#i get stomp and holler every year and i have no fuckin idea what it is exactly
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#i really want to talk to whoever names the spotify genres#i get stomp and holler every year and i have no fuckin idea what it is exactly#i feel like its vaguely associated with like the decembrists and mumford & sons?#and while i am very much an indie folk bitch i have never gone for either of those bands
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saint. || soobin🌪(7)
🖤┊𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 . ೄྀ࿐
𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗
𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙/𝖆𝖚
𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙; 2200
“did you tell your mom that you’re almost there?”. soobin asks while driving. “yeah. why are you so worried you look nervous?”. soobin laughs and pushes his hair back with his hand. “I don’t want her to try to kill you or something for being out a little more than she expected”.
“when she really wants me home she’d call me like 30 times. But since she probably thinks i’m doing something that’s beneficial for me she’s cutting me a little slack. still expects me to be home though”. soobin nods.
“so you have curfews?”.
“unfortunately”.
“what do you mean unfortunately? that’s good that they want you home by a certain time”.
“I mean not for an 18 year old at least”.you say, and soobin shrugs,
“honestly you wouldn’t want to be out that late for anything. even parties get too wild once it starts hitting 10″.
“yeah but i wouldn’t know anyways. If my parents found out that i was partying they’d put me on house arrest”. soobin laughs once more, smoothly pulling up to your stop.
“do you want me to piggy back you to the door? I’ll do it right now”.
“no soobin i’ve been trying to tell you I could walk almost all day now. but thank you”. you smile before sliding out of your seat with your backpack. it really wasn’t such a hard task to walk even with the pain. It wasn’t like you had some fatal basketball injury or something.
“be a good girl!”. soobin yells out to you as you approach your door. you wave him off before going into the house. he chuckles and drives off. He pulls into the driveway of his house shortly after, being welcomed by his friends who were sitting beside the pillars on his doorstep waiting for him.
“what the hell are you guys doing here?”. soobin grins, he didn’t mind but only because his parents weren’t home. He jogs to the doorstep to unlock his door for them all and they spill inside his home. They’ve been there once or twice when his parents were really nice about it but never for long though. While holding the door soobin watches them all walk in one by one. Michael, Minho, Seongjun, Kevin, Beomgyu, and some random guy that he didn’t recognize.
soobin pulled him back by the collar of his shirt.
“who are you?”. he questions. Beomgyu quickly comes to the boys’ rescue.
“chill, don’t kill him. this is my boy yeonjun I thought i’d bring him along to hang with us”.
“beomgyu all of you came to my house uninvited so why would you invite someone else?”.
the rest of the boys laugh in the kitchen while raiding his fridge. Soobin glares down at the blue haired boy and aggressively releases him, almost throwing him on the floor.
“What’s your full name?”.
“Choi Yeonjun”. he admits, fixing his shirt.
soobin points at him and looks at beomgyu in confusion.
“he’s a choi?”.
“yeah but low key I think he’s from the poorer side of the family”.
“there’s no such thing as a poor choi, beomgyu”.
beomgyu shrugs.
“I don’t know I met this fool like last week when I was skipping class”.
soobin face palms himself before picking his head up again.
“does your parents have money to your name?”. yeonjun nods at the question.
“so this motherfucker rich too? damn! when am I going to get my inheritance?”. michael joked copping a squat on the living room couch with a can of cola in his hand.
“michael shut your broke ass up”. beomgyu retaliates while slapping michael’s head before heading to the kitchen, leaving soobin and yeonjun still at the front door. soobin just stares at him.
“why the hell you so scary?”. he asks in an overbearing tone. being quite intimidated yeonjun felt the need to defend himself.
“why the hell you so loud?”. he retorts.
“because this is my fuckin house and I have the right to be”.
“this is not your fuckin house it’s your parents house until they die. then it’s your house. are you forgetting that I’m a choi too?”.
“who the fuck are you talking to like that?”. soobin booms stepping closer.
“yo gyu come get your boys man”. kevin hollered overhearing them both. beomgyu jogs back to the foyer standing in front of the two.
“ladies ladies! simmer down just a littl--”.
“no you need to check your boy gyu”. soobin interjects pointing in his face.
“shut your bitch ass up”. yeonjun hisses.
“yo yo! how about we just chill? I bought some beers with me. we can all have a good time”. beomgyu settles shifting his eyes between yeonjun and soobin.
“man whatever”. soobin rolls his eyes. he didn’t have the energy to keep arguing with yeonjun. plus he secretly liked him anyways, because he knew how to defend himself.
“someone is in your driveway”. minho informs snatching back the curtains. Soobin cocked an eyebrow. “In my driveway?”. he opened his front door to see a blue sports car parked right behind his. He waited a bit to see who it was. out of the passenger seat came Mia who--well lets just say fury was an understatement. “oh shit”. beomgyu mutters. Soobin shuts the door behind him and tells the boys to stay inside. They all watch from the window.
“Are you fucking serious soobin? Like seriously are you for real?!”.
“what the fuck are you talking about?”. he calmly asks with his hands shoved in his pockets. she approaches him angrily.
“you fucking set me up what else would I mean?!”.
“nobody set you up”.
gritting her teeth she throws pointless punches at his chest. I say pointless because they barely hurt soobin.
“why the fuck are you lying?! you brought me to that hotel and you let your friends run a train on me that’s so fucked up on so many levels!!”. she screamed. soobin smirked.
“well did you enjoy it like I said?”.
with steam almost coming out of her ears at this point mia raises a hand and slaps him across his face. soobin clenched his stinging jaw in anger.
“fuck you!! fuck you you’re a jerk!”.
“don’t put your fucking hands on me”. soobin warns. and mia didn’t care of course. she lifts her hand and slaps again much harder than before. The boys covered their mouths while they watch from afar.
“what did you get out of it huh?! huh?! is that how sick you are?! get your kicks out of seeing girls’ lives ruined?”. she shoves him backward.
“let me tell you something. that shit is going to haunt me for the rest of my life I’ll never get that moment back!”. she screams and broke out into full fledge tears. She raises her hand once more but this time soobin grasps it, he took every drop of liquid his mouth could muster and spat it right in her face.
“I don’t give a fuck. you’re an attention seeking slut who does anything to be popular. let’s share that moment on our social media page”. he snarls before coldly going back into his house with a slamming door.
mia just stood there, not believing the fact that she had saliva dripping down her forehead.
“I hate you choi soobin!!!”. she shrieks to the top of her lungs and stomps her way back to her car. All eyes were on soobin once he walks through his front door. most of them had their mouths still covered with the exception of beomgyu who just stood there with his jaw practically touching the floor.
“did you just spit on mia howard?”. yeonjun asks.
“yeah i’m sorry who are you again?”. soobin replies being the ass that he was. yeonjun sucks his teeth and rolls his eyes. He was about to say something before he was cut off.
“bro what the hell did she say to you?”. kevin’s next to ask.
“some bullshit about how I ruined her life because you guys fucked her”.
yeonjun blinks.
“wait a minute. you all fucked Mia howard?”.
“yup. choo choo!”. minho sounds with his lips taking another sip of his drink. yeonjun’s eyes bulge out of his sockets.
“you surprised by that? who hasn’t fucked Mia howard”. seongjun adds.
“me!”. yeonjun punctuates.
“I mean besides the fact that shes the most popular girl in school you not missing out on shit”. beomgyu chimes in.
“she’s the sexiest girl in school too”. yeonjun adds again resulting in a rage among the guys. all of them shouting ‘woah!’ sounding like seagulls.
“definitely most popular but i’d never say the prettiest”. seongjun says shortly after.
“hell yeah you know her best friend olivia bro? she can get it any day of the week”. beomgyu admitted.
“why don’t you give it to her then?”. soobin challenged.
“she not going to fuck me because she knows I’m no good”.
“get her drunk. you have a bar in your house don’t you?”. soobin pointed out.
“relax soobin. he has to take it slow. get her to send you nudes first and go from there”. seongjun informs and they all nod in agreement.
“that’s some smart shit”, beomgyu agrees.
“I got in idea though”. minho spoke.
“we should make a list of the sexiest girls in our grade. from the prettiest to the ugliest and just slap that shit on a bulletin board somewhere in school”.
as childish as it was, they actually all got excited from that idea. so they all put their heads to the test. It was quite a depressing morning for some females in the Academy of saint joseph’s when the entirety of the school read it and saw their rankings.
you however were too busy in the history room doing your extra credit work to care. “did you see the list”. you overheard way too many girls say. “yeah honestly i thought I’d rank higher than that”. their friend would reply in the most somber tone. you wondered why they cared about how someone ranks them anyways. Plus, who ever made the list where A-list jerks in your opinion.
no matter where you went everyone was talking about it. You haven’t overheard one single female who was happy with their spot on it. It was sorrowful to hear. since you didn’t have anyone else to share your thoughts with on the subject you waited patiently until your astronomy class with soobin. you sat diligently at the table you guys shared together. there happened to be another video watching today and Sister helena was counting on you to keep soobin in check.
on the brink of the late bell soobin, kevin and beomgyu strolled in.
“you guys are almost late. hurry to your seats”.
“keyword: almost. you mad for no reason”. kevin rebuttals and laughs while taking his seat right in front of soobin who slid in the chair next to you, asking you how your knee was doing. beomgyu sits across them both.
“today we will be watching a video on Dark Matter. I will be handing out questions for you and your partner to work together and fill out by the end of the class. If this task is not completed you will get half points for today’s grade”.
sister helena explains before she rolls the big tv in the room for you all to see.she turned off the lights and started the dvd. it was malfunctioning though, so it took her a little longer than usual to get it fixed. In the meantime the class was talking amongst themselves about that one thing,
the list.
“soobin have you saw the list yet?”. you ask rather quietly.
“of course I have”. he replies.
“what do you think of it?”. soobin shrugs.
“eh. it’s just a list”.
“so you don’t think that’s a bad move to make? ranking people on the way they look?”.
“behind the list lies people with opinions. no one is required to believe them. they just do”.
“come on soobin that’s messed up don’t you think?”. kevin smirks to himself overhearing you. he turns around.
“I don’t know why you’re so worried. I don’t even think your ugly ass is on the list because you ranked so low”.
he said, of course loud enough for everyone to hear. loud enough for everyone to laugh. and they did. All you could do was sit there with a giant lump in your throat feeling nothing but sorry for yourself.
“bro relax”. soobin hisses and kevin scoffs before turning around in his seat.
“alright class simmer down. the film is beginning”. St.helena warns and you were grateful for her even though she didn’t hear anything. you were just glad she made everyone stop.
so ugly that you weren’t even up there? that was enough to make you cry. you felt your face grow hot replaying his words over and over. you didn’t want to care about that damned list which is why you haven’t even saw it yet. but based off of what kevin said you didn’t even want to see it.
you felt your lip start to quiver. soobin nudged you.
“hey don’t worry about him alright? he doesn’t know what he’s talking about”.
“try not to cry too loud, i didn’t see your name up there either”. Ava, one of mia’s friends whispers from beside you.
you glared at soobin with tears in your eyes. you didn’t want to care but, words couldn’t express how ugly you felt.
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that time i was like hey au where daryl gets sent back to the start of the apocalypse hehe but then i was like fuck! what IF!!!! and got emo thinking about it realistically and started writing it :(
He wakes up when it’s just him and Merle on the road.
He went to bed the night before, so incredibly fucking tired. After everything that had gone down those past few months - Beta being alive; the trek back to Alexandria; answering people’s questions about the future; fuckin’ Negan; Lydia not trusting nobody, including him; whatever shit Carol was going through - he was fucking wiped. Asskicker had managed to convince him to take her outside the walls, asked him to teach her how to hunt, how to track. They’d spent hours out there after first light, him showing her some of the basic stuff; how to tell apart different tracks, how to set quick effective traps, other small things. She told him ‘bout Michonne leaving. Daryl had a few thoughts about that, but Jude already looked like she was one bad feeling away from crying, so he shifted focus and changed the subject. She’d picked up tracking quickly, almost quicker than Beth had. Had turned to him at one point of the day after they’d stopped to have lunch, begging to stay outside for a few more hours. Wanting to practice more. He wasn’t exactly a seasoned pro at saying no to her, he had a bad habit of giving in quickly to most of the kids he knew, but the Whisperer’s group was still at large - Beta and his followers were still out there - and after a few promises and compromises, he’d convinced her to come back inside the gates. Told her he’d let her take the lead the next time they came out, warning her it couldn’t be the next day, reasoning he had things he had to do back home, but promised her they could come back out soon. After they’d walked back inside the walls, he made a small appearance at dinner, checked in with the people on guard duty, then headed to the Grimes’ house. Fell onto his bed without even taking his shoes off and crashed. Next thing he knew, he was waking up to a rough kick to the legs and Merle’s cheery voice.
“Wasting daylight, Darleena, c’mon, chop chop, let’s go!” - he claps his hands - “time to wake the fuck up.” Merle adds another kick for good measure before walking off. Daryl pushes up onto his elbows, looking around and trying to get a grasp of where they are and what time it is, before giving up almost immediately when his brain catches up and realises if Merle’s here, he’s dreaming. Or hallucinating. Either way, this ain’t real. He sits up slowly before thinking - fuck it. Might as well see his brother while he’s around. He makes a move and gets up, grabs his jacket from where it was being used as a makeshift pillow, and heads outside. The area looks vaguely familiar but also like every wood Merle and him have ever camped in, so he continues walking over to where Merle’s standing before sitting down and grabbing the spoon and can his brother left out for him.
“No biters so far, but we should keep movin’, get ahead of the ones travellin’ out from the city,” Merle starts, nods his head to his pile stuff that’s already packed up, and stands, stomping out the small fire he had going. “This spot’s gonna be overrun before we can blink. We gotta move out.” Merle wanders off beyond the tree line, muttering something about taking a piss, yelling a “Hurry up and pack your shit!” over his shoulder before disappearing. Daryl nods to himself, quickly shovels what’s left of the can in his mouth and scans the area to figure out what stuff there’s still left to pack. Thinks to himself that it’s a stupid ass dream he’s having, Merle bossin’ him around and making him clean up. Makes him feel like he’s 4 years old again, doin’ Merle’s chores for him.
By the time Merle walks back over, Daryl’s got the tent and sleeping bag all folded up and put together, his bow leaning against the his bike, bag packed and ready to go.
“We good?” Merle asked, grabbing his own collection of things and walking over, standing next to his own ride.
Daryl does one last sweep before nodding and asks which way they’re going as he mounts his bike.
Merle gives him a look, “The fuck you mean, ‘Which way we goin’?’ done told ya, we been over this five times already.” He shakes his head before climbing his bike, starts the engine and rides out. Daryl shrugs and follows. Dream Merle’s as temperamental as real life Merle. Daryl can roll with that.
They ride for the rest of the day, taking mainly back roads and hidden trails they only know about cause they grew up round these parts, avoiding highways as much as possible, still only making it barely 2 hours from where they first started that morning. Daryl follows while Merle leads, stopping twice to try find some gas. He spends the first hour or so feeling guilty, feeling like actual fucking shit, watching Merle zip around abandoned cars, using signals to direct him, wondering how Merle got so faded in his memory. Turns out theres nothing like having the ghost of his dead brother right in front of him to make him realise how many small details Daryl’s forgot about him, how much his memory’s erased him over time.
He spends the rest of the day taking everything in, getting familiar again. Merle’s about as loud and annoying and chatty and demanding as Daryl remembers. Still a pain in the ass, but Daryl forgot about the way Merle told his stories; not just with words, but with his hands, his face. Forgot about how it was Merle who taught him how to ride. How no matter how good Daryl gets on his bike, how many little tricks he learns, how many rides he fixes; he’s always just gonna be second best to Merle. For a second, he wonders why he’s dreaming about this specific part of his life, but figures this isn’t exactly the first time he’s dreamt of Merle, and it’s probably not gonna be the last. Takes a moment to consider whether or not there’s a reason to be dreaming this vividly - a head injuries or an attack. Think’s to himself - maybe he’s dead and his afterlife is just him and Merle, riding around together on their bikes. Rolls his shoulders and jerks his head, tells himself he’s not fucking dead.
Merle’s up ahead, ranting about some shit Daryl wasn’t there for and hollering at his own punchline. Daryl kinda wants to tell him to shut the fuck up but can’t bring himself to say it. He hasn’t heard Merle’s voice outside of his dreams and hallucinations for almost 9 years. It always shakes him up, how much he misses him. Decides if this is a dream, he ain’t about to complain.
He keeps riding.
He’s on first watch that night when they settle into a spot, Merle asleep in his tent after having a beer and a smoke. Daryl keeps scanning the treeline and surrounding woods, more out of muscle memory than protection, too distracted thinking about the day he’s just had. Merle’s here, alive and well, being one of the most warm and comforting illusions Daryl’s had in years. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, the last time he didn’t have blood covering his hands. Feel’s like a prick for being so dramatic; it’s not like he’s Maggie, Michonne, or hell - the King. Never had to bare those responsibilities the way they’ve had do. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand as he sits, shifts his focus to something else. Tries to think about what he’s gonna say to Lydia tomorrow. He knows Negans talk with her ended with them both in tears, her storming out; know’s she doesn’t trust any of them anymore. Gives up and sighs when he realises he’s got no choice but to accept that he’s got no fucking idea how to reason with a teenager, how to word things so she can understand, especially with her well earned trust issues and abandonment complex.
Him and Merle switch out a few hours later, Merle on watch and Daryl sleeping. Daryl gives Merle a clap on the back as they pass each other, know’s when he wakes up tomorrow it’s just gonna be him in the Grimes’ basement. He has a brief second where he thinks about saying fuck it and giving Merle a hug, but decides against it. Not like they were ever the touchy feely type to begin with.
When he wakes up the next morning, it’s bright as fuck. There’s birds chirping, there’s whistling, some clinking of a fork hitting metal. Merle’s voice carrying. Daryl pats himself down, takes in how he’s in the same clothes he went to sleep in, the same tent, and quickly gathers his bow and his knife and rushes outside the tent.
“The hell?” Merle yells, doing a double take as Daryl stands there, crossbow up and aimed. “The hell’s got your panties in a twist? Jesus, fuck. You dreamin’ about the chupacabra again? Bigfoot? Good Lord.” He bends down and starts rummaging around his bag, “Here, calm the fuck down, eat this,” holding out a bar and passing it over, muttering under his breath “jump out of the tent, gun’s blazing, fuck me, give me a damn near heart attack.”
Daryl slowly lowers his bow and stands there for a few seconds before stepping forward slowly and grabbing the snack, staring at Merle the whole time. He takes a bite or two then throws it back before tightening his grip on his weapon, bending down to grab a bottle for some water then heads for the trees without a word. Merle calls out to him, telling him to catch some rabbit instead of squirrel this time. Daryl doesn’t acknowledge him.
He’s still there when Daryl gets back.
Daryl decides he’s fucking done with this dream. Doesn’t get why his subconscious couldn’t give him a greatest hits reel. Like, yeah, let him remember his time with his brother, but maybe also let him relive some of the early days on the farm or some of the early days in Alexandria. Remember the run that he, Jesus, Tara, and Aaron went on that one time. Maybe remember the first time Judith attempted to say his name. The day he and Dog found each other. Maybe even let him relive some days before the fucking world ended.
It takes less than a minute for the guilt to set in, instantly feeling like a prick. Merle died for him and for his family, and he’s fucking missed his brother. So what if Dream Merle never stops complaining? He fucking wishes life would go back to being this simple, when these were his biggest problems. Wishes Merle could’ve made it this far. Could’ve seen what was to come, what they could’ve built.
When he wakes up the next morning, Merle’s still there. Still chatty, still loud, still wanting food they don’t have. Still got 20 different opinions about things that don’t even matter anymore.
4th morning in and he wakes up to Merle having a smoke and thinks maybe, possibly, something’s going on. Maybe it’s more than just a dream. Feels like he should try and figure his shit out. Weighs the options of it being just a really elaborate dream, or a massive mind fuck hallucination. His mind provides the term ‘time travel’ but Daryl’s not gonna fucking acknowledge that. Wonders if he got a head injury without realising and he’s in a coma. Maybe this is what Rick felt like back when he woke up at the start of all this. He quirks a lip up at the irony.
The 5th day in is when he knows something is definitely fucking going on.
The 5th day is when they run into the Atlanta group. He spots Shane and T-Dog first, then Glenn and Lori. Daryl steps back, tries to think if he’s ever dreamt about Lori or about Shane, while Merle steps forward and does all the talking again. It’s an exact replica of the last time this happened. They all come to the same uneasy agreement to let the brothers stay, Glenn swaying the result in their favour again. Daryl feels sick. Glenn’s talking, saying how it’ll be good to have people that know how to hunt, who know what’s safe to eat from the woods, how useful it’ll be to have more muscle. Daryl feels like he can’t fucking breath. He wants to run up to him, wants to fucking hug him, wants to throw up right there, on the spot. Instead he just stands there, takes in Glenn’s face and the lack of blood or brain matter, the way he looks and sounds so young, and tries to swallow the lump in his throat and breath. Merle starts moving forward and Daryl follows on auto pilot.
They make their way slowly onto the camp, the rest of the group looking as standoffish about the Dixon brothers staying as they did the first time. Daryl lets Merle deal with their shit, grabs his bow and heads out into the woods straight away. He hears Andrea scoff behind him.
Out in the woods, he tells himself he’s gonna take a moment to properly think shit through now, for real this time. Try and figure about what’s happening to him. Ain’t no way this is all just a fucking dream. Sure as shit ain’t no coma, either. Shit’s too fucking real. It’s been 10 years since the world went up in shit and he’s had enough knocks to the head to know his memories of the start are gonna be a little hazy. He tries to pinpoint certain moments but it’s rough, tries to remember the specifics of how things originally went down but knows that while he’s observant, always has been, he was still on the outskirts of the group. Wern’t ever really let in on all the details before their time at the farm and he never really put that much effort into learning earlier. He didn’t bother nobody and nobody bothered him.
The start was so fucking simple.
He guesses he remembers the general gist of some things. He can remembers standing back and letting Merle run the show. Doesn't remember Carol ever holding herself like that. Remembers the way Lori looked at him; like he was no better than the geeks, like it was him who her family was threatened by. Doesn't remember Sophia or Carl ever being that small. Remembers how Shane tried to be the leader, loud and tough. Wants to grab a knife and end Shane now, thinking about the story he spun of what happened to Otis. The night Glenn and him found Randall in the woods, neck broken, two sets of foot prints. He remembers Rick, and how he made being a leader look natural, almost effortless, how people just instinctively knew to trust him, to believe in him. How he had the entire group listening to him within a day of setting foot into camp.
The sound of trees rustling brings him back to the present and he snaps into action. Out in the woods ain’t no place to let down your guard, no matter how safe you think you are. He lets himself get pulled back into the task at hand, spotting something moving out of the corner of his eye and shakes himself off, catching everyone some dinner. Specifically aims to get Carls and Glenns favourites even though he knows their tastebuds don’t really adjust to road life until the farm falls.
It’s not enough, but it’s a start.
Glenn thanks him for dinner that night. Lori makes Carl say thanks, too. Sophia and Amy do it without any prompting. Daryl suddenly can’t stomach this, can’t sit here with his family and look at them, knowing whats to come. He excuses himself and goes to sleep wishing with everything in him that he could wake the fuck up now.
Lays there and chews at his thumbnail, thinks he doesn’t know how much longer he can talk to his ghosts.
Later that night in his tent, while Dale and Andrea keep watch and everyone sleeps, he reaches the conclusion that no matter what option he chooses, they’re all fucking crazy.
He’s not ready to deal with everything if it’s a permanent thing. Not ready for any of this to be real, to spend the next 8 years meeting everyone that’s ever mattered to him again. To look at them and remember how they died. Thinks he also isn’t ready to accept this could just be a dream, that he could wake up any minute now in a world without Glenn, without Carl, no Sophia. Most of his family fading back into his memories and dreams.
So he ignores the voice in his head and decides he’s gonna let it go, falls back into the safety of letting himself believe it’s a dream. Convinces himself he doesn’t wanna make waves if he’s just injured and unconscious and this is his minds way of trying to let himself heal. Even goes as far as to let himself feel pissed off about his minds idea of taking a peaceful trip down memory lane is by taking him to the beginning of the end, when the world went to shit.
If he’s being real with himself though, he has to admit that maybe those first few months of the apocalypse weren’t all that bad for him. It was just him and Merle and the bikes and his crossbow. No money problems, no close calls with the law, no more upperclass or businessmen around to look down on him for being redneck trailer trash.
He’s always felt more at home in the woods than any four walls and roof, knows how to navigate the stars, has been living off the land since before he could write. He was thriving when all this began. Wern’t close enough to anyone outside of Merle, never had anyone to worry about, anyone to lose.
The world turned upside down and he came out on top.
Merle brings up the plan to rob the camp a few nights later. They’re on watch together, Daryl having rigged up the perimeter with some string and cans; so they’re kinda just standing around, staring into the night. He talks under his breath with Daryl just in earshot, saying how they need to figure out the best things to take, then haul ass when they do. Whispers that they’re just gonna take the most useful stuff, how it’s not like these city slickers are gonna make it much further anyway. How they’re doing them a favour. Daryl thinks about Glenn in Alexandria, everything that went down with Nicholas and Noah. Throws his mind back to the prison, when he carried Carol out of the tombs after she survived for days on her own, after everyone had considered her dead. Takes a steadying breath and walks away, throwing a ‘whatever.’ over his shoulder.
They’ve been at the camp for just under two weeks when Merle goes to leave with Glenn and the others for the city. That’s when he starts to open himself up to the time travel option.
Everything up until this stage has been more or less calm. He gets up, he hunts, he takes watch, he sleeps. Rinse and repeat. Nothing strenuous, nothing life changing, just a peaceful two weeks of hanging out with his brother and his family.
He’d been rationalising everything to himself, telling himself that if he’s going through trauma and his mind’s officially breaking after 10 years of tragedies and losses, then this is okay. He’s happy to hang out here, back when things were simple and easy. He’s happy to see Carl and Sophia get homeschooled and run around and be kids. Happy to see Carl and Lori back together. More than happy to see Glenn float around camp and get into everything, learn about cars, hang out with the kids, plan trips to the city. Pretty fucking content to sit back and watch Carol and Sophia walk around together.
But then Merle mentions the city run, and Shane and Lori are having secret meetings outside camp together, and Ed’s going stir crazy, ranting about being stuck in the woods for weeks on end with no rescue mission in sight. Dales on top of the RV everyday, setting his watch, being on guard. And it’s too familiar. It’s fucking suffocating. It’s exactly how it went down the first time. Before he realises it, he’s volunteering himself to go on the run instead.
Merle laughs.
Glenn looks between the two brothers, trying to figure out the best approach. Daryl’s better in the woods, not that Merle’s bad, but Daryl’s got more patience than Merle could dream. He always comes back with more food than the older brother, will spend all day out there to make sure everyone at camp gets a full ration, even takes the time to help dress and skin the animals, showing the girls how to do it properly. Merle’s not as particular, more than happy to stroll back into camp with half the amount and ready to dump it and let the ladies do the work.
“You’re needed here, it’s fine. Merle can come with us.” Glenn reasons, “We’re only gonna be gone a few hours, in and out, no problem. We can handle Merle.”
“Yeah, that ain’t happenin’,” Daryl heads to his tent, grabs his crossbow and his backpack, double checks he has his knives, and heads out towards the truck.
Merle stops laughing the second he sees Daryls face and sees the serious look in his eyes, like Daryl thinks he’s already won the argument.
“Now, now, little brother, what on earth do you want with Atlanta?” he puts a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, holding him in place, “You stay here, keep these people feed, and Ol’ Merle will head into the city, keep these city slickers in line. We’re all good here.”
Merle makes a move to head to the truck, nodding at Glenn that things are settled, before Daryl speaks up again.
“You’re staying here, man. Glenn says the city’s overrun. If he’s gonna take a group for the first time, they need’a be quiet and quick. That ain’t you.” Daryl holds Merles eyes for a moment before moving past him, looking to Glenn and raising his eyebrows. “We good to go?”
Glenn glances between the brothers one last time before nodding at Daryl. “Yeah. We’re good. We gotta go now though, if we wanna be back before dark.”
Daryl nods and looks at Merle one last time before making a move to go stand near the back of the truck, waiting for T-Dog while everyone slowly resumes what they were doing. Merle stays standing in the same spot, looking on in part disbelief and part pissed off. Daryl looks on from the corner of his eye, watching as Merle stalks off to his tent before stomping back out and heading for the trees. The camp seems to let out a sigh of relief in his absence and Daryl feels guilty to leave them with him, especially considering his mood, but then remembers how Merle never returned from this trip the first time.
He tells himself that this is the right move, that Merle can make it this time, he can grow to care for the group the same way Daryl did the first time ‘round. Merle can be a fucking asshole at the best of times, but he knows how to care when you give him a reason. If you’re unlucky enough to have him as an enemy, you better run; but if you’re one of the lucky ones that he considers kin, he’ll have your back for life.
#me posting this for me -4 followers :))))))))))))))))))))))#im never gonna finish this becos my writing is not It but i can try!!!!!!!!!!!!#everything about like s7+ can be read as au becos i havnt seen it so im just connecting dots of gifsets and rants i see#m#text
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Phew, finally finished and edited and everything. Huzzah. /passes out
This was supposed to be an easy day, was all Tavi could think when the hair on the back of her neck started a familiar prickling sensation. With a sigh of lamenting resignation, she tugged on Aloth’s arm-”We need to go. Now.”-dragging him away from the vendor’s cart they’d been perusing.
Just in time to avoid the crossbow quarrel that sang so close past her head Tavi would swear she heard the whine in her ear before it buried itself in a support post.
Even caught off-guard, Aloth recovered quickly and gamely followed as she bolted toward a side street. “So, who’s trying to kill us now?”
She snorted, reaching back to grasp his hand, needing the reassurance he was there. “’Member those assholes I’ve been runnin’ from for thirty years? Ones who killed my family? Them.”
“So, no reasoning with them, then,” he commented dryly, sounding only slightly out of breath.
“I’d say you’re welcome to try-” she risked a glance over her shoulder, just in time to catch a glimpse of dark leathers and a grey cloak- “Shit. But I’ve lost too many people I care about to see you added to that list.” She dodged down an alley, pulling him after her.
“Not to point out the obvious,” Aloth began, skidding slightly as they rounded the corner. “But with three decades’ determination behind them, isn’t it likely they’ll keep chasing until they catch up?”
“Not likely, city slicker, it’s a fuckin’ fact,” Tavi retorted, flinching slightly as her shoulder grazed a wooden crate.
“Then why are we running?” He shifted course to avoid a puddle and had to let go of her hand. “You’re not usually one to run from a fight.”
“I’m choosin’ the field of battle. Can either fight ‘em in the market, where there’s tons a’ people who might get hurt and livelihoods t’ ruin, or on the outskirts, where the worst we’ll destroy is an already-abandoned house,” she replied, glancing back to make sure he was keeping up.
“I’m... mildly discomfited by the amount of thought you’ve put into this,” Aloth muttered, eyes dark. “It speaks of entirely too much practice.”
“Thirty years’ worth,” Tavi confirmed breathlessly. She reached for his hand again. “Less talk, more running.”
He nodded and the two of them continued on in silence, hands clasped together as they ran.
>|<
They wound up following a rather more convoluted route than Tavi would have liked--a lot of hoping alleys weren’t dead-ends--but they did reach what she deemed a suitable distance from the majority of the city relatively unscathed. (And what were a few bruises, really?)
They turned to face the way they’d come, wait for their pursuers, and she glanced over at Aloth. “If I counted right, there’s four of ‘em. You ready?”
He nodded, a flame shield shimmering into existence around him as the first of the men came into view.
Tavi stepped forward, instinct driving her to stay in the way of danger even when she wasn’t wearing full armor. Her hands rested on her sabres as she addressed the dark-clad figure. “And what do you want?”
“Your head, of course,” he shrugged, as if making small talk at a tea party. He nodded toward Aloth. “Don’t make this difficult and maybe we’ll let him go.”
She drew her blades, sizing up the man and the two others who had joined him. “Maybe ain’t convincin’ at all, ‘specially when I always win these little showdowns. It’s been thirty fuckin’ years, why dontcha just give up before I spur another recruitment drive?”
He ignored her goading, instead drawing a stiletto and nodding to his associates. The stockier of the two charged first, wielding a set of matching, beautiful, and incredibly dangerous looking daggers.
Even as Tavi braced herself to intercept him, Aloth hollered “Move!” and she dodged sideways instead. A huge lightning bolt crackled through the air toward their attackers, and she grinned wickedly as she realized that, in readying themselves to attack, the men had lined up oh-so-neatly.
The men realized it, too--a split second too late. Even as the leader and Stocky scrambled to get out of the way, the air seared white with the surge of electricity and caught every single one of them.
“I thought you said there were four?” Aloth said, pale blue glow of another spell already building around his hands.
“If I counted right!” Tavi reminded him, stepping forward toward Stocky. The man’s leather armor had somewhat dampened the effect of the lightning and he was recovering much faster than his fellows.
A quarrel slammed into the sand where her foot had been.
“See, four!” she called over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off her target. “Though he seems a tad slow.”
As if in retaliation, the next bolt sliced open her forearm.
“Son of a bitch,” Tavi growled, venting her frustration in two hard, fast strikes against Stocky. He managed to block one, but the other slashed into his shoulder and he yowled in pain. “We need to deal with him!”
“I think we have a more pressing concern at the moment!” Aloth retorted, urgency in his voice.
She spared brief glance toward the slim man who’d hung toward the back of his group. “Shit!” The word was all she got out before the incredibly familiar projectiles of a spell from the Minoletta family(those were Aloth’s favorites, of course she recognized them) streaked toward them. Specifically him. “Aloth!”
His flame shield flared brighter in her peripheral vision, and one of the missiles disintegrated completely upon contact. A second one ricocheted toward her, so only one made it through to actually hit Aloth. Tavi didn’t see how badly, thought, because the one headed her way slammed into her shoulder hard, making her lurch forward. She grit her teeth and leaned into it, using her momentum to slam into Stocky and knock the wind out of him. The leader reached her as Stocky doubled over. His stiletto glanced off her shoulder, her chain shirt keeping it from doing any real damage. And that’s why I always wear something, she thought darkly as she instinctively cranked her elbow back into his jaw.
He had good reflexes. Fingers like iron closed around her arm as his head snapped back, growling out curses. “If you’re too much trouble, maybe we make you watch him die. Take the fight outta ya,” he hissed as he twisted her arm behind her back.
“That would backfire really fuckin’ horribly on you,” Tavi snarled, using him for balance as she leaned back to kick Stocky in the face. He reeled backwards and fell. His head hit the ground with a sickening crack and he moaned as he tried to struggle back to his feet.
Tavi stomped on his hand and grinned when he and Slim yowled in pain almost in tandem. A quick glance at the attacking wizard and her grin turned almost feral. His clothes were still smoldering from whatever Aloth had done in retaliation, the wounds he’d sustained pulsing with an unnatural glow. His eyes narrowed in pain and fury as he began chanting another spell of his own.
In the brief respite he got from that threat, Aloth sent a bolt of necrotic energy lancing into the leader’s back.
The man grunted in pain, dropping to his knees and losing his grip on Tavi’s arm. “Change of plans, lads!” he barks. “Wizard first, then the scrapper!” The all obliged, turning their attention to Aloth.
Heartbeat pounding in her ears, arm throbbing from the abuse heaped upon it, Tavi let out a scream of rage as she whirled and slashed at the leader. She caught him across the throat mid-standing motion, and he dropped, clutching at the wound.
Well, that was lucky, she thought to herself, rolling her bad shoulder and feeling the entirely of her arm protest. That was when she noticed Stocky was moving--much faster than she would have expected--toward Aloth.
He was already out of her range, too close to Aloth, unless she threw one of her sabres. And she didn’t trust her aim right now. So she hollered a warning and headed for the enemy wizard instead, looking around for the elusive crossbow wielder as she ran. She heard the wicked hiss of another quarrel cutting through the air, heard Aloth’s breath catch, as if swallowing a cry of pain, but couldn’t afford to falter now.
She caught Slim off-guard, one sabre slashing into his grimoire as the other knocked aside his wand. They needed to finish this; her shoulder was screaming in pain and she had no idea how Aloth was doing. She took another swing at Slim with her good arm, sabre rending open the front of his robes. The wizard reeled back, clothes quickly turning crimson from the gash across his chest. He snarled and swung at her. It only half connected, but still hurt. Tavi shook it off and lunged forward, ramming her sabres into his chest up to their hilts.
There was a burst of magical energy behind her, and Tavi spun around just in time to see Stocky go reeling back from the impact of Aloth slamming his grimoire into the man’s chest. He crumpled lifelessly to the ground, empty eyes staring at the clear blue sky.
Tavi nodded in grim satisfaction, yanking her sabres free of the wizard and letting him tumble in a lifeless heap as well. “You alright, city slicker?”
Aloth nodded, despite the gash along his cheekbone. “Better than them, at any rate-” His expression hardened and he threw one hand forward with a hastily muttered incantation. Pale purple light formed around his hand and surged down the blade of his dagger, a trio of magic missiles racing forth to slam into the leader, who apparently had only been mostly dead and trying to rise to his feet. “Now we can focus on finding the individual with the crossbow.”
“Maybe he bolted?” Tavi suggested, smirking at the unintentional pun.
A brief smile tugged Aloth’s lips. “Somehow I doubt that. These seemed like very... driven individuals.”
“They are,” Tavi said with a sigh, scanning their surroundings for any sign of the lone survivor. “I was kinda hopin’ they’d given up, considerin’ I didn’t see hide or hair of ‘em the whole time we were chasin’ Thaos. Silly me.”
She really didn’t like that there was no trace of the archer. Especially knowing he was uninjured and fresh as a daisy. If he had more than one weapon on him, he could pick them both off before they had a clue. The hair on the back of her neck started tingling again, and Tavi grabbed Aloth’s arm. “We really shouldn’t be out in the open-”
A quarrel skimmed across the back of her hand and nicked Aloth arm.
“That was just a warning shot!” a heavily accented voice rang out, underscored by the ratcheting of a crossbow being reloaded. “Next one won’t miss!”
“Fuck you!” Tavi barked in roughly his direction, curling the wounded arm in against her chest. It had been a long time since she’d wanted to kill someone quite this badly. White speckled across her vision and it took a concentrated effort not to pass out as she and Aloth hid behind a partially-collapsed hut. “Still can’t tell where the copperfucker is.”
Aloth smiled thinly, not even trying to hide his concern as he looked at her arm. “You enjoyed learnin’ that one, didn’t ya?”
She nodded and leaned back against the wall, eyebrow twitching only fractionally at the hint of brogue creeping into his voice. Maybe she didn’t mind if Iselmyr showed up right now... “He’s all yours, city slicker. Assumin’ you... you have ways of hittin’ a target you can’t see?”
“Oh, aye.” There was definitely some Iselmyr in that grin. Aloth closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating hard. “I know just the thing.” His voice was back to normal. “Stay here.” He stepped out into the open once more. “I just need him to take another shot.”
Tavi nodded, ignoring the cold feeling in her gut and sliding toward the opposite corner of the ruined hut. She could hear Aloth chanting whatever spell he had in mind, trusted he knew what he was doing, but a little back up never hurt anybody.
Unfortunately, the gods didn’t agree with that. As she stepped around the corner, searing pain lanced through her knee. When Tavi looked down she was greeted by a growing crimson stain on her pant leg and a bloody quarrel embedded in the wall behind her.
“Son of a bitch,” she hissed, leaning against the wall and biting back a cry of pain into a whimper.
“I told you I would not miss.” The crossbow wielder stepped into view, nocking another quarrel as he stared at her. “This one won’t either. All of this scioderie and it didn’t help at all...”
“Go to Hel, bazzo!” Tavi spat, white knuckle grip on her sabre.
He just chuckled and aimed his crossbow at her. He never got to pull the trigger. The giant column of ice that sprouted from the ground saw to that. His smirk turned into a yowl of pain as splintering ice tore into his leg.
Tavi pushed away from the wall as he fell, hobbling forward close to impale him on her sabre. “Fuck. You,” she growled as she watched his pale eyes dim.
He fell with a small, choked gurgle and lay still. There was a sound of hurrying feet-”Tavi?”-and then a hand on her good arm. “Tavi!”
She turned and gave Aloth a wan smile. “Good timing.”
“When I said I needed him to take another shot, this is not what I meant,” Aloth said quietly, pulling her arm around his shoulders so he could support her.
“It’s not that bad,” she protested, leaning heavily against him.
“Tavi.” There was a note of fond concern in his voice as he helped her toward a low stone wall. “We need to get you to a healer.”
“It’s just a flesh wound,” she insisted as she sat on the wall and probed at the wound in her leg. “Just bandage me up and I’ll make it back to Caed Nua. Keya can take care of me.” She gestured briefly with her injured arm before letting it rest against her lap.
“Gods, no!” Aloth said vehemently, crouching to examine her leg. “It’ll take us least three days to get back. That’s more than enough time for them to start festering.”
Tavi was briefly distracted from the current debate by the angry red slash across his bicep. “What happened there?”
Aloth glanced toward the cut when she tapped just above it. “The one with the daggers got quite close. But it’s shallow and not at all life-threatening. Stop trying to change the subject.”
She huffed out a resigned laugh, trying to figure out how to explain her borderline-paranoia regarding strangers for the couple weeks following one of these attacks. Then again, a little voice whispered in her head, you’re not alone this time. You have someone who you can trust to watch your back. “Alright,” she conceded(to both the voice and Aloth). “I’ll go see a healer.”
Aloth looked mildly surprised at how easily she’d given in. “Excellent.”
“On one condition.”
“Tavi-”
“You let them patch you up, too. I’m the only one allowed to be scarred and attractive around here.”
He laughed as he stood and helped her up. “You have a deal. But they’re taking care of you first.”
“No arguments here,” Tavi winced, draping her arm around his shoulders once more. “Let’s go find a healer.”
“What about them?” Aloth nodded toward the dead bodies of their attackers.
“Leave ‘em for now. After we see a healer, we can either report ‘em or take care of them ourselves,” she said, staring almost numbly at her bloodied arm. “Probably report ‘em, ‘cause we’re gonna hafta explain this.”
“Very true.” He tightened his grip when she stumbled. “Hopefully we won’t have to look very far.”
“What’s a matter? Don’t think you could carry me?” Tavi needled as they made their slow way back into town.
“Oh, I’m sure I’d manage. I’m more worried about how much blood you’re losing. Are they always that determined?”
“One group was worse, actually,” Tavi panted. “They had two wizards and were led by an extremely sneaky rogue. Aside from the night our house got torched, that’s the only group I’ve ever run from. These guys would probably have been the second; if I didn’t have you backin’ me up.”
He smiled at that, which tightened around the edges when her head lolled against his shoulder. “Tavi. Tavi, stay awake.”
“’M awake, Aloth,” she muttered petulantly. “m’ shoulder ‘n neck hurt.”
They kept up a steady stream of small talk all through the search for a healer. Tavi was fairly certain Aloth was just trying to keep her conscious, given how much he usually preferred to travel in silence. She appreciated his sacrifice, even if she was convinced it was unnecessary.
>|<
Fortunately for them, the city was rough enough around the edges that a pair of bloody elves asking around for a healer didn’t raise too many eyebrows. Also fortunately, it didn’t take too much asking before someone pointed them toward a simple building and told them to ask for Resvyn.
Tavi had very nearly hit her limits, and already mentally conceded Aloth was one hundred percent right--she wouldn’t have made it to Caed Nua--when they knocked on the door.
The man who opened it was unexpected; his silver eyes and pale blue skin only the more subtle signs he’d been touched by the gods. “May I help you?”
“Lookin’ for Resvyn,” Tavi grit out between clenched teeth.
“You’ve found him,” the man smiled. “Please, come inside.” He opened the door and stood aside to let them pass. “I assume you’re here for my services as a healer?”
“You assume correctly,” Tavi nodded, suspicious nature assuaged by his calm, soothing voice. “Though that wasn’t a hard guess.”
“True,” Resvyn said, indicating a small room just past the door. “In there, please.”
Tavi looked around as they followed, letting Aloth guide her so she could indulge her curious nature. The rooms she could see were plainly furnished, all with candles or lanterns hanging in the center. “You Eothasian?”
“I used to be,” Resvyn replied simply. “Will that be a problem?”
“Nah.” She bit her lip as Aloth helped her sit on the raised bench along one wall. “Got a friend who’s Eothasian. I don’t judge. ‘Specially when the person in question is about to patch me up.”
He chuckled as he gather supplies from a nearby cabinet. “An enlightened view.”
“I try,” she joked, unfastening her belt with one hand and trying to wriggle out of the chain shirt.
“Here.” Aloth reached over and helped her slide it off.
“The shirt should probably come off too, ‘cause of my shoulder,” Tavi pointed out.
“Right.” He helped her gingerly work her way free of the garment, briefly wincing in sympathy.
“What?” she demanded, glancing at Resvyn, who had gathered what he needed and was laying it out on a nearby table.
“You have a rather colorful bruise,” Aloth informed her, fingertips ghosting over her shoulder. Even the light touch made her flinch-”Ow!”-and he snatched his hand back. “Sorry.”
“S’alright, city slicker,” Tavi assured him, holding out her good hand until he took it. “That side of me’s just real tender right now.”
“I need you to hold this against your arm,” Resvyn instructed, holding out a substantial bundle of cloth. “It will slow the bleeding while I take care of your knee.”
Tavi reluctantly let go of Aloth’s hand to do as she was told. “I don’t have any special attachment to these pants, by the way, so you can just cut ‘em away or whatever.”
Resvyn nodded and did just that, cutting away the fabric a good two inches above her knee. “Quite the adventurer, aren’t you?” he said conversationally, glancing at the scars she’d collected on her arms and stomach, cutting across her ribcage and peeking from beneath her breast band.
“Yep,” she replied, hissing in pain as he cleaned the wound. “Good career if you’re careful and good enough. Otherwise really fuckin’ short.”
He laughed quietly, the sound rippling like the tide against the shore. “Which is why I never tried.”
“It’s fun, though,” Tavi said. She winked cheekily at Aloth. “Even when you start by necessity.”
He rolled his eyes and smiled. “I will admit, it has grown on me.” A pointed look at one of Tavi’s scars in particular. “Even if it is occasionally terrifying.”
>|<
Resvyn had Tavi’s knee cleaned, stitched, and bandaged in short order. He then moved on to the wounds on her arm and hand. The one on her arm didn’t look nearly as bad once cleaned of blood. It was a simple matter to bind, after rubbing the skin with an ointment to prevent festering.
So when Resvyn looked at her hand and winced, Tavi knew it had to be bad. “What’s wrong?”
“This wound is deeper than the other-” he nodded at her arm- “which means a better chance of it festering and of there being long-term damage. I will do what I can, of course. But if you have access to a healer wherever you consider home, you may want to have them do more. There will likely be some lingering stiffness, regardless. But with continued care that can be kept to a minimum.”
“Gotcha,” Tavi nodded. “It gonna be bad enough to keep me from swingin’ a sword?”
“It shouldn’t be, no.”
“Then I’ll manage,” she grinned, then fell silent to let him concentrate, her good hand intertwined with one of Aloth’s. He didn’t complain or pull free when her grip tightened at the pain as Resvyn cleaned, stitched, and bandaged the ugly gash across her knuckles. Compared to all that, the bruise on her shoulder was child’s play. A salve rubbed in to dull the pain some and she was wriggling back into her shirt. “Thank you, Resvyn.” Tavi turned to Aloth. “Your turn.”
“I know,” he replied. “I had no intention of weaseling out of my promise.”
“Alright. Need me to hold your hand, too?” she teased as he passed her his cloak and grimoire.
“No, my injuries aren’t nearly as extensive as yours,” Aloth said, dry sarcasm underlying the words. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Still, after setting down cloak and grimoire, Tavi slipped her hand into his. Just because he thought it unnecessary didn’t mean she agreed.
The thin cut along his cheekbone and the nick on his arm merely required cleaning and were too small to be worth stitches. Resvyn was fairly positive they wouldn’t even scar. However, unlike Tavi’s injuries, the more serious gash across Aloth’s upper arm did not look better once the blood was cleared away.
“Is it s’pposed to look...” Tavi began, lightly brushing her fingers against the darkened skin. Aloth flinched and she pulled her hand back.
“No,” Resvyn said, brow furrowing in concern. “What kind of weapon is this from?”
“A dagger,” Aloth said slowly, frowning as if he’d just realized something unpleasant. “Is... Could there have been poison on the blade?”
“Just what I was wondering,” Resvyn nodded.
Tavi shot Aloth and incredulous look “You think you may’ve been fucking poisoned an’ you’re just mentioning this now?! You should’ve gone first! What if it’s fast acting? What if it’s too-”
“I only just had the thought,” Aloth cut her off. “And you bleeding to death from half a dozen-”
“It was three!”
“-wounds seemed slightly more urgent than worrying about myself.”
“It was only three, city slicker,” Tavi repeated.
“Because that’s so much better,” Aloth deadpanned, shifting obligingly when Resvyn wrapped one large, gentle hand around his arm. “Three wounds or six, you were still bleeding an awful lot.”
“And you were poisoned,” she snapped back, fighting against a wave of panic at what suddenly felt too real.
“It hasn’t spread far,” Resvyn interjected calmly. “And I know something that can negate its effects.” He closed his eyes briefly, the crescent-shaped growth on his forehead glowing as he murmured a prayer of some sort. The hand covering the injury pulsed with pale green light. “There.” He let go of Aloth’s arm and reached into a nearby cabinet, pulling out a small blue glass bottle. “Drink this.”
Aloth obeyed and pulled a sour face. “I hope it does something marvelous to make that worthwhile...”
Resvyn chuckled. “I know. It’s awful. But it also will counter any of the poison that may have made it into your bloodstream.”
“Definitely worthwhile, then,” Tavi said firmly, squeezing Aloth’s hand. “Any damage from the spell?”
“Wh- Oh, no.” Aloth shook his head as Resvyn stitched and bandaged the wound.
“Really?” Tavi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “’Cause the part of it that hit me hurt like a motherfucker. I wanna be sure you’re alright before we leave.”
“Just bruised ribs, probably not even as bad as your shoulder since the flame shield slowed it down,” he insisted.
“If you say so....” she sighed reluctantly. She trusted him to be able to judge. They’d been adventuring long enough, he had plenty of experience. If he said it wasn’t that bad, she was going to believe him that it wasn’t that bad. She could always bug him about them later, when he was half-asleep and less careful with his words if she was worried. So she turned to Resvyn. “What do we owe you?”
“Between the supplies and the time?” he shrugged. “Five hundred pands.”
“That doesn’t seem like nearly enough!” she protested.
“It’s all I require,” Resvyn insisted with a smile.
Tavi gave him a thousand. “There, five hundred for each. You saved both our lives, it’s only fair. Thank you.” She waited until Aloth had reclaimed him cloak and grimoire and then linked her good arm through his, tugging him toward the door. “C’mon, I’ll buy you a drink; get the taste of that potion outta your mouth.”
Aloth gave a wry laugh. “No arguments here.”
Arm in arm, the two of them meandered down the street in the general direction of the inn. After a day like today, they deserved a chance to take it easy.
-------------------------------------------------------
Like Keya, Resvyn is a hired adventurer in Tavi’s game(Moon Godlike Priest, aumaua build), and I wanted to use him in something even if the only reason I hired him is to avoid using Durance. :P I had to redo the entire back half of this bc Josh clarified that priests don’t really heal using magic, health is restored by resting. They just replenish endurance. I went WELL CRAP. So now the only thing Resvyn uses that’s spell-like is one of the “prayers against [x]” that grants resistance to Poisoned.
Have I mentioned before that I love the way these idiots bicker? I stg it’s still the way they say ‘I love you’. And they know it. They’re super fine to write because Tavi’s got an edge to her that most of my oc’s don’t.
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