#cuz i already posted art of lanius anyway

[florenstry]

Wild Birds Fly (Bastion)

Word Count: 4.5k+ Trigger Warnings: Alcohol, (minor) canon-typical violence Crossposted on: (n/a)

Just a little background fic about my Bastion OC Lanius, with some world building about the Wilds because that area and its fauna has always interested me when I played the game! I haven’t written something this long in a while, but I enjoyed it.

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A wild bird’s gotta have a few nests to keep. For Lanius, Caelondia was a first, but after the Calamity he knew everything that had been built was gone. The Tazal Terminals could count as a second, but could you really call it a home if you’ve never been to the place?

Maybe in spirit it could be considered. The Wilds was where he was now, and as much as it was the “home” it just seemed to tolerate his presence, treating him just like any other fauna living off of it. So what was home for a lost bird? Well, a long day of work always had him coming back to an old distillery just between Caelondia and the Wilds; it was abandoned enough for him to call it his own, but intact enough for him to use. It was better than being out in the open under a tent that could be attacked at any given moment.

Lanius sat with a bottle of Werewhiskey in his hand. It was close to midnight, and a yawn escaped him. Thistle, his Fledgling with a purple crest, flew into the room where he sat tending to a small fire. In her beak was part of a Lunkhead’s stony eggshell, and she dropped it beside him as if to give a “gift”. Thistle was one to collect shiny objects and stones, which ended up being kept for her to play with when she was bored.

“Thanks,” he chuckled, petting her head as she relaxed by his side. They heard a Pecker’s call from afar.

Another Fledging arrived—it’s Thorn, Thistle’s brother but with an orange crest. He had a dead Stinkeye in his talons, and he dropped it in front of them. The Stinkeye writhed for a moment, before the Pecker pierced through it with its beak for final measure. Lanius felt somewhat sorry for the green eye; Thistle liked to hunt for food and always seemed to be hungry, and that little guy just so happened to be caught by the bird.

Thistle waddled over to her brother for the both of them to eat. Lanius watched as the birds pecked away at their food for the night. He was planning to eat some fruit before bed, but decided that he’s lost his appetite at the sight of his birds going at their own dinner. He took a long swig from the bottle, sighing as he finished the remainder of it. The alcohol kicked in slowly, and his eyes wandered lazily to the two other bottles he had finished before Werewhiskey. He’ll make some more in the morning with what he collected from the day’s hunt.

As his mind wandered, memories of the Calamity came back to him. Lanius would never forget the day that the Old World crumbled around him. One moment Lanius was pouring himself a shot of cider for a long day ahead, and the next he’s sprinting out of the Misty Cenote Distillery for his parents. It wasn’t like anything he had seen in the Wilds, and he’s seen a lot of things given the dangers living in a place where you are the hunter… or the hunted. The vivid pictures of the world falling shifted to his parents, both of them smiling down at him. He smiled to himself, succumbing to the effect of his drunken stupor. The sounds of the Wilds faded around him, and the last thing Lanius saw was his Fledglings hopping over to his side to watch over as he drifted to sleep.

<<<

“Hey, Lan.”

The 13-year-old boy looked up just as he was about to stab a fish out of the water. He watched as his father Hirun, a Caelondian man in his late 40s, walked over to him with something in his hands. Lanius rushed over to him as Hirun knelt down, showing a small purple Pincushion. It was still growing, about a few weeks old based on the grey spikes that barely grew from within.

“You can tame a Pincushion, y’know?” Hirun said. Lanius looked up at him in confusion.

“Th’ only taming I can do is by killin’ it, Pa,” Lanius huffed, remembering the time that he fell into a grey Pincushion and had to have his mother take the small pins out of him for hours.

Hirun laughed, “You can tame anything from th’ Wilds if you get it to trust you.”

His father instructed him to put his palms out. Lanius held his breath as the Pincushion was put into his palm. He fully expected to be pricked, but instead was disoriented by the soft, pillow-like texture of the plant. Hirun laughed at his expression, watching as his son’s confused face turned to one of excitement as the boy poked at the baby Pincushion.

“Pincushions are just plant pillows without their spikes,” Hirun explained.

“Even th’ growing spikes are duller than a used-up pike.”

Lanius tested it, and it was true; the greyish spikes were dull, almost bendable, but decided against hurting the growing plant. Pulling one spike from a Pincushion caused it to bleed, as its internal makeup only allowed for the spikes to be released by their own pressure. Plus, a Pincushion’s blood was toxic, and Lanius didn’t want to deal with that at the moment.

“I knew a man who got Pincushions to shoot by command,” Hirun said, motioning for his son to follow him back to the campsite. Lanius placed the baby Pincushion on one hand while he carried his pike in the other, trailing behind Hirun as they walked back to their camp.

“How’d he do it? Lanius asked, still poking at the Pincushion. The spikes protruded slightly whenever it was poked, but not enough to be shot out.

“He grew his own,” Hirun laughed fondly.

“Th’ man was crazy, but no one could get past his barrier once all those little spikes had grown. It was as if Hense smiled down on that man to have th’ Pincushions under his command.”

“Do you think I can tame one?”

Hirun didn’t turn back, but Lanius could hear the smile in his father’s voice.

“You got a big heart, and an even bigger bite, son,” he said.

“I know you can tame th’ Wilds better than your mother and I have.”

Lanius beamed, looking back to the baby Pincushion on his hand as they continued walking back.

They had set up camp in a clearing a few meters away from a lake. As they got closer, the faint sound of strumming filled the air. Lanius’s mother Lusci, an Ura woman also in her late-30s, was playing her lute with her eyes fixed on the instrument. The fire that she sat by had a small metal cauldron hanging above it and a spicy fragrance wafed from it. Hirun walked over to the cauldron to give it a quick stir, a small sip, and a few spices from his pack. Lanius skipped over to his mother who gave him a smile but still continued to play a slow and graceful tune.

“A new friend, hm?” she asked. Lanius presented it to her, and with a giggle Lusci poked at it gently before telling him to put it down.

“If you press right in the middle, all the spikes will come out, but won’t fire. Think of it like a button for a trap.”

The boy did as she said. After putting the plant on the mat they sat on, he pressed the top of the Pincushion. The rounded thorns of the Pincushions protruded out like a trap. Lanius clapped in delight, eyes with excitement as the Pincushion’s spikes retracted after sensing no danger.

Hirun sat beside Lusci, giving her a quick peck on the lips. Lanius stuck his tongue out at them in playful disgust at their display of affection but gave into a family hug. When the son pulled himself away, he got a good look at both of his parents. Being frontliners of the war made them look older than they were, but both were still young and curious at heart. Lanius had the Caelondian complexion, but had his father’s platinum hair with streaks of black from his mother. This look didn’t help with fitting in. All the other children his age would spread rumors about him and his family, all of which fell into deaf ears because of his parents’ positions in the army. He didn’t see the need to fit in with the rest though—was more than happy with his family who, even as a Brusher and a Trapper, always made time to spend together.

“Lanius?”

He snapped out of his thoughts with a blink, and Lanius realized he was crying.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” Lusci said worriedly. The boy wiped his tears, laughing weakly as he tackled his mother into a hug. His father patted Lanius’s back comfortingly.

“I’m sorry, Ma...” he choked out.

“…I’m just really happy.”

“And we’re happy too,” Hirun said, ruffling his hair. Lanius whined about his hair, to which his mother swatted her husband’s hand away to “protect” her son from his grubby hands.

They laughed in the end, the night filling with their voices as they passed their time with a hearty soup and cheerful music. Hirun played his guitar, Lusci played her flute, and Lanius played his panpipe; the mix of strings and winds collectively merged into the calls and sounds of the Wilds around them.

It was midnight by the time Lanius was tucked into bed by his mother as Hirun was outside putting out the fire. Lusci kissed her son’s forehead with a goodnight, but before she could leave he was called back.

“Ma… could ya tell me more about th’ Gods?”

Lusci paused for a moment before shaking her head with a smile. She sat cross legged beside her son, the only lightsource in the tent being an oil lamp on the corner of the tent.

“I’ll tell you about Olak, the God of Chance and Whim,” she started, resting her chin on her palm as Lanius listened.

“He was called ‘The Carefree Son’, kinda like you, don’cha think?”

“Maybe,” Lanius yawned.

“When he saw an opportunity, he took it without a second thought. If you were in a situation that needed a good outcome, he was the one to turn to. Only the ones with fearless, wild hearts were blessed with the luck of the young god. Wherever the wind blew, Olak followed with it.”

“Is that why th’ pinwheel is his symbol?”

“That’s what my father told me, but a couple of other folks may tell you otherwise.”

Lanius rubbed his eyes, feeling the drowsiness kick in, “I wanna follow th’ wind wherever it goes, Ma.”

By this time, Hirun quietly entered the tent. Before he could speak Lusci held a finger to her lips before pointing a thumb to their sleepy son. He smiled before going over to the side of the tent to fix their bedrolls.

“You wanna follow the wind?” Lanius’s mother said amusedly.

“How’re you gonna do that, son?”

“Dunno. I’ll just fly and let th’ wind take to wherever it thinks is best.”

“And what if it ain’t pretty?”

“Just ‘cause it ain’t pretty doesn’t mean we can’t get somethin’ outta it.”

There’s another big yawn, and Lanius snuggled into his bedroll.

“I’ll… I’ll make th’ most outta it. ”

Lusci watched as his son’s eyes closed, and she smiled to herself as he fell asleep.

“That’s my boy,” she giggled, getting up and walking to her bedroll to rest for the night as well.

>>>

The morning came harsher than expected. Lanius was awoken with the loud screeches of Peckers, and his instincts got him reaching for his weapons before he realized both Thorn and Thistle were gone from his side. The sun was barely peeking out of the horizon as he kicked himself off the floor and out of the distillery. From there, he saw his two Fledglings fighting off a figure with a… Cael Hammer?

Lanius doesn’t have time to take it in as Thorn was hit with the brunt force of the hammer. Panic coursed through his veins as he ran over to the bird in a dash. The attacker paused, not expecting another human in the Wilds as he watched Lanius crouch down and cradle the Fledgling protectively, carbine out and loaded.

He had the gun pointed with only a few feet of distance between the boy and the barrel. Lanius gave a shrill whistle, to which Thistle followed by whizzing over to sit on the man’s shoulder. The purple-crowned Fledgling cawed menacingly at the boy. With a standstill, Lanius had time to get a good look at the attacker.

It didn’t take a genius to see that the boy was a Caelondian. With white hair and tanned skin, the built figure, numerous scars, and worn-down armor was enough to tell Lanius that the kid could put up a serious fight. He had a firm grip on his hammer, and it looked like he wasn’t going to put it down anytime soon.

“I’ll drop my gun if ya put down th’ hammer,” Lanius suggested, lowering his carbine. There was hesitation, but the boy’s hammer was lowered from a readied attack. Lanius cussed in Ura, looking down at Thorn who was chirping weakly at the man.

“You pack quite a hit with that thing, huh,” Lanius muttered, carrying Thorn in his arms as Thistle chirped worriedly. The boy didn’t reply; he didn’t look like the talking type. He also looked worse for wear, with his clothes and bandages cut in several places as caused by his Fledglings. With a sigh, he gestured to the distillery.

“Come in. I’ll treat you to some tonics to get you patched up.”

Lanius didn’t wait for the stranger to answer. He headed straight for the bar and behind it, opening some of the shelves to reveal supplies and drinks. Thistle landed on the bar table as the stranger took a seat, and began to peck at the boy in anger for attacking her brother. Lanius silenced her with a quick whistle, and the Fledgling deflated in defeat.

“Here,” he said, passing over a shot of Bastion Bourbon and a full Health Tonic.

“I made ‘em myself,” he explained, putting Thorn down on the table. Thistle immediately hopped over to her brother, pressing her head against him in worry.

“They got more of a kick than what most distilleries have, and I assume you can taste th’ difference. You look like you take tonics on a daily basis.”

When Lanius collected a few medicines for his bird, he turned back to the stranger to see him examining the bottles with uncertainty. He couldn’t blame him honestly, maybe the boy thought he would get poisoned from them.

“C’mon now, I don’t spike my drinks with anythin’,” Lanius pouted, walking over to where he laid Thorn to work on the bird’s wounds. The stranger was still cautious, and Lanius chuckled to himself before pouring a shot of bourbon from the same bottle.

“Cheers.”

A moment passed, but the boy picked up his shot and clinked it against the man’s glass. They both downed it quickly. He isn’t one for drinks so early in the morning, but you couldn’t go wrong with Bastion Bourbon. The distiller watched as the boy popped open the tonic and drank half of it in one go. Lanius could figure out a person by the way they drank, and this one was clearly a fighter with nothing to lose.

“Th’ name’s Lanius,” he started as he began checking over Thorn’s wounds. Other than some missing feathers, nothing was broken.

“Yours?”

The stranger told him to call him Kid. It probably wasn’t his real name, but it would have to do.

“What brings you this side of the Wilds?”

He shrugged and gestured to Lanius as a way to deflect the question.

“I live here,” he stated as a matter-of-fact. Lanius paused as Thorn started to thrash in pain at the salve on an open wound. He heard a quiet sorry coming from the Kid, to which he waved his free hand to dismiss him.

“I don’t blame ya for attacking them, I would’ve done the same if they were wild Peckers,” Lanius said.

Once the salve was applied and wrapped over, Thorn pushed himself out of his prone position before jumping down to the floor. He chirped for his sister, and Thistle hopped down in suit as the both of them began to play with one another. Lanius glanced over to the Kid. He had an expression of curiosity.

“Purple one’s Thistle, the orange one is Thorn,” Lanius said, resting his chin on his palm as they watched the birds play.

“I rescued them just before an Anklegator could get to the abandoned nest. The mother left them there to die after seeing a big threat.”

The Kid grunted in affirmation.

Lanius took it as a sign of warming up.

“Sorry to be a bit forward with you, but are there other survivors?”

The Kid turned to him and nodded. Lanius thought he would be ecstatic about more people who were alive, but why did he just feel pain?

“How many people reached the Bastion?”

Four fingers. Lanius assumed the Kid was a part of that four.

“Are two of those survivors... a couple? About 50 years old by now, a Cael and an Ura?”

The answer was a no, and Lanius slouched unto the table. He knew it was too good to be true if his parents had reached the Bastion. On the day of the Calamity, they were gone without a trace. If they had to fight something or someone they wouldn’t go down without bloodshed, and if they turned into stone then he would’ve found their statues (or ashes) by now. Lanius held his hair in frustration at the thought, before something was pressed against his arm.

Lanius looked up to see the Kid pushing a City Crest to him. His eyes widened, and memories of his time in Caelondia flooded back to him. He picked up the cog carefully, examining it. It was a genuine Caelondian City Crest, and despite being worn down the Kid definitely held it in high regard.

“What’d you do to get this?” Lanius asked.

The Kid took a swig of the Health Tonic before answering it was earned from two shifts on the Rippling Walls.

Immediately, Lanius slammed his free hand on the bar (he was conscious enough to not slam on the crest). The impact wasn’t enough to topple anything, but it was enough to shock the Kid. Thistle and Thorn squawked in surprise, their feathers ruffled by the way their keeper raised his voice.

“So you’re th’ one who took two terms!” Lanius gasped. The Kid simply blinked at him.

“By Pyth—that’s insane! Why?”

The Kid’s eyes looked down to his glass. He doesn’t say anything, but it was clear it was a sore subject.

“I... I apologize,” he apologized quietly, feeling a familiar sting in his chest at the thought of it.

The Kid shrugged, not to brush it off completely but to assure Lanius.

He picked up his empty shot glass and gestured it towards the distiller. He commended Lanius’s craftsmanship in his spirits.

Lanius chuckled, “I was trained by th’ best.”

Wherever the “best” was anyway. Lanius didn’t know where Griffin, the old man who ran the distillery he worked in, ended up in. If he ended up in ashes, they were probably blown unto the oblivion caused by the Calamity. If he was alive, then chances were slim for a man of his age and physicality to reach the Bastion. Griffin would’ve probably been in his 60s if he was still kicking.

He stood up straight before going over to the shelves. The distiller opened a cabinet to reveal a selection of several spirits, and even some that the Kid didn’t recognize.

“Anything that catches your fancy?” he asked.

The Kid asked for the best. Lanius caught a small crack of a smile, and in his mind he wondered if they both of them would’ve gotten along back in the days before the Calamity. They seemed more similar then one would think.

“I make a great Stabsinthe. Only with th’ meanest Stabweeds around.”

He took a half-full bottle from the shelf and placed it on the table. Unlike the usual bottles that were given in most distilleries, the neck of the lid was colored pink that faded into green and then black. Lanius popped the bottle open and poured its contents into both of their glasses, showing a transparent lime liquid with a strong floral and citrus scent.

“Im’ma let you in on a secret,” Lanius said as he finished pouring. The Kid tilted his head at him.

“Most distillers just take th’ thorns, which is understandable, that's how everyone makes ‘em… but what they don’t know is that th’ rest of th’ plant brings it all together.”

Lanius took his glass and swirled it in his hand. The Kid followed.

“If you look real close, the drink’s got some pink sparkle within all that green. That’s thanks to Stabweed flowers--in the base of the lil’ thing contains some nectar, which most distilleries end up selling to flower shops and the like. Have at it, but be careful,”

Their glasses clinked.

“It’s sharp.”

They downed their drinks. Lanius finished with a content sigh, feeling the slight burn of alcohol and citrus fade into a sweet drink. He watched as the Kid took a moment to settle, and the only response he got from the silent stranger was a strong huff. Lanius laughed as he let the Kid spit some small thorns off to the side. The man does the same, turning away as he spat the thorns to the floor.

“Probably hadn’t had a drink that good before, huh?” Lanius chuckled.

Before the Kid could answer, he’s cut off by Thorn and Thistle who land on his shoulders. Both birds were curious about a newcomer who kept their keeper in a good mood. The Kid shuffled through a side pouch on his bet before taking out a couple of seeds. Both Fledglings immediately puffed their feathers as they jumped on the table, excitedly waiting for a snack. Lanius watched quietly as the stranger and his birds played around.

The Kid was younger than him definitely, possibly by a decade. His white hair probably didn’t do him any favors, just as Lanius’s blonde and black hair did. His eyes are strong and determined, but hold deep scars and sadness from the Calamity. Whatever made him take two shifts on the Rippling Walls, travel as far into the Wilds as he is now, and open up to a stranger like Lanius was beyond him. The Kid’s probably seen a lot more than Lanius, and that was saying a lot. At least his birds liked him; the instincts of an animal were better than a human, and if they didn’t see him as a threat anymore then that was a good sign.

Once the birds were satisfied, they wandered off to play again. Lanius went to pour another shot of Stabinsthe for the both of them, but stopped short of the Kid’s glass when he placed his hand over it. The distiller looked at him puzzled.

The Kid shook his head and asked if Lanius wanted to return to the Bastion with him.

“I never considered the Bastion to be true,” Lanius answered, capping the bottle.

“I assumed that it fell along with th’ rest of Caelondia.”

The Kid thought the same thing, but now it was airborne, with three other survivors with space to spare for more. Lanius thought the airborne part was a joke, but the Kid didn’t look like the type to joke around on matters such as this. He asked once more if Lanius wanted to join them.

“Not sure ‘bout that, Kid,” Lanius said honestly.

“I’ve been livin’ off the Wilds ever since the start of the Calamity. Call me crazy, but it’s a home.”

Lanius was questioned on whether or not he wanted to explore more than just the Wilds. The man considered it for a moment.

“I’ve always wanted to fly, I guess... past th’ winds of the Skyway.”

The Kid offered the chance at flight then. He didn’t need to stay if he didn’t want to, but his chances at surviving at the rate of the Calamity was slimmer if he stayed on falling ground. Lanius commended the Kid for being rather convincing, and the reply was a shrug.

Lanius sighed, walking over to the side of the bar to pick up some things.

“Thorn. Thistle.”

Both birds perked up at the call. They flew over the counter on either side of the Kid and waited patiently as Lanius placed two small satchels. The bags seemed to be modified so as to not deter their flight.

“We’re moving out again.”

They chirped affirmatively.

“But not to the Wilds.”

Thorn was silent, and Thistle chirped in protest. They immediately turned to the Kid, who raised both his hands in defense. Lanius chuckled to himself, lugging a pack over his shoulder with his pike and carbine with him. The Kid asked what he would do with all of his drinks, and Lanius glanced to the shelf.

“Might as well leave these here for any passin’ soul,” he said, checking inventory. There were about one of each drink, and a couple of tonics. It wasn’t a problem; Lanius always left the extra he made. Maybe the Kid had put them to good use when he traveled the Wilds.

“You better have a Distillery back at th’ Bastion, or I’m leavin’.”

The Kid nodded.

From there, they headed out. Lanius directed the Kid to the safest and fastest path to a Skyway, in which he thanked him for. As a Trigger he stayed behind the Kid with his hammer, with one bird flying just to their left and right. It was somewhat nostalgic, to go through the Wilds with someone—it reminded him of his days before the Calamity. Lanius looked back at the distillery he was leaving behind; the one home he had after everything went down, and he was now moving off to somewhere permanent.

Just as they reached the Skyway, the Kid pointed up. There, Lanius gaped at the looming shape of an airborne Bastion. From atop, he could see three figures waving down at them. They were too far to be recognizable, but their friendly gesture was enough to bring a smile.

Lanius watched as the Kid took off, carried off by the winds and up to the Bastion. His fledglings followed after without question. Lanius stood just a step away. The breeze blew over him, its whispers speaking to him. One side of it telling him to turn back to the Wilds, and the other beckoning a new wind.

The wild bird has had a few old nests in the past, but he figured it was about time to settle for something new. Lanius imagined that the God of Chance and Whim was smiling down at him at this very moment, and who was he to defy Olak’s blessing in the form of a chance?

He was always one to follow the winds, and with a smile he did.