【战锤40k同人作品翻译】Ennui 第二十章：消磨 Passes

儿子/闺女，起来干活！
本章概述：
亚历桑德拉做出抉择。
In which Alessandra makes choices.
正文：
这很是奇怪，是你能逐渐习惯的那种奇怪。
我轻抚着五天前从小教堂那里挽救的精工动力甲上光滑的陶钢。我最近一直心不在焉，一身伤病让我在疲劳到能倒头就睡前做不了什么， 因此我转而研究起这件盔甲。
尽管它无需再被抛光，我还是一边用一块软布擦拭着陶钢一边念出每一条祷文，确保它的每一寸都光亮如新，同时让自己试着不去想到这一片寂静。
整个住所都静悄悄的，而我一点也不喜欢这样。
每当一切安静下来，我的内心就会变得嘈杂，而当它变得吵闹时，心情便会趋于……糟糕。
记忆如潮水般涌入，关于我的姐妹们的记忆…….那场灾难性的着陆……在被炸成一片废墟的安菲特里亚上慌不择路地逃窜，还要在数个昼夜间保持清醒。
“地球的帝皇呵，愿您祝福这件圣洁的战甲，”我轻声低语，用那只完好的手上的软布拂过肩甲。我的左臂正在恢复期，但进展还是缓慢。“愿沉眠其中的高贵机魂以刚健直面艰险，盖因敌人众多，危难常驻，然历经坎坷……帝皇庇佑。”

我放下了软布，紧咬着嘴唇，回想起了我带走盔甲的那座神殿里的姐妹们。
“帝皇……庇佑，”我颤抖着重复道。
我的思绪万千，现在急需什么能让我更加分散注意力的事情，可伊莎莱一时半会儿也回不来。
幸好我还有一件任务可做，但愿它能在她回来前占据我的大部分时间。
我穿过居所走向放着我自己的动力甲的地方。它受损严重，但尽管伤痕累累，它的机魂仍顽强地坚守着自己的岗位。
我跪在胸甲前，小心翼翼地将它翻了个面，然后开始默念起休眠仪式，诱使机魂陷入沉睡并断开与各个子系统的连接。我对这个可怜虫充满感激，它在我于安菲特里亚上历经磨难时一直保我周全，我真诚地希望它能够安全地回到阿尔伯雷亚修道院的军械库里。它的勤勉配得上一轮彻底的清洁和修复，可当下我只能让它暂时喘口气。
随着最后一个系统停止工作，我解开了主反应堆上的最后几道保险栓和密封口，打开凹室并取出了动力核心。
它隐隐带着一丝温暖，充盈着帝皇作为全能机械神的一面的祝福。
据说这电池中盛放有受缚的星辰之火，一想到这是我们的作品，是人类的杰作，我内心的信念便得到了进一步的印证。

轻轻怀抱着电池，我带着它回到了教堂里的那件盔甲边并将其放下。
“古老的机魂呵，祝福汝的沉眠，”我一边吟唱着一边解开盔甲背上的凹室的密封。“神皇之女恳求汝的复苏，因汝之责任未尽。”
准备好动力凹室后，我拿起电池，小心地将它放上去，随后将之滑入接口处。
“吾给予汝这搏动的心脏，”我继续说道，“这将汝从安眠中唤醒之火。”
电池连入盔甲时发出一声脆响，第一阵提示灯光开始沿着主系统黯淡地闪烁起来。
“现在便苏醒吧，圣灵呵，我们需要汝之威能，因敌军又一次考验我们，”我开始按下仪式流程中的几个激活符文。“汝忠贞不屈，汝矢志不渝，欧姆弥赛亚——即是神皇之赐福降临于汝。”
盔甲随着我完成唤醒仪式嗡嗡作响，它的诸多系统反馈了一系列的健康的绿灯，同时古老的机魂自行苏醒，现在它的活力和战备程度不逊以往。我抚过正在发热的系统们，微笑着倾听着机魂的咔嚓与啁啾。
我不是个技术神甫，所以我听不懂它在说什么，但机魂活泼的唠叨还是让我露出了笑容。这个机魂已经为修女会服务了数个世纪，甚至可能有上千年，而与它同在让我安心。一个想法令我倍感宽慰：即便我们战斗修女以祂之名殉道，我们的武备也可以被下一代人拿走，带往神圣的战争中去，与机魂的记忆同往的也有着我们自己的一部分。

“早安，”随着盔甲的炽热核心响起了悦耳的节拍声，我轻笑着说道。
片刻之后，一阵微弱的静电音和噼啪声传进了我的耳朵，我皱了皱眉。我还以为能听到……
当我踱到盔甲前把手伸进护颈里时，我一时间瞪大了双眼。
主通讯线路处在激活状态。
那是一条设置在修女会的优先通讯频道上的自动循环呼叫，为任何还活着的战斗修女提供集结坐标，并指示她们尝试前往安菲特里亚北部边界上的花园隐修院（Priory of Gardens）。
一意识到并非所有的姐妹都在首次登陆中被杀，我的心情便高涨起来。我的小队或许已经陨落，但证明并非所有的登陆都如此糟糕的证据还是极大地鼓舞了我的精神。
跟据它的声音，已经有足够多的人员成功登陆并协助卫军保护着隐修院，不然的话这段循环播报还会带有警告编码。
随着一次次循环，我的心逐渐沉了下来。
她们不但安好……循环播报还为所有落单的修女提供了撤离点，意味着我们的登陆艇至少有一艘幸存了下来。
她们会锁定任何定位信标并——
“妈的！”
我破口大骂并冲向盔甲，拉起护颈找到了传声系统，果不其然，信标已经准备好发送了，而我想都没想就伸手把它弹了下去，随即松了口气。

如果它发送出去了，我的姐妹们就会知道我的位置，然后——
我的心沉跌进了谷底。
——然后……我为什么要这么做？
定位信标会告我姐妹们我的确切位置。我可以撤离并在两个标准时内回到我的修会的怀抱中，只要她们调动迅速，如果附近有个机组人员的话可能花的时间会更少。
而我只需要重新打开定位器，然后……
伊莎莱。
我转身离开了盔甲，盯着住所的门。
她还要好几个小时才能回来。如果我现在就呼叫我的姐妹们，她们就能神不知鬼不觉地把我撤走。伊莎莱已经带走了她的喷气摩托和装备，所以没有迹象能表明曾有一个灵族跟我在一起。我可以打开它，回到我的修会和我的姐妹们那里。
我可以回到我的生活中。
而伊莎莱会走向她的死亡。
如果我现在就离开，那伊莎莱就会回到一个空的…什么？空的家里？这不是我们的家，这是我们擅自挪用的别人的家。
然而，在过去的几天里，这里已经感觉上像是个家了。
至少，这里感觉有点像我曾经想象的一个家的感觉。
无论怎样，这里都会人去楼空，而伊莎莱会意识到我离开了她，然后她也会离开，去追寻她来到这个世界时所追寻的东西。

我不想要伊莎莱死，我知道的就这么多。我对此有着各种各样的理由，其中最有力的一个之一单纯是我欠她好几条命。我早就不再从她的行动中寻找隐藏的动机，逐渐接受了一个灵族女性仅仅只是想让我活下来的事实，因为……因为她喜欢我。
因为我们是……盟友？
我们不仅仅只是盟友，或至少她对我有着更多的意义，我也想相信自己对她不只是意味着这个。
我再一次倾听着通讯线路的自动循环播报，而我们离开小教堂时伊莎莱对我说的话又回到了我的耳边。
为了你，亚历桑德拉，我会做任何事。
“任何事……”我温柔地嘀咕着。
我把手伸进盔甲里，找到了传声单元，断开了电力供给，那自动循环的消息便陷入了静默。
当伊莎莱在大约四个半小时后回来时，我已经回去清洁我的爆弹枪了。它早就一尘不染并上了油，但也没有理由冒险。
“欢迎回来，”我对着她微笑，她点点头，把挎包丢在地上，嘴唇微微地上扬。
她开始卸下补给，大部份又是食物和药品。
“我给你找了些东西，”伊莎莱停止卸货，在包里翻腾了一阵。
她拿起了一个小盒子并递给我。我对着这个光滑的金属匣子扬起眉毛，然后接过去打开，随后张大了嘴巴。

“我在一座高塔里找到了这个，”伊莎莱一边继续卸货一边解释说。“它和你脸颊上的记号相符，所以我觉得你或许会喜欢它。”
“那是朵鸢尾花（fleur de lis），”我轻声说道，从天鹅绒内衬里抽出那个镶有宝石的发夹。“它是我的整个修会的标志，是修女会的记号。”
“一个圣徽？”她问到，看着我扬起了眉毛。
我点点头。
是我的信仰的象征。
我想知道这是命运使然还是别的什么。是陛下对我所负使命的提醒，还是对我的选择的奇怪的默许。
我来这里是有某种理由的吗？抑或我和伊莎莱共度的时光是对我的使命的懈怠？
一只手按在了发夹上，我抬头看到伊莎莱跪在我的身边，她修长而优美的手指从我手上取下了发夹。在我来得及问她为什么这么做前她便用手指编起我的头发，在我耳后别下一缕，并用鸢尾花将之固定到位。
“你瞧，”伊莎莱微笑着用指节轻拂过我的脸颊，“它跟你很是相配。”
她欣赏着我，她的笑容一时之间把我钉在了原地，然后她便起身，在短暂得令人心痛的一瞬间贴着我的额头，然后转身去归纳她的收获。
“等你恢复得差不多了，我们就该开始拳击训练了，”伊莎莱边说边筛选着补给。“这样会在你恢复后加固你的四肢。”

“我觉得它会的，”我嘀咕着，我的手指在发夹上停留了一会儿，然后我抬起头来微笑着看向她。“你会教我怎么像你那样移动吗？”
“如果有可能的话，那当然了，”伊莎莱越过肩膀对我狡黠一笑，我的心跳顿时漏了一拍。
我不确定自己该不该为关掉信标而后悔，而我只知道我没有后悔。
——————————————————————————————————————
“不要只是猛扣扳机，”伊莎莱在另一阵野蛮的毒晶开火打中临时标靶时责备道。“毒晶武器可不是爆炸物。”
“我在努力了，”我边抱怨边松散地握住武器，又一次举枪瞄准。“我几乎还没碰到扳机呢！”
“那可不是个好兆头，”她冷幽默地回答道，带着挑剔的表情绕着我打转。
藜芦是与它的姊妹悔恨一同构成伊莎莱仅有的远程武器的毒晶手枪的名字。我花了七天来无聊到乞求她给我上课，她则欣然应允。我们并没有在据为己有的居所里尝试它，而是去了往上一层的风化稍严重的套间里，并设置了一系列的重组木板作为靶子。
“你们的武器粗制滥造，每次开火都会浪费太多的能量，”伊莎莱漫不经心地评论道。“毒晶手枪没有上跳，没有浪费的能量，因此只需最巧妙最轻柔的触碰。”

随着伊莎莱溜到我身后，我整个人都僵住了，她把我她的双臂与我的对齐，让我们的位置成一条直线，拿起了藜芦并举枪瞄准。
“看好了，”她的嗓音化作温和的细浪打在我的耳朵上。
标靶上出现了另外半打新的伤痕，而就我所知她甚至还没弯曲手指。
“你是怎么——？”
“别看我的手，亚历莎，”伊莎莱指示道，“往低了看……沿着手腕往下，看好那些肌腱……”
我强行让目光稳稳地锁定在她的手腕上，瞬息间我看到她苍白的皮肤下肌肉出现了最低程度的一颤，随即又有一些碎片钉进了靶子里。
“最轻微的压力就能启动拱弹，”伊莎莱轻声说道，抓过我的手，把它放回了握把上。“磁性供弹器会在毒晶薄片折断在弹膛里时抓住它们，并以接近高超音速把它们推出出。”
我缓缓地深呼吸了一次，专注于伊莎莱做过的事情。我收缩起肌肉，首先是二头肌，然后是前臂，小心翼翼地控制着，然后施压，随后感到手臂里积攒的压力沿着肌肉一路增长，直至……
随着一阵碎片以与伊莎莱开枪时几乎完全相同的方式打上了标靶，我几乎蹦了起来，一阵得意的浪潮涌上心头！
“哈！”我嬉皮笑脸地转向伊莎莱，“你看到了吗？！我……!”

她正对着我微笑。
她低头看着我，眼中闪着微光，脸上带着灿烂的笑容，和……自豪。
“很好，”她点点头，拍拍我的肩膀。“现在只需学着按照指令这么做，我们或许还能把你变成一个精确射手呢。”
———————————————————————————————————————
十个昼夜。
我的世界完全是一片飞舞的拳头和剧烈的动作。伊莎莱快得难以置信，在居所中心练习拳击时我几乎无法避免被侧击打中。
她的风格跟帝国的完全不同。
她如液态火焰般移动，吞噬着眼前的空间并蔓延到周围的一切事物上。有那么一次她离我几步远，而在下一个瞬间她就进入了我的防区，把我的手肘打向一边，破坏了我的姿态，切断了我的下盘，然后我就躺到地上了。
“再快点，Cre’yth，”伊莎莱伸出一只手，对着我得意地笑了笑。“我们还会让你变得更快。”
我踉跄着从地上站了起来，伊莎莱皱起了眉头。
“你才刚刚恢复过来，”她温柔地责备道，双手环着我把我拉到座位上。
“我还好，”我不屑地摆摆手。“我只是无所事事太久了，虽说我的确气喘吁吁，这是挺烦人的，但还不是世界末日呢。”

“移动时步伐要稳，亚历莎，”伊莎莱把汗湿的头发从我脸上拨开，又一次露出微笑。“我觉得我们很快就能让你比以前更强。”
她的触碰比她的话语更舒适，尽管我不确定要如何承认这点，甚至不确定是否该这么做。
我当然很确定她知道。鉴于我们如何度过夜晚，她又怎么不会呢？没有她在身边的话我几乎睡不着，而那双环绕着我的修长而美丽的双臂已经迅速地变成了一项刚需。
没有它们，噩梦总是会回来。
血与死亡……姐妹们空洞而冷漠的凝视……血肉烧焦和城市燃烧的气味。
所有这些都被伊莎莱的冷烟的味道驱散了。
她的双臂在她扶着我走向浴室并开始放水的时候继续支撑着我。我们已经在几天前熟练掌握了去掉香油的技巧，因此这现在可以忍受得多了。
“你的胳膊已经接近痊愈了，”伊莎莱边说边把我放到浴室边上。
我的肢体正因劳累而打颤，肌肉仍因外伤，弃置和恢复时的劳损而稍有萎缩。
“我为此感激神皇，”我回答道，随着热水浴准备完成而呼吸沉重。“我可不想在职业生涯中这么早就被迫用上辅助设备。”
“嗯，”伊莎莱轻笑着坐到我身后的石质地板上，开始往我的头上打泡沫。“我建议你去拜访下我的血伶人，如果他还活着的话……我敢肯定他的实验室里还有几条闲置的手臂能给你用。”

“我不敢肯定你是不是在开玩笑，”我平淡地看了她一眼，而她回敬的神秘莫测的笑容并没有回答这个问题。
“肌肉移植几乎不会引起注意，”她漫不经心地说，一遍按摩我的头发和头皮。“而且我强烈推荐激素腺体……你的睡眠可完全不是你说的那样。”
“我最近已经不怎么在意了，”我柔声回道，随后想到伊莎莱的听力有多好，便咬住了嘴唇。
她灵巧的双手停顿了一下，随后又继续手上的动作，但她没有回答。
“抱歉，”我过了一会儿回答道。
“用不着这样，”她回答道，然后收起双手，拍拍肩膀告诉我她完事了，随后开始冲洗泡沫。
我把头埋进水面下，搅动着的热水在冲洗前带了走头上的汗液，我享受着这份热意。
伊莎莱最后也滑进了水里，尽管我怀疑她一滴汗也没流过，然后我转过身去让她冲洗我的头发。
说真的，我甚至不是很确定这次还是否需要伊莎莱的帮助，我的双臂很疲惫，但也不是一无是处。然而，在过去的几个昼夜里我们已经愈发习惯呆在一起，她也在我的手臂恢复时开始为我清洗头发。
出于某些原因，我从未让她停下来过，而伊莎莱看上去也从未想要这么做过。不管她有着什么理由，这个灵族女性似乎享受着这么照顾我，我也得承认我也享受她的溺爱。

我觉得我会喜欢这样的原因是，与伊莎莱相处时从未有高人一等的感觉。她在陪练时狠狠地收拾了我，在我们结束前从不放松。然后她又会格外小心地确保我的健康和安全，她会照顾我。
这样感觉很好。
伊莎莱的胳膊在水下绕过我的腰间，随着她把我拉近，我哼出了一声细微的同意。我让她这么做，一直如此……她的触碰从未不受欢迎，我转过头依偎在她的颈弯上。
“你这人可真是古怪，亚历莎，”伊莎莱轻笑着说。
亚历莎。
我都不确定她是什么时候开始这么称呼我的，说真的我也没细想过，就像我记不起自己是什么时候和她熟络到称她为’莱一样。我们都没有为此发表过看法，也未曾抱怨，我们只是把这个当做一个愉快的习惯陷了进去。
“说出这句话的是一个刚刚还在为我洗头的黑暗灵族，”我回敬道，伊莎莱神秘地笑了笑。
这份热度让我倍感舒适，伊莎莱更是如此，我把自己拉进了些直到完全贴在了她身上，几乎把脸埋在了她的脖颈间。
那份冲动就在此时找上了我。
它突如其来到我甚至没来得及细想就沉浸于此。
我亲吻了伊莎莱的脖颈。
出于某种原因我期待着她的劝阻，或是训斥，但她没有。她只是在这个触碰下僵硬了一会儿，随后就放松了下来。

圣徒们都知道我不该再这么做了。我真的，真的不应该这么做……这是个黑暗灵族，无论我们有多熟络，不管我们奇怪的关系如何，这肯定太过分了。
可是，教堂里的那个吻的记忆依旧缠绕着我。伊莎莱的嘴唇在我的身上留下的感觉……
我轻轻颤抖着，俯身再次亲吻她的脖颈。
又是一次。
又是一次。
每一次都逐渐往上，我的手轻轻抱着她的脖子，感受着她加速的脉搏。
我停在了她的长而尖的耳朵下方。作为生理结构上的警示物，它告诉我自己正在和一个明显非人的存在沉溺于这个冲动中。
异端。
这个想法在我的脑海中一闪而过，我后退了一步，深吸了一口气，然后向前倾倒，额头抵在伊莎莱的肩膀上。
“对不起，”我用生硬的语气又一次说了出来，“我……我不知道自己是怎么了。”
伊莎莱只是摇了摇头，随着她用双臂拉近并紧紧地搂住我，我注意到了她脸颊上的一片淡淡的红晕。
她什么也没说，甚至没有动作。她只是用一股近乎绝望的力量抱着我，修长的手指埋进了我的发丝间，脸抵在我的头顶上。
在这个过程中，我能听到她的心跳，既微弱，又震耳欲聋。

一想到它或许会在某一天安静下来，一阵苦涩的电流便穿过了我的全身，突然之间我的双臂也搂住了伊莎莱，尽我所能地紧紧抱着她。
伊莎莱……我的伊莎莱。
神皇宽恕我。
——————————————————————————————————————
“Ao’lanya!” 
我在第一式的眼花缭乱的动作中旋转，踏着复杂的步法以刀片状的剃刀连枷切割斩击。
“Beith’ha!”
随着第一式的收尾和第二式的展开，我的拇指微微地压上握把的网格，将我的手臂拉出一道错综复杂的圆弧。分段的刀刃轻响着弹开，在我的周身飞舞。
“Mar’Saim!”
我将动作的力度转变为一个跳跃，剃刀连枷在我的身边嘶嘶作响，一时间将我包围在了锋利的金属片中间。
随后我身体前倾，拇指一抖将刀片收回，施加的力道刚好足够快速地拉动刀片，但又没有大到让它们像台钳一样包裹住我，毕竟我已经看着伊莎莱做过很多次了。
我双脚落地，将自身的动量用刀刃的一记猛砍释放出去。在连枷弯曲到最大弧度的一瞬间我又猛地放出了这条卷须，又一次将刀片甩成一连串的弧线，力道之狠辣撕开了我面前的墙壁。

“够了！”伊莎莱喊道，我立刻回到了第一式，摆开架势将一节节刀片收成一整片利刃。
“我做到了！”我低声喊道，肺脏因力竭绷得紧紧的，我在落地的位置上一屁股坐了下来，大口大口的地呼吸着空气。
人类的身体本不应该像这般移动，但就像我对伊莎莱说的，我们首先是一个适应力很强的物种。不过，天衣无缝地完成三套完整的Lacerai招式让我精疲力竭，而伊莎莱能分毫不差地施展全部十七个，这实在是难以置信。
“我觉得，除非你正在和另一个我的同类交手，否则就不需要移动地那么快，”伊莎莱指出这点，坐到我的身边。我不知为何，但感觉她看上去比以前更加惨白了。“对你们的种族来讲，你就像是刀锋死神的幻影一样。”
“但我还是远不及你，”我指出。
她的脸上短暂地划过一丝奇怪的悲伤，随后又微笑着摇摇头。
“你是人类，亚历莎，”她轻笑着回答道。“你的生理特性并不完全支持这些招式和动作。”
“我不觉得我们看上去有多么不同，”我回击道，上上下下地打量着她，几乎掩饰不住地享受其中。“你只是比我瘦高了一些。”
“我不是这个意思，”伊莎莱伸出她裸露的手臂并转动，收缩。“肌肉和肌腱在灵族的身体框架里处在不同的位置上。”

随着她转动身体，我开始明白她的意思了，我好奇这是不是人类看到灵族时感到的微妙的错误感之一。他们的身形与我们的十分相似，但我们之间的细微差别已经足够留下形貌意义上的不适。
“骨骼的排布也有所不同，”她继续说道。“而我们的反应速度也相差悬殊。”
“我觉得我知道你在说什么了，”我伸手抚摸着她身上对应着人类的二头肌的肌肉。
然后我向下摸索，直到我们的手掌相遇，十指相扣。
我们两个都盯了相扣的双手许久，然后伊莎莱终于摇了摇头，虚弱地轻笑起来。
“我们还能这么做多久呢，Cre’yth？”
我皱起眉头。
“做什么？”
“这个！”伊莎莱指向我们四周。“你最终必须要回到你的修会，不是吗？”
我的眉头拧得更紧了。“是——是这样，可直到现在她们在哪还尚不可知呢！”
此乃谎言。
我知道她们在哪。
“我们可以定位到她们，”伊莎莱提议，“你还有一场要继续进行的战争，对吗？而且你早就恢复到足以参战的程度了！”
“嗯，确实，可是——！”
“那么，你想要抛弃你的修会吗？”

我愣住了。
伊莎莱的话语戳穿了我为自己一直坚决回避的那个问题找的的论据和理由。
我还能为我的拖延找上多久的理由？当她们为保卫花园修道院中心的圣殿而战死，而我却在一旁袖手旁观时，我还能问心无愧多久？
“三十个昼夜，亚历莎，”伊莎莱无情地说。“自我们在这里住下已经过去了三十天了，而我把你带回来也不只是为了让你恢复健康，也是为了让你更加坚强。”
“我知道！”我厉声说道。“你觉得我意识不到这点吗？！你觉得我在这间小屋里安然无恙地时候就不关心我的姐妹们还在生死一线吗？！”
“那你为什么还在这里拖着？！”
“因为知道你会死也一样难以忍受！”我咆哮出这句话，伊莎莱猛地回过神来。“我只要一离开你，你就会离开，然后你就会——”
剩下的想法卡在了嘴边。我忍受不了……单是这个想法就让我心如刀绞，因此我更紧地抓住了伊莎莱的手。
“我无论如何都会死的，亚历莎，”伊莎莱站了起来，抽回自己的手，把剃刀连枷从我那里拿回来固定到腰上。“等着我……我会找到你的姐妹们。”
“为什么？”我厌恶自己的声音如此之小。“为什么是现在？”

伊莎莱轻轻地叹了口气。
“有一场暴风雨正在逼近，相当大的一场，”她回答道。“如果我们现在不动身的话，我们可能要一个多星期后才能再试一次，也许更久。”
“我们就不能再等这一周吗？”我任性地说出口，随后又愁眉苦脸起来。“算了……随你怎么做吧，伊莎莱。”
她畏缩于我用了她的全名，以及我语气中的咬牙切齿。
“我只做我必须做的事，”伊莎莱悲伤地回答。“我这么做是因为视你若珍宝，亚历莎。”
然后她就离开了。
伊莎莱消失在了窗户外，连脚步声的回响都没有。我在原地待了许久，最终还是迫使自己站起来，艰难地回到我们共享的住处。
喷气摩托不见了，我对伊莎莱或许还会重新考虑并等着我的希望也消失了。
教堂里的那件盔甲的反光吸引了我的注意力，我向它走去。它干净整洁，这出自我之手，我考虑起了伊莎莱的提问的含义。
我愿意放弃我的修会吗？
我的姐妹们？
为了一个灵族？
我厌恶于自己无法立刻给出答案，哪怕是在内心深处。我只知道我欠伊莎莱一个真相。
我已经知道我的姐妹们在哪的真相。

我这么久以来选择和她在一起而不是她们的真相。
然后我会乞求她和我一起回去，接受制裁……说不定我们甚至可以被……
我叹了口气。
不，那样的话对帝国的要求可能就太高了，但至少我会告诉她我的心声。我也欠她这个真相，也欠自己这个真相。
原文：
It’s strange, what you can get used to.
I ran my hands over the smooth ceramite of the artificer armour we had rescued from the chapel five cycles ago. My thoughts were full of distraction lately, and my injuries meant that I couldn’t simply practice forms until I was exhausted enough to fall asleep, so instead I worked on the armour.

While it didn’t need to be polished, I still spoke each of the litanies over it as I ran a soft cloth across the ceramite, ensuring every inch of it was clean while I tried to keep myself from thinking about the quiet.
The whole of the quarters were quiet and I did not like it one bit.
When it was quiet, my mind would get loud, and when it got loud it would tend to get… bad. 
Memories would flood in, memories of my sisters… of the disastrous landing… of running pell-mell through the bombed-out nightmare of Amphitria while staying awake for cycles on end.

“Emperor on Earth, bless this holy wargear,” I muttered quietly as I ran the cloth over the left pauldron with my good hand. My left arm was healing, but slowly. “May the noble spirit who slumbers within be hale in the face of danger, for the foes are many, the threats eternal, yet through it all… the Emperor protects.”
I lowered the cloth and bit my lip as I recalled the sisters of the shrine I’d taken the armour from.
“The Emperor… protects,” I repeated shakily.

My mind was racing. I needed something to distract myself further, and Isarae wouldn’t be back for hours.
Fortunately I still had a task I could do, and hopefully one that would take up the majority of my time until she was back.
I crossed the quarters to where my own power armour was laid out. It was badly damaged, but the machine spirit still doggedly persisted with its duty in spite of its wounds.
Kneeling before the cuirass, I turned it over carefully and began muttering the rites of slumber, coaxing the machine spirit to sleep with every disconnected subsystem. I was grateful to the poor thing, it had kept me safe and alive throughout my ordeal in Amphitria, and I dearly hoped I could return it to the armories of the Convent Arborea safely. It deserved a thorough round of cleansing and repairs for its diligence, but for now I could only grant it reprieve.

With the last system put to rest, I released the final locks and seals on the suit’s main reactor, opened the alcove, and drew out the power cell.
It was faintly warm and hummed with the blessings of the Emperor in his aspect as the Machine God.
The cell was said to contain the caged fires of a star, and the notion that this was our work, the work in mankind, was yet more proof of my faith in my mind.
Cradling the cell with care, I carried it back to the chapel armour and set it down.

“Oh ancient spirit, blessed be thy slumber,” I intoned as I released the alcove seals on the back of the armour. “This daughter of the Emperor implores thee awaken, for thy duty is not discharged.”
With the power alcove prepared, I took up the cell and carefully set it into place before sliding it into the junction.
“This beating heart I give to thee,” I continued, “this fire to wake thee from thy rest.”
The cell clicked as it linked into the armour, and the first lights began to flicker sullenly awake along the main systems.

“Wake now, oh Spirit, thy might is needed for the Enemy tests us once again,” I began pressing the runes of activation in the ritual combinations. “Thou art faithful, thou art true, and the blessings of the Omnissiah who is the God-Emperor be upon thee.”
The armour hummed dutifully to life as I completed the rite of awakening, and its various systems reported a series of healthy green lights as the noble old spirit roused itself, no less vital and battle-ready now than it ever was. I ran my hand over the warming systems and smiled, listening to the spirit click and chirp.

I was no techpriest, so I couldn’t understand what it was saying, but the lively chatter of the spirit made me smile nonetheless. This machine spirit had served the Adeptus Sororitas for centuries, maybe even millennia, and being in its presence gave me comfort. I took reassurance from the idea that even as we Sisters of Battle fell as martyrs in His name our wargear could be taken up again by the next generation to be carried to holy war, and with it some part of us was carried in the memory of the machine spirits.

“Good morning,” I said with a small laugh as the armour finally settled into a pleasant beat of its fiery core.
A faint wash and crackle of static struck my ears a moment later, and I frowned. I thought I could hear…
My eyes widened as I stepped around to the front of the suit and reached into the gorget. 
The primary comlink was active.
It was a call set to autocycle on a Sororitas priority vox channel giving coordinates for rendezvous for any Sisters of Battle who yet lived, and instructing them to try and reach the Priory of Gardens at the northern edge of Amphitria.

My heart soared as I realised that not all of my sisters had been slain in the initial landing. My squad may have fallen but the proof that not all of the landings had not gone so poorly buoyed my spirits considerably.
From the sounds of it, enough of them had landed in support of the Guard to secure the Priory itself, otherwise the autocycle would contain a coded warning.
As the cycle continued, my heart started to sink.
Not only were they secure… the cycle offered extraction to any isolated Sisters, meaning at least one of our landing crafts had survived.

They would lock on to any locator signum and-
“Frak!” 
I cursed as I lunged for the armour, pulled at the gorget, and found the vox system. Sure enough, the signum was getting ready to transmit, and without thinking I reached out and flicked it off, then breathed a sigh of relief.
If that had gone off my Sisters would have known where I was and-
My heart fell.
-and… why did I do that?
The locator signum would have told my Sisters my exact location. I could be extracted and returned to the embrace of my Order in under two hours standard if they mobilised quickly enough, maybe even less if a crew was close by.

All I had to do was turn the locator back on and…
Isarae.
I turned away from the armour to stare at the door to the quarters.
She wouldn’t be back for several hours. If I called my sisters down now they could retrieve me and no one would be the wiser. Isarae had taken the jetbike and her gear, so there were no signs anywhere that an Eldar had been here with me. I could turn it on, and go back to my Order and my Sisters.
I could go back to my life.
And Isarae would go to her death.

If I left now, Isarae would come back to an empty… what? An empty home? This wasn’t our home, this was someone else’s home that we were squatting in.
And yet, the past few days it had begun to feel like a home.
At least, it felt a little like what I used to imagine a home might feel like.
Either way, it would be empty, and Isarae would realise I had left her, and then she would leave too, and go find the thing she had come to this world for.
I didn’t want Isarae to die, that much I knew. I had a variety of reasons for it, one of the strongest of which was simply that I owed her my life many times over. I had long since stopped trying to find ulterior motives in her actions, and come to accept that the Eldar woman simply wanted to keep me alive because… because she liked me.

Because we were… allies?
We were more than just allies, far more, or at the very least she meant more than that to me, and I wanted to believe I was more than that to her.
The words Isarae spoke as we returned from the chapel came back to me as I listened to the comlink autocycle again.
For you, Alessandra, I would do anything.
“Anything…” I muttered softly.
I reached inside the suit, found the vox unit, detached the power feed, and the autocycling message went silent.

When Isarae eventually returned some four and a half hours later, I was back to cleaning my bolter. It was already spotless and oiled, but there was no reason to take a risk.
“Welcome back,” I smiled up at her, and her lips twitched up faintly as she nodded and dropped her satchel to the ground.
She began unloading the supplies, mostly food and medical again.
“I found you something,” Isarae paused her unloading to shift a few things around in the bag.
She lifted up a small box and held it out to me. I raised my eyebrow at the smooth metal case, then took it, cracked it open, and my jaw dropped.

“I found it in a high spire,” Isarae explained as she went back to unloading. “It matched the mark on your cheek, so I thought you might like it.”
“That’s a fleur de lis,” I said softly, drawing out the jeweled hairpin from the velvet interior. “It’s the mark of my Order as a whole, the sign the Adeptus Sororitas.”
“A holy symbol?” She asked, her eyebrows raised as she looked up at me.
I nodded.
A symbol of my faith.
I wondered if this was fate or something else. If this was a silent reminder from His Divine Majesty of my duties, or an odd, tacit approval of my choice.

Was I here for a reason? Or was this time spent with Isarae the dereliction of my duty.
A hand pressed down over the pin, and I looked up to see Isarae kneeling beside me, her long, graceful fingers plucking the pin from my hand. Before I could ask what she was doing she wove her fingers into my hair, tucked a lock behind my ear, and pinned it into place with the fleur de lis.
“There,” Isarae smiled and brushed her knuckles lightly over my cheek, “that looks good on you.”

Her smile locked me in place for the moment it took her to admire me before she stood, pressed to my forehead for a heartaching instant, then turned to return to sorting her finds.
“Once you are well enough, we should start sparring,” Isarae said as she sifted through the supplies. “It will help strengthen your limbs after your recovery.”
“I suppose it will,” I muttered, my fingers coming up to rest on the hairpin for a moment, and I smiled as I looked up at her. “Will you teach me to move like you do?” 

“If it is possible, certainly,” Isarae smirked over her shoulder at me, and my heart skipped.
I wasn’t sure if I should regret deactivating the signum, all I knew was that I didn’t.
“Do not just yank on the trigger,” Isarae admonished as another wild spray of splinter fire struck the makeshift target. “Splinter weapons are not explosives.”
“I’m trying,” I grumbled as I held the weapon in a loose grip and took aim again. “I barely even touched the trigger!”
“That bodes poorly,” she replied dryly as she circled me with a critical look on her face. 

Hellebore was the name of her splinter pistol which, along with its sister pistol Rue, made up Isarae’s only ranged weaponry. It had taken me seven cycles to grow bored enough to beg her for lessons, and she had agreed happily. Rather than attempt it in the quarters we’d taken for ourselves, we moved one level up to a slightly more weather-worn set of rooms and set up a series of reconstituted falsewood slats as targets.
“Your weapons are crude things with too much wasted energy bleeding through them every time they are fired,” Isarae commented blithely. “Splinter weaponry has no kick, no wasted energy, and so requires only the deftest and lightest of touches.”

I froze as Isarae slipped up behind me and matched brought her arms around to line up with mine and, keeping or positions aligned, took Hellebore and aimed.
“Watch,” her voice was a warm ripple against my ear.
The target sprouted a half-dozen new slivers of damage, and as far as I could tell she hadn’t even twitched her finger.
“How did you-?”
“Don’t watch my hand, Alessa,” Isarae instructed, “look lower… follow the wrist down and watch the tendons…”
I forced myself to keep my eyes fixed firmly on her wrist, and an instant later I saw the barest twitch of muscle beneath her pale skin followed by another several slivers hammering into target.

“The slightest pressure will engage the ammunition feed,” Isarae spoke quietly as she took my hand and settled it back on the grip. “The magnetic feeds capture the slivers as they’re sheared off inside the loading chamber and propel them out at nearly hypersonic speeds”
Taking a deep, slow breath, I focused on what Isarae had done. I flexed the muscles, first in my bicep, then up to my forearm, carefully controlling then pressure, and feeling the building tension in my arm being pushed up along my muscles until-

I nearly jumped as a handful of slivers impacted the target in almost the exact manner they had when Isarae had been firing the pistol, and I felt a surge of triumph!
“Ha!” I turned, grinning, to Isarae. “Did you see?! I…!”
She was smiling at me.
Isarae was looking down at me with with a gleam in her eyes and a wide, brimming grin, and… pride.
“Good,” she nodded, patting my shoulder. “Now just learn to do that on command and we might make a markswoman out of you yet.”

Ten Cycles.
My world is a roil of flying fists and onrushing motion. Isarae is unbelievably fast, and I can barely keep myself from being struck by glancing blows as we spar across the center of our quarters.
Her style is like nothing Imperial.
She moved like liquid fire, consuming the space in front of her and spreading to everything adjacent. In one moment she was several steps away from me, and the next she was inside my guard, knocking my elbows aside, breaking my stance, cutting my roots, and then I’m on the floor.

“Faster, Cre’yth,” Isarae shot me a smirk as she held out a hand. “We will make you faster yet.”
I staggered as I got to my feet, and Isarae frowned.
“You’re only barely recovered,” she admonished gently, getting her arms around me and pulling me towards a seat.
“I’m fine,” I waved my hand dismissively. “I’ve just been idle for too long, I’m winded, which is galling but not the end of the galaxy.”
“Move at a steady pace, Alessa,” Isarae brushed my sweat-matted hair from my face, and smiled again. “We’ll have you better than before quite soon, I think.”

Her touch was more comforting than her words, although I wasn’t certain how to admit that, or if I even should.
I was certain she knew, of course. How could she not, given how we spend our nights? I can hardly sleep without having her nearby anymore, and the feeling of those long, graceful arms holding on to me have quickly become a necessity.
Without them, the nightmares would always return.
The blood and death… the empty, dead gazes of my sisters… the stench of scorching flesh and a city aflame.

All of that is chased away by the cold-smoke scent of Isarae.
Her arm continued to lend me support as she walked me into the washroom and began running the bath. We’d mastered the trick of turning off the scented oils a few cycles ago, so it was far more tolerable now.
“Your arm is nearly healed,” Isarae remarked as she helped lower me to the edge of the bath.
My limbs were trembling with exertion, the muscles still slightly atrophic from trauma, disuse, and the strain of recovery.

“I thank the God-Emperor for that,” I replied, breathing heavily as the heated bath finished filling. “I’d rather not be forced to use an augmetic so early in my career.”
“Mm,” Isarae chuckled as she sat on the stone floor behind me and began lathering my hair. “We’re he still alive I’d suggest you see my Haemonuculus… I’m sure there are a few spare arms lying around his laboratory that you could use.”
“I’m not certain if you’re joking,” I gave her a level look, and the enigmatic smile she replied with didn’t clear matters up.

“The muscle grafts wouldn’t even be noticeable,” she continued casually as she began massaging the into my hair and scalp. “And I highly recommend the stimgland… sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“I mind it less lately,” I said softly, then bit my lip as I remembered how good Isarae’s hearing was.
Her deft hands paused in their motions for a moment before continuing, but she didn’t reply.
“Sorry,” I said, after a moment.
“Don’t be,” she answered before withdrawing her hands, tapping my shoulder to let me know she was done, and then rinsing them off.

I ducked my head beneath the surface, relishing the heat as I let the churning water sluice away the sweat from my hair before rising.
Isarae has slipped into the water herself finally, although I doubt she had actually broken a sweat, and I turned so she could finish rinsing my hair for me.
To be honest, I didn’t really even need Isarae’s help for this anymore, my arms were tired, not useless. Still, over the past several cycles we had become more and more comfortable with one another, and she had started washing my hair for me while my arm was recovering.

For one reason or other, I’d never asked her to stop, and Isarae had never seemed to want to. Whatever her own reasons, the Eldar woman seemed to enjoy looking after me like this, and I had to admit I enjoyed her doting on me.
I think the reason I liked it was because, with Isarae, it never felt patronising. She kicked my arse up and down the quarters while sparring, never went easy on me, and never let up until we were finished. Then she would take extra care to ensure I was well and safe, and she would look after me.

It was nice.
Isarae’s arm slipped around my waist beneath the water, and I let out a small hum of approval as she drew me closer. I let her, as I always did… her touch was never unwelcome, and I turned my head to nestle against the crook of her neck.
“You are an odd one, Alessa,” Isarae notes with a small laugh.
Alessa.
I wasn’t sure when she’d started calling me that, I hadn’t thought of it honestly, just as I couldn’t pin down when I’d started getting familiar enough with her to call her ‘Rae. Neither of us had ever commented on it, nor complained, we had simply fallen into it like a comfortable routine.

“Says the Dark Eldar who just finished washing my hair for me,” I prodded back, and Isarae smirked.
The heat was comfortable, and Isarae was more so, and I drew myself closer until I was pressed fully against her, my face practically buried against her neck.
That was when the urge struck me.
It was so sudden and so total that I had even considered it before I’d indulged it.
I kissed Isarae’s neck.
For some reason I expected her to admonish me, or reprimand me, but she didn’t. She just stiffened for a moment at the touch, then relaxed.

Saints knew I shouldn’t do it again. I really, really ought not to… this was a Dark Eldar, whatever our familiarity, whatever our strange relationship this was certainly taking it too far.
Memories of the kiss in the chapel still haunted me, though. The feeling of Isarae’s mouth on me was…
Shuddering silently, I leaned in and kissed her neck again.
And again.
And again.
Each time rising higher, with my hand cradling her neck where I could feel her pulse quickening.

I stopped just beneath her long, tapered ear. A physical reminder that I was indulging this urge with a being who was very clearly inhuman.
Heresy.
The thought splintered through my mind and I drew back, drawing in a ragged breath before leaning forward and resting my forehead against Isarae’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, my voice raw. “I… I’m not sure what came over me.”
Isarae just shook her head, and I noted the faintest redness of her cheeks as she drew her arms around me and pulled me tight against her.

She didn’t speak, she didn’t even move. She just held me there with an almost desperate strength, her long fingers trailing woven into my hair as she buried her face against the crown of my head.
Through it all I could hear her heartbeat, faint and deafening at the same time.
The notion that one day it might go silent sent a shockwave of sorrow through me, and suddenly my arms were around Isarae as well, hugging her as tightly as I could.
Isarae… my Isarae.
God-Emperor forgive me.

“Ao’lanya!” 
I spun through the myriad motions of the first form, stepping through the complex footwork patterns as I cut and slashed with the razorflail in its blade-form.
“Beith’ha!”
My thumb lightly against the mesh of the hand as I completed the first form and moved into the second, lashing my arm out in a circular, weaving arc. The segmented blade separated with a quiet snap and spiraled around me.
“Mar’Saim!”
I turned the force of my motion into a leap, the razorflail hissed viperously around me and for a moment I was surrounded by slicing metal.

Then I leaned into the motion, and at the same moment retracted the blades with another flick of my thumb, just hard enough to pull the blades back swiftly, but not so hard as to close them around me like a razor-edged vice as I had seen Isarae do so many times. 
My feet struck the ground as I bled my momentum out with a powerful slash of the blade. The moment it reached the zenith of its arc I snapped the tendril out again, releasing the blades once more in a flurry of arching, biting strokes that ripped through the wall before me.

“Enough!” Isarae called, and I snapped back into the first form, opening stance, and retracted the segments to their blade form.
“I did it!” I breathed, my lungs tight with exertion as I took a seat where I landed and took gulps of air.
The human body was not meant to move like that but, as I had told Isarae, we are an adaptable species above all. Still, moving seamlessly through three full Lacerai forms had taxed me, and the knowledge that Isarae could perform all seventeen without missing a single step was mind-boggling.

“You need not even move that fast unless you are fighting another of my kind, I think,” Isarae noted as she took a seat beside me. I’m not sure why but I felt like she seemed paler than usual. “To your species, you would seem like a blur of bladed death.”
“And yet I’m still nowhere near you,” I pointed out.
There was an odd look of sadness that passed across her face briefly before she smiled and shook her head.
“You are human, Alessa,” she replied with a small chuckle. “Your biology is not entirely supportive of these forms and movements.”

“I don’t think we seem that different,” I shot back, looking her up and down and poorly masking it my enjoyment of it. “You’re only a bit taller and narrower than I am.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Isarae held out her bare arms and turned them, flexing as she did. “The muscles and tendons are seated differently on an Aeldari frame.”
As she turned her body, I began to see what she meant, and I wondered if that was a part of the subtle wrongness that humans felt upon seeing an Eldar. They were so very alike to us in shape, but we’re subtly different enough that it left us with an impression of physiognomic discomfort.

“The bones are set differently too,” she continued. “And our reactions times are drastically different.”
“I suppose I see what you mean,” I reached out and ran my hand over the form muscle of where a bicep would be on a human.
Then I trailed further down until our hands met, and our fingers linked.
We both stared at our joined hands for a long while before Isarae finally shook her head and chuckled wanly.
“How much longer can we do this, Cre’yth?”
I frowned.

“Do what?”
“This!” Isarae gestured around us. “You must eventually return to your Order, yes?”
That drew my frown to a deeper scowl. “Y-Yes, but until I know where they are it’s a pointless proposition!”
A lie.
I knew where they were.
“We could locate them,” Isarae offered, “you have a war to prosecute, do you not? And you have recovered more than enough to fight it!”
“Well, yes but-!”
“Do you intend to forsake your Order, then?”
I froze.
Isarae’s words sliced through the thin skin of my arguments and justifications to the one question I had been steadfastly avoiding.

How long could I reason my delay? How long until my conscience could no longer bear the weight of standing aside while they fought and died to protect the sacred shrine at the heart of the Priory of Gardens?
“Thirty cycles, Alessa,” Isarae said stonily. “It’s been thirty cycles since we holed up here, and I have not only brought you back to health but made you stronger.”
“I know!” I snapped. “You think I’m not aware of that?! You think I don’t care that my Sisters are dying while I sit safely in this hovel?!”

“Then why do you delay?!”
“Because knowing you’ll die is just as bad!” I snarled the words out, and Isarae jerked back. “The moment I leave you’ll go out there and you’ll-”
The rest of the thought died on my tongue. I couldn’t say it… the notion of it was too painful, so I just gripped Isarae’s hand all the harder.
“I will die all the same, Alessa,” Isarae stood, drawing her hand back from me and taking her razorflail back from me and securing it to her waist. “Wait for me… I will find your Sisters.”

“Why?” I hated how small my voice came out. “Why now?”
Isarae sighed softly.
“There is a storm front encroaching, and a large one,” she replied. “If we do not move now, it may be better than a week before we can try again, maybe longer.”
“Can’t we wait for the week?” My words came out petulant, and I grimaced. “Never mind… do what you will, Isarae.”
I felt more than saw her flinch at my use of her full name, and at the hard bite in my voice.
“I only do what I must,” Isarae responded in a sorrowful tone. “I do this because you are precious to me, Alessa.”

Then she was gone.
Isarae vanished into the shadows, with not even her footsteps leaving echoes. I remained where I was for some time before finally forcing myself to stand and trudge back down to the quarters we shared.
The jetbike was gone and with it my hope that Isarae might have had second thoughts and waited for me.
The gleam of the chapel armour caught my eye, and I made my way over to it. It was clean and polished, just the way I left it, and I considered the import of Isarae’s question.

Was I willing to forsake my Order?
My Sisters?
For an Eldar?
I hated that I couldn’t answer that question immediately, even in my own mind. What I did know was that I owed Isarae the truth.
That I had known all along where my sisters were.
That I had chosen to remain with her over them for all this time.
Then I would beg her to come back with me, to be sanctioned… perhaps we could even be… 
I sighed.
No, that might be asking too much from the Imperium, but I would at least tell her what was in my heart. I owed her that truth as well, and I owed myself that too.