#maybe i can find a free stair climber instead

[cuntwrap--supreme]

We're officially out of the holiday season and have now shifted into the The Gym Is Practically Unusable For The Next Two Months season

[amusedyan]

Labyrinthian

This fucking thing has been the source of my fucking writer’s block for months and I FINALLY GOT THIS THING FINISHED!

Featuring cryptic Trickster Eldritch Labyrinth god Dazai

The labyrinth was unending, unyielding. The walls themselves so tall that you had to crane your neck to see the sky- it had gone dark, and the stars? Forget it. You would be so lucky to see stars in this hell.

When the king had called for a sacrifice, you had been one of the many offered. Dressed in white for the offering, and forcefully purified, you had been let loose in the labyrinth, fodder for the creature inside. Because of your sacrifice, the headman had said, you thought venomously, the kingdom would be safe, the monster sated for one more year.

And what of the next year?

“Short sighted bastards,” you spat on the ground and marched forward. Marched to your death, maybe. Probably even. But you had to keep moving. If you stopped, if you gave in, then fear and hopelessness would overcome you.

You didn’t want to die. But if you had a choice, then you’d rather die on your feet than in a crouch, crying in despair.

Already it was at your heels, following you. As you alternately hurried, walked, marched or sprinted through the stone paths you would find horrible mementos of the past sacrifices- bones, dried and flaking blood, severed limbs or shredded clothes, similar to what you wore. You prayed over each other them- not to the gods who had trapped that Thing here, but to the souls of your predecessors. May they be at rest and free from pain, fear, and the machinations of the living and immortal.

The Thing in the labyrinth was a god. Was, but now he was an immortal thing with the human hunger, cast down by the pantheon and sealed here.

Your stomach growled uncomfortably.

There wasn’t much to be done about that, though- you had been given limited rations, and you wanted to make them last, unappetizing as they were.

So on you went- with no direction and no way to mark where you’d been.

But time dragged on, and eventually your anger and your fear fled, and you had nothing but hunger, thirst, and exhaustion waiting for you and slowing you down.

It wasn’t fair, you thought. The despair had caught up with you, and you could feel your eyes burning. “I’ll save my tears,” you muttered, rounding a corner. By now you were leaning on a wall. If the monster found you, you would die for sure.

But instead of more endless stone walls, you saw trees, and water. For an absurd moment, you thought that you had found the way out. But as you stepped into the clearing, you saw more walls around it, and you understood.

This was a garden.

But it was a garden, and that meant water and hopefully food, so that was something.

You drank from the water until you threw up, and then drank some more. The water was cold and clear, and you had never tasted something so sweet in your life. You dipped your feet in to calm the ache next and closed your eyes. You couldn’t relax, but you could rest here.

It felt safe, like the air itself had taken a moment to let itself go.

“How could something so beautiful exist in such an ugly place?” You wondered out loud.

When your feet grew numb, you began to look for food. And, luckily, you didn’t have to look long.

“Fruit trees,” you breathed in wonder. All of them were fruit trees.

You’d never been much of a tree climber as a kid, but hunger bred desperation, and like a monkey you were scrabbling up and up to the first stable branch.

You ate 3 apples and dropped some more to the ground before climbing down, more carefully than you had climbed up. Your belly full and your thirst quenched, you finally succumbed and fell asleep beneath the tree. And no matter your intentions, it was a deep sleep, dreamless and dark.

-x-

You woke, completely relaxed under a late morning sky.

The sky?

And more than that- there was a smell

The smell of apples cooking.

When you raised your head you saw a young man wearing the white garb of the sacrificed. He was bandaged, but he still smiled when he caught your eye.

“You’re up.” He waved, and you found yourself wandering over. “Sorry, I just saw the garden and I was so hungry. Did I scare you?”

“No.” And it was the truth. “I didn’t see you with the other sacrifices.”

“There are several gates.” He shrugged. “One in each of the cardinal directions. I came in the West.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Your expression hardened. “If all the food comes in the same gate then the meal is all at once and the sacrifices would have to be more than once a year.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Here, I roasted a few for you, too.” He handed you a spit on which two apples were speared.

“Thank you,” you took them gratefully, and introduced yourself.

His name was Dazai, he told you. He was from a port kingdom. Over breakfast he described the sea and the ships, and you listened eagerly. Before the sacrifice, you’d never been anywhere but your home village and the market.

“Have you seen anyone besides me?” You asked, despite yourself. It felt like a cloud had passed over you both, and you shivered involuntarily.

Dazai looked down at the fire and sighed. “No one alive,” he said very quietly.

“I…was afraid of that.” You admitted, and you both went quiet. You ate your apples while they were still warm.

After awhile, Dazai cleared his throat and you looked t him again.

“Would you like to run with me?” He invited.

The idea…wasn’t a horrible one, in all honesty. In the very least, you thought darkly, you could trip him up and use him as a distraction if you were found by the monster. But more than that, you wanted company.

The two of you filled your respective waterskins and packed away as many apples as you could carry. Dazai took some of the charcoal from the dead fire. “We can mark our way with it.” He explained. It was a risk, but a calculated one; if you knew which direction you had come from then the monster surely could as well.

You and Dazai began to walk and you felt much more relaxed with someone at your side. It was as like the labyrinth itself was cleansed. It wasn’t as scary with someone else, you decided.

For lack of anything better to do, you compared notes on the creature in the labyrinth.

“My home says that the gods cast him down for his cruelty,” you recounted. “They sealed him here- once you’re in, you can’t escape.” You swallowed nervously. “But that part can’t be true. There has to be another way out.”

“He wasn’t a god,” Dazai scoffed as you backtracked, marking on the wall that the passage was a dead end. “He came Before the pantheon.”

You frowned. “There was a before?”

“Honestly,” he sounded s disappointed. “What are they teaching people nowadays. Yes, there was a before. The Old Ones were first, and when the New rose, there was war. The Labyrinth God weighed his options and helped overthrow his people.”

“Why would he betray the Old Ones?” You wondered. “Wouldn’t he have loyalty for his people?”

“It wasn’t about loyalty.” Like he was explaining things to a child, Dazai broke it down. “You have to look at the bigger picture- there was a war and it had to end. The Labyrinth God looked at the outcomes and made a sacrifice for the lesser damage.”

“And it made him cruel?”

“No. It made him a liability. They cast him out, stripped him of his divinity and created the labyrinth. And here we are.” He squinted up at the sky. “Well, at least we don’t have to deal with straight sunlight,” he grumbled.

But something made you suspicious. “How do you know so much about it? I thought you came from a port town?”

“I do. But my family were scholars.” He shrugged.

“Oh. And they just…surrendered you?”

“Well, it was only me. And it wasn’t like they liked me much to begin with.” He chuckled, and you felt a momentary stab of both guilt and pity. You had people on the outside to get back to, and Dazai just…didn’t want to die here.

Well, maybe you could bring him back with you.

But you didn’t voice that idea, you weren’t stupid. A. you didn’t want to offend him, and B. You didn’t really trust him, not just yet.

So on and on you walked. More than once you hit dead ends and had to go back, or somehow circled back around. Several times you swore you heard the growling of the god in question. Those times bot you and Dazai froze and listened, pressed against the wall, trying to judge just how far away it was. The final time, the ground shook as it passed by the next passage over, and you could feel a scream welling up in your throat.

But it passed, and you both waited and waited for ages before going on, slowly and silently, all talk gone.

That night there was another garden, this one more lovely than the night before, with animals and birds. The lake was a little river, and again you both refreshed and rested yourselves. There were pear trees this time, and pomegranates. All the fruit was delicious raw, but there was something satisfying about cooking them and eating them warm.

“Gosh the stars are pretty,” you observed, leaning back. Across the fire, Dazai looked up and softened at the sight of them.

“Yeah. They are.”

You both slept, huddled together for warmth as the fire died.

-x-

And on the third day, the environment of the labyrinth changed. The stones themselves were different, and the walls…

“It’s almost welcoming,” you breathed in wonder.

“It is, isn’t it?” Dazai reached out and touched the stone experimentally.

Remarlably, you found yourself led to some stairs. Stairs, of all things. Up and up you both walked. Why hadn’t you seen any sign of this in the labyrinth?

At the top of the staircase, you saw a palace.

You could smell food now, and your stomach growled for food that wasn’t just roasted fruit.

“Hungry?” Dazai elbowed you playfully.

“A little,” you nudged him back.

There was something strange about all this, you realized, but you were curious. “Let’s investigate.” Dazai declared, leading the way.

The palace was lit and clean, incense scented the air. It was lived in, clearly.

“Is this the monster’s home?” It was so…civilized. What sort of prison was this? One filled with art and delicate vases and décor.

You both followed the smell of food through gardens and rooms and halls, finally finding tables already laid.

“It’s like a celebration.”

Why was your heart pounding?

There was a terrible growl and you froze.

It was here.

“Relax,” Dazai laughed, picking up a goblet. “There’s nothing to fear.”

“Are you insane?” You snapped, grabbing his sleeve. “It’s here- it’ll eat us Dazai, we have to move!” This was a horrible idea, what had possessed you to come inside like this?

The palace shook under Its footsteps, you were running out of time.

He’d gone insane, clearly, but could you really just abandon him to his fate here?

Yes.

Your survival…

You ran in the other direction, and Dazai’s wild laughter was as loud as the growling, snarling, howling beast that you were trying to flee.

Deeper into It’s lair you ran, your lungs on fire. You didn’t think about Dazai, because it didn’t matter. One foot in front of the other, you ignored everything. There had to be a way out of the palace, a way out.

You burst into a garden in full bloom, but no sooner had you registered that it was grass beneath your feet then you lost your footing, and you fell. And it was hard. Dazed, you lay there, shaking. It was behind you- you could smell the crackle of ozone, hear the footsteps.

But then what you heard was clapping.

“You did so well,” Dazai singsonged, patting you on the shoulder. “I had so much fun. But the game is over, darling, and I think that I want to claim my prize.”

You looked up at him and tried to process just what the hell he was talking about over the racing of your heart.

“Your…prize?”

His kiss was not gentle. It was hungry, eager and impatient.

“You ran and I gave chase. It’s the first time a sacrifice has become more than a meal.”

“What…what am I then?”

“Mine. And there will never be another.”

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

A Ghost Story

It’s finished! I would be interested to hear what you think about it, anon who made the prompt :)

Here’s a Link to AO3.

It was a stupid bet Nyx had let himself be goaded into. Nyx was going to do it anyway and Libertus was going to make sure he didn't kill himself in the process. They were supposed to find a ghost. Well, something they did find. It wasn't a ghost, though. 

Part of the Born Into the Wilds verse. Can be read as a stand-alone. 

Obligatory list of words for the Galahdian language I keep inventing for some unholy reason:

unsanguikar = insult; lit.: unblooded person, meaning inexperienced and soft lormunos akastral = corrupted demon mahir = mother; woman who birthed me; affectionate form gisdrauht = storyteller Galahkar = person of Galahd gekkan = great bear like creature with antlers, native to Galahd fohrnfilkar = polite form of address between two Galahkari that don't know each other Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas = Eos' light be on you; a formal greeting

The wind howled along the canyon, it tugged at hair and clothes, and produced a moaning sound that spread goosebumps and a feeling of dread over all the teenagers assembled at the edge. Most of them shifted nervously from one foot to the other as they stared at the wooden pole wrapped in colourful ropes, that marked the beginning of the trail. Once upon a time those ropes would have meant something, but after decades of negligence the meanings had become illegible, the colour nearly bleached out all the way.

Philotes Altius, the oldest of the group at the age of 17, was flanked by two of her usual goons and sent a nasty grin towards Nyx and Libertus. Both of them stared back with equally determined gazes.

It was a stupid bet Nyx had let himself be goaded into.

“To prove that unsanguikar really deserves the venerated name of Ulric,” Philotes had said with an innocent expression on her face and a nasty look in her eyes.

Of course Nyx had had to agree.

And of course Libertus was right beside him. Even as the slightly older boy had tried to keep Nyx from actually doing it up until they had shown up at the edge of the canyon.

Nyx, with the single minded determination of a stubborn teenager, hadn't listened at all. In the 14 year old's mind this had to be done to defend the integrity of the Ulric name. May his ancestors help him, he would do this and laugh into Philotes' stupid face afterwards.

Whatever the task actually was.

He had his suspicions, thought, after she had told him to meet her at the beginning of the Old Apothecary's Trail.

“You actually came,” crowed Philotes and somehow managed to sound disturbingly pleased and utterly disappointed at the same time. “It would have been fun to tell the others you ran away like a scared little spiracorn foal. No matter. I trust you heard the recent stories about this trail?”

Nyx narrowed his eyes at the condescending tone. “What does a ghost story have to do with this?” he demanded.

Philotes laughed. It wasn't a very nice laugh. In Nyx' opinion it sounded kind of like the call of a garula calf. Not that he would actually tell her that. Philotes wasn't only older than him, but also a better fighter. For now.

“Just about everything, Ulric,” she goaded and threw her hair back, bringing attention to her collection of meticulously done braids and beads. “You are to climb down the Old Apothecary's Trail and bring me evidence of the ghost who has made their nest down there. If I were you, I would be very careful while you do so. Rumour has it, it's actually a lormunos akastral.”

“You're lying,” growled Libertus.

His voice had just started to fond it's deeper octaves and he could make it quite menacing, if he so desired. This time, however, the effect was diminished by the chalky whiteness of his face.

Philotes cast both of them another nasty smile. “Then. Prove. It.”

Nyx practically growled as he dragged Libertus over towards the wooden pole.

This close to the edge the wind was even stronger, like cold fingers dragging across skin trying to pull the unwary down over the edge. Nyx swallowed, suddenly growing very nervous at the idea of climbing down a path that hadn't been used in near a century because the Patientia had found a faster and safer one down the canyon, where apparently some very rare herbs grew. Or something. Nyx wasn't that interested in medicine.

His sweaty hands found the thick rope used to guide people safely down and tugged at it. He grimaced at the ominous creaking with which the wooden pole protested. Using the ancient rope was too dangerous. Which left practically free climbing their way down. Nyx didn't really have a problem with that per se. He was good at climbing. His mahir and sister would probably have to say a thing or two about this, though. But he wasn't really worried about that either.

What he worried about was Libertus. His hunting-brother wasn't exactly a climber to put it mildly.

Worried, he dared to cast a glance at his hunting-brother out of the corner of his eyes. Libertus had gone very pale, but his eyes held a fiery determination to see this through and Nyx knew that any argument to convince him otherwise would be wasted breath.

“What are you waiting for? Do you need someone to hold your hand?”

The young Ulric hated Philotes Altius with a passion. She was quite the talented huntress and a powerful and cunning fighter. It made her able to get away with quite a few things others wouldn't and she knew it. She was loud and brash, especially when her goons were with her, and often liked to establish her dominance with kicking around those younger than her.

There was one thing, however. One weakness Nyx hadn't let himself dare to exploit until now, because he may be reckless and he may not have what amounted to normal self-preservation, but he wasn't stupid and he knew his own limits. Well, he knew Libertus would disagree on that one.

The thing was, Philotes Altius was absolute sahagin shit at her Clan's traditional speciality of being doctors and healers. And she hated it. It was the one thing she couldn't hold over the other teenagers heads to inflate her own ego further. The last time someone had dared to bring it up she had beaten the poor girl black and blue in a near senseless rage.

Nyx didn't give her the satisfaction of turning around. Instead he exchanged one last look with Libertus, to check if the other boy really wanted to do this.

Then he carefully slid over the edge of the canyon and onto a steep and worn down flight of stairs. They were slippery and narrow. Slowly he inched his way further down to give Libertus enough space to follow him, suddenly glad for the strong winds that pressed him against the rough stone at his back. He didn't dare to reach for the thick rope again in fear it would snap and cause him to fall to his death.

Small pebbles clattered down in front of him as he followed the stairs, Libertus a calming presence at his back. Their sound was swallowed by he moaning winds that ripped each breath from his mouth with greedy fingers.

The steps didn't go far before Nyx had to carefully turn around to face the rocky wall, his heart in his throat and adrenaline pumping through his veins, making the palms of his hands sweaty and slippery. With great care he searched for handholds since the ledge beneath his feet was barely wide enough to walk on and full of fallen rocks and debris. He could very easily trip and fall.

Within minutes his tunic was soaked through with sweat, leaching away his warmth as the wind battered at his back.

A shadow enveloped him, cooling the air around him even more. He shivered. When he had gathered his nerves enough to look up his saw the edge maybe ten metres above his head and thick, heavy clouds covering the formerly clear sky.

Something like dread pooled in his gut, but Nyx couldn't quite tell why. Not far above him Libertus said something, clearly yelling against the noise the wind made. Nyx couldn't understand a word anyway.

So he continued to climb his way down.

If he were honest, Nyx didn't know if he believed the story of a lormunos akastral having its nest here. Demons were rare in Galahd, and even rarer were corrupted ones. They were said to be souls of children that had followed a white crow and had died for it, cursed to never find their way beyond the gate where their ancestors dwelt. It was doubly worse if the child hadn't had a clan name. The gisdrauhti said those souls would grow twisted with time, if they weren't pacified, cleansed and guided beyond the gate. That they would peel the skin of their victims off, while they were still alive, and try to masquerade as them. It was a story told to children to keep them from going outside when they shouldn't. And now there was a story of a lormunos akastral to keep people from climbing down this obviously unsafe trail.

Light was leached further out of the late autumn afternoon as more and more clouds pressed in, turning the sky into a dark grey, roiling mass that every Galahkar dreaded.

The first autumn storm of the season was near.

Nyx fought the growing panic down. He knew he couldn't climb back up. Libertus was a slow climber and would surely slip and fall, should he try to hurry. Also, they were nearly halfway down the canyon at this point. Even if Nyx had been alone, he wouldn't have made it back up in time to take cover from the storm and keep out the voice riding the waves and the winds that came with it. The only way to survive this now was to climb further down and find a place they could hole up in.

From one moment to the other he stopped in the middle of crouching down on a small plateau barely big enough for two fully grown men to sit on. Had there been movement? A shadow to his left that wasn't his own? Cold wind, smelling strongly of salt and dust, blew his mostly lose hair into his eyes and obscured his vision. He whipped it out of his face with an angry motion. The shadow was gone. Had he imagined it?

With a tired grunt Libertus plopped onto the ground next to him and groaned. Strands of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and his knuckles were as scraped and bloody as Nyx' own.

“The next time you accept a shit bet like this, please make sure it's nowhere near the autumn storm season,” groaned Libertus with a tired sort of resignation that made him sound decades older than he actually was.

Nyx let his eyes wander over the stone wall in search for a hideout they could use with increasing desperation. He couldn't find a single one and the ground was still far below them.

“Well,” he said, trying to keep the panic from his voice, “at last it hasn't started to rain yet.”

And as if all the spirits of Galahd had conspired against him, thunder rumbled deafening through the air and a cold drop of rain hit his nose.

“Way to jinx it, Nyx. If we survive this mess, remind me to slowly murder you,” grumbled Libertus, his own voice pressed in fear.

Shit.

They were going to die here. Because he hadn't been able to let go of his stupid pride. Why had he even listened to someone like Philotes? The Altius Clan was no ally of the Ulric Clan. He wanted so badly to turn back time to this morning and hit himself over the head.

A sudden warmth pressed into his right side as more drops started to fall in increasing speed and the wind gained a whispery quality to it that made his teeth ache. It was Libertus, a grim but accepting look in his eyes, even as his body trembled in a physical show of Nyx' own desperation.

It was so unfair, he wanted to scream.

Thunder rolled and a flash of lighting made Libertus jump in sudden agitation.

“A face!” he cried, a shrill quality to his voice. “I saw a face! Right there!”

Nyx followed his stretched out hand pointing to his left. He squinted through the rain and the growing darkness and couldn't see anything. He opened his mouth to tell his hunting-brother just that, when lightning flashed again and he saw it.

A hunched over silhouette at the edge of the plateau they sat on. Nyx froze.

Was this the lormunos akastral? Had that story been right all along?

The silhouette moved, slowly, hesitantly inching closer to them. Now Nyx could see that most of its hunched over bulk came from a raggedy cloak made nearly entirely out of fur. A hood was drawn deep into its face. He could see its mouth moving, but wasn't able to hear anything over the clamour of the storm.

It waved and pointed to its side, down and to the left. Neither Nyx nor Libertus moved and with an impatient tilt to its head it repeated the motion.

Nyx dared to glance at Libertus. His hunting-brother sat frozen in place, pressed into the stone behind him as if he wanted it to swallow him. Nyx shifted his weight, and as if Libertus' head was screwed onto his neck he turned to look at him.

He looked like he had seen a ghost. Which... well.

A pebble hit him against a leg and drew his attention back towards the silhouette. It motioned again, the gesture pointed and sharp and insistent.

The he heard it. Or he thought he did. A moaning cry on the wind and at once his goosebumps became twice as bad. At once he was on his feet and took a step towards the silhouette. Better to try his luck with the potential demon than with the voice-who-was-many-and-one. Then at least his own stupidity would kill him instead of something he had no influence over whatsoever.

Next to him Libertus twitched violently. But he followed, like the unendingly loyal companion he was.

The silhouette backed away as they came closer and started to climb. It nearly vanished into the falling rain and the shadows. Pale and thin hands and forearms nearly seemed to glow and were the only sign that it was still there.

They followed as best as they could. Which wasn't easy. More than once Nyx nearly slipped on the wet rock and fell. It must be so much worse for Libertus. Luckily it wasn't too long until they arrived at the entrance of a surprisingly deep cave.

For a heart stopping moment Nyx had felt the panic clawing at his insides when the silhouette had suddenly vanished, only for a thin arm to reappear from a gap in the stone, Nyx would have never thought would be big enough for them to climb into.

Inside it was a bit warmer and blessedly dry. Libertus and himself were soaked down to their bones at this point.

It was dark, but from further in they could see the telltale flickering of a burning fire. Cautiously they looked at each other and made their way further in.

The silhouette – person – thing was crouched low by the fire, still wrapped in the soaking wet cloak that turned out to be made out of gekkan fur. Small, bony hands threw another log into the clumsily improvised hearth. It became increasingly clear to Nyx that this in front of him wasn't a lormunos akastral. There were no twisted limbs, no naked, bleeding flesh and no smell of old and rancid blood. Only the stink of musty wet fur, cooked food and sweaty human.

He stepped closer to the fire, its warmth a blessed caress on his freezing skin, from where he had stopped. Not quite sure what to do, he simply decided to introduce himself.

“Thank you for saving us, fohrnfilkar. My name is Nyx of Clan Ulric and with me is my brother-in-hunting Libertus of Clan Ostium. Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas.“

All movement within the gekkan fur cloak stills for a heartbeat. An angry growl reverberated within the cave and suddenly Nyx lay on the ground, his face full of a furious young girl. The hood had fallen away when she had tackled him, bringing to light long unkempt brown hair, a thin and pale face caked with dirt and eyes that seemed to glow with an inner fire. She couldn't have been older than ten or eleven.

“You fucking idiots!” she practically screamed as Libertus grabbed her by the cloak and dragged her off him. “Who would be so dumb to go out climbing when it's been clear for days that a storm is coming? Huh?! Because of you dipshits I couldn't finish my preparations in time and now we're all going to die! Why did I even help you? Now we're going to hear it!”

Slightly dizzy in surprise and not really comprehending what the girl was saying, Nyx sat up and watched as Libertus wrestled her onto the ground, his larger frame helping him tremendously. With a last scream full of undirected rage and frustration and fear, she finally stopped struggling. She lay there, forehead pressed to the ground and shivering.

Nyx and Libertus shared a helpless look. Neither of them had any idea what to do with the little slip of a girl.

“Hey,” Libertus said at last, his tone soft and soothing. The girl didn't react, but he continued to speak anyway. “If I let you go, will you please not attack us again? We don't want to harm you.”

For a moment she didn't say anything. Then, as they thought she would just ignore them and they wondered what they should do now, she muttered something intelligible into the ground.

“What?” asked Libertus.

She wiggled a bit to move her head to the side, glaring at Nyx with fiery brown eyes. “I said fine!”

Libertus let her go and she scuttled away from him until the fire was between them. She tugged the soggy cloak tighter around her and eyed them as if they were dangerous animals. Nyx thought she might be kind of pretty beneath all the grime and dirt with a thin face and strong features. Not as pretty as his sister, though.

Oh damn, his sister. She must be worried sick by now. His mahir, too. She had told him to be back by late afternoon and he now wondered if she had known that the storm would be coming.

To ignore the sinking feeling in his gut, he took a closer look around the cave. It was a natural one with naked walls and a relatively smooth floor. In one corner, close to the fire, was a pile of old blankets and badly tanned furs, a heap of clothes piled next to it, and in another were stacks of pots his mahir would have called a travesty to every smith out there, they were that banged up. There were water buckets, some empty, some not, and a small cache of food. It wasn't exactly homey, but clearly lived in.

“May we sit?” he asked and motioned towards the fire.

The girl stared at them for a bit longer, blinking not once, before she nodded and curled up a bit more. She kept still and pressed her hands over her ears.

Nyx and Libertus sat down across from her on the naked stone floor as close to the fire as they could to try and get warm. The rainwater was freezing cold and stuck his clothes uncomfortably to his skin. He knew he should take them off to prevent a cold or something worse, but he didn't want to scare the girl even more, and so he kept quiet and still, Libertus pressed close to preserve warmth.

They could still hear the storm moaning outside. Nyx stared into the flickering fire and listened to the howling of the wind, to the falling rain, to the rolling thunder and to the flashes of lighting. It had a cadence, he thought, rising and falling like...

Like a dirge or a lament.

Fire flickered and crackled and suddenly Nyx stood on a shore. Waves rolled onto the rough sand beneath his naked feet with a crushing force and on the horizon he could see an armada of ships with black sails in front of a backdrop of dark storm clouds. He had no idea what he was doing. The only thing he knew was the urge to step into the waves of the sea, to give himself over to the sea serpents, so that he may save those dear to him. He would call a storm. A storm that would swallow the death bringing ships of the Conqueror King, the Death Dealer. He would-

A sharp cry startled him awake. Had than been a dream? He blinked drowsily and looked around only to see Libertus on his feet next to him, a blank look on his face and the girl in front of him. She had gone deathly pale beneath the dirt on her skin and she stood there as if to block his path, her hands still pressed over her ears. She trembled like a leaf.

Nyx stumbled onto his feet. He was disoriented and had no idea what was going on, but he knew that he couldn't let his hunting-brother walk out of this cave.

“Libs!”

He grasped him by his still wet collar and jerked him back. Nyx may be smaller and slighter than his best friend, but he was still the overall better fighter. He managed to wrestle him onto the ground with only a minor struggle and slapped him right in the face.

His head jerked to the side with a groan. Libertus blinked, dull eyes clearing to their usual clear blue.

“Nyx, what the fuck? Did you just hit me?”

Nyx let out a relieved breath that was dangerously close to a sob and slumped down, still sitting on Libertus' ribcage.

“Yes. Yes I did, you idiot. You were just about to join the other storm-lost.”

It seemed to take a few moments for the words to register.

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. Now are you going to wander off again, or can I let you up?”

“No, I think I'm good. Get the fuck off me before you start to cry on me. I'm already wet enough as is.”

With a wet laugh Nyx got off and stood up. His eyes were burning with unshed tears. He turned around to the girl who still stood rooted to the place.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked softly, not daring to come closer in fear of scaring her further.

She took large, gulping breaths as if to keep from hyperventilating and still shivered. But here eyes were clear and she was looking at him. She clearly hadn't heard what he had said, but seemed to guess its meaning, because she slowly nodded and made her way back to her side of the fire.

It was silent again. And that was dangerous.

So Nyx did the only thing he could think of to fill the silence and ward the voice on the storm away.

He told a story.

Come, come closer to the fire and let me tell you a story. Listen well for this is a story told to me by my mother and father, who were told by their mother and father back until the Clans were at variance and the sea untamed.

Once there lived a man named Aiolos Ostium, the Restless, he-who-followed-the-wind and Lover of Freedom. He, who called the whole world home. Aiolos Ostium wandered the land that had been named Galahd barely a generation past, and discovered many of its wonders.

But that is not the story I'm about to tell you. Instead I will tell you the story of how he was the first to forge an alliance that went deeper than the ties of blood. It is a brotherhood forged in trust and sacrifice. Life and death. As steadfast as the light that has been gifted to us.

Aiolos Ostium wandered Galahd, guided people to streams he discovered, to fields and herds of animals. Aiolos Ostium wandered, because the restlessness in his soul couldn't be quenched. The Restless people started to call him, for he never stayed anywhere for longer than he had to. Always wandering, always with his eyes turned towards the horizon with a longing people couldn't understand.

Hadn't they wandered enough, those who still remembered the Great Wandering wondered amidst themselves. Hadn't they just found a place they could call home? Where they could rest and grow?

Nothing could tie Aiolos' soul down and his restlessness grew.

Until one day he asked Daidalos Bellum to build him a ship he could steer on his own and would carry him over the sea. At first Daidalos declined, for he had been a child when our people had first come upon the islands that had welcomed us, and could still remember the hardships that had been endured before. The hunting and killing of our people. The hunger and the sickness. Even in his old age he could not understand how a person would ever want to leave again.

It was inconceivable.

But Aiolos persisted. Everyday he came and asked for a ship and everyday he received the same answer.

'No.'

But still he came and when one day he didn't, Daidalos was glad. However, when he didn't come the next day or the day after that, Daidalos Bellum grew worried. In a strange way that restless young man had grown on him.

'One more day', he swore to himself. 'I will wait one more day and should he not come, I will search for him.'

Morning came and Aiolos again wasn't on his doorstep as the first light climbed over the horizon. So he set out in search of the stubborn young man who loved freedom more than anything. To his surprise he found him not far away on a cliff staring longingly towards the horizon where the sky met the sea in a haze of blue.

The sight moved Daidalos so deeply that he agreed to build a ship that would carry Aiolos wherever he desired.

And so it was done.

Aiolos Ostium, the Restless and Lover of Freedom, set out on a calm summer morning to follow the wind that had been singing to him of all the wonders he had yet to see.

For three days and nights he was at sea. He spoke to the sea serpents who named him Companion of the Wind, and marvelled at their scales as they glowed in the night.

On the fourth day he saw land, and with joy in his heart he bid his new friends farewell and went ashore. He danced over the pale sands with the wind as his partner until he lay between tall stalks of grass, breathless and happier than he could ever remember being.

For days and days he wandered, marvelling at each new bird, new animal and new plant he saw. Each night he would draw the glyphs of protection and warding to keep the daemons away and each night he would sleep unmolested.

It was on his thirteenth day in Cleigne, on the continent that would be called Lucis not long from now, that he came upon the first settlement. Aiolos had been wandering steadily closer to the Rock of Ravathog. It spewed fire and smoke in a fury that had yet to diminish. It's extensions glowed in an unholy light.

The settlement was of a people who clung to their worship of the Burner, the Fickle and Gift-Giver. They clung to his fires with the desperation of a drowning man. They prayed to him, burned for him, threw themselves at the feet of his smouldering grave and still he ignored them.

But they were not willing to give up so easily, for they had found new victims to sacrifice in the name of their God. A God who had taken everything from them when he had drowned Solheim in his flames and fury. Goaded as though he may have been by the one whose name I will not speak here.

These people, desperate and selfish, had found a family wandering, fleeing from pursuers they would not name. A family with braids and beads in their hair, for you see, not all of us had dared to journey across the wild waters. Not all of us had dared to leave the lands that had once been our homes.

And so this family had stayed, had refused the call, and continued their wandering. Until they had come upon a settlement at the foot of Rock Ravathog. A father, a mother and three children they were. Two girls and a boy, all beneath the age of twelve.

Aiolos Ostium saw what was to befall the children, a pyre stacked high at the centre of the town. Now he knew why the wind had called to him and he thanked it as he grimly waited until midday in his hiding place. Remember, midday was the time when we used to stay inside, not daring to sully the sun with our presence. But such things are long past and so Aiolos snuck into the town and towards the cage the children were kept in.

It was the boy who saw him first, for he had the sharpest eyes of all of the children. He saw the braids and beads in the hair of the man who killed their jailer and kept quiet. He watched as he fell towards the floor, dead, and bid his sisters to be silent.

They were silent as their cage was opened, they were silent as they snuck out of the settlement full of desperate and manic souls and they were silent as they walked until night fell.

It was only then that Aiolos Ostium asked for their names and gave his in return. It was only then, when a fire burned and the wards were drawn, that he asked what had happened as they shared what food and water the Restless and Companion of the Wind still had.

It was the oldest, one of the girls, who spoke, for of the three, it was her words came the easiest to: 'Thank you, Great Wanderer, for our rescue. My name is Euros, my brother is named Notos and my sister Zephyra. We are what is left of Clan Ulric in this land.'

And she told him of the hardships they had had to endure. Of how their parents had decided to try and brave the sea regardless of the fear their own parents had instilled in them. How they had come upon a settlement that had offered help only for them to slit their parents' throats.

Aiolos listened in grave silence and, after Euros had finished her tale, spoke a prayer for the souls that would never see the wild splendour of Galahd. Then he told them of the sea and how he had met the sea serpents. He told them of the vast jungles and deep canyons, of wild rivers and steep cliffs. He told them of the words the wind had whispered to him and how they had brought him to the siblings.

It was with the fire as his witness that he named all three his children. His to nourish and his to protect.

Throughout the whole journey back towards Galahd he told them about their new home and they listened in rapt attention, for they were Ulrics and the wildness is in their blood.

And that is the story of how the Ostium and the Ulric were bound together by the spirits, how a man followed the wind and finally found piece within himself.

Nyx fell silent and swallowed. His throat was dry as dust.

Without saying a word the girl stood up and went towards one of the buckets full of water. She had stopped to cover her ears at the beginning of his story and listened in rapt attention. Her eyes had sparkled with a quiet joy that had given him the confidence to keep going.

She came back with a wooden cup of water and put it down just within reach of his arms before she scampered off to her place again. He smiled at her in thanks and emptied half of it in one gulp.

“You forgot the correct ending,” Libertus was helpful to comment, but there was no heat behind it, only a quiet thankfulness.

“Oh shut up,” Nyx grouched playfully. “You're not able to tell it any better than I do.”

“I so do.” Libertus turned towards the girl. “The right ending is that they kept wandering the shores for nearly a year because the boat Aiolos had come in was too small for all four of them. He didn't have any mainlander money to buy one and neither did a ship set course towards Galahd. Back then the Lucians thought it was cursed or something, you know? In some way they still do. Anyway, Aiolos and the Ulric children had to be careful, because, while most Galahkari had left at that point, many of the older Lucians still knew what our braids meant. They would have killed all four of them. In the end, they found a boat in what's now called Cape Caem and sailed all the way back to Galahd.”

“And that's how the Ulrics came to Galahd?” asked the girl.

It was the first time she had spoken towards them in a normal tone. It felt a bit like a victory for Nyx.

“Yes,” he jumped to say. “Us Ulrics are so special we were fashionably late.”

He grinned, wide and reckless. The girl giggled.

Another victory for team Ostium-Ulric, Nyx thought in satisfaction.

There were a few beats of nervous silence in which the girl busied herself with feeding the fire new wood, before she settled again. Before Libertus could open his mouth to tell a story of his own, she drew a deep breath. Her voice was light and steady as she spoke. And other than Nyx, she didn't stumble once over the words.

“Come, come closer to the fire and let me tell you a story. Listen well for this is a story told to me by those that came before me back until the first people stepped foot on these islands and the world was young. Come and listen closely as I tell you of the day magic died.”

Around and around it went. One story after the other while the voice-who-was-many-and-one howled and moaned on the storm and the waves. None of them had any idea how much time had passed when the winds beating against the canyon quieted, but still they did not dare stop in fear that it was only a brief lull.

They kept telling the stories of their people, making parts up they had forgotten as they went along, until they fell into an exhausted sleep. They slept in a tangle of limbs beneath a still damp gekkan fur cloak to keep warm and no strange dreams of black sails and stormy shores plagued them.

Nyx jerked awake with a start. For a second he didn't know where he was as he stared into the darkness surrounding him. He felt warm. Two bodies pressed against his as they lay beneath a smelly fur cloak.

The bet. The canyon. The storm. The girl.

They had survived an autumn storm in a cave with nothing but stories to distract them. Their ancestors must have smiled upon them. The fire had gone out while they had slept and he lay there and wondered what had woken him. He still felt tired, his limbs were sore from climbing halfway down the canyon and his throat felt dry and like something had died in it from all the talking. He was hungry.

“Fuck,” he cursed loudly and sat up.

The other two grumbled in dissatisfaction at the method used to wake them up.

“What the fuck, Nyx? Five more minutes, then we can get back out hunting,” Libertus grumbled, only half his words intelligible.

“Wake up, Libs! We need to go home. Our parents will be worried sick.”

“Wha'?”

Nyx could barely make out Libertus' form in that sliver of light that made its way in from the entrance of the cave. He chose to do the sensible thing in this situation: he kicked his hunting-brother in the shin.

Cursing up a storm, Libertus finally sat up.

“Shit. You're right,” he said as soon as he was awake enough to remember what had happened. “How long have we been here for?”

Nyx had no idea.

“The sun is out,” said the girl from next to them. “Do you really need to go?”

“Yeah,” Nyx mumbled with a grimace.

He liked her and she was barely older than his own sister. Where were her parents? Or her guardians? Everybody had at least some family to raise them. He didn't dare ask, however.

“You could come with us, you know. We survived together what not many people do outside their homes. You're our storm-sister now,” stated Libertus with a gravitas that was utterly ridiculous on him.

The girl giggled. It was a nice sound.

“Storm-sister,” she repeated, something wistful in her voice. “You don't even know my name and you want to be my brothers?”

“Well, what's your name then?” asked Libertus with all the tact he possessed. Which was to say: none.

A cool gust of air traveled over Nyx' skin as the girl stood up. Her silhouette stood in front of them, straight backed and hands on slight hips.

“My name is Crowe. Crowe no name.”

The last part she said like a challenge, daring them to say something about it. Wisely Nyx chose to keep his moth shut. He had never met a nameless person in his life before. It stumped him quite a bit, if he were honest with himself, and so he did with it like he did with everything he didn't know what to do with. He ignored it.

“Nice to meet you, Crowe. Can we go now. Please?”

For the longest time there was no answer. Nyx was starting to get worried when he heard a quiet sob.

“Crowe?” he asked hesitantly.

“Sh-shut up and let's go,” she said, something unbelievably vulnerable in her voice, and marched out of the cave.

Next to him Libertus grumbled something that had to do with “sister” and “idiot siblings” before he, too, stood up and followed Crowe out of the cave.

They waited for Nyx by the entrance. Libertus with an expression on his face that clearly said he would soon resort to murder for something to eat, and Crowe with suspiciously teary eyes and a stubborn set to her jaw that dared the two boys to say anything.

The wind was cold and clean and the sun shone in a blinding brightness as they made their way up the side of the canyon with Crowe as their guide.

Suddenly Nyx had to laugh. He looked up to where his new storm-sister was. She had stopped in her ascent to look back at him with curiosity.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked.

“I won the bet,” he called back, a huge grin on his face.

Ha! Take that, Philotes Altius! This would show her to pick on him or Libertus again. He laughed a second time.

“Stop with your shitty bet, Nyx and continue climbing! I want a hot shower and some breakfast, and if I have to gag you and drag you up this canyon to get both, so be it!”

[blackpaperwritings]

You're all mine

Chapter 1 ~ Found You

Conner was surprised, happy yes, but surprised. He had finally found Karl, a long lost friend of his from back in the park, when they were both still animated objects. It's been about a month since finding him, he was in the same city too luckily. Conner was currently preparing to go knab him. He had chloroform on him and a rag, stowed away in his satchel. He also had rope, a blindfold, and two cloths laying beside the chair in the middle of his room, for when he got back with the blonde. He quickly went out to his car and hopped in, having to take a moment to calm himself from the giddy feeling he had. He had lost Karl twice, and now he'll make sure he never loses him again. He pushed the key into the ignition and turned it, starting up the engine. He sat for a minute or two before pulling out of the driveway and driving down the street, keeping his eyes on the road. He had to drive all the way across town to get to Karl, which was fine. He didn't mind much. It felt like time was dragging on forever though, god he just wanted Karl in his arms right at this very moment, clinging onto him in his sleep... Conner couldn't help but blush a little bit, smiling softly.

"Beautiful..." He subconsciously muttered, licking his lips softly. He was getting rather impatient, and was thinking of speeding, but decided against that. If he got caught it would just take longer to get to his beloved. About ten minutes later, he reached the area that Karl lived in. It was one of the upper class neighborhoods, where the rich people lived. That made sense though, as Karl was the leader of an assassination organization. Conner dug pretty deep to figure that out. He parked his car behind Karl's home, a large three story house with a pool in the backyard. It was dark out so nobody would see him in these clothes. What about his eyes though?... He forgot about that, but remembered when he looked in the rearview mirror that they had a soft glow in the night. He thought it was probably just one of the side affects of Big Bad's magic, but it still was annoying. He pulled his hood over his head and pulled it tight, then grabbed his sunglasses from the glasses container thing on the ceiling of the car and put them on, then looked in the mirror. The sunglasses hid the glow of his eyes well enough, that should be good.

Conner got out of his car and quietly shut the door, trying not to be too loud. He made sure he had everything he needed; chloroform and a rag. He didn't need any restraints, as it wasn't like he was driving four hours away, no it was just half an hour. Plus it was less suspicious if anyone saw him carrying Karl without him being tied up. He picked the lock on the back gate and quickly entered, closing the gate behind him. He started towards the house, humming softly. He knew which room was Karl's. He knew pretty much everything about Karl, as he had dug up as much as he could about the blonde. He went over to the backdoor and started picking the lock, soon getting inside. He smiled and looked around, making his way to the stairwell. The hardest part was passing by the living room door without being seen, as Karl was sat on the couch, staring at the TV. He managed though and made his way to Karl's room, quietly getting inside. He went to one of the corners and hid, getting his chloroform rag ready. He had to sit there a while, but eventually he heard the door open and got into position, ready to grab Karl. He took his sunglasses off so he could see easier, although it made it more probable that he'd be noticed. Karl was changing at the moment, humming softly was he pulled his sweat pants on, singing softly to himself. He turned towards the mirror and started brushing out his hair, which is what he did every night to prevent knots.

"Undo my sad, undo what hurts so bad, undo my pain, gotta get out, through the-" Karl cut himself off with a gasp as he spotted Conner's eyes in the mirror, he started towards his nightstand, but Conner was quicker, he grabbed Karl and pulled him close, pressing the cloth up against his face. Karl started clawing at his hand, struggling against him, he managed to get free, but stumbled and fell to his knees, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!" He yelled, turning and looking at Conner.

"I didn't think you'd recognize me.." Conner quickly pinned Karl to the ground, sitting on his torso and trapping his arms to his sides.

"GET OFF OF ME YOU PSYCHO!! I DON'T KNOW WHO THE HELL YOU-" Karl was cut off by the rag being shoved against his face. Try as he might, he couldn't wriggle free.

"Awe... Do you seriously not remember your old friend Climber?..." Conner said in a mock sadness, just like Karl. Karl's eyes widened a bit in realization and he gasped a bit, before his eyes slowly closed as he passed out. Conner slowly pulled the rag away, then made sure Karl was actually passed out. He got up and walked over to where he had set his sunglasses, grabbed them, and walked back over. He picked the smaller male up bridal style and quickly exited the house, humming softly. He put Karl in the back of his car and then hopped in the driver seat, starting the car and driving home, "Well, that was surprisingly successful.." he was expecting the blonde to put up way more of a fight, "Oh well, I've got him now, and that's all that matters.."

*~~~~*°*~~~~*

Karl slowly woke up, groaning softly. He raised his head a little bit, but soon realized that he was blindfolded. He tried to move his arms, which were restrained behind him, then his legs, which were restrained to the legs of the chair he was sitting in. He went to say 'what the fuck?!' but it came out severely muffled. He was gagged and whatever he tried to say came out sounding like mumbles. He started struggling against his restraints, attempting to scream or something, but the gag severally muffled it. The gag seemed to consist of a cloth shoved in his mouth and something holding it in place, it felt like another cloth but he couldn't be certain. He continued to struggle, trying to get free. The way he was tied up was no normal kidnapper's type of tying up, from what it felt like, his kidnapper put hard work into making sure he couldn't escape, especially with his arms. He continued to struggle though, cussing into his gag. Soon he heard the door open, which made him stop.

"Ah, I see you're awake! Good morning sleepy head! Well, technically good afternoon but eh, who cares?" The person said. He sounded familiar... The man from last night!! CLIMBER!!

"hnger?" Oh right, the gag. Karl sighed a bit in annoyance afterwards, pulling at the rope a bit. Climber walked over and pulled the first part of the gag off, then pulled out the cloth.

"There we go! Now, what were you saying?"

"Climber?? Is that you??"

"Why yes, it quite is! Though I prefer the name Conner now."

"Riight. Now. WHY THE FUCK DID YOU KIDNAP ME?!" Karl struggled against his bindings, rocking the chair a little bit.

"Ask nicer and maybe I'll tell you." Conner said with a stoic expression, putting his hand on the chair to stop Karl from rocking it.

"Huuuuugh.... Fiiine.. Why did you kidnap me?" Karl asked in an almost mocking voice.

"I said nice, not mocking."

"OH JUST FUCKIN' TELL ME ALREADY!!"

"You're a lot more angry than I remember.."

"And your a lot more psycho than I remember!"

"Calm down before you end up hurting yourself."

"Calm down?! CALM DOWN?! HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO CALM DOWN WHE-" Karl was cut off when he felt a sudden stinging pain in his cheek and his head was thrown aside, "D-Did... Did you just slap me?"

"Yes, and I'll do it again unless you calm down."

"Damn you've changed a LOT."

"I'm gonna blame that on Big Bad..."

"Big who??"

"Ah, nobody important, at least not right now..."

"Okay?? Either way," Karl shook his head, "Why the hell did you kidnap me?!"

"Because I... love you.."

"Wh- huh???" Karl was extremely confused, "I thought you hated me!"

"No, I didn't.."

"You could've just talked to me, you didn't have to fuckin' kidnap me!"

"I didn't wanna lose you again.. I lost you twice already... You died.. came back.. and then left...."

"You still could've just talked to me.." Karl sighed a bit, "Can you take this blindfold off??"

"Oh, yeah sure." Conner reached behind Karl's head and pulled the blindfold off, discarding it beside the chair, "There. I'm gonna go make you some food, I'll be back soon." He pat Karl's head and went to the door.

"See ya Climber."

"It's Conner."

"I can call you cloth guy instead!"

"Mm, no. Call me Conner."

"I'll call you Conney."

"Good enough." Conner closed the door behind him, shaking his head and chuckling, "Just as silly as ever..." He smiled and headed downstairs.

Karl looked around a little bit, "Nice room.." he muttered, "Though a bit bland..." He looked down at the ropes across his torso, "That's rather intricate.." he craned his head to look at his arms, "He really didn't want me escaping... This seems more for aesthetic appeal though..." He pulled at the rope more, "I wonder..." A blush crept onto his face as a few not so family friendly thoughts came to mind, he quickly shook off the thought, he didn't even know if Conner was into that kind of stuff. Though with this kind of skill... How did he even learn to do this? Does he take some weird class or something?? He sighed softly and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling tiredly, realizing he still felt drowsy from whatever the hell Conner used on him. He just wanted to close his eyes and drift off again.. Suddenly Karl was interrupted by the door opening, "That was fast Con." He said as he looked, but then realized, "Oh, long time no see Clarice." The brunette stared for a moment before shouting down the stairs.

"CONNER WHY THE FUCK IS KARL TIED TO A CHAIR IN YOUR ROOM?!"

"Stop yelling, Jesus... You'll give me a headache." Karl grumbled, yawning a small bit. Conner soon came up the stairs, looking between Clarice and Karl.

"You've seen my search history-"

"I didn't realize you were going to kidnap him!! I thought you were just trying to find him to get in touch again!!"

"Well uh-"

"Is this why you've been taking those shibari classes?!"

"No not entirely-"

"Clarice." Karl said, though was ignored.

"Conner this is a crime!! Do you realize how much trouble you could get in?!"

"Clarice!" Karl said a little louder.

"Y-Yes, b-bu-" Conner went to speak, only to get cut off again.

"YOU'LL GO TO JAIL CONNER! IF PEOPLE REALIZE HE'S MISSING YOU'LL GET CAUGHT!!"

"CLARICE!!" Karl yelled in anger and frustration.

"WHAT?!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU'RE GIVING ME A HEADACHE!!"

"HOW ARE YOU OKAY WITH THIS?!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'VE GONE THROUGH!! THIS IS LIKE A FUCKING WALK IN THE PARK!! NOW SHUT UP!!"

"FINE!! Fine! ... I'm going to my room." Clarice turned and walked away, arms crossed. Conner stood there in awkward silence, luckily having it soon being broken by Karl.

"So uh... How about that food?"

"Ah! Right! I'll be right back!" Conner closed the door again and quickly went downstairs to grab Karl something to eat.

[gloomy-goober]

Warning for this chapter: -Dangerous stunts, ocean, drowning, weaponry, uuuuhhh...that is about it (Also stupid line break picture for the tumblr version)

Sand crunched under his bare feet as he walked along the beach. The sun hung low in the sky and created a long shadow that disappeared into the dark green water. Wood and shells scattered the shore as waves began to move higher and higher as high tide came back in to greet the moon.

Sea foam wrapped around his ankles as he diverted his straight path along the sandy shore to a cluster of rocks. He grabbed onto a stone; the cold, wet algae finding a way under his fingernails as he pulled himself up. Each pull and tug, movement of ascension, was met with some hesitation as he adjusted his grip so he would not fall back onto the rocks below.

The man pulled himself up onto a hidden path, more likely a part of the rock had broken away long ago and left this flat section. The ledge he stood on was barely wide enough for him to stand, his back forced to be against the rock wall behind him, so he did not fall.

Salty wind blew his messy bangs into his face as he began to inch around the rock, careful of every step that he took. He used his bare feet to feel for any loose stone before he put his weight fully onto it. The journey would have taken an inexperienced climber twenty minutes, but he did it in half the time.

Down below him the beach was gone. Waves hit the rocky sides of the cliff angrily. The dark churning water only seemed more menacing as the light of the sun began to disappear. Soon he would be left in the dark, but he did not care.

A grin stretched onto his face as he hopped nimbly to a ledge much wider and easier to keep balance. Enough room for him to feel perfectly safe and steady.

The bag that he had been carrying was put down carelessly as he looked down over the side. Down at the choppy waters. His grin fading into a look of confusion when he thought he spotted something under the dark waves.

Cautiously, he moved closer to the edge and squinted down. The darkness of the oncoming night no longer a comfort as it hid something under the waves. His toes curled to clutch at the edge of the rock; body resisted the want to look closer in fear of falling.

“Hello?” His voice echoed off the walls and was drowned out by the sound of waves, “Are you one of mine?”

There was no answer. He stood up straighter and took a small step back from the edge of the cliff. He furrowed his brows in thought. The shadow below the waves had been too vague for him to tell what waited below the waves.

“Guess I am not doing an evening dive,” he sighed to himself. A black expression appeared on his face before he shrugged and he turned on his heel, “Ah well. Can still work on my super-secret project.”

With a flick of his wrist the cliff face that housed the ledge he stood on opened-up like a door. Green torches came to life and showed a long hallway that seemed to go on for miles. Water dripped from the ceiling and the hall gave a blast of cold, damp air.

The man took in a deep breath and sighed. A happy smile on his face as he moved to grab his bag. He did not make it over to it. The cliff ledge he stood on shook and made him slip on the slippery rock. He held his hands out to catch his balance.

For a moment it looked like he would be safe as his lower back hit the rock he had been balanced on. His breath left his lungs with a small wheeze as the surface under him fell still.

Something below him had smashed into the rock.

Something under the waves.

He turned his head to look down back at the water that was below him. Somehow, in this vulnerable position, the drop down seemed much farther then before. In the darkness of the newly settled night he saw nothing. Only heard the crash of the waves. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he tried to sit up.

Another hit shook the cliff more.

He began to slide.

Hands unable to grab onto anything he felt himself tip off the ledge. Wind whistled around him loudly as tried to shake himself from his shock to grab onto something; anything.

He heard someone screaming. He vaguely wondered who it was. Who noticed his fall?

He only became aware that it was his own scream when what little air he still had in his lungs was knocked out by the force of the water as he landed. The pain from the hard smack hurt. The waves tossed him under and then smashed him against the cliff that he had once stood on top of.

The saltwater stung his eyes as he forced them open as the waves continued to pummel him against the rough surface of the cliff. What little air he still had escaped in bubbles as he tried to figure which way was up; which way was towards air.

Black danced around his vision as the waves smashed him back against the rocks once more. He did his best to shake it off as the cry from his lungs pleaded with him to move. To get oxygen.

He pushed off the cliff side with all his might; hands and feet scraped by the harsh surface so that the saltwater could sting them. It was worth it for the sweet taste of air as he broke the surface of the water.

The man gasped and sputtered. Trying to get as much air into his lungs as possible before he would have to try and swim back to the beach. At least, that had been the plan.

Something below the surface of the wild waves had moved closer. Something had brushed against his leg. He tried to see but the darkness of the night, the movement of the water, and his own tired mind could not find anything to spot. He only got a clear lock on it when he felt something wrap tightly around his ankle.

Not a sound left him as the creature pulled Remus back under the waves. The ocean seeming to calm once the deed was done.

The mindscape, or palace as the twins insisted, was calm. Thomas was in bed reading a book that he had wanted to pick up for a few months, so the sides had the rest of the night free. Patton took this as an indication that they could all have a family dinner and game night. While met with different reactions from certain sides, Roman had jumped on board immediately.

He did not have to do much in terms of creative ideas while Thomas was focused on another’s creative work. This was how he found himself dancing around Patton in the warm kitchen as they finished up the final preparations for dinner.

“I think these biscuits are ready to go, Padre.”

Roman turned the oven off with a tap of a button and pulled on the oven mitts. The biscuits that he pulled out were golden brown. The heat the emitted did not stop Roman from reaching for one once he set the baking sheet down and pulled the mitts off.

Instead of a rewarding treat he found his arms full of plates and cutlery.

“Not yet they need to cool, my hungry prince,” Patton giggled. “Besides, don’t want to ruin the appetite so close to dinner time.”

“But Patton,” Roman pouted, “It is just one.”

“One that will burn your mouth like last time,” Patton moved to stir the mac and cheese.

“It was not that bad.”

Patton sighed and shook his head in fondness at the impatience of the creative side.

“Alright, how about this, you can have one as soon as you finish setting the table for me.”

Roman stood up straighter and hugged the tableware he had been handed, “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Roman grinned brightly and rushed to get out of the kitchen, “I am holding you to that, Pat!”

A quest was obtained and Roman was determined to do his best job at it. His goal in sight, the tasty treat that he would get to eat before dinner even began. Maybe if he was lucky, he could sneak some of the Wild Berry Crofters onto it before Logan came downstairs.

He hummed a tune to himself as he placed all the plates in front of every chair. Cloth napkins appeared out of thin air, folded into swans at the flick of a wrist, before they landed gently on each plate.

The last napkin swan had just touched down onto the shiny surface of the plate when a sudden feeling of panic seized him. The cups and silverware fell to the ground as the usually put together prince braced himself onto the nearest chair. He clutched at the front of his uniform as the pain seemed to only grow, centering on his chest.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He had to do something and yet, he felt frozen. Frozen and doubled over in the dining room; stuck in place to stare down at his shoes.

Something was wrong.

“-man?”

Something is wrong.

“Roman!”

He distantly heard a voice calling his name.

“Something is wrong,” he mumbled the words to himself under his breath.

“Roman, what is wrong? Are you okay?”

The warm hand that touched him freed him from the spell of terror, but he only became more worried as the pain turned into simply a dull throb. A dying memory, a dying force, buried deep within him.

Patton looked at him with worried eyes behind his glasses; obviously trying to find a physical injury on the side before him.

“What happened? Did you stab yourself with one of the steak knives?”

Roman gently moved Patton’s hands off him and rushed towards the stairs.

Something is wrong. Something is wrong.

“Roman!?!” Patton was at his heels. “Roman, please, tell me what happened? You’re worrying me.”

“I’m fine,” Roman insisted as he pushed into his bedroom. He nimbly jumped over his brother’s mess so he could get to the wall of weapons that was situated on his brother’s side of the room. “But I think I am going to be late for dinner.”

Roman picked up a net, his sword, and then hesitantly grabbed Remus’ morning star.

“What…what do you mean you are going to miss dinner?” Roman turned to find Patton standing in the doorway, a scared look on his face.

“I’m fine, Patton,” he tried to give a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. “But…But Remus isn’t.”

The dull ache in his chest told him he could not delay. Could not wait for Patton to question him more on specifics. The longer he stood there and did nothing the more likely it was that Thomas would lose half of his creativity; that he would lose his brother.

Roman only paused his rush to get out of the room to give Patton a quick hug. The morning star slung over his shoulder, his sword strapped to his belt, and a small hope. A small hope that moved him fast out the door and towards the imagination.

That he could get to his brother in time.

[soclosewiz]

Zombie Finger

I've considered Seattle home for a few years now, but when I returned in April after a month away, I somehow felt very much not at home in my own apartment, my climbing gym, and pretty much anywhere I went in what was supposed to be my city. I was immediately homesick for the mountains, the desert, or simply just the outdoors. Freedom had become a hard habit to break now that I had gotten a taste of it. After ten days of straight work, rain, and sickness, I eagerly jumped on the opportunity to get out of town and follow my friend Jasna to Smith to support her attempts on To Bolt or Not To Be, a dream project of hers. She told me she could stay for up to two weeks if necessary, so I planted the idea in the back of my mind that I might not be back in time for work on Monday when the weekend was over. I drove down solo on a Wednesday night, she sent on Thursday evening, and Sunday morning I awoke to an empty campground and a note that she had bailed back to Seattle. I had sent nothing myself, having been fighting off my cold the entire time. Thus, I was far from ready for my own departure, despite my sudden lack of partners. 

With no belayer for the day, nor place to stay for the night (aside from solo in the BLM land), I had to fight my ever present fear of the unknown that told me to just bail back to Seattle rather than face the uncertainty of being alone. Instead I headed for Redpoint, the local gear/beer/coffee shop, to wait for opportunity to strike. I found a familiar face outside: a friend named Austin with whom at the time I had more mutual friends than actual memories together. We had crossed paths plenty over the years, but barely knew each other on a personal level. Regardless, we were both psyched, and immediately made plans to climb that evening along with Jess (whom I didn’t know at all) when she got off work at RP. The two of them would quickly become one of the main reasons I stuck around Smith for as long as I did. Austin invited me to stay with them at Tree Matt’s house, where a commune of vans had assembled just outside of town that housed an assortment of climbers, slackliners, dirtbags, and Terreboners that would quickly become like family to me. 

I quickly fell into a happy routine: waking up slowly to the sun creeping around the edges of my curtains as I waited until the last possible minute to rip them down, crawl into the driver's seat, and race to Redpoint to use the bathroom. After that I would work for awhile, sit around playing yard games, board games, or music, stretching, or just straight up loitering, and then eventually head off to climb with whoever was most psyched. Usually Austin. When our fingers ached too much to climb any more, or the pangs of hunger were too strong, we would bail back to RP for beer (Bend’s surplus of breweries meant the shop was always well stocked) and usually more chess with whoever happened to be around. 

Life was cheap, convenient, and easy. The only thing not so easy about the central Oregon desert was the climbing itself. Smith is known for being sandbagged, runout, spicy, and extremely technical, and after the rough start I had to keep telling myself that I just needed to put in the time and eventually I would hit my stride with the difficult, scary, and insecure style. One of my first days of actually climbing well came when I was invited to venture up into the Marsupials with Alan, a local developer/crusher that was eager to put my psyche to the test when it came to arduous approaches and chances of choss on newly bolted lines. I was hesitant at first, but he sold me on the adventure by promising that we wouldn't have to carry much gear up the steep hill, so it wouldn't actually be much more of a hike than the standard Smith Rock slog. The next day as we assembled our packs he asked if I had room in mine for a camera. Sure, no big deal. And also a rope... So much for traveling light! While there may have been some sandbagging to get me to agree to go, it was all well worth it when I got a taste of the climbing at the 'Sups,' a more pumpy and powerful (aka more in line with my strengths) style than Smith proper. I managed a second ascent of one of Alan's excellent 5.13s, the Empire Strikes Back, after breaking off a few holds along the way. The taste of success, as well as the healing of a split tip that had plagued me up until that point, made me start to think that I had finally unlocked the ability to climb well at Smith. Little did I know that my battle for climbing success had only just begun.

[Alan getting into the first rest on one of his projects in the Marsupials]

Two days later I split another tip on Taco Chips, blowing my send with some sloppy footwork on one of the easier moves well past the crux. Frustrating, but not the end of the world. I could still climb well enough, I thought to myself as I managed to clip the chains on point several tries later. The following day was the Smith Rock Spring Thing anyway, so a bit of rest should mean I could heal up quickly. During the event I signed up for the Marsupials project, thinking how great it would be to give back to an area that had left me with a pretty meaningful first impression. The trail needed serious work, and I was psyched to try and be a good samaritan. We hiked up (the extra long way) and started moving rocks around to build terraces and stairs. In my enthusiasm, I hoisted a particularly large one right on top of my left hand. Pain shot through several of my fingers at once and a feeling of dread hit me as I immediately knew I had done some serious damage. I looked at the back of my hand to see what I had done to the nails, and was surprised to see they all looked perfectly normal. Then I flipped my hand over and had to force down my gag reflex as my eyes were immediately drawn to the dime-sized blood blister that now took up the entire pad of my middle finger. The most important finger for climbing in Smith’s pockets. 

 Jess and Adam gathered around me as we debated what to do. They insisted I shouldn’t pop it, but it felt like if I didn’t it was going to explode as it continued to inflate with more and more blood. I let the doom and gloom take over my disposition as I was sure I wouldn't climb for days, maybe even weeks as the skin inevitably fell off, or maybe the nail fell off, or maybe the entire finger just fell off. Tears ran down my face as I wondered if I should just head home right then and there to lick my wounds. After a semi-painful rest of the day, a few drinks and a free rope later, I decided the event wasn't a total loss and decided to stick it out at least a few days to see what happened. That night as I stood around a bonfire at Matt’s I listened to friends make plans to climb the next day, miserably lamenting my own loss of ability to try hard. When talk of trad climbing came up, my ears perked up like so many of the dogs that loitered at Redpoint with the climbers each day. That sounded like something I could do with the finger! 

[All taped up and waiting for the rain to stop in the lower gorge]

 A lot of tape and a needle to drain the blood and fluid after every attempt enabled me to climb the following day, to my great excitement. Crack climbing allowed me to still get after it without using the finger. The day after that I found myself able to weight it too, though it still needed to be drained after every pitch. Soon it ceased to even cause pain, though each day brought with it all kinds of changes in its appearance, none any less disturbing than those before. At first it was black and blue and full of blood-- that was when it was most painful. Immediately following that it turned white and squishy, like all the skin had been submerged in water for too long, or maybe it had just died and started to rot away. After that it became red underneath and hard as plastic, which was when I decided I was fed up with the amount of tape and superglue I was using, and started just climbing on it. Every stage was equally disgusting, and thus it was dubbed it the Zombie Finger.

[The progression of the Zombie Finger, from when it first happened to after my last pitch on my last day.] 

I was cautious at first, for the thought of the entire thing peeling off to reveal raw hamburger and bone underneath sat at the forefront of my mind as I tested it without tape for the first time. Soon enough though, I discovered that it was at a point where it was only holding me back as much as I was willing to let it. The same can be said for most excuses at Smith. “It’s only heady if you have a weak mind.” 

Finally, it was time to crush. Unfortunately the return of my skin coincided with the return of the impending summer heat, and a string of back to back 80 degree days struck all the climbers like a tidal wave of lethargy and frustration. We had to wait until the late evening to climb, then try and crank out a few pitches before the sun set and the park closed. Even doing that made the rubber on our climbing shoes feel like chewing gum on the hot rock, and fingers feel like mush on the small holds that define Smith climbing. Nonetheless, if I could climb through the zombie finger, I could deal with the temperatures. I gummed my way up Karate Crack on one of the worst days, then finally managed to send Oxygen and Nacho Cheese on my last day after a thunderstorm cranked the humidity up to almost unbearable levels.

A last day of project sending ended my time at Smith on a high note, but the majority of my time there was defined not by climbing success, but by important lessons learned, friendships made, and experiences captured. From jamming late into the night with the TerreBand, to finding beginner’s luck at poker, to reconnecting with old Tinder dates, to not scoring a single point at foosball, to second hand smoke, to bonding over shared childhood confusion over Disney characters, to failing to find river crossings in the dark, to the most beautiful sunsets imaginable, to all the things eaten by Jess’s dog, to how to get Austin to take a shower, to second ascents, to so many rest days that ended with going climbing instead, to NOT taking the whip on full Heinous Cling, and most importantly of all, to each and every incredible person I got to know-- Smith has once again cemented itself in my memory as a place of real magic. I might have to make every four day weekend turn into a spontaneous three week trip from now on!

[thoughtfulcupcakesublime]

For this episode of Community Conversations, we spoke with Jennifer Schock-Bolles, the Executive Director from Project Mend-A-House.

Q: So, tell us about the organization’s history.

A: So, Project Mend-A-House was founded in 1984 by a Meals-On-Wheels volunteer Lily Blackwell. And we were founded in Prince William County – we only operate in Prince William County – so we’re about as local as you can get.

Q: What is the mission of Project Mend-A-House?

A:  Our mission has changed over the years. It used to be that we provided primarily free home repairs. But now our mission, because our clientele are mostly seniors, people with disabilities, and veterans who are low income, it’s really to help them remain safely and independently in their homes. So it’s more about an ‘aging in place’ focus, instead of just home repair.

Q: So what kinds of things do you actually do in the community – you know, whether it be a home repairs – what do you guys actually fix or repair? Is it just small things or are they large things – are they ramps? What kind is it?

A: Our home repair program is minor home repairs. So we fix leaky faucets, we rehang gutters – we do – some of our projects can be fairly major though, in that we replace flooring, we remove some minor mold. If a faucet’s leaked for several years, then it’s not just replacing the faucet – you’re replacing the lower cabinets, that kind of thing. And we also install ramps, grab bars. We really focus a lot on accessibility and safety.

We have a durable medical equipment closet, so we give out things like stair climbers, hospital beds, wheelchairs, power scooters. And then, in the past few years, we’ve actually expanded our programs again back to the ‘aging in place’ focus. We partner with George Mason University to offer a 10-week group exercise class that’s designed to strengthen your balance and flexibility and prevent falls, hopefully. And then, just in the past year we’ve started offering a program developed at Stanford – it’s the chronic disease self-management program, and we also have a diabetes component as well. And we partner with the Prince William Area Agency on Aging for that program.

Q: So, how can people get involved with your organization, and what can they do?

A: Oh my gosh, yes. So we rely very heavily on volunteers and community support. All of our home repairs are done by volunteers – we have a very, very small staff. And the great thing about the home repairs – it’s a great opportunity if you’re a DIY kind of person to either hone your skills or learn new skills. And we have some very experienced volunteers that act as team leaders, and we’re always looking for that, but don’t be afraid if you aren’t real confident in your home repair skills – we can still use you.

We also, our chronic disease self-management program is led by a volunteer leader. And we have a training coming up for that at the end of October, so we’re looking for volunteers for that. Ideally, that’s actually someone who has a chronic condition themselves. We provide all the training, so if you just have a heart to help people, then we can find a home for you, so. And we’re starting a new program, hopefully in January, when we roll out we’ll be providing free volunteer transportation and also do a friendly visiting program, where it would be like a one to two-hour companionship visit for seniors – primarily for seniors – or with disabilities that are isolated and not able to get out of their homes. So we’re actively looking for volunteers for that as well.

Q: And so you have quite a few events coming up in the next six months – six months at least – six months to a year? So tell us about the events that are coming right up and maybe one or two that are coming up in the future.

A: Sure. So, I guess, the event coming up the soonest is our Taste of the Town, which is October 26, and that’s our annual I call it the ‘Taste of the Town feast’. So we’ve been doing it for 17 years. And it’s about 30 different restaurants that come – so it’s a great chance to try all the local restaurants. And then in early December we’ll have our Holiday Open House, where we’ll have some local vendors, and you can do a little early Christmas shopping, and we’ll be doing a ribbon cutting with the Prince William Chamber at that event. And then we’ve got some other exciting things in the works for next year.

Check back for the next episode of Community Conversations.

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