【战锤40k同人作品翻译】Ennui 第八章：破碎 Broken

本章概述：

            亚历桑德拉修女卡住了。

            In which Sister Alessandra gets stuck.

正文：

我不确定为什么要告诉她这个。

我的名字……我为什么要告诉她我的名字？到底是什么让我告诉一个灵族女巫——随便她说自己能做或做不了什么——我的名字？

一想象她可能用我亲口说出的名字从我那取走什么，我的心就凉了半截。她说自己不是女巫，可是灵族跟亚空间紧密相连，正是这一点导致了他们最终的陨落。

我傻愣着蹒跚走出门去浴室，试图不去想我的严重失误，随后停下来，感激这间浴室无比慷慨的赠予。

一个圆形的大浴池，宽到足以让半打人舒适地被容纳其中。一个化妆台和一个宽三格的梳妆台，甚至还有一个壁龛，里面有一个切除了脑叶的机仆等待着接受布置茶点的命令，尽管还有没有剩下的茶点是另一个问题。

我会满足于一次简单的沐浴，

交互面板很简单，我按下了几个激活符文，过了一会儿浴池中就充满了芬芳扑鼻的沐浴水，水面上已经冒出了肥皂泡。

热水看上去相当令人愉悦，我随后回想起了早前的愿望：再次清洁。我发出一声苦笑，抽出了战斗刀并盯着刀刃，那里还留有一丝极淡的鲜红色。

“再次清洁？”我恼怒地嘟哝着。“我在这等失败后还会再度清白么？”

我驱散这些想法，走到其中一个更衣壁龛，脱下我的武器并放在一边，然后摸上我的护颈锁以释放我的动力甲的加压密封。

至少我试图这么做了。

护颈锁卡住了，无论我如何扭转封口我的套装都松不开。

“真是应景，”我弱弱地笑了起来，最后不再拉那个东西。“我好不容易快要洗个好澡，却甚至没法从我的护甲里出来。”

我不想哭出来。

我是一名战斗修女，国教神圣的武装修会的一员，祂的圣命的执行者。我无畏地手执刀剑和爆弹枪介入与绿皮侵略者的交战，不知疲倦地战斗，宰了一个兽人老大，所以我肯定不会因为被卡在护甲里却又超想洗澡而哭出来。

“伊……”我开始叫她的名字，想把她喊过来，但哽在了第一个音节上。

难以置信，我不是想向一个灵族女巫呼救，我绝对拒绝允许自己堕落得那么深。单是我欠她一条命就够屈辱……欠她不止一次则实在不可理喻，可事实如此。

我抓住护颈，继续与之较劲，向帝皇祈祷它会自己松开，可其中一个锁一定是被卡住了，因为它能做的最好的就是发出一阵难听的摩擦音。

“草，”我吐出一句下巢脏话，放弃并举着我的一只能用的胳膊。或许如果我两只手都能动的话我可以硬把密封松开，可我现在无能为力。

另一双手会有所帮助，我的大脑提供了一个叛逆的想法，而我尽职地推开了它。

取而代之的是，我只是怨念地盯着更衣壁龛内，试图想出如何穿着全套盔甲离开浴室又不在伊莎莱眼里显得更受辱。

难怪她不认为我是个威胁，我被困在了自己的护甲里，甚至没法给自己洗澡……我都不大会把自己当作威胁。

毫无预兆地，一阵隐痛袭上我的后背，紧接着的是金属的扭动声，同时一只苍白的手划过抓住了我的护颈猛扭了一下。这制造了一声奇怪的爆响，然后我感到后背上有一阵束缚，伴有金属的抗议，随着密封终于屈服并松脱，又是一声解脱的叹息般的嘶声。

我用力吞了口唾沫，转头看到正后退着的伊莎莱，她的嘴唇勾起一个细微的笑容，一只手抓着一片结实，粗糙的兽人金属，我觉得那就是卡住密封解脱机制的元凶。

“我似乎听到你开始叫我了，但我不确定，”伊莎莱简洁地说，把那片金属弹到一边。“我之前不知道你被卡住了。”

我恨她如此美丽，美到我的呼吸凝滞在喉咙里，

她火红的及腰长发已经不是我在广场上初见她时那样梳成辫子披在身后。现在它自由地倾泻而下，在日出的色泽下勾勒出她柔韧的身躯。她的眼睛也再一次打动了我，丝毫不比之前轻。

紫藤开放时的颜色。

“我……”撒谎说我没有卡住毫无意义，但这还是令我恼火。“你为什么一直帮助我？”我转而问到。

她的表情变成了一种兴致缺缺的放松姿态，随后她又一次耸肩；那奇怪的，人类的表达方式以她拉长的身体比例来看很怪异，让她的整个身体似乎都在此起彼伏。

 “因为我没别的事可做，”她再次把手伸向我并回答道。

当她的手放到我的肩甲上时停了下来，这也是有意为之，我意识到她在沉默地征求同意。

她，一个异形女巫，一个可能见过诸多世界的兴亡的灵族，在征求同意，出于某种原因这让我倍感难以置信，以至于我呆楞了一会儿。

为什么，是我脑中唯一的想法。为什么要她这么做？为什么她是这样的？为什么她与修道院的女教长交给我关于灵族的一切都如此不同？

我震惊到没有躲开她这次的触碰，她视之为许可，开始小心地脱下我的护甲。她的手快而高效地解下每一片，轻松地如同已经这么做过很多次了，对此我颇感好奇。

为什么这个生物如此关注于帮助我？这个问题在我的心里燃烧起来，同时我发现自己稍微屈服了一点，闷闷地享受着我的护甲的重量被细致而精准地移除。以及最重要的是，为什么我让她这么做？

如果她只是在对我撒谎并佐证我的老师们的话，这几乎本会是个安慰。如果发现这一切都是为了某个未知的结果而进行的宏大的操纵，那我可能已经松了口气。

所以我为何如此确信事情并非如此？

伊莎莱把我脱至紧身服，只剩下卡住的左手。

“做好准备，Cre’yth，”她轻声道，“我得要拉得狠点。”

我安静地点点头，咬紧牙关，抓住连着我的腰和壁龛内部的吊杆。伊莎莱抓住我的胳膊，用手指在手套和卡住的金属之间拨弄，站起身来猛地一拉。

我在手臂上淤青，受虐的血肉被经过的金属击中时发出一声闷哼，但左臂这几天来突然能再次活动让我倍感解脱。它目前仍然极为僵硬，我绷着脸试图转动它时只得到了迟钝的反应。

“小心，Cre’yth，”伊莎莱用双手轻柔地托过我的手臂，用手指一路沿着摸过去。“你的肌肉被撕裂了，此外肘部和腕部有扭伤，在这条手臂恢复前尽量不要动它。”

“你为什么关心？”我问到，转身面对壁龛里的她，我已经厌倦了被再次震惊到。现在我只想知道：“你救了我，因为你说我在你的艺术中看到了美，可你现在本可以离我而去……不是么？”

伊莎莱若有所思地看了我一会儿，随后点点头。“我本可以，你说的对，但我也可以说我目前住在这，所以我为什么要这么做？”

“你本可以让我一个人待着，”我强调，“但你没这么做……为什么？”

“因为我想在死前尝试些新事物，”她回答道。“而帮助你……这就是新的，而且我发现自己不讨厌这样。”

“你会原谅我这么说：这个理由看起来对你们种族做的任何事都太简单了，”我反驳道。

“事实不需要被相信，Cre’yth，”伊莎莱带着另一个微笑说，她又抬手拨开我脸上的一簇打结的头发，令我瑟缩了一下。“不过你大体上没错，我已经不再需要我们种族的阴谋诡计，以及事实上，我现在可能比你还觉得这么做令人厌倦，现在……转身。”

她抓住我的肩膀把我翻了个面，她的手指找到了把我的紧身服系在身后的卡扣，并熟练地解开了它们。

“行了，”伊莎莱拍拍我的肩膀告诉我她完事了，然后向后退去，“现在我求求你，Cre’yth，看在你的帝皇或者随便哪些你膜拜的圣人的份上，沐浴吧。你闻起来糟糕透顶。”

我笑了。

这声音毫无预兆地从我嘴里逸出，而当我意识到发生了什么时我几乎咬下自己的舌头。

我笑了。

她让我笑出来了。

我抓住了紧身服，转身看向她，感觉胃中有种冰冷的重量，但她只是漫不经心地走向浴缸。伊莎莱肯定听到我笑了……她都听到了我隔着一个房间或更远时轻声念出的，她自己名字的第一个音节，所以她不可能没听到我笑，但她没有做出反应。她弯腰在热水里搅动着手指，我能看到他她嗅着那股香气，并为之稍稍皱起鼻子。

我不得不承认这个地方之前的主人用于沐浴的香油对我的品味来说太强烈了。我下一次沐浴的时候找到了关掉香油自动涂抹器的方法。

我缓缓地剥下紧身服，皱眉于这种感觉。我短暂地祈祷这这住处里能有某类自动洗衣设备，毕竟我不想在它被洗干净前再穿上它一次。脱掉紧身服后我明白了伊莎莱对我的手臂说得有多正确。

从我的手到紧挨着肩关节下方，我的手臂几乎完全是一片黑，紫，黄的瘀伤。整条肢体都弥漫着一种入肤及髓的钝痛。

不过，新鲜空气在皮肤上的感觉令人愉快，我轻叹着踢开紧身服，拿来一张毛巾，在前往浴池前包裹住自己。

伊莎莱离开了，我对自己没听到她离开又皱起眉头。又一次，我推断着，我也没听见她进来。灵族被认为是超自然地安静，所以我觉得并不是所有的教学都是错的。

我把一只脚浸到水里，开心地舒了口气，然后脱下了毛巾，完全滑入宜人的热水中，发出一声完全是满意的叹息。我看着水被污垢染黑，然后皱着脸想自己是否该先把污物都洗掉再重新放一个浴池的水来切实地清洗干净，不过我的心里所想被地板下低沉的隆隆声打断，水随后开始循环。

很快，水又干净了起来，我笑着明白了自己可以在浴池里想呆多久呆多久。

“我们的帝国被分开了几百个世纪，Cre’yth，”伊莎莱的声音吓到了我，我环抱着自己，几乎跳起来，转身看到她在我身边滑进水里，“但热水浴却是我们共有的享受，真是奇怪。”

我用力咽着唾沫，试图不去看她的裸身，转过头把眼睛死死地聚焦在前方。

嗯，我已经很放松了。

 

原文：

I’m not sure why I told her that.

My name… why did I tell her my name? What on Holy Terra possessed me to tell an Eldar witch, whatever she professes to be able to do or not do, my name?

Cold gripped my heart as I imagined what she might be able to get from me with my name, given freely from my own lips. She claimed to be no sorceress, but the Eldar, to a one, truck deeply with the Warp, and it is that which led them to their ultimate downfall.

I stumbled dumbly through the door to the washroom trying not to think of my egregious error, and paused to appreciate the more than generous appointments it had.

A large bath, circular, and wide enough to fit half a dozen comfortably. A station to apply cosmetics and a wide three paned vanity. There was even an alcove where a lobotomised servitor waited to take orders for refreshments, although whether or not there were any left to be had was a different question.

I would be satisfied with a simple bath.

The interface was simple, I pressed a few of the activation runes and a moment later the bath was filling with sweetly scented bathwater, and suds were already bubbling to the surface.

The hot water looked utterly delightful, and I recalled my earlier wish: to be clean again. I let out a weak, bitter laugh as I drew out the combat knife and stared at the blade. The edge of it still bore the faintest stain of crimson.

“Clean again?” I muttered angrily. “Will I ever be clean again after this failure?”

I pushed those thoughts away and walked over to one of the dressing alcoves, shed my weapons and set them aside, and engaged the latch at my gorget to release the pressurised seals of my power armor.

Or at least, I attempted to.

The gorget latch was jammed, and no matter how I twisted at it the seals of my suit would not release.

“How appropriate,” I laughed weakly as finally stopped pulling at the thing. “I’m finally in front of a fine bath, and I can’t even get out of my armor.”

I was not going to cry.

I was a Sister of Battle, a member of the holy Ordo Militant of the Ecclesiarchy, and an enforcer of His divine ministry. I strode fearlessly into battle against the green invader with blade and bolter in hand, fought without rest, slew an Ork Nob, and I was most certainly not going to cry because I was stuck in my armor despite very badly wanting a bath.

“Is…” I started to say her name, to call out for her, but choked on the first syllable.

This was unthinkable, I was not going to cry out for the help of an Eldar witch, I absolutely refused to allow myself to fall that far. That I owed her my life was degrading enough… that I owed it to her more than once was unconscionable, but there it was.

I took a grip on the gorget latch and struggled with it further, praying to the Emperor that it would just give out, but something must have gotten jammed in one of the seals because at best it only made an ugly grinding noise.

“Frak,” I spat the underhive invective as I gave up and hung my one good arm. Perhaps if I’d had both I could have forced the seal loose, but I was hamstrung.

Another pair of hands would be helpful, my brain supplied the traitorous thought, which I dutifully pushed away.

Instead, I just stared into the inside of the changing alcove miserably as I tried to work out how to leave the bathroom, still fully armored, and not be even further humiliated in Isarae’s eyes.

Small wonder she doesn’t consider me a threat. I’m stuck in my own armor and can’t even bathe myself… I would hardly consider myself a threat either.

Without warning, a dull pain thumped into the small of my back, followed by the sound of metal wrenching as a pale hand swept around at the same time to grip my gorget and give it a hard twist. It made an odd popping sound and I felt a strained pressure at my back as metal protested, then there came a hiss like a sigh of relief as the seals finally gave out and clattered loose.

I swallowed hard, then turned my head to regard Isarae who was stepping back from me, her lips twitching up in a small smile, and one hand gripping a piece of sturdy, crude Orkish metal that I presume was the culprit of my jammed seal release mechanism.

“I thought I heard you start to call for me, but I wasn’t sure,” Isarae said simply, flicking the metal fragment aside. “I did not realise you were stuck.”

I hated that she was beautiful, so much so that my breath was tight in my throat.

Her hair, fiery red and long enough to reach her waist, was no longer in the tight corded braid that fell down her back when I first saw her in the plaza. Now it flowed freely, framing her lithe form in the myriad colors of sunrise. Her eyes, too, struck me again no softer than before.

Eyes the color of Wisteria blooms.

“I…” It was rather pointless to lie and claim I was not stuck, but still, it was galling. “Why do you keep helping me?” I asked instead.

Her face fell to a relaxed posture of disinterest, and she shrugged again; that strange, human expression that looked odd with her stretched proportions, which made her whole body seem to ripple with the movement.

“Because I have nothing else to do,” she replied before reaching out to me again.

Her hands paused as they came to rest on my pauldrons, purposefully too, and I realised she was silently asking permission. She, a xeno witch, an Eldar who may have seen the rise and fall of whole worlds, was asking permission, and for some reason that struck me so utterly unbelievable that I was stunned for a moment.

Why, was the only thought in my mind. Why was she doing this? Why was she like this? Why was she so unlike anything the rectoresses of the convent had taught us about the Eldar race?

I was so stunned that I didn’t recoil at her touch this time, and she took it as silent assent to begin carefully removing my armor. Her hands were quick and efficient as she detached each piece with the ease of someone who had done it many times before, which I found curious.

Why was this creature so concerned with helping me? The question burned in my mind as I felt myself give in a little and sullenly enjoy having the weight of my armor delicately and precisely removed. And why, most importantly, am I letting her?

It would have almost been a comfort if she would just lie to me, and confirm to words of my teachers. Were to discover this all had been some great manipulation towards unknowable ends, I think I might have sighed in relief.

So why did I think with such certainty that this was not the case?

Isarae stripped me to my bodyglove, save for the jammed left arm-piece.

“Brace yourself, Cre’yth,” She said quietly, “I am going to have to pull hard.”

I nodded silently, grit my teeth, and took a hold on the hanging rail that lined the interior of the alcove at my waist. Isarae seized my arm, worked her fingers between the glove and the jammed metal, planted her feet, and yanked.

A strangled cry escaped my lips as the bruised and abused flesh of my arm was beaten by the passing metal, but it was countered by the immense relief of suddenly being able to move my left arm again for the first time in days. It was horribly stiff all the same, and I grimaced as I tried turning it this way and that only for it to respond sluggishly.

“Careful, Cre’yth,” Isarae took my left arm gently in her hands and rang her fingers down the length of my arm. “Your muscles are torn, and you have sprains in your elbow and wrist, try not to move this arm so much until it heals.”

“Why do you care?” I asked, turning to face her in the alcove and far too tired to bother with being surprised anymore. Now I just wanted to know. “You saved me because you say I saw beauty in your art, but you could leave me now… yes?”

Isarae regarded me thoughtfully for a few moments, then nodded. “I could, you are correct, but I would argue that I live here for now, so why would I?”

“You could leave me alone,” I pressed, “but you don’t… why?”

“Because I wish to try something new before I die,” she replied. “And helping you… that is new, and I find I do not dislike it.”

“You’ll forgive me for saying that seems like far too simple of a reason for your kind to be doing anything,” I countered.

“Truth does not require belief, Cre’yth,” Isarae said with another small smile, and she brought a hand up to flick a strand of matted hair from my face, making me flinch. “But you are not wrong in the general sense, I am simply finished with the machinations of my kind, and in truth, I probably find them even more tiresome now than you do, now… turn.”

She took me by the shoulders and turned me about, and her fingers found the small clasps and bonds that kept my bodyglove sealed at the back, and deftly undid them.

“There,” Isarae patted my shoulder to tell me she was finished before stepping back, “now please, Cre’yth, for the love of your Emperor and whatever saints you pray to, bathe. You smell atrocious.”

I laughed.

The sound escaped my lips without warning and I nearly bit down on my tongue as I realised what had happened.

I had laughed.

She made me laugh.

I turned to look back at her as I clutched my bodyglove in place around me, feeling a cold weight in my stomach as I did, but she just walking towards the bath unconcernedly. Isarae had to have heard me laugh… she’d heard the first quiet syllable of her name I had spoken from a full room or more away, so there was no possibility she didn’t hear me laugh, but she wasn’t reacting.

She reached down and twirled her fingers in the heated water, and I could see her sniffing at the scent, and wrinkling her nose a little at it.

I had to agree that the scented oils whoever had owned this place used for their bathes were leaned on a bit too strongly for my taste. Next time I bathed I resolved to find a way to turn off the automatic applicators for the oils.

Slowly, I peeled the bodyglove off, and grimaced at the feeling of it. I prayed briefly there was some kind of laundering device in this hab because I was not looking forward to donning this again prior to it being washed. With the bodyglove shed I realised how right Isarae had been about my arm,

From my hand to just under the joint of my shoulder, my arm was little more than a mass of black, purple, and yellow bruises. The whole limb throbbed with a dull, pervasive ache that seemed to reach from the skin down to my marrow.

Still, the feeling of fresh air on my skin was a delight, and I sighed quietly as I kicked the glove off, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself before venturing out to the bath.

Isarae was gone, I frowned as I realised I hadn’t heard her leave. Then again, I reasoned, I hadn’t heard her enter either. The Eldar were supposed to be supernaturally silent, so I suppose not all of the teachings were faulty.

I dipped a foot in the water, sighed happily, and doffed the towel before slipping fully into the deliciously hot water and letting out a sigh of absolute satisfaction. I watched as the water darkened with grime, and I grimaced as I wondered if I should rinse all of the filth from myself first then run another bath to actually clean up, but my inner musings were silenced by a quiet humming sound from within the floor, and the water began to cycle.

Soon, the water was clear again, and I grinned as I realised I could stay in the bath for as long as I wished.

“Hundreds of centuries divide our empires, Cre’yth,” Isarae’s voice startled me, and nearly leapt in place as I wrapped my arms around myself and turned to see her slipping into the water beside me, “and yet the luxury of a hot bath is something we share, how curious.”

I swallowed hard as I tried not to stare at her nakedness, and turned my head to keep my eyes fixed firmly ahead of me.

Well, I had been relaxed.