#Rooooad triiiiip

[ask-the-wimbletons]

good morning hows team edibles and team hank

"ROAAAD TRIIIIP!!"

"ROOOOAD TRIIIIIP"

"shut the FUCK UP"

[ [ Everyone is available for asks again ] ]

[earthwindfire82]

Nobody: Me: 🗣 ROOOOAD TRIIIIIP! https://www.instagram.com/p/CNJSuG2lQsz/?igshid=bpxys0umdmiy

[kingoftheravensarchive]

13 (ROOOOAD TRIIIIIP c

            CREEPY LOCATION | accepting !

end of the road

On that shadowy stretch of road there was a darkness that was barely illuminated by the vehicle’s headlights. A meager car, large enough to squeeze both men, two bags of belongings, and a cooler of food for the moments like these when rest stops were impossible to find. Loki had fit himself somewhat comfortably in the driver’s seat initially, though now he sat slightly hunched with eyes glued squarely to the haphazard road they had been driving on for some two hours now in the dead of night. It seemed entirely possible that they’d have to pull over and find rest scrunched up in their little car or off to the side of the road where foliage met asphalt.

The map held nothing to either man’s attention that would suggest they were off course. Loki had abandoned the highway some time ago in hopes that the side roads were a bit more scenic and ethereal. They were, in their own way: endless pines stretching to the sky, lining either side of the two lane road; a glimpse of a glittering lake in the distance through shadowy branches; an occasional mailbox indicating some semblance of life located on the other end of a long and winding driveway. It was, for all intents and purposes, an interesting scenery, far better than what the highway had to offer. 

Unfortunately, it felt like a never ending road. Several times Loki had to squint at another passing mailbox in the reaching hopes that it wasn’t the one they’d been passing over and over again. Driving in a circle without actually driving in a circle since their road was impeccably straight.

And it may have been the time, which the stereo clock said was half past one in the morning, but there hadn’t been a single car on the road with them. Not since the highway.

“Surely there’s gotta be a turn to get back to the highway?” He asked suddenly, turning to peer at the map they had partially opened. It would take him ages to turn around and go back the other way at this point.

It wouldn’t matter. Loki quite suddenly had to slam on the brakes and turn the wheel to skid the car safely to a stop before it rammed into the fence marked squarely through the road. Or, really, at the end of it. A jagged wooden sign was grotesquely nailed into the fence, black lettering on its face reading “End Of Road” in uneven handwriting. A dead end.

“What the fuck.” The words came out as a hiss, mimicking the disturbed dirt from the road as it settled on the car. A glance at the map gave no indication that the road was meant to end, but judging by what Loki could see on the other side of the fence, there was no road, only the wild growth of grass before it met towering pines. There hadn’t been a road there in a long time, if there had been one at all. “Why would the map say the road keeps going?”

It was frustrating, this sudden obstacle. Loki was tired, his limbs were sore from being cramped in the car, and his bad call to turn off the highway had been exactly that: a bad call, one growing worse by the second. Rather than admit his foolish intentions, he turned the car off and scrambled out of the driver’s side door. Not for any particular reason apart from the fact that air and a good stretch sounded like a requirement before he bothered to try and deconstruct this issue. 

The air outside was cold, biting. It nipped at his sweater cruelly and threatened his exposed neck. Outside, the quiet of nighttime wild could be plainly heard: crickets chirping in a combined chorus, the rustle of leaves in the sweet breeze that passed through, the distant cry of a coyote and a companion’s reply, and the croak of a raven---wait.

Not a raven. Not a crow. Loki’s ears perked, his form faintly tense with suspicion. Being surrounded by various corvids at all manners of the day adjusts a person to their individual noises. Ravens croaked and sometimes mimicked, jays yelled, magpies screeched, jackdaws squeaked. But underlying these unique identifiers was one sole fact: they sounded wholly and completely themselves. Loki could pick out a raven amongst a hundred different birds, and so on. Likewise, he could locate a fake with ease.

Whatever was calling from the dark trees nearby was trying desperately to sound like a raven. Loki knew better. The noisemaker was not a corvid and the King fixed his darkening and narrowed gaze to the area the sound had come from and tensed even more.