Chapter Text
Ajax is a momma’s boy. Well, Ajax was a momma’s boy. That was, until those three fateful months in the Abyss. To all those that had found him in the forest, he was just a kid who ran away and got lucky, managing to survive for three days in the forests of Snezhnaya filled with whatever archon-forsaken beasts or monsters. The party who found him saw a pair of azure eyes filled with the harsh reality of the world, a rusted dagger in one hand, and a pack of dead wolves under the moonlight. What was even more stranger to them were the fresh scars he had on them- they had already healed, and looked as if they had been there all his life. But they failed to realize the hydro vision in his clenched fist.
They pressed him, looking for more answers. They received nothing but bare and raw silence from the fourteen-year old youth. “You’d think he’d be more talkative after being scared out of his wits”, people whispered about him. No, he had stayed as quiet as a mouse, acting as a mute stranger to his old life. People no longer thought of him as the sweet kid that would help out on a Sunday evening after a long day of work and would pull a prank or two, instead they feared him, wondering when he would snap.
The fear got worse after some rowdy kids tried to bully him for more answers. The people of the sleepy town Morepesok were shaken by the amount of havoc Ajax had managed to create. Broken bones, bleeding noses, and a pack of scared children. The whispering gallery became a campaign. The rumors got louder and bolder. “Ajax did this”,”Ajax did that”, “Did you hear about what happened at the wharf?”. The rumors grew like tumors, and his father made a grand decision. He would enlist his son to the Fatui.
“Get up, son.” His father softly said to the young man under the covers. Ajax sat up and groggily rubbed his eyes awake, seeing that the sun had yet to peek from its covers. It had been several months since the incidents started, and Ajax’s father had struggled with the decision for months. “Are we going ice-fishing?”, he whispered. A shake of his head gave him the answer that he needed. “Pack up some things.”
“Like what?”
“A coat, a flask, whatever.”
Ajax gave a hard stare at his father for a few seconds, and went to gather his things. Why was his dad acting so sketchy today?, he wondered. He slung a bag over his shoulder, put on a good coat and walked out the door with his dad.