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The fluorescent sun beat down upon the rusted metal wasteland, vast dunes of sandy rust sprawling out as far as the eye can see. It was a quiet day in Camelot, while there was usually a constant stream people wandering in and out of the town, today the town seemed almost ghost - like, save for a few stragglers here and there.
In the gallows, the Hanged Man looked out at the town, gently swaying back and fourth due to the breeze that was somehow able to be produced on the station. No one knew how it had gotten there, and no one bothered to ask. If they had, it probably would’ve jumped not literally, of course, at the chance to explain. It had always been quite personable, you know. Merlin, as they referred to him, was quite the lonely fellow . . . most residents of Camelot didn’t even spare him a passing glance, let alone try to engage him in a pleasant conversation.
It was quite the sad fate, but there wasn’t much he could do to change it.
Of course, being left alone meant he had plenty of time to think —— although, there will always come a time where ones thoughts become too much to bear. Brian, er, Merlin, was no exception to this. And on days like this, where there weren’t any duels to watch or conversations to eavesdrop on to keep him occupied, his thoughts often got the best of him.
He thought about a lot of things. About the Aurora and the crew that accompanied her. He thought about if they actually missed him, or if they even noticed he was gone. Something in his gut told him that they didn’t. It had been almost two millennia at this point. Of course, he didn’t blame them. If he were in their shoes . . . he’d forget about himself, too. He thought about his heart, the one thing he had left that could be considered “ human. “ He also thought about mortality, morality, the consequences of his actions.. just normal, every day moments of crisis. After a while of these thoughts, the brass man’s face a mixture of pain and reminisce, he was snapped out of his daze at the sight of a figure standing before him.
The man was new to him — new to town too, it seemed. Merlin peered up at him as best he could, trying to pick out the other’s features, though it was hard, being upside - down as he was. The man before him was muttering to himself, eyes scanning the brass figure with a frown tugging at his lips.
A hand reached out to brush against a metal cheek —— he must not have realized Merlin was awake. Or even alive, for that matter. The calloused fingers were rough to the touch, and yet he was being nothing but gentle. Finally, after a moment, the stranger spoke up, loud enough for him to hear.
“Now, what do we have here ... ?” Gaze shifting down to the name engraved in the man’s chest, squinting slightly in order to make out what it said. “Merlin, huh ?” His words rang out and echoed across the empty town, and while Merlin knew his words were rhetorical, he couldn’t help but speak up.
“ D — didn’t your parents ever te — each you not to t - touch people w - without their permission ? “ The Hanged Man finally spoke, wincing as his voice box cracked, whirred and stalled due to centuries of not being used. “ E — especially stra — angers, for that matter. “
That obviously startled the stranger, who stumbled back, allowing Merlin to finally get a better look at him. The man’s dull, orangish - red hair was tied back with a strip of leather, and there were a pair of leather gloves hanging out of the pocket of his jacket. A black jacket in this heat was .. a choice. Merlin’s own choice of clothes wasn’t any better, but it’s not like he could change. At least the stranger had the luxury of not being completely covered in dust.
Merlin tried his best to lean forward in his awkward position to get a better look at the man’s face. It was quite rugged, with a weary lines littering it. Although his face was home to stubble littered with gray, and his dark brown eyes seemed to hold years of wisdom, the man seemed ... young. He couldn’t be any older than his 30s, the Hanged Man thought.
“My sincerest apologies,” The stranger spoke, fiddling with one of the gloves that was previously residing in his pocket. An apologetic look rested on his features, his curiosity about the brass man hanging never wavering. “I didn’t mean to disturb ya’, and I certainly meant no harm.” The Hanged Man merely let out a soft laugh, tilting his head slightly to the side. “ It’s no problem, really. Although, I would appreciate it if I could get your name. ” He hummed, gaze focused on the man. It’s not like he could really look at anything else, but he didn’t mind.
Even if he could, he got the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to look away away from the man, no matter how hard he tried.
“Father Galahad.“ The man spoke with a smile, although it wavered at the expression on the Hanged Man’s face. “ A man of faith, I see. “ He responded, the disdain clear in his voice. Merlin didn’t mean to be rude, of course, but he didn’t exactly have the best relationship with priests. Or religion in general, really. Brass fingers flexed and clenched into fists as he tried to relax, and Galahad could see the man’s discomfort as clear as he could read the named etched on his chest.
“..I ain’t gonna do anything to ya’, Merlin. M’just here to talk.” He spoke gently, his gaze softening slightly. Letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, the Hanged Man relaxed slightly at the other’s words. “ . . . I can’t remember the last time someone came to talk. “ He finally replied, a small smile once again tugging at his lips.
That smile was nice, Galahad thought. He wouldn’t mind seeing it again. “Well, then,” He started, arms folding against his chest as he peered at the Hanged Man with a smile of his own, “I’m honored to be the first.”
And with that, Galahad and Merlin talked. They talked just about anything and everything. Galahad was intrigued by the Hanged Man and his peculiar situation, and Merlin was just glad to have the company. They must’ve lost track of time, because soon the sun was setting over Camelot, casting long shadows against the steel floor of the city.
As he realized the time, a soft sigh heaved from the brass man. “ You should probably get going. “ There was just the slightest tinge of sadness in his voice - since it had been so long since he had had proper company, the time flew by fast. Way too fast, in his opinion.
With his suggestion, the preacher nodded, offering the other before him one more smile. “It was a pleasure meeting ya’, Merlin.” “ I could say the same to you, Father Galahad. “ They both paused, some sort of unknown tension hanging over them. After a moment, the man nodded, starting to turn away from the gallows. As he turned, the Hanged Man spoke, one last time.
“ . . . See you tomorrow ? “ The priest paused for a moment at that, his shoulders shaking with a soft chuckle. “I know where to find ya’.” Looking back one more time, Merlin reached down... his up, really, with his free hand to tip his hat.
And with that, Galahad took his leave, leaving the Hanged Man to his lonesome once more.