Chapter Text
Slowly wandering around the Shambali Temple late at night was a true gift. The stone walls of the religious site are quiet in the face of the night, barely a sound by the time you usually look around and take time out of your day to clear your thoughts.
This was your third day of sightseeing late at night. You were invited to the temple to experience the beauty and peace that the Iris gives those willing to listen.
The room you stayed in was fine, simple, and comfortable. Perfect for many of the monks at the temple. But because they didn’t expect many visitors of flesh and blood, it lacked some of the luxuries you’d be accustomed to, like a sleepable bed.
Maybe you should’ve communicated that with Mondatta at the start of your second day here, but he’d become busy quickly- the perks of being a religious figure.
The intricate carvings and tapestries draped across the walls were beautiful. Woven and painted by the monks themselves, every piece tells a story. The awakening of Aurora was painted and chiseled into the very soul of the temple. It was overwhelmingly beautiful and overwhelmingly human .
The raw devotion you saw day to day in this place was awe-inspiring. But you’d noticed many other things that depicted that raw emotion within the Shambali Monastery.
Two monks of the mission stood out to you. The first is a monk named Zenyatta, who is full of young energy and has a heart of pure gold. Positive and wise beyond his years- he took the most after Master Mondatta to you.
Peace was something he truly believed could happen and would take any beating if that meant helping another. Sometimes, his views seemed a bit naïve- but otherwise he was well grounded.
The second monk that stood out to you was a R-7000 Ravager who took the name of Ramattra. He was larger than all of the other omnic monks at the temple. He had experienced true suffering after his awakening and had quite the chip on his shoulder from it. He stayed far away from you, but why would you press him on his discomfort?
You weren’t even able to get close to him like that. From what Zenyatta described of his viewpoint, he was more grounded in the harsh reality around him, even if that made him jaded, cynical, and otherwise withdrawn from you.
You were finally removed from the circular motion of your thoughts, finding yourself in a very large room full of dim lighting and bookshelves. You’ve just entered the Shambali archives. There, you saw a large omnic still wearing his robes, scanning a text. His optics quickly found you at the entrance of the library before turning away, faceplate still dug into the ancient text.
He did not greet you or otherwise acknowledge your presence.
Most of the monks in the monastery welcomed you with open arms and would greet you- but not Ramattra.
You stood in the entrance way for a bit, scanning the room and Ramattra with your eyes as the seemingly infinite piles of books littered the area. There was a desk that had a couple of books on it, and a small light above. You assumed that’s where Ramattra had been keeping himself busy for the last couple of hours instead of retiring to his room for the night.
“This is the archives. I would’ve thought you’d know where your room was after a day but clearly I made a miscalculation. ”
His venom shot at you quickly, he assumed you would’ve left shortly after he gave you the perfect example of ‘go away, I’m going to ignore you now’ body language. His voice rasped a bit in sarcasm, the lower tone making static buzz from his voice box.
“My apologies, I prefer looking around the monastery when it’s quiet. It’s much easier to enjoy the art when it’s quiet and I don’t risk interrupting any ceremonies.”
It’s quick and gets to the point. No need to be rude to someone who’s housing you for the time being. Even if it did get under your skin, the other two times he’s spoken to you have been of a similar caliber. It still hurts, though.
He seemed to nod in acknowledgment, optics once again scanning you before setting the text down in his study corner. He then finally decided to talk to you alone for the first time in all of your visit.
“Why did you decide to come here? To make us uncomfortable? It seems your kind makes it their personal vocation.”
He’s large and imposing, the LEDs on his forehead glowing in the dim light, even covering your face in a light red hue.
“I’m completely willing to leave you if that’s what you want from me,”
You step back a little, enough to reclaim some of your personal space. His intimidation is slightly working on you. But, in all you strive to be as professional as possible.
“That wasn’t my question, but I appreciate the offer. But I’d rather you answer my inquiries instead of dancing around them. Why are you here?”
He was brimming with arrogance.
Of course, you can’t just politely side-swipe his questions.
Of course, it just so happens to be a nasty confrontation late at night when many of the monks are in deep prayer or sleep mode.
You always have the best of luck when it comes to situations like this.
He spoke to you like you had just opened your eyes to the ugliness of the world. Your grip tightens in your pockets as you take a deep breath and answer him:
“I’m here to study and write. Most people don’t get an opportunity to see such a large religious movement happen in their lifetimes so I wanted to document as much as I could from an outsider's perspective.”
Simple, respectful, surely an appropriate answer right? You weren’t lying at all. You weren’t dressing your speech up to sound important or enlightened, and best of all maybe this would show him that you aren’t miserable to be around so you can at least greet each other while the sun is up?
“Why would a human have such a close eye on an omnic form of religion?”
This time he was serious, not insulting you at all, and genuinely sincere. He did have a point though, because most of the humans around the Shambali monastery weren’t interested in anything other than violence against the omnics who inhabited the temple. You’d heard of the hate crimes happening from anti-omnic hate groups around the monastery for a couple of months now.
“I’m a scholar, I specifically study religion and how it affects the people and the world. That’s why I couldn’t ignore the invitation from Master Mondatta.”
Your reply seemed to make the omnic feel less tense, the servos in his shoulders loosening at the answer. He must’ve been just looking out for the safety of the other monks and himself. A gesture that showed the love he had for the omnics around him.
“I see. That is a respectable profession.”
The small bit of approval made you so relieved, it’s much easier to study when you’re not so on edge. You slowly relax just like he has, relieved at the acceptance, respect, and lack of hostile behavior from him.
A short, and small meeting that just so happened to be at night. The stars above are the only thing watching you two quietly talk light philosophy together, sharing some beliefs, surface-level hardships, and memories of fonder times.
Ramattra is extremely intelligent, very aware of the social constructs binding him and his people like a constrictor to certain roles or beliefs. He is a wonderful conversationalist to someone like you who is very interested in his unique perspective inside the monastery.
But none of your conversation truly encompasses any heavy topic- just references to how the real world is.
“Would you mind meeting here again? You’re a very good conversationalist.”
The question rings in the air for a moment as you almost stop breathing. A second goes by before Ramattra slowly answers
“I do not mind, you seem to be… open to some of my thoughts.”
Ramattra keeps it brief, his voice calm. He doesn’t get the opportunity to talk to a scholar every day and you intrigue him. You can hold an intellectual conversation and you also don’t hold many human assumptions against him as if they were written within the stone of the monastery itself. That is relieving.
You slowly leave the archives, waving a polite goodbye to your new acquaintance as he gives you a polite nod. You continue to look around the chiseled walls of the monastery, the intricate woven tapestries with brilliant woolen thread hanging from the walls, the metallic decoration all across the building’s exterior and interior.
It’s a beautiful sight, and the stars above add a bit of extra light to the otherwise dim hallways.
You finally make it to your room before going to sleep. But you continue to think about your meeting with him.