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It was funny, really, how quickly he'd gotten used to it.
He had never needed any help. Keeping watch over who came and went between Abyss and the monastery was an important and noble task, he had determined a long time ago, but it was also a relatively easy one. The faces that passed him were familiar; that circumstances forced people to move to and stay in this little forgotten sanctuary meant that the residents were more close-knit than the places he’d lived before. Outsiders sticking together against the world and all that. Plus they had the Ashen Wolves, whose presence and protection was a comfort he never took for granted. With him standing guard at the entrance and Yuri on their side, Abyss was safe.
The Abysskeeper certainly hadn’t needed any… backup.
But backup had been sent anyway. Didn’t matter what he thought. Didn’t matter that he’d been proudly guarding the way into Abyss all by himself for years, trusted by the good folk of their underground town to report all comings and goings to the appropriate people. Trusted to keep Abyss secure. Of course the Church bigwigs had thought he needed backup from above ground. Of course the safety of the monastery couldn’t be solely entrusted to an Abyssian. Nevermind the fact that he’d been doing the job just fine alone. And it was funny how they’d decided, after years of conveniently ignoring all the lost souls that had found a home here, that that was when they cared. When it affected them.
He wasn't still holding onto any bitterness about that. Nope. Not at all.
Abyss had been seeing more visitors since that whole business with Aelfric. The Abysskeeper still felt a pang in his gut whenever that name came to mind during quiet moments in the dim entrance way, when his thoughts began to drift to how things used to be. Quieter, sure. But they’d been content, too — content to keep to themselves and survive on whatever meager goods they could get their hands on. It’s how they’d always been. The Abyssians had resisted their sudden uptick in guests at first, naturally wary of the strangers that seemed to be venturing underground purely out of curiosity (he’d once heard an “Ooh, let’s go look at the sewer people!” completely unironically, and bristled at the memory) and put a strain on their already limited resources. Over time, however, the increased activity had brought with it increased trade as people formed tentative new partnerships, and, carefully, Abyss began to open up. Even the mysterious Professor, who by all accounts was the second coming of the Goddess (albeit a man this time), was regularly stopping by.
And then there had been the Knight of Seiros.
Oh, how he had hated that man, waltzing down here into his domain — his domain! — on the orders of some green-haired ignoramus who clearly didn’t understand that the Abysskeeper had it all under control.
Mr. What Is Your Problem, Man? Mr. Don’t Blame Me! I’m Just Doing My Job!
Mr. It’s Fine, You Can Take a Break, I’ll Cover. Mr. Hey, Are You OK? Mr. You Looked Cold, So I Brought You a Hot Tea. Mr. Always There When I Turn Around.
Mr. Backup.
Shit.
The Abysskeeper lightly drummed his fingers against the side of the empty tankard in front of him. It was funny how quickly he’d gotten used to it. When things had eventually calmed down up top the whole reason for him supposedly needing backup in the first place ebbed away. Boredom certainly had been a luxury; a luxury that gave enough time for their whole Trust Me, I Didn’t Ask For This Either thing and all its antagonistic little jabs to turn into something that was actually quite pleasant. Something comfortable.
He hadn’t known it was possible to just exist quietly with someone and not need to fill the silence. It had surprised him that he could feel like that around another person. Another man, even. It had been… well, nice. It had been really nice.
Then Garreg Mach had been attacked, and Mr. Backup had left to join the fight with the other knights.
He had left before — several times, actually — but he had always come back. At first it was some stupid knightly nonsense he vanished for. Official duties, blah blah blah. He’d return with some boring story about whatever minor kerfuffle they’d been sent to quell with some of the kids from the Officers Academy — the Abysskeeper hadn’t been interested enough at the time to remember details. But then Mr. Backup had started returning with little links to the world above ground that increasingly seemed more like thoughtful gifts: a book for him to read during breaks, if he wanted to, or a new tea. One time it was a whole hot meal expertly smuggled out of the monastery dining hall without spilling a single drop of gravy — the Abysskeeper still wasn’t sure how he’d managed that one. Another time it was a beautiful new dagger that Mr. Backup had claimed was just an extra he had no more use for, but the fact that both the blade and the hilt were entirely lacking in any sort of wear hadn’t escaped the Abysskeeper. He’d kept his suspicions to himself about that one, though. No need to make it weird.
But Garreg Mach had fallen five years ago, and Mr. Backup hadn’t returned.
The Abysskeeper wished he’d paid more attention to those stupid knight stories after all. He found himself missing the sound of that voice next to him.
Other knights had come back. Once the Professor had inexplicably reappeared at the monastery, more had been trickling in. The Abysskeeper had hurriedly scanned every face in every crowd that ventured back down to Abyss; granted, those crowds had been small, just little pockets of tired people that had heard they could escape the bleakness of the battle-scarred monastery for a few hours down below, lose themselves over a few sloshing tankards of ale and tales of camaraderie at the Wilting Rose Inn. The Abysskeeper’s hope faded a little more with each new, non-Mr. Backup face that arrived.
I just hope he's safe.
Yuri had noticed. The Abysskeeper shouldn’t have been surprised — for as much as he thought he was the most perceptive, most keen-eyed person around, Yuri put him to shame. That guy noticed everything.
“You miss him, yeah?” he’d said to the Abysskeeper a few days ago, catching his eye. The Ashen Wolves had returned from another trip to the monastery and their leader had paused, studying the Abysskeeper’s face as he let his friends walk on without him.
“I don’t miss anyone,” the Abysskeeper had responded immediately, trying his best to not sound flustered. “I see every single face that comes in and every single face that goes out. You can count on me.”
Yuri had smiled softly. If he’d caught the embarrassment in the Abysskeeper’s response, he didn’t show it. “You know exactly what I mean, friend.”
The Abysskeeper had let his shoulders fall at that. Nothing escaped the leader of the Ashen Wolves.
“Yeah,” he’d admitted. “Yeah, I do miss him.” Then he’d fiddled with the metal plate on one of his gloves, suddenly extremely aware of his own hands, and avoided meeting Yuri’s gaze. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I could’ve said the same about you,” Yuri had chuckled. The sound was a welcome bit of brightness among the flickering shadows of the hallway. “Things change, though. And people change, too. I know how hard it can be to trust again.”
He’d placed a hand on the Abysskeeper’s arm then, and though Yuri didn’t force him to meet his eyes, he glanced up anyway. The Abysskeeper had felt his anxiety fall away at that gentle smile. Just a little.
“I'm sure he’ll be back. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye out, too. Don’t be afraid to take a break once in a while.”
A gentle nudge at his elbow startled him back to the present moment enough to knock over his empty tankard. For a split second he thought it might have been Yuri and his knowing smile, having read his thoughts and appeared out of thin air with good news, but it was just the cat that had taken to hanging around inside the Wilting Rose to sneak scraps of unguarded meat from drunk patrons. Abyss had plenty of cats and even a couple of dogs running around, but this one had determined that it belonged to the Wilting Rose, and the Wilting Rose had eventually agreed: the regulars had taken such a shining to it they had stopped shooing it away a long time ago. Any creature that willingly chose to live among them was probably some kind of outsider too, and should therefore be treated with respect. Abyss was a family, human and otherwise.
“Prrrrt?” the cat chirped, bumping its head against his arm a second time. The Abysskeeper’s face softened as he placed a gloved hand on its head.
“Yep, still here,” he admitted, using a single finger to scratch behind one of its ears. The cat leaned into his touch. “Still waiting.”
He’d risked a break on Yuri’s insistence — it seemed the Professor was visiting again, and the two of them had assured him they’d keep his spot warm — but the tavern was blessedly close enough to the entrance of Abyss that he’d be able to dash out there at a moment’s notice. When he’d said that, though, Yuri had just given him a wink and sent him on his way.
The Abysskeeper turned his tankard back to a more acceptable orientation with his free hand and considered a second pint, but just as quickly decided he shouldn’t dull his senses any further. His role was out there, Abyss keeping, a Very Important and Noble position he didn’t want to foist onto anyone else even if they’d offered. It was his responsibility. He’d wasted enough time sitting here as it was.
He was swinging his legs over the bench and getting up to leave when an armored figure appeared in the doorway, looked in his direction and took off their unmistakably familiar helmet.
“Ah... Sorry to have kept you waiting. You wouldn’t believe what’s been going on.”
The Abysskeeper sat back down and gestured to his empty tankard, unspoken code for Your round, buddy. “Hey, you. About damn time.”