[ WP ] `` Why is our grandmother outside with a Trench Gun ? ''

`` Why is our grandmother outside with a Trench Gun?'' 
 
 I look to my brother while lacing up my boots. The leather is worn, comfortable. I've spent a lot of time in them lately. Now I'm having trouble getting them on because my fingers are shaking so badly. I'm not sure I can do this. Not now. Not before I finish training. It's not good. My eyes flick away from my brother, down to my boots. For once I'm glad for the bangs I have, cut straight across my forehead, hanging down because of the angle of my head right now. He should n't see my terror. 
 
 `` Because we need to go. They're coming,'' I tell him, trying to keep my voice steady. Finally, boots are laced up. Good. `` Get your ready bag and get your shoes on. I need to go get our... I need to go for a second.'' 
 
 He stares at me in confusion. 
 
 `` But they ca n't be coming, not yet! We have like... two months of training left! We ca n't just... run!'' he protests. 
 
 I have to get a hold of myself. I'm already calling up the rage and power inside of me, working myself up to doing the actual Hero Binding. I'm not sure I can pull it off for more than half an hour, but it'll be enough time to get away. The heroic spirit is working up inside of me, making my heart pound so hard it hurts. When I look up at him, my eyes are probably full of fire. 
 
 `` Go! Now! That is an order!'' 
 
 He turns on his heel and runs off to his room. 
 
 I stand, catching sight of myself in the mirror. 
 
 Eva Ilsa-Garde, nineteen years old, six foot nine inches tall. Dark skin, dark hair. I tie it back in a ponytail and grab my hat off of the table, tugging it on. 
 
 Tank top tucked into surplus pants. Body firm, strong, quick. A look in my eyes of rage and disgust and fear and... 
 
 Eva Ilsa-Garde, the only female to ever form a bond with a male Heroic Spirit. 
 
 Time to go. 
 
 My boots slam on the hardwood floor as I head into the entrance hallway and rush out the front door. 
 
 `` Granny! Come on! We got ta get out of here! The Sins are coming!'' 
 
 Seven Sins, deadly sins, accumulating underneath them a horde of demons and corrupted humans. Seven Sins to wash the world in death for the Four Riders to come. The end of the world approacheth. 
 
 I've never been more afraid. 
 
 But there's Granny, standing there as a harsh wind rakes the rocky ground. Her nightgown blows along with wispy white hair that has n't been cut in years. Despite her age, her frail body, she hold the trenchgun in one hand. I can feel what she is doing, can feel the shocking pressure as she initiates her Bind. 
 
 The glow is startling and brilliant, obscuring her for a moment as her Heroic Spirit is brought forth from the aether and bound to her body, as it dissolves the ground below her to create the new form using Wild Alchemy. When the glow vanishes, she stands much taller and much broader. Her body looks young now, and beneath the tatters of her nightgown is the scratched up, dented plate armor of The Seasoned Soldier - her spirit. She reaches up and tears the remains of the gown away and then turns to look at me. 
 
 `` You need to go, Eva. The Sins will be held here. I have already laid my traps, dug my trenches and pits and lined them all with the poisoned spikes. Many will die here trying to take this place, but you will flee,'' she tells me. Her face is still lined, but less so. Eyes normally brown are bright, startling green. When she finishes speaking, she faces forward again and drags the combat knife from the shoulder sheath, the blade long and sharp and thick. 
 
 `` But Granny! You could come too!'' I shout desperately. I'm going to have to either do my Bind soon or pull it and cast the power outwards - which would kill us both, probably. 
 
 `` No, I ca n't. I need to buy you time. Go, now! That is an order!'' 
 
 That is an order... words I've gotten used to. Words I've gotten comfortable saying to people I should n't be comfortable saying them to. 
 
 ``... I love you, Granny.'' 
 
 `` I love you too,'' she answers quietly. 
 
 So I turn and run, run back through the house. My ready bag is snagged from the living room on the way. When I push through the back door, brother is already there waiting. He's about to Bind as well, so I just throw my bag aside and close my eyes. 
 
 The Heroic Spirits are strange. No one is sure where they come from or what their original purpose is, but they seem to breed and change as time goes on and as different Binders make use of them. I know they Bind for life with a single person - for that person's life, that is. 
 
 I know mine is definitely male. He and I work together well though. When I call to him in my mind, he comes immediately and with no hesitation. He knows I need him, and he needs me though for what reason I am not sure. 
 
 But he hits me, and we Bind. 
 
 He, The Vengeful Death. 
 
 My brother's Bind is going well, I think. I can feel The Combat Surgeon coming forth from beyond. 
 
 My bones shatter and stretch, pushing me up to the full eight foot nine of my spirit. My shoulders crack and broaden, my hips do the same. Muscle ripples out. Mass is drawn in from the world around us, dissolving a big chunk of the cliffside. I can feel first the plates of his armor, altered to fit a feminine base form, binding to my body with leather and chain, even as my chest grows less... well, just less, in terms of breast tissue. Everything works like that, altering me to the androgynous state of our completed Bind. 
 
 That last thing to come is the mask, cold and metallic and clinging to my face with no straps. The mask of Death, simple and near featureless safe for eye slits and a hinging at my jaw so I can still use my mouth because the mask will move with my jaw. My hair is now black as night, I am sure, and my skin just as dark. 
 
 And then it's done. 
 
 We are one. 
 
 Brother looks to me through his plague doctor mask, tilting his head. 
 
 `` Your Scythe is different,'' he says, voice modulated by the microphone and microspeaker arrangement on the mask. 
 
 I look to the weapon in my long fingered hand and smile. It is different. The blade is sharper, serrated cruelly towards the hilt. Even with that change, the pole is still just thick black metal with no adornment. I spin the weapon and place it on my back, where it holds itself, and spread the batlike wings that are my secret weapon. 
 
 Brother tosses me my bag, and then shrugs his on. These bags are made for our Hero forms, so mine straps to my front. 
 
 `` Come, brother,'' I tell him, hissing each word with my long, saliva dripping black tongue. He hurries close to me, much shorter than I am, and I grab him, bringing him cloth into Death's embrace. 
 
 They do n't expect anyone can survive jumping off the cliff into the chasm full of nothing but rock and sharp spires. 
 
 I do n't have to fall, however. I just run forward and spread my wings, dropping a bit and then gliding towards the far wall at great speed. A few flaps puts me over it, and for a time, I just have to fly low and keep out of sight until we make it to somewhere that I can make the emergency call to the other Binders. 

