#and might have gone on a few ventures to keep them safe in the desert

[impossible-rat-babies]

what gets me sometimes w the idea of the calamity is that there are probably places in the deserts of thanalan where the fire of bahamut turned the sand to glass and it’s just. a few handfuls of sand there are layers of glass

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (2)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 3.5k warnings: heavy focus on Bucky’s PTSD/anxiety, hella nervous!bucky, dangerously sweet!y/n  🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“What the hell do you mean ‘you’re not going’?”

Bucky shrugged, taking a bite of the bagel Steve picked up on his way to the apartment. He flinched as Steve flung open the curtains, expelling a cloud of dust as the sunlight invaded the living room, illuminating over months of untouched mail on the coffee table and crumbs in the carpet.  

Sam kept his eyes burning on Bucky from the other end of the table. “You can’t back out now, Barnes. She’s expecting you!”

“What’s this about again?” Steve asked as he slid into the chair beside Bucky.  

“Book club. Y/n. Barnes is being a coward again,” Sam explained a little too nonchalantly for Bucky's taste.  

“I’m not being a coward,” Bucky grumbled, avoiding Sam’s eyes and very much proving his friend’s point. “I’ve just— I’ve got better things to do.”

He regretted it the moment it left his lips because both Sam and Steve exchanged a less than subtle, irritatingly familiar glance.  

“Yeah, like what?” Steve scoffed. He extended his arms out to gesture to the empty apartment. “You got tons of plans this week? Think you might see sunlight again or did someone hang garlic in the hallway?”

“Shut up,” Bucky warned, rolling his eyes. It had been a few days since he’d ventured out to the VA for the first time and it was more than he’d done in weeks. It should have been enough for these two, but it never was. They always wanted more out of him. They couldn’t just leave him to rot in his apartment, could they?

“It’s Sunday, you know,” Sam said, devilish smirk rising on his face.  

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I’m well aware.”  

“Come on, man!” Sam groaned, slamming his hand on the table enough to cause a ripple in the coffee mugs. “I saw the way you were looking at her. You can’t tell me seeing her again isn’t a good enough reason to go...”

Bucky’s cheeks flushed red. They burned hot on his skin and it only seemed to make it worse. He’d never been like this before he was discharged – flustered and easily embarrassed. He supposed before he came home with one less limb and baggage the size of his living room, he didn’t have much to be embarrassed about. He was a flirt, a bit shameless about it, too. He’d had girlfriends and hookups and never thought much about it.  

But now? The vague idea of even presuming to be interested in a woman was borderline laughable. What chance could he possibly have? He was washed up and broken, missing a few pieces, and half off his rocker. There wasn’t a chance in hell you’d go for a guy like him. It was easier to just pretend like he didn’t care, give into the empty void he believed his heart to be, and waste away.  

“Seeing her again isn’t a good enough reason to go,” Bucky said flatly, much to Sam’s annoyance. It was a bold-faced lie, one all three of them were well aware of, but it didn’t mean Bucky needed to give them the satisfaction of admitting it.  

He thought of you in that sunset red sweater, holding a book tight to your chest with that sort of bright starlight look in your eyes as you listened intently to a retired vet go on and on about his personal connection to some corny book. He’d only met you for maybe a span of a few minutes, and still, he could somehow still picture your smile. He wanted to see it again.  

But there was a sharp pain in his left arm; it burned, enough for Bucky to reach across his chest and try to put pressure on it, only to slip through thin air and land against his ribs. The pain remained, like an extension of himself, on an arm that was no longer apart of him. There and not there all at once. He groaned.  

“It’s not a good enough reason, Sam,” Bucky repeated. “I’m not going. She probably won’t even notice.”

Another lie.  

Sam shook his head, the smile quickly leaving his face in favor of one Bucky knew all too well. Disappointment. Frustration. The thing was, it didn’t hurt as much when Bucky was purposeful in creating it.  

“I thought you liked her?” Steve asked cautiously, eyes catching Sam’s for only a moment before he turned back to Bucky. They’d been talking about him. He hated when they did that.  

“I don’t even know her, Steve,” Bucky shot back. He shouldn’t be getting angry with them. They were only trying to help. And yet here he was – pushing away the only two people left in his life that still managed to tolerate him. He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw, trying to push past it. “She’s nice, okay? She’s pretty. Is that what you want me to say?”

Steve sat back in his chair, exhausted. “I want you to be happy, Buck.”

Bucky scoffed. “Yeah, well, shoulda thought of that before I got myself blown up.”

“Bucky--”

“Let it go, man,” Sam sighed, setting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.  

Bucky felt like he could sink straight into his chair. Why did he always do this?

“I hope you change your mind,” Sam said simply, gathering up his things as he and Steve started to make their way to the door. “It could be good for you.”

Bucky knew what he meant by that, the underlaying message hidden just beneath the surface: she could be good for you.  

Right on cue, the pain started up again in his arm that was both there and not there, and Bucky tried to grit his teeth through it, though Sam could spot the tells almost immediately: his right-hand gripping to the arm rest, the flinch in his jaw, the short tense breaths.  

Sam sighed, pausing in the door frame. “We’ll be back in a few days. Try to clean up the place, will you? It’s a shithole in here.”

“Ma said she’d bake you cobbler if you promise to eat it,” Steve offered, too hopeful for his own good. It had been Bucky’s favorite once; the sort of dessert he talked about on desert nights when the mess hall served day old meatloaf and bland potatoes. He didn’t have much of an appetite these days.  

Bucky forced out a smile for his friend’s sake and nodded.  

A familiar silence swept over the apartment as the door closed behind them. It had been a comfort once; a darkness that swept around his shoulders like a blanket. It kept him isolated and suffocated and still, safe.  

Now, it mocked him.

He stared at the knob on the door, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. He’d done this about a dozen times before, trying to convince himself to do something more with his days than waste away in an expensive one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn.  

Steve was right. What the hell else was he going to do today? Stare at the wall for a few hours? Pretend to watch TV and not catch a single word of dialogue? Make a meal he wouldn’t eat?

He thought of you again. How you might scan the room in search of him and a frown might pull at the corner of your lips to not find him amongst the crowd. He wondered if you’d be dressed in yellow or orange or if you’d resemble a cloudless sky as the sun touched over the peaks of the city in soft pinks and purples.

He wanted to know so badly it was killing him.  

“Fuck.”  

He dragged his feet to the bedroom to find something half decent to wear.  

***

It had been a less than ideal start to your day.  

The children’s reading presentation at the library got a little out of hand when the speaker – a local theater student – got caught up in the voices and scared half of the toddlers to tears as he took some interesting liberties with The Cat in the Hat.

Then, a rather unpleasant woman yelled at you for twenty minutes about a man sleeping on the bench outside the near the entrance as if it were a personal affront that this man, a little down on his luck, dared to catch a few minutes of sleep in a public place.  

The internet was shotty all day, leaving a few college students red in the face and with fat tears matching those of the toddlers in the next room over when hours' worth of work had suddenly disappeared in front of their eyes.  

And of course – the teenagers. A band of four boys who hid under the brim of baseball caps with skateboards tucked under their arms, who found it rather amusing to stalk out the adult section and flip through the sorts of novels with bare chested men on the cover until their snickering could be heard from the floor below.  

It warranted a coffee, at least.  

The only solace was that it was Sunday. Your favorite day of the week. It meant a few hours at the VA and catching up with the guys. You hadn’t seen Natasha in a while and you were hoping to see how her new job at the security firm had gone. She was exceptionally qualified and you were almost certain you had her interview answers memorized by the time you’d finished practicing together.  

But there was something different about this Sunday, something that left a few butterflies in your stomach where an easy contentment usually belonged. You were nervous, but there was an excitement, too.  

There’d be a new face in attendance.  

A beautiful face.  

A face that you imagined required a double take were you to see it for the first time on a busy street.  

“You’re smiling again there, darling.”

You looked up to find Mrs. Jefferson keeping a careful eye on you from over the top of her reading glasses. She wore a smile upon her face, one that blended into the laugh lines by her eyes. Her hand trembled with a familiar quiver as she reached up and slid the glasses off her nose. They rested comfortably on a purple beaded chain as they hung around her neck.  

“You always have so much going on inside that head of yours,” she quipped, chuckling to herself. She was a slow mover as she turned to the computer to begin typing in her code. “Have you checked out the books for the VA yet?”

“Already done,” you confirmed, your mind still a little in the clouds. Coffee would definitely need to be a requirement before you stepped foot in the VA.  

“Get a move on then,” Mrs. Jefferson said, gesturing to the door with a trembling hand. “I know you like to get donuts for the kids.”

You still had a few minutes left on shift, but Mrs. Jefferson was always so understanding. She had a son who was in the military once who saw about four tours. Always had a habit of going back, she’d said, like he was testing his luck. You weren’t sure how he’d died, but you knew he didn’t have the chance to go back for a fifth.  

She was a part of a group no one wanted to be in: those who have lost someone to war. Membership cost was steep and there was no going back once it was paid. It was a lonely group, one far too many people occupied. Your own membership card was heavy in your pocket.  

You glanced toward the door. The sun was shining bright on the pavement. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

She smiled. “Yes, of course, dear. Tell the boys I said hello.”

“Yes, ma’am!” you called as you gathered your things and the shoulder bag stuffed with books and quickly scurried out the door before another disaster could reel you back inside.  

The sun was warm on your skin and you took a minute to savor it before shoulders started to bump into you, forcing you off balance. You could see your breath in the autumn air, and still, the sun touched your cheeks and left behind a comfort there. Smile on your face, heavy bag draped over your shoulder, you resided to grab coffee and donuts at a café close to the VA before book club started.  

It was one you visited a few times before, right across the street from a painfully busy Starbucks. The quaint coffee shop was often empty inside, save for a few college students with headphones in, typing away at their laptops, and a regular you often saw nursing a black coffee by the front windows, watching the people as they walked by.  

It smelled of coffee beans as you stepped inside. Fresh. Aromatic. You took in a deep breath.  

“Ah, Y/n!” a voice called from the back in a thick Colombian accent. “It’s good to see you again!”

“Hi, Luciana,” you laughed as the woman who owned the shop rounded the corner behind the counter and ran out to give you a hug. She was a tiny woman, short and shout, but her hugs could render even a giant of a man to a puddle.  

“Donuts for your friends down at the VA again?” she asked, releasing you from her embrace, though she still managed to pinch your cheek on the way out.  

“Yes, please!”

“And coffee for yourself?”  

She knew you too well.  

“I could use a bit of a pick-me-up,” you admitted. She knew your order by heart.  

“You should see if that Sam wants to have some good coffee for a change at his next event instead of the bean water he serves our veterans now,” Luciana inquired as she pulled on a pair of gloves and began to stack your box with assorted donuts. She had that smile on her face you recognized well. She asked about Sam a lot.  

“I’ll be sure to get his thoughts,” you replied, trying to stifled a smile.  

“Have him come by,” she offered rather smoothly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen his pretty face and I could use a little pick-me-up myself.”

She winked at you and set the box of donuts on the counter. Then, your coffee; lid pressed on top, cardboard around the edges to protect from heat. You reached for your wallet but she snuck her hand over the counter and grabbed your wrist.  

“No, no, not today, my dear. My treat.”

You parted your lips to protest but she shook her again.  

“Tell those kids to come visit me every once in a while, okay? I’ve got a discount for ‘em,” she offered, bright smile over painted red lips. She waved you off and you knew there was no arguing with her.  

“That’s very kind of you, Luciana. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”  

“So will my business, dear.” There was that wink again.  

You laughed, heading for the door. “I’ll see you next week!”

The bell rang on your way out.  

The VA wasn’t more than a few blocks from Luciana’s, but the bag piled high with books was starting to weigh on your shoulder. It didn’t help that you had to weave expertly between the pedestrians to balance your coffee and the donut box, too; tourists walking about 10 mph too slow and locals stuck in their path with no qualms of shoving you out of their way if you managed to jump in their trajectory.  

As you approached the VA, the crowd began to disperse. There weren’t too many people who frequented this street as there was little more than the VA building itself to occupy the tourists. You were surprised to find a man standing in front of the doors, staring up at the building as if it offended him in some way.  

Dark brown hair tucked under a baseball cap, just barely peeking out at the nape of his neck. Right hand tucked deep into his pocket, rigid in his stance as he stared down the double doors. He was talking to himself, you realized, judging by the soft clouds of chilled air by his mouth.  

James Barnes.

Bucky.

A smile suddenly took over your face, enough that you had to bite down on the edge of your lip in an effort to suppress it. You’d hoped he would come, but Sam had talked about his friend Bucky long before you met him in the empty library of the VA a few days prior. He didn’t say ‘yes’ to much of anything and he seemed to be the sort of soldier that got left behind by the system when he returned home.  

But he was sweet. You could tell that just from the small interaction you’d had. Quiet. A little flustered. Maybe reserved. But he had beautiful eyes; blue, like they could capture even the faintest colors in the sky and the sweep of a current in the Mediterranean. He’d only barely lifted the corner of his lips to a smile that day and it left you wondering how lovely he was when it touched his eyes.  

“Bucky!” you called, moving a little quicker now as you approached, but he didn’t seem to hear you. Still focused on his staring match with the building, it seemed. For a moment, it seemed as though he might be turning to leave and your stomach twisted.  

You were nearly at his side, a little out of breath when you called his name again and it registered this time. Only, it must have startled him because an arm jutted out in your direction, knocking the coffee from your hands. You were too stunned to do much of anything about it as they coffee flung itself to the pavement, the contents spilling to the ground and over your sneakers. You clutched the box of donuts tight to your chest.  

Bucky froze, almost as still as a statue, his eyes focused on the coffee spilled on the sidewalk. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitch and slowly, his eyes drew up to meet yours. He stared at you for a moment, mouth falling agape. His ears were burning red.  

Then, he seemed to come back to reality as he blinked a few times, his eyes darting from the shock on your face to the coffee on the sidewalk.  

“Y/n! Shit—fuck! I am—so sorry,” he started to ramble, his hand reaching out, though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “I didn’t realize you were-- fuck—”

“It’s alright, Bucky,” you tried to ease him, a laugh in your voice. “Don’t worry about it. Probably didn’t need the caffeine anyway.”  

“I should, um,” he looked around desperately, scanning the street for the nearest coffee shop, his hand clenching and releasing at his side in a repetitive squeeze. It was really sort of sweet. “Let me buy you a new one.”

You smiled at him and he softened a bit. “That’s really not necessary.”  

He gritted his teeth as you bent down to pick up the empty cup and shook the excess coffee off your shoes. They were old sneakers anyway and you were looking for a halfway decent excuse to get new ones. Then came a shy ex-soldier barreling in from the sky with a strong aversion to your coffee.  

“I knew this was a bad idea...”  

He was talking to himself, grumbling under his breath, and you realized why he was staring at the building for so long. You took a step closer to him, studying the way his chewed on the inside of his cheek and shoved his right hand into his pocket.  

“Is it?” you asked.

Blue eyes flickered to yours, brows furrowed. He didn’t think you’d heard him. “Sorry?”

You just smiled at him, shaking your head. You’d been working at the VA long enough to recognize the man behind the soldier; one who’d been beaten and bruised and left to waste the second he was dropped back on American soil. Constantly beating himself up, constantly wondering if he was doing the wrong thing and struggling to be the version of himself he was before the war.

“So, James Barnes,” you grinned, “you decide if you’re coming in or not? It’s a little chilly out here. Don’t want you catching a cold.”  

Bucky stared back at you, unsure. But you could see the tension easing off his shoulders. His right hand was hanging back at his side again as his eyes flickered up to the doors again.  

“Come on.” You smiled at him again and you noticed pretty quickly that he softened when you did that. It made your stomach flutter. You took a step forward, hoping he’d follow behind. “There’s shitty coffee inside we can share before book club starts.”  

“I don’t even know what you’re reading,” he admitted, that sweet nervousness taking over again.  

“You don’t need to,” you shrugged and his brow scrunched up again, confused. You glanced back at the doors. “Well, I’m going inside. I hope I see you there.”

With that, you turned and shouldered your way through the doors, donut box clutched tight to your chest. You waited by the entrance until you heard the soft grumble of a graveled voice outside, and then, footsteps as they approached the door.

You smiled.

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 8/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Hange hated it.

She hated it all – the today’s cold early morning, the yesterday’s long, sleepless night, the shitty, overpriced coffee from the airport cafe. She hated the weather that was too cold not to wear a coat and a scarf, but now made her sweat in all the layers of clothing. She hated the uncomfortable chair she was sitting at, hated waiting for so long just to see the needed flight appear on screen. She hated her new case and the sense of urgency it brought along. She hated that she had to work with him to find that missing young girl.

And more than all of that, she hated that sleazy bastard, that Ackerman.

She hated that morning in the hospital, when she found a note and recognized that it was written by the same hand that used to mock her every failure. Everything clicked right there and then, and Hange hated that she felt sad about it. Not angry, not betrayed, but sad. She was hurt, she was miserable, so much so that she actually shed a few tears, feeling like she lost someone she never actually had.

She should have known better, should have not let that happen. She shouldn’t have trusted him, not after just a couple of dates, after a few silly jokes and endearing gestures. But Ackerman, that damned thief, managed to sneak through all of her defenses, he made her think that there was something there, some connection between them. Perhaps, even something special.

Then everything turned out to be a lie, and it left her broken, wondering what she did wrong, when did she become so naive. She threw herself into her work, finding a short respite in it. For long two months that seemed more like a few days, she almost felt at piece, almost managed to convince herself – and everyone else – that she ceased thinking about Ackermans, their case and the man who might or might not even be called Levi. And now she had to work with him.

Hange hated her job sometimes.

She also hated her heart most of the time, especially right now, when it squeezed painfully at the sight of Ackerman’s dark, sullen and so unfairly handsome face.

Despite the large crowd and long corridor that separated them, their eyes still met each other.

Her treacherous heart skipped another beat.

Hange gripped the paper coffee cup as tight as it allowed, forcing herself to school her expression in something more appropriate – cold, detached. Not so heartbroken.

At least, Ackerman had the decency to look ashamed. He lowered his gaze as soon as he saw her, and it gave Hange the time to look over his entire form.

He changed. Ever so slightly, but still noticeable enough for Hange’s keen eyes.

He was more tanned now, not nearly as sickly pale as he was before. The circles under his eyes didn’t disappear though, and so didn’t his stiff posture. There was another change, however - a small cut on his left cheek. It sparked a quick flash of anger for the person responsible. Hange hated herself for that, too.

She shouldn’t care about that, shouldn’t wonder about the person who hurt Levi, shouldn’t wish to hurt them back. These feelings, they irritated Hange. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make them disappear.

“It’s just you here?” Ackerman approached her slowly, his hand gripping the strap of his travelling bag just as tightly as Hange held her coffee cup. She stood up too, straightening to her full height. Ackerman stopped, just a few steps away from her. “I thought you would bring the entire police department to arrest me.”

Hange scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re not that important.”

And there was also that tiny little thing about her not actually having the power to arrest him. Technically, the Ackermans’ case was closed. Technically, Hange had no definitive piece of evidence that she could have used to lock him up.

Technically, Ackerman wasn’t even supposed to be here. And neither was she.

Back at the precinct, no one actually knew about that venture of hers. And they wouldn’t find out about it, not if Hange did everything right.

There were lots of reasons why Hange had to keep Ackerman’s involvement a secret. There was this thing about him being a notorious criminal who escaped justice, but more importantly, there was this little thing about her going on a date with the said criminal. Hange knew that Erwin knew about Levi and his true identity, he never told her that specifically, but when Hange demanded to take her off Ackerman’s case, he didn’t even bat an eye. He also didn’t ask a single question. The absence of his reaction made her wonder just how much he actually knew, and for how long he had that knowledge. Had he known since the beginning? Had he kept quiet just to see where it would lead? And whether she would realize the truth or not?

Hange didn’t have the guts to ask Erwin about that directly, didn’t wish to open that can of worms right now, preferred that it would stay closed for good. They both ignored that mistake of hers, both didn’t dare to bring up Levi or her previous case. And Hange would have liked for it to stay this way forever.

But if Erwin found out that Hange made Ackerman come out of hiding, so he would help her to find the missing Krista Lenz, well… Erwin probably wouldn’t chew her head off, but he definitely would give her a strict, and extremely long verbal reprimanding.

And he would take her off the case, and that… well, Hange already had a case she failed at spectacularly, she didn’t wish for that to become a pattern.

She also wished to find Krista Lenz and save her from whatever peril she found herself in. Hange didn’t know her, had only seen the photos, but that bright smile and those kind blue eyes kept pushing her forward, gave her a reason to not just solve the case, but bring that girl home.

And if she had to work with the damned Ackerman to achieve it, so be it.

“We have a lot of work ahead of us,” she promptly turned away from him, starting a brisk pace and heading to the exit of the airport. She hoped the Ackerman would follow. He did, surprisingly obedient. “Let’s eat before we start.”

***

The diner was nice.

Small but cozy, the interior was made up entirely of combination of blue and white. The tables were clean and adorned with neat, soft tablecloth, the booth he was sitting at was spacious and comfortable, the food was delicious and tea was made just as he liked it, even the music didn’t bother him, a pleasant, quiet melody was playing, adding to the atmosphere.

The diner was nice. His company, however, was not. Levi never thought that someone could eat breakfast so angrily. But every time his and Hange’s gazes met, he was quick to look away, her icy cold stare practically boring into his soul.

Thankfully, while Hange was busy devouring her omelet, she didn’t glance at him even once. She had mentioned that she was starving, and, knowing her work etiquette and seeing that her cheekbones became slightly more pronounced, Levi was inclined to think that her backhanded remark wasn’t just a figure of speech.

Watching her eat made Levi wonder what would happen if he ordered her a desert. Would Hange punch him or simply annihilate him with her glare?

Honestly, Levi was surprised she hadn’t punched him the moment she had seen him in the airport. He was also immensely surprised that he was having breakfast in a diner and not on his way to the prison.

During the phone call, Hange said that she wasn’t going to arrest him, but still, he would have liked to ask more about it. However, breaching that subject with Hange looking so furious didn’t seem like a great idea. He was walking on a thin ice as it was.

But even so, the tense silence was swiftly becoming unbearable, and Levi raked his brain for a topic of conversation, something safe and unassuming, the kind of talk that wouldn’t earn him a kick to his face.

“So how did you find me?”

Not the best way to start, Levi realized that as soon as the question tumbled out of his mouth. He cringed, thinking if he should just take his words back. But it was already too late.

Hange put the fork down and looked at him. With her eyebrows furrowed like that, she looked too much like her Captain, that annoying Erwin Smith. She wasn’t nearly as annoying, though. And, in Levi’s humble opinion, she was much handsomer than her mentor.

“It wasn’t that hard,” Hange said, as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. Some gravy remained at the side of her lips, but Levi wasn’t sure if he should point that out. He would have liked to wipe it out himself, he remembered doing exactly that during one of their dates, which felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. He would have liked to repeat that simple gesture. Then again, Hange probably wouldn’t have liked if he did that. “I guessed that you left the city on the night when…” something in her expression shifted, her face became less guarded. But Hange blinked and it was gone, the same stone mask returning. She cleared her throat and continued, “when we spoke for the last time. Since I knew when you left, it was only a matter of looking at the camera recording from the airport and finding which flight you took. Then I requested some security viewings from the city you were hiding at, and… here you are.”

Hange made it sound so simple, Levi almost believed that it actually was. Her exhausted face told another story, though. Levi could only imagine how long it took her to find him. She must be at her wit’s end, if she went through all of this just to get his help.

“What do you need me for then?”

Hange reached to her bag, opening and rummaging through it. When she was finished, she took out the case file and handed it to him.

“This is Krista Lenz, a college student who had disappeared a week ago,” Levi opened the case file, young blonde girl with impossibly bright eyes stared at him from the first page. “Do you recognize her?”

Levi looked at the photo for another second, just to be sure. But the girl on the photo stirred nothing in him. No vague memory, no sort of recollection. The name didn’t sound familiar, and if he had ever met the girl, it could only be in passing, as both of them, perhaps, walked beside each other on the same sidewalk. But that was the extent of it. Whoever this girl was, Levi did not know her.

He said the very thing to Hange, as he closed and pushed the case file back to her.

Hange pushed it back to him. “Well, too bad that you don’t know her. Because your uncle is the one who kidnapped her.”

Levi was very grateful for his extreme talent at keeping his face straight, because mentally his jaw was somewhere near the fucking floor. Externally, however, he didn’t let a single muscle on his face twitch.

With more self-restraint that he thought was capable of, he lifted an eyebrow, and asked, “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve heard me,” Hange opened the case file for him and flicked through a couple of pages. “We searched Krista’s room and found a few letters, written by some Kenny the Reaper. Sounds familiar to you?”

More familiar than Hange thought. Of course, Levi knew Kenny the Reaper, back when he was a brat, his uncle used to tell tales of the Reaper, scary, blood-curling stories about the tall man in a long dusty black coat, who lived across the tracks. Kenny said the man’s hands were constantly covered in red and he always smelled of metal and copper. Kenny said the Reaper would come and take him, if Levi continued acting like a pathetic, whiny brat. Stories about the Reaper used to terrify the shit out of him, especially during the nights, when Kenny turned off the lights and storm was raging outside.

After his mother died, and Levi was spending his days in bed, crying himself to sleep, the stories about Kenny the Reaper reached their peak.

Kenny the Reaper would whisk you away at night if you don’t eat the soup, Kenny the Reaper would stand above your bed during the night if you don’t go to sleep, Kenny the Reaper would bath you in your own blood, if you don’t change your dirty clothes, Kenny the Reaper would come and eat your heart in front of you, if you don’t stop crying.

During those horrible, grief-filled days, only the fear of Kenny the Reaper was able to stop Levi from wallowing in his own misery.

Kenny wasn’t the best parent, wasn’t truly made for it, but, surprisingly, some of his methods, as cruel as they were, actually worked on Levi.

But he stopped with the silly stories once Levi became a teenager and they ceased having an effect on him.

Then why did Kenny the Reaper return? Why did he write letters to a young girl, who had disappeared? Could it really be that his uncle was the culprit?

Levi looked down at the case file, where a picture of the Reaper’s note was attached. All doubts disappeared from his mind. It was Kenny’s handwriting, the same messy, barely incomprehensible scribblings. But how did they appear inside the missing girl’s room? And why did Kenny write them in the first place?

He looked at note more closely, squinting to read it.

I have something you might want to look at it, little Missy. Come to the tracks tonight, or Kenny the Ripper will take you away by force.

Levi stared at the note for another moment, struggling to comprehend. It looked like… utter gibberish.

“So?” Hange lifted the cup to her lips, watching him over its rim. “Was my hunch correct? Is it really your uncle’s doing?”

It was just a hunch, but Hange had him located and brought back into the city simply to check if she was right? Either she was that confident in her theory, or… she was that desperate.

“It’s his handwriting,” he told her. “This note was definitely written by him.”

But did Kenny kidnap some girl? Levi didn’t know if that was possible. Why would his uncle even do that? What shitty trouble was he involved in this time? What was going on in the city during the two months that he was away? What Kenny was up to during that time? What was he up to right now?

It seemed like Levi certainly had missed a lot. He had to catch up to it all, and quickly. Perhaps, Hange would be able to help him.

“I don’t think Kenny had taken that girl,” Levi wasn’t sure if his uncle was even capable of that. Sure, he did some nasty things, but always for a reason. And what possible reason could he have to kidnap a young girl? “Did you receive a ransom after her disappearance?”

“No. There is utter silence after Krista went missing. I thought about your uncle only because I’ve remembered you mentioning that his name was Kenny. Decided this theory was worth pursuing.”

Levi didn’t even know he said it, but Hange remembered it? This small detail probably shouldn’t have made him feel so warm inside.

She’s a detective, it’s her job to pick up and remember stuff, he told himself. His heart refused to listen.

“I’m willing to help you find him,” he said to Hange, shaking his head to get rid of useless thoughts. He had a more pressing matter right now. For example, why the fuck his uncle decided to kidnap someone. Finding an answer to this question was his priority. Levi just had to remember that.

“Oh,” Hange waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t really have a choice in that. I need you to help me, Ackerman. And since your apartment was abandoned a little over a week ago, just as Krista went missing, I think it’s a good place to start our investigation.”

Hange knew where his apartment was located? This was hardly surprising, considering that she managed to find him in another city, but still… Her detective skills were brilliant.

Hange waved over the waitress, asking for a bill. As soon as she paid, she stood up. Levi quickly followed her suit.

“My apartment is on the other side of town,” he began, as he fell into step with Hange. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to escape?”

“Want me to handcuff you, Ackerman? Didn’t know you were so kinky,” surprisingly, Hange grinned. But the merry expression didn’t stay for long. The serious detective face returned almost immediately. “If you really think about escaping, my advice to you – don’t. I found you in another city on the other side of the world. How long do you think it would take me to find you here?”

Well, point was certainly taken. No more jokes and attempts at flirting. Hange was definitely not in the mood for this. Levi would have liked to blame it on her case, but he wasn’t that naïve and he was never that good at fooling himself. Hange hated him now, and there was nothing surprising about it. He knew it was going to come to this. He thought he was prepared.

But the bitter taste in his mouth, the giant, crushing weight in his chest – that he wasn’t ready for.

“It’ll be easier to get to my apartment by the subway,” he said, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Come on, I’ll lead the way.”

He wanted Hange to throw some stupid joke or a lame one-liner, say at least something. Instead, she followed after him without a single word.

Levi's disappointment was unmeasurable.

***

Hange didn’t know how exactly she pictured the apartment of two notorious thieves to look like, but she certainly didn’t expect the Ackermans’ den to look so… normal.

No secret traps, no hidden treasures, no weaponry hanging on the wall, there was nothing that could even hint at the possibility that the two men that were living there were criminals.

The apartment was relatively small, with only two bedrooms and a kitchen. It also wasn’t as spartan as Hange would have imagined it to be. There were pictures – but not photos – hanging on the walls, house plants that stood on windowsills, a bookshelf filled with books, curtains that fluttered from the wind coming from the open windows.

All of it was so mundane and cozy… Hange didn’t quite know what to make of it.

However, she had to admit, she was not only surprised, but a little disappointed too. She didn’t know what to expect from Ackermans’ apartment, but she had her ideas of what Levi’s apartment would look like. She pictured a neat, pristine place with spotless floors and shining cutlery.

But in reality, the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, the kitchen was filled with empty pizza boxes and bottles of beer, clothes were lying in the piles on the floor, dust was flying in the air.

Did the great clean freak Levi really live there? Or was that side of Levi’s persona just another lie?

“Fucking Kenny,” Ackerman mumbled under his breath, his scowl as fierce as ever. “I was gone for two months and he already turned into a pig.”

Oh. So that wasn’t part of an act? Hange was actually relieved to hear it. Enough to chuckle and say, “The obsession with cleanliness doesn’t run in the family?”

Ackerman turned from glaring at the dark stain on the kitchen table to look at her. His mouth twitched, as their eyes met. “Kenny is just a horrible exception.”

And there it was. For no longer than a single moment, but something had ignited, some sort of connection, recognition deep within her, the feeling of belonging. It was the same feeling she had whenever she was with Levi before.

But it wasn’t Levi, she reminded herself strictly. It wasn’t Levi, the awkward, endearing man she stumbled upon one evening. It was Ackerman, a thief who consciously played with her feelings, who lied to her and fooled her into believing he was someone else.

But Hange knew who he was now. She wouldn’t let him fool her anymore.

She looked away from him, her expression turning sourer. Possibly sensing her foul mood, Ackerman turned away too, his frown deepening.

“What exactly you expect to find here?” he asked. “I thought you guys had already searched our house.”

“No. I didn’t want to bother with getting a search warrant.”

She didn’t want to, and she couldn’t. If she came to Erwin, asking for a search warrant for the Ackermans’ apartment, because she suspected that one of Ackermans was involved in her new case, Erwin would call off the case right that instant. He’d say that she was too emotionally compromised, that she couldn’t think straight and had an unhealthy obsession with Ackermans’ case.

Erwin wouldn’t have listened to her theory, wouldn’t have let her continue working. And Hange couldn’t let go of this case, couldn't allow someone from Nile’s team to start searching for the missing Krista Lenz. After all, there was a reason why Erwin gave that case specifically to her. She was driven, endlessly dedicated to her work, Erwin knew she wouldn’t stop before Krista Lenz was found and safely returned to her old life.

And Hange couldn’t let Krista’s safety be compromised, because of some search warrant she didn’t even need. She came here with the owner of the apartment, right? Technically, she got inside without breaking any laws. Except she was working with a criminal, but then again, no one could prove that Ackerman was a criminal. Hange would have to work on that after she brought Krista home.

“So what is it that you hope to find here?” Ackerman repeated his question. “I doubt your missing girl is hidden inside my closet.”

Hange rolled her eyes at the obvious sarcasm. Ackerman didn’t believe her, but she didn’t really need him to. He could believe that his uncle was innocent, that it was some big misunderstanding or whatever lie he created for himself. She didn’t need Ackerman to share her suspicions, she just needed him to help her find Kenny Ackerman.

That was the primary and only reason for his involvement.

“Let’s start with his room then,” Hange said. “Even if Krista isn’t there, perhaps, we’ll be able to find something of use anyway.”

“Well, you’re the boss here,” Ackerman scoffed.

With hands shoved deep into his pockets, Ackerman led her out of the kitchen and into a short hallway. As they walked, they passed a room that had a slightly ajar door. Curious, Hange popped her head inside. In contrast to the rest of the house, that room was tidy. It didn’t take a detective to realize that it was Levi’s room. On a wardrobe beside the bed, there was a blue shirt hanging. Hange recognize it as the same shirt Levi wore to their so-called first date. The shirt was nice, she remembered thinking that it brought Levi’s eyes.

Hange wanted to rip it into pieces.

She kicked the door closed with her foot, ignoring Ackerman’s wide-eyed stare. “Let’s just get it over with,” she grumbled, beyond frustrated.

Thankfully, Ackerman didn’t comment and silently led her to his uncle’s room.

Inside, it was even messier than in the rest of the apartment. Papers were scattered around, empty glasses and plates were littering the floor, the bed was unmade, the blanket and pillow missing from it. The state of the room was even worse than the mess inside Hange’s apartment, even during her bad days. It was dark too, the heavy brown curtains blocking the sunlight from outside entirely.

Honestly, it looked a little too creepy for Hange’s taste. Like the room of a madman. A madman who had kidnapped a young girl. A madman, who without hesitation had killed an innocent man and had almost killed her. Hange felt a shiver ran through her spine at that thought.

“Are you sure that your guys didn’t search the house?” Ackerman’s gruff voice brought her to the present.

“You think that someone broke in?”

“Possibly,” Ackerman nodded. “Either someone broke in, or Kenny just lost his mind.”

“And which one is more probable?”

Ackerman shrugged. “I’d say fifty-fifty.”

“Cool,” she rubbed her temples, feeling a migraine coming. “Amazing. Just awesome.” So she wasn’t only looking for a cruel criminal, but apparently he could be crazy as well. And she thought this case couldn’t get any worse. “Let’s start looking for clues then. Before your uncle arrives and decapitates me or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ackerman chided. “He won’t decapitate you. Just slash your throat.”

His dry delivery and his deadpan face made it hard for Hange to understand whether he was joking or not. She hoped he was. She liked her throat, and didn’t want it to be slashed.

“I’ll take the left part of the room,” she announced to Ackerman, immediately getting to work. The sooner they finish here, the lesser were chances of having her throat slashed. Probably.

As Hange kneeled on the floor, looking through papers scattered there, she couldn’t help but look around the room. And as she took a good look at it, she couldn’t help but wonder…

“Why are you doing this?” she asked Ackerman.

He threw her a dark look. “By this you mean…”

“Why do you keep doing this?” she gestured around, “Stealing things, being criminals. You have enough as it is. Why not start doing honest work?”

“We’re stealing from rich assholes. You can hardly call it a crime.”

“Oh, I get it now,” Hange rolled her eyes. “Once a thief forever a thief, right?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Ackerman said curtly.

“And why not? Because I’m a cop?”

“Because you’re a cop, dressed in a coat that no cop should be able to afford.”

Affronted, Hange scowled at him. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“That you grew up rich. That you don’t know what poverty or need is. That you have no idea that sometimes,” his eyes flashed, a deep-seated anger coming to surface. Hange wondered if all of it was directed on her alone. “Honest work isn’t enough.”

Logically, Hange knew it was her cue to back away. But she was riled up already, she was exhausted and frustrated. She was also annoyed that Ackerman had figured her out so easily. So instead of shutting up like she should have to, she kept challenging him. “And when exactly honest work isn’t enough?”

“When your mother dies because you can’t pay her medical bills.”

Ackerman spoke quietly, calmly. His tone wasn’t angry or accusing. He didn’t even sound hurt. But Hange felt like the most disgusting piece of shit. Shame cursed through her, as she struggled to find her words, to apologize or— do something rathan than stare helplessly at him.

“Let’s get back to work,” he said, ending the heavy silence.

Hange nodded numbly, scooping a bunch of papers in her hands. She briefly glanced at them, but nothing seemed to hold any importance. There were some bills, checks, half-finished plans, written so messily Hange could barely decipher most of the words. There was nothing that could link Kenny Ackerman to the disappearance of Krista Lenz. Still, Hange persisted, forcing her thoughts to focus on the case, and not on the argument that had transpired moments ago.

It seemed stupid, ridiculous, she was so angry with Ackerman, but now she felt ashamed of her careless words. She was ashamed of being so naïve, so privileged. She knew she was lucky, luckier than most to be born in a wealthy family and have access to everything she needed or wanted. Not everyone was as fortunate as her, and some of people ended up just as Ackermans – driven to the life of crime by poverty and desperation. After all, most of the criminals didn’t choose this way of living, but Hange had forgotten about that. She let her single-minded determination cloud her perception and abandon her principals and initial reason for joining the force.

So fixed on catching criminals, she had forgotten that she wanted to help people, including those, who were lost or didn’t know better.

Hange felt the need to apologize to Ackerman. He was an asshole in his own right, but her cruelty and prejudice was uncalled for. She was better than this. At least, she hoped so.

So lost in her own thoughts, Hange missed the moment when Ackerman had moved from his kneeling position on the floor. Now he stood next to a long desk, gazing at it skeptically.

“If there is something worthy in this pile of shit, it’s gotta be here,” he explained to the confused Hange.

Still sitting on a floor, she watched how Ackerman opened the lowest drawer of the desk, throwing everything that was inside on the floor. More papers fell out. Once the drawer was empty, Ackerman pressed on something inside and revealed a hidden bottom drawer.

A secret compartment! Hange jumped to his side.

He was already shifting through the documents he found inside, his face as bored as ever. “Shit, I think there is nothing important her—”

“Wait!” Hange yelled, yanking a photo from between his fingers. Her eyes wide and mouth open, she stared at it. She knew that face, that face was staring accusingly at her for a whole week now, pushing Hange to find its owner. Linked to that photo was a birth certificate, and it bewildered Hange even more.

“What is it?” Ackerman rose on tiptoes, looking over her shoulder. “Did you find something?”

“I guess I did,” Hange slowly nodded, her eyes still glued to the photo and the document. “It appears we’ve been wrong. We aren’t looking for Krista Lenz. We’re searching for Historia.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Patient 0″

I finally had a day where I was motivated to write something! :) yay, hopefully I am getting back into my stride. I hope you all enjoy!

Dr. Kell examined the brown soil before him, and the little red plants that sprouted up around it. There was definitely something important here, something that the others definitely didn’t know about. The thought made him almost giddy with anticipation as he took samples and began to bag them in little clear tubes with bright labels on the side.

He had been teaching for as long as he could remember, a geologist in the fourth city of the Vrul inner ring, and in all that time he had neer once received a commendation for his work. The thought made him bitter as he plunged the little digging tool into the soil for another sample. Years and years of hard work and not once had it ever been acknowledged. That was because the Vrul didn’t value teachers like they should. They only valued those people who made important discoveries. 

When he had originally approached the head of their college in an effort to remind him what kind of important work he did, sure that they had just forgotten, though the reaction he had received was one of derision and even derisive laughter.

You’re a teacher not a researcher. They don’t make medals for mediocrity.

The thought made his antenna tremor in absolute rage.

The nerve.

He was not mediocre.

Ok granted, everyone on this planet had a doctoral level knowledge of their specific field, but that didn’t mean that his contributions weren’t important! He had even heard rumors that he was being considered for termination! The thought scared him, and so he had gone out to do something no Vrul had ever done before.

He had walked out of the city wall and taken a transport out into the surrounding countryside.

It seemed strange, the wall was very thick, and the ground around it was shored up with concrete and a very thick foundation. 

 The outside of the wall was very smooth.

He knew that they kept the wall there to keep the wildlife out or something…. But as a geologist he knew that a wall twenty feet deep was a little bit overkill, and forty feet high? No known animal species on their planet was dangerous over about ten feet.

But he just rattled his antenna and kept going.

Bitter about his situation.

Not everyone could be some great genius about a subject, not everyone would have opportunities to do stupid irrational things. Not everyone was like the “legendary Dr. Krill” and his stupid and useless papers about humans. 

He huffed, yeah dr. Krill, some doctor. Mister SO important that the council had a termination order out for him, and not for the same reason there was a termination order out for Kell. Apparently the population wasn’t ready for what Dr. Krill was spouting off, apparently it was TOO revolutionary, and threatened to change the social fabric of the Vrul nation.

Yeah right.

Like some paper on a two legged snot nosed carnivore was nearly as important as the study of the very earth beneath them.

It was ridiculous.

Outrageous.

He was the one who deserved some real recognition, and not that Dr. Krill.

He had seen the pompous little creature speak once at some sort of medical conference he had been forced to attend during his younger years, and he honestly thought the little creature was a self important, pompous little lecturer.

Yet no one else seemed to have seen it.

Everyone else was fascinated with his work, and though they thought his bravery was strange and overdone, they still admired him!

Yes, “admired” him, a complete and total nutcase braggart with an inflated sense of self importance, and the audacity to refuse his termination order, the nerve of him.

And now here he was standing under the hot sun of mid morning on dirt that no one had stood on in over a thousand years.

The council said that the city walls were for their protection, and no one ever questioned leaving their walls. It wasn’t illegal or anything but most Vrul had a survival instinct so intense it verged on cowardice. Generally he himself would be in that category, but his anger and obsession had driven him to take a step outside the city.

Looking at the ground, and examining the local wildlife, he honestly couldn't see why they had needed to build a city with such intense fortifications. The largest animal he saw was a surprisingly vrul-like creature with eight stumpy legs slowly trundling through the undergrowth.

WHen it made it to a nearby patch of sun, it opened up a large fan on it’s back and hunkered down to sit and soak in the radiation.

Nothing inherently scary.

He wasn’t even sure why the outside of the city had bothered him so much.

His confidence grew as he kept walking.

Maybe he would talk to the council about that at a later date, tell them about his time outside the cities and let them know how safe it was. Maybe then HE would be the one changing things, maybe then HIS name would be something important to be remembered. Imagine that, Dr. Krill, coming home and expecting the cities to be walled off, but instead find spreading metropolises like there were on his precious Earth, and not because KRILL said anything, but in fact, because Dr. Kell had been the only one brave enough to walk outside their own city walls.

Wouldn’t that be the ticket.

He stepped into a thicket of bushes and trees. They weren’t much taller than he was, about six feet in height maybe, but they still provided him with some shade as he worked. THey had large transparent orange orbs on the end of their branches, full to the brim with hydrogen. That was one thing that might be a little bit dangerous out here…. The trees had the potential to explode.

He would have to keep that in mind.

Still, the way the light filtered down through the orange orbs and fell on the ground below him was quite something to behold leaving behind a dazzling array of glowing orange spots to create an ethereal and delicate pattern over the little thicket floor.

Working here would be fine for the moment.

He set down his case of tools in a little clearing in the middle examining the dirt and placing it away in test tubes. The dirt was pretty cracked and rather dry, most of the planet’s water being stored in underground aqueducts which the Vrul had been smart enough to tap into. This was the equator of the planet after all, and their climate tended towards desert, though it wasn’t nearly as extreme as the Rundi home planet. He could see most of that from the dirt that he picked up, dirt that hadn’t seen water in a very long time.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched a few creatures pass outside his little thicket of trees, though they tended to avoid him, skirting around the edge of the trees and not daring to venture in.

He didn’t see himself as much of a threat to them, but he was glad anyway. The last thing he needed was an encounter with some kind of animal.

He moved his case, feeling the vibration over the ground as he did so.

He put a small slide under his travel microscope and found there to be an unusual amount of organic matter in the soil. Not in the way of worms or bugs or some other small creature but…. Animal matter it looked like. He couldn’t really distinguish what kind of creature it had been before it began decomposing but, there was something, strange about it. He took another sample of dirt, his little collection tool piercing through the top soil and sending a wave though the ground.

He looked at another sample.

That all seemed very strange. The ground her was very fertile, and surrounded in these strange trees, but for some reason, no trees were growing here? He couldn’t see why not, the seeds would generally fall here, and there was enough sunlight coming into the clearing  that it would be a perfect location for growing.

Overhead, a flock of kinlits took to the air squalling.

He heard a high pitched chirp, and turned to look as a few passing animals turned on their tails and ran off across the ground.

Dr. kell stared in confusion, not sure what to think.

And then the soil below him began to vibrate.

He looked down in shock and surprise stepping back from his work as the soil below him began to churn.

Fear overtook him, and he turned to go in the other direction, back to his transport, but no…. He needed his equipment.

He hurried forward and began to gather up his things as the ground before him continued to churn. 

And then that churning set off more rumbling and more churning right next to it, until the entire clearing was unstable. 

He tried to step away but as he did, something shot up out of the dirt and grabbed at his leg. He screamed high and shrill, dropping his case again, which thudded softly on the mulched earth.

He dragged his foot away from what looked like a hand!

The hand continued to wave and wille in the air, grasping for him, as it slowly emerged from the soil below.

He staggered back as, all around him, hands began bursting from the soil and into the air.

THe first hand that had appeared had now clawed its way far enough out that kell could see the joint of an elbow. The hand was grey and covered in dirt, and as kell watched, a shoulder broke through, followed by a head.

He was frozen in shock and fear at the tree line as the creature heaved itself from the dirt.

It…. it was a DELTA, or at least it looked like one, with four thick legs and a set of just two arms. The creature was big, almost a foot taller than he was and very heavy around the torso. It lurched forward over the ground it’s feet not used to walking. It lifted it’s head, and its eyes were a strange glassy white. Little yellow bulbs, like pockets of infection under its skin pulsed in the morning light.

It’s head turned and then stopped locked on to Dr. kell.

They stood there staring at each other for a long moment before it jolted forward, rushing towards him at incredible speed. Dr. Kell screamed, turned and ran. He had never ever tried to run a day in his life, and his legs soon got caught up in each other, he pitched to the ground listening to the thudding of scuttling feet behind him on the cracked earth. In a panic he inflated his helium sack, and shot into the air just as the creature reached for him.

He floated upwards but was stopped in the upper branches of the tree, maybe only nine feet into the air his feet dangling only two feet over the clutching fingers of the THING.

It’s grasping fingers clasped at his feet.

Kell continued to scream, though no one could hear him and those fingers still clasped at him. The creature did not speak, and the white overlay of its eyes made it clear the thing couldn't see either, but it knew exactly where he was.

Slowly a few more of its brethren began to filter in from the trees clustering together below Kell as his screamed and screamed, but then when his screaming intensified one of the creatures began trying to climb up the back of another. It’s fingertips brushed the bottom of his feet and he screamed even louder, clawing his way through the branches of the trees and towards the clearing where his communicator was.

If he could get back he could call for help.

Behind him the strange pile of creatures flopped back to the ground and slowly began to follow him through the trees.

He was almost to the clearing when.

Something snagged against his Helium sack.

There was a sharp pinprick of pain, and then.

He slowly began to sink.

Cold hands reached up for him as he flailed and kicked desperately trying to plug the hole that had been torn in his helium sack, but it was too late.

Hands clasped his feet and pulled him downwards. 

***

The Betas stood on the wall staring out at the open plane that ran for distant miles in every direction. Everyday they stood here from morning until night when their shift ended, and every day there was nothing to see. The Alphas thought it was ok to leave them up here in boredom, even despite them having cognitive abilities enough to do more meaningful tasks.

Most of them were bitter about it, but the Alphas were smarter than them, and had turned back every attempt at making some sort of fair arrangement.

So they were mostly negligent in their duties. 

It’s not like anything happened here anyway.

There was a visiting Alpha today, walking the walls with them. They were pretty sure this one was some kind of psychologist, and was likely looking for signs of mental distress in their demeanor. He was alright as far as Alpha’s went, he talked to them like they were intelligent beings and asked how they were, which is more than they expected from most visiting Alphas.

“Anything of note this morning?” The psychologist asked.

They shook their heads, “No, well accept for that professor.”

“Professor?”

Yeah, guy dropped down over the wall and took a transport into the middle of nowhere.”

“You didn’t stop him?”

“Leaving the city is ill advised but not illegal.” They pointed out, and the Alpha just nodded. It was a strange bodily expression, which demonstrated that this particular Vrul had spent some time with humans, how much time that had been was questionable, but they had still managed to rub off on him.

Humans tended to do that.

Looking out into the desert, the Alpha stopped, “hey, isn’t that him?”

The turned to look over the wall.

Well it did seem to be true, though he appeared to be walking rather than using the transport, and the couldnt be sure, but from this distance, it didn’t appear that he was carrying his case either.

How strange.

The alpha moved forward a little bit to watch him as he approached, perplexed and unsure what he was looking at.

Even the alphas could see that something was…. wrong . The way he moved was ungainly almost disjointed, and he stumbled from side to side in a manner of confusion. As he got closer, they noted the clear fluid glistening on his shoulders.

The Vrul equivalent to blood.

Sweet Nebulon the Alpha said, and then inflated his Helium sack, floating over the side of the wall and slowly lowering himself to the ground to intercept the staggering form.

He grabbed the doctor by the shoulders, “Dr. kell, are you alright, Dr. Kell?”

The head jerked up, and Dr. Kell stared at him with glassy and confused eyes. Looking up the psychologist watched as five more forms appeared on the horizon. Something about them seemed very wrong.

“HELP US UP.” He ordered, and a small platform was lowered down to them. He hurried the catatonic Dr. Kell onto the platform and they rose into the air just as the forms solidified themselves on the horizon.

Dark grey, glass white eyes, and the lumbering forms of Deltas.

“What in the hell.” The psychologist muttered not noticing his use of the human language as the creatures clustered at the base of the wall looking up towards them with wide white eyes.

“What the hell are those things.”

“I don’t know.” he said, “But call for a doctor, and an isolation unit.” He stepped back from Dr. Kell who stood wobbly at the center of the platform staring out into space with glassy eyes.

***

“What did I tell you!”

“I know-”

“What did I tell you!”

“I know, I know, but in my defence, it was an underwater plant.”

“It WaS aN UndERwAteR PlaNt.” 

Krill looked up at the Admiral with an expression of derision and scolding, “Have you BEEN to EARTh at any point, sea urchins, coral reefs, poisonous fish, what made you think that touching an UNDERWATER alien plant was going to be any different. You big, stupid idiot! 

The big stupid idiot in question just sighed and gave up on his argument. He wasn’t going to win this one and he knew it. Krill turned back town to the human’s swollen hand, skin stretched glistening and red over joints that had swelled up to twice their normal size. Looked like some sort of contact allergic reaction, and luckily it hadn’t spread to the human’s body while he was underwater.

The sheer stupidity.

Though a  little medicine would do him just fine.

He pulled up the sleeve of the human’s shirt and depressed the plunger on the syringe with great malice.

The human winced, but krill thought it was only fair.

“You moron.” He muttered

Admiral Vir rubbed his arm with his good hand, “Ouch, vicious little creature.”

From where she leaned against the wall, Sunny looking up from examining her knife, “You are kind of an idiot.”

“Thank you Sunny, that is very helpful of you.” he muttered

Krill turned back and was about to finish with his lecture, when there was a sudden pinging on his implant. He had gotten one only a few months ago, and had found it to be relativity more convenient than taking calls in his office.

He held up a hand to the other two as he took the call.

“Dr. Krill here.”

“The council requests your presence urgently.”

Krill frowned, “I do not deal with the council. You know how I feel about my termination order.

“Your termination order has been dissolved. We need our help immediately. Bring the humans.”

“Bring the humans?” He was a bit shocked at that,. The council was not particularly a great fan of humans, but this seemed rather serious, and he knew if anything were to happen to him they would have hell to pay.

And they weren’t that stupid.

He turned to look at the other two who stared at him very curious.

“Admiral, I think the Vrul homeworld is in need of our help.”

The Admiral nodded and stood holding his swollen hand to his chest, “Very well, i will go make the roder.”

Krill nodded and watched him go.

He wondered what this could be all about.

[twilightofficial]

Hand-Carved Heart

Pt. 2 of this post

They found it by accident one day a few months after their search began; they had stopped a couple miles into their hike through a new part of the woods to rest and admire the small waterfall they had come upon. Bella sat on a large  boulder to catch her breath and to rub some of the tightness out of her legs, Jacob of course was looking for a way to get up to the top of the waterfall. She cautioned him to not try and use some sketchy looking vine as a climbing rope and he tossed back a joke about her being the klutz in this relationship. Bella’s responding laughter had come so easily. 

She could still remember how heavy she used to feel all the time having to put forth so much effort into thinking about every reaction, giving just enough of a smile so people wouldn’t worry. Then Jacob came along with his warmth and his crooked grin that made her feel lighter than air, only the feel of his hand in hers or the deep vibrato of his voice kept her feet safely planted on the ground. Being with him just felt as simple and easy as breathing. 

After the soreness in her calves was mostly gone she joined him at the edge of the waterfall, it really wasn’t very large, only about 15-20 feet and with Jacob’s tall stature he wouldn’t have any trouble making his way to the top. Still that didn’t stop Bella from worrying, but because of her disregard for her own personal safety a few months prior she kept her worries to herself and instead began skimming her hand along the wall of green that crept up the cliff-face. The light scrape of rock and leaves against her hand was a decent enough distraction until her hand fell through a gap. 

Weird. She thought to herself, curiosity bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She pushed aside a mass of greenery to peer through it, and there tucked neatly behind the wall of trees and bushes was a beautiful moss covered clearing. It was small, only about 6 feet in diameter, and the densely packed trees lining the perimeter provided a canopy of leaves above that sprinkled the light across the ground through the small gaps between the branches. A thick layer of moss covered every inch of the ground including what appeared to be the fallen trunk of a large tree. It was everything they had been looking for. She called Jake over so they could venture in together. 

They made their way through the foliage into the center of the glade, both with large smiles spread across their faces. The vivid green that coated every bit of the clearing had made it feel so bright and alive, even with the shade provided by the canopy above. They couldn’t believe they had found a place so perfect to call their own. 

Jacob pulled out the map and marked the location of the waterfall with a small heart as Bella cleared a portion of moss off the bark of the fallen tree so she could sit down. As she brushed away the moss an odd mark on the log caught her eye, a heart with two initials and a date was carved deeply into the wood. She smiled and called out that it looked like someone else had already beaten them to this little love-nest. Intrigued, he came to look at what she was talking about. When he saw what was carved into the wood his face paled and tears welled up in the corner of his dark brown eyes. BB+SW 1975 was marked into the bark, clearly having been carved over repeatedly to set it so deeply that even after so many years it remained. 

Bella rubbed at his back confused at his reaction, but knowing that once he calmed down he would tell her. For now she would just comfort him in anyway he needed like he had always done for her. It was her turn to be his rock to lean on and she was determined to be as strong and sure as he had always been even though it killed her to see him so clearly in pain. She drew idle circles into his back and the slow drag of her hand made it easier for Jacob to slow his breathing and steady himself. After several minutes he finally stopped tracing the outline and turned to look back at Bella. This was where my dad asked my mom to be his girlfriend… Bella was stunned, not expecting that to be the reason. She remained quiet though, letting Jacob tell the story at his own pace.

When I was little, I always asked my mom to tell me about their first date as a bedtime story. They were in high school, she was a year younger than him, but they had been friends since they were kids. My dad had finally gotten the courage to ask her out, though she had no clue it was a date because he had acted so nonchalant about it. I asked him about that later and he said he was just trying to act cool because he was so nervous. Jacob chuckled softly and shook his head. 

When she showed up and he told her they were going on a hike through the woods she was certain that she would just have to try her best and get over her crush on him. Then dad led her to a beautiful waterfall, and next to it under a large tree he had laid out a picnic blanket held down with a basket filled with new art supplies for her. When she turned to look back at him he was holding a slightly crushed bouquet of hand picked wildflowers that he had apparently been carrying in his bag the whole time. He smiled wistfully, remembering the way his mother’s face lit up when she told this story. 

She said it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her, and when he asked her to be his girlfriend she answered by finding a sharp rock and carving their initials and the year into the tree they had been laying under. Every time they came back here they would go over it so it would never fade…  I guess the tree finally fell over and new plants grew in its place, hiding it away… I can’t believe we found this place Bells, I-I never even thought to look for it, thought it would be too sad…

Jacob leaned into Bella’s side and she wrapped her arms around him. That was the most she had ever heard him talk about his mom, she never wanted to pry by asking for more whenever Sarah was mentioned in conversation by either Charlie or Billy. Though she did have a faint memory of her from her visits as a child, a beautiful woman with deep set lines around her mouth from the toothy and slightly slanted grin she always seemed to wear. Jacob had that same smile. 

He finally lifted his head from her chest and Bella wiped the remnants of tears from his cheeks. He offered her a faint smile as a thank you and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. They sat in silence for a couple more minutes before Jacob spoke again, saying that finding this spot felt like fate, like his mom was looking down on him and giving them her blessing. Bella blinked away a tear at that and nodded, promising that they could come back here whenever he wanted. 

The next time they came to the little clearing hidden away from the world, Jacob brought some of his carving knives to make something to bring back for his dad and Bella brought one of her favorite books to read. They sat in the calm of the forest, her back against the trunk of the tree with Jacob sitting next to her whittling away at a chunk of wood, the rush of water and the rustling of leaves as the wind blew keeping them company. 

They stayed for several hours, occasionally taking a break from their respective activities to kiss lazily, sometimes Bella would read aloud as Jacob carved. When the sun began to set they packed up their belongings, as they were about to leave Jacob paused and turned back to the tree, he pulled out one of his carving knives and added their initials right next to his parents. Bella pulled him into a tight hug, she couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to love this boy and have him love her back. 

When Bella first moved to Forks she couldn't stand how green everything was, she was so accustomed to the brown desert of Arizona that the emerald colored town was like an assault on her eyes. It was somehow too bright yet unbelievably dreary, like the constant clouds had sucked the life out of the place and the foliage was overcompensating. She used to miss the way the heat waves danced across the gravel lawns, and how the sun's consistent presence felt like an old friend greeting her every morning letting her know she wasn't alone. But here with Jacob, her new sun, in this small section of the woods; green might just be her new favorite color.

Thanks to @musingsofvenus and @teamjacobthot for helping me out with this💖💖💖 And shoutout to @paulxlahotee for the Billy Black album because I could not for the life of me find a picture of young Gil that worked for this on google 💖

[crowclubkaz]

Blood in the Sand (Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth)

read it here on ao3

Bounty hunters don’t work for free. This has been something Din Djarin has been firm with throughout his life – yes, some jobs pay in favors rather than in credits or beskar, but they pay none the less. There are some jobs he takes on because he owes someone something, some jobs he takes on because he can’t stand to see innocent people hurt.

Mos Pelgo has neither credits, nor beskar, nor does the Mandalorian owe them anything. And yet, when a distress call is sent from the town to him, he goes without hesitation. Not because he expects something in return. Not even because he knows the place is filled with nothing but innocents. He goes because of Cobb Vanth.

The distress call had been unclear, rushed and hurried and desperate, and most notably, not from the town Marshal, that much Din can tell. But the people of Mos Pelgo remember the Mandalorian that had slain the Krayt Dragon, the knight in shining armor that had bartered peace with the Tuskens, and so they know that fearsome reputation or not, he is a friend to them. A friend to Marshal Vanth. And although the call is sent out in vain, he is the only person they know to call. A small place in the middle of Tatooine has no desire to deal with the New Republic, lest they have their lives overtaken by pilots in orange.

Before Din’s ship even touches sand, he knows exactly what sort of trouble he’s in for. While Stormtrooper armor might bleed the white snow of places like Hoth, it sticks out clear as day against the browns and beiges of Tatooine. What Stormtroopers are doing in Mos Pelgo of all places, Din doesn’t know – but that doesn’t matter. Their presence means nothing good, only brings with it death and destruction and forced submission. And while one or two Stormtroopers can be ambushed perfectly easily, even by the townsfolk of as small a place as Mos Pelgo, the twelve that Din can see sitting straight along the road through the center of town alone tell him why this is a problem much better suited for a specialist.

Ask questions first, shoot second has always been Din’s motto – he likes to know why he’s shooting before he has to. Wants to make sure nobody innocent is getting hurt before he so much as reaches for his blaster. And while he doesn’t often give Stormtroopers the benefit of the doubt, he does this time. He does this time, because the last thing he wants is anyone getting caught in the crossfire of a fully-armored shootout. It’s just being safe.

The troopers are on him before he’s so much as reached the first building in the town.

“Mandalorian,” Din hears one of them say, and he can’t discern whether it’s spoken with shock, hesitancy, or as a precursor to being shot at.

Din is silent as two troopers approach him, blasters both held across their chests.

“State your business.”

His business. Ridiculous.

“I’ve come to see an old friend,” he says, because it’s not untrue, and it’s the truth that is least likely to result in an all-out firefight. Din wants to speak to Vanth, first. Wants to understand what’s happened, needs to decide what the best course of action is with the most information possible.

“This is an Imperial outpost,” one of the troopers informs him. It makes Din tense, makes him straighten impossibly so.

“And there are still residents here,” Din continues. He can see people staring out of the windows of their homes, with so much hope in their eyes that the Mandalorian is here to save them. But they stay quiet, and stay still, because Stormtroopers aren’t known for their patience or consideration for life.

The two troopers glance at one another, before speaking again. “Who are you here to see?”

At least they’re smart enough not to dismiss someone dressed entirely in beskar steel immediately.

“The Marshal.”

It’s the soft chuckle that one of the troopers makes that has Din turning his head slightly in their direction. Din has been grateful for his helmet more often than not, for the protection and anonymity it offers – he’s grateful for it now, too, because were it not for his helmet, the sharp danger in his eyes would have given away too much.

Though the other trooper doesn’t laugh, there’s a clear amusements in his voice when he speaks. “There are no Marshals here. This village is claimed by the Empire.”

Din’s blood runs cold in a heartbeat, at the notion that Vanth might be—no. No, he isn’t. Din would know if Cobb was dead. He doesn’t know how he’d know, but he would. Or maybe that’s just lingering hope.

“Cobb Vanth, then,” Din corrects, managing to keep his voice steady, emotionless.

One trooper looks ready to threaten Din off, so entirely unconcerned by what irrelevant, useless citizen of this pathetic town the stranger is here to see. But the other cocks his head a bit, before he nods. “Vanth,” he says, and there’s recognition there. Din considers that a good thing. For a moment.

“Isn’t Vanth the one we made an example out of when we arrived?”

And Din goes still. Silent. He fires his blaster square in the trooper’s chest before either of them have even realized Din’s hand has so much as moved.

It ends the way Din had hoped it might. With twenty-two Stormtroopers dead, before a single one of them can make a distress call. No civilian casualties, or even injuries. It’s a good day. When the fighting is done and the noise has all stopped, one lone man dares to venture out into the streets, as though to make certain they’re all safe. And when he’s determined that they are, the rest of the townspeople follow hesitantly out. Some cry in relief, some kick the bodies of the troopers, already taking armor off of them.

The lone man – Din recognizes him vaguely from the battle with the dragon – steps forward, to bow his head and run a litany of praise. “Thank you,” and “we weren’t certain you had heard the call, let alone that you would come,” and “those Imperial bastards have been ravaging the town for weeks.”

Din nods in his understanding, but his mind is elsewhere. He waits until the man has seemingly finished, before Din puts his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Where is Marshal Vanth?”

The relief and gratitude on the man’s face slips into something much more somber, and he drops his gaze to the sand. “Terrible business,” the man mutters, with a shake of his head. “Terrible, terrible business.”

“Where?” Din asks again, and it’s clear it isn’t a friendly query. The man points to a house that looks like many others around it, unremarkable and undistinguishable, and Din goes to it without hesitation.

The inside is as plain and simple as the outside. It would be nearly impossible to decipher who it belongs to, were it not for the red scarf laying across the nearby table. The house has so few rooms that it doesn’t take long for Din to find the single one that’s occupied.

Inside, Cobb Vanth lays on a bed on his side. An older woman, one Din doesn’t recognize, sits behind him, intently focused on the work ahead. When she hears someone enter the room, she gasps, and stands quickly, as though to give Din some show of respect.

It’s only then that Din understands what ‘being made an example of’ looks like. Cobb is shirtless, and his back is a mess of angry, bloody lash marks, some so deep that he thinks he might see muscle. They look a few days old, at least, and that they’ve been well-tended to, but they look painful. It takes Cobb a few moments before he turns his head over his shoulder, his gaze so defeated, like he’s expecting to see a Stormtrooper standing there to finish the job. But he doesn’t. He sees Din, and the way Cobb’s face lights up makes even the brightest sun in the galaxy look dim.

“You came,” he breathes, moving to sit up, but crying out in pain and laying back down when his back protests to the movement. Din moves forward instinctively, kneeling down by the edge of the bed, a firm hand resting on Cobb’s hip to keep him from moving further. Once Cobb catches his breath, he swallows hard, and turns his head to look at the woman. “Give me a few minutes, Retta,” he says, with that soft, charming little smile. She looks at him wearily, but it isn’t because she doesn’t want to leave Cobb alone with the Mandalorian. “I’m not gonna bleed out in the five minutes you’re gone,” Cobb offers instead, and she seems to relax more at that, before excusing herself from the room.

Though, when she’s gone, the first thing Cobb does is move. “Help me up,” he says, and Din would protest to it, if he didn’t know just how stubborn Vanth was. So he offers what help he can, until Vanth is sitting at the edge of the bed, and Din stays down on one knee on the floor. Cobb is pale, in pain, looks broken in all sorts of ways, but has that look about him that still says I’m the Marshal, I’m fine, wrap me up and I’ll be good to go. It wouldn’t surprise Din if those were the first words out of Vanth’s mouth after he’d been abused so badly.

“What happened?” Din says softly, hands resting on Vanth’s knees, rubbing slow, gentle circles with his thumbs. A soothing gesture, he hopes, and it seems to work, because a bit of the stiffness in Cobb’s shoulders seeps out of his muscles.

“Troopers came through the desert, looking for a place to set up a new Imperial base. I don’t give a damn what the New Republic says, those Imperial bastards are still everywhere, if you know where to look,” Cobb breathes, with a shake of his head. “Guess they thought it’d be easier to turn a town into their little outpost instead of starting fresh. So they came in and took over. Didn’t have the firepower to stop ‘em.”

Briefly, Din feels a stab of guilt. That maybe if Cobb had still had Fett’s armor, he might’ve been able to save himself and his town. But that isn’t true, and Din knows it. It took one, fully-experienced, fully-armored, pissed-off Mandalorian to take care of the troopers, and Cobb couldn’t have managed it alone.

“Played along, for a while. Didn’t want anybody getting hurt, or worse. But I been a thorn in their side since day one,” Vanth chuckles, and lightly, Din does, too. They’re both troublemakers, for the right causes. “Managed to duck ‘em for a few weeks. But then they started going after the little ones, trying to poach ‘em, get ‘em to train to be troopers. I wasn’t putting up with that. So when I tried to stop ‘em, they pulled me out into the middle of town and—” Cobb stops, gesturing vaguely to the mess at his back. “Guessin’ you can figure out the rest.”

Din exhales slowly, head dropping a little. “I’m sorry,” he says, after a few moments. But it only makes Cobb raise a brow. “For what, huh? Unless you sent ‘em here yourself, you got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t have left you vulnerable.” Whether that meant letting Vanth keep the armor (which Din couldn’t do), or staying behind to protect Mos Pelgo himself (which Din also couldn’t do). But there must’ve been something he could’ve done to stop this, and he didn’t. And it makes him hurt. Makes him hurt to see Cobb hurt.

Cobb brushes his hands down over the sides of Din’s helmet, pulls him in a little closer until Din can rest his head against Cobb’s chest lightly. “Ain’t your job to keep me safe,” he offers softly, because it isn’t. Cobb can take care of himself, thank you very much. And when he can’t, well—that’s life.

Another moment of heavy silence passes by, before Din reluctantly pulls away from Vanth’s touch, and goes to take his gloves off instead. “Lay down,” he instructs, as kindly and gently as he’s capable. And Cobb does without disagreement, because sitting up hurts too damn much right now. He lets out a relieved exhale when he’s back laying down, facing the stone wall ahead of him, listening to the Mandalorian shuffle around behind him.

“This’ll hurt,” Din warns, before he’s bringing the wet cloth the woman had been using to clean Vanth’s wounds to his skin. Cobb inhales sharply, but it isn’t an unbearable pain. “You even allowed to go taking your gloves off?” Vanth teases lightly, because Cobb Vanth could be broken and bleeding, but he’ll always be charming. Din doesn’t respond, but Vanth likes to think he can tell that the Mandalorian is smiling beneath that shiny helmet.

The movements are slower and more tender than Vanth ever expected a bounty hunter to be capable of. And when the water in the bowl has run red, and Cobb’s wounds are as clean as they can be, Din reaches for the cloth to wrap the wounds back up. His work there is just as steady, just as soothing, and Cobb’s eyes briefly flutter shut whenever he can feel Din’s skin brush against his own. “I’ve taken care of the troopers here,” Din explains as he works. “If you dispose of the bodies, I doubt anyone else will come looking for such a small outpost in the middle of a desert.”

And if they do? Din will make certain that he’s one call away. One signal, one click, and he’ll be there.

“Then I guess I owe you twice over, don’t I? For the troopers, and for playing medic,” Cobb hums, and he hates owing people, but he doesn’t mind owing Din.

“You owe me nothing,” Din says quickly in return, and he means it. He means it. And that doesn’t sound like the kind of tone Vanth was to argue with, so he doesn’t.

When his back is bandaged securely, Din runs his fingers over the layers of cloth strips, wishing he could heal it all with a simple touch. But he can’t. He can’t do anything to make this right.

But he can give Vanth something else.

With Cobb still facing away from him, Din’s hands go to his helmet. And Cobb holds his breath when he hears the thing come off, closes his eyes tight, even though he can’t see Din from where he’s laying, anyways. It just feels—respectful. Right.

Cobb is no stranger to touch, of course. He’s spent a few too many nights alone in the Cantina, after all, just looking for a good time. But when Din’s lips brush so lightly over Cobb’s shoulder, the first piece of exposed skin he can reach that isn’t bloodied, Cobb swears he could damn near cry. It’s such an intimate thing, so much more intimate in ways Vanth can’t even begin to explain.

“I’m sorry,” Din says again, his lips brushing Vanth’s shoulder as he speaks. Another kiss, then, to Cobb’s bicep. And as Din raises up on his knees, he can see that Cobb’s eyes are shut, and the warmth that fills Din is so overwhelming. Everyone he’s ever met has asked about the helmet, has all but begged him to see beneath it. And Din knows Cobb wants to see, too. But Din’s comfort and his Creed matter to Vanth, and he puts that before his own desire, even at his weakest.

Vanth is trembling lightly by the time Din kisses his cheek, and every part of Cobb wants to turn and catch Din’s lips, but he doesn’t. Doesn’t let himself push so far, because this intimacy is a gift he’s being given, and he knows better than to push his luck, or worse, be ungrateful.

“It isn’t my job to keep you safe,” Din agrees, so desperately softly. “But I’d like it to be.” And Din kisses Cobb properly, then, feels those rough lips against his own, and they melt into one another. But Cobb is still hurt, and Din is hyper-aware of that, so he pulls back long before either of them will need to start gasping for air, even when Vanth chases after the kiss in desperate for more.

No one’s ever offered to keep Cobb safe before. He’s always been something of a lone ranger, always keeping other people safe, always the first line of defense. And Maker, he wants to keep Din safe, too, but there’s really not much he can do for a man that’ll jet straight inside of a damned dragon without telling anyone about it first. Maybe the best that they can do is… protect each other. Or do their hardest.

“C’mere,” Vanth says, gesturing with his head to what little space is left in front of him on the bed. And armor and all, Din lays down with Cobb, and brings his hand up to brush over Vanth’s cheek. Cobb chases the touch like he needs it to survive, eyes still shut so tightly, just trying to get a feel for Din without really seeing him. He nestles in closer against all of that beskar, cool to the touch even under the hot suns. It settles and soothes him, makes him relax more than he has in months, let alone since the Stormtroopers invaded.

“Cobb,” Din half-whispers, in an attempt not to disturb the peace he’s created. “You can open your eyes.” Vanth recoils the barest bit, like he’s absolutely shocked, like even though he’s been given permission, he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. It makes Din smile, and he rubs his thumb over Cobb’s cheek. “You can. It’s okay.”

So, he does.

And he studies Din’s face for a long, long time. Takes in every inch of him, like he’s worried he’s gonna have to memorize this now, because he’ll never be able to see it again. “Huh,” Cobb says, after a moment. “Brown eyes.” He doesn’t know why he’d been expecting green.

“Brown eyes,” Din chuckles softly with a nod, still so unused to being... seen. Once the initial shock of getting to see Din has left Cobb, the barest hint of a smirk tugs at his lips. “Knew you’d be too damn handsome for your own good,” he says, just to see if he can get Din’s cheeks to go pink. And they do, a bit. It’s rewarding as all hell.

And this time, it’s Vanth that kisses Din first. And he goes slow, takes his time, brings his own hand up to brush through Din’s hair. It’s soft. Perfect. Just like everything else about him. Cobb knows in that moment that he’d do anything Din ever asked of him, and Din knows he’d do the same in return. Amongst all of the blood, and the sand, and the pain, they’ve found… this. Whatever this is. It’s more than either of them think they deserve, but neither of them are going to complain about having it. And as much as they both wish it hadn’t taken a public lashing to get here, fate isn’t always the kindest thing.

When they pull away, Cobb’s panting a bit, and Din’s trying not to. Can’t let Vanth see him breathless, otherwise his ego might swell too big for his own good.

“Think I could get used to keeping a Mandalorian around,” Cobb smiles.

Din mirrors the expression. “Think I could get used to staying.”

[queen-scribbles]

The Long-Burning Torch

For the @shepherds-of-haven​ Shepherds Summer event, the Ryn/Red muses latched onto 20′s Detective AU and would not let go. I’ve gone so deep down this rabbit hole there’s gonna be chapters, but the first piece works as a standalone. (title might change along the way, again bc chapters)

----

There were, in Xaeryn’s experience, two types of people who made use of her services. Both were driven by desperation, both tended to hit her doorstep late in the day. There were the belligerent ones, incensed they had to stoop to hiring her, a Mage, to solve their problem. From them she had to pull the pertinent facts of their case one begrudging sentences at a time. And there were the frantic ones, who had exhausted every other route and she was their last chance. Details poured so freely from them she had to pick through it to find what was actually relevant to the case.

The young man standing before her now, at the start of her day, appeared to fit neither of those groups. He’d knocked and entered without awaiting an invitation, seeming unperturbed by the eyebrow she arched at his arrival.

“May I help you?” Xaeryn asked, leaning forward to rest folded hands on her desk.

He shifted to fold his own hands over the head of a walking stick she’d wager he didn’t actually need and smiled dryly. “If your reputation is anything to go by, Miss Shrike, I certainly expect so.”

She gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Let’s find out, Mr...?”

“Riel Syndran,” he said, passing her a business card as he took the offered seat.

The card was hardly necessary, and Xaeryn set it on the desk with only a passing glance. “You run Whitestone Couriers, don’t you?”

There was the faintest twitch on the left side of his jaw. “The company is a guild venture.”

“And I wouldn’t be much of a snooper if I couldn’t figure out who truly ran a company as vital to the city of Haven as Whitestone Couriers, Mr. Syndran.”

He gave her a sharp smile. “Very good. I knew coming to you first was the right call, Miss Shrike.”

“Flattered as I am by your confidence” --and she was; she was typically the last resort, being first was something of a novelty-- “why don’t you tell me what or who you need found, and we can discover if said confidence is warranted.”

“I’m certain it is,” Syndran said, his gaze briefly dropping to the Shrike Investigations placard on the edge of her desk. “But you are correct. To business.”

And business, as he explained it, ran thus: Whitestone Couriers had been contracted to transport a collection of artefacts, originally from all parts of Blest, from their previous temporary home at the Conte-by-the-Sea museum to Haven’s Hall of History and Culture.

”How well-known was your being contracted?” Xaeryn interjected.

“It was something of a secret,” Syndran replied, flicking invisible dust off his sleeve. “Some of the pieces are quite valuable, so it was largely in hopes of avoiding theft.”

Hopes that had proven vain. They’d had an uneventful journey--blessed with good weather, even--made it through city customs upon arriving at Haven (checked everything after making it through and found nothing amiss), and proceeded to the museum. Upon unpacking the artefacts, however, it was discovered one was missing.

(Of course.)

The missing piece--an obsidian and bronze pendent thought to belong to a ruler in the Jalis desert pre-Autarchy--had limited monetary value, especially compared to some of the other items in the collection. (Those, of course, had been more closely watched.) Its worth was largely historical and religious.

“Enchantments?”

“None so far as we know.”

“I’ll look into it for you,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She loved mind-twisters like this. “I’ll need to talk to your people, as well as the museum staff, so it would be helpful if you let them know I’m coming. Otherwise my kind” --a twitch of her fingers set energy dancing above them briefly-- “aren’t usually given the time of day.”

“Of course. I shall do so.” Syndran stood and bowed. “I thank you for taking my case, Miss Shrike, and look forward to your success.”

“Two things, Mr. Syndran,” she spoke up as he turned toward the door. She waited until he paused and looked back to continue. “I will, of course, endeavor to find this relic on my own, but should I require an expert’s... knowledge of its history, say, is outside help acceptable?”

His nose wrinkled briefly. “If you must. But as few others as possible, and only those you trust to keep it in strictest confidence.”

“Understood.”

“And the second thing, Miss Shrike?”

She smiled. “One third estimated payment is due upfront.”

“Oh, obviously.” He returned the smile and pulled out his checkbook.

----

She made some good progress between that afternoon and the next day. Interviews with the caravan guards and those responsible for the artefact collection gave insight to their procedures--which were indeed top-notch; it was impressive someone had managed to find a weakness--and how long the pieces were out of their sight coming through city customs.

“Don’t see why that matters,” the pink-haired courier who’d been in charge of the caravan commented. “We checked them all when we got through; made sure everything was still there. Standard procedure.”

“When you say you checked, is this a thorough examination or just a glance to make sure it’s still there?” Xaeryn asked, glancing at the notepad balanced on her knee.

“There’s no fine-tooth comb involved,” came the somewhat tart and harried reply, “but we do look to confirm it’s there and undamaged so nothing undeserved can later be blamed on us. The company has a sterling reputation for a reason, Miss Shrike, and the guild would very much like to keep it that way.”

“Hence your boss coming to me instead of the police.” Xaeryn tapped her pen against her chin and skimmed over her notes. “I think I have everything I need, Miss Aerin. Thank you for your time.”

Aerin gave a sharp nod. “Of course. Anything to get this cleared up and the artefact found as quickly as possible.” She flicked a worried glance toward the notebook as Xaeryn slipped it in her handbag. “How much did you write down? A lot of our procedures are trade secrets; if someone should see...”

Xaeryn laughed and withdrew the notepad again, flipping it open to show the other woman the symbols that filled the pages. “Never fear, your secrets are safe with me. An added bonus of my own shorthand; no one else can read my notes.”

“Smart.” A brief hesitation. “No one? You’re sure?”

“Well, perhaps the friend who helped develop it initially, but I’ve tweaked it since then.” She flipped the pad closed and stowed it in her bag. “I think it would take a little work even for him. We worked it out to take faster notes in class, but taking faster notes also come in handy in my line of work.”

Aerin relaxed and nodded again. “I’m sure it does. Thank you for the reassurance, Miss Shrike.”

“Of course. Have a good day.”

“You as well.”

With the last of the days’ intended interviews behind her, Xaeryn headed back to her office. Now to review what she’d learned from all the sources together. She was confident she had plenty to give herself at least a couple leads worth pursuing, even if there wasn’t enough for a scry.

---

It took a day and a half of running herself off her feet for Xaeryn to burn through the leads she’d found without much to show for it. She’d been unable to track down the specific guard who checked that portion of the shipment, but his supervisor assured her such an important collection would have been treated with utmost care, seeming miffed at the insinuation otherwise. None of the drivers or other courier employees had noticed anything unusual once they passed through customs, no interruptions or suspicious folks in the streets.

Even scrying had fizzled out without so much as a vague semblance of where it might be.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Xaeryn dug her fingers into her short hair and glowered at the photographs of the pendent Mr. Syndran had given her. It was so small. So easily concealed. And so simple it would hardly draw attention unless you knew what it was.

She’d been forced to grudgingly admit her minimal progress to Mr. Syndran when he called for an update and it had her in a foul mood. This sort of baloney was not how she kept the lights on. It was time for a new tack.

If she couldn’t (yet) trace where the pendent vanished from, perhaps it would work better to learn more about it; figure where it might be going and get a solid enough knowledge of it she could successfully scry its location. Who would want it badly enough for the hassle of stealing from Whitestone Couriers to be worth their while? Looking into the pendent’s history and provenance seemed the next logical course. Just because Mr. Syndran had told her it was on loan to the collection from the “proper” owners did not mean said owners had told him everything, or indeed, that they’d told the truth. She needed an expert and knew just where to find one.

It had been long enough since her time at Solhadur Academy Xaeryn actually had to look up the telephone number before calling. As she listened to the line ringing, she wondered absently how much of a gentle scolding Headmaster Tevanti would give her for her first contact in more than a decade being to ask for something rather than merely catching up. She’d always been the type not to bother people unless she had to. That was, after all, what she preferred. And her self-reliance had carried her through quite a bit. But she was aware most people would differ from her on that point; Tevanti especially was fond of jawing, so he would surely have words for her long silence.

She let it go to ten rings before giving up. Revelation came with a glance at the clock; it was late enough there was likely no one around to answer. No matter. She could drive out tomorrow. The Academy was in Capra, that wasn’t terribly far. (Not for business, anyway.) Headmaster Tevanti wouldn’t mind one of his favorite students dropping in for an hour or so to discuss a relic from one of his favorite historical periods. She’d even engage in small talk, if he wanted.

Xaeryn smiled to herself and locked both the photographs and her notepad in one of the desk drawers. If that was her plan for tomorrow, she should turn in early, make sure she was well-rested. Time for a trip down memory lane.

---

The morning was uneventful, aside from the troublesome discovery she’d left her office unlocked all night. She was normally more attentive than that, even being on a higher floor. But nothing was disturbed or missing, so Xaeryn shrugged it off and got on with her day.

If she selected her wardrobe with a more critical eye than usual, well, she wanted to look professional. Headmaster Tevanti had been a wonderful mentor, and she wanted to show how far his encouragements about using her bright mind and sharp eye had carried her.

(She wondered, briefly, as she pulled on the royal blue skirt and its matching blouse, accented in deep golden-yellow, if she would see any other familiar faces. But she shook off the warmth of the thought; they’d all scattered to the winds after graduation. Getting to see Tevanti would be enough.)

Satisfied with her ensemble, and needing to fill some time before she left, Xaeryn sat at her desk with her notepad and transcribed everything she knew about the missing pendent(not much), along with questions to ask. She picked out the best of the photographs from Mr. Syndran, just in case, and sighed as she looked at the clock. She’d still be a tad early for it to be polite, especially just dropping in out of the blue, if she left now.

So I’ll drive at a leisurely pace, she argued to herself. Take my time. Allowing a buffer in case there’s trouble along the way is only wise. God in heaven, she wished she could figure why she had worse jitters about this than some dates she’d gone on. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she muttered to the empty office.

She locked the remaining photographs back in her desk, slipped the chosen one and her notepad in her handbag. After a moment’s internal debate, she slipped one of her stiletto knives down in her boot as well. Solhadur was far from dangerous, but it was prudent to have some measure of protection when traveling alone. She grabbed a hat on her way out the door--which she made certain to lock this time--and had it securely on her head by the time she reached the car.

----

Despite her efforts to make it a leisurely drive out to Capra, and weather that was perfect for that goal, Xaeryn still found herself standing in the entrance hall of Solhadur Academy at an earlier hour than would usually be considered polite for impromptu business meetings. She debated walking the grounds for a while, revisiting some memories from her time here, but decided simply apologizing for her early arrival was the better course of action.

With a final steadying breath and running one hand down her blouse and skirt to chase away wrinkles, Xaeryn headed for the reception desk. She smiled at the young woman behind it. “Good morning.”

The receptionist blinked, seeming mildly taken aback by how far up she had to look to meet her visitor’s eyes. “Morning, miss. Office hours don’t start until ten-”

“Oh, I’m not a student here,” Xaeryn said with a laugh. “At least, not anymore. And I do apologize for the early appearance, the drive out went much faster than anticipated.”

A brow twitched at that. “And what is it that brings you to Solhadur, miss...?”

“I’m doing research on a selection of artefacts and haven’t been able to turn up much on one.” It was barely a lie; she had read a bit on the other exhibition pieces, even if the pendent was the only one she needed to go deeper. “It’s from a period I know is of particular interest to the headmaster, so I was hoping to speak to him for a while, see if he could help.”

The receptionist pursed her lips. “Former student, you say?”

Xaeryn nodded. “If he’s busy first thing, I don’t mind waiting.”

““No, actually, being early is smart,” the receptionist said with a light laugh. “His hours are more full at the later end of things. This would be the best opportunity if you want some of his time.” She glanced over Xaeryn once more, then nodded. “You can go up. Third door--”

“On the left. I remember,” Xaeryn finished. “Thank you.”

“You might actually beat him there,” the receptionist laughed. “He isn’t always punctual.”

“I remember that, too,” Xaeryn returned with a grin. “Like I said, I don’t mind waiting. It’ll be good to see him again, few more minutes won’t hurt.” She toyed with one of her earrings as she headed up the stairs, steps lingering and heavy with nostalgia.

It was almost exactly as she remembered. A few portraits replaced or rearranged, new photographs from after she left. New name placards outside the doors she passed. The headmaster’s office door was closed, and a light inquiring rap of her knuckles brought no response.

Looks like she was right, Xaeryn thought with a smile, leaning against the chair outside the office to wait. Her gaze drifted to the high ceiling, following the details of familiar carvings to the scenes painted on the ceiling itself. Slightly faded from what she remembered, but that was to be expected after a decade--

“Xaeryn?!” The voice, still familiar even after years apart, sounded like he’d seen a ghost.

Her heart lurched in her chest and she’d spun around before the impulse to do so had even fully registered, his name tumbling from her lips unprompted in return. “Red?!”

He crossed the remaining distance between them in just a few strides(God, he’d gotten taller, how was that even possible?), barely remembered to set the books he carried on the chair before wrapping her in a hug.

Xaeryn didn’t even flinch, and only just managed to keep her grip on her handbag as she hugged him back. He still smelled of old books and ink and sunshine and she smiled at the memories it stirred.

Liefred Antiqua, her seatmate in any classes they shared and best friend regardless of how many they didn’t for the entirely of her time at Solhadur. Friendly, charming, and just as fond of books as he was people. (The nights they’d spent pressed shoulder to shoulder reading in the library were still among her favorite memories.) Between his warm nature and classic good looks, he’d had half the student body swooning  after him, and yet despite the sharp contrast to Xaeryn’s more reserved and self-reliant bent, they’d still spent most of their time together. Their friendship was the strongest of the few she’d formed at Solhadur, and Xaeryn valued it immensely.

(Too much to risk on anything like admitting when the sight of his smile sent something that was definitely not friendship fluttering in her chest. It was just a crush, it would go away.)

( And then it didn’t.)

They’d both had plans to travel after graduation, and she couldn’t count on all her fingers combined the number of times she’d almost suggested they do it together. But in this one thing, she never could quite summon the nerve. And before she knew it, her departure date had arrived and they were hugging farewell, and come with me wouldn’t unstick from her throat. After a few months’ silence stretched between them--both traveling and unsure where the other might be, obviously--she’d resigned herself to their paths never crossing again, much as the thought hurt.

And yet here he was.

All the memories flew through her mind in the few seconds their hug lasted, and had a lump starting in her throat by the time they parted.

“Wonderful as it is to see you,” Red began as he stepped back to reclaim his books and run a glance over her, “what are you doing here?”

Xaeryn cleared her throat as she returned the apprising glance with one of her own. He still looked practically the same. A few inches taller, shoulders a bit more broad, and an attempt had been made to tame his bright red hair. It had only achieved partial success, and combined with the warm glint in his green eyes, he still was the same Red she knew. (The same Red she’d been more than a little in love with, even if she’d never dared the risk of admitting it.)

“I’m doing research,” she said, reaching up to tug the back brim of her hat as she glanced at the office door. “Into some artefacts. I wanted to ask Headmaster Tevanti about one in particular that’s being difficult.”

Red grimaced and fumbled his books. “Did you not hear, Xaer?” His voice went soft on the nickname, despite them being alone. Voices did carry in these halls, as they very well knew. “Tevanti died.”

She blinked, shock and sorrow curling in her chest. “Wh- How? When?”

“Not long after you left, actually,” he said, raking his free hand through his hair and tousling it out of respectability. “You know he’d been having problems with his heart. It gave out a few months after you left.” His brow furrowed. “I’m surprised you weren’t told when you set an appointment.”

“I didn’t so much set an appointment as show up looking to talk,” Xaeryn admitted with a soft, wry snort. “And I did simply say the headmaster when speaking to the receptionist.” She cocked her head. “Who would that be, now?”

Red smiled sheepishly, half-bit his lower lip. “Me, actually.” He shifted the books to one arm and opened the office door. Slightly nonplussed by two such major revelations in a row, Xaeryn was silent as she followed him in.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” was the first thought to pop in her head and then out her mouth as she looked around the office. It was spacious, lined with jam-packed bookshelves(He must be in heaven), and in a state of... corralled disarray that was so very Red it made her smile despite the news about Tevanti.

“I did,” Red replied, setting the books on his desk. “And I got to, at least a bit.” He tucked a handful of papers inside an open tome occupying one of the chairs, flipped the book closed, and set it on a side table so he could offer her a seat.  “I’d already left when he passed, so Professor Rumi and some others kept things going until I got back.” Rather than sit in the chair behind the desk, he shuffled a small stack of books onto the floor and sat in the one next to Xaeryn’s as he continued. “He’d... wanted me as his successor, Xaeryn.”

“That makes sense.” The words were out  before she could weigh them, spurred by the disbelief in his hesitation. “You’re brilliant, charming, and have a history with the school.” Her face warmed in the wake of being so candid, and Xaeryn glanced over at the large painting of Tevanti that hung on the wall between two bookshelves. He knew what he was doing. “You’re a logical choice.”

Red laughed warmly. “High praise from the smartest student in our class.”

“But far from the most charming,” she countered with a wry smile.

The warmth of his gaze didn’t abate. “I’ve always appreciated your-”

“Bluntness?”

“Straight-forwardness,” Red substituted, and was smiling when she looked his way. “An ability to cut to the heart of the subject is an invaluable skill.”

Xaeryn gave a faint shake of her head. “As is your kindness. But speaking of the heart of the matter...”

“Ah, right. You came here for a reason.” He pushed his unbuttoned shirtsleeves up toward his elbows. “I can’t promise to know as much as Tevanti would have, but I’ll certainly do my best to help.”

“Actually...” She snapped open her handbag to pull out the photograph and her notepad. “You’ve done a lot of research on pre-Autarchy history, so you might be able to help more than you think.” She set the photograph on the desk and Red cocked his head to look at it.

“Solimer’s torch...” he murmured, turning the photograph for a better look as his gaze gained that focus of a niche interest being whetted. (Which, for Red, meant she was about to hear everything he knew about the pendent’s history in too much detail to called a summary, and Xaeryn found herself leaning forward slightly in anticipation.) He glanced up at her. “Isn’t this one of the pieces in that exhibit about to open in Haven?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m researching it.” She bit her lip but barely hesitated on the gamble of her next words. ‘Those you trust’, Mr. Syndran had said, and there was no one she trusted more than Liefred Antiqua. “It was stolen, and I was hired to find.”

His head came up, derailed from the growing ramble on the pendent’s history.  “Oh?”

“I’m a detective,” Xaeryn said, playing with one of her earrings. She laughed softly. “Scrying does give a considerable leg up to finding things. Or people. But that only works when--”

“You know enough about them,” Red nodded. “So this visit is for business, rather than personal.”

“Mostly, yes,” she conceded, resting one hand on his knee. I didn’t know you’d be here.  “But I was more than willing to chat with Tevanti” --there was a pang in her chest--”which most definitely extends to you as well, Headmaster Antiqua.”

His neck and ears went faintly pink as he laughed. “Surely we don’t need to be quite so formal, Detective Shrike?”

“Just ‘Miss’,” she returned with a laugh of her own, withdrawing her hand to instead fiddle with her notepad. “I work for myself, not the cops.” There might’ve been a little pride in her voice at the words, but it was well-earned.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” Red said, turning her own remark back on her.

“And travel I did,” Xaeryn said lightly. “For quite a while, even. But a girl does need a job eventually, and I’ve always loved a good mystery.”

“Or even a bad one,” he teased. “All kidding aside, Miss Shrike, I’m sure you’re a brilliant investigator.”

She smiled, chuckling at the playful glint in his eye even as her ears warmed at the praise. “Thank you. And on that note, what can you tell me about the pendent?”

“Right, right. You’re here on business.” Amusement lingered in Red’s eyes even as he turned back to the photograph. His sleeves started to slide and he shoved them back up again. Xaeryn very deliberately kept her focus on the photograph, not his arms--or hands--as he tapped one finger at the center of the obsidian pendent. “This was a protection...  charm, I suppose you’d call it, worn by the head of the Solimer tribe ages ago. Literal ages. Without refreshing my memory, all I can tell you is they were one of the few tribes whose wanderings regularly took them through the heart of the Jalis desert, and yet they always fared better on those journeys than the other tribes, which was credited to this pendent.”

“So it is magical?” Xaeryn leaned closer to look over the piece again, not that a photograph could do it full justice. This was a familiar position; the two of them bent over a shared project, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed it until that moment.

“Possibly?” Red shifted and his shoulder bumped hers. “ The story goes that on their first attempt to journey through, they saw a light, like a torch, keeping pace with them. It only showed up at night, and seemed far enough away from their caravan the chief felt it was too dangerous to let anyone go after it to see what it was. Their wariness at its presence, however, kept them vigilant enough they were able to see and fend off any wild animals that came after them, and it did nothing except travel their same path, so they let it be. 

“A couple weeks into their journey, as their supplies were starting to run low, the chieftain’s wife was out hunting and strayed far enough in search of food that the sun started setting while she was out. As the skies grew dim she could see the Torch, much larger than they usually did from the caravan, though it was floating away. Seized by good old-fashioned curiosity” --he paused to wink at her and Xaeryn bit back a smile-- “she followed the light rather than work her way back to camp. She kept after it long enough night had nearly fallen when it crested a ridge and disappeared. She hastened after it, and when she made it over the ridge, found herself standing by a waterspring the likes of which they’d never seen. When she looked around for the light she’d followed, there was no sign of it, save a black rock that lay at her feet. There were no other rocks anywhere nearby, so she decided this must be what had caused the torch-like light her tribe had seen. 

“She carried it with her when she returned to the tribe with news of water, and the Solimer took it as a sign of the gods’ favor. The chieftain had it bound in bronze” --he traced a finger along the lines of the coiled setting-- “to be worn as a way to hold that favor. It was passed from leader to leader and from all accounts they had far better luck surviving the desert than the other tribes for a long time.”

“Was that not likely just them knowing better how to handle themselves? If they traveled those portions of the desert more frequently, of course they were better prepared.”

“Maybe.” Red shrugged. “We have no firsthand written records from any of these tribes, just legends and history relayed orally. And a lot of the second-hand ones were... lost when the Autarchy came to power. From the way the stories run, after generation of favor from the pendent, it was lost when the Solimer were defeated in a skirmish over resources with another tribe. Their next several trips went so poorly it cost over half their number, and they wound up assimilated into other tribes within the next couple decades just to survive.”

“Sad,” Xaeryn murmured, though she wondered if the pendent’s loss had become a self-fulfilling prophecy if they believed in it that strongly. “And what happened to the pendent after that?”

“That’s all I know off the top of my head,” Red said sheepishly as he sat back, running a hand through his hair. “Anything more I’d have to research. To refresh my memory.”

“Oh, that’s all? Tsk, tsk, Liefred, you’re slipping,” she teased, then snorted a wry chuckle. “Of course, it’s more than I had.” She showed him the scant lines on a single page of her small notepad.

Red smiled at the sight of the shorthand and let the playful ribbing slide as he ran a finger over the page. “You tweaked it.”

“A bit, to make it jive better with detective work.” Xaeryn tucked the pad back in her handbag. She’d been so caught up listening to him talk she’d not taken a single note. “I’m certain you could work it out with a little time.”

“Oh, time-” Red’s gaze flew to the clock at the same moment there was a knock and muffled “Headmaster?” at the door. “Damn. Forgot I have a meeting.” He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tribulations of being in charge. Just a minute!” he called toward the door, then, to Xaeryn, “I can look into this more in my free time, if you’d like.”

What free time? she almost asked, looking at the stacks of books and papers everywhere. But she swallowed that in favor of, “That would be lovely, thank you so much.”

“Any specific information you need?” Red asked as they stood.

“Anything you can find is welcome, but specifically.... What happened to the pendent after the Solimer lost it, who would have claim of ownership, if ownership is contested... anything like that. I want to find it, but part of that may very well lie in figuring out who would have most reason to steal it in the first place.” Xaeryn pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “So I don’t wind up nagging you,” she laughed. “You can call when you find something. The telephone’s in my office, but I live adjacent, so I’ll always hear it.”

Red nodded and slipped the card in his pocket. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

“Much appreciated. Also...” She grimaced slightly. “This is something of a secret; the Couriers don’t want it being common knowledge.”

“Understandable,” he said as they started toward the door. “Oh, don’t you need this?” He reached back for the photograph and held it out to her.

“Yes, thanks.” Xaeryn smiled and tried not to let the flutter in her chest when their fingers brushed as she took it gain purchase. She slipped the photograph back in her handbag as Red opened the door. Given the student waiting in the hall, she was the picture of professionalism--aside from the twinkle in her eye--as she nodded farewell. “Thank you for your time, Headmaster.”

Several things flashed through Red’s eyes, the brief desire to strangle her, a loud burst of laughter, an eyeroll, but he settled on a warm smile, wide enough his dimples just started to show. “Happy to help, Miss Shrike.”

She was still fighting a grin as she turned to descend the stairs, heart practically singing with warmth. Of all the lovely surprises... Regardless of whether she succeeded or failed, this case was already among the most worthwhile she’d ever taken, simply for bringing him back into her life.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, antisocial-af!

For @antisocial-af: (HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!)

*****

Why did I even agree to this in the first place?

Alec wondered to himself as he checked his watch again for the tenth time in the last five minutes.

His date was late, exceedingly late in fact, and he was beginning to feel pathetic; the waitress had been giving him a look of pity for the last half an hour.

Alec had begrudgingly agreed to be set up on a blind date by his sister.  It had become the general consensus among his siblings that he needed to get out and finally meet somebody.

“You need to get laid big brother.” Isabelle had said with a smirk as Jace had laughed.

“She’s right man.” Jace had agreed wholeheartedly. “At the very least it’d lighten you up a bit.”

Alec had been incredulous.  “This is really none of your business and I don’t think—”

“I know someone!” Isabelle piped in suddenly with a grin.

“See!  Problem solved Alec.  We’ll get you laid soon enough.” Jace had said clapping Alec on his back.

Why he had eventually agreed to the blind date was anyone’s guess, even Alec himself was questioning it, especially since the guy had apparently decided not to show.

“That’s it.  I’m—”

“I am so sorry I’m late!”

Alec looked up startled.  In front of him was what had to be the most uniquely beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on.  His hair was swept up in an elegantly wavy coif with blue highlights, his eyes were traced in black eyeliner with some kind of shimmery eyeshadow that helped bring out the beautiful bronze of the man’s eyes.  His lips were plump with a slight pink gloss to them, which Alec wanted nothing more than to kiss.

Wait…what?

Alec shook his head and closed his eyes.

Get a hold of yourself Alec.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, finding his blind date looking at him with wide eyes.

“Look, you’re probably angry with me, which I totally get, but I have a very good excuse I swear—"

The man stopped rambling as Alec held up both his hands indicating that the other man should stop.

“You’re here now, which is all that matters, right?” Alec said straightening up and focusing his attention on his date.

The other man smiled softly at Alec and gently nodded his head.

“Right.  Let me formally introduce myself, I’m Magnus, Magnus Bane.”

“Alec.”

The two men shook hands and neither one could keep the smiles off their faces.

“Wow, Isabelle really hit the nail on the head with you.” Alec couldn’t help but say, feeling himself blush as his own words hit his ears.

The other man, Magnus, was quiet for a moment, looked unsure before a Cheshire grin spread over his face.

“Can’t say I heard as much about you, but I don’t think words could do you justice Alexander.”

Alec paused a moment, his full name coming from the man in front of him causing a shiver to radiate up his spine.

I like that.

Alec chuckled and smiled back at the man who seemed like such a force of nature, all he wanted was to try and contain it just for himself.

So, the two men chatted and laughed and drank together for the next couple of hours.  The waitress who had previously been looking at Alec with pity was now looking on at him with envy.  It felt really good he had to admit to himself.

Magnus was an impressive man.  He owned his own night club (he’d been helped out with a loan by his grandmother), but he’d been the one to turn it into a successful venture.  He was also an artist; painting was his main forte, but he also enjoyed writing poetry every now and again.

“Maybe one day you could show me a piece of your work.” Alec had said nonchalantly.

Smirking Magnus had replied with, “Maybe one day I’ll let you see my piece.  I’ve been told it’s quite impressive.”

Alec had nearly choked on his food at that.

“I didn’t—That’s not—”

“Alexander, relax,” Magnus had said reaching forward and clasping his hand over Alec’s. “I’m just flirting with you, no need to get flustered, though I must admit you’re even more adorable now than you were ten minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry gentleman, but we’re closing in five minutes.”  It was their waitress who did have guilty look on her face.

Magnus swiped the check from her before Alec even had a chance.

“It’s on me my dear Alexander.  I was late after all.”

Alec couldn’t stop the stutter that made its way out of his mouth as he tried to protest, but it was a losing battle.  The man before him had bewitched him.  Everything about Magnus Bane left him feeling hungry for more.  His sister sure knew how to pick guys.

They ended up exchanging numbers, promising each other to text when they made it home safely.

Magnus took Alec’s hand in his and placed a gentle kiss to the top of it.  Alec’s eyebrows were up to his hairline as Magnus looked up meeting his gaze.

“Goodnight, sweet prince.”

And in a flourish Magnus Bane was gone.

Alec was in a daze most of the way home.   He also had the biggest smile on his face.  Izzy definitely had outdone herself.

His phone rang suddenly, and he answered without thinking.

“Hello?”

“Alec?”

“Hey Isabelle, what are you—”

“Did Jason show up?”

Alec looked at his phone in confusion.

“Um, who’s Jason?”

“Shit, what an asshole, I should have known.”

“Iz you really need to figure out what you’re saying because I just had the best date I’ve had in years, and you’re kind of freaking me out here.” Alec said stopping.

“Well, I don’t know how that would have been possible Alec, because the guy I fixed you up with turned out to be a total prick and decided not to show.  I had been so scared you’d just sat there all night alone…"

“Ok Izzy wait a second.  So, if the guy who you set me up with didn’t show then who the hell did I have dinner and desert with for the last two and a half hours?”

“Oh, Alec I—I’m not sure.  Two and a half hours, really?  That’s Amazing!”

“Not the point Iz.” Alec said impatiently trying not to freak out.

“What was the guy’s name?”

“I don’t think that matters—”

“Alec just tell me the guy’s damn name.”

Sighing Alec shook his head.  “Magnus Bane.  That’s his name.”

There was a moment of silence before Isabelle started to scream on the other line.  Alec had to hold the phone out from his ear.

“Iz? Isabelle?  Can you stop screaming I kind of need my hearing.”

Laughing Isabelle stopped her yells and took in a few deep breaths.

“Alec, Magnus Bane?  He’s only one of New York’s most prominent eligible bachelors.  He frequents bars, restaurants, and night clubs sometimes. And he, Oh!  He must have seen you were a damsel in need of rescuing and decided—”

“Isabelle, I am not a damsel.”  Alec interrupted, feeling all the hope and excitement from the date drain from him.

There was another moment of silence before she answered.

“Alec listen, I didn’t mean anything by that.  Magnus Bane has very high standards when it comes to those he takes interest it, he might have a reputation of sorts but he really is a good guy, at least from what I understand.”

“Iz if you think that’s suppose to make me feel better—”

His phone buzzed and he noticed a text message from Magnus.

“Not home yet, but I can’t stop thinking about you.  Tonight, was fantastic, but I have a confession to make.  I wasn’t your blind date.  I saw you sitting there looking absolutely stunning and the idea of leaving you alone seemed cruel to me.  So, I took a chance and I am glad I did.  If you forgive me, I’d like to see you again.  What do you say?”

Alec felt the wind knock itself out of him, and he actually smiled.

“Isabelle, I’ll call you later I have a text to respond to.”

And without letting her respond he hung up.

[an-odd-idea]

BTS “ON” music video: The most probable interpretation I came up with

I didn’t know exactly what was up in the music video, and I heard even they didn’t know what was happening, so I tried to figure out what might be going on.

The boys and other people live in a land behind a high wall that people are afraid to venture beyond. I think the other side of the wall may represent facing your demons or confronting the problems with the world, and the people behind the wall choose to hide and live in denial or apathy instead.

When the video starts, fighting has broken out between the people who want to venture beyond te wall and the people who are against it. Seokjin is one of the people who wants to go out. The dove on the arrow is one he sent out to see if anything can live on the other side of the wall, but someone has shot it down to stop him. He’s starting to despair of ever getting any answers.

Jungkook also wants to go past the wall. Maybe he got too eager and was arrested for stirring up the people too much. He may have been thrown out beyond the wall with the expectation that he’ll die there, or maybe he was going to be executed and is escaping where he knows they won’t dare follow him. The way Seokjin looks to the side right before it switches to the scene of Jungkook running, it might have been him who helped him escape, and now he’s thinking of him and hoping he makes it.

The song starts, and Jimin is singing about not being sure who to believe or what to do. He’s standing between a pile of discarded drums, and one person playing a drum: the many who gave up and the few who press on.

Taehyung is apathetic. He’s stranded in the desert with the little girl, with nothing meaningful around, and he’s more or less accepted that they’re both just going to stay there. He kind of doesn’t care anymore and is just laying there, since he feels there’s no point even trying to change anything. The blindfold on the girl might be because he’s trying to hide the dismal situation from her and let her keep thinking it’s okay for as long as she can, before she has to open her eyes and realize how empty their life really is where they are.

Namjoon has a ship in the desert, with animals around him. This looks like a clear reference to Noah’s ark, which also connects to Seokjin’s doves. Namjoon’s lyrics talk about knowing what to do but being afraid; maybe he knows he needs a flood to get himself and the animals in his care to somewhere they can live, but he’s afraid. The boat is battered and the sails are torn; he’s shipwrecked before he can even begin, because there’s nothing he can do while stuck behind the wall.

While Namjoon sings about moving awkwardly and uncertainly forward, that’s what Jungkook is doing as he stumbles along. Life beyond the wall, and confronting whatever demons he’s been hiding from is a lot harder than he thought, but he’s trying to press on. At the same time, we see that the land there is much greener and richer than the land behind the wall, with trees instead of deserts and open grassland.

Seokjin enters a room with many empty bird cages; he’s been doing this for a long time without success. The lyrics say you can’t get him down because he’s a fighter, and he looks like he’s going to keep trying.

The lyrics then say “carried myself into a beautiful prison” while we see Jimin still trying to make up his mind. The people living behind the wall are hiding by choice. They have a life there, and it’s a kind of okay life, but they’re missing so much by staying inside.

The chorus starts, talking about bringing the pain on. Seokjin finds hope in the form of another dove. Jimin starts to move toward the man with the drum as he decides he wants to go beyond the wall, too. Namjoon seems to be struggling over a decision. Jungkook starts running again, no longer looking back like his being chased but seeming determined, and they all push on despite the difficulty.

Finally, Jungkook gets too exhausted and falls. Based on the next scene, this may represent part of the old him dying. Right after Jungkook falls and his eyes close, we see Hoseok surrounded by strange, skeletal trees. Jungkook is laying in the background and a bird appears to be picking at him. Jungkook isn’t actually dead, I think, but this represents part of his old self dying as he changes.

Hoseok is dressed differently from all the others, in much more modern looking clothes, and my theory is that he’s an early scout who went out to see what it was like beyond the wall. His old self died, too, but he’s alive and healthy while surrounded by what looks like death. He’s learned to live while facing the demons and his lyrics talk about pain, but also that he now knows the way and has air and light. It’s difficult, but he’s doing well and now has a fuller life than he did before. He can’t go back to the place behind the wall, and hasn’t returned.

Yoongi immediately echos Hoseok’s last line. They stand for the same thing, and may have worked together trying to persuade people to try going past the wall before. Hoseok has been gone a while, and most people might think he’s dead, but Yoongi believes he’s still alive and is trying even harder to persuade people to go out and hopefully find him. He looks like he’s talking to a group of the people’s leaders, who are ignoring him, but he doesn’t care, as the lyrics say.

Taehyung starts to think there might be something more and takes action for the first time, getting up and going to the little girl. He sings “gotta go insane to stay sane” like he still thinks this is crazy, but he’s tired of living somewhere so empty, and can’t sit idly by and let the little girl live that way too. Jimin begins walking forward while singing about being a fighter.

The gate in the wall, covered with plants from how long it’s been closed, starts to open as Taehyung takes the blindfold off the little girl. He wants her to open her eyes and see the hope for something more that he has now, but to do that he also has to stop trying to hide the current situation from her. She has to decide for herself whether to stay where it’s safe but empty or to go out into the unknown. She takes his hand and decides to go.

Jungkook isn’t dead. He’s on his feet again, looked tired, but calmer and more sure of his decision to leave the wall now. He encounters a pond, a contrast to the desert we’ve just seen Taehyung and the girl in. He starts to sing about pain as well, but just like Hoseok, now he’s not afraid. He chooses to descend into the water like the lyrics say about choosing to descend into an abyss, and he’s starting to really embrace the life on the other side of the wall, although his hands are still tied.

The other boys start to walk toward the open gate where Taehyung and the girl are, and now they have other people following their example. Hoseok is back, presumably because the gate is now open so he isn’t going back to being trapped there. I think it’s sweet that he walks so close to Yoongi and bumps his shoulder; maybe now that he’s actually about to go outside Yoongi doesn’t feel quite as brave as before, but Hoseok’s been there already.

Jungkook puts his bound hands in the water, and they’re set free, as Seokjin sets the dove free. Jungkook’s wrists, which were cut from the thorns tying them, are also healed. The boys have chosen to confront whatever demons there are, and it’s setting them free and making them better. The land on the other side of the gate for the others doesn’t look quite as lush as it does around Jungkook; they’re still afraid and not completely sure yet.

The water in the shell Jungkook picks up looks beautiful, and maybe that’s supposed to make sure you know life is richer out here; the pond is the first water we’ve seen in the video, after lots of scenes in dry places, so that’s a neat scene.

I’m not sure why Jungkook blows on the shell. Maybe to show he’s made his decision and he’s committed to life outside the wall, or maybe to signal to people still inside that he made it, and they can, too.

Then dark clouds roll in; it isn’t going to be quite that easy. The boys have to confront the versions of themselves in the red robes who still want to stay back. The ones who want to leave are dancing like their lives depend on it, and the versions of them who want to stay only have to stand there, because it’s much more effort to change than to stay. This is the first time all seven of them have been together in the video, and I assume they win now because they’re there to support each other. There’s fire and a volcanic eruption; it’s scary, but then the land beyond the wall springs into bloom; they’re sure now, and they’re ready to go.

Namjoon leads them on, which is a cool touch, since we saw him earlier unable to take the animals in his care to a better place; now he can actually point to something good ahead. It also helps that he has people with him now who will also support him.

They’re walking uphill now (climbing Pride Rock, apparently) and moving slowly, maybe because it’s still harder than they anticipated. Jungkook sees seven (hard to count, but it has to be) doves flying above them, gets a burst of energy again, and starts running toward the top of the cliff with the others following. Does it represent the leap into a new world, are they about to jump off and start flying or something? Heck if I know, but what a cool video.

I may have totally made all that up, so don’t take my word for it, that’s just what I got from the video.

[grim-faux]

2 _ 10 _ The Prison and its Key

First

 The door came to rest on familiar shores. Familiar sights, familiar smells. This place he knew from somewhere, but he didn’t understand the where. It was like following footprints in the sand, the impression the same shape and depth as the succeeding step in the endless pattern. Where did they go, this shadow of the pioneer? How would they meet?

 They wandered the shore for some time, utterly lost. He was lost, but She was following. The-this-many-fingers girl. The Six. Dragging along in too large pajamas, looking displaced but rigid despite circumstances.

 He’s ecstatic but also frightened about the development. Is she a new pack mate? She travels with him, but that is likely due to no place they could be going, to separate. No go or reach, not with the impervious walls of folded buildings and crumbling cement. The city side is collapsing into the beach and shallows, but there is no place else to wander into. Nothing, unless back to the sea.

 One day he caught her a fish, and she seemed astonished by the gesture.

 “No?” he hummed, softer than a weeping leaf. It wasn’t the best fish, he’d admit. Floundered from muddy shoals, mostly scale and spines. But she snatched the fish away and ate up everything of it that was chewable.

 At first he is unsure if she can keep up. If she would want to. The loss of his former pack, it hurts. The hurt hasn’t faded much, and he is afraid. They should be safe, a small pack. This might work. They call in soft murmurs and whispers, move swiftly hand in hand when strange sounds emerge around the shadows of leaning walls.

 The strange glitchy child gave him direction. Beneath a mournful bulb glimmering against the infinite collision of brick, a crooked door hung above crumbling steps. The door creaked on a salty gust.

 He takes her hand and shows her the way. Still, there are times she is fearful of light, where the lines in your shape are sculpted from the shadows. It is fine. He squeezed her hand and tugged her along.

 “Come. Come,” he cooed. There is nothing on the beach. They can’t eat fog, they can’t drink tears – the air is salty and they are parched of color. “Here.” After some coaxing and gentle towing, she does follow him.

 They leave the beach and enter into a familiar scene of decay and forgot. It’s as Mono suspected, nothing in the ruins is viable or worth noting; aside from apparent desertion. The air is stale and murky, the jagged floorboards dusty. No footprints, at least. This doesn’t put him to ease. Neither is the girl. Her caution in the near certifiable absence of danger, does make Mono optimistic.

 In their venture onward, the girl proved herself reliable, maybe trustworthy. All good. Quick witted and spry, though she didn’t seem as strong as him. Discarded tools such as pipes and knives gave her a struggle, though she didn’t make the grand try at stealing any. However, she is better in other ways, where he is not. That was good. Together, they are balance.

 When they got separated, or he had to go off on his own, she would risk making noise and call for him. Try and get him back. He would call back, let her know he was coming or hadn’t forgot her. Wasn’t leave. In the first few days it didn’t happen often, not by an accident. They traveled very close, slipping through cluttered alleys and the murk throughout the twisted pathway. He got to show her how to use a fuse to spur lights in some drafty building, and she showed him how to eat sweet goo with dry crackers.

 She was kind of weird. While jam mashed with crackers was good, who did that? It was faster to eat one or the other first, usually the crackers, then the jam. Whatever, it made share easier.

 And they did share food, like packmates would. He found something, or she found something. If there was enough to divide out, then they made sure to get the others attention. She was usually better at finding foods, and she always made certain he got something.

 It was a stupid fight. That’s how he wound up in the hole. A dumb fight, and he couldn’t recall at all what the skirmish was about. Most likely food or something, or someone caught him with a television again. The point being, he got away because he and his pack had a dumb fight. He was on the fringe of the snatching, only on account he couldn’t reach the door when the smoke unwound its snare. But he fell into the hole, like a dolt. If he had the chance he could’ve made right, he could’ve fixed what he broke. But the Snatcher. They were gone. He was here still but they were gone, and they would never come back.

 He wanted to do better. He knew better now.

 The schoolyard had many things to look at – a swing, some goalie frames, a see-saw, a sad little shadow. He was distracted by one side, she by the other. They were not glued together. Under somber moon shower, they tried to understand the things. By the swing he met her, she sat on the platform and he pushed her. The rope gave a soothing whisper as it rolled across the bar above. The see-saw was a different matter, it took a few minutes to figure out its gimmick. They tried to balance on it at either end, he fell off, she pushed one end up and the other crashed down over his back.

 When they did figure out the game with the see-saw, they abandoned it briskly. When either side hurtled down, it cracked against the coarse pavement. It was too loud.

 A bundled sheet hung from a window high in the building that loomed over the stony yard. That wasn’t there before, he’s certain. Isn’t he? Either way, it was someplace to check now. Take on shelter, search for food. They will never see who let down the line. To get away, he knows, but he doesn’t hesitate to climb.

 “Hey,” he rasped. “Up. Let’s go.” He wasn’t certain if she would come. She didn’t need to, not if there was someplace she wanted to go or see. The girl didn’t have to follow, but not many paths are open to children, even less for one lone packless kid to get through.

 The rope snapped tight against his toes. She was climbing. He almost lost his grip, his heart was doing flips. It would be all right. They would be all right.

 When he reached the ledge, he centered his balanced and peered into the gloom, taking the time to listen for the air. He sniffed. That smell. He hated it! Burning! No! NoNoNo NoNoNo NoNoNo!

 He recoiled and nearly lost his balance, if she hadn’t caught him by the shoulders and shoved him forward. They sway on the sill – it’s either pitch backwards to certain death, or drop into this unknown place with unknown dangers.

 Unknown was better than a certain and sudden. They topple to the floor in a heap, the floorboards crackled beneath the combined weight. She’s up first, crouched and frozen in place. He didn’t bother pulling himself together and let the silence settle, waiting for thundering steps, a growl. When no other noise announced itself, he took in their surroundings.

 The lights worked. Ruin lay across the corridor, the planks bent across the floor and the paneling of the walls warped. Long dresser benches lined the walls and the coat racks above sat ripe with backpacks and coats.

 He eased up and slunk forward. There was no way out, not together. If he or she boosted up to the windowsill, there was no way for the other up. It made him wonder how the other kid got out of the window in the first place. Unless, they abandoned their friend.

 The burning smell emerged from a canister, between the dresser benches. He approached on feathery strides, as if anticipating something to lunge out and snag his face. His paper bag didn’t do much to bar out the smell, even so, he moved closer.

 Whatever was burned, it was ash and bits of remains. He took the handle of a charred cane a rifled around the coals. A piece of… it looked like a face.

 She was beside him, staring into the container. She made her speek beside his bag mask. What?

 He took her hand and led away.

 The only path was to the right. He had no complaints, the creepy pictures on the wall stared at them. The corridor they turned into had nothing, aside from one open door. It was lit and passive, so he led her by the hand.

 She tugged at his sleeve as they stood by the boarder of the light, taking in the room. Bedframe upon bedframe stacked to the ceiling, blocks of wood with speek, an assortment of toys piled under the beds. What was this place?

 She was trying to tell him something, but he didn’t understand the speek. If he let her hand go, would she flee?

 She didn’t. She gestured him to move and come away. There was no place to go, nowhere to run. The corridor was barred with furniture and bedframes, it couldn’t be safe to squeeze through that.

 Eventually, he got Her to calm. He pulled her to the side next to a set of small dressers, and crawled under one of the beds. While she huddled down and hid, he went through the room. Listening for the breeze, checking the shadows and climbing up the side of the stacked bedframes. More toys lay on the beds. He found a few crayons and some paper.

 He returned to her with the finds, and a blanket tugged off one of the beds. He draped the blanket over her and him, then showed her the pages. He drew a figure with a coat and a bag, and a key.

 “Mono.” He did another picture. “Tree.”

 She blinked. Then, took a page and a crayon. He watched intently as she scratched down the lines, forming a box with lines. “Cage.” She put a small figure huddled inside the tight bars. “Prison.” She held the page up and tapped it. “Prison.” On a clean page, she etched in the bedframes stacked, among other likeness of the room. Then, she lay the cage and its occupant over the bedframe picture.

 “Prison.”

 Mono sounded out the speek. She worked with him a few times, it was hard because she wouldn’t raise her voice. To be certain, he did a picture of a large, gnarled figure clasping a small figure of a child. It could only be a child. It didn’t necessarily have to be a monster with a sack and an eyehole, it only had to be bigger and terrible.

 “Prison?”

 She shook her head. “Take.” That speek was different.

 This time, he did a picture of a child alone in a box, with only one door. He put small lines behind her, and added the music box.

 “Prison?”

 She snatched the page away and tilted her head. But offered nothing.

 This went back and forth for some time. Making frail noises at the other, passing speek between them with pictures. Over and over. Until, Mono knew nothing.

 The haunts dragged him back to the waking world. A pleasant world, wherein he can focus on other thing sites, and not have to stare at the hallowed faces of the ones he ran from. He is still curled up under the bed, clutching he blanket to his chest. A faint rasp escaped him.

 Six is on the other side of the room, examining a music box hidden by the murk of the other bed. It doesn’t make a sound when she twisted the crank. She’s up and moving, a certain indicator nothing has alerted Her since he nodded off. He hated sleeping.

 “Sleep?” he posed, as he crawled along the floor to her. She looked his way and shook her head. “Bad if not.”

 She gave him a firm scowl, nose crinkled beneath her bangs. Definite NO. It’s not safe to travel on no sleep, but he won’t argue with angry girl. She didn’t hesitate to raise the rifle.

 The room is too interesting to leave immediately. Especially since She is more relaxed now, exploring up the beds and pulling out toys. It’s not incredibly warm, but the air is not drafty or clammy from nearby shore. What little bit of food they previously scavenged off and around the buildings staved off the necessity to explore out immediately, and Mono had no clue where they could venture to next. Not out the window, when no way for both of them to escape was apparent. If they had something to stand on….

 A somewhat deflated ball provided amusing distraction. It made a little sound when it fumped against the floor or a bedframe, but they overlooked that in order to chase it a bit. The game was simple, keep the other from the ball by carrying it or tossing it. If tossed too hard, the ball didn’t go wild and rebound all over the place. At one point he tried to hide it under himself and his coat, a poorly built plan fabricated by his tuckered-out head. This made girl mad, especially when he wouldn’t relinquish the toy.

 This initiated a first but mediocre wrestle between them. He was surprised, the girl was a lot stronger than she made out. The two scuffle around a bit, until it’s not worth it, and he didn’t want the ball anyway. She could have it. For a time they separate. She goes to a corner of the room and sleeps, while he watched… and raided the dressers for a new hat or foods.

 A page of paper folded into an arrow made not a whisper, and when he tossed it, the thing sort of… floated. Like the door, but on air. He showed it to her, showed her how it worked. The two spent some time tossing it back and forth, taking turns chasing or catching. He almost got a giggle out of her, or a smile. He knew he was grinning, but she couldn’t see that

 Another game they played was when they climbed the bedsides, searching for anything amiss. Maybe food. Mono liked to hang from the sheets.

 “Hey. Fall.” Then, he would slowly slip backwards little by little, always secured by his grip, and never high enough to warrant real danger. “I fall.”

 Upon hearing his whimper, she’d clamber over from wherever she’d been perched and snatch his wrist. They’d make a grand drama of her pulling him up, and once ‘saved’ he’d supply a wild show of gratitude. Even she took turns of the game, giving a little yelp and dangling with her legs kicking below. No real reason, just to make the other stop whatever they were up to and come over.

 These theatrics came to an end when she… maybe actually got into some real trouble with climbing the bed, and wound up really dangling from the second highest bed. Too high for safe. Mono scrambled up to assist as she lost her grip, but was too late to secure his own hold before an attempt to hoist her up. If not for his hand knotted in the blanket cover stalling their decent, someone might’ve shattered a bone. They lay badly bruised and a little sore, but not debilitated.

 Though the room was very nice and began to feel safe, it was still a prison. As Six called it. A cage with an open door, which had nothing to offer its occupants. They needed to figure out where to go, explore around, and locate something edible. Soon.

 For no reason, She snatched one of the off tune music boxes and he took the folded plane. They revisited the corridor, first checking the furniture and desks jammed into the hallway preventing passage.

 “Through,” she posed. She hefted up the metal casing of the music box, but rethought chucking that at the knotted mess and lowered the treasure.

 “Not safe,” he echoed. She followed him, all the way back to the window they climbed up through. The smoke stink wasn’t so strong now, if possible that upset him even more. He stood beneath the window glaring at the pale sky soaking up tinges of yellow and green, early dawn. On impulse he tossed the paper plane and watched it crest the windowsill, the tail dipped out of sight. Gone. Free.

 The kid before them, climbed down the makeshift rope they built. How did they climb up from this side? More importantly, what did they escape from?

 That was a dumb question. What child wasn’t running from something? The world was unforgiving and dangerous, hardly anything out roaming the roads wasn’t intent on catching or killing.

 Side-by-side, they ambled to the other end of the corridor. She set each footstep purposefully on the floorboards, while he examined the floor and walls interchangeably for breaks or minor flaws. When they reach the opposite side, his eyes alit on something he hadn’t given much credit earlier.

 A switch. An electrical switch.

 He pulled his hand from Her’s and gave a leap, snagging the broad handle. A little hiss escaped her when the latch clicked. Through the intersecting corridors the radiance doused, nearly entirely.

 Nearly. Where the ghastly pictures hung, light punched through twin holes and stabbed into the floor. “Trick,” he muttered, and released the switch. The lights remained inactive, every inch of the corridor held captive to drafty gray and icy haze. Except for where the illumination cleaved through the shadows, some illumination flooded in from somewhere.

 The face of the framed portrait was frightening and creepy. Even with no substantial eyes to speak of, it felt as if those gaping holes chiseled right through his soul. Without a thought he flashed his hand out and took her palm against his.

 He didn’t want to go. He did not, didnotdidnotdidnot! DID NOT! have the drive to leave the safe area. Yet, there was nowhere else for them,  and they needed to begin moving. It was only a matter of time before something stumbled upon them when they least expected, while they dipped into a vulnerable stupor.

 “Danger,” she uttered.

 He sighed and dipped the paper bag. “All it place danger.” The only assurance he found for momentary safety, was never stop moving. He learned that… the hard way.

 With her hand in his, they made the trip back to the room that was a prison. He selected the ball, and she took up a building block this time. He would make that portrait stop looking at them.

Next

[babythingcoffee-blog]

Birds of a Feather: Prologue | Like a Lead Balloon

Read on Ao3, Wattpad and Patreon! Or - Keep reading!

Right from the center of the Eden garden moved a snake. His shiny black scales reflecting the sunlight onto every leaf and petal he came across while passing through. The snake had just changed a course of events that would put in motion the whole of human history, but his own most significant encounter had yet to happen.

Not only had his lot asked him to "go up there and make some trouble", but he also had a much more prominent task to fulfill. Being the snake of Eden didn't mean THAT much back then, but it sure would in the near and distant future, the eternal Demon Crawly, cast out of Heaven and set on Earth by Hell to both bring down souls but most importantly, to destroy any form of angel to roam near him. Now, he didn't know what had happened to Heaven, how many of its soldiers would come down and how strong they were but Hell had been clear on that. Destroy the forces of the opposition, at any cost.

The wiley serpent came across a hole in the wall as he slithered, someone had made it up recently. Adam perhaps, in a desperate attempt at escaping Her fury. As soon as he turned away from it he had to hide between bushes as quickly as his slithering body allowed him. Behind a few trees, an angel with white curly hair and a white gown was seemingly pacing around nervously for some reason.

Bare feet idly tread across the barren dirt a mere few feet ahead of the prying eyes. A disgruntled yet anxious angel seeming distant and unaffected by the world around him. Ignoring the distant cry of birds, or the growing hammer of thunder rolling in from off the horizon.

How could such a thing have happened? Under HIS guard? A Principality - guardian of the Eastern Gate. His only instructions to keep such dastardly fiends out of the garden. Even having received a flaming sword from the almighty Herself - one that still hummed and glowed within his hands. Illuminating the dew upon the leaves surrounding him.

Now Eve was already due and the garden was no longer safe for her nor Adam. For both of their sake, they would have to leave and venture out into the unknown. With beasts and creatures at every waking corner.

A rustling from the nearby bushes finally seemed to snap the angel out of his internal quarrel, causing him to snap his head up and peer up over the growing foliage. Of course, all there was to expect was none other than Adam and Eve themselves and the angel couldn't help but feel their stomach churn with guilt and dismay at the sight. The couple shrouded towards the quite obvious break in the wall, just barely large enough to fit through. The angel soon stepped forward, their grip on the sword growing tighter and tighter the closer they got to the couple who peered upwards. Clearly afraid they were either going to be stopped or reprimanded by the guardian.

"Here you are-" The angel suddenly blurted out, immediately outstretching his arm towards the couple.

Adam - the first of mankind appeared hesitant at first and even shied away from the threatening weapon. However, upon realizing the ethereal being’s intent, carefully took it into their own hands.

"Flaming sword. Should keep you safe - no need to thank me." The angel blurted out all at once, nerves rising.

Oh Lord, what was he thinking? Giving away such a thing? A weapon made for him and him specifically to keep up with his task - a task he had clearly failed miserably. Now what? He was just going to give it away? While a demon still lurked in the garden?

"And please... don't let the sun go down on you here."

Once more the couple hesitated, Eve, spared a glance towards her partner who seemed evermore perplexed by the sword. By the time his gaze lifted, the angel did no more than gesture back towards the hole. Urging them onward and outward, fearing what may happen if they stayed but a moment longer.

The serpent stared incredulously at the scene. Did an almighty angel just give out a flaming sword to humans just… because?! Angels weren't like that the last time he had checked and even so... He shook his head. Admiration? For an angel? Ridiculous. But now, looking at it from the right perspective… An angel had just given away his most powerful weapon. Yes, this was the perfect chance. He watched as Adam and Eve quickly left the garden and slithered silently behind a tree trunk. He took one last look at the angel before turning into the new corporation Hell had given him. He was very aware that the Principality, which he didn't yet know was his title, could have heard him but it was not the time to back down. 'C'mon you can do this, you can do this' he thought to himself, he hadn't spoken anything to anyone aside from his slytherin whispers but he did know how to, and he sure did know the angel could too. Was he even gonna share words with him before entering a fight? His inner thoughts and his breath were overwhelming him so much he wouldn't have noticed Aziraphale getting closer anyway.

The Principality could only watch as the couple slowly but surely made their way through the desert- finally leaving the safety of the garden and into a whole new and otherwise unexplored world. It was quite dreadful that such an act had to occur, he merely hoped that he had done the right thing and that both parents and their unborn child would be safe.

The angel couldn't help but allow his eyes to close, if but for a moment as a rush of wind swept past them. Feeling the phantom heart in their chest rap hurriedly against his chest. Knowing he would be reprimanded for sure.

However, his thoughts were put on hold by a sound coming from the bushes once more. Seemingly from behind him. As much as he would love more for it to merely be an animal or critter coming to wish the couple farewell, recent circumstances seemed to indicate otherwise.

Hesitantly, the Principality turned back towards the forest. Eyeing the foliage for anything odd or out of place, steadying his stance in case that fiend decided to follow the couple. That was certainly something he could not allow.

Yet without his flaming sword... Well, he wasn't useless per se but... My, my it certainly would have helped. Instead, the Principality opted for a fallen tree branch laying idly near the wall. Most certainly wasn't as good as a sword, but the pointed end would at least make quick work discorperating what may be lurking in the bushes.

Light on his feet, the angel travelled onward. Carefully and steadily inching further and further from the wall until he came upon a rather peculiar sight, to say the least.

Facing away from him seemed to be a figure, shrouded in the darkest robes he had ever seen yet with hair as bright and unyielding as the bundle of roses the angel had come across just the other day. Their hair was extraordinarily long and appeared to curl perfectly between a pair of inky black wings. As dark and frightful as the night sky. A demon no-less. 

Immediately the angel’s heart leapt into his throat, a sudden rush of hopelessness and worry clouding his vision if but for a moment. Fearful of what this creature might hold. Fearful of encountering it, but he was a Principality. A soldier. He was the only defence between the garden and imposing demons. He could not be afraid. Not even for a moment.

Instead of fleeing, the angel found courage and approached once more until he was just on the opposite side of the tree trunk. His opponent mere feet away from him. In but an instant, the Principality reached forward and grabbed a lock of the creature's hair- forcing their head to rest back onto the top of the tree trunk. Only a moment later did the broken branch find its place just beneath the fiend's Adam's apple. The spikes on the makeshift weapon ready to piece their flesh within a moment's notice.

The demon was taken by surprise at the sudden grip on his hair and spikes pointed at his throat, he gasped, his heart starting to race. 'No-no-no. How did I get myself defeated already?!' 

But oh. This was quite different indeed. Among the angels, no one appeared to have hair as long as the serpents. Most opting for shorter hair after the war but... What was most surprising was just how normal they appeared. Having a similar human corporation. And here the Principality was, having expected something matted and beastly and altogether too far gone to be considered heavenly. And yet? He could have easily mistaken him for an angel - if not for the darkened wings and pungent scent of sulphur waving off of them.

"It's certainly no flaming sword but it shall hurt no less once I discorporate you. State your purpose, demon."

Of course, being no flaming sword nor holy water it wouldn't have killed him for the strict sense of the word, but still, being discorporated was highly inconvenient and laughed upon by other demons. Especially considering it to be so soon.

But with big surprise, the angel didn't discorporate him right away and he even asked him a question..? Maybe it wasn't too late, he could have played it in his favour, he only had to hope he was malleable. 

He gulped once more, his Adam's apple struggling under the branch. 

"There's no need for such violence, is there..?" He managed to speak out his warmest and most fluent voice, despite his raspy overtone. Charming to say the least. 

"I would gladly present myself if you came in sight, much harder to do when I'm only facing trees." His smug tone came out like an invite, a slight smirk running across his face.

Saying that the demon had caught the angel off guard would be a complete understatement. Of course, the angel had been prepared for a fight. For cruel and harsh words to be shared between them before the demon would show their true colours. Perhaps form claws or fangs or... have their hair suddenly turn into a bouquet of snakes? Whatever demons did, or however they looked outside of their corporation. Anything but this really.

"I beg your pardon?" Was all the Principality could think to ask, eyes flickering over the others' form.

A look of bewilderment crossed over the angel’s face in coordination with the demon’s inviting smirk. Eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing in reply.

Being so up close, the angel had to admit he was once again a little underwhelmed by the demon. Once more having expected some horrid and ugly creature, ready to rip his throat out at any given moment. But now? With the red-haired demon beneath him and with practically a splinter pressed against his neck, the angel seemed to be the only one of the two who was barbaric. Especially considering the demon had a much smaller frame to him.

The demon once again gulped, still feeling the pressure. Maybe this wasn't working, he had to think of something fast. 

"Well, you… you've asked a question but I can't really think of how to reply when you're pointing a scary spooky branch at my throat and yanking on my hair. Would you mind getting in my field of vision?" 

Despite, of course, wanting a clearer sight of the opponent to possibly strike at him, he couldn't deny to himself he was terribly curious to look at him. He had only seen him for a brief moment before having to hide back and curiously he didn't seem to be the kind of angel he had expected to guard the gate of Eden, not someone like Gabriel for a start. A lot less imperative you could say, but he still needed a closer look to be sure of that.

Oh now, this had to be a trick, certainly. Just as the angel had gotten the demon in such a vulnerable state, they were looking for a way to weasel their way out of it.

Though, the angel had to admit... The demon truly wasn't doing much to warrant such an aggressive introduction. Merely minding his own business it had seemed. Nonetheless, the Principality saw no harm in playing coy - if but for a moment.

A gentle sigh left the angel's lips as they slowly lifted the makeshift weapon off from the demon’s neck, seeing a thin red mark where the branch once lay. Following suit, they slowly and gently released the bundle of red hair from within their grasp, allowing the demon to move as they pleased.

Crawly finally let out a breath of relief, closing his eyes. He quickly regained himself and rubbed his neck, fixing his hair from the yank as well but not turning around. Just yet.

The angel watched intently at first, cocking his head and unfurrowing his brows as he watched the demon carefully tidy himself up. Fix up his hair and the suchlike from the angel’s assault, and quite like a fool - he let them. 

As soon as Crawly moved his hand from his hair he quickly reached back to grab the angel by the collar of his gown and pulled him against the wall, eyes glowing and pointy fangs showing in a snarl.

Oh now, this - this is much more what Aziraphale was expecting. Serpentine eyes and fangs and the suchlike... But still. Wasn't quite as horrifying or demonic as the other angels had made out, but much more closer to the Principality’s expectations.

If he wasn't so caught up in adrenaline he would have felt his whole body shake furiously. The serpent of Eden had NEVER been so close to an angel since he had become a demon, and absolutely never touched one. He made sure the strong pull he gave him was enough to make him lose grip on the branch and now he was in control not only of him but of his life. Angels had many weapons against demons but without them, most of them weren't much of a fight, while demons… they only had one, and they only needed one. They controlled Hellfire and there was nothing an angel could do against it. But this demon, he had never killed an angel, he had never killed anything. And, he would have never admitted it, but at that moment he had no desire to do so. His gaze easily started to flutter around Azirpahale's facial features. He looked so damn soft to be a guardian, what was Heaven thinking?! 'Who is this guy supposed to scare now?' He thought, still pressing him fiercely against the wall.

While the angel was most certainly caught off guard, their facial expressions didn't overtly seem to hint as to whether the angel was enraged or frightened. Which - if the angel was being truthful - he didn't really feel either. He was just doing his job, that's all, and the demon his. And well, as the archangels said he was merely expendable. Many more soldiers where he came from and all that and now that Adam and Eve were gone he wasn't rightfully sure what purpose he had. Hardly a reason to be afraid or angered. At least he wouldn't have to do the paperwork.

The Guardian of the Eastern Gate could only open and close their shallow fist, having realized their only real means of defence had been dropped. Instead of wriggling or trying to shake the demon off, he merely complied and allowed himself to be pinned against the wall. The back of his head stinging a bit from the impact.

The angel's baby blue gaze slowly flickered over the redhead’s form once more, taking in much more detail now that they were face to face - and so close at that. Though it didn't take much before the angel met those golden eyes, his brows furrowed in confusion once more.

"Are you quite sure you're a demon?" He suddenly asked.

"No offence - really. Awfully clever and frightful you are but... Erm..."

Crawly's eyes widened from confusion, the snarl slowly being replaced by a slightly open frown that had no words to spread. His hands trembled in the hold, his willingness to kill him fading more and more away as he kept looking at him, his lips now trembling a little as well. His white hair looked so pure, as was expected, but it gave him a calming feeling that he would have never imagined to feel in front of an angel. His eyes followed as well, getting him lost in his thoughts with that angelic yet completely oblivious expression. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Uh… I..." He only managed to blurt out a few sounds, not really much of a conversationalist, so he tried a bit harder. 

"I'm… pretty sure I am. What… what do you mean?"

Why did he even want to know what some Principality thought about him?! Why did he even indulge so much instead of burning him down? It was probably a trick anyway. It had to be and yet…

"Mmnn. Well..." The angel trailed off, unable to deny the small heartache he felt in response to the demon’s reaction.

Surely it must have been a hurtful thing to ask, having been an angel once before. Though truthfully he hadn't expected this reaction either. Expecting such a creature to only be filled with anger and hellfire. Certainly not as... Well, human as this.

"As far as I've been told, demons are supposed to be quite hideous in fact. 'Unholy combination of man and beast' if I could recall being told... but..." The angel trailed off yet again.

The Principality could feel his wings flap helplessly against the wall, certainly not used to being pinned in such an uncomfortable position. Truly though, he had to admit he worried he had gotten the whole thing wrong. No trick, no lies. Just - overtly confused.

"...well. I'm sure you've seen your corporation. You don't exactly fit the description for hideous... Are all demons supposed to be as pretty as you? I'm quite worried I've been misinformed."

Crawly looked even more surprised, more shocked in fact. His cheeks felt as if they were burning at the angel's words, his heart racing, unable to process the situation. He knew that if he spoke another word he would have probably started stuttering. His nervousness shifted his embarrassment into a violent chuckle. He looked down and slowly let go of the robe as he kept chuckling.

"Oh, now I get it. You're completely out of your mind. That's why you gave the sword away and all that, you don't reason correctly. Heaven must have sent you down here because you weren't useful up there." The demon immediately regretted saying it all. That was awfully mean, unnecessary and evil but he did try to burn him down a few seconds before… so this was better, maybe. 

That wasn't what he wanted to say, it really wasn't, but he had no other way to process the way Aziraphale was acting. He had just complimented him for Hell's sake, what was he supposed to answer or even think of that.

"I beg your pardon?" Aziraphale blurted out, quite taken aback by the demon's laughter and words. Having not expected such an adverse reaction at all.

At this, the angel couldn't help but scowl. Eyes narrowing as he pursed his lips once more. Very much not appreciating the reply, and especially not understanding what exactly was so funny.

"Lord, you sound quite like Gabriel." The Principality all but groaned under their breath.

"Now, see - see here you fiend. There are beasts and animals out there, it will be cold and dark soon - and she's expecting already! No thanks to you I presume. As though I were going to let them walk out of here without a means to defend themselves." The angel huffed, quite matter of factly.

"Put it to me to think a demon would have the common decency." They signed, hoping the couple had managed to put some distance between them and the garden. At least be able to hide from the fiend pinning them to the wall.

"And for your information - I'm of Principality. A soldier if you would, and I'm hardly the last either. Whether I'm discorperated or killed, you'll have to deal with another soon enough."

Crawly moved away from him a little, letting him go. 

"Well then I can't let you be substituted by someone more competent can I?" He gave him a slight smirk and looked up at the wall, trusting he wouldn't turn upon him with the branch so quickly. 

"I don't know about you but I'm definitely going to take a look at the two lovebirds out there." He started and without waiting for a reply, he flew up over the wall and landed gently on his feet, moving a portion of his hair behind his ear. 

"Hm? Now hold on a minute-" the angel blurted out, clearly either not heard or ignored as the demon suddenly took to the skies.

He needed a moment to process the encounter, even if the Principality was following him up there again in a moment. He sighed out silently and moved his gaze to the outside desert as the couple encountered their first enemy.

"Oh- oh my."

At first, the Principality thought the darkened wings sickly. His stomach churning at the thought of pure white wings suddenly singeing and going dark... But - they hadn't appeared as awful up close. Once more seemingly painted like the night. Especially as the demon took to the skies, it was hard to deny how iridescent and breathtaking their wings were. Only thinking to relate them to that of a raven - but even then a Raven’s wings barely compared.

The Principality took a deep breath, holding their tongue as they watched the demon suddenly land on the top of the wall. Worrying he would catch sight of the couple and end up flying after them.

Thus, he outstretched his wings and took off as well. Following close behind the redhead and managing to make it to the top of the wall with a single flap of his wings. Only tucking them back in and close to his corporation to ensure he did not miss landing on the wall.

He landed alongside the demon, eyes fixated on him. Ensuring that he would not disappear from his sight. As soon as he landed and stepped forward, he opened his mouth, adamant on giving this demon a piece of his mind before a not-so-distant roar caught him by surprise.

Quickly, the angel turned his gaze around to find what the demon had been watching so adamantly. Adam - fighting a lion. Protecting his expecting partner. Immediately, the angel was transfixed. Worry lines sprouted across his face as he watched with the utmost intent, knowing he could do nothing but watch. Hopefully, the humans reigned victorious.

The angel's hands trembled slightly as he began fidgeting with his fingers in front of him. Gaze softening, no longer overly worried about the redhead at his side. The demon turned his sight to the angel and watched as he reacted to the scene.

"You're… worried. Is it about the fact that you gave away a holy weapon?" His tone seemed smug, but this time the smile on his face seemed of understanding more than making fun of him. He looked back at the battle waiting for an answer he very well knew wasn't sure to come. Of course, Aziraphale wasn't obligated to answer him and after a quick pause to see what the two out there would do, they would have probably gone back to fight each other.

A few spare moments passed by in silence as the two watched the battle unfold in front of them. The angel only seeming to snap from his thoughts once Adam made a devastating blow towards the lion, lashing forward with the flaming sword

They peeled their gaze away from the fight for only a moment, sparking a glance towards the demon in recognition before looking back over the wall.

"No... well, yes. I suppose." The angel started. Carefully picking at the skin around his nails.

"Of course I'm afraid I've done the wrong thing... but... what if it's not enough? For them I mean. It's an awfully dangerous world out there and who knows if they'll be able to defend themselves against everything this world has to offer? And for how long..?"

"Why do you care so much about them?" Crawly asked, turning his head again.

"Of course… task and all but… you know." He actually had no idea how to continue that sentence so he started another one. 

"Anyway I don't… think you can actually do the wrong thing." He gazed back at the humans, walking off in the distance with the holy flaming sword in the man's hands. Such a blasphemous scene, it looked hilarious to the demon.

"Oh... I... well, thank you." The angel hesitantly muttered, feeling the tips of their ears and their cheeks flush a deep red.

The last thing Aziraphale had expected from a demon, let alone one that had him pinned up against the wall just a few moments ago, was a compliment. Nonetheless, the angel somehow found solace in his words. Finding himself relaxing if only a bit.

Although, it wasn't long before the humans had disappeared over the horizon. Disappearing from view just as thunder crackled ominously overhead. Causing the angel to jump slightly at the suddenness of it all, especially with the way the earth seemed to tremble beneath their feet.

"Admittedly, I suppose I care for all Her creations." He offered, shrugging at the enemy's question.

"But... even so. I've spent so long by their side. I... just can't stand the thought of them getting hurt. Let alone suffer from Her wrath. Though, I don't suppose you would understand, having tempted them in the first place... It's not quite something I feel I can explain."

Crawly stayed silent. That somehow made him feel bad, not a demon’s bad, just the emotion of feeling not right.

"They just told me to come up here and make some trouble." He said without looking at him and added in almost a whisper of tone.

"I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway." The demon scoffed.

"Why am I even justifying myself with you." He looked back at him.

"So, emotional angel, are we going to get back to our previous exchange?"

"Hm... I suppose we should now, shouldn't we?" The angel muttered, shuffling uncomfortably above the wall.

Truthfully, they weren't altogether particularly fond of the idea of battling with the demon at the moment. Considerably more interested in where the humans were going and what would become of them.

"And true. You no need to justify yourself to me. Nor I to you. We're hereditary enemies. Just... following orders is all."

Before the Principality could move an inch, however, they suddenly felt something cold and wet sprinkle onto their face. They winced slightly before glancing up at the darkened clouds, watching as more of the fragile raindrops began falling from the heavens. Growing in number and speed.

While water wasn't exactly a new invention - Aziraphale had gone to the presentation - they couldn't help but shoot a worried glance towards the serpent of Eden. It was, after all, the first-ever rainfall. Droplets of water just suddenly falling from the sky without much prompt. To an angel, after such an event they could only rightfully assume it to be holy water. That God Herself was crying with anger and sadness at what had befallen her creation.

And certainly, this wouldn't do. There was hardly enough to kill a demon as it were, but it would certainly be enough to hurt the redhead - especially on his place upon the wall alongside him. So instead, the angel did what he thought best.

The Guardian of the Eastern Gate carefully unfurled their wings and draped one over top of the demon. Sheltering them from what they assumed to be holy water falling from above.

"Perhaps... once the storm has passed. If it ever does. Not quite a battle to share amongst our peers if we're both sopping wet. It would be quite embarrassing I should say. We are not animals, after all. It just wouldn't be proper. For either of us." The angel protested, avoiding the demon's gaze as they peered back over the horizon.

Crawly had been hit by a few drops already, fortunately, it wasn't holy water, so it would be an understatement to say he was shocked to see the angel's wing shielding him from the rain. He took a moment to process the action as his cheeks warmed up a little bit. He listened to his words silently then, still without saying a word. He looked back at the horizon, moving closer to the angel to be fully shielded. The fact that it didn't hurt him didn't mean he wished to be soaking wet.

Similarly, Aziraphale couldn't help but feel his cheeks heat up once again as the demon shifted. Feeling their lingering presence inch closer and closer. Their arms brushing against each other every once in a while.

What an odd set of circumstances the pair had found themselves in... Watching the first rainfall on this brand new world. An angel and demon taking place on the wall of Eden, with the angel shielding the demon from the rain. Even the fact that one had not killed the other at first sight was odd enough in their case.

This was the first demon the angel had ever encountered... and possibly he was the first angel the demon had encountered. While he wasn't too sure about how things worked down below, upstairs the angels were given a clear order as to how to proceed if they ever came into contact with them. Discorporate them. Use holy water. They were the enemy after all. Even now, Aziraphale knew it was best. For them both. Though with his flaming sword gone, it would be easier said than done.

"What do they call you..?" The angel found himself asking, his blonde curls now completely soaked through and sticking to his forehead.

"Down there I mean. You all must have names..." He added, spinning the golden ring on his pinky.

The demon noticed the rain had soaked the angel wet and felt kind of weird to be shielded by someone who was taking all the rain for himself.

"Weren't we supposed to both not look like a total mess because, and I'm quoting, ‘we are not animals’?" He shot a slightly amused grin at him then slowly moved his thin index finger to move one of the angel's curls away from his forehead, up in between the rest of it which was soaking, his grin now more obvious. 

"I'm Crawly." He said in a gentle and raspy tone.

With Crawly raising his hand towards Aziraphale, they couldn't help but flinch unexpectedly. Having expected to be hit or even flicked by the encroaching demon, quite taken aback to suddenly have a curl be tucked back and away from his vision.

Aziraphale glanced upwards as the demon retreated, as though he could see the now hidden curl. However, he simply turned back away, avoiding the demon’s serpentine gaze. Those yellow eyes seemingly looking into his very being, unable to help but feel exposed every time they made eye contact.

"Crawly..." The angel echoed, seemingly testing the name on his tongue.

Quite a tad on the nose, but no matter. A name was a name after all.

"Hmn. Yes, I suppose, but I can't very well shield myself from the rain. Not very flexible, I'm afraid." He finally answered, fluttering the still wing at his side to emphasize the inability to outstretch it over his own head.

"Besides, I merely meant it would be improper for us to be quarrelling in the mess and mud during such a storm. I'm quite sure I'll dry off soon enough. If this storm is to ever let up, that is. Would you have preferred I take my wing back?" He asked, folding his hands over his stomach as he only partially retracted his wing, almost like a tease or a threat to allow the demon to get as soaked as he. Crawly smiled a little at that. So there was a tiny bastard inside the guy.

"Well… it would be more in character." He agreed and let the angel move his wing away if he wished to.

"You know… I keep wondering if I did the right thing as well, by giving them knowledge of the two sides of things, you know. I could get in a lot of trouble for doing the right thing." He chuckled slightly looking down a bit 

"It would be funny… if I did the right thing and you did the bad one."

Despite the ever pouring rain, the angel merely returned his wing to its regular position. Opting to keep the demon shielded as the thunder began to slowly fade over the horizon, inching further and further away.

However, as Crawly began to speak, the angel couldn't help but glance over towards him. Only now noticing that when he looked too far to the left or right that a bit of white would appear in his sclera. Looking him over once more, more so with interest this time around considering his comments.

The angel couldn't help but chuckle a little at that, finding some solace in the fact that the demon was terrified of doing the RIGHT thing. It seemed silly at first glance, thinking that both the Guardian of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden had messed up their respective duties. However, it wasn't long before realization set in. Very quickly remembering what exactly happens to angels who disobey. Who end up doing the wrong thing.

"Oh - no." He quickly corrected himself, smile and laughter quickly fading as the angel seemed to grow anxious yet again.

"No, no, no it wouldn't be funny at all!" Aziraphale contradicted, pressing his lips together and looking away. Now a tad bit more on edge regarding his actions.

"I suppose not." Crawly sighed deeply then looked back at the angel.

"You should probably go and keep an eye on them. I would hate to see the product of my work go wasted." He slowly stretched his wing out, over the other's head, and moved his head closer to the angel's, blowing lightly at him, his breath hot but not as much as to burn, more cozy than anything. In an instant, Aziraphale was dry again.

"Oh-" The angel blurted out, quite a bit taken aback from the warmth. Instinctively shying away at first.

Truthfully, he at first expected hellfire to come from their maw. Engulfing him entirely and consuming him evermore, but instead, he merely found himself dry. The angel's cheeks heated, dusted over in a light pink once more although at this point in time he was fairly certain it was now due to the heat.

Aziraphale turned to look at Crawly, placing a gentle hand onto his cheek from the sudden warmth. Their curls more prominent now that the rain had been swept off of them. They took a moment to glance upwards, only now noticing that they had been shielded from the rain.

"Oh. Thank you... I suppose." Aziraphale muttered once more, still very much taken aback by the demon’s sudden kindness. Although, he felt as though he could more so equate it to watching an ocelot playing with their food before devouring them whole.

"Well. Um. Yes. Yes. That I should." They stuttered, stumbling over his words.

Another glance towards the skies showed that the sun was just beginning to peek its way through. The rain steadily became nothing but a light mist that blew among the wind.

Carefully, the angel took his wing back from up and over Crawly's head. Tenderly shaking off the water that had collected on it before tucking it back to his side, prompting Crawly to do the same.

"Well then... I... suppose I should be off." Excused the angel awkwardly, glancing off towards the sun that was beginning to set on the horizon.

"Don't want the happy couple to wander too far off to where I can't follow after all." He explained, hesitantly walking away from the demon and over to the edge of the wall.

For but a moment the angel turned back towards the redhead, lifting his chin slightly.

"I can't imagine the two shall travel far, and I’ll need to return to repair the damage done to the wall at some point or another. So Crawly, please... Try to stay out of trouble. Until I return at least." He teased, smiling faintly at the demon.

"My name is Aziraphale, by the way." He finally introduced, giving the demon one last glance over before allowing himself to slip off of the wall, opening his wings near the last moment to catch an upwards draft and head over the horizon to where the humans were last seen. The demon chuckled a little as he watched the angel go.

"Bastard." He declared softly and with a pairing soft grin.

He reached down from the wall, reentering the garden. If his suspicions turned out to be right, the garden had its days drawn. Of course, demons couldn't love, but whatever it was that Crawly felt for Eden, it sure seemed like it. Seeing it go forever would have been hard for him to swallow but it was not like he could tell anyone about his doubts, so he just took it as a chance to spend as much time in the garden as he could before the end of it.

There are few things certain in this world, but one of them had to be the way Crawly just knew they would meet again. As time went on and he, of course, had to leave the Garden as well to follow humanity rising, he couldn't help but to think that maybe they were linked somehow, maybe it was the fact that in most certainty, no angel had conversed with a demon-like they did, even after almost killing each other a few seconds prior. He couldn't explain to himself why he let the angel go, and he thought neither Aziraphale knew.

[notleriff]

Phoenix

I wish you the best of luck, Takeda. And I hope one day you will join us and return home. Just remember, our people rose from the ashes--you’re allowed to do the same.

“Fight me!”

“Perhaps another time, Dotharl.” Leriff chuckled softly as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He attempted to climb up the rubble in front of him, but could not find a good handhold to start his ascent. “Ahh--up, please.”

With large, looming steps, Ardki stepped forward. He locked his fingers together and held his hands out as a platform to give his fellow hunter a boost. “After! You can even have my pay if you win!” 

With only a smile and a shake of his head in response, Leriff placed his boot into Ardki’s outstretched hands and let the larger Au Ra lift him high enough to grab a crumbling beam. He climbed along it sideways until he found his way higher, finally making it over the rubble. “All clear, here.” The hunter leaned forward to look into the ruined room on the other side of the rubble, confirming that there were no beasts laying in wait within. 

The two had arrived at dawn with a team of relic seekers. Less than a moon past, the sands of the Sagolii had blown in the wind, shifting to reveal another of the tombs of some long forgotten people buried beneath. The group was excavating the ruins to find anything of historical note to bring back to the city to clean and catalogue. Ardki and Leriff had been hired to keep the archaeologists safe from any beasts that would have turned up at either the shifting of the sands or that lay buried within, as the first team dispatched had fled some manner of monsters a fortnight prior.

Leriff waved off Ardki’s assistance in his descent and dropped back to the floor with a thud. He dusted his tabard off before setting his hand on his hip with a huff. “It is safe enough for them to venture this way, but we should check the few passages around here before the sun sets. Which side do you want?” 

After a cursory inspection of the few paths from the courtyard, Ardki pointed down one to the west. The mostly intact terrain better suited his large, hulking figure, and it would require less acrobatics, something he was not very keen on. Leriff nodded in agreement and headed north, dropping to his stomach to crawl under a collapsed pillar before disappearing from sight.

What windows that existed in the passage were sparse, and it grew too dark with the setting sun for the man to see clearly. He frowned before digging into the bag on his belt. Producing a cloth, and searching the nearby area for something to tie it to, Leriff manufactured a torch. He held it out, nestled against the pit of his arm. He lifted his right hand and brought it down against the handle of the gunblade sheathed on his back. The ring around his finger was made of a fire crystal infused flint, and as it struck the steel of the weapon, it ignited, catching the cloth he had wrapped around his glove on fire. Using that flame, the man lit the torch before very quickly putting the fire on his hand out to avoid any burns. 

Leriff grumbled to himself as he wound his way around the maze-like passages. The patron of their operation was a lalafell of some wealth in the city, but seemed rather ill-informed of the operations this far into the desert. When the hunter had asked him what manner of creature the previous team had encountered, their patron had been flippant, if not outright dismissive, and had only given brief answers. It was not uncommon for those in power to not bother themselves with the details, but beyond the minor dune worms the two had cleared out, Leriff had found nothing to warrant calling off an entire digging operation.

Even if the windows in the ruin were sparse, and the few that existed covered by debris and sand, Leriff could still hear the warm blasts of wind outside. He hummed in thought to himself as he pressed deeper, using the whistle of air as a sort of tempo counter to his steps. Some few yalms away, however, he stopped, ceasing his humming as realization dawned upon him. 

Too steady. Too rhythmic. Too short. 

He began to creep forward, holding the torch low in case he needed to quickly smother it to avoid detection. Leriff had only the intent to confirm his suspicions. Dune worms did not breathe in such a manner, and whatever it was was large enough that the closer he drew to the source of the sound, the more the very rubble shook with each heavy breath. Without warning, the breathing stopped. In its place, a low rumble began. Just beyond the edge of the light his torch cast, a massive eye opened, sending a jolt of fear down Leriff’s spine. A gigantic muscular arm rose from the sand, and the creature began to pull itself free from its slumber. The rumbling grew into a growl as it crept closer to a roar. 

Panic set in as Leriff took a step back, but before he could flee in terror, he dropped the torch. He put himself in darkness in hopes the creature could not see through shadow, and had sense enough to dart down the closest narrow passage. It was not much help, as with two deadly horns and powerful grip, the creature ripped through whatever ruin lay in his way to crush the puny creature that would dare disturb his domain.

Leriff had no knowledge on how to fight this beast. Few, if any, did. His mind raced and he struggled to make sense of it. He could not think of how one ended so far away from the mountains, or how it survived buried beneath the sea of sand above; but, in all honesty, the how of it mattered little. 

“Leriff? Did the tunnel collapse? Are you okay?” Ardki called down the passages at the sound of the quaking earth. “Ahh, there you ar--” 

“Run!” Leriff was sprinting towards the large man, pillars collapsing behind him. At the look of confusion on Ardki’s face, and the lack of turning and fleeing, Leriff ran straight into him. He wrapped his hands around the Au Ra’s arm and yanked as hard as he could, nearly dislocating his shoulder, in order to get him to start moving. “RUN!” He screamed, dragging the large man behind him.

From the passage just behind where the hunter had fled from, large purple digits wrapped around the frame of the sandstone door and pulled it, crumbling the wall as a great behemoth followed close behind.

Ardki no longer needed the guidance of the Doman, having broken free of Leriff’s grasp to double time all on his own. The two tore past the encampment at the entrance of the ruins as the relic seekers were already frantically packing to escape whatever was creating such a racket just inside. When the head of the behemoth peeked out from behind the wall the two hunters had just fled from, those in the camp no longer cared about their personal effects, simply dropping everything to flee in a panic. 

The creature burst into the ampitheatre the crew had been using as a base of operations, its stark white eyes expressing its rage of the fleas that had infested its home long before the roar that split the sky did. Through a process of elimination, random chance or sheer bad luck, it settled its seething frustration onto the first target it saw and charged directly at the foreman of the group, who, at the sight of the barreling violet barrel of violence, froze in place and soiled himself. 

There was not time to think. To consider how terrible an idea it was, or of those left at home, or how pointless the endeavor would be. His body moved first, before his brain caught up with his hands. Leriff had skidded to a halt and turned on his heel, his hand reaching up to the handle of the weapon on his back. In the time it took for him to realize he had unhooked the gunblade from his back, he had already closed the gap between himself and the foreman. With no ability to back down any longer, he leapt into the air, twirled to gain momentum and slammed the gunblade directly into the behemoth’s eye.

Striking against the behemoth’s head was like jumping chest first into a stone brick wall. Leriff let out a horrible wheeze as all of the air in his lungs was scattered. He tumbled off the behemoth and landed on his back, trying desperately to gulp down greedy breaths to find the strength in order to push himself to his feet. He crawled a few ilms as the behemoth thrashed about in rage and agony behind him before making it to his hands and knees, and eventually his feet. The hunter staggered in a daze towards Ardki. 

The great Dotharl had managed his axe free on his way to his companion, holding the large weapon in one hand. As all in the room were, he too had not slowed from his full sprint. If he could reach Leriff in time, he could help him free, help them all escape. Ardki could not abandon Leriff, and show his cowardice, after the Doman had just risked himself for another. All he needed do was reach the man in time. Steps more. Yalms. Ilms.

Ardki threw himself into Leriff’s chest, pushing him back onto the ground. Leriff fell backwards, once more finding it difficult to breathe as he landed flat on his back. Above him, in one moment, Ardki looked down on the hunter and in the next, the Dotharl was gone. He had been moved, with rather vicious force, to the wall, gored on the end of one of the behemoth’s horns. The behemoth dragged the au ra across the wall, the horn leaving such a gaping wound that within seconds it had separated the man’s torso from his legs.

Leriff crawled, hand over hand, until he was back onto his feet. He collected Ardki’s axe, and though he struggled to wield it with such ferocity as the Dotharl surely would have, he focused all of his might into his arms. He shouted to draw the attention of the behemoth away from Ardki, and when the creature turned towards him, dropping Ardki from the wall, Leriff brought the axe across with all his might, cracking the shaft of it as he struck one of the beast’s arms, but managing to share that same damage to the behemoth itself. Taking no time to relish in his victory, and using the behemoth’s stumble and pain to his advantage, Leriff grabbed what was left of Ardki from the ground and ran with him out of sight.

He gently set the au ra against a pillar and stepped back with shaking hands, trying to rack his brain for anything he could do to help his co-hunter. At best, Leriff could patch cuts, bruises, maybe a broken limb or two. Ardki had been eviscerated, his lower half severed in the most unclean of ways. Blood spilled freely, soaking both hunters as Leriff tried fruitlessly to bind the man up. 

“I am Dotharl!” Ardki weakly lifted his arm, flailing it to try to find Leriff. Leriff took his hand and placed it on his own shoulder in an attempt to bring comfort. “I laugh at death!” The au ra blankly stared into the distance as color faded from his face. “But it hurts… And I’m afr--” Whatever final words Ardki had ended there, as he slumped to the side, drawing breath no more.

The screams from beyond the walls was all the indication Leriff needed to know the carnage had not stopped. Before he stood, he removed the bag slung over Ardki’s shoulder, the leather stuffed to the brim with a tool to help the large man get through the crumbled debris of the sandswept ruins. Leriff pulled the strap over his head and rose to his feet before hurrying back into the main amphitheatre. 

Blood soaked the floor, workers and mercenaries aliked cowered beneath and behind the crumbled walls and fallen pillars of the ruins as the half-blinded behemoth thrashed about in a wild fury to smash, impale and consume any living creature in the vicinity. Leriff took a single breath--a deep, cleansing one--to steady himself. For the first time since the sight of violence incarnate had filled his vision, he pushed the panic down. He held the air inside his lungs as his fear dissipated and then let it out slowly, in a single word. “Flow.”

Like a lightning strike, he was in motion. He did not give the behemoth time to turn and face him this time. Instead, he planted his foot on one of the fallen pillars left behind in the creature’s destructive wake and leapt from it. With no weapon, Leriff fell to the last one he had left, and perhaps the one he found the most familiarity with. He lifted his hand back and focused, relaxing his muscles--opening every little gate inside his body that would block the flow of power within. He clenched his fist and collided with the behemoth, smashing the creature square on the side of its head. The beast staggered backwards at the impact, and Leriff landed back onto the ground, rolling along the sand to find his way back to his feet. 

His left arm hung limp at his side. He had focused what strength he could muster into his arm, and brought all that strength to bear against the behemoth. When the blow had connected with the near steel-proof hide of the beast, the aether he had summoned needed go somewhere. And, since he could not pierce the behemoth’s hide with the power, somewhere it went. Out. In every direction it could. Muscles burst and bones broke as it vacated his arm, and now it hung useless. He choked the pain back. There would be time for pain later. Or there would not be, and he would be dead. Either way, now it could not be a distraction.

Man and beast stared at one another in a showdown, but it was Leriff who made the first move. There was no time for bravado. If he continued to break himself on the creature’s back, he would surely die. He had to kill the behemoth now. He moved like crashing water around the hulking arms, spinning, stopping and starting again to avoid being crushed beneath one of the behemoth’s fists. When he found his opening, he ran for it. 

He ran, until he stumbled. Skill played its part in keeping him safe, but it did not matter how fast or how skilled Leriff was. He was tired. And eventually, he would lose. In the split second it took for the man to put his plan into action, in the single mistake the lapse of attention brought, Leriff had moved in a direction he could not dodge away from. The fist came down, straight into the sand, and caught the entirety of the man’s right leg. It crumbled like paper. This was not pain he could push down, and the hunter screamed in agony, his body slinging back in response. 

The behemoth pushed its head down, and as easily as a bull charges a cape, it speared Leriff directly through the stomach on one of its massive horns, lifting the broken hunter off the ground. Finally, having brought the man to its level, it met the hunter eye to eye, unbridled fury seething out. 

Leriff choked on blood as he slumped onto the horn, using his one good arm to try in vain to push his body back off. When he could not muster the strength, he fell forward, trying to at least slow the pain until he died. His arms dangled off the sides and hung limply. Click. Leriff slowly lifted his palm and let it drop again. Click. His eyes shot open and as life drained from him through the hole in his stomach, he let his head fall to the side to look just below. His salvation lay still stuck in the behemoth’s eye. Click. Leriff weakly brought his hand up and down. Click. The ring struck the metal of the gunblade once more. “Do not fear it.” CRACK. 

A piece of the infused flint chipped off, and Leriff’s hand went up in flames. He stuck his burning hand into the bag that hung from his shoulder until he found it--the fuse. With the linen lit, and the urge to survive taking hold, Leriff pulled the bag from his shoulder and threw it into the behemoth’s face, sending some of the balls of packed explosive falling out as it flew through the air. He curled his burning fist up and screamed out every drop of air in his lungs as he brought it down onto the horn. He would either die now, or later when he could not muster the strength to take one more step. He chose later. With all of his might, and all the life left in his body, he brought his power down onto the protruding horn. It cracked, broke and dropped the hunter with half of it still stuck within him. The behemoth’s roar was cut short as the explosion ripped its head apart, the shockwave of it crumbling the ruins about on top of it. For his effort, the explosion threw Leriff like a sack, straight back into a pillar where he cracked the back of his head. He dropped to the ground without further fight, and the world went black.

***

It was two full moons before he could enter the office. The workers had dug the corpse out from beneath the ruins the moment the dust had settled, but when one heard the heartbeat, they had dropped everything to abandon the desert and bring him home. Constant care as the suns passed was all that kept him from death. Conjurers, companions, doctors, chirurgeons, and every single person the man had earned favors with in his work had come forth, and only through the constant vigil of those around him did he find himself in the office today.

Jajarilu sat on his stool behind his desk, watching in contempt as his employees helped the monster hunter into the room. Leriff looked like a holiday decoration, so wrapped in bandages. He struggled to stand, and only managed to move thanks to the wooden crutch he had propped into the pit of his arm. The lalafell only spoke once Leriff had situated himself, standing at the other end of his massive desk. “I am glad to see you well! You have come for payme--”

“You knew.” The look Leriff gave the patron of the excavation work was not all too different from that which he gave the behemoth that nearly took his life. “Your foreman told me, already. You knew it was there.”

Jajarilu’s hesitation lasted for but a moment. One did not reach such a level of wealth if they found themselves thrown off by every interruption. He coughed once to command the attention once more before jumping to his feet. “I did. It was a risk, but the work we have done now that--” He stopped as he saw the hunter’s expression. “It doesn’t matter.” He walked briefly around the desk until he reached a set of stairs, the small ladder bringing him to stand atop his workspace. He walked over the desk, arms swinging at his sides, until he could place himself in front of his hunter, and with a big smile, produced a bulging pouch of coins. “Here. A bonus! To our continued success together!” He dropped the pouch into Leriff’s hand as the Doman looked at it with a dumbfounded expression. “Now, if you don’t--”

Leriff smashed his head into Jajarilu’s, sending the lalafell tumbling down off his desk and onto the floor. The hunter then lifted his crutch and pinned the businessman to the floor by the throat, placing a dangerous amount of weight onto the wooden support. It would not be difficult, even weakened, to end the man’s life. All he needed do was push down a touch harder. His eyes shifted to offer his attention to those around the room, some pensively ready to heed the need for aid of their employer. He would not be able to get away, afterwards. He was too weak. Leriff glared down at the small man as Jajarilu pathetically flailed in an attempt to push the crutch off his neck. “Do not contact me again.” 

None of the workers attempted to stop Leriff. They felt he had earned at least that much. He released Jajarilu and stumbled to the door, fumbling it open with one hand before leaving the office for good. After making it to the street, and out the gate beyond, Leriff made his way to one of the myriad of refugees still located in Stonesthrow. He dropped the pouch of coin at the man’s foot to a look of confusion.

“Sir..?”

“I do not want it.” Leriff gripped his crutch tightly and slowly made his way back home.

[ice-the-creator-destroyer]

Minecraft story: Days 4-7

Days 1-3

Day 4:

At the suggestion of a friend, I turned off the auto-save feature and moved Chocolate Milk and Tess back into my house and closed off their access to the porch and Arnold’s Enclosure; this will restrict their movement to under 20 blocks in any direction so that they will not despawn. It has worked perfectly, but I still will not save my game when they are not both in my direct line of sight.

While I held what I think was a stack of two eggs, one from Tess and one from a chicken I had in my ranch outside, I tried and failed to eat a slice of cake, throwing the egg into the wall, hatching a small baby chicken. I had not intended on hatching these eggs; I had not really set in stone any plans for them, but they probably would have been made into a cake. I had full intentions of hatching Tess’s eggs, but only once I could assure they were all her eggs. I immediately fell in love with this baby chicken, and named him Lelo (it’s pronounced exactly like Lilo from Lilo and Stitch, but when I thought of the name, I visualized it with an e, so- yeah. It’s not like some thing to make him unique, it’s just how I visualized it.). I do not know whether or not Lelo is Tess’s biological child or if they were another chicken’s egg, but it does not matter now, because Tess has adopted him as her own, Lelo is Tess’s child and nobody can say otherwise. Of course, there was a bit of panic, as once Lelo grew up I would not be able to differentiate between him and Tess. I built a boat and placed Tess inside, and Chocolate Milk placed herself in the boat because that’s what Chocolate Milk does. Of course because my house was so small that the boat ended up blocking the front door, so now I have to leave my house through the back.

I added a storage room to my house after much frustration on what to keep and throw out due to inventory space.

I found an underwater ravine in the ocean beside the desert out behind my home. I have mined a lot here and it wielded lots of materials.

I HAVE ACQUIRED DIAMONDS! After literal hours of mining and searching, I finally found a pocket of 5 diamonds. I mined all around each diamond to ensure there was no lava around it that would burn it. I used three of the diamonds to make a diamond pickaxe, and then mined a sufficient amount of obsidian to assemble a Nether portal. I hope to go to the Nether and find a Nether fortress to find name tags inside the fortress. I have exited the game for the night, and will venture into the Nether tomorrow.

Day 5:

As YOGSCAST Lewis & Simon once said, Screw the Nether.

After a few minutes of prep, I began my journey into the Nether and was immediately attacked by a Ghast, who damaged me and put out my nether portal. I was able to re-light the portal and flee through it as I saw another shot coming towards me. Something interesting to note was that when I went back into the Nether, it was as if no time had passed, and the charge was still coming towards me.

Ghasts have been the bane of my existence. From the moment I stepped into the Nether they have harassed me at every turn. I tracked my progress and marked my way by the stone walls and hides I had scrambled together across the hellscape. I actually grew quite talented in fighting them, having stacks of cobblestone, able to craft a protective wall out of them in seconds, darting out from behind the wall and firing arrows, and surveying the area before dashing to the next protective wall of cobblestone I had built.

Fighting Ghasts requires a significant amount of arrows however, and there is only one way I know of acquiring feathers...

The chickens in the ranch outside my home are brought into the world and are often showered with seeds to help them grow big and strong quickly and then are paired off with a loving companion with whom they have lovely little children. What happens after that I try not to think about too much...

In order to feed the chickens and grow enough wheat to sustain the rapid consumption of bread in the Nether, I expanded my farm. It is not as neat and orderly as it was before, but it is more efficient.

I discovered that in the Nether, a short distance from the portal, was the end of the Nether, a large bedrock wall as rough and uneven as the bedrock at the bottom of the world. It is truly a sight to behold.

It is a well-known rule in Minecraft that a person should never dig straight down, but today, digging straight down saved my life. As I was fighting two ghasts behind a cobblestone wall, a third appeared behind me where I had no wall to protect myself, and fired at me. As someone who had been hiding behind stone walls for the past few hours, I guess I was in no position to judge the third Ghast’s tactics, like my own, it’s tactics sure as Nether were a lethal pain in the ass. I ran out into the open in my panic, and was now being fired upon by three Ghasts. Low on health, my body set ablaze and charing by the second, with terrifying beasts attacking me from both sides, I had no time to build an efficient cobblestone shelter, so in an attempt to save myself, I pulled one last desperate move: I dug a hole. Switching to my Iron Pickaxe, I looked straight below myself and dug. My body falling each block I removed, I quickly was out of the line of sight of the Ghasts. When I dug into a pocket of magma blocks and was damaged, I kept digging, knowing I would break through the pocket soon enough, and I did, emerging safely onto netherrack flooring. Safe away from the Ghasts, the fire charing my body fizzled out while I was at half a heart, leaving me severely injured, but alive. I placed a block of cobblestone above my head, and laughed at the absurdity of the situation and my luck.

When I returned home low on cobblestone, I built a cobblestone generator, with both water and lava flowing to meet and make cobblestone. I am ashamed to admit that I died to this contraption. Placing myself at the edge of the waterflow to more efficiently get the cobblestone before it was swallowed up by the lava, the water pushed me into the molten rock, setting my body ablaze. In a moment of sheer stupidity, I forgot that there was water right behind me as part of the contraption, and dashed to the ocean not far from the generator. Unfortunately, I had taken too much damage already, and the fire killed me while I was one block away from the water, scattering my inventory into the water, which I had to swim out for. I regained 7 of the 23-25 levels I had, a significant drop. After this I gave up on the cobblestone generator, and went out to the pathetic excuse for a cave not far from my home to mine cobblestone. During my mining, I found a large cave very similar to a small ravine. The only thing that differentiated it from a ravine was that the high ceiling did not open up to the sky. The single waterfall that led down all the way from the ceiling might have led to an ocean, making it an underwater ravine, but I did not check. I found 19 pieces of iron ore in this pseudo-ravine, and sufficient cobblestone from it and the cave I had come in from.

After many trips back and forth from the Overworld and the Nether for arrows, bread, and once cobblestone, I finally found a Nether Fortress. After one more trip back to the Overworld for sufficient preparations, I entered the fortress. I got all the way to the blaze spawners, but as I tried to destroy one of the spawners, I was killed by a blaze. After staring at the death screen for a moment, I turned off the PS3 and promptly gave up. The most valuable item I found in the chests leading up to that point was iron horse armor, and I don’t even have a horse.

I chose to raid the Nether Fortress for Name Tags instead of choosing the much easier fishing method is to reduce the kill count; I didn’t want to end so many fish’s lives just for Name Tags when I could go and get them in some chests in a fortress, but look at what has happened: I’ve had to kill so many chickens for feathers to make weapons used to kill other creatures. I cannot bring back the creatures I have killed, but I can choose to stop killing them. Screw the Nether, I’m goin’ fishin’.

Day 6:

At the suggestion of a friend I have rethought my decision to ditch the Nether. They reminded me that placing torches around a spawner will deactivate them, and suggested a more humane way of getting arrows: skeletons. Thank you friend, this world would be much bleaker without your advice.

I still took up fishing, knowing I could get name tags from there. I took nine fish, and after that, threw the rest back. I’ve gone fishing in real life before, there was no way that the fish could have died that soon after being caught. They’re not dead; shush.

I fished by day and hunted monsters by night. While fighting monsters at night, I encountered a Husk giving a Baby Zombie a piggy-back ride on it’s shoulders, though there is significant evidence to suggest that the Baby Zombie was controlling the Husk. I acquired sufficient arrows from the skeletons to venture into the Nether again, and acquired a saddle from fishing, but no Name Tags. Seeking to enchant my fishing rod with the Luck of the Sea enchantment to increase my chances of getting Name Tags, I went out to mine and found diamonds rather quickly, enough to craft an enchanting table, as I had used the previous 2 diamonds to craft a diamond sword in a moment of forgetfulness. I added another room to my house: a crafting room. Inside the room I placed a crafting table, an anvil, and an enchanting table. I remembered that I needed Bookshelves to increase the power of the enchanting table, but I was hesitant to acquire the leather required to craft books by killing cows. A quick internet search left me with another option: Fishing. Of course. I continued doing what I was doing: fishing by day and hunting Skeletons by night. As tools and armor naturally broke, I realized I was running low on iron, and that it would be smart to mine more iron now before my iron tools ran out rather than screwing myself over by not having any backups when they eventually broke. I went to a cave and began to mine, and found more caves and lots of iron.

One of the Zombie’s I was forced to kill in the cave dropped a potato?? I thought I would have to find a village to acquire potatoes but I guess not. I am growing potatoes now in my farm.

After being satisfied by the amount of iron I acquired, I tried to exit the cave, but discovered that I couldn’t find the way I had come in, running around in circles. I dug through the wall and my own exit, and emerged in a swamp. I spent the next chunk of my time lost in those swamps. I’m glad I got lost there of all places though, as I ended up finding slimes that I killed in self defense and got slimeballs that I later made leads out of. I made a 64 block tower of dirt with a torch atop it when I first got out of the cave to mark such a good mine; I used that tower to help find my way. I found a witch’s hut, but did not enter, knowing it was very dangerous. Night approached as I first saw the house, and I had my first encounter with Phantoms, as I had not slept in several days.

I eventually found my way back home, and might have kissed the ground if I had a button to do so. I am so happy to finally be home.

Day 7:

I returned to the Nether and entered the Fortress. I ran up the blaze spawners and blocked them all off with a wall of cobble, and placed torches around one which didn’t work. I soon realized that the spawners had no chests around them. I looked through what as far as I could tell was the rest of the Fortress, and none of the chests had Name Tags in them. I promptly left the Nether. Until I choose to go to the End, I will not be returning. Screw the Nether, everything I’ve done in the Nether has been an egregious waste of time, resources, effort, and life.

I went back to fishing. I crafted a boat and swam out a bit so no monsters could get me and set up shop. While fishing I caught a rod with Luck of the Sea II, Lure II, and Unbreaking III. No, I’m not kidding. It was on low durability so I went home, and merged it with my current fishing rod using my anvil.

I HAVE ACQUIRED NAME TAGS!!! I acquired them all through fishing. The first one I got I saw it as I reeled it in, and then it flew over my head. I scrambled around and out of the boat, swimming around until I found it. I named Tess first, as I needed to differentiate her from Lelo first and I wanted to let her out of the boat. She had been flapping her wings ever since she was put in the boat, and I know she was happy to finally be out. I accidentally hit Chocolate Milk while trying to break the boat; I’m sorry Chocolate Milk. They have now all been named, minus the dogs as they don’t despawn, and I opened up the way to Arnold’s Enclosure, before I remembered that wolves had spawned in there. I quickly blocked the enclosure back up. There was only one wolf in the enclosure, though before there had been four in there; I didn’t think wolves could despawn but apparently they can (Or they were killed by monsters.) I went to get bones, and then back into the enclosure and tamed the wolf inside. Welcome to the family Bernard.

I kinda don’t know what to do now. For the past few days the entirety of my time was dedicated to getting Name Tags for my companions. Almost everything I’ve done has been for them. I think I will just enjoy them for a while. I wasn’t there much while Lelo was growing up, and I’ve been on a mission since day 3; it’s day 7 now; I’ve been going in and out of the house without paying them as much attention as they deserve for longer than I have been paying them the attention they deserve. I gave them treats when I happened to have wheat or seeds in my inventory, but other than that they have sadly been neglected. I was so focused on keeping them safe and from despawning, I neglected their happiness. Well no more. From now on I’ll be showering them with the attention they deserve. Everything I’ve done so far has been for them, and it will continue to be. Chocolate Milk, Tess, Lelo, Norman, Betwood, Bernard, I love you all. Happy New Year.

[lemonjoonah]

Locks and Barriers

Title: Locks and Barriers Word Count: 7K Rating: M Genre: One-shot, Post Apocalypse AU, Romance (smut), Drama Warnings: Apocalypse (Plague...so lots of death), Implied Violence, Smut Scene (Unprotected Sex, Thigh Riding) Pairings: Hoseok x Reader

Summary: One of the most amazing experiences in your life soon descends into chaos. Your trip to Seoul becoming overshadowed by a cataclysmic event leaving you alone in a city that is not your own. Your only hope? To find the man who has sent out one last broadcast to the city in search of any survivors, but you’ll have to overcome more than distance if you wish to become closer to him.

A/N: So much research went into this story. I tried to make it as real as possible looking into, locations (every spot mentioned does exist), wildlife, language (sorry if there are any mistranslations, my Korean is so poor) and aspects of life after an event such as the one you’re about to read below. I’ve never been to Seoul so I had to do a lot of searching through google maps, if you want any links to site pictures I can make a post later on although some of them have gone into the mood board.   

...

He should be here... out of all the places in the city this spot made the most logical sense. N Seoul Tower is at the very center of the city on the top of a mountain, giving you not only a useful view, but also access the necessary equipment for broadcasting. You check each floor, your newly injured leg slowly failing as you climb the steps to the top. The feeling of impending loneliness returns to haunt you. He is your last hope, where else could he be? Did he move on? Did he succumb just as the others had?

Finding every level deserted you retreat back down to the outdoor platform, dragging out cushions and chairs to set up a camp outside. Watching the streets and skies for any sign of life. Unable to use the transmission system yourself, you wait until nightfall to send out your only option for communication, an emergency flare. The shot lights up the sky before descending on the now darkened city. You turn on your small radio as you break down the wooden chairs to build a fire. The message that drew you here never changes, simply playing over and over on repeat, but you still take enjoyment from the sound of his voice. Especially since it allows you to pretend that you aren’t sitting alone.

This was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime. When your friend asked you to tag along on her business trip to South Korea you didn’t even hesitate. You had always wanted to go but the thought of travelling to another country where you hardly spoke the language was terrifying. Lucky for you, your friend was fluent.

Was... you reflect to yourself watching the fire grow in front of you. She said she would come back, she said she was just going out to search for food. Despite the warnings to stay inside, to stay away from others, she had ventured out from your hotel. You remember the sad smile she gave as she left, telling you that she should wouldn’t be more than an hour as she concealed a cough. That was two weeks ago...

When the first few patients of the illness passed away it was all over the news. You couldn’t understand the reports but your companion had still been there to translate. Anyone who had presented the set of symptoms associated with the virus had not survived more than 24 hours. It wasn’t long before it began to spread. Hospitals began to overflow and one by one they shut down entirely. You tried to arrange a flight home, but all travel was suspended to prevent the spread. It did nothing to quell the transmission, every country had already been exposed to the infected population.

You had gone out to search for her only to find the roads empty and the city encased in a putrid smell. You had shouted over and over calling out down every street you could before your voice had grown hoarse. There was no one left to answer.

Days turned into weeks as you waited for her, taking up residence on the roof of your hotel as the smell inside had turned unbearable. When you were scrounging for food a few days later you had come across a battery operated radio in one of the stores. With the power gone you had given up on all forms of communication, completely forgetting about radio transmission. With sufficient battery power someone could easily broadcast and keep the stations running. You brought it back to your camp, and scanned through the channels listening for anything other than the repeated public service announcements. The radio paused again on another male voice, the usual reports were so even in tone, this voice sounded desperate.

You remember how your heart leapt at the sound, you had given your full undivided attention to the radio laying down in front of it to peer at it as if possessed a soul. The wavering voice cracked several times but it was not the fault of the radio. It was by no means an official broadcast, the message might have been in Korean but lacked the formality and flow of the other broadcast. This was something real, someone who wasn’t hiding their state of distress. You cried both tears of sympathy and happiness upon learning that there was a possibility that you were no longer alone in this city. If only you could have understood what he was saying.

You had tried to transcribing the message into Hangul, having learned the writing system, but breaking down the message was easier said than done. None of the words you had written out could be found in the dictionary due to your poor spelling. After several unsuccessful attempts you had given up.

You may not have grasped what was on the message but featured prominently in your travel book was the biggest radio transmitter in the city, the N Seoul Tower. You assumed that would be an ideal location to relay from, so what was the harm in looking for him there?

Or at least that had been your rationale.  Unfortunately you had risked a lot to come here. You look down to the bite on your calf.

It hadn’t taken long for the wildlife to encroach on the vacant city. The scavengers came first feasting on what was left, gorging themselves until their supply began to rot. Shortly after the bigger predators followed. The wolves that had once stuck to the forests, that had been such rare sight to see in Korea, now encroached upon the city. Their fear of humans no longer holding them back from hunting you.

Along with the chairs and cushions you had taken a first aid kit from the front desk to help you disinfect and dress your wound. But now as you look at the tubes of cream you are at a loss once again, the packaging bearing no english words. You settle for what you assume to be alcohol wipes and a bandage, hesitant to put anything else on the broken skin.

You lay down on a bench next to the fire in a large sleeping bag you had found in outdoors store before starting your ascent of the mountain. Also stocking up on items such as a propane stove and the flare gun that you had just shot earlier. You rummage through the bag for food that you brought not wanting to move from your now warm spot. Your fingers find the holes left by the teeth of one of the wolves you ran afoul, you shake your head thankful that the beast took the bait with the can of meat that you had thrown, rather than the rest of your leg.

As you dig into your canned dinner your attention turns to your surroundings. You had set up camp on a platform surrounded by walls of padlocks, thousands of them had simply been latched onto the metal serving no specific purpose. You’ve seen displays like this before in other countries. Couples would write their names onto the locks and leave them at symbolic spots like this. You thought it was cute the first time you saw one of these setups, but looking upon it now you are overwhelmed with sadness. You confirm the sight with your guide book learning that this place was a popular spot for couples to visit. Not only because of the locks but even the bench you sat on was designed to draw people closer together, with a slight slope down in the middle making those who sat down slide into each other. You curse yourself for coming here feeling more alone than ever before.  Knowing that you would never get the chance to have that type of relationship, one where you would visit a place like this. How can you when the world was at its end and there appears to be no one left but you?

The radio suddenly cuts out, resuming a second later but presenting a different tone. You almost drop your food in surprise. The message changed, he’s out there somewhere making another attempt to communicate. You still don’t know what it’s saying but it had been only half an hour since you set off the flare. It’s too short of a time frame from your signal to be a coincidence right?

With fresh determination you set down your guide book pulling your travel dictionary and journal out to make another attempt at translation. After a few minutes you manage to pull one word of importance from the dialogue, signal. He must be talking about the shot you sent up. You fall back on the bench in happiness. It’s been a fortnight since you’ve seen anyone, you weren’t even sure that the owner of the voice was still alive, but you had hoped. This simple form of communication is so overwhelming you can’t contain your happiness.

But now you’re unsure of the best course of action. Should you stay where you are? Is this person able to make his way to you? Without being able to translate the rest of the message you find it difficult to come up with a plan. You continue listening and writing out the sounds you hear but the voice creates such a friendly and comforting presence, lulling you into a sleepy state.  Exhausted by your journey you soon give into it, you curl up on the bench knowing that it won’t be safe to venture out until the morning anyway.

...

A few hours later in a haze you hear the distinct click of the radio shutting off. Thinking the batteries dead, you groan reaching to your bag to find the replacements you had packed, wanting to return power to the device so you could still listen to the voice. As you sit up you come face to face with a dark clad man bent over you, reaching down to the receiver beside you. You flinch back in fear, your eyes darting between the black mask covering his mouth and nose, the metal bat in his hand and the blood spattered all over him.  

He locks eyes with you, and his own seem just as shocked. He looks down at his own appearance and he takes a step back shaking his hand. He mutters something softly as if trying to explain himself. You try to edge back from him finding it difficult on the bench’s incline while wrapped in your sleeping bag. This has to be him, the one you had heard on the radio. His voice sounded so friendly in the message, but now he looks as if he might finish you off.

Watching your response he removes his mask allowing you to see the rest of his face speaking his next words very clearly. “Hangugmal hal julaseyo?” You had been asked this phrase so many times during your visit, you can easily determine what he’s asking. Can you speak Korean?

You shake your head back at him. His face falls, his eyes lowering in disappointment.  “English?” He asks with hesitation. You nod this time still focusing on his appearance. He gives you a half smile pointing to the bat, searching for his words carefully. “Sorry, neugdae... big...dog...”

The wolves... He had come to find you in the night despite their presence. Giving you a reasonable explanation for the blood. You pull up the dictionary next to you finding the word and hand it over to him. “Neugdae is Wolf?”

“Neugdae, yes wolf.”  His smile is wide now as he looks down at you now, seeing that you’ve relaxed. You can’t help but give him one back. He moves closer crouching down and offering his hand that he wiped off on his pants, he chuckles shyly at his state. “Hoseok.”

With the mask removed and a smile on his face his harsh appearance is completely gone his softness now matching the voice from the radio. You give him your name which he tests on his tongue, repeating it slowly to confirm that he is saying it right.  

After lowering your legs to the ground and moving your scribbled notes out of his way you offering him the seat next to you. He glances at the pages in your hands with a grin. Taking the notebook from you he finishes your work crossing out a most of the words rewriting them with the correct spelling. Using the dictionary to assist he translates it for you. Hoseok nods pointing at the one part you had managed to decipher. “Signal,” He repeats before he begins to build the rest of the message around the single word.

... I saw your signal. Stay there. I’ll come to you...

After a pause he inquires, “You are alone?”

“Yes, you?”

He nods looking into the fire that is slowly dying. You can tell he’s disappointed, he’s probably spent all of this time waiting. At the first sign of another living soul he came running and you can’t even speak the native tongue. You have nothing more to offer him than a spot by your fire and a language barrier.

He points to your travel book from the ground. “Vacation? Trip?” You nod sadly while he continues to ask questions, “Friends or family nearby?”

You shake your head, you eyes begin to brim with tears. He reaches out to you slowly, his fingers graze your forearm as you explain your situation, how you haven’t heard anything from your family back home. He smiles brightly when you mention your home country. “I’ve been there! ” He exclaims seeming so happy to have found something in common that you can’t help but feel guilty.

“I’m sorry.” You suddenly blurt out to him feeling like such an inconvenience. “I’m sorry I don’t speak Korean. I’m sorry you had to find me.”

“Aniyo, no.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Don’t be sorry. We will learn together, Okay?” His bright voice pauses, as if realizing he’s made an assumption his face drops again. “Can I stay here, right?” You immediately nod making him chuckle, “Good.”

...

You wake early the next morning only to find Hoseok snoring on the bench opposite yours. Not wanting to disturb him you limp off to the tower entrance. Clutching your sleeping bag like a cloak wanting to keep its warmth as you raid the empty tower, finding a gas stove that ran off propane tanks even larger than the one you had brought up with you. As the rice begins to steam you hear Hoseok calling your name. You peak your head out from the kitchen to find him with a distressed look on his face. Upon seeing you he hops over the bar counter advancing quickly to pull you into a hug. Confused by the sudden display, you’re left speechless in his arms as he holds you,.

He tugs you back lowering his eyes to yours. “You left...” he sighed.

He must have been worried when he woke up alone, you hadn’t realized how upset he would be. You thought you needed his company more than he needed yours, but clearly you were mistaken. “Sorry, you were asleep.” You apologize, he nods and blushes when he notices he’s still holding on to you.

But when he glances down to see the state of your leg he becomes distraught once again. “What is that?” He points to the bandage.

“Neugdae...” You offer with a slight smile. “I met one too.”

“Aissh, sit.”

“But I was cook...”

“Sit.” he repeats, his stern face appears so unyielding that you know you won’t win against him. He goes to the kitchen and finishes off the meal.

As you eat together you ponder on what comes next. You found each other, there’s enough food for as long as the expiration dates last, but what should you do from here? Should you leave the city? Are there other towns and cities that still live on despite the plague? With the loss of power and communication it’s impossible to know. Your family lives to far away for you to even consider going to them to be a possibility, but what about his?

“Are you from this city? Was your family here?”

“Not here.” He grabs one of the travel maps from a nearby desk. “ They’re here, in Gwangju.” He points to a southern province.

“Do you know if...” You can’t even bring yourself to finish the question.

He shakes his head. “We lost...phone...no,” He searches for the word. “Contact, we lost contact.” His expression is so grim. You take his hand in yours holding it hoping to give him some comfort. “Thank you,” He whispers back with a dim smile.

“When should we go?”

His eyes widen and his smile grows, becoming more natural. “Meet my family... beolsseo?” He laughs back to you, but you miss the joke without a translation.  He looks down to your leg, “We’ll go, when you heal.”

...

The next day though your leg becomes even more swollen. Hoseok had shown you the right ointment to use but the wound started to turn red around the edges. Unfortunately the infection spreads quickly as you progress to the stage of a fever hours later.

He flips through the pages of your dictionary. “You need stronger...” He points to the word antibiotic on the open page. “I can go find them.”

The thought of being left up here alone doesn’t sit well with you. What if something happened to him, what if he couldn't make it back, it’s not like he could call you. You had already lost one friend in a similar scenario you have no plans on losing him too.  You try to brush off the seriousness of your condition. “I’ll be okay, I don’t need anything else.”

“No. You are not okay.” He turns to take his pack and bat placing the mask back over his face.

In a panic you grab his wrist, trying to convey your fear to him. “Please, don’t leave me.”

He kneels down to you his eyes piercing yours as he brushes the hair from your face. Replying softly, “Aissh, you’re the one trying to leave first.” He scolds lightly with a smile trying to calm you.

You are anxious about being alone for a few hours, but he is clearly worrying about being alone for a lifetime. He sighs pulling another black mask out of his back and places it over your mouth and nose. Remaining crouched he presents his back to you. “Gaja. Let’s go.” After pulling your arms around his neck he supports your thighs on his hips and hands.

You lean your head against his shoulder giving in to the wave of exhaustion presented by the fever. He descends the mountain slowly with you on his back. A soft hum coming from his lips as he takes each step. He checks in with you when you begin to fall quiet.

“Still with me Kkochiya?” You nod, not recognizing the last word, he placed such an emphasis on it it sounded important. You try to keep it in your mind to look it up later but you to fall into another haze preventing you from keeping your focus.

There's a jingling sound of something that might be keys and the small beep of a car unlocking. You look up to see an expensive vehicle pulled right up to the secured gate. Public sites like this one were the first to be closed and locked up during the outbreak, but at least now they’re able to give you guaranteed reprieve from the death you had seen. Hoseok rests you into the passenger side buckling your belt for you. He mumbles a mixture of Korean and English, you can only pick out a couple words. “Not far... not far.”

He’s right, it’s only a few minutes before he cuts the engine. You wince as he opens the door. The smell that you had escaped up on the mountain returning to your senses. The mask provides you with a little relief but your eyes still water from the stench.

Hoseok breaks open the glass door of the pharmacy with his bat, and reaches in to undo the dead bolt. You wait in your seat chuckling lightly as he calls out “Sorry,” to no one in particular for breaking the door.  

He comes back to the car to carry you in with him. Setting you down on the counter he begins his search for something that might help you, locating what must be the pharmacist's reference book. As Hoseok flips through the pages his face scrunches up in concentration. He takes a massive bottle off the shelf and checks the reference text a few more times before opening the container and giving you a pill along with some water.

“Thank you,” You whisper.

Hoseok bows his head giving you weak smile. You shift yourself to side off the counter when he stops you. “Stay, we should stay here.” His nervousness showing through, he must want to stay close to the pharmacy so he can be sure he gave you the right medicine.

He takes the time to clean and bind your wound.  Every now and then he looks up to you to see if it’s too tight or if you are in pain as he wraps the bandage.

Hoseok drags in blankets that he stores in his car. You spend that night on the pharmacy floor. Sure there are plenty of homes around with unused beds but you both know if you step into one of those houses what you would find. You aren’t ready to force yourself to see those sights again, if you can avoid them you will.

You can tell that he is still concerned with your fever still present, giving you another dose of the antibiotic before falling asleep, He holds you close as you shiver in the dark, his presence soothing you into another sleep.

The next morning you feel his palm against your face.  

You open your eyes to see his bright smile. You blush as he kisses your forehead holding you to him with the biggest grin upon his face.   

“Dahaengida. You’re not hot.”

“Ouch,” you scoff, holding back a laugh, curious if he will catch on to his own words.

“Aniyo,” he whines pushing gently on your shoulder. He mutters something else but doesn’t bother to translate it for you, allowing you to laugh instead at his fumble.

...

You take things slowly over the next couple of weeks. You return to your camp in the tower, but before your ascent back up the mountain Hoseok grabs a few books from the library next to the car park. He pulls a variety of titles for those who wished to learn english. He smiles shyly as you looked over them, handing you a copy of korean for beginners that you had requested.

It’s an odd feeling really. After watching so many shows and movies you thought if something like this was to happen that every day would be a struggle to survive, but you’ve grown quite comfortable. Each day you both study and plan your trip south and at night you sit by the fire, setting off a flare as darkness claims the city, searching to see if anyone else needs to be found. Your feelings towards Hoseok grow stronger with but you can’t help but feel doubt lingering within you. He is the kind of person you could have only wished for before the events that took everyone else away. Your sentiments towards him would be the same no matter the setting, but are the same desires true for him? Every night since the pharmacy he holds you close while you sleep, as if he’s afraid he might lose you while he dreams. His glances and touches linger on you more as time passes. But this need for you... is it simply from the situation or does he hold the same feelings as you. It is not the kind of question one can convey easily even in your native language.

As you lay by the fire one night, you try to bear your concerns. “You wouldn’t let yourself settle for someone would you?”

He looks at you with confusion, “Yes... I’m settling with you, we are living here.”

“No settle for me, to settle for less... forget it...”

“No tell me.” He begins to unwrap a bar of chocolate you had taken from the gift shop and takes a bite looking at you.

Your dictionary is no help at all in this concept of feelings, you’re on your own for this one. “Do you prefer chocolate bars or cake?”

“Cake, you have cake?!” His eyes light up giving you his answer.

“No,” you chuckle at him. “But would you say they are similar?”

“Yes...”

“You prefer cake to chocolate but since there is no cake you settle for less, you settle for chocolate. Does that make sense?” You ask flustered.

“You’re saying there’s no cake?”

“I’m saying that I am the chocolate!” You burst out.

He looks at you with a surprised expression. You doubt you got through to him as his next word comes between laughter “Masiseo.”

...

With your leg fully healed it’s the last day before you leave the city. Limited by the lifespan of gasoline you will only have a year at most before it oxidizes beyond the point of use. The sooner you head out the more area you can cover and time you can devote to your search on the way down to Gwangju.

You both venture down the mountain to do a few tasks before you depart. The first stop is the little strip of land which juts out right into the Han River beside the Banpo Bridge. This spot has become an area you frequent regularly. The formation providing adequate shelter from the flow of the river makes it the perfect place for bathing and washing... with the exception of the frigid temperature.

The water as usual is absolutely freezing. You agree to bath on opposite sides of the narrow land bridge, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t hear his high pitched stream of curses as he steps into the water. You snicker but find yourself doing the same once the water reaches your waist.

After a few minutes you hear another loud swear followed by, “Kkochiya?” There he is using that word again. You tried to ask him about it but before but he would only grow embarrassed and steal the dictionary from you. Not giving it back until you promised you wouldn’t look it up.

“Mmm?”

“Can I join you on that side?”

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s a big fish.”

“Says the boy who fought off wolves.” You laugh despite also growing flustered with his request, “Okay just give me a minute.” You move into deeper water taking the soap with you, turning your back so he can get in with some privacy.

After a splash behind you he gives you the all clear. He is only submerged up to his waist giving you the full view of his upper torso.  You unconsciously bite lip your lip in response. Realizing he was watching your reaction you mumble a sorry while he lets out a light laugh.  Was this actually why he wanted to come over, to tempt you?

After a quick wash to your hair you wrap it in a knot at the back of your neck. You spot Hoseok with a washcloth reaching for his back. In an attempt to prove your self restraint to Hoseok after your lapse you approach him from behind.

“May I?” You ask reaching out for the cloth. He stutters as you take it from his hand, still facing away from you. You run it over the muscles in his back, fingers drawing lines in the defined flesh.

“Gongjunim...” He lets out a low groan as you continue focusing on the spot between his shoulder blades, then slowly moving lower. His head lulls back ever so slightly as you reach his lower back.

You stop yourself before proceeding any further passing the cloth back to him over his shoulder. “I’m getting out. You coming?”

He breathes deeply as he responds. “I’ll follow soon... I need a minute.”

...

You stop at a couple stores on your way back picking up more supplies for your trip. New sleeping bags, propane tanks, a fresh line to siphon gas, and a few other necessities that might be difficult to come by.

“One more stop.”

You yawn from the passenger seat. “We should head back soon we still have to climb up.”

“You will like this place,” He promises.

He stops the car in front of the Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art. You’re in a state of shock, this had been next on your list of tourist stops you had planned before all the public sites were shut down. “How...how did you...”

He pulls out your dogeared travel book from his back pocket and places it on your lap, with a grin from ear to ear.

As he exits the car he takes one of the camping lanterns you had found earlier that day. The museum was breathtaking, holding a mixture of historical and modern Korean art. The classical section had to be viewed mostly by lantern light. With Hoseok leading the way he holds your hand between each piece. The lantern and darkness added an unexpected viewing perk, allowing you to fully appreciate one display without being spoiled by a view of the next.   

The only other distraction is provided by Hoseok. He watches as you examine each piece. Smiling beside you when you become wide eyed or gasp at the beauty of the work. Standing there with him in the dark feels so intimate, at night you are together but you are also surrounded by the noise of the wind and wildlife. In here it’s just you and him, with the dark placing a dependence on your other senses. The sound of his breath echoing beside you. The warmth of his hand on yours.

As you look at the last work of art he drapes himself over you. His chin resting on your shoulder while his arms cross in front of you, the sweet smell of his hair wafting into your nose. “Aleumdabda...” He mutters beside your ear. After your studies you now know this world to mean beautiful. You nod in agreement still looking at the masterpiece. He lets out a brief sigh next to you. “Nae sarang...” He pauses as if racking his brain for the words to continue his thought or possibly a translation. Shaking his head he simply mutters, “Gaja,” and directs you out of the dark room.

...

That night you pack up everything that you need from the tower. With the supplies assembled you sit together in front of the fire on the outdoor platform one last time. Slowly drifting off as you watch the flames in front of you. Your head coming to rest on the side of Hoseok's leg. He rubs your hair gingerly with his fingers as you fall asleep.

It’s still dark the next time you open your eyes. Woken by the sound of scratching metal. You look over to Hoseok who is looking very intently at something in his hands.

“What’s that?”

“Oh sorry.” He blushes trying to hide the small object when he realizes you’re awake. You catch his finger quickly to find something cool and hard in his grip. It’s a lock, he was scratching your names into a lock. Your thumb rubs over both the English and Hangul spellings of your name and his. He must have found it while you grabbed your supplies that day.

You look over to the wall of padlocks a smile tugging at your lips while a blush rises on your skin to match his. First the museum and now this. You had suspected, you had hoped that the museum was his idea of a date. You can see now that he’s trying to make the relationship between you and him real not just in the present but as it would have been in the past. Who knew a lock could break a barrier you laugh to yourself.

You edge closer to him as he sits cross legged on the ground. Your hand cups his check. You watch as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath clearly enjoying your touch. He gently kisses the heel of your palm that rests against his lips before looking back to you. He suddenly pulls you into the spot between his legs now holding your face in his hands.

You make one last attempt to see if this what he truly wants. “Promise... promise that you are not settling for me.”

He sighs with a smile, reaching back to your earlier conversation, “You are not chocolate. You are not cake. Neon naekkeoya.” He kisses your forehead, as he pulls away he gives you the translation. “You are mine.”

“Neoneun naui Kkochiya.” He whispers as his lips move down to your lashes touching those next,  “You are my flower.”

“Nae Gongjunim,” Now grazing the curve of your cheek, “My Princess.”

“Nae sarang,” He finally encases your lips in his, but instead of pulling away fully he whispers the next words against your mouth. “My Love.”

He has said all these words before but he never explained their meaning. You try to think back to when he first started using them but you find the mouth trailing down your neck enjoyably distracting.

You tug at his jacket with the intention of taking it off, he groans as if the thought of removing himself even for a second is unfavourable. Once its pulled away from his arms he latches back on to you with fierce grip.

His mouth continues to descend to your collar coming to the very edge of your shirt. As his fingers rest on the top button he pulls away slightly and looks up to you his eyes begging for permission to continue. Your hand raises to his helping to undo that first fastening. You thought he would continue with the rest quickly. Instead he draws the shirt opening down your arms exposing your shoulders and skin level with the next button. He proceeded to kiss and nip at every part of you he had just freed, only moving on to the next button once he is sure that he has given the area enough attention. Continuing his progress as if he's slowly unwrapping a gift and savouring every part of it.

Hoseoks breath shudders as he reaches your bra. With one hand cupping the swell of chest firmly. His other arm wrapping around your lower back to hold you close. His lips trail along the edge of both cups. He pulls the straps of your bra down to join the shirt that he has been slowly tugging down your arms. To continue his progress he lowers you down onto the makeshift bed you were sleeping on just moments before.  

He pulls his shirt off as you rest between his legs. You reach out to place your hands on his neck and draw him in for another kiss. Hoping that he would press his skin against yours, but he kisses the inside of your wrist with a smirk and continues where he left off. As he releases the last of the buttons of your shirt he removes it entirely.

His hands trail lower to your thighs, his thumbs pressing down in the front with his fingers reaching around to the back making their home right at the start of the curve of your ass. He pulls up your hips ever so slightly, his mouth  leaving his mark on a spot just above the seam of your waistband.

Hoseok bites his lip as he looks down at your hips now squirming in his grasp. You undo your button and zipper prompting a wishful reaction from him.

“Kkochiya?” He asks with a deep exhale.

You rise back up to meet him giving him the answer with the simple touch of your lips to his. A lustful grin spreads across his face which he can’t seem to control. He helps up tug off your pants and his own. Leaving your underwear on as he moves back over you placing his knee carefully between your legs. He leans back kneeling his thigh creating an incline leading to him. Taking your hands in his he raises you up, guiding you to a kneel as well but still separated by his leg. Your crotch coming to rest on him. With the pressure of his loin pushing back your underwear proves to be an ineffective barrier for your damp arousal. Hoseok lets out a sound somewhere between a  hiss and a groan. “Aissh Gongjunim.”

He drags you further up his leg, a whimper leaving your lips as you grind against him. A hand traces your jaw lifting your chin for a kiss. His other arm wraps around your hips pushing them down as he rocks you back and forth. You breathing becomes ragged against his mouth, but he takes it all with a grin and his eyes closed.

Wanting to elicit the same response from him, you lower your hand to his boxers palming the erection that had pressed against your leg when he pulled you forward. Your fingers run up to the tip but his hand grabs your wrist to prevent you from doing it again. He mutters against you with a sigh his head lowering your shoulder his expression strained. Had you done something wrong? Does he not want to go any further?

“Too good...” He explains quelling your fear with a smirk.

His fingers leave your wrist and float to the band of your underwear conveying his desire to continue. He pushes your underwear to the side, licking his lips as he watches a string of your arousal cling between you and the cloth.

Pulling himself through the opening in his boxers, he takes your legs and wraps them around his torso, supporting your weight in his hands as he slowly lowers you onto his cock. He perches himself just at your entrance, you feel his tip brush against your damp folds. He reaches for you with his mouth, stealing the moan from your lips as he shifts you down to take him. He rests there for a moment sheathed inside of you.

“Ah gibun joha.”  He moans in your ear. You find yourself clenching around him desperate to hear more from him, craving the sound of his words, his praise. He shifts to move back on top of you his first thrusts coming slowly.  

His name falls from your mouth as a plea.

“Yes, nae sarang?” He whispers back. Your head arches back with a deep breath, you’re so close. He tilts your chin back forward to meet you eyes,“Show me. Show me how.” His request needs no explanation. You take his right hand slowly licking the pad of his thumb. He arches back a little as you lower his hand placing the now moist digit on your clit. He takes the lead again, pressing down forcing another gasp to escape you. Twitching with each pass of his thumb, while his thrusts become more impactful. Your breathing catches, forcing you to inhale until you finally let out a satisfied tremor. A rush of warmth floods through you, your climax coaxing his too to escape.

Even after the final thrust he remains inside. The heat coming from him so desirable in contrast to the night air, it’s as if the light of day had reemerged to bathe you in it’s glow. It seems so simple now, you might be his flower but he is your sun. Keeping you warm, keeping you happy despite the barrier between you and the darkness that surrounds you.

...

Hoped you enjoyed it!  I’ve included the all the terms I used below,  some of them were already translated in the story but others I left open so here’s your chance to look them up.

Dictionary of Korean terms (In order of use)

Hangugmal hal julaseyo? - 한국말 할 줄아세요? - Can you speak Korean? Neugdae - 늑대 - Wolf Aniyo - 아니요 - No Beolsseo - 벌써 - Already Gaja - 가자 - Let’s go Kkochiya - 꽃이야 - Flower (in the form of a nickname) Dahaengida - 다행이다 - Thank God Masiseo - 맛있어 - Delicious Gongjunim - 공주님 - Princess Aleumdabda - 아름답다 - Beautiful Nae sarang - 내 사랑 - My love Neon naekkeoya - 넌 내꺼야 - You’re mine Neoneun naui Kkochiya - 너는 나의 꽃이야 - You’re my flower Ah gibun joha - 아 기분 좋아 - It feels so good

[onwesterlywinds]

It's late evening when an unusual face shows up to the Saltery - an older white Hrothgar, with a giant bow on his back. Dressed in various furs, and guiding a chocobo that holds several carcasses on its back. There's quite an assortment as well - a yabby, a gagana, and an aldgoat. He pauses on the outskirts, just on the stairs, and scans over the small town. Ashley Rosenheim has been lost in thought for a while - staring first at his feet, then at the waste of the crumbled pillars. Eventually his eyes found the statue of the King of Ruin, ruined itself now. The memories of the day it was unveiled are too strong for him to ignore, and so he lets them play out. Tikhomir Ajuyn spots the man easily, and follows his gaze to the base of the statue. He ambles over, and gives a low whistle from a few fulms away. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Ah, a shame. I remember when it stood tall. Ashley Rosenheim is hardly thinking of it as a shame, but he doesn't open with that. Instead, he surveys the newcomer - the first Hrothgar he's seen in these lands since before the Garleans came. Ashley Rosenheim: The pillars, too, I gather. Tikhomir Ajuyn nods, giving a toothy grin that shows fangs. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Aye. I traveled through here when I was young and lost, still trying to figure out what to do with myself. Tikhomir Ajuyn sighs, and shakes his head. Tikhomir Ajuyn: It ... was a bit of a shock, to come here and see the destruction a couple of moons back. Ashley Rosenheim: Hm. Ashley Rosenheim breathes in deep of the salty night air. Ashley Rosenheim: I know the feeling well. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Apologies. I mistook you for a soldier; I used to know a few back when I came through and traded. Ashley Rosenheim smiles wryly. It's an utterly humorous look. Ashley Rosenheim: Can't imagine why. Ashley Rosenheim's expression broadens ever so slightly - a single twitch of his lips - and he's back to staring out at the loch.

Tikhomir Ajuyn blinks at him, then chuckles softly. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Fair enough. I didn't mean to disturb you, and I can go, if you like. Ashley Rosenheim: No, by all means. Tikhomir Ajuyn: You just... Tikhomir Ajuyn crosses his arms, thinking. Ashley Rosenheim: ...Yes? Tikhomir Ajuyn: You look sad. I realize I'm a stranger, but... Ashley Rosenheim is surprised. It may even show on his face. Ashley Rosenheim: ...This is a sad land. Ashley Rosenheim breathes. Ashley Rosenheim: I've a child. And I'm thinking of all that she's had to do in my stead to make this a place worth living in again. Tikhomir Ajuyn goes quiet at that, and looks away. His tail flicks behind him idly. He isn't exactly sure what to say to that. Tikhomir Ajuyn: You must be proud. That she's accomplished so much. Ashley Rosenheim nods, stoically and wordlessly. Tikhomir Ajuyn offers a smile again. Tikhomir Ajuyn: My apologies, I didn't mean to drag you out of your brooding. Ashley Rosenheim: What brings you back here? Tikhomir Ajuyn motions at his chocobo. Tikhomir Ajuyn: I've been out hunting the past week, and I've come to trade my kills. I take commissions for families, as well as help cull unruly beastkin. Ashley Rosenheim nods his approval. Ashley Rosenheim: Too few are willing to do it. Tikhomir Ajuyn gives a small snort. Tikhomir Ajuyn: It's something of a family trade. My wife and her mother taught me. Before I met her clan, I was a gunbreaker. Tikhomir Ajuyn speaks his words easily, but there's a sadness to his eyes, and he frowns. Ashley Rosenheim was about to ask if they're Gyr Abanian, then sees that look. Ashley Rosenheim: ...Were they Gyr Abanian? Tikhomir Ajuyn blinks at that, and shakes his head. Tikhomir Ajuyn: No. Keeper Miqo'te, actually, living in the Black Shroud, sometimes the East End, before the Wall went up. Ashley Rosenheim doesn't know what to say to that - and so he looks back out at the statue of the Ruiner. After a time, he speaks again. Ashley Rosenheim: ...If only their steel could have gone the way of our stone. Tikhomir Ajuyn huffs, and shakes his head. Tikhomir Ajuyn: If only. I did my part -- smuggling people under or around the Wall, or picking off patrols if I could. Ashley Rosenheim regards him with solemn but genuine admiration. Ashley Rosenheim: That's... that's good. Tikhomir Ajuyn smiles. Tikhomir Ajuyn: I do what I can. I didn't dare venture into Gyr Abania proper until after the liberation, as I didn't need one of the Garleans thinking me some 'beast man'. Tikhomir Ajuyn snorts, and rolls his eyes. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Better an arrow in the dark than that. Ashley Rosenheim knows there's a reason he didn't see very many Hrothgar during his years of service in the Empire - even among the conscripts. He nods, a dark look in his eyes. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Forgive me, I never introduced myself. Tikhomir Ajuyn offers a short bow. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Tikhomir. Ashley Rosenheim inclines his head, and the gesture is no less respectful than a full bow. Ashley Rosenheim: Rosenheim. Tikhomir Ajuyn wants to make a joke about shortening his name to Rosy but even he knows that won't fly. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Well met, Rosenheim. Ashley Rosenheim hesitates, then asks the question he's been keeping bottled up. Ashley Rosenheim: You said you knew some former soldiers. Kingsguard? Tikhomir Ajuyn has to think about that. Tikhomir Ajuyn: ... Yes? I believe they were called that. High up on the chain, as it were. I traded with a few here and there. Ashley Rosenheim: Do you happen to recall their names? I'm trying to track down any who might be of assistance to the rebuilding. Ashley Rosenheim is, in fact, looking for information that could be useful to his daughter. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Hmm... One was Folles, I think. Tikhomir Ajuyn scratches his chin and while he thinks. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Einar smiled at me quite often, but paid fairly. And ... a woman? Ironhand, or some such? Ashley Rosenheim is surprised to know so many of those names. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Someone you knew? Ashley Rosenheim: More acquainted with, but yes. Tikhomir Ajuyn waves a hand. Tikhomir Ajuyn: I haven't seen any of them since I crossed the Velodyna and traveled to the Shroud, some twenty five or so years back, I'm sorry to say. Ashley Rosenheim considers for only a moment longer, then nods to himself. Ashley Rosenheim: There's a free company in Ul'dah - the Sandsea - that hosts some few former Kingsguard knights. If you're looking for old connections, that would be a fitting place to start. Tikhomir Ajuyn makes a face at the mention of Ul'dah. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Ah, the desert. I will give it some thought; thank you, Rosenheim. I can't promise I will drop by, as the heat does not agree with me, and cities... Tikhomir Ajuyn shivers. Ashley Rosenheim: Nor with me. But if nothing else, it lets you work up a sweat. Tikhomir Ajuyn gives him a flat look. Tikhomir Ajuyn: I'm covered in fur. Sweat is the last thing I need. Tikhomir Ajuyn manages a stern expression for all of two seconds, before chuckling. Ashley Rosenheim: ...Point taken. Ashley Rosenheim lets out a small chuckle himself. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Thank you for the information, though. I'd wondered over the years what had happened to the lot of them. Ashley Rosenheim: Too many disappeared without a trace. Ashley Rosenheim thinks, despite himself, back to the Resonatorium, and the piles of bodies Ashe agreed to help sort through - not knowing if they were dead to further Zenos' plans for her. Ashley Rosenheim: ...Too many. Tikhomir Ajuyn's lips part in a small growl, and he shakes his head. Tikhomir Ajuyn: ... That i know only too well. I was fortunate enough to bury my wife, but others of our clan were not so lucky. And the Garleans only made it worse for many. Ashley Rosenheim: I'm sorry. Ashley Rosenheim has a feeling Tikhomir Ajuyn will wave off the condolences, but it feels like the only right thing to say. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Thank you. I suspect it's only worse for you, never knowing if your people are alive or not, and not having proof. Tikhomir Ajuyn has something empathetic there, with his last words, as if he knows the feeling only too well. Ashley Rosenheim knows he's had it far, far better than most - what with all of those who have turned up alive, if not well. Ashley Rosenheim: I've my daughter. That's more than most can say. Tikhomir Ajuyn: It is, yes. ... I must admit, I'm glad you have your child. I never found out what happened to mine. Ashley Rosenheim scowls at the thought. This time, even a word of sympathy seems too banal for such a tragedy. Tikhomir Ajuyn pats Ashley Rosenhiem's shoulder gently. Tikhomir Ajuyn: T'was years ago - you've no need to give me sympathies or be angry on my behalf. Ashley Rosenheim: ...A sad land. Gods only hope the children who survived will be able to make it better. Tikhomir Ajuyn: We can only hope, and help them make a better world for the morrow. That's why I help out as best I can. Ashley Rosenheim: I've wasted enough time you might've spent doing just that. Ashley Rosenheim offers a slightly more noticeable smile. Ashley Rosenheim: I'll leave you to your good work. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Pah! Tikhomir Ajuyn scoffs and waves a hand. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Sometimes help is a good conversation. Thank you for it. Ashley Rosenheim: Likewise. Ashley Rosenheim does, in truth, feel much lighter. Ashley Rosenheim: If you've a mind to reach out back in the capital, I'll be at the Keane house. Tikhomir Ajuyn makes note of the name, though it's unlikely, because any more than twenty people makes him break out into hives. Tikhomir Ajuyn: I will keep that in mind. Ashley Rosenheim: Safe journeys, then. Ashley Rosenheim begins to walk back across the loch, toward the White Aisle and the city proper. Tikhomir Ajuyn nods, and then reaches into his pack. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Before you go- Ashley Rosenheim: Yes? Tikhomir Ajuyn: Here. Tikhomir Ajuyn hands over a small satchel of what smells like jerky, and a couple of dried fruits. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Some dinner. You looked hungry. Ashley Rosenheim shakes his head. Ashley Rosenheim: You've much more need of it than me. But thank you. Tikhomir Ajuyn: Save it for a rainy day, then, or pay it forward. Tikhomir Ajuyn waves his hand, and turns back to his chocobo. Ashley Rosenheim: If you insist. Ashley Rosenheim gives one last wave, then begins to jog back. Tikhomir Ajuyn waves after him, and then turns back to the Saltery.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 6: The Rescue

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Nadya’s first real job as a vampire’s assistant means venturing into a den of criminals. Lily’s girlfriend is more than she seems.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Maricruz Espinoza was born somewhere around the shifting borders of Texas and Mexico in the year 1901. Her madre moved Mari and her three younger brothers to New York to live with their extended family following the death of their father. Prohibition was ratified and her cousins found her work in the rum-running business.

They worked for a man who only went by a title: The Baron.

Somewhere else in New York City, maybe while Mari was sitting down with her brothers and a home-cooked meal, the Council was being formed of six of the city’s most powerful and influential vampires at the same time. They laid down laws — pacts by which every Council member and those within their Clan were to follow… or else. But every system just starting out has flaws. Like during Prohibition; where the mass disagreement with the law gave way to speakeasies, rum runners, and corruption. In the newly formed vampire community of New York it wasn’t as easy to keep track of those being Turned.

She doesn’t remember how it happened. Probably one of The Baron’s men got her. Maybe a newbie who couldn’t control their impulses. But she remembers passing out — the pain — and waking up feeling like she’d gone forty days and forty nights in the desert.

But with no brand to keep her safe.

It’s a startling story; the kind that makes history buffs drool and gothic groupies stare in awe through their red color-contacts. But Nadya couldn’t care less. There’s only one thing on her mind.

“Does Lily know?”

Mari’s snorted laughter is just barely above a whisper. “I could ask you the same.”

“What, that I like going to costume bars?” She does her best to hide the folder from plain sight but it’s not enough. Mari isn’t impressed.

“I could smell the Council’s claim all over you the moment we met,” her nose crinkles, “with that… stench of self-importance; of power. And you wouldn’t be here without knowing the secret so how about we cut the crap and get to the part where you and I agree to keep this from Lily for as long as possible?”

Maricruz holds out her hand to shake. Something they didn’t do when they first met at the apartment and she gets why when she takes it. The coolness of her touch; same as Adrian’s, same as Kamilah’s. Once you know the trademarks of a vampire they get easier to recognize.

Why do you care so much, she wants to ask — but doesn’t. They may both be walking into a den of wolves but at least Mari is a dog in this metaphor. Making friends won’t be on the agenda.

Mari exits the coat closet first. Gives a quick look on either side before gesturing for Nadya to follow behind her.

“What if the guard told —”

“Don’t assume things you don’t know.” Hisses the vampire in reply.

Nadya frowns. “Isn’t it better to be prepared?”

“Look,” she rounds on Nadya, “this isn’t one of Lily’s Blood Suckers games. Vampires are fucking weird — and this guy’s about as weird as they come. The ones you’ve met have probably kept up with the times. That’s not the case with El Baron here. Just follow my lead.”

While she watches Mari’s rapidly receding back Nadya sticks her tongue out for good measure. Sometimes even the little victories matter.

At the end of the hall is another door with faint music and dim lighting filtering through the bottom gap. Mari reaches out for the knob but it opens unbidden. The sudden light makes Nadya wince — her eyes take a moment to adjust.

There’s no time to ask Mari if The Shrike looks anything like its forefathers. Walls lined in red brick are decorated with the heads of various trophy animals — ranging in rarity from a common stag to what looks like (but can’t possibly be, could it?) a hippopotamus with its mouth frozen open. Ready to take a bite.

The deep cherry lacquer on the wooden floors make every polished step heard — a cacophony trying to overtake the man playing a vintage piano in the back corner. Beside the piano man a bartop begins, the same wood as the rest of the place, with the old-timey feel of an unlived nostalgia Nadya gets when she sees old movies. Only this isn’t a prop — the generous layer of dust on dozens of the bottles lining the reflective back wall prove that well enough.

A few men smoking fat cigars near the entrance pause their conversation to watch Maricruz and Nadya enter. Their eyes are dark; shadowed. Indulgence and arousal bead on their upper lips.

One catches her gaze and winks; pulls back his lips in a smarmy grin to reveal yellowed teeth as tobacco smoke pours from his maw like a burst dam. Nadya hastily rushes to catch up with the hem of Mari’s dress. His amused laugh is charred and guttural.

Mari leans up against the bartop and belongs. They both do on the outside but Mari — she acts like it. Names long-forgotten smuggled gains for them to drink and doesn’t take the bartender’s grimness for a ‘no.’

She hands Nadya a tumbler of honey-colored alcohol with a cube of clear ice in the middle. Nudges her to partake silently while downing her own. The booze carves a long path down her throat and settles uncomfortably. Makes the room suddenly seem a touch warmer — which only makes the chill venting in that much worse on her bare arms.

“You’re shit at this.” Mari mutters.

Nadya accepts an unspoken challenge then. Places her glass back down and gestures for a refill — which burns possibly more the second time around. But the deed is done and Mari looks a combination of impressed and exasperated.

Probably not what Lily had in mind when she suggested her roommate and possible-girlfriend get to know one another better. But life is full of surprises.

Nadya mimics her companion; leans back against the bar with her elbows on the edge. Still keeps the envelope clutched so tight it might puncture. They survey The Shrike’s inhabitants together.

“So, which one?” Nadya whispers. She’s got her eyes on a man with a beard to rival Santa and a monocle. He looks stately enough to be in charge.

“Hm? Oh,” Mari shakes her head, “The Baron isn’t up here. If he was it’d be a sign for us to high-tail it out.”

Before Nadya can question her Mari’s blue curls bounce — she jerks her head towards a set of stairs at the back of one of the brick walls. There the lamps are dimmer still; barely casting a glow on the golden railing descending into the dark.

“Down there?” Nadya asks.

“Yup. El Baron rarely comes up from the Pit. Likes the fighting too much.”

“Of course he does.” Because why would things ever be easy for me is her unspoken complaint. She steels herself and tosses her hair over her shoulder. Ready to enter.

Then Mari grabs her by the arm.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Nadya breaks free after a quick struggle. “My job.”

“You’re a human going into the Pit. You’re gonna get eaten alive down there. Literally.”

“Adrian said —”

Mari barks a laugh that settles in Nadya’s stomach at an awkward angle. “‘Adrian said,’” she mocks, “no matter what he said there’s no way you’re leaving this place alive without sticking by me. He’s probably already looking at new applicants.”

Mari may be right — Nadya knows she wouldn’t have even gotten in the doorway without her help. But she’s still a Clanless vampire in a Clan den and from everything Adrian’s told her there’s nothing good coming out of something like that. And… and she trusts Adrian. He wouldn’t send her to her death. Not when he went through so much to save her life.

He wouldn’t.

“Maricruz,” Nadya keeps her voice low, feels the fuzziness of strong alcohol at the edges of her words, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But I came here to do one thing and, I’m sorry, but I can’t back down now. Not with how much is at stake.”

It makes the vampire shake her head in disappointment. “Like you could possibly know…”

“I know the Clans and your kind have their issues,” Nadya continues, “but I’d like to think getting to the bottom of the Feral crisis would benefit everyone.”

Whatever Mari was ready to say dies in her eyes as she takes in Nadya’s words. She silently mouths ‘Feral crisis?’ but nothing more. There’s a sudden consternation in her brow. Whatever it is, Nadya doesn’t know, but she does take her opening to slip out of Mari’s immediate space — heads towards the stairs to the Pit.

“Thank you again,” she’s sincere, too, “maybe we’ll catch up like Lily wanted. When I’ve done my job.”

Despite everything inside her screaming against it, Nadya turns and descends into the Pit.

Oh yeah, that’s definitely The Baron. She didn’t expect him to look precisely like the love child of the Monopoly man and the Godfather but some stereotypes just can’t be overcome.

There’s a brawl out in the middle of the floor. A couple men in a no-holds-barred brawl while onlookers jeer and trade bills with every punch and fumble. Others keep to sofas and stools littered around the walls. Nadya nudges her way through a pair of tall twins to catch sight of the fighters — and she quickly wishes she hadn’t.

One’s eye isn’t just purple, it’s bulging and crying a little blood and looks like it might’ve gotten skewered by one of the little metal shivs inside an audience member’s martini glass. One man’s suspender straps hang limp and broken around his waist near a large gash in his side. The other favors his ribs slightly and it only takes one look to understand why; she’s only ever seen internal bleeding on television but if it’s anything like real life it looks like that.

There’s a crash and a whooping cheer from a flapper on a man’s lap; Nadya and the crowd hastily step aside as a broken bottle neck-end rolls into the fighter’s fray.

They both dive for it at inhuman speeds. Red eyes and fangs may be not unlike show props but these aren’t fakers — these are vampires through and through. The one with both good eyes claims his prize; turns with the brown glass glinting in the light of the overhead chandelier.

She turns away, eyes squeezed shut, and the crowd erupts into applause.

“Can’t say I’m surprised a little treat like you ain’t got the stomach for violence. Begs the question of what you’re doin’ seekin’ it out, though.”

His mobster accent is almost farcical. If she wasn’t so near hurling up her lunch at the smell of blood she’d laugh. But when Nadya raises her head and looks into the bright red eyes of an oily patron laughter is the last thing on her mind.

The watchers have started to disperse; give Mister Oily a wide berth to reach out and slide his arm around Nadya’s waist. She struggles for freedom but this vampire isn’t like Maricruz; there’s no questioning whether he’s friend or foe. His nails threaten to tear the fabric of her dress; dig in hard enough to make her wince.

“O-Ow. Let go of me. Now.”

His grin widens. “Hey now — don’t be like that. We could have fun, you and me.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes, “I doubt it.”

But her wriggling attempts at freedom seem to only excite the vampire more. He’s close enough that she can smell the whiskey on his breath. Whiskey and the same smell coming from the fighting ring.

“Seriously. Let go.” She tries again. “You do not wanna piss off the guy I work for.”

“And who would that be?” barks a gruff, angry voice from across the Pit.

Nadya feels sweat bead down her spine in a thick drop. If the callout was good for one thing it was getting the vampire’s slippery hands off her — but at what cost.

She takes a moment; steels herself against the look of sudden fear on the creep’s face before she turns bodily to face The Baron in his large booth.

The Pit is silent. The only breath — hers.

Before she can open her mouth The Baron’s beady glare darts up to the vampire behind her.

“I’m guessing you didn’t bring your own tart tonight, Arnold?”

Arnold? Nadya mouths in disbelief, but Arnold definitely isn’t as funny as his name.

“Nah, boss. Was busy finishin’ that Litchfield job.”

“That’s what I thought.” The Baron’s head turns to look around the Pit. The fact she can’t see his neck makes him look almost animatronic.

“So whose whore is she, then?!”

Whispers and mutterings travel between the vampires in a breeze. One looks ready to say something but his friend holds him back.

Her first instinct is to be extremely offended — but there’s no Kamilah, no Adrian to protect her this time — so she stays silent. Feels the presence of Arnold back off into the shadows to leave her in the proverbial spotlight.

The Baron doesn’t seem pleased he’s met with silence. His scowl deepens and he turns a similar shade of purple to his pinstriped suit. Then he levels on her.

“Well go on, kitten,” said not with seduction, but building ire, “go back to your master.”

Just before panic sets in, she recalls Adrian’s final words before dropping her off at the subway station.

“You’ll want to be brave and stand your ground. But those aren’t mutual, Nadya,” and his knuckles went white from his grip on the steering wheel, “you have to treat a Council member with respect even if they don’t deserve it. We all hate The Baron but that doesn’t mean we can treat him however we want. Bow as you approach him and announce who you are. Lies won’t do anyone any good, least of all you.”

Being brave and standing her ground aren’t mutual; that’s what he’d said. This must be what he meant.

Nadya’s careful not to step in the pools of drying blood on the concrete floor while she approaches. A pair of larger vampires step closer as if to stop her but she doesn’t falter — keeps walking with her head held high.

The Baron holds up a hand littered with golden rings. “Let her come. I wanna see who told this hussy she had a pair of balls over tits.”

In front of his seat Nadya offers the shortest and most curt of bows she can muster. If Adrian hadn’t mentioned it specifically she wouldn’t even have bothered. Not like the pig deserved it. But the display makes The Baron shake with a haughty laugh.

“At least she knows her place!”

A flapper beside him flashes a brief fanged smile. “Think you can get her on her knees? I’d like to see that.”

“Now there’s an idea.” He looks Nadya up and down with hunger and greed. “Hear that, hussy? Why don’t’cha get on your knees? Rouge ‘em up a bit.”

She swallows down whiskey-tinged bile and offers the envelope instead.

“I’m here on behalf of the Council. You’ve been served.” Thank you, Law and Order.

All eyes fall on The Baron. His upper lip curls; he swiftly snatches the envelope from between them. When he catches sight of the wax seal he his anger bloats him further.

“Adrian fucking Raines; how am I not surprised…” The Baron rips the flimsy seal — practically yanks the papers out to give them a good look.

This part she wishes she’d discussed with Adrian. Did she need to bow before leaving? Could she just take off? Was Maricruz still upstairs waiting to see if the shrieks of her untimely demise would pierce through The Shrike?

The Baron gives the contents of the summons several derogatory huffs and snorts; clenches the packet in his fist as though it were as thin as tissue. Whatever superiority he looked upon Nadya with first is now gone — replaced by loathing, spite. A desire to see pain and revel in it the same way they had with the brawlers.

“Too much of a pussy to come here himself, eh?” And because it takes Nadya a moment to realize he’s addressing her, he barks: “Speak! Fucking bloodbag.”

Hot frustration bursts in her gut. “Like you would have let him in? I’m not that stupid, and neither is he. But you’re bound to the summons now, Baron, there’s no getting out of it.”

His chest puffs up. “You come into my territory, speak to me like that… Of all the cockamamie insults Raines could pay me this is by far the worst.”

With nothing but a gesture from The Baron, Nadya doesn’t even have time to blink before she’s held in place by a vampire on each arm.

“Hey!”

“‘Hey!’” parrots the same flapper. The rest of the Pit laughs at the display.

“Pathetic,” The Baron sneers, “Raines couldn’t even send a pretty twat to wet my whistle. Still… now comes the question of what to do with you.”

Nadya struggles in vain. “Dude, if you —”

The Baron jerks to a stand and causes a collective gasp around the room. He jabs the packet in his fist at her with a bellowing roar of rage. “How dare you speak to me with that kind of disrespect! What kinda whore do you think you are?!”

“I’m not a whore!”

The word cracks in Nadya’s throat as The Baron backhands her with his clenched fist. Sends her head snapping aside and a dizzying pain to shoot through her body.

“I’ve had about enough’a your lip!” To his men, “Lock the whore up in the Cellar. Maybe a few decades down there can teach her some manners!”

“A whore’s a whores a whore.” mocks the flapper; though one brazen look from The Baron has her silent as the grave.

The vampires begin to drag Nadya — still struggling — towards a door at the darkest part of the Pit. Heart racing words choked up in her lungs fear stifling her every breath she looks around, almost on the cusp of begging for help, but the only thing she sees are dozens of pairs of bright red eyes and malicious sneering grins.

There is no help.

“You can’t—can’t do this,” she shouts back to The Baron. Tries to dig her heels into the floor and feels one snap off. There’s a blur on her right and she watches with disgust as Arnold sucks on the heel stem lewdly. “Adrian knows I’m here! He won’t let you do this!”

“Is that so, toots?” His rage quelled, The Baron resumes his seat and throws his arms around the back of the sofa. Two flappers curl up against him and flash Nadya twin hisses.

She hates to sound like a cliche but the words tumble from her unbidden. “You’re not gonna get away with this!”

One of the vampires nearly yanks her arm from its socket to get the Cellar door open. The darkness calls to her, cold and villainous. Holy crap.

“Pretty sure I already have. Who’s up for another brawl, ey?!”

The vampires of the Pit cheer. Nadya bursts into tears.

There’s nothing she can give them in trade and begging for her life just seems so… pathetic. Like somehow she’s supposed to be stronger than this just because she’s a part of Adrian’s Clan. Or because she belongs to them, more like.

The Cellar is a long row of rusty cells on both sides. Some are empty. Some have captives — vampire or mortal, she can’t rightly tell — thrusting themselves out through the bars; spurred onward by the thought of freedom. They pass one where a figure with their back turned to the door stays huddled on the ground; motionless — lifeless, thinks Nadya, and she tries to break free of their hold one last time to no avail.

“Lookie here, we gotcha a neighbor.”

Nadya looks up when she realizes they aren’t talking to her. They’ve stopped in front of an occupied cell.

A man — no, not with those eyes, a vampire — stands in the middle of the cramped space. While some of the others they had passed were wearing worn rags or clothes that didn’t quite fit with the time, this man’s rust-red leather jacket and tight jeans could very well get him on the cover of a magazine. His devilish gaze is half obscured by his mop of dark hair.

Despite the dire nature of her situation Nadya can’t help but feel like she’s being imprisoned next to a pop star.

One of her jailers nudges the other; frustrated. “Why’s he sayin’ nothin’?”

“Probably too hungry,” the thug grunts a laugh, “ey, Jaxxie? You too hungry to think right?”

But ‘Jaxxie’ keeps his vow of silence. Nadya’s heart breaks for him.

The thuggish one grunts at his friend. “Maybe cellin’ him next to a human will drive him crazy faster.”

With a rusty squeal the empty cell door to their right gives way. Nadya’s never thought of herself as claustrophobic and isn’t looking forward to revisiting the idea.

She stumbles as she’s shoved inside. Expects to hear the slam of the cell door. But instead one of the vampires looms in the doorway; transfixed.

“Oi, you comin’?” The other vampire sounds distant. Likely eager to get back to watching the fights.

“Yeah yeah,” replies his friend in a dazed tone. The longer he stares the more Nadya wishes she had been locked up with ‘Jaxxie.’ “Just wanna have a taste. Dun’ care what the Boss said — she’s awful pretty.”

“How are you a literal cartoon henchman?” Nadya spits — literally spits — and watches with brief satisfaction as it lands just shy of his eye. The vampire recoils — then snarls with fangs bared.

“Oh that’s it, I’m gonna bleed your whore neck out!”

With a cry — so much for her flash of courage — Nadya squeezes her eyes shut and prepares for the pain. She’s not spent much time considering what having her throat ripped out might feel like — so when there’s nothing but the tingle of her nerves dialed to eleven she’s almost glad death wasn’t as awful as they said.

Then a solid thud shocks her into looking where the vampire lies face-down on the concrete cell floor.

The broken-off end of a billiards cue sticks out of his back.

After she scrambles to the back wall Nadya watches the vampire’s death unfold. His skin withering, sucking in on itself and going dark, veiny gray. Then like snow under the sun he begins to wilt; flecks gathering into the air and dispersing. When she realizes he’s turning to ash Nadya sucks in a breath and holds it; cheeks puffed and nose plugged, to keep any from getting into her lungs.

The cue collapses onto the ground; the perfect (if unlikely) weapon for this particular evil.

A brief echo of footsteps spur her to action; Nadya grasps the cue and holds the jagged end out like she knows what to do with it. In theory, yes — execution however might prove to be a bit more difficult. Doesn’t stop her from trying.

She should feel relief when Maricruz appears in front of the bars with the other half of the cue dangling in one hand and a long tube in the other. But adrenaline and probably the closest she’s ever come to sheer unadulterated terror keep her on edge.

“Ma—Mari…?”

Mari eyes the sharp wood. “I’d like to see you try, chica.”

The vampiress offers her a helping hand to stand. Nadya takes it warily; wavers before practically going limp in her arms. Mari holds her up — displeased.

“Alright, I appreciate the attraction but I’m really more into geeks.”

With a strangled laugh Nadya manages to stabilize herself against the cell bars. Mari nods as if satisfied with her effort. Then, in a blur, she’s five feet away and forcing a ring of old metal keys through the bars of the cell beside Nadya’s.

“Took you long enough, Espinoza.” Grunts a deep voice on the other side of the wall. The keys jingle as they’re sorted.

Mari shrugs. Obviously nonplussed by the frustration of her companion.

“Well you weren’t the one on the ground looking like a snack.”

“You only say that because you’re attracted to her type.”

“What, women? That’s lesbophobic, Jax.”

“Yup, that’s me; your big ol’ lesbophobic boss.”

She watches as the man in leather — Jaxxie, no, Jax — twists the right key and kicks the door open with a deeply rooted sense of satisfaction. Mari offers him what Nadya previously thought was a tube, but the sparse torchlight of the Dungeon catches on the steel blade of a sword as he unsheathes it.

“Holycrap...”

Jax swings the sheath strap over his chest and looks between the women.

“You know her?”

Mari looks for a moment as though she’s debating introductions. Finally she nods. “Yeah. She’s uh… well unfortunately she works for Adrian Raines.”

If he was previously disinterested Jax’s expressive growl of anger says it all. Makes Nadya feel weak in the knees again.

“And you rescued one of the Clan’s cattle… why, Espinoza?” He rounds on Mari who, to her credit, doesn’t flinch, move, or blink.

“She’s dating my roommate.”

Both Jax and Mari look at Nadya in surprise. She swallows down her racing heart and leans on the cue for support. “What, she didn’t tell you that before? She’s dating my very human roommate, Lily.”

“She mentioned an interest… but not that she was human.” Silent words are exchanged between the vampires, but Mari doesn’t intend to let it last.

“Come on. We need to get going, like, five minutes ago. You can give me a real thank you when we’re back at the Shad —”

Maricruz cuts herself off. Both of them exchange glances and focus on Nadya.

It’s frankly frustrating as all get out.

“Listen,” she wearily gestures between them, “I don’t care. Like really — I couldn’t care less right now. Just… please help me get out of here. That’s all I’m focused on.” Then she fixates on Mari with a pleading look. “Just help me get back to Lil’.”

Maricruz definitely doesn’t seem the type to ask for permission but there’s little else the look she gives Jax could mean. And it makes her stomach drop when he seems to actually be considering leaving her behind. But, after taking in the state of her, he looks at the very least pitying.

“Yeah, alright. Lets get her up. Here, help me with her arm.”

It takes no great effort on the part of both vampires but every last drop of energy Nadya has to hold onto them during the escape. Later she plans on asking them exactly how they got out — what hidden sewage ducts they must have wormed their ways through — but that would be much much later.

“Thanks for giving me your boots.”

“Borrow. I let you borrow my boots. Next time don’t break a fucking heel so you don’t end up limping all the way through an escape.”

Nadya wiggles her toes in the roomy leather and nods. Hugs herself tighter against the night chill while Mari watches her with attitude and a cock in her hip.

“You can take them back on your next date with Lil’.”

Mari takes a moment of quiet thought; when she speaks she can’t help but be hesitant. “You’re not gonna…?”

“Tell her?”

Mari nods.

The breeze brushes Nadya’s hair in her eyes. She quickly pushes it back. “If you like her, whatever. If you hurt her, though, or get her involved in business like The Baron’s, or whatever samurai-dude’s up to —”

“Jax. His name is Jax.”

Right, Jax. He’d left them once they reached the inner city — but not without a promise to Maricruz that they weren’t finished talking. Nadya even felt a little bad for her.

Her point stands. “You keep Lily out of this. At least until I find a way to ease her into it.”

“Why you?” Mari challenges, but it’s halfhearted and without much threat behind it. “Whatever. See you around, chica.”

Mari’s not gotten two steps away before Nadya calls out to her, fumbling around her costume dress frantically.

“Hey, think you could, uh…” She gestures awkwardly to the door.

“What,” then, with raised eyebrows, “you want me to break the door lock?”

“Well my keys are at work and Lily isn’t answering the comm.” Yes, she should probably head back to the office, to Adrian, but first — a shower.

A shadow crosses over Mari’s face. The same sort of vampiric darkness that Nadya’s been forced to endure so many times tonight — it makes her cringe. “What? She’s probably asleep.”

“She had an Underwatcher tournament tonight. That’s why we didn’t go out.”

“Maybe it’s over?”

The looks they exchange carry Mari’s worry to Nadya almost telepathically. Her grip tightens on her half of the wooden cue.

It takes everything inside her to force down her building exhaustion — to follow Maricruz through the busted complex door and up the back stairwell two steps at a time. Her vampire speed wins out as she pushes open the door to her and Lily’s floor.

She’s only just made it onto the landing when Maricruz screams.

“LILY!”

Nadya rushes to the open door of the apartment and clings to the threshold — the edges of her vision going fuzzy. Mari’s on her knees over something on the kitchen tile.

Nadya’s senses have become all too familiar with the smell of blood after tonight’s trip to The Shrike. She violently heaves on instinct when the salted iron tinge assaults her nose.

“Lily, baby, come on — come on open your eyes for me — Lily! Lily! Fuckshit LILY OPEN YOUR EYES!”

Numb, Nadya watches; her world contracting into sharp clarity at the sight of Lily’s crumpled body lying in a pool of her own blood.