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averykedavra · 4 years

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Leave No Trace (Chap. 13)

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

Virgil woke all of them up with a loud scream.

Patton jumped up, tangled himself in his blanket, and fell to the path with a thump. Janus executed a more graceful tumble and roll, landing on his feet with his fists balled, looking around wildly.

Virgil didn't get up. He was sitting on the ground, hands shaking, his breath coming in uneven bursts. Patton spotted a few tears in his eyes.

"Virgil!" Patton exclaimed. Virgil flinched at the noise, and Patton lowered his voice. "How are you?"

"What—" Virgil paused and took a few deep breaths, hands clenched around his blankets, eyes wide. "I was—tree. There was a tree, and—"

"Oh. Okay, yeah." Patton cursed himself for not figuring that Virgil would be upset whenever he woke up. "Yeah, you're safe now, kiddo. Just breathe, okay? In and out. I can count for you, alright? In for four…"

Virgil followed Patton's instructions, and slowly, his hands loosened their grip. He still looked wild-eyed and lost, but no longer so shattered and unstable that he might fly apart at the seams. He took another shuddering breath and wiped his eyes, unfolding his legs and looking around.

"That was—" Virgil shook his head violently. "No. Never again—no."

"I'm with you there, kiddo." Patton carefully scooted towards Virgil. Virgil didn't move away. In fact, he leaned into Patton's shoulder. Patton wrapped an arm around him and rubbed his side in a rhythm. "That wasn't fun for us, and it must have been terrifying for you."

"Yeah," Virgil agreed. "Um. Sorry for waking you guys up."

"It's morning anyway," Janus said, sitting back down a few feet away, watching Virgil with an uncharacteristic cautiousness. "We would have risen soon. It's not a problem."

"We're just glad you're okay," Patton said. He brushed Virgil's bangs away from his eyes and looked him over. "How do you feel?"

"Like I just got turned into a tree," Virgil said wryly. "Nah, I'm alright. A little anxious, but I feel okay."

"Awesome!" Patton smiled. "Yeah. We're—yeah, I'm so glad."

"How'd you get me out?" Virgil asked. "I was sure I'd—you know."

Patton's smile froze a bit. He glanced in a panic at Janus, who looked equally unsure.

"I saw that," Virgil said, eyes narrowing. "You're not telling me something."

"What?" Patton asked, drawing the word out, his voice pitching unnaturally high. "No, never!"

"You're a terrible liar." Virgil turned to Janus. "What did Patton do?"

Janus hissed between his teeth. "I don't think this is relevant."

"I'm calling bull." Virgil was glowering now. "What happened. Are you—are you guys okay?"

"We're fine!" Patton held up his hands. "I promise!"

"Good, now tell me what you did."

"Okay. So." Patton worried his lip between his bottom teeth. "It turned out the person who controlled those trees was the Faerie we met earlier? The one who gave us the food? Yeah. And—um, she wouldn't let us out, and we needed her to free you, so—"

"So you…" Virgil's face was blank with incomprehension for a second. Then he almost jerked upright. "Pat, no. Tell me you did not."

"Did not what?" Patton laughed sheepishly. "Finish your sentences, kiddo."

"Make a deal with a Fae."

Patton giggled again. "Ha! Um. Maybe. Sort of."

Virgil's eyes blazed. "What."

"Look, we needed to get you out of there!" Patton babbled. "And it wasn't even a big deal, I chose something I wouldn't miss, she kept up her end of the trade, and everything's fine now so we don't need to worry about it—"

"You made a deal with a—" Virgil stood up abruptly. "Are you stupid? That's maybe the most ridiculous thing you've ever done! You could have died, you could've gotten us killed, you could have—"

"It's fine now," Patton insisted.

"It's not!" Virgil rounded on Janus. "Snake, why in the name of all that is on this earth didn't you stop Pat from being an idiot?"

Janus made an awkward coughing noise and looked away. "I may have also. Made a deal with the Faerie. So I am really not one to judge."

Virgil was silent for a few seconds, but not because he was struck speechless—because he seemed to be fighting for words to convey his anger.

"What?" he finally yelled.

"We needed to get out," Janus said. "It was the only viable course of action in the moment—"

"I don't care!" Virgil made a strangled screaming noise. "You're both stupid! You don't just make deals with Fae. What did you even trade?"

"Nothing," Janus said, his hackles raising.

"Clearly not, if she let you go!" Virgil ran his hands through his hair. "Ugh, I can't believe you guys! You should have just—"

"Just what?" Patton asked. "Let you die?"

"No," Virgil said weakly. "I—maybe?"

Patton shook his head. "That is not an option and it never will be."

"Besides, even if we chose to leave Virgil alone—which I specifically recommended—we still needed to escape." Janus spread his hands. "Believe me, I wish there had been another option, but I didn't see one."

Virgil huffed and started pacing back and forth on the path, his feet digging into the dirt. "We can fix this. We can fix this! We can—we can just summon her again, and we can undo the trade, and then—"

"And then you're put back in a tree and we're slowly killed," Janus said. "A wonderful plan. Bravo."

"We could trade something else! So you're not in debt to a literal Faerie!" Virgil ran his hands through his hair again. "Maybe I could trade something! Or—"

"Yes," Janus agreed, "after yelling at us about making deals with the Fae, you go and make more deals with the Fae. Not hypocritical at all."

"Can you shut up for two seconds?" Virgil snapped. "I'm trying to get you out of this mess!"

"Kiddo." Patton stood up and placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder. "I get that you're frustrated. But—we made our choice, and there's no turning back, and we should all just try to settle into it."

"How are you telling me to settle into it?" Virgil said almost desperately. "If it was me who did the deal, you'd do the exact same thing!"

Patton winced. Because the problem was, Virgil wasn't wrong.

"You're welcome," Janus muttered. "Next time we'll just leave you in the tree, then."

"I—you—" Virgil kicked at nothing in particular. "You're insufferable!"

"I try to be."

"And you're succeeding!" Virgil waved his hands at everything in particular. "Can't we fix this?"

"There's nothing to be fixed." Patton bit his lip. "Kiddo…sometimes we have to make sacrifices. That happens. And you can't feel guilty about it."

"Guilt?" Virgil almost laughed. "That's what you think this is?"

Patton frowned. "What is it, then?"

"I'm worried!" Virgil yelled. "Duh! I'm worried you'll get killed or hurt because of this—because of me!"

Janus raised a finger. "That sounds like guilt, actually."

"Well—" Virgil huffed. "Maybe a little bit. But mostly, I'm scared." His voice cracked and he collapsed to the ground, sitting with his knees tucked to his chest. "I'm scared for you guys."

Patton looked at Janus, who looked just as lost.

"We'll be fine," Patton chose to say.

"You don't know that." Virgil laughed bitterly. "Have you heard the stories? Nobody who makes a deal with a Faerie ends up fine."

"Well, nobody makes it through the Iron Woods, and we've been doing a pretty okay job of that!" Patton pressed a hand to his chest. "We're awesome! And we can do anything!"

"I think what Pat is trying to say," Janus said, "is that there's no use worrying about it now. Whatever happens, happens. For now, all we can do is continue through the Woods as normal. Trying to undo what happened will probably only make things exponentially worse."

"Right," Patton said. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it!"

Virgil didn't look fully convinced. But he uncurled just a bit, so that was progress.

"What happened?" he finally asked. "I'd like to know."

Patton looked over at Janus. "You're the good storyteller here."

"There isn't a story to tell," Janus said. "Virgil was trapped in the tree and Patton refused to leave without trying to help him. He sat on the Faerie's chair, everything glowed for a bit, the Faerie showed up and taunted us, Patton tried to give away his name but apparently he can't since he's part Fae, we both ended up trading things away for safe passage, everything was on fire for a second, and we dragged you back through a tunnel of thistles and fell asleep."

Virgil blinked a few times. "Yeah, um—that sounds like a story. That should be told."

Janus shrugged. "There isn't much to add."

"Well, there's a heck of a lot to explain." Virgil tapped his hands against his knee. "Okay. First. Patton, you sat on what."

"Her throne." Patton sucked in a breath. "It…seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Right," Virgil said. "Of course. Carry on. You said…what did you guys trade?"

Janus looked at Patton and Patton looked at Janus.

"My dreams," Patton finally said. "Not, like, aspiration kind of dreams. When-you-fall-asleep kind of dreams."

"Huh." Virgil looked almost relieved. "That's…not too bad."

"It's actually kind of good," Patton admitted. "I don't like my dreams very much."

Virgil frowned. "No?"

And Patton immediately realized that he'd been about to admit his nightmares. Which he'd carefully hidden from Virgil. Well, fiddlesticks.

"There seem to be no ill effects so far," Janus cut in, coming to Patton's rescue intentionally or unintentionally. "As for what I traded, I have no idea."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "You don't know what you traded or you don't know if there will be any ill effects?"

"The latter."

"Then what did you trade?"

Janus shifted uncomfortably. "Nothing."

"Jan," Patton chided.

"It's nothing!" Janus said. "Let's move on!"

"Jan."

Janus sat on his hands and blew a bunch of air out of his mouth.

"I deserve to know," Virgil said, "since you basically sacrificed whatever-it-was for me."

"Fine." Janus rolled his eyes. "Ever heard of the tale of Forgotten Lovers?"

Virgil frowned. "Any relation to the tale of Lost Lovers?"

"What's that one about?"

"Girl gets lost, guy makes a deal with the Fae to get the girl again?"

Janus nodded. "I think so. They could be two different versions of the same story."

"Huh." Virgil chewed on his lip. "So. Why'd you bring that up?"

Janus' mouth worked for a few seconds before he finally spoke. "'When you need it most, your strength will fail you.'"

Virgil stared at him. "What are you—oh, come on."

"It was the first thing that came to mind!"

"That's, like, the worst deal you could possibly make!" Virgil was apparently back to wild anger. "I thought you were somewhat smart. Don't you know what happens to the guy in that story?"

"I know," Janus said, looking bored.

"He, like, turns evil and stabs his wife!" Virgil threw up his hands. "Seriously, snake? That's gonna bite you in the butt. Couldn't you have chosen anything else?"

"I know—" Janus paused. "Wait, he does what?"

"You know." When Janus didn't answer, Virgil continued. "He gets lured away into the Woods and his strength of will fails him and he turns evil, I think? Then he betrays everyone and kills his wife and drowns his newborn child." Virgil winced. "It's…not really a fun story. It's just another warning to keep away from the Fae and anyone associated with them."

Janus looked vaguely disturbed. "That is…not our version."

"What's your version, then?"

"He dies in ours." Janus shrugged. "He loses his strength during an important battle and gets stabbed. It's a lesson about not compromising your own strength and survival for anyone, not even someone you love."

Virgil winced. "Well, that's just depressing."

Patton frowned. "I've never heard either of those."

Virgil looked kind of guilty. "Yeah, you wouldn't have. Our moms—I—tried to avoid telling stories like that."

"'Cause they're gruesome?"

"Yeah." Virgil sucked in a breath and let it out. "And—you know, it's not very Fae-positive. The message kind of advocates burning all Fae and their ancestors at the stake."

"Got it," Patton said, feeling suddenly very awkward. "It's—it's neat that you both have those different stories. Which do you think is the real one?"

"They're folktales, Pat." Janus laughed. "I doubt either of them is anything close to real."

"Anyway." Virgil shrugged. "You're gonna die or turn evil, Jan. Well, I mean, you've already done the second one. But you know what I mean."

Janus watched Virgil carefully. "You don't seem very upset about the idea."

"Oh, trust me, I'm internally screaming." Virgil raised his hands and let them fall. "But you know what? You were stupid, we're all gonna die, let's move on. Anything else I should know?"

"I think that's it," Janus said.

Patton paused. "Um. I think—maybe?"

"What is it?" Janus asked.

"You know what it is!"

"I don't."

Patton gave him a significant look. "You know, what we learned."

Janus inclined his chin. "Fine, then, tell him."

Patton winced. "Can you?"

"You're the one who wants to tell him!"

"But I don't want to—actually—say it."

Virgil was looking more and more confused. He swiveled his head between Janus and Patton like he was watching a duel. Finally he said "You're not telling me something."

"Jan isn't telling you the something!"

Janus rolled his eyes and leaned back, hands on the path. "It doesn't matter to me. If you want him to know, tell him yourself."

Patton sighed and gathered his courage. "Um. So. You know the Faerie we met? She—turns out, she made this whole place."

"Really?" Virgil whistled. "That's impressive. Also explains how evil and malevolent it is."

"Yeah." Patton nodded. "Um. And—it's likely—I mean, it's possible—there's a good chance that we're—that she's my—you know—"

Virgil's eyes widened. "Oh."

"And Jan didn't tell you that," Patton said, deciding to turn on Janus because it got the attention off of him. "For some reason."

Janus raised one eyebrow. "You said it didn't matter."

"It doesn't matter!"

"Then why did you want to tell him?"

"Because!" Patton spluttered. "He deserves to know this stuff!"

"This stuff," Janus repeated, both eyebrows high in the air, "that doesn't matter."

"Yes!" Patton threw up his hands. "Look, I don't know, okay? I don't—I don't know."

Janus was silent. Patton curled up tighter on the ground, avoiding looking at Virgil and Janus, his eyes stinging.

"You're the one that said family is who you choose," Janus said.

Patton looked up.

"You're the one who tried to convince me that ancestry doesn't matter, and that family isn't family unless they treat you well and care about you." Janus huffed. "Sometimes you're a real hypocrite, Pat."

Patton found himself smiling, just a bit.

"And I have a feeling," Janus said, smiling back, "just a gut feeling that—bear with me here—someone who tries to kill you and your best friend isn't great family material."

"Yeah," Patton agreed. "Definitely not. Nobody hurts my best friends."

Janus gave him a little more smile, and Patton felt just a little bit better. His arms still ached and his chest still flared with foreign fire and his mind still buzzed with questions, but he felt a bit less like he might collapse and start sobbing at any given moment.

"We should get moving," Janus said, standing up. "Do you want to eat?"

"Sure," Virgil said, grabbing the nearest knapsack. He opened the flap and reached in.

Several dozen spiders exploded from the top, scurried their way down the side in a glittering black waterfall, and poured onto the path.

Patton screamed and jumped away. Virgil immediately dropped the knapsack. The spiders hurried in a little stream down the path and in-between two broken ladders. They disappeared into the forest.

"Well," Virgil finally said. "Looks like breakfast was canceled. And lunch. And dinner."

"It's all gone?" Janus asked.

"Yep." Virgil glanced at the other two knapsacks. "I assume those are, um, infested as well."

"What?" Patton squeaked, scrambling away from his knapsack. "Well, I'm not opening that! Ever!"

Janus sighed. "Give it here."

Patton kicked the knapsack towards him.

Janus grabbed the knapsack, walked over to the side of the path, and dumped it out. Spiders fell in several large clumps on the dirt. Patton held his breath until they had vanished into the shadows.

"Here," Janus said, picking up the few things left in the knapsack and handing it to Patton. "Spider-free."

"I'm not touching that," Patton said, "because spiders touched that."

Virgil frowned. "But spiders touched you."

Patton grinned and tried to keep his hands from shaking. "Don't remind me."

"There's not much in here anyway." Janus opened his own knapsack and let the spiders run off into the Woods. "I can carry your things if you'd like."

"Really?" Patton jumped up and hugged Janus around the waist. "Thank you!"

Janus jerked at the contact but didn't move away. "I…you're welcome. Now we should get moving—if we're not going to eat, it's best that we try and continue. If we make good time we could be at the chasm by evening."

Virgil's eyes widened. "The what now?"

"You'll see." Janus carefully escaped Patton's grasp and slung the knapsack over his back. "Come on."

Patton and Virgil rolled up their blankets and followed, leaving Patton's knapsack strewn on the ground behind them.

"I hope you feel alright," Janus said to Patton quietly as they began their walk down the path.

"Yeah, I—" Patton focused on the buzzing flare in his chest. "I feel…good. Kinda weird. But alright."

"Weird."

"Not a bad weird. Just like one of the fireflies got stuck inside of me."

Janus frowned a bit. "I don't feel like that."

"Huh."

"It could just be residual magic," Janus said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. "Maybe from when you sat on the throne, or just the deal in general. It'll probably fade with time."

"Right," Patton said.

It didn't feel residual. It felt like something was waking up or digging deeper or catching fire.

"Hurry up," Virgil said almost jovially from ahead of them. "Stop yapping and focus on the path—you're gonna need to watch your step. No more will o' the wisps, got it?"

Janus nodded, and so did Patton, and that was the end of their conversation.

The path ended that afternoon.

One second they were walking down the path as normal, trees bowing and swaying in the wind. The next, the trees around them dropped away, replaced by bare stone. The next, the path itself petered out into a few clumps of dirt on the rock.

Janus, Virgil, and Patton stood at the end of the path, looking over a chasm.

It was a few hundred feet wide. The edge was only ten feet away. Beyond that was a steep drop that bounced up on the other side, sheer and narrow like a knife had been dragged down the surface of the world. Bleached white stone crumbled at the edges. Patton was reminded of a layered cake with stiff sides and icing on top.

The icing was the thorns on the other side, dark and twisting and creating a wall or a cloud or a barrier. Beyond them the jagged gray peak of Dragon Mountain split the sky, tilting to the side and ending in a point sharper than a new pencil. It was unlike any mountain Patton had ever seen, and he wondered if it had been thrust up from the earth through magic, or was made of stone that the wind couldn't wear down.

"Wow," Virgil said. "Think you need any more security?"

"We're out." Janus didn't seem to have heard Virgil at all. He was almost smiling. "We made it out."

Patton turned around and stared at the Woods only a few steps away. The path coiled into the shadows and disappeared. The trees hung in the air. He'd almost expected…more. He'd expected some final challenge, for the Woods to reach out and grab them and tug them into the heart of the trees and bind them to the iron thrumming beneath their feet.

Well, best not to jinx it.

Patton took one careful step away. Then another. Then another, until he was almost teetering on the edge of the canyon. Dangerous, yes, but he wanted to get as far away from the Woods as possible.

"So," Virgil said, staring at the canyon and the thickets and the Mountain and the iron-gray sky. "What now?"

"There," Janus said, pointing down the canyon. There was a little strip of rock between the Woods and the empty space, a few dandelions growing in the cracks. A little ways down was a small rope bridge, nailed into the stone and swaying over the canyon.

"That does not look safe," Virgil said.

"Well, I'll make sure to choose the other bridge with safety nets and suspension cables." Janus rolled his eyes. "Oh wait."

"Come on, then!" Patton bounded forward and dashed along the edge of the canyon. He peeked into it as he ran. There was no sign of a bottom, just a vague pale mist and white marble-like cliffs.

When he reached the bridge, he stopped and waited for Virgil and Janus. They both took their time making it over. Patton probably shouldn't have ran, he realized—he was only feet from a very huge chasm. But he was just excited! He could feel the sun on his skin for the first time, and the air was fresh and boundless and no longer tainted with ozone and wet leaves. They were back in the open. They'd made it out.

"We did it," Patton whispered, turning to Janus and Virgil and giving them each a huge hug. Virgil hugged back. Janus didn't, but he also didn't pull away.

"We should get moving," Janus finally said with a pointed look. Patton stepped away sheepishly and turned back to the bridge.

"Now that I'm looking at it close up," Virgil said, frowning, "it's not as bad as I thought. It's way worse."

Patton had to agree. The bridge was narrow and made out of wooden slats with old rope holding them upright. The nails on the end were rusty, the slats were wet and broken in places, and it swayed in the wind over the cliff.

"I'm not sure about crossing that," Patton agreed. "When's the last time someone fixed it?"

"Never." Janus shrugged. "We don't want visitors. Why would we give them a bridge?"

"So where do you guys go?" Virgil asked. "Can we do that instead of braving the death-bridge of doom?"

Janus stared at Virgil for a long second. "We are dragons. We can fly."

"Oh." Virgil blinked a few times. "I—oh, yeah. My bad."

"You can't fly us over there, right?" Patton asked.

"No."

"Yeah. Figured." Patton shrugged and put on a smile. "We'll just have to—do our best, then."

"Great," Virgil said, staring at the bridge like it had personally killed his family.

"Go slow," Janus advised, stepping forward. "One person at a time, maybe? And watch your step."

He took another step forward, reaching for the side of the bridge.

A blast of wind ruffled Patton's hair.

Janus stumbled backwards.

Something was sitting in front of the bridge.

It was just a little bit bigger than a large dog, with furry paws tucked under its front and a long twitching tail. Two little fluffy wings flapped wildly at the air but didn't seem to do much of anything. Its face was a woman's, with a flat nose and little dots above the eyes and a stern mouth. Its eyes were a deep amber.

"A sphinx," Janus said. "Wonderful."

"Wonderful," the sphinx repeated in a husky voice. "A good word. Possibly used in an ironic sense."

"Is that bad?" Virgil inched backwards, hand on his crossbow. "Do we fight it?"

"Fight." The sphinx's back leg rose up and scratched at its ear. "Vague. Undefined. Could refer to either a physical or verbal altercation."

"It shouldn't be too bad." Janus waved a hand. "Sphinxes are mostly harmless. They're gatekeepers."

"Right! I remember the stories!" Patton smiled. "You know, they like to tell riddles!"

"Riddles," the sphinx agreed. "Synonyms include puzzles, tricks, and jokes. Joke—J is one of the rarest letters in the alphabet."

"Okay," Virgil said, looking a little less afraid and a little more confused. "So it's gonna tell us a riddle?"

"That's likely." Janus looked down at the sphinx, which was now reciting words that started with J. "If it ever gets around to it."

"Hey!" Patton waved his hand in front of the sphinx's face. "Um, it's nice to meet you! What's your name?"

The sphinx blinked once. "I am a sphinx. Uncertain why you ask for information you already possess."

"Oh, I meant—um—" Patton smiled. "I'm Patton! It's so cool to talk to you."

"I have never met a Patton." The sphinx tilted its head. "Are you part of the Lepidoptera family?"

"The what?"

"Butterflies," Virgil explained. He coughed and looked vaguely upset. "Um—Logan told me."

"Oh." Patton nodded. "I'm not a butterfly! I'm a human!"

"Human." The sphinx blinked again. "Humans are not permitted."

"I know," Janus said impatiently. "I know the rules, my family made them. I'm not human. Can I go across?"

"Dragon." The sphinx nodded. "Yes."

"Great. Can they come if they're with me?"

"Humans are not permitted."

Janus sighed and grabbed Patton's arm. "They're prisoners, then."

"Prisoners," the sphinx said. "Those who are kept in captivity against their will, usually as punishment for a crime."

"That's right," Janus agreed. "I've kidnapped both of these humans."

Patton nodded and tried to look kidnapped. Virgil just folded his arms.

"You could be a liar." The sphinx scratched its cheek. "Deception. I have been told to trust no one."

"But we told you that!" Janus groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Please just let us cross."

"Humans are not—"

"I know!" Janus looked about three seconds from punting the sphinx off the cliff. "I am well aware, so please give me something constructive to work with!"

"I am under orders."

"Who gave you these orders anyway?"

The sphinx hummed to itself. "Large spiky woman. A Mara. Not a species of Lepidoptera."

"Mara," Janus repeated, his face doing an impressive display of simultaneous annoyance and disgust. "Of course it's Mara."

"Who's Mara?" Patton asked.

Janus' teeth skated over his bottom lip, almost too fast to notice. "She was in charge."

"Not anymore?"

"I'm not sure." Janus glanced up at the Mountain. "The hierarchy of power can change a great deal in a week."

"Whatever," Virgil said, stepping up to the sphinx. "Let us pass, okay? It's important."

"Important. Vague. Please elaborate."

"We're gonna—"

"Idea," Janus said mildly, cutting Virgil off. "Don't tell your plan to a creature that works for the dragons you're planning to visit."

"Please can we pass?" Patton tried, giving the sphinx his best puppy dog eyes. "It'd be so nice of you."

"Nice," the sphinx said. "Vague. Undefined. Please elaborate."

"This is ridiculous," Janus announced to no one in particular. "You can't sweet-talk a sphinx. They're viciously literal. Either we kill this thing—"

"Kill me," the sphinx said, blinking innocently, "and bridge rejects you."

"—or we appeal to its love for knowledge." Janus paused. "Sphinx, if you let us all pass, we'll tell you a new word?"

"Know all words," the sphinx countered. "And price already must be paid. Dragon may pass, pay price, see other side. Humans must go."

"I hate this," Virgil announced.

"Hey!" Patton said. "I think it's kind of cute! Frustrating, but cute!"

"Cute or not, we need it to let us pass." Janus bent down until he was on his knees, eye to eye with the sphinx. Yellow against amber. The sphinx stared curiously back.

"You were saying something about Mara earlier," he said slowly. "Do you know her well?"

"Know not." The sphinx shook its head rapidly. "Smart. Sphinxes smart. Stay out of way."

And Patton could see the moment Janus' eyes gleamed with the light of a plan. The moment his face shifted, and his frustrated grimace turned into a smirk.

"Aww," he said, "don't tell me you're scared of Mara."

The sphinx shook its head again. "Incorrect adjective. Wary. Cautious."

"All comes down to the same thing." Janus laughed a bit. It wasn't his real laugh, the one Patton always tried to hear, light and cheerful with a bit of a snort. This was a smug little chuckle that Patton knew well. Janus was messing with the sphinx.

Patton didn't know how he felt about that.

"Quite honestly, I don't blame you." Janus extended a hand and examined his fingernails as if he was bored with the conversation already. "She's a real force of nature, isn't she? You've heard what happens to those who don't follow orders, I'm sure." He waved his hands in a strange complex motion. Patton caught a smash of something against a wall, a plume of smoke, and a slice across his chest.

The sphinx didn't wince, but it muttered to itself "Danger. A situation in which there might be harm to oneself or others."

"That's right! You're smarter than you look!" Janus clapped his hands together, eyes shining with something unfamiliar. "Now, what do you think will happen to you if you disobey direct orders? It's a simple logic problem—a riddle, if you will. I know you love those."

"Am following orders," the sphinx protested.

"I suppose," Janus said languidly, "but you're overlooking the fact that I've brought two human captives. One of them is part Fae and the other—" Janus cast a disparaging look at Virgil. "Well, he's rather useless, but he's strong enough. There's a lot we can do with them, and I think if Mara were here, she'd agree."

Virgil gave Patton a wide-eyed look. Patton was probably returning it.

"Orders!" the sphinx insisted, but its shoulders were sinking. It was crouching away from Janus.

Janus didn't look guilty. He just smiled wider than ever.

"Your orders have been overruled." Janus waved a hand. "Don't test me again. Mara doesn't like it when opportunities are wasted." He opened his mouth and fangs poked out over the edge of his lip. "Neither do I."

"Threat," the sphinx muttered. "Threat, threat, threat."

"Yes, it is." Janus clapped sarcastically. "Good job. Now let us pass, or we'll find out just how flammable your fur is."

Patton flinched involuntarily. Janus looked up. For a second, the piercing look fell off his face, and his mouth opened a bit.

"Pass," the sphinx said. "Humans pass."

"Oh, thank heavens, we're done." Virgil tried to push past the sphinx. "C'mon, let's go already."

"Pay toll." The sphinx's eyes flashed amber. "Now."

"Okay? What's the toll?" Patton raised his hands placatingly. "We'll pay it, as long as it's not too weird or dangerous."

"It's probably a riddle." Janus rolled his eyes. "If it's the what-walks-on-four-legs one, I'm going to be disappointed."

"Not me," Virgil said. "I know the answer to that one. I don't want a really hard riddle that'll get us tossed into the void."

"No riddle." The sphinx sounded vaguely disappointed.

"Then what?" Patton asked, nervousness fluttering in his chest.

"Secret," the sphinx said.

"Secret?" Janus repeated.

"Secret. An idea or fact that is not meant to be known by others." The sphinx poked at a tuft of fur on its paw. "Tell secret, cross bridge."

"We each tell a secret?" Virgil shrugged. "I don't like tomatoes, then."

"That's not a secret," Patton said. "I knew that."

"Well, the snake didn't."

"I know now." Janus rolled his eyes. "And I have a feeling your secret tomato-loathing isn't what the sphinx is talking about."

"Big secret. Good secret." The sphinx nodded. "Tell the hole and cross bridge."

"Tell the hole?" Patton clapped his hands together. "Oh! You mean the canyon!"

"We whisper a secret into a random pit," Virgil muttered. "Not weird at all."

"I'll go first." Janus walked to the edge of the chasm until his toes scraped the air. He bent over and whispered something. Patton could almost make it out. It was clear and thick like molten honey, and it dripped its way into the chasm and disappeared.

The sphinx did a little shimmy. "Good secret! Nice secret. Humans go now."

Virgil nodded and shifted closer to the canyon. "I don't like tomatoes," he told the air.

"It's not a secret if we can hear it," Janus said, stepping away. "Also, that's still a terrible secret."

"I don't have a lot of secrets, okay?" Virgil groaned and turned back to the canyon. "I mean, I guess there's—"

His voice lowered and another secret dropped into the chasm. It was rough and earthy like a long-buried treasure.

"Secret," the sphinx said happily.

"My turn, I guess?" Patton scooted over to the edge. His stomach swayed as he looked down. He couldn't see a bottom. Just mist and carved-away rock and the whisper of winds far below.

A secret. A good secret. Something that nobody knew—not Janus, not Virgil, not Logan or Roman or Remus.

Patton leaned over as much as he could, hands grasping his side, staring into the depths of the canyon.

"I—" The words trembled on his lips. He tried to lower his voice even more until it was barely audible. He knew the mist would hear him anyway.

Patton breathed out and let the words fall out into the wind.

"I'm not a good person."

He watched them spiral into the mist, lengthen, and disappear—gossamer strings and cotton tufts, dandelion seeds easily blown apart.

"Secret," the sphinx said, nodding happily. "Thank! Pass now."

"Neat!" Patton forced a smile and turned away from the edge. "One at a time?"

"All together," the sphinx corrected.

"That can't be safe," Virgil said.

"Well, the sphinx has spoken." Janus shrugged. "I suppose all we can do now is cross."

Patton walked back over. They stood in front of the sphinx, who was looking more excited than Patton had ever seen it. He felt kind of good about that. Maybe his secret was good for more than weighing him down.

"Careful," the sphinx said.

"We will be," Virgil agreed.

"Careful," the sphinx repeated. "Secrets echo."

Patton glanced at Virgil and Janus to see if they understood that. They looked just as confused as he felt.

But they didn't get a chance to demand an explanation. There was another gust of wind and the sphinx was gone, leaving a little imprint in the stone. The bridge swung in front of them, empty and rotting and looking very, very unstable.

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

#leave no trace

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taltos-seidmadr · 4 years

Audio

It occurred to me that I never shared the Loki playlist that I made for my Month for Loki back then when I was writing it. It’s the Month for Loki again, and it has stayed technically unchanged since it’s inception two years ago... so I might as well!

This is a part of a series of playlists that are based on the myths, so this is the myth-Loki and not based on my personal experiences or whatever (that playlist is elsewhere lol). Except for the last song. There is always a +1 at the end that is personal.

Overall I just wanted this to be a fun, contrarian and playfully rebellious playlist with a hint of edginess... because that’s exactly what I think Loki is like in the myths: a fun, playfully rebellious contrarian, with a little bit of an edgy addition when the plot wouldn’t be able to move on otherwise.

I feel like this reveals more about my age and taste in music than I expected but I’m not ashamed of it in the slightest

And yeah, you’ve got your fires and air and birds and threads and volcanic activity and everything. Sure. (I have forgotten the snakes oops? Suggest me a song with snake imagery in the comments.)

The tracklist as of today is thusly (with some lyric snippets as teasers)

GOT ENOUGH RED TAPE TO CHOKE A HORSE / I DON’T KNOW WHY I’M DOING IT / THIS IS MY SERMON, THIS IS MY SERMON, THIS IS MY SERMON 0. Sermon - Ed Schrader’s Music Beat

It’s time to shine / And make all your dreams come true / Come on... wish upon a dog star 1. Dogstar - Hybrid

Are you still denying? / Now I know there is something more / That this is the truth / It’s all in you 2. Path, Vol. 2 - Apocalyptica feat. Sandra Nasic

Come play my game, I’ll test ya / Psychosomatic, addict, insane 3. Breathe - The Prodigy

Now renegades are the people with their own philosophies / They change the course of history / Everyday people like you and me 4. Renegades of Funk - Rage Against the Machine

Get on board and have some fun / Take what you need to turn you on 5. Androgyny - Garbage

I want to hang all your cattle with your velvet rope / Motherfuckers step up and get into an orderly line 6. Better of Two Evils - Marilyn Manson

I can't control myself, because I don't know how / And they love me for it, honestly, I'll be here for a while 7. Blood - My Chemical Romance

I been that bitch, yes I love that drama / Fishy, feminine up-and-comer 8. Call Me Mother - RuPaul

I am the vulture in the space / I’m running in my supersonic shoes / I’m the vulture in the haze / There’s nothing foreseen, no rules 9. Supersonic Shoes - Strong Deformity

Are you deranged like me? Are you strange like me? / Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me? / Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me? / Pointing fingers cause you'll never take the blame like me? 10. Gasoline - Halsey

You could light me on fire / and you could kill me in my sleep / You could call me a liar / And you could bury me deep... 11. Light Me On Fire (High Maintenance Remix) - Dub FX

I need your discipline / I need your help / You know once I start I can not help myself 12. Discipline - Nine Inch Nails

Done my time and served my sentence / Dress me up and watch me die / If it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine 13. Emperor’s New Clothes - Panic! At the Disco

for shame’s sake by any other name / when the seeds take / it grows like weeds and spreads like flames 14. The Fuel - Sneaker Pimps

There is nothing you can do that I have not already done to myself 15. Never Wanted To Dance - Mindless Self Indulgence

I was close to the ant / Staying undercover, staying undercover / With a nose to the ground, I found my sound 16. BORN FREE - M. I. A.

And the longest hours I've had in my life / Were the ones I went through to know I was right / So I'm safe... but I'm a little outside / I'm gonna laugh when I'm buried alive 17. Sulfur - Slipknot

You say you wanna be my leader / I think you wanna be my God / You say you on the side of the righteous / I say I'm gonna hang with the wrong 18. Angel Duster - Run the Jewels

Made tissue paper sails / used thread instead of nails / Your autograph was carved across your back / We thought that you were done / but then you grabbed your gun / You pushed and fought and ran full speed ahead 19. How To Look Naked - Black Light Burns

Clothes on the floor, but the bed's on the ceiling / Slurring my lines, but I'm nailing the meaning 20. Silvertongue - Young the Giant

I belong here with the fallen / Here is nowhere, here is everything / I belong here with the broken / We are lost and we have nothing to lose 21. Pray for the Pain You Serve - Gary Numan

I'm the player, I'm the naive / I'm the one who's not addicted / I'm the logic to the fuck up / I'm the broken one who fixed it 22. Seen It All - KoRn

Cause I'll darn you back together / when you think that you're bereft / And you'll wail, you'll scream, but I'll never stop / cause it's all that I have left +1. The Rockrose and the Thistle - The Amazing Devil

#loki #loki*#lokideity #lokean #a month for loki #devotional #music #sithi's posts #text

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runningwolf62 · 5 years

Text

Ah it’s Bridge to Turnabout Day! May our scheduled crying over the Fey family begin!

@wardencommanderrodimiss @pachelbelsheadcanon

On Ao3

Life at the monastery is weird and that’s by Larry’s life standards. He can tell something is bothering Elise, and there’s the nun who keeps avoiding him (which like he’d understand, girls occasionally had that response, but he had only said hi to her so who knew what that was about), not to mention it was cold!

But the snow was fun to play in (listen having a snowman outside of his little shack made it homely) and useful in landscape portraits he’d been doing. Well doing in-between being fussed over by Bikini like he was her son and reassuring Elise that he was fine being here and pretending everything was normal.

So he’s hanging out and trying to paint Dusky Bridge because that is just the challenge in painting perspective he needs. Elise has been distracted all today, in fact earlier when he’d made a joke about their family resemblance she’d seemed to just ignore him entirely. So here he is. Painting bridges.

He only snaps out of his painting trance by the sound of voices. “Huh? Oh, uh sorry.” He doesn’t know who he’s apologizing too and then he realizes no one was speaking to him. They’re blocking his view though.

“Can you move? You’re standing right in my view!” He calls and the figures turn around Larry’s soul leaves his body in that moment. Of course this was weird enough to get Nick’s attention. He just hoped no one died. But more than that he’s three seconds from grabbing his easel and fleeing.

Maya and Nick look flabbergasted and yeah okay Larry is going to need to say something.

“Gotta run! See ya!” He scrambles to grab his things without ruining his portraits.

“Wait a minute!” Nick yells as the two rush over and he’s busted for sure. He grins sheepishly at them and then puts on a confident smile.

“Hi! I’m Laurice Deauxnim!” He offers a thumbs up too but they are not willing to play along.

“Liar!” Nick always cuts to the heart of the matter and says Larry’s greatest fear, “ You're Larry! Your clothes may change, but you're still the Butz.”

“Shut up!” Larry snaps and Nick jerks back as though startled. Maya looks equally surprised and Larry didn’t mean for that to come out so harshly.

“I’m Laurice Deauxnim. I’m just here to a sketch of the Dusky bridge.” He says firmly but he can’t look at Maya, not after last time, not after how they’d started to be friends and he’d fucked it up. He can barely look at Nick and the exasperated disgust on his face at seeing him again.

Maya laughs though, “so it really is our Larry!” She sounds delighted to see him and Larry gives her a small smile. “Though I’m not sure why he’s pretending to be someone else.”

Nick turns to him with brows raised and Larry looks down and looks away. Hot shot lawyer, doesn’t even have to ask.

“Well I- I just-“ he caves the way he always does when Nick questions him, “I just wanted to start over with a clean slate!”

“A clean slate?” Maya looks confused and concerned and Larry looks away from them to the painting of Dusky bridge.

“After that last case I realized even I didn’t like me.” He admits and thinks he sees Nick flinch slightly. The story pours out of him after that, the loss of his job, the need to remake himself, discovering The Magic Bottle and reaching out to Elise.

He can’t admit that he feels like he’ll forever be overshadowed by Nick and Edgey and that finally having a career where he’s made something of himself makes him feel like less of a failure when measured next to them is a comfort. That he feels like he’s becoming a better person. That this all spun from Warrior Cats.

“You’d make a great book salesman!” Maya says with a grin, “now I wanna get that book too!”

Larry laughs at that and relaxes some. Nick looks more thoughtful and says, “I’m proud of you. Sorry about uh, earlier.”

Larry tilts his head to think of how to respond before finally saying, “I- I get it. Like I said, I didn’t exactly like me either.”

“So you and Elise are getting along?” Maya chimes in, and Larry nods eagerly.

“She’s the most amazing person in the world! I’d follow her anywhere!”

“She is a very elegant woman,” Maya speaks only the truth and he and Nick are blessed to have her in their lives.

“Uh you want to see a picture I took of her?” he pulls it out to show Maya while Nick gives him a weird book, “don’t tell her though it’s secret.”

“Larry-”

“I’m making a drawing!” he defends himself as Maya takes the copy from him, “It’s to be a thank you present for everything she’s taught me!” To Maya he says, “you can keep it if you want I have a couple copies for references. Can’t be too careful.”

Maya nods, “it’s a great picture too! I can’t wait to see you draw it.”

“Thanks!”

Nick shoves his hands in his pockets, “still it’s hard to picture you as a children’s book artist.”

“Hey now! I graduated college with an art degree didn’t I?” Larry reaches over and pokes his arm, “big talk from the guy who thought he could be a lawyer by studying it on the side!”

Maya covers her mouth to laugh, Nick gives him a dirty look.

“And I remember you moaning through the entire final which was only half of what a book would require so-”

“I was twenty-two and stupid then!”

“Then?”

“Nick!” Maya scolds him and Nick is quick to apologize. Larry lets that one roll off him, it’s nice to be able to talk to them and tease Nick.

“Honestly I was going to wait to tell you until the book was finish and then just drop a copy on your desk. Signed and published and just tell you that way.”

Nick looks surprised, “you weren’t going to- how long have you been apprenticed under her?”

“Uh it’s February?” Larry pauses and counts back, “uh, January, December, half of November, so close to three months.” Has it really been that long? Wow. Times really flown past.

“You just weren’t going to tell me?”

“I was going to!” Once he had something to show for it. To prove this wasn’t just the latest in his string of jobs and fuckups.

“Everyone!” They all turn to see Pearl standing there bouncing on her feet.

“Hey there, squirt!” Larry teases her and she grins up at him.

“Hi Mr. Larry!” She doesn’t question why he’s here, instead she pulls herself up to her full height. “Dinner preparations are ready!”

“That’s great! I can’t wait to dig in Pearly!” Maya says excitedly and Nick murmurs in agreement.

“I’m going to the Inner Temple to fetch Sister Iris!” Pearl starts before Larry calls to her.

“Hey, that bridge is a bit dangerous, I can go.”

“No that’s okay!” Pearl smiles at them, “I want to see where Mystic Maya is going to be training! I’ll be careful!”

Larry looks to Nick and Maya as the adults in charge of Pearl and they both nod so Larry nods as well.

“We’ll try not to eat everything before you get there!” he teases as he packs up his brushes. He sees Maya and Nick glance at his canvas but neither makes a move to look at it.

“Alright let’s go,” he dusts his hands but Nick stops him.

“Wait.” His eyes are trained on Pearl as she crosses the bridge. “I’ll let her go on her own but…”

Larry nods and continues to move as though cleaning up.

“What are you doing?” Maya asks him, following him around as he pretends to pick things up.

“Kids know if you don’t think they can do something. This way Pearl doesn’t think we’re all standing around worrying over her and upset her ‘cause we don’t think she’s mature enough to cross the bridge by herself. Now it just looks like you and Nick are waiting for me.”

“When did you get good with kids?”

“I’m apprenticed to a children’s book author Nick!”

Maya sees him bend down and begin to make the snowball but only grins and winks at him. Once Pearl is safely across Nick turns away.

The snowball splatters over his neck and down his shirt and Larry takes off sprinting for the temple before Nick can register what just happened.

“What is this thistle-headed fool doing here?” Viper stopped before them and Orangestripe was ready to run but Wolf simply yawned.

“He’s visiting and telling us about Clan life.” He and a few others from Demon and Viper’s group were gathered around to listen to Orangestripe and ask him questions, “he’s not taken any prey nor is he bothering anyone. We’re just learning about our neighbors.”

Viper still looked like she’d like to claw his ears but slowly she relaxed. “Very well. Keep it that way.”

Orangestripe let out a sigh of relief and Wolf laughed while the others scattered to do various chores and likely avoid Viper’s wrath.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet. “

Orangestripe followed him unquestioningly as he led his way over to a den. An older she-cat lay there, basking in the sun and blinked at them when they arrived.

“Wolf,” she greeted him and he nodded.

“This is Orangestripe of SpiritClan.” He turned to him, “Orangestripe this is Maria. Demon’s working on adding some more Clan like roles to the group so I think she’s what your Clan calls elders?”

“Older cats who offer advice and stories and are cared for by the younger cats?” He asked.

Maria let out a soft purr, “I’m not that old yet am I?” Orangestripe shook his head quickly though he could see a touch of gray to her muzzle.

“I wanted to speak to you though,” she signaled for him to sit down, “if you have the time.”

“I’m not needed back at camp for a while,” he assured her and it wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong. He was helping Demon’s group yes but he was doing nothing that would harm SpiritClan. Plus he suspected Spiritstar knew where he’d been sneaking off to anyway.

“I’d like to hear your Clans stories and tell you a few of my own if that would be alright.”

“I’d love to!” Orangestripe settled on a soft patch of grass nearby, with Wolf settled near them to groom his paws while they began to pass the day away with stories.

Maya sets off for training after dinner and they all slowly scatter. Elise pauses next to Larry while Pearl bounces away to wash the dishes.

“How’s your landscape coming Larry?”

“It’s coming,” he lets out a laugh and then rubs his hands together, “I’m trying out a new style like you suggested so it’s going a bit slower but I like the effect I’m getting!”

“That’s good!” Her smile seems a bit sad and Larry’s not sure why? He lets it slide though, saying his good nights and goodbyes until it’s just him and Nick.

“So about that girl Iris.” He sees the look in Nick’s eyes and rolls his own, “no I was going to ask does she seem flighty to you too?”

Nick hesitates and Larry continues, “since Elise and I got here she’s gone out of her way to avoid me- Not a word Nick – and Bikini says she’s not normally like that and then I saw she was giving you the same runaround.”

Nick hesitates and slowly shakes his head, “I don’t know.”

Larry doesn’t need to be the turnabout terror that Nick is to sense that lie but now he’s got a new puzzle piece. Whoever Iris is she’s somehow tied to Nick.

He’s headed out the front door when the realization slaps him across the face.

She looks like Nick’s girlfriend from college.

The one that tried to kill him.

"You remind me of someone I heard stories about," Orangestripe remarked one day.

"Who is that" the elderly she-cat asked, Maria had just finished one of her stories and now it was his turn.

"Spiritstar and Cherrywing's mother," he paused and recalled the tales, "she was good leader, until the end. She made a tragic mistake and the Clan paid for it so she stepped down and her daughter became leader. Everyone remembers her as a wonderful cat who loved her clan and kin though. But one that suffered for a terrible mistake."

The she-cat blinks at him. "I never had any kits but from what I've heard I'd have been proud to call those two mine."

Orangestripe nodded and began to tell it more in-depth, what he remembered and attempted to use the skills she’d taught him. As Orangestripe spoke he noticed Demon had come over to listen, his ears pricked.

"I didn’t remember that story," he said when Orangestripe had finished.

The orange tom huffed and glanced around for Venom. "I’m not surprised, I doubt Spark would be telling the story of how SpiritClan rebuilt itself."

Demon let out a bitter laugh, "you'd be surprised Orangestripe."

A tremendous crack of lightning splits the sky and pulls him out of sleep as his room fills with light. Damn it and he’d just gotten to sleep too, after Iris didn’t show up. Larry covers his eyes and looks over to take stock of what happened.

Lit by the flames leaping off Dusky Bridge he sees someone – hood, thin, Iris? – fly over the bridge. There’s a lot to process but his first thought is I have to draw that.

He reaches for his sketchbook and colored pencils, and this is a terrible way to draw and his fingers are stiff from sleep but he sketches quickly in terror that if he moves to a different position in those few seconds he will lose his perspective.

Once he’s finished it kind of occurs to his now more awake brain he should go check that out. He finally looks away from the fire to scramble out of bed and into his warm clothes, hurrying to get over there.

By the time he arrives the fire is truly blazing and he skids to a halt a good ten feet from the bridge and can still feel the heat rolling off of it.

“Jesus,” he shakes his head at the bridge and looks around, “Iris?” He knows he saw her. At least he thought he had. He’d for sure seen someone.

He begins poking around the snow, it had finally stopped coming down but if anyone else had been Larry’s pretty sure their tracks had been covered.

Until he spots something glittering and reflecting the flames. He snags it, the stone is cold against his fingers as he rolls it in his hands. Was this one of the stones off Iris’s hood? It was dark though, too dark to be that he thought. He shoves it in his pocket for now, he can show it to Nick later and ask him what he thinks.

And speaking of the devil, barely a minute later Nick comes charging up the path winded and wild eyed, the fire reflects off him almost like he’s the firebird he’s named for.

Larry hurries to him, “Nick?”

“AGH!” Nick about leaps into the air away from him, eyes wide with fear.

“What, is it me?” Come on he wasn’t that bad? What was wrong?

“There’s been a murder! Here! At Hazakura temple!” Despite the heat a chill runs through Larry’s veins. Who. Nick looks wild, could it be Maya?

“Look just call the police I have to- the killer might be over there, I have to get to Maya.”

Larry snaps his gaze over to the other side of the bridge and grabs Nick’s arm, “you can’t, Nick the bridge is on fire, it’s not safe, Nick you can’t!” He can’t do this, he hates choosing between Nick and Maya but he has to and he’s choosing Nick, he can’t do that year from hell again.

Nick pushes him aside though and orders again, “Call the police!” and then sprints for the bridge.

“Nick!” Larry stops at the burning embers that don’t even slow Nick, he can hear the ropes snapping as he watches Nick vanish into the smoke and flames.

He backs away coughing as a gust of wind blows the smoke and embers into his face, “Nick!”

He moves to the side to try and see better and his heart plunges out from his chest the way the boards give out under Nick.

The rest is a blur. He knows he hits his knees and reaches for him as though he can try and stop Nick from falling, try and stop another tragedy.

He knows he calls the police.

He remembers calling Edgeworth crying and coughing from the smoke that Nick might be dying and that it’s bad and he’s panicking – he doesn’t even know who’s dead or if Nick’s dead – until somewhere in the confusion he hears it.

Elise Deauxnim is dead.

He goes numb after that.

#Ace Attorney #CRYING IN THE CLUB TONIGHT #Larry Writes Warrior Cats

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wannabeagrunklefan · 7 years

Text

Fic: Fire and Freedom

Pairing: Stancest Rating: PG-13 for language and some implied sexy times, I guess ^^; Author’s Notes: Circus AU! This was written for the Stancest Discord server’s scavenger hunt. I just wanted to say a quick shout out to my very talented teammates for making this event so fun and for being so kind! You’re all brilliant and I was so inspired by your lovely writing and art! :D And a hearty thank you to my beta team @yehvaru and @reinstotheworld, who made this legible! I know you’re both really busy, so it really touched me that you made time to look over my story and give me some feedback and encouragement. You two are the absolute best and I adore you both to the moon and back! :D <3

The link to this fic on AO3 can be found here.

“Little shit!”

Carla sighed heavily, eyes rolled up to the ceiling as if seeking divine patience. “Stanley, don’t start-”

“‘He’s cheating! He’s behind a curtain! ANYONE could have got him out! You think that’s a good trick?’” Her companion continued on with his tirade in a squeaky, off-key parody of what she assumed was meant to be a child, if the child in question sounded like a leaky bike tire.

A leaky bike tire with a serious chain smoking problem.

“Seriously, kid?” He continued arguing with his imaginary, tiny antagonist, weaving haphazardly through the throng of performers backstage preparing for their acts to start. Carla heaved a frustrated breath as she attempted to keep up, neatly dodging some acrobats and coming dangerously close to Ms. Petunia’s prized, trained poodle, Rex, earning her a vicious glare from the older woman. “Anyone could have gotten me outta handcuffs and a locked tank of water in the middle of a giant, empty stage?? The entire point is that I escape on my own!”

“To be fair, the tank’s not really sealed as tightly as it looks, though,” Carla couldn’t help but point out, trying to take the wind out of his sails before he made it clear across the Atlantic Ocean fueled on spite alone.

It seemed to work slightly, as far as distractions went, as Stanley’s steps did slow somewhat. “I know that, and you know that, but that’s not the point,” he growled, punctuating the end of his sentence with a few vicious stabs in the air with a pointer finger. “My job is to create an illusion that inspires ‘wonder’ and ‘the inner child’, and that real child is being a real asshole!”

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Carla replied dryly. “What child wouldn’t experience a sense of wonder watching a happy-go-lucky guy like you answer their innocent question with a ‘Bite me, kid!’?”

Her companion narrowed his eyes in a mockingly fierce glare and put indignant hands on his hips as his body relaxed into a more playful posture. Bull-headed as Stan was, at least he could concede the point when he was being ridiculous. In his own, silent way, of course. “Yanno what? You can bite me too, Carla.”

“Been there, done that, sugar,” she replied, patting him lightly on the shoulder as he grinned. She wrinkled her nose for effect as she added, “never again.”

He burst into laughter, resting a hand over his heart. “You break my heart, McCorkle! Just like you did that night when you left me fer some clown!”

She immediately shoved him in frustration, forcing more laughter out of him. “NO! It wasn’t funny the first fifty-thousand times you made that joke, and it isn’t funny now! Ugh, I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. Where’s your brother? Why isn’t he suffering you like the rest of us? FORD!” She yelled at a nearby camper, their original destination (Stanley’s destination was always Stanford), and relished the violent tremor that ran through it as she had no doubt startled Ford out of a deep focus.

One chair scrape and several heavy, booted steps later, and the door to the RV swung open, revealing Ford’s perplexed face and emitting a faint scent of chemicals. He quirked a brow in Carla’s direction. “You bellowed?”

She frowned at his word choice and crossed her arms defiantly, pointedly ignoring the sniggering coming from the manchild behind her. “You’re a fire tamer, right?”

His brows scrunched together in a mild frown as he thought the question over. “I suppose you could call it that. But I prefer to say I work with fire-”

“Deal with this,” she interrupted, grabbing a handful of Stan’s sleeve and dragging him over to his brother. “There was a rowdy kid and now he’s all riled up, and if you don’t take him now I’ll throw a knife at him and I can’t guarantee I’ll miss.”

Stanford rolled his eyes as he stepped back to allow Stanley entry. “I’ll deal with it, but I can’t promise it’ll stay dealt with,” he countered, leaping back as Stanley laid a comically exaggerated and loud kiss to his cheek. “AGH! Stanley, what the hell?” he yelped, rubbing a hand up and down his cheek, face flushed and lips twisted into a grimace when his hand passed over saliva.

“Thanks, bro,” Stanley said as he made his way cheerfully into their shared space. “I feel so loved!”

Ford turned back to Carla, his expression deadpan. “Run, while you still can.”

She laughed and punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Oh, and Carla?” Stanley popped up over Ford’s shoulder, and that’s when Carla realized she had to leave now.

“Gotta go, Stan! Talk to you later, ok?” she called over her shoulder as she swiftly turned around and began making her escape.

“Oh! Ok. Could you just thank Thistle for me when you see ‘im?”

…Damn him and damn her curiosity straight to hell. She turned around with what she hoped was an effective warning look. “Thank him for what?”

Stan quickly held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa! Hey! No need fer that! I just genuinely wanted to thank him for helpin’ me put away all my props ‘n stuff yesterday.”

Carla could feel her shoulders returning to their more relaxed positions. That was actually… “…Thanks, Stan. I’ll tell him you said that.”

He smiled. “No problem, Carla. I just wanted to make sure he knew I appreciated his kind jester.”

There’s no way of knowing for sure, but it was generally accepted by everyone at the circus that day that the ensuing, aggrieved shriek could be heard the next city over.

“We’re going to need hearing aids soon if you keep winding her up like that.”

Stanley grinned mischievously from his place against the wall as he watched his twin fiddle around with his latest fuel-concoction. “That was a good one, wasn’t it? Even better than I hoped for!”

Ford shook his head in exasperation as he continued with his work. “I honestly don’t know what you hope to achieve by bothering that poor girl. Didn’t she suffer enough as your girlfriend?”

Stan barked out a laugh and pushed off the wall, coming over to Ford to wrap a hand around one shoulder as he leaned over the other to observe his twin’s progress. “Yanno, I’d clock you a good one fer that remark if it wasn’t dripping with jealousy.” He glanced to the side to look for Ford’s reaction and – there! A quick spasm of fingers around the beaker he was holding, a slight quiver of a pipette in a suddenly unsteady hand and a jaunty bounce of an Adam’s apple were all Stan’s to cherish; small pieces of evidence of his twin’s affection that he could collect like an emotional magpie, decorating his life with pieces of love and hoarding the warmth they brought him.

“Who’s jealous?” Ford asked, in the most chalant-nonchalant sort of way. Stanley hoped he wasn’t sincerely trying to sound unaffected, because that would mean his brother was the worst liar in history and bullshit was basically their trade, so…not a good combination. “I just meant that perhaps you should…ease up a little. No person should be screaming that much, that regularly.”

“No?” Stan asked casually, plucking the beaker and pipette out of Ford’s hands and setting them down safely out of harm’s way, as Ford avidly stared at the side of his head. “You couldn’t see any advantages to screaming loudly on a regular basis?” He continued his line of questioning, pulling out the chair Ford is sitting in and sitting down in the newly created space of his twin’s lap. He looped his arms around Ford’s neck, grinning in triumph as he felt strong hands grip his hips, some stray fingers slipping under his shirt and coming to a stop to lightly caress the skin underneath. He licked his lips as he gazed into brilliant, warm brown eyes, so much more vibrant and arresting than his own. “No fringe benefits, at all?”

He watched Ford’s eyes shift from side to side - searching for something, it looked like. The inner workings of Ford’s mind often eluded him. Whatever it was, he must’ve found it, because the firm, stiff line of his mouth softened and melted into a charmingly lazy grin and the feather-light caresses began to move downward with intent. “Well, Carla was certainly right about one thing. You are riled up, aren’t you?”

Stan grinned devilishly, bringing one hand up to run through Ford’s curly locks, pausing every so often to deliver light, teasing scratches to his scalp. “You bet. She seemed to think that you should deal with me.” Here he grabbed a mass of hair, pulling Ford’s head back. Ford went willingly, offering his throat in its entirety to his brother. “What do you think about that?”

“I’m not sure,” Ford admitted, looking up at the ceiling. “I’ve never really done well trying to force fire to bend to my will, as I’m sure you remember.” Stan responded with a non-committal hum and a light caress to a pale, pink patch of skin on his brother’s throat. “As I mentioned earlier, my best work seems to come when I treat the fire with respect. Like a partner.” He flicked his eyes down in an attempt to meet Stan’s despite the awkward angle.

Stan considered him briefly, laid out and submissive beneath him, before throwing aside the façade and finally giving into temptation, bending forward to kiss, lick and suck at every inch of skin he could reach. His twin came alive immediately, hands coming up and grasping at Stan’s shoulders for purchase as he gasped and moaned his pleasure, completely losing himself in the moment.

It was times like these, here in this narrow world where he and Ford were the only things in existence, that Stanley felt like everything slotted into place. Where he could slowly, carefully free his brother from all the invisible trappings of the world outside and celebrate his freedom, celebrate Ford. It was always his most thrilling escape, and when he succeeded it brought him more pride and joy than hundreds of locked tank performances could ever touch.

Every soft gasp was like the rattle of a loosening chain, every moan the click of a lock springing open under his hands. Every desperate plea was like the awed gasps of an enthralled crowd and every call of his name the thunderous applause of a phantom audience. With Ford he reached new heights and it was with Ford that he achieved some of his greatest accomplishments.

When they were together, he received some of Ford’s magic too. Every light caress trailed fire along his nerve-endings, and every kiss seared into him like a brand. Ford’s intense gaze lit a fire in his gut and his fierce embrace was scalding enough to melt away the outside fears and anxieties that plagued him while leaving his heart and soul feeling blissfully warm.

Together they were two fires that burned brightly, twining and melting into one another to become an intimidating force of nature. Together, they broke locks and rent chains asunder, lifting each other to previously unattainable heights where they could soar in their freedom.

Together, the future was bright.

Together, they made the impossible possible.

#stancest #stancest scavenger hunt #my writing #ugh this is kind of a mess lol #but i enjoyed writing this anyway #aus are so fun to mess around with ^^

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pratktcven · 7 years

Text

bloom

bloom part two. heith. pg-13. in which keith is a florist and hunk is a tattoo artist. thanks to @faorism and @blackcatbone for the beta! also available on ao3

part one

They work in relative silence, a quiet upset only by the snip of Keith's shears, the rasp of Hunk's soft lead pencils, and the occasional question.

"Hey, Keith," Hunk says several minutes after settling onto Shiro's stool. Keith looks up from his work—which he was struggling to focus on instead of Hunk—and tilts his head wordlessly. "Sorry to interrupt but, uhh, can I pick these up? I want to sketch them from different angles."

"Yeah," Keith replies. "Go ahead."

Hunk grins at him and gently picks up a stem. He holds it carefully as he examines it, sketching quickly and from several different angles.

"Do these come in different colors?" Hunk asks when the blue thistle is pinched between his fingers. "I mean, not this one, specifically, but all of them. My client was still trying to decide between grayscale and color, and I don't wanna make something yellow when it should only be red, you know?"

"Well, the thistle you're holding is always blue or purple, in any shade between the two," Keith answers. "The wax flowers—the tiny ones with the needle-like leaves—are commonly white or pink or magenta, though I have seen variants in pale green or red. As for the cabbage roses, those can be pretty much be any warm pastel color you want, like pink or peach, yellow or ivory."

Hunk writes down Keith's notes in the margin of his sketchbook, tongue between his teeth in concentration. He circles a few and draws arrows to some of his drawings; Keith recognizes the motions, but he is too far away to see any real detail.

"What about the filler?"

"There isn't any variation on those."

Hunk hums a thank you as he jots down a few more words at the bottom of the page, then flips the sketchbook over to a clean sheet.

"Okay, last one," Hunks says. "Do these flowers have any special or secret meaning?"

Keith snorts at the question. Hunk grins wryly at the derisive sound, as though to say, "That bad, huh?" It is very different from the sour frowns Keith usually receives from customers when he is impolite, but it is enough of a reminder for him to feel a tiny pinprick of guilt.

"Sorry," Keith murmurs, dropping his gaze to the echeveria, hydrangea, and dusty miller laid out before him. Sometimes he forgets that not everyone has been a florist since they were seventeen. "It's just—well, nobody really cares about flower language anymore."

"Really?" Hunk blinks. "What about, like, roses and stuff?"

"Those are an exception," Keith admits. "Red roses for love. Yellow roses for friendship. But those are mainstream enough that people buy them by the stem or by the dozen if they're trying to say something. Otherwise it's all about the recipient's personal taste."

"Do you get a lot of clients who ask about it?"

Keith shrugs. "Some. Shiro's the one who deals with most of the orders, and he always tells them that what's important is who it's for, not what it's for."

"I get that," Hunk says with a nod. "A good tattoo is the same way. It's how you feel about your tattoo, not how other people do."

Keith's eyes dart from Hunk's face to the intricate lines covering Hunk's skin. They're gorgeous, straight lines on an organic, curving canvas, and they manage to be both delicate and masculine. Surely the tattoos mean something—Hunk does not seem like the kind of person to do something without purpose, even if that purpose were for aesthetic—but by the time Keith gathers enough courage to ask, Hunk has returned to his sketchbook.

Briefly, Keith regrets his inability to make conversation. He wants to talk to Hunk and learn more about him. He even tries to think of something to say. Everything he comes up with sounds stilted though, and if it's awkward inside his own mind, Keith can't imagine how his thoughts would flounder off his tongue. So instead of speaking, he heaves a silent sigh, and returns to his arrangement.

Keith does not know how long Hunk sketches. There is no clock in the shop, and Keith's cellphone is plugged into the outlet by the register. He cannot gauge a time by his arrangement either, since his normal efficiency is hindered by the distraction of the man across from him. If Keith were to hazard a guess, however, he would say that Hunk spends an hour perched on Shiro's stool before he hops off and stretches.

The hem of Hunk's pale blue, pineapple-and-palm-tree print muscle tank rides up over the swell of his belly. Keith's gaze sweeps over Hunk's exposed skin, before his common sense reminds him that it's impolite to stare.

"Get everything you need?" Keith blurts in an attempt to act casual.

"I think I did!" Hunk beams in reply. "I have enough rough sketches to get the feel of the flowers. Now I just need to google the main flower. After I do that, I can start fitting it all together and make some concrete designs."

Keith takes a sprig of dusty miller from his arrangement, mumbles, "Sorry I don't have any king protea for you," then sticks the silver-green foliage right back where it was.

"Dude," Hunk interjects emphatically. "You have helped me so much, you don't even know. I'm not kidding when I say this is my first floral tattoo. I didn't even know where to start before I came over. I owe you big time, seriously."

"You don't owe me anything," Keith says, his shoulders tightening at Hunk's praise. He loves his job and he knows that he has a good eye, but compliments are difficult to accept when he hasn't really done anything. "It was fun."

"Pretty sure I still owe you," Hunk responds with a smile. "How about I buy you lunch at Xi's?"

The brittle tension in Keith's shoulders slips down his spine. While he cannot think of anything better than having lunch at Xi's Noodle Emporium, eating with and talking to the man he has been harboring a crush on for the better part of two months, he also cannot think of anything worse. The tables at Xi's are tiny; if Keith spends an hour knocking his knees against Hunk's legs, he is sure that his face will become hot enough to spontaneously combust.

So instead of accepting Hunk's offer, Keith shakes his head and lies.

"Sorry," he declines. "Shiro and Lance are going to be back soon, and they said they were going to pick up lunch. But—umm—thank you?"

"Oh." Hunk blinks. "Okay." He pauses, his eyes flickering over Keith's face. Briefly, Keith wonders if Hunk can tell that he isn't telling the truth; Shiro has always maintained that Keith is a terrible liar, but Keith doesn't know how accurate the statement is considering that Shiro is also his cousin. "What about some other time this week?"

At this point in their conversation, Keith's back is so tense that if anyone touches him, he may snap in half. He wants to say yes—he really, really does—but he also knows what would happen if he did. He is not good at maintaining conversation, only killing it, and he balks at the thought of their easy rapport dying an awkward but inevitable death.

"Sorry," Keith says again, though this apology sounds much more sincere and much less panicked. "I have a shipment tomorrow and a wedding on Sunday, so I'll be really busy until then."

This, at least, is not a lie. Keith will be consumed by work the moment he receives his awaited order.

"Oh." Hunk's smile dims a little and his gaze dips down. "I guess it is wedding season, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Keith affirms. "It is."

Silence descends and stretches into several very uncomfortable seconds. It is exactly what Keith had been trying to avoid with his first rejection, but he supposes that the presence of such discomfiture only confirms his previous surety of disaster.

"Well, uhh, you gotta do what you gotta do, I guess." Hunk tucks his notebook firmly between his bicep and his torso, then reaches up and scrubs a hand across the back of his neck. "I should get back to the shop and get started on some real sketches. Not that these aren't real, because they're obviously there on the paper, but like—more together? I—shit—I already told you that. About putting it into a single piece. Right?"

"Right," Keith says.

"Because I thought I did, but then I just blanked? Or whatever. But—uhh—thank you? No, that came out wrong." Hunk clears his throat. "I mean, thank you again. For the help. That I needed. For my… client." Hunk visibly winces as he stumbles over his own words, his wide, handsome face momentarily pinched. "Wow, okay, this is not how I imagined this going."

The last statement is muttered beneath Hunk's breath, giving Keith pause. He is a little perplexed by the devolution of Hunk's confidence into disjointed rambles, and this confusion makes him tilt his head and ask, "Imagine what going?"

"Nothing!" Hunk blurts. The hand on the back of his neck flies upwards into the space between them, his palm out and fingers splayed as though to physically deflect Keith's suspicion. "Nothing at all! I was just—just talking to myself! Ha! But seriously, this is me leaving. Right now. You're busy, I've taken up way too much of your time and—bye. Yes. Thank you very much for your time, I hope the rest of your afternoon is great, good luck with the wedding."

After this last sentiment falls out of his mouth, Hunk nods to himself, turns around jerkily, and all but speed-walks to the door with his shoulders squared stiffly and his head held unnaturally high. Then—when his free hand comes into contact with the exit's stainless steel push bar—he stops.

Pauses for the space of a heart beat.

Looks over his bare, tattooed shoulder and grins, small and sheepish and warm.

"Bye," Hunk says.

"Bye," Keith echoes.

Then the bell above the door rattles, and Hunk is outside, skin cast golden beneath the summer sun. Keith watches as he checks for traffic; as he briskly jaywalks across the undivided four lane street; as he approaches the tattoo parlor. He does not look back before he disappears, the door swinging shut behind him, and Keith mentally chides himself for the stab of disappointment he feels. Keith is the one with the inconvenient crush, not Hunk, and no matter how much Keith wants him to, Hunk isn't obligated to cast a final look at the floral shop…

Or ask Keith out to lunch for a third time.

"Stupid," Keith mutters to himself as he drags his gaze away from the tattoo parlor's closed door and back towards the table. He needs to finish his arrangement, not stand in the middle of the shop and overanalyze every word he and Hunk exchanged. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…"

And with that mantra in his brain, Keith grabs his trimming scissors from his apron pocket, and gets back to work.

to be continued!

#heith #keith #hunk #my fic #text

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