#sorry for the long post (though I suppose tumbles will crop it anyway)!

[kwillow]

i HAVE to know how you went about designing the heraldic devices on the flags in the sculpture chocodile just shared. Do the symbols have meaning?

Hell yeah, here comes the flood! This will be a bit of a rambly crash-course in my likely slightly inaccurate remembering of heraldic facts (and largely focused on English heraldic rules, as that is what most online resources focus on), so bear with me, haha.

Also going to try my hand at writing blazons for them, just for practice. :P

So, for me, the challenge in designing something like this is that I wanted to designs to be evocative of the character themself, but coat of arms are also passed down from the ancestor that was originally granted it through the family line, so they should also represent the character's family as a whole.

Sable, in chief an estoile gules, in fess an open hand argent between two estoiles of the second.

Hyden comes from an ambitious magical family, so I wanted something that alluded to both the concepts of "mystical" and "evil." Red and black is a bit of a cliché way to do it, but it's effective, no?

Hyden also has a star motif in his family; Hyden's first name, Arcturus, is the name of a star! Stars are also something that seem pretty mystical, right? I wanted to incorporate those in his coat of arms, so on they go.

I went through other charges at first, including a rabbit (self-explanatory) and mountains (Hyden's family comes from a mountainous region), but Chocodile liked the version with the hand best. The hand was meant to represent both the using of magic (often channeled through the hands), and due to the positioning of the stars, appears as though it is reaching up to grab the stars, relating to his (and his family's) ambitious and power-hungry nature.

I also had a version with white stars that followed the rule of tincture properly (short version of the rule of tincture: only white and gold can be put on top of any other color), but Chocodile preferred the version with red stars, so red stars it is! It works, too, because the star Arcturus, which Hyden and many of his ancestors were named after, is a red giant star.

Quarterly; first and fouth, Gules semy of flames Or, a sun Or charged with an eye palewise irised gules and pupiled Or; second and third, Argent semy of roses gules thorned and seeded Or.

No idea if THAT blazon is correct, this one's a bit funky.

Ambroys was a challenge because he comes from two important families, but he's a disappointment not much like either of his parents.

He also has the most complex coat of arms of the bunch because I wanted to have him quartering both his parents arms, since being the descendent of two powerful lineages is important to his character. When a nobleman was descended from two parents who were able to pass down coats of arms, the son could quarter them like this to preserve his mother's arms, which, due to rules of inheritance focusing on male lineage, would otherwise be lost.

The coat of arms featuring roses is the one belonging to his father. Admittedly, I cheated a bit here because I just really wanted roses on Ambroys' heraldic device since I associate them so strongly with him. BUT the area where his father's family comes from is a place known for farmland, natural beauty, and richness. Thus, I thought a field of flowers would suit that rather well.

The other coat of arms belongs to his mother. While she isn't a noble because she's not part of the mortal system, she does have a sigil that represents her (the sun and eye motif), and I figured anyone descended from a Celestial would be so important they'd have a right to arms. Thus, her sigil is incorporated into the coat of arms representing her, in addition to a field of flames and red. His mother was a somewhat warlike, conquering entity, thus a field of blood and the fire she would leave behind felt like an appropriate backdrop for her symbol.

Ordinarily, the father's arms would go in the dexter position (dexter is right on a shield, or our left), as dexter is a place of prominence over sinister (shield's left, our right). However, I decided to put his mother's arms there instead, as she was a Celestial while his father was a mortal, which I imagined would take prominence on the hierarchy scale over the fact that one's his mommy and one's his daddy.

Ermines, on a chief argent, three gouttes de sang.

I had already designed the coat of arms for Theo's family some time ago. Even before I furrified them, I associated his mother and her family with ermines. Ermine fur was used in the cloaks of royalty and nobility since way back, and they live in cold climates. Their association with the elite and coldness, as well as their deceptively vicious predation of animals much larger than they are (including... rats) made them well-suited to be a symbol of Theo's hoity-toity, standoffish, and frankly rather nasty family.

Thus I used ermine fur as the field of the coat of arms. Ermine fur is often used in heraldic devices, for the association with nobility I mentioned before! That's what those weird three-spot things are - a representation of the spots of color on an ermine-fur cloak.

But ermine fur is represented as white with black spots, like the real thing. There is, however, another version of ermine fur sometimes used in heraldry called "counter-ermine" or "ermines," which is black with white spots, like what's going on there!

I used counter-ermine partly just for aesthetics - I wanted to have the drops of blood, and to follow the rules of tincture, needed to put them on white (or gold, but yellow doesn't suit him), and the black fur contrasted with that better.

But there's also another reason. An old medieval myth is that ermines are very vain creatures, who would rather give themselves up to hunters than risk being injured and having blood dirty their pure white coats. A black ermine wouldn't have to worry about that, though. So the black ermine fur represents that they are just as haughty and vain as a regular ermine, but also willing to get their hands (or fur) dirty.

The drops of blood (gouttes de sang) represent both the North's history in that they earned their nobility through war and bloodshed, and also are just very fixated on their bloodline and the concept of family loyalty. The blood drops also tie into the myth about ermines that I mentioned before.

There is also YET MORE BLOOD in the full achievement (a coat of arms that also shows all the other nonsense I labeled here) I designed for them, which incorporates ermines as supporters, but also a heraldic pelican as the crest. The medieval myth behind pelicans was that the mothers would pierce their own skin to feed their offspring their own blood. Very goth, and also tying into family loyalty yet again. You might notice that the motto of the Norths involves blood, again. There's a theme going on here, is what I'm saying.

(also the Latin is wrong in the motto, I seem to mess up the grammar in a new way each time I attempt it, BUT DISREGARD THAT)

I'd like to design full achievements for Hyden and Ambroys as well, some day! But I think that's enough of my babbling for now.

Thanks for reading my essay, I hope you found it at least a bit interesting, haha. xP

[chalabrun]

between the dirt & desperation, ch. 1

Word count: 3,753 Pairings: Symbrock Rating: T Warnings: None Summary:  Sequel to “Angry & Half in Love with You”, it’s been well over a month since Eddie moved away from San Francisco to start over in his hometown of Manhattan. Yet, it’s difficult to return to a normal life when what you were once addicted to becomes addicted to you.  A/N: This is a crossover between Venom (2018) and Sam Raimi’s Spiderman trilogy (2002-07)

( READ ON AO3 )

Cities had moods. They had character, and personalities. It was hard explaining to someone from the suburbs or a small town of 5,000 where everyone knew each other. Eddie had been born in the city of cities, the one that everyone from Helsinki to Beijing and everywhere in between thought of when asked to imagine America, even for the tiniest of moments. Even Americans themselves. Manhattan had a personality so large and old that the entire East Coast looked like it. Like the Big Apple could be any city from Maine to just a stone’s throw above the Bible belt and they wouldn’t be wrong. Not entirely.

New York was steel and teeth. It was craggy concrete that bubbled like rivers of dried and cracked lava through the streets. A raw, industrial creation. When Christ told his disciples to be fishers of men, he wondered if they’d anticipated it’d look anything like this, that the net they threw would bring people together in a new Noah’s ark. Expansive, secretive, old, haggard, but also alive. Old and new. Fast-paced and robust and industrial. It claimed chilly winter nights and congested traffic as its temple, old jazzy film noir and sleepless, caffeinated nights as its sacrifice.

San Francisco had always been different. A bright tendril of Los Angeles, soaked in sun. If the sun made its harbor in Hollywood, then San Francisco was where its rays touched first, but also where its shadows were longest. It didn’t have the steel and shadiness New York did. Or ever would. It felt like your favorite relative you saw on the holidays, of palm fronds and brisk walks on a beach crested by an ocean so brilliant it was bluer than the sky it was supposed to get its color from. Peeled away and without secrets.

Maybe that’s why he never really felt like he’d belonged. Why he finally up and left after the whole Life Foundation incident. And after divorcing himself from the Other, when it finally became apparent how utterly at the mercy he was at the symbiote, they had to part ways. Lest he lose himself on top of all sense of normalcy. Of Anne and Dan and how utterly suited and picture-perfect they were for San Francisco.

It’s why New York’s rough and tumble called him back like a siren, and he just couldn’t refuse.

“Hey, I think ya dropped these.”

The subway emerged from a long and ghastly dark tunnel that made your reflection too easy to see. The back car for the early morning train from Brooklyn was mercifully sparse, all things considering. The man in question had dropped a sheaf of photos the lights blocked its glossy contents of, until it became apparent as to what it was.

Opaque, wide eyes set in a mask made of webbing. Red like blood, like slaughter. Interrupted by a Pacific blue on the chest, crawling up the side of a skyscraper in stunning detail. Eddie became shell-shocked at the sight of it, mind phasing to a rapid negative of the photos. Blinking, it went away.

“Oh, sorry about that. Guess I’m still kind of clumsy in the morning.” The brunet who speaks with wide blue eyes and earnest, smiling thin lips is the picture of someone untouched, but not innocent.

Eddie remembered himself and smiled back. “Yeah, no, no. These are some killer shots, though. You the guy who’s been getting Spidey’s mug in the papers? Man, even I gotta envy that kinda skill.”

The other man chuckled modestly. “My boss tends to differ on that front. He thinks all my stuff is pretty mediocre.”

Eddie’s brows bounced in disbelief, sputtering, “You serious? This shit looks like you got Spidey to pose for you in a SoHo photo studio. And he thinks this is subpar? Man, I wouldn’t wanna be workin’ for him.” Handing the photographer’s material back to him, he added, “Y’know, I do investigative journalin’ myself. Hell, I just got hired on to the Daily Bugle just the other day. We might actually see each other around.”

A boyish and incredulous look crossed the brunet’s face almost shyly. “Wait, seriously? What are the chances of that? —Oh, I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.” He offered his hand to shake. “I’m more freelance, but I guess this makes us coworkers, huh?”

“No kidding. Can’t say I’m adverse to the idea. You photographers are like the muses of us journalists. At least, I think I got that off’a fortune cookie somewhere. You headed to HQ or somethin’?” Smiling crookedly, he shook Peter’s hand a little too enthusiastically. Blame finally getting something resembling a friend on that. “Oh, uh—yeah, Peter. I’m Eddie. Eddie Brock. Real name’s a bit longer, but kinda pointless, y’know?”

Their hands finally released, Eddie backtracking to whether or not he’d shaken it for too long. Clearing his throat, visibly fidgeting, he awkwardly ushered Peter through when they’d finally made it to a mutually apparent destination. “Hey, uh—after you, Pete.”

Peter smiled thinly at that. “Bugle’s this way. It’s not all that hard to miss.” Completely oblivious as to the sudden change in demeanor, Eddie shrugged and alighted on the platform with the other. At least he wasn’t going it alone this time around.

“Will you shut that thing off! If I have to hear one more goddamn word out of that smug Daily Planet’s reporter’s mouth, someone’s going to get fired!”

John Jonah Jameson leaned back in his rickety reclining chair, proudly smoking a thick cigar, a smug and politically incorrect aura bleeding from it. Thick brows raised dubiously as he went through Peter’s crop of photos like an inspector of choice swine at the country market, sticking a knife in the fat to gauge its leanness of the meat. And by the way his cigar hung from his teeth, he didn’t look too impressed.

“This the best you’ve got, Parker? I’ve seen brats on Instagram take better selfies at 3 AM after getting the damn munchies.” Peter himself looked tense, jaw gritting but too subtle to be noticeable or angry. Even Eddie found himself morbidly fascinated by the exchange and feeling vaguely bad for Peter himself.

“It’s the best I’ve got, Mr. Jameson. I got better lighting, and everything,” Peter reasoned, bordering on protesting, splaying his inventory out more. “Like for that one scoop you were talking about. I got this,” he pointed to a photo of the Friendly Neighborhood Spider accelerating up a wall in the wake of a crime scene, “in exactly the kind of context you were looking for and everything.” Incriminating, but falsely planted. Just what sort of deal had they made, anyways?

“It’s crap,” Jameson rebutted bluntly. “You think stories are made from HD screenshots? Nah, I want in-action pictures, Parker. Hell, I think it’s why teaming you up with Brock here will do you some good. You’ve got promise, but I just don’t see it—”

“Sir, your wife she’s—”

“Tell her I’ll call her back! Can’t you see I’m busy?” Jameson barked to his secretary who shrunk back, gazing sidelong as though the employees at desks behind her back were a captive audience. Jerking his head towards Eddie, he quipped gregariously, “What do you say, Brock? You up to heading to Oscorp to interview Doctor Octavius?”

Eddie needed a moment to mull over the name, feeling a pit open in his stomach at the realization. Oh God. Oh no—this was turning into San Fran all over again. Exactly what he’d been trying to escape. Except—Eddie calmed his breathing. It didn’t have to be a repeat. He’d get the interview, get in, get out, and not stick his neck where it didn’t belong like last time. Easy.

“You can count on me, Mr. J. I’ll keep Petey here from takin’ photos that look too good, eh?” As if to prove a point, Eddie circled an arm around Peter’s shoulder and shook it for emphasis, Parker glancing at him in bemusement, brows furrowed.

“Yeah…what he said, Mr. Jameson,” Peter replied stiffly, shrugging Eddie’s arm off and offering him a distantly apologetic look.

Alright, that was something. Only one more head-ducking event to go, and he’d be in the clear!

Several days later of navigating his way through an apartment at various stages of unpacking, and Eddie cobbled together an outfit that seemed decent enough: a button-down dress shirt, crisp black slacks, penny loafers, a dark jacket, and tie. Dressy, but still informed the world that he wasn’t some Washington Post shill. Remembering his past mistake with Carlton Drake seared the reminder not to get involved, not to fuck this up. He did enough time with what happened and paid dearly for it.

Even if he’d turned a new leaf, that didn’t mean he didn’t lie awake thinking about the symbiote. He did. God, he did. It was just the little things, mainly. Buying chocolate and tater tots and wondering why the hell he had. Thinking something and pausing, waiting for a response. It was messing with him, but he had to move on. If Venom was really that hellbent on keeping him, it would’ve. But, it didn’t. He had to remember that and move on. All graceful, and shit.

That didn’t make the memory of their parting any easier. Why did it still come back and bite him in the ass? It had been a month, maybe more. Why did his heart still ache like there was an emptiness to fill?

“C’mon Eddie, get your shit together,” he muttered to himself after stepping off the platform in Midtown Manhattan where the Oscorp tower rose in rivalry to that of Stark Industries’. It was an enviable life, being able to live so richly and without much complication, building an empire off the wit, grit, and ambition that made the American Dream. …Eddie mentally jotted that down. That could make for a good opener in his article.

“There you are. Right where I left you.” Eddie smiled at the sound of Peter’s voice. Sweater vest over some dress shirt and crisp trousers; the glasses made Parker look like a classic point Dexter. Guess that made Eddie the classic rebel to match.

“Yeah, yeah. Least Aunt May spiffed you up pretty good, eh? We ought’a start going; looks like it might start soon, an’ all.”

After their first meeting, they’d met a few times at a bar. First, it was logistics. The sense and sensibility that came with networking that any New Yorker in any industry worth his salt knew how to do. Brock wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far otherwise. Then, it was real friendly talk. Bonding over being born and bred city slickers felt like a homecoming he didn’t ask for, but sorely appreciated. It was nice having friends that didn’t quite stick as much in San Francisco.

“You ready to head on up, or does your hair need more greasing?” Peter teased as they crossed the street in unison. “Could stop at McDonald’s, too.” God, the shit-eating grin. Parker had a real mouth on him when he wanted to. A real potshot when it came to sarcasm and its humor.

“Can it, wise guy. Let me look a little bit smart ‘ere.”

Little more words were exchanged when a familiar professionalism beholden to men in journalism overcame them both almost in tandem, greeted by a front desk secretary who gave them both guest passes specific to the press conference Doctor Octavius was holding in one of Oscorp’s more “public-friendly” labs. Fair enough, even though the investigator in him wanted nothing less than to pass through all restrictions and really see the seedy underbelly. No corporation made it this big without a few body bags along the way.

At the demonstration proper, an enormous curtain separated the small gathering of reporters and journalists like them from the class act behind it. Eddie folded his arms and Peter appeared equally pensive, but a lot less out of place amid shined shoes and news anchor smiles.

“So, this guy, this Otto Octavius—any idea what he’s got cookin’, or we just gonna be surprised?” Eddie turned to Peter to ask who was like a kid in a candy store. He was still in is later college years, far as he knew. Practically a friggin’ baby, which explained a lot. That put a couple years between them. “’Cuz I ain’t really the surprises type.”

“Well, yeah. That’s kinda the whole point, right? Besides, it looks like it’ll start soon.” Peter’s eyes were wide as saucers and totally affixed to the front row. “Let’s get up front. I want a good view of what we might see.”

A flutter of anticipation and nervousness flowered in Eddie’s breast, practically feeling preemptive adrenaline pump through his veins. “…If ya say so, Petey. Guess it can’t hurt.” Why did it feel as though a sense of foreboding hung over them like a cloud? Along with something damnably familiar? Eddie swallowed down a clout of nerves he hadn’t felt before, following it tow as Peter dragged him to the front where no one seemed to mind. The lab’s ampitheater slanted downwards, anyway, so it’s not like they were blocking anything.

Clutching his camera in hand, Peter looked as though he might unleash a barrage of snapshots in his excitement. Which suited him just fine. Not that the camera shutters weren’t going off already like Peter was trying to commit to memory via his camera. Eddie, meanwhile, ticked on the portable recorder he kept on his person at almost all times, checking the small mic clipped on his jacket’s lapel.

And just in the nick of time, too. The lights dimmed substantially from their florescent blaze. Across the stage did a middle-aged and stocky man come unto the podium, smiling in a way that did little to offset the brooding intensity beneath heavy, thick eyebrows. The face of a scientist who grimly saw the failing condition of the world and had many a sleepless night trying to contrive of ways to offset the inevitable flatline. Cartlon Drake had that look, he remembered. This man wore it more intensely, and that much was exceedingly obvious.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we stand upon the brink. We live in a world where we’ve yet to explore the unknown while what we do is on the verge of collapse. And in response to it, it is the burden of those gifted with an aptitude of their calling to answer that call and play their part in saving this planet. The only one of its kind that we know of.”

With all the aegis of someone of his stature, of his eminence as a scientist, it still made Eddie feel wary of him. Even before the crawling sense of déjà vu, it clung to his tongue like gum and stuck there. What he wanted to speak out against before he even knew what it was. Clapping once, the maroon curtain rose and slowly did that sensation return stronger than it had ever before.

He should’ve known something out there was conspiring against him. Before him, in a cylindrical tube, was the symbiote. He could feel a low pulse that hummed softly, knowing exactly what it was doing: subduing the Other. Slowly did Eddie’s arms unfold, completely transfixed, and he had to resist every urge in his body to leap on stage and bash the glass in.

It was in pain.

Dr. Octavius gestured at the tank with a sweeping gesture, a dark humor in his smile. “I present to you the symbiote. Roughly a month ago as I’m sure you are all aware, the Life Foundation discovered these beings on an unsanctioned space flight. In San Francisco, innocent human lives were subjected under the machinations of Carlton Drake to try and bond it and others like it. Inhumane, and completely reprehensible.”

Venom stirred in the tank, almost in a stupor before rousing to life. Familiar, achingly agonized eyes widened in recognition of Eddie and the symbiote began writhing madly in the tank, inky tendrils crawling up its curve in futility, as if trying to escape to get back to him. His heart caught in his throat that throbbed sympathetically, every protective instinct in his body revving to high gear that wanted to spirit it away. As if knowing his thoughts, Venom thrashed in desperation and he swore he could hear it whimper and whine as though it were next to him, panicking once it knew he was here.

“It’s alive. Instead of subjecting this creature to the harms of bonding to a human host, we mean to study it, to replicate its properties without bringing harm to humans. Through this being, this symbiote, we intend upon harnessing its potential as both armor and protection and regeneration to benefit mankind. Think of it: a suit that could heal the infirm and disabled, helping them walk again. Or, sending people armed in this suit to hazardous places to save endangered lives in the wake of disaster. Even going beyond that, at no cost of life.”

While Octavius continued orating, Eddie tried to maintain his composure, but it was difficult with every passing second. His field of vision completely whited out save for his view of the symbiote, how it was practically ready to capsize the container in its desperation with Eddie so near. He hardly heard a word spoken until Octavius mentioned him by name, Peter’s perplexed look matching that dozen who stared at him in unison.

“Mr. Brock, is it? I’ll admit, I was surprised to find you among the list of those who were in attendance, but pleasantly surprised. Please, why don’t you come up here? Maybe you can hold their attention better than I can.” There was a murmur of polite laughter, though there was nothing humorous in the scientist’s eyes. If anything, it looked more like he was sharpening a knife and Eddie was the whetstone.

“Oh—right, yeah, sure thing, Doctor Octavius,” Eddie responded automatically, smile tense as he vaulted on the stage instead of taking the short set of stairs nearby. No one seemed to really mind, despite the formalness of the event. Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, it was a struggle not to keep his eyes wholly trained on the symbiote that loosed a long-pitched whine at their close proximity.

“Now, as many of you may be aware, Mr. Brock was one of two known successful hosts that bonded with one of the symbiotes, notably this one. I’ll admit, I’m quite curious: what was it like, being at the mercy of this fascinating creature?”

Eddie swallowed thickly, Peter’s blue eyes intense upon him that he only surreptitiously met. With every moment under the limelight, he felt his self-control crumbling and a white-hot rush of adrenaline take its place. He was sick. He was so fucking sick and he hadn’t even touched the Other in over a month, their time together having been brief enough as it was. “See, that’s the thing. It’s not really a ‘creature,’ y’know what I’m sayin’? It’s alive. Maybe not our definition of alive, but it thinks, it feels—it knows what it is. Who it is.”

Disguising his adrenalized state as thoughtful pacing, he rounded away from Octavius who watched him hawkishly, conspiratorial murmurs ringing the crowd like mist, like gathering storm clouds. And he could hear it in waves. “Humanity often thinks we’re the only ones out there capable of thinkin’ about our place in the universe, of makin’ bonds so profound that even the sun feels cold to us.” A flash of red along the wall: a fire extinguisher. It looked heavy. Heavy enough.

In the calm before the storm, he placed his hand on the glass, barely aware of the flashing bulbs of the cameras. Venom reacted intensely, that familiar, savage purr as it pressed itself yearningly to the glass, a passion so heavy it weighed like blood. “’s alright. I’m here now, baby. I’ll get ya outta there.” If it could devour the oils from his fingers, the milky clear prints left behind, the lingering heat—it would. Starved, so starved, not even meat could sate that hunger.

“What was it like being its host, Mr. Brock?” one of the reporters prompted, a stern blonde with flinty-ash eyes. “Were there any detriments to your health? You look fine, by looks alone.”

Eddie cleared his throat, coughing into his hand. Octavius’ gaze was like irons on his, having seen it from the sidelong view he had of the tank. Eddie’s own faltered as he pretended to focus exclusively on the crowd, Peter’s enthusiasm faltering. Like he knew about the chaos to unleash.

Posturing to look as though he were preparing to answer the question, he instead bolted for the fire extinguisher and paid no attention to the sudden shock upon the crowd while Octavius’ smug darkness shifted to a frenzied possession. Lunging for the tank, Eddie manfully smashed the glass, taking several tries before there was a fissure enough for Venom to seep through and spring into Eddie’s arms. Despite the whizzing of bullets from the security guards stationed nearby, Venom craned up to lick Eddie’s lips in a semblance of a kiss, wanting to sink into it. To be enveloped and taken by that tar pit he’d feared.

“Eddiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee,” Venom crooned adoringly, wrapping around the blond with aplomb and all the anxiousness of before melting away. A massive black tarp of its nebulous miasma unfurled like crow’s wings around them, the bullets repelled uselessly. It nuzzled into his neck, content to stay there forever.

“Hey, Ven, we gotta get outta here. Y’think you can help me out here?”

A toothsome, wolfish smile of all fangs spanned its black lips, eyes narrowing in a feral cheer. “We’ll protect Eddie. We’ll keep him safe,” came its savage purr, all before the proximity between them closed with a harsh entanglement of mouth and tongue, Eddie forgetting to breathe and almost glad not to. Gradually, the eddies of his vision clouded away to a soothing blackness, one he never thought would’ve been.

And I’ll keep you safe, too—promise.

All he could remember last was rocketing into the very sky, smashing through skylights that rained down like shards of ice and incited a panic, Octavius enraged while the rest scattered. It was to be a state of emergency, sure, but little else mattered now.

All faded to black.

[iwatobi-swim-club-imagines-blog]

Old Fanfiction Post!

Since I have so many old, unfinished fanfics laying around, I figured I’d post one every now and then, and see if anyone’s interested in them. If there’s some attention, I might make a full -length version, so be sure to tell me if something interests you

With that said, here’s the first in this kind of post (series?):

Sitting up on the long-dead electric poles, there was a nest. He thought about pointing it out to his friend, but shrugged it off. A bird nest was nothing unusual on these poles.

It seemed the birds, like their human counterparts, were untroubled by the plague man had brought upon itself.

“Looking at the vultures?” Makoto set his bag down, laying next to his friend.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think they like being up that high? Seems kind of scary to me.”

“Of course.”

“I guess they are birds. They’re pretty impressive, huh? Building such a big nest up that high.”

“They don’t build nests.”

“Huh? But they have a nest up there.”

“They use the abandoned nests from other birds.”

“Huh, well you learn something every day... You wouldn’t happen to know any other world-shattering vulture facts, would you?”

Haru shrugged.

“Do you think that they’re pretty?”

“Beautiful,” Haru muttered, staring up at the mother bird.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about birds anymore?”

“I got the feeling you weren’t.”

“Hey, you don’t have to flatter me. I’m-” Their conversation was interrupted when one of the birds, who had been looking over the edge of the pole, began tumbling to the ground. It held out its fuzzy wings, but they were no use to the chick. Makoto jumped to catch the bird.

Haru heard something crack upon the bird landing in Makoto’s hands, and flinched instinctively. It seemed to have fallen on one of it’s wings.

Why even try to catch something like that? It had fallen so far, it had to be dead.

“It’s okay buddy,” Makoto cooed, sounding too much like a mother bird.

“Makoto, I don’t think that’s...” But when his friend turned around, the bird stared at him, head cocked, beady eyes blinking as if it hadn’t just had a close brush with death.

“How is he still...”

“Alive? It’s a miracle, I guess.”

“Well just leave him here, then. Birds are good parents, I’m sure-”

“Come on! Look at him! Besides, if he broke his wing, what can they do for him?”

“It will heal.”

“But he’s still growing!”

“Look, we have enough to worry about without you having a pet. Leave him.”

Makoto wrapped the bird in his shirt, standing up carefully. “I’m a Vulture, too. I’m not leaving one of my own behind.”

“But...” Haru had to relent at that. It was the first time Makoto had treated his identity as something other than a curse making him a monster.

“Fine. But I don’t want  to have to care for him.” Of course, Haru would be the one gathering the thing food. He sighed at the thought. The last thing they needed was an extra mouth, but at least it made Makoto happy. Even if it would only be a matter of time before a feral cat or owl stole it away. Besides, what’s the point of a bird that can’t fly?

“Alright then, it’s time to get moving to the next town. We’ll need to find more food and supplies if we want to survive the winter.”

“So, what should we name him?”

“Do you even know it’s a boy?”

“No, I suppose... Alright, what do we name them? Something gender neutral, then...”

“It’s a bird, it doesn’t care. I mean, it’s not even one of those birds that can speak.”

“Well, he can still hear.”

“And as long as you put food in his gullet, he doesn’t care what you say.”

“Oh, I think he fell asleep...”

“Great.”

Makoto sighed. “Fine then, what do you want to talk about?”

“What we usually do.How are we going to survive the winter?”

“If we found a settlement, it wouldn’t be-”

“A settlement that’ll accept the both of us? Fat chance. You haven’t exactly gotten warm greetings in the towns we’ve passed through.”

“Then, why don’t you-”

“No. Never.” He spoke with the intensity and force he did any time Makoto brought ‘that’ up.

“Come on, it doesn’t mean leaving me to die. And I’ll be less of a burden....”

“Yes it will be a death sentence. Do you think the people you’re talking about are going to cut up your food for you, cook it? It’s not that kind of place. And-” he turned around, staring at his friend with glaring eyes. “Don’t ever call yourself a burden again.”

“A-alright.”

But, as bravely as Haru could talk, he wasn't sure he could deliver. The snow would provide a sort of refrigerator, sure, but for how long? They needed a generator, but the chances of finding one? As picked over as all the towns they had found so far were, he doubted it.

Tokyo was too violent, and too far anyway. Besides, that’s where all of this started, it wouldn’t do any good to go there.

And... Basically any large city was filled with violence, especially towards Vultures. Which only left small towns, which could easily go against Vultures, or full of Vultures. Or, if they were lucky, empty.

Haru pulled out his map, orientating himself to face North.

“The next town if a few miles this way... There’s a road, but it’ll be shorter just to go through these woods.”

“But, night is coming...”

“Yeah, and we haven’t found any food for you all day. Come on, let’s go.” Seeing the reluctant expression, Haru sighed, and grabbed Makoto’s free hand. As they ducked into the woods, a car passed on the road.

“Do you think that’s...”

“Not worth the risk, that’s all it is. Come on, we don’t have any time to waste. You got a nap back there, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” He was silent for a long time, occasionally checking on the fast asleep chick.

“Haru... What happens when you can’t find any food for me?” His voice was like that of a small child.

“Then I’ll go through heaven and hell to find more, okay? Now shut up about that.”

Makoto sighed. It wasn’t a real answer. Unrealistic, and for someone like Haru to say something unrealistic, the situation had to have been bad. Of course he knew the situation was bad, his waning strength and hurting stomach told him that much.

There was another question, always gnawing at him, worse than his hunger, but he didn’t dare ask Haru.

‘What if it starts to take you, too?’

“Stay here.” Haru pointed inside an abandoned building. The place had been stripped clean, but there were only two entrances- a front door and a back door- and Haru figured it was the best they would get.

“Alright... Good luck.”

Haru gave Makoto’s had a last squeeze before letting go, hurrying off into the small town.

Once again, Makoto sat in a corner, feeling like trash. If only he weren’t here, if only he died or they got separated, Haru wouldn’t have to always do this. Of course, Haru would never tolerate talk like that. Still, the thoughts were there, all the same.

He gently unwrapped the baby bird. He wasn’t happy to be woken up, and started crying after a moment.

“Hey, it’s okay, quiet down...” Makoto stroked the bird gently. “Haru’ll be back in a little bit with food... Until then, let’s get your wing fixed up, okay?”

He took the injured wing into his hand, and the bird started squirming, cawing pitifully.

“I’m sorry, it’ll be okay.” He set down the bird on his backpack, pulling a handkerchief out of one of the pockets.

“Now, just need a stick...” He found one outside, broken off a pine. The birds cries were louder when he left, and he hurried back to it.

The bird cawed the entire time he put on the makeshift cast. Once he was done, they quieted down.

“Hopefully, that’ll work.”  The baby stared at him, expectantly.

“Just wait a little, I’m sure he’ll be back in no time.”

But no time turned into half an hour, an hour, and eventually Makoto fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Haru went from door to door in the town. He knocked before entering, not particularly wanting to be met with a baseball bat wielding survivor.

He didn’t encounter anyone that was still alive, for all his caution. He stumbled upon a few corpses, badly decomposed.

Rooting through what appeared to be an old woman’s home, he found a collection of fine china and silverware.

“I guess she won’t be needing these.” He placed enough for the two of them in his bag.

He checked behind the house, hoping the woman had a vegetable garden. Any food she might have had long since expired, or been carried off by animals or humans.

He rooted through what had been a garden long ago, but found no domestic crops. A few of the wild plants were edible, though, and he satisfied his hunger with them.

In the bedroom, he found a container with vegetable seeds. A great score, once they found a place to settle down, he could plant them in the spring.

But that was for him, and in the future. He had to find food for Makoto, now.

A few houses down, he found what he was looking for. He pulled out his axe, tied a handkerchief over his nose, and got to work.

Something nudged Makoto in the arm. A plate he realized.

“Oh, hey.” He took the plate from Haru, realizing just how hungry he was. “Been awhile since we ate off this, huh?”

“I guess. I found a few chickens, think that guy would want any? I... Don’t want it to go to waste.”

Makoto smiled. “Is he such a waste now?”

“He will be when there’s not more than enough food. I say we cook him.”

“Hey! No eating babies, we agreed on this.”

Haru rolled his eyes. “Fine. Hand him here.”

Makoto scooped the bird up with one hand, passing him to his friend.

“Think of a name for it yet?”

“No.”

“Good, I don’t want you getting too attached.”

“How can I not? He’s a vulture.”

Haru sighed, giving the bird a small strip of the meat. He gladly gobbled it, head bobbing up and down.

“What can he do for us?”

“He could bring us carion!”

“I don’t exactly like eating roadkill.”

“But what if he finds... You know...��

“Ah... I guess that’s good enough to keep him around. Think you can teach him to track out humans?”

Makoto flinched at the word. “I... Maybe? Either way, it’s promising.”

“And he’s quieter than a dog, I suppose.” Haru tore another small piece of the animal flesh off, giving it to the bird. “I guess he is kinda cute.”

“See? I knew he’d grow on you.” Makoto finally started his food, reluctant as always. He tried not to think of what it was, but as always, failed. You’d think he’d be used to it by now...

Haru finished far before him, and set his plate on the floor.

“I’ll go outside and get cleaned up while you finish. There’s a well next to one of the homes. If you get in trouble, call.”

“I know, you don’t have to tell me every time.”

“Well, if anything happened to you...” Haru shook his head, leaving through the doorway.

Outside, he pulled up a bucket. The water was dirty, and had insect larvae squirming in it.

He sifted it through a cloth, getting it clean enough, before boiling it. He filled up his and Makoto’s water bottles. It would enough to last them for a few days- a week if they rationed it carefully.

With that out of the way, he rinsed off his bloody clothing. It fell apart in a few places, and he sighed, giving up. He’d just have to find a new set in one of the homes.

After looking around longer than he would have liked, he found himself a blue jacket and jeans, grabbing a larger set for Makoto.

He cleaned as much dirt and blood off himself as he could manage.

He glanced over himself in the mirror. “Good enough.” He was worried about not getting sick, not looking good.

He hurried back to their shelter. Makoto was still finishing the last bit of his meal.

“No leftovers...” Haru frowned. “We’ll work something out tomorrow, then, I guess.” He threw his friend the clothes. “Get changed into this, your clothes are filthy.”

“Oh, I guess they are.”

He stood up, pulling off the tattered long sleeve. You sat, sorting through your bag.

“Say, Haru, what if we just stay here?”

“Why would we do that? There’s not enough food for you here.”

“Where will there be? You said it yourself, to find enough for me, we have to constantly be on the move. But we need to stop somewhere for the winter. You just have to accept it, I won’t-”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’ll keep you warm all winter, then. It can’t be helped.”

“Haru, you can’t... I won’t make it through winter.”

“Shut up!” Haru stood, pushing Makoto back. “Why are you always like this? We will survive. It’s what we do.”

“It’s what you help me do.”

“You’re so stupid.” Haru glared at his friend. “I wouldn’t be here without you either. I need you.”

“But for what? I just follow you around, and take your time and energy because I’m too weak-”

“I need you.” His expression softened, eyes glazing slightly. “I need you so much, you idiot.”

Makoto was taken aback by the sudden change.

“I mean...” He gave up on the argument with a sigh. “Right, sorry.”

“You can’t help it, that’s fine. Besides, it’s kind of charming.”

“Huh?”

“Oh nothing.” Haru pulled away, wiping his eyes. “Nothing, shut up.”

Makoto relaxed, smiling. “Sure.”

Haru pushed him again, before sitting. “Forget that, alright?” Makoto sat next to him. He wanted to talk more about it, but then, he guessed there were more important things.

Still, he had to say something before it was too late.

“That thing better start carrying its own weight soon,” Haru said over his shoulder.

The vulture, somewhat recovered, had perched himself on Makoto’s shoulder. He still couldn’t fly, although he made an attempt every now and then.

The sun was near the middle of the sky, and Haru set his bag down, sitting down a few meters from the road.

“If any cars come-”

“Duck into the cover, I know.”

He handed his friend a bento box, although it only had one ingredient.

“I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t give him any until you’re full.”

“So he’s gone from it to him, then?”

“Just eat.”

Makoto glanced at the bird on his shoulder. “You heard him. Why don’t you go find a rat or something to snack on?”

He only cawed in reply.

“Say, how do you feel about Akachan?” Baby.

“Ka! Ka!” The bird replied enthusiastically.

“Alright then, that’s it.” He held up a hand for Akachan to step up on, and set him on the ground. “Go on, find something to eat.”

He only pecked at the ground. Makoto figured he would find the bird something after he finished his meal. He wasn’t as hungry as he was yesterday, but Haru had started walking faster with the threat of winter coming, and he needed more and more food these days.

He ate everything in the box, leaving nothing for Akachan. After cleaning out the bloodstains as best he could, he put it in his bag.

Akachan had wandered a few feet away, and busied himself with the ants in the dirt.

“Hey, they’ll bite you.” He urged him back on his hand. Pacing around the area Haru had left him in, he couldn’t find anything. But after a little while, Akachan leap off his hand, fluttering to the ground without grace.

Well, vultures never really did have grace. Still, it was clear he wouldn’t be flying anytime soon.

He buried his head in the grass, coming up with a lizard. Before Makoto could take it to break up the meal, the bird swallowed it whole.

“Well, guess that takes care of that.” He picked the bird back up, absentmindedly scratching under the feathers on his head. Bits of the soft fluff came off as he did so, telling Makoto he was molting.

“Hey, soon you’ll get better feathers. Excited about that, Akachan?”

The vulture grabbed Makoto’s shoulder with his beak, climbing up with some difficulty.”Hey, that’s not an answer.”

“Having fun with your buddy?” Haru stepped out of the trees, his tote bag filled with plants.

“His name’s Akachan!”

“That’s stupid. He won’t be a baby for long.”

“But he’ll always be my baby.”

Haru shrugged, pulling his burner out of his backpack. “Whatever, name him what you want.”

The smell of frying plants repulsed Makoto, no matter how much seasoning Haru added to the “stir fry.” He wished he could smell it the way Haru did, the way it was meant to.

Haru had offered him a bite, once and only once, when they were young. He had seen the pained expression Makoto wore in the moment, and never made the mistake again.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Haru never made the same mistake with him twice.

Once he said he liked his meat prepared a certain way, it was always prepared that way, no matter what. Once he said what made him uncomfortable, Haru did everything in his power to ensure that never happened again. That he would never have to find his own food, or see it before it was placed neatly on a plate in front of him.

It made him feel weak and useless, of course, but he appreciated it. But if his need to eat ever got in the way of Haru’s, well, he liked to think he wasn’t too much of a coward to off himself.

Or, if he ever had to eat someone who wasn’t dead.

He shivered involuntarily at the thoughts, and Haru moved closer when he noticed it.

He appreciated the gesture, but the pungent sell of the cooked wild vegetables made him nauseated.

“Sorry.” Haru set the bowl away. “It’s not that cold out here.”

“Maybe I have a cold or something.”

Haru frowned. “You’ve never been sick before. I guess I always assumed Vultures couldn’t get sick.”

“We’re immune to one virus. I’m I don’t think it works the same way with other illnesses.”

“We’ve just been lucky then. Nothing to do, I suppose, except keep you warm.  We can’t afford to slow our pace, we have to reach the next town.”

“What’re we gonna do there?”

“Find out if there’s people. Hopefully not. If there is, we take as much food as we can and head back. If there isn’t, we settle down there. It’s getting too late to keep moving, I underestimated how early the real cold would come.”

“What about a generator?”

“We can always keep warm with fire.” Haru shrugged. “Won’t be fun, but we’ll make it.”

Makoto nods. “We’ve made it this far, a little more cold can’t stop us.”

“It looks like it’s going to be worse than usual this year. Which is good for keeping meat cold, but not so much for finding it. I-I don’t know, if this time...” Haru shook his head. “Makoto, you should join a town of-”

“No!” Makoto’s voice was near violent, and surprised Haru. “Never, you know what they do. I would die before I joined the likes of them.”

“That’s not very wise, I would much rather you take your own life into account.”

“But they kill people like you! How could you suggest I join them, Haru?”

“Because I care about you, I want you to live.”

“What makes my life more valuable than the people I would have to kill to survive?”

“The fact that I love you.” Haru closed his eyes, leaning back. Makoto’s mouth went dry. Of course Haru loved him, they had been friends since they were children. But the way Haru said that... it felt different than friendship to Makoto. Almost like Haru felt the same way about Makoto than Makoto did about Haru, which would be very bad.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else to Haru.

“Hey, Rei look, a bird.”

Makoto started at the sound of voices. Akachan played in the snow, a few feet in front of him. A wall prevented him from seeing who was talking, and, he hoped, them from seeing him.

“Hardly uncommon, come on we should get going, I have a bad feeling about this place.”

“But look, he’s not flying away! Come on!”

Footsteps approached, and Makoto hid himself as far in the corner as he could.

The strangers approached, and for a moment Makoto thought they wouldn’t notice him. But then the taller one glanced up and saw him.

“Nagisa, step back,” he said in a tone that Makoto didn’t like.

“Hey, he doesn’t look harmful.” The blonde turned back to Makoto. “Is this bird yours?”

Makoto nodded numbly. Should he run? But they had him cornered. If only Haru were here, Haru would know what to do.

He recoiled when the blonde took a few steps closer. “Say, you’re a Vulture aren’t you?”

He didn’t know how to answer. If he said yes and they were humans, they might kill him. If he said no and they were Vultures, the same.

“It’s okay.” Nagisa kneeled down, smiling brightly. “You don’t have to be scared. I'm a Vulture too. Do you need help?”

“Nagisa, that’s enough. Do I need to remind you what happened to the last person we tried to help?”

“N-no, I don’t need it,” Makoto managed. “I’m fine... On my own.”

“Are you sure? You look kinda skinny.”

“He would never let starve, Makoto muttered quickly, before he realized what he said. “I-I mean, no, I can find food on my own...”

“It’s fine.” Nagisa stood up, with a puzzled expression. “But you just said you were alone. Who is he?”

Makoto shook his head. “Nothing.” He held an arm out, becoming Akachan to him.

“Come on,” Rei chimed in. “He said no.”

“We can’t. He’s like me!”

“There are lots of people like you that you don’t want to help.”

“But not like him, he’s all alone”

“Stop, you two.” The pair froze, and Makoto jumped up the moment he saw Haru.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re back!”

“Get out of here,” Haru ordered the two.

“Hey, this is our base! You can’t just tell us to get out. Look, we don’t want to cause any trouble.”

Haru unclipped his bloodstained axe from his belt. “If you don’t want any trouble, then get out.”

“Haru!” Makoto ran forward, tearing the weapon out of his friend’s hand. “If they’d wanted to do any harm, they would’ve when I was alone.”

“You can’t trust anyone.”

“Maybe I don’t want to live like that anymore.”

Haru’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you know what they are?”

“One’s a Vulture, one’s a human, just like us.”

Haru looked at the two suspiciously.

“Umm, I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Nagisa said, stepping forward. “But I like looking out for my own kind. You won’t find any bodies here, my friend and I already stored them all away.”

“I guess we should have counted on this,” Haru replied. He wrenched his axe back from Makoto, and put it in his belt. “We should get a move on then, while it’s not snowing too badly.”

“Hey, wait! We can share with you. If you try anywhere else, all the food will be buried.”

“I’m not sure about this, Nagisa...” Rei said from behind his friend.

“Neither am I,” hissed Haru, but Makoto silenced him.

“You’d really do that?”

“Of course!” Nagisa replied cheerfully, and with the agreement, neither of their partners felt like disagreeing.

Haru followed the two back, sulking, and with a hand over his axe. Makoto felt bad about agreeing to something when his friend had expressly warned against it, but he felt Haru was being too cautious. Hadn’t he said earlier he couldn’t feed Makoto?

Makoto dropped back next to his friend.“If you want, you can go to the next town. But he was right, by the time you get there all the bodies will be buried.”

“I know,” Haru said, refusing to look at Makoto. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Well, you’re not alone there. I’m sorry, I really am.”

Haru sighed. “No, you’re right. If you had starved because I was being stupid, I... I don’t know.”

“These guys don’t seem too bad. Really, they’re just like us.”

“Yeah, that’s what I don’t like about it.”

He didn’t have to say anything more.

The “base” was a small, sea blue colored house.

“Isn’t it kind of obvious someone’s living here?” Haru asked, glancing over the home. A garden was visible from the front of the home, and a pen with chickens stood out in the front yard.

“And so what? Hardly anyone comes here,” Rei answered. “If someone does, either Nagisa or

myself approaches them, depending on if they’re a Vulture or not.”

“Let’s get inside, I’m freezing!” Nagisa unlocked the door and rushed into the house.

“Wait, don’t turn the heater on!”

Makoto looked to his friend, then took his hand. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“Isn’t that what I usually tell you?”

“Sometimes things change.” Makoto cupped Haru’s cheek with one hand, tall enough to stare down in his friend’s eyes.

Or... More than a friend?

He leaned down. The kiss was soft, and for a moment he thought it was perfect. Then, haru winced slightly, and he stepped back, wiping his lips with a glove.

“Oh, god, I’m, I’m sorry, I forgot...”

“It’s okay.”

Makoto bit his lip, before turning and hurrying inside the home. How could he have been so stupid?

Nagisa grabbed him by the shoulder, and pulled him into a room left of the main door.

“What was that about?”

“H-hey, you were watching?”

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“That had nothing to do with you.”

Nagisa crossed his arms, pouting. “You need to tell him how you feel.”

“Why? It’s not news to him.”

“See? This is why what just happened did. You two are obviously terrible with communication.”

“We are not.” Makoto turned to leave the room, but Nagisa pulled him into a chair. He stood in front of him, blocking escape.

“Now, listen here. Just because civilization ended is no excuse to have bad relationship skills.”

“What are you talking abou-”

“Ah- who’s the one dating here? Look, you need to go talk to him about what happened. Work out something. Rei and I had the same problem.”

“And what did you do?”

Nagisa giggled. “An old word thing, brushing my teeth, and mint! It doesn’t taste very good, but I don’t have to eat or anything. Covers the taste right up.”

“It doesn’t make you sick?”

“Strangely, no. Rei started spurting some science nonsense about cold receptors and sharpened taste senses, I dunno I didn’t catch it.”

“Well, thanks I guess.” If nothing else, Nagisa had given him the space and mind to realize he did have to go speak with Haru.

“Anytime! We gotta look out for each other, right?”

“Whatever you say.”

He found Haru in the back garden, mulling over a frozen pond.

“H-Haru?”

His friend looked to him, then back at the ground. Makoto knelt down beside him.

“About back there-”

Haru had his arms wrapped around Makoto in an instant, and Makoto’s breath hitched in his throat. After a moment of hesitation, he hugged Haru closer.

‘Definitely not just friends,’ he thought, feeling like he would melt away any instant.

After a few moments, Haru let go, staring at Makoto with wide eyes.

“So, what does this make us?”

“Who cares about old world labels? I love you.”

Haru smiled. “Me too.”

Makoto could have sat out there, in the cold, forever, but soon his fingers started going numb, and he figured in the house would be slightly warmer.

Inside, Nagisa was happy to direct them to the spare bedroom. The bed, a twin, would be cramped, but it wasn’t like they could afford to sleep apart with the cold.

“I’m afraid it’ll get a bit warm in the summer, but that’s a while off.” He waved the two goodbye, winking at Makoto.

“What was that?”

“O-oh, I talked with him a little  while ago. He tried giving me advice, but it looks like I don’t need it, I guess.”

“Knew you for half an hour, and tried to give you relationship advice.

“Come on, be fair. He was only trying to help.”

Haru set his duffel bag on the floor. “I say we take stock of the food inventory, see if there’s actually enough like they say.”

In the kitchen, the two found Rei making a meal.

“I can cook for you, if you want,” Haru said, looking at the meal. It didn’t look too bad, but certainly not as good as his cooking.

Rei looked at him doubtfully, but shrugged. “Guess that’s one way to help around the house.” He stepped aside, and Haru immediately went to work.

Makoto pinched his nose when the meat started to cook. Fish, he knew. Haru had caught some once when they were in a beachside village. He was glad for Haru, at least, it had been one of his favorite foods.

“Umm, Haru had mentioned wanting to see the food stores, to see if there was enough for the winter...”

“And if there isn’t?”

“I’m... Not sure. Maybe we could go to the next town, or...”

Rei shook his head. “You could carry one back at a time.” He tapped his glasses, something of a habit for him. “The two of you probably eat two pounds of meat a day, but being stuck in the house all winter, I imagine one and a half should suffice. We have five bodies, about 750 pounds in all. And with about 100 days of winter in front of us, I say if we get creative with the preparation it should all be fine. But when the snow thaws...” He shook his head. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

Makoto nodded, feeling relieved. “I didn’t want to be a burden on you.”

“Actually, if you want to help out too, perhaps you could help Nagisa and I switch out the snow in the freezer. We do it about twice a day, I don’t want to take the risk of losing any meat.”

Makoto repressed a shiver at the thought, and nodded. “Of course. Anything else you could use my help with?”

“Actually, yes. Are you any good with animals?”

He led Makoto to his and Nagisa’s room, then to the bathroom. On the meticulously clean counter was a ten gallon aquarium.

“These are mosquito fish. Most died off when the cold came, but I saved the biggest females and males and put them in here. Once it gets warm, they reproduce at a rapid rate. Not a terribly substantial food source, but the best we have in regards to fish here. Any ocean fish would die from the water change, and any domestic fish have gotten eaten long ago by now.

“Now, these guys are pretty hardy, caring for them should be easy enough.”

“Can akachan have some when the spring comes around?”

Rei looked doubtfully at the vulture. “I don’t imagine he’d be too interested in them, but sure.”

Nagisa, as it turned out, adored the bird.

He threw the juvenile a piece of coyote meat.

“He sure warmed up to you fast, huh?” Makoto smiled at the scene.

“Obviously! He had someone who raised him well.”

Makoto leaned back in his seat, enjoying the occasion Akachan wasn’t pestering him for attention. “I guess so.”

“You’re the mama bird, then?” Nagisa held out a hand, and the vulture flapped up clumsily to it. “Not a great flier, though.”

“He hurt his wing when I found him. And, he’s never had much reason to fly. I don’t think he even realized he’s a bird sometimes.”

“Cause he’s not a bird, he’s my new buddy!” Nagisa said proudly, wrapping Akachan in a hug. The vulture squawked in protest.

“Haru’s always telling me I should let him be free. Sometimes I have to wonder...”

“Huh? Why isn’t he free with you?”

“Well, he’s a bird. He should be flying, shouldn’t he? Traveling miles and miles through the air.”

Nagisa shrugged. “How do you know he would be happy like that? Did you ask him?”

“Of course not, he can’t talk-”

“In a way. If he really wanted to fly, he would be trying harder, wouldn’t he? If the sky were so important, he would be reaching for it every day. Yet he’s happy here with you. You aren’t making him unhappy by keeping him here. You’re making him unhappy by thinking that you aren’t enough for him. Right, Akachan?”

Makoto noticed the tears in Nagisa’s eyes, but didn’t say anything. “Something tells me we’re not talking about birds anymore.” He said, wistfully.

“Something tells me you can see right through me.”

“It’s not that hard. We’re pretty similar.”

“So you feel it, too?”

“Like a burden? LIke I’m holding him back? Like, if I didn’t exist or ran off, he’d finally be able to be with others... Other humans?”

Nagisa looked up to Makoto, and shook his head.

“I mean, I feel it too, but... Oh, nevermind.”

Whatever Nagisa didn’t want to talk about obviously caused him a lot of pain, and Makoto didn’t want to push the issue.

And, besides, another part of him told him he didn’t want to hear whatever it was.

“What are we supposed to do?” Makoto sighed.

“Vultures were supposed to become the new branch of humanity.” Nagisa patted the bird in his lap. “Instead, we became hunted by it. There’s no cure for it, you know. No vaccine, not like a vaccine would help anyone here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Rei told me all about it. In the town he came from, there were plenty of people who knew exactly what happened sixteen years ago. A disease, a horrible, flesh eating disease that threatened the human race. They tried vaccening adults, nothing, Children, nothing. Fetus’s? It worked. Except, we came out like this. Monsters.” “Don’t say-”

“There’s no sense in hiding from what you are, is there? We’re the trial run, the experiment. I bet in other places they have solutions that don’t involve a race of cannibalistic monsters, but here? Nobody wants to come here, not with us. Ever wonder why it’s been 16 years and nothing's changed here? They’re waiting for it to die out, for everything to die out. For us to.”

“But, why not...”

Nagisa stood up, wiping tears away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Makoto stared at him. It had never occurred to him the winter would be difficult in this way.

But Nagisa’s words brought a thought to his mind, one he had always avoided.

Why would he do when everyone died? When the Vultures ate all that there was to eat?

He had felt that, time and time again. Japan might have been a big country once upon a time, but the populator had been devastated by the disease. Sure, for some, the disease took a long time to kill, for others, their death came about by other means. But eventually, those stragglers would run out.

Another, far worse thought, clawed at him, once again. What would he do when the disease got to Haru?

The next few days were quiet. Preparations for winter weren’t complete. Rei went on about “diet variety” and how necessary it was for him and Haru. Makoto thought of telling him about how Haru had eaten fish for a month straight once, but he didn’t have the spirit.

He didn’t much have the spirit for much more than chores. Haru certainly noticed, but didn’t say anything. On one hand, he wanted to talk about his fears, but he didn’t want to burden Haru with them.

Packaging food, hunting for gasoline, changing out the snow... Everything piled into a monotonous rhythm.

Then, one day, the snow had piled up too quickly for him to open the door. He sighed, sitting next to it. Knees wrapped up to his chest, he still shivered. As he calmed his quivering breathing, he noticed the conversation coming from the room next to him.

“-can’t mean.” It was Haru.

“I can’t say for sure if it’s true or not. But Nagisa lived in a colony of them, and once they reach their twenties, it would seem-”

Something hit the wall, shattering. Makoto flinched.

“Bull shit! WHat about the plans we had? What about-”

“Haru, calm down. I know, it’s difficult news. But if you’re not strong, how do you think he can take it?”

He... Makoto knew they were talking about him.

“How can I be calm about this? Can’t you do something, anything-”

“If I could, wouldn’t I have already? Why do you think we got this house, tried to make some sort of lives for ourselves? They weren’t built for this. They weren’t built for anything, you simple have to accept that.”

“And let him just die?” “Why don’t you talk to him?”

“Aren’t the others doing something, anything-”

“It’s not anything we can stop. Maybe it we had outside help, but you know they wouldn’t be willing.”

Makoto stood as Haru opened the study door, and his friend’s expression turned from anger to surprise.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, I���m sorry...”

“Why? You’re the one, who, you know.”

“I mean, a Vulture aren’t I? The best thing I can do for humanity is die..”

Haru glared at Makoto for a moment, before slapping him.

“Don’t... Say that.”

Makoto rubbed his stinging cheek. “But it’s true. You know it, too. Soon there will be nothing more for me to eat. Already, we’re finding less and less people, how long do you think it’ll be before people stop dying?”

“As long as I’m alive, you are to,” Haru swore, sincerity blazing in his eyes like Makoto had never seen before.

“Don’t say that! I’m fine with my fate. So what if I don’t live as long as a human? At least I got to be with you.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“How am I supposed to say it? Haru, you’ve done a lot of things for me, but you can’t save me from this. I say you and Rei go to a human inhabited city after the winter, and-”

“No! I’m not leaving you. And I’m not going to go make nice with the people that would have you killed, either. I’ve said it since I was a kid. We’re in this together, forever. Right?”

“Haven't you done this long enough, though? I'm tired of holding you back, keeping you from other-”

“I don't want anyone but you! I don't need anyone but you.” His shoulders hunched and despite the bangs that fell over his eyes, Makoto could see tears. “I need you. I love you.”

“You’re starving, you have to eat something!”

His hand trembled as he looked a the axe Haru had handed him. The handle was stained with blood, the blade carefully cleaned.

Soon, it would be stained with blood again, though. It was so fruitless of Haru to try and keep clean in a place like this.

He slowly placed a second hand on the weapon. How could he swing it and off himself?

It might take a while, but he could never ask Haru to do it. Just like he could never to sacrifice something off his living flesh. Dead flesh was okay, they didn’t need it anymore. But he was alive, and here you needed every bit of you.

He might have needed it as well, but he didn’t want it.

He stood up, still trembling, and lifted the axe, aiming for his stomach.

“Give that,” Haru snatched it away, and for a hopeful moment he thought Haru would finally do it, end him quickly and move on. There was no reason for both of them to suffer, after all.

“Making me do everything,” Haru grumbled, grabbing a stick off the ground.

“Wait, no!” He lunged forward, but his lover only kicked him back, raising the axe with one arm. The first swing make it only a quarter in his flesh. Blood splattered everywhere around him, but he heard only a small grunt from Haru.

Second swing. It cut in the bone, which produced a greater sound from Haru, but not a scream.

Breaking out of his daze, Makoto rushed to his feet, but by then the third swing had been swung.

It was a hideous sight, a thousand times worse than the sight he had become accustomed to.

“Damn it, why do you have you have to do this? Just let go of me already!”

Haru picked up his arm from the ground, and slowly approached Makoto, holding it out.

“No, no, we’re bandaging you up first,” Makoto said firmly.

“Only if you agree to eat this.”

“Fine, fine!”

Haru smiled weakly, a sight he would have usually appreciated. Not he lived in a panicked state. He set the stump in snow, while he ran inside to grab bandaged, cloth, something.

Alcohol, too, he recalled. He had never known much about medical care before Haru taught him. Vultures had stronger immune systems, they didn’t bother with such things.

But humans, humans were fragile, breakable things. To care for them, you had to learn to care about such things.

He hurriedly grabbed everything he needed, and rushed outside. The snow around Haru was stained red, and Makoto’s heart bled at the sight as well.

“Stay awake, stay awake,” he said rushed, as he poured rubbing alcohol on the wound.

Haru flinched. “Remember who taught you how to care for the sick,” he replied weakly.

But hey, he replied at all, and Makoto convinced himself that was a good thing.

“I’m pretty sure staying healthy doesn't involve cutting your arm off.”

“Or starving yourself.”

“I’m just a Vulture...” He forced himself not to repeat the thought that had so infuriated his lover before.

That had been the final straw for Makoto. Once Rei was on the scene, looking after Haru, Makoto snuck off. The snow was deep and hard to navigate, but it would be best for him to catch hypothermia and die anyway. Haru’s arm was stored away in his bag but he was still far to nauseous for that. If he ate it now he would only vomit it back up.

He ran through the snow for what must have been hours, lungs burning with every breath. When he finally stopped to regain his breath, he was somewhere unfamiliar. Buildings surrounded, but he had no idea where he was. Sitting by the side of the road, he opened his bag. He slowly unwrapped the arm, closing his eyes. With each bite, he despised himself more and more, but he so hungry, he had no choice but to continue eating. It would be last thing he’d eat for the next week.

He had hardly stood up when someone was running to him.

“Damn it,” he muttered. Before he could so much as turn away, he was grabbed.

He knew this was a risk, a big risk, but he was so hungry.

He bit at the hand of the person who had grabbed, feeling ashamed but primal at the same time.

“Hey, buddy, calm down. You gotta be a vulture.” The stranger slowly lowered him to the ground, surprisingly gentle. Still, he held Makoto's frothing mouth to the ground.

“Oi, Sousuke get over here! We got someone starving over here!”

Footsteps approached, and suddenly logic made it through his clouded mind. Strangers, strangers holding him. What were they going to do? He was a Vulture.

At least if they killed him, he wouldn’t have to live with this hunger, he supposed.

“We don’t have much food to spare.”

“Yeah, lots of hungry mouths to feed, right?”

The other sighed, sounding exasperated. “Fine, I’ll get him something small.”

“He’s starving!”

“You’re not supposed to feed starving people much food right away. That’s people, at least, who knows about Vultures?”

“Fine, fine just grab something. Preferably torn off the bone.”

Makoto had a crazy thought of asking them to cook it, but any food he could digest would taste the same to him at the moment.

After a few moments, the person sitting on top of him released him.

“Sorry about that. Feel a little better?”

He nodded numbly, sitting up. He stared at the ground as the other person talked.

“We’re Vultures, so there’s no reason to be worried. There was a whole community of us here before, but a group of humans came by and wiped us out. So, now it’s just the two of us. Food's Starting to run a bit thin, but hey there are a few human communities nearby.”

Makoto was too exhausted to find fault with those words, simple nodding along.

(Please note that this story is old, and therefore, not up to my current quality standards. I did some spell checking, but in the spirit of this series, I don’t want to change these stories too much. Besides I’m lazy. Please let me know if you’d like to continue with this story!)