#PIDGE DAY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soulreapin · 3 months

Text

happy valentine’s day klancers here’s our favorite tragedy getting to be happy for once. xoxo soul

—

Keith wakes up to the sharp, pungent smell of roses in his nose.

That’s not always as alarming as it is right now, sometimes Lance gets flowers from the farmer’s market and sets them in delicate clear vases all over their apartment (Keith will always hate the smell of daffodils), but the farmer’s market hadn’t been in town for a number of weeks.

He sits up in bed, pushing the red flannel comforter down from where it was safely tucked up underneath his chin and looks around wildly. Their comfortable bedroom has a vase of red roses on every surface, even on the vanity tucked in the crook between the wall and the door of their ensuite bathroom.

They look fresh, vibrant and sweet in the low light.

He glances to his side and Lance’s side of the bed is noticeably empty. That should’ve been clue number one that something was up, not the smell of roses, but apparently it hadn’t been long enough since his time in the desert that waking up with his arms wrapped around himself and his knees tucked into the crook of his chin wasn’t considered abnormal yet.

A splay of his palm against the sheets tells him Lance has been up for some time. Something ugly and foreign squeezes itself around his heart, but Keith, under any circumstance, does not give himself time to figure out what it is and slides out of bed, stepping into his red lion slippers and following the apparent trail of red rose petals on their usually pristine wooden floor.

His slippers scuff on the wood as Keith trails down the short hallway into their living room, and if he thought their bedroom was bad, this is catastrophic. Floral arrangements sit large and pretty on their dining table, on their kitchen counters, on the coffee table where instead of fake fruit they set their feet in the middle.

Varying shades of red and pink and white flourish in the home Keith worked so hard to build for him and Lance, the life they hold on to with tight grips and locked elbows decorated with pretty scalloped petals and white lace keeping them all standing at attention.

On the center of their dining room table, where there are pencil marks thoroughly worn into the wood from hours doing homework for Lance to get his masters, are several fake candles set up around a red envelope, and from this distance Keith can’t tell if it’s sealed with wax or not, but he’d bet his braid that it was.

As Keith is walking over to the envelope, he panics. “What did I forget? Our anniversary isn’t until October, his birthday is in July, it’s February—oh. It’s February.”

He reaches the letter at the same time he has the realization. Today is February 14th, it’s Valentine’s Day, and Keith did not forget. There are reservations in his name tonight for their favorite mexican restaurant, the one Lance picked himself because it tasted the most like home, and he’s got a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a hand-written card tucked into the back of their closet because he knows Lance doesn’t look back there.

So he picks up the envelope with steady fingers, pops open the definite wax seal and before he can judge it, presses a kiss to the cold wax with the reminder that Lance’s careful hands had poured and pressed it into a heart shape, and slides a thin, white paper card out of the envelope.

In Lance’s scraggly, all-caps looking handwriting, he’s written, ‘good morning, keithy cat! happy valentines day. i know you freaked this morning when you saw all the flowers. mad i missed it. anyways i didn’t have to go into work like you were thinking. you’re going looking for me but because im SO GRACIOUS and an AMAZING HUSBAND ill give you your first one free, go down to nightsky florals. love, loverboy,’

Despite it all, it brings a small smile to Keith’s face. He folds the note delicately and tucks it back into the envelope, deciding to leave the battery-powered candles running.

“Damn you, Lance,” Keith mutters, but trudges back to their room and changes into simple, loose-fitting Lucky jeans and a red sweater. ‘Tis the season, and all that.

–

A small bell rings over Keith’s head as he pushes the door open to Night Sky florals. Shiro must have installed that after he went off to college, but the rest of the shop was still the same. Wooden bins of flowers sit on racks going all the way up to the ceiling, there are displays in the center with red roses and assorted bouquets on them, and greenery climbs up the sides of the racks and up the counter near the back of the room.

It’s light and homey. Keith spent a lot of time in Night Sky florals, sitting behind the counter and doing his AP Lit homework, staring daggers at To Kill a Mockingbird and scribbling down Quizlet-approved bullshit answers.

Now, Shiro is sitting on a stool behind the counter, assembling a small array of red roses, baby’s breath, and camelias. He looks up and sees Keith standing in the doorway, “Hey, kid!”

“Hi, Shiro,” Keith grumbles, smiling despite himself, skirting around the center displays to get to the counter, “How’ve you been?”

“You were at my house for dinner a week ago.” Shiro stands up and comes out from behind the counter to wrap Keith in a hug that basically breaks every rib in his body and eliminates a need for a chiropractor. “I think you know how I’ve been.”

Keith shrugs in his hold and hugs him back, “I don’t know, it might have changed in the week I haven’t seen you. Forgive me for caring about my brother.”

After a few more bone-crushing seconds, Keith is let go and allowed to expand his lungs to full capacity again. Shiro tosses over his shoulder as he turns away, “Denied. Back to the desert with you, creature.”

“You’re so odd,” Keith shakes his head and picks at a piece of stray fuzz on the sleeve of his sweater, “I was here for something. Lance sent me here. Is there something here for me?”

Shiro’s face lights up and he disappears off into the back. “He stopped by this morning! This is so cute, Keith I almost kind of hate it, I’m so glad you guys are happy together—aha! Found you, fucker.”

“I’m almost a little nervous about it,” he admits, “Like, he’s doing this for me, what if dinner and chocolates and a card isn’t enough?”

Something clatters to the ground in the back and Shiro reappears holding another red envelope with a pressed wax seal and a small, thin piece of paper. “Keith, I promise you, if you got him a pair of socks and a bag of cherry cordial Hershey’s Kisses, he’d love you forever.”

He accepts the letter and the small piece of paper, his face screwed up, “Those are absolutely disgusting, they taste like cough syrup. The peppermint ones are so much better.”

“Cough syrup aside,” Shiro comments, shaking his head like he can’t believe Keith has a correct opinion, “You know what I meant. He’s happy just having you.”

Keith sighs, a little dejectedly, and slides his thumbnail beneath the wax circle.

It reads, ‘congrats, keefers, you made it! this is the place we met for the first time. i bet you remember it. i came in to get funeral flowers for hunks robot and you insulted me various times all while giving me the most beautiful flowers i had ever seen. i thought you were beautiful too with your shitty ponytail and your silly looking apron. you had a pansy tucked into the pocket i think. ‘

“It was a rose.” Keith says, out loud, without even meaning to.

Shiro glances up from his bouquet in progress, “Congratulations?”

“No, um,” Suddenly embarrassed, Keith scratches the back of his neck, “The day I met Lance here, I had a red rose tucked into my apron. He said it was a pansy.”

“Are you blushing?” Shiro exclaims.

“Shut up, Shiro, go back to your flowers. In the time you’ve spent insulting me three more people have either died or gotten engaged and you are holding them back from their floral arrangements,” Keith sasses, looking back down at the letter.

‘whatever it was i thought it was really cute. im glad we ran into each other that day. rip hunk but if his robot hadn’t died i wouldnt have married this beefcake so who really won here (me its me i won). anyways. the little white paper shiro should’ve handed you will give you a little clue as to where to go next. love, lancelot.’

He slides the letter back into the envelope and flips the small paper over. On it are two dragons intertwined, one small and red and the other bigger, black, and missing its right wing. Keith knows this image; this image sits squarely over his spine.

“So, where are you off to next?” Shiro asks casually.

Keith glances up at Shiro, missing his right arm, and offers a small smile. “Ocean Waves Tattoo Parlor.”

“That’s right across the street from us–oh, that’s where Lance used to work when you two met, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I’d better be off now. I’ll see you for dinner next Wednesday?” Keith starts to move around the store, picking flowers out of bins and collecting them in his right hand.

“Same day, same time,” Shiro confirms, “Adam’s making pasta salad, I think–what are you doing?”

Keith has gathered a full bundle of red roses, pink carnations, greenery, and forget-me-nots. He drops a handful of cash onto the counter that seems like a vague approximation of what the total should be and waves goodbye, hurrying out of the shop before Shiro can throw his money back at him or realize Keith had probably underpaid.

—

After his brief stop at Night Sky Florals, Keith went to two more places. Ocean Wave Tattoo Parlor, where Lance used to work and coincidentally where he got his back piece done in Lance’s chair, the ice cream shop where they went on their first date to receive another letter from Romelle, and even at the library on the other side of town where Keith had dedicated hours of his life to helping Lance review for a final (that he passed with flying colors).

He ends up at Fortune Coffee House, their favorite spot to grab a drink or a muffin and just eat breakfast together before they go their separate ways. Keith had stopped at home first and dug the card and chocolates out from the back of the closet, since he had a feeling he’d be seeing Lance here, as this was supposedly the last location.

The door creaks closed behind Keith as he steps into the warm air of the coffee shop, a floor-to-ceiling shelving unit cordoning off the counter from the rest of the shop. Fortune Coffee House is decorated in warm shades of brown and cream, reminiscent of Keith’s college days.

“Welcome in–Keith Akira Kogane, where have you fucking been?” Pidge yells from behind the counter, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Right. Pidge Holt, Keith and Lance’s oldest shared friend, had ended up with a job at Fortune Coffee House, and Keith had been neglecting going out for a beer with her, Hunk, and Lance. Copyediting kept him busy, what can he say?

He sighs and walks up to the counter, flowers, card, and chocolate all balancing very precariously in the crook of one arm. “Hi, Pidge.”

“Don’t hi, Pidge me, you dirty fucker. I missed you!” If she could, Keith would bet every dime he had that she’d throw her pen at him. “Your hair is longer.”

Automatically, his hand shoots up to fidget with the end of his braid. She’s right, it has gotten a little longer, the tail now dangling over his heart instead of at his collar. “I guess it is. What’s new with you?”

“I got into AST.” She says nonchalantly, looking up at Keith with a devious grin.

“That’s great—holy shit, that’s great!”

AST, or Altea State Tech, was the best college in the entire area if you wanted to work on rockets one day, which Pidge did. Her grin is so bright, it blinds him a little, but he leans over the bar and wraps his free arm around her shoulders in an awkward hug.

“I know, isn’t it?” She gushes. “I start in September in the astronautical engineering program, the one Matt did, it’s going to be so, so great!”

“You’ve gotta tell me everything once you start,” Keith says when he pulls back, shifting all of his items between arms, “Has Lance stopped in today?”

“Basically used an entire giftcard stress-drinking iced green teas. He’s been here since eleven, so not very long.” Pidge snorts and picks up her mug with some silly science joke on it, taking a sip of whatever she’s concocted now. “I think he might’ve worn a hole in the floor. Same table as usual.”

“Oh, great,” an exhale rushes out of Keith’s chest, “Can I get a—”

“No, shut up. On the house.” Pidge points at an admittedly very large sign that says, Coming in with a special someone? Your first drink is on us!

“Well, I tried. Seeya, Pidgie. Have fun at AST.” Before Keith leaves, he drops a five dollar bill into the tip jar and slides between tables to get to the second, library-like room.

Fortune Coffee House had two spaces, the actual coffee bar and a second room with tables, an assortment of armchairs, and couches for studying, worship, or just to chat quietly. Keith slips through the doorframe and sees Lance sitting in his usual armchair, tucked into the alcove created by two windows. An empty plastic cup sits on the low table behind them.

Lance looks just as beautiful as the day Keith met him. His hair is longer and curlier, better taken care of, and freckles make their homes loud and proud across his face, but the Pacific ocean that sloshes around his pupils never changed, nor did the tilt of his smile or the slight scrunch of his nose when he laughed. Keith has kissed that scrunch on several occasions, to no fault of his own.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, blue,” Keith says as he approaches Lance, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “Got these for you.”

“Keithalicous, Keith, god, you scared me!” Lance exclaims but accepts both the kiss and the gifts he’s handed, running a gentle finger over the rose petals. “Did you get here okay?”

Keith thinks back on all the running around he’s done today and can’t tamp down the laugh. “As okay as I could’ve been. I liked the little game you sent me on. It was nice to go back to St. Taffy’s. Romelle still works there, yaknow?”

“I was just there this morning, goober.” Lance reminds him gently, setting the flowers and the chocolate on the table, working on opening the card. “I’m glad you liked it. I wasn’t sure.”

He remembers what’s written in the card. It was written late at night when Keith couldn’t sleep and instead spent precious minutes watching Lance’s sleeping face shift. “Right, yeah, ‘course, ah, I knew that.”

“Wow, did your code just stop working?” Lance jokes as he finally gets the sealed white envelope open (it was spit-sealed, Keith didn’t fuck with wax,) and pulls out the card.

Keith had found it months ago. It was a deep green and pictured a featureless white deer, standing small amongst towering trees. He found it pretty, and by the way Lance traced a reverent finger over the spiny branches of the trees, he did too.

The card itself wasn't a problem. It was what was written inside the card, or more rather, how much was written inside the card. Keith had used every available inch of space from the top edge of the right side to where the small inscription was on the left.

While Lance reads, Keith pulls at a loose thread in his sweater. It pools in his hand by the time Lance glances up at Keith and slowly folds the card shut. His crystal-clear eyes are glassy and wet with tears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Shut up,” Lance cuts in, “Shut all the way up. You’re such a gifted fucking writer, oh my god. That was beautiful. I love you too, Keithers.”

His hammering chest eases up and is replaced with birdsong and unbridled joy. “I’m glad. Did you…have a favorite part?”

Lance pauses, “Hm. I think it might’ve been ‘The stars could love me and the moon could cry for me, but I’d still choose you. Every time.’ Or ‘You are my north star over the ocean guiding me home and there is nowhere I would rather tilt my chin than up to your light.’ I told you, Keith, you’re a brilliant fucking writer.”

Keith doesn’t respond, but he does reach across and link Lance’s hand up with his. Lance tightens his grip, the gold metal of his rings digging into Keith’s fingers, and pulls Keith forward into a kiss that he wasn’t entirely sure was coffee shop appropriate.

“Can you cut that shit out? People read the Bible in here.” Pidge calls from the doorway.

“Sorry, Pidgie,” Lance says sheepishly, pulling away from Keith, “Thanks for the coffee.”

His mouth tastes like Lance’s strawberry Carmex and green tea. Keith accepts the hot strawberry mocha that’s handed to him and takes a sip, but he’s watching Lance like he’s the only star in the sky.

To Keith, he might as well be. There wasn’t room for much else in Keith’s night sky, anyways.

#vld #voltron #keith kogane #vld keith #keith voltron #lance mcclain #vld lance #klance #voltron legendary disappointment #vld shiro #vld pidge #soulficlet #soulreapinfic #keith vld #voltron lance #lance vld #in honor of valentine’s day #both of the quotes from keiths card are things ive written myself so #😁

73 notes · View notes

onlythegoodpretzels · 23 days

Text

Sketch and lines for Katie/Pidge helping Ulas after finding him prisoner on a druid ship. I love tiny people trying to keep taller characters upright.

For @whumpril alternate prompt 1, crutch! And Whumper of World's birthday prompt celebration day 7: wounded!

Fic WIP snippet below the cut. Comes from my main Voltron AU, so the paladins haven't met Ulas yet. She/her pronouns for Katie.

_____________________________________________________________

These vents were dark. It made it easy to go fast, because she could always see when a room was coming up and she had to be extra quiet. Without Shiro to keep her attention she could zone in, not look through the grates as she went. She had her map and she knew the corridors and she couldn’t be late.

Hunk wouldn’t leave Shiro on his own in here, and she wasn’t going to do it for a second longer than she had to.

But the fourth time completely dark room made her pause, trying to squint and see what it was. Princess had said this part of Galra ships was the barracks. But this was quiet. Like eerie quiet. Shouldn’t someone be here?

Nothing.

She passed three more, completely dark.

When she checked her map, Katie startled when something hazy flashed in front of her. Then she blinked. Her breath misted, glittering faintly in the light her her vizor. It was cold. Very cold. She only now noticed the chilly sting on her face, so apparently the armor had uses.

Were the Galra colder-liking than humans? Shiro hadn’t said anything about that.

Katie curled her hands in as she kept going. It hadn’t been cold upstairs. Now she could feel it in her fingertips and in her mouth. Winter in a tiny corner of space. Why?

Up ahead, a grate flickered with faint purple light. She should have crossed by as far from it as she could. Quiet. Out of sight. But Katie’s heart beat in her throat and the cold felt sharp. Why did the Galra want it cold here? Was it servers or storage or…or…?

The room glinted from faintly glowing lines across the floor. It was bare-edged, small. Splotched and stained. Katie could see how white her breath misted easier here. It was freezing.

A heavy metal frame loomed along the farthest wall, and a Galra dangled from it, slow plumes of its breathing roping around its chest. It hung by wrists and ankles, arms forced up and out, legs pinned back and bent, head sagged forward over the floor. A heavy-looking mask obscured the lower half of its face, fastener straps crossed behind its head to loop at the neck. Shreds of clothing ribboned down off its shoulders, tassels slowly shaking.

Prisoners. Katie’s throat felt dry and thick. That’s why they made it cold.

But she hadn’t been thinking Galra. Did they even have a justice system? What did they even care enough about to lock someone up?

The Galra tremored in the quiet. Shivering? Katie couldn’t stop the part of her brain that stared, trying to tell if the clumped, stained patches on it were fur or scales or something else.

She needed to, needed the distraction, because this was already more than she wanted to know. The wondering made her queasy -- had they ever hung Shiro like that? Waiting somewhere shivering until they were satisfied? And ready to hurt him more?

How cold was Dad right now?

“Katie, what’s your --- ?”

Shit! Katie flicked the comm off instantly, but the whisper still ricocheted in the space.

The Galra’s eyes snapped open, the stark yellow like an error in a room so dark. Shit shit! Katie froze, skin crawling. It was facing right at her! But maybe those blank no-pupil eyes couldn’t see in the dark well?

No. The Galra’s eyes widened and it lifted its head, tufted ears swiveled back. As it looked up at her, Katie got a really good look at the nasty crusted patch of something at the base of its neck, thick and congealed.

Blood, her brain insisted. On a person that would be blood. The Galra twitched on its shackles, a harsh punch of mist bursting out of the mask thing.

Shit shit shit it definitely saw her! It was going to shout! Katie’ clutched at her borrowed Altean gun. Should she shoot it? Wouldn’t someone hear. Wouldn’t…wouldn’t that be wrong if it couldn’t move?

Before she could decide, a strange, frigid burst of cold rushed through the air, skittering up her back like it went right through the armor. Sudden sweet smell cluttered the air.

“N-nnnh!” The sound was half a hiss and half something shriller, so quiet Katie barley heard it. The Galra shook its head violently, ears going flat to its neck. “Ghhhh.”

Katie stopped breathing as the vent beneath her jarred, and a door underneath her feet opened. And a Galra druid drifted into the room, the awful point on the top of its head within arms reach of where she crouched.

The cold reached all the way into her teeth now. Katie had never seen one this close before. It’s robe looked slick and gnarled somehow, like it had the texture of thin treebark. Something about how its back moved set hers prickling and aching, like the joints were in the wrong places for her human-style brain to interpret it as something that wasn’t damaged.

“Okaxar.” The druid’s voice had uncomfortable dissonance, like it had two sounds at once. “Kal sakar Zagarax. Tra bakilkol gaal?”

Gaal. The word for speak. Katie only half recognized some of the others. She needed more time to be any use eavesdropping. But the druid’s tone swung up, then down. Mocking.

Katie’s mouth went dry. This was…this was an interrogation.

The hanging Galra full-body shuddered when the druid tapped the mask. The object hissed and shifted, sections moving down and up, and the Galra lurched. The mask settled, looking looser. It’s next puff of breath sounded more like a voice and less like an animal.

Not a mask. A muzzle. Which had been sealing its mouth.

“V-va….Vash…” The Galra broke off choking, eyes clenched shut. It swallowed.

It was going to tell the druid. She’d failed all of them.

The druid clicked, quiet and low. Even thi close Kaite couldn’t tell if it had teeth or if it were making the sound with something even creepier. It said something long and sick-slow as it reached to the Galra’s chest.

Except halfway there, the druid stopped. Completely still, claws starkly edged in the ominous light from the floor. Slowly, silently, it straightened, terrifyingly tall. The edge of the curved, bright porcelain mask-piece glinted, reflecting the lights like they were spears right at her. She couldn’t see any of the glowing eyes, but they must be just past.

Katie’s heartbeat thudded in her head, harder and harder with each second. She didn’t breathe. Shit shit, did it hea herr? Did it feel her, like some kind of awful eel thing? She needed to run, to get out, but if she moved at all it would know.

A weak snarl broke the silence. “V-Vash rib hagox.” The bloody Galra wrenched its head up and away from the druid. “Tra ket----”

The druid glitched forward, suddenly shadowy and see-through, and a second later it loomed across the room, pinning the Galra to the wall by the throat, the chains limp and dangling. Shit it was strong! It lifted its prisoner and raised its free hand. The lights on the floor burst bright, pulses streaming along them toward the frame, up its support struts, and down into the shackles.

The Galra shrieked, fighting the chains.

Katie flinched. The sound was alien, thicker and in more pieces than a human scream. She wanted to close her eyes. To cover her ears. But she didn’t. She needed to know when the druid found out about her.

Wait, no, she needed to run!

The druid clenched its fist and the energy stopped. The Galra sagged in the sudden silence, heavy plumes of cold mist dragging out of it. Its head lolled sideways, not looking at her.

Not --- wait ---

The Galra tensed and yanked its head away from the druid again. “Tra ketral,” it wheezed.

The druid crackled, like an electrical outlet ready to zap. Its hand snapped flat.

Whatever it was doing wasn’t electricity. The Galra didn’t spasm like it couldn’t control itself. Its eyes didn’t close and its skin rippled behind the mask, fighting to open its mouth. It’s fighting looked desperate. Voluntary.

This time, it screamed even louder.

This time, Katie crawled.

Moving at all zapped terror through her. But she had…she had a distraction. The druid was busy. She couldn’t get caught. She couldn’t ---

The scream stopped, and she froze. An awful, three-second pause, listening for the attack, the words that would send the druid after her.

Nothing.

The druid asked a question, which she was too terrified to understand.

The Galra choked an answer.

ZAAAAP. The Galra howled.

Katie moved again.

She kept to the rhythm until finally she was at the far end of the ventilation branch. Far away from the grate, around two turns. She should go further. She was too close to the druid, to the awful sweet smell choking the air when they made things glow, made things hurt.

But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t! What if it followed her? She needed to know what happened. Katie made sure her comms were still off and curled into a ball. She held onto her helmet and waited for something to change.

The prisoner kept shrieking.

In the quieter pauses, the druid kept speaking. Short, curt sentences. Demands? Questions? This far she couldn’t make out the words, and it wasn’t like she knew enough of them to be useful anyway.

When the next scream bounced around her, Katie dug her fingers into the unforgiving hardness of the helmet, like she could cover her ears. Since she didn’t understand it wasn’t the same as listening for real to something like this. She could do it. She needed to know if the prisoner alerted the ship. Somehow, it hadn’t yet. If it did, the others would need to know as soon as possible, if they had any chance of finding the lion first.

She was staying. She could do this.

Finally, finally, it stopped. The prisoner made a sharp, high pitched whimper, so much like a hurt animal Katie twitched. Then, silence.

A door hissed, far off.

Chill stabbed through Katie like an icicle to the back.

Then it was gone.

___________________________________________________________

For a moment all Katie could do was shiver, clutching her borrowed Altean pistol, every muscle locked and ready to fight. But nothing else changed. Nothing mateiralized out of the shadows. No more of that awful grating voice.

The druid was gone.

Katie bit her gauntlet and blinked furiously as tears tried to get in her face. It was ok! It was ok? The druid hadn’t found her!

As the pounding in her ears cleared, rough ragged breathing filled up the tiny passage around her.

Katie swallowed, skin prickling.

The prisoner. It…it hadn’t told the druid. It hadn’t looked at her, not at all, as soon as the druid entered the cell. And…it had taken the druid’s attention right at that pause, right when she’d been sure the monster was going to turn around and see her. She’d been right there. It would have been over.

And the Galra…what? Covered for her?

It moaned. So soft she almost didn’t hear it.

She should go.

Something heavy and frantic rattled in Katie’s gut as she shuddered. Her comms had been of for minutes -- she didn’t even know how long. The others must be furious. Shiro must be worried sick, if he even was aware who he was with right now. She had to get back to him. She had to get back to him now.

It was a Galra. She should go.

But --- but it had helped! It had helped and she’d heard…she knew what it screaming sounded like!

Cursing silently, Katie inched back to the cell vent.

____________________________________________________________

The room flickered dark now, the floor lights dim. The Galra hung trembling, head lower than before. Limp and still in the chains.

Something dripped from the front of the muzzle. Please don’t be blood.

It…no. She wasn’t going to it someone who helped her. They didn’t look good. Katie’s mouth went sandpaper dry. If they really were unconscious, she’d be screwed. No way she could move them on her own.

She slid down into the cell as quietly as she could. “Hey. You there?”

The Galra flinched away from her voice, eyes closed. A barely-there sound whined in their throat.

Fair, honestly. This close Katie could see dark marks across their arms where the energy had flared into them. She moved as slowly as she could make herself, wracking her brain for anything. “You don’t know what I’m saying. Um…shit, listen is…Yalki? Yalki.”

The Galra finally dragged their eyes open, squinting at her. They gasped, ears twitching. “Yhhh…?” They sounded garbled and wordless again. “V-vllll.”

Moment of truth here. If they decided to scream now, she’d be doomed. “Shh. I’m not going to hurt you,” Katie whispered. She hated putting her back to the door, but she forced herself to do it. She’d feel the chill, if that thing came back. And she needed to get the Galra down. And figure out how to say that.“I…Vash…” Yes! That was the word! “Vash kakorhi? Help? G-grax. Wait.”

The Galra didn’t yell or growl. They blinked, eyes lighter yellow than she’d thought they were. They lowered their head, spots across their scalp prickling. “Vllln,” they slurred again, as soft a whisper as hers. Softer, even, it was so hoarse.

Ok. Well that wasn’t bad. Keeping half an eye on the Galra, Katie stepped up to the corner of the frame. It held them so high she could only reach the shackle points on their ankles. Katie felt along the metal struts, cursing internally at how smooth and featureless they were. No exposed interfaces. Hunk would be able to do something with the machine, the power conduits, the joists and joints, but she couldn’t. She needed an in.

Damn it was weird being near them, with their long ankle bone as big as her forearm. Kaite felt strangely, impossibly small. She had to work hard not to keep glancing at the strange stony glint on their foot.

No good. She couldn’t do anything down here. “Sorry.” Taking a deep breath, she caught a central strut and hauled herself up onto the mechanism. It had crossbeams and connectors, enough places for her to grab and step to climb. She had to see more of it.

The Galra hissed and went rigid. Katie felt it, felt the tremor skittering through the shackles up into the frame beneath her. Every hair on her arms stood straight up at the sound, the inhuman toothiness of it. She froze.

She couldn’t do this without climbing up across them.

But then her brain caught up, as the Galra made a confused mewing noise and tried to look down at her, but flinched before they could. Sure, they sounded like a hunting thing out to eat her, but they were shaking. She could feel it. They couldn’t kick. They couldn’t bite. They couldn’t even see her down here. They couldn’t do anything about anything she did. She wasn’t in danger here.

Katie swallowed and kept climbing. “It’s ok. One sec.”

The Galra didn’t move or protest as she clambered across them. Their weird shallow breaths brushed her chestplate as she scooted past, trying to keep track of where the pressure moved so she didn’t wrench on them. They craned their neck, trying to keep her in view, then closed their eyes when they couldn’t turn anymore. A rippling shudder ran up their back, and this time she was sure they had fur there as it puffed up.

Their breath caught. Hurt. Not trying to hurt her.

Katie scrambled high enough to reach the wrist cuffs. Finally some good news! The hard-light chain threaded into the mechanism behind the Galra’s pinned arms. After anchoring, the cords continued down and joined in the center with a small panel right behind the Galra’s upper back. Not a bad design; completely impossible for the person on the machine to reach. But easy for her. Katie grinned and wormed her hand beneath the Galra’s back. She could almost reach… “Hang on.”

But she bumped something hard with the back of her hand. The Galra mewled, sharp and sudden, then cut off like they bit down the sound.

Shit. Katie hung on, trying to listen past the creaking and the awful grating gasps from the Galra. Why was she so good at hitting spots like that without thinking?

No chill. Nothing yet. She had to hurry. “Hold still -- uh --- grax.”

The Galra clenched their eyes shut and leaned down as far as they could. “Z-zhhhhr.”

That she knew, and it should be ‘zar.’ What was wrong that it came out like that?

Get them down first.

The panel had shoddy security, no two-factor, no nothing. Of course. Shouldn’t underestimate who might want to steal your prisoner. Katie hooked in her wrist console and the protocols took like a minute. She made sure she had a good grip on the struts, wishing she had the words to actually warn them. “Sorry.” Maybe the tone would scan. “Now.”

She deactivated the chains.

The Galra pitched forward roughly, arms spasming. They didn’t manage to get their hands under them fully and hit down with a rough thud, the impact jarring up their still-pinned legs. The grating force made Katie flinch in sympathy. A strangled, almost silent sound wrenched out of them and they kicked instinctively, except the ankle tethers hummed and sparked.

The Galra curled desperately, hands clutched near their face, and went completely still. They heaved in rattling, drowning gulps, but didn’t make any more noise.

Thank everything --- that hit had been loud enough on its own.

Katie dropped back down as fast as she could, trying not to stare at how much of them she could see now, at the dark purple of their back and the lighter fur that speckled down their spine from where it covered their neck and head and the very-intuitively-wrong crusted orange patches that jaggedly interrupted both.

At the whitish ends of their legs and the weird hoof-like growths on the bottom of their pinned feet. And the dark singed circles in the fur she carefully avoided as she reached in, where the druid had hurt them.

She deactivated the ankle panel as fast as she could.

The Galra folded instantly into a ball, limbs tremoring badly. Not fetal position, but too close not to tug terribly at Katie’s gut. They pressed their face hard into the floor, like they were trying to stay quiet.

She wished there was time to wait. Katie reached for their shoulder. “Come on. Get up. Uh, Ga --- no -- Zek.” Oh geeze they were shivering, so hard it felt like little punches against her hand. Was that bad? “Zek!”

The Galra choked. Their eyes flickered up at her an alarming creamy color. They nodded vaguely, or they buckled against the floor, she couldn’t tell. Panic clenched her hands. Did they know she was here? Was it like Shiro, and they weren’t even seeing her?

Katie cursed how small the vent looked up at the edge of the wall. It hadn’t been small before. “Come on!” she snarled, and, hesitating only a second, she dragged the Galra up with both hands and ducked under their chest.

The Galra cried out in surprise, a short yip-sound. Their weird narrow torso almost slipped right off her immediately, falling in directions she didn’t anticipate and brace. Katie stumbled, catching an arm and fistfull of fur. Then they scrabbled their too-big hands on her armor, the tink-tink of claws feeling all kinds of wrong.

The Galra heaved a desperate gasp and held on, shuffling to their feet under her as she stood. They sagged heavily, scrabbling to stay upright. Now the force of their shivers shook her too, so big Katie could feel it rattling in her head.

Ok, ok, assume that’s bad. Get them out of the cold.

Katie hobbled them to the wall, half-guiding, half-dragging. The Galra was so ridiculously big everything about them felt wrong, their enormous palms plastered across her chest, their bent knees in the way of her steps. It felt dangerous, but distantly, like her whole body know that if they spasmed again they’d knock her over. Their grip wasn’t steady -- she could feel it falter between claws and palms and back again. Polite? Half-conscious? Both?

Ugh she needed more words. And she had to get them both out of here. "Ok, come on."

12 notes · View notes