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The air in Garlemald is cold and stagnant. It’s as if the city itself is stuck in the moment of its ruin. What a life it must be, to try and push a rusted wheel that resists your every effort. To have exhausted all of your efforts, yet refuse the oil that will ease your task. He's not too different from them, in that sense. But surely they don’t want to hear that from him, he thinks. They don’t want empathy, or charity. Nor does he. He understands.
“Quetz.” A low voice calls out, monotone and gentle. So much so that it doesn’t even stir the frigid air around them. He almost doesn’t want to turn and face her, for he will have no answers for her questions. He doesn’t want to face her, for if he does he’ll have to face things he has been trying to ignore. But he does turn, for maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad to do so.
She's invited to move closer to him, and she’s eager to do so. Eager to find answers. “Thancred told me to follow you. That if I do, I'll figure out how to trust.” Her voice carries no urgency, and her eyes as cold as his seek explanation. “What do you know that I need? Why you, and not others? How does one come to trust?”
Damn that man. Thancred knows better than any that he doesn’t know. Trusting isn’t even a thing he does himself, and asking how to is never something he considered doing. He shakes his head, not as an answer to Zero, but in frustration with the gunbreaker in his head. He doesn’t want to look at her eyes, so deep and expecting, but for some reason he does. Her question is impossible, but she is an impossible being. When would he have ever thought he would be having this conversation with a voidsent? Their world is fractured, scattered, and she is one of the pieces. An existence that defied possibilities, and if he thinks about it, he is too. Maybe for that reason, he doesn’t lie to her.
“I know how to as well as you do.” He tells her, and Zero tilts her head, her eyes partially obscured by her hat. Clearly, that was not the answer she had been expecting. He knew it wasn’t going to be. “Trust…” The word felt weird on his tongue. “...is something I haven't known for a long time. I don't know if it’s something I ever knew.” And yet being so honest was coming so easy. Something about Zero, with her cold eyes and her cold soul, dark and hollow not unlike his own. Or so he thought. Impossible people cause impossible things, perhaps.
“You’re like me, then.” She says plainly, her hand tipping her hat as her thoughts wander. Is that what this feeling is, he thinks. He’s like her, so he can be open. It’s as if she’s a shattered piece of his very soul, so there is nothing to hide. Nothing he can hide.
“So why is it that people trust you?” She asks after her drawn out silence. Another impossible question. But this one is almost absurd. People don’t trust him, he’s not a trustworthy person. He pushes others away, he lets others down. What is there to trust? Zero must have seen something twist in his expression, since she pressed on. “Thancred trusted you would have an answer to give me. Your comrades trust that you will return to them with solutions. These very people of this frozen place trust that you will not bring them harm, despite their generations of despair. You have people far and wide who trust in you, and are hoping you trust them in return. Why do they do so?” Quetz’ eyes were wide, staring at her unwavering, as if doing so was the most certain thing he has ever done. But it isn’t; he is so very uncertain. So confused. What is she even saying? He could barely understand her words before she continues further.
“If you don’t know how to trust, do you not trust them in return? Is their faith in you misplaced?” Quetz nearly chokes. He doesn’t realize his lips are parted until he sucks in a breath, the sharp air stinging his throat. It infects him, his blood runs cold, and he feels like he could become one with the snow beneath his boots. Yes, he wants to say but can’t. Not when Zero’s eyes are looking at him with such intensity. Yes, it’s misplaced. If he allows them to trust him, he will only ever disappoint them. He wants to yell it, but the air bites his throat shut.
“I…” He starts.
“You seem lost.” She finishes for him.
Quetz can feel his heart again. He forgot he had one for a moment. She searches his face, not for an answer but for his soul. The answer she wants, it seems she has found.
“You are surrounded by it, but you don’t know how to recognize it.” Her face is as still as it was when this started. Her soul is no brighter, her eyes no warmer. “Perhaps I am the same. Perhaps… I need to trust that you will find the answer I seek. That you will tell me when you do. Or maybe, that we will find it together.” Yet somehow her gaze makes him feel like he’s burning. It’s like she’s boring into his soul, turning it hot and amber. Such a simple thing she wants, and she believes he can do it. It is small, yet crushing.
But she is there, her soul within his, easing the pressure. She believes he can, so who’s to say he can’t? Is this very feeling what they’re looking for?
When she obscures her eyes with her hat, he feels the brisk air of Garlemald set in once more. The snow beneath his feet has not melted, and he is still whole.
“Jullus and the others will wonder where we are. We should head back.” She starts to move towards Tertium, and she doesn’t check behind her. She trusts he will follow.
“Right.” And follow he does.