Chapter Text
There is no place safe for one touched by lingering wild magic. It is a sickness that knows no cure, and a magic that has no limits. Breathing it in can change one's body, soul and mind, while living in it for any amount of time makes the person a vessel for it's chaotic desires.
To be touched by it is to be an outcast. Hence why Pebbles finds himself skirting along major cities in search of towns with few members and fewer questions.
This way of life suited him fine at first. He traveled alone, hiding his Warforeged appearance behind cloaks and stolen scraps of clothing, and did odd jobs for any coin he needed. Granted, he lost money incredibly easily, and tended to cause more harm than help, but those were just the side effects of fighting a thankless war.
Now he found himself in the worst of circumstances. In the crowded city of Luna, pushing through a crowd in hopes of finding any advertisements or signs that would lead him to an artificer.
He cursed as a small creature knocked into his side, jostling his already misplaced internals and causing him to stumble out of the stream of travelers along the gravel-laid road. He huffed, dusting off his rags before turning ahead. The sun had just touched the towers in the city's center in their drift towards the horizon. If Pebbles wanted to speak with a professional before day's end, he'd have to hurry.
He prepared to dive back into the flow of traffic before a voice caught his attention, clean and artificial amidst the low grumble of the street.
"If I see your face here again, I'll call the guard!"
Pebbles began walking in the direction of the argument, the voice drawing him closer like a spell.
"Like they'd help you!" Spat back the offender. "I have noble blood. You're just a machine with a screw loose!"
Pebbles squinted, still safely hidden behind a corner, in the shadow of another building. The second speaker appeared human, though he could also have Elven ancestors. The first…Pebbles tensed when he saw the taller figure, with eyes dark and soulless, and metallic skin pained blue. It had patters painted on it's arms and forehead, bright red and smudged. It bore common clothes, still finer than his own, which didn't hide it's construct origin.
He'd never seen a Warforeged so blatant.
But he'd seen this particular one before. About two years ago, when the War was just about to meet its horrific end.
This was Moon, sentinel 1 of his own squad. He'd recognize it's face anywhere, and that voice.
His fingers clenched realizing that was what drew him. A response not even magic take away.
"Well, which of us is drunk as a fish?" Moon retorted. "While you're out here ruining your reputation, I'm working at the most respectable tavern for miles. We have the honor of serving the best Luna has to offer- And you, Sir, are not that."
The drunk gave one last attempt at speaking, before turning with a whiny grumble and shuffling back into the street, where locals mocked him.
Pebbles stayed in place, listening to his own mechanisms hum in thought. He already wasn't having much luck with his search for an artificer, and any more time spend wandering the streets would make his already dreadful attire too dirty to go on with. The sentinel had mentioned the best favored it's tavern- perhaps he'd find someone willing to help him inside, or even just be pointed in the right direction.
But then he'd have to confront Moon.
He didn't know what to think of it now. The idea of a Warforeged just getting a job, and becoming like it's creators, just another citizen, was incomprehensible. Worse, though, he didn't know what Moon would think of him.
Had it ever wondered what had happened to it's other squad members?
Pebbles had to admit, he had not.
He adjusted his cloak and took a confident step towards the tavern. With luck (which he had none of) Moon would have forgotten him. Otherwise, maybe some remaining kinship would prompt it to aid him. Either way, the worst that could happen was…anything, given the magic stirring in his system.
He entered the tavern and bee-lined for the table he found Moon wiping down in focused movements. He felt eyes on him and hushed voices, likely due to his less-than-cleanly appearance.
Moon looked up, it's dark eyes revealing nothing but his own reflection, which really did not look great. "Oh! Another Warforeged! Well isn't that…something." It gave him a look over, and Pebbles felt himself shrink back into his cloak. Surely it was disappointed in how it's subordinate was faring. "Is there anything I could help you with?"
…So it didn't recognize him. That was good, weirdly good, the best option. He shouldn't have expected it to know him anyway- The War was years ago after all.
"Yes." He answered, flinching at how rusty his voice had grown. "I require an artificer, for repairs. Do you know of any nearby?"
It's eyes adjusted to something like sympathy. He didn't think a face with so few features could make such raw expressions. It was deeply unnerving. "Right- I do know a very talented artificer. They're just upstairs, if you'd like to see them now." It's voice was layered with inflections, almost sounding mortal in tone.
"Right now?" Pebbles questioned, before realizing he shouldn't scrutinize such an offer. "Y-yes, that would be fantastic.
"Alright! Follow me," Moon led him past the bar and down a short hallway, to a claustrophobic flight of stairs.
It was while marching up these steps that Pebbles began to wonder if following a near-stranger to a secluded area was a bad idea. He'd assumed the worst that could happen, that wasn't his fault, would be getting kicked out of the tavern. Now, though, he was considering the possibility of another Warforeged planning to disassemble him for spare parts, or perhaps just to sell. It wouldn't be completely out of nowhere, with how strange Moon had become already.
He felt his insides shiver with wild energy, and immediately halted that train of thought. There was no need to get lost in worry. If worst came, he could just burn down the tavern and find a new city.
Above the tavern was another hallway, lined with doors. Perhaps the tavern doubled as a small inn. Either that, or the staff lived upstairs, and kept spare rooms at the ready.
The sentinel lead him through one door, where inside someone worked at a desk furiously. A quill flew across their parchment, the same dark navy as the cloak that they wore, which was far too big with too long sleeves. The rest of the room was bathed in the last of the day's sunlight, and sparingly kept with a simple cot, seat, and small table balancing a tower of thick books. The desk was the only truly personalized thing in the room, and it was cluttered to overflowing with notes and empty inkwells, and drawings depicting diagrams of all kinds.
This, Pebbles found promising. An artificer with passion and a bit of insanity. From the little he knew, those were traits necessary for working on constructs like-
The figure turned, and he nearly cursed aloud.
The creature bore the same metallic face as his own. A Warforeged, though it had more detailed features and better kept paint. It's face was a lively emerald green, and it's eyes were brown like an oaks. Although it lacked a mouth, like every Warforeged, it's eyes gave every other indication of a frown.
"Moon, what did I say about bringing strays up here?" It's voice was void of Moon's inflections, though it's tone still dragged on as if it were tired, something it could not be in the same way mortals could. "If you must save every sad face, at least treat them to your hospitality downstairs." It's eyes squinted. "Where did you even find this one? The trash?"
"They need an artificer." Moon insisted, taking a step in front of Pebbles. "Just give them a look at least. Who knows, maybe fixing a reel construct will get your inspiration back?"
"If I wanted to see internal mechanisms I could look at my own." The Warforged grumbled. It sat up, staring down at Pebbles with disgust. "Very well. What's wrong with you?"
"I, um…I believe some of my internals were knocked out of place." He shifted on his feet under the construct's gaze.
"Is that it?" It knelt. "Take off your robes, I can handle this quickly."
Pebbles blinked, then did so. His robes felt almost melded with his skin after so long wearing them, and were nearly falling apart. Underneath he almost looked worse. Grime and dents covered his metal shell, while burns and scratches marked the more organic parts of his chest.
The artificer gave Moon a glance, before sighing and opening Pebbles' torso. "Gods, what did you do, get run over?" It shook it's head, peering into the mess of wires, conduits and systems. "At least nothing needs to be replaced."
"What happened to you, if you don't mind me asking?" Moon spoke from the other Warforeged's side.
Pebbles hesitated. "I…got into a fight."
He did not mention that fight was with three humans. He did not mention that the fight started after he'd accidentally burned down their orchard. He also did not mention his attempts to repair himself afterwards, which he knows only worsened the damage.
Again, the artificer gave Moon a pointed look. It then went back to adjusting his internals. It felt odd, having someone work on him while conscious, but Pebbles had gotten so used to the feeling of his insides moving about due to magic influence that it wasn't unnerving. The hard part was looking straight ahead, and not at Moon's odd expression.
"…Do you often get into fights?" The sentinel asked quietly.
"Yes." He answered truthfully, and against his will. He should have just agreed with the artificer, and said he'd gotten run over by a wayward carriage or something. But his voice didn't follow his own logic, but instead obeyed whatever authority Moon still had.
"Then why are we helping them?" Hara asked. They stopped their work to stare pointedly at Moon. "Are they even able to pay us for this?"
"I'll pay for them." Moon answered quickly. "Just finish fixing them. I'll pay whatever you-" It caught a change in the artificer's expression and corrected. "I'll pay a reasonable price for your efforts."
"You better." They returned to their adjustments, before pausing again. "It all should be back in place now, but the conduits aren't fitting quite right. As if there's something else…" They reached further, and Pebbles tensed, an uncomfortable sensations snaking through his joints. He was able to stop himself but yelling, but not the remnants of power within him from reacting.
The artificer retracted it's hand quickly with a high-pitched whistle sound- A basic "send help" alarm, and fell back onto the floor. It's hand, which was held close to it's chest, was now covered in ice and trembling.
"What in the Hells?" The artificer yelled. "Why did- How did you-"
"Hara!" Moon was at it's side in an instant. "Does it hurt? Is it spreading?"
"No, I'm…I'm fine." It's vents wheezed as it took a slow breath. Then, it turned it's attention to Pebbles. "Was that on purpose?"
"N-no, of course not-" His voice betrayed him, crumbling into a rusted mess. "I'd never-"
"Look at them, Hara." Moon spoke up. "They wouldn't attack someone trying to help them. They couldn't even win a fight."
"…You're right." The artificer- Hara, yielded. "But this still doesn't make sense." It's eyes squinted again in thought, before it stood. "I'm going to try to get the ice off my hand. You," It looked to Moon "need to get them out of my room, and preferably out of this tavern. While you," His gaze turned to Pebbles "are as fixed as you can be, save for whatever that was. I…wouldn't be opposed to studying it further. At a later date. When you're clean."
"Oh." Pebbles was still tensed from before, though now much more confused. "Okay." He wasn't sure if he wanted to be studied. Further insight would be nice, though, and a cure would be worth it completely… "I'll think about your offer."
"Great." Hara answered, though it didn't sound any more pleased. It left, rubbing their frozen hand as they walked.
Pebbles put his robes back on, comforted by their familiarity, then turned to Moon.
Now would be the perfect time to get kicked out of the tavern.
///
Moon had a bad habit of caring too much. It's what led her to rescuing stray kittens, giving spare coin to weary travelers, and now to showing a clearly destitute Warforeged to a room in her tavern- which Hara wouldn't approve of, but she knew the tavern's owner wouldn't care about.
Years ago, it was also what led her to being one of the most admired sentinels of the War. When it was her turn to fight, she swore an oath to always be there for her squad. And she carried that out, to the best of her abilities, till the War's end.
Thankfully, though, that life was behind her. She was tired of death and desperate oaths now, content with her life tending to the most welcoming tavern in Luna, and accompanying the grouchiest Warforeged as well.
She stood in the doorway, rocking on her heels as she let the small Warforeged look around. They were so tiny and confused, like the stray kittens she'd looked after. But somehow quieter, and also able to freeze the hands of helpful strangers.
The Warforeged inspected simple cot, nightstand, lamp, and desk before meeting her gaze again. "I don't have the coin for this."
"Don't worry about that, this is on the house." She tried to seem as friendly as possibly, which only made the Warforeged's nervous demeanor worse. "The bathroom is down the hall on the left. I'll get you some extra clothes…" Which, now that she thought of it, wouldn't fit him well. Hara was shorter than her, but even their robes would need adjustments.
"I don't need all that." The small Warforeged responded. "Thank you for the offer, though."
"It's really no bother." She insisted. "I'll just get some robes from the shop across the street. It should still be open," She turned on her heels, trying and failing not to track how much money she'd be spending on this stray. She'd never been so generous, though she couldn't just let this Warforeged stay uncared for.
"No, really," The smaller continued. "I'm fine with what I have. You've done too much already-"
Her wages could cover Hara's steep price of business, but if she kept this up-
A simple solution came to mind, and Moon decided on it immediately. While the stray continued voicing their disagreements, she walked into her room, the room across from theirs, and dug into their dresser until they found a long, thick cloak, dyed rusty orange. It would be big, but it would work.
She returned, to where the stray was still arguing, and handed them the robe. "You can wear this for the time being, okay? That way, when you're able to, you can by your own new set of clothes and return it. It's like borrowing, instead of just giving."
The Warforeged stared into the fabric, their fingers tracing it's seams. "…Thank you. I'll return it to you, when I'm able."
Moon nodded. "You're welcome. Now, get yourself cleaned up before Hara looses their mind." She took a step back, then remembered something. "Oh, I never got your name, did I?"
The Warforeged didn't answer for a moment. Their eyes were wide, and avoiding hers. She caught their shoulders tense before they spoke. "My name is Pebbles."
…Moon's systems hummed, but found no recognition of the name. "Pebbles? That name suits you. Did your creator name you that, or your squad?"
"I did." Pebbles answered. "I wasn't on my squad long enough to get a name."
"Oh." That's sad, Moon thought, knowing speaking her pity aloud would be rude. "Good night, Pebbles."
She walked out of the room and closed the door, a bittersweet memories of her own squad resurfacing. The years had blurred their voices and faces, but her loyalty for them remained.
She wondered, in their changed and far-away lives, if they would be proud of who she was now.