#kieran's horizon hours

[silverhands-slut]

I think RDR has spoiled me in the sense that the VAs are really just actors because they did the mocap work too. The Horizon facial anims just...throw me off for some reason and look kinda janky. However I understand not every studio has the kind of money or is as established as R* is. But some of it gives me uncanny valley vibes and I'm not sure how to feel about it. Still hardcore Alvad trash tho :P

[cyberdragoninfinity]

I would love to hear your thoughts about the fucked-up turtle (Terapagos)

"Now let's talk about the turtle. Can we talk about the turtle please, Mac? I've been dying to talk about the turtle with you all day."

Ok so. Short Answer Re: Thoughts About Terapagos:

WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK. WHY DID IT DO THAT. WHY DID THEY [GAMEFREAK] DO THAT.

Long Answer Re: Thoughts About Terapagos [SPOILERS FOR THE SCARVIO DLC naturally. i havent seen Horizons so i dont rly know whats goin on with this little guy in the anime, just what we've got in the games]:

When the last little batch of new Pokemon in Indigo Disk leaked, about 12 hours or so-ish before the DLC dropped, I was at dinner with my bestie and we were looking at our phones like we were reading breaking world news. And I was looking at this tiny ass png of Terapagos's full Tera (Stellar) form.

And I immediately blurted out "holy SHIT it's turtles all the way down."

If you're not familiar with the phrase, check out its wikipedia page; here it's most relevant as a saying thrown around with regards to the philosophical concept of infinite regress, i.e. a series of elements (or questions begging an explanation) that that goes on infinitely with each member producing the next. So let's say the world rests on the back of a giant turtle--well, then, what does that turtle stand on to keep it from falling into the void? Why, another, bigger turtle, of course! But what about that turtle? Well, you're not gonna believe this, but it's turtles all the way down.

And here's the other thing about infinite regress: it's a logical fallacy, it's circular reasoning--honestly it's a little bit of a cousin to the "which came first?" chicken and egg argument. The question in these cases never truly gets answered, it just goes on and on forever. Bigger turtles on top of even bigger turtles.

It's a paradox. :)

So Stellar Terapagos, just look at that thing. Even its dex entries talk about how it looks like a planet, how it resembles "the world as the ancients saw it"--it's very much not only trying to evoke the World Turtle concept, but the symbolism of a classic paradoxical saying. So we've already got that going on with it, that already makes me bonkers. AND THAT'S JUST THE SURFACE LEVEL.

Cuz when we look at how Terapagos behaves, things start to go from "well isnt this guy a little weird" to "oh. oh this thing is kind of fucked up and terrifying, hello, what the hell is wrong with it" REAL FAST. Its two most stressed features we see in Indigo Disk are A.) its crystalline nature and how its the progenitor of Terastalization, but also B.) it is ferociously powerful and borderline uncontrollable. It's violent. It bursts out of a Master Ball and almost kills Kieran for daring to try and control it. Heath's illustration of its Stellar form in the Scarlet/Violet Book looks so otherworldly and almost cosmically horrifying. It has Weird Fucking Powers the game does NOT elaborate on (but I will; see more below.)

And also, hey, yeah, its Stellar Form looks like a stack of world turtles, but why the FUCK does its Terastal form also look like a goddamn dream catcher.

Personally I've been a big fan of the 'imagination theory' re: the Professors and the Paradox Pokemon and Area Zero, and folks have been arguing that Indigo Disk debunks that, but honestly I feel like we're loitering around some untold explanation that's even more bizarre. Terapagos is at least on some level tied to dreams and existentialism, and I really feel like there's more to Tera Crystals and Terapagos's relationship with them than what we've been told. Hell, its cry is even the noise we hear all game when we Terastalize our Pokemon, which produces its own myriad of questions (Are the Crystals some degree of alive? The Tera Crowns all do have Terapago's little turtle head at their base, too--does Terapagos physically or spiritually connect with a Terastalizing Pokemon? And what about that weird crystalizing the AI Professor does during its big boss fight? MUCH TO THINK ABOUT.)

Oh, speaking of Crystals--yeah. I can't NOT talk about the Indigo Disk Crystal Pool Postgame Secret when talking about Terapagos. ONE MORE SPOILER WARNING FOR THAT--SERIOUSLY GO TO THE CRYSTAL POOL AFTER GETTING THE DLC CREDITS. IT WILL BLAST YOU TO BITS. anyway.

Yeah so that's what I mean with Why Did It [Terapagos] Do That. The fact that you dont even need to have it in your party for the postgame Crystal Pool cutscene to trigger and for Terapagos to just pop out of the PC boxes on its own accord and warp space and time (and maybe even reality itself) to irreversible consequence, implying once again some great and uncontrollable power within this beast. Crazy Ass Moments in Pokemon History for CERTAIN.

And the thing that makes me most insane, thinking about Terapagos twisting time to allow you to meet the Professor, the Real Live Professor, to swap notes with them so to speak, the way it facilitates all of that, is the position it now puts the player and Scarvio itself in. If the Professor's research rests on the back of a white book given to them by a child, then what does the research of that white book rest upon? Ah, well, the expedition of Area Zero spurred forth by the fallout of the Professor's research. And what did THAT research rest upon, again...?

Turtles. The whole way down. Chickens and eggs and a paradox you're now responsible for. At the hands of a Normal Type Pokemon that tried to kill a 14 year old.

Terapagos scares the shit out of me. I love it so much. Why Did They Make It Like That <3

[karespocketboyfriends]

𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙳𝚘𝚠𝚗

Sylus X Evie (OC)

Warnings -> Humour, mentions of murder, Sylus getting his ass slapped, gets the tiniest bit suggestive at the end, situationship dynamic

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

I’m going to die today.

I can picture my final resting place now; a six foot hole in the ground with fresh dirt on top, a bouquet of my favourite flowers and a tombstone that reads:

‘Here lies Evie. Dead because she was dared to slap the boss of Onychinus’ ass.’

If I had more time, I would have studied black magic to make sure Luke and Kieran go out with me. But I don’t have more time, not when the re-release of one of my favourite smutty books is on the horizon with an exclusive and very limited cover.

Clearly, I value books more than my own life.

“You’re quieter than usual tonight.”

I jump at the voice, head snapping towards Sylus sitting in the driver’s seat of his car. One of several cars he owns. He isn’t looking at me, scarlet eyes fixated on the road ahead as he drives at the N109 Zone’s speed limit. In other words, faster than Linkon’s law actually allows.

“It’s nothing.” I deflect his observation as casually as I can manage. I turn my eyes to look out the front window, not wanting to risk making eye contact with him should he happen to glance at me, but also not wanting to turn away completely and raise suspicion. “I stayed up later then I should have, that’s all.”

Working for Onychinus has completely warped my sleep schedule. My patterns used to be that of a normal person, awake during the day and asleep at night, but now I’m active beneath both the sun and moon. Instead of sleeping straight through one cycle phase, I’ve learned to split my rest in two. Sunrise and sunset are my resting hours now, with daylight my free time and overnight my work hours.

Sylus hums, and the sound vibrates in my gut. I love hate the way it feels. “Reading again?”

I did fit in more reading time where I should have been asleep, but that wasn’t the cause of my hesitation to start a conversation. “Am I that predictable?”

“Painfully so.” He turns onto the street that leads to the base. “I am, after all, aware of your particular taste in novels.”

My face burns hot, much so that I cross my arms and dig my nails into my skin. “That isn’t the only genre I read. I keep more tame stuff at home.”

He snickers. “I’m sure.”

Minutes later, we arrive. I follow half a step behind Sylus as we navigate the base, the both of us headed in the same direction. My office is in his personal wing, where it has been since I got hired a year and a half ago. To this day, I still haven’t been able to get a clear answer as to why he put me so close to him. On a professional level it makes sense, being his personal assistant and all, but given the nature of his work… it seems odd to place an absolute stranger right outside your door.

Though, I’m not exactly much of a threat. I doubt a man like Sylus sees much harm in a woman whose only weapon is a pencil with a pointy end.

“Take the rest of the night off.” Sylus breaks the silence as we turn down the hallway leading to his wing.

Stunned, I come to a stop. Sylus carries on without looking back, his footsteps alone echoing off the walls. He gets a several strides ahead before I’m jogging to catch up. “But, the notes from the meeting today need to be-”

He grabs the handle of the door that leads to his private quarters, and he finally turns his head to look down at me. Not in the sense that I’m below him, but literally has to look down. “If you’re too tired to interrupt my peace and quiet the way you normally do, then you’re useless tonight.”

I huff and cross my arms. “You make me sound like someone who never shuts up.”

One corner of his mouth curls up. “Are you not aware of how noisy you are, kitten? That’s an order.”

I clamp my mouth shut to keep any witty remarks inside. Sylus waits a moment, and when he’s satisfied that I won’t argue, turns the handle and pushes open the door.

That’s when I realize that if I don’t strike now, I’ll never have a chance to do so again. The boss’ guard is down, the hallway is empty, and several escape routes are available.

Should I go light? No, better to stun him and buy myself several seconds of precious time.

Sylus makes it half a stride through the door before my hand connects with his ass, the resounding slap like a grenade in the silence.

Then I’m flying back the way we came, fleeing for my life and the exclusive book cover I’m so desperate to get my hands on. “Sorry, Sir!”

I whip around the corner, going so fast I almost crash right into Luke and Kieran. They jump to the side, pressing their backs against opposite walls and clearing the way for me to get by.

Luke cackles beneath his crow mask. “Where’s the fire, Evie?”

“I better get a signed copy, you doorknobs!”

I’m racing around the next corner seconds before their howling laughter turns into strangled yelps. My heart sinks. He’s catching up, and he’s catching up fast.

I throw myself into the closest supply closet without thinking, barricading the door with a gun rack and ducking behind a shelf of random things that I make a mental note to sort through at some point in the future. Assuming I even live to see the future.

I throw my hands over my nose and mouth to muffle my breathing when footsteps draw near. I stare through a gap between the shelves, watching the light beneath the door. A prayer my grandmother used to recite comes to mind as footsteps drew near, two points of shadow obstructing the light.

The footsteps fall silent. Neither of the shadows move.

‘Please no, please no, please no, please no, please no.’

The shadows move and the footsteps start again, the sound becoming distant until they disappear completely.

Dropping my hands, I let out the quietest sigh of relief I can manage. I’m not brave enough to risk sneaking out now, not when Sylus is still on the prowl. I’ll stay hidden in here until sunrise if I have to.

Getting comfy on the floor, I fish my phone from my back pocket. The clock reads 11:48 PM.

‘I won.’

Three hours go by. Pain attacks my spine when I finally straighten myself out, fingers numb from holding my phone and battery percentage in the red zone. I started and finished an entire book on my reading app in the time I’ve been hiding here.

No one has passed by the closet since I first jumped in here. If it was Sylus who briefly stopped outside the door, he hasn’t come back yet. Either he was still lingering somewhere in the base, or he stepped out.

Waiting till sunrise to make an escape no longer feels doable. Not if I still want to have any kind of feeling in my body.

Tucking my phone away, I uncross my legs and bite back a cry at the pins and needles feeling that shoots up them. I mentally curse out Luke and Kieran as I grit my teeth through the attack. It feels like forever before the numbness finally fades and I can stand without feeling like my legs are going to give out from under me.

The stupid wheels on the gun rack screech obnoxiously as I push it aside. Then the hinges on the door shriek as I slowly crack the closet open. Both ends of the hallway are clear, and a quick glance at the ceiling doesn’t reveal any sign of Mephisto.

I’m clear. Hopefully. I get going before that changes.

I make it halfway down the hall when something drifting from the ceiling catches my attention. It’s a black feather, and it sets my internal alarm off and has me making another scan for the mechanical crow. I still don’t see him.

The feather floats down in front of me, and my curiosity wins. My hand seems to reach out all on its own to grab it. The second my fingers brush against the soft feather, it disintegrates into black and red mist.

‘Oh fu-’

My wrist is suddenly caught in an iron grip, a pair of crimson eyes narrow, tempting lips set in a firm line. I don’t even think to run.

Instead, I blink up at him. “Hello, Sir.”

“Evie.” My name is flat on his tongue.

“About earlier,” I put on the most innocent smile in my arsenal. “It was Luke and Kieran’s idea. Punish them, not me.”

“Oh, they’ve already received what they’re owed.” He pulls my wrist until I bump into his chest. “Now, what do you think you’re owed for that little surprise?”

“Forgiveness?” Noticing the thin chain on his collar was undone, I fix it for him. “You know, Sir, I think it would be good for you to practice leaving yesterday’s grudges in the past. A handsome face like yours should eliminate as many causes of stress as possible to prevent faster aging.”

He raises a brow, not at all looking convinced. “Is that how it works?”

I nod. “There has been research done. If you let me live, I can have a full report on your desk by tomorrow night.”

Sylus hums as if considering it. Then, miraculously, he lets me go. “Leave yesterday’s grudges in the past, is it? Perhaps you’re right.” He turns to the side and lifts an arm as if to say ‘go ahead’. “Enjoy the rest of your night off, Evie.”

‘I’m so dead.’

I don’t turn my back to him. In fact, I walk backwards while holding eye contact with him, the amused smile on his face a mask for something more lethal. It’s only when I’m forced to turn a corner that I let him out of my sight.

My steps and quick and paranoid, the base seeming to stretch on endlessly before I finally make it to the exit. Then I actually make it outside, the full moon and cool air welcoming me in celebration of my survival.

“Huh.” I cross my arms and pinch my chin between my thumb and index finger. “I can’t believe I actually got away with-”

Something slaps against my ass with a swift, sharp strike. I jump in surprise, a startled yelp forcing itself free from my throat. Eyes wide, I whirl around to find Sylus smirking down at me with one hand casually tucked in his pocket, the other hanging at his side.

“Sir!” I exclaim, rubbing the spot he hit. It was tingling, though I can’t say if it’s from the slap or the knowledge that it was him who touched me. “What happened to leaving yesterday’s grudges in the past?!”

“You’re so naive, kitten. For a man who is more active at night, ‘yesterday’ is still today.” He closes the distance between us and leans down until his lips are at my ear. “Pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll bind your wrists until you’re begging me to set you free. Do you understand?”

My breath hitches. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He nips my earlobe before pulling away. “The driver will take you home.”

Even after he disappears back inside, I’m still staring at the door, my heart hammering and cheeks burning. Is a book cover really worth what I put myself through tonight?

My phone buzzed with a message. It’s from Kieran, showing proof that they held up their end of the bargain. Not only did they get their hands on the exclusive cover, but they got it signed.

‘Totally worth it.’

SFW Masterlist

Tag List:

@softlycandescent @goat-mama-breezie

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.13

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - The Blackwoods and the Brackens march to Riverrun

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, feelings of shame, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2k

It’s time for everyone to start reaping and the show is going to be spectacular.

The march to Riverrun was muddy. Because of it they were slow, often getting stuck in the thick sludge. Martyn was not surprised it was a disaster. Everything in his life was a disaster now. Royce grew more radicalized against their sister by the hour and had spent all of his time before the trial trying to poison their brothers against her. Martyn had worked tirelessly behind them on a campaign to champion their sisters' better points. The atmosphere in Stone Hedge as a result was unbearable and for once Martyn was glad to be on guard duty. It gave him a chance to escape the muttering and stolen glances cast his way.

He rode in the front guard, bow on his back. His eyes constantly scan the way ahead of them. He’d already ridden ahead and confirmed the area clear. It would be best if they didn’t encounter the Blackwoods before Riverrun. It would become a fight most assuredly and Martyn wasn’t eager to die in the mud. Luckily though, they would not have to camp outside another night. Soon they would arrive at Riverrun and enjoy a good night's sleep before attending the trial. That was what he told himself anyway.

Thinking of the trial made him want to pitch himself into the Red Fork. He knew it would be terrible no matter the outcome. He thought of the masses of lords and ladies that would witness the trial. It would be so massively embarrassing he knew. That was likely Lord Elmo Tully’s plan. They had worn out their goodwill and now they would suffer publicly for it. He wondered what Shanda was feeling right now. Was she wracked with guilt? Was she homesick? Were they treating her well? He wanted to write to her but there was no guarantee they would give her the letters. And undoubtedly they’d be read and censored. He hadn’t been away from his sister this long maybe ever.

At last he could see the walls of Riverrun rising in the distance and he sent thanks to the gods for a safe passage. The journey had been muddy and long but they’d made it in good time and without encountering any real danger. Besides a broken wheel or two the trip had been uneventful. It felt good to be on horseback if nothing else. That’s where Martyn belonged, bow equipped and his eyes alight with the light of the horizon. If he were a commoner with no responsibilities he’d just ride always with the wind at his back. He’d live somewhere off in the mountains. Where he could swim in a stream and watch the moon rise.

Instead he pulled his horse up short and dismounted. Preparing to enter the castle, he glanced around taking in the sights. It seemed Lord Tully had decided to keep the land around the castle flooded, and the levies open forcing them all to take boats across into the castle. It made the trip more inconvenient and told Martyn they didn’t want anymore coming or going lightly. He desperately wished to see his sister so he would suffer through whatever to get there.

***

Shanda had insisted on riding her own horse to Riverrun and had promptly refused the litter suggested. She couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting in there with the muggy air pressing in on her. It also gave her something to do with her hands that wasn’t ripping all the skin off of her fingers. She was equally excited and sick with dread at the thought of seeing her family. She couldn’t wait to see Martyn. But she was concerned about the outcome of the trial and afraid her brother would figure out she’d been passionately kissing the enemy.

The wretched agonizing man who had put her in this situation rode beside her. He looked rather dashing on his horse so she had not looked at him the entire trip. He would occasionally point out birds to her or he would tell her about the various riverland plants as they passed by. She said nothing but was glad to have some form of entertainment. But it didn’t help her problem of ignoring him when he was so charming all the time. That and she could still feel his hands wrapped around her, the feel of his lips pressed against hers. It was rather distracting and counterproductive for fostering hatred. Which was what she was supposed to be feeling for the heir.

She thought of him sneaking into her tent to kiss her goodnight. The way his hands had held her so softly. How could hands so bloody be so gentle? He was a brute there was no doubt about that. Everything about him was inappropriate, he shouldn’t have thrown her to the ground once he figured out she was a lady on their first encounter. Any respectable man would’ve just let her go. But he was not a respectable man and no Blackwoods ever really were. They were notorious raiders, wife stealers, a shroud of death over the riverlands. And yet he was kind and witty. He was thoughtful and no one could argue he didn’t work towards his goals vigorously.

It made her insides roll in discomfort. How was she supposed to reconcile herself to the two sides? Not that it mattered where her head was on it. It would be on the Lord in Riverrun to sort it out for her. That was equally as conflicting to her. On one hand, someone else would do it. But on the other hand that lord was likely Elmo Tully and he was an odd fellow who was very much sick of the squabbling river lords.

Shanda groaned when she saw the moat filled in on all sides surrounding the castle. That horrible devious man. She thought of the lord Tully. He meant for them all to have to ask permission to leave the place. It did not bode well in her mind then to the outcome the lord was thinking of. It said, ‘you will listen because you cannot leave’. And she was really growing tired of being held hostage.

***

To everyone’s displeasure the two houses seemed to arrive one after the other. The Blackwoods met the waiting Brackens in the great hall. Shanda saw no lord waiting there to direct them and she found that most odd. The servant that led them in had disappeared just as quickly as she came. She scanned the crowd of her family looking to spot her brother. When she did, she cried out without thinking.

Martyn heard her, his head whipping around to look at her. She felt tears come unbidden to her eyes seeing him. He looked defeated in a bad way and she began to worry about what her father was plotting. Her eyes darted to her father and she found his face was stone. No expression played across it as he stared blankly at nothing.

Martyn then moved to cross the room to her. Her family watched him go doing nothing. But a dozen Blackwood men unsheathed their swords at his approach. Benjicot called out to them instead.

“No need for that. I’ve seen this one's skills with a sword.”

Martyn approached further anyway. Shanda then moved to meet her brother but Benjicot stepped in front of her, blocking her path. She did not like that. She pushed him out of her way trying again, but this time he held fast to her arm. Then he jerked her behind him.

“Take your bloody hands off my sister.” Martyn said with such a venom it shook Shanda.

Benjicot replied as playful as ever, “Why? Would you rather me put them on you instead ser?”

Shouts began to rise up from both sides and swords were drawn again by all except the heir to Raventree. Who just stood there all but laughing at the sight of impending battle around him. Shanda was busy trying to pry his hand off of her but it was impossible. She was moments away from starting to kick the man until he let go when a booming voice rang out over the room.

“Aye you fucking idiot cunts! Simmer down will you? By the gods you’d think you would be tired eh? But it seems neither heat nor weariness will stop a bunch of bloody mongrels from bearing their teeth.” Lord Elmo Tully strode in. His red hair stood out immediately, his auburn beard was full and dotted with braids. A strapping man of thirty five.

The room fell silent as he entered. Shanda already felt scolded by the man. She wished for the hundredth time that Benjicot had dropped this entire ordeal. They were all doomed and too stupid to see it.

“Now, we’re going to have a nice dinner and then you’re all going to bed. The trial will start in the morning after breakfast. You will not start any fights before, during or after the trial. If you do, you will be jailed. I mean to put an end to this manner this time. So prepare your arguments well and get ready to present them. We will do this thing until the bitter end to get it settled. I don’t care how long it takes. And for fucks sake let the kids talk to each other.”

The two sides all blinked at each other, confused on how to proceed. Until they all bumped into each other taking seats at the tables and waiting to be served. Martyn wasted no time in coming over to meet her. She glared at Benjicot when he stepped closer to her.

“You heard Lord Tully. Step aside, I’ll be back.” And surprisingly the man listened.

Martyn and Shanda met in a bone breaking embrace in the middle of the room before quickly moving away into a corner to speak privately.

“Martyn, you must tell me your strategy. I don’t know what the insane heir has planned but I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

Without missing a beat he responded. “They want to pose you as a stupid mindless woman, corrupted by Bloody Ben.”

That was unsurprising but what he said next was.

“Someone tried to set Stone Hedge on fire and Royce swears it was you. That he saw you climbing back over the Red Fork to be with the heir.”

Her eyes bulged out of her head. That was what had happened at Stone Hedge? And they wanted to frame her for it?

“That explains why he looked so upset when I saw him.” She said, shaking her head. “I was trying to escape that night. Benjicot said he would let me go if I made it across the river.” But he hadn’t chased her and he had been slow to arrive. Had he set the whole thing up?

Martyn nodded, looking unsurprised. “That’s what I was trying to tell them. There’s no way you would help that monster.”

Shanda’s blood froze at his words and she tried to stop the panic she felt rising inside her from showing on her face. Had Benjicot set her home on fire, potentially killing her own people? And she’d been sitting in his lap kissing him while her family suffered. She felt as if her body were slick, covered in the blood of his hands.

“Martyn, whatever happens here, I’m sorry for dragging you into this. If I hadn’t bribed you to let me out none of this would’ve happened.”

But her brother protested vehemently. “If we valued women the way we should, you wouldn’t have had to sneak out. Your voice would hold as much weight as mine own. Or more given you’ve got the better head on your shoulders.”

The shame that welled up inside of her at her brother's praise was enough to drown her. She didn’t have a better head on her shoulders. She was weak. Everything she touched turned to ruin and now she would pay for it.

“Hey, don't look so upset sister. We’re going to get through this.” His laid a hand on her shoulder and unable to look at him any more, she pulled him into a hug.

“I love you, Martyn. Please remember that.”

And then she left him to go and sit on the opposite side of the room. Away from everyone and everything she had ever known, away from her own flesh and blood. She felt Benjicot’s eyes on her the whole way there and she sat with Alysanne a table away from him. She couldn’t bear to meet his stare either.

[persephonyed]

starter for @canthelps​ !

      it was early, sun still peeking over the horizon, but aylin had been awake for hours at this point. just as she was letting her shoulders untense over a cup of herbal tea, she noticed a familiar face in the window that brought a sudden grin to her face. “kieran!” she shouted towards the still locked glass door, rushing to open it and greet him. “anything exciting in that stack of mail for me today?”

[its-a-pandamonium-in-my-brain]

The Storm

so, a while back, i had to write some short stories for school. which obvi i wrote about my ocs. so anyway, here's the first one. (i have no idea how much of this is canon still but i thought id share it anyways :))

Warnings: Violence and Non-explicit references to past child abuse

“Up! Up! Up!” As usual, Lafayette stood in the doorway of the crew’s quarters, banging pots and pans together.

I groaned and sat up. I’d only been on The Guardian Angel for a month, and I already knew that the second Enia’s rays of light breached the dark blue of the night sky, the crew was supposed to be waking and readying themself for another day at sea.

“Ayra, Tytham wants to see you in the kitchen.” This was also a regular occurrence. I wasn’t supposed to be on this ship, but Captain Jalana was nice enough to agree that I could stay as long as I carried my own weight. Which, according to the first mate, meant I had to be up at dawn and help cook the day’s meals.

I watched as the rest of the crew got up off their bunks and get to work, counting each person as they went—Kieran, Tsarra, Liyana, Gilvyre, Bryce—and then I felt hands grab my ankles and pull me off the top hammock.

“Hello Ayra! Just wanted to make sure you’re awake!”

“Malo, leave Ayra alone and get onto the quarter-deck!”

Malo pats my knee, jumps up, and turns to walk to the door, “Goodness gracious, Lafayette, don’t you ever have fun?” He flicked Lafayette’s forehead.

“Can’t you ever do what you’re told?”

“Nope!”

Rolling their eyes and handing me the pans, Lafayette said, “Ayra, get going. I want to have breakfast in an hour.”

In the corner of my eye, I watched as Malo mocked Lafayette, then wink at me.

“Yes, Lafayette.” They nodded at me, then they turned and walked away.

I grabbed my viola case and my boots in one hand, and the two pans in the other as I made my way to the kitchen.

-+-

In the kitchen, Tytham and I worked together to prepare breakfast. Sibas, the tall half-orc, stopped in to pick up some bread and to update Tytham.

“How was your watch last night, Sibas?”

“Well enough. Saw some storm clouds on the eastern horizon. They’ll probably be on us tonight.”

“Wait. We have to sail through the storm?” That made me nervous. I was still finding my “sea-legs,” as Malo called them, and I often got sea-sick.

“What else are we going to do, Ayra? Wait like sitting ducks ‘till it’s over?”

“Well, no, but-”

“You’ll be okay, kid. You can stay in the crew’s quarters when the storm hits.” It felt strange that this 40-something year-olf half-orc was calling me “kid,” but I suppose in his eyes, I am. Elves reach adulthood around when they turn 100, and I was 88 years old.

“He’s right. I doubt Captain Jalana would want someone new to sailing on the main deck during a storm.”

I nodded but still unsure. Either way, the conversation moved onto a different topic, leaving me behind, lost in my thoughts.

-+-

Around 10 in the morning, Captain Jalana pulled me aside in her office.

“Ayra, I am sure you have heard the news by now.”

I laughed nervously, “What, that I am going to brave my first storm on the sea?”

She narrowed her eyes at me, “Yes, well, that’s part of it,” Captain Jalana took a key out of her pocket and unlocked a drawer, pulling a smooth, clay- colored pebble out from it. She placed it on the desk, where the side facing me had a glyph painted on it with white paint. “What do you think this is, Ayra?”

I picked up the stone and ran a finger along the glyph, “It’s a sending stone, Captain.”

“Good. I have heard news from the Lucent Throne,” My mother, Anitua Amastacia, holds the Lucent Throne and is one of the most influential people in the country of Sirion. If Captain Jalana had contact with her, I was sure that this boat would have turned right around and returned me to that awful woman. “Her child, Akira Ayra Amastacia, has run away from home. Do you know this person, Ayra?”

“Haven’t a clue, ma’am,” I stuttered. My eyes darted to the window behind Jalana. I thought I could probably get there and jump away, or I could run across the ship away from her.

Jalana sighed, “Ayra, I wanted you to know, that if you do know anything about this Akira person, I won’t pass along the information. I’ve heard stories of Lucent Amastacia, and none of them good ones. You are safe, Ayra. Both the crew and I trust you. We won’t send you back. Nor would they be mad at you for lying about who you really are.”

I looked up at the Captain, eyes wide. “Uh, thank you, Captain.” She nodded and put the sending stone back in the drawer.

“Your thanks is not needed, Akira, if that is what you wish to be called. That woman shouldn’t be a mother. Now, the winds have gotten stronger since Sibas was on watch. The storm will probably hit us around noon now. Unless you wish it, you can stay below decks until the storm has passed.”

“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it.”

-+-

It was hard to tell, at first, whether I was dreaming, it was just the storm, or the ship was being attacked. I was hiding in my hammock, writing lyrics to How the World Began, a song for tutors to teach students about how Everania came to be, when I heard the faint sounds of metal against metal.

Startled, I sat up straighter and put down my notebook. “Hello?”

No response. I settled back down into my hammock when I heard a loud, inhuman screech.

“Hello? What’s going on up there?” I yelled as I fumbled to get out of the hammock. I doubted anyone could hear me, let alone responded, so even though it terrified me to do so, I stood up on shaky legs and made my way to the deck.

As I got closer, I could hear Malo, Jalana, Lafayette; I could hear the crew screaming out to each other. Some were in pain, others were orders, and others were pleas for help.

Just as I reached the door, Lafayette shoved it open.

“Can you fight?”“Uh, yes? Kind of?” But before I could finish speaking, Lafayette pulled me out into the rain.

“Then fight, unless you want us to sink,” and they ran down towards the gun deck.

-+-

Immediately, my eyes were drawn to two large claws off the starboard side. They were a sickly green color, with barnacles stuck to them. Clasped in one claw, was Malo, blood dripping down his forehead.

Drawing my eyes away from the monster, I ran to hide behind one of the pillars that supported the upper deck, running through the list of spells that I knew. I didn’t know any spells that could harm, and no way did I want to get up close and personal to that thing to attack it with my swords.

My swords! I left them down with my backpack. Fortunately, I put my boots on, so I do have my dagger…

I heard the boom of the cannons firing and that terrifying screech of the monster, watching in horror as it let go of Malo and he fell into the water.

I ran over to the starboard railing and lifted my viola to my chin, playing a couple of notes. The monster started to glow slightly with a dark red light. I turned my attention to the shifting waters below me, searching for Malo.

There, far off to the left, Malo was swimming towards the ladder. He was having trouble with the waves crashing against the ship, the giant monster, and from the gash in his forehead.

I glanced around, looking for rope when Captain Jalana came up behind me.

“Akira, here. We need to pull Malo back onto the ship before the chuul’s head breaches the surface,” I nodded, and together, we managed to pull Malo out.

“Wow, thankth Ayra, I didn’t know you were tho thtrong,” Malo slurred, trying to pat my forearm, but ended up patting the ship’s railing.

“Tytham! Malo needs healing!” Jalana yelled out as she helped me drag Malo far away from the edges.

“Oh, I can help with that,” I hummed gently, and Malo’s injuries heal a bit. Captain Jalana gave me a look of thanks and ran off to continue helping the rest of the crew.

After that, it was a blur. With the adrenaline pumping, I moved faster than I had ever moved before, helping Tytham heal the crew’s injuries. When we were out of spells, Tytham handed me some of his supplies from his medicine kit, and we continued.

It felt like days, running back and forth across the ship, staying out of the way of the chuul’s giant green claws. The worst part was when the head finally emerged. Its head was a slightly darker green than its claws, with massive, red tentacles that spilled out of its mouth that would paralyze anything it touched.

As I was quickly bandaging up one of Taulath’s injuries, the chuul managed to grab Captain Jalana in its claws.

Taulath, who was watching the chuul as I bandaged him up, tensed. “No!” He wrestled to get away from me, and me being much weaker than him, succeeded. He rushed to get to the claw that held Jalana, but it was too late; it lifted and grasped onto her with its tentacles. Everyone, including Malo who was delirious, rushed toward the chuul and attacked. Even the gunners, who couldn’t see what was happening, seemed to fire with a higher frequency. Together, we finished off the chuul.

Lafayette, who I thought I would never see willingly in the sea, jumped straight in when they realized that Jalana was still stuck in that monster’s mouth.

With the captain incapacitated, Lafayette took control, bringing us out of the storm in record time. They ordered anyone who had the spell, to take turns casting Control Water to help speed us along, and Tytham and I to work as quickly as possible to return Jalana to consciousness.

Around sunset, the poison that caused the paralysis on Captain Jalana wore off just as we managed to leave the storm.

Tytham and I spent most of our time in the battle with the chuul and healing the captain, so we couldn’t have made dinner. Fortunately, we still had lots of hardtack that we could hand out to the crew.

After dinner, it was Arenna’s turn for the night watch, so they climbed up the mast to the crow’s nest. The rest of us went back down to the crew’s quarters and went to bed.

[i-want-to-be-manhandled]

im sorry but raymond from animal crossing looks like he did model un and debate team in high school just so he'd have somewhere for people to listen to him play devil's advocate for everything and became a very closeted econ major with "no fats no fems" and/or "masc 4 masc" in his faceless grindr profile

[calamitouscynic]

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

im job hunting and so is my sister, yaaaaayyyyy

[ttuesday]

Alright, what Video games would the modern VDL gang have as their favorites?

ah hello my dear anon, I see you're back again *gives you a slice of bread* welcome

Arthur

Arthur likes video games that have a good storyline. He needs something he can sink his teeth into and get emotionally invested in.

He wasn’t sure whether he was going to like Telltale’s The Walking Dead game at first but after playing for a few hours he was absolutely obsessed with it

The game makes him cry a lot especially the ending of season 1

Dutch

Dutch is a simple man, if he sees a survival game that has a tall, dominating vampire lady in it then he needs to play it.

He hasn’t played any of the other Resident Evil games but he knew he just had to play RE Village.

After finishing the game, he bought himself some circular sunglasses cause he wants to look like Heisenberg.

Charles

Charles plays video games to relax and get away from the stress of life with the gang.

He has always wanted to play the guitar but he’s never had the time to learn the instrument. But that’s what makes the absolute classic game Guitar Hero so good.

Charles becomes a pro at Guitar Hero, buying all the different guitar variations and the drums set you can get for it too.

Hosea

There’s no point trying to build anticipation for what game Hosea loves the most, it’s Candy Crush

Karen

At first, Karen loved GTA V for it’s great story and amazing characters but then she found out it has an online mode.

There’s no easy way to say this but Karen’s that player that will chase you around the map and kill you for literally no reason.

She loves it when people get really angry after she kills them, it’s something she likes to laugh about later.

John

John plays a lot of those racing games like Forza Horizon.

He likes them cause he doesn’t have to pay too much attention to what’s happening, all he has to do is drive the car.

Karen tried to get him to do a race in gta online but she kept crashing into him. After that John swore never to play gta online again.

Sean

Sean’s the kinda guy to play the same video game for MONTHS to the point where people wonder if he‘ll ever play another game or just this one forever.

Man loves Skate 3, he could play it all goddamn day and not get bored

Seriously, the amount of joy he gets out of this game is actually kinda adorable

Javier

Javier is that guy that has an entire city built in Minecraft.

He’s an expert at the game, even on hardcore mode!!!!

He also co-owns a very successful survival server with Lenny, though Javier does most of the work on it.

Pearson

there is only one right answer to this and that’s Cooking Mama

Mary-Beth

we all know Mary-Beth is an Animal Crossing fan

she even has a plush of Tom Nook 

Bill

Bill has played The Last of Us too many times to count. 

Now whenever he gets drunk he just rambles about how amazing the game is, how he loves Joel with all his heart and about how cool the different types of zombies are

...he hasn’t played the second game yet

Kieran

Are you ready to get mad? No? Ok, quickly prepare yourself to get mad. Kieran’s favourite video game is... Fortnite. HA

For his birthday, everyone buys him Fortnite lunchboxes and pencil cases lol

Lenny 

Lenny adores the Assassin’s Creed franchise, he can be a real history nerd sometimes so he loves finding all the little historical details.

But please don’t ask him what his favourite Assassin’s Creed game is. Arthur asked him once and Lenny made diagrams and charts to map out the pros and cons of each game and he still hasn’t picked which one is his favourite.

Abigail 

Her and Jack like to take turns playing Subway Surfers.

It’s what she plays whenever she gets some time to herself.

Molly

Molly loves singing as loud as she can on Singstar

She also got the dlc for it so she can sing while Charles plays guitar

Susan

Tetris... yup...

Micah 

Micah is the biggest Call of Duty fan out there.

He’s played the campaign of every game and he’s a pro at online.

And yes, he’s that guy that will sneak up and knife you in online instead of just shooting you.

Tilly 

Tilly could make a 2 hour presentation on why she loves Detroit: Become Human so much 

She makes everyone play the first mission and then judges everyone based on the choices they make

The game also makes her become very aware of the little choices she makes in everyday life

Trelawny

Trelawny thinks sending people emojis is a game

No one has told him that emojis aren’t a game because of how much fun he has with it

He sends people the most bizarre emojis all the time now 

[my-funky-little-cowboy]

I know this is a little late, but @mesangelique​ I was your back-up secret santa for @rdr-secret-santa​! You wanted a cute Kieran x reader piece, and I really hope I delivered 💚💚

Relationship: Kieran Duffy x f!reader Characters: Tilly Jackson, Kieran Duffy, f!reader Warnings: none Themes: fluff, pining Words: 1,792 [ ko-fi] || [ ao3 ]

“Kieran? You ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of about talkin’ to him. He’s as harmless as they come!” Tilly chuckled and a rush of embarrassment washed over you. 

“I know, he’s just about the sweetest man there is. I just, I just don’t know what we would talk about! We ain’t got nothin’ in common.” You said, defeatedly.

“You know anything about horses? Because, next to Arthur, I ain’t ever met anyone who loves horses that much.” Tilly replied.

“I can’t say I do.”

“Well, there you go! You want to spend more time with him, have him teach you about horses!” She put her hands on her hips. “Do something! You’re driving us ladies wild by moping around because he won’t give you the time’a day. He’s as timid as a field mouse, you think he is gonna try anything with the boys around?”

Tilly was right, Kieran kept mostly to himself, especially around the women, though he was always pleasant enough. The gang had started to warm up to him in the last six months, but he still spent a lot of his time alone with the horses. 

“You’re probably right.” You said, standing up.

“Of course I am.” Tilly smiled smugly. “Now go talk to him, I think he was cleaning one of the saddles last I saw him.” She said nudging you gently with her hip before going to finish her chores.

Right. Tilly’s right, just go talk to him. You’ve talked to him before,  no problem!

You made your way over to where the horses were grazing, nervously watching them. You didn’t know much about horses, that was true, but they also made you kind of anxious. Such a big animal, all that power, they could kill you so easily. Maggie raised her head as you passed, making you take a step to the side. 

“Oh, hey there miss! Need somethin’?” Kieran’s voice was warm as he rounded the wagon, his hands full with some fresh water for the horses.

“Just, uh just wanted to come look at the horses.”  

Kieran poured the water into the tin bath, and turned back toward you, a smile plastered on his face.

“You like horses?”

“Well, I actually don’t know too much about horses. They kind of scare me.” You rubbed your arm nervously.

“Scared of ‘em? How can you be scared of somethin’ so sweet?” He walked past you to Maggie, running his hand along her flank and she lazily raised her head. “Maggie here? Gentle as a kitten, c’mere, I’ll show ya!”

He waved his hand for you to join him and you took a cautious step forward. 

“C’mon now, she won’t bite, will ya Maggie?” He took her face in his hands and gave her a scratch under the chin. 

You inched your way up behind him. A stupid grin spread across your face as you watched him gently kiss Maggie’s nose. He reached back for your hand and you felt your ears get hot as his fingers laced between yours.

He pulled you in front of him, bringing your hands up to brush lightly along Maggie’s neck. Her coat was smooth against your hand and you felt her lean into your touch.

“See? No more than a kitten.”  He said in your ear. “Horses can read your energy. Did you know that? The more relaxed you are, the more relaxed they are.” 

He released your hand, taking a step back and you exhaled, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“How can they tell?” Maggie turned her head to look at them as Kieran backed up, flicking her ears, annoyed that the attention had stopped.

“Don’t really know, might be because of how we have worked with horses for a long time.”  He shrugged.

You watched as he picked up a brush and moved farther into the herd. Kieran gestured for you to follow him and you moved reluctantly into the herd. “C’mon miss, you gotta meet them all!” 

He stopped in the middle of the herd and a few of them moved toward him, vying for his attention. Ennis spotted you and pushed his nose into your arm, pulling gently on your sleeve.

“No, no, uhhh...”

Kieran looked up as the horse really began to tug. “Ennis! No, leave her alone. Shoo! Shoo!” 

Ennis snorted and walked away, flicking his tail in agitation. Kieran apologized profusely, promising he just wanted a treat. He pulled you closer to the middle him near the center of the herd. 

He spent the next half an hour telling you about each of the horses and how they all had their own personalities. Showing you how to brush them, and how each has its own preferred brushing. You were in awe, watching him, he cared so much for them and he was so sweet to them. He turned back, offering you the brush.

“Now you try, miss!” His smile was bright as you took the brush from him, his cheeks tinged with pink as your hands met and he turned quickly, calling Branwen over. “Branwen’s my horse.” He cleared his throat and muttered. “But I’m sure you knew that…”

You brushed out Branwen the way he showed you. He watched you for a few minutes before disappearing to return to his chores. Branwen watched you, her gentle eyes following your movements, she nuzzled you as you neared her face, closing her eyes as you took her face in your hands, gently petting her as Kieran had shown you. Maybe horses weren’t as scary as you thought, in fact, you found that you actually kind of liked them. The horse leaned into you as you finished and Kieran chuckled.

“I think she likes you.” He said, placing a bale of hay down and pulling a knife from his belt, making quick work of the bindings. “Here, give her some hay, then she’ll love you.” He pulled some hay from the bale and held it out for you.

You took the hay, offering it to Branwen who whinnied happily, taking the hay from your hand. A smile pulled at your lips. They definitely weren’t scary, giving her a gentle scratch on face.

“Thanks.” You said as Kieran joined you, his hand full of hay as he led Branwen to graze with the others. “For letting me help you today.” 

“Oh! Ain’t nothin’, really!” He clapped the dust from his hands. “So, ya still scared of ‘em?”  Taking the brush from you.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head. “I should, uh, I should get back to my chores. It was real nice talkin’ to ya.” Kieran’s face turned bright red, and he mumbled that he enjoyed it too.

                                                        -- ♞ --

It had been about six months since the boys had brought him back to camp, and it had been nearly another month before they let him off that tree. Some of the women had snuck him a bit of food and water here and there, but even then, most of them steered clear, leaving the job to you.

Despite everything he had been so polite, when he was awake. Dutch had warned everyone not to feed him or give him water, but watching him, day after day, had been too cruel. 

It started with sneaking him a drink of water, late one night, after most of the rest of the camp was asleep. Just a small sip, too scared to get caught. He had whispered his thanks through chapped lips, a small smile cracking them further.

Then again when you saw him around camp, tending to the horses, doing the chores no one else would. Still the group kept him at arm’s reach, only Arthur would talk to him, threaten him. He smiled through it, wished everyone a pleasant day, thankful to be alive.

Slowly the gang began to accept him and you spoke more, in passing. Polite niceties around the fire, greetings over coffee, but still he kept mostly to himself. It was endearing, he could have left, found someplace where people would have accepted him, but he stayed, wanting to belong. 

You remember the night that you realized your feelings for him, the night he said he stayed here, because despite everything, the gang had been nicer to him than Colm ever was. It had been late. Everyone had been drinking, celebrating a successful score, and you were sitting at the fire. Only a couple remained: Kieran, Uncle, Reverend Swanson and yourself. The men might not have heard it, his low and tearful admission, each of them lost in their own demons, but you did. Suddenly overwhelmed by his confession, he apologized and disappeared into the night. 

He wanted to feel loved, wanted to belong, and it had struck you so deeply. 

                                                         -- ♞ --

You settled between the girls at the fire, the sun just ducking below the horizon. Tilly had cornered you shortly after you went back to your chores. 

“So?” She sidled up to you behind Pearson’s wagon, a cat-like smile crawling across her face. “How’d it go?”

“I learned a lot about horses.” You brushed her off, pretending to pay attention to your chores.

“C’mon, you can tell me!” Tilly whined.

“That’s the God’s honest truth, Tilly!” You sighed, returning the dirty dish to the basin. “He taught me a bit more about horses. He was real sweet about it.” 

Tilly huffed and crossed her arms before a sly smile started to creep across her face once more. She waved at you and turned to leave.

“Well, if you don’t want to tell me.” She called over her shoulder as she sauntered off around the wagon. You stared after her, your face twisted in confusion when you heard someone come up behind you.

“Evenin’ miss.” The familiar voice came from behind you, and you silently cursed Tilly before spinning around to greet Kieran. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to see if I could help ya with your chores…” he paused, “...since you helped me, I mean.”

You gasped slightly in surprise, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.  “Oh, heh, it was nothin’. You don’t need to waste your time helpin’ me.” You turned back to your chores, to hide your face.

“I, uh, I don’t think it’d be a waste.” Kieran stepped forward, offering you a small smile as you looked over at him.

He picked up a rag from the counter and held out his hand. “To be honest, I like spendin’ time with you.”  He looked down as his face turned all shades of red.

A small chuckle escaped you. Tilly had been right. “I like spending time with you, too.”  You held out a bowl to him.

[curiosity-killed]

sunbeam flaring

hair...healing...thoughts...?? They’re Dumbasses, Ur Honor

(title stolen from Love Sonnet XI by Neruda bc I had litcherally no idea what to call it)

word count: 2354

He notices it on a perfectly ordinary afternoon two weeks before Callebero’s twenty-second birthday. Inasmuch as the captain of the imperial cavalry has such a thing, it’s Sirion’s day off; he sleeps in, waking only briefly when Callebero extricates himself and presses a kiss to his cheek and then dozing until the sun is two fingers above the horizon. His morning is slow and indulgent; breakfast with Regent Aquios, who insists he call her by her first name despite the way he shies from such familiarity, followed by a few hours catching up on the paperwork and correspondence that has piled up in his office lately. Now, he pauses in the middle of running forms with Mikolan as Callebero crosses the gardens. He’s dressed formally today, in those heavy layers he hates and which always draw Sirion’s eyes to his narrow waist and the broad strength of his shoulders. An older retainer walks at his side, mirroring his frown, but it’s not their conversation that catches Sirion’s attention.

Callebero’s hair has been pulled back from the front, the long tail tucked into a neat bun that’s secured by a gold band. A spider’s-silk thread of jewels drips in a loop below it. Beneath it, the rest of his hair forms a short curtain falling just below his ear. The end of a staff taps him on the top of his head. “Stop gawking. We already know you and the imperator have turned the palace to your love nest, but you don’t have to be so obvious,” Mikolan scolds. “That is not—” Sirion starts to sign before huffing out a breath and giving up. Once she recovered from the initial shock of Valyn’s treachery and Callebero’s return, Mikolan had thrown herself gleefully into teasing him about their relationship. So far, she is still too mindful of place to say anything to Callebero, but she has taken full credit for them meeting and has not missed a single opportunity to remind Sirion of his early impressions of Callebero. There’s no point fighting such a losing battle, so he turns back to their practice and stows that startled notice away for later contemplation. It’s not like he’s unaware of it. He’d noticed Callebero scratching the back of his head with the end of a reed pen when his hair was little more than rabbit-fur fuzz, and Sirion has combed his fingers through both the long tail of his crown and the shorter locks just growing out. It’s just—he hasn’t thought about it. That night, curled close around each other with their legs tangled, Sirion skates his fingers through Callebero’s hair and tries to order his own thoughts. There’s a sharp division between the thick, downy underlayer and the longer half, sleek and silken. A fiercely selfish part of Sirion is grateful he never saw Callebero’s hair hacked short. He thinks he might have killed whoever held the blade. “I know, it’s ridiculous,” Callebero mumbles from where his face is smashed partially into the pillow and partially into Sirion’s left arm. Canting his head, Sirion shakes his fingers gently out of his hair and taps Callebero’s shoulder twice in the negative. Callebero shifts so that half his face is unburied and squints blearily up at Sirion. He’s not sure what all happened today, but Jisel had been clearly nursing a headache throughout dinner and Callebero had collapsed face first onto their bed before removing his crown or hairpieces. He’d muttered something about doing away with all laws and ceding absolute power to Jisel, to which Sirion had reasonably pointed out that she would kill him herself if he did such a thing. Groaning, Callebero had smashed his face into the pillow and muttered a string of curses that made even Sirion’s brows lift. “It is nice,” Sirion signs now. “I liked how you had it today.” Callebero squints at him, brow wrinkling as if in complete bafflement. “You may be a once-in-a-generation commander,” he says finally, “but your taste in men remains questionable.” Rolling his eyes, Sirion flicks his shoulder. “Say it again, and I’ll bite you,” he warns. For a moment, Callebero stares at him in open confusion, his lips parted around words that don’t escape beyond a faint squeak. Then, he breaks into laughter and reaches up to drag Sirion down and kiss him. “So much for my protector,” he teases. Sirion arches his eyebrows. “Jisel would say the same,” he retorts. “I can assure you Jisel would never bite me,” Callebero rejoins with a laugh. Rolling them over so that he can drape himself across Callebero’s chest and free his left arm, Sirion shakes his head. Callebero allows the shift comfortably, curling his arm around Sirion’s side to trace slow strokes up and down his back. Despite his earlier exhaustion, he’s bright-eyed now and smiles up at Sirion. “Only because she would be better prepared,” Sirion replies. At that, Callebero only breathes out a soft laugh and tilts his head to one side in apparent concession. “Very well, Commander,” he teases. “I solemnly swear not to doubt your taste in romantic partners ever again.” He leans in when Sirion presses a kiss to his lips and hums in pleasure when Sirion nips his bottom lip. “I don’t know how anyone thinks you’re such a solemn and decorous leader,” Sirion gripes. Callebero yawns and wiggles his shoulders in a mix of a shrug and an effort to nestle down into the mattress. Easing off him, Sirion settles back at his side with his arm draped over Callebero’s waist. His sleeping robes are warm and creased from being pressed so close between them, and Sirion can feel his own body slipping closer to sleep. “Mm,” Callebero hums. “It helps that I mostly keep my mouth shut.” Sirion can’t help breathing out a laugh at that, shaking his head. Like many, his first impression of Callebero had been a silent one—and at the time, Sirion had read that as cool haughtiness much as many visitors did. Laying such an image over the Callebero he now knows seems laughable, but he knows he’s one of only a few who can claim such familiarity. Under his arm, Callebero’s belly tenses with a quiet laugh. He prods Sirion in the ribs. “It worked on you, after all,” he teases. Mikolan’s incessant teasing rises to Sirion’s mind, and he shakes his head. Callebero grins. “You thought I was a brat,” he says, unreasonably gleeful. “I”—Sirion starts and then stops short, because that is true—“changed my mind.” Callebero snorts, graceless, and wriggles out from Sirion just enough to smother the candle on the side table. With only the moonlight left spilling blue through the cracks in the shutters, the room is ink-dark and it takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust. “It took me kicking your ass to change your mind,” Callebero retorts. “It was a draw,” Sirion signs. “I laid you out, love.” There’s laughter in Callebero’s voice as he speaks, and Sirion finds amusement battling down the old wound to his pride. He can still picture the staff end hovering right before his nose, Callebero’s careless, bright grin on the other end. He hadn’t fallen in love in that moment, but it had been a shift—a sudden, bracing change like dunking into cold water on a summer day. “You had the element of surprise,” he still insists. “Mm,” Callebero hums doubtfully. “I could still take you.” Narrowing his eyes, Sirion squints at him in the darkness. It’s absurd. They’re both grown men with more accolades than most families have in three generations. They’ve each emerged from three wars and a coup with honors and scars to prove their valor. There is no reason to quibble over an old sparring match. “Could not,” he signs anyway. Callebero’s laughter is more of a hot brush of air against Sirion’s skin than a sound, and he squeezes him once. “I suppose we’re due for a rematch then,” he says, the words briefly warped around a yawn. “Ah maybe next week?” Sirion hums and drops his head to Callebero’s shoulder, hooking his ankle around his calf. “For your birthday,” he signs, and Callebero laughs. Jisel catches on quickly, of course. On the third day of Regent Batu’s visit, they duck away with a pot of tea in the far corner of the library where only Callebero ever thinks to look. If anyone asks, they aren’t hiding. It’s simply a convenient location to get some work done while the visiting gentry fill the palace with gossip and traveling parties and more gifts than any single person has ever needed. For the most part, Sirion looks on all the pomp and frivolity with amusement. All these rich nobles falling over themselves to litter Callebero with gilt and gems as if they could win his favor with enough gold. And, selfishly, part of Sirion likes that none of their piled gifts will never match what Callebero actually wants. A toothed satisfaction runs through him at the futility of their sycophancy. “If Jemma catches you gawking at his hair one more time, I think she might combust,” Jisel remarks. Rolling his eyes, Sirion glances up from the report he’s been reading to shoot her a glare. Over the last year and a half, it has become apparent that Jemma doesn’t quite know how to handle he and Callebero being partners and seems stuck vacillating between threatening Sirion should he ever hurt Callebero and lecturing Callebero on valuing Sirion enough. Hayalen has spent most of it laughing at both her wife and the two of them. “I do not gawk,” Sirion retorts now. Jisel raises her eyebrows, hiding her smile behind her teacup, and he can feel heat suffusing his cheeks. Huffing out a breath, he leans back in his chair. “It’s not”—he stops, pressing his lips into a seam in frustration before sighing—“I’m just not used to it.” Humming faintly, Jisel lowers her cup to cradle between her hands and runs a fingertip back and forth over the lip. “I did the same when Kieran came back from Jimar,” she admits. “It took a while, and I hardly noticed at first but then…” She pauses, looking away. A pang squeezes Sirion’s heart. He doesn’t know exactly how she and the younger Aquios’ relationship fell apart, and they’ve seemed to be on polite enough terms now—but it still feels shocking and somehow wrong that they should have ended at all. “It’s comforting,” she says finally, turning back to him with a little smile, “to know that he’s not planning to rush headlong into danger again.” Oh. Sirion blinks, startled by that analysis. He’s hardly thought of it in such serious terms; when he’s pondered his sudden fixation on Callebero’s hair it’s been more in curiosity and bafflement. Footsteps sound behind them, and Sirion twists around. Callebero’s eyebrows arch up as he nears, unimpressed, and Sirion grins back at him. “Traitors,” Callebero announces. “We only wanted to give our imperator princep space to celebrate with his courtiers,” Jisel replies, sweet as honey. Huffing out a breath, Callebero drops down into the chair beside Sirion. “Your imperator princep would rather shovel out all the horse stalls in the capital,” he retorts. He kicks lightly at Sirion’s ankle, glancing over to grin at Sirion as if Sirion weren’t already looking at him. Shaking his head, Sirion reaches over to pull him in for a brief kiss. He comes willingly, smiling against his lips, and across the table, Jisel snorts. “Shameless,” she singsongs. Callebero laughs, a warm breath of air against Sirion’s lips, and then he pulls back to grin at her. He’s still leaned close enough that Sirion could run a hand through his hair if it weren’t so neatly pinned up. “I remember someone telling me that Aeridians are all too repressed and that’s why we spend so much time polishing our swords,” he says. Pausing, Jisel narrows her eyes and searches his face like she can’t tell if he’s joking or not. After a moment, she scowls and leans back. “You can’t use the things I’ve said while drunk against me,” she says. “And I stand by it anyway.” Shaking his head, Callebero snorts out a laugh. The motion makes his earrings jingle, ringing together like little chimes. When they turn in for the evening, he’ll grumble about all the layers and seriously contemplate going to bed with each of the dangling piercings still in, and Sirion will nudge him into sitting still long enough to let him take them out and loosen his hair from its severe styling. He can nearly feel the memory of it, the body-warm metal and the cool brush of hair, already lingering in his fingertips. “Since neither of you drink properly, it’s only fair,” Jisel says with a careless shrug. “That is for the sake of the nation’s dignity,” Callebero rejoins. Sirion snorts. “Where would we be if everyone knew the fearsome Black Prince fell asleep after one cup?” he teases. That earns him a short glare and a flick in his shoulder, but he captures Callebero’s hand to tangle their fingers together, which earns him a smile and a net win. Sitting back in his chair, Callebero rolls his shoulders and finally starts to relax. “Jar,” Callebero corrects loftily, and Jisel snorts. “Half,” Jisel rejoins. Stifling a grin, Sirion settles in to let them bicker it out. He’s never seen Callebero drunk, only warm and loose with wine and contentment. His only part in the quibbling is to tease both of them wherever possible. A few strands of Callebero’s hair have slipped loose from the braids and bun, sliding down in a loose loop. Humming softly, Sirion reaches out to tuck them behind his ear. His hand lingers, brushing gently through his hair. Callebero turns slightly, just enough for Sirion to catch the smile on his lips. It softens, warms, and Sirion finds himself mirroring him, helpless. Across the table, Jisel snorts at both of them, and Sirion’s smile broadens into a grin.

[thebloodychampion]

RANDOM SONGS FOR THE MUSES

Archer Hawke

“Someday” by Nickelback

Cyrion Hawke

“Desert Rose” by Sting

Dreag Hawke

“First Of The Of My Life” by Melanie C.

Lia Tabris

“Outrageous” by Britney Spears

Than Mahariel

“Rockstar” by Nickelback

Sethius Amladaris

“One More Cup Of Cofee” by Bob Dylan

Elgan Lavellan

“California Gurls” by Katy Perry feat. Snoop Dogg

Diran Lavellan

“When Love Takes Over” by David Guetta Feat. Kelly Rowland

Hjarrandr O Bearhold

“Preform This Way” by Weird Al Yankovic

Lucius Veridio

“Riders On The Storm” by The Doors

Etienne De Lechanger

“Sorry” by Daughtry

Nicolas Belmond

“So What” by Pink

Malcolm Hawke

“The Begining Of The End” by Nine Inch Nails

Tomey Surana

“What Goes Around Comes Around” by Justin Timberlake

Lyon Amell

“Memories” by Within Temptation

Solona Amell

“Ocean Soul” by Nightwish

Talar Adaar

“24 Hours” by Jam

Jarida Adaar

“Gotta Get Away” by The Offspring

Jerker

“Familiar Taste Of Poison” by Halestorm

Kieran

“Sugar Never Tasted So Good” by Muddy Waters

Eric Vanhallen

“Complicated” by Avril Lavigne

Ishal Cyprias

“Broken Bricks” by The White Stripes

Lorenzo Calacgnini

“Lollypop” by Mika

Armadiel Mahariel

“One Step Closer” by Linkin Park

Fergus Cousland

“Ka-ching” by Shania Twain

Irius Sparatus

“Always” by Salvia

Karnesh

“The Brave And The Bold” by Disturbed

Clavius Tarxis

“Guarded” by Disturbed

Renius Sparatus

“Superman (It’s Not Easy)” by Five For Fighting

Torana Sparatus

“My Skin” by Natalie Merchant

Jurdon Madadh

“Who Taught You How To Hate” by Disturbed

Ganar Drealav

“Vox Populi” by 30 Seconds To Mars

Raik Cagar

“Eat It” by Weird Al Yankovic

Haral Nyras

“Stronger” by Through Flames

Oswin Shepard

“Watching For Comets” by Skillet

Noah Shepard

“My Religion” by Skillet

Maron Hinom

“What If” by Creed

Shaela’Riel Vas Tonbay

“Believe” by Skillet

Lorik Qui’in

“New Divide” by Linkin Park

Marius Nyras

“Ugly Girl” by Weird Al Yankovic

Andrew Ryder

“Already Gone” by Kelly Clarkson

Tayus Draxas

“End Of All Hope” by Nightwish

Tachyus Nyras

“I’m Still Here” by Vertical Horizon

SAM

“Dangerous Kind” by The  Rasmus

Macen Barro

“Smells Like Nirvana” by Weird Al Yankovic

Yaora V’Loar

“Despicable Heroes” by Arch Enemy

Yandra Nyras

“Conflict” by Disturbed

Quentius Zuris

“The Revenge” by Russel Allen & Jorn Lande

Urdnot Wreav

“Genie In A Bottle” by Christina Aguilera

Adrien Victus

“Bitch” by Meredith Brooks

Ahnas Afaa Kjama

“Break The Ice” by Britney Spears

Steven Hackett

“The Power Of Goodbye” by Madonna

Septimus Oraka

“Oxygen” by Thousand Foot Krutch

Sidoria Arterius

“A Star Is Born” by Hercules OST

Iorveth

“Feel Good Inc.” by Gorillaz

Moony

“I Found A Way” by Alkaline Trio

Danny Fernandez

“Hear Me” by Kelly Clarkson

Belle Instance

“Alejandro” by Lady Gaga

Pamina Siemens

“Gaston” by Beauty And The Beast OST

Fenrir Greyback

“Criminal” by Britney Spears

Sharleen Siemens

“Elan” by Nightwish

Amelia Fernandez

“Bless The Child” by Nightwish

Eleasar Cohen

“Locking Up The Sun” by Poets Of The Fall

Ben Chaplin

“Battle Cry” by Skillet

Connor Montgomery

“Jump” by Simple Plan

Vortula Portocalos

“1000 Words” by Final Fantasy X-2 OST

Leslie Woodstock

“Apologize” by One Republic

Carlisle Eastwood

“Stricken” by Disturbed

Carolus

“I’m Only Happy When It Rains” by Garbage

Yarntar Loreian

“Kids” by Robbie Williams

[cowboisadness]

Hang Em’ High {FemOC x Arthur Morgan} Chapter 8

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summary: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

.....

Today it was back to doing the ever so mundane chores around camp, conversing with the other girls whenever we got the chance and when we knew Grimshaw wouldn't scold us for not doing work. Dutch was the leader of the gang, but Grimshaw kept everything running, kept everyone in line when doing the daily duties within the camp. God forbid anyone that crossed her, whether she thought us girls were taking our sweet time or the guys lacking in keeping up with their personal hygiene, she wouldn't go easy, even on her good days. Thankfully I haven't been on the receiving end of her fury, well, not yet anyway. When supper was ready in the evening and all chores were done, I thought it best to take a bowl over to the poor boy they had tied to a tree when I arrived. Kieran, his name is, apparently one of the O’Driscoll boys. Although he didn't seem like the type that would run with them, given the information I had been given regarding the rival gang. Kieran was now able to wander the camp, under the watchful eye of the others that saw him with nothing but contempt. He wouldn't get fed if it wasn't for us ladies. He kept himself busy with the horses most of the time, they wouldn't hurt or insult him after all. I approached him with a hot bowl, disturbing him as he brushed through The Counts mane, the beautiful white Arabian belonging to Dutch. Handing him the bowl he looked to me with hesitation, a few seconds passing by before he reached out to retrieve it.

“Don't worry, me nor the stew bite.”

“Thank you, Miss…”

“Bella”

“...Miss Bella. I hope you won't get a tellin’ for giving me this. Some of the other girls have.”

“Ya gotta eat. Besides, I'd give them a tallin’ back if they do.” He smiles slightly, finally taking a spoonful of the stew.

“How's my girl doing then?” walking over to my mare, stroking her nose and getting a playful nudge to the palm.

“She's a bit feisty sometimes but she's a good one. Does she have a name?”

A name. There's a lot of meaning in a name. I'd need something strong, something steadfast and with purpose. She's feisty but that means she knows what she wants. She seems the type that will set her mind to something and be determined to get it, like a hunter. Looking up to the darkening sky, clouds clearing to present itself with the most beautiful array of blues and blacks, adorned with tiny kisses of light.

“Orion.” I say with a point, keeping my eyes on the constellations above. “After the hunter in the stars. Yeah, I quite like that.” I look back down as she nudges me again, looking for any sweet treats I may have on my person. I give her another rub on her nose before turning back, giving a bye to Kieran as I make my way back to the stew pot.

After everyone had ate and the sun had fallen beyond the horizon most of the camp gathered around the main fire to share a few drinks. Arthur and Lenny decided to head into town for a few drinks instead, promising they will be back in a few hours and to keep out of trouble. Hosea gave them a doubtful look, reminding them that they were laying low. Pearson shared a few stories of his time in the Navy, everyone listening as they drank. Abigail soon retired to bed with a tired Jack in her arms, bidding everyone a goodnight. Couple of bottles later, Hosea was now the one to share stories. Ones of gripping heists and hilarious cons they carried out many years ago before the gang grew into what it is today. Laughter shared amongst everyone over the fire, rising into the air with the smoke. Before the alcohol could hit me in a way I would regret in the morning, I left the others to their merry stories and drunken tales. Curling up on the bedroll I let the distant chatter lull me to sleep.

…

By Morning I was woken by Karen, snaking me side to side, willing to awake with a loud whisper.

“What's wrong Karen?”

“Them two idiots must have got themselves locked up last night. Come with me to get them out?”

“Why me?” Sitting up I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked to her, confused.

“The others are too hungover or are still asleep.”

“Okay, just give me a moment to get sorted.”

“Wear something instead of pants.” She ordered before walking off.

I did as instructed, donning a simple collared white blouse, sleeves stopping just past the elbow. Blue skirt and blank belt to tie it all together as one. Meeting Karen at the horses we decided to take Arthurs and Lennys horses, given that they chose to walk to Valentine last night.

It didn't take long to get to Valentine, the town quickly waking up and going about its usual business. Men tending to their livestock and other men drunkenly stumbling home, or wherever they went to sleep off the alcohol. We made our way through the mud ridden street, stopping outside the Saloon to hitch the horses.

“You a good lier?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't want to risk the Sheriff or a Deputy noticing me. You go in and pretend you're a close relative of those fools. Flash that smile and flutter your eyes at the guy. Persuade him to release them for little to no cost.”

“Would he really fall for that?”

She began to ponder for a few seconds, thinking of something that will be easy and would with minimum effort“Do you have a ring?”

“No. I sold mine.”

“Here, take one of mine. Play as a disgruntled wife that is getting sick of her husbands' shenanigans. Sweet talk him.” She said, removing one of her rings, a dainty gold band and handing it out towards me,

“You mean flirt with a lawman?”

“Sure. He's a man it will be easy.” She could see I wasn’t unsure about this whole thing. Sure I know how to lie. Quickly learning a few weeks after being married then keeping it up for months. It was one thing to lie to that bastard and random people that didn't matter, but to lie to the law, well, that's something I didn't want to involve myself with.

“If he somehow finds out who they are and the bounties they have it will take a lot more than this to get them out.” With that I took the ring from her that was still in her outstretched hand, fitting it snugly onto my finger before turning away towards the Sheriff's building, leaving Karen with the horses and without another word. Seems like lying to the law is just something I'm going to have to get used to. Lucky for them I'm a good liar.

Standing outside of the door I inhaled deeply, putting on a slight scowl and pushing the door open. I didn't pay any mind to the man sat at the desk, instead making my way to the cells. Arthur and Lenny were in separate cells, the latter awake and looking very sorry for himself. He looked up, blinking a few times to make sure he was seeing correctly, shaking my head at him before turning to the man that was trying to get my attention while still sat at the desk. It wasn't the Sheriff, just a Deputy, a young one. This should be easy.

“I can only apologise for whatever trouble my husband and his friend caused Deputy”

“A pair of drunken fools starting fights they are.”

“It seems my husband won't accept that he has a low tolerance when it comes to whiskey. I hope it wasn't too serious.”

“We have a low tolerance for violent drunkards in this town miss.”

Placing my hands onto the table and swaying myself towards him slightly to minimise the distance between us and ignoring the chatter behind me as I looked down at my hands “I’m really at the end of my whits with him. Why couldn't I have married a decent man? I hope he didn't cause you trouble when bringing him in. Although... he might be a big oaf I’m sure you would have no trouble against him”

“Well, it didn't take much to fling him in that cell.”

“I bet you're used to more dangerous and violent bad guys huh? Your girl must get so worried knowing what sort of monsters you have to deal with.”

“I have no girl to call my own miss.”

Moving to sit partly on the desk, giving him a delicate smile and keeping my attention on the boy below. “Really? Any woman would be lucky to have a brave, principled man like yourself. Instead of a fool that spends all their money on drink and can't even handle it. A man that can take care of a town knows how to take care of his lady.”

“Bella” Arthur calls

“I’m not speaking with you!” I didn't look away, keeping my eyes locked with the young deputy, faintly trembling in his seat. Leaning over towards him, now peering at him through my lashes and lowering my voice for just him to hear. “I promise these idiots won't be any more trouble for you, But if they even cause the slightest disturbance...I'm willing to be punished personally for it.” I smirked at him then licking my lips and leaning over his desk to the point I could feel his quickening breaths on my face. He was frozen in place, looking to me like a cornered doe. Without faltering eye contact I shot him a wink, breaking him out of the trance. Breaking away from the intense eye contact he fumbled with the keys attached to his belt.

The keys rattled in his hands faintly as he went to open the cell doors. I blessed the stars that it was a naive deputy I faced instead of the Sheriff. It could have gone completely different and not as smoothly if it had been.

Leading the boys outside without a word to them, I turned to the Deputy as I approached the door, fiddling with the knob so plainly with delicate fingers. “Thank you. I will remember to hopefully repay you some time.” Shooting him a wink I walked out the door before he could say a word.

What a sad site they were. Lenny vomited on himself once outside and Arthur was sat leaning against the post. Both unable to open their eyes properly as the morning light burned and made their heads throb.

“I’m just gunna have a little sit-down and...feel sorry for myself”

“Oh no you ain't. You and a few others have to go rescue that Sean fella.” He grumbled as I stood beside him, waving off Lenny who had been found by Karen, both of them setting off back to camp.

“What happened last night?”

“Don't remember.”

I huffed at that. Alcohol does one hell of a job on folk. I pulled him up, steadying him on his feet before practically dragging him to his horse, deciding that I would sit up front to take us back to camp.

Javier, Charles, Arthur and Trelawny were the ones going to rescue Sean, who was being held at Blackwater. Everyone was on edge for their safe arrival, none of them wanted to be anywhere near Blackwater right now. It was late afternoon before the beat of hooves could be heard coming up the path. Javier had returned with a loud Irishman at his back. The camp ran to meet the two, thankful for Sean's safe return and Sean replied with a shout about needing a strong drink or five. The camp's whole demeanour was flipped on its head in a matter of minutes with crates of beer and whiskey being pulled from Pearson's wagon and placed around the fire. It was time to celebrate. Arthur and Charles arrived as the first bottles were being passed around and opened, everyone collecting around the fire. Dutch gave some words on how happy he was that Sean was finally back and safe and everyone was soon talking merrily. Javier retrieving his guitar and some joined in on his song. Sean shared stories of his capture, though obviously exaggerated. Hands waving in the air for dramatic effect. Karen sat closely by his side. Arthur came to sit in the space between me and Sadie with a bottle in hand. Looking between him and the bottle he just shrugged. It seemed the rescue mission helped him get over his hangover.

“And who is this lady?” Sean bellowed as he approached.

“Annabelle, but you can call me Bella.” I smiled up at him, raising my hand for him to shake,

“Well, well. It is my pleasure miss Bella” He took my hand but instead of shaking it as I expected he pressed his lips to the back. “Where did they find you then?”

“Long story. Arthur helped me escape a less than ideal situation I would say”

“Swept up another high society lady hey Arthur”

“Shut it, Sean” Sean raised his hands in mock defeat at that.

“Just jesting Englishman. But I would love to know how you do it. I'd say she's prettier than the last. Hopefully a bit wilder.” Sean began to back away, hands still in the air but with a grin on his face.

“I wish I left you hanging from that tree.”

I couldn't help but laugh slightly, pursing my lips together to stop as Arthur looked at me with disgust that I would even entertain the Irishman.

The drinks went quickly throughout the night. Everyone singing, Uncle breaking out his banjo and others got up to dance. The alcohol was starting to take effect on me too, despite telling myself to only have a couple. It was obvious that everyone needed this. Needed some good news and a reason to celebrate.

Abigail and Jack were the first to leave even though Jack was very much awake and enjoying the liveliness around him. As the moon got higher and the night was truly set, one by one people stumbled to their tents or bedrolls. Leaving only a handful of us around the fire, sharing stories of alcohol-fueled shenanigans they got up to over the years. I had none to contribute, seeing as this was the drunkest I have ever been. I was dizzy and euphoric at the same time. My balance was unsteady and I felt like I was spinning even while seated. My body felt lighter, more at ease. Any worries I had were gone and buried. Living in the joy of the moment. Arthur and Sadie and I sat in front of the log instead of on it as we all progressively got more inebriated. The log keeping us upright and more stable. The fire before us began to die down as the celebrations did, the rest going to bed. Just Arthur and I left around the dying fire, still supping what little was left of the bottles in our hands. I didn't want to sleep, I wanted the celebrations and singing to carry on till daybreak. But my eyes started to feel heavy.

“How was the rescue?” I slurred, turning to Arthur

“Fine. Didn’t die.” His accent even thicker thanks to his drunken state.

I exhaled a laugh and a loud snort followed. My hand shot up to cover my mouth, basically slapping myself in the face, eyes wide at the noise I just made. Arthur looked at me wide-eyed also, equally taken back. He began to laugh, I soon followed. The two of us giggling into the night. My eyes were getting heavier and heavier by the minute, along with my body quickly losing its feather-light feeling. Moving myself I leaned into the log, resting my head on my hands upon it. In my current state, this was more comfort than any plush bed could provide. Before I knew it my eyes were closed, sleep overtaking me.

[twilighcreed]

Title: What Pride Has Brought

Paring: Arthur Morgan X Reader (Established Friendship turned Romance); Past Arthur Morgan X Mary Linton (Mentioned)

Author: TwilighCreed

Word Count: 6.4k+

Warning: Violence themed, gore, character death, angst, animal death, strong language... Defiantly not something children should read... 

Summary: In the wake of the Valentine massacre, the Gang faces a short supply of much needed food after their hasty retreat to their new hideout at Clements Point. With their leaders gone in search for a way out, Y/N takes in upon herself to ensure the well being of her family in the Ambarino mountains. 

Authors Note: Hello everyone! It’s been a long while since I’ve last posted anything on my account, and I deeply apologies for that. With me starting my career in the military, enlisting has taken me across the country and the world. This story has been collecting dust in my archives since December of 2018 and I thought it’s about time I get back into my passion for writing. Not sure if I’ll make a part two, but it’s defiantly a thought. Thank you all so much for your patience! 

Enjoy! 

    The tension of the rawhide bowstring was taut between your fingertips, the skin raw from continuous use for the past several days and you could feel the ache in your muscles. You were used to the soreness—it was always yours and Charles responsibility to go hunting for provision within the camp. The others were always too clumsy when it came to the primitive art of hunting, bringing back small game and buckshot meat and ravaged pelts, neither of which were any help when it came to carving what little meat you could salvage from the appalling carcass of a whitetail buck. It became too common that you took it upon yourself to become the food provider; easing the weight off Charles and making Pearson a little happier when you started to bring quality kills in from a hunt.

Furthermore, when you weren’t at camping helping the woman with their chores, making meals other than stew for the men, and helping Kieran with the horses or aiding Dutch with new plans of another heist, you often find yourself surrounded by thick forest with nothing but your wits and skills to keep you alive while you hunt for the next big thing: elk.       

The bland taste of local game started to become recurring and the meals weren’t as happily anticipated anymore; causing the gang to start complaining about the food quality and making a bitter Person. You looked over at him with empathy while slowly chewing on your stew, and by the following morning you packed your warmest attire and drove your horse up north to the Ambarino mountains, heading to Grizzlies East where you heard fellow hunters and trappers had caught prized kills. It was worth a shot and a good excuse to leave camp for a few days. Arthur always had you stuck in camp.

It was what lead up to your current situation, with an improved arrow notched in your bowstring and your dominant arm brawn back with the large form of an elk in between your crosshairs. He was several meters away—amidst dead vegetation and low hanging branches— from your hidden position behind a pine tree, your body leaning up against the bark to help keep you steady and benefit you in getting a perfect shot. All you needed to do was aim a little lower to the left…

“Your posture is off.”

TWANG! 

THUNK!

    In your focused concentration, you were unaware of a presence coming up behind you that your fingers slipped and the arrow was released too early, sending it flying between the Elks' legs and into the tree behind them. Now aware that the elk’s life was threatened, it wasted no time to burst into a sprint and make a sharp turn into the dense vegetation. In a matter of seconds, you lost sight of the mammal and you could only watch it flee in utter defeat.

You could hear the quiet chuckle behind you and your devastated shock quickly turned into fierce annoyance. Whipping around, you glared at the man leaned up against a tree behind you, a smug smile on his lips and a mischievous spark in his eye. For a moment you stood there in admiration at how unmistakable handsome Arthur Morgan looked with his blue winter coat and hat tipped low, but the sting and numb feeling you felt in your arms and hands reminded you that he had just ruined a perfect opportunity to kill a prized elk you had spent the past three days tracking. It was a horrendous act of betrayal—he knew you pride yourself on your hunting abilities.     

Your breath was hot in its confined space behind your bandana despite the plummeting cold that surrounds you, and for a moment it became almost unbearably uncomfortable. Allowing your bow arm to rest, you reached up and pulled down the cloth covering your lower face, a scowl etched into your features. 

“What the hell, Arthur!?” you half whispered half yelled, your irritation clear enough for him to know that you were furious with him, however, your displeasure didn't seem to phase him, only adding to his pride of getting you worked up so quickly. 

It usually took a lot to get you angry, you were always calm and collected, but when it came to Arthur Morgan, he knew exactly what buttons to push to throw you into a fit, and that irks you, but at the same time gave you a strange comfort because it only showed how well he did know you. 

“My bad, sweetheart, did I scare ‘em off?” he spoke, his western drawl husky and laced with hints of laughter; and for a second, your previous anger subsided and you welcomed the sound of his voice.      

“What’da think?” you huffed, glancing back over your shoulder at where you last saw the elk run off to. “Damnit. It took me three days the track him.” you groaned.

The sound of breathy laughter caught your ears and you narrowed your eyes, looking over at the cowboy with a more intense glare, a frown tugging at your lips. He was laughing at you. “What are you laughing at? This is serious, Arthur!”

“I know it is. Calm yourself, Darlin’. Come on, let's go get yer elk. He couldn't have gone far.”

You watched him with a continuous scowl as he pushed himself off the tree and started to trek over in the general direction of where the elk had scurried off, ignoring your pointed look with a smirk. 

While he crouched down and examined the tracks, you walked over and plucked your arrow from the tree, examining the arrowhead for any damage that might have been caused on impact. To your surprise, it didn’t take too much damage, but it would still need to be sharpened at the tip before it could be used again.

“Where’d you leave your horses?” 

“Just past that treeline,” you nodded in the direction, walking back over to where Arthur now stood. “I brought Dutchess and Arizona with me.”

“I noticed. Why’d yer need two?” he asked, joining your side while you sauntered to where your horses were hitched. 

You chuckled softly, “An elk is a lot heavier than a deer. I’m planning on taking a lot of the meat back to camp and stock up. God knows I can only take enough of everyone's complaining about the food.”

Arthur hummed in understanding. It was blatantly obvious that morale was low in camp since the move from Horseshoe Overlook to Clements Point, and with the new humidity they had to endure and the rise in temperature, most of the food had gone bad, leaving a limitation on what was available. You knew a few tricks that would keep the elk’s meat lasting for several weeks, even months if the process was taken with precaution.

Reaching to where you had your horses hitched, you placed a gentle hand on your mustang mare—Dutchess—neck and gave her a few gentle strokes before moving over to your draft horse, Arizona; checking over them to make sure they were well enough to drive through the snow. When you were satisfied, you placed your bow on your saddle and mounted your horse, glancing over at Arthur. 

Just as you were about to ask where his horse was, he lets out a high whistle and you could hear a horse wine not too far from where you were. Not long after, you spotted the black frame of a large animal and out came the confident struts of his Arabian stallion. Arthur smirked when he noticed your envious eyes.

“You need to teach me how to call my horse like that.” 

“Maybe some other time, now come on, we’re losin’ daylight.”

You nodded your head and held the reins of your mount as well as the lead to your other. You allowed Arthur to take the front, directing his horse to where the elk's prints were still fresh. You might as well let him do the tracking, he was the one who spooked the elk.

☾

     Your eyes studied the distance between the setting sun and the horizon, calculating how much time you have left before it grew dark and you would either need to set up camp or find shelter, depending on how the weather held up. You had maybe a minimum of two hours before then, and with the temperature growing, even more, colder than the previous nights, you knew it was going to be a freezing night.

 “Arthur,” you called his name from atop your horse. When he heard your worried tone, he looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes becoming serious and you knew you had his full attention. With a regretful sigh, you kicked your horse to stop beside his mount. “It’s getting late. We should find some shelter. I have a feeling that tonight's gonna get pretty bad.”

“Are ya sure? What about your buck?”

You both had been tracking him for several miles at this point, from Lake Isabella all the way up Spider Gorge and east to Cairn Lake and soon after reaching the lake the wind had started to pick up covering his trail with the surrounding snow making it even harder to track him. There was no point in continuing with a dead end.

“We can try again in the morning.” you said, “Colter isn't far from here. We can set up camp there. No point in tracking him if we freeze tonight.”

Arthur nodded his head in silent agreement before turning his reins and heading west, backtracking and going northwest off the trial. You noticed he had become quiet, a stern front replacing the gentle persona he had shown you earlier. It was unsettling but you knew it was better to leave it alone. 

Colter was the first settlement the gang had found after the whole ordeal in Blackwater and they were forced to run north away from the Pinkertons. It was an old abandoned mining town that still seemed intact, but with the harsh and unpredictable weather, it was slowly starting to degrade with passing time. 

“So, how’d you find me?” you asked, trying to start a gentle conversation while watching as Arthur tugged at the reins for his mount to bank left and up the hill. “You were still gone when I left.”

“Charles told me. You should have waited until I came back,” he said, his voice gruff and flat.

This slightly threw you off. Why was he acting so cold towards you?

“The camp needed food, Arthur. A whitetail or a bore can only do so much and the camps funds are low and no one is willing to spend their own money on food for everyone else.” you reasoned, feeling slightly offended that he thought you couldn't handle yourself. He knew you could hold your own. “Besides, you were off with Dutch and Hosea doing Gods-knows-what while I’m doing some actual work for the group.” you shot back, a bitter taste in your mouth.

His head twisted and he gave you a hard glare making you slightly flinch in your saddle. You cursed at yourself for opening your mouth like that, but it had been nagging at you for a while and part of you felt relieved you said it out loud. But with the hard look, he was giving you now made you question if it was right of you to say it.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he clamored, pulling back on his reins and stopping his mount before turning in the saddle to look at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me. Since that shitshow, in Valentine, we had to move camp again, and at the worst time—”

“It ain’t like we haven’t had to move before. You're the one outhere hunting for some damn elk while I’m the one risking my neck to make us some money.” he protested, belittling your effort with comparing his work with yours.

Both you and Arthur worked harder than most when it came to contributing to the camps well being. You both had strong bonds to the gang meaning you both took everything personally and to heart. Arthur had been with the gang longer than you and is one of the original members and right hand of Dutch. You coming many years later when you were seventeen and at the time Arthur was twenty-five. 

There was an obvious strong connection between you and Arthur. There was no doubt about it. He took the role of looking after you when they found you on death's door after aiding them when a job has gone wrong. Feeling responsible, he had persuaded Dutch to take you in (not that he needed much persuading, you did help them after all). Some of the members at camp would argue and say your relationship was almost at the peak of romantic, but with Arthur’s troubled past relationships with Mary Linton, and you not wanting to spoil what you had with him, you decided to keep it as just companions. 

Though it never stopped either of you from looking longing after one another when either would go to bed in their respective tents, or seek each other out after no seeing the other for a while, nor the long talks you shared by the campfire, speaking in hushed whispers about your past and what the future holds. And because of this bond and Arthur taking on the role of bodyguard, he practically forbids you from leaving camp, ensuring several arguments like this one.        

“Excuse me, you're the one who wouldn't let me pick up a job! Not even an honest one!” you growled, holding your ground. You weren’t afraid to stand up to Arthur like the others. It was both admirable and annoying trail. It gave him pride knowing you could stand your ground but also incredibly irritating when it comes to situations like this.

“Yeah? What the hell yer gonna do? Work at the whore house?”

Your eyes widen in shock, hurt, completely taken off guard. For a long minute, you didn't know what to say, your heart clenching inside your chest that it became unbearable. You could see that the moment those words left his lips he regretted it, but there was no turning back now. Arthur was just as stubborn as you were, maybe even more.

Your lips tightened and your eyes turned cold, you first clenching tight around the leather straps and you swore you saw Arthur tremble. 

“You know what? Fuck you!” you shouted, “I didn’t ask for you to come out here! You know damn well I could pick up an honest job.” you deflect, determined to defend your wounded pride.

“Mhm, sure.” he tusked, shaking his head in disbelief. 

You didn't know what the hell got into him, but you weren’t going to push around. That wasn’t you. 

“Damn you, Arthur Morgan. Why the hell are you even out here? I don’t need you! Why don’t you go back to the fucking bitch Mary!” you shouted, almost standing up in your saddle and pointing an accusing finger at him.

When the name of his past lover left your lips you saw the green of Arthur's eyes widen and his face pale. Not a second later his stone cold facade resurfaced and his tone became bitter and threatening.

“How the he—”

“You think I didn't know?” it was your time to laugh,  “I saw the damn letter, Arthur. You wanna try and explain yourself on that one?”

“She needed my help. Her brother was off trying to join some damn cult—”

“So you go crawling back to her after what she did to you? After everything, I’ve done for you?! Do I mean so little to you, Arthur?”

The secret was revealed and you weren’t sure if you were happy or upset even more than when you found the letter. But the cards were dealt and now you both had to face them.

“It ain’t like that, Y/N. You know that!” he choked and his eyes narrowed, “It ain't even your damn business!”

You just shake your head. 

It hurt you more than you’d like to admit when you saw the letter. It hurts even worse when he came back to camp late knowing that he went off to see her. You didn't know what transpired between them, but you assumed the worst. You thought that if you prepared yourself it would hurt less. That's what you thought and you were wrong. It still hurt like a son of a bitch. 

“Yeah, of course, you’d say that.” you huffed, feeling defeated. You suddenly got a strong feeling of wanting to be alone, and if you stayed even longer you know things would get worse. 

Turning your reins sharply you kicked your horse's side and clicked your tongue, sending both your mounts into a fast trot. “Do me a favor and leave me the hell alone!” you yelled over your shoulder, not daring to look back.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” You heard him shout after you but heard no sign of him coming after you.

Good.

“Away from you! Hiya!”

☾

When the sun’s rays had finally been closed off by the mountain ridge and the moon started it’s rise to the middle of the midnight sky, you had bitterly wished you stayed with Arthur. The temperature had notably dropped tremendously and not even your many layers of clothing could keep the bone-chilling cold out. Your horses undeniably increased in their whines and you couldn’t blame them. It was damn near freezing and the wind had picked up making you all the more miserable and making it even harder to ignore the cold.

From the last few minutes of daylight, you were headed further north following along Spider Gorge. You haven't been this far north so you were treading new territory and with night befalling far more quickly that you’d like, you were desperately attempting to find some landmarks or shelter. Anything to get you and your horses out of the cold, but to your demise, there was nothing but snowy mountains closing you in and thick trees.

“Fuck.” you cursed, your body shaking violently and your teeth clattering getting even louder.

This wasn’t at all what you planned or hoped for. Everything was going the exact opposite in the worst way possible. The gang was still left without food (to your knowledge), the Pinkertons were hot on your gang's trail; losing Jenny, Davy, and Mac; stupid Mary coming back into Arthur's life and now your argument and the weather turning foil. 

Nothing was going right and dread started to creep into the pit of your stomach. If you stayed out here any longer you would freeze to death, and the last thing the gang needed was to find out you died because of your pride and jealousy. But the one thing that keeps eating at you was that you would die alone, without telling Arthur your true feelings, and that you wouldn't have the chance to fix the rift that had started to grow for the past few weeks since you discovered the letter.

It was selfish of you to think that he was yours and yours alone and that what you had was really special. You were a fool and you could see that now. It still didn't ease the pain in your heart. And yours hopes to have a few days away from him only made matters worse. 

More than anything you just wanted to be back at camp, in the company of your family and in the quiet embrace that you would share with Arthur after a long night by the fire and a bottle in hand before you found the letter.

“C-come on girl… j..just a little… further…” you managed to say between shivering breaths. 

The wind started to howl and with it: snow. It was turning into a blizzard and your hope for surviving was starting to diminish. You weren’t one to give up so easily, not without a fight at least. You came into this world in someone else's blood kicking and screaming, you’d be damned if you didn't go out the same way.

A sudden howl caught your attention and you felt your blood run cold. With the rush of wind, the howl was amplified and it was near impossible to know where it was coming from. But you knew that sound from anywhere… 

Wolves.

Your mare abruptly let out a loud cry and started to frantically move in her place, throwing her head back and letting out a string of whales. It was frightening and you tried to calm her down with your words but to no avail, the wind was too loud for her to hear you. 

Before you could do anything, Arizona let out a whine himself and throw his body in the air, his forelegs kicking and the lead slipping from your hand. You hopelessly reached out to grab the rope but it was too late and he broke into a run and you lost sight of him in the storm.

“Shit! Arizona!” you called out, “Damn it!” 

You had heard of a wolf pack prowling these parts from the time John was attacked, but in your time spent here, you hadn't heard nor seen any. Not even any dead carcasses of animals they hunted or signs of a possible den. You thought it was too cold for them. You were wrong. If your knowledge was correct, the wolves corralled their prey, forcing them to run. You had your revolver and knife if it came down to a fight, but with the severe unseasonable weather, a wolf attack would seal your death. 

If a wolf manages to pine you down, they would undoubtedly go for your throat. If you managed to get out of the struggle, you would most certainly have critical wounds, and if the infection did not kill you, the blood loss would. And if by some miracle neither of these happened, the elements would finish you off—hypothermia being the primary cause.

Through the blizzard you heard another howl, this one much closer and you could hear more than one as they raised in voice. Instantaneously Dutchess let out a panicked cry and broke out into a gallop, oblivious to your commands when you tried to stop her. It all moved to fast and everything just seemed to blur around you and before you could do anything, Dutchess came to a streaking halt and you flew forward. 

The snow was deep enough that your landing wasn’t too harsh, but the moment you fell into the white blanket you let out a yelp for how freezing the snow felt against your exposed flesh. You stumbled to your feet and the howling wind was broken by the unmistakable sound of a curdling growl.

You couldn't move. Your muscles had seized and your body trembled in fear. All function in your body just went out and you were no longer in control and no matter how hard you screamed at yourself to move, you couldn't. You were frozen in fear.

It took the cry of your horse and the bloodlust bark of a beast to make you move. You picked yourself up and turned sharply away from where you heard the terrifying noises, your body going to flight mode and you just ran. Your mare was already too far ahead of you by the time you started to flee, and your fear spiked to its peak. There was no way you could catch up to her.  

The wind whipped at your face and bite at your skin. Your body was numb and everything stung and burned. You were losing energy fast. Trying to hike through two feet of snow was draining you and trying to run was only making it all the more difficult. 

You could hear the barks and growls coming from behind you, and the rush of their paws against the snow. You didn't know if it was just one or many, you couldn't see them, and you didn't want to find out.

You leaped forward, digging your heels into the white powder and clawing your way through the thick snowfields. Your breath was ragged and hot, your throat sore from your sharp intakes of the icy bitter cold and every muscle fiber in your body burned like a raging fire. You could still hear them behind you and for a moment you looked over your shoulder; never stopping your assault forward. What you saw made your heat drop.

You could see a blurry outline of the beast. It was larger and bigger than any of the wolves you’ve seen throughout the states. Its eyes looked as if they glowed white and it struck terror down to your core. Wolves often hunted in packs, and they were chasers, opportunist, seeking weak prey. You were that chase, that open opportunity—you were the hunt. 

This sudden new found fear pushed you to go even harder, faster, leaping up out of the snow and pushing through with purpose. You refused to be their food. You disregarded your worries for the horse and focused on the looming threat at hand. You needed to find shelter and you needed to find it fast.

Through what little light filtered through the storm, you saw the distinguishable outline of pine trees. Being in an open field would give them a larger area to strike, so if you stuck to the trees you would put something between you and wolves. It was the only choice you had.

Making a beeline for the thick forest you felt the sting of the lower branches lash out while you plunged into the thick of it. It slows you down but gave you an advantage by putting distance between you and the threat. The recognizable sound of their strides grew a little quieter, but their voice of annoyance grew louder.

You had managed to find the outcropping of a mountain's side and with it the chance to find shelter. It was difficult trying to navigate through the blizzard but you had coped with this difficulty, finding that the mountainside abruptly curved inward into itself. A cave. 

You stumbled forward and out of the storm, your hand reaching for the wall to help guide you. You had heard that some caves would continue on for miles but the floors underneath them would disappear. Many miners and curious adventures had died that way; falling to their death. It was distinctly colder in the cave, but you were blocked from the wind and out of the open storm. You were safe for now, but you weren’t out of danger just yet.

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and you could make out blurry lines of the structure of the cave. The ceiling was low, but enough for you to stand at your full height without having to bend your knees. You could barely make out the other side of the cavern and you estimated that it was at least four meters wide. The atmosphere was slightly damp but it was dry enough that you wouldn’t be at the risk of frostbite, but the snow had penetrated your coat and when the temperature would rise, the snow would melt and your clothes would become soaked. 

You shuffle your feet forward and kept your palm flat against the wall. You glanced back to the opening of the cave and saw that the entrance was smaller than when you stumbled in. You were several yards in when suddenly your foot hit something hard and you fell forward. You thrust your hands forward and were able to soften your fall but you could feel your forearms and palms sting and your knees ache when it came into contact with the ground.

You waited a moment on all fours to regain your breath and to calm your nerves. Your heart was banging against your chest, threatening to break free and it was so loud in your ears you that you thought it would burst. Thankfully, your muscles were still shaking indicating that you didn't pass the threshold of severe hypothermia. You weren’t sure but you know your core temperature had most likely dropped and you would need to build a fire to regain that lost heat. 

So lost in thought, your body ignored the dampness beneath your palm and it wasn’t until you made a move to get up that you noticed it. It didn't feel like water because it wasn’t cold. It was warm and almost sticky. Pushing yourself up, you reached into the coat of your pocket for your matches and pulled them out. It was the only source of light you had. You left your lantern secured on your saddle.

With trembling hands, you managed to pluck a single wood match from its container before dragging the tip across the ignitor, igniting the flame. The match did not give off a lot of light, but enough for you to see a little more clearly now. 

Curious as to what made you fall, you turned your head down and to your horror, you almost screamed. The object that had made you fall wasn’t a rock like you though, but the carcass of an elk, the elk you were hunting. You know it was the elk you were hunting because of the antlers. One of the tips had broke clean off. It was how you were able to track him. 

You tumbled backward in shock, your backside hitting the stone and it ran up your spine like a lightning bolt. The front part of your clothes—more notable your hands and knees—were drenched in blood. You groaned, suddenly feeling sick. Holding down the urge to vomit, you pushed yourself up onto your knees to get a closer look at the corpse of the elk.

Striking another match, you brought it close, your eyes looming over the ravaged carcass. You could still feel the heat radiating off the animal's fur and the smell wasn’t rank, meaning the kill was still fresh. The throat of the mammal had cleanly been bitten through and the belly was torn open and pulled apart. Upon closer inspection, you could see puncture wounds scattered all over the body, notable around the limbs of the elk. They were bite marks.

Realization washed over you and for a second time that night you felt your heart seize in your chest and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Quickly, you stood up and surveyed the area, dread holding you tightly while you prayed to God that you weren’t where you thought you were. Then you saw it. Bones littered the back of the cave and chewed on skulls decorated the floor. Patches of dead leaves and branches were scattered in remote parts of the cave as fixed for bedding.

You were on their home…

 A low, deep throaty growl echoed through the cave and you wished the world would swallow you whole. You spun around, your eyes straining in search of where you heard the growl came from.

You swallowed hard when you saw the form of a wolf standing in front of you, it’s massive body trapping you while it bared its fangs, freshly stained crimson from the elk's blood; its eyes clouded in lust for blood—your blood. You could see that the wolf was foaming at the mouth, saliva dripping down in strings onto the cold floor. 

You kept your eyes locked with the wolf, your hand slowly reaching down to where your holster was. You had six bullets in the chamber and one already in the barrel, if you aimed right and shoot quick enough, you should—

 Your thoughts were cut short when you saw two smaller forms come out from behind, what you presumed, the alpha. They weren’t as threatening as the one who stood before you, but they only added to your stakes of you making it out alive.

They seemed to chitter almost themselves, their heads dropped low and their eyes never leaving yours. You could hear the scrape of their claws on the ground and you shuddered in fear; you wouldn't be surprised if the wolf could smell it on you. It would be strong. 

Your eyes flickered from one beast to the other, your mind racing to come up with a plan, anything to get you out of this mess. But each only seemed to end in your demise. 

Where the hell was Arthur when you needed him?

Just as your fingers grazed the cold steel of your revolver, almost instantaneously the wolf lunged. 

It happened so quickly you didn't have time to think: just act.

The loud vibrant explosion of your finger pulling back on the trigger echoed several times before you felt the massive weight of the animal push you down. You felt your breath leave your lungs and you were left winded, gasping for breath but you didn’t have time. You threw your arms out in front of you as a shield and a sudden burning, searing piercing pain shot up your arm and you cried out. 

Grunts and barks filled your ears as the wolf thrashed it’s head side-to-side, it’s jaws clamped around your arm, ripping your clothes and its teeth sinking deeper into your left arm. Out of reflex your right hand turned into a fist and started to strike down hard onto the wolves head, yelps and gasp leaving your lips as the wolf only seemed to bite down harder.

You felt the massive paws push down even harder on your chest and the pressure became too great that you thought you heard a crack. You yelled and reached blindly for your pistol, your hands only coming in contact with the cold floor. Abandoning the gun, you reached down to your side and gripped the hilt of your knife and yanking it out of the sheath. 

The wolf let go of your arm for a second only to lunge for your throat. You moved your head to the side and felt the wolves teeth sink into your shoulder and your mind went blank in agony and you screamed. You brought the knife up and muster all your strength, you plunged the blade into the wolf, blind aiming. 

You heard the wolf cry out in its own pain, its teeth leaving your skin and you bitterly hopped it was worse than what you felt. 

You pulled the knife out and plunged it back in, this time closer to the chest. It yelped above you, warm blood oozing onto your hand as you repeatedly stabbed the wolf while using your left arm to push the wolf up, exposing it’s soft belly to you. With a cry, you dug the knife as hard as you can into the soft flesh of the wolves underside and the beast gave out a weak whine.

The weight above you gave way and the wolf tumbled off you, your knife still impaled in its side. You took the opportunity and rolled to your side with a pained grunt, your good arm reaching for your pistol. When you felt the metal against your palm you shot forward, your iron sights aimed at the other two wolves and letting off several rounds. By the painful yelps, they let out you know you hit at least one of them. 

Click! Click! Click!

The soft clink of your gun told you-you were out of bullets. Looking down at the gun you threw it to your side, the clattering of steel hitting the rocks bounced off the walls and you were left in silence.

Your eyes traveled back up and you were once more greeted with the slow and disheartening realization that you were alone. The other wolves had fled when you killed the authoritative figure in their small pack. Without their leader they were useless.

The agonizing pain forced you to look down at your wounded limb and bleeding shoulder. The wolf had torn clean through your coat and undershirt underneath, creating a clean path down to your flesh. With the dime light of the cave, you could see the bright crimson of your blood leaking from several large puncture wounds on the back of your forearm. You wouldn't be surprised if it went down to the bone. 

Using your right hand, you gently yanked down on the bandana wrapped around your neck, freeing it before you used the cloth as a makeshift wrap. Your hands had stopped trembly so it was a little easier to tie a loose not after you wrapped your arm. In the distance you could feel the warm trickle of your blood as it seeped into your shirt and stained your chest, small streams of blood leaking from your shoulder and you could feel an intensified ache with each heartbeat.  

 Your breaths came out short and shallow, and each puff was accompanied by a thick cloud of smoke. You could no longer feel the tingle in your toes or the burning of your muscles. You couldn't feel anything but the pain of your wounds. Everything just seemed to grow quiet… And you felt the heaviness in your eyes and it was becoming more difficult to hold yourself up. 

You blinked, and you blinked again, a sudden dark cloud creeps into the corners of your vision, slowly reaching forward and the world started to become dark and cold. 

“Nu.. nno… no…” you tried to say, trying to force yourself to stay awake but with each passing second, it was becoming clear this wasn’t a battle you would win. Your muscles gave out and you fell on your back, numb to the pain when your head hits the floor.

“A..Ar… aarrthh… Arthuuurr…” you whispered into the abyss. His name sends warmth to your heart and you almost cracked a smile.

You knew you were going to die. But it was going to be a good death. You were proud because you had died the way you wanted, kicking a screaming; your body soaked in the mixture of your blood and the wolves. It wasn’t a bad ending to a short and painful story. It was better than at the gallows with a noose wrapped tight around your neck and the people chanting your name for a crime that wasn’t yours. 

But all that didn't seem to matter, because as the darkness took over your vision and your eyes became too heavy to keep them open, all you could see was the deep forest green of his eyes, and feel the soft tendrils of his hair, and hear the sweet deep voice of his drawl as he said your name…

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Supercorp SAO AU, Pt 3

Kara hasn't ever met Lena's husband. Honestly, she isn't entirely sure Lena has either. He's never home, Lena's apartment very much her own from the art to the books to the furniture. If not for the occasional tabloid photo, the wedding portrait on Lena's mantel, and the rings on her left hand, Kara might have assumed the husband to be a specter to dissuade would-be suitors. Even so, she can't help but notice the way Lena's smile dims when she sees his number on her phone during movie night. "It's nothing," Lena says, when Kara works up enough nerve to mention it. "He likes to pick fights. I used to enjoy the debates we'd have, but lately... I don't know. It doesn't feel like debate anymore. And at the end of the day I don't have the energy for it." Over the weeks and months, Kara learns about him in bits and pieces. That he was a friend of Lex's, and that they fell in love over the course of several summers. That he had his own tech company, who had just migrated to a new market on another continent, hence his absence. One time, Kara arrives to movie night to hear Lena almost shouting into her phone. Her tone is the kind Kara only heard once in all their time in Aincrad-- when she'd been on the verge of committing murder, against a player who had nearly poisoned Kara to death. Dark, menacing, and inhumanly cold. 

"Come anywhere near my company again, and I will slap you with enough lawsuits to keep you and your pathetic excuse for a firm underwater for the next thirty years. Do you understand me?" She barely pauses long enough for her victim to open their mouth before interrupting, her voice pitching even lower. "I said-- do. you. understand. I want to hear you say it."

Lena hasn't registered Kara's arrival yet, and so Kara shifts awkwardly as she waits, trying not to watch as Lena's lips twist into a cruel smirk. "Good boy." She ends the call shortly thereafter, and starts in surprise when she turns to find Kara standing in her foyer. "Kara! Gosh, you startled me!" She sounds like herself again, but Kara eyes her warily. "Is tonight a bad time? I can come back--" "Don't be ridiculous!" Lena beams, rolling her eyes. "Marital squabbles might be a bitch, but it'll take a lot more than that to keep us from movie night. What's on for tonight? Die Hard?" Before long, Kara is curled up against Lena's side on the couch, sharing a blanket as Bruce Willis yippee-ki-yays across the screen. The call lingers at the back of her mind, and she decides right then and there that if Lena's husband is someone who brings out that side of her.... he doesn't know Lena at all. Perhaps Kara's favorite part of their friendship is their party. It happens by accident-- Kara stumbles across her during a trial period of a new VR. She's an elf this time, and her username is Kieran, but her avatar still looks mostly like herself. "I didn't know you played," Kara says, scuffed her dwarven boot against the ground. She's a little hurt that Lena hasn't ever mentioned it. "I should have told you," Lena admits. "I'm sorry I didn't, but after what you told me about your time in SAO, I was worried if we connected in a game, I... I guess I worried I wouldn't measure up to her. It sounds really silly to say it out loud. I really cherish our friendship, Kara, and I was scared I might lose it if you spotted too many differences between us. Between me and her." Kara smiles, and throws her short, but strong arms around Lena and squeezes right. "Not possible." After that, they're inseperable in the VR world. They try new games together, and the nature of Lena's position grants Kara beta access to countless games still in development. They explore entire worlds together, and Kara finds that Lena needn't be worried at all. She is Lena. The Lena Kara loved in Aincrad didn't stray far from the template of her creator's personality and fighting style, and in VR Lena comes alive in a way she doesn't in the real world-- as though anything could top that. In VR Kara watches Lena lead raid parties with expert precision, sharp and intense but also warm and inviting. More than once Lena helps inexperienced players level up, and shares the secret spawn points for creatures that drop rare items. Kara misses Lena-in-Aincrad, misses what they shared together, but she loves this Lena, the whole of Lena, with her entire being. Eventually, they beta test ALO together, by virtue of the fact that Lena's husband headed the development team that produced the matrix for it. It's a world that rivals Aincrad in beauty and scale. Better yet, it allows magic use, and every race has the ability to fly. One day, they spend an afternoon simply flying through a rainstorm, dodging lightning bolts and collecting thunderbells to smith armor with. Somewhere between the rain on her skin and laughter that gets swallowed by thunder, Kara simply stops and watches as Lena loops into a tight corkscrew to snag an escaping ingot. Her grin is as bright as the lightning, and when their eyes meet Kara's chest tightens at the heated expectance that opens Lena's features into something intimately familiar. Before either of them can speak, the in-game alarm alerts them to the end of their scheduled session, Kara immediately wakes and rolls to her phone. I love you. She almost hits send, but the phone buzzes in her hand before her finger can tap the button. Not a bad way to spend the last day of beta, Lena texts, with pulsing dots following to warn of an incoming note. I think that might be my favorite quest so far. Catch you next rainstorm? Kara deletes her previous message. Launch Day is marked on my calendar. Can't wait. The pulsing dots appear and disappear several times before Lena's next message finally comes through. You're my favorite. Kara rolls over, clasping her phone to her pounding chest. As she drifts off to sleep, those three words sear themselves across the back of her eyelids. You're my favorite. --- "So when will you be back online?" Kara asks over the phone almost a month later. The ALO launch is coming up, and their standing date (it's not a date) looms in the back of Kara's mind. Across the line, Lena sighs. "I'm not sure." Lena's work has kept her busy since their night chasing lightning. They've barely spoken, let alone lunched or gamed. "Were still on for the ALO launch, though, right?" Silence answers her. In a rare moment of petulance, Kara pouts. "Lena, you promised." "Yeah," Lena breathes. "Yeah, you're right, I did. At this point it looks like I might be traveling that day, but I'll try to reschedule some things. I don't know how much time I can spare though." "That's okay!" Kara chirps, grabbing at the compromise with both hands. "I just want to see you. I miss you." "I miss you too, you have no idea." A rumble of voices on the other end cuts their time short. "Sorry, I have to go," Lena says. "But I'll do what I can, I promise." "Okay. See you then." From that night on, Kara counts down the days. When Launch Day dawns, Kara logs in immediately. She waits for hours, selecting an avatar that looks almost like herself. In fact it's  a dead ringer except for the white feathered wings that fold up snugly against her back, and unfurl between the slats of her armor. As she waits for Lena to log in, she experiments with her new wings (during beta, she'd chosen fairy wings), and revels in the power of every stroke. She feels the most like she did in Aincrad, and it feels like coming home. But as she waits, the faces who greet her aren't Lena's. She passes on joining other survivors for a commemorative hunt, even as the sun dips below the horizon, and in her heart she knows Lena won't make it. Still she waits. Just in case. When she finally logs out, Kara texts Lena, but sends only a frowning emoji. Then she turns it off and goes to sleep, determined to let whatever apology Lena sends sit unopened until she wakes. But no response is waiting for her when she gets up the next morning, and none comes for the entire week that follows. That week spreads to two, and then three. Kara's disappointment shifts to irritation when she assumes Lena is trying to avoid her after missing the launch, but then snaps to concern when even her calls go unanswered until her voicemail is too full to record any more. Something is wrong. She calls Lena's office, her assistant, sends countless emails, but gets nothing except a cagey brush off from Lena's assistant. When Kara goes to L-Corp herself, she's rebuffed at the door. "Orders came down from the top, Miss Danvers. You're no longer permitted in the building." "What? That's ridiculous! Lena wouldn't--" "You'll have to take that up with her, ma'am." "I'm TRYING." But to no avail. Kara gets nowhere, and is left bewildered and hurt and afraid for Lena who she can't quite believe would cut her out so abruptly. Alex doesn't have any advice to give her, except to be patient and keep trying. So all Kara can do is log in to ALO every night, and watch her friend list, praying that Lena will log in. She never does. Then, one night, Kara receives an anonymous message in her inbox. She doesn't know how a player could send an anonymous message, as the privacy on her inbox is set to friends only. Nevertheless, she opens it. "Meet me tomorrow night at 1am." It includes a National City address. She doesn't need Alex to tell her it's a bad idea. But her gut tells her it's about Lena-- maybe even Lena herself-- and so she goes to the location at the designated time with her heart in her throat. It's not Lena. Rather, it's her assistant, Jess. "Come with me," Jess tells her. Kara obeys, and after a furtive drive through the city, Jess leads her into a nondescript building that has more locked doors than Fort Knox. Finally, Jess swipes her security pass over the final sensor, and pushes into a room filled with medical equipment. For a moment, Kara sees her own hospital room, when she woke up from her SAO coma, filled with the same equipment. She's had this dream before. But the figure lying prone in the sterile bed isn't herself. It's Lena. "Oh my god." "She logged in the morning of the ALO launch," Jess informs her, her voice quiet. "She cleared her schedule for it. But she never woke up, and when we reviewed the game data, it never showed her syncing up to the game." Lena's features are slack inside the visor of the NervGear. When Kara takes her hand, her skin is cool, and waxy, like it isn't even human. But it is. Kara recognizes the scar on Lena's wrist, from a soldering accident when she was twelve. "I don't believe them," Jess murmurs. Kara blinks. "What?" "The new Nerv models are designed with multiple redundancies after the SAO incident. If she didn't connect, Lena would have woken up instantly." "Is it possible it could have been tampered with?" Jess shrugs. "Maybe. But the logistics of doing so without Lena noticing just aren't feasible." Kara regards her solemnly. "It sounds like you have an alternate theory." "It would be easier to alter the game data than tamper with the gear. Someone involved with the game's development would have easy access and ample opportunity." Someone involved in the game's development? Like... "Her husband?" "He's already assumed her seat on the board as interim chair. And he's already proposing changes Lena vetoed earlier this year. There enough members who agreed with Lena's veto that they've resisted him so far, but it won't be long before he wears them down." Rage burns low in Kara's belly. Bastard. Gritting her teeth, she meets Jess' gaze. The woman's face is well past angry-- she's exhausted, and at the end of her rope. It's clear that Kara is her last hail mary. "I'm going to lose my job the moment they find out I brought you here," Jess warns. "After that, I won't have any access. But I can't help her from here anyway." "You think she's trapped in the game," Kara surmises. Jess nods. "My guess is there's a backdoor that lets them control a small area of the game. To avoid detection by the moderating algorithms, they've probably built it into the context of the game-- an uncharted area that only becomes available after completing a legendary quest." Or clearing the final floor boss, Kara thinks bitterly. Her hand tightens on Lena's limp fingers. This is SAO all over again, except this time... This time, Lena is alone. "I've been searching every second I spend at home, but haven't found anything," Jess continues. "But I'm certain the answer to waking Lena up is in the game itself. That's why I reached out to you." Kara's head lifts sharply, surprised by the admission. Jess returns her gaze solemnly, her features hard. "If anyone can beat a broken game from the inside, it's you."

previous / next

[rcris123]

The wind is harsh; he can hear it in the twisting of the branches above. They found a tree perched on a ridge of this plateau, underneath which the soil cut abruptly, creating a wall that they decided to use as shelter for tonight. Wet and with the air cooling further as night fell they ended up knees to their chest and arms folded over each other to preserve warmth.

John kept coughing; reckons his lungs still got some water left in them – and frankly they ain’t got the time to pat the man rough between the shoulder blades to get him comfortable. And then he never asked further.

Arthur shielded his son, like he always did; the love that man bore for his child was undeniable and tender in a way few men had the courage to – but he doesn’t think they’re any kind of men... They’re on the fringes; never the norm, so maybe the outlaw lifestyle suited him and he should have thought of it earlier than Arthur collapsing in front of him.

That felt so long ago... The Molly-house is only a distant memory now, but thinking back he can still remember the smell of fluids in the sheets, the smoke, the alcohol... Some of them made couples and they’d bed each other sometimes. He couldn’t say he didn’t try it once. It was easy, available and not meant to last and they all knew it. Imagine whoever you want darlin’. And Sebastian’d lay back and close his eye, but before his eyes was a black screen: nothing. Pleasure could build but there was no one there; and nothing he really desired. Sex was just like alcohol; it numbed the loneliness. For a while.

He doesn’t know how those 5 years passed, but at the same time he wonders how he got the chance not to be stuck there until he would be useless and greying... How’d he got the chance to meet exactly Arthur, ‘cause there’s so much about him he can find no replacement for. Handsome, wounded outlaw and his beloved son, queer on top of it to somehow end up his partner.

Chest squeezed at the thought; of course he could hardly sleep, but eyes were closed. Hand draws tender circles over Arthur’s arm. Maybe it’s giving him tingles that he’s so close other men, but the way they’re all squeezed together for some form of warmth and comfort felt like a permission. And then they all knew he loved Arthur.

“I love you.” Just a whisper; it’s to give him courage. “Buck.” It’s how Arthur called him. Stubborn buck, when he thought that’s something that’d much rather describe the other than himself: hardy, agile, determined and with a certain pride that he wouldn’t admit ‘cause he thought of himself as lowrung and worthless.

Arthur shifted as if he heard and there’s that smile crawling on his lips. Sebastian pulls himself closer and feels the sweet nothings on his tongue, but that may just be too much-

 He wasn’t the first awake. Sean and Kieran seemed to have climbed up near the tree, inspecting the horizon for possible ways to take. Flat Iron Lake still glistened in the distance, the morning sun reflecting on its surface.

He reaches for Arthur; he’s there.

“Mornin’ Buck.” He sounded tender, but not worry free.

“Mornin’.” A lean in. “What you thinking about?”

“We should head East now, but on foot-”

“We just need to find the nearest town, and we’ll buy some horses from there.”

“I ain’t been this far south before...”

O’course... Sebastian did neither. He’s been stuck for most of his life in dusty Rhodes and the rest in Saint Denis, but Arthur was a traveler.

“I bet you’ve seen a lot of places you’ve never been to before.” Sebastian muses.

A chuckle, that by now sounds almost familiar: “You ain’t wrong about that.” He takes a deep breath in before he gets up. “We’re gonna get out of this one as well.”

Hand extends to Sebastian; he pulls himself up.

John is the last awake. He’s complaining about the throat bothering him and who can blame him – thou truly, he’s the only one speaking...

Bones don’t get stretched for long before they pick a route, courtesy of Kieran and Sean, who’d tried making heads or tails of this desert they found themselves in, and start marching. And marching they did. The heat wasn’t bad at first, only prickling at skin after about half an hour, but then blood started to run hot, then boil. Sun rules above them like some tyrant king, unrelenting, unforgiving. They don’t know how long they walked in a straight line until their trajectory changes to bee-lining from the shade of one shriveled tree to the next. Stops become more frequent. They ain’t got canteens with them. John’s feeling weak; collapses on the treetrunk after the first few. Arthur’s bent with his hands resting on his knees, urging Isaac to sit down next to John.

They don’t have water with them. Alcohol will make them thirsty and delirious. And he’s starting to doubt the words he said this morning.

They decide to wait for evening; march at night. They throw away good alcohol so that him and Sean could try and look for some water to fetch. Kieran wanted to help, but he’s still got that injured hand – a whole chuck of flesh taken out of it. Well one could argue Sebastian’s been shot in the leg, but he’s hoping they forgot that.

“Here.” He offers Isaac the bottle first and the boy gulps it down without breathing. They found a spring not that far from here.

“Thank it easy, kid or your lungs’s gonna catch fire.” Arthur warns and Isaac takes the bottle from his mouth and passes it to his father. “Thank you.”

Arthur drinks slowly, then hands the rest to Sebastian:

“I had my fill at the spring.”

“Where’s this spring, we need these refilled.”

“I’ll go-”

“You need to rest yourself. Lookit you.” Sebastian takes a breath in at that. “You’re all purple under the eyes; I’ll go.”

“I can come too.” Isaac offers.

The sun ain’t as fierce now as it’s starting to set and golden hues paint the landscape. If it weren’t for their predicament it’d almost be pretty. He does rest; he has to trust Arthur. He trusts him, in fact; he’s a more than capable man.

Father and son return with the bottles filled and they go on their march yet again. Maybe they’re lost souls in purgatory.

Sebastian honestly had no idea what to expect from this ‘Blackwater mission’, Arthur told him it was foolish, and maybe he wasn’t a planner, but he had experience – Sebastian did not, and his optimism faded to dread, then a sort of hollow acceptance as if Death was trailing just slightly behind them on a pale horse waiting for them to drop. One by one...

Dawn comes. All their boots are cream from dust, legs are sore and he can only speak for himself but the one still healing’s stiff and throbbing with pain. They find themselves a tree and fall under it, huddled like the night before. No incentive needed, they fall asleep each as they manage.

When he opens his eyes for a moment to shift his position he sees Sean completely fallen over in Kieran’s lap and John more or less leaning against him. Isaac is clinging to Arthur and the man’s body looks so still it feels lifeless. In his exhaustion fueled daze he thinks of something he shouldn’t and heart squeezes in his chest. He jerks with eyes fully open.

They’re breathing...

He doesn’t remember when he falls back asleep; his eyelids are always heavy and the hunger in his stomach keeps growling.

Flies wake him up in the afternoon; it smells like corpse.

He jolts awake again:

“Jesus!” John’s thrown off and goes to cover his face before he falls to lean on something else.

Sebastian quickly rushes to his feet; he’s shaking. He can’t help but smell his clothes: just sweat, pungent, disgusting, but it’s just sweat. He turns to the rest. They’re all slowly waking; Isaac’s lifting his head in confusion.

Arthur’s eyes are closed, his breathing rapid, precipitated.

John catches him staring and shoves the man awake. Wind’s knocked out of him as he lands on one arm and starts coughing lightly.

That glare Arthur gives is tired.

“Maybe we should be eating something...” Kieran prompts.

They got some cans left. They chow them down at lightning speed, but Sean doesn’t look too fresh after all that food taken on an empty stomach that fast.

And they start crawling again. Tonight there’s no moon. Arthur’s last, Sean first.

The desert keeps on going and Flat Iron Lake’s left the view.

Tree to tree their journey takes them, further inland. The wind is harsher there; and maybe he’s going delirious thinking this is feeling like a descend to Hell. He’s losing; they’re all losing. They’re all losing because he’s a bad luck charm; karma’s best contender for misfortune. Panic boils through his system, steps drag, stumble, and he feels his lungs fill up with dust.

What the fuck is this dread? Does it belong to him? Why? Why now all of a sudden, just because one job went bad – Oh no and he’s reminded of Dutch now. He’s an outlaw now, ain’t he?... He’s an outlaw; he ain’t the man he was, but what man was he to begin with. What man was he supposed to be or become if it weren’t for one fateful encounter.

Should he owe everything to Arthur?... That ain’t how things work. He’s-

 He’s lost.

And he’s dragging Arthur in with him and it’s smelling like death-

He eats dust falling on his face. The entire line of people stop to gawk. Isaac rushes to his side first to help him up; Arthur follows.

“I’m fine...” he spits dirt out, pushes himself up only to find himself wanting to fall back in Arthur’s arms. He only gives the man a look; he probably looks pitiful now, wiping wet sand from his lips. It crunches between his teeth.

“C’mon up.” Arthur offers him a hand and heaves as he strung Sebastian up. “Walk with me...”

Sean starts walking again, and his hand slips into the other’s and squeezes it tight. The march goes on; Isaac in front between them, and the two of them at the rear, arms dangling from each other as they walked.

He didn’t notice at first, Arthur’s palm’s burning-

“Arthur...”

He knows: “It’s just the heat. Heatstroke...”

And the bulletwound... His leg won’t give him peace, he can’t imagine how Arthur’s repeatedly abused shoulder would feel like... And he wants to believe him, although deep within himself he knows the man is lying; he’s alright for everyone else’s sake – he-

“I know you.”

Arthur’s hand squeezes his own hard; Sebastian reciprocates the gesture:

“It ain’t gonna get much worse. I promise.”

Isaac whips his head around:

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, Isaac.”

“Don’t lie to me. Not now.”

“I ain’t trying to lie...” Arthur speaks. “I’m trying to keep hopeful.”

“Okay...” the boy says, but ain’t in the least hopeful...

 They end their march near sunrise; they found a road. If they kept to it they might just reach some form of civilization. But rest came first.

It was definitely fever when Arthur rested his head on Sebastian’s shoulder; even his breath came out hot. Isaac curled next to them.

And throughout the day it got worse- bouts of cough started up, wheezing.

“Are you sleeping?” Sebastian whispers to him.

“No...”

“We’re getting you to the nearest docto-”

Arthur holds him firm: “At night...”

But he can’t watch him like this; not with the thoughts he’s been having lately. He swipes a few strands of hair out of Arthur’s face and the man leans into the touch like he’s been starved.

“We can’t let the kid get sick...” Arthur says, trying to suppress another cough.

A kiss to the temple: “Never, Buck.”

He feels Arthur’s cheeks rise against his clothes: “I like it when you call me that...”

Well he can’t deny that’s a truly special pet name: “Me too...”

A moment’s silence. Breaths rise and fall in sync after a short while. Eyes close and he adjusts his position against the tree, arm drawing Arthur closer in; in turn the man climbs a leg over his own; comfortable. They need as much rest as they can get.

And it was obvious they weren’t going to get much of it...

Arthur startles Isaac awake with his coughing, and the boy goes to shake him awake but there ain’t no use: man’s gotta cough a lung out first.

Sebastian strings himself and the man up with a heave: “We’re getting you to a doctor-”

John, Sean, Kieran were all awake by the time as well staring at the pair of them as if their friend’s been given a death sentence. And maybe that was correct but he ain’t letting Arthur lose the fight just yet.

The walk is painful; Arthur is heavy in his arms and his shot leg is screaming with every movement. They were allowed no rest, but he’s starting to understand that it ain’t like them to just give up. They are stubborn men. And they have a son to look after.

Isaac walked first behind them; the rest followed.

Then Isaac walked ahead.

It was past midday at this point, the heat was slowly simmering down, but it wasn’t enough for them; bodies have been pushed quite beyond what they could; they haven’t eaten, got any good rest or significant break. And now... Isaac’s walk was brisk; stiff from all the sore muscles, but it felt like he was putting all the energy he had left into this, as if there truly was a town just near of here.

 But there wasn’t.

They walked, and walked some more; Arthur took to his own legs, dragging them through the dust, one hand into his own. And Isaac was still ahead, the faintest sniff escaped him sometimes, but the boy wouldn’t turn when his father called out to him. And then they walked some more.

Heat produced sound at this point. Sebastian couldn’t feel his leg; it grew completely numb with pain. And Arthur looked worse: hair drenched in his own sweat, skin drained of color, while his cheeks and nose reddened to a concerning color. And still man had the strength to keep up the pace, following behind Isaac intently, loyally.

The world started to grow dim – and they kept on walking. The boy kept on walking ahead, stiff, limping from exhaustion, and only the boy existed outside themselves. John, Kieran, Sean faded to background noise. Arthur’s huffing, his own pain and Isaac’s silhouette became all that he knew, besides the inertia of moving his feet.

Any moment now, he feels the pale rider’s going to swoop in and mercifully depart them. Two queer men, their son and the fortune they never got to taste. What’s he come to; it’s almost beautiful in its tragedy.

He’s already convinced himself the sound of hooves is that impending doom – but it’s merely another traveler-

Isaac seems to spring to life the moment the man comes into view; moves to stand directly in front of the rider.

“Isaac-” Father’s voice is lacking a certain sternness.

“Can I buy your horse, mister?” Isaac sounds terribly polite for how his voice was shaking.

“No. Get away from here, brat-”

Man’s eyes peel open when the boy pulls out his revolver, the other hand swooping in to grab the reins.

“I’ll buy your horse, mister. 100 dollars.”

“Isa-” but John steps in, his own gun raised:

“Hand the boy the horse, it ain’t worth your life.”

Man slowly raises his hands and dismounts. Isaac reaches in his pockets and hands the man the promised money.

“Now get going!” John’s tone still retained its broken highpitched squeal. Traveler stands there for a moment then the feller books it.

Arthur takes from his side:

“The hell is wrong with you-”

“You need a horse. You’re sick!” Son defends his choice.

“You ain’t no outlaw! I ain’t raised you an outlaw-”

“What other choice did I have!? Did we have!”

Arthur’s jaws clench shut followed by a deep inhale, and silence falls.

“Get in the saddle and let’s go... Please...” Isaac begs at this point, tugs Arthur’s sleeve. “Pa...”

Man sits there a while, until his chest vibrates under a cough he’s trying to suppress. Son urges his father one more time and this time he gives in.

Isaac mounts first with the man on the back of the horse.

“Make sure you don’t forget us here.” Sean decides to butt in as Isaac spares one more glance at the people he leaves behind, before spurring the horse maybe a bit too harshly.

He holds his breath watching them take the road into the night. He can feel his heart thumping against his ribs, but the ache is only noticeable when he finally exhales. Head bows and he’s waiting for his thoughts to collect. They’ll be fine he’s trying to tell himself.

And it’s only now that he feels completely exhausted, weak and feeble. Posture slouches and his knee trembles from the pain of having to still stand up.

“Hey... Uhm you ain’t lookin’ that good, Sebastian.” Kieran’s voice is meek as usual.

“Guess I ain’t...” There’s no tree to lean upon so he just ends up laying on the ground with a huff.

“What a mess...” John utters, skipping a stone out of frustration.

“Guess it could have gone worse.” Sean argues, flopping down beside Sebastian. “And maybe our luck’s turning.”

Silence.

Then John’s voice pitches in again: “I... wonder if Jack’s gonna end up like that...”

“Stickin’ up for you? No chance.” Sean mocks.

“Hey-”

“Let the man talk.” Sebastian grunts; it felt like all John was being taken for was a buffoon with half a brain, even in his most sincere moments.

He’s almost taken aback: “Thank you, Sebastian...”

“Ain’t... always a straightforward way of being a father...” Sebastian admits.

“How can I know? All I ever saw was Arthur and his kid. He was there the day I joined, you know. A toddler running around this massive man in his 20’s that had no fucking clue how to deal with me and him at the same time.” John cracks a faint smile. “I probably should have turned out much better... I ain’t even fully knowin’ what I was trying to prove. I ain’t Arthur. I ain’t some golden boy, some father of the year or the other...”

“But you love the kid, don’t you?”

“Of course! I mean... It’s still weird thinking he’s mine. But he’s five already... But he’s got everyone else looking out for him! I ain’t though he’d be needing me.” Then, after one short pause, John’s expression sours, lips curling in on themselves: “Arthur ain’t really got someone like that did he?... Like, he raised that boy alone, before the gang really got that big-... Shit.” Man rubs his chin.

“It ain’t your fault.” Sebastian tries his best to be reassuring.

“At this point who even knows whose fault it is...”

Silence again; he doesn’t know how to reply to that; he’s empty of any good words and he really ain’t the man to be giving advice...

“You know,” John speaks up again. “You ain’t a bad man, Sebastian.”

A few blinks; it takes him a while to answer: “Thank you...”

“I...” A huff. “Arthur’s really thinking about you, you know? He-” John purses his lips.

Eyebrows furrow: “What?”

“I asked him a dumb question once; that’s all...”

 They somehow fell asleep when they hear what sounds like a two horse wagon racing their way. Sean is first up, reaching for his gun.

“It’s Isaac!” the boy shrieks pulling hard on the reins.

They all exhale, but a whole wagon feels-

“Where’d you get that?” Sebastian dares ask and hopes he’s soft.

“I bought it.” Isaac defends, apologetically this time.

“How is he?...” Kieran’s the first to ask; not because it wasn’t on his mind as well?

“In a hotel room. They don’t have a doctor in town. Said we gotta head to Calport, then take a boat to Saint Denis.”

“Jesus...”

“We gotta-” Isaac sighs as if trying to hold something in. “I’m so sorry. Seb...”

Sebastian climbs up next to him on the driver’s seat, picks the reins and tries a smile.

Isaac gives him directions as he drives, but otherwise keeps the conversation quiet. In about half an hour they find themselves in a small town that, with its dusty roads and dried up buildings, reminded him of Rhodes.

The hotel wasn’t fancy: more or less crumbling down; stairs creaking under his boots. The room was sparse and they find Arthur sitting on the side of the bed, leaning over his knees, propped in his elbows. Head was low and hair looked sticky. Isaac wasted no time sitting beside his father, a hand rubbing between his shoulders after an awkward stutter.

Arthur bends his head towards his chest further as he coughs.

Sebastian limps to join them; the rest of the posse flooding in after him.

“So, uh... what now?” Kieran had enough confidence to speak up.

John pinned his arms on his hips, Sean scratched his chin; so it was up to them... And he doesn’t have the strength to ask anything of Arthur, but he can’t find it in himself to say anything either – think of anything either. He’s feeling sore and numb and simply wants to revel in the company of those he holds dear and he so wants to cling to this feeling of home he’s barely gained an appreciation for.

“Guess we need rest for tonight.” Arthur speaks up. “And tomorrow we head out...”

“In that case we better get ourselves some provisions; everythin’ we had was on them horses.” Sean says. “Isaac would you come with me?”

“Let the kid rest.” John intervened.

“No, I want to come...” Arthur’s son knew very well what people intended.

“I’m coming too.” Said Kieran.

“Guess I’ll be joining then...” John got the hint; the rest were already heading out. “Rest up, a’right, Arthur?”

Man just scoffs and the moment John turns his back Sebastian presses his head onto Arthur’s shoulder, with one hand blindly finding the other’s. And Arthur softens under touch; covers his mouth when another cough comes.

“Hang in there, cowboy...” he finds himself saying.

“Don’t intend on dying just yet.” Arthur’s conviction strengthened him, strengthened the grip he had on his hand.

“I fear of getting lost again.”

“I ain’t letting you.” Another cough.

“Can’t let you bear all that alone either.”

“I know... Just... what am I supposed to do? There ain’t no stopping-” Thumbs rub over Arthur’s palm in gentle, calm strokes. “Hosea died...” Arthur confesses, leaning his head further onto his own. “He said he’s gonna take care of us. All of us.”

“You ain’t him to take that responsibility.”

“They’re my family, Sebastian.”

“I know...” He tried to be comforting, but words don’t quite help him today do they... “And you surely ain’t alone.” Head nudges itself further into Arthur. “Never alone.”

Arthur swings himself around, catching Sebastian in a secure embrace and holding the other up to his chest. He straddles the man’s lap and his arms find themselves on Arthur’s back. Tight; it’s a pleasant reassuring pressure; he can feel his heart drum against his chest.

“Neither are you.” Arthur utters, avoiding pressing his face to Sebastian’s; man’s breathing is wheezed and heavy.

There’s little hope for them, but they can’t just stop...

 They have somehow fallen asleep, limbs tangled and unwilling to let go of one another, but Arthur’s convulsive cough jerk him awake. His skin is sticky from sweat and skin burning from fever. He doesn’t seem awake.

But Isaac was. Boy was looking at the way his father suffered from a rag he set for himself at the foot of the shoddy bet: two eyes peering over the thin metal frame, watching in horror. The man who raised him grew weaker and weaker under his eyes, and under Sebastian’s a well; he’s seen this man on the brink of death a couple of times now already.

The cough grows increasingly violent, man having trouble getting any air in. He doesn’t know how he fumbled, but Sebastian tried his best to prop the man in a sitting position, waiting for the bout to pass.

Arthur was fully awake at this point, caught Isaac looking at them.

“You-... Should eat something, Pa.”

“Yeah...” Arthur struggles to get a grip on his posture, leans over the side of the bed; staggers up. Sebastian finds himself following suit. “Did you get anything?”

“Yeah. John and Sean are still downstairs at the saloon.” Isaac stands up. “Do... you want me to come with you?”

“Always, kid.”

The boy follows intently, sticking close to Arthur as if there was something he wants to atone for. And Arthur ain’t dumb enough not to notice the changed demeanor of his son:

“You okay there, Isaac?”

“... How are you feeling?”

Now, with an arm outstretched Arthur waits for his son to descend in front of him, hand finding its way on the boy’s back.

“Better.” It’s a lie; Sebastian knows. “A bed and some proper sleep is all this ol’ man was needin’.”

Boy squints his eyes, but bows his head and shakes it.

“Don’t... lie to me, Pa.”

Arthur stops and puts both hands on Isaac’s shoulders.

“Just... don’t lie to me, okay? You’re all I have-” Boy barely stifles a sob. “Just tell me what I can do- I can help. Let me help-” Arthur pulls the boy to his chest, shushing and Isaac clings to the man’s clothing: “Let me help...”

But not even Sebastian knew how to help and he’s afraid Arthur ain’t knowing either...

The hug don’t last the chatter from downstairs forces the men apart; it ain’t private and they ain’t regular. He descends last, Isaac by his side, both of them seemingly of the same mind, taking care their Arthur don’t stumble.

The moment they’re downstairs, John, Sean and Kieran turn their heads their way. Sean lifts a glass: “English!” And once they’ve made their way to the table he cheers: “Ye’r finally awake!”

“Feelin’ any better?” Kieran chimes in, leaning over the table, but Isaac seems discomforted by the question. “I-I ain’t meaning to say you-”

Arthur waves a hand: “Peachy. Seen much worse.” Man looks over at John, then back at everyone else: “You all ‘kay?”

“Sure! Asked ‘round town for some routes, fastest way back to Saint Denis.” Sean explains. “Said there’s a bigger town called Callport ‘bout a day or two from here. And we should be able to take a boat ‘cross the Lannahachee from there.”

“And we bought a wagon.” John mentions, before averting his gaze-

“Tell’em John! Tell‘em what happened.”

The man groans at that: “Jim! Name’s Jim Millston.”

“You heard that lads, Millston.”

“Shut up!”

But that had Arthur chuckling. And in the mids of this, Sebastian didn’t pay attention that the boy took off and ordered them food.

“Now tell’em what Kieran said when asked ‘bout his name.” Sean kept on.

“Not this again...” Kieran commented. “What was I s‘possed to say!?”

“Kieran Duffy.” John said almost irritated. “They ain’t knowing you.”

“And what did he say?” Arthur’s looking cheered up by all this.

“Ugh- Said I ain’t got any.” Kieran finally caved in. “Said my parents died before they could give me one.”

Arthur chuckles: “Maybe you’d make a good dime novelist.”

“Nah, I’m a horse boy, that’s all.”

Isaac places them two plates of food and Arthur thanks, then asks the kid to take a seat beside him. He wastes no time taking a bite, showing his son appreciation for the gesture. He can still hear the subtle coughs that come with the first few bites.

The rest of the dinner is eaten in silence; the food doesn’t taste good, nor bad; it’s bland, the meat is dry and stringy and the porridge sticks to the corners of his mouth. But he downs it with the help of a pint of beer. Arthur gulps his drink in one go.

“So we got a wagon...” Arthur starts and he ain’t exactly content with the predicament he’s just been put in without his choice. Sebastian liked to think he knew the man enough to know he’d protest vulnerability ‘cause it’s the face of helplessness – and it ain’t like Sebastian ain’t just the same in that regard. “We can already leave for Callport. It ain’t like we got much with us.”

“I don’t think so.” John’s the first to protest.

“Why?”

“ ‘cause you’re... Well...”

“The sooner we get back to camp the better.”

It’s a logic he can’t argue with.

“You ain’t fully rested yet-”

“ ‘course I ain’t.” Arthur’s struggling to raise his voice and at the same time fighting to keep the conversation civil. He takes a look at his son: “We ain’t knowin’ how this is gonna go...” Fear starts to glisten in the boy’s eyes and Sebastian puts a hand on him.

“He needs a doctor that’s all.” He intervenes, trying to steady it; not his best suit thou.

“Is it too much to wait for tomorrow?” Isaac asks.

“We could get some more supplies, ask the locals about things.” Kieran chimes in. “We got some food. A-And I can probably ask around for some cough medicine.”

Arthur just pursed his lips; a stifled cough:

“I need to stretch my legs...”

Isaac follows in an instant; Sebastian looks at the lot of them, all with sour faces, bows his head and excuses himself as if they were some strangers...

Outside Arthur’s leaned on the wall with his son next to him, trying his best not to worry the boy further. It was all so entirely messy, dissonant, trying to keep up with a reality that no longer existed if ever. They didn’t know what to do – they don’t. Stuck and they keep pushing, hoping the wall will break and reveal some hope after it all, but even that seemed like some lofty ideal, dangled before them, a dancing shadow on the wall. It’s not real.

“I ain’t dead. Or dying.” Arthur sighs and starts walking. “Just caught something when I dragged Marston out of the water. I’ll live through it.”

“Don’t expect anything less from you.” Sebastian says and finally there’s a smile.

“I’m just worried.” Isaac counters, trotting up between them. “There’s been a lot lately... Hosea-”

“I miss him too, kid...” Arthur confesses. “But I ain’t letting no one get there again.”

“Does that include you, thou?” Isaac wasn’t convinced; fear ran deep.

“I really do hope so.”

“We’re trying our best.” Sebastian adds.

“And I ain’t intending on leaving you alone like this.” Arthur stresses the words. “Both o’ you.” A sigh: “But enough talk ‘bout all that. I just need to feel a lil’ bit human again, not like some medical example.”

Putting it like that really gave a sense of perspective about the ordeal; Arthur who seemed to have held up this gang for many years looked about to crumble now, and it ain’t that worry ain’t natural, but how’s someone whose only worth seemed to be his usefulness supposed to feel when they all see him become fragile. That sentiment there’s one that he’s very familiar with: one thing and that one thing is me, all of me. Sebastian liked men, and he only allowed himself to be that for five entire years and it never crossed his mind that he could just saddle up and ride out west; become a cowboy and be himself, queer and all... He’s still feeling like a shell, and everything else like some reality he ain’t truly a part of.

But he got no choice but to fight.

Hand in hand; it’s real, and it ain’t slipping through, feverish and sweaty as that other palm felt on his.

Isaac’s been doing thinking this entire time: “Well I saw an interesting place if you want to check it out. Some abandoned ranch house not far from the town in a big corn field.”

“Lead the way then.”

The stalks could be seen from the edge of town; it was a little ways away from there; the lights of the houses barely touching the field. Wind whistled through making it resemble something out of a ghost story. It’s a wonder that the lantern he pulls out is still working after having been soaked through that night, then left unused for the next couple of days.

He takes on ahead; and he probably shouldn’t admit that his hand started to shake lightly. It felt more and more like something out of a nightmare of his, but Isaac finds his way right beside him. There was something daring in that boy’s eyes, and that might just give him some courage too.

There’s nothing in the cornfield. The house is indeed empty and beside being dusty to the point that it crunched under their boots it was clean.

“Oh?” Isaac darts from his side and proceeds to pick up a guitar that was lying in the corner. “Wished I asked Javier how to teach me to play one.” He tries a strum.

Sebastian puts the lantern down and Arthur finds his place on the edge of the bed; it creaks.

“I used to know how to play one he says.” He says.

“Really?” Boy lights up and hands him the instrument. “Think you can try and play something?”

“I can’t promise anything.”

Isaac flops next to his father: “Doesn’t matter; it’s still music.”

Obliged. Sebastian sits down, tries finding a comfortable pose; lips quirk as he’s trying to remember a song. Nothing. Crickets chirp outside. Still nothing. A deep inhale. Okay. He takes it from the gravest note to the highest, playing one by one then a strum down. That sounded like a tune. He repeats it a few times, eyes glued to the chords before he lifts them up.

Arthur’s eyes then; he can’t help not smiling. They ain’t been that bright or tender in quite a while; he’s starting to understand the meaning of tonight: they gotta be sweet to take away some of the bitterness that’s drenched them. Sebastian keeps on strumming.

Isaac lays his head down, closes his eyes: “It’s just like when we first met. The church remember?”

“Mhm...”

“I didn’t get it... but... Pa?” Arthur turns to look. “Did you always know?”

“I ain’t the right one to be asking these questions.” Arthur chuckles, turns into a cough at the end. “I’m a fool all things considered.”

“Well you ain’t the biggest fool.” Sebastian has to laugh; that felt like a jab at John honestly. “But did you know, Pa?”

“Well...” a scratch of the beard. “I liked him. Had a kind face.”

Hand’s placed on the guitar: “Don’t make me want to kiss you.”

“No chance with the kid watchin’.” Arthur jokes, but he’s soon cut by a protesting Isaac.

“I liked you too, Arthur.” He confesses. “You intrigued me.” He lays the guitar down. “And I guess I ain’t done discovering you.”

Arthur bows his head with a smile, while Isaac looks at the both as if this is his first time hearing a love confession.

 Morning came without them paying it much notice; they returned to the hotel sure, but after that the order of events blurred. They were tired. And so sun found the bundled in a pile in a single bed. It wasn’t comfortable, his left arm was filled with static, but he’d trade nothing else for the warmth in his chest. He slips away enough to be able to stand up and lean over: a kiss on Arthur’s jaw, just beneath the ear. A few more until he wakes.

“I love you too.” Instead of ‘good morning’ because Arthur doesn’t return the kisses; caution is better, and still that manages to make his heart expand between his ribs, pulsate pleasantly.

“I’ll smother you with mine.” Sebastian coos with a thin smile on his lips; one more.

He loves the man.

Isaac tosses to the other side with a groan. And he loves the family they’ve somehow been  blessed to be.

Setting out felt like they were forgetting something, but all they had was on their person and a crate of provisions in the wagon. Sean jumped front, but John drove and the Irishman didn’t quite protest about it yet. But even with this promise of a new day, maybe a new start and new luck, they all still knew Arthur ran the fever.

And the fever only grew; so did the cough. Of course, Isaac took notice of the man’s growing sluggishness, the wheezing of his breath; the boy started remembering how he got treated for influenza when he was younger. Onion syrup, chicken broth and cold rubs with camphor. And sweating, lots of sweating.

“You’d bundle me up in some old furs and tell me to stay put. You gave me your old journals and I’d scribble in them.” Isaac recounts with fondness.

Arthur sighs: “They all got burned down last winter with that fire business up North-”

“Yeah I remember... But I can always try and make new ones. I know I ain’t much of an artist.”

A chuckle, a ruffle of untamed hair: “Always aiming to please, ain’t ya?”

Sean eavesdropped on the conversation: “You know my Ma’ always made me Elderberry blossom tea to get rid of the fever. And willow bark, grinded to powder with a bit of warm milk to slide down the throat.”

“My parents used Turpentine and lard for colds.” Kieran adds. “Rubbed all over the chest. The smell was awful. I would get sick from it.”

“Wasn’t you real young when your parents died?” Arthur asks.

“Yeah. Cholera.”

“Christ! What a way to go.” Sean blurts out.

“Don’t make it worse.” John intervenes.

“Do ya ever let up, Marston?”

“The willow bark might get handy if we ever find any around.” Sebastian rubs the back of his neck in thought; it’s getting really hot.

“Streams should have some form o’ willow growing there.” Kieran says, then rubs his beard. “Wait... Ain’t hair tonic using camphor? You know the one that you rub in ye’r hair.”

Arthur muses, pursing his lips like he always did when he was unsure: “I guess... I still hear the best medicine’s whiskey.”

“That’s for pain, not fevers.” Sebastian counters; Kieran was rummaging his satchel.

Arthur scoffs then John’s voice picks up: “Listen to your man, Morgan.”

“Shut up.” The man in questions calls back only mildly offended. Kieran had pulled out a bottle of something and was looking on the back of it with squinted eyes.

“What you found there?” Sebastian asks.

“Uhh some horse stimulant.” Kieran chews on his lips: “Yup. It has camphor. Reduces pain and cools them down.”

“You want me rubbed in horse stimulant now?” Arthur protests, and a cough builds up behind his words.

“It’s all we got.”

“It ain’t that bad. It’s gonna go down soon enough.”

Wishful thinking.

The cough continued. The heat outside ain’t helping either; they were all sweaty. Kieran was driving now and john climbed in the back, offered them some water to rub on the back of their necks to cool off, but even so Arthur seemed to heave as if he ain’t got air to breath. Skin burned like a heated oil lamp.

“Kieran, can I get that horse stimulant.”

“Sure-”

“Sebastian...” Arthur was on the verge of protesting.

“It’s gonna cool you off.” He don’t wanna say that if he keeps running this fever for the next day he’s probably a goner.

“I don’t like this...”

“I know.” Sebastian didn’t like it much either.

Still, when he asked Arthur to unbutton his shirt, man obliged. John turned his entire body so he wouldn’t look at them. Sebastian poured the oily substance on his right hand and stuck it underneath the other’s shirt; the smell stung in his nostrils; the rubs are hardy, firm, making even a man as big as Arthur sway under the motion.

Hand retracts: “You know. I ain’t talked lot about Lily...” He pours some more stimulant on his hands. “She got sick a lot when she was young.”

“I’m sorry to hear that...” Arthur says; Isaac keeps quiet.

Palms rub together and he motions for Arthur to lean in for him to rub the thing over his chest. Same firm rubs, round the neck and down the burning chest:

“I was so scared for her. But she’s always been a fighter.”

The smell makes Arthur cough, but he keeps up the conversation: “Don’t doubt it.”

“Myra- Her momma would rub her down with this or something like that. The smell hung around the entire house. I could almost taste it.” The moment he’s done he buttons up Arthur’s shirt. “And when she’d be cooking, or sleeping I’d be the one to rub it on. I kept massaging a while after and she fell right back to sleep...” They’re fond memories, even if they sting now.

“You’re a great father-”

“No, I-” he wants to deflect that.

“They ain’t gonna rob you of it no more.” Despite the cough that shook his body Arthur’s arms are steady, containing, his palms like hot irons, especially in this blazing heat; he ends up easing into it.

John peeked over his shoulder at them: “I’m sorry you had to lose a child, Sebastian...”

Head simply bobs down, and Arthur goes cough inside his fist with wet heaves. It’s silence for a while, then the coughs start up again, more feverishly and the man is forced to bed over. Isaac perks up, but stays pinned to the spot- John holds the boy’s shoulders.

Arthur waves a hand: “I’m fine. I’m-” another bout, just as violent. He heaves. “Just the goddamn smell. Christ’alive...” Some more drown out coughs. “I’m fine...” He leans his head against the sides and he’s given an extra coat to let that camphor work its magic.

 Sebastian can’t get sleep, not even as night falls. Everyone else seems to have gone numb to the sound of Arthur coughing. It sounds worse than it did before, but at least the temperature is steady. The sick didn’t get much sleep either, heaving and covering his mouth for the next fit.

Man looks at his hand, then up at Sebastian. Heart stings, and when he gets to look at what the cough left behind it sinks. Blood...

They wasted too much time...