Chapter Text
It started with a note.
Blazing sunshine and the humid heat made getting any work done difficult, or so Ewron told himself. He passed his days lazily, among the lush trees where the buds of civilization peaked past the treelines, half constructed buildings standing eagerly awaiting completion as the hybrid engaged their owners in conversation, either introducing himself eagerly.
Seemingly to some more eager than others. There had been a man he met, a strange one, face partially obscured by purple static and curled dark hair, adorned back then in a plain suit and air of mystery. He introduced himself as Ash and but moments later asked Ewron if he would assist him in bringing an end to everyone, suddenly in that moment the idle chatter around him became nought but white noise and he could only focus on the man before him, voice unwavering and eyes piercing. Who was he to decline such an enticing offer?
To consolidate the deal, Ewron gave him the only thing he had on hand, a piece of moss, one that was seemingly untouchable and difficult to obtain. It was a minor thing, nothing more than a heat of the moment gift but Ash treated it as sacred, carrying it with him to their first official meeting. Under the watchful gaze of the moon and thrashing of the ocean waves, their partnership was set in stone. A willing blade and a worthy master.
That had only been a day ago, the memory replaying within his mind ever since, distracting him from the mountains of busy-work placed upon his and the other Hussars shoulders.
He enjoyed socialising way more than working on their humble (read: sad) base within the mountains cave, while the view outside was stunning; acting as a vantage point to witness the sun set between the peaks and watching the lake below turn into a glittering pool of gold, if one were to turn just 180 degrees their illusion would be swiftly shattered.
Jagged stone jutted from each wall, the load bearing pillar of stone in the centre casting their home with shadows upon the uneven floor, storage was scattered around the area haphazardly and within side rooms carved out from the mountain's insides. He pitied Grzegorz, his lovely red panda, for having to stay in such a crude area - Ewron made sure to take him out as often as possible so he could run around in the lush woodlands and play amongst the tall grass.
Nexe had claimed that Ewron only took Grzegorz out so often to get out of doing any actual work. Maybe there was slight truth to the statement, but Ewron couldn’t get enough of how Grzegorz would try to hide in the grass, leaving two beady eyes visible and a swishing tail, truly a master of stealth in his own eyes. It was like their little ritual, Grzegorz would hide and Ewron would play along, calling out to him through the soft winds until before Grzegorz would jump out and “scare” him.
He always looked so proud of himself afterwards, one upping the giant red panda and squeaking in joy as his soft paws bounced around Ewron’s feet.
Today was no different. Ewron made his way home, Grzegorz pacing in front like a wordless evening shadow despite stomping his paws, the few flowers dotted along their journey no doubt facing his wrath. According to the little red panda, his conversation with Quackity, who had been passing by the area, was far too long and he threw a bit of a tantrum, tugging at his trousers with his teeth until he finally gave in and decided to call it a night. The poor thing was almost as attention hungry as the man himself.
He climbed his way through the giant opening in their base, trailing behind the ball of orange and white fluff, making his way to a small side room to lay down his backpack among the rest of their main storage.
That's when he saw it. Pinned to a chest with a tiny dagger, ivory against sleek crafted wood, a piece of parchment no bigger than a palm with just two ominous words on the front.
“To Ewron.”
Ewron grasped the handle, grabbing the note and wincing at the small nick left behind on the otherwise smooth chests surface. Nonetheless, his tail swished in anticipation, a thrill coursing through his bloodstream. Someone had broken into his base and left him a note, a threat perhaps? Good, Ewron was itching for a chance to use his blades once more, he feared himself becoming rusty after all this lazing around. A rusty blade would be of no use to Ash afterall.
His eyes met his own within the reflection of the dagger, he turned the item over in hand, it fit in his palm nicely and held a steady weight to it. In the past, when he had first grown from a boy to a young man, he had used similar weaponry, not yet fully able to bear the brunt of a sword's weight in combat. Pocketing the “gift”, he turned his attention over to the note.
“Grzegorz!” He called, waving the note back and forth, the red panda's ears perked up at hearing his name before he came running, his earlier annoyance at Ewron seemingly forgotten, “It seems we have some mail.”
Flipping over the note, he began to read the neat black scribble.
“In every moment we spend apart I long to see you once more. I haven’t the bravery to say it to your face just yet so for now, I hope you find use for the dagger I left you.”
Ewron’s gaze shifted to the bottom of the page.
“Signed, Your secret admirer.”
He stood there unmoving, blinking a couple of times, Grzegorz eyed his reaction curiously. Suddenly, Ewron's ears pinned to the side of his head and he cursed.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
He expected a challenge, a threat, an invitation to duel over something or another, not this… Childish prank. He glanced around the base, narrowing his eyes at the lingering shadows, expecting Nexe, Multi or Graf to come out of whatever corner they were hiding from and burst out laughing like a pack of wild hyenas.
As his excitement sizzled down, he crouched down on the ground as if he had deflated and let out a groan. The chance of the note's legitimacy was less than zero at best, but even if it had been genuine, Ewron couldn't keep his mouth shut and interacted with so many different people since beginning his time with the Hussars. Narrowing down a suspect would be nigh impossible, as for who realistically wrote that stupid note… Well, he had a good idea.
“Hmm… The idea was probably Nexe’s, only he’d think of something this juvenile- Since the note was written in english it was pretty obviously Graf writing but-” He sighed, rubbing the back of his head with the palm of his hand, “Multi probably came up with the contents himself, he’d always been good lyrically so it only makes sense.”
Folding the offending note neatly, he placed it in the pocket of his uniform before extending his hand to pet the fuzz between Grzegorz’s tiny ears, “D’you agree, boy?”
The little rascal squeaked, rubbing the top of his head against Ewron's palm, the man doubted that the red panda even understood him but he took it as confirmation anyway.
Ewron’s hand stilled for a moment, deep in thought, then a grin broke out on his face from ear to ear.
“How about we cause a little bit of chaos for the others, hm?”
That night when the others returned home and craved relaxation, the batteries to the TV (The one Graf had so graciously “borrowed” a day prior) remote seemed to have magically disappeared along with all the spares they kept in the base. The smug expression didn’t leave Ewron’s face for the rest of the night, watching the three men search around in each chest and under each crevice in their stone home.
An eye for an eye, serves them right.
The next gift came a few days later.
Roots of exhaustion had crept their way through Ewron’s limbs, the funeral had been his breaking point, he kept himself busy though his motivation was quickly dwindling. Days spent outdoors gathering supplies for Graf, wind caressing his sore limbs in its cold embrace, or helping Multi with his endeavour into nuclear energy. He’d begun to appreciate the darkness of their home more, all-encompassing and quiet.
Within the shadows cast by pillars of rock spawned tranquility, the splash of the tides lapping against the shore quieted down in his mind, the memory of the sickly-sweet smell of flowers dissipated. He no longer thought about Grzegorz's grave, if only for a few futile moments.
It was as if a chunk of himself had been ripped out when he passed, much too sudden, too fresh to process. So he tried to keep himself upright, throw himself into mindless work and go on like normal. He was fine, but these things take time, time that only crawled by and each sunset taunted.
He still met up with Ash, well, tried to. Riding his shabby wooden boat across the ocean, the waves calm and quiet, both a blessing and a curse, an easy journey traded for nothing to silence his rushing thoughts, a blend of anger and sorrow twisting in his gut. The silent sea spat his visage back at him, dull eyes sunk into their sockets, thread-bare uniform framing messy ginger hair, a painting of a man at his wits end.
Normally, it was thrilling talking to Ash, when the man arrived he would let that deep tone carry him away, their shared bloodlust melting into the air around them but this time his voice was distant, like an echo. Ash looked at him with concern, expression soft and eyes gentle, he didn’t deserve his concern, it was wasted on a man like Ewron. He tried to carry on like normal, standing tall despite the flaring pain in his spine but Ash’s purple eyes bore right through him and called off the meeting, ever the leader.
Static sounded around Ash, the glitches surrounding the man agitated much like the red panda before him, face downcast and obscured by his uniform hood, the seed of shame sprouted in his chest, a nasty growth closing up his throat. What use was a blade that cracked under pressure from something as pathetic as mourning a pet. His mind screamed at him, Grzegorsz was important to him, to all of the Hussars, it clawed his skull.
Ash said nothing for a while but he found his presence comforting in a way, he indulged himself in it greedily. Eventually, Ash would get rid of him but for now it's all he could allow himself.
They- or Ash, more accurately, decided to put their meetings on hold until Ewron gets back on his feet. And with that, Ewron rode back alone, solitary against the dim sky. He glanced back, towards Ash, his assassin, his master, it almost seemed like the man was reaching towards him from a distance, still stood upon the boat like an obsidian idol, arm outstretched before dropping to his side limply.
For a moment, as fleeting as the stars hanging overhead, he wondered what his caress would feel like upon his skin.
Since then the sun set and rose lazily for a few days, each morning got easier but the passing of Grzegorz still loomed in the air.
Ewron adjusted the straps on his backpack, shifting the weight higher for the climb into the Hussar base, the earlier scorch of the sun eased against his back as a cold bead of sweat ran down his brow. He heaved his way up the shabbily built stone steps (that he will take no criticism on) before depositing his backpack - filled to the brim with dripstone for Graf - with a resounding thud, dust and small stones kicking up with impact, he let out a sigh from deep within his chest.
As he gave a small leisurely stretch, his bones cracked like an unoiled machine. God, he was too old to be lugging heavy shit around like this but he appreciated the distraction, however small. He yawned, sudden exhaustion catching up with him, ears twitched slightly having caught a noise from deep below, a ringing of metal sparks, a welding tool perhaps. Seems Multi is already home and working tirelessly on his nuclear endeavour. Ewron really did try to listen to the man when he went on about how to build a reactor and how it’s “the new age” but it served as nothing more than white noise, in one fluffy ear and out the other.
Sighing once more, he glanced back onto the backpack and picked it up once more to move it to storage, lest Nexe has a go at him for leaving crap lying around again.
That's when he saw it.
Upon an indent in the wall, flat and shelf-like, stood a small wooden carving, birch perhaps, beneath it was a piece of parchment, unable to escape the confines of the statue's weight. As Ewron approached, bag once again forgotten, dropped onto the ground with its contents clanking against harsh stone, he could make out the design of the carving. Tiny paws lead up the small fluffy body and ending at a curious face etched into wood, a tail encased mid sway connected to the body, marks in the wood indicated striped along its form. It was the perfect picture of Grzegorsz.
His heart clenched. Reaching for the small carving, he ran his thumb along the cuts made into the wood, precise and skilled, he could almost imagine it was Grzegorsz’s fur, soft and thick and alive. He turned his attention to the note, labeled simply, “To Ewron.”.
A strange sense of deja-vu washed over him, reaching around his thoughts for why that sounded so familiar before finally landing on the culprit. The dagger and note from a few days ago.
Flipping the note over to confirm his suspicions, he read;
“I’m sorry for your loss. Nothing can replace what you’ve lost, but the memory can be preserved.”
“From, Your secret admirer.”
Ewron rolled his eyes, the note was sweet and the carving was a nice reminder of his poor pet, but he couldn’t believe his friends were still pulling this stupid prank. A small laugh escaped his throat, a light sound, the weight carried off his shoulders with it. He allowed himself a smile for the first time in what felt like forever.
The Hussars knew he hated pity and rather than directly confront him again - they decided to bring back the silly admirer, it amused him quite a bit, he pocketed the note, folded neatly and placed within the same pocket as the dagger he had previously received and hugged the statue close to his chest, the soft beating of his heart sounding against the wooden creation.
He supposes he should go thank his friends later, but that can wait for now. Ewron would rather stew in the momentary tranquility, the essence of Grzegorsz held close to him.
Tomorrow, he can do it tomorrow.