#All this and heaven too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

memurfevur-archive · 2 years

Text

Of Blood and Heart

Character(s): Tikani Caniss, mentions of Caspian and Montague (@clown-fuckers-r-us) and Pori (@themisfitsedge)

About: Tikani, after meeting Caspian and learning that he’s in possession with Montague’s hammer, returns to the estate where she and Montague once lived. She learns of the twin’s past, and learns of her mate’s true fate.

Word Count: 1,989

CW: blood, death mention, implied kidnapping

======

Tikani took a deep breath has her foot touched scarred soil. Once upon a time, this was a refuge for her kind: Low- and Midblooded servants humbly serving a master who loved them. Once upon a time the walls were filled with laughter and cheer. Once upon a time, the master of the hive became a beast when conversing with his fellow man. Once upon a time, that beast held Tikani in his arms and she had known true love. Now, the estate lie abandoned, destroyed and desecrated. Now, not a soul lived inside and the bricks of the building lie permanently stained with the colors of blood. The sight of the hive brought a deep pain through her heart sharper than a wooden stake. This had been her home too, once upon a time.

She trailed her metallic claws along the exposed brick and the peeled paint of the hive's walls. The Highbloods had done a number to the place alright, making sure to turn the place inside and out to find any survivors. Over there, where the cushions were torn and the shelves spilled over with neglect and water damage, and the table snapped in two, had been the dining room where Mr. Laurent had invited her to dinner on multiple occasions-- and likewise she had invited the servants to join her as well. There, through the door, where the fireplace knew nothing but ash and bone and the oil paintings on the wall were repainted with colors of red and green and yellow, was the common area that once saw countless nights of smiles. Mr. Laurent used to hold her as they sat in front of the fire reading books together. Ah, and just beyond that, up the short staircase and through the wide double oak doors was Mr. Laurent's conference room. She would be there by his side, assuring that he would remain calm as his coworkers mistreated him. She would have given anything to live in such simpler times again.

No, that was a lie. She would have given anything to be with him once more.

She climbed those dusty stairs that groaned underfoot; the statues and paintings lining the walls and hallways glared at her accusingly. I'm sorry, she thought to the inanimate objects. I would have stayed and given all that I am to the fight. I would have given my own life for Montague. Forgive me for my cowardice.

Tikani stood right outside Mr. Laurent's room. Her heart quickened its pace; she almost expected to find him on the other side of the door, curled upon his torn pillows or drinking a glass of blood-infused wine. Tikani tried to kill that hope; it would be impossible. He's dead, and so was everyone else. The curse of limited immortality.

Pushing open the door, she was surprised to find that not much has changed in the room since the hive's destruction. The pillows were still torn, the blankets still worn and frayed. Glass shards littered the carpet, and objects on tables had been thrown about. Remnants of rage, no doubt from Montague Laurent's unstable emotions. Through the stagnant musk and dust of air, she could faintly pick up, with her sensitive nose, the last traces of Montague's scent. Her knees buckled, unable to continue carrying her weight. Her knee guards crashed upon the broken glass as a whine tore from her throat. She covered her mouth and nose with her unarmored hand, muffling the cries that wracked her shoulders and created pains in her chest. The tears that pooled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks were blistering hot, and no matter how hard she tried to pull herself together the effort became her undoing.

In an urge of wrath she lashed out with her steel claws and tore further open a pillow that lie beside her. An ugly bark reared its head as she unleashed her fury upon the fabric, spilling its insides out for only her to see. She could see the appeal in lashing out in anger. She could see why Montague had struggled all those sweeps to hold it in until she arrived. As something as innocent as a pillow felt relieving, even if her thoughts morphed it into the face of the Highblood that betrayed them. The cotton was his blood onto the walls.

When she was satisfied with her imaginary kill, something caught her attention: as the stuffing settled to the floor, it lined the way to a cupboard in the wall, the door only slightly ajar. Perhaps that is where her lover's hammer had been kept? She was here for it, after all, trying to prove to her eyes that they had not deceived her when she had caught a glimpse of the young man who looked like Montague. Wiping tears and snot from her face, she pushed herself to her feet and inspected the crawlspace. Nudging the door aside, her eyes widened at what lie ahead of her.

In her time here, Tikani had never known there to be a hidden shelter in the walls of Montague's room. Bedding had been piled inside and food wrappings long expired littered the floor. These were not wrappers that had existed in print nor concept in her time, she realized; someone lived here some time after the Highblood raid. From the looks of it, there may have been more than one person here.

She prowled inside the crawlspace, bright lime eyes flashing to every corner and cranny of the miniature room. The scents that wafted up from the abused bedding were familiar, but they told a dark story. Children. There had been children living here once, carrying the scents of a boy and girl. There were several other scents as well that told of Highblood adults in fits of malice. The boy and the girl smelled afraid. Tikani curled her lips in disgust; the adults had come to harm them. But, if she focused more on the scents of the children, she could almost picture in her head the link between then and now-- of why they seemed so oddly familiar.

Then, in her mind's eye she saw him. One horn curved upwards like her own, the other curved downwards and towards the face like Montague's. Face covered in paint, and behind him waved a long thin tail. It was his scent: that strongman at the carnival, the one who carried Montague's hammer. Montague's descendant, she decided. He had been here as a child, and she could only assume from how similar the scents were that the girl was related to him. Montague's children. Her children?

As she turned to leave, she caught sight of a carving on the overhang wall. She ran her talons over it.

C A S P I A N. P O R I S.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She was asking for pain. Well, really she was only asking for his skeleton to be there, but it was nonetheless a painful wish to behold. Tikani had navigated her way to the hive's basement. Her foot falls were heavy; her boots felt as if they had been filled with lead. The closer she got to the tunnels, the more dread filled her body. She hadn't been down here since the night of her escape with Imogen.

Memories of that night reigned vividly in her mind's eye. Highbloods storming the hive. Innocent workers slaughtered. They were after her and her Limeblood friends. The Government had ruled that Limebloods must be hunted and gutted. The work of Pacifiers were to be no more. Tikani found refuge with Imogen's carnival, and Montague had ushered them into the underground passageways beneath the hive. Montague fought for their escape and nearly died in the process. Tikani never had heard from him again, and for many months after she held onto the hope that he survived. She just needed to wait for his word. But then those months turned into sweeps, and those sweeps turned into centuries.

Which meant that his remains should be here. Tikani had been too held back by that traumatic event to consider coming back to the hive, but if she could see his bones perhaps she could put him at ease one last time. This would be closure for her and him both. She counted her steps and allowed her strong sense of smell to guide her along the passageways. The scent of blood and death was strong here, but out of these death scents she could not find Montague's. She pushed forward.

Tikani began rehearsing words in her head. What would she say to his corpse? Would her voice alone be enough to soothe his bones and bury them into the ground? “You have descendants,” she whispered, amazed. Would he have enjoyed that? Would he have been awe struck at the news? That she and him both, together, created a bloodline? That their love had been strong enough to last even now? And what about those three little words she could never bring herself to say to him? Could she say it now? Would it let her own spirit rest?

This trail went on longer than she remembered. She glanced back behind her where the wooden frames of the tunnels were marred by blade and claw. The grains were rotting away under stains of purple. Montague had certainly been down this way, but she couldn't remember him getting this far. There would have been nowhere else for him to run to; their escape tunnel had collapsed after Tikani and Imogen went through. Except... Tikani picked up her pace, her heart racing and matching every step she took. Montague's scent continued, and none of it climaxed onto the death scent she was expecting. Memories took over. Left. Right. Straight. Left. Another left. The further she went, the more adrenaline surged through her veins and anxiety prickled the hairs on her neck. Up ahead. Up ahead should be a wall made of a cave-in. Up ahead should be boulders that Tikani couldn't move, boulders that she threw herself at in her desperate attempt to return to her mate, to not let him die by himself. The faster her pace went until she was sprinting, and beyond that her body shifted into a quadruped form and fur took the place of skin. The Limeblooded Shiftbeast ran as fast as she could, following the scent that should have ended....

Here

Tikani skidded to a halt, her metallic claws scraping harshly against the stone floors with an eerie shriek. Her eyes went wide at what she saw. The cave-in. The boulders. They had been cleared and pushed aside, broken and crumbled. She padded warily and sniffed around the boulder's edges. Her hackles raised, and her ears perked up. Montague.

She raced, her paws carrying her faster than she had ever been before. Could it be possible? Could he have made it out? She barked. She yipped. She whined. He should have been dead. He should have been dead. There had been no way that he should have survived; he had been gravely wounded, and the Highbloods surely would have left him to rot. Did it work? Did her bite work? Did he live? Did I leave him behind?

The scent trail stopped. Tikani was outside, now, just at the point of the threshold where any scent of old would have long been washed away by centuries worth of rain. Her side's heaved with strained breath as she struggled to catch her own. The sun rising on the horizon couldn't warm how cold she felt, or how numbly her skin buzzed. He lived. Montague had lived. Montague had made it out of the tunnels alive. Was he still out there, somewhere? Could he still be waiting for her? Tikani lifted her head and belted out a howl into the dawn sky.

For the first time in centuries, she felt the spark of hope.

#Tikani Caniss #All This and Heaven Too #fevur writing

5 notes · View notes