Chapter Text
A cycle had passed of the slugcats traveling through the complex, towards the canopies once connected to the fallen superstructure nearby. It was made somewhat difficult with the Artificer’s healing wound, though they had persisted through the bustle of predator and prey always scampering through the factories. They were nearing the gate.
“You are aware of the gates location, correct?” Saint asked as they crawled through yet another set of pipes.
“Mmhm.” The Artificer grunted, pushing herself around a corner. “Used to go through it all the time. S’karma three, though probably- doesn’t matter.”
“Indeed.” Saint confirmed. “I am naturally incapable of disconnecting from karma. In the ancients values, I am permanently at the tenth symbol.”
“Hm.” She acknowledged. “… Are you- not struggling back there? Feel like I’m being- crushed trying to crawl through here.”
“Not particularly.” He affirmed. “I am approximately sixty-four percent fluff by volume.”
“You’ve counted?”
“No. I have guessed.” He corrected, an amused smile in his voice.
The Artificer snorted slightly in laughter. “Funny. Tunnel ends up ahead.”
The two clambered out into open air atop the facility roofs, the Artificer stretching her arms as she stood. Saint examined the still-covered wound in her side.
“How is the wound today?” Saint asked her.
“… Fine.” She affirmed, raising her arm to look at the wrapping. “Still hurts, n’my legs a bit weak in a spot, but overall good.”
Saint nodded. “It’d be preferable to change the bandages soon. I don’t imagine you want decayed plant matter in your bloodstream.”
“… No, not really.” She confirmed. “I’ll keep my eyes out, I guess.”
They started walking again, across the many crumbling bridges spanning various types of steel architecture. Graffiti, likely some by the scavengers, began to dot and color the walls.
“… Could trade with the scavs.” The Artificer suggested as they traveled. “For some bandages, so we don’t have to makeshift em’.”
“With what resources, might I ask?” Saint inquired.
“I mean, I generate explosives.” She reminded him. “It’ll take some negotiating, but I think a bomb or two makes up for that price.”
“… You’re sure?” Saint asked her. “I don’t want you putting yourself in danger or discomfort.”
“… I’m sure. It’ll be fine.” She assured him. “I dunno if there are any tolls, but there should be a base somewhere.”
Saint nodded. They set out with that goal in mind, keeping their eyes out for signs of their packs or tolls.
At some point, the Artificer perked up. She stood and looked around the room for scavengers.
“They’re nearby.” She said firmly.
“Can you be that sure?” Saint inquired.
“When you fight a specific group of creatures for long enough, you start noticing stuff.” She answered, still looking around. “I can basically smell them. Don’t hear anything yet, but they’re near.”
She seemed to note a certain pattern of carvings on the wall and start forward determinedly. Saint hurried after her.
“Be careful, Arti.” Saint said gently. “You could scare them.”
She paused from her tracking.
“… Fair. Thanks.” She said, glancing back at him. “… Genuinely.”
Saint smiled at her. “You’re welcome.”
They moved a bit more through the caverns, the Artificer taking care to avoid scowling or seeming tense. Eventually, they crawled through a tunnel and into another cavern. A group of four scavengers were idling about in the room, seemingly checking for resources.
“Would you like me to do the talking?” Saint asked as they stood, a short distance away from the pack.
“… Just… try to…” She gave a sort of sigh. Then she seemed to steel herself. “… Just… be there for me, y’know? Like you… usually are.”
The phrasing made Saint’s heart flutter for… something adjacent to the usual reasons. Nonetheless, he nodded.
The Artificer approached, the Saint just behind and to her side.
“… Hello?” The Artificer asked, loud enough for the pack to hear.
A scavenger facing away from them turned to find the sound’s source. Their fur was an ashen black, with horns a slightly lighter grey. Behind a dull red vulture mask, brilliant green and blue eyes glinted.
They started as they saw the Artificer, pulling a spear from their back and pointing it at her. She raised her hands slightly in a gesture of peace.
It was still for a moment.
“… Everyone. Over here.” The scavenger ordered to their companions. Their voice was gravelly, but high enough to imply them to be female. It wasn’t unlike the Artificer’s voice.
The other three scavengers turned around. Two tensed and stepped back. One drew a spear.
“… Artificer.” The elite scavenger acknowledged.
“… yeah. That’s me.” The Artificer affirmed, a touch bitterly. “I’m here to trade.”
The scavenger stared at her for a moment.
“… Saint, right?” The elite asked, briefly gesturing to him. “Your friend?”
“… yeah. Don’t know how y’all communicate that fast, but yeah.” She confirmed. “Also unarmed.”
The elite was silent. She glanced around for a moment.
“… What’s the trade?” She asked.
“… Healing supplies.” She answered, a little uncertainly. “Like- bandages. Saint, do you- have specifics-?”
“Bandages, woven of plant fibers like batnip and popcorn stalks.” Saint specified, stepping forward. “If that is not available, standard leather or lizard or vulture skin will do.”
“Why?” Piped up a scavenger behind the elite.
“Motherf*cker, use your eyes, I took a king vulture horn to the side.” The Artificer spat, raising her right arm briefly.
“The wound is covered in somewhat makeshift wrappings of popcorn stalk.” Saint added for clarification, hoping to avoid a scavenger missing the wrapping due to its coloring being similar to her skin.
The elite paused. Her vision flickered between the Artificer and the Saint for a moment. She seemed to be in deep thought.
“… Oh, and- uh… I’ll make some of your spears explosive.” The Artificer added. “That’s- that’s my side of the trade.”
The elite thought for another moment.
She muttered a curse under her breath.
“… Okay. I’ll bite.” She said. “Gonna cost you two spears, though.”
“Works for me.”
The scavenger nodded. She glanced to the most armed scavenger behind her and nodded her head to the side in a gesture to move.
“… You want me to walk my ass back to the stronghold for healing supplies for her?” The scavenger muttered in protest.
“Yes, I do, jackass. We need the firepower.” She spat back.
“Then she better be making every spear we have explosive!” They retorted.
“Do you know how a f*cking trade works?” The elite hissed. “She won’t take that. Not like we have the f*cking time anyway. Get moving.”
The scavenger cursed and started away.
The intervening silence was staggeringly uncomfortable.
At some point, the scavengers lowered their weapons and merely stood, tensed.
“… Should I- like… start modifying those spears by now?” The Artificer asked tentatively.
The elite sighed. “… Sure. Whatever.” She tossed her spear haphazardly at the Artificer, which she caught and began to gnaw on.
Once the spear had been modified, she held it in her hands for a moment. She started slowly towards the scavengers.
“Just- toss me the spear for f*cks sake.” The elite ordered. “Not enough time in a cycle for all this bullsh*t.”
The Artificer took a moment to process.
“… I- I don’t-”
The scavenger walked up, snatched the spear from her hands, took another one from her back, pressed it into the Artificer’s hands, and walked back to her pack. She placed the spear on her back and turned back to them, arms crossed. One scavenger behind her looked in disbelief, while the other nodded slowly in some form of respect.
The Artificer, again, paused for a moment.
The other scavenger returned with the bandages and got the attention of the elite. She gestured toward the slugcats with her spear. The scavenger tossed the roll of bandages to them, which Saint caught. He judged it to be woven of webbing from the insects clustered inside pinecones, plus some other things, surprisingly skillfully. He nodded to them in thanks.
The Artificer finished modifying the next spear. She paused a moment, looking around cautiously, before lightly tossing the weapon to the elite. She caught it and passed it to the nearest scavenger.
“… Thanks.” The Artificer said.
“Mmhm.” The elite acknowledged. She turned to the rest of the pack. “Let’s go.”
The scavengers funneled into a nearby tunnel and disappeared from view.
The slugcats continued on their journey, after a brief discussion of how to store the bandages. To avoid possibly lining them with explosive material and causing the Artificer to detonate once applied, she took the lantern in her stomach pouch and Saint stored the bandages.
The unique scenario with the scavengers seemed to take up the larger part of the Artificer’s mind, judging by her constant look of somewhat puzzled thought. Saint couldn’t deny the situation was intriguing. The elite seemed to hold a specific kind of… hateful, coarse empathy towards the crimson slugcat. It was like an odd, twisted mirror. And, to add, Saint was unsure if she’d ever seen a scavenger show such outward disregard of her. Not the best emotion to be treated with, but it was preferable to being feared like an unkillable force of nature. To her, at least.
“… Gate should be up there.” The Artificer remarked, pointing to a a specific, short tower extending up from the bridge they were walking along.
“That’s good.” Saint affirmed. “Are you more familiar with the canopy, perhaps?”
“Mmhm. S’where I hung around after I… left the metropolis…” She confirmed. “There’s a shelter right up from the gate, easy as can be.”
The two clambered into the strut, covered in claw marks of battling lizards. A brief climb later, a shimmy through another upward pipe, and they were at the gate.
Saint could feel his senses pinging angrily as he went through the gate. The call of the void was beginning to grow angry with his diversions.
The first room was closed off to the sky, an upward tunnel leading to the ground that made the base of the canopy. Two poles led up and out, which they each climbed.
“… Saint, have you…” The Artificer began, hanging off the pole to look down at him. “Ever been to the canopy?”
“No.” He answered. “In fact, I have never been to these facility grounds at all, before now, I might remind you.”
She nodded slowly, seeming like she was trying to figure out how to word some unpleasant news.
“Well…” She said as she started climbing again, reaching the tunnel out. “It’s kinda a mess up here. Get ready.” She disappeared into the tunnel.
“I’m sure it will be-”
The Artificer scrambled back out of the shaft right as a king vultures horn slammed straight through it, audibly breaking rusted metal and tearing electrical wires.
“… Wanna revise that?” The Artificer asked dully, staring at the spear tip inches away from her.
“… I’ll stay on guard.” Saint said, a little concerned.
She nodded. “Good. Wait a bit, this idiot’ll leave eventually.”
After a short wait (and two more horns fired through the metal ceiling), the monarch left. They climbed out, into a rectangular metal tunnel and into a shelter a little larger than usual.
The locks fell into place as the Artificer laid down. Saint asked her to wait.
“I’d like to check your wound, if you don’t mind.” Saint reminded her. He had already retrieved the scavenger’s gift from his stomach.
“Oh, yeah. Got it.” She crawled over and sat down with her wounded side facing him.
“… It’s healing nicely.” Saint noted. “Raise your arm, please. The wrappings will feel a bit odd, in advance.”
She nodded and obliged. Saint began to redress her wound.
“… Hey, uh… Thanks, by the- way.” The Artificer murmured. “For… all this.”
“… For caring for your wound?” He asked, a little puzzled.
“…Yeah.”
“… You’re welcome, though…” He replied. “You’ve already thanked me.”
“… Just a… reminder, I guess.” She mumbled.
Saint looked at her for a moment.
“… Thank you.” He said as he continued wrapping her wound. “I appreciate the care.”
After some time, he finished covering the gash. He sat up, briefly examined it, and then nodded.
“You are free to go.” He said with a smile.
“… Thanks.” She murmured.
She crawled back over to her side of the shelter and laid down. Saint did the same, pawing the ground for a moment. Though, when he laid down, he noticed an odd expression on the Artificer’s face. Something like… disgruntled longing. He’d seen something similar the last time they’d slept, as well.
“… Is something wrong?” Saint asked her.
“… no.” She said quietly. She closed her eye and readjusted. “I’m fine.” Her voice was rather convincing, though not enough for Saint.
He had a thought. A memory, of when she asked to lay closer to him after he’d cared for her wound.
He considered for a moment.
“… Would you mind if I lay closer?” Saint asked politely.
She opened her eye, quiet for a bit.
“… closer to me?” She asked. He nodded. She looked to the side for a second.
“…no.”
Saint smiled, trotted to her side and laid down, similar to how they had laid on the night of healing. He smiled contentedly and got comfortable next to her.
“Night, Arti.” He said quietly and happily. “Sleep well.”
“… Night, Saint.” She returned. “… you too.” A small kind of happy contentment lay in her voice when she said that.
Thought that made Saint want to smile wider, he knew he would likely not sleep too well.
He could feel the void pulling at him as he drifted to sleep.
The Saint opened their eyes in the blackness. A void worm hovered over them; eyes narrowed slightly in terse, formal dissatisfaction.
“… Hello. Saint, is it?” Radiated a stern, formal, bellowing voice, digitized and seemingly pitched down, but occasionally pitched up, screaming and whispering, with a thousand voices layered atop one another clashing and melding into one choral mix of sound. The voice of a void worm, spoken not in static, but in word. Radiated into the Saint’s mind.
“… Yes, it is. Greetings. I must thank you for your politeness.” The Saint said with a grateful nod.
“Don’t think my speaking of your tongue is agreeing with your claims.” The chorus sounded out.
“… Is there an addendum to that statement, or…?” Saint prompted.
“We are getting to the point.” The worm stated firmly. “You know why you are here.”
“… Well, not exactly.” Saint disagreed gently. “You are not the cycle I inhabit.”
“No, I am not. As well being an elder, if you hadn’t noticed.” The chorus added sternly.
“… Yes, that too.” Saint said, unimpressed. “So, I suppose I am being “disciplined”?”
“You are being warned.” The god-serpent corrected. “You aggravate the very space you inhabit. You mock and push off the worms complaints. You know they are young and brash.”
“Young is no excuse for a worm, my friend. Not when young is a thousand cycles.” Saint replied. “And, might I ask, what does that matter?”
“Do not play dumb with me!” The chorus bellowed, static briefly rising in the back of Saint’s mind.
“... I wasn’t aware “playing dumb” constituted not jumping straight to blasphemy.” The Saint retorted tersely. “Is that what you imply?”
“Yes, you blasted fool!” The worm roared.
“Well, then, I’ve got a complaint to the current elders of the worms!” The Saint yelled back. “Who allowed this worm to become so thoroughly arrogant that they’d leap to heresy due to a mere delay in a task that isn’t theirs?!”
“THAT IS IRRELEVANT!!” The chorus bellowed. “YOU WOULD HAVE THEM CALL UPON RUBICON FOR A MERE-!?!”
“Do not speak of her.” The undoer interjected.
“SHE- HEATHEN YOU- INSOLENT-!!!” The god-serpent roared, its anger causing its voice to occasionally cut into the cascading, crushing static that made their natural tongue.
The Saint stared for a moment. Both to let the worm process their own words and to calm their building rage.
“… Come here.” The Saint requested, though it was more of an order. The worms eyes zipped over to them through no will of their own.
They opened their eyes and stared into the worms.
“I want to be incredibly clear.” They said tersely. “I will not abandon her. I will not do my task with pragmatism or whatever you claim to be efficient. And you will not refer to her in any capacity if you’d like to speak on matters that are not your concern. Are we clear?”
“YOU THINK YOU CAN-?!”
“This meeting is over.”
The Saint snapped their fingers and broke themself from the dream.
