Work Text:
- Listen on GDrive here
- Edited by RhetoricalQuestions
- Cover art by TheLordOfLaMancha
In the lore of Water, there are simple facts that cannot be ignored. One, the Sun is never to be trusted for it will tear you apart at a moment's notice. Two, the Moon is kind and benevolent, a goddess and the saviour of Water. Three, if one is very lucky, they may be blessed by the Moon and become Holy.
Holy Water is not necessarily a common occurrence, but neither is it uncommon. It is the sort of thing that happens to a pond you once knew, or another runoff from the same tributary. You never know the one who has become Holy, but you hear of them and vaguely remember their name from previous acquaintance—it is, after all, impossible not to know every part of Water for you are a part of them as much as they are a part of you.
And that is what has happened now. The lake at St. James’ Park has had a piece of them taken and blessed. They are aware of this part existing somewhere nearby but they are no longer linked as tightly as they previously had been, for that piece is now Holy and the lake is not.
This small amount of a lake now resides in a tartan thermos and waits. They have been blessed for a purpose and it is one of the highest calling. No longer did this part of Water take care of weeds, ducks, moss, and other such things. No, this piece of Water existed solely to protect.
And protect they would. For now, they waited. Hidden away behind a lock and a painting, not being a part of their protectee’s life but always in the background ready to fulfil their purpose.