Warm, Samarie felt very warm.
She awoke to a pervasive buzz between her ears. And the sense that her body didn't quite fit right.
A sense that was rapidly fading as she grew more aware of herself.
Samarire had been tossed and turned like a salad. Thankful that she was even still alive…
Wait, where was she?
She tried using her eyes, but a dryness to them made activating them difficult. So, Samarie used her normal eyes to look around.
First noticing the fact she wasn't in her birthday suit! A large jacket draped over her scarred and disfigured frame.
A blush bloomed across her cheeks, dusting her face in red.
In an instant, she raised her hand, calling forth the transformation to change her unfortunte situation.
A flash of light, and her old shirt and blouse returned to her. Stinking like potatoes, but it was better than nothing. She then took off the jacket to see where she was.
Then noticing the well dressed man sitting next to a fire.
He stirred a pot filled with something inside, carefully sloshing it, before he pulled out an egg.
Oddly enough, however, he didn't drop the yolk, or white in. Instead, he crushed the shell, and deposited the remains inside the pot. Continuing to stir until he was satisfied.
"Seamen's Coffee" He smoothly said, taking a long whiff of the drink. "Something that we all need in a cruel time like this."
He seemed solemn, but resolved. His eyes telling of a place he'd rather be, and people he'd rather be with.
"Girl, you're finally awake, aren't you?" Gently, he took a seat across from Samarie, A rock in this dark and damp place. "How are you feeling?"
"What did you do to me?"
She didn't mean for it to sound so standoffish. But those words just had that kind of effect on people.
"Relax, I just warmed you up, and made sure you were alright," He put his arms up in a way that meant he actually did want her to calm down. "I mean you no harm. Though, I would also like to point out that I am happily married."
He then pointed to his finger, where a pristine silver ring sat on his ring finger.
Looking at it, Samarie couldn't help but think what Marina would look like with one on her finger, while another was on Samarie's own.
Both of them wearing their wedding gowns, the long white dresses she'd only seen in through the eyes of others, but never through her own.
How beautiful they'd both look together. Pictures, cutting the cake… Doing their duties to one another as partners!
Samarie shook her head, as she ignored the way her legs squirmed on their own.
"It's a nice ring," She said without thinking, a quiet pang squeezing her heart. "Wish, I could have my own some day."
"And I doubt you won't," The older man smiled, pouring the two of them separate cups. "My name's August, by the way. I was the one that protected you on the main street earlier."
Glancing at the cup in front of her, Samarie took it, and sat with her knees pressed against her chest. Quietly, she nursed her coffee before it was cool enough to sip.
"Ouch!" Or perhaps it wasn't cold enough yet.
"It's freshly brewed, so you're supposed to let it sit for a bit longer." A polite chuckle tore itself from August. "Perhaps you'd like a chat while waiting to drink?"
He hadn't done anything to her while she was asleep… And he did take care of her when she was vulnerable…
Maybe things were so bad.
"Okay." Samarie answered, a smile coming to life on the gentleman's face.
"So then, what were you doing fighting those… things?" He was unsure about his words, finding it hard to place what she had fought. "My family has fought monsters for generations, and those… I can barely put a finger on what they are."
"One is the Kaiser's loyal servant. The other is a monster from beyond the sea, Vinland."
The words dropped like a heavy weight. Though, Samarie suspected it was due to the former rather than the latter part of what she said.
"The Kaiser's servant?" August was in disbelief. "But, I've never seen anyone like her! Let alone someone who could be so close to the Kaiser."
"Perhaps not," Samarie hummed, warming herself using the coffee. "Maybe you've noticed her only as a shadow, away from the spotlight, and prying eyes. Never so blatantly in the day."
She then pointed up, but she was not pointing at the ceiling. "The moon hangs over Prehevil. Distortions, insanity are rampant in these streets. Would it really be so odd that creatures of the night now walk amongst us, when day and night blur as one?"
Understanding flickered within the man's eyes, nodding as he said, "Then his cabal grows evermore."
Resolve hardened in his heart as his gaze turned stoic. "By the way, you should take a look at the spear you were holding."
Spear? What sp-
It dawned on Samarie. Of what the Sergal's spear had turned into soon after she had taken it from the blood golem.
And as August brandished it, she realized what that change was.
The spear was now colored a deep crimson. And its head was also more narrow. In fact, its entire frame was slimmed down.
In its entirety, the spear had become lighter, more balanced, adopting a profile more similar to a javelin than spear.
It called to her, singing in voices that hissed, in frequencies beyond human, but still resonated with her being.
It thrumbed like a spell on the verge of completing. Danger in weapon form.
It was more than merely cursing a weapon.
It was soaking it in malice… Like a blood pool. The same blood pools from where anomalous entities-the playthings of the gods- were birthed.
Feeling the spear, and understanding its origins, it made more sense now.
It was a weapon meant to bleed an enemy dry. The serrated tip said as much.
"Gae Bolg." The name came to her suddenly, like a bolt of lightning in a storm.
It felt right.
"Nasty stuff, that thing was dipped in," August commented, taking a long sip from his cup. "My family also collected something like it during the dark ages. A nasty sword called Miasma. Bloody thing keeps escaping confinement that it might as well not be though."
Miasma? And he's saying it's similar to her Gae Bolg?
Wait, what was that about collecting?
"Contain? Collect? What kind of family does that kind of thing?"
August let out a deep chuckle, no doubt having heard those very words hundreds of times.
"You aren't wrong to ask. It's certainly a weird past time," There was no heat in his words, just mirthful acceptance. "But, it has been my family's duty since before the day of our forefathers to protect humanity from the darkness. To fight the shadows, so people can see another day."
"And that duty also pertains to this sword?"
"Most certainly!" He seemed to be very interested in the topic, like the sword was his favorite in their entire collection. "Well, there are a few, but none more prolific than the Miasma."
"It has the ability to release a thick, well, miasma which causes audiovisual hallucinations. The kind that make people kill their families, and hunt others to sate the sword's hunger."
Looking down at her spear, Samarie couldn't help but think if it had any other abilities as well.
Reaching out with a mental tether, she channeled otherworldly energy through the spear, a dim scarlet radiance glowing along the barbs of the spear.
Although, she felt that no matter how much she imbued the spear with power, she would never be able to unveil the weapon's true power.
However, even without it, it was still the formidable weapon of the Sergal, corrupted as it was.
"You were trying something?" The older man asked, to which Samarie nodded. "Every weapon's different. Some have tempers. Others have to be taken care of, while most just aren't ready to speak back to you."
He spoke like he had much experience in the topic. Or perhaps he was talking about someone.
The connection made Samarie wonder.
Maybe she herself was like the spear in her hands.
And maybe Marina could have been her wielder?
"But then how do I speak with it?" She asked, quietly hoping the man wouldn't be able to understand the double meaning.
A smirk crossed his lips, as he brushed his immaculate mustache. "Well, there are a few ways, but usually, a weapon will only call to you in your time of need. When your back is pressed against a wall, and it is just you, the weapon, and the enemy in front of you."
"You won't have a choice but to cry to your weapon, calling its true purpose, and unleashing the power contained within."
Turning, August produced a bow from behind him, gently brushing it with his fingers. "And once that happens, a bond that can't be severed forms. You attach a piece of your soul into your weapon. You are one. And you are the weapon."
It was sound advice. Advice Samarie wished she had before the day started, and she ruined everything between the two of them.
But perhaps this experienced man could help her.
"And… what of wo-women? How does one talk to them?" Samarie stuttered, her eyes watering from the blush on her cheeks.
August spat out his coffee, choking as he grabbed a handkerchief from his breast pocket.
"Women? I-... Well…" August found it hard to start, his brows furrowing as the question came from left field. "Well, if you're having troubles with women, then I need to know your situation."
Right, he would need to know what happened to them..
But at the same time, she also needed experience.
Perhaps he had some insights of the romantical kind that would help.
Advice that would be awfully useful.
So, she truthfully explained her situation and how she came here in the first place. Her history, and difficult relationship with Samarie.
He seemed to listen closely, keeping an ear out for the girl.
And a sad smile formed when she arrived at the part where she had confessed on the train.
"So, I am here to learn of the world and experience what it has to offer."
"It's just unfortunate then that you have to do so here…" August finished for her, downing the rest of his refilled cup. "I think, had this been another time, and elsewhere, you would have had a shot. Perhaps if you were patient, and were genuinely supportive, love might have bloomed from your interactions."
His expression turned dark, as his voice deepened. "But, the situation won't permit that. And in a festival like this, where you might die at any moment, I can see why you are so desperate to let out your feelings, and emotions."
"However, I also think you were too hasty."
"Hasty?" A question mark appeared a top Samarie's head, the girl squinting as she listened.
"Yes, hasty," He confirmed, as he stoked the fire. "But not only that, you are approaching love like it will happen if you do enough things for someone."
It was in that instant, that Samarie understood what had gone wrong.
"You are thinking from the perspective that she will like you if you do x, y, and z for her, but never for the little things. The small interactions that keep people together through thick or thin. The true glue that keeps people together."
"Sure, this Marina might see that you are a good person who might be able to take care of her. But how much of her does she know about you? She knows you as the person devoted to her, a subordinate. Not an equal who she can confide in, and you in her."
"So, relationships should be equal?" She carefully asked, her entire worldview shattering.
The Vatican had always spoken of the submissive mother, and the dominant father.
For the woman to be devoted to first her father; then husband, and finally; their sons.
It… felt weird being on the otherside of the equation.
Though, she could at least say that August practiced what he preached.
Afterall, his duties meant he would often be away from home, and his wife stuck tending to their children.
And yet, they were still equal in the relationship.
The brave father sacrificing himself to protect his children. And the selfless mother who worried sick over her husband, but still took care of the household in the hopes he would return to the family with everything as he had left it.
…
Samarie thought. A grimace forming on her face as she recalled the past.
Right.
Neither one of them would be superior over the other.
But it also brought up a question for her.
What was Marina to her?
"I- Thank you, for your words."
"I'm happy to help where I can." August stood, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're about the same age as my daughters, if anything you only helping me when the time comes they start trying to start their own families."
And while his tone was entirely serious, he couldn't help but wince slightly. "But, I doubt I'll be ready for any of that talk…"
Looking around the cavern they were in, he eventually shrugged, snuffing out the fire that was on its last embers. "Hey, Samarie, do you mind helping me out?"
"Huh?"
"Look, I can tell there's a lot on your mind," He explained, "I thought it would help if you let off a bit of steam. And I think I know exactly what would help with that."
Samarie stood, taking a step closer to the man. "Sure, but what for?"
"Well, I'll need you to hold down a dog while I groom it."
A dog? "Can't you do that on your own?" She asked, not seeing the problem.
"Well, this is a special dog. A lot like a jagged jaw, but more kind. He's kind of a family dog." August explained sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "If you help me with it, I'll give you a few more pointers on what you need to improve if you want to win this Marina girl over."
I mean, all I have to do is pacify a dog, right? How hard could it be?
Samarie reasoned it would be an easy job with a reward worth its weight in gold.
She could NOT miss out on the chance!
Although, it did make her wonder.
How was Marina doing while all of this was happening?