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comfy-whumpee · 8 months

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Safety Net

Whumptober 1: Safety Net. To catch up on where Northlight has been, check out their masterlist.

Northlight taglist - I'm only going to do this to y'all once this month because otherwise it'd be every day! @bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @whumpywhumper

It was late. They didn't know what time, in the eternal bright light of the lab, but almost everyone had gone. The only people still here were Lachlan, who was somewhere under observation from his near-death, and Northlight, who the others claimed wasn't a person at all.

It was never silent in this place. Almost under the range of hearing was the hum of the many machines that kept it such a pale and lifeless place. The many eyes of Caroline were always open, and there would be listening ears as well. Other things, who knew what, were pointed at Northlight's body at all times, and then there were the locks and bolts keeping them behind all those doors, alongside the simpler straps and buckles pinning them to the examination table.

Surrounding it all was their blood, in some form or another, creating a barrier that its original body could not cross, like two matching poles of a magnet forever pushing each other away.

Northlight closed their eyes to grant meagre protection from the overhead light. Head turned to the side, they listened to the hum of the machines, and the clicking buzz of the bulb. They pondered Lachlan, a brave young man despite his terrible choices. An admirable youth of seriously concerning idiocy. His blood still faintly stained the floor.

If only the damn muzzle would be taken off. Constance Irene must have learned that lesson sometime before now. Someone like Lachlan, who was clearly as good as a cadaver to Caroline’s experiments, might have been swayed if they could just talk to him. But instead, they were forced into wordlessness, and they didn't even know if he had heard them crying as he was killed.

The situation felt helpless. They couldn't speak to change it. No moving, no powers. They had never felt more like the mythical body the cult made them. Even all those years between the pillars, they had the understanding of seasons, of night and day, of weather and nature. This building would be the same on the first day and on their thousandth, except that the people hurting them within it would be aged.

Would Lachlan age, now? The blood was meant to give eternal life, but the boy seemed to already be at such risk. He'd been murdered by his boss and watched by a dozen doctors with no sign of help. Surely he would, at some point, be given an injury that Northlight's blood would fail to heal. Irene was hundreds of years old, but she drank much more than the droplets that made her elixir. Lachlan wouldn't be allowed all that. He was here to be hurt. Sooner or later, he'd be treated the same as they were.

The sound of a distant door opening snapped them out of their reverie. Someone was here. Was it Lachlan, wandering in search of comfort? A cultist hoping for an illegal taste of their blood? Perhaps, they allowed the ridiculous thought briefly, it was a rescue. Perhaps it was a hero, a friend, Dahara, or James, or Archer and his team.

Of course not. Nobody knew they were even in this time, let alone in this place. They were trapped in the belly of a sterile beast with blood flowing in its bricks and mortar.

A tall body came into blurry view at the edge of their vision, and they turned in time to see Kurt pass the observation window and enter. He was wearing a plain blue polo and khaki trousers, no lab coat, and this was definitely not a scheduled experiment. Caroline would be here if it was; she was in charge, even of her older brother.

Kurt hesitated in the doorway, face tight. He, like his sister, like many others, had been given Northlight's blood to drink. He was beholden to it for his health, beholden to keeping Irene happy with his work. An illicit visit was jeopardising that.

After a long moment, he stepped inside properly, closing the door. The room was too large, empty without the students in it, and for a moment he seemed like a dinghy adrift at sea. But he came to port at Northlight's side, hands wringing together briefly before reaching out to Northlight as they often had, brushing hair off their face. They were warm and steady, and Northlight fought not to relax at the touch. These moments had kept them grounded while they were hanging from the chains before the lab, the brief visits from the doctor who checked their eyes and forehead. It was a welcome relief.

“I've paused the cameras,” Kurt whispered. His eyes darted behind his glasses. “Lachlan is asleep. He's fine, he's healing – impossibly fast.”

Northlight closed their eyes briefly, relieved despite knowing the price.

Kurt’s hand shook for a moment as he adjusted their hair again, nudging clumps of it back, near-black with grime. “You cried, earlier. When they… During the experiment.” His face was sallow with fear and pre-emptive regret. He took a breath through his teeth, as if flinching before even saying the words: “If I take off the muzzle…will you tell me why?”

Northlight clenched their jaw for a moment, flexing it in the only minute way they could. They nodded.

Kurt’s exhale was shuddered, but his hands moved steadily again, committed. He unbuckled the straps, letting them fall loose before easing the hard plastic away from Northlight’s jaw. It clung to them, refusing to let go of its deep grooves, until Kurt’s gentle fingers pressed their skin free of it in light motions.

He held it there, an inch from Northlight’s face, as his chest heaved with huge breaths. “Tell me,” he urged them, “tell me now or I'll put it back.”

Northlight looked at him. He hadn’t slept. He wasn’t even in pyjamas. He had been awake since the fatal experiment hours ago. He was clearly suffering for it. Perhaps he was afraid of nightmares. Perhaps he was realising that he lived one.

He was a man who needed to believe, they supposed, meeting his wild stare. A man with a big heart, who could be kind and generous, but had sunk so deeply into this cause that he was scared of it being wrong.

Could they bring a man like this to the surface?

“I…” they began, rasped in a scorch of pain that clamped their face like the muzzle itself. They forced onward, the words more air than voice: “I cried because they killed him. She killed him and gambled his life on bringing him back. I cried because he sat still and welcomed death.”

Wide green eyes move between theirs. “You felt sad?”

“I felt g-grief.” They forced a swallow, wincing. “I have seen – death,” they inhaled fire, exhaled smoke, “but this, m-my body used to make s-slaves out of vict-tims… Hh…” The next word was too faint, and they licked their dry lips. “He,” they said, and felt their lip crack with the shape of it, “can't survive without it no-ow. He'll get sick. Weak and fra-agile.”

The effect wasn’t so instant, from what little they knew, but the words had the desired effect. Kurt, predictably, thought of himself first, not Lachlan. And where Lachlan had been given a mixture that was barely pink, Kurt had drunk almost directly from Northlight's open wound. “Sick?” he echoed. “The point is so you don't get sick. People who take it stay healthy, they don't get sick or die, they heal from injuries.”

“At first,” Northlight agreed, nodding their aching head. It felt like their jaw was about to swell shut but they wanted to keep moving it for as long as they could, and that meant talking. “It helps at first. But it comes with its own price. You trade one disease for another.”

Kurt shook his head, not buying it or not wanting to. “I’ve seen it. Seen it used on people long-term. Lachlan's brother has a heart condition, they both do, we kept them alive. His brother had a heart attack, we cured him of the aftermath. We saved his life. We could save it again if he has another, if we’re fast enough. If we have enough.”

“I don’t need his se-secrets.” They had to stop, coughing a puff of painful air. Their face screamed at them for moving it, and they were pulling on their cuffs with the need to hold and massage its tender sides. “It doesn't m-matter. This isn’t…”

They held such power over this man, who had only ever seen what he expected to see. They had to pull the blindfold free.

“Isn’t an argument,” they conclude once they've caught their breath. “My body, my power. You, others… It is an addiction. Without it you rot. How d-do you think your – lady’s s-skin got so grey? Her eyes reddened?”

Staring openly in horror, Kurt’s mouth found the motion to say, “She’s just that old, that…”

“I'm at least as old as h-her,” they whispered. They sucked in a breath, wanting to deliver this with the certainty of an oracle. “You stole magic that wasn’t yours. Your body will reject it. You can only d-delay death, never defeat it.”

“You defeated it,” Kurt objected, then his voice strengthened as he persuaded himself, “You don’t age, you don’t die – you’re lying.”

“I’m not human,” Northlight reminded him bitterly, “you say so yourself—”

“Don’t we have to try?” The interruption stole Northlight’s breath. Kurt’s face was flushed, as if he were on the verge of tears. “Don’t we have to, if there’s any chance, any way to save lives, to stop suffering, even if it brings you pain and misery—”

“Every moment of every day—”

“—your life is only one, and it's never going to end, this is a tiny fragment of your life and we’re trying to save countless people, so why can’t you accept that your power can be for everyone?”

They took a breath to reply, and the feel of it dragging against the sides of their throat told them that their words were numbered. They could move their mouth at last, but they were parched, and the words wouldn't come out for much longer.

They hadn’t had any water to drink since Kurt himself provided it.

“It won’t be a cure.” They swallowed, then had to cough as the sides of their throat closed together with all the gentleness of gnashing teeth. “I don't disagree. I t-take your point, but it isn’t a cure…”

“We’ll find something to stabilise it,” Kurt replied with conviction. “And even if it’s not forever, it’s less pain, less sudden loss… It’s a safety net. It’s choice.”

Nausea shuddered through them. Having a choice about mortality, whether to live a greying, decaying creature or die when the earth calls you? Who would want to become like Irene? Her body was so frail she went nowhere without her aide. She wore makeup and dark glasses to hide the toll on her body. She stayed secluded, terrified of losing what years she had stolen from their veins. She was a husk.

“You d-didn't choose,” they point out, grimacing. “She chose, she – other people – they choose if-f you can…”

“For now,” Kurt tells them with soothing confidence. “Only while we test it. All of us are happy to give our lives, to make you our work. The public will get the completed version. No more death, illness or injury. Happier people, longer lives, less suffering and pain. The whole world will change.”

“A world built on blood.”

“Blood paid on behalf of the rest of the world, to keep them safe. Is that not worthwhile to you?”

Northlight opened their mouth to reply, but their voice only rasped. They mouthed the disavowal instead. No, because this isn’t for them. This is to control them.

It was a useless loop. Any problems with the panacea would be experimented away. Northlight's suffering was too irrelevant to matter. Their leader, the central driving force of the whole cult, was only a half-dead shade of a human because she hadn't been able to refine the elixir as well as they could now.

Pure belief was not related to reality. It could not be debated, argued or disproven. Northlight could not help someone who would never choose to listen. Their voice had given out, but there was nothing left to say.

After a minute, Kurt sighed. “This isn't why I came in,” he admitted. The feverish shine had gone out of his eyes. He seemed tired. “You aren't human? You really seem… But of course not. Your blood…”

Northlight swallowed, even knowing it would hurt, like nails descending their windpipe. They exhaled into a whisper. “Do I have to be human to feel? I have lived and loved among you either way.”

Kurt’s eyes found theirs. He never lingered on the scar that crossed their face, always looking straight into their eyes when he felt the need. Northlight realised, for perhaps the first time, that despite the doctor’s age and qualifications, he truly was the younger of the two of them.

The stare felt like it was sucking them in, dragging them into Kurt’s own mind, and they looked back with both hands clenched.

When it ended, it was because Kurt looked away. He didn't say anything. He only put the muzzle back on and left Northlight alone.

#cult whump #emotional whump #immortal whump #lab whump #whumptober2023 #no.1 #safety net #death #muzzled #northlight #kurt #my fic

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 73 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 73 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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The Grandalor’s hailing drum called across the water between ships in Kurin’s characteristic hand, “Please don’t force us to harm you further! Turn into the wind and slack sails. Lower the fore sail and hold position with jibs and mizzen. We will come to your aid if you do.”

Kotance stood still, shivering with rage and struggling with the concept of having lost — — — to the Grandalor. He did nothing.

A familiar voice began calling orders and getting the ship organized. Sailors jumped to obey, turning the Longin into the wind and slacking and lowering sails. The injured were now being moved to the safety of the sickbay. Expert lofters and riggers from the rope walk began to survey the extent of the damage and report on what needed doing.

Kotance’s rage and frustration now found a focus. He hit Mord Halyn in the back of the head with the hilt of his long, serrated edge knife. Stunned, Mord fell to his knees and was struck again. As Mord collapsed to the deck, Kotance reversed his knife for a killing stroke when he too was dropped by a blow from behind. Second Officer Marrik, the replacement helmsman, had left his post and wielded a marlin spike like a mallet to the back of Kotance’s head.

Kotance awoke to the shock of cold seawater thrown into his face. Trying to see the source of this affront brought blurry doubled images of a woman leaning over him and another few indistinct people behind her. Gathering his strength, Kotance finally brought the scene before him into focus. Trying to get up brought home the realization that he was bound.

Turning to the woman in front of him, he cried out angrily, “Mistress Daeron! What is the meaning of this outrage! Why am I bound?” Turning his attention to the rest of the group he got a horrible suspicion. “How did we get Kurin back? Why are the fugitives Barad and his woman here and unbound?”

“Barad and Captain Tanlin are our guests for the time being,” said Mistress Daeron icily. “They, along with Master Juris, are supervising our repairs. The Grandalor is also rendering medical aid to the injured. Kurin has come aboard to acquire facts from our crew and officers. She has informed us that she will be staying on board the Grandalor until she can present their case before the Council’s representative. It further appears that there have been illegal actions committed by this ship under your command.

“You have been relieved. As there are no others on board who have a Masters Certificate, the ship is presently under the command of the Combined Council of Masters and Officers.”

The sun climbing up from its low point near the horizon found the Soaring Bird slashing through the waters of the Dragon Sea, driven north by straining canvas. Her crew ate a light meal in preparation for action and went quietly to their battle stations. They knew that they would have contact by mid-morning at the latest.

Sarfin watched in disbelief as the crew unlimbered and tested the catapults. Others went about the dangerous business of hanging and securing a submerged ram at the bow of the longer hull. Huld directed everything quietly, without any excitement. If anything, he seemed a little sad.

The high lookouts began to call “Hai! Sail! Two points starboard!” Soon their calls changed, “Ships! Two, engaged close!”

Sarfin saw Sula expostulating with Huld, apparently urging attack, though he failed to make out her exact words. He did hear Huld though, “Captain are now you. Right are you that wrong much is. For battle prepared are we. Time now to wait for news is.” To his crew he ordered, “Hold in readiness weapons. Alert stay.” A horn picked up his order and turned it into a call that resounded across the ship.

Crew men and women carefully safetied the loaded catapults and other devices and secured their racked ammunition. Weapons were cocked, drawing cables remained attached to the cocking arms and to their winches. The weapon crews remained at their posts, relaxed but ready. This was clearly work that they had done before.

Now that Sarfin could see for himself the ships in question, there was no doubt that the Grandalor and the Longin were tied together. The Longin’s mainsail could never get into the position that it was in unless her rigging was seriously damaged. The damage became even more apparent as the Soaring Bird got closer to the drifting ships and reduced sail to the calls of horns. She turned gently to bring the maximum amount of her deadly firepower into play in an instant. Crew folk calmly removed safeties and checked the arming and aiming of their weapons.

Hailing drums began to pound their talk across the waves. As Sula heard the situation, she felt a shock of disbelief. Her friend, Mord Halyn, relieved as Captain, was now injured and in sickbay. There had been a battle but it was the Longin that attacked the Grandalor in an apparent act of piracy. The Grandalor was now rendering aid to a defeated Longin.

Huld simply looked at Sula with a quizzically raised eyebrow and said, “Attack not now. Information priceless is. Lives saved, yes?”

Sula sighed and replied, “True, Honored One. Let us join them and give assistance.”

Huld issued orders which were relayed by horn call about the ship. Weapons were unloaded and ammunition stowed. Damage control crews began to prepare their equipment to assist the Longin. Sarfin was relieved to see that this, too, was clearly work that they had done before.

Sula turned and said, “It looks like you have your work to do, now, Captain Sarfin. I’m glad that I don’t have to sit in judgment on this mess.”

“I know what you mean, Captain Sula. Still it should prove to be an interesting case,” Sarfin replied thoughtfully. “I have to wonder just how the Grandalor managed to get permission to be here in the Dragon Sea. The Great Sea Dragons don’t like being disturbed all that much.”

So silently that it almost went unnoticed by the lookouts, a huge dark, head rose up by the rail near to Sula. It was black, covered with frills, spines and fins and had massive tentacles about the hugely fanged mouth. Dark Iren regarded them with large, intelligent eyes for a moment before speaking.

“They asked for a safe refuge to assemble their case, Captain Sarfin. We gave it to them.”

At first Sula could only gape. Legend had come to life before her eyes. “You’re Dark Iren!” she managed to exclaim at last.

Tolerantly, the Dragon replied, “Of course I am. You are Sula Corin Dark Dragon. I have been wanting to meet you ever since you renamed the Sun’s Daughter. According to your beliefs you risked much bad luck in doing so. Yours remains the only ship on Sea that is named for one of us.”

Sula shrank a little at that. “If it offends you, we can rename her.”

She was answered by a dragon’s grin, full of huge razor sharp fangs. “Don’t. Given the circumstances and the belief system connected to it, I find it flattering. Your conduct in combat and after is meritorious. You have always rescued friend and foe alike when the battle is done.

“I wish that I did keep the Halls of Dead, beneath the sea. I would give Davaros back to you if I could. He was a good man.”

Sula shook herself and shut her eyes in pain at the mention of her husband’s name. In a small voice, she said, “I never really believed the legend, yet I hunted half around the world hoping to find you so that I could ask.” When she opened her eyes she found genuine concern and sympathy in the monstrous eyes that were looking back at her.

“That is very curious, Sula, because I came here to ask a favor of you.”

“What can I do for you?” Sula asked softly.

“Your help in sorting this all out according to human Laws, both Great and fleet, would be appreciated, Captain Sula.”

Past her awe, she replied, “Of course I will give assistance if Captain Sarfin requests it.”

The Great Sea Dragon responded, “Sula, I want you to do it. Please. There are people involved who are unique on Sea, and they are important to the future of Sea as a place for people to live. Not to mention, my Orcas like some of them very much.”

“What do the Orcas have to do with this?” asked Sula curiously.

Dark Iren eyed her with consideration before answering, “Much. Every ship on Sea has its attendant Orcas even if they are not seen. They tell us all that happens on each ship. They find some lives worthy of celebration and sing them. I do not understand why they sing for one and not another. It is sufficient that they understand their reasons.

“You humans have the Orcas to thank that you survived your first generations here on Sea. They alerted us to your presence and let us know that your kind were dying out. We were able to save your kind because of that timely information. Now, something wholly new is happening. We want it to go on.

“The problem, put simply, is this, human Laws need to be observed for humans. Some have been broken. These matters need redress. You have shown yourself to be capable and fair. I trust you.”

“What is the wholly new thing that is happening?” Sula asked, curiosity piqued.

Dark Iren answered carefully, “Mecat gave Captain Tanlin a Dragon’s Gift but there was an accident. The Sea Hawks Skye and Thunderhead got included in the Gift. Major and unforeseen changes have resulted. The ecological results of all of this need the evaluation that only time can bring.”

“I will help, then, though I believe that the best help that you could get would be the Honored One, Captain Huld.”

The Great Dragon meditated on what she said and then replied thoughtfully, “If the trial were to be over points of honor or ethics, I would ask him. You are more alert to the core legal issues. Assist Kurin if she asks it. Be a friend.”

“That’s the one thing that she can’t do, if she’s to assist me,” Sarfin injected into the conversation. “A judge cannot be a friend, however much he may wish to be one.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 73 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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ask-de-writer · 6 years

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : World of Sea : Part 73