Do Sentinels Dream of Eternal Sleep?

It patrols the Choral Chambers, alert and aware of its surroundings, eyes darting across the halls and rooms for any signs or life, audio sensors straining to hear any echoes of song or psalm. Once, twice, some small number of times that nonetheless blurs together, it cuts down one of the haunted choir bugs, its twin blades making quick work at rending their carapace. Its joints grow sticky with hemolymph, the many colors of blood mixing on its metal shell as if it were nothing more than a painter’s pallet. Soon it will need to clean itself. The bugs huddled together at the settlement to the east blanch and scare when it is as untidy as it is now. It will abide by their preferences. To defend the Citadel, to uphold its directive, it must assure the wellbeing of the few who keep their wits about them. It will not do anybody any good for them to fear their defender.

Or: A Second Sentinel character study mixed in with a bit of Hornet hurt/comfort.