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primatechnosynthpop · 3 years ago

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Wow! Against all odds, I finally got around to actually writing the follow-up to I'm Gonna Be The Anti-Hero that's existed exclusively in my head for months! Well uh here it is :3

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The secret underground room beneath Plymouth rock was dark and silent as always, save for the faint dripping of water through a crack in the ceiling. It figured that, after living there for countless centuries, the structural integrity would finally begin to erode. That dripping sound, although highly irritating when it first started a month or so ago, had now settled into background noise which John Smith paid no attention to. He was a pilgrim, not a witch; it wasn't like the water could hurt him.

Then again, he realized a few moments too late one rainy spring day, perhaps he should have reevaluated that statement. He was minding his own business sitting in his chair and reminiscing about the very old days (that was the only thing he could really do anymore, slowly decaying as his body was) when the soft and steady dripping suddenly escalated at an exponential rate into what sounded like a small waterfall. He turned his head to see a semi-transparent humanoid figure taking shape out of the water pooling in the corner--strangely tinted red, as though the water were mixed with blood. As the old pilgrim watched, jaw agape, the figure strode purposefully toward him, taking on a more solid form as it did so.

"What are you doing here, intruder?" John Smith demanded, one hand tightening around the hilt of his sword while his other hand reached behind his back to fumble for his musket.

"This secret underground room isn't government sanctioned," the stranger hissed. (Although... was he a stranger? John Smith somehow felt that he'd seen this youngster once before, but he couldn't quite place where or when.) "And you have no official identification registering you as a legal citizen. Not to mention, you haven't been paying taxes... disgraceful."

Before John Smith had the chance to concoct a retort or draw either of his weapons, the masked man's hands were around his throat and crushing his windpipe with a force that could only be driven by an inhuman amount of bloodlust. And within seconds, the life of a pilgrim that had been extended for centuries past its expiration date was finally put to an end.

"I can't believe they want us to make a clown movie at a time like this."

"I can believe it," Neil replied without looking up from the shopping list in his hand. "The studio wants a lot from us, remember? They're not going to care how sad we are. Anyway, it's been four months--" The emotions bubbling up within him refused to let his voice stay level, so he gritted his teeth and hissed out the rest of his sentence rather than let himself start crying in the middle of the dollar store. "We should be over it by now."

"Neil..." Kevin began in the way he'd often addressed Neil over the past few months--brow furrowed, voice edged with an obvious and vaguely patronizing concern--only to trail off and shake his head with a sigh. Apparently he'd finally given up on trying to make Neil feel better, which was just fine by him, because things are never gonna go back to the way they were before and it's my fault and I don't deserve to feel good about it.

"Anyway, we've got what we came for," Neil muttered, waving his hand in the general direction of Kevin's shopping basket without looking him in the eyes. "Let's go."

At the checkout counter, the cashier frowned and shook her head when Neil offered her a five-dollar bill. "Sorry," she told them, "But all this is going to cost $29.99."

"What? But we don't have that kind of money!" Neil lamented. "And we got this stuff from the clearance section... plus this is the dollar store, so shouldn't everything just cost a dollar?"

For a visual aid as he spoke, he grabbed one of the items they were ringing up--a bargain pack of multicoloured clown wigs--and shook it in the cashier's face. Apparently unmoved by his bargaining, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

"Maybe you should have checked the price tags first, sir."

"Huh? But, but..." Neil trailed off when he looked down at the price tag on the item in his hands. The bright orange tag had the original price, $7.50, crossed out and replaced with $2.35... but then below that, scribbled in tiny and barely legible font, it read "just kidding, it's actually eleven dollars now." "Aw, man," he groaned, tossing the pack down on the conveyor belt and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Just our luck."

Kevin had a thoughtful look in his eyes while he drove them home empty-handed. When he pulled up outside the clubhouse a few minutes later and they climbed out of the truck, he suddenly laid a hand on Neil's shoulder.

"Say, Neil, let's not get discouraged," he said. "I've got another idea for how we could get our hands on some props."

"Really?" Neil asked, perking up despite himself. "How?"

"Well, I think--" Kevin broke off as unexpectedly as he'd started, encouraging smile briefly dipping into a grimace. "...You know what, I'll take care of it myself. You can hold down the fort here, okay? I won't be long."

Neil's brow furrowed. "Okay, but what are you...?"

Without explaining himself any further, Kevin clapped him firmly on the back, hopped back into his truck, and drove off. Neil watched him recede down the road with bewilderment. Being all secretive like that wasn't like Kevin... Unless he's trying to protect me from something, he realized with a twinge of bitterness. That would be just like him, the way things had been recently. Ever since the past winter, and what had happened with Ryan, Kevin's latent big-brother-ish tendencies had escalated; now he watched over Neil like a hawk and freaked out every time he so much as stubbed his toe. Under different circumstances Neil would have relished being fussed over, but now it was more annoying than anything else. The thing was, he didn't deserve it. If anything... his fingers strayed up to absentmindedly fidget with the four-leaf clover pinned to his shirt. I deserve to have bad luck. I deserve to suffer, after what I did to Ryan.

Still, there wasn't much he could do about it now, and he wasn't going to say no to having the clubhouse to himself for a while. With a sigh, he disentangled his fingers from the clover's leaves, ran a hand through his overgrown bangs, and turned to head inside. Maybe he could play cards or something to pass the time.

A thick layer of dust had settled over everything in Ryan's house. That made sense, of course. It had been four months--no, five, since Ryan hadn't come home once while he was being a vigilante--since anyone had set foot there. Even so, Kevin was unprepared for the full-scale assault on his lungs when he opened the door, and promptly broke into a coughing fit.

"Man, good thing Neil stayed home," he thought aloud as he batted thick, swirling clouds of dust and spiderwebs out of his face. "The way things have been going for him lately..."

He'd probably choke to death on all this dust, he thought but didn't say aloud, and then felt bad for thinking it in the first place. Kevin didn't understand what had happened to Neil in the course of the past few days, but ever since picking up that clover, he seemed to be having a run of uncharacteristically bad luck. Whether it was random chance or something more suspicious was afoot, it sure wasn't doing much for his already thoroughly frayed nerves.

"Alright, calm down, James," he muttered to himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and ideally dispel the rest of the dust. "Focus. Concentrate. What are you here for? Props for your webisode. Right."

Keeping that objective in mind, he made his way past the front entrance and into the living room. There, a few objects were strewn around that caught his eye: a mannequin bust wearing a colourful wig; an eccentrically patterned jacket draped over a chair; a brush dipped into a rusted metal container filled with what he hoped was red paint. After looking around a little more he found a large cardboard box filled with mutilated stuffed animals, which he mostly emptied out and started filling with the useful items he came across.

All the while, a persistent feeling of unease stirred in his gut, becoming increasingly hard to ignore with each belonging of Ryan's he packed away. This is wrong. I shouldn't steal from him. Kevin paused and looked down at the box in his arms with a frown. One of the items sticking out the top, a blank-faced doll head, seemed to stare accusingly back at him. For a moment he saw it not as a plastic figure, but as a human form encased in ice and then broken apart. He blinked and the illusion quickly vanished, but an unsettling feeling remained in its wake. Neil was right; it had been months already. So why did going through Ryan's things make him feel so dirty? Ryan didn't need any of this stuff anymore. He was gone. Wasn't he?

With a weary sigh that, had anyone been around to ask, he would have accredited to the physical exertion of carrying heavy stuff around, Kevin set the box down and stepped back to survey the room he was in now. If he remembered right, this kind of room was called a study--there was an armchair with a few suspicious stains lurking beneath the dust, a desk strewn with papers all scrawled full of nonsense like the ravings of a mad scientist, and an ornate bookshelf. He wandered over to the latter furniture piece and ran his hands along the spines of the books, letting their leathery texture ground him in the present. He noticed several unusual bibles and other ancient texts, and a stash of calendars, some of which he was pretty sure had originally belonged to him or Neil; the up-to-date calendars and one of the more normal-looking bibles went into the box, while he decided everything else was better left where it was.

There was one other set of books he recognized: a teen fantasy series that Neil had often gushed about. Thinking back to the previous fall and all the events he normally tried not to think about, he experimentally lifted one of the fantasy books off the shelf. At once, just as he remembered from when Neil showed him, the bookshelf rumbled to the side and revealed a narrow staircase descending into the basement.

If anyone asked him, Kevin couldn't really say what compelled him to go down those stairs. The secret chamber was as empty as he remembered, with nothing down there that could possibly be of use for the webisode. And without a lantern, he could barely even see the only things that were there to speak of: the paintings of Ryan's ancestors.

"Ryan..." The name manifested on Kevin's lips unexpectedly as he stared, squinting through the dust and darkness, at the row of portraits grinning lopsidedly back at him. He knew the paintings couldn't hear him--hell, they weren't even paintings of Ryan himself, just his relatives. But their faces were practically identical to him, that face he hadn't seen in person for nearly half a year, and that alone was enough to clog up his throat with unbearable emotions.

The thought of It's a good thing Neil isn't here for this surfaced again, and this time Kevin had to agree with himself. Losing a close friend was... well, there was no way not to take it hard. But Neil seemed to have taken it particularly hard, even blaming himself, to the point where any mention of Ryan would immediately send him straight back into a depressive spiral no matter how happy he'd been a moment earlier. That was why Kevin had kept this idea a secret from his friend in the first place--that, and he wasn't sure if it was going to pan out and didn't want to get Neil's hopes up. He figured that if Neil asked where he got all the stuff he'd found, he'd just say it was from a garage sale.

Now, looking into the achingly familiar manic blue eyes of those portraits mounted on the wall, Kevin thought of those news reports about the mysterious killings that had been going on around town. If that really was Ryan, and he was somehow still alive...

"Why?" he whispered. Without really thinking, he reached out and pressed his hand against the painting as if to cup its cheek. "Why haven't you come home, Ryan? Where are you?"

The target was at home, alone in her bedroom playing video games. Casual, unbothered by any harm her actions may have caused. Shameful. In an icy swirl of perhaps not-so-righteous fury, the vigilante took form in the corner of her room and crept up behind her. With an average build and no weapons at the ready, she would be no trouble to dispose of.

"Playing dead in order to toy with an innocent man's feelings," he growled. "Some people would call it ghosting. I call it a crime punishable by death."

"Jesus christ, what the fuck?!" Wendy yelped as she spun to face the vigilante. "How'd you get in here?"

"You shouldn't worry about that," he told her, gloved hands already flexing in anticipation of tightening around her neck. Or perhaps this time he'd thrust his hand straight through her chest and rip out her heart--an appropriate punishment for her crimes. "You'll have plenty of time to figure it out once I send you to hell."

"Okay, seriously? What is happening here?" Eyes narrowed, Wendy put her game on pause and got to her feet to stare the vigilante down. "You said something about me playing dead..." Her eyes suddenly widened with recognition, and the vigilante waited for the fear to set in along with it, but instead she shook her head and laughed. A pitying laugh. "Wait, you're not friends with that, uh, that filmmaker guy, are you? Geez, I seriously must have dodged a bullet there."

"Filmmaker..." the vigilante murmured as the word echoed in his mind. Yes, that's right. The man she stood up was a filmmaker... of a sort. (How did he know that? How did he even know who this woman was? Those questions weren't worth dwelling on, he decided.) "You may have thought you dodged a bullet back then, but I'm here to see that the bullet circles back around and destroys you like you deserve."

Wendy crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, any trace of fear on her face outmatched by her sad, pitying smile. "Sure, keep the edgy sayings coming, Mr. Hot Topic. And what's with the getup, anyway?" she added with a nod to the vigilante's predominantly dark outfit. "Must be kinda warm."

Warm? The vigilante snorted derisively. No, of course he wasn't too warm. His blood, as it always had for as far back as he could clearly remember, ran cold like that of a snake. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been warm. And he certainly couldn't remember a time when he'd worn anything other than his current ensemble. Rather than waste time telling this insufferable woman as much, though, he simply took a few purposeful strides to close the distance between them, hands extended and more than ready to kill.

"Ugh, get away from me, creep!"

In a startlingly swift motion, Wendy's leg shot out and connected with the vigilante's ankles, sending him toppling to the floor. He hissed in irration, though not in pain--when his sensations were already perpetually numb, it would take a lot more than that to hurt him--and got to his feet, dusting himself off with a scowl. In the few seconds this took, Wendy grabbed a baseball bat from the corner of the room. Now she stood brandishing it in perfect athletic form with a battle-ready glint in her eye.

"Not another step, you hear me?" When the vigilante didn't dignify her with a response, she gritted her teeth and gave the bat a twirl--attempting to show off, it seemed, but her hands shook slightly and she nearly dropped the bat, only barely managing to regain her grip on it. "My mom is in the other room right now, and... well, she hasn't done anything wrong, so you don't want to punish her, right? And if anything happens to me..."

He stiffened at Wendy's mention of her mother. An innocent citizen? That was the type of person a vigilante was meant to protect at all costs; otherwise vigilante justice was no better than the police. But no one is innocent in this city. Even so, he understood the implicit threat--not that Wendy's mother would bring him down herself, but that either woman could very well call the police. And the last thing he wanted was to get law enforcement involved.

"...Fine," he snarled at last, turning on his heel with a twirl of his vigilante cape. "You can live a while longer. But I'll be back, and then you'll regret your sins."

He heard her gasp but didn't bother sparing her another glance as he let his form dissolve into a splash of red-tinted ice, sinking through her floorboards and off to thwart another criminal.

Slowly and carefully as a technician deactivating a bomb, Neil set the three of spades down across the top of the three other cards he'd lined up on the table. The humble beginnings of a tower stood for a moment, and he held his breath eagerly as he reached for another card to place on top, only for it to suddenly shudder and collapse like an anime girl who'd stood in the rain for too long.

"Dang it!" Neil threw his hands in the air in exasperation. When he did, a droplet of his own blood landed on his glasses, and he realized with a start that his hand was bleeding--just a paper cut, but still, he'd better wash up.

As he ran his hand under cold water, transfixed by the sight of the blood swirling down the drain, a sudden cracking noise rang out just above him. His head snapped up to stare at the spontaneously cracked bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back, stricken and gaunt, as shards of shattered glass rained down into the sink, where they mixed with the water and the blood. Neil shivered, his breath quickening.

Icy water... ice, blood, broken mirrors. All mixed together. Shattered. Blood, guts, ice, mixed together, down the drain. My fault my fault my fault my fault--

"No," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his nails into his scalp as hard as he could. "No! I didn't do it, I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

Deep breaths, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. It sounded like Kevin's voice, worried to the point of being slightly patronizing. Neil grimaced, annoyed at his own brain for manifesting its self-preservation in such a way, but he complied nonetheless. Keeping his eyes wrenched shut, he took several deep breaths in and out until his heartbeat slowed to normal--he hadn't even noticed it speeding up--and his hands didn't shake when he lowered them away from his head.

"Hey, you know what'd really make me feel better?" he said aloud to nobody in particular, putting on a broad smile and wiping his hands off on a towel. "A nice hot bath! Yep, that'll counteract my blood running cold, alright..."

He ran his hands up and down his arms as he spoke, although he didn't know who he was trying to fool; the chill that had settled into his bones had nothing to do with the temperature. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure who this whole performance of forced cheerfulness was meant for... the studio, maybe. He wouldn't put it past them to hide cameras everywhere. Either way, even if it wouldn't fix his psychological issues, a bath really would be pretty nice. He put the plug in and started running the tub, with the water temperature set just hot enough that it would scald him a little at first.

He wasn't sure exactly what happened when he sat down on the edge of the tub to take his socks off, whether he slipped on something or leaned too far back or what, but suddenly he lost balance. And by the time he realized he was falling backward, he only had a split-second to curse his rotten luck before his head connected with the wall and he blacked out.

In the end, Kevin managed to get a pretty good haul from Ryan's house. In addition to the stuff he and Neil could use for their webisode, he'd retrieved the calendars and a couple other things it looked like Ryan had stolen from them, as well as their old communicator wristwatches. (He wasn't sure if the watches fell into the camp of things Ryan had stolen, or if they'd just brought them over to his place for a sleepover once and forgotten them there. Either way, Kevin figured it could come in handy to start using them again.)

"Hey, Neil," he called as he stepped into the clubhouse with the box in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. "I'm back."

There was no reply. Frowning, Kevin set the box down with a slight grunt of effort and wandered through the living room and down the hall. There were a few playing cards scattered on the table, suggesting that Neil had been trying to make a house of cards but given up halfway. Kevin couldn't really blame him for that; assembling cards in such a way that they'd actually stay upright was yet another thing that had been more in Ryan's ballpark than in either of theirs. Still, that didn't explain where Neil was now...

"Neil? You there, bud?" Still being met with no answer, Kevin came to a stop outside the bathroom door, which was ajar with water pooling out from inside. "Oh, man, that's not a good sign..."

He gave a tentative knock, and when there was still no response, grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that met his eyes when he did so immediately made his breath hitch and his blood run cold. The broken mirror over the vanity reflected his slack-jawed expression as he stared at the overflowing bathtub, the pair of still-clothed legs dangling over the rim, and the smudge of blood on the wall leading down to the head of the man those legs belonged to, slumped inside the tub with his head submerged in the water.

"Neil!!"

Kevin sprinted across the room to lift Neil out of the tub. It then took him a few seconds longer to turn off the faucet and pull the plug, as by that point the shock had turned to dread and his hands were shaking. Once the water was slowly starting to drain, he fell to his knees and pulled Neil tight to his chest, one hand clutching at the back of his soaked-through t-shirt while the other fumbled across the back of his head searching for the source of the blood. It didn't take long for him to find the slightly matted patch of damp hair indicating where Neil had banged his head against the wall. Kevin swallowed hard as dread leapt up to claw at his throat. The only question is... how long was he submerged?

"Neil," he whispered, and was almost embarrassed to hear how hoarsely his own voice came out. "Wake up. Please."

No response. Kevin reluctantly pulled back to hold Neil at an arm's length, and shuddered at how limply his friend's body flopped forward. He noticed, with a white-hot jolt of irrational anger, that the four-leaf clover was still in place. Fat lot of good that thing's done for him. He grabbed the clover and crumpled it in his fist, all the while tears pressed against the back of his eyes; he struggled not to let them fall. Damn it... first Ryan, now Neil... What kind of protector was he? What kind of friend?

He slammed his fist, the useless clover still clenched within, against the drenched floor tiles. At that moment, the lightbulb above his head exploded and sent sparking wires raining down around him. As soon as electricity met water, it sent a nasty shock through Kevin's veins; he screamed out of equal parts surprise and pain and scrambled up onto the countertop, which was barely wide enough to support him.

On the floor below, Neil's body convulsed. Then his eyes snapped open and he drew in a gasp that turned into a scream halfway through. Although touching his friend's hand sent the current through his own body for a moment, Kevin was quick to grab him anyway, and he managed to pull Neil safely out of the electrified water and into a fierce embrace. Neil kept shrieking, and he squirmed frantically around, not seeming to recognize his surroundings at first.

"It's alright, Neil," Kevin assured him despite how hard his own heart was pounding. "I've got you."

"Oh..." Neil's body slackened, and he pulled back to blink slowly at Kevin, realization dawning in his eyes. His cheeks coloured with embarrassment and he ducked his head. "Uh, thanks."

Neither of them said anything else, for lack of ability or perhaps willingness to put it into words. After a moment, Kevin realized he was still holding the clover, and he handed it back to Neil, who took it with a dip of his head and a murmur of acknowledgement, and pinned it to his soaking wet t-shirt.

Somehow out of everything in the room, themselves included, that little scrap of plant matter was still intact. And although he wasn't superstitious, that simple fact was what would stick in Kevin's mind for the rest of the day, turning it over until he could only conclude: Yep, there's definitely something weird going on with that thing.

Despite the many months he'd prowled the city, this was the vigilante's first time in the hideout of a proper gang. It looked about the way he expected: dimly lit, no windows, weapons hung up on the wall and cigarette butts littering the floor. The gang members, dressed primarily in leather jackets with a few in denim, lounged in chairs leaning too far back, or on top of tables, or on their motorcycles parked right in the middle of the room. Most of them didn't even notice the vigilante as he approached. They were too caught up chattering and cackling amongst themselves like a nest of overgrown crows. The one gang member who did seem to notice the vigilante from the get-go simply looked up at him with raised eyebrows and addressed him once he got close enough to strike.

"Hey, haven't seen you around before. Looking to join the club?"

"Hardly," he snarled. "This whole place is crawling with criminals."

The whole room broke into laughter at that. The vigilante gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. These people were different from the criminals he'd taken down before; between their numbers and all the weapons they had easy access to, they might just pose a serious threat if he wasn't careful.

"You're the ones, aren't you?" he went on once the laughter had died down and the gang members were all watching him with a mix of bemusement and curiosity. No trace of fear amongst them yet, but that would change... "Throwing bricks at innocent people, even seeking to damage their property. Absolutely detestable."

"Woah, hang on," another of the gang members cut in sharply, reaching for a weapon as they stood. "First off, the whole brick throwing thing was months ago. Second of all, we never did that to innocent people, you know!"

"Yeah!" yet another gang member cut in, pumping her fist in the air. "Only to those losers who blew up our boss!"

...Boss?

The vigilante slowly turned, a deeper chill than normal running down his spine, as a strangely familiar smug cackle echoed from behind him. He came face-to-face with a man in a tank top and baseball cap, sneering at him with his arms crossed. Max. Gulping, the vigilante took a step backward. He's their boss?

(How did he know that name? How had he known Wendy's name either, for that matter? Why, out of all the criminals in the city, did a select few ignite disproportionate resentment within him? He'd dealt with some of these people before, he knew, but when he tried to remember when and how it all just turned to slush in his brain.)

"Yep, those losers got what was coming to 'em," Max said. "Except not really, 'cause they didn't suffer enough. But it's okay, we'll get 'em extra hard next time."

"No..." For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the vigilante's voice shook with equal parts fury and sudden fear. "Don't you dare hurt them."

"Huh?" Max tilted his head, already slightly squinted eyes narrowing further. "Heyyy, wait a minute, aren't you one of--?"

Before he could finish that thought, the vigilante was upon him with a karate chop to the windpipe. It was a more reckless attack than he'd planned, and even as Max stumbled backward coughing, he could hear the rest of the gang grabbing their weapons and running up behind him. But it was fine; the vigilante could take them all on and then some. He could kill any number of people if it was for the sake of defending his friends.

(Friends? Did he have friends? Somehow it felt that he must have, once. But that was strange, because the only thing he could clearly remember himself ever being was a cold-blooded vigilante.)

"Don't you see? Society's the one to blame! It's society's fault that he had no choice but to become this way!"

As Kevin delivered this speech, waving his arms dramatically toward the focus of the scene, Neil spun the video camera around to point it toward himself. Hopefully the studio would think of the disorienting cinematography for this webisode as a bold artistic choice rather than thinking of it as amateurish and embarrassing. He then leapt back, breaking into maniacal laughter with his prop gun raised in the air. Under ideal circumstances, this role might have been better suited to Ryan, but... well, they couldn't stay hung up on him forever; they had a job to do.

"Eh-heh-heh! Thanks to society, I have the urge to kill!" Neil twirled around to show off his clown costume, while just out of frame, Kevin hastily put on a wig and fake mustache. "And now... I'll kill this innocent man, who's different than the guy who was talking a minute ago!"

(It was fascinating--fascinating and dumb--how a broken mirror and a bit of blood could set him off, but something as heavy as a gun in his hand only brought him the faintest twinge of discomfort, easily ignored for the sake of making a webisode. After all, as Kevin had assured him many times over the past few months, it was the gun and its villainous weilder who were to blame for what had happened to Ryan. On an intellectual level Neil knew that was true--and besides, if he hadn't deflected that bullet, all three of them would have died. But knowing that did nothing to redirect when and why the darkness in his brain manifested.)

Now, much to Neil's surprise as he took aim with his prop gun, Kevin shouted "Cut!" and walked across the abandoned lot they were filming in to turn the camera off.

Neil lowered the gun, confused, as his costar removed his costume with that now all-too-familiar look of concern etched across his face. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know... somehow I've just got a bad feeling about this," Kevin muttered. "Maybe try firing into the air a couple times first."

Neil complied, and was met with the expected result from the prop: a couple of clicks indicating an empty chamber. "You worry too much these days, Kev," he said as he fired one more blank into the sky and then lowered the prop again. "It's not a real gun; it can't--"

As he spoke, his finger accidentally pressed the trigger again, and he broke off with a yelp at the sudden burst of pain in his right foot. He dropped the apparently very real gun with a clatter and clutched at his injured appendage, losing his balance in the process. Kevin swore under his breath and rushed forward to catch him. Before his friend could reach him, Neil's other foot came down on a wide crack in the pavement. A chill ran through him, momentarily distracting him from the throbbing pain, but it passed as quickly as it arose without seeming to trigger any effects.

"By god, what's happening to you?" Kevin exclaimed as he grabbed Neil by the shoulders and held him upright. "You've been so unlucky lately, it... it almost seems like a curse."

"A curse?" Neil stiffened, but quickly forced himself to shrug and morphed his grimace into a dismissive eye-roll. "Pfft, what are you talking about? There's no curse! I've just been, y'know, having an off-day..."

"Neil." There was that concerned look again, that almost parental tone of voice, as Kevin stared him down and tightened his grip on Neil's shoulders. "A couple hours ago you almost died, and now... you can tell something weird is going on, right? And, look--" He sighed, gaze darkening. "I don't exactly know how to fix it, but whatever's happening, I can't just sit back and watch you succumb to it. I can't lose you, too, Neil... not after..."

He trailed off with a faint warble in his voice, lowering his head. Neil gulped, a heavy weight surfacing in his chest. It was true; though he hated to admit it, at this point it was hard to deny that he was cursed. And yet, even as his foot throbbed around the spot where the bullet was lodged and his shoe was slowly stained from within by his own blood, it was hard to convince himself that he should accept help. On some level, didn't he deserve this? Wasn't this a fitting comeuppance for getting one of his friends killed?

Yet here was his other friend, clutching at him ever tighter to the point where his grip on Neil's shoulders was nearly as painful as hitting his head or getting mildly electrocuted or shooting himself in the foot. I'm not the only one who lost Ryan, he reminded himself--another thing he knew perfectly well on an intellectual level, but easy to forget in practice. Kevin is hurting too. I shouldn't make him hurt any more.

"Fine, I admit it," he sighed, letting his tensed-up shoulders slump. "I'm unlucky, okay? And if you think it's possible--" He tore the clover off his shirt and glared down at it-- "then we're going to beat this thing."

For as tough as the gang presented themselves, it must have been most of these people's first time in an actual fight. The vigilante swerved to avoid weak punches, clumsy kicks, poor attempts at stabbing. It all blended together after a while, and he stopped thinking of the gang members as individuals; they were just an indistinguishable swarm of insects whose attacks were easily dodged. Unimportant, save for their leader.

The vigilante had Max pinned to the floor now, holding his thrashing form in place with one arm while he brought his other fist down on the ruffian's face, over and over, as hard as he could. Not every blow connected cleanly, and Max had managed to bite him several times already, but that was irrelevant. Criminals must be brought to justice. That was why the vigilante hated these people, wasn't it? Because they were criminals. Yes, what other reason could he have, when this was all he'd ever been?

And then, just as he managed to land a blow to Max's jaw that left him defiantly spitting out blood and a couple of teeth, the vigilante's spine snapped.

It took a moment for him to register what had happened. He just heard a loud crack, and a sharp pain shot through him, and suddenly he couldn't hold his legs in place and collapsed. Max wasted no time taking advantage; he delivered a kick to the vigilante's gut that sent him flying back across the room, where he hit a wall and slumped to the ground, gasping in breathless agony. At once the other gang members closed in on him. Grimacing, the vigilante drew himself up onto his hands and knees, then braced himself against the wall and, with a far greater strain of effort than expected, dragged himself upright. By the time he'd managed to get to his feet, dozens of knives were inches away from him.

Then, to his surprise, Max pushed through to the front of the crowd and held his arms out to hold back his underlings. "Nuh-uh, this one's mine," he told them, sneering as though oblivious to the blood dribbling from between his lips. "I said I'd get him twice tomorrow, and I meant it."

The vigilante flinched as Max took a swipe at him. But rather than a fist connecting with his face, he was met only with the shock of exposure as the bully grabbed his mask and triumphantly yanked it off his face. He was left dumbfounded, blinking, as his vision readjusted to the light.

Wait a minute, I remember--

And then came the punch, square in the nose. Ryan yelped, pressing his gloved hand over his nose to stop the bleeding. When he dodged another punch, his body failed to cooperate and he crashed to the ground again, back aching furiously and heart pounding against his ribcage.

How and why his back had broken, he couldn't say, but one thing was clear: he was horrendously outmatched. Max was saying something now, gloating as he advanced on Ryan with a dagger in his hands, but Ryan couldn't make out the words over the blood rushing in his head. Why on earth had he gotten into a fight like this in the first place? What was he doing? He had to get out of there!

With that thought, yet another thing happened that Ryan didn't entirely understand. (Ryan didn't understand, but the vigilante did. It was one of the few things the vigilante knew: dissolve, reform, enact ruthless vengeance, dissolve again.) His body shuddered, and suddenly he found his solid flesh and bone giving way to a slurry of blood and ice that slipped through the cracks in the floor and disappeared. Then he was formless, freefalling through the dark, or at least that was what it felt like. When he took shape again it felt like dragging himself out of quicksand. Yet when he raised his slowly resolidifying head and looked around, he found himself in the basement of his own home, staring up at the portraits of his ancestors that had started it all.

No. Not started it all. "I had a life before this," he whispered, voice raw with the shock of memory and too many months spent speaking in an inhuman growl. "My name is Ryan, I have a life and a job and friends, I..."

Yes, that's right. Friends. Where were they? He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Each recent memory that took form in his mind was accompanied by a crashing wave of guilt and regret, and soon his body shook and tears pricked at his wrenched-shut eyes. That's right... I became a vigilante, and I teamed up with such a horrible person, let him manipulate me, all because I was too afraid to go back and apologize. And then...

The last thing he remembered, just after the flash of light and shock of paralyzing cold, was the sound of a gunshot, something shattering, and Neil screaming.

"Oh, dear god," Ryan whispered. He raised his head, opening his eyes and lowering his hands from his newly tear-stained face, and sat back on his heels as though worshipping the paintings before him. "What have I become?"

The ropes were just slightly too tight around Neil's limbs to be comfortable; he couldn't resist squirming a little as Kevin laid out the open bible on the end table next to his proton pack and began reading from it.

"Okay, um, let's see... ex-or-ciz-amus te, omnis immunde spiritus..." He squinted at the yellowed, faded pages, biting his lip. "Omni satanica pot-es-tas, omnis incurs--incursio infernalis adversarii... uh..."

"You're doing great," Neil called from his position tied to the bed frame; Kevin gave him a weary smile and thumbs up.

As Kevin continued reciting the verse, occasionally stumbling over a particularly tricky Latin word, the room's temperature eventually dropped a few degrees. Neil shivered, but his heartbeat picked up in excitement. He could feel something stirring in his blood like ripples on a lake, and when the furniture in the room began to quiver, so too did his body in eager anticipation.

"...Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux..." A chill wind swept through the room; Kevin gritted his teeth, one hand pressing down on the bible to hold its pages in place while he grabbed his proton pack with the other. "Vade retro Satana! Nun-quam-suade mihi vana!"

The furniture rumbled louder. Neil's eyes widened as an entire bookcase lifted off the ground. "Kevin, watch out!"

"Hang on, Neil, I'm almost done. Uh, where was I... sunt mala quae libas..."

"No, Kevin, the--"

"Just one more line, okay? Ipse ven--"

"KEVIN!"

That last terrified yell was what it took for Kevin to finally turn, just in time to see the six-foot block of polished oak fly directly into him. Neil shrieked and thrashed against his bindings with all his might, but even if he weren't tied up, there was nothing he could have done. The bookcase came crashing down, its contents spilling out onto the floor around it in a flurry of paper. And when the dust settled, Kevin was pinned beneath it, unmoving.

"N... no..." Neil whimpered. Dread tightened like a noose around his throat as the horrible thought seeped into his mind: This is because of me. Now I've gotten them both killed.

"Oh, yes, what a tragedy... just your luck, isn't it?"

Neil's blood ran cold. He raised his head to see the translucent, smoke-shrouded figure of a giant clover looming over him. Its four leaves, dark green tipped with crimson and speckled with barnacles, opened down the middle to reveal a row of needle-sharp fangs. For a second, "Where did you come from?" was on the tip of Neil's tongue. But it was just as well that he was too terrified to speak, because no sooner than the question appeared in his mind, he realized the obvious answer. Oh, right. This is the demon that cursed me.

"Don't worry, your friend is alive... for now," the demon jeered. "But that could change. It's so easy for accidents to happen, you know?"

As if to demonstrate, the demon's leaves fluttered and suddenly a fire sprang up dangerously close to the scattered pile of books on the floor. When Neil screamed in protest, the demon laughed, and part of the ceiling gave in, sending down a controlled shower of debris to put out the fire before anything flammable could catch.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Neil exclaimed with a shake of his head; he'd be almost exasperated if he weren't so terrified. "You're really powerful and want to hurt people, geez, not exactly a challenging concept. So, what do I have to do?"

That question seemed to give the demon pause. "...Do?"

"You know, to appease you or whatever. If you're threatening me with Kevin's life, then there must be something you want from me, right?" An idea occurred to Neil just then, and his already hammering heart beat even harder, to the point where he hoped the demon couldn't hear it and tell how freaked out he was. "Hey, it must suck having to be a clover. What if a lawnmower or forest fire had gotten to you before I did? And if you like hurting people so much..." He paused, smirking as the demon leaned toward him with obvious interest. "Wouldn't it be easier just to possess my whole body instead of wasting time messing with my luck?"

"That's..." The demon hesitated, its leaves curling up in what looked like excitement. "Ah. Ah-ha-ha! You're a clever little mortal, aren't you?"

"But don't get it twisted," he put in, glaring defiantly up at the demon despite hardly being in a position to threaten anyone. "You have to promise not to hurt anyone else. Especially not Kevin."

"It's a deal!"

Before Neil could stop and reconsider whether this was really a good idea, the demon dove toward him, row of fangs wide open as though it were going to bite his head off. He flinched a split-second before something cold and stinging like nettles clamped around him.

When he opened his eyes again, the world was tinted dark green as if viewed through a dingy screen, his head felt hazy... and he couldn't move, at least not of his own volition. Even opening his eyes just then wasn't his decision. He heard himself cackle, felt his arms and legs flex far harder than he'd known he was physically capable of flexing, breaking the ropes that bound him to the bed frame and setting his body free to do whatever the demon wanted.

"Hah..." the demon muttered in his voice as it made him walk over to where Kevin lay, still trapped and unconscious. The demon knelt down and poked experimentally at Kevin's shoulder and forearm. "This one has more muscle. It might have been a better choice for possession, if it wasn't so damaged already..."

For one petrifying moment, the demon grabbed Kevin's head and stared intently at him, stretching Neil's face into a grin so wide it made his whole face ache, and Neil's mind raced with horrible thoughts of things the demon might make his own hands inflict upon his poor helpless friend. But the demon simply laughed and dropped Kevin, who let out a low groan as his head lolled to the side--an indication that at least he really was still alive. But all of a sudden Neil had trouble believing that small mercy was really worth it.

"Ah, well, this body will do," the demon decided. "Let's take it out on the town and see how long it lasts!"

This time when the vigilante materialized in Wendy's room, she did little more than roll her eyes and move to grab her baseball bat. However, rather than try to attack her or even growl out any threats, the vigilante took two shaky steps and then collapsed, catching himself against her dresser. Wendy's eyes widened as she took a closer look at his face. His mask was off now, revealing a pair of striking blue eyes glistening with obvious distress, cheeks flushed with exertion, and a streak of half-dried blood running from his bruised nose. And when he spoke, it wasn't in the gravelly tone she'd heard from him before, but in a quiet higher-pitched voice--almost a whimper.

"Please... tell me..."

Wendy hung back, caught between a sharp tug of sympathy in her heart and a very rational wariness based on their previous encounter. The vigilante tried to walk again, and again nearly fell; his face wrenched up and he let out a pained hiss. At that, sympathy won out over rationality. Wendy edged toward him with her baseball bat in hand, and when she was close enough, held it out to him.

"Hey, uh... here. It's not exactly medically sanctioned, but maybe you could use this like a cane?"

"Oh... good idea, thank you!" He broke into a grin, and Wendy shivered; somehow he was far scarier when his eyes were bright and cheerful. "Terribly sorry for how I treated you last time, by the way. I really wasn't myself."

"Uh-huh?" While the vigilante tested out the makeshift cane, Wendy sat down on her bed, arms crossed. "And who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Ryan... or at least I think I still am." His smile faltered, and he looked away, anxiously running a hand through his hair. It was starting to come unpinned, and his hat was askew; evidently he'd been through a lot in the few hours it had been since their first encounter. "It's been... strange, lately. I don't think I'm entirely human anymore, if I ever was. But I came back here because there's something I want to understand."

"You want to know why I ghosted your friend?" It was just a guess, but Ryan nodded; Wendy smiled privately to herself for having figured it out. "Alright, I can tell you..."

She uncrossed her arms and leaned back on her bed, thinking back to the disastrous date she'd gone on several months prior. It was a story she'd recited many times to friends, relatives, other first dates as sort of a half-joking warning ("So, as long as you don't blow it as much as that guy did, we should be good...") and the more she told it, the more warped and exaggerated it became within her memory. But when she really thought back on it now, it hadn't been so disastrous at all--pretty damn awkward, sure, but not even close to the worst date she'd been on.

"Kevin actually seemed really sweet," she recalled, smiling despite herself at the memory of his big dorky grin. "I would have gone on a second date with him. But then, first thing the next morning, I read in the news that some guy got arrested right outside the restaurant while we were on our date. And the criminal's name? Neil. Same name as the 'friend' Kevin had said was helping him out." She shrugged, lips twisting into a frown. "I just got kinda freaked out, you know? Like, 'oh geez, did I go on a date with a drug dealer or serial killer or something?' Of course it probably wasn't anything that serious, and pretending to be dead was probably an overreaction, but... well, what's done is done."

Wendy was so caught up in her own memories as she explained all this that she wasn't really observing Ryan's reactions. Once she concluded her story, she glanced over to find him sitting on the floor with his legs tucked up awkwardly beneath him, the baseball bat in his lap; he was staring at the floor, expression unreadable. He stayed like that for a long moment, not seeming to notice that Wendy had stopped talking, until she cleared her throat. Then he jumped to attention, eyes flashing like those of a woodland cryptid in headlights.

"Ah! Yes, of course... well, I still don't entirely understand, but I think I resent you less now." Ryan tilted his head and shot her another shiver-inducing grin. (Whether it was supposed to be threatening or not, she had no idea.) "And you're right; I almost forgot--we're all criminals too, Neil and probably even Kevin and especially myself! So how can I be a vigilante?" He answered his own rhetorical question with a shake of his head, manic grin softening into a melancholy smile. "It's ridiculous. I've been so foolish."

With that, his body began to ripple, losing a little of its solidity. But before he could break apart and dissolve through the floorboards like last time, a chirpy little beep-beep-beedle-beep noise rang out. Ryan's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced down at an accessory around his wrist... Wait, is that one of those communicator watches like the one Kevin had?

If it was, Ryan wasn't quick to answer it. He simply stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the beeping device in silence. Although she knew even less about Ryan than she knew about his apparently only slightly more normal friends, and she didn't normally care to get too involved in the personal affairs of strangers, he was still in the middle of Wendy's bedroom. And the longer that little jingle repeated, the more annoying it got. So she cleared her throat again and asked, in as polite a tone as she could manage given the circumstances,

"So, are you gonna answer that, or what?"

It was a stupid, pointless idea. Not an idea at all, really. Just the last scraps of... not even hope, that was pretty much deplenished at the moment, but effort. The effort not to let everything fall apart even further than it already had.

Kevin had woken with a throbbing pain throughout pretty much his whole body. Judging by the crushing weight pressing down on his torso, he was lucky to have woken up at all. The only parts of him not pinned down were his head and right arm, and even those hurt to move, though at least the spinning in his head put some degree of separation between himself and his broken body. Forget about trying to wriggle free when it hurt just to breathe.

So there he was, stuck, the shelf slowly crushing the air out of him, and Neil was gone. Where to, he didn't know. When he craned his neck he could see the empty bed frame, and the ropes broken and discarded at the foot of it. The bible he'd gotten from Ryan's house was facedown beside the tipped-over end table, next to a crushed and twisted lump of metal and plastic that he was horrified to recognize as his beloved proton pack. So wherever Neil was now, he must have still been cursed... or worse. And there was nothing Kevin could do about it.

Unless. Grimacing at the way his joints twinged, he raised his unpinned arm above his head. There on his wrist, perfectly intact despite everything he'd been through, was his communicator wristwatch. In all the hubbub of that day, he'd never gotten around to mentioning them to Neil, so his friend wouldn't be wearing his. But what if...?

It was stupid. It was pointless. There was no way in hell. But it was the only thing he could do. In a display so lacking in dignity that he was grateful nobody was around to see it, Kevin used his teeth and tongue for lack of a free hand to dial in the frequency and send off a signal. The watch's screen flashed in affirmation; he let his head flop against the floor with a weary sigh. Now all he could do was wait.

When he was at Ryan's house going through his things, and he found those communicator wristwatches, he'd only found two of them. And although that could have meant a dozen different things, there was just one wild, far-fetched possibility that any last semblance of hope now rested upon: that the third watch was missing because Ryan was alive, and he was still wearing his.

He didn't expect to get a response. By the time he did, he was struggling to stay awake--funny thing, trying to breathe with fifty pounds of wood pressed directly on your chest really takes it out of you. But he snapped to attention, or the closest he could get when his head was swimming and his body was beginning to go numb from lack of circulation, the moment he heard that voice crackling through the speaker.

"H-hello? Kevin?"

The relief that coursed through his veins was so overwhelming, especially on top of everything else, that he could only laugh--only for it to quickly turn into hacking as his ribs offered a sharp jab of protest. He raised his sleeve to wipe away a streak of blood that dribbled from his lips before speaking into the watch.

"Ryan. Where are you?" He regretted wasting time with that question the moment he asked it; he could tell from the way his organs felt like they were curling in on themselves as he spoke that he didn't have the energy for a full conversation. So before Ryan could stammer out a proper response, Kevin continued: "Neil is in trouble. You've gotta help him."

"What?" The shrill uptick of anxiety in Ryan's voice was palpable, and even just hearing that voice in and of itself stirred up a whole miasma of feelings that there was no time to properly react to. "What's going on? Are you okay? You sound--"

"I'm fine," Kevin lied through gritted teeth. "And... I don't know exactly where Neil is, but I know he's in trouble." A choking mix of emotions and his own blood swelled in his throat as his slowly blurring gaze wandered to the facedown bible. "I've tried to do some stuff today that I couldn't do without you. I-- we need you, Ryan. So, please... help."

With that final plea, something broke within him like a dam that he hadn't even realized was cracking. His arm flopped to the ground, wrist landing near his ear, where the communicator watch kept emitting Ryan's voice as it slowly rose in pitch until he was almost shouting. But even as his friend called frantically out to him, Kevin found it harder to make out the words. He groaned, letting his head loll to the side and his eyes fall shut. The last sensation he was aware of as darkness closed around him was that there was something wet on his face.

"Kevin, are you still there? Hello? Kevin!"

He wasn't responding. Why wouldn't he be responding, if the situation was so urgent? Maybe because he couldn't respond. Because he was--

"What are you going to do?" Wendy's voice cut into the swirl of panic Ryan was rapidly descending into. She hovered over his shoulder, peering down at the watch with wide, anxious eyes. The watch's screen had gone dark. No signal. Yes, indeed, what to do?

"What else? I have to save Neil."

If Kevin didn't know where Neil was, then there was no way that Ryan should have been able to instantly find him. But when he closed his eyes and let his vigilante instincts take over, he found that he didn't have to know where someone was. Whatever dark magic was infused in him now, letting him exist in this not-quite-human state even after what should by all accounts have been his death, it was hardwired for vengeance. And saving Neil meant exacting vigilante justice on whoever or whatever was harming him. With that in mind, the vigilante dissolved in a flurry of blood-tinted ice and reformed seconds later in the place it somehow knew it needed to be.

The first thing Ryan noticed when he appeared on the rooftop was the storm brewing overhead. He raised his eyebrows at that; earlier that day there hadn't been a cloud in the sky--and for that matter, when he looked around, it appeared that most of the sky was still perfectly clear, with the storm clouds being localized around this building. The second thing he noticed, upon peering over the edge of the roof, was that he wasn't on just any rooftop, but a skyscraper that towered above every other building in the vicinity. Lastly, he noticed a flagpole at the far corner of the rooftop, several feet away from him. And that was when his gaze fell upon Neil.

Neil was laughing as he swayed back and forth, clad in a brightly patterned jacket that wasn't his usual style at all, his arms and legs wrapped tight around the tall metal pole. Above him, the dark clouds lit up in a flash, followed almost instantly by a rumble of thunder. Although these particular stormclouds didn't come with rain, Ryan shivered. An incredulous exclamation was on the tip of his tongue (What on earth are you doing, stop it, you'll be killed!) when Neil locked eyes with Ryan, and he realized with a jolt of horror that this wasn't Neil at all--his body, yes, but someone or something else was controlling it. His mouth was stretched into a grin far wider than what a human face could normally achieve, and rather than their usual brown, his eyes glowed a sickly shade of green.

"Why, if it isn't my dear friend Ryan!" Neil--or whatever was piloting him--called, raising one arm off the pole in an exaggerated wave. "Oh boy, the guy I got this body from is sure surprised to see you alive! And as much as I'd love to send you plummeting off the edge of this building, I did promise not to hurt anyone else, so..." He waved his hand in a circle, unnaturally glowing eyes crinkling with amusement. "How about instead I pull you in a little closer so you can get a nice good look when your friend's body fries?"

With that, a sudden gust of wind blew into Ryan from behind, sending him stumbling forward. When he attempted to regain his footing, his broken spine betrayed him once again and he flopped to the ground with an undignified oof just a few feet away from the base of the flagpole. Grimacing, he pushed himself up and crawled the remaining short distance to grab Neil's ankle. As he did so, he noticed there was a bloodstained hole in his friend's shoe, and that his pant leg was slightly damp and already bore a few singe marks. Between that and whatever had happened to Kevin... he shuddered at the thought of what his friends had gone through in his absence.

"Nice try, vigilante," the thing in Neil's body jeered. "But I've gotta say, you don't pose much of a threat since I broke your spine."

He stomped his other foot down on Ryan's hand; Ryan yelped and instinctively released his grip. And at the very instant he let go, in such perfectly unlucky timing that only a supernatural entity could orchestrate, the stormclouds above them opened up with a searing, crackling, blindingly bright lighting strike.

Neil tilted his head back and laughed at the top of his lungs as countless volts of electricity tore through him. That horrendous laughter drowned out Ryan's screams of protest, not that there was anything he could do anyway in his current state, when he couldn't so much as get to his feet. All he could do was lay there and gape in horror as Neil's body shuddered and his flesh began to sizzle and burn.

Though it felt like an eternity of torture, the lightning strike couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds. When it ended, Neil dropped like a ragdoll into Ryan's arms. Ryan, too stricken to even check for a pulse, simply stared blankly into his friend's glazed-over eyes. Then Neil blinked, and his eyes were glowing green again, and he laughed, the sound rougher now that it was being produced by a charred set of lungs.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! I wasn't expecting this body to survive that! Can you believe Neil is still kicking in here?" He tapped a finger against his head, then sat up with a playful kick of his legs. "...Or is he? It would be just like a demon to lie, wouldn't it?" He grabbed Ryan's chin with his burnt and blackened fingernails and forcefully tilted his head up so their gazes met. "You can't tell, can you, vigilante? So, how hard are you willing to throw your broken body around to try and save someone who might already be toast? Maybe you should just give up and go on with your day, hmm?"

While the demon taunted him, Ryan's mind raced to concoct a plan. Some miraculous last-minute solution that would fix everything... Neil would be able to think of one. Perhaps he already had. But that wouldn't do them any good when Neil was trapped and helpless within his own mind. If this really was a demon, and a powerful one at that, the only thing that might work was an impromptu exorcism.

"Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux! Vade retro Satana!" Reciting the passage from memory as rapidly as he could without tripping over his tongue, Ryan grabbed Neil by the wrists and held him tight while he hissed and tried to jerk away. "Nunquamsuade mihi vana! Sunt mala quae libas. Ipse venena bibas!"

An ungodly noise somewhere between a shriek and a roar erupted from Neil as he tossed his head back and convulsed. It was far too visually similar for comfort to his electrocution less than a minute prior, and Ryan wondered if the demon was doing it that way on purpose in an attempt to scare him into stopping. If so, it wouldn't work. Even if this process was as painful for Neil as it was for the demon possessing him, it had to be done.

Sure enough, as the final line of the chant echoed across the rooftop, Neil shuddered and slumped to the ground next to Ryan. When their gazes met this time, the demonic glow was gone, but Neil was breathing fast and shallow and his eyes were wide with lingering terror.

"Ryan," he whispered. "You're... alive."

"I think so," he replied with a tentative smile. "It's all a little confusing. But we're going to be okay now, Neil."

However, no sooner had those words left his mouth than Neil stiffened up again, eyes momentarily flashing green. "No," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as if to dispel the demon's grasp. "Not yet. Still gotta... get rid of it..." He grabbed Ryan's hands and held them desperately tight, like a scared child clinging to their parent or older sibling. His eyes flashed once more, and this time when the glow faded, his face bore a strained smile. "I've got an idea. Ryan, don't freak out."

And with that, before Ryan could process what was happening and reach out to stop him, Neil sprung to his feet and took a running leap off the edge of the building.

For a while now, Neil had been having unusually vivid dreams. They weren't always nightmares, but they often were. Dreams about different worlds, different realities, different lives. Ones where him and Kevin and Ryan weren't all friends. Or worse, ones where they still were, but that wasn't enough to save them. One of those recent dreams, which began as an exciting fantasy only to devolve into a nightmare, was about some kind of flying vehicle. Ever since having that dream, Neil had made two vows to himself. Firstly, that as soon as he gathered the funds to afford it, he'd go back to school and complete his aeronautical engineering degree. Secondly, to always carry a parachute, just in case.

But the demon possessing him had no way of knowing that, now did it? And it wouldn't want to still be trapped inside a host body that was splattered all over the pavement. That was what Neil was banking on, at least. Otherwise he might really be in trouble.

As he fell, a stinging sensation rippled through his body. He shuddered, yet there was a smile on his face--no longer a grin stretched unnaturally wide, but an expression of his own volition--and his heart pounded not with terror but with exhilaration and boundless relief. Sure enough, the demon leapt forth from him and departed in a swirl of green smoke. And with it gone, he wasted no time in engaging the parachute--just in time to slow his acceleration enough that the fall wouldn't kill him.

Admittedly, he didn't exactly come down gracefully. He landed in a tangle of limbs and fabric that he had to shrug off the borrowed jacket, parachute and all, in order to escape, and the landing was just rough enough to deliver a painful reminder of the electrical burns covering the better part of his body. Still, Neil couldn't stop grinning as he gingerly picked himself up and dusted himself off. He was alive and no longer possessed; that was a win in his book.

When he craned his neck to look up at the roof, he thought he saw Ryan still sitting there. Neil grimaced as he recalled what the demon had said about breaking Ryan's back; hopefully that injury was undone with the demon being vanquished, but since Neil's injuries were still there, maybe that wasn't so. Either way, he couldn't just leave his friend up there alone.

As quickly as he could run with a bullet wound in his foot, he entered the building and took the closest elevator to the rooftop. But by the time the elevator chimed and its doors slid open, the rooftop was abandoned, with no sign of Ryan save for an abandoned hat, cape, and gloves, and a slowly fading dark red stain.

If Kevin hadn't already been surprised to wake up alive the first time, he sure as hell was now. The only reason he knew he was alive at all was the deep, persistent ache that wracked practically his entire body. That, and the warmth of the hand laid atop his own.

Forcing his eyes open with a pained groan, he turned his head to see the man sitting at his bedside. Ryan squeezed his hand and flashed him a sad smile when their eyes met. His vigilante costume was gone, traded for a simple dress shirt and tie, and his hair fell unpinned around his visibly tired face; the chair he sat in, upon closer inspection, was an old-fashioned wheelchair.

With some effort, Kevin pushed himself into a sitting position. Looking around, he found that he was laying on the couch in the living room with his chest bandaged. How Ryan had managed to pull him out from beneath the bookcase, he had no idea, but he sure wasn't going to complain about it.

"Ryan, you... you're hurt?" It was a stupid question--why else would he be in a wheelchair? "Did the demon...?"

"It's gone now," Ryan responded. "But..." His gaze lowered, and he dropped his hands into his lap to fidget with the blanket draped over his legs. "It was a costly victory, I'm afraid. In order to defeat the demon, Neil--"

His tearful speech was interrupted by the distant bang of the front door being thrown open.

"Geez, you could've told me you were going straight home!" Neil's indignant voice rang out down the hall. "I wandered all over town looking for you."

Ryan's head snapped up, and he and Kevin turned in unison to see their friend running toward them with a slightly crooked gait. With a cry of joyous disbelief, Ryan opened his arms, and Neil tackled him in an embrace that nearly sent him toppling over; Kevin had to lean forward to grab the back of Ryan's chair to keep him upright as he and Neil clung to each other.

"Neil, you're alive! I-I thought..."

"It's okay, Ryan," said Neil. Then, pulling back and glancing at Kevin with a melancholy smile: "I think we're all going to be okay."

"So, what do you think?"

As the ending credits rolled on their latest webisode, Neil and Kevin turned to face Ryan with matching expectant grins.

"Well..." Ryan drummed his fingers against the keys of the laptop and tried to think of something positive to say. "The costumes you used were a lot more fashionable than usual--wait, hold on. Weren't those my clothes?"

They were in Kevin's truck parked outside the studio's headquarters, with Neil in the passenger seat and Ryan in the back. It had taken a little over a week for them to recover to the point where they could comfortably climb inside a vehicle, let alone Kevin being able to actually drive, and the studio had already sent them several notes warning them that their pay would be docked for submitting their webisode behind schedule.

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that," Kevin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"To be fair, if he hadn't broken into your house and stolen a bunch of stuff from you, he couldn't have called you on your communicator watch," Neil interjected cheerfully. "Or tried to do an exorcism... but I guess that didn't really work out for him anyway."

"Hey, c'mon, it wasn't stealing!" Kevin gave Neil a gentle shove, prompting him to briefly wince but laugh anyway. "If we'd known you were still alive, we wouldn't have taken your stuff, Ryan, honest."

"Ah, I'll have to remember that for next time," Ryan quipped. He closed the laptop and handed it back to Neil, who tucked it away inside an oversized shoulder bag. "Well, that may not have been the best webisode we've made, but I can tell you two did your best."

"Yeah, it'll be way better once we get back to making them as a trio," Neil said.

It was still amazing to Ryan that his friends were so quick to accept him back after all he'd done. If anything, it made him feel worse about his prolonged absence, because he knew now that he could have come back at any point and they would have been glad to have him. It was easy to fall into regret when thinking of all that had gone wrong, and all that could easily have gone even worse. But the fact was, they were together again now--altered by what they'd gone through, and not entirely for the better, but still themselves.

And despite it all, the preceding events and the possibility that another horrible thing could happen to them in the future, he found himself agreeing with Neil's hopeful statement.

"Indeed..." Ryan reached out and took Neil and Kevin's hands in his own. They smiled back at him with the same residual traces of relief in their eyes that Ryan had felt every so often over the past week--relief that they were still there to smile at each other. "Gentlemen, I look forward to working with you again."

¤--END--¤

#epic gamer protip: plot something out and then mentally tweak it for the whole summer and then when autumn rolls around #write the whole thing in the span of like three days. works like a charm #hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes?

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hiddendreamer67 · 5 years ago

Text

A Life Worth Finishing pt. 1

(Read the prologue here)

Summary: Mint is a borrower living alone in an abandoned human home, surviving day to day in the spot she’s carved out for herself in this world. Bored out of her mind, Mint wishes for anything to change, and that wish is granted in the form of an intimidating visitor.

Check out this art of Cain and Mint by @starlightsruby!

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Mint woke up, as she always did, to the sun shining through the floorboards. She groaned, promising to herself to move her makeshift bed out of the sunlight so tomorrow she wouldn’t be woken. As with every other day she made this promise, the stuffed sock stayed in the same place.

Instead, Mint had more important matters to attend to now that she was awake. She prepared herself some breakfast, noting with a hint of despair that her berry preserves were running low. She’d have to go out and get more today, then. Along with swapping the laundry, dusting the tunnels, maybe replacing her bent grappling hook…

Yes, there were a lot of things on Mint’s To-Do list. Turns out that tends to happen when you’re a borrower living alone. Mint sighed, scooping some more of the sugary paste into her mouth and praying she didn’t have another crash later this evening. Her Ma might well have killed her for having such an atrocious diet. Well, Ma wasn’t here, and Mint wasn’t swimming in options anyways.

She threw on her bag, taking one last sweep of the room before heading out. Mint swatted at a few of the cobwebs as she went. Recently some spiders had tried to take residence near her home- no, thank you, that was not happening. The abandoned home was quite spacious and Mint was perfectly content with leaving the creepy crawlies to their devices on the other side of the home, but the back left corner of the house was hers alone.

Mint stepped out through the grate, shielding her eyes from the harsh sun. How dare it personally offend her. Taking her eyes off her great sky nemesis, Mint perused the garden alongside the side of the house. It was as abandoned as the rest of the structure, the plants long ago running wild, but there was still a plethora of blackberries and raspberries for the taking at this time of year.

Mint gathered up one in her hands, not caring about cleanliness as she took a large bite. The juice spilled past her lips, forming a ring around her mouth of that lucious purple stain. Long ago Mint had given up on trying to keep her appearance tidy. It was inevitable her clothes would become covered in stains of their own, and honestly with no one around to judge the only issue was keeping clean enough to be able to grab her rope.

The borrower wiped her hands on her pants, creating new stains before more carefully gathering berries up into a nylon net she had crafted from some materials upstairs. It helped her lug back large loads, filling the net to the brim before giving the bag a hard yank.

“C’mon.” She grunted, pulling it with all her strength back towards the grate. All her effort was for naught when the bag couldn’t fit through the bars, causing her to readjust the load. She tried pushing instead, spilling a few berries into the passageway but eventually proving successful. After an obligatory victory cheer Mint filled the bag back up, already dreading the walk back.

By the time Mint returned to her humble abode the moon had risen, making it much more difficult to see beneath the floorboards. Mint huffed, frustrated the berries had taken so long. She didn’t even feel like mashing them up, instead leaving that arduous task to be a future Mint’s problem.

She sighed, her stomach rumbling again about last being fed several hours ago. It was getting greedy, honestly. Mint remembered times when she was still wandering outside looking for a home and she would go days without food. If she survived then, she could survive now without some sugary treats.

Mint ate a bit of berry anyways, munching on the sticky flesh and feeling annoyed at her body. Survival was so boring. Every day it felt like the same sort of trivial tasks, Mint just going through the motions to keep herself alive- the bare minimum, really. She was never moving forward, never progressing. Nothing changed.

With a groan Mint threw herself back on her makeshift bed, the wrinkled fabric digging into her back. She didn’t care, instead focused on trying to see up through the cracks where the slightest of starlight was trickling through, just enough for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Then again, Mint had always had excellent night vision.

Mint thought about the world above her. She had traveled to the house above, of course, just not often. Mint had already mapped out every room. With no human beans about, the borrowings available never changed. All she really cared about was the dwindling sugar supply in the second to the left cabinet. Soon enough it would be completely gone, and Mint wasn’t certain what she’d do then. Perhaps it hadn’t been wise to get addicted to having such a sweet tooth. Well, at least no rodents had thought to invade and try to get at her supply.

The borrower girl sighed long and hard through her nose, counting warps in the wooden floorboards above her now. It was pathetic.

“I’m going to die unless something changes soon.” Mint declared, loud enough for any spirits to get her message. In a literal sense, there was a foreboding truth to her message. But mostly, it was a declaration of boredom, an air of frustration in the face of tedious repetition. It didn’t particularly help her mood, but Mint let her eyes shift closed anyways, figuring that maybe tomorrow would bring something interesting.

But then, there was a thud.

Mint’s ears twitched, instantly wide awake as she heard a foreign noise, rusted hinges squeaking so loudly they might have been crying out. Mint’s eyes flew open, listening to a rhythmic thumping increase in volume. Footsteps. Her eyes scanned the ceiling once more, as if that would allow her to see the giant intruder through the wood as she felt her entire world begin to shake. It trembled, and then just as suddenly as it came the being left to explore another part of her house.

“...What the hell?” Mint muttered, slowly sitting up. She refused to acknowledge just how fast her heart was still beating from that fright. It was startling, that was all! How was she supposed to predict a human bean would come traipsing through her home tonight? Honestly with how few she’d seen in the past few years Mint had begun to wonder if they had died out entirely.

Well, there was no use in getting to sleep now. Mint threw on her bag, unable to keep a grin off her face as the adrenaline hit. Now this, this was exciting. A bit annoying, perhaps, but even with the potential danger Mint didn’t care. In fact, she relished danger. This was what she had been missing, the idea of your life on the line every time you step outside your home. It wasn’t the same with the birds and the spiders.

Mint darted through the walls, quieter than a mouse as she scurried up the steps she had crafted from the various rusted nails in the walls. What sort of human was this, anyhow? If they were going to get in her way Mint might have to devise a way to run them out, which would be equally thrilling. Or perhaps they were only staying for a night of refuge before heading off into the world… maybe she should tag along just for the heck of it.

She laughed at the ridiculousness of such an idea. It was positively suicidal, and the idea of being so foolishly bold even in her mind made her spirits soar.

“Alright, alright, keep it together.” Mint whispered to herself, still wearing a ridiculous grin as she slowed her pace. As she was nearing the human rooms, Mint had the common sense left to be quiet. It wouldn’t do to blow her cover so quickly when investigating the intruder.

At first, Mint frowned, not seeing the human in the kitchen, which was just above her sleeping space. Guess this would take more trekking. Mint jogged through the walls, peering through nooks and crannies to try and catch a glimpse of her visitor. Mint gave a frustrated huff, getting annoyed after the first couple rooms proved fruitless. This house wasn’t that large by human standards- how could such a great lumbering being stay hidden?

Finally, finally Mint found her suspect in the sleeping space. She paused, barely breathing as her eyes adjusted to see the shadowed figure hunched in the room. The human wasn’t even trying to sleep at this late hour, instead messing about with the window across the room. They had laid their bag on the bed, a few of their belongings strewn about.

Mint got a better look at the giant stranger as they turned, the moonlight illuminating their figure for only a moment as they stripped one of the sheets from the bed. It was a man, looming higher than any person had the right to stand. He had long black hair and an abnormally pale complexion- was he sick? Had he come out here to die? Good lord Mint hoped not, that’d be impossible for her to deal with logistically. But the most notable feature by far were his eyes that seemed to almost glow with their bright red hue. They illuminated the scowl on his face, looking to all the world like a human bean any borrower in their right mind would stay far away from.

And as he turned, Mint took a few steps closer.

Her curiosity was piqued, heart racing as she struggled to comprehend exactly how dangerous this man was- he could easily crush her with his hand. Or his foot. Or any body part, actually. He could toss her or choke her or break her in any number of ways, every part of him being equally devastating to a borrower. Good lord she had forgotten how awful humans could be, nor how safe she had grown living by herself. This was a threat of the highest order to her kingdom.

But Mint had to be certain to know just what she was dealing with. She pushed aside the loose wallpaper, crossing the small gap between the wall and the shelf adorned with a smattering of dusty collectibles. Mint weaved her way amongst them, searching for a good spot to settle in.

If she wanted to survive the next few days (or even years, depending on how long this intruder was sticking around), Mint would have to learn everything she could about this human. She would need to learn his schedule inside and out, understanding what his motives were so she could always predict his next move and be one step ahead. One wrong move and she’d be toast.

A breeze shifted the bedroom door, causing it to slowly creak open. Faster than Mint could blink the figure whirled around, and with a sudden thunk the door slammed shut. It took all her willpower not to gasp, terrified and amazed as she stared at the long knife blade firmly wedged into the door. Instead she crouched behind the ceramic frog, deciding it was safest not to move lest that knife head in her direction.

C’mon, it was already a human for crying out loud- why did it also need to have a knife! It didn’t need to be any more dangerous.

The stranger stared at the door for several moments, looking almost shaken. Eventually he snapped out of his stupor, stomping over to the door with a scowl and shaking Mint’s hiding place in the process. Mint tried not to flinch at the sound of the ceramics clattering around her, watching the giant being yank the blade longer than she was out of the door like it was nothing.

“Lord, I’m such a-” The invader’s voice was lower than Mint expected, but it rumbled through her core in a way that was eerily familiar. Mint supposed you could never forget that feeling no matter how hard one tried. But, as soon as it was there, the stranger was already cutting himself off with a shake of his head.

He looked down at the blade, thoughtfully twirling it before returning it to a sheath at his hip.

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Ta-da! Hope you’re liking my newest characters! Very excited to introduce ‘em. What do ya think so far? :D

#original characters #a life worth finishing #alwf #writing #mint #borrowers #borrower #g/t #giant/tiny #vampires #vampire #cain

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multifandom--imagine · 5 years ago

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The beauty & the beast || (borra x fem!reader)

tag list: thisishirathesecond , ateliefloresdaprimavera

(sorry for the possible errors)

Oflaria is one of the most flourishing and prestigious kingdoms. Gathered profiques, always full of tourists and spices from all over the world, every month we always celebrate some festivals, people are happy and always meet in the square to dance and sing.

King Constantine, your father, has brought forth this region with much effort but all have borne fruit. And you, her daughter, were proud to know that one day you would rule that prestigious territory following your father's example. There was only one small problem, a prince needed a male figure, however many her skills were. And this concept proprionon did not want to get into your head. You? With a weakling prince? No way! It was a morning like any other when your sleep was interrupted by your maid who gently woke you. "My lady, wake up, today is a big busy day" said the old lady. You munched as you stretched yourself abandoning your lavish bed. "Commitments? I didn't remember having commitments" you said, puzzled. "Your father has prepared a surprise for you, he said you will be amazed!" exclaimed the old lady helping you dress. "A surprise?" you asked enthusiastically, who knows what the king will have in store for you. Maybe a new horse? Or finally fencing lessons?

You tried to prepare yourself as quickly as possible and with great strides you started towards the throne room, where you met your father sitting in his usual place.

"Father! I knew you prepared a big surprise for me" you exclaimed taking his old hands, the old king nodded with a kind smile.

"Oh yes you will see, it is not refused this time" requested King Constantine "I have received word that you have a great interest in exploring new places besides our kingdom, isn't it?" He asked.

"Don't tell me! Did you build me a ship to travel?" You asked not being in the skin anymore for the emotion.

"Oh even better my little flower, guards let the guests in" your father ordered, as you heard the doors of the room open, you turned to look at who these new people are, but your smile died within seconds when you were presented with two winged monsters.

"Dad...who are these?" I ask about the tone of the ear with a flexible tone for your impromptu panic.

"Well darling, do you remember when at dinner he tells you about the rhythm that Queen Aurora had established with the Moors?" You nod "Well I decided that friendly relations with these creatures is a very wise and generous act and they agreed to visit" Explained your father.

"My lord, I am Conall and he is Borra" said the dark-skinned winged man bowing elegantly, a difference from the other who made a meager gesture with his head. He didn't reassure you his eyes were too hard and fierce, as if he had been forced to come and visit you. Conall, on the other hand, transmitted the opposite emotions, or was very good at pretending.

"Nice to have you here with us, as you know I am King Constantine and this beautiful girl is my daughter, (y/n)" said the king, pointing at your figure, thus leading the gaze of those present to you. Borra's dark and vivid eyes pierced you like a blow, letting your body shudder.

"Please, follow us into the dining room, there is nothing more pleasant than discussing business over a good brunch" said the king, rising from his throne and followed by a wheel from you and the two guests. There was absolute silence, but one thing that surely captured your hearing was the question that Borra whispered to Conall, it was in that instant that you heard his hoarse and dark tone for the first time.

"What the hell is a brunch?" He asked almost awkwardly.

"I don't know, let's go along without making too many complaints" reported the comparison calmly.

Arrived at a huge terrace covered with a floral gazebo you were about to sit at the big table, full of various delicacies. Needless to say, the two guests had a hard time sitting down with those big wings that came together, and this made you hide a small smile. You noticed puzzled that the cutlery had been changed with the ceramic ones and looking at your father he sensed. "See darling, I preferred to change the dishes with materials that would not endanger the lives of our guests, unfortunately the iron can hurt them" explained the king.

"I see, well the iron cutlery rusts right away and they aren't all that elegant" you said as you started to drink some tea.

"Well then, I am sorry that your Mrs. Maleficent could not have come here, but I am still happy to have welcomed you warriors. In the letter I sent her I explained to her that in my opinion there would have been a more solid pact than a marriage to seal peace" you listened to the words of your father, who had decided to marry Maleficent, after his years without you mother? "And that's why my daughter will marry a noble warrior, and to imagine from the name mentioned in the letter, I suppose it's you, Borra, my daughter's future husband" your father exclaimed enthusiastically.

Not even the time to finish the sentence that you spit your tea all over the table in shock, while Borra nodded and suddenly he was petrified.

For what absurd reason did Maleficent not warn him?!

"Don't talk about it, Father! You have proposed me to hundreds of young princes, it will not be this...winged man to have my hand!" You exclaimed in a rage and getting up from the table “I will have a progeny of winged monsters, your grandchildren will have horns and wings! Do you realize the absurdity?” You asked while Borra feeling himself taken into consideration, he got up in turn growling threateningly.

"How dare you? I at least know how to defend myself, I don't need armor to fight" he said, flapping his hands on the table “and did you ever mirror yourself? you look like a...” but he was interrupted by Conall who gave him a reproachful look.

"I will never marry anyone! I don't need a man to rule, father! and if you have not understood it all these years, then I go away and I will build a kingdom of my own, with my only strengths” you said as you ran out of the terrace, as you heard the screams of the king who begged for your return.

You quickly changed getting rid of your princely dress and wearing the right clothing to ride, you then started towards the stable and riding on your steed, you passed the castle walls and your vast city looking for a quiet place to stop the night.

Rode without stopping for many miles, you had crossed much of the forest and when night fell you camped in a cave that overlooked the banks of a small lake. It was really difficult to light a fire powerful enough to cook that miserable fish you were able to catch. The wild life seemed easier and heroic in the books of myths, but apparently it was just dirty and tiring. Also it was quite cold and your cape was not very successful in trying to warm you up.

It all seemed pretty quiet, until Solomon, your horse didn't start to get nervous, like there was something around.

"Hey my friend, what's wrong?" You asked shortly before a strong blow to the head stunned you for a few moments, the right time to grab you and tie your wrists with a rope. Someone dragged you and made you fall badly into the cold cave.

"Who are you? and what do you want from me?” you shouted trying to look threatening, the little flame that cooked your dinner, lit up just three male figures. Surely they were three bandits.

"Give us all your money, wanderer!" Ordered one of them "Tell us where you have your money or I swear I'll slit your throat with this knife!" Another said, showing a dagger from his pocket, making you scare.

"I swear to you, I have nothing, I only live on what nature gives me" you replied trying not to look terrified, but your trembling voice didn't play in your favor. The man who had a dagger in his hand, approached your figure and approached to attack your neck, he stopped shortly before the blade rubbed your silky skin.

"Let me be beaten guys" the bandit told his colleagues with a mischievous tone, "We have the princess of Ophlaria in front of us" she announced theatrically as the others laughed.

"Take your hands off me, you filthy worm" you screamed, pecking at a powerful fist on the lip that caused a blow to your head to account for the rocky terrain. Your senses became more and more muffled but you could still have the annoying sensation of pain on your slightly bloody mouth.

"This night we won't have the money, but we could have fun with this sweet princess. They will pay a very high ransom for your pretty face" proposed one of the bandits laughing in a squalid way.

"I start with her first, then it will be yours as soon as I feel quite satisfied. I wonder if it's true that the princess is still pure?" said the man who had beaten you, starting to tear your shirt with his dagger.

"No Please! Do not touch me! I said don't touch me!” You screamed desperately as your eyes filled with tears, was this really the end you should have met? Was this the punishment you deserved after refusing your duty to marry you?

You closed your eyes in terror, not having enough guts to look at that disgusting scene in your face, but all of a sudden some unsheathed screams caught your attention. With the little strength left open in two slits the eyes and all that presented itself before you was as fast as the wake of a comet.

The two men on the sidelines had been captured by enormous thorny roots, which crushed them until they broke bones after bones. As for your cruel molester, he was lifted off the ground slowly, by a hand that grabbed his neck with a lethal grip. A winged figure looked him straight in the eye and after throwing a monstrous snarl he whispered "If you only think you can hurt the princess, you will first have to overcome my corpse" after which the neck of the last bandit remained broke with a simple movement of wrist.

Your fragile and trembling body was still on the ground, intent on observing the figure of your savior, who approached you, and gently grasping your body, made you sit with your back to a wall of the cave. Only then did you recognize Borra's hollow face, lit by the soft flame of the fire.

"You ..." you whispered confused.

"I see that your plan to create a new kingdom is proceeding perfectly," the cuckold replied sarcastically, raising his eyebrows in exasperation.

"Fuck you" you whispered with the little voice left. You hated to admit your defeat.

"A thank you would be more aristocratic on your part," he replied with a small growl. Then put his gaze on your lower lip, swollen and injured. You perceive the rough but at the same time warm palm of one of his hands resting on one side of your face, while a thumb was trying to take away the blood that was dripping in excess "A man should never get his hands on a defenseless woman, nobody should take it out on those who can't protect themselves ... that's why I hate the nature of you humans "Borra commented dejectedly and somehow his words hit you.

A being like him could immediately give the impression of a beast, of a bad and heartless being, and yet, although you had insulted him, he had saved you, from those you would have called subjects. Your attention shifted again to Borra's face, which had moistened his thumb with his saliva and was about to lean on your wound on his lip.

"For all the heavens! What are you doing ?! ”you asked in disgust, moving away from his hands.

"I'm trying to disinfect your wound, since you don't even have medicinal herbs with you, idiot!" Borra tried to justify himself, realizing that he had not yet untied his wrists and without even using so much strength, he broke the rope that you imprisons, also noticing your slightly reddened wrists.

"How ... how did you manage to find me?" You asked still bewildered as you rubbed your aching wrists, Borra let out a proud and proud smile.

"I've never lost sight of you, at least until you've entered the cave. I would never have left you alone in this world, "the boy explained.

"Did you prepare this sentence?" You asked raising an eyebrow almost in order to tease him. But he didn't particularly appreciate it.

"Do you want to keep joking, princess?" The blonde asked menacingly "I flew far and wide, I killed people for you and I'm taking care of you!" He added reproachfully.

"Because if you hate humans, then why did you do all this? Probably because you want to look good with my father? Surely now you have the throne insured "you replied stinging.

"Your throne would burn it quietly, it is not the riches that interest me!" Said Borra "For years I have been blinded by anger and revenge. But during the war in Ulstead I met death and pity, and I realized that there may be some humans worth fighting for, so it's worth protecting..." the boy explained, looking you straight in the eye and only in that moment you realized that the distance between your faces was only a few centimeters "Obviously ... for you the phrase <<there are humans that are worth loving>> is not even a day from our meeting and you already make me damn , monkey" he said, moving away, knowing perfectly well that his tone would tickle you as needed.

"THEN IT'S SO THAT YOU WANTED TO CALL ME TODAY! Before your friend stopped you" you exclaimed indignantly, advancing on his figure, who turned his back to you, but as soon as you were ready to throw a" punch "at him, Borra turned abruptly and took you by his hips and leaned on his shoulder like a potato sack.

"Let's make a deal, when we get home I'll teach you how to fight, so we'll try to blanch your spiteful little monkey spiteful" Dark Fae offered with a little laugh.

"As long as I teach you something to improve your bear-like bearing" you said, trying to squeeze out of his grip with little success.

"Oh now you are back the princess all right and delicate? And where is my little monkey that sends me to fuck me, instead of thanking me?" Borra asked, holding back a laugh while grabbing the bridle of your horse he accompanied you to the way back, while the woods were covered with your voices that were teasing each other.

#maleficent #maleficent 2 #maleficent imagines #maleficent headcanons #fluff #borra #maleficent borra #aurora #diaval

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jflashandclash · 5 years ago

Text

Tales From Mount Othrys

Surprised Parenthood (Is this How Gods Feel?)

Timeline: During the events of PJO 2: Sea of Monsters.

When Flynn saw the sheepish, goofy grin on Jack’s face, the one he got when he held doors open for her or carried around her battle equipment, she knew whatever came out of his mouth was going to be annoying.

Monsters and demigods alike where rejoicing over the double win. They roamed the Princess Andromeda’s halls, chatting, pushing each other around, and generally having real camaraderie for the first time. After several discouraging defeats on the Greek side—Flynn refused to use Luke’s phrase of “calculated setbacks”—her troop’s victory in their surprise attack against the Romans came as a morale booster.

The set up had been too easy: a dozen Romans on their day off inside a laser tag facility that the Romans didn’t know Flynn had taken over. Luke wanted her to convert the praetor. He figured having someone so high ranking would be useful.

Luke underestimated one thing: Romans were much more loyal to their legion than the Greeks were to Camp Half-Blood.

Had one Roman not turned traitor, Flynn was sure the scene would have been a massacre instead of a capture. Most of the Romans got away, but they had gained two valuable pieces: a Roman that the Romans didn’t know had turned spy and a praetor.

And then Jack’s spectacle of turning Julian’s death into a tournament sent the monsters and demigods into a party mood.

She had wanted to congratulate Jack as soon as the event was over. He’d been so sweet and corny about getting her flowers, a card, and making her a poem to celebrate her victory. Even if she thought it was dumb, Flynn wanted to get better about supporting his endeavors too.

Jack had also been quieter the last few times she’d seen him. He got spacey sometimes when his medicine first kicked in, but this seemed different. With anyone else, she’d force them to tell her through charm speak. That was something she swore never to use on him.

All they needed was some alone time. There had been a lot going on with that child of Poseidon and child of Athena sneaking onto the boat with a Cyclops.

First, she needed to find Luke to debrief him on the mission, to see if Lucille really did want to leave the fighting unit after proving herself so capable, to destroy Dr. Thorn for almost impaling Jack during Praetor Julian and Axel the Lion’s fight, and to find the new Roman recruit, Mercedes?, to interrogate her.

Hours later, she found out that Jack had taken a centaur to go offshore. Flynn dug her nails into her palm. Jack wasn’t allowed off shore on his own. If he got the wrong Disney song stuck in his head, he might accidentally play musical chairs with cancer or kill a whole restaurant.

When she asked one of the children of Hephaestus if he’d seen Jack, the blond Viking giggled, “Told you we should have put a tracking chip in his bracelet.”

After thirty minutes of panicked searching with Luke, a centaur ride, and some broken faces later, she and Luke found Jack with that dumb grin.

His red hair acted as a messy flag amidst a line of Cyclopes, snake women, nymphs, and other nature spirits inside the bright interior of Monster Donut.

A giant began to protest when she approached Jack, seething about demigods cutting the line. One look at her companion—Luke—and the complaint silenced.

“Jack,” Flynn and Luke snapped at the same time.

That’s when she realized Jack wasn’t alone. There was a child holding his hand and another demigod by his side.

Jack turned, saw them, and gave them an excited wave with the hand holding the child’s. The small thing had to go on its tiptoes to accommodate Jack’s height.

“Oh! Oh! And that’s Flynn! That’s your new mother!” Jack said so quickly the average person might not have caught his words.

Flynn stopped in her approach.

She must have misheard him.

“No,” Luke muttered.

“Isn’t she beautiful! Here! You’ll have to meet her—she’s the coolest, and I mean the coolest and most beautiful person in the world! Flynn!”

Jack went to pick the child up from under the arms. Jack seemed not to realize how heavy the kid was and almost tumbled over. By balancing against a bolted in table, he managed to lift the child, Lion King-style. “Oh, aren’t you a tiny ball of muscle,” Jack choked out.

With Jack’s gracelessness, Flynn thanked the fates again that Luke agreed Jack shouldn’t go onto the battlefield anytime soon.

The child went limp, glancing between Flynn and Luke with wide eyes. Flynn didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl. It had one, bright hazel eye and one dark. Its black hair twisted and curled out wildly, a little too short to be a proper female bob, and a little too long to be a messy boy cut. Its skin was pale, with a warm tint that made her think of Central America. It wore a dirty button-down shirt that might have once been red, but looked more like a muddied brown. Based off its height and the soft roundness of its features, Flynn guessed it couldn’t be more than nine or ten years old, too young to have developed any demigod powers.

She had to give the kid credit: when she leaned down to examine it, the child didn’t flinch away from her face. Most adults couldn’t handle looking at Flynn’s mutilated face. She liked it that way.

Instead, this tiny one broke into a massive, dimpled grin. “You have beautiful eyes,” it said.

Jack made a gasping noise. He peeked from around the child’s head to see her reaction.

Flynn flinched backwards, wondering if Jack had set the child up to that. Only Jack was supposed to talk like that to her.

“Jack, what is that?” she asked, gesturing towards the child.

“Our new son,” Jack said, his arms starting to shake. He looked so proud.

The boy beside them stared skeptically, like he was waiting for Jack’s arms to break off.

“Dude, we talked about this. You need to tell someone before you leave the ship,” Luke said, brushing off the comment that left Flynn temporarily speechless.

Jack’s arms finally gave out, and he set the child down. “I told Clops.”

“The Cyclops?” Luke said, “You know that doesn’t count. And where did you get—wait—are you the one who won the fight against the praetor?”

The boy to the side of Jack pulled his shoulders back. His black hair was coarser than the other’s and dangled past his shoulders. There were braids twisted into random locations and a segment behind one ear was shaved. His skin was a rich caramel and his dark eyes darted up to Luke’s with such defiance, she thought he might have been looking for another fight.

He wore a shirt too big for him, one that must have been an extra band shirt of Jack’s. The praetor’s medals sparkled against the blue material. One of his hands rubbed the lower right medal like it might disappear if he didn’t touch it. Flynn considered warning him that the oils in his fingers were going to rust them.

Flynn wasn’t sure what country he was from, though guessed somewhere in South America. Other than a pair of ears he hadn’t quite gown into, he might look conventionally attractive if he cleaned up.

“Yea,” he said, “What’s it to you?”

Jack paled. “Oh, uh, Axel, this is Luke. He’s the leader of the army. We’re nice to Luke.”

Axel tilted his head skeptically. “So, you’re like the cult priest or something?”

Luke’s charming smile twitched. He glanced to the beaming redhead. “Jack… what did you tell our new recruits about us?”

Jack tilted his head to the side, holding out a hand to list things on his fingers. “That there is absolutely no running by the pools, Tuesdays are Terrific Taco Nights, which I figured they might like since I think they’re both Hispanic—are you Hispanic? I guess I should have asked—”

Flynn held out a hand for Jack to stop. He trailed off, noticing her frown. The delight in his eyes dimmed to anxiety.

“What did you call them earlier?” she asked, her tone careful.

Jack swallowed. “Our sons.”

The look she gave him must have been intense. The smaller child took half a step behind the bigger one.

“Oh man…” Luke sighed.

“Flynn? Jack? Luke?”

Flynn glanced further down the line. The space between them and the order counter had cleared of customers.

A frail blonde girl was beckoning them to the counter. Her icy blue eyes shot nervously to Luke and then back to Flynn. “To what do I owe the honor on my first shift?” She gave a curtsey that looked far too delicate in her yellow and pink apron.

“Lucille!” Jack said. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and shuffled the two boys forward. “We wanted to come see how you were liking the new job!”

Although Flynn could tell he was trying to hide it, his voice shook. She reached forward to touch his shoulder and found that her hands were shaking too. What was wrong with her?

She lowered her hand without touching Jack’s shoulder. When she felt Luke’s eyes on her, she scowled at him.

Luke put his hands up in a defensive gesture and mouthed, “Don’t look at me.”

He was right: there was no way Luke could have known about this “son” business. He’d been with Flynn the whole time.

Lucille’s cheeks went rosy with her smile. “We just opened, but we’ve already helped so many monsters. I—” She froze, her eyes trailing back to Flynn. Choosing her words carefully, she said, “It’s a nice change of pace.”

Axel perked up, looking the girl over. “What is this place?” he asked.

The frail girl clapped her hands. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new? I’m Lucille.”

“Axel,” he said and stood up a little taller.

Flynn wondered if Axel was about to become one of the many boys, Luke included, that were baffled with Lucille’s sweet, biting disinterest. The two looked about the same age.

“We help monsters here—hold on—Vicky, can you take over?”

Lucille stepped to the side, letting another associate take over the main line before any monsters began to grumble.

She fluffed out her apron. “Like their half-mortal children, gods often abandon their monster children. Mortal children usually have at least one parent that can help take care of them. Monsters often don’t. They’re abandoned to starve in the wild.” Lucille frowned, rubbing her wrist.

Luke snorted. “Yea, leave it to the gods to be the role models for ‘worst parents ever.’”

Axel and the other child exchanged a glance.

“That’s awful,” the tiny one said.

She nodded. “Yes. That’s why we run the Monster Donut shops. They’re charity-based with no strings attached. Monsters don’t need to join Kronos’ army. We just want them to have a safe spot to get a free bite to eat and socialize with each other and friendly demigods.”

Jack nodded. Although his voice kept light, he kept trembling and wouldn’t make eye contact with Flynn. “We wanted an environment where they could see that not all demigods would try to kill them on sight. It’s kinda hard to undo centuries of the ‘who can kill whom first’ thing.”

Axel touched his mouth with his fingertips. “That’s a really cool idea,” he begrudgingly admitted. “Who funds it?”

Luke grinned. “That’s the beauty of these babes. The establishments pop up any time a super powerful monster—in this case a hydra—lends some of its life force to support its brethren. Flynn helped start this one.”

All eyes turned to her, except Jack’s. Everyone else made it sound so complicated. It hadn’t been. She was irritated to realize they were waiting for her to fill in an explanation. “Children of Aphrodite have an easier time talking to monsters that can’t speak as well,” Flynn said, “We just had to make sure the hydra was alright with losing a head to release the energy and start this facility.”

Lucille nodded. “All the materials show up on their own. We just need to bake the donuts and man the register. Now, sweetie, what would you like?”

She winked at the tiny child.

Its face lit up as it hopped up and down. “Strawberry-frosted donut with a jelly donut with a—

“You only get two,” Axel snapped and bopped the little one on the back of the head.

“Ayeeeee!” it whined and grabbed the black locks.

Jack crossed his arms. “Hey! Don’t hit your brother!”

The smaller one stuck out his tongue at the larger one. Axel scowled. They must have actually been brothers based off that interaction, even if they didn’t look related.

“But, you really can only have two. They can’t run out for the hungry monsters, else they might eat you,” as Jack said the last part, he bopped the tiny one’s button nose. He turned to Axel. “And you?”

Axel jammed his hands into his pockets, trying to look disinterested. “Chocolate glazed.”

Jack ruffled his hair.

Axel swatted his hand away. His face went bright red.

Lucille giggled. “How about you, Jak-Jak?”

“A chocolate glazed and… Ajax, what was the other one you wanted?” Jack asked.

The tiny one hopped again. “Bavarian cream.”

Luke and Flynn gave their orders as well. Then, Lucille filled a yellow and pink Monster Donut box for them. Before Flynn could grab Jack’s shoulder and see what he was up to, Lucille called Flynn back to the counter.

Lucille told the other associate she was taking a quick break, hung her apron, and led Flynn to the girl’s restroom. Flynn wondered if this was some kind of trap. The only person she trusted here was Jack, and he could easily be manipulated into doing the wrong thing. Could Lucille use her charm speak on Flynn? The half-sisters had an unspoken agreement not to try it on each other. If Lucille was about to pull something, Flynn would need to come up with a way to disable her, other than charm speak.

When they got into the stalls, they checked each, one huge, one medium, and one small for the various sizes of monster and demigod customers, to see if they were alone.

“You sure about your decision to work here?” Flynn asked, deciding Lucille wasn’t up to anything malicious. “You didn’t even celebrate the victory over the Romans.”

Lucille had been vital in capturing Julian. On her own, Flynn sometimes struggled to get strong-willed people to harm themselves. Although Lucille’s charm speak wasn’t as powerful, without it, Julian might have been able to fight back.

The frail girl bit her lip, nodding. “Yes—I—change of pace.”

Flynn scowled.

Lucille touched her wrist. “I was nervous that you and Luke were here to say I had to come back.”

Flynn wanted to. Until they got Krios out of Tartarus or Atlas out from under the world, Flynn was stuck leading the Assault and Battery unit. While she liked the unrestrained violence, she hated having others look up to her for encouragement or direction.

Lucille had come here to help people. Flynn had come here to kill people. It made the monsters respect Flynn more and the demigods trust Lucille. Between Lucille and Luke, Flynn would never need to take a leadership role. Now…

If Luke wasn’t such a coward about battle, maybe he could lead the damn group on his own.

“We were just looking for Jack,” Flynn said.

Lucille gave her a fragile smile. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you remember when we were playing MASH while getting ready for the mission?”

Flynn considered making Lucille slap herself. Eileithyia, the Goddess of Childbirth, didn’t understand why the girls had wanted to play a game that would predict the future of where someone would live, who they would marry, what their occupation would be, and how many children they would have. Why not just ask an oracle?

No matter how many times Lou Ellen, a daughter of Hecate, told Eileithyia that not knowing was part of the point, the goddess got confused.

Lucille put her hands up in a surrender motion. “I swear it’s relevant. I wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise. I respect the oath we took to never speak of it again unless it was important.”

Both of them glanced around, like Orkus, the God of Oaths, might be lurking in a stall. MASH with demigods was serious business.

“Jack heard our conversation. He and Matthias had come by to drop off some extra supplies and he brought a gift for you,” Lucille said, like it was a big deal.

Flynn wished she could charm speak Lucille to the point. “And? I didn’t say anything that he doesn’t already know.”

Flynn thought the game was stupid and opted out of playing. Then, Lou Ellen, someone who didn’t fear Flynn nearly enough, decided she’d fill Flynn’s MASH out for her. There were no options under marriage. The girls cooed that Flynn had to be with Jack, despite several of them knowing Flynn had whomever she wanted whenever she wanted them.

Jack was just her boyfriend. Though, they all seemed to sense the thing that separated him from the other guys: he was the only one that mattered to Flynn.

She’d gotten “apartment” on housing, “20” on children, and “chainsaw murderer” under occupation. Then Eileithyia had killed the joy for all the other giggling idiots when—

“It’s not what you said,” Lucille explained gently.

--Eileithyia said Flynn couldn’t have twenty children because she was infertile. She was too damaged.

And Lou Ellen pointed out this is exactly why they didn’t play these kinds of games around gods.

At the time, all Flynn cared about was that everyone had stopped the stupid game and gotten ready for the mission.

Now, Flynn closed her eyes and exhaled, trying to conjure the audio of one of Nǎinai‘s favorite Huangmei operas to calm herself down. Of course Jack had heard that. Of course he was the one eighteen-year-old that would be thinking about children when we’re at war.

“Don’t get mad at Jack,” Lucille begged. “He just gets—”

“Confused,” Flynn ended, hating that word. Even though she’d gone back to visit her grandmother with Jack that weekend, she couldn’t conjure the music. “Damn it, Jack,” she hissed, her fingers curling into a fist. Now, she had to figure out what to do and possibly how to get rid of her two new “sons.”

***

Surprise Adoption: consider this for your loved ones this holiday season.

XD Thank you for reading;I hope you guys enjoyed! I’ve had a lot of fun figuring out Flynn’s pov. Stay tuned next week to see how she takes to her new babies!

#Tales from Mount Othrys #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #PJO #HOO #fanfiction #TFMO #luke castellan #Jack #Flynn #Ajax #Axel #Lucille

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sometimeswritingsometimesdying · 5 years ago

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The Superheroes Against The Storm- Chap. 2

So, forget what I said

A/N: alrighty, so, people seemed to like the first chapter, and that inspired me to write another one, so here ya go. ps. Dee is probably OOC, so, sorry for that, I’m not used to writing dark sides

Pairings: Eventual Logicality and Prinxiety, platonic everything else, although that may change

Word count: idk, more than 12 words tho

Warnings: Panic attack, talk of burnout and possible death i think?, thunderstorms, sympathetic deceit and remus, cursing, and a lil’ angst. Let me know if I miss something!

Taglist: @soul-of-a-vixen, @mellow-yellow-nutella Let me know if you want to be added!

Chap. 1

Virgil was angry.

Correction. He was furious.

A raging storm, if you will.

Point is, things were going downhill, and pretty quickly. And it was the fault of two dumbasses.

Goddamnit. He leaves for two days, and this happens.

The storm above the city became even more vicious, the wind strengthening and the rain falling faster and heavier. Virgil was unbothered. He was accustomed with it. Perhaps even enjoyed it. As far as you could enjoy being soaking wet, but you know.

He quickened his pace until he reached an old apartment building, which was basically falling apart by this point. It may have been it’s suspicious, almost magnet-like, tendency of attracting storms to cause that damage, but the landlord could care less. Virgil opened the door and ran up the stairs. He reached a door down the corridor with a rusted tag that read 11. However, he didn’t notice the tag, after all, he had known it was there for years, but what he did notice was Dee’s scared yelp when he kicked down the door.

“Damien Thomas Travieso, I leave you alone for two days-“

“More like a week, but keep going-“

“And this happens?” Virgil showed Dee his phone, where a photo of a flower was shown. Correction. The flower was, well, deformed.

“A flower isn’t meant to look like that.”

“Yeah. No shit.” Virgil and Dee glared at each other for about five seconds.

“Look in my defense-“ He was interrupted by a yell coming from the other room. Honestly, with how much they yelled, it was weird that their neighbors hadn’t complained yet.

“IS V HOME YET.” Actually, now that he thought about it, they had no neighbors. Well, except for one hold granny who could barely hear.

“YES YOU TRASH GOBLIN NOW COME OUT OF YOUR ROOM.” The quote unquote “trash goblin” emerged from his room and, when he spotted Virgil, started beaming. Well, that was before he saw how intense Virgil’s glare was, and how Dee looked pretty annoyed already.

“V! You’re back!” Remus walked over to the couch and sat beside Damien. They shared a look that said this is going to be a long talk.

“I leave. For TWO DAYS-“

“a week.” Damien mumbled.

“fine, a WEEK, and you go out there and distort-“

“It’s not my fault-“

“yes it is, Remus!” Virgil stopped pacing to look at his friend. “I told you not to use your powers while I’m gone because I can’t cover for you, but no! You go out there and now there’s going to be people coming after us, and they’re gonna find us and they’re going to take you away and I won’t be able to-“

Damien stood up and walked over to Virgil. He had learned how to deal with on-coming panic attacks a long while ago.

“V, look at me. Breath in, and breath out. Good. Like that.” Dee brought Virgil to sit on the couch between him and Remus. “We’re going to be fine. You’ve always protected us, but we’re able to fend for ourselves too.” Dee side eyed Remus, who was eyeing the candle on the table with a certain hunger. “Or, well, I’m able to.”

Virgil snorted slightly as Remus reached out to take a bit out of the candle. He would be fine. He had probably changed it into melted chocolate or something of the sort already.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Virgil rubbed his face. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Remus asked. It would’ve sounded sincere if the other two didn’t know Remus had actually lost the topic of conversation.

“having so little faith in you two.” He stopped a second. “Well, one of you.”

Dee snorted and Remus just took another bite out of the candle.

“Think you can calm the storm outside now?” Dee asked.

“Oh yeah.” Virgil stood up and walked over to the window. The storm was in fact still raging on, so he raised his hands and a gust of wind came into the apartment. Then suddenly the window shut and the storm dispersed.

The meteorologists of the area would wonder about the sudden end of the storm for a week. At most two weeks.

They’d forget about it eventually, and the data recording this event would eventually disappear.

The trio had to keep a low profile after all.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, a chirpy Patton and a content Logan were strolling around the park nearby the laboratories. Logan had proposed a short walk to clear their minds during breakfast, and who Patton to refuse a walk through his element? Or, well, one of them.

“So, Patton, what has happened while we were out of touch?” Patton hummed quietly as he watched the little bird that was perched on his hand.

“Not much, really.” Patton shrugged, turning back to Logan after the bird had taken flight once more. “I arranged the house a bit better, a couple plants here, a couple birdfeeders over there. You know, the typical stuff.”

“And… you?” Logan asked. It was an unsure ground to walk on, but Patton merely sighed and looked ahead.

“Better. Yeah. It got… better.” Patton started messing with the handmade bracelets on his arm. A gift from a few kids who would come by his house every once and again. “certainly regained some life.”

Logan give Patton a questioning look. “Patton, you can tell me if it becomes too much again. We could always try to work from your place if it happens to-“

“Don’t worry about me, Lo, I’ll be fine.” Patton turned to him and smiled a smile that rivaled the sun’s. “See? I’m fine! Things won’t go like last time.”

Logan still looked unsure. “How do you know that, Patton? There are thousands of things that can impact your health here, and it would be much safer if-“

Logan stopped talking as Patton raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed and took of his glasses to clean them. “Look, Patton, I know that you think you feel well now, but who knows what’ll happen tomorrow?”

“Many things, Lo. Many things can happen.” Patton smiled softly. At what, exactly, was unknown to Logan. “But, they haven’t happened yet. And they won’t. Look at me.” They stopped walking and Patton turned towards Logan. He may have forgotten how tall the other was, because he had to crane his neck to look Logan in the eyes, which may have given him a disadvantage in looking serious. Logan would later argue it gave him an advantage in looking cute. “I’m right here. And I’ll be fine.”

Logan looked at him for a couple seconds. “I’m still getting some plants for your guest room, however.”

Patton rolled his eyes and started walking once more. “Fine, but nothing that suffers inside apartments.”

“Fair enough.”

As they kept walking through the park, the birds would chirp as if greeting Patton, to which he would happily smile at.

“You know, Lo, you don’t seem so concerned about those pictures. Isn’t that the whole reason you asked for my help?”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “Indeed, but I believe it would be best if we informed a certain Prince before starting our research, no?”

Patton laughed. “That boy. Could never stay out of the picture for long, could he?”

“I believe he thinks life would be boring if he didn’t almost die at least once a week.” Patton laughed again. “No seriously, you have no idea how many times he has shown up at my door exhausted after using his powers too much.”

Patton’s brow furrowed. “I thought he had sworn off using his powers?”

“You know him, he can’t stick to self-promises for longer than a month. Plus, he thinks he’s found a new track for that-” Logan nodded towards Patton’s general direction. “thing.”

Patton’s eyes looked at Logan in shock. “You can’t be serious.”

Logan looked at him with a sad smile. “That boy has never given up, and he won’t start now.” Logan stared up ahead where a young man with fiery red hair was deeply concentrated on his hands. “Plus, is it so unbelievable for others to be out there?”

Logan smiled at Patton as he walked towards the young man, which left Patton to shake out of his state of shock to follow after him.

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fandomn00blr · 5 years ago

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Dread Moon, Chapter 13 Excerpt

[Context: Post-Inquisition, Pre-Trespasser...Dorian has been ‘rescued’ and is headed back to Skyhold with his Inquisition fam. Anders is struggling to find his place in Kirkwall again, and without Justice. Hawke tries to big sister him to repair their friendship. It starts to work...sorta.]

[Oh shit! Also...have I mentioned how important Orana’s cinnamon buns are to keeping all of Hawke’s friends from killing each other?]

...

A hungover Evelyn was not happy that she had to practically drag Dorian and Cullen aboard the ship Harding had chartered for them the next morning. Bull, and even Alarion, who was technically their prisoner, though it was easy to forget that he would be taken directly to the dungeons as soon as they arrived at Skyhold, came along much more willingly. Aveline as Guard-Captain, and Varric as the official Inquisition ambassador in Kirkwall were there to see them off, and Merrill had accompanied them, having woken up as bright and chipper as ever before sunrise. Hawke and the others opted to sleep in and enjoy the comforts of the Hawke estate, which most of them had been missing for the past few weeks, months, and even years, in Anders’ case.

Just like old times, Orana had cinnamon buns baking and coffee brewing by the time Hawke even realized she’d missed her chance to say goodbye.

She rolled over, from dead asleep to wide awake in an instant. “Fenris!” The mid-morning sun was already streaming in through the curtains. “How could you let me sleep in and miss sending Trevelyn and Cully-Wully off?”

Fenris had already gone for a morning run, done his meditations, bathed, dressed, and was reading on the chaise across the room while enjoying a bowl of strawberries with his cinnamon bun and a cup of hot water and lemon, all parts of his routine that he had been missing dearly for quite some time.

“It’s not really a matter of ‘letting’ you…” he murmured, not looking up from his book.

“Is everyone else gone, too?”

“Isabela just woke up. She’s downstairs with Anders and Orana in the kitchen trying to convince someone to make her an omelette. Your sister said she had to go meet another potential donor for the College. And Merrill went with Varric and Aveline.”

“Why?”

Fenris shrugged, finally looking up at her. “Perhaps she was just being nice?”

“Weird.” She eyed his plate. “Are there anymore cinnamon buns?”

Fenris smiled and shook his head, returning his attention to the book. “I’m sure Orana saved you one.”

Hawke spent the rest of the morning nursing her hangover, gossiping with Isabela and Varric when he returned from the Docks, helping Merrill move more of her stuff into the estate, and insisting on buying Anders a new robe and a trip to the barber.

“You can keep the beard, Anders! But it’s in desperate need of some tidying up. Hobo apostate chic is so...not a thing anymore. And your hair could use a trim, too. The messy man bun still works for you, I think, but the dead ends...you’ve just taken the look way too far.”

“Even I get my glorious chest hair groomed…” Varric bragged, puffing his chest out even more than usual.

Merrill’s eyes lit up. “Really?!”

“Next time, Daisy...I’ll let you tag along to my appointment.”

“Oh! How fun!”

“I just don’t think I need --” Anders began to protest again.

Isabela eyed him knowingly. “No harm in cleaning yourself up! You know...in case you run into anyone cute…”

Anders shot her a quick glare and then turned back to Hawke. “Fine,” he sighed in defeat.

...

An afternoon shopping with and cleaning Anders up turned out to be quite exhausting for both of them, and they headed back to the Hawke estate tired, hungry, and irritable, but not entirely unsuccessful.

“It looks good, you know…” Hawke grumbled, trying not to look like she was admiring him too much. No one could ever call Anders ‘ugly,’ but new clothes and a bit of grooming had certainly reminded her how attractive he was. “I think eating food the past few days has helped a lot, too,” she added, just to annoy him.

“Thanks,” he grunted begrudgingly. He had thought the barber had done a fine job of accentuating the parts of his face that he didn’t completely hate. And the robe he’d picked, after so much fretting, was a nice teal velvet, free-flowing and comfortable, weighted perfectly for his tall lanky frame, with lots of useful pockets inside for potions and herbs and tools. It had gold accents that brought out the amber of his eyes and the various shades of blonde that actually washing his hair had revealed. Even he had to admit that it was nice to look down and appreciate what he was wearing, and how he looked in a mirror for the first time in...well, since he’d come to Kirkwall, really. Justice hadn’t really had much patience for vanity, after all.

But the two of them actually sharing a moment of gratitude and appreciation was short-lived.

“Anders, get behind me…” Hawke muttered, glaring ahead of them into the lengthening shadows of one of Kirkwall’s many winding alleys.

A large sinister-looking figure stepped out, brandishing a Templar’s sword from under his ill-fitting cloak. Several others, smaller in stature, but no less ill-intended emerged behind him. All of them wore hoods or masks to hide their faces. Hawke grinned. Too afraid to even reveal themselves...this would be easy.

“Our beef isn’t with you, Champion. Best get out of the way,” the big one muttered.

Hawke laughed. “I thought we routed all you inbred mage-haters out of the city years ago! Show your faces, you cowards!”

“We represent Kirkwall. You brought this murderer, this terrorist, back to our city, just as we had begun to rebuild from what he did, and we intend to do what you could not five years ago before he does anymore harm.”

“Kirkwall is BETTER NOW, you idiot! Are you so blinded by your ignorance and hate that you don’t see it?”

“I ask you once more, to please step aside. And let this man answer for his crimes.”

“No.”

“You don’t have to do this...” Anders muttered behind her.

“Oh, shut up. You know I do!” she said through gritted teeth, refusing to take her eyes off of the menacing group forming in front of them.

“Very well, then. Try not to kill the Champion, but if you must...” He motioned toward them with his sword and the rest of the group swarmed out of the alley, swords and knives and bows out in front of them. There were far more of them than Hawke had imagined, but they were clearly not trained or very well-organized, and many of their weapons were makeshift or old family heirlooms, heavy and rusted. Most of them didn’t stand a chance. Anders noticed several of the hooded figures were small, child-sized, even for dwarves, and he felt his stomach drop.

“Hawke, don’t!” he shouted. “They’re mostly civilians! And children!”

“They want to kill you!” Hawke shouted back, daggers flashing as she unsheathed them, ready to pounce on the first person who dared to attack. “Civilian or not!”

Anders was panicking. He didn’t want this. This is precisely why he’d hidden himself away in a cave for five years. He felt himself reaching for Justice, trying to will him to take over. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to see this, didn’t want to be a witness or to have to decide between his own life and that of someone else, let alone a child, however murderous. Justice could make those hard decisions. Justice could protect him from the guilt. But Justice was gone.

“Faith and Justice send their regards…” a familiar voice murmured. In his head? Mostly...though his shimmering presence was beginning to coalesce nearby. Compassion.

“Cole! Can you help?!”

The figure nodded, and Hawke did a double-take when she finally noticed him.

“Who…?”

“Nevermind! Get out of the way, Hawke!”

She stepped aside as the shimmering spirit-boy-thing walked right into Anders, and a blinding golden light exploded out of him, pushing the angry mob back as they shielded their eyes.

“Abomination!” the leader of the group cried out, his cloak thrown back revealing full Templar armor underneath, though it was ill-fitting and unpolished. “We must kill him before he transforms into a demon!”

But many of the others had begun to back away, lowering their weapons, pulling their friends and family members along with them.

“Your friends are smart.” Hawke grinned at the man, sauntering up to him with a swagger that Anders had always both loved and hated in equal measure. “Show me that Templar sword again, big man.”

He raised his sword in front of himself defensively, but he couldn’t hide his trembling.

“And take off that stupid hood!” Hawke whipped one of her daggers up and knocked his hood back to reveal a plump-faced, orange-haired man with a ruddy complexion. He looked terrified. “Ah, of course! Ser Mettin! Who let you back into the city? I thought we’d made it quite clear you weren’t welcome here after you threatened to...hmmm...what did you say about my sister? ‘Put that little witch in her place’?”

She dragged her dagger across his cheek, tracing the line of a scar that ran from his ear to his nose. “Bethany gave you this with one flick of her wrist, but you deserved worse. My sister really is the kind and benevolent one of the family. She’s busy at the moment, so I’ll go ahead and finish you off for her.”

“This is my city, too! You and your sister and your friends can’t just do as you please!”

“Why not? Meredith and the Templars certainly did for more than a decade…”

“That was different!”

“You’re right. She was cruel and abusive and driven to madness by her greed for power. We’ve just been trying to help this Maker-forsaken city.”

“Hawke, let him go,” Anders said. Cole was back beside him, watching curiously as Hawke pressed her dagger against his other cheek.

“He doesn’t deserve that…” she mused, sliding the dagger down his jaw to his throat. “How many other mages did you ‘put in their place,’ Mettin?”

Suddenly a barrier flashed between Hawke and Mettin, and the man winced, half expecting it to have been some kind of killing spell. “Let him go!”

Hawke turned around, livid with Anders for interfering with her kill, and it gave Mettin just enough time to throw his hood back up over his head and take off in the other direction.

“Go back to the estate!” she shouted angrily, preparing to pursue him.

“It’s not worth it, Hawke,” Anders sighed.

“I know...he’s pathetic, right? Totally out of shape...I bet he dies of a heart attack before I even get to slit his throat.”

Anders looked at her pleadingly, those damn doe eyes of his begging mercy for the man who’d just tried to incite an angry mob against them. She’d always had a weakness for them, and especially now, with his hair pulled back away from his face, and the new robe with its contrasting teal and gold drawing all her attention to them.

“Fuck, Anders! But he’s complete garbage,” she whined.

“So forget him. Let’s just go.”

Hawke stared longingly down the dark alley, then sighed. “Fine…”

...

#dread moon #my writing #writing collab #anders #hawke #fenris #mettin #my favorite templar to hate

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mrandmrsvex · 7 years ago

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Chapters: 3/? Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Basically all the tropes, Critmas, Christmas

Summary:

„Could you repeat that, please?“ „“You heard what I said, Percy.“ „I did. I'd still like you to repeat it, simply to make sure my mind isn't playing tricks on me. Because this sounds like something from your brother's mind, not yours.“ „All I asked was if you wanted to spend Christmas with me at my father's place, and make him think that you... that we're... that I have a boyfriend.“

Chapter 1: Driving Home for Christmas

„Could you repeat that, please?“

„“You heard what I said, Percy.“

„I did. I'd still like you to repeat it, simply to make sure my mind isn't playing tricks on me. Because this sounds like something from your brother's mind, not yours.“

Vex sighed and stirred her coffee. They were sitting in the most non-descript Starbucks she'd ever seen – oh, there were many nicer and more familiar little coffee shops dotted through town, but in any of them, they'd stand a chance to be met by someone of their surprisingly large group of friends. And having to awkwardly explain why she was having coffee alone with the newest addition to that group would be bad enough – if any of them overheard her proposition, it would be even worse.

„All I asked was if you wanted to spend Christmas with me at my father's place, and make him think that you... that we're... that I have a boyfriend.“

Percy only sipped on his coffee – he was most definitely used to better – and looked at her over the rim of his cup, one eyebrow raised high even above his glasses. At any other time, Vex would have had to admit that this pensive look of his was annoyingly attractive, especially focussed on her – right now it was only making her nervous in a bad way. She needed to make this deal. She hadn't expected him to be quite so indifferent.

„I mean, you told me that you're not doing anything for Christmas, really, with your sister staying at university with her friends. And you're pretty much the only one of our group who knows his way around an estate. And the only one sly enough to keep our story up without mistakes.“

Two little stabs against him, followed by a bit of flattery. She'd learned that it usually worked with Percy, and it seemed to work now – he leaned back in his chair, still looking at her, but far less tense than before.

„And why do you need a fake boyfriend for your christmas with Dad? From what I remember, it's usually you and your brother that team up to give him the finger at any occasion where you have to deal with him.“

„Yes. Usually.“ Vex stirred her coffee once again – her cup was twice as full as his was at this point, and getting cold. But she hadn't invited him here to drink coffee, really. „Except this year, because my brother's managed to find an actually reliable excuse with Keyleth on why he can't follow up on our father's invite.“

„I would've thought your father would want to meet this new girlfriend of Vax's. Did she not get invited?“

„Oh, she did. But her father has decided to give her her christmas gift early, and it turns out to be a double ticket for a trip all across the country, and they've suspiciously decided to cash it in right now, so they're probably going to be... somewhere, in the wilderness, during christmas.“

It was a brilliant excuse, and Vex had a hard time admitting that her brother was lucky to use it. She was more busy with being angry at him for leaving her to deal with it all alone.

„I understand that you don't want to go alone, but why fake an entire relationship? Take Zahra with you, and watch your father's head explode trying not to say anything inappropriate to your on-again off-again girlfriend.“

„I thought of that.“ She hadn't. To be fair, she hadn't thought of Zahra for quite a while. That nagging image of the beautiful white-haired lady in her head during lonely moments had been replaced by someone with equally white hair, but so far, she'd refused to think of it more clearly. „I really can't take Zahra. Not after last year's debacle with Vax and Gilmore. I mean, I do want to annoy my father, but I also kind of want to enjoy christmas for a little bit and not spend it fighting all the time.“

„Stay home, then. Make up a fake boyfriend here in town, and that you're invited to his family's this year, and tell your dad how rude it would be to decline their lovely invite in favour of his cynical one. That way you get out of the whole situation and get to enjoy christmas however you like it.“

However I like it, she thought. The way she liked it was most definitely not sitting at home with Trinket, while her brother was away with his new lady and all her friends had someone to celebrate with except for her. She'd even rather face her father alone instead of that – but she simply couldn't. She really needed this deal with Percy, but there was no apparent getting forward.

„Ok, alright, fine. I guess I'll have to be completely honest here, goddamnit. You really know how to push my buttons.“ She sighed and rubbed across her eyes, not noticing the soft smile that flashed across his face for a second.

„I can't do anything else, no matter what you or I or anyone else thinks of doing that's more reasonable. I wanted to call my father to tell him I'm not coming without Vax, but I got his wife instead. And, god, she's just so nice. So happy to have me visit for the holiday. So I panicked and couldn't think of another excuse and I thought, if I asked to bring a random guy they've never heard of, even she would say no, but she didn't. It got her even more excited to meet my new boyfriend who I made up on the spot.“

It all rushed out in an angry rant against herself, but she was still conscious enough to omit the part where she had immediately thought of him as the new boyfriend to bring – it was only, she convinced herself, because Percy was exactly the kind of guy her father would both like and hate to see as her partner. Wealthy and of a good position, able to better his delinquent daughter's status on one side. Actually wealthier and of a far better status than himself on the other side. And vindictive enough to jab back at any comment her father could make that would only make her rage. She'd seen Percy tear into strangers in the politest way possible when they were too quick to judge his new friends. She could imagine him do it just as perfectly against her father. She kind of wanted to see it, actually.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Percy's laugh. It wasn't loud, all-out laughter, more an amused giggle that slightly grew larger, but it was definitely more than what she was used to from him. She could count the moments of him laughing on one hand, and he definitely never did more than a short snort or grin if they were in larger company. She tried everything she could to make him laugh, but there was no time to cherish it now. He'd already stopped and leaned forward, a wicked smile on his face.

„Vex, if you'd just started with the truth of you getting yourself into situations you didn't assess properly because of your hotheadedness, I would've said yes right away.“ He emptied his cup and his smile turned softer, yet still wicked. „Alright, I'll come with you for christmas. It might actually be enjoyable to watch the chaos unfold.“

„Thank you for driving, as well.“

The 4 hour drive had been surprisingly pleasant. She already knew that Percy could be a decent conversational partner if only his mind was focussed on something else as well, so he couldn't constantly overthink everything he said. And focussing on driving safely through the more and more snow-filled countryside seemed to work.

„Well, I thought if you wanted to make a grand entrance for shock as I expect from you, we probably shouldn't show up in the heap of rust and ducttape that was once your VW beetle.“

He was the only one allowed to talk about her car derisively - if only because she could hear the hint of affection in his voice. Ever since they'd met a year ago, he had been working on her car at least once a month, fixing little hitches and larger problems. It was by now more of a project of his than a car of hers.

„Besides, I wouldn't want to drive in anything that unsafe through this snow.“

He shifted to slow down a bit, and Vex remembered the old newspaper clipping that Pike had quietly told her about. The one detailling the story of how the most influental business man of the area had crashed his car in a snowstorm. How the car behind him, equally filled with family, wasn't able to break quickly enough. How the only ones the Emergency Services could save hours later were a young boy and his little sister. She suddenly realised that Percy offering to drive them both was far more than just a small gesture.

A quiet rustling sound behind them snapped her back to the present. Trinket had gotten up in the backseat and was sniffing around Percy's headrest. Luckily she managed to push the large dog back before he could lick across his ear.

„Trinket, down!“ She turned to Percy, who seemed unfaced by it all. It had happened about 4 times during the drive so far, after all. „And I'm really sorry about Trinket shedding all over the backseat. I promise I'll clean it when we get back home. I just couldn't... the kennel is really expensive.“ That, and she really hoped for a calming pile of fur to cuddle at night after facing her father.

„It's fine, Vex. I've transported worse with this car.“ His mind flashed back to the one and only time he'd offered to play designated driver while on a night out with Grog and Pike and shuddered. „We should be arriving pretty soon, anyway.“

Trinket gave a short, dissatisfied snort before turning to the bag of gifts next to him. Vex reached back even further to shoo him away. She hadn't bought much – not like her father would be interested in it anyway – but showing up empty-handed had been out of the question, and even Vax had left her a small gift for their younger sister. She was far more surprised that Percy had brought his own little bag of neatly wrapped boxes.

„It's very sweet of you to get something for Velora, by the way. She'll love you for it, and so will her mum.“

„Well, I assumed that the rest of the gifts would be from 'us', so to speak.“ They hadn't really talked any further about their fabricated relationship, and Vex wondered if maybe they should've set some guidelines, but assumed that Percy would play along well enough.

„Yes, obviously. But then who's the rest of your boxes for?“ She couldn't help but grin, but he only answered it with his own smirk.

„You wouldn't expect me to forget Trinket, would you?“

„They're here! She's here! It's Vex'ahlia!“

She could hear Velora's happy shouting even through closed car doors as they parked next to her father's ridiculous top-of-the-line sportscar – Vex relished the far more polished look of Percy's well-kept Oldtimer standing out against the showboating of the modern car.

The little girl standing at the front door was excitedly jumping up and down, waving at them until Vex waved back, then ducking inside shouting again for her parents.

The whole trip was probably worth it just for Velora's big smile.

„So this is your father's estate. Quite something for an ambassador.“

Percy was politely understating and they both knew it. Syldor had not been happy with his contract until they included the most modern, painful architecture of a house as possible, and a garden to match it.

Vex remembered her teenage years in this house and thought back the beautiful, historic Whitestone mansion that Percy had brought her and their friends back to once, after a trip together, casually mentioning that he had a 'place to stay' halfway back into town when it was getting dark. Compared to her father's stark grey, minimalist house, Whitestone seemed like a fairytale castle to her.

Percy's mind seemed to work over the same thing.

„I can't really tell just from the front – is it about the size of Whitestone? It might be a bit larger, even. What a place for such a little family.“

„It's always about size with you men, isn't it.“ She snickered, especially when Percy playfully swatted at her arm.

„I was just wondering how your boyfriend's home measured up to your father's. I am here to make him feel inferior, right? That's part of the plan, even if you won't admit it.“

It was easy enough to avoid an answer by picking their luggage out of the trunk, but Vex had quietly assumed that he'd seen through all of her plan the moment she'd asked for his help anyway. Percy, meanwhile, opened the backdoor to a flurry of brown fur jumping and running down the gravel walk to the front door before Vex could say anything to stop him.

„Lord, that- DOG!“ was the first thing they heard of the deep, stoic voice of Syldor, followed by a delighted „Trinket!“ from Velora and a lot of slobbery noises and giggling. Her father stood in the door by now, looking them both up and down as they walked up to him.

„We expected you a bit sooner. I'm afraid lunch is already over.“

„There was an awful lot of snow on the roads. Better safe than sorry, right? But don't worry, we stopped at a lovely place two towns over to eat something.“

It could have been a perfectly normal chat if it weren't for the biting tone in both their voices. Vex had already pushed past him into the hallway, quickly followed by Percy, who almost stumbled over Trinket's wagging tail while Velora scratched the dog's ears. Her mother Devana had arrived right behind her by now.

She greeted Vex with a genuinely happy „Welcome home, my dear!“ and a hug before turning to Percy. „Oh, and you're the young man she told us about!“

„I don't recall the name, unfortunately.“ Syldor chimed in from the side, but before Vex could react, she saw a perfectly fake smile appear on Percy's face.

„I'm terribly sorry about that. We really should have met sooner, at any rate.“ He offered her father his hand. „Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the Third.“

Vex heard Velora below her quietly gasp as she stared up at the tall man, who now bent down slightly towards her after shaking Syldor and Devana's hands. „You can call me Percy, though, that's far easier to remember.“

Vex didn't take in much for the next few minutes. It was friendly chatter, basic questions about their drive and the weather and how wonderful it was to have snow for christmas, and how used to it Percy must be, coming from the North, and how nice it was to finally meet him. She was much more focussed on watching her father instead, his face shifting ever so slightly from the usually detached mask to a furrowed brow. All Percy had to do was give him his name, she thought, to make him feel bad already.

Luckily she noticed Devana turning to her and shared a quick smile with her.

„I figure you want to put your bags down and maybe rest a bit. Let me show you to the guesthouse – we had it made ready for you this morning!“ „Guesthouse.“ She echoed.

„Yes. We built it only this year after far too many visitors to accomodate in the main.“ Syldor's smile was not even half as friendly as his wife's. „It's just past the patio.“

Not even ten minutes, and she was already shooed out of the house like... well, like an unwelcome relative, Vex thought, when she suddenly felt a hand in hers, squeezing ever so slightly, and looked up at Percy.

„That sounds rather nice, doesn't it, Vex? We'll have some privacy from time to time.“

She wasn't sure what she enjoyed more – her father's brow furrowing even further at the edge of her vision, Devana's short chuckle, or the strange twinkle in Percy's eyes.

„It actually is quite a nice guesthouse.“ Percy sounded as surprised as Vex was once they'd gotten inside and Devana had left them alone.

It was more of a bungalow than a house, definitely a bit further away from the mansion than 'just past the patio', not that she cared. A small living room with a kitchenette – good coffee, Percy would be happy about that – and a bathroom with an actual tub. And a cozy bedroom, she deducted as she opened the last door to carry her luggage inside and stopped still at the sight of the large bed in front of her.

„Oh. Well.“ Percy had followed right behind her, it seemed, as she heard his voice directly into her ear. „The couch looks large enough.“

„Don't be ridiculous.“ Vex turned around a bit too fast, hitting him in the chest with her shoulder before he could step back. „It's a large enough bed, and it's only for a few nights. I've shared with Vax a thousand times, and he's never complained. I'm not a bad bed partner, apparently.“

„He's your brother.“

„Well then I've shared a bed with Grog or Gilmore on some trips as well, and they haven't complained either.“

„It's really not about-“ Percy sighed. His face was hard to read at times, but Vex wondered if she wasn't detecting a hint of very strong embarassment before he shifted back to his usual demeanor. „Alright. Fine. I hope you don't hog the covers, though.“

„Don't worry. It doesn't get nearly as cold as in Whitestone around here.“

He mumbled something she couldn't really make out before setting down his own bag on a chair at the end of the room and began to unpack. She watched him for a minute, almost absent-mindedly – his movements were still so new to her, and she couldn't resist the urge to study them. She could tell all of her friends from quite a distance simply based on their moving, a habit she developed for far worse things when she and Vax were younger. It was better to notice shifty behaviour or dangerous people from a distance rather than up close. But they were in a better place now, and her talent was worth not much more than being able to order their friend's drink long before they'd even found them in the pub and surprise them with it.

Still, she wanted to put Percy's to memory as well. He was slow in a very careful way, and precise. No movement seemed unecessary, everything was calculated. Vex wondered if he ever did or said anything without thinking it through at least three times. Then again, he seemed less decided and cock-sure whenever he was faced with the wit of the twins... or her alone.

„I wonder how long it'll take before we can make your father's head implode from sheer frowning.“ He turned to her with a grin, and she was glad her eyes shifted up quickly enough to not be noticed.

„If you keep flashing your title and flirting with his daughter right in front of him, probably just a few hours.“

„You just let me know if I take it too far. Preferably with a hard kick against the shin under the table, anything else I probably won't notice. We haven't really talked about this fake relationship beforehand.“

„Don't worry, darling. I don't think you could ever take it too far.“

She'd vanished towards the kitchen before he could stammer out a reply.

Her father's christmas dinner was smaller than usual – a few select and actually polite guests, rather than the party he used to throw when the twins were younger. Vex watched Devana sitting next to Velora, who happily turned her potatoes into mashed ones with her fork while the adults held conversations above her head, and wondered just how much they both had changed her father.

He was still more than enough of a pretentious idiot, though. Percy had been introduced as simply „Percy, Vex'ahlia's boyfriend“ - and kept repeating his full name almost in defiance while Vex grinned at the guest's various reactions to it and her father's face turning more and more sour.

Other than that, neither she nor Percy had much to fight against. Her father had decidedly seated them as far away from him as possible, it seemed, to avoid any discussions. Conversation with others at their table was light, and people seemed more interested in Percy's family business than his relationships.

Except for the traditionally eccentric and loud aunt that every family seemed to have – even one as cold and distant as Syldor's.

„So, now, you lovebirds!“ Aunt Sidiah sounded as if she'd had at least 2 more glasses of wine than anyone else. „Tell me, tell me more! Tell me everything!“

„I think everything might be a bit too much.“

„Oh, don't be like that, Vex! It's just such a rare thing for you to show interest in a boy, let alone bring him home! Not like your brother.“

Percy couldn't help but grin – he'd only just become a part of their friend group when Vax had decided to bring Gilmore to easter brunch at Dad's, but he had heard the only slightly exaggerated tale at their own brunch afterwards. Apparently Gilmore's glorious attire and behaviour didn't mesh well with Syngorn's high society, which was surprising, considering how much class the man could show if he wanted to – but maybe he and Vax hadn't wanted to.

„So tell me! How did you meet? When?“

„I'm afraid it's a rather boring story.“ Percy was quicker on the draw than Vex. „We were at the same New Years party last year – shared friends, you know – and both without a date, so I guess we were sort of left alone together. I don't know how much of it was on purpose.“ He winked at Vex, who was surprisingly quick to look down at her food. „We met for coffee a week later, and it just went on from there.“

It wasn't a lie, she thought. He didn't know the part where she'd annoyed her brother for a week that she had no New Years date to kiss at midnight while Vax had two, and maybe he hadn't noticed the wide grin on Keyleth's face when she'd introduced them to each other at the party. And he was simply polite enough to omit the bit where she'd drunkenly plastered a fat smooch on him at midnight. She remembered his bright red face and his flustered stammer, and the tiny smile that crept up before Grog with his novelty glasses smashed them both together in a bear hug.

Coffee a week later was more of a group tradition, anyway. He'd kept a chair for her when she was late, with his big bright coat.

„So it's almost your anniversary, then!“ Aunt Sidiah clapped her hands together. „Are you planning anything special?“ A wink. „Maybe a ring?“

Now Vex was faster. „I'd say a year is maybe a bit too early for that. I think fun at a regular NYE party will be enough for us.“

„And a gift.“ Percy smiled, and it didn't seem as fake as it had for the rest of the evening.

„If you want, darling.“

„Oh, always."

#Perc'ahlia #Percy #Vex'ahlia #Critical Role #Crit Role #Vox Machina #Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III

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