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Every morning Blade sits down to finish the daily crossword.
Crosswords are calming, methodical puzzles that require mostly knowledge and a knack for understanding where the creator is coming from. He has more than enough knowledge, having lived as long as he has, but some days he finds himself wanting to personally hunt down and slaughter the constructor along with the editor who allowed such nonsense to be published. There are far too many references to slang used by youth, as well as mentions of famous people he simply doesn't know. Who are these people and why are they relevant enough to be mentioned in his crossword?
Today Silver Wolf is awake early, lounging on the couch after having eaten an actual meal instead of some overly sugary treat that she would dare declare as breakfast. She has her holographic personal computer ("Literally no one calls it that, it’s a PC! ") open and is working through the same crossword as him.
Blade looks down at his phone, stuck.
Positive remark said when someone is true to themself.
None of the words he's tried match up with what he already has, so he comes to an unfortunate conclusion: the answer is yet another slang term that he doesn't know.
"Silver Wolf," Blade says. She looks at him the way she always does when he bothers to speak directly to her outside of missions: slightly confused with a hint of intrigue. She's rather good at hiding it behind a mask of disinterest, but Blade has lived far longer than her and finds her expressions easy to read most days. When she's older, she might learn to hide them better, like Kafka, who never lets anyone know what she's really thinking. "What is 39-across?"
"Oh," Silver Wolf says, and Blade can immediately tell she's back in her comfort zone, "it's 'based'."
Blade spends exactly ten seconds turning that word over in his head before asking, "Being true to yourself is ‘based’? Based on what?" He remembers her explaining what "touch grass" meant a few weeks ago, and that made sense because it seems that the type who game all day don't get out often enough in his honest opinion.
Silver Wolf blinks at him. Then snickers. It's the closest she ever gets to outright laughing. "It's not 'based' on anything. It's just something you say when someone does something that shows they don't care what anyone else thinks. Like the clue says, being true to themself." Her fingers fly across the keyboard.
Blade's phone pings with a notification: Silver Wolf has updated their status to based? based on what? He frowns. Well at least that's better than i forgor. That one irked him a bit. Why would it be amusing to purposely misspell a word?
The scent of coffee appears just before Kafka does. She enters the common area holding a red mug, a smile on her face that he can't tell is satisfied or smug. It's probably both. For a brief moment, he wonders where she got that mugful of coffee from when they're not only out of coffee right now, but there's also not a mug like that in the kitchen. The answer that comes to mind has him swiftly making a u-turn from that train of thought. It's none of his business.
Kafka stops to look at Silver Wolf's screen. She takes a sip of her coffee and makes a pleased hum. "Put ‘starskiff’ for 12-down." And just like that, she’s gone as quickly as she appeared. Blink and you'll miss her.
Silver Wolf deems the answer acceptable and they both continue their solving in comfortable silence.
For as much as Blade hopes for Death to stop milling about, he can't deny there's a certain stillness to be found in moments like this that he appreciates. He can't call it peaceful, because nothing is ever peaceful as long as he can feel the mara simmering within him. This stillness, though, is much like when he spends time honing his swordsmanship. A little melancholic, too.
At 12-down he pauses.
Vehicle used to navigate areas that are high up?
At a glance, 'starskiff' is an acceptable answer, but its vagueness is purposeful. It simply doesn’t make sense when he knows his other answers are correct.
"'Starskiff' is incorrect," Blade says. "It's 'spaceship'. That's why there's a question mark."
There’s a long moment of silence before Silver Wolf begins rapidly typing, followed by his phone rapidly pinging. He sighs. This happens a few times a week—Silver Wolf will get into a one-sided tiff with Kafka, and the only one who ends up suffering is the battery of Blade’s phone. Currently, Kafka is telling Silver Wolf that she never said the word was the correct answer.
There’s no need for him to get involved, so he returns to his crossword, content with the familiarity of it all.