Chapter Text
“Greetings, Endministrator."
Camille had half expected him to keep walking, or turn a corner and disappear entirely.
Lately the Endministrator had been traveling through the entire length of the Dijiang, his hurried steps and wide strides echoing throughout the sleek metal corridors of the ship’s hallways from forward to aft.
Occasionally the Endministrator would enter a facility room, but unusually, he would hardly come back out the way he came in. If Camille managed to catch up to the Endmin, his greetings would fall upon distracted ears, with Endmin either carrying on his daily strides immersed in his thoughts, or choosing that exact moment to engage in conversation with another operator.
He could say that observing the Endministrator was less of a deviance in his movements, and more of a sidestep he had incorporated into his routine on the Dijiang.
Following the Endmin’s movements was especially favorable for him when aboard the Dijiang. He had taken advantage of cruising the ceiling mostly for convenient traversal onboard the ship, preferring not to be accosted by some of the more chatty operators down below.
The last time Camille had decided to take a stroll on the lower half of the ship, he had made the acquaintance of a young Lung lady dressed in blue. She had done the motions of staring him down despite her shorter stature, frowning and gazing up at him determinedly while gesturing at his blood halo.
“Hey, what’s up with the halo? Are you a Sankta or something? We don’t get a lot of you around here.”
She had said, reaching out and stopping short of its outline.
Camille had chuckled, and only needed to angle his chin slightly upwards for it to be out of her reach. This had seemed to fluster her a bit, to which her white-haired companion had giggled and offered her apologies to him on her behalf.
“Camille, was it? One of the Keepers of Wisdom. I recall Endmin bringing you here quite a while ago now. You must forgive Chen, she can be a little forthcoming at times.”
“Can’t a girl be curious, Perlica?” Chen had replied, crossing her arms and letting out an indignant scoff.
“Mr. Camille here is a Sarkaz, not a Sankta. Naturally, that would mean he’s affiliated with Seš'qa.” Perlica had said.
Camille had smiled and held out his hand to both of them.
“Yes, you have that right. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
The Sarkaz identity laid upon most of its people akin to tears in cloth, rimmed in blood and broken promises, impossible to miss throughout the weave of history’s loom. From the distant lands of Terra to Talos-II, the name itself carried unsavory connotations hard to mend.
However, with the establishment of the Band Accord, there were improving efforts to repair such impressions within the Talosian population. A Keeper especially would know of the extent of Seš'qamam efforts in societal reintegration, for hunting down their own kind proved to be a difficult job for other Sarkaz citizens.
Due to the need of reparations in mind, Camille wasn’t sure if being mistaken for another kind was any more a slight than it was a relief. Jakub Meissen’s transgressions against the Civilization Band had blighted upon their reputation, but perhaps the younger Sarkaz generation may no longer need to be as wary of their own identity being used against them.
Centuries-old prophecies and generational curses served to be a far heavier carry for the Sarkaz people. The voice of an unknown seer rings in Camille’s ears.
The prophecy draws nigh. Brothers destined to reunite shall meet once more, a sea of blood in the hour where light and dark intersect…
Camille shook his head. He willed himself to recall the Endmin’s voice instead, fresh after his last encounter with Char.
“For now, try not to worry too much about Char, nor the prophecy. We’ll come back to that in due time.”
Despite the improved vantage point traversing the ceiling offered him, Camille was finding the task of locating the Endministrator a bit more difficult as of late. As such, upon calling out to him, Camille had expected him to disappear out of his sight, zipping through halls and doorways invisible to all but him.
However, much to his relief, he spotted the slight lilt in the Endministrator’s gait.
The Endministrator turned around and looked up towards Camille’s suspended figure. He was holding several blueprints and loose folios strapped to his front, seemingly a little frazzled from his daily walking, but he shot him a grin.
“Camille.”
“I’ve been looking for you.” Camille said, dropping down from above to stand beside the Endministrator.
It had been a while since he was able to speak to the Endmin, perhaps a little more than a few weeks. He had been making it a point to visit Dijiang after his duties. He’d wanted to take some time to chat with the Endministrator about a slight conundrum he’d been having.
“I hope I’m not taking your time, Endmin.” Camille said, relieved that he had finally gotten the Endministrator’s attention.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s about time I took a rest.” The Endmin replied. Camille thought the Endmin ought to have been resting more often recently.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reciprocate your approaches these last few days.”
He had noticed. The thought of it caused Camille to frown slightly.
“I thought you hadn’t noticed me.”
The Endministrator laughed, perhaps noticing how needlessly perplexed Camille had acted at being exposed.
“Camille, it’s easy to notice you when you walk several feet above everyone else here. They just need to look up, which I believe happens quite often.”
“Is that so?”
“Even while up there, you command attention by turning the ceiling into a personal catwalk, yes.”
Were vampire mannerisms not so synonymous to covertness after all? If Seš'qa’s awareness of his hunt for Char had embarrassed him, the knowledge that Endmin, and possibly most operators onboard, had been willingly aware of Camille tailing him had him feeling abashed.
It wasn’t any less exacerbated by the comment the Endmin had made about his walking habits.
“I… see. I apologize. But I must say that it is far more convenient for me to walk on the upside rather than the downside.” Camille remarked.
“No worries,” the Endmin replied, accidentally dropping a folio and picking it back up with his other arm full. Camille stepped towards the Endmin, taking some of his blueprints from his bent arm. He noticed the stray strands of uncombed hair. It wasn’t like the Endmin to look so disheveled.
It also wasn’t like him to complain about it, not at all. Something about his looks, even when slightly untidy, made him come across as naturally dashing to Camille.
“Thank you, Camille. Let’s have a chat in my office.”
The overhead lights glared as Camille settled into the Endministrator’s office. It was a moderately-sized space, containing a sleek, black hardwood desk and two gray leather sofas accompanying it in front. An ergonomic office chair stood behind the desk along with two steel filing cabinets further back. A small pantry was installed in the far corner next to a dining table with two stackable plastic chairs.
There were only two oddities Camille could make out in the Endmin’s office. The first one was a pantry door left ajar, displaying stacks of instant ramen in different flavors piled up with a polished silver electric kettle set in the corner inside. The second one was the lack of decorations in his office, save for a pot of buckflowers the Endmin seemed to be cultivating himself on his desk.
Camille turned to look at the Endministrator, who had set down his documents on the table and settled down in his office chair.
“Excessive ramen consumption isn’t ideal for your health.” Camille noted, remembering how some of even his near-immortal companions from Seš'qa in the past had done repeated visits to the medics after getting a hold of processed food.
The Endministrator looked over to the pantry, and scratched the tip of his nose. Was he embarrassed?
“Indeed. I’ve been forgetting to eat ramen lately, though. Sometimes I get the urge to just pop a block into my mouth with boiling water… you know, have it cooked and ready to eat on the way to the next facility that needs my checking.”
“Surely that cannot be good for you as well?”
“I jest, Camille.”
The Endministrator was a dear friend to Camille, and he didn’t believe any quirk his friend would show over time could ever drive him away. He had to admit, however, that some things the Endmin said were quite unexpected even so.
“So, Camille, what brings you here to me today?” The Endmin asked.
Camille cleared his throat.
“Endministrator… we’ve been confidantes for some time now, I believe.” he said, walking over and tracing his gloved hand over the blueprints Endmin had left on the table.
Endmin nodded. He picked up a series of reports stacked on the desk that he rifled through, in a way that belied purpose rather than mere absentminded habit.
“Yes. Is there any reason to believe otherwise, Camille?”
“No, but there have been a few questions on my mind regarding the nature of our relationship.”
Of course, it was impossible to see the emotion that had to have flitted across Endmin’s gaze at that moment. If Camille should indulge himself, perhaps the Endministrator had an intrigued look at best, a bemused look at worst.
The Endmin set down the stack of reports he had been holding and turned to look fully at him.
“What questions, Camille?”
What questions — which ones, Camille thought to himself. The rate of Endmin-related questions that were formulating in his head outpaced the speed of the newly upgraded production lines. He had marvelled at how fast things seemed to be upgrading in the bases, which perhaps served as the driving force behind the Endmin’s recent engagements.
There is something I want to ask. How much should one tell a friend about themselves? I can only surmise how much I should be telling you.
The Endmin sensed his rumination and set down his arms on the table in front of him, propping his head up on his hands. “Camille, no need to be so uptight. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Years of etiquette training administered by his parents have prepared him only a little for being put on the spot with the Endministrator, who seemed infallible. It was one thing to speak in front of Sarkaz aristocrats, another in front of other Keepers and officials during his status reports with Seš'qa. He wagered whether speaking succinctly would do him any good.
“Endmin, what constitutes our friendship? Although I am eternally grateful for your company, I remain slightly puzzled as to the exact boundaries that exist within our communications.”
From across him, the Endmin’s head tilted the slightest bit, as if he had not expected that question, but a knowing smile crept up on his lips not long after. He leaned forward on his office chair, clasping his hands together and fixing Camille with what he imagined to be a bright gaze.
“For a man occasionally so eloquent and flattering with his words, you sure can sound transactional.” Endmin said to him.
“Eloquent and flattering? I believe I only speak concisely, but… perhaps my upbringing has led me to be inclined to something of the sort, regardless.”
“Speaking concisely, huh. That’s actually reassuring.” The Endmin remarked softly. He continued to stare at Camille behind his mask.
“Do you remember what I told you while we were staking out Char, Camille? When we were in that Landbreaker lair.”
Camille nodded his head. How could he forget? After his close encounter with Char’s trap, he had decided to tell the Endmin a little bit about himself. He wasn’t sure of it back then, but he was relieved to know that it had been the right move at the time.
“You told me you couldn’t explain it well, but you described that feeling of having to become more vulnerable for a weight to be lifted off your shoulders.”
“Of course. What about it?”
“I had told you then that it was good to open up like that, to build up trust and friendship. You said it yourself. We’re confidantes, so our friendship includes everything on your mind that needs to be expressed.” Endmin said, seemingly taking some time to think as he tried to find the right words.
“Even if it is of no particular significance to me, you are free to share any thought that occurs to you… with me.”
Camille had presumed as much. He had conveyed a similar sentiment to the Endministrator several days after the confrontation with Char. He had told his dear friend that his blood would accompany him until he could no longer wield his own life force by his side.
He then realized that he had been doing what the Endministrator had asked him to do all along. Since that time, he had not been short of earnestly expressing his thoughts to his Seš'qa-mandated colleague-turned-friend. He had shown the Endmin just how much his friendship meant to him. How his presence served as a morale boost on the Dijiang, how exemplary of a leader he was. How he treasured the memories they had made so far and will continue to make.
So that led Camille back to the question of why he had fretted over what it meant to be friends with the Endministrator. There seemed to be something laying deeper beneath that he couldn’t quite put a name to yet, and in truth, it was this unnamed enigma that prompted him to seek out a recap of their status quo. Had he not been speaking sincerely enough?
“Did you fear that I wouldn’t be amicable to your more intimate thoughts?” Endmin asked, pulling him out of his contemplation. There was another one of his slight grins tugging at the end of his lips.
Camille’s eyes widened just an inch. Intimate. What an interesting choice of phrasing. He wondered whether that was intentional.
“Is that a double entendre, Endmin?” He questioned back, emphasizing the accent and offering a subdued grin of his own. To Camille, the layers of clothing he wore suddenly felt a little stifling.
The Endministrator exhaled, before giving a small chuckle. It would seem they were both well aware of these incessant niceties as a substantial part of their friendship.
“It is what you make of it.”
A moment of silence stretched out between them both before a yawn perforated the air, which came from none other than Endmin. Just a moment ago, the Endministrator had shown his usual formal demeanor during their talk. Now, he seemed to be a little more distracted, slouching down on his chair and staring at the ceiling. Camille observed, once more, the remnant of a smile on his face. It came across to him as slightly smug.
He had rarely seen this side of the Endministrator. Disheveled and slack, quite unlike the demeanor the figurehead of Endfield Industries should have. It was a different facet of the confident, altruistic man Seš'qa had delivered to his side to help with his troubles.
Nothing could turn me away from you, it seems. Sometimes I feel like I’m being pulled even closer in.
He walked behind Endmin’s office chair and looked down upon his relaxed figure. The Endmin stared right back up at him, and Camille imagined an inquisitive look on his face.
“Endmin, thank you for making time for me. You must rest. Sleep for a moment.”
An idea struck Camille at that moment. He felt the same rush of initiative he had felt that day when he told the Endmin about his intent to stay by his side permanently. He remembered how he didn’t let go of the Endmin’s hand so easily, relishing the feel of his hand squeezing against his own.
He once again wished to express his gratitude towards the Endministrator. Camille reached out his right hand once again to Endmin, this time threading his fingers in between the strands of Endmin’s disheveled hair. He didn’t suppose Endmin kept to a hair care regimen unlike he did, but his hair looked to be quite silky and soft to the touch. He couldn’t help but caress it a little bit more.
Camille hadn’t particularly observed how the Endmin was taking his ministrations until the latter let out a hum. He tilted his head in the direction of his hand, and it looked to Camille like the Endmin’s breathing had slowed a bit.
“Hmm… Camille.”
The Endmin suddenly sat upright and stood up, turning around to grab Camille’s right hand with his left and wrap his fingers around it. Camille’s breath had hitched only the tiniest bit, and he felt the warmth that radiated from the grip the Endmin was holding him with. It was warm enough to seep through the thick leather of his gloves.
He let go of Camille’s hand, nodding at him with a serene smile.
“You’re right. I’ll be taking this time to rest. See you around.”
Camille wanted to reply, but the Endministrator exited the room without so much as taking the pile of blueprints and folios he left behind, leaving him to stand in the same place behind his colleague’s office chair.
Being so attuned to his own blood meant that he had a heightened awareness of quickened pulsing somewhere inside his chest — and with the lack of pain radiating from his back, Camille had little reason to suspect that this feeling was from his scar.