Breathing, Wanting

Stupid stupid. Of course not everyone could afford a rain-shield, but did they have to be in such a rush?

Brei glared daggers at the boy who’d slammed into her, massaging the throbbing wrist she’d landed on. And abruptly noticed the unnaturally lilac hair and golden eyes. A Divination? That Divination?

“Oh Reyahn are you both alright?” Celaph gasped from across the bakery, other stunned customers watching, frozen.

“I would be if I hadn’t just been run over. Do you have a habit of running into people, or are you just defective?” She snapped, attempting to push herself up and looking around for the bag she’d dropped even as the baker disentangled herself from the counter and her customers. The pastries she’d intended to bring were probably ruined, thanks to this damned construct—

“I’m sorry, miss.” A hand appeared in front of her, a soft voice bringing her up short.

She peered up in disbelief to find the construct, of all people, offering her a hand. Divinations tended to be as sorry as a rock was for tripping up some unsuspecting sap out on a walk, and this one was actively offering her a hand? Maybe Hafest was a better person than Seih gave him credit for.

Eyeing him for a long moment, she bit back on all the sarcastic, biting comments she could have made. For a Divination, he seemed genuinely sorry. So, pushing down her pride, she took it. “...Thank you.”

His eyes actually tightened, a hint of strain on his face as he pulled her gently but firmly up. And she wouldn’t have noticed it if she wasn’t watching so closely, but the right one seemed to have something wrong with it, its glow stuttering slightly.

He also swayed dangerously as soon as he let go, and the rest of her annoyance did an abrupt turnabout as she grabbed at him to keep him steady. “Oh Light are you actually damaged?”

Of course he was. That flicker in his eye indicated that some connection was faulty. Had he fallen that hard? If he had then she would probably get the blame from his master for damaging him, despite the fact he’d run into her.

“No.” The construct pulled away from her, taking a mostly steady step to the side and scooping up the pastry bag she’d dropped, thrusting it at her. “Here. Your items.”

She stared at him for a good, long minute, taking in the slim, almost twiggy twelve-ish looking child subtly and clearly not doing great in the balance department, with a damaged eye to boot, and decided that was a lie if she’d ever heard one.

He seemed to take her analysis as suspicion on the pastry angle. “If they are too damaged for your liking I can pay for replacements.”

“Oh I’m so sorry— no no no it’s alright, if they’re damaged I’ll just take those ones and give you some fresh ones, dear,” Celaph hurried over, distraught, and took the bag from the Divination’s grasp as he obligingly turned to her. Whatever she saw inside made her click her tongue. “I’ll get some more right away.”

Brei let herself be guided firmly back towards the counter, the other woman practically scooping the Divination along with her, the most befuddled expression she’d ever seen on one of the stoic constructs painted across his face. “Are you both alright? That was quite the tumble. You seem out of sorts, Winds—I hope that master of yours isn’t pushing you too hard again.”

Oh, that’s right. His name is Winds, isn’t it?

“...I’ll be fine.”

They both ended up deposited in front of the polished countertop, Celaph’s daughter already setting aside more pastries as she smiled and chatted to the other customers.

Brei gave Winds a sideways look, appraising the shorter construct as he stared dead ahead, his left eye glowing steadily, and visibly. He’d bumped into her once, despite obviously knowing she was there, and now he’d run full-tilt into her, obviously displaying some serious calibration issues. A little fall wouldn’t hurt a Divination like that unless it was defective.

“Did you hit your head?” She asked.

He looked at her. “No.”

She rolled her eyes. “Before you ran into me.”

And he looked away, his expression so carefully neutral that it wasn’t. Oh my Light he’s easy to read. Who designed him? Where is his creator? Or— A lightning bolt struck her, shooting down the full length of her spine. “Have you ever had your soulcore wiped?”

“What?” He leaned back from her, and she hastily dialled back the intensity, holding herself back from steadying him as he wobbled slightly on his feet. “...No. I haven’t.”

Oh Reyahn.

He was a baby. That explained it: that undimmed glow in his eyes unlike all the dull gazes of every other construct she was forced to work with, the more... alive look. He’d never had his personality forcibly reset. Or else he was older and lucky enough that Hafest had never bothered to reset him for some imagined offence caused by the quirks that tended to pop up, but those were rare, and she’d never met one, maybe, possibly— “How old are you?”

“Here you are, dear, fresh and ready for the journey. Don’t forget to give your father my well-wishes, now,” Caleph’s cheery voice and the new bag being slid towards her interrupted Winds’ blank-faced stare. “And what’s your master after today, Winds?”

Damn it all. Now she couldn’t question him. I was probably too pushy, anyhow. With a mental sigh, she smiled and thanked Caleph for the pastries, only hesitating briefly before making her way more cautiously out the door into the light rain that had started up.

I can see why Seih was interested in him, she mused as she tapped at her crown, her watershield activating and sending droplets scattering around her in a neat little bubble. Technically she didn’t need the physical gesture, but it helped her concentrate on materialising it. One of the good things about spending her time working with constructs and elemental conduits—inbetween the patient-care end of the internship, anyway—was that she got to make her own at a much cheaper price than it would take to buy one.

Mm, Seih.... He’d probably been more interested in whatever political side of things had been going through his mind, though.

Or maybe not. I’m probably not being fair to him. She sighed, picking her way along the slickening stones, her shield half-dampening them as it pushed the water away, but not enough to completely dry her path. Seih was a people-person, and always had been—he’d probably wanted to talk the ear off the poor Divination.

She could remember when his own hand had been the one held out to her, after all.... And if he hadn’t, they wouldn’t be where they were now. Or, well, where they had been before she slammed a metaphorical door in his face.

Her eyes wandered along the seams between stones, carefully staying out of the way of others hurrying along the streets. Their conversation the other day had not gone well. And that was... yes, it was partly her fault. Does he always have to be so.... She puffed out a breath. Him, though?

Sighing, she picked up her pace, tucking the edges of her cardigan closer around herself as the chill of the rain cooled the air. I’ll talk to him later. We can make up like we always do.

Maybe after a bit of a break, though. After all, ever since all of this had started, it had been philosophical pondering this, “the end is inevitable” that. She was getting sick of it, especially from Seih.

But... he had just been kicked out of the council—temporarily—for his speech urging them to quit their talk and start putting some action in. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Her fingers tightened around the handle of the bag as she turned into a gondolier station, her shield flicking the rain off a leaf as she mounted the steps, smiling at the staffer and handing a few kernels over.

As she sat down in the streamlined, partially-occupied cabin next to another woman—who looked like she was locked in Soulspace, from the blank stare—and watched the world outside drop away, trundling down to the edge of the city, she couldn’t help but wonder. Dad was leaving, Seih was immobilised. And what are you doing, Brei? Are you going to sit here and hope someone does something?

For all her yelling at Seih about doing nothing and all her yelling at Dad for doing the wrong thing... what was she doing? What could she even do to make things right again?

She sighed, slipping a pastry out, and bit into it.

How were you supposed to bring normal back, at the end of the world?