Chapter Text
Rhodes Island, somewhere around Bolívar.
Everytime the farmaceutical's giant landship stops close to some city and open its gates, folks from all walks of life roam through its grounds: infected caravans looking for sanctuary, operators coming or going into missions, agents searching information, diplomats searching opportunities and all sorts of drifters and exotics specimens from all around Terra.
Among the crowd roaming gate C, a figure stood graciously along the wall, hidden in plain sight. She had closed eyes, hands over the chest and was humming an beautiful melody. Beyond the angelical tune, this curious figure caught the eyes of the newcomers for visual reasons too: the woman donned an old and tattered nun cloak. This sacred uniform seemed to be as well traveled as its owner, as patches, stains and braids clutter themselves around, giving this figure a aura between a gentle nun and a savage druid. To complete this unusual display, a strong scent of lavander hovered around this tattered nun. This pleasant smell came from large doses of lavander-scented concoctions and even flowers of lavander tied around her cloak. While civilians and children enjoyed the smell, some more war-oriented individuals could discerne another smell, camouflaged under the lavender - the smell of blood.
Nueda is also called "Gracebearer" in Rhodes Island's corridors. A gentle and prestative operator, famous landship-wide by her care of the children and overall devotion to every battered and bruised soul in Rhodes Island - but also by her strange and uncanny behavior. As a testament to her dedication, while idly waiting in gate C, everytime the operator stopped her humming and open her eyes, she recieves warm words or waves from colleagues and refugees, and answers all then with the same warm - metticously calculated warm. Gracebearer only betray her precise display of piety when she sees a tall and dark figure climbing up gate 3's ramp - the person she was waiting for...
- Aurela! - Gracebearer jigged straigh into her friend, hugging the towering figure, her head only reaching Aurela's chest.
- Goddamn Nueda! You are makin' this look like a fuckin' romance novel! - Aurela hissed while looking around, annoyed by the public display of affection (but she didn't pushed Gracebearer away).
- Sorry, my dear Aurela - Gracebearer said, releasing her friend and making a old-fashioned reverence - I'm only rejoicing that you arrived safe and sound, by the grace of the saints...
- Sure, sure, whatever - Aurela dismissed it while scanning her surroudings - and where I must go to solve the fuckin' paperwork of my visit?
- Follow me, my dear friend - Gracebearer made a gesture to the main corridor.
To everyone that saw Gracebearer and Aurela walking to the processing department, it was hard not to notice how different the duo was. Gracebearer was small and delicate, while Aurela was tall and boisterous; the first one was covered in tattered robes while the other was clad in a dark and dented armor. While gracebearer had a aloof expression and drowsing voice - as if she was always in some sort of stupor - Aurela's sour features and growling voice would give her notes of a predator. Even in the details they seemed complement each other: Aurela's marble skin, short hair and red pupils were the oposite of the dark-skinned, long haired and turquoise-eyed Gracebearer.
Beyond their contrasts as a duo, they were, as individuals, two sights to behold: Aurela was a fallen sankta - black wings and halo, having horns that exposed her crimes against her own kind and her exiled status - and an armed-to-the-teeth mercenary on top of that. Gracebearer was a k'uk'ulkan, a misterious and powerful ancient race - with collective memory and long lifespans, famed to control the weather and weak minds - but now almost extinct and prone to madness.
As one philosophic-incline operator once noted, see them together could generate two very different types of anxiety: one was a cursed war machine, steamrolling the weak with iron and bullets; the other was an ancient cauldron of curses and mysteries, swallowing everyone who gaze upon them. One would claim your body; the other, your mind.
However, the none of this percieved anxiety was present when Aurela had signed her contract of temporary service - the fallen Sankta even displayed the amount of politeness she was still capable of. On the other side of the desk, Ms. Amiya herself was conducting the signatures - a small cautus with a soft voice and a surprisingly innocent demeanor, considering her position and experience. By her side, were Ms. Dobberman, Rhodes Island's chief instructor, and Ms. Ascalon, the chief of SWEEP - Rhodes Island's secret service.
- Those are the main documents you must sign, Ms. Aurela - Amiya said with a smile, while amassing the multitude of paper over the desk - This will cover your alocation with us during your 6-month service. Hope you will enjoy your experience with us!
- Thanks, Ms. Amiya - Aurela said in an military manner - Just point me to your enemies and i assure y'all will be satisfied with my work...
- Of course... - Amiya said with a somewhat yellow smile, as morbid jokes were never her forte.
- Also - Dobberman added, with a energetic and teacher-like tone - We would also like to question you about your your interest in training some newer operators
- whatcha' mean? - Aurela asked, giving a quick glance to Gracebearer.
- Well - Dobberman then begun her explanation as if was a class - We have some umexperienced and/or young fightets that aim to became operators. So, we put them in a "bootcamp" where more experient operators as myself, Ms. Du-Nar and Ms. Wishlash train them in specifics as defense, duel and similar.
- Nice - Aurela said, nodding her head - I had one of these when got into the apostolic knights...
- Exactly - Dobberman agreed - so you are a experienced fighter. And, after we heard Ms. Gracebearer tales about your exploits - the Perro instructor then pointed to Gracebearer, who was sitting close to the door, with a smile - we're considering you to a position as instructor of close-quarter combat. You have excelent marksmanship habilities, but also excel when your enemies got close. We are worried that some of our snipers relies too much in the distance to stay safe.
- Hum, i'ts a wise concearn - Aurela muttered, and after some seconds, added - okay, I'm in! But, can Nueda tag along? - she then turned to the nun behind her - since ya put me on this, you'll have to keep me from smacking someone while training them!
Gracebearer just kept smiling and nod her head, almost oblivious of the world around her.
- Well... if you need it, we can arrange that - Amiya said with a nervous smile, not knowing if Aurela was just joking or if she might have processes in her desk soon - Finally, I'm sorry that we do not have exclusive accomodations for temporary operators... It is really okay for you to stay in Ms. Gracebearer's room?
- Sure! - Aurela answered with a dismissive gesture - We lived together for a fuckin' decade back in the abbey, that I can even stand 'er snore! Dontcha worry!
- Well, okay then! - Amiya said with a smile, after a quick glance to Ascalon - that's all for now! You are free to install yourself! If you need anything, just ask!
- Thank you, Ms. Amiya - Gracebearer said with a small reverence - Worry not, I will take great care of dear Aurela...
- Aye, thank y'all - Aurela added, getting up in an almost unconscious military pose.
After the duo had exited the whole administrative wing, they passed silenty by the rows of HR employees, the giant, unrelentless, spinal cord of Rhodes Island. Unsung heroes. Only when they were already in the less movemented corners of the landship, they started to talk again, but in a more reserved tone.
- I snore that much? - Gracebearer asked.
- Nah - Aurela said, back in her more abrasive self - I just was tryin' to make some lovey-dovey jokes to ease the small bunny-boss... In truth, ye don't move or make a sound, kinda lookin dead when sleep.
- Well, we might work a little more in your "relaxed" demeanor - Gracebearer said, then shifting to a praising tone - But you made it well, I don't felt any ill intent from Ms. Amiya and Ms. Dobberman! Can't say the same about Ms. Ascalon...
- Relax Nueda - Aurela was more dismissive - I know that drill... The big-shot show up as a display of force: they wanna me know that they're watchin' me, that they know I'm dangerous....
- Oh my, that is a shame... - Gracebearer said with a sad sigh - They can't see you as the paragon that I know...
- Whereaver - Aurela cut the praises with a gesture: even after a decade, she still get embarassed by Gracebearer's blunt praises - and speakin' of which, what the fuck is this extra job ya got me into?!
- Well, I just tell them about your abilities - Gracebearer explained - I believe that are many young warriors here that could benefit from your talent for violence, so they can keep themselves alive for longer. Also - here the nun's tone shifted to a more serious - some of the prospects we need to do will be more... aproachable if you have a public position here on Rhodes Island.
- Always thinkin' three steps ahead aye? - Aurela remarked, with a small smile - By the way, where is ya fuckin' room in this jumbo-ass landship?! We need to talk business!
- I know, my dear - Gracebearer said, with her eyes half-closed - we are almost there. Then we can discuss our private affairs...
In the corridors deep inside Rhodes Island's guts, two wicked figures walk in the shadow, ready to begin their sacred festering.