Work Text:
Phantom could not remember the last time another soul had stepped foot within the Exhaust Organ, much less from the so-called holy chambers above, and yet they could hear the distinct noise of slow, deliberate steps that gradually grew closer. They listened closely as the sounds echoed off of the walls of the desolate halls, completely halting all movement as their claws hovered just above the keys of the organ, not yet turning around to confront whoever had found their way here but remaining alert and listening to every movement to try and get an idea of what they might have to face.
As they focused on every little noise produced by the movements of whoever or even whatever was approaching, they managed to make out the faint yet unmistakable sound of metal tapping against the ground with every step. They momentarily considered the idea that perhaps their unexpected company was one of those Citadel bugs covered with gilded plate armour, but no, they would have no reason to return here. Besides, the movements did not sound like one of their wretched kind. The footsteps were different… too rhythmic.
The footsteps finally drew to a close as whoever was creating them finally reached the main chamber of the Exhaust Organ, a heavy silence falling over the once grand building long brought to ruin by time. Phantom could sense the presence of their strange visitor behind them, the feeling of being watched that they had not felt in eons finding its way into their silken heart.
Slowly, Phantom reached for the fractured white mask that sat beside them, bringing it to their face as they prepared to confront the figure whose presence was burning into them. They then began to turn around to see just who had dared to disturb the haunted stillness of this place, claws ready to grasp for their longpin should the intruder be one who might grant them the thrill of combat they so craved.
The figure that stood at the base of the towering instrument was not one of an organic bug, nor was it spun of silk just as they were. Instead, the bug’s shell, if it could even be called that, but instead one of pristine gold plating. The metal shone brightly in glaring contrast to the faded golden accents across the entire structure, pristine in such a way that Phantom hardly recalled after so long spent in these ruins. It gazed up at Phantom with an unreadable expression on its face, head slightly inclined in a way that made the two plumes atop its helm tilt to the side as well in a display that might have been cute if not for its uncanny appearance.
Something about its eyes filled Phantom with a primal sense of dread, those white voids like those of no bug truly alive yet attempting to mimic them. They had never bore witness to a being quite like this one before, however, given the few scraps of information they had caught wind of ever since their exile, it was not difficult to guess what it might be.
One of the gilded automatons of The Citadel, those tasked to forever preserve its so called glory.
Phantom stood up from where they sat before the massive instrument that had for so long been the only thing they knew, using their arms as support in an attempt to ease the sharp pain that the simple act put upon their fraying body.
The construct did not flinch even slightly under their gaze, betraying no emotion as it continued to stare up at them with that blank expression.
Having no reason to speak anymore for so long, Phantom could hardly remember the last time they had opened their mouth to say anything, and yet the sound of their voice came out just as confident and commanding as it once had, echoing off of the walls of the chamber and up into the rafters.
“Why have you stepped foot within this fading place, gilded automaton? I am to assume that you have descended from the so-called holy lands above, have you come here on an order to end what my Mother started?”
The robotic bug showed no reaction to their words, however it offered a small, courteous bow once they had finished speaking before returning to their unnaturally straight posture.
“L-l-lost is this Sentinel. Its usual patrol was derailed and it is unsure how it ended up here. It means you n-no harm and simply w-wishes to know where it is.”
Its voice was robotic which was to be expected of such a being, having no mouth to move in order to speak and instead having a voicebox embedded somewhere within its shell. Its words were occasionally broken up by slight static, perhaps having sustained some damage to part of its system that had so far gone unchecked by one of the Architects.
Phantom’s eyes narrowed to slits beneath their pale white mask, attempting to detect any untruth in the Sentinel’s words. However, despite its voice being monotone and seeming to lack any form of obvious emotion behind it, the gilded machine’s words seemed entirely genuine.
Phantom lowered their guard, if only slightly upon observing this, though they still kept their longpin well within reach should the Sentinel lash out despite its currently peaceful state. “You have found your way to the Exhaust Organ, gilded Sentinel. How you have managed to stumble upon these fading halls is beyond me. I’m afraid that I can offer no assistance in giving you direction to return above, having not dared step foot outside of this place in many eons myself.”
The automaton listened to their words before nodding curtly, understanding that the silken bug before it could offer no assistance yet choosing to remain. “V-very well, this Sentinel will ask you for no further directions. However, seeing as you speak of not having left in so long, it must ask if you are here against y-your own will. Your shell appears to have sustained extreme damage and it must confirm that you will be alright if left here a-a-alone once more.”
Phantom’s eyes narrowed further at those words, once more questioning the true intentions of The Citadel’s construct. Perhaps it was simply due to how long they had spent in isolation, but they had grown cautious towards any attempts made to get them to speak about themself.
“The damage to my shell is not something for you to concern yourself with, gilded one. Though, I must now ask you something in turn. Why are you so intent to involve yourself with me? I’ve made it clear that I’ve nothing to offer you. There is no reason for you to remain here any longer, so why do you linger? Rather, who are you? I understand that you are a Sentinel of The Citadel, but that tells me very little.”
“It is the d-duty of this Sentinel to ensure that The Citadel is defended at all costs, which includes-s its property and citizens. This place appears to be part of its region of influence, which puts you firmly within t-this Sentinel’s duty to see to the safety of,” it explained, speaking as if this was supposed to bring Phantom any comfort and not simply bring up more questions. It then gave another swift bow as it continued to speak, lowering its head and crossing its two scissorlike blades across its chest. “As for who it is, this Sentinel is the Second of its kind, a p-p-protector of The Citadel and creation of the Architects. If it may, this Sentinel would like to inquire as to who you m-might be as well.”
The fraying organist stiffened up as the question was asked, body caught between flinching and freezing up completely. While they did have a name, it was one that they had long left behind along with the life they had been ripped away from so carelessly. All of this time, they had been living without an identity to call their own. There had been no need for one. None of the pilgrims that attempted to pass through the Exhaust Organ in their quests to The Citadel above were exactly in the position to be making conversation, most likely not even seeing them as a living being as they carved the life out of their lesser shells to prevent them from ascending any further.
They were nothing more than a ghost that haunted these fading halls, a mere spectre of their Mother’s regrets. However, this was the closest they had come to having an identity for as long as the silken bug could remember, giving them something to hold onto to give them meaning in this world.
“...Phantom. You may call me Phantom.”
____________________
“You know, the excuse that you’ve wandered down here after becoming lost is only going to work so many times, Sentinel,” Phantom lightheartedly teased the gilded automaton that sat by the Organ’s bench, looking over their shoulder at it without missing a single note in the song they were playing.
After their initial encounter, the Second Sentinel had begun returning quite frequently, always stating that it had once again become lost. Of course, Phantom believed none of it. The robot had an uncannily accurate memory in every other regard, so the idea that somehow it forgot its patrol path this frequently was a difficult one to convince them of. Though, it was not as if Phantom did not enjoy these visits. Hearing the Second Sentinel’s footsteps descending down the halls towards their chamber of residence had become a sound sweeter to them than any melody the instrument they played could ever produce.
The Sentinel inclined their head as the silken organist spoke, the soft feathers atop its helm matching its movements in a way that Phantom found quite adorable. “This S-sentinel does not know what you are speaking of. As previously stated, its usual patrols have been derailed frequently as of late.”
Phantom let out a short, soft laugh at these words, smiling at this machine that had become something of a companion to them, though the gesture could not be seen beneath their mask. They returned their gaze to the keys of the Organ before them, humming a low melody along to the rhythm of the music as they had done so many times before.
They knew that the Sentinel enjoyed listening to them play music, having taken to sitting next to them for hours and gazing up at them with wonder in its eyes as it watched them. At times it would even slowly begin to shut off when they played softer songs, much like a mortal bug would fall asleep listening to a lullaby. Phantom had begun to ensure that they did so on days when the gilded Sentinel seemed overworked in an attempt to allow them a brief moment of calm.
Phantom had never known that a machine could even understand the sounds, though they supposed that the Second Sentinel was no regular automaton. Just as they had been, the Second Sentinel was created in a way that would not make it alive in a traditional sense, and yet both of them had all of the sentience that a regular bug would, though they displayed this in opposite ways. While the Sentinel had more than enough physical strength to turn against its creators if it so wished, it was bound by its code that, while it was capable of going beyond, kept it fiercely devoted to The Citadel. Phantom frequently wondered why it did not choose to initiate such a rebellion, though they supposed that the Second Sentinel must ask itself the same regarding their situation. After all, they possessed enough hatred and spite towards their Mother to fuel an entire army, and yet their body had not the strength to so much as leave this prison they had been forced to call their home. Both of them were bound by the design of their creators, made to fill a certain role and easily disposable should they ever step out of line.
“Sentinel, you have told me much about the Architects who created you, though there is something you have never shared that I would be interested to know should you be willing,” the silken bug said, not looking up from the keys of the instrument before them. The plumes atop the Second Sentinel’s head perked up at that, eager to speak about its creators. “Why do you hold them in such high regard? You speak of their greatness and many grand achievements, but what is it about them that makes you respect them so deeply?
The Sentinel stopped to ponder this question for a brief moment, having never truly thought about it before. The Architects were its creators, to consider them its masters was never a question, simply the reality that it was created into. Their hands were the ones that carefully built its shell from mere scrap metal, every one of its intricate circuits carefully crafted one by one. The Architects had created the Sentinel and given it its reason to be, and for this it was only natural for them to practically be gods to it.
“This Sentinel has never truly c-c-considered it before, and it is unsure how to answer beyond once again stating that they have given it life and a purpose for that life. They repair it whenever it sustains damage in combat, and it is grateful for this. This S-Sentinel has them to give thanks for its very shell, and for this it trusts them with its life.”
It was then Phantom’s turn to consider those words, a slight sinking feeling that they could not place taking grip of their silk heart. They remembered when they had thought of their own creator in such a way, believing Her to be a perfect god that could do no wrong. Oh, how things had changed when they no longer fit Her vision of a perfect daughter. They truly prayed that the Architects would never turn on the Second Sentinel, that they were just as caring and patient as it described them. They could only hope that it never met their same fate.
“Hm, well, regardless of their deeper reasons behind your creation, I suppose that I too should be grateful to them for giving you life. After all, your visits have become something that I rather look forward to.”
The Second Sentinel jerked upright at those words, posture straightening as they stared up at Phantom with wide eyes from where it sat, the loud and sped up whirring of its cogheart audible over its incoherent stuttering. It reacted this way every time Phantom displayed such affection towards it, clearly not used to being spoken to like this.
Phantom let out a soft laugh at its affection induced malfunction, getting up from the Organ’s bench they had been sitting at and moving to the ground next to the gilded Sentinel, sitting back down beside it.
“Do not act so surprised, Senti. You know very well that these days you come to see me bring me great joy. I think I’ve made it clear by now that I enjoy your companionship.”
The Second Sentinel could only nod at their words, gears spinning rapidly as the soft feathers atop its helm stood directly upwards despite its best attempts to remain composed.
____________________
Phantom sat on the floor of the chamber that they had haunted in solitude for so long, the Second Sentinel resting its head upon their lap. As the two became more comfortable in each other’s presence, they had discovered that the automaton rather enjoyed physical closeness, something that they themself were happy to provide, having craved such a thing for much more time than they would be willing to admit even to themself.
Their mask lay beside them on the cold floor, feeling no need to hide their face around their newfound companion.
The fraying organist absentmindedly ran their fingers through the plumes atop the Sentinel’s head, gently twirling them around the tip of one of their claws as they sat with their eyes closed and head leaned back in relaxed contentment. They hummed softly as the Sentinel rested upon their lap, filling the cold silence of the Exhaust Organ with a pleasant melody that echoed within the rafters. The gilded robot’s eyes were dimmed as opposed to their usual pale white glow, indicating that it was in a state of rest. Though, the subtle whirring of its cogheart seemed to almost follow the tune of their song, having long committed it to its memory from all the times that Phantom had played those notes for it upon the Organ, indicating that it was not completely deactivated and was grateful for the melody.
Phantom was suddenly pulled back to reality by the sounds of the Sentinel’s voice, its voicebox breaking up more than usual, a telltale sign that it was somewhat nervous. They looked down at the machine that rested upon their lap as its eyes lit up, indicating that it was awake once more.
“P-P-Phantom, there is a c-concern bothering this Sentinel that it would like to confide in you.” They inclined their head at its words, awaiting for it to elaborate. The Sentinel had seemed more on edge than usual lately and Phantom was beginning to grow somewhat worried for the automaton.
“There was r-recently a bug that this S-Sentinel eliminated due to sensing the presence of the haunting within it. This is its duty, after all. However, its creators seemed displeased about this and h-h-have been speaking to it less during maintenance. It is w-worried that it has somehow upset them t-through carrying out this task.”
Phantom’s silken heart practically dropped when they heard those words. The Second Sentinel had killed one of The Citadel’s residents? They cared not for the bugs who made up that so-called holy choir, however, they knew what happened to beings like them who step out of line. Both of them had been created by beings whose natures were so high above their own, brought into this world with a purpose already set. And Phantom knew better than anyone else what happened when that purpose was strayed from.
They did not reply for a moment and their absentminded fidgeting with the Second Sentinel’s helmet plumes came to a halt. The gilded automaton quickly picked up on their sudden shift in demeanor, shifting around nervously on their lap as its cogs began whirring faster.
“D-D-Do you find this to be a cause for co-concern? This Sentinel s-senses some amount of discomfort in your reaction… Has it d-done something wrong?” The Sentinel’s voice was quickly becoming more choppy the more it spoke, clearly equally as, if not more nervous than its companion by now.
Phantom shook their head, attempting to dispel their worries about the whole scenario. The Second Sentinel was tasked with eliminating any threats to The Citadel, and it had simply done exactly that. Killing a bug who had fallen to the recent haunting was well within the duties that its creators had placed upon it. And yet, something about the story sat horribly wrong with them.
“No, I do not believe that you did anything wrong, Senti. What you have described is well within your assigned duties from what I understand, even if it did involve killing one of the choir bugs,” Phantom began, speaking carefully in an attempt to not let any of their fears spill outward and further agitate the Sentinel. “Perhaps the reason that your creators have been acting differently towards you is simply because they did not anticipate that such a situation would ever have to unfold. If I remember correctly, you’ve told me that no one truly understands the haunting yet, so it would not be unlikely that they are still in shock and nothing more.”
Phantom didn’t know if they were trying to convince themself or the Sentinel with these words anymore.
However, it did seem to somewhat reassure the automaton, its gears beginning to slow and the heat coming from its body gradually becoming less intense as its systems stopped overheating quite as much. Seeing that their words were having some positive effect, Phantom continued speaking.
“You speak so highly of the Architects quite frequently. It is clear that you view them very highly, no? You’ve described them fixing damage to your shell with such care, so despite never having met them myself, I find it hard to imagine that they could truly intend to do anything that may harm you. You trust them with your very life, do you not?”
The Second Sentinel nodded without any hesitation, confirming that it would indeed place its life in the hands of its creators with no second thoughts. Phantom couldn’t help but smile slightly at that, the small gesture visible to the world where normally it would be obscured by their mask. They truly did love seeing the Sentinel speak so passionately about its deep devotion towards its creators. Where once they had been unsure if a machine could truly hold love for others, the automaton’s undeniable care towards the Architects was impossible to overlook. Especially when it seemed that it was also showing this deep care towards Phantom themself as well.
“Then it sounds as if there is no need to worry yourself.”
The Second Sentinel looked up at them, a sort of warmth in its usually unreadable eyes. Despite being unable to convey facial expressions, it always found a way to communicate whatever it may be feeling to Phantom without words. They could not deny that it was quite endearing.
The feathers upon the Sentinel’s helm then suddenly perked up slightly, seemingly more alert now. It lifted its head from Phantom’s lap and shifted itself to a sitting position before fully standing upright. The silken organist’s gaze followed its actions with curiosity, inclining their head to the side, a silent question.
“This S-Sentinel has just become aware as to how much time has passed since it arrived here. It must r-return to its duties before its absence is noticed.” Upon hearing these words, Phantom too became aware of just how much time had melted away as they sat together in comfortable silence.
They were about to reply and encourage that the Second Sentinel would be wise to return to The Citadel above when the gilded automaton kneeled down to their eye level where they sat, reaching out both hands and gently placing them on either side of Phantom’s face. It then leaned its forehead against their own, carefully running its fingers across their graying silk. Phantom was stunned by the sudden action for a brief moment, having not experienced such affection and tenderness since long before their banishment, however they quickly reciprocated the action, moving their hands to the Sentinel’s somewhat warmer than usual metal face. Its gears once again began to whirr faster in response, heating up further from the unexpected mirroring of the action. They remained like this for a moment longer before the Second Sentinel pulled away, standing up straight once more. The sounds coming from its overloaded system did not stop and Phantom could have sworn they saw a few small puffs of steam emerge from within its gilded shell.
It quickly regained its composure to some degree however, having at least regained the ability of speech after its momentary malfunction of sorts. The Sentinel removed its two scissorlike blades from where they rested upon its back, crossing its arms and offering a polite bow before it turned around to exit the Exhaust Organ.
“T-This Sentinel thanks you once again for y-your companionship, Phantom.”
Phantom couldn’t stop themself from smiling a little as they heard those words, lifting an arm to wave goodbye to the automaton. “I could say the same for you, Senti. Please do return soon, it gets rather lonely here without you here.”
The Sentinel halted at that, stopping to look back over their shoulder at the silken bug. “Worry not, this S-Sentinel shall be back as soon as it is able. Until then, remain safe, my friend.”
Phantom watched as the Second Sentinel exited the chamber and listened to its footsteps echoing above, growing fainter and more distant until they faded away entirely. Once the rhythmic tapping of its walk had entirely stopped, Phantom reached for the old mask that sat beside them on the cold floor, lifting it to their face and adjusting it until it was somewhat secure.
They stood up slowly, letting out a hardly audible wince of pain from the strain that the action put on their frail form. Once upright, the organist made their way back to the massive instrument at the farthest end of the chamber and sat down on the bench. Their fingers danced across the keys of faded gold, the somewhat melancholy notes filling the ancient structure with song once more. The song that Phantom played was one that the Sentinel had seemed to enjoy the last time they had played it, so they wanted to perfect the melody before it next returned.
They didn’t know that it had been their last time together.