#oh my godddd bro. how can you write so like eloquently im like losing my mind

[two-crows]

oh my lord... going to leave my rambling below hELP

Ring of Fire - 3

THIS HAS BEEN MY FAVORITE CHAPTER TO WRITE SO FAR.

cw for lots of blood and violence...

Synopsis:

Will Birdperson be okay after the pair's confrontation with a Federation officer, or will there be two casualties heavy over the desert tonight?

How can Rick explain his actions after taking away his friend's only chance at finding the group responsible for massacring his people?

-2337 words

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Blood drenched the both of them. 

Wings- powerful and expansive- smeared blood along Rick’s face as the bottom edge of the appendages rested along his forearms, his hands a wiry cage beneath his counterpart’s biceps. 

It wasn’t exactly the best way to lay low, either. Music hushed and Warekins turned their necks at unnatural angles beneath their hoods as the men passed- their unsettling four-eyed stares wide and crackling with curiosity. 

Rick simply dragged his companion along the desert floor, ignoring the haunting murmurings that trailed along their heels. 

Red dust skittered in thin blankets around them, sparkling pink in the dimming rays of the sun, and eventually cooling to a muted dance of lavender. As the grueling star settled itself behind the mountains, he was able to haul BP up by his shoulders onto one of their equore at the edge of town. 

Rick was anxious. 

Not in the way he had been earlier- at being surrounded by the essence of his friend; at the prospect of dying himself. He was anxious now, because he knew there was a possibility that Birdperson could die and he could… 

Live. 

The ride back to their camp was eerily quiet- an occasional rattling breath or pained moan from the body slumped onto his own back the only sound daring to pierce through the fog of fading music. Rick could feel himself caving in, slipping one hand at an awkward angle in behind his back to rest against BP’s chest. 

The steady rhythm of his heart against Rick’s hand was the only thing that kept his mind clear enough to ride as he led the other willowy creature behind them. 

Finally, they neared that smokey aura of withering embers, and Rick knew he didn’t have much time before the Federation officers caught wind of their sighting. 

Quickly. He had to move quickly. 

His heartbeat thundered in his ears- hot and burdensome- as he lugged Birdperson unceremoniously from the back of the equore; his dark hat falling to the ground. 

Rick was shaking, and he wasn’t sure how he did it- or why. 

He knew nothing mattered.

He knew the man beneath him didn’t matter. 

But… He did. 

That was just the fucking problem, wasn’t it? Why he was here? 

He yanked each of their bandannas down to cradle their necks.

The night was solid and all-encompassing as it swallowed him, and Rick tried to ignore the chill of his partner’s skin beneath his unsteady touch as he ripped his counterpart’s clothes off- little grunts and sighs of agony lulling BP’s head to one side, sputtering out over the sand. Rick attempted fruitlessly to discern where the blood was coming from. 

God. 

God, there was so much of it. 

Everywhere. 

Coating everything. 

All of the times Rick had imagined Birdperson bubbling over and spilling onto him had never been quite as grotesque as this. 

Never so scary and foreign. 

Never swathed in such dread. 

Rick’s calloused fingers scratched over every inch of Birdperson’s torso- balmy and smothering- but he found no injury. 

He ran his hands along the soft plume lining the other man’s wings. Pinching, probing, prodding. Now stained crimson. 

Rick couldn’t feel anything but the burning in his throat. Bile threatened to rise up out of him, but he tamped it down. His nose smoldered with every effort to inhale, and he bit his lip so hard he could taste the metallic twang of his own blood coating his encumbrance of a tongue. 

Rick almost didn’t notice when BP’s eyes fluttered open, flashing with dismayed recognition. 

“Rick?” the other man croaked feebly, his voice trembling but stern. 

The relief that flooded over Rick was nearly palpable- tangible in a way that he could’ve sworn he could reach out and touch- as it propped up the thick coating of night air around them, giving him room to gasp. 

“Pers,” Rick said, tears of temporary respite stinging his eyes. “I—I need you to tell me where it hurts.” 

His voice was begging, caressing the man below him more than he had just been a moment before. He placed one tarnished hand flat on his friend’s chest, but something dark flickered over Birdperson’s features. Rick flinched. 

“Why?” BP snarled, his head lunging upward with a surprising amount of strength. 

The shock sent Rick toppling back a bit, his hat falling to the ground to rest near its ebony complement. 

Catching himself on his palms, Rick tried to push himself back up, reaching out towards a now-rising Birdperson. 

The more lean of the two settled onto his knees as his friend loomed overhead. 

It was dark, now. 

Too dark. 

“D—Don’t!” Rick cried weakly, something dry and caustic running faint cuts down the center of his throat. He splayed trembling hands onto Birdperson’s knees, the warmth of the other man’s skin seeping into his blood-soaked palms, and looked up at him through pleading lashes. “You’ll make it worse. Le—Let me fix this-“ 

The stare he met was bitter and cold- the moonlight only illuminating enough of his ally’s face to show the pointed blades of rage that roiled beneath his marble exterior. 

He looked wan and sickly, blood streaking and splattering every part of him- some of it now dried and cakey. 

The air was poignant with an eerie glistening sickness as Birdperson’s gruff voice cut Rick short. 

“You can never fix this.”

Rick blinked- tears of something the very antithesis of relief now threatening to claw past his reserve. He couldn’t figure out where this sudden ferocity had come from within a man he’d just dragged back here. 

He gripped BP’s knees tighter. If he could only…

“No. I—I know, but—“ 

Birdperson kicked Rick off of him, disgust twisting his features as he stepped backwards. His hands were up, and the look in his eye was like…

Like he didn’t even know the man knelt before him. 

Rick fell forward in a minute eclipse of sand. 

“No, you don’t.” There was nothing kind- no warm inflection- behind his best friend’s words, and Rick forced himself to stand, smoothing his wild mess of hair shakily. “You don’t know. You’ll never know. He was the only way I could—“ 

Birdperson’s voice wavered, and Rick buried the heels of his boots into the dirt to keep himself from extending a touch to comfort him. 

An audible swallow. 

BP continued.

“The only way I could— I could find them… The only way I could get justice for my people!” His voice was quiet at first, but slowly built into a serrated roar. 

Rick bit back another flinch, balling fists at his sides. 

“I know-“ he tried in a muted gurgle, but his partner was quick to snap back. 

“STOP SAYING THAT!” BP boomed, his voice a crackling missile flying overhead. This time, Rick flinched. “You don’t know. You’re… You’re a liar.” He stalked forward slowly, not unlike Rick had seen him do just hours earlier towards the Gromflomite, and Rick fought the urge to cower in his presence. One wing- where the injury must have been-hung limply at Birdperson’s side as it morosed along the earth. “You said you had no one. You have a daughter.” 

His friend’s tone was now dark and sinister, snaking its way through the night air like the wind commandeers which direction the seeds fall in the spring. 

Only this pushed Rick back. 

Rick’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Y—You don’t understand,” Rick beseeched, searching for any sign of recognition on his companion’s face. There was none. “It’s not like th—“ 

The impact of Birdperson’s fist with Rick’s jaw reeled his head to the left, his narrow mess of limbs following him in a clumsy-like blunder. 

Rick fell forward slightly, hissing through his teeth and only receiving a moment to bring his fingers to his lips. They pulled away a glistening trail of spit-sullied scarlet, and he’d barely looked up again- his heart caving in on itself- as the second blow threw him back. 

This one twisted his nose at an unnatural angle, blood seeping down his face, and he couldn’t even find it in him to fight. 

Falling to his knees, he cried out- only to be met with the compact force of his friend’s rough leather boot. 

A kiss between lover and friend. 

In another life, he would have done it willingly- gently- as an act of tender devotion, but here and now, it was all Rick could do to not keel over and wash his feet with his hair as blows rained down upon him. 

He wasn’t sure how long he let his friend land blow after blow to his contorted frame- how many minutes, or hours, or years he must have spent writhing in the dust and debris- but, finally… it stopped. 

Rick sucked in a tortuous breath- his ribs aching- and fumbled for the cause of the sudden interlude. 

Why his friend had stopped. 

He’d deserved it. 

Looking up through swollen eyes, he saw the contents of his wallet had scattered along the ground. 

Dozens of polaroid photos littered the floor of the campsite, and Rick nearly jumped out of his skin, wincing and grabbing his ribs, as he attempted to shakily collect them. 

There were photos of Birdperson sleeping in the orange cast of firelight, aliens milling about in hoards, colorful rays of starlight, twists of neon space time, but not-

Panic overtook him. 

If he’d— If he’d lost it—

Then he noticed what BP studied: 

A polaroid photo perched between the bloodied knuckles of his left glove as he crouched low to the ground, a few paces from Rick’s heaving desperation. 

Rick’s heart sank. 

The pause before either of them spoke was deep and thick- concentrated. 

Finally, Rick broke the silence. His voice shook, and the tears that cascaded down his battered cheeks were nothing more than salt in his wounds. 

“I… I had a daughter…” he choked, reaching out and snatching the photo back. He shoved it into his wallet, half expecting another jab or kick, but… 

Nothing. 

“How did…” his friend whispered softly, not moving or daring to meet Rick’s gaze. “Did they take her, too?”

“No.” Rick said flatly, his tongue too burdensome of a thing to bother chastising. “The- uhhh… The guy who— who killed them… He’s not… I couldn’t find him if I tried.”

“How did he know?” 

“I dunno.” Rick shrugged earnestly. “I’m the most wanted man in the galaxy, s—so… I guess it was only a matter of time before the, uhh… before the Feds found out.” 

It had been long enough that Rick could dismiss the fears of Federation agents trailing them as a frantic thought blossomed from his panic. 

He crawled a few paces towards his friend, placing one hand on his shoulder. It mirrored their position earlier- behind the crates; before this shitshow- perfectly. 

Only now they were broken. 

Maybe they already had been.

“Can I?” Rick begged faintly, and Birdperson gave a tight nod. 

Rick worked quickly, stumbling over to his bag at the edge of camp and retrieving a first-aid kit. 

How foolish of him to leave the healing rays on the pocket ship. 

His hands were anything but stoic as he mended what he could of the hole in his friend���s wing. Both of the men cried silently, and neither of them spoke. 

Rick’s heart ricocheted each time his hand brushed the bare sides of Birdperson’s corded abdomen- soft against the bristle of his touch- and he chastised himself for not being able to shake the thought of closing the distance between them in an embrace. 

Instead, when he was done and BP’s wing was bandaged, he settled for placing his shaking hand over the other man’s where it lay pliant and weak in the dirt. 

To his surprise, Birdperson didn’t shrink back; or flinch; or punch him again. He flipped his hand over and… squeezed.

A hard, grounding grip. 

Suddenly, the air didn’t seem so heavy anymore, and the men leaned back- as if in some unspoken flurry of intimate connection- and lay on the ground together, side by side. 

They both perused the stars above them, hand in hand, and Rick wondered how many of those stars were just tricks of the light. How many of them were dead; eons away. 

In a lot of ways, maybe both men had flickered out ages ago, too. Maybe they’d gone supernova long before now- just recently dying out here. 

Their persistence finally dithering in that gradual drought that ate all rivers. 

Even as all of that waned, Rick couldn’t help but think that something flowed within them now. If not between the men and their pasts, perhaps between the men and their futures. 

Between one another- and Rick believed that tide pulled Birdperson, too. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt… human,” Rick said, indicating what he meant by giving the hand within his own a brief compression. 

“I’m not human,” BP laughed mutely. “I don’t think that has anything to do with it.” He returned the squeeze. 

“I’m sorry,” Rick let out in a husky mewl. 

“I know. We won’t give up.” Birdperson’s tone was sorrowful but genuine. Another breath passed before he shook off the words, welcoming new ones. “Do you like it out here? On the run?” 

Rick thought for a moment.

“I don’t think about me,” he settled on. “Don’t think anyone does.” 

“Who said I don’t?” The whisper was anything but silent, and Rick’s heart cleaved itself back to life beneath his raw rib cage. 

They lay there for a while, Rick almost nodding off, until Birdperson extended a finger towards the sky. 

“A shooting star,” he breathed, a lazy smile stretched over his face. “Beautiful, don’t you think?” 

It was, but the starlight Rick sought when he agreed wasn’t in the sky above them- but in the pair of eyes next to him. 

He was mangled and bloody and broken, but so was Rick. “…Yeah, man… Breathtaking.”

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