Snippet Sunday
I've been working on this cowboy AU for days upon days. I've tentatively named it Bite of the Hell Hound.
As usual this is an open call for anyone who wants to play along. Tagged by @dear-massacre. Wish I had something I was more dedicated to sharing, but we ball.
From Chapter 1:
Stiles heard the beat of hooves first. He couldn’t see through the dust storm stirring up around him. Squinting barely prevented the sands and dusts from stinging his face and eyes. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself and the tallow and trudged in the direction he thought the bordello was in.
He was a fool not to take the warnings of Old Man Grindle’s hip more seriously.
The wind tugged him this way and that. At times it was all he could do to remain anchored to the ground.
When he heard the quick beat of hooves, he dropped heavily to the shifting ground and ducked his head between the lapels of his jacket. The storm was loud. The dust particles were bruising.
Each bit of dust carried on the wind needled into any bare skin it could touch. Stiles squinted through the debris.
The horse reared over Stiles. It’s massive hooves swinging through the browned air. The whiny was soft in comparison with the howl of the winds. Stiles ducked his head tighter.
He would be crushed. And before he could even get out of this putrid fester of a town.
Stiles squeezed his eyes shut against the pain being trampled by a horse would surely bring. The dust stung at his eyelids.
He was lifted. Sat on the firm curve of a saddle before he heard a “yah!” He was moving. Quickly. He wrapped his arms around the midsection of the stranger. The tallow he was still carrying pressed firmly between their bodies. Stiles was sure the tallow was seeping through his coat in the front and his shirts to his skin.
It wasn’t long before the sounds of the dust trickled down to a muffled howl. Stiles didn’t need to wipe his eyes free of the dust to know that they were inside.
Stiles felt the person extract themself from Stiles’ arms before lifting Stiles from the horse and standing him on the ground.
Stiles used one hand to wipe the dust from his eyes. Or he would have, if the other person hadn’t smacked Stiles’ hands out of the way. Gently swaying them from his face.
Then, the hands were fitted over his eyes, and with gentle sweeps they brushed the excess grit from Stiles’ face. The fingers left trails of blazing heat across Stiles’ cheeks. When Stiles could open his eyes again, he wished he couldn’t.
His gravel-laden breath caught in his chest.
It was the man from before. Stiles gaped. If god were real, this man would have been his seraph. Floating gently near God's feet, easily the favorite.
Or perhaps, this man was Satan, if the look of rage on his face was anything to go on. Cast from the heavens and forced to walk the earth with mere mortals.
Somewhere outside of the barn, the howl of the sandstorm lowered itself to nothing but a dull breeze. The storm had ended.
Stiles’ mouth was dry, and getting drier with each millisecond that passed that Stiles failed to rip his eyes from this man.
“Stay out of my way,” the man’s voice was gruff, probably rough from the sand. Stiles jerked back, his mouth clicking closed. Before Stiles could say anything, the man turned on his heel and walked his horse out of the barn.
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Joel turns around. Martyn is standing there. His eyes are a burning red that gives Joel the heebie-jeebies. If anyone would know to be scared, it's Joel! He would! He'd recognize a mad dog if he saw one anywhere!
Anyway, all of that is to say that his high-pitched scream had been totally justified. "Oh my word Martyn what are you doing here?" he says, clutching his hand over his heart, several feet further back than he'd been thirty seconds ago.
Martyn snorts. "Is the sign not for me? Figured there was no one else it could be for."
"The what?"
"The sign."
Joel turns around. Outside his base, the other Mounders have hung a helpful banner: "SORRY EVERYONE YOU LOVE IS DEAD <3".
He'd told them it was kind of rude, hanging that up. Sort of made light of the whole thing, really. His wife and Mumbo and Jimmy had died, guys, don't be idiots about it. Bdubs had loudly told him that he was TRYING to be helpful, Joel, geez, why don't you appreciate his efforts? Pearl had shrugged and said they don't exactly make cards for this kind of thing. Joel's pretty sure they do, actually but...
Sorry everyone you love is dead. Hah.
"My wife is dead, Martyn," Joel says.
"Who, Lizzie or Jimmy?" Martyn says, weirdly dark. "Anyway, my husband's dead, so--"
"Your what?"
"Mumbo and I got married one time. Everyone forgets that for some reason."
Joel has to think about it a while. "Huh."
"Yeah. Anyway, you've still got the other Mounders, huh? Don't know what you're crying about. Thought the sign had to be for me. Thought I'd show up. Get cake. Kill some people. You know how it is."
"If there's a TNT minecart in my base, the first thing I do after I turn red is kill you," Joel says.
"That's not really how it works this time," Martyn says.
"Yeah, well, screw you," Joel says. "Also, they didn't make me any cake. I should ask them for that next. Hah. A cake."
"You know, maybe don't ask for that? Parties tend to go wrong in this game."
"And who's fault is that, huh?"
"Hey, don't look at me! Or, do. Since I'm going to kill everyone, on account of everyone I love being dead and all. Really convenient excuse for murder, that. I should use it more often, if it didn't involve the crippling grief," Martyn says.
"Oh, please. At least you tend to have people to love in the first place," Joel snaps.
"Oh, right, that is your curse, isn't it?" Martyn says. "Sorta broke it last time, but you do tend to get isolated and a bit crazy. Hey, I wonder if we're the ones who traded, actually what with the whole wolf thing."
Joel blinks. "What?"
"Oh, we're all cursed," Martyn says. "After all, They like it better that way. Hey, do you think Jimmy's curse transferred to Lizzie, got cancelled out by the fact Lizzie tends to die stupidly, or got broken? Personally, I'm thinking random fluke, when it comes to canary nonsense."
Joel stares at Martyn. His throat is dry. "What?"
Martyn stares back. "Hey, I'm the mad dog this time," Martyn says. "You probably shouldn't be the one growling."
"Well then, you should stop saying stupid shit," Joel says.
"Stupid? Please. It's obvious everyone is cursed. Nothing to be done about it but to play into the--"
"NO ONE IS BLUMIN' CURSED," Joel shouts, his vision suddenly red and blurry in a way it shouldn't be when he's still on yellow. "NO ONE IS BLUMIN' CURSED. THERE'S NO SUCH THING! YOU'RE JUST, JUST MAKIN' UP REASONS IT ISN'T ALL A TRAGEDY THAT EVERYONE I LOVE IS FUCKING DEAD, MAKING UP REASONS THAT IT--NO ONE IS CURSED! IT JUST HAPPENS! IT JUST HAPPENS! IT JUST FUCKING HAPPENS! AND WOULDN'T IT BE BLUMIN' NICE IF THERE WERE A HIGHER POWER BUT THERE ISN'T SO SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT CURSES!"
He's panting. Martyn is staring at him. He stares back, a snarl on his teeth, the echoes of wolves and of grief, grief, grief, grief playing at the back of his throat.
"Joel?" Martyn says, hesitant.
"My wife is fucking dead. My best friend is fucking dead. One of my new possible best friends is fucking dead. Sorry about your husband, I guess? Get out."
"Bold thing to say to the guy who can kill--"
"I SAID GET OUT!"
Martyn stares at Joel a moment longer, and Joel finds he's not scared of the madness in his eyes at all.
Martyn leaves.
Joel realizes he's crying. The tears turn into giant, ugly sobs. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry everyone you love is dead.
"I blumin' hate caring about people," he says to no one at all through choked breaths, and he kicks a rock at the banner for good measure. It pokes a little hole through it and bounces off the dick-shaped tower behind it.
"Someone really should have made both of us a blumin' cake, they should," he says next, and he sits down until Pearl runs over, having heard the shouting. His face is red and his vision is still swimming. She stares at him, gathers him in her arms, and cries with him, and for the life of him, he doesn't know if that's any better.
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