#his opossum scream caught me off guard

[cognito-ergo-creo]

Rained In

[[In which these two dumbasses say so many words to each other.]]

“Damn,” Ashei sighed on the second day. He leaned against one wall of the cave, watching the rain. “Would you call this is a typhoon or a monsoon?”  

The storm had not caught them off guard. In fact, it had rolled in slowly, darkening the sky for several days in warning. It had given them enough time to find somewhere to take shelter that was big enough for the two of them, the cart, his horse, her boar, with room to spare. To be on the safe side, they had ventured deep into the cave until they were satisfied that there was nothing else already in residence that would take offense to them being there. Still, the two of them performed their own protective rites to keep their little campsite safe.  

And then the rain came like it had been waiting for them to get settled.

And it came like it hadn’t rained in years.

And it came some more.

For the first day and a half, they had managed to entertain themselves by taking the time to finally sort through their gear and other general cart-keeping. They mended what needed to be mended, sharpened what needed to be sharpened, and made a firm and final pile of what they no longer needed to hold on to. The animals got groomed. The people got groomed. They cleaned the cave. Their bedroll moved around the camp no less than seven times, and got more stuffing added (and removed) twice.  

By the second day, Ashei was, to put it simply, bored out of his mind.

Maj leaned against him, having set her book down by the campfire some time ago. “Don’t think we’re near enough to the coast for it to be a typhoon, and monsoons are more wind than this. So, neither. It’s just a big ol’ storm.”

“Huh.” Thunder rolled in the distance. “You piss off any storm elementals then?” He nudged her playfully. She snorted and nudged him back.

“Not recently, no. C’mon, you’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes. If you haven’t willed the rain away by now, I’m sorry to tell you but you’re not a storm mage.”

“That’s heartbreaking. I’m heartbroken.”

“I know you are, honey. But you had to find out one day, and you’re starting to drive me crazy. Let’s play cards or something.” Maj took hold of the arm that had wrapped itself around her shoulders and pulled on Ashei as she spoke. He resisted by pulling her back to his side.

“I don’t wanna play cards with you! You cheat!”

“So do you!”

They played cards. Despite his better judgement, they played with her deck. They counted wins by trading pebbles and other debris back and forth, and he was winning. Based on the size of her smirk after another loss, she was letting him win to prove a point.  

“You’re cheating! You’re cheating right now! I know you are. Who uses magic to lose?” He threw his cards down, disrupting their carefully stacked piles of winnings.

Maj laughed and rescued her cards from the ground. “Well, it’s not magic, I’ll tell you that much. You know I can’t do magic on my own, and Vee wouldn’t waste his time with card tricks.” Ashei hated it when she talked about her book like a person. She shuffled the deck as she continued. “There’s a little bit of counting involved, but mainly I know what cards are in play by the backs. Each one is slightly different, so I memorized them.”

“That doesn’t explain how you change your whole hand. I’ve seen you do that.”

“I have my ways.” She did a trick with the cards.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what they are?” Ashei asked after several long seconds passed in silence.

“Why? A lady’s gotta have some secrets.”

“’Cause I know you wanna tell me about it.”

Maj stuck her tongue out at Ashei. He chuckled and returned the gesture.  

“You’re right, it’s pretty clever and I’m proud of myself for coming up with it. The fronts of my cards are decorated with little transmutation circles. If I rub a certain component on my fingers before I play, I can touch one of those places and change its appearance. It’s pretty straight forward.”

“I don’t know, stuffing your sleeves with cards sounds like a more straight forward way to cheat.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Absolutely not.” He made a show of shaking out his sleeves. A card fell out. It wasn’t one of hers. “I have no idea how that got there.”

They both laughed, the sound echoing against the walls of the cave and rivaling the sounds of the storm for a few moments. Once they calmed down, they were left with the problem of finding something else to do. With eyebrows wiggling like they had a life of their own, Ashei proposed a more... physical way to pass the time. Maj declined his offer; she didn’t want the animals watching, and it would ruin the mood to know they were out in the rain. Neri and Pappy seemed to sigh in relief. Ultimately, they decided on playing more cards, but with Ashei’s untampered with deck.

“Let’s play a new game. I’m thinking Truth or Lies, but with cards. Loser of each hand has to tell the winner about a story and the winner has to guess if it’s true or not. It can’t be a story you’ve told me before.”

“Isn’t that a drinking game?”

“Well, now it’s a card game.”

“A story I haven’t told you before, huh?” Ashei nodded as Maj got into her most comfortable slouch. “I feel like you’re making these rules up to bully me. What do I get if I guess right?”

“A kiss!” He wiggled his eyebrows again. “No, I don’t know. The thrill of being right? The rest of the story?”

“Let’s go with the rest of the story. Now deal the cards, Ponytail.”

After discussing what game use as the skeleton of their new game, they played. Ashei lost the first round after an embarrassingly short amount of time.  

“Ouch, that hurt. Okay. First story.” He scratched at the stubble that was already trying to take control over his face as he thought. “I’ve got it! Once, in a storm much like this one, I had to leap across a river while carrying—”

“—I’ve met Teo.” Maj cut him off. “Getting caught cheating this early isn’t a good sign for you.”

Ashei grinned, putting his hands up in defeat. He dealt the cards again, maybe bending luck a little more to his side as he did so. Maj lost the next two hands in a row. She sighed and leveled a look that could wilt vegetation at Ashei. Ashei grinned wider in response and waited.

“Alright, here’s a school story: I had my own room, but I slept in the library most of the time.”  

A simple statement, with none of her typical vigor or gestures. “I think that’s a lie,” said Ashei after a brief deliberation.

Maj’s face split into a smug smirk. “Nope, it’s true. I was so young they didn’t want to stick me in the regular dorms, and having me room with a professor was—no. Out of the question. So. I got my own little room. Jasper still thinks it used to be a broom closet, but it was fine for me. ‘Cept I wasn’t used to sleeping on my own. It was too quiet, so the library it was. It was busier and cleaner than the dining room; folks in there all hours of the day. Just knowing there were other people around was enough for me to relax enough to sleep.”

She lost her second hand.

“Fucker.” She sighed. “How about another Baby Maji story? I scared Ruben so bad that he went off and became a member of the clergy.”

Ashei snorted his drink. “W—which one is Ruben?”

“One up from me.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that that happened.” He shifted to get more comfortable, foot brushing against her leg. “What happened?”

“Ruben told Mica and Mica told me, so it’s a third-hand story, but I guess it’s true. Neither of them are much for embellishing tales. The two of us—Ruben and me—used to share a room before I left, and since no one ever took the second bed out of his room, it’s where I stayed when I came back for term breaks and holidays. This happened when I was like, eight, maybe? Which would have made him,” she paused, trying to place her brothers’ ages in relation to hers, “fourteen or fifteen.  

“Apparently what happened was he woke up in the middle of the night one night ‘cause he heard something like whispering, or rustling, or something dragging. It was a noise that had no business being in our bedroom, whatever it was. So he rolled over and opened his eyes, and saw me, talking in a language he couldn’t understand to something he couldn’t see... except for the huge black shadow that was on the wall behind me, even though there wasn’t enough light for there to have been a shadow. And then I looked over at him, and my eyes were glowing. He was so scared he couldn’t even scream.  

“He packed his bags at the very ass crack of dawn the next day. He didn’t leave for a few weeks, but he wouldn’t even pass through the same room as me.” Maj scratched the back of her neck and shrugged, signifying the end of the story.  

Ashei tapped his foot against her leg again, this time on purpose. “Your eyes do kinda glow in the dark, you know.”  

On second thought, glowing implied that they produced light. Her eyes just reflected light at the right angles, like a raccoon’s. Or an opossum. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snickering at the comparison. But oh, how comforting he had started to find it when he woke up in the middle of the night and found eyes shining in the dark.

Maj’s shrug and demand to take over as dealer shook Ashei out of his tangent. He passed the deck over with little ceremony. He had been cheating, after all, but so did she. It was with very little surprise that he lost the round that Maj dealt him in retaliation.

“Fair enough. When I was still in the monastary, one of the boys I shared a room with and I decided to put glue into one of the ink bottles of our least favorite Brother.”

“Did you get caught?”

“I didn’t.”

“Bullshit, you didn’t get caught!”

“Well,” he dragged the word out, “I, me, did not get associated with the crime. The other boy did eventually get found out.”

“Oh, I see—”

“—Which is also when I found out I could take hits for other people without physically putting myself in front of them.” He cracked his knuckles to have something to do with his hands. “They weren’t exactly gentle with us there. But I guess when you’re trying to train up holy warriors, why would you be gentle with them?”

“Ashei, what the fuck?”

“It’s a useful feat to have though, taking damage for other people. I’m glad to have it! Really.”

“I ain’t glad you have it. That’s fucked up.”

“What do you mean it’s fucked up?”

“I mean, I wish you’d quit doing it to me. I don’t feel pain anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“Maj—not feeling pain isn’t the same as not being injured—”  

“—I’ll still be fine, it’s—”

“It isn’t “fine” for you, I’m—Maisie—D—did you miss the part where I’m literally a holy warrior?”

“No, I got that, Sir Paladin, what I’m sayin’ is,” she slapped her chest for emphasis, “I’m pretty fucking resilient, so we’ll both be fine if you never pull that shit like with the axe again.”

“You’re talking about that damn ballista again, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!”

“Okay, well, listen, okay. Normal people aren’t usually fine after taking an entire fucking ballista bolt through the chest—”

“That’s my whole point! I was fine! I ain’t nor—”

“—And I’m still going to do my best to protec—”

“--How do you know I’m not some kinda holy warrior too, huh? I—”

A clap of thunder like a mountain being dropped on top of their cave accompanied a flash of lighting so close it bathed the inside of their shelter in bright white light. All of the hair on their arms and legs and everywhere else stood on end from the sheer power of the storm. The animals screamed.  

Silence sat in the cave like another camper until the last echoes of thunder grumbled into the distance.

“I…. I guess that’s how you know I’m not a holy warrior.” Maj said once she found her voice.  

Ashei took a moment longer to catch his breath before laughing. Maj joined in not long after. They laughed until they cried, clutching their stomachs and gasping for breath. They each tried to speak several times before dissolving back into uncontrollable laughter at the face of the other. Once again, Maj was the first to be able to form coherent words.

“My point,” she said through chattering teeth, “I had a point.”

“Okay,” Ashei supplied helpfully from where he was laid out on the floor.

“I was trying to say that I’m not asking you to not have my back. I want you to have my back, and I want to have yours. But I also want you to keep yourself in mind too. Does that even make sense? I just can’t stand seeing someone I love all beat to hell like that and know it’s—”  

“Wait—”

“—all—”

oh no

“—did you just—”

“—my—”  

Her blood simultaneously began to boil and turn to ice as her brain started to catch up with her mouth. Ashei sat up fast enough to give himself a head rush.

“...fault.” She ended weakly.  

Ashei had scooted closer to her, close enough to reach out and touch her, but he kept his hands to himself.

“Did you just say you love me?” He sounded breathless, and not just from laughing.  

Maj couldn’t look at him. She was still staring wide-eyed into the middle distance as she reeled with the realization of what she had said.

“Like, love-love?” He pressed gently. Ashei held his breath until Maj nodded, face firmly hidden in her hands. “Since when?”

Maj groaned and gave an answer to her hands. Ashei waited with patience he didn’t know he had until she scrubbed at her face that was so red it looked painful, blush running from her face, to her ears, and down her chest. Ashei opened his arms to her for a hug. She slunk over to hide her face in his chest, despite the fact that he was the entire reason for her embarrassment.  

“Since that boat ride we took last year.” She sighed like a creature with lungs twice her size. “You were terrified of being out at sea, but you didn’t let it get in your way. You still acted up and played with the crew to make sure they liked us the whole time. The easiest way to keep up safe was staying on their good side. No one noticed how much your hands shook when you weren’t holding something, or how much teeth your smile showed.

“And then, gods, we had to sleep sitting up the whole time because—”

“—because the bunks were too tiny for us to lay together, but we couldn’t just sleep separately,” Ashei remembered that trip vividly.  

“Yeah,” Maj laughed into his shirt, still refusing to meet his eyes. “That’s when we learned how needy we both are. But we survived the boat somehow, and we made it to land, and you held it together long enough to get away from the dock district entirely before you started dry heaving for like twenty whole minutes.

“But somewhere in the middle of your heaving, you looked up at me and smiled. You looked like you wanted to die, and your hair was all sweaty-plastered to your face, and you smiled. At me. Like you were as glad to have me around as you were to be back on dry land. I thought my heart was gonna beat right out of my fool chest through one of the holes I’d made.

“You took it one step further, because that’s what you do. Once you were done being sick, you reached into your bag and gave me the captain’s star charts to feed to Vee. And that’s…. when I knew I had fallen… in love. With you.”

She pressed her face back into his chest after repeating her admission. Maj wasn’t great with feelings. He could feel the warmth radiating off of her through the fabric. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and thrilled at the feeling of her arms sliding around him. She could hear his heart pounding from where she had her head.

“You know I only stole from them because I thought they were pirates,” He said while he committed the moment to memory.

“Of course they were pirates, Ash. They were the only crew not looking for travel papers. Which we didn’t have. Still don’t have.”

“I can match your story,” he said, his voice full of warmth as he rested his chin on her head. “I realized I had fallen in love with you when we were still looking for information for that ship. We had tracked down a lead to some tavern, what was its name? The Exhausted Explorer? The Busty Mermaid? The Hung Man?”

They laughed and Maj pushed herself away from him enough to look at his face. She was still pink all over and was searching his face for any tells that he was just messing with her. She couldn’t find any. She didn’t look away from him this time.

“Whatever the name was, we found our guy and bought him dinner, and drink, and we’ve been talking to him real nice the whole time trying to butter him up. I’m not sure it’s working. In fact, I was pretty sure he was going to try to run off. And then you reach out and start playing with his hand, and I think, ‘oh shit, I can’t let her try to seduce this creep. That’s my job!’  

“But you’re the one holding his hand, and he and I are both so focused on that that neither one of us notices you pull his knife over to you. You lean forward like you’re about to kiss him and for a second, I think I’m gonna kill the guy if his mouth touches yours. Don’t get me wrong, I have never minded you kissing other people before or since then, but in that moment, he had to die.  

“At the last second, you said something badass like, ‘if we’re friends now, friends talk to each other. Now talk.’ And then you stab the knife though both of your hands! You don’t even flinch. Then you look over your shoulder at me and grin that mean, crooked grin of yours. And wink at me as the guy starts talking.”

“I still have that scar.” She moved her hand forward to look at it. He took her hand and kissed the scar.

“I know. I was too busy standing there with my mouth hanging open thinking about how hard I had fallen for you to even think about healing you.”

“Gods above and below,” Maj swore, mirth and exasperation in her voice, “We’ve been in love with each other this whole time? And didn’t say anything? How did we survive to adulthood?”

“Well, I guess it’s like you always say. I’m a lucky bastard and you’re a stubborn bitch. We’ll make it work together.”

[mandi-cakes]

Vampire Hunter D: Blood & Sacrifice

Chapter 3: TIME’S RUNNING OUT

Leaving Deana where she slept, the two hunters headed for the other end of the station. Sequestered from the office rooms, there were four separate holding cells, one of which held the unconscious Two-Finger. First D called out the man's name. When he didn't receive a response, he banged on the cell door. Even Devan called out, nearly shouting. Still the man didn't move. However, there was a slight perceived change. The human eye wouldn't have been able to catch it, but a dhampir's could. Either he was still unconscious, or Two-Finger was playing opossum. D reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a single caltrop. Positioning it in his hand between his forefinger and thumb, he fired it, the bit of shrapnel flying fast and hard.

Hit in the ribs, the bandit jolted off his cot, rolling onto the floor with a pained and startled scream. "What in the holy flyin' fuck!"

"Get your ass up," Devan said, giving the cell door another knock.

"What the hell for? I don't even know you!"

"No, but you do know someone else," Devan said with a glare. "The dhampir who lead the hunt you were apart of here in Hampstead. One among many sitting in a Capital jail cell for a crime you and your buddies committed."

Two-Finger shook his head in confusion. Crime? What crime? He left that town the instant he got paid, although he did hear his fellow hunters griping about the whole ordeal with the woman in charge. Sure they had spoken in anger about getting back at her, but he didn't think they were serious. What could they have possibly done?

"You touched in the head or something?" Devan was taken aback, "It's been broadcasted across multiple news outlets. Where've you been to not know?"

"Honestly?" Two-Finger scratched his head, "Every bar in this sector...boozin', whorin', gettin' high... I ain't seen or heard a news report in weeks."

"Two towns, Hampstead and Stonewall, hundreds of people murdered in a single night. Everyone's in an uproar about it."

The bandit's jaw dropped, "My god... You...you sayin' they actually did it?"

"Yes...and we need your help."

                                               ***

From what Two-Finger knew, his former compatriots were fond of patrolling this side of the outer Frontier looking for work. The same few sectors, back and forth. There was rarely a shortage of people looking for help to rid their towns of monster infestations. But, when there was such a shortage, these hunters would concoct a plan in secret to ensure a select town would have such a problem that only they could solve. In the beginning, Two-Finger was more than willing to participate. He had his vices, a lot of them, and they all required money. But eventually, it became too much. Perhaps the conscience he'd been dulling decided to evolve, because he'd been growing tired of making people suffer just so he could throw back some top shelf liquor and pay women to let him between their legs. Then they came upon Hampstead, just another town ready to be relieved of what little it had to offer. This was the final straw. Of course, the hunters wanted him to stay. Sober, Two-Finger was the best archer they'd ever come across. As such they were quick to reassure him that so long as they stuck to the plan, nobody would be killed. Round up some lessor dragons, set them on the town, wait a day and see what happens. They even made sure to pull out the dragons' fangs. However, they didn't expect the townspeople to hire another hunter who happened by, nor did they realize that the dragons could regrow their teeth so quickly. Nothing about this plan worked the way it should have, and in the end it was watching a child being mauled to death that made Two-Finger back out of the group. Once he got his pay, he was done with these men. However, that in and of itself begged the question: if the child's death bothered him that much, why didn't he leave sooner? Simply put, so he could give back a portion of the money that was being taken, enough to help the grieving family and give the child a decent burial. He entertained the idea of blackmailing the others into giving back all of the money, or he'd let slip the truth. Although, that would've only ended badly for him. Two-Finger was of questionable morals, but he wasn't stupid. As sorry as he felt for the child's death, nothing was going to change that, and he still had his own life to worry about. Better to leave while he had the chance, off to the nearest roadhouse to forget the whole incident ever happened. Cue his current situation, locked in a cell and being glared at by a couple of unnervingly pretty young men. Thanks to his side of the story, though, he was free of the impending ass kicking. And not only would they let him out of his cell, but he could also partake in the search for his murderous cohorts. Was there a chance for compensation? It was likely the officials back in the Capital would pay him for his efforts, according to the tall man in black. Money, and the chance to enact some needed redress. Where was the dotted line for him to sign?

As if the previous altercation with the two hunters never happened, Two-Finger jumped to his feet, "Let's get the bastards!"

Knowing their habits as well as he did, Two-Finger listed their targets' usual stops and hideouts. Typically the devious group of hunters roamed about this same area spending their recent earnings, much like he did, so they couldn't be too far away. This brought the list down to two possible locations - a cave set in the nearby mountain range, or an abandoned chateau. This peaked Deana's interest as she lounged with a hot cup of coffee, having been woken up after the bandit's release. Did he mean the chateau on the bluffs a few miles shy of the border to the inner Frontier? But that was a Noble's abode, chock full of defenses that would kill them upon approach regardless of whether or not it was abandoned. It was this fact that had kept her from adding it to her list of places to explore. But, for the hunters this was precisely the reason it was chosen as a hideout, once they circumvented the security and reconfigured it for their own purposes. The reasons aside, the last point of order came into focus. Who would go where? D and Two-Finger would take the mountain cave, while Devan and Deana went to the chateau. Under the cover of night, they left the sheriff station and headed away from the town.

Traveling the winding forest trails, D and Two-Finger rode on horseback; the bandit sitting behind the hunter as his damaged motorbike was ditched out in the wilds after he was taken in. For the past few miles, the man in black had been silent, barely acknowledging his presence. Where was all the vim and vigor he had during their first meeting?

"So, uh," Two-Finger said with a slight cough, "that dhampir lady hire you or somethin'? I ain't ever seen hunters goin' after other hunters before...and you and that other bloke seem pretty driven to find my ol' partners."

A moment or so passed, then D replied firmly, "She's my wife..."

"I see," the bandit's eyes went wide. "I guess I'd be doin' the same as you if it was me own wife. And your partner?"

"He's not necessarily my partner," D said succinctly, "He's my son."

"And the l'il bit? A cutie like that...rather dangerous to be bringin' her along."

"That's my daughter you're referring to," D's voice had a noticeable bite. "Touch her and you're dead."

"Alright, alright," Two-Finger replied, raising his arms up in defense. "Protective papa, I get it." "It's not me you should be worried about. Now be quiet, I can see the mountain base coming up."

Two-Finger nearly choked on his next set of words, "Well, aren't you a prickly pear..."

D pulled the reins of his horse, stopping by a thick set of trees. Once the steed was hidden from sight, the unlikely pair continued on foot. Some yards later the forest path came to a bend, and from there the base of the mountain came into view. Rocks and boulders of every size littered the ground, the formation of some the products of various landslides. If there be a cave here, like Two-Finger had said, they'd make excellent cover. Without the right knowledge or guidance, one might never find this cave. Thankfully D had such a guide, as well as his own tracking skills to rely on. Though the bandit lead the way, the young man's nose caught the faint smell of smoke, and his eyes the sight of tire treads in the soil even though they'd been hastily covered. Moving around a heavy boulder, the two men stopped. A light flickered nearby, and multiple voices could be heard. Some brought up the massacres, and the rest evidently found them funny, most notably the apprehension of their former huntress leader. D reached for his sword, ready to confront these hunters head on. However, Two-Finger stopped him.

"Oy, not so fast," the bandit whispered. "These guys are plenty crafty, and rarely let their guard down. Best we get the drop on 'em, yeah?"

D stepped back as Two-Finger adjusted his gear. The longbow at his back was set, along with the crossbow holstered at his hip, with plenty of ammo in their respective quivers. The bandit then double checked his limbs. His arms and legs were fine, the tumble from his bike banged him up some, but otherwise no worse for wear. His prosthetic limbs, however, garnered a closer view. His right arm, underneath the tattered sleeve and glove, was nothing but steel-encased cybernetics. On his left hand, chunks of his natural flesh were missing. The pinky, ring finger, and thumb were gone, leaving only the fore and middle. And like the other parts of his body, these missing parts had been reconfigured with cyberwear. After such losses, one might quit the life of a bandit. But Alexander "Xan" Hibble was never one to listen to reason. Easy money had always been his game, and he wanted to keep playing. Thus Two-Finger was born. However, with the present circumstances, he'd at least consider going straight - more or less. Hopefully their little plan worked. Two-Finger would engage the hunters, then when the time was right, D would come in for the take down. As D stood by, the bandit approached the cave opening, passing through the jumble of parked armored cars. There they sat, a dozen road worn brutes cackling at each other's jokes by a small bonfire. Then upon hearing a sudden intruder, they whipped out their weapons.

Two-Finger cracked a smile as he put his arms up, "Easy, mates, it's just l'il ol' me."

"What's in your head? Thinkin' you can just waltz back in here,  traitor ..."

"Eh, that's a fair cop, I'd say..."

"Too right. You bailed on us! And now it's lookin' like you want back in. Fuck off."

"Oy, oy...settle down, man. In my defense, you swore nothin' bad would happen. And how well did that turn out, eh? It may be as black as coal, but I still got a heart don't I? I needed a break is all."

This particular hunter stared at Two-Finger, his gaze narrowing steadily. Clearly he was scrutinizing every word.

"Look," Two-Finger cleared his throat, "Ollie - mate, I get it. But let me make it up to you. I heard about them towns, and figured that was your handy work since you lot were lookin' to get payback on that dhampir wench. But from what I hear, the police are still lookin' for the culprit. They're willin' to pay handsomely too. So I say, if they want a ruthless dhampir hunter to arrest, don't just give 'em any ol' hunter-"

"What're you drivin' at, Xan?" Ollie asked suspiciously.

"Bring 'em the most ruthless dhampir hunter of them all. You know, that D bloke. Betcha your Aunt Fanny they'd fork over gobs of money for him."

At this Ollie's brows rose in thought, as did the rest of the group as they lowered their weapons.

"Huh...you think so? Might be worth a shot." Ollie rubbed his chin, "You think he'd be an easy target?"

"I dunno, mate" Two-Finger replied, "Here, lemme ask him." Then the bandit, keeping his sights on the men, shouted over his shoulder, "Oy, D! You think you're an easy target?"

Before the men had a chance to move, a shadowed figure rushed in from the darkness. Black raiment fluttering in the flurry of his own wind, the imposing hunter stood with his gaze alight in a hellish glow, his long sword at the ready. Ollie looked to Two-Finger, who had his crossbow aimed point-blank toward him. It seemed the man's suspicions were on the mark.

"Traitor," Ollie spat.

"Maybe," Two-Finger ginned. "But I'm not the one who slaughtered whole towns and framed an innocent woman...one, who just so happens to be me man's lady. Oy, D, we bringin' them all in?"

"We only need one." D's voice dripped with venom as he raised his sword, the hunters in turn brandishing their arms again, "You want a fight? Then let's fight. Come at me."

Read more of this chapter here

[capn-charlie]

It’s out; the first one-shot of my Choni collection is posted on both AO3 and FF.net! Luckily, if you don’t feel like waiting another second longer, I’ve pasted it below the “read more” bar. Enjoy.

Development: My spin on Cheryl’s back-and-forth thought-process leading up to (and including) her movie-theater encounter with Toni ━ Taking place in 2x14.

What a sorry excuse for some weekday plans. The Bijou? Certainly not the most elegant, the most sleek. Hell, it’s not even a sane comparison to lounging in bed, watching Netflix by one’s lonesome for the remainder of the evening.

But here she is, entering the Bijou ━ or Riverdale’s highly acclaimed movie theater, foremost because it’s the only damn theater in this rough-edged town. It looks the same as it always had, walls popped with color adorned by lit-up frames of presently playing movies, while the remaining decor is less than… oh, right: elegant, sleek.

Cheryl rolls her eyes, wondering why this became one of her prime choices of escaping her mother’s sinful dances with strangers who certainly couldn’t care less about how slimy they come off. It says a great deal about the people from around here, that’s for sure, and even those not from around here. It undoubtedly says a little too much, Cheryl internally broods. To acknowledge that there are people in the world ━ some looking just as normal as every other standard member of society ━ heading out for the night in search of a mistress to counter their (probable) wives… it’s deafening.

She knows she can’t necessarily blame them, though. Well, Cheryl tilts her head to the side, she can blame them, but, fuck, what kind of mother subjects her daughter to that kind of hellish home? It’s not even a home anymore; it’s a goddamned prison filled with skeletons and bad blood coating the floors and the walls.

Those “elegant” walls.

She takes a deep breath; maybe being somewhere so spectrally distant from Thistlehouse will do her some good. Perhaps it’ll give her a breath of fresh air, or allow a little more thinking space as she steps out of such a toxicated environment with a parent who doesn’t even give a damn about what she gets herself into. She doesn’t give a damn about anything, does she?

“Miss,” a voice breaks Cheryl out of her thoughts, a slim, freckle-faced, young teenager working at the concession-stand staring at her with large eyes, “are you alright?”

Part of her wants to snap at him, to ask why everyone keeps poking and prodding at her like she’s a comatose opossum while wondering if she’s okay, but, against her better judgment ━ or her normal judgement ━ she decides to simply overrun his inquisition with a firm “I’ll take one of… those,” pointing to the cherry colas sitting in the back fridge.

Her request definitely sounded the least bit alright, and her point was probably the most vague nod he’s seen in his short time on Earth, but part of her doesn’t exactly care. Not after tonight. Not after she saw her mother with someone new. She partially wonders why it bothered her so much today, on the other hand, since it’s, unfortunately, becoming something that happens on a daily basis, but, at the same time… she knows why.

Ever since little-miss-Topaz decided to ever-so-pointedly shed light on how un-okay Cheryl’s grown… she can’t get the thought out of her mind, or shake her head, raise her chin like usual and claim, “I’m totally fine. Why? What’s your issue?” For hours, Cheryl’s tough, bitchy exterior has been crumbling piece by piece due to the slight insinuation that someone actually cares about how she’s feeling, and every ounce of her self-worth and sanity is latching onto the implication because, God, what the hell?

She clenches her jaw while looking down at the glass bottle being slid across the counter, silently debating if she’s angrier at a specific Southside Serpent for poking at her insecurities, or if she’s more pissed off at herself for being upset, in the first place. After all, the girl just wanted to help, and maybe━

“Let me guess… some cherry cola for Cheryl Bombshell.”

And, at the sound of Toni’s knowing voice, there goes all rational thinking.

“My God,” Cheryl pauses, adding an exasperated “what do you want?” followed by a dull “And why do you keep stalking me?” for good measure.

“I’m not,” the look Toni gives her is so pointed that Cheryl feels herself wanting to chuckle, the girl’s brown eyes widening in a way that’s both amusing and a tinge judgmental. “I came to see this movie with Fangs and he bailed on me.”

At the explanation, Cheryl can’t even stop herself from looking deflated, evidently losing her last-ditch attempt at shooing away the brunette. On the other hand, she senses a chilled wave of relief, acknowledging that maybe it’s a blessing in disguise that Toni, similarly, doesn’t have anyone to see a movie with. Perhaps Cheryl isn’t the only pathetic one.

Cheryl bites her inner cheek, looking around. Although she’s being studied by the girl in front of her, the same bit of relief continues to engulf her insides, Toni’s presence and soft eyes somehow distracting her enough to forget that she’s━

“Are you okay?”

Oh, fuck it.

Her mouth opens, at first, bound to say something in response to the question without the power to actually follow through; the words get stuck in her throat, creating a sort of halt in the way she presents herself to someone whom she hasn’t necessarily had a less-than-attitude-filled conversation with ━ ever. Shit, she’s probably only vented to someone three times in her life, and, each of those times, things ended up in the most non-ideal way.

Fuck it, she thinks again.

“I’m alone at the movies,” her voice is cautious, hardly looking at the brunette in front of her, “and I’m trying to stay away from my mother who has turned our house into her sexual play-pen.”

Toni’s lips part, clearly the root cause of Cheryl’s pain being deeper than her or anyone else could’ve imagined ━ not that many people would like to imagine what goes on within the walls of the red-head’s mind. To be frank, it’s always ground Toni’s gears knowing that everyone’s aware of Cheryl’s attitude but never found the heart to discover why she is the way she is ━ and not in the “it’s their fault she’s a bitch” kind of way; it’s a vicious cycle, no one caring to ask how another person is, or how they’re doing, or why they do what they do, but that’s the world we live in.

“So, no… I am really not,” until Cheryl’s final words come ━ a statement that’s definitive and sheerly genuine ━ Toni almost forgets where they are, but the girl’s confession certainly doesn’t go unnoticed.

On the other side of things, her own honesty is like a blow to the stomach, taking the wind out of Cheryl as her insides shake in anticipation waiting for Toni’s response. She feels her knees twitch, almost like her body screams at her to collapse or simply run away, just something to take the girl’s mind off of what she just heard. Whether or not Cheryl’s ultimate joy comes from the usage of the phrase and knowledge, “I’m Cheryl Blossom, A.K.A. Cheryl Bombshell”… unfortunately, that’s who she is, and it’s a hell of a big deal when someone so “holier-than-thou” spills their secret pain to someone ━ especially to a Southside Serpent.

“Well,” opposing Cheryl’s initial presumption, Toni’s attitude is calm, showing desire to actually help ━ and, internally, she’s caught off-guard, “I was gonna go grab a seat alone, unless you want some company… but no pressure.”

Her eyes light up, Toni catching it without putting the other girl on the spot. In Cheryl’s mind, a tinge of panic hits her chest, but it mainly comes in the form of a fluttering sensation as her muddy thoughts disperse for the time being. On the outside, in order to stop herself from looking like a total fool when her cheeks round from smiling at the concept of someone wanting to actually spend time with her, Cheryl delicately reaches for her drink and slowly sips on the beverage.

It doesn’t stop Toni from looking at her with a taste of admiration, however, and that’s enough to keep Cheryl’s smile from disappearing behind the straw of her drink. But, as seconds pass, Cheryl doesn’t mind smiling, and starts to grow accustomed to feeling less drowned and more… curious.