#HIS MURDER!! HIS DAD WAS ONCE SOBER FOR TWO WHOLE DAYS AND CARVED HIM A SOLDIER TOY!!! HE CRIED WHEN THE MAJOR CALLED HIM A TRAITOR TO ANKH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

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DEAD WALLS RISE - BARNABY

PART ONE

WARNING: Mentions of death, torture, war, and cannibalism.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could still smell the incense and hear the sound of his soles as he walked to his old office. The gentle curve of the corridor and the carved masonry. The smell of his paints and paper, the feel of his pens in his hands, and the simple pleasure of creating another page. Another moment in time captured. The words of his people written and record for their descendants to read.

But as soon as the memories of such pleasant times came to him, so did all that followed. The screams of his fellows as towering shadows corralled and herded them all down through the gully and to the waiting traps. The snapping of ropes as people were snared and the screams of confusion and terror as whole groups were entangled with nets being thrown from up high. Their group of seventeen had all been captured so easily. Only two or three had managed to escape. Or so it was believed as they were not counted among the captives.

It was just as easy that one or two of the giants had taken liberty of them themselves and the only thing he could think to do was to send a fervent prayer to the Gods that their ends, if that had been their fate, had been quick and without pain.

And he then extended that prayer to himself and his fellows.

…………………………………….

He never found out how they discovered who he was. All he knew was that he had been violently awoken one morning by a Vhasshalan guard as he reached into his cell – or cage rather – and peeled him away from the others crammed inside with him. Cruel fingers dug into his ribs and he found it difficult to breathe. But then all at once he’d been tossed onto a cold stone floor and a voice he knew, a voice that he dreaded, spoke to him. A voice like thunder and dripping with malice.

“You are Barnabas MacVoy Devonshire,” said King Nethrin. Not a question. A statement.

Through parched lips he said, “I am. My lord.”

“That traitorous murderous Haeral’s archivist?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good,” King Nethrin said, the venom of his words taking on a sickly sweet quality. “I have need of your talents. Give me what I wish and you’ll be preserved for much longer than those wretches in the kitchens. Displease me and I’ll have you placed in the front of the line.”

How he wished he could claim to have been brave. To have withheld and withstood their torture. To have died with his honor and loyalty to his King intact. But he broke after the third day. Lack of food and water and the pain…

...now he only wished for death. And King Nethrin was glad to give it to him.

…………………………………

Their cages were wood reinforced with metal and they were stacked on top of one another. Seven bodies to a cage. Ten cages total. Their entire existence was contained within a shed. A single lantern was lit to give them some measure of light. And though they all knew why they were in this place and what would happen to them the day they left that shed...it was a notable improvement over the dungeons. They were given water, bread, and each cage had a chamber pot. Though they were cramped, they were warm.

But it did not change the fact that every man in that shed was going to be eaten. They were no more than cattle. And the shed was a larder.

Most of them had been soldiers. Several of them were wounded still. A few were civilians. Most all of them were older, but there was one young fellow that shared his cage that did not look to be a day over seventeen and his heart broke for the boy. The young man still wore the underclothes of a solider, his armor long since stripped from him.

Once a day, in the afternoon, the shed door would open and two giants would take the next cage. Those inside were never seen again. They never heard any screams. The giants rarely ever spoke to them or even seemed able to meet their faces. On the few times they did speak, it was soft. Apologetic. Guilty. And how young most of them seemed. It occurred to him much later in his captivity that it was possible that those giants working in the kitchens might very well be doing so against their will. Prisoners almost as much as their human charges.

After all, Silvaara and Vhasshal had been allies for hundreds of years. Surely it was possible that there were some who disagreed with their King. But who could stand up to a man with such power? Nethrin’s hatred and blood lust was pure and blind and all consuming. His eldest son and heir had been murdered and he would see the world burn for it and they would know his pain a thousand fold.

The day Barnabas was to die, the shed door opened and two young giants walked in, looking haggard and wretched. Without even meeting the faces of the humans within, they each grabbed a side of the cage and hauled it outside.

He watched their faces through the bars, finding himself feeling very sorry for them. How terrible it must be do be forced to such vile and wicked work. The brown haired giant’s eyes glanced over the seven human captives and his eyes lingered on the young solider and his pensive eyes turned distressed.

“...ah, fuck. Yale,” he said quietly with a forlorn look and reluctant eyes. “Look...”

The black haired giant’s eyes focused in on the young solider and he sighed. “I know...just...let the boss handle it. Okay, Saen?”

“Okay...but...”

“We can’t help them.”

“...isn’t there...something?”

“You’d loose your head for it. And then he’d send Baynor after yer Mum and Dad and the rest of ‘em.”

“...right.”

“They’re already dead, Saen. They just don’t know it yet.”

But Barnabas did. He knew he was dead. And for his betrayal of his King...of his country...he knew that he deserved such an end.

……………………………………………..

Their cage had been placed unceremoniously inside a room off of the main kitchen behind a red door and left there. Many of the men inside had been able to compose themselves for most of their time, but as the moment of their deaths loomed ever nearer, those walls began to break.

A few of the men, well into their forties, were openly sobbing. Someone was praying. But the rest, including himself, were deathly silent. Then at last, their death came. In the form of a burly red hair giant with the greenest eyes Barnaby had ever seen.

“Here’s what gonna happen, fellas,” He said to them as he shut the red door behind him. He went to a small cupboard and pulled down a green glass bottle. His voice was businesslike, but still had an air of regret to it. From the same cupboard he pulled out seven small cups. Human cups. They looked absurdly small in his large palm. He tipped his hand over the cage and dropped the cups inside. “Yer gonna be given as much whiskey as ye can fuckin’ take. And yer all gonna drink it till yer right and proper pissed. And then yer all gonna pass out.” He paused, frighteningly sharp green eyes baring into them. “But ye won’t be waking up again.”

The young solider beside him pipped up. His voice shook as he asked, “H-how...how are you gonna…?”

“Snap yer necks. Quick. Painless,” said the giant as he looked into each of their faces. “S’the only mercy I can afford ye boys.”

Those green eyes seemed to linger on the young solider for longer and his frown deepened. After filling a barrel sized bowl of whiskey from the green bottle, he opened the cage and placed it inside before shutting it again.

“And what if we don’t?” asked one of the others. An older man. A civilian.

The giant’s expression did not change. “I snap yer neck regardless. It’s yer choice if ye wanna be conscious fer it.”

He left them then to consider their choices and when it came down to it, they all dipped their cups and drank. He had never considered himself a heavy drinker. A glass of wine every now and then, but he rarely ever drank whiskey and he found it a challenge to force himself to drink it. Especially in such quantities. The young solider seemed to be having just as much difficultly, but the other encouraged him on, pushing his cup into his face and tipping it back for him. After his second cup, the boy began to sob.

“Never would have thought the fuckers would give us anything half way decent,” said one of men. “But this shit’s...actually pretty nice.”

“Small mercies,” said another.

“Well, gentlemen,” said another as he raised his cup. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you and I pray the Gods take pity on our damned souls. Long live the King.”

“Long live King Haeral.” They raised their cups, but even as he brought his up as well, he felt the utter shame pulling at him. If they all knew what he had done...

He drained the rest of his cup and went to refill it, not having much of a care for the tears falling from his cheeks.

…………………...

He drifted between sleep and alertness as one would bob along on a wave. Up and down...in and out. And then voices drifting above...

“...What? When?”

“Few hours ago.”

“By who?”

“I can’t tell ye, Farris.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter? He’s dead. Warren wants all the humans taken to the great hall. But since these poor sods are still blathered, let ‘em rest and come to. Then ye can tell ‘em the good news. I’ll let the Prince...well...I’ll let the King know to be expecting them later once the poor fuckers sober up a bit.”

“...it can’t be that simple, Keral. There’s plenty of others who are going resist.”

“Believe me. We have it covered. This wasn’t an on the fly operation. Your boys are safe.”

“What about...”

“I’ve already sent a message to Vaspien to send Bart back.”

“So he’s still alive?”

“Per my last report he was.”

“Gods fuckin’ be praised...”

“Heh, never thought I’d hear ye say that. Mum would be so proud of ye. Not the fuckin’ bit, but ye know..”

“Ah, shut up, will ye? I’m just glad this fuckin’ mandess had an end. I’m not sure how much longer I could’ve stood it. That batch of ‘em there. There’s a solider. A boy, Keral. Younger than any one of my boys out there.”

“Well, thankfully ye didn’t have to do it...”

“I was so close though...an hour more and...”

“I know. As soon as I could I came to tell ye.”

“...they don’t know yet.”

“What?”

“They don’t know about Haeral yet.”

“...they will. They’re gonna wake up to a whole new world, Farris.”

“Yeah. The first thing I’m gonna do?”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“Paint that damn fuckin’ door.”

#DEAD WALLS RISE #Barnaby #g/t #war #suffering #POW #giant tiny #g/t fantasy story #Farris #King Nethrin #Keral #cannibalism #content warning #dumpling side story #dumpling

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everyonesomething · 6 years

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Session 23d

Grim: "I'm gettin' real sick of your crap, Ozu."

Edith Runekill: "What kinda farm?"

Capridi turns to grim, "Hey, I didn't choose the circus life. The circus life chose me."

Pepper: "How do you move a movie theatre?" she puzzles at the sky.

Malkas: "Huh."

Pepper: "Is that why they call 'em movies."

Capridi: "Yeah, what pepper said"

Grim: "You chose a life've bullshit and shruggin' off consequences is what."

Capridi: "And is that really such a crime?"

Grim: "I don't take kindly to bein' lied to, an' I don't see as you've ever given us word one to trust."

Sydney Gaydos KNOWS. KNOWS but she'll be nice and nod along to the story.

In this session, it’s Cap’s turn in the spotlight.

The set-up: Three stories down, three to go!

The Game: With Syd’s story done, attention naturally shifts to the other dragonborn in the party.

Edith Runekill: "It's one thing to try to do good, it's another to be able to actually... navigate that."

Grim: "Tryin's more'n some ever get around to." Grim is looking at Cap again.

Sydney Gaydos: "Also that. Gaydos assumes she was "lucky" in getting some police officers who were rather.. small and a bit more easily swayed." She BEAMS at all the praise. "Gaydos thanks you for the kind words, and hopes her actions continue to speak for herself."

Capridi isn't paying attention to Grim, the fire is too captivating

Pepper: "Nancyyyyyyyyyyy, Grim's talking to yooooooooou."

Capridi forgot who the hell Nancy is

Pepper is more alcohol than elf at the moment.

Edith Runekill: "Nancy?"

"Oh, right."

Capridi: "who?"

Edith Runekill: "You introduced yourself as 'Nancy Drow' for some reason...?"

Hiram: "You doin' okay there, scruff?" Hiram eyes Cap

Capridi shrugs "probably"

Capridi looks up at Hiram "yer not lookin' so trim yourself"

Hiram cracks a grin

Hiram: "Ain't that the truth."

Grim lights a cigarette, staring at Cap

Grim: "How 'bout you tell us a li'l somethin' about yourself, now."

"Nancy."

"Reckon it ain't before time."

Pepper: "Don' make fun of Hiram, I like him," she frowns. This is clearly a convincing argument to her.

Capridi: "I was a traveling circus performer caught up in a pyramid scheme. Those were younger days. You do whatever you can to make money for the family back on the farm. The jerks on top decided to pin it all on me, me... being a dumb kid who didn't know shit. So I had to run from my job at the traveling movie theater and then I ended up in a library aaaaand then you guys found me. Pretty cut and dry."

Pepper, Mal, and Edith accept this at face value but Grim and Sydney aren’t fooled. Grim’s had enough.

Grim: "It's bullshit, Runekill, like everything out've this one's mouth."

Pepper starts to sense this conversation's taking a bit of a swerve. She looks up at Grim, very confused.

Capridi throws up her hands "What the hell do you want? My birth certificate?"

Edith Runekill: "We wouldn't have wound up here, doing this, if we didn't each and every one of us walk a strange path to get here."

Pepper: "I took a boat," Pepper adds, helpfully unhelpful.

Grim: "I want to know you ain't about to turn around and put everythin' to waste the day it suits you, Ozu."

Capridi is hardly what you call sober but she knows what Grim is wanting from her "Fiiiine, what do I gotta do to prove to you that I won't murder you in elaborate ways in your sleep like some sort of vaudeville bad guy?"

Capridi: "I mean, if I wanted to murder all of you, I'd be more willing to tag along. Instead I got a gun pointed to my face if I don't take up the job."

Grim: "You can start by cuttin' the horseshit. If you got nothin' honest to say, say nothin'."

Edith Runekill looks unsure of this. "Cap's saved our lives a whole bunch of times by now..."

Malkas: "Cap, if you tell us like, a truthful story, I'll give ya... Forty gold."

Hey, that’s a good deal. Everyone else was doing it for free.

Edith does her best to defend Cap, pointing out all the times she’s healed up the group. Grim says they still don’t even know who she is beyond a few healing spells and she doesn’t like the idea of owing anything to a criminal who’s done nothing but lie to them.

Capridi is getting annoyed, "bitch, we all gotta do what we need to survive. In this case, I gotta survive a gun toting lunatic with a hair trigger. Who knows what'll set you off? Crime or no crime."

Grim: "Or 'less you'll do just about anything to stay alive."

Pepper: "Hey don't. C'mon now. Don't." She's trying to sit up. "This isn' about Grim." It's not clear who she's talking to.

Grim: "Go fuck yourself, lamb chop."

Capridi: "Wow, sheep joke. Haven't heard that one before, hillbilly."

Edith Runekill: "Grim..."

Hiram: "Girl." Hiram looks at Grim and grabs her arm as she lurches to her feet.

Edith Runekill looks Worried

Hiram: "Get on down and clean up the pans. And cool your head down in the creek if you got half the sense."

Grim glowers at Cap, then at Hiram, then growls and snatches up the pan to go do as she's told

Capridi: "yeah, listen to your dad."

Hiram looks at Capridi

Hiram: "You. Tread careful."

Sydney Gaydos carefully moves Pepper Away from the fire as she's sitting up.

Capridi is deadpan, slow sarcastic jazz hands

Hiram guesses correctly that Cap and Grim haven’t gotten along the whole trip. Cap tells him that no, they didn’t, she finds it hard to move on from being shot. He tells her it probably wasn’t anything personal, but it’s hard not to take being shot personally. She relents, though, and tells a story.

Capridi sighs "If you guys want a story, I'll give you one. But don't cry to me if you get bored."

Sydney Gaydos claps her hands together. "Gaydos will listen with rapt attention!"

Pepper WON'T. She folds her arms and looks away down to where Grim went.

Capridi: "I'm more or less a drifter. I stopped in one town, brightlake, or something. I stepped into a bar, a kinda seedier part of town. After a few comments about livestock, one guy needed a prescription for a five finger sandwich."

"Haha, get it, i punched a dude"

"Anyway, these drama queens had to start a bar fight. Next thing I know the paddy wagon is heading our way and I duck out the back through the window in the rest room. Well, more like the wall? Those windows are small even for you humans. Hardly accommodating but I guess that keeps people from skipping out on their tabs."

"I lost the feds and stumbled into the brush. Next thing I know, I'm locked in a library for like two weeks. The books that weren't magic traps full of dragons or whatever weren't even that interesting to read."

"I built a fort, carved my name into a bookshelf, you know, stave off boredom."

"And then you guys show up, there's a dragon, and Grim shoots me."

Edith Runekill: "I'm... I'm sure you could'a found something interesting to read in Candlekeep."

"They got a lot there."

Capridi: "what, reference books? Cookbooks? Academic texts? Yeah, real fun"

Pepper: "[Elvish] Fort Asshole," she says, a bit late.

Pepper is mumbling mostly to herself.

Edith Runekill: "The length and breadth of world culture and knowledge! The cumulative scholarship of an age! Lost texts unknown to the outside world on every shelf!"

Capridi: "THERE WEREN'T EVEN ANY PICTURES"

Hiram: "Books is overrated."

Capridi: "Right?"

Hiram puffs on his pipe

Edith Runekill looks bummed about that.

Hiram: "Burn too easy for holdin' real important stuff."

Edith Runekill: "I was real careful! I didn't prepare any fire spells the day we went in."

Malkas passes two twenty-gold notes to Capridi.

Capridi pockets the notes.

Capridi sinks against the log, and stares into the fire once more.

Look at that, progress and profit. What a good evening everyone's having.

#previously on #summary #neverwinter 1933

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notgonnarememberthis · 7 years

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The Lying Angel - Chapter 2

The reception of this fic was so wonderful! Thank you guys so much! I plan on writing this fic to completion but I have no prediction of how long it will be just yet. Just stick with me and we’ll see where this road takes us! Enjoy!

The cab ride was eerily silent besides the incessant tapping of the sole of Sherlock’s shoe as he bounced his leg. It was like that the entire way to the airport where apparently Dylan had a plane waiting. Sherlock made quite a show of taking an opposite end of the plane as the two women made their way into the cockpit. Joan sits herself in the copilot’s seat securing all of the necessary equipment on herself.

“Still remember how to fly?” Dylan teases lightly in an attempt to ease the tension in the air.

“Like riding a bike.” Joan quips back automatically. They fall into a steady rhythm setting up for flight. It was like they’d never separated…

“So… Who’s the guy?” Dylan’s flipped on autopilot spinning around to face her. Not good.

“He’s my co-worker.” A pointed look brings Joan to roll her eyes. “I met him a few months after I left. I became a sober companion and his father called me. Now we work as private investigators for the NYPD.”

“You’ve never liked local police.”

“Marcus and Gregson are different. They’re good.”

“And who are they?” Joan glares at the woman.

“Oh come on! Far as I know, you’re the only angel not in a relationship. I gotta maintain some of my sanity in this whole mess.” Dylan frowns.

“You’re in a steady relationship with someone who’s not a bad guy?” She smirks.

“Turns out all I needed was a good girl to balance it out.” Her head snaps around quickly staring at the redhead next to her.

“How long?”

“About 2 years now. I met her while on a case in Hawaii. She moved to Washington when she got put on witness protection. Guess we had something in common.” The smile on her lips is brighter than Joan’s seen in awhile. She reaches over squeezing her friend’s hand.

“I’m happy for you Dylan. I hope I get to meet her.”

“I hope so.” She grins. “Cause now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

“I count on it.” Joan laughs. Dylan sighs shifting in her seat uncomfortably. She knows what’s coming. “No.”

“Alex… We need to talk about what happened.”

“No we don’t.” She insists.

“It’s not your fault.”

“We’re not talking about this.” Joan pushes.

“Why are you pushing me away again? It’s been five years.”

“I’m not talking about this now.” She sighs pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes trying to will the image away.

“Does he know?”

“Barely.” Joan sighs. “He thinks I was a surgeon. I already had my medical license so it wasn’t hard to keep up with the lie.”

“I mean your dad did for how long?”

“Seven years.” She smiles slightly at the memory. “Sherlock couldn’t know what I did. I didn’t want him ever to. That’s why I used an alias for my name. I created Alex so the people around me wouldn’t get hurt because of me. Now look where we are.”

“You should really talk to him.”

“And say what?” She scoffs. “I’m sorry I’ve known you for five years and you had no idea I was an American spy for a guy whose face I’ve never seen. I’m sorry I let you believe you were teaching me how to defend myself when I know seven different ways how to kill a man with nothing more than a paperclip and a piece of string.”

“Hey you have to admit that was a fun op.” Dylan laughs for a second. “I see what you mean though.”

“Sherlock isn’t the same as anyone else. His ex kind of turned out to be a crazy murderer he was hunting for nearly a year. He discovered this years after she faked her own murder.”

“Whoa.”

“I’ve ruined it all.”

“Joan… go talk to him. It’ll be rough but he cares about you. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been that hurt by the truth.”

“Don’t call me Joan. That’s weird.” Dylan laughs shortly. “You can still call me Alex.”

“Okay Alex. Go.”

“Thanks…”

“Anytime.”

She finds Sherlock sitting at the back of the plan computer opened in front of him, no doubt with hundreds of articles opened being read in less than five seconds each. He hears her approaching, she can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Not sure whether to remain still or to run. Joan takes the place across from him. His eyes flicker up to her with doubt filling them.

“What do you want to know?” This catches his attention. He closes his laptop meeting her eyes now.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want anyone to be hurt. The only time I was Alex was around Dylan, Nat, and a few choice boyfriends I met on assignments.”

“I could’ve handled it.”

“I couldn’t.” He frowns in confusion now. “I did kill that man. He didn’t die on my table though. Nat and Dylan were chasing down a man that had planned an attack on a senator. I was guarding him… I spotted the man and he was about to take the shot. So I took mine… I missed.”

“Watson…”

“I hit a civilian. He was just walking to work, that’s it. Completely innocent and I killed him.”

“Joan.”

“You have every right to be angry Sherlock. I hope you’ll forgive me one day.” She whispers just barely loud enough for him to hear.

He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, not fond of emotional moments. “I am angry. I thought you trusted me as I do you.” She could feel his eyes on her, analyzing her. It’s painful but she deserves it. “I wish you’d have told me sooner rather than finding out this way.” He grabs her hand snatching her eyes to his once more when she could no longer take the disappointment filling them. “I only wish for you to be honest with me Watson. We are partners are we not?”

“We are.”

“Very well. Now I would like to hear about the time some mysterious women saved Mount Rushmore.” He says with a raised eyebrow. A tiny smile etches at her lips. It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. Rather a desire to learn more. To learn the truth.

“As you wish.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They landed in a field somewhere in Georgia. The landing strip was relatively abandoned amongst the expanse of plants around them aside from a lonesome building at the edge of it.

“I’ve got a car waiting for us inside the garage. Follow me.” Dylan explains leading the way. The silence was more comfortable than before but still unbearing. Dread mixed with a little bit of fear filled both of the women as they inched closer to the city.

Joan spies the blonde as they pull up on the street. She’s standing outside alone with her arms wrapped around herself in some way of self protection. She has to keep herself from launching out of the car as soon as they slow down. Once she’s positive they’ve come to a stop she’s running out to comfort her friend.

“Nat.” She whispers wrapping her in a fierce hug.

“Alex.” The other woman mumbles back burying her face in her shoulder. As she pulls back she can see Natalie’s eyes are red rimmed from tears, her nose bright against the sun as well.

“Where’s Pete?”

“Inside talking to his parents. I insisted that he go and stay with them until we’re sure it’s safe.” She nods understanding. Suddenly the woman’s eyes grow hard and her stance defensive as her gaze falls behind her. “Who’s that?”

She spins around and sure enough Sherlock is already combing through the yard looking for evidence of footprints or a struggle. Leave it to him not even to introduce himself. “That’s Sherlock Holmes. He’s my partner.”

“Partner?” Natalie’s eyes go wide before falling to her hands.

“Not like that.”

“Mhm.” Dylan hums from behind her earning an elbow to the gut. “Ow. Play nice.”

“Wait.” Natalie freezes. “The Sherlock Holmes? Like best private investigator in New York Sherlock Holmes?”

“And Joan Watson.” Dylan teases bumping hips with her.

“You’re Joan Watson!?” Natalie laughs momentarily forgetting the situation at hand. “I should have figured one of the two best detectives in New York was my little miss overachiever.”

“Stop.” Joan mutters as her cheeks flush red. “We’re here to help however we can.”

“Right.” The joy disappears from her face as she leads them all inside. Pete is pacing in the kitchen on the phone and Natalie goes ahead and leads them up the stairs. The house looks relatively untouched. No pictures out of line, no empty spots where an item once was.

The creek of the door snaps Joan out of her thoughts as Natalie leads them to Charlie’s room. Joan takes her hand for support as she guides them inside. Surely enough the struggle is the most evident inside. The curtains are torn down in front of the open window, toys scattered across the floor. The only comfort she could find was that there was no evidence of blood anywhere.

The message written into the walls is even more ominous in person than the photos Dylan had shown her. As if instinctively, Sherlock passes her a pair of gloves and plastic bags. She’s not sure how much evidence they’ll find but it won’t hurt to try.

“Mrs…”

“Cook.”

“Ah yes. Mrs. Cook, did Charlie express worries about previous encounters with anyone? Someone may have come up to him in the street? Perhaps at school?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Did Charlie act strange before his disappearance?”

“No.” Their voices fade as Joan steps into the hall to investigate herself. As she’s making her way through she spies a set of photos on a desk at the far side of the room. Natalie has her arms wrapped around Charlie as they saddle a horse together. In another, Dylan has her arm wrapped around the back of a tanned woman with a wavy hair. Come and see us soon. -Dylan and Nomi, was inscribed into the frame. Next, a photo of herself from before they left sipping a cup of tea by the fireplace. A chill runs down her spine at the last photo, however. It was from they went to the beach with Bosley all those years ago. The three of them had their arms wrapped around each other with the sea in the background. However, their faces had been x-ed out. On the back of the frame was a message carved with a knife.

All the angels will fall and join us mortals in their descent.

#joanlock #joan x sherlock #joan watson #Sherlock Holmes #dylan saunders #alex munday #natalie cook #charlies angels au #kinda #slow burn #elementary #elementary cbs #elementary au

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