【战锤40k同人作品翻译】Ennui 第十️二章：呼吸 Breath

本章概述：

            伊莎莱偷听。

            In which Isarae eavesdrops.

 

正文：

这不是我想要的。

“…Attica Tenzen, Orissa Kassiter, Milla Roman…”

我甚至不确定自己到底想要什么。我知道亚历桑德拉需要衣服，但是人类的容貌对我来说粗笨又古怪，他们用于蔽体的单调的口袋对我来说都很相似。我曾认为她可能会在曾经住在这里的女人的私人物品里找到些穿的，但这不是我想要的。

“…Septime Ulyssanna, Mikasa Maer, Zenova Thrace.”

我倚靠在门上叹了口气，在胸前环抱起双手听着她吟诵着死者的名字。也许在她在这些房间里闲逛时装睡是个错误，只要她被我的存在分散注意力，她就不会想到来到这个世界时所发生的事。

她朗读出的每一个名字都带着一阵痛苦的灵能回响，它们激起的柏油般的病态的波浪让我几乎无法忍受。我从来都想不到痛苦的风味尝起来会是糟糕的，最差它可能没有任何味道，可亚历桑德拉的痛苦呢？

我发现自己完全不喜欢这样。

她的嗓音在第九个名字上微弱了下来，她安静了片刻才重新念诵起来。

“帝皇呵，人类之尊主，请记下这些名字，带她们归于荣耀，”亚历桑德拉的声音紧绷着，我能听到其中含着泪水。“愿我的姐妹们在对人类之敌的永恒战争中战斗于您的身侧，愿……愿她们能注视着我，直至我们再度于您的右手边并肩。”

不确定性并非我所习惯的事物。

她所感受到的痛苦，我没有任何办法缓解，我没法许给她任何东西来解下她肩上源于自己的苟活的枷锁。

“当她大限将至，尽管这并非您的领域，我恳求您，无错者呵，向这沉沦的世界伸出您的手——”

我僵住了，一股寒意在亚历桑德拉继续向她的尸皇祈祷时窜上了我的脊柱。

“——籍此带艾达灵族的伊莎莱的异形灵魂远离黑暗诸神之饥渴，因她展示给我仁慈和好意，因她对我的善意，我愿恳求您，神圣泰拉上的神皇，向她伸展您无限慈悲的至微一触。”

她在为她的姐妹们……也为我祈祷。

“Ave Imperator ad Domine Aeternum（致以永恒之主）.”

我用力地吞咽着，亚历桑德拉结束祈祷时，一种怪异的疼痛占据了我的胸膛。听到他们中一个基因强化的狂信徒在动力剑回砍时对我吼出的仇恨呼喊是一回事，可听到为我的灵魂祈求保护和赦免则完全是另一回事。

“我不需要赦免，”我轻声说，“面纱之外没有光明，只有黑暗在饥肠辘辘。”

一个昼夜悄然无声地流逝，除了兽人们找到什么新的能炸飞的东西时在远方稀稀拉拉的引爆。我本该做点有建设性的事，一些有用或最起码让我接近我的目标的事。我本是来到这个世界寻死的，而我出于讲不清道不明的原因愈发地不专注于此。

亚历桑德拉正让我分心，这很明显，可是为什么？

她为什么让我分心地如此彻底？为什么每次我即将弃她而去时都感到腹中一阵疼痛？

我站在之前一直倚靠在门上的地方，感觉像是，实际上可能是，几个小时。

夜幕降临，行星周期快速退进着，我一路走进客厅，目光跨过阳台。

人类城市是如此的丑陋。

至少科摩罗优雅的刀片状尖顶是被精妙地设计并放置的。这里的尖塔像携带致命病菌的长矛般直插云霄，用它们饱经风霜的身躯染黑了天穹，它们似乎是被随意的挤在一起，在这个短视的种族由于看到了对空间的需求而丝毫不考虑它们会通向哪里的地方拔地而起。

一阵微弱的铃声把我的注意力吸引到了喷气摩托上，我眯起了眼睛。只有被动感应阵列仍在活跃，而在这脆弱的世界上没有什么能激发它的东西。

“只能是网道传送门，”我呼出一口气，咒骂着穿过房间，扯下摩托上的防水布，开始循环能量电池。

这花了我一点时间，但在我能做到时我就进行了窄带主动扫描，瞄准了我现身的山丘。

信号很微弱，但它的确在那里。

有什么东西最近从网道里出来了。

“劫掠者？”我对此沉思了一会儿。“不……没有黑暗灵族会想来这里，没有执政官会浪费他们的资源在兽人窝里猎杀一个疯了的魅魔，”我对于自己疯了的想法报以轻笑，并推断这也许比没有更真实。“那么是我的方舟世界胞亲？可为什么？”

方舟灵族是群被可憎地约束着的家伙，但直到为时已晚为止总是很难预测为什么他们会出现在某处。他们的先知让他们穿越已知星系的纵深，以或这样或那样的方式出于各种原因扭曲命运的线束，所以我猜测这里一定有什么符合那种描述。

“让他们冒险用如此接近黑暗之城的大门可真够悲哀的，”我笑着关掉了喷气摩托。说到底，没必要引起他们的注意。

这应该不是方舟灵族第一次介入某场看似毫无意义的人类战争，应该只是我运气不好找上了一个他们感兴趣的。我不想死于我那群自视甚高的表亲之手，那种死法让我很不舒服。

我叹了口气，倚在摩托的座位上思考起自己的选项。他们不可能注意不到一个肆无忌惮地屠杀兽人的巫灵，即便是在战争中，那意味着在确定他们离开前我得推迟自己的计划。

出于某种原因，这并不像它本应该的那样令我恼火。

“不过，我最终还是要调查一下这个，”我喃喃着再次把帆布罩上喷气摩托。

我得安装一个传感器，以此获知他们什么时候离开这个溃烂的城市，不然只能靠猜，而我讨厌猜测。

不过现在不行……晚点吧。现在他们应该会设立一个前哨站来运作，不会离大门很近，但会近到足以监控它。毕竟，他们可不想要一整支黑暗灵族突袭小队出现在他们扑粉的屁股上。

幸运的是，在这段时间里我有别的可分心的事物。

我回到卧室，安静地打开门，只最低限度地用指关节轻敲门槛预示我的进入。

亚历桑德拉在酣睡中，如我所推测的那样。而我没有想到的，是她睡觉时穿着的东西。

那是一件连衣裙，显然是给比她更矮更瘦的人穿的，因为它落到了她的小腿中部而非它似乎本该落到的脚踝。

亚历桑德拉有着非常人类的曲线，宽阔的臀部，强壮的双腿，和几个昼夜以来撑起另一具身体的重量的动力甲的宽阔肩膀。她的手臂有着必要时能尽全力支撑起爆弹枪全自动射击所需的轮廓和力量，但她的肌肉透着昭示她的青春的柔和。

我不知为何，但我发现自己像她在我们沐浴时盯着我那么久一样盯着她。我之前一直没有发现她的身体几乎如此吸引人。情感上，是的……我一直试着辨认她的味道，可我现在感受到的是完全形体上的。

过小的裙子包裹着她的身形，和她在胸前抱着枕头蜷缩着沉睡的样子让人很难把她和那个一边冲向兽人老大一边怒吼着用爆弹枪开火的女战士相提并论。她看起来……很脆弱，不只是某种我能杀死的事物，而是别的什么。是某种照亮我内心深处超过一千年都没感受过的地方的事物。

我……想要保护她。

亚历桑德拉轻哼了一声，我几乎被这突如其来的声音吓得蹦起来。这声音很尖锐，像是痛苦的呐喊，刹那间我的手在剃刀连枷的刀柄上握得发白。

“这就是为什么，”当我意识到这一点并进入战斗姿态时，这些词语脱口而出。

这就是为什么我不能离开。

是她。

我强行张开手，松开连枷，与此同时亚历桑德拉在床上原地抽搐了一下，又发出另一声叫喊。她正在被噩梦缠绕，我在曾经服务过的阴谋团的奴隶那里见过太多次了。

Shae’lith执政官一直乐于往他的奴隶围栏里充满灵能性气体，以求过度刺激Mon-Keigh那原始的大脑的视听皮层。再加上随着食物摄入的致幻剂构成了实质上的噩梦鸡尾酒。我曾在那些惨叫声增长到干扰了我的一些巫灵时问过他这个，而他回答说这有助于他的睡眠。

想到亚历桑德拉正遭受着如此噩梦，我便反胃到我想已经忘了如何感受的程度。

又是一声低喊，我皱起了眉头。我可以关门离开，去听不到她的住所的另一头，但我立即便知道这没有用。事实上，我很确定这段距离只会让我的胃翻腾得更猛烈。

相反，我抓住梳妆台旁的椅子，把它拉到她正睡着的床边，然后坐了下来。

“我这么做只是因为你没有醒着，看不到也听不到它，”我嘟哝着伸出手去，滑进她的一只手里，她的那只手立刻就以惊人的力道抓住了我的，我的拇指在她的指关节上抚过几次。“我们将不会谈起这个，Cre’yth……永远。”

我不确定自己为什么要讲话。她不可能在噩梦的煎熬中听到我，但……也许她能听到别的什么。

清了清嗓子，我皱起眉来。“疯了的魅魔……这种描述肯定从未这么准确过。”

亚历桑德拉细微的低喊以嘶哑的啜泣收尾，我叹了口气。

“嗯很好，”我轻捏了下她的手，然后张开嘴唇，深吸了一口气……

然后我开始唱歌。

 

原文：

This wasn’t what I wanted.

“…Attica Tenzen, Orissa Kassiter, Milla Roman…”

I wasn’t even certain what I had wanted. I knew that Alessandra needed clothes, but human physiognomy was bulky and odd to me, and any one of the drab sacks they draped their bodies in looked similar to any other. I had reckoned that perhaps she would find something to wear in the personal effects of the female who lived her before but this was not how I’d wanted it to go.

“…Septime Ulyssanna, Mikasa Maer, Zenova Thrace.”

Leaning on the door, I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest as I listened to her intone the names of the dead. Perhaps pretending to be asleep as she wandered these quarters had been a mistake, so long as she was distracted by my presence she wasn't thinking of the events that resulted from her coming to this world.

Every name she spoke aloud carried with it an echo of pain that road a sick, tarry wave which I could hardly stomach. Never before had I considered the flavor of pain to have a poor taste, at the very least it might have no taste at all, but Alessandra’s pain?

I found I had no liking for it.

Her voice trailed off at the ninth name, and she grew quiet for a moment before picking up the cadence again.

“O’ Emperor, Lord and Master of Mankind, keep these names and bear them to glory,” Alessandra’s voice was tight and strained, and I could hear the tears in it. “May my Sisters fight ever by thy side in thy eternal war against the adversaries of man, and may… may they look kindly upon me, til we stand side by side once more at thy right hand.”

Uncertainty was not something I was accustomed to.

This pain she felt, there was nothing I could do to alleviate it, nothing I could grant her that would lift the yoke of her survival from her shoulders. 

“And when her time is nigh, though it be not thy province, I beg thee, O’ Faultless One, to stretch out thy hand to this benighted world-”

I froze, a chill riding up my spine as Alessandra continued to pray to her dead Emperor.

“-and bear hence the xenos soul of Isarae of the Aeldari away from the hunger of the Dark Gods, for she has shown me kindness and grace, and she has been gentle to me, and I would beg thee, God-Emperor on Holy Terra, to extend to her the smallest touch of thy infinite mercy.”

She was praying for her sisters… and for me.

“Ave Imperator ad Domine Aeternum.”

I swallowed thickly, a strange pain taking up residence in my chest as Alessandra closed her prayer. It was one thing to hear one of their genhanced zealots screaming litanies of hatred at me on the backswing of a powered blade, but another thing entirely to hear a prayer for protection and absolution spoken for my soul.

“I do not need absolution,” I hissed softly, “there is no light beyond the veil, only the hungering dark.”

The cycle ticked by noiselessly, save for the occasional distant detonations of the Orks finding something new to blow up. I should have been doing something productive, something useful or at the very least something that steered me closer to my goal. I had come to this world to die and for reasons I couldn’t quite place I was becoming less and less focused on that.

Alessandra was distracting me, this was obvious, but why?

Why was she distracting me so thoroughly? Why was it that every time I neared the door to leave her behind, I felt an ache in the pit of my stomach?

I stood from where I’d been leaning on the door for what felt like, and what may have in fact been, hours.

Night had fallen, the planetary cycle moving quickly through its paces as I made my way out into the living room to stare out across the balcony.

Human cities are such ugly things.

At least the gracefully bladed spires of Commorragh were artfully designed and placed. These spires which soared into the heavens like pestilential spears to blacken the skies with their weather-scarred frames seemed to have been jammed into place at random, risen wherever the short-sighted species that owned them foresaw a need for space without the faintest consideration for where they would go from there.

A faint chiming drew my attention to the jetbike, and I narrowed my eyes. Only the passive sensory array was still active on it and there was nothing that would trigger it on this brittle world.

“Nothing but the webway portal,” I breathed, cursing as I crossed the room, tore the tarp off of the bike, and began cycling up the energy cells.

It took a moment but as soon as I was able to I engaged an active scan, narrow-band, and aimed at the hills where I had emerged.

The signature was faint, but it was there.

Something had emerged from the webway, and recently, 

“Raiders?” I mused on that for a moment. “No… no Drukhari would bother to come here, no Archon would waste their resources hunting a mad Succubus in a den of Orks,” I chuckled at the thought of myself as mad, and reasoned that it was probably truer than not. “Then my Craftworld kin? But why?”

The Aeldari of the Craftworlds were loathsomely restricted creatures, but it was always difficult to predict why they were anywhere until it was too late. Their Seers had them traipsing the length of the known galaxy to twist the skeins of fate this way or that for various reasons, so I supposed there must be something here that fit that description.

“It must be truly dire for them to risk using a gate so close to the Dark City,” I laughed as I powered down the jetbike. No need to draw their attention, after all. 

This would not be the first time that Craftworld Aeldarii had interfered in some seemingly pointless human war, but it was just my bad luck I’d found one they were interested in. I had no desire to die to my self-righteous cousins, that death sat ill with me. 

Sighing, I leaned back in the seat of the bike and considered my options. There was no way they would fail to notice a Wych slaughtering Orks with abandon, even in the middle of a war, and that meant I would have to put off my plans until I was certain they had left.

Somehow, that didn’t seem as irritating to me as it should have.

“I should still investigate it eventually though,” I muttered as I pulled the tarp over the jetbike again. 

I would have to plant a sensor so I knew when they had left this festering city, otherwise it would all be guesswork, and I hated guesswork.

Not now though… later. Now they would be setting up a forward outpost to operate from, not too close to the gate, but close enough to monitor it. They wouldn’t want an entire Druchii raiding party emerging on their powdered arses, after all.

Fortunately, I had something else to distract me in the meantime.

I returned to the bedroom, opening the door quietly with only the barest rapping of my knuckles against the threshold to herald my entrance.

Alessandra was sleeping, as I had suspected. What I had not expected, was what she was sleeping in.

It was a dress, one that was clearly meant to be worn by someone shorter and leaner than her, as it came down to her mid-calves instead of to her ankles where it seemed like it was supposed to. 

Alessandra was blessed with very human curves, wide hips, strong legs, and broad shoulders from carrying another body’s weight of armor for cycles at a time. Her arms had the definition and power necessary to brace a Bolter firing on automatic by main force if necessary, but there was a softness to the muscle that spoke of her youth.

I don’t know why, but I found myself staring at her much as she had stared at me when we were bathing. I hadn’t found her nearly so physically engaging then. Emotionally, yes… her flavor was something I was still trying to place, but what I felt now was purely physical.

The way the too-small dress hugged her form, and how she was curled up asleep and clutching a pillow to her chest made it difficult to compare her to the warrioress who had out-charged an Ork Nob whilst screaming and firing her Bolter. She looked… vulnerable, more than just something I could kill, but something else. Something that set a light in the deep places of my chest that I hadn’t felt in better than a thousand years.

I… wanted to protect her.

Alessandra let out a soft cry, and I almost leapt in place at the sudden sound. It was sharp, like a cry of pain, and in an instant my hand had a white-knuckled grip on the haft of razorflail.

“So that’s why,” the words escaped my lips as the realisation struck me and rose out of my combat stance.

That's why I couldn't leave.

It was her.

I forced my hand open, releasing the flail as Alessandra jerked in place on the bed and let out another cry. She was having a nightmare, I’d seen it more than enough in the slaves of the Kabal I’d served. 

Archon Shae’lith had been fond of filling his slave pens with psychogenic gases meant to overstimulate the audio/visual cortex of the Mon-Keigh’s primitive brain. That combined with ingested hallucinogens in their food made for a literal nightmare of a cocktail. I’d asked him about it once when the shrieking had grown such that it was distracting some of my Wyches, and he had said that it helped him sleep.

The thought of Alessandra being subjected to such a nightmare actually turned my stomach in a way I thought I’d long since forgotten how to feel.

Another small cry, and I grimaced. I could close the doors and leave, go to the other side of the quarters where I couldn’t hear her, but I knew instantly that it wouldn’t help. In fact, I was certain that the distance would make the churning in my stomach worse.

Instead, I grabbed the chair by the vanity, pulled it around to the side of the bed she was sleeping on, and sat down.

“I am only doing this because you’re not awake to see or hear it,” I muttered quietly as I reached out and slid my hand into one of hers, which she immediately gripped it with alarming strength, and I ran my thumb over her knuckles a few times. “We will never speak of this, Cre’yth… ever.”

I wasn’t sure why I was talking. She couldn’t hear me from within the throes of her nightmare, but… perhaps she would hear something else.

Clearing my throat, I scowled. “Mad Succubus… surely such a descriptor has never been more accurate.”

Alessendra’s soft cry ended in a croaked sob, and I sighed.

“Oh very well,” I gave her hand a small squeeze, then parted my lips, took a deep breath…

And I began to sing.