The Ferrymyn
Another knight's body hits the floor, one of their legs removed via plasma fire. The bio-mechanical march won't stop for another casualty, but the Ferrymyn will. The stampede of knights pushes forward, leaving an opening for the Ferrymyn to preform their rituals. The Ferrymyn approach the fallen; minds sharing burdens of pain. The breathing of the wounded knight slows; both from her withering heart, but also the warm touch on her cheeks. In her delirious state she almost missed that her helmet had been removed. A gentle touch wiped tears from her eyes, granting her clarity. A Ferrymyn's hand was caressing her cheek. They were whispering something in a language the knight could only guess. She hoped it was a prayer. Talk of Ferrymyn was forbidden, as if that every stopped anything in the history of humankind. The knight knew what it meant for a Ferrymyn to bless you. This would be the day her days ended. Until then she would enjoy the first time that she felt the breeze play with her short hair. The cacophony of battle the only sounds gracing her ears without filter. The smell of death lingering with an ocean breeze, a mixing of salt and iron on the tongue. Though the most striking sensation was that of another humans face. No armour, no augmentations. Just a person with a smile. They would carry her beyond. And the knight hoped someday she would do the same. Become a Ferrymyn for another, and feel touch once again.
"Thank you"