It wouldn’t do, ensuring this wasn’t another false start, only to end up falling down some stairs and breaking your neck. And who knew what the terrain in the tablet room was like? She probably should have asked the welcome wagon that, but too late now, she was already descending the stairs and into the dark. There was no trace of hesitation in her movement, just fool-hardy confidence and a slight shiver from the cold against her skin.
The woman wasn't sure what to expect, even drawing from childhood occult-slash-fantasy icons didn't help. Darna and Captain Barbell had their talismans of power thrust (or fall) upon them, while the Panday grabbed his destiny through blood, sweat, and tears (not all of it his own.) Maybe it would be like Magic-to-Win, she'd meet a talking furry creature that would guide her to her promised weapon, or it would reveal its true form as her weapon. Worst case scenario was it would be a deranged refrigerator that would test her worth by trying to consume her.
Joy made a face and hoped it wouldn't be the possessed appliance. She got the feeling that if she broke it, she'd have to pay for it and the spoiled food inside. Plus, what the ******** kind of weapon would a refrigerator end up as? Her thoughts rambled on, until bare feet reached the bottom of the stairs and all thinking stopped.
In the chamber she waited, alert and eager to hear her weapon's voice. Her head turned this way and that, dark brown eyes darted from rune to rune; ears open for the faintest call. But all she could see were faintly glowing tablets. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the occasional drip of water onto stone.
Oh s**t, she was supposed to play the waiting game? She'd rather take on the psychotic refrigerator! Dread began to knot in the pit of her stomach and the chill spreading through her had nothing to do with the Cove's cold, wet atmosphere. What if, what if this was yet another mistake? What if she still wasn't supposed to be awake? What if she really, truly was a freak like Dr. H said and this was the proof they (whoever they were) needed to disqualify her from being a true-blue Hunter?
Well, ********> she thought with a grimace, not liking the direction her thoughts were taking. Bouncing on the balls of her feet did nothing to distract her, neither did repeatedly scanning the runes for any signs of life.
There was a grunt, which Joy first thought had been her. She was feeling more than a little frustrated so it wasn't really a stretch of the imagination. But then there was not so much as a voice but a sensation of someone calling for her attention. Like someone was watching her and burning a hole through her with their gaze.
"Father Salvi,
Another grunt and this time the sound didn't so much as pass through her ears but rather manifested itself directly in her mind. She remembered something Cap'n said about having another presence, another being inside your head. Maybe that was her weapon finally reaching out to her. Joy smiled despite herself, and the feeling of being called grew stronger, more insistent, and was heavily under-toned with impatience and annoyance. With her free hand she reached out to touch the runes, mental tendrils coiling around her wrist, leading her towards one tablet in particular. When her fingers brushed its surface, she heard a reedy voice rasp: Here.
There was blinding light, the echo of shoes clattering on stone floor, and a weight settling in Joy’s hands.
She looked down and was confused by what she found. It was... what the ******** was it? Her brows knitted together as she studied what appeared to be something that couldn't make up its mind if it was a shovel or an axe, and then decided to try and be both. Joy raised the weapon, lightly tapped the flat of the blade, and asked "Hello? Tao po?"
She heard a snort from within the confines of her mind. Then No.
"Hey, you answered.
The weapon-presence made itself felt and Joy got the vague notion of a figure shrugging their shoulders.
"I'm Ligaya," she introduced all the same, "But you can call me Joy. Or Happy. Heck, I even respond to Haps or Lee depending on the person and how often you call me one thing."
Again the suggestion of shrugging shoulders, as if the plethora of nicknames were inconsequential.
"Taray mo naman, 'te," she teased, "What am I supposed to call you? Unless you're okay with just hoy?"
Yes.
"What? No! Hoy is not a name. Dehins pwede, pare," Joy firmly declared, pointing a finger at the bladed shovel.
There was annoyed rumble and an idea of an eye-roll in the back of her mind before the same reedy voice answered, Kubyerto
"Is it okay if I call you Bert for short?" she offered, trying to get a conversation going, or at least draw out more information. She got the distinct impression she was being ignored. Instead of taking offense, she just laughed it off, murmuring "
That mangled idiom elicited a mental double-take from the weapon but Bert quickly settled back to pretending he couldn't hear his bonded. With a snort of laughter, Joy retrieved her shoes and shouldered the bladed shovel by the handle. Bare feet made their way back up the stairs two steps at a time.
