#altair: shut up you're dead remember

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Writemas Day 15: The Bridge

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Prompts: "Trust me. Trust me. Trust. Me. That's all I ask of you." | A bridge | The prickle of branches against skin

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 1000

Tag List: (message me to be added or removed) @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion @scaewolf

@the-ellia-west @agirlandherquill

CW: swearing, anger, injury, vision

*****

"Thea...." Altair warned, reaching for her arm.

Thea scooted back with a huff, sending glass shards skittering across the floor, and rose, stepping between him, Kore, and the locked trunk. "I," she snapped at the trunk, "have had quite enough of your damned paranoia, Caelum."

While she was speaking, Thea grasped the strands with a firm hand. With a tug from her left hand, she forced them to wrap around the lock, slipping between the minuscule gap between the lid and the body. With the right, she wove a slightly more complex thread, one that appeared to her eyes like a box covering the trunk completely.

Thea clenched her jaw and flicked her left wrist. She didn't see those strands respond to her touch, but the reaction of the barrier she had formed was answer enough. The strands lit up all at once, like an explosion from a firework, and they strained against her grip, desperate for her to let go and allow the energy to go somewhere.

She didn't slacken her grip, and the threads remained glowing for one second.

Two.

Before the third tick of a clock, the light suddenly died, the only evidence of its existence a white smudge in Thea's vision. She quickly blinked the smudge away, waiting another moment before untwisting the threads.

She'd half expected to find nothing left when the box vanished. But Caelum was too clever for that. The trunk remained, its lock broken in two pieces, the floor around it scorched and charred.

"Why..." Altair muttered from behind her, "didn't you just do that in the first place?"

Thea folded her arms. "Because I didn't think it would work."

"You didn't... ugh...."

Wood scraped against glass, and Thea turned to find him trying to pull himself up by the bookcase. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get to my feet."

"After you just got struck by lighting, thrown across the room, and showered in broken glass?" Thea folded her arms and glared at him. "Or did you somehow forget all of that? Need I remind you that the healing threads are incomplete? You still have to heal on your own."

He sighed, lowering himself back into a sitting position. "Yeah, yeah."

"'Incomplete'?" Kore questioned, not moving from the doorway.

"The healing threads are notoriously difficult to twist, even for a master," Altair said quietly, "the Slain rarely use them, being dead and all, so they never bothered to find better threads than the ones they already found: cell regeneration. But it only lasts as long as the thread."

"I see...." Kore sounded skeptical, or perhaps confused, but she didn't pry further.

"I'll be fine for now," Altair reassured Thea. He pointed to the trunk. "What I really want to do is find out what he took such pains to hide."

She exhaled slowly and nodded, turning back to the trunk and kneeling before it. The clasps on either side of the lock were undamaged, so she carefully undid them one at a time.

Click.

Click.

And everything plunged into darkness.

Thea opened her mouth to gasp, to scream, but her mouth didn't move. No sound came out. Her thoughts whirled, faster and faster, trying to justify this new phenomenon. Another trap? What sort of trap was darkness and paralysis? What about---?

Branches brushed against the bare skin of her arm, prickly, like a fir. She realized she was moving. Her feet were walking of their own accord. And her right hand was outstretched, caught in someone else's. She still couldn't see. But soon enough, the darkness lightened, and she took in the vibrant red hues of the firs.

She hadn't seen something like this since... since....

Since Volantis.

This was another memory.

Thea's gaze suddenly sharpened, and she recognized the man who led her through the trees, along a worn path under a dark, starless sky.

Caelum.

But when? Obviously before they left. Thea frowned, trying to place the memory, when the faint sound of rushing water reached her ears.

Oh.

When the bridge came in sight, Caelum looked back at her with the most excited, gleeful expression she'd ever seen on him. Such an expression of joy should have been out of place for her, but right now... it looked right on him.

They stopped in the middle of the simple stone bridge, a river of silver flowing endlessly beneath them. "Do you like it?" Caelum asked earnestly.

Thea let go of his hand to spin in a full circle, awe-struck. "I... wow. How did you find this?"

"On accident," he said casually, that same joy still on his face.

"It's beautiful, Caelum," she whispered, taking his hand, "and I'm glad you shared this with me. But...."

"The Slain?"

"Yes."

His smile faded, and it saddened her to see it go. They didn't have time to indulge in frivolous things. But how she wished she did. "Before you ask any questions," he began, staring out towards the silver river's source, "I have given Altair the exact same amount of information as I give you now. Yes?"

She frowned, but nodded.

He set his jaw. "I have a plan. And for it to work... I need you to trust me."

"Caelum...."

Without warning he turned back to her, looking her in the eye. "Trust me. Trust me. Trust. Me. That's all I ask of you."

"That does not comfort me as much as you seem to think it does. What aren't you telling me?"

Caelum hesitated. "Look, how many of the outcomes we've had together in Volantis have succeeded based on trust?"

Thea sighed, thinking. "A lot," she finally admitted.

"I have a plan Thea. And I'm sorry... so, so sorry... that I can't tell you. All the information I gave you is all the information I can give."

"Altair and I would stop you if we knew, wouldn't we?"

His face hardened into an expression of impassable neutrality. She studied him for a long moment, waiting for the facade to crack. Finally, she relented.

"All right, Caelum. As long as it gets us out of her. As alive as we went in."

"Funny," he stated, face still neutral, "Altair said the exact same thing."

Before Thea could respond, the world plunged into darkness once more.

[noficbyhalves]

Have some "Kadar is thoroughly Done with these two even from beyond the grave":

"Hey! Altair!" called a familiar voice.

He froze, turned. Leaning out of a traincar door was Kadar, waving furiously at him. He was smaller than Altair remembered, but somehow whole and hale. The only way that could be real was if- if he-

Fuck.

"I'm dead, aren't I," were the first words out of his mouth as he walked closer.

"Hello to you too, I've been lovely thanks," Kadar said dryly. The mannerism was achingly familiar, but when Altair tried to remember from what his head only pounded.

"Hi Kadar," he sighed. "Am I dead?"

"Eh, kind of?" Kadar made a so-so gesture. "You're about halfway there. Something about blood ties making curses rebound? Don't ask me, I'm just the messenger."

He had heard all this before, it was on the tip of his tongue. He died because of his grandfather, because of the war, but Altair knew there was something else, something so very important. Why couldn't he remember? Why did the inside of his skull feel so battered? "You're the messenger of... death?"

Kadar laughed. "Not for everyone, silly. It's more of a 'the universe shows you someone you trust to guide you' kind of situation."

And the universe had decided the best guide Altair could hope for was a scrawny fourteen-year-old. It would be funny if it wasn't so sad.

[...]

"You've got two options. You could go back to life and all its complicated bits," Kadar gestured vaguely at the nebulousness behind him on the platform. "Or, you can get on the train and just... let go."

"Give up?"

Kadar's expression was terribly sad. "No one's going to judge you if you want some peace, Altair. You've done plenty, if that's what you're worried about."

Altair couldn't meet his eyes. When put like that, it made perfect sense... and yet. He started walking towards the train. Maybe peace wouldn't be so bad. Kadar was here, he could see Rauf again, he could meet his parents...

Then why was his heart hammering in his chest? Why did he feel sick looking at the train?

Kadar was holding out his hand. Altair lifted his left hand to reach him, glanced down at his fingers.

...his... four fingers.

He had four fingers on that hand, because...

The pain in his head reached a fever pitch. His vision was swimming.

Because of his grandfather, because of the brand on his arm, because because because-

This is perfectly safe and I'm a fucking genius.

Altair sucked in a gasp (had he breathed at all since he opened his eyes?) and jerked his hand back. There was a phantom sensation of a hand on his jaw (only the one), a voice echoing in his ears (wake up you have to Altair please). Kadar smiled, and for once it looked real.

"I can't," Altair croaked.

"I figured. You two sort your shit out yet?"

Altair had no idea how to answer that, even if he could get enough air in his lungs. He stumbled backward, away from the train.

Kadar sighed. "Nevermind. Don't suppose you can pass a message along?"

"Will I remember this... after?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. It's usually more of a one-way situation."

Right. But Altair's wasn't because of blood magic or something. The rules of magic really were bullshit. If he remembered this enough to share, Malik would have a conniption. Altair nodded, "I'll try."

"Tell him I love him, and it's not his fault either."

Altair gaped. "How-"

"I've known him my whole life, and I'm not an idiot?"

The laugh bubbling out of his throat was edging on hysterical. "I- yeah, yeah okay." He turned away, towards the unnerving blankness on the other side of the platform. "How do I-?"

When he glanced over his shoulder, Kadar gave him the world's most exaggerated shrug. Truly unhelpful.

Nothing for it but to do it. Altair shut his eyes and walked into the fog.