The eighth seat was taken once more.
He dared not speak his thoughts out loud as he stood alongside the other harbingers, silence paving the entire vicinity. It has been months since the former eighth harbinger’s death, months of empty space, everyone merely assumed it’d remain as such for many more to come. Childe’s gaze flickered to the new figure, cloaked in shadows, seated confidently where a ghost once lingered
Something felt strangely unsettling, perhaps a part of him felt a little bit unnerved. But it has always been like this, it wasn’t as if he was completely soothed being in the same room as these people, they were all peculiar. But the new person was different—and he found his own instincts flaring up, fight or flight, this individual—whether a human or not, was not just a mere recruit.
The Tsaritsa wouldn’t appoint someone to the ranks of the Harbingers without purpose, without power. She had spoken; her will was absolute.
He hears Pierro speak up, breaking the unwavering silence between all of them, his voice deep and resonant, commanding everyone’s attention. “Welcome. Our new Eighth Harbinger, chosen by Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, herself.”
You must be ridiculously strong. — Was Childe’s first initial impression. A part of him itched on asking you for a spar.
When the meeting adjourned, he set out of the area, there was no need to remain in a room of people who don’t share the same sentiment as him. His footsteps silent on the freshly blanketed ground of snow, making his way through the snow.
But he stops. And time seems to stop as well. The two of you make eye contact briefly until he forces himself to avert his gaze away, that’s strange, it’s as if he almost found himself captivated. You stood approximately four feet away from him, not even clad in a coat or any thick clothing that could shelter your very being from the harsh weather.
“I believe this is our second time meeting.” He musters up the courage to say, gaze a bit wary. Were you not cold at all?
What are you?