Reconciliation
The man dismissed his Silence spell, his demeanor shifting as he acknowledged his disadvantage. As I watched him, a flicker of regret momentarily crossed his battered features before he shot a glare my way, his body showing the toll of our skirmish. “Surrender is nothing I am used to, nor willing to accept… but to die here with no answers and my mark not found… it would be pointless to die. So, I’ll be at your mercy for the moment… but don’t think I won’t fight on the moment I notice deception,” he stated firmly.
As he finished speaking, he coughed up blood, staining the ground before him. My expression shifted to one of concern at this visible sign of his injuries. His begrudging submission and the condition he was in prompted a more compassionate approach, prompting me to lower my defenses and prepare to aid him as needed, all the while remaining cautious of his warning.
Dismissing the Divine Flare of my blade, I slid my rapier into its sheath with a deliberate motion, the soft click of metal signaling the end of my aggression. With a gentle beat of my wings, I descended, my boots touching the ground just a few steps away from him. My shoulders sagged slightly, and I let out a soft sigh, shaking my head as if to clear away the intensity of the battle.
Taking a tentative step forward, I studied him, my gaze lingering on his wounds. I had gotten caught up in the exhilarating rush of combat and the fluid grace of my aggressive maneuvers, and regret immediately flickered across my features as I took stock of the damage I had done. “I mean you no harm,” I said gently, my voice steady and calm, “You have my word. I only want to help you, please?”
My golden eyes locked onto his, his own eyes appearing as rubies in the night. My eyes were not filled with the fire of combat, but rather with an earnest sincerity. The passion in my voice was unmistakable, but it carried no trace of malice—only a genuine desire to aid him.
As he surveyed me, his gaze briefly flickered to the blood he had spilled on the ground. I watched him visibly relax a bit, the tension in his body easing as he sat down on a nearby pew to catch his breath. “Again…word means nothing. What do you want to do to help me…?” he asked, skepticism lining his weary voice.
His eyes didn’t meet mine directly; instead, they seemed to study my hands, perhaps gauging my intentions through my gestures. One of his hands supported his upper body, while the other rested on his knee, a posture that suggested he was struggling to maintain composure. It was clear he was trying to hold himself together, physically and perhaps emotionally, in the aftermath of our confrontation.
I simply nodded, my expression softening as I came to understand that words alone wouldn’t bridge the gap between us. Resolving to let my actions speak for me, I quietly sat next to him, folding my wings neatly behind. Without hesitation, I extended my hand, my touch light and careful as I rested it against his shoulder. Closing my eyes, I whispered a silent prayer to Sune, my fingertips glowing with a warm, golden light as I cast Cure Wounds.
The soothing energy flowed from my hand, mending his injuries with a gentle warmth that spread through him like a comforting embrace. I remained silent, my actions deliberate and filled with compassion as I lifted my gaze briefly to meet his own. I quietly asked him, “How do you feel?”, hoping that this gesture would convey my sincerity more effectively.
I could sense his next breath was more peaceful, and felt him relax further within my presence. Wiping the blood and sweat away from his mouth, his voice was softer, “I feel fine. Thank you for the healing.” He looked around the temple, obviously not seeing any other presence still within the walls of the sanctuary they were in, then he looked back up at her in earnest, “So you’re really here alone, for this place? Why?”
I settled more next to him, my demeanor more relaxed as I shook my head with a soft smile. “Not alone,” I said, my voice calm yet tinged with amusement. “My friends are out scouting, trying to figure out who’s responsibile for this.”
I let out a light laugh, easing the tension as I leaned back, my white wings neatly folded behind me. “My name is Kazumi Oriana the second. I’m a seraphim of the Goddess Sune, sent here to restore this temple’s sanctity.” Shifting my gaze towards him, a spark of curiosity lit my eyes. “Judging by your earlier questions, I’d guess you were hired by the Order of the Ruby Rose to track down whoever desecrated this place. It would’ve been nice if someone had thought to mention their involvement before we met. It could have saved us both quite a bit of trouble…” My voice trailed off, hinting at both the irony of our unnecessary conflict and a genuine interest in his story.
However, my focus returned to his wounds, my touch instinctive and practiced as I began to tend to him. The golden glow of my healing magicks returned, gentle and precise. Despite the tension that had preceded this moment, I felt a need to tend to him. The irony wasn’t lost on me—just moments ago, we’d been locked in combat, yet here I was, tending to the very wounds I’d inflicted. My lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as I worked, “I have to say though, you certainly don’t fight like any of The Order. Nor do you appear to be a believer. So… who are you, my dear?”
My attempts to heal him were abruptly interrupted when he scoffed and stood up, shaking his head as he stretched. He moved away, leaving me uncertain of his intentions. I watched patiently as he began to remove his old bandages and meticulously apply new ones to his hands.
“I wouldn’t ever join an Order or whatever you call them. Guilds, anything like that—they’re too caught up in politics,” he stated, his voice firm and his manner decisive. “I just pick up my marks from bounty boards. The Warlord just happened to be the highest bounty this month.” His explanation was direct and pointed, clearly expressing his distaste for organizational ties and his preference for independence.
As he concluded his statement, a groan of pain escaped him, stirring a pang of sympathy within me, though I couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the irony of the situation. Despite his rugged independence, it amused me how effortlessly he had managed to overwhelm me earlier. My ears perked up, attentive to his continued speech.
“But for healing me, I’ll tell you my name. Haruki.” His voice carried a hint of reluctant gratitude as he finished wrapping the bandage on his right hand and moved on to his left. The gesture of sharing his name felt like a small concession, a token of appreciation in the midst of his self-reliance.
I listened intensely to what he had to say, nodding gently and in understanding as he expressed his distaste for politics. I couldn’t help but chuckle in agreement, my own distaste for politics as I offered a warm smile to him. “Yes, the politics are quite… tiresome, aren’t they? I’m actually part of a guild myself. My sole purpose is to spread my faith as widely as possible. The guild has been instrumental in that regard—it’s really helped me achieve my goals.”
My smile broadened as I echoed his name, “Haruki…” My celestial accent imbued it with a melodic resonance, lending an ethereal quality to the simple utterance. “It’s a lovely name, Haruki. Tell me, why do you fight so passionately?” The question was posed with genuine curiosity, my tone soft yet earnest, inviting him to share more about the drives and desires that fueled his actions.
He remained still as I posed my question, his reaction subdued, almost disinterested. His gaze stayed fixed on his hands as he continued to wrap them, his movements methodical and minimal. When he finally responded, his voice carried a hint of resignation. “Passionately…? I mean, I’m just used to fighting. It’s… easier than talking, to me at least.” His words suggested a deep-seated familiarity with conflict, hinting at a preference for action over conversation, perhaps revealing more about his experiences than he intended.
Haruki fell into a thoughtful silence, his attention focused intently on the bandages as he wrapped them around his hands. He seemed to scrutinize each wrap before letting out a winded sigh, indicating a shift in his thoughts. “So… restoring this temple… is this part of your guild’s ownership?” he asked, his tone mixing curiosity with a hint of skepticism, perhaps questioning the motivations behind my involvement with the temple and how it tied to my affiliations.
I tilted my head, puzzled by the notion, the idea of owning a temple completely alien to me. “Owned by the Guild? Goodness no, this temple belongs to my Goddess, Sune—she is the Goddess of Love and Beauty.” I let out a gentle sigh, my eyes sweeping over the surroundings with a mix of reverence and concern. “I was sent here by Her to restore it. Unfortunately, I didn’t prepare the right spell today, so I’ll need to spend the night in prayer to be ready to take care of it tomorrow.” My voice carried a blend of devotion and mild frustration, reflecting my commitment to my divine duties and the temporary setback in fulfilling them.