Chapter Text
"Welcome back to the 90th installment of the Sweet Blessings podcast, your prime source of on-the-go sermons. I'm your host and pastor, Giovanni. Joining me today is—"
The jeep's speaker chimes, contrasting against the harsh, unsteady tremor of Kazdel's rocky surface. Fiammetta groans, throwing her head to the side and shooting a glance of disapproval towards Andoain. Did he not understand how obnoxious it was to listen to preaching while out on a mission? "Andoain, let me turn this trash off, man. If I wanted to be preached to right now, I'd be at Father Bruno's mass."
"It's important to keep our spiritualism in day, Fiammetta," Andoain fires back with a playful hum. "Or are you implying the Lord's teachings aren't important enough to be listened to at all times?"
There he goes with this again. He always pulls this whenever Fiammetta protests to the podcast. "Don't you put words in my mouth, I just want to listen to music right now. Besides, I don't think this guy's even a halfway decent pastor."
"Hm. Well, that is a matter of opinion, and as the captain"–Andoain shoots her a grin–"and driver, I get to choose what we listen to. Speaking of, that's what you should be calling me while we're on duty. 'Captain'."
"Dang, he's got you there, Fiammetta," Mostima annoyingly agrees with him. Always the instigator.
"Come on, we're all friends, I don't see the need for us to use codenames or titles when it's just us!" Fiammetta throws her hands up in the air, causing Lemuen to giggle. "I mean, are we going to treat each other as strangers just because we're on the clock? I'd get it if this was an important mission, but it's just some caravan bandits!"
"Regardless, it is protocol, you know," Lemuen points out.
Mostima laughs, "And now she's got you."
Fiammetta rolls her eyes. "Oh piss off, chiacchierone, you're not even adding anything to this conversation."
"Maybe, but I'm still making better points than the uccello rabbioso."
She did not just call her 'angry bird'. Fiammetta turns in her seat–looking back from the jeep's passenger seat–and raises her voice, "You listen here, you frammento di spazzatura blu—"
"Hole in the road," Andoain cuts her off.
The entire jeep jumps as it hits the small crater, giving Fiammetta pause–
"Oof!"
–and allowing everyone to hear a fifth, uninvited voice coming out of the storage space.
Silence. Nothing but the speaker makes a noise. "–and the Lord said then, that the Devil will tempt us with sin, and attempt to make us Astray–"
It too falls silent as Andoain turns the volume to zero. The jeep slowly comes to a stop, as all members of the party slowly draw their weapons (with Fiammetta drawing a crossbow instead of her grenade launcher). Andoain turns around in his seat, aiming just above where the seats' backs separate the backseats from the storage. He clears his throat, "Whoever you are, easy now. Sit up, hands in the air, slowly, and identify yourself. Do that, and we won't pull our triggers."
"Don't think we're precious with this ride, state's paying for it," Fiammetta adds.
They all hear shuffling, and a tarp slowly rises… with light bleeding through the fabric? Wait, if there's a light, then that means they're likely a Sankta. A thought runs through Fiammetta's mind as their intruder carefully slips the fabric off, revealing themselves to be none other than…
"H-Hi," Lemuel giggles nervously, pushing her fingers together like she's not twenty two years old, "please don't shoot."
A beat passes, and everyone lowers their weapons with a sigh. Lemuen slings her arm across the seat's backrest, raising an eyebrow at her. "Hi, Lemuel."
"Oh my God, I almost pulled the trigger—" Fiammetta runs a hand through her hair, gritting her teeth as her mind forces her to imagine the worst-case scenario in which they all shot first, talked later. "El, what the fuck. That is so dangerous, we could've killed you!"
"Y-Yeah I, uh, realized that half an hour ago," Lemuel admits, shifting as she lowers her hands. "Was trying to think of a way to let you all know I was here without… Anyway! Thanks for not shooting."
"You're welcome," Mostima replies, her snark less full than usual.
"When did you get in, and," Andoain shoots a look at Lemuel that makes the girl freeze up, "why are you here?"
"When you all finished loading up and went to go get your guns, I snuck in, and, uh…" Lemuel scratches her cheek, in the way that always melts Fiammetta's heart a little. She's totally abusing her babyface. "I… wanted to go with you guys on a mission!"
"Right…" Andoain sighs. He sounds exhausted. "Lemuel, you can't come on a mission with us, you're not part of the Pontifica Cohors. If anyone finds out you snuck in, you can say goodbye to your Notarial Hall job."
"But that's the point!" Lemuel fires back, suddenly energized. "Andoain, senior, all I do all day is sign documents and review permits or IDs, it's mind-numbing! I know that some people like this kinda pencil-pusher job, but I don't! That's not what I graduated school early for, or learned how to use a full-auto for! I want to do something big, something, something… something important!"
"Dangerous, you mean," Lemuen corrects her. Fiammetta can't decipher her expression.
"Yes!" Lemuel responds all too quickly, and shrinks into herself. "L-Look, I get it, this isn't an easy job. I know that. But that's why I want to go for it."
Mostima's wings flitter as she shoots her a glance. "... I'm not sure I get what you mean."
"People haven't always been… great with me, heck, most people still think all those school accidents were on purpose, they even call me a d-word when they think I can't hear them…" Something flashes in Lemuel's eyes as she mutters the last sentence. Fiammetta can recognize that. Weariness. From being seen as less. "S-So! If I can be of use to people–to Laterano–maybe it'll all get better! I wanna show people I can protect them too!"
"I can't tell if your motives are selfish, selfless, or a weirdly paradoxical mixture of both…" Andoain mutters, before humming. "I want to turn back and take you home, but we're hours away from Laterano, if we go, we'll lose their trail…"
"Hey, why not let her come with us after all?" Fiammetta asks. "It's not like this is a special mission or anything, this is just regular bandit mop-up. Plus, if nothing else, she'll be safer with us for her first outing than with anyone else."
"I suppose I see your point…" Andoain concedes, and sighs. "Are we all in agreement?"
Fiammetta turns to face the others. "What's the worst that could happen? Come on, give her a chance."
Mostima shrugs, while Lemuen takes a moment to silently contemplate. Finally, she nods. "Sounds like a plan."
"Alright," Andoain begins as the jeep roars back to life and begins to move again, "hop into the middle back-seat, Miss Lemuel. As of this very moment, you're a temporary member of my squad."
"YES!" Lemuel exclaims excitedly, jumping over the backrest and plopping herself down between Mostima and Lemuen. "I won't disappoint you, Captain Andoain sir!"
"Seems like she's already better with honorifics than you, Fiammetta," Andoain laughs.
Fiammetta rolls her eyes. "Oh, save it."
"Ah, one more thing," Andoain interjects as he adjusts the rearview mirror, letting him look Lemuel in the eyes through it, "Miss Lemuel, I trust you're aware of the mission, yes?"
She nods with such vigor it feels like her halo might fly off. "Yep, take care of some caravan raiding Sarkaz!"
"That's not what I meant." His tone suddenly shifts, from a calm, reassuring, subtly playful one, to one more suited for conducting a funeral. It sends a shiver down Fiammetta's spine, and she can tell Lemuel feels the same. "We're not here to just send them running, Miss Lemuel. Lives will be taken. And once you take that step, you don't come back from it." His halo subtly glows brighter. "Do you understand this?"
It takes Lemuel several moments to even process what he's saying. Her face blanches at first, and she freezes, hugging her patron gun. But before long, her own halo flashes, and there's a spark behind her eyes that Fiammetta could recognize anywhere; after all, she has that same flame. "Yes. I understand, Captain."
"Good."
Andoain turns the radio's volume up once more. "—And so let temptation never lead us to be Astray, and let our sights remain drawn at devils."
The rest of the ride is quiet. Quieter than Fiammetta thought it would be. It seemed that Andoain's warning had gotten through the younger Sankta's skull, most likely ringing on repeat even now, as she quietly sits in-between her sister and Mostima. Every few minutes she takes the magazine out, inspects it, and puts it back in, before checking the safety and grip of her gun. Rinse and repeat.
It was rare for Fiammetta to see Lemuel so serious, not just in attitude, but expression. Her usual easy-going smile has been replaced by a scowl that gives away how deep in thought she truly is.
"Alright, we're here," Andoain says as the car comes to a sudden stop that jolts Lemuel out of her head, "everyone out. Get ready."
Before anyone can make a move, the vehicle's radio comes to life again, chattering with static-y noise.
"S.O.S——Need help——Sarkaz raiders——this is the Laterano Pontifica——We're at—"
Everyone listens with bated breath as the voice lists off directions. Fiammetta glances at the map they pinned to their dashboard.
"It's not far from here," she begins, "I could get there and back in a day."
"Alone?" Andoains asks, a touch of doubt in his voice.
Fiammetta nods. "Yeah. I can handle myself, you'll all need more firepower here anyway."
"Alright, then I'll leave it to you. Everyone," Andoain opens his door and steps out, "get ready."
Fiammetta watches as all–Mostima, Andoain, and Lemuen–leave the jeep; all but Lemuel, who lingers behind. It only takes one glance at her expression for Fiammetta to know why Lemuel's hesitating. Anxiety. She'd know, she was the same way on her first mission after all.
She turns in her seat as she unbuckles herself, turning to face Lemuel before she hops between seats. "Hey, El."
"Yeah?" Her voice is quivering slightly. The poor girl's trying so hard to do this right.
"You got this." Fiammetta extends a fist towards her with a smile. After a moment, Lemuel giggles and bumps it. "Atta girl."
"It's not that, I'm…" Lemuel begins as Fiammetta hops onto the driver's side. "I'm just worried about you, actually."
"Oh." The thought of someone besides Patrizion being that concerned over her well-being… it makes her chest brim with a feeling she can't place. A feeling that both aches and soothes.
"Promise you'll be okay?" Lemuel's voice is coated in such worry that it nearly makes Fiammetta consider ignoring the call.
But she has a job to do. Still, it costs nothing for her to reassure Lemuel, ruffling her hair with a smile. "Only if you promise to be okay as well," she says. "We can hit up the arcade when we get back."
Lemuel grins and nods. "Then it's a date!"
And the air is deafeningly quiet now.
Before either can break the ice Lemuel has just accidentally created, the girl practically escapes the vehicle, yelping, "Okbyetakecareseeyousoon–"
Once she slams the door behind her, Fiammetta sighs and lets out a chuckle as she turns the jeep's key. "A date, huh? Yeah. I could go for one."
…
Mostima watches as Fiammetta drives off, while Lemuel runs to catch up with them, her face beet red. She can't help but smile at the sight.
"Lemme guess, you shot your shot?" Mostima teases, punching her lightly in the shoulder.
Lemuel grumbles, "Shut up."
"Now, now, don't get her worked up," Lemuen begins, "we have a job to do after all."
Andoain nods. "That's right, and seeing as this is her first mission, let's keep the joking to a minimum, okay?"
Mostima throws her hands up with a mock groan. "Alright, alright, party poopers. We doing this or what?"
"Mhm. Lemuel," Andoain begins, "before anything else, do you know the standard tactical hand signals?"
"Yyyynnnope," she admits.
"Right," he sighs, a hint of tiredness creeping up his voice. He raises his hand, beginning to gesture as he explains each gesture's meaning, "Raised closed fist, 'attention'. Downwards closed fist pump, 'move out'. Circle, 'rally'. And finally, open palm down, 'take cover'. Understand?"
It takes Lemuel a moment, but she nods and grins. "Yep, got it all, captain!"
"Good. There are more, but these are the only ones you need to know for this mission. Now," Andoain continues as he begins to move into the ruins with a raised gun, "let's move in, stay alert. We don't know what could happen there."
"Got it!" Lemuel replies excitedly, and Mostima can't help but roll her eyes.
"Alright squirt"–Mostima pushes her forward as she complains–"stay in the middle, I'll be in the back."
"I'm not a squirt–!"
"You're one fifty-nine," Lemuen correctly corrects, "you're a squirt."
At Lemuel's subsequent grumbling of 'one sixty on a good day', Mostima giggles. Maybe, just maybe, her tagging along wasn't the worst idea…
The thought escapes her mind as all sound is cut off the second they step through the ruins' entrance, figuratively, as everyone goes quiet, and literally, as any noise they make is cut short. A footstep sounds wrong, as the echo that is meant to be there cuts off suddenly, before it finishes a single lap. The air feels still. Everything suddenly feels off, like they'd just stepped into a zone where reality shifted just enough to send chills up everyone's spines, if the Empathy is being truthful.
"Hey…" Lemuel begins, and Andoain whispers 'quieter'. She repeats herself, lower this time, "Hey, does… anyone else feel that too?"
Andoain nods. "Yeah."
"Feels like the aftermath of an afterparty hangover…" Mostima mutters.
"Something isn't sitting right with me, it…" Lemuen trails off briefly as she hears her own voice die prematurely, "it feels like my footsteps have no impact, no presence at all."
"I feel like puking…" Lemuel groans, her vocalization vanishing before it can bounce back.
"High alert, everyone." Andoain looks around, his and Mostima's eyes finding a pebble… suspended in the air. Unmoving. "We don't know what we're dealing with here."
"Yes sir," all answer in unison as they retreat deeper into the ruins, their collective footsteps sounding more like a speaker playing back marching sounds than actual live steps.
Mostima passes by the floating rock, pushing it aside. It hits the wall, bouncing, only for its fall to stop midway to the ground. She hums. It doesn't leave her throat. And it itches. Her body feels like it's having an allergic reaction to reality.
They walk down a set of stairs. Along the way, they find… corpses. Frozen, rigid corpses, still in the process of hitting the ground. Living polaroids, snapshots of their final moments. Mostima clutches her blunderbuss harder, and she can see the way sweat is running down Lemuel's brow. The way her eyes dart from corner to corner, scanning for any danger. Mostima powerwalks ahead and catches up to her, gently tapping Lemuel's shoulder, earning a jolt.
"Hey," she whispers, "it'll be okay. Just bre–"
Her words are cut off as Lemuel's eyes go wide and she shoots to her feet, her gaze focused behind Mostima. She whips her head around to look at what she was fixated on, and she sees someone–a Sarkaz–shambling towards them, dragging a sword. She barely registers his appearance, his face all but a blur before she hears him, "Help–"
He suddenly trips. Everything feels so fast. So slow. It's all happening at once. Did he trip? Or did he swing his sword? She thinks it might be both. She can't even process her train of thought before a bullet enters his forehead, graymatter half splattering all over the wall, half suspending in the air. He doesn't fall forward, his head staying knocked back from the impact.
Mostima turns to face her group again, Andoain and Lemuen look alarmed. Lemuel's eyes are frantic, she's hyperventilating, smoke billowing from her barrel and stopping before it has a chance to dissipate, building up in one, shaky spot.
"I." Lemuel's words are dry, despite the sweat running down her cheeks. Is it sweat? "I thought he was attacking you."
"I thought so too," Mostima adds. "Or, well… I also thought he tripped. Both at once. I… let's hurry, this place isn't good for us."
Lemuen nods, putting a hand on Lemuel's shoulder and briefly bringing her back from the brink. "Agreed."
"Y-Yeah."
'Brink'. What brink Mostima saw Lemuel almost crossing, she didn't know.
After taking a moment to collect themselves, they continue further into the ruins, their halos illuminating the darkness just enough for them to see the silhouettes of more bodies, all in the same state as the others: frozen in time. It felt as though the deeper they went, the harder it was to move, the harder it was to breathe. Like the air they trudged through was becoming thicker and thicker, sludge that took physical exertion to wade through, to inhale and exhale.
After what feels like an eternity and an instant, the group arrives at the "end" of the ruins; in front of them stands/stood/will stand a large, sealed door, scratches running down the surface. And just in front of it, hovers/hovered/will hover two staves. Suffocating. Mostima was suffocating/suffocates/will suffocate, the air won't enter her lungs. Those staves felt like they were at the center of it all. Wordlessly, Andoain suddenly pushes/pushed/will push her aside.
Visions flash in Mostima's mind, glimpses into past, present, and futures that were, could be and will be.
He reaches/reached/will reach for the staves.
"Cap
tain," Lemuen begins, "be
careful." Each word of hers lags/lagged/will lag behind like a faulty transmission.
"My head…"
Lemuel groans.
Andoain's hand closes/closed/will close around the one of the staves—
And suddenly, everyone can breathe again. Mostima stumbles forward and feels the sounds and air that should've left her lungs ages ago finally flow free; once frozen bodies fall or wither away as Andoain walks past her, hand holding both staves. She laughs, "Jesus, how can one little pair do so much damage?"
"I dunno, but I think I'm gonna throw up…" Lemuel trails off, leaning on her sister.
Lemuen giggles, wrapping an arm around Lemuel's shoulder, "Those two… they're probably quite important, aren't they, Andoain?"
He mutters something.
Mostima turns away, studying the door and letting out a sigh of relief as she stretches and says, "Andoain, captain, we can't hear you right now, we're not Liberi. Mind speaking up?"
"... secure the future of Laterano in its people not a nation and in order to do that I need to rip away the very foundations and prejudices that have built that so-called paradise of ours that eliminatesandtargetsotherswhoarenotsanktaandwill–"
"... Captain?" Lemuel asks, her voice shaky.
"Andoain?" Lemuen begins. Andoain feels strange, the signal his empathy is outputting all wrong, scrambled, volatile. "Are you o—"
The last thing Mostima hears before turning to face her team again is a loud gunshot.
…
"I should be close now…" Fiammetta mutters as she drives, her destination growing closer and closer. There's a pit in her stomach, one that has been forming from the moment she was left alone with her thoughts; for some reason she couldn't place, she feels as though something's wrong. Something is terribly, terribly wrong. A pin sits on the edge of a table, waiting to drop. She's been hoping, for the entire drive, that it's just her anxiety talking, just irrational fears.
She sees a horned silhouette in the distance, next to a tent. They look as though they're sitting on a fold-up chair. In their hand, a crossbow, automatic. On their hip, a gun.
Her eyes focus. "Found you."
Fiammetta floors it, and the front of the jeep rams against the Sarkaz's back, sending them flying. They skid across the ground, motionless.
She gets out of her vehicle, weapon drawn, waiting for a movement from the Sarkaz that never comes. She walks over to the tent, and just as she rips it open, she sees it. A speaker, next to a radio, transmitting the same message on loop. The same SOS message she followed here. Leading to the same location.
And for the first time in her life, her usually fiery hot blood runs cold. "Oh, god."
…
Mostima spins around to look at the source of the gunshot, and just as she turns, she sees who it hit: Lemuen. A white hot bright flash of light concentrated on her gut, her bangs obscuring her eyes. Her halo and wings flicker–a Sankta on the edge of death–and it finally clicks for Mostima what hit her. Andoain's Arts-infused bullet, strong enough to pierce an armored guard's shielding. The fact Lemuen's entrails weren't plastered behind her was a miracle in itself.
Her eyes glance over Lemuel. She can't tell what she's thinking, nor does she register her expression. All that's on Mostima's mind now is Andoain. Something inside her is screaming, wailing.
'Andoain cannot be allowed to take the Lock and Key.'
She doesn't know what the Lock and Key are. She doesn't know where those thoughts come from. All she knows is that she has to follow them. She rushes forward, raising her blunderbuss pistol, getting ready to shoot Andoain at nearly point-blank range for maximum damage—
A barrage of five bullets fly past her from behind, cutting through her hair, nicking the side of her ear. Four shots connect with Andoain; abdomen, pectoral, shoulder, and plexus. Only his shoulder is pierced as the fifth shot goes wide, embedding itself into the walls of the ruins. He drops to his knees, the staves falling out of his hands.
Lemuen can't shoot that fast, can't shoot so many bullets one after the other, which means…
Mostima's eyes go wide as she lowers her gun, Andoain momentarily slipping her mind as she looks back and shouts, "El!"
She can see it. Her. She can see Lemuel's halo begin to dim, and the edges of her wings darken, crystalizing into a solid black. Her eyes are wild and focused like a beast protecting its kin. Lemuel doesn't even hesitate as her finger pushes down on the trigger again, as horns sprout from the side of her head and tear her hair-tie apart. One, two, three more shots fly out and collide with Andoain before the gun stops shooting, in spite of herself.
"ANDOAIN"–Mostima's never heard Lemuel sound like this as she bellows–"I'M NOT LETTING YOU GO!"
She watches as Lemuel tosses her gun aside and rushes for him, a woman possessed. Mostima was sure if she allowed Lemuel to go, she'd strangle the life out of Andoain with her own two hands. But then, out of the corner of her vision, she sees Lemuen's slumped over body. Her light hasn't gone out yet. She's not dead yet. She reaches an arm out and stops Lemuel, an action that almost sends Mostima to the ground. "El, screw him, look!"
"Let go of me, Mostima! I'm gonna kill him, I'm gonna snap his twiggy neck and—"
Without thinking, Mostima drives a fist into Lemuel's nose, sending the girl reeling, and gaining her attention. Lemuel's eyes turn to look at Mostima, and the way her glare pierces her is enough to make her feel as though she's just been shot herself. "L-Lemuen's still alive, look!"
"What?!" At that, the younger girl immediately turns and runs toward her sister.
With her distracted, Mostima gets ready to pursue Andoain as her gaze falls back on where he was… only to find nothing. Nothing but the staves he dropped. He's seemingly escaped. Part of Mostima feels thankful for that. She rushes towards the relics and hoists them into her arms. Immediately, she feels a rush of knowledge–connection–spread throughout her body. These are the Lock and Key. The relics her gut begged her not to let Andoain keep.
After briefly feeling their weight and center of gravity, Mostima goes up to Lemuel, currently kneeling beside a bleeding Lemuen. Unconscious, barely holding onto life. In her current state, without medical help, she wouldn't last another hour.
"Lemuen, expergiscere, quaeso, Lemuen…!" Lemuel chokes out as she holds her sister's wound, her newly grown tail lashing around. She doesn't even notice the horns she now sports, or the trickle of crimson running down her ear, dripping down from her new 'appendages'.
"Lemuel, move."
Lemuel jolts as Mostima pushes her out of the way. "Wha—"
It's like instinct, the way Mostima twirls around the twin staves. "She won't make it like this," she states plainly. Her eyes are unfocused and focused at the same time. Like her movements aren't truly her own. "But with this…"
She strikes the black staff, Lock, against the white staff, Key, on top of Lemuen, and suddenly, she seems to still.
"What did you do…?" Lemuel asks, incredulous.
"Don't ask me… Even I don't really know," she admits. "All I know is that bought us two days. Let me carry her, she should probably stay close to… these two."
Lemuel watches as she gestures to the relics. "Yeah… yeah, ok. I'll… Uh…"
"Pick up your gun?"
"... Sure."
Mostima fixes her gaze on Lemuel as she shakily rises from her knees and walks to her dropped gun, hugging it tight. Her eyes are unfocused, lost, staring at nothing in particular.
"El, are you okay?"
It takes a moment, but she eventually lets out a shaky breath and responds, "I've got a killer migraine."