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masterweaverx · 4 years ago

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Pit Stop

"So you hear about that Ruby transmission?"

Cinnamon chuckled. "It's all anybody's talking about," she said as she handed a plate to him. "We only get spotty transmission out here, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but... still." The customer laughed a little awkwardly. "Atlas being under attack, magic being real, this... Salem person... It's a lot."

Cinnamon nodded, looking around the pub. It wasn't anything too fancy, they were just a village after all, but it was an informal gathering spot for both the villagers themselves and travelers just passing through. Some tables had people clustered around them, while others had but a single customer apiece; it wouldn't have been anything unusual if it weren't for the hushed murmurings and occasional glances northward.

"Well, it's only been about a day, right?" Cinnamon reassured the man. "They're probably still holding out up there."

"...right." The man took his fork and began poking at the food in front of him.

Cinnamon sighed, heading back behind the counter. It was a slow day... which, given what that Ruby girl had said, was only to be expected. The casual vibe of the pub didn't really gel with the tension in the air; even the stress drinkers had just dropped by, bought a bottle or two, and walked out. She could see some of her customers eyeing the kegs.

Just scrub the glasses, she told herself. Scrub the glasses and look calm and relaxed. She wasn't a huntress, but damned if she didn't know the importance of image in keeping negativity down...

They'd get updates, eventually. Probably from some force heading up from Vale. Or... maybe, if things were really horrible, from some Atlesian refugees. No matter what, it would take a few days.

She couldn't help worrying, of course, who wouldn't be worried, but it wasn't like she could make time move faster. It had only been a day, after all.

There was a strange sound from outside, an oddly growling hiss. For a moment Cinnamon gripped her cleaning rag tighter. There would have been shouts from the lookouts if Grimm were approaching, right? Unless they'd been so rattled by the transmission that they forgot to--

--no. Even with that message, they wouldn't have abandoned their posts. They didn't during the fall of Beacon, after all.

"Somebody's just messing with burn Dust," she suggested casually, to nobody in particular. "Probably just a few teens... hopped up on bravery and wanting to go fight monsters in Atlas, you know?"

There were a few chuckles, but they were strained. The sort that were made by obligation--

One of the customers, leaning to peer out a window, jumped back with a yelp. "It's--! There's a Grimm woman!" he gasped. "It's gotta be Salem!"

Another customer rolled her eyes with a nervous chuckle. "Okay, you've probably had a bit too much to drink--"

Twinkli-linki-link...

Cinnamon looked at the door as it swung open, and her breath caught in her throat. The figure that practically glided in was breathtaking, in the same way a Sea Feilong was; tall, elegant, pristine, and as clearly capable of slaughter as any Grimm she could name. Her black dress, lined with red, certainly made her look like one; it was a resemblance only furthered by her bone-white hair and skin. Purplish veins crawled up her arms and under her sleeves, reemerging round her neck to frame a pair of dark eyes--utterly black, save for the rings of red that ross from their shadowy depths.

One hand was wrapped around an ornate golden staff, which was capped with a blue gem. The other, bearing a ring that resembled nothing so much as a beetle, gestured around the room surprisingly gently.

"I see you have a table available."

It took Cinnamon a couple of seconds to process that. She looked to see that, yes, there was an empty table--there were quite a few, in fact. "Ah... so I do," she replied, voice quavering.

"I believe we will take it. If you would be so kind...?"

Cinnamon put down her glass, quickly reemerging from the bar. "Right this way, ma'am," she said automatically.

The tall woman walked past her, and only then did Cinnamon register the second woman following behind her. The gold-embroidered black garb she wore was short but elegant, much like the hair covering her eyepatch. In fact, she almost looked like a freshly graduated huntress; if it weren't for the fact her left arm consisted of Grimm flesh and the way her amber eye produced literal fire, Cinnamon wouldn't have any idea why she'd be smugly trailing after the bone-white woman.

She shared a nervous look with one of the customers, flicking her eyes toward the door. The man's eyes widened, and he nodded subtly, casually walking out as the new pair seated themselves.

"...So." Cinnamon said, forcing her fear out of her voice. "What will it be?"

"Oh, nothing too much," the pale woman assured her. "A small meal will suffice."

The younger woman frowned for a moment, but nodded. "Perhaps... do you have fish and chips?" she asked.

Cinnamon almost said no, out of habit, but cut herself off. "We... have a salmon soup," she offered hesitantly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the other customers quietly filing out.

"Hmm." The younger woman shakes her head. "I'd prefer something more... solid."

"Would a chicken sandwich do the trick?" Cinnamon offered.

The younger woman nodded. "I think it would, actually."

"And..." Cinnamon turned to the beautiful violation of all she had ever thought she'd known. "What will it be for you, ma'am?"

The Grimm woman smiled wryly. "I don't suppose you serve the souls of the innocent here."

"No ma'am. Innocence is a rare commodity these days."

The younger woman actually smirked at that. "Isn't it though."

"Well... perhaps I shall have the salmon soup," the woman offered.

"Of course." Cinnamon took a quick look around the pub; it was almost empty now, save for one horrified customer staring at the scene. She turned back to the pair. "It might be a minute."

"We have all the time in the world."

Cinnamon nodded, heading around the bar. "Get out of here," she hissed to the last customer as she passed.

"You're just serving them--?"

"The longer they're here the longer you have to get to Vale, now move!"

The customer blinked twice, before her eyes widened. She vacated her table with haste, rushing out the door.

"I'm beginning to think the locals don't like us," the younger woman noted calmly.

Shit.

"Ah, it's nothing too much," Cinnamon assured her as she went behind the counter. "Just a bit nervous about celebrities visiting our little village."

"Celebrities?"

Cinnamon very carefully put the pot of soup on the stove, stirring it slowly. "You didn't catch the transmission?"

"Ah," said the bone-white woman. "So, Ruby Rose's message did reach the outside world."

"Whole world, if I heard right." Cinnamon set aside a plate, carefully putting together a sandwich.

"Wait, what transmission?" The young woman looked from Cinnamon to the other. "Was that what Penny was doing with Amity?"

"It was," the bone-white woman replied. "If I recall, you were unconscious at the time."

The younger woman stiffened... and then bowed her head. "I... yes, master. I made an error in judgment."

"Mmm..." The bone-white woman put a hand on her shoulder. "Not all lessons can be taught gently, Cinder."

Cinnamon checked the soup, subtly activating the recording function on her scroll. "So, yeah. What happened after that anyway?"

The bone-white woman gave her a coy smile. "Now, why do you ask that?"

"I'm just a small village chef," Cinnamon replied, pouring the soup into a bowl. "Can't help but be curious about the outside world."

The younger woman--Cinder--examined her Grimm nails. "It was a very busy day in Atlas, honestly."

Cinnamon assembled the sandwich, taking the bowl and plate out to her customers. "I guess it'd have to be. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"I suppose I wouldn't mind a glass of wine," the bone-white woman allowed.

"Just water for me," Cinder added.

"Of course." Cinnamon prepared the drinks, surreptitiously looking out the window. Entire families were loading up tightly in the delivery trucks, rolling out through the gates--

"Is something going on out there?"

"Farmers headed out to bale hay," Cinnamon lied smoothly. "Big deal for us small-town folk."

Cinder gave her a look as she put the glasses down. Cinnamon shrugged, retreating behind the counter.

For a minute or two, the only sounds came from Cinder and the other woman quietly eating. She could see how much Cinder savored every bite. And... the other one, she did seem to enjoy the wine, if the way her eyebrow quirked was anything to go by.

"...Three questions."

Cinnamon looked up, keeping a mask of calm even as her heart pounded.

"You have been an excellent host," the bone-white woman continued, "and you reek of fear. So. Three questions."

"Ah." Cinnamon glanced at her hidden scroll, still recording the entire conversation. "How's Atlas doing, you reckon?"

"Oh, it's flooded," Cinder replied casually. "Entire city."

Cinnamon blinked at her, almost opening her mouth--but, no, three questions. Atlas, flooded... well, it was a floating rock, for one. How could they get water up there? Even with a magic rainstorm... no, it didn't make sense. A city in the sky couldn't...

...unless...

Cinnamon swallowed carefully. "I see... what happened to the survivors?"

Cinder frowned, biting into her sandwich aggressively.

"Apparently miss Rose came up with a scheme to get them all to Vacuo," the bone-white woman replied, sipping at her soup. "Which, of course, means I'll be meeting them again fairly soon."

Her smile was far too soft for such a threat. It almost looked motherly, in a way.

Cinnamon felt her heart beating. She glanced out the window again. She couldn't see anybody.

"...How am I going to die?"

The bone-white woman turned to her, then. "Now that is certainly an interesting question. Especially as I don't have an answer. What do you think, Cinder?"

Cinder finished her sandwich, taking a long draft from her glass.

"I think she has options," she said eventually. "We could lock her in this building, weld the doors shut so she can't escape with the rest of her village. I could burn her to death, or freeze her. You could summon any number of Grimm, or even use magic."

"We might do nothing at all," the other woman mused. "Let nature take its course."

"...we could take her with us," Cinder offered. "Hazel was our primary chef, before... well, before."

The bone-white woman quirked a brow. "And how would we carry her?"

Cinder glanced at the staff. "We're not using that for anything right now. An airship would be easy."

The bone-white woman considered this. Cinnamon felt her hands trembling.

"...I will prepare the airship," the woman finally said, standing up. "You will help our new... associate gather what she needs."

Cinnamon flinched as Cinder stood up, quickly ending the recording and sending it out on broadcast. "I, uh, I'm... it might take me a few tries to get your food like you like it--"

The bone-white woman smiled at her. "Oh, don't worry. I have all the time in the world."

#RWBY #Fanfiction #One Shot #Pit Stop #Salem #Cinder Fall

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bngtanah · 5 years ago

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I'm (not) With The Band. | Prologue

summary: Adrienne is an indie producer who is hired to help co-produce BTS’ next album alongside their resident producer; Suga. Despite the initial opposition on both ends, the pair spend time together, share a few stories, dreams and aspirations and begin to hit it off really well. Wrapped up in the whirlwind of late nights and heated disagreements and reconciliations, Min Yoongi and Adrienne Rolle find themselves growing closer and closer. One night they decide to cross the barrier between personal and professional and do their best make a relationship work against all odds.

pairing: Min Yoongi x Named OC

genre: drama, romance, smut

chapters: prologue| o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11|

warning: light angst, smut, fluff, workplace relationship, slow burn, sexual themes, ambw, enemies to friends to lovers, developing relationship

a/n: still a fool. still re-uploading.

"It's good money, Adrienne."

Adrienne rolled her eyes quickly underneath her eyelids and switched her attention away from the woman sitting next to her.

"I get that but there is no way I'm moving to Korea, I can't even find Korea on a map!"

Adrienne and her older sister had been having this roundabout conversation for at least an hour and a half with no end in sight since neither side seemed interested in giving in.

"So what are you going to do? Just stick around here and make amazing songs for shitty rappers and musicians that don't wanna pay you?" Danielle's voice was monotone and completely lacking any tangible emotion but Adrienne could understand that this was her sister's way of trying to appeal to her common sense. "An opportunity like this doesn't knock twice, little one."

Adrienne bit back a witty remark because despite how much she didn't want to admit it she knew that her sister was right. She was barely making ends meet with the seedy pool of customers she had now and the select few that actually paid her on time only wanted to shell out pennies for what Adrienne considered high-quality work. There were times over the past few months when the money wasn't coming in and reactions from her clientele had her seriously doubting her talent that Adrienne genuinely regretted not going to college. There was no a guarantee that she would have been any better off than she was now but the constant 'what if' always made her second guess her choices when things weren't going her way. Her life now wasn't perfect but it was comfortable, she rented an efficiency from one of her sister's friends and worked a few odd jobs here and there to keep up with the bills. It was a simple life that she enjoyed and Adrienne wasn't so sure she had the courage to give it up.

"Alright, let's say I go for it" Adrienne stated in a softer voice.

"What happens if I can't keep up or they hate all my songs or they hate me? I wouldn't be able to come back here as a failure and honestly, Dani I don't know if I have what it takes to do this." Her voice wavered with raw insecurity as she nervously she began pulling on the ends of one of her long braids.

If Adrienne was being honest with herself, her own self-doubts were the main obstacle holding her back from just accepting this job. She was reasonably excited about the thought of moving to a different country and Danielle; who was married and expecting a child of her own, was the only family she had left. It was time for her to stop depending on her for so much and start carving out her own place in the world.

"Do you really think they would have contacted you if they didn't think you were more than good enough?"

"To be honest, I don't know why they reached out to me in the first place. All the music on my SoundCloud is in English and I've never heard of this company before they emailed me."

"Because it's good, dumb-dumb!" Danielle exclaimed while tugging on one of her sister's braids. "What's the name of these people again, you know I have to google," She asked with her phone already in hand.

"BigHit, I already looked them up. It's legit"

Danielle nodded but dismissed Adrienne's statement with a flick of her wrist, she needed to research everything for herself if she was going to send her baby sister off to some strange company for a job that may not even be real.

"Seriously, Dani I've looked it up they are an actual music company" Adrienne leaned forward to snatch the phone out of her hands, "They told me that if I decide to work with them I'd be working with a boyband called BTS."

"Boyband? Those still exist?"

"Yes! I was so confused at first but they're the real deal...which is another reason I don't want to go. I've been researching their songs from last year and the year before that and I don't know who's doing their music now but it's really good. Here, listen to this-"

Adrienne tossed her sister's phone back onto the couch and pulled her laptop off the coffee table and onto her lap, "It's all in Korean so ignore the words and just pay attention to the melody like I did" she informed as she pulled up 'Let Me Know', one of the recent tracks she'd been replaying.

Her eyes fell closed gently once she hit play and the first note rang out and Adrienne allowed herself to become lost in the music once again, she couldn't understand the lyrics but even without knowing the language Adrienne knew too well the feeling of heartache and desperation this song was meant to make you feel. That was always something she appreciated about music, no matter where you were from or how old you were a good song could bring people together in ways that words often couldn't. To Adrienne music truly was a universal language.

Once the song finished Adrienne put her laptop aside and looked up at her sister with a childlike stare, anticipating her reaction. "What? It's pretty" Danielle responded and Adrienne's shoulders immediately slumped downward.

"Pretty? Is that all you have to say?"

"Yup. That's my review, it is a pretty song."

"You sicken me, do you know that? If you weren't carrying my niece we would be pillow fighting right now." Adrienne grumbled and leaned down to pressed a kiss to Danielle's rounded tummy. She wasn't big yet but she was definitely beginning to show.

"I keep telling you not to get your hopes up, Lloyd's siblings are all boys."

Adrienne pursed her lips and ignored Danielle then whispered to her stomach. "Shhh, I can tell you're a girl."

"Stop talking to my fetus and get back up here, I'm not joking with you Andy I really think you should go for this job"

Adrienne bit the inside of cheek and slumped back against the cushions, she was silent for a few minutes as she tried to collect her thoughts and recall all the points that were made in their previous conversation.

"How am I supposed to fly half way around the world and tell these people that I can make better music than what they have now?"

Danielle sighed, her fingertips grazing over Adrienne's shoulder to gain her attention before pulling her into her arms to hug her and rest her chin against the top of Adrienne's head.

"Do you think you're talented?"

"Yes....but-"

"Butts are for ashtrays, Adrienne. You are talented and that's the end of it, when you worry too much about comparing yourself to other people then you start in with the doubts. You didn't go to them they came to you, that wouldn't have happened if they didn't know that you were more than qualified for this."

"I don't want to leave you."

"Oh little one," Danielle cooed and kissed Adrienne's scalp, threading her fingers through the younger girls braids, "I am going to be fine, I have Lloyd! And you're going to be making so many new friends you won't even have time to miss me."

Adrienne sniffed and wrapped her arms around her sister in a tighter hold, "You better not have this kid until I can come back and visit" She replied through the few tears that were falling from the brim of her eyes.

"Does that mean you're going?"

"I guess I'm moving to Korea."

"This isn't a joke, right? There aren't any hidden cameras, you're really going to let me do this?"

The excitement in Yoongi's voice was as foreign and authentic as the short happy dance he did in the middle of Bang Si-Hyuk's office before he caught hold of himself and regained his cool composure.

"Yes I'm being serious" Si-Hyuk answered with a tiny grin "You've been showing a lot of improvement lately and I think you should take the lead on producing the group's next release."

Pale pink lips spread into a wide and almost child-like grin, those were words that Yoongi never thought he would hear. He always appreciated being able to contribute a song or two to their albums but to have the control and relative creative freedom over an entire body of work for his group was a professional goal that he never thought possible so early in his career. It really was too good to be true.

"Of course..." Si-Hyuk spoke up again and Yoongi came crashing back down to reality.

"With your schedules and other responsibilities, it wouldn't be ideal to leave all the work on your shoulders alone."

"I assumed the producers here would be assisting me"

"Most of them are busy with other projects, we've decided to contract someone from the outside to co-produce along with you."

Yoongi nodded and leaned back in his seat, pressing his index finger against his lips in thought and to prevent himself from speaking out of turn. He didn't like this idea one bit and the previous feeling of excitement he had was dulled significantly by the thought of having to collaborate with someone he didn't even know. He wanted to speak up, voice his opposition before he was saddled with the dead weight of a co-producer who probably had no idea what they were doing. But he knew it wasn't his place to say no to a plan that was already in motion and he didn't want to jeopardize the opportunity he was being granted.

"Okay, when do we start?"

#min yoongi #suga fic #suga scenarios #suga angst #suga smut #bts x woc #bts scenarios #inwtb #bngtanah

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andrea-lyn · 6 years ago

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Dunno if I’m doing this right but, a malex prompt: Michael did go to UNM but lost Alex the same way. Ten years later, they meet again in Roswell.

After Rosa dies and Michael takes the blame for it, he sees the way Isobel looks at him. Guilt and sympathy and a bundle of other emotions that he’s not sure he can deal with, and it never stops. “I can’t stay,” he tells Max one night, even though things are tense between them, on the cusp of Rosa’s funeral. “I can’t take the way she looks at me, Max.”

“Isobel needs us,” Max says sharply.

“If I stay, I’m gonna end up telling her,” Michael admits, and as bad as it’ll be to abandon Isobel and Max in the middle of this, he knows if he stays and Isobel finds out, it’ll be so much worse. “She’s got you. You’re the ones with the connection and maybe for a little while, it’s better if I get out of here, before I break and tell her what happened. I’m not saying I’m going forever, but I can’t stay.”

Max doesn’t look like he has the energy or the argument to convince him otherwise. He’s giving up his dream to go travel, but then, he didn’t decide to cover up a murder and earn his sister’s crushing sympathy for it.

“It’s not the first time you two were on your own. You were fine last time, too,” Michael says, trying to ignore every stinging pain that says that they don’t need him. “I’ll go to UNM,” he shrugs. “That way, I can come back every once in a while to visit. It’s a good cover, but it gives me the space I need.”

“Michael…”

“This isn’t a reward,” he guarantees, lest Max think that somehow Michael is giving himself an out. Alex is gone, Isobel thinks he killed those girls, and Max will barely look at him. There’s nothing in him for Roswell and at least if he goes to school, he might actually be good at something.

Max still looks like he isn’t convinced.

“You better come back.”

“Four years, maximum,” he vows.

He keeps true to his promise, even if he doesn’t exactly follow the normal course most students do. Four years later, he hasn’t taken a semester off and he’s loaded up on extra classes, taking night ones in addition. For all that he could have a social life, he ignores it to throw himself into school because he discovers that equations, like music, can quiet his mind.

Three years later, Michael Guerin returns to Roswell with a PhD in astrophysics and his engineers’ ring for mechanical engineering (dabbling in chemical because he needs the challenge). For a while, he teaches at the high school and moonlights at the junkyard, but then he starts hearing whispers that the government’s secretly looking into aliens through an unauthorized project.

That’s when Michael decides that “hold your enemies closer” is sound advice and puts in a job application when they start hiring science geeks.

He’s been consulting with the Air Force for two years now, with only one solid rule. He avoids Jesse Manes at all costs, even though it’s been almost ten years since the incident in the tool shed.

He’s not sure he could avoid being arrested if he’s within four feet of the man, because his fucked up hand speaks of a lot of history, but Alex Manes’ absence from Roswell tells the rest of that story. Michael knows that Alex hadn’t decided to leave all on his own, that Jesse was the little angel and devil on his shoulder for that conversation.

Alex has been in his head a lot, lately. With Isobel talking non-stop about the ten year reunion (and Michael is just so glad that she’ll speak to him, that she looks at him and he doesn’t see sympathy in her eyes anymore), Michael can’t stop thinking about Alex.

It’s practically fate, then, what happens when he shows up to Foster Ranch to work, a few days before the reunion.

They’ve been setting up for a few tests while they work to get zoning permission on the new facility and they want Michael testing the ground and the area and he takes special notice in the tests that are being ordered by Master Sergeant Manes, looking for strange materials in the earth.

He’ll swap out the test results for some fake ones, keep the real specimens, but even now he feels smugly right that he’d made the right call taking this job. At least, he feels pretty good until he sees some of the new guys in Roswell hovering around his trailer.

The one rule of a site - stay away from Doctor Guerin’s shit, or get what’s coming to you.

“Hey!” he snaps, annoyed that a new bunch of recruits are traipsing around on his territory. He gives the CO an annoyed look, but he shrugs as if he can’t be held accountable for what these kids do, which means Michael needs to deal with this himself. “That’s my lab, you’re going to contaminate the…”

He yanks at the soldier’s arm, but when he turns him around, it’s Alex Manes.

Shit.

“Alex…”

They stare at each other for a long time. He knows all about Alex’s accident, knows about the IED, knows about his leg. He’d managed to get the reports with his clearance and while he’d begged for an assignment that brought him over there, they’d kept him here in Roswell to clear the land for their new facility, citing his desire to be close to family.

It figures that would bite him in the ass when he’d wanted to go after the only other family that mattered.

“This is yours?” Alex asks, pointing to the trailer.

“I mean, it belongs to the good ol’ US government,” Michael says, leaning forward to open the door so he can reveal the lab inside. He’s running the tests they’ve been asking for (chem tests, soil tests, and helping to plan the site), but he’s also using the opportunity to sneak in at night and get pieces off Foster Ranch.

It’s all kinds of win-win-win here.

“I didn’t know you’d be here today,” Alex admits. “I heard you were working with us…”

“Yeah?” Michael has had countless fantasies about what it’d be like to run into Alex again, but standing on a work site surrounded by coworkers hadn’t been in the list. He thinks that the CO would get a little pissed off if Michael backed Alex against the trailer and made out with him for the next forty minutes. “High school physics got boring, plus the job at the junkyard doesn’t exactly pay very well.”

He doesn’t think he should say, I’ve been waiting for you, I keep waiting for you to walk into a meeting room and be on my project, I’ve been needing to see you again.

Here he is, as large as life, and twice as handsome as Michael remembers him being.

“I heard you got your doctorate. I meant to send a card, but we were in the middle of the desert and…”

“It’s okay,” Michael promises. “You don’t have to apologize, it’s just a piece of paper.”

From the proud look on Alex’s face, he clearly doesn’t think so. He’s felt this before. With Max and Isobel, he’d felt it, that gut-punch of pride when he feels so happy of his accomplishments and no matter the dark sins of his past, he’s proven that he can be something.

The moment draws on, but it doesn’t feel awkward. If anything, it’s heated, the two of them staring at each other while the world around them shrinks.

“Are you going to the reunion?” Michael asks, when the silence between them starts to feel heavy and Michael starts to think about doing things other than talking again.

“I was thinking about it, but it felt a little like adult prom to me and my history with that isn’t so great,” Alex answers over his shoulder, but he doesn’t fully turn around. “You?”

“I was waiting to see if I could find a date. I don’t know,” Michael admits, heart pounding in his chest. “Isobel’s planning it, so I probably have to go no matter what. I said I’d help with the slideshow, so…”

“It could be fun,” Alex offers.

That moment is back and the heavy heat between them with it. Michael forces himself to look at Alex’s uniform so he doesn’t do something stupid like haul him inside the research lab and break all the samples by pushing him to the table. Alex looks like he’s considering things of his own, his eyes clearly on Michael’s lips.

“I should get back,” Alex finally admits, though he sounds weirdly disappointed. “I’m just here to help see the sale of the site through, I need to be back on base.” He lingers, again, like he’s waiting for Michael to say something.

Michael wishes someone had handed him a script or something, because he’s lost.

With one last shrug, Alex turns to start making his way out, leaning heavy on his crutch as Michael watches him go.

“You’re the stupidest genius I know,” the CO mutters as he walks past, shaking his head. “Or did they not teach you Romance at UNM?”

“Fuck off,” Michael hisses, which will probably get him a reprimand later, but it does do the trick of spotlighting the very big elephant in the room he’d been missing. The reunion, the hesitation, Alex’s waiting and disappointment…

“Hey!” Michael shouts after Alex, before he can get back in the car. Capitalizing on his courage, not caring how many people are around them, he keeps going, figuring in for a penny, in for a kiloton. “You wanna be my date to adult prom? I figure, I’m this published astrophysicist with a pretty sweet gig,” he says, with a casual shrug, “I might be able to hold my own against a decorated airman.”

Alex hasn’t fully turned around, but he’s smiling a little, lips curved upwards.The sun catches him perfectly, making his skin seem to glow, more beautiful than any alien piece Michael’s hiding in his bunker.

Michael tries not to think about how he’s asked Alex in front of a shitload of people and given their history, that might be a bad idea.

Lucky for him, history isn’t repeating itself. “Pick me up at six,” Alex says over his shoulder. “I expect you in a suit, Dr. Guerin,” he adds, and even from here, Michael can see the way Alex licks his lips, like the image of Michael in a suit in his head is tasty in and of itself.

He picks Alex up at six in a suit, and he’s got a corsage with him.

“Happy adult prom, huh?” Alex jokes.

Pinning it to Alex’s flannel (because the bastard made Michael dress up and then didn’t himself), he thinks he’ll figure out some fair revenge later. “Only if we end the night better than it did ten years ago.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

#Anonymous #malex #michael/alex #au #michael goes to unm #and becomes a Sexy Doctor #he and kyle totally have a 'doctor' 'doctor' pissing contest once a week #and it's amazing #roswell new mexico #fic prompts

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thedeadflag · 8 years ago

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I didn’t manage to finish it yet, not 100% sure how to end the prompt, but I figured I may as well post what I have here.

If anyone has any way they’d like to see it end, feel free to give feedback, I’m open to suggestions

Prompt: I wish you would write a fic where Clarke goes to visit her girlfriend Anya but she's not in the house, instead she finds Lexa sitting on a big chair, going like "You're the one who stole my sister's heart", in parallel to the "You're the one who burned 300 of my warriors alive" line.

**Ficlet under the cut**

"So what's going to happen with Luna?" Anya asked, lifting her cup of tea to her lips.

Lexa opened her mouth to speak, but yet another loud thump against the nearby wall delayed her speech for a moment, her sister frowning and letting out an annoyed huff. "We held an election with the board. I won, she didn't. I hope she'll just lick her wounds, but she'll probably run off to another company."

"She always was the kind to take her ball and go home." Anya added, brow furrowing as another thud sounded from the wall, followed by a loud moan. For the past half hour, Lexa's neighbour had seemingly been going at it pretty roughly next door. "Is that not the living room?"

Lexa shook her head and laughed. "Some people have strange kinks, Anya. This one seemed nice enough when I met her this morning, but...honestly, if she and whoever she's with plan on having sex in the living room, banging furniture against the wall like this, I might have to register a complaint."

Anya reared back a little. Lexa had always been a stickler for rules, but it seemed hasty to go after someone who hadn't even lived there for more than a single day. "Isn't that a little much? She just moved in. Why don't you see her in person and try to settle things?"

"You know that rarely helps. If she doesn't end this racket soon enough, I'll go to the rental company in the morning." Lexa answered with a shrug, cocking an eyebrow her way. "But if you feel an intervention would be worth it, then by all means, go over there. Just don't come back complaining when she slams the door in your face."

If there was one thing that aggravated her, it was Lexa challenging her. Especially since Lexa almost always ended up on the winning side, which was more frustrating than anything.

Still, while Anya had her own place a little outside the city, she'd spent a few years in apartment complexes and knew how things tended to go down. She knew that people could be reasonable, especially when they'd just moved in and don't want to make enemies.

Diplomacy, even if it was one of the most frustrating processes in existence, truly could work. And when it didn't, it let her rain down hell on her enemies, so that was always a plus, too.

"You should have more faith in me, dear sister." Anya noted with a grin, getting up from the kitchen table. It was a little late in the evening, and she was wearing a camisole and sleep shorts since Lexa had invited her to sleep over, but she could hardly imagine a neighbour would be too perturbed about an in-person noise complaint at quarter past nine.

Anya put on her sandals and exited the apartment, heading down one door to apartment three-nineteen. Readying herself for a possible confrontation, Anya knocked at the door and waited for the inevitable long wait and likely second and third attempts until the people inside realized she wasn't going away.

Except, the response was rather immediate. "Come in!" Lexa's neighbour called out, sounding panicked.

Confused, Anya leaned closer to the door. "Hello? I was wondering if I could talk to you about the noise?"

Anya heard a loud whine from inside. "Damn it! Please, can you come in and help me here?"

It was entirely bizarre, but she was nothing if not curious. Maybe a little worried at the distress in the woman's voice. "Are you decent?"

"I'm clothed and injured!" The woman called back, and whatever strange sex act was going on there, Anya was hopeful that she wouldn't end up scarred for life, as she could hardly turn down a request for aid.

Anya turned the doorknob and felt a little fortunate it was unlocked, letting her step inside. She only needed to take six more steps to get a good look into the living room, the sight stilling her in place.

A blonde woman was desperately trying to hold up a massive wooden cabinet full of fine china, but from the blood on the floor nearby, her quivering legs, and the broken bottom of the unit, it didn't seem to be a winning effort. Anya quickly rushed over and pressed up against the cabinet.

"I can hold it. You should go clean up your leg, unless you need help?" Anya asked, turning her attention to the blonde and immediately paling at the sight of her.

Oh no, she's hot...Anya mused to herself, already feeling herself sweat at how pretty Lexa's neighbour was, how beautifully blue her eyes were. She found herself smiling at the woman before she knew it, and sincerely hoped she didn't look like a creeper.

"Oh god, thank you. I'm a med student, my leg will be good to go in a jiffy. I'll be right back, I promise!" The blonde answered, quickly hobbling off towards what she expected was the bathroom.

The cabinet was hellishly heavy to hold up on her own, a credit to the physical fitness of Lexa's neighbour, but true to her word, the blonde was back barely two minutes later with her leg wrapped up. "Sorry about this, I tried calling my friend Raven, but I wasn't sure if she checked her voicemail. I dropped my phone after, so..." The woman stated, picking her phone back up. "Yeah, no calls or messages since. Shit, what am I gonna do?"

"I saw a bookshelf across the room. You could use those to stabilize this beast long enough to pull all the china out." Anya suggested, earning a harsh gasp.

"You want me to let it crush my books?" Lexa's neighbour sounded almost outraged.

"Just a suggestion. It'd keep it from falling forward and crushing us, and it'd buy time for me to get tools from my car and fix the bottom of the cabinet. A few minutes with my saw, and this will be good as new." Anya clarified, earning a second more horrified gasp to go along with the light smack to her shoulder.

"You want to mutilate my grandma's china cabinet?!"

Anya fought against rolling her eyes, knowing she was in a bit of a dangerous position if the huge wooden monstrosity fell on her. "You're a med student? Want to be what, a surgeon?" Anya asked, earning a wary nod. "I'm just trying to save the cabinet. Sometimes you need to amputate a limb, or remove some other damaged part of the body. It'll still be your grandma's cabinet. Just slightly shorter, and not prone to falling forward onto her granddaughter."

The woman lifted a finger as if to object, but seemed to think twice, letting out an aggravated groan and instead rushing out of Anya's view. She could hear the woman grumbling and muttering behind her, but eventually Lexa's neighbour returned, moving to a kneel and stacking a few books under the damaged area.

"I'm sorry old friends, I'll make it up to you." The neighbour mumbled, and soon Anya didn't feel the crushing weight of the cabinet. At least, not nearly as much, even if it was dipping forward still. "There. The cabinet's accepted my sacrifice."

"We'll do right by your noble charges. Let's get this china out." Anya suggested, earning a determined nod.

"So...I guess it's a little late for introductions, but I'm Clarke." Lexa's neighbour offered as she pulled out a stack of plates and ushered them to the nearby coffee table.

It was a peculiar name for a woman, but not entirely out of the blue. Given Clarke's clear love of her books, she wagered a guess. "As in Arthur C Clarke?"

Clarke spun around with a surprised smile on her face that immediately had Anya thankful for those books, because her legs were suddenly weak. "You're the first one to guess it right. My dad was a huge sci-fi nerd."

"In for a penny, in for a pound. At least you were named after one of the good ones." She noted with a grin. "I'm Anya. My sister's your neighbour...she thought you were having sex, so instead of formally complaining, she sent me over."

Clarke let out a laugh that immediately had Anya's mouth going dry with how melodic it was. "What, did she think I put my bed in the living room? That I'd have my headboard right up against the wall?"

"Well, to her credit, we heard regular thumps against the wall, and you moaning and crying out." Anya teased, hart fluttering at how red Clarke's cheeks went.

"I was wounded! I was defending myself against a really heavy china cabinet! I'd been stuck there for over forty-five minutes!" Clarke yelled, glaring in the direction of Lexa's apartment before loading up on more plates, her frame sagging slightly at the weight. "Ooof, these are heavy."

Anya swiftly grabbed them up and carried them over to the table. "I can get what's left, you just rest up."

"You're an angel, Anya. Thanks for all this...I'm pretty sure I could have died, I'm a little too stubborn for my own good sometimes." Clarke admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck. Anya just hoped that her own blushing wouldn't be visible at the sweet compliment. "I'll go grab some water for us."

Anya stilled at the thought of spending time with Lexa's neighbour, but she certainly wasn't opposed. It probably wouldn't be a long visit, anyways, so she was sure Lexa would understand.

Six more trips between the cabinet and the coffee table, and she was done, leaving the piece of furniture as far less of a safety hazard than before. "I can go down and grab my tools, if you'd like to take care of this tonight? Or I could fix it some other time?"

"If you can keep my books from facing too much permanent damage, I'll love you forever!" Clarke called out from the kitchen, giving her an easy enough answer.

Maybe she jogged down the four flights of stairs and out into the parking lot. Still took the elevator back up, of course, given she was carrying her massive tool kit from her recent home reno. Walking up four flights of stairs with her own body weight in tools was not advisable.

She had to text Lexa that she'd be back a bit later after helping her neighbour, but Lexa got back quick saying it was fine, that she'd just make them some snacks for the movies they'd watch later.

It only took a few seconds for Clarke to answer the door when she knocked this time around, though in the time she was gone, Clarke had not only changed into nicer, more form fitting clothes, she'd also let her hair down.

Both of which had Anya's gay heart pumping harder as she licked her lips, trying to fight the sudden desert-like qualities of her mouth. "Hey. This shouldn't take long, I promise."

Clarke stepped out of the way and gestured her to enter. "Would it be too much to ask if I could help? As much fun as it is learning about the human body, it's been a while since I'd had some hands-on education in something else."

Anya gulped and set her tool kit down in the living room, knowing that she was well and truly too gay for this, but she'd try anyways, hoping it wouldn't blow up in her face.

"Alright, so all my tools are labeled. Can you get me the laser level while I ease this onto the floor?"

---

Clarke stared at her handiwork now that the cabinet's bottom supports had been shaved down and sanded smooth. It'd taken longer than Anya could have probably managed on her own, but Clarke appreciated the impromptu lesson, knowing it could come in handy in the future.

And, well, having a pretty woman giving her some hands-on help? Well, she couldn't help herself. It wasn't just the fact that Anya had saved her from being crushed and had saved the last remaining thing she had to remember her grandmother by, even if those two things were pretty big. In all honesty, she liked Anya's wit, her smile, and the woman had legs for days.

There were worse things she could do than seducing her neighbour's sister.

"There, that should do it. Everything's leveled out...let's see how it looks standing up." Anya noted with an infectious grin. Truly, when Anya had rushed into her apartment and held up the cabinet for her and shot her that adorable smile of hers, Clarke had immediately found herself short of breath and had to hobble off to a safe distance where she could breathe again. Well over a dozen smiles later, it still had the same effect.

Clarke nodded and helped Anya slowly lift it back onto its supports, maybe pulling a hand away once it was upright enough to rest at the small of Anya's back. After all, it wouldn't do for Anya to feel unsupported, and Clarke had always been a fan of non-verbal gestures of thanks.

It was kind of marvelous that the cabinet stood tall, not even remotely wobbling. "It looks as good as new. I think this calls for a celebration." Clarke stated, turning on her best puppy dog eyes when she saw a flicker of hesitation in Anya's eyes. "You can stay for a drink, can't you?"

Clarke wasn't entirely prepared to take no for an answer, steering Anya towards her loveseat and gently prodding her to take a seat before rushing back to the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine she'd opened earlier and the cupcakes she'd stress-baked that afternoon after reality had sunk in about living on her own for the first time, in a new city to boot.

And maybe she didn't have to resign herself to the idea of eating all three dozen on her own, now.

Clarke took two glasses and carried them, the bottle, and one of the cupcake containers out to the living room, setting them on the table. "I figure there's nothing wrong with a glass of wine to celebrate a job well done and a new friendship, right?" She asked, pouring the wine and handing Anya one of the glasses.

Anya's smile was warm as she took hold of it, giving it a glance before taking a sip. "We're friends?"

Clarke shrugged and took a seat, feet tucked beneath her, body angled towards Anya. "Unless you can think of something more fitting."

She watched Anya's eyes go wide, watched her swallow hard, but it was clear that Anya wasn't some helpless prey. The heat in her eyes told a different story. "I might have an idea or two."

"Well, you are crafty. I'd imagine you would." Clarke shot back, leaning ever so slightly closer, tracing her tongue across her lower lip.

Anya set her glass on the table, watchful eye flitting between Clarke's eyes and lips. "Mmmmh. But first I have to thank you."

"For what?" Clarke asked, inching closer, her heart beating stronger, faster the nearer she was to her guest.

Anya was a breath away, and like hell if the woman didn't meet her in the middle, the languid kiss sweet with the taste of wine, Anya's hand smoothing down her cheek, fingertips pressing at the bottom of her chin like she was drinking in everything Clarke had to offer.

It was flattering, really, and only had her pressing forward, prodding Anya to turn as she guided her guest down against the armrest and straddled her hips. Clarke was reluctant to allow her much of any distance, but when Anya's kisses grew fleeting, fluttering across her lips, nose, chin, punctuating against the mole on her upper lip, maybe that was all cute enough for her to give her room to breathe.

Anya made it easy, the giddy, gleeful expression on her face spinning Clarke's hearts into somersaults. "For giving me some sugar." Anya finally answered, shaking with laughter as she brought a cupcake from the table to her mouth and took a bite out of it. Anya let out a content hum, gazing down at the remainder of the cupcake in appreciation. "These are really good. They taste almost as good as you."

The cheesiness was too much not to laugh at. "You've only had a tiny sample of what I offer, babe. Trust me."

"Oh, I do. But here's the thing, darling..." Anya let out all low and slow, that last word lighting a blazing fire in Clarke. "See, by the look in your eyes, I get the feeling that you want me to stay for more than just a drink tonight. And yet, I promised my sister a movie night."

"And if I asked you to consider changing your plans?" Clarke probed, heart twisting at the thought of Anya trying to find an escape, that maybe she'd read the woman wrong.

"I'd say I'm a woman of my word. When I make a promise, I keep it. So I have to go soon." Anya clarified, and Clarke couldn't quite hide her disappointment. "Clarke...think of the big picture here. I keep my promises...so if you were to ask me to be free on a certain day...or if you wanted me to do something specific for you and I agreed...or you managed to talk me into something when we were a little distracted...you can always count on me to live up to it. Always."

She could feel the sweat at her brow at the implications. And really, while it was deeply disappointing that this new connection wouldn't continue overnight, Clarke did see the appeal in Anya's honesty and loyalty. It was a breath of fresh air compared to some of her past exes.

Still, she could hardly let Anya go without showing her disappointment, letting out a heavy sigh. "I guess that's perfectly fair and reasonable of you. It'd be wrong to break your plans with your sister like that. So...if I wanted to take you on a date on, say, Saturday?"

Relief shone in Anya's eyes. "Any particular time on Saturday?"

"Noon and onward?" Clarke asked, relishing in the excitement swirling amidst Anya's wide-eyed surprise. "I want to get to know you. That means spending time with you...we grab lunch, spend time at the park together, catch the afternoon concert, grab dinner, head to either of our places, and see where the night takes us?"

Anya leaned up, bringing their lips together in a sweet, lingering kiss. "That sounds perfect."

"Then Saturday it is. And since I won't be able to give you any more sugar tonight...the least I can do is offer you something that tastes almost as good. For your movie night." Clarke offered, taking hold of the tupperware container holding now eleven cupcakes. "I'll give you this and another one. I stress bake, so you'd be doing me a favor in taking two thirds of these off my hands. I don't want to have to eat more than a dozen."

"That sounds like a sweet deal to me." Anya laughed, and maybe if Anya wasn't looking up at her with such warmth, maybe she would have been her usual coy self and played it off as nothing, certainly not a sign of commitment or anything like that.

In reality, she wanted Anya to be reminded of her all night. She wanted Anya to snack away on those cupcakes and think about kissing her. And she wanted to get in Anya's sister's good graces after taking up so much of their time already.

"Sweet gifts for a sweet girl." She conceded, adoring the sudden shy smile and glimmer of hope in Anya's eyes, even if the woman schooled her features quickly enough into a less vulnerable and transparent sort of happiness that was no less adorable.

Anya rolled her eyes, laughter bursting out a little harder. "You're probably the first person since my teacher in sixth grade to call me 'sweet'."

"Maybe so, but it's the truth." Clarke admitted, pulling out her phone, unlocking it, and starting up a new contact. "Now, would you be so gracious as to give me a way to get a hold of you whenever I can't literally take hold of you?"

She handed the phone to Anya, who held her gaze for an extra moment or two before turning focus to the screen, calmly tapping away as her smile grew. "I could hardly decline. You're all here by your lonesome, it's important to have someone you can get a hold of if you need to." Anya murmured, quickly finishing inputting her information, handing the phone back. "Here you are, darling."

Spurred on by impulse, Clarke took her phone, switched to the camera, and snapped a quick picture of her blushing, smiling guest. Anya rolled her eyes and let out a huff at her antics, and maybe it was justified, but she couldn't just leave her contact page free of photo evidence. Certainly not after Anya had been cute with the pet names again.

"I guess I should let you go, then." Clarke said, reluctantly getting off the couch and packing up the cupcakes.

By the time she'd grabbed the other container from the kitchen and returned, Anya had just finished packing up her tools. From where she was kneeling, Anya glanced up at her; she must have seen something, whether it was Clarke's encroaching feelings of loneliness or something else, because like a flick of a switch, her eyes softened with sympathy.

Clarke set the cupcakes on the side-table by the door. "I hope you have fun with your sister." She tried to distract Anya, but her guest just wasn't having it, closing the distance between them and reaching down to take hold of her hands.

"I really like you, Clarke." Anya murmured, her warm brown eyes focusing intently on Clarke's. "I'm really looking forward to Saturday. But our date's thirty-eight hours away, so I was wondering if you could indulge me a little until then?"

She felt herself swallow hard, and even if she could clearly see that Anya wasn't the needy one out of the both of them, at least at the moment. She nodded along, relieved that Anya could tell she was feeling a little insecure and wasn't teasing her over it. "Of course, anything."

"Could you text me in a few minutes so I'll have your number? It's just that here you are, freshly moved into your new place, and I don't want you to feel alone. I know what it's like to move into a new place by yourself and to feel a little lonely." Anya noted, pretty much getting it in one in terms of how she was feeling. "When it was me, my friend insisted that we text each other when we went to bed, so that we could be there for each other, if just in those moments. It helped me feel less alone."

Clarke sunk her teeth into her lower lip, heart fluttering at the sweet offer. "I'm a bit of a night owl, fair warning."

Anya shrugged. "Then I'll at least be able to wish you sweet dreams when I head to bed. And Clarke...you can text me if you ever want to talk. I don't play games, if I like you then I like you. I'll answer as soon as I'm able to."

It was a kind offer, one she didn't want to abuse, but she mind end up doing anyways. With no friends or family in Baltimore, or even within five hundred miles, she was very much alone in any reasonable sense. For someone she'd just met to offer to be accessible for her, even if it was someone who was romantically interested in her, it was huge.

"There you go being sweet again." She murmured, taking a half step closer to lean in and press a lingering kiss to Anya's cheek. "I'm really glad I met you, Anya. Maybe I could make friends with your sister, too?"

Anya laughed, pulling her hands away to wipe at her right eye with the edge of her hand. "Oh god, Lexa's going to smell you all over me, and she's going to get protective and territorial. Not a chance in hell she'll be your friend for at least the next week or two."

Clarke paled at the thought of inadvertently having made an enemy. "Well...shit."

"Don't worry about her. She'll come around, she always does...just be prepared for a little dramatic flair from her for a while, and be prepared to win her over when she comes for your throat." Anya added, not really giving her any confidence that she hadn't made a life-long enemy for expressing her interest in Anya. "She respects courage and honesty. My past few exes were...lacking in that department. So just tell her the truth, don’t buckle under pressure, and stand by your feelings, and you'll be fine."

"You're talking as if you think we're going to be a thing for a while." Clarke suggested, deciding to focus on the silver lining instead of the intimidating-sounding sister.

"I have a good feeling." Anya answered, fingertips gently stroking down her side. "On that note, I should go. I'll talk to you soon, Clarke."

"I hope you and Lexa have a nice night. Take care." Clarke offered, waiting for Anya to grab her tools before plopping the tupperware containers on her arms.

She watched Anya leave, carefully padding her way down the hall and kicking apartment three eighteen's door with her foot. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Anya disappeared into her sister's apartment, leaving Clarke alone to finish unpacking.

But not entirely alone, she knew, as she grabbed her phone and sent off a quick text to Anya, swiftly changing her contact profile right after.

Clarke Griffin Let me know if Lexa enjoys the cupcakes!

She only had to wait a half minute for a response.

Anya Sweetheart Woods She spent the past hour making snacks for our movie marathon and has decided to utterly ignore them in favor of your cupcakes.

She's moaning *very* loudly. It's really embarrassing

Clarke grinned at her phone as she made her way to her bedroom, flopping heavily onto her bed and curling up with her collection of pillows.

Clarke Griffin You did say that they taste nearly as good as me. This shouldn't come as a surprise

Anya Sweetheart Woods I might have just relayed that fact. She's entirely suspicious now, but is still happily eating cupcakes

I think she's too focused on snacking for now to interrogate me. Just starting up John Wick 2, but if you need to talk I'll be here

Clarke sighed, staring at that last message, at Anya's earnest offer.

Yeah, Saturday couldn't come soon enough.

---

Sixteen days later

---

Clarke was capital E excited as she got out of her car and stared up the long flower-lined walkway to Anya's house. She'd been twice before, but this would be her first night sleeping over. Hell, it was their first time sleeping over anywhere, and Anya also wanted her to stay the weekend. While she had adored the past two weeks of dating and taking it slow, she was more than ready to take the next step.

So yeah. Excited wasn't really a word that could fully describe how she felt as she made her way up the walkway with her luggage in tow, but it would have to do until her vocabulary could recover.

She'd received a text from Anya a few minutes earlier telling her to just walk in, so even though her manners willed her to knock, she trusted in Anya and opened the door, hauling her luggage across the threshold. She could smell a fresh fire in the living room, so she left her luggage in the foyer and went down the hall, looking forward to snuggling on the couch with her girl.

Except as she rounded the corner into the living room, it wasn't Anya she saw.

There, at the end of the room, the early evening light streaming in the windows behind her, was Lexa, seated on an oversized, ornate, silver leaf-decorated chair that very well might have been a throne at some point in its lifetime.

Clarke offered a wary stare at Lexa, who was holding a very large and dangerous-looking knife in her hands, green eyes boring into Clarke's skull.

"You're the one who stole my sister's heart." Lexa stated, voice dripping with danger even if Clarke couldn't quite make sense of why. It would make sense for Lexa to be happy, not upset.

Deciding to rise to the challenge, Clarke stepped closer, stopping directly ahead of her a few feet away. "You're the one who sent her over to see me."

Lexa lifted her chin, her hard, intense stare unrelenting. "Do you love her, Clarke Griffin of Pasadena California?"

She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks, knowing full well the answer to Lexa's question. Still, like hell if she was going to tell Lexa before she told Anya.

"I have an offer for you." Clarke asserted, only for Lexa to lift a hand and send a disapproving frown her way.

"This is not a negotiation." Lexa practically growled.

Still, she had to stand firm. She had to pull out the big guns. "I can help you learn how to make my cupcakes."

The hunger and lust the woman was giving off was palpable as Lexa's eyes grew wide, throat straining as she visibly swallowed. "Go on."

Clarke nearly recoiled at how easy it was to get Lexa hook, line, and sinker, but willed herself not to react, knowing it could blow the opportunity she had managed to earn. "Between what Anya has stocked, and what I brought with me, I can teach you how to make them. I've never written the recipe down, but I could give it to you."

"In exchange for not having to answer that question." Lexa said, eyes narrowing in clear suspicion.

"That word, and whether or when it's been spoken to whom, is entirely between me and Anya." Clarke countered quickly, though she could see Lexa weighing the offer, and could see she hadn't won the woman over. Deciding maybe a little embarrassment was worth ensuring Lexa would be on her side, Clarke decided to pull the lack trick up her sleeve. "I'll show you what I brought with me in my luggage and you can infer what you want from that."

Lexa held her stare for agonizingly long seconds, the intensity spurring seat to bud at her hairline. So she felt light as a feather when Lexa eventually nodded and got up from the chair. "Why did you bring luggage, anyways?"

"It's our first sleepover. I wanted to bring the necessary stuff, and things to help celebrate." Clarke clarified, leading Lexa off to the foyer to grab her luggage before wheeling it into the kitchen. "Not that you need to know, but it's all innocent."

"I'm sure." Lexa noted, not sounding entirely convinced, but also not really sounding entirely invested in whether they'd be up to anything depraved in nature.

Clarke set her luggage up on the kitchen table and opened it up for Lexa's perusal. And of course Anya's sister would pull out some of the food first, holding up packs of graham crackers and marshmallows, eyebrow cocked and questioning. "It's for s'mores. I figured the fire pit in the back would be good for that."

"Yes, I suppose, but...why? You're not out camping or anything, certainly you have strong baking skills." Lexa stated, probing at the first of the things that would probably result with her having to make it up to Anya. Not that Anya wasn't in the know about any of them, essentially, but making all of that more public wasn't something she'd talked about with Anya yet.

Still, it was Lexa. Clarke wanted to hope Anya would forgive her. And it wasn't as if she didn't have leverage over Lexa.

"I hoped to make them with Anya and...well, I was going to tell her I adore her s'more and s'more every day." Clarke answered despite the rising blush in her cheeks, bracing herself for laughter as she stared down at the bars of chocolate in her luggage.

She hadn't even accounted for the possibility of the sniffling sounds beside her, or the single tear track on Lexa's face as the woman gazed softly at the pack of marshmallows. "That's beautiful."

Maybe there was just something in the Woods family tree that ensured they were all entirely sappy individuals, but it was endearing nonetheless. "Yeah, well, she deserves it. She's pretty much the sweetest person I've met, so it's only right that I step up and treat her right."

Lexa's laughter rang out this time around, Clarke having to wait about a half a minute before Anya's sister calmed herself enough to speak again. "Anya? Sweet? You must be joking." Lexa spoke between laughs, though Clarke simply raising her eyebrows expectantly stilled that compulsion, leaving the woman to express her complete bewilderment Clarke's way. "You're not?"

Clarke shook her head. "Wouldn't dare. And don't even ask for details, that wasn't part of the deal. But speaking of our deal...I think you have your answer, don't you?"

"I believe I do." Lexa agreed, a hint of a smile on her lips before turning her focus to the rest of the kitchen. "Now, we should get to these cupcakes. Anya will get home in a little over ninety minutes. I want to have my cupcakes, help you clean up, and make sure you're all set to treat my sister before she arrives."

More than a little thrilled to have Lexa backing their relationship, Clarke quickly gathered the ingredients from her luggage and brought them over to the kitchen island. A minute or so later, everything was ready, leaving her the excuse to grab the pad and pencil on Anya's fridge and start jotting down the ingredient list and instructions.

"So okay, here's what I need you to do..."

---

(that’s where I’ve left off...any ideas?)

#writewritewrite #thedeadflag #clanya fanfiction #total fluff

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golden-x-mage · 4 years ago

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if i had a penny for every time i’ve had an idle thought that’s grown into an oc with a cowboy theme i’d have two pennies, which isn’t a lot but it’s strange that it’s happened twice

#sorry for textposting

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sending-the-message · 7 years ago

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A Long Night in the Witch's Wood by TheJesseClark

The following excerpt has been updated from an old, 18th century English storybook that I found, titled The Life and Times of Isaiah Ferrin.

The woods in this region carry on and on for miles. They are deep and rich, and thick and unyielding, and are bound up at their easternmost border only by rivers and riverlands, and at their westernmost by the foothills of mountains, and to their north and south by more of the same. At one point the forest parts around a hilltop clearing that bears a merchant’s town called Moon River at its crest, but that place was still a good ways east of us when Francis Papen leaned out from the warmth of his carriage and said to me on my horse, “It's well past dusk now, Ferrin! What say we stop for the night?”

“Tired after a day of sitting, are you?” I said back, without so much as looking at the man. “Wouldn't think you'd want your precious furs to spoil before we got to town.”

“Furs won't spoil. Not like it's any business of yours, mercenary. Your business is doing what I say, and I say we find a cabin and wait out the nig-”

“My business is escorting you to town in one piece, is it not?” Now I did look at him, and he said nothing, so I continued. “So as far as I'm concerned, I'm in charge until we get there.”

“Is that a damn fact? Maybe I'll decide not to pay you a thing, mercenary. There isn't a man in Moon River who wouldn't believe that you and your gang of highwaymen tried to rob blind a humble merchant in the woods.”

“Well, you do know what they say about these woods.”

He blinked. “I hired you for a reason. What of it?”

“Well, say I slit your throat right here on this spot, and have Hollis over there do the same to your driver. You think those men in Moon River wouldn't believe that something other than myself was responsible for the crime?” He said not a word more, so again I continued. “And perhaps after we're done with you, we’ll just sell all your furs for ourselves when we reach town. I think we'd fetch a mighty profit. What say you, Hollis?”

Hollis rode his horse around the front of the carriage and eyed the driver with a nasty stare, before circling around to my side.

“I'd say we'd make more in that endeavour than this one.”

“You hear that, Papen?” I said. “‘We'd make more in that endeavor than this one.’”

The Merchant said only, “Bastards, the pair of you,” and slammed shut the carriage window. Then Hollis leaned in.

“Fat merchant’s a right prick, isn't he?”

“Has been since we took this damned job.”

We rode in silence for a moment. But then Hollis leaned in again, and said, quieter this time, “He's right though, you know.”

“About what?”

“We shouldn't be out here at night. Especially not on these roads. Things are already eyein’ us from the thicket.”

“I know; that's why I didn't want to stop. Moon River can't be more than two or three hours off.”

“Well, give it another half-hour on the mark and the sun’ll be down. Then it won't matter how fast we're movin.’ Those things will be faster.”

Again there was a briefness without talking. But I knew he was right, and soon enough we saw an appropriate place to stay; a small cabin in a clearing not much bigger than itself, and I pointed it out to Papen’s driver. It took the merchant himself not more than a minute to feel the turn.

“I see you two have seen some sense in things.” He said through the opened window.

“Watch it, Lord. We're not making a stop on your account.”

He ignored the comment and leaned far enough out to see the cabin itself.

“Wait, that there is where we'll stay for the night? That cabin?”

“It is.”

“It's a damned shanty! What the hell do you take me for, some rat-eating peasant?”

“No, I take you for a man who'll either sleep in a perfectly well-built house for a night or out in the grass.” I rode to the front of the company before he had a chance to respond, and while Hollis guarded the carriage, I rode a quick lap around the place and found it suitable. Then I dismounted, and I tied my horse to the sill-post, and brought up a pistol and approached the door and knocked once, twice, three times. Rap rap rap.

“Anyone inside?” I said. “We're tired travelers; we seek only a place to sleep for the night.”

There was no answer, so I pushed open the door and let the moonlight hit the place from the opening. There was a scarcity of it, but I could see well enough to determine the cabin’s emptiness, and once I did I waved in Hollis, who in turn waved in the carriage, which approached slowly. It came to a full rest a few feet in front of the door, and when it did the driver dismounted and opened the door for Papen. Hollis brought in the muskets, and the driver brought in the Merchant’s storage, and the Merchant himself brought only wine. Once he made it inside he took a seat on the only chair in the room. I struck a match for light.

“So! What’ll you fix me for supper, mercenary?”

“I wasn’t aware I was being paid to cook.” I leaned my musket up against the door.

“Well surely you can’t expect me to starve!”

“Not our fault your brought nothing but your wine,” said Hollis. He bit into a serving of salted meat as if to taunt the man.

“And its not my fault I wasn’t informed a meal wouldn’t be provided on the journey. You men can hunt, can you not?”

“We can. But in these woods after sun-down it’ll be us that’s hunted, not the other way around.”

Papen was unimpressed. “Oh, come now. Trained killers such as yourselves? Step softly, make not a lot of noise, and whatever foul things there are out here, if any, surely won’t take notice of you.”

“And you don’t think a musket shot would alert ‘whatever foul things there are out here’ to our presence?” Hollis chewed as he spoke.

“Well then use the same damn musket to shoot the thing!”

Hollis and I traded glances, and then we looked back to Papen.

“Do you not know what lies out here, Merchant?” I said.

“Highwaymen and brigands. What of it? I can’t imagine you’d have stopped here for the night if you expected an ambush.”

“‘Highwaymen and brigands?’” said Hollis. “Is that all you’ve heard of? Let me tell you something, Lord Papen. They don’t call this place ‘the Bandits’ Grove,’ or ‘Highwaymen Forest.’ Do you know what they do call it?”

Papen shook his head.

“They call it ‘The Witches’ Wood.’ And do you know why it bears such a name?”

Another head-shake. No.

“Because not far off from this very spot,” Hollis continued, backing Papen up against the wall, “you’ll find forest clearings lined with dead things in the trees. Raccoons. Foxes. Squirrels. All tied up with twine to the trunks and rottin’ to the bone. But not just them; you’ll see horses, too. Taken from the carriages of stupid, fat fucking Merchants who travel alone in the woods to save a penny on the ferry.”

“A-and what of the uhm, what of the Merchants themselves? Any tales on what happens to them?”

“Oh, yes.” I joined in now. “Y’see, my lord, you can’t satiate the devil’s bloodlust with a beast, now, can you?”

He shook his head. “I suppose not.”

“That’s right,” I continued. “You’ll need a man for that. But sadly there isn’t one alive today who knows just what it is the wood-witches and their man-wolves do to their captives here. And why is that, Hollis?”

“Because those captives never make it home to tell the tale, Ferrin. All we know is that deep out in the thicket there are heads on spikes and hangin’ corpses. A warning, as it were, to trespassers, and to haughty fools.”

Papen did his unworthy best to look unafraid.

“And them folks up in Moon River?” I continued. “They say that every night under a full moon you’ll see flickers of firelight in the trees, and along with it you’ll hear a strange chanting coming out from the depths of the Wood.”

“Ch-chanting?”

“Oh, yes,” Hollis said. “Wood-women dancin’ wickedly around the fire under the full moon, dressed in rags and tatters and fur, settin’ ancient words to ancient tunes that summon up old devils. So says the folks in Moon River, anyway.”

Papen wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, and planted his back to the southern wall.

“And w-what’s that got to do with, you know, with captured t-travellers?”

“Well, again.” I said. “We don’t know. Nobody’s ever seen the Coven’s Supper up close and made it back to speak of it. But those same folk in Moon River? They say that on those full-moon eves, three hours past midnight, when the chanting and the roar of the flame hit their peak, and all the evil of the wood is whipped up in an unholy fury, you can hear somethin’ else in the midst of it.”

Papen gulped. “S-something else? And what would that be?”

“Screamin.’”

“AAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!” Hollis lunged forward, and when he did, Papen shrieked and backed into the chair and over it, and fell to his ass. Hollis and I shared a laugh, and even the driver, after he recovered from his shock, tried to hide a smile before going back to the task of organizing the luggage.

“That wasn’t funny!” Papen said. He rose again with an effort and dusted off his waistcoat. “That wasn’t funny at all. Now I demand to know what’s to be done about my supper!”

“Learn to have a laugh at your own expense, Lord.” I said. “There’s a deer out there at the far edge of the clearing. Hollis, you mind staying here while I kill the thing?”

“Just be quick about it.”

I grabbed my knife, and my musket for good measure, and turned back once I’d reached the door.

“Driver!” I said. The boy - about eighteen, if I had to guess - looked up from his task.

“Sir?”

“What’s your name, lad?”

“Uh, Moses, sir. Jed Moses.”

“That’s a shit name, son. You should be ashamed. Anyway; come along with me; I’ll need your help carrying back that deer.”

The boy looked excitedly at Papen - who rolled his eyes in a ‘yes’ - and then he bounded on after me, and together we stepped out into the cold and the dark of night in Witches’ Wood. The deer grazed lazily on the other side of the road, not yet having seen us.

“Are you going to shoot it, sir Ferrin?” whispered Moses.

“First of all, boy, I’m not a knight. So drop the ‘sir.’ Second of all, no. I want to make as little noise as possible, so if we’re lucky we can sneak around the damn thing and take the bitch from the rear. Only brought the gun in case of an emergency.” I handed it to him, and he cradled it like a jewel, and then I unsheathed my hunting knife. Together we moved to the tall grass in the left, where the deer couldn’t see, and I rolled my foot around from heel to toe to muffle the sound of my booted footfalls in the grass and dirt.

C’mon, then. Easy does it.

But without reason or warning, and not more than a second before I was about to lunge for the animal’s throat, the deer finished its meal and bounded off down the hill into the thicket.

“Dammit!” I peered after it. It wasn’t sprinting, really; just softly running, and not much faster than I could move. I said back to Moses, “Come on, lad. Let’s get after the damn thing.”

So in we went behind it, through underbrush and shrubbery, and under branches and over logs and rocks and stone. The deer, somehow having not yet seen the pair of us, plodded lazily along and sacrificed its lead by doing so. Forty feet. Thirty. Twenty five. I could nearly taste the venison, and when we weren’t more than a leap away I drew my knife and made ready for a killing lunge. But then the deer took a pivot on its front, and vanished behind a wall of trees.

“Faster, boy. With me.” Moses and I followed it, but then we stopped.

Moses whispered, “Where did it go?”

“Dunno, kid.” I said back. “Damn thing was right here; couldn’t have gotten far. Keep your eyes sharp.”

I kept moving, rolling my step, peering into the underbrush for signs of movement or for hoof-prints or the smell of fur. But Moses hadn’t yet begun to follow.

“What’s wrong, lad? You coming?”

But he said nothing in response. Instead he stood tall and straight, and he trembled, and he sweat, and he quivered his lip, and he stretched out his arm and pointed at something behind me. I turned to look.

“What is it? Wh-?”

And then I stopped too. The deer was standing there, staring out at the pair of us from a ways out in the thicket, and showing no signs of worry. But no longer was it the beautiful buck we’d chased; instead it was diseased, and rotting alive, and sickly thin; quite a hideous sight to behold, indeed. But it was what stood next to the thing that frightened us most.

It was a woman, I saw, once she stepped into a moonbeam. She was old and thin, and her hair was grey and matted and it fell in clumps to her shoulders and stood out from her head. She smiled a toothless grin, and then cackled demonically.

“Moses,” I said, without looking away from the Witch, “hand me the musket, lad. Do it now.”

He did, and I shouldered the thing, although neither the Witch nor the deer seemed to mind the gesture. She only grinned, so I breathed deep, and moved my finger over to the trigger of the gun, and -

CRACK!!

We whirled around.

“What was that?”

“Another musket shot,” I said. “From the cabin.” We traded only the briefest of glances, and then we turned to look at the Witch. I felt an unwelcome chill.

“W-where’d she go?” Moses said.

“I don’t know, lad. But I ain’t gonna go searchin’ for the bitch. C’mon with me.” And with him at my heels we tore back up the way we came, over rock and stone, under branches that whipped and through creeks that soaked through the leather of our boots. We climbed and set our boots to the mud, and soon we’d stumbled back onto the old beaten road that split the field.

“Oh, God. N-” I slapped my hand over Moses’ mouth and wrestled the boy to the ground before he broke off in a sprint towards the wreckage ahead.

“Keep silent, lad. We might not be alone in this place.” Only slowly did I let him back to his feet, and I readied up my musket.

We moved through the grass the way we’d come, to our right now, past the sacked carriage on its old splintered wheel, and the dead horse attached to it. The poor beast’s harness had been split by a laceration that gutted its midsection and spilled its guts to the mud. Already it stunk of rot, and similar fates had befallen the two other horses near the door. I stepped over them carefully.

“Hollis!” I whispered, once I'd stepped in pastvthe threshold. “Hollis! You in there?” I smelled gunsmoke in the cabin, and something worse - like a wet dog. But I saw and heard not a thing, and I didn’t dare light another match.

“Hollis!” I whispered again. “Hollis, y-”

And then we heard a rustling in the corner. I shouldered up my musket and whispered, “Declare yourself!” With my head i signaled for Moses to flank, and he scuffled his way to the opposite corner and sat down in the shadows. Then we saw movement from the offending corner, and the throwing loose of a quilt.

“I-its me!” Papen said. “Don’t shoot! Please, God, don’t sh-!”

“We’re not gonna shoot you, Papen. Just tell us what happened. Where’s Hollis?”

The Merchant gradually, and with hands still raised high, revealed himself and sat up.

“Those things took him!” He said. “They stormed right in, and-”

“Wait, wait. What things?”

“Those wood-witches, and, and-” he trailed off.

“And what?!”

“T-towering things. Black things. Wolf beasts, they were; snarling, wild dog-men at the witches’ command. They had the wild devil in them, Ferrin. I swear they did. Hollis shot his musket at one and didn’t so much as scratch its fur!”

“And where were you in all this?”

He didn’t answer. By the moonlight Moses and I caught each other’s glare, and then I turned back to Papen.

“I asked you a question, Merchant.” I held my musket at the hip.

He stammered only, “I’m- I’m sorry. I truly am.”

“What? Sorry for what?”

“They said they'd spare me if I led you here.”

And all at once I heard that damned Witch’s cackle from behind, and it was followed by footsteps, and by breathing - heavy, labored breathing - and that smell of a wet dog, as pungent as ever. Moses fell to his ass and scampered to the far wall, unable, to scream, and Papen merely repeated, “I’m sorry” over and over and over again. “They said they’d let me live. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Miserable fucking coward,” I mumbled, and then I whirled around with the musket and fired.

I am walking in the woods. Not gracefully, but in dull, pounding, uneven footsteps, as if I suffer a limped gait. My head hurts. My sides hurt. Breathing itself hurts, too; I swallow in the air in heaving but shallow breaths, and it is not enough. I smell terrible things - a rotting, wet dog, and blood - and I see terrible things - the trees here are filled with mutilated creatures - and I hear terrible things, too. There is a cackling, wicked laugh. I turn to look, and see a hideous, old, frail beast of a woman there. Her hair is grey and unkempt, and her face is filled with age, and her mouth is toothless and cracked and rotten. The Witch laughs again, and says something in a language I can neither understand nor identify. But the words are coarse and rough and mocking, and when I hear them, my vision swims, and it tunnels, and it darkens, and then…

...And then I am seated at a table. It is made of a deep wood and has no food or wine on its surface, but only a candle, which provides just enough light to throw back the infinite darkness that surrounds it. There are others here, too, and they, like me, are seated around this table, unmoving and with their hands turned palm-up and placed on the wood in front of them. And at the far end of the table is a standing figure, a man in a black cloak, wearing as a mask the severed head of a ram. He carries a Black Book in his hands, and as he reads its contents I can hear a chorus coming up from the nothingness. It is all at once slow and faint and beautiful, and dark and wicked, and ancient and ethereal in nature. I can make out the words - Astrum viernos, Astrum meus, Astrum mortum, Astrum northos - sung in endless repetition; and although I know not their meaning, it does not matter. The words course through me and take me, and as I listen all my fears and all my pleasures and all my thoughts melt away. I feel not a thing. No joy and no peace, no fear and no anguish, no sadness and no sorrow. I simply am. The Goat-man stares at me - somehow I know this through his mask - and then there is a rumbling like thunder, and then...

...and then I am no longer in that room at the table. I am somewhere else, now; the great hall of a mighty palace, it seems. No - as I look around it, and all the pillars and all the jewels, I see it is not just a palace but a temple, too. And I stand at the center of it, and to my left and to my right are endless hosts of wicked things singing that chorus: Astrum viernos, Astrum meus, Astrum mortum, Astrum northos. Over and over again, and in this place the song is louder and clearer and more beautiful than they were in the Black Room. And instead of the Goat-Man, there is something else on the mighty seat ahead of and above me: it is a snarling, mighty beast upon the throne; In its left hand it carries the Black Book, and its right that is set up on its lap, it holds the world. I approach it in a passive awe, and when I stand at the foot of the stairs beneath the Beast it opens up its mouth. And then…

...And then I am back in the woods. I feel as if I’ve been here forever, now. I can remember nothing, but I care little, because I also feel nothing: no emotions; no pain; no memory. I simply move forward, ever forward, through the grass and the dirt and past towering Wolf-beasts and other old women, dancing and singing ancient chants. Above me the night sky is split and broken, and at its center swirls a vast red maelstrom of cloud through which unholy hosts come to dine on what will be offered. And ahead of me, at the center of these proceedings, there is a mighty pyre set to burn. The women take me and place me upon the stakes, next to three other men. One of them appeared in a similar state of bliss to myself, and another cries for mercy - for what reason I cannot fathom - and the other, a boy of eighteen, perhaps, has his eyes shut tight, and whispers, “Please, God. Please. Save us. Please, Jesus.”

Instantly I snapped free of the trance, and the Witch approaching the pyre with a lit torch fell back and dropped the thing to the grass. What in the hell-? I looked up. Thy sky bore no swirling vortex to Hades, I saw, but stars instead, a glimmering multitude of them, and silver clouds hit back by moonlight. And then I looked out at the clearing. The Coven of Witches that had gathered, and all their forces of wolf-beasts, had ceased their demonic chants. Now they scowled at the lot of us with fury and venom and a host of menace. And they began to approach.

“Hollis,” I said to my friend, who stood on the pyre beside me. He turned.

“Hell, boy. What happened to you? Did these fuckers do that?”

“Nevermind the black-eye. We need to move.”

“We’re tied!”

“We’re not; those bitches ain’t yet roped us to the wood.”

He looked down. He moved his hands. And he moved his feet. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said. And we leapt down together from the stake. He kicked the fallen Witch in the jaw and grabbed the torch she’d lost. I myself ran around the pyre and collected the other men in our company.

“Let’s go, old man!” I grabbed Papen by the shoulder-cloth of his coat. “I can nearly see Moon River from here.” He slid sloppily off the pyre and tumbled to the grass, and I moved to Moses while he regained his footing.

“Come on, boy,” I said. “And don’t stop your praying!” He, too, leapt off the pyre when he realized we were free, and then our company took off with all haste towards Moon River, with a wicked host at our back.

“Move, lads! Move with all you’ve got in you!”

We fled across the clearing, through grass with its blades to our hip, and then we tore into the forest and half-leapt, half-ran down the sloping, mud-soaked hill of it. Over logs we went, and over rocks, too, and stones, and we ducked under whipping branches and splashed through swamp-water bogs. And behind us, never more than a good leap away, thundered a storm of our hunters. They screamed and shouted and howled and ran, often on all fours and with demonic speed, and soon enough they weren’t only behind us, or close behind us. No, soon I saw things in the trees beside us; more wood-folk who’d joined the chase. There were Wolf-men, too, bounding in lock-step in the shadow of the deep, and the forest shuddered with their footfalls, and the devil’s red of their eyes carried with it an unspeakable malice. Don’t stop now. Don’t slow your flight. Don’t slow-

Snap.

I turned to look just in time to see Francis Papen trip over his own twisted ankle and tumble hard over the offending branch. He hit the dirt with his face, and had only just lifted his eyes back up to the trail when a werewolf fell onto his back, followed by another, and behind them a host of wood-witches. His screams were shrill, but I turned the fear to force, and pumped my legs next to Hollis and just behind Moses. On and on we ran, across another shallow clearing and a stone-dammed brook and over an old fence that we mounted at its lowest reachable point. I turned to Hollis; he appeared sick and set to burst from the effort of flight, and I said, “We’re near the town now, friend. Stay with me.” And he nodded but said not a word.

Behind us, and gaining rapidly, we heard and felt the approach of a monstrous Wolf-beast. I doubled my efforts, and Moses his, and Hollis his, for what he could muster, and yet despite it all, I didn't think we were fast enough.

“Please, Jesus,” I heard Moses say under his breath. “Send help.”

And then, just as we began to stumble from exhaustion, the trees began to thin and they began to shorten, and then they broke in their entirety, and we found ourselves trailing our hunters in an open field hit by the end of a moonbeam. The grass fell to dirt, and the dirt swept into a road, and the road, after only the briefest passage, led us into the outskirts of the sprawling town of Moon River. The three of us waved our arms and screamed our warning to the townsfolk.

“HELP US!” Moses shouted. “HELP US, PLEASE!”

And all at once the window lanterns of the town turned on one after another, and residents threw themselves out at the waist and raised up the alarm at our plight, which now was theirs.

“The Coven is upon us!” We heard.

“And the Wolves on with ‘em!”

And then with the shouts came the crack of musketry from the windows facing west, and with that came in turn a howling shout from the Coven. It now raced across the field, not in pursuit of us alone but of the town they had now engaged in their fit of madness, and that now rose up to meet them with all its bullets and all its blades and all its strength of heart.

We broke into the town proper not a minute later, and we did so amongst a fit of chaos that was making its way down to the streets to fight. I could her shouted voices in the houses and shops lining the streets, and the brandishing of leather and metal. There would be a fight tonight. But behind us I also heard the snarl of that damned Wolf-beast, and its thunderous, rolling gallop of a gait. And then I felt its breath on my neck, and the foul stench of it filled my nostrils.

“Please, God,” Moses said, having felt the same thing. “One more.”

And at that moment a man above shouted “Here, man! Take it!” And he threw down his woodman’s axe from the window to the street. It buried its blade in the dirt, and I grabbed the thing by the handle as I ran by it and turned my momentum to a twisting leap, and brought it down on the Wolf’s head with all my strength.

The Wolf-beast howled, and for the quickest, briefest moment I thought I'd dealt the thing at least a wounding blow. But I wasn't quite so lucky; it then stood on its hind legs and bellowed out a roar, and then it swept me to the bricks with its paw. Instantly the wind was knocked out from my lungs and I fell.

“Ferrin!!” Moses shouted from much too far away. The Wolf leapt up - and in that moment time itself seemed to slow - but it never made it to the ground.

In a flash of metal and flesh a horse hit the beast at its full gallop, and together they tumbled away from me, neighing and roaring and with the horse’s rider trying fruitlessly to unsheathe his blade before the weight of the beasts fell on top of him. But then came another horse, and another, and after a charge of fifteen such riders that damned Wolf stayed dead. Those riders then broke out onto the field to engage the Coven.

“Ferrin!” Moses pulled me to my feet. “Are you hurt, sir?”

“I’m fine. But we can't stay here. Hollis! We’ve got to-”

But I stopped when I saw my friend. He’d laid himself out on the cobblestone, with his face to the air and his arms stretched out to his left and to his right, and he struggled mightily to breathe. Moses fled to his side while I limped behind.

“Hollis!” Moses said. Another pair of riders thundered past us and missed Hollis’s boots by a half-inch. Moses turned to me. “He’s collapsed from exhaustion, sir! What do we do?”

“That’s no exhaustion, son. Its something worse.” Hollis’ skin, I’d noted, had turned a sickly color. “Coven bastards must’ve done something to him before we ran. Come on with me; let’s get him help.”

Moses nodded and together, as the cacophony of battle fell around us, we hoisted my friend up to his feet and carried him down the street. Men at arms and militia ran on past us in the other direction.

“Help us!” Moses shouted. “Where’s the surgeon?”

But in the din of chaos not a man heard us nor had time to answer. There were shouted orders, and horseshoe clops on stone, and the ceaseless rustle of blade and metal as Moon River did its damnedest to muster up its defense.

“C’mon, lad.” I adjusted my grip. “C’mon; there’s no help to be found here.”

And so we took him deeper and deeper yet into town, past homes and inns and shops and merchants’ stalls where Papen would’ve sold his wares for a hefty price. But there were no doctors about. And Hollis, for his worth, now dragged his feet behind us and rolled his head with the stepping.

“We’re losing him, sir!”

“I know we’re losing him, dammit. Don’t you think I know that?!”

And behind us, as always, we heard the snarl of Wolves and the cackle of the demon-witches as they bounded off walls and roofs and fell to the men below. Musket shots split the din in passing succession, but by their infrequency it was apparent the men of Moon River were fighting a losing battle against a desperate, monstrous foe. We quickened up our pace. Moses managed to look over his and Hollis’ shoulders.

“Why haven’t they given up the chase?”

“I don’t know, kid. In there. C’mon.” He turned to look in the direction I nodded my head in - a church with its priest on the stoop, blessing the regiments that flew on past to stop the horde. He said his prayers even as he was ignored, but he stopped when he saw us approach.

“Father!” I said, laying Hollis on his back against the red brick of the church wall. “Father, help us. Please.”

And the Priest looked us over, and then turned to Hollis. He drew his lips into a thin line.

“What’s happened to him?”

“We were about to be sacrificed in the woods!” Moses said. “But we escaped, and-”

“You men escaped the Coven’s Supper?!”

“Nevermind that, man,” I said. “We ran from the beasts, and they followed us, but something foul’s taken my friend.” I nodded at Hollis, who coughed up a blackened fluid. His hands had begun to shake and seize. The Priest began to bless Hollis with incantation, and Moses joined in in short order.

“Please, Jesus,” he said. “Please, God, help the man. Show me what to d-”

And at that moment something fell from Hollis’ satchel and tumbled down the steps of the church to the cobblestone below. A small host of hurried men nearly trampled it underfoot.

“What is that?”

“Its the Black Book,” I said. “I saw it in my visions. Some wicked tome, it is; wielded by the Coven to throw my spirit to a trance.” I descended the stairs and moved to grab the thing.

“No!” the Priest shouted. “Don’t touch that evil th-”

But it was too late. My fingertips brushed the binding of the Book, and instantly I was thrown to the cobblestone, and my head pounded and my vision swam, and I could hear myself scream as terrible visions burrowed their way through my mind.

I saw chanting, I saw dancing; I saw that black-red vortex above the sky and the host of demons that flew on through it to steal and to kill and to destroy. Then I saw a man of staggering beauty, blonde and muscular, approach me with a stride and eyes and a smile that smacked of nauseating arrogance. He reached out his hand, and…

“God, help him!” Moses and the Priest grabbed my shoulders and nearly threw me onto the steps of the church. The visions ended instantly.

“Hurts like hell, doesn’t it?” I turned around. Hollis had propped himself up on his elbow.

“Got tired of being carried?” I said to him. “Glad to have you back.”

The Priest, followed by Moses, brought the Book up to us by folding it in his robes. He then dropped the thing on the flat-step in front of the church door and said, “This wicked, monstrous thing; how did you come by it?”

“I took it before we ran,” Hollis said. “Thought it’d piss the bastards off. Looks like I was right about that.”

He nodded towards the far end of the market square, where we saw men running back the way they’d come, towards us, and without their muskets or blades. The line had broken at last. And now a monstrous host followed them close behind.

“We must act quickly,” said the Priest. “They’ve come for the Book; make no mistake about that.”

“So what do you suggest?” I said.

“We burn it.”

The Square descended into madness. Wolf-beasts tore the flesh of the men as they fled, and devoured them whole, and witches, filled up to bursting with Satanic strength, leapt down from the walls they’d climbed upon and tore the poor men down. The Priest, for his credit, sent Moses into the sanctuary to fetch oil. I lit up a match upon his return, and we doused the Black Book and set it to the flame.

“Come on, you bastard. Burn. Burn!” I said. The book at first smoked, and then caught a slight spark in the midst of its canvas, and then it burst into a blue flame. Its edges began to roast, and at the sight of it the witch nearest the scene shrieked in panic and leapt up the stairs on all fours. Hollis knocked her back with a stone throw. But then another witch came, and another, and behind them a Wolf-beast with ropes of spit at its snout. I began to retreat up the stairs along with the Priest, and Hollis prepared to move into the church. Moses, already with his back to the wall of the structure, prayed another prayer.

“Jesus,” he said. “One last time. Help us!”

And at that moment the first of the morning sunbeams peaked over the rooftops behind us and poured out into the square. The stones flushed with red, and then orange, and then bright yellow, and in the light there was a roaring of agony from the Coven. Their advance stopped like stone, and the witches fled without their power, and the Wolf-beasts shrank back into men and fell to the stones before scampering off towards the west. I looked at the source of the smoke.

The Black Book was no more.

For the next day we helped the townsfolk clean up the mess of the slaughter. There were fewer men killed than we’d believed, which is a fortunate enough thing, and far more of the Wolf-men and the witches who, after having their devil’s power bound, were hunted down and butchered in the streets and in the field and in the early depths of the Wood. For some weeks hunting parties were gathered up and dispatched to the clearings my company and I pointed out. The great Pyre was destroyed, and the dead things removed from the trees, and the heads-on-spikes lining those clearings were taken down and buried with honors. Gradually Moon River fell back into its natural rhythm of commerce and bustle. And when it was done, the Priest gave us a final blessing, and then Hollis and myself, with Moses at our side, rode south in search of new things to discover.

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