They stood on a ledge within a large, nearly vertical chasm, widening like a fissure with no proper way out in sight. Saint was still half huddled in the tunnel, shrinking back from the chill.

“Why the- was it always this fucken cold?!” The Artificer shouted.

“We’ve- been underground for too long!” He replied back over the storm. “Our senses aren’t as used to the chill as they were!”

His companion grumbled something unintelligible under her breath, likely a curse. Then she started looking around the fissure’s jagged walls.

“Up there!” She yelled, pointing up to a section of rock on the opposite wall. “Echo should be- somewhere near!”

“Arti, that is-!”

“I know it looks like a wall, but it’s there!!” She interrupted. “I fell into it the first time I went down this damn cliff, it’s there!”

Saint huffed and clambered a bit out of the tunnel. He glanced at Arti in a silent question, then looked forward.

He leapt out into the chasm and grappled to the the other side, the cold biting into his skin as he braced on the cold rocks. He turned back the Artificer and managed to motion for her to do the same against the increased wind.

She ran and inelegantly leapt, launching the extra distance and slamming into the wall with a hand wrapping around Saint’s. He nearly fell, but managed to keep his tongue locked on the surface. Artificer found her footing and managed to launch again, finding a more secure hold above him.

She clawed her way against the wind up, Saint doing the same with his tongue as a way of slowly pulling himself up. The chasm was nearly vertical at the side, but not enough to hang over, leaving it difficult to grapple up normally. The chill continued to cut through his fur, though he was managing to keep himself together.

They found a small outcrop, more of a foothold that was just large enough to hold them. Arti placed her claws on the wall again, then slipped. She cursed and gripped her hand tightly to her chest, as if she’d cut it.

“Are you alright?!” Saint asked over the wind.

“Yes, yes!” She yelled back, as if annoyed. “Just- fuck, it’s cold, my hands…”

Saint grimaced in worry. Neither of them were as used to the cold as they could be, but Saint had his fur. Artificer’s defenses were entirely internal, leaving her skin vulnerable to the biting cold.

“How far are we?” Saint asked, hopping to her side on the small ledge and taking her hands in his.

“N-not- too far?” She answered. “Why- the fuck am I shivering?!”

“You aren’t used to the cold.” Saint repeated, stepping close for her to hear his voice. “Be patient. You will find your way around the pain, I know.”

Her gaze flickered away from his.

“Let’s go.” He said firmly, stepping back onto the wall. His fur was white now. “We don’t have much time!”

They kept on, the Artificer swearing each time her hand slipped the stone bit her number fingers. Saint helped her where he could, bracing on the rocks and pulling her up, allowing her a place to launch from. Though each launch seemed to cause her more pain.

Saint hopped up the wall, then looked back yet again to check on his companion. She was still clawing up, slightly shaky but determined. He began to turn away.

A breaking of rock brought his eyes back. She was falling.

He swung down in an instant, stretching his tongue as far as he could and grabbing her hand. Through some miracle or burst of adrenaline, he kept his grip and hauled her into his arms, pulling back up with his tongue. He managed to clamber them onto a ledge and set the Artificer down, though still hugged her tightly.

He held for a moment, as if to confirm he’d actually managed to do that. She did the same, frozen in confusion. She was shivering just slightly, her body fearing the biting cold.

“… W-what?” She asked herself in confusion.

“I’ve got you.” He said quietly. “You’re safe.”

She was quiet for another moment.

“Okay…”

“Ready to keep going?”

“… Y- yeah.”

They kept climbing, clawing and scraping their way up the jagged surface. Saint was now shivering, the storm finally cutting through his fur and turning his color a darkening shade of white. He didn’t know how close they were, but he hoped close enough. Artificer seemed still fazed by the chill, but more determined, perhaps more confident. They clambered and hauled until Saint found a small break in the wall, a sort of cave entrance downward.

“That’s it!” The Artificer yelled, hauling herself up next to Saint as he huddled on the ledge. “Let’s go!”

She grabbed his hand and led them in a slide down the ledge, kicking up rocks and debris as they moved. Saint nearly fell, but managed to keep his grip thanks to her. They hit the ground and Saint fell into her for warmth, an action she seemed to absentmindedly return and allowing his arm over her shoulder. She dragged them forward to a small tunnel.

His senses were beginning to dull from the chill, but he thought he could hear her muttering “please be it” under her breath, teeth chattering just slightly. She was warmer than most things would be, but she clutched both him and her free hand close as if they were frozen. They stumbled down to the tunnel and she pulled them through, crawled for just a moment…

It was almost stunning, the sudden burst of silence.

The churning of time and the echoing of reality, the melding, shimmering ghost floating not far in front of them. Saint nearly fell over, and Artificer tripped and fell forward.

Wind fell away and cold vanished, aside from the remnants on the slugcats skin. Plants dotted the cavern, swaying and distorting in the haunting’s waves.

“Little beasts!” The shimmering called through the waves of space around it. “But not as dim as the rest? No, of course not! After all, they found me.”

Saint found Artificer stumbling away from the echo, fumbling for something as if she’d dropped it. He was surprised to learn she was looking for him, as when she reached his feet she scrambled up and hugged to his side, as if searching for warmth or safety.

“Oh, but these… oh, neither are mere beasts.” The haunting mused, it’s head extending just a touch. “Perhaps I have misjudged. For one, one fears me…”

The Artificer shrunk back just a bit more. The resonations of this echo were unique, an almost imperceptible tapping, clicking, like light rain against a roof. Supplemented by ominous, high pitched rings, harmonized low drones. A foreboding melody of a being that could not escape neither the void nor the land.

Arti placed a claw at her temple. It seems the closeness and suddenness of the echo was taking a toll on her, as it had on Saint. He returned her half-hug and gently sat them down, quietly whispering some comforts to her.

“I am not the one you need fear, great sinner.” The echo reverberated, their voice bouncing off the small cave’s walls. “That is below. Not far, might I add. Why, it seems you were walking right into it, when you stumbled into my crevice. Nonetheless, it swallows all eventually.”

The Artificer seemed to be regaining a bit of composure now. Saint gently hushed her, holding her hand within his. 

“No need to fear, yet all the need. Perhaps I am merely jaded from my… years, weeks, decades, cycles, one of them.” The echo continued to ramble. “Ha! Even time escapes me now… as will all. Wiped from the slate, thrown in the fire. Whether the tenth, or the thousandth to live.”

“To think, I thought myself so important. That I might, that we might be the center of life.” They continued. “But now I see, all in the face of it, of that blackness, it falls away.”

The slugcats watched in a sort of discomforted silence.

“… Still though, I wonder…” They mused. A new tone of thoughtfulness entered their voice. “… That we are truly so small, if we are the master of our fates. Am I not of importance, though I escaped the grasp of time? Is this curse a mark of influence?”

They thought for a moment. Saint tilted his head, curious as to what they meant.

“… I suppose that is for the individual to decide.”

Possibly for the first time, they fully centered their gaze on the two slugcats.

“… Temporary freedom, eternal rest, or unending importance.”

“Perhaps, for you two, it is eternal possibility, or eternal escape.”

They gave a shimmering resonance something like a chuckle.

“I wonder what the little beasts will decide.”