Hyr had told her to go on, so… well, there was nothing she could do but go on and hope they didn’t regret their decision. While Emilia might not have smithed in over a decade—save once, when Helix had stolen her away to Norvel—it had always been something she loved. She loved both the act and the knowledge that went along with it—the small things that could make all the difference in how a willbrand worked, how durable or powerful it was, and Hyr, unknowingly, had asked a rather big question of her!
“So, most people know that willbranding uses the ore and the world’s aether to create the willbrand, but the smith can throw a bit of their own aether in as well, if they want. It’s not a requirement.”
The syn blinked down at her for a long moment before asking why the smith would add their own. “I was under the assumption that adding someone’s aether to a willbrand locks it to them even more securely than a resonance code?”
Traditionally, willbrands were bonded to their owner through a bit of their aether being added into them once it was all but fully formed. While visiting the smith’s workshop to do that would be easy these days, what with the advent of sparking, it hadn’t always been so convenient, especially since most smiths were kept far from the front. So, at some point—no one was really sure when, but likely several millennia ago—resonance codes were brought in. They were faster, cheaper and easier to utilize—updating resonance codes could be done by a smith or in a clinic these days, as most medics were trained in updating them for both convenience and in case another conflict broke out—but had to be updated every year or so.
Direct aether bonds, on the other hand, never needed to be updated—not unless the owner had suffered severe damage to their aetherstores or core, anyways, in which case, they were lucky to even be alive. Emilia’s willbrand, as well as the ones she’d made for Hyr—getting their aether for the willbrand that would be their birthday present had been an experience—were aether bonded. There was no point in them not being bonded, since they’d both been inside the workshop when they’d been created, decades apart.
“Sure, after it’s fully cooked. Before that, though…” Emilia trailed off, trying to think of how to explain it. “It can be both a safety precaution and a little, like… hug? From the smith? Or a threat, I guess. Any willbrand that has my aether in it, I could technically destroy with little effort because I’m already inside it? Smiths adding their aether in isn’t really something that’s done much anymore. Willbrandsmithing takes a lot out of the person to begin with, even more when you’re leaking your aether into it, although there are a few ways to pull aether into yourself faster, to speed up recovery.”
Emilia shuddered, thinking of the times she’d forcibly pulled aether into herself. The aether that came straight from the aethernet… it wasn’t like it felt
bad,
exactly. More… it was so pure, so all encompassing, that it burned and overwhelmed and left anyone who dared bring it in more than a little loopy. While Master Shaw had taught her how to do it, even he had admitted he never did so himself, due to the side effects. It was something both of them assumed was done during war, when there was both a dire need for willbrands and a risk that the soldiers given them might rebel—that the smith might need to destroy their willbrands.
Still, even during the war, Emilia didn’t know of a single willbrandsmith who had resorted to such methods—not that the government had ever asked them to put their own aether into anything they created. The lead up to the war had been slow, in many ways. People from The Penns, who often already owned willbrands, had stepped up to fill the gaps in the standing military while more willbrands were created for other soldiers, allowing smiths to work at a more reasonable rate, teaching their craft as they went.
Not that
that
—Penns elites filling so many roles so early in the war—wasn’t without its own issues. There was still some resentment among other social groups due to the power they had amassed during that time, even a few extra months of service enough to allow them more positions of power within the military. Penns Sub-30s already had a substantial amount of power within the government and The Black Knot, and for them to also hold so much sway, even now, within the military was… troublesome, at times.
It definitely hadn’t helped that sub-30s in general had been prioritized for training and willbrands. Then, the Free Colonies had begun to join the war effort, their elites and sub-30s prioritized over Baalphorian ex-30s while their country was the hardest hit…
Emilia couldn’t say it was wrong, exactly, to prioritize sub-30s, who realistically were always more powerful than ex-50s—there was a little leeway in those 20 levels, but the jump in skill that often happened at 29D often left even 30D’s struggling to keep up—but she could understand the resentment. So many willing bodies had been left to struggle, to watch their loved ones die and die themselves, waiting for their chance to be trained for service, to get a weapon in their hands.
That said, The Eerie had done a brilliant job working as a generally willbrandless militia… slash terrorist group. They were definitely more terrorist group these days, but during the war? During the war, The Eerie had said
to fuck with waiting around
and trained themselves, leaping into battle with only skills and core-abilities to keep them safe. Baalphorians could complain about having no willbrands or training, about how it had left them worse off, but there had always been the option to fight without those things—and indeed, their unit had even recruited a handful of civilians after hearing about their skill fighting without military support.
“Ah… sorry. That’s off-topic,” Emilia laughed, having begun to rant about over reliance on willbrands during the war to Hyr. They didn’t seem annoyed with her, at any rate. Rather, she had the feeling they’d be perfectly happy to listen to her ramble forever, their energy a soft rumble of contentment within her. “We were talking about adding aether to willbrands during production. So, uhm… the other important fact is it doesn’t have to be the willbrandsmith’s aether. It was once common to add in a military or governmental leader’s as well, especially after an incident in Norvel where a dozen smiths were killed, so they couldn’t destroy a rebel faction’s willbrands.”
“I imagine that would be the easiest way to free the willbrands from potential destruction, should they have another’s aether within them,” Hyr agreed, before asking about what she’d meant by
hug.
“Oh! That’s the funner aspect! If you’re close with someone, you can put your aether into the willbrand. To a large extent, they won’t really be able to tell, not unless they’re really,
really,
looking, but I dunno. There’s something nice about carrying a friend around with you?” Holding up her own willbrand, currently in its bracelet form, in case she needed it quickly, Emilia explained that it had been created by herself and the person who taught her. While it had been upgraded and altered since then, it still had Master Shaw’s aether inside it.
“These stars,” she added, pointing out each one in turn, “hold little bits of a few of my friends.” Laughing, she told Hyr that getting even that little bit out of most of them had been a nuisance—while Baalphorians could expel aether as skills, getting them to expel it without a Censor was difficult, another reason why resonance codes were favoured over aether-bonding. “Ironically, for as much as getting Free Coloniers to use their aetherstores is often a pain—as you know!—they can expel direct aether much more easily. Just like you did earlier, for yours.”
Idly, Emilia fiddled with the stars, trying to figure out how to explain the feel of her friends and mentor inside her willbrand. They were there, quietly supportive, giving her and her willbrand strength. As much as she was inside Hyr’s willbrand as well—something she may have also neglected to tell them—she doubted the syn was familiar enough with it yet to be able to feel her within it.
“The big part of the
why add another person’s aether into the willbrand
is that it offers some extra protection,” she finally said, smiling up at Hyr and finding their gaze lingering on their own willbrand, the one she’d made for them only hours earlier. Perhaps they were wondering if she was inside it, snuggled up alongside the drops of aether she’d squeezed out of them? Currently, it was in the form of a marbled purple and gold wrist cuff, which, thanks to some recent innovations at the hands of Simeon and Master Shaw, was more malleable than most willbrands. Not quite fabric, not quite metal. “If someone is skilled enough to fully cancel out another person’s aether”—she didn’t say as much, but Emilia felt Conrad probably fell into that rare category of humans—“then there’s a little bit of someone else around, more solid and permanent than the aether inside a person.”
Shrugging and hoping she’d explained is well enough for the syn—hoping that if she hadn’t, Hyr would ask more questions—she wrapped her hand around their willbrand. It vibrated gently for her, a response to the bits of herself she had left inside it earlier, an answer to their unspoken question of whether she’d added herself into it for them. Part of her had worried she was overstepping, which was why she hadn’t mentioned it, too embarrassed that she’d given in and wrapped herself around Hyr in a way they couldn’t undo—not unless they threw out the willbrand, and only an idiot would do that, considering how high quality it was.
Hyr’s energy didn’t leave her in reprimand, though, nor did they step away, scoff, berate her or do any of the other things they could have done. Rather, their energy tugged, urging her own energy to follow theirs. It wasn’t much, just a dip into the syn’s meridians. It wasn’t the free fall it had been before, when she’d tried to sneak a look inside them at Sil’s, but it still felt like so much.
Gratitude. Contentment. Safety. Appreciation. Affection.
She could feel so much of Hyr’s feelings, despite the bare touch into them. Part of her wanted to believe that, regardless of how deep her energy was, the feelings she felt would be the same. She knew that wasn’t the case; if Hyr ever let her fall deeper within them, everything would feel like so much more.
“Isn’t it overwhelming?” she asked as Hyr let her go—let her energy slither back inside her. “To see that much?” Presumably, the syn saw just as much within her, every moment they were connected. Did Conrad as well? Or was it just because it was Hyr guiding her energy where it needed so she could feel their emotions?
“Sometimes. synat are raised to understand and work with what we see. We are given skills to cope and only taught certain techniques when we are ready. Some of us are never ready.”
Emilia bonked her head back against the wall to smile up at Hyr. They watched her back, soft, but not quite smiling and still so close.
“Stay here,” they told her. “You will be safe to continue messaging your friends.”
Her mouth opened to respond, but the syn’s finger was there again, silencing her. She wanted to bite that finger, but that might have just been an excuse to get the finger into her mouth. Could Hyr read her emotions and thoughts well enough to know she wanted that? Eyes flicking between theirs, Emilia tried to find evidence that they knew, but either they didn’t or they were hiding it really well… or they didn’t understand the implications. It could have been that innocence thing.
“It is important that you message them, just as it is important you do not run into either of those people just yet.”
“Either of those people?”
Humming, Hyr told her they weren’t exactly sure who the pair were, just that all of their futures were tied together. “One, I sent Conrad to.” Given the way Hyr’s lips quirked, a slight crack in their expression, Emilia got the sense they hadn’t told Conrad nearly enough about what sort of
fun
he and this mystery person would be having together. “The other, I will go to myself. Stay here.”
Hyr’s tone brokered no room for objection, something telling Emilia even if she tried to go along, the syn would find a way to stop her. Plus, she did actually want to get back to messaging people—Viola was throwing a fit because she’d vanished mid-conversation while they were running, hiding and chatting, and she was apparently set to leave for a raid of her own soon.
As they had both taken to doing, Hyr leaned down further, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, before turning and leaving, calmly following the path Emilia could see laid out in blurry detail over her vision. Watching them as closely as she was, she didn’t miss the way their hand rose, gently fingering the clip she had fixed for them—that she had needlessly added a bit of herself to.
Arc 7 | Chapter 256: They’d Let Me Ramble Forever, Wouldn’t They?
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