The pale light of a flickering lantern cast a distorted shadow across the walls of the dimly lit room. A young woman — her fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders like molten strands of copper — stood hunched over a rickety wooden table, her amber eyes reflecting the wavering glow as she meticulously prepared her gear for the journey that awaited her. The room itself bore the scars of time, its walls marred by the wear and tear of years gone by. Faded paint peeled away like old scars, and the ceiling sagged as if it could collapse at any moment — the air was heavy with a musty scent, a mixture of dampness and neglect that clung to every corner.
Her hands moved with practiced precision, each gesture speaking of familiarity born from countless repetitions. With calloused fingers, she carefully inspected the sword propped against the table's edge; the blade was etched with nicks and notches, remnants of past battles that had taken their toll on both the weapon and its wielder. A frayed strap dangled from the hilt — a stark reminder of the repairs she couldn't afford to make. Beside it lay a dented shield, its surface marred by scratches and signs of countless battles fought and won; the emblem emblazoned upon it, once vivid and proud, now faded like a memory slipping into the abyss.
She worked in silence, a somber determination etched onto her features. Her fingertips, roughened by the activities of her daily struggles, gently traced the lines of the sword's edge, a touch that spoke of both familiarity and reverence. With a deep breath, she retrieved a cloth from a nearby stool, and began to meticulously wipe down the blade. Her movements were deliberate and focused, as if each stroke held a piece of her heart and soul.
As she worked, a soft creaking sound permeated the stillness, and the door to the room swung open with a rusty groan; a tall figure stood in the doorway, his presence casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room like an omen — his voice, tinged with a blend of concern and resignation, cut through the air, breaking the cocoon of silence that had enveloped the young woman.
"Do you really have to go so soon?" He asked, his tone tinged with a mix of weariness and longing. "It hasn't even been a week..."
"I know, love," she paused her work, her gaze lifting from the sword to meet his eyes. The lantern's light danced across the contours of his face, revealing the lines etched by time and hardship. "But we both know that there's no other choice..." A faint smile made its way onto her lips, her voice carrying with it a weight that spoke of the countless struggles they had faced together. "After all, lien doesn't exactly grow on trees..."
"I know, Heather..." A small sigh escaped from his lips, a mixture of understanding and frustration evident in his features — the words that followed were tinged with an undercurrent of resignation. "But I just... I can't help but worry about you out there..."
"You know I can take care of myself, love..." Her gaze returned to the sword, her smile faltering for a moment as she set the cloth aside. "I've been through worse... and I never failed to come back, no?" She spoke softly, her words a reassurance laced with the ache of countless farewells. "There's really no need to worry... it's a Class-D freelance job, so it won't be that dangerous; besides, it's not like I'll be alone for the mission."
"You've always been strong..." Her husband stepped further into the room, the lantern's light casting a warm glow upon his tired features. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the small of her back, his eyes bore a mix of pride and concern — a silent acknowledgment of the strength that radiated from her person. "It's just... times are tough, and I wish I could do more to support you."
A bittersweet smile played at the corners of her lips as her gaze locked with his in a tender moment that spoke volumes without the need for words; her hand found its way to his own, her fingers intertwining with his as if to anchor herself to the familiarity that he offered — the warmth of her touch a balm to the worries etched upon his face.
YOU ARE READING
Remnant of Void & Flame (Honkai Impact 3rd/RWBY)
AdventureShe had made a contract, one that binds her across time and space to a power beyond her comprehension. Now, she must face the consequences of her actions, and in time, perhaps she might just be able to find the happiness that she seeks.
