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somethingmorecreative1 · 5 years ago

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this is the road to ruin [klance fic]

More than Alive: Chapter 6

VLD zombie apocalypse by @maireep and @somethingmorecreative1

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 || AO3

keith and lance band together, as the only two mildly sane people they’ve met so far and slowly create a strong bond that leaves all of their plans with loose ends as they try to survive and thrive together.

pairing: klance rating: unrated

vi. this is the road to ruin

The shot was still ringing in his ear.

Keith couldn’t see anything. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten here or what was happening. He wasn’t sure he was breathing.

He and Lance had been through hell already. Times had been tough; no one said the apocalypse was easy. But just being with Lance was something, being with someone else was better than being alone and lately… Keith wasn’t sure that he could go back to how it had been before. What did Lance mean to him?

Everything. Lance meant everything to him.

Just kill that one. It’s too damaged now.

Lance’s eyes were closed, though he was obviously fighting to keep them open. Blood was seeping out of the cut on his throat from the knife, but it was pouring from the gunshot in his thigh. If the bullet had hit one of his arteries, Lance would bleed out in the next few minutes, maybe before Keith could even get to him.

Keith thought back to yesterday, in the house with Lance, Pidge, and Artax. Then, being upstairs with Lance. They’d been so close. He’d wanted to say—

The bandit with the sewn mouth raised the rusty pipe and took a step toward Lance, where the other male was still holding him in a headlock.

Keith’s vision tinted red.

He moved before he realized it, launching himself down the stairs at the ugly bandit and thrusting his sword directly through the man’s chest. Keith yanked the sword out of the bandit’s chest and pushed the body to the ground. Blood sprayed his jacket.

“Give him to me and leave us alone,” Keith said, voice nothing short of a growl low in his chest.

“Or what, cowboy?” the woman giggled, twirling the gun in one hand and the machete in her other. She took a step closer. The leader was stepping around him too, trying to circle him. Killing one of their men had done nothing to affect them it seemed.

“I’ll fucking end you,” Keith said, gripping his sword in his hands. He was shaking.

There was a pause, and it was enough time for Keith to feel the leader step up behind him, weapon presumably raised, but Keith dodged the attack and spun, swinging his katana directly toward the man’s neck with every bit of strength he had.

The head hit the ground with a thud and rolled. Blood was everywhere, and the corpse collapsed onto the ground, buckets of gore draining from it and pooling onto the ground of the already disgusting subway.

The other two bandits, the man that was still holding Lance and the woman were staring at him now. He’d taken out half of their group with just two swings of his sword.

The woman hissed at him, like a feral cat, and raised her gun toward his chest, “You’ll die for this.”

Keith was moving before anyone else could. The gun fired, but the bullet missed him. He jumped forward, grabbing the gun and slinging it away, just to get it out of the picture. She swung the machete at him instead, but Keith dodged the blade and shoved her away. Then, he lunged toward the last man and grabbed Lance around the waist. The other man was struggling to keep his grip on Lance as well, but Keith wasn’t going to be the one to lose this fight. He wouldn’t do it.

Keith kept an arm locked around Lance’s waist, and with his other arm, he grabbed the small knife from his pocket and sliced the man’s face. He was too slow this time, and the bandit turned his head and bit Keith’s wrist hard enough to make him bleed. He jerked his arm back, skin tearing from the bandit’s mouth, and then, he raised the knife again.

This time, the bandit was too slow. Keith plunged it into his neck, and finally, finally, the bandit let go of Lance and fell to the ground.

Keith stumbled back, struggling to keep him and Lance both upright. Lance had already passed out, eyes closed, body limp. Keith collected him into his arms and turned to run, but before he could get to the stairs, something jumped up onto his back and he fell.

He pushed Lance as far as he could, trying to at least get him away from the crazy bitch on top of him, and Keith rolled.

Suddenly, the ground disappeared, and they toppled down off the platform and back into the tunnel. Keith fell face first into the rocks, and the bandit woman forced him down further. He felt the gravel digging into his skin, stinging him sharply, and Keith grunted, trying to get her off him before she grabbed a weapon.

The woman was laughing, a hysterical high-pitched trill that was fucking with his head. The sound was horrible; Keith struggled against her, but his limbs were so heavy. He was so tired.

Get up, some part of him whispered. He realized that it sounded like Lance’s voice.

Keith kicked his legs wildly and managed to roll over onto his back, shoving her off when his hands were free. He struggled to get to his feet, but before he could, she tackled him again. They went down in a pile of struggling limbs right next to the tracks.

“Not so fast,” she sang, grabbing for his shoulders and pinning him down face first into the gravel. He was pretty sure he was already bleeding from the cut on his face.

He didn’t have a weapon. He’d left his knife embedded in the male bandit’s neck, and the body was too far for him to get it now. His sword was on his back behind him, but there was no way for him to reach it; the woman was frantically grappling for his neck, trying to get a steady hold on him. Between the grip she had on his shoulder and the one on his neck, she shoved him forward, pulling him through the disgusting gravel toward the track.

Keith’s eyes widened, and he panicked as he realized what she was trying to do, when he felt the heat coming off the track that must have somehow managed to keep its electric charge despite the end of the world.

He struggled harder, kicking at her and grabbing for her hands, but he couldn’t reach her. Her grip was too tight, and the way that she was squeezing his neck made it hard to breath.

The track loomed in front of him. They crept closer. Less than a step to it now.

“The end, cowboy,” the woman laughed, dragging him forward until he was right above the track. She took her hand off his neck and shoved his head down until the right side, the already injured side, of his face connected with the burning metal.

He started screaming. The pain was blinding as she held him to the track, and he could smell the way that the heated metal was burning his flesh.

Think, think, think! Get it together, Keith! Do something! The voice in his head that sounded a lot like Lance was begging him to focus, to do something, but Keith could hardly hear it over his own screaming.

He tried to focus. He had to get them out of here. He had to beat this.

Keith gasped hard through his scream, fighting to take a breath.

He thought about Lance, all alone up there on the platform, bleeding out. If he didn’t make it back to get him, Lance would either die of his injuries or the walkers would catch up eventually. They had to be getting close by now.

The image was enough to make Keith move despite the agony he was in. The woman was still pressing him down, hands on his neck and shoulder, knees on his back.

Keith reached backward, struggling to grab her wrist. His shoulder strained uncomfortably, but he hooked his fingers around her arm, squeezed, and twisted downward with all the strength he had left.

The bones splintered and cracked under his grip, and the woman started screaming. She tumbled off him, and Keith surged up, pushing himself away from the track and to his feet. She was scrambling backwards, still in the gravel, and Keith stalked her.

As he reached up to draw his sword, another weapon appeared.

A walker stumbled out of the dark tunnel.

It had probably been prompted by the noise they were making during the fight. The undead body was so grotesque that Keith couldn’t tell what it had been before this, but it didn’t matter. It was hobbling toward them, reaching out for them, and Keith didn’t know what it made him, but he smiled when he saw it.

Before he could really think about it, Keith lunged forward and grabbed the woman by the shoulders. Her arm was mangled; Keith hadn’t realized how much damage he did to it, but he didn’t care. He forced the woman to her feet and shoved her back.

“Where are you taking—”

The walker behind them let out a steady moan, and the woman’s eyes filled with rage.

“Your friend won’t make it anyway, cowboy,” she spit. “He’ll die before you can get back to him. You’ll go to hell for what you’ve done.”

She was clawing at his arms now, gripping onto him as they struggled. He pushed forward, and the walker was right behind them. One of her hands caught the end of Keith’s hair.

The walker’s hand gripped her shoulder beside Keith’s. As it started to lean in, he growled, “Then I’ll see you there,” and shoved her forward into its arms.

She screamed in agony as the walker bit down on her neck. Blood sprayed, but Keith was already moving. She screamed and screamed and screamed as Keith sprinted back for the platform, boosted himself up, and rolled to his feet, already running.

Deeper in the tunnel, Keith could hear the signs of the horde they’d been outrunning earlier. The noise of the fight had probably brought them closer, and they didn’t have much time at all. Keith had left three bodies on the platform, and hopefully, they would slow the first of the horde for them to at least get a head start.

Keith sprinted toward Lance and scooped him up into his arms, making a break for the stairs. He spotted Lance’s bag there at the bottom of the flight, and he managed to grab it on his way up, juggling Lance long enough to get the strap in his hand before he took off again. His arms were already shaking, and his legs, lungs, and head ached, but he couldn’t stop now. He hauled ass, taking the stairs three at a time, clutching Lance in his arms and praying that the bodies he’d left at the platform would be enough for the walkers.

The light at the literal end of the tunnel was welcome, and when Keith hit the last step, finally making it to the street, his knees buckled.

“Fuck,” Keith growled, pushing himself back to his feet. The growling and howling from the subway below them were loud. He wasn’t sure how much longer he had before the horde—or any other—would be after them.

He got back to his feet, clutching Lance to him, hands slick with blood. Keith looked down to him, where Lance’s eyes were closed; his face was slack, expressionless, pale. The cut on his neck was still bleeding, and it was deeper than Keith first thought, and his leg—

Just looking at him made Keith’s knees give out again.

He collapsed onto the pavement, cradling Lance in his arms as he fell. He pressed back against the wall, frantically scanning the street for any walkers. Miraculously, there were none. For now.

“What do I do,” Keith muttered, adjusting his hold on Lance. “Lance, what do I do?”

Something dripped down his face.

The street was empty, until the next horde moved through. Keith wasn’t sure where Lance had been taking them when they went down into the subway, and because of it, he had no idea where they were. He didn’t know where anything was, where he might find something, or someone, to help Lance.

He was all alone.

Another tear rolled down his cheek.

It was getting hard to breathe. It felt like something was pressing down onto his chest. He needed to do something right now. Lance was unconscious, probably bleeding out in his arms right now. Keith was holding onto him as he slipped away.

He couldn’t do this alone. He wouldn’t.

“Okay,” Keith grunted, carefully shifting Lance down onto the ground. He was bleeding so much already but—Keith had to do something before they could move. He wasn’t going to be able to get anywhere with this much blood anyway; the walkers would smell them eventually, if they didn’t already.

He grabbed Lance’s bag and dumped out the contents onto the street, praying there would be something in it to work with and help him help Lance. Two beers, a lighter, a handful of pill bottles, a couple of packages of food, two water bottles, a semiautomatic rifle and pistol, and Lance’s jacket scattered across the pavement. No bandages, no extra material, no magic medical device to save the day, nothing.

“Okay, that’s fine, we can still do this,” Keith muttered it to himself, pushing most of the supplies back into the bag. He took everything except the beer because—it was too heavy, and Keith needed every last advantage that he had right now.

Keith ripped his jacket off and pulled his t-shirt over his head, ripping it into strips to tie around Lance’s thigh. The material was already soaked, but he carefully put more and more onto the wound, hoping that it would do until they could get somewhere safer. And until Keith thought of something better, of something that would save Lance.

But this was all he had right now. These t-shirt scraps soaked in blood.

The soundtrack of the apocalypse, the tell-tale moaning and groaning that triggered any sort of ending, came back, louder than before, and Keith looked up to see the first of the walkers stumbling up out of the subway entrance toward them.

Keith cursed and grabbed his sword and Lance’s bag, slipping them over his bare chest so they rested against his back. Then, he slipped his arms around Lance, one under his knees and the other around his back, hoisting the other boy’s body into his arms as he stumbled to his feet.

He rounded the corner, dodged a walker that reached out to grab him, and started running.

;;

When Keith first met Lance, everything had already been so fucked up that he hadn’t expected much of anything anymore.

His entire life up until that point had been a shitshow anyway. His mom left, Shiro left, and his dad all but checked out of his life. He’d had no one and nothing. Then, the world ended, and even though he got his dad back for a little bit, it didn’t matter in the end. Everyone was still gone, and Keith was still alone.

Then, Lance opened the door of an old semi-truck and jumped onto the back of his horse. He’d elbowed his way into Keith’s life more forcefully than anyone had before.

Even Lance left, though. For a minute.

It’d been hell, those few hours between Lance leaving and Keith finding him again. But then he was back, apologizing for leaving, and folding his own life right into Keith’s.

Somewhere along the way, Keith had fallen in love with Lance.

It was of no surprise to him whatsoever. Lance was the most beautiful person Keith had ever seen, apocalypse or not, and he was kind, sarcastic, good with a gun, and a handful sometimes. Lance was the only person in Keith’s life to ever come back for him, to come back to be with him. In any capacity.

The past few weeks had been the best of Keith’s life. He’d prefer running through streets filled with horrible hordes of the walking dead if it meant that Lance would be right there with him. He’d fight monsters every day for as long as he was breathing as long as it meant that Lance wouldn’t go anywhere, as long as it meant that he’d be with him for as long as the universe allowed it.

That bet with the universe must have come to an end though, and it was right at the time that Keith thought something great might have started.

;;

Keith was tired. He’d been running for—he didn’t know how long.

He had started coughing what felt like hours ago. He didn’t think he was getting enough oxygen at this point. He was clutching Lance in his arms, holding onto him, and the only thing he could think about was pushing himself to move faster, hold Lance tighter, keep them alive longer.

Keith didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t have any sort of answers. He’d run out of tears miles back.

He didn’t know if Lance was even still alive, from where he was carrying him in his arms. He figured he’d find out if—when the body woke up and bit him.

That would be the end that he got. He would either get them out of this, save them, keep Lance alive, or he would just wait until Lance came back for him. Keith wasn’t sure if he believed in any sort of afterlife, so if this was the best he got, then fuck, he’d take it. It wouldn’t be Lance, but it would be better than a random walker finally taking him down.

For now, he kept running.

;;

Keith turned the corner of a street and ran straight into a group of walkers.

He turned back, stumbling, but keeping himself upright as he dodged the groaning, reaching hands. He crossed the street and turned down another alley, only to run into another group.

Fuck.

Lance twitched in his arms.

Fuck.

Keith didn’t let himself look down. He promised that he’d keep going. Lance had called him a hero, had said that he always got them out of trouble. He had to do it again. He had to keep going.

He pivoted, turning back and sprinting for the last street, the last option. He made a hard left, spinning around the brick siding of a building and thankfully, the street before him was empty.

But the walkers were still behind him. Keith could hear them, following, catching up to him. They would no doubt attract the sound of a larger horde, one with sprinters and crawlers and the other nightmares that Keith didn’t have a chance of fighting off by himself, not while he was carrying Lance with him.

If he was going to do something, it had to be done right now.

Keith made another turn, this time onto a bigger, four lane road. It was full of trash and debris, random cars that were pushed off to the side, like someone from after all this had moved them. About a hundred yards away, a Humvee sat that hadn’t been ruined, that looked like it might still run.

Keith nodded to himself. This was it. Last chance. He had to make this work.

He dug in, found some last pocket of strength that he hadn’t know about as he clutched Lance and kept running. He sprinted past open alleys, past walkers that stumbled out toward him, past bodies that littered the ground already, both burned and eaten.

He was within just a few yards of the Humvee when he was stopped.

“Stop right there!”

Keith slowed, spinning toward the voice.

It was a man. In military fatigues.

Keith blinked, hard. Again.

“Keith?”

He shook his head. He didn’t understand what was happening.

The man took a few steps closer, and Keith stepped back. None of this made any sense. None of this was real. This wasn’t—couldn’t be happening.

Lance moved in his arms again, and this time, Keith couldn’t help it. He looked.

His eyes were open. Keith could barely see the blue slits, but he was awake. Lance was alive.

A loud, distant roar was building. It was familiar. The sound of a horde, complete with screamers and runners, and if they were in the middle of the city like Keith expected, there was no telling exactly how many it would be. There would be no way to fight out of this.

“Get in the Humvee.”

Keith looked back up. Shook his head again.

“If you want to stay alive,” Shiro said, this Shiro with white hair and a scarred nose, “get in the fucking Humvee, Keith.”

;;

He couldn’t breathe.

The Shiro in front of him was different than the last one he had seen. It had been years though, and Keith guessed that people changed.

He wasn’t sure this was real.

“Let’s go!” Shiro shouted, making his way toward the Humvee. The street was already filling with walkers, and the longer they waited, the closer the hordes came.

Even if this wasn’t real, Keith was out of options.

He nodded and ran to the other side of the Humvee, where Shiro had already thrown the door open for him and was waiting to pull him in. Keith wasn’t sure how he got inside with Lance still in his arms, but the next second he was in the Humvee, Shiro was closing the door, and cranking the engine just as a walker pounded on the glass of the door.

The Humvee lurched as Shiro pressed it forward, and Keith tightened his grip on Lance, who’s eyes had closed again. He was pale, and the makeshift bandages that he’d wrapped around the wound were dripping with blood. Keith rearranged him, pressing him further into his body so he could reach for Lance’s neck, to feel the faint, but still-there pulse.

He brushed his hand over Lance’s hair, and when he pulled away, he was covered in blood. Keith hadn’t seen him hit his head but—everything had happened so fast, and the blood must be coming from somewhere.

Dread cinched his chest.

“I need you to help me,” Keith choked. He wasn’t sure who he was talking to.

“Who is that?” Shiro asked, glancing over to him, frowning. “What the hell is happening? How did you get here? And what happened to your face?”

“He can’t die, okay?” Keith said, voice wrecked. He felt ruined. “He just—he can’t die. Please, Shiro, please.”

“I’m not going to let him die. I—I’m going to get us there as fast as I can.”

Keith wanted to ask where it was that Shiro was taking them, but he wasn’t sure that any of this was real in the first place. He wasn’t sure that he and Lance had made it out of the subway together now that he thought about it. In fact, he wasn’t even sure that he’d been close to DC weeks ago, when he’d first seen Lance at all.

How had he made it off the ranch again? There had been so many walkers that day.

Was this really happening? Why couldn’t he remember anything?

“Hey,” Shiro snapped, looking over to him quickly from where he was still driving. “Get it together, Keith. You’re going into shock. Breathe. You have to keep breathing.”

Keith shook his head. Was any of this real?

“Talk to me,” Shiro pleaded. “C’mon. It’s me. We’re going to save your friend, but you have to talk to me. You have to stay focused.”

Focused on what? Keith thought. Lance was the only thing worth focusing on.

He’d come so close to telling Lance earlier, when they were in that shitty, run down grocery store where they’d stopped to take a break. Keith had been looking for anything that might be useful when Lance had started the music, and he’d been looking at Keith with those big blue eyes already, saying all of these things that he wasn’t saying aloud, and when it ended, he’d seemed sad. Keith honestly hadn’t been able to help it when they’d been in the alley together. Realistically, he could remember thinking that he should stop, that it was no place for him to tell Lance what he was thinking, about how much he loved him, but Keith had never been one to stop his impulses. The apocalypse hadn’t helped that situation at all.

But he didn’t get the chance. Instead, he and Lance had been forced to run, and then, the subway.

And now, this.

“Where are we going?” Keith choked the question out. He kept staring at Lance.

“Back to base,” Shiro answered. “We have a doctor there. They can help.”

The ride was long, but Keith’s sense of time was fucked anyway. He didn’t know how much time had passed since all of this started; he just knew that the more of it that went by, the less likely Lance would be to survive.

The Humvee slowed, and Keith looked up from Lance to see them nearing a fence. Beyond the fence, there was a large set of buildings, like some sort of old military base or compound. It was big, and it looked like it was still operational even now. The fence was pulled open by two people, and Shiro drove the Humvee through the gap and up into an open garage, yards behind another fence that was already open.

Shiro opened the door of the Humvee as soon as it was parked, yelling, “Get a fucking stretcher! Get Coran! Hurry!”

Keith didn’t know what to do.

His door opened a second later, and he jumped down, legs and arms trembling, but still holding onto Lance tightly. Shiro was there then, guiding him over to where two people, a man and a woman, brought a stretcher into the garage.

Keith hesitated.

“Put him down, Keith,” Shiro said. “We need to get him to Coran.”

Keith looked down at Lance again, an utter mess in his arms.

He took a step and leaned forward, carefully placing Lance onto the stretcher.

It rolled away as soon as Keith let go, and he panicked, grabbing his katana from the sheath on his back and pulling it up to—

“No, Keith!” Shiro yelled, jumping forward and grabbing him, forcing his arms back down so he couldn’t get his weapon out. “They’re taking him to Coran. They can help him, okay?”

“I can’t leave him,” Keith said, staring after the stretcher, where Lance disappeared deeper into this unknown building with these strange people.

“Okay,” Shiro nodded frantically, still gripping his arms. “Okay, we can go with them, but you can’t have your weapon out. You have to stay calm.”

Keith wasn’t sure that calm was a word in his vocabulary at all.

Shiro must have decided it was okay because after a few seconds, he turned and jogged after the people with the stretcher, motioning for Keith to follow.

He did, and they jogged through a door and then down a long hallway. It was empty, all blank white walls that looked like they hadn’t been disturbed at all. Shiro turned left, took them through a gate, then another, and Keith really tried to keep up with where he was going and how to get out of here, but he wasn’t sure that he would be able to even find his way out now.

He was wheezing, lungs aching. His body didn’t feel right.

Finally, they turned into a room off one of the long hallways.

There were four people in the room already, gathered around the stretcher that Lance was on. The man and woman from before, who had rolled him away, and then another man and woman as well. The man was wearing a white coat and a pair of gloves, and he had a large mustache from where he was already looking at the cut on Lance’s neck. The woman was undoing the t-shirt bandages Keith had haphazardly fixed around the gunshot wound on Lance’s thigh. Her silver hair was tied into a tight ponytail, and her eyes were sharp when she looked up to see them.

“Shiro,” her voice was strong too, “what have you done?”

“It’s my brother,” Shiro replied, and hearing the words come out of Shiro’s mouth was weird. “This is Keith. I found him on the street with—carrying whoever this is.”

“What happened to him?” the woman asked, shifting her gaze to Keith.

He made his voice steady, “Bandits. We were in the subway. They grabbed him before I could do anything. I got us out but—you can save him, right?”

“We can try, my friend,” the man with the mustache, and a thick Aussie accent, said. “Do you know his blood type?”

Keith shook his head.

“Alright, we’ll need to use some of our universal stock then,” the man said. “We’ll do a transfusion and get started on stitching his leg up. We need to start an IV now and prepare for surgery.”

It was a long while before there was any news. Thankfully, Shiro and the others didn’t make him leave. Instead, he stood there, in that room, watching as these strangers worked over Lance. They removed most of his clothes, since they were covered in guts and blood anyway, and cleaned up his skin after they had removed the bullet and stitched up his thigh. Finally, they seemed to pull away from Lance, after they had finished, after it had been hours.

Keith never moved.

They had hooked Lance up to several different machines. One that was beeping with his heart rate, which honestly made Keith feel better just hearing it. Then, there was an oxygen mask sitting on his nose and over his mouth. He still had an IV in one of his arms, and they were giving him blood in his other and—

He looked so still. Keith wanted to be sick.

“Alright, my boy,” the accented, mustached man started, “it looks like your friend is going to be just fine. We’ve got a steady heartbeat on him now, and his leg should heal right up in the next few weeks. From what we can tell, the head injury isn’t as bad as it could have been. We put in a couple of stitches to stop the bleeding, and there doesn’t seem to be any swelling. You’re lucky you got here when you did. Any longer, and we might be having a different conversation.”

Keith felt like he might collapse into himself with the news. He brought his hands up to his face and just swayed there, wondering if he would be next to pass out. The wound on his face was stinging, Keith thought absently. It had been the first time he’d felt it since he’d been back in the subway.

“Thank you,” he finally choked the phrase out, bringing his hands back down to his sides. “Thank you. I can never repay you for this.”

“No worries, lad,” the man said cheerfully. “Any friend of Shiro’s is a friend of ours.”

“Yes,” the woman said, coming around to stand in front of them. “And you said he’s your brother, Shiro?”

Shiro nodded, gesturing to him, “Yes. This is Keith.”

“Keith,” the woman repeated, looking him up and down. “I’m Allura, and this is my uncle, Coran. How did you find Shiro?”

“I didn’t,” Keith cleared his throat. “He found me.”

“What are you doing all the way up here?” Shiro asked, tone turned frantic again. “What happened to the ranch? And Dad?”

Keith really didn’t want to do this right now, but there wasn’t much choice. These people had just saved Lance. Keith owed them everything he had.

“The ranch was overrun, and Dad didn’t make it,” Keith said it as flat as he could. “I came all this way, and a few weeks ago, I was probably 50 miles from here, when I ran into—when Lance found me. I was looking for you, but he told me that DC was a mess, so we headed West then, looking for his friend. We ran into a girl named Pidge who was looking for her brother, and we volunteered to help her, which is how we ended up in the city—”

“Hold up,” Shiro interrupted, and his eyes were wide. “Did you say a girl named Pidge?”

“Yeah,” Keith nodded. “She wanted help trying to find her brother. Said that he might still be alive as of five days ago. Lance and I volunteered to go look for him.”

“Where is she now?”

Keith frowned, “Why does it matter?”

“Her brother’s name is Matt, right?”

“How did you know—”

“Because he’s here, and he’s been looking for her too.”

;;

“Keith, you need to let Allura and Coran check on you.”

He pulled the shirt over his head and grabbed his new black jacket, shoving his arms through it and adjusting the collar before putting his sword back over his chest. They’d given him new clothes since his had been wrecked. He mourned the loss of his jacket, left back on whatever street he’d abandoned it on, and his red, camel boots, which were too disgusting for him to keep. Now, looking in the mirror that hung in the bathroom where Keith was changing, you couldn’t even tell that he’d come up from Texas. Lance was always teasing him about being a cowboy, but now, Keith looked like the exact opposite. He was fitted completely in black, black pants, t-shirt, combat boots, and a black jacket. He wasn’t sure where these clothes had come from, but it was better than nothing.

He looked like a completely different person. The scar that stretched across the right side of his face didn’t help.

Fuck, he even felt like a completely different person. Something was changing, but he wasn’t sure what it was just yet.

“I’m fine,” Keith said, frowning at Shiro in the mirror. “We need to get Pidge.”

“You’re exhausted. You looked like you were going to die when I found you and—”

Keith didn’t think he could stand hearing Lance’s name come from Shiro’s mouth.

“I said that I’m fine,” Keith repeated. “Pidge is out there waiting. I’m going to get her. You can come if you want.”

“I’m not letting you go alone.”

Keith turned to face him. “Then why are we still standing here?”

;;

The ride with Shiro was awkward and confusing. They left immediately, as soon as Keith had finished getting dressed. They had seen Allura again, who had nodded to them and given Keith two guns—a handgun and a semiautomatic rifle—before nodding them off and asking them to be safe. She seemed stern. Even though she couldn’t be much older than Keith himself, she seemed like she was years older, like she’d seen things that made her into the leader she acted like.

Keith and Shiro left in the same Humvee. Now that he knew Lance was safe and that everything was going to be okay, he was able to pay more attention to what was happening. The compound that they must have taken over was obviously military. It had the gear and the resources that only the U.S. government would have had by the time everything in DC went to hell. There were also a lot of extra people at the base that he’d seen so far, and Keith assumed that most of them were originally military, maybe a few stragglers from the road like him and Lance, but not many.

“You said that you met, um, Lance on the road? Somewhere close to here?”

Shiro broke the silence with the question, and Keith had been right earlier. He didn’t like hearing Lance’s name come out of Shiro’s mouth.

This was all—so crazy. Weeks ago, he’d been so close to here. He’d been looking for Shiro, and there hadn’t been any signs. And now? He just runs into him on the fucking street in the middle of the end of the world?

“Why didn’t you come to the ranch?” Keith asked instead, because now that he was thinking about it, he was really fucking pissed at Shiro. “You had to have known that things were going bad. You could have come in time.”

Shiro grit his teeth and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I wanted to. I tried, but they assigned me to a mission.”

“So a mission was more important than me?”

“Of course not, Keith, but I couldn’t just blow it off. It was—Coran and Allura were sent here after the virus hit Europe because they’d heard rumors about creating a vaccine. The president put me and the rest of my unit on security detail at the compound, and then the virus hit North America,” he explained.

“Fuck the president,” Keith growled, “and fuck you. You just left me there.”

“Goddammit, Keith!” Shiro shouted, pounding the Humvee’s steering wheel, but keeping his eyes on the road in front of them. “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you know how fucking guilty I feel about it? I thought of you every fucking day, leaving you there with him and after Mom… I was stupid. I took that job and just left you there when you were a kid and I didn’t think about anything else and I’m fucking sorry.”

Keith was silent. Shiro was breathing hard.

“I’ve been thinking about it for years,” Shiro continued, voice rough but quiet at the same time. “I wanted to come back and get you. I should have. I was wrong, and I left you there. I’m sorry.”

There was a long pause. The Humvee roared underneath them. Keith didn’t know what he was thinking.

They travelled in silence for a few miles.

Outside the Humvee, the road grew rougher. There was more debris and trash on the route they had chosen to get around the city to the side where Pidge was supposed to be waiting with Artax. Shiro was driving slower to accommodate the burned and wrecked cars that littered the roads, and Keith spotted the occasional walker stumbling among the wreckage.

“Things were bad, when you left,” Keith said, voice quiet too. “I was alone. I had Artax and that was all. You’d call, and I’d pretend everything was fine, but when I hung up the phone, everything was a lie. Dad was a mess. And then the whole fucking world ended and you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said again.

“Dad did get better, right at the end,” Keith said it because he thought Shiro should know that it hadn’t been all bad. “He stopped drinking and—it was like when we were really little, remember? Things were good until the ranch was overrun. That’s when I left to find you.”

Shiro was quiet too, for a minute. Then he said, “By yourself?”

“Me and Artax.”

“You rode all the way to Virginia on Artax?”

“Who do you think Pidge is waiting with?” Keith cracked a smile, and the expression felt weird on his face. It pulled at the wound uncomfortably.

Shiro actually laughed, “Holy shit.”

The silence between them shifted from the tense, guilt-ridden conversation they were having to a softer, easier place. Keith stared out the window, trying to figure out how any of this was happening. Lance was okay. Shiro had found him.

How was his life real?

“I’m glad you found me,” Keith said exactly what he was thinking because who knew how much time he’d have left anyway? “If you hadn’t helped me, Lance would—we’d be dead. So. Thank you.”

Shiro nodded carefully, “I just—still can’t believe it honestly. I guess it was the universe working in our favor for once, huh?”

“I guess so.”

The Humvee roared underneath them as they continued down the road.

“But seriously,” Shiro said suddenly, “who’s Lance?”

“He’s… I met him on the road.”

Shiro didn’t answer, but when Keith looked over to him, there was a small smile biting at his lips.

“Shut up, Shiro.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he laughed, turning the wheel of the Humvee up onto another highway and avoiding the wreckage on the ramp. “This is going to be fun though.”

“What is?”

“Watching you deal with whatever it is you have going with Lance.”

Keith rolled his eyes, even though his face heated and his heart sped up. He didn’t want to tell Shiro how right he was but—well, he was right.

They had probably made it half an hour from the compound now. Pidge was supposed to be waiting on the other side of DC from where the compound was situated since he, Lance, and Pidge had come from the opposite direction. But, according to Shiro’s directions, they should be getting closer to her location.

“Oh fuck,” Shiro cursed, pumping the brakes on the Humvee. Keith looked up to find the road blocked by two different cars and an overturned bus.

Shiro slowed the Humvee and stopped, cutting the engine. He pulled the map out, and Keith leaned over to look as well. They were only about a mile from where the rendezvous point with Pidge was supposed to be, and they were probably far enough outside of the city to avoid the hordes and most of the bigger crowds of walkers. Plus, they had weapons and supplies this time. From what Keith had just done, this seemed easy.

“Alright, c’mon,” he finally said, reaching down and grabbing the backpack Allura had given him. “We can walk the rest of the way and get Pidge.”

Shiro hesitated, looking around them carefully. He said, “We don’t know what’s ahead. If we double back and cut off the highway—”

“We don’t know what’s that way either,” Keith replied. “It could be worse, but we do know that it’s only a mile from here to Pidge and then a mile back. We’ve got weapons, we’ve got the map, and we’ve got supplies. It’s our best chance.”

“We should be careful,” Shiro argued. “We should try to get the Humvee as close as possible. We need to make it back to the compound in one piece.”

“Obviously,” Keith said, rolling his eyes. “Lance is there. I almost fucking died trying to get him there, and I’m not planning on dying now before I get to see him again.”

“Aww.”

Keith huffed, opening his door, “Jesus, shut up. Let’s go.”

He jumped out of the Humvee and landed on the pavement, shifting his katana to his back and pulling the rifle forward, easing off the safety. There weren’t any walkers that he could see, so he carefully shut his door and moved around to the front of the Humvee.

Shiro met him at the front, and he had his gun out as well. He motioned forward, and Keith took point, walking toward the wreckage in front of them.

They moved quickly and quietly through the overturned cars and debris on the highway. It was quiet around them, almost to the point of it being stifling, but Keith would take the quiet over anything else that could happen at this point. Trash littered the street, and it blew in the soft wind that overtook the edge of the city. In the distance, Keith would see plumes of smoke coming from the skyline that was downtown. Keith winced at the thought of more bandits and hoped that Pidge had enough sense to wait for them at the rendezvous point they had agreed on. If she wasn’t there, Keith didn’t know what they would do.

Few walkers lingered on the streets, but Keith dealt with them silently. The quieter they could be, the faster and easier they could get this done.

It took about fifteen minutes for them to get a mile down the highway. Keith remembered leaving Pidge here this morning. He couldn’t believe it’d only been a few hours when it seemed like a fucking lifetime ago.

“This is the place,” Shiro murmured, reaching for the map he’d folded in his pocket.

“She probably found somewhere to hunker down and wait,” Keith replied, looking around. There weren’t many buildings very close to them now, but Pidge wouldn’t have just waited out in the open. She would have found a place to wait and watch—

“There,” Keith nodded and pointed to a building a few hundred yards off the highway. It was a few stories high, so it would be easy to find a place and keep watch for when they came back.

Shiro nodded, “Good eye. Lead the way.”

They moved toward the building, pushing past the rotten cars and over the side railing into the grass. A few bodies littered the ground, but they looked old, like they’d been killed long ago. Keith scanned the area as they approached the building. Everything was all quiet.

It only took a few minutes to cross the empty space and get to the building. Shiro waved him off and went first, opening the door and stepping in with his rifle ready.

Keith wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the utter silence that echoed through the building as they stepped inside. It was completely empty, save for the destroyed furniture and blood and gore covered walls. It was a lot like most other buildings; something horrible had happened here to someone else. It was an interesting and terrifying thing to think about. Everywhere they went, everywhere they looked, every walker that they killed had been someone else that was just trying to get through this world too.

He didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to find Pidge and Artax and get back to Lance.

Together, he and Shiro made it through the building. They crossed the floors one by one, going up the staircases carefully and quietly. They didn’t encounter anyone on the first, second, or third floor. They found one walker on the fourth that had been trapped in a closet, and the fifth was their last hope. If Pidge wasn’t here, they’d have to start over.

Shiro glanced at him and nodded before opening the door to the fifth floor.

It looked much like the others. It had obviously been an office building before the apocalypse, and this floor had the same overturned furniture covered in the same gore that coated the rest of the surfaces in the building. Papers and trash littered the floor, and when Keith and Shiro moved into the main floor, they heard a door close somewhere on the floor.

Keith frowned, and they moved forward.

It was quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that took up too much space. Keith knew they were walking toward something, and he desperately hoped it was Pidge. Even still, he couldn’t make himself call her name to see.

Shiro turned down the hallway, where all of the doors were open except for the corner office. He jerked his head, and Keith followed.

When they got to the closed door, Keith raised his gun, and Shiro gripped the doorknob, pausing for a second before throwing it open.

A shotgun cocked, breaking the overwhelming silence, and all Keith could see was the cold metal of the barrel he was suddenly staring down.

Then, “Keith?”

He looked farther, and there was Pidge.

He smiled, dropping his gun, “Hey.”

She dropped the shotgun and threw herself forward, right into his arms. Keith swept his arms around her, holding her close, feeling relieved that he’d found her and terrified that they’d left her by herself all at once.

Pidge pushed back, still gripping Keith’s arms in her hands, “Where’s Lance? And who’s that? What happened to your face?”

Keith nodded, “We got into some trouble and—Lance got really hurt. It was bad. I didn’t think we’d make it. We’d run out of options when Shiro found me. He took us back to the military compound that he’s from, and the doctor saved Lance from dying. Lance is there now, but I had to come back and get you.”

Pidge’s eyes were wide. “But he’s going to be okay?”

Shiro interrupted, “Lance is going to be fine. He’s resting now. We came to get you as soon as we could.”

“Is Artax okay?” Keith asked, glancing around the room. He didn’t see her.

“Oh!” Pidge stepped behind the door and pulled Artax out, and Keith smiled, stepping further into the room.

Artax rushed for him, nickering softly and pushing her nose against his face. He laughed, reaching up to grab her face. Something inside him settled. Lance was going to be fine. Pidge and Artax were alive. They were together. He even had Shiro back.

Shiro appeared at his side, brushing his hand over Artax’s side. He said, “I can’t believe you brought her all the way here.”

“She kept me alive most of the time,” Keith replied.

“How does this guy know Artax?”

“Oh,” Keith glanced back over to Pidge. “He’s my brother.”

Pidge stared.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. “It’s been crazy.”

A few seconds of silence passed. Pidge was biting her lip and shifting uneasily when she asked, voice shaking, “So you didn’t find Matt?”

Keith nodded again, “I found him, yeah. He’s at the military compound that Shiro took us too. He’s there right now.”

Tears pooled in Pidge’s eyes, “He is?”

“Yes,” Shiro replied. “He’s been looking for you. He was getting ready to leave to try and find you. I was going to go with him to help. That’s actually what I was doing when I found Keith and Lance, scouting parts of the city before we moved the search wider. Matt’s at the compound waiting on us to get back.”

Pidge was crying now, holding her hands to her face and sobbing, her entire body shaking with it. Keith reached out and set a hand on her shoulder, trying to be comforting but not overwhelming. He hadn’t even been looking for Shiro this time but—he understood.

Finally, Pidge looked up, eyes red, and said, “Can we go now?”

“Hell yeah we can,” Keith replied, reaching up for Artax’s reins.

;;

The following days were so different than the ones he had experienced since the apocalypse that it made his head spin. He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.

For one thing, it was a living hell because Lance hadn’t woken up yet. Every day that he remained asleep was fucking torture to Keith. Even though Coran, Allura, Shiro, and plenty of others had assured him that the longer Lance slept the better, he still didn’t like it. Something felt unfinished without Lance here. Something felt incomplete, wrong, ruined without Lance being awake.

Naturally, Keith (being the masochist that he was) remained seated by Lance’s bedside for two days. On the third, much like the others, Shiro came into the room, followed closely by Pidge, and asked him to help out around the compound. Keith stared at Lance, imagined him frowning at him, teasing him for sitting here pouting, and got to his feet.

He’d been gripping his katana in his hands the entire two days, so he might as well check to make sure this place was secure before Lance woke up. He’d need to know what it was like, if it was going to be safe for them to stay here. Hopefully it would last long enough for Lance to recover safely.

Pidge smiled at him as he agreed. He had been seeing a lot of her smiles lately, it seemed like. After he and Shiro brought her back to the compound, she had been reunited with her brother, Matt, another scientist that had worked for the government before everything fell. Even Keith had gotten a little choked at the scene, especially the way that Pidge had hugged Matt and didn’t let go.

Shiro had set his hand on his shoulder and smiled at him, and Keith couldn’t wait for Lance to wake up.

It had been a good day around the compound when they’d brought Pidge back safe and sound. Shiro had introduced him around, in the few minutes between them getting back and Keith storming off to start his vigil at Lance’s side. He would admit that he hadn’t been paying the most attention to it; he really had no idea who anyone was. The few people he’d spoken to were people he vaguely recognized that came in to check on Lance, including Coran and Allura, and then Shiro and Pidge who would alternate in sitting with him and Lance for a while. The company was nice, but it put him on edge more often than not.

Shiro put him and Pidge on duty to take stock and sort weapons. It was a good afternoon. Pidge talked to him quietly, telling him about life around the compound and what Matt had been up to while he was looking for her. She seemed happy here, and a strange pang of sadness swept through his chest at the thought of Lance not knowing they’d found Pidge’s brother.

Yet, Keith reminded himself. Lance would be awake any minute now. Coran had assured him of it.

“I think Lance is going to like it here,” Pidge said suddenly, when the conversation lulled between them. It was like she had been reading his mind.

“Yeah?” Keith asked because honestly, he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

She nodded, “He’s going to wake up soon. I know it.”

Keith nodded too, praying she was right.

;;

The noise in the compound was probably the thing that Keith disliked the most. On the road, he always had to be silent. Noise equaled walkers, and any wrong move could bring a flood of walkers to come kill you. That was why the compound unsettled him so much, he thought; it was louder than he was used to. People talked loudly, laughed together. Some people even played music inside the concrete walls. Keith was always looking over his shoulder any time he heard a loud noise like that, and most of the time, he already had his sword out too.

Lance had been sleeping for four days now, but Coran said that he had been coming in and out of consciousness for the past few hours. When Keith heard that he’d wanted to stay put right beside Lance, but Coran had talked him out of it, saying that Lance needed the rest and it wouldn’t do Keith any good to stand and wait for him to wake up.

Shiro had noticed Keith’s nervousness at the sounds around the compound, and to make up for it, he’d asked that Keith be put on guard duty on one of the farther walls. He’d been annoyed about it at first because of how far it was from Lance and how long it’d take him to get back to his side if something happened, but when he climbed up the ladder to the guard tower, it was completely silent.

He must have had some sort of reaction because Shiro smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. He said, “I thought you’d like this better.”

Keith nodded, sighing in relief, “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They stood in silence. Keith had a rifle with him, and even though Shiro said there wasn’t much to worry about on this side, Keith planned to keep his eyes cut for groups of walkers. A few wouldn’t bring the fences down but any more than that could pose serious problems if it wasn’t dealt with.

It was a few minutes before Shiro broke the silence. “Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you get that scar?”

Keith was quiet. He wasn’t sure that he could tell the story.

Instead of answering, he said, “How did you get yours?”

Shiro sighed, and it was a sound straight from his childhood, the one that Shiro made every time Keith was being an annoying little shit. The memory made one side of Keith’s face lift up into a small smile.

“It was when D.C. fell and the evacuations began,” Shiro started, and Keith hadn’t expected him to really tell the story. “The government had already been gone at that point. In fact, the President had taken Air Force one out to Montana to a bunker, and pretty much everyone else fled the city when they’d gotten the leaked information about the virus hitting Europe.

“So the President’s office left my squadron here, at this compound, to protect Coran and his niece, Allura. Coran had been getting close to finding something for a vaccine, he’d thought, so we were told to stay put, to wait it out and keep him alive at all costs,” Shiro explained. “But then, the city evacuations started, and citizens were being encouraged to get out of the District as fast as they could, but it was too late. The virus hit the population fast, and everything went dark within two days. We watched people evacuate, and some made it out in time, but the walkers were just—swarming everything. We put up the second and third fences pretty close to that, and we were talking about digging a trench around the compound just to up security.”

“Did anyone ever make it this far from the city?” Keith asked.

Shiro nodded, “A lot did, yeah. They begged us to take them in but—we couldn’t. We didn’t have the room to take in the amount of people that were showing up at the gates. We couldn’t even spare the food or water we had to help them out. It was terrible, having to turn them away, but we had been assigned to keep Coran alive so he could find the cure and we’d been briefed that our mission was more important than any number of survivors that showed up asking for help.”

“That’s…” Keith trailed off, unsure what it was.

“Yeah,” Shiro nodded again. “So we sent people away. They were angry too. We lost a few guys before we figured out that we needed to be more careful and get serious about what was going on.”

“So what happened?”

“I went outside the gates with three other men to run a full perimeter check on the fence and see what needed to be improved. It had been really quiet that day, and we had weapons on us, so we didn’t think it would be a big deal,” Shiro’s voice wavered the smallest bit. Keith knew he wouldn’t have been able to tell if he didn’t know Shiro so well. He continued, “We didn’t know we were being watched. A group of survivors grabbed us, thinking they could offer us up for ransom to take over the compound. They shot down the other three men. The leader of the group had a whip, and it caught me across the nose.”

Keith frowned, “How did you get out of it?”

Shiro leaned forward against the rail on the guard tower, looking out across the field. The city was in the distance, far enough that they couldn’t hear anything from it. There were a few walkers at the far edges of the field, up toward the road, but Keith guessed it was far enough for the sounds to be too muffled for them to hear the compound.

“I had a Glock in my waistband, and I convinced them to untie my hands. When they did, I grabbed my gun and shot the leader in the head. He went down, and the others ran,” Shiro said. “We thought they would come back for revenge or something but—I never saw any of them again.”

Keith remained silent at Shiro’s side. The scar on his nose was one thing, but it still didn’t explain what had happened to his hair. Keith supposed that would be a story for another time.

Shiro nudged him, a few moments later, “I told you my story. Your turn, little brother.”

Keith huffed, “It’s—nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Shiro argued, leaning around him to look at it better. Keith turned his face away, ashamed.

God, what was Lance going to think when he woke up? When he saw what Keith looked like now?

“Oh,” Shiro said, and something must have made him realize why Keith was so hesitant about it. In that moment, he hated that Shiro knew him so well. “It just happened then? When you and Lance were in the city.”

Keith nodded.

A few long moments passed. Keith shuffled in place uncomfortably but—if he couldn’t tell Shiro about it, then what was he going to do when Lance woke up and asked too?

Finally, he started, “We’d gone down into the subway to avoid a horde of walkers. We were heading for the CDC, I think, and when we went down into the subway, I got turned around, but Lance was leading the way. He was being slower than normal, off, I guess. Something must have been wrong, but I didn’t get to ask him about it before we started looking for Matt. By the time we got to the subway, I was already tired from picking up the slack to watch where we were going, but everything was okay until… something went wrong.

“We were laughing, right before it happened, I think. My memory is a little fuzzy honestly, but I can remember smiling about something Lance had said, I think he called me a hero? He was making fun of me for something, maybe, I don’t know,” Keith shook his head. He’d tried to avoid thinking about this whole story. He continued, “We got back up onto the platform and we were heading up the stairs. I was following him, and Lance had been talking one second and the next it was—silent.”

“What was it?” Shiro asked, voice low.

Keith took a breath, “Bandits. One had grabbed Lance and put a knife to his throat. There were four of them, three men and a woman. They were fighting with each other when Lance tried to get out of the bandit’s arms. They just shot him, right there. He was losing blood fast, and I knew I needed to do something before it was too late, so I—I killed two of them. Put my sword through one’s chest when they tried to attack me and then took off the leader’s head, threatened the others. I thought they’d give me Lance back and leave us alone.”

“But they didn’t,” Shiro guessed.

“No. I ran for Lance. I grabbed him, killed the last man, and was making a run for it when the woman attacked me. All I could think about was getting as far from Lance as we could so, we rolled off the platform and down into the tunnel. She, um, she dragged me over to the track, and it still had the electric charge.”

“Oh fuck,” Shiro breathed, staring at him, eyes wide.

Keith swallowed, hard. He said, “I got out of it, but not before it did this to my face.”

“What ended up happening? How did you get away?”

Keith turned away from Shiro as he said, “I fed her to a walker. I had my sword, and I could have ended it there but—I didn’t. What does that make me, Shiro?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Shiro’s voice was fierce when he said, “It makes you alive. You and Lance are alive because of that. It doesn’t matter what you did to her or those other bandits. They were evil people, fuck, they weren’t even people. It doesn’t matter what happened. It matters that you and Lance are alive and safe now.”

Tears were dangerously close to crawling up his throat and out of his eyes, but he nodded anyway. Shiro was right. If Keith hadn’t done any of it, they wouldn’t be here.

“What happened after that?” Shiro asked the question a while later, after they had been in silence for a moment. “How did you get to the Humvee?”

Keith shrugged, “I just grabbed him and ran. When I got to the street, I used my shirt to make some bandages for his leg as best as I could, and then I heard the walkers coming so I just picked him up and started running. I honestly don’t know how long it was, but it had to have been miles. We’d gotten into the subway pretty close to the CDC I think, and we probably didn’t walk for more than half an hour before we got back up onto the platform and ran into the bandits.”

“Damn, how did you do it? When I found you—you looked like you were going to die too.”

“I don’t know honestly. My chest is still aching from it, and my face—I don’t think there’s anything to even do about it now,” Keith’s voice turned bitter, thinking about the scar that marred the right side of his face. “The only thing I can remember thinking is that I would either find us help and save Lance or wait for him to come back and end it.”

In the distance, a walker stumbled and righted itself mechanically, searching for its next meal without regard to anything else.

A long while passed. Keith wasn’t sure if he would regret telling any of this to Shiro, but he figured it would work out somehow.

“And then you showed up,” Keith said suddenly, breaking the silence between them. “I thought you were a ghost. I didn’t think any of it was real but—there wasn’t anything else I could do. So I got in the Humvee, and when you saved Lance, you saved me.”

Shiro grasped his shoulder, turning Keith around and pulling him into a hug and fuck—it was just like when Keith was a kid. He flung his arms around Shiro, holding on tight, and the few tears he’d been shoving back since this conversation started burst through his walls and dripped down his face.

Neither of them moved for what felt like hours. Keith just stood in his brother’s arms, and for a second, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

When Shiro pushed back from the embrace, the look on his face was soft. He smiled gently and said, “You really love Lance, huh?”

Keith nodded, relieved to share this weight with someone. He loved Lance so much it hurt to breathe.

“He’s going to be okay,” Shiro assured him, and even though he had been listening to everyone else say that for the past four days, he finally felt like it was true now. “And when he wakes up, he’s not going to care about the scar on your face. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You got it because you saved both yourself and Lance. That’s what it represents. Nothing else, alright?”

Keith nodded, unable to say anything.

“Okay,” Shiro nodded too. “When we get finished with guard duty, you’re going to let Coran and Allura look you over. If your chest is aching, we need to get you medical attention.”

Keith started to object, but the second that he opened his mouth, Shiro said, “Do you want to be healthy for Lance when he wakes up?”

He nodded again.

“Good,” Shiro agreed. “And Keith?”

He cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

Shiro grinned and held out his fist, “I’m so glad I found you.”

Keith stared for a second before he bumped Shiro’s fist with his own, smiling lightly, and said, “Me too, Shiro.”

#rachel and maire write klance #rachel writes klance #rachel writes stuff #klance zombie au #klance zombie apocalypse au #klance: more than alive #voltron fic #maireep #fic tennis #voltron #klance #this is the road to ruin

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indecentpause · 6 years ago

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Tagged by @agwitow! Thank you! I’m not going to tag anyone, because I never know who likes to do these. So if you want to, go for it!

I’ve never done one of these character interviews before, so please bear with me! I don’t know what I’m doing (do I ever? no)

Rules: Choose one of your OCs, get into their head, and answer these questions as if they were answering.

I’m interviewing Jen! This interview is based on where I am in the manuscript right now, so there are some spoilers. Because of that it’s behind a cut:

1. How are you doing today?

I’m tired. Cold. It snowed last night, did you know? At least my jacket and boots are waterproof. My knee is fucking killing me though.

2. You ready to answer some questions?

I guess?

3. How do you feel about your first name? Your surname?

It’s fine, I guess. A lot of people think I’m jerking them around and it makes it hard to find professional work. I’m named after a cool character, though! Artax, no! Fight the sadness! Artax! noooooooooo

My last name is my last name? It’s annoying that so many people can’t pronounce it, but what are you gonna do.

4. Is there anything you’d like to thank your author for?

They can go fuck themself.

5. You can only eat three foods for the rest of your life. What are they?

Oh, uh... pancakes. Strawberries, because they have vitamin C and I don’t want scurvy. And. Um. This is hard! If I pick tofu can I season it however I want?

Sure, why not.

Okay, then. And tofu,

6. Have you ever done or said anything that surprised your author?

No, but they’ve certainly surprised me.

7. You have limitless funds. What kind of party do you throw?

*laughs* I rent out an empty two story warehouse, right? And there’s hardcore on the bottom and more chill stuff like house and trance up top. Everyone in the city who’s not a cop is invited. You can bring your own drinks in, but I’d suggest not letting them out of your sight, just to be safe. There’s limitless water bottles for free. There’s drug testers who can make sure you know what you’re taking before you take it, so you’ll be safe. Kylie is there and actually having fun. Can you tell I’ve thought about this a lot?

8. Pick one of your fellow characters. What would they say about you?

*snorts* Puh. Kylie would probably say I’m a cheater, I’m useless, I’m lazy, I’m stupid, I’m --

9. Tell us a quick story about something that’s happened to you that not even your author knows about… yet.

Oh! Uh. I don’t know. I don’t even know what’s going to happen next. Hopefully they do.

(They do)

10. Do you have a favourite superhero?

Batman! The real Batman, not the new asshole grimdark Batman. Like. The animated series Batman, who cares about people, and HELPS them, and DOESN’T LEAVE THEM TO DIE IN THE SNOW, and --

11. What do you plan to do after this?

Fuck. Hopefully get in touch with Ashley about selling some stuff so I can maybe afford a motel room just for a night. It gets really cold and wet out there, and there are a lot of rats and squirrels around the dumpsters where I slept last night.

#character interview #jen hoshigawa #in the basement in the sky #spoilers

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groovymsat · 7 years ago

Photo

https://www.uktactical.com/p-11523-pentagon-k08011-artaxes-sf-jacket-level-v-wolf-grey.aspx

#wolfgrey #loadout

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maireep · 7 years ago

Text

Still Breathing

More than Alive:

VLD zombie apocalypse au by @maireep and @somethingmorecreative1

Part 1 / Part 2

pairing: klance rating: unrated

iii.

Lance was starting to regret staying.

Keith was socially awkward, quiet, and argumentative. He was too stubborn, too thick-headed, didn’t get jokes and was solely focused on necessity - like surviving. He got it! He really did! He wanted to hunt too, and rest and find fresh water but hell, it would’ve been better without having to ride a solid three hours on his sore unaccustomed ass because his cowboy partner wanted to cover more ground. Even Artax, easily , was on Keith’s side - simply adoring all the riding to combat her nearly endless supply of energy. Keith would call her a “colt” almost adoringly, but Lance was more than a little bitter about it.

He wasn’t regretting staying for conventional reasons.

Mostly, it was because Keith was too much. He was too easy to joke with, too easy to make fun of, too easy to stare at. Lance had too many instances where he had caught himself staring at Keith’s lips and idly thinking of how long ago he had last been kissed. But on the other hand, Keith was too much. He was solemn, static and hard to read. Every time Lance began to clue in on his behavior, there’d be another shift that would throw their already rocky friendship spiraling off some cliff. It was like he was locking Lance out.

He had barely known the guy for a week, but it was already starting to bother him. They had agreed to circle up back north, after Keith had saved him from that creepy prowler. There had been little in his life that had scared him worse than the undead that sprawled the country, but that man had been something else entirely. If Keith hadn’t been there…

Lance shivered, and was glad he could blame it on the cold air.

They had returned to the cabin after more supply runs into the small expansions of towns and farms dotting off of Route 1. Artax grazed on patches of green a few feet from the clearing. Between the trees, he could see Keith stack wood bundles on the porch before moving the sealed off door to carry them inside.Lance shrugged his jacket completely off, placing it by his shoes. To keep up against the roaming hoards, they took turns between work and keeping watch during the days. He almost wished for the comfy warm seat of the semi instead of the laid out bedrolls on the cabin floor as he stepped out of his ripped jeans and bundled it along with his discarded shirt.

The rocks were slippery when he stepped into the river, feeling fish jolt past his calves as he waded further into the water. Sure his skin crawled with the slimy scales against his legs, but the cool slow-moving water felt heavenly against his sticky skin.

The ride had been particularly stifling during the afternoon, and the humidity rose still as the evening turned from bronze to dark. Keith had been half-teaching him, half-smugly commenting him on his riding, especially when he had handed Lance Artax’s lead and took off to check the perimeter of clearings they had came upon. Lance hadn’t really been the best rider on his father’s ranch, on their dopey old Phillip. He had been squat and slow, and Artax was like a living Maserati. He didn’t want to ask Keith, for fear of that devilishly handsome smirk, but Artax was clearly a Thoroughbred - miles upon miles away from the stable pony his father kept.

He hunkered down into the water, cupping it up to his shoulders and running his cool hands through the back of his neck and jaw. The entire length of his body ached from the day and his breach into relaxation stalled, feeling the slick of the water against his stomach and catch on hairs he would’ve otherwise razored away the second they had appeared. He wondered if it was too late to wiggle out of the stream and grab his travel razor and some body wash from his pack without flashing Keith on the way.

Grumbling, he sank further into the water until he submerged his head. The soft rush of water against his cheeks felt like the creek down the acre of the ranch, past the small swing his father had hung for his mother and just around the clearing they had made in his elementary years for an ecosystem project. Just like the creek, the slime of scales rolled against his ankle and he breached the water, sputtering. Water ran down his face, pushing his hair, the longest it had been in a while, into his face. He swiped it back and turned back to the rocky bank. Making sure to shake his hand off, he searched through the pockets of his jacket before grasping onto his iPhone. He placed it on the biggest boulder, in the sunlight before shuffling his downloaded music.

Bebe Rexha echoed against the crevices of the rock, with soft piano and the twang of guitars to support the soft lyrics. For all the couple thousand songs downloaded to the sturdy phone, he hadn’t listened to this particular song in a while. It was one of his more odd choices, the kind that would’ve made his roommate Nyma wrinkle her nose when he placed his phone on the iPhone dock. She was always critical about his music, something about his utter lack for appreciation of trap music. Hed always reply with scathingly mainstreamed trap songs that he liked, just to make her nose wrinkle in distaste. He sunk into the water, letting it raise around his ears. He missed her. He missed their shitty RA, he missed the kid in his Earth Science class who smelled of weed or the barista at the corner café who spelled his name wrong consistently. He missed whatever horrid person dropped gum on his hair at the club, he missed his hideous husk of a Psychology professor and her shit grading curves and more importantly he missed Hunk. He missed Hunk and he missed his family.

Footfalls and then a plop. He turned to see Keith sit on the boulder a bit away, leaning over to tug off his camel boots without even untying the red laces. He hid his face momentarily to blink before Keith spoke up.

“Is this Florida Georgia Line?”

Lance looked up, eyebrows knit, “What?” Keith looked up from his boots, blinking, “This song. Florida Georgia Line? I could recognize Kelley and Hubbard in my sleep.”

“Uh…” Lance turned to his phone, squinting at the screen, “I guess so? It’s by Bebe Rexha, just featuring them.” The tops of his cheekbones felt numb, the corners of his mouth peaking gently. Keith was utterly a cowboy, even so much as recognizing country singers in some dance pop love song.

Keith hummed but said nothing else, stacking his boots beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance watched as Keith tugged his plaid shirt over his head. He wore a worn blank tank underneath, highlighting the swell of biceps and the stark line where his tan skin met contrasting pale white. Lance could’ve drown himself, just slip backwards into the flow of the stream and let it carry his otherwise naked body to the depths. Instead he sunk down, engulfing himself in the water and trying to shake the idea of Keith’s fuckin’ farmers’ tan out of his head. It didn’t help his starved body deemed it woefully attractive.

Later, when Keith had retreated back to camp to cook whatever harvest he had caught for them that evening, Lance dried off and redressed. The heat was subsiding, and he had first shift on watch duty, picking the last meat off his skewer and watching Artax doze in her patch of grass. Keith sat on the ground, turned in with his Stetson covering his face. They hadn’t spoken too much since nights ago, when Lance had killed his first man and they had inexplicably tied themselves to one another. Every time Lance tried, Keith would shuffle away after a few comments.

He was getting used to it.

Lance stood up, careful to not trip over Keith’s legs as he stepped outside and gradually led Artax to the small porch. She whinnied softly, and mouthed at his hair with her lips as he tied her lead to the cabin. She settled in immediately, but snorted almost unhappily when he turned away.

“Alright girl.” He smiled, rolling his eyes as he went back to her. Quietly he placed his palms onto the banister of the cabin and hauled himself onto it. The wood banister was rough, leaving him to wiggle for a better position as he leaned against Artax’s flank. She tossed her mane, the long blank tendrils smacking his face and catching in his mouth.

“Bleh!” He spat out, “Artax!”

She whinnied back, practically in the same tone. Her hair had dragged his chapstick from his lips to his chin, and he pawed at his chin with his jacket sleeve. The taste of hair and grass was in his mouth and he frowned.

“Aw hun,” He cooed, reaching back to comb his fingers through her hair, “I never feel the same when my hair is dirty too. Lemme get those tangles for you.”

Slowly he picked at Artax’s hair, leaning against her flank and methodically plaiting her mane in tiny braids. Lance wasn’t sure if it was what she was looking for, but she didn’t complain, and he was glad for it. She slowly dozed, and it reminded him so much of braiding his mother’s or sisters’ hair, he started to relax too.

In the distance, there were howls, groans and rustling. A hundred feet shuffled onward, the sound reverberating for miles around in the silent dark. The night came and went before he even slept a wink, listening to the echoes braced against Artax. He didn’t think Keith slept either.

He knew what Keith was going to say even before he said it.

They’d be together for a week and a half when Keith looked to him with those imploring eyes. Lance agreed, he already knew he agreed. Their rations were dwindling, their fresh water was low and the cars on the interstate near them were picked dry by either them or prowlers.

They had to go into D.C. The towns were running dry, and farmsteads were entirely encompassed by the moving hordes of rotters. It was almost migrational, like packs of birds flying north for the winter. Lance had begun to vaguely wonder if there was a pattern to it, as summer was starting to tighten its grip.

He sat on the porch of the cabin, with the rough wood sticking through his jeans as Keith suited Artax up with their bedrolls and his packs. Lance had tucked away his iPhone before anything else. On top of the food and water they needed, he needed a new battery for his solar charger, maybe a new razor and some deodorant. He was a young man sure, and it was the apocalypse yes, but hell he still wanted to smell good. He couldn’t have it like Keith, who happened to smell like a woodsy musky Old Spice expo, even if he was covered in blood and guts and rotting flesh.

He rubbed his forehead and looked up at Keith as he approached.

“Ready?” Keith tipped his Stetson back, framing out the sun and looking down at him in the shade. His black hair was stuck to his forehead from the heat, and his earrings gleamed in the afternoon light.

Absentmindedly, Lance rolled his thumb and forefinger over one of his own earrings and stood. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Keith snorted, and hauled himself onto Artax. Lance followed, less gracefully and more or less fumbling on Keith’s shoulders to keep himself upright as he sat in the saddle behind him. The inner muscles of his thighs were beginning to steel up, but still ached furiously from their rides - as if he had just twerked in a club for 48 hours or did hot pilates with Nyma again. He shuffled forward, pressing his hips to Keith’s behind but keeping space between his chest and Keith’s back.

Keith stirred Artax out of the clearing, toward the overpass onto the freeway. They cleared the line of trees quickly as Artax broke into a trot, climbing the slope up the shoulder of the road onto the concrete. The sun stood fiery in the sky, mid east and glaring onto the back of his neck like it was angry at him for skipping on his face routine or something. He melted backward, making even more space between his body and Keith’s.

“It’s hot.” He complained, placing his palms on Artax’s haunches to keep him upright.

He could practically feel Keith roll his eyes, “You haven’t been to Texas then.”

Lance pouted, sliding his gaze to the side as they rode on. He rolled his sleeves over his forearms, glad he stuffed his jacket into his pack earlier. His guitar case was annoyingly sticking against his back. “I don’t think I’d ever want to be.”

And the most odd thing happened.

Keith laughed. It was low, but more than an chuckle. His shoulders shook, the Stetson tilting back as the musical low laughter came from him. Lance stared.

“Ain’t that right,” Keith snorted, “Shit’s a hellhole.”

Lance leaned in, “Yeah? I feel like you’d be the type to have some state pride.”

Keith’s hat moved with the shake of his head. He kicked Artax onward, weaving her between forgotten cars Lance had practically memorized the position of by now. “I feel like you get to have pride in your state if it has pride in you. Sure I grew up wrangling Mustangs but a gay son of a disgraced alcoholic G.I. and an absent mother ain’t really Texas-pride.”

This time the odd thing was all on him. He openly choked on his own spit, going rigid behind Keith on Artax. His stomach had simultaneously turned into jelly and erupted into fire. Lance was an idiot. Was his gay radar that wrong? That obtuse? Here he was thinking this cowboy was easily the straightest person he’d ever met, maybe just some Southern kid who thought pierced earrings were more of a modern thing instead of what they really thought, and -

He wanted to slap his forehead. Yeah they were partners now, each others’ family at this point but just because Keith was gay didn’t mean he had a chance. Lance pulled at his collar, choked some semblance of a hum and let the conversation fall.

Gradually they left the interstate behind for inner towns. The lines of suburbs were desolate, ravaged by fire and panic. Houses stood half-burned through or bolted up with boards and nails. Through the back suburbs, they trotted slowly around to the city center. Among the middle was a square town park, with gazebo, in front of the City Hall. Walkers milled around in scattered groups, and with no sign of runners or their crawling counterparts, they quietly took the sidewalk around the perimeter due North.

Lance watched a small girl in a tattered t-shirt bump into the General Store door repeatedly, sickness rolling in a coil in his stomach.

He turned away as they passed on, keeping his eyes down to the saddle.

By the next town, the walkers were thicker. They had to utterly pass the town completely, giving it a wide berth. The inner city was crawling with bodies, swarmed with hordes and clumps of runners like little pesky flies. Flies that could kill you in instants. Keith said nothing but Lance could feel the tension in his back, as Artax cantered nervously until Keith tugged her around. They kept silent, and Lance pulled out his handgun to load rounds into it.

After the inner city had passed, there were only throughs of walkers along the roads. Instead of engaging, they rode hard and fast past them into the suburbs. Artax was fast enough to barely alerting the walkers until they were long gone. In that moment, he was glad to have stayed with Keith and Artax. If he was alone, he would’ve surely been downed in the inner city and… God knows what.

The suburbs for this town were spaced out, with lawns that sprawled in small hills and lined with bushes. A few walkers milled in the treeline behind the houses, groaning endlessly like a constant hum. Lance kept the safety on on his handgun but settled it in his lap between their bodies.

At the end of the block, Artax stopped.

Keith grunted, kicking his heel lightly, “Artax?”

A line of panic rolled up his spine, and he grabbed onto the back of Keith’s plaid shirt with one hand, the thumb of his other hand pressed hard on the safety of the gun.

“What is it?” Lance croaked, pushing closer to Keith subconsciously.

Keith stilled, frozen like Artax as she raised her head, ears pricked to the house at the end of the block.

Finally Keith spoke, ruff and low, but enough to set the hair on the back of his neck on end, “There’s someone in the window.”

#fic: more than alive #more than alive #klance au #klance #klance fic #keith/lance #voltron au #vld au #vld #voltron #lance/keith #laith #laith au #somethingmorecreative1 #THANK U GREEN DAY FOR THE SONG STILL BREATHIN' WOOOO

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the-tol-and-the-smol · 8 years ago

Text

Sasata Sata - Shot Through The Heart

Sasata Sata awoke to agony. Agony, and sand in her mouth. Spreading her fingers, she felt sand shift under her palms – the beach, maybe? Blackout drinking would explain the pounding in her head, but definitely not the rest of the throbbing. She winced as she worked herself upright again, sucking air between clenched teeth. Blinking, she brushed the sand from her face and looked around. Night, sand dunes. What looked like the blue of Aether in the distance, near some rocky hill. Soft firelight and the shadows of palm trees.

Forgotten Springs.

Apparently she had passed out somewhere in the dunes of Southern Thanalan, but she had no memory of why she was there or how long she had been in the dirt. The hurt was blocking her from thinking too hard about it, however �� breathing was making her more and more pained by the minute. She hurt all over. Every movement she made felt like it was pulling at the skin of her back, as if somehow that had become too tight in the time she was asleep. And it was hot, too – far more hot than it should have been, even for the desert. Her back felt almost as if it was on fire, like an awful sunburn. Wondering how long she had been asleep, Sasata felt around her side a little, fingers gently probing as far as they could without causing her too much pain. She frowned a little as she noted a big gap where there shouldn't have been one in her coat. She was touching bare skin on her back. At least, she thought it was skin. It felt off, like it was more leathery than usual. But it was definitely her skin, because every time her fingers prodded at it, she felt the pain keenly. She needed to be looked at by a healer, or at least get to some mirrors so she could assess the damage herself and maybe do a little Fatespinning to try and minimize the damage.

Fatespinning. Perfect, she thought, a small smirk spreading across her face as she began feeling through her pockets for her worn deck of cards. All she found was more sand and a single bent card. She sighed. Well, at least I still have the Spire, she thought, letting the worthless thing slip from her fingers and flutter across the dunes on the breeze. Not only did she need a healer, she needed a new deck of cards. And several drinks. And someone to fix her coat – or a new coat. Whatever happened, it must have been spectacular.

Figuring it wasn't safe to spend a whole night sitting around in the sand, especially not given the local sand worm population and her current injuries, Sasata made her way to her feet carefully and attempted to gather the Aether to teleport herself somewhere safer. She had barely gathered the beginnings of a teleport when a wall of wind buffeted her back with sand and she fell to her hands and knees, screaming in the dark. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the sand stung her back. When the wind finally died down, she shakily stood again began waddling towards the light as fast as she could. Her foot struck something hard as she set off, and she bent down carefully to pick up a pistol, complete with a revolving chamber, wood grip, and a barrel that was now full of sand. Her brow wrinkled a bit – the gun seemed familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen it before. Shaking some of the sand loose, she tucked it in her coat. Maybe someone at Forgotten Springs would know something about it. Her usually fast foot speed was reduced considerably by her pain, but she figured it was better than being out in the elements, and the U tribe would at least offer her a place to spend the night. Or get her pointed towards someone who would let her kip up with them, at any rate.

–

Just before sunrise, two U tribe hunters left their camp and nearly tripped over the exhausted Sasata, who fell backwards into a sitting position in the sand before them. One of the women called for help while the other knelt down and examined the extent of the lalafell's injuries. Sasata looked up at the feline woman and smiled weakly. “How bad is it?” The miqo'te bit her lip as her eyes met Sasata's.

“I have seen worse burns, but there is some bad news,” the miqo'te began, her tone grave. Sas inhaled as deeply as she could and braced herself for the worst. “That jacket is not going to survive,” she trailed off, unsure if it was okay to make the joke. Sas chuckled, releasing her held breath, and the miqo'te woman smiled gently at her. The second hunter came back with two more women, similarly dressed, and a litter. They helped Sas onto the canvas and the hunters watched as the medics took her into the camp. Sas let herself fade into unconsciousness again, secure in the knowledge that at least now she would be safe from the worms.

–

The desert afternoon was hot, heat waves shimmering off the dunes as Sasata skipped her way across the sand, her holstered pistol tapping against her leg as she did and her long coat flapping in the breeze behind her. She had left Artax in the care of her uncle at the caravan, who was surprised as ever to see the runt chocobo flourishing as he was. She didn't want to bring him along on this trip – she would introduce him to firearms later, when she was a little more confident in her aim and certain she'd miss him if the bird got himself into melee with something she was shooting at. For now, though, it was just her and some target practice this afternoon.

She climbed to the top of a dune and put her hands on her hips, admiring the landscape. Having been raised in a Thanalan-based traveling caravan, Sasata had seen a lot of these rolling dunes in her years, but they never failed to make her feel like she was home. She loved Limsa Lominsa deeply, but when it came down to it she was pure dunesfolk, and that was in her blood. She inhaled deeply and exhaled again, sighing with happiness. You can take the girl out of the desert but you can't get the desert out of the girl, she thought, smiling to herself.

She shaded her eyes with a hand, examining the area more closely. Shushulo's words echoed in her head as she looked for some decent targets to practice on, drunkenly slurred as they frequently seemed to be. “There's fire elementals down in Southern Thanalan that explode when you shoot their cores!” she had said, her eyes twinkling with a certain amount of madness that Sas was finding somewhat infectious. Squinting, she grinned. She'd spotted one of them hovering a few dunes off.

Drawing the gun slowly, she looked over the mechanisms one last time. She was fairly sure she knew what she was doing – point at other thing, pull trigger, enjoy boom – but she was still nervous. She'd heard stories, horrible stories, of pirates who had lost hands and eyes in misfires and bad jams. She trusted Shu as much as you could trust another drunk lalafell, but there were a -lot- of those stories. She held the weapon at arm's length, wincing and closing one eye readying for the inevitable pain as she pulled the trigger. Sas tensed up and closed her other eye, finally pulling the trigger back far enough to . The pistol let off a satisfying crack as the hammer met powder and the round fired off into the desert. Sas carefully opened her eyes again, noting she was still with all her limbs, digits and eyeballs. She smiled. “Don't know what I was worried about!” She exclaimed, looking at the gun and then at the still-hovering fire elemental. Her face fell. She'd missed her shot.

Shrugging, Sas closed the gap between herself and the fire elemental a bit and lined up a second shot, her tongue sneaking out between her lips as she concentrated. She only closed one eye this time, and tried to site the shot properly. She confidently held the pistol with both hands and steadied the weapon as she looked at her target. She planted her feet squarely and fired again. CRACK. It went wide again, winging the elemental slightly and causing it to spin around in the desert air. The elemental stopped whirling and flared, hovering towards Sas as she leveled the gun again, squeezing off another round as she backpedaled up the dune. Her foot hit something solid in the sand and she tripped backwards as the elemental closed in on her. The gun discharged one final time and struck the core just before the elemental bore down on Sas.

Everything happened in slow motion, or so it seemed to the lalafell. The elemental's core glowed brightly, then expanded, as the bullet sunk into it. Sas' eyes went wide – it was far too close to explode now, she was certain to get caught in it and get badly hurt. She scrambled to turn over and find her feet, hoping to put any space between herself and the explosion. She had just begun to claw her way up the dune on all fours when the core breeched and a rolling wave of flames scorched her back and head. Sas screamed and collapsed, trying desperately to cover herself with her arms and the remainder of her coat as the flames burned her back.

Everything went black.

–

Sas bolted upright in a panic, sweating profusely. She looked around desperately, clutching at the rough blanket that had been placed over her. She was in a simple stone building, on a hay-stuffed mattress. That's right, the U tribe, she thought. Across the room, a miqo'te was watching her intently. Sas blinked as she looked at the woman, an elder of her tribe judging from the grey streaks in her hair. The miqo'te smiled, a gentle and motherly one.

“Ah, you are awake,” she said. “My name is U'liana, and I am a healer for this place. My daughters are the ones who found you; you are lucky you made it this far,” she crossed the room as she spoke, picking up a bowl of water and a washcloth on her way. She set the items on a small table beside Sas' bed. “Your back was burned fairly badly, most I have seen with that level of burning succumb to the pain early and die where they fall. You are made of very stern stuff for someone...of your stature,” the miqo'te explained as Sas calmed down. “I have done what we can for the burns, but you are scarred for the time being. I do not have magics as some others do, just poultices and herbs,” she waved a graceful hand at a standing cabinet full of clay jars and bowls.

Sas winced a bit as she shifted around, noting her back still felt tight. Must be the scarring, she thought. Once she was facing U'liana fully, she smiled. “My name is Sasata, and I owe the U tribe – and your daughters and you particularly – my life,” she said. U'liana opened her mouth to interrupt, but Sas held up a hand to stop her. “If you can help me one last time there'll be a proper payment coming. I need to get a message to a caravan that's somewhere in the desert. My family will help you as you have done for me, I'm sure about that,” she dipped her hands into the washbowl and fished out the cloth, wringing some of the excess water out before cleaning her face and hands off. U'liana smiled and nodded.

“I will send my girls after them. They have never failed in tracking prey, a caravan should be a simple matter for them. Rest yourself. You will be reunited with yours by nightfall, you have my word,” U'liana touched a fist to her chest in salute and left the building, presumably to search for her children. Sas stretched herself, turning and bending as much as she could. Most of her pain seemed to have subsided; it was clear to her U'liana had plenty of skill as a healer even without the use of magic. She cleaned herself up with the offered water and cloth, working the sand that was still present out of her skin. U'liana had left her a linen shift to wear, and she shrugged the garment over her head. She ran her hands through her hair, an act which ended in some confusion on her part.

Most of it seemed to be missing.

Sas had worn her hair long for as far back as her memory went. Even as a child, it was in braids that tumbled down her back. Before she had left for this desert trip, it fell to her butt in red-orange waves. Yes, she frequently tucked it up under her hat after having pulled it into long pigtails, but her hair was always long at the end of the day. Now though, it was barely to the nape of her neck and the ends felt wrong. Too dry, Sas thought as she frowned, attempting to get some sort of look at the back of her head using the one mirror in the room and a metal plate that had biscuits on it after unceremoniously dumping the biscuits onto the table. The plate wasn't reflective enough to be useful; all she managed to see was a fuzzy outline of her body that was so indistinct she wasn't sure of any of her proportions. She sighed and set the plate down, sitting on the bed again.

“Lost my coat, lost my hair, lost my cards. Almost lost my gun,” she said, counting these things on her fingers. “At least I'm alive, I guess,” she smiled a little, lowering herself back to the pillow. “Might as well get a little more sleep, she mumbled, already drifting off before she finished speaking.

“Sasata. Sasaaaata,” a familiar voice interrupted Sas's dreamless sleep. She felt a hand gently touch her shoulder, shaking her a little. She cracked an eye slowly to find herself face to face with a round-cheeked lalafell with a pair of oval glasses perched on her nose, her hair pulled up into a messy bun. A smile spread across her aging features as Sas watched. “There we go, that's a girl,” the woman said, patting her Sas' arm gently. Sas opened her other eye, looked at the face for a few seconds, and broke into a grin of her own as her brain finally woke up.

“Ma! They found you!” She reached out to embrace the other lalafell, wincing as she tried to stretch her arms beyond the length the scar tissue on her back would allow. Her mother held her as tenderly as she could manage, keeping her hands clear of Sas' back. She held Sas at arm's length once the hug finished, examining her with a look of concentration. Once she was satisfied all Sas' limbs were at least where they should be, she looked Sas in the eyes.

“You have no idea how much we've gone through, looking for you! When you didn't come back that afternoon, your father went into a panic and sent your uncle and your cousins out to the desert with your bird, and no one could find you, and the bird got angry and scared, and...” the elder lalafell blurted out as her eyes welled up with tears. Sas smiled at her mother.

“Yeah, I got myself into a bit of a jam. Got lucky, too, when the U tribe took me in,” she said. “Can I come spend some time with you guys? I need a new coat,” she chuckled. Her father, who had padded silently into the small room, was examining the damage that had been done to her clothes with a practiced tailor's eye, tutting to himself.

“Yes, you certainly do. Unless backless is in fashion with the Lomnisians,” he said, holding the burned remains of the coat up so the two across the room could see it. Sas chuckled at the more-hole-than-coat.

“Oh of course, dear! You are always welcome in the caravan, you know that!” Sas' mother hopped off the bed and began gathering her things. “We'll have your grandfather look at your back and fix you right up. You know he's always been good with that conjury stuff,” she continued as Sas climbed off the bed. “And your auntie Bibi can take care of that thing,” she nudged a foot at the gun that had been placed next to Sas' bed. “I would honestly like it if you took up something more respectable, like a bow or a spear, or...”

“Dear, it's her choice what she does,” Sas's father cut in. Her mother nodded and carried on with fussing about the room, trying to leave everything as neat as she could for U'liana. “We're going to stay just outside Forgotten Springs for a few days. Do a little work for the U,” her father said, handing Sas her clothing. “You can get yourself taken care of, and we will make sure they know how grateful we are for the help,” he said, smiling beneath his pushbroom-like moustache. Sas left the hut, flanked by her parents, and made her way back to their family home.

There really is no place like it, sometimes, Sas mused thoughtfully as she stared at the packbeasts, smiling.

#sasata sata #ffxiv rp #balmung #lalafell

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talesofgrandia-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Roadblock to Peace

Now that events have set in motion, and a new Queen sits on the throne of the Rhinotians. It is time to prepare. As a new hive gets dug and prepared, it is also time to make allies. In this case, a certain blue scaled mate of the queen, is sent to gain the allies of Maerun. But sadly, the Bomirians already have a plan in motion. As well as talking with their wallet.

Ever since the tragic attack on the home of the Rhinotians. The drums of war has sounded and the beam of light has since sounded the impending choices many must make. And the new trials others must overcome to gain new allies to their cause. Mordan Artax, who has taken the mantle as the new queen of the Rhinotians has begun to make an effort to gather allies against Bomire. First thoughts were to get the Dracuni, seeing as some of the their first bad encounters were with Maerunians aided by the Bomirians. So the Dracuni do harbor some ill emotions towards them, and more than likely wouldn’t mind making an alliance with the Insectae against them. And that is where the new queen of the Rhinotia, Mordana, has a plan. For a couple years now, Mordana had become close to a strapping blue winged Dracuni that goes by the name of Terlix. Athletic and muscular, and very good at heart. The two have been inseparable ever since their first encounter with each other on Maerun, and at this point have bonded together ever closely. Mordana starts talking to him, asking him if he can go see if the chieftain of the Dracuni would like to cooperate with the Rhinotia. As well as possibly send support, as the Rhinots are being spread pretty thinly since the attack on their hive. Though a majority of the effort is rebuilding a new home and base of operations. Namely under the surface city of Testelj. But the details of the city will come at a later time. For now, my gaze follows the blue Dracuni sent to attain an alliance. Mordana had supplied her mate with a few provisions to aid his journey, and after a heartfelt kiss between them he headed off. Starting his straightforward journey through the desert, it would take him half the day to get to the portal connecting Sarya to the home node of the Dracuni, Maerun. And that half a day was enough, for underlying schemes and plans to take place. And all it took was a simple comm call to an unknown person. And a transaction that could throw someone off course. Terlix traveled the usual direct route towards the Dracuni home south of the Maerun capital of Morvarozh, home of the Wayland family of mages. And the direct route was through many of the forestry that littered the land. The land of Maerun was very lustrous, full of life in its massive woods and forests. Much like Launa, but definitely more hilly and mountainous. The blue Dracuni, Terlix, made his way. Not wearing much armor as much as his own natural armor in his scales. Carrying two swords, his own and one gifted to him by his love made of amber. His steps heavy as he marched on, alone. He told his love he didn’t need an escort, confident that his path would be unimpeded, but he would soon be proven wrong as a cracking sounded nearby. Grabbing his attention quickly, his warrior instinct making him draw his sword in defense. Gazing around for whatever made that noise until he saw him, a human bold enough to stand in the open on a branch above. This human wore a red hat with a large rim. And a matching vested jacket with a trailing tailcoat. His person was wearing a few belts, laden with many pouches and pockets along them as he twirled what looked like a heavy revolver in his hand. But as Terlix was brought attention to him, he tipped his hat and nodded. “Howdy. It's about time you walked through this neck of the woods.” The human said in an oddly accented voice. But definitely had a tone towards the Dracuni that wasn’t just meant to say hello. It seems this one takes inspiration from the old westerns of the world I once lived in. It’s quite peculiar, but he definitely fits it well. Meanwhile, far back onto Sarya. Underneath the city of Telstej, Queen Mordana gets a sudden sensation. Deep in her thoughts she gets the feeling that her love may be in trouble and quickly looks towards one of her nearby scout class Rhinots. “Do we have any maps of Maerun?!” She quickly and confidently asked of her hiveling. “We do your highness! Do you require them?” The scout class asked. In which the queen quickly responds. “Yes, bring them now!” Her command jolts her underling in surprise as he quickly bolts out to grab what she required as she herself began to preemptively grip her spear in a lower hand and it springs to life. Glowing dimly with a latent power while in her grasp. “I know he’s carrying the ambrite sword. I can use that to reach him if I must.” And in due haste, the scout rhinot returned with a small set of maps they’ve drawn up. Simply drawn, but the layout near exact in each detail of terrain. They splay them across the large flat rock for a table in front of the queen. Her eyes darting everywhere trying to get an idea of where her mate may be. Then she grips the stave of the spear, and it’s glow quickly goes from dim to bright. And upon raising both of her larger hands, palms start to glow an amber color as she closes her eyes and concentrates. Back on Maerun, Terlix could feel his amber sword vibrating a little, but he keeps his eyes on the cowboy that stopped him amidst the trees. “I see, didn’t reckon a Dracuni would be under the sheets with the Rhinotian Queen? It’s rather interesting to say the least, usually consorts for them are within the hive itself.” The human touted, calmly changing his stance as he addressed Terlix so confidently. “Terlix was it? You’ve made a decent little name for yourself already. I saw you at the Dracuni peace talks.” “Exactly, humans and Dracuni are at least at a rocky peace. Why are you stopping me here, and with your weapon as a threat?” Terlix gave a growl at the hard headed blonde, reaching behind him and grabbing a hilt of his normal blade. The amber one still vibrating. Back at the Hive, the queen puts her glowing hands to the maps, and the way is revealed on a map of the forests. Amber silhouettes of both Terlix and the one who stopped him appear on the sheets of paper, and she opens her eyes. Getting shocked as she immediately recognizes the man, slamming her large fist onto the table and moving that map over to prioritize it. “It will be another tick on the list of things to skewer Treion for!! These atrocities won’t cease! I will ram my spear through his heart personally!!!” Her anger rang throughout the new hive as it was still being dug under the city. Halting the action of every rhinot briefly as she slowly regains her sense. Slowing down and thinking. “I need to reach him, at least warn him since maintaining that connection would take too much out of me.” After a slight calming chitter, she grips her spear again. And it glows a little more brightly than just before. Closing her eyes and really concentrating, putting a bit of strain on her head as she desperately tries to bridge a connection to Terlix. Meanwhile, the man simply answers Terlix. “Ya see, that therein lies the issue here. I’m not exactly… aligned with my fellow homosapiens in that regard. In my world, money talks more than peace treaties or alliances.” He gives a snarky smile towards the blue dracuni. “And boy, you got yourself a heck of a prize on your head right now. And I aim to collect and deliver.” The vibrating in Terlix’s sword got much more intense now, and then he could hear his love in his ears. A slight ringing in his ears as she spoke. “Be careful, my love, that is Torma Wayland. The most dangerous bounty hunter in all of Grandia. Fight defensive, he’s more than likely prepar….” Her voice cut out as Torma tossed a small device that rang out a small sonic pulse, disrupting the connection Mordana had with Terlix. It feedbacked back to her in the hive as she screeched out in pain. Gripping her chair until it subsided. “How did he know?!” Back on Maerun, Torma tipped his hat as his little device fell. “I felt that little transmission from here. The queen was tryin to talk wasn’t she?” He gave a smirk. “Hope ya don’t mind that I sent a shock right back to her head.” Terlix roared, hearing him say that he just hurt his love. He immediately charges at Torma, blade ready as his body surges with lightning. He unleashes a mighty and quick swing aimed directly at the western clad fellow. Usually a strike this fast would be undodgeable, but Torma just manages to duck under the swing. His hat flew off, exposing all of his blonde hair as he quickly turned and aimed. Pulling the trigger and with a loud bang from his weapon, a small slew of pellets flew out at the dragon. Impacting in different spots on Terlix, he could feel the pellets try and dig into his scales. But ultimately bounced off. Terlix turned to face his attacker, ready to strike once more. Hoping to not miss. But what he was met with was a smiling blonde man, and his weapon held. The large revolver hung open, and the barrel of it was spinning. And he spoke once more. “You have really great speed, and your ability with lightning already reached the grapevine. Unluckily for you partner, I always come prepared for my target.” His smile came wide. And then he had just one word to say as Terlix prepared to dash towards him again. “Discharge” He says as he closes the revolver, stopping the spinning barrel. The points where Torma’s last shot landed on Terlix’s back began to pulse. Terlix could feel some of his electric energy draining briefly, until at each point, it detonates. With a large growl of pain Terlix is sent near flying, being knocked down during his momentum and falling onto the other side where Torma stood. Who quickly stands over top of blue dragon, pointing his gun point blank and pulling back the hammer as it readied with a click. And it clicked slightly once more as he was about to pull back the trigger when he stopped. Turning and pulling out a chain from his belt, then end of it was a blade as he swung it wide. Hitting a large purple colored neon bolt of energy that was flying towards him, splitting it in the middle as it sailed around him and hitting the ground with small violent explosions. Torma then yelled out towards the attacker, knowing full well who they were. “What the hell are you doing here?! This isn’t family business!” He scoffed at a man who walked up, arm extended. Around the man’s arm floated a few metal rings which seemed to be a focal point of power. Another human, using Runic Carbanite, a metal humans can adeptly use to cast magic. This man kept his arm extended in Torma’s direction. A purple energy surged through the man’s arm and the rings around it, making another neon sphere. Threatening to launch it as his dark blue robe blew in the breeze the energy was creating. “I’m making it family business, back off!” The man touted at Torma, who was clearly nervous trying to think his immediate options. But eventually the blonde bounty hunter raised his gun away from Terlix and stepped back. “Fine, I won’t touch him here, Daren. But watch your back blue scale, I’m still coming for that mark on your head once you leave Maerun.” He says, tipping his hat before running off. After a distance, he seems to zip away in a small flash of light. Leaving Terlix alone with this strange robed man who immediately offers his other hand to help him up off the ground. “You’re lucky I was nearby practicing when I heard the chaos. If I hadn’t stepped in, he woulda sold your scales for more irin.” The man chuckled. “I definitely thank you for the assist. I was surprised he was ready for my speed. Normally none would be able to handle it, let alone be able to dodge it.” Terlix affirmed, wondering how the cowboy clad man was able to do such a feat. “My brother Torma, the man you just faced. Is definitely a man of calculation. Though with his own oddities. But where are my manners. My name is Daren Wayland, I may be a brother to Torma, but I do not condone his ways. Which is why I made it family business to keep you protected while you’re on Maerun.” Daren quickly introduced himself to the Dracuni. But he eyeballs that amber sword of his. Recognizing its quality already and chuckles. “I guess I’m safe to assume you’re under the sheets with the Rhinotian queen. I can recognize their handiwork anywhere. Even house our smithies perplexed by their ability to forge precious gems and scrap into effective armor and tools.” Terlix only blushed at the mention of being under the sheets. But not denying it to Daren as he gives a nod. But then gets curious stopping Daren for a moment. “Hey, you mentioned oddities about Torma. My queen did try to contact me, I was able to hear her in my mind. But then suddenly it was stopped by a little sound pulse from Torma. How did he know?” Daren raised a brow to the dracuni and shaking his head slightly. “Sadly answers like that will come at a later time. Judging from your direction over here, you’re probably headed to the Dracuni caves. I can give a bit of an escort.” And Daren stood silent for a moment, but looked into Terlix’s eyes. “All of Grandia saw that column of white erupt off of Sarya. I can only imagine the effort being put in now to bring the hammer down onto Bomire for their transgressions.” A bit more conversation goes on from this point as the two head towards the south so Terlix could help start alliances against Bomire. Perhaps he’ll detour and discuss things with the Maerunan humans as well, since dealings between them and Bomire have also been rocky at best. As Daren said, all of Grandia saw that white light. To nearly all, it was a beacon that marked a turn of events. For me it marked the start of events. Astarah’s game has already begun to take full swing. And the pieces in play are only making their move.

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