#< im jesting hes small but not That small. unless....

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

the ultimate Creechur....

[forever-rogue]

hi! if requests are open for bucky, i like the concept of him being unsure of himself with reader (not a superhero/avenger, maybe just a mutual friend) and pining after them compared to how easy it was to get dates in the 40s. thank you!

tfatws revived my love for bucky im not ashamed

A/N: tfatws has definitely done the same for me! no shame whatsoever!

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You tore your gaze off of the television before you turned to look at Bucky. His blue eyed stare was trained on you, intense and unwavering. Sometimes it had managed to unnerve you, but you’d gotten used to it over the year you’d known him. He was more than just silent...he was calculating, but it never felt wrong. Waving your hand in front of his face you made a small sound to get his attention. 

“Bucky?” you whispered his name softly and that seemed to snap him back into attention as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Even in the dim lighting of the room you could see that a warm flush of red had crept up in his cheeks, “everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, more at himself than anything else, a self-annoyed look crossing his features, “spaced out for a minute. What were you saying?”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” you couldn’t help but laugh at him, watching his features soften when he realized you weren’t going to chastise him for zoning out, “I for one was watching the movie, which is more than I can say for you - you should love the Hobbit if you actually read the book when it first came out. And these movies are actually good. Pay attention, Bucky!”

You grabbed one of the pillows off of your couch and lobbed it at his head; but he was quicker, reflexes still sharp and honed after all this time. The corners of his mouth pulled into a smirk as he held the pillow before determining whether or not to throw it back at you. Immediately sensing what he was doing, you shook your head and jumped up, ducking behind the couch.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart, why are you hiding?” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as you peeked up at him. The nickname rolled easily off his tongue as it caused a shudder to run down your spine. You knew it meant nothing, that it was just something he tended to call people; it was definitely just a thing. It was nothing particularly about you or targeted at you but you couldn’t help but pause. You knew that you wouldn’t have minded if he called you that intentionally. But that could never, ever happen. This was Bucky after all and you were just...you.

“I know your game, Barnes,” you grinned at him, deciding to let the nickname slide, “I’ll call it a truce and we can go to your favorite place to get some dinner. I’ll pay! I’m waving my proverbial white flag.”

“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse,” he set the pillow back down on the couch as he stood up and raised his hands in surrender. Slowly you raised to your full height, but kept a wary eye on your best friend, “I keep my promises, you know that.”

“Fine,” you agreed as you grinned at him. Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat as he looked you over and he felt his knees go weak momentarily. He could stare at your smile for hours, “get your jacket and let’s go old man.”

He scoffed in jest as you grabbed your shoulders and jacket off the coat rock and motioned for him to follow, “I’m not that old-”

“106? Isn’t that old?” you raised an eyebrow, barely able to contain your giggles as he rolled his eyes dramatically, “just kidding, Bucky. You know I just love teasing you.”

“I am in my 30s,..technically, thank you very much,” he insisted as he slipped on his shoes and you handed him the leather jacket, “don’t push your luck, kid.”

“See,” you grabbed the keys and he opened the door, ushering you out with a hand on the small of your back, “I swear Bucky Barnes, you’ve been an old man since you were a kid. Now let’s go! There’s pancakes with my name on them waiting.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Dinner with Bucky was easy...then again, everything with Bucky was easy. Every time you were with him, things just felt natural and normal, conversation and everything flowed freely. You’d met Bucky completely by chance, running into him, quite literally, on the street as you walked out of your favorite coffee shop and proceeded to spill coffee over both of you. He’d been apologetic, claiming it was his fault, but you’d been insistent that it was yours. One thing had led to another and soon enough you became inseparable friends. 

Much to his surprise, and delight, you’d never treated Bucky as anything but...Bucky. That’s how you’d met him and that’s all he was to you. Bucky. Of course, he was much more than a friend, at least in your mind, but you weren’t about to divulge that little piece of information. At least not yet. Maybe one day...or not. Probably not. No. You weren’t about to make a fool out of yourself and confess your feelings for a man that saw you as nothing but a friend.

Bucky, always alert and cunning, had noticed you’d become quiet throughout dinner as you both ate in silence. Normally he wouldn’t question it, but he knew your tells and could easily read you by this point and knew that something was up. 

“What?” he gently nudged your foot with his and you snapped back into attention as you looked at him, “you’re awfully deep in thought for someone that just wanted some pancakes.” 

“It’s nothing,” you insisted nervously, swallowing your bite down and clearing your throat, “just...tired?”

“Mhmm,” he wasn’t going to push you, know you’d come around eventually, “whatever you say, sweetheart.”

There it was again, and you felt a warmth flush over your face as you focused your attention on the syrupy mess on your plate. It was silent for a few more minutes before you noticed a few women sitting at the diner’s counter, giggling among themselves as they cast longing glances at Bucky. Something in your stomach twisted and your heart constricted. Of course they were looking at him, women often did. And you couldn’t blame them; Bucky was handsome in almost every way, and you yearned after him as well. But unlike most other people, you weren’t about to be so obvious about it. 

“Looks like you have a little fanclub,” you murmured softly under your breath as you lightly motioned towards them women. Bucky slyly followed your gaze and studied the newcomers and huffed in annoyance. He abhorred any sort of extra attention, especially when it came from people that only liked him because of his looks. Besides that, it often didn’t last terribly long; usually people realized who he was - used to be - and that scared them right off.

“They’ll leave soon enough,” he shrugged them off before turning his attention back to you, “besides, I-I’m not interested. It’s not like it used to be…”

“Back when?” you quickly snorted in amusement as he jokingly glared at you, “back in your day? I bet you had them all over you then too.”

“Well, it certainly was easier,” he admitted as he played with the straw in his almost empty milkshake, “nowadays people are harder to read. They all either want one thing, or they just stick around until they find someone else. It’s not worth it...and honestly, now one has caught my eye.”

“No one?” you asked as you pushed your last bite around the plate, letting the fluffy pancake soak up the syrup, “I find that hard to believe, even for you, Buck. Everyone has someone they’re interested in.”

“Huh,” he mused as drained the last of the milkshake, “well then, is there someone that has captured your interest?”

“I...no, not really,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the lie. Instead he immediately made a sound of small disbelief; you should haven’t even bothered to try and lie to him. He could see right through you, “there’s nobody.”

“I thought you said everyone has someone that they’re interested in?” oh yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to let this go at all. 

“Except me.”

“I find that doubtful.”

“What about you then, Bucky Barnes?” you decided to deflect by throwing the question right back at him, “has anyone captured your interest?”

Bucky paused for a moment, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he mulled over his next words carefully, “yes. There is someone.”

“O-oh,” you stammered as his gaze shifted back to you, blue eyes keenly studied your features, “you gonna tell me who it is?”

“Well,” he started slowly, tapping his fingers on the table as he leaned towards, "there is someone, but I don't know if she knows or thinks of me as more than a friend, but god, I hope she does. She's been my friend for a while now and I kind of want to ask her on a date, a proper date, but don't quite know how."

"Do you...do you think she could feel the same about you?" butterflies erupted in your stomach as you tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart. Surely he couldn't mean you. But then...why was a light flush of pink in his cheeks? Why was he watching you so intently?

"I don't know," he confessed with a light shrug as he sat back in the booth, an arm extended over the back, the picture of ease, "sometimes I think she might, but I don't want to think she does and mess anything up. I'd rather keep her as a friend than lose her."

"I guess you won't know unless you ask her…" you were positive that he could hear your heart beating rapidly, "you never know until you try. I have a feeling she won't turn you down if you ask...just a hunch…"

"Hmm…" a smile, dazzling and brilliant, grazed his features, "well then sweet-"

"Excuse me," one of the girls from the counter had approached your table and was leaning into Bucky, with her back to you. She was twirling her hair around her finger as she offered him her most dazzling smile. She was definitely beautiful and you really had nothing to base your annoyance off of, but she rubbed you the wrong way, "I was just wondering if you'd-"

"Hi, excuse me?" you couldn't help yourself as you gently tapped her arm. Bucky raised an eyebrow as she gave her a surprised look on her face, "I don't want to interrupt but he's mine. And if you don't mind...we're on a date."

"O-oh," her eyes widened as she looked between you and Bucky, who was currently sporting the most shit eating grin, "I didn't know. Sorry…"

She scurried back to her friends as you looked back down at your plate. Bucky cleared his throat as he leaned in, hardly believing what had happened. You could feel his curious blue eyes on you, searing and questioning.

"So she feels the same way or she's a good liar," he said softly as you chanced a glance, biting on your lip, "I'm yours, huh?"

"Shut up," you groaned, "it was to get her away from you, so you're welcome."

"Mhmm…" god that smile made you want to melt.

"Bucky!"

"Thank you," he bowed his head slightly, "what are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Nothing...why?"

"Can I take you on a date?" he asked as you looked at him in surprise, wide doe eyes meeting his, "a proper date?"

"I...yeah, Bucky. I'd like that a lot," you agreed softly, "see...I told you she won't turn you down."

"Guess you were right," he was causal, but inside his heart was fit to burst as he reached across the table and gently put his hand on top of yours, "I'm already hers, but she's my girl too."

Yeah. You could definitely get used to that.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[artsninspo]

Butterflies - IV

Butterflies - IV

MASTERLIST

“So, you’re never home, anymore” your bestie comments as you fluff your curls out.

“You know I’m busy and when I’m not I’m here talking with you” you laugh.

“And your swear that’s it? Are you still dating Gabriel?”

“Ummm hmm?”

“Seeing him tonight?” She pries.

“No not night brunch” you correct.

“Date number?”

“I don’t know?”

“Dang! So many you’ve lost count? How many times a week to you see him”

“Three” you admit and she screams. Your cheeks burn with a serious blush. These are the things you like to keep to the chest.

“So you like him”

“I don’t know…” Thats a lie you think to yourself "Yes” you admit. “But he has to be too good to be true” you groan closing your eyes.

“Have you had sex yet?”

“No”

“Maybe he’s small” she jests but that isn’t funny.

“Maybe, something to keep me grounded. It’s an icky but addictive feeling” you admit. “I feel like I’m losing brain cells cause all I want to do is be a giddy fool” you swallow and she laughs.

“Don’t overthink it, you deserve to be happy. Just enjoy your Prince Charming while it lasts”.

“Good advice” you agree finishing your eyeshadow and spraying your perfume. You’re out of the house and G is sitting outside on the hood of his car like a GQ model.

“Hey handsome” you smile  and he pulls you to him pecking your lips.

“Hey babe” he smiles letting you go and opening the door. The sun is bright and you cover your face.

“I forgot my shades” he takes his off instantly.

“You’re driving, I’ll be fine” you smile kissing his cheek and you end up at the brunch place. The food is amazing and G is attentive as always. He smiles as the waitress flirts with him amusing you.

“You have the whole staff a giggly teenage mess” you smile having another piece of fruit.

“We’re you like that?”

“I’ve always had pretty good self control. But I had my time to embarrass myself on behalf of a good time” you smile.

“You don’t have a jealous bone in your body do you?” He asks and it’s relief on his face.

“Us wanting to spend time with each other is our choice if that changes it changes I’m not good at coercion”

“Yeah right, you have the soft power” he says dropping twice the amount of breakfast on the table in cash. “Come on” he says and you end up in Saks. The sunglasses section he buys you everything you want without flinching at the completely indecent price tag.

“Why are you trying to butter me up?” You ask suspiciously sitting on his lap at the park where you spend time together on nice days.

“I’m going away for a week, so I’m trying to make up for lost time”

“Court for the kid?” You ask getting comfortable and he holds your hips adjusting your position with his big hands.

“Yeah, her mom wants to take her globetrotting” He’s annoyed. “Just to spite me, she knows work is busy so she’s testing what I care about more” he vents.

“Nothing to worry about. You don’t seem like you’re easy to pull the run around on” you smile.

“But, Izzy… social services said she needed a shrink and if you heard what the shrink says. Apparently she’s sad, she has emotional delays, trust issues. Babe, she’s only four” his words resonate and you rub his back before giving him a hug.

“Everything will be fine” you assure and he nods.

“Here’s my keys while I’m gone and some cash in case you need anything” he says reaching into his pockets.

“I don’t need your money”

“Take it, please” he urges.

“Fine” you put it in your purse and he smothers you in kisses.

“We’re official now, right?” He asks.

“What do you mean”

“Exclusive, you’re only seeing me. I’ve always only been seeing you.”

“I guess so” you shrug.

“I’ve been telling people I’m not single anymore” he admits.

“Interesting” you tease making him laugh.

“I’m not a coward or a cheater. You don’t have to worry. It’s getting hot out let’s go to your place” you stand and he follows taking your hand.

“I’m not a cheater or a coward either” he asserts. The ride home is full of casual conversation. And he has his fridge stocked with your fav wine when you arrive pouring you a glass before the two of you sit on the couch.

“I have a question” he says a little nervous.

“Go” you shrug putting the glass down. He swallows putting your legs across his.

“Are you a virgin or celibate and waiting for marriage?” He asks.

“How do you get there”

“Well, I know you’re attracted to me. But you don’t react like women have previously when I touch them or kiss them. I’m not comparing what I’ve done. Shit this is coming out all wrong. I guess you have a lot of self control and I was thinking it’s because you’ve never had sex” he swallows making you laugh.

“And if Im celibate is that a problem?” His face says how he feels about it instantly. Stressed.

“I need sex, I just do” he shrugs. “I’m not pressuring you I have my hand and respect your wishes. I’d rather it be with you than looking at a screen and jacking off but I guess I gotta do what I gotta do” he shrugs making you laugh.

“I’m not abstinent but I am a virgin” you admit and he looks stunned. “It’s really not tat deep. I’ve always just been focused on other things. I’d rather it not be terrible and with someone who can at least make it pleasurable, and take care of me. Everyone our age plays games and I take relationships more seriously” you shrug. He smiles.

“So you’ve just been breaking balls huh” he asks looking at the ceiling and chuckling a bit. Like he’s hit the jackpot. “I hope you know I can take care of you”.

“Are you experienced in that field?” You ask feeling oddly comfortable for the first time

“I’ve never slept with a virgin, having dated mostly older women” he explains. “But I’m a quick learner and you have nothing to worry about. Once it happens you’ll be all in and in love with me” he smiles.

“Don’t ruin your chances with that” you tease getting comfortable as he cuts on a movie.

“It’s a warning, I guarantee it” he asserts.

“Then I gotta be careful” you smile and he pulls your in closer. There’s no shortage of fireworks when he kisses you soft and then harder. But you can feel his heart beating just as fast. He pulls you in in closer kissing down your neck. His hands drift up your sides.

“Now I’m terrified” you pull away breathlessly.

“Just be ready when I get back, I’ll take care of you”

“Thanks for the presents today” you smile pecking his lips more harmlessly.

“A way to show you how I feel” he smiles kissing your cheek. “Stay the night, drive me to the airport in the morning”

“I don’t have nightclothes, my toiletries nothing”  you remind.

“Take the keys get what you need and come back. I’ll keep my hands to myself, promise” he crosses his heart.

“Drop me home I like my car better” you smile.

“What’s wrong with mine?” He asks.

“It’s you but it’s not me” you comment as he stands behind you already ready to go.

“Why don’t we just go get you some things you need then pick up your car so you don’t need to remember to bring things back and forth”

“You’re strange” you comment as he heads to the mall.

“I know what I want” he reminds.

He walks into the lingerie and sleepwear shop cool as a cucumber.

“What size?” He asks looking at an underwear display.

“XL” you comment looking for soaps and lotions. He rings everything up paying and holding your bag as you shop around getting necessities.

“You’re buying so much stuff, I’m Not Moving in”

“Well start with weekends” he ignores making

You laugh.

“I didn’t agree to any of that, just to tonight” you remind.

“One Step At a time” he reasons kissing your hand. His eyes are taken with a lingerie display in a boutique window.

“Like that?” You ask.

“Is it your style?” He asks. You smile taking his hand as you keep walking.

“So is that your thing? Dress up, shopping, you know?” You ask.

“It’s been over three months of dating. I figure unless I make a move I’ll be waiting forever”

“Well if it counts for anything I like that you aren’t rushing.”

“It’s Nice to be wanted for something other than my body for a change” he teases playfully.

_______

Tags:

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[seasami]

Larry Fic Rec -- June/July

hii!! so I’ve got some fics that I read in June and July (until now). If you see a ✰ next to a title it means I really liked it and it’s one of my favs from the ones I listed. If there’s a 🔒 next to title it means you have to be logged in to read.

[Click on the title for link]

                                               _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

Latitude by nikogda (44k)

Summary: Harry’s a hybrid on a boat about to be hit by a storm and Louis is the human who comes to his rescue. That storm is all the time they have to fall in love before going their separate ways. That is, until almost a year later… 

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by Anonymous ✰ (25k)

Summary: Harry had been kissed before, but never like this.He’d shared sweet, curious kisses behind bleachers and in soda shop booths, one or two more daring ones in cars parked on dark suburban streets, but the girls he’d kissed had never filled him with the desperation that erupted from Louis’ touch. He parted his lips and pulled him closer, as though he could breathe Louis straight into his lungs, as if he could swallow him. He wanted to consume Louis the way he consumed the body and blood of Christ. He wanted to place Louis on his tongue and feel him dissolve into a frothy mess of starch and saliva. He wanted to gulp him down until his teeth were stained purple and he was drunk on him. He wanted him in some violent holy way that made his hands shake where they were twisted in Louis’ shirt.

In 1949 Harry left his bride at the altar, running away from the only life he'd known. When a kindhearted farmer offers him a ride in his truck and a place to sleep the two find themselves inexplicably drawn together. Isolated on Louis' farm with nobody but a field of dairy cows to intrude, the men are finally able to explore the parts of themselves they've spent their lives hiding away.

No Candle No Light (No Friendzone To My Love) by Anonymous (11k)

Summary: Louis glanced at his friend, glaring daggers and Niall chuckled. He looked like his idea could end world hunger and Louis was horrified. [...]“Come on, Niall! Tell me!” Harry insisted, excited.“You can threaten him other than with violence. You said you want a little revenge, right? What if an ex-boyfriend came to reconquer you? You know, the jealous and aggressive kind.”Harry sighed loudly, closing his eyes. Louis frowned, just like Liam and Zayn. What was he talking about? And why was he still looking at Louis that way?“Niall, this could’ve been a nice idea if I had an ex-boyfriend, but-”“Let me explain!” Niall barged in. “ You don’t have an ex-boyfriend but you can pretend you have one! I’m sure Louis would love to help you with that.”Liam almost choked on his wine and Zayn bit so hard on his lip to contain his laughter that it might have bled. Niall looked satisfied as hell, of course he was the little shit, and Louis just had time to flip him the finger before Harry turned to him. He was fucking delighted.

Or the one where helping Harry getting rid of his boyfriend may be the only way to his heart

Sugar by lettersfromvenus (15k) ✰

Summary: 

“I hope our paths will ‘croissant’ again.” 

There’s a little smiley face drawn next to the words, and it’s ridiculous, Louis knows, but he can’t help the swell of butterflies that he feels as he reads over the words once more. An odd fellow indeed, he thinks.A moment later he shakes his head and collects himself, because he really does need to get home; he’s sure that Harry is probably watching him from behind the counter, all sweet, smug smiles and pink cheeks. And if he’s being honest, he’s not entirely sure he won’t toss his groceries into the trash and walk straight back into the bakery if he doesn’t leave now, so… he really does need to get going.

 Before he goes on his way, though, he plucks the note from the top of the container and carefully tucks it inside of his wallet to protect it from the rain.

That’s how it begins.

Only Been Here One Time by alienharry (10k)

Summary: 

“Good morning, Liam. Harry.” Louis nods at them both and then cocks his head. “Are you aware you have four nipples, Harry?”

Harry looks down at his chest, suddenly worried. He doesn’t know how many nipples humans have, but four must not be a usual amount. “Should I have six?”

“Not unless you’ve a litter of kittens to feed.”

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose by dolce_piccante (112k) ✰

I KNOW ITS ICONIC BUT I READ IT A MONTH AGO SO I THOUGHT I’D INCLUDE IT HERE. 

Summary: American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers). 

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football. 

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

It’s All Brand New by midnightwhistleberries (10k)

Summary: “Harry,” Louis intones emphatically, “literally everyone in the U.K. has known that I’m openly bisexual since 2011.” 

“’Cept you, I guess,” supplies Niall. 

In which Harry studies engineering, loves Madonna, and can't tell if Louis likes him or just keeps coming back to the record store because he's some sort of musical hoarder. Louis is famous, Harry has no idea, communication issues are rampant and fluffy pining ensues.

Fool For You by flowercrownfemme, lesbianferrissbueller (46k) ✰

Summary:  “It’s not a game.” Harry scoffed, trying to push past him once more but Louis held his ground. “And I’ve never once told you a lie.” “All you do is lie," Harry argued. "Jests and tricks and made up stories, that’s your trade. I’d never trust a word from your mouth.” “I tell stories,” Louis conceded, “but a good one must be based on truth. And my stories tend to get a bit more truthful when I’m around you, Princess.”

In which Harry is a brooding prince who's scarcely smiled since the death of his mother and Louis is the dashing jester hired to change that.

streetwise hercules by bottomlinsons (7k) 🔒

Summary: I said,” Louis’ voice is venomous, “who the fuck is this?”Right. This is Harry’s part.

(Uni AU, where Louis pretends to be Harry's boyfriend to scare away his one night stands.)

Close Enough To Touch by stinky28 (7k)

Summary: “You are killing it!” The stranger shouts in his ear, to which Louis raises a brow, setting up the next transition and song, bobbing a bit in place before glancing over to the stranger and Oh. Red. 

He’s staring right at a very large, oddly tied red bow tie. It takes up the whole stranger’s chest and..it’s bloody brilliant. He fucking loves it. He feels himself break into a giant grin, looking up at Mr. Red Bowtie’s face and Oh. Fuck. 

OR an au where louis is the dj for the met gala after party and harry can’t leave his side.

Hate Me To The Moon by harrystylesandstuff (83k)

Summary: The last thing Harry wanted was to spend his entire summer stuck with his dad's new fiancée and her kids. He wants no more when he learns she's a very religious dictator, raising a sixteen year old nun and a clean cut potential priest ass kisser.

Everything takes a slightly different turn, however, when Harry finds out his future step-brother is actually the rude stranger he caught sucking off a guy in a pub, far from the reserved Christian his mom thinks he is...

AU where Harry is a sexy nerd, Louis is a great actor, and they both pretend to hate each other's guts to convince themselves they're not feeling things future step-brothers shouldn't feel...

hush. by Wankerville (41k)

Summary: “I don't like you like that, Harry.”

“See,” Harry starts, Louis can hear the smile in his voice, “that's where I think you're lying.”

or an au where small towns suck, louis is losing it, and harry’s just too perfect.

The Unsuccessful Promise by trysomecats (11k)

Summary: At the end of the previous school year, Louis swore to everyone that he would return in the fall as an alpha. He made this promise especially to his arch-nemesis Harry Styles, who has already presented as an alpha himself. Unfortunately over summer break, the worst thing possible happens: Louis presents as an omega. Now school is back in session and he has to return and face the consequences of pre-determining his status. 

Featuring Liam and Zayn as Louis' doting and exasperated parents.

Autumn At My Window by TheCellarDoor (20k) 

Summary: A canon-compliant AU, in which Harry and Louis are both in the band and have been sharing flats and hotel rooms for nearly five years, but never made the leap past 'friends who are too close for comfort'. 

Featuring a lot of pining, Louis' addiction to Harry's scent, and a whole lot of sexual tension that might just snap loose when they decide to spend some time together all on their own.

OKAY! That’s it for now cause I don’t want this post to be too long (oof i’ve read a lot actually). I have Fic Rec June/July Part Two in drafts and im also gonna collect fics that I’ve read on my kindle (its usually above 50k and make a fic rec with them). Stay tuned and follow my blog so you don’t miss it idk <33. 

PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR FEEDBACK ON THIS: I can make: Iconic Fics, My Fav Fics or try and do some themed fic rec. LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D WANT THAT! 

[writingideasblog]

Chapter I Friends are a real treasure

I sat in the back seat and watched my parents fight for a third tme this day -"It's always your fault Matt!" My mom yelled out at my dad.

-"My fault?!MY FAULT?! IT'S ALWAYS YOU WHO'S STARTING THE ARGUMENTS FOR NO GODDAMN REASON. YOU'RE ALWAYS PLAYING THE VICTIM!!" My dad screamed back at my mom. They never had arguments untill one month ago. One of my aunts and mom's best friend, Clara died from cancer. Mom was never the same after her death. She started drinking and got more aggresive.

-"MAYBE IF YOU KNEW WHAT I'M GOING THROUGH YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING!!!" At this point the argument started getting heated.

-"WELL I'M SORRY I'M NOT ENOUGH LUCIA. I'M SORRY THAT YOU CARE MORE ABOUT A DEAD PERSON THAN YOU CARE ABOUT ME!"

Moms face turned dark red,she took a deep breath almost as she was about to put her face under the water. After that I heard a loud crash. I woke in cold sweat

-"How many times will you remind me of that day?" I asked my own brain.

I slowly crawled out of my bed and looked around my room. My room isn't the biggest but honestly I don't care. I looked at the painting above my bed and smiled,the painting shows a girl in a colorfull dress and a Jack o'lantern on her head. That's Olivia,my best friend. We landed in this orphanage after her mom died from cancer and her dad commited suicide. Her mom and mine were like sisters. A knock on the door brought me out of my thoughts. -"What's up loser? I was told to tell you to hurry your ass up" I rolled my eyes and laughed -"Hello to you as well rat" I laughed even harder when I saw Olivia cringe at that nickname.

-"Don't call me that please!"- Olivia begged me.

-"Alright, alright I won't call that again... Unless" I almost got smacked, for that

-"Get ready and go down stairs you little bastard" Olivia laughed

-"Okay I'll be there soon". As soon as she closed the door I walked up to my wardrobe and picked my favourite black t-shirt with a name of my favorite artist and blue baggy jeans. After I got dressed, I walked up to a mirror and looked at my face. I brushed my frizzy black,medium lenght hair from my oval shaped face,revealing my brown almond shaped eyes. A small scar running across my narrow nose. As I was about to leave my room I looked at the picture on my nightstand. The picture showed a sweet 5'1 girl with a triangular face,straight nose,straight,red hair and big,light green eyes. Her puffy lips were formed in a big smile. That's Olivia she was standing next to me. Not only I'm a year older than her I'm also six inches taller than her. I put the picture down and left my room,doors locking themself behind. I checked my pockets to make sure that I took my keys. I started walking down the hallway. The orphanage is quite small,which means there is only few of us. The walls were decorated with corkboards and pictures of us from random events that took place in this orphanage. Old wooden floor creaked under my feet. I walked downstairs and turned left. The cafeteria is the biggest room in this entire building. I spotted a table where all of my friends were waiting for me. I sat down and got greated by a tall guy named Bryan Chilson. He's a 6'4 guy with a brown skin and black dreadlocks pulled back. His face looks friendly. His has big,round hazel eyes,set sunken within his their sockets. Several moles are spread delicately on his neck.

-"How are you guys doing today?" A sweet voice filled my ears. That voice belongs to Jay Star. I turned my head towards her. She had her brown,wavy hair put in a tight ponytail,revealing her cheerful and chiseled face. An interesting fact about her, she has two differently colored eyes;her left eyes is baby blue and her right be is nut brown.

-" I'm doing pretty well thank you." I answered her question

-" I'm running on my third cup of my coffe but I'm doing good." I stared at my best friend in disbelieve, she never drank coffe before.

- "Since when do you drink coffe?!" I asked Olivia. She was about to answer my question but the cafeteria turned quiet. We looked towards the doors and we saw one of our friends. Her name is Raven Star she's a 5'6 girl,she's Jay's sister. The reason why everybody went quiet when she walked im is the way she looks like. Raven wears punk clothes,her black hair is cut short,her face is square. She has blue eyes set deeply in their sockets. She looks intimidating but she's a sweatheart. - " 'Sup dumbasses" her high voice rang in our ears.

After we ate our breakfast our teacher,Mary Allen stood up and said : -"Good morning my sweathearts! I have good news! Tomorrow we're going on a road trip to White Mountain National Forest in New Hampshire." Everyone cheered after our favourite teacher stopped talking.

-"So go to your rooms and pack your bags". We left the cafeteria and went to our rooms.

After we packed our bags we had to go downstairs few minutes later because we had to go to school,that was another area on our campus. We are always meeting in front of the main entrance of our orphanage. Minuts later we were ready to head towards our school. -"Have anyone seen Bryan?" I asked my friends, literally five seconds later Bryan was running towards us

-"Sorry I was buing a smoothie." He apologised."I think that, for 5 bucks, they could blend a little bit better so I don't get strawberry lumps stuck in my straw." Bryan complained about his smoothie making some of us giggle.

-"Hey,that's be a cool name for a band." Said Raven looking at all of us.

-"Stuck in my straw?" Bryan asked making Raven laugh.

-"Strawberry lumps you dumbass" Raven said between her laughs.

After what felt like forever we were finally done with lessons for today. Everyday, after school our group hanys out right next to the fountain on our campus. I saw everyone except Jay -"Hey! I'm here,where's Jay?"

-"She's in her room, she doesn't feel well." Her sister explained.

-"Monty do you have a crush on her or something?" Olivia asked. I could feel my face jest up. -"N-no I don't." -I stuttered out-"Why??"

-"Well you always talk about her and blush whenever we talk about her" Olivia answered. I could feel my face turned even deeper shade of red.

-"If you don't have a crush on her them why are blushing?" Raven teased me.

-"Yeah exactly!" Bryan agreed with Raven.

-"Oh shut up all of you!" I yelled out on embarrassment. I walked away from my group in anger. -"Uh oh." All of them said in unision

[indecisiveroomtempcola]

im bare bones

Chapter 2:Celena Celesgarde                                                              

The Bells rang early today, each singular bell swung in unison.The sounds of thundering footsteps rushed the hallways of the noble church school, the chitter chattering of each student replaced the still silence that carried all over the school. Everyone was waving at Celena Celesgarde, everyone adored her. From the way she looks with her white blonde hair and her light blue eyes to the way she walks.The girls admired her but the boys love her. Celena was pushing through a crowd of year six boys blocking the school exit and the leader was none other than the infamous Austin Redfield, Celena frowned at the sight of Austin, his red hair made him stand out from the crowd. He had one arm stretch while leaning against the archway, his smug smile never left his face as he stared at Celena. Geralt stood beside him, clearly trying to convey something important to him. She walked onwards without missing a beat, pushing his arm aside and walking through the grand wooden doors

 Before she could walk out. Austin grabbed her hand, Celena spun around and stepped on Austin’s foot. He screamed in pain while cuddling his foot checking for any signs of bruises. Satisfied, Celena waltz away, shaking her head, she boarded the ornate horse carriage that was waiting for her. Before the carriage could even move, Austin had his grip on the window, his acne riddled face popping into the carriage. He still bore the smile he had before, trying to act cool.

Celena sighed, “What do you want Redfield?” She showed no signs of interest in the boy, her eyes staring ahead with both of her hands placed together upon her lap. Austin combed his hair back with his hand,”Well, I would ignore the fact you stepped on my foot but-”

Usually on normal days she could stand the brat but today was special event for her and she

could not stand the red haired boy any longer. “Cut to the chase Redfield, I don’t have the entire day to listen to your incoherent ramblings!” She shot daggers at Austin clearly not wanting anything to do with him.” Always to the point Celena, here, something from me to you.” He took out a pouch of silver and dropped it into the carriage. There was a pause of realisation “ You think a few silver would win me over, what do you think of me, a simple street whore!.” She was screaming at the boy who fell over onto his back cowering behind his arms.

“Rowan!” she called for the coachmen.

“Yes, Miss Celena.” his deep voice carried over to the boy as he looked at the coachmen. The man was well fit, a black velvet outfit with a leather cap that shade him during the harshest of days. The only thing Austin could make out of him was his thick black beard.

”I want this carriage moving till it reaches the manor!” she regained her calm and waved goodbye to Austin while smiling as the carriage drove away.

“Well Austin Redfield, you did it again.” the familiar voice came from behind him. He turned around to find Geralt standing there, his arms crossed with a smug expression on his face. “Sixth one this week and you manage to piss off even the prideful Celena Celesgarde.” He chuckled at Austin’s unremarkable attempt. His face turned beet red, he clenched his knuckle and swung at Geralt.Geralt saw it coming and tried to dodge it, but it was too late. The punch made a clean contact with his face, Geralt fell backwards onto his backside. 

“ Should have seen that coming.” Geralt spoke through his hand, the sound muffled.

“ I had enough with you and your jesting.” Austin spat at Geralt who was still on the ground. He stormed away, each step carrying anger.

The carriage ride would be longer this time of year, the festival of the New Saints was being held in three more days time and the citizens of the Imperium no matter what status celebrates this auspicious occasion with festivities of all kinds. But it always irritates Celena that she would be walking among the plebeians of the city, she would go as far as to consider herself as part of the royal family due to their mother’s relationship, with the queen consort of the reigning king. The sudden halt of the carriage jerk Celena out of her thoughts, her whole body was pulled forward but she held the carriage window, her palm on the window pushing herself backwards. 

“Rowan! What is the meaning of this? I said no stopping until we have reached the manor!.” Celena yelled from inside the coach but there was no response. She opened the carriage door cautiously, something was wrong. The eerie silence made Celena hold her breath until she was outside, still nothing. She walked slowly to the front of the coach, “Rowan?” she spoke softly, unsure to move towards the front. No response, she mustered the courage and checked on the coachmen, she gasped. Rowan was missing, she didn’t even hear any sounds from horses when the cart stopped. She looked around, one side was the cliff edge, the other was just the forest. She checked again, around the carriage. No signs of any attack, she would have to walk back to the manor. Unless, she eyed the decorated horses, a small white light came from the tip of Celena fingers. She looked around again reassuring herself she was alone. And she cut off one of the reins that held the horses to the carriage, Celena blew towards the rein and it started to freeze, it broke off as the light came in contact with it, but the horse neighed and took off. She shouted after it but it never came back. She looked towards the other one, she had horseback riding lessons once but she still remembered some bits of it. Celena got on the horse this time before releasing it, this horse didn’t much care about Celena, it seems bored or tired from the journey. 

She held onto the rein and was about to break it off, but she was interrupted by a bush rattling its leaves, she hurried with the reins, something was lurking in the forest and she didn't want to find out what it was. She squeezed her legs for the horse to take off but it didn’t budge. She did it again but the horse was still standing there, she looked towards the forest again but she saw nothing. She had to go, something was definitely wrong. She had no choice, her hand glowed white but before she could touch the horse something fell beside it, she slowly moved her head towards the object and it horrified her, she smacked the horse on its rear and it took off leaving behind the severed arm of Rowan, the former coachmen.

[t-underneaththeradardancing]

im ok - yah  

wanna play guitar more than able a good sign - i feelz like the health jest bloomin all over like a rash - then i duz something  - small load of dishes - duz  ( DUZ wuz - actually a dish detergent lol )  - means standing in place less than 10 minutes  or maybe 15 - im slow and window gaze often  and rhythmically moving arms - exhaustion leg pain ragged breathing by the time i finis lol - nbd - not bein macho like a ppl inna village either - i get breath back no prob - sit - maybe lay down for a minnit 

or 

an hour - watever it dont matter - i dont have to be any wear or clothes even tho t  without even he dont - tmi az per usual

just to b clear as fuck cuz imma seein signs - not just on tumblr 

tho nobody i actually follow 

but

I GOT NO TRUCK WITH ANYTHING THAT IS HATE 

racist homophobic misogynist any kind of hateful bullshit cruelty toward anybody ....

and yah there is a lot of weird fukken shit

i been down the conspiracy rabbit hole thoroughly - tho not for over a decade - but i look around - same as it ever was  - every single conspiracy theorist i have been able to track down to core beliefs has been racist  - w drum roll cuz thru the ages - the most prominent group under attack  

as always

jews 

then muslims 

and every poc - unless said conspiracy is in  one of those groups - altho sometimes - even then 

k 

lets get back to caturday 

we oughtta b dancing singing playing some of us r as best we can 

some day we b together 

[nortromthesilencer]

Bits and Pieces (Compiled)

A compiled RP between @rizzrack​ and Myself

Nortromthesilencer

“What’sa runt like you doing out here alone, anyways?”

This was bad. This was beyond bad. Nortrom backed away some more, the heels of his feet hitting a large root, tree directly behind him inhibiting any further attempts to retreat. Was this really The Silencer? Not in any recognizable sense by those that knew him now: He was much shorter, much leaner, much younger. The once middle aged man was not seen in this child, meekly cowering from the trio of bandits closing in. Used to harassment from his peers and preceptors, Nortrom normally met them with submission and acceptance. Now, he wasn’t sure how to act. He was lost in more ways than one.

“Doubt the kid’s got anything on ‘im. Might be able to ransom ‘im to the town though,” A toothy sneer dragged across the lopsided face of one of the bandits, knife slowly unsheathing. Nortrom’s pale blue eyes locked on the blade, scared, anticipating. Again he tried to back away, pressing his shoulders firm against the rough bark. With no weapon or sense of where he was, the child knew he was facing greatly skewed odds.

“Leave me alone, please.” The timid request was quiet, near begging, and the least threatening thing in the world. It brought about a great laugh from the men, a sound that caused the boy to flinch.

“Ya hear that? Th’ runt said please! Oh boy, now we hav’ to leave ‘im alone!” Their mocking jeers forced Nortrom to droop even more, his situation getting more hopeless by the second.  What did he do to wind up here? Why were these men doing this? The outside world was foreign, and even more so the lawless corruption of thieves.

Rizzrack

Elusive and unpredictable, the Timbersaw still has the uncanny ability to show up in places no one wants him to be, so long as there is a single tree around.

Just a single tree off a dirt road that connects two small towns together. It caught his attention from a distance, like a single thread poking from the seam of a military uniform. Upon approach however the small-keen takes notice of the group. It’s immediate to him that the situation is a bad one. Very likely a dispute between two parties. Normally he wouldn’t intervene… most adults can take care of themselves you know! However, this victim was obviously a child, and Rizzrack would not let that slide by.

If the little gathering wasn’t so absorbed within their matters, then perhaps they may have seen the waddling saw suit approaching in the distance. If they did not, then for sure they would have noticed the metal claw that suddenly smashed into the trunk dangerously close to the child. In mere moments the suit pulls itself over, bumping roughly into the tree and partially uprooting it.

“Oh, pardon me!” The clawed hand nudges the child away from the tree and behind the suit before lifting up and punching the woody giant completely to the ground. He takes a quick glance at the bandits, and the partially unsheathed knife is enough to confirm his assumptions. “I was passing by and couldn’t help but notice your entertainingdisplay of blades!” The Small-Keen leans forward in his seat, eyes squinting at the weapons the bandits hold. “Is that your mother’s silverware? Cute.” He chuckles as he falls back into his seat. The suit brings the saw-arm forward, holding the buzzing limb between them. “Now what do you think of mine?”

Nortromthesilencer

When claw met trunk, the child screamed. Reflexively diving away, beige tunic smearing with dirt as he went to ground, Nortrom watched in wide eyed horror while the massive machine lurched to a stop before them. Mouth agape, he slowly scrambled back, still on his butt.

The bandits were not so lucky in making any meaningful distance, instead stuck face to face (or face to saw) with the timbersuit. One looked at the kid, still dragging himself even further away and much too shocked to stand just yet, then back to the saw, then his knife, then the saw again, and threw his hands up with a shout. “Fuck this, not worth it!” At those words, the trio were quick to run, not wanting to risk their lives over this.

Realizing now that one of the threats had retreated, Nortrom scrambled to his feet. Not taking his eyes from the timbersuit, he stepped back ever so slowly, thinking that if he went slow it wouldn’t notice him. With how little else there was around them, he knew this was doubtful but tried anyways.

Rizzrack

The small-keen can’t help himself but to let out a little “ha-hah!” at the sight of the fleeing bandits. “Those three made the right choice! I really wasn’t looking forward to spending a day cleaning a red mess off my blades. Now then…” He glances behind him at the child slowly backing away, his expression becomes stern.

“Oooh no no no I need to have a word with you, little one!” Rizzrack hops down from the cockpit and approaches Nortrom, finger pointed disapprovingly. “Don’t you know it isdangerous out here nowadays?” He stands before him, looking up with hands on cocked hip and tsks away. “Lucky thing I was around. Who knows what could have happened to you? They could have seriously hurt you!” he exclaims, waving his hand towards the direction the bandits fled. “Or that!” He includes the uprooted tree. “Your parents must be worried sick! Unless… they sent you out on an errand all alone. Then I’ll have a word with them too!”

Nortromthesilencer

Once out of the suit, this odd fellow wasn’t anywhere near as intimidating. Nortrom recognized the race, a small keen, from his many studies yet never imagined they really were as short as he read. Hell, the child was only 10 and still stood taller than this one!

He stopped backing up now, one arm rubbing his other anxiously. Still speaking softly, the boy maintained eye contact out of habit. “S-sorry sir. I know it’s dangerous but I don’t know where I am… or how I got here even…”

Clasping the fidgeting hand into a fist, he thought, expression shifting as he did so every few seconds, wracking his brain as to just how he got here. “M-Maybe it was an error in the teleportation spell…?” Nortrom sunk into his own hands, holding his head and groaning loudly, “I’m going to be in so much trouble for this…”

Rizzrack

Firm face turns to a softer expression, one of sympathy for the poor boy. Don’t stress him any more than he needs to be, after all he did just get out of a frightening ordeal.

“Oh, perhaps! B-but don’t think about that right now. Let’s just get you back home, how’s about that? Sound good? Good!” He turns back around and climbs his way back into his suit, continuing to talk to the child. “So you may not know where you are, but if you know where you need to go, we can work from there. Teleportation is tricky business, you won’t catch me messing with that sort of thing often. Oh!” Once seated, he brings the suit over to the boy and leans out over the cockpit extending his gloved hand. “I’m Rizzrack by the way, also known as Timbersaw by those that get on my bad side. Hehe, but you won’t have to worry about that! Now what’s your name kiddo?”

Nortromthesilencer

The cultural concept of a hand shake is lost on the child, who just stares with confusion at the yellow glove as it’s presented. Instead, the boy bows his shoulders slightly, and keeps his eyes down while speaking, “Greetings, sir. I- I have been instructed not to tell outsiders my name. I do thank you for the help, however.” While Nortrom didn’t completely know why this was a rule, he assumed it was for safety or the sort. The reality was quite close, his order wishing to keep him secret and safe from any who would disrupt their prophesied plan.

Lifting his posture once more and cautiously taking a look over at the suit before him, blades and all, the boy absentmindedly tried to answer Rizzrack’s other question. “I’m from the Hazhadal Barrens, by their northern mountains.” Metal, wood, and other strange materials; He had never seen such a contraption before and was fascinated by it. All but ignoring the keen, Nortrom was in awe as he looked over every joint and limb.

Rizzrack

The little bow is odd. It’s polite, but odd, something that Rizzrack has never seen to come from a child. The small-keen nods understandingly. “That’s smart! I get it, you can’t trust everyone.”

He leans back into his suit, thinking on the response. Hazhadal Barrens? That sounds oddly familiar. Where did he hear that from? Hmm, barrens… maybe someplace he himself wandered to for some momentary solace from the trees. Rizzrack looks back to the child, taking notice of how captivated he is of the suit. He has every right to be! Not many who live in a world where magic is the norm can appreciate the true wonder that is technology. It fills him with a sense of pride, and dangerously enough, an urge to show off his creation and perhaps even influence a young mind.

“Pretty amaaaazing, right? Hmhm, I know.” Rizzrack pats the dashboard lovingly. “The one-of-a-kind Timbersaw. Top of the line monster to lumber converter! It slices, it dices, it chops up your nightmares into itty bitty pieces so  you’ll never have to worry about them again. And-” He continues. “It can be your best friend.” Shoving a few levers, Rizzrack brings the suit down into a squat, enabling Nortrom to get a much better look at the controls within. “You may behold my amazing invention, but don’t stare for too long or-.” Rizzrack’s jesting is interrupted as the suit suddenly begins to shudder. The smoke from the exhaust sputters until it all falls silent. “Oh, no no! Dangit! Not again…”

Nortromthesilencer

Jumping back as the suit staggers and creaks into a crouch, Nortrom can’t help but grin a bit while Rizzrack goes on his rant about the wonders of the suit. He circles it, not touching, ogling every gear, every lever, every system and weld. Knowing very little about such mechanics as it wasn’t a topic of study in any of his courses, the boy can’t help but be enraptured by this new sight. Curiosity eventually gets the better of him and Nortrom carefully runs a finger across one of the welded seems. The suit sputtered and twitched as if in protest, and again the boy jumped back.

“I…” Did he break it? A dawning look of horror replaces the short lived grin, hands pulling back to his side immediately, and a few very slow steps in retreat his first instinctive reaction. Nortrom store wide eyed up at the suit’s angered pilot and cringes, recoiling into his own posture, “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to break it…”

Rizzrack

Completely distracted by his suit, Rizzrack fails to see the boy’s growing stress.

“I can’t believe it!” Hands fling into the air and he groans out his frustrations to the world. “You just have to go and break, don’t you?? Disappointing, ABSOLUTELY disappointing!” Rizzrack moans. It’s only then that he hears a quivering voice and turns his scowling face towards the child. “What? Break it?” He stares down at the shrinking, fear-stricken child. “Ah no, trust me, even if you wanted to break it you wouldn’t… er…” His words did nothing to comfort the boy. Confusion replaces anger, and Rizzrack can only  stand there and rub the back of his neck awkwardly. Geesh, the kid sounds like an orphaned apprentice, and Rizzrack wouldn’t at all be surprised if he was adopted by some nasty keen-folk from that town near The Jungle. “I-it’s okay! It happens! Sometimes things go wrong but they go wrong for a reason. Sometimes that reason is your normal wear and tear, other reasons is to just make me miserable. Why don’t we just take a look, hmm? Nooo reason to be scared.” Turning towards his suit, Rizzrack begins his very unorganized method of trouble shooting. A few minutes are spent opening compartments, tracing wires, tapping gauges until finally he finds a possible cause.

“Ah-hah! There’s the problem!” His tone of optimism is quickly dulled by annoyance. “The fuel line leaked… No matter! I always keep a little extra on me in case of emergencies, such as when the hose clamp doesn’t want to do its one job. Just give me a second.” Fishing around in the cockpit, the small-keen pulls out a bottle large enough to require to of his hands to properly hold and pulls off the cap to sniff the contents. “Nope.” He places it back and grabs another identical bottle and repeats the process. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” He places the bottle of clear liquid upon the control panel of the suit. “That my boy, is fuel, and it’s what makes this big brat run.” Rizzrack turns his attention back to the hoses of the suit as he attempts to make corrections. Every few seconds there’s an annoyed mutter and a bump, and with every bump, the bottle slowly nudges closer and closer to the edge of the slightly tilted cockpit…

Nortromthesilencer

The child let out a deep sigh of relief, breath being held as he waited to be berated. It was reassuring knowing he wasn’t the cause of the malfunction, and although still on edge, worked up the courage to peer over Rizzrack’s shoulder at the work he was doing. So lost was he in the hoses, gaskets, valves, and makeshift repairs that Nortrom paid little attention to what was beside them, that small bottle inching ever so closer to the edge of the timber-suit.

“This looks really complex,” he noted, head tilting in confusion at the machines innards. Not wanting to get in the way of Rizzrack’s light, when the keen moved so too did the child, right into the bottle. An echoing crash of broken glass against stone forced his attention away, the look of horror dawning on his face once again.

This time, he knew he was the cause.

He lept back, crowding the broken bottle, kneeling down to start frantically picking up the glass shards with his bare hands. “No, no no… I didn’t mean… I’ll, I’ll clean this up. I’ll…” Nortrom knew he couldn’t replace the bottle contents, and that scared him most of all. Not only did he break the glass, he ruined whatever was inside. Nearly hyperventilating in panic, he untucked his tunic and held it forward, placing the shards in like a makeshift basket, shaking, and not watching out for the sharp edges that occasionally grazed his skin.

Rizzrack

“It looks complex, but once you  become familiar with what’s what, it’s really quite easy to understand an-”

The breaking of glass causes him to flinch and let out a squeak of fright. He whips around and leans over the Timbersuit to stare in dismay at the broken pieces, watching the diesel flow across the ground and dissipate. Brows furrow and with gritted teeth he turns his attention to the boy. “Why would yo-..!” The boy’s frantic attempt to clean the shards and utter disregard of the glass cutting his skin stops Rizzrack from reprimanding the boy. Is this kid alright!? Once again confusion and worry grips the Keen. “D-don’t… stop picking those up you’ll get seriously hurt!” Hands pat the air as he tries to calm the boy. Seeing as he won’t let up, Rizzrack grabs the other bottle of water in his arms and carefully leaps down from the suit.

Placing the bottle down beside him, he firmly grips the child’s wrists. “Stop! Stop! Look!” he turns the palms skyward, shaking glass shards from them and wincing at the sight of the red nicks. “No need to save the pieces. We can’t put it back together. Ugh. Keep your hands there.” Retrieving the bottle of water, he removes the seal and positions the neck over the boys hands and slowly begins to pour the contents. “You can’t just handle broken glass or chemicals without proper protection. You need to wear gloves. Like I do.” Placing the bottle back down beside him. the small-keen takes a knee in front of the boy in an attempt to seem less intimidating in hopes the boy would calm down. He begins to inspect the young hands for any small slivers that may have embedded themselves within the skin. By the looks of it, nothing very serious.

“I appreciate you trying to be responsible, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” He sighs, quite annoyed at the loss of fuel, but it doesn’t mean the end of the world for them. Yet.

Nortromthesilencer

As Rizzrack raised his arms, the child coward, glass shards falling from his tunic as it bent back, arms attempting to protect himself from an expected beating. When they grabbed his wrists he bowed his head, still cringing, waiting, expecting pain at any moment…

None came.

Opening one eye and sheepishly peeking out from his cowering form, the child watched as Rizzrack worked to clean his hands instead of pull at them. But why? It was his fault the bottle fell, it was his fault it broke, and it was his duty to accept punishment for his errors.

As the seconds passed, Nortrom found himself breathing less erratically and forcing himself to stand more straight. He still held the look of a scared animal, but there was even more confusion turning his brows.

“I– I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I ruined your repairs.” Some part of him expected the Keen to no longer wish to help him for being such a useless kid.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack places Nortrom’s hands down. He takes a moment to observe the child, to ensure he’s calmed down. Just about every reaction from the boy confuses the small-keen, bringing to mind worrisome thoughts for the child’s well-being and questionable upbringing.

“It’s fine. It was an accident, and what every good inventor knows, accidents can lead to discovery. Thus, I have discovered I shouldn’t leave fragile glass bottles on the edge of the timbersuit. I think that’s a good lesson.”

He stands back up and closes his remaining bottle of water. He turns his attention back to the suit, glancing over it in thought. Hmm. Until he can get more fuel, he’ll just have to operate it through ‘keen-power’. The sawblades won’t operate and the suit will be completely ineffective at cutting, but it’s still a much better alternative to the other possibly dangerous option. An option he shouldn’t have to take for as long as there’s no immediate danger, everything should be fine.

“Welp.” Rizzrack climbs his way back into the suit, placing the bottle away and beginning to convert the suit from fuel-power to muscle-power. “No point in wasting more time sitting around. We’ll take a trip to the town east of here and get some more fuel, then from there we’ll ask for directions to the barrens. Don’t worry kiddo we’ll get you home.” After some quick reassuring the small-keen begins to ride the Timbersuit towards the desired direction with much more force and effort required to push and pull the levers. It occurs only now  occurs to Rizzrack the child may not want to follow a stranger to some other place, but he hopes the boy won’t decline. It’s unsafe out here, and despite there not being much vegetation, with the suit in a vulnerable state, anything could mean death.

Nortromthesilencer

Despite the lessons learned, Nortrom didn’t feel at all convinced that this wasn’t his fault and he wasn’t deserving of punishment for being so careless. Still, the child wasn’t going to push the matter, happy to for once not be berated. What didn’t cross his mind, however, was not following: it would be a hell of a lot safer with this keen than out alone in the middle of an unknown land.

“Yes sir.” Obediently he followed the suit, walking with his hands held at his sides and posture straight. Operating the suit manually looked labour intensive, and while the child wanted to ask if he could help, he also didn’t wish to cause any more problems.

He took this time as they walked to silently look more at their saroundings, and even curiously ponder what the town would be like. Where he came from, most hubs were built around oasis or well points, and he was always instructed not to speak to anyone or leave the group. Never had Nortrom had a chance to freely explore, instead letting his imagination run wild as to how many things might be hidden where no one dare look.

The child was lost in his own thoughts, so very quiet, walking in file.

Rizzrack

He’s following. Good. Good. It settles well with Rizzrack, bringing about a good feeling. He trusts you! But can’t let him down, might be the only one he can depend on out here as well. Which reminds him…

“How did you end up in this place anyways? hmph. Did you get kidnapped? huff.” It’s only been a few minutes and he’s already working up a sweat. “Wouldn’t surprise me. hff. There’s all sorts of whewfelids around here. They’re happy to help strangers, but hmff the moment their eye catches any huff any sign of vulnerability, you’re nothing but prey to them. huff huff. So stick close to me.”

The landscape is flat and dry with little vegetation dotted about. It’s a perfect place for Timbersaw to travel through and wind down from territories infested with trees. It’s also perfect for the inhabitants who love to disappear into the dust when they desire to lose a chaser off their tails.

They couldn’t get to the town soon enough. One can be easily fooled to believe it to be a ghost town. The style of buildings and height of doorways hint that humans lived here before at some point. Perhaps it was some trading hub, seeing as how it resides on a road that connects two seperate, larger towns. Due to the other town being destroyed by powers of nature, it left this road unused and the little town soon abandoned. At least by the humans.

Shadows move glide silently within the buildings like ghosts. Its unsettling and one would think the dendrophobic keen would be frightened, but he is not. Instead, he continues through, passing by a very large structure resembling a bucket with a cone on top.

“That is a water tower. It has no water in it. Speaking of.” He stops the suit in front of a creaky shop with a wooden sign reading “supply”. He grabs the bottle from earlier that is only now filled halfway with water and hands it to the boy. “Drink. It’s easy to die out here.”

Rizzrack hops down from his suit and takes a moment to rub his tired arms before heading up the uneven wooden steps to approach a dark open window. “Madini?”

Emerald eyes appear from the darkness within like orbs of magic in the night.

“Se ‘ami newi, keen. The mechanism thirsts for more? Hmhmm.” The voice is soft and feminine, yet raspy. Already familiar with this particular customer, the sound of her retrieving a can of fuel and placing it upon a table is heard within. As she awaits a container to fill, her eyes glance behind Rizzrack and catch sight of the boy. “Ah, t’enika, a strong young boy. You belong to the keen? Give me the bottle.” From the dark a black furred paw emerges. Pad facing up, the claws open and close, beckoning the boy to come near.

Nortromthesilencer

Watching the Keen struggle wasn’t something Nortrom wanted, but still he feared helping would instead make things worse. Instead, the child quietly answered his questions to the best of his abilities, “I’m not sure how I got here. I woke up in the middle of the road, and I hurt all over. Maybe one of the teleport spells we use at the cantonment messed up?” He shrugged, just as confused as anyone else would be.

With a gracious bow the child took the jar, a small ‘thank you’ chirping from his lips before he took a sip. The rest he saved, holding on to the bottle very firmly, not wanting a repeat of the last accident.

There was something oddly familiar about the town, a sort of Barren-esque feeling that put Nortrom at a bit more ease than he was before. The cities and towns there would come and go like the wind, their lively-hood based on weather conditions and water, and shifting just like the dust that inhabited them. Even the shop keeper was familiar, a feline like race he had seen before in the Barrens. Nortrom recalled a small fact that their large ears helped thermo-regulate their bodies,and survive the harsh conditions where other races would overheat…

He snapped out of his trance like state when spoken to, looking down at the bottle in his hands. Tilting his head towards Rizzrack, the boy cautiously stepped forward and placed it in her paw. If Rizzrack was trusting of this figure, surely he could be as well? Well, maybe not trusting, that was the wrong word, but at least accepting that she didn’t mean them harm for the time being. They did seem to know one another.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack crosses his arms and sighs, head bowed as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Ugh, you could say that. The fuel hose came loose and I don’t have enough diesel to clear the lines. Do you know how troublesome it is to fix that? Very troublesome! Sometimes I have to ask myself why I don’t just…” The small-keen continues on rambling to a feline who couldn’t look any more disinterested.

Madini grabs the bottle with both hands and pulls it in through the window. Noticing that there is still some water within the vessel, she takes a moment to lap up some of it before dumping the last remaining bit out the window in a wasteful manner. Such is the way of felines. With some patting of the bottle to empty it as much as possible, she sets it down to fill it to the rim with fuel from the can.

“… I mean I could always take a more economical route and attach a-” Rizzrack is interrupted from his vocal thoughts by the sound of a claw tapping glass. Seeing it, he grabs it all while continuing his yammering and goes back to tend to his suit. Finding the keen to be distracted, the feline leans ever so slightly towards the window. The light of outside just barely reaches in to show her previously hidden features. Unlike the fur on her arms, the fur of her face is much shorter and freely shows her wrinkles. It’s possible she may well be along in her time. She beckons Nortrom closer, expressing her desire to speak to him.

“We’ati, how are you stuck with this keen?” She waves a paw towards the direction of Rizzrack who is much too occupied trying to restart the Timbersuit to notice the the talking going on behind his back. “Do you know what one means when they say someone is not all there? He is crazy.” She hisses softly. “Talking, talking, talking about trees. Everything trees. He say he will cut them all. What trees do you see out here?  Monyi…” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I do not think those teeth only cut through wood.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom finds himself looking back and forth between the pair, Rizzrack lost in his suit and Madini gracefully getting the fuel situation sorted out. He was used to just silently standing to the side, a backdrop, as others spoke and did their thing. When gestured to approach the feline closer, he felt it fine to do so as Rizzrack was occupied with the suit.

“Er…” Hesitant to cast any judgement, the boy side eyes Rizzrack as she spoke, the way he was talking to his machine as he worked, and slowly nodded. Maybe it was just Keen thing? “He– He helped me when bandits wanted to hurt and sell me. Said that he will help me get back home.” The more the child thought about it, the more doubtful he became. Could this odd pink Keen actually help him? “I don’t know where we are, Ma’am; where I am. I’m trying to get back to the Hazhadal Barrens.”

Nortrom still refused to give his name out, remembering the preceptors lessons very well. As much as he felt an outcast and useless, Nortrom missed his bed. He missed the secure walls of the cantonment, and the fact there was food. For some strange reason, he even missed his studies. Out here? He was alone, scared, lost, and unsafe.

Sinking into his posture as those thoughts crept on him, the child huffed softly, depressed. “I don’t know what else to do but follow him.”

Rizzrack

The feline tenses ever so subtly at the mention of the bandits, her slit pupils gradually dilate. “Fi’ hateh tena fe.” Madini looks behind the boy, startled by the noise the machine makes as it sputters and returns to operational status. Desperation hinting, she continues. “Do not go with the keen. You are smart boy. You are better with me. I know the Hazhadal Barrens.” She leans back to avoid suspicion as Rizzrack returns with the now empty bottle.

“Whew, well that’s resolved! I’ll need another for the road, madame.” Rizzrack trilled as he pushed the bottle through the window. Madini is much less talkative now, a detail Rizzrack fails to notice as she refills the bottle and trades it back to the keen in return for a sum of gold. Taking the bottle, the keen does a cringing attempt to bid a farewell in her tongue as he made his way back to the rumbling suit to climb in and place the bottle away. “Alright boy let’s get you back home.”

Madini watches silently, intently, gold in paw and her pupils like a black sun in an emerald sky. What will the boy do?

Nortromthesilencer

Oh no. Doubt floods Nortrom’s little head, and now he’s not sure keen on following the keen. His expression sours, tense, and for once the boy chooses to speak up for himself. “Wait,” If he could get one thing answered, he might be more inclined to choose, finding out who really does know of his home and who doesn’t, “Where are we right now? What region, or border?” This sudden change of demeanor will most likely not go unnoticed by the Keen, and Nortrom knows it, but he has to ask. He needs answers.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack pauses and pulls his hands from the levers, confused at Nortrom’s actions. Before he can even say anything, Madini pounces at the opportunity to answer. “This town is to the west of Sunridge, where one may see across the canyon the remains of the Fortress of Valhessi.”

“Canyon? Oh, I’ve passed by a canyon not too long ago! That way.” Madini is once again quick to correct the direction the keen points in. Realizing he may be wrong, Rizzrack sheepishly plays off his incorrect finger-pointing as a hand wave. “.. That waaay… may be the best way to go. Yep.” The suit adjusts its orientation to face the direction Madini pointed to. “Thank you for the directions Madini I’ll be sure to visit you again soon.” The timbersuit begins to walk as Rizzrack is quite sure the boy would have no reason NOT to follow him, especially now that he’s going in the right direction.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom’s doesn’t budge. He frowns, fists balled up, “Sir, are you lost?” Looking around, the child compares the sun’s path with what Madina had said and indeed confirms her directions to be true. With a cocked head and a sour look, Nortrom sighs, “I’m thankful for your help, but how can you help me get home if you don’t know where we are?”

Turning to Madina, he gestures innocently, “Ma'am said she knows where the Barrens are from here.” If she wished to keep her little conversation secret, that opportunity was now lost. Nortrom was taught to never lie, as deception is the weapon of the Fold and he was better than that, “She said she could help.”

Rizzrack

The suit stops and the keen turns to face the boy, expression in a forced smile followed by a nervous laugh. “D-do I, LOOK… lost? Do I?” Nostrils flare as the boy points out that it’s true, Rizzrack doesn’t know where they are. The keen looks to the feline and practically shoots daggers at her, now quite aware she has some sort of part in this. Of course.  Madini nods quite calmly, ignoring Rizzrack’s growing temper. “I will be gr-”

“NO!” Rizzrack interrupts. He huffs, then laughs, finding his own reaction to be a waste of energy. “No, haha, I understand! It’s okay! Stay with the cat! She knows better than I do! I don’t know anything!” He adds, hands waving about his head in dramatic fashion. “I helped out enough, after all. You don’t need me anymore. Madini will help you get home.” That last sentence in particular is said quite roughly towards the feline. Almost as if it were a threat. She remains cool and grants a mewl of pity towards the keen.  “Veti ni me’e-”

“Don’t patronize me, I know I’m wrong!” Rizzrack takes another breath, putting effort into speaking more calmly. In the end he sighs, posture slumping, defeated. He didn’t like to be wrong, but pretending to be right won’t erase the embarrassment, nor get anyone home. “Just be safe, okay? It was nice knowing you- uh…kid. ” He never got the boy’s name, but maybe it was for the best. Turning around, the Timbersuit heads back the way it came. No beckoning for the child to follow. No good bye.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom felt guilty, very guilty, as the Keen went on his little rant. He sunk even more, shoulders tucked in, posture hidden, trying to disappear into the air. “S-sorry. Thank-you for your help…” He couldn’t take his eyes off Rizzrack as his machine walked away. Was this the right choice?

Still slumped, the boy shuffled to face Madina. His lips were pursed, sucked into an awkward frown, “I- er… I guess I’m with you now, Ma’am.”

Rizzrack

Madini’s pupils thinned, her gaze relaxing and with excellent hearing one may be able to pick up the faint sound of purring. “He is a danger. Ayi zeni, Ayi zeni… Do not feel sorrow. I will be sure that you are taken care for.” Leaving her spot from the window, she steps to the side behind the door next to where she was. There is some fumbling, some clicking, and the door opens partially to reveal more of the feline who is quite surprisingly close in height to Nortrom. She beckons the boy inside. “Come in, stay cool. I will prepare for the travel.”

Nortromthesilencer

Looking back one last time at Rizzrack vanishing in the distance, Nortrom nodded and obediently followed. Escape from the sun is most welcome, as is the prospect of finally having a route home. Forgetting about his hunger and regret, the boy instead takes comfort in what appears to finally be a positive tone to this whole damned experience.

The inner room is quite cluttered, stacks of goods and supplies gathered in crates and bags against the walls, and dirty sewn rugs laid out on the ground. Nortrom was very careful not to touch anything.

Rizzrack

Very carefully Madini closes the door. Her steps are light as she moves around and away the dim light, nearly one with the shadows and objects. She paces about the boy, her attention on moving around various objects with no real purpose, keeping the boy within her periphreal vision.

Waiting.

She steps behind Nortrom, a thin rag in her paws. When she finds she’s out of the boy’s vision and he’s grown relaxed to the environment… She makes her move.

Pressing her form against his back, she throws her hands with cloth over his head, taking advantage of whatever shriek he may have cried out of surprise by tugging rag tight between his jaws. “Shhh.” Keeping the hold firm against herself and slightly above the ground she forces Nortrom on his toes. Maneuvering him to a wall, she pins him there and hisses to a previously unseen party to assist in capturing the boy.

Nortromthesilencer

With both the door and the window closer, there was very little light. Nortrom stepped inward more, avoiding tripping on boxes or Madina, and stood still awaiting directions.

The sudden movement and force caused Nortrom to jump, his yelp cut off mid breath by a cloth being abruptly wedged between his teeth. His hands shot up trying to grab hold of her own from behind him, the awkward angle doing little to help, and the shock leaving him off guard long enough for her to shove him against the wall. Even with the cloth making it hard to speak, muffled questions and protests were attempted, Nortrom still trying to push his hand against the wall and free himself from her weight.

“W-wht ar yu dongh?!? Et ee go!”

No longer at ease, he was quite the opposite! Nortrom was terrified, expecting this woman to help him and not assault him. He thrashed, refusing to make things easy for her.

Rizzrack

Madini did not respond to him, instead she only kept him firm against the wall but unable to do anything else. That is until another pair of hands came into the picture, grabbing the boys wrists and securing them together behind his back.

“Me’in iyadereki newi?”

“Lijuni leme shet’i ini mokiraleni.”

“Madini!”

The voices sound nearly identical, giving the illusion that Madini could possibly be talking to herself. One voice is angered, apparently appalled, the other voice trying to calm the first and speaking like this is usual business. They speak in their tongue all while two pairs of paws (one being reluctant) work on binding the boy. Elbows, knees and feet tied tight together, Nortrom is pulled away from the wall and returned to it with his back against it and pushed to the floor. He is faced with the shadow silhouettes of two nearly identical felines. The only difference being their dress and demeanors. They speak to each other, the one that must be Madini trying to reason with the other, and eventually being successful. The twin gives up, only glancing the boy a blank look before stepping out of the room.

“Do not be upset. It is only to make sure you do not get lost again.” ***

He laughed, chuckled, even joked about it. It was his looks. A bald dirty keen trying to help out a child. He must’ve been scary from the start. Of course a lady, feline or not, would be more trustworthy than himself. He may have goofed up once or twice, flustered by the sudden question and not knowing east from west. He was put on the spot! He’s not that foolish…

The feeling continues to linger. It’s a feeling many others have felt, for example, what a child may feel when they see a friend run off to go play with another friend and getting left behind. Perhaps it was silly to get worked up over it, but Rizzrack couldn’t help it. What makes him feel even worse is the last memory will consist of a very miserable looking boy who definitely did not intend to make the keen feel bad. Knowing already how the boy reacts over small mistakes or accidents, Rizzrack can only imagine that he left the boy in tears. Oh no.

“He probably hates me! Probably never wants to see me again. Never ever. But I probably made him feel bad so…” The keen sighs down to his suit. “It’s okay. He’ll get home and be safe… hopefully.” Rizzrack, caught up in his thoughts, slows the suit to a stop and the engine drops into a low idle, but thoughts about the boy refuse to leave his mind. Will he be home safe? Will his parents be happy to see him? Judging how jumpy he was previously… What if they’ll yell at him or punish him for being lost? Even worse, what if they’ll beat him? Thinking on and on about it, he’s suddenly reminded of someone else with a harsh upbringing. Silencer. Rizzrack shakes his head at the thought, imagining that poor boy growing up to be a bitter man like that one. Just get the bad thoughts out of your head, he’s a young timid child. The world can’t be harsh to him. He probably just has strict parents, don’t think too much of it.

The thoughts only keep coming, thoughts about how the child was almost kidnapped, how he could fall to harm, hurt, scared, crying….

Screaming…

“Great, now I’m hearing things.”

Nortromthesilencer

It didn’t matter how he fought, the awkward angle and pulling was just too much and soon able to wrench his hands behind his back, binding them tightly. He winced, biting hard on the cleave of fabric as his shoulders were contorted painfully, rough rope digging into his skin against his will.

Turned around and pushed back, Nortrom let out a sharp exhale as he hit the wall, sliding to the ground and pulling his knees into his chest in fear. He cowed, eyes pleading with them not to do this, tears dotting the bottom on his eyelashes as he shook. Oh gods, what had he gotten himself into?

He tries one more time to cry for help, something, anything. Most likely no one is around to hear…

***

Their last mark had been a bust, and damn were they sour about it. Refusing to walk away empty handed this day, a pathetic looking trio skulked about the dust laden town in looks for their next target. As fate would have it, the nearest shop or storage haven would be owned by a certain cat-like woman, with a target of her own.

Rizzrack

Lijuni why do you let your sister play around in such undesirable practice? She steps about outside to ponder her thoughts in the visibly empty town.. all save for the figures approaching. She remembers them, as not too long ago during a nightly walk she observed them stalking a small caravan along a trail. Suspecting the trio intending foul deeds, she returns inside to see her sister Madini crouched down beside the boy, gently patting his hair and clicking her tongue softly to calm him.

“Madini, lēbochi yimet’alu.”

Her ears perk and her attention is seized away from the boy. Could it be the same bandits earlier that the keen mentioned? If so, they’ll no doubt want the boy and may pay a small sum to take him. If he was their hostage, the ransom they seek will far outweigh the expense made to regain their lost captive. The boy will be back with his family, the bandits will have their gold, and she will have her share. Perfect.

“Lijuni, tewe.” Madini rises from her spot and approaches her twin, stopping the other from barricading the door with crates. They speak more, with Lijuni growing powerless to persuade her sister away from this idea, and Madini pushing her aside to keep an eye on the boy while she steps out.

Immediately she catches sight of the party, and with graceful steps she walks from the wooden porch and approaches them with utmost confidence.

“Se ‘ami newi, my friends. How tired you are. Seek shade within my shop. Look around while you rest. Perhaps I may have something that will interest you as well?” Her voice is smooth, welcoming, so sure that yes, they will find something they will like to get their hands on.

~*~*~*~*~

Did he drink enough? What if he gets sunburn? Or dehydrates? Gets heat exhaustion? Will Madini take care of him? What if she doesn’t know the signs of heat stroke and he dies? Or worse, what if she ignores his pleas for water? What if they get lost? Would she kill and eat him to survive? She’s a predator after all, with those sharp claws and animal eyes.

Images, terrible fantasies, any horror he could think of filled his mind more and more. Why was he feeling this way? He should feel sure knowing the boy is with someone who knows the area. But why does he have his doubts and worries? Does he really trust Madini? She never personally wronged him but…

The suit stops in its tracks. He won’t get over it, but maybe, just maybe if he goes back, maybe to give a proper farewell to the boy that he deserves and to keep good ties with Madini, maybe he’ll feel better. yeah, maybe he’ll feel better.

Timbersaw turns around, stepping back through the dusty dirt towards the town in the distance. It was hot now that the sun was only just now falling from high in the sky and he had no more water on his person, but the trip back won’t take too long and perhaps he could pay a little more gold for some of Madini’s water rations.

Nortromthesilencer

With every pat the child flinches away. Other children may enjoy such coddling, but Nortrom never had that sort of nurturing touch, and to him it felt very unfamiliar and served to make things worse. He whimpered, pulling himself even tighter into a ball.

There was more speaking, more movement, and more words that Nortrom didn’t understand take place. As they spoke he fiddled with his wrists, twisting and turning them, doing little but further rub raw his flesh and cause more pain. Eventually the source of their conversations was made known, a familiar trio stepping into the home.

Nortrom’s eyes widened and he froze. Oh no. No no no.

Upon seeing the child, thoughts of raiding the place anticipated and instead turned into a much more sadistic grin, the bandits stepping closer and chuckling between themselves. “Your right, you do have something that interests us, Kehehe…”

There were negotiations, multiple bartered offered, plans, and more being made over the boy as he could only sit and listen, his own self being nothing more than a commodity to be bickered over. If any looked his way during said discussions, his eyes begged, pleaded for them to reconsider, head shaking slowly. Legs having cramped he was no longer curled up, and in opening his posture he felt even more exposed to their leers and dire intentions. It took every ounce of strength for Nortrom not to blubber like a baby.

Rizzrack

Madini was quite proud of herself, finding buyers she could bargain with, pushing her limits to get as much gold out of it as possible. Lijuni could only stand by and watch the dealings silently. No sympathy was shown for the boy, eyes blind to the fear and tears so that she may not be stirred to interfere with her sister’s work. Finding an amount she’s willing to trade Nortrom for, Madini turns her attention back towards the boy. “I can only imagine the discipline and teaching that went into raising this boy. He is worth a very fine price.” Although she is not intentionally rough, her pulling and forcing him to his feet cause pain, maybe even draw a whimper from the boy. She beckons her sister over to help hold him, and with a paw out, she waits for their payment. “He is all yours.”

~*~*~

Nearly back into town, Rizzrack continues to talk away his worries, convincing himself that everything is fine. There’s no reason to think anything wrong. His intuition wasn’t always right.

Except when…

The suit pauses and the small-keen leans over the cockpit, having caught an interesting detail in the dirt road. Footprints. Not paw pads, but actual boots. Felines weren’t find of footwear, preferring their steps to leave little to no marks or sound on other surfaces. On top of that, these marks broke over his suit’s after he left town. Someone came after him, someone he doesn’t know.

Or does he?

Worried and once again thinking the worse, the suit starts forward again, picking up pace. It can only move so fast without the assistance of a nice trunk to be cut. However it’s not long before he approaches the shop, his eyes trailing the track of foot prints right up the steps.

“Madini? A-are you still here?”

The two felines within tense up and look towards the door. Not wanting to lose her chance, Madini becomes more demanding, nearly shoving her claws into one of the bandit’s face. “Pay now or you don’t get the boy!” she hisses.

Nortromthesilencer

Yanked to his feet and roughly dragged due to being bound, Nortrom gave a muffled yelp through the gag and attempted to hop along as not to fall over. Distracted by everything going on, he doesn’t hear the sound of a voice outside, instead feeling a sharp prick of alert claws digging into his arm where it held him up.

The trio did, however, hear Rizzrack’s voice. They may not recognize it, but could tell Madini was now rushing them because of whoever this was. The smaller, portlier, of the trio dug through his bags, scrounging up what was agreed, shushing the cat to ‘calm her titties’ and stop hurrying them.

With both feline’s attention occupied elsewhere and the men not looking directly at him, Nortrom felt he had little other choice but to take his chances and get the hell out of there. Jumping up he slammed down on Madini foot, the sudden pain forcing her to let go and shout. Another strong leap pushed the boy away from all others and towards the door, his shoulder hitting it hard but not buckling the wood. Expecting he couldn’t break it down, frantic small hands behind his back tried to push the knob around. Not being able to see what he was doing, and having his movement greatly restricted at the elbows, he only just cracked the door open before being grabbed once more.

“What the fuck do you think your doin’ lad?” He was forced forward by the hair, directly into another waiting fist to his gut. Nortrom crumpled forward, as far as he could while being held up painfully by his messy black hair, and groaned. Now their property, the bandits weren’t afraid to prove it to the child through force. A strong armed punch to the face rocked Nortrom forward, slamming into the door, forcing it wide open as he toppled to the ground, “You don’t fuckin’ misbehave, ya hear me?”

Coins were thrown Madini’s way finally, the tallest focused on Nortrom who lie on the ground. After a kick that rolled him onto the side coughing, blood dripping from his previously battered nose, the child tried to curl up into a ball once more and protect himself. About to drag the child up, both men now outside stopped when they saw the cast shadow of a very large, very clunky machine.

They panicked.

One got down to the ground near Nortrom, dragging him closer by the collar, wrapping his arm around the boy’s neck to hold him close as he drew a knife and held it threateningly, “You! Don’t you come any closer!” The edge drew lightly across Nortrom’s cheek, his head pulling away only to be blocked by the arm. He whimpered.

Rizzrack

Madini quickly overcomes her pain, the scattering coins calling to her to gather them from the floor. She does not turn her eyes to the men who beat the boy. preferring to remain ignorant of the pain she’s brought upon him. Instead, she picks up every last coin and slinks her way to the opposite side of the room past the crates and shelves beckoning to her sister to follow her out the window. Unknowing to her, Lijuni does not hear, too distracted by the panic, curious as to who may be outside. They sound familiar.

Within he could hear clattering, yelling, a screech, and the door shake before falling still. Rizzrack watches intently with held breath, focused as his suspicions pulled together and formed a narrative in his mind of what just went on behind that door. What other evidence could he need?

The boy fell through the door before him, battered and beaten. Following him to the ground were two men, recognized to be the bandits from before.

That is it. Overwhelmed by fury, Timbersaw lunges forward, sending metal claws over them and crushing through the wooden door and wall as if it were merely paper, a small demonstration of what he can do to the bandits with ease.

Timbersaw roars and the hand returns to trade it with the saw , but the blade hesitates at the verbal threat. The keen is silent, frozen in place by fear and rage. He can only stare , momentarily held back by his concern for the boy. It’s only then he realizes the damage already done to the poor child. Bound, blade to his face, eyes red from tears and blunt trauma, the sight causes Rizzrack’s blood to boil in his veins. It makes him absolutely sick. He hates himself for leaving the child behind. He takes in the sight of the bandits, and it takes him a good amount of restraint to not immediately throw a blade through their bodies at that very moment.

He hates them more.

Black smoke billows from the exhaust like dragon’s breath. Blades and saw teeth continue to whirl loudly, enough to cause discomfort to one’s hearing and down out most sounds to the keen. If he had heard the boy’s whimper, he would have completely lost it on the spot. Rizzrack falls silent, but everything in his face told them,

try me.

Nortromthesilencer

“Leave the kid behind, it’s not worth it!” Dashing out of the door way, the portly bandit cowers behind his comrades in fear of Rizzrack’s powerful display and revved up blades. The one holding Nortrom shakes his head, getting to his feet and dragging the boy along with him. Being shorter than the bandit, he’s forced up on his toes, struggling to keep up with the steps, breaths cut short by the arm around his neck.

“No. We gotta get back our money, and this is insurance. We drop the boy, no guarantee that freak won’t chase us and cut us down.” The Bandit tightened his grip and took some more slow steps back. Nortrom just softly sniffled, occasionally gulping air. That knife was close, too damned close. Both of the others looked at one another, not sure what to do, “You there! Turn off that machine or I carve him a new mouth!”

Breaking away from the others, one of the bandits stepped aside the house, attempting to shimmy out of Rizzrack’s view. From the splintered door he had grabbed a long piece of wood, thick and stable, and continued to act casually as he side stepped. Just trying to escape, nothing to see here, concentrate on the child… *WHAM!* When finally ignored, he lunged at the Timber-suit and slammed the wooden piece down against the main body. It left a scraped mark across the metal and wooden frame, but much greater damage was done to the makeshift club than Rizzrack’s pride and joy. This didn’t deter the bandit, who continued to whack and smack away at the suit in various places, intent on taking Rizzrack down.

Rizzrack

Timbersaw remains in place, focus never leaving the blade. He leans forward to follow as they drag Nortrom, the keen within fuming and muttering curses under his breath. They give a demand, and if it were any other situation, Rizzrack would have very likely just went after them, but any wrong move and… He doesn’t want to think about it, but he knows he won’t be able to live with himself if that happened. Hands tight on the lever, he takes a breath and prepares to try to negotiate.

“The machine stays on.” The bandit is stubborn, but Rizzrack himself refuses to budge. “You let him go, and I don’t kill you. How about that?”

Wait a second. Weren’t there thr-

CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK

Timbersaw’s top spins around to face the bandit. Claw raises high and swipes, but misses the take down. Claw readies again for another swing, but this time the keen gasps as a shadow begins to fall over him. The reactive armor is activating, and he can’t stop it. “No, no no! STOP!”

Finding no reason to ever need to design the automatic defense system with an emergency stop and only a simple locking mechanism, the dome continues to close. He scrambles first for the lock, but in a panic, he then leaps out of his seat and grasps the rim with his hands, but it’s a futile attempt. It closes, nearly slicing his fingers with the sharp teeth as he pulls away and is left with only small gaps to look from. He’s trapped.

Trapped. And now at the will of the bandits.

Timbersaw does not move. In fact, the engine ceases and armor stays shut for as long as the other bandit beats it.

“Okay! Okay! It’s off!” Frustration and fear wavers his voice. He’s desperate now. There’s little he can see, little he can do. He may as well be their second captive. “Let him go and I’ll give you all the gold I have. Please.” His pitiful pleas reverb beneath the metal dome. He pants and gasps. It’s getting hot in here.

Nortromthesilencer

Not only are the bandits confused, but Nortrom as well. Seeing the suit clam shut and Rizzrack suddenly acquiesce to their demands stops all parties watching on, wondering if this is some elaborate ruse or a technical error.

Wooden plank still in hand, the closest reacts with one last smack against the arm of the machine before pulling back slightly, looking to the others and shrugging.

“Just how much gold are we talkin’?” Machine now off, the tallest relaxes his grip slightly, arms lowering so that Nortrom can touch the ground better. The child gasps, catching his breath in wavering pants and soft sobs. Were he not tied he might be able to do something, to help in some way. Instead, he can barely move without falling over. How pitiful. Nortrom figures that if he was going to be abused no matter where he was, he would much rather it be back at the cantonment where he was familiar and sheltered.

“You actually trust that pink freak to do it?”

“Shuddap. As long as we get paid, and live, I don’t care who has the kid. A pack of cannibals could buy him for all I care.” More steps back, this time dragging Nortrom along instead of forcing him to hop. He didn’t trust that this wasn’t a trick by the keen, and would rather run the hell away. Too bad it was hard to run with the kid in tow. “If you got enough gold, leave it on the ground and back up. It better pay us even or no deal!”

Rizzrack

“O-okay, okay!”

He fumbles through the cramped confines of his suit. It feels so much smaller than usual. His eyes sting from the sweat that drops down. It keeps getting hotter. Hold yourself together, stay calm. He finds his gold and can only hope he  has enough. Please let it be enough.

The keen’s hands pat around the dome above him. It won’t budge open any time soon, and forcing it open will only keep him stuck longer like tugging at a finger trap. He starts to take the gold coins from the pouch, flicking them between the dome’s teeth and out to the ground. “H-here!” It’s a mess, like throwing corn to chickens. Once the pouch is empty, he continues to plead. The suit stays where it stands, off.

“That’s all I have!”

Nortromthesilencer

Motioning to the portly one, hands still fixed in place holding the child, the other frowns at how much of a burden this all was. Still hiding, the other didn’t move. No way was he getting closer to that– that– THING! With a resigned sigh, the closest rolled his eyes and threw down his plank of wood, going about collecting and counting the gold. Minutes passed under the hot sun, and then, “It’s more than we paid. Not a lot, but it’s something.”

The tallest nodded. “Fine, you have a deal, freak.” Pulling himself from around Nortrom’s neck, he let the kid get his own balance before taking the knife to his bindings. First the elbows, then the knees. Then the feet, and finally the hands. He held Nortrom with one hand by the arm, wondering if they could indeed trust that this Keen wouldn’t come after them once he had the kid back.

Internally, Nortrom’s mind was racing. His captor was hesitating and not letting go; Were they even going to free him, or was this all a show before forcing him to run off? More time ticked by, the standoff feeling as though it had gone on forever. His pulse raced, sweat collecting across his tunic and soaking into the thin fabric, nerves elevated to the small gusts of wind that passed. As his thoughts grew more frantic, he became more desperate. More seconds. More waiting. No. He wasn’t going to let them run off with him, damnit! He was stronger than that!

Twisting in place, the boy lifted the hand that held him to his face and bit down hard. The skin broke as he pulled away, bloody muscles and tendons ripping, gore gathering across Nortrom’s face. The pain forced a scream from the bandit, other hand dropping the knife to grab his injury. Nortrom ducked down to the ground to avoid any retaliation, scrambling to grab the knife as he skittered forward in the space between them and Rizzrack. While one bandit reeled in pain, another kept hiding, and the third approached fast.

Nortrom threw the knife.

He may not have been a mage. He may have failed casting any spells and been mocked incessantly for it, but what he lacked in arcane power he made up for in other studies and training. Nortrom didn’t have magic but he did have damned good aim. A bit too good…

The knife landed with a sickening crunch, blade embedded deep into the attacker’s forehead. It took some time for his body to connect with what was happening, frame lurching forward a few unstable steps, blood seeping from around the hilt and out of his nose, arms limply pulled at his sides. One step. Two steps. By the third his nervous system had caught up, the rest of his muscles going limp and sending him crashing to the ground. Dust puffed up where he landed, settling in messy piles across his clothing, clinging to the sanguine leakage from his face.

The adrenaline was dropping fast. Nortrom fell on his behind, kicking back away a couple of paces before freezing, eyes wide, only now realizing what he had just done. His jaw dropped. After everything that had just happened to him, and now this, the boy broke down and started to bawl.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack can only look helplessly from the gap of the armor, but even that granted the keen little vision of what goes on on outside. The bright light entering into the dark suit blinds him and he can only hope to listen. Scratching sounds, the click of currency, their acceptence. The keen sighs, trembling, anxious to know if they’ll follow through. Cutting sounds, it seems like it.

Then a scream.

His blood runs cold. What’s going on!? The sounds of a scuffle has the keen’s nose practically pressed through the small gap. What is happening? There’s a crack… a thud… silence…

Then sobbing.

Sobbing.

What did they do??

The suit twitches, claw fingers flex… then it moves.

Timbersaw charges forward, metal foot stomping down beside the child nearly crushing him, the other foot moving inches above and over his head before landing back down upon the skull of the fallen bandit with a gooey crunch. Blind rage guides the mecha to the gold-holding bandit slack-jawed by his partner’s demise. With a shriek his arms fly up in fear as the last thing he sees are metal claws closing in.

Timbersaw lifts the cretin by the head. There is no mercy, no second thought to his actions. He hangs the struggling body close and lets the midsection blades do the work. Blood spatters all around, showering the dry dust with the red rain it thirsts for. The earth is not the only thing bathed. That’s two down, one to go. Tossing away the shredded remains, Timbersaw swings the saw arm forward. He will FIND that last bandit. It detaches. Like a glowing disc from hell it whirs through the air and chews through the wooden shop, leaving a disaster only a tornado could match.

Lijuni never left. She only watched, She regret staying. The feline ducked, nearly missing a beheading. The other bandit was not so lucky. She scrambled and screeched, clawing and bounding for protection. The structure cracked and within moments it all fell. Crashing wood drowns out the screams until all that’s left is the buzzing of the sawblade. It returns to the arm it comes from, but the pilot is far from satisfied. Tearing through the wreckage, the limp body of the feline is salvaged. Lijuni is held up to the still-closed armor of the suit, but she is seen all the same.

“If it weren’t for  you, none of this would have happened at ALL!”

The first slam.

Her body is flung back down, wheezed gasps unheard beneath the cracking and splintering debris. Her body rises again to meet her reflection in the blood that coats the armored dome.

“N-e’eh, pl-” “Do you know WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?” Her body is flung down again. Spears of wood pierce her body, puncturing lungs, stabbing organs. She is a fighter, but her struggles to escape the grip are too weak and meaningless. She rises again, and falls again, rises, falls… the pain grows distant, the sky dark…

Saws and teeth come to a halt. Timbersaw is motionless, painted with blood and holding a fur bag of broken bones. The claws open, releasing the corpse  and only then does the armor finally begin to open. Rizzrack is revealed. Condensation drips from within and back onto his dry skin. His usually pink-tipped nose and ears are flushed a vibrant red. His pupils were dilated, quick to contract from the bright light. Delirious, he slumps over the dashboard, grasping at something unseen. Slowly coming to his senses, he struggles out of the suit, practically dropping to the ground into the mess of feline blood.

….

“I’m so sorry.”

Rizzrack looks down to the bloody boy. With shuddering breathe he can only whisper out one last apology before dropping to his knees and wailing into his palms.

Nortromthesilencer

The carnage was all around him, physically inescapable. Nortrom remained kneeling on the ground, tears filling his eyes but not sobbing any longer. He had cried himself out, throat raw, blood drying over his jaw and from his nose. Where he was punched his eye was swollen half shut, bruised, and very much out of place with the vacant wide eyed stare that looked onward. Not at the blood, the death, or the destruction, but past it.

The boy may have been there, on the ground, in the middle of it all, but he wasn’t there mentally, retreated inwards and dissociating from it all, a quiet place, a silent place. He came here often to escape the pain and neglect, yet as of this point he knew not where he would go. The adult knew. The adult understood. The child, not so much.

He didn’t hear Rizzrack coming to his side, the Keen’s tears, or the gradual crashing of the building as it’s remaining supports give out. No, he heard nothing. It was peaceful here, not thinking about the fact he had just murdered someone. It was silent, there were no bodies. There was no blood. There was only himself, alone.

A familiar place. His place.

Rizzrack

The keen rocks back and forth. Between gasps and sobs he cried his mantra. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry” Pulling his hands away from his face, he looks back up to the boy. His state, it’s familiar. Not something he’s seen, but felt. Actually, it’s not even a feeling. It’s an absence of it, a numbness. When everything becomes too much to take in. When you’ve realized your world’s come crashing down, reduced to a small workshop crushed beneath the weight of vines and roots, and life as you know it is gone… You end up looking like that.

Destroyed. Traumatized.

Another sob and his heart goes out to the boy. Rizzrack drags his knees as he brings himself closer to the child. Slowly but without hesitation he brings his arms to embrace the child’s shoulders. At least he doesn’t have to be alone. Don’t let him be alone. His touch is gentle. Hands pet the child’s back, finding no other way to bring comfort.

When was the last time he cried like this? Not too long ago,after learning of the pain Silencer went through in his childhood… Why must the world be cruel to such youth?But something occurs to the keen that did not before. He slowly pulls away from the boy and looks to his eye. A familiar blue… His hair raven black…and that place…

Hazhadal Barrens. Rizzrack knew he recognized that name. That’s where the Silencer was raised with a strict upbringing. An upbringing that could cause a child to be so meek, so disciplined.

His breath is shallow, a result of being absorbed and lost within his thoughts. He snaps out of it, once again facing the boy before him. Eyeing his features, a theory burns in his mind, a crazy one he can’t ignore.

Is it possible?

The voice is soft, unsure, but desperate to know.

…

“Nortrom?”

Nortromthesilencer

Hearing that name snapped the boy out of his trance with a jolt. He gasped, breathing so shallow before and now his lungs craving, no, demanding to be filled. He looked about, again seeing the vile display before him, this time noting the keen. Was it his voice? Pushing himself up more with his hands, the boy looked at Rizzrack with fear and fought the urge to back away. To run.

“Ho–How… How do you know my…?” Was knowing who he was the cause of all of this? Trust was in short supply, and Nortrom didn’t wish to give away what he had left so easily. Not again.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack is… He’s not sure what to think. He really wasn’t expecting his thoughts to be confirmed, and now here he is with this kid who might just be the Silencer. How?

He might sound crazy, maybe he is. His hands grasp the boy’s shoulders. “Nortrom, I… This is so…” He take a breath and sighs, letting go of the boy so that his hands may instead go to his head while he tries to make sense of things. “I know your name because… because you look like a frie-… someone I know.” His arms fall back to his sides, still finding the thought to be utterly ridiculous. “You just reminded me of him. Hah, I didn’t think I’d be seeing the Silencer again in any way. I had to go away. Do you know why? Because I did something terrible to him. Ahaha…”

A twisted, pained smile as he whispered that end to himself. The boy doesn’t need to know any more horrors. “Because I thought I was doing something right. And now? I only wanted you safe.” His voice trails off in a whimper but the keen is determined to keep himself together.

Nortromthesilencer

Now he was both terrified and even more confused. Nortrom pushed back, refusing Rizzrack’s attempted comfort and placing a short gap between them. Able to take in the sights without being completely lost, he took a deep breath and got to his feet. It smelt disgusting, burnt, dusty, and… familiar. It still smelt familiar.

Turning his back to the keen, he looked at the body of the man he killed. Now crushed, the initial image of a knife sticking out from his skull remained. Nortrom did that. It would be dishonorable to the man, to the event, if he denied that fact. Nortrom knew he couldn’t hide from what had happened, and now given some time to process it, he didn’t want to.

“Nortrom. My name is Nortrom, of Aeol Drias,” Yes the Keen knew this now, but it felt more formal to give an actual introduction when before he denied to give his name. After all of this, there was no point in protecting his identity, “And I am a murderer.” He stood up straight, strong, defiant. Nortrom took a swiveling step and faced Rizzrack head on, wiping the blood and tears from his face.

“I did it to protect myself. That doesn’t make me a bad person, does it?”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack reached out, afraid to lose him again. But the child did not run. He stands tall and faces the reality about him. The keen looks up at Nortrom, unseeing of it. He no longer sees an innocent child, and his statement sends a chill down his spine. On his knees he pleads for him to renounce his statement. “No, don’t say that!“ He stammers through his horror.

“Killing monsters isn’t murder. You’re not a bad person.”

The grim surroundings burn into the keen like glares from a damning crowd. He knows what he did, but refuses to believe it is murder. He never murdered anyone. He never will.

Nortromthesilencer

While facing reality may have been his intent, Nortrom still found himself paralyzed by it all the more he thought on it. Standing there, looking at the keen, the blood, the ground, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Why did you come back?” It looked so very surreal, this young boy unflinching as death and decay rotted the very air around them, holding tight in a transfixing gaze his ability to move. The child huffed, lifting his tunic from his belt to continue to wipe his face. It stung.

“Thank you though. I’m sorry I doubted you; I just wanted to go home.” Another small sniffle. Nortrom forced his eyes shut and took several deep breaths. He couldn’t allow himself to cry any more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Rizzrack

“I came back because I was-” His explanation is interrupted by the thanks, and Rizzrack finds it unneeded to restart and instead let Nortrom speak. “Don’t apologize.” He feels he should be one the doing that. He made the boy doubt, he made the boy afraid, he left the boy behind against his own intuition. This was more his fault than anyone else’s. Here comes the guilt again. Well, it never left in the first place. It always lingered, and now it’s a new wound over a scab.

Rizzrack stands to his feet. His knees wobble, as earlier’s rampage and the heat of the day leaves him exhausted and burnt out. He wants nothing more than to ease the boy, tell him it’s alright, but Nortrom seems to be handling it well on his own. A feat that awes the keen. “Like you yourself said, you were only  protecting yourself. Now let’s get out of here.”  Finding nothing else to say, he turns away back towards his suit and makes what feels to be a long walk. His eyes stay straight ahead and above the wreckage, but do what he may to avoid the sight, he can’t avoid the blood upon the Timbersaw.

Rizzrack returns, this time careful to avoid stepping in head gore.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, but I”ll be honest. I’m afraid. I don’t want to be… I don’t want you to be alone.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom flinches as the timbersuit walked up to him. Could he really trust this keen? Yes they returned and seemed very much willing to help, but they also murdered and proved to be lost. He sighed. Not like he could judge, the blood was on his hands too.

Rubbing his wrists where the ropes cut his skin raw and red, the boy looked down. In an effort to not cry again, he focused on everything else he was feeling instead, mindful of what was going on in his body. The pain of the rope burns, the torn corners of his mouth where the cloth had been cleaved tight, the bruised eye that stung with every blink, and the deep rumble in his gut.

“I’m hungry.”

Nortrom looked up at Rizzrack as he pilot the suit, showing his intent to follow the keen. It was obvious he wasn’t as stable as he let on, the inner turmoil fighting as he pushed it back.

“Can we leave? I don’t want to stay here any longer, sir.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack looks down to the boy just as exhausted as he. “Yes.” He wipes his glove across his face, smearing dirt with the thin film of sweat he can still manage to produce. It feels as if steam is blowing from his ears. Any more longer out here and there could be many more consequences to follow. They need water. They need food. There is a river  to the north from where Rizzrack had traveled from and did not expect to be traveling back through any time soon. It was not very far from the Silencer’s home and at that point the keen realizes that’s the home he needs to go to.

“Don’t panic. I’m going to carry you.”

Quite suddenly the claw comes down. It does not grab the boy roughly, it just merely nudges him onto the flat of the saw blade with unmoving teeth. Parallel to the Timbersaw’s mid-drift it acts as a makeshift bench. Something similar to what it did not too long ago. Once adjusted, the suit begins its walk.

“Now let’s get out of here.”

The boy may only notice once they leave the town that they aren’t exactly going west towards the supposed location of the Hazhadal Barrens. The keen suspects this. “I will take you home, I promise that. But…” he sighs, licking his lips and finding himself to be quite parched. “But we need to get to the closest river, and that’s thirty miles north of here… fifty kilometers… quite a ways.”

The suit speed picks up speed and could quite easily match the pace of a jogging human, maybe even surpass it. Even so, at that rate it will take at the very least a couple of hours to reach the destination. Rizzrack can only hope that despite the bumpy ride, perhaps the boy could find a moment of rest.

At least the light breeze is somewhat soothing.

Nortromthesilencer

Don’t panic? This machine of death and blades, so close and now picking him up, and the Keen tells him not to panic? The look on Nortrom’s face betrays his previously calm demeanor, hands gripping white knuckled to the claw and eyes staring at the previously spinning blades. Even sitting down the boy is tense, knowing what this damned machine was capable of now. It wasn’t so much awe inspiring any more as it was terrifying.

“That’s quite a detour…” One last look back before leaving that hellish scene behind, the scene of victim-hood. That scene of the crime; Many crimes. Nortrom leaned back against the body of the suit, his head above the lip where the control panel was. He made sure not to let his head lull in Rizzrack’s way as they traveled. Feeling exausted, the boy yawned. He knew sleep wasn’t an option, nerves still on edge, no matter now tired he was.

“Um… Could I ask you a question sir? Why– Er, No… Do most people out here try to take advantage of others?” That wasn’t the greatest wording, especially for Nortrom. He hummed, thinking of a better way to put his thoughts, “Let me try again: What do I keep doing wrong so that everyone wants to hurt me? This can’t be normal.”

Rizzrack

It was quiet for a while. Rizzrack finding it hard to initiate any small talk. He didn’t have the energy or breath to talk. The boy wants an answer however. “Because they’re evil monsters.” The boy reworded his question and Rizzrack feels obligated to try and give a more meaningful answer.

“You’re right. It’s not normal. Sometimes bad things happen to us. On purpose or on accident, but no matter how it happens, there’s a why, there’s always a reason. That reason isn’t you, but it is you. Does that make sense?” He pauses to think of a better way to express the thought. “There are people who only want to gain things for themselves. They see their victim and think to themselves ‘how can I abuse this innocent being to my own advantage?’ They lure you in with promises of love, promises of protection. Then they slowly begin to take from you while fooling you into believing it’s for a good cause. Then when you begin to doubt their kindness, they twist your words on you and make you out to be wrong. They take more and more until the blood loss leaves you dizzy and weak, then when there’s nothing left to be gained of you, they try to kill you because you’re worthless to them! Hahah! Isn’t that something??”

Throughout the speech his voice gradually grew in volume. So caught up was he within his own memories and experiences that the end of it all, he was cackling breathlessly. Taking a moment to recover, he makes a small apology and blames it on the heat.

“You can’t trust everyone. Sometimes you can only trust yourself, and that’s where your intuition comes in. I don’t always listen to mine, and look what happens, bad things happen.”

Nortromthesilencer

He listens intently to the rant, legs stretched out at an angle down the blade. Occasionally the boy nods, understanding, feeling that he’s heard a very similar speech some time before.

“My intuition,” he idly commented at the end, looking up at the sky above, “is that you’re not a bad person despite all of this. You don’t know me but you want to help. I don’t know you but even if you’re kinda strange, you seem nice.”

Nicer than most, anyways. Nicer than the other children. Nicer than his teachers. Nicer than those cat people or bandits. Nortrom didn’t know how to word it, or what to say due to a real lack of experience of people being nice to him, but he appreciated it all the same.

“It’s getting darker, sir. How much longer do you think until the sun sets?”

Rizzrack

“Oh!” He nearly squeaks, surprised.  “I’m touched… I think.”

It’s a compliment that calms him from working himself up by his own thoughts. At least the boy is honest, and Rizzrack is once again reminded of who this child really is. There is sadness, but along with it there is a little more appreciation for the Silencer.

The keen remains quiet until the boy speaks up again. “Hmm?” He wasn’t aware of it until it’s pointed out. Based on how much lower the sun is, it must be the start of evening. It felt like only minutes ago it was the afternoon. “Er….”

It’s been so long since he last used a clock. For years and years the ability to tell time never relied on a visual of marks or numbers, but instead on a feeling and how long it took to perform certain tasks or to travel from one place to another. He knew they would reach the river and clean up with plenty of time to spare before the sun vanished. The keen hums and glances at the odometer on his dashboard. “I would say two hours, give or take.”

They had already traveled far enough that Rizzrack knew that they were getting close. The change of the landscape from mostly dry dirt and scare vegetation to much more scattered green confirmed those feelings. Metal feet kick through small shrubs as they stop at the edge of water.

Beautiful, cool, flowing water.

Lowering the blade so that the boy may get down easily, Rizzrack himself lacks the patience to deny his tongue of water any longer. Crawling down from his suit as fast as he can, he tosses aside his helmet and practically goes face first into the river.

blblbblbl

He raises his head and dunks it repeatedly, alternating between gasps of breath and gulps of water. Finally satisfied he pulls back out of the river to catch his breath while slinging off his gloves so that he could wipe water and dirt from his face.

“Aaah…” He looks back to the kid. He nearly forgot about him. “Hey. Nortrom, come. Get a drink. Then let’s get you cleaned up, you’re a mess.”

Nortromthesilencer

The air feels lighter, more humid, as they get closer. The boy remains awake in silent contemplation, the sights and sounds all new to him and something to enjoy. It’s a much needed calming after such a stressful afternoon.

Nortrom hops off the blade at a much more leisure pace than Rizzrack, walking to the water’s edge. Taking his his boots and leg wrappings off, the boy sits on an elevated rock on the bank and dips his toes in. The kiss of cold water made him gasp in surprise, having to try again little by little until he got used to the feeling. As he let his feet splash, Nortrom bent forward and washed his hands before taking some water in them, cupping it to his face and enjoying the crisp taste.

Spending some time just watching, drinking, and waiting, he finally could forget all about what had happened and instead focus on what was happening. He was lost, he didn’t know how he got here, and he didn’t know how to get back. Nortrom sighed, leaning forward again to stare at his reflection. There was blood on his face still, eye discoloured and puffy, and something else, something stirring in his memories…

“Mirror…” The word was said without thought, something about it felt memorable, the tug of recollection just out of reach, “A mirror! I remember a mirror, that’s how I got here!” Excitement bounced his feet, splashing away the reflection as he turned to grin at Rizzrack with a uncharacteristic look of elation. He was proud that he remembered something, even if it was so little. But what else?

“I– I remember a mirror. Something happened, and I woke up near where you found me.” Nortrom scrunched his face and grunted, a childlike gesture of wracking his brain for more clues, “Hmmgh… I can’t remember why though…”

Rizzrack

Giving the boy his personal space to care for himself, Rizzrack continued to clean his face and go for another drink. This time he cups his hands to bring water to his mouth instead of dunking his head to drink. Nortrom’s enthusiastic exclamation surprises him and the keen momentarily splutters and coughs, fearing for just a brief moment that the boy got hurt.

He looks to him. “Hem.. M-mirror?” he squeaks, still clearing his throat around the word. Another cough. “Some sort of magic mirror?” he doesn’t know much about the Silencer, even less about him as a child, but Rizzrack does know based on their little mishap with a hexing staff that Nortrom can have unexpected results with enchanted objects. “Can you remember where the mirror was? Or if there were any people?”

Nortromthesilencer

More scrunching of the face, it looking very comical with his already injured face. Becoming frustrated by the fact nothing was coming to him, the boy pouted. “I don’t know. Let me think.”

Nortrom slips his shirt off, dunking it in the water and using it to clean himself off. Taking a smooth rock from the water, he then starts to clean the blood and dirt from his shirt with it, back and forth, a typical laundry routine.

“Hm… I remember wooden walls.” That detail me have been mundane to most, but Nortrom was raised in a cantonment built mostly of sandstone and granite, so pure wooden walls like that of a cabin would stand out to the child, “It was quiet. I don’t… No, I don’t recall any voices.”

His head was starting to hurt thinking so hard about this, and he imitated the Keen by dunking his head under the water a few times. Up and drying himself off, the child spoke under his breath, “Maybe I actually managed to cast a spell…?”

Rizzrack

A spell? The keen lets out a few chuckles. “Hah, Nortrom, you cast a sp-” He stops himself to rethink his words. Adult Nortrom is about as magically gifted as Rizzrack himself. But just because that’s a fact the keen is aware of, he shouldn’t talk down the kid. He doesn’t know. “It’s.. it’s possible! It sounds like you’re really close to solving this mystery.” Finding it shameful to gaze at people bathing (as he himself would dislike being watched), Rizzrack grabs his helmet and turns his eyes down to the water to take care of getting something to eat. Pecking under rocks with his fingers, he begins fishing out crawfish and tossing them into his bucket helm.

“So if it was a spell, what do you think it was for?”

Nortromthesilencer

Even though Rizzrack cut off his jab mid-word, Nortrom heard it, and knew full well what he was going to say. At that moment he didn’t wonder why Rizzrack would have known he had issues with casting, but instead remembered every other time he was mocked, doubted, jeered at, and belittled for being unable to use magic. The boy shrunk in his own frame, going silent. Of course it was ridiculous to think he could have ever cast something.

He didn’t answer the Keen’s other question, instead silently finishing cleaning himself off without a word or change of expression. What a foolish thought. Casting a spell. You? In your dreams. The boy’s mirthful grin was gone. He knew better.

Rizzrack

As Rizzrack was not looking directly at the boy, he only thought the silence was due to him being deep in thought. He continues digging through the bed, waiting for an answer. But the silence is unusually long. The child’s chatter is gone. Realizing that his laughter was probably the biggest tell-tale of it, he makes another attempt to salvage the moment. “Whatever the spell was, it definitely did something…?”

It finally dawns on him that the damage was done and once again he is acquainted with regret and guilt. Just be quiet Rizzrack you’ll just make things worse. After collecting a few of the little snappy critters, he sifts water in and out of the helmet to get rid of any mud they may have been covered in.

Silence. Silence. Silence.

He thinks about it, and thinks about it. Children can be cruel too.

Uncommon were the days where he as a child was able to join the other young keen on the streets. Showing off their toys, bragging about inventions their mothers may have created and holding contests about who’s father was smarter.

“My dad can count all the sand grains on the beach!” “Oh yeah? MY dad can count all the stars in space!!” “And Rizzrack’s dad can count all the rocks on his shovel!” “HEY!”

It may have been in jest, but the mere fact that his father grew up an orphan working the mines was far from brag-worthy. In fact, it was the equivalent of amounting to nothing. No family trade to continue, no master to be an apprentice to. An uneducated fool to many of the neighbors, but Rizzrack knew his father was wise in his own way.

Silence still.

“Nortrom.” Rizzrack sets the helm aside and wades over to the boy. “Look, you… You may not see it, but you are special. You’re terrible with magic. It’s not because of you… but it’s also because of you. How do I go about explaining this? Okay, I don’t get magic either. Not everyone does. That’s why I have technology. We find our strength through weakness. And you, you have something, something FAR more amazing that I’ve never seen come from anyone else! The strength you will find within you is just… It’s beyond my comprehension, really.” The keen sighs. “I”m sorry I laughed it’s just… I know you. The older you. And honestly? I‘m jealous. You’re smarter than me, stronger than me, taller than me… You’re the Silencer.”

Nortromthesilencer

Perhaps it was stress, built up and festering under the skin, a disgusting wound just waiting to burst. Perhaps it was from hunger. Perhaps he was tired. Most likely all three, but Nortrom remained silent only this time with his shoulders occasionally twitching. A few more seconds and his breaths could be heard, a quiet sniffle giving away the fact that yes, he was crying.

“What are you even talking about??” large blue eyes looked at the Keen now, wet and red, a slow draw of tears trailing down his cheeks as he accusingly store at the keen, “How do you know me?!? How do you know all this!?” Nortrom lurched forward, falling closer to Rizzrack and supporting himself up with his hands to lay in a crawling position on the stony ground. He looked up, trembling, voice wavering in panicked breaths, “What do you mean you know me?”

None of this made sense. Being here in the first place, barely remembering what had happened before, the Keen’s familiarity with name his lack of spellmanship, and now saying that they knew him as an adult? How? He was here, 10 years old, and that was the truth. How could anyone know him in another instance of time? What was even going on?

Nortrom grabbed his own head, burrying his eyes in his palms and keeling.

“I want to go home!”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack didn’t know how the boy would react, but he didn’t imagine it to be like this. This isn’t want he wanted. Trying not to panic, he desperately pats the air down. “C-calm down! Please don’t cry I’m just-This is hard to explain but I ca-” Seeing the boy fall, he follows down onto a knee. His hands are out but he does not touch the boy in fear of getting another bad reaction from it. It hurt Rizzrack to see this. He can’t do anything right for him. Nothing at all. The hurt, the confusion, the frustration. Oh, the frustration. He’s getting tired, and his patience suddenly vanishes as he hits the bottom of the pity bucket. Sympathy drains. He would never imagine himself to be this way with youth, yet here he goes.

He grabs the  boy’s shoulders and roughly pushes him back to sit on his heels. His own tear filled eyes looked into the boy’s as he yells out in exasperation.

“Grow up!”

Nortromthesilencer

Panic sets in, a response to protect himself when expecting to be harmed, hit, or abused in some way. He’s felt it all too many times before, the loss of patience of another before they lashed out and took out their frustrations and stress on him. Nortrom forcefully shoved the keen away and sprung to his feet, “Get away from me!”

Jumping to his feet and forgetting about what had been removed previously, shoes, wraps, and tunic, the boy puts a few feet distance between him and Rizzrack. “Why? Because you know me as a grown up? Because I’m obviously a useless burden like this?!?” He looks hurt, angry, sad, and a mixture of so many feelings that even Nortrom doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

Gritting his teeth, he turns and runs away from Rizzrack and into the brush, shouting out one last thing, “FINE!”

The Keen wanted him to grow up? Fine, grown up’s don’t need help. Nortrom kept running, the river long past and the greenery getting thicker. His feet stung from the thistles and stones, and his lungs were heaving as he went. The boy wasn’t sure for how long he kept going, only knowing that he wasn’t going to stop until he couldn’t move any longer. Stupid Mirror. Stupid Keen. Stupid self… Mostly that last one, this was all his fault and he knew it.

Tripping over a bump in the ground from his feet growing numb, the boy lands hard and rolls, stopping on his side. He doesn’t move, instead gripping tight to his sides as he heaves and gasps for air from running for so long. The efforts made to wash himself were all but wasted now, mud caking up and down his body and trousers, but Nortrom didn’t care. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered, he didn’t matter.

Grow up, the boy thought bitterly, I wish I could. Then maybe people wouldn’t hurt me.

Rizzrack

He didn’t expect the boy to retaliate. Rizzrack fell back and submerged. The keen isn’t fond of water, not used to frequently bathing and when he did he was reluctant to ever go underwater. He flails and splashes about before finally sitting up in the shallow water. He gasps, frantically brushing water from his face and nose until he finally calms and catches his breath. That’s when he sees the boy is gone and a nice trail of wet footprints telling of where he ran off to.

He wanted to yell out, he wanted to retort and call him out for being so childish. Rizzrack slaps down the water angrily with his hands. Fine! I don’t care! I just wanted to help! He’s going to have to accept that he won’t ever become mage! Brat!! The keen rises from the water and steps out of the river. Everything is dripping as he never bothered to take anything but the gloves off. He walks past the boy’s belongings and goes over to his helmet to angrily place it on his head.

A shower of water and sharp pinchers greets him. He slaps the shellfish away, finding any feeling of hunger to have vanished as he goes to retrieve his gloves, slipping one after the other and then flapping about as he bitched and moaned under breath.

“I tried to apologize! I tried to help! I saved him! Ungrateful!” No longer did he view Nortrom as the child he is now, but instead saw him as the man he knows he is. “I’m telling him the truth! I’m being honest! I did everything I could for him! Why… why when I was his age, I didn’t have anyone! It was just me! And… and  you!” He points to the Timbersuit off by the shrubs. It lowly purrs, saying nothing. “I tried to give him what I didn’t have! I tried to care for him! I tried to help him! I did it all to no benefit for myself! What… what did I do wrong!?” He paces about, palms tapping his forehead as he wracked his brain for an answer.

He treated him like someone he wasn’t. Silencer is who he could become, but isn’t who he already is. He is just a child, and although he has so much still to learn about the world, he wasn’t ready for all of that to hit him in one moment. It was too much. The cruelty of strangers wasn’t just a lesson taught to young Nortrom by the bandits alone. Rizzrack is just as guilty as harming him, and now the keen thinks he knows where he went wrong.

Rizzrack wished he never said his name. Rizzrack wished he never looked into his eyes. He wished he never left the boy behind, that he never went into that town, that the container of fuel never fell and broke. So many things. So many regrets. Sobbing at the edge of a river and feeling regret doesn’t do anything, however. He looks over to Nortrom’s abandoned clothing. His heart aches. He cares, and he wishes he didn’t.

Fabric and shoes are bundled up and tossed into the suit. Rizzrack follows and heavy metal steps crunch through the brush and out into the dusk-painted landscape. As much as he regret first saying the name, he knew he had to call it out. “Nortrom!” He went so long calling him by Silencer out of spite ever since the man took offense to being called ‘Nortie’.  Ever since then, keeping the relationship as something impersonal and unfriendly to convince Rizzrack to keep any fond feelings or positive thoughts out of the picture was the only reason he persisted. It didn’t work for very long.

“Nortrom!!” The wet footprints were gone now, having vanished into the dry earth some distance back. Rizzrack has no idea where he may have run, and can only hope he kept to one direction. Maybe the boy had no idea where he wanted to go. Maybe he just wanted to get away. The blood crusted suit continues on, the pilot desperately still crying out to the boy.

Nortromthesilencer

One the ground, wet, muddy, and sore, Nortrom is quick to learn just how cold it is outside without shoes or a shirt. His grip on his sides tightens and he curls up, crying becoming nothing more than a pathetic whimper and sniffle. He doesn’t hear the calls at first, and when the first hint of his name is carried on the wind the boy cringes. Maybe if he stays quiet he’ll be left alone. Maybe if he stays here he’ll just disappear and no one will miss him. The sad oddity of a 10 year old thinking about his own death and wanting to die was lost on Nortrom, too caught up in self hate. They said he was a burden, so why would they care if he vanished?

Rizzrack didn’t relent. The voice got louder, and Nortrom knew he was getting closer. Nortrom groaned and rolled on to his back, arms splayed out, legs apart, a carpet of flesh and mud on the ground. Maybe if he was lucky that giant robot saw thing would step on him and crush him, putting an end to this.

Silencer. What a joke. He was probably mocking me for failing as a mage, who would call someone ‘silencer’ anyways?

Rizzrack

The ground crunches beneath every step the suit takes until it comes to a halt. The keen is silent, making out the form of the boy laying upon the earth in the dim glow of the evening. Lucky thing, for if he looked any smaller, likely wouldn’t have seen him. With a shuddering breath the keen is relieved. He shuts off his suit. It’s silent, save for the soft chirping of crickets, the gentle breeze through blades of grass and the light brush of feet across the ground. A short figure stands besides the boy with arms full.

“You… you left your clothes. It’s cold out here at night. You’ll need these.”

Nortromthesilencer

Drat, his plan was foiled. Nortrom rolls on to the opposite side of the keen and culls up defiantly, “Good. Maybe I’ll freeze out here.” A few seconds pass, and guilt eats at the boy, so used to obeying authority and not protesting. He rolls back again, this time to face the keen, “… Thank you, sir.” It sounded soft and reluctant, but Nortrom couldn’t bring himself to be any more of a dick to the closest thing to an adult around here.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack made no move but to only look down upon the boy and sigh. He could only wait. His brows creased, expression like a father who patiently waits for his toddler to grow tired of pouting. It’s quick, and he hands the articles over one by one as they’re placed back on. “You really don’t have to call me sir. You can just call me Rizzrack.” Handing over the last piece, he sits on the ground across the patch and faces Nortrom. His breath shudders, signifying that he too had got done crying as well not too long ago.

This is a quite familiar setting.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn’t have lost my patience.” His voice cracks somewhere in there, so he attempts to speak softer. “I’m just a crazy little keen who said a whole lot of things you didn’t need to hear or know. If I were in your place I would have been just as scared. Maybe more.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom was ashamed of losing control like that, and hid his eyes from the keen even after getting dressed. He sits cross legged, head cast downward, hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry for acting immature, si— er, Rizzrack.” About now would be the time he would be hit, yelled at, and locked away for disobeying and being beligerant, yet Nortrom for once in his life assumes that won’t be the case. He dips his head even further, an apologetic gesture, a pathetic gesture.

“I’ve caused you nothing but trouble. I don’t know what’s going on, or why, but I do know that if this were a test I’ve failed terribly.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack remains quiet, hesitant and unsure of just what to say without it being some other dumb utterance that could upset the boy again. It’s surprisingly hard to comfort someone, to be the mature support that a child needs when he himself is just as troubled. “Well, if there has to be someone who failed today, it’s me, not you. I’ve failed.” He sighs, stressed and worried the boy may still be fearful of him and his intentions. “But I can’t give up despite that.” Rizzrack looks to the child, eyes pleading, voice sincere. “Can you trust me to take you home? Believe me when I promise you to take you where you belong.”

Nortromthesilencer

He’s hesitant to trust anyone, always have been always will be. Now it’s even harder, but as the boy rises to his feet he nods. Hunger be damned, Nortrom was used to going nights without food as punishment, and he could handle it.

“I’ll accept, as I have nothing else to rely on.” Did he trust Rizzrack? No, not really. Was there any better alternative? Also no. It was one of those cases where the boy may as well go with the flow and accept things for how they are.

Looking even worse for wear now than before, albeit with less blood and more mud, the boy shivered. Night had set upon them fast, and with it the creeping shadows grew ominous. “I’ll follow your lead, s– Rizzrack.” Old habits are hard to break.

Rizzrack

There is another sigh of relief from the keen. He gets up and does his best to brush away the clumps of dirt that stuck to his bottom and legs. He gets into the machine and it starts up again, familiar deep purr drowning out the songs of nocturnal insects. Rizzrack knows they still have quite a bit more traveling to do along the river until he’s back to familiar lands. He wants to get there has fast as possible , so just like before the timbersuit guides the boy to sit on the unspinning saw like a seat and begins the trip back north again.

The Timbersuit speaks in place for Rizzrack as it steps along the river following a thin trail nearly lost to the darkness of night. Rumbles, clanks and the occasional squeak of a joint fill in for ramblings and gripes of the keen who would normally jump at the opportunity to  rant. Instead he is silent. He’s exhausted. Physically. Socially. So used to only having to worry about himself, Rizzrack is left running on empty. The thought of finally being alone is a very pleasing one.

The darkness of night settled long ago. Nothing but the stars and waxing moon light the field around them. There is more grass, full and green with scattered tree stumps across the plains and hills. Some spots of trees that were spared from being cut speckle a portion of hills that a few homes reside on. It’s all familiar even under the mysterious visage of darkness, and the keen finally mutters. “Almost there.” Words exhaled as if he  were bearing a heavy load. He eyes in the distance a familiar cabin far from any other and knows that it is only a moment longer until he walks up the path to that door once again.

Nortromthesilencer

Despite all of his efforts, Nortrom can’t help but fall asleep as they travel. The hum of the timber suit, the hunger in his gut, the pain of wrists rubbed raw from rope and other injuries, the cool evening air: It all leads to the boy curling up on his side atop the flat of the blade and slumbering.

Up the mountain the suit plodded on, the pathway well groomed and maintained for ease of travel. Bordered by tall trees and ample brush for wildlife to hide, soft sounds of crickets and nocturnal creatures occasionally break the silence of the night. Soon a familiar stone fence pushed back the foliage, leading the rest of the way up to the clearing where Nortrom’s lodge resides, nestled on the cliff overlooking a small village.

It’s still, with no sign of the owner for very obvious reasons. Only the timbersuit disturbs this place, and were it not for the child in his possession there would be no indication that anything was amiss.

Rizzrack

They made it.

Timbersuit slightly bowed, the engine rumbles to a halt and the driver climbs down tiredly, careful not to startle the boy yet from his rest. Rizzrack approaches the door. It’s dark, but patting around looking for the lock and handle causes it to budge, telling that the door was left open. Pushed wider, the keen steps in to inspect the room. He sees no obvious signs that the place has been invaded from what he can make out in the darkness. No risk of getting jumped. Good. Door propped open, Rizzrack turns to the sleeping boy.

“Okay.” He readies himself, takes in a deep breath and exhales, and as gentle as a keen a tad smaller than a ten year old can, he scoops  his arms beneath shoulders and knees and lifts him from the saw. Oh boy. Maneuvering his way in, he carries Nortrom over to the couch he last saw the man reclining against. He places him down and carefully pulls away. Whew. Such a good couch.

Rubbing the small of his back, the keen looks around. Of course there isn’t much one can see in the dark. Remembering a lantern nearby, he searches for it, finding it close to the door along with some matches.

Now with a portable light, he closes the door and turns his attention to the kitchen for some food. Having calmed his nerves during the travel, he  finds himself quite famished. He can imagine Nortrom will be as well as soon as he awakes.

Nortromthesilencer

The boy stirs once on the couch, the awkward angle of being carried by a small Keen more than enough to awaken him. He yawns, groggy, and stretches with a groan.

Nothing is out of place on the main floor, even if the boy looking around doesn’t know it. Tidy as can be, the main room and kitchen looked barely lived in, but completely free of dust and cobwebs. Nortrom gets up and stretches again, turning to Rizzrack with half lidded, sleepy eyes, “Is this your home?”

His eyes trace ever wall and angle. There is something oddly familiar about this place…

Rizzrack

Rizzrack rummages around through drawers and cabinets, tracking flecks of dirt across the floor. It can be comparable to a maze for the keen, coming across assorted kitchen ware instead of anything edible. Finally understanding the organization of things, he’s managed to gather a bowl with an assortment of fruit, seeds and strips of jerky.

The voice slightly startles him, and he panics at the question. “It’s y-… No, not exactly. But-” The keen hopes that being honest is the right thing. He walks over, lantern in one hand, bowl in the other. “I don’t think there would be any objections to me making myself home. As long as I keep the place tidy.” So much for keeping the floor clean. Rizzrack hands the bowl over to Nortrom before picking out a strip of meat for himself. He glances about chewing, and it’s then he realizes… He’s gotta go. Despite being so thirsty, he drank enough water to make it through him.

“Eat as much as you want. I’ve gotta take care of business really quick. I’ll be back, don’t worry.” Placing the lantern down so that Nortrom wouldn’t be left in the dark, Rizzrack steps outside to find a suitable spot to relieve himself in.

Nortromthesilencer

Food! Sweet, glorious, nourishing food! Nortrom is more than happy to begin to eat, his resolve of ignoring hunger gone the moment he smells the dried meats and other goodies. Manners are out the window, and the boy stuffs a large apple in his mouth and bites down greedily. He nods at Rizzrack, still remembering to not talk with his mouth full at least.

The small apple was no match for Nortrom’s mighty jaws. Taking a handful of seeds and a strip of meat, he looks curiously at the home. If this wasn’t Rizzrack’s home, than who was the owner and why were they gone? Nortrom stood up and explored the main floor: closets, bathing room, kitchen, and all. He noted stairs going up, and a large hatch in the hall, much too large for him to open alone, and decided the stairs were the best route for more adventure.

Lantern in hand, the boy ascended the wooden steps. The first room was tiny, and looked out of place with the rest of the tidy home. Loose sheets and books were strewn about, pillows thrown into a corner, papers with crude drawings messily tossed about. Whoever stayed in this room didn’t care much for organization. Moving on, another storage closet, and finally what looked to be the master bedroom. It’s was massive, the large four post bed near the entrance, wooden dressers and shelves lining the walls, a few desks, and… What was that? Against the wall there was a strange twine wrapped sculpture with a few open cut boxes and platforms placed at seemingly random points. It was damaged, the twine ripped and torn on the base of the main stand. What an odd looking thing.

In the dark the boy didn’t notice that not all was in place and neat, and he nearly fell over tripping on a loose black cloth that hung out of a flat case lying open on the ground. Kneeling to get a better look, it was then Nortrom noticed his lantern reflecting off something else partially obscured by this black cover.

A mirror. THE mirror.

He jumped back in shock, the strange words and jumbles of information Rizzrack had spoken off echoing in his head. How could he know this place if he had never been here? Something strange was going on, surely. Nortrom rushed back downstairs, leaving the open case and mirror where he found them, and called out looking for Rizzrack.

“Rizzrack, Rizzrack! I found the mirror- or I think I did! It’s just like I recall, come quick!” The panicked wonder and excitement was marred by an underlying fear in his voice.

Rizzrack

Head hanging back, eyes closed, Rizzrack looks to have almost fallen asleep standing, having already finished moments earlier. Swaying on the spot, it takes someone calling his name to snap him back to alertness.

“O-oh! Alright I’m on my way!”

Seconds later he’s run to the door and steps through, still slipping his gloves back on. “I’m here,  I’m here. Where is it?” Curiosity peaks. When the mirror was first mentioned, Rizzrack didn’t think of it as a possible cause to Nortrom’s current state. He actually didn’t think such a thing existed, just something the boy thought up of as he tried so hard to recollect memories. But now? Maybe he can see just what happened, or how it happened, why… and if it could happen  again.

“Show me, b-but let’s not touch it or anything yet, okay?”

Nortromthesilencer

He nodded, still overcome with excitement as he led the keen upstairs and into the master bedroom. There, on the floor where he left it, was a wooden box with runes carved along it’s edges, lid flipped open. Out of it a black satin like sheet led, curled over the edge and on to the wooden planks where it loosely wrapped around half of an ornate, silver framed, oval, mirror.

“This is what I saw– er– remember, sir. The wooden walls, the black sheet, the silver mirror; Everything!”

Nortrom set the lantern down on  the ground, angling it to illuminate the room better as he looked around for some other source of light they could use. There was a torch scone by the balcony door, and the boy grabbed it and brought it over. “Here, this may help.” Rizzrack told him not to touch the mirror, and so the boy waited and watched instead.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack follows Nortrom up the stairs, finding the very act of climbing steps through a home to be… Nostalgic in a sense. Cautiously the keen follows Nortrom in, looking about at the belongings and studies before finally looking at what the boy is excited to show him. “So, this must be… Hmm.” Rizzrack grabs the torch and lights it. Holding it firmly in both hands he stares at Nortrom and waits for him to do something.

Oh, I’m the adult here. Well then.

“Uh…” Unsure and hesitant he looks to the mirror facing up. What if it pulls some other funny stuff? Step by step, inching closer, he gradually peers over at the mirror being sure to not let his reflection be seen by himself. “Do you remember saying any spells or incantations? Or touching it?” With a single finger he begins to inch the fabric off the mirror to show off more of its frame. Nothing quite happens yet, so to test the waters he waves a hand quickly over the top of it.

Nortromthesilencer

“I, hm…” The boy thought, the mirror reflected. Nothing happened as the mirror was revealed, safe for a greater reflection of light and flame off it’s now exposed surface. The hand shows as one would expect, and for all intents and purposes it’s just a mirror.

“I was holding it, looking at it but it wasn’t me. I mean, the reflection wasn’t right but I could be remembering wrong because that doesn’t make any sense.” Nortrom huffs to himself, realizing how silly it all sounded. Kneeling on the ground, he grows impatient and pulls the cloth all the way off, folding it neatly into the box but still not touching the mirror itself, “It’s just a mirror. I don’t see anything special about it.”

Rizzrack

“Well that’s the thing with weird magic stuff. They look like your typical book, you open it and then suddenly there’s five golems chasing you.” Still slightly suspicious of the mirror, he quickly taps it with the leather covered tip of his finger. Nothing still.

He slowly picks it up in one hand and begins rotating it around to inspect it, maybe even find something like instructions. This mirror has GOT to have been responsible for this. He even looked for cracks, recalling the mishap that hexing staff had caused. Then again, maybe the boy IS right. It hasn’t done anything to make him believe it’s magical. Rizzrack hums a note of disappointment and believes now that it is in fact just some ordinary mirror. He holds it over to Nortrom and decides that perhaps maybe there is something in the box.

Nortromthesilencer

Hesitant to take the mirror, Nortrom gives Rizzrack a concerned frown, looking for approval. The keen passing it over is good enough, and he takes the mirror in both hands just like he remembered. The edges are etched with ornate detail and flourishes, making this mirror look like something a Lord might have in his manor, but still there’s no sign of anything strange.

The boy watches Rizzrack explore the case, but finally works up the nerve to look directly at himself in the mirror. The light may be low but he can still make out his features, the black hair, the injuries, the blue eyes, the… wait. Something wrong. Nortrom can’t bring himself to look away no matter how hard he tries, and is unable to say a word or motion that this is the case. He’s stuck, transfixed staring at this mirror, trapped in his own body and knowing that this is the case. The boy’s mind spins, panicking, trying to use every thing he can to pull away and instead he just kneels there, calm, looking.

The reflection ripples ever so slightly. With each blurring motion it shifts, the boy’s face changing bit by bit. His features harden, lines becoming more defined, older. His eyes brighten with a soft glow, deep set and tired. His hair grows longer, his jaw more square. The boy is terrified now, his body shaking from fear. Once the image has completely changed to what he perceives as a completely different person (Or was it really?) he pulls back with a gasp.

Panting for air, Nortrom is quick to place the mirror down and back away. The image on the mirror hasn’t moved with him, acting more like a picture frame than a reflective surface. Still panting, he points in exasperation to this oddity taking place, hoping Rizzrack pays attention.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack is completely unaware of what goes on behind him. The silly keen is much too occupied pecking around the fabric and wood of the box. No etchings, no scrolls, no writings in blood. He sighs, feeling they were no closer to solving this mystery. He scratches the back of his neck while pondering about the next step to take when sounds of shuffling catch his attention. It sounded quick and abrupt so he turns and sees a very bewildered boy pointing down to the mirror. He assumes the boy dropped the mirror and is panicking, fearing he may have broken it.

“Nortrom, it’s okay it’s okay! It’s just a silly mirr-YEIP!” Hand reaching to pick up the object quickly recoils back. Nortrom’s older visage burned into the reflection completely catches Rizzrack off guard.

“D-Do you see that too?!” He points to it, looking like a pink midget parody of the boy. “The mirror IS responsible!”

Nortromthesilencer

“I– Who is that? What is that?” Eyes darting between Rizzrack and the mirror, Nortrom gets to his feet and scratches his hair, dumbfounded. “Why would that have to do with all of this? I’ve never been here bef–” His word cuts with a violent jerk, the boy choking back a harsh breath. His hands flex, confusion drawing into a pained grimace and another lurching jolt. Nortrom’s hands gripped at his clothing, looking for something to hold on to as the pain intensified.

“It hurts! What, what is going on?!?” The child’s knees buckled and he fell forward, form crunching low and arms moving over his head. It hurt, oh god did it hurt. He felt like his body was being torn in two, mind being ripped from his head and flung around the room, innards twisting and turning in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Forcing himself out of his confined ball, he looked up at Rizzrack in agony, tears rolling down his face, “Rizzrack! Help, it hurts!”

Another jolt of pain extorts a yelp and the boy falls forward, head pressed to the ground on his knees, rocking back and forth as he cried out for the torment to stop.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack stammers, trying to figure out how to safely explain to the boy he’s looking at the older version of himself. Before he can even form a coherent word, the boy’s cries of pain alert him to panic. What’s happening? He’s just as confused as Nortrom is.

He quickly crawls over to the boy, trying to look under him, trying to see if something were harming him. But there seems to be no outer source causing. Instead, something within, and Rizzrack feels completely powerless to stop it. Here he is, this poor child who has already gone through more pain than anyone should in a day let alone their life, crying out for help to a keen who can’t do anything at all.

“I-I want to but I can’t I-” his own hands grip the brim of his helm in helpless horror. No, there must be something, there MUST be something! Pained pleas, tears of suffering, desperate begging… It quickly overwhelms Rizzrack. He embraces the boy in one last attempt to stop the pain, and that’s when he eyes the mirror. That damned thing, the cause of all this pain! He hated it. Absolutely hated it. And anything Rizzrack hated, he destroyed no matter what.

Lunging for the mirror, he grips it with both hands, fingers pressed so tight the frame of it crackled. Then with arms over head, mirror raised high, he brings it down and smashes it back down into the box from whence it came.

“FUCK you!”

A slam of the lid follows suit, and the trembling keen turns back towards the child. Well… Rizzrack expected to turn back and see a child

Nortromthesilencer

The shattering shower of glass brought with it a flickering light, each shard a spotlight that condensed where the child was blinded him from the outside world. Blinded by light, blinded by pain, blinded by how own hands over his eyes as he screamed, the massive arcane force that erupted from that spot blew papers and sheets from their rest, snuffed the lights, and knocked the child flat on his back.

Well, sort of.

By the time he hit the ground, it was no child. The contorting pain materialized from the light, dissolving over his body and in an instant reforming into a much larger frame. It only took seconds for everything to settle down as though nothing had happened, save the mess of papers and now grown man splayed out on the ground in casual attire. As for the rest of the room, it was dark as once before.

Nortrom groaned, lips curled in a sneer. His head was pounding, akin to the one time he found himself hung over and swore never to do that again. Keeping his eyes shut he rubbed his hands down his face a few times, skin stretching, massaging, in hopes it would help relieve some of his grogginess. Slowly he opened his eyes, the pale blue glow easily seen in the dark of the night. Night? Just how long had he been out? Last time Nortrom remembered it was early morning…

Rizzrack

Rizzrack was quiet, silent, listening to the familiar grunts of a grumpy man. The glow of eyes is unsettling. Rizzrack knows very well that, despite darkness masking all, there is no longer a child there. Still coping with the overload of emotions moments earlier, he remains still with held breath. After what nearly felt like a minute, he slowly takes in a deep breath and makes his presence known with a cautious whisper.

“Nortrom?

Nortromthesilencer

The voice from the silence made Nortrom jump to a sitting position, only to immediately regret getting up so fast and bend forward, holding himself up by a hand as he waited for the dizzy spell to pass. He sighed, shaking his head, an odd after feeling lingering, heavy, hazy, and definitely not comfortable.

“Rizzrack? What the hell are you doing here?” Slowly looking towards the balcony window, the Silencer grunted in annoyance, “What time is it? Actually, better yet, what day?” He had to know how long it had been.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack flinches, still programed to react to Nortrom’s pain with concern. He grows aware that Nortrom may not remember anything at all, and the thought of trying to explain anything without sounding crazy (hah) seems like a waste of time. Despite those thoughts, Rizzrack digs around for the matches he grabbed earlier. Finding the lantern where he last saw it, he lights it and finds the man sitting and quite frankly, still looking terrible.

“Uh, it’s… About three in the morning. A Tuesday morning.”

All a complete guess, well, the time is a guess. The day of the week is based on Rizzrack’s own calendar as he hasn’t seen an official one in years. He could be right. He could be wrong. Who knows? What he does know Nortrom is not going to be happy to see him, his room in a mess and… Oh, the mirror. Rizzrack hopes that wasn’t important.

“Does anything hurt?” He’s still concerned. Every second looking at the Silencer that passes, his heart sinks more and more, but despite it all, he is happy to know that Nortrom isn’t hurting anymore.

It feels so strange.

Nortromthesilencer

“Three in the…? Ah fuck…” The whole day was gone. Great. That’s exactly what he didn’t need to hear, but had to accept it all the same.

Nortrom squinted as the light was shone, piercing in the darkness uncomfortably. He got to his feet, a bit wobbly at first, and reached up to the hanging brazier from the ceiling beams above. The spring flint tied to it’s frame served it’s roll well, allowing the man to light the coals and illuminate the room fully.

“Hurt? How about everything? I swear, that’s the last time I believe the reports when they say that something is inert…” He grumbles to himself, bitter about this whole situation. Artifact retrieval? Sure, a common task and something he’s done many times. Most, however, were correct in their handling procedures and expectant of the way his powers behaved oddly around magic. This time, not so much. Stretching his shoulders, Nortrom vowed to punch whoever wrote that damned report.

“I feel like my head’s being accosted by a small siege engine. Ugh. Rizzrack, you haven’t seen a silver framed mirror around here, have you?”

He looked around, the arcane binding case still by his feet, closed roughly with the protective drapery stuck out of the edges, and wondered if he actually managed to seal the damned thing before blacking out. Squatting down, Nortrom started to notice something else, the small flecks of glass hinting at something more. A sudden look of worry marred his features, and he bolted to open the case.

Shards. Lots and lots of shards and a bent silver frame. The colour drained from his face. “… I am in so much trouble…”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack said nothing when asked about the mirror. He watched Nortrom walk over to the box, his heart speeding up with every step. He was glad he could walk again without casts but at the same time… The look on Nortrom’s face was nearly enough to get Rizzrack to jump over the balcony and run. He won’t say what happened, but his looks we’re a dead give away to anyone that he knew what happened. After all, the keen looked guiltier than a dog covered in pillow feathers. He set the lantern down in a safe spot upon a desk. Just in case.

“It was… I’m sure it was already broken to begin with. Heh… Anywhoo, um, it’s… Good to see you’re alive and well at least. With great use of your legs again. So I’m just gonna go…. Okay?” He squeaks as he begins to step his way to the bedroom door.

Nortromthesilencer

His head darted from the mirror to the keen, expression piercing, worried, ready to stop Rizzrack if he attempted to run, “Wait. You still haven’t explained why the hell you’re in my house.” Something was up. He knew it.

Throwing his hands up and running them roughly through his hair with a very loud groan, Nortrom knew he was going to hear hell from this. He kicked the case in frustration, mumbling to himself ways he could explain this. “No, no… No matter how I spin this I’m in deep shit…” He was supposed to bring back an inert, thought lost, artifact, retrieved from the depth of an abandoned ruin. Instead, he shattered it before transit.

His hands gripped as his hair, tugging a bit, frustrated. “Rizzrack, what the hell happened here?”

Rizzrack

Remember, you can run! He’s upset, he’s not gonna listen, and you’ll permanently get on his bad side.

Rizzrack is nearly at the door but he can’t find that last push to get out.

You broke the man’s legs before, if he gave you a chance after that, then surely he will after you explain everything and this broken mirror.

“Okay okay! I’ll explain everything! But it’s a long story and you’ve got to hear me out on this.”

He tells Nortrom of how he found a young boy out in the middle of nowhere being attacked by bandits. He tells Nortrom of how he saved the boy, how they travelled to a town to get fuel so he could take the child home, how the child got recaptured, how they escaped….

“So we get to the river, there’s a bit of a misunderstanding between us, hence, heh why I’m all muddy. Anyways long story short I apologized, the little boy apologized, we had a nice quiet trip back to home–your home, then he found the mirror. Then that… That damned thing…” He snarls. “He touched it and that thing was hurting him and I, I didn’t know how to stop it except by smashing it. So I did it, I smashed it. Alright?” He sighs, no longer looking ready to run, but instead intent on setting everything straight and approaches Nortrom closer, ready to tell him the rest. “But…” Suddenly his throat tightens on him and he chokes on his words.

Oh God no.

His hands go up to his face, covering his mouth but failing to cover the tears that begin to well in his eyes. “That poor boy is gone now, and now you’re here. B-but so many terrible things happened… to him…to you…that poor child was you.” Rizzrack can barely hold himself together as he looks up to Nortrom, barely sputtering out his words between choking sobs. The little keen is so distraught. “Why DID they hurt you? You didn’t deserve ANY of that!” The last few seconds he spent with the boy is burned in his mind. His pleading cries, his pain. His eyes connect with that glowing blue gaze, and he fears that somewhere in there, he is still hurting greatly.

And there is nothing Rizzrack can do to help.

The day’s events have obviously taken their toll on the small-keen. He begins to pace about, sobbing and muttering fragments of sentences. Poor child, poor Nortrom. He recalls a particular moment after he discovered the identity of the child, and Rizzrack can only curse the name of Aeol Drias repeatedly.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom listened intently, becoming more confused as the story went on. How peculiar! So the mirror had some sort of chronology altering affect on him, changing his form and pulling from his past memories to recreate what he once was. Nortrom hummed in curiosity, brows furrowed as he thought.

Hearing Rizzrack’s fervored passion for the trials and tribulations that his child self faced, the Silencer sighed and tilted his head sympathetically, “Rizzrack, it sounds like you’ve been through a lot today. I admit, I’m still not completely sure what happened, but I do know you need some rest. If you want you can sleep here, I’ll get a quilt and some pillows from the closet, and the couch should be more than big enough.” Truth was that Nortrom too was exhausted and needed time to think this all over, and knew he would have more questions for the keen in the morning.

“I think we both need some rest. I’ll deal with the mirror tomorrow.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack could not speak a reply. Face in elbows to hide his tears, the small-keen could only nod in agreement that yes, he would like to rest. The desire for comfort exceeds his wants for the safety of his suit. There is a little quivering peep of “thanks” before Rizzrack turns to leave, making a straight bee-line for the couch. He won’t delay himself from sleep any longer.

Hands first, knees follow. He crawls onto the couch. Face into the crevice between backrest and armrest, the rest of himself curls up into a little ball, quite similar to how he could sleep within his suit. The only article of wear removed from his body is his bucket helmet, which sits just below his feet also on the couch. Crusted boots, stale gloves, Nortrom’s couch won’t be making it out of this encounter spotless. Already content to be laying down and finally hiding from it all, he closes his eyes.

The shudderings and sniffles gradually leave to leave only the slow and steady sounds of rhythmic respiration.

Nortromthesilencer

Glad that his offer was accepted (as it would mean not having to hunt the Keen down at a later date), Nortrom followed his downstairs and grabbed a thick blanket from the linen closet as well as a spare down pillow. He set the pillow beside the curled up Rizzrack so that he could grab it as he pleased, and unfurled the blanket over top the poor Keen. He looked pathetic, curled up, crying, and now tucked away in his little blanket cocoon. The tired Silencer wished to follow suit, and head back upstairs to get the torches doused.

Torch snuffed, Keen put to bed, it was time to zonk out. Flopping down on the bed with little care for clothing, Nortrom was lost in slumber mere seconds later. For once his sleep was uneventful, no dreams to recall, only the dead silence of night. He awoke early, as usual, and checked on the mirror now that the sun was starting to rise and illuminate the room.

It was unsalvageable. Nortrom expected as much, but had to be sure. Careful to not miss any shards, he tucked them into the black satin cloth and set it all gently in the case. Not making a sound he tip toed downstairs with the broken bundle. Rizzrack was curled up, still snoozing away, with Stig contently loafing in the morning sun that grazed one of the many windowsills. Assuming he had time before the keen awoke, Nortrom decided to quickly use the teleport route to Aeol Drias and get the whole mirror fiasco over with as soon as possible.

***

The sun was overhead, time well past noon. Nortrom groaned as he shut the door, careful not to bend his shoulders too far or touch his back to anything as he walked. Even with the fresh bandaging wrapped about his upper torso, the brushing of his loose shirt stung the freshly torn nerves. As expected, the Factol’s were pissed. This was a mistake he made in handling an artifact, something irreplaceable and deemed important to the order, and it was only fair that he be punished as such.

Walking with an awkward gait from the lashing injuries across his back, still fresh, still lightly soaking the bandages in a soft red, Nortrom grabbed the pitcher of water on the kitchen counter and poured himself something to drink. By this point the man had forgotten he had let Rizzrack stay the night, and instead focused more on thoughts of what he could have done better to prevent this all from happening. There were no doubts in Nortrom’s mind that this was his fault ultimately.

Rizzrack

He awoke. For what may have been the tenth time. He can’t remember what keeps waking him. Maybe he’s just not used to sleeping this way. Once again he turned to his opposite side, facing outside the couch and pulls the quilt over his head. He had to keep reminding himself of where he was, where his suit was, and of course to not panic. Everything will be fine.

The door opens. A stranger? A visitor? It’s Nortrom. He figures he must have not heard him left in the first place. Where did he go to? Rizzrack peers beneath the covers, watching him make his way into the kitchen. Why is he walking like that? Why is he making that face? Is he upset? It would be understandable. Rizzrack mimics the expression, trying to understand this new situation. Should he stay quiet? He waits for Nortrom to turn the other way and takes this opportunity to sit up, tossing aside the quilt and finding his helmet (now on the floor) he places it back upon his head. He eyes the door, looks back to the man, then steps down from the couch and makes his way over towards him.

“Nortrom?” Rizzrack approaches the corner of the counter and rests his fingers and chin upon it, keeping the rest of himself hidden. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.” He backs his face away from the counter, but hands remain upon it. “Look I… sorry again about the mirror. If there’s any way I can make that up to you…”

He spies something on the back of Nortrom’s shirt. Something that could be easily glanced over. A small, reddish spot. The keen’s brows crease with worry as the sight raises within his mind certain thoughts. “… Are you okay?”

Nortromthesilencer

He flinched at the voice, remembering second later that yes he allowed Rizzrack to sleep there the night. Nortorm huffed a small, entertained, chuckle at his reaction before continuing on grabbing a plate and stove rack from the cupboards. “Good morning, or should I say afternoon?” He shrugs, wincing and immediately regretting the action.

Figuring it would be best to be polite, he poured a second glass of water for the keen and set it before him, then took a large swig of his own. God he needed that. “I’m fine. And I already spoke with my superiors about the mirror. It’s been dealt with.”

Nortrom went to the small stove and lit the flame, placing the rack topper above and waiting for it to heat. He turned to Rizzrack, trying his best to act casual, “Hungry?” Sure it wouldn’t be anything special, but right now Nortrom craved something substantial, and he knew he had a thick cut of venison in cold storage that would fit his needs very well.

Starting to walk down the hall to gather what he needed, the man stopped, “Rizzrack, I– Hm. If you don’t mind, I would like to discuss the other day. I have questions.”

Rizzrack

His worry never leaves him despite Nortrom’s cheery greeting (which Rizzrack finds uncharacteristic of him). He takes the cup and sips it, nose bumping the opposite side of the rim. It’s a typical experience when drinking from something other than a bottle. He says nothing and once again just settles to accept that what is done is done, and the mirror will now only be a thing of the past.

At being asked if he was hungry, his mouth immediately  waters and he perks up. “Yes. Yes yes I am very hungry. heh.” He’s distracted momentarily from his worries, now peering over at Nortom and curious to see what he may possibly be looking for to make.

“O-oh, sure.” Oh boy, question time. These sort of things could go either way, but Rizzrack can’t find any reason for this discussion to go negatively. After all, it’s not only his hunger he hopes to satiate. His curiosity had desires as well, and he hopes to learn of some more things to answer his questions. Taking that as a cue, Rizzrack places the cup back down upon the counter and walks after Nortrom.

“So! Interrogation time…” he claps his hands together, the gloves making a muffled and dusty slap. “Ask anything you want, just don’t go Good Guard Bad Guard on me, hehheh.”

Nortrom’s odd gait does not escape his notice.

Nortromthesilencer

“Heh, right. It’s more the fact that I can’t remember any of the events you spoke of yesterday,” Kicking aside the rug at the end of the hallway, Nortrom reveals a large wooden hatch with an iron ring fit into the floor. He pulls it open, both the hatch and him making pained sounds, and descends the steps. Even with how dark it was in the storage, the Silencer didn’t bother to light the torch scone as he knew exactly where he left the meat hanging, a large leg of venison, and also a crate that was mostly empty of vegetables. He threw the leg on top of the crate and took the whole thing in one lift, again wincing in pain as he did so, and walked back up the stone steps.

“You said I was child? How did you know it was me in the first place? Did I have any recollection of my current life, or was I fully regressed back?” It was awkward walking with such a large bundle in arm, but he managed to make it to the kitchen and plop the whole thing down on the counter. A cutting board and large knife were also set aside, and soon he was butchering the meat. (May I not that Nortrom didn’t know a damned thing about proper butchering and only cut based on his hunting experience from years of living alone. He was sure any professional chef would smack him upside the head for improper technique and ruining such fresh cuts of meat with his awkward angles and poor separation.)

“Though, all in all, you did get me back here. What the hell is with things recently and you being stuck dragging me back home?” He forced an awkward laugh, still hacking away at the deer leg.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack nods and waits at the top of the entrance, peering down into the darkness. He’s fine not following all the way through.

“Yes. I didn’t know it was you at first. You were polite, well-mannered, I can say I was impressed! I can’t say I agree with all of that resulting in you being timid and fearful. You had mentioned the Hazhadal Barrens and then I noticed you look like a, well, young version of you. It just added up.” He rambles on as the Silencer returns and heads back to the kitchen. The small-keen continues to trail after him. “I could actually be fooled into believing I somehow ended up in the past. You had no idea about your future self. Heh, in fact, when I tried to tell you, it was too much and you freaked out on me.” Rizzrack shrugs. “I can’t really blame you for that reaction. You had a terrible day getting kidnapped and beaten up…” Rizzrack wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to go further into detail with that event. Even just thinking about it brought about feelings of anger. He’s practically seeing red.

Wait a second.

Instead of joining Nortrom in a bout of awkward chuckles, Rizzrack is silent. He takes off his glove carefully. He stares at the man’s back while he cuts away. There are specks of red on the fabric that congregates just below his shoulders. He reaches up as high as he can and lightly  presses his hand to Nortrom’s back. Please don’t be blood.

Nortromthesilencer

Still listening but not saying anything as he concentrated on not cutting himself, Nortrom nodded. A few nice steaks later, the man is about to turn around when he suddenly feels pressure against the recently torn skin of his back and yelps, jumping with a hiss from both being startled and in pain. Whipping around to look at what had just happened, he spies the small keen and exhales with a dramatic huff, “What the hell are you doing?!?” The anger subsides into a slumped sigh, and huffilly the man grabs two large steaks and takes them to the stove top. “I said I’m fine. It will heal, and I’ll change the bandages out in a bit.”

He didn’t enjoy the intrusion, or the method Rizzrack used to confirm his suspicions. going back and forth to throw random vegetables on the stove top grill as well, the man growls. “Fine, look, I’ll level with you here: This is twice now you’ve been privy to information about me and my past that I don’t exactly share with others,” He hovered a hand over the grill to check the temperatures then went back to set out some plates, “I’m none too pleased with that fact.”

Nortrom pushed the crate to the end of the counter, wiping down where it was with a cloth. Resting his elbows on the table in a leaning position, chin on his hands, the man sighed again. His eyes trailed from the stove to Rizzrack, efforts to hide his anxiety and what went on while Rizzrack was sleeping, gone.

“My superiors were not pleased that the mirror was broken. It was only natural that I be disciplined for such a failure. My mission was the bring back the artifact in tact. I did not. It’s nothing to worry about and dealt with.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack stepped back, honestly having expected to be punted after it became apparent there was quite an injury under there. “I suspected you’re hiding something! I want to know what happened. Who hurt you?” His tone was firm and demanding and unwavering. He felt completely entitled to know.

The keen repositions himself, moving to the opposite side of Nortrom now, attempting to get face to face with him and still demanding to know.

Stern expression becomes concerned. “Just because of that? But it wasn’t your fault! You told them I broke it, right? Then they should have been understanding!” He huffs and clenches his hands into fists at his sides. “This isn’t dealt with at all. In fact I should be dealing with it! I should go there and give them a piece of my mind, that’s what I should do.” He grumbles, unaware of how ridiculous he sounds.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t be absurd.” He pulled the meat from the rack, cutting it open to check. It was bloody and pink in the middle, just how he liked it. Not knowing if Rizzrack liked his steaks this rare or not, he plated them anyways.

“It’s completely my fault, and foolish to think I don’t deserve some form of disciplinary action for failing at my duties. I mishandled the artifact, leading to it’s activation. There is no one to blame here by myself.”

Nortorm grabbed each plate and went to the table, placing them down. A large venison steak with roasted vegis awaited the pair.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack finds it fruitless getting anywhere with Nortrom on this subject and settles with dropping it. What a shame. He opens his mouth to begin another conversation, but he becomes distracted watching Nortrom carry two plates to the table with the most delicious looking cuts of meat he’s seen in ages.

Hungry.

SO HUNGRY.

He walks over to one of the plates set down and looks to Nortrom as if to confirm that one was for him. Yes. Gloves are set on the table and he grasps the portion of meat with his hands and quite greedily begins to tear into it. He’s not even sitting. No time to sit, only time to eat. He gets more ravenous, forgetting whatever manners he may have as he bites off as much as he can without choking.

“Mmffmf hnk yu. mmfff.” He finishes his mouthful. “I haven’t had anything this good in who knows how long!” Easy to say when one lives off insects, fish and the occasional fowl. Another bite of meat is taken, and the veggies are continued to be left ignored.

Nortromthesilencer

While the man raises a brow at Rizzrack’s ravenous display, he isn’t put off by it and instead cuts himself a few large pieces and also enjoys finally eating something of substance.

“Good? I heated meat. Most people would call my cooking abysmal, so I admit I’m now curious as to what the hell you normally eat.” It couldn’t be much if this randomly charred pile of roots and meat counted as ‘good’ by any standard but his own.

Feeling it best not to disturb the keen as he eats, Nortrom is content in silently devouring his own plate and glass of water. Time passes with neither saying a word, the only sound is of them chewing and tearing away. After feeling full and taking the final mouthful of water from his glass, Nortrom sets it down with a loud and content sigh before looking once more at the keen, more seriously this time.

“I’m hoping you won’t go and speak of certain things to others that you may have seen or heard of about me, Rizzrack. Given the fact you’ve been painted a very jaded and incomplete picture, I’ll answer your questions, but it’s not because I feel any sort of kinship here. It’s because I don’t want you getting the wrong impression about things.”

Rizzrack

The meat soon vanished into the small-keen. Rizzrack picks around at the left over veggies on his plate, inspecting them. Deeming only SOME of them to be suitable for consumption, he decides to eat just one. If only to not be rude. He’s quite full now.

Chewing the last mouthful, he rests his elbows upon the table and clasps his fingers together to give his chin something softer than wood to rest on. “Do you think I’m that kind of person?” He pauses, remembering not too long ago he made it almost a routine to put up signs around the local town that slandered the Silencer. “I mean, whatever sort of things I did say were obviously not true.” He takes a few seconds to slip his gloves back on before returning back to his previous pose. “How was I supposed to know this… Fold… was responsible for such terrible acts?” His brows rise as he remembers. “By the way, did you get that locket to its intended recipient?” One hand moves to prop his cheek. “I hope so. I… I really thought you were just looting the bodies. I know now though, and I think I can say I don’t like The Fold either.”

Nortromthesilencer

Fingers tapping on the edge of the table, Nortrom frowns. “I doubt you share what transpired at Augury Bay with any real detail with most, as it wasn’t a pleasant time for you. I will say most of my life fits that theme, and would still appreciate it kept to yourself.” The man reclined in his seat, folding his arms behind his head. Pressure being put on his back, he flinched, leaning back forward almost immediately. That was a bad move that also alerted him to the fact that bandages would have to be swapped soon, as his shirt was getting ruined.

“Mmhm. Unfortunately when he pried the locket open, the picture inside was destroyed, but the sentiment of the piece remained. What ill fated timing for her to visit during– well. It’s too late to ruminate on that. What happened, happened. As for the Fold, do not think me innocent either. My role is a soldier and sort of inquisitor: I fight. I kill. I interrogate. I torture. Though, I can at least say I have not slaughtered a village merely for being neutral in the conflict,” He chuckled, as despite the dark occurrence there was a morbid humour in it to the Silencer that he doubted Rizzrack would share, “I was bred, in all technicalities, to commit genocide.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack gives a questioning nod of agreement. He did at first, way back when he sought help and comfort. Bits and pieces of events dressed with tears as he struggled to share his horrors. Of course, the first few merely attempted to correct his accounts into a different narrative. Outside of his own kind, others merely pitied him, seeing him as a confused and traumatized victim of war like many others. Over time his attempts at telling the whole story grew shorter and shorter, until eventually it only became a single sentence summary he’d blurt out before proceeding with a cutting spree. He nods firmly now. The small-keen deems himself a better audience than those he hoped would listen to himself. Nortrom should count himself lucky.

A disappointed sigh, but the locket will be treasured regardless he supposes. Rizzrack continues to  listen, his brows furrow and he shifts on the spot uncomfortably as Nortrom lists off his duties. It’s not something he agrees with, but because of recent events, a new light is shed on conflict and war to the keen that he was unfamiliar with. It’s not exactly black and white, but at least Rizzrack knows he prefers the lesser of two evils. It’s Nortrom’s last statement that gets the keen to finally speak up.

“You’re telling me your purpose is to kill? Nortrom, the Timbersuit is made to kill. You can see it in the design. Are you telling me you were born with a glaive and shield in your hands?”

Nortromthesilencer

The comparison makes the Silencer laugh, albeit lightly. He shakes his head, “Yes and no… It was ordained well before I was born what my duty would be; Two-hundred years before hand actually. I was crafted, made over seven generations of selective breeding according to a prophesied pedigree to be the ‘worlds greatest battle mage’,” He scoffs as he speaks the title, finding his this whole breeding thing to be ridiculous, “A creation to smite the Fold. From birth I was trained to this task. Alas, it was not a mage they got, but a child without a drop of magic. You can imagine how upset that made many.” With a sigh Nortrom shakes his head and lets it droop over-dramatically.

Lifting himself back the man stood, clearing the plates as he still spoke,  “You, on the other hand, are a clean slate. While your past may have taken much from you, your future is unsure as you have yet to create it. Any place, any journey, any task: Fate is yours to command.  But I? Just as your timber suit is a tool for your destruction, as I am theirs. My life has been decided for me, and because I owe my order everything: They created me, raised me, educated me, fed me, clothed me, and gave me purpose; I am forever in their debt.”

A dipped in sink like wash basin lies set into the back counter, and Nortrom places the dishes within and grabs a nearby cloth, washing them down. He sighs, the cold water raising goose-bumps on his arms while the rippling, sloshing, feel of the suds calm his nerves from speaking about all of this.

“So yes, in a way I was born with a glaive in my hands and blood on my boots.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack listens, recalling at the river how the young Nortrom took it much more negatively than expected when the keen laughed at the thought of him casting a spell. Imagine, being held to such high expectations and being essentially turning out to be a dud to everyone? “Well they shouldn’t have taken their disappointment out on you. Still, looks like you showed them, hm? I bet you left them…. speechless!” The small-keen laughs at his own shitty joke before quieting back down. Rizzrack doesn’t know very much of the arcane world, but he does know Silencer’s ability is a bit uncanny. They must’ve felt like complete fools for punishing the poor boy.

He moves from his leaning spot over to the chair Nortrom left and decides to keep the seat in use, preferring to stay near the man but not in his way as he washed. “Nortrom, have you ever thought that maybe… I dunno..” He rests his arm horizontally on the table and props his head with his hand. “I’m guessing that to you, they’re the closest thing you’d call family, right? Parents do all those things, but do they expect you to pay them back? No! They want you to grow and follow your own dreams! My family made harvesters, I wanted to make toys. Did they stop me? Maybe my uncle b-but that’s not the point. The point is, you don’t owe them anything. You just think you need them.” Rizzrack crosses his arms and nods, feeling confident with his points. “As a matter of fact, I think it’s quite the opposite. They need you!”

Rizzrack begins to get a little too excited, having transitioned from sitting to standing on his little improvised soap-box. “Demand better treatment! Better pay! Compensation for the pain they’ve put you through! Or else you’ll leave them, THEN they’ll be sorry!”

Nortromthesilencer

“Your passion is admirable, but no, a parent has a child to build a family. I was ‘crafted’ not birthed, the intent was never to be more than a tool of war. Besides, it’s not as bad as that all sounds, I actually enjoy many part of my job.”

One final pass to dry the dishes, and Nortrom leans against the counter facing Rizzrack, “And I do get paid well. You see this? How I live?” He extends an arm, paying notice to how barren and plain his home was, “I choose to live this way because I enjoy the simplicity. Financially, I’m quite well off, even if my home doesn’t display luxury.” It was true; Nortrom had been paid since graduation, and never spent the money on much. Instead he saved, hording it in a sense, but not because of greed but due to the exact opposite: There was nothing he wanted to splurge on. Now he was one of the richest men in Aeol Drias yet none would know based on how he acted or lived.

“There’s also something quite therapeutic about interrogating someone. After a long, stressful, week of battle, the control you have during torture is… cathartic.” A morbid smirk painted his lips. Soon he shook it away, not wanting to drag Rizzrack into his other hidden side, the side of sadism.

Nortrom shoved himself off the counter and decided to finally do something about these bandages that weren’t stopping much. He stepped out toward the hall, pulling his shirt off and revealing the wraps around his torso and the myriad of scars peeking out from under them. While the bleeding strips were new, many marks on his skin told much older tales, some painful, some memorable, all now permanent reminders etched into himself.

“Wait, you said you wanted to be a toy maker? Is that why you wanted to work on those spinning things before? Hm, what a contrast, from making toys to the timbersuit!”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack looks unsettled by the grin. He gives a nervous chuckle before sitting back down and passing it off as Nortrom’s strange sense of humor. He watches the man step off, observes him taking off the shirt and takes notice of the stained wraps. He winces at the sight. He himself has scars, but are mere nicks in comparison to Nortrom’s. Those fresh lines will just be another layer upon his body.

Rizzrack turns away and focuses on his fidgeting hands at the table while he waits for the Silencer to tend to himself. He only pipes up again after Nortrom speaks. “Y-yes, I did.” He confirms bashfully. His mouth does a poor job resisting the urge to form a smile. “Heh, cutting things is what I do, but not the only thing I do! I’ve gotta make gold somehow.” He returns to resting his chin on the table while his feet swing about idly. “It is. I honestly never would have expected it. My Uncle tried to teach me to design and build machines, just like him. It never really felt like my thing. My creations were far from practical. The first prototype I designed was deemed a failure for having ‘too many legs and not enough wheels.’ Needless to say, my plans were left to gather dust in the workshop, but as you can see I eventually made use of them.” He adds as he waves a hand to where the Timbersuit is parked outside.

The small-keen sighs as solemn thoughts approach. “Every day I wonder what things would be like if I had-” he flinches as the rest of the words stop at the edge of his tongue. It’s a thought that plagues him, that eats away at his strength and power and renders him to feeling at fault. It’s a thought that hurts no matter how he looks at it, and the only way to avoid the pain is to avoid the thought.

But perhaps now he can face it? Rizzrack attempts to start over, but chokes on the same word. “I-I’m sorry I… Nevermind. I  almost let myself get off track.” He sits silently, but his mind refuses to drop the topic. “Nortrom, do  you ever wish you could change the past? If you could, would you? If you knew you could make everything better?”

Nortromthesilencer

Rizzrack’s own fumbling words do not go unnoticed. Going down the hall, Nortrom too falls into silence as the keen fights for what to say, grabbing a small box from the closet and a couple of wash-clothes before returning. Then, Rizzrack tries once more but this time with a question. Nortrom hums, brows furrowed in thought. Would he?

“I– There are not many things I would attempt to change. What I’ve been through, it’s made me who I am. It’s shaped me, my personality, my skills, and more. To take that all back would be to erase myself entirely.” He sighs, carefully unwrapping himself and trying to not get blood on any of his furniture. Part way through Nortrom stops and stares at the ground, lost in thought. “Though, there is one thing I… No. To even think on it is pointless. What’s done is done, and dwelling on the past with hopeless potentials will only make it harder to move on.”

Even saying that, he wasn’t completely convinced. His expression remained lost, somewhere else, contemplating what could have been. The one person who needed saving most of all, the one person he would want to help above all else–

Nortrom snapped out of his trance when he felt the bandage loop come loose the rest of the way and fall on to the floor. He swore under his breath, bundling it up and making sure no stains were left on his floor. He carefully set them beside the washbasin, dipping a cloth in before reaching awkwardly to pat his back clean.

“The one thing I regret most of all, that will never leave my memory no matter how long time goes on, is not mine to change. Even if I could go back, there is no guarantee I could even right things. For all I know, my interference would only make it worse in the end.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack remains silent at the table as he dwells on Nortrom’s views. Why wouldn’t anyone go back to undo all the wrong that’s been done? Or to erase everything bad that’s happened? If the keen sacrificing his present self meant his family… everyone could still be alive to this day, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Nortrom wouldn’t go back for any benefit of himself, but he feels a hesitance he can empathize with when Nortrom considered it for another’s sake.

The keen’s restless legs fall still as he considers his next question. He has a hunch about who this person is, all based on Nortrom’s spilled secrets during his vulnerable stupor. He thinks it over, running various versions of questions through his head to see if Nortrom’s opinion stands firm, rewording them more and more until it comes out quite suddenly and blunt. “Do you think it’d be better if you never knew him, like how you never knew your parents?”

Nortromthesilencer

A few winces here, a grunt there, and some very strange stretches in an attempt to reach all of the wounds, but Nortrom manages to clean himself up for the most part. From the box, a first aid kit of sorts, he pulls out some disinfectant and gauze. In the middle of reaching around again to apply the disinfectant, he’s forced to stop by the Keen’s question. Nortrom makes a small, uncomfortable sound as he places the disinfectant back down.

“That–” He freezes mid breath, eyes darting to the side, uncomfortable, unsure. Would he be better off? “He… He caused a lot of issues, for me, for everyone. We were raised the same, expected to be the same, and hidden from one another all the same but he took things very differently. I… I regret not being able to help him when he needed it most. Had I never met him though? Had he never existed?”

Nortrom sighed, this was quite hard to talk about. His voice was losing it’s rough edge, almost cracking at the ends of his sentences while he spoke. Feeling a need to fiddle as his nerves always called for, he turned to the gauze and started to wrap himself back up while speaking, softer than before, “If I never met him, then hundreds, perhaps thousands would still be alive. Icarus would not have been driven to madness. My friends would not have been tortured. I would not have b–” Another pause, and a low hum. “I do not know the answer to that, Rizzrack. Through him I learnt more about myself than I ever had known before. Through him I finally knew family. The pain he caused was enormous, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss him. I’m sorry, I just can’t answer that.”

By this point his voice was wavering, each word taking astounding effort to form and say. Nortrom takes a shaky breath, and holds his jaw tightly clenched. He knew that to speak now would carry the risk of emotions overflowing, and that wasn’t something he wanted to show. Concentrating completely now on patching himself up, the Silencer remained silent once more.

Rizzrack

For the first time since Nortrom began tending to his wounds, Rizzrack looks to him, feeling his pain in a way. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand why the man could love or care deeply for someone who hurt him so much. He can see Nortrom himself doesn’t understand as well. The keen is feeling quite sorry for bringing that up for him, having never seen the Silencer this open, this exposed. He sees something in common between them, and he pities him for it.

“We don’t have to talk about this anymore. You’ve shared a lot.” Though with everything shared between them, he can feel neither of them have gotten closer to the answers they seek. If Rizzrack must find some good to come from this however. “Hmm, you know, I’ve always felt alone. I never thought I’d meet someone who could understand me. It doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.” It’s comforting. It’s genuine. It’s not forced pity or guilty sympathy. He’s hopeful. “I hope you don’t feel so alone.”

Less and less did Rizzrack see Nortrom as some irritable hermit. He sees himself, he sees them both, hiding beneath their bubble, their armor, avoiding what they fear to face while retaining their facade of stoicism or bravery.

Nortromthesilencer

A tinge of guilt overcomes Nortrom when he hears this, and with his back turned to the keen, hands on the counter, he huffs. “I only shared such things with you so you could get a more complete picture and not jump to conclusions. Had you not been forced to encounter my ‘past state’, we would never be having this discussion.”

The box is arranged back and closed up, ready to be put away once more. Taking it in arm, he walks again down the hall, depositing the crate into the closet and closing the door. The force is harder than intended, the wood slamming as it latched, his nerves obviously on edge. With his hands running through his hair and massaging his scalp, Nortrom returns and stands at the room’s edge.

“People get close to me for only three reasons: To harm me, to use me, or to claim ownership of me. Anyone I get to know will either fall into this category, or get harmed in some way by being in my proximity. Don’t take personal offence, Rizzrack, but I’m not exactly ready to take any chances,” Sliding his arms down, he crosses them and leans against the nearest wall. The Silencer carries very little of his stern resolve normally seen, tired both emotionally and physically, in pain, and vulnerable. He’s conflicted, still not sure where Rizzrack actually stands with himself, or he to the keen, “It’s actually unfortunate that you had to be dragged into my past as such, though I feel this is my fault. I tried to offer you a different insight into your own issues, and in doing so opened the doors for further interactions. I really need to learn to keep to myself more.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack sighs. Perhaps that’s the case with Nortrom, but he can’t help but feel that maybe it all happened for a reason?

He flinches at the sound, and his thoughts turn. No Rizzrack. You know better, you know it’s not the case.

A desire to reach out to the man is snuffed by guilt and regret. Because perhaps still, if it weren’t for his meddling, the man wouldn’t have gotten hurt more.

“It’s fine, Nortrom.” He finally decides to hop down from the seat, turning quickly to wipe the wood of any dust he may have left behind. “If not your darkness, then it’s mine. Either way I’ll have to face unpleasant things. I”m not sure if I should thank you as I didn’t want to, but I guess it was necessary.” Adjusting his gloves he walks over to Nortrom. “Now not to be rude, but I think it’s best if I get going. You really look like you need your space. I think I need mine too.” His hand reaches out for a shake. “Thanks for the food, sorry for the trouble.”

Nortromthesilencer

He forces a smile, bending down slightly as to reach the hand offered. Taking it in a firm shake, Nortrom nods, “I believe we do. There was no trouble, Rizzrack. You take care, and perhaps more will come of this at a later date.”

There was a certain glimmer of hope that maybe Rizzrack would prove his track record wrong. The keen had certainly faced his share of hardship, and now knew much more about him than most. In all of his years, only one person came to mind as not following suit and causing him further suffering, and he would be amazed, and relieved, if that happened once more.

Standing back up straight and brushing the front of his chest, Nortrom yawns. Yup. Still tired, despite sleeping in.

“Safe travels, Rizzrack.”

Rizzrack

With a nod and a single wave, the small-keen turns, ensuring this time that yes the bucket helm is on his head before he steps out the door. The sound of the suit starting up can be heard, and after a minute of consistent rumbling, crunching steps can be heard taking off, and the noise grows distant. All that remains is the wafting scent of exhaust in the air, and tracked dirt within Nortrom’s home.

The Timbersuit wanders back towards the direction of the river. Rizzrack once again looks bothered, the stains of blood on the suit’s hull reminding him of the people he murde-..

He mutters to himself. He only rid the world of monsters. It’s one less thing to worry about. One less thing to plague his thoughts. There’s other, more important things to worry about, such as…

“Caw…caw…”

His thoughts are interrupted and his eyes glance to a broken and abandoned wooden fence, eyeing the group of crows gathered upon it. He swallows dryly.

...Such as finding a new, even further region to travel to.

He needs to get away from here before something worse comes.

[aryasbadbenergy]

a little gendrya oneshot

there is a better edited version here:

(but i won’t stop u from reading this lol i just didn’t really like the ending on this one)

Arya had fallen asleep only an hour ago, but Gendry felt like he had laid there for forever. He didn’t want to leave her while she slept, but first light would come soon, and Gendry could not be caught in the Princess’s bed. Her leg lays across his stomach, and every time she moves, the smooth inside of her thigh slides across his hip. Her body bare except for the thin linen that drapes across their hips. Her head is on his arm, but most of her body rests on his side, and presses her breasts against his ribs. She shifts again, and her leg ventures lower.

Her body had small scars all over, but the insides of her thighs were soft. The outsides were just as scarred as the rest of her body. He mindlessly rubbed his hand on her back, and felt some of her scars from the House of Black and White. Her arms had healed cuts from various things, but he loved the mark on her face the most. She had fallen out of a tree as a child, and split her lip open, leaving a faint scar that led up to her nostril. He tries not to despise the scars that mark her stomach, but it’s hard. She says they’re ugly, and he knows she’s self-conscious of them every time she removes her clothes for him, so he’s sure to hide the fury he feels when he sees them. They could have killed her. They almost did. Unlike the scars that littered her body to teach her lessons for losing her balance while climbing a tree or not paying close enough attention to the end of a blade while fighting. But the scars on her belly only showed that she had failed to obey an order to kill someone underserving of death. She murmurs something to Gendry and he doesn’t know if she’s waking or sleep talking. She slides her leg across his stomach, resting it just below his belly button. Her hair, which she still keeps short (albeit neatly cut to reach her shoulders) had tangled from the early events of this morning and fell across her face. A chunk stuck to the corner of her mouth and moves a little which each breath she withdraws. Gendry smiles softly and brushes it away from her face. She hums in response, finally stirring from her sleep. She opens her eyes and huffs a little.

“Morning, already?” She mumbles, and he smiles again at her sleepy state.

“You can sleep for a while longer, I need to get back to the forge,” he whispers, trying not to rouse her too much.

“Have you slept?” She asks, shutting her eyes again and snuggling her face against Gendry’s neck.

“No, I was going to sleep for a little while at the forge before everyone wakes up,” he says, and he knows she’s probably rolling her eyes at him under his chin. The war against the Night King had ended, but Cersei Lannister still wanted Jon and Daenerys’s heads on spikes for trying to rebel against her claim to the throne. And they needed weapons to win.

“Why don’t you just sleep here?”

“And have the King in the North and his wolf catch me? I think not, m’lady.” She groans in response to the nickname. “Oh, right, my apologies, Your Grace,” he teases and she shoves his chest.

“I’m not the princess, stupid. Sansa is.”

“Last I checked, having a brother for a King makes you a princess.”

“How many princesses do you know of that invite men into their beds,” she snaps, and he lets out a small chuckle.

“Men? I hope you don’t mean more than me,” he teases and she smiles against his throat. She hums. “Well?”

“Oops, you weren’t supposed to know about my many lovers.”

“Well now that you’ve told me they exist, I have to know who I’m fighting for your affections.”

“Let’s see,” she leans up from her spot and rests her head on her hand. “There’s Podrick... Samwell... my brother’s wife Meera...”

“Bronn?”

“Him, too,” she jests. “And Jaime Lannister.”

“I must say, Your Grace, you are quite the little scoundrel of Winterfell.”

“Someone had to be,” she gives him a smile, one that was reserved for him in private. When she trained in Braavos she learned to hide her emotions, but the only one that she couldn’t control around Gendry was love.

Gendry leans forward and gives her a chaste kiss. She tries to draw him in, but he knows he needs to leave her chamber soon. She kisses him again, and pushes her leg across his stomach down lower, but he catches her thigh with one of his hands.

“I have to go,” he says.

She wraps an arm protectively around his shoulder and moves to lay over top of him, trapping him. “No.”

“Arya, I could use one finger to push you off and leave if I really wanted to,” he says, but makes no move to leave.

“Then why haven’t you?” She asks as she sits up and leans her body from left to right to straddle him. She raises her eyebrow at him, waiting for his response.

“Because I don’t want to. I need to, though,” he says, with a huff. But as Arya moves and pants over top of him, he finds it’s hard to remember why he needs to be anywhere but with her.

-

Gendry wakes up later, as light glares through Arya’s window. “Shit!” He gasps, and tries to gather his small clothes. Arya sits up and looks at him, a small blush coating her cheeks.

“You’re still here?”

“We fell asleep,” he says, trying to keep his voice down, knowing sounds carry and people whisper. “I need to leave before anyone sees me in here.”

“Right,” Arya says, and hands him his discarded breeches by the edge of her bed. Gendry pulls them on, and tries to tie all of his clothes back together neatly. He finishes dressing and laces his boots up. “It doesn’t look much later than first light, if you leave know you can probably make it out of this wing so you don’t look suspicious.” He quickly nods and walks over to Arya. He plants a small kiss on her forehead and she shoves him lightly. “Go,” she prods and he smiles at her.

He makes it out into the hallway with only a small creak from the door. He gently shuts it after looking to make sure no one is roaming the corridor. He creeps towards one of the castles many exits, but before he has the chance to hide, the King and the Princess round the corner.

“Gendry?” Jon asks, with a perplexed look on his face.

“Your Grace,” Gendry responds, falling into a kneel. Jon motions for him to stand up and Sansa wears the same look on her face.

“What brought you to the Princess’s chambers this early in the morning?” Jon asks, but Gendry knows Jon already has the answer.

“The Princess’s sword needed mending, Your Grace. She asked me to take a look at it,” Gendry lies.

“At first light? Surely you had more pressing matters to attend,” The King snaps and he stomps towards Arya’s door. He pulls it open and Arya clutches the linens to her naked chest.

“Jon! Do you knock?” Arya shouts, as Gendry accepts that he’s going to die today. Sansa grimaces and Jon steps towards Gendry.

Jon grabs Gendry’s arm and starts to walk him away from Arya’s chamber. “Sword mending,” he grumbles to himself. Sansa shuts Arya’s door and rushes behind Jon and Gendry.

“Jon,” she says, but he doesn’t respond. Gendry keeps pace with Jon and can only hope that Ghost’s whereabouts are unbeknownst to Jon. “Jon!” Sansa snaps, and Jon stops to turn around to look at Sansa.

“Sansa!” Jon responds.

“Jon, you’re making a scene. You need to calm down,” she hisses, lowering her voice. Arya emerges from her chamber, dressed in breeches and a half-tied jerkin. Her hair remains tangled, and she rushes towards the group.

“Jon, please,” Arya begs, “Can we talk about this? Not here.”

Jon finally lets his iron-like grip on Gendry go, and nods. “Fine.”

Jon doesn’t give anyone time to respond as he starts walking again. Sansa and Arya follow him, and Gendry trails behind the three, praying to every God he knows.

They end up in Jon’s solar, and Gendry sits directly across from him, extremely focused on his hands. “Do you want to explain to me why you were in my little sister’s chamber this morning?” Jon asks, looking as angry as any King Gendry had heard about.

“I needed to mend her sword, Your Grace.”

Jon’s glower tells Gendry he didn’t give him the correct response. “I fell asleep, Your Grace.”

“We were being improper,” Arya grumbles, giving her brother an eye roll.

“I know that,” Jon hisses. “I wanted Gendry to tell me.”

“Why?” Arya snaps. “Are you going to castrate him?” She agitates, and Gendry silently curses her for giving Jon the idea.

“I’ve considered it!” Gendry moves his hand to protect his manhood. He would sooner set himself on fire than be castrated.

“Jon, be reasonable, please,” Sansa says, and Gendry is thankful for her for being the only calm Stark in this situation.

“Be reasonable? One of my trusted friends has been... has been...” he shakes his hands in Gendry and Arya’s direction.

“If I remember correctly, Arya and Gendry were friends for much longer than you and Gendry. Unless you were planning on selling Arya in a marriage alliance, it does not really matter what our sister does in private.”

Jon ran his hands through his curls. “If you had asked me, I would’ve allowed you to marry,” Jon announces, unexpectedly. Gendry perks up at the King’s words. “Now that you have...” Jon doesn’t finish his statement. “You should marry. I won’t force you, Arya, but if you respect me or Gendry, you will not refuse his hand and bear his bastard.”

“I’m only a bastard, Your Grace. I can’t give the child a bastard’s name.”

“You are the late King Robert’s bastard. I only need to sign a paper, and you could have a last name to give your child.”

Gendry turns to look at Arya, not wanting to respond without her approval. “What are you waiting for, stupid? Are you going to give me your name or not?” She says, with a small smile on her face. Arya always expressed her disgust of marrying as a child, but they rarely spoke of her having to marry as adults. Gendry nods and turns back to Jon.

“Don’t think that I’ll forgive you for this easily, Gendry,” Jon huffs, and reaches for a blank piece of parchment.

“King Robert had always wanted a Stark-Baratheon marriage,” Sansa muses, and gives Arya a small smile.

(this is highly unedited, and it’s also the first gendrya thing ive ever published EVER please be nice i’m sensitive lol)

[arlome]

Born Again

So, this popped into my head, because Dwight delivering babies is a thing of beauty and make me incredibly happy.

Dwight delivers Jeremy. Enjoy!:)

She's curled up in the great bed, legs drawn up, already stripped out of her stays and frock when Dwight bursts into the room. He casts one shrewd look at her, throws his satchel on the bed, his coat on the back of a chair, and begins rolling up his sleeves. Prudie appears in the doorway behind him, her large, moon-round face purple with exertion.

"F-found 'im fer ye, C-captain Poldark, sur," she pants laboriously, her hand pressed to her side, "here be Dr. Enys fer the mistress."

Jinny Carter brushes past the large woman, carrying a bundle of fresh linen and a pitcher of hot water.

"Out, Ross," Dwight orders, and inclines his head towards the door, indicating the way out for his agitated friend, "You must leave us now."

He has his back to the pacing captain, his hands busy with the unfurling and unfolding of his instruments; behind him, Ross huffs and puffs impatiently.

"Are you certain?" the older man asks, worry and reluctance coloring his voice, "can I not be of assistance here? Might you not need me for something?"

Dwight turns to his friend in annoyance and exasperation, but the look on the captain's face makes him check himself. Instead of the scowl that he so dearly wishes to bestow upon the other man for being a hindrance and, quite frankly, a nuisance at this point, Dwight smiles gently and clasps Ross' shoulder.

"Men, unless they are physicians, have no business in the birthing room, my friend," he says quietly and taps two fingers against his friend's chest, "now, out; every moment I spend talking with you is a moment I'm not tending on your wife and unborn child."

Ross, thankfully, finally nods and turns to leave, but at the doorway, he hesitates and swerves back to look at the figure on the bed. His wife lies sweaty and shaking, overcome by spasms unfamiliar to Man; he takes one step back into the room and, at Dwight's raised eyebrows and folded arms, nods again.

"Courage, my love," he mutters in the direction of his wife, who happens to choose this specific moment to squeeze an exceedingly juicy swear word through her clenched teeth. His eyes widen, and he turns to the other man, "Dwight…I leave her in your hands…"

The surgeon exhales loudly and shoves Ross out of the room.

"Stop worrying," he says and claps the captain on his back, "go downstairs, have a glass of brandy; read something, for God's sake! I shall find you when I have news for you."

Before Dwight can manage to shut the door in his friend's face, Ross looks at him through narrow eyes and shakes his head.

"You will sing a different tune when it is you who has to go down below and read something, my friend."

Dwight laughs and shrugs.

"Oh, I very much doubt it, Ross," he chuckles, leaning against the door, "the poor woman who shall have the misfortune of marrying yours truly, will have to endure my horrid, brisk presence in the birthing chamber due to my profession. Now, out; or your child will be born without assistance!"

With that, he shuts the door in his friend's annoyed face with no small degree of satisfaction and turns to finally attend on Mrs. Poldark properly. She's curled on her left side, shaking violently and when he sits to her right, she starts and moans in pain.

"Demelza," Dwight says gently, touching a clammy hand softly, discreetly feeling for her pulse; rapid," Demelza, can you turn towards me; I would like to examine you. I need to ascertain your progress."  

The red-haired young woman shakes her sweaty head and grits her teeth.

"I," she sobs, "I-I can't move, Dwight," she takes a long breath through her nose, "'tis the p-pain; strong."

He nods and pats her knee sympathetically.

"I understand; as soon as you are able, then."

It takes another minute- which he times- until she is able to move in his direction with difficulty and double the assistance from both Prudie and Jinny. Dwight lifts up the edges of Demelza's shift, deliberately seeming to not notice the red-crimson humiliated hue to her cheeks.

"I need you to spread your legs a little bit farther, Demelza; there, right there. This may hurt a bit; forgive me, just a little further – there! Good! You've been very brave, Demelza; not long now, take heart."

Demelza breathes heavily; her eyes shut tight, brows furrowed.

"Dwight," she pants, "Dwight; why are you not marrying Joan Pascoe? Is it that Penvenen girl that prevents you from doing it?"

Dwight's eyebrows rise to meet his hairline, and his eyes widen in shock. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and turns to wipe his hands on his apron.

"Where is this coming from?" he opts to ask after a few moments of silence instead of answering her question.

Demelza smiles weekly, her eyes still shut tight. Prudie and Jinny exchange uneasy glances over their mistress' head, no doubt used to her honest nature by now.

"I m-must distract myself," she wails as another spasm clutches at her innards, "Oh, Judas God! T-this be worse than the first time!"

Dwight grabs her palm in his hand and presses on a pressure point between her thumb and forefinger. Secretly he is more than thankful for the advanced stage of her labor; she soon shall be too preoccupied to deal with the question of his forced celibacy.

"Try to breathe through the pain, Demelza," he instructs, counting seconds in his heart, "it will help."

The young woman whimpers and rolls on the bed from side to side, her right arm gripped in a tight hold. When the spasm subsides, Dwight releases her hand, which falls limp by her side.

"The pains are very close together," he says, smiling encouragingly and bends to swipe wet strands of copper curls from Demelza's sweaty forehead, "not long now; you are doing very good, my dear friend."

Demelza smiles and looks at him through tear-filled eyes.

"You are wasted on bachelorhood, Dwight," she breathes weakly, "tell me, is it too late to exchange Ross for you?"

He chuckles and shakes his head.

"There, there, Mrs. Poldark," he says, smiling, and juts his chin at Jinny as a sigh for the girl to stand at the ready, "I should dearly wish to avoid becoming your husband's shooting practice."

Demelza tries to return the jest, but a particularly powerful, squeezing contraction renders her speechless and Dwight seizes the moment to climb atop the bed and settle between her legs.

"Jinny, Prudie," he instructs, pushing the young woman's feet further apart, "you must each grab a knee and pull it upwards and towards you; yes, just like that. Demelza," Dwight nods at the red-faced girl, "now, when the pressure comes, you must push. Can you do that?"

Demelza does, and she nods and holds her breath and screams through the intense compression in her pelvis; Dwight presses a few fingers to the birthing canal to check for the child's progress.

"Very well done," he encourages the panting girl, and she sobs with relief, "a few more superb pushes like that and we shall all have an occasion for a good glass of brandy!"

Demelza laughs suddenly, and the two serving women exchange nervous smiles at the outburst. Something peaks between the quivering legs, making Dwight start.

"I see the head, Demelza!" he exclaims excitedly because, though he's attended some births in his professional life, this one is entirely different than the rest; for this is a birth of a family member, "come on, dear girl; a few more pushes will see it born!"

Three long pushes and four loud grunted screams see the child – a lovely boy – delivered safely in his hands. Demelza falls back against the pillows, spent but pleased; her curls an auburn halo of divinity about her tousled head. Prudie cries openly, dabbing at her eyes with her dirty pinafore and Jinny Carter bends to help him bathe the child.

When the afterbirth is safely delivered, Dwight takes the mewling bundle from Jinny's hands and sits by Demelza, handing her the newborn babe.

"A healthy son," he says, and his smile is dazzling and slightly wet with emotion. She looks up at him, her eyes soft and grateful.

"You know, Dwight," she says as she holds the little boy to her breast and gazes at him lovingly, "I think I may be a little bit in love with you now."

He laughs and shakes his head and looks at her with affection.

"I'm glad I could be of service," he says, and she nods, looking at him fondly.

"You are a miracle worker, Dr. Enys," she says quietly, her finger stroking her son's soft cheek, "and we are lucky to have you."

Dwight shakes his head again, suddenly bashful at the praise coming from her; he rises from the bed and inches towards the door.

"I will go congratulate Ross, shall I?"

Demelza raises her eyes and smiles at him brightly.

"Thank you."

Dwight descends the stairs, wiping his bloody hands on a towel; Ross stands below, his disheveled look giving away his agitation. No doubt he's been wearing the floor down with his pacing. At the sight of his friend, his eyes widen, and concern seeps into them and washes over his ashen face.

Dwight smiles brilliantly, his own heart full to the brim.

The sun outside is bright and warm, the summer coming early this year. Ross stares at him, waiting for the doctor's verdict with bated breath; Dwight nods in encouragement.

"You have a son."

[littlehungrywarrior]

there’s a lot of things about me that are fucking absurd and really cool, so when ppl ask me to tell them about myself, i break em out immediately (”my family heirloom is a severed head named oswald,” “I can see disney studios from my house,” etc) 

but just bc im bored and I feel like it, here’s some stuff about me that I dont think I’ve ever really talked about? not secrets, but just...mundane things that I don’t really ever say in favor of Ice Breaker™-type things 

I have a profound respect for mail services. When I was 7-8 years old, we watched a documentary in class about how the postal system works, its history, and about the various jobs involved. It was an extremely formative experience for me. I don’t send a lot of things over snailmail and so I’m not really sure how to express my respect and support but it’s definitely there. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to play the FallOut game where you’re a mail carrier, but I wanna... I wanna. 

Though I’ll claim to the ends of the earth that sports confuse me, I am a huge speed-running enthusiast. One hobby/interest/self-esteem exercise I have is that I really like to learn jargon/lingo involved with...anything, really. So I started watching speedruns to pick up the lingo and I just...became infatuated. I’m no expert but I’m %100 into it for more than the lingo at this point; I’ve long since got that covered. One of my favorite parts is golf-clapping along with other fans when something cool/impressive happens. 

I can’t sleep without a hat on. A beanie, specifically. When I was, like...5 or something, I was terrified of vampires, and for some reason I thought vampires bit the skull and not the neck. So I pulled my blankets up over my head at night. My parents thought this was dangerous (I might suffocate) so they gave me a hat to protect myself with. I’ve long since outgrown my fear of vampires (and learnt that they don’t typically bite skulls) but I’ve associated hats with nighttime safety for so long that I can’t fall asleep without one. In the event that I don’t have one, I can wear underwear on my head to suffice...and I think I wore a stuffed animal once somehow but idk. 

I’ve had my SPiN in genetics for so long that 5-year-old me used to infodump strangers at the grocery store. When I asked where babies come from, my dad got me a picture book written for kids specifically to answer that question. We still have it; my brothers used it, too. It starts by explaining pollination and then extends the same concepts to dogs and then humans. Most of the information is on pregnancy and fetuses rather than sex, and cell development immediately caught my fascination. I asked my parents for more information about this and they gave me some more microbiology stuff. Combine that with my animal obsession + budding interest in heredity and you’ve got a tiny obnoxious geneticist who wouldn’t stop telling random people in line at the grocery store about how chromosomes are passed on through haploid cells. Dad got real smug about it, it was fantastic. 

On a similar note (and I have no memory of how this actually happened), I more or less learnt to read spontaneously? All at once? Again, I have no clear memory of this until the part where I can read... My parents read to me every night but I never was able to do it myself. I had a huge library built into the wall at perfect me-height for reading. One morning, the summer I turned 5, I (according to legend) walked up to my parents, got their attention, said “I’m going to read now,” and then (this part I do remember) sat down and read every single book in that library over the course of two or three days. Super rough estimate, but it was somewhere between 70-200 books, with a variety of target ages ranging from 3 to 10-11. No chapter books, all pictures, but the second I was finished I wanted more books. My mom took me to the store to buy more and insisted I get a chapter book since I’d burnt through the picture books so fast. And that’s where I got my first Warriors book. 

That was not the last time I read an entire library. In 7th grade, a friend of mine and I both had sex ed previously and so were allowed to skip that year’s sex ed on the condition that we spent that class in the school library. And together, we read the entire thing. Only what was on the shelves, though; nothing in the back. Actually, at one point on the last day, we’d already read every book in the place and we were bored, so we pulled some books out of the back to look at and none of them caught our interest. One of them was the first Hunger Games book WAY before it got popular. We’d never heard of it, both read the first 2 pages, didn’t like it at all, and put it back. You should’ve seen our faces when it suddenly blew up into a huge thing. The sad thing is, I remember a lot of books that I enjoyed but can’t find now because I can’t remember any specific titles or characters. We sped through everything to finish it all and didn’t really take a lot of time to absorb details so a lot of them are lost to the vague, hazy back of my memory. Still looking for that manga where the ninja kid...stops an evil scientist from...some kind of virtual world machine. There’s a piranha tank? And then the bad guy...gets sniped by a helicopter and falls off the roof, or something? Also there was a manga version of Maximum Ride, which I only remember by name because 2 chapters in it suddenly hit me that this was a comic version of a text-novel my mom was reading at the same time. I bought a handful of books from that library at the end of the year and still have them. 

I’ve only been in one play but something fucking sweet happened during production. I was Malvolio in Twelfth Night because, and I quote my drama teacher (who had known me for 8-ish years at that point and also who was smirking her ass off when she said this), “You’ll see why when you read the play.” She was not wrong and to this day that smug fuckin grin gives me life. Anyway, I was Malvolio, and you know that “Some have greatness thrust upon them” speech that everyone’s so inspired by? That speech is a fucking prank pulled on this asshole and it’s about bangin’. So the scene is that I dramatically read this “””love letter””” I’ve received and then run off to go embarrass myself. The speech is LONG and so I asked if I can just...actually have it written on the letter. And she said yes! So I wrote it down with intent of reading it off the letter. But opening night, the actress who was to place the letter grabbed the wrong paper and so I got just a blank sheet. Guess fucking what? We’d re-choreographed that scene so many times the night before that I slammed that shit anyway, word-for-fucking-word. And I was never mad at my friend for grabbing the wrong paper, so I say this in jest, but her punishment for grabbing the wrong paper is that the entire cast/production team did not hear the end of my pride for the entire week. For a timeframe reference, I was 12. 

When I was a kid I had a horse named Emmy. She was a rental horse. Actually, I think she was a pony? The way the rental worked was that she lived in a barn with a bunch of other horses. Her owners were a small business who gave riding lessons, but instead of just riding each session, one of the horses was “yours” (assigned by age, height, and temperament, not picked by the kid) to take care of while you were there and ride consistently every session. Essentially, she was only my pet when I was on the property. I can still ride but I’ve gotten rusty and I can’t do anything above a trot for more than a few seconds. Both times I’ve jumped have been accidents, once on Emmy and once on mom’s current horse, Meteor. I’ve fallen only once, and it was off Emmy. Mom’s going to be getting a gigantic thoroughbred soon and I’m both terrified and excited to ride this very large boy. 

I talk about this in person but not online because...why would it ever come up online?? I have worn the same style of red jacket every single time I leave the house since I was a pre-teen. It’s to the point where people will only recognize me if I’m wearing it. I had a friend in high school who was/is a really cool guy, we were seniors and we’d been close friends since freshman year. I had my jacket tied around my waist because of the heat. The school had two campuses a block apart and I was walking from one to the other to get something. Friend was walking from the other to the one, so we passed each other. Wordlessly. No wave, nothing. I was tired, it was hot, I didn’t really think anything of it. Then suddenly, a foot behind me, he freezes dead in his tracks and says my name with some kind of stricken shock. He had no idea it was me. At all. Keep in mind: my jacket? Tied around my waist. Not even off, just around my waist. Since then I’ve used this jacket thing to my advantage. Sparingly, I can take it off to sneak around. It’s like I’m invisible to people I know unless I say something and they hear my voice. It’s incredible. 

Going back to speed running, way before I knew that it was a thing at all, I taught myself to speedrun two games: The Lion King (PS2, not the impossibly hard one) and Putt Putt Saves The Zoo. As they were unofficial speedruns that I didn’t really call anything and just kinda did when I was bored, I never timed the latter, and I only timed the former once using my mom’s kitchen timer. It was a rough estimate since sometimes I paused and forgot to hit play for a few seconds, or I needed to pause but didn’t for a few seconds, and the timer only counted full minutes anyway, but I still remember the time: 35 minutes. I keep meaning to go back and re-teach myself to speedrun it, perhaps more professionally, and time it with more accuracy. I still remember all the strats but I can’t pull them off with as much fluidity as I could when I was still in practice. I also can, when watching both Lion King 1 and 2, still point out with frame-perfect accuracy exactly when a scene starts that was a cutscene in that game. 

wow writing this was fun and I kinda wanna do it again. ok 

[extendedtkwrtrilogyend]

Chapter XXI (EXT): The Best of Sons (Pt. II)

“Thank you,” I said holding Êlúriel in my arms the next morning.

“You are welcome,” she said, kissing me. “To what do I owe such gratitude?”

“For everything. Mostly for being my queen, my wife and the mother of my children.”

“I could do none of those things without you, Thranduil,” she said. “Much to my disappointment.”

“Do I bring you displeasure,” I asked smiling.

“You can never displease me, my love,” she whispered. “Not entirely. But the day has only begun.”

“The queen must never be dissatisfied,” I said. “It reflects poorly on the king.”

“We cannot let that happen, can we,” she said, laughing softly. “What can I do as to not reflect poorly on the king?”

“There are many things you could do, Êlúriel,” I answered. “But only one comes to mind just now.”

“What might that be,” she asked.

“You could love me.”

“Thranduil, I love you too much as it is,” she said. "I would think you have had enough.”

“Not today,” I said. “But the day has only begun.”

“So it has,” she said. “Time to fulfill my royal duties.”

“Can they wait,” I asked.

“I suppose,” she began holding me closer. “But I thought you wished me to love you just now.”

“You consider loving me a royal duty,” I asked in jest.

“Of course, my love,” she said. “It is my most important duty as queen. And my most favorite."

**** **** **** ****

Later that morning, I made my way to my study as Êlúriel went about her royal duties. I had all but forgotten our disagreement the night before as entered to find my council waiting.

“You are of good spirits this morning, Thranduil,” Fëaluin said.

“You could say that, Fëaluin,” I answered. “What of you?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

“Nimlos,” I began arriving at my table as Eldôr and Elranduil looked over several maps. “Tell me of this maiden that seemed to mesmerize Êlenuil so much.”

“I beg your pardon,” he asked surprised.

“Isílriel told me of one maiden Ardôr’s son seemed taken with,” I said looking up at him. “Tell me, would you know her by chance?”

“There were many maidens,” he said softly. “All of them mortal."

“Thranduil,” Fëaluin said slowly. “Not now. We have things that must be done immediately to put things in order after our battle in Dale.”

“I am curious, Fëaluin,” I said. “Am I not King? Do I not have the right to know whom has come into my kingdom when I have been away from it?”

“You speak of our cousin,” Nimlos answered. “Êlúriel must have spoken to you of her.”

“Eventually,” I answered. “She also said that I should wait for Êlenuil to speak of it to me.”

“I could not agree more,” Eldôr said. “It is of little consequence.”

“Perhaps it would not be if not for whom Êlenuil is.”

“He said nothing,” Elranduil said. “Not to anyone. That I can assure you. The maiden spent much of her time with the Queen and her ladies.”

I looked at Nimlos—his face ashen and stoic. I nodded to him.

“Very well,” I said. “Will I have the opportunity to meet her? She is family after all.” “I cannot say,” Nimlos said, his face returning to color. “She did not say anything to me of her plans to return and Nenloth has spoken little since she left us.”

“She is welcome then if she wishes to return,” I said. “I see no harm in it. As for Êlenuil, I suppose seeing a mortal was fascinating.”

The room was silent as no one said anything to me. It seemed unnerving but I was satisfied with what they had told me in that moment.

**** **** **** ****

I enjoyed taking rides with Legolas most days and reading in my study during the rain or walks through the forest after a gentle snow. I watched as my household grew as some in my kingdom took solace in seeing their kin in the Undying Lands. I thought often in winter—looking toward a darkening evening sky into the west and wondering when I would leave if at all. I was growing old but no age shown upon my face. Only the fading glow of in my eyes would tell anyone of my age. All I had seen and suffered seemed as distant as the stars.

One night long after the halls had fallen quiet, I left my chambers. The night cast no shadows as a gentle snow fell. I wandered into the night a gentle breeze drifted as I went to where I had met my love in our youth. The only song that I heard was the wind through my ears. I looked around—hoping to see something and I would.

It was Legolas walking toward me. He knew my habits well and often would follow me wherever I went.

“Ada,” he said. “It is late and cold. Why are you out of the palace?” “For the same reason as you,” I said. “Looking.”

“I am looking for you,” he laughed. “It would seem I am always looking for you.”

“I am looking for myself,” I said. “It has been too long, Legolas. I am thinking on leaving Mirkwood forever with your mother.”

“If you leave I would be king,” he said. “I do not think I would do very well. I want to leave myself. See the world.”

“You were always trying to leave,” I said. “Not one to stay put for long. You were either in a bush or a tree when you were not filling the caverns with half of the creatures of the forest. I suppose it would not surprise me that you wished to leave.”

“I would return,” he laughed. “I just want to know what is out there. You have seen much of it, have you not, Ada?”

“I never left my home unless it was for war. Then all I saw was pain and death.” He looked at me with a grimace. He then politely kneeled down to take a handful of snow and throw it in my face.

“Legolas,” I began. “That was not wise.”

He did it once more and in a matter of moments, we were throwing snow at on another in the middle of the night upon the very place I met and wed his mother. I loved spending time with Legolas whom, as his mother, could make me smile.

When we heard voices, we stopped and looked around. It came from the East. As it grew louder, Legolas drew his bow and we slowly followed the sound. A loud cry pierced the night in fear. It was the sound of a maiden and two men. I saw an Eastern guard run toward her voice as we followed them. I heard more voices and then sobbing. We ran toward the direction of the crying.

We came upon Findôl and his men helping a young maiden rise from the ground. A small lantern she was carrying lay beside her offering the only view of her features. She had the longest dark brown hair I had ever seen and sharpest green eyes. Her delicate features told me she was not a child nor was she old enough to marry.

I approached her and she cowered.

“Please do not hurt me,” she said. “I am lost and do not know where I am.”

“I am not going to hurt you,” I said. “But I will ask you why such a young maiden traveling alone at this hour through my kingdom. Where do you belong?”

“Dale,” she said. “I got lost on my way there.”

“What is your name,” I said curiously. She seemed familiar to me somehow.

“Súlelenth,” she said finally looking up at me. “Daughter of Haldúir, an archer for King Bain.”

“You are not lost,” I said. “You came here for something, to be sure. Is there trouble in Dale?”

“No,” she said finally standing to her full height. “All is well there. May I leave now?”

“You are in the presence of King Thranduil,” Findôl said.  “You will show respect.” 

She looked up and smiled and I knew it all to well—so much so, I felt chill icier than the air run threw me.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she said bowing. “I have heard much about you from my mother.”

“Who is your mother,” I asked, moving closer to her to inspect her. “In Dale, or will I find her out there looking for her daughter?”  

“She is with my father,” she said. “She does not know I am away.”

“Why are you away?”

She looked around at us in fear. We must have seemed frightening—several armed elven warriors and their king glaring down on her beneath a dim light of an old lantern.

“I am looking for Êlenuil,” she said softly.

I felt my heart beating faster as I remembered not long ago the maiden that had come into my kingdom. This one seemed too young to be the same.

“You were looking for Êlenuil,” I said. “Well, look no further, Súlelenth. I will most gladly take you to him.”

I motioned to the guards to follow me and Legolas to the palace. She did not put on a struggle—she seemed calm and nearly joyous to come into the realm.

“Ada,” Legolas whispered. “I have seen her before.”

“When was this,” I asked hardly listening. “After my return from Dale?”

“No, Ada. No more than a week ago.”

I stopped abruptly as everyone almost fell down. Súlelenth laughed—so much like Êlúriel I almost turned around.

“A week ago,” I said. “Why was I not informed of this?”

“Because that was the first and last time I saw her,” he said. “Tarthôn says she comes here quite often.”

We both turned and looked at the young maiden as my guards picked themselves from the ground. She reminded me so much of Êlúriel with every movement I thought she was an elf.

I continued to the palace so swiftly, Legolas struggled to stay beside me. The gates flew open and lanterns came on as I woke up the palace.

“Ardôr,” I roared.

Eldôr, Elranduil, Nimlos came running with Ardôr close behind. Aramoth and Nenloth came forth from the balcony into the vestibule. Nenloth gasped and fainted, her husband catching her. Nimlos’ color faded from his face as Ardôr came before me.

“Yes, Thranduil,” he said bewildered. “What is the matter? Who is this child?”

“You do not know,” I asked.

“Why would I know her?”

“She knows your son rather well,” I said.

Elves stood quietly waiting for anything to happen. Out of the crown of elves, Êlenuil stepped forward. His face seemed to brighten when he saw Súlelenth.

“Súlelenth,” he said. “You are here.”

She smiled and ran to him and they embraced. I looked at Ardôr—I was not happy as I could see they were in love.

The halls fell quiet when Êlúriel came down the hall as she walked past me and slowly over to them. Her eyes never wavered from the girl—for she seemed to cast a spell over her.

“Im Êlúriel od Ossiriand,” she said to Súlelenth.

Súlelenth released Êlenuil and faced Êlúriel.

“Im Súlelenth,” she answered.

“I know, dear child. Tell the King who is your mother, Súlelenth,” Êlúriel said.

The girl looked down at the floor and started to cry. She looked around at the elves around her, her green eyes filled with tears. She looked at me and her gaze startled me. She looked at Êlúriel again.

“Arímë,” she said. “Daughter of Gildúr and Sirurial.”

Nimlos slowly walked over to Súlelenth—his face stoic in disbelief. He embraced the girl tightly as tears fell from his eyes.

“My dear cousin,” he cried.

Soon the silence was broken as everyone began to speak among themselves.

“Êlúriel, come with me,” I said quietly.

She nodded. As we turned, the court paused to bow to us before we left them for my study. The lanterns burned in the room—flickering to the soft flowing waters of the winter falls. I turned toward Êlúriel, her gaze to the floor.

“You knew of this,” I said sternly.

“Yes, Thranduil,” she began.

“And you did not say anything to me?”

“It was not for me to tell,” she whispered.

“You are my wife,” I growled. “Or does that mean nothing to you?”

“Yes,” she said looking up sharply. “And as your wife, I know you would not allow them to be together.”

“You know me well, Êlúriel,” I said as my voice began to fill the room. “Then you will know what I am going to do next.”

“You will not,” she scolded. “You will not tear them apart! I will not allow it!”

"You will not allow me,” I asked. “Who are you to not allow me to do my will?”

“The Queen,” she said. “Or have you seemed to forget I rule beside you in this kingdom?”

“She is a mortal,” I began. “Not in my household and not in my halls, Êlúriel!”

“You know more than anyone you cannot help with whom you fall in love,” she said. “Have you forgotten all these years?”

“No,” I said, calming myself. “But this is different.”

“How is it different,” she asked.

“Mortals grow old and they die,” I said. “What will he do then, Êlúriel? What will be left except to despair. You wish that for him?”

“No more than I wish him to be alone,” she said. “That would be as death to him.”

She was right and I knew it.

“She is the daughter of your mortal cousin,” I whispered. “What she must think of this I can only wonder."--TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil (EXT. VER.) by J.M.Miller 7-5-17

Images: ©2012, 2013, 2014. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Hobbit: The Unexpected Journey, The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug, The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies. All Rights Reserved.

[autochthonousone]

The Mythril Blades - Dark Waters

The sea-swept breeze pushed itself roughly over the Blades as they approached the small settlement, the foul, stinging scent of rotting fish heavy upon the wind. If one had said that the eighth calamity had begun in this very outpost, judging purely by the appears of the docks they would not be too far amiss. Buildings were ransacked, carts were overturned, and merchant stalls were all but demolished with scraps littering the ground.

Barengar Armsbreaker ( @autochthonousone ) came hurrying up the road a shortwhile after the Blades had arrived at the settlement, having been called in from a remote location for this particular leve. He moves to fall in line with Adun, grunting quietly in greeting.

Dominique La'fleur ( @neekaxiv ) pursed her lips together, eyes narrowing at the sight of the docks. "There's a suspicious lack of bodies for the amount of blood over there." She frowned.

Asher Rukoth( @theash-hatrukoth​ ) : "Eeuugh..." Donning exaggerated grimace, Asher brought up free hand to scratch over cheek and scar whilst flicking spear against shoulder guard. "Ah'm thinkin....that everyone's dead. Now 'ats just a hunch, buuuut....yea."

Asher Rukoth: "Fishies were probl'y 'ungry."

Tarasa Blaetwyn peered into the distance with her special eyes, noting the carnage on the far pier. "I would agree, but I see no bodies present."

Adun Blackblade ( @domriblackblade ) made his way right up next to Barry, but didn't say anything right away. Instead, his gaze turned to the dock, lips downturned in a small frown. Finally, he looked back at Barry. "I approve of you, by the way. So don't fuck up."

Sokhatai Mol ( @the-worst-mercenaries ) lurked behind the group as a good, squishy healer should. She was staring at the hamlet, eyes drawn together as she tried to piece together whatever happened. She stopped, listening intently before breaking off from the group to follow whatever she'd heard.

Erioch Koren ( @erioch ) looked over his gear as he approached the small town, one eyebrow arching upwards as Barengar approached. "Good to be seein' you too, Barengar. Don't get to fallin' in with all that armor."

Benathi Nightsong slipped off the violet chocobo she called mount and friend. A brief ruffling of feathers on the beast's neck, then Bena whispered. The Chocobo gave off a call in response before running off to the shallow waters. Perhaps for a snack.

Asher Rukoth pointed towards his right. "There be some little 'kitties' o'er that way though. So whoever's the least scary ah us best get tah checkin it out...Ah nominate Barry. He seems the cuddly sort."

Dominique La'fleur: "I ain't seen any amount of fish that could gobble up whatever left that much." She pointed towards the pools of blood.

Barengar Armsbreaker blinked at Adun's words before simply setting them aside for the time being and shifting his attention to Erioch, "I'll be doin' m'best not ta."

Adun Blackblade: "Good."

Erioch Koren looked over to Soks as she began to move towards the building, his footsteps falling in behind the Au Ra. "Well don't jus' get to stompin' o'er there without...shite."

Dominique La'fleur crossed her arms under her chest, not moving from her position as narrowed eyes continued to look around the area.

Tarasa Blaetwyn stepped up to Neeka "Cute shirt."

A Lalafell pulls herself around a small Highlander child as much as she is able to seemingly shield the infant from the approaching Blades. Panic rides wild in her eyes, breath heaving quickened pants as she attempts to scurry deeper into her hiding spot. Any attempt to speak with the woman simply sees her stammering back while looking away. “P…please I d-d-don’t know anything. Just let us go, take whatever you want, just let us go.”

Sokhatai Mol waved him off, eyes still locked on the bush. "If it was dangerous I would have sent the loud lancer." Sokha grumbled, leaning forward and peering into the bushes. "It's alright."

Adun Blackblade wandered up behind Neeka and rested his chin on her shoulder.

Asher Rukoth: "Sahagin could'a just diced the folk up afore nommin’ on them," he offered. "Unless ah course they decided that stick dem octopus things atop their 'eads..."

Dominique La'fleur raised an eyebrow as her gaze flicked to Tara, a grin tugging at her lips. "Aye, fashionable and dangerous." she shrugged the shoulder adorning several metal spikes.

Dominique La'fleur looked over her shoulder at Adun, a hand reaching up to pat his head. "How does that eyesoar of whatever it is around your waist not get in your way?" She snickered.

The lalafell lets out a scream as Sokhatai speaks out, her whole frame curling in on itself as she devolves to open weeping. "No...no we don't have t-t-the c-carriage! Don't eat us!"

Sokhatai Mol slumped, sighing and falling back as she shot a glare at Erioch. "... This isn't your fault but I'm blaming you. Maybe someone that's... more /familiar/ in appearance should try to console them."

Barengar Armsbreaker folds his arms over his chest, his gaze falling upon the the panicked lalafell and Sokhatai, glancing between the two. The man blinked the former cried out in terror, his posture going rigid.

Adun Blackblade: "By being nearly fifty and having everything but the kitchen sink thrown at me to overcome in battle. Also, it'll fall off it it's too much." He barely paid any mind to Socks terrifying the lalafell.

Erioch Koren takes a step back from Sokhatai, his teeth drawing against each other. "Shite, easy there...goin' in baring your fangs like some dragon wantin' a swivin' snack at the pair o' 'em."

Asher Rukoth pursed his lips together and sighed. "Dis is why ah nominated Barry. He's friendly lookin..." Unable to continue jest with straight face, he chuckled softly and approached the terrified duo in front of Soks. Slamming spear point down into earth, he held hands up as a sign of non-aggression. "Everythin's all right missy. We're 'ere tah 'elp."

Benathi Nightsong 's eyes flick over to the bush, giving off an internal sigh, "Hey, hey, no one here's gonna eat ya."

Barengar Armsbreaker snorts.

Tarasa Blaetwyn walks up, grunts a little then turns around. "Not good with children."

Sokhatai Mol returned to Adun's side with a scowl, folding her arms with a huff. "... this is why I prefer animals to people."

The small woman looked up to those approaching before scooting further away from Soks, the baby cradled in her arms. A hard swallow gives way to the woman's high voice barely squeaking out towards Asher and Benathi. "Y...you're here to help? Thank the Twleve, praise the Twelve! Please, help the child..."

Adun Blackblade grinned at Socks.

Erioch Koren shot a wide, toothy grin to Sokhatai. "Well from how that was goin' I'm guessin' other people prefer you dealin' with animals too."

Dominique La'fleur seemed to also pay no mind to the confrontation, instead just letting out a sigh while looking back at Adun.  "Still, you could do with some fashion advice." She wrinkled her nose.

Adun Blackblade: "Will you dress me?"

Dominique La'fleur: "And give the priestess another reason to try and off me with those bitchy eyes of hers?"

Adun Blackblade: "I said dress, not undress. Has she been misbehaving? Should I speak to her?"

Asher Rukoth slipped on confident smile and dipped his chin, nodding. "Aye, we're 'at's exactly right." Approaching the Lala, he knelt down and looked over the child before fixing gaze on the caretaker. "Ye've done a mighty fine job lass, makin sure this lil one was safe. Best ye be 'oldin on'tah 'im still though...Can ye tell us what 'appened?"

Erioch Koren moved forward into the settlement just a touch, his form kneeling down next to a spot of crimson-stained ground. "Huh...there's ain' any bodies 'round here."

Sokhatai Mol: "Don't worry, you'll find some chocobo leavings in the bar when I come back." Sokha called back to Erioch with a frown, watching Asher and the children. "There's plenty."

Dominique La'fleur rolled her eyes. "I don't need a white knight to take care of me Adun. I ain't seen the woman in a while, best be keepin' it that way 'till the storm is over."

Adun Blackblade: "That's gonna be a long storm."

Benathi Nightsong nodded, remaining behind and offset to the left of Asher, casting her eyes into the small harbor town, giving a slight frown before returning to the Lalafell. She remained quiet, since Asher had already spoken.

Dominique La'fleur: "Oh I know."

The woman finally stood, a few sniffles giving way to more confident words. "I..don't know. We were all going about our day when these fish...men...things attacked. They started just..." She shudders before bouncing the infant slightly in her arms. "...eating everything they could. It was chaos so I took the child and hid. Gods, they chased so many down and took them back into the water..." To the lalafell's credit, she manages to hold back the tears any further.

"Can...can we leave now? Is it safe back that way? I think we can make it to Horizon..."

Barengar Armsbreaker moves up toward Erioch, noting that Asher and Benathi seemed to have the lalafellin woman under control. His eyes swept over the same patch of crimson that Erioch did, grumbling quietly to the man, "Thinkin' they took th' bodies?"

Adun Blackblade grunted softly and straightened up. "So, do we get to kill things now?"

Dominique La'fleur: "Gotta find'em first to kill'em"

Benathi Nightsong nodded, "I think we've got a good idea what's happened. If he's done here," she nodded in Asher's direction, "I've got a chocobo y'can ride to Horizon."

Sokhatai Mol cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowing. "I don't think they took anything. Where are the drag marks? All I've seen are puddles."

Dominique La'fleur: "We could all have ourselves a little fishin' party at the docks to bait'em out? If they're still even near here."

Erioch Koren righted himself, breath huffing from his lungs as he drew the handaxe from his side. "I ain' knowin' what they did with 'em, but they ain' here now. Not matterin' much, anyroads, job is stayin' the same whether folk were here or not, aye?"

Adun Blackblade: "Is it sahagin? Should probably check the water."

Asher Rukoth pressed tongue to tooth, no longer all that enthused. Not even with how his prediction was right. Glancing back over his shoulder to Bena, he rubbed chin for a moment and then fixed attention back on the woman and child. "Aye, ah think it be safe...but first off, when ye were runnin did'ja see any ah the fish-folsk go any other way aside from the shore?"

She shook her head as she scrambled atop the chocobo, the child nestled against her chest. "They took everything back down into the water, by the docks. You're going to fight them? B...be careful." WIth another nod the Lalafell turned the chocobo around and began to make her way back towards Horizon, happy to be free from whatever befell the settlement.

Courrier bore the weight of the Lalafell and the infant with apparent ease, "To Horizon with you," Bena murmured to the beast before she left, knowing the destination.

Dominique La'fleur tapped her foot impatiently, a scowl washing over her features.

Erioch Koren grinned wide as he looked back to Adun. "Hells, Grumbles...didn' know you were so into swimmin'. If you're that anxious you're more'n welcome to be leadin' the charge, I ain' lookin' forward to takin' a dip in the ocean anytime soon."

Adun Blackblade: "The hell's got you so cranky, Neeka?"

Asher Rukoth: "Dun you worry bout 'at, we're professionals aft'all." Giving the woman a reassuring smile, he stood and waved them on before moving to claim spear and return to group. "So," he said to the lot. "Fishies ate everyone an most like ther by the docks...Ah'm thinkin we should get Bena an Tara up ontah the buildin's fer superiority in battle."

Dominique La'fleur 's eyes shot daggers towards Adun as her gaze snapped to him. "I'm not cranky." She replied firmly before stomping off towards the docks, clearly ignoring Asher's tactics.

Adun Blackblade follows!

Benathi Nightsong: "Or just... walk."

Asher Rukoth: "Yep. Ther we go, nevermind me." Rolling his eyes, he followed after with a bemused sigh.

Erioch Koren did a double take as Adun and Neeka started walking off, his shoulders rising in a shrug. "Y'know, one o' these suns we'll actually get to usin' some kind o' tactics with this bunch." Rough laughter fell from the man as he followed the three.

Sokhatai Mol: "Tactics? What's that?"

As the group approaches the docks, the reason for the scent becomes more and more evident, several discarded, half-eaten carcasses of all types are washed upon the shore and bumping against the sides of the docks. Before one would have time to comment on the sorry state of the pier, several large pools of bubbles spring to the surface of the water on either side. Within a single beat, a Sahagin leaps out from the ocean and land heavily upon the docks.->

The creatures appear as though nightmarish fiction alone could conceive them, patches of swollen and grotesque skin and muscle spread all over their figures in various places. Each of their fingers are elongated into wickedly curved claws, their mouths too wide to close fully and full of teeth that would only puncture their lips were they to close. Guttural howls tear from their throats as they charge the Blades, their eyes devoid of thought beyond hunger.->

Asher Rukoth: "Ah d'no. Learned bout em in Ishgard but some'ow ah ne'er quite seen em used afore...Rare as Black Mages these days apparently."

Benathi Nightsong: "That's not a Sahagin."

Tarasa Blaetwyn: "Secrecy is a black mages best weapon."

From below the docks, several long, clawed Sahagin hands burst up to tear and drag Erioch, Neeka, Adun, and Barry into the water. The three creatures that had leapt aboard the pier rushing Asher, Benathi, and Tarasa before attempting to grab and bite them as though to eat them raw. Similarly, one more mutated beastman emerges from the shore, its body bent down on all fours as it spins about in a frenzy before charging Sokhatai.

Adun Blackblade groaned softly as he saw the mutant whatevers. Well, he assumed they were mutant because he'd never seen them before. As one approached him, he fell right side dropping back, aether swirling around him as he aspected. Charging forward, he met the creature half way, throwing two strikes right at its face right off the bat.

Neeka’s gaze snapped towards the pair of claws bursting up from the docks, a vicious snarl washing over her features. The dragoon was in the air with a jump before the beast could latch on. A hand reached to her back, unstrapping her lance and angling it downwards. Her descent came with the spear driving into the creature’s arm.

Asher Rukoth cocked his head to the side, a stupid, incredulous laugh escaping parted lips. "Well they look /reaaaal/ friendly," he managed. Continuing to laugh, he unholstered gun belted to his side and took quick aim. A crack followed as the bullet discharged into the beast charging him, entering and exiting scaled shoulder in spray of blood.

Tara quickly noticed the creatures leap out of the water. She quickly placed a hand on the ground and left ember that quickly began to grow in size before riding the aether out of the way as the Creature ran into the now decently sized ball of fire that erupted on impact to soak it in flames.

Sokhatai Mol had been too busy watching the others get ambushed on the docks to pay much attention to the one hellbent on charging her down. She managed to scramble away just in time, narrowly ducking under the charge but not being much help to anyone.

Bena drew her bow from her back as they approached the docks. She drew an arrow and pulled back as the mutated Sahagin began to lunge at them. The one that charged her didn't get a chance to bite; Bena brought a booted leg forward and kicked the thing roughly in the chest, sending it tumbling back down the stairs. Benathi loosed her arrow at the downed Sahagin, the projectile finding purchase in the corrupted beastman's stomach.

Barengar Armsbreaker blinked as the creature burst up onto the dock, blinking several times at its misshapen body. There was something foul at work here. He didn't know what it what but he knew he didn't like it. Barengar failed, however, to quickly react to the hands that burst up through the docks. He managed to avoid getting restrained by the beast's grip, but still goes falling into the water below as the ground he stood upon gave way.

As the claws burst up from beneath Erioch the man can only curse, half of the word muffled as he is sent beneath the waves. “Shi-Mmflg!” Claws scrape along the man’s coat, digging through the fabric to take a chunk out from above his ribs. (Take 2 damage.)

Those pulled under by the Sahagin would feel claws and teeth ripping and tearing all about them, though not necessarily at the Blades. It would seem as though some sort of pure feeding frenzy was going on beneath the waves, beastmen attacking each other for the newly-found food as often as they were trying to devour the Blades. Those without a Mythril Snack reached up from the water to once more try and pull Neeka and Adun beneath.

Back upon solid ground, the creatures attacking Tarasa and Asher lunged forward, oddly-muscled shoulders attempting to knock the two prone before leaping atop them and dragging them towards the pier. The remaining Sahagin all continued their wild assault against Benathi and Sokhatai, long arms trying to wrap them against their forms before blade-like teeth sank deep into their flesh. ->

From the end of the pier, a giant splash of blood-soaked sea sprayed upwards, a massive, scaled arm as big as a full grown Roegadyn man reaching out from the depths to try and grip upon the fragmented dock. The boards of the pier give way under the strain, the arm once more plummeting into the sea before a second attempts the same with more success.

Adun was caught off guard by yet another creature coming to drag him under water. As the gross claw things tore through his shirt and into his skin, he growled low and took the opportunity to open a chakra before being dragged under the water.

The dragoon’s gaze snapped to Adun, eye’s going wide as he was pulled from the dock and dragged under. The distraction was enough for a clawed hand to wrap around her boots and pull the redhead under. The metal of her greaves now shattered as she kicked and flailed violently under the sea, trying to get her bearings and figure out her next move. (Armor gone. HP - 5/5)

clicked his tongue and frowned having expected the stopping power to be enough to at least stumble the creature. Turning to the side and taking a half step back, he avoided tackle and watched the too close mutated-fishy rush by, unable to deliver proper counter attack and unwilling to overextend himself in the attempt.  (Untouched)

Tarasa eyed the mutant with odd fascination as it soaked the fireball and turned to lunge at her. "Interesting." She was focused on her own battle as she flung a tumultuous ball of lightning at the creature to zap it before it reached her causing it to go rigid then fall dead at her feet.

Sokhatai scrambled past once more, the benefit of being tiny and the burst of adrenaline letting her evade the snatching beastman as it tried to pull her towards the water. The crystal at her side sparked to life, drawn out by Sokha's needs before sending the rush of healing aether towards the smart-arsed barman that probably didn't deserve it. ((Erioch healed +2))

Bena wasn't prepared for how quickly the Sahagin would recover and lunge back to her.  The Sahagin got his claws around the Ishgardian, using his weight to actually pick up the woman, his grip causing her to drop her bow. He tried to take a bite out of her as he hauled her down to the docks. Thankfully, he just crunched the leather and metal that made up Bena's left shoulderpad, ripping it off from her and spitting it into the water as the Midlander struggled to get free.

The Armsbreaker thrashed and struggled against his attacker's attempts to pull him deeper into the darker regions of the crimson stained waters. His jaw clenched and exercised as much force as he had at his disposal to smash the head of the sahagin that was grappling him. Managing to daze the creature just enough to free himself from the grasp, Barry quickly grabbed from one piece of debris to the next in an attempt to find a way out of the water in the time that he had bought himself.

Erioch twists and turns beneath the waves, his head just breaking the surface long enough to draw in a deep breath before he is tugged underneath the waves once more. One of the mutated creatures sinks its teeth into his shoulder as he is held down, the Highlander reaching upwards to try and pry the creature loose before once more making a break for the surface. A muffled thanks is spoken out to Sokhatai as his wounds begin to close.

The Sahagin slashing its claws at Tara falls flat, it’s body heaving its last before it lies fully still. Meanwhile the same creature that had dragged Benathi to the docks now worked to bring the woman beneath the ocean, teeth trying to find a firm hold. The monster on all fours wheels away from Sokhatai and instead opts to charge Asher, leaping into the air with a howl. Thankfully, Sokhatai is left alone, the other Sahagin occupied.  ->

Beneath the waves the feeding frenzy continues, more delicious Mythril Morsels being dragged below for the beings to try and tear apart. With a deep, grinding groan the creature at the far end of the docks final manages to pull itself up out of the water, the whole of him swollen and bloated with whatever was altering the beastmen. Its right arm was weighed down by an anchor and chain, the metal lodged in its twisted flesh.

Adun held his breath as he was under water. Like it was a match of goddamn blitz ball, he used the momentum of the creature pulling him under and turned underwater so homehow kick it and swim up to the surface. As he beached the waters, he took in a deep breath and clawed at the docks, pulling himself up onto the side.

Neeka was determined to not lose her weapon, struggling under the water to get the lance strapped into the holster on her back. Doing so, she didn’t notice one of the creatures behind her wanting to make the dragoon lunch. A scream tore from her lips as grotesque teeth tore into her unarmored shoulder, causing a stream of bubbles to rise towards the surface.

Asher Rukoth bared teeth in vicious grin, eyes alight with the mistake just made by the beastie. Opting to lower pistol, he adopted throwing stance, lined up his polearm with the incoming foe, reared back his arm and loosed; spear point sliding easily through soft belly to appear out the other side of its back along with a good portion of metal haft. When it hit the pier with boneless crack, the rest of the weapon cleared for Asher to claim it again.

Tara bent over and poked the dead monster with the tip of her staff a few times to make sure it was indeed dead before standing up and taking a moment to survey all her co workers now in the water before dropping down some ley lines in prep for the large one coming down the way. "A rather large one is on the way Asher."

Sokhatai Mol let go of the breath she'd been holding, the creature distracted by some other member of the party. She darted down the docks, skidding to a halt and dropping to her knees and trying to pull Erioch out of the water despite the gnashing and thrashing of the monster below.

Bena continued to be an unwilling bit of prey in the Sahagin's grip. She wasn't trying to actually break free now, though - she knew she wasn't physically strong enough to pull that off. She writhed and got her right arm free. She yanked an arrow from her quiver, spinning it around in her fingers before bringing it down into the Sahagin's eye. It howled, throwing Bena away and stumbling back. It fell into a hole one of its fellows made, ending up in the water. Its previous wounds saturated the water, and it was consumed by its frenzied fellows.

Barengar, with no help from the gnashing teeth and swiping claws of the misshapen beasts that frenzied in the water, managed to pull himself up and out of the water. To say that he was glad to be out of the water was an understatement. With a quick roll of his left shoulder he finally pulled his weapon proper free from its place on his back as well as the throwing axe at his side, turning his attention to the massive creature at the fore. He pulled arm back and let it fly at the creature, aiming for whatever appeared to be its face.

Erioch would have let out a sigh of relief at Sokhatai's arm reaching down for him had ocean not threatened to fill his lungs should he do so. Her arm was taken and used to pull the Highlander up and onto the docks, sea-water and blood dripping from his frame as one of the claws raked down his calf. "Thanks, darl-GAH! BASTARD FISH SHITE!" He kicked wildly at the water, a myriad of curses tearing from his throat.

The hulking Sahagin leans backward and lets loose an ear-splitting howl as it finally seems to notice the scent of blood and the sound of battle. It begins a lumbering, crashing charge towards the group both upon the docks and the shore, its eyes swollen shut by whatever is mutating the beast men. The arm with the chain embedded into it swings wide, the anchor sweeping across all those on the shore as it tries to trample those still on the pier. ->

Beneath the waves Neeka has full view of the mad torrent of claws and teeth tearing and biting not only at her but also the two remaining Sahagin each vying for the tasty Neeka-snack.

Adun started charging in the same direction as the creature. As it reeled its anchor to swing, he swung behind it, catching on the balls of his left foot. He then rotated and threw an aspected hook kick at its back, heel sinking into it hard and bursting with fire aether on contact.

Wisps of blue aether swirled around Neeka as she was quickly running out of air, the hand which had sheathed her lance now reaching for a blade kept on her belt. The metal shoved into the creature’s mouth as it attempted another bite before pulled back with as much force as possible under the water. The dragoon frantically looked at her surroundings, finding a rotten wooden pillar to launch herself off of after bursting from the waves, she landed on her feet back on the docks with an extremely pissed off expression.

Asher snapped his attention to the lumbering monstrosity Tarasa warned him up, just in time for eyes to widen and catch sight of the anchor tossed their way. "Fuckin 'el---Shit!" Caught by the hook as it swung by, rust metal crackin against tempered plate, he found himself unbalanced and falling forward to land upon roughly upon knees, held up only by having thrust his arm forward to catch himself.

Tara watched the large creature take a swing and braced herself for the impact that never came. She jumped back a little and fell onto her ass as Eroich took the blow for her and was hurled back down onto the docks. "Eroich!" She somewhat screamed out as she quickly sat back up and began charging a spell.

Sokhatai took a moment to breath for a moment, before she was thrown unceremoniously into the water she'd just pulled her companion out of. She surfaced instantly, sputtering and coughing through the water in her lungs and turning to try and catch sight of Neeka. The crystal shook a moment, brightening before sending a healing waves towards the woman she'd been looking towards.

Benathi blinked as the Sahagin roared, "That's a mighty mother-" She turned and scrambled up the stairs, scooping up her bow and then taking a few more steps away, turning as she took a moment to regain control her of her breathing. Thankfully, the anchor swung harmlessly behind her.

Barengar takes a few steps backward as the massive creature began to press itself forward upon the dock. The last place Barengar wanted to be when fighting an oversized monstrosity was on a damaged, wooden dock perched over a swarm of veritable piranha's. He was glad that he had as the monstrosity’s wide sweep narrowly missed him, though it offered him an opening. The man lunged forward and sank his axehead into the thigh of the lumbering beast.

Erioch’s head whipped around just in time to see the large Sahagin charging towards the group, his body pushing upwards and rushing away from the creature. Just as the anchor swung towards those on the shore, the Highlander pushed himself between Tarasa and the flying metal, the force of the blow sending him toppling back down to the pier. With a small groan the man stood and shook his head, axe at the ready. (5/8 2 armor)

Adun kept light on his feet, making sure to get out of the way of any sort of retaliation the creature made to being attacked. He drove his fist into it once more.

Neeka was greeted to the sight of the hideous monstrosity the Blade’s now found themselves dealing with after she’d landed back on the docks. A groan escaped her lips as she took only a moment to scan the surrounding chaos. She immediately launched the blade in her hand towards the creature, aiming for one of its eyes.

Asher Rukoth looked up at the vile noise that preceded the display of nothing that could be good. Spear and pistol abandoned to the sides, he threw up arms to shield face in time for the acid to spray down against him. What started as a growl at onset of pain that would have transformed into something more if not for the planks cracking and dissolving beneath him to send him plummeting into blue depths.

Tara quickly extended both her arms forward with palms up while her feet took a bracing stance on the wood dock. She quickly muttered a few odd sounding words as a barrier of aether quickly punched forward to become a shield for the incoming goop. A few seconds after the goop began to eat away at the magical barrier an almost Sokh sized icicle shot through what was left of the barrier  to nail the creature in the right shoulder and leave the Roe woman panting for breath.

Sokhatai Mol scrambled out of the water, blindly grabbing at whoever it was pulling her up. She was soaked, and pissed now, latching on to whoever it was and returning the favor with healing. ((Erioch +1)

Bena took a breath and drew her bow back.... Shit, this is a bad position. She saw the giant spit out its acid, and decided she didn't like that that much. She moved to get a clearer shot on the creature, unobstructed by the dock.

Barengar held up the broadside of his axe to his fore, using it as a makeshift shield from the lashing bits of claw and iron that whirled about in front of him. His teeth grit as his jaw clenched, whether the storm before channeling the force behind one of the blows to the weapon into a heavy swing. He was once more aiming for the same section of leg that he had struck before; hacking away (Deal 1 damage).

Erioch dove low as the beast began to spin, his right arm diving between the boards to try and fish for Soks collar. Upon finding purchase, the bartender hauled the Au Ra upwards and free of the ocean, sitting her upon the dock just as he saw Asher fall beneath the waves. "Gods-dammit...really?" (6/8 2 armor)

Sensing the blows landing upon it from all sides, the large beast hunkered down and did its best impression of a dragoon by leaping into the air. Though not nearly able to soar as high as Ishgard's finest, the heavily mutated Sahagin did manage to make it fully ashore, it's bulk crashing down on Benathi and Tarasa before its throat swelled once more. A solid line of red digestive fluid flew from the monster's maw, eroding the dock and any of the Blades standing atop the pier in turn. ->

Beneath the waves, Asher's new swimming partner was eager to become closer to the dragoon and sought to give the man a giant kiss. With teeth. Lots of teeth. It's biting your face.

Adun just kept wailing on it, his strikes lighting up with aether aspected fire each time they connected. Besides going in the water, he's seemed quite apt at staying out of any sort of danger.

The dragoon seemed almost offended at the way the creature took off, eyes narrowing with a growl. A hand moved to pull the spear off her back once more now that she was on land, aether swirling around her legs. She took off skyward, as if to show that monstrosity how it’s -actually- done. With the beast in her sights and it distracted with the other members, Neeka crashed down onto its back, driving her lance in as far as she could.

Asher Rukoth's eyes stung as salt water invaded, though with vision still wide he saw the beastie coming. And as he was fast becoming a one woman guy, he did the only thing appropriate and slammed his fist forward to catch it, only instead of simple punch he plunged arm down its throat to grab hold of vital and rip it free. Blood spread fast in the water around him as he left the floating carcass behind then to breach surface. Grabbing ledge, he hoisted himself up to glare at the monstrosity, hair plastered to face now and armor no longer hissing from acid.

Tarasa went wide eyed for a moment as the hulking creature lept her way. She once again called on the aether for a quick escape as she almost seemed to teleport out of harm's way while leaving another one of her ember bombs that would explode as the creature landed soaking it in flames that thankfully didn't hurt Neeka that was on its back.

Sokhatai Mol was clinging to Erioch still, trying to get her bearing when some of the cast-off acid flew her way. It only made her cling tighter, eyes screwed tighter as she unconsciously directed her own healing energies inward. It was not a pleasant day for her, it seemed.

What was this thing's deal? It tried to land on Benathi! She rolled further inland so that she wouldn't become an Ishgardian flapjack. She came up at a crouch, before tapping an icy blue rune on her bow. Aether saturated her arrowhead before she sent it soaring. The arrow lodged itself into the Sahagin's eye as it thrashed, and the aether that she had channeled burst. Several growths of ice explode from the right side of the Sahagin's face, dripping its mutated blood, whatever color that might be. Combined with Tarasa's bomb, it was probably a very frightening display.

Barengar attempted to pull himself away from the line of caustic fluid that was being poured upon the dock but had no such luck. Large globs of the digestive substance splatter upon his right arm, seeping into some of the rings of his armor. It made short work of the padding below and began to burn upon his skin. The Ala Mhigan growled and lashed his arm out several times in a vain attempt to rid himself of the fluid. With a shake of his head he pulled himself together and followed

Erioch begins to twist and turn as the boards beneath him begin to melt away, somehow surprisingly spared from the acid spat at the Blades. With his hand still fast on Sokhatai's collar, and the Au Ra still clinging to him, it was something of a miracle that the man avoided the glob of spittle raining down upon them. Seeing Sokhatai was not so lucky in avoiding the fluid, the Highlander held blinked for a moment before dunking the Xaela beneath the water to wash off the spume. "There. All clean."

The beast let loose another howl, one that slowly died into nothing more than a whimper as it collapsed in a heap upon the ground. Silence hung over the pier as the waves stilled, the pier creaking and groaning under all the strain it had endured.

"I'm going home now. Neeka, stop being cranky." And with that, Adun and his see through shirt were off.

Sokhatai Mol looked up the moment before she was dunked, spluttering and choking once more on the water she found herself in once more. "So... much..." Sokha coughed, clearing her throat. "Chocobo shite is going into the bar." She was hissing, her silver eyes brightening with fury

Benathi Nightsong took a few breaths, shaking her right hand for some reason. She moved her bow to her back. She rubbed her right wrist as she approached the Blades. "No one's -too- hurt, yeah?"

Tarasa Blaetwyn approached the now dead pile of monster and took a knee while a gloved hand slowly rubbed over the creature's arm. "Quite a fascinating creature." She pulled out a small satchel and laid it out on the ground revealing a few bottles and syringes. She quickly jammed one of the needles deep into the creature and began extracting fluid.

Asher Rukoth ground teeth briefly before he stood upright and brushed hands down arms and shook himself as dry as he could. Working jaw, he already knew the amount of work that had to go into armor and wasn't at all happy...along with the fact that he now needed a trim from where acid caught hair. Moving around the beast, he reclaimed weapons and strode of the flight of stairs to leave. "Makes 'ate the deep sea even more," he said off hand to Tarasa. "An wonder what the fuck else be lurkin down there, an what drove em to frenzy."

Erioch grinned down to the woman, shoulder and calf still dripping crimson to mix with the ocean water flowing from the man. "Hey now, I was jus' aimin' to be washin' all that shite off ya, darlin'. You're welcome." Laughter sounded out from the man as he set the Au Ra down upon the docks. "All jestin' aside, you doin' alright? Everythin' in its proper place an' whatnot?"

Dominique La'fleur hopped off of the creature, taking her weapon with quite the disgusting sound as it came out from the back.  She wrinkled her nose upon noticing Tara with the needles.

Barengar slowly eased his stance as it became clear to him that the creature wasn't going to be lashing out or puking up vile gunk on anyone any further. His attention was quickly pulled to the burning on his arm. He quickly flicked his eyes around for sources of water that were -not- the sea that was full of sahagin.

Tarasa Blaetwyn: "This looks more manmade to me than anything natural, which has peaked my curiosity. Something warped these creatures into what they are now."

Tarasa Blaetwyn filled a syringe and pushed the foul liquid into a vial before grabbing another needle and repeating the process where the spine should be.

Benathi Nightsong flexed the fingers of her right hand before seeming satisfied that her hand was intact. She placed her right hand on her hip, eying the creature, wrinkling her nose at Tarasa's work, before looking to Asher and Neeka, "You guys are okay?"

Sokhatai Mol frowned at him, though her eyes seemed less irritated as she quickly began shaking off the excess water. "Just my wounded pride. But that heals with time."

Dominique La'fleur took a few steps back away from the process while holstering her weapon and offering Benathi a nod.

Tarasa Blaetwyn: "Looks like this was a Sahagin at one point, i'll have to do some more tests back at my study to be sure however."

Asher Rukoth grunted. "Aye, ah'm just fine." Stabbing spear into the dirt, he reached up to free braid and shook fingers through his hair, just barely holding onto the cloth strip that had held it as such moments ago. "Lucky too at the fucker sent me in'tah the water though ah din't fancy gettin wet like 'at."

Barengar Armsbreaker found no alternative that met his criteria, unfortunately and simply began to reach for his waterskin, emptying all that remained within it upon his right arm in an attempt to wash away the caustic fluids.

Erioch Koren couldn't stop himself from ruffling the Au Ra's hair as he began to move up to stairs. "C'mon, kid, I've found that drinkin' heals all manner o' wounded pride, eh?" He stopped before the rest of the Blades examining the beast. "I'm goin' to collect the reward, everyone livin', aye?"

Benathi Nightsong: "As far as I can tell, we're all still in one piece."

Asher Rukoth: "How much was the payout for this shite anyways?"

Dominique La'fleur let out a sigh "Does it matter? It's never enough for the fucked up shite we have to deal with." She waved a hand in the air dismissively before turning on her heel to walk off.

Erioch Koren raised an eyebrow to Asher as he began to make his way back towards civilization. "Enough that we got to takin' the job in the first place. Odile'll get your pay to you 'fore long I'm sure."

Tarasa Blaetwyn finished with her syringe work and began to repack her things. "I'll have to hire someone to bring one of the smaller ones back, I doubt anyone will bother these though."

Asher Rukoth rolled his eyes and loosed scoff. Glancing to Tarasa then, he pursed lips and moved over to one of the less mangled corpses and picked it up to toss over his shoulder. "Where d'ya want it?"

Erioch Koren looked back to Tarasa. "You wantin' to head into town with me then? I ain' lookin' to make any o' you lot haul one o' those swivin' Sahagin back on your own."

Erioch Koren: "Or hells, that'll get to workin' too. Much obliged, Asher."

Barengar Armsbreaker moved once he'd managed to clean himself of enough of the fluids, he made his way up to briefly glance over the fallen beast. Beyond the bizarre nature of its state, Barengar seemed to find it of little real interest.

Benathi Nightsong: "I'd offer, but... I'm not big enough to carry one, and Courier doesn't like the smell of 'em."

Tarasa Blaetwyn blinked as Asher hefted the creature. "Oh, well back at my study at the Company Hall should suffice."

Dominique La'fleur: "Not to worry, the Knight is always happy to oblige." She muttered before walking off out of sight of the group.

Sokhatai Mol waved a hand. "I'll be back in the stables, if anyone wants more patching up. The magical sort, or bandages."

Asher Rukoth wrinkled his nose some at the smell but otherwise looked to be fine with the creature's weight. Giving a nod to Tara, he set off. "Then ah'll be droppin it off there..." Narrowing his eyes, he stared at Neeka and clenched jaw, confused.

Erioch Koren looked over his now-ruined coat, breath huffing out from his lungs. "Might get to takin' you up on that, Sokhatai, after I'm findin' some tailor to be patchin' up this coat."

Sokhatai Mol nodded. "You'll find me in the stables."

Barengar Armsbreaker grunted stiffly before pulling his gaze away from the fallen beast. He tipped his head toward the departing members of the company before preparing to do the same himself. He'd had enough for the day.

Benathi Nightsong turned back, "Yeah, Erioch? What's up?"

[train-whistles-at-night]

lil russ n ferris drabble igggggggggggg

And so with that, they sit on the porch, watching as the sun goes down and everyone comes out to their porches. They watch the little children run and play, whooping and hollaring as the night goes on. Some men smoke, some grill, just just hold beers and tall. Russ is one of the one holding a beer and talking, Ferris, who never saw fit to stand by the men unless it was his own husband, chases around the little ones, making them squeal with laughter as he wiggles his hands going, “im gonna get'cha! Gonna get'cha!” As he does so. He finally catches one, she’s five with her soft curly brown hair in pigtails and her skirt riding up, he’s one of her godfathers, and plants kisses all over her cheeks with exaggerated “mwah! Mwah!” Noises as he smoothed her skirt back down. “I caught'cha!!” And she squeals with giggles and laughter as he carries her back to her mama. He holds her out, looking mighty proud as he says,“ I think this one belongs to you, ma'am!” And of course she graciously accepts back her child, petting down her curly hair and smiling as sh thanks him. He says it wasn’t a problem at all, and that dinner is now getting close and the men have almost finished their grilling, so he best help finish rounding up the rest of the little ones. So she let’s him on his way, and he spots another little one and goes off to chase him. This one is named Chase, and he’s three, and when he’s caught he’s more fussy, but its nothing Ferris can’t handle as he still smooches his cheek and hands him off to his respective parent. He catches twins next and they’re both five, he can’t pick them both up, so he holds their hands as he leads them back and they tell him about the story they’d been making up before they were caught. And Ferris listens like its the most important thing in the world that day because he knows it is to them. He trades them off to their parents, and they set off to telling their story again like they hadn’t just finished telling Ferris, and Ferris laughs at how little ones have so much air in those tiny lungs! He finally finds his way back to his husband, who is still talking about this or that with some other boys he does with regularly, Greg (a long time friend) and Donnie (who Ferris knows less about, but he’s a nice guy so Ferris is civil with him). He leans against Russ’ arm as he stands. “Hello y'all two, hello Greg.” He nods at him and Greg nods back. “Ferris. What'chall got planned tonight, if it’s my place to ask.” Ferris hums, “not much as far as I know after alla this, unless Russ has something planned, do ya hun?” Russ shakes head no. “Nope, not that I can think of. We’ll probably just hang out, your free to stop by if y'all want.” He gestures vaguely and Greg and Donnie with his hand holding the beer he’s been nursing not of the afternoon. Greg chuckles, “best not, Ferris here looks like he’s about to pass out!” That sets them all into chuckles and Ferris waves it off. “No no,” he says with a lazy grin, “just winded from catching all the little ones, haha.” Donnie shakes his head. “I always say to my Michelle that y'all two would make great parents if you ever wanted." He says. Ferris simply smiles and shakes his head. "Donnie, honey," says Ferris, always calling people Southern Endearments, "You  haven't known us that long, how could you now if we'd be good parents?" Ferris responds in jest, laughing as he does so. He sighs after a second, "Nonetheless, maybe someday we'll be parents. But not yet, we still got so much to do first before either of us would be comfortable starting a family, I'd think." Russ nods in agreement, letting Ferris talk. Ferris always was a talker. "Well still, if y'all ever decide you wanna be, I think you'd make great parents." Ferris hums with a smile in response, and lets Russ get the conversation back onto where they were previously. After a small bit, some of the wives call out about supper being ready, and Ferris gently pulls Russ away to get some food before he gets cranky later from being hungry. They eat dinner with the others, complimenting the grilled goods and dressings and outfits and such. Ferris points out how he particularly loves Lindsay's shirt, and she thanks him and mentions how she got it at the Target not too far out of town. So they eat and compliment and the hosts thank them for coming when they mention how they really should get going, because Ferris feels so tired. Russ drives them home in Ferris' car. They pull into their driveway about ten minutes later and Russ, feeling particularly love-y honestly, kinda bad for him, picks Ferris up and carries him inside with ease since Ferris is so small and light compared to him. He carries him to bed, helping him pull off his shoes and shirt and pants. He kisses his cheek as he covers him up and begins to pull off his own clothes. Once he's done so, he stretches, listening to his bones pop and feeling his muscles relax. He turns on the fan and gets into bed with his husband, pulling him close and laughing at his tired mumbles. He shushes him quietly, petting his hair as he kisses his forehead. "Come on hun, shh, jus' go to sleep. It can always wait till the morning, don't worry." Ferris mumbles a tired 'okay' and relaxes, letting himself drift off. And not much later, Russ does the same.

[singingbun]

Illyrian Mischief chapter 8 part 2

Prologue | Ch1 part 1 / part 2 | Ch 2 part 1 / part 2 | Ch 3 part 1 / part 2 / part 3 | Ch 4 part 1 / part 2 / part 3 | Ch 5 part 1 / part 2 | Ch 6 part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 | Act 2 Prologue II | Ch 7 part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 | Ch 8 part 1 / part 2 | AO3 link

As I was writing this, I realize that perhaps it might be best to not add this to the sherlolly tag. should I add this to the sherlolly tag? because as far as this fic is going, there is and will be sherlolly elements into it. But the ship is not an emphasis as I have become more enamored in writing the plot and sprinkling the sherlolly essences here and there. But this chapter, right here seems to me that no sherlock is in sight so far.

Anyway. Enjoy the breadcrumbs!

Holding a jug of water that had been sitting on the desk, she held it by the handle and poured some of its contents into the basin adjacent to it. As she placed a flannel into the basin, she then added; “Now that we are on the subject, who are you? And what on earth were you doing outside of our window?”

“…Name’s Hart,” he scowled as he answered. “And let’s just leave at that. If you’re asking me how I came into this state, blame that bugger over there.” –He pointed at Toby, who now popped its head out at the edge of the wicker basket- “The bloody cat refuses to cooperate.”

She frowned as she mangled the flannel in her hands to squeeze the water out of it.

“If you ask me, I think you deserve plenty of it after your miserable attempt at breaking and entering,” she said as she began cleaning his wounds off his shoulder. “So you admit that you were trying to steal something that solely belongs to this household.”

“If you’re insinuating that I was trying to nick a few of those books, you’re a long way off,” he retorted. “I was trying to get ‘im over there,” –he gestured at the feline once more- “but that hairball climbed its way out to the top of the roof. So I did what any cat snatcher would do and followed the beast up to the roof. When I caught the bloody thing, it clawed right at me on my shoulder. And as if it wasn’t satisfied enough, it scratched my bloody arm. Before I knew it, I came tumbling down after my foot slipped off the tile. I don’t know how long I was sitting there for, but next thing I knew, you showed up.”

Upon hearing his short tale, she couldn’t help but stifled her laughter.

“It’s not funny,” the man grumpily added. “I was two steps away into oblivion! And by the way, in case you’re still not convinced, I’ll tell you that I didn’t even realize I was scaling up the walls to Mr Porter’s roof.”

She scoffed at his last comment, “either way, serves you right. I’ll have you know that there is no merit in taking this cat as hostage. This household barely manages to keep the maid, let alone pay for a hansom sum of money.”

“If you must know, lad. That cat belongs to a certain lord named Bailey. Now Lord Bailey’s son, Tomson Bailey was willing to offer a large sum for whoever catches this cat and have it returned to its rightful owner.”

Her hand ceased its movement and looked at him. “You jest,” she said.

“No lad, I’m plenty serious about this.”

“You mean to say that this cat,” she pointed at Toby. “Is owned by a noble? That doesn’t make any sense at all! How could a noble lord lose his cat and find its way here?”

“Nothing ever makes sense if you’ve seen the things I’ve seen,” he murmured. “Look here lad, if there was anything that makes more sense to me. It’s me finding out that Mr Porter has a younger brother who shares the same face as ‘im.”

“How would you know this is the same cat that Lord Bailey was looking for?” she asked, soaking the flannel once more into the basin to wash away the blood. After mangling it once more, she wiped away the remaining scarlet stains on his shoulder. There she could see the claw marks that had penetrated deep into his skin. “Better still, are you sure you haven’t mistaken it for another?”

The man pulled out a printing press poster with an illustration of a cat that solely resembled Toby.

“Oh.”

“There’s no mistake of it,” he rambled on. “He’s got the eyes, the same type, and the same brown patches here and there. Unless my eyes have failed me, that thing over there is most definitely Lord Bailey’s. The better question I ought to ask; why is a noble’s cat living in a household of one of the wittiest crooks of London?”

“A crook?” she rested the back of her hand on her hip. “And what kind of trade was my brother involved in to earn such a title?”

Hart then kept a tight lip, lowering his head at her question.

“I don’t know which one is worse,” the man sighed despairingly. “To answer to the police and risk my neck or to have my name or his name sullied even further.”

“Either way, you’re finished if honour is all that you care about,” she said harshly. “You would might as well tell me as reparation for my treatment on your wounds.”

The man made a grave look on his face, woefully shaking his head once more.

“Are you sure ‘bout this lad?” he asked warily. “Once you hear of it, not only is your brother’s honour tarnished before his youngest of kin, but you can’t unlearn when you hear of it.”

She then slopped the flannel back to the basin as she answered sharply; “Hang his honour! All that I wanted to know was why he had to die. If this secret trade of his has something to do with it, then all the more reason to know.”

The man took a deep breath and sighed and murmured; “It seems to be a family trait to have such a temper.”

Molly then concocted a remedy for his wounds into a small bowl, which she then applied directly onto his wounds with the use of a small, horse-hair paintbrush. One dab of it onto his wound, he hissed sharply, gritting his teeth as she continued to dab the remedy on his skin.

“I don’t know the details of Mr Porter’s line of work,” began Hart as he continued to grit his teeth at the clear sting of pain he was receiving. “But there was something about him when he came in strolling within our streets. Whenever he shows up, you know that there’s a lot that’s demanded from you. He drops a shilling or two for the urchins, a pound for us petty thieves. At times, he would provide us a layout of the buildings he’d want us to burgle. And sometimes, he would partake in our operations. You see, I may be at burglar, but as you see me here, I’m rubbish at it. Your brother, on the other hand, he was clearly a master at his craft.

“Better still,” he continued.  “He knows how to mingle into any particular setting like a chameleon. One moment he was a guardsmen; a moment later, he was a page boy. It was as if he mastered the art of deceit. At first, everyone who knew him thought he were a rude sly and a conniving man like his craft. He has your temper, yes, but he was a man who knew how to please a crowd.”

[somedaypast-thesunset]

I'm pretty proud of myself today. It's easy to feel like you're doing better when there's no imminent problem - it's coping with those problems that really define "doing better". Today I did better.

I was really upset I didn't get my deposit from welfare and I had alot of negative thoughts like I don't deserve this money anywYs and I should just struggle because it's a hand out but like that's not really okay and even if other people think that they're not stealing food to eat? I live a secondary very poverty filled life. I keep up an act of being healthy or not hungry or not in need. I put an effort into how I look even if I can't really afford to all the time because your less likely to receive help the more you look like you need help.

But this is my honest true life and I actually appreciate my friend seeing through my jokes about it and responding in a moderately serious manner and relating to my plight. It helped set a better honest reality between us as well.

So I cried about it and was frustrated. I wanted to get more overdraft but it's shameful I'm in overdraft already and I shouldn't need to anyways. They wouldn't do it over the phone. I decided to get dressed and take pictures. Then I went to the square and worked on my laptop for an hour before it died and I went home. But then a few hours later, after eating lunch, I went to the library and continued to work on my shop before going home again.

I got frustrated around 5 - still no money and it's been six fucking days. Four business days. Crazy. It's a direct deposit. I went to the bank and asked about it - they had no answer. I asked about overdraft and I had like an awkward meeting with I suppose my financial guy. He d3cidrd to apply for a credit card like its somehow any better but then forged the hell out of the application and I left but wow the insane lies he put that are not remotely what my life is.like he created a fantasy life on paper that is just lies. I did not realize until I walked away because I did not tell him anything of this nature so wow.

Then I saw a friend who offered more cash which I felt realllllllly shitty for because she's given me 140$ in like a week. Literally. And I can only hope she doesn't put that together cuz wow that's not good. But I didn't ask her for anything but 50 so it's less bad but not good. Not proud. I am trying though. This is the most amount of trying I've done and like I want to just be better but it's a process and I'm really learning to accept the process of getting better. It really is like daily hourly thing and I'm being mindful to take it easy because I can't do it all. Im not even ready to. But I am ready to let go of my past and my tragedy. Here's a fun tinder fact: no matter how long u talk to a person, no matter what topic if youbmention dead parents the convo almost always stops. I am literally being myself. I have no I'll will or anything like I'm being friendly and socializing and being interested in the people of the world and as soon as that drops, it's like a r3cord scratch, everyone leaves. Like am I lying? Do they think I'm making it up? Is it too heavy? Man, ppl casually drop oh I'm having dinner at mybmoms or fishing with dad but I can't even say they don't exist.

This is not a me problem. That's their problem and I'm not mad about it but it's something to know. I have to ignore this to maintain regular conversation and that sucks but I have to adapt.

I'm becoming independent from him and it's great not to be tied up emotionally in him. I love him and it's not over but I really don't care right now. I am working on me. He said today in jest that I didn't call him back like I said I would a few hours before. I didn't realize he even cared. He doesn't really but he does. He mentioned not getting a desperation text yesterday I guess because he called and I didn't actually call back. He knows I'm on tinder as well and I'm sincerely not even going to meet anyone in person but it's really harmless. I think he knows this but obviously feels some ways.

To be honest I'm not sure how to be a better partner right now. I include him in my happenings for the most part and I maintain interest in his life but he's not here and I'm honestly getting bored. Hopefully as I get better I'll find more things to occupy my time. Like if I keep trying and working on myself it'll just come to my life because it's apart of getting better. Maybe I'll paint. The mandolin was really good even if I play3d it 5 times. That really saved me and like gave me one iota of who I am. I am a wake up and do a thing person. I make it happen. And I showed myself that I could get a mandolin and play it to some d3gree. I made music with it. Very well invested 17$ to lay on the floor and play bad mandolin.

So I can do this. And maybe progress and gettingbbeter sometimes is boring. That's what makes it unappealing to the depressed. It's not super fun all the time. It's not instant happy.

I have no plans for tomorrow. I really want my bike back from my not great friends house but she's far and sucks. I don't want to hang out with her. I don't have a ton of options and I mostly hangout with her for free weed now. Not because I really want to see her. Doesn't help the boredom problem.

I do have some money and I hope my other money comes in because I'm scared to spend this now. Actually it's okay because I've spent some and can't afford easy weed. I think I'll survive with the small amounts I gather and if I do go to her house for free weed I really need to ride my bike home so maybe I won't go unless I do that but weed isn't known for its activity.

Atleast I'll have reason to go out and eat. Maybe grocery store for cat food. New pens for my journal. I wish I had my bike to go the other way even though it's probably the same distance as the normal walk. I could get better pens.

Whatever. If I wake up and get dressed it'll be great. I'm trying to take a picture a day which is easy and builds confidence and explores my early creative life passions again. I used to take great self portraits. I want to do that again but my phone really sucks. I still used to make do anyways. I'm trying to do my makeup with effort even though it's cheap shitty makeup. I look okay though. I'm not trying to hide anything but it's like putting on a mask and helps me pretend like I'm apart of the hustle too.

I do miss him.