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sonicrainicorn · 5 years

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Made of Love, Chapter 11

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Virgil and Roman get some upgrades. (They should probably learn how they work first)

TW: Cursing, body horror (minor)

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Virgil stared up at the canopy of trees, his face contorted in a tight grimace. He couldn’t breathe.

Logan came into his field of view looking rather unimpressed. He put a hand on his hip. “If you sit up you’ll feel better. Take slow breaths and you’ll be fine.” He walked out of Virgil’s line of sight.

He had gotten dragged out of bed this morning after a measly three hours of sleep. Patton and Logan decided that an early session of training was in order. But by training, they meant Logan got to kick the shit out of him while Roman laughed.

Virgil sat up and took a shuddering breath. It felt like a rock was sitting in his lungs. “You know this was a lot funnier when you were doing it to Roman,” his voice came out strained.

“I don't know about these guys, but I personally think this version is better.” Roman gave him a sly grin.

Logan stood next to Patton with his arms crossed. “You’re just lucky Patton convinced me not to use a sword.”

Comforting. “Wow, thanks.” Virgil got to his feet and winced. His whole body strained under the pressure of being alive at this moment. “Have you got it out of your system?”

“Hmm.” Logan feigned being deep in thought. “I’m unsure. Patton, what do you think?”

Patton also pretended to think hard about it. His eyes scanned Virgil up and down. He smirked a bit. “I think he’s learned his lesson.”

Virgil sighed in relief. He didn’t know if he could handle any more ass kicking. Logan was a lot stronger than he looked.

“Congratulations, Virgil.” Roman jumped up from the log. “You survived.” He patted Virgil’s back using a lot more force than necessary.

“Ow,” Virgil puffed.

They trekked back up to the house.

Once inside, Patton set about to making breakfast. Roman and Logan made their coffee, and Virgil laid down on the sofa since it was the softest place for his poor body. He threw an arm over his eyes and tried to ignore the possible bruises forming. All he knew was pain.

After a few minutes alone, something landed on Virgil’s stomach. He lifted up his arm to see Logan smirking at him from around the rim of his mug. A spool of white thread stood where it landed.

“Figured you’d want to fix your little issue.” Then he walked back to the kitchen.

What a smug bastard.

Virgil lifted himself up, letting the spool fall into his lap. Taking off his hoodie hurt a lot more than it should have. He examined the tear. The seam connecting the arm to the rest of the hoodie was split. Another unfortunate tragedy to befall his close friend. What a shame. Ah, well, at least it wouldn’t be falling apart by the end of this. Sewing skills to the rescue.

As he worked on fixing that, Roman, Logan, and Patton all ended up joining him in the living room. He had to keep his legs bent so Roman would be able to sit down but he didn’t mind. He half listened to their conversation with most of his focus going into repairs. The path their conversation was leading towards, however, caused Virgil to halt his progress.

A magical being -- not just a Magus, but any magical creature -- aged slowly. How slowly they aged depended on the species and sometimes the magic type. A human-passing Magus such as Logan would age faster than another humanoid Magus such as an elf. Their lifespans were long and continuous. It was always hard to tell exactly how long, since many older Magi were hard to come by, but the average seemed to be about three thousand years.

An age impossible for any human to ever reach. Even the oldest humans must seem like babies to people like Patton and Logan. A fruit fly compared to a tortoise.

All humanoid Magi aged normally until between the ages of twelve and eighteen; that’s when normal aging stopped and slow aging started. No two stopping ages were the same -- not even for siblings of the same family. A “magical puberty” as Thomas called it once. For example, Patton had stopped at sixteen while Logan didn’t stop until eighteen. That’s why Logan looked older than Patton (and got the butt of all the old man jokes) when it was actually the other way around.

There wasn’t a direct conversion of Magus to human years; there were too many variables that often got in the way of that. Two Magi from the same year with the same stopping age of thirteen could have two different aging factors. One could still be looking thirteen well into their eighties, but the other could be looking sixteen at the same time. It was tricky and annoying, and kind of hard to follow, but that was how it was.

“I just -- I can’t --” Roman rubbed his temples. “Thomas is like twelve. I can’t even see him as older than me. He’s a little baby boy.”

“Just because he has the physical appearance of a teenager doesn’t mean he is,” Logan pointed out. “He’s older than your grandparents.”

“So how old does that make you?” Roman smirked.

“Wait --” Virgil joined in.

“That’s not important.” Logan glared at Roman from over the rim of his mug.

“-- if Thomas doesn’t have magic how can he age slowly?”

“That’s something none of us have been able to figure out,” Patton said. “But to be fair, he does age a bit faster than his brothers.”

Logan set his mug down. “And that’s something that isn’t typical in families.”

Virgil frowned down at the hole still in his hoodie. It seemed like any time something started to make sense, a new thing got thrown into the mix. Why couldn’t things be simple?

“We do have a theory --” Patton cut himself off as the phone on the coffee table started to ring. He gasped at the name displayed. “Oh no.”

“Answer it,” Logan demanded, somewhat panicked.

“What? Me?” Patton stared at the phone in fear. “Why?”

“You know why.” Logan picked up the phone and tried to hand it to Patton. “Answer it.”

Patton hesitated. “I-I can’t -- you know I can’t.”

“I understand how you feel, but we can’t just ignore him. Picani needs to answer.” Logan moved it closer to Patton.

He still didn’t make a move to grab the phone.

“Patton!”

“Fine!” Patton snatched the phone out of Logan’s hand and brought it up to his ear. The displeasure melted off his face with a cheery, “Hello,” in a voice not his own but Picani’s. A perfect imitation.

Everyone else waited in silence to listen to a one-sided conversation.

“Yes, I -- no.” Patton frowned a bit as the person on the other line spoke. “I understand, sir, but I… Today?” He gave Logan a frantic look. “I-I don’t think you understand how much I physically cannot do that… Yeah… Pretty bad… I’m not entirely sure how long… Yes... Thank you. I’ll come in as soon as I can… Of course. Goodbye.” He hung up and sunk down into his seat with a sigh.

“What happened?” Logan set the phone back on the coffee table.

“We might get a stern talking to when we get back,” Patton spoke in his own, normal voice. He gave Logan a weak smile. “But I think we’re in the clear.”

Logan frowned. It looked like he wanted to respond, but he didn’t get to.

“What are you all doing up so early?” Thomas yawned as he walked down the stairs. “It’s not even ten yet.” He wore the same outfit as yesterday; he hadn’t bothered to change.

Roman turned over his shoulder. “Wow, you look like crap.”

Virgil kicked his side.

“Thanks. I try.” Thomas gave a lazy smile and awkward finger guns.

“Breakfast is in the kitchen,” Patton said, eyes never leaving Thomas as he walked. “You might want to reheat it.”

He got a thumbs-up in response.

“You’re still banned from coffee, by the way,” Logan continued. As if to add insult to injury, he took a sip of his own coffee.

Thomas groaned loudly in response.

“Banned from coffee?” Roman inquired. “Why coffee?”

“He’s not responsible,” responded Logan and Patton. Though one sounded more distracted than the other.

The longer the two spent unfused, the less they talked at the same time. When they did, it came out more naturally rather than sounding like someone speaking through them. It may have been a sign of Picani being gone for so long, but it made conversations a lot less creepy.

After Thomas finished his breakfast, he flopped face down into the love seat. Patton and Logan had gone off to have a private discussion and Roman was in the kitchen cleaning out the coffee pot.

“I’m going to guess you didn’t sleep very well.” Virgil studied his hoodie as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. The stitch job was mediocre at best.

Thomas spoke, but it sounded like muffled noises.

“Right. Well, a breakdown like that often comes with side effects.”

Thomas turned his head to look at him. His eyes were more than one kind of tired. “It’s shit.”

Virgil blinked in surprise. He had never heard Thomas curse before. Part of him was convinced the world wouldn't have allowed him to do so. “Yeah. It is.”

God, he looked like a miserable kid. He was a miserable kid. Despite him being way older than Virgil, he was still a child by magic standards. He hadn’t even lived half his life expectancy, yet it looked like he had been through too much of it already. No kid should ever look like that. It made Virgil’s heart hurt.

“I’m still really sorry about everything. I shouldn't have done that.”

Thomas waved his hand. “S’fine. Deserved it.” He sighed. “Should have told you everything before.”

Virgil furrowed his brows. Uh. No. Absolutely not. That was an unacceptable answer. No depreciating reasoning allowed here in Virgil’s presence. He was the only one allowed to think lowly of himself. “Thomas, whatever is going through your head right now is a lie. You in no way deserved how I treated you.”

“That can be pretty hard to believe.”

“I get it.” Virgil was going to force positivity into this kid’s head one way or another. “But you didn’t do anything wrong. You did everything you were meant to and I forced it out of you when you weren’t ready. So if you say anything else about it being your fault then I’m going to physically fight you.”

Thomas snorted. “I don’t think that’ll help.”

“Yeah, but it might knock some sense into you.”

“A bit too literally, I think.” He smiled.

Virgil smiled back.

“You guys are cute,” Roman said from the kitchen. He was leaning over the bar with his head in his hand. His expression showed that he had been listening in the whole time. “Really makes my heart full.”

“I still have a needle here and I’m not afraid to use it.” Virgil turned to glare at him.

Roman held his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying.”

The two bickered back and forth with Thomas watching in amusement. For the most part, he kept his mouth shut and let the chaos unfold. They were arguing for the sake of arguing; their topics stemmed farther and farther away from the original one. Neither of them wanted to give the other the satisfaction of winning.

“Alright that’s enough,” Logan said as he walked in with Patton. “Stop talking, it’s time to listen.” He gave both Virgil and Roman a pointed look. As if they were children who shouldn’t have been left alone. “Patton and I decided, for no reason in particular --” Virgil felt as if that were aimed toward him somehow -- “that it might be best to step up your defenses in case of a less than ideal scenario.”

“So what does that mean?” Roman asked.

Logan paused. “I think it might be best if we showed you.”

The three followed Logan and Patton downstairs to the first floor. A floor that Roman and Virgil had yet to examine in full. They had no reason to go down there most of the time. All it held was a washroom and a few other extra rooms. Nothing special.

Patton and Logan stopped at the last door. They looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them, before Patton took out a key from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a bare room. No furniture or pictures or any other things of that sort. It was completely barren. A fresh new room that had yet to be touched.

“Just, uh,” Patton started. “Don’t stand near any walls.”

On instinct, all three of them moved more toward the center. Logan didn’t leave Patton’s side. He grabbed his hand. Patton placed his other hand on the wall and traced out a shape. For some reason, Virgil recognized it from one of his old star map books. A constellation. He couldn’t remember the name but remembered what it was supposed to be: the eagle.

Once Patton removed his hand, the wall did something weird. It shifted -- wobbled, even -- like a cartoon’s interpretation of quicksand. It spread and moved to the three other walls. As this happened, objects began to slide out from within the walls; indiscernible at first, but clear as day once the whole thing came into view.

“Holy crap,” Roman uttered.

Virgil had those exact sentiments. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this.

The walls solidified after pulling out an entire armory. Weapons were lined up in no discernable order with variants of things ranging from swords to staves. Some weren’t even weapons -- just everyday objects. Though Virgil had a feeling that might have been what they looked like on the outside; a facade for what they truly were. Magic seemed to really be into that whole pretending thing.

“So how long has this been here, exactly?” Thomas asked as he began to circle the room. “I mean we’ve been living here for like twenty years already -- how have I not seen this?”

“Because you weren’t supposed to,” Patton answered. “All of these items have some sort of magical property to them. So we keep them here so that no one can get hurt.” He looked around at all the walls. “This is everything we’ve collected over the years.”

“Collected?” Roman stopped studying a double-edged sword to turn toward Patton. “Why would you collect them?”

Patton sighed. “Oh, the usual. Got into the wrong hands, someone who doesn’t understand their use got a hold of them -- all those types of things.” He shrugged. “Anyway, the reason you’re here is to pick one.”

Apparently, that’s all Roman needed to hear before making a bee-line straight toward one of the walls.

Virgil didn’t budge from his spot in the middle of the room. “I don’t know how comfortable I am about handling any of these things.”

“Well if you learn how to handle them correctly then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about,” Logan sassed. “Trust us, Virgil, once you know what you’re doing it isn’t scary anymore.”

“Yeah -- Logan couldn’t even hold a dagger without feeling nervous,” Patton teased. It earned him a glare. “What? I was practically handed a longbow straight out of the womb. I never got scared of this stuff.”

“Yes, but I seem to recall you screaming when you saw me practice with a sword for the first time.” Logan crossed his arms

“I didn’t want you to get hurt!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. He decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and look around the room. He didn’t get too close to the walls, however. That anxious part of him was convinced that being close to them would hurt him somehow. It didn’t make much sense, then again, it didn’t have to. As long as it sounded scary then Virgil would listen to it.

There were many different weapon types. Some looked ordinary, others had a cliche magic aesthetic. Interesting. But nothing Virgil felt drawn to. Unlike Roman, who seemed to have his eyes set on a katana-like sword.

Virgil let him be in favor of examining all the different designs of the various weapon types. He let his eyes and body wander until he spotted something. Or rather, two somethings. Two matching daggers. Only one had a sheath, whereas the other showed off the blade. The handles were black. The blade was a deep purple with what resembled cracks of lightning etched into it and colored in with white. Something about them called his name. A soft whisper at the back of his mind.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at them, but he realized a conversation was happening next to him. He blinked out of his weird trance and tried to focus on Roman and Logan’s voices.

“It’s kind of like leveling up in a video game,” Logan explained for something. “The more you train with it, the more experience you gain. Gain enough of it, and the sword will get stronger.”

Roman stared at the katana in his hands. “I’m already sold.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “If you manage to gain enough experience with that then there might be a point where no one but you can wield it. It’s enchanted to get stronger with you.”

“You don’t even have to keep explaining it. I love it already.”

Virgil jumped when Patton’s voice came from beside him, “Did you find something you liked?”

“Jesus, Patton, warn a dude next time.” He put a hand to his chest.

“Sorry.” Patton gave him a sheepish grin. “I just noticed that you hadn’t really left this wall so I came to see what was up. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He gazed up at the wall. “So what caught your eye?”

Virgil hesitated. He didn’t know why, but he felt embarrassed about his choice. Like it wasn’t good enough or something. Sure, they seemed to have seen some use, but that didn’t make them any less cool looking. Without saying a word he pointed to the spot on the wall.

Patton followed his finger to the twin daggers. “Wow, really?” He stood on his tiptoes to reach them. When he pulled them from the wall, it rippled like a broken calm of water. “These things have been with us for a while. One of the sheaths might have got a bit -- um -- incinerated, but everything else is in good condition.” He smiled and handed them to Virgil.

Virgil didn't make a move to grab them. His instincts were telling him that sharp objects were bad, but something else insisted that he needed to hold them. He fought between the two until one came out victorious and he took the daggers from Patton. They were heavier than he anticipated. Still, the handles felt natural in his hands. “So what's so special about them?”

“We don't actually know.” Patton shrugged. “They passed the magic test, but we never figured out what they did. They never responded to us." He seemed to realize how awful that sounded to Virgil. "But they're not dangerous or anything. So don't worry about that.”

Of course. Mysterious magic daggers. Because he couldn't have chosen something with less unknown variables. “There's a chance they won't respond to me either, then?”

“Yup. Then they'd just be normal daggers.”

Slightly more comforting, but still nerve-wracking. They always could decide to respond to him, and then he’d have to learn how to deal with their magic in addition to trying to use them right. That wouldn’t have been pleasant. It was scary enough with two sharp objects -- he didn’t need magic thrown in the mix.

“Hey, Patton,” Thomas called. “What’s this?” He reached for a 1920s style headband on the wall. Braided black beads with white feathers. Elegant, yet simple. The back looked to have been snapped with the ends tied to stop any beads from falling.

Patton was over there in an instant. He seized Thomas’s wrist and yanked it away. “Don’t touch that,” he snapped.

Virgil and Thomas stared at him with wide eyes. They had never heard him so harsh before.

“Patton…?” Thomas asked hesitantly. He looked unsure on how to proceed.

Patton’s eyes widened. He let go of Thomas’s wrist. “Sorry, just --” He turned to the headband with an expression of disapproval. Unmistakable distaste for this random, broken object. He pushed it back into the wall with his finger. Once again, a ripple effect happened. “Bad memories.”

“It’s broken, anyway,” Logan muttered. He and Roman heard the whole thing. “It won’t form the weapon anymore.” He kept his eyes on the ground.

Virgil didn’t know if it was just him, but he felt tense. His whole body became heavy with an unknown pressure. Like a spring being held down in a tight coil without any sign of release.

“I’m going to head upstairs. Patton, you can continue doing, uh, this.” Logan waved his hand around the room. He left without waiting for a response, keeping his head down and holding tightly to his arms.

Patton frowned. “Thomas, please follow him.”

“Um, alright.” Thomas left after sharing a confused glance with Roman and Virgil.

Patton waited until he was completely out of the room before speaking again. “Sorry about that. It’s a bit of a touchy subject.” He shook his head and gave them a smile. They couldn't tell if it was fake or not.

“Let’s move on to another crucial part, and that is hiding your weapons.” He walked over to the wall by Roman and knelt down. He pulled at a section of the baseboard to reveal a compartment. It slid out like part of a drawer. Inside were various random objects ranging from belts to flowers. “You can’t exactly carry around weapons like that, so you have to have some way of keeping them out of sight.

"Neither of those has their own ways of doing it, so we’re going to have to choose an artificial way. It’s kind of like summoning it, actually.” He began digging through the various objects. “Whenever you’ll need it, you’ll have to call on it. How you do that will depend on what you get here.”

“Sounds magical,” Roman deadpanned. He looked down at the katana in his hands. The sheath had an intricate woven design. “Why are we doing this, anyway? I mean I’m all for swords and everything, but why now?”

Patton paused to look up at them. “It’s a lot easier to get rid of Figments this way. So if anything like last night happens again, you’ll be able to get out of it quicker.”

Virgil ignored Roman’s questioning gaze. “Uh, about last night, by the way. The Figment I saw didn’t look very modern. All the other ones I’ve seen looked like they were just ordinary people out on the street. This one looked like it wasn’t even in the right time period.”

“Sometimes that happens.” He went back to rooting through the drawer. “Altair has been doing this for a long while.”

“But why look like the last century? Wouldn't it be easier to blend in if they look modern?”

Patton stood up holding two woven bracelets. “Well think about it this way: if someone is killed at a certain time, do you think their ghost will change looks?” He gave a sad smile. “Can’t exactly change your style if you’ve never lived to see anything else.”

That was a bit depressing. And a harsh reminder. All Figments were alive at some point in time. A living, breathing person with dreams and ambitions. Everything that made them, well, them had been stripped out of their being. The one thing left was their outer shell -- their face without the personality.

“Anyway,” Patton walked up to Roman, “let me see that for a second.” He held out his hand for the katana, which Roman handed over without complaint. He took one of the matching bracelets and tied it around the hilt. “Hold out your hand.” Once Roman did so, he tied the other around his wrist. “Okay so as long as both you and the sword have these on then this should work.”

Roman stared at him. “What should work?”

Patton smiled. “Move it up toward your palm.”

Roman gave him a weird look before doing as instructed. He pushed it up so that it encircled his palm. As soon as he moved his thumb around it, the katana disappeared from Patton’s hand and into Roman’s. He yelped and almost dropped it. “What the fuck?!”

“Language,” Patton scolded, but his amusement was clear. “Now move it back to your wrist.”

Roman did so. The katana vanished from his hand and returned to Patton’s. “Okay, but what the fuck?” He gaped at the bracelet around his wrist. “How?”

“Magic,” Virgil teased.

“He’s not wrong.” Patton grinned. “As long as you have that, then that’s how long you’ll have this.” He held up the katana for emphasis. “It’ll return to the place you left it last so be sure not to leave it lying around.” He put it back up on the wall where it belonged.

Roman fidgeted with the bracelet. “I feel like I’ve been thrown into a fantasy novel.”

“You’re a few chapters behind on that revelation, pal,” Virgil quipped.

“Yours is going to be a little bit more difficult, Virgil,” Patton muttered. “Not many of these things were made for dual weapons.” He studied the daggers. “I’ll keep looking.” He went back to the drawer.

Virgil watched as Roman continued to mess with his bracelet; moving it up and down to have his katana appear and reappear in his hand. As Patton said, it returned to the last place it was left, which in this case was the wall. It made Virgil nervous to see a dangerous object move around so much. He put a hand on Roman’s wrist to keep him from playing with it.

Roman pouted and pulled his wrist away.

“Hey, Virgil,” Patton called. “By any chance have you read Percy Jackson?”

Virgil furrowed his brows. “Um, not recently. Why?” He kind of felt nervous about getting asked this.

Patton turned around with a sly grin and held up two pens. “Because we’re going to make you your own Riptide.”

He explained that it would take some time to get them to work. Without Logan to help, enchanting them to do what they were meant to would be difficult. It would be the same basic concept as Roman’s bracelet, but it had to be “programmed” to respond to the daggers.

It was a lot of magic mumbo jumbo that Virgil tried to understand but decided he shouldn’t think so hard about. It was magic. That’s all he needed to know. Magic would always be the simple answer to half of these weird occurrences.

The three walked back up to the second floor. They saw Thomas and Logan sitting at the breakfast bar. Logan had a soft smile while Thomas snickered quietly like he had been told a secret. Whatever happened earlier must have passed. They both seemed content.

“You doing okay?” Patton asked.

“Yep,” Thomas answered with a bright smile. “Everything’s good.”

Logan nodded.

Before Patton could come up with a response, Thomas slid off the stool and asked, “Can you take me Greenflower? Logan doesn’t wanna drive and I kinda have a platonic friend date to catch.”

“Oh, um,” Patton’s eyes lingered on Logan for a moment or two before turning them to Thomas. “Yeah, sure, just let me put these down.” He left down the hall.

Thomas waited until he was out of sight to turn to Logan and whisper something to him. It made him snort and clamp a hand over his mouth. “Thomas,” his voice tried to come out stern, but he sounded too amused. “Don’t say that. It’s not funny.”

“It made you laugh.” Thomas grinned. “That means it’s hilarious.”

Patton and Thomas left shortly after. Which meant that Roman, Virgil, and Logan would be alone for a bit. Roman decided to watch Netflix and offered the other two to join. Virgil agreed as long as he got to pick something that wouldn’t be Parks and Rec again. That had been re-watched far too many times since the move-in. Logan declined, though he stayed at the breakfast bar.

Virgil tried to scroll through Netflix in peace, but anytime he chose something, Roman had to make some snide remark about it. They couldn’t come to an agreement. So in the end, Virgil decided to ignore anything Roman said and put on Merlin. It was a good show and one Virgil had been meaning to watch again. The first time he ever watched it was after the series had ended a little over six years ago. Yeah, that warranted a re-watch.

To Virgil’s surprise, Roman had never seen it before. Which was weird. A show about sorcerers, knights, and royalty? That seemed right up his alley. One would think that a guy so focused on fantasy would have watched this classic at least once. He seemed like he would be up for anything in the fantasy genre in general.

Virgil might have been correct on his assumptions, because before the end of the first episode, Roman was already hooked. He couldn’t get over how non-heterosexual Merlin and Arthur’s fight scene was. And Virgil had to admit that scene was a lot gayer than he remembered. Like a lot gayer. There wasn’t one heterosexual line during their whole exchange. How that managed to slip by him during his first watch, he had no idea.

As the second episode started, Virgil happened to tilt his head back as he stretched. He spotted Logan trying to subtly watch the show. “You know if you wanna join us you can.” He smirked and turned so that his arm was thrown over the back of the sofa. “We're not gonna stop you.”

The corner of Logan's mouth twitched down. Perhaps he didn't like getting caught. “As lovely as that sounds, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline.” He snapped his notebook shut. “There are more important things I should be doing.” He tucked it under his arm and stood up from the stool. “And I'm not sure if I want to keep hearing you discuss a nonexistent romantic relationship between two fictional characters.”

“They're in love,” Roman insisted. “They just don't know it yet.”

Logan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself, man.” Virgil shrugged and returned to his position. “You'll miss out on all the subtext.”

“I think I can live with that.”

He probably could. But part of the fun was hearing Roman point out every possible double meaning. It entertained Virgil, that's for sure. Getting through all five seasons would be great as Merlin and Arthur's relationship grew stronger. He couldn't wait for it to break Roman's heart.

There were only a few seconds of TV sounds before Virgil heard Logan gasp. A sharp, deep sound that often came hand-in-hand with pain. Then a fluttering of pages as the notebook fell to the floor.

“Logan?” Virgil turned to look at him. He shot up in an instant. “Logan?!” He ran around to the other side of the sofa.

Logan hunched over himself, holding his left arm to his chest, but that couldn't hide anything. His forearm -- and even his hand -- began to shift in color. A rapid movement of inky blackness just beneath his skin. It rolled around like harsh waves of an unforgiving sea. Then, in a fraction of a second, a glitch. A sharp flash of something that couldn't be. Something that shouldn't be. Sections of Logan's arm turned into a dark, smoky cloud. But put itself back together just as fast. All the ink moved in one swift slide to Logan's wrist, forming a black band. And it was gone. Faded back underneath his skin with no sign of it having been there at all.

Logan straightened out and rubbed his wrist. He didn't look all that shaken up. Unnerved, yes, but also a little annoyed. Like this had happened before.

“What the fuck,” Virgil muttered. “Are you alright? What the hell just happened to you?”

“I'm fine.” He stretched out his fingers and moved every one. Virgil noticed how his whole hand trembled. “Just a minor inconvenience.”

“Minor?” Both Roman and Virgil exclaimed. “That was a whole ordeal,” Roman added.

“It wasn't anything.” Logan picked up his notebook. “I'm fine. I haven't keeled over. Everything is okay.” He stared at the cover. “Don't tell Patton.”

Virgil almost imploded. “Logan, what the fuck?” He put his hands in his hair. “What do you mean don't tell Patton? This seems like something he should know -- has this happened before? Have you not told him?”

Logan glared at Virgil. “It isn't consistent. As far as Patton knows this only happened once.”

“And how many times has it actually happened?”

This made Logan lose his glare. He went back to staring at the front cover of his notebook with a somewhat guilty expression. “This is the third time.”

Virgil was going to have a heart attack.

“Logan, this seems serious,” Roman took over. “You shouldn't keep something like this from him. Whatever is happening to you, he deserves to know.”

“I can't.” Logan screwed his eyes shut. “I just --” He sighed. “Not right now. It isn't an issue. He'll know whenever he needs to.”

“You mean when you can't hide it anymore,” Virgil snapped.

Logan sent him another glare, though this one didn't have much edge. A sign Virgil was right. He sighed again and put his free hand to his forehead. “I'm going to lie down. Please do not tell Patton any of this happened. I don't want him to freak out over it.”

Virgil threw his hands up. “Fine. Whatever.” His funeral.

“I think this is a bad idea,” Roman frowned, “but I won't go against your wishes.”

“Thank you,” Logan murmured. He walked down the hall to his room.

Roman and Virgil stayed in silence. Somewhere along the line, the show had been paused. A scene frozen and waited to be returned to.

Virgil rubbed his face. “God, I need a nap.”

“Does that mean I can continue watching Merlin without you?”

“Absolutely not.”

(Next)

#sanders sides #body horror tw #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logicality #platonic prinxiety #coinverse

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theoddcatlady · 7 years

Text

The Best Prey

I always wanted to make my dad proud.

My dad was what people would consider a man's man. Had a lot of big guns and a lot of animal heads up on the walls. He was really proud of the ten point buck he nailed when I was three. He even bragged about one day having the funds to go to Africa and nail some of the big game over there.

And of course, with that tiny little wife of his, he wanted to have a son to take with him.

Of course things don't work out like that. After a complicated pregnancy and birth, he had no wife and a tiny little daughter.

He remarried of course, he had to get that little son to follow in his footsteps and to take to Africa. She gave dad two more daughters (Abby and Layla) and one son (Benjamin). My sisters were dolls and ribbons girls. My brother loved theater and dance, my father called him a sissy.

Meanwhile I was the one toting my father's gun and following him into the forest every time it was hunting season.

Oh he tried to get Benjamin to like hunting. Took him every chance he got, at least at first. He'd always have to end up coming home early with a sick Benjamin who couldn't stand the sight of blood. In the end, he was stuck with me.

I liked ribbons in my hair too, and wearing pretty skirts and dresses, but the moment it came time to go out with my dad I became a whole new girl. I was right on his heels, toting his rifle and skipping with joy. I was the perfect hunting companion. I would stay perfectly quiet. I didn't complain about being cold or bored. The sound of the gunshot didn't phase me. Nor did the sight of blood.

But that wasn't enough for my dad. He wanted a son, a real man's man like himself. When I was thirteen it truly occurred to me that nothing I could do at that time would change this.

We were with his friends, at one of their cabins. It was a blast the first day. My dad bagged another deer. I'd made friends with the other two boys there, Archie who was my age and Kent who was two years older. They were great, we played card games and talked about how lucky it was we could get out of school. Then I felt my stomach start to hurt. I excused myself and went to the bathroom.

I'd started my first period. And had already bled through my pants.

In serious embarrassment I just kept hiding in the bathroom until Kent knocked on the door.

"Beth? You left blood on the floor. I managed to lie to Archie about it but are you on your period?"

I blushed so hard my face almost stuck like that. "... Yeah. I've never had one before," I replied.

"'ts okay. I got a twin sister. I'll go get your dad and he'll run into town and get what you need!"

That was a relief. However, that is not how things worked with me.

My dad burst into the bathroom, red with rage and smelling like beer. "You didn't tell me you were on your fucking period!" He snapped.

Instant tears. I wasn't much of a crier, but I was already freaked out. "I didn't know! I didn't have one before!" I tried to explain.

He slapped me across the face.

"We're leaving. After you clean up the fucking mess you left on the floor."

Still with stained pants, with no way to clean myself up, I scrubbed the blood from the floor before I was dragged into the car and given a rag towel to sit on. He threatened that if I bled through the towel before we got home I was going to get my ass whipped.

Thank god I didn't.

It became clear to me that night that just based on the fact I had periods and wouldn't ever be his boy, I wouldn't ever meet his standards.

So of course I laid plans to meet those standards.

I kept going hunting with him, but insisted on learning to shoot for myself. He sneered whenever I missed and barely acknowledged when I hit, but damn if I wasn't stubborn. Kent and Archie became my best friends. Kent revealed tricks of the trade my father didn't bother to teach me, and soon I was going on hunting trips with Archie's family. Archie's dad was jovial, never got mad at a thing. He even gave me my first beer when I was fifteen. I felt more welcome there than my own home.

When I was eighteen I scraped together money and together with Archie and Kent, we went on our own hunting trip.

Archie's family bankrolled our first trip, and I bagged a twelve point buck. Made the local papers and everything with me posing next to the beauty, in a bright orange jacket two sizes too large and pink lipstick.

On my twenty fifth birthday I called my father for the first time since I'd left, and invited him over.

Archie let him into my home, which Kent had teasingly dubbed 'The Manor'. We all lived there together, with a collection I knew would finally impress my father.

My dad walked into the living room, where I was enjoying a glass of wine with my son playing on my lap. My dad looked at him in confusion. I smiled.

"He's a year old now. His name's Ricky. Say hi to Grandpa, Ricky!" I pointed to my flabbergasted father. Ricky waved before clinging to my chest. I laughed and kissed his head before Kent came in and took him away. "Kent's his father. Well, let's get to why you're here, right?"

"Is it to meet the grandson I didn't know I had?" My father said, still in shock over seeing Ricky.

I laughed again.

"Oh no! I want to show you something.”

We walked down the hall. Horns of bucks hung on the walls, along with their heads. Their glass eyes were so real my dad did a double take.

"Deer hunting's taken the back burner now, but it's how I got my start! Why I have so many." I shook my head as I paused by the head of a moose. "I always thought moose were smaller than they actually were. Maybe because I never saw one in person?"

My dad never bagged a moose. I could see he was jealous. I smirked and kept on walking. "Of course, I have to step up my game. I was called about a mountain lion that had gone completely bonkers and was stalking humans and killing their pets. So three, four years ago I took care of that." We turned the corner and there was the mountain lion, posed perfectly. My dad nearly jumped out of his skin, and I saw it. The glimmer of approval I'd been searching for my whole life. "He's a beauty, ain't he daddy?"

He nodded. "How many shots did it take?" He asked, walking down the permanently frozen creature.

"Three. He was mad, but it wasn't his fault. I think there was something wrong with his brain. Beautiful creature." I kept on walking. "But I found something way more satisfying. Now, you can't tell Momma or anyone about what's past this door, all right?"

My dad looked confused, but I just grinned and removed a key from around my neck as we went to the door at the end of the hall. "See, I love animals. But seeing them frozen stopped... doing anything for me. You understand."

I unlocked the door and we walked into the Zoo.

Wolves ran to the front of the enclosure nearest to us. I laughed and went to my knees. "Hello, babies! Hello! I'm here!" I cooed.

They paced around and panted at me. Perfect babies. My dad was white with shock. I stood and turned.

"I'd found an orphaned litter. They know to answer to me only. I'm having trouble getting new blood to breed in, but I'm in contact with a guy from Canada. Soon I'll have puppies!" I hugged myself. "Gotta admit, that's impressive, isn't it?"

My dad was struck dumb. Exactly how I wanted him. I laughed and kept on walking. A lynx glared from the corner of another pen. A few raccoons chittered at me from a tree. I threw them peanuts. "It took a lot of work to get some of these guys, don't get me wrong. And they're all well taken care of, each having pens that lead to the outdoors. It's expensive, but I have someone... fund my mini zoo." Several someones, actually.

"How the hell'd you get that deal?" He murmured.

"By finding something so valuable that people pay millions just to see."

We'd reached the other end of the hall. I took a second key from my pocket and unlocked this door. "After you," I gestured him forward.

Now this dark room had no pens leading to the outdoors. But it had something that I knew would impress my father, for sure. Something no one else had.

My father went to the tank and I was sure he was about to faint.

A woman swam forward, pounding angrily on the glass. Her razor sharp green tail flicked and flashed in our direction, the poisonous barbs on her flukes fully extended.

"What..." My father swallowed. "... What is that?"

I giggled and set my hand on the tank. The woman swiped at it irritably. "It's a mermaid! Isn't she pretty? I'd gotten her by accident, really. She's too stupid to know she wouldn't survive out there any longer anyway. See?" I pointed to the fins on the right of her tail. They were maimed, scar tissue spreading over her tail. "I'd done that by accident. Hit her with my boat. She's not even the main attraction!" I hit the lights.

My dad had to sit down on the ground.

Satyrs fled to the corners of their cages, covering their heads. Phoenixes squawked and beat the bars of their cages with their wings. My one Minotaur pawed at the ground and snorted. And that wasn't even close to everything inside.

"Do you like it?" I whispered, helping my father to his legs. I had to support him. The man was unable to move.

"It's... It's..." He looked around. "... It's beautiful," He finally admitted.

I squealed. "Daddy! You really think I'm a good hunter?" I asked.

He nodded, and I finally felt fulfilled. I'd accomplished all I wanted to. No catch could best that.

"You know what, daddy?"

I kicked a brick on the side of the wall, and a trap door flopped open.

"The best prey ain't even in Africa."

I pushed him in. I heard the snap of a broken leg and his screams of agony. I peered down to make sure he wasn’t trying to get back up.

My dad was shocked, and confused. Then something hissed from the shadows.

A gray beast, naked and horned, crawled into sight. My dad looked up at me, realization finally dawning upon him.

I laughed one last time, this one cruel and filled with hate, and gave one final wave.

"Best prey's American! And his people were the first Americans! Enjoy dinner with him!"

I slammed the door shut to block out the worst of my father's pained howls.

My father had finally done something worthwhile for me. Bought me the weeks I'd need before I could find a buyer for a Wendigo.

#scary stories #horror stories #sixpenceee #sixpenceee stories #my stories

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