Chapter Text
“I never asked,” Ilya started, breaking Shane from his concentration. He had taken the gold charm off the chain to do some routine maintenance for his weapons, and had been looking at the point of his lancea when Ilya interrupted. “What are they made of?” He reached over the back of the couch to tap the hilt.
“Imperial gold,” Shane answered, lightly swatting Ilya's hand away with the polishing cloth. He was sitting on the couch with the other tools on the table in front of him, figuring it was enough space to work.
“Ahhh,” Ilya pouted, but came around and flopped down next to Shane to watch him, “what is that?”
“Well,” Shane paused, brow slightly furrowing. To be honest, he didn't exactly know, but he wouldn't tell Ilya that. When Victoria appeared to him to hand him the laurel, she told him what the weapon was made of, as a warning to be careful using it. It could hurt mortals and monsters, so Shane made sure to be extra cautious whenever he used it, well, more than he already had been.
“Mmn?” Ilya inched a hand closer, but Shane just shot him a look.
“It's a metal that can be used to kill monsters. And people.” He made sure to emphasize the last part, spotting the glint in Ilya's eyes.
“Oh, you wound me. Calling me a monster! How impolite, Hollander.” Ilya draped an arm over his face.
“Asshole,” Shane said fondly, changing the lancea back into charm form. He stood up and walked behind the couch, tossing the charm up.
“Trying to get the sword?” Ilya asked, peeking over.
“Yeah,” Shane let out a sigh when the lancea appeared again. He put it back into charm form and tossed it up again, groaning when the second time also had the lancea appear.
“Hmm, unlucky.” Ilya hummed, sitting fully up on the couch and putting his hands on the back of the couch, resting his head on them.
“Thanks for pointing that out,” Shane complained halfheartedly, turning the weapon into charm form again.
“Third time?” Ilya offered, only to laugh when it was the same weapon again.
“Is there something wrong with you?” Shane asked, looking at the charm incredulously after he turned it back again. Three times in a row, he thought, exasperated.
“Maybe it thinks you aren't good enough with the sword. Wants you to be better with the spear.” Ilya teased, looking with interest at the charm.
“It's like it wants to be chipped next time I use it,” Shane muttered to himself, pursing his lips. He sighed and tossed the charm in the air again.
“Finally!” Ilya cheered, looking with interest at the spatha as Shane returned to the couch.
“Gods,” Shane shook his head, “that was what did it?”
“Perhaps it can hear you. Got worried about breaking the next time you fling it at some snake woman.” Ilya studied the blade as Shane inspected the handle.
“Maybe? Who knows with these types of things.” Shane noted the bottom of the leather beginning to fray, but nothing major.
“Do you,” Ilya stopped looking at the sword and looked up and raised an eyebrow, “have other… magical items?” Shane nodded his head, distracted by the scratches on the blade.
“It's at the bottom of my bag, during the season. It's at the bottom of the closet now, though. Got it from her after the first time we beat you in Boston.” Shane didn't look away from his inspection, but pointed a finger in the direction of their bedroom. “Left side.”
Shane sensed Ilya leave to head in that direction, but didn't realize when he returned until he felt something get placed into his head. “What the fuck?” He asked, whipping his head up to look at Ilya.
“Looks good on you,” Ilya said, shrugging his shoulders and sitting back down on the couch, “almost makes you blend into the forest.”
“If only. At least then, it’d actually be useful.” Shane rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back to his weapon.
“Well, what does it do then?” Ilya asked, lightly touching the laurel leaves and making sure his investigation didn’t bother Shane.
“It can be used to inspire people to win and tilt the balance in favor of the user, slightly. The way she put it when she gave it to me, it was meant to be used during war, and the idea of using it to win at a game never sat right with me.” Shane narrowed his eyes as he spotted a section of the weapon that seemed like it could become an issue.
“You mean it would make Pike a 13th line player instead of 15th? And by she… You mean your godly parent?” Ilya asked, losing interest in the laurel in favor of watching Shane work.
“Shut up, asshole,” Shane retorted, fondly, “and yeah. The only time I’ve seen her, let alone talked to her.”
“Ah,” Ilya returned to the couch, leaning in close to Shane.
“Would you…” Shane paused his work, lifting his head up to look at Ilya, “I have a favor I could call in from her, if you, uh,” he slightly turned his head away and looked down, “if you’d like a weapon of your own. After all, if you can see the monsters, then you’re in danger too, so-!”
Ilya cut his rambling off by cupping his face with his hands. “Sweetheart,” he began, “if it would make you feel better, you can ask for something. As long as I’m with you, I’m perfectly safe.”
“Well…” Shane murmured, “It would be good insurance when you’re not with me. Just in case something happens…”
“Whatever makes you feel better,” Ilya repeated.
“Okay. I guess I’ll, pray, or something.” Shane tried to remember if there was a specific way Victoria wanted to be contacted, planning to do it that very night.
“Just make sure it’s a big weapon, yes? Only the best for the best player in the league.” Ilya winked, and Shane just laughed and shook his head.