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The sound of thunder boomed as lightning strikead across the gray, stormy clouds above Mor Ardain. Rain fell heavily onto the Titan below, sparing no one caught in the pouring drench. No one sane would be caught outdoors during this dreary night, lest they make a mockery of their own well-being.
Jin was not such a person.
Somewhere in the alleyways of Alba Cavanich, he huddled against a wall that only barely provided shelter thanks to the roof overhang above. It wouldn’t protect him from the heavy drops of water that would drip down from the roof against his head, and it did nothing to protect the rest of his body from being soaked. It was something, however, and Jin was not at liability to choose otherwise.
He scowled and tugged the hood of his drenched robe further down his face, curling up a little more against himself. In a better world, he wouldn’t have had to be in a situation like this. He had the money (earned solely through mercenary work, working himself bare just to have a chance at surviving in a place as unforgiving as this) and he had the chance to get himself a room better than he had been able to afford for who-knows-how long. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of passing by a bar infamous for its rowdy, ill-behaved patrons, and catching the aggression of smelly drunkards hanging in the front just looking for trouble.
Had he the energy, he wouldn’t have given those people the chance of cornering him, rummaging through the only pack he had on him, taking all his hard-earned money and what few materials he had on him. They jeered at him, spouting rude slurs and gestures only behest of people without a shred of dignity. They only ran off once they tried to nab his sword and mask, flinching back in horror when they felt bitter cold that lingered on their skin. They didn’t leave him alone without a kick to his stomach, a final insult towards their victim who struggled to find the energy to give a damn.
Idly, he rubbed his stomach, his breath coming out in hushed shivers. Inside his chest, a heart that wasn’t his thumped loudly in his chest, that accursed reminder of the grave sin he had committed to gain it. The Architect must surely be laughing at his pain and misery, taunting him with constant reminders of how much better his life had once been, and the cruelty of a world that would take it all away from him while their Creator lounged idly, looking down at His creations in contempt yet not caring enough to do anything about it. Or, perhaps, this is exactly what the Architect wants?
It’s a trail of thought that Jin only has too much time to think about now, alone in a smelly alleyway as rain poured down from the heavens above. Had everything that the Aegises allowed to transpire merely a part of the Architect’s master plan? Was Amalthus merely speaking on His behalf, as the accursed Praetor of Indol? Was both Malos and Mythra’s actions simply them delivering divine judgement on Alrest?
In a world like this, what’s the point of being alive?
From a corner of the alley, a crash followed by a cat’s distressed cry distrubed the quiet of the night. Metal boots clinked against the stone floor, masked by the rain as it, growing louder as a gruff, taunting voice rang out. Jin had to wonder if this was just the next step in the Architect’s cruel plan to bring misery upon him, or if he was just starting to hallucinate, hearing the voice of a man who should be dead and decomposed somewhere within the Cloud Sea.
Jin gave no reaction as Malos approached, spouting taunts that he couldn’t muster the energy to bother refuting in his mind. Malos stopped, and Jin could feel his gaze on him - despite his will, his jaw tensed. Malos, the all-knowing, would obviously be able to see past the facade Jin tried to fabricate, seeing his true nature as a Blade without merely an effort. Jin remained silent even as Malos taunted his Driver, questioning their fate as if Malos could already see through Jin and in turn, all his pain and trauma.
Jin finally looked up and met Malos’ eyes. Tired blue eyes met tired grey eyes, staring at one another as the heavy rain filled the silence for them. Water rolled down Jin’s face - Malos made no effort to try and protect himself from the rain.
Jin watched his lips purse before a smirk replaced them, introducing himself and reaching down, his voice ringing within Jin’s ears as he spoke:
“I’m the same as you”.
Malos’ outstretched hand lay before him, a silent offer that rang loud and clear in Jin’s muddled mind. A more logical part of Jin would’ve slapped the hand away, confronted the bastard that stood before him, attempted to strike him down, swearing on the lives of his friends and his family and his kingdom and his dear Driver Lora to finally end this menace that plagued the world.
Unfortunately, that Jin had died along with the people of Spessia.
As Jin reached out and took Malos’ hand, rough with the scars of battle; as the stiffness in Jin’s legs from sitting so long made him collapse; as Malos let out a surprised yell and reached down to support Jin in a gesture the Malos he knew would have never made; as stiff, awkward arms steadied him as together they began walking from the smelly alleyway to a tiny inn half-ruined by mistreatment…
A small voice in Jin’s mind wondered if this moment was actually salvation. Jin, tired and exhausted and malnourished as he was, could not find the strength to argue against the voice.
He was fine walking with the enemy into the darkness.