This was my season's beatings gift for @spicywhumper and I thought I'd share it here too. Lyra is their OC. Ash, if you'd like me to delete this post, just let me know.
Content warning for needles, vomit, and (discussion of) blood.
As Lyra stepped out of the campus coffee shop, she was suddenly jolted, causing her to drop the latte she’d just bought. She instinctively fell into a protective stance before her brain caught up to what had happened. The pretty blonde woman who’d bumped into her was hovering closely, looking very apologetic.
“I’m so sorry! I totally wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?”
“Yep,” said Lyra, who was distracted by mourning her spilled coffee. She would need caffeine if she was going to go out on patrol that night as she’d planned.
“Can I make it up to you by buying you a new coffee?” the woman asked, “Or is there somewhere you need to be?”
Lyra’s first instinct was to make a polite excuse and refuse the offer of help, but she really would need the caffeine, and she couldn’t exactly afford a new drink from the campus shop. Reluctantly, she acquiesced.
Stepping back into the coffee shop, she gave the barista her order for the second time that day. Then she and the women sat down in a booth to wait.
“So, what’s your name?” Lyra asked.
“Oh! I’m so sorry; I completely forgot to introduce myself! I’m Anika. And what's your name?”
“Lyra,” said Lyra, beginning to fall into the easy rhythm of small talk. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What are you studying?”
“Oh, that’s probably because I live off campus,” Anika explained. “I’m studying to be a nurse.”
Lyra was prevented from responding by the barista calling her name, and from standing by Anika telling her she’d go get it.
“Do you want sugar and cream?”
“Yeah, one of each, but I really can get it myse-”
“Please, let me do it. It’ll make me feel better.”
“Okay,” Lyra said, giving in and ignoring the blush she could feel on her cheeks.
“Yay!” Anika said, getting the coffee from the counter and walking over to the cart that held sugar, straws, and the like. She turned away from Lyra to add to the coffee. Then, sitting back in her seat, she presented the drink to her with a flourish. “Ta-da!”
“Thanks!” Lyra sipped at the coffee, and, because neither of them seemed to have anywhere else to be, resumed the conversation. However, she was having a hard time focusing on the woman in front of her. Her brain was foggy, and her stomach and throat felt like they were being squeezed.
She held out as long as she could, hoping that Anika would soon announce that she had something else she needed to be doing. Unfortunately, the woman across from her seemed to have all the time in the world, meaning she would need to find a way to politely excuse herself from the situation.
Unfortunately, it seemed she had waited too long and polite wasn’t an option for her anymore. She was shivering despite the warm atmosphere of the café, and her vision was doing fun things such as doubling and blurring at the edges. “I’m sorry,” she told one of the three Anikas in front of her, “but I think I need to go.”
And with that, she promptly went — went unconscious, that is.
When Lyra awoke, she knew right away that something was wrong. Werewolf senses could be both a blessing and a curse, but at times like these, she was grateful that she was able to get a grip on her environment without opening her eyes. Okay. Her stomach churned and her throat felt tight, but those weren’t new developments. Her wrists and ankles seemed to be twisted tightly together. The crook of her left elbow ached. The surface she was lying on felt comfortably soft, but there were no pillows. The smell was unfamiliar, but somewhere in the same neighborhood as ammonia. She definitely wasn’t alone.
Carefully, she dared to open her eyes.
When she did, she was greeted with the startling sight of (a slightly blurry) Anika peering into her face. The woman smiled at her. “Hello, puppy.”
Lyra sucked in a wheezing breath and tried to scoot back, but soon realized what the pressure on her wrists and ankles was. Rope, binding them together. Fun. And the pain in her elbow? There was a pad of gauze there, taped down but not completely managing to hide the bruising underneath.
“What did you do?” she demanded, but the hoarseness of her voice undermined it a bit.
“I might have accidentally slipped a bit of aconite in your cup.” Anika giggled. “Whoopsies.”
“Why?” Lyra asked, because the how was glaringly obvious.
“Surely you’re aware of the price werewolf blood goes for on the black market,” she teased.
Lyra had a witty retort on the tip of her tongue. Really, she did. Unfortunately, the bile in the back of her throat managed to escape first. To add insult to injury, the coffee that was the source of all this trouble burned her throat as she retched it up. The rope prevented her from wiping her face, and the gagging didn’t stop, even when there wasn’t anything left to bring up.
It seemed wolfsbane didn’t agree with her. Wow. Who’d have thought.
She tried to glare at Anika, but the tears that had been forced into her eyes, the tears that she was unable to dry, must’ve made her look pretty pathetic.
Anika leaned forward to wipe the vomit from her face with a sweet smile. “Don’t worry, puppy. I would never kill you. You’re much more valuable to me alive.”
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i haven't watched pearl's episode yet. but there's something to be said about the fact that she knew scar well enough to know that, when it was the two of them, he would have too much pride to accept a sacrifice.
she doesn't want to win, and she tells him at first before she quietly tucks that secret back into its shell after scar's indignant reaction to her first attempt at self-sacrifice. she lets scar forget about it as they kill gem, and then as scar kills pearl. at no point does she try to say here, let me give this to you. she knows scar, but she also knows the pain of an ending like that.
but she misses a few swings, doesn't she? her legs don't move as quickly to duck away from his arrows. and isn't that familiar? isn't that something like a cactus ring, with two unrelenting fists and two half-hearted ones: a fight with two unwilling participants, a fight that was over before it ever really began at the insistence of one of its patrons
pearl is all too familiar with the sting of sacrifice, but then on the other side of things... scar knows all too well the tragedy of gifted victory, doesn't he?
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