ettiqus

[ettiqus]

cold ashes - duke

Duke goes through reams of notes in Zion while speaking with the Dead Horses. History is one of the cheapest disciplines to pursue, he'd joked once with a traveling companion he could no longer name, just talk to people. He still thinks as much, but he knows now that he pays in other ways.

"I once stayed in an old homestead kept by a small family on the edge of a town. Greener pastures, before the Mojave." The slight pause gives his words an unintended air of confession, and Duke's brow twitches down halfway through taking out a hand-rolled cigarette from his coat. Not quite the effect he wanted. "My stay was cut short by fire- their eldest son had dropped a lantern in the manger. With help from the neighbors, we extinguished the barn in a few hours, but the debris still held residual heat. Cold ashes. For three days and two nights, the remains kept reigniting."

He strikes a match off of one of the rocks in the firepit. For a moment, he mistakes the caustic hiss as a sound Joshua makes, despite how ridiculous it seems when he thinks about it. The flame wavers. The Burned Man is silent. Steady on.

"We stopped hauling up buckets from the river when there was nothing left to save." He pauses to light the cigarette, glancing up when he's done to gauge Joshua's reaction. There's nothing to scrutinize, and it's hard to say if Duke's relieved or disappointed. He releases a slow drag, taking on the sound of a sigh. "Of course, I study people. Not burning burnings."

Duke's expression doesn't change, but there's something quiet, urgent in the look he levels over the fire. A familiar question- do you know what it means?

Joshua says nothing, reveals nothing, as though he's been gravely wronged. Maybe things would be easier that way. Logically speaking, Duke knows nothing good should come of trying to have a heartfelt one-on-one with the Malpais Legate. The shorter his cigarette gets, the more certain of this he becomes. The moon sets a noticeable distance in the night sky before Joshua speaks.

"You don't smoke."

Duke blinks like he isn't sure if he heard that right. It's not the response he expected, just barely capable of being construed as wry. The thought is more than a little unsettling, especially when it seems to be Joshua telling him I see you. Duke raises his brows and relents, putting out the cigarette in the red dust and stowing the remains in an old mint tin with two others. Good sportsmanship and all.

"You're right." He smiles, there and gone quickly. "What was I thinking?"

In the distance, he hears Sydney wade across the river, cursing at the chill. Joshua stands.

"Wait. You didn't-"

"I heard you." His eyes are blue, Duke knows this, but the dying fire casts them both in strange shadows, and at this moment they gleam black like spots of wet ink. "Zion will not be governed by fables."

"... No." None but your own, Duke thinks, and lets the Burned Man's back vanish into the night.

[ettiqus]

flying lessons - twitch + bile

The truth is, Twitch doesn't know a thing about planes or helicopters besides the fact that they like to go up fast and come down hard, and he never thought he'd have a reason to try flying either of 'em. So he asks Bile anyway.

Twitch picks an odd time to realize he's never seen Bile in profile before, when the pilot's a foot from his face and stretching half-in, half-out across the inside of a private Cessna.

There's a cockpit joke to be made here, but the plane is absolutely baking as Bile takes his sweet time with some last minute checks, and the noon sun broils away the low-hanging fruit. Bile had reassured Twitch in the hangar that the heat wouldn't be a problem. Well, his exact words were to "just crack a window at cruise altitude," and it's still unclear if he meant that as a joke. Twitch is distracted again watching those tacky aviators slip down Bile's nose as he grunts and leans over the other seat to demonstrate what's what.

"Here, look- not too different from a car, except, you know, the extra axis. This pitches, those yaw, don't get fancy with roll, accelerate, decelerate, and try not to stall. Any questions?" Bile looks back up in time for a bead of sweat to roll down the curve of his chin and disappear into his stubble, and Twitch forgets what he was about to say.

"I, uh... Shouldn't you be flying with me?"

Bile barks out a laugh, slapping the top of the instrument panel. "Hell no. This is how I learned it. Go get 'em, tiger."

With that, he ducks back out of the co-pilot's side door, lifting his shades to mop at his face with his t-shirt. Christ, that bomber must be killing him. It's easier to breathe with one less body at the controls but not much easier to think, and so Twitch can't help but call out.

"Hey, thanks again. For this. I'm just surprised you're not more worried about the whole 'student pilot' thing."

"Barely." The shirt drops, they lock eyes for a second, and then the aviators are back, Twitch's own face looking nauseous in the reflection. Bile gives him a familiar grin. "It's not my plane."