Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: The Monastery

As written by Rōnin

"Hm?" Savien snapped out of his trance as she asked them the question, "what, me? I'm fine. Perfectly fine." He straightened his posture and cleared his throat. The knight looked down at her, a smile touching his lips. "You, on the other hand..." He unbuckled the straps and lifted the helmet off her chin. "There. Too big for you anyhow." He rested the helmet under his arm.

The doors opened and they entered, Savien swiftly pushing a button for the second floor. He swallowed.

"I'm going to take you to the dormitories," he explained, "get you set up with a bed and-" He paused as the elevator jolted into motion, reaching his hand out to the wall for support. "-ah. Yes. A bed. A shower too. I'll get a robe sent up to you and have your clothes washed."
 
As written by Peachy00Keen

Pandora studied him. She'd never seen him shaken (granted, she had known him for barely 24 hours), but it seemed odd, coming from him. She leaned against him, broad in his armor, in an effort to offer him what comfort she could. She squeezed his hand that was still holding hers and tried to give him a reassuring smile.

"That sounds lovely," she said to him. She looked down at her feet and drew an imaginary circle on the floor with the toe of her boot. "Actually, I was hoping I could, just, talk to you, in private..." She felt her face getting hot again and continued to stare intently at the floor. "I mean," she added hurriedly, "if you have somewhere to be or something to do, that's fine, I understand... I just... I have a lot of questions and I was hoping that maybe you had some answers." She glanced up at him briefly. He still looked worried, but maybe a little less than when they had first stepped into the elevator. She squeezed his hand again and leaned against his arm a little.
 
As written by Rōnin

Savien seemed to regain his composure as the elevator dinged to the desired floor. He walked out with Pandora into a well-lit hallway. The walls were cobblestone, the windows stained glass. The place was devoid of extravagant decor, furnished only now and then with a spartan table or a simple but beautiful picture of some shining ensconced in a simple, wooden frame. It was much warmer here.

"I have a patrol later tonight," he acquiesced, "but I have a few hours before I'm due out." He nodded. "I'd be happy to keep you company, until then?" He adjusted the leather strap banding over his breastplate. "You must have a lot of questions. I can't guarantee that I can answer them all, but I can try."
 
As written by Peachy00Keen

Pandora sighed deeply as a wave of warm air washed against her. Savien hadn't seemed to notice much of anything in the elevator.
They proceeded down the hall a little ways before turning into a small, sparsely furnished room. She looked around at the bare walls and small window, which looked out over trees. In the corner of the room was a little cot. It reminded her of her own. Pandora ran to it, letting go of the cloak, still tied around her shoulders, and threw herself down on the tiny bed. The massive cloak billowed around her when she landed. It didn't smell like home, nor did it sound like home, but the bed gave the same meager amount of comfort to the person lying on it. Amidst the luxury of this strange place, she had been brought to a tiny corner that, if she closed her eyes, Pandora could almost pretend she was home.

She sat up on the cot, curling her arms and legs around the pillow and pulling the cloak around herself like a blanket. She looked to Savien, who had taken a seat across the room in a wooden chair.

"You're so far away, I'll have to shout if I'm to say anything to you from that distance."

Pandora sighed.

"I'm not sure how many questions I really have or how long they'll take, but I'll try to fit them into your time." Pandora sighed, weary, and buried her face in the pillow, still sitting up. She leaned back against the wall and a shiver went through her body as her mind filled with the countless unanswered questions that needed to be asked. To many, she feared she did not want to know the answer.
 
As written by Rōnin

Savien smiled, resting his helmet on the table and pulling the chair closer to her cot. There was something amusing at the sight of her, wrapped in his great red cloak, peeking out from the fabric. For all her hardiness and strength, there was a certain innocence to her. It was refreshing to see.

"How about I ask you some questions first?" he offered, "sometimes that helps." He brought up one of his legs and rested it on his knee. "Like... where you're from? What language you naturally speak?" His brows furrowed. "Your last memory, perhaps?"
 
As written by Peachy00Keen

"Well," she began, surprised by the turn of conversation; "I'm from..." She paused. She couldn't remember the name of her home. Pandora furrowed her brow and tried again. "My people's language is..." she trailed off again. Why couldn't she remember anything.

Growing more and more uncomfortable with the gaps in her memory, she began to fidget with the straps of her armor, unbuckling and untying the plates from around her arms and torso while under the cover of the massive cloak. Her motions became more aggressive and she struggled to remember the names of her home and her language. She couldn't remember her parents' names either. Or her favorite yak. It could have been something that started with an S... or maybe a Z...? Her face grew red with frustration and she chucked one of her shoulder plates across the room with a yowl.

"I don't remember any of the names -- of anything!" She flung another piece of armor. "I don't remember the name of the mountains," a vambrace flew across the room next, "or my village," another vambrace, "or my parents or my yaks or my language or anything!" Her words were interrupted by a staccato of clacks and thuds as her pieces of armor flew across the room and hit the walls and floor. By the time her tantrum was finished, the room was littered with some dozen pieces of armor, knives, and decoration, and Pandora was breathing heavily, her face as red as the cloak that now slung half off one of her shoulders. She sat there, seething in her minimalistic under-armor sash and cloth.

"I don't know where I am or where I'm from," she panted. "The air is thicker here, and it makes me cough. There are so many noises from the cars and other things I don't recognize, people dress strangely, and there are no mountains or yaks or lodges in site. Where is the great meetinghouse? Where is the well? Where do people grow their crops or take them to market? Where is... anything??" Pandora leaned forward over the pillow and curled into as tight a ball as she could. She screamed into the pillow for a long while. Eventually, the screams turned to sobs and the sobs turned to choked sniffles. She peered up over the pillow with one puffy, bloodshot eye to look at Savien.
 
As written by Rōnin

Savien only watched, patient and quiet as the young woman vented her pent-up frustrations. She was lost, afraid, confused - taken from the home she knew and unceremoniously stranded in a world made of stone and glass. Who wouldn't be frightened about something like that?

When her rage was spent and she looked out from his cloak with tear-stained eyes, Savien rose and sat beside her.

"You must have lost your memory on the trip over," he said, his voice cool and quiet, "you will regain it. Here." He removed a plain rag from his belt. Scooting closer, he thumbed the strands of hair covering her face behind her ears and gently dabbed at the moisture trailing down her cheeks. "I am sorry for what you have lost, but I am also thankful that you are safe and healthy now." He adjusted his cloak, bringing the red over her exposed shoulders.

"What you do remember, though," he continued, his tone a bit more conversaonal, "all sounds very interesting. There are farms and wells here, but most of them are in the outlying towns and villages. You should visit one in your stay here - you may like it better." His brows furrowed. "Now, what animal were you talking about earlier? A 'yak'?" He mused. "Hm. I think I've seen pictures of those. They're like..." he made a strange, unintelligble motion with his hands, "...like cows, right? Like big, hairy cows?"
 
As written by Peachy00Keen

Pandora laughed a little through her tears. "Yeah," she sniffled, "big hairy, dumb cows." She hesitated a moment before leaning a little of her weight against him. "Back in the village, I used to watch over them. I had a ledge on a rock face that overlooked their grazing grounds. Bears and wolves and sometimes other things would come from the woods and the mountains to try to steal our yaks, but I fought them off. I've been doing that for as long as I can remember." She gave a small, sad chuckle, "that's one thing I never could forget; it's who I am.

Her feet stuck out from the bottom of the cloak just a bit. One of her big toes was a nasty shade of blueish purple. She must have stubbed it hard on something in the past few days. Somehow, she hadn't noticed it. She poked her head inside the cloak, still wrapped around her like a tent, and inspected the rest of her. She couldn't see much. Popping her head out of the cloak again, she cautiously looked at Savien. She wasn't sure of their culture here or if they thought anything of "showing skin" (she had heard one of the traveling merchants mention it once), but she didn't really know what that meant either. She shrugged to herself and dropped the cloak from her shoulders as she began checking her body for injuries.

Aside from her toe, she had a cut on her face (which she had felt before), a scratch on her arm, a large bruise on her right thigh, and a large cut on her torso. Now that she saw it, it hurt. It stretched from just under her left breast and ran diagonally down to just above her navel. She winced as she ran her finger along the seam. It was caked and healing (she guessed), but the area around it was red and angry-looking. She wiped away a lingering tear and lifted her sash up to see if the cut continued further. She thought she felt Savien shift slightly (though it could have just been her bumping his armor) and she looked up quickly. She snatched up the cloak from the bed around her and felt her face flush red and the cut on her eyebrow began to throb.
 
As written by Rōnin

"So you hunted beasts," Savien nodded, "you and I have more in common than I thought. You must be a skilled warrior to go toe-to-toe against wolves and bears."

The knight fidgeted slightly as Pandora basically went nude in front of him. He did well masking his surprise. Pandora was from a completely different culture - this was probably normal where she was from.

"I can wait outside while you shower?" he offered, getting off the bed, "I'll have some clothes sent to your room." His eyes ventured down to the cut lining his torso. His brows lowered. "Hm. That looks infected." He nodded. "We should have a cleric look at your injuries - we don't want you getting sick so soon after the hospital."
 
As written by Peachy00Keen

Pandora leaped up from the bed with impressive speed and landed in a defensive pose, ready to strike, her hands curled into fists. "You are not taking me back to the hospital!" she snarled; "I would first kill you with my own two hands."

Her teeth were bared, showing off some most impressive canines. She appeared savage, feral, and her gaze was locked on Savien's with a vicious intensity he had not ever seen in her before. Her toes curled and uncurled, as if she was gathering dirt for better footing should she pounce, but the floor was solid. It was simply reflex.

Her body locked and her gaze focused, Pandora did not move a muscle or stray her gaze from Savien. She may have let her guard down too soon, she realized. She had been weak, perhaps foolish.

She felt a trickling warmth down her torso. She paid it no mind, but the cut had split open in a few places and was dribbling hot, crimson blood.
 
As written by Rōnin

Savien stepped back, hand unconsciously moving towards his belt as Pandora assumed a fighting stance. Clearly he had misjudged as her well - she was far from at ease, far from the distressed citizen readily accepting whatever aid was offered to her. Pandora was far from ready to trust him, or anyone for that matter.

"I'm not taking you to a hospital," Savien stated calmly, "I'm here to help." He brought his hands up, resisting the instinct to put himself on the defensive. That would only make matters worse.

A low sigh escaped his lips as her wound re-opened. "Look, you're bleeding again. That could have been avoided, you know." He moved to a nearby cupboard and began rummaging through it. "I advise you to take a seat. You're not doing yourself any favors, getting worked up like that."
 
As written by Peachy00Keen

Pandora growled. "I want to trust you, Savien..." she said, cautiously, a note of hurt sympathy in her voice. "I don't have anyone to trust, and I may not have a home, but how can I know I can trust you?"

Her stance relaxed just enough for her to move and grab the cloak off of the bed. Her head throbbed. She tied the cloak around her torso, just below her arms, wearing it like a sheath dress. She began picking up her armor and placing it neatly in a pile on a chair. Her breathing was calculated as she tried to calm herself from her instinctual rage. As she picked up her knives, she checked each blade carefully and piled them next to her armor.

She turned to face Savien once more. "For what it's worth, I do remember a tradition from my village, whenever we welcomed a newcomer from out of town. It was kind of a peacemaking thing. The newcomer and the village priest would meet in ceremonial tunics and exchange prayers of peace and good fortune from their respective religions, with the whole village as a witness." She paused, breathing steadily and remembering what she could. "The idea was that they would present themselves as equals, the newcomer and the priest, who ran the village. As equals, they would exchange their wishes and then bow to each other. I only ever saw the ceremony performed twice, when I was little. When I got older, I was considered one of the few important members of the village who were required to stay at their posts during the celebration. I could kind of see it from my ledge, but to be fair, not many people wanted to move to my village, if they could even find it in the first place."

Pandora sat down on the floor near her armor and played with one of her knives. "You know," she said, "for what it's worth."
 
As written by Rōnin

Savien opened his mouth to speak but closed it - suddenly aware of he fact that he didn't have a good answer. He was a paladin. The people of his city trusted or distrusted him implicitly; nothing he ever did or said changed that. The prestige and honor of knighthood, revered by many, meant nothing to this woodland girl from the snowy north. He was a man her, not a cop, not a killer. She would judge him by the strength of his actions, not his reputation.

As she spoke, Savien removed a roll of gauze, some antibacterial cleanser and some bandages. He knelt beside her, dabbing the linens into the liquid and pressing them into her wound.

"That sounds like a very fine tradition," Savien remarked as he worked, fixing the bandage in place and wrapping it in gauze. "I would be happy to share it with you, if you like." He wound the tape under her arms, around her torso. When he was finished, he looked her in the eye.

"I want you to trust me, Pandora," he nodded. His hand extended and he offered to help her up. "I understand I have to earn that. I'm willing to try."
 
As written by Peachy00Keen

She hissed as the antibacterial stung her wound. Through bared teeth and pain, she tried her best to sound civil; "I appreciate that. I don't understand how you or your people work, so I apologize if I overstep any boundaries."

She took his hand and stood, placing the knife back with the others. "We may not have tunics, but we can still bring ourselves down to even enough ground if you take off your armor. I don't expect you to understand my language, but, then again, I don't really understand yours. We can proceed when you are ready, Sir Savien."

Pandora paused after his name. She had called him every possible combination of his names that she knew. "Do you have a preferred title that I address you by? I haven't been very consistent." She removed the cloak from around her torso and folded it gingerly, setting it atop her armor. She stood, vulnerable, in the middle of the room, nervous and unarmed in her sash and cloth, praying to Freyja in her mind that she be not struck down where she stood.
 
As written by Rōnin

"Hm," Savien perked a brow at the need to shed clothing, but otherwise said nothing. This was part of her culture, after all. He wanted to make her feel safe.

"You can call me Savien," he nodded, "others 'Sir Durandet', but I think 'Savien' is better for you." He began to undo his armor, letting fall his breastplate, pauldrons, armbands and bracers. The armor was designed to come on and off quickly, plates of steel folding off of his body with ease. His belt, complete with his sword, gun, ammunition and other tools, he set on the table.

When he was finished, he was in a full-black body suit. Nanofoam, a shock-absorber and projectile barrier. This, he kept on, the tough material clinging tightly to his muscle-bound frame.

He stood before her, nodding. "You said we pray now?" He smiled. "What is the name of your god, Pandora?"
 
As written by Peachy00Keen

Pandora felt more at ease now that his weapons were away and his armor had been removed. This way, he looked more human and less machine. The thought comforted her. She let out a small sigh and let her shoulders relax. She bowed her head reverently. "Yes," she said, taking a step forward. "Now, we pray. For me, I pray to Freyja. I will say a prayer of goodwill and prosperity, in her name, for you. You," she looked up to meet Savien's gaze, "you shall pray similarly to your god, then we will bow, like so," she dipped at the hip, keeping her back straight and her hands together, palms up, as if in offering, "and we sand quietly for a moment, to let our gods bow to each other as we did."

She stood up tall, took another deep breath, and set her shoulders in a low, relaxed position. "Whenever you are ready, Sir, we shall begin."
 
As written by Rōnin

Savien emerged from the commune shower and half-limped to the sink. He'd hoped the soak would have soothed his muscle soreness and joint aches, but the hot water had only wrung out the stubborn tension that had kept him moving in the first place. Now he felt everything - the kinks in his lower back where the heft of his plate mail settled, the burning in his thighs from riding all over town - everything. The paladin groaned almost silently, slipping the towel from his neck and wiping the fog off of the mirror. His hair was only half-dry and swept every which way in messy black peaks. He brought his hands to his face, tracing the dark circles rimming his eyes and the stubble foresting his jaw. When had been his last full night's sleep? First day of the Aurellae? No. The Lumenia murders? No, not even that.

Carseau, he reminded himself. He almost smiled. Not a full night's sleep since before Carseau, since before he'd fought and slain the monster that had butchered an entire town. Savien's fingers dropped from his face to his chest, to the stretching dribbles of discolored flesh which marred a haphazard line from his collarbone down his pectorals. For a moment, he was in the darkness of the cave again, the creature stooped over him, choking him, spewing its vile acid through the cracks on his armor...

He came to, blinking. He met his eyes in the mirror, dark and stormy, brows furrowing as he forced his rising heartbeat back into cadence. His fingers left the acid scars - just one of the many marks tattooing his body - and found the pendant glittering on his sternum. He held the steel between his fingers, feeling the hum of the holy energy radiating from within, savoring the warmth, the comfort.

I am a paladin. He looked challengingly into his reflection. I am a paladin.

He opened the medicine cabinet and began collecting shaving supplies.
 
As written by Sentry

All but unnoticeable at first, mixing with the heaviness of the steam and the air's cozy warmth, was a quiver against the paladin's skin. It mimicked the beat of his heart and its vibrations, synced a rhythm, took in a hazy breath, and began to hum. It was something one could sway to, fall asleep to. The comfort of a sofa in the sun during spring, while the birds chirped and the snow tricked into the drains outside. That same heat gathered at the pendant and toppled forward in an eruption of red feathers. They fell to the ground and rearranged themselves until they resembled a very tiny, meek bird.

It did not chirp, but the humming followed it as it hopped about.
 
Written by Ronin and Sentry

"Selene preserve-" Savien jumped back, reaching towards his hip for a gun that wasn't there. Had a bird just erupted out of his necklace?

He took a fighting stance, hands at guard, back heel up, watching the bird carefully. He felt rather silly getting in a defensive position against such a small creature, but he couldn't be too careful. This was Lutetia City after all, and whatever was going on here clearly had a touch of magic to it.

If there was one thing Savien didn't trust, it was magic.

"The hell is this..." he growled from his throat, eyes never leaving the bird.

The bird looked at him for a time, before hopping twice on its little legs and fluttering out of the room.

"Hey!" Savien growled, "hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?" He tied the towel around his waist and raced after it - chasing a magical bird through the halls of the Monastery while half naked.

Curiously, the bird didn't leave right away. Instead, it circled about the Monastery for a bit before finally perching above the elavator leading to the armory. Savien padded over to it, looking up suspiciously.

"What... should I suit up for you?" he spoke with slight condescension, skeptical of the beast could even understand him.

The bird blinked at Savien. It did nothing else. However, even that was a statement. The answer should have been obvious enough.

Savien grumbled to himself, feeling ridiculous for letting a bird boss him around. Still, SOMETHING was going on. The bird hadn't just left, it explicitly wanted him to follow it. More than that, it wanted him to don his armor.

"Don't move," he jabbed an accusatory finger at the creature, before descending the elevator.

He emerged ten minutes later in full plate, his sword and pistol strapped to his belt. He looked up at the bird.

"Well." He made a shooing motion. "Go on."

Promptly, the creature set off from the Monastary, and towards Lormaine. Savien got not even one day of rest before his next adventure.
 
The Forge

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As written by Rōnin

Night in the Monastery, the smithy empty save a lone figure standing before the forge. Sir Savien Durandet, dressed in a loose linen shirt, quietly worked the bellows, his naked sword rested on a nearby workbench. The festered coals gusted and groaned, protesting the rising smoke before bleeding into a quick, angry flame. It filled the forge with its cherry-ripe glow, the light reflecting in Savien's dark eyes like embers.

When the flames were hot enough, the knight lifted a pair of cast-iron pincers and placed a small dark mug of glittering silver in the heart of the heat. He turned from the forge to his sword. Much weighed on his mind. No less than three cases commanded his attention, a fourth already surfacing with the recent fiasco at the Academy Delacroix. Homicides and missing persons abounded. Citizens were living in fear, suspects loose in the city, the meticulous lies planted by the church beginning to unravel. Dark forces were rising in Lutetia, and the knights of the Order had, as of yet, failed to stop them.

But tonight, he knew, was not about the cases. Not about the murders, the witches, the Caer, the Bloodstones or the Scions. Tonight was about a name - a name that had burned like forgefire in Savien's mind before he even knew it. The name of the girl whose life he had ended.

Savien picked up his sword - plain Ivarian steel, spartan in design, sturdy and strong. Silver lines knicked the black crossguard, the spine, the grip. He found an empty space between two such formations, gathered a chisel and hammer from beneath the workbench, and began to mark.
 
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