Given the nature of The Depths, maps are required not only to traverse them safely, but also to locate resources for extraction.
One of Davis' jobs is to assign a team with the skills and experience necessary for said tasks.
The meeting with Louis and his party was just one of the many things he had to do today. His duties were increasing, though; he didn't mind it.
Gregorio Silva has maintained the mist for 20 years already. And, clearly, it has taken its toll on him. A few greedy ones have begun to sense his inability to interfere directly in their rule anymore.
Their excuses will surely grow. They can't send resources because of a "shortage," so they will say that the ones they sent got "plundered" or lost on the way.
Davis had become accustomed to their game.
Not everyone could be a man of duty like Gregorio Silva. Many needed benefits to remain loyal.
As a man who once had something to protect, Davis wouldn't look down on these people. Everyone was selfish and worked to gain something.
Safety for their loved ones, luxury in the apocalypse's scarcity, or simple stability and peace within shelters.
It's only a matter of time before they realize he has the Queen's Blood to revive Blood Springs and Mistles.
Davis can't let the situation worsen any more; after all, the betterment of humanity is the work of many, not one.
He has to do his part for his friend.
"Boss!" One of his guards entered the tent.
"Yes?" Davis, unhurried, kept organizing the remaining maps by their threat level.
The guard appeared serious. "...This is just my curiosity, but that woman with white hair-"
*ghzzzht*
The walkie-talkie sounded. Not the one on his hip, but the one under his chest armor.
"OH!" The guard quickly scurried outside of the tent, very familiar with this occurrence.
If Davis ever used this transceiver, one would have to remove oneself from his surroundings and stay alert. After all, it's the one used for emergencies and disclosing important information, so it's better kept secret.
And Davis responded accordingly, dropping everything he was doing and taking out the receiver under his chest plate.
Being a commander, he doesn't let apprehension or doubt show…
Yet his ever-stern visage twisted into a disquiet frown.
An emergency contact from Jack was worrying.
After all, he'd refused to respond to calls unless necessary, and this went the other way. Jack wouldn't answer without speaking a one-time code he gave personally.
The chance of an eavesdropper in the communications interfering with the Relics was a concern of his.
"Here." He spoke directly to it and went to grab his weapon, ready to move out if need be-
"Is Adam single?"
"...?!"
*clank*
His weapon slipped from his startled grasp.
"You there?" The voice from the device rang out shortly after his puzzled silence.
"Hunter… You…??"
Jack and Davis had agreed to drop some of the walkie-talkie lingo and get to the point in emergencies if the situation called for it…
HOW is this a crisis for this?
This walkie-talkie was meant for crucial information or emergency contact… Silva had them manufactured specifically for that…
Nonetheless, the commander answered with the very little information he had available, "I suppose, unless you consider his attendant to be more than that. But attendants are something you know more than I do."
He responded to the odd inquiry with a perplexed expression, and, suddenly, he was further baffled.
"FÜÇK! *thud*"
???
That wasn't Jack's voice.
'Eva?- No.' He hardly ever hears her speak, but he knows that wasn't her.
It was somewhat distorted…
'That was another woman…'
A sigh sounded through the receiver before Jack spoke again, "That is all. Over- *THUD*"
Jack's return to the walkie-talkie lingo signified the end of the "emergency" and ended the communication as someone else appeared to be fuming in the background.
( ಠ_ಠ) "????"
…
Unexpectedly, Oliver was the guy to consult about the spiritual mumbo jumbo that Alexander threw around.
Although that weaponsmith wasn't around anymore, Louis had asked and memorized a lot of what he heard from him.
The researcher had taken a lot of notes on Alexander's explanations and rants. Sure, he can't understand them, but a researcher always keeps notes of things they don't understand… That is kind of what they do.
Louis headed straight to his lab to reorganize his notes, not just on Alexander's philosophy, but also to prepare the briefing for the caverns we'd be exploring.
We got some good maps for the Depths, and everyone seems eager to put them to use.
As we entered the base, I slowed my pace when I noticed how Io was in deep thought. She wasn't aware of where she was walking, just instinctively following me.
It was a mere moment; we were a group chatting about ludicrous spiritual experiences, and now it was just Io and I, with a weight in my chest I felt growing heavier by the moment.
My pace slowed, having an idea of what Io was so lost in thought about.
Until she stopped, and so did I… no, I was rooted to the spot.
I felt that weight sink at the bottom of my stomach.
"Adam." Her voice was faint… so small I almost misheard it.
"Yes?"
I turned towards her.
She mulled over her words. It's never been this clear to me how much she struggled to voice her thoughts.
The small knitting of her silver brows became prominent as her aureate eyes dimmed into a pensive dull yellow…
A black mechanic hat became the only thing I could see of her visage as her head tilted down.
Io didn't only have her aloofness, which hardly portrayed emotions or projected a lack of awareness.
She had a certain posture she oddly ever loosen. Hands in front, one over the other, relaxed. Her elbows slightly bent, bringing her hands waist-high.
No matter the situation, she would remain calm. A certain air of elegance around her.
Intending to listen, to be present, and willing to help.
This time, there was a small change.
A pair of slender hands weren't ready to take any action.
They faced one another, fingertips drumming against each other. They held an ever-changing cascade of thoughts she couldn't put together.
They gained no form and slipped through her grasp.
Unbeknownst to me, she had picked up a familiar habit.
I couldn't think for her, but there was something I could do.
Something she always did for me.
I stood by her.
After giving my time so much importance in pursuit of growth, I found myself giving it little value while awaiting her words.
Her hands clasped together, and a steady rise of her head showed me the golden eyes I've been awaiting.
A pair of eyes that held something I didn't ever want to see.
Her lips parted, but that dulcet tone didn't soothe my ears.
A complicated light in her eyes tore through the heart I thought hardened. "Adam, what is it that you wish for the most?"
And there it was.
The weight that made me falter.
My regret.
At that moment, I felt it grow rampant.
Anxiety.
It told me something I feared.
'You've done something wrong.'
Her question was not an easy thing to answer.
At all.
Should I have postponed the questioning for the Parasite?
There is no way Io wouldn't have thoughts about me gutting myself like a fish to find the information she couldn't get…
Io has been trying to be an attendant, to help me in any way.
Of course she had to gather her thoughts on the balcony…
She thought she failed.
Even if it is something she sees as a duty, she spent her time and effort on how to do it.
But this… as if giving up her ideas and efforts of improvement to use mine, and mold herself into a useful asset.
Like a goddamned puppet!
FUCK!
Back then…
It was the perfect moment to harvest the information from the unknown entity in my chest.
I was so afraid of the danger it posed to my future that I jumped at that opportunity.
When the base was empty. When no one but someone I could trust would be there.
And, of course, that trust was also a burden to her.
I felt trapped. As if a mistake could lead to Io…
No!
Let's not think like that.
Despite the weight in my chest, I gathered my breath, ready to respond.
I needed to answer this right.
I had a few ideas.
"We can't all be perfect." "We all fail at some point." "It's fine as long as we learn." "There are things beyond your control."
I felt many coaxing words rushing in… an appropriate response.
No, a Good response.
Something that can help now.
How do I make that look disappear?
From her perspective, what would be better?
I gathered the few encouraging thoughts I had.
"..."
… But not a single one of them sounded good enough.
Fuck sake!
But I need something!
Anything!
To not have her questioning her self-worth, to keep her going. I need to motivate her.
I'm no spokesman, but if it's me, then Io should feel better.
She should…
Ah…
…?
No… No, I didn't need to do all that.
… The fuck am I doing?
Panicking after a question like that?
The things I have done, what I haven't, and what I will do have an effect on the world.
People who might've died without even a line of code depicting their lives and dreams are talking about their families with smiles on their faces.
They share drinks, joke around, and celebrate their new beginning. Opportunities that they wouldn't get had I remained still and indecisive.
My actions have weight… but that weight doesn't always go where I want it to.
It hurts.
It's painful that the one who has been with me since the beginning is crumbling like this in front of me.
I made her experience this.
By all means, Io is someone who naturally finds her meaning through many hardships along with the team and witnessing the grief and love of people around her.
She would learn to be an individual who could be more than an attendant who discards themselves after helping their Successor recover.
A protector.
Ugh…
My very existence has denied her that possibility.
There are too many differences…
… But it doesn't matter now, does it?
Io showed me vulnerability.
I almost jumped to protect her without thinking… An immediate response to fix her path.
But… this isn't about that anymore.
Did she do that for protection?
No.
Clearly not.
An honest question deserves an honest answer.
She doesn't deserve a "fake it until you make it."
I knew that kind of struggle. And I desperately wanted her to not have it.
There was something I wanted to do to make someone proud too, a pressure to be someone, a person who isn't the one in the mirror.
But that isn't how it works.
You can never not be you.
Because you are all you have.
I almost gave her something shallow.
Empty of the heart she has given me.
Letting go of a restrained breath, I gather myself again.
"Io." I began, "... I do not know what I wish for the most in my life."
"..." There was no response. Only a near-empty gaze.
There wasn't much I could return to the lost girl, only honesty.
"I have not lived enough to give you the answer you deserve. My life, the meaning to all of it, isn't something I have grasped yet."
And, finally, she hangs onto a certain part.
Despite her 'failure' at being an attendant, there was something she had yet to give up on.
My words.
"... Your meaning?" She repeated.
"Io… I can only tell you this." I trailed off.
What is it that I have as my meaning, and how can I tell Io what it is?
The pain of loss: parents, grandpa, and a special someone.
Resentment and anger toward a mistake that led to an injury.
The bitterness I developed for everyone and everything.
A life that I felt regretful over once it flashed before my eyes, bleeding out under debris.
All otherworldly experiences of excitement, fear, and paranoia led me to size my beating heart for answers.
What was it born from such experiences?
Was it a goal?
To an extent, but not my meaning. Just a part of it.
After all, it's not what I want to do with this chance, but what I refuse to let it be.
Someone who would let down the expectations of a dead man who gave me what he could.
A slave of a monster puppeteering my body.
A man who will forget who he is, being ruled by fear.
I don't want a life that flashes before my eyes only to give me the worst feeling to take to the grave: shame.
Cursing and damning my slow, cold death. A bitter cry as my last breath.
I have no speech to guide someone to the unknown.
My heart hasn't experienced the full weight that life can have, nor do I have the wisdom to claim I know what life is.
But I had enough to spill over for her.
I looked into her eyes and confessed, "I don't know my meaning, and I might never find it. But it doesn't matter what I will face when searching for it; I know I won't stop trying to live until I have fulfilled it.
I hope you can do the same with me."
I am just as lost. But I will continue.
"..." She didn't speak and only stared at me with her gilded eyes.
The windows to her soul seemed shaken.
Her lips trembled, on the verge of parting, but remained shut.
Moments of silence and deliberation flowed, yet didn't pass by.
I held onto every second.
Her eyes scattered and scanned my face as if to find her answer.
Her breath halted as she tightened her lips.
Io's unspoken words were heavy, but I could wait for her to give them to me.
"..."
With her hands clasped together, she avoided my gaze, casting it downward.
One breath
Her shoulders relaxed.
Two breaths
Her clasping hands loosened slightly.
Three breaths
Her head rose, meeting my gaze.
I waited.
Yet-
"..."
A stiff breath met my silence.
The firmness in those golden eyes crumbled.
She diverted her stare to the tile floor to pick up the pieces.
One breath
To remain dutiful.
Two breaths
Or to voice a desire.
Three breaths
Which is the answer that requires this much courage?
Her eyes met mine for the second time.
"..."
Silence.
Words failed her, yet I saw my reflection in her eyes for longer.
I remained, expecting.
A black mechanic hat covered my view, but this time, I didn't hear her rhythmic breathing.
"Ah…" It was hard to call it a cry, small yet heavy, a breath she couldn't hold onto.
In that moment, there was less than silence.
No more breaths
Emptiness.
And yet, this wasn't for me to fill.
I couldn't force someone to live life.
That kind of decision isn't up to me.
So I waited.
My clammy hands didn't matter, I've dealt with worse.
I couldn't be bothered with the pit in my stomach. I focused on my ears.
The lump in my throat wasn't a priority. My words weren't important at this moment.
Only her answer-
One breath
One that is alive
Golden eyes, steadier than before, rose to meet me.
The light I saw cleared my ailing.
"Adam."
"I am here."
"You won't mind my company, even if I can't be a proper attendant?"
"Io," I put my hands on her shoulders, "I will never reject your company."
There wasn't a smile across her lips nor a laugh carrying her tone. But the radiance in her eyes flowed through her words, "Neither will I."
I was a bit taken aback hearing such a tone from Io.
Warm, delicate, and somehow firm. A resolution only for my ears to hear.
But why whisper-
"YOU SHITHEAD! YOUBETTERGETYOURHANDS… offffffff of her?" Rin's words slurred at the end once my deadpan stare turned towards her running figure.
Her scowl softened. The giant hammer she held over her head to squash me now rested on her shoulder. All aggression was gone; only confusion crossed her face.
"Adam??? The hell happened to you?" Big ol' brown eyes blinked at me repeatedly, as if I would turn back to 'normal' in a moment.
I… right, I can't get mad at such an interruption; she mistook me for someone else-!
Hold on, was she gonna smack me because she thought I was some other dude putting hands on Io?
Huh, didn't expect Rin to be such a wingman…
Uh…
Is wingman the correct term?
Huh, I never thought about it.
What about wingwoman?
Hmm… No… Doesn't feel right.
Little wingwoman?
… wing girl.
Hehe!
"You just had an unpleasant thought, huh?" The little girl lifted the hammer atop her head once again.
"Nah, it was humorous if anything."
"Really? Tell me what it was. I wanna laugh." She readied her hammer to laugh with an innocent smile… Almost mistook her for someone else.
(✿◕‿◕) "..." (◕◡◕';.) "..."
"You know, humor is subjective-"
"Your head is subjective to blunt trauma!"
____________________________________________________________________________
Word Count: 2,910
The weight of the human experience has some hands, I tell you. Almost had me tapping out, but mama raised no bitch.
ᕦ(ò_ó )ᕤ
Also, bet you thought Adam would say some dumb bullshit. Though, you can't expect emotional maturity from everyone, even in real life.