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pickledpascal · 2 months ago

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Hold Me Like Water

Chapter One: The Best of the World in the Palm of Our Hands

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2k

Hold Me Like Water Masterlist

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May 2013,

Being on a set for one of the X-Men films was not what Maya envisioned when she became an actress. It was the first big-budget movie she had ever been a part of and she assumed it would be the only, if she was honest.

The director wanted a local unknown for a character he had the writers make up for the film: a Native American mutant with water abilities. Maya thought she’d give it a shot since she only lived a province away in Nunavut and the production was focused in Quebec. She never imagined she’d get the job.

Or that they’d let her sister be a part of it too.

Maya was sitting in a chair in the middle of the makeup trailer, hands in her lap as her younger sister, Sakari, was using a Q-tip to wipe off the excess makeup covering her facial tattoos.

“I can’t believe they got your shade wrong,” Sakari huffed, glancing at a few of the other makeup artists in the trailer. Both of them were white. “They made you yellow. And then your Kakiniit was horribly treated too. Unforgivable.”

Maya chuckled. Her sister had the rage of any young person, outspoken about any little thing that could be considered insensitive. Sometimes genuinely. Sometimes to take the piss out on people. Maya could not relate though they were only four years apart. She was twenty-three while Sakari was eighteen, her birthday was in October.

Maya was usually a very calm person so it was nice to have someone like Sakari to fight for her.

She was ushered onto the set after she was done with makeup, with Sakari following behind her. Maya looked around like a fish out of water because she was. The set was busy with activity, all sorts of people passed in all different directions. It was a far cry from the calm, sometimes one-person crews she was used to working with back in Nunavut.

“Hey!” Exclaimed an accented voice. Maya turned to see Hugh Jackman coming up to them. Right, she was supposed to act alongside him for a lot of the film. He had his signature Wolverine hairstyle and mutton chops. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He beamed, offering a hand for her to shake.

“You have?” Maya’s heart fluttered as she shook his hand firmly. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous now. Maybe it was the fact that he greeted her so warmly or that people talked about her. Positively, she assumed.

Hugh looked at her like she was insane for a moment. “Of course, Singer loved your audition. Couldn’t stop talking about how perfect you were for the part.” He grinned and then looked at Sakari. “And who might you be?”

Sakari glanced at Maya, telepathically telling her older sister that she would try her best to be civil. She mustered up a smile. “I’m her sister. And makeup artist since forever.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Hugh’s face brightened before his eyes focused on Maya’s face to admire Sakari’s work. “Are those markings a part of the makeup?” He wondered aloud.

Maya cut off Sakari before she could speak. “No, uh, they’re my real tattoos.” She had a feeling something like this would happen so she just wanted to speed through it rather than make a big deal about it.

Hugh was a goddamn Australian. She couldn’t imagine, out of everyone on set, that he would have met an Inuit before her. Let alone one with facial markings like hers. She was expecting comments about how it was weird to have tattoos on her face, she got that a lot when she was simply at the grocery store picking up specialty items in Montreal for her mother.

Instead, he stared like he wanted to touch her face and admire the lines up close. “They’re quite beautiful.” He mused.

Maya wasn’t sure what to say to that. And, for the first time in a while, Sakari felt the same way. Even the tamest reaction to their Kakiniit was filled with a bit of underlying disgust. Why would they “ruin” their faces? Of course these reactions were usually from white people.

The conversation was interrupted by the first assistant director telling them to get to their marks.

Acting for Maya always came easy. She was never classically trained but she had been in quite a few small-budget films up to this point so she knew how to embody a character. Especially a character that was so similar to herself.

Since her audition, many changes have been made to her character. Rather than being ambiguously Native American, they changed it to an Inuit character to fit Maya better. They liked her tattoos and thought it seemed cool to have the markings on a mutant. Singer probably thought it looked exotic but Maya wasn’t going to complain. Sakari could do that for her.

After filming ended for the day, Maya made it back to her trailer with Sakari. Maya’s makeup was taken off and she was scrolling through her email on her computer while her sister was judging the wardrobe for the next day.

Sakari pursed her lips as she grabbed a pair of bell bottoms from the rack. “None of these pieces are period accurate. And these tops do not match your skin tone.” She put the pants back on the rack and took out her phone. “I think Mom had some stuff from the seventies, we should see what fits you.”

Maya looked up over the top of her laptop. “Mom is your height.” She raised an eyebrow. “Shorter, even.”

Maya was six-foot-one. Taller than the average woman, let alone an Inuit woman. Her father was tall but shorter than her by a few inches. Her family liked to make jokes about her height since she was the tallest—some genetic miracle or gift from the Heavens.

“True,” Sakari shrugged, “But I can work with them. You know I’m great with a needle and thread.”

Maya shook her head and let out a soft chuckle, returning to her email. Her agent and one of her best friends, Arlo, was sending her email after email asking about how work was.

Then there was a knock on the trailer door. Maya glanced at her phone for the time. It was evening but it wasn’t late. “Who is it?” She asked, raising her voice so the person on the other side could hear.

“It’s Hugh!” He responded.

Sakari and Maya shared a look. “It’s open!” The older sister said.

The door opened revealing Hugh. He shut the door behind him as he entered. He was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans. It looked a little funny seeing him in such normal clothes with those mutton chops and that hair.

“I just wanted to say you did amazing work today, Maya.” He said warmly. She could tell he actually meant it and that made her heart flip again.

She stood up from the couch, setting her laptop off to the side. “Thank you,” She said bashfully, “It’s not hard to act when they reworked the character to be closer to myself.”

“Still.” Hugh urged with a kind smile. “I almost believed you could control water.” He teased, lowering his voice as if he was telling a secret.

It wouldn’t have been the first time Maya had played a character that could bend water. Or some variation of herself that could. But Hugh probably wouldn’t know what she was talking about. She simply nodded and smiled in response.

Hugh clasped his hands together, “The cast wants to go out for drinks tonight—the younger cast, at least. Would you like to come with?” He looked from Maya to Sakari. The invitation was for both of them.

“Drinks with James McAvoy? Count me in.” Sakari grinned, wrapping an arm around Maya’s shoulder, ultimately making her lean down to her height.

“I don’t think she’ll give me a choice.” Maya told Hugh, nudging her sister’s side with her elbow. “We’ll go.” She nodded.

“Great!” He exclaimed.

Hugh then exchanged numbers with Maya and Sakari so he could text them the place they were meeting at. It wasn’t too far from set so it wouldn’t take too long to get there. They could probably walk if they felt like it. Maya and Sakari weren’t famous so it wasn’t like anyone would be stopping them.

When Hugh left, Sakari turned to Maya and shook her head. A disbelieving look was on her face. “I can’t believe you’re being normal. Didn’t you have a crush on him when he was in the first three movies?”

“When I was ten.” Maya stared blankly at Sakari. “Plus, he’s my co-worker now. And married. Having a crush on him would be weird.”

She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Sakari of that or herself. Hugh was an attractive man. Anyone with eyes could see that. Maya just couldn’t stand the thought of possibly revitalizing her crush, she would feel guilty even if she decided not to do anything about it.

At the bar, a lot of the “past” cast was drinking shots, cocktails, and just about anything they could get their hands on. Sakari immediately left Maya’s side to try and chat up James and Michael.

So Maya decided to get a Manhattan and found a booth in the corner of the bar where it was quieter. She wasn’t much of a partier, even in college. But it was fun to watch people make decisions they’d regret the next morning.

“May I sit with you?” Hugh asked with a cocktail glass in hand.

Maya looked up at him and nodded. “Oh. Sure.” She sipped from her glass.

He sat across from her, setting his forearms on the table. He mirrored her, eyes trailing over her body to read if she was uncomfortable or not. “What did you do before this?” He asked softly.

“A lot of different things. Mostly small-budget Indie films. Nowhere near this big and grand.” Maya explained with a shy smile.

She couldn’t believe she was talking to Hugh Jackman about her career. Especially since he had such an intriguing, varied filmography. The X-Men saga was just one of many. The Prestige, Kate & Leopold, and—goddamn—Prisoners was about to come out but she was sure it would be amazing if the trailers were anything to go by. She admired him for his acting, too, not just his looks.

“What are they usually about?” He seemed very interested in her.

Maya licked her lips, suddenly feeling put on the spot. “A lot of them were horror.” That made him raise his eyebrows in surprise. “But there were also some that were just kind of slice-of-life for an Inuit in Nunavut.”

“Right.” Hugh grinned, “I may have to find these films. Do my research on you.” He teased.

Maya didn’t want to imagine Hugh watching her on TV getting her leg chopped off or mauled by a polar bear.

“What made you take this job?” His eyes focused on her face as if he was properly taking in the markings again.

Maya played with the edge of the napkin underneath her glass. “My friend sent me the casting call information. It was pretty vague on what it was for, so I decided to give it a shot, not really thinking much of it.” She chuckled. Her lips quirked up into a small smile.

“That’s how I got my first TV show. I did the audition not thinking I’d get it so I was fairly relaxed.” He chuckled. “It’s always the thing you don’t expect, isn’t it?”

She stared at Hugh for a second before her eyes flickered down to her half-full glass. Her smile widened. “I guess so.”

#oc #transgender #hugh jackman wolverine #native american oc #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x oc #hugh jackman fanfic #logan howlett xmen #xmen #logan howlett #days of future past #james mcavoy #original character #inuit oc

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moeitsu · 10 months ago

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and disturbing imagery. If you do not like depictions of war and torture please proceed with caution. I did heavy research for this chapter, but please know it is entirely FICTIONAL. The characters are not real, but the events are based on real American history. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low

1890

I knew I was going to die.

If the arrow in my side does not take me, then the man who rides the horse I lay across surely will.

I felt no pain. Perhaps it was the fever of the fight. But it didn’t hurt. I thought of screaming and thrashing, but I thought better of it. As my father would say, ‘The one good thing about problems, is they’ll still be problems later. Don’t need to deal with them right away.’

Either way, I was still going to die.

If only my father had taught me how to survive the frontier. I know now that you must learn to recognize those who won’t survive, and be wary of their doomed decisions. They are to be avoided at all costs. Because their fear is tragedy’s closest cousin. And tragedy is contagious in this place.

My mind was snuffed by a white blanket of fear, but somehow I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. But God had already abandoned me, perhaps he never loved me at all. My life had been an endless cycle of taking, why would it stop taking now.

I had no idea where the man was taking me. I did not speak his language. I had heard stories about the wars between the Indians and Englishman. But I did not have a way to tell them I’m not a part of it, but I knew somehow if I could it would not matter. War will turn men into predators, and women into prey.

Only days ago I felt like I was drowning under a waterfall, but now I see this is the real river of death.

The adrenaline had begun to leak out of my body along with the blood from the arrow. I watched in a blurred haze as the droplets disappeared into the ground as the horse took us swiftly through the dark forests. The pain began creeping in along with the darkness as I blacked out.

When I woke I found myself laying on the dirt of a fort, the sound of Englishmen talking with the Indians brought me out of my haze. I thought I had been saved, I wanted to yell and scream for help. But the conversation did not sound pleasant, I could barely make out the figure of a man who must be a general and another who must have been the chief. To my surprise, I saw a young Indian woman standing behind the general, her wrists bound. She looked my age, but deathly beaten and ill. My throat closed in.

The chief's voice rose in anger and I watched him point at me, then at the woman. After a moment the general waved his hands, and the girl was unbound and brought to the chief, he swiftly lifted and cradled her. I knew then it was his daughter. At the same time one of the general's men came walking in my direction and I realized I wasn’t being rescued, but traded. One woman for another, and eye for an eye.

I thought death was better than being a prisoner, as my mind raced with panic. I almost begged the Indians to turn back and kill me.

There must be a heaven, because that night I knew I had entered the gates of hell. Crawling on my hands and knees into the belly of the beast as he took me in his bed. Night after endless night.

My days had turned into nights, and I no longer saw the point in living. Like my eyes had become devoid of color, and the world turned black and gray. Instead of praying to be rescued, I prayed my injury would kill me.

There were other prisoners in the fort, mostly Lakota men. I bore no hatred for their people, but entirely my own. Their greed so suffocating they took the daughter of the chief, an innocent girl who had no part in their war. And turned her into a shell of herself. All in the name of greed. It was always greed.

I thought my life couldn’t have any more surprises for me, that it must end here. But my life was about to change yet again.

I noticed one of the other prisoners began watching me, then leaving behind extra food and water for me. After a few days, he approached me.

“What is your name?” he asked, his accent thick. Like my language did not fit right in his mouth. Unlike his own.

“Kate,” I answered. Surprised to hear my own voice after days of torture, “what’s yours?”

“Egwani,” he said, “or in your language little river. That wound in your belly is going to get infected.” River nodded at the small purple wound on my stomach . The general's men had cauterized it, but my body had been rising with a fever for the past two days.

“It’s already infected.” And I hoped it would kill me quickly.

River shook his head, “I can help you.”

“Why would you help me?” Not that there was any hope for me anyways. Even if he stopped the infection, I was still stuck in this hell.��

“That woman the white man traded you for, she is my wife.”

A chill ran down my spine. I did not want to think about what they did to her infront of him.

“You gave your life to save hers. So I will save yours.” He said sincerely. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but still. If one woman came out of this alive, then I guess my death would have some meaning to it.

“Even if you stop the infection, these men will kill me. There’s nothing you can do, I’m going to die here.” My voice betrays my thoughts. Desperation creeping its way into the cracks. Inside I wanted the pain to end, I wanted my suffering to cease. But I was still terrified, beneath it all I longed to return home. Pretend none of it happened. Return to my old life with my family. But that version of me no longer exists.

River chuckled softly.

“Is something funny?” The last thing I needed was to be shown kindness and then mocked. Like the general’s men had not degraded me enough.

“You are stubborn like the Amicalola,” he smiled. Why was he smiling? Had he not suffered just as much as I had? He must have seen his wife beaten nearly within an inch of her life, and he could do nothing, yet he was smiling at me now.

The pain in my body made my words come out bitter and sharp, “I don’t know what that means.”

“My people’s word for waterfall. You are strong like one too. It is a good name.”

I scoffed, how incredibly wrong he was.

“I’m not,” I stated with a groan. My head throbbed from the fever and my body was cold from the chills as the infection raged through my insides.

“I can give you medicine. And when my people return in a few weeks, I will escape and take you with me.” He explained.

“I think I’d rather you just kill me now,” I said, closing my eyes. The world around me was spinning in a dark haze, gravity pulling my body down with my thoughts.

“You could have killed yourself days ago,” River began, “you could have taken a rope to your throat, or a knife to your heart. But you did not,” I opened my eyes again and looked at him, “that is how I know you are strong. Your will to live is burning through you right now with a fever.”

My eyes filled with tears, and my throat suddenly felt thick. For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart began to fill with hope. River closed the gap between us and placed a gentle palm on my forehead, feeling the heat of my skin.

“I have watched you turn towards the pain as it tears into you. I have seen the way you survive, these men think they have taken everything from you. But you have not let them devour your soul.”

“I could do nothing to stop them,” I croaked. Hot tears spilling down my cheeks like water through a dry creek bed.

“Sometimes, there is strength in surrendering. But you have surrendered nothing to the pain. I see your tears, but you do not weep,” he brushed a thumb over my wet face, “you are a warrior.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

True to his word, River’s men showed up exactly two weeks later. But before that, he had given me a salve mixed from honey and sage and rubbed it over my arrow wound, as well as the numerous others I had accumulated in my time here. He also gave me an herbal tea for the infection, and by some miracle it was working. Each day I felt my strength returning to me.

River took beatings for me, when I could not walk or do chores. Or simply when the men felt like taking their frustrations out on another human being. And I felt incredibly guilty for it. But he always assured me that I needed to save my strength for the real fight, when his people came. Yet nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold.

They came under the cover of night, and used the forest and mountains to their advantage. They brought the fire, as the fort was made entirely out of wood and before long it became a fiery prison from hell. I knew our escape would not be easy, even with the help of Rivers' men. I had my strength back, but no knowledge of how to actually fight. I was lucky enough to escape with just a burn on my calf.

It had been a bloody massacre, and the men fought savagely. The Lakota people came with arrows and tomahawks and spears, and I watched as they made the men of the fort suffer. It brought a sickening joy to my heart, to see the men who had raped me have their skulls crushed and insides ripped apart. It felt like justice.

We lost people on our side, too many. None of the other prisoners had made it out alive. And I grieved for the other girls of the camp who did not make it like I had, it felt unfair. But we managed to escape. After hours of blazing rage, River swiftly lifted me onto the back of a horse, and together we rode far away from the fort. Only a few of his people escaped alongside us, as we left behind their final resting place. The numbing shock of war is behind me now, and hope has taken its place.

His men had informed us that his tribe had moved to the bottom of the Tennessee river, to escape the constant attacks and find refuge further west. So that is where our journey took us. As if life had still granted me the irony of continuing west, despite all the horrors I had faced to get there.

It took us nearly three months. We traveled through the Appalachian trails and the journey was not easy. We lived rough, and we lived hard. I felt like a burden most days, as I knew I was slowing down their journey. I was still not entirely healed, and some days I felt I did not have the strength to travel at all. But River was patient, and never made me feel like it was my fault.

He taught me how to hunt, how to fish, and how to set traps and skin animals. He even taught me some of his language, but most importantly he taught me how to survive.

“When we kill an animal we must use all parts of it, to honor it. These creatures are innocent, and when we kill an innocent we become a little less of a man, and a little more of an animal.” He told me as he demonstrated how to properly skin a rabbit.

Death is something we share with all creatures; rabbits, birds, horses and trees. It's everywhere, and eventually it will take everyone. Just as it had taken everyone who had loved me. Even as the stars die, we cannot run from it.

Despite his people running from war, they could not escape death either. We arrived at River’s tribal camp, along the bank of the Tennessee river, and it had been reduced to ash. We were too late, or perhaps we were lucky, this could have been our fate too. River, and the men who came to rescue us, were the last of his people. I saw something dark enter him that day, as he held the charred bones of his wife and child. The woman whom I gave my life for, all for nought. As I stood there, living and breathing, and she did not. Their entire family history, wiped clean from the earth.

His rage became the oil to my flame, I felt his anger mix with my own deep in my soul. All this death we had endured. Intertwined our fates like loops on a chain that bound us like shackles. But it was our grief that kept us on a tight leash. River sought revenge and justice, while I yearned to take from the world what it had taken from me. Together, we would instill fear into the heart of every man who crossed the land.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate McCanon died the day I met River. What stood before him now was the Amicalola, the waterfall. I became a woman unrecognizable.

Like many rivers, their journeys start with quiet beginnings, but as they are nourished by the waters of experience, they gather strength, flowing swiftly and deeply towards their desired path. If you follow their course and witness where they converge — they become a creature of beauty as well as fury. I became the waterfall: untamed and unbridled, sweeping away all in my path with wild abandon.

River made me into a warrior, and with each life I took, the world felt my turmoil. Anger guided my blade, for the world had stolen my family—my husband, and my daughter. It robbed me of myself, leaving me with nothing to lose.

“Our purpose is to ensure our enemies' fear is greater than their greed,” he told me. We hunted poachers, bandits, and thieves. But his rage was never satisfied.

He taught me how to kill, how to torture. How to fight with weapons capable of horrific fatalities. And I welcomed it with open arms. We fought and killed together for several years before I would begin to lose myself to the bloodshed.

We were hunting a group of poachers, when we came upon what we believed to be their camp. River was the first to drag a man from his tent, a knife already in his side. He would ask questions, and then kill him slowly. His fate sealed the moment we found their tracks. The man claimed to know nothing, but we were not convinced. And it wouldn't matter anyways, we would kill everyone in the camp. Just for the sake of it.

“What you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.” River spoke in his native tongue as he slit the man's throat. Sickeningly slow. He would choke to death in his own blood.

A sound came from the man's tent and a figure emerged, I drew my bow, ready to release it as they stepped out. The moment a child appeared, I wished then that I had the strength to kill myself back at the fort. I had turned into a monster.

My heart was in my stomach as a little girl cried for her father. What have I done? I had almost killed a child. And we just killed her father, I realized we had been at the wrong camp. And I had just doomed a mother to be a widow, and a childhood to be ruined. I might as well have handed my fate over to them.

River stood before me, his face shadowed and his eyes vacant. The man who once filled my heart with hope now dwelled in darkness himself. At that moment, I knew I had to leave. I could no longer fight alongside him; our path led to a place from which I could not return. Like Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, yet born under the light of Spring, I too would journey down the river Styx.

He did not resist my departure. River assured me I would always be welcomed among his people, and if I desired, he would take me as his wife. For years, River had been my strength, and I his, but now I was leaving him—to salvage what little I had left of myself.

After calming the child, I made a solemn vow to reunite her with her mother. This marked the beginning of my journey to break the cycle, and seek redemption for what I had done. It would also mark the end of my journey as a warrior. As we parted ways, he whispered a message into the wind. I could not tell if it was a goodbye, or a promise, or a warning. In his tongue he told me “follow the rivers, and they will take you to the waterfall.”

~~~

AN: I seriously appreciate all the love you guys are showing for this story. It motivates me to write more, and I'm truly having so much fun with it. Thank you! <3

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