Chapter Text
Impress Me, In Every Way
“Impressive work,” The fuzziest of the duo complimented, studying the filled shelter they had assigned as storage earlier the day with evasive eyes. “Although…”
Artificer tensed, a tuft of her leg fur getting unexpectedly tangled on a piece of sharpnel, and with her mouth occupied, carrying the long, dead body of a recently killed centipede, she had no way of freeing herself.
She, herself, alone, had no way, that is.
Before she noticed, Saint had begun working on the unmaking of her imprisonment; having to dodge the chitin of the carcass while doing so.
“Although what?” She questioned, letting their newly caught piece of food fall down.
“I stand by my previous point,” Saint muttered, scratching an itchy spot around his neck, then resuming his work on getting her free. “We could have journeyed farther today.”
Artificer would have agreed with him, if she had not promised to be back as soon as possible to watch Monk and Spearmaster's performance.
Gone were the times she would immediately disregard his company due to doubts of his capabilities. He had proven himself more than enough.
The green slugcat finished with his work, patting her fur where the piece of metal had previously gotten stuck.
“Additionally, my enjoyment of this place's smell and looks is… null,” Saint groaned so calmly she thought he was merely thinking out loud, much to her amusement.
“Why come then?” Teased the burgundy slugcat, catching her breath after such a long-haul pulling the large insect's body. “You should be used to it.”
He raised one eyebrow, eyes still closed.
“Oh, why come, why come…” He mischievously trailed, momentarily giving her some seconds to piece the puzzle together; a disguised insult to her intelligence. “Exactly, Artificer, that ‘why’ would be you. Congratulations.”
Artificer did not mind his little jabs at her shortcomings, after all; it was never ill-intended.
And the whiplash of his tone, contrasted to his words, were nothing short than whimsical.
And frankly, after much rumination, she had concluded that he might be wise, but Saint was certainly no smarter than her.
She hoped he would not go on a metaphorical tangent as to why she was the reason his devotion had shifted; it was adorable, but she knew he would repeatedly do it out of absolutely nowhere to annoy her.
He had revealed that information himself.
“Artificer,” He whispered, the ever expanding grin speaking volumes that he was, indeed, planning a monologue.
“Shush, now,” The Artificer quickly responded, spinning one of her claws and using it to stop his lips from freeing any more words. “Use that big dome you call a head and tell a way to get all this back,”
The Industrial Complex was not that far from the colony, so Artificer was not at all worried from the length and repetition of her journeys.
If she was right, she alone could take everything back in five hauls, and the chances of her returning to the colony and coming back to where she was alone were almost zero.
Survivor, the moment she was told where the rest of the food was and that Artificer could use another paw, would absolutely frolic here and carry most of it back.
Instead, Artificer's question was mostly aimed at seeing Saint come up with a solution of his own.
An immediate payback of sorts to him challenging her knowledge seconds ago.
Saint hummed, positioning his tail underneath his body and clasping his paws together, the relaxed body language telling her he would be taking his sweet time to answer her.
Of course he would, somehow, find a way to deflect her retaliation.
She suppressed herself from making any noise, she was annoyed at all the stalling, but she could not feign disinterest in what type of exquisite plan he would come up with.
Watching him humming to himself, concocting a timeline of steps for them to follow, she had to ask herself: Why him?
Perhaps it had to do with his patience contrasting her former temperamental outbursts; how it anchored her to reality.
Maybe it could be a selfish reason, such as how much entertainment she could get from his little monologues and unexplainable actions.
But deep down, she knew it went beyond all that, at the same time it encompassed everything she just considerated.
Saint had never diluted his words to make her feel better when she was in her worse.
Instead, he confronted her actions outright; he had been the only beacon in her life to truly make her reconsider her former way of living.
He was the slugcat that brought her back to reality. He woke her up.
“It is not them.” Saint said with complete serenity. “Artificer, cease your excuses, you know deep down you aren't motivated by your children anymore.”
She felt as if her whole spirit had been ripped away from her body; the sudden mention of her treasured, lost pups; conjoined with the theory passed as fact.
“You are stuck in a cycle of rage; one that transcends time,” The Saint spoke to the shocked Artificer. “One that transcends space… and yet,”
He sighed.
“You are special. Even in multiple instances I have met of you, you are always furious,” He added, ready to finally finish his other statement. “And yet, you are always trying to repent. No matter how cruel your actions are. Or how you have been treated. You try to be better.”
Artificer picked up the spear she had used early, her ears rang and her body twitched.
Her erratic mood had finally settled on feeling something without any wavering: Apathy.
“Regardless of the many opportunities I have faced, no matter the number of attempts, I could never lead or force you into ascension.”
The Saint stopped, watching her raise the spear to point directly at his heart.
“But this is the first time I get the chance to offer you this,” The furry slugcat muttered calmly, Artificer felt the urge to look at him.
He had one paw extended towards her, his expression said everything his words could not convey.
He was offering her company. It was the only offer she would never have the heart to refuse.
Someone, who diligently managed to make herself question her ways, putting himself in a position to face what she planned to undertake.
In a position to accompany her, and try bringing her the key to the final lock chaining her heart.
Saint sighed, he shrugged and looked at her with absentminded eyes, bringing her back to the present situation.
Her trip down memory lane had completely desaturared her mischievous intentions in hearing his plans.
“Currently, I have zero answers as to how we can bring these home,” He said, looking at the stocked shelter in defeat.
Was that a wink? Was he toying with her?!
“Saint. Spill it out, what is your plan, you are not fooling me,”
“I have no plans.” Claimed the Saint, his tongue appearing for one second, only cementing that he was, once again,
“You are a liar.”
“I am not a liar,” The fuzzy slugcat said defiantly, so much so, Artificer began worrying about how absurd his plan must be for him to not tell her after the second demand.
“Liar,” She repeated. Might as well indulge in the whimsical display of ignorance by humoring him.
“Quite not,”
“Lies and lies. What is it, you want to fly us back home?”
Saint went silent immediately, perhaps she had gotten it right first try.
“Say it.”
“Maybe,” He answered sheepishly. “But I would not be the one flying,” He complemented, an awkward cough following right after.
‘Wha-’ Her eyes widened; flabbergasted at one of his ideas for the first time in ages. ‘What?!’
“You want me to fly us and the food there?!” Artificer shivered at the thought of traveling all that distance using her explosion-concussive abilites. “Saint, if you wanted to eat charcoal for dinner you could have told me!”
Saint coughed, putting an arm in front of his snout and quietly adding a whispery: “Do it,”
She raised a brow, she was at the edge of humoring him and doing so, but she could never do that considering the supplies were not just gathered for their consumption.
Artificer frowned, entering the shelter and rummaging the claustrophobic cube in search of the spear she had used to stake several kernels and batflies together.
She has to agree with Saint, being among that amount of dead prey did feel unpleasant; regardless of her past experiences with corpses.
Perhaps it had more to do with the dampness inside the isolated location rather than the food itself.
After all, everything was not only still edible but also completely fresh. (As per Monk's request)
When had she started to distance herself from inflicting pain on other creatures? Was it Saint’s doing again?
She kept pushing away dead flora and fauna alike until she found the spear.
‘No…really, when was it again?'
“You tell me my objectives are not justified?! If all of them try killing me without thinking, then why can't I kill them all without thinking?!”
“Unjudged violence is the herald to tainted justice, you should know that better than any,” Saint tiredly spoke, pointing at her. “You do, know that, better than anyone.”
“Stop trying to tell me what I know!” She screamed, taking the spear off the body of a Scavenger. “Don't you see I am in danger?!”
Saint observed her, the golden drone she called Sofanthiel twirled around her, projecting a sigil that pointed towards her spear.
He shook his head
“Artificer. You are not in danger,” He pointed at the symbol’s image. “You are the danger. Not only to them, but yourself.”
Artificer snarled, bitting the spear and spreading the volatility of her saliva until the metal was painted red.
“How does that matter? I can take care of them. And me!”
“It might not matter now. Although the very moment you care for someone else, their life will be as endangered as yours. Do you want that?”
“What if I never care?” She challenged, utterly confident in her ability to remain distant, even if it meant not getting the help offered by Saint anymore.
If it meant he could get off this safely.
“Then, all that will change is the fact you will never know the names of those killed in your name.”
And that single string was enough.
She had never cogitated that someone simply being seen with her, was sufficient to justify their life being taken away.
Just how her witnessing Scavengers being near the incident that took her slugpup away, was enough to cause her rampage.
She trembled, spear falling off her ragged claws.
“You take this,” Artificer said, back to the present as she horizontally flung the meal-filled spear to Saint, making sure it would never, ever hit its needly head against him.
Saint extended both paws and picked it, recoiling as he touched the wing of a batfly.
“Sorry,” She yelled, catching a bunch of blue fruits and biting a section off the centipede. “You want me to get those batflies off?”
Saint looked at the metal pole, then back at her, then he nodded.
Doing as she was requested, Artificer looked at Saint happily holding the spear, as if he was trying to imitate her.
Artificer chuckled at the exaggerated pose, meanwhile Saint’s paws kept letting the spear slide lower and lower, until he lost grip and it fell down.
“You have to admit, I managed to get the attitude perfectly,” He chirped, proud of his supposedly good job at copying her.
Artificer plucked each and every kernel off the spear, and threw them to Saint, some of them got caught in his volumous fur, some others hitting his nose.
“You carrying them with no spear, that is for making fun of me,” She said, flicking his left ear with a paw.
The Saint stood in place, watching the shelter close, not fully registering the payback from his partner.
“You better be in good shape too, we don't know how many journeys we are carrying today, fuzzball,” She winked, looking back at him and jumping away, explosively.
“Artificer!” The Saint yelled, she could even hear his quiet tip taps following her from below. “Arti!”
She looked back at him, still trying to keep all the kernels within his grasp; his attempts at making a fierce face fell flat whenever his eyes saw her.
He impressed her in every way, whether it refered to his wisdom, courage, spontaneity… everything
She impressed him, in every way.
She did not need to search her subconscious for the memory that made that feeling of his obvious.
This one was always in the forefront of everything.
She looked at the entrance to the sea of nothingness, the place she would finally be able to let go of everything that made her… her.
After so long, after such lengths traveled, she had reached the final destination.
“Shall we?” Saint asked, lending her a paw to guide her through the ancient constructs.
She did not answer, much to his worry.
“Artificer? Something ails your mind?”
“Saint. Have you ever felt anger?”
She could tell the green slugcat was obviously shocked by the sudden question.
“I do think I have. Why is that?”
“Would you mind feeling it once more?” The Artificer asked, her ears low and arms tense. “Because, I don't think I want to ascend right now.”
Saint took an apprehensive step back, his eyes flew open to gaze at her; study her feelings.
“Why?” The Saint stuttered.
She returned his gaze; but for once the roles had been reversed, her expression now held nothing but mellow relaxation.
“I kinda want to live,” She smiled. “You know. Live, live. Enjoy life out here for a while,”
Artificer closed her eyes, expecting a scolding session to ensue, but what she received was a warm hug from Saint.
They stayed in silence.
“Acceptance. A different kind,” The green slugcat mentioned, intensifying the strength of his embrace. “Artificer. You are something else.”
She did not understand, she could not comprehend how a simple proposal not to carry on his plan to better herself could elicit such response.
She could feel moisture where his face was.
“Are you crying?”
He chuckled, hiding himself even more among her fur. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I- Don't know,” He responded. “Maybe I just- I don't know,” He shook his head, letting go from the unrequited hug and cleaning the sadness from his eyes.
“Have you ever felt sadness?” She asked. He nodded.
“Yes. But not now,” He smiled, some tears still tainting his fur with their damp trails.
She really did not understand; how could that make him happy? Was he not a herald of ascension? Should her refusal not make him disappointed?
Why did he have that twitchy smile? Why did it seem hard for him to keep it up, and yet seem so genuine nonetheless?!
“You impress me, because even in the moment you are given your final answer, the one I have witnessed all of your other selves fighting for so much, for so long, you refuse it.”
She was taken aback, was that criticism, or a compliment?
“You refuse it, because you finally learned acceptance, and in that acceptance, you found a wish to not end your outgrown suffering at it, but instead, fight on and find happiness somewhere else.”
He shook his head, that contempt grin never leaving his expression.
“You are special; you were saved not by me, but yourself. And now, you showed me that even I can be saved, and that amidst my mission, I can also find joy.”
Artificer blinked.
“Thank you, Artificer.”
She could not answer; she had no words that could be articulated in a way that could even go near to what she felt.
“Maybe, this was as much of my journey as it was yours.”
So instead, Artificer did what she should have done earlier, she got next to him and responded with the same embrace he gave her.
Saint’s fur bristled, but the shock slowly melted into comfort as he also wrapped his arms around her.
“You stay because you feel it's right? Or because you feel forced to?”
“Neither.”
“Then why?”
“It should be obvious.”
“Well, it is not,”
“I like this, Artificer.”
“The hug? The warmth?”
“You.”
She pulled him closer, Artificer did not cry, she did not weep, but she wanted to… a true whole lot.
She closed her eyes, breathing in and out calmly, letting Saint be warmed by her.
Or maybe she was the one being warmed; despite never feeling cold.
And following their silent exchange of affection, the rest was history, a long, fulfilling history that was yet to be concluded.
A history she would never forget a single detail, from the moment they escaped the subterranean tracks together, to their escapades communing with echoes.
To the time a noodlefly tried attack her and she used grabbed its needle to use as a spear to climb a particularly difficult slope at the outskirts, all whilst Saint laughed while flying.
The sparse arguments that proved their relationship was real.
Their journeys into the unknown, in search of surviving Iterators and more pieces of knowledge for Saint's large repertoire of wisdom.
To the fateful day she found a duo of slugpups playing outside a large tree, hitting her head with a pearl, where two other adult slugcats ran out to apologize for their misbehavior.
The day both of them had been asked to join a colony; the moment her life came full circle and she was back to relieve the happy days of her younger self.
In a colony, protected… protecting.
“Surv!” Artificer called from above, landing down near the center of the colony, blue fruits held by each paw. “Got you a mission-”
Her eyes caught sight of a bunch of marking on the ground and Monk observing the silhouette of herself engraved on the earth.
‘Oh no! I lost their practice!’
“Artificer! Monk and Spearmaster-” She burst out laughing, holding her drone, Sofanthiel, and handing it to her. “Please tell me you remember how to make this thing show the images!”
Saint arrived, a slight frown on his head as he dropped a bunch of kernels on the ground.
“I don't, but the smart one can,” She pointed to her beloved, exhausted partner, knowing very well she was the only one who could access the drone's storage.
“I quite literally can not.”
“Liar.”
“Artificer, not again.”
“Lies.”
All the colony slugcats were resting around a small fireplace Artificer had built with the help of Spearmaster.
Saint was playing with Survivor's adopted pups; meanwhile Survivor herself was sorting all the newly brought food into different piles.
After watching Monk and Spearmaster's hiccup of a performance and teaching the pale slugcat how to actually mess with the drone's more obscure functions, Artificer laid down, watching the cloudy skies.
“You know,” Survivor stopped her work to join her ally. “I wonder how Moon is.”
Spearmaster's ears perked up, meanwhile Monk responded with a meek ‘Me too,’
“She must be okay, though,” Survivor concluded, sighing. “I hope. Sometimes I also hope my sista’ can get the hang of her hobbies.”
“Why so?” Saint asked, the reddish slugpup climbing his fur and pulling one ear gently.
“Not sure; just think some music would be nice now,” She answered, looking at Monk. “Stop the dilly dally and go train! Them’ notes won't play themselves.”
Monk chuckled, and shrugged.
Before Artificer could say anything, Sofanthiel began making noises, wildly wisping around her until she caught it, confused.
Its lights blinked, and a small quantity of white noise began playing.
“What's up now?” She asked, tapping the red lens.
I understand, a little voice. Speaking words.
But I would rather be free.
Free to journey.
The drone sang, a gentle melody following the voice being spoken through the mechanical object.
Hearing another's voice through something else triggered a nauseous expression from Spearmaster, Monk promptly calmed him down.
“Unusual,” Saint pointed out. “Has Sofanthiel ever spoken another creature’s words?”
Still entranced by the calm melody, Artificer took a few long seconds to answer.
“Never.” Answered the slugcat, curious by the event. “I think it was because Survivor said something about music.”
“Following directives?”
“Most likely,” She shrugged, laying down again, now accompanied by serene melody. “Full of secrets these old age stuff.”
Beyond this land.
Searching for a little light.
Again…
Monk brought her partner to sit down alongside them, still making sure he could relax.
“Spears thought it was an iterator,” She said, aiming a comforting smile to the purple mouthless slugcat. “No lie, that caught me off guard as well.”
And again.
Free.
To find me.
The melody continued pushing the silence away, until they all curled to rest; the colony showing nothing but gratitude to the coziness the drone brought them.