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closingwaters · 10 months

Text

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @kadavernagh @closingwaters

SUMMARY: Regan feels a pull that differs from the dead, and stumbles upon Teagan. With a scream, she manages to set the nix free.

WARNINGS: None

The discovery, like many great ones, had been an accident. A happy one, maybe, if Regan could feel such a thing. Screaming near the hardened goop along Worm Row was out of frenzied desperation – there wasn’t enough time to get somewhere more isolated, and most people had learned to stay away from the substance’s margins by now. It had been a good instinct; there was no one there. But when the scream came, the ooze quaked, flying from the pavement and the trees like cracked pieces of pottery. Underneath, green leaves sprawled from the branches, as all of the others that had been outside of the goop had already shaken off their fall colors. Like it was preserved.

Did that mean those trapped underneath might still be alive? She couldn’t feel any death radiating from the area, but that didn’t mean much in the face of the unknown. It was dwarfed by a far larger question: could they be freed? She needed to think on this, what it might mean. Tell someone, maybe. There was a thought. Who could she even tell? I screamed at the goo and it exploded. Elias would think she was insane. Jade would think her strange…er. Emilio… well, that could work, but could she stomach it?

Regan stuffed her hands in her pockets and pulled in a long breath. The cold air was irritating to her lungs after screaming, making her skin prickle all the way from her neck to her –

No, that wasn’t the cold. It was weak, but unmistakable. The presence of fae. Everything was heightened right now, her muscles exercised in the way they needed to be, her attention sharp as a scalpel. She easily identified the origin. A tall projection sticking up from the goo, right at the edge. About the size of a person. As Regan tread closer and the light bounced off the rough angles of the structure, she could pick a face out of it. Limbs. Features. Familiarity. Teagan.

Her stomach hardened like the substance she was staring down. She knew what needed to be done. Cliodhna would have said Fate brought her here today and showed her the path. Regan couldn’t refute that. Óinseach, she berated herself; she knew well how the burden of proof worked, but often, that changed nothing.

There was no point on asking Teagan. Regan knew better than to rest her hand on the substance. Touching it obviously hadn’t gone well for Teagan, or countless others. And then there was the scream. If she had a hand on Teagan, even with the hardened goo in between, it could kill her.

This one, at least, would not be so torturous. Regan reeled a deep breath, winding herself. She shuffled backwards, probably further than she needed to, but she didn’t want to risk the harm. The scream behaved, exploding out, the force of it covering the ooze. And as a fissure crackled through Teagan, Regan chose to focus on the lack of death filling her lungs. She’d survive this yet.

The coarse embrace of whatever the goo was began to loosen, the textured connection retreating its grasp. There was nothing. For a long while, lungs burned and vision remained obscured, pain sweeping under skin like tremors of an earthquake and ears catching final muffled remnants of a hollow and terrifying scream. All this, accompanied by the clanking of a toppling bucket.

Teagan gasped as her tomb crumbled around her, setting her free. Knees buckled, a struggled whimper escaping her while she surveyed her blurry surroundings. Several sensations and discomforts attacked her at once, the most jarring being a crisp and chilling breeze. It was warm the last time she had been graced with the dance of wind on her skin. The startling realization sent her to the ground in an unceremonious bundle of weak limbs.

“Where…” She trailed off, voice catching painfully on her jagged throat. Her entire body felt too dry, the last drops of water from the bucket next to her not being enough to sate her. “Water. Water.” Teagan all but begged for it, only just then able to put together the blurry set of colors in front of her. Regan. Why was she there anyway? She wondered blearily, attempting to roll over to her hands and knees to crawl. It was futile, and she remained on her side, looking pitifully at Regan.

“What happened?”

The hardened covering cracked and then practically exploded, revealing the trapped individual underneath. Regan was quick to clamp her mouth shut. Teagan was free. Anything more would just vibrate her organs and bones into a different kind of goo. “Teagan?” Between the scream and whatever sensory overload she must have been experiencing right now, Regan didn’t really expect the woman to hear her. She barely appeared to register she was there. But as scared eyes found her own, Regan tried again. “Teagan. You’re out.”

She hadn’t exactly planned on helping out a giant, pink amphibian. What she had would have to suffice. Regan reached into her bag and pulled out her water bottle, placing it carefully in Teagan’s shaking hands. Pink as she was, she still looked pale, sickly.

“Come on. We need to –” She couldn’t decide what was more pressing – examining Teagan or getting her out of pedestrian sight while she looked this way. She probably couldn’t even hold a glamour up. Yeah, she needed to get out of here. “Can you move?” That was negatory, Regan realized, as Teagan rolled on her side like an obedient dog. Not good. Regan crouched down, offering a hand to Teagan, her other arm supporting her from behind. “I think… I think we both have questions. You must be disoriented. I don’t even know how long you were in there.” She surely didn’t either. They’d need to figure that out. Or, actually, Arden would know. Right, Arden. That was the proper place to bring Teagan.

Regan started shepherding Teagan toward the car, one shuffling step at a time. She couldn’t help but notice the tail – her tail – was longer, though however long she was trapped in the goo probably halted her healing. “I felt your presence from under the… substance. I thought I could get you out by screaming. So I did.” Which begged the question: were there others?

Right. They both had questions, and in a public space neither one could have them answered. That’s when Teagan realized the state she was in. Her glamour was down. “Shit…shit.” No matter how hard she tried, the illusion would not comply. The veil failed to conceal her true nature, and Teagan had no other choice than to force her body to will itself off the ground. She was grateful for Regan’s help, almost surprised at the strength she displayed. Teagan had nearly all her bodyweight resting on the banshee, and she only saw a tinge of extra effort. Though, given what the woman’s job likely entailed, it made sense for her to be able to lift above her own weight.

“You could sense me even through that?” She chuckled lightly, no humor able to be found in such a pathetic sound. “I appreciate what you did. Don’t even know how long I was trapped in there.” Teagan breathed shallowly, struggling to keep her feet moving one in front of the other. What should’ve been a daily task became a painful chore, nearly sinking whatever optimism was left in the nix. If she focused on it any longer, she was sure it was leave her completely, so she refocused on Regan and her car.

“What is today?” She asked hoarsely, “It was October, last I remember.” Her brows sewed together, terrified at the answer she might receive. “Feels much colder than when I fell in. I was on my way to Arden.” Teagan’s eyes widened with worry, thinking of her partner. “Is she okay? Is she free? Did she…” The nix could only imagine where Arden’s mind went. Surely she believed she was dead. How long had she been grieving? How long had Teagan’s stupidity caused her girlfriend to be in pain? She stifled a sob, opening the door and fell into the passenger seat, chugging the water so quickly that much of it splashed onto her face.

The strain and weight of Teagan’s muscles was immense, but Regan held firm, trying her best to heft Teagan toward the car. Gradually, she seemed to be waking up from her haze, questions obviously flooding her mind. And soon, Regan’s ears.

October. So it had been over a month, and perhaps closer to two. “It’s November 26th.” Patient now oriented to time and place, Regan thought wryly. “Don’t worry about that now. There is nothing more pressing than getting you stabilized.” How she was alive, Regan wasn’t sure, but she surely needed food and water. The goo must have kept her in some kind of a… stasis. She tried to steady Teagan as she opened the door for her. “Sit. I want you to sit for a minute before we leave.”

Selfishly, Regan kind of needed that too. This was making her head spin. Which was something her lungs didn’t take kindly to.

More questions. “She’s fine. She –” Well, best not overplay it. Regan wasn’t sure Arden was actually all that fine. “She’s been worried, I’m sure. She hasn’t been harmed or trapped.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to shut out the insanity of this. “All of my training, all protocols, they would instruct me to bring you to the hospital right now. But I obviously cannot do that.” There was a pink problem. And Teagan didn’t need to share how she felt about hospitals a second time. “And so… I’m going to bring you to the morgue. Arden can meet us there, if you wish.” A pause, though this wasn’t particularly a question. “Okay?”

The urge to panic was strong, the nix’s mind screaming at the date given to her. Two months of her life were gone. Halloween had been missed, and so had Arden’s birthday. Plans had come and gone, time stopping for her, but painfully continuing for her girlfriend. How had she spent those days? With a bottle and some cigarettes most likely, and the thought made the nymph’s eyes water from the fountain of guilt. She closed her them tightly and willed her thoughts to slow, focusing on Regan. It wasn’t the time to break down. Falling into her prison was her own fault.

Teagan nodded weakly, her stomach grumbling and her head beginning to throb and pulse painfully, making her groan. “Sitting here is just fine with me.” She coughed, a poor attempt to dismiss the dry patches in her throat. The discomfort made her want to sink further into her seat, wish for the safe embrace of her bed, or Arden, or both. Both would be preferable. But Regan had other plans, and despite any hesitancy Teagan had, she knew it was for the best that she did what she was told. It wasn’t like she was capable of doing more than groaning in pain anyway.

“Okay. As long as you don’t take me to a hospital, I will do as I’m told. The morgue is fine, but, um…” She patted her pockets, only just then remembering she had left home without it. “Can you contact her? I don’t have my phone and for her sake, I need her to know that I’m okay. Alive. Please?” Tired eyes landed on Regan, a shimmer of light brightening in them. Gratitude. “And I really appreciate this, Regan. I know you’re doing your protocols and all that, but I still appreciate it. You’ve helped me so many times now.” Teagan swallowed, her throat burning at the friction. She couldn’t wait for the mayhem to be over, or at least for sleep to overtake her.

Teagan was either being reasonably agreeable, or didn’t have the energy to argue. Either way, Regan got what she requested, and the fae took a steadying seat. She was coming to understand Teagan’s physiology a little more. The way those projections – gills – on the sides of her face drooped, the leathered texture of her skin. Evidence of her captivity and the physical toll it had taken. She hadn’t fully realized she’d been studying Teagan until the woman spoke and surprised her, croaking voice not helping anything.

Regan thought for a moment, decided there was no harm in it and potentially a lot of good, and sent Arden a quick message. She was pleased they’d have each other again, but didn’t particularly wish to be present in the middle of all of their… soggy reunion feelings. She’d punt anything but medical questions to when they were all at the morgue, and let Teagan take it from there. While she had her phone, she also shot Marcy a quick text, requesting the lobby to be cleared out and Rickers distracted. That was easy to do, and Marcy was nicer about it than Regan was. Regan just locked him in his office sometimes.

Business accomplished, she glanced over at the exhausted fae in the passenger seat. Teagan didn’t look like she would fall unconscious if the wind brushed her skin now, so Regan made the executive decision to climb in and hotfoot it. An ambulance siren would have been nice. She could probably imitate one. But sometimes secrecy won over urgency.

“Think nothing of it.” Regan would be doing enough thinking for both of them. She had felt Teagan. But Teagan wasn’t the only one who had vanished underneath the goo; there were others, perhaps hundreds. And they were alive.

#wickedswriting #writings #waving words #regan and teagan #c: regan #still breathing

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