#with his low voice short stature bricks on his forearms

[mishy-mashy]

Kudo makes funny facial expressions

[miss-smutty]

Immortal - Chapter 4

Summary- A mysterious pursuer causes Aria and Thor's bond to become bound with blood. Who is he? And why does he keep following her?

Word count- 2.1 k

Pairing- Thor x OC

Warnings- violence

18+only!!

Posted: 6th July 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires

Immortal Masterlist <<<<

"I can help you." Thor pushes back from the gate and slides himself down next to her. "We're similar. And you can not deny the connection we have." He nudged her with his elbow, willing her to look at him just as the sound of footfall echoed down the alley towards them. They both turned their heads at the same time, in the direction of the noise. The footsteps drawing closer.

The footsteps fell silent, stopping in their tracks a couple of meters away from them. Arias ears pricked, trying to pick up any signs of movement. She could hear the sounds of her and Thor's heart beating ridiculously fast, too fast for a human and yet hers still beat the same rhythm as his. She screwed her eyes shut tighter, desperately trying to cut out the thrumming of their own heartbeats and concentrate on what else she could hear. Then she heard it, the heartbeat of someone else, whoever it was, they were definitely human - it was beating much slower and quieter. If only she could get a look at whoever it was and see them deeper, internally scanning them without them even knowing.

Thor looked to Aria knowingly, unspoken words muttered through their eye contact. They had to move to cover, they needed to get to safety but the easiest route, leading them straight into the sights of their enemy, wouldn't be an option.

Thor crouched back on to his heels, ready to move, the stance of a predator ready to pounce until Aria held her arm out against him, holding him back and gesturing with her hand to her ear for him to watch and listen. She closed her eyes again, blocking out as much of the background noise as she could until she heard him again, his feet gently shuffling on the ground as he switched position. Any normal person wouldn't be able to hear the things she could, not even Thor but Aria was far from normal. She pointed to the position of the intruder, letting Thor know where the danger was hiding.

"I could get rid of him with a click of my fingers." He said through gritted teeth, adrenaline coursing through his veins making his skin itch with a need to fight. She could see it like thick tar painting his skin as it travelled down his body, she watched as Thor's face contorted with a desperate need to do something and she realised they weren't completely alike. She was a thinker and he was a doer, unsure of which would actually be better in this current situation she stuck to doing things the way she always had.

"And draw even more attention to us? No, we escape. With our speed, there's no way they will be able to keep up." The thought of seeing Thor in action made her mind drift distractedly, until she got her head back into the game, shaking away her thoughts with a flick of her hair.

"You just admitted you have the same abilities as me." Thor smirked, his calmness was infectious.

She pondered the thought for a moment, realising she did admit that they were similar. She'd always known she was different but admitting it was a big deal and finding someone with almost identical abilities was an even bigger deal for her.

Her eyes were drawn back down the alley, a shiver travelling down her spine when she heard the sound of a gun being loaded, the eyes of a doe locked on to the target of their Hunter. She froze on the spot, her heart rate slowing to almost a stop as she concentrated on staying deadly still, the skills of a hunted animal. A lifetime of being someone's prey she was accustomed with the fight or flight reflex. She usually chose to flee but looking at Thor and seeing the muscles in his neck flexing, his perfect jawline taunt, she knew he would choose to fight.

Aria's wide eyes met with the hunter as he moved into sight, a face she recognised all too well. A face she had seen before many a time, the dark brown soulless eyes of her tormentor stared back at her. The smooth baldness of his head set upon his wide, burly shoulders. The 6'5" stature of pure muscle and brawn crouched behind a dumpster no more than four meters away.

She sighed heavily as she pushed her back against the cold brick wall, a trashcan the only bit of cover they had from the relentless beast who pursued them. 

"It's him." Her voice broke, panting loudly as she began to hyperventilate. Memories flashing through her mind after only the slightest moment of eye contact. Worry appeared on Thor's face as he gazed upon Aria's obvious fear, watching her closely as she regained her composure.

"Who is it?" Thor asked, Aria too deep in shock to reply.

She was pretty sure their stalker was an agent but had no idea why he continued to track her down. Her fingers grazed absentmindedly along the scar just above her collarbone as she remembered her last encounter with the monster in the alley. The way she'd barely escaped from his clutch as he'd held a knife to her throat. When she'd used the last of her strength to push him back against the wall, the knife had slipped and gouged a gash deep into her collarbone. The pain summoning more strength within her and she'd bit into his forearm like an hungry animal, tearing a chunk of his flesh as he let go of his hold upon her. Then she'd run as fast as she could, not stopping to turn around until she was far enough away. She hadn't seen him again since then. Until now.

"We need to go. Now." Thor didn't need to ask any more questions, he saw the look in Aria's eye's and moved low against the gate. Resting on one knee and offering an upturned palm for Aria to step on to. She cocked her head to the side, frowning at Thor before scaling the tall gate effortlessly, without his help. Thor took a moment to admire her climbing down the other side of the fence, a look of determination set upon her soft face. The moment cut short when he heard the agent running behind him, closing on them with a pistol in his outstretched arm.

Thor scaled the gate after Aria, joining her on the other side and wasting no time putting as much distance between the agent and themselves as they could. He held tightly to her hand as they ran through the rest of the alley, praying that it wasn't a dead end.

Aria felt the pain before she heard the sound of the pistol reverberating off the walls of the narrow alley. A sharp ache she could feel deep in the bone of her left shoulder, a pain so deep and acute that it took her breath away instantly. She needed to stop to catch her breath but she couldn't, not yet. She pushed through it, trying as hard as she could to get her legs to work the way she wanted them to but all she could think about was the burning pain exploding through her chest.

Thor stopped in his tracks as he felt Aria stumble forwards, her face ash white as she looked up at him with shock in her eyes before falling to the ground, clutching at her shoulder. He could see the hole in her clothes that the bullet had left and the blood that was seeping through and the sight made his anger flare. The ground rumbled around them, dark clouds gathering above them as a smooth breeze brushed through the alley.

He couldn't stop himself, looking at her crumpled body beneath him once again. The very skies trembling in his presence as a storm gathered above them, he barely even looked at the mysterious man behind them as his eyes glowed brightly, his electrical current tingling his fingertips, electrifying his body. He felt it buzz through him, not thinking twice when he reached out and commanded a bolt of lightning to strike the man right where he stood. Throwing him to the ground with force, his body flying backwards and landing against the brick wall leaving him unmoving.

"Aria? Look at me." He gathered her up into his arms carefully, her eyes fluttering open, a  smile playing at the corner of her lips as she stared into the eyes of her saviour. She gave in to him, allowed herself to trust him now he had proved himself loyal. "It's ok I've got you, tell me where to go."

Aria didn't have the strength to stop herself falling a little deeper for the man who's arms she was encased in when she muttered, "Take me home, Thor." 

**********

Aria's eye's snapped open as she took in her surroundings, a layer of sweat on her forehead as she sat bolt upright in the bed she was laid on, clutching the bandage on her left shoulder. The ache of the bullet wound still there but much less than before.

"You're awake, I've been so worried." Thor's voice came from the chair he had placed by the side of her bed. 

"I think I passed out from exhaustion more than anything else, thank you for taking me home." She pulled the bedsheet up to her chin, Thor's presence made her feel slightly nervous in the intimate setting of her own home. 

"You just keep on surviving don't you? Twice in one day you could've died yet here you are." Thor sat casually in the deep backed arm chair Aria used to read in, his legs planted apart as he leant back against the chair. Aria couldn't help but take a moment to admire the physique of the God, her eyes trialing up his body until they met with his own unblinking pair of deep blue eyes.

She wasn't only surprising him, she was surprising herself with the way she was opening up to him, allowing him to see the side of her she'd hidden for so long. More than that she was enjoying it, enjoying finally being able to be herself with someone.

Thor moved closer to her, sitting on the side of the bed, enjoying the feel of the unknown force that pulls them together. He reached out to run his fingers down her silky hair, reminding Aria of a part of herself she was still hiding from Thor. A part she still couldn't bring herself to reveal to him, her true identity being her last comfort cushion of safety. She knew deep down that she wouldn't be able to keep it hidden from Thor for much longer, not with the way she was starting to feel about him. The connection had been instant but the deep bond she felt had been created that day, when he'd scooped her up in his arms and taken her away from danger without a second thought.

Aria felt her cheeks flushing as she caught Thor's gaze with her own, the unperishing look of hunger lingered in his eyes.

"Why are you blushing? You weren't embarrassed when I first met you." Thor raised his eyebrow at her with a sly smile making Aria's insides twist and contort.

"That was because I thought I'd never see you again." Her tension eased as she started to feel relaxed within Thor's presence, a heavy feeling of lust hung in the air as their bodies gradually gravitated towards each other.

"While we are on the subject, when do we get to do that again?" His finger followed the curve of her Cupid's bow taking away all her coherent thoughts. Thor found her his weakness, he couldn't resist touching her. Desperate to get his hands on her properly.

"Erm, maybe when people stop trying to kill me." She giggled nervously while Thor licked his lips, looking down before his eyes met with her's again. That deep look of hunger burning more adamantly in his eyes than ever before. Something else flickered within them, something she recognised all too well, a look that was also mirrored in her own eyes the last time she was in the presence of the agent. Anger, deep unforgiving anger. 

"I will not allow anyone to hurt you again, not while you're with me." He closed the distance between them, taking her head within his hands. "And Aria, I am not letting you go now I have found you." 

"I don't think I want you to." Her lips parted, unable to contain the need any longer. She knew she didn't want him to let her go, she'd waited a lifetime to feel this with someone and now she had it she wasn't about to give it up. She allowed herself to open up to him although the thought of being weak completely terrified her.

[everythingandeveryplace]

*Thorns part 5 Eric x OC*

He could still taste her on his lips at breakfast, could still feel her silk skin under his fingers as he tied his boots, could still smell her peach shampoo on his morning run. She was everywhere but nowhere all at once, he hadn’t seen her since last night despite how much he searched for her.. it was an uneasy feeling.. caring for someone other than himself. She was all he could focus on, all he could think about.

...Although Deemas smug grin and curious eyes were enough to draw his focus to his annoying best friend.

“What are you staring at?” Eric grumbled, arms crossed as he kept his eyes on the initiates pathetically sparring each other. Not only was he desperately distracted he was also pissed off and frustrated, the display in front of him was enough to to have his blood boiling. “Adams, lift your fucking arms or I’ll break them before you have a chance to block your ugly ass face.”

Deema grinned

“You have.. that look.” The shorter boy circled the much larger tattooed man in front of him.

Eric squirmed under the inspection of his goofy friend

“Knock that shit off, I don’t have any “look”” he growled.

Deemas eyes lit up and an ear splitting grin broke free on his handsome face

“You got laid! My man!” He lifted a palm to Eric’s face, laughing when he smacked it out of the way “who’s the lucky lady?”

“Shut up, I didn’t get laid. Lower your fucking voice.” Eric hissed, eyes darting around the room.

“Was it Lauren again? I’ve seen her following you.. I mean she’s a little.. much. But all power to ya if you’re into silicone.” Deema chuckled.

“Fuck that shit. I haven’t touched Lauren since that night and I don’t plan on ever doing it again.” His nose scrunched up in disgust, Lauren slept with anyone who would give her credibility.. when she couldn’t get Four she had set her sights on Eric and he had stupidly fallen for her long legs and short shorts, alcohol buzzing through his blood.

“So who..”

Deema was cut off by the heavy metal door of the training room swinging open, all of the initiates turned to see what had caused the noise and in an instant Eric was in front of them all..

“Ella?” He questioned.. stepping towards the source of the disruption.

The beautiful brunettes heavy boots beat the linoleum tile, her hand was wrapped tight around one of the newer trainees wrist as she pulled him towards the fighting ring, breezing past Eric and his initiates. Her group of trainees trailed through the open door all looking slightly terrified.

“What’s happening?” Deema moved to stand by Eric beside the ring as they watched Ella tie up her hair and pull off the black long sleeve shirt she had on leaving her in nothing but her tight sports bra and spandex shorts.

Her body was something on an entirely different level, her stomach tanned and toned but subtle curves dipping from her hips to her muscled thighs. Her chest was plenty more than Eric had been expecting based off of her small stature, a bead of sweat rolling from the length of her neck to nestle right between the dips of her breasts. She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman Eric had ever seen.

Then there were the bruises.

Heavy handed purple and green splotches littering her sides, indentations made clear that it was a fist that had beaten her right next to her rib cage. Her spine was marred with scars just beginning to heal and the fingerprint sized bruises on her forearms made Eric’s stomach twist and turn in the beginning stages of nausea. The sight alone made him want to kill something... someone. Her low and angry voice had him snapping out of his own head

“Go ahead Evans, hit me... this is what you wanted isn’t it? “A crack at the crazy bitch?” Well I’m standing right here? You’re not scared are you?” She taunted the much larger boy, clapping her hands together and bracing her feet, knees tight and eyes wild.

Danny Evans was an arrogant Dauntless born piece of shit, Eric had experienced his insubordinace first hand when the boy refused to pack up his shit, Eric had him running laps until he threw up, he had apparently gone too far with the newest trainer and was now staring at her from across the fighting ring, anger and confusion mixing together on his face.

“You’re a fucking psycho.” He sneered “everyone knows you’re insane, that they filled you up with some crazy shit when you were with the factionless.”

Ella laughed, her eyes never leaving the angry boy once.

“You’re right.. I’m crazy. Insane even. But Im stronger than you.. I’m smarter than you.. I’m better than you.. I am every damn thing you could ever hope to be.”

That was all it took, Danny lunged for her with a feral growl reaching for her throat, Ella easily dodged his grasp driving a heavy fist into his side causing him to bend over in pain her free hand reaching up to grip a chunk of his blonde hair and delivering another swift punch to his cheek, blood splitting from his now open lip. She kicked at his side with reverence and swiped his legs out from under him, locking him in place and twisting his arms so they pulled behind his back. He yelped, wiggling and attempting to kick his legs. Ella bent low to his ear and whispered

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to stay away from crazy girls.” She tugged one final time, firmly dislocating his shoulder before dropping his arms and climbing off of him, his screams echoing abasing the quiet murmur of the room. she was panting, adrenaline radiating off of her.

“Class is dismissed for the day. Go pack up your guns. I’ll see you tommorow, extra early.” Her voice was back to its normal honey smooth tone as she adressed her group. They all scrambled to their feet and rushed out the door, most of them were impressed but some were more than a little scared.

Eric watched the way Ella’s shoulders shook just slightly, her eyes far away as she moved to walk past him, head down.

“Ella..” he reached out for her, his fingers just brushing her forearm. she looked down at his fingers on her skin before quickly pulling away. Tears built up in the corners of her chocolate eyes as she gathered her shirt from the ring and rushed past him.

Eric watched her go, an aching in his chest that he wasn’t familiar with.

“So it’s her. Shit dude.”

Deemas hand came to rest on Eric’s shoulder.

Eric turned quickly

“I..” He stuttered, unsure if he was ready to speak it out loud, to put it out there.

“You don’t have to say anything.. just go.” Deema smiled in only the way a friend who had been through what they had together could.

He didn’t have to be told twice, pushing past the trainees and rolling through the metal doors. He knew exactly where she was.

He found her resting on the ledge of the roof, the sun setting against her skin made it glow in hues of yellow and gold, he could make out the tracks of her tears on her skin when she turned to look at him. As soon as she did though she turned away.

“I can’t talk to you right now.” She whispered “I’ll.. I’ll talk to you later okay?” He hated how small her voice sounded, the breeze rustling her curls, he had to bite down the desire to run his fingers through them.

“You did what you had too, there’s nothing wrong with letting them know you’re in charge. They’re dauntless now.. they need to learn.” He sighed when she didn’t answer, moving to stand behind her resting his hand against the small of her back.

It all happened too suddenly for him to process, Ella leaped down from the ledge and onto the floor of the roof, stumbling away from Eric.

“How can you sit there and touch me?! How can you even look at me? You don’t know what I’ve done.. what I’m capable of!” She cried desperately, tears leaking down her cheeks as she pushed herself into the brick wall closest to the door. “You need to stay away from me, .. I can’t be brave.. I can’t be anything.. I hurt people.. that’s what I do! And I won’t hurt you! I can’t.” She reached for the handle, desperate to get away, to run.

In two strides Eric had her wrapped up in his arms, his arms engulfing her waist. As he pressed her head into his chest, fingers rolling in her hair as he held her as tightly as possible.

“I know you Ella.. I see you. You’re beautiful and brave and strong and you’re broken but that’s okay. I’m broken too, I’m cruel and angry and mean and impatient but you make me feel something.. you make me feel everything. I’m not letting whatever this is go because you’re afraid of hurting me. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.. I’ve never had anyone.. I’ve never wanted anything like this but I want this with you. Don’t push me away, let me be there for you. Let me be here.” He gripped her chin and pulled her eyes toward his, She sniffled and closed her eyes lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

“I’m pathetic.” Her lips lifted just slightly, enough to make Eric laugh softly.

“You’re beautiful.” He repeated.

Ella lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, her fingers tracing his tattoo gently. His own eyes drifted closed at the feel of her fingers on his throat “hmm” he hummed.

“Do you think I’ll get In trouble for the whole Danny thing?” She leaned forward, lips brushing his jaw following after her fingers.

He tightened his grip on her waist

“Fuck that. I was there, he had it coming. It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Ella laughed, pure and open and warm. Her nose was red and her eyes were puffy from crying, she’d never looked quite as beautiful.

“Oh yeah? That’s what it takes? A couple undercuts and I have you around my finger. What on earth will all of the ladies of Dauntless say when they find out I’ve caught your attention? We’ll have a riot for sure.”

Eric grinned wickedly, scooping her up and into his arms bridal style, burying his face in her neck, smiling when she giggled and yelped.

“I couldn’t give a shit.” He mumbled against the smooth skin of her neck, inhaling as he slipped out the door with her wrapped up in his arms.

They were halfway down the hallway, Ella talking about the upcoming leadership conference at Amity when Elliot stopped them abruptly moving to stand in front of Eric, his eyes trained on the pretty brunette in his arms, a nasty glare set on his face.

“Where the fuck were you?” He growled.

Ella slipped from Eric’s grasp, her feet finding the floor before she turned towards Elliot.

“Excuse me?”

Eric tensed behind her, looming over her like an overgrown shadow.

“We had weapon training together and I leave to talk to Max for five minutes and find my entire class gone? What the fuck Ella?” He moved closer.

Eric gently tugged Ella back, his expression absolutely lethal.

“Watch your mouth.” He growled.

“What are you going to do about it Coulter? She has you whipped and you haven’t even gotten anything out of her yet. You won’t.. I know bitches like this.. they string you along for nothing.. look at her. You really think she’s worth more than a quick fuck in the training room?” He scoffed, laughing.

Everything went black.

The last thing he heard was his name falling from Ella’s lips.

[ecotone99]

Falmouth [RF]

FALMOUTH

Cool and with a sort of dark charisma, one unfettered by intricacy, Joseph stood at a slight tilt. Standing against a wooden bench, a courthouse bench, a bench which ached, and made its guests ache with a disquiet not too dissimilar from the entire atmosphere of Falmouth, Falmouth Massachusetts this was of course. He had been drinking the night before and could now feel skin on the sides of his mouth hanging, in myriad bits like small dead fish. Joseph, an assistant to the trial lawyer standing adjacent to the aching bench, was trying desperately to listen to the verdict, but was subdued by this awful, unruly sense of abject guilt. You see, he stood completely to the side of the trial, that trial being about the intentional burning of a gentile’s barn in the January prior, and he felt like he was so profoundly alone, with such an emptiness that fairly put the fear of “what’s his name” into him, even more so than when he witnessed his father dying. A slow death that was of course, not at all sudden or violent, but a death by way of bone cancer, a slow eating, much like the inner sensations Joseph was feeling at that very moment.

He had awoken this morning at 5am, awoken from a bizarre dream, one that he had never had before. In the dream he was in an abandoned village, sheet metal strewn all around and not even a stray, mangy dog in sight. And then when he got to the edge of this village, to a bridge occupied by train track and littered with sunlight, he saw a tall lanky man sprinting towards him out of the tree line behind, all the while, a strange Asiatic voice played over some distant Gramophone, a voice telling of a great storm that was soon to come. Broken from his deathly gaze by the sound of the judge’s gavel, Joseph’s knuckle was pinched when his forearm slid from the courtroom’s window ledge, and hit a wood box below, a wood box of unknown origin, akin to one of those queer human organs that even the most learned of men, men of science and of deep thought cannot give a good excuse for. The judge’s verdict for the young arsonist was death by hanging. A strong applause broke out in the courtroom, the young arsonist looked at his shoes, as if he were a stubborn carthorse being whipped, and with that, Joseph began to clap as well.

​

* * *

​

Outside of the courthouse, people scattered, to and fro, with little regard for the day’s blessing of sunlight. Joseph merely sat on a grimy step to the side of the building, he twiddled a matchbox between his fingers, letting it slip from one gap to another. Its shape was so immaculate and, in a way tempted this kind of activity so urgently that Joseph saw it as something that was “doomed to happen”, as the book says. Doomed by its own architect, doomed to be played with and to be opened by only those who swing from gallows. The arsonist’s family stumbled out in shock, nobody shed a tear except for a little girl of about 8. She was tugging at the arm of her father, as if to bring him into a collective song of mourning, but in defiance he merely flicked her away.

Joseph, having become sickened by the whole ordeal, moved across the road away from the courthouse, towards a dilapidated restaurant. With this he remembered an old tale he once heard of Falmouth. As a child he was told that the entire township of Falmouth, being a fishing village, made a pact with a colony of sea devils that were found on a reef near a cavernous lighthouse, right on the edge of the peninsula’s gaze. This pact involved a trading of goods. If met, the sea devils would cull fish from far out at sea into the harbour, alongside this, they would gift the Falmouth paupers with gold and jewellery found in the midst of off shore shipwrecks, although seldom they were found. In return, the towns people would offer up a human sacrifice, a woman being the candidate mainly, who would be brought down to mate with the alien species. After a while, there would of course be a new breed of half human half fish living in Falmouth, this being the explanation for the townsfolk’s wasted look. But that was merely obscure aspersion of course. The town’s odd look and life philosophy could be fully accounted for by an overabundance of alcohol and a sparsity of puritanical religion. Not to forget a long, sluggish mile of time; an endless sea of time that one could not truly utilise nor rid his or herself of. And so now, Joseph was sitting in this horrid bar, looking down at a glass of beer, warm, with nothing but the virgin Mary upwards, a slate of gold-plated metal down below (so as to assist with drunkards of short stature), and a sea of vagrants from side to side, all male, all filled with loathing and angst, and all with quandary's that amounted to nothing more than a hill of beans, at least in the eyes of a bureaucrat such as Joseph, a bureaucrat with problems that were analogous to nothing less than Singmaster’s conjecture when placed in front of a layman not worthy of a paltry slap on the head; “names?” You may say. And to that, a sufficient “such as”, such as enemies, such was the company in the bar on that hot summer evening. And you may say: “What awful, terrible, ungodly problems could a twenty something miser possibly have?” and to that it is to be said: “Not I, but you and everyone else, not I but you, the ‘all-encompassing you’, the you that is ‘en masse’ as the fellow says, abandon all hope ye who enter, for the problems of man are your problems, not one man or a few or even a million men, but all men.” and that is what made Joseph writhe in agony. Not I, but you, the next man, those who follow him; and environs.

On the pavement, Joseph stared from afar at the young man waiting to be hanged. There was a low humming in the crowd, the low humming of a godless machine torn asunder on the inside, but untouched on the outer. It really was a marvellous sight, this odd, sprawled mess of bodies, bodies and heads shifting with awkwardness, as if robotic limbs required to impersonate humanity’s touch & pose. It called to memory Joseph’s time on Portland bill, and then after that, months later, his time in the great war, watching the minenwerfer passing overhead, overhead forever and ever until impact, and with that the entire landscape would light up, and the madman next to him would have a hate on his line, not because of the light in the distance, but in spite of it. Looking at his watch and then backwards, Joseph saw the building with the restaurant and bar in it, this building, this disgusting creation, this odd structure standing alone, one that did not sway when the wind blew. Joseph saw the building as something like one of those curious man-made holes you find in a lonesome desert. They go forward in a line up until the number 60, and then they stop. All responsible for each other except for the very first. He imagined that you’d find a building equally as ugly as this one in the next two towns over, and then four, and then six, and so on. Looking back, he could see that the young man had still not been hanged, some had drifted away out of boredom, but Joseph would stay, perhaps even after the boy was dead, he would stay to look at his eyes, he would see if they changed colour. He thought again about that ghastly building, this obscene hunk of brick and metal. He theorised that this building was the Architectural equivalent of a dictator, keeping the populace of Falmouth docile and uneducated. He thought perhaps, were it to be burnt down, down to a crisp, if he burnt it down, the people of Falmouth would be liberated, they would be free and in the days that followed, they would bring Joseph all kinds of homemade meals and desserts, like the days following a bereavement. The deliciousness of those days would be a new experience to Joseph, such as that of childlike embarrassment or a first love. And he imagined that after the gifts were digested, he would be overcome with guilt, with an alien guilt so overwhelming that he’d be forced to run to the next town and confess. He'd confess to all the misdeeds he’d ever committed: Stealing an apple at age 10, kicking a dog at age 14, and arson at age 28. And after that, the confession made; but the emptiness not quenched, he might even admit to committing a whole slew of murders and robberies that occurred on the east coast in the ten years prior. He would confess and cry out in shame, he would curse God and the stars, and if they dismissed him, if they declared him a madman and a liar hungry for attention, he would spring forth. He would find the closest general store, buy a kitchen knife and, having stabbed himself in the stomach and wrists, he would go quietly and hastily, into the sea.

THE END

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[muinaru-novel-blog]

Chapter Ten - Prisoner

Erik awoke in a cold room, lit only by moonlight that streamed in through a wall of bars on the far side of the room. Slowly, he sat up from his wooden bench upon which he laid. The bench was old; the thick wood was marked with mysterious dark stains and had begun to crack and splinter. The walls were made from large bricks of stone, which were incredibly cold to the touch. Erik stood and listened; it was quiet, the only sound came from the occasional eerie howl of wind and the tap, tap, tap of dripping water.

Erik moved towards the bars that blocked the exit. The bars were old and rusty but, still, they were very thick; sturdy enough to keep someone detained. Outside of the bars was an arena of barred rooms, with a large tower erected in the centre. The arena stood several floors high but had no roof to protect it. Erik presided on the third floor up, which appeared mostly intact.

The floors were connected by two dilapidated stone staircases that were missing many steps, which must have had crumbled at some point. The stairs wound up the sides of the arena, climbing all the way up to the top. However, the very top floor had fallen apart; the tops of the walls were crumpling, many of bars had broken away from the cells walls, and the stairs to this floor now required some hefty long jumps to get there. The floors below were a little more intact, however, stone bricks and debris, which had fallen from above, littered the walkways around the barred rooms.

Slowly, Erik turned away into the room; his hands were quivering as he unclasped the bars. Then, suddenly, he froze as his gaze had landed upon two green eyes that sat in a dark corner, glistening in the moonlight. The owner of the eyes was cast in shadow; only their general size could be made out, which appeared far greater than Erik’s own stature.

Erik continued to freeze whilst the eyes remained fixed upon him. The eyes didn’t blink neither did the owner of them move a muscle; the figure simply remained concealed in the shadows, sitting stiff like a statue.

Cautiously, Erik retreated to his bench and the green eyes followed him. He sat down and still the green eyes followed. He dropped his gaze and muttered to himself, “It’s a dream, a very intense dream.”

A deep voice grumbled from the dark, “This place is no dream.” The green eyes rose and a tall man walked out from the shadows. He was lean and broad. His shoulders were dressed in a thick cape that reached down to his knees. Under the cape he wore a thick coat that stopped at his waist, which was made from a tightly knitted fabric and was kept closed using large toggles made from large animal teeth. Around his waist was a fur cloth, which was kept in place by a strong leather belt. The fur cloth overlapped the brim of his thick trousers, which tucked into the top of his large boots that were heavily scratched and scuffed.

The man further added to his initial comment, “Though, this place maybe be a nightmare.” and walked further into the moonlight, revealing his peculiar face. His ears were thrice the size of a normal man’s and his nose twice if not thrice the size too, (depending upon the man). His skin was tanned to a dark shade of caramel and his hair was jet black. His hairstyle wasn’t traditional; it was kept long just a few centimetres above the top of his ears, and was tied around at the back into a small bun, whilst the back and sides were shaven very short, leaving only a shadow of his hair visible. Upon the left side of his face, his shaven hair was split by three parallel scares, like claw marks.

The man sat beside Erik and looked out of the bars. He inhaled and remarked, “You’re not from around here, are you?” Erik kept silent. The man then leant in and enquired more sternly, “You’re an earthling, aren’t you?”

Erik timidly replied, “Human, yes.”

The man smiled and proclaimed, “I knew it. You can tell the difference by the hair.”

“The hair?”

“It’s a bit thinner and the colour of it has no purply gleamier.” Suddenly the man snorted and remarked, “But you’re not very tall. I thought ‘humans’ were taller.” The man waved his hand over the boy’s head and added, “Are you eating enough?”

Erik smirked, “I’m only fourteen … I still have a lot of growing to do.”

“Oh, right.” The man then asked sympathetically, “First time in prison?”

Erik replied solemnly, “Yes.”

“First time in Kotala?”

“Urm, I guess so.”

“What do you mean, you guess so?”

Erik shrugged, “I don’t really know where Kotala is.”

The man smiled, “You don’t know where you are? You’re in Mylox, my world. You, earthlings, are from Earth. How could you end up here and not know that?”

“Well, I didn’t plan on being here.”

The man chuckled, “You’ve been unfortunate then.” The man held out his grubby hand and explained, “The name is Herax.” Erik reached out hesitantly but Herax quickly clasped Erik’s forearm firmly, pulling him forward and gave his arm a good shake.

Erik replied in turn, “The name is Erik.”

As Herax dropped the boy’s hand, he frowned and explained, “I was farmer once but my farm is gone now. Those shades saw to that. But it has given me the chance to lead a brigade against the shades. You’ve always got to look on the bright side. Been doing it for seven years now.” Quickly he smiled and asked, “What about you earthling boy? What do you do?”

Erik replied, “Well, nothing, I’m err… still in school.”

Herax grunted, “School, I see.”

“I’ve done some paper rounds.”

“What’s that?”

“Delivering newspapers.”

“Right.” Herax nodded.

Erik timidly asked, “What exactly are the shades?”

Herax looked shocked and scorned, “You don’t know much, do you?”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Not a thing.”

“Well, a few things.”

“What are these things?”

“I know about a strange lake.”

Herax nodded, “And that’s how you got here.”

“I know of those creatures that grabbed me are called ‘shades’.”

Herax frowned, “You’re lucky those shades didn’t turn you.” His face stiffened and his brow crumpled as he explained, “Shades are a plague across this territory. They drain the living beings of their spirit until they become nothing but shadows like them. Their lives become one of hunger, never able to satiate their desire for food and water. They can feed indefinitely and never be full.”

Erik asked, “What are the larger ones?”

“The larger ones are still shades, but they have fed excessively. You see, shades can never us energy, they merely consume it; drain it from the living. The more they consume the bigger they get and the worse they smell.”

Erik gulped, “Where did they come from.”

Herax shook his head, “It’s not really known, but they arrived less than a decade ago, when great tragedy struck a frontier city.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a city that borders the belt of lands with no civilisation, or at least, any known civilisation. Anyway, technology brought in by an earthling was used to destroy the city. A bomb of destructive power.”

Erik uttered the only sound that came to his head, “Oh.”

“Sometime after that day these shades began to appear, they spread and now they are everywhere in Kotala. But the Sun keeps them from spreading any farther out of Kotala.”

“Why’s that?”

“Intense levels of energy destroys them, but they’re not stupid. They stay well away from the sunlight.”

“So, who did the bombing?”

“That’s a great mystery. Many suspect the wargos, but they haven’t been found guilty.” Before Erik could ask he explained, “Wargos are a being of this world.”

“Oh, do you believe they did it.”

Herax shook his head, “Nah, they’re not intelligent enough to have done it.”

“Oh,” Erik responded before asking, “So, why do you think the shades imprisoned us?”

“I’ve never heard of a shade imprisoning anything. This is an old prison built by beings before my time. Typically, they use it to hide themselves from the sun, or hoard shiny red objects.” Herax hummed and added, “Maybe they’re becoming organised. Maybe they’re now gathering beings to be consumed at a regular rate.”

Erik gulped, “Consumed?”

“You know, drained, like I was talking about earlier.”

Erik stuttered, “But, we …  we can break out of here, r-right?”

Herax lamented, “This prison was built to detain some of the cruellest and cunningest of criminals, so I wouldn’t entertain any ideas of hope, boy. The bars are thick, the guards are many, and ... well … hmm … I started that believing there would be a third thing, but I suppose that’s pretty much sums up a prison; bars and guards.”

Erik added, “Walls?”

“Of course. The bars are thick, the guards are many and the walls are … hmm … I can’t say thick again.”

“high.”

“Of course. The bars are …”

“Do you really have to say it? I know what you going to say.”

“Alright, no need to be so miserable. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yes. We’re stuck in here and eventually we’re going die a horrible death and become a shade. Yes.” He paused, gazed sternly upon Eric, leaned in and whispered intensely, “We will never, ever, ever, escape this hell.” Suddenly, Herax stopped and rose up. He smiled and chirped, “Oh wait, the gate is open. Never mind, follow me boy.”

“Huh?”

“The gate, its open, we can leave, let’s go.” Herax walked up to the bars and pushed opened gate to the prison cell. “Come on, let’s go Erik.”

Erik sneered and his brow crossed. He asked, “the gate was just open?” He stood and walked over to the gate, adding as he reached Herax’s side, “You just noticed it was open?”

Herax grinned, “Sure. But, keep low and quiet as we leave. Also, follow me, don’t go off on you own.”

The two left the prison cell, crouching low to the floor, and scuttled along the walkway, clambering over fallen rumble. After a several metres they stopped in front of another man who looked much like Herax; large nose and ears. Herax introduced, “Erik this is Skrik.” He then said more seriously to Skrik, “Where are the others.”

Skrik replied, keeping his gaze fixed up Erik, “They’re just waiting farther up,” he then enquired, “Where’d the boy come from?”

Herax shrugged, “I just saw him sleeping in a cell. Apparently, he was detained by shades, so he says.”

Skrik grimaced, “What? I’ve never heard them do that. Sounds fishy to me. He’s probably a spy.”

Herax shook his head, “He’s an earthling.”

Skrik’s eyebrows nearly rose of his head as he asked, “What’s an earthling doing here.”

Herax shrugged, “We’ll find I guess, but now is not the time.”

Erik demanded in a low voice, “What are you talking about? What’s going on? Were you not a prisoner?”

Herax smirked, “Nope, but shades are very much real and are crawling all over this place. Oh, and we are of course going to escape, I was just screwing with you.”

Skrik quickly interposed, “Herax, we really must go.’

Herax affirmed, “Yes.” He grabbed Erik by the shoulder and explained firmly, “We need to leave this place, so keep quiet, only speak when necessary and when spoken too. No pointless questions, got it?” Erik nodded. “Follow me and keep close.”

They moved on through the rumble, keeping low to the ground as they went, until they reached a stone bridge. The bridge was damaged and had started to break apart. Sections of the banister hand broken away and a few holes had been chipped away around the edges.

Herax stopped at the beginning of the bridge and looked over to the tower in the centre, as did Erik. At the top of the tower, scuttling back and forth, were dozens of shades. The silhouette of their thin, frail bodies could be seen against the moonlight gleaming over the tip over the tower.

Erik pinched Herax’s shirt and asked, “Won’t we be seen?” pointing to the shades.

Herax snapped, “What did I say about questions? We’ll be fine, just keep low.”

Skrik went first across the bridge. He dropped down to his stomach and army crawled across to the other side. “Okay,” Herax began, “You’re next, boy. Keep low to the ground and don’t get up until you’re off the bridge.” Erik dropped and crawled across. Herax wasted no time and followed close behind. Once they reach the end, they reverted to their crouch position and continued along the walkway, with Skrik leading the way.

Eventually, they met a woman, a female of Herax’s kind. Her nose and ears were a little smaller, but her cheek bones were larger. She explained as Herax came near, “The explosives are in place and the crew is waiting by the exit.”

Herax unpinned his cape, unveiling the plates of leather armour on shoulders and the unusual gun affixed his hip. He unlatched the gun, which was imprinted with a symbol of an electric bolt upon the handle, and handed to the woman. The woman in turn passed to Herax a long, curved sword. The handle was unusually bulky and, again, an electric bolt symbol was imprinted upon the handle.

Erik asked cautiously, “What’s that?”

Herax replied, “Protection ─”

The woman abruptly asked, as she concealed the gun handed to her, “Where’s the boy come from?”

Herax smiled, “Sorry, Erik this is Freta.” He looked at Freta and explained, “I found the boy in one of the cells. He’s an earthling who claims he was arrested by the shades, but I don’t know why shades would do that.”

Freta threw forward a coat and asked, “Is this the boy’s?”

Erik smiled, “That’s my coat.”

Freta smirked and held up a little book, “It had this inside.”

The corners of Erik’s mouth dropped and he muttered, “That’s mine too.”

Herax took the book and examined it. He looked at Freta and compressed his lips as he frowned. He turned sharply and asked, “Who gave you this book?”

Erik replied expediently, “I found it.”

“Where?”

“It was in the fireplace at an old house.”

“Whose house?”

“I don’t know. I think it was some guy called Kingdom.”

Herax sighed, “Fool!” He slipped the book inside his coat and explained, “We don’t have time for this. We need to move.” Herax threw back the coat to Erik and added, “I’ll be keeping the book.”

As Herax turned away, Eric Immediately began searching the pockets, checking for the pocket watch. It was still there, along with the scrap of folded paper he’d found.

Herax whispered loudly, “Come on you stupid boy. Let’s go.”

Eric enquired, “Where are we going?”

Herax snubbed, “What did I say about questions.”

The continued down to a crew waiting by a large hole in the wall, with an equally large round grill sitting by against the wall close by. The hole in the wall oozed a green sludge, which poured out from the bottom and pooled onto the floor. It was smeared and covered in recent footprints.

Erik rhetorically asked with disgust in his tone, “You came through the sewers?”

Herax scowled, “Oh, I’m sorry, maybe we should have knocked on the front door and asked the shades whether it would be convenient for them if a little princess, such as yourself, could just walk in and have a look around?”

Erik frowned and kept quiet

Herax turned back to the crew and began, “Okay, Tyru.” He looked at a man about the same age as himself and with similar features, big nose and ears. Tyru was missing his right hand little-finger and the rest of his hand was visibly scared by burns. His hair was shaven short all over but he wasn’t bald, in fact his hair line moved in close on the temple of his forehead. His cloths were much like Herax’s, however, his coat was kept closed with the use of typical buttons. Herax commanded, “You lead the crew out, I’ll be right behind. Once we’re out, push through forest, then we’ll detonate charges just as the sun rises. Any questions?”

A younger man, again with big ears and nose, raised his hand. His hair was cut short, the sides were pattern with diagonal strips, whilst the top was merely trimmed short. Wrapped around his shoulder was a large gun, with several warning signs of possible death by electric shock plastered across the barrel. The young man snarked as he pointed at Erik, “When did we get a little apprentice?”

Herax rolled his eyes, he looked at Erik and explained, “This is Muran the moron.” He gazed around the crew and announced, “I’ll explain at the airship, right now we need to move.”

Tyru stepped into the sewer pipe and, quickly, the rest of the crew followed, climbing inside one by one. Herax helped Erik up by interlocking his fingers to create a step and hoisting Erik inside. Although the sewer was no longer in use, it still smelt rancid. Many different creatures had died and decayed in the pipe, which had created a cesspit of unwelcoming smells.

As they crawled Muran kept up the morale with terrible jokes all the way through pipe, “This was a crap plan.”, “I wonder if this leads to the poop deck.”, “I hope we’re the only one’s evacuating into the sewer.”, “Smells like that curry place back home.”