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xaphrin · 4 years ago

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A Dragon’s Hoard

This is a part that doesn’t quite fit into the next part of the story, but I wanted to share it from Raven’s point of view. Thank you so much for putting up with me.

Raven felt Damian stir sometime in the middle of the night, long after he had passed out in the bed. She sat in a chair by the small fire in the hearth, quiet and still, and watched as the warm covers slid off his shoulders and down his bare chest - a chest that any sculptor would have loved to admire. Her hands paused on the page she had been reading as Damian lifted his body and stretched his arms above his head.

Of course, she certainly loved to admire it too.

When she had decided on taking him in and helping him heal, she hadn’t considered her own body’s reactions to him. Raven had simply thought that he was… fascinating. A curious creature that brought a ray of light into her long, lonely existence. He had been the first knight to apologize, even as she was ready to rip him apart, and he meant it. Damian did not want to be the reason for her demise, and he felt genuine remorse and regret at having to kill her. It gave her pause, and so, she did the unthinkable - she healed him. She took him in, claimed him as part of her hoard, and… now she let him become something more.

He pushed at his hair and swung his legs over to the side of the bed, moving towards the pitcher of water by the window. He washed his face and ran water through his hair before turning to look at her. Raven’s eyes followed him with rapt attention. He certainly was a sight to behold when he was wet.

Damian lifted his stare to her own and toweled off his hair. “I see you’re awake.”

“Mm…” Raven closed her book, and her fingertips rested on the leather of the cover, feeling as if she couldn’t quite part with it yet. “Did you know you snore in your sleep?” He didn’t, but that didn’t mean that Raven couldn’t tease him a little. She leaned forward and smiled. “I don’t know how you handle that racket you make.”

“I do not snore!” His eyes burned with fire for a moment before he realized she was teasing, and he leaned back on his heels watching her. “You’ve got a mouth on you, dragon.”

She smirked and leaned forward, watching as he stalked towards her. “So do you, knight.” The double-nature of her comment was not lost on him, and she watched as Damian arched an eyebrow.

As he rounded the bed, Raven’s eyes slid down the length of him to find his cock half-stiff and looking for attention. She’d be more than willing to give him any attention he wanted, if he asked it of her. Without realizing it, her tongue slipped out to wet her lower lip, suddenly feeling parched. If she had known how decadent the pleasures of the flesh were, Raven wouldn’t have waited centuries to find herself a mate. He stepped closer to her and let his own stare wander over her form, before settling on the book in her lap.

“Poetry?”

“Pastoral poetry.” She opened the book and thumbed through the pages. “All right fields ready for plowing and the bright, colorful beauty of an untouched flower.” Raven smirked and glanced up at him. “Rife with double entendres and metaphors for intercourse.”

Damian snorted, and he reached for the book in her hand. With no small amount of curiosity, Raven realized that for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel possessive over allowing someone else to touch her hoard. In fact, she wanted to share it with him. She wanted to give him anything he wanted, even if it was her most precious books. He glanced through the poetry and smirked at her, looking almost playful.

“This is filthy.”

“Practically raunchy.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, watching him. “I believe the dripping honeycomb and the sweetness of the golden treasure might be the filthiest thing I’ve ever read.”

Damian found the page and snorted. “Licking it from his fingers? Drenching the sweetest of treats? I do believe you’re right.” He glanced back into her face, his eyes darkening as he tried to read her. “Could you not sleep?”

“The storm woke me up.” She didn’t know how to tell him that the noise reminded her of the terror her father had left echoing inside her, and so she stayed silent. She should tell him the truth about herself and the history with her father, but… right now she liked living in this fantasy. She wasn’t ready to destroy the delicate connection she had made with him.

“Mm.” He closed the book and set it on the table next to her, his gaze searching her face for a long, quiet moment. “Would you like me to distract you?”

A sudden, violent heat slipped down her spine and pooled in the pit of her stomach, and images of just a few hours earlier filled her vision. She was sore from earlier, but that didn’t stop her from wanting. Her heart skipped beats and she swallowed, watching as he took a step towards her. Damian held out his hand and Raven slid her palm along his, feeling magic and electricity spark between them.

This was her mate.

Her only mate.

She was going to enjoy every second she had left with him.

Damian pulled her to her feet and his mouth found hers, hot and desperate. Raven pushed herself up on her toes and met him kiss-for-kiss, feeling like every stroke of his tongue or bite of his teeth was stealing a little bit more of her resolve. Her fingers curled into his short hair and she pulled him tight against her, reveling in the feeling of his cock growing between them. She pushed her hips against his, and tasted the rich flavor of his groan.

Seven hells. He was delicious.

Damian’s fingers buried into the intricate braid coiled around her head, and he started pulling the pins free, letting them fall to the floor with a soft tink. His free hand cupped a breast, fingers teasing her nipple into a tight peak, tugging and pulling at her. Electricity shot straight between her legs, and she gasped between their kisses, shuddering. He smirked at her, as if he had won a battle they weren’t even fighting, and he dropped his mouth to her other breast, his tongue curling around her nipple.

“Knight.”

“Mm.” He lapped at her nipple and then sucked hard. Hard enough to leave a mark, but Raven didn’t care, she was resolved to wear any of his marks with pride.

She was writhing now, her hands finding his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Damian pulled back, nipping at her breast as he slid a hand between her legs to find her clit. He rubbed tight circles over her, and Raven felt her whole body twitch with every pass of his fingers. Within moments, her head fell back against her shoulders as heat burned like fire just under her belly button. Her breath was short, and her hands tightened on his shoulders as a mumbled plea fell from her lips.

“Please. I need…” She knew what she needed, but she was a babbling mess already, unable to articulate it. Her hips pushed up against his hand, and Damian slipped three fingers inside her, stretching her wide and filling her. Raven tipped forward, sagging against him as she raced towards her orgasm, her breath short and desperate.

He kissed up the curve of her breast to her neck and hummed, the vibration feathering over her skin. “Hm… a field drenched with summer’s rain.”

Raven’s eyes snapped open and she looked up to see him laughing at her. Her face fell. “Knight.” She pushed at his shoulders, and he took a half-step back as he tried to regain his footing. Raven snorted, feeling smoke billow out of her nose. “Now is not the time to quote poetry to me.”

“Ah…” Smirking, he slipped his fingers from her body, and raised his fingertips to his lips. He licked his fingers, looking far too full of himself. “I believe this is the perfect time to quote poetry to you.”

Raven pushed at his shoulders again, and he fell back against the bed, his hands tight on her hips as he dragged her down with him. She fell against his chest, his erection pressing hard against her lower belly in a promise of what was to come. She writhed against him, pushing herself up on her knees, resting on either side of his hips. Damian bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself from moaning, but Raven could taste it on his skin. He was just as far gone as she was, and there was a part of her that reveled in that.

She lifted herself up on her knees and leaned over him, but Damian just chuckled up at her, his fingers reaching up to untangle the locks of hair in her braid. He let her hair curl over her shoulders, threading it between his fingers. A moment passed, and he nipped at her lower lip. His pupils were blown wide, and his fingers tightened on her hips.

“What would you like me to say, dragon? What kind of poetry should I be reciting to you?”

“The only poetry I want to hear right now-” Raven paused as she sunk herself down on his sizable cock, her whole body quaking with the movement. She felt deliciously full, like she was going to burst at any moment. Her fingers bit into his chest and she swallowed another breath, hoping she looked unaffected. “-is your moaning voice as I ride you, my knight.”

He pushed himself up, his fingers tightening in her hair, and pushed his hips up into her own with force. Raven cried out and tipped forward, her clit dragging along his body with the movement. It was too much. Far too much. And she felt the beginnings of an orgasm burn through her skin. Damian pulled at her hair, crushing his mouth to her own as her hips moved frantically against his, feeling his erection pulse inside her as she shook against him. Her teeth sunk into his lower lip and she moaned, shaking and shivering until she was able to pull away.

“Damian…” Raven sagged against him, feeling boneless as her orgasm still simmered in the pit of her stomach, like embers in a cooling fire.

“Ah, dragon.” His hands tightened on her hips and he slammed his hips up into hers again. Raven let go of a short scream, and her eyes shot open as she stared at him. He growled low in his throat, and pushed up into her again. “I believe you said you were going to ride me.”

Raven’s hands rested on his chest, and she pitched forward, lifting herself up a few inches before she pushed herself back down. Oh. Oh, hells. This felt… different. So much different. Before, Raven had been laid out like a sacrifice for him, her pleasure completely in his hands. While Damian he knew exactly how to play her like a well-tuned instrument, and break her apart, now… she was in control. And, judging by the crease in his brow and the soft groan on his lips, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

His head tipped back on the bed, and he arched up to meet each one of her frantic thrusts. Raven felt wild, like the beast inside her was threatening to break free and claim him all over again. He was beautiful, her mark on his shoulder lighting up in the thin light in the room, his mouth open, his breaths low and rough. She could watch him like this forever, a mess beneath her. Damian slipped a hand between them, rubbing his thumb over her clit. She twitched, her movements stuttering.

“Knight…”

He dug his heels into the bed and pushed harder into her. “Dragon. I can feel you…” His lips caught hers again in another slow kiss, his thumb still tight on her clit. “If you’re going to fall… then fall.”

Raven pulled back from his kiss, her movements still frantic as she tried to swallow another breath. Her mind was fraying, her body felt like it wasn’t her own, but she wanted. She wanted everything she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to have. Her nails bit into his chest and she slammed harder into him. “I will fall when you do.”

“Then make me come.”

Oh, seven hells.

He bit at her neck, likely leaving a mark, and Raven lost control of her own body. She was something else entirely, flying through the sky as pleasure drowned her. Light exploded around her, and Her whole body was lit up like the fireworks she had seen in the south. Damian sealed his mouth to hers again, swallowing her moans and letting himself fall with her. His cock twitched and he shook, his movements shaky as he came with her. The world didn’t exist outside this moment, and that was fine with her.

Raven collapsed on his chest, their breaths mingling with their sweat. Silence stretched between them, broken only by a curse or a groan, and she finally lifted her eyes to meet his. Damian was staring at the ceiling, his fingers running up and down her spine. He caught her stare and his lips twitched.

“I would not have imagined that would be the response from pastoral poetry.”

Raven chuckled and buried her face into his chest, trying to hide her practically giddy smile. “Field ripe for plowing.”

Damian snorted.

#damirae #demonbirds #dragon-shifter au #because these are things #that I just wanted to do

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shapeshifting-wildcard · 3 years ago

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[ 🌎 ] are there any aus you have for your muse? what are they like, and how is your muse different in them?

Headcanon Meme

((Fully fleshed out AUs? No, not really.

A bunch of vague Ideas For AUs that might be fun to explore in some way at some point? Oh absolutely. I’ve got three that come to mind pretty readily.

AU #1 is a Vanilla Bad Ending AU. This one is probably one of the more divergent for Jou’s personal canon because it’s only even possible if he never made a blog and got in contact with the greater multiverse. Jou, under the belief that his friends have just been erased from existence and terrified of the prospect of being left alone again, takes Yaldy’s offer. His friends are restored, and he gets to continue on as a Phantom Thief, changing the hearts of the wicked and bending the will of the populace towards Yaldy’s own ends.

I figure the longer it goes on, the more he starts to Become Joker, until that mask is really all that’s left of him. Though ironically I feel like he’d lose access to Arsene in the process. He’s no longer actually being true to himself, after all. He’s just relying on the Joker mask the same way Akechi relied on his Detective Prince persona. Except it’s even worse because he’s also actively running away from himself and his own feelings, which he refuses to confront or acknowledge. His Palace would probably end up growing larger and larger, and anyone who wanted to free him/the world would be pretty much forced to confront it, and force him to confront it as well. Yaldabaoth, of course, would have a vested interest in keeping him contained and would actively thwart any and all attempts to break Jou out.

The actual fate of his friends I’m not sure about. Either they’d still be trapped in the Velvet Room and need someone to break them out, with the versions Yaldy created being barely more than cognitive doubles based on Jou’s memories. Or they’d be the actual Thieves, released from the Velvet Room alongside Jou and under an undetermined amount of mind control.

AU #2 is a Royal Bad Ending AU that I’ve mentioned before. This one is not as wildly divergent, as it can just as easily be a result of Jou’s timeline just simply being more thoroughly locked down than it ended up being. In this case, Jou just simply fails to deal with his Palace at all and ends up accepting A Certain Person’s offer on the Promised Day, resulting in all of them staying in the dream world instead of breaking out into reality. In his head, Jou tries to justify it as giving his friends what they want just as much as himself. But in actuality, it’s purely his own selfish desire to run away. Much like in AU #1.

His Palace would also be a factor in this AU, and the person running things would also have a vested interest in keeping it running. It’s just that in this AU his Palace would actually start to shift into something more akin to Jail. He wouldn’t really have much interest or motivation to steal random strangers’ Desires, but he would hoard his friends’ specifically. Returning his friends’ Desires would be just as important as changing Jou’s heart in this case.

Obviously, he wouldn’t even have access to any of his Personas in this AU because he’d have lost his will of rebellion. Also, there’s a Very good chance that if/when he does break out, Magpie would never forgive Jou. Honestly, some of the other PT might not be happy with him, either. It could very well spell the end of the PT because after this... how can they trust Jou to make good decisions for the group? How can they trust Jou to not just override or ignore all of their wants and desires?

AU #3 is less a specifically Jou AU and more just a general Joker AU. It’s a Joker/Akechi roleswap idea, where Akechi and Joker meet a year earlier and that connection ends up convincing Akechi to jump ship. He wants to drag Joker out with him, but circumstances prevent that from happening. I kinda have half a notion that Akechi ends up moving in with Sae and Makoto, which would create its own interesting Drama™️ and dynamics given Sae’s opinion of her role as Makoto’s guardian. So Akechi starts off much more knowledgeable about the other world and as such has more of an idea of how the other world works at the start, but there are still sizable gaps in his knowledge that Morgana can fill in. And of course not only does he not come out and tell them about his previous work with Shido right away, he also spends a good amount of time hiding Loki’s special power until it’s most Dramatically (In)Convenient™️

I have a much more solid idea of what Akechi-in-Joker’s-role is like than Joker himself lol. Joker might have awakened to some other Persona at the start, or he might have still awakened to Arsene. Either way, getting involved with Akechi and Shido would absolutely change his second/ultimate Persona, especially as he lacks Akechi’s special power and so once Akechi jumped ship he’d be forced to commit mental shutdowns only, instead of mostly psychotic breakdowns and the occasional mental shutdown. I imagine the combination of being “abandoned” again plus the mounting guilt of having to kill over and over would take a toll on Joker eventually, resulting in him being Very Bitter by the time the confrontation in Shido’s Palace happens. (And that’s not even mentioning the Interrogation Room incident, or whatever equivalent ends up happening.)

Despite the change in circumstances, Akechi would still have his Detective Prince persona, trying to endear himself primarily to the adults around him. He’d still keep up a pleasant facade around other kids, but he’d be more willing to let it slip around them because what are the adults going to believe? Their own past pleasant experiences with Akechi, or some snot-nosed kid trying to besmirch his good reputation? Joker would also keep up his more low-key, blend into the background persona. I’m actually not sure if he’d take over as the Third Detective Prince or if he’d stay in the background. And it’s a tossup whether they’d pretend not to know each other when they first meet up again, or if they’d immediately act like the old friends they are, or maybe a bit of both.

Oh yeah, and both of them would absolutely still be wildcards, with that being one of the things Akechi finds out by accident after recruiting Mona. Joker wouldn’t figure it out until much later, possibly also by accident when they temporarily team up, or possibly not even until Third Semester.))

#💔 Let me explain! (Asks)#!meme responses #!headcanons #!long post #((very long post because I decided to ramble a bit about the AUs slakfehaslfhe))#((they're behind a readmore to save people's dashes))

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rokutouxei · 4 years ago

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the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 12 OF 22

My heart is an unmade bed; it might look messy, but I swear it’s a safe place to rest. - Moriah Pearson

It doesn’t take long for the Rooftop to become their place.

At first, it is a matter of weather. The tail end of autumn and the first breezes of winter mean that the Grove can get a little too cold in the late afternoons when they meet; and in truth, the Rooftop is barely any better, but at least there’s a stunning view below, and a vending machine for hot drinks at the first floor. If it gets too cold out, there’s the storage room on the same floor that’s decked out with windows—Isaac keeps all the astronomical equipment in here, mostly the telescopes, but also a few plastic chairs and tables.

Peak convenience.

This was totally not what she had planned from the beginning.

Definitely. Not at all.

It doesn’t take long for them to surrender and make the Rooftop their little hiding space. The hours spent in companionable silence in the Grove have just changed locations, but—somehow, up here, where there’s only the two of them, it’s a little more… intimate. They spend an hour or so with their usual book exchange and then—they stay to listen to each other.

For hours. Sometimes long enough for them to be out past dinner.

It just feels right.

It feels right the same way she feels content that the books he ends up lending her do reveal quite a lot about his character. It feels right the same way he feels like every extra day they spend together, even if they are discussing the most trivial of things, she burrows a little deeper into his defenses. She devours every single title he passes on, Hosseini, Pratchett, Heiligman, Stone, no matter how long the book is, no matter how complicated it seems—and he lets his heart rest in every collection she hands him, Plath, Lorde, Angelou, Thomas, Lawrence.

Every book an opened door.

Every word just the littlest millimeter closer.

Take, for example, the time they began talking about The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Shaffer and Barrows, which was lent by Theo, and the conversation went:

“Okay, but you have to agree that there’s nothing quite like a hand-written letter. It hits different. Regular messages and calls are great, of course, but the idea that time and energy was lent to writing down a letter? Peak romance.”

Theo nods. “The personality in the handwriting.”

“Oh, definitely!” she nods. “And eventually you’ll be able to tell their emotions based on how their handwriting is a little different—something like the psychology of handwriting?”

“To me personally, it’s the hand-made nature that makes letters appealing.”

“Yes! The craft of it! The fact that the ink and the paper, and that it’s both visual and literary—” she emphasizes this with the classic chef’s kiss; pinching her thumb and index finger and kissing them away.

They talk about the most trivial of things, they talk about the deepest of things. Conversations shift from gossip to philosophy, from the news to deep fantasy. The Rooftop becomes theirs, becomes the little space they inhabit on campus where they can shake the wings of their little bond together out wide.

Of course, they could very well invite their other friends into this little book club of theirs; Arthur is pretty well-read; it will be easy to drag Dazai out if Arthur is involved; Isaac could budge with some convincing; but—

They just know that with each other, it’s different.

Like that time Theo arrives first at the Rooftop, and she manages to sneak up on him without him noticing, as he was so deep in his thoughts; she had caught him writing on his journal in his elegant script, and she had nearly yelled into his ear because of how surprised she was.

“A fellow connoisseur!” she says, sitting immediately next to him on the bench table, bumping shoulders; Theo is pulling his fountain pen away from the page to avoid marking on it. “Here I was being teased for writing in cursive for being old fashioned, and you’re out here doing the same!”

“I’ve never teased you for writing in cursive,” Theo insists, flashbacking through every book log he’d made her sign in the bookshop.

She nods excitedly. “I know! I thought you were just being nice, but it’s so cool to see you do it too!” She beams. “There’s a required hand-written portion in the test by the OSR and they required to write in print, and I was so sad… what about all my loopy L’s…”

“I like it because it’s convenient, not pretty,” Theo says with a frown.

“That’s because you already have gorgeous handwriting,” she quips. “And of course, you write with a fountain pen. Just the right amount of bougie for a business major.”

“Excuse me?”

One book after another, one Saturday into the next. It doesn’t matter that she’s at the bookshop twice a week, that they see each other even outside of this space; when they’re up here, they are different people. They are more similar people. They go around the world sitting at the Rooftop exchanging stories. They switch Antoine de Saint-Exupéry for Emily Dickinson; Murakami Haruki for Richard Siken; Phillip Williams for Alexander Solzhenitsyn.

She talks about the astronomy club, admits how at the beginning her only reason for joining was because she wanted to get access to the rooftop, and now, how much more she’s gotten out of it. He talks about the business club and how the snobbier members had pushed him out of active membership. She talks about her childhood, the familiar streets of the city below, all she’s ever known. He talks about Vincent and the younger years, living out in the country, running around in rye fields dreaming of the future.

The two of them are friends.

Unlikely, maybe, and at first maybe at least a little bit unwilling, but—they are now. And who would have imagined that one little invitation from Vincent to do some modeling in his little apartment would lead to this? To whispers about Anna Karenina. To plans to going to the post office to check out their most beautiful postcards—to send them to each other, if only in the spirit of it. To hiding away from the rest of the busy university when the rest of the world is too loud.

To muse about the future that seems too far out, to feel like it is close enough to grasp.

And as one season seeps into the next and Theo walking her home to her dormitory’s doorstep with her book in his hands just becomes normal, the vaguest twinkle of a thought shimmers in both their minds for the briefest of moments.

They just don’t catch it yet.

It is late November when the official administrative instructions for Dragon’s Hoard’s closures for the holiday seasons come into Arthur’s and Theo’s inboxes.

The email also delightfully includes the details about their holiday pay.

Dragon’s Hoard is a small bookshop, sure, but it is still owned by one of the richer, old-money families of the city, so of course, the employees get a sizable 13th-month pay at the end of the year. But not only that—they’re also eligible for a bit of holiday pay. A lot of things come into the computation of it, as far as they’re concerned—the state of the economy, the year’s average revenue from the bookshop, just about how nice their boss is feeling this year—so it varies, but this year…

This year, Saint-Germain took it up a notch.

Maybe even two.

Arthur whistles as he reads the email, staring at the multiple digits itemizing what they’ll receive soon. “How does this man make money, why does it seem like he never runs out?”

Theo puts down the fresh stock of books onto the counter for sorting. He hasn’t been on his phone since his shift started, because he likes to wave a bit of moral superiority over Arthur out of pettiness. “Bonus kicked in?”

“Kicked hard,” Arthur says, flashing his phone screen to Theo. “Check that out.”

Theo catches the numbers and does the math quickly in his head. When one is saving up for something, every tiny bit counts. He had intended to put the entirety of his bonus onto the money he was putting aside, but with this amount…

“That’s a lot,” is all he can say. The bookshop has been operating as per usual throughout the year, and with the spreadsheets, there hadn’t been a huge leap of income either…

“I guess if your last name is Saint-Germain, you’re probably rich as balls,” Arthur comments, taking his phone back again to check the email one more time to make sure he didn’t dream that up. “But he probably gets something out of this too.”

“Charity work, maybe, against his taxes.”

“Probably.”

And if Arthur had any sense of self-preservation, he would have stopped there. Would have kept his phone in his pocket and dropped the conversation altogether, returning to the hum of tasks left in the bookshop for today. But would Arthur really be Arthur if he didn’t live to put himself in harm’s way for the amusement of it?

So, he slides up against Theo and asks, “So where are you spending the money?”

Theo’s eyebrow twitches. “Vincent,” is his short reply. And that should already say it all, but—

“No Christmas gift for the missus? You know, there’s only so much dates can do, sometimes you got to give a little bling, before—”

Arthur wins mercy from Theo’s punch by promising him free lunch.

“Dazai, I’m not pursuing him,” she sighs. “That’s not the right verb.”

“Oh? Then what should it be? Are you ‘courting’ him?”

The two of them are sitting across each other at the café Vincent works in, each with a book in hand. Dazai doesn’t seem too interested in reading the Japanese translation of Pride and Prejudice.

He closes the small bound book, bookmark already in place. He has that knowing smile on his face that lets her know she’s already lost before the battle’s even begun. “Toshiko-san, you can’t keep telling me one thing and then showing the world another.”

When she first spotted Dazai across the café earlier today, at the start of her break in-between classes, she thought it might not be too bad to stay with him until her next lecture begins, for some wholesome, literary students bonding time. Besides, reading next to each other has always been their way of hanging out anyway—very stereotypical of them.

She should have figured out that she is transparent to her best friend and just being next to each other with unsaid things clouding her mind would eventually lead to conversations she doesn’t want to have yet.

It’s just her luck that it’s worth it to be in Dazai’s company.

She closes her own book shut. Gabriel Garcia Marquez can wait. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know why you guys keep insisting that there is something more in between us when there isn’t.”

“I haven’t seen you get so worked up about maintaining a book exchange.”

“Hey, we did that too!”

“Not for long,” Dazai notes, and he’s right. They did, at some point, the summer before, the one they spent together after neither of them decided to go home for the extended holiday. They tore through two books, sometimes more, a week, for a month, until—well, they decided to do something else.

She shakes her head. “They’re just books.”

“The books, the dare,” he counts with his slender fingers, “you have to take responsibility sometimes, you know? You don’t need to blame anyone else for your own actions.”

She huffs as she drops her book into her bag unceremoniously. “You are blowing things out of proportion.”

“Then there’s the Rooftop, and the Halloween date, and—”

“Oh would you look at the time,” she says, standing up suddenly from her chair, the tips of her ears red, her voice’s loudness near comical as other customers from every direction turn toward her—“I’m going to be late for class if I don’t go now, I’ll see you soon, Osamu!”

Dazai smiles and waves goodbye even if he knows her next class isn’t in an hour.

The weather is unforgiving outside, and the entire horizon white with snow, the breeze bordering unpleasant. The two of them have a back-and-forth of switching places today: maybe at the Little Owl, or the cafeteria at the university’s main library, maybe even at the van Gogh’s house, but—

They find themselves at the Rooftop anyway.

Today, they’ve swapped J. Neil Garcia with Ursula K. Le Guin, and after an interesting exchange about identity, self, and the importance of fantasy in imagining what else one can become, they’re sitting across each other on a table, nursing what’s left of their vending machine hot drinks.

The question pops out of her mouth so suddenly, even she has a look of surprise after she’s said it.

“Does Arthur ask you about this, too?”

Theo puts down his paper cup of coffee. “About what?”

“About this,” she says, making a gesture at the both of them. “You know, our little book exchange. Hanging out on Saturdays. Does he make a big deal out of it?”

“When he’s being a bastard,” Theo answers quickly. “Is he bothering you?”

“No! No.” She shakes her head, smiling at him reassuringly. “I was more curious if it bothers you.”

“Why would it bother me?”

The question is simple, but Theo watches as her face contorts in some sort of confusion. Sure, Arthur being his usual unfunny joker can get on his nerves, but the teasing doesn’t bother him in the way he knows she is asking about. Not when he knows what’s really going on.

Or he thinks he knows.

“Doesn’t he make this a bigger deal than it is?”

“He does.”

Unease mixed into her genuine curiosity: “That doesn’t bother you?”

Theo doesn’t like that expression on her. “Would you rather I more firmly correct him?”

The smile finally returns to her face as she playfully hits him on the arm. “No, I know what you mean by ‘firmly’. He’s like that but Arthur’s still my friend, you know.”

“You know he deserves it.”

“He does, but still.” The smile doesn’t go away and relief fills Theo’s veins. He’s not used to seeing her so upset. It only reminds him of the one time he messed up after the Halloween party. “I’m glad it doesn’t, though. I thought we’d have to… I don’t know, tone it down, or something.”

Theo knows one thing and that it is always more than with her—even when he doesn’t understand quite what it is. Instead, he says, “They’re free to misunderstand however they want.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah, you’re right.”

For some moments, they are quiet. They’ve shared so many silences that they’ve learned when it’s the silence that’s fine in being empty, and the silences where something is being phrased, ordered, prepared, like the way an inhale does before an exhale. Theo knows this is the latter.

So he waits.

What he does hear after, though, is not anything he’s expecting.

“You know, Theo, I don’t think I’ve ever really heard about what you want to do with your life.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, bored. “It’s not anything interesting.”

“Try me?”

Theo doesn’t know what to tell her at all. Instead, he looks down at the town below, out the window, making out the shapes of houses through the blanket of white. He no longer knows where his dreams end and where his delusions begin. It’s not that he hadn’t toyed with the options—curating, working for a museum, art dealership—but nothing has really caught him. Not when he has something more urgent at hand.

After what seems like an infinite number of moments, he answers: “I want to see Vincent flourish as an artist.”

Silence.

The lack of reaction causes him to turn back at her. “What? Not going to laugh?”

“What?” she blinks. “No, no, I’m not laughing. That’s actually pretty sweet of you.”

“Stop. I’ve had enough brother complex jokes from Arthur.”

“No, that’s not—oh my god, he’s right, holy shit.” She stifles a laugh onto her sleeve. He glares at her, but it only makes her laugh harder. “Haha, wait, no, relax. I was going to say something serious.”

He raises an eyebrow, daring her to continue. She clears her throat.

“That’s a dream about Vincent, though. And while I respect it—I want to hear about yours.”

“That is my dream,” Theo insists. “Everything that happens past that is a bonus.”

She shakes her head. “No, no, that’s definitely not it. There has to be something you want to do for yourself, right?”

Theo has half a heart to wish that he’s built enough of a persona in her head that a little version of him in her mind answers that’s none of your business for him. Because it’s not right, it’s not entirely right, so he can’t tell that to her, but he can’t tell her either.

He isn’t like her. She’s a rocketship pointed at the open Milky Way with directions and a path coded right into her system.

He doesn’t even have a trajectory.

Just lost in orbit, an astronaut detached from their mission, breathing on oxygen that’s running out.

He doesn’t get to say anything.

But because she is who she is in that laser-piercing way Theo can’t sometimes stand, she says, instead, softly, her voice so gentle it sounds like she is offering Theo a flower made out of snowflakes: “He’d want you to pursue your own little happiness too, you know?”

He closes his eyes in response to this—like blocking out one sense would make this all easier to push away. And when he answers, his voice sounds hoarse, like he’s been screaming. “I have no dream,” he says, simply. There’s a space at the end of it that lingers, one that could be filled with yet or anymore. It weighs a million tons.

And in return, she beams at him like the sun, reaching out to pull at his cheek that it makes his eyes fly open.

“Wet gow—"

“We’ll find you one, stupid,” she answers, ever so certainly. “Make that your current dream! To find one, you know?”

And no, Theo doesn’t know. Theo doesn’t really have feelings about this anymore, except that he wants to do his best for Vincent. Maybe one day there will be a dream. But not now. Maybe one day. He takes a sip out of the hot coffee from the paper cup, and it takes like the cheap vending machine drink it actually is, but—

He holds in his heart that maybe she’s right—and somehow, the thought makes the coffee just a little bit better.

A few days later, Theo hums under his breath as he flips the pancake he’s currently cooking in the kitchen. Because Saint-Germain respects that people buy holiday presents in advance, he and Arthur have finally gotten their holiday pay in. And this morning, the bank statement’s updated and the cheque has cleared: the amount is fully deposited in his account, and now there are no takebacks.

This is really, really happening.

He hears a yawn coming from down the hall and out comes Vincent, fresh from the studio. His hands are stained with paint in varying degrees of dry, and he’s bringing with him two clear glasses: one muddied with paint water, the other with the remnants of pulp from orange juice. Theo hopes there was no incident of switched glasses last night—that was not a fun experience last time.

Vincent places the glasses on the sink nearby and hovers around his younger brother. “Pancakes?” He smiles. “Something good happen to you?”

“Yeah, really good,” Theo says, unable to hide his excitement. He slides the cooked pancake on top of another on a waiting plate, and hands it to Vincent with a grin. “I can’t wait for you to hear about it, broer. Eggs?”

“Please, and over easy,” Vincent answers, taking the plate with him, off to set their little dining table. “Is this about you finally dating?”

Theo nearly crushes the egg in his hand. “What?”

“It’s not?” Vincent is sincerely shocked. “I was sure it was. You sounded so happy.”

“You know I don’t have time for that.” Theo huffs. Nearly puts too much salt. He prods at the egg with a little more force than required.

Coming back to the kitchen for utensils and a carton of juice, Vincent ruffles his brother’s hair gently. “You’re always working too hard, it’s not bad to entertain those kinds of things sometimes, you know?”

Theo flips the egg. The oil crackles loudly like his denial. “There’s nothing to entertain,” he insists, as Vincent slips back to the table. “You don’t have to worry about that, broer.”

“Okay.” Vincent sits at the table. He pretends to not see right through Theo. “So, what’s gotten you in such a good mood?”

“My holiday paycheck came in the other day, and the boss was extra generous with the bonus this year,” Theo begins, cracking another egg over the pan. Stirs it gently to make a nice, scrambled egg. He’s so used to domestic life with his brother, for a moment the idea of him going away flashes in his mind with a jolt of fear. He shakes it away as he taps some salt over the pan. “Went to the bank yesterday, and it reflected today.”

“Nothing’s better than a good holiday bonus, yeah?” Vincent says, smiling in support. “I got a good bit too. Might be enough to get a good new easel.”

“Great timing,” Theo says, a soft smile on his face. Turns off the fire, puts the egg on the plate, and nearly rushes in excitement to his brother on the table. (Not without coming back for the maple syrup in the fridge, of course, because who eats pancakes without it?)

Vincent faces the table properly to begin to eat breakfast, but before he even gets to reach for his fork and knife, Theo has his hands in his.

“Great timing, because you’ll need the easel. At the current rate, I’m just going to need to work for two more full months… and we might be able to rent a decent space with the amount we’ve been saving up for an exhibit.” Theo has stars in his eyes. He hasn’t been this excited in years. His dream has always been to be the wind underneath his brother’s wings—letting him fly. That was all he ever wanted. He can think of himself some other time. This time, this is for Vincent. And here they are: so close to it.

Vincent smiles at Theo, beams, “That’s great! Congratulations!” but pulls his hands away anyway. Like he touched something hot. He clears his throat and turns to his plate. “Let’s eat.”

For a moment, Theo furrows his eyebrows at his brother’s reaction, but then lets it go.

It doesn’t occur to him until much later that he shouldn’t have.

#the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo

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dontatmethanks · 4 years ago

Note

You have no idea what you've triggered: -astronauts AU -zombie apocalypse AU -00 agents M.I.6 -Conflict with Marley resolved -dying together -Hogwarts Houses AU -becoming handicapped -fatal illness -quarantined together -Modern Military AU -Dragon riders/ being dragons themselves -Batman AU/ Marvel

Staying Alive- (zombie apocalypse AU/ becoming handicapped)

— (also posted on AO3)-

•

She was in idiot.

An absolute fucking moron- and if anyone were to say it to her face at this very moment she would wholeheartedly agree.

Hange cursed lowly under her breath as she clutched her battered wooden baseball bat to her chest tightly. Her chest was heaving, partly from exhaustion, adrenaline and fear. You see the twenty-four year old brunette was in a predicament that will determine wether or not she would live. Her and her group of survivors were on a supply run, the plan was to infiltrate a superstore that was near their base and collect whatever they could carry without weighing themselves down if they needed to flee quickly.

It was simple enough right?- A quick get in and get out?...Oh how they were very wrong.

Everything was going well at first for the five of them, Hange, Levi, Mike, Nanaba and Erwin. They took the van that they managed to start a week ago to the superstore, strapped with their weapons and bags they managed to pick off the few walkers that were ambling around outside before quickly slipping inside.

They decided to split up since the superstore was two floors- which was probably their first mistake, but at the moment it seemed like a good idea to cover more ground. Mike and Nanaba took the second floor and Levi, Hange and Erwin took the first floor. Hange immediately made a beeline for the pharmacy which happened to be near a food court area, while Erwin and Levi took to looking for any sort of tactical gear or weapons, Mike and Nanaba went for toiletries and food.

Hange quickly made her way over to the pharmacy with a bit of a pep in her step, swinging her wooden bat in her hand as she walked. The bespeckled brunette had to hop over the counter since the gate to get behind it was locked.

She slung her backpack off and started to sort through the medication that was left, mainly dumping antibiotics, painkillers and sleeping pills into her bag; all the while she was humming lowly to herself in deep concentration.

Everything seemed to be going fine…until she was pulled from her thoughts by the sudden sound of growls. Hange froze and made her way towards the counter to check her surroundings and immediately ducked behind it once she saw a horde of walkers coming from the food court area and shuffling their way over. The brunette pressed her back against the counter with widened eyes and tried to make as little noise as possible. Big brown eyes scanned the back area of the pharmacy to see that there was no exit and mentally cursed before peeking over the counter to see that it was now completely surrounded by walkers who groaned and growled while snapping their rotting teeth at the air. She ducked back down and clutched her bat tightly to her chest as she cursed herself once more.

Fucking idiot- there was no way she could signal the others with bringing any attention to herself, she had no idea where they were at this point.

With a shuddering breath, Hange willed herself to calm down so she could think of a way to get herself out of this predicament. Glancing around she weighed out all the variables; a hoard of walkers were blocking her only exit, she only had a bat to defend herself, and the others presumably didn’t know what was happening. She nodded to herself and glanced over at the metal racks that held the various bottles and boxes of medication, letting her eyes trail down, she noticed that they were not bolted to the floor and suddenly it was like a light bulb went off in her head.

The woman took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before grabbing her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder, and quickly crawled over to the racks. Looking over at the horde, she mentally crossed her fingers that her plan would work before grabbing onto one of the racks and pulling it towards her and effectively causing it to tip over. Hange quickly rolled away so it wouldn’t crush her, and watched as it made a loud crash against another rack which teetered and slammed against the wall it was facing. The mess she made attracted the walkers but also created a blockade between her and them, she also hoped and prayed that the noise would at least notify Levi and Erwin.

—

Levi was at the camping section of the store, which was not too far from the pharmacy. He had managed to find a few cheap flashlights and first aid kits, as well as a pack of hunting knives. After stuffing all his finds into his backpack he ran into Erwin as he exited the camping area.

“Find anything good?” The blonde asked and he nodded.

“You?” Erwin nodded as well.

“Was able to find some walkies, maybe we can find some radio channels to see if there’s any updates.”

Levi hummed in agreement as he looked around. “Where the fuck is four-eyes?”

Erwin blinked and glanced around before opening his mouth, when suddenly there was a loud deafening crash that caused both men to stiffen in their spots.

“What-“

“That was was coming from the direction of the pharmacy..” Erwin mumbled, and Levi didn’t need to be told any more for him to bolt towards the pharmacy with the blonde hot on his heels.

“Levi, hold on-“ Erwin called out to the shorter man as he rounded a corner and was met with the sight of a sizable horde of walkers that surrounded the pharmacy, some even managed to climb over the counter. Levi’s heart froze at the sight and Erwin had to drag him back behind the corner himself. The raven struggled and pushed at him in an attempt to go look for Hange.

“Let go of me you fucking ape- Hange said she’d be over here!” His face was flushed in anger, his steel colored eyes were wild and frantic and his nostrils flared. But Erwin wasn’t phased by this, he knew Levi long enough to know how to calm him down.

“Levi- Alright, Levi, calm down. I know she said she’d be here but Hange is smarter than a bunch of mindless undead bodies, give her the credit. For know we have to avert their attention from the pharmacy in case she’s in there.”

Levi blinked and let himself calm down before nodding. “…Okay, alright. Let’s do that.”

Erwin gave him a reassuring grin and clasped his shoulder firmly. “After you.”

The raven’s thin dark brows furrowed as he squared his shoulders and whipped out his combat knife before rounding the corner and yelling out to the horde and banging on the nearest wall.

“Oi! Over here you ugly fucks!”

Erwin joined him, pounded on the wall and yelled out at the top of his lungs, his big booming baritone voice bouncing off of Levi’s. The two of them easily gathered the attention of the horde, they turned and started shuffling towards the them, some limping, crawling and dragging their feet as they snapped their teeth at them. Levi immediately went to town on them, slashing stabbing and bashing their skulls in with the speed of a cheetah, while being as lethal as striking cobra. Erwin followed suit, being a powerhouse himself, he used an axe to split open their skulls as if they were just a bunch of coconuts.

—

Hange remained in a sitting position on the floor as she waited, keeping her body tightly curled up into a ball and pressed against the furthest wall so none of the walkers who poked their arms and heads through the small gaps of the barricade could grab a part of her. The brunette kept herself calm by reciting different formulas in her head that she’d remembered from her days in her college laboratory before the world went to shit.

“Formic acid…methanol…Ben-“ she froze when she suddenly heard yelling and banging.

Straining her ears she perked up and sat up on her knees to peer through the rails of the barricade. The banging and yelling became louder when another booming voice joined in and she immediately knew who the belonged to. She let out a relived laugh and a beaming smile when she saw that the horde was dispersing away from the pharmacy.

“Knew it..” Hange muttered and gripped her bat in determination, swinging at the heads of the few walkers that were left before climbing over the barricade and hopping over the counter. She continued to swing and batter more walkers, not minding the back splatter of blood that rained onto her face and clothes, Levi would bitch about it later but she’d happily listen to it rather than being eaten alive by any of these fuckers.

“Hey shorty! Eyebrows! It’s about time you guys showed up!” The woman called out as she swung once more and let her bat connect with a walker’s skull with a wet crack.

As soon as Levi heard Hange’s voice, he almost melted with relief, but he didn’t stop picking off the walkers that came at them. He spotted the bespeckled brunette a few feet away, bashing away at the undead with a maniacal grin spread onto her bloodied face. Without thinking twice he pushed his way to her, beating and slicing away. He didn’t even flinch when a few spurts of blood splattered onto his cheek when he pulled his blade free from a skull

“Hange!” He called out and she met his gaze, waving at him happily.

“Levi!-“ Her doe eyes widened when Erwin yelled his name and Levi was suddenly jumped by a walker who grabbed him by his hair and shoulder and yanked him back to try to bite at his neck. The raven grunted and flipped his blade around in his hand, plunging it backwards into the eye-socket of the walker. He pulled it out and let the body hit the floor and stumbled back before being attacked again, this time by two of them. Hange called out to him and fought her way over. She managed to yank one of them off of him and ram her bat through its skull. The brunette whirled around to see Levi wrestling against two more, one of them managed to get a strong grip onto his arm, the one that was holding his blade, and imbedded its rotting chiseled teeth into the skin of his forearm.

“No!” Hange screamed in horror and smashed her bat against the skull of the walker who bit Levi, she didn’t stop there, once it fell she straddled its body and beat at its head in fury, getting bits of brain matter and shards of skull onto her clothes and hair.

Erwin emerged from that last of the walkers, followed by Mike and Nanaba who were also covered in walker bits and blood, he ran over to Levi who was kneeling next the floor in shock as he stared as the bite mark on his arm.

The blonde didn’t think twice with his decision. “Hange, hold him down!.”

Hange blinked and scrambled to her feet, glancing at Levi’s arm and then tearfully glancing at Erwin.

“I-..” Her voice failed her and her legs trembled beneath her, she couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Mike suddenly pushed past them and slammed Levi into a laying position on the floor, effectively holding him down.

“What the fuck-“ Levi’s usually emotionless eyes widened in shock as he tried to break free. “The hell are you doing?!”

“Wait Mike, Erwin! What are you doing?!” Hange shrieked and moved for help Levi but was held back by Nanaba who whispered comfortingly to her as she cried.

“It’s okay, it’s alright- Hange.”

Erwin kneeled down beside Levi who glared up at him, the blonde could tell he was afraid , he usually lashed out violently when he was scared.

“Erwin you fucker-“ The taller man didn’t even give him a chance to finish, he kept his face hard as he cleaned off his axe and held Levi’s bitten arm out, raising the axe into the air and striking it down hard into the juncture of his elbow. Once, twice was enough to separate the infected part of his arm clean off. The scream the was ripped out of Levi made everyone wince, Hange clamped her hand over her mouth as she collapsed onto her knees.

“Hange, we need you!” Erwin called out to her as he pulled out a bottle of alcohol from his backpack and unscrewed it before pouring a generous amount over Levi’s gaping wound. He muttered numerous apologies as the raven growled and groaned in pain, eyelids fluttering as his eyes rolled back.

“No- Levi, stay with us!!” The blonde shouted and slapped at Levi’s face. It was enough to get the shorter man to grunt and refocus his eyes towards the ceiling.

“I-I’m fine..ngh.” He muttered weakly, pale face contorting under all the pain.

Hange dropped at his side and unzipped her back pack. “I need a-a medkit or- or-“ Erwin thrust Levi’s backpack at her and continued to assist Mike with keeping him still. The brunette practically ripped into the bag to pull out the kit and started to work quickly to wrap what was left of Levi’s arm up so he wouldn’t bleed all over the place.

“I-I’ll- “ She paused to swallow thickly and let out a shuddering exhale. “I’ll have to cauterize the wound properly back at our base, but for know this will do.”

Erwin nodded and got up to his feet. “Aright everyone to the van, let’s get him home, we got what we needed.” He then proceeded to lift Levi onto his feet with Mike’s help, and guided him towards the exit. Hange and Nanaba followed after them with the bags.

Once everyone was piled into the van, Erwin peeled out of the driveway and headed back to their base. Mike sat in the front with him and Hange, Levi and Nanaba were in the back. The injured ravenette was being supported by Hange with his head resting on her shoulder, groaning in pain every time he was jostled. The brunette ran her hand through his sweat dampened hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“You’re going to be okay Levi, I promise…” she whispered into his ear as she reached into her backpack and pulled out a water bottle and a searched for a bottle of painkillers and antibiotics. After reading the labels she poured out a couple of the tablets into her hand while trying not to jostle Levi too much.

“Here, come on, you need to take these.” Hange urged him and pressed the medication into his hand. He obeyed and dropped them all into his mouth without complaint before taking the water bottle she offered him and chugging them down.

“Good job, you’re doing good.” She praised him as she took the now half empty bottle back and put it away.

“Don’t..fucking baby me shitty glasses..” Levi grumbled weakly as he rested his head once more on her shoulder.

“I know, I know- I’m sorry..” she whispered and glanced out the window as they drove back home. —

Hange sighed as she cleaned up her utensils and wiped up the blood that was left on the table that they used for the cauterizing session that they did on Levi. She managed to do the procedure quickly and without any hiccups, and now Levi was wrapped up in bed asleep with the help of a few sleeping pills.

Once she finished cleaning up the mess, she let herself collapse onto a chair and stared up at the ceiling.

“You did good.”

Hange rolled her head forward to glance up at Erwin who leaned against the doorway , she hummed in response. He turned to leave but she stopped him with her next words.

“I thought you were going to kill him back there…for a quick fleeting second I thought you were going to kill him.”

The blonde stood there quietly with his back facing her for a minute before taking a deep breath and turning to face her.

“I did what I thought was best, he might hate me for it later but I’ll live with it. I’d never be able to forgive myself if I let him become like those things.”

She nodded slowly and sighed. “Neither could I..”

Erwin walked over to Hange and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and a pat. “Go to him, get some rest, he’s gonna need to see your face when he wakes up.”

When the brunette nodded and got up he said a goodnight before walking of rocks his own room. Hange made her way over to the room her and Levi both shared and slipped in quietly. He was deeply asleep on the bed where she left him, the covers were tucked in comfortably around him and his bandaged hand rested above them. Slowly, the bespeckled woman removed her soiled clothes and changed into just an old baggy t-shirt, before letting her hair down and removing her glasses. After changing she made sure to wash her face one more time for good measure before carefully slipping into bed next to Levi.

Hange let herself watch him sleep for a moment, he would almost look dead if it wasn’t for the telltale sign of his chest slowly rising and falling as he breathed softly. Blinking away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, she gently stoked his pale cheek. This caused the raven to stiffen ever so slightly, before relaxing and nuzzling his face into her hand. She chuckled softly pressed her lips to his forehead, holding him close while being wary of his injury.

“..you won’t be alone okay? I’ll help you through this, I promise.” Hange whispered mostly to herself as she raked her lithe fingers through his inky locks, soothing him with her touch as he slept.

“You’ll be okay, we’ll be okay..”

-END-

#i hope you like it!#i combined two since i couldnt pick just one #thanks for the request!#ask prompt #prompt fic #levihan fic #levihan #aot #levi ackerman #snk #attack on titan #hange zoe #shingeki no kyojin #hanji zoe #levi x hanji #levi x hange

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milk-is-here · 5 years ago

Text

Secrets in the brush

The plane ride to this continent took almost a full day, the car ride to the city we would be staying in too the rest. Thankfully, amidst my gazing out the window of the plane I got a nap, leaving me wide awake to take photos of the environment on the way to the city. After a night at the hotel and some chatting with the locals, my team and I set out to explore the rural area around us.

The flora was lush and thick, we went around what we could and used our machetes for what we couldnt bypass. The locals had warned us time and time again not to go looking in any caves, 'its taboo' they said. Well, lucky for me, I love everything taboo, strikes my curiosity aflame like a spark to dry tinder. My team also reminded me several times about the warnings, hoping that I'd at least listen to them. Heh, I'm not giving up a chance discovery.

As my team continued through the brush, I spotted a semi clear path leading sideways and up the hill we were descending. Smirking to myself I waited for my team to move further down before quietly making my way toward the path. As I went the foliage became even thicker than before, but I wasnt deterred. All great discoveries have a tough road.

I got to the opening of the cave, seeing slight glitters in the walls. Smiling with excitement, I quickly went inside, turning on a dull flashlight to not disturb anything that might be ahead. As I went further, the glittering became more intense, large crystals beginning to protrude from the cave walls. Taking a few photos, I quickly realised my camera storage was full. Content with the pictures I figured I could just come back with another roll for my personal use.

Putting my camera in my bag, I took a sip of water from my cantine before continuing my trek further into the cave. The gems seemed to glow with their own light, leading me to turn my flashlight off to experience the raw beauty. Going farther still, the sparkles once again started to dim, and my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cave. The walls started to spread out and become wider, suggesting a large chamber was ahead. I grinned and sped up, curious as to what could be hidden in these 'taboo' wonders.

As I came up to the chamber, I was almost blinded by the tremendous golden light that filled the room. Looking to the ceiling I noticed there was a sizable hole that let sunlight filter through. Looking again to the blinding gold, I noticed that that was in fact what it was. Gold! I stared in amazement at the massive pile, noticing some jewels and fancy accessories strung throughout the pile of coins and golden items.

Deep within my reverie I didnt hear the shift of the coin pile, nor see the hulking mass as it rose high above me. It wasnt until the head of said mass lowered itself into my vision that I realized I wasnt here alone.

Looking at the scale covered head now in my peripheral, my eyes widened even further in awe. Sleek scales that outshone the hoard stretched over powerful muscle, elegant horns extending from its head. Its eyes, a dazzling amber, gazed deep into my own.

Cautiously, I raised my hand slowly, reaching out toward the creature. It let out a puff of warm air through its snout before slowly extending its head to press its nose into my hand. Elation filled my entire being, an ecstatic smile stretching across my features.

"Hello..."

I whispered in wonder. The locals definitely had a secret, and I was lucky enough to go searching for it.

#dragons #exploring #birdy writes

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sepublic · 5 years ago

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Vuata Maca

The legendary tree itself, the biggest in all of Okoto by the largest margin, and said to be the first tree in existence, planted by Uxar herself. Although Okotans had already lived in its branches prior to the Great Cataclysm, the arrival of the Skull Spiders caused all Okotans living in the Region of Jungle to congregate in its massive, overhanging branches.

Its primary defense against the Skull Spiders is its massive girth and shape. The Vuata Maca consists, essentially, of massive, underground roots, followed by its colossal trunk, which is hundreds of feet wide, and the branches above that spread outward, housing its inhabitants. In order to access said inhabitants, the flightless Skull Spiders are forced to climb up the trunk, forcing them into a general area that defenders can keep track of and fire on, with gravity helping pull down the Skull Spiders. The Vuata Maca is able to recover quickly from the scars made by the Skull Spiders.

Towering over the Region of Jungle, the Vuata Maca’s roots allow it to access nutrients across the entirety of the region, and it was these massive roots that kept it from being uprooted by the Great Cataclysm. Some theorize that the jungle energy hoarded within the Mask of Life released itself in the direction of the Vuata Maca because it was attracted by such a powerful object of nature.

Regardless of whether or not this reason is valid, the Vuata Maca is able to supply more than just protection from the Skull Spiders, as its massive branches often have homes carved into them, or else built atop them from its wood, and even hanging from them. Sprouting from the Vuata Maca’s branches are gardens of flowers and its nutritious fruits, and the tree has wells of delicious sap that can also be mixed in with other ingredients to create a powerful glue, a commodity frequently distributed across Okoto. As a result of its high elevation, the Vuata Maca’s branches are also home to the Gukko, a species of massive, flying bird with intelligence, strong enough to carry multiple Okotans upon its back. Years of living atop the same tree of caused Macans and Gukko to grow an almost sacred kinship and bond.

Due to the ease from which resources can be acquired, the Macans are fairly egalitarian, mostly getting what they desire by trading with one another. Outside items, such as the lush flora and exotic fauna below, is gathered and distributed by the Gukko Airforce, contributing to a massive economic system first started by Lein, a Macan of many generations ago who flew atop his Gukko to aid other Okotans following the Skull Spider emergence. Due to the Gukko Airforce’s abilities to traverse across all of Okoto, flying above any Skull Spiders, interaction and trade between the tribes has been achieved. The Gukko Airforce is practically the foundation of the Okotan economy, with the Vuata Maca being the hub for all of Okoto’s trading and commerce.

Due to its powerful trading system, the Vuata Maca is comprised of many traders, and its location in the Region of Jungle allows it to host several hanging gardens, making most of the Macans related to gardening and agriculture as well. Markets are a frequent sight and visit. Members of the Gukko Airforce gather plants and occasionally hunt, with Macans being primarily vegetarian. Every Macan knows how to traverse the tree villages, becoming excellent climbers and jumpers, and rope bridges link buildings to one another. For the easily lost or new, several maps, provided by the Gukko Airforce, are dotted amongst the branches to help Macans navigate the Vuata Maca.

The Macans are fairly egalitarian thanks to the ease of which resources are available, making them occasionally envied by other Okotans. This egalitarian system means that there isn’t much of a ruling council, as everyone tends to look out for themselves. To resolve conflicts, most Macans look to the Protector of Jungle, Vizuna, who is the final say in these matters. As Protector, Vizuna is also tasked with ensuring that traders don’t abuse their power or try to hoard resources, although this thankfully is a rare occurrence.

There are many Macans. One particular group is the Gukko Airforce. Generations ago, in response to the formation of Mega Villages to shelter Okotans from the Skull Spiders, the Protector of Jungle at the time, Jagiri, needed a way to contact the other Protectors. A Macan by the name of Lein volunteered with his own solution, as he himself had managed to befriend a Gukko that he used to fly about. He offered to fly across Okoto, untouched by the flightless, ground-bound Skull Spiders, and act as a messenger and transport between the Mega Villages.

With approval from Jagiri, Lein flew around the island, avoiding the Skull Spiders below as he and his Gukko steed delivered messages, information, and plans, helping Jagiri coordinate with the other Protectors. Lein’s efforts allowed him to keep the Mega Villages in contact with one another, and as his journeys continued, others began to request him to bring them certain items from places they themselves could not access, even offering payment. Lein, of course, accepted these offers and complied by these requests, delighting many as he brought foreign, new things for Okotans to look at.

As time passed, Lein realized that he had inadvertently established a trading system, and inspired, he helped teach others to ride upon their Gukko and fly about Okoto. This group worked with Lein to help keep contact between the Mega Villages, with many running their own trading operations. With Lein leading these operations, the group, dubbed the Gukko Airforce, helped establish a trading system and economy amongst the Okotans, something that would have been otherwise impossible thanks to the seclusion forced by the Skull Spiders.

Despite being one of Okoto’s great heroes for the way he allowed everyone to survive, Lein and his steed were not granted a happy ending. He and other Airforce members attempted to fly into airspace previous unexplored, over darker, ancient ruins, such as Destral and the City of the Mask Makers- And they never returned. Unbeknownst to them, Makuta had created counter-measures that patrolled the sky, keeping the Gukko Airforce from accessing certain areas and prohibiting their travel to certain safe lanes. Those that attempted to fly over the City of the Mask Makers would be shot down by the Skull Warriors, the Kal.

Despite this, the Gukko Airforce continued its operations, eventually acting as the defenders of Vuata Maca, using their aerial advantage against the ascending Skull Spiders, and coordinating with the crew of the Aqua Magna into combating the swarms.

Various Macans make their homes in the branches of the Vuata Maca, whom some even worship. For example is Kumo, a crafter and carver who specializes in making throwing disks and other objects, and helps trade in sports-related goods. Kumo likes to keep track and tally of all of the games and sports across Okoto, from the feats of Hewkii the Kolhii champion, to Kopeke, master of the Huai Snowball Sling. Kumo is likewise privy to gossip and loves to hear the latest news and stories, making him one of the first to greet Tamaru upon his return.

Tuuli is one of the more successful traders and shopkeepers of the Vuata Maca. While she has never actually flown atop a Gukko before, Tuuli nevertheless coordinates with the rest of the Gukko Airforce to bring him goods and deliver her products to customers, paying them well and making good business with all she deals with. There are rumors that Tuuli is the descendant of Lein, but she thinks it is all baseless folktale that Kumo may have accidentally indulged in too much.

Sanso is a local gardener who indulges in his hobby of collecting flora from across Okoto and cultivating them in his hanging gardens. While he has some hits and misses, he has nevertheless managed to amass a sizable garden of beautiful flowers, and other exotic flora. Many come to Sanso with offers to trade in exchange for some of his flowers. Many report Sanso to have a ‘beautiful’ smell, and he is a particular fan of Makani’s performances, often gifting the musician with special flowers grown and handpicked from his gardens.

Makani himself is one of the Vuata Maca’s most beloved musicians. A natural at all of the instruments, many of which he carves, occasionally with assistance from Kumo, he frequently practices his songs and music-playing and likes to go about the branches, playing for all to hear. He is also a bit of a partyer, and Makani is frequently invited, occasionally paid, to go to celebrations and other events to perform. Interestingly, he is often seen with a flower in his hair given to him by Sanso.

Orkahm is the resident farmer amidst the branches of the Vuata Maca. Whilst Sanso specializes in flowers, Orkahm is more invested in herbs, roots, and food ingredients. He often has ambitious gardens that he asks Kumo to help him construct in the branches, and Orkahm is even a bit of a geneticist, experimenting with hybrids to create tastier, more bountiful plants. Due to his avid hobby, career, and passion, Orkahm is often in need of Ussal manure, which acts as a potent fertilizer, and constantly orders it from Tuuli and others to get as much as he can.

Kongu is the Captain of the Gukko Airforce. Having inherited the position from his mother, Kongu and his steed, Ka, lead the Airforce in their travels, delivering necessities, luxuries, bringing messages, and with Vizuna by his side coordinates the occasional defense against an attempted Skull Spider breach of the Vuata Maca’s branches. A no-nonsense flyer and pilot, Kongu is more invested in the practical, military applications of the Airforce, but at the same time notices the importance that the market and its luxuries provide to often hopeless Okotans. Believe it or not, but Kongu occasionally hides a sly sense of humor that slips out from time to time.

Tamaru is another member of the Gukko Airforce, and one of its more unusual ones. Crippled with a fear of heights, easy air-sickness, and vertigo, Tamaru nevertheless lives for the report. He is dedicated to delivering information to others, as well as acting as a mailman, and he engages in the current workings and know-how of Okoto, intending to see how the war against the Skull Spiders turns out. As a result of this need and desire, Tamaru became a member of the Gukko Airforce, although his weaknesses force him to fly with others. As the man of news in Okoto, many often swarm Tamaru for messages from others, to send messages, and to learn about the current goings of the other Mega Villages. In his rare spare time, Tamaru loves to gab, with Kumo being a faithful audience member.

Shu is a daredevil pilot of the Gukko Airforce, who loves to showboat her flying abilities atop her steed, often doing complicated maneuvers, spins, and dives, something Kongu is quick to lecture her about. Due to her wild, rowdy nature, Shu likes to hold Gukko races with other flyers, and if doing none of the above, has once been sighted trying out skydiving- Which, again, agitates Kongu. Despite her seemingly fearless nature, however, Shu is not dumb and is well aware of the threat that Skull Spiders pose, and refuses to underestimate them.

Vira is the mapmaker of Okoto, and knows the layout of the entire island- Or as much as she can, if it weren’t for the mysterious, restricted airspace where flyers disappear and never return. A coordinator, Vira was the one who helped map out the branches of the Vuata Maca. With a natural penchant for exploration and an almost obsessive curiosity, Vira has taken to the Airforce to fly above Okoto, using her altitude and vantage point to map out the island. Her knowledge of the geography makes her vital in planning out flights, coordinating paths, and calculating times and distances. Vira makes her own personal profit making and selling maps to others, and she dreams of exploring Okoto, in honor of her disappeared lover, Harvali.

The resident food connoisseur, chef, and diner, Boreas joined the Gukko Airforce in part to fuel his culinary passions. One of Orkahm’s most frequent customers, Boreas is an admirable chef, combining various herbs, spices, and other ingredients to create the most delectable dishes. Many will come to his small cottage, offering something in exchange for a delicious recipe. Boreas likes to use his position of the Airforce to visit other Okotans and try their cuisines and share cooking tips and recipes, and his part-time job is delivering and selling ingredients, some of which he needs to gather from the ground below; A job the fearless, but not foolish, Shu is willing to do for him.

Taiki is a kindred spirit amongst the Gukko, and some joke that she IS part Gukko. Secretly, Taiki wishes this was the case. A member of the Gukko Airforce, she perhaps shares the closest bond with the Gukko birds, tending to them, making sure they are fed, and even playing with them. Taiki likes to travel around the branches, visiting other Gukko nests and helping the mothers with their eggs. Amusingly, Tamaru once saw Taiki actually sit on an egg in the vain hopes of helping it hatch, a sight Taiki has made him swear never to divulge. Taiki is particularly insistent on the mutual bond and respect between rider and Gukko. Taiki is often called ‘Featherhead’ by the others, but this is an endearing nickname.

#bionicle #bionicle g2 #okoto #vizuna #kongu #tamaru #gukko #orkahm #jungle #harvali #worldbuilding #lore #fanon #fan continuity

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savinscripts · 6 years ago

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CHAPTER 1: ❝ The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience. ❞

Lightning split the sky overhead, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Rain beat down, cold and sharp, running in a torrent down the treacherous mountainside. The cliff face gave no relief, rising up hundreds of feet into the sky. The old stone was thick with moss and worn slick by the passing of the centuries. By the passing of thousands of bare feet from centuries ago. Faye pushed her sodden hair back out of her face and held up her flashlight. Most people would just see a blank rock face, covered in vines and dirt and worn by weather and time. Nothing special. Nothing of worth. Certainly nothing that would warrant standing on the edge of a mountain in the middle of a tropical monsoon.

But Faye wasn’t most people.

Faye was here for a reason. Several reasons. Five million of them to be exact. Paid upon delivery. Because Faye found things. Things people wanted. People with money. Lots and lots of money. And after being ‘let go’ from her dream job at the National Archives for some bueracratic bullshit that said she was no longer needed - even though over half their recent collection was all there thank to her efforts - she went into business for herself.

Finding things.

It was twice as exciting. And paid a hell of a lot more.

She was good at it. Hence why she was here, and running her fingers over the symbol hidden beneath the vines. A symbol that when pressed just so…

“Open fuckin’ sesame,” Faye grinned, taking a careful step back - wouldn’t do to fall off the mountain now - as the way opened up. A gust of long-trapped air, dry and smelling of old things long shut off from the world, blew out into the rain. Faye turned her face away. When the door was open, she found a large bit of rock and wedged in the threshold. Just in case. She doubted it would close, but she wasn’t taking chances.

Stepping inside, Faye descended the dusty, spiderweb strewn corridor, her flashlight swinging back and forth as she searched for the next piece of the puzzle. The piece that would eventually lead to her prize.

Back outside, Carrington Bishop, ex-soldier turned hired mercenary, watched the woman open the tomb and disappear inside. He smiled to himself. Excellent. He didn’t know anything about ruins, or ancient treasures, nor did he give two shits about any sort of historical value. He knew the jungle. He knew how to get shit done. He knew that five million US dollars would set him up well for the rest of his life. And he could out of this fucking business for good.

So he waited a few minutes before following her, the sounds of the storm raging outside dulling to a dim roar as he descended, following her footprints in the dust.

Stefan Savin was a liar.

Now, calling him such was in no way an accusation, or an insult. It was a fact, and, in all regards, a rather well known one. Fane himself would admit to it in a heartbeat. No longer a top-graded Oxford graduate or even a scholar nosing around libraries and letting other people secure his artefacts for him (granted he still did love a good library). He was a thief and, well, thieves lied. In his opinion, there was nothing wrong with being a liar, at least, not if you were a good one. And Fane? He’d become one of the best.

Once, at gunpoint, he’d convinced a corrupt, black-market-dealing, money-hoarding thug and half his band of drooling goons-- who had ambushed him in the depths of a crypt he’d spent months researching a way into-- that the only way to open the vault and inner crypt where the treasure horde was kept was to spin around in circles as fast as they could while patting their stomachs with one hand and rubbing their head with the other. Of course, most of the goons had been too damn dizzy to shoot at him afterwards when he’d proceeded to bolt through a nearby split in the wall and made off with the real treasure, not gold or jewels, but half a crumbling ancient manuscript written thousands of years ago.

Something that had fetched a pretty sum for a scholar, who intended to have it displayed at a public museum in the near future though not before Fane had taken his own time to study the relic. He hadn’t entirely abandoned his roots and interests after all. A lifetime of study, education and travel had left him access to a vast knowledge base not to mention combined with a sharp intellect he’d learned to passably speak and read almost two-dozen dialects ranging from modern to ancient civilisations long since passed. A job offer had come in since. Five million dollars for the retrieval of an artefact deep in the Lacandon jungle.

But something about this job felt off, except, Fane couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have the absolute luxury to turn down jobs when they came about explaining why he presently cut through an overgrown trail towards a rubble-strewn ruin that once was a sizable temple dedicated to Quetzalcoatl when the downpour began, sudden and torrential, as was the usual way. It began with a flash of lightning, splitting the darkened sky; then the deep rumble of thunder that echoed over treetops. And then, the approaching hiss of rain that fell heavy on the leaves of the trees, the patters more an endless, dull roar to his ears and by the time he arrived at the true entrance his clothes were drenched entirely. Not that he minded as he stepped into the shelter of darkened granite overhead, cracking a military grade glowstick to illuminate the darkness he glanced at a nearby wall taking a moment to mark it for safety’s sake and to ensure he knew which way to go to get out again once this was all said and done. The artefact from his studies was housed deep inside the temple; artfully designed to guard its secrets. Stepping near to the wall he pressed his ear to it, and from some distinct place beyond could hear the rush of water in such a way that didn’t quite seem a natural fashion.

Likely something to keep in mind as he pushed his hair out of his eyes and headed into the temple.

Faye descended deeper in the temple. It smelled like something moldering the further in she moved. The cobwebs grew thicker, and she had to duck beneath them in several places they were so thick. Some stuck to her hair and clothes, but she batted them away without much care. There was nothing living down here. Not for centuries. It was cold too. Or cooler at least. Her rain-soaked skin peppered with gooseflesh as the humidity from up above was replaced by a creeping dampness.

There were no marking on the walls here, Faye noticed. She ran her hands over the slick stone, trying to feel for any small indentations. Anything that might reveal something left behind by the people that used this temple. There was nothing. Until there was.

The passageway opened up into a cavernous antechamber. Dry as the rest, it smelled like air hadn’t moved in ages. Nothing grew here. Nothing crawled in the shadows. Nothing flittered across the light of torch. It was empty. Except for the bones.

Pulling her bandanna up around her mouth and nose, Faye eased forwards towards the wall of skulls. They rose out of sight, up into the darkness, each one carved with a different symbol on it’s forehead. She walked down the wall one way, and then the other. The skulls extended thirty paces each way from the center. She didn’t know how far up they went. “Fuck,” she sighed, backing up a few steps to look at the wall as a whole again. There was no other way forwards. But maybe…

“It can’t be that easy…” she said to herself. Finding the skull with the symbol for ‘k’uk’ or ‘quetzal’ inscribed on it, Faye hesitated only briefly before pressing on it. There was a grinding sound, and the skull sank into the wall. Another heavy thump from behind the stone, and the way opened. Faye started to take a step forwards, but thought better of it. A large stone tossed down the passageway saved her a belly full of poison darts. At least she assumed they were poisoned. Still, she noted the pressure plate and quickly made her way through.

Carrington had watched from the edges of the first path. The woman didn’t notice him, and he very nearly revealed himself, content to blast through the fucking door with a well-place bit of C4, when she managed it finally.

“Better you than me, sweetheart,” he said to himself. Once she was through, he followed, carefully stepping in her footprints.

Fane wasn’t sure he would ever grow accustomed to the smell of rot and death that lingered on the stale and musty air of ancient tombs and crypts, a few steps inside and he already was pulling a mask up over his mouth and nose to barricade against some of the odours permeating through the air. His glowstick swung where it was hooked to his backpack the light shafting this way and that with each step he took into the temple his eyes mindful for any trip wires or pressure plates that might happen to still be active after centuries of disuse. You never really knew what to expect after all, and you never could be too careful.

Forcing his way through thick nets of webbing crafted by spiders larger than the size of his fist the sight of which made him shiver slightly on the venture deeper into the temple, he paused every now and then to continue marking his path through winding corridors and up and down various flights of steps. Left and right the path wound, mindful to always check with a few heavier stones when it came to a new corridor as to whether there might be some unfortunate spike-pit ahead. Those he found were mindfully skirted by, it wouldn’t do to end up being skewered after all.

Until narrow walkways opened into a vast square room lined with ancient burial alcoves, a central raised altar with skeletal remains left on it and no foreseeable way forwards and Fane was forced to consult his journal regarding the layout of the temple. Cracking out his flashlight and shining it about until he highlighted a statue ahead carved with intricate details and an inscription in an ancient dialect. On either side of this hung what looked like two empty braziers cast in bronze. Shining his light on the inscription he squinted a little, needing to read back several times until he got the gist of what it was saying. “The warrior’s soul will be weighed in gold,” he snorted a little the sound muffled by the mask covering his features. Walking forwards he tucked away the journal and glanced at the skeleton who seemed to have once been dressed for battle by these people’s standards; the remains of what looked like a spear resting beside him.

Hooking his fingers through the empty eye-sockets of the skull, Fane hoisted the skull up picking the jaw up along with it prior to setting them in one of the scale-like objects which sank mightily under their weight. The Mayans believed the soul was in the head after all. Hearing the distinct grind of something moving Fane glanced around noting plenty of gold pieces and items strewn about which he set about collecting up, filling up the other scales until they balanced out and something clunked and the echo of stone on stone could be heard echoing through the chamber as a doorway was revealed. With a two-fingered salute to the skull and a passing remark of “cheers Horatio,” Fane continued on, several antechambers later arriving in a space that must’ve from his approximations been the central hub of the temple. Walking down a long set of stairs, he had to crane his neck up at what looked almost like an ancient equivalent of a cistern. Rising high above the pooling waters that rushed down carefully constructed channels into swirling pools at the base. Fane could almost taste the satisfaction of taking the item and getting out of here already as he considered the safest route up before moving to jump onto one of the nearby ledges from the entrance he’d just arrived through. Shuffling along and swinging his body weight until he could safely drop down on another platform nearer a couple of toppled pillars that would lead roughly by his judgement to the base of the structure.

After what felt like the longest walk of her life, and nursing a sore shoulder from a steep slide and a sudden stop when she stepped on the wrong stone a ways back, Faye squeezed through into what she hoped to God was her destination. She was dirty, sweaty, and covered in cobwebs. All she wanted was that fucking relic so she could get the hell out of here and get her money.

She looked around, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness of the chamber. And when she blinked, she suddenly forgot all about how tired she was, or how dirty. Or how much she wanted a shower and a drink. There was the final dias. It was a good climb, but nothing she couldn’t manage. Tucking her flashlight away - since the room was illuminated by a huge opening in the roof of the cavern (her way out, hopefully) - Faye adjusted her pack on her shoulder and moved towards a crumbling set of stairs.

The sudden yet familiar sound of a hammer being pulled back had her going for her weapon. “I’d stop there if I were you, love.”

Faye froze, hands out to the side. She’d been followed. She’d been fucking followed, and hadn’t even realized-

“Thanks for the tour,” the voice said again, cutting off her thoughts. “But I’ll take it from here. Drop the pack please.”

Faye did as she was told, trying to get a look at her pursuer in the process.

“Ah, ah. Eyes front. Now the gun. Drop it. Kick it into the water.”

Faye complied, hoping he wouldn’t search her. She had another in her boot under the hem of her pants.

“Be very still. I’d hate to shoot you by accident. Such a pretty face. Even under all that grime.” The voice moved forwards. Faye heard heavy boots, the swing of a light pack, possibly a rifle as well. Hands patted her down after making her interlock them behind her head. Not the boot, not the boot… fuck.

“Sneaky,” the voice crooned, slipping the gun from the ankle holster.

“Glass houses,” Faye said shortly, too pissed off to keep quiet.

“Ah, well. A few broken panes can be fixed quite easily. Now sit please.” He pressed the gun into Faye’s ribs, wanting her to move to the wall.

A distance away, Fane was continuing to edge his way across the ledges and platforms his boots hooking into cracks, the muscles in his arms straining with the effort of lifting and maneuvering his body-weight round and up. Unfortunately, one of the ledges he’d taken a running jump at crumbled away into nothingness under the grip of his fingers and the entire unstable platform gave way crashing down into the water taking Fane toppling with it. The crashing of rocks bounced and echoed off the walls of the chamber as Fane crashed hard into a wooden trap-door that seemed to be holding back spewing water which from the downpour outside was spewing heavily.

The noise of the collapsing column and platform rumbled around the cavern, surprised and momentarily distracted Carrington’s gun wavered just a fraction as his gaze swept around in search of what had made the noise.“The hell--” he uttered in slight disbelief when he noticed yet another lone figure here also. “Now, looks like we have ourselves a party crasher here.”

Rolling over he groaned holding his ribs and trying to regain air before he climbed back to his feet wincing as he assessed the situation at hand. There was no way to get up to the central dais from this level. No way unless… An idea came to him, and Fane unhooked a crow-bar attached to his pack. Lodging this firmly in behind the old wood, but the echo of a gunshot caused him to flinch and glance over his shoulder. His eyes zeroing in on the pair in a different section of chamber “fuck--” he cursed himself starting to put his weight into leveraging the leaky circular port with his full weight behind it, the planks creaked and groaned but didn’t give way just yet though more water started spitting through a few more gaps “didn’t realise we were scheduled in for a threesome today. I would’ve dressed nicer if I’d have known.” He glanced back at the pair knowing he didn’t have much time before he was very possibly riddled with bullets.

At the same time, Carrington eyed the man with a neutral gaze levelling the gun in his direction and cocking back the hammer once more. Momentarily distracted in the aim of taking out whatever other competition there might be.

That is, before the panels Fane was plying gave way in a massive rush of water that flooded the cavern starting to raise the levels of the pools below at a rather alarming rate. But also enough, so that Fane, crowbar in hand could dive in and vanish under the surging water as it elevated to the level he was attempting to reach prior and all Fane had to do was float the buoyancy of his bag helping to drag him up with the rising water until he fished himself out onto an alcove platform higher up the chamber.

The gunshot so close to her ear as she didn’t move quite fast enough for the asshole that had followed her had her head ringing. So the appearance of another person was just the icing on the cake. “Did someone send out a fucking memo?” she said, but didn’t move less she get the next bullet somewhere important.

But she didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Or as much of an answer as she needed. Water rushed into the cavern obscenely fast. The man holding the gun on her backpedaled, but the way they had come was already filling over. Faye didn’t waste any time. She snagged her pack and started running up the crumbling stairs. The water was right on her heels, and perhaps she should have been worried about the other man that was trying to get to the stairs behind her. But he had almost shot her, so fuck him.

Faye could swim, but she preferred not to. Running a hair’s breadth above the rising pools, she made a leap of faith, hoping the climbing ax she’d pulled from her pack would be able to hook in the crumbling section of stairs on the other side. It did. But barely. She slid down a good ten feet, but held on tight. The water rose, and she pulled the ax loose and snagged the edge above her, pulling herself up.

She barely took a moment to look around before seeing the item she’d come to claim. Stumbling towards it, she stopped at the dias, looking up above her to the open roof of the cave. How the hell was she supposed to get out. She didn’t get to think about it too long however. The third man was pulling himself up right after her. Faye didn’t have a gun, so she reached for the relic, hoping to snag it before anyone else could. A bullet embedded itself in the dias, three inches from her hand. “Leave it,” the man who’d held her at gunpoint panted as he pulled himself from the water. He had a gash over his eye, and was holding his side, nursing what was probalby a few broken or bruised ribs. He’d lost his pack and his rifle, but the gun was still absolutely present as he pointed it at Faye.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Faye said, raising her hands and backing away again. Apparently, this guy hadn’t seen the other man yet. At least he hadn’t pointed a gun at her. Maybe he was reasonable. She doubted it, but her options were limited.

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing, sweetheart,” the man continued. “My job. Now I’m going to take this little book, and my ride is coming to pick me up. We go our seperate ways, and never the twain shall meet. Either that, or I shoot you and take it anyway. Your choice.”

The water was admittedly very refreshing from the filtering humidity, but he swam with a single-minded determination towards the dais his body buoyed by the water pushing him along towards his objective. He didn’t know where the others were but what he did know was that item was his for the taking because months of hard work and graft were not going to waste today. Unfortunately, it seemed the pair he’d spotted over the other side had managed to clamber and muster their way up the ledges and broken staircase and were both making a beeline for the book.

A fact he observed as he resurfaced quietly a distance behind them, watching as the dirty-blond man pulled his pistol on the woman who had made a risky grab for the book. Commendable but stupid, though at least the gun-toting dude wasn’t focussed on his surroundings. Leaving just enough time for Fane to climb out of the water, his clothes utterly drenched and unholster his own pistol from a waterproof holster on his belt (purely for practical purposes) Fane made a habit of not killing people when he went about his missions and jobs. Still, it didn’t stop him from drawing it and clicking back the hammer the sound loud in the silence “drop the piece and kick it over to me, slowly.”

His eyes flickered to the woman debating on whether she would be an issue before they fixated back on the man taking him as the primary issue right now. “Come come, we don’t have all day,” and after a long moment of staring down the barrel the man seemed to have enough common sense to do as was asked of him and Fane slowly (keeping the gun trained on the man) crouched down and picked it up tucking it into his belt. Gesturing to Faye “pat him down would you love? Nobody wants any nasty surprises now do we?” While that was happening, Carrington looking none too pleased but maintaining his decorum mostly despite the turn of the tables Fane stepped over to the central plinth.

“Now, if any of you had happened to do any sort of research into this place. You would know there’s a final trial before you can claim the prize.” He gave the woman a slight side-eye wondering how good they really were if they didn’t know that fact. “And I don’t know about you but there’s a cabana on a beach somewhere with my name on it. I’d be loathe not to reach it.” Once sure in the knowledge that Carrington was at least under watch for now, Fane looked over at Faye before making an executive decision to unholster the weapon from where he’d tucked it and pass it over to her. “Now, why don’t you prove yourself to be more than a pretty face and stay where you are” he said to Carrington turning to look at Faye with no amount of trust but more than he had for the man “watch him, I want to know why we’ve all been sent to find whatever this is.” With that said and done, Fane moved over to the dais noting an individual circular bowl sitting on a pillar filled with earth in front of the stone manuscript itself, in front of this were three smaller cups engraved with a set of symbols. On one, what looked like a knife and a symbol for a warrior, another what looked like a symbol for grain, another for water.

Looking at the varying options, he mulled on it “to be worthy of reading this text… You had to prove yourself, pick the right one and identify your place amongst the people.” He rubbed his jaw, muttering to himself “no, there’s got to be more to it than a process of elimination. They’re too advanced for that.” And then it dawned on him, and Fane picked up the knife carving three lines into the soil, the knife replaced, next the seeds were tipped into the troughs he’d carved, soil patted over before the final cup was lifted… Water poured over the bowl.

“Life.”

For a moment, nothing happened, but then the pillar rumbled and began rotating sinking down and down until the bowl touched the ground leaving a path clear to approach the plinth. Fane stepped over the bowl, onto the platform and hooked his fingers in the stone lid of the monolith. It slid loose in a puff of dust that made him grimace before he reached in and withdrew the set of several scrolls within looking a little… perplexed though he was certain the temple dropped several degrees once he had them in hand. It was such a simple item though as he unrolled it and scanned the text his features dropped “this… isn’t what I was sent to fetch…” He frowned deeply turning the scrolls over and continuing to translate roughly before looking over at the others “were either of you told what you were collecting?”

Faye tried not to kill anyone if she could help it. Unless they were set out to get her first. She was a terrible shot anyway, unless the person was within about fifty feet. But neither of these assholes knew that. Though the second man that had shown up at least had the temerity not to point his gun at her. Seeing as how she was unarmed.

The man who’d tried to shoot her made a smart move, tossing his weapon. When she was instructed to pat him down, Faye lowered her own hands warily. She hated being told what to do like she was some amateur playing Indiana Jones, but the guy was right. Better safe than sorry. Faye moved towards the man who now held his hands interlocked behind his head. She patted him down, finding two knives strapped beneath his shirt, and a small .9mm tucked into his belt.

He looked at her as she disarmed him. “Careful there. I’d hate for it go off in your hand.”

“Pig,” Faye said, pointing Carrington’s own gun at him now. She took the one Fane offered back and tucked it away. “I didn’t read anything about a final trial,” she said to him. “My records were incomplete.”

The man only grinned at Faye’s comment and turned his eyes to where Fane was now muttering to himself. “Just a cabana?” He tutted. “I’ve got an entire island waiting for me once I get shot of all this. You could come,” he said back to Faye, who still held him at gunpoint. “I promise not to shoot you if you behave.”

“Do not piss me off, Dr. Who,” Faye said, eyes on Carrington but ears on Fane. He seemed to be working it out, so she stayed where she was, gun trained carefully on something non-vital. At the sound of shifting stone, Faye chanced a look over to see Fane moving towards another part of the dias. She frowned, but had to turn her attention back to her captive.

When Fane collected what he was after, and called out, Faye frowned too. “No,” she ventured. “Just that it was here. And it was an important manuscript. One of the first ever put down by the people that lived here. Thousands of years old.”

“Same,” Carrington said. He looked bored, and kept glancing at the sky.

Faye was about to tell him to sit down, but in the distance the muffled sound of something manmade started to make itself known. Helicopters.

“Looks like my ride’s here,” Carrington grinned. “Whatever that is, I’d hand it over,” he said to Fane. “My employer doesn’t ask nicely.”

Filtering through the manuscript he had pulled from its stone confines, Fane couldn’t help but frown what he was reading… Whatever this was, it left him with an eerie sense of foreboding. Something in his gut didn’t quite sit right, and until he could figure out why he was reluctant to pass over the artefact to some jumped up British wannabe who looked more inclined to blow the place to smithereens if it meant being dealt out a whopping paycheck.

“No details of the contents?” he clarified glancing down at the pages that he reverently turned, his eyes lifted at the thud of approaching choppers but something more pressing felt at hand. “It’s old… But from what I can tell it’s not as ancient as the city. This… from the bits I can decipher right now it’s some sort of doomsday manuscript.” His brows furrowed as he studied the text keeping a bit of distance between himself and the others “or at least… It’s part of one... I’d need more time to decipher the rest but...” Fane’s fingers tracked down some of the symbols “with the pieces combined the spirits of vengeance shall from their earthly tombs rise, righteous warriors sent forth to cleanse the earth of false prophets.”

He looked over at the woman, gauging her reaction to what he read as the sound of choppers grew noiser and wind and rain was buffeted in by the propellers. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Fane countered, voice raising over the din of the choppers. He had a very, very bad feeling about handing it over and Fane gripped the manuscript tighter though his answer seemed to displease the Brit in the room.

Knowing he couldn’t do much until the gun was out of the picture, he waited until the choppers were practically overhead their luminescent floodlights shining through the hole in the roof. Using the distraction of their arrival to charge the woman and attempt to wrestle the gun out of her hand with a few sharp palm strikes.

Seeing this, Fane backed up a step pulling open his bag and shoving the text inside as ropes were flung down and black tactical-gear clad figures appeared at the roof of the basin hefting mean-looking assault rifles. They didn’t seem to be interested in talking however, nor about the well-being of their so-called operative instead, lifting up their guns and aiming at the trio on the platform below before pulling the triggers and the world erupted in gunfire that carved paths in the ancient stone. Fane dived out of the way and for a brief second thanked god for all the stone blocks here to provide cover as he wrestled to get his pistol out and fire off some shots at their attackers. One thug in attempting to avoid the bullets lost his footing, toppling over the edge and sailing from the sixty-foot drop and slamming into the dais before toppling into the water. His assault-rifle skidded on the wet stone, glancing off until it stopped teetering just on the edge seeming about ready to tip but not quite.

“You know how to use that thing?” he hollered across at the British guy, hoping that for the moment their former difficulties could be set aside until they avoided being shot up to high heaven.

Faye’s frown only deepened as the man read over the manuscript. She was very away he could be bluffing, but something in her gut told Faye that wasn’t the case. Not by a long shot. That this entire job had just gotten a thousand times more complicated. The appearance of the helicopters and the floodlights didn’t help. Faye was momentarily blinded, so she didn’t see the ropes, nor did she see the other man make a dash for her. He disarmed her, and Faye stumbled. She was reaching for the gun tucked into her belt when the first soldier hit the dias. It was only the crack of gunfire, and the explosion of the rock next to her face - sending pieces sharp as glass towards her - that made Faye move. An assault rifle intent on killing you wasn’t a sound you forgot.

She scrambled behind the ledge, pulling her weapon and chancing a look once there was a break in the barrage of bullets. It didn’t last long, and Faye fired off two or three shots at the men up above. She missed all three times.

Behind another bit of stone, Carrington was frowning fit to kill. The fucking double-crossing bastards. He should’ve known. Something like this… he should’ve known they were never going to let him leave the temple alive. It wasn’t the first time he’d been stabbed in the back, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. What he was certain of was that he wasn’t dying in some moldering South American tomb with a woman and a glorified librarian.

The assault rifle slid into range, and Carrington had it in his hand even as Fane was still speaking. He checked the magazine - half full - checked to make sure the rifle hadn’t jammed itself on impact (so it didn’t blow up in his face), and when he was satisfied, he turned and fired off several three round bursts. Three more men fell to the dias and didn’t move. He glanced over at Fane, tipping an eyebrow. “How about a way out? Since I’m doing the lion’s share.” He fired another round of bullets at the men still rappelling down into the tomb. Three of the four fell limp in their harnesses.

“We need to go!” Faye called out over the chaos. “Water’s the only way!” When Fane had flooded the room, the rising pools had all coalesced into one, and after a bit had started drifting in one direction. Faye had heard the rush of water as it poured over the edge of the mountain, and she remembered a small lake on her way up. Perhaps that was where the water poured out. If not… well, they were dead if they stayed here.

Bullets ricocheted off the walls and floors. The statues fanning the deadly spray of lead around the tomb and more than once Fane had to dive for cover. More sparks flew and broken shards from ornate murals decorating the cistern-like arches above showered down on the trio. This hadn’t been how he’d planned on today going at all. Typical really. Flashlights attached to their assailants guns swung this way and that between the flare of gun muzzles firing off their rounds without a care beyond eliminating their targets below. Once the other man secured the gun and started taking their attackers down in short, controlled bursts of fire Fane set about scrambling around to cover so he could try to figure out what it was they would need to do to get out of here.

As bodies dropped, Fane took the opportunity to seize one man’s arm and drag him into cover looting his body for his rifle and the bandolier strapped with ammunition should they need it outside. Fixing this over his chest he slung the rifle over his shoulder when the woman called out a blatantly obvious fact. Of course they needed to go. But-- her next point wasn’t actually half bad.

His eyes turned to the lake he’d all but created earlier in flooding the antechamber. It hadn’t swamped the entire place meaning it had to be funnelling out somewhere. It was then that he saw the ripple of swirling and gurgling water, highlighted by one of the several torches from above. “Over there!” pulling out his knife he scrambled over to where one of the long pieces of rope had snapped severing it and securing it about his waist. They were better off if they stuck together for the moment and he had no idea where those tunnels might end up. It was a risk, but considering they were the only ones not shooting at him one he was presently rather willing to take right now at least. “Tie on! Then we’re going to have to dive… It’s the only other way out of here.”

The woman was being gloriously unhelpful in stating the bloody obvious. The man was at least upping the body count. Marginally. Despite his distaste for being shot at, Carrington despised actually being shot even more. So when a bullet grazed his arm, he fell back behind the cover. A quick glance let him know it was only a graze, but it was a damn sight closer than he liked.

“What?!” he called to other man, glancing towards where he was pointing as the barrage of bullets continued. Eventually, the three of them - or the two that had actually hit something - were going to run out of ammo. Then they were well and truly fucked. A part of him wanted to ask this other person if he has lost his mind, but another part said it was the most logical solution. The water was running fast, and from his survey of the place Carrington knew wherever it went it wouldn’t take long to get there. Half a minute maybe. So against his better judgement, he shouldered his rifle, glaring daggers at the man already tying the rope around his waist, and strapped in too.

Faye, for her part, was trying not to panic. It was the water - she was a good swimmer - it was the part where they were going to be sucked under. Most likely shot out the other side into open air before she even had time to worry about holding her breath for too long, but it was still underwater.

“You coming, Annie Oakley?” Carrington called over. “Or do you plan to wipe them all out first?”

Faye glared at him, ducking down as another hail of bullets riddled the stone in front of her. She dashed over, tying herself off with the other two, her hands shaking so much she could barely get it knotted. Finally, she managed it. “Fuck off,” she said to Carrington, who only grinned at her.

“Ready when you are!” he called to Fane, and turned his attention to not dying when they ran for it and jumped.

The water was freezing, and it took Faye’s breath as they were washed away with the current. They were snagged and yanked and buffeted by each other and the water. Bullets sprayed the water all around them, and they were at the end of the pool and being pulled under so quickly that Faye barely had time to take a breath.

The world was upside down and sideways for the span of about fifteen to twenty seconds. The only sound was the rush of water and the pounding of Faye’s heart. Then there was light and air and falling, falling… falling…

The next thing Faye knew she was hacking up a lung on the banks of the lake below the mountain.

Carrington lay nearby, also coughing up his lungs, bleeding from a gash in his forehead. He blinked water and blood out of his eyes. “Anybody dead?” he coughed.

Up above the mountain, the choppers turned and headed towards them, searchlight moving through the trees.

With the signal for the go ahead, Fane took one last large lungful of air and dove with the others into the water kicking his legs to propel him through the water and dragging his arms round and back until the current caught them. And then they were dragged down in the suction of the rushing water, his back jarred against something along the way not that he knew what it was and before long they were tumbling out the other side gasping for air only to have it replaced by the cold hard reality of crashing into water below. Disorientated and a little shocked from the brisk landing Fane was shocked momentarily.

Until his mind came back to him, and he started to kick his legs swimming blindly in the one direction he hoped was up feeling the tug of rope grow taut under the weight of the others. Though it slackened as the other man who had tied himself in next to Fane seemed to come about and start helping to get them up. They reached the shore without too much issue, clambering out onto the banks before collapsing coughing up what felt like lungfuls of water onto the bank the humidity and sodden state of his clothes causing them to stick to his sink uncomfortably. Not that he cared, only thinking about replacing water with air and eventually he rolled over onto his back sucking in deep lungfuls of the stuff the rifle clunking under the act.

“Not yet,” he answered the Brit but the thud of choppers and sweeping search-lights swooping round caused him to groan and prop himself up. “We-- we need to get some wheels. Get away from here otherwise we very well might be.” Far sooner than he’d like in all honesty. “Can you manage with that ‘til we patch it up?” he asked the man in reference to the gash on his head. Pushing himself up, Fane pulled out his knife to sever the rope around his waist holding it out to the Brit to do the same. “You alright?” he asked walking over to the woman while wringing out his shirt some and pushing his hair back out of his eyes, offering a hand out to her.

Faye swiped her wet hair out of her face as she heard the coughing of the two men. Her own was making her see spots, and she knew she’d swallowed some water in the process of being spat out of the temple into the lake. She glanced back up where the choppers were starting to realize they’d made a run for it. The waterfall had to be fifty feet up the side of the mountain. They were lucky to not have broken their necks in the fall.

As one man answered the other’s question, Faye managed to turn onto her back, wheezing as she said a thank you to whatever was watching out for them that they’d made it through safe. “Takes more than a… army of gun-tottin’ lackeys and a fifty foot drop to kill me,” she groaned, finally sitting up.

A glance at the other two showed that the guy who’d stolen her gun was bleeding from his head. And from where the bullet had grazed his arm. Served him right, the bastard. The other man seemed unharmed. At least on the outside. They were all soaking wet and covered in mud, but they were alive. But the guy was right. They had to get going. They’d never make it on foot. “Yeah,” Faye said, not too proud to accept a hand up.

“I’m fine,” Carrington said to Fane’s inquiry, turning to sit on his rear for a moment. He dashed the blood and water off his face with a hand, and shot Fane a look of annoyance as he handed over the knife. But he severed the rope, tossing the useless bits in the water, and handed back the weapon as he stood. A glance at the woman was all he afforded her as Fane helped her to her feet. “I’ve got transport. A mile east of here. They don’t have ground troops yet. Just airborne.” He glanced up at the approaching choppers. “But it won’t take them long to regroup and send the men that are left down here after us.”

Faye glanced up at the choppers as well. They were close enough that the trees were blowing under the wind from the blades. “Well then I suggest we stop gawkin’ and get goin’.” She gestured with a hand that Carrington (who’s name she still didn’t know) lead the way. “After you.”

The jumping of a muscle in his jaw was the only indication of his annoyance. Otherwise he kept a calm outward demeanor. “I’m not stopping if you can’t keep up,” he said to Faye. “You either,” he said to Fane before turning into the jungle and away from the searchlights and soldiers.

“Well,” Faye said to Fane as they moved to follow Carrington. “I don’t know about you, but I preferred the hit squad. They didn’t talk near as much.”

Once the rope was severed, the woman on her feet and the man saying he was fine Fane looked at them both before dumping the rope deliberately into a nearby bush discarding it certainly out of side before grabbing a large bay leaf and yanking it down from its branch. “Then we head for that,” Fane raised his arm checking the strap about his wrist which had both a watch and compass embedded in it. Glancing in that direction, he pointed to a spot where a small tributary lead off from the lake. “If we stick to the water and cover of the jungle they won’t be able to track us,” at least not by their foot-prints and not so easily by air. Anything that gave them a head-start on getting out of here at least was something worthwhile and if they didn’t know which way to look their men would be more thinly spread.

Or that was what Fane hoped all things considered. It made sense in his head.

Explaining why, along the same idea of removing the traces of their presence here he pinched the corners of the large leaf between his thumb and index until the waxed surface was folded into an approximate bowl shape. “Stay out of the mud,” Fane said while wading a little into the water and scooping up enough it could hold without spilling and dumping it over the bank where they had emerged the water washing away any evidence they had been here. Instead of exiting the same way he’d entered, Fane moved a little further up towards the small waterway he’d pointed out in the direction they were to head following after the other man not that he knew his name.

“Yeah, sure, whatever Captain Hardass” Fane muttered in response to his comment, glancing aside at the woman as she fell in step with him unable to help the snort at her commentary. “I’m not sure what’s worse, listening to him insult everyone and everything or getting riddled with bullets.” Still, tilting his chin up as he eyed the sky the rain from earlier drizzling through the branches overhead in heavy droplets “so, what should I call you love?”

To his credit, Carrington only half-glanced over his shoulder at the other two as they moved off into the brush. He didn’t comment in return, merely flattened his lips together in annoyance and trudged ahead. If they got left behind, so be it. Other than the fact the relic was in the librarian’s pack. Though he supposed it was a mute point now, all things considered. Since his employer had tried to have him murdered. And it seemed to Cari - considering the excessive use of force, particularly if they wanted to simply kill him - that the powers that be had known the other man and the woman would be there.

If he had to chance a guess, it would be that they all worked for the same person, yet none of them knew it. It was a sound plan, he thought. Send in more than one operative, promising a fortune for the prize. Three heads was better than one. A bird in the hand… all that rubbish. Still, the fact remained that there was a price on their heads now. Or a bullseye at least. It would be safer to stick together. For him at least. The man could shoot, the woman… she was nice to look at, but otherwise seemed useless. But they would have to think about those things later. Right now they needed to get out of the bloody jungle.

Behind Carrington, Faye walked along, pushing aside brush and ducking beneath branches. The sound of the choppers was fading a bit, and she hoped Fane’s efforts on the bank would pay off. Or at least by them some time. She grinned as she stepped around a fallen boulder. “I think bullets probably sting a bit more.” A quick glance at him had her huffing. “Not ‘love,’” she said. “Folks call me Remy.” She looked at him again. “What about you?”

Now that he had a little opportunity to consider everything that had happened as he trudged along the path up the small ravine pushing leaves out of the way. Fane had come to a similar conclusion as Carrington, the sheer amount of force whoever had sent Carrington was more that simply for just one person. That whoever had sent those soldiers had more than likely known that there would be more than one person at the tomb, meaning, whoever had come either was very good at intel gathering or had set this whole thing up. Kill the three of them, keep the cash and the artefact? In this business, it was hardly too unbelievable that it might happen, in fact, the odds of that happening were higher than them not. Perhaps later they would clarify that fact, for now Fane was happy to continue pressing on along the path they cut hoping this guy seemed as decent at navigating as he was easy on the eyes. Not that he was thinking about that, though it was a passing observation he’d made.

Could he be blamed for that?

Even if the guy was a dick.

“Mm, yeah I think you’re right witticisms don’t really do all that much damage” he glanced at the other man’s back as they trudged on. Though when she spoke again he looked aside, “Remy huh?” he peered at her a moment before making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Locke,” he said simply and offered her a hand. “How ‘bout you? Unless you want me to keep calling you Captain Hardass,” he spoke up to the other man walking a few paces ahead picking his way through the roots where they stuck out of the ground at random intervals.

Faye had come to the same conclusion as the others. This was a set up from the get go. Taking out one person might require more than one man, but three choppers full? No, they knew what they were doing. Still, the guy up ahead had tipped them off. He could in on it. Possibly. Though Faye doubted it, considering she was a decent reader of people, and he’d been just as surprised as her the other guy. Plus he’d taken some collateral damage. Which could also be a ploy, but those men had come in intent on taking down whoever was in there. This was no precision drop. This was someone doing whatever it took to get their hands on the artifact they’d all three apparently been sent after.

“Remy,” she confirmed with a dip of her head. Like the Cajun boogeyman, Remy Lebeau. People back home called her that for the way she just seems to know the going’s on in the Quarter and the parish. Seemed to be able to get her hands on things other people could never find. And the way she might not be a killer herself, but she knew people. A lot of people. Double crossing her wasn’t a good idea. But anyway.

She shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Locke. Sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.” Faye turned back to the trail ahead as Locke called out to their grumpy British companion.

“Winston.” And that was all he said of what to call him. “Now be quiet. There’re other things out here besides men with guns.”

Fane had thought along a similar line to Remy (as he now knew her name supposedly), in terms of the other man in the group. He could have been bluffing, or set to double-cross them but if he was planning on doing that why waste the time helping them get out of here unless he had some sort of intention to stay together. He could have just as easily shot them both and taken the artefact for himself had he really wanted which would suggest that presently it wasn’t in his interest to do so. Even so, Fane adjusted his grip on his back hitching it just a fraction higher and tighter as they continued to walk along into the depths of the jungle.

“American hm?” it was obvious, her accent for one not to mention the general way she carried herself it was something he could only ever attribute to people from across the pond so to speak. Still, he took her hand and shook it firmly once false-introductions were sorted giving her a small smile “likewise, so-- mind telling me why you were out after that manuscript?” No point in wasting time when they could settle his hypothesis of them working for the same person to bed.

“Like Churchill?” he eyed the man ahead and couldn’t help but snort under his breath, “no wonder he talks so much.” Still as he was called to silenceFane felt the rather childish compulsion to stick his tongue out, he hated being ordered to do things. “No shit Sherlock, where did you think we were? Disneyworld? Sheesh.” Though, for a time he did lapse into silence the only sound of the rain falling through the leaves overhead and noises of things alive deep in the dense growth around them being their company as they walked on and on. Until, it seemed in Fane’s opinion that they started to slow only then did he speak up “are we near?”

“Cajun,” Faye corrected, her accent betraying her Louisiana heritage. So she was very obviously American. She fell in step a bit in front of him and a few paces behind the man calling himself Winston. ”Got a call about a job from my usual go between guy. Hadn’t had one in a few months, so funds were runnin’ thin. I’ve been to South America before. If you can get past the malaria and the heat, it’s not bad.” She ducked under a low-hanging branch. “Job was for a company that calls itself Monarch. At least that’s the front. ‘Rare Historical Artifact Requisition.’” She made air quotes. “Aztec manuscript. Or at least something stored in one of their temples. Sounded easy enough. As you can see…” It wasn’t.

Up ahead, ‘Winston,’ who’s real name was Carrington Bishop - ex-special forces - glanced back over his shoulder at the two of them. Bloody loudmouths, the pair. He didn’t give a response to the man’s question, or his childish taunt. Instead, he held up a hand, signaling them to be still. He gave a nod, however, that they were close. But they should still be cautious.

After a quick survey of the area, Winston determined it to be safe and started to uncover the Land Rover from its hiding place. They were in soon enough, and covered their tracks as best they could before heading towards some form of civilization. In the far distance, the choppers were still sweeping the shoreline, but found no sign that anyone or anything alive had crawled out of the mountain lake anytime recently.

The correction earned a slight dip of his head in acknowledgement along with a slightly more sheepish smile. “I’ve never been one for accents,” he admitted honestly. Could speak a language for days but couldn’t generally place people by the native accents very well, at least, certainly not Americans. Still, her explanation of her contract caused him to mull over the details as they walked. “No, not too bad,” he agreed as they walked on through the tracks trodden by Winston. “Might have to do some digging, how much were they offering if you don’t mind me asking?” Fane wasn’t speaking overly loudly, considering she was just a step or so ahead of him it didn’t particularly warrant raising his voice.

Fane wasn’t typically one to let his mouth get the better of him, but considering an easy job had now turned into a man hunt and the possibility of his life being on the line? Well, he wasn’t in a very content mood to be dealing with people and their attempts to impose authority on a situation. Even so, nothing more was said to Winston and it was better off that way. He had the transport, Fane didn’t particularly fancy having to hike it on foot and once the signal was given to stop he did so waiting until the man did his checks and the vehicle uncovered. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief he swung the rifle off his shoulder and his pack before moving to take the shotgun seat. Once they were all in, Winston climbing behind the steering wheel Fane glanced down noticing a leech on his arm. With a grimace he sought out his knife scooping it under the smaller sucker and then the larger one before flicking the little bloodsucker off into the bushes.

The more distance they could put between them and the ruins the better, once they shifted from bumpy jungle tracks that more than once threatened to put his head through the roof of the car and onto smoother roads Fane let out a shallow breath. Reaching for the radio he tuned it into the local news stations where latin songs interspersed news updates read in rapid Portuguese. He wasn’t sure if the others spoke the language or not but he listened out for any news regarding manhunts and the like, after an hour during which Winston had his foot firmly to the ground propelling them along winding and equally (if not more) perilous traffic overtaking on both sides of the road. Fane sat back, feeling a little more relaxed now “well, whoever’s after us haven’t informed the authorities at least… Otherwise they would’ve released a news broadcast by now for the public to be on the look out--” Fane said after perhaps the third news-interval they had reached on the radio. “That’s something at least.” He glanced aside at Winston who merely grunted in acknowledgement, “I say we go for another few hours,” his clothes were still damp and the car was starting to smell explaining why he’d cranked down a window.

Faye had no qualms climbing into the back of the vehicle. She tossed her sodden pack into the floorboard and leaned back with a weary groan. “Fuck all this walking bullshit. Drive on, Jeeves,” she said, flicking her hand at Carrington. He ignored her and put the vehicle into gear. Once they were out on the road and meeting regular traffic, Faye unlaced her boots as she listened idly to the radio as Locke twisted the dials. Her feet were waterlogged to high heaven, and she rolled down the window and squeezed out her socks before tying them together and looping them through the passenger handle at her head. They would dry a bit that way. Her boots she turned upside down in the floorboard, and after settling back she stuck her feet through the middle of the front seats, wiggling her toes as she listened to what Locke had to say.

“You speak the language I’m guessing?” she asked. Faye knew enough to get by. And to not get killed. She could read it better than speak it. She glanced between the two men, sighing a bit as Winston merely grunted. “Don’t talk his ear off now,” she commented. Sitting back, figuring this far out they were in pretty good shape as far as being safe for the moment, Faye closed her eyes. “Wake me up when we get wherever the hell we’re goin’.”

Carrington merely glanced in the rearview at her, and then over at Fane. What bloody luck he’d get stuck with these two. At least the bloke seemed to have some usefulness. The woman… that was yet to be seen. At least neither of them seemed like they wanted to kill him. That was always a plus. They drove on, and he remained mostly silent through the traffic and the small town and villages here and there.

“I’m a polyglot,” Fane said by way of explanation to his comprehension of the radio station “eighteen languages and bits and pieces of several others,” it was more a fact than bragging. But it was a useful tool to have all things considered in their line of work. Communication could sometimes be the difference between life and death and it had gotten him out of most situations well enough that he was still here today. So he did his best to learn what he could. Remy managed to get some shut-eye, but the two men up front otherwise sat in silence Fane sitting staring out the window at the scenery shooting pass as they drove on. He’d asked a couple of questions, but it seemed like Winston wasn’t going to answer anything he had to ask.

Typical really.

So, it was only the radio for company and though Fane shut his eyes sleep seemed unwilling to come. Even when they arrived he merely glanced at Remy over his shoulder, slightly envious of how easy it seemed for her to pass out.

#explorer au #ex scene

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habiticanquartz · 6 years ago

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So I'm about to infodump on you guys, and it's gonna be messy. Pun intended. Feel free not to read, or to skip parts, because I feel the need to bare my soul a bit, and I beg your indulgence...

First let me start by saying I love *stuff*. I collect rocks and crystals, I have a sizable collection of stuffed characters and critters, and there are not enough bookcases in my home by far -- and even if I had enough for the books I do currently have, I'd still get more books, because books. Minimalism isn't a likely feature in my near future. ;)

I’m putting a read-more only because this is long and a bit intense. Still safe for work though.

Truth is, I've had hoarding tendencies throughout most of my life. And by tendencies I mean I was pretty much a total hoarder, even as a kid. Maybe especially as a kid. No organization, no system, no self-respect, basically, just didn't throw anything out. Some of it was laziness, some of it was sentimentality. Some of it was stubbornness. All of it was self-destructive. When I moved out of my childhood home, I moved into a roommate situation with a good friend, who is a lot more organized and cleanliness-conscious than I ever was. It was wonderful but also difficult for both of us for multiple reasons, although with her help and guidance especially I started to get better about cleaning up. Not good, not by a long shot, but better.

Then a few years ago, I moved into my own place when we had to leave our shared apartment. (She and I are still very dear friends, by the way!;) And it got pretty bad. Never as bad as my room as a kid had been; back then it was literally impossible to walk into the room. You couldn't see the carpet. My apartment was messy; there were plenty of chairs but nowhere to sit; any level surface was completely buried in *stuff*.

Like many hoarders, I've got depression, and medical and mobility issues that make it harder for me to do all of the things I want/need to on a regular basis. But a bit over a year ago, I decided I had enough and I called in a service.

It took a lot of digging. I mean, *A LOT*. I wasn't as bad as some of the hoarders you see on TV, but in the 3 years I'd been in my apartment, it was bad. I just couldn't stay on top of the cleaning, and the worse it got, the more overwhelmed I felt. I was embarrassed and angry and tired of it. My need to move forward finally outweighed my embarrassment; my wish to have friends or family come over had become stronger than my inertia.

My inclination is still to fall back into the "pile it up and get to it later" pattern -- but the piles are smaller and more controlled; I have dailies and habits set up to help me keep it under control, and when things start looking like they're going to get bad again, I call the professionals. It's expensive, which makes me want to do it less, and if I can find someone to come in and help with the heavier things every few weeks or so, I think that would be preferable. If nothing else, it would be incentive to stay on top of things so I could tell people to come by any time - and mean it.

The problem of how presentable I am at that point would be another story. ;) But at least my home is getting better. <3

#habitica #hoarding #depression #coping #infodump #sorry about that

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paperficwriter · 7 years ago

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All That Glitters (BNHA, Fantasy AU, Kiribaku)

I’m sure you’ve noticed that shapeshifting is kind of in my wheelhouse, right? How could I resist?

Dragonboy!Kirishima was very much inspired by @xkumah‘s beautiful, adorable pic of Bakugou getting sweet hugs from scaly boi. Dragon form Kiri was heavily inspired by...well, this guy.

Enjoy! Cut is for length, not for content.

---

“Get back here, you piece of shit!”

Bakugou’s feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted through the woods after the red creature. Bits of grass and dirt stuck to his skin, only making him angrier. Angry at himself for stopping to wash off in the stream, angry at the elk that had bled so much that he had had to stop to wash off in the stream, but especially angry now at whatever the hell had decided to take off with his bone and stone necklace his mother had just given him.

Not that he cared that much about the thing, but she would murder him if he came home without it.

“It’s stupid and gaudy,” he remarked when she put it around his neck. There were several layers to it, with red rocks from the mountains, shiny ocean glass, and what seemed to be bear claws. Okay, that was something he liked. “And heavy.”

She smacked him upside the head. “Don’t be a jerk. You’re old enough to know that you need to start carrying it. What are you going to give your mate when you find them, huh? That raggedy wolf pelt?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Or maybe one of those boots that smell like horse shit?”

“I get it, woman! Gods, your endless screeching is annoying.”

That had led to a night spent with the hounds. Wouldn’t be the first or the last, though. But if he had gone through all that trouble to now have it stolen by a mangy animal of some sort…

“I’ll fucking kill you!” He had just managed to get his pants back on, but his feet were bare, catching little cuts from the brush and bramble as he tore through it. He hadn’t even managed to get a good look at whatever it was, but he knew a few things: it was quick, had a long tail, and moved on four legs that left taloned marks in the ground beneath its feet. And its skin - not fur, that he knew from how the sun shone down on it as it slipped through the thicket - was a rich crimson. Maybe he could make a leather from it…

When the woods opened to a clearing, Bakugou figured this could be his best opportunity, because there was only a short distance before a cliff that dropped a quarter of a mile. He grinned savagely. “Okay,” he said, pulling his knife from his belt, pausing only when the animal turned, and he realized what he was dealing with.

It was the smallest dragon he had ever seen, with short legs and a stocky, muscular body. It blinked at him with wide eyes that shone like garnets, and it flicked at the treasure hanging from its mouth with a small pink tongue. “Drop it,” he ordered, because now that he has seen what it was, he knew he couldn’t just kill it like any other beast. It was a commonly accepted tradition that hurting a dragon - let alone killing it - could bring great misfortune, since they were considered wise and ancient creatures of the earth.

But then the so-called “sacred” being tossed its head back and swallowed Bakugou’s necklace like a damn bird with a worm, and Bakugou lost any sense of cautionary tales.

“That’s it!” Taking off at a sprint, he dove at the dragon, tackling it. He tried to bring his knife down at his flank, and the shock ran all the way up his arm. It was like stabbing a boulder, a hissing, kicking boulder. Bakugou jumped back to his feet, but as he did, he failed to take into account the massive tail until it had struck him in the middle, knocking the air out of him and blowing him back several feet.

But instead of hitting the ground, he bounced. Right over the edge of the cliff.

The wind whipped around him as he fell, head over heels, his limbs flailing, no telling which way was up or down. He reached out for the rocky face as it blurred at his side, but it only succeeded in cutting his arm. Too fast. Way too fast.

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Yet, it was.

And then, something else entirely was happening. A whistle by his ear, and then he hit a surface other than the ground, and for a second it seemed like the inside of his body was still being pulled by gravity. He chanced opening his eyes slightly, and all he could see was red. And then he heard and felt the thrumming of wings, of muscles moving beneath him, and the reality made itself known: he wasn’t dead. He was flying. On a dragon. On the dragon.

It was only a few more seconds until they landed, and when he put his feet on the ground, his knees buckled. They had arrived at the base of the cliff, and when he looked up at it, the edge where he had started seemed too far away to see clearly.

That had been too close.

“Fuck,” he gasped, gulping down a few more breaths. When he glanced up, the dragon crouched on the grass in front of him, staring at him cautiously, as if it was expecting him to attack again. Perhaps he had been too shocked to let go, but Bakugou realized he still had the knife in his hand.

Slowly, he set it on the ground between them.

And damn if the dragon didn’t take that too.

“The hell?!” Bakugou snapped, but instead of running away again, the creature trotted past him and wriggled into a bush by a rock. Bakugou followed him, finding a small hole that dropped into a cave beneath, cool and silent but for the trickle of water that had made its way from a spring deeper in the plateau and collected in a pool.

The hoard - if it could be called that - was in a bed-sized pile in the center. But instead of gold and jewels, there were fairly common items: many river stones, a broken saucer, a few coins that were more pocket change than treasure, a pot lid, a mirror, a polished chain. Perhaps the most unique item was a sword, which the dragon nosed at to make room for Bakugou’s knife, and then…

“Fucking gross!” Bakugou protested as the dragon arched its back and threw up the necklace like a cat expelling a hairball. It was covered in a film of saliva, but it seemed satisfied as it placed it around a garden statue. The massive beast moved a few more of the items with its tail before it sat on top of the collection of flotsam and puffed its chest out. “I don’t know what the hell you’re so damn happy about. This is the shittiest hoard I’ve ever seen.” The dragon made a noise. “Did you just growl at me?”

It got up and walked back toward him, and Bakugou bent his knees, ready if it tried to snap at him, but it didn’t. However, it did stand up on two of its leg, the shape of it morphing and changing, and then...it wasn’t a dragon anymore. Not exactly, anyway.

“I said it’s not shitty!” The young man who now pouted in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, still wouldn’t exactly be what Bakugou would call “human.” His tanned skin was still scattered with red scales in places, especially down his arms, and the frill around his head had become vibrant hair, pointed ears and two sizable horns. And with his still-present tail and wings, Bakugou couldn’t help wondering what the point of this form would be, because there was no way he could pass for being a normal person. “I’m still working on it.”

“Do you even have any gold?”

“Yes!” He turned back to the pile and moved things around, producing several shiny rocks flecked with yellow. “Look!”

Bakugou smirked. “That’s pyrite, you idiot.” He was surprised how immediately he regretted saying it, because his face fell, and Bakugou wondered if today would mark another first: seeing a dragon cry. He pointed at the sword. “That’s pretty cool, though, I guess. And there could be gold in the pommel. If you cleaned it up.”

“Really?!” Immediately, the sad expression switched to one of absolute glee. “I thought so too! But I don’t want to damage it. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Did you steal all of this?”

“Steal?” A small laugh and a tilt of his head. “I found them, if that’s what you mean.”

“Uh. You stole my necklace. And my knife.”

“You gave me your knife,” he pointed out. “And I found the necklace.” Bakugou glared at the very pointed way that he didn’t say it was his necklace.

“And the fact that I was running after you when you took it wasn’t any indication that I still wanted it?”

“I thought we were playing!” The man grinned, showing off sharp, pointed teeth.

“I tried to stab you!”

“I knew you couldn’t get through my hide.” His smile faded. “I didn’t mean to knock you over the cliff though. I’m sorry. I got a little too excited, and you got hurt.”

Bakugou noticed for the first time that blood was still dripping from the cut on his forearm. When he looked up again, he startled a bit, because the dragon boy had stepped up close to him, peering at it. His eyes had stayed the same...or it felt like it, at least. Before he could stop him, he grabbed Bakugou’s hand and licked the wound.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Bakugou shoved his face, but he held on, swiping it again with his slightly pointed tongue. “Get off!”

Finally, he did, and when Bakugou went to wipe his arm against his pants, he was surprised to find that the wound had closed entirely. Once the blood was rubbed away, it was like the skin had never been broken. The man grinned at him again. “The elders always say not to eat humans because they taste bad. But you taste pretty good!”

Bakugou’s face went red, and he shouldered past the strange creature and reached down to retrieve his necklace. “You might have thought you found this, but it’s mine, so I’m taking it back.”

“All of it?” There was that pitiful expression again, and he gestured with a black, pointed nail at one of the sticky threads.

“Yes, all of it!” He sighed at how disappointed he looked, and finally he removed the piece with the knotted sea glass, placing it back in the pile. It wasn’t like a dragon understood the implications, and his mother probably wouldn’t ask about it. He hoped. He considered taking the knife too, but that was more easily replaced, and he did kind of owe it to him for not letting him become a smear on the forest floor. “Fine. Here. Happy?”

He was. “Thanks!”

“Quit smiling like that.”

“Like what?” It only brightened, and then he was once more in Bakugou’s personal space, wrapping his arms around him, his tail snaking around his ankles. An odor like sulphur and burning leaves tickled Bakugou’s nose, and he stood awkwardly, not sure what to do. Was he…hugging him? “I’ve seen humans do this when they like one another. Am I doing it right?”

“It’s...okay.” Bakugou paused. “It’s not usually this long, though.”

“Oh.” He let go. “I’m Kirishima. What’s your name?”

Could he tell a magical creature his name? Wasn’t there some rule when it came to that, about them being able to bind someone if they knew their true name? Maybe just his family name would be sufficient. “Bakugou.”

“You’re going to come back, right, Bakugou?”

“How the hell could I do that? Don’t know if you noticed, but I nearly died getting here. I can’t exactly climb down easily.” Come to think of it, he didn’t know how exactly he was going to get back to the village now either...

Kirishima’s face scrunched up as he thought, then he clapped his hands together. “We can meet at that stream! Would that work?” Realization dawned on his face. “Do you want me to fly you back there?”

Fly him…? “No. I can make my own way.” He climbed back out of the hole by the bush, staring up into the sky, which glowed pink and orange as the sun slowly descended toward the horizon. Kirishima followed close behind him.

“Are you sure? It’s a half day’s hike up the side of the cliff, and then you have to climb up, and it’s really sheer…it would be quicker and easier! I don’t mind!”

Bakugou frowned at his sincerity, still wary. But to be frank, the thought of trying to make his way back up the incline did not seem appealing, especially since it was late in the afternoon now. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

Bakugou was going to have to learn quicker that he needed to be more direct with Kirishima, because no sooner had he said it than he found himself lifted into his arms and they were airborne. And Bakugou would never say that he yelped, but he certainly was surprised, and he wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s neck as he watched the ground disappear. “It’s okay!” Kirishima called over the wind. “I won’t let you fall! I promise!”

Every bone in his body screamed that he shouldn’t believe him. But he did.

And maybe that was why when he was finally on solid ground again he was willing to agree to see him again. “Tomorrow, then!”

Even if he was annoyingly eager. “Tomorrow.”

#my paperfics #boku no hero academia #kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #fantasy au #dragon!kirishima

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