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tarrevizsla · 3 years

Note

tarre and aster, tending an injury?

thanks for the prompt!

throw your fear upon the pyre (and let it rise as something new) | 1.4k words | read on ao3

The second Tarre finishes their broadcast and the comms shut off, they slump back in their chair. The burns they had managed to ignore for a few minutes make themselves known again. They inhale sharply as the back of their armor digs into the burn below their ribs, their breath stuttering in the middle of giving orders. Aster notices, as she always does. Wordlessly, she takes the moment to dismiss the warriors still gathered in the throne room and sends them off to secure the rest of the building.

Tarre clenches their fist and digs their fingers into their palm, standing even though it sends a jolt of pain through their stomach. They can handle this. They turn to leave the room, but Aster is there behind them, tapping their arm and stopping them in their tracks.

“I need to treat your injuries,” she says, lifting the medpack she always carries. “I saw the kind of fire you took in that fight. Even beskar won’t be enough to protect from that.” Tarre sighs, and Aster takes that as a go-ahead, reaching up to their face and pulling Mandalore’s Mask from their buy’ce, revealing tired gold eyes and blood trickling over their lips.

“It’s fine,” Tarre says. “I’ve taken worse hits - did I ever tell you about-” They’re cut off as Aster pokes at one of their shoulders, where she had seen a blaster bolt hit earlier. Her face makes it clear that she doubts what Tarre’s saying, her forehead contorted to make it clear that if she had eyebrows she would be raising them.

“I’m a doctor,” she says. “I’ll tell you if you’re fine. Come with me.” She takes one of Tarre’s arms and leads them out of the room, remembering where the last Mand’alor had her treat xer injuries. It’s been almost two years since Aster has been back in this building, but her feet remember the path even if she doesn’t.

Tarre twitches their fingers and the door Aster’s pointing them at opens, revealing a sparse but well-equipped medbay. Aster turns to scold Tarre for using the Force when they’re clearly exhausted, but they’re already limping forward to sit on one of the benches in the room. She catches them before they lower their weight fully, tugging at the armor still strapped to their shoulders. “We need to get these off,” she says, pulling the magnetized plates off their shoulders.

Tarre lifts their hands to pull off their helmet, letting short black hair tumble down. It’s just long enough to brush their chin. They set it on the bench beside them with a thud and lean forward to unlace their boots. When they stand, Aster is there to take their backplate, setting it carefully next to their helmet. With their back exposed, Tarre is suddenly painfully aware of the delicate situation they’re in. They’re a new Mand’alor, just having taken the throne. They weren’t popular before this battle, and they certainly won’t be popular now - an ex-Jedi ruling Mandalore, it’s unheard of.

Tarre tenses at the thought, the realization of how unsteady their position here is. Their fingers curl into a handful of their undersuit and their breath picks up and -

Aster runs a hand down their spine and rests her head on the dip between their shoulders, and for a moment she just breathes with them, waits until their heart is beating slow and steady again - and Tarre hadn’t even noticed it picking up - until the tension moves out of their shoulders and back and Aster can guide them down to the bench. It seems like she doesn’t want to stop touching them. She drags her hand up their neck to cup their chin for a brief moment, and Tarre flushes under her dark eyes.

They glance away and the moment breaks, Aster coming back to herself and working to pull their chestplate off. It reveals a tattered, bloody mess of an undersuit, and Tarre doesn’t even want to consider what they look like under the kute.

Aster tugs on the back of the collar of their undersuit. “We need to get this off too,” she says softly. Tarre rolls their shoulders and tries to hide their wince. If Aster notices, she doesn’t comment on it, turning aside to pull gauze and disinfectant out of her medpack. It takes a few seconds for Tarre to realize that she’s doing it partially to give them their privacy, and they don’t understand why - it’s not like she’s going to do this with her eyes closed.

With a deep breath, Tarre begins to strip out of the undersuit, wincing as it drags over open wounds. They have the top resting above their hips by the time Aster turns around, and her eyes widen as she takes in the patchwork of wounds that decorates their back. The burns are the worst, of course - the lightning they had summoned in that moment left its mark, and Tarre’s nerves will never be the same.

But there are other scars there too, old scars, that Aster has never seen before. The ridge running up their spine - what must be a remnant of their Taung blood - is what stands out at first, but under the blood Aster can see old blaster marks, long thin burns, and what must have been a vibroblade digging into flesh. She unlatches the gauntlets around her forearms and pulls them off, setting them to the side with the clank of metal on metal. Her gloves come off next and Aster washes her hands with some kind of disinfectant.

Tarre shifts as she prepares a kolto patch, which proves to be a mistake - the pain had gotten worse while they were seated, and even that shift is enough to make their vision go black. Pain is hard to predict.

When Tarre comes back to themself, Aster is already cleaning their wounds, and the sudden sting of disinfectant hits hard enough to make them dig their fingers into the muscle of their legs. Aster carefully lays a kolto bandage across the longest of the clean wounds, and Tarre can already feel the scars forming as the kolto does its work. Kolto won’t wipe every trace of battle away, and frankly Tarre - like most Mandalorians - wouldn’t want it to. They value their scars. Reminders of what they’ve survived.

Tarre hisses as Aster wraps another long kolto patch around their back and shoulders, tying it off with nimble fingers. She keeps moving along their body, cleaning each wound with some sort of disinfectant spray that stings more painfully than the injuries themselves. Tarre's weight drops onto their elbows, hunched over onto and supported by their knees to give Aster room to work. Her physician's fingers work carefully, and Tarre can't help but feel goosebumps every time she brushes a hand along their back or down their arm.

"I told you, I'm fine," they complain, leaning away from Aster's hands. The long lightning burn down their arm twinges, but they grit their teeth and don't react to it. All of their important wounds have healed already. "This isn't that big of a deal."

"Yes, it is." Aster grabs their uninjured shoulder - the one that doesn't have a blaster wound scorched into it - and pulls them back towards her. Tarre goes along grudgingly. "You could have died!"

"In the pursuit of justice. It would be an honorable death." They shudder as Aster dabs cold salve onto the blaster burn. Tarre has to admit that it feels better than before. “There are worse ways to die. And worse things to die for.”

"Even if you value your life so little, the people need you, Mandalore!" I need you, she doesn't say. Suddenly, Aster can’t make eye contact. "You have a duty to this planet - to your people-" to me.

"They need a Mandalore. They don't need me."

"You are Mandalore. There's nobody else."

“Fine. I’ll be your Mandalore," Tarre says. They shift as they speak, rising to their feet and turning to pick up their beskar’gam.

"It's what Ran Keldau would have wanted," Aster says, not quite taunting.

"Ran Keldau is dead," Tarre says. "I have no oaths to xem any longer. This is not xer throne." They look back at their beskar as though it's the entire world lying at their feet. Slowly, softly, they begin to layer it on. Tarre catches the look in Aster's eye. "You do not need to feign pity for me now that I'm Mandalore," they say.

"I'm not! You're important to me. I care about you, Tarre," Aster finally admits as they turn around. "Not because you're Mandalore, because you're - you. I need you to stay alive. Promise me.”

Tarre turns towards her again. Their golden eyes look oddly wet. Aster takes a step towards them to close the gap.

Tarre takes her hand. “I promise.”

#my writing #my fic #vaityadil #tarre vizsla #tarre and aster #aster

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wwoww-au · 4 years

Text

Shadow

Dark sat in one of the chairs outside of Abe’s office, nervously wringing their cane. They didn’t know why the department head had called them in for a meeting, but it had to be serious. They only ever stopped into his office for things in regard to the Warfstache case, and with the trail running cold they were anxious to get back to their own work.

“Oh great, it’s you.”

The sound of Mare’s voice made Dark’s head snap up.

“I could say the same thing,” Dark huffed. “Abe called you here too?”

“No, we meet every Tuesday for tea and biscuits,” Mare snarked. He grabbed the chair next to Dark and placed it farther down the wall before sitting down. A moment later he pulled out a cell phone and began typing quickly.

Good. Dark didn’t want to talk to him, either.

What felt like several minutes passed before the door to Abe’s office opened. Their boss smiled tensely at both detectives as they stood almost simultaneously.

“Sorry you had to wait,” Abe said politely, holding the door open.

“It’s fi—”

Dark was cut off by Mare shoving past them, almost pushing them back into their chair. “Whatever,” Mare grumbled. “This better be good. I’ve got a lead waiting for me in my office.”

Abe smiled apologetically at Dark as they both followed Mare into the office. The department head let the two detectives take their seats in front of his desk before closing the door and taking his own.

"I take it you two are wondering why I called you here," said Abe, shuffling a few files lying on his desk. "Dark, the Wizard Committee has had growing concerns over your lack of success when it comes to the Warfstache case. So they've come to the decision to-"

"Oh, I know where this is going," Mare cut in with a smug grin. "The Committee's finally come to their senses and transferred the case over to me."

"No, that's not it." Abe sighed as if he was bracing for something. "Dark, the Committee thinks it's best if you get more experience in the field. You will be shadowing Mare for a day, starting tomorrow."

"What?!" both detectives cried out at the same time.

"I am not spending the day with him!" Dark protested through gritted teeth. "I don't need more experience. Abe, please."

"You can't do this!" Mare slammed his hands on the desk.

"I'm sorry." Abe rubbed his temples. "I know you don't like each other, but it's out of my hands. The Committee wants Dark to learn from our best detective, and that's you, Mare. So can you two please just try and get along for one day?"

"Fine." Mare glared at Dark. "But you better not get in the way." With that, he stormed out of the office, loudly slamming the door behind him. For a moment, it was silent in the office.

"This is going to be awful," Dark groaned. Why couldn’t the Committee have stuck them with some other detective? Mare already made things miserable for Dark. He was sure to be even worse when they were forced to work together for a whole day.

"I know. I really am sorry,” Abe said. “I wish there was something I could do. Just-- just let me know if anything goes wrong.” He gave Dark another apologetic look.

The next day, Dark stood outside of Mare's office. They took a moment to collect themself before knocking on the door.

"It's open," Mare called from inside. Dark took one step into the office before something small and white darted in front of their legs, making them stumble over.

Mare jumped up from behind his desk, running over. "Oh my wizard god, are you okay?!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dark grumbled.

"What? I wasn't talking to you." Mare bent over and picked up the small creature, a little white fox. One of its legs was wrapped in a pink cast. He cuddled it to his chest and spoke in a high pitched voice. "Are you okay, Mangle? Did the mean person hurt you?"

Dark stared in disbelief. "Why the hell do you have a fox in your office?"

Mare simply ignored Dark, continuing to coo over Mangle as he walked over to a large plush pet bed in the back left corner of the room. He gently placed the fox in the bed, quietly humming and stroking its head until it relaxed into the soft cushion.

“Her name is Mangle,” Mare finally answered, his voice barely above a whisper. “She usually stays at home, but she sprained her paw last week, so I’ve been watching her here. I doubt Abe would be willing to let me take time off to watch her at home.” He scoffed after his final remark before glancing back down at Mangle. His gaze softened for a moment.

“I’m sorry, you have a pet fox?” Dark asked incredulously. They hardly saw Mare as the kind of person to care for anything, much less an animal.

Mare’s gaze hardened again as he made eye contact with Dark. “Yeah, but that’s not why we’re here.” He gave Mangle one last pat on the head before walking back to his desk. He picked up a thin file and tossed it at Dark. They barely managed to catch it before Mare was pushing past them out the door.

Mare stormed down the hallways of the Crime Department, leaving Dark to jog after him and read the file. "'Zachary Calls'," they read out loud. "'Mundane magician who became a wizard after making a deal with-' huh, the name's crossed out. 'Corrupted, approach with caution'. Poor guy."

"He made his choice," Mare spat. "It was his decision to mess with magic, and now he's paying the price. Why do you care?"

Dark silently closed the file. "No reason."

Mare pushed the doors of the Department building open, but only enough for him to slide through, letting the doors close directly in Dark’s face. Dark pushed against the doors, but they only budged slightly. They could just see Mare on the other side, leaning his back against the doors, and keeping Dark inside.

“Come on, Mare,” Dark huffed, leaning heavily against the door. “Just let me out and stop wasting time.” Mare only laughed in response.

Alright. If that was the game Mare was going to play, then so be it.

Dark took several steps away from the doors, then ran towards them at full tilt, leading with their shoulder. If Mare wasn’t going to move, they’d make him.

However, instead of being met with resistance as they had before, the doors now opened easily, and Dark was unable to slow their trajectory as they flew out the Department doors and went tumbling down the few stone steps. They lay at the bottom of the stairs, seething and sore, while somewhere above them, Mare continued to laugh.

"Alright, get up," he managed between laughs. "You're wasting time."

Mare didn’t wait for Dark as they hurried to pick up their cane and the papers that had flown out of the case file. They were about to stuff the last piece of paper back into the file when they noticed something they hadn’t before. They pulled the paper back out and read it over as they walked to where Mare’s car was parked. Most of the information was redacted, but it appeared to be a criminal profile. There was only one line Dark could actually read.

“‘Extremely dangerous. Do not approach,’” they read aloud. They looked over the photo in the top right of the page. A blurry hand rested on a long black cane with a clear orb on top, clasped by two clawed fingers.

“You ready to go yet?” Mare asked, leaning out the drivers’ window of his car. “Or do you need me to open the car door for you too?”

Dark considered answering yes, but decided that that would only make things worse. They moved to open the passenger door when they heard Mare shout, causing them to yank their hand away from the handle.

“I didn’t say you could sit up front, rookie,” Mare snapped. “Babies sit in the back of the car.”

“I’m not a baby,” Dark grumbled bitterly, opening the back door and sliding into their seat.

“Please, you’re hardly thirty,” Mare laughed. “You’re barely an adult.”

“Yeah, well, how old are you?” Dark countered. Mare had to be younger than them, at least by a couple years. He looked like he could be a college student.

“One hundred and seventy-four,” Mare answered smugly. “Older than you.”

Dark huffed and slid down their seat as far as they could. Some people’s ages were just impossible to guess, as their bodies generally slowed down aging in their twenties to thirties. Someone could look 25 and be nearly 200. A wizard in their 300s would hardly look older than 40.

Dark boredly picked strands of white fur off of the seat next to them as Mare drove. A couple minutes into the drive, Mare slid a rock CD into the car stereo. They didn’t pay much attention to the words, but the more they listened, the more familiar the voice sounded.

“Did you sing this?” Dark asked, sitting up slightly.

“Yeah, dumbass,” Mare answered, glancing back in the rearview mirror. “Did you forget I’m a music wizard?”

“No, I just-- never mind,” Dark mumbled, leaning back again. Between hunting down Warfstache and studying magic, they hardly knew any of their coworkers. They were sure they’d been told at one point Mare’s specialty, and they’d heard music coming from his office countless times, but they’d never bothered to really listen. It was, admittedly, rather good. Not that they’d tell Mare that. He’d just find some way to mock them for it.

“Hey, I said we’re here,” Mare barked, startling Dark into sitting up. “Are you always this absentminded? No wonder you haven’t caught Warfstache yet.”

“That’s not-” Dark’s retort was cut off by Mare’s door slamming shut.

Dark stepped out of the car, gripping their cane tightly as a cold wind rushed past.

The apartment was obviously not well maintained. Ivy crept up the sides, covering almost the whole bottom half of the building. Paint was chipping off in multiple places, revealing the crumbling brick underneath. The bushes in front of the apartment were unmaintained and threatened to overtake the sidewalk. The windows were barred, like some kind of old prison, and a few of them were cracked.

Dark ascended the steps carefully, sure that the stone would crumble under their feet at any second. The rusted railing didn’t bolster their confidence much either. The wooden door was clearly rotting, and creaked painfully loudly as Mare pushed it open.

Mare was glaring back at Dark, opening his mouth to talk when something fell upstairs, making a loud crash. Mare’s microphone was in his hand in an instant, wire crackling with navy blue energy.

“He knows we’re here,” Mare muttered, glaring at Dark as if it was their fault. “Wait here. Cut him off if he tries to escape.”

The gravity in Mare’s voice shocked Dark, and they only nodded in response, backing up against the door with their cane in both hands. A door slammed upstairs, making Mare and Dark both look up.

“If you screw this up,” Mare threatened, glaring back down at Dark, “they’re not gonna find a body to hand the pink slip to.”

Not waiting for a response, Mare left Dark standing at the door, quietly scaling the stairs himself. Dark listened anxiously, wringing their cane in their hands. They froze when they heard another door slam, and after a moment’s hesitation, ran up the stairs.

Mare was cursing at a door as he ran his hands over it, his blue energy mixing slightly with the sickly shade of orange magically covering the door. His eyes landed on Dark, and his face twisted into a scowl.

“What is that?” Dark asked, glancing at the door.

“It’s a door, dipshit.”

“No, I-- the stuff covering the door.”

“Glitch magic,” Mare answered, taking a step away from the door. “A lot of Mundanes-turned-wizards get it. Usually when they mess with a core type that isn’t theirs.” He spat at the bottom of the door. “It’s disgusting.”

Dark shuffled uncomfortably on their feet. “Can I see?”

Mare huffed and stepped farther away from the door. “Be my guest.”

Dark took Mare’s place in front of the door and began running their hands over it, as they had seen him do. It felt like static electricity against their palms. When they tried to grab the doorknob, it felt hot, like there was a fire on the other side. They pulled their hand away as quickly as possible, but it still came away red.

"Alright, move aside, Dark," Mare spat, taking his microphone off of his belt again. "I'm gonna break down the door."

"Wait," Dark said, holding a hand out in front of the other man. "Let me talk to him first."

Mare stared at them before rolling his eyes. "Whatever."

Dark turned to the door and spoke gently, "Hey, Zachary, right? Look, I understand how you feel right now. Finding out magic exists, and then the next thing you know you have powers you can't control and you're lost in a world that doesn't make sense anymore. It's overwhelming. I’m-- we’re gonna help you, okay? You just gotta let us in. It’s gonna be okay. Just take the lock off the door.”

Almost instantly, the glitch magic covering the door faded. The door opened slightly.

“You’re really gonna help me?” a shaky voice asked quietly, barely loud enough for Dark to hear.

“Promise,” Dark said gently.

The door finally opened all the way.

Standing on the opposite side of the door was Zachary Calls. He looked as terrified as he’d sounded, eyes wide, soot-covered hands holding tightly onto a Mundane magician’s wand. His black hair was messy, clearly having gone a while without being washed. Going along with the wand in his hand, Zachary’s outfit appeared to be that of a Mundane magician’s as well. The black suit and cape were clearly dirty, and the edge of the cape appeared to be slightly burnt.

He gave Dark a slight smile, dark brown eyes lighting up, and stepped across the threshold.

“Thank y--” Zachary’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed forwards into Dark’s arms. They froze briefly before swinging their head to look at Mare.

The music wizard swung his microphone confidently as the last of the spell he’d cast faded into its wire.

“Good job, Dark,” Mare said, clapping a hand on their shoulder. “Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”

Dark sputtered with rage as they adjusted Zachary’s unconscious form in their arms. “Y-you-- why I-- you didn’t have to do that!” They shrugged Mare’s hand off of their shoulder and glared up at him. “He was going to come along peacefully!”

Mare snorted. “They always start out that way,” he began, shaking his head condescendingly. “Trust me, if I hadn’t knocked him out, he would have exploded at us halfway down the stairs and run off. Corrupted wizards are dangerous creatures, Dark. You should learn that now, before it gets you hurt.”

Dark was still fuming as they followed Mare back outside, still carrying Zachary in their arms. He looked almost peaceful, and Dark felt a pang of guilt as they gently buckled him in, opting to sit in the back and keep a careful eye on him than deal with Mare in the front. It was their fault now. They’d promised to help him, and then as soon as he’d let them in, Mare had ruined everything.

Once the car started moving, Dark kept their attention to Zachary. At one point in the ride Mare made a violent turn around a corner, causing the magician's unconscious form to slump over into Dark's lap. They ended up just leaving him there; it was easier than constantly having to prop him up against the door.

Eventually the car abruptly stopped. Dark looked up from Zachary to see a rundown warehouse looming above them just outside the window. Peeling grey paint, several shattered windows, and a door locked with rusted chains made it apparent it had been abandoned for decades.

"This isn't the Department," Dark said cautiously.

"That's the first decent observation you've made all day," Mare huffed as he got out of his car and walked to the back. "Now, if you would please stop cuddling with the criminal." He yanked Zachary from the car, dragging him to his feet as he just barely began to stir from unconsciousness. He shoved him forward, practically dragging him into the warehouse. Dark jumped out of the car to follow, a white-knuckled grip on their cane. Mare continued to pull the criminal around the side of the building and through a small opening where the wooden wall had rotted away.

The warehouse was dark, with the only light source being a few beams of sunlight spilling through high windows illuminating all the dust in the air. Besides some scattered debris on the floor, the only things in the expansive room were a metal chair, and few coils of rope lying beneath it. Countless scratches and burns marked the concrete floor around the chair.

"Mare, what the hell is going on?" Dark's voice echoed throughout the room. Mare simply ignored them, unceremoniously dumping Zachary into the metal chair. The detective slipped a gag around Zachary’s mouth, then picked up the ropes and set to work tying down each of the corrupted wizard’s limbs, so tight the ropes visibly dug into his flesh. Zachary cried out weakly, fully woken up by the pain. His eyes searched the room with panic.

Dark flinched as Zachary’s eyes landed on them, and the fear in his eyes was replaced by betrayal. Before they could try to convey their sincere apology, Mare stepped between them, facing Zachary. Dark only saw a flash of movement and flinched again as they heard the sound of Mare’s backhand connecting with Zachary’s face. They wanted to do something, but something made them hesitate, take a step back instead of forwards. Maybe it would be best if they just left. They could run back to the Department, tell Abe what was happening, get help--

Dark yelped as something wrapped around their wrist, shocking them slightly. They looked down at the wire leading away from their wrist, following it to Mare’s microphone.

“Don’t think you’re leaving,” Mare ordered, pulling the microphone cord and forcing Dark forward. “You’re still shadowing me, remember?”

Dark resisted the urge to fight back, and instead sat down in another chair Mare had pulled out of somewhere. They were several feet from where Zachary sat, tears streaming down his face already. Dark wanted to help, they really did, but something about the look in Mare’s eyes, the way his microphone crackled with magical energy, told them that this was probably the worst time to pick a fight with their coworker.

Dark recoiled as Mare’s microphone cord whipped against Zachary’s face once again. The corrupted wizard convulsed with pain as his own magic turned against him, setting him briefly ablaze with what looked like multi-colored fire. Mare raised the cord and lashed out again, this time hard enough to slash open Zachary's cheek. Blood leaked out of the wound and began to seep into the gag in his mouth. He turned briefly to look pleadingly at Dark, tears running down his face as he searched for any sort of respite. Dark only turned away, flinching as they heard Mare’s cord crack once more. Tears ran down their own face, guilt twisting a knife into their heart.

Dark didn’t know how much time had passed when the noise suddenly stopped. They felt a presence in front of them and looked up, quickly wiping the tears from their eyes. Mare glared down at them, a disgusted sneer on his face.

“Get up,” he ordered, grabbing Dark by their shoulder and forcing them to their feet. He shoved them forwards, closer to Zachary, who was struggling weakly against his bonds. He stopped as Dark approached, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Take his item,” Mare snapped, making Dark flinch and Zachary’s eyes go wide.

“Why can’t you do it?” Dark asked, not taking their eyes off of Zachary. Maybe they could get him free. They could get him out of this awful place.

“I’m not touching him,” came Mare’s answer. “Oh, and don’t try anything. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for another criminal running off, would you?”

Dark held back a sharp comeback as they stepped closer to Zachary. The old black and white wand was stuck in between some of the ropes, likely so Zachary could use all of his power to torture himself. Dark gave the corrupted wizard an apologetic look as they took it. They tried their best to ignore his muffled pleas as they passed the wand to Mare. They began to walk back to their chair, when a hand grabbed their arm, holding them back.

“Stay here,” Mare commanded, a dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I want you to watch this up close.”

“Watch what?” Dark chanced, eyes flitting down to the wand held tightly in Mare’s hand.

Mare took a few steps away and placed the wand on the ground at his feet, pointing it directly at Zachary. “You know, they say the worst pain a wizard can go through is having their item destroyed,” Mare said, stepping back from the wand. “Unfortunately, that requires several wizards, and I don’t have that. However, the second worst pain is having their item damaged.” Mare grinned, and Dark’s heart skipped a beat as they realized what was happening. “That I can do.”

Mare held his microphone up to his mouth, the entire cord lighting up as he began to sing, starting out low, building up higher and louder as he carried the note. The wand in the middle of the floor began to spark and smoke. The light glistened off the sweat trailing down the side of Mare’s face. This was clearly taking a lot of effort, yet the note held strong.

Dark turned to face Zachary as they heard the sound of gagged screaming begin again. He thrashed against his bonds, eyes rolled halfway up his skull. Every muscle was taut, but still powerless against the ropes holding them. The chair threatened to tip over several times.

Dark could only watch.

They were frozen, watching someone suffer in front of them, powerless to do anything. Powerless. They were powerless again. They could only watch. Bad memories threatened to surface. This was all too familiar. This was--

The note ended, and Dark was startled out of their thoughts by the sudden silence. The only noise in the room was the heavy breathing coming from both Mare and Zachary.

Mare’s breathing steadied as he walked back to the wand. He glared down at it for a second before kicking it away. Dark could hear it clatter against some distant wall in the darkness.

Zachary slumped over in the chair, barely clinging to consciousness. His muffled breathing the only noise in the room. Dark stumbled backwards and stood in stunned silence, too terrified to make a sound.

"So disappointing." A man's voice cut through the quiet. Zachary's head whipped up, looking more frightened at the new arrival than he did at his captors. Both detectives turned around towards the voice.

He stood in the middle of the room. There had been no footsteps, no rustle of debris to alert his arrival. It was as if he had simply appeared from thin air. His face was mostly hidden in the shadow of his hat, but anyone could see the scale-like scars across the side of his face and neck. He dressed like a businessman, and held tight onto the cane in his right hand. Pink smoke swirled within the glass orb that sat on top of it.

"I saw some real potential in you. But you know what the contract says about being caught..." the man said, his smooth voice sending ice through Dark’s veins. Zachary thrashed against his bonds with suddenly renewed energy, crying out desperately from behind the gag. His body was ablaze with flames trying to break free. "I really am sorry, kid."

The man tapped his cane against the concrete floor. The sound reverberated louder than should've been possible. The pink smoke from inside the orb burst out, long tendrils of it reaching out towards Zachary, whose screams rose until they were clearly audible behind the gag.

All was quiet. Zachary sat perfectly still, unblinking eyes staring forward. The smoke retreated back to the glass orb on the cane, carrying a flickering ball of yellow-orange light. The stranger lifted his cane to get a better look at the orb on top, an almost remorseful smile on his face. "Such a shame. He was one of my favorites."

"Phantom," Mare spat the name in disgust, stalking towards the man. "I should've known you’d show up eventually."

"Ah, Nate, so nice to see you. I see you're still as big a nuisance as ever." Phantom looked uninterested, not even bothering to look at Mare. He shifted his gaze to Dark, who only stared in horror at Zachary's still form. "Oh look, you brought a friend. I didn't think you had any of those."

"First of all, they're not my friend--"

"So you admit you have no friends?"

"What the hell is going on?" Dark cut in. "Who is this guy? Did he just-- did he take his soul?"

"Stay out of this, Dark!" Mare snapped.

"Be civil for once in your life, little brother. Allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Phantom." He gave a slight bow. "And to answer your question, yes. I did take his soul. A fair exchange, you see I was the one who gave poor Zachary his magic. A simple contract, allowing Zachary perform magic, and giving me the rights to his soul. Of course, dear Zachary was only one of my contractees. I’ve made many soul contracts in my career."

Dark sputtered, unable to say anything besides "Brother?"

"I know. It's unfortunate, isn't it?" Phantom shook his head. "He's so immature, always throwing a tantrum when things don't go his way. And having a brother so high up in the Crime Department is just so inconvenient, especially in my trade."

"At least it's better than having a dirty, soul-stealing criminal for a brother," Mare said through gritted teeth. The wire in his hand began to spark to life with blue energy.

"Losing your temper already? Show some restraint; we're trying to have a civil conversation here," Phantom tutted. He took a few steps towards Dark, his intense gaze almost enough to make them back away. "Where were we? Oh yes, my brother here can be so insufferable, though I'm sure you know that already. But enough about me; Dark, was it? It's a pleasure to meet you." He held his hand out, a surface-warm smile on his face.

Dark eyed his hand with suspicion. After his talk of soul contracts, they were apprehensive to take anything he offered, even if it was just a handshake. "I can't say the feeling is mutual," they said, folding their arms.

Phantom frowned, placing his hand onto his cane. "Very well. I can respect your judgement. You're definitely more perceptive than most of the Committee's pitiful members. If you weren't so obviously attached to their contrived rules, I might even offer you a job--"

"That's enough," Mare said. The wire in his hand crackled violently, bright blue bolts of magic sparking of its surface. "If you don't leave right now, I swear I'll cut you to pieces and feed you to my fox!"

"Not now, Nate," Phantom brushed off the threat. "The grownups are talking."

That was enough to set Mare off. In a flash he whipped out the cord, catching Phantom by the ankle and pulling hard. He hit the floor with a loud thud.

"Hmph. I don't have time for this," Phantom sneered, slamming his cane down. In an instant the room filled with inky black smoke.

"Phantom!" Dark heard Mare cry out, though they thought the word sounded much more terrified than angry.

Dark felt a heavy tug at the back of their coat, dragging them back into the smoke in an instant. They were thrown down onto the concrete, the impact enough to knock the wind out of them. They blindly threw out a wild mass of sparking red magic before a heavy boot came down on their chest, locking them to the ground.

"I only have so much time until my idiotic brother finds me, so I'll make this quick," Phantom's voice said, his towering figure briefly illuminated as he idly dodged another of Dark's magical attacks. "Here's some advice. Learn to control those powers of yours soon, or you'll be in that chair next." A cloud of red smoke completely enveloped him, and suddenly the weight on their chest was gone.

The smoke blanketing the room cleared. Dark began slowly pushing their aching body off the floor, when they were yanked up to their feet by the front of their shirt, pulled face to face with a fuming Mare.

"Where did he go?" Mare was visibly shaking, and his eyes darted around the room.

Phantom's words echoed in Dark's ears, sending shivers down their spine. They cleared their throat, keeping their voice steady. "I have no idea. I got knocked down and then the smoke cleared."

"Of course." Mare let them go with a shove. He turned his attention to Zachary, who still stared forward with unseeing eyes. He scowled before turning his back on Dark. "Should've expected he wouldn't stick around for a decent fight. He's a coward, hiding behind his stupid contracts."

The two stood in silence. Dark shifted their gaze from Zachary to Mare, who was still shaking. The taller detective lifted his hand to his face, apparently wiping his eyes on the edge of his sleeve.

Dark hesitated.

“Mare,” they asked finally, causing him to jump, “are-- are you okay?”

“Go back to the car,” was Mare’s only response, though the usual malice in his voice was almost entirely gone. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

“What about Zacha--”

“I’ll bring him,” Mare interrupted, voice tight. “Just go.”

Dark nodded before turning on their heels and walking quickly out of the old building. Mare’s car was locked, so they resigned to sitting on the curb to wait. It was only a few minutes before they saw Mare leave the building, carrying Zachary over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. He didn’t acknowledge Dark as he approached the car, opening the side door and setting Zachary inside with surprising gentleness. Mare only grunted at Dark before getting in the car himself. Dark quickly followed, barely getting their seatbelt on before Mare slammed on the gas pedal and the car began rocketing down the street.

Dark held tightly onto whatever they could as Mare sped recklessly in the direction of the Crime Department. They tried not to scream as the car ran a few red lights and nearly caused several accidents. They were sure that they blacked out from pure shock, because the next thing they knew, Mare’s car was screeching to a halt in front of the Department, throwing Dark and Zachary forward, only stopped by their seatbelts.

The crowd of departing employees parted smoothly around Mare as he carried Zachary up the steps, Dark trailing closely behind. They didn’t realize how long they’d been gone. They’d left with Mare almost as soon as they’d gotten to work, and now it was time for the last wave of employees to go home. Dark glanced behind them to watch the last few employees leave before following Mare up the stairs to Abe’s office.

Abe met them at the top of the stairs, a look on his face that said he had known this was going to happen, but had been hoping it wouldn’t. He gave them both a sympathetic look before retreating back into his office, gesturing for them to follow. Dark stayed slightly behind Mare, letting him enter with Zachary before entering themself. There was a tense silence in the room before Mare spoke.

“Phantom came,” Mare huffed, sliding Zachary off of his shoulders and laying him down on the ground in front of Abe.

“Are you--” Abe began, but a look from Mare stopped him.

“I’m fine, Abe,” Mare said, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at the floor.

Abe frowned. “Are you sure? Jackie’s still here if you need--”

“I said I’m fine,” Mare growled.

“Alright,” Abe said, letting out a resigned sigh. “Your report, then?”

Mare looked up quickly. “Right now?”

Abe nodded.

Mare shrugged. “Fine. We found the Corrupted holed up in some abandoned apartments towards the edge of the city. Dark assisted in coaxing him out of hiding so I could--”

“So you could knock him out, unnecessarily,” Dark grumbled under their breath.

Mare turned to glare at Dark. “I told you, he would have attacked us if I hadn’t.”

“You don’t know that!” Dark snapped. “He was just scared. He needed help, not-- not you!”

“Oh, so you could have taken care of him all by yourself, is that what you’re saying?” Mare asked incredulously. “You? Who can’t even catch one time thief?”

“Yeah, I could have,” Dark argued.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“You could have, if you’d just let me--”

“That’s enough,” Abe snapped, “both of you. Dark, please don’t interrupt again. Mare, continue your report.”

Dark grumbled and glared at the floor, trying to ignore the smug look Mare gave them.

“As I was saying,” Mare continued, “before I was so rudely interrupted, I apprehended the Corrupted and brought him to an undisclosed location for questioning.”

“That was questioning?!” Dark asked, mouth agape with shock and disbelief. “That’s what you call that? You seriously expect Abe--” Dark stopped and looked over to the Department Head. “Abe, you-- he didn’t question Zachary at all! That-- that was tor--”

“Dark, I told you not to interrupt again,” Abe said firmly, cutting Dark off. Dark met his eyes with a look of betrayal. “Let Mare finish. We can talk afterwards.”

Dark sputtered, looking frantically back and forth between Abe, Mare, and Zachary. “Fine,” they said eventually, a pang of hurt jabbing them in the chest.

“Phantom arrived before I was able to finish,” Mare said, his voice tightening. “He took the Corrupted’s soul before filling the room with darkness and vanishing.” Mare started shaking again, staring down at Zachary. “That’s all.”

Abe nodded. “Thank you, Mare.” He leaned forward and whispered something in Mare’s ear. The detective nodded just slightly, and then walked quickly out of the room.

Abe let out a tired sigh and leaned back on his desk. “All right, Dark,” Abe said patiently. “Let it out.”

"Do you know?" Dark's voice shook, it was clear they were barely holding back tears. "Do you know what he does to the people he takes in for 'questioning'?"

Abe hesitated. "Yes. I know it's awful, I would make him stop if I could, but you know how the Committee is. They don’t care about the means, just the results."

"I don't give a damn about the Committee! Mare tortured him, Abe! He wasn't some selfish criminal, he was a kid! He didn't deserve to be tortured just because Mare has some grudge against his brother!" They took a breath in an attempt to steady their voice. "He was so scared. He didn't know what was happening he just-- it reminded me of--" That was enough to set them off. The emotion building up over the course of this hellish day had finally spilled over, and all they could do was sob.

Abe immediately moved around the desk to comfort his friend. Dark held a hand out before he could reach them, taking a breath to gain their composure. They ran a hand through their hair and sighed. "Don't you ever make me spend the day with him again." They wiped their face with the sleeve of their coat before turning to leave the room, mumbling a half-hearted goodbye to Abe. They gave one final solemn look down at Zachary's lifeless form before leaving the cluttered office.

Dark quickly walked down the hallway, wanting nothing more than to go home and collect their thoughts. They passed the closed doors of the offices of their fellow detectives, picking up the pace when they passed Mare's. As soon as they reached the stairs at the end of the hall, they heard one of the doors open.

"Dark." They turned around to see Mare standing in the doorway of his office, Mangle trotting up to sit at his feet.

"What do you want?" Dark muttered. "Haven’t you done enough to make today a living hell for me?"

"I just wanted to tell you that even though this whole shadowing thing was ridiculous, I hope you learned something."

"What?"

"Yeah, maybe after today you can finally stop being so damn soft and actually catch Warfstache next time you find him."

Dark was taken aback by Mare's blunt words. They stared at him in disgust for a moment before simply saying, "The only thing I learned today is that you're a monster." They turned back and began walking down the stairs.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Mare sputtered. "I'm not a monster, I'm doing what's right!"

"Tell that to Zachary." Dark didn't even bother to turn around.

“Bastard had it coming,” Mare spat. “It was his choice to sign Phantom’s contract and Ascend. He should have known what the consequences would be, or he should have just been smart enough in the first place to see what he was really being offered. Ascension’s a one way trip to corruption, Dark. He got the punishment he deserved.”

Dark froze, unable to speak or move forward.

“Now keep walking before I push you down the stairs,” Mare snapped, now right behind Dark.

Well aware the threat was completely serious, Dark forced themself to move forward, almost sprinting to the door when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

Mare’s words stuck in Dark’s head the whole way back to their apartment. The image of Zachary’s limp body lingered just behind their eyelids. Phantom’s warning lurked in the back of their mind. They wouldn’t rest easy tonight.

#wwoww au #darkiplier #natemare #abe the detective #tw torture #wwoww dark #wwoww mare #wwoww abe #wwoww phantom #natewantstobattle

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pazvizslaplasmathrower · 4 years

Text

Father of Hopes and Dreams - Chapter 9

Read here or on AO3

Chapter 9: Dead Man’s Deal

Series Summary: Your young master is gone, just at the birth of your bond, he has left you for many years, leaving you to survive the galaxy alone. After sustaining an injury from a drunken storm trooper, someone faces the decision to either leave or help you in your moment of need.

Chapter Summary: You and your new guardian set off to Tatooine to find a starship for your travels. But in a moment of weakness, your curiosity gets the better of you.

Word Count: 1760

A/N: As always the MC is gender neutral and written so anyone can insert themself into the story. Comments are much appreciated! Also reqs are open!

“Primary goal: we need a star ship.” Paz muttered mostly too himself.

Young Y/N leaned over to look at what Pas had pulled up on his worn holopad. Much to their disappointment there was no array of star ships on the screen only a conversation in a language you couldn't make heads or tails of.

“What does that say?” You asked loudly, pointing directly at a word Paz had typed quite aggressively. “I...I think I've heard it before. Doesn't it mean ha-”

“Nope!” Without warning, Paz covered your mouth with a hand, before the rest of the word had a chance to roll off your tongue.

With both of your hands, you pried Paz's hand from your face, “S'not like I was gonna actually say it...”

The Mandalorian sighed, putting the data pad away, instead bringing out a holomap. The transport was nearly empty, so he was able to shrug off some of the natural anxiety that came with being out in the world for extended periods of time. You on the other hand seemed to be perfectly fine, not bothering much with your surroundings and still maintaining a lively energy. He was thinking to himself for just a moment too long.

“So...Are you going to show me where we're goin' or what?” You asked, trying to grab the device.

Paz Vizsla moved it just out of reach, switching it on. Blue light burst forth in a wave of unusual elegance, the map illuminating your face. Your guardian pointed out different planets and stars, tracing your current path with a gloved finger. As interesting as all those names and numbers were, the planets themselves were something to behold. With just a light touch, a single planet could be enhanced, illustrating its key features. To think that now you were going to once again be able to travel among the stars without fear! If only your master could have seen you.

“So, I want you to stay by my side the whole time. Y/N. Are you listening?” The man sighed once more. “Y/N, listen. Come back to me. “

He lightly snapped his fingers, drawing you out from your thoughts. “Huh?”

“I said that I need you to be at my side. Tatooine has no patience with naivety. Hold onto me if you must.”

Nodding, you wondered what type of port you would be landing at. “Is that where we're going to get a ship?”

“Yes, young one. Remember that use of your...powers is on hold for now. Until you can use them safely, there will be none of it.”

Groaning, you threw up your hands. “But what if something happens!? I don't have the strength of a Nexu, without the Force I'm dragon bait!”

“If you listen to me, you shall be just fine.” Paz patted them on the back, his strength a tad overwhelming, sending the kid lurching forward.

Still, the little one gave him a wry smile. “You can promise that you're gonna always be with me?”

He had no answer.

They slipped back into their seat, swinging their feet back and forth. “I know you can't. No one can do somethin' forever. I'm just scared I guess.” He watched them anxiously pick at the leather straps of their pristine, new armor. “I really don't wanna die as a kid, y'know?”

“I...I do know.” He said calmly.

The child nodded, nudging him lightly in the side. “I kind of figured. Man, it'd be nice to live a little and see things...”

“Y/N.”

They turned their head, those inquisitive eyes, somehow meeting his gaze right through his visor, most didn't know where to look, unable to even glance at him.

“Look at me.” Even though they already were, he couldn't let them know.

Swiftly, Y/N righted themselves and moved in the seat until they stood on direct eye level. “You're gonna say something serious, aren't you?”

“Yes. While I may not always be at your side, during the times that I am, I will do all I can to give you the best life you deserve.”

Y/N's mouth opened to speak, but Paz held up a finger to silence them.

“Don't you dare say you deserve otherwise.”

Without warning, the ship rocked, jarring both of them.

“WE'VE DOCKED. PASSENGERS CAN NOW LEAVE THE CABIN.” The pilot shut the com off, opening the hatch. Paz stood, beckoning you to follow and you did, making sure to at least stay in line with the Mandalorian's shadow.

***___***___***

Swear poured down the sides of your head, and dripped down from your brow, making your eyes sting. At first the prospect of wearing armor, was alluring, making you feel like a hero of old. High above, the twin suns beat down on the planet, making you move at the pace of a snail. Force, how Paz Vizsla was able to march ahead unperturbed.

“Can...Can we take a break?” You groaned melodramatically. “I'm gonna melt!”

“Are you drinking your water?” The man asked, glancing back.

Growing sheepish, you shook your head. “No...It's warm now.”

“Just a little further and we will rest for a bit. We really must hurry if we are going to meet the buyer.”

With a gloved hand, you wiped your forehead. “Why can't we break now?”

The Mandalorian took a breath, checking his com to see if there were any new notices. “Y/N are you truly exhausted?”

Weakly, you nodded, hoping he wouldn't insist on pressing further. To your good fortune, Paz Vizsla beckoned you to come forward. Sluggishly, you did, and to your surprise, he knelt, and turned his back.

“We don't have much time to waste. You can just hang onto my armor, alright?”

“Kark! Awesome!” With a smile, you latched onto the Mandalorian's back, holding onto the straps of the forged plates.

“Watch your mouth, Y/N.” He chided, standing and shifting to accommodate you. “Not until you are older.”

“Hm, we'll see.”

Even with you hanging on him, the Mandalorian Paz Vizsla, forged ahead, not slowing down a bit. The lifeforms on this planet were diverse to put it lightly. Never before had you seen such an array of peoples before. Traveling with your master, the both of you tended to stay away from the rest of civilization. A precaution that your old teacher had insisted upon. The urge to stare was far too much for you to handle, and so you gave in, looking at nearly everyone that passed by. Quite often you were observed right back, your curious stare met with tense scowls and strange smirks.

“Staring is rude, A'dika. I know this is all new for you, but you will find that the inhabitants here are far less than kind.”

You grumbled, pulling the hood of your short cloak up so no one could look at you. The rest of the walk was less than a mile, Paz finally stopping at the entrance of an extremely worn looking star ship hangar. The main door was shut though, large sections of durasteel were missing, having been stripped away by some monstrous force. Leaping down from the Mandalorian, you glanced at him with a worried look.

“We'll be fine.”

Tentatively, you trailed behind him, tense, waiting for something to happen.

Without pressing the door switch, the hangar entrance started to open, the harsh noise making your hair stand on end. From the dark inside came a rather sickly looking figure, ghoulish in complexion, hunched over, gaunt arms swinging from side to side with this new character's gait. His nearly toothless smile regarded your guardian, but then his white eyes looked down upon you.

“You never said you were bringing a kriffing child.” The brute growled.

“They are mine, they travel with me-”

“No children!” His sudden yell sent him into a coughing fit. “Leave the child outside or we don't have a deal!”

You could see Paz tap his fingers against the side of one of his blasters. Sighing, he turned and kneeled to speak to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Listen. It's won't-”

“Make up your mind! I don't have all day!”

Paz Vizsla merely turned his head. “If you raise your voice at me or my child again, I will shoot you where you stand.”

The ghastly man closed his gaping mouth.

“Forgive me, Y/N. It won't be very long. I just need to make this deal and we'll be on our way.”

“So I'm just gonna have to be out here alone?” You looked around, wary of how many strangers were wandering about.

“Everything will be alright.” Paz assured you. “Find somewhere close to hide. Wait there until I call for you, understand?”

That bastard behind the Mandalorian glared your way when you met his gaze. You wanted to put up some sort of protest, but decided against it.

“Okay...Can...Can you be quick?”

He chuckled, standing up tall. “I will do my best, A'dika. Don't worry. I'll come looking for you.”

Those curious twin suns, had started to fall, giving way to the majesty of night. No matter what planet you traveled to, the night sky had always remained perfectly beautiful. Heeding the Mandalorian's word, you scampered to the alley way next to the hangar, trying to find someplace unsuspecting, but comfortable. Not wanting to take cover in the dumpster nearby, you crawled up on the roof of the adjacent building, keeping low to the ground. Seconds flew by, then minutes, an hour and them another. The suns were gone by now, leaving you under the luminescence of the moon and stars.

“It's so kriffing cold...Hurry up...”

It had taken most of your self control not to go off and investigate the numerous interesting sounds, smells and sights. The Mandalorian Paz Vizsla had given you kind, but strict instructions to wait for him, but that had been ages ago. To wait a moment longer would make you go insane.

“A few minutes wouldn't hurt.”

With your enthusiasm piqued, you jumped to your feet, looking for your own adventure. By the time you had wandered off into the night, Paz strode out of the hangar, a sudden sinking feeling making his heart race. He yelled out your name. Once. Twice. Three times and nothing. He quickly checked over his jet pack, knowing a good scolding would be in order. Maker, nothing better have happened to you, so help him.

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prairiesongserial · 4 years

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10.10

Val stayed in the bell tower for a while. A couple of hours, maybe. The heat wasn’t bad up there, with the air moving through. The wind brought far more pigeons to roost than it called away, and soon, through sheer necessity, Val was deemed by the more daring pigeons as an acceptable place to sit. Val pet the head of one pigeon that had fought another for the privilege of sitting in his lap. It was a little mutated, one of its feet cleft into a third which served no purpose but to hinder its balance.

“I bet you fly crooked,” Val said to the pigeon.

The pigeon didn’t seem to care either way. It fluffed itself up, apparently cozy. Another bird settled on Val’s head, pulling his hair, shortly followed by one on his shoulder, and one on his knee.

The trapdoor in the floor opened with a thud, and the pigeons scattered, the jumpiest flying past Val’s nose, the rest hopping quickly to either side. Valentine had joined him in the bell tower, and now bent double to throw the trap door shut behind them, slamming it just as the birds were beginning to settle again. Val had only retained the mutant in his lap; the rest of his companions had been scared off.

“Ta-da,” Valentine announced, throwing their arms open. Val smiled at them incredulously, cocking an eyebrow. Valentine had changed a lot in the last ten years, but that stupid grin was the same. They were wearing a button-down shirt and jeans, and there was something wrong with their hair. It was short on one side and long on the other, and it looked absolutely terrible. Valentine themselves looked radiant, however. Their cheeks were glowing from taking the stairs, and they beamed at Val. Val knew why.

“You pulled it off,” Val conceded.

“The fucking priesthood,” Valentine agreed. They took a bow. “I didn’t spend a damn day as a nun,” they said proudly, plopping down beside him. Valentine was all legs, which the pigeons took advantage of at once. “Not one.”

Val scoffed. “I can’t imagine you in a habit and cassock.”

“Yeah, that’s because it would be fucking awful,” Valentine agreed, tossing their curls out of their eyes. They glanced down to the pigeon in Val’s lap. “I met your friend Cody.”

Val swallowed. “Yeah?”

“He’s alright,” Valentine said. “Talking to him mostly made me want to talk to you.”

Val nodded. He wanted to talk to them, too. The momentary high of seeing his childhood friend was beginning to fade. Val could see the compassion of a priest doing their duty, as well as the concern of a friend, in Valentine. Val hadn’t known the person he’d been writing letters to all this time, which was a strange thought. He’d always imagined Valentine the same as they had been at eighteen.

“Yeah,” Val said. “Yeah, I need to give confession.”

“Well, hold up,” Valentine said, scooting closer. Their shoulder pressed against Val’s in a schoolyard kind of way. The way children had no qualms about touching each other. Val suppressed a flinch. “That’s pretty gloomy of you.”

“But…” Val stammered.

“But I guess you would be feeling gloomy, since you’re up here,” Valentine mused. “I just meant, I didn’t come up here to be your priest, if you want to hold that thought and just talk for a minute. Let’s pretend we’re two ordinary people in a bell tower and talk Valerie to Valentine, not priest to priest.”

Val’s composure broke. He stood up suddenly, scaring the mutant pigeon away and nearly braining himself on the edge of the bell.

“I couldn’t talk priest to priest if I wanted to, V,” he said. “Mother told me to give up. I’m that bad.”

“Holy shit,” Valentine said, straightening. “What does that mean? Are you going to?”

“I’ve never had reason to doubt her judgment,” Val said. He began to pace in front of Valentine. “But it’s never occured to me to give up before, it’s never even crossed my mind until today! Even though I…” He gestured, frustrated. “I don’t know how much Cody told you.”

“Forget what Cody told me,” Valentine said. “You tell me.”

Val did. He told Valentine everything, jumping around in the story when he forgot to mention context that became important later on. When he had finished, it was late. He could hear the sisters below wrapping up the day’s work. Dinner would be called soon.

Valentine gave a low whistle. They were silent for a long moment, thinking over what Val had said. It was a lot to process, Val knew. He hadn’t processed any of it himself.

“Alright,” Valentine said, finally. “I’m not gonna say any ‘the Lord only gives us tests He knows we can handle’ bullshit. ‘Cause, frankly, the Lord knew Peter wasn’t going to be able to handle his test. Otherwise what was ‘before the cock crows, you will deny me three times’ about? No.” Valentine paused. “The Lord gives us tests that teach us, even when He knows we will fail.”

Val swallowed. He craved guidance, and willed Valentine to continue.

“I know I just said I wasn’t going to be a priest about this, but I guess this is who I am now,” Valentine sighed. “What I mean is, it’s up to you to learn from what happened, right? Mother Superior sees that you failed - sorry - and she remembers all the times she caught us high as kites when we were supposed to be on dish-washing duty, okay? And she figures, okay, you were a test given to her by God, and she failed the test by encouraging you to be a priest instead of keeping you close at hand for a few more years, because if only she had done that, you might not have had to face the choices you faced. But - ” Valentine clapped their hands for emphasis, scaring the nearest pigeons into flight. “The test isn’t just for her,” they continued. “It’s for you, too, and you get to decide what you learned, and how to move forward.”

Val nodded, his jaw set. He sat down again in front of Valentine, his nervous energy dissipated. Valentine was waiting for him to say something. He couldn’t, though. Valentine was offering him grace he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Will you come here?” Valentine said. “Come here.”

Val did so, and found Valentine’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“God forgives you, your family forgives you, and I have it on good authority that your new friends forgive you,” Valentine said into his hair. “All that’s left is for you to forgive you. Easier said than done, right?”

Val nodded into their shoulder and breathed deeply and slowly, trying not to cry.

Minutes ticked past like that, Valentine’s arms firm and still across his back. Valentine hadn’t hugged people as a teenager. Not that they had been touch-averse, but Val remembered the lengths they used to go to in order to avoid a hug. It was something the two of them had always had in common, though for different reasons. Valentine didn’t appear to be forcing themself, though; they were perfectly at ease. Val realized what it must be. Their chest was flat and hard, protected by something they wore under their shirt. As soon as Val noticed, he also noticed that the arms bound to his stomach were squirming enough that Valentine could probably feel them.

Val sat up, his eyes red and stinging. He rubbed at them, laughing at himself in embarrassment. A few pigeons had returned to the bell tower, but they gave him and Valentine a wide berth this time. Val picked out his mutant pigeon by its unusual gait, watching it waddle across the floor.

“Thank you,” he said.

Valentine smiled at him.

“Can I ask you something?” they asked. “You don’t have to answer.”

Val leaned back against the wall beside them, and nodded.

“You never used to bind them at home,” Valentine said.

It was and wasn’t a question. Val’s brow furrowed. His mutation had always been common knowledge at the convent. Growing up, it would have been silly to bind them - nothing but vanity. It hadn’t even occurred to Val in the past three weeks that he could spare himself some pain while he was here.

The convent was well populated with mutated sisters. Some of them had been “given to God” by their parents at birth, as Val had been, while others came freely in search of a safer, simpler existence under the convent’s protection. While most mutations were disguised anyway under the conventional cassock, extra fingers and oddly colored eyes were practically ordinary at the Convent of the Holy Mother. What did Val have to fear? John and Cody’s opinion? Questions from the young sisters in his class?

“You don’t have to answer,” Valentine said again. “But if you ask me, I think this might be your next test.”

Val considered answering - not that he had an answer to give. The dinner bell saved him. It rang painfully loudly, shaking the stone of the bell tower and sending every pigeon off in a desperate scramble to the heavens. Valentine clutched their hands to their ears, grimacing as they tried to kick the trapdoor back open.

“Wow, ouch,” they said, when the last peal had faded into silence. “We should have seen that coming.”

Val laughed under his breath and helped Valentine throw open the door.

Halfway down the spiral stairs, Valentine suddenly swore and broke into a run.

“I’m supposed to be saying grace,” they hollered over their shoulder, and without another word, they sprinted out of sight, tugging what might have been a misshapen collar out of their back pocket.

Val laughed in surprise. He felt worlds better, even if he still didn’t have any of the answers. Valentine was a good priest. Val felt it now, more than he had before: Valentine had pulled it off. Val was surprised by his own lack of jealousy; if he was jealous, it was drowned in pride.

He turned onto one of the main halls, joining the throng of sisters hurrying to dinner, and slowed his pace. He had a lot to think about, and he kind of wanted to see what Friday thought about Valentine’s advice. Friday hadn’t seemed to want him to go back to Vegas, but if that was where she was headed, Val couldn’t see himself going anywhere else. The only question was what he would do when he got there.

Running footsteps behind him startled Val out of his train of thought. He turned, expecting to see a young sister, maybe even one of the novitiates from his sunday school class, but was surprised to see a grown woman - and not a nun.

“You!” she yelled.

Val paused. He pointed to himself questioningly.

The woman stopped in front of him, bent double as she caught her breath. She wore a knotted scarf over her hair, and her long skirt was stained with soil. Val frowned, trying to place her, but whoever she was, he either hadn’t met her before, or she had slipped from his memory.

The woman held up a torn piece of paper, her chest heaving as she waited for him to take it.

A feeling of dread washed over Val. He took the paper, despite all his better instincts, and turned over the page.

It was a wanted flier. Gangs would post them in Vegas, offering rewards for debtors like Cody, usually to the tune of twenty-five pieces of silver, occasionally as much as two hundred. The gangs were trying to recover a loss, after all. Fliers like this one weren’t common in New Orleans. Actually, fliers like this one weren’t common anywhere.

The flier featured two likenesses, Val’s and Friday’s. The drawings were more or less accurate, as if they had been done by someone who had spent some time with the two of them. There were no pictures of John or Cody, but their descriptions were written under Val and Friday’s. The offered reward was two thousand silver apiece.

Val felt sick. The woman had finally caught her breath, and she motioned for him to return the flier to her. He did, and she immediately began to shred it into narrow strips.

“You need to get your people out of here right now, before whatever hell you brought with you lands on the convent,” she said, her tone sharp but not panicked. “Get your stuff and bring everyone to my house. It’s the first cottage on your way into town. Josie will be watching the road. She’ll bring you around back.”

Val stood frozen.

“Okay?” the woman said.

Val wasn’t going to get to say goodbye, this time. Not to Mother Superior, or Sister Mary Theresa, or any of the other sisters he’d grown up with. He wouldn’t get to teach another Sunday school class, or give a proper confession to Valentine.

“I… I need to find everybody,” he said. “I don’t know where anyone is.”

The woman nodded, thinking. “I bet I can track down John, if you can find the other two.”

Val didn’t ask how she knew John. He returned her nod, then sprinted the rest of the way to dinner, praying he would find Cody and Friday there.

10.9 || 10.11

#story

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cave-of-the-owl-witch · 5 years

Text

Nobody Will Believe You

Edit 12/12/20: I’ve done some minor rewrites in regards to Shadow’s species. All other aspects of the story remain the same.

((In the holiday rush, I completely forgot to post that Three Meat story I wrote for class! I’m still not 100% happy with it, but this is what I ended up turning in for my final grade. Story below the cut because it’s really pecking long.))

Sawyer idly kicked a rock as they trudged down the street, hands firmly in the pockets of their hoodie, hardly seeming to care as it went skittering along down the sidewalk. They sighed and watched their breath form a damp cloud in front of them, noting that they should have probably been wearing something a bit thicker on a day like this. Not that it was in the cards any time soon; if they had the money to spend, they wouldn’t have been walking back to their apartment in the first place. The thing that nobody wants to admit about a “serviceable old car” is that it’s old.

The wind picked up, cold and harsh, seeming to Sawyer to be almost mocking them as they pulled their hood up over their long, sandy hair. The wind still cut through, biting at their ears and nose, but it was better than nothing.

At least it’s not raining, they caught themself thinking. Their pace slowed for a moment as they waited for the sky to open up on them out of spite. It didn’t, and they continued walking with a shake of their head.

You’re being silly. What is this, a cartoon? they chided. Still, they were definitely having one of those days. Well... one of those weeks, to be perfectly honest. Their hours had been cut at work, they were barely making rent as it was, and now they had this unexpected car repair on top of that; they hated to admit it, but it was looking like they’d have to call their aunt to ask for help. Again. Ugh, would she even be willing to help them this time?

They kicked another rock and it ricocheted off the side of a brick wall, disappearing into the alley with an odd clanging sound. Sawyer looked up from their shoes and stared down between the buildings, fully expecting to see the grimy dumpster and the fire escapes, and even the rusted out, abandoned bicycle was not a surprise. They were not expecting to see something sparkly poking out of a puddle, half buried beneath some wayward autumn leaves that had blown over from across the street.

They looked to their left down the street, and then to the right, but there didn’t appear to be anyone around. The buildings on either side of the alley didn’t show any signs of life either, their windows dark and the signs in the doors flipped so they read “Sorry, we’re closed”. Whatever was in the puddle, whoever had lost it seemed to be long gone.

Still, Sawyer hesitated. This wasn’t exactly a bad part of town, but their mom had always told them that nothing good ever happens in an alleyway. But the thing in the puddle looked to be pretty big—much larger than just a penny, or even a lost watch—and curiosity was beginning to outweigh common sense. They knew it was probably just some random piece of junk, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was something they could return for a reward, or even pawn off to help cover those bills? Sawyer felt guilty for thinking such things, but they did need the money, and if it meant not having to call their aunt...

They glanced up and down the street again, then ducked into the alley; if nothing else, at least it would be a momentary reprieve from the wind. They knelt beside the puddle, careful not to get their shoes any wetter than they already were. Now that they were up close, they could see that the sparkle that had caught their eye was the handle of some sort of knife. The muddy water did little to dull the gleam of gold, but what really caught Sawyer’s eye was what they could only guess was a large sapphire embedded in the pommel. Their heart fluttered in their chest, and they hardly dared to breathe as they brushed the leaves aside to reveal the shiny, steel stiletto blade.

Gingerly, they picked it up and let the water drip down the tip before wiping off the rest on their jeans. It was cold and heavy in their hand, and whether or not it was real gold and sapphire, it was definitely real metal, and the blade itself looked sharp; somehow, they doubted this was a simple prop.

They turned it over in their hand a couple more times, looking for an inscription or something that might tell them who the blade belonged to, but all they found was the intricate braided detail of the handle, and some etched filigree on the blade. Honestly, it looked like something that belonged in a museum.

Watch it still only get me like twenty quid, they thought, letting out a short, humorless laugh. Not having anywhere better to put it, they slid it under their belt; it fit snugly, and the crossguard kept it from sliding down too far.

As they turned to leave, they heard something further down the alley. Their muscles tensed and they looked back over their shoulder, half expecting someone to step out of the shadows and confront them for taking the dagger, but there was nobody there. Sawyer held their breath and listened. It sounded like... voices? Voices, and a strange squelching sound.

The reasonable part of their brain was urging them to just go. Go, and don’t look back. Nothing good ever happens in an alley, remember? Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with you.

The louder, less cautious side of their brain countered, You just found that dagger, didn’t you? And that counts as “something good”. Maybe it belongs to one of those voices. Besides, if it turns out to be trouble, you’re fast and now you’re armed. There’s nothing to worry about.

...Maybe if I’m quiet about it, the reasonable side conceded. Sawyer was never exactly known for making wise decisions.

They slowly walked further into the alley, making extra sure to avoid the little puddles and bits of trash that dotted the cracked asphalt. Halfway down, there was a high chain link fence with a weathered sign that read, “Do Not Enter”. It was held to a gate with a bit of rusted wire, but the gate itself didn’t even appear to be locked; it was held closed with a simple curved latch. The latch, however, also appeared to be rusted, and Sawyer briefly considered dropping the whole idea.

That is, until they heard one of the voices again. It was deep and low, and although they still couldn’t make out what was being said, it renewed their curiosity. They tried the latch, carefully wiggling it up and down until some of the rust flaked off and they were able to force it up just enough to clear the side of the fence. It stuck fast in its new position, refusing to move again one way or the other.

Taking a deep breath, they slowly pulled the gate open and stepped through.

The alley continued for another fifty-or-so feet, then abruptly turned to the left. There was another dumpster, and a stack of old crates piled right up to the landing of one of the fire escapes. There had to be some kind of violation there...

Violation or no, it was awfully convenient, as it meant they could hide behind the stack from whoever was on the other side. Heck, maybe they could even climb up onto the fire escape and watch from above.

As they got closer, they could finally hear the strangers’ conversation.

“I know,” said the deep voice, “but we cannot stay here much longer. Every minute we do is another minute that we risk discovery.”

“But Meaty,” whined the other voice. It was high and feminine, with a distinct valley girl bent. “It’s, like, more than just my favorite; my granny gave it to me!”

“Do not try to gain my sympathy with lies; I was there when you won it in a game of poker. I will buy you two more just like it if we can please just get moving!”

While they were arguing, Sawyer had managed to pull themself up onto one of the crates, and was in the process of trying to get up onto another without being seen nor heard. Their head poked out over the top of the crate, but they still couldn’t see who was speaking; it looked like they would have to go all the way to the fire escape after all.

“No, you won’t, because there’s not another like it! And I so doubt you would be willing to shell out the coinage to have them custom made!”

There was a rumbling sigh, accompanied by... a gurgle? “There are literally thousands like it, you are just being stubborn.”

“I’m not leaving until I find it!”

As Sawyer stepped over the guard rail, their foot slipped on the wet grate. For a heart-pounding moment they thought they were about to faceplant onto the fire escape, but they managed to catch themself on the far rail at the last second. The dagger, however, clanged against the metal bars.

“Wait, like. What was that?” the female voice hissed.

A chill ran down Sawyer’s spine. Whoever was below them had definitely heard that.

“I told you this would happen!” the deep voice rumbled back. Though it was trying to be quiet, the voice still carried.

“Shut up! I’ll just... find whatever it is and deal with it.”

“Shadow-creature,” the other cautioned.

“Chillax, I’m not going to hurt anybody. Much.”

This was bad. Sawyer knew they had to get out of there immediately. They crouched down and made themself small, finally daring to get a peek at the strangers if only so they could know they weren’t about to walk right into them.

What they saw... didn’t make even a bit of sense.

Taking up nearly the entire width of the alley was a large... tube? It was pale tan with deeper tan spots, and appeared to be wearing a scarf and top hat which were splotched with aqua blue, lime green, purple, and magenta. It raised its front end and swiveled as if it was searching for something, revealing that the end of the tube was open. Inside was a glistening mass of brown, red, green, and yellow; if they didn’t know better, Sawyer would say it looked like a massive burrito.

A few feet away from the “burrito” was a creature about the size of a child, with deep grey fur that blended easily into the gloom of the alley. This contrasted sharply with its claws, which appeared to have been painted traffic cone orange. It had long, fur-tipped ears and a wide face, with a wider mouth beneath its black button nose, and catlike eyes that glinted in the dark. Not just catlike, in fact-- it looked every bit like a bipedal feline. The creature was on high alert, tensed as if to pounce.

But that can’t be right! Those have got to be costumes, or—or maybe animatronics! they tried to reason. Never mind why anyone would be in an alley dressed as a burrito and a bootleg Thundercat. These people were clearly weirdos.

If they were fast, maybe Sawyer would be able to go back the way they came? They thanked their lucky stars that nobody ever looked up and crept back over the railing, taking extra care with their footing this time; they didn’t want to know what weirdos like those two would do if they were caught. Below, they heard,

“...Hold up, I smell... gold. Meaty, that’s, like, totally got to be my dagger! There’s a pesky little sneak thief around!”

Once again, Sawyer froze, all too aware that they had nowhere to hide.

“Shadow-creature,” the burrito warned, more sternly than before. It went completely ignored.

“If you come out now, I promise to take it easy on you!” the shrill creature yowled, a fuzzy paw cupped around its mouth as it called into the alley. At last, it turned and spotted them.

“Aha! Up there! C’mere, you—”

With a grunt and a muttered curse, Sawyer jumped off the crates and hit the ground running, pitching forward and catching themself on one hand as they nearly fell again. Their hood flopped back and their ponytail trailed out behind them.

Shadow was right behind them, bouncing along on nimble legs, but Sawyer’s longer stride kept them well ahead of her. She screeched and called out words that the youth didn’t understand. They were almost back to the gate when they heard her shout,

“Hey! Let go of me, you lummox! This is so not cool!”

Sawyer turned just in time to see the burrito speeding toward them like a subway car, Shadow wrapped in some kind of leafy tendril. Another such tendril shot out of the burrito’s opening and caught them around the waist, lifting them as easily as one would a ragdoll. They yelled in surprise, so close now that they could smell the cooked meat, the spices, and the cheese.

“Three Meat, I swear I’ll—” Shadow’s protest was cut off by a third tendril, and she glowered first at the burrito, then at Sawyer.

Sawyer yelled again. The fence was mere feet away, and Three Meat was moving too fast to slow down before they hit it; in fact, he seemed to be picking up even more speed.

They closed their eyes and braced for impact, but it never came. Instead, they heard a sound not unlike the warbling of laminated paper, and their skin prickled as if they had been hit with snowballs from every direction at once. The inside of their mouth tasted like they had just licked a battery. Beside them, they could hear muffled, angry noises coming from Shadow. It lasted only an instant, and then it suddenly felt much warmer than before. Sawyer opened their eyes as Three Meat slid to a halt in a forest clearing.

This... was not anywhere near where they had just been. In fact, Sawyer wasn’t so sure this was anywhere near where anyone had been. The trees around them had pale violet leaves that glowed with a soft bioluminescence, and what they could see of the sky appeared to be a pale tangerine color.

“Wha?” they gasped, shortly before being dropped unceremoniously on the forest floor.

“I’m going to clobber you both!” Shadow shrieked, having been released as well. Sawyer barely had time to react before sharp claws were scrabbling at their belt, trying to retrieve the dagger. She pulled it free and leveled it at them menacingly. “I’ll teach you to steal from me, you stupid hu—ack!”

The leafy tendrils once again made an appearance as Three Meat grabbed her by the back of her shirt and held her aloft. Sawyer could see now that they appeared to be shreds of lettuce, though the head they came from would have had to be the size of a shed.

“For the last time, Shadow-creature, you will calm yourself!” he bellowed. His voice seemed to shake the trees, sending a flock of birds screeching into the skies. Shadow looked genuinely startled for a moment, then began to sulk.

“I—I didn’t steal anything!” Sawyer managed at last. “I found it, in a puddle in the alley!”

“As if! Like, do you really think I’m that stupid?!” the cat spat back.

Sweet mother of something, I’m talking to a cat. A cat, and a burrito in a stupid hat.

“You would have seen the human coming and you know it, Shadow-creature. Accept your mistake and let things be,” the burrito rumbled.

Shadow’s ears twitched, but she relented, tucking the dagger away and crossing her arms irritably. The burrito set her down and turned to address Sawyer.

“Human. You have seen things you should not have seen, and heard things you should not have heard. What are we to do with you?”

“I vote we knock him out and, like, leave him on the side of the road somewhere. Let the human police deal with him.”

“Your vote has been counted and summarily ignored, Shadow-creature.”

“Them,” Sawyer muttered. Now that they were more or less safe, their fear was quickly fading in favor of anger.

“Sorry?” Three Meat asked.

“What was that, human?” Shadow sneered.

“Not ‘him’. Them. And my name is Sawyer.”

Shadow shrugged. “Whatever. You humans all smell the same anyway.”

Three Meat cuffed her upside the head with his lettuce, which then retreated back into the folds of his tortilla. “Do not be rude! My apologies for my friend’s behavior, Sawyer-creature. I am Three Meat Burrito, and as I am sure you have no doubt gathered, the feisty one is called Shadow.”

“A pleasure,” they drawled sarcastically. “So, if your ‘friend’ is done trying to stab me or knock me out or whatever, do you mind telling me where we are and what in the hell is going on?”

“You are upset, Sawyer-creature.”

“Yeah, of course I’m upset!” Sawyer snapped. “I’ve been shouted at, manhandled, accused of theft, and from the looks of things, kidnapped by—by a pair of monster movie rejects! Forgive me for being just a little upset!” They were shaking now. They were angry and scared, nothing made sense, and they just wanted to go home and forget anything had ever happened in the first place. Begging their aunt for rent money would be a blessing compared to this.

“Who are you calling a reject, punk?!”

“This is not the time, Shadow-creature. One more outburst and I will leave you on the side of the road.”

The cat began to sulk again, sitting cross-legged on the ground with her back against a tree.

“I understand your frustrations, Sawyer-creature, but yelling and name-calling will not help anyone. Let us discuss things calmly and rationally.”

“There’s nothing ‘rational’ about this! This is mad, you know? Completely mad! Because I’m in the middle of a forest somewhere talking to a cat and a burrito!”

Three Meat sighed another gurgling sigh. “You humans always get so hung up on the fact that I am a burrito.”

“Because burritos aren’t supposed to talk! Or be huge! Or wear hats and scarves! Either I’m having a mental breakdown, or everything I know about how the world works is flat out wrong!” Poor Sawyer was on the verge of tears.

“Everything humans know about how the world works is wrong, and if I am not mistaken, you are finding that out all the time. There was a time when humans thought their world was flat, or that diseases were spread by foul odors, but now they know better. There was a time, Sawyer-creature, when you thought burritos could not talk, or be huge, or wear hats and scarves... but now you know better. It really is not something you need be upset about.”

They stared at him as if he had insulted their mother. How dare he tell them what they should or should not be upset about! It was his fault they were in this mess in the first place!

...Except it’s not. You were the one who picked up the dagger, Sawyer, and you were the one who went poking your nose wear it didn’t belong. There’s no one to blame but yourself.

The human seemed to deflate, and they suddenly felt very small.

“Just... just take me home, okay?”

“Gladly. In another half hour.”

“What? But why?”

“Because that is when I will be able to open another portal. Magic like that requires a fair bit of power, and it is wise to rest in between.”

They supposed that made sense. They hadn’t considered that a burrito could get tired in the first place, but then, a lot had happened that day that they hadn’t considered.

“So... what do we do until then?” they asked.

“That is a very good question,” the burrito admitted. “That is something I admire about you humans, is that you are always full of questions.”

“...Right. And I don’t suppose that burritos are full of answers?”

“How do you mean?”

“I still don’t know where we are or what’s going on. And while we’re on the subject, what were you two even doing in that alley, anyway?”

Three Meat made a low rumbling sound, shifting his weight with a soft squelch. “We are in Scotland, and I brought us here because it was the easiest point of access when I opened the portal; I did not want to smash anyone, nor leave any trace that we had been there by knocking down that fence.”

Sawyer gave him a look. “This is not Scotland. My aunt lives in Scotland. I have been to Scotland, and Scotland does not have glowing trees.”

“A lot of planets have a Scotland,” Three Meat said nonchalantly. “As for what we were doing in that alley... the less you know about it, Sawyer-creature, the safer you will be.”

“Bull.”

“Which part? The part about how a lot of planets have a Scotland, or the part about how you will be safer not knowing what we were doing?”

They kind of wanted to say “both”, but they were beginning to come around to the idea that maybe the world—no, the universe—was stranger than they thought. “The part about how I’ll be safer. That’s almost as cliché as ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you’.”

The burrito laughed. “Perhaps, but that is the truth.”

Shadow twitched an ear and looked back towards the pair, having finally taken a moment to calm down. “Actually, Meaty... the kid’s been around us for a hot minute. Don’t you think there’s, like, a chance they’ll be in danger anyway? I mean, they’ve, like, probably started to smell like us already.”

Sawyer considered arguing that they weren’t a kid, but thought better of it; they wanted answers, and weren’t willing to risk derailing the conversation. Instead, they asked,

“Why would I be in danger for smelling like you? Other than hungry dogs or something, I mean.”

Shadow shook her head. “Not that kind of smell; your smell is like your energy, y’know? A sort of, like, vibe that can be tracked and stuff. It’s kinda like... your you-ness. And now your you-ness smells like somebody who totally travels through portals and hangs out with people like us. Which is super bad. Damning, even.”

“Do not be so dramatic,” Three Meat sighed in exasperation. “Although... you may have a point.”

The burrito went quiet for a moment.

“...We could give them a means to contact us. Just in case.”

“And by ‘us’, you mean you, right?”

“Naturally. I am the muscle. And the transportation.”

The cat snorted. “Fer shur, big guy.”

“Then it is decided. Sawyer-creature, I offer you my protection; it is only right, as I am the one who has put you in this situation,” Three Meat said, reaching into his hat with a lettuce tendril. It went much deeper than should have logically been possible, and he pulled out a smooth, pale blue stone. It had a sort of iridescence to it, and it was strung on a woven green cord. Etched into its surface were markings that Sawyer didn’t understand.

“But... protection from what?” Their voice faltered as they began to feel overwhelmed again; if things like Three Meat and Shadow existed, they couldn’t imagine what sorts of things might be after them.

“The Greys. Children of chaos, they typically travel in packs and sometimes pretend to be human... and sometimes not. They are incredibly powerful, and incredibly dangerous. There is one in particular I have been tracking for some time now, and as you can imagine, he is less than happy about that; lately he has been sending his underlings to try and throw us off.”

“And that rock will keep them away or something?”

“Unfortunately, no. However, if you hold it in your left hand and whisper my name, I will be able to find you no matter where you are in the universe. I urge you, though, to only use it in an emergency.”

As he spoke, the burrito slipped the cord over Sawyer’s head. They held the stone in their hand, running a thumb over its surface. It almost looked like something they could pick up in one of those weird new age shops.

“...Thanks. But how will I know it’s an emergency? What should I look for?” The way Three Meat made things sound, it was hard not to picture teams of ninja-like assassins.

“Anything strange or out of the ordinary.”

“Like the two of you?”

“Exactly!” Shadow chirped.

“The Greys thrive on mayhem and confusion, Sawyer-creature, and will do things as small as filling your shoes with something foul to things as dire as transforming people into bread, or unleashing terrible monsters on unsuspecting citizens. That is what makes them so insidious; their antics can begin in plain sight, but go unnoticed until the problem is too big to be contained.”

“That’s... horrifying,” Sawyer breathed.

“Indeed.”

“But they’re totally easy to spot, if you, like, know what to look for,” Shadow added. “I mean, we call them Greys because they’re grey. So like, even when they’re pretending to be something else, their colors are always wrong, like they’re not bright enough. And when they’re not pretending, they’re like even more obvious because they don’t even have faces! They try to hide it behind huge sunglasses, and the kicker is that it usually works! I guess most people are, like, too busy to look too closely at them or something, so they just scoot on past until they find someone to mess with.”

Under different circumstances, Sawyer would think a description like that was just somebody taking the mickey; Three Meat really had them going with the “mysterious forces of chaos” angle, but Shadow’s “they don’t have faces” bit was just too much. Then a flower on the other side of the clearing blinked an eye, and they decided the two of them were absolutely telling the truth.

“Right. Great. That’s lovely. Anything else I should know?”

“They can like, totally turn into this grody goo and slither through cracks between walls and floors and stuff, and they bleed black when you cut them. They also just kind of, like... melt away when they take too much damage? I’m not sure you can actually kill them.”

“Of course. That makes perfect sense,” they said dryly.

“There is a bit of a learning curve when the Greys are involved,” Three Meat admitted, “which is why we have offered our help, should you meet them. But let us hope Shadow-creature is wrong about your smell, and they leave you alone after all.”

Sawyer took one more look at the stone before tucking it under their shirt with a sigh; it seemed they now had yet another thing to worry about. They glanced around the strange, alien forest that the burrito called “Scotland”, and then at the burrito himself.

“...Can I go home now? Today has been just so many kinds of weird.”

“Of course, if you are sure you are ready. Do you have any more questions?” he asked.

Sawyer still had plenty of questions, but wasn’t so sure they could handle the answers—not without a hot meal and a good night’s sleep, at any rate. Besides, if they were lucky, they would never need to know the answers... right?

“I’m sure.”

“Then it shall be done.”

Three Meat slithered a few feet away. Once he had enough space, he reared up, his front end glowing with energy, and then slammed back down. Some debris was knocked off of him by the impact, and out from the shockwave opened a hole in thin air with that same laminated paper sound. Sawyer had had their eyes closed the first time, but was now able to appreciate how truly impressive it was as the edges of the hole glowed and crackled.

Through the hole they could see the street they had been walking on earlier. The sun had nearly set by now, and the frigid wind blew out of their familiar world and into the foreign one they were currently standing in.

“So... that’s it, then? I just go through?”

“Yes, Sawyer-creature. You just go through.”

“Oh. I sort of thought there would be more to it than that...”

“Not at all. Although if it were easy to do, then everyone would do it.”

“Yeah... no kidding. I suppose I’m off, then. Thanks for the rock. And the philosophy lesson. And for not killing me.”

“Any time, kid,” Shadow said with a grin. “Just, like, from now on, remember the first rule of adventuring; never pick up a strange dagger unless you know who it belongs to and what it does.”

“That’s the first rule of adventuring?”

“Well. That, or ‘don’t drink the weird glowing liquid’. Either way.”

For the first time since passing the gate, Sawyer laughed.

“I... guess I’ll see you. Or maybe not; I’ll probably be in trouble if I ever see you again, huh?”

“That is a fair assumption, Sawyer-creature. All the same... stay out of trouble. And farewell.”

“Yeah. Farewell, Three Meat. Shadow.”

They gave the pair an awkward wave, then turned and stepped through the portal and were met with the same odd sensation as before, as well as that battery taste. As they looked back over their shoulder, they saw that the portal was already closing.

“Oh, and Sawyer-creature? Do not bother telling anyone about us. Nobody will believe you.”

And with that, the hole in reality swirled shut like water spinning down a drainpipe. The cold wind blew, and this time, the rain came with it.

Typical, Sawyer thought as they once again brought their hood up over their ears and jammed a hand into their pocket. Their other hand reached up to the stone; a reminder that today had been exceedingly atypical. And as they thought about it, they found they were surprisingly okay with that.

This can go one of three ways, they reasoned. One, nothing happens and life goes back to normal. Two, you get taken out by some weird, grey chaos thing and you don’t have to worry about your bills anymore. Or three, that burrito comes back and you go on a crazy adventure, and you still don’t have to worry about your bills.

The way they saw it, there wasn’t exactly a downside. Well. Dying would be less than ideal, but what’s wrong with a little dark humor now and then?

They were thoroughly soaked by the time they got back to their apartment, but they didn’t really care; the plan was to change into pajamas, make some instant noodles for dinner, and go straight to bed anyway.

Sawyer did exactly that, feeling a little surprised at how... uneventful it all seemed compared to the rest of the day. They found themself half wishing they would turn around and see the burrito, or the cat, or even one of the mysterious Greys. As opposed to the idea as they had been initially, they were almost excited to think that such things could and did exist. Their imagination ran wild, like a little kid’s, and a couple times they thought that maybe the red kettle didn’t look as red as it should, or that perhaps the plant in the hall seemed almost sinister. Sawyer stopped themself just short of jamming their fork into the milk carton to see if the liquid ran black instead of white.

As they crawled into bed, they put the stone on their nightstand, rolling over to look at it once they had settled in beneath the covers. Part of them wanted to try it right now, to see if Three Meat would really come, but part of them felt like that would be... what? A breach of trust? Or at the very least a misuse of power. Then there was another part of them that felt childish for even believing it would work; for all they knew, the stone would be gone when they woke up the next morning.

The blankets were warm, however, and were simply perfect after walking home in the cold and wet, and the mattress was so soft on their aching muscles; they weren’t exactly used to running and jumping and being picked up. Soon, their thoughts became hazy and Sawyer drifted off to sleep, met with images of grinning cats and fashion-challenged burritos. The rain continued pounding outside, but Sawyer was safe and warm, even as the occasional flash of lightning lit up the night and washed everything in grey.

#Eldritch Burrito; Three Meat #What Do You Mean I'm A Protagonist???; Sawyer #Owl Witch's Grimoire; Drabbles #Chitchat Kitty Cat; Shadow

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olympus-summit · 3 years

Text

Nesting Owls | Carmen + Nemesis + Shinobu | Epilogue

[ General CWs for full document: Dehumanization, PTSD, unwanted romantic advances, victim-blaming (both internal and external) ]

When the illusion imprinted upon them finally comes crashing down, another family takes root in the wreckage of what was once their reality. It takes a while for them to truly bloom, but after over a hundred and fifty years, what’s waiting a couple more years gonna hurt? They finally have a future ahead of them.

- - -

In a rare moment of rest among the hours of tireless work - dutifully studying over a century of information, with as much skill and precision as she did in her collegiate era - the Doctor decides that she really ought to decide on this new name.

Her new moniker is one of practicality, one forged for survival - she could not bear to be falsely referred to as Adelina any longer, and she needed a replacement. So she found some justice, in asserting her title. After countless colleagues looked down on her and refused to acknowledge her work, after they echoed the years of dismissal she got for factors beyond her control, they would now be forced to respect her title or not refer to her at all. It was almost poetic.

But she’s never been one for poetry. It served its purpose in the moment, but the moment has passed - she does not live out of spite. She does not wish to be defined by those who despise her, not in any way shape or form.

She’s decided on a new first name, at the very least. Carmen. After Carmen Rivera - who is her own mother, in a sense. She is not Adelina, but she did live with her for 24 years - she maintains her memories, until their paths diverged. She still remembers Mama’s work ethic, her grit and determination, her ability to get through to even the most problematic students. She still remembers Mama’s off-key singing voice and her gentle kisses and her kind words. She still remembers loving and being loved.

She’ll need that energy, in the long years to come. She’s long dead - but she can still honor her, still keep a piece of her with her.

Eventually, she comes up with a middle name - also to honor a woman she loved who has passed. Carmen Grace. After her late sister-in-laws maiden name. A connection to the past she’s lost without dwelling on it.

But then there’s the damned last name.

And she’s just not sure. And she’s been stuck there, because she really can’t justify to herself trying to research last names during a time like this.

Conversely, Nemesis had decided on a last name immediately. He hadn’t announced it right away, there were other things to focus on, but even on that first day when he’d realized he wanted a new name, the ideas had come to him. It felt almost natural, inasmuch as anything about this situation could. And so when the topic comes up with Carmen, he mentions casually enough what he’s chosen - Lechuza. Like the story he’d shared with Setsuna all those days ago, like the one Evren’s mother used to tell him, that had stuck with him for so many years. It felt like a nice compromise of the new while acknowledging the old.

She asks to take his last name - which would sound like a pickup line if they weren’t so no hetero. But she likes the sound of it - Carmen Grace Lechuza. She and Nemesis - he’s her best friend, he’s like a brother to her. She quite liked it. Sharing a last name with him.

So she began her new life.

- - -

Just as Shinobu had promised, they take on the job of supervising Team Prometheus throughout their stay on the airship, acting as both a communication proxy to keep different parties from coming into direct conflict, and a wedge to separate people when tensions do boil over. That isn’t to say Shinobu is perfect: They can’t be in every conversation at once, of course. Shinobu also quickly learns that having to relay everyone’s requests and grievances recenters much of the stress onto themself – even worse when it turns out there are matters that can’t be compromised on and that trying only makes everyone more upset.

Shinobu de-stresses by splitting their free time between the pool and gym, and the library. The former because they are familiar pastimes, and because some strength training might come in handy if a fight actually does break out (and maybe a few extra pounds of muscle will finally shut up Montgomery if he starts on his gamer bro b.s. again). The latter because… because at the end of the day, Shinobu doesn’t have any practical skills to offer to either the Councilors or the world as a whole. Their sociology education is not just incomplete, but obsolete, and if Shinobu ever goes into that field again it will have to be by starting from square one, after it’s safe to land the airship for good.

Plus, there are gaps in the Council’s knowledge that aren’t covered by doctors and programmers and revolutionaries. If they’re going to distribute all of Titan Production’s agricultural secrets to the public domain, then someone here’s gotta learn how to grow a damn potato. When Shinobu supervises Team Prometheus as they prepare themselves for farm life, they make sure to take their own notes. They wouldn’t dare call themself an environmental expert, but at least they’ll have some idea which suitable climates to raise Titan’s proprietary crops in without destroying the local ecosystem already there. Besides, being an ambassador to the real ecological experts will probably be less stressful than being an ambassador to their own torturers.

Until the day comes that they can return to society, Shinobu continues to work, cramming studies in not just the environment but in language, hoping to one day be fluent enough in Spanish and English to not rely on auto-translation devices. While they aren’t certain yet if they even have a place to call home anymore… Right now, home feels like Room 2. Home feels like Carmen commenting on her discoveries about the present-day world and how she plans to reclaim her life and education when she returns. Home feels like Nemesis grumbling about the complications in reverse-engineering Titan’s technology. Home feels like bringing them both some fried rice, because someone here’s gotta make sure they’re both eating well and Shinobu’s getting used to making low-effort bulk meals now.

If this is the sort of home Shinobu can expect in the future too, then the least they can do is make sure they’ll fit in.

- - -

Much of Nemesis' remaining time on the ship is spent closing the hundred and fifty year gap in his technological knowledge, a task made easier as much by the decades of stagnation as his own genius, and on coding and coordinating the takedown of Titan. It goes remarkably smoothly, so much so that even for weeks afterwards he continues the systematic dismantlement and erasure, making sure he leaves not even a scrap for them to work with long after the public has learned too much for Titan to ever re-stabilize anyway. He goes through their servers with a figurative fine-toothed comb and bricks everything he gets his talons into.

It's not quite as satisfying as it would have been to see them burn, but Nemesis isn't who he used to be. The people he's formed connections with have made him better. No less angry, but now with a reason not to give into that anger - several reasons, in fact…

There isn't a lot of free time in the early days, but Nemesis fights his innate workaholic nature to make room for talks with Shinobu. Being around them is the closest he can get to feeling relaxed. There's no pressure, no sense of obligation, no concern about how they'll handle any particular truth about him, because they already know it all. It's unlike any relationship he's ever been in before, though the discussion over what their relationship is only seems to make it more ambiguous. They agree to take their time, to let things happen naturally, to get done the more pressing matters that need attending to and then see where that leaves or leads them.

Mostly, Nemesis finds, it leads them to keep sharing a room, and collapsing into the same bed at the end of a busy day. Even after the airship has landed and they've all received asylum in Castanea, when there are more than enough rooms to go around, the only times he gets any sleep at all are when he's curled up next to Shinobu. And he thinks he's alright with that.

They’re alright with Nemesis, too. More than alright. Even if they’re often too exhausted from work to do more than curl up together to share a meal or a nap, it’s moments like those that reassure Shinobu that they can be a normal person living a normal life, and that there’s a more personal reason besides vengeance and justice to fight for a better future.

The truth is, though, it isn’t just the current priorities that make Shinobu want to slow the pace. Knowing everything about Nemesis means knowing about the impact left on him not just by Titan and the Summit, but by Evren’s memories. Shinobu never wants to make him feel like he is obligated to be with them just because they’re the only guy here he can date. Nor do they want him to think they only care about the solace he offers.

Shinobu refuses to make Nemesis ever feel used and discarded again. They won’t dare allow themself to promise a future together before they’re absolutely sure their feelings are genuine. Shinobu’s found that a lot of things about themself they assumed were genuine had been manipulated by the Summit, after all. Their slow-burning pace is as much for their sake as it is for Nemesis.

Still, though. Still, their heart flutters every time they see the way Nemesis’s face lights up whenever he makes a new discovery about modern technology. Still, their breath catches in their throat when they wake up and find he’s still sleeping peacefully by their side. Still, their stomach churns with anxiety over whether or not they’ll be able to stay together after their work is done. Still, they’re overcome with a wave of relief when the airship lands, no one dies, and Nemesis embraces and asks them where they want to go next, together.

Still, Shinobu thinks they might be falling in love. (And they’re not the only one.)

- - -

And life continues.

#chapter 6 #adelina #evren #shinobu #submission

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