#here u go it's less deathy but still painful

[illumwriting]

boy, what a fool you were

So I felt bad for killing off the entire garbage court, so here’s a version in which only a few of em’ die. aka one of em’, but it’s still enough to wound the relationship between Kirin and Will. Warning for character death. No blood, mild violence.

They hear the horns after leaving Strife at Kirin’s and they grab Sips, bundling him onto Smith’s back and sending the two of them flying into the night, towards the old shack by the water. Trott and Ross board up their house, fill the alley with their rubbish and wait.

  The pounding and chanting halts just outside their house, and then the door implodes inwards, raining wooden fragments down around Trott and Ross. Trott bares his teeth and sinks the tip of his iron blade into the neck of the first fae that lunges at him.

  Ross is beside him, behind him and above him, deflecting the worst of the arrow and spears away with ease and stabbing at the frenzy with his iron-tipped tail and claws. A spear still manages to make it’s way through, hitting Trott in the side and Trott howls with pain as the iron sinks into the flesh between his ribs. Ross snarls and dives down, standing over Trott as the selkie curls up into a ball and whimpers.

  Kirin enters then, brushing aside the crowing fae to stand in front of Ross.

  Ross glares at him, tail lashing and his body covered in chips from the fighting. “Don’t touch him.” Ross grinds out, and Kirin shakes his head.

  “You harmed my property.”

  Ross snarls at that. “Will is not property.”

  Kirin draws his sword, and Ross stands taller, the fae pressing in around the trio, the faint chant still on their lips and the need for blood still in their veins.

  “Who gave him the redstone.” Kirin’s voice is flat as he holds the tip of the sword to Ross’s throat.

  Ross blinks at that. “What does it matter?”

  “It’s the only deal I make. You give up whoever gave him the redstone, and I will let the rest of you live.”

  “Swear it.” Ross casts a glance down at Trott and feels the iron graze his neck and he winces with the flare of pain.

  “I swear it.” Kirin promises, and watches Ross smile softly, faintly as he looks back up from Trott’s fetal form.

  “It was me.” Ross says and Kirin drives the sword home, his face drawn. He hadn’t expected it to be Ross.

  Ross crumbles, raining down shards around Trott and Trott lets out a broken sob, reaching out a weak hand to drag a bit of seaglass towards him. Kirin bends down, picking up a blue stained glass shard and holds it in the air.

The Hunt is over.