#they hunt clumsy wanderers walking above them

[oni-vin]

little baby man. widdle tiny baby dwagon man

anyway ye i wanted to draw one of the dragon species in my story but i can't draw animals for shit so chibi it is

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Somehow Technoblade had managed the spectacular achievement of becoming the odd one out in an entire community made up of rare and strange beings.

The fact that all the other residents were non-humans happened to be what made him different though. Wilbur had told him the history of the commune, how their town was founded with the direct purpose of being a safe place for mobs and hybrids to live in peace, secluded from the humans who hunted them, enslaved them, or would otherwise harm them. Their location was kept secret, hidden from most by enchantments, and they were almost completely self-sufficient in the way they were run in terms of food and stuff.

Only occasionally would somebody wander out to another village, to trade or just to seek a little adventure for themselves. Phil especially was prone to do this – a traveler at heart, his Elytrian nature – and he was the one who had found Technoblade in a rather... compromising position.

If by compromising you could mean having an arrow sticking out your back.

People didn't like Technoblade. And Technoblade generally didn't like people, but he liked it even less when they chased him out of their villages with their bows drawn. Phil had been kind enough to remove the projectile. Technoblade had bravely said it didn't hurt but then secretly dug his blunt nails into the palms of his hands hard enough to leave white indents. Then Phil had insisted on taking him home to get a proper look at the wound and clean it up.

Not all of the other residents were thrilled with Technoblade's presence at first, scared it could compromise their location. A lot of their tunes had changed when they found out other humans were the cause of his injury, even more so when Techno revealed this was hardly an isolated incident. People didn't like Technoblade at all.

(Most humans had little tolerance for that which they did not understand. And according to them, Technoblade was weird and very hard to understand. Techno understood himself perfectly fine, he always thought they were the weird ones.)

So he stayed and overall things worked out great. There were only minor issues caused by the 'only human around' thing. Their pub was a good example. A few of the others in the commune could simply fly or teleport, and those that couldn't had no problems either since they could rely on inhuman stamina to make the climb tolerable. Techno had a hundred rungs of a ladder he needed to brave with his pitiful human physique if he wanted to get up there. Same thing for Phil's ridiculously high-up birdhouse.

And then one day he got sick.

It was probably his own fault. Last night when it was storming he'd been coming home from mining and gotten completely soaked out in the rain. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably take his drenched clothes off and get warm and comfortable as soon as he got home – the voice sounded suspiciously like Phil when he lectured Techno about fixing his terrible sleeping schedule and eating more regularly. But he had gotten distracted by putting away the materials he'd mined into his chests and starting to smelt the ore and by the time he noticed he was shivering at how cold it was, his clothes were damp more than wet. He lighted the fire and felt too exhausted to bother getting changed, crawling under the covers as he was - though it didn't completely ward away further trembling.

When he woke up his head hurt and there was this annoying tickle in his chest, feather-light touches against his lungs. The clothes had become sticky and uncomfortable, peeling off his skin. Techno coughed into a fist and set out as normal, intent on resuming his tasks where he left off yesterday.

It would probably go away on its own.

Except the coughing didn't stop. Small bursts of it kept coming up when he needed them least. He was in the middle of one when a voice rang out behind him.

"Techno, are you okay dude?" He must have jumped a solid three feet into the air and for a moment Wilbur only chuckled at his reaction.

"I told you to stop doing that," Techno grumbled, a little too sharply. Just because Wilbur could literally appear out of nowhere didn't mean he had to use that ability to sneak up on him for no reason. Techno coughed again, hiding it in his elbow.

"You did," Wilbur acknowledged with a smirk, but didn't apologize. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look I'm doing, I'm headed to the mines." Techno swung his pickaxe up on his shoulder, kind of almost nearly dropping it in the process with how clumsy his hands were being. Stupid.

"It looks like you were hacking up a lung, really." Wilbur's features softened. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Techno responded. He started walking again, knowing Wilbur would have a hard time following him while in corporeal form. Especially in the daytime.

"Are you coming to the pub later? I've got some new plans to unveil, think they'll be sick." Wilbur did make a valiant attempt at following him, though he quickly started falling behind, floating inches above the ground and unable to keep up with Techno's human strides.

"Uh, I'll think about it?" Techno answered evasively. He wasn't looking forward to braving that ladder in his current state. His arms hurt just thinking about it.

Wilbur stopped to call after him. "What do you mean you'll think about it?"

But Techno was far enough gone to be able to pretend not to hear him as he descended down his mineshaft.

Techno liked Niki's hair a lot. He'd even told her so not long after meeting her.

It was long and wavy and a nice shade of pastel pink that reminded him of the sunset. Technoblade would consider growing out his own hair that long if he didn't know it was way too unruly to keep in shape and stay untangled. And if dyeing it wasn't such a chore – one he knew he'd be too lazy to undertake as regularly as he should – he might have dyed it from its boring brown shade into something more interesting.

Niki was glad he was keeping her company while she tended to it, combing through it with what he presumed was a comb made of a seashell. Techno didn't tell her he had only really left the mines early because his lungs were starting to strain from the dust down there, the coughing fits getting closer together with less time in between to let him breathe. He sat on the sandy shore and traced patterns into the sand with one finger while they talked.

Niki was telling him about her builds, and expressing her disappointment over how she couldn't easily show them to her friends. None of them could breathe underwater or deal with the pressure common at the depths Niki lived. But she loved describing them in detail.

She was just explaining the sea glass she was intending to use when Technoblade started coughing again. His lungs expressed their displeasure through a series of sharp pangs that shot up into his neck. The sound he made was wet and disgusting, like there was something liquid rattling around inside his chest. Niki stopped talking to look at him worriedly.

"Are you alright? Techno, what happened?"

He tried to wave her away but it was kind of hard with his body still intent on making it impossible for him to get oxygen. Techno closed his eyes against the blurriness of his vision to concentrate on inhaling slower instead. "M'fine." He could feel the phlegm in his throat.

Niki was pulling herself onto the beach a little, trying to get a closer look at him. "Are you sick?"

"No." Getting up so fast was a bad idea. His head spun and he felt incredibly shaky. Techno ignored it. "No, I'm not. It's fine. I think I'll just head home now."

He started walking away quickly. The afternoon sun felt unbearable suddenly, scorching. Or maybe that was the beginning of a fever.

Niki called after him to wait but confined to the water as she was, it wasn't like she could do anything to stop him. Technoblade walked until he crested the hill, already seeing the shape of the other buildings in the distance. He made it halfway through the grass field and then he felt too drained to continue. Deciding to sit down for a bit, he lay back and closed his eyes.

"Do you think he's dead?"

"I dunno, we should poke him with a stick to find out."

Techno groaned at the sound of loud voices, ringing painfully around his aching head. He cracked his eyes open – not sure when he had even fallen asleep - and tried to blink the three faces hovering above him into focus.

"Oh, I think he's alive. Kind of." That was Ranboo.

"We could still poke him, just to make sure." Tommy.

Which meant the third person had to be Tubbo.

Techno pushed up on his elbows to get into a seated position, hating how difficult it was. His limbs were weak, as if they were made of jelly or some shit. The light fever had escalated into him feeling like his entire body was on fire.

This was not good.

"-chno? Hey, anybody home?" Tubbo was talking to him, waving one hand in front of his face. If his frown was any indication, Techno had been spacing out for a while.

"Hm?" he asked.

"I think there's something wrong with him," Tubbo said to the others.

"I'm fine." Techno tried standing up but fell back onto his ass a moment later when dizziness plowed into him with the force of a boulder. Tommy snorted.

"Yeah, we can tell." He reached out but pulled his hand back as soon as it came into contact with Techno's skin. "Fuck you're almost the same temperature as Jack Manifold. Pretty sure humans aren't supposed to run that hot."

"I'll get Phil," Ranboo offered, teleporting before Techno had a chance to object.

He covered his face with his hands and sighed. This was going to be a thing now and that happened to be the exact opposite of what Technoblade wanted it to be. He just wanted to go home and sleep this off.

"You're not..." Tubbo broke through his thoughts. The boy hesitated, wings vibrating a bit with nervous energy. "You're not like... actually dying are you?"

Techno tried to answer but was interrupted by another coughing fit first. When he was done Tubbo looked even more anxious than before. "Probably not. It's just a cold."

It was definitely not a simple cold. Pneumonia, more likely.

"Oh good."

Techno agreed. Not dying would probably be good, even if he currently felt like death warmed over.

Philza took him to the pub, much to Technoblade's horror.

All his protests and insistence he'd be fine if he was just taken to his house were brushed off easily, especially when Phil took flight with Techno barely able to keep from falling off his back when dark spots took over his vision. If it weren't for Phil's supporting hands keeping him steady he's probably have fallen off.

Normally Techno didn't dislike flying with Phil – despite the other always making some quip about how little Techno weighed for his height. But this time the vertigo was horrible and made him want to puke. Maybe it was fortunate he had skipped breakfast this morning.

They landed on the wooden porch softly, Phil keeping Techno's arm around his shoulder as he put him down to make sure he wouldn't collapse. Techno wasn't about to admit he probably needed that, though he muttered a quick thanks under his breath, which was starting to get more wheezing by the minute. There wasn't an inch of his body that didn't ache.

There were a few beds in the backrooms of the pub, sometimes used for newcomers to temporarily reside. Techno found himself dumped into one, not really caring where Phil went when he left the room. Not when the sheets were so blessedly cool and comfortable. He could have probably fallen back asleep soon if Phil hadn't returned almost instantly.

"I checked with Sneeg, he said this should help a little." Phil sat down on the bed, holding up a cup with the nastiest-looking brown tea inside it Technoblade ever did see. "I'm sorry we don't have any real potions to give you, but he's closest to you in physiology, so I'm hoping this will be enough. We don't exactly have a lot of experience with human illness."

"Did you ask him if it was poisonous?" Techno asked, eyeing the steaming liquid.

"Don't be dramatic." Phil handed him the cup. Techno sighed and downed the herbal tea in one go, suppressing his gag reflex. Medicinal and earthy, it somehow tasted worse than it looked. He didn't think that was possible.

"Great, can I go home now?"

Phil shook his head as he got up again, taking the cup from him. "You're not going anywhere until your fever breaks. You think I flew you all the way up here for fun?"

"Possibly."

Rolling his eyes as he leaves the room, Phil once again came back only a moment later. This time he was holding a bowl of what Techno could only presume was water going by the cloth that was soaking in it. Phil gestured for him to lie down properly and this time Techno obeyed without complaint.

"I think it's best if you stay here for a while," he said while folding the cloth and putting it on Techno's forehead. The coldness of it did feel nice against his pounding headache. "The pub is the best place for us to take turns keeping an eye on you."

"I don't need you guys to keep an eye on me, though. I'm not a child."

"No, you're just a stubborn asshole with pneumonia." Phil drew back a bit, smile faltering. "And also the only human currently living in the commune. We don't have the needed supplies to treat you should this get worse, so I'd rather not take the risk."

And while he did a fair job hiding it, it was undeniably clear Phil was worried.

"Fine, I'll stay." Techno made an effort of showing how annoyed he was by huffing and pulling the blankets over himself. "But can you at least get me a book or something? Won't help much keeping me here if I'll be bored to death."

Phil laughed – light and teasing. Techno liked that a lot more than he did the worry.

"I'll see what I can do."

He spent a solid week in bed.

Much to Phil's relief, Techno's sickness did not get worse. But without proper medicine, it didn't improve as quickly as they would have liked either. He had to get better the old-fashioned way: waiting for his body to fight off the infection on its own.

Most of his time was spent sleeping. Whenever he woke up somebody else was at his bedside, to make sure he could eat and drink. Phil hadn't been kidding when he said they'd take turns. It was almost comforting to know there was always someone watching over him while he slept, though Techno didn't feel the need to say that out loud.

After that first week, he was recovered enough to at least limp out of his room and around the pub. He was too weak to attempt the ladder and any sudden moves were still likely to throw him into a coughing fit that could last several minutes. But he could sit at one of the tables and talk to Niki when she visited.

Or to the others, who all seemed to be coming by a lot more often than was usual.

Wilbur unveiled his plans and talked Techno's ear off about what he was working on. Fundy came all the way to the pub to try and sell him stolen trinkets. Ranboo was always coming around with some new book for him to read, asking him if he liked his previous recommendation.

(None of them visited as often as Tommy though, who always complained about having to be there while fluffing up his wings, yet always stuck around the longest even when Techno told him he'd be fine on his own.)

And with them around, Techno realized that despite being the only human, he had never felt less alone.

[tallstars-rewrite]

Chapter 31

chapter list / previous / next

It took very little time for Talltail to get completely lost. Frankly he had been so focused on the act of leaving his clan, he hadn’t given a lot of thought to his immediate course of action after the fact. He was not at all accustomed to navigating under heavy woodland, so he just kept going in what he assumed was roughly the correct direction of the twoleg place without thinking much about it. It was difficult to “think” clearly at all right then. 

Talltail had found himself walking nonstop throughout the night, in such a state of shock that he’d actually done it. He was no longer a WindClan cat. He was a rogue. Rogue. He repeated it in his mind but it didn’t quite sound real. I suppose it doesn’t matter who I am. I am no one. Just a wanderer. 

What did wanderers do? What was his day supposed to be without a clan to wake up to hunt for? Without duties? Without anyone to share news with? Unwelcome feelings of loneliness were already pricking at his pads. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, he had been going out of his way to be alone for moons. But the possibility was still there at least, cats always came to greet him anyway, even if it was often halfhearted. Now there was no one to look out for him, and no one he had to look out for. What a strange feeling it was. 

Where in StarClan’s name was he now anyway? He’d turned east, where he hoped the twoleg town he’d heard about would be. Reena once said that’s where they were going to head to first, right? The best course of action was to avoid any clan territory on the way there but...he wasn’t sure what clan territory looked like beyond his own and the immediate borders. Past the gathering place...it was just a lot of stupid trees that all looked the same to him.

Talltail decided he would cross Fourtrees and follow the Thunderpath--at a safe distance. Surely it would lead to more twolegs. To his right was rich deciduous forest. That was...probably ThunderClan?

But eventually the Thunderpath stopped. The hard stone spread out in a small gravely clearing and went no further. He didn’t know where to go from there, so he just kept going forward. His head was somewhere else as he walked, still not quite comprehending that he was really doing this.

Talltail was only snapped back to focus when he realized the forest he walked in was too dark for the time of day. The sun had started to rise and the sky should have been getting lighter, but instead, shadows enveloped him. The air felt wet and moisture soaked into his fur from the damp earth. He looked around. Where was the path he’d left behind?

An unfortunately familiar sharp musky scent like a bog-drowned fox hit his tongue, making his lips curl. He couldn’t really have gotten turned onto ShadowClan territory, surely? Fur started to rise along his spine. He never wanted to be in this dark muggy forest, with or without enemy warriors. The undergrowth around him was so thick and disorienting, he could almost believe the kit stories of ShadowClan’s territory cursing trespassers to be lost forever in the thick of it.

 Then there were voices. Talltail looked around desperately and thought about climbing a tree, but he had no experience with scaling trees at all. The dark scraggly bark looked daunting, and he feared the noise he’d make trying to scramble up it. Instead, he leaped into the bushes as pawsteps made their way through the dark.

“You think he came through here?” a rough voice growled. Stonetooth’s voice sent a mixture of anger and fear through his body. Had they scented him already?

“He said he was going hunting with Clawface. I saw him leave with Ashheart and Tanglepaw, and I know they’ve been coming this way.” That was Raggedpelt.

“This is far past where they should be taking hunting parties.”

“I’m sure they just got carried away--wait,” Raggedpelt paused. “Do you hear that?”

Talltail’s tail had lashed just once. He hadn’t laid eyes closely on Stonetooth since the day Brackenwing was killed.

 It was foolish what he was thinking of doing. Unbelievably foolish. But in that moment he was so overcome with emotion remembering Brackenwing, limp and slowly bleeding out, all he wanted was to tear the old deputy apart. The violent urge surprised him. I wonder if this is how Shrewclaw felt all the time. No wonder he was so restless. He pondered on the feeling almost thoughtfully, and then Stonetooth caught his scent.

“That’s WindClan. I know it is.”

“Those scrawny tail-chasers wouldn’t dare come this far,” Raggedpelt growled. “Who’s there? Don’t think you can hide in our forest.”

They can’t think I was sent from WindClan to invade! Who knows how ShadowClan will retaliate against them for that?

Talltail couldn’t believe what he did next, but what choice was there?

“I’m not hiding," he said, surprised at how steady his voice was. “And I’m not WindClan either. My actions are my own.”

Raggedpelt blinked at him almost surprised, and Stonetooth snarled, “and your actions have been a grave mistake. No cat trespasses in our forest. I know who you are, if Heatherstar thinks sending you to spy--”

“No one sent me. I’ve left WindClan. They can attest to that themselves.” Talltail, for all his anger, knew he had to make sure they believed that. “If you're a rogue,” Raggedpelt sneared, “then I guess that means there’s no law protecting you, is there?” He looked to his deputy asking permission, Stonetooth nodded. 

The world seemed to slow down for a moment. Raggedpelt crouched to spring. Talltail didn’t look at him, not breaking Stonetooth’s glare. He bounded over Raggedpelt, who yowled in surprise. Stonetooth seemingly hadn’t expected the pounce as Talltail piled into him and rolled the bony gray tom to the ground, spitting fury as he swiped hard at his face. He caught Stonetooth on the eye, who howled in rage and alarm as blood spurted from the open wound. Talltail’s claws were blunter than theirs, but that just made the puncture that much messier. He didn’t get more than one good swipe in before Raggedpelt’s claws were in his back, shoving him off balance, and teeth dug into his neck. Stonetooth struggled out from underneath him and snapped at his muzzle, gripping it hard in his teeth, his long front teeth leaving gashes down the side of his mouth. Talltail couldn’t manage more than a stifled yowl, as Raggedpelt continued tearing at his back.

 But Stonetooth’s eye was bloody and useless. There was some dull pleasure in that. He felt like he was being torn at all sides, and remembered blearily that day the ShadowClan apprentices had pummeled him, and a similar wave of panic washed over him. These were trained warriors and their claws dug all the deeper. No one would help him this time. Shrewclaw had better at least appreciate me taking his eye.

He thought he heard Stonetooth growl something, and Raggedpelt’s grip suddenly loosened. Talltail sprang upward, taking the scarred warrior by surprise. With one last clumsy slash at Stonetooth’s muzzle, which the deputy dodged easily, Talltail tore away from them and ran. Even as he did so, even though he knew a moment longer and their longer needle sharp teeth would have pierced him through deep enough to be a killing blow, he regretted it. Maybe he should have fought to the end, for Brackenwing’s sake. But it wouldn’t have done any good. He was too weak on his own. 

Adrenaline pressed Talltail forward, allowing him to ignore the wounds covering his face and neck and the warm feeling of blood soaking quickly through his short fur. He heard the two ShadowClan cats hard at his heels, snapping at his tail. If the ground was more open he would have outpaced them in a heartbeat, but he clumsily stumbled and scrambled over thick bushes and fallen logs that they had the agility to weave around with ease.

Eventually, somehow, the steps behind him died away. The trees thinned out. The forest he was in now was brighter, more open, and a sharp sour scent hung in the air, reminiscent of the Thunderpath stench. Maybe they let him go? He didn’t have time to ponder it. 

Only when he stopped did he realize how hard it was to breathe. He was bleeding more than he thought and the warmth spread over his chest fur, stark crimson red against the white. Dirt and plant matter stung his wounds, but he was too exhausted and sore to bother with them right now. The sun had lightened the sky to a pale gray and the last stars were fading. It was a relief to see the sky again.

 Talltail limped onward, his thoughts raging. He knew Stonetooth was not the cat he’d sought out to punish. StarClan could see and judge him. He felt a bit queasy at the memory of the deputy's eye under his claw, but at the same time a surge of satisfaction. It was less damage than Stonetooth himself had done, and Talltail didn’t regret it. 

Wandering blindly through the woodland, the air was less humid and muggy in this part of the forest and he was at last confident that ShadowClan land had been behind. Talltail made his way up a shallow hill and then down into a ravine of fallen branches and dry scratchy undergrowth. It was uncomfortable, but maybe he could shelter here for a moment. The pain was getting the better of him and he hadn’t even stopped to lick his wounds. Just a short nap and then he’d continue…

 He was already drifting the moment his eyes closed, and his hazy dreams began before he was fully asleep. He imagined he could hear growling under the earth and had the sudden feeling he was falling into it. In the dark of his subconscious, something whispered, You shouldn’t be here. A low, ominous creaking echoed in his ears, and he was overcome with a horrible desire to flee. Instantly Talltail forced himself awake with a gasp before the nightmare could go any deeper. He rolled himself to his paws, wincing as he forgot about the sharp dead sticks and thistles above him. The creaking came again from bony branches far above his head. Most of the trees here looked dead, some were unnaturally cut flat at the base, clearly altered by twolegs. Their branches looked like they could break and fall at any moment, but he’d been too exhausted to notice. Talltail had heard of ThunderClan and ShadowClan cats being killed by falling branches. It wasn’t just underground that a cat could be suddenly crushed. 

 The brief nightmare was still rattling through him, filling him with the desperate urge to run before something happened. He’d clearly gotten more skittish since setting out on his own.  But for once, he was actually able to obey the voices he heard in his dreams, and get far away from this ravine. No rest. Not now. 

How in StarClan’s name could any cat be content to live under so many trees, prone to breaking and falling in storms? Talltail thought. He missed the clear sky. He missed the unfettered fresh breeze. 

Stars, he’d barely been gone a day and he already wanted to go back. 

But you can’t, so stop whining! he hissed at himself.

As he continued to walk, pushing through thistles and tripping over dried bracken, his morose mood turned more sour by the minute. Would he be tormented with these dreams forever? I’m trying to do something, is it still not enough? Why, even when he was away from the ruined tunnels of the moor, did he still feel this sensation that angry dark eyes were glaring at his every move? 

For a moment his tired frustration made him think, still better this then to actually have him following me and telling me what a disappointment I am out loud. Talltail winced at that little indignant voice, and quickly snuffed it out. How could he think that? How could that thought have even entered his head? It wasn’t better at all. What kind of cat was he to even have that thought in the first place? 

Who cares what kind of cat I am anymore…? Yes, I’m certainly not good, I always knew that, and so did Sandstone. Now that he was away from camp, away from trying to keep up this charade, it was surprisingly easier to just settle into the resigned bitterness that he was a rather bad cat. A cat who was always going to fail his kin, and thank StarClan he’d at least had the sense to leave when he did. That was the last thing WindClan needed. He thought briefly of his dream at the Moonstone, of some creature built of rotting earth, tainting what it touched. Stumbling blindly around camp and leaving a mess where it went no matter what. A cat built of rot couldn’t simply...un-rot itself, right? That sickness was too deeply embedded. 

 Thankfully, it didn’t matter how he felt or what he thought anymore. A bad cat could still do something. Talltail imagined Dawnstripe would disapprove of him hungrily chasing after a fight. It wasn’t in line with how she’d taught him the warrior code. At least she wouldn’t have to know about it. The farther he got from home, the more distant he felt from the cat he’d once seen himself as. 

But...What do I actually do when I find Sparrow?  Should he just scare him? Attack him? Frightening him within an inch of his life and leaving some physical scars behind to make up for the ones he apparently lacked on his conscience might do it. But Talltail didn’t really know for sure what he was meant to do. It was hard to imagine that far ahead. 

He expected his paws would guide him, and when the moment arrived, he would feel this clinging presence hanging over him tell him what to do. And this time, he would listen.

 Ahead was straight edged structures, similar to the barn back home. For better or for worse, Talltail had arrived at what he could only imagine was twoleg territory. He limped onward, focusing on the burning anger rolling around inside rather than the horrible pain in his body. 

Though he was relieved to have found something other than the aimless woods behind him, Talltail wondered blearily how much longer he could make himself walk. There was a flat stone area on the outskirts of a twoleg structure. Without the tree cover, the sun beat down mercilessly and burned the stone under his paws. The heat reminded him that he had nothing to drink for some time, and his throat was painfully dry enough to make him wheeze. 

To his luck, along the edge of the Thunderpath stone, there seemed to be a puddle. Talltail almost jumped when he saw a dull, rusty monster some fox- lengths away. It was still, with no lights in its eyes. Maybe it was dead, or asleep. He crept as quietly as he could around it and sniffed at the smudgy stream of water that ran down the black stone, seeping into the dusty soil on the edge of the path. It was unlike any water or puddle he’d ever scented, acrid with monster stench but also strangely sickly sweet. If he wasn’t so desperate he’d look for something cleaner, but with no other option, he lapped up what he could stomach and continued towards the twoleg dens.

***

As the day went on, Talltail wandered hoping he might come across a helpful scent. He tried to shove himself through a prickly bunch of bushes and hissed in pain when the thick tendrils got caught on his fur and scraped at his injuries. 

“Stupid bushes,” he snarled “let go!” He yanked himself free, taking a couple thorns and a new scratch along with him, but he was in no state of mind to pay attention. He was starting to feel a bit dizzy, although his instincts hadn’t taken him out of fight mode yet. It may have been the only thing keeping him upright.

The twoleg place smelled awful. Their large straight edged structures of what he assumed must be their dens were blocked off behind rows and rows of wood barriers. Dead trees by the smell of it, but he’d never known trees to die so neatly aligned and so flat. The twolegs really did have unfathomable ways of shaping things in their unnatural territory.

 He sniffed the air in vain hope of seeking some familiar scents. As he stalked down the row of wood, cursing and probably leaving a thin trail of blood in his wake, he was aware of something watching him. Cat scent. Kittypets perhaps? There didn't seem to be anyone around. I don’t have time to deal with kittypets, he thought, and hoped the stories of them being too lazy to attack trespassers were true. Let them try to touch me, they’ll see what happens when they attack a warr...er, a cat trained to fight. The confidence of his thoughts made him feel a bit better, and let him ignore the fact he was really in no state to attack so much as a mouse.

Suddenly, there were voices whispering from above his head. 

“I told you I wasn’t making it up, look at it!”

“You woke me up to look at a dog’s half eaten dinner? What is that?”

“It’s a cat isn’t it?”

“I thought it was a tall weasel.”

“Whatever it is, it’s hideous.”

“You don’t think it’s one of those monster cats that lives in the woods do you?”

Talltail glared upwards, and sure enough there were two pairs of curious amber eyes peeking over the edge of the wooden barrier. “It’s looking at us,” said a tortoiseshell.

“No it isn’t--oh it is,” said a pudgy brown tom with a disdainful sneer. “Hey! Stop looking into my garden. No strays allowed. Go bleed on someone else’s grass!”

“Excuse me?” Talltail felt himself growl. Who did this pet think he was?

“Tyr! Don’t get its attention, you moron!” hissed the tortoiseshell.

“I’m not afraid of common strays, if this even is a proper cat. If I yowl, the housefolk will come out and then he’ll be sorry.”

Is that supposed to be a threat? Talltail shouldn’t be bothering with kittypets, but this brat was getting under his skin really fast.

“Do you think he has a name? Do strays have names?”

“Of course I have a name mouse-brain,” Talltail spat. “It’s Tal…” for a moment he paused. His name was given to him by his clan, a mark of his becoming a warrior. But when he betrayed them... Was it right to keep anything that would mark him as a former clan cat?

“What kind of name is Tal?” the brown tom huffed. “Whatever or whoever you are, just don’t scratch up my fence!”

Talltail had had enough of this kittypets' attitude. “Worried about the fence are you? I’d worry more about keeping your whiskers!"

Fast as hare, he leapt forward and jumped up at the fence. He wasn’t going to actually climb up onto it, which he easily could have if he was in a better state, but the kittypets didn’t know that. He slammed against it, reaching up his claws so they glinted in the faint morning light and the two cats screeched and scampered off their perch. The one apparently called Tyr made good on his "threat" of yowling back to his twolegs. Talltail couldn’t help feel a glimmer of satisfaction as he dropped back down. It was too easy. 

When he hit the ground again however, he wobbled on his paws and his vision became blurry for a moment. Why did that keep happening? He winced painfully as he tested his leg. There was a small smear of blood on the fence. That had been a really stupid thing to do, and a scabbed over cut was oozing blood again. He bit back a hiss of pain as he crouched to lick the wound. It was so frustrating. 

“I don’t have time to bleed out like this. I have...to find...that awful rogue!” he wheezed.

Talltail was weak and bloody and still limping painfully. Where was he even going? He felt more nauseous by the second, and was  aware of the blood that dripped from his chest fur. He recalled faintly something Briarpaw had told him once, that a cat could become sick and pass out if they lost too much blood. By the time that happened, it was unlikely that they could be saved. And that’s with a medicine cats care. Was he really bleeding that much, or was it simply exhaustion? He hadn’t eaten or drank anything other than that filthy sweet smelling water after all.

If he was thinking more clearly, perhaps he would have been terribly afraid. What happened to rogue cats when they died? Would anyone from home come looking for him? Would they find him like that, instantly dead after mere days on his own, fallen in filthy twoleg territory? Talltail growled as he stumbled on, as if he could simply will himself back to health. At last there was a gap in the tall wooden barrier, and he squeezed between the boards.

I might find it inside. I just have to find...I have to find it... Whatever he was trying to say to himself wasn’t clear. His thoughts were lost in a dense fog. Why was this happening? He sank to the ground, a sharp pain in his shoulders and legs shooting through him with every step. He tasted blood. Some cut in his mouth was bleeding heavily and he choked and sputtered as if he was sick. Then he really was sick, coughing up vile liquid and spit on the grass. There was nothing solid in his belly to throw up, but he heaved anyway, and colorful spots started dancing in his vision as he lost his sense of balance and found himself tumbled sideways onto the grass. What a pathetic way to die. You barely traveled for more than a day. 

There was another voice from somewhere, but Talltail was in such a dreadful state he couldn’t tell if it was in his head or not.

He thought it might have said, “By all the stars! What happened to you?”

Briefly one thought calmly surfaced in his mind, Huh...That’s strange, it sounds so familiar but I can’t quite place it….

 Then, he blacked out.

chapter list / previous / next

[kyanitegemverse]

Reunion - Ark AU -

Here we are! A bit about two idiots in love seeing each other again. 

some things will have links to help with some context! 

It was dawn when Avry woke up. The little makeshift camp she and Bishop had set up was hardly comfortable, what with the two of them and Bishop’s Argentavis all huddled under one roof. She groaned as she sat up, her back making a loud snap as she stretched. How long has it been now that she and Bishop had been stuck away from the rest of their little group? She wasn’t too sure. The days all seemed to blur together since she woke up here. How long exactly had it been? A few months? It had to have been considering the lunar cycle had gone through at least a few times. Her brow furrowed, a frown making its way onto her freckled face as thoughts came rushing back. Sometimes it was impossible to not think of how she was so far from everyone she cared about. All it took sometimes was the littlest things to remind her.

A stupid pun here, an excited tangent there. Thoughts of orange fur, red hair Avry had dyed, and long black expressive ears came bursting through. A reminder of a friend who put everyone else before herself. A reminder of warm fuzzy hugs just when Avry needed them. Off key duets belted out at the tops of lungs without a care in the world, and tired blue eyes that hid the stress the twitching tail betrayed. Sure they made her sad and gave her a dull ache, wishing for nothing more than for one of Aurora’s bone crushing hugs. But this? This was different.

The Moon and stars were a nightly reminder of the one person she loved more than anything. The one person who had stuck with her through everything. It reminded her of countless nights in her teenage years, looking up at the stars and the full moon, wondering if she was looking at them too.  The tears of joy the two shared at their first in person meeting at the airport that one spring. The many many nights they had stayed up way too late, talking about everything, nothing and all in between. Of how the sun shone on her skin and the wind tossed her hair during a Totally-Not-A-Date flight around town. Where one glance over at her with those violet eyes had stolen the breath right from Avry’s lungs and set a fire under her skin. If it weren’t for the whistling wind around them Avry was sure her pounding heart would have been heard. ‘Oh’ she had thought at the realization, and the questions that swarmed her mind as she could have sworn she saw the faintest dusting of pink on the shapeshifters cheeks. A first kiss, awkward and clumsy, with foreheads crashing into one another. Giddy nervous laughter as a second attempt is made with better results. 

The thoughts made Avry wonder. Did the others know she was stuck here? Did they care? ‘No of course they care!’ a voice cried out inside, trying to reason with her doubts and worries. But what if they didn’t? We’re they looking for her? Was she thinking of all their shared experiences too? ‘Does she miss me like I miss her?’ 

Something hard and cold brushed against her shoulder, snapping her out of her thought spiral. She was curled up against one of the shack walls, arms wrapped tightly around her legs. How long had she been crying? Red eyes looked over to see the beak of Macaw resting gently on her arm. “Hey buddy don’t worry I’m okay.” Her voice croaked out, reaching over to give the giant bird a scratch on the top of its head. The poor thing had been through just as much as Bishop and herself. A broken wing was objectively worse than an aching heart, especially now that the bird was their only real  means to getting back to their camp. Something did strike her as odd though. It had been at least a few days or so since the trip out to scout out the area just south of them. Surely the other three would have at least tried to look for them? She looked over at the bird again, noticing the expectant look in its eyes. “You must be hungry  huh. How about I try and get us something to eat.” 

With that Avry stood up, Stretching as best she could in the cramped space before grabbing her spear. Macaw turned to follow before Avry held up her hand. “You stay here okay? Make sure he doesn’t get hurt.” She said, nodding over to where Bishop was curled up. She made her way outside of the shack before the bird could attempt to follow her and set off hunting. 

It didn’t take her long to scavenge a decent amount of the edible berries Colby had taught her about. “Red, Blue, and Yellow. Don’t eat the black or purple ones.”  came the voice of the cook in her mind. 

Avry rolled her eyes at the phantom reminder. “But what if I want to try the purple ones.” She eyed the one on the bush in front of her. It was just sitting there. Taunting her with its inability to be eaten. Just one wouldn’t hurt right? She could finally figure out why her stegosaurus was so wild about them. They had to taste good then right? Right? Was she really going to try this? Avry looked up and around, knowing full well she was alone and far enough away from the prying eyes of her group mates and their judgement on these sorts of dumb ideas. Yes. She absolutely was going to try this. Plucking the purple berry from the tree, she held it up, sticking her tongue out to give it a little taste test. Or at least she would have if a loud thunderous roar didn’t cause her to toss the thing as it shocked her out of her concentration. Whipping her head around to the direction of the roaring, her eyes widened as panic set in. It wasn’t hard to see the Carnotaurus  in the distance, hell she could practically feel the ground shaking beneath her as it walked this way. If she moved on from here now she could avoid running into it for longer. “Alright I guess I’ll have to figure that out another time.” She muttered to herself as she wandered off, away from the destination of the titanic carnivore. 

A few hours passed and Avry was beginning to remember why exactly she left the hunting side of this to Cheddar. These obnoxious birds had been ever so slightly out of her range for who knows how long now. Perhaps longer than Avry would like to admit. But she had them now. There was no escape for these little dodo bastards. Finally some good fucking food. Or at least it would be if she could just catch the thing on the end of her spear. She broke out into a sprint from her hiding spot at one of the little flightless birds. It squawked and bolted off in a random direction in a panic with Avry close behind. It ducked past a few trees and took a sharp turn to the right, missing the sharp tip of the spear by a feather. “Are you kidding me?!” the woman growled in frustration before continuing her pursuit of the stupid bird.  Taking the sharp turn she found herself tumbling to the ground. She had tripped on something. A root? This was just her luck. The carnivore earlier, now losing her  potential dinner? She frowned as she sat up. “Good one Rayne. Can’t even catch a bird that has no self preservation instincts. Oh yeah Avry Rayne, hunter of the year right here.” She stopped herself as she turned to look at what she had actually tripped on. 

That was no root. Oh. Oh no. No.. that was absolutely a foot. A foot belonging to a rather familiar looking carnivore. “Oh fuck.” she muttered under her breath, unsure of what to do. How had she not heard the Carnotaurus coming? Was she really that focused on her hunt that she failed to see the danger that was so close to her? Wow this day really was getting worse by the minute wasn’t it. 

It was about to get a whole lot worse as the dinosaur above her moved as she was stuck frozen to the spot. The creature let out a low rumbling, almost sounding confused as to what had just happened itself. Avry could only watch from her spot on the ground as it turned. This was no place to stay but she really had no chance of out running this thing. If she remembered all the books she had as a kid, this thing could run at a max of fifty kilometers an hour. She always wondered why that exact fact stood out to her after all these years. Maybe she was about to figure out why. Funny how things like that work out.

Given there really was no hope in running from this beast, the best hope Avry had at not becoming lunch herself was to deter it with the spear. Backing up against one of the trees, she used it to stand herself up, shaking hands pointing the spear up at the thing that was absolutely going to send her back to the camp in just about the worst way she could think of.  The beast seemed to be eyeing her, a low growl in its throat as it stepped closer.

“S-stay back!” She warned, knowing full well the thing wouldn’t understand a word she said. “Trust me buddy I’m kinda lanky. “ She let out a nervous laugh. “Y-yeah that's right. I’m all stringy and gross and probably taste really game-y. There's really not enough meat here to be a snack! You’d be better off with a few dodos!” 

The Carnotaurus was still looking at her, moving its head from side to side, as if it was curious in its own meat eating way. The low growl continued to rumble in its throat as it stood up a little straighter, causing Avry to flinch. She held the spear out, tensing her muscles and shutting her eyes tight. This was it. This was how she died. Died stumbling through unknown territory doing her best to survive. But as with most things it seemed like her best just wasn’t good enough. She hadn’t felt this small and helpless in a long time as she waited for the feeling of sharp teeth clamping down on her.

But the feeling never came.

In fact the low rumble had stopped as well. But it hadn’t wandered off or she would have felt the heavy steps of it walking off completely disinterested. So what was it doing? Why was it taking so long?

“Avry?”

The sound of a familiar voice made her heart miss a beat. Daring to open her eyes, the sight before her caused Avry to gasp. The large prehistoric predator that was staring her down in her final moments had all but vanished. In its place however, was a person. Someone she had figured she may never see again. Was she dreaming? Because if she was this would be the point where she’d wake up back in her bed at camp. She did no such thing however as she stared at the shapeshifter in front of her with disbelief, shoulders slowly lowering as the tension in her body was let go. Avry opened her mouth to speak, hardly able to form words due to the emotional whiplash she was experiencing. 

“Avry is that really you?” The person called out to her again, sounding on the verge of tears herself. She too was frozen in place, mind racing probably much like her own was.

“Jess?” The name escaped her as if on its own, And Avry watched as the person responded. Straightening their posture a little bit, the hint of a smile making its way onto her face. Avry’s vision blurred as the mix of emotions came welling up to the surface. Without so much as a second thought, she tossed the spear to the side and broke out into a run. “JESSI!” 

“It is you!” The shapeshifter exclaimed, breaking out into a run towards her girlfriend. The two met in the middle, practically crashing into each other as they met in the middle of the space that had been between them. Avry wrapped her arms around Jessi the moment she was able to, burying her face into the crook of the other woman’s neck. She was openly sobbing at this point, hands grabbing at the fabric of Jessi’s shirt, as if needing some way of knowing this was all real. A moment later she could feel the shapeshifter’s arms wrap tightly around her, trying to pull her impossibly closer. Time seemed to stand still for the pair as they shared their first embrace in who knows how long. No words could exactly describe the mix of emotions Avry was experiencing. How long? How long had Jessi been there just ever so out of reach? Could she have found her sooner? If she had only looked then maybe just maybe the pair of them could have been surviving together from the beginning. 

“I thought I’d never see you again.” Avry said, voice muffled slightly from being up against the were-dragon's neck. She felt one of Jessi’s arms move, hand going to gently play with Avry’s hair - an action that did wonders for calming her down. 

“I’ve missed you so much Raynedrop.” Jessi murmured, tightening her grip around Avry’s waist. “There hasn’t been a day that's gone by where you weren’t in my thoughts.” The shapeshifter let out a shaky breath. “Everyday and night I that I could was filled with wishing to have you in my arms again.” The shapeshifter chuckled at her own mushy bullshit. “And now here you are, stumbling into my life by pure chance once again. It's almost like you’re supposed to be here or something.” 

Avry didn’t need to look at Jessi to know there was one of those lopsided grins on her face. “Oh can it you big sap.” She said with a laugh, moving to look into those stunning violet eyes. “I missed you too.” Sure enough, that lopsided grin had made its way onto Jessi’s face. She brought her hand to cup Avry’s cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear. Avry leaned into the affectionate gesture, a lovestruck look on her face. For once the world was still. Nothing seemed to dare disturb the pair and their reunion and for the first in a long time, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

 The shapeshifter let out a happy sigh, placing a gentle kiss to Avry’s forehead. “Just wait till you meet the others at camp. I’m sure they’ll be surprised to see another person with me.” Jessi said with a grin.

“Wait. Others?” Avry questioned, raising an eyebrow. Then the realization hit her. “Oh fuck. Jess I can’t go! Not yet. I still have to get back to the makeshift camp! I’ve got another person and an injured giant vulture with me. Ah shit Bishop’s gonna kill me if I don't come back with some sort of food. They’re both probably starving.” A worried look made its way onto Avry’s face as Jessi moved her hand to brush some of her bangs out of the way and tuck them away behind Avry’s ear. 

“Woah hey it's all good! Tell you what. I have some extra rations with me. We’ll get something on the way back for the bird and all of us can head back to my camp. Okay?” The shapeshifter let go of the embrace, walking over to pick up the spear Avry had dropped not that long ago. “You also might want this. Just don’t point it at me alright?”

Avry turned to watch where Jess was going and put her hands on her hips at the remark. “Oh well excuse me. Need I remind you that you were a giant meat eating dinosaur? What the hell were  you even doing transformed like that? I didn’t realize you could shift into dinos!” She took the spear as the pair began to walk back the way Avry had come from earlier. 

“I couldn’t. At least not before waking up here. Now I can’t really change into anything else.” She answered with a shrug. “Now come on let's get travelling in style.” Jessi stretched out her arms as the changed, bright red scales flowing down them like a wave out to her hands which now had talons adorning each digit. A pair of wings stretched out from her back, ripping part of her shirt in the process. Lastly a long scaly tail with that iconic arrow head tail tip protruded from the base of the shapeshifters spine. “It’s been awhile since we did this so I thought it might be kind of nice.” 

“You want to sweep me off my feet again? Aww babe that's so sweet!” Avry leapt into Jessi’s outstretched arms without hesitation, wrapping an arm around her neck. “Hope you don’t mind me backseat flying again.” 

“Oh no don’t worry. I expect you to navigate at least part of the way back.” The response came with unfurled wings and a running start as Jess lifted off the ground, the pair setting off back to the makeshift shack. Together.

[deepeststarfishsong]

Gentleman

Quarantine has my days all out of whack, so we're starting on week two!

Written for @helianthus21, @pray4jensen​, & @bend-me-shape-me‘s #SPNStayAtHomeChallenge 13/04 Monday 2. Gentleman.

Cross posted to Ao3. 

Thanks to @beccawoof, my love, for the beta and for having casual expertise in SNP canon compliance.  

Nothing about today was especially unique. They had, for all intents and purposes, wrapped up a typical job without any momentous happenings. They were hunting a wendigo just outside the Wheeler County line but they’d been able to stick to the game plan more or less and no one had been seriously injured. Dean appreciated jobs like these. They could mark one in the win column and skip town without any additional feelings of guilt; no one died on their watch and they walked away without additional scars.

Bartlett, Nebraska had been a good four hour drive each way but the warm August evenings and the rolling green farmland made for excellent driving. Dean had rolled his window down and settled into the seat, enjoying the easy pace and casual way Sam turned in the seat to discuss the case with Cas. An hour into the drive back to Sioux Falls, Dean flipped on his indicators and pulled off the 281 to fuel up the Impala and load up on coffee.

While Dean fussed with the premium handle, arguing with the machine and its failures to read his card, Cas and Sam wandered into the station still deep in conversation about the authenticity of internet accounts of wendigo psychosis. Nerds.

As he hung up the pump handle, Sam returned to the car, coffee in hand. “Dude, where’s mine?” Dean huffed.

“This is yours,” Sam smirked at him, handing him the polystyrene cup with ‘Thanks a Latte’ printed repeatedly in awful Old English type. “I’m going to make an attempt at sleep.” Sam gestured towards the backseat.

Dean thanked him by way of a nod, and slid back behind the wheel. “If you start drooling on my seats, I can’t be held responsible for punching you,” Dean teased. Sam grunted from the backseat, shedding his flannel and scrunching it up into some semblance of a pillow.

Dean looked up as Cas opened the passenger door. “Unless I am mistaken, this violates Rule Three, Subsection Three of the ‘Official Rules for Shotgun,’’ Cas mused as he got in. Dean had to laugh. They’d drilled Cas on the rules of shotgun for fifty miles on the trip out and damned if he didn’t remember each of them.

“Yeah, prolly, but the giraffe clause can be superseded by the long haul exemption,” Sam chimed in from the backseat.

“Yes, I can understand why,” Cas replied, more to his coffee than to either Dean or Sam.

After they pulled back out onto the highway, Dean stretched in place, settling into comfortable highway driving, and leaned on the gas enough to hear Baby rev ever so slightly. “Hey Cas, want to pick a tape so we can tune out Sleeping Beauty’s snoring?” Dean’s smile reached his eyes when he looked over and caught Cas’ gaze.

Nodding, Cas opened the glove box and began sorting through cassettes. Dean enjoyed the careful, methodical way that Cas went about mundane tasks; he picked up each tape delicately, holding it aloft to catch the handwritten title in the light of passing cars, returning it to a neat stack when he wasn’t satisfied with his option. It was a reminder of Cas’ ethereal origins, different somehow from the hurried, clumsy way Dean typically did things like this.

“This will do,” Cas said as he ejected Led Zeppelin II and replaced it with one of Dean’s old mix tapes.

Nothing about this day was out of the ordinary. It hadn’t been particularly mundane or chaotic or exciting, but Dean could feel a sense of nostalgia washing over him. It was often the little, seemingly inconsequential moments like these that became his most cherished memories. Sam was asleep in the backseat, the soft sounds of his breathing a reassuring presence. Cas was staring out the window at the ever-darkening horizon of green patchwork farmland, nodding along to Rush’s ‘Spirit of Radio.’ They were heading home whole and successful after a job.

And it was in that moment that Dean realized he was in love.

The words coursed through him, sending tingles through his limbs and his heart galloping around his chest. Love.

Dean didn’t often feel at peace; his life had made sure of that. The memories of Hell, of Purgatory, of the shit they’d seen and ganked chief among them were enough to keep even a jaded hardass like him awake at night. And then there had been the other stuff: Lisa, Ben, Bobby, Jo, Ellen, Pam, even Benny. And so, Dean relished in the rare occasion that he felt at ease.

Dean flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, loosening the joints and jumpstarting the blood flow. A few months back, he’d been staking out a vamp nest for what seemed like forever. While he waited impatiently, he’d remembered that he’d lifted a few books from the Sonoma County Library. He’d pulled one from under the seat at random, more intent to have something to fiddle with than read, but he’d gotten sucked into ‘Invisible Monsters’ pretty quick. Even once he was back at the motel, he’d ended up staying awake until daylight reading. One line had stuck with him. “The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.” That sentiment struck a chord in the ever-present background noise of his self-loathing and he found himself reiterating it in his head from time to time.

In the privacy of his own thoughts, Dean had often wondered how this electric charge between him and Cas would resolve itself. Cas was his best friend, someone who he needed and trusted, and Dean had never been in a mindset to risk losing that for a ‘what if.’ All of the pieces that came with these feelings were messy. He’d practiced bits of these talks to himself. ‘Would you stay?’ ‘I’m bisexual, I guess.’ ‘Please don’t leave.’ ‘I need you.’ ‘Would it be okay if I loved you?’ Not that he’d had the nerve to risk saying them outloud.

And yet, there were these moments that fed the butterflies Dean was doomed to carry in his ribcage. They’d always shared knowing glances, it was fifty percent of their communication. They had always been tuned to one another in a fight, on a hunt. Dean had never been certain if it was just their ‘profound bond’ forged in Hell and acuminated in Purgatory or something more. Usually, he would diffuse the tension with inappropriate humor. It was always easier to say things half in jest, all in seriousness.

Dean glanced over at Cas again, who was still enthralled with the passing countryside. Before he could look away, Cas turned and caught his eye, a warm look of contentment written all over his face. Dean didn’t miss the whisper of a sigh or the careful uptick of Cas’ mouth when he smiled. Love.

When Dean reached over with his right hand, setting it firmly on Cas’ thigh just above his knee, he wasn’t plagued with indecision. He wasn’t cycling though self-loathing worst-case-scenarios. It just seemed like the right time. There was something simple about this moment, this day, that gave him confidence.

Cas let out a contented sigh, and overlaid Dean’s hand with his own, intertwining their fingers. Dean gave him a little reassuring squeeze and Cas scooted a little closer to him on the bench seat, getting comfortable. It doesn’t have to be hard.

With his free hand, Cas fussed with the stereo, skipping the songs he clearly knew were next. Satisfied, Cas leaned back into the seat, ran his hand up the length of Dean’s arm a few times, then settled back into holding his hand against his leg while the Impala’s aging speakers played Bon Jovi and Cas hummed along. Wo-ah, we're halfway there, Wo-ah, livin' on a prayer, Take my hand, we'll make it I swear, Wo-ah, livin' on a prayer.

At a rundown Flying J at the edge of Sioux Falls, Dean circled the Impala to hang up the pump when Cas walked up behind him, arms laiden with water bottles and cans of Red Bull. Dean sidestepped to open the passenger door for Cas who rewarded him with a blushing smile.

“You’re lucky to have such a gentleman,” mused an elderly woman at the next pump, giving Cas a huge grin.

“Thank you,” Cas returned her smile. “Yes, I agree. I am quite fortunate.”

From the backseat, Dean could see Sam barely suppressing an overjoyed smile. Smug bastard. “Don’t think I didn’t see that,” he murmured.

Sam gave up his self control, laughing audibly and gave Dean an encouraging smile. “You deserve this,” he said simply.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Prompt Time: The Projectionist free-roaming Malice Angel's domain. Level 14 barely has any stimulating things, so wouldn't it be nice if he got to visit Heavenly Toys and got to feel all the nice soft plushies?

Summary: "The worst nightmare is the nightmare that continues even when you wake up." --Mehmet Murat ildan

Warning for character death, blood and mild!

[[MORE]]

---

No matter how much the hulking beast that was the Projectionist walked (or how far its warped mind perceived that it went), the one thing that it could be truly certain of was the neverending pain that permeated its skin and old bones, that followed every step with a diligent sort of precision.

A truly terrible and wretched notion indeed, as walking was all it knew to do anymore…

With a gaze lost to the expanse of the soundless halls ahead, and its thoughts long since seized from a lack of…Something...

A stimulus? A purpose perhaps? It had to be one of those, but it couldn't really recall which was correct.

It didn't know if it had ever known the answer to its plight at all.

But walking? Walking came easily!

Not that it wasn't a harduos task, mind you, just not so easy for the semi-mechanical abomination to forget.

One limb after the other, the creak of old joints and the sting of stiff muscles.

The dull ache at the base of its hips that sharpened as it climbed all the way to the base of its strained neck.

The painful throb of something squishy-but-not-quite encased in metal, and driven by the soundless clicking and blinking of things it could fix but not put a name to.

Walking was both easy and hard, but necessary.

If it could walk, it would be safe. If it could walk, it could keep an eye on its many projectors. If it could walk, it could defend itself and its many, many, responsibilities…

So walk it did, no matter how much the burden of it all hurt its patchwork body.

To anyone with a somewhat intact sanity, traversing the halls was a tedious and mind numbing act. Not that there was much that the Projectionist thought about anyway. It's mind was… Buzzing, but not with any musings of a past life. It was numb in a way its body could never replicate.

Fragmented after going so long missing a vital piece of itself. A soul stagnated from the splintering of its essence, as well as the nonsensically repetitive motions of a lethargic routine.

Long ago this creature was once told that madness was the act of repeating an action hoping to achieve different results. If that was so, then this wretched being was the maddest of them all.

Lost to a looping cycle of its own, doing things that it should no longer care for.

Because why tend to the projectors? Why hunt for intruders? Why search for a part that was floors above, well beyond its reach?

Yes, the Projectionist must be mad. So mad that it no longer could do much more than act out the same motions over and over again.

Couldn't do more than walk the halls and redo its tasks… A looping reel.

Following tired feet with a blazing light and aching muscles that never rested.

How tragically ironic.

An infinite paradox within another.

Until one day it got a breath of fresh air.

The lift was a tool of the horned angel. A contraption that it had once used, as the man it no longer recalled having been. To the Projectionist however, it was merely a source of annoyance.

A means for intruders to trespass in its corner of the studio. An heinous apparatus of mayhem and frustration.

It caused it to feel things that swelled in its empty chest cavity, until they became nothing more than a senseless rage.

The kind that made its hackles raise with territorial trepidation, which quickly became the distinct urge to fight over flight.

The Projectionist could not recall being a man, but it could instinctively recall being an animal.

A one of a kind apex predator that stalked the halls with reckless abandon. And anything that stepped foot in its pooling maze was fair game.

The things, miserable creatures that they were, tended to come from that hellish metal box.

It made the ink in its pool vibrate with such force that it flooded its senses in a most confusing way.

Overwhelming and unpleasant all on its own, but with the added dilemma of some half-baked critter crawling right in to seek out its most coveted treasure: Its many hearts.

The Projectionist loathed all who thought they could steal its heart twice.

Added theirs to the expanding collection dotted all around its many inky roosts.

Thus the lift was deemed an enemy spawning ground, one that the hulking semi-mechanical beast did not trust in the slightest, but one that it kept an eye on nonetheless… If just to have some peace of mind. As shattered as it may be.

Imagine then, how jarring it was, for a creature that did little else than roam, maim, and maintain, to find such a vile blight baring it's gaping maw at it in broad studio light.

For the first time in years, its routine was completely broken, with the Projectionist standing there just staring at the open lift with a stalling empty mind.

It did not know what to do. What to expect.

In a situation like this, what was there really to do? The distrust it felt of the lift coupled with its sudden and unexpected behavior was certainly quite troubling for a creature of the Projectionist's caliber.

So terribly dulled from its stagnant pattern that it needed time to even realize such an event was abnormal to begin with.

Once it clicked that, yes, the lift should not be in its domain and showcasing its hungry maw so pridefully, it did the only thing it knew to do to anything that offended it.

It shrieked aggressively and rushed it.

Now, once upon a time, a man by the name Norman Polk would have stared at this scene and bellowed with disbelieving laughter.

To see such a frightfully powerful beast struggle with something so mundane as an empty elevator… It would have tickled him positively funny.

Perhaps reminding him of this big old bully of a gator that used to sun itself near the drinking hole his old pops used to plant some of the best sugarcane in all of Louisiana (or so he boasted). Big and strong, enough so that it could snap a man's arm clean in half with just one bite, yet dumber than half a box of marbles.

That lump of gigantic muscle had gotten it's jaws stuck in so many crawdad traps that it was a miracle it had grown so big and strong at all. Lucky bastard that brute… the same could be said for the Projectionist.

If good old Norman could have witnessed this hulking horror struggle in the lift like it was fighting some battle of titanic proportions, he would have wondered how it hadn't gotten itself killed yet.

Sadly Norman could never question such things, as he himself was the abominable creature he would have likely found so humorous.

The mind was a fragile thing indeed.

One so incomplete as his, made the Projectionist truly seem like a dumb animal at best…

As the object-headed bruiser calmed down after its initial fruitless assault (in which it had toppled over and only further distressed itself), it began to attempt to right itself. Looking so pathetic like a turtle stuck on its back, until flailing limbs caught the bars of its source of frustration, and pulled with all it's might.

The thudding of heavy feet against the lift flooring sent vibrations that jolted its wires uncomfortably, making it screech at nothing as it turned to look for whatever was setting it off now.

Upon finding nothing it simply stood there, winded from the exertion of having to pull itself back onto its clumsy feet.

Not an easy task when one's head weighted so much.

Now that the few senses the Projectionist still had were not under any stress, the rage began to dissipate. The soothing silence pulled at its frayed sanity, both comforting and familiar in a world that had become so alien to its past self.

Boredom was sinking in quickly, beckoning it to move on back into its usual flow.

It lifted one leg, ready to begin the endless trek of the maze all over again, only to freeze when the lift door closed with it still inside.

The seconds trickled as it slowly processed the newest development to this earth-shattering event.

It was stuck. Trapped. Caged.

Another unholy screech left its ruined speaker as it began to thrash violently, trying to get out of this tight little coffin that tormented it so cruelly.

Calling out for freedom it thought it had.

A loud hum made the cage vibrate, and its shrieks only increased in intensity as it tried to protect its sensitive body from the droning it couldn't even hear.

Then the mobile prison began to ascend.

The Projectionist was no stranger to the levels above and below of its own. Sometimes it wandered up and down the stairs to check up on the myriad of hearts it had stored in multiple other places it had rested in, after chasing particularly persistent prey that didn't get the hint. Often it tracked ink that facilitated its navigation across these alien floors, as the vibrations of this substance helped it track down it's assailants (the footprints they left behind also helped).

It had frequent encounters with the doggish wolves it had seen strapped to tables. Most gutted before it could claim their precious insides itself, although some he found fresh and ready to put a meaty fist through.

There were also times where it had encounters with the thief that wore the grinning devil mask, often finding it near peculiar objects the fiend seemed to covet.

Tall necky things with sharp strings that hurt its fingers, round flat things that made a strange hum when it hit them with a closed fist, and big square things that had loose teeth that also made alluring vibrations.

The thief liked these strange objects, so the Projectionist made sure to track it through locating them whenever it could remember… If it could remember.

Thinking was much too hard when it had so much time just to roam and live inside its own empty head.

How strange was that?

As the tiny cage continued its ascension the burly beast fell to its knees and hugged them tightly to its chest.

It whined uneasily as it watched familiarity fade with each level that it passed, trying to ignore the hum that occasionally assaulted its sensitive cables and chords.

It whimpered louder when it felt like it should know what these distinct pauses against its inky flesh should mean.

Then, finally, the lift came to a pause and the doors opened up wide, showcasing its captive passenger for the world to see. Not that the Projectionist gave the world much time anyway…

As soon as it sensed an opportunity to be free, it lunged itself forward. The uneven weight of its patchwork form, causing it to trip up and tumble down onto the wooden floors.

It rolled a few feet, hurting its knees and cutting up it's right arm against a few steps of what appeared to be… A very wide space.

It had no clue what this place was, and the beady eyes staring down at it made the Projectionist right itself immediately and shriek in monstrous defiance of whatever harm the creature possessing them may wish it… only to stop and stare as nothing moved.

The strange thing that was staring at him was just a doll. A very large doll in the shape of the not-gutted-wolves it had previously encountered.

It cocked its head to the side ever so slightly, so as to not tip over, and grunted in acknowledgement that this was no threat to its existence.

Sure enough, gazing around, all the eyes that it could see were more of the drawings like the ones that its projectors played. A few of the flat devils that were strewn around, and a big devil doll to keep the wolf some company.

Letting out another grunt and a huff as it shook its head, the Projectionist turned to glance at the churning fountain of ink separating the two dolls, and promptly growled at it. Warning any of the vermin that enjoyed such things to keep well aways from it, if they did not wish a painful death to befall them.

The gross ink slugs were squishy, and hard to get out from beneath its nails. They stuck to its feet and made it feel icky and gross.

When nothing reared its ugly head out from within the fountain, the Projectionist marched on through this new strange place… Momentarily wondering if it would find more hearts for its collection.

The stimulation was doing wonders it seemed, if it could ponder such things.

Environmental awareness wasn't really a thing that it often considered while aimlessly wandering the halls. Its feet just took it wherever they pleased, gaze focused on nothing in particular, the patchwork bruiser just ticking by like a broken clock.

This newly discovered location was different, and brought with it new rules. The Projectionist was suddenly hyper aware and hyper focused on everything surrounding it.

The spacious expanse of this floor was interesting all around, truly a place where it could wander and get lost and just experience new things it couldn't in its maze.

Speaking of clocks, it whirred curiously as it noted all of the paraphernalia that was just everywhere. From limb swinging devil-clocks, to devil and wolf dolls of various sizes. At some point it found a bowl containing a squishy blob that jumped and changed shapes when it poked it out of curiosity.

The sudden movement had made the large brute shriek and crush the bowl with a powerful strike from its hand, but the blob had prevailed despite being surrounded by shards of ceramic that had cut into the large ink beast's hand.

Once established that it wasn't attacking him (and that the stinging pain was its own doing) the Projectionist let the bouncy mass be, and continued to just wander and take in all the three dimensional creatures that it was accustomed to see flat on the walls.

The room full of clocks and dolls was especially alluring.

There was a very big wolf plush like the one before in the spacy room with the fountain. The Projectionist fixated on it and approached, reaching out to pat the inanimate pooch's ears, and then reach up to pat its own round prongs in curious comparison. The toy was not taller than it, but certainly felt squishy where it was more solid.

It reached out to touch again, fingers sinking into pillowy fabric while it's palm ran over the new texture.

A strange little word crept up into its splintered mind: Comfy.

So soft it was to the touch… Would it feel good to lay on top of it?

Surely doing something of the sort would be against every survival instinct it still had keeping it going, right?

Walking was important!

Walking was surviving!

But resting… How its aching body craved to finally rest!

And look at just how inviting the plush's soft body was… it couldn't hurt to stop for a few minutes, right?

Against all odds, the Projectionist braced itself to a position where it would be less likely to hit its clunky head, then lunged forward. Practically purring as it felt itself sink into the comforting embrace of the false wolf.

Slumber, it would finally meet with it at last!

Without second thought, the Projectionist's light shut off as consciousness slipped away into the welcoming darkness.

-

Norman startled awake in bed, fumbling blindly as he tried to make sense of where he was at the moment, while kicking up his legs which were trapped under a mass of weighted blankets.

It was so dark! Why couldn't he see? He could always see in the dark halls, the light of the projector lens illuminating even the shadiest corners of the studio… He…

No. No he couldn't see in the dark?

And this place… He knew this place!

This was his and his wife's room back at their apartment.

A rush of confused thoughts flooded his frazzled brain, as Norman glanced around. His hand subconsciously reaching out to click on the bedside lamp, and it soothed him slightly when the darkness melted away under the soft yellow light that cast over the familiar scene.

He was home. But… how?

His bad eye darted about, refusing to focus as usual, while his good eye carefully surveilled his surroundings.

It landed on his bedside table, above the silly novel he'd recently picked up from the bookstore. There was a note there, waiting to be read by his curious eyes.

With a shaky hand, one much smaller than the brutish claw of the Projectionist, he took hold of the unassuming piece of paper.

"Went to the store to get a few things before dinner. Told the kids to behave so you could rest. Please don't overwork yourself ever again, you had a 102° fever dear. Love Maggie <3"

He read the words once, twice and then trice, heart hammering away in his chest as it all slowly sunk in.

Had it… Had it all been a terrible nightmare? Had he, in his feverish state, dreamt up all the horrors that he thought had really occurred at Joey Drew Studios?

Had he really conjured up all of the madness and pain in those hostile halls? Pictured his own gruesome transition into a mindless abomination that couldn't even remember it was a person? A monster that was too afraid to let others attack it first?

A dry and slightly choked up laugh forced its way out of his constricted chest as relief washed over him.

He was home…

He was home and he could think, and it didn't hurt to move his neck or limbs, and he was himself.

What a terrible nightmare his fever had gifted him, one that felt so real that he expected to find a monster when he slowly kicked the blankets off and rose up from the bed.

His bedroom mirror told a different story to what he'd thought he'd find reflected back. There he was, strong features, big round nose and lips, tired eyes (one moving about, never to meet the other's focus point since birth) and dark curly hair that was starting to gray.

He felt the stubble on his face and hummed softly to himself. He needed a shave, lest he end up looking like the photos of his Poppop Polk…

But first he desperately needed a glass of water. He usually had one resting beside his book, but Maggie had likely taken it back to the kitchen once he'd drained it throughout the night.

Not an issue. A leisurely walk around their home was a welcomed thing after he'd been so sure he'd be stuck staring at inky sepia toned (and slightly rotted), wooden panels for the rest of his miserable and dreadfully quiet life.

So that's what he did.

He put on some slippers and shrugged on his robe, and strolled out of the room at a very calm and deliberately slow pace.

It was honestly a little ridiculous how long it took him to reach the kitchen. He'd really had a grand old time of just listening to the background noises of the city, and admiring the house decor.

That really ugly vase his mama sent them as a wedding gift, where they kept a half dried up fern (he was terrible with plants and so was Maggie). The equally ugly rug his pops had found in a flea market and sent to them in the mail (ugly enough that his wife had begged him to burn it, so how could he not set it down so he could watch her purposefully scratch it up with her high heels, due to her pure and unadulterated hatred of the garish horror of checkers and polkadots?), the collection of child's drawings he and Maggie had taken to taping to the wall in proud display, as well as Aaron's many pictures (the kid really took the whole photography thing seriously since he'd bought him his own camera for his birthday).

Pictures… Oh how he'd admired the family photos so lovingly… Every portrait, every baby photo, every holiday he'd managed to document with his old battered camera that he hoped to fix one day.

That terrible nightmare had shook him up so bad that Norman genuinely thought he was never going to see those smiling faces ever again.

He passed by his children's rooms but thought better than to disturb them. They had classes tomorrow, and the clock told him that at this hour they'd be doing their homework, like he and their mother had stipulated early on.

They could do whatever with their time, but 18pm was schoolwork time.

Instead Norman carried on into the kitchen and breathed in the smells. A hint of freshly baked bread coming from the breadbasket they kept near the oven, as well as veggie soup that was cooling in the pot that was currently resting on the stove.

Fuck, he'd missed vegetable soup, and he hated eating his greens! How could a series of vivid images feel like such a lifetime when they were merely hours?

The mind sure was a mysterious thing, one much harder to understand than the projectors he maintained at the studio.

Shrugging to himself while taking a glass from one of the cupboards, the tired projectionist moved over to the sink and opened the tap without a second thought… It took a second for him to realize it wasn't water coming out.

The glass shattered upon being dropped by a retreating Norman, who stumbled back and away from the distressing sight as if he'd been burnt.

From the tap was coming out thick oily ink that smelled just as toxic as the deathly scent of the warped studio in his dreams.

No, this… this couldn't be.

It had been a dream! Hadn't it?

He was home! He was safe!

Except the ink pouring out of the sink contradicted this. So thick it was, like sticky tar, clotting in the drain and filling up the sink. It took far little time to begin overflowing and overtaking all it touched.

The color draining from everything the black substance came into contact with. Stretching out over the floor, crawling towards him, with liquid reaching fingers. Wanting to claim him.

Fearfully, Norman fled from the kitchen and down the hall. Not wanting to be pulled back by that demonic stuff.

The chemical smell was driving him nuts, burning his eyes and nose so terribly they were beginning to run.

He fled until his legs ached. But his tired stinging eyes found something quite concerning.

Norman hadn't moved an inch since getting to the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

It was as if he'd been slipping in oil the entire time. No traction to propel him forward, just a useless struggle against an unseen force.

And then a new smell hit him.

One that made his heart turn to ice in his chest. A coppery smell that hit the back of his throat, and made his mouth taste like loose pennies.

His hands felt warm and sticky and hurt to move.

Sheer terror of the familiarity of this whole scene made him feel absolutely nauseous. He knew he shouldn't look, knew what expected him once he did so, but he couldn't help himself.

Curiosity (morbid as it may be) was his mistress after all.

Norman looked to his left, where the doors to his four children's rooms greeted him, wide open. Inviting.

God...There was so much blood...

The mortified projectionist fell to his knees as he stared down in pure horror at what remained of his and his wife's beautiful children. His babies… all dead, torn apart by some heartless butcher.

The terrified look immortalized in their young and lifeless features making him sob openly. He shakily reached out to hold them close to himself, screaming in fright when his eldest son's hand shot out to grasp his blood covered hands.

Empty eyes that were once warm with love and childlike wonder, bore holes into Norman's own mismatched gaze.

"Why did you kill us daddy? Why did you take our hearts?"

The projectionist shook his head, tears and snot running down his face as he tried to deny it. Deny the atrocity the ghost of his son accused him of committing against his own kin. But no matter how much he tried, Norman couldn't speak over the lump in his throat.

Everything hurt, and everything was warm and sticky, his little ones' hearts still beat in his monstrous hands that had slain them without thought.

And then the click of the house key made his blood run cold all over again.

"Honey? Are you up?"

No… no no no no! Maggie! It wasn't safe! He wasn't safe! She'd die! He'd kill her too!

He tried calling out, to beg for her to run, but all that came out was the primal and blood-curdling screech of the Projectionist, as it turned and trampled over the corpses of its previous victims, rushing to claim another heart for it's collection.

Norman's very soul screamed upon seeing his wife's confused and then terrified face under the beast's burning gaze.

-

The Projectionist screamed. It screamed in terror and anguish as it kicked away from the comfy wolf it had decided to rest upon on a whim.

It screamed as it tried to force itself away from a person that was not physically there, thus safe from its violence.

It screamed, as Norman Polk was still very presently in charge of his mental faculties, after having had his "brain" so stimulated and overworked for the first time in years.

He screamed until the speaker lodged in his torso gave out, spluttering weakly as it temporarily short-circuited. The internal mess of organic and non-organic materials needing time to mend themselves once more into a semi-functional state.

Once finding himself incapable of producing sound, the Projectionist sat there, shaking and completely disoriented. Trying to make sense of reality and dreams that were cruelly senseless.

And then the weight of it all crashed down… He could remember.

He was a person, not a something, a someone.

A father… He was a father who could forget these things all over again, and hurt his loved ones. A father who couldn't protect his beloved and his children as long as he was this… Heinous monstrosity.

A monster who'd sooner dismember anything it came across than think twice about their identity. A menace to society.

With that knowledge Norman did the only thing he could think to do while he still had awareness.

He lashed out, letting the anguish and hatred of his situation demolish all that met with his brutish body.

Shelves broke, dolls were torn to shreds, the wolf plush was gutted, and the Bendy clocks shattered. All the while he screamed silently as he let the floodgates wide open to pour out all the torment.

Then, when there was nothing left to destroy, he cried.

Sobbing without a mouth or eyes to clear, hiding a lens into hands that could do cruel and devastating things.

Trembling inconsolably on his knees, in the darkness of a cold and dreary studio full of monsters just as odious as he.

Mourning what he'd become, until the memories faded back into obscurity. Letting himself fade back into nothing but an afterthought.

Above and well beyond out of sight, Susie Campbell wept as Alice whispered comfortingly to her in their shared mind.

The poor dear had only wanted her old friend to have a chance to be comfortable and rest. That, it seemed, had been a horrible mistake on her part.

There just wasn't anything in this cold and brutal world of theirs that could alleviate such misery as the one that burdened the Projectionist.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

It’s Game Mime! || Ariana & Juniper

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @juniperrivers & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana and Juniper decide to go to the rec center to play some soccer like friends do, CONTENT: Cursed

Juniper didn’t have much of a reason to pursue soccer. She was clumsy, barely able to keep herself upright, especially while running. Still, her aunt had forced her into it, and for what? It had been years since she had been on a pitch, or whatever they called it. She had made a good friend-- the soccer girl. Her aunt had told her to stop calling Ariana that, but it stuck. In an attempt to cure her boredom, and for something to do since the air was beginning to grow thick with mist and a bitter cold, she had been told to opt out of her usual routine of wandering around town for something a little safer, a little less out in the open. Regardless if Juniper thought her aunt was right or not, she approached Ariana on her own accord, asking if her old teammate would want to kick around a ball or two. At least, that’s what Juniper had in mind when she approached the rec center, pushing the doors open with her hip. The area was empty, save for the brunette at the corner, a bundle of black and white balls at her feet. “Soc-- Ari!” Juniper said loudly as she waived her hands above her head. She grinned widely as she approached the other girl, immediately throwing her arms around Ariana’s neck, pulling her into a hug. She gave her a tight squeeze before taking a step back, looking down at the balls. “That’s a lot,” she started to sign, then stopped, realigning her gaze with Ariana’s, only to stare at her hair. “Ohmigod! How did I not see that!” She reached up and looked at Ariana’s hair. “It’s so blue! It’s so pretty-- wow, it’s so pretty!” She spoke quickly, her words jumbling together, but she didn’t notice, or care. 

The invite to get out of her apartment came as a more than welcome distraction. It was crazy to think that only a month ago she felt as if she could barely move and now Ariana found herself unable to sit still. There wasn’t even the upcoming buzz of a full moon to blame it on though she was growing restless when it came to Lydia. It was hard to relax when she found it impossible to get that situation out of her head. When Juniper asked if she wanted to place soccer, she eagerly accepted the invite. Moving around and focusing on a game was exactly what she needed so she was quick to throw on her shoes and hop in the truck. When she arrived, she found the rec center was oddly quiet. She looked around and didn’t even see the normal staff hanging about anywhere. Strange, but she decided to shrug it off. It meant they’d likely get the field to themselves when they went outside.She had gone over to the balls when she heard familiar footsteps approaching. She looked up with a wide smile and wave. “Hey, Juniper!” Her voice came off brighter than it had in weeks, something about her energy contagious as she pulled into a hug. She laughed a bit as she pulled away. “Don’t worry, we’re only taking two out. We may be energetic, but we can skip hauling these around.” An absentminded hand ran through her hair. “Thanks,” she exclaimed, “Kind of did it on a whim and have been keeping it up. I think it’s fun. The kids I coach love it, that’s for sure.” It was funny how her words always came out so quickly. Her enthusiasm was always something she enjoyed and it brought a natural smile to her face. “I figure we can head out and do a little one on one. Not too strict with the rules, I know you hate those.” 

“I really, really, really like it!” Juniper emphasized by signing very exaggeratedly, her grin only widening. “If I asked you, would you do it for me?” She hadn’t ever dyed her hair, hadn’t ever tried. She wasn’t sure if her aunt would protest, it wasn’t as if she was putting herself under danger. She knew she had adverse reactions to certain foods, but hair dye? There was no way. For a split second, she thought about dying her skin, maybe giving her flippers a blue reminiscent of Ariana’s hair. No, Juniper thought. That’d be out of line. Even she knew that. “Uggggh, you’re totally right. Rules suck!” She kept the grin on her face as she bent down to pick up one of the soccer balls. She tucked it to her chest, both arms wrapped around it, as if she were cradling it. She gave herself a headstart through the doors, throwing the door open again with her hip. The weather outside was cool, she could tell that much, however she was kept warm by her blood. “Hey,” Juniper said a little too loudly, “over there?” She asked, looking over her shoulder for Ariana’s response.

“Of course, I’d be happy to do your hair a fun color for you,” Ariana said brightly, easily catching on to her upbeat energy. She found she welcomed just how contagious that energy was. “Would you like blue, too? That’s the color I’m able to see best so it’s why I went for it.” It could be fun for them to have some matching hair. That was something friends did, right? Either way, it’d be a fun time. Just like some rules free kicking the ball around the field. It was a good way to get bursts of energy out to say the least. “I don’t mind the rules of soccer, but I feel you, fam. Rules are boring.” And typically meant for humans. Like hunting season? No thank you, law enforcement. A wolf needed to hunt on the full moon and it was better deer out of season than actual people. They walked outside and she found herself adopting Juniper’s pep in her step with another soccer ball tucked under her arm. “Yep, we’ll go to that field over there. Get some sun while we play.” It was a little cool out. Some sun would be nice. She let the ball fall into the grass. “So, for the sake of no rules. Wanna just kind of chase each other for the ball?” 

“Blue would be so, so, so cool!” Juniper exclaimed. She clasped her hands together, eyes growing wide at the thought. There wouldn’t be much that her aunt could say if she just did it, right? After all, she was in college. At least, that was the excuse that others gave her when she told them that she couldn’t do something-- not that she never not did it, but still. “So boring,” Juniper echoed as she squinted at the sun. She followed her line of sight and gave her friend a nod before falling back slightly to link her free arm with Ariana’s. She tilted her head slightly to read Ariana’s lips as she spoke and gave an enthusiastic nod as her response before redirecting her attention towards the field that would soon have their footprints embedded in it. “Totes works for me!” As soon as they got to the field, she broke away from Ariana and held out her hands for the ball. She wasn’t the best with sports, it was half of why she had left the team. The other half being that she kept scoring goals in the wrong goal. “You on that side, me on this side?” She asked loudly, still close enough to hear Ariana’s response. 

“It would be,” Ariana responded happily, “And we’d match which is always fun.” After she did Juniper’s hair, there’d be some mandatory selfies taken. She couldn’t help but laugh at Juniper finding rules boring. For the most part, she’d agree. They existed for a reason, but those reasons were mostly human. As for soccer, she liked the rules. It was a structured way to let out all of her energy and she admittedly liked winning. Her laughter served as a response as she kicked one of the balls in Juniper’s direction. It glided across the cool grass over to her friend and she raised a hand over her eyes to block the sun as she called out. “Yep, we’ll start out on opposite sides. I’ll give you a 10-second head-start before I chase you for the ball.” Given her natural athleticism paired with her practice, giving her friend a headstart seemed like the fair choice. She counted to ten in her head before taking off across the field to chase down Juniper in some fun game of soccer paired with tag. It took her a few moments to catch up with her friend, but there was a wide grin on her face as she managed to steal the ball. At least there had been until she noticed something was off. The familiar smell of pastries filled the air and caused the hairs on her arms to stand on end. She looked around her, but there was nothing that indicated anything was approaching. The only thing she could hear was the two of them playing their game. Until the ball started to come apart at the seams and Ariana sent it hurling away from the both of them. 

Juniper dropped the ball in her arms to the ground, kicking the toe of her shoe against it. It rolled forward lazily and she looked to the ball that Ariana kicked her way. She pulled what she remembered the summer her auntie had forced her into the soccer club and stopped it with the side of her foot. It bounced back briefly and Juniper strained to hear Ariana’s words, once making sense of them she nodded enthusiastically. “Okay!” She yelled back, reaching up to give her friend a thumb’s up. When Ariana made her way towards the ball, Juniper’s flight response triggered and she kicked the ball awkwardly with her foot, it rolled a few feet, but not far enough. “Noooo!” Juniper laughed, chasing after Ariana as the girl took off with the ball. The smell of pastries filled the air, leaving Juniper’s attention to be drawn away from the ball that Ariana had. She sniffed, unable to tell where it was coming from. After a moment, she watched as Ariana kicked the ball away from them, it falling to pieces as it flew through the air. “What is that!” Juniper asked curiously as she jogged towards Ariana, eager to get a better look at the ball that now laid on the ground, the black and white bits falling away from each other. She glanced towards the opposite ball, noticing that it had been doing the same thing in the time their attention was on the one that Ariana had kicked away. “Uhhhhhhh, Ari?” Juniper pointed at the ball, eyes growing wide. 

“Stay back,” Ariana directed calmly despite the fact unease was growing within her. The balls separated into small black and white pieces. That paired with the smell of pastries made her suspicious of what was going on here. The small pieces started coming together to form two small creatures that looked similar to the one that always hung around outside Yours, Mime, and Ours… which was decidedly not promising in the least. “Shit,” she mumbled under her breath as they took form. Hopefully, they just scurried off and minded their own damn business. She was much more comfortable resorting to her wolfiness to fight, but she could feel the cool iron blade tucked away in her jacket. Her hand curled around the handle and gripped it tightly as she watched the little mime monsters take form. She slowly backed away with an arm placed in front of Juniper, but the creatures were now dead set on following them. Right then. “Be careful,” she warned, “These things aren’t friendly.” God, she fucking hated mimes. The first one came galloping toward them and she narrowly jumped out of the way. Her knife was out and ready now. She could get rid of these things with a blade rather than claws and teeth. They weren’t all that large though they moved erratically and silently. 

Juniper watched in horrific amazement as the ball-- no, pastry? No, tiny little beings came together. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she was curious to find out. How could they do that? They had just been balls! Then, pastries, now these little tiny people that, if she wasn’t careful, she could easily step on. Juniper blinked slowly and grabbed at the sleeve of Ariana’s outstretched arm. Her friend seemed worried, which indicated that Juniper too, should be worried. What did she have to worry about? She could rip this thing to shreds with her teeth if she wanted to. She had done it to plenty of fish-- most in her pod! Juniper was disappointed to hear that the little beings were unfriendly. She would’ve thought they’d make perfect friends. “Okay,” Juniper said cautiously. Juniper watched as they moved towards them, their tiny little legs jumbled and their movements erratic. “Should we kick them?” Juniper asked, too loudly, she was sure. She peered from around Ariana’s frame and watched as they began to move a bit faster. Juniper glanced at the side of Ariana’s face. Juniper had a flight response over fight, but this? This would be easy to take care of. Ariana was her friend, there’d be no way that Ariana would tell on her for eating the thing, would she? She ran her tongue along her teeth, nice and sharp. “Ummmmmm, what do we do?” She asked as she backed away, pulling Ariana with her. They were at their feet now. 

“I don’t think kicking them is the best idea. I don’t want them to bite your toes or something,” Ariana said calmly despite the fact she did not feel calm. Her instincts were screaming to lunge for one of the little shits, so she did. She leapt forward toward one of the things, ready to dig the knife into one of the pastry smelling beasts, but found it scurried away too quickly and she plopped right into the grass. “Fuck,” she mumbled before she realized it was beelining for Juniper. How much harm could it really cause? She wasn’t too keen to find out. “Fuck it,” she screamed, “Kick it to me!” 

Juniper watched in surprise as Ariana launched herself forward, the glint of her knife evident in her hand. It dug into the ground instead of the black and white being and Juniper tried to follow the small creature with her gaze as it began to run in circles. The other one, however, was teetering towards Juniper’s foot, and finally, she listened to one of the rules. “Right!” Juniper yelled out, kicking the black and white creature towards Ariana. It plopped only a foot or two towards Ariana. “Wait!” Juniper exclaimed as she ran forward, crashing into the ground just next to Ariana. “Let me hold it--” She missed it by an inch before it was running again, this time towards their ankles. 

Thankfully, Juniper seemed to catch on to her direction and one of the little mime creatures came rolling toward her. Ariana was quick to push herself forward to grab it before she heard her friend tell her to wait. “Wait, why,” she asked with a puzzled look on her face. Her moment of hesitation gave one of them a chance to run towards her, she immediately grabbed it and threw it toward Juniper. As she launched it out of her hands, she yelled, “YEET.” There was something cathartic about it and she’d always wanted to use it more in this kind of context. The mini mime friend ended up rolling right in front of Juniper. “Be careful, they bite… probably.” 

“My ankles, my ankles!” Juniper giggle-screamed-- why she was finding this funny rather than terrifying, she couldn’t quite pin. The mime rolled in front of her and Juniper let out another loud laugh, one that quite honestly, sounded more like a bark. The mime looked up at her dazed before she was kicking the mime towards the other side of the pitch. It went farther than Juniper thought it would have and it laid there, more than likely confused. “You’re going to be on the nauhgty list, do you know that!!!!” Juniper screamed after it, letting out a shriek at the feeling of the other mime latching onto the toe of her shoe. “Hey! You nasty little--” Juniper reached down to shake her foot around. “Aaaaaaa-rrrrrr---iiiiii!” 

The situation was entirely ridiculous, so it wasn’t like Ariana could blame Juniper for laughing about it. As funny as it was, she still didn’t want them getting munched on by some mime monsters of all things. A low growl came from Ariana as one of them began nipping at Juniper’s ankles. The other one was barrelling back their way too. Ugh. At least the growl seemed to catch the one on Juniper’s attention and she called, “Watch out.” She then lunged forward and grabbed the stupid thing by the leg before thrusting her knife into it’s stomach? Mouth? She couldn’t really tell. It made a silent cry and squirmed in her hand. She removed her knife and sunk it in again. This time, the creature melted into a familiar black goo that steamed on the ground. “Well, there’s one,” she muttered to herself before looking up to see where the other one went. 

Juniper moved her leg as soon as Ariana lunged, the mime now in her friend’s hands. “Oh, good job!” Juniper grinned widely as she held her thumbs down. She looked over to the opposite side, the other mime now running in circles. She looked over just in time to see Ariana sink the blade of the knife into the creature, and in a moment, it ceased to exist. “Whoa---” Juniper stared wide eyed before looking at her friend. She signed as she spoke, “you’re so cool.” She was interrupted by the additional mime coming towards them-- no, towards Ariana. Juniper leapt up. Now was her time to shine! She would destroy this mime! This mime was not a friend! Juniper dove to the ground awkwardly, her teeth sinking into the mime. It didn’t taste good-- not at all. She spat it out and it rolled onto the ground awkwardly, one of its arms gone. Did she swallow one of its arms already?

Ariana barely had a moment to recover or get the sticky pastry smelling goo off her hands before the other mime was hurtling towards her. “Thanks,” she barely managed to get out before she ducked out of the way. Thankfully, Juniper seemed to have this one covered. Her eyes widened as her friend took off the thing’s arm. Realistically, she always knew Juniper didn’t smell quite human, but to see it in action was another thing. Not wanting to ruin her favorite workout outfit, she still opted to stay in her more human appearing form. It’s not like two little mini mimes with stomach mouths really called for a full on wolf here. As the mime fell from Juniper’s mouth, it staggered around her feet. It looked ready to fight back, so Ariana quickly dug her knife into it. Another puddle of black goo melted into the grass and left it smelling of burnt pastries. “Holy shit,” she grumbled as she got off from the ground, “Well, so much for soccer!” 

“Those were not soccer balls Ariana,” Juniper managed to laugh out as she fell onto her back. The grass below her felt prickly on the backs of her arms. Juniper propped herself up on her elbows and stared at her friend. “That tasted… not good. Like it was trying to be something it wasn’t.” Juniper stuck her tongue out and rubbed the back of her hand against it, eager to get the taste off. Juniper sat up. “I don’t think they have any other little friends, right?” She looked at Ariana with concern before looking towards the building. She wondered if they’d go back to another dozen tiny little not-so-friend friends. The thought chilled her-- she didn’t want to have to eat them, not again.

[stonebreakerseries]

Day 2: Mercy + “That’s the easy part”

Day 2 of @oc-growth-and-development​’s OC-tober challenge and the @fictober-event​. Another successful merging of the two prompts, which I think paired rather well today!

Series: Stonebreaker (Original Fiction) Characters: Sylda & Valesha Warnings: descriptions of blood, language

“Act natural. We’re being followed.”

Sylda’s spine stiffened, her shoulders rising, her grip on the leather-wrapped bundle tightening as she clutched it to her chest. “What?” she breathed. She didn’t dare speak louder than a whisper, ears straining, hairs rising on the back of her neck and arms. On either side, the walls of the buildings rose two storeys high, their crumbling stone and sun-bleached wood giving the alley a ghostly, forgotten appearance. It was unsettling at the best of times, yet alone in the middle of the night. “Val, you’d better not be messing with me. This isn’t funn--” 

Beside her, Valesha continued her ambling stroll, one hand buried in her pocket, the other swinging casually by her side. Lanky, with knife-cropped hair and a face full of sharp angles, most readily mistook her for a young man. Wandering about after dark in her loose shirt and trousers only enhanced the effect. While Valesha’s posture gave nothing away, it was the look she shot, dark but burning like hot coals, that silenced Sylda mid-sentence.

“Shut up,” Val hissed. The hand in her pocket shifted slightly, adjusting its grip on something. “Behind us. Left side.” The silver light from Anayh, the smallest but brightest moon, cut the alley at an angle, illuminating the taller woman’s head and shoulder. “Just keep walking.”

Mustering the faintest of nods, Sylda did as she was told, continuing forward, heart stammering. Her arms and legs seemed to vibrate, palms sweating as nervous energy coursed through her. The awkward bundle pressed to her chest suddenly felt uncomfortably heavy. Uncomfortably obvious, like a beacon to every thief and cut-purse looking for an easy mark.

Gods above and below, why did we have to take the alleys? 

It wasn’t their territory. The Copper Hawks owned the rooftops - everyone knew that. It made for risky travel and easy escapes, the two often balancing each other out among their less skilled members, but serving the veterans well. But some jobs didn’t lend themselves to running along ridges and leaping between eaves. This time, it was the weight of the parcel and the delicacy of its contents. One wrong step on a rooftop, and the entire job would have been for nothing. She didn’t even want to imagine Davros’ face if that happened. No, Sylda was not going back to the nest empty-handed. Not again.

Never again.

“Drop!”

Valesha’s voice was a whip, cracking through the alley. Immediately, Sylda threw herself forward, twisting mid-air to keep the satchel skyward. Her back struck the broken cobbles, a shock of pain ringing from her spine to her teeth as she clutched their prize to her chest, both arms wrapped over it like a scaly creshek guarding its egg. Inside, she felt something creak slightly, but nothing seemed to to crack of splinter. Maybe it was true what everyone said, and The Errant Queen really was watching over her.

Or maybe the goddess was just biding her time.

Even as Sylda fell, Valesha was moving. She spun, heel grinding against the ground, her hand a blur as it snapped from her pocket and sent something bright and curved whistling into the dark side of the alley. Sounds pierced the thrum in Sylda’s ears; a yelp of shock, a wet wheeze, boots scrabbling frantically over dust and stone. Valesha, now facing into the alley, already had the tip of another talon jutting from between her thumb and forefinger, arm poised for a second throw. Sylda used to fall asleep to the sound of her practicing, the thud of the curved metal biting into wood strangely comforting as she hit her mark over and over again.

This time was no exception.

As Valesha positioned herself in the center of the alley, Sylda pushed herself further towards the street, careful not to lose grip on the leather-wrapped bundle. Distance is your friend, girl. Find it. Strike from it. Flee towards it. Just past Val, two shapes were moving, one stumbling out of a side alley, the other hanging back, hesitant to follow. As one of the figures - a man with stringing black hair and a close-cropped beard - spilled into the light, he fell to his knees, hands groping at the side of his neck. Throat tight, Sylda could only watch as he tugged - once, twice, three times - the warning on her tongue unable to make it past her bloodless lips. 

Don’t. Don’t try to pull it out.

On the fourth try, he succeeded. Val’s talon ripped free, the hook halfway up its length tearing through flesh, taking a chunk of his neck with it. The silver light made the blood appear black as it sprayed then pulsed in hideous gouts from the wound. The man, panicking, tried to stem the flow, but his hands were clumsy and shaking. It was over in seconds. With a final judder, fingers straining, eyes wide with shock, he slumped to the side. Limp. Lifeless.

There was still one more.

“Last chance, little rat.” Valesha’s voice was colder than the steel at her fingertips. She had never been a warm person, but something about her, half-washed in moonlight, a corpse framed by the stance of her legs, sent a shiver across Sylda’s skin. “Run back home before I change my mind.”

The sound of footsteps fading into the distance was Sylda’s only clue that their second tail had taken Valesha’s sage advice and fled. Breathing hard, she slowly struggled to her feet as Val knelt beside the dead body, hands patting along his limbs, hunting for hidden pockets, pieces of paper, something to sell. By the time Sylda was standing again, her breathing leveling out, Valesha had returned empty-handed, a sour look pinching her narrow face. “Fucker could have at least had some sicets on him,” she muttered, then held up her bloody talon. “Look at this shit. By the time we get back, it’ll be all dried on. I’ll be stuck for hours scratching it off.”

It was a little hard to feel sympathetic, all things considered. Luckily, Val never wanted anyone’s sympathy, yet alone Sylda’s. Muttering darkly, the woman shook it once, scattering tiny droplets on the alley wall, then shoved it back in her pocket. Lovely.

As Valesha beckoned her over to check the parcel, Sylda found her eyes drifting back to the corpse. She’d thought he was an old man, at first. The way he moved seemed stilted, like the grind had set itself deep in his bones. But up close, she could see she was wrong. Lying in a pool of black, his skin was still smooth, his hands dirty and stained but unmistakably youthful. If she had to guess, she might have placed him in his mid-twenties. Certainly no more than thirty dry seasons.

And now, he was dead.

She supposed it wasn’t so bad. Most barely made it halfway before meeting similarly ugly fates.

“Sylda?” Valesha’s voice tugged her attention away from the body. She was frowning, her dark brows angled sharply down as she readjusted the bundle’s leather wrapping. “What’s the matter with you? You’re acting like you’ve never seen blood before.”

Of course she had. As much as any of the others. Probably almost as much as Val, who had been in this business from the day she could walk. But, strangely, it wasn’t the dead man that had her so unsettled.

“You let the other one go.”

Val stepped back, jaw tightening, expression closing off. “So? Got a problem with that?”

They started walking again, faster than before, not wanting to linger. Even though most of the grey coats patrolling the streets turned a blind eye to murders among thieves, it was still never a good idea to be caught with a fresh body. You never knew when one of them might actually feel like doing their job. Swallowing, Sylda hurried to keep pace, Val’s long legs leaving her scampering.

“I just… didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Why not.”

This was dangerous territory. Sylda had to choose her next words carefully unless she wanted to be sleeping alone for a turn or two. “It’s just… you always say that if you’re going to make a kill, you’ve gotta do it once and do it right. Mercy just seems…”

Sylda trailed off, knowing she was toeing a very fine line. Luckily, Valesha seemed strangely willing to continue the thread. “It seems like taking the easy way out.”

Feeling a little sheepish, Sylda just nodded. It wasn’t that she thought mercy was weak. It as just... unusual, given who they were. What they did.

“C’mon, Sylda.” Val shook her head sharply. It was clear she was still on edge, all senses on the look-out for trouble. “Killing some idiot in a back alley? That’s the easy part. That sorry bastard didn’t stand a chance. But knowing when to let them go…” Pausing to check their surroundings, the pair exited onto the street, crossing quickly before slipping into an even narrower alley on the other side. “Mercy’s a lot harder,” Val continued, finishing her thought as they made a left, then a sharp right, losing themselves in Yelen’s tangled warren.

In a way, Sylda supposed what she said made sense. Death was just death. Letting someone live had a lot more uncertainty involved.

“I guess he might be a problem, in the future.”

Val nodded. “He could be.”

Sylda glanced across, regarding her partner for a moment. The moon was higher now, and the shadows rushed to full the hollows of Val’s cheeks, making her appear unusually gaunt.

“But you don’t think he will, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Why?” She adjusted her grip on the package, arms starting to ache now that the nervous energy had worn off. “I just don’t get it. How can you know something like that?”

“I never know. I just… get a feeling, sometimes.” As their surroundings grew more and more rundown, they slipped under a section of broken wall, only a few feet between its crumbling base and the dust-covered ground. Val paused on the other side to take the bundle from Sylda, allowing her to navigate the tight space. “This one tonight? He was just a fucking kid. Couldn’t have seen more than ten or eleven dry seasons.” She shrugged and, to Sylda’s quiet dismay, passed the bundle back once she was through the gap. Turning, thrusting her hand back in her pocket, Val led the through the abandoned building’s ground floor. “I guess I just ask myself: will killing this person make my life easier? If the answer is ‘no’, then...”

She shrugged, the gesture seeming to suggest the conversation was over.

Unfortunately, Sylda had always been good at ignoring those kinds of cues.

“What if he comes looking for you?”

Val scoffed, the sound echoing around the broken building. “Then he’s an idiot and I’ll go ahead and finish him off. But I really don’t see that happening. Do you?”

If he was as young as Val claimed, Sylda supposed she had a point. Besides, the kid hadn’t exactly caused them any trouble. Gods, he didn’t even bother trying to help his companion as he bled out in the alley. Knowing the way of the streets, there probably wasn’t any kind of bond between them. Just necessity. A set of eyes to watch your back, and report back if you die. Such was the way of things.

They walked in silence for a time, both women lost in their own thoughts. Sylda’s were split between her own doubts and the ache in her arms, but Val seemed unusually troubled. Her hand shifted in her pocket rhythmically, and Sylda could imagine the motion of her fingertips as they traced the talon’s wicked edge. One wrong move, and she’d be adding her own blood to the mix. She liked to play those sorts of games; test herself in strange, unsettling ways. Inevitably, she would slip up, then spend the rest of the evening glaring sullenly at her bandaged fingers.

Nope. Not on my watch.

“Well,” Sylda said, rolling her shoulders as they finally reached the last stretch of their journey, “I guess one good thing came of letting that kid go.”

“Oh yeah?” It was nice to hear a bit of humour back in Val’s voice. Her dark brown eyes flicked across. “And what’s that?”

A playful smile spreading across her face, Sylda nudged her with an elbow. “You don’t have to spend the night scratching blood off two talons.”

Rolling her eyes, Val groaned. But she slid her hand out of her pocket, reached across, and draped her arm over Sylda’s shoulders, so she figured her tasteless comment had been worth it.

“Wow. Morbid,” Val said. Then she grinned, and immediately set Sylda’s heart into an energetic flutter. “That’s why I like you.”

[narrans]

One Shot | September Prompts

TWENTY-TWO | Canvas

The air was frigid. It had stopped actively snowing days ago, but the aftermath remained. There was nearly a foot of snow in the yard and along the roads beyond the Shelter’s doors. Icicles hung like frozen wind chimes along the gutters of the house. Every breath released a personalized cloud.

Hickory loved the snow. She loved the cold. It reminded her of winters with her family in the Old House. It was a glorious home. There were at least a dozen rooms that were unused for a large part of the year. There were massive pipes in the basement which heated the house and, unbeknownst to the human, the borrower’s home. The Old House belonged to an elderly couple with dozens of grandchildren. Every winter season, the entire human family would come into town and stay in the Old House. There were scattered treats and goodies from the children, leaving plenty of borrowings. There were a few close calls, as there usually were in the borrowing profession, but they had always managed to get away.

Hickory missed those winters snuggled among her sisters crocheting and sewing thicker and warmer blankets and garments so they could play in the snow. There were times when Hickory would just sit by the exit to the outside world and just watch the snow fall. With her borrower eyes, she could see the intricate designs in the snowflakes before they melted in her hands. She heard the humans say something about no two snowflakes being exactly the same, but how would they know with their clumsy hands and squinting eyes? There were many things humans said that Hickory did not understand, and the statement about snowflakes was one of them. Even now as she crouched in the branches of the hedges in the backyard staring at the snow frozen to the evergreen bristles, she could have sworn two of them were identical.

She couldn’t think about that now. Now, she had to focus. Her prey was nearby. Hickory spent time in the outside world hunting with her father and brother. In the chaos that ensued on the borrower doomsday, Hickory did not know what happened to her father and brother. She pushed the thought from her mind as quickly as it came. She couldn’t think about the way she would rustle her brother’s hair to annoy him when she brought back more kills than him. She couldn’t think about the smell of her father’s leather vest which he rarely removed. She could hear the skittering and crunching snow of a small creature. Based on experience, it was a mouse. Hickory smiled slyly. Her position above in the branches gave her the perfect vantage point. Both offensive and defensive.

She pulled her scarf and hood over her head, deepening her breath to calm her mind. She pulled out a bow she carved from wood last summer and nocked a toothpick arrow which she sharpened and added feathers to. She inhaled and held the nock until she could see the rodent a few feet away from her position. Hickory could only hear the beat of her heart as she drew back. Pause. She waited until the creature’s eyes turned outward to the snow before releasing. At least it saw something pretty before it died. The climb was quick, and the cleaning of the field mouse was thankfully uneventful. She left it hanging for a short while as she stared out at the winter wonderland before her. The tip of her nose dripped more than a leaky faucet and her fingers and toes were growing more numb with every moment of inactivity. It was time to go. After securing the cleaned mouse to her back, Hickory set off back toward the house.

The path was a clear one from the hedges to the fence row. Thankfully, the fence ran close to the house to a pathway she carved the night after the snow. From there, Hickory forced her freezing limbs to climb to the gutter drainpipe where she had set up a pulley system. She stepped onto the nail and gripped the rope tight before she yanked downward with all her might. Just as her feet left the ground, she leapt as high as she could and watched the world zoom around her. Within seconds, Hickory had reached the top gutter of the house, two stories up. The slick surface nearly made her loose her footing a few times, but she secured the rope with several well-done knots before shifting one of the roof tiles to the side and slipping into the house.

The heat blasted Hickory’s face, sending a frigid tingle through her body. The cold, apparently, was more intense than Hickory thought. Her body began to itch and tingle as it thawed. Every inch now felt suffocated with heat. Hickory began removing her hood and scarf as she walked along the beams of the attic. It was a nice place. Secluded. Rarely disturbed by humans and borrowers alike. Dark and light. Warm and cool. The ultimate home other than the basement. Well… almost the ultimate home. [NO!] Hickory trudged forward across the beams to her canvas tent near the edge of the roof.

The tent itself was only big enough for one, maybe two, borrowers. It was constructed from an old, cut canvas Hickory found and stitched together some time ago. It was fashioned into a loose tepee structure and was filled to the brim with the softest fragments of clothing she could find. She also acquired a full-sized match box which she turned into a crate for various borrowings she came across on her outings. Eyes fully adjusted, she struck a match she kept nearby and lit a low wick candle. Hickory knew the dangers of having an open flame, but she needed to cook the mouse meat and the light would be nice. Her battery powered lamp was running out of juice.

With mechanical speed, Hickory set up her spits and carved strips of meat to hang over the flame. Everything was perfectly timed from rotating the spits to each cut of meat. She knew the meat would most likely get crispy, but she didn’t want to cook outside when it was so cold. It was a hassle to set up a safe grill, even when it was outside. This would be fine. After the meat was cut, she cleaned the mouse pelt and used part of an unwound shoelace from her storage box to tie the stretched skin to a frame.

Satisfied with her work, Hickory shed her wet garments down to her undergarments and slipped into the tepee where her in-home bed clothing lay in a crumpled heap. She changed quickly and then spent time setting out her wet garments to dry along the base of the candle holder. The slightly charred meat was ready. Dinner in bed was a good way to end the day. She tugged the scraps of cloth over her shoulder and chewed the tough cut of meat she selected and stared at the flickering flame. Other than the occasional crackle, there was utter silence. Hickory didn’t mind silence, but she certainly didn’t care for it.

She was used to hearing the conversations of passing borrowers from inside the shelter. She enjoyed hearing Roman and Remus banter back and forth before discussing some issue or another with Thomas. She liked sitting in the vents during movie night and listening in to conversations. Even if she didn’t contribute to the conversation, she liked being a part of it. It still kept her mind occupied. Complete silence left her alone to fill the space with conversations she wished she could hear again. The debates between her parents about the borrowing schedule and who would go out when. The sweet teasing when her sisters couldn’t decide what borrowing bag went with their patchwork skirts. Her brother’s singing in the spaces between the halls. His voice ringing out against the tiled bathroom when the humans weren’t home because the sound was better and her voice singing along with his. Hickory curled in on herself. It was in these silent moments she thought of them – her family.

Hickory glanced outside of her canvas tent. Not a soul in sight. Not even the elusive cryptid borrower who was rumored to wander alone all throughout the house. She was alone. Completely and utterly alone. She thought of going to visit someone, which would be the first time she talked to anyone since she walked away from Ali that night. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have friends or others she could talk to other than her human counterpart. It was silly that she was feeling bad for a human after everything that had happened to her kind and her family. Why should she care? Why couldn’t she shake this pit eating at her insides? Hickory suddenly realized she had lost count of the days she was gone. Hickory rubbed her arms with her cupped hands as though trying to warm them or shake a chill.

Hickory’s thoughts fixated, much to her dismay, on Ali. The look on her face after Hickory shouted at her. The sadness in her brow. The frustration and hurt in her eyes just before she left. The way her voice trembled as she fought every instinct to collapse into tears. The longer she thought about it, the more that pit Hickory felt developed a name – guilt and regret. Hickory had to admit the things she said were intentional. She was angry and frustrated. She wanted something to be done about the children and saw Ali as the only hurdle. Yet, as much as she attempted to bring out every wrong thing Ali had done to justify Hickory’s actions, there was some counterpoint demonstrating Ali’s good intentions. Hickory finally admitted something to herself, something she knew all along but tried to distance herself from since the moment she met her. Hickory missed Ali.

She missed their conversations late into the night about the most ridiculous subjects. Hickory missed Ali’s awkward attempts at explaining certain human behaviors and items humans created. She missed the way Ali read aloud to her, using different voices for the characters to add to the story. She missed the way Ali would listen endlessly to Hickory’s day and the adventures she remembered from the Old House. She missed Ali’s laugh and her intuitive smile.

But what could she do about it now? Hickory’s eyes stung with the threat of tears. Ali had forgiven Hickory for practically everything she had done. From the compiled list of cuts and stabs to the frantic scares and pranks Hickory had pulled, Hickory could rely on the fact that Ali would forgive her; but never before had Hickory cut Ali this deep. The intentional wound Hickory dealt that night could have been the final nail in the coffin. What was Ali thinking of her now? Was she even thinking about her? Did she care?

It took a few more hours of solitude to solidify Hickory’s resolve. She had to go back. Hiding wasn’t going to solve anything and Hickory concluded that there was no sense prolonging the inevitable. If Ali was still mad and didn’t want to see her again, she would have to live with it. If Ali was willing to forgive her, this gnawing guilt would be gone, and things could go back to the way they were. At least, Hickory hoped things could go back to normal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was her day off, finally. Ali had spent the past week and a half pulling double shifts from her shift as an EMT and assisting the newly formed borrower families in attaining supplies and adjusting to their new lives. Many families stepped forward and graciously opened their hearts and homes to the children. A few families managed to find their children, but that number, sadly, was not higher. Ali had only heard earlier that day that Patton and Virgil had adopted two of the kids, one teenager and one much younger. Ali hoped they were adjusting well, as she hoped for all of the other families.

The little girl, Vi or Violet as she eventually learned, had regained consciousness, but was still very weak and adjusting to her new life. She hadn’t spoken but was willing to communicate with head nods and shakes on how she was feeling. Axel hadn’t left her side once since that time. For now, they were staying with Perci. It was a temporary arrangement as Perci was more solitary, but she was willing to help where she could. Also, Perci was one of the borrowers who was willing to bring Violet by Ali’s room so she could check and see how her wound was progressing since Perci had limited experience with potential infections. Thankfully, Violet didn’t seem to mind the fact Ali was human.

Ali slept in, well past the morning, for the first time in a while before spending the rest of the afternoon reading quietly to herself. She was rereading a personal favorite as a means to relax. The house, chilled by the winter and snow, was perfectly still. Numerous blankets were piled onto Ali’s bed, providing the perfect amount of warmth.

She had just made it to the halfway point when she heard the familiar click of the electrical cover open and close. She averted her eyes instinctively and stared instead at the canopy above her head. The gossamer curtains shimmered in the ambient lighting in the room provided by the nightstand light and Christmas lights. It wasn’t until she heard her name that her blood chilled in her veins and her body tensed nervously.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hickory knew she was nervous. She could tell by the slight tingle in her fingers and the shiver in her spine that lingered even as she climbed down from the attic. She hadn’t been nervous about being seen by a human in a long time, and she knew why she was nervous now. One step after the other made a rhythmic tapping sound against the floor. She ducked under some wires and climbed a few stray nails to avoid some of the venting pipes. The wood beam lined walls and insulation absorbed the sounds of the chilled house. Still, a few stray laughs caught her attention from up ahead. It seemed like one of the families from the corner apartments had some new children. [They must be the children. That happened already?] Hickory couldn’t think about that now.

She trudged forward and scurried up the last set of ladders until she reached that same familiar corridor leading to Ali’s room. Now that she stood at the doorway, face cast in shadow except for the warm glow slipping through the electrical cover holes. The light rested just over her eyes, making her squint. This much light in the room meant the side lamp next to the bed was on and that Ali was indeed in the room. Before she could hesitate, Hickory pushed open the cover with the familiar click and stepped out onto the desk. She closed it behind her.

She didn’t remember when her knees became so unsteady or when her heart began beating so harshly against her chest. Hickory could see Ali behind the gossamer curtain which draped over the edges of her bed forming an elegant canopy. Breath unsteady, Hickory willed herself to the edge of the desk as she pushed past the nervousness in her core. Curses. Could she do this? Ali wasn’t even looking in her direction. Was that already a sign? Nerves fraying as she tried to talk herself into leaving, what last bit of self-control Hickory still possessed called out.

“Ali?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ali wasn’t sure if she had imagined it, but she had to look. She had to be sure. Ali turned over slowly to spot a familiar silhouetted figure standing on the desk. It was Hickory. Ali watched as Hickory, seemingly hyping herself up, walked briskly from the desk along the edge of the wall and the bridge to her nightstand, only slowing once she had passed the bedside lamp. The brisk pace, which conveyed determination and resolve, quickly melted into a timid hesitancy. Hickory’s shoulders were tense, just like Ali’s shoulders. Hickory wasn’t making eye contact, despite Ali’s attempts at catching those mischievous orbs for some sort of insight into Hickory’s thoughts. Ali slowly crossed her legs underneath of her as she faced Hickory, who now seemed to be trembling slightly.

For a week and a half, Ali had neither seen nor heard from her tiny companion. She had been worried for her safety and reluctant to press her luck by seeking her out. She was apprehensive as to what Hickory might do on her own. Ali was also concerned and deeply saddened that she may not see Hickory again. She was elated that Hickory was standing there in front of her and in once piece, unharmed. Yet, mixed into that elation, was a numbing shock. All of these emotions pent up over the past week seemed suddenly blurred and void. Now, when it mattered most, Ali wasn’t sure how she should be feeling. Based on her silence, Hickory didn’t seem sure how to proceed either.

Even though she was unsure, Hickory beat Ali to the punch. “I… I didn’t mean… I just… wanted to say… I’m sorry.” Hickory’s words were not stammered, but rather seemed to be pieced together on the fly, like she couldn’t get her own thoughts and emotions in order. She maintained eye-contact with the edge of the bedside table, as if looking at Ali would bring down a bolt of lightening to smite her.

“I said what I said because I was… angry… and confused… and frustrated. I know… you and the others were doing everything you could. That doesn’t excuse what I said to you, especially in front of the others. It was mean and cruel and I know I don’t…” [Deserve it. I don’t deserve your kindness. You’ve been nothing but kind and this is how I’ve repaid you.] Hickory couldn’t bring herself to sputter out her internal thoughts fast enough. All this time, Hickory tried speaking clearly, yet her voice had gone unused and sounded hoarse and raspy. She tried clearing her throat, but that only made her feel more anxious at how Ali was perceiving her actions. “I crossed a line. A lot of them actually. I know I don’t… deserve it. But…”

Hickory, even in her peripheral, could see Ali’s eyebrows raise for just a moment, as if to say, ‘you think?’. Hickory winced, her shoulders pinching in toward her chest. An intense tingling rippled through her lungs and her chest, a sure sign she was going to get choked up if she didn’t hurry. Hickory glanced up into Ali’s eyes. They were illuminated by the ambient lighting, yet lacked their signature brightness. Ali’s features were set in a mixture of neutrality and patience. Hickory found it hard to swallow her nervousness, but managed to choke out one last thing before realizing if she pressed herself further, she would probably start crying.

“But… I want to come home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ali felt herself inhale slowly, the breath hitching like a silent stutter in her lungs. She could detect no deceit in Hickory’s voice. It took a lot for Hickory to say what she did. She wasn’t into sharing too many of her true feelings after all. It took a lot of courage to come from relative safety and admit you made a creature hundreds of times bigger than yourself upset. It was a big move, no pun intended, for Hickory to come. Hickory admitted that what she said was wrong and that she was sorry. Hickory hadn’t stayed away. She came. She was here. She was alive. After everything that happened in their shared past, Hickory was asking to return. All of these things were as good of a sign as any that this moment mattered more than ever. It was the tipping point.

Ali, trapped in her thoughts for what felt like an hour, smiled meekly and nodded slowly.

“Okay.” Ali hadn’t realized her own throat had constricted with emotion during Hickory’s apology. “You’re home.” Hickory half sobbed, half laughed as she exhaled and wrapped her arms around herself in a comforting hug.

“But…” Ali continued, which froze Hickory in her moment of relief. Ali paused as she bit her lower lip. She knew she had to be careful and proceeded as such. “There are some things that I want to say. You don’t have to say anything, but I do want you to listen and hear me out until the end. Okay?” Hickory seemed unsure. She seemed to be teetering on the edge of running into the embrace of sadness or leaping from elation. Instead, she nodded almost imperceptibly. Ali braced herself with a single breath before continuing, speaking slowly and clearly.

“I’m not mad, or angry, or frustrated. Not anymore. Admittedly when you said those things to me, I was very angry and upset. I shouldn’t have walked away the way I did, and I apologize for that, but I didn’t know what else to do.” Ali looked to Hickory who, once again, was staring at the most interesting bedside table edge she had ever seen, refusing to meet Ali’s eyes.

“What you said to me was… cruel… and deliberate. It was meant to hurt me, and it did. I get it. You were scared and frustrated and angry, I know. I was too. I still am.” Ali felt the weight on her chest lifting, though her heart pulsed with pain with every beat. “Still, I don’t think I deserved being hurt like that.” Hickory nodded absent-mindedly. She seemed to be absorbing everything well enough, honouring Ali’s request of hearing her out until she finished. Ali continued to keep her voice even and calm.

“What you said about me not knowing what you’ve been through. You’re right. You are absolutely right. I don’t know every little thing you’ve been through. I don’t know exactly how you feel. That doesn’t mean that I can’t sympathize with you. It doesn’t mean that I can’t try to understand your perspective. But you know what?” Ali was beginning to find it difficult to keep her voice from quaking. “That also means that you don’t know how I feel. You don’t know every little thing about me. We’ve shared a lot with each other, Hickory, but there are things we keep for ourselves – and that’s okay – but that doesn’t mean we shut the other person out because we don’t have an exact scenario to match the other’s pain.”

Tears gathered in the corners of Ali’s eyes, mirroring Hickory’s reddening eyes.

“I know we didn’t meet under the greatest of circumstances, but since that day I have tried everything I could to see the world through your eyes. I’ve tried to help and listen the best that I could. Sometimes, I had to learn the hard way. I certainly have enough souvenirs to prove it.” Hickory glanced to Ali’s hands, noticing for the first time that her right hand was covered in band-aids and scabs from where Hickory had assaulted her hand with her pin. Hickory looked away guiltily, knowing that the current damage to Ali’s hand was only a small fraction of what Hickory inflicted on her human companion. “I know that you didn’t want to keep going after I found you, and maybe you think I took your choice from you. I don’t know. Maybe I did. All I know is this Hickory – I wouldn’t change my decisions for a second.”

Hickory’s attention snapped to Ali’s eyes. Ali had stopped her that day – or, to be better put – Ali had helped her realize that, for whatever reason, she wanted to live.  

“Hickory, I wouldn’t change any of my choices because they’ve made both of us into who we are, right here and now. We’ve both done a lot of growing up in a short amount of time. I know I couldn’t have done that without you. I’d take it all again in a heartbeat because I care about you, and that’s not going to change – ever.” Ali and Hickory held their gaze, each seeming to feel those darkened thoughts and feelings which they locked away and kept contained breaking free, releasing those unnamable feelings and re-forging a way back to one another.

“I don’t think it’s fair to pin all of these feelings of anger and frustration for all of humankind on me. I’m not perfect, but I cannot accept the blame for every single thing the humans have done.” stated Ali softly. “But you know what? You can’t accept that blame either.” Hickory felt herself stiffen and glanced away.

“It’s not on you that the borrowers were discovered. You’re not to blame for the doomsday that happened. It’s not your fault that your family was found; and it’s certainly not your fault for what happened to them.” Hickory felt herself scowl and bristle at Ali’s words. She half-glared at Ali. Something about what she was saying was getting to her, making her heartbeat faster and her breathing shallow. “It’s that scum of the earth that did those things. Why are you blaming yourself for what someone else did? It’s not your fault.” Ali fell quiet while Hickory processed what she was feeling. Hickory poorly stifled a moist sniff and wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve.

“I know,” she muttered, keeping her eyes averted.

“No… no you don’t. Hickory, it’s not your fault.” Said Ali firmly. Well, firm for Ali anyway. Hickory watched Ali’s hand hesitantly inching toward the bedside table.

“I know,” Hickory said, replying in the same tone.

“It’s not your fault.” Somehow hearing it out loud, saying it out loud, was sinking into Hickory’s subconscious. Was this what she had been feeling all this time? Had she been feeling responsible? Responsible for what the humans did to her? To her family? Saying, out loud, that it wasn’t her fault cracked that final lock to those unnamable emotions. Cheeks warm and eyes burning, Hickory realized tears were lining her face. She tried hiding it by covering her face with her arm. When that didn’t work, she covered her face with her hands. Ali’s expression changed from careful neutrality to a pensive smile. Ali’s hand was mere inches from the edge of the bedside table.

“It’s not your fault,” said Ali gently. Ali was right. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t the fault of anyone in the Shelter. The outside world was just as messed up as it always had been; so why was she wasting time blaming herself? Hickory sobbed into her hands. She felt a slight tapping by the edge of the table. It was Ali’s finger, showing her that she was there – showing her she was always there. Hickory lost the fight with herself and ran forward. Ali’s hand raised just as Hickory came smashing into it. Hickory wrapped her right arm in the notch between Ali’s thumb and index finger and pressed her face against the edge of Ali’s palm as she sobbed. She felt Ali’s fingers gently close around her, barely brushing against her shoulders while her thumb rubbed her side comfortingly. Hickory’s vision may have been blurred from the warm, salty tears pouring down her face, but even she could see that Ali had begun crying too. Ali was nowhere near sobbing her eyes out, but at least Hickory wouldn’t be the only one with red, puffy eyes.

Hickory felt Ali’s hand rotate slightly, allowing Hickory to lay along Ali’s palm. She didn’t fight it and allowed Ali to lift her from the table to just below Ali’s left shoulder. Hickory turned and grasped the fabric of Ali’s shirt. Ali did not remove her hand, keeping it gently placed around her frame so she wouldn’t fall. It was the closest to a “forgive me” hug they could achieve given their height differences.

“Ali, I’m so sorry!” wailed Hickory, her voice coming out as a wet, muffled mess since her face was still pressed into Ali’s shirt. “Do… do y… you forgive me?” Hickory felt Ali’s shoulders shake in a disbelieving laugh.

“I forgave you the moment you said it,” she muttered. “I was so scared, Hickory. I thought I’d never see you again. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

For a time, the two could only choke out random murmurs and half-hearted sobs. It was a long and arduous road, but nothing worth having comes easily. They realized that now. The air cleared. The moments passed. Now, the baggage between them was scattered to the wind.

After they calmed their breathing, Ali tilted her palm and pulled it away about a foot away. Hickory sat contentedly on the edge and continued to wipe her eyes on the cleaner parts of her clothing.

“So? What now?” sniffed Hickory with a thoughtful smirk. Ali mirrored the smile.

“Well… I think,” she started as she wiped her eyes with her unoccupied left hand. “We start with a clean slate.” Hickory rolled her eyes and brought one leg over the other, crossing them.

“Why is it called a clean slate? Who uses slates anymore? We’re not ancient dead people,” remarked Hickory snarkily. Ali chuckled breathily, bringing a rush of warmth to Hickory. She hadn’t realized how much she missed Ali’s smile and laugh. “Think about it! A slate is a big, ugly rock you carve into. You can’t just get rid of that. That’s too much work.”

“No, we’re not. And that’s definitely true. I guess… It’s just an expression. Did you have something else you’d like to call it?” Hickory thought for a moment.

“How about a blank canvas? Canvas is a lot easier to paint over. Plus, painting is more fun than rocks.” Ali thought for a moment but nodded in agreement.

“Okay. We’ll be a blank canvas.”

“Does this mean we have to re-introduce ourselves?” asked Hickory. Ali shook her head.

“No, we get to keep that on our canvas.”

“Darn it,” Hickory cursed slightly, a mischievous smile flashing over her lips. Ali’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I wanted to introduce myself as Little Hickey. Then, you could introduce me as your Little Hickey.” Ali’s jaw dropped as she stared to the ceiling for some unspoken guidance before she covered her eyes with her left hand. Her shoulders shook violently as she suppressed her urge to burst out laughing.

“I’m not doing that,” said Ali in playful defiance.

“Fiinnnee!” whined Hickory. They stared at each other for a moment. “So, what do we do with our blank canvas now?” It was Ali’s turn to think for a moment.

“Well, how about we get ourselves cleaned up, maybe with separate bubble baths? Then I’m off for the evening so we can just sit and watch movies or read. If you want to that is.” Hickory nodded. She had gone one too many days without bathing and watching movies for hours sounded nice. Ali set Hickory onto her shelf so she could fetch some clean clothes while Ali ran a sink full and a tub full of warm water, placing the necessary precautions and washcloths in place for Hickory. Ali returned after a minute to see Hickory waiting patiently. Though emotions were still raw, the tension from before their canvas was cleaned had dissipated. It would take time, but things were better now. At the very least, they were on the right track – finally. Ali held out her hand and Hickory leapt on, carefully walking along Ali’s arm to her rightful place on Ali’s right shoulder.

Ali grabbed her shower basket and headed into the bathroom, securing the door behind them. Hickory knew they were both still raw. She knew there were still things that may have been left unsaid or untouched, but the subconscious resentment toward Ali and the other humans seemed to have vanished, another shadow leaving to never darken her mind again. Hickory mauled each and everything Ali said as she scrubbed away a week’s worth of grime. After they bathed in silence, they took turns dressing, averting their eyes out of politeness, and headed back to Ali’s room. Something stirred in Hickory. She stood on Ali’s shoulder just as they were about to settle back into Ali’s bed.

“Hey Ali.” Before Ali could turn her head toward her right shoulder, Hickory stood and tugged on Ali’s ear. She winced.

“Ow, what was that for? What did I do?” she asked pointedly. Hickory folded her arms and stared at Ali sassily even though she knew Ali couldn’t quite see her from her perspective.

“That was for picking me up without asking when we first met,” stated Hickory. Ali sighed and shook her head.

“Fine. That’s fair. But that’s the only one you get.”

“Hey Ali.” Ali flinched at the sound of her name and tilted her head to the side. “Come ‘ere.” Ali was suspicious but leaned her head back over to Hickory. This time, however, Hickory rushed forward and planted a quick kiss on Ali’s cheek. It was like having a light feather brush over her cheek. It was soft and so subtle Ali almost didn’t realize it had happened. “That’s for everything you’ve done for me since then.” Ali stood stunned for several moments, absorbing the moment, before sighing.

“Did you just, ‘How to Train Your Dragon,’ me?” she asked. Hickory rolled her eyes and sat down on Ali’s shoulder, gripping her shirt collar firmly.

“Just hush and let’s pick out a movie!”

They spent the rest of the evening in silence as they watched film after film. At some point, Hickory and Ali fell asleep, each lulled by the other’s breathing and unable to keep their weary eyes open. It had been a rough afternoon. It had been a rough week if they were being completely honest. Now their friendship, re-forged, was stronger than ever – and Heaven help anyone who tried to separate them.

[pennys-th0ughts]

Curiosity killed the cat

Rain drops were crashing against the concrete floor harshly, one after another like millions of pieces of shattered diamonds. A stubborn sun didn’t want to hide behind the trees yet and the result was a weak rainbow adorning the sky of Derry that strange afternoon. 

I could see that natural show from down the sewer holes in which I always found myself safer despite my several encounters with humans not always ended up well, at least not for them anyways. 

The blue velvet of the night soon covered the skies and those shy sparkles lit the nocturnal cycle once more. It was time for me to feed and the only moment I could succeed in my hunts was during the darkest hour of the day. I decided to check the house first to see if there was someone inside. I often got to find drunken young people lying on the floor with their minds wandering off elsewhere and that turned out to be a convenient advantage to me. I began to call them “easy preys” although that night there was something in the menu I wasn’t expecting to find. 

The wood boards creaked under my feet and the sound filled the empty spaces with a dying echo. I walked slowly to what it would have been a living room now bathed in shadows and the dim light coming from outside Neibolt Street. I could easily see in the dark because my eyes were highly sensitive and behaved like a cat’s. The moment I stepped in to the lounge a strong scent filled my nostrils, the mixture of roses and citric notes made of it an aroma hard to pass by without being noticed, especially by me. I instantly felt a tingling in my nose that threatened to make me sneeze, I managed to avoid the mess that would surely have caused but I couldn’t help to shake my head and make my jingles to sound. I cursed myself for being so clumsy but fortunately I got no answer coming from the far corner of the room. 

I began getting closer in a stealth mode so this trespasser couldn’t hear me and once I got close enough I noticed it was a female human. She apparently had pass out and was sitting with her head against the wall. I poked her leg several times with the tip of my clawed index finger to reassure her state and when I came with that conclusion I put the claws away and picked her up. 

Going down the hole of the well with a live dam was never as difficult as it was that night. I had to be careful to not to hit her head against the tunnel walls and lift her up when the water of said tunnels was high. To get into my lair was a big dangerous challenge; getting out was an even more dangerous. Underneath Derry there was some kind of a maze, an almost endless labyrinth I got to memorize along the years and my best guess was I got to be the only one in knowing its vast sewer system like any other human. 

The circus wagon I used to shelter in wasn’t big and it didn’t had the comfort a common house could possibly have, it was old and rusty, the wood was moisty and the paint was gone in its totality but despite the way it looked it was still offering me a place to hide. 

It didn’t take too much time for my unexpected guest to gain her conscience back. I was expecting her to react in a very chaotic way but instead she remained seemingly calm, or maybe she was still in shock, I couldn’t really tell because it was the first time for me to have a living human occupying the same space. She fixed her brown eyes with mine and didn’t say a word but I could sense she desperately wanted to tell me lots of things but from her mouth didn’t come any sound. She was still confused so I left her there so she could settle down her thoughts. I bet it would get more interesting later when she realized there was no way out without me. 

– P- please, don’t leave me – I heard her speak in a whisper. 

I froze on the spot not knowing how to react and trying so hard to look confident but her lack of fear took me by surprise. I remained a few minutes standing at the entrance in complete silence, rummaging among the closest feelings that could possibly fit in that situation but unfortunately I couldn’t find any, so I kept on walking and left the small place feeling awkward. As I walked away I started hearing some clumsy footsteps following me, I turned to see and I found myself being chased by this young female from a short distance. Then she suddenly grabbed one of my sleeves to which I reacted with an aggressive hiss while showing a wide line of sharp teeth. 

– I have nowhere else to go – she stuttered shielding herself with her little hands as if that could prevent me from ripping any of her limbs, something I could do in a blink of an eye. 

I looked at her from above judging every single movement and she seemed quite confident on her decision to stay. I nodded in silence and shook my head pointing the pile of old cushions in the corner of the wagon; she complied with my silent order and sat on them. I kept staring at this girl in silence trying to figure her out but her shivers were way too distracting. I opened a chest that had some pieces of clothing and took what seemed to be a blanket, I tossed it to her feet and she wrapped herself with it. 

– ¿What were you doing inside the house? – I asked with a cold tone of voice. 

She explained that she liked to hide from time to time there to get away from people. She liked to be alone and needed a place to smoke without being watched. That Halloween night the streets seemed to be crowded with children asking for candies and teenagers carelessly making pranks to the pedestrians. It was a good opportunity for me to have a midnight snack but for her was something like hell on earth. I was able understand how she was feeling for some reason but I couldn’t quite understand how I was able to do so and that made me chuckle at the irony of it. Crouching close to her but keeping my distance at the same time, I let her talk just because curiosity was keeping me from think straight and also because the female was intriguing. 

A couple hours passed and silence took over the small space of my old wagon. I tilted my head to a side wondering if she would start talking again soon but she didn’t. She finally fell asleep so deeply that didn’t notice when I got out for food. It was late but I still had the chance to fetch something to eat, and I better would, otherwise my mood would get definitely worse.

The hunt was satisfactory and the feast I got in reward totally worth it. My collar and part of my clown outfit ended up soaked in blood and so did half of my face. Before going back to the cistern I looked for some food for my guest, I could bet she would wake up starving. 

As I imagined it, the smell of a warm hamburger and potatoes, as humans called this food, woke her up instantly. I heard her attacking the paper bag with such ferocity that made me grin amused, luckily she won’t be able to see it. I decided to get rid of the blood of my face by cleaning myself under the water coming from a broking pipe that used to fill a small pool in which I would sit for hours sometimes. I wasn’t very fond of water but in the past couple of decades I would find it useful and even relaxing. 

It is said that curiosity killed the cat and I had a very curious one approaching from behind that seemed didn’t mind to get its mittens covered in mud. She kept on coming and coming, and her scent became stronger at each step.

– I wouldn’t come closer if I were you – I warned her not even taking a peek. 

I could tell she stopped right a few feet from me and her courage would have surely pulled her closer but she stood there. I turned around slowly until our eyes met; I got up from my precarious tub and let the excess of water run down my naked body. She stared at me as if she were admiring a strange statue. I didn’t feel shame, modesty or pity about showing myself without any fabric on; the lack of some human emotions granted me a lightweight conscience and no remorse or guilt. 

I moved towards her and bent down a little so our faces were at the same height and then I growled from the depths of my gut. The sound could have made anyone to step back but she barely blinked with her eyes still fixed in mine showing off a determination that was beginning to make me feel uneasy and also making me wonder if I wasn’t scary enough. She ventured a little more and reached for my darkened arm. My first thought was to grab her by the wrist and plunge my sharp teeth in her seemingly soft and tender flesh but something odd restrained me from doing it, instead I let her hand wander a little and I permitted myself to discover something new. 

– Your skin is very soft and… – she hesitated for a second– pale. ¿Have you always been like this? 

Her tiny hand kept on wandering, up and down, like a deadly snake looking for a place to curl up. The warmth radiating from it triggered an awkward sensation inside of me that was hard to hide and also intoxicating, like some sort of poison running through my veins. I closed my eyes for a brief moment to give myself the chance to enjoy such unusual experience, and for the first time, in my entire existence, I was starting to feel insecure about my merciless, cold-blooded nature and what all that meant. As expected I felt threatened about this human and couldn’t help myself to react badly. A loud hiss came out from my mouth followed by two lines of pointy fangs; I slapped her hand away from my chest and ran away to hide inside my wagon. Some minutes after I heard her knocking at my door. 

– Please, let me in – her voice seemed confused and hesitant-. I promise I won’t touch you again if that makes you feel uncomfortable. I- I really didn’t mean to-

Feeling a bit irritated I opened the door and put my hand on her mouth to muffle her whining, she seemed to be okay with it and remained quiet once I let her in. I finish drying my hair and put some clothes on enjoying the sweet taste of silence but then curiosity stung me back again leaving a tickling sensation in the back of my head. 

– You talk too much – I pointed that out with no apparent reason, just to start a new conversation I was trying so hard to avoid. 

She smiled shyly and chuckled as if I had told her some kind of compliment. I tilted my head with one eyebrow raised, not knowing if that behavior was the result of her nerves or just another bold move, so I decided to find out more about the stranger but she beat me to it, again. 

– I'm Jessie… ¿What is your name? – She asked excited but calm. 

I pointed to an old flyer pinned to the wooden wall. The faded colors were still showing my name and what I used to do for living when the circus was the main attraction in Derry. Despite I was very old I could still remember my whole number, the music and all those faces gathered around, waiting for me to start my act. I made a good use of my nature to improve my clown skills just to do my best to survive in a world so different from mine, as any living creature would. I snapped out of it because of the ruling silence stuck between us and decided to be friendlier this time. 

– I'm Pennywise, the dancing clown – I said stepping closer-. You can call me Penny. 

Jessie interlaced her fingers showing excitement to know more about me as I was feeling more willing to discover more about this girl. The more the time passed the more we were feeling comfortable with each other. She seemed like a well-educated young woman and yet it was easy to see that she was emotionally broken. I did a maximum effort to understand her feelings but even for me they were way too tangled, like a ravaged cobweb after a furious storm. In that very moment I began having a bitter emotion inside my chest, as if something was crackling in lots of tiny pieces. Later I would find out that feeling was called sadness and humans tend to feel it quite often. 

I got so distracted with our talk that when I realized it was already too late, Jessie was resting her head on my arm. She had fallen asleep and my first reaction was to move her away but something was preventing me from doing it, instead, I took the chance to take a closer look at her. Jessie’s hair was brown and short but shinny and her skin was as pale as mine. My eyes went down from her delicate profile until they got stuck in her chest. The blouse she was wearing was revealing and her breasts looked soft and firm, there was no sign of any other piece of clothing and the silhouette of her nipples was too obvious. I bit my lower lip feeling tempted to lay my hands on them but something was off. Small droplets of sweat began to pearl my forehead and some kind of fire in my gut was growing exponentially fast. 

Jessie seemed to be sleeping peacefully so I took her head and put it carefully on my legs, and then she hid her face between the folds of my shirt. The tip of my trembling index finger started its way down from her collarbone to her warm breasts. I unbuttoned her blouse and slowly opened it. Her nipples had a striking pink tone, a bigger circle with a darker tone crowned the center beautifully and one of them was adorned with what seemed to be an accessory. I placed my hand on it and it felt smooth but it immediately got stiff when I began playing with it doing small circles. Jessie arched her back and let got a soft moan that made me drool all over her naked breasts. 

Her accelerated breathing was inviting me to go further down and my burning hand couldn’t stop itself from descending more and more. I got rid of the only button her pants had and slipped my fingers under the fabric until I got to that mysterious spot known for being highly sensitive in female humans. Her body responded exactly as I had read in some books; when I got caught by the curiosity of knowing how humans reproduced, and I must admit that their physiology was quite pleasant to observe. That day I decided to put it to the test. 

Jessie turned out to be quite docile while sleeping and that would have made it easier for me but I didn’t mean to enjoy it all by myself, I wanted her to be part of it and for that she would have to be aware of her actions so I woke her up in the only way my wicked mind could have thought of. My long tongue traced the curves of her cheek, her tiny chin and the length of her neck. Jessie opened wide her brown eyes and fixed them with the blue of mine. When she realized her blouse was undone and felt my saliva on her breasts she couldn’t help blushing almost violently. My arousal was already quite notorious and when Jessie noticed it she stood up right away. 

I was still drooling, almost profusely, and the color of my irises had gone from sky blue to amber yellow in just one blink, a clear sign of how disturbed and impatient I was getting. Jessie lowered her eyes straight to my crotch and chuckled playfully knowing how I must have been feeling. I began breathing heavily until I couldn’t hold it much longer and a painful boner revealed under my pants.

– Aww, poor Penny – Jessie said in a slightly mocking tone-. Here, let me give you a hand with that pickle. 

She took her shoes and pants off, got rid of her small black underwear and began crawling seductively towards me like a feline. She unbuttoned my pants and gently pulled my cock out of them which immediately gave me some relief, nevertheless it was still under a lot of pressure. Lucky me Jessie knew how to make me feel less cranky so she decided to play with my sex and the pre cum that has already started to flow out of it. Her mouth was doing wonders and her tongue was causing electric jolts in my lower abdomen. 

Once I had enough of her games, I grabbed her by the neck, turned her around and forced her to lie down. I thought an extra pair of hands would be of great use so I appealed to my arachnid nature and pulled them out of my ribcage in a very messy way. My current prey was willing to give in to me so I would only need one more pair instead of two as I was usually tended to use. 

The sound of my bones breaking and the skin tearing itself apart wasn’t odd to my ears but to most of my victims was something grossly disturbing that forced themselves to freeze on the spot. Jessie showed no disgust and that made me feel reassured. I took both of her hands and put them above her head which left her helpless and at my mercy. With my new pair of hands I grabbed her legs and opened them wide enjoying some of the resistance she was putting to fight me back. 

I got inside of her feeling her inner walls tastefully stretching up to grant me access to her burning core. My thrusts weren’t gentle as my hips swings weren’t slow. I was wildly possessed and I wasn’t measuring the force I was using until Jessie’s louder moans brought me back to earth. I could finally feel I was close to cum so I let the rest of my nature do what was left. From the sides of my sex a couple more appendages came out and wrapped themselves around Jessie’s groins to make sure my seed was completely taken. I came letting out a deep guttural growl that echoed all over the place making the walls vibrate.

Jessie was out of breath and agitated, her legs were shaking and her whole body was covered in sweat. I lie down next to her to catch some air feeling satisfied of what I have just done, like a little boy who gets away with it after doing some mischief.  

@infptarius Enjoy! and sorry for taking so long 🖤

[txladyj-blog]

Chapter 12 - This Time Around

A Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx​

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 19/?

A daily routine had become commonplace for Jess in order to preserve her sanity and to prevent her from overthinking and dwelling on the lives she’d taken, the people she’d lost and the one person she couldn’t help but think of when she was alone. He angered her. Who did he think he was? How dare he still consume her thoughts. Even when he wasn’t in front of her, walking through Alexandria or sat on his front porch where he smoked or watched the world go by with baby Judith, he was still bothering her. Her mind was fraught with mixed emotions. She missed him, she hated him, she cared about him and the thing that irritated her the most, was her constant need to be near him.

She didn’t know if he had any idea who she was but his abrupt and rude treatment of her was telling enough. Even if he had a clue, he couldn’t be sure and to him, she was still the strange, quiet woman in the mask that he had very little trust in. But as with most things, time began to mend the sharp, jagged shards of the relationship between them and after three weeks, they barely uttered a word to one another unless they were forced to work together on something for Deanna. Basic conversation and one-word answers were accepted as the limit of their interaction but the more time Jess spent near him, the more she felt the raging urge to reveal who she really was.

The snappy remarks ceased but the suspicious glares continued and with each time she felt his eyes on her, she felt the rising anxiety in her chest. The same anxiety that she felt back at the quarry, fueled by her intense crush on him. That was something else that angered her; how he’d somehow managed to go to hell and back and come out better looking for it. Jess had lost weight, there was no if’s and but’s about it, but that meant little when all of the same insecurities remained. Hiding behind armor and a mask meant that although it couldn’t be seen, she still felt them like a blade to her skin.

Part of her daily routine was to clear the Walkers from around the town’s walls. Small numbers gathered, attracted to noise from the gate and the houses on the inside. Once she’d done a clean sweep, she’d pick off any animals that could be used for food. Killing Walkers was probably Jess’s forte in life now, born from endless days of working her way through a city looking for food and supplies in order to live another day. She used the wanderers in the streets as daily practice, much like she still did with the Walkers around the walls through a reluctance to become complacent. Ben provided her with her one on one, Walker killing training while the corpses gathered below, waiting for the next noise to follow were where she gained enough skill to deal with more than one at once. She’d made mistakes, almost got herself killed once or twice, dropped her weapons, been bitten and thanked the stars above that she had armor covering her forearm at the time. But through her mistakes she prevailed, improved and learned valuable lessons. The main one being to never become backed into a corner.

She flicked her Machete towards the floor, dispelling the coagulated blood from the blade. It painted a dark, crimson, dotted line in the dust as she walked over it, attaching the weapon to her belt and arming her bow. For the past week, she’d noticed the numbers of squirrels and rabbits declining. Walkers were only able to capture a certain amount due to their lumbering frames and clumsiness and so, the decreasing numbers pointed to one thing; their habitat was changing and they were not breeding as rapidly as before. That morning, she’d only seen one squirrel which had managed to escape as purely a matter of timing, it had seen her before she’d spotted it. She tilted her head back, squinting in the sun as the small animal raced across the branches and she considered that there would be no squirrel stew for at least a week at this rate. Lowering her vision, she froze when a figure emerged from the trees in her path.

Daryl lowered his crossbow, the desire to point sharp weapons or firearms at her now all but a distant memory, although her snarky attitude and standoffish responses to his necessary conversations when they were forced to work together prodded at his temper. She was infuriating, impossible but still fascinating.

She also let her bow drop and her shoulders relaxed. She continued along her path, undeterred by his presence, as she approached him, he backed up and they circled around one another with a split second of eye contact that Jess quickly put a stop to. As he turned and ambled away from her, the image of his angel winged vest consumed her with nostalgia and memories of days spent in the woods, learning from him and admiring his courage and strength. Nights sitting a top of the RV, sharing playful digs at one another and enjoying comfortable silences. Her heart lurched and she grit her teeth under her mask.

Why can’t I hate you?

“You won’t find any animals this close to the walls.” She called out to him. He stopped and she picked up on him nod, almost to himself. As if he was expecting some kind of comment. “If the Walkers don’t get them, I do and their numbers are declining.”

Daryl shifted to face her and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. The muscular terrain of his arm as it held onto the strap sent a wave of annoyance through her.

You’re stronger than this. Stop looking at him like that.

“You hunt” He grunted. An obvious statement. He knew she hunted; he knew she hunted because Deanna asked her to. But he wanted to hear it from her.

“Every morning. I’m not as good as you.” She expressed. “You’re an exceptional tracker. It’s very impressive.”

The compliment had left her lips before she’d had time to register it. Like some kind if default setting that couldn’t be changed. There was no lie in her observations, Daryl was excellent at what he did and as he was an intuitive and effective tracker, Jess’s abilities were in moving, unseen and observing. Having spent so long in the city and sharing it with thousands of Walkers, she’d become adept at slinking through the darkness and becoming nothing but a faint echo. It minimized her need to fight and allowed her to pass by some groups of survivors without them ever knowing she was there. Daryl shifted his weight from one leg to the other, his expression bemused.

“How do you know that?” He asked.

Jess shrugged, outwardly collected but inwardly raging with nerves at such a frank and spontaneous chat. She had not planned this and cursed herself for following her heart and not her head. She fiddled with the arrow in her hand, twirling the thin piece of wood between her fingers and tapping it against her thigh. When she saw his vision drop to her nervous display, she immediately ceased moving and hoped he wouldn’t remember how she used to tap her thigh when she was nervous from before.

“I’ve seen you.”

“Right. Yeah. You see everything, don’t ya?” He commented in a tone laced with disapproval.

“You’re a good tracker. I’m a good ghost.” She reasoned.

He grunted and lifted his other hand which reached up and rubbed at the back of his shoulder. Already in turmoil over what to say or not say next and in the middle of figuring out how she felt about delivering such a sudden compliment to him, she turned, sighed loudly and walked ahead.

“Thanks” He said loudly “For the compliment”

Slowly but surely, Daryl’s guard was diminishing and he was starting to believe that the masked ghost of Alexandria wasn’t actually out to hurt anyone. Logic told him that if her intentions had indeed been of malice, he would have seen some death and destruction by now and all he’d really seen was how hard she worked to maintain her end of the deal she had with Deanna. As he’d stopped making snappy remarks to her, in turn, she’d followed suit, although she was still very much an ice queen. He shook his head and half smiled when he saw her raise a hand as she walked away, gesturing to him that she’d heard him.  

An hour later and Jess’s efforts had turned up two rabbits that wouldn’t go further than feeding one household for lunch. Alexandria had its rations, tins and non-perishables that were reserved and only given out in accordance with strict distribution rules that were made to be fair and just for all. But when the town had enough meat, food went further. Dishes could be made in bulk and collected from the pantry each afternoon and Jess admittedly felt a sense of pride when she was able to bring back something as big as a buck. But it had been a long time since she’d acquired such a prize and now, with Daryl’s hunting expertise, she could only hope that he would have more luck than her. But not too much, she didn't want to be shown up, after all.

After pausing briefly to adjust to the heat, footsteps in the distance rendered her motionless, she strained to hear, turning her ear to the direction the steps echoed from. Then, the sounds of panting and panicked scuffing on the ground. She sprang to her feet, readying her bow and charging through the trees, branches whipped at her legs and torso, the result dulled by her thick, now mainly leather armor. As she drew closer, she could see a Walker staggering around in a clearing, grappling with a live human who was grunting and trying to show it away. Her mouth dropped open inside her mask when it occurred to her that she knew the person.

She raised her bow, lining up the dead man's head as a target and steadied her breathing. It had to be a good shot, not one of her lesser, slightly off target attempts. The man's clothing caught her eye. The same maintenance uniform that Ben had been wearing back at her apartment in the city. But it wasn't the time for reminiscing. She breathed out slowly, releasing the string and hearing the sickening thud of the arrow embedding itself into the side of the Walkers head. It stepped back and dropped, revealing a red-faced and breathless Carl scrambling backwards across the ground and throwing up dead leaves as he moved. Jess slowly approached him, checking on the lifeless Walker crumpled on the floor first. It was a rule of her own, always double check the bodies. She’d learned the hard way while training with her bow that while a shot my seem as though it’s worked, the arrow may not penetrate the softened skull enough to cause trauma to the brain, meaning the Walker still moves and can still get up. She looked down at the terrified boy at her feet and held out her hand.

“What are you doing outside the walls, kid?” She demanded.

“I saw a girl climb over. I was looking for her… to see if she’s OK.” He rambled as he gripped her hand and allowed her to help him to his feet. He dusted off his clothes and Jess plucked a leaf from his sheriff’s hat.

Still wearing daddy’s hat.

“Enid .” She said bluntly.

Carl startled at the sound of the girl’s name.

“Yeah, how do you-?” He started

“-She’s fine. I’ll walk you to the gate.”

Jess was performing one of her earlier clear ups of the area around the walls when she’d first noticed Enid scale the high structure and drop down the other side. It had only been a week since Jess agreed with Deanna to trial an understanding between them and in that week she’d gathered a lot of information about certain people. Enid being one of them. It was obvious the girl was traumatized and trying to work through some heavy issues, much like Jess was when she’d settled in the safety of her city apartment. She understood the need for space and so spent time keeping a watchful eye over the teenager as she found a spot in the woods and settled, needing to just…be.

It wasn’t in Jess’s plan to get caught looking out for Enid, more it was a clumsy accident when she tripped over one of her own snare traps and looked up to find the girl staring at her in horror. Jess shoved away her own embarrassment and cleared her throat.

“I get why you need to be out here sometimes.”

Was all she said and within seconds it was like an unwritten contract that passed between them. Enid could leave the town whenever she wanted and as long as she didn’t take any unnecessary risks or venture too far, Jess would watch over her.  

Carl suddenly stopped, dropping back from Jess who slowly turned her head to see him stood still with his hands in his pockets, his eyes bright and confidently trained on hers.

“You still think Dr Strange can fix all this?”

Jess’s entire body flooded with dread. Shit. He knows.

“I knew it was you on the road. I just didn’t say anything.”

An involuntary whoosh of air left her lungs and she almost buckled over. If Carl had figured it out so soon, then who else was in possession of such knowledge and keeping it to themselves? Was her entire plan blown? Would she have to come clean to everyone? To Daryl? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, composing herself and standing back up straight.

“Who else have you told?” She questioned.

“Nobody.” He replied as he kicked dried leaves around with his sneaker.

“Keep it that way.” She ordered.

Carl surged towards her, his hands now shooting up from his pockets and into the air beside him.

“Why?! They will be so happy to see you!”

Jess flinched away, almost with disgust at a big family reunion where everyone fake smiled and pretended everything was perfect because it wasn’t perfect, it was far from it. No one missed her and she didn’t matter. She knew that much. So, what was the point in any of them knowing?

Then there was Daryl. For old times sake, for all the good times they had, she wanted him to know the truth. But a simple, overheard sentence and a lack of action to defend her reminded her that he didn’t even care about her in the first place, so why would it be any different over a year later?

“No one is happy to see me, Carl. I’ve found a way of surviving that suits me. No ties, no emotional manipulation. Just me. You need to stay out of the woods. It’s not safe. Come on.” She told him, carrying on towards the gate.

“No!” he yelled at her. “You need to tell them! You don’t know what we’ve been through, we need this. This is good news. We need good news. You’re alive. All this time we thought you were dead.” Jess stared at him in shock. Not only was he yelling at her, he was trying to make her believe that any of them cared about her enough to actually be happy she was there. “What about Daryl? He was your friend and I know he’d be happy to see you. He looked for you!”

“You don’t know anything, Carl. Not really.” She mumbled sadly.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Jess. I had to grow up pretty fast. Please, tell them who you are.” He pleaded.

“I’ll think about it. Now move before I have to knock you out and drag you back by your arm.”

Silenced by her stubbornness and flat refusal to follow his request, he stomped along behind her, dragging his feet and looking up at their surroundings every now and then for any sight of the girl he’d followed over the wall.  

“So…Enid…” He mentioned warily, hearing Jess sigh loudly. She wasn’t going to get away with offering no explanation as to how she knew her and could be so certain that she was safe enough.

“She comes out here sometimes. She’s used to being on the outside, sometimes she just needs it to keep her sane. You don’t need to follow her. I keep an eye on her.” She explained.

“You two friends?”

“No. We have this unspoken rule, that’s all.”

“Do you have any friends?” Carl continued.

Jesus, kid. Easy with the questions.

Feeling her temper fray, she told herself that Carl was inquisitive and curious, the world around him had changed at a rapid pace and humanity itself was changing, becoming worse in some areas and there was no doubt he was going to have questions about near enough everything. Right at that moment, his attention was focused solely on the dramatic change in Jess.

“I told you. I don’t have ties to anyone or anything.” She replied.

From her peripheral vision, she saw his curiosity step up to the next level as he sped up and began walking at the same pace to gain a better view of her armor and weapons. It was just Carl, but she was still self-conscious, not that she would ever show it on the outside.

“You got pretty badass.” He commented with a pursed lip and a nod. “That mask is cool. You sound totally different. What is that? Army issue or something? You have a kinda Mad Max thing going on.”

Her head slowly worked to the side and she raised an impressed eyebrow at him.

“Your dad let you watch Mad Max?” She asked.

“No” He grinned.

Jess stopped walking and looked down her nose at him. He could tell she was smiling behind her mask, his own grin staying put.

“That’s cool, I’ll take that. Thanks, Man.” She chuckled, gently punching him playfully on the shoulder. For the first time in a long time, a glimmer of the old Jess worked it’s way through her iron defenses and reveled in a moment of humor and jest with Carl. The connection to who she really was became stronger the more she observed Carl smiling brightly back at her.

“You look different. Good different.” He stated

“What are you, like a teenager now?” She queried as she slowly carried on towards the gate. He took the hint and walked by her side.

“Just turned Thirteen.”

“Thirteen, huh? No wonder you’re chasing girls through the woods.” She quipped.

“It’s-it’s not like that. I-”

“It’s a joke, Carl. Chill your beans.”

*

The rest of the morning heralded hardly any results for Jess as she slogged through the high temperatures, desperately trying to find something else she could present as food. But the area seemed to be stripped bare and she began to convince herself that if the community was to continue to thrive, it needed to widen its geographical hunting area.

As she waited by the gate for the guard to signal down, Daryl emerged from in between two derelict houses with a large deer draped over his shoulders and his crossbow swinging from one of his hands by his side. Sweat covered his arms, chest and face and she figured he’d carried it through the thick heat from some distance away.

By comparison, Jess felt about two inches tall as she waited patiently with her two rabbits hanging on string from her grip. Humiliation flooded through her and she let out a long and seething breath while Daryl stood next to her and squinted at the argument that ensued behind the gate, where man and woman were shamelessly debating who’s turn it was to be on the gate while the two hunters lingered on the other side.

Jess attempted to throw a casual glance Daryl’s way. To be able to see her past the hulking deer across his broad shoulders he had to turn his torso.

“Nice white tail.” She commented in an attempt to brush off her embarrassment at her feeble prize.

“Thanks” He remarked in reply. “Nice cotton tails”

Behind her mask, Jess smiled.

Asshole.

Daryl sucked both lips into his mouth, stifling a smirk and turning his body to face the gate again. As the couple behind the barrier began to escalate their fight, Jess and Daryl stood side by side. The need to explain herself was overwhelming. She presented herself as capable and smart and now, he was going to think that she’d spent all morning hunting and only turned up with two small game. It was true, but she didn’t want him to think that.

“I had a bad morning.” She said quietly.

“OK” he nodded, now failing to hide his smile which Jess had picked up on when from the corner of her eye when he swayed slightly with the deer, revealing a decent view of his face. She heard the gate lock release and strode forwards, slipping through the gap on the way to the pantry and making sure she put a decent distance in between them before she let herself chuckle quietly at the situation.

That’s the last time I compliment his tracking skills.

* *

Deanna’s first house meeting with the new group was organized with the main point on the agenda being to find out how everyone was settling in after almost three weeks in their new homes. She asked for updates with all of their jobs, ideas to improve the town and revised the security detail after Rick pointed out that an unmanned rifle up in the watchtower was going to do diddly squat to deter any potentially hostile groups of survivors.

Jess usually didn’t bother with Deanna’s meetings. Preferring to hang around until they finished and take the chance to catch up with the town’s leader on a one to one basis. A weekly report was all Deanna asked of her. Walker numbers around the community, any sightings of live people they should be concerned about, hunting success or lack thereof. Then, Jess would bid her farewell and go back to her daily routine which, after her morning perimeter walks and hunting was mainly hers to do with as she pleased. Most of her time was spent at her fairground home, which she used as her haven away from the world. She’d worked hard on it and over the weeks it had become more than comfortable, it was cozy and she couldn’t think of a single reason why she would ever want to leave it.

As she hopped up the steps of Deanna’s front porch, she picked fur and dried blood from her gloves, so engrossed in her task that she failed to notice the room full of people she casually walked into when she entered the living room. Her eyes slowly rose from her gloves to the many shoes and boots in front of her. Then, up to the 13 or so strong group that filled the room. The quiet was deafening and if she wasn’t wearing a hood and mask, her alarm would have been all the more evident.

“Ah. Parker! Please come in. We were just discussing how everyone was settling in” Deanna cried enthusiastically. “Won’t you sit?”

“Right. No. I’m good here.” Jess quickly dismissed, backing up to the nearest wall and using it for support.  

“Would you like to tell everyone what your role is here?”

Not really.

“Um… I keep the perimeter clear of Walkers. I don’t live here. I have my own land at a Fairground around ten minutes’ walk from here and you’d all do well to keep your distance. I shoot anyone that steps foot past my fences without permission. There are traps, snares and explosives around my home. So, you stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”

Blank faces peered back at her from around the room, all but Carl who was grinning from ear to ear. Jess avoided his gaze as best she could, knowing that his beaming face would shatter her thin composure. Jess saw Abraham let out a quiet chuckle and shake his head. He leaned over to the woman beside him, Rosita and whispered into her ear. Hardly a lip-reading genius, Jess was still sure she witnessed him say ‘She’s a firecracker.” Rosita who couldn’t have looked more unimpressed shot him a death glare before rolling her eyes.

“That wasn’t quite the explanation I had in mind but, thank you.” Deanna said awkwardly.

At the back of the room, Aaron smirked and Eric nudged him in the ribs. They were used to Jess’s blunt and bossy attitude more than most after having spent more time with her than anyone else. But the fact that she was softer and more relaxed with them behind closed doors was not lost on them. They considered it a privilege, even if she was still a huge mystery to them.  

Almost forgetting the reason she’d turned up at the house in the first place, Jess stepped forwards and summoned up the courage to speak before lifting a hand and making sure her mask was securely in place.

“I have a request.” She announced at Deanna, who nodded graciously and allowed her to continue. “My truck is broken and I need to travel further outside of the safe zone in order to hunt and bring back more food. The numbers of animals around here is dwindling, the Walkers are getting some of them but it seems the others just aren’t breeding. I’d like to suggest the building of pens and cages to house animals that can be bred.”

“That’s a good idea.” Rick added, “We need to think long term. We just need more land.” Carol nodded in agreement from his side on the couch and scribbled something down in a notebook she was holding.

“Deanna, could we maybe move the walls further out somehow?” Aaron offered.

Deanna studied the faces of everyone that had spoken, her mind ticking over so obviously that no one else dared to interrupt. Jess was pleased at the reaction to her idea, initially thinking it would be ignored or brushed to the side like she always used to be. Back before the turn.

“It’s possible. But it will take a lot of work and the risks of the danger outside during the process are great.” Deanna explained.

“We can help. Build temporary pens for now. In fact, I’ll oversee it.” Rick offered.

“Me too.” Abraham agreed.

Jess noticed more and more people nodding, willing to lend a hand. Deanna’s eyes fixed on her.

“Parker, you know the rules-”

“-Oh, don’t give me that, Deanna. I’ll be fine.” Jess scoffed to the surprise of everyone else. Her attitude towards Deanna was always respectful, but bordering on exasperated due to having to follow so many rules and regulations. She admired her as a leader, how she had this grand vision of how she wanted the community to be, how they would become totally self-sustainable and completely protected. It was all castles in the sky to Jess, but she had to give her credit for her dream.

“We do not allow anyone to venture outside of the safe zone surrounding this town on their own. Every time we have in the past, we’ve lost someone.” Deanna reminded her.

“Yeah, well I’m not just ‘anyone’. I lived out there alone for a long time. You can make an exception to this rule.” Jess argued.

Alexandria’s rules grated on Jess at first. She’d refused to give up her bow and Deanna let it slide, reasoning that as she looked after their security, she needed it. But Jess was expected to abide by the geographical boundaries established by Deanna and her late husband. She believed they kept people safe and out of the sights of any dangerous, rival groups. It also meant that deaths by Walkers were kept to a minimum and anyone that wanted to cross the boundaries was required to do so in the company of another person, disclose fully the position on the map they would occupy and a time frame for their trip. Like everyone else, Deanna was tired of losing people and felt each death like it was personal to her. So, the rules were upheld and it was something she was not going to budge on.

“Parker, you are an exception to a lot of our rules, you know that. I allow you to come and go as you please with that bow and that blade and I say nothing. But I can’t sway on this one. You have become too valuable to this community. We can’t lose you.”

Jess huffed and shook her head, painfully away from the room of eyes all pointed at her.

“You can go and I will agree for you to take one of the trucks. But you will take someone else with you.”

“For god sakes.” Jess complained under her breath. “You know I can-”

“-I’ll go.” Daryl interrupted from the window ledge. Until that point, Jess wasn’t even aware he was in the room. He’d said nothing and simply observed as things unfolded around him. Until something piqued his interest.

“Mr. Dixon, that is kind of you.” Deanna smiled.

“Seriously?” Jess sighed. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

“Language, please, Parker.” Deanna scolded.

“I know this terrain. We go out, get some animals. Get it done. Sooner the better, seasons changin’.” Daryl expressed

“Then you have my approval. The two of you can take one of the large trucks from the street. You’ll have to rig it up with straps and cages, or any animals you catch will be battered to death by the time you get back. Take the appropriate weapons from Olivia in the armory and please give me a rough idea of when you intend to return.”

“Jesus” Jess hissed under her breath.

What have I got myself into?!

Daryl got up from the windowsill and caught Rick’s eye. Jess could hear a quiet conversation about what animals they were likely to find and be able to trap and how much space would be needed while everyone else in the room began to converse amongst themselves before gradually filtering out of the room.

Jess found herself stalking across the street, put out by Daryl’s intervention and having to accept that she would be spending at least an entire day with him if not longer. It meant she would not be able to remove her mask or hood for the duration of the trip and conversation would be kept basic.

She recoiled and whirled around when someone tugged at the leather bracer on one of her forearms. Carl was standing before her, his hands up and open, signaling he hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction.

“Sorry” He apologized.

“It’s fine. What do you want?” She snapped. He moved closer to her, taking a brief glimpse over both shoulders to make sure the group were a safe distance away. They were now filtering back towards their homes and duties.

“Why didn’t you tell them? That was the perfect opportunity.” He wanted to know.

Frustration welled in her chest and for a moment she turned her body away, needed to compose herself so she didn’t explode at the kid in the middle of the street. The sun beat down on his tatty sheriffs’ hat and his big eyes pleaded with her. It was tempting and that was what was starting to get to her.

“I never agreed to tell them in the first place. Let it go, Carl.” She retorted, stepping away from him. He moved to the side, blocking her path and challenging her, she blinked at him in disbelief.

“At least tell Daryl when you go to get the animals. You’ll be alone with him. It’s perfect.”

Jess leaned down to him, inches from his face and jabbed a finger at his chest.

“No, Carl.” She growled.

Carl, undeterred by her resistance and even more determined than ever, noticed Daryl approach from behind her and deliberately raised his voice.

“Just tell Daryl!” He cried.

“Tell me what?” Daryl’s voice from behind her almost pushed her off the edge. Now clinging to the last threads of her temper, she grit her teeth and stepped back with both of them in her view.

“Uh…That you’re gonna have to keep up so I can keep an eye on you.” She lied.

Daryl looked confused for a moment as a memory hit him out of the blue. He was in the woods with Jess, back at the Quarry, teaching her how to survive. He’d used the exact same phrase. He shook his head, trying to shake away the longing he still felt for her sometimes. Longing for a conversation with her again, for her understanding of who he was, for her tuneful giggle at his attempt at humor. He hated thinking about her now, it only brought sadness and regret. He wished he didn’t think about her at all. But he did. Every single day.

“Ain't no danger of that.” He corrected, pushing away his thoughts of before. “Deanna gave me this.” He held up a map. “Should talk about where we’re gonna hit.”

Carl nudged Jess in the arm and shot her wink before he walked away. Daryl caught the small gesture but paid it no mind, It had come to his attention that she was more willing to talk to everyone else than she was to him. Abraham seemed to happily receive any humorous remarks she made, Carl apparently had some kind of private joke with her, Aaron and Eric’s house was where she slept some nights and Deanna was the only one that could order her around and get away with it.

“OK. Fine. I’ll meet you on your front porch in ten minutes.” She told him. She hadn’t even realized that her legs were already taking her in the opposite direction. A subconscious reaction that meant she needed to put some distance in between them even just for a few minutes before she had to resume the pretense that she didn’t know him from Adam and that she wasn’t altogether maddened by his volunteering to be a part of her mission. If she was honest with herself, the flicker of excitement in the pit of her stomach refused to simmer down and she knew she would be forced to sit with the conflict through the entire trip.

 - - - - - - - - 

Daryl spent more time on the front porch than inside the house and he spent more time outside in the woods than inside with the community. Always an outcast wherever he was. He frequently sought solace in being alone, something he’d been more than comfortable with since he was a child.

Some nights consisted of carving bolts and sharpening his hunting knives, readying himself for the next hunt. Others were less intentional and a pack of smokes and a shallow tumbler of hard liquor was the only thing he had to occupy himself. In the early evenings, he’d sit with Judith on his lap and read to her. A past time he’d grown fond of and didn’t expect to enjoy as much as he did. Try as he might, he couldn’t understand why Judith appeared to fall into a fascinated silence as soon as he opened the book, but it was the one part of the day that Carol, Carl and Rick got to pass her onto her ‘Uncle Daryl’ and wait until she fell asleep.

He scoffed at the title when Carol first coined it. He never gave a thought to being an uncle at any point in his life, figuring that Merle was more likely to conceive a life sentence over a child. But his close friendship with Rick led to him gaining a new brother and in turn, a family he was ferociously protective over.

Upon leaving Carl and Parker in the street, he settled in his usual seat on the porch and smoked a cigarette while he waited. Through the gaps in the houses opposite he could see her, the flash of the machete blade shining in the sun's rays as she paced slowly back and forth. Her hand jabbed at her thigh as she wandered, an obvious stress reaction. Her head was low, her face obscured as always. He had so many questions. Some, he may never ask. The main one playing on his mind as he watched her ritualistic pacing; why are you so nervous?

When she arrived, Jess raised a hand in greeting to Daryl as she climbed the steps and pulled out the chair across the table from him, placing her bow against the house beside her. She settled down and got to the task in hand by scanning the map that was open on the table between them. Her eyes threatened to lift to his face more than once, but she resisted, knowing that their icy blueness would only scatter her thoughts and risk exposure.

“Said you know the terrain.” She mentioned. “How well?”

“Pretty well.” He replied, leaning forward in his seat and placing a finger on a dark area of the map. Dense woodland surrounded by fields. “Right here is the best chance we got. These patches of land are farms. We should check ‘em for chickens, goats and sheep.”

“Been a while since the turn, chances of them being alive are slim.” Jess considered.

“Never know. Some of ‘em mighta got out, be runnin’ around in the woods. Only problem is, there’s small towns on either side. The people, they probably ran outta the towns-”

“-Thinking they’d be safer in the woods. Meaning Walkers followed them.”

she concluded.

“Exactly. Gonna have to be smart ‘bout this.”

“Tomorrow morning? Sunrise?” She proposed boldly as she rose from her seat and collected her bow. He nodded and ficked a hand carelessly in the direction of the gate.

“Meet ya outside.”

Deciding not to say anything else or bid him a polite farewell, she quickly left the porch and set off for the gate, needing to get back to her own personal space and think about what the next day might bring.

- - - - - 

Furniture that Aaron helped scavenge, rugs, an actual bed with a fur blanket and certain working machines in her diner of a settlement made the whole place more a home and less of a temporary shelter. Candles in holders screwed to the walls were her source of just enough light not to draw attention through the boards on the windows from the outside.

She pulled her hood and mask off and lay on her front on the bed. Reaching under the pillow, she retrieved her journal, which she had not used since arriving in the city all alone. Aside from not feeling the need to write and having the luxury of telling Ben everything, she felt that the book itself had done nothing but cause her pain. It was a black and white piece of evidence that testified to how she really felt. All her innermost demons, insecurities and fears. She did still fear. But rather than fearing the dead, or the evil that humans could do, the thing she feared most was herself. She knew who she really was, but she had lost so much of it over the last year she wondered if it would disappear altogether. She opened the cover to find one of the pens Daryl had found for her and twisted it around in her fingers before setting it to the paper and beginning to write.

Being in such close proximity to him without him knowing it’s me is so strange. It’s terrifying me. I feel a need to watch over him. I still care about him and I hate myself for it, because I meant nothing to him. I guess that’s always been a flaw of mine. Caring about people that wouldn’t lend me a dime. He infuriates me. I get so angry when I’m around him but when I’m not, it’s like I need to see him. I’m drawn to him. I don’t know why.

Maybe I should just tell him. Just try. Maybe things will have changed. We’ve both changed after all.  I just can't risk getting hurt again. I can't take it.

She slammed the journal shut and heaved herself up from the bed, crossing the room and catching sight of herself in a full-length mirror on the wall. She was a lot thinner, having lost over half of what she weighed when she reached the city. At first, she didn’t even notice it dropping off. But then her pants were too big and she found she could train for longer and longer. First, it was through lack of food but then though exercise and months of rigorous training while she molded herself into a survivor and shed her identity. She knew she looked totally different, the only thing remaining the same being her eyes and facial features. Even her voice was different with her mask on. On the outside, it looks like she had washed off every ounce of her individuality and became nothing but a shadow. A shadow with only one name.

- - - - - 

The next morning brought with it more blazing sunshine and suffocating hot temperatures. The drive was long and quiet with only a few words exchanged. Jess felt more emotionally vulnerable than ever, finding herself constantly looking at Daryl as he drove. Half way through the journey, she slid some sunglasses on in the hope that it would hide her obsession with him and avoid any awkward questions.

He didn’t look any different. The same leather vest, ripped jeans and laces tied around his ankles. That same, red bandana he always had in his back pocket. The same gruff and indifferent attitude. All the same things about him she liked before. She still liked them now.

Upon arrival at the first farm, Jess couldn’t believe her eyes when she entered the barn, bow poised and expecting a huge shed full of Walkers or people waiting to take her down. But instead, she found four sheep and a pen full of chickens. They were skinny, malnourished and in need of medical attention but she couldn’t help but laugh from the doorway, unable to believe her luck. It was looking like her long and awkward trip with Daryl would be cut short sooner rather than later.

Daryl appeared at her side, also lowering his crossbow when he realized there was no threat.

“Well this was easy.” He commented.

“I was thinking the exact same thing. How the hell did they survive in here for so long?”

Daryl’s eyes scanned the inside of the barn, stopping on the large, metal tanks mounted on the walls in the pens.

“Those” He said, pointing to them. “Fill ‘em with animal feed, set a timer to go off each day. Got a drip feed ya aint gotta touch ‘til it runs out. They got their water tanks too.”

“For all that time? Since the turn?” She asked.

“Naw. There are a couple bodies in the house. Look like they only been dead a month or so. Don’t think these guys were actually alone for that long.” He expressed.

The two bodies in the house were without a doubt the owners of the property, both heads blown off and both sets of hands clutching family photographs taken outside the very barn that Jess and Daryl stood in.

“Good, it means we can fix them up and hopefully they’ll breed.” She said as she wandered inside and started unravelling a length of rope from a hook on the wall.

“I’mma go hunt, see if I can take somethin’ decent back.”

Far from wanting to argue, Jess figured she would just have to move the animals alone and hook them up inside the truck herself. The sheep would be easy enough, the chickens were going to be the main problem. But asking for his help was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Be back in two hours, I wanna get these animals to Alexandria as soon as possible.”

“Alright.” He grunted, disappearing from sight.

It took Jess almost the full two hours just to chase the chickens around the pen alone. With one particularly spritely hen causing absolute chaos when she refused to let Jess grab a hold of her. She cawed and screamed as loud as her lungs would let her and when Jess finally managed to capture her by throwing her jacket over her, she considered wringing her neck.

“Your name is Sarah. You hear me?” She spat as she carried the troublesome chicken to the truck and tossed it inside.

She slammed the door and leaned her back against the cool metal, catching her breath and letting the breeze blow through her hood. It was times like this when her clothing and survival wear proved to be impractical. But it was rare and not enough to make her want to wander around in a sleeveless vest like Daryl.

Her eyes moved over to the farmhouse, the door still swinging open from where Daryl had scoped it out upon their arrival. She straightened up and headed inside to search for anything else useful.

- - - - - 

It was another half an hour before Daryl returned with a sash full of squirrels and two rabbits hanging from his belt. Not huge kills by any stretch of the imagination, but meat none the less and Jess figured Alexandria would be OK for a while at least. His timekeeping left a little something to be desired.

“You’re late.” She complained.

“Yes I am.” He proclaimed to the rolling eyes of the masked woman sat in the driver’s seat. She’d decided that she was the one that was going to drive them home and he was not about to argue.

Half an hour into the journey and Daryl had taken a ten-minute power nap followed by lighting a cigarette and winding the window down. Jess was surprised he’d even had the courtesy to do that, seeing as he’d thrown the dead animals he’d hunted into the footwell and left them there. They were beginning to smell and Jess wrinkled her nose under her mask.

“You have a group, before this?” She heard him ask through the noise of the trees that darted past beyond the open window. She hadn’t, for one second anticipated that he might ask about her past and panic began to thunder through her. Her mind raced and she knew she had to calm down and proceed with extreme caution.

“Yes.” She replied.

“They gone?”

“I don’t know.”

“You lost anybody?” His question was louder after the window was rolled back up and it struck Jess as an odd topic of conversation. She figured he might be testing her, to see how much she would disclose. Everyone had lost someone in some way or another, it seemed like an obvious question to ask. But Jess knew Daryl and if he wanted to know something, it sometimes took him a while to actually say it.

He’s curious about me.

“My family. You?”

He nodded and nibbled on his lower lip. She remembered how he did it a lot at the quarry when he was trying to express himself and was finding it difficult to get the words out.

I know you, Dixon.

“My brother...” He mumbled.

Jess’s heart sank. Merle. Maybe he didn’t find him after he left the city. She hoped that he was alive and that Daryl just wasn’t aware of it. She hoped he was with some other group, annoying the hell out of them and offending all of their women.

“...Couple friends n’ a girl I used to know from the first camp we were in.”

Jess was biting her tongue. It was all she could do to stop herself from bursting into tears. Her stomach was churning and she felt nauseous. On the outside, she battled to keep her face straight and her eyes fixed on the road but the truth was, a herd of elephants could have charged at the truck and she wouldn’t have noticed.

He’s talking about me.

She sucked in a quiet breath, filling her lungs and trying to clear her head so she could find the strength to reply.

“A girl, huh?” Her voice sounded slightly shakier than she’d intended, but Daryl didn’t seem to notice.

“Not like that. She was a friend.” He grumbled.

“Oh.” Jess responded as unphased as possible. “I’m sorry.”

Half of her meant it, she really was sorry. Sorry for leaving like she did with no goodbye. But the other half was lying, she wasn’t sorry at all after what she’d heard and all the times she was left to deal with the aftermath of being belittled and humiliated by herself. Daryl said nothing else for the rest of the drive and dutifully helped Jess unload the animals from the truck upon their arrival back at Alexandria. The makeshift pens were just about finished after Abraham, Glenn and Rick worked on them all day. Children poured out of their houses wanting to see the new additions and Jess stood by the open door of the truck and watched the scene. She hadn’t seen so many people smile in a very, very long time.

- - - - - 

That night, after dinner and a shower at Aaron’s place, Jess hooked her bow over her head and headed for Deanna’s place to drop the trucks keys off. As she passed Daryl sitting on the porch with Judith, she doubled back, changing her mind and striding over to the truck. She unlocked it, delved behind the front seat and retrieved what she was looking for.

The dim glow of the porch light above them cast an angelic halo around Judith’s bright, golden hair and the soft, raspy tone of Daryl’s voice lured her closer still when she stopped on the path. She knew the story, a dog was the protagonist and Daryl was adding parts to the story that were not printed in the book. She smiled at the thought of him reading Children’s stories, Dixon style to the amazed child sitting on his lap. He still hadn’t seen her, nor did Judith know she was there and she realized she was once again torn and battling an internal war, she didn’t know if she was doing the right thing. Seconds from turning on her heels and fleeing into the night, Daryl looked up and clocked her presence.

“You need somethin’?”  

“Uh, no” She stammered.

This is a dumb idea. Turn around, you idiot.

“When you were hunting today, I checked the farmhouse for anything useful. I found this. Thought she could use it. I had the same one when I was a kid.”

She brought her hand around her body where she'd been hiding a children’s book behind her back. She slowly took the steps and held it out to him, horrified when at first he just stared at it, then back up at her until he finally took it from her grasp. Judith squealed and sprayed her tiny fingers out, pulling the book towards her and playing with the thick pages.

Daryl looked completely and undoubtedly confused. He shifted Judith on his lap and narrowed his eyes at Jess. Feeling as though her cover was being majorly blown by her gesture and that such a thing would never be done by a masked assassin who lived in the woods and was capable of murdering a compound full of people at Terminus, she frantically thought of a way to throw him off.

“Is she yours?” She asked.

“Naw. She’s Ricks.” He replied in his gravelly tone.

“You read to her some nights.” She mentioned.

“Yeah. She likes this book about the dog. It’s her favorite.”

Judith was now happily pawing at her new book but Daryl’s attention hadn’t left Jess, who was now struggling not to tap at her leg.

“She seems to like you.” She pointed out.

Daryl finally looked down at Judith, who raised her head and flashed him a wide, toothless smile.

“She’s a good kid.” He mumbled.

As he said the words, Judith snuggled against his chest and Jess almost collapsed at the adorable sight. This man was not the kind of man she would have expected to be so good with a child. She always knew he had a sensitive side and that he had a hidden, selfless trait that was as strong as it was admirable. But seeing him with a happy little girl, reading her stories and making a regular thing of it to boot, simply astounded Jess. He may have broken her heart, but deep down, she knew he was the best kind of person.

“I’ll leave you alone.” She whispered.

She turned and adjusted her bow as she began to cross the grass.

“Parker.” She heard from behind her. She halted, her body humming with anticipation. She was no psychic but her gut was telling her he was about to say something significant. She looked over her shoulder.

“You remind me of somebody.” He told her.

It was on the tip of her tongue.

It’s me, Jess.

“Is that a compliment?” She asked instead.

“Yeah, it is. And thanks.” He held the book up with one of Judith’s hands still clutching the edges of the pages. Jess gave him a polite nod and resumed walking, getting faster and faster until she reached Deanna’s, dropped the key into the mailbox and ran for the gate.

- - - - - 

Maybe I was wrong about him. He’s not a bad person. Maybe he just said a bad thing. Maybe he just didn’t know how to defend me, or if he even should have done. I don’t know. I want to believe these things are true and the man I saw today is the real Daryl. But I can’t forget. I can’t forget what I heard. All the times I was alone and I needed him.

I don’t need anyone now. But I do want some closure. I owe it to myself to find out the truth, to find out his side of the story. So, one way or another, I can move on. I have to tell him who I really am.

NEXT CHAPTER

--- tagging as requested ---

@lilred254​

[saltandburn-ilovesamwinchester]

Have A Drink On Me

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warning: Slow burn .. 18+

Standing in the mirror, you looked closely at yourself. Your addiction to body piercings growing throughout your years now made you self conscious, especially living with the Winchesters. They were perfect. It took everything you had not to find your own place when they would bring their dates back to the bunker, mostly Dean. Your crush on him was enormous and imaginary. There was no way a guy like him could like a clumsy mess of a person like yourself.

The mirror on the dresser made you want to throw it across the room. Until there was a knock. "Come in," you answered and rolled your eyes at your reflection, hiding the worry on your face.

You were thankful to see the kind smile in Sam's eyes when he walked in. Completely opposite of Dean. "Just wanted to say that Dean and I wanted you to know we were going out later,and we wanted you to come with. Ya know.. if you didn't have plans."

Sam was the sweet one. He respected your privacy and needs to wonder without having two bodyguards leaning over your shoulder all the time.

Just when you thought you were totally a lost cause.

Dean, on the other hand, when the three of you would end up at the bunker he would always find a way to disappear from any room you were in. He either had weapons to clean, go on beer runs, or he would fiddle with the car until you found something else to do. Were you really that pathetic?

"That's nice, Sam, but I don't know if I'm up for an adventure tonight," you declined softly and gave him your best fake smile. "I'm not really feeling it."

He looked like he wanted to question you but decided against it. Sam knew if you wanted to talk you would. "Oh, okay," he cast his eyes down his narrow body to his feet and huffed. "We leave at eight if you change your mind." With a single smile your way, he turned and shut the heavy door, leaving you with your thoughts again.

...

Dean's P.O.V.

By lunch the three of your were starving and everyone had different ideas for a meal. "Hey Y/N, I bet you haven't had Dean's sandwiches yet," Sam winked at you from across the table. "They're the best." Dean turned to his little brother with wide eyes.

What the hell is he doing, Dean thought to himself. Sam knew for a while that his brother had a crush on the girl that was two years younger than his baby brother. Every once in a while Sam would catch him staring at her while she would research the things they needed for a hunt. Her tiny hands running across the keyboard. Or Dean would stare in awe as she took on the largest of creatures that go bump in the night. Dean knew things could go bad if he ever went there with her. How could he ever come close to hurting you like that?

I would always find ways to keep myself busy. Just long enough to keep my mind off Y/N. Running through the garage, playing with weapons, and above all avoiding eye contact. Staying away from her but wanting to stay beside her was like fighting a war between my head and heart. I always wanted her, but I knew my consequences if something bad ever happened.

"Mmm..no. I don't think I have," Y/N's beautiful smile spread in my direction. Her smile, Jesus Christ, her smile! If I could keep that smile on her face all day, I would. Then the way her eyebrow piercing would bounce when she laughed or the one on her tongue would sneak past her lips when she would wet them.

"Well, prepare to be amazed," my laugh came out short and fast and I took off to the kitchen. I had to get out of there before little Dean got fired up and my stomach knotted when I heard her feet shuffling behind me.

"Jus' wanted to watch the master chef himself," she smiled at me, her eyes wide and shining. Man I could take her right here if she were willing. Why the hell would she want this, though? Y/N didn't belong in this world. She belonged in a fairytale, with her prince charming, where they ride off into the sunset. Even if I could make her happy, how long would it last?

Well, if this is my shot, I'm shooting it. I grabbed her hands the way I always wanted to and spun her until she was by the refrigerator. "Help me get the stuff out, sweetheart," I grinned and watched her search for everything she wanted on her sandwich.

Y/N had her hands full with stuff and just as she handed me the sliced cheese, it slipped from our hands. We both bent down for it and my hands crossed her small fingers, and I pulled away. I took the rest of the ingredients and worked fast, trying to busy myself from her watching beside me. "And here you go," I happily set the neat sandwich down on her plate, the crust cut off like she requested. If only she would request me to do other things for her..

She licked her lips again before sinking her teeth into the fresh bread. Watching her face light up was pure sweetness. Oh, dear God, I want to be that sandwich. I want to have those little bite marks all over me. My mind was screaming with the urge to ask her out right then. What would she think? Would she laugh? Would she say yes? "Okay, I'm going to make Sam's and let you finish that," I trailed off as my geek brother walked through the kitchen doorway.

He looked at me with those puppy dog eyes, asking if I asked Y/N to go with us yet. "No you," I mouthed back at him." The panic had formed into beads of sweat, luckily only I knew about.

Y/N was completely oblivious to our conversation and Sam put his hands up in surrender and shook his head, "She already told me no."

"Deannn.." Y/N moaned as she took the last bite of her sandwich and the sound didn't go unnoticed by the boys. She was still slumping over the counter top, sandwich in one hand and chip in the other, and her eyes rolled in the back of her head. "That was amazing," she sang lovingly.

Dean closed his mouth that had fallen slack. Did she just make that sound for him? I need to leave right now, he thought to himself then scolded after looking at Sammy with red cheeks. "Hey, are you going out with us tonight," I spoke in a rush. Never had I been so nervous around a girl before. Maybe because she wasn't a girl. Y/N was a woman.

...

Reader P.O.V.

Throughout the day you flip flopped the idea of Sam and Dean's offer in your head. Why in the hell were they so caught up on you leaving the bunker tonight? And what got into you today at lunch? Following Dean's path like a puppy, praising his name over a damn sandwich?

You tucked away all the embarrassing moments and sat up from your place in bed. "Okay," you sighed to yourself and put down the TV remote. "If you are going to do anything, you have to do something with yourself first."

The water and steam in the shower relaxed your muscles a little. You watched the bubbles form on your skin from the body wash and the soft, pink loofah while the sweet smell of the shampoo soaked through your locks of hair. Then, Dean's name appeared in your cloudy brain. Not here. Not now. You cringed at the thought of him seeing you like this and started to scrub that thought out of your head like the bubbles on your body.

When your shower was completely over and you stepped out into the open cool air of the bathroom, you found yourself looking in the mirror again. Your eyes wandered from every hole that had been made by a needle in a piercing shop. One night wouldn't hurt anyone. Would it? You went to work, removing the stud earrings, the tongue piercing, all of it.

Your hair and makeup do over came to an end and you glanced at your straight hair and even eyeliner, proud that your features came together for one night. The red dress that had been a gift from Donna and Jody as a birthday present sat in back of the closet for the longest time. Now, the tight fabric clung to all the right places and the black lace up heels complemented your red toes. It's now or never, you thought and walked out of the comfort of your room.

...

Sam's P.O.V.

"Where is she? Y/N should be here by now," Dean fidgeted in his seat in the library chair. Having to admit that his brother's nervousness about seeing the woman of his dreams all dressed up and the possibility of her liking him too gave Sam the little hope he always held onto. "Do I look okay, Sammy? Too much?"

Sam smiled and laughed at his older brother. All his life he had looked up to Dean. When it was Sam that was nervous about a girl, he didn't talk to his father about it, he went to Dean. Now, seeing him like this, it was Sam's turn for the pep talk. "You look fine, just chill dude. She'll be down in a minute."

"What if I can't do it? What it I look crazy or some lunatic comes up to her before I get a chance to," his brother was panting now and Sam could tell he was about to back out of going. Oh HELL no. He will not ruin this for him nor her.

"Dean, it's okay. You really don't know how much she's into you, do you?" Sam's calm voice flowed through Dean's ears.

Dean looked at his younger brother as if he had two heads. "What are you talking about," his voice went high for a moment and it made Sam giggle.

"Oh, you are hopeless," Sam sighed and played with his thumbs, enjoying this very much. "Buddy, my room is closer to hers and I promise you these walls may hold a very strong power to protect us, but these walls are also very thin," Sam grinned and bit into his lip, wondering if telling Dean this was a good idea.

He watched as his brother's emotions unfolded in the small leather chair. "What? What the FUCK, Sam? Why didn't you tell me this sooner," Dean's out burst made Sam's head fall back with laughter.

Before Sam could say another word Y/N's heels let them know she was getting closer.

...

Reader's P.O.V.

You padded down the bunker's hallway, until you reached the opening of the library. Before stepping into site, you could hear Sam's laughter booming over something Dean had said. These boys, you smiled to yourself.

Your heels clicked a few more strides before stopping in front of the wide table where they sat. "Y/N, you look amazing," Sam smiled and stood from his comfortable chair. Dean had been fiddling with the collar of his shirt but made a double take at you and your new dress. His eyes traveling from your lace ups to your eyes, taking in as much as possible.

"Whoa," he smiled that handsome smile and stepped closer to you. His hand reached out to grab yours and he kissed the top it. You smiled and felt your cheeks turn crimson because his eyes never left yours.

The two of you were so caught up in each other, you forgot Sam was watching the whole thing. "Are you two finished now," he poked fun at his brother and winked at you. "Because if I'm going anywhere, I'm leaving now."

Dean waved him off and turned to your side, holding out his elbow for you. You questioned him silently but took his arm and when Sam was farther away he leaned into you, "Y/N, you look beautiful tonight," his green eyes shined and so did his smile. The two of you had reached the car where his younger brother was and Dean held open the door for you.

When everyone was comfortable the Impala pulled away from the bunker and the night began. "Two more minutes and we should be there," Sam announced from his place in the passenger seat. You looked up from your phone and you met Dean's stare. How long had he been watching you? You licked your lips for show and rubbed your knees together, never taking your eyes off his.

You forced yourself from looking at him and you sat up straighter to see the parking lot of the bar you had just pulled into. Dean was the first out the car and quick to open the door for you. You smiled at his thoughtfulness and took his hand to help you out. "Have a drink, on me. Please," Dean found himself looking at your lips the whole time he ask.

Smiling your best ten of ten smile, the kind that reached your eyes, you nodded and followed him to the bar door.

...

Some how, somewhere this felt right. It sure felt right an hour later when the two of you escaped back to the bunker and into your room. You never would have thought that Dean could have been into you. But now, balls deep inside of you and the bruised and wet skin, gave you the satisfaction of your earlier thoughts.

"So good," you moaned against his lips when he thrust harder into you. Your nails clawed into his back, taking in every inch of him. The bed moving with every stroke turned you on even more. "Dean..." you threw your head back as he found that perfect spot between your neck and shoulder and bit down, coming hard.

Dean brushed his nose against yours, still holding himself above you, "Mine." Your heavy panting and heartbeat slowed when the words left his lips. Your hands still holding his above your head. "Yours," you smiled and kissed him, his tongue fighting yours and he bucked into you again, making you whimper.

.

♤♡◇♧

Hahaaa... so sorry for the wait, yall. But the suffering is over. I hope you enjoyed it! All mistakes are mine. Please tell me what you think. Feel free to comment and share! ❤💋

@waywardbaby @imperiusimpala @leatherandapplepies @idreamofplaid @plaid-lover-bay25 @waywardnerd67 @maddiepants @sammyimpala-67 @oldfreakything @idabbleincrazy @the-magic-rabbit-99 @tumbler-tidbits @shatteredabby @destielhoneybee @cosicas-cuquis @heycasbutt @flamencodiva @coffee-obsessed-writer

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[thelastranger]

Tales to Tell in the Storm pt 2.

Lydia is in the Skandian underworld and two gods are arguing over what is going to happen to her. It's her choice- but should she choose rest or should she choose revenge against the Sharks? 

Lydia is the last of the Herons to hold out against the Sharks and their cowardly ambush. She's at her peak, slinging darts and holding her own. The Sharks, lead by Tursgurd, the coward, killed everyone else before advancing for Lydia. Lydia had never hated anyone more than Tursgurd than in that moment. She would do anything for revenge. Her family was murdered and by an old childhood bully who couldn’t let past slights go. Lydia is smart and takes down as many as she can, but Pedra gets a lucky shot in and she goes down. Lydia wakes up in a strange place, grey and misty. It smells vaguely like the ocean and she swears she can see a bright mead hall in the distance. She starts walking and sees two figures arguing. A man and a woman, both clad in black.

Lydia draws closer to the pair and they spare her one glance before continuing their argument. The man was clad in typical hunter's garb, not unlike what Lydia was wearing herself. His dark hair was tied back and he seemed to melt into the shadows around him.

"She'll go with me, Hulde. There's no question about that." Hulde, that name rang a bell for Lydia, but she couldn't place it.

"She's in my realm with no charm. Unless you want to try to claim her and test me," The woman, Hulde apparently, sounded calm but there was an undercurrent of sharpness in her voice. “We both know you cannot beat me Ullr.” 

The woman turned to face Lydia and Lydia almost took a step back. Half of the woman’s face was pale  and the other half of her face was a mottled black and blue. Recognition flashed on Lydia’s face. She had heard of a woman associated with death and remembered Edvin telling her how he wore a charm to protect against Hulde, the goddess of death. She also recognized the name Ullr. It was the name Thorn always muttered when he killed a deer and it was the name that the women in the market always thanked when Lydia came back with meat. He was the Skandian god of hunters. Wait, if Ullr and Hulde, the goddess of death, were here with Lydia, did that mean...

Hulde seemed to know what Lydia was thinking and smiled, cold yet comforting. “Yes, Lydia. You are dead.” If Lydia hadn’t known deep down, she would have been shocked. Hulde continued as Ullr glared at her.

“Tursgurd and his sharks killed you, the last Heron,” The mention of the Herons hurt Lydia. Their deaths were too soon. “Normally, since you died in battle with a weapon in hand, you would join my  glorious mead hall and see your friends again.” There was silence for a minute.

“But I’m not Skandian,” protested Lydia. “I don’t even believe in you.”

Ullr and Hulde exchanged amused glances. “It’s not a matter of you believing in us, it’s a matter of us believing in you.” said Ullr, like to a child.

“You risked your life to save Skandia many times over. You have shed blood for Skandia and helped bring back our most important treasure. You are the best Skandia has to offer, we have always kept an eye on you, and yet you were cut down at your peak.” Hulde’s face grew dark, shadows in her eyes. “In normal circumstances, you would join my hall and live the rest of eternity in here with the dead, but Ullr stepped in.”

Lydia felt a glimmer of hope. “You’re going to let me live again?” Maybe she could get her revenge on the Sharks then.

A hearty chuckle escaped Ullr’s lips.

“No child,” said Hulde. “Ullr wants you to be one of his hunters.” Lydia was not expecting that.

“You’ll spend eternity with me, hunting animals in forests and monsters in other realms. You would be invincible.”

A scowl darkened Lydia’s face. “There’s only one monster I want to hunt. After that, I want to rest.” All she really wanted was to forget her pain, to feel happy again.

Ullr leaned forward eagerly. He loved any type of hunt and revenge, especially the way Lydia would enact it, was one big hunt. “I can arrange that. It won’t be easy for you but it will be the most satisfying thing you’ll ever do. And then you can continue to hunt the Sharks again and again for eternity. Your skills are unrivaled, you would become a legend.” Right now, hunting the Sharks sounded like it would make her happy. She would get revenge for her brothers in arms.

Hulde protested. “You do not have the power to do that Ullr! But if the girl wants to hunt her prey and make her decision after that, I have no objection. I know your ways Ullr and I know Lydia all too well.”

Ullr grinned, a grin that promised blood revenge, and the thrill of the hunt. “Deal.”

Instantly, Lydia was transported back into the forest near Hallasholm. She flexed her hands, getting a feel for them again. Her atlatl, well worn and loved, was at her side again. It had been smashed in the fight against the Sharks, but it seemed that Hulde or Ullr, she didn't care who, had restored it.

The air was filled with more sounds and scents than Lydia had ever experienced and she took it all in, realizing that this is how she would feel the rest of the days hunting with Ullr and his hunters.

The Sharks were easy to track down, drunk with overconfidence from their false victory and drunk in bars. Lydia relished the fright in their eyes as they saw the ghost of the last Heron approach to take her revenge. Pedra, Knut, all of them fell until Tursgurd was left. Lydia showed no mercy to the murderers of the Herons. She didn’t kill them, but she put fear in their bones and left them to face justice, a slow death.

Out of all the Sharks, Tursgurd had the sense to leave Skandia and keep a low profile. He was no match for Lydia however. She found him in a tiny, trashy bar bragging about his accomplishments to a band of pirates. It figures that Tursgurd would keep company with criminals. Lydia smiled to herself as she thought about how her mission would finally be complete and the Herons would be avenged. Hal, Stig, Thorn, Edvin, Stefan, Jesper, Ulf and Wulf, and sweet Ingvar. The other punishments were out of Lydia’s hands, but Tursgurd’s was going to personal. Lydia would show him no mercy.

Lydia didn’t want anyone to see her so she waited until Tursgurd was alone. As she crouched on the roof in the shadows above the bar, her normally focused mind wandered. The stars reminded her of Edvin. One night while they were on watch together, Edvin had showed Lydia all the Skandian constellations and which ones were used for navigation. In turn, Lydia had told Edvin of the Limmet stories about the stars. Edvin had always been so curious and willing to learn, it made Lydia’s heart hurt whenever she thought about him.

All of the Herons held a special place in Lydia’s heart. How could they not? They had saved her life in so many ways countless times. They had embraced her and given her a new family. Hal had given her purpose, Thorn had given her a reason to keep her wits about her, and Ingvar had given her a reason to keep hope alive.

Movement below stirred Lydia from her thoughts. Tursgurd was on the move. A deadly smile spread across Lydia’s face. It was time for the hunt. She wasn’t used to hunting in a city, but Lydia would do her best.

Tursgurd staggered through the streets, pausing only to stumble into an alley. Lydia ran across the rooftops of the dingy town, barely making a sound. Her padded soles fit perfectly to the nooks and crannies; everyone of her senses was fired up. The perfect hunter hunting the perfect prey.

Vomited splashed onto the stone street and Lydia felt a flicker of disgust run through her. It had been so long since she had felt anything since accepting Ullr’s offer. The brief sentimental thought here and there, but hunting down the Sharks left no space in her mind for memories.

Lydia pushed herself off of the roof and landed silently behind Tursgurd who was crouching on his knees. As she raised her atlatl, the ghost of Ingvar flashed in front of her eyes. The shock was enough to make Lydia take a step back. Tursgurd was still puking his guts out. If Lydia could have felt anything, it would have been some perverse form of pity for Tursgurd. The way he was drinking and the company he was keeping, he wouldn’t last long. Good, thought Lydia viciously. The rest of the Herons appeared in her vision, silent and judging only for a moment before disappearing. She knew what she had to do.

Shaking her head, Lydia took a step forward and stopped. What was she doing? Suddenly Lydia tired, more tired than she had ever been in her life. She could feel it in her bones. She was tired of the endless hunt and she was tired of revenge. Revenge felt good at first, Lydia could never deny that, but it took its toll. Lydia hadn’t felt anything for ages and she had become what she hated in life- someone who abused their power. Someone like Tursgurd.

Tursgurd still hadn’t noticed Lydia, not that she had expected him to. She let out a dark chuckle, which made Tursgurd whirl around.

“Who's there?" demand Tursgurd roughly. Lydia stepped forward, keeping in the shadows. It was time. Time for the Herons to be avenged.

Tursgurd was still wildly looking around. As Lydia stepped silently into the weak light, Tursgurd scrambled back.

“No! No, you’re- you’re dead.” The fear in Tursgurd eyes would have been more satisfying if it wasn’t overwhelmed by a drunken glaze.

“Herons always come back, Tursgurd. Didn’t you know?” Lydia leaned forward ever so slightly, half her face covered by black and blue shadows. “I will always haunt you. The Herons will always haunt you. Sharks can’t swim backwards, but you will never escape the past.”

Tursgurd had an angry look in his eyes and tried to land a clumsy, weak punch on Lydia. She easily side stepped him and pushed him to the ground. He landed with a hard crack and stayed there, cowering. Tursgurd had never been superstitious, but the ghost of the girl he had killed was in front of him and one could not deny what is in front of their eyes. Lydia stalked over to him silently, a hunter over her prey.

“I’m not going to kill you Tursgurd. You’re doing a fine enough job of that on your own. I’m here to let you know that I could kill you, but I won’t. A mercy you didn’t give us.” Tursgurd started to protest, but Lydia was in no mood to hear it. She used her atlatl like a club and Tursgurd was out cold. Someone would find him in the morning and drag him out. Hopefully he would remember the night. If not, she had a feeling that Tursgurd would never have a good night’s rest again. Ullr had a strange sense of humor and liked to play with his prey. Lydia felt it was unprofessional, but in this case, she didn’t care.

Suddenly, Lydia felt overwhelmingly exhausted. She was done with her final hunt. It hadn’t helped her like she thought it would. The only thing that had made her feel better was the sense of approval she felt when she let Tursgurd go. It was a very Hal thing of her to do. It was almost like he was watching her.

The shadows thickened around Lydia and in an instant, she was transported back to Hulde’s realm.

Only Hulde was standing in the shadows. Ullr was nowhere in sight.

“Have you made your choice Lydia?” asked Hulde, like she already knew the answer. Lydia did know her answer. She supposed that she had always known her answer deep down. Rage couldn’t fill her and it wouldn’t bring her family back. Lydia made her choice.

Lydia nodded and Hulde stepped forward to guide Lydia forward.

“Come, child. Your friends are waiting for you.”

Hulde and Lydia started walking towards the mead hall glowing in the distance. They walked in silence until they approached the doors. At the closed doors, strong and imposing, Lydia looked up at Hulde.

“Was I-” Lydia trailed off. She didn’t want to know the answer. Hulde knew what Lydia was trying to say.

“You weren’t the only one who had a challenge. You were the only one who Ullr chose. Your friends had,” Hulde paused here. “Your friends had other things to do.”

Lydia could feel the sense of belonging deep in her bones, but she was hesitant. 

Hulde’s tone was gentle. “Go, your family is waiting.” At this Hulde disappeared, leaving Lydia alone. Thoughts were swirling in Lydia’s head and all she could think about was how this was what felt right, despite her disbelief.

So Lydia turned and pushed open the doors, walking into the hall, ready to see her family again.

[incandescent-creativity]

WHG: Michael (Days 1-3)

The Story So Far: 

Backstories | The Reaping | The Train Ride | The Chariots | Training | The Interview | 

Michael can’t help but feel trapped in the glass tubes. They’re barely big enough for one person, and the air is stale inside, and while it looks like he should be able to walk right out, the walls (and the Peacekeepers watching him) say otherwise.

All of this makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is how he feels more trapped once the tubes take him up.

The sixty seconds they are afforded don’t do much for planning. There are pits in front of him, and Michael can see four distinct areas--a forest, a dry mountain, a valley, and a snowy mountain. And in the middle of it all, the glimmering Cornucopia.

Food, weapons, supplies, and more spill out of its mouth. And while that stuff is, admittedly, tempting, Michael has never felt comfortable with the Bloodbath. Anything could and does happen. And in the Games, the best strategy is to avoid the unexpected as much as possible.

Unfortunately, it looks like he’ll have to skirt around the Cornucopia--and the fighting around it--in order to get to the forest.

The gong sounds, and Michael is running.

Everyone else is running, too. Even the adult woman--the one with the bun--she’s one of two people who sprint for it and then duck into the Cornucopia itself. 

In fact, a majority of the tributes seem to be running towards it or directly away from it. Except for the boy Michael suddenly realizes he’s about to crash into. He tries to turn, but there’s no time, and then they’re on the ground.

Michael ends up on top of the tussle, and there’s only enough time to recognize him--Wick, District Four, glaring at me--before making the snap decision.

Literally. He reaches down as Wick reaches up, and manages to snap his neck around before anything can happen to him.

Deciding not to think about it too much, Michael shoves the body away and runs towards the forest with the sound of the canon ringing in his ears.

- - -

Michael refuses to succumb to his own mind so early in the Games, and turns to organization to keep his thoughts and nerves from wandering.

There isn’t much to organize. He didn’t manage to grab anything from the Cornucopia, so he starts walking through the forest in search of supplies for tonight. He has no idea how cold it will be, and a fire will either ward off the shyer tributes or let him see the bolder ones coming towards him.

Either way, it’s a good idea, so he gathers as much as he can.

Night falls surprisingly quickly, but that’s okay. He doesn’t have a base camp set up to get back to, so all he does is get his fire going underneath the biggest tree around.

That tree serves him well, and he climbs it to sleep once his fire dies down.

[ WHG Day One Post ] 

Wick belongs to @inkpot-dreamer !

/ / / Day Two / / / 

Michael’s first morning in the arena is unsurprisingly terrible.

Every muscle in his back is sore, including some muscles he didn’t know he had. He is covered in bark, leaves, and sap, and has to brush three too many bugs off of his limbs. And he’s hungry.

Not to mention that climbing down is a much harder chore than climbing up. By the time his feet are on the ground again, he is just irritable enough that hunting some tributes doesn’t feel out of the question.

But he can’t even do that. In retrospect, he should have looked for signs of life while he was up in the tree. Looking for them when he’s down on the ground is nearly impossible. 

In fact, when he stumbles upon a shack set up between two trees, he’s more surprised than the girl sitting in front of it. She stands up and gets ready for a fight much faster than he does, not bothering to hide the scars on her arms or the dangerous suspicion in her eyes.

“Who are you? What do you want?” she demands.

“Does it matter?” he asks, falling to his knees in front of her--and in front of her blade. “I’m offering you a free opportunity to better your standings.”

“What are you talking about?”

He can tell she understands, but he’s past dignity now. He was never going to win the Games anyway, and if he’s going to die, it might as well be early. “Kill me,” he begs.

She steps forward, and his last thought is, Sorry, Doctor.

But there’s no pain, and no darkness. Instead, his weight digs into his knees, and his stomach continues to rumble.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he asks desperately. “Kill me!”

“No,” she refuses. 

He stares at her for a moment before testing her resolve and standing up. She takes that step back again, but keeps staring at him. “Why not?” Michael challenges her.

The girl glances up at the sky, then at the trees. “Not a good show,” she dismisses him. “Now get out of here. It’s getting dark, and this is my camp.”

Heaving a sigh, Michael does as she says.

[ WHG Day Two Post ]

Maya, the girl in question, belongs to @pied-piper-of-hamlet !

/ / / Day Three / / / 

The tree he sleeps in turns out to be above a bunch of berry bushes that he didn’t see in the night, so Michael’s third morning is marginally improved by getting some food into his system.

Reinvigorated, he decides to try again. Trying to avoid the unexpected is a good strategy in the Games, but so is being proactive. Just because he didn’t succeed at any hunting yesterday, doesn’t mean he won’t succeed today. Right?

Hoping his Doctor is watching, Michael heads deeper into the arena.

When he finds his second camp in two days, he knows he’s on to something. Perhaps he’s lucky, perhaps the forest is the most popular place to camp, or perhaps it’s something else.

Whatever it is, it helps him find a knife before he hears the sound. 

It’s a clumsy sound, like something being shoved aside or fallen on, and it pushes him to follow it. Michael attempts to stay as stealthy as he can, but after walking for minutes on end, he has to adjust to the idea that he might have fallen for a distraction.

Being duped doesn’t bother him at first, but by the time the sun starts to set, Michael can’t help but feel he wasted his one chance. 

Until he hears the crackle of a fire and the sounds of sizzling, and he knows another chance has been given to him. Peering around the tree, he sees a boy sitting at a fire roasting some sort of animal.

Without hesitation, Michael winds up and throws his knife directly into his chest.

Is it a good show yet?

[ WHG Day Three Post ]

Liam (RIP) belongs to @inexorableblob !

BIG THANK YOU to @ratracechronicler for hosting this!

[alittletournesol]

Kingdom Of Jinju {MinKey} part 21/33

Chapter 21 : If you love him

Minho had put his royal attire on as he left his quarters, leaving his husband still lazily lying, naked on his bed. Offering a last smile to the other man, who had his face turned towards him and his hair falling from the mattress like an ebony waterfall, he closed the huge door and found himself alone in the east wing’s corridor. This part of the castle was always so quiet, compared to every other one that was constantly filled with tons of lively sounds thanks to the employees getting themselves busy. 

The King stretched his back before he walked away, adjusting his collar and running a hand through his brown bangs. It was the first time he was wandering in his palace with his hair free, for Kibum had played with it before his leaving. It was falling on his red and golden coat but the Prince had gathered a few strands into a well proportionate bun, high behind his head. Even if his thick front bangs were also free, this so simple hairstyle was embellished with a new kind of crown : a perfectly cut diadem only made of a pure gold band, that was encircling the sovereign’s forehead. 

Somehow, a piece of jewellery that wanted itself so delicate and feminine in a first place, found itself particularly masculine, even virile, around Minho’s head. The latter had got quite surprise when he had seen his husband stand up and rummage in the dressing table’s drawers until he had found this. Reluctant at first, the King had ended up admitting it was suiting him more than he could have imagined. It was all proudly that he entered the main wing of the palace, where more than half of the employees was busy preparing the dining room for breakfast.

The young man bowed his head to every single person who interrupted their respective work to properly salute him, and he smiled at the two house girls who bumped into each other when they both noticed him instead of looking where they were going. As he approached them to make sure they were fine, he recognised Yerim, for this young woman was quite clumsy despite her willing. He had seen the face of the second girl before for sure, but he didn’t know her name.

“Good morning, Yerim.” He said with a soft smile, what made both employees blush as they hadn’t expected to be addressed by the King. “Will there be one day without anyone telling you to be careful ? You are going to get hurt, why are you both in such a hurry ?”

“We are sorry, your Highness, we ran late this morning.” The girl replied, forgetting about the etiquette and staring at her sovereign straight in the eyes. “We were about to bring her breakfast to the Queen.”

“Oh, then it is understandable. Please go, do not make her wait for too long. As for you, my dear…?”

“Park Sooyoung, your Highness.” The second employee answered, bowing at the same time with a surprising grace despite her tall stature.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sooyoung. Would you please let Yerim do this task alone and do something for me ?”

“Your wish is my command, your Highness.”

“Perfect. His Grace is in my quarters at the moment, I summoned him for help earlier and he immediately answered the call, but he must still be over there. Thus, he did not have time to take his morning bath and I do not want him to rush things to be on time for breakfast. Would you please do me a favour and get his bath ready in his own quarters, along with his breakfast ? Then please knock at my door to inform him about it.”

“Bath, breakfast, door. I will do it.”

“Very well, thank you. You may go, just, have you seen the General around ?”

“Yes, your Highness.” Yerim stepped forwards. “He was awake before us and we saw him come back from the village a while ago. He was heading to the yard alone.”

Raising an eyebrow, Minho nodded and thanked the house girls before dismissing them. He couldn’t help but smile when he noticed the shortest one nudging her friend as to congratulate her for talking to the King for the first time. For sure, Yerim had talked to her sovereign a lot, never long conversations but a few apologies and words every time she had been told to be careful, asked if she had hurt herself when stumbling or falling on her knees. She had stopped counting the times she had embarrassingly let him help her to stand up and give her the fallen laundry.

Shaking his head, the King grabbed a pear in the fruits’ basket that was resting on the dining room, and headed outside while biting it. The sweet taste invaded his mouth and it felt so refreshing he felt the need to go back and grab a second one, just out of gluttony. Once he felt content, he walked in the gardens while eating until he reached the yard, and was surprised to not hear any training. No swords hitting each other, no panting breaths from soldiers nor loud commands from the General.

However, the sharp noise of an arrow piercing through the air until it reached its target was beyond recognisable. Minho found himself frowning and raising his hand to his chest, as he slightly rubbed his pectoral above his coat, the space where he had been shot a few weeks before. Even though it wasn’t painful anymore and his veins had come back to normal… he was suddenly hit by the words he had heard from his mother earlier. The spy’s corpse…

Looking up, the King’s eyes had changed : all their softness had made space to determination. He wouldn’t admit it out loud because of his pride, but the Queen had got it right. He hadn’t really thought about that spy despite having been aware that he had been killed and brought to the dungeons to have his body examined. If he was an assassin sent by someone of power, he should present a mark. However, it wasn’t the kind of proof to be found easily, although it was a known fact that a higher authority would mark their spies like oxen.

Minho found it stupid, for the purpose of a spy was to be discreet and not identifiable, but he had thought it was for the best to keep this thought to himself. As he entered the yard, he found Jinki standing at the other end of the space, wearing only his shoes, trousers and baldric, and a quiver’s strap crossing his bare muscular chest. He was stretching a bow without trembling, staring at the target and taking his time to acknowledge the cool breeze before shooting. His arrow didn’t reach the exact center of the circle, yet it was extremely close.

“It’s been a long time since I last saw you practice archery.” The King said, walking towards his friend. “The employees said you were up early.”

“I had some things to tend to.” The soldier replied as he took Minho’s forearm with his hand, the latter doing the same as a fraternally way to salute each other. “And the hunting season is about to begin so I must get back in shape.”

“Do you feel unsure about your precision ? You’re the best archer in Jinju, game fears your only steps.”

“I was the best archer, until you married the God of Hunt himself.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re jealous ? Come on hyung, when did my General start growing irritated from not being the best in something ? It’s not like archery is your master skill.”

“I’m not jealous, not at all. But if he decides to accompany us, I don’t want to make an idiot of myself. It’s been ages since I last practiced, I lost my touch.”

“Well you have a whole month to find it again, the first hunt of the year will start after the next moon. This means you can stop for now and come with me somewhere I need you.”

Jinki raised an eyebrow and stopped his movement as he was drawing his bow again, looking up. But at that moment, it was the King who was requesting his presence somewhere, not his childhood friend. Nodding, he didn’t waste any more time and went to remove every arrow that was stuck in the target, before he store the unused ones and the quiver. After he splashed his face with fresh water and put his shirt and coat of mail on, he notified Minho to lead the way and gave the arrows to the sentry, asking him to bring them to the blacksmith to sharpen them again.

As he followed his sovereign around the palace, the General listened to him telling about what he had in mind. And it hit the soldier just as much, for himself hadn’t really found the time either to think about the spy he had himself killed. He had been so busy travelling to find this flower, then looking after Minho and training his soldiers, accompanying the Prince… he had completely forgotten about his own command to bring the corpse to the dungeons for an examination. 

A lump grew in his throat as he remembered how guilty he had felt when he had had no choice but to strike the man with his sword. He had said it, it would have been him or the spy, and he couldn’t die and leave the King without his General and friend. It was one of his duties to stay alive, a responsibility for the sake of the kingdom. However, although he had killed before and as soon as he had seen life leave the stranger’s eyes, he had understood his mistake : an enemy spy could still be useful if captured ; a dead spy was worth nothing.

“Don’t blame yourself, he was a danger.” Minho replied after listening to his friend’s apology. “He almost killed me and you were about to be stabbed, I would rather have thousands of spies dead and useless than you murdered for me.”

“Still, it would have been easier to question him.” Jinki sighed as he opened the dungeons’ door to let his sovereign enter first. “What could we learn from a corpse ?”

“Maybe an appartenance or a hint about it. Father once told me that our physician knew exactly how to examine a corpse to find hidden marks.”

“Let’s hope he’ll do better with an already dead body than he did with yours. He could have let you die if I hadn’t imposed Jonghyun’s presence.”

“He’s quite old, let’s put it down to that. Wait, do you call Sir Jonghyun by name now ?”

“I guess we overstepped my past resentment. I had no choice since you made me meet him so often at school.”

“You’re so bad at lying, hyung. Just admit you befriended him thanks to me, I know he’s a nice person.”

Minho laughed heartily but thankfully didn’t notice the red tint on his friend’s face, for the dungeons were quite dark despite the few small windows on top of the walls. They walked by the few prisoners who looked up, some of them willing to stand up to show their bitterness towards the crowned guy. But the General’s stare and his hand on his pommel were enough to reduce them to silence and force them to sit still. After all, these ones had been imprisoned since before the young King’s coronation.

In no time, they reached a closed room with the royal physician waiting for them in front of the door, and Jinki handed a handkerchief to his friend to protect his nose. If there was a corpse resting in there for weeks, the smell wouldn’t be pleasant. The three men covered half of their face before they entered an extremely small room, the only furnitures being a wooden plank on trestles and a pedestal table with some tools resting on it. Lying on the makeshift table, the spy’s body had turned white, a pallid and waxy white if it wasn’t for the open wound on his abdomen that was dark red, even brown. 

As expected, the smell was strong and Minho had to catch a grip on himself before approaching. The corpse had been meticulously cleaned and the King noticed a few marks, yet they were way too obvious to be representative of a potential higher authority that would have commanded his assassination. There were countless small cut scars and something that was extremely common among bandits, assassins and other miscreants : symbols inked under the skin. However, although they showed an appartenance to a gang of rascals, there was only one kingdom that used this same method to mark their spies.

“Baemyeong ?” Minho asked the physician, who shook his head.

“No, your Highness, Lady Taeyeon did not lie.” The old man replied. “I examined the body in minute detail and I can affirm you the following things. There is no trace of ink inside any of his ears’ cartilage, so Baemyeong has nothing to do with this scheme. I did not find any scar shaped as a small hook, which means Pugye is in the clear as well.”

“This leaves us with Maguk and Dongjeo…” The General commented.

“I was coming to them, Sir. I examined his teeth and they are all clean, not a single one has been encrusted with a jewel.”

“A jewel in a teeth ?” The King raised his eyebrows. “It is the first time I hear about such a thing.”

“It is the trademark of Maguk, your Highness. The second kingdom is innocent too. As for Dongjeo, I did not find a single brand on the entire corpse.”

“A brand ?”

“Yes, your Highness, Dongjeo did not change their ancestral way to mark their spies and still brands them. It is nothing but a little burn somewhere on a body, generally well hidden but I know where to look and there is nothing like this.”

“This sounds barbaric… But what does it mean ? If this spy does not show any mark, how can we know where he comes from, who sent him to assassinate me ?”

“Unfortunately, I am unable to prove any appartenance. This means he might not be a spy for someone as high as a kingdom’s ruler, or perhaps he did it on his own initiative which I highly doubt.”

Minho nodded but disappointment was clearly noticeable on his features, along with a strange fear. He wasn’t stupid, if he had been told about any kingdom’s mark on this cunt’s body, he would have immediately taken things in hand by travelling over there to have a talk… but with a pretty nice army having his back. However, he was completely lost in this trap he had just fallen in : the spy couldn’t have tried to kill him only on a personal purpose, it had all been way too premeditated. 

The choice of poison to kill a man was often attributed to women, for it was a subtle way despite a still lethal nature. The more he thought about it, the more the King understood the real conspirator had tried to put the blame on someone else. The black kiss’ poison could be found only in Baemyeong, a kingdom ruled by a woman… yet, Minho didn’t think Lady Taeyeon had been personally chosen as the one who would be accused and potentially convicted. It had certainly been pure chance.

The schemer had been smart enough to organise the assassination with details that would make Baemyeong’s rulers become first suspects. However, the Lady had been smarter by reacting fast to prove her innocence, and the King knew he could trust her and her kingdom : he now had a recognised proof to do so, and it felt relieving. But this relief was short-lived, as everything remained a mystery.

With a last glance at the corpse, Minho commanded to bring an unused bath tub and to fill it with salt. He had studied the different ways to preserve a dead body, certainly the most strange thing to learn as a future king, but it was eventually useful so he didn’t complain. He was more surprised that no one has thought about it before, and let the spy decompose in a closed room. Yet they might still need to inspect the dead man again, it was pure eventuality.

“Hyung, where did he shoot from ?” The King asked as he headed outside the dungeons with his friend.

“I saw him from the outer wall, he was literally crouching on top of it.” The soldier replied, walking by his side. “I still don’t know how we missed him, we were certainly too focused on the crowd in the yard.”

“Don’t blame yourself, what’s done is done. And you ran after him, right ?”

“Yes, and it was like… how to say it, he was running in the town as if he knew every single street by heart. I don’t want to get carried away but perhaps it’s someone from Jinju, and that could explain the absence of mark. Why would your own spies plot against you ?”

“Why wouldn’t they ? This said, it can also be a spy who lived there under cover for a moment before executing his plan. But no one told me about a newcomer when I visited my people… they would have told me.”

“For sure, you would have known it if someone had installed themselves in your town.”

“We can’t know more for now, I will think harder about how we can confound the culprit… For now, let’s live like we always do, alright ?”

“I can do that. I will go back to practice and I guess I should test our soldiers with their archery skills as well… how many hunters do you plan to need ?”

“A dozen, not more. And what about Taemin ?”

“He’s progressing a lot, his reflexes are quite good and he’s strong-willed. When I can’t train him because I’m busy, I ask him to practice his sequences and some soldiers report to me about it. He’s good. He will be a very skilled soldier, Minho.”

The King smiled and nodded before he kindly pressed his friend’s shoulder and let him go back to his duties. Even though he wasn’t that close to his husband’s companion, he had seen determination in his eyes since the very first day, and it was something he liked. His candidness was so paradoxal with his wish to become a soldier that it was quite amusing, but he had also progressed about it, considerably. What made Minho even happier about this young boy was the way Jinki had taken him under his wing.

The General could have treated him like every other soldier he had to train, and actually that was what he had done at the beginning to avoid any form of favouritism. However, Lee Taemin had something no one else had, and his mentor had noticed it. All of his recruits are skilled, of course, after all they were trained by the most qualified soldier in all the kingdom, if not in all realms combined. But that young boy… he was something else, there was something in his movements and displacements that was very unique.

Minho was curious about him, and he thought he might propose him to duel someday. Or at least, to take part in one of his trainings. He was so lost in his thoughts that he noticed he had reached the east wing of his palace without even realising how fast he had walked. He was about to open his door when he remembered that the Prince must have gone back to his own quarters by now… The King decided he had nothing to do in his bedroom and headed to his husband’s, gently knocking and opening the door when he heard the other man ask who it was.

As he entered the room, Minho smiled when his eyes met Kibum’s, the latter relishing his bath and eating black grape at the same time. After he carefully closed the door, the youngest approached the bath tub and grabbed a stool to bring it behind the naked silhouette. Without wasting time, he removed his coat and sat on the furniture, rolling his shirt’s sleeves up to prevent them from getting wet.

“What are you doing, my King ?” The Prince asked even though he didn’t make a single move to stop his husband.

“Returning a favour, my Prince.” The other man replied as he put his manly hands on the thin shoulders. “May I ?”

“Sure…”

Kibum smiled and used his free hand to catch his long hair and clear his back, before he slightly leaned on to give more access to the King’s desire. He closed his eyes when he felt the latter plunge his hands in the still warm water, only to pour some on his naked skin. Soon, he felt his shoulders being gently squeezed and he couldn’t help but laugh a bit, for it tickled at first. Minho smiled at the beautiful sound and his wish to do better invaded him, just like every time.

With care, he remembered the way he had been told and showed about how to use his thumbs for a good massage, and put theory into practice. Slowly, he pushed against his husband’s muscles and drew circles on them without loosening the pressure. He once again had no idea about the quality of what he was doing, but he perfectly knew what would give him a hint… and it didn’t last long. Kibum started purring and bent his knees to lean on more and rest his head on them.

The King looked at his profile and felt his heart miss a beat because of the beauty he had under his eyes. The Prince’s features always succeeded in surprising him, as if he grew more beautiful day by day when he actually remained the same man. Was it how it felt to fall in love ? If so, Minho found himself praying he would never stop falling.

“Where did you find such magic hands…?” The Prince eventually asked, his voice low and a smile on his pretty lips. 

“I think I learned from the best.” Minho answered, slightly laughing as he kept his magic hands busy on his husband’s back. “Am I doing well ?”

“Of course you are. But I can sense I’m far from being the tensed one in this room.”

Opening his eyes, Kibum stared at the King and slowly straightened up, grabbing a bunch of grapes and holding it above his face to carefully pull one hanging small fruit with his lips. He then moved in his bath to kneel, facing the other man and approaching him enough to touch his mouth with the grape. In no time, Minho had opened his own lips and caught the little juicy sphere, stealing his husband a kiss at the same time. With a smile, the Prince withdrew and sat on his heels, water surrounding him until his chest.

“Tell me what’s troubling you, my King.” He said, eating a grape by himself. “You were going to meet the General, did it not come as intended ?”

“I’m afraid not.” The other man sighed. “We went to the dungeons, to listen to the physician’s report about the spy who tried to kill me. I should have done it way sooner.”

“Well, it’s better late than never, at least now it’s done. And if I guess right, this man is a complete stranger.”

“He is, not a single mark on his body nor any hint on his clothes and weapons. I will have to find another way to know who commanded this attack but I have no clue. According to Jinki, he must have studied the town because he knew how to leave him behind. But my people would have told me if there had been someone new in town lately…”

“Well, maybe it’s not a detail they think about when they see you once in a while, they rather ask you about things. Maybe you should investigate for real next time you visit them ?”

“Do you think so ? It could a good idea… but Jinki is quite busy these days, he won’t be able to follow.”

“My King, can you remind me where you were when I came back from Maguk ? Hm ? Last I noticed, the General was with me at that moment and it didn’t prevent you to dive into danger.”

Saying this, Kibum pretended to raise his hand and hit Minho, who laughed and made a move to defend himself. That was true, he hadn’t bothered waiting for his friend and protector’s return to sneak out… he could do it a second time.

“It might sound foolish but… you’re safer among your people than here, if this spy wasn’t working alone.” The Prince commented as he turned over to grab his towel and stood up, draping himself without any prudishness in front of his husband. “Because no one recognises you over there, I still can’t believe it but you really go unnoticed once you’re wearing common clothes and have your face dirty.”

“You’re right, even a spy wouldn’t expect to see me outside the palace, dressed like a man from the people.” The King answered, standing up as well to offer his hand to the other man and help him leaving the tub. “I will follow your advice, as I often do. I should do it quickly, today would be good.”

“May I come with you ? I… I have to meet Jonghyun to tell him something really important and I think… I think it would be useful for you to hear it as well.”

“It sounds serious, is it ?”

“I would say quite serious. I will just dry myself a bit and see you at the stables ? Can you have clothes prepared for me ?”

“I can, take your time.”

With these words, Minho returned the smile his husband was offering him and he leaned on just a bit to kiss him. It was becoming a pleasant thing to do here and then, when no one was looking, just a short kiss that said enough. And at that moment, he relished the taste of grape on Kibum’s lips, while his still had the remaining taste of the pears he had eaten earlier that morning. It was a sweet combination of flavours they struggled to leave behind as they separated, to better reunite later. 

Jonghyun was walking between the classroom’s table, glancing at each student’s paper but refraining from leaning too much on… so the kid he was holding on his hip wouldn’t fall nor feel sick. It had been a first time in his young teacher life, a five years old girl coming to school accompanied by her two years old brother because her mother was too sick at home to take care about him. What was even more surprising was that it wasn’t the mother who had sent her youngest child to him, but her eldest who had quite imposed it.

Both to her mom and her teacher. At first, the blonde man had stood gaping, not sure if he could take care of such a young child while teaching. But the puppy eyes he had received from the lovely Naeun had had too much power on his poor soul. What he hadn’t expected however had been for this young boy to be extremely clingy and to feel so comfortable with a stranger like him. Women, men, now very young children ? Sometimes he hated to be charming.

“Taeho, you are not supposed to copy what Sua writes.” He suddenly scolded, yet still as gentle as usual. “Come on, you can do it on your own because you are…?”

“I am smart ?” The boy answered, tilting his head to the side.

“Exactly. So if I see you head turned towards Sua again, I will hit it with the baby. Understood ?”

“Yes !”

The scolded student couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of being hit with a baby, but he obeyed and worked on his own, what warmed Jonghyun’s heart. All children were doing great progress and could almost read without any difficulty compared to their first lessons together. Despite their young age, they were eager to learn and so hard working that the teacher often had to tell them to slow down and allow themselves to rest, taking them outside. 

He was thinking more and more about trying to dispense some lessons on the meadow, because he had noticed day by day how some kids were being distracted by the beautiful weather. And if he had the pleasure to welcome Naeun’s little brother again, maybe the baby would play by himself and not trap him all day long by asking for his arms. That was an idea to think about.

But at the moment, time was running and it was already the end of that day’s class. Jonghyun congratulated all students for their hard work and allowed them to pack their things, warmly watching them do so while chatting with each other. He then opened the classroom’s door and gave them his usual instructions to make sure they would return safely, even asking the eldest children to take the youngest home. And curiously, they really love having this kind of responsibilities and the teacher was always smiling as he watched them taking the little ones by their hand and leading them.

When almost every child had left the school, he noticed the two men standing near the meadow and recognised them easily. He smiled at them and made a hand gesture to allow them to approach, as he put the baby down to let him leave with his sister. However, what he hadn’t planned was for the boy to start whining and grab his pants tightly, refusing to let go and raising his little arms to ask to be carried again. Jonghyun felt his cheeks heating since he was quite observed by the King and the Prince at that moment, but also by Naeun who wasn’t smiling anymore as she knew about her brother’s tantrums.

“Hey, little boy.” The teacher ended up crouching. “School is over for today, and you’re already quite early here. You have to go back to mommy now, alright ? And you can come back tomorrow with your sister. What about i— alright, alright, I’m holding you, don’t cry, don’t cry.”

Minho and Kibum couldn’t help but laugh a bit as the baby started whining even louder at the teacher’s words, and the latter stood up by taking him in his arms… what made the boy stop immediately. But the young girl standing next to all those tall men was growing worried.

“Teacher, what do I do ?” She asked with her little voice, shyer than usual.

“I will take you home, alright ?” Jonghyun gently said. “Can you just wait a bit ? I think these gentlemen want to tell me something.”

“Can I do my homework in the classroom then ?”

“Of course ! That’s a brilliant idea. And I will check them before we leave, does it sound good ?”

“Yes !”

With these words, Naeun joyfully entered the classroom again and ran to her appointed desk, taking all her things out of her hessian bag. After he checked on her to make sure she was starting to work — which he didn’t doubt a single second — Jonghyun eventually turned towards the two men who were eyeing him, then the baby, then him again.

“Well, this is part of the job I guess ?” He said, laughing as he made the boy jump a bit on his hip. “I’m the father of a bunch of kids from all ages now.”

“If you ever need vacation, you can just come whining like him at my office.” The King joked.

“I will remember this ! It is a pleasure to have you here again. I am just afraid I won’t be able to talk with you for long, Naeun is pretty fast when it comes to homework and I wouldn’t want her mother to grow worried because her children are not coming home.”

“It’s fine, we’ll be fast too.” Kibum answered. “I just have something to tell you and it’s really important so… can we sit for a moment ?”

“Sure, should we go inside or is it too private for a little girl’s ears ?”

“Way too private, I’m sorry.”

The teacher frowned, for he hadn’t had the opportunity to see his friend so serious often, or at least not when it was about something concerning him. Nodding, he proposed them to move the bench in front of the door so they could sit on it and he could still keep en eye of his student. The husbands agreed and once they were seating, it became quite difficult for the Prince to say what he had to say. It was like his first worry about this issue were coming back strongly, as if an evil little voice was whispering him that if he talked, Jonghyun would leave.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, and to remember both Jinki and Taemin’s words when he had let them know about the blonde man’s secret lineage. He had to say it, it would be unfair to still hide it and… now that he was here with the concerned one waiting for him, he couldn’t renounce. What he hadn’t expected was for Minho’s hand to suddenly cover his, as the latter whispered that he was trembling, and asked if he was alright. Kibum didn’t know how he didn’t jerk the hand away because they weren’t supposed to show their closeness to anyone…

But it reassured him.

And so, he replied that he was fine and talked. He told everything he had learnt in Maguk, from Queen Hyoyeon’s own mouth. He gave details about the curse, the way to pass it on from mother to child, and the scar that every survivor got. He tried his best to ignore Jonghyun’s face growing paler by seconds passing, and the shocked expression in Minho’s eyes, as he explained what it meant for his friend. He didn't omit anything, he told all the possibilities he had, all potential choices that were only his. 

When he was done, it felt like he had taken a weigh off his shoulders but somehow, the lump in his throat was still there. He was fearing the reaction, and even the King’s hand holding his wasn’t enough to calm his racing heart now. Seconds felt like hours, as both royals let Jonghyun digest the news, until the baby on his hip felt the tensed atmosphere and started whining. The teacher cleared his throat and made him jump a bit to calm him, snapping out of it.

“You’re telling me…” He started. “I’m a relative of Maguk’s royal family ?”

“A distant relative, yes, because your common ancestor lived two centuries ago.” The Prince nodded, his voice low and his tone gentle. “You already knew about your disease and how you survived, right ? But I don’t think you knew about the actual disease…”

“My mother has brown hair, she doesn’t have that scar you talked about.”

“My apologies but…” Minho spoke in. “Would you mind telling me if your mother slept with a headscarf ?”

“She… She did, but it was because she took really good care of her hair and… wait a minute. Could it be…?”

“I think she was dying it during the night, Jonghyun, with a special powder from Maguk.” Kibum confirmed. “It’s impossible for her to be brown haired if she passed this disease on you. Or if she really is, she might not be…”

“She might not be my mom… But no, she is. We’re too physically alike to not be mother and son, or from the same family at least.”

“This is… quite an important issue.” The King commented after a moment of silence from the three men. “I guess you need time to digest it, and to think about what you will do with these informations. Of course, the palace’s doors are open as soon as you want to let us know of your decision. Whatever you choose, you will have my support.”

“And mine, too.” The other man nodded despite the pinch in his chest when he said it.

Jonghyun bowed his head as a way to thank them, and he cleared his throat. At that same moment, a tiny voice called for him and he excused himself as he walked to Naeun, verifying her work. When he came back, she was holding his free hand with her little bad hanging on her shoulder, ready to go home.

“I will think carefully about everything.” The teacher said to the royals, who stood up. “And I will let you know about what I decide but… it is quite troubling at the moment.”

“We understand.” Minho said despite his own shock. “Please take as much time as you need. Now take these little sweethearts home.”

Saying this, the King winked at the little girl who smiled and hid behind her teacher, making Kibum roll his eyes. What had he done to hang out with only charming men ? He must be doomed. This little scene made Jonghyun smile and he bid goodbye to his two visitors, wishing them to return safely as well before he left with the two children. As they watched them from behind, Kibum had a smile on his face since he found adorable the way it looks like a family, while Minho grew a bit pale at this same thought. 

“Well, now we should question your people about the spy.” The Prince eventually said, turning towards his husband. “We have two good hours before dinner will be served at the palace.”

“Yes… but I would like you to go back home.” The other man replied. “It would look a bit suspicious if I start asking questions about a newcomer, with someone by my side. Moreover, I think it would be for the best if there is one of us at the palace, in case we are demanded.”

“Are you sure ? You know I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone in the streets…”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine as always. But if you want to protect me, please go home and ask Jinki to join me.”

“Alright but… do you have a weapon ? Also, I don’t want return alone.”

“Then let me escort you. And I have my dagger but I hope it won’t be useful.”

Kibum nodded but the way he was offered a smile reassured him enough to smile in his turn. Both men hit the road again through the town, discussing the places were a man under cover would most likely stay to remain discreet. The Prince advised his husband to question storekeepers, for they were certainly the best placed to observe people, along with elderly persons. 

As they reached the outer wall and lounged it until the hidden ladder, Minho promised the other man he would do as fast as possible and that he was heading to the inn first, so Jinki should be sent around here. Kibum asked him to be careful until the soldier would be near him, and to use his dagger if needed.

“Stab the thigh to destabilise, hit the balls to immobilise.” He said, making the King laugh. “It’s serious, it works !”

“You will have to tell me when you had to use that method.” The other answered before he put a black strand behind his husband’s ear. “Now go, and take care of the palace for me.”

“Please, you’ll be back in two hours.”

“Who knows what can happen in two hours ! I’ve been shot in one second.”

“Get out of my sight.”

The Prince pursed his lips together and pushed Minho away, the latter never stopping to laugh as he endured his so compassionate husband’s hits against his back. When it stopped, however, he caught Kibum’s wrists and pushed his annoyance to its paroxysm by stealing him a kiss… before he ran away like a beggar. The raven haired man refrained from yelling and grabbed a branch on the floor to throw it at the running man. Yet, once he was alone, he smiled.

For sure he had fallen for that moron.

“Your Grace, the Queen Mother requires your presence in her private room immediately.”

Kibum looked up from the book he was reading in the Royal Library, to look at his mother-in-law’s notorious first female companion, Joohyun. She was a cold beauty, as he liked to call her, because as beautiful as she was, it was so difficult to make her smile. However, he knew that attitude very well for he had been like her in the past, thus he was aware that she was way much warmer than she looked. 

“Of course, my dear.” He answered, closing his book and putting it on the coffee table as he stood up. “Please lead the way.”

Bowing her head, the young woman left the Library and walked through the corridors, never making sure that she was being followed. She knew she was. The Prince thought for a second that if she had royal blood, she would make a powerful princess filled with a seductive self confidence. He had had the opportunity to see her in operation with the other female companions and maids, and she was a born leader as well.

He preferred not to mess with her, and it was much funnier to mess with the General anyway. He followed her without saying a word, until they reached a really quiet space, filled with a relaxed atmosphere. That didn’t look too good. Joohyun softly knocked at a door and opened it before she moved to the side, letting Kibum enter. 

The Prince was welcomed in a really beautiful room, small but bright, for it overlooked the gardens and the open windows were letting the cool breeze blow on the thin white curtains. It was indeed a private room with only a couch and an armchair, separated by a coffee table on which was resting a tea set ; against the walls, there was an unique bookcase and a few ancient scrolls hanging in a very symmetrical way. And there, sitting in the armchair with a fuming cup of tea in her hands, was the Queen Mother.

Gorgeous as always, as if age didn’t alternate her perfect skin and complexion, nor the brightness of her long hair tied in an usual complex style. That day, she was wearing a rather simple attire, composed of a long white dress with elegant shoulders’ straps, that draped her body beautifully. To cover a bit her naked arms, she chose a see-through shawl, which golden color showed her royalty. She had the presence of a goddess, and Kibum would never not be amazed by her.

“Good afternoon, your Majesty.” He said as he bowed his head, his mother-in-law returning the gesture.

“Good afternoon, your Grace.” She replied before gesturing her hand towards the couch. “Please have seat. Would you like some tea ?”

“With pleasure.”

Jihwan smiled and poured the hot liquid herself in an empty cup, offering it with both hands to the Prince, who accepted it just as politely. They both sipped once before holding their cup on their thighs, staring at each other.

“It has been a long time since we last shared a moment together.” The woman said, her voice soft and welcoming. “I had the pleasant surprise to find a coffer in my quarters this morning, with splendid clothes. Naturally, I figured out it was a gift from his Grace.”

“Indeed, I thought it would please you to have something brand new to add to your wardrobe.” Kibum smiled. “I hope the colours are fine ? I confess I chose everything myself, I refuse Queen Hyoyeon’s help.”

“Oh, did you ? This shade of blue is actually my favourite, so I am really pleased. Thank you very much for all of this.”

“The pleasure was all mine, your Majesty. I look forwards to see you wear one of these pieces.”

The Queen smiled as she sipped a bit more of her tea. She was feeling uneasy, deep inside, but she was doing her best to hide it. It had taken her a few days to realise that, if she couldn’t reason her own son, perhaps she would be luckier with her son-in-law. With time, she had noticed how stubborn he could be as well, however, it wasn’t the same stubbornness than Minho… dialogue seemed more approachable. 

But what she wanted to talk about was already hard with her son, and it was hurting her to have to bring it up with someone so concerned. And since their reconciliation after her birthday’s reception, she felt like she was betraying him. She was afraid that this kind man would think she had pretended to appreciate him, for she knew about his tendencies to lose all confidence in himself. She had said it harshly to the King a few days before, mentioning the Prince’s trust issues, and she regretted it.

If she had one flaw, it was this one. She tended to let extremely hard words out when she felt she was loosing control, words that she didn’t always think. As for these ones, she felt extremely guilty to have supposed that her son-in-law trust issues weren’t worth their attention. But how could she approach such a topic without putting his self confidence at risk ? Even more now that he seemed as fond of her as she was of him ?

“Tell me, your Grace.” She eventually spoke. “How do you feel within us now that it has been a few months since you installed yourself in the palace ?”

“Oh, I feel really… satisfied.” Kibum replied with a smile. “It was difficult during the first weeks, to be honest with her Majesty, but everyone remained so warm and welcoming towards me despite my attitudes… it felt pleasant.”

“No one could blame you back then, after all, you left a home to live in a whole new world. The circumstances were certainly not the most suitable to you either, am I right ?”

“You are. I was feeling awkward, but now I am really appeased. The King showed himself patient with me and I am thankful, because Jinju feels like home now.”

“Oh, does it ?”

“Yes, your Majesty. If I may be completely honest… I never really felt at home in Mongje. I was always trying to find my place, but never succeeded. It is a cold place, and the only warmth was my sister.”

“I see… You do not have to talk about this if it makes you uneasy.”

“Thank you.”

Jihwan looked at the Prince, and she was about to speak again when she realised she wasn’t doing things the right way. Neither her son nor her son-in-law deserved to be manipulated like this, she had suffer a painful failure when she had last talked with the King, and she must learn from this mistake. She wasn’t the monster of ice she had once been labelled as.

“Your Grace, I must confess something as well.” She said, sighing and putting her cup on the coffee table before clearing her throat. “I did not make you come only to have tea together.”

“You are intriguing me, your Majesty.” Kibum answered, frowning as he imitated her. “What is it ?”

“Has my son, perhaps, told you about a conversation we both had recently ? A stormy conversation.”

“No, he has not. I noticed your absence these past few days but I have been told that you were not feeling well so I did not insist.”

“I see… Well, then it is my duty to tell you about it. And I apologise in advance because it will not be pleasant to hear.”

“I am all ears, your Majesty.”

The Queen’s eyes had lost all their confidence and power, what made the Prince worry even more about what he was about to learn. Minho and him had been so honest with each other for the past few weeks, he couldn’t look on the upcoming confession with a favourable eye if his husband had hidden it from him. It seemed so serious, to the extent his mother-in-law looked extremely weakened. 

And when she started speaking, he could feel colours leave his face bit by bit. Not once did she sound harsh or agressive. Her voice remained soft, low and her tone motherly. However, the words she was saying harmed like hell. 

Kibum listened carefully until the end, and he was beyond surprised to see Jihwan’s eyes water. She wasn't the kind to show weak emotions, and the only time she had seen her cry had been when they had thought Minho would die in their arms. And at that moment, her face showed the same pain, for she was worrying herself sick about her son and the kingdom’s well-being. She was trapped between the two, unable to choose one, and the Prince felt how it was tearing her apart although she tried her best to not show it.

She was a strong woman, and from all his twenty years of age, he understood she didn’t mean to harm him with her words. She was more wishing to have him understanding her point or at least acknowledging it, for she had failed with her own son. The lump in his throat was preventing Kibum from talking, because he was becoming conscious about his biggest fear regarding his marriage, becoming real by days passing. Even though his husband had promised him to never repudiate him, it seemed unavoidable.

“I know it is really difficult to hear.” Jihwan said when she couldn’t wait for an answer any longer. “But I have to think about Jinju, and I wish my son could see my point. He is doing wonderfully well as a sovereign and I am beyond proud of him. But… we cannot leave our kingdom with an heir on an heiress.”

“I understand.” The Prince eventually said, what surprised the Queen to the point she widened her eyes, and a tear escaped. “Your Majesty, I have thought about this from the day I arrived. It was… it was a fear of mine, because of the feeling to be used and thrown away. I hope you acknowledge my feelings on this matter.”

“I do, I really do. And when my son accused me of pretending to appreciate you, I answer that I do not. I tried. I tried to despise you because it would have been easier to send you back, I confess it. But how could I ? I saw your true nature and I cannot hate you, for you are an incredible human being, and I would have loved to call you my son, and see you reign by the King’s side.”

“But it is not possible.”

“It is, but it would mean to face disgrace, for my son would have to create an illegitimate heir. I proposed it to him, this is how desperate I am. It has been done in the past and it was forgiven, forgotten. But he rejected the simple thought of it.”

“Your Majesty, would you really accept an illegitimate grandchild ? And what would the mother become ? It would only be hurtful for everyone.”

“I am conscious of this, your Grace, even though it would be the only way to maintain my son and your marriage.”

“Why do you seem so saddened by the idea of annul our marriage…?”

“Because… Because my son likes you, dear. He confessed to me and… I certainly had the wrong reaction because I was not in my right mind and to be honest, it still… it still bothers me but he is my son. I saw him cancel a man’s execution because he refused to go against someone’s love, and I would not be a good mother if I did not do the same.”

Kibum listened quietly but soon, the only thing he could hear was the sound of his heart beating faster. Although the situation was beyond negative for him, although he understood why he had to step out… knowing that his King had confessed his love for him to his mother, and not to him first… it made him happy. And thus, it hurt even more to have no choice but agree with the Queen.

 “Do you like him in return, your Grace ?” The woman eventually asked, and none of them knew for sure is she wanted a positive or a negative answer. “Please, I need your honesty.”

“I… Your Majesty, I…” The Prince stuttered before he lowered his head to give it a second thought, and he looked up. “I do.”

“Then try to reason him, I implore you. If you love him and if he loves you, please talk about this with him… perhaps he will listen to you when he does not listen to his mother anymore.”

Kibum pursed his lips together, as the plea was so hard to hear. He didn’t want to leave Minho, not now that he was the only man he had in mind, from the moment he opened his eyes on the morning to the moment he closed them when night had fallen. Not when they had grown so conniving, teasing each other and laughing together after weeks of coldness from himself. This coldness that had slowly be warmed by the King’s kindness… he didn’t want to feel cold anymore.

But did he have a choice ?

“I-I will…” He said, lowering his head.

Days had passed, and the Prince had never found the bravery to confront his husband. He had suffered the imploring stare of his mother-in-law every single day for a whole week, and he was growing anxious. He knew this conversation with Minho was needed, but he felt so happy with him, every single second spent in his company was making feel more alive than he had never felt. When he was having his non-reciprocal relationship with Jonghyun, he had always suffered from the lack of real happiness.

And he was realising it only know, for he was finally feeling it. It was new, it felt so good, so warm, and the simple thought of letting it go was hurting him just as much as a sharp blade stabbing his heart. He had always thought he had deeply loved his teacher, but he had been wrong all this time. It had been about obsession, driven by lust and trust issues. He didn’t blame him for what had happened, he rather blamed himself for forcing him into such a thing, being aware of how irritating he must have been.

But Minho… it was different. Everything felt stronger, the stares they exchanged, the words they told each other, the touches here and there… everything. He longed for his husband’s simple presence after a few hours without him, he missed his kindness and his smile, but also his annoying habit to provoke him only to be nagged and the way he would sulk like a child to the slightest disagreement. He missed everything of him, and Jinki had warned him about it. With his King, it was love he was feeling. He was so in love that it was so painful to have to look at him in the eyes and tell him they would have to separate sooner or later, and that it must be done early to hurt less. 

He had wanted to seek advices from Jonghyun, even Taemin or Jinki. But he hadn’t been able to, not when he had seen them so radiant. His blonde friend was living the best life he could never have imagined, doing what he liked the most and having a lover that wasn’t clingy to him. His best friend, this young boy who was becoming a strong man… he was realising his dream and who couldn’t feel proud of him when he was praised by all his seniors ? And the General, who had slowly but surely opened to him, shown the so warm and attentive man he hid inside.

No, he refused to ruin their newly found happiness because he couldn’t have his own. He was done being selfish. And this was how he found himself knocking at the dining room where he knew the King was, alone with a few things to arrange before a reception with a few couples of nobles. He didn’t wait to be allowed to enter, for the simple wait could make him renounce.

As he entered, he was welcomed by this so warm smile that had so much power on him. He felt his legs fail him but held steady, walking to Minho who immediately pulled him with an arm on his waist.

“Missing me, my Prince ?” He asked, stealing his husband a kiss. 

“Deeply, as always, my King.” Kibum sincerely replied despite the horrible feeling of his heart sinking. “I long for you as soon as you leave my side.”

“I will join you soon, I’m almost done here. It’s late already, but you are still dressed ?”

“Yes, because I didn’t want to meet you wearing night clothes, not when what I have to tell you is important.”

“You seem afraid… is everything alright ? Did someone hurt you ? Just tell me a name and I will get rid of that rascal immediately.”

“No, Minho. I’m not hurt yet.”

The King raised his eyebrows when he heard his name being called, realising how serious the situation must be. With his hand, he gestured the Prince to take a seat, and sat himself next to him. 

“Pray tell, you’re worrying me.” Minho requested, trying his best not to put too much pressure on his already tensed husband. “I’m listening, you can tell me everything.”

“You have to promise me you won’t be angry, because it would… it would be horrible, so please, don’t get angry.” The other man said, only worrying the youngest more.

“I can’t promise that, Kibum. Just spit it out, you’re really starting to scare me right now.”

“It’s… it’s about us, about what we officially are.”

“You mean… husbands ?”

“Y-Yes. I have to be honest with you, I have a conversation with your mother a few days ago and… and she told she had the same with you while I was away.”

Hearing these words, the King’s jaw tensed and he closed his hands into fists. His eyes immediately darkened and Kibum swallowed with difficulty. He had to keep talking.

“Is it true ? Did you refuse any kind of talk about your future ?” He asked. “Then we have to talk about it, you and I, before it hurts us even more.”

“My future is settled.” Minho firmly said. “It is not only mine but ours, me as the King and you as the Prince. There is nothing more to discuss.”

“Minho, wait !”

As the youngest of the two men was starting to stand up, his wrist was grabbed by his husband and he jerked it. He kept showing his back to the Prince, for he knew he would snap at him he looked at him while hearing such words again, from his mouth. But Kibum had no intention to let him escape the room, although he sat still.

“You are a wonderful King.” The raven haired man said, his voice soft and sincere. “Everyone in the palace appreciates working under your command, only some old bags still resist but what do you want ? It takes all sorts to make a world. Your people ? They love you, they know you’re a good sovereign and they never complained until now. You saw them yourself, they’re living happily and even the poorest don’t blame you, they keep smiling and helping each other.”

“What’s the point of this ?” Minho said, his teeth gritting and not turning over. “I don’t see where you’re going.”

“I mean you are doing well, Minho. You are doing beyond well fo your kingdom, and the only thing you’re doing wrong is not thinking about your future.”

“Don’t say anything more, I warn you.”

“I can’t. Your mother is right, it’s not about you and me but about Jinju, who needs to prosper. Please, you have to listen to me and we will find a solution together, I don’t want to leave you eith—”

“Then stop talking !”

Kibum jumped with surprised on his seat when his husband abruptly turned over, his features torn with anger and his fists falling noisily on the table. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and for the first time ever, the Prince felt the need to stand far away from the King.

“If you want to stay by my side, why are you annoying me with such nonsense ?” Minho said, his voice growing louder word after word. “Is it a joke to you ? What we are living, do you think it’s a game ?”

“When did I even say that ?” The other man frowned. “Alright, I see what your mother meant. Do not twist words, Minho, you are hurting yourself on your own responsibility.”

“Then explain yourself ! Why do you side with her when she wants to separate us ?!”

“Because you have to secure your kingdom ! Please, we are adults now, we can’t only think about ourselves.”

“Can’t we ? Funny, coming from someone who cheated on me almost on the day of our wedding !”

“You… you didn’t say that…”

Kibum slowly stood up, but even the tears in his eyes couldn’t stop Minho’s anger. He was facing a wall, a kind that was way too hard to break without breaking ourselves against it. 

“Take it back…” He said, his voice trembling as he stared at the King. “You can’t go against me with that, not after everything we shared…”

“You’re about to ruin everything we shared.” Minho sharply said, not even looking at him anymore and boiling on the spot. “I can’t believe she came to you and took advantage of you to turn you against me…”

“She didn’t, Minho, by the Gods just listen to me !” Kibum walked to him and took his hands in his, only to be rejected. “I know it hurts ! I know how hard it sounds to have to be separated, I know !”

“You don’t seem to know, since you’re maintaining we should separate !”

“Sometimes the most necessary things hurt but they’re not less necessary, we both know it !”

“And what do you want from me ?! To send you back to your shitty home when no one appreciates you for what you’re worth ?! To marry some woman and despise her because the only person I want is and will always be you ?! How dare you ask me such a thing !”

“Because you are a King ! You have to think about your kingdom before me, before yourself !”

“I don’t want to hear anything else.”

“Stop being such a spoiled child and open your eyes !”

“You just opened them ! I thought you might, I don’t know, love me ? Turns out I was so wrong about you !”

This was the final straw for Kibum, who shut his mouth and let hot tears roll down his cheeks. It had never hurt like it was hurting at the moment. Suddenly he didn’t have anymore strength to fight back.

“I leaved everything behind for you.” He just said, his voice low and trembling, broken with sobs. “Oh, at first it wasn’t intentional, I was forced to. But I ended up falling for you, for everything about you. And you…”

“Kibum…” The King said, frowning as he started realising he might have gone too far, but his husband made a step backwards.

“If you can’t understand that I’m doing all of this because I love you… then we are already lost, Minho. I never wanted to leave you. Never. But now… maybe I want.”

“Listen, Kibum—”

“No… just… keep quiet and… stay away from me…”

Without waiting for an answer, the Prince rejected the hand that tried to catch his, and ran away from the room, not holding his sobs back. The door knocked open and he disappeared until his running steps couldn’t be heard anymore.

The King remained alone, and he held himself on a chair’s backrest. He was still dumbfounded about what had just happened, and he felt a wide open hole in his chest. He was lost in his thoughts, his eyes watering as well, when he heard steps entering and he looked up, hoping to see his husband… but it was not him. Jinki was looking at him from afar, not approaching him at all. 

His stare was strongly disapproving.

“How much did you hear ?” He asked, not confident at all.

“Enough.” The soldier replied. “And this time… you really fucked up.”

Minho couldn’t have time to answer that his friend had already left, running after the Prince. And it was at that moment the majestic King of the First Kingdom realised he was, this time, completely alone.

next

[overly-b]

True Intentions Made Untrue (A Kingsman Fic) - Chapter 3

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x American Reader

Summary: Being the daughter of top agents meant that she never had a shot. Until one day, when it seemed that out of the blue, the rules had suddenly changed. But why? How did the rules once so firmly pressed into stone suddenly change? Was it her, was it the agency? Sometimes the truest intentions can turn bitter.

Just a lil disclaimer, this fic will be hard to follow if you have not seen the Kingsman movies (or at least the first one) spoiler alert if you have not! Also, I am American, so I tend to write things as well as my characters with that point of view so the reader is American.

Please feel free to message me or shoot me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list!

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie

Enjoy loves!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 

It took everything that I had not to gush over the pyramid of puppies in front of me. I kept my lips pressed in a firm line to force myself to listen to Merlin who stood on the balcony above them.  

“As some of you will have learned last night,  teamwork is paramount here at Kingsman. We're here to enhance your skills, test you to the limit. Which is why you're gonna pick a puppy.”

My eyes went straight to the brittany spaniel that was placed in the middle of the pyramid, as well as the pit bull right next to it. I weighed my options. My family in America had brittany's back home. Hunting dogs, easy to train, easy to get along with, plus, I have tons of experience already. However, Pitbulls are tough and hearty. Easy to train as well.

“Wherever you go, your dog goes. You will care for it. You will teach it. And by the time it's fully trained, so will you be. Those of you who are still here, that is. Do you understand? Choose your puppy.”

I go for the brittany, scooping up the puppy in my arms. I take a moment to squeeze it gently before attaching its leash and placing the small being at my feet. I stand next to Eggsy with Roxy on his other side. I peer over their choices.

“A poodle?” Eggsy asks slightly smug expression on his face.

“What? They're gun dogs. Oldest working breed. Easy to train.” She looks to me for back up, Eggsy peers my way along with her. I nod in agreement to her statement. “A pug?” She beats me to the punch. Eggsy then looks up in a panic.

“It's a bulldog, innit?” My mouth widens in surprise and amusement and I shut it quickly not to burst out laughing at his mistake. Roxy shakes her head. Eggsy then cocks his head towards me with a look of help me on his face. He sees my expression and realizes the mishap.  “It'll get bigger, though, won't it?”

“Not by much” I stifle a giggle.

“Shit” He drops his shoulders, looking at my dog. “Alright then, what’s that?” He asks, obviously annoyed with himself, trying to see if I had made a bad decision as well.

“It’s a brittany” I say matter of factly. “Hunters, gun dogs, quick learners, and I have previous experience”  

“Fuck me” He groans, seeing that I chose wisely.

“At least he’s cute” I glance down to Eggsy’s feet where our puppies sniff each other wearily, both so tiny and weak. He chuckles at my attempts to make him feel better.

Shortly after we all fall back in line, Merlin dismisses us for the day. I decide to stay outside in the sun and play with my new found friend. I sit down in the grass, letting him off of his leash. He patters around slowly for a while, unsure of his surroundings. I giggle as he trips over himself multiple times, his footing still not being the greatest. As I ponder names for the tiny brown and white dog, I hear footsteps behind me.

“Mind if I join you?” Eggsy’s accent rings through my ears. I turn my head to find him with his pug in his arms. I pat the grass next to me, motioning for him to sit. He sets his puppy down near my leg and takes the place beside me.

“Any ideas for names yet?” I question the blonde haired boy.

“Not really. You?” We both stare intently at the creatures bouncing about.

“Meh. I’m brainstorming” I answer. “What are some of your favorite things?”

“What?” He furrows his brows.

“What are some of your favorite things?” I ask again. “You know, singers, shows, movies. What are some things we could base his name off of?”

He spends a few minutes listing singers, movies, shows, characters, telling me all about some of his favorite things. I find it interesting simply listening to him.

“Jack Bauer is my favorite character of all time though.” He admits.

“You’re gonna name your dog Jack Bauer?” I muse.

“Nah. That’s a bit funny don’t ya think?” He chuckles.

“JB” I state absentmindedly, watching our dogs play together whilst picking at a blade of grass.

“JB, that’s perfect” He sits up slightly.

“What?” I whip my head around to look at him, giggling in a confused manner.

“JB! I love it”

“Oh my god I was joking!” I exclaim.

“Well I’m not, I fuckin love that. JB the bulldog” He states matter of factly.

“Eggsy he’s not a bulldog!” I laugh gesturing to his pug.

“Yeah, how the bloody fuck did I do that?”

“I don’t know how the hell did you do that?” I scoff at him, answering his question with the same one.

“Fucking,” He sighs in annoyance with his own mistake. “What are you naming your dog?”

While Eggsy was listing off his favorite things, I was listening and thinking of some names as well. One however, was as random as it gets, but it seemed to suit the young boy pup.

“Bentley” I state.

“Bentley? Like the car?” he tilts his head.

“Yup” I answer, thinking of a certain automobile that I hold near and dear to my heart.

“Ya like Bentleys?” He squints in the ever prevailing sun.

“I do yeah. My dad had one” I leave it simply, not wanting to dig further into the topic. He seems to understand this as he asks no further. We sit for a while longer before Merlin’s footsteps approach us.

“Y/N, Eggsy” He begins. I quickly stand at attention, and Eggsy is clumsy in following my lead. “At ease.” He tells us. “A word with you please” He nods in my direction. I clip Bentley’s leash to his collar and shoot Eggsy a quick smile before walking in Merlin's shadow into the Kingsman base.

We walk a ways through an endless maze of hallways and doors before coming to one in what looks to be a hospital-like setting.

“Understanding that Harry is some of the only family that you have, I feel that it is important that you know he was injured on a mission today”

My face drops as I feel my heart fall to my stomach and I fail to keep my composure.

“What- um, what happened?” I ask Merlin, just above the tone of a whisper.

“Of course you know I can not discuss certain information, he’s in a coma. He’s stable, however, we don’t know how long it’ll be until he will come to.”

I take a moment to process the information given.

“Can I see him?” Merlin answers my question by opening the door and holding it for me to walk through. After I enter, he steps in behind me and shuts the door.

In the blindingly white room, I find machines, beeping and whirring away. Screens and lights blinking and showing breathing patterns and heart waves. And in the middle of it all, Harry. I go from pursing my lips in anticipation to biting my bottom lip so hard in an attempt not to lose it before Merlin's eyes. I let a shaky breath out of my mouth.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“It seems that way yes. I think we just need to have patience. If I were you I would try not to worry. Focus on your training. Make him proud”

I nod at Merlin, walking over to Harry’s bedside and giving his hand a gentle yet tight squeeze.  

“Thank you, Merlin” I take long strides out of the room.

As I find the way back to our quarters, I try not to focus in the fact that Merlin didn’t say that Harry was going to be okay. I try not to think about how unsure he was of it all. I try not to think of the look on his face when I asked. I try, but I did not win that game.

I was thankful to find that the quarters were empty and decided to take a shower. I tied Bentley’s leash to the foot of my bed while he slept just to make sure he didn’t run off.

After standing in one of the semi-private single showers, I stripped down and turned the water hot. I stand in the steaming water in hopes that it would calm me down before anyone else wandered back to the quarters.

I heave sobs, shoving them down my throat before they can escape my mouth. It causes a painful lump in my neck that I am forced to swallow as soon as I hear voices. Charlie, Rufus, and Digby all walk past the shower room into the area where the beds lay. Being that the showers are secluded, they take no notice of me standing there listening to every word they say.

I quickly dry off and dress.

“Lads, who d’ya think is gone next?” I hear Charlie ask his friends.

“Ah that pleb Eggsy has no place here, he’s bound to fuck up soonest,” One of them says. Exiting the shower, I tiptoe to the entrance of the room, listening intently.

“I have a feeling that Roxy might put up a good fight but, she doesn’t have what it takes either”

I scoff to myself. Typical male energy.

“But we both know that you’d tap that, either way, eh Rufus?” Charlie slaps his shoulder. The group laughs.

“What about Y/N mate. She’s well fit, how’d ya think she’ll hold up?” My ears perk up.

“Not well fit enough. D’ya see how small she is?” Charlie gestures, mentioning my short figure. “She’s got to be the youngest one here. She’s feisty but, I doubt she’ll keep up. All talk I bet, she’s too soft for this.”

My face contorts at their demeaning comments. Not into a look of sadness or offense, but into a look of anger, and pure determination.  I decided then to walk out of the shower room.

“Evening boys”  I comment nonchalantly, walking to my bed.

“Evening Y/N” Charlie stands from his position and demeaningly walks towards my bed where I untie Bentley. I turn to walk back out, having every intention of taking my dog for a walk, but Charlie plants himself directly in my path.

“‘Excuse me” I demand.

“Where you going so quick love?” He places his hands on my shoulders to steady my attempt to get around him. I swiftly shake his hands off. 

“A walk, now get out of my way” I take a step to his other side, but his large legs beat me there again.

“Care if I join you?”

“Yeah, I do actually” I sass, absolutely hating the fact that I am forced to look upwards when I speak. “Plus, doubt I could keep up anyway.” I sneer. It was then that he realized I was listening to what he had said.

“Oh come on darling” He chuckles slightly. “I didn’t mean to offend you-” “Good, cause you didn’t” I cut him off sharply.

“I’m just saying love,” There’s that word again. “I just don’t think you have what it takes.”

“All talk right?” I rehash his insult.

“Seems like it to me” He looks me up and down. “Little thing like you, how could you possibly beat out all of us”

To this, I narrow my eyes and look straight into his.

“I guess you’ll find out” I state firmly, with a glint of bitterness to my tone. With that being my final sentence, I begin walking. But not without bumping shoulders with the tall man as hard as I could muster. And sure enough, it was a force great enough to knock him out of my way.

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