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mcdead11 · 10 months

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Offline Valor: Chapter 4

[Borrower!AU]

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Coming Soon...

Word Count: 5250

Note: there is a brief depiction of mourning described with abstract violence and metaphorical blood

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The breeze from the massive spinning blades high above felt nice against Rowan’s hot skin as he knelt by his satchel. He took inventory of what he still had after his encounter with Chu Chu–unfortunately, a portion of his rations was lost and what little remained was flecked with mold. He was certain he could stomach a bit of it; however, he didn’t want to take the risk of getting sick while in this weakened state. He’d just have to throw it out.

The Crownbreaker sighed as he rested his hands in his lap–his slacks were still damp from the cold soak in Zelly’s shot glass.

He didn’t know what to do next.

Food was the priority. Resources would be plentiful out here given the amount of titans; however, he lacked the equipment to properly ration out whatever food he found. He’d probably only waste whatever he’d take.

A part of him wondered if he should find the nearest Borrower town. He knew Clan Moss and Clan Silt had settled somewhere within the Titanlands, and he knew the Chantry of the Unsleeping Night lay within a two days journey–but to get there was treacherous, and Rowan doubted he could do it alone in his current condition.

Alone.

He set his jaw and studied the backs of his hands–the veins, the bruised knuckles, the faint scars…the memory of his father’s blood.

Rowan was no stranger to death. Mourning was an old friend he’d carried since he was a child. But the gravity of this felt so much deeper. It wasn’t just mourning or loneliness…it was isolation. It felt like someone had taken a knife and carved out every worthwhile thing inside of him, and Rowan could only sit and watch as hope ran free from the yawning hole in his chest.

It was a helpless, bleeding feeling–his hands could do nothing to stop the flow.

He looked up and was reminded of the vastness of the space around him. He was in her kitchen, yet Rowan had never felt this way in a kitchen before. There was no quiet charm nor organized cacophony–it was daunting like a cathedral. The chrome cliffs, the porcelain plains, the towering, lacquered mountains…it was hard not to feel utterly alone in a place that was meant for someone so much grander than himself. This was not a place for a Borrower to stay.

He knew he was free to go whenever he wanted, of course. Zelly had made that clear. But his direction was uncertain, and the emotional bloodloss left him numb and faint.

Rowan set his bag to the side and moved to stand–as he did so, his vision darkened and his knees buckled beneath him. He staggered with a grunt, fighting to blink away the dark splotches of color. After a moment of stillness to catch his breath, he carefully moved towards the bright orange basin that Zelly had filled with fresh water. He slowly crouched and splashed some to his face before taking a sip from cupped hands. The calluses were rough against his peeled, sunburned lips. The water was soothing, but it did little to restore his strength.

As he shook his hands free of droplets, the big, colorful woman slid into view beneath the kitchen’s arched threshold.

Rowan turned to regard Zelly with curiosity. While she had stepped out to give him privacy in his rest, she still occasionally had stuck in her head to quietly check on him. And whether they were of curiosity or concern, her peeks hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Food’s here!” she announced as she struck a dramatic pose with a laugh–a leg kicked up behind her. One arm was raised proudly to hold aloft a large paper bag while the other hand was placed securely beneath its bottom–lest the heavy contents ripped free.

Rowan was caught off guard by her enthusiasm.

“That was…fast.” Rowan blinked. “How did-...?”

The question turned cold on his lips as his curiosity was swallowed up by exhaustion. He didn’t need to know how the food arrived. While he was certain Zelly would tell him how, he doubted he had the energy to wrap his head around the magical logistics. The most important thing he needed to worry about was staying conscious and not imposing upon his titanic hostess.

Perhaps not having heard the question, she dropped her foot back down and crossed the monolithic distance between them with ease. Rowan was still getting used to feeling the presence of a titan moving so close. It was a bit mesmerizing–if not terrifying–to see such a colossal creature move with such casual, immense speed. A single stride could outrun the fastest calvary.

Her excitement mellowed out as she approached the counter and stopped within arm’s reach. Whether conscious of it or not, she’d done so before as well–it put her close, but not in a way that was suffocating. After setting the church-sized paper bag on the plateau off to the side she squatted down, so her face was on-level with the surface of the counter.

“How are you feeling?” She smiled. Her fingers came up so they curled over and rested on the cliff’s edge.

Rowan couldn’t answer that honestly.

“I fare,” Rowan lied as he readjusted his pancho slightly. He made a mental note that he’d need to stitch a new shirt later. Perhaps she had some scraps of cloth he could use? “I appreciate your efforts, Miss Zelly…this is all much more than I could ever ask for.”

Zelly chuckled. “It’s not much, ‘just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’ve treated patients with heat exhaustion and blood loss before, so I know what to look out for. They just weren’t as, um, short as you. So this is a bit new for me too.”

Rowan snorted. Short. That was a rare thing to be called.

“Well, I find myself in good hands,” Rowan reassured. His voice trailed off as he caught her staring at him, though he couldn’t be certain what those huge brown eyes were studying. Surely she was looking for symptoms, but he couldn’t shake the fact there was a hungry curiosity there.

“So,” Zelly finally broke the silence as she cleared her throat. “That counter probably isn’t all that comfy.”

Rowan furrowed his brow. It had felt fine to him. He had slept on concrete, after all–but even as he opened his mouth to protest, she shook her head.

“Yeah, no, let’s get you moved to somewhere softer so we can eat,” Zelly decided. “Would it be okay if I moved you?”

“Yes, I believe so,” he replied. “But only if that would not be a both-”

“Dude,” she cut him off with a snort and grin. She rolled her eyes and turned one of her hands so it was an extended platform off the edge of the counter. “You weigh like a couple of grapes–it’s not a bother, c’mon.”

While that sort of flippancy might’ve rubbed him the wrong way in the past, now he found it oddly disarming.

Rowan couldn’t remember what he said while he took the first few steps, but after the third or fourth is when he noticed how much his knees tingled. He took that next step, and one of his knees completely gave out from beneath him.

His foot twisted, his vision darkened as he tumbled forward…

…and right off the side of the counter.

Through the miasma of fainting, he could softly make out Zelly’s swearing as the air around him whistled. Through the spots of vision, he made out two hands the size of wagons shooting out for him at terrifying speeds.

Something about that image was enough to trigger his fight or flight, and while his brain couldn’t fully comprehend the columns of flesh and muscle that surrounded him–he fought and kicked against them as they closed in around him…

But when he realized he’d stopped falling, he paused. He slowly came to his senses, he noticed his hands and feet gently sinking against the muscle of Zelly’s fingers. While her skin was soft–almost unnaturally so–against his palms and soles, they kept him secure as he dangled hundreds of leagues in the air. If she hadn’t been fast enough…

He focused instead on the mysterious, sudden smell of berries and not on what would have been a fatal fall.

With fingers as steady as an archer’s, she carefully readjusted them around Rowan until he was gently guided down into her cupped hands. He gazed up at her with wide eyes, his chest heaving with adrenaline-rich breath. The muscles in her palm were warm against his bare back and the sweet smell overwhelmed him. Rowan swallowed and fought the urge to dig his fingers into her palm.

The titan stared back at him through disheveled pink hair that fell like rosy vines before her face. Her lips slightly parted as she panted as well.

She looked just as scared as he was.

Zelly studied him for a moment long before sighing with relief–it gently rolled over him like a summer’s breeze.

“You okay?” she asked with a surprisingly tender amount of gentleness.

“Y-Yes…thank you.” Rowan had to force himself to relax, but he managed a nervous chuckle. “You have quick hands–steady too. You really are a master physician, aren’t you?”

“Something like that, but let’s not make a habit out of this,” Zelly quipped. After a moment more of catching their breath, she finally rose to her full height.

“Normally, I don’t eat in the kitchen.” She lowered him to just beneath the sternum. “How ‘bout we move to the living room? Couch’ll be way softer than the counter.”

While Rowan found the room’s name a bit peculiar, nothing seemed untoward about the suggestion. He shrugged. “Whatever works best for you.”

With a nod, she shifted him to one hand and grabbed the bag’s handles as she made their way out. As she walked, she made sure to tilt her hand slightly towards her–so in the event of him passing out, he’d fall against her instead of plummeting towards the floor. He was grateful for that thoughtfulness, since his vertigo as she walked was quite real. Every footstep of hers he could feel through her hand–in a way it felt like he was a titan, walking with such casual ease through the towering halls of giants. He couldn’t even begin to process if he’d been born in such a world.

Zelly took a left into what Rowan assumed was the “living room” (though he still could not be sure why it was called that.) Thankfully it was much smaller and more intimate compared to the grandeur of the kitchen. Three of the walls formed the beginnings of a square, while the fourth bowed outwards into three additional walls–all lined with windows. Light poured in through partially drawn, slightly transparent curtains which billowed with the breeze from the partially open window. Rowan could hear the laughter of titan children playing outside. In front of the window was a long couch and armchair that was positioned off in the corner. A low, glass-top table stretched in front of the couch.

“Alright, how are we gonna do this?” Zelly murmured–more to herself than to Rowan. First, she set the bag down on the table before moving to sit on one end of the vast couch. She leaned across and gently tilted her hand so Rowan could step down onto the opposite end. As he gingerly placed a foot down on the immense cushion, he noted how strange the fabric felt against his skin and how it sank slightly as he put his weight down. Rowan eased himself down into a sitting position, and watched as her massive fingers pulled away. He doubted he’d ever get used to interactions like this.

“There.” She pulled herself back and crossed one leg beneath her. “Better?”

“Much better,” Rowan admitted.

“Oh! Onnnnnne more thing.” Zelly pursed her lips and pulled out the magical rectangle from her short’s pocket. She reached back over and placed the slab behind him, so that the colorful side was facing up.

“Perfect,” Zelly beamed as she sat up. “That way I don’t accidentally sit on you! I’ll notice my phone case. Plus, it kinda serves as a bit of a backrest!”

He looked back over his shoulder to examine the device. It wasn’t a perfect rectangle, as it did have a soft plastic pink shell that gave it a bit of shape along its length. The top was covered with a mosaic of stickers of all shapes and sizes: some were stylized designs of things Rowan recognized like sparkling fruit or animals; others were of more wild designs reminiscent of the eclectic Faofolk and their art–robots, beasts, creatures with strange edges and exaggerated proportions.

“I appreciate your concern, thank you.” Rowan rested his elbows on the rubbery shell. She flashed a smile, then began pulling out styrofoam containers out of the bag. He’d seen plenty of containers of similar kind in Port Cattail. They made a rather unpleasant squeaking noise as the containers rubbed up against one another.

“So, this is…Greek?” the Crownbreaker asked in an attempt to start some sort of conversation that wasn’t centered around him.

“Yup!” Zelly chirped. “Greek food is simple, healthy, and it has a nice flavor that’s never too much–ya know? So I figured it’d be an okay meal for us to share…”

She paused, then gave him a serious look–Rowan had seen Lea give it to him on more than a few occasions, complete with the raised eyebrow and insistent frown. “And if there’s anything you don’t like, I won’t be offended. I ordered plenty just in case, so you just eat whatever tastes good.”

Her tone was surprising, yet so familiar. Despite their vast differences, it perplexed Rowan to see Zelly treat him so…normal. Just like a Borrower woman would if she had a guest of equal size at the dinner table.

“I will, thank you.” Rowan nodded, still lost in thought. After a bit more rearranging, Zelly set the emptied bag on the floor and placed a hand on one of the containers.

“So, I have two options for gyros: lamb and falafel.” Seeing Rowan’s blank stare, she promptly smacked the palm of her free hand to her forehead. “RIGHT, you don’t know what those are. Okay, so, gyros have lettuce, tomatoes, onion, and are served on this sorta…soft, bready stuff. It comes with a special Greek sauce that is creamy and has a nice zest to it. Lamb is a type of meat, and falafel is made of fried chickpeas which are-”

She scrunched up her face as her voice trailed off. “...actually, I don’t know what chickpeas are. But! It’s vegetarian, so no meat if you have any dietary restrictions.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“I do love falafel,” Zelly admitted with a shrug. “But the lamb from this place is to die for–so I’d honestly recommend that, if it’s your first time. But you’re welcome to try some falafel later if you’d like!”

“I will take your word for it,” Rowan hummed. “Lamb it is.”

Zelly grinned from ear to ear as she picked up one of the containers with one hand and set it in the cushion between the two of them. Carefully she opened up the styrofoam container to reveal a steaming hill of vibrant veggies of red and green dotted with white squared chunks the size of his fist, overlayed with slabs of dark brown meat with the blackened edges and a drizzle of creamy sauce speckled with black. The aroma was breathtaking, and the sheer quantity was…overwhelming. It was hard to imagine he was worthy of such a feast. And to think this might be a single meal for a titan like Zelly…

Rowan’s eyes widened and his stomach roared–hunger gripped his insides with dull teeth and growled eagerly.

“I-Impressive!” he noted, trying to hide the fact he was beginning to salivate and the welling guilt that accompanied it. “I can see why you picked this.”

Zelly looked rather proud of herself at the praise. She hummed a little laugh and bounced with excitement. She reached over towards the side of the container nearest to Rowan and broke down the styrofoam wall so the edge of the container lay flat against the cushion…Spirits, there was more food in the box? The “hill” laid on a beige, toasted material that Rowan really couldn’t identify. Was that the supposed bread that she mentioned before? But she didn’t stop there. Zelly ripped off an edge of styrofoam and offered it to Rowan between a pinched thumb and finger.

“Sorry I can’t getchu, like…an actual plate,” she apologized with a chuckle when she noticed his quizzical look. “I hope this’ll work?”

Rowan couldn’t help but chuckle at both her thoughtfulness and creativity. He accepted the impromptu plate and stood up. “This works just fine, thank you.”

“I just realized you don’t have utensils,” she hissed, then flashed an apologetic look. “Um…I can try to look to see if I can find something? Maybe like a toothpick, or-”

Rowan held up a hand and tried not to laugh. “Tis fine, really. You act as though I have never had to eat with my hands before.”

Zelly blinked in surprise. “A-Ah! Cool, right–my bad, um…here, let’s do this…”

She rummaged around in the bag then withdrew a pair of titan-sized utensils wrapped in plastic. She tore off the utensil’s sheath then divided up a sizable portion from the hill. “There. That’ll get you started. Just lemme know if you need any more, okay?”

Rowan nodded, though he had somewhat tuned out what she was saying. His stomach screamed… When was the last time he ate? He couldn’t recall. With a bit of effort, he rose and slowly approached the intoxicating vista. The styrofoam felt odd beneath his feet as he stepped up to awkwardly gather up a bit of portion for his meal… He did somewhat wish he had his dagger to spear his food, but he wasn’t above getting his hands messy. He tore off a chunk of meat ladened with sauce, grabbed a bit of the lettuce which gave a satisfying crunch as he tore it free, and one of the hand-sized chunks of white vegetable–though as he brought it close, he was a bit overwhelmed by its particular scent.

“Oh grab a bit of the pita too!” Zelly suggested excitedly. Rowan gave her a look, which prompted her to point towards the bready layer beneath. “That stuff! That’s what really makes a gyro a gyro. Just wrap it all up in that and take a bite!”

When in Fao, do as the Faofolk do, Rowan thought as he reached down and peeled off a chunk of the soft pita. There was a part of him that wanted to just scarf down what he had, but there was a certain respect he wished to show towards his hostess’ recommendations. Taking his food back towards the phone case, he sat down next to it and awkwardly placed the acquired ingredients onto the pita then wrapped it up as best as he could. He held it up for confirmation: “Like this?”

Zelly nodded eagerly.

Rowan’s heart raced as he finally took a bite.

The taste made him…well, melt, for lack of a better term. His whole body shivered as he savored seasoning of the meat and the way the pita soaked up the sauce. The crispness of the lettuce and the odd-smelling white vegetable added not only brilliant texture, but a zip that he wasn’t quite expecting.

It was a single bite, but Rowan couldn’t hold back after that. He scarfed down the rest, and had to remind himself to breathe. His unbridled ravenousness beckoned a wave of guilt.

He nearly jumped when he noticed Zelly still looking at him expectantly.

“Welllllll?” She grinned.

“Very good.” His overwhelming exuberance left him sheepish, but Spirits Around he couldn’t help himself.

“GOOD!!!”

As starving as he was, Rowan had to restrain from scrambling up to grab more–he knew his stomach had shrunken within the last few days, so he’d need to pace himself. He licked the sauce off his fingers and still tasted the lingering lamb on his lips.

“I…did promise you some answers.” He set the styrofoam plate to the side. “I-”

Rowan jumped as Zelly clapped eagerly and leaned forward over the mountain of good, her eyes wide with excitement. “OKAY YES, please! What are Borrowers? Where do you come from, why are you called that? You mentioned royalty, so are there, like, tiny monarchies and governments and stuff? What are your people like? Why haven’t I noticed you before? How are there-”

Zelly paused as she studied Rowan, then excitement melted to embarrassment as she pulled back suddenly and held up her hands.

“S-Sorry, I got excited. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, I just…sorry.”

It dawned on him how naked he felt without his daggers–not that he believed he needed them nor that Zelly had done anything beyond startle him, but they were comforting to have. He did however have his cloak–and that was enough to ground him for a bit. He reached up and rubbed a thumb across the familiar fabric and sighed through his nostrils. As his heart still raced at the volume of her outburst, he cleared his throat and raised a hand of reassurance.

“I-I understand. This is all brand new to you, and I do want to repay your generosity somehow–even if it is merely satisfying curiosity.”

The question was, how much should he divulge? He thought of Lazuli’s calculating look and the cautioning words of his uncle Oleander… Both had prompted him to exercise caution in the past, yet neither were here now to make sure the Crownbreaker didn’t blunder.

Rowan had to be incredibly careful with his words.

“Okay, cool.” Zelly seemed to relax a bit, though the awkwardness lingered. She picked up her fork and stabbed the top of the mountain of veggies and meat to gather up a bite. “So, like…let’s just start with Borrower. What…are you, exactly? Just like tiny people? Or are you Fairies?”

“Not fairies,” Rowan shook his head. Fairies weren’t real, though Pixies had been; they’d been extinct for some time now, however, and without knowing if Zelly was aware of their atrocities he held his tongue. “You say ‘tiny people,’ but…to me, we are just people…because to us, it is the titans who are giants. So I confess, I’m not quite sure how to properly explain it.”

Zelly excavated a section of the hill, then took a thoughtful bite. That bite was…so much compared to his. The phrase I am so hungry I could eat a lizard was probably quite literal for titans. Rowan tried focusing on her face, and not how the fork passed her lips.

“Huh…” She slowly nodded as she chewed. She covered up her mouth with her free hand. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

Then, after she swallowed, she asked: “Okay, so…magic. Is that a thing?”

“Yes, magic is real.” Rowan felt safe to confirm that–it wasn’t an uncommon thing after all.

“And you guys are…around town? Or outside of Santa Almita?”

“We call your ‘town’ the Titanlands,” Rowan explained. “Anything within what you call ‘Santa Almita’ or outside of it that is occupied by Borrowers is called ‘the Tens.’ So…yes, we are around.”

“The Tens…got it,” Zelly noted. “So how come I’ve never seen you before, though? There have to have been times I would’ve noticed tiny people.”

Rowan went to answer, but found he lacked the words. He furrowed his brow, recollecting a time when he had listened to Lazuli pontificate by candlelight as the two of them sat alone in their study while the princeps penned the Pax Minimus. There WAS a reason for that, and Rowan knew it…but the reason was so foggy in his mind.

“I cannot say,” he admitted, more perplexed than anything. “All I know is that something protects my kind from being seen.”

“So…some kinda magic?” Zelly ventured

“Some kinda magic,” Rowan echoed, though the word ‘kinda’ felt odd in his mouth.

“And why are you called Borrowers?” She frowned. “Do you…borrow stuff?”

Rowan huffed–he didn’t know the answer to that either. “I am not quite sure. I know there are different scholars and priests who have theories about why we are called that, and how it comes from some…’cycle of Borrowing’...but I confess, I do not know. Some call titans Givers, so maybe it has something to do with that?”

Rowan studied Zelly’s face, then sighed. “I apologize, I know this does not really give you any of the answers you were looking for…”

“No, it’s okay!” Zelly replied quickly. “It’s actually kinda nice knowing that you don’t have all the answers either–is that weird?”

“I guess not,” Rowan hummed. He paused, then added: “You seem to be taking all of this considerably well…”

Zelly raised her eyebrows and scoffed. “Oh no dude, this is nuts–I literally can’t believe any of this is happening.” While not the answer he’d been expecting, the frankness was rather refreshing–the titan wasn’t perfect either.

“Not in, like…a bad way,” she clarified quickly as if detecting some sort of worry. “Just in a I don’t know how anyone is supposed to react, so I’m just trying my best sort of a way.”

“I understand,” he reassured.

“I’m just making sure you’re okay,” Zelly continued. “And after you’re feeling better, I can always help take you wherever you need to go.”

She smiled as she set her fork aside to gather up the slightly decreased hill of veggies and meat so she could wrap it up in the pita–much like Rowan had before–and added: “Just relax, and rest–you’re safe with me. ”

He was puzzled by the sentiment, though he didn’t try and brush it off. The notion was charming, but it did little to absolve his grief—he knew he needed to be on the road as soon as possible, lest he overstayed his welcome. Still, for the moment Rowan was willing to put his trust in Zelly.

“Thank you again, Zelly,” he hummed. “Do you mind if I have seconds?”

Through the chewing of her gargantuan bite of gyro, she replied with a muffled go for it.

—

After a few minutes of eating in relative silence, the anxiety got to be a bit too much–so Zelly quietly excused herself and hurried off to her room.

Fingers flew across the keyboard as she messaged her manager Emmett in order to get the next few days cleared. She needed that much time off at least, if Rowan truly had heat exhaustion, just to make sure he’d be okay. The next few days had been lined up with quite a bit: a collab with Team CaliBurn, the meeting with Tanma’s friend about the Vtuber avatar commission, and several other streams she’d planned for weeks in advance. All of that seemed so miniscule now compared to the weight of responsibility she now felt.

It made her sick, really.

Rowan seemed to be doing well enough. He had enough strength to talk and move–though the fact he nearly blacked out and fell off the counter was a bit disconcerting. Not to mention the way he’d scarfed down his food too…

Still, he seemed to be doing better. He wasn’t much of a talker–something Zelly couldn’t really relate to–but she didn’t want to overwhelm him with questions, no matter how much her curiosity begged her. She knew how much she could be for people her size and taller, she could only imagine what it was like for someone smaller.

After she sent the last of the messages to Emmett, she leaned back in her chair…and like a magnet, her eyes fell on the black and red USB sitting on the corner of her desk. Her once bubbling anxiety now burned like bile in her throat. She carefully reached over and picked up the thumb drive like a vivisected organ and turned it over carefully. The once bright initials written in silver Sharpie were mostly faded now–either from the oils in her fingers or just by her idly rubbing it in contemplation. It felt sacrilege that she’d treated one of her only gifts left from Oakley with such thoughtlessness.

Was Zelly just going to screw up Rowan too?

She chewed her lip as she leaned back in her chair. Her eyes riveted on the Discord chat, waiting for her manager’s reply–Oakley’s old USB turning over and over again in her fingers. She prayed Emmett would be understanding; she knew how stressful it might be to have to reschedule so much at the last minute.

i’ll see what i can do, came Emmett’s reply. She felt her shoulders relax a bit, but the weight in her chest didn’t lighten. A second message: everything ok?

There was no way she could answer that honestly. This was CRAZY and Zelly still wasn’t 100% sure if she was dreaming or sober. Finding a tiny man bleeding in her driveway who’d nearly been eaten by her neighbor’s cat was not on her 2023 bingo card.

But resisting the impulsive honesty, she simply replied: yea IRL stuff came up // needing a few days off

She sent the message then leaned back on her chair to study the ceiling. She did some quick mental math in an attempt to figure out a timeline for Rowan’s recovery…

Heat exhaustion recovery took about 48 hours at a max, but Zelly wasn’t quite sure if Borrower physiology changed things… Were they technically magical? Would that play into anything? Would recovery differ because he is so much smaller and closer to the ground?

Then there was the chest wound. She’d cleaned it as best as she could, but there was only so much she could do at her size. There was a possibility of infection, so she’d just have to wait and see…depending on how long Rowan would decide to stick around, that is. He could leave in the middle of the night, for all she knew—and it wasn’t like she was going to lock the windows and force him to stay.

As she planned she idly spun in her chair, she noticed a bit of color out in the driveway that hadn’t been there a few minutes earlier when she stepped into her room.

Zelly frowned. She stood up and made her way over to the window to get a better look. Parked behind her car was a familiar, dark hatchback.

It was Nikol’s car–but she was nowhere to be seen.

Zelly couldn’t breathe. When had Nikol pulled in? She went for her phone to check her messages, then realized Rowan had it. Before she had any time to question further, she heard the front door open downstairs and Nikol’s voice calling out through the halls: “Hey babe! I got somethin’ for you!”

Horror set in and Zelly couldn’t hold back her scream.

She bolted out of her room as fast as she could–only stopping briefly as she ran right into her computer chair. With a swear and shove, she pushed past it and practically threw herself down the steps as she ran. Panic clouded all sensibility as only one thought was able to form:

The front door was right next to the living room, which was exactly where she had left Rowan.

#g/t #g/t writing

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mcdead11 · 1 year

Text

This story was made in collaboration with @mcdead11 ages ago—in September of 2021, actually! (Holy crap it feels so much shorter than that.) I wrote it while McDead drew a picture based on the original premise we were working off of that will be included and linked to at the very bottom. (It's NSFW, just to warn you, but the story itself is fairly tame.) Hope y'all enjoy it!

The pound of feet upon the earth. The echo of breath across the landscape. The sting of sweat in her eyes.

She had to get away. Far, far away.

Blood rushed through her muscles like a deluge, pushing her forward while kicking up debris in her wake. She was making rapid progress, but it felt like she still had an eternity in front of her before she reached the desert’s heart.

But she didn’t have an eternity to get there!

As one foot came down upon the dry and cracked earth, she put every ounce of effort into that leg and the next moment she was launching herself through the air with a scream. She soared many meters forward before landing with a grunt and a clumsy crash, the ground shattering beneath her. There was something comforting about how firm the pieces of the ground beneath her feet were; they broke, yes, but didn’t disintegrate completely like drywall or wood.

She hauled herself to her feet and stood still for a long moment as her head swam. She felt unbelievably heavy, and the shifting rubble beneath her didn’t help. Taking slow, deep breaths the nine-foot-tall woman stepped forward tentatively until she was on firmer earth. There she paused once more, feeling sweat run down her face and body. She ran a hand through her long, dark hair before sighing and continuing onward, working her way to a run before taking another great leap with another scream of excitement and regret.

Her journey continued like this for a long, miserable week. The sun scorched so fiercely at the height of the day’s heat that she could see steam rising from her skin in faint wisps, and the nights froze so bitingly that frost crawled across her body whenever she dared to rest for even a moment before flaking and splintering off with the most minor of movements. Oddly enough, she never felt hungry or thirsty, but nevertheless, she felt a hollowness growing inside of her as the days went past… as though her body needed to be filled with something, though she didn’t know what that something was.

As time went by and she continued running and leaping deeper and deeper into the wasteland, her discomfort grew. Her muscles ached terribly, and the rare moments when she allowed herself some rest gave little relief from it. It became harder, almost painful, to launch herself into the air—but when she did manage such a feat, she felt like she was going farther than the last time, and the landings became marginally less clumsy. Her skin felt dry, and tight over her muscles and bones.

The hard-packed earth gradually gave way to softer, looser sand. For the first time since she’d begun her flight into the desert, she felt something akin to elation. She was almost there! Her family, friends, and beloved were almost safe! She let out a half-laugh, bounding mightily over the swelling dunes and shattering islands of exposed rock. It became more and more difficult to keep her footing, slipping and sliding but never stopping. She crawled for what had to be miles without a care, just wanting to get as far as she could.

Eventually, she stopped in the middle of a vast expanse—so deep was she now that there were no mountains in sight. After a full week of near-constant traveling, she was left in a paradox of desires. Her brain was exhausted and told her to lie down and truly sleep after so long going without; but at the same time she was excited, her heart an engine that was screaming at her, Go! Go! Go! On her hands and knees at the desert’s heart, she remained for a long time, debating between the two emotions while staring at the ground. Finally, she made up her mind.

The giantess let out a long sigh that made a shallow dent in the sand and slowly raised a hand high into the air. Clenching it into a tight fist, she brought it crashing down onto the ground, spraying sand on her own face and hair. She growled as sand got in her eye but didn’t make any effort to remove it. She raised up her other hand in a fist and brought that down in a hammer blow that sprayed even more sand. She felt a spasming in her chest, and her shoulders shook before a thunderous laugh erupted from her lips. She hauled herself up onto her knees, arms raised high, then slammed them back down with a gleeful roar. There was a great rush of wind from the epicenter of her strike, a ring of dunes marking the edges of her crater. Panting, she staggered to her feet; the sand slipped beneath her, sending her stumbling until she fell onto her back with a crash. Still laughing, she rose up and slammed a foot down firmly when she almost lost her balance again. She lumbered forward, one booming step at a time; shockwaves that send her heart fluttering ran up her body with each footfall. Bouncing on her toes, she took several quick steps forward and kicked her foot through the sea of sand, sending up a great spray that seemed to touch the heavens. She bent down low, sweeping a hand through a mound beside her; her hand encountered some slight resistance, but with a quick jerk she launched a chunk of stone half her size into the distance.

She was stunned. She was impressed and terrified by this. Was this what she was capable of now? No, it wasn’t. She was barely trying. If she actually put effort into it… she shuddered, glad she’d left home when she did. She could only imagine the devastation she’d have left it behind had she remained any longer. One house demolished is better than a whole city ruined.

When she regained her wits, the titan continued her dance of desolation, stomping and jumping and kicking and pounding the ground, each time with more and more force behind it. Fire coursed through her veins and her muscles sang in joy despite the omnipresent aching. Before long she found herself amidst a great cloud of sand that only grew whenever it began to settle.

Before she knew it, the sun was setting. Seeing this, the giantess threw herself to the ground with a boom and rolled, stretching her arms and legs out and arching her back. With a long growl that swelled into a peal of thunder, she let herself fall back down and relax. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically and sweat soaked the sand beneath her. The day’s heat quickly turned to the night’s cold, and she felt frost spreading across her skin. Sighing, she swept her arms through the sand, piling what had to be over a ton on top of herself like a blanket. Oddly enough, it was actually quite comfortable.

She lay there for a long while, watching the sky above go from the fiery hues of twilight to the greys dusk and finally the sparkling darkness of night. She smiled softly and—finally content that nobody would be hurt by her new superhuman state—she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Since that day, her new life was fairly uneventful. Still, everything was always aching, her skin always felt so terribly tight, and she always felt slow and weighed down. Fortunately, it didn’t take her long to get used to these inconveniences, unpleasant as they may have been. It helped that she never seemed to suffer from hunger or thirst. She spent her days wandering the desert’s heart, dancing to get some use out of the seemingly limitless energy her body held. Occasionally she’d find something mildly interesting in her wanderings or after clearing away enough sand in her dancing, such as pieces of a statue or other ruin or some naturally-formed glass or pretty stone; she’d try to move these somewhere else so she could keep her new treasure in one place, but more often than not they broke or turned to dust under her touch. Eventually, she gave up on keeping these things and just left them where she found them—they’d probably be destroyed in her dancing at some point down the line anyway.

Was she lonely? Of course! She abandoned her loved ones back home to protect them, not because she wanted to. Many times she was struck with bouts of melancholy and wished that she could go back but knew the risk of doing that was too great to take. To cheer herself up, she often imagined that everyone back home was living perfect lives, all their hopes and dreams realized to the greatest extent. A small part of her once contemplated carving a message into a rock with her fingernail—she thought they could probably cut diamonds, which was surreal to think about—and then try throwing it back home. Obviously, an idea like that was absolutely absurd and potentially dangerous, but it was the only way she thought she could just reconnect with them.

One morning she lay curled up on the ground, the blanket of sand half-ruined by her tossing and turning. In these early hours the aching and tightness and heaviness were at their least, and she savored the relief. She nuzzled her cheek into the ground with a smile, the sensation more soft than gritty. The rising sun was warm on her back. Humming low, she squirmed up to a dune to use as a pillow, which her head landed on with a great thump.

Suddenly, there was a sting in the giantess’s toes. With a cry she bolted upright, drawing her legs close to her and looking around. She blinked hard when she saw the bright disk of the rising sun, momentarily blinded as tears welled in her eyes. Sand fell from her hair and body with her movements. She wondered what had just stung her. In all her time living in the desert’s heart, she couldn’t recall ever seeing any living creatures other than herself, not even stinging bugs or biting snakes, which she thought she’d have seen by now!

She rubbed her eyes free of tears with the heels of her palms. Glancing around for the source of the sting, she jumped when several loud pops! sounded, immediately preceding several more brief-but-painful stings in the giantess’s toes and soles, thinking whatever was doing it must’ve scurried off. She winced and moved backward, looking down at her feet.

At first, she thought it was just a swarm of green and brown beetles—scarabs? She didn’t know if any of those could bite… Leaning forward, she saw one of the little “beetles” let off a small flash of light accompanied by a pop! and a sting on her big toe.

When realization dawned on her, her blood ran cold in spite of the day’s swelling heat. Every muscle in her body tensed; the hand she was leaning on dug into the earth, and she felt a shockwave run down her arm that cracked the rock beneath it.

Those were tanks. Tanks with people in them.

People she’d only been twice the size of when she left.

Slowly, she pushed herself away from the platoon, drawing her knees to her chest when she felt she was far enough away. (Not for her own safety—as much as the rounds stung, it didn’t look like they were actually doing any damage to her—but for all of theirs.) She watched anxiously as the tanks slowly made their way toward her.

Her whole body shuddered, and the sands around her shifted and hissed in turn.

As the tanks closed the distance between her and them, she swallowed and said in a mighty gale-voice that brought the whole platoon to a halt:

“What do you want?”

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