#and i'll be real withya the 'close encounters' bit about sirens??? toooooootally nOT foreshadowing to some of the hhh relationships he's had

[thefatalmarksman]

Darkness of the Dawn

[[ aka, borderlands au luxu/xigbar’s tragic origin story, aka luxu/xigbar is never allowed to have a backstory without a shitton of baggage that goes with it and also i basically replaced the watcher’s role with luxu because they didn’t do more with them and because i can :))) ]]

~~~

“Luxu---I am going to tell you a secret I have never told anyone else.”

His Master’s voice abruptly cut through the white noise, breaking the reverie that had settled over the picturesque scene. For all Luxu could tell of the unaccounted-for passage of time, the two of them could have been standing there for a few minutes---to even a few hours. And for Luxu, he would have gladly stood there for days upon days for his Master to address him---just waiting for his Master’s initiation of the dialogue, admiring the placid blue lake-view sprawled out before them, dappled in a radiant ocher sunset, in never-ending contented patience.

“And you must never tell anyone else---understand?”

The graveness of his Master’s tone was most perturbing, for the wise Eridian Sage was known for his predominantly teasing, playful attitude, almost edging on manic behavior on occasion. So when he slipped into these serious phases---showed that side of him that truly marked his position as a wise scholar, a philosophical authority, and nearly-omniscient oracle that had written out the mysterious Book of Prophecies---that was the cue to hush, and listen.

And as such, upon this turn of attitude, Luxu’s response wavered slightly in tone, “Y---Yes,” then, more convincing once he’d gotten proper control of his throat, “of course, Master. You can trust me entirely.”

Thus, his Master began his slow pacing, all along the steep cliff side overlooking the expanse of crystalline water, and Luxu---ever-compliant---followed along as he spoke:

“It is time you knew the truth. Things are going to be... changing, Luxu. Very soon. Sooner than is probably pleasant,” and his meandering was slow, hands clasped behind his back, a movement back-and-forth so close the edge it made Luxu anxious. “And as my most trusted Apprentice, you will be a key figure in ensuring that everything---everything, everything---goes exactly as it must.”

Luxu had already been unnerved by his Master’s pacing, but at this revelation, could feel his gut clench anew, like he had swallowed a large stone---nervousness overtaking him in a fresh wave. Such an intense proclamation of responsibility---and Luxu, barely out of his youngling phase, still so uncertain of the universe around him, having primarily lived vicariously through texts his Master provided him and meager interactions with what little of the population that chose to speak to him, instead of absorbing any extensive real-world experience.

When his Master paused, Luxu took this as his turn to interject, drawing closer, until he was within arms’ distance---and yet, at this moment, feeling so much further away, “So... what is going to happen, and---what must I do?”

His Master suddenly stopped his movements, facing towards the lake, disappearing far into the horizon, towards the distant mist that glowed burning orange in otherworldly vibrancy---as though the water had been set aflame as the sun appeared to sink deeper into it. Luxu only wished that he could see his Master’s expression---beyond the hood that covered his head, beyond the mask that covered his face. Never before had he seen what lay underneath, and now, more than ever, he wished for just a glimpse---perhaps just a single glance at his visage would dispel the yearning for respite from this terrible conversation.

“...Luxu,” the name from his Master weighted with foreboding, “...soon enough, this place, this planet---this, what we have made our first home, in the hopes of expanding our progeny---will one day have a second name. Future generations of future species will concoct a translation, one name that they will misinterpret as another in their language, its true meaning lost to them:

“Nekrotafeyo.”

As the word came out of his Master’s mouth, Luxu felt an increasing trepidation, and---despite his hesitation---asked, “And it... means?”

“...Graveyard.”

Luxu grew silent, then his Master clinched in place his awful point, “Yes---all of this---everything we know, that lay out before us, everything that we’ve built---will come to its end, left as nothing but a wasteland filled with crumbling ruins.”

Turning his back away from the scenery upon which he had been staring so fondly---the resplendent, enthralling brilliant dusk, smoldering into a purplish hue, as though denying the comfort of the sight in light of this news, in order to linger on the impending tragedy---Luxu raised his gaze upwards, towards the towers that reached into the sky, extending proud and tall like the arms of his Master’s followers at a sermon in the throes of holy reverence. To think---soon, as his Master had described so vaguely---these monuments---testaments to their proud civilization, their masterful craft in establishing their dominance over the universe, the loudest statement possible of ‘we exist!’---would soon be nothing more than... tombstones.

“However... this is where you come in, Luxu.”

He had been silent in his approach, and Luxu felt the long-fingered hand of his Master land on his shoulder---a gesture meant to be of comfort, and yet the Apprentice could only feel it minimally, its warmth at the very edge of his mental awareness.

“Luxu---you will survive. You will live on.”

At these words, Luxu knew he should feel some semblance of relief---that he would avoid such a catastrophic fate that the remainder of the Eridians were doomed to suffer---and yet, he was just cognizant enough, just keen enough, to know that there was a price to this fact. That, as he felt his slight shoulders shrug in discomfort---his Master’s touch suddenly becoming far more intrusive as all of this sunk in---there was more harrowing information to come.

“...Just me? Even you... even you will be gone?”

A soft response, the barest flicker of sympathy, “Every single Eridian, yes---even me.”

Another ensuing silence, and Luxu could feel the weight of everything---everything, everything---toppling down on him. A black hole inside, sucking out every light of hopefulness he had ever felt. Every single moment, culminating to this very one---so very bleak, so very wretched.

“But,” his Master went on, and finally the unintentionally cruel presence of his hand was lifted, “the good news is that, one day, you will see my return. I will come for you---at least, after some time has passed.”

With a palpable disquiet, “...How long?”

There came a breath from behind the mask, and Luxu watched the movement of his Master’s form---wanted to picture behind the porcelain veil some sort of commiseration, some condolence as the time mounted between the question and the answer.

Pleading for the truth now, “How long?”

“Just---” and, suddenly, his Master’s voice upturned in mood, “well, just think of this as a vacation! An extended one, filled with lots of adventure! Lots of sight-seeing!”

Usually, such an abrupt, jovial switch in his Master’s tone was a signal for relief---that all worries should melt and be replaced with utmost optimism---but in this case, it only worsened the sinking feeling. The dread. The fear. The heartache, even. Perhaps it was selfish, but the main source of his pain now---even more acute than the concept of the death of the entire planet---was that he would be separated from his Master. He had never known a life without him---and now, in a matter of several minutes of conversation, all of his preconceived notions of safety and protection had been entirely stripped away from him.

“...So, what do I do now?”

A brief, yet brutal pause, then, “You will have to be...” another pause, to search for the right term, “...rebuilt, in order to endure what is to come. You will need the physical means to carry on through the ensuing generations, because as it is, your body is too frail to stand the test of time that is before you,” and again, that hand on his shoulder, increasing that throbbing emptiness in Luxu’s chest.

“I promise you, the pain will not last long.”

~~~

His Master had been wrong about the pain.

Very wrong.

~~~

“You know of the Sirens, correct?”

The voice of his Master was distant now---an echo, at this juncture. Mental movement between points in time often felt like a dream---an absence of thought, and suddenly, he was somewhere else. Right now, it appeared he was in some sort of stony, high-ceilinged chamber, illuminated by a series of red lights, and appeared to still be under some sort of construction. He could not conceive its purpose---nor was the notion at the forefront of his mind. 

“I know thus far you have not gotten the chance to meet any of them---the one living here included---but believe me, you are going to meet many more of them on your journey. Though we have surveyed that only a set amount can exist at a single time---” then, a tilt of his Master’s head, “---there... will be exceptions to this. As you know, there always are to the norm,” then a broad gesture towards Luxu. “Somewhat like you!”

Luxu did not respond to the joke at his expense, whether or not it was meant to console him. Instead, his ruminations swam through him like agitated anglers---how long had he been like this---hurting like this? The rending agony still remained from the procedure---still fresh, still sharp---within his newly-constructed joints, down into his heftily-reinforced bones, and through his now-heightened, sensitive nerve-endings.

And how long must he suffer the harsh stares when traversing within public spaces? Younglings told to avert their eyes, gazes filled with ever-tensing apprehension as he passed them by---and, at times, bordering on complete disdain at his... unseemly appearance. A disgraceful mishmashed monstrosity of two different entities---Guardian and Eridian---deigned to be neither by their standards. 

Even before this, as an Apprentice to his Master, he had not properly belonged---and now, the stigma had only increased, this time in contempt.

He was a freak.

And when Luxu said nothing, his Master continued, “Well, any-way. Your main job is going to be keeping an eye---” this word especially emphasized, Luxu noted, “---on the various goings-on of the universe---and we will get to that bit soon enough, most assuredly---but another thing you are going to have to do is watch these particular individuals. And even when you think you should interfere, do not. If you do, it could create paradoxes of untold consequences.

“The only time you may ever act is when you know you can act---and you shall know what that means soon enough. But otherwise, everything must unfold as foretold---that is, first and foremost, your Role.”

Still, Luxu’s mouth did not move---made not a single sound---and still his Master went on, “Thankfully, the way your body has been---altered, it will not only extend your lifespan significantly, but it will be what protects you from any supernatural powers the Sirens have. And believe me, you are going to be quite thankful for that. Because trust me, you are going to be in for some... close encounters.”

At long last, Luxu replied, “...Okay.”

“Just...” his Master’s slow approach, a hand on his shoulder---the renewed return of Luxu’s despair, “be ready for the next phase. You will be meeting your first Siren soon enough---and I must prepare you for it. After that... unfortunately, you will have to go alone from here on out.”

~~~

His Master had been correct.

He was prepared. And he was alone.

Above what would be known as the now-completed Pyre of Stars---at least, what his Master told him it would be known as some time in the future, yet again unspecified---he watched the Siren called “Nyriad” with the new Gazing Eye he had been given, replacing what had once been his own right eye. He clutched within the talons of one deformed hand the ultra-weapon that he referred to as “No Name,”---and at his side, hanging from his other claw, the Black Box, heavy with its unbreakable locks and containing a Secret to which only he and his Master were privy.

These were to be considered, he supposed rather bitterly, parting gifts from his Master---and the application of Eye the last testament to the fact that what pain he thought was the maximum of what he could endure... was not.

As he stood witness to the disappearance of what could have once been considered his entire species, his position at the pinnacle of the temple’s arch leading out towards a field of diminishing starlight---captivated by Fate until it appeared every single one of the Eridians had been rendered into nothing but their bloody essence to feed the Eldritch being that was then sealed away---she saw him. 

And yet, as he returned her stare---gazed into such stunningly blue eyes---he found himself... feeling nothing. Where once there was empathy, there was apathy---where once was a concern to be loved and to belong, there was complete and utter detachment. Cruelly forced upon him---perhaps, he had pondered, for the better.

Therefore, as she surveyed him surveying her, he did nothing.

For from now until the end of the unknown, he had accepted that this would be his all-consuming Role, at the behest of his absent Master---the Fate to which he would have to adhere himself:

Waiting.

Watching.

Dawn was approaching, and in the wake of the genocide, he turned his back on the first Siren he had ever met, and, dragging the Black Box behind him with No Name in tow, tread heavily on towards the rising sun---and to wherever else his feet were destined to take him.