Work Text:
It had been the last straw for Ramattra. The monastery was no longer a place that held the same hope for peace as before. Despite patience being one of the main pillars of The Shambali's teachings (and arguably the most important), he no longer had it in him to even exhibit the predisposition of a patient countenance.
And so, he was packing away his things within his residence in the temple. Not that it was much - personal possessions weren't of any use in the temple when all you did was reflect, learn and teach. And what was there to say of his fellow brethren? His connection to the other monks had slightly soured when he had spoken up against Tekhartha Mondatta; all Ramattra was ever told was to be patient, that peace would soon be rewarded in time with patience. Yet, patience was no longer something that could be extended to humans when they could not return that same sentiment to omnics. These 'philosophical differences', as he had called it, were the realisations that the temple no longer had anything to offer him.
Thus, he had to leave. How many more omnics will be tortured at the hands of humans? How many omnics will be thrown away, treated as expendable trash? Nothing good has ever come out of patiently waiting for peace between the two species, and he had seen examples of this time and time again. The Omnic Crisis, the village revolt, the fates of discarded omnics... He needed to take action himself.
Though, he had one connection he was struggling to sever - if sever at all. Ramattra hadn't yet told Zenyatta about his plans to depart. He was his brother, someone he was closest with. After all, it had been three years since they've known each other. Since Ramattra had found Zenyatta among the ruins. He offered him a better future in the temple, and promised him that he would find his purpose here; he imparted his wisdom upon him. But what would he think if he knew of his departure? From another perspective, it would seem hypocritical to promise something greater to someone, only to abandon the very notion themselves.
Deep down however, he knew Zenyatta wasn't like that. Tekhartha Zenyatta was different from the other brothers in the temple. It seemed like he had figured everything out, but even so he was still trying to find himself. He had found purpose, but that purpose was pursuing the very meaning of what purpose was. Ramattra saw it in his eyes the moment they met; Zenyatta was someone who had a promising destiny. When they talked, there was always warmth in the conversations they held. When they lied underneath the cosmic sheet of stars at night, they shared their aspirations and dreams so vividly that they felt that the future lied just beyond their grasps. Ramattra longed to stay at his side for as long as he could. Though, the time had come. He had to let go.
"Brother." Ramattra stopped in his tracks. The same voice he was all too familiar with. “I sense a restlessness within you. Do you perhaps wish to speak with me?”
Ramattra turned to him, guilt welling up inside him. He was floating besides the doorway, waiting for a response as the silence ensued. Of course, Zenyatta had seen through him once again. They shared their troubles between each other the most and exchanged their inner turmoils. They relied on each other when they couldn’t quite rely on the others. So it wasn’t a surprise, but Ramattra was conflicted.
“I suppose that you won’t let me go until I give you answers.” He confirmed. Zenyatta nodded, the silence growing thicker. Ramattra simply sighed and beckoned him over. “I am removing myself from The Shambali. The differences between us have grown too great, and I’ve grown tired. Our people are slaughtered every day, and we have become too idle. Our patience is ignorance and I cannot bear it any longer.”
“…I fear you may be right. But to lose patience is to lose the war,” Zenyatta said, the orb of harmony swivelling round his body and hovering comfortably above the palm of his right hand. “Paving the way for omnics may be as simple as maintaining focus and patience, with time.”
Ramattra shook his head and turned away from his companion. These were the very lessons that he kept telling himself, reassuring his mind that someday they’ll be free. “Zenyatta, hundreds of omnics around the world are being killed at the minute. There are thousands of omnics being stepped on and eradicated, to fuel the dreams of humans! We have the freedom to dream, it is our privilege in this sacred ground. But what about those who live in fear everyday? Those that no longer have the hope to dream?”
“Then we give them that hope. Tekhartha Mondatta is their icon of hope and their beacon of light, which is why we need to become that same icon for more people, omnic or human,” Zenyatta began. “You've achieved great things in the monastery, Ramattra. When you first found me, my memory was blurry. I was a wanderer with no purpose and nothing to my existence.”
"But you were always worth the world, brother. You always had a purpose and you didn’t need me to tell you that. You simply needed some guidance.”
“Yes, your guidance. You are the reason I am able to dream of a better future, or dream at all. You are the reason I have found my purpose in this bleak life. And I believe that you can do so much more here.”
Ramattra would’ve felt proud of that statement alone, but he would never forget that dreadful day. It was the day that humans in the village had decided to revolt. A few days before, there were increasing stories of omnics attacking humans. Overwatch was losing their footing in the diplomacy between the two species. Thus, the humans were becoming more anxious and threatened by the existence of omnics having free will. Displays of thought and emotion were being punished and the omnics could do nothing but try to avoid this grim fate. In turn, the Shambali Monastery almost became a hunting ground overnight. Lights flickered as the sparks of broken parts spilled across the floor. Parts were ripped from various robots to be stacked in a horrendously large pile, combusting and becoming an intense blaze. Many of his brothers died that day.
It was a blur for Ramattra, but he remembered one moment with clarity. He was besides Zenyatta, knocked to their knees and forced on the ground. Ramattra only wanted to defend himself; he was a ravager, those humans would so easily have died at his hands. He was made for murder. On impulse, he pulled away and fought back, knocking unconscious two of the humans around him. He only saw red, something that had reverted him to his old ways as a machine made for violence. And it almost cost Zenyatta his life, as the humans began to panic and go on to attack even more omnics. Had Mondatta not stopped the riots in time, Zenyatta would have died for naught. He himself would have died much quicker.
“No. I cannot, brother. You almost died, victim to my recklessness. The village faced no repercussions and we lost many.” Ramattra had become lost in thought. The moment was so cruelly etched in his mind.
Zenyatta placed a hand on Ramattra’s. “All in the past is forgiven. Your inner turmoils will only eat away at you if you let it fester. And as your friend, I cannot let that happen. If I always lived in fear in the face of death, I will not be able to find peace within myself, let alone in others.”
Ramattra thought it over. Zenyatta truly understood him, and was the perfect voice of reason. But the advice had felt directed to something beyond him. Perhaps Zenyatta was saying surface level advice, as if he didn’t want him to leave. Ramattra shook it off, and placed a hand on Zenyatta’s shoulder. Despite their inabilities to display any expressions, it was always easy for them to see when a level of uncertainty had emerged on their faces.
“If you died… I would never receive your forgiveness in the first place. Just like many other omnics, your death would have little to no significance. I… I would never see you again.” Ramattra's grip had become tighter. Any confirmation, any validation. That was all that he seeked from the person dearest to him. “You know all this very well, don’t you? That we need to fight for ourselves and those in need of aid. So, why hesitate to let me go?”
“Because I will miss you when you’re gone, Ramattra.” Zenyatta sighed. He took Ramattra's hand off of his shoulder, lowering it gently. "But, you must indeed forge your own path to follow."
“Then perhaps you should join me. The obligation of peace seeking was placed in the hands of the subjugated; The oppressors will never listen in these conditions. Won’t you accompany me in our fight?” The desperation was rising in his tone, but Ramattra had no longer cared. Zenyatta shook his head immediately. Ramattra felt a strange tug at his heart and it was painful, but there was surely a valid reason as to why his brother would refuse. Why not fight together? They could stay by each others side and help protect those who struggle to fend for themselves. Where The Shambali had failed, they would succeed. "...Why?"
“…Brother, the path you are likely to pursue will be one of loneliness, regret and suffering. You may face your destruction, with no one left to support you. But I cannot interfere in that fate you hold onto so tightly. It is beyond me.”
Ramattra slammed his fist onto the wooden desk besides them, splitting it down the middle and splintering into pieces. That isn’t what he wanted to hear. He knew his path would be treacherous, but why couldn’t Zenyatta see that this was necessary risk? “Mondatta’s lessons shall one day betray you, and result in nothing but ruination for our people! Do you believe that we should sooner die under his teachings than fend for ourselves?”
“Our coexistence should not come from bloodied hands. The crisis has shown us the outcome of such a time.” Zenyatta had finally put his feet on the floor. It was a rare occasion to see him stand and those who were close enough to him (the odd one or two other monks, including Mondatta) knew that it meant he’d lost focus. Hence Ramattra’s shock when he notices, paralysed at the thought. “…’One day we’ll be able to look to the stars, with fear no longer a forethought.’”
Ramattra gazed into Zenyatta’s endless eyes. It wasn’t fair, he thought to himself, that he could use my own words against me. Those words were ones of pure rambling, initially held as childish thoughts he had expressed to Zenyatta during insightful nights. But his brother had made it seem so much more impactful than he had ever hoped it came across.
He pulled Zenyatta into a hug. He detested human actions but gave it to humans for being able to so easily express emotions through contact. Zenyatta, taken aback, simply relished in the affection, placing his arms around Ramattra. The silence was filled with thousands of unspoken words and the affirmation that they had come to a true, mutual stance.
Zenyatta pulled away, albeit reluctantly. “Ramattra, my friend. I wish you a safe journey. I pray to The Iris that you will be fruitful in your endeavours.”
“…I’m afraid this will be one of the last interactions we will have for a long time.” Ramattra picked up his belongings, slinging it across his shoulder.
“Should we ever cross paths in the future, we’ll be entirely different people than we are now. Though that does not mean I’ll no longer cherish you and our relationship.” Zenyatta began floating once more, the orbs of harmony slightly more dim than usual.
Ramattra laughed heartily. “I expect nothing less from Tekhartha Zenyatta! I will ensure we see each other again, and return the sentiment back to you, my dearest friend.”
Zenyatta watched as Ramattra trudged on, his back becoming smaller and smaller in the distance as he departed. Zenyatta hoped he would turn around, even just once, but the thought of it felt harsh. He never turned around, as his figure disappeared into the village.
The world will be cruel and unforgiving to him, Zenyatta knew this. There will be those who will treat him with disdain, and try to tear him apart. But Ramattra was a defender first. There will be thousands of omnics he will protect, and many more that get to dream because of him. That was all that Zenyatta needed to feel content.