#cw: foot injury

[talesofmetalandmagic]

BadThingsHappenBingo – Episode IV

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: League of Legends (Shurima)

Characters: Emperor Omah Azir, Nasus

Prompt: this is for your own good

Synopsis: Azir’s nightmare is over – after completing his torturous indenture at Xerath’s temple and buried alive inside a sealed coffin, the ex-Emperor is welcomed by familiar arms and readied for the comfort, healing and care he’d longed for and needed. But the scars left by the Magus Ascended are greater than they seem.

In the early days, a prisoner at the quarry in the scorching sun, Azir had believed Xerath's plan to be simple.

An Ascended in rags, who spends his days in fatigue and his nights in humiliating solitude, lives constantly immersed in pain. Pain in the heart and in the head, pain in the mouth and in the thoughts, pain even in the future. He didn't hear the coffin close – he didn't even know he was inside a box, except after many headbutts and empty kicks – but he understood, after hours, maybe days, locked up in the dark, with the spiked belt so tight that it pierced even the muscle, that pain was its life now.

But now it's over. Everything will change. I am with Nasus, my protector, and when I recover… oh, Xerath will have to kiss my hands, and wet them with his tears as I have.

It’s such a beautiful fantasy that, as soon as he was freed, he seemed to touch it with his hand. It was a girl who delivered him from the coffin – a proud daughter of Shurima whose grace has not been touched even by the Void; she did not recognize him, and her manners were harsh, but like caresses compared to Xerath's. She gave him water to drink, a shady place to rest – water and shade, the mothers of life – and a non-imperial cloak, but of good quality, to cover the misery of her tortured and plucked body.

And when Nasus held him again in his arms, on that warm, furry chest where he sought refuge when his entire family was ripped apart piece by piece, he had felt happiness so close.

But without touching it, no. A moment later he had shifted the cloak, and the luminous eyes of his teacher had descended on his body, wrapped in the rags of the same cassock that Xerath had placed on him more than a year before; on his chest protruding through the holes in the canvas, his ribs showing under the patches of plucked and shredded skin. The swollen dewclaws – pododermatitis, the plague of hawks – but of real ones, not the Ascended ones like me, who hurt even just resting on the sand. One shoulder higher than the other, where he held up the heavy stones of the temple; the crooked and blunt shape of the beak, the swollen and bleary eyes, the wormholes sharp against the flesh – it hurts when he breathes, they are devouring him, you like divine flesh, you scoundrels. He squeezes Nasus so hard he can hear him whine, but he doesn't dare pull away.

It's as if he still had the casket on, chained heavier, thicker by the second. Don't leave me, I don't want to sink. He can't do that, he's an emperor, Sivir is watching him. What will she think of him, so prostrate.

Don't forget, my greatest granddaughter, that I was taken prisoner because of you. You are my debtor. But Azir remains silent, because Taliyah is watching him too, and he really doesn't want to feel guilty. Though all she's said to him since her tough Voidling friend has wandered off into the sunset has been “Make yourself comfortable, Azir. You will have everything you need to heal. Your troubles are over."

Well. If the little girl is going to promise him a safe haven from that year of torment, may it hurry and get there. At the moment it is enough that Nasus is at his side, because his careful hands make even the worms in her body less painful. The sun is setting, and Shurima is so beautiful, caressed by the sunset, that he almost regrets retiring inside his tent to let a hot bath strip away the remains of that terrible year.

Not even my tent is imperial. A bed of furs and cotton, with a single pillow, a clay tub to wash the face, a foldable stool instead of a bedside table, a handful of scented candles for atmosphere; and the bath in which Nasus helps him settle down is a wooden tub covered with a sheet, a far cry from the plated metal tubs of his old travels. When she leans back against it something moves under his flesh, and it stings so deeply that Azir lets out a shriek.

-What do you want me to do with this unworthy dress?- Nasus lifts the ragged, musty tunic he's worn all that awful year with his fingertips. Azir clenches the edges of his beak. -Burn it. Toss it in the fire. I don't want to see it anymore.-

-You will have much more suitable clothes after your bath, I assure you. Young Sivir has procured for you a regal linen robe, hand-embroidered, and a soft, warm silk and pearl shawl. That girl has a thousand resources.-

How precious, she gave me a gift. HIs best descendant hasn't forgotten who she's dealing with. Getting back into his imperial fineries should help him recover, to see himself when he looks in the mirror. Everything like before. How it was supposed to go.

Now think only of relaxing, my lord.- Nasus drags the ragged robe on the ground, leaving a furrow in the sand. -Hot water will invigorate you. If you want, I'll give you a massage later. Think of the good things that will come and everything will seem sweeter.-

Nasus disappears over the edge of the tent. Azir closes his eyes - it's dark, and the wind whipping the walls of the tent is the only way out of the silence. He opens his eyes again, panting against the hot water. With the corner of his eye he sees the Curator opening a medicine box and pulling out bottle after bottle of all the essences he’d bathe with back home. 

And yet, not a word comes to his beak. 

He didn't make me sad. A pair of maggots float to the surface of the tank: Nasus scoops them up with a slotted spoon and throws them into a jar hanging beside him, but Azir has seen them all right. I am without happiness.

-You like it?-

No, I don't like anything. The water is soft, against the skin, and glides naturally under the feathers. His good teacher has also brought a massage brush, how nice; but on the other hand, bathing the Emperor is not the job of the Curator of the Sands. He's an Ascended, no less than him. He wants to tell him to leave, but being alone makes him shiver under the hot water. He gives him a nod, but nothing more.

-My Lord…-

-Go ahead. I still smell like that box.-

Nasus sighs, squeezes his shoulder. Azir retracts into his feathers. Why am I afraid of him? He wants to help me, he cares. Xerath's lies ate his head like maggots, and he still feels their bites in his flesh. He relaxes in the water, watching him work. He files the sides and the tip of its beak, until it regains its usual wedge-moon shape, and rubs its pierced surface with sweet almond oil. He combs the feathers on its head, nape and shoulders, plucking the ticks one by one; he crushes them behind him with a flat stone and rubs each of the sores with hot wine. Then he moves on to his arms, and having reached his hands, he files and anoints the broken nails one by one and wraps up the blackened one of his thumb with fresh gauze.

I'm coming home. That splendid teacher is ripping Xerath from his skin, one piece at a time. But if so – he would like to tear his feathers out of anger – why does he still feel so empty.

-Hey.- The jackal-man's soft hand strokes his chin and lifts it up. Another order from Xerath, keep your head down at all times. You are not worthy to hold your head up. Who do you think you are, the Emperor? He strokes her cheeks, smoothing out the torn, skeletal feathers.

-You are still beautiful. A splendid royal hawk.-

Stop it. I know flattery when I see it. He has a terrible headache, he just wants to sleep, but he already knows that the worms and larvae will torment him. Nasus smiles at him, his childhood smile. -I understand that you are saddened, but it won't take long for you to recover. You have the strong backbone of your family.-

That is dead. Azir places his hand on the edge of the tub for the Curator to caress it. What soft fingers. His fur makes them even more delicate. They are made for beautiful things, those hands: playing the oud and the benet, writing treatises on history and philosophy, embroidering the finest silks and painting portraits of the royal family in lapis lazuli, purple and gold leaf. He shouldn't pluck insects from the dry feathers of a walking falcon carcass. Nor should he…

Azir closes his eyes, he can't help it.

-Nasus?-

The Curator stops massaging him and moves in front of him. -Yes?-

-My spurs hurt so much. Look at them, please. I think it is…-

-I’ll bring you a support, my lord.-

Nasus carries a sackcloth pillow and rests his spurs on it with the delicacy of one holding a crystal. He still hurts, but he tried. He bows his head, looks at the soles of his feet. The Curator of the Sands' face twitches. -Pododermatitis. My poor little bird…-

Nasus shakes his head, draws back, wipes his hands with a rag. -I'll take it off right away, don't worry.- he turns his back to him and opens the box at his feet: the blade of a box cutter sparkles in Azir's shiny eye, and he sweats cold again.

-Couldn't we do it tomorrow?-

-I'm sorry, my lord. The infection should be eliminated as soon as possible.-

-Your Emperor orders you not,- Azir murmurs. He doesn't have the right tone, the tone of command. If he had spoken thus to Xerath he would have slapped him to tears, starved him for days, chained him in the sun, sealed him in that awful falconry hood, or beaten him to the sand with his royal blood. Nasus should obey a whisper from him, be loyal to him. He really can't have lost that much.

-My lord.- Nasus sighs, rubbing his forehead. -I beg you. I do it for you. You will suffer more if you do not let me act now. I'll try to hurry, limit the pain.-

Limit the pain. Xerath would never accept something like this. And with each breath the lumps on his dew-joints ache more, swollen and hard as boulders. Azir dips a towel in warm water, dabs his sweaty forehead – hawks don't sweat, they shouldn't – and he drops onto the pillows.

He nods.

When Nasus finishes washing his paws and pulls his leather gloves on, Azir looks away.

-Do not be afraid, my eyes. It's just a small cut.- he touches the injured part with the tip of his index finger; Azir seethes, for it burns.

-Take it slow, please.-

-You'll be better when I'm done.-

It's the during that I don't like. He still had his baby teeth when his dour father taught him how to deal with footpad dermatitis in hawks. He seems to hear it, close to his ear: one hand on his shoulder, the other on the wand of punishment. Don't get distracted, Azir. One cuts on the leg of the bird of prey with a sterile blade, at the height of the swelling; then the sides of the bubo are pressed until the infection crawls out, and it is bathed in hot wine to clean the wound. Only then, if the Solar Disc is merciful, can the bandage be provided.

-Do you want something to hold in your beak? Or a sleeping pill, to feel less.- Nasus asks. Azir shakes his head. Let it not be said that the Emperor of the Sands is afraid of pain.

He has two lumps on his left toes and a bigger one on his right where the three dewclaws meet at the ankle. The Curator addresses the smaller ones first; he rubs the meat with hot wine, warms the blade in the flame of one of the candles to keep it sterile. If he didn't know what was coming, Azir would be delighted to watch him work.

He almost doesn't feel the cut, from how thick the bubo is on his paw. As Nasus' crooked fingers approach his paw, pressing the sides of the wound, Azir tilts his head back and clenches his fists in the still warm water.

-I'll do it as quickly as possible.-

-Better for t- AH!-

The pain travels up the paw and bites like tiny teeth into the cartilage. Something thick and soft descends along the skin of the spur, immediately picked up by the rag soaked in wine. Nasus rests it on his arm and rests his fingers again on its edges: Azir contracts, closing his beak.

- Ouch! Slowly, damn it!-

- Breathe, my lord. This is almost done.-

Azir clings to the sides of the tub until the wood creaks and he has to let go. Why doesn’t my master want to help me either... but it's a fleeting thought, which he suffocates shivering in the warm, perfumed water. Nasus has been looking for me, he loves me. He can't be foolish enough to believe that medicine is painless, not even three thousand years later.

-A deep breath…- says Nasus. Azir inflates his lungs and opens his beak, while Nasus' fingers press against the cartilage. Something bursts in the lump on the paw, a pain that sinks deep into the flesh. He'd scream if he didn't know that Sivir and Taliyah were sitting out there having a non-Imperial conversation, and he knows what ideas he'd get if he heard him scream like a capon.

And so it is that when Nasus returns to crush the wound, Azir grips his beak so hard that gristle dust fills his palate. A mouthful of bitter flour. Then he’ll wrap them up for me, and I'll run again like a true warrior. 

The knife sinks again, something thick and sludgy slithers down his talon. Azir squeaks. -Stop it, stop it!-

Nasus slams the knife against the edge of the tub. -Not that I enjoy it, my lord.-

-Someone else had enough fun.-

Nasus takes a deep breath. -Don't treat me like I'm Xerath. I want your good.-

-I said I don't want to!- Azir hates feeling like a child throwing a tantrum, but asking nicely doesn't seem to touch the Jackal's ears. -Why don't you respect me either? Have I lost so much authority?-

Nasus takes a deep breath, baring his teeth. He takes off his gloves, wipes his hands, and sits down on the stool beside him.

-I know how you feel. Even the older ones find themselves in situations they can't control.-

Azir closes his eyes, shrugging in the aromatic tub. Not even his favorite perfumes – they are all there, even the very rare irises of Icathia – are able to restore his old skin.

-It’s all so strange.- Even the pain in the buboes, where Nasus pressed hard, is slipping away. If Xerath were there, he'd do one of his damned tricks and plant that pain in his flesh forever, until he forgot he wasn't born with it. And then he’d probably hood him for good measure.  

-I can't imagine being here,- he murmurs. -Free. With one of my dearest.-

Nasus's white teeth peek out from under his hairy muzzle. How many kisses did you give me when I was little. He touched it all the time, laughing, so soft and wet. It wasn't proper, much less imperial, but he liked it.

-Me neither, honey. I believed that…-

Do not say that. There must be something in his eyes that frightens the curator if he stops talking and looks away. Motionless, breathless, Azir watches him breathe – his muscles are so tense that they seem to tear, and not seeing his face is wrong.

You too, my sweet curator? You too, I made suffer so much?

But Nasus calms down, sits down again, and smiles at him as if they were still in the old days.

-Let's not think about it, my eyes. We’re safe. You’re free and you are with me, and I will help you rise to shine again.-

They are nice words, but meaningless. It's as if Nasus is talking to someone else who isn't there; even being moved, somehow, as if he cared. Impossible, for a wise man like him – but Azir, who has a headache the more he tries to think, sees no other explanation.

-It hurts now, but it's the prelude to a great rebirth.- Nasus rinses his gloves with a flask and retrieves the wine-soaked rag. He wets it until it drips and goes back to dabbing at the hot spots on the buboes. -You will heal, and you’ll be better. I'll give you a massage later, if that pleases you. I will wrap you in warm linen and lay you down in the warmth. If you want, I'll prepare you something to drink or eat.-

Azir would like to answer, but he has no words in his parched throat. He would like to yell at him because – because he is doing it, that wonderful sweet healer who already raised him with his real parents, receiving in return a pain that would break a whole mountain. He is no longer the emperor, or at least he doesn't seem to be. He hasn't been there in the three thousand years of agony that ruined him, to hold his hand and keep his fractured mind afloat. He didn't give him anything.

Yet he’s here. And his mouth trembles – which is hardly imperial.

Azir swallows, clutches the wet rag in trembling hands, and looks away from the first smile of his life.

-Let's go ahead, please.-

With the wound clean, Azir looks at his bound spurs as if they belonged to someone else. He would like to have real feet, to cover them with shoes or at least socks, and not having to see yet another shame before his eyes. Even the bath water is getting lukewarm, and he's going to have to go out soon. It would be the last word, to be carried in his arms by his master.

-Now, now.- Nasus snatches the blood-slicked gloves from his paws and throws them onto an empty plate. He wets his paws with more water and dries them staining the rag red. He sits down behind Azir, so that his chest is behind his head. It's softer than his pillow.

-You have been very brave, my lord.-

Courage is shown in battle, leading an army or running an empire. It's clear that Nasus wants to flatter him, but whatever Xerath kept saying, he's not stupid. The Curator wraps his shoulders in a cuddle and kisses the nape of his neck with the soft canine muzzle. Azir feels a knot of tears rise in his chest: he stiffens, he mustn't go out. Nasus has to rely on him, as does everyone else.

I am the Emperor. I am the Emperor. No, you're not, Xerath says deep in his heart. He's been hearing that voice the whole time, locked up in the box. All your fault, you deserve it all. He rests his head on Nasus's chest and basks in it, clinging to his warmth like a security blanket.

He wanted to save me, he cared. It's because of Xerath that he didn't find me.

-It's all right, my little one. All right.- Nasus hugs him tighter, his hairy cheek against Azir's feathered nape. -Tonight you will sleep in a nice warm bed, and tomorrow a delicious breakfast awaits you. You will have silk robes, jewels, all the equipment of an emperor. I also have a tiara, if you like.-

But what's the use, my Nasus, if I'm no longer worthy to wear them? Azir hugs his master even tighter, and the jackal-man's steady hands massage his shoulders. No, you don't have to. You're the Curator, and an Ascended, not a run-of-the-mill servant.

Certainly it is no more shameful than what he did.

He slips out of the tub, clinging to his caretaker's steady hand, his muscular arm supporting his armpits and back, his bandaged spurs pulsating at evert breath he takes, and lets Nasus wrap him in a sheet warmed by the bonfire.

-You will be well, my lord. I promise you. I won't leave you anymore.-

We'll be alone then. Azir rests his head on his shoulder, for the second time, and lets his protector's hairy arms surround him like precious armor.     

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Chapter 4

Dew tries to protect his pack, but it's harder than he anticipated.

Rating: M Content: mild descriptions of violence and death, injury, peril, (wrongful) imprisonment Words: 4130

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Hello tag alert ghesties @revengeghoulette @everybodyshusband! If anyone wants to be added/removed from this list just lmk! 🥰

Read below, or on AO3!

Ghouls were functionally immortal creatures, even when they lived topside in clans or amongst humans. They were immune to most diseases and any accident or natural disaster would simply return them to the pit, unharmed. Ghouls who failed to care for their vessels through starvation and neglect would meet the same fate. Life was easier down below, albeit less enjoyable, with many elderly ghouls choosing to return voluntarily. Despite all of this when there was intent to kill, ghouls were just as mortal as humans.

~~~~~~~

Dew burst through the door to the cottage, almost ripping it off his hinges. Before he had a chance to warn his packmates of what he'd seen, he was met with an equally concerning sight: Swiss was sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands and whimpering in pain. Mountain was knelt in front of him trying to coax his hands away from his face, while Aether had returned and was hovering behind him looking lost and panicked.

"What's happened?” Dew almost shrieked, surprising himself at the pitch of his voice.

“Swiss had a vision,” Aether wrung his hands anxiously, “Nothing specific, but look how it's left him!”

Swiss let out a deep wail, like the mournful bellow of a whale. His tail curled around Aether's calf, constricting tightly and making the ghoul wince in pain.

“It hurts, Aeth! Make it stop!”

Aether frantically locked eyes with Mountain.

“I can't give him any more quintessence, he'll go mad!”

“Please calm down Snapdragon, try and breathe!” Mountain looked near tears himself.

Together, the huddle of terrified ghouls followed each other's shaky breaths until Swiss was able to speak clearly.

“Something's very wrong, all I can see is pain! But I don't know who's!”

“It's Rain,” Dew panted, “Something's wrong with Rain, I saw it. Dark clouds over Wilkins’ farm, his magic must have got out of control!”

The three larger ghouls looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean, lost control?” Mountain asked, “Rain's not got enough power to lose control of yet.” he looked at Dew sternly, “He's perfectly capable of moistening a field or two on his own, no matter what you think of him. This has to be something else.”

Dew shook his head furiously.

“There are storm clouds over Farmer Wilkins' that aren't natural, they've got to be from Rain!”

"Swiss' vision...” muttered Aether, “if it's all connected...”

“Then we have to get out of here.” finished Dewdrop, “Someone's got to go and find him before the humans do!”

"Maybe we should keep a low profile until we know what's happening?” Mountain suggested. “Swiss is in no state to move right now, it's probably just an unexpected summer storm.”

“If we rush over all guns blazing it will attract even more attention that a freak rainstorm, then we'd all be in danger.” Aether said, nodded slowly in agreement. “Rain won't be back for ages anyway, he only just left.”

Dew looked between his packmates, appalled. They were happy to just wait things out when their most vulnerable packmate could be in danger? Maybe it was residual guilt over his comments that morning, but Dewdrop felt he had a responsibility to ensure the young ghoul's safety. They were pack, after all.

“So you're just going to sit here?” the silence from the larger ghouls was all Dew needed to hear. If they were prepared to just sit and wait until Rain was due home before doing anything, he would have to fix this himself. Dew turned on his heel and bolted back out the door he had just entered through, his golden hair swinging behind him the only response to the upset shouts of his packmates.

Dewdrop set off into town, jogging along the hedgerows to stay hidden. The sun overhead taunted him, belying the icy fear in his veins. As he got closer to town Dew ducked into the shadows, creeping through alleyways to stay hidden. Nearer the centre, he picked up Rain’s scent. His normally sweet essence of kelp and lemongrass was acrid and burned, the smell of fear unmistakable.

Scaling a wall, Dew leapt lightly down into the courtyard behind the town hall which was thankfully empty. Rain's scent was strongest here. He followed his nose across the area, staring in confusion up at the seemingly blank wall next to the building where the wafting smell of terror was so strong it made him feel nauseous. Looking around, wondering what could be behind it and if Rain could be there, he noticed a small metal grill at floor level. Dew crouched down to peer into the darkness and the continued stench of fear combined with filth and decay coming from inside made him retch.

His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness, until he could just make out the shapes inside. Curled up and chained to the far wall, was Rain. He was clutching his knees to his chest and gently rocking back and forth. Dew couldn't make out many details, but he could see the silhouette of Rain's unglamoured horns cast by the dim column of light from above.

“Rain!” Dew whispered. Rain made no sign of acknowledgement and continued his absent swaying.

"Rainy!” Dew hissed, louder this time. He saw Rain's ears twitch, and he turned his head to look at him. Even in the darkness, Rain's eyes were dim and blank. One clearly had a deep purple bruise around it, the eyelid swollen almost shut. He stared straight through Dew, without seeing him.

“Oh Rain, what have they done to you!” Dew whimpered instinctually at the sight of the broken and injured ghoul. “I'm going to get you out, okay? Hang in there, you're going to be alright!”

He pushed a soothing scent towards Rain, trying to comfort him. Rifling through his pockets, Dew found a small amount of dried fish wrapped in paper; his uneaten snack from that morning. He wriggled a hand through the iron bars, grateful for once that his arms were skinny enough to fit and tossed the little package towards Rain. It landed close to the water ghoul, his tail snaking out to prod at it when his chained arms couldn't reach.

“It's fish, eat it. I'll bring you more I promise!”

Getting to his feet, Dew brushed the dust from his knees while he considered his surroundings some more. The only way out of the courtyard was through the town hall itself, or back over the wall. He could melt the bars and get Rain out that way, he was just skinny enough to fit through the opening, but there was no way Rain had the strength to climb the wall alone in his state, and Dew wasn't capable of hauling them both up. He'd need to find another way out, or get the others to help.

Dew bent down again to whisper through the gap quickly, “I'm gonna find a way out Rain, I'll be back soon!” He gave what he hoped was an encouraging wave and jogged lightly over to the big oak door. It was tempting to try the main handle, but Dew knew that getting himself caught wouldn't help either of them. At least he would have the element of surprise though...

Forcing himself to consider other options before making the rashest, most impulsive decision, Dew spotted another small window, this one a floor higher up but without metal bars. The building thankfully had large gaps between bricks, just enough to form a few risky footholds. The rough edges of the stone were cold and foreboding under Dew's fingertips, but he eventually got hold of the windowsill. Dew pulled himself onto the narrow ledge, his skinny arms straining and his feet scrabbling against the rough stone, sighing in relief when he saw the inside of the room. It was a latrine, and even better it was unoccupied. Dew shimmied through the small opening and dropped to the floor below. He was in.

The tiny room was dark, the deep brown panelling on the walls and floor absorbing the small amount of light that filtered in the window behind Dew. He pressed his ear to the door and, hearing nothing, slipped into the corridor. The whitewashed walls stretched in both directions, a number of moulded arched alcoves thankfully providing him with some cover. The ceilings were high here, and the cold stone made every footstep echo.

Dew had only been in the large building once before, but he remembered where the main council room was, where he expected the townsfolk would be discussing Rain’s fate. He crept along the hallway, ears pricked like a guard dog, until the murmur of voices could be heard in the distance. Dew pressed himself into an alcove, behind a spindly plant that had seen better days. When it was clear the voices were not getting closer, he inched closer to them to try and pick out words.

Emerging from the long hallway, Dewdrop found himself in the open expanse of the staircase. The ceiling here was even higher, a peak in the centre supported by numerous crossing wooden beams. A vicious draft wafted up the cold stone stairs. Windows high in the wall cast beams of sunlight down onto the stairs, reflecting off the white lime walls in a way that made Dew feel very exposed where he stood.

The sound was clearly coming from the large chambers on the ground floor. He knew that the stairs led directly down into the main meeting hall, and walking down would be tantamount to the grand entrance of a bride at a wedding. He crouched out of sight at the top of the stairs and let the conversation drift to him.

“I always said they’d be trouble! How do you expect any of us to sleep soundly knowing these monsters live amongst us?”

“They’ve always been benevolent until now, maybe this was an accident?”

“Three people are dead Marcus, even if it was an accident he’s not safe to have around our children!”

Three people were dead? Well shit, thought Dewdrop, we really are fucked.

“What if this flood was just the start of it? We need to stamp out this witchcraft before they kill us all!”

“I say we hang him, and the rest too! Burn down the farm, and rid ourselves of these demons that walk the earth. If this is what the weakest one can do, what are the others capable of?”

“We owe it to ol’ Mr Wilkins after what that monster did to his daughter!”

“All in favour of hanging the demon?”

A chorus of ayes made Dew’s blood run cold.

A week. They'd given Rain a week. The mob had demanded time to plan their hanging day celebrations and to try and capture the rest of the ghouls too, or at least run them out of town first. They clearly didn't understand pack loyalty: once Aether, Mountain and Swiss finally realised Rain was directly threatened, pack instincts to protect would take over and they would fight to the death. Dew had to get back to the farm and tell the others; maybe now they would believe him.

The ruckus downstairs providing cover for his echoing footsteps, Dew turned and bolted back along the corridor. He debated squeezing back out the window he had entered through, but at the last moment he remembered he had meant to find Rain some food. And water: as a water ghoul he was especially susceptible to dehydration. Judging from the sounds echoing up the stairs, Dew expected all the building's occupants would be down there for a while longer. He started trying doors at random, hoping to find one with some supplies he could steal.

The first door Dew tried opened easily. Inside was a small library, the books mostly covered in a thick layer of dust as very few of the villagers were able to read. From a quick glance, it seemed most of the books pertained to the laws of the land, and historical records of the town. Dew spun back out of the room and tried the door opposite. It was locked, but that posed no issue to Dew as he effortlessly melted the latch.

This room contained haphazardly stacked ledgers of documents and a small writing desk, empty for now. The window was cracked open, letting the warm summer breeze in, but Dew could still smell the recent presence of a human. He scanned the room carefully, his eyes eventually landing on a small woven basket under the desk. Dew pounced for the basket, ripping the cloth covering off to reveal the bounty inside. Food: lots of it. Clearly clerical work was hungry business. Dew snatched up the fruit, meat pies and small wax-covered cheese, filling his pockets. He also grabbed the full waterskin and took off back out the door.

The noise from the main hall was beginning to quiet, the mass of intermingled voices separating into distinguishable conversations as the townsfolk dispersed. Dew made a break for it, before he was caught too. As he hurled himself from the office, back in the direction of the small bathroom, he heard one conversation becoming louder, two sets of footsteps echoing up the stone staircase at the end of the corridor. He slammed the door to the latrine shut not a moment too soon, and braced himself against it to hold it shut as he heard the men get closer and eventually pass by.

Dew let out a shaky breath and hoisted himself up to the window. He stuck his head out to check the courtyard was still empty, before wriggling back through it and letting himself fall to the ground. His ankle rolled as he landed, making Dew hiss out a stream of curses, but he knew he had to move fast to get out of here. Bending down to the small opening above Rain's jail cell, Dew saw him look up at the noise with more recognition in his eyes this time. Clearly the morsel of food had helped shake him from his shock. Dew fed the stolen lunch items through the window bars, tossing them in range of Rain as best as he could. Once again, the water ghoul's thick blue tail snaked around them to bring the food to him. Lastly, Dew lowered the waterskin down, desperately hoping it wouldn't burst as it landed. It didn't, and Dew was pleased to see Rain immediately open it and take a deep gulp.

“I'm going to get the others, Rain. We're gonna get you out of here!”  He didn't have the heart to tell him about the sentence the townsfolk had just decided on; it wasn't like the knowledge would make any difference anyway. Dew chose not to acknowledge the inherent selfishness of keeping Rain's proposed fate a secret from him, as dark eyes stared back up at him almost accusingly. The disconnect still present in them made it hard for Dew to tell if Rain was fully with him or not.

“Look after yourself Rainy, I'll be back as soon as possible.”

With a final encouraging smile, or at least that's what Dew was aiming for – it felt more like a grimace to him, he scurried back across the courtyard and over the wall, his ankle protesting the whole way. He was more cautious on his way back, and even more careful to stick to shadowy alleys and stay out of sight. As he finally reached the dirt road leading out of the village to their farm, he had to resist the urge to sprint headlong back to his pack. It was too exposed for comfort; he could be seen by anyone on the road for a mile in each direction, and the shooting pains lancing up his leg begged him to be careful until Aether could heal him.

An agonising half hour later, Dew limped up to the farm door. He had snapped a branch from one of the hedgerows he slunk behind to use as a makeshift crutch, but he could feel the swelling getting worse nonetheless.

“Dew! You're back,” Mountain exclaimed as he stumbled through the door, “I think you might be right – Rain still isn't back, and Swiss's visions are getting worse!”

Dew gritted his teeth against the urge to tell Mountain he told him so – that wouldn't help Rain right now. He didn't know what would.

“They've got Rain. We have a week to break him out before they kill him. Are you ready to listen to me now?” his voice broke into a snarl at the end as he tried to hold back his tears of helplessness tinged with guilt.

“Dewdrop?” Aether reappeared in the kitchen and paused as he saw Dew leaning against the doorframe in pain, and Mountain frozen in shock.

“Get Swiss.” growled Dew, “I'm not repeating myself again.”

Aether nodded quickly before vanishing back deeper into the house. He returned moments later with a drained-looking Swiss clutching his arm.

“Rain's in the town jail. They want to hang him next week.” Dew was struggling to keep his composure, every word shook.

Aether went as white as a ghost, staring at Dew like he had grown an extra head. He stumbled as Swiss collapsed against him with a howl.

"W-what happened?” Mountain asked.

“It's worse than I thought. He flooded Wilkins' field, it killed his daughter and two others. And then he went full gills-out ghoul on them all.”

“How? He can barely make a ripple in a puddle, let alone cause a deadly flood!” the earth ghoul looked to the others as though for confirmation that Dew must be exaggerating, but they were still staring at Dew in silent horror.

“I don't know! Something must've happened, and I think it broke his glamour – he's sat in a cell under the town hall with his tail and horns still out!”

“You spoke to him?” Swiss looked up with hopeful eyes, shining with unshed tears.

“I don't know if he heard me,” Dew sniffed back the beginnings of a sob, “he's completely out of it. I got him to eat a bit, but I don't know if he even recognised me. Something bad happened, something really bad, and the townsfolk are coming for us next!”

“We have to go and get him...” Aether finally murmured.

“That's what I've been trying to tell you!” frustrated, Dew almost yelled. “We don't have time to ask about the whys and hows, we're all in danger. We need to get Rain and get out, now!”

The slightly frantic nodding of his packmates told Dew that – finally – they realised the severity of the situation. Dew pushed off the doorframe to start gathering their belongings to leave and hissed in pain as he put weight through his bad ankle.

“You're hurt too?” Aether looked like his world was collapsing around his ears. Dew guessed it sort of was.

“Just my ankle,” he gave it a test wiggle, “I rolled it earlier, I think it's a sprain.”

Aether ushered him into a chair, picking his boot laces undone, before laying his cool hands onto the enflamed joint. Dew sighed at the relief, moaning as he felt the burning from the injury dissipate throughout his body and evaporate away until only a dull ache remained.

“Take it easy Dew,” he begged, still on his knees in front of Dewdrop, “I can't have you hurt too!”

Dew nodded noncommittally; he could take it easy when they were all safe. He looked around at his packmates and had a horrible realisation about the futility of their current situation. Aether and Mountain, the natural pack-leaders, sat shell-shocked and totally at odds with their normal calm and controlled personalities, Swiss was barely able to speak and still being rocked with aftershocks of his visions, and now Dew was slowed down by an injury. How on earth were they going to stage a rescue mission and escape unscathed? Someone was going to get hurt. If they all shared an element it would have been easier: they could have overwhelmed the town while remaining unaffected themselves. Sure, Dew could burn down the whole village, razing every building to the ground, but it would harm Rain in the process. They needed help.

Thinking on his feet, Dew knew who he could ask. He had sworn he'd never go back; his new life was a world away now, but he couldn't see any other solution where they didn't all end up dead.

“We have to get moving, before the village comes for us.” Dew declared, “Aeth, Mount, go and gather all the plants and herbs you need for basic potions, and some vegetables that will keep. Me and Swiss will sort stuff in here.”

The pair paused, not used to taking orders from Dew. They looked cautiously at Swiss, still zoning out at the table, until Dew made shooing motions outside with his hands, silently pleading with them to fall for his plan and leave.

“I'm gonna grab a few things from upstairs, you good to stay here for a moment?” Dew received only a small nod from Swiss in return, as he grabbed as his head and groaned from the onslaught of another wave of pain.

He took the stairs two at a time before bursting into his bedroom. He grabbed a sheet of paper from the desk and scrawled a quick note, addressing it to his packmates. Stuffing that into his pocket, Dew next set about prying up the loose floorboard on the far side of his bed. This was the only place he allowed himself to hold onto memories of his life before, and the small collection of items had been untouched since the day Dew put them there. He took the battered diary and the metal amulet from underneath it, and neatly placed them in the bottom of a knapsack. On top of them, he threw a change of clothes.

Dew cast one last look around the room he had called home, and closed the door. There was nothing left he couldn't replace; the most precious things in his life were his pack. As an afterthought, he ducked into Mountain's room and took a leatherbound notebook from his writing desk. Him and Aether had been collating an anthology of medicinal plants together over the last several years, it would be unforgivable to let that suffer whatever fate the townsfolk had planned for their house. It could also be a useful bargaining chip: where Dewdrop was headed, knowledge ruled far above gold.

Just before he went back downstairs, Dew saw Rain's door open at the end of the hallway. He'd barely been here a year, yet the whole room was so distinctly his. Shells and rocks he had collected dotted every available surface, the transparent ones thew rainbows across the walls from the sun that poured through the window. Dewdrop knew which one Rain would want saved; a pale stone with tiny fossils embedded in it, polished smooth by millennia of water flowing over it. He'd had it in his pocket when he'd arrived, his only material possession besides the clothes on his back. Dew didn't know what made it special, only that was. He tucked it carefully into the knapsack beside his own amulet.

He barrelled back down the stairs. Swiss was still at the table, and barely looked up when Dewdrop re-entered.

“Swiss? You in there?” the larger ghoul looked up through dark eyelashes. The mental pain from his visions swirled across his eyes, the normally deep amber colour muted and foggy.

“You need to remember your guitar, okay? Go and fetch it now.”

Like a puppet, Swiss lurched to his feet and in the direction of the living room. Dew snatched the last heel of Mountain's bread from that morning off the table, placing the brief letter he had written in its place. He quickly opened the pantry and threw as much dried meat and fruit as would fit into the top of his bag, maybe a day or two's supply if he was careful. Lastly, he filled a waterskin, shrugged on the knapsack, and headed out the door.

Dew could hear Mountain and Aether's voices from around the other side of the house by the herb garden. He walked quietly and quickly towards the gate, refusing to allow himself time to feel guilt for abandoning them like this; they could curse his name until the air turned blue, but if he could save them then that wouldn't matter. Once he was sure he was out of earshot and his footfalls wouldn't be heard, Dewdrop spared a single glance behind him at the place he had been proud to call home and broke into a run.

[hertwood]

anon i'm so sorry i just sliced my fucking foot open your ask is gonna have to wait i just sliced my foot open on a nail

[asyouwlsh]

thought I’d take a bath tonight, forgot I hurt my foot yesterday until I’d put the stupid thing in the water… soap. ow. 🥲

[sweetdreamspootypie]

🙃

I'm flying out tomorrow

Had a good night tonight

But

Vent / processing / just capturing some of the stuff I've been thinking about

It's so strange how different my worldview is because I'm a Covid nurse

Or maybe everyone else is insane

Who is to say

TW car accident, child injury

Managed to go see the last set of cousins tonight

My aunt was like

" oh yeah last few days I've been really sick

Had a really bad flu

Still coughing actually

But we don't believe in taking to our beds for just a flu lol"

And my cousin mentioned she doesn't know when the last time she took a RAT test was. Didn't even recognize the name. Said "oh yeah that's kind of outdated"

And NOBODY I've talked to has even been aware that there are still Covid booster vaccines happening and relevant?

They only ever had the initial course of 3 or 4 and then stopped? Didn't even know that further boosters are a thing at all?

and cousin told me that you don't take time off work for Covid here because it's not considered life threatening anymore

What the fuck is wrong with england

Why would you invite guests over if you actively have the flu?

Fuck man

Like it was actually a pretty good evening and it will probably be fine

But it's just so weird seeing the increasing divide in basic values

Like yeah I value hard work and discipline and etc etc and I want to get better at it

But how do these people value self care so little?

Idk I'm just hyper aware of it as well bc of my family's thing with chronic fatigue syndrome and how precarious wellbeing is

But also stuff like

Hard work is "being responsible" because idk doing your part at work on the project or whatever

But in my line of work

If I don't rest

If I don't eat or take my breaks or I haven't been sleeping well or burn out

Then I cannot provide the healthcare to others that is needed

I've got such vivid visceral memories of standing there as I'm realizing I need to hit the medical emergency big red button, at times when I'm over tired and not feeling my best self

Feeling my words and thoughts running like treacle and just being so aware of oh shit I'm not actually up for being responsible for this right now actually

And when I'm in that state and the adrenaline hits, it just makes it worse

I can feel my heart pounding in my ears and my dehydration headache and having to muster ok I have to be reassuring and communicative and make sure I'm dexterous enough to manage a complex situation

And if I can't manage it, people get hurt

And there's a very real risk that someone gets closer to death than they needed to, or would have if I had been on the ball and my best self

The other day, on Monday

I had a coffee at 12 noon

It was a really nice rich mocha from a chocolate specialist

I'm not accustomed to caffeine any more these days, so I was awake until 4am Monday night

On Tuesday night, despite being tired, I was also awake til 3am because of the disturbance to my sleep schedule it caused

On Wednesday, I was feeling gross from the sleep disturbance. I went to my room and tried to take an afternoon nap

At 4pm on Wednesday, there was a car accident outside of our house. A car hit a 3 year old child crossing the road with his mother.

My dad came to get me because I'm a nurse and that's my job.

When he came in I was in a groggy half asleep haze

I had my shoes on and was out the door but was still carrying a head of groggy haze

The kid was fine

Someone else was checking him out, asking all the right questions

And within a couple of minutes an ambulance arrived, and got to do a further assessment

It looked like the child had a bit of a bumped knee, probably from where he fell, but was otherwise just fine

Mum with him was being a champion at visibly keeping it together until tonight after the kids are put to bed, when she'll fall apart

I was able to be there to see that it was under control and looked on until the ambulance arrived

But I was so aware that I wouldn't able to clearly speak. Wouldn't be able to project calming competence with even just the simple fact of introducing myself as a health worker available if needed

Everything was fine

But if it hadn't been

I would not have been able to fulfil my role

Because I hadn't taken proper care of myself

I'm going to remember my guilt over one badly planned coffee I had on Monday, for years

Because my job is to be the one who knows how to make it alright when everything is wrong

Why the fuck can't other people do the simple things like isolate if sick

And not expose illness to people going back to the home of their 89 year old grandmother

I don't want to live to work

I want to live well

And wellness and happiness are important values and resources

And not contradictory with working hard to make progress on goals

People need to learn to rest

I didn't realize how bad it was

[fletcherwilbury]

@febuwhump Day 27: Left for Dead

Warning for Combat, canon-typical violence, weapons, blood, broken bones, injury, fainting, near major character death

[multi-lefaiye]

(real life injury mention under the cut--i'm okay but i need to whine about this a little)

i fucking slipped a bit while i was showering and bashed my foot against the fuckin faucet (?) and went "ow haha that hurt, guess i'll have a bruise later." and then i looked down and it was just gushing blood everywhere.

anyway how's y'all's evenings fucking going

[dandyshucks]

me telling Guz how I unknowingly walked on a bleeding foot all day and watched a show that fucked me up so bad that I was shaking for three whole hours afterwards

[hazzybat]

Guess who fucked up their feet saving their cat from the roof Xmas eve?

I was a bit tipsy so it didn't hurt when I got them but now like 4 days later my feet have decided to hurt and I have a very colourful bruise on one foot and my leg. Pic under the cut cause I know most people don't want to see feet but if you like seeing injury and a kinda pretty bruise it might interest you.

I am not a foot person I just find the actual bruise interesting cause I'm a fucked person it's different.

[greenteacology]

fun fact if you sunburn the tops of your feet and then immediately go hiking the next day your feet will be pain and it will take Forever to heal

[roseandbee]

As promised, an update/summary on the story this poll inspired.

If you picked "remove needle and go about your day," congrats!

You win:

A swollen possibly infected foot from not cleaning and covering the injury, and then not resting it whatsoever

A trip to the doctor anyway (in this case, ER) bc your foot is all red and swollen approximately 12 hrs later

A tetanus shot bc you're slightly overdue and no one fucks around with tetanus no matter how clean you think the needle was, sorry not sorry

An X-ray to check for injury and possible needle fragments even though you were smart and brought the needle for inspection

Antibiotic ointment that you already own

A prescription for oral antibiotics in case your foot gets worse (that you lucked out of needing)

A follow up with a doctor to make sure it's healing okay a week later when yes it still hurts but otherwise looks okay bc you refuse to rest it or cover it properly still

Many, many lectures from the medical person you know who you didn't contact until many hours after the injury who has ranted in this list and created this poll

Meanwhile...if you picked any other option, you actually win bc you understand basic first aid and/or know to contact someone who does, immediately. You might have still needed a tetanus shot unless you were up to date (within last five years is our local recommendation). I apologize. Don't fuck with tetanus.

(more reasoning and ranting plus what you totally should do under the cut)

The main reason why you have to be concerned about this at all is that that is a deep wound on a part of your body that is slower to heal to begin with and frequently in contact/close proximity to a lot of environmental debris and germs. It's nothing like stabbing your finger bc for one thing, hopefully you wash your hands frequently with antibiotic soap. And also, it's much easier to avoid touching/putting weight on a hand than a foot. Don't believe me? Think about diabetic amputations and get back to me on that.

For the record, you SHOULD:

Take a picture of the needle in your foot (to know what could have been injured)

Take the needle out bc it's thin enough to not cause a major bleed by removing it

Clean the area with rubbing alcohol, antibiotic wash, and/or brand new sterile saline (unmedicated saline spray in a squeeze bottle is a great item for your first aid kit)

If it's bleeding, let it bleed. Hell, encourage it (a bit) (get the bacteria that may have entered out)

If it's bleeding a good bit, you probably hit a small blood vessel. Put a clean, pressure bandage on it and go seek medical attention (you might need stronger antibiotics if bacteria got in your bloodstream)

If it's not bleeding/stops bleeding, cover with clean bandage. No antibiotic ointment (yet!) (let it drain!)

Inspect needle with a magnifying device for any damage; if it looks suspicious, go seek medical attention

Double check your vaccination records. If you're not up to date on your tetanus or unsure, contact your doctor about getting one. Pharmacies might be able to give you one and you can pick up any extra supplies you might need while you're there

If the needle seems fine and you don't need to go get a tetanus shot quickly (you probably don't but I don't know your life), go rest and elevate your bandaged foot as much as possible. Ice it if desired/your foot is already swollen

Check it again within a few hours of initial injury. If you're still self-treating, clean it again, check for any bleeding/discharge, check for new redness or swelling, and compare the temperature of your injured foot vs your leg on that side and your uninjured foot. If anything seems off/weird/bad/concerning, go seek medical attention

If you're still feeling fine about self treating, you will have mild to no redness, swelling, pain, and discharge, and no significant increase or decrease in skin warmth around the area. Go ahead with a new round of cleaning and put some antibiotic ointment and a bandaid on your injury and keep resting/elevating as much as possible

Keep up with that last part twice a day until you decide that either you're healed or it got worse and you had to seek medical attention.

✨Alternatively, just text your medical person for updates and questions and actually follow their advice ✨

And please, don't tell them you searched Google first unless you want them to yell at you and call you out on sm 🙄

Based on recent events in my life:

[man-made-object]

so i didn't get a migraine at all today :D

My foot, on the other hand,

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Chapter 7

Rain's fate hangs in the balance.

I'm away on a conference next week, so I had to fit in an update before I left! Hope you won't be too mad at where I left things... jk I've been planning the chapter split here for weeks!

Rating: M Content: violence, imprisonment, injury, imminent threat of death Words: 5041

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Hello tag alert-ees! @revengeghoulette @everybodyshusband @rainsbasspick

Read below, or on AO3!

Aether, Mountain and Swiss were settling down for their fourth night camping outside of town. As the days passed and no opportunities for rescuing Rain had presented themselves, the plans they discussed had become more and more desperate, and less and less likely to succeed. As well as Swiss bringing Rain food and herbs, they had all kept an ear to the ground while skirting through the streets for news regarding his fate, of any weaknesses in the humans’ plan that they could exploit.

One of the first things they had heard was talk of a stolen horse. From the stables out east of the village, one of the finest mares had gone missing, it's tethering chain melted clean through. They had heard no more on that front; it seemed like Dew had made a clean escape. All three ghouls had struggled not to feel bitter about this, Mountain especially.

There was also talk of hunting parties being sent after the remaining ghouls. Aether had shivered when recounting this rumour, none of them wanting to think about what their fate would have been if they had ignored Dew's advice. They didn't know the fate of their farm, nor did they really want to, but not one of them assumed it could still be standing. It was abundantly clear that they were not going to explain their way out of this situation by saying it was just a mistake, not with the village this riled up and baying for blood.

Quickly, the ghouls had come to realise that they would have to wait until Rain was brought out of his cell to make their escape. The walls of the jail were an impenetrable fortress, and the only entrance was crawling all over with guards. From Swiss’s nightly visits to Rain and the gossip picked up by Aether and Mountain, they had ascertained that the humans were absolutely terrified of him and what he was capable of. As such, it was almost guaranteed that the only time he would be let out of the jail would be when he was being brought to the gallows.

They would have a limited time in which to carry out a rescue, so their mission had to be meticulously planned. They had discussed all manner of approaches, both violent and non-violent, but each option ended up either too dangerous to themselves or too unlikely to succeed. The main issue was their mix of elemental magic: as ghouls traditionally lived in single element clans, there was no reason for them to be protected against each other’s abilities, and if anything it benefitted them to have defensive abilities.

Mountain had suggested causing a large earthquake. He argued that in the chaos, they could simply grab Rain and make a run for it. Aether had quickly shot that idea down, pointing out that it was just as likely to harm them as it was the townsfolk. Only a strong earth ghoul such as Mountain would walk out of that scenario unscathed. Any mistake or misjudgement would not only ruin their chances of escaping safely with Rain, but could also result in any or all of them being returned to the pit. They all secretly wondered though if that would be better than the alternative; their very existence being snuffed out at the hands of malicious humans.

Aether’s plan for Rain was less destructive, but equally unlikely to be successful. He had considered ripping the senses from the assembled crowd, blinding them and leaving him free to take Rain and run. The only issue, Mountain pointed out, was that it would have to be a solo mission. If Aether truly planned to plunge the entire population of the village into darkness then the power of it would be inescapable, even for Swiss with his small amount of quintessence magic and certainly for Mountain. The concentration required for such a large effect would leave little room for Aether to maintain an awareness of his surroundings, rendering him vulnerable and alone.

Swiss had tried his best to envision the outcome of each strategy they devised, but saw no future in any of them. Whether that was because they were all doomed to fail, or were just too unpredictable even for him, he wasn’t sure. The only time he saw even a flicker of life seemed to be when they planned to assemble in town, and no further. Aether had looked at him like he’d grown a second head when he suggested this. Swiss took it as a sign that things were so unpredictable right now, that by attempting to plan anything, their interference was sufficient to muddy the future beyond comprehension.

In quiet moments alone, Swiss wished he could have a strong ability like his packmates, instead of simply being the sounding board for Aether and Mountain’s hare-brained schemes. For now though, he would settle for simply being the go-between to Rain in the jail, the face the young ghoul got to see each day as he smiled down at his with words of encouragement and false optimism.

Visiting Rain every night, Swiss had watched him slowly recover his strength. Maybe his visions were really trying to tell him that they were all worrying for nothing, and Rain would be capable of freeing himself? He mentioned this to Mountain and Aether in an attempt to cheer them up. Both ghouls had been sceptical at first, but the cautious hope they clung to was all they had right now.

Mountain reflected on this turn their lives had taken. It was sad that things had come to this; he thought they had built a good life here. After so long alone, the relative comfort and ease of living with a pack had grown on him. With news of Rain’s continuing recovery, Mountain hoped they could have a chance at rebuilding everything, albeit far, far away from here. They certainly couldn’t stay here, but maybe they could stay together. If only we knew where Dewdrop was… Mountain though that if things turned out well, he might even consider forgiving him.

He was on first watch again tonight, keeping an eye out for any signs that they had been followed back to their camp. So far, his wards were working well: the closest anything had got was a lone rabbit, which they had eaten. He watched Swiss flop down onto his bedroll, the continued exhaustion in him so clear Mountain could feel it leeching into the soil around him.

Mountain shuffled closer, as if pulled by an invisible string. He’d felt an unavoidable need to be near the multi ghoul lately, even before all the events of the last few days. Mountain wasn’t stupid; he knew what it meant, but he’d spent so many years denying himself from even entertaining the thought of finding a mate that this new development felt especially strange and alien.

He observed Swiss’ face as he settled in to sleep, trying to be subtle but probably failing. It really was a nice face, Mountain thought. From the small crease between his eyebrows to the generous dusting of stubble on his chin, Mountain felt like he had only recently started to see Swiss the way he deserved to be seen. Others before him had clearly noticed what he only observed now, that was certain. Every giggling girl who hung off his every word, and indeed off his arm, in the tavern saw it. Hell, he thought even his packmates saw it; the way he’d seen Dew staring at him for a fraction of a second too long, how Rain would blush when Swiss complimented him. Mountain wondered if Swiss felt the recent tug between them too. He hoped so.

As he stared at the wrinkles of concern etched into Swiss’s face finally begin to smooth out with sleep, he saw his expression suddenly contort with pain.

“Swiss?” Mountain hissed in alarm. He got only a low whine in response.

“What’s wrong Snapdragon?” He looked frantically at the now wide awake quintessence ghoul next to Swiss, “Aether! Something’s wrong.”

“Talk to us Spark, what’s going on, what can you see?”

Swiss stared dead ahead, rocking side to side and occasionally flinching as the vision continued.

“It’s got to be Rain,” fretted Aether, “something’s going to happen to him.”

Mountain grasped both of Swiss’s hands, rubbing calming circles on the backs of them with his warm, calloused thumbs. He cooed quietly at the stricken ghoul, trying to calm him as he was rocked by the second-hand pain.

“Tonight,” Swiss finally rasped out, “soldiers, half a dozen of them, they’re going to break into Rain’s cell.”

Mountain and Aether exchanged horrified looks.

“They want revenge. For the girl killed in the flood.” With a final shudder, Swiss looked up at his packmates. “They want to be the ones to kill him, as painfully as possible.”

He took a deep, shaky breath and shuffled closer to his packmates as the vision played out.

“He’ll be hurt, but they won’t succeed.” Around him, Aether and Mountain’s shoulders lowered in relief, but the tension remained. Swiss tried to smile, “Our Rainy’s gonna shock them good, the second they lay a hand on him.”

~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Rain was sat on the cold and damp floor of his cell nibbling on the rind of some cheese from his nightly rations Swiss had brought earlier. The rest was safely stowed away on his person. Rain didn’t think he could be too careful with keeping his supplies hidden: he didn’t want to risk anyone discovering that his pack were sneaking into the town each night, putting them in danger. He was especially carefully with rationing out the herbs and elixirs from Aether, wanting to remain as strong as possible at all times in case things went south before Swiss could warn him.

Rain could feel his strength returning. The shock of his power bursting forth after a series of tumultuous emotions, followed by his capture and beating at the hands of the villagers, was gradually subsiding with rest and food. Now, he was able to feel the gentle thrum of his magic under his skin, connecting to it in a way he never had before.

Rain wasn’t quite sure what had happened in the field that morning. Never would he have imagined himself being capable of such deadly feats. He couldn’t explain why his powers had exploded out of him so suddenly, like a geyser, or why he had awoken to a strange buzzing feeling all over his body. It tickled like the anticipation of a thunderstorm, making the fine hairs on his arms stand up straight. Intrigued by the new sensation, he had prodded at it with his mind, feeling the pent-up energy twitching to be released. He had let it, and seen the blue sparks ripple across his skin.

In the days since, Rain had been practicing; he had never seen or heard of any sort of ability like this before, not from anyone in his clan or family. Was it an innate skill he had always been destined to have? Or something unlocked by being in grave danger? Either way, Rain wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hopefully it could go some way to help him protect himself, if he needed to.

In his initially fuzzy mental state, he had waved off all recollections of the destruction he caused as another symptom of his attack. Rain convinced himself that while the flood of memories of his earlier life were very real, and his subsequent unglamouring was likely terrifying to the farmers who had witnessed it, the carnage and death that followed must have just been another hallucination designed to torment him. That must be why he was in the jail – they had seen a monster cowering before them, confused and scared. As he came back to his senses however, it became painfully clear that all of his memories of the day were true, and were the real reason for his incarceration.

Rain had thought Dew was a hallucination too, for a while. If it hadn’t been for the very real food he’d brought him, and Swiss confirming his visit, he would probably still think so. Of all the ghouls in his pack, Dew was the one he would have least expected to risk coming looking for him, especially after how he had antagonised him that morning. A small voice in the back of his mind desperately wanted to blame Dew for what had happened out in the field, for setting him on edge before his day even began. However, Rain knew there was really no one to blame but himself; he was appalled at what he had done even if it was an accident. He could see why the village was out for blood, he would likely be doing the same if it were one of his packmates killed, but couldn’t they see it was an accident?

Probably not, he thought. They didn’t give him a chance to explain himself before knocking him out cold, and no one had stuck around for longer than it took to throw some crusts of dry bread and water his way since. Rain knew it really was just that, an accident, but that nagging voice in the back of his head insisted that he truly was as useless as Dew had insinuated, and if he hadn’t gotten so lost in his own head then none of this would have happened.

Rain sighed to himself, and looked around his cold, dark prison. It was hopeless, the others planning how to break him out. There was no escaping here, unless they could find a way to break through stone. Rain felt the twinge of guilt bubbling in his stomach again, knowing his packmates were risking their lives every night instead of running away while they had the chance.

Rain was shaken from his self-pitying slump by a commotion outside his cell. He could hear raised voices getting closer, angry shouting echoing down the corridor outside. He quickly finished his cheese, washing it down with the last of the water he had pulled from the earth into his metal bowl, and pulled his feet underneath him in a crouch.

There was the jangling of a key in the lock, and the door burst open, slamming against the stone wall. Half a dozen or so men barrelled through it, screaming foul threats of revenge.

“This is for Marina, you monster!” one howled, launching himself at Rain on the floor. Rain tried to talk, but after several days of silence his voice caught in his throat.

“Cat got your tongue?” another one sneered, as the first tried to pin Rain to the wall by his throat. As his back hit the stone with an agonising crack, Rain desperately tugged on the thread of his new magic. The man dropped him with a shout as he flew backwards, whole body spasming.

“The fuck?”

“Get him!”

More of the men descended on Rain, but soon leapt away in pain and shock when they touched him.

“He’s cursed!”  

The men still standing switched to kicking, the thick leather of their boots protecting them from further shocks. Rain curled into a ball to protect his head, and silently begged them to leave him alone. He hurt all over, from the brutal kicks as well as their loud shouts ringing in his ears.

All the noise soon attracted another guard, one who was seemingly tasked with keeping Rain alive for the next few days until his very public execution. He began yelling for the men to disperse and herding them out of the cell. Rain uncurled, his vision blurring but wanting to take a look at his saviour. As he did so, one of the men leaving aimed a final sharp kick into his stomach, and the world went black.

~~~~~~~

Back at the Abbey, Dewdrop, Copia and the ghoulettes spent the afternoon going over their plan. Cirrus was right: it definitely wasn’t Dew’s style. Even if it was all fake, the thought of confessing his supposed love for the ghoul who had, until the events of the last few days, irritated him immensely made him squirm.

“This plan is perfect.” Mist had gushed to him; he suspected she was a little biased. “It avoids anything crazy or dangerous, and it saves the whole village from being exterminated!”

Dew huffed at her,

“I still don’t see why they’re worth saving – they want to kill my friend over an accident!”

Mist smiled serenely at him. It was the first time Dew had ever referred to anyone as a friend. Dew realised it at the same time, and blushed. He wasn’t sure Rain would say the same thing about him, given how he’d treated him in the past.

“It’s not for their sake, trust me,” she added a conspiratorial smirk, “I’d love to watch them burn at your hands, I’m sure you’d do a fantastically thorough job!”

Dew nodded, chin up as if to confirm that yes: if he were allowed to burn the village down, there wouldn’t be a single chair left for him to sit on to survey his work.

“But that would attract rather too much attention, don’t you think? This way we can avoid suspicion for all of ghoul-kind, as well as your pack.”

Dew had to begrudgingly agree with her: if they wanted a chance at a quiet life after this, no matter where, then they had to keep a low profile.

Later that evening as Dew was packing his bag ready to head back to the village, transcribed copies of the law in hand, he found Mountain and Aether’s anthology of plants nestled in the bottom. He weighed the heavy manuscript in his hands; it really was a precious compendium, the culmination of his packmates’ work since before he’d even met them. Dew still felt a pang of guilt at how he had arrived back on the Abbey’s doorstep, demanding help with no mention of any sort of repayment for it. He was surprised Copia had offered his assistance so willingly without discussion of payment – such a debt was why he had brought the book, after all.

That was how things were usually done here, the Abbey may not trade in gold or precious goods, but they exchanges their services for something far more valuable: knowledge. The ghouls and clergy within the imposing walls would offer aid freely to those who agreed to stay and serve as Dew had done previously, albeit only for a brief period. For those who could or would not spare the time, they had an alternative. Taking inspiration from the fabled library of ancient Alexandria, they would request any literature of value be handed over. If the weary traveller would agree to stick around just a little bit longer, while a copy was made, the original would be returned to them, otherwise the tome would find a new home amidst the expansive Abbey library. Dew knew how it worked, he had even helped with a few transcriptions himself, and so he dithered, book in hand, until he was startled by a knock at the door.

“Come in?” Dew called to the door.

Copia opened the door, his robes billowing as he entered. Dew started at him in surprise; he’d never seen him or anyone else of the Clergy’s status in the ghoul wing before.

“Good evening, Dewdrop.” He smiled graciously, “I see you are preparing for your journey tomorrow, I have offered up prayers for a smooth conclusion for you and your pack. Saving your packmate like this is very noble.”

“Thank you Papa,” Dew bowed his head, “that is more than I could’ve asked for.” The book, still in his hands, felt heavy with purpose. Before he could change his mind, he thrust in in Copia’s direction.

“Payment.” He said simply, as Copia looked at him in confusion, instinctually taking the book shoved under his nose. “For your help.”

“Nonsense, my dear ghoul,” Copia’s face softened, “you were one of us, even if only for a brief time, so you will always have a place here.”

Dew shuffled his feet awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to such a sincere sentiment. Luckily he didn’t have to: curiosity getting the better of him, Copia had begun absently flicking through the book. Dew watched with some amusement at how easily the man could be distracted by the mere promise of new knowledge.

“This book is... This is incredible, Dewdrop. Where did you get it?”

Dew beamed with pride on his packmates’ behalf.

“Two of my pack have been working on it for years, an earth and a quintessence ghoul.”

“Fantastic…” Copia mused, before finally looking back up at Dew. “If you are serious, I would be delighted to hold onto this for safekeeping until you can next return to us? I know the earth ghouls here would be honoured to transcribe its contents.”

Dew shrugged slightly,

“It’ll be safer here than with me.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Copia murmured, once again leafing through the detailed illustrations, “should you and your pack come and stay, you have my word that we would return it immediately. It would be wonderful to meet the ghouls who wrote it too, sharing in their knowledge and power would be the real gift here.”

Dew made a non-committal noise. He had no idea if his pack would even want to talk to him again after running away, let alone be convinced to traipse all the way back here. Copia reached out with his spare, leather-clad hand to grasp one of Dew’s.

“Think about it, but for now I’ll let you finish packing, and get some sleep. Good luck, Dewdrop. Safe travels.”

~~~~~~~

The day was finally here. The day when they would either get Rain back, or lose him forever. None of the ghouls had slept well. Rain had been looking worse and worse over the last few days: the mirth Swiss had seen was gone from his eyes, now replaced with a dull horror. They’d all soon learned of the attack on Rain, how the band of thugs had broken in with the intention of carrying out their own justice. Less talked about was how Rain had responded. The rumours of his shocking defensive skill were quieter, only talked about by scared guards tasked with keeping him weak but alive.

Clearly they were not trying very hard with the second part. Every time Swiss had visited he looked skinnier; they had obviously given up on trying to feed him. Whether this was due to fear or malice was anyone’s guess. He was now barely responding when Swiss tried to speak to him, instead staring straight ahead at the wall, frozen in fear. The black eye from his original capture had faded to an ugly yellow, but in its place were more bruises, shining angry and purple. Swiss had to assume he was eating the food he brought each night as it had always disappeared by the next day, although he never saw Rain make any move to do so with his own eyes.

Mountain, Aether and Swiss's camp was packed and stowed closer to town, ready for a speedy getaway. Swiss's visions of the day hadn't changed, despite all that had happened with Rain, leaving everyone on-edge and uneasy. He still saw no success in any of their plans, only different variations on their own demise. Leaving Rain to his own devices and simply hovering in the crowd was still the only option that produced even a spark of optimism for the future. So, the ghouls were planning for every eventuality, desperately hoping that when the time was right they would see their opportunity for a rescue. Each of them was prepared to sacrifice everything, should the need arise. It was an unspoken agreement that going full scorched-earth on the village, revealing their cover and undoubtedly cursing themselves back to the pit separated but alive, was a better option than the cold abyss of death. If it came to it, that could be their only choice: a human with murderous intent could easily kill them, but getting caught in an accident? Maybe the pit wouldn’t be as bad as they had heard.

The three ghouls headed into town, their faces disguised by large hoods. Closer to the village gates they found crowds to blend into, locals and visitors alike all pouring in to witness the execution of a supposed demon. As they had hoped, all of the village gates were unguarded: it seemed the entire populous was distracted by the planned spectacle. They filed down the main street towards the central square, mercifully still undetected. The plaza bordered the front entrance to the town hall and the walled inner courtyard with the cells where Rain had been kept. A wooden gallows had been erected specially for the occasion, and a large crowd was gathering in front of it. Swiss paused, before gesturing to a spot close to the gallows and in line with the main gate.

The space around them began to fill with spectators for the macabre show, as the sun crept higher in the sky. When it was almost at its noontide peak a commotion broke out by the entrance to the jail, and a ripple soon spread through the assembled crowd. Something was happening. Mountain, Swiss and Aether shared a nervous glance, and then they spotted him: Rain. It was the first time Mountain and Aether had seen him since he left the farm that sunny morning a week ago. They both shot horrified looks at Swiss, as though to confirm that what they were seeing was real. Swiss nodded grimly.

Rain looked awful. Swiss had watched his steep decline over the last few days from meters away and behind iron bars, but nothing could have prepared him for how completely drained and haggard their young packmate looked while being forced to stagger past the leering crowds. In the midday sunshine it was suddenly all the more apparent how much he was hurting: the bruises that had partially blended into his skin in the dim light of the jail cell now stood out like angry ink splashes up and down his body. Each step he took was laboured, like the very act of contracting his muscles to move his legs was putting him through agony. Some of his wounds looked like they were trying their best to heal, but were layered below more recent injuries.

The guards dragging him toward the gallows were wearing thick, leather gloves and heavy tunics that covered their entire bodies. Swiss was grimly pleased that Rain had been exercising his new talent, although it was clearly not fool proof, and the fact he had needed to defend himself in the first place made him shudder. He almost lost his balance as he was forced up the few wooden steps to the platform of the gallows, stumbling hard. Rain was shaking like a leaf as the town officials filed onto their own podium and prepared to address the crowd.

This was the ghouls’ chance. Until this moment there had been too many eyes roaming around, too many people who could stop them. Now, all eyes were fixed on either the shivering water ghoul, or the town Judge reading his crimes aloud. Mountain and Aether looked to Swiss, silently asking if they should continue waiting or move forward with plan B. Swiss gave a small nod, and they readied themselves to attack.

After much discussion, they had decided that smaller, more targeted versions of their original plans would be most likely to succeed, or at least not backfire completely. Mountain would sow the seeds of distraction by causing a small earthquake. It would not be the ground-splitting calamity that he alone would have created, rending the earth in two in a roar of total destruction, but it would divert the attention of the crowds enough for Aether and Swiss to pounce.

With three packmates also needing to escape alongside him, Aether too had scaled back his earlier plans. Instead of blinding everyone present, leaving them to flounder in an endless sea of black nothingness, he would instead go straight for the guards; lunging forward to incapacitate only those with the ability to hurt or hinder Swiss, who would be following close behind him in order to grab Rain.

Water ghoul in hand, the four of them would then flee the chaotic scene, out the unguarded main gate and back to the relative safety of the trees. There, they would collect their meagre belongings and continue their escape into the wilderness. They would travel for as long as it would take for the landscape and language around them to become foreign; far enough that no word of the events of the last week could follow them. That was, of course, if everything went to plan. They all knew it was a long shot, and the slightest mistake could result in their doom.

“…for your crimes, I hereby sentence you to death!” the Judge’s voice commanded, echoing across the stone square. The silence of the crowd hung thick in the air, the onlookers listening with rapt attention. Aether looked towards Mountain as the ground beneath their feet began to vibrate rhythmically. Mountain looked back in confusion, his eyebrows pulling together as if to say that’s not me.

Just as they were about to start their plan properly, the thudding through the ground became louder and more distinct, morphing into the sound of horseshoes striking the ground. A wave of mutterings spread through the assembled masses as they parted for the reckless horseman. The ghouls decided as one to ignore it, and utilise the distraction for their own gain. Mountain was just beginning to pull at the bounds of the earth, causing it to grate against itself and shake the very foundations of the buildings around them when a familiar voice rang out across the square.

“Wait!”

Three sets of ghoulish eyes whipped around to stare at the new arrival. Aether’s breath was forced out of his chest in a huff of relief,

“Dewdrop.”

[daemonoferror]

At the point where if I get injured ONE MORE TIME TODAY- I'm simply going to pass out and hope someone else nurses my wounds before I regain consciousness.

[fluffyfairyzz]

sad moth hours

[fletcherwilbury]

@febuwhump Day 25: Alt Prompt 10: Last Man Standing

Warning for Canon-typical violence, weapons, physical violence, injury, illness, broken bones, pneumonia