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No. 9     There is jungle. There are caverns. There are jungle caverns. Singing things, soft and glowing with resonating crystals and heavy with verdant growth.

    And a monster, in the middle of it, a thing of ugliness and glowing eyes and abject discomfort, looking at all the flushed and blooming life like it knows just how out of place it really is. He, really is. Probably a guy, girls don't come in that shade of ugly, over-long hair or no.

    Through a crack in the rocks, down a slope slippery with a rug-thick layer of moss, hanging vines slapping him in the face as he picks himself up. And, a set of coordinates, thrown out there into space. Maybe it was time that Everlast met someone else. Being around your dad and a dead guy and only having them be the folks you ever get to talk to? That can't be healthy for a growing young mind.

    So, to set the stage. Crystals; glowing, big. Plants; Big. Occasionally glowing. Trees; big as well. Not often glowing. And one big softly drooping masterpiece of a willow, the leaves a somber sort of red, quite healthy despite the lack of all-soaking sunlight. And some, ugly, thing, crouched down near the trunk, looking sullen and self-conscious, glowing eyes sweeping the wall of green, one heavy metal hand occasionally brushing blunt metallic fingertips over the long drooping switches of branches heavy with leaves.
Sentinel Lunara
Its just like the forests of Ashenvalle! Except, with a strange alien twist to it.

Nevertheless, wherever there is nature in abundance there will be a home for one such as Lunara. There is no such thing as a foreign and strange land for a Dryad who can hear the very whispers of nature guiding her path. From the foliage she will appear casting her odd own shadow. At a distance it would seem there is a woman with long flowing sitting on thes addle of a horse. Upon closer inspection however, it will be clear that it is not two separate entities but one. As she introduced herself, Lunara has the upper body of a Night Elf and the lower half of a deer. For all her alluring figure though she clearly carries herself as warrior, being clad in armor from head to, well, hooves.

The Dryad notices the trees first, of course, and smiles up to them, likely already greeting her even in their own strange language. Lunara then turns her gaze towards the /creature/ and despite herself makes a face before realizing this must be Nine. Taking careful steps forward, her hooves being surprisingly silent, she forces a grin and inquires. ~Nine, I presume?~
No. 9     The grimace doesn't seem to be minded so much, and at the forced grin the big metal hand comes up. "I know whut I look like lil sister, ya dun need t'..." A pause, as he takes stock of exactly what she is. He's never seen anything like that before. But it's rude to stare, so after a moment he shakes his head with a little mental start, eyes flaring a faintly brighter color. "Right, sorry. And yes. Number Nine, GOLEM-Style ANMC King Unit No. 9, atcher service." His back is bowed, so the bow is easy, his long arms making for a more eloquent sort of gesture then you'd expect from an ugly sort of thing like him. "This is, Everlast. My ah, son. I was, bad, to his mother. And uh." A pause. He IS saying this to a Dryad, but admissions need to be made, and he looks more apologetic to the tree then, say, worried that he'll get his teeth kicked out by her perfect little hooves. "I guess I felt bad and uh. Adopted him. He was a sickly child, but look at him now..." And that big rough hand goes out to the bark, an odd sort of reverence in his touch, an even odder sort of misty love in those ugly photonegative eyes. And then a hand down to the grass and moss, the tombstone mostly obscured by the growth. "Mnhh, sorry Hay, I aint been down t' pick th' moss off recently. It grows so /fast/..."
Sentinel Lunara
Lunara is not the most tactful individual either, and though she does mind when people stare, she is too fixated on Nine for her to actually notice his blushing. ~Sorry, I just did not think you would be quite.. well, so ugly.~ Right, well, children of nature and all, Nine is probably a horrible monstrosity in more ways than one to her, being a golem for starters and unnatural. ~I am Lunara. Well met.~ At least she has some manners though.

The confession of him hurting the mother of the child, meaning he probably cut the tree that bore Everlast, does earn a wrinkle of Lunaras dainty nose, but it is fleeting. She forgives easily nowadays, particularly when the perpetrator shows regret. ~Life always finds a way.~ She says strangely and moves towards the tree looking it up and down.

Before communing with the plant though, the Dryad does notice the tombstone and her eyesbrows furrow, pointy elf ears flicking lightly. ~There is a grave here?~ She states. ~Who is buried here?~ The voice of the Dryad carrying some imperiousness to it.
No. 9     "Yeh it aint sumthin ya kin really prepare for." Sometimes even he catches himself out glancing in the mirror when he isn't in the best mood, his face twisted by rage or sullen defiance. It wouldn't be the first mirror he'd broken confronted with that face

    Despite her full appearances of the graces of nature, he is still a nervous parent when she draws closer to the red touched willow, heavy with its own leaves. A glance down at the gravestone and his hunched body seems to grow heavier, his face drawn with old pain. "...His uncle Haytham. Well..." Uncle isn't right. Then again son and father isn't right, given that Nine is a mutated half-metal monstrocity and Everlast is a, well, tree. "Haytham was a friend of mine. Well. I thought of him as a friend. He was... better than I was. More, than I was. But he was... kind, enough, t' not /need/ t' treat me like shit, though he well could've. I tried to be useful." A heavy swallow works that throat, his voice, oddly mucky, brassy and strange getting a little quieter, a little thicker. "I tried to do right by him. He was... kind, to me. But, uh." Swallow. "He had... family, problems. His life wus, pulled apart, by circumstances, and regret. An' it all just... went, wrong." A rough hand scrapes across leathery flesh on one side of his face, his breath heavy and slow. "...He was a good man. He deserved... better, than he got."
Sentinel Lunara
Lunara clenches his jaw at the spill from the Golem. So much history that she does not know and it all sounds remarkably painful. What story could this man have that he would have such admiration for someone who apparently could have treated him like trash? The Dryad dares not ask. She is only a recent arrival to the Multiverse and her time in the Nexus has taught her that situations like this need to be taken slowly. Bit by bit she will unravel the mystery that is Nine and Everlast and this man named Haytham. For now, she will prefer to focus on the tree. Though she does have one question. ~Was this Haytham the one that turned you into a cyborg?~ %
No. 9     His face does something funny and ugly and he twists away. "No, he was- he came later. Much later. Tied in with an enemy group of ours, one we'd been dealing with on and off. Assassins. Could take you down just like /that/." His fingers make a deep metallic TANGng sound at the snap, eyes bright for a moment, before they dim. "They... weren't such bad folk, in their own way. Hay was caught up in all that. Him, his son, their whole world. Just one big, stupid, pointless aimless mess. Just, pain and, stupidity, th' lot of it." Oh his face can get uglier. Cause it does. Right there. There- right there. The twist of the lips, that look of pain in those dim eyes- that aint a fun look. A quivery little grimace, and he huffs a thick, seething little breath, looking over at Everlast. "Haytham had no connection to the folks what turned me. I was approached... um." How to even tell that story, fairly. His face twitches. "I was approached. I accepted. I signed. I paid. I did this. Haytham... Haytham had no connection to them. He was good."
Sentinel Lunara
Lunara falls silent and listens to the explanation, arms folding under her armored chest whilst her hooves shift from side to side. She nods slowly at the explanation. A newcomer then, one who was apparently killed by the problems he brought from his homeworld. How often did that happen in the Nexus too. For every great ally that Lunara would gain, there would also be a villain to even the scales. ~I can understand that.~ She answered, being all too aware about worlds submerged in what appears to be meaningless, convoluted violence. Even one who is descendant from Gods like her cannot understand the whims of higher beings. If there were indeed any on the Nexus, or in world of Haytham. At the very least, Lunara does not seem scared now by Nines consistently uglier face, adjusted by now to his appearance.

~I see.~ She finally concludes about the tale of the golem. ~You will have to tell me all about it at some point.~ Notes the Dryad, sensing that there is probably more to this story.

~Or perhaps, he can.~ And finally, we come to the reason as to why Lunara is here in the first place. Even though she is aware that Nine is an overprotective father, as a Dryad she is more attuned with this tree than Nine ever could be. The Golem could spend the rest of eternity sitting next to his son, and he would still not know the secrets of nature as Lunara does.

~Hello there, fair Everlast. Speak to me.~

She waves a hand to the growing willow as if greeting the plant.

And the tree.. begins to glow.
No. 9     Nine's own eyes glow when he turns his face to the glowing form that is his adoptive son. Its true that Everlast, being a bit too close to Nine likely would have an easier time opening up to both a professional as well as a woman, something that one's adoptive father, well, one might have a bit of a hard time. While Nine had gone out of his way to ensure his son understood he'd never judge him or think critically of him, there's just some things that are easier to share with someone like a dryad. Which Nine was now starting to think of more as a plant councellor than anything mystical. Makes sense right? Right? Right. Right?

    Right.

    He sort of slunk back as his son started to glow, eyes wide but posture sinking low, crouching back from the beauty of nature once again.
Sentinel Lunara
Right.

Well, whatever makes Nine feel comfortable. Lunara /would/ take offense if Nine were to start addressing her as a plant counselor, but hey, as long as he does not say it to her face they should be fine! Besides, in all fairness, she has little need for titles as long as she can do her job. In this case seeing to the well-being of this adoptive son of the golem. Because lets be honest here, Lunara is highly skeptical of Nine taking care of sapling, let alone a full on tree.

This is when mysticism comes in handy though, and who better to tell of the truth that Everlast himself. Indeed, after the brief glow, the tree sways lightly as if coming to life and speaks in an echoing almost melodical voice. Decidedly unisex though, it is very hard to tell the gender of a tree after all, particularly when they themselves do not usually identify themselves as anything but neutral.

~Hello!~ Everlast speaks, and he sounds excited.
No. 9     To be fair Nine DOES make it a habit of being proportinately incompetent at any number of things. Usually when he's feeling that he's been too competent of late. Some things just need to be made up for. And it was... difficult at first. Little Everlast almost didn't make it at first. He'd had to go to... friends, who could help him. Who could help Everlast, who could make sure he lived.

    But of all the things Nine had gotten used to, of all the things he'd gotten into his head was an accepted part of life? Was that... he'd, never be able to, talk to his son, never be able to hear him, never be able to communicate with him. Oh he hugged him and he spent time with him and he'd spend hours making sure he was okay, that he knew he was loved, hours sitting at the base of his trunk just talking about... anything, he'd had to resign himself that his son would never be able to answer him back. He was a tree. It wasn't his fault. Nine didn't speak tree, and Everlast didn't have vocal cords. Not his fault, it was the way he'd been born.

    But this. This was...

    "E-Everlast?" The words were quavering things, tiny in that rough throat, the ugly hulk uncoiling from his crouch, eyes wide. "Everlast? Is that you?"
Sentinel Lunara
The sense of joy from both parties is not lost on Lunara. The happiness from the Golem is easily sensed but it takes a very special kind of bond to make a tree happy. Already can the Dryad tell that this is someone that the tree has known from a very long time, and that brings happiness to Lunaras heart.

~Hi!~ Responds Everlast sounding pleased and speaking directly to Nine before Lunara addresses him once more.

~Everlast. Has this man been kind to you?~

The willow tree sways lightly as if trying to dance.

~He planted me, watered me, and fed me. His breath is very nice.~ Little known fact, the reason why talking and singing to plants is seen as helpful for their growth is because they breath carbon dioxide. If Nine has been talking to this tree every day then he has helped it breath a lot.

~He also gave me the body of the Templar. It has preserved us both.~

Lunara raises a questioning eyebrow at the mention of the Templar, not know what that means, and turns to Nine with confusion in her face.
No. 9     There is joy there, enough to hurt, but there is a different sort of pain there too. An aching incredulity, a fragile sort of strange vindication. Like a schizophrenic suddenly finding someone else who can see, them, too. Maybe it makes them real, maybe it doesn't. But it makes something real, and that makes everything feel a little more real.

    And he might be being rude? He's probably being rude. He knows he's being rude, and that hurts, in a distant sort of way, but as his hand slides softly over the bark, his eyes are on the tree, and it's like nothing else in the world exists, not really.

    "I know it wasn't fair to you. I know it was too much for a young man to bear. A heavy responsibility. Almost, dismissive. But I love you. And he meant a lot to me. I wish you'd had more time to get to know him better. To have experienced who he was. Maybe, I wanted to give you both some more time together. I wanted you to protect him. I'm sorry. I know it's a lot to have asked you, and I ah... I know you, couldn't, answer. So I didn't really give you much of a choice."

    "But I love you son. And I'm proud of you. Don't you ever forget that." I... don't, think most of that will mean much a a tree. But then, a glance to her confusion, and he bows his head with a tip to the grave. "My son watches over Haytham. He has done a good duty by him, and is a mature and responsible young man. Tree. Willow tree. A gentle and treasured soul."
Sentinel Lunara
Lunara gets it. Even though she does not know all the details about the history of these tree. The golem, the tree, and the grave. She has ten thousand years of battle experience under her belt and has seen many a friend grieve for the loss of a loved one, commending them to nature so that the spirits may watch over them for their eternal slumber. The Dryad is not so tactless that she would interrupt this heartfelt meeting. She watches as the tortured soul of Nina finds some relief in knowing that he has done a good by his son and his dead boss. She keeps the channel open, letting Nine find all the consolation she needs from talking with his adopted son. That she could let him to the spirit of Haytham as well, alas she has no such power.

True, trees have very simple souls and the great majority would not even recognize the person that planted them. Everlast though, Lunara can tell there is something special about it, there is magic within it. Power that has yet to develop, though it does give it some manner of self-awareness, enough that being spurred by Lunaras will allows it to finally reveal his true feelings towards Nine.

~I love you too, father.~ He says with a happy voice. ~I will take good care of the Templar.~
No. 9     Nine knew Haytham had gone on to a better place. Better men and women then him had told him so, things that had powers to make it so, and he believed them. He knew Haytham would be okay in the grand scheme of things. Better by far than what would happen to him when he died. But that was a different story for a different day.

    Haytham had deserved a better time and a better life in this world by far then he'd gotten; for all that he'd schemed and worked and strived and struggled, it had all been for naught, had all ended with so many ashes in his hands, trailing between his fingers. They'd all worked so hard. But none as hard as Haytham. And the worst thing is Nine couldn't even hate the person who'd killed him. Oh he'd wanted to. But it wouldn't be fair to Haytham, and that's ultimately what was most important at that time, in that place. So he'd been left, shaking, impotent, wanting more than anything to turn the pain of the loss against the one who'd taken him. But it wasn't the kid. He was just a stupid puppet to fate. It was the kind of world where people like Haytham failed and flailed and died, faced that kind of pain and that kind of torment and lost at the end. The kind of world where he'd felt that cold shivery dread in his gut, looking up into Aya Brea's eyes and knowing that if he died, well, she'd sleep happier for it. A world where, you lost, and the world was thankful. Where someone like Haytham could be regarded as a bad person. Where...

    But it didn't matter, did it? At the end of the day. Haytham was dead. His son was here. And this nice lady was letting Nine talk to him. Like an imaginary friend that, for just a little while isn't imaginary, Nine found his arms around him, body hunched and shivering faintly, taking in that soft happy voice, the gentle resonant tones of it. He scrubs at his face, his voice ragged. "...T-take care of him. Pleasse. But take care of yourself now. Do you need anything? More acid to your soil, more alkali? More water, less water? I can try to get you some sort of resonating crystal matrix to redirect some sunlight down here, maybe some more nitrates, something like that? A little music? Something soothing at night? I... abandoned you down here. Do you get scared at night? Do you need help? Do you need anything? Just name it son and it's yours."
Sentinel Lunara
Bringing happiness is not Lunara is entirely used to. She is a harbinger of death to the enemies of the forest and the life she brings is only silently thanked by the spirits of the all the lands. That is all she has ever needed. No actual words spoken, or gratitude from strangers. This feeling was new, and not entirely unwelcome either.

Lunara found herself giving a gentle, satisfied smile as Nine hugged Everlast. She could sense that this fellow was not completely trustworthy, she has lived FAR TOO long to be swayed by appearances, and in fact Nines appearance isnt helping his case. But more than just that, given all he has said she knows that this man is no innocent. And despite all that, the love he has for this tree is genuine. He may be mad but he truly considers it his very own, and as a Dryad that is something Lunara respects wholeheartedly. She is glad that she could help make this meeting happen.

Everlast moves, slowly, but surely, and branches gently wrap around Nine to return the hug. There is magic within the tree and it lets it do things that no other tree could even while powered by a Dryad. ~He sleeps with me, father~ Whispers the tree about Haytham. ~You need not worry for him.~

And as for what can Nine for Everlast? ~Be sad no longer. When you are sad I am sad too.~
No. 9     A hand dragged over ugly, leathery features; a breath, heavy, ragged, drawn, as those branches slowly bend and enfold him. "Oh son I love you so much I never thought I'd actually be able to /talk/ to you I'm sorry if it ever seemed like I was losing my faith in in in any of it I love you I have always loved you even when I can't hear you anymore know that I love you and I /will/ be here for you and I /will/ take care of you, no matter what. I... I won't worry about him. And I won't worry about you. You've grown up. You're living your life here, as a tree should. You'll live, oh, I don't know, could be forever, and you'll take care of Haytham, and he'll take care of you, and it'll be okay. It'll all be okay." Another ragged breath, and he presses rough, scarred lips to the bark for a moment, eyes closed. He draws back, eyes on Lunara, the mechanical suck and wheeze of his breath strange, alien and metallic.

    "You've done me a favor nobody else could've done, given me a gift nobody else could've given. I don't even know where to begin."
Sentinel Lunara % ~I know, father. I know~

Everlasts voice is serene, calm as only a tree could be. Mystically peaceful as if coming from a dream though in his case the tree may be purposely be making a soothing voice to calm Nine. If Lunara can know one thing for sure about this whole encounter is that Everlast really does not like to see Nine being sad! Nature has a way of caring for its own, and this magical tree has grown very fond of Nine. Perhaps when its magical properties fully develop he will be a boon to the golem.

The Dryad senses that Everlast wishes to rest and she waves her hand towards it, releasing her power. Slowly, the willow straightness back and seems to sigh giving a silent thanks to Lunara as well for the opportunity. A pleasing sound coming as his trunk is kissed before it grows silent once more.

A chuckle from Lunara comes. She is used to speaking to the trees constantly and this encounter, while truly memorable for Nine, is just another day at the office for her. ~No thanks needed. In truth I came here only to ensure that the tree was safe with you.~ She admits, making abundantly clear that nothing Nine said in broadband assured Lunara he was capable of taking care of a tree. The Dryad is not completely heartless though and she places a comforting hand on Nines shoulder. ~But I am glad I could give you this, nonetheless. You love Everlast dearly, that much I can see.~

~Fear not, Nine. You may one day be able to communicate with your son without my help. There is much untapped power within him and may yet become a treant in oh, a couple hundred years?~
No. 9     Nine's eyes are raw, a strange sort of salmon-kissed champagne color, and his voice is a croak. "If I was hurting Everlast I'd want nothing more. Him or Haytham. Either of them." A hand on the bark, lingering, touching, his breath thick. "Prolly most people think it's a joke. Sum sort of elaborate joke. It's not." Breath. "Thank you for looking out for him. And for having been prepared to attack me if I'd been bad for him." A look over, the fingers soft on the bark.

    "I love him. But that doesn't naturally translate into bein able to care for a child. I've read books n' consulted specialists but not a lot of people know about his exact kind of willow-" by that it's all of maybe half a person? Shreds and legends, rumors, "...and I love him. But that doesn't mean I would've been good for him." He looks back to her, listening and nodding. There, is a pause though. "Um. One question. What's a trent?" That's treant Nine. Uh.

    A glance up, his face misty. "...On th' one hand I don't think I get physically older anymore, an technically the ANMC strains don' seem t' die of old age. On th' other, what with th' sleepin thing n' all..." A couple of hundred years? It'd be a good, long-term goal. Seeing his son grow up proper-like.
Sentinel Lunara % Facepalm. Right, Multiverse, people dont naturally know about Azerothenian creatures. ~A treant is a tree who has lived long enough to become self-aware. Or magically enhanced to be so. It usually takes thousands of years for that to happen naturally, but Everlast is different. I can sense a magic in him that I have never sensed before. He is absorbing power from his surroundings constantly, I am sure he is still destined for something much bigger yet.~

After a frown of looking at the willow in question, Lunaras features soften turning once again to Nine. ~You need not worry anymore. For as long as I remain in the Multiverse you can consult with me about any questions you might have of Everlast. He may not be of my world but the domain of nature knows no bounds. If you ever need assistance do not hesitate to call upon me.~