#KADEN STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM RIGHT NOW! *cries*

[chasseurdeloup]

Tough Love || Solo [Flashback]

TIMING: 1996 LOCATION: Lyon, France SUMMARY: A six year old Kaden finds a ““dog”” in the woods and tries to bring his new pet home to mom. CONTENT WARNINGS: Animal death, child abuse, emotional abuse (all implied)

“Maman, maman! Look what I found! Look, look!” The door slammed behind Kaden as he carried an odd, wrinkled almost dog-like creature in tow. He wobbled as he balanced it. The animal was almost as long as he was tall, but his strength didn’t falter under the weight. It’s not like it was hard to carry. He was a hunter, after all.

“Maman!” he called out. The scent of butter and flour and sugar combined hit him and he took off towards the kitchen, following the sound of the mixer. No wonder she hadn’t heard him. Didn’t matter, he’d go to her, bursting into the kitchen with his new pet in hand.

“Maman, can I keep it? Can I, can I?” His excitement was bubbling over as he set the animal down, petting its odd hairless flaps of skin. It was a weird looking dog, but Kaden loved his new pet already. She had to let him keep it, right? This was already the best day ever, he was going to have his very own dog and Maman was baking for what felt like the first time in months now. Maybe he’d get to help after he helped the animal. “Look at him. I found him in the woods and and and he was crying so he’s probably hungry and we should give him water. Where’s the bowl? And look, did you look? Maman, did you see how cute he is? He’s weird looking but I think he just needs a bath. And I think he’s cold, do we have another blanke--”

A horrified screech cut off his excited babbling and the hand mixer crashed on the floor, batter flying as the metal whirred against the hardwood floor for a few seconds. “Kaden Arthur Langley! What are you doing?” She reached out and tore him by the arm away from the creature.

“What? What did I do? What?” His lip started quivering and he quickly bit on it to stop it. He knew he wasn’t allowed to cry. He couldn’t stop the tears pricking at his eyes though. But he didn’t understand why he was in trouble. “I-- I-- I know you said no pets but I found him and--”

“No!” she shouted back, gripping his wrist tighter and holding him in place. “How dare you bring a supernatural vermin into my house. What were you thinking dragging this filth in here? And don’t you dare cry. You should know better.”

If he bit his lip until it bled, maybe he could stop the tears. He had to. She didn’t like it when he cried. But he didn’t understand. “But-- but it’s a dog. I thought it was a dog. What do you mean s-supernatural I-- I--” He just wanted a pet. It wasn’t filth. What made it filth? He didn’t understand, it had practically snuggled into his arms while he carried it home. There was no way it could be supernatural. That would make it evil. That would mean-- It couldn’t be supernatural. It just couldn’t.

“That’s not a dog, Kaden. That’s a squonk. A squonk. How is it you can’t recognize a single squonk? Have we taught you nothing? You’re a hunter. A Langley. You know better than this.” He could feel the bruises burrowing into his skin around his wrist. He concentrated on the pain, hoping he could wait to sniffle when she wasn’t looking. But he couldn't hold it back and the fire in his mother’s eyes burned even brighter.

"What's happening?" a small voice said from the doorway to the kitchen. Kaden and his mother both turned to look at his sister standing there, holding her blankie, clearly curious about all the commotion.

He didn't think his mother could become even more enraged, but she'd found a way. He could tell even though he could no longer see her face. The way she let go of his wrist, practically throwing him to the floor, was enough. "Keira, mon chou, go back to the living room and keep playing, alright?" Her voice had changed demeanor so quickly it could give Kaden whiplash. For as much fire as he'd heard moments ago, there was just as much sweetness directed at his sister.

"Why is Kadey on the floor? Is he in trouble?" she asked, trying to sneak a little closer into the kitchen to get a peek. "And what is that?" She pointed to the squonk lying there on the laminate floor.

Horror washed over his mother's face and Kaden knew that his punishment was only going to get worse now that his sister had seen his mistake. "It's nothing, mon chou, shh, go on and play, maman will be right back," she said, ushering the little girl back out of the room, shutting the door closed as soon as the child was clear of it, separating the siblings once more.

Any kindness that had been offered to his sister was wiped clean, burned away as she turned to face him again. “Get up,” she told him, voice even and stern as she spun to face away from him again. Kaden quickly wiped his eyes and nose with the back of his hand before he scrambled to stand. His eyes darted to Wrinkles. He couldn’t be supernatural. All he wanted to do was hug the creature and go hide. Maybe he could just run away with his pet and go live in the woods. He could survive a real long time. Maman and Papa made sure he could.

Before he could contemplate running, his mother turned back to face him, something in her hand, “Come with me. Bring that vermin with you.” She walked away, out the door to the backyard. There was no question what he was meant to do. Kaden pet the animal, apparently a squonk, and motioned for it to follow him outside. It was still crying but it waddled along after the child. Wrinkles didn’t look like vermin. Maybe Maman was wrong and she was just going to show him where the dog would live.

“Here,” she said, pointing to a spot where he supposed he was meant to stand with the animal. Kaden obeyed and waited, looking up at her. She held a knife out to him. He waited a moment, hoping he wasn’t meant to take it. But there was no question and no argument from him. He tried to hold the knife steady, unwavering, but no matter how hard he tried, his hand shook. He tried to hide it, he didn't want to get yelled at again. “Kill it.”

That was all she said.

Kaden looked up at her, eyes wide with terror and confusion. “But--”

“I said kill it, Kaden. Now.” Her tone was harsh, her arms crossed in front of her chest, face set in stone. “And no crying about it.”

He tried. He really tried to hold it in. But the tears burst through the second he looked at his new pet. “I can’t. Maman I ca--”

She stomped her foot and made it clear there was no room for questioning her. “You can. And you will. You’re a hunter. That’s a monster. Hunters kill monsters. Now use that knife and kill it.”

His hand shook as he tried to raise it up. All he had to do was bring it down, plunge it into the creature’s head. Wrinkles was just standing there, still crying. Kaden couldn’t tell who was crying more, his dog or him. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t-- He just had to bring the knife down. Just bring it--

The knife fell out of his hands and Kaden collapsed to the ground, wrapping his arms around the creature’s neck, sobbing into the folds of its skin, repeating the word no over and over again. He wasn’t there long, almost as soon as he had, a hand gripped his shoulder and yanked him backwards, away from the animal. “That is not a dog! Stop that!” He’d heard his mother's anger many times in training, but it was nothing like this. This was something else. Worse. For a moment, Kaden wondered if her anger was going to spill over, and he shut his eyes, bracing himself. Instead of pain, her hands gripped him again, picking him up off the ground and wrapping her hand around his and the hilt of the knife.

“You have to. Kaden, you have to.” Her voice had softened as she crouched over him. “This is what we do. This is how we help people. Make sure the supernatural doesn’t destroy us.”

“Are you sure,” he sniffed, “are you sure that it’s evil? It looks like a dog. I thought it was a dog. I just wanted to…” His words fell away into tears.

“That’s not a dog. I know it--” She paused, like there was something she couldn’t bring herself to say. “It’s not. I can assure you that it’s evil. I wouldn’t ask you to kill it if it weren’t, mon peititou.”

Kaden wiped his eyes again with his free hand. “You wouldn’t?” His hand was still shaking, even while it was held in hers. He tried to keep his tears at bay, but they wouldn’t stop spilling. “You wouldn’t ask me to kill an animal? You promise?”

Claire Langley’s lips pursed as she contemplated what to say next. Her son was more softhearted than she wished. Sometimes it made training easier. He always cared about helping others, so assuring him that he was learning how to be a hero was the easiest way to get him to cooperate. But in moments like these, it made it all so much harder.

She had planned to move him from stationary targets to small animals soon. It was the easiest way to learn how to hit a moving target. And it was much safer than practicing against most monsters. But she saw the way he looked at even the ugliest animals, the way he looked at this monster now like it was some kind, innocent creature, capable of love or companionship.

She knew better. And she needed her son to know better, too. If his sister saw any of this, if she got the same ideas... She couldn't handle training two softhearted children. One was enough trouble. She had to be sure her would do their family proud and carry on their legacy. It might mean making some compromises. For now, at least. He was young, maybe he would grow out of it. For now, she’d do what she had to. “I promise. I promise I’d never ask you to kill an animal. But this is a monster. And what do we do?”

Kaden gulped down the lump in his throat, sniffed back his tears. “We kill monsters.” Her hand fell away from his, knife still held tight in his grip. The knife glinted as he held it, no longer shaking, above the creature. In one swift motion, he plunged it into Wrinkles’ skull. No, not Wrinkles. A monster. Just a monster.

#writing #wickedswriting #para #solo #tough love #flashback #yes this is recycled from 1.0 but i made some edits #blame casey she mentioned squonks

[cilly-the-writer]

SHADOWS OF SORCERY | Part 17 | “Shadow of Thread” | 1,642 words

Suggested music listening for the vibes: Darkside by Neoni because Elora has entered her villain era and she’s using her mind control ability

      News of Kaden Brush's near death experience—and his stolen magic core—swept through the school quickly. It was one of the biggest threats a sorcerer could imagine. Having their magic taken from them. The vulnerability was frightening.

     Somehow, the Regents Academy of Magic managed to convince the Power Authority to give him a spare magic core—taken from someone undeserving of magic. It was rare for them to redistribute magic.

     Usually, they just destroyed it. 

     A one-time exception was made. Perhaps to maintain the school's reputation and reduce hysteria. It was an immense grace. But Kaden Brush wasn't exactly immensely grateful.

     "This is so dumb…" Kaden said under his breath, while he stood in one of the school’s magic practice rooms. He breathed in and out before he waved and a purple light flashed through the air like a child had waved a sparkler.

     It wasn't supposed to be so static.

"Why couldn't they at least give me developer magic? Why do I have to start all over?"

     Suddenly, a knock came at the door and Kaden stopped in place.

"This room's taken!" Kaden yelled. But that didn't stop the knocker from entering.

     Elora Spade stepped into the training room with her firelights, Imogene following beside her.

     "We heard you're a caster now." Elora said. "We thought you could use some help training."

     Kaden made a face.

     "I don't need your help."

     "Well, do you think you can help me?" Imogene asked. "I don't really know how to use my casting magic…"

     Kaden blinked. What the hell? Is she stupid? I just got my magic. She should know how to use hers.

     Imogene refrained from letting her friendly smile crack too much… Some people's thoughts were certainly harder to read than others. Imogene simply moved her hand and demonstrated what she meant—her purple light sparking up in static just like his.

     "Fine."

     Elora closed the door and then moved in toward Kaden.

     "Well, I'm pretty good at casting," Elora set her hands on his shoulder as she began to position his arm for him, despite the reluctance on his face. "The key is just finding the right flow to control it.”

     But her touch sparked something in Kaden's eyes and he jumped back. His memories had all come rushing back to him: targeting Elora on the bike path outside of school grounds and being mind controlled after he scared off her firelights. 

     "You're—!"

     "Yes." Elora said, gesturing to control his movement so he couldn't escape. "And you're going to tell me everything you know about the person who sent you."

     Kaden tensed at the way his body froze in place. He couldn't move.

     "I swear—I don't know who he is—." Kaden said.

     "What did he ask you to do?"

     "Just—just to get you. He said he wanted rare and exceptional abilities. He had a list of people… but he wanted you the most."

     "Who else was on the list?"

     "I don't know… but he told me not to bother Charlotte Gallison."

      Elora traded uneasy looks with Imogene. Then Elora proceeded to cast her energy magic around Kaden, seizing him in pain. Her firelights even flew back to hide behind Elora.

     "Where is he keeping all the magic cores?"

     "I don't know!" Kaden cried out in pain. "He showed me the room, but it was like a pocket dimension or something. He only let Devin know how to get in. Not me."

     "Where did you meet him before that?"

     "He always met me at the edge of campus, by the school nature trail." 

     "Well, maybe you can lure him out there for me. So I can take care of this once and for all."

     "No! Please, he'll kill me!"

     Elora fell silent as she released him from her mind control. He dropped to his hands and knees and coughed as he caught his breath.

     Imogene sensed his fear and regret while Elora's silence lingered. She glanced over at Elora with a sorry look in her eyes, not wanting to lure him to his potential death. Even if he had tried killing Elora. It just felt too cruel…

     Elora exhaled.

     "Well then, what about Devin? Where did he go?"

     Kaden lowered his brows at her condescending tone.

     "I don't know. He didn't tell me anything. All I know is that the extractor guy gave him a new magic core.”

     “Hmm.” Elora shifted her weight onto one leg and mulled it over. The magic cores had to be coming from somewhere. “Alright.” She stepped toward Kaden and he sprang backwards.

     “Wait—what are you—.”

    But she controlled him before he got any further away. 

    “You’re a loose thread. You’re going to forget this conversation.” She set her hands on the sides of his head and looked coldly into his panicked eyes. “And you won’t do anything to help the extractor anymore.”

     Elora let go and fell back, watching as Kaden shut his eyes and instinctively held his head at the surge of numbness and pain. She had messed with his head. The effects were still settling into place. It wasn’t just instant. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes in a dazed state.

     “What just happened?”

     “Are you okay?” Elora asked. “You just took a hit to the head. You said you could block it.” 

     Kaden rubbed his head, not remembering anything after Elora had begun to give him pointers.

    “Yeah, I guess…” 

     Imogene’s brows fell as guilt sank in.

     “Why don’t you try to hit me instead?” Imogene said. Suddenly forming a very small energy field in front of herself.

     Kaden sighed and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He positioned himself to wave an energy blast at her. He had the right spirit in the whisk of his hand, but the blast separated into static energy clouds that thinned and dissipated before they even reached her energy field. He was still thinking like it was developer magic. Like objects to be conjured.

     Elora realized exactly what Imogene was doing. They were supposed to leave after she interrogated him, but Imogene didn’t want to leave him defenseless. Elora exhaled.

    “Casting magic is fluid. Think of it like water.” Elora did a demonstration and pushed and pulled a blob of purple light around in the air in front of them. Her firelights hovered excitedly in awe as they gleaned a look.

     Kaden didn’t say anything. He simply looked down at his hands and tried to form something similar, on a much smaller scale. It came out more fluid this time. But not perfect. He concentrated on it, and the longer he did, the more it deteriorated.

     This was going to take a while.

     They practiced well into the morning, past noon. 

     Imogene even invited him to grab a bite to eat with them later on, but he declined. The two girls left from there and headed to the campus library, where they checked into a study room. Elora walked right up to a podium with a purple tinted glass pane covering the top and set her palm over it, a magic seal lighting up across it.

     “Articles about magic cases near Region: Redwood Sparrow Rivers.”

     In a moment, a newspaper lit up and appeared under the glass. Elora glossed it over and pressed her palm to the glass again. A flashy purple light replaced it with a different newspaper. She kept pressing her hand to the glass to reveal the next one in the library’s records.

     “So you do remember Kaden tried to kill me, right?” Elora glanced back at Imogene before she resumed browsing.

   �� “I know…” Imogene said guiltily. “But when I read his thoughts… he didn’t understand why he felt so much… I don’t know… apathy for you before? Don’t get me wrong. His thoughts are very… apathetic. And they threatened to take his magic. So there’s that. But what if they have an emotion influencing ability and they used it on him?”

     Elora made a squinting face, deep in thought.

    “Maybe. But influencing abilities just change your mood. They don’t make you do things you’d never do. Like kill people.”

     “You’re right…” Imogene said. “But…”

     Elora sighed.

     “But what?”

     “He just wanted a materialization ability.” Imogene’s voice got sad.

     “That’s literally the most common dreamer magic there is… He could have at least tried to kill me for something cool like teleporting. That’s so stupid.”

     Imogene fell silent. She stood behind the room's study table and waved her hand over a single spot, conjuring a glass of orange juice alongside a sandwich on a plate. She raised the glass and before she took a sip, she said:

     “Is it?” she raised a brow.

     “Oh.”

     “Anyway, he thought it would change his family’s life. They’re all realists. They don’t have any dreamer magic.”

     “What do you want me to do? Adopt him?” 

     “No, of course not,” Imogene said. “But do you think you can mind control him one more time?” 

     Elora raised her brow this time. But before Imogene could elaborate, Elora stopped and stared at the newspaper that came up next. She pressed her hand over the glass and the glass vanished for her to take it. 

     “Hey… I think these people used to work for Jaelin’s grandfather.”

     Elora held the paper out for Imogene to see. It was titled: EMPLOYEES OF CORE MAGIC SYSTEMS SENT POISON CORES. 

     They took it down to Jaelin's room and knocked at the door, waiting for him to respond. He opened the door, saw who it was, and cut them both off; rattling off a question:

      “Hey—are you starting to think that the person who took Kaden's magic might be the same person we’re looking for? Because I am.” Jaelin stepped aside, revealing all the newspaper articles that covered the corkboard now. They were all about missing sorcerers and missing magic cores.

     Jaelin had certainly been busy.

Next >>

#wip: SoS #writeblr #so the city naming system has finally made an appearence! #Region: Redwood Sparrow Rivers indicates some of the city's predominant features #so there can be places like Maple Cardinal Hills #etc.

[soc-characters-as-songs]

Favorite part of the interviews and a song for all?

ivy: "*he keeps a small polite smile, silently gesturing to the refreshments available as he asks* how have you been finding angeles and the palace, ivy?

*/king doof-ael,/ the title her friend alba had dubbed him with, though she couldn't possibly off that as another name. even if it was interesting, it's only when raphael sits that she notices one of the imposing figures standing a ways behind him. /the divergent man/. seven. he was here? now???"

alaska ("and I walked off an old me/oh me, oh my I thought it was a dream/so it seemed/and now breathe deep, I'm inhaling/you and I, there's air in-between/leave me be, I'm exhaling/you and I, there's air in-between")

meredith: "*he keeps a smile at her* I believe I do prefer celebrations inside, though, knowing how hot it can get in the afternoon here in angeles.

*she feels a bit insensitive when he answers because it's such a huge "duh" moment and she kind of just didn't think about it before she made the comment about all the parties. but she can just add it to her mounting list of little mistakes. she grimaces and nods, murmuring* right, sorry, of course. *she shifts again, reminding herself that she needs to focus more* it's um... colder in northern angeles too. at least where I grew up *she breathes in a sigh because somehow she's turned this into a conversation about the weather, which she feels like is what you do when you're stuck in a waiting room with a stranger and even if that's what the interviews could be likened to she was hoping it wouldn't be like that. she squirms a bit more and honestly a bit of desperation is setting in and meredith unclasps her purse, finally looking down so she can see what she's doing. she hesitates a moment, then reaches a hand inside and pulls out an assorted bag of gummy bears, which she pilfered from the pantry the night before. she quickly closes the purse again, then her hands go to the bag as she opens it, the bag makes that loud plastic crinkly sound. meredith finally looks up at him again and gives him a weak smile, holding up the bag between them, with the opening facing his way* would you like some? *her eyes dart to sam and the cameras, then back to him* it has all the flavors, I think"

good as it gets ("just leave it up to me, to be sad in paradise/I got a good heart but f*ck it for the art/had a good life, I could never really see that/got so bad, lookin' for love in the trash/if I had it, I wouldn't know how to keep it/well, maybe i'm a mess/and maybe I'm depressed/and maybe I'll just find out who I am and I won't like who it is/and I'm a wreck"

diana: "*he shakes his head at her question, not dismissive at all but offering only this* I'm not the cooking or baking type. reading, you could say, is a hobby of mine - basic as it sounds. *he knows it's probably not enough as an answers so he also adds this* podcasts are a good alternative too if I'm moving around on vehicles *he leans back, putting his elbow on his arm rest as he thinks about the baking thing but wanting to confirm his guess he asks* if you don't mind me going back to the cupcakes, were they in celebration of something?

*she shakes her head when he calls his hobby basic* it's not basic at all. I love reading, honestly, it's a luxury to be able to pick up a book on any topic and learn about something new */especially when you never got a formal education past high school/. she thinks it but doesn't say it out loud*"

blind ("but you're a little like me, same type/cancels every date night/stays home, never leaves/just can't find the energy/I stay pretty numb/never fell for anyone/you seem similar/always end up getting hurt/I haven't felt a thing this year/and I'm only tryna be sincere")

dahlia: *elevator music*

alassie: "*he shakes his head at her question, unsure also of how she's approaching this either but he lifts a shoulder up* not exactly, since it was accidentally spilled on me. it's a shame, however, that I don't have the time to change until a few interviews after this. *he waits for her to take a seat properly, gesturing to the seat again* I do ask for your patience to look beyond that for the next five minutes of your time.

*she raises her eyebrows at his gestures, and settles a little more in her current position by crossing her legs. all his fuss over his jacket makes her want to roll her eyes, and she says sarcastically* I'm not sure I can. *she looks towards the camera crew, sounding more polite as she addresses them* can anyone bring us gin? and a dry cloth?"

entertainer ("you thought you had me, didn't you?/when you lied to my face, I could see the truth/every step of the way I knew/how you fooled me, boo/guess you didn’t know that/you were my favorite entertainer/I'd watch you, I'd laugh, I would fuck with you/don’t you take me for a fool/in this game, I own the rules")

ramona: "*he presses his lips together at her last statement, a wry smile on his lips* nothing that the palace laundry couldn't handle. though, it was my lucky shity that got stained.

*she quickly gives him a more sympathetic smile, replying in an almost joking tone* I hope that wasn't an omen for the rest of the day"

meet me at our spot ("i'm not getting younger/but when I'm older/I'll be so much stronger/I'll stay up for longer/meet me at our spot/caught a vibe/baby, are you coming for the ride?/I just wanna look into your eyes/I just wanna stay for the night, night, night")

rhea: "maybe you'll get to work into developing the shows themselves in the artistic team side now *he tilts his head* I'm sorry that you don't get to perform anymore.

*she waves the apology off* developing shows looks like fun - you get some more creativity. *this is what she had rehearsed for. random fact, something near embarrassing, to make her memorable - not something her mother ever said, but something guy of all people had suggested. she leans in with a sly smile* this sounds incredibly nerdy, but I- well, someone I know back home and I- started work on this musical about aliens"

honey ("'cause I'm a beautiful wreck/a colorful mess, but I'm funny/oh, I'm a heartbreak vet/with a stone-cold neck, yeah, I'm charmin'/all the pretty girls in the world/but I'm in this space with you/colored out the lines/I came to find, my fire was fate with you")

cornelia: "I still think invitations are a nice touch, if not the tiny umbrellas stuck on the cherries of the black forest cake. *he bobs his head at the mention of her friends, curious about them* did your friends get to send you off the other day?

*she chuckles because of his words* the tiny umbrellas /are/ a great detail. I didn't know those were something I needed in my life."

like real people do ("I knew that look dear/eyes always seeking/was there in someone/that dug long ago/so I will not ask you/why you were creeping/in some sad way I already know/I will not ask you where you came from/I will not ask you and neither would you")

kaden: "*he thanks her for the coffee, holding it with both of his hands for a bit to let it cool* my previous shirt and jacket have seen better days, and this is a new set of saucers and cups but thankfully not many other casualties *he shakes his head, lifting his mug up* I'd prefer to be drinking coffee or wine rather than have it accidentally on my shirt.

*she finishes to serve her own cup* a thrilling morning you're describing. *she looks up from under her lashes, still amused apparently* perhaps getting rid of the small talk would be for the best."

slow burn ("born in a hurry, always late/haven't been early since '88/texas is hot, I can be cold/grandma cried when I pierced my nose/good in a glass, good on green/good when you're puttin' your hands all over me/I'm alright with a slow burn/takin' my time, let the world turn/I'm gonna do it my way, it'll be alright")

andreia: "*should she look closely, there are coffee stains on the place setting of the coffee table while raffy is in a different shirt and jacket thanks to the wine incident earlier. around them, there are still cameras going off around them, documentation crew really going at it. still, raffy's standing tall with his hands clasped in front of him as she approaches, only offering her his hand when she's close enough to him so he can guide her to her seat. he tries to give her a small smile despite being tired* lady andreia, thank you so much for waiting. my name is raphael, it's a pleasure to meet you.

*being outside all day, with the sun being bright, has not been /ideal/ for andreia, but she's trying her best to ignore the budding headache. she takes his hand when she reaches him, but keeps her other hand in her pocket for the time being, and gives him a small smile in return* just andreia is fine. it's nice to meet you. *once the handshake is done, she takes the other hand out of her pocket, and smiles a little sheepishly before explaining* in iberia, it's rude to show up to someone's house without a gift to give the host *she holds out her hand and in it is a small origami corgi* I know it's not much, but... *she shrugs a little, still with the same sheepish smile*"

valerie ("well, sometimes I go out by myself/and I look across the water/snd I think of all the things of what you're doing/in my head I paint a picture/since I've come home/well, my body's been a mess/and I miss your ginger hair/and the way you like to dress/oh, won't you come on over?/stop making a fool out of me/why don't you come on over, valerie?")

arely: ??????????????

suzy: "*he waits for her to take a seat before taking his own, making a gesture for plato to follow like the besets boy he is and he stays by raffy's feet* he gets mad when he feels underdressed for an event. *he nods at her response to the food, understanding of her wanting to save space for dinner, but is very pleased to hear that she likes the food. he glances at the table, looking for his recommendation and gestures to a green tea bag* I believe some hot green tea would be nice before dinner. cleanses the palate too. *he tilts his head* any favorites from the selection of food earlier?

*she raises her eyebrows, surprised since she tried to dress up bom several times but she ultimately hated being dressed, even if it's a simple bow. she turns her attention to plato and looks down at him* a true gentlepup I see"

505 ("not shy of a spark/the knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark/frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark/the middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start")

#the selected

[humanmoodring-retired]

Season’s Yeetings Pt. 2 || Blanche, Connor, Cordelia, Nadia, Regan, and Kaden

TIMING: Present  PARTIES: @harlowhaunted @connorspiracy @humanmoodring @kadavernagh @chasseurdeloup  SUMMARY: Another exorcism. The stakes are higher, and Nadia’s life hangs in the balance. feat Mav the Exorcist CONTENT: Self harm, suicide attempt (possession-driven)

Nadia had stabbed herself. She’d stabbed herself, and all she could really do was look down at her hands wrapped around the knife’s handle. She blinked, shock setting in faster than pain. She didn’t even feel it, really. Really. She looked up, trying to see Regan or Blanche or Connor or even Mav, but the only person she could focus on was the woman in the circle with her. Had she always been this blurry. No wonder she thought the red headed figure looked like Brooke an embarrassing number of times. This was Cordelia Gregory, and she was cruel, and she’d made Nadia stab herself. She’d stabbed herself. It was startling to her, just a little. She’d never expected Cordelia to make her stab herself. She’d never taken the threats Cordelia had made to others about killing Nadia seriously. She wasn’t worried about herself. She was worried about her friends, people that Cordelia had proven time and time again that she had no problem in hurting. She actually seemed to take a great deal of pleasure from it.

“Move your foot against the chalk line and let me out of the fucking circle,” Cordelia whispered in Nadia’s ear, attempting to put her hand on Nadia’s face (her face it was still hers, goddammit). “Let me out of the fucking circle, and you might live. Right? You might live. We’ll both live! We’ll-- I’ll leave you alone, just let me out!” The last word was a shriek, causing the power to go out in the apartment complex. All this stupid girl had to do was let her out.

“No.” Nadia wasn’t a fool. Not anymore. She wasn’t letting this woman, this bitch that had tormented her for years out just so that she could go after someone else. Nadia Diaz was going to be Cordelia Gregory’s last victim, for better or for worse. Cordelia’s rage, something that she was intimately familiar with, was incredible to see as the face in front of her contorted with it. Nadia grinned back at the poltergeist, a savage sort that wasn’t an expression she normally made but, fuck, it felt good. For just a second, she allowed herself to hate Cordelia, to be glad that she was taking her down. This had been years in the making. She watched Cordelia reach down and grab Nadia’s hands, and she felt herself drag the knife up and out, her hands throwing the knife out of the circle. Nadia couldn’t help the sound that came out of her mouth. Fuck. That-- That wasn’t supposed to happen, right? Things weren’t supposed to be removed like that. Nadia fell to her knees, her hands moving to try and replace the knife with pressure. “Hurr--” She swallowed the word. Hurry. They needed to hurry.

Regan knew enough medical terminology and jargon to immediately recognize the Latin chanting. The book she had borrowed from Blanche mentioned this would likely happen -- apparently, situations like this called for Latin or other ancient languages, though she didn’t completely understand what the purpose of it was. It didn’t matter at this point. Dissecting everything that happened and was happening and would happen wasn’t going to do Nadia any favors, and this was about Nadia, not her own need for logic and sense. She pulled away as Blanche inched in closer to her, not willing to stand within whispering distance. “Yes?” She said impatiently, not taking her eyes off of Nadia, “Good. He had better know what he’s doing. Kaden said he found the best. Failure is not an option.” If Blanche was trying to communicate something else to her, she wasn’t receptive to hearing it.

Regan pushed herself closer to the central circle as Nadia’s trembling grew more fierce, worse than the most frightened patients she had ever encountered in the ER. But it wasn’t just fear. Something was happening to her. Inside of her. Pinpricks of sweat glistened on her skin and the sputtering of nerves shook her body even harder like she was being wrenched in half. Nadia’s face twisted and tore in several directions, her hand slowly drifting behind her, and-- a scream. Nadia’s. The lights flickered, off more than on, but Regan kept her eyes pinned to her friend. Was there a way to help? Any way? She knew she was instructed to just wait, to be there as moral support and in the event of an emergency, but how was she supposed to know the point of intervention? The blood drained from Nadia’s face, her lips skinned back in pain, and as the lights flicked on once more, she caught the glint of a knife near Nadia’s throat.

“Stop!” Regan screamed back, barreling toward the circle, stopping short just at its precipice. The lights shattered, flickering no more. She knew Blanche was probably behind her, trying to stop her, but her singular focus was on Nadia and getting that knife out of her hands. “Put it down! Now! You’re going to--” But it was too late. Nadia’s hand moved in one fluid motion, knife traveling from her neck, into her gut. Her eyes took in every movement of the knife, the way it sliced and the twist of Nadia’s wrist, how deep it went, the way the hilt pressed right up against her shirt. Everything was blurred and chaotic, moving simultaneously too fast and too slow. For a second, life stilled as Regan’s insides crushed with grief that she couldn’t reach Nadia in time. Her friend looked up to her, no longer shaking, an eerie calmness on her face, her eyes swollen and sad. Blood soaked into her shirt, spreading through fabric like a drop of ink in water, more pulsing out with each beat of her heart. Regan could see Nadia’s breathing, slow and harsh, growing weaker by the second. Too slow. Too harsh. Too weak.

And next to Nadia was the redhead. The same one Regan had met in this very apartment months ago, and the same one that had treated Nadia’s body like some horrible puppet and plaything ever since. This was the person who nearly murdered Kaden and herself, and who had committed countless crimes to countless others. And now, she wanted to murder Nadia. There was so much Regan wanted to say to Cordelia and say to Nadia right now, but she could only move and act. Regan bolted to break the circle, not wasting a second as Nadia collapsed. There was no time to talk. She was a doctor. That was part of why she was here. It was time to be a doctor. Her lungs tightened, something dark lurking inside of them -- a scream for Nadia that she was on the very edge of sounding. She needed to help her, to staunch the blood before all of it spilled across the floor, her life with it.

Blanche wished she hadn’t spoken at all. She realized the error she had made instantly. Cordelia wasn’t above taking Nadia down with her. If she couldn’t have her body, no one could. Blanche’s gaze was glued to the knife as she watched it plunge into Nadia’s gut. Her own stomach seized, remembering the long knife that had gone into her own skin. Instinctively, she took a step forward, as if to go help, when she remembered one of the most important things she read about exorcisms. The circle can’t be broken. Blanche froze on the spot, her eyes snapping to Regan. “Regan, don’t!” Blanche cried. Cordelia would be free to leave and free to torment Nadia or some other unsuspecting victim another day. She acted quickly. With a fluid motion she dropped the shotgun and was stepping forward. A familiar pain seared across Blanche’s forehead, her mind protesting the use of her power. She didn’t care, though. Her energy reached Regan, ranking her back harshly away from the exorcism. Blanche backed up, looking over her shoulder towards the door.

“K-Kaden!” Blanche screamed, “We need you!! Now! Please!” Her voice cracked slightly with the panic, her head splitting from the sudden force of energy and from Regan’s screeching. No sooner did the hunter appear in the doorway, did Blanche throw Regan at him. She tried to be lighter this time, but she didn’t think she did a very good job - it was powered with adrenaline and she had never had to throw a friend on purpose before. She could apologize later, though. “Keep her there so she doesn’t break the circle!” Blanche ordered shakily. She rushed forward to the edge of the circle now, on the other side of Mav, her gaze trained on Cordelia. “I’m sure this doesn’t need to be said,” Blanche said to Connor, though her eyes never left Cordelia’s form. A seething hatred erupted in her, and wasn’t able to bury it away this time. Thoughts of empathy were replaced with raw fury, and in this moment, Blanche was going to enjoy her existence being eradicated. Later, maybe not. But now? She was pissed. “We need to get a move on before Nadia bleeds out. Let’s go.”

Waiting outside the door was awful. Kaden tried to play out what he thought was happening behind him as he waited. It would be fine. Mav knew what he was doing. Nadia would be fine. Then there was screeching and the sound of glass shattering. Banshee screeches, no mistaking them. It was probably just Regan seeing something supernatural. It would be fine. This was going to be fine. But it didn’t stop. And he heard Blanche screaming, too; screaming his name. Fuck.

Kaden turned and burst through the door. Before Blanche could explain, he saw exactly what was happening. Regan was heading towards Nadia. She was going to break the circle. No. This wasn’t-- He darted towards her, glass crunching beneath his feet as he rounded the circle. He practically threw himself at Regan, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back. With her held tight, he saw it. He finally saw it. The reason why Regan was willing to risk the entire exorcism. He saw the knife in Nadia’s side. The pool of blood on the floor around her. “No.” This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t what was supposed to-- “No!” he shouted, not sure who it was even directed to anymore. His grip nearly loosened and he considered running towards her himself. “We can’t. We can’t. Regan, we have to wait. She won’t--” She wouldn’t die. She couldn’t. Regan hadn’t screamed. If there was anyone Regan would fucking scream for, it was Nadia.

But it struck him that there was still time, she could still unleash a death scream right here, right now in this room. And even if she knew how to hold it back by now, Kaden was sure she wouldn’t be able to. Not for Nadia. And he would be here with his arms around her while she screamed. Just long enough for his lungs to explode and his heart to burst. Any sane person would let go. He gripped her tighter, kept her away from the circle. Nadia wasn’t dying. Not today. He was sure of it. He had to be sure of it. He had to hold onto that hope, even if it was stupid and foolish. One thing in this fucking town had to go right for once. “Nadia. Hold on. You have to-- Regan, tell her what to do from here.” He didn’t need to tell Mav to hurry it the fuck up. He was sure the exorcist could figure out that this was a dire situation. And the last thing they needed to do was break his concentration.

It wasn't the glass that made Mav flinch, you didn't work as long as he had in the exorcism business without getting used to picking a few stray pieces of broken lightbulbs from your mustache every now and again. No, it was that scream. It was a hell of a sound. He wondered if having this here banshee with them was a good idea. Lucky for them, his removal ritual wasn't necessary no more so the interruption wasn't a complete disaster. Thankfully, he didn't need to tell anyone not to let the banshee cross the circle, the tiny medium made sure of that. He was real glad she was tougher than she looked and more than worth her salt. The last thing they needed was to risk this poltergeist getting out of the dang circle. He was already going to struggle to destroy her spirit for good, they didn’t need any more complications, considering this whole exorcism was going tits up darn fast.

Ms Diaz had returned to her body and he felt the poltergeist leave that very same body before he’d even finished his ritual. Mav reckoned that was on account of the stabbing she did to the body. He figured they didn’t have a whole lot more time to work. He was going to need every last bit of energy he could find to make this go in their favor. As soon as he’d finished his phrase, he shifted as seamlessly as he could manage into the second half of his plan. The chain of energy he was channeling stopped pulling on the spirit and started to wrap around the poltergeist. He was going to use it to constrict her, pull tighter and tighter until there was nothing left, like a lasso tugged too tight or a snake squeezing the life out of its prey. He hoped the young exorcist beside him could keep up, but he seemed like he was quick as a whip and there was no room for doubt. Not when Ms Diaz’s life hung in the balance. He gripped the young man’s shoulder as objects started to fly around the room. This spirit was mad as a mule chewing bumblebees and he was going to need all the help he could muster to pool this energy and rid the world of this poltergeist.

The whole situation was chaos. As soon as Connor managed to react to one thing, the next impending disaster reared its ugly head. He wanted to scream for Nadia, to yell at that horrible fucking poltergeist to get the hell away from her, but it was too late. Knife had ripped flesh, and she was bleeding. He'd seen on TV that stomach wounds were a slow and painful way to die. They had time, but not much of it. He increased his chanting, urgent and desperate. His eyes met Blanche with desperation as she took care of whatever that screaming woman was (definitely not a moose).

Connor saw it all happening, but he couldn't focus on it. He had to drown it all out. The only thing that mattered right now was Nadia, and saving her meant sending this fucking arsehole poltergeist to hell. He squeezed Mav's wrist, letting the energy flow through them more easily, and he looked to Blanche, communicating with her with only his eyes and the extension of his other hand. He couldn't stop the ritual. He couldn't stop chanting, but he needed Blanche to take his arm too. The hunter and the other woman were more difficult, but Connor knew that he and Mav needed all the energy they could get. Cordelia was strong, determined, and a real fucking bitch. Word after word after word, he focused everything he had on her, his focal point beginning to burn hot beneath his fingertips as he used it as a conduit.

She was getting weaker. Connor could feel it. He looked at Mav again, the two of them speaking wordlessly. They were close. But that would only make Cordelia more desperate. He was almost screaming the ritual at her now, every atom in his body telling her to get the fuck out.

“Hey!” Cordelia screamed over the madness, the breaking glass and flying objects, looking straight at the banshee as she was only just being restrained by Kadie. “If you break this circle, you can save her! She might have a chance! But if you let these fuckers do their bullshit, she will go down with me.” She felt her form flickering as the exorcism took hold. This wasn’t like the last time. Hell, it wasn’t even like the first time, when she’d found herself thrown from Nadia’s body for who even knew how long, existing only in the ether as she’d reformed herself to try again. This hurt. This made her put her hands over her ears and scream. She lashed out and sent some little statue that had been on the coffee table flying, shattering it against a wall. “Let me out or I’ll fucking kill her! Let me out or I’ll fucking kill her!” She tried to pull the knife back into the circle but only succeeded in sticking it into a wall. Fuck. Fuck.

Just keep pressure on it. Just keep pressure on it. Nadia kept repeating the words to herself even as the chanting and screaming got louder. She just needed to hold on until Cordelia was dealt with, and then whatever happened would happen. Just keep putting pressure on it. However, Cordelia begging Regan to break the circle forced her to look up, panicked. No. If anyone might break it, it would be Regan. She didn’t understand what was at stake. Regan couldn’t possibly understand that getting rid of Cordelia was the only important thing in this whole situation. And Nadia couldn’t blame her, she’d probably be losing her shit if one of her friends was hurt, but this was bigger than her. She was one person. Cordelia could ruin countless lives; she probably already had. She needed to go. “I’m fine,” she choked out, locking eyes with Kaden over Regan’s shoulder. Don’t let her go. “I’m not going to die, yet.” And she fucking wasn’t. Not until this bitch was dealt with.

Regan wasn’t sure what happened -- it was all a confusing blur. She had surged toward Nadia, scream rattling in her chest, but in only a split second, she was yanked in the other direction, air forced from her lungs in a loud screech. Blanche was shouting something; she heard Kaden’s name, but her thoughts were only on Nadia as she watched her friend’s blood continue to pool as she grew paler and trembled and struggled to keep herself upright. The door was thrown open and she felt something wrap tightly around her, pulling her like gravity just as the invisible vice around her dissipated. Another scream jumped out of her, but as she realized it was arms encircling her, she choked everything back. Who-- Kaden. It was Kaden. The noise thundered like a storm in her chest, but she kept it locked in, holding it inside of her lungs like the casket’s dark water, even as it demanded to be emptied. Even so, some of it managed to escape in desperation as she yelled, “Kaden. Let me go. Kaden let me go. Nadia is dying. Nadia is dying, she stabbed herself, you need to let me go right now. Nadia is going to die. She’ll die if she doesn’t stop the bleeding.” Regan’s tongue felt weak and out of place as she spoke those words. Nadia dying had been a possibility, but not one that she wanted to actually, truly allow herself to believe. And while she could feel Kaden’s arms loosen for just a moment, they latched back around her. Her lungs fought against his grip for a second, but they quickly deflated.  

Cordelia drifted toward the edge of the circle as everything shook and shattered around them, her sharp eyes meeting Regan’s as they darkened again. At this point, she wasn’t sure whether or not she was hallucinating the way Cordelia seemed to be there one moment and gone the next as the chanting crested. But Cordelia was right, in her sick, twisted way. Regan’s top priority was saving Nadia’s life, and whatever agenda Cordelia had -- escaping? -- didn’t matter at this moment. They could worry about that later, when Nadia was alive and healthy. As Kaden’s grip only tightened, she understood that no one else seemed to share that goal, and she was struck with far more frustration and fear than she was allowed. “Don’t touch her! Stay away from her, don’t touch her! I’m not going to let you hurt her!” Regan screamed, barely holding back. Kaden. She couldn’t do that again. Not with Kaden right there. She dug her nails into her palm, feeling the blood pool through bandages. You cannot afford yourself emotion. For every bit of feeling you react to, you surrender yourself to the mercy of your screams. Deirdre would have been appalled by all of this. False calmness swam over her, but her heart couldn’t lie -- it still beat twice as quickly as it usually did.

Tell her what to do. “Nadia,” Regan said, her voice trembling. She wasn’t sure if the remaining glass shattering was because of her, or Cordelia. The marmot statue, too. It was unacceptable. Dangerous. Not doing Nadia or Kaden or anyone any good. When Regan spoke again, the quiver vanished. “You’ve already pulled the knife out. That’s-- that isn’t good. Someone needs to grab a towel from the kitchen or remove their shirt and pass it to Nadia. Shirt is faster. Nadia, lie flat on the ground and press the shirt to the wound. Do everything that you possibly can to maintain consciousness. Listen to someone’s voice and use it as an anchor. Keep talking. Talk to me.” Her voice flattened with despair despite her best attempts to snuff it out, “Kaden, please let me go. Please. Whatever they’re doing, I don’t think it’s going to be fast enough.”

“If I let you go she’ll die! We can’t!” Kaden kept his arms wrapped tight around Regan, despite her protests. If she screamed now, he’d have no idea if it was for Nadia or for himself. And he wasn’t sure it would fucking matter one way or another. He shut his eyes and held fast. It was all he could do. Brace them both against whatever was happening in that circle in front of them. He couldn’t see much even with his eyes open. As a scream tore through her, he winced and gripped her tighter. Tears pricked at his eyes and his own scream ripped through his throat that he couldn’t hear as the sound resonated through him. This was it. This was how he’d die. Not hunting. Not in the woods. In his friend’s apartment holding back a banshee. Hold on. He just had to hold on. Relief didn’t come when the sound stopped. The ringing didn’t stop either. He wanted to check to see if his ears were bleeding, he was pretty sure he felt the familiar dripping down his earlobe, but he didn’t let go of her; he wouldn’t. Muffled sounds came from in front of him that sounded like her voice, but he couldn’t make out a single word she was saying. Not yet. He didn’t dare let up on her. “Hold on, Nadia,” he said, locking eyes with her. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew it wasn’t over yet. He turned to face the exorcists, watching closely for any sign for when this would end. “Blanche!” he called out to her, though he couldn’t regulate his own volume. He hoped she could hear him. “Tell me when. The second it’s done. Somehow.” He hoped she could. But he wouldn’t let go of Regan until he knew for sure that the exorcism was over, when he knew Cordelia was banished forever.

It was hard not to get distracted by the sound of Regan screaming, especially how the loud scream rattled around in Blanche’s head. She was glad she wasn't the one chanting, even as she forced herself to stay rooted to the spot as she saw all the blood pour out of Nadia’s wound. A wave of nausea overtook her just as she met Connor’s gaze, and even as her skin tinged green, she was able to force the horrible feeling back as she gripped Connor’s hand tightly. It was hard to explain, but the second she did, she felt the power leeching from her, pouring into the exorcism. She heard Kaden yell to her, and could only raise her free hand to show she heard him, closing her eyes tightly as she willed every ounce of energy and power she had to Connor and Mav. She didn't know how this worked, but her seance sessions with Jasmine and whatever witchy-things she had done with Nell told her intention mattered. Even as the image of Nadia’s blood staining the floor hung in the back of her mind, she threw herself into the focus of energy that would ultimately - hopefully - be Cordelia’s undoing.

This here little lady was a tough spirit to banish. She was stubborner than a mule and he got the feeling she had a burr in her saddle. Mav could feel the young exorcist’s energy flowing through him and he felt the burning iron in his hand. He held tight to the chain of the pocket watch, used his words to pull the rope of energy wrapped around the spirit tighter and tighter. They were damn close to sending this spirit back to the hell she crawled out of, he could feel it in his bones. He ducked as a statue went flying towards him. That was a nice try, little lady, but Mav didn’t lose a single syllable of the ritual. He figured this might be about the time in the exorcism where things went all catawampus and objects started flying about. No matter he could handle that. He knew how to dodge a book or two and keep his chin waggling. And he was right. Any loose items on the sides of the room started to go flying every which way and he gave Connor a quick squeeze to let him know to hold fast and carry on with what they were doing. They couldn’t lose sight of the  Just when he thought he was tapped, he felt an extra boost of energy. The mini medium was standing nearby and Connor had grabbed hold of her. All they had to do was pool their energy all together and he could pull this spirit right off the face of the earth.

Connor would have failed at this a thousand times over if not for Mav. It had been foolish to think he could have done this alone. He'd barely been performing exorcisms for a year. How was he supposed to deal with something like this? Cordelia wasn’t living up to her name, because she wasn’t very fucking cordial at all. She was even more evil than he’d originally given her credit for, and he loathed his underestimation of her strength. Maybe if he’d taken her more seriously, they wouldn’t have got to this point, but it was too late now. He needed to focus on the task at hand, not the ones he’d already failed. Cordelia clung on, a parasite desperately trying to cling to the world, and only so she could use it for violence.

As much as Connor tried to drown out what was happening with Kaden and the wailing banshee, he couldn’t block out the screams, couldn’t block out the blood, the desperate instructions that would save Nadia’s life. Or so he hoped. He mentally cursed; at himself, at Cordelia, at this whole mess of a situation. Connor had barely even taken Blanche’s hand, but the surge of energy that flowed through him into Mav was enough for the moment. It had to be.

Connor didn’t stop changing, but he let go of Blanche’s hand to pull one sleeve of his shirt off, slipping the unfastened plaid down over his arm, then he replaced one hand on Mav’s arm with another so he didn’t have to break contact, slipping the rest of it off and leaving him in just the plain white t-shirt underneath. He had to be careful not to move the salt when he placed it into the circle, putting it within Nadia’s reach and silently praying that it would work. They just needed to slow the bleeding. They were almost there. He took Blanche’s hand again and looked up at Mav, who was massively taller than Connor’s slight frame. His eyes practically begged him for this to be over soon.

This was it, Cordelia realized with an unnerving amount of certainty as the words echoed through her core, through her entire being, rattling her from within. She looked down at herself, watching as she faded in and out of existence. Existence. This was it. She was going to just… stop existing. Like she’d never been here at all. She screamed out again, against the pain of it. She’d never felt anything like this when she’d been alive, not in Nadia’s body, and not in her own. Death had hurt less. She dropped to her knees, sinking a bit into the floorboards, in front of Nadia Diaz. Cordelia put her hands on the girl’s face, her neck, trying to absorb herself back into Nadia’s skin, even as the exorcists’ words sent another tremor through her, causing her to flicker like bad tv reception. “Please,” she said, eyes wild with fear. “Please. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die again.” She didn’t want to stop existing. She didn’t want to disappear into nothingness. This wasn’t how her story was supposed to end.

Jerking away from the spectre in front of her, Nadia reached out with blood soaked fingers for the shirt Connor had passed into the circle. She pressed it hard to the wound in her stomach, trying to use the feeling to ground her. “I’m fine,” she managed to say to Regan, though she didn’t think she could keep up a steady stream of monologue. This is me pressing down on the wound. This is me trying not to stare at the ghost in front of me. She’s gotten really easy to see, now, actually. Is that normal? Should I be worried? It’s probably fine. Talking was too hard, at the moment. She’d try again, later, after all of this was over and she could sleep. Fuck, Nadia was tired. She was so tired. But she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t even lay down like Regan instructed because she knew she’d lose consciousness. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long. The fight seemed to be leaving Cordelia, the ghost all frantic screams and icy cold touches against Nadia’s skin, but Nadia felt like she was fading just as quickly. Eyes open, Diaz, she told herself. She pressed harder, the shirt staining in blood as she curled forward, still resting on her knees. She’d have to buy Connor a new shirt.

When Nadia didn’t react to her, Cordelia seethed, jerking at the girl’s arms and pushing her in an attempt to get a reaction. “Don’t ignore me! I know you see me!” she howled, a last ditch effort for attention. Nothing was working, not her hands frantically trying to pull Nadia’s away from the wound, not her abilities to throw objects against walls and people. She was drained, spent, unravelling. Not that there was much left of her to unravel. She was the last bit of string on an empty spool. “You’ll die, too, you stupid, stupid bitch,” she snarled, getting in Nadia’s face one last time. “They won’t finish in time to save you. You’re going to be right back where you started. They can’t save you. You can’t even save yourself.” Cordelia managed to grip Nadia’s arm, her fingers only slightly sinking into soft skin. She looked into Nadia’s face, practically bloodless, and she felt a brief sense of satisfaction amidst all the panic and fear and blinding anger, knowing that she’d be the end of Nadia Diaz’s life, even if it meant the end of her own.

“Vete pa la puñeta,” Nadia said quietly to the poltergeist in front of her, looking Cordelia in her pale, flickering eyes. Go to hell. Though, Cordelia wasn’t going anywhere. There’d be nowhere for her to go. She’d be gone, nothing more than a lot of bad, bad memories and scars on the people that she’d hurt. She’d be nothing more than the cause of blood on Nadia’s hands. Cordelia was barely even there anymore, her form appearing and disappearing as she barely clung to Nadia, to life. But she didn’t seem like she could hold on anymore.

With a final scream, Cordelia felt herself slipping away despite the way she tried to wrap her fingers around Nadia’s heart, her soul. She looked at herself as she disappeared. It didn’t feel like dying. It wasn’t even painful, anymore. It felt like absolutely nothing at all, and, after clinging to life far after her expiration date, nothing at all is what Cordelia Gregory became.

Eyes shut tightly, Nadia sagged forward, unable to hold herself up properly as Cordelia vanished. For good. She was gone for good, and Nadia was still there, still in her body, though she felt herself fading fast. Far too fast. Still, she felt… relief. Cordelia was gone. She’d never hurt anyone ever again. Nadia would be her last victim, and that made her feel warm, even though her body was freezing. She heard noises, people moving around her, but she couldn’t bring herself to raise her head. Too much effort. “I’m fine,” she muttered because, really, she couldn’t feel much pain, not anymore. She was fine, even though there was a lot of blood. She needed-- jerking her head up, she looked at Regan, her eyes panicked and her vision fuzzy around the edges. “No hospitals,” she said, her voice sounding distorted in her ears. That was all she could manage to say, then she fell forward again, and Nadia Diaz knew nothing more.

“We have to! She’ll die! She’ll die!” Regan shouted, trying her best not to let an outburst become a scream. She couldn’t tell how successful she was, but Kaden was still clinging onto her, nearly choking her, and as she turned and saw blood dripping down from her boyfriend’s ears, her heart choked, too. She knew she couldn’t risk saying anything more; she needed to think only of the numb nothingness of the clearing, the improbable calmness she now held as she forced herself into the water. But Nadia. Nadia was-- Regan tried desperately to pry Kaden’s hands away from her, barely noticing as Connor supplied his shirt and Cordelia’s howls grew more and more frantic. Something was happening. She didn’t understand it, and right now, didn’t concern herself with wanting to. The only thing that mattered was that it could result in her being able to get to Nadia. She didn’t ease up, though -- she kept trying to slip out and fight her way toward the circle, her eyes never leaving the growing pool of blood underneath her friend. Nadia claimed to be fine even as there was no more white on the shirt and even as her face blanched more with each passing second.

The room stormed around them. Cupboards slammed open, furniture dragged itself across the floor, and as the chanting grew louder, Cordelia’s desperation and cries surged like lightning. Cordelia had pounced for Nadia’s neck like a viper, and Regan -- trapped in Kaden’s arms as she struggled, unable to even scream a warning -- had never felt more useless. This wasn’t what she thought would happen. They were here to save Nadia, right? Shouldn’t that have been the priority? Why was this in question? Why-- but in the blink of an eye, Cordelia was no more, dissipating like insubstantial mist. The room changed, the drop in pressure palpable as everything seemed to still. And Nadia, Regan realized as terror engulfed her, stilled, too.

Kaden’s arms grew slack. Regan didn’t think. She tore out of them and sprinted toward the inner circle, where Nadia lay unconscious on the ground, blood still rushing from the wound in her abdomen. No hospitals? Fuck that. She wouldn’t-- Nadia-- she wouldn’t let her die. That wasn’t a wish that she would respect if her life was on the line. The bleeding was catastrophic, and unless they stopped it soon, Nadia would not make it out of here alive.

Regan scrambled for the bloodied shirt and pressed it tight against the wound, Nadia’s blood soaking through to her fingers, burning her skin to blisters. It hurt, but Deirdre had prepared her well, and she would stay there like this for hours if necessary. Anything. “I need help. Someone needs to roll her onto her back while I apply pressure. The stab wound runs all the way through her.” Regan didn’t dare ease off the wound, but she checked Nadia’s pulse -- rapid -- and her skin -- cold, clammy -- and knew controlling the bleeding was only the beginning. “She’s in shock. She may be unresponsive; I need to do a sternal rub to check. Kaden, grab me the hemostatic dressing from the kit. Once you bring them, I need you to place your hands where mine are and do not ease up. Blanche, get a blanket and towels. Connor, get my phone from the kitchen and call--” she hesitated, “Call Dr. Lin-King. Tell her I’ll explain later.”

In the end, Cordelia begged for her life, unhinged and desperate with fear. It was hard for Blanche not to see the parallels with Constance Cunningham, the other red haired poltergeist that had yet to vacate her mind since her undoing the previous week. Resentment and self-hatred rose in her, stifling everything but the surge of power in her fingertips. She gripped Connor’s hand tighter, as if to anchor herself down to this spot. It was heartbreaking to see how the outcome of Constance and Cordelia’s situations didn’t change anything, even when she changed her actions. A soul was destroyed, eradicated from existence forever. Maybe Cordelia deserved it -- maybe there was some part of her that knew Constance did too, though she would sooner willingly light herself on fire than admit that -- but Blanche couldn’t help but circle back to the disappointment and anger she felt in herself and at the world as she saw the pieces of Cordelia’s soul fade away with her final screams, her furious fear clinging to the air, rattling around loosely in Blanche’s mind. Soon Blanche wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the screams that haunted her - rage and resentment would echo and she would wonder whose it was. Constance Cunningham? Coredelia Gregory? Maybe even a glimpse of Lauren Langley?

How many memories of destroyed spirits would be left behind in her mind before Blanche went insane? It was a cold thought, and it was that thought, not Regan barking orders at her, that snapped her back to reality. Realizing she was still clutching Connor’s hand in a death grip, she let it go and went to go search for what Regan asked her for. Admittedly, she hadn’t been listening, but she could guess what she needed. Towels. Something to cover Nadia, who was bleeding out on the floor. Nadia, whose life was in danger again because of a ghost who was too afraid to just die.

Blanche realized then what she wanted to say to Cordelia, though it was more than too late. A reminder that dying was probably the easiest thing any of them would ever do, masked by the fear of the unknown deluding them all into thinking it was the hardest thing of all. Living was harder, but as Blanche finally found suitable towels bringing them back to Regan, she knew that simply existing was the hardest thing in the world.

#season's yeeting pt. 2 #chatzy: blanche harlow #chatzy: connor piers #chatzy: regan kavanagh #chatzy: kaden langley #mav the exorcist #not!nadia #//that's a wrap kids #self-harm tw #wickedscontent

[kellbellsparkles]

Chapter 11 of my Ratchet and Clank fanfic "Family"

Ratchet learns more about his father from his mother. Meanwhile, Talwyn undertakes a task to procure the means to find out why Aphelion is signaling for help.

Click clink.

Ratchet wound the handle of a custom made green cubicle action figure he fashioned. He let go and off it went across the floor. Edith watched with eyes of a child wandering into a toy store for the first time and clapped her hands.

"That was the very first invention I ever made," Ratchet said. "I think I was three." 

"You remembered and you were able to make that all by yourself," Edith said with wonder and aw in her eyes. 

Ratchet's creation soon stopped in place. Ratchet picked it up and traced his fingers along the design.

"Was it normal for Lombaxes to build things so young?" he asked.

"The most common age for children to start playing with actual machinery was five to six years old," Edith replied. "You were an early bloomer."

"Was Dad, too?"

"He was, but--" Edith cut herself off with a bout of giggles. "Oh dear. He figured out how to make his own pipe bomb after memorizing the code for his family's garage." 

"Wha--huh??" Ratchet shouted, exasperated. "Explosives??"

"Kaden was building his reputation for "really" thinking outside the box. He wanted his central command and warring factions to feel "authentic". His older brother, your Uncle Mace, took notice first and raced to take away the bomb, but it went off in his hand before he could throw it away. He lost all of his fingers." 

Ratchet's jaw hung open. His head reeled from the new information about his father and their species as a whole. His chest rose as his heart eagerly pounded away.

"Were kids always that dangerous?" he asked in disbelief.

"They were always supervised and mandatory inventing safety was taught in schools," Edith said. "The government poured much of its resources into playgrounds and logic based toys to keep them stimulated. That didn't stop your father from getting into trouble though. He built his very first space ship when he was eight." 

Ratchet removed his cap once more and fanned himself to remain grounded from the surge of overwhelming joy and giddiness.

"Holy crap," he uttered.

"He was headstrong, confident, and unwavering," Edith said warmly. "He inspired me to want to leave my comfort zone."

"So how did you two meet?"

"Well, I had already known of him, but he was going places and just starting out as a Pint Magistrate of the Praetorian Guard. I thought it'd be impossible to get his attention, but I knew if I didn't do something, then I would never have another chance. I decided to enter the annual Sterling Heralding Inspiring Talent Showcase as a singer. There was just one problem: how would I know if Kaden actually watched the program? So, I did what I thought was the most reasonable thing; I asked his best friend." 

Ratchet's ears perked at the last two words. He gritted his teeth as Edith continued her story, knowing exactly who she was referring to.

"Would you believe my luck that he was right there as I was realizing my predicament?" Edith went on. "Now, this was Alister Azimuth. His family was famous for being the overseers of the planetary defenses and scientific research, and that very same man was the key to your father. I asked him to tell Kaden to please tune in to the talent showcase that night."

"And he did."

"I didn't make it past the first round, but Kaden found where I lived and said that I deserved better, that no one put as much heart and soul into their act as I did. He brought me the biggest bouquet of flowers I had ever seen gifted to anyone." 

"Talk about making a first impression."

"We just took off from there." 

Edith swayed back and forth with a lovestruck smile. Her heart tickled and fluttered while remembering Kaden's heroic charisma and the admiration he had when they held hands and stared into each other's eyes. She couldn't wait to share those feelings with their son. In the background sat Ratchet's chest strap that served as a portable link between him and Aphelion. It laid on the muffling surface of the bed, thus its vibrating fell on deaf ears.

A fair distance away, Talwyn had reached the bustling vullard settlement. The citizens carried supplies and scraps in the carry-on compartment on their backs and traded with one another. She caught glimpse of a seemingly working space craft in the nearest shop. She hurriedly trotted over.  

"Excuse me," she called out to the shopkeep. "Is it possible that I can borrow your ship for a reasonable price? It's an emergency."

The shopkeep stood and pondered for a moment, scratching his chin.

"I don't see why not," he said. "As for payment, I'd like for you to collect something for me."

Talwyn rolled her eyes; there was always a classic catch for needing something.

"What do you need?" she asked.

"I am in need of Torrencian Crystals to craft my night light products, see? My good friend, Brom, normally helps me, but he's taking time for a personal family project, whatever that means, unless he considers every single one of us his family."

"Where can I find them?" 

"They're in the deepest reaches of the cavern they call Hulsk's Mouth. You can't miss it. It's the one with teethy rock formations."

"How far is it from here?" 

"Just head north for twelve miles then make a thirty-seven degree turn east and keep going until you see the trademark landmark."

Talwyn looked over the rocky horizon with looming dread. Aphelion's distress signal made her feel pressed for time. She checked the gauge of her hover boots by clicking her heels together. To her dismay, they let out a weak puff of smoke, signaling they won't be of any use much longer.

"Is there any down-payment for a mode of transportation?" she inquired.

"I have the most effective means of transport on the house," the shopkeep replied. He reached under his stand and pulled out a coily, dusty pogo stick. 

"Tadaa!" he chimed.

Talwyn stared at the device, dumbfounded and in disbelief.

"A pogo stick?" she said. "How is that supposed to help me?" 

"It's not JUST a pogo stick," the shopkeep stated. "It's the Bouncer Extraordinare Exclamation Point, thus giving it the singing abbreviation of BEEP. It's got more spring in its hop than a first-timer like yourself makes a judgment on. Its balance will make navigating the ruggedy terrain safe and its bounce will provide the fun." 

"This sounds like something Ratchet would come up with," Talwyn remarked. She took a hold of the BEEP. "Alright. I'm game." 

Suddenly, a flap of fabric slapped the wind. A tall, goofy looking robot dawned a crimson cape, standing heroically with his hands on his sides.

"I have traveled far and wide on a daunting, daring quest to save my dear friend!" he proclaimed. 

"Oh boy!" the shopkeep squealed, running to take hold of the cape. "I was looking for that!"

He yanked it off the robot, making him twist and twirl in a rapid fashion. He straightened out the fabric and hung it to reveal his shop shine: Chisel's Night Lights.

The visitor was revealed to be Sigmund. The Zoni watched as Sigmund held his head in place to collect himself, his eyes circling from being dizzy.

"Wait," Talwyn said as she furrowed her brows, registering his appearance. "I think I heard about you from Ratchet and Clank." 

"Ratchet and Clank!" Sigmund blurted out. "Yes, that's me! I mean-- no, I'm not! I'm Sigmund!" He let out a frustrated wail. He bowed his head and hobbled towards Talwyn.

"I'd formally introduce myself as senior caretaker of the Great Clock," he said. "But if you're friends with Ratchet and Clank, we have no time to lose. Clank is in unspeakable fathoms of danger." 

"That's what I feared," Talwyn fretted. "We need to get Torrencian Crystals so this guy here can give us his ship for us to get to Aphelion." 

The shopkeep, Chisel, tossed Sigmund a spare BEEP.

"What's this now?" Sigmund said, stunned and flabbergasted. 

"Just follow my lead," Talwyn said bluntly as she fastened herself onto her BEEP.

"I feel this a tedious chore quest that takes away from the dire and urgent main quest!" Sigmund bellowed in great annoyance. "Plus I don't have feet! How am I supposed to work this BEEP thing?" 

"That one's an automatic bouncer for the feetless or otherwise crippled," Chisel explained.

"That is so weirdly convenient and I don't have time to ask how you're oddly prepared for our situati-OOOOOOON!"

His hand slipped onto the button that turns on the BEEP. It launched him at least ten feet off the ground then forward double the amount. Talwyn followed suit after him, holding her breath at the sudden ascension and flight of the bounce. The Zoni looked on as they hopped away.

"Go on without me, dear Zoni!" Sigmund's cries echoed from a distance. "Carry on my legacy!!"

The Zoni looked to each other. They held hands and continued through the settlement towards their destination.

#ratchetandclankriftapart #ratchetandclank

[inspirationdivine]

Faeby Driver || Lydia and Rio

Timing: Tonight and Tomorrow Parties: @3starsquinn​ @inspirationdivine​ Summary: Several hours after being attacked by Kaden, Lydia completes her promise Warnings: medical blood, body horror, mentions of gun use

Lydia had pulled herself into the car’s backseat by the time she heard someone approaching. Sometimes, when she moved wrong, white hot pain filled her vision with stars, and the only way the world stopped spinning was if she pressed her forehead against the cold window. Inch by inch, she had eased her coat off her body. It was torn and useless now, good only for protecting the cream leather of her carseats from the blood and mud that covered her from where Kaden and her had grappled on the forest floor. Wooden splinters dug into the palms of her hands and on one side of her face, but she couldn’t reach to pull them out. Instead, millimeter by millimeter, she tried to straighten the shattered boneos of her right forearm. This was no easy feat, considering the heavy iron burn and still-bleeding cut from Kaden’s iron-tipped crossbow bolts. She didn’t even know how to begin looking after the shredded wing that hung lightly to her side. Without help, Lydia wasn’t sure she would even get out of here. Her promise to Kaden was slowly beginning to eat at her insides. When she heard Rio approach, Lydia wrapped her glamour around herself like a blanket and growned with the effort. He couldn’t hurt her. He was afraid of hunters himself. If nothing else, he would be ever such a good bargaining chip. Still, her heart beat as fast as a rabbit’s as she watched him approach. 

 In the hurry that Orion was, he hadn’t had much time to get ready before rushing out of the door. He still had on the same sweatpants that he had been sleeping in and had only been able to throw on a hoodie and a pair of shoes before he was rushing out the door and jumping into his car. Rio had no idea what Lydia’s car looked like, but he figured he would just get to Derry Lane and go from there. “Lydia?” Rio called out once he jumped out of his car. His hair stood on end. As far as he knew, that hunter could still be out here and looking for Lydia. Was Rio ready and willing to get in their way? To try to fight the hunter if he had to? The thought alone made Rio want to throw up, but he wasn’t about to let Lydia get killed. He didn’t exactly keep himself well armed on normal occasions, but did have a small hunting knife in his car that Athena had insisted that he keep with him. Just in case. His hearing picked up on a nearby noise and he took off towards it, coming to a stop when he noticed a car along the woodline and jogging to a stop in front of it. “Holy crap.” He whispered, noticing the figure in the backseat. She looked brutalized. Dirt and wood covered her face and she cradled her arm as if it was damaged. There was a nasty burn across it. Up to this point, Rio had never given much thought to what supernatural species Lydia might be. In the grand scheme of things it didn’t really seem that important. But now, Rio was starting to get a ballpark idea. “Thank god you’re alive. Do you have your keys? I need to get you somewhere that’s not here.”

 “Thank the lord indeed,” Lydia groaned. She grit her teeth together and hissed as she reached into her pocket,  pulling out her keys  and tossed them into her hands. “Out of town. I have to- I have to get out of the town,” she insisted. They could stop just outside the border, but she had to leave. The promise was starting to make her sick. There wasn’t even any time to go back for her humans, but she could get Deirdre to get those, if need be. Lydia shifted slightly and cried out as her vision whited out from the searing pain. Her glamour fell to the wayside, her skin glowing only faintly as her wings unfurled and ears extended. 

 “Out of town?” Orion questioned almost immediately. Sure, a hunter was dangerous but did they really have to leave town? If they could get somewhere safe Rio could figure out how to keep the hunter away from her. “How far out of town?” Rio asked. He was apprehensive about the idea, but hadn’t completely counted it out yet. He was desperate to help Lydia. Desperate to prove that he was worth more than the murder of his two parents. If driving for a few hours to drop her off somewhere safe was what she needed, Rio had to at least consider the idea. Before Rio could answer, something happened. Rio knew about glamours. He had never seen one drop so quickly. But in an instant, Lydia had gone from a completely normal woman to a woman with glowing skin, elongated ears and undeniably Fae wings. Though the most shocking visual about this wasn’t any of those things, but instead how maimed and shredded the wing looked. The hunter that had attacked her had been ruthless. The way it looked, Rio didn’t have much choice but to give in. “Yeah. Fine okay. I uh- I’ll drive. Where do we go?”

 She could hear him hesitating already, and almost screamed that he didn’t have a choice. He owed her a debt, he would do as she damn well pleased. But honey caught more flies, and she wanted to keep him sweet as long as she could… Lydia was in no mood to be clever or cruel right now, even to a human, as she pulsed blood out of injuries she couldn’t even wrap herself. He didn’t panic when he saw her, even though for many hunters her distinctive appearance only meant one thing. Not that he could, but it was a small relief that he wouldn’t even try. “Just- just out of town. I promised. I’ll- I’ll explain, I just need to get out first.” Lydia could barely even sit up for the ride, each tiny movement jolting her like hornet stings. She could barely think, barely stay awake, barely plan the next step, like where the hell they should go. How many people she loved that she was leaving behind. “I- I don’t know where to go,” she said, her voice cracking. She could barely believe she was alive.

 Lydia didn’t seem like she was in any state to make a rational decision where to go. But she seemed adamant about leaving town. The more time they spent here, the more they risked that hunter catching up with them too. The way Orion saw it, he wasn’t left with much choice. With a deep sigh, less because of Lydia’s own situation and more because Rio’s own anguish about making a decision might legitimately force him to break into hives.But finally, he relinquished, “Tuck in. I’m closing the door.” He shut the backdoor and circled around to the driver’s seat. One last chance to call 911 instead. But he knew with her state she wouldn’t be able to keep up the glamour. That may put her in even more danger than driving her out of town in her current medical condition. Rio was no doctor. The only training he had was dealing with his own wounds following a particularly brutal training session. Either way, Lydia’s life was in danger. Rio had just decided how much he was willing to participate in keeping her alive. “Try to stay conscious, okay? You might be concussed.” He started the car and gripped the wheel tightly, twisting until his knuckles grew pale. He had no idea where he was going to go, he only knew that he needed to drive. 

 Lydia pulled in to the car, shifting her weight until she found a way to lie that hurt the least, as her blood trickled down her clothes, into the cream leather of her seats and into the creases that only professionals could keep. Staying conscious was manageable, but each bend and bump and everything had her cringing. The weight of the promise lifted off her with every mile, until at least that was one pain untangled in her chest. “I kept making promises,” her voice cracked, and she wasn’t sure if this quick confessional was for her or for him. “God, he just kept hurting me. I was begging him, I couldn’t do anything and he wouldn’t stop. I promised to leave town and he wouldn’t stop. I- I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” And Lydia didn’t know if that counted as a truth because she hadn’t been doing anything except walking in that moment, or because she believed that she hadn’t made a single mistep when it came to Regan while she was here. Her ears rang and her arms hurt too much to wipe away the sudden tear. “Y-you can stop for a little now.”

 Hearing Lydia recounting what happened to her made Orion’s chest tighten. A hunter just as evil and monstrous as his parents had been. So willing to torture someone just for having been born as anything other than human. He wished he had the strength to keep them all safe from hunters, but he knew that in a physical battle Rio didn’t stand much of a chance against most hunters. He never regretted refusing to take part in his parent’s training. But sometimes he wondered if he would have been better off playing along so that he could learn what he could from them before flipping sides. Not that it mattered now, obviously. It was too late to go back and change anything. “Yeah. Sounds good. Let’s just get some rest.” Rio had no idea how long the two had been driving. A glance at the clock showed that it was getting closer to morning, but Rio could barely remember when he had started driving in the first place. He pulled off at the next exit and parked as soon as he could, rubbing at his tired eyes and failing to stifle a yawn. “So what do we do next?”

 “Can you- Can you stitch me up? I have- I have tape for my wing, I just- I can’t reach.” It was the wing she’d just regrown, the wing she’d poured hours and hours of care and ancient fae wisdom into growing. It would heal in time, but slowly with the iron burns, and it would never be complete again. It might have been better if he had torn it right off. Lydia shook that thought away immediately. Her own vanity would be the death of her. First, she would get to Peru, then she would worry about more superficial things. And then the thought struck her again. Peru was the place she needed to go. She could sink into the cultures of the local Aos Si, wait a couple decades for all the hunters in town to die out, maybe even start the family she so desperately desired. When her face would no longer be associated with Lydia Griffin and everyone who wanted her dead was dead themselves or had long forgotten her, she would work out how to break her promise about Regan, and return. It would take time, but time healed most wounds. That was what she needed to do. Lydia reached for her phone, only to yelp, recoiling abruptly and collapsing into the backseat again. “Oh god, oh god,” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut. “To hell with fucking Kaden Langley.”

 “Uh” Was all that Orion managed to draw out for a long moment. He was barely confident in his abilities to patch up his own wounds. A practice that he had spent most of his life doing on a fairly consistent basis. He definitely didn’t have much faith that he could carefully and painlessly wrap up a Fae’s wing. The practice seemed dangerous. But he wanted to help. “Sure. Uh. Just let me know where the tape is.” Rio finally gave in, moving quickly to find the tape so that he could get started. “So uh, I’ve never done this before. Just tell me what to do.” He was ready to get started when the name threw him completely off base. “Wait… what?” Rio recoiled, a sliver of doubt running through his mind. Kaden and Rio had too many arguments to count about the morality of hunting, but even this seemed too violent. “Kaden did this to you?”

 “Glove compartment,” Lydia murmured. “I have a first aid kit there.” His nerves were palpable. She couldn’t in good conscience lead hunters to her healer, she couldn’t call Deirdre, she couldn’t do much of anything other than trust this human child to do a tolerable job. “Start at the back of the wing closes to my spin and closest to my joint. You can slowly work out where it needs taping.” Lydia shuddered at the thought of any human touching her wings, but the situation demanded it. “Just make sure everything's aligned. I’ll try to keep still.” Lydia braced herself as well as possible against the backseat. “He did. I was just walking through the woods, the first thing I heard were gunshots. I don’t know how he kept missing me. Then he wasn’t-” Lydia hissed sharply through her teeth, gripping the seat in front of her sharply. “I guess he stopped missing. It was almost like he was enjoying making me hurt. He was… I’m terrified, Rio, I’m so scared.”

 Orion got to work quietly, focusing on the wrapping to make sure he wasn’t too rough. One of the many cons of super strength meant that it was far too easy to put too much in what should be a regular push or pull. When Rio’s strength first came in he had made unfortunate victims of many door hinges and freezer doors at grocery stores. At this point in his life, he had mostly gotten a grip on that strength, but stressful situations always made Rio lose focus. But he tried to focus on her instructions as he slowly wrapped the damaged wing. His mind kept straying to Kaden though. How could he have done something like this? Maybe that was just who Kaden was. Rio hadn’t wanted to see that. Maybe he had been fooling himself into thinking that Kaden was changing. Kaden had been very clear on many situations that he didn’t see them as people. Rio shivered at the thought. What was he supposed to do about this? “He’s not going to hurt you.” Rio reassured her. “We’re going to get you out of here and then I’m going to talk to him when I get back to town and… you’re going to be fine.”

 Once he began to tape her, Lydia’s mind shrank to white static, digging her nails into the bloodied leather as she screamed between her teeth. Her body burned like lightning had hit her. Not that any hunter deserved to think they were that powerful, but if the last seven decades hadn’t done it, Kaden had cemented her belief that hunters all deserved to die, Even the ones she could weaponise, Lydia screamed on last time, and then Rio let go.  Lydia slumped, pressing her face into the seat.  “Please don’t. I don’t think you can reason with him. He might even hurt you.” He would be dead by the time Rio tried, but that was neither here nor there. She reached for her phone, trying to think, trying to win. Kaden Langley would send more. They couldn’t stay here. “I think I- I can get in touch with a friend, I can get out of the country. Can you- god, I hate asking, but can you stay until they’re with us, wherever they want to meet?”

 Orion was quick to move away from Lydia and her wings once he had finished wrapping it. Something about it all felt so… wrong. He couldn’t touch them without flashing back to the moment Lydia deduced that Rio was a hunter. The disgust and fear in her voice had been so visceral. So absolute. What right did Rio have to help her, knowing what his family had done to fae just like her? He wanted to keep a healthy distance if he could. For her own comfort as well as his own. “I don’t think-” Rio wanted to defend Kaden. Rio knew the image of Kaden that he had built up for himself. Someone who truly believed that they were doing what was right. Someone that had seemed so black and white when the two had first met. But now seemed conflicted in all the opposite reasons Rio was. In a way, Rio and Kaden seemed to be two different sides to the same coin. How could someone Rio considered a friend do something like this? But Lydia’s condition was hard to ignore. So for now, Rio would listen to her pleas. He wouldn’t reach out to Kaden. Not yet at least. At least now Lydia seemed to have a plan. It meant leaving the country, which seemed a bit dramatic, but Rio wasn’t about to argue. All he needed to do now was hang out with her until this friend of hers could step in. “Yeah. Of course. You got it.”

 “He did. He did, please, you have to-” Lydia coughed from the bruising ache of Regan’s last scream. Or perhaps it was from when she’d plummeted to the ground where Kaden had shot her out of the sky. Every inch of her ached, all the way to her heart and the weight of newfound family, and everyone who had been left behind. She made a call to her friend, black stars flashing in front of her eyes. She’d need ID, enough to get on the plane, and the plane itself, but nothing else until she landed. “Okay. Can you… drive me to Castle Rock and my friend’ll- my friend’ll-” The dark swallowed Lydia as she collapsed in the backseat. Her body was healing itself, and it would not wake her for another several hours. 

 Just drive her to safety and wait for her friend and then you can go home. Just drive her to safety. Wait for her friend. Then go home. If Orion kept repeating the same mantra over and over again, he could convince himself that nothing about this could go horribly wrong. She would make it there without dying from her potentially very serious wounds. Her friend would show up with everything that Lydia needs to make sure Kaden can’t hurt her again. Then Rio could go home knowing he had helped someone. He refused to consider any other scenario. Acknowledging all the things that could go wrong seemed counterproductive. “Castle Rock- Got it. I-” Rio was already in the driver’s seat and starting the car when he realized that Lydia hadn’t just trailed off. She had passed out completely. “No- Hey… Lydia.” Rio began quietly, trying to ease her into consciousness. When that didn’t work, his voice became increadingly louder and frantic. “Lydia! You need to wake up okay? You could have a concussion. Lydia!” He started driving, still mumbling her name as he got back onto the main road and headed towards the highway. He would start heading in the direction of Castle Rock. If she didn’t wake up soon, he would have to detour to a hospital. He didn’t have any plans on how to explain her anatomy or her appearance if the glamour failed, but he couldn’t just let her die. 

 When Lydia woke up, the light had changed, dark into daylight. Her bones had begun to stitch together incorrectly, the bleeding stopped and caked onto her skin and the leather behind her. Her phone was vibrating by her cheek, like a call was coming through. After reassuring Rio, she sat up, blinking blearily at the screen. Hermana. Deirdre. Lydia blinked in confusion, before declining the call. She could answer later once she was on the flight. They could discuss Regan and Kaden and whatever dead rabbit Deirdre had found then. Lydia checked her messages about the flight. Three more hours. She set her phone down, only for the buzz to come through again. Deirdre. Lydia declined on the first ring this time. “Where are-”

 It was her phone. Again.

#para #chatzy #rio #medical blood tw

[fatesdeepdive]

Entry 14: Groans of Increasing Discomfort

Heading back to the castle, it seems I’ve accumulated a ton of new buildings to buy. I can buy a statue of Mozu which probably costed more than her entire village, a ballista and shuriken launcher to use in castle battles, a bunch of puppets to give me nightmares (they fight for you in castle battles too I guess), a shop to buy new units (both generics and clones of the soldiers I already have), and a hot spring. Because fanservice. You can run into other units in there, everyone is in their underwear and blushing, half of the decisions that were made in this game’s development were solely for the sake of horniness, yada yada yada. I actually tried to leave and the game stopped me, because Sakura was showing up and it’s necessary to get that bath time with the teenage girl. The hot springs does have a use, admittedly, but it won’t become apparent for a few chapters.

Support: Lady Corrin/Reina

C: Corrin sees Reina talking to an old man and asks her about it. Reina explains that he reminds her of her parents, who cut her out of their life when she became a soldier. And also, apparently, don’t give a shit about her being the personal retainer to the goddamn Queen. Actually, wait, hold on. Where the hell was Reina when Mikoto got blown up? You know what? Her parents should be ashamed of her, she’s a terrible bodyguard.

B: Corrin tells Reina she should visit her parents. Which makes sense; Corrin points out that she’s an orphan and wishes for any relationship with a parent, no matter how strained. Reina tells Corrin that she became a soldier because she really, really, really likes killing people. Corrin volunteers to find out how Reina’s parents are doing.

A: Corrin tells Reina that her parents are doing fine. Reina retcons the last conversation by revealing that she became a soldier to protect her family’s peasants. Nowadays, though, it’s all about that murder.

Review: This one was fine. Corrin wanting to help Reina is a nice bit of characterization, but there isn’t much more to say about this one.

Now, you may be wondering why I referred to Corrin as Lady Corrin in the last bit. Reina actually has completely different supports depending on Corrin’s sex. Most characters have identical supports with Corrin, or if not that just minor dialogue changes (For example, Camilla and Laslow, off the top of my head). But characters like Reina, who can only support Corrin, get two conversations. I suppose it’s for the best, considering those characters would otherwise be incredibly out of focus as opposed to merely extremely out of focus.

Support: Lord Corrin/Reina

C: Corrin sees Reina carrying an apron, which weirds him out, because of the whole murder hobo thing.

B: Reina reveals her sheltered noblewoman housewife in training turned soldier backstory and says that the apron was a gift from her parents before they cut her out.

A: Reina says that her parents cried when she became a knight and that she keeps the apron out of gratitude for them.

S: Corrin, off screen, goes back to Hoshido to talk to Reina’s parents. Apparently they’re proud of her. And he asked to marry her, which she accepts, because she cannot imagine life without him. Apparently.

Review: So, these are kinda the same support? I mean, the actual words are different, but they cover the same information. It’s weird that they were split into two conversations. Whatever. The second one is better, because it gives this really fun characterization of Reina being a friendly team mom when she isn’t stabbing people so she can hear them gasp their last breaths. Also, it resolves the plotline. On the other hand, the S-Rank is really mediocre. Reina saying she relies on Corrin daily is ridiculous, given what we’ve seen. Overall, the problem with Reina is that she just has these two conversations. And one with Kanna, I guess, but that one is recycled from other characters. If Reina was a more fleshed out character that interacted with other characters, she might work as a character. But, as it stands, all she has is her recruitment and two mediocre supports.

Support: Hinata/Takumi

C: Hinata kicks down the door to Takumi’s room so he can tell him that he’s going to start a fighting tournament so he can beat people up.

B: Hinata beats people up.

A: Hinata reveals that he’s beating people up to cheer up Takumi, because Takumi looks happy when he cheers him on. I feel like he could have, I don’t know, asked Takumi how to cheer him up in advance instead of just assuming and doing something he said he didn’t want, but whatever. The two bond over Hinata beating people up.

Review: I think this one helped me hone in on why a lot of Fire Emblem supports don’t work. Supports are, by their very nature, just dialogue. So, when you get a support like this, that relies heavily on something happening, it ends up as telling not showing. That’s why the best supports rely on dialogue rather than explain something that happened off screen.

Support: Kagero/Saizo

C: Kagero and Saizo get into an argument over how to train royal guards, with Kagero pointing out that Saizo’s hard as nails “be ready to die for the monarchy” speech just stressed people out. Saizo blames the new recruits for being inexperienced.

B: Saizo endangers the life of his men to succeed on a mission and Kagero calls him out on it. Saizo points out that victory requires sacrifice and war is unforgiving. The two of them point out that they’ve had this exact argument again and again, and it’s the reason they broke up when they were dating.

A: Kagero and Saizo win a big battle together and admit that they work well together.

S: Saizo points out that their relationship failed because they kept trying to change each other and forgot that they loved each other. The two of them decide to give it another shot.

Review: This one has a much more solemn and reserved tone than most supports, which helps it stand out. It isn’t great, but it has a good tone and I actually don’t dislike Saizo and Kagero as a couple. Them being a flawed couple that broke up over their differences, then trying it again after maturing and becoming more rounded people is a lot more realistic than most relationships in this game.

Birthright Chapter 12: Dark Reunion

The gang arrives in Cyrkensia, a city in Nestra, a country that I forgot existed because this is the only part of the game where it is mentioned. Cyrkensia is a popular vacation spot with a big opera house that appeared in the intro.

A kitsune named Kaden goes up to the party and explains that he’s in town to repay a favor to someone. This introduction feels like when you introduce a new player halfway through a D&D campaign and they quickly explain their deal after walking up to the party.

Kaden introduces his friend Layla, who explains that she’s a singer at the opera house, but can’t perform tonight because her mother is dying. Also she’s singing for King Garon, the evil king who is on vacation a week after starting a brutal war. Azura volunteers to perform in Layla’s steed so the party can do some patricide. Now, you may be thinking, did the game do the stupid trope of having Azura and Layla look identical? Surprisingly, no, they didn’t. Everything else about this chapter is so cliche I assumed they would, but they actually remembered Zola has illusion magic that the party never uses. Also, because we helped the person Kaden has to help, he now owes us a favor, and will totally kill dozens of soldiers in a war he doesn’t give a shit about if we ask him to.

Kaden

Kaden is a Kitsune, this game’s equivalent of Laguz or Taguel from past games. He wields a special weapon called a Beast Stone that allows him to fight by turning into a big ass fox. His personal skill heals units who heal him. He’s a glass canon who does extra damage to cavalry, giving him an interesting niche. His human design is fine, but not remarkable. His fox design is cool, especially regarding the blue fire that floats around him; that said, the spikes on the legs are weird. Personality wise, he seems to be a go lucky idiot who stumbled into joining us.

When the party arrives at the opera house, Corrin notices Elise, who looks sad. Azura, who doesn’t look like Layla for the player, goes on stage. Azura sings the only song she knows, the magic one that breaks mind control, which makes Garon...groan in increasing discomfort, which makes me also feel discomforted. Also Azura does a bunch of crazy water magic, which is a bit extra.

Garon orders his troops to capture us, because Zola betrayed us. Gasp. Shocking. Zola does admittedly beg Garon to spare us. Garon kills him for even suggesting it, right in front of his young daughter, because Garon is a cartoon supervillain. Zola dies begging Corrin to forgive him and Garon calls Corrin weak for having sympathy. Takumi threatens to kill Garon, but Corrin points out that they need to leave if they want to live. Which is smart; Garon has ridiculously high stats.

This battle sees our units fighting on boats floating in the opera house, which is a cool setting for a battle. On turn three, some reinforcements arrive. Xander, who’s still pissed about the whole traitor thing. With him are Peri, a cavalier with cotton candy hair, and...is that Inigo? That’s Inigo, from Awakening. That’s fucking Inigo! What is Inigo doing here, and more importantly, why is he working for the very obviously evil bad guys?

There’s a Dragon Vein you can use to freeze all the water, which would make this level easier, if it wasn’t already a broken easy level. To beat this level, you need to get Corrin to a specific spot. Corrin can’t walk on water, so you need to fight through an onslaught of tough enemies. There’s just one problem: Hinoka or Subaki can carry Corrin directly to the end. I fought the enemies, because why not, but I didn’t have to.

I ignored Garon because he’s able to one shot literally every unit in my army, but I did decide to take on team Xander. Side note, I looked up Garon’s battle quote after the fact, and he says this to Corrin: “I may not be your father, but I will slap you down like a child.” I take back everything bad I ever said about Garon.

Peri, as it turns out, is a sadistic sociopath, because Nohr. Inigo...excuse me, Laslow, blushes when we stab him. And Xander steals Inigo’s famous crit quote from the Princess Bride.

Peri and Laslow went down easy, but Xander was almost as bad as Garon. Even with his bonus against cavalry, Kaden only did one point of damage per hit. I had to resort to the classic strategy of throwing disposable soldiers at him until he was weak enough for Corrin to Dragonstone.

This was a great map, with a creative setting, multiple ways to approach it, tough bosses, and an exploit that makes it completely skippable. Still, it’s the only Birthright chapter with a creative goal, so it deserves a little credit.

After escaping the opera house, Xander chases after us, despite being defeated ten seconds earlier. Elise gets in his way, telling him that if he’s going to fight someone, he should fight her. As Corrin runs, Xander warns that it is her destiny to fight him.

After escaping Xander again, Corrin finds Azura collapsed on the ground, exhausted. She’s going to die at the end of the game, isn’t she?

#xander fe #azura fe #corrin fe #kaden fe #garon fe #elise fe #takumi x hinata #saizo x fe #corrin x reina #saizo fe #kagero fe #wifi sucks so late

[rocket-remmy]

Dead Weight || Morgan and Remmy

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems  and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: Remmy comes to see Lydia. CONTENT: Domestic abuse mention

Staying at the clinic wasn’t really viable after a spriggan healing up from a pickpocket scheme gone wrong kept referring to Morgan as Deirdre’s pet bottom feeder, so by the time evening fell, they were both installed back in their house on the East End. Deirdre was asleep, or trying to relive some memory by staring at the wall, Morgan couldn’t tell which. But Deirdre wasn’t cognizant enough to hold a five minute conversation, so bringing her down for Remmy’s visit seemed like a bad idea. Morgan was worried about bringing the ashes down with her as it was. 

Staring at the vase, Morgan couldn’t help but wonder if this had been made by one of her captives. And what about the art restoration? The rest of her work? The good Lydia had done was as real as anything, but what was left? It felt like with each conversation she had, more of it crumbled away. She’d had this whole elaborate life, so elaborate Morgan didn’t even know half of it existed, and yet what remained felt like no more than the ash in this stupid, creepy vase.

She recognized Remmy’s quiet knock at once, but her limbs moved clumsily to the door. She fumbled with the lock, even though she’d turned it with just a flick of her wrist hundreds of times before. “Hey,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry, from before.” I just keep fucking up with you, don’t I? “Come in, I put her vase in the Great Room.”

Lydia was dead. Lydia, who apparently kidnapped people and held them hostage and abused them. Lydia, who fed off humans and called them cattle and barely batted an eye at their pain. And Lydia, who was soft and gentle when Remmy needed someone most. Lydia, who had come to love them even though they were a zombie and she was a fae. Lydia, who had sold out her own species’ secrets to save them, who had let them kill another fae, and never loved them less for it. Lydia, who was so horribly good to Remmy, that the pain of her truth still tore at their unbeating heart every second of every day. They had decided, when they’d left, that they needed to stand their ground with her. They needed to figure themself out, first, before coming back to try and work something out with her. But now...she was gone. That eternity that they were supposed to have was cut short. And now, not only did Remmy have to decide how to confront the reality of their own immortality, but the reality that now they had to live that length with their decision. With the last words they’d ever said to Lydia being that they would never forgive her. They were written in digital stone and no amount of crying would ever erase them.

Morgan’s door was oddly painful to look at. Remmy screwed up their face in any attempt to seem put together before knocking, but found it wholly unsuccessful, folding the second they saw Morgan’s face appear behind the door. “Vase?” was all they managed to say, following her in. They meandered in the direction that she pointed, turning the corner and-- stopping. It was just a heart shaped vase. Whatever was left of her was inside of that, and...that was it. That was all that was left of Lydia. After everything she’d done and everything she’d been, this was all she was now. Remmy didn’t move. “That’s...it?” they croaked, eyes glued to the vase, even as their voice searched for Morgan or an answer or something. “That’s all?”

Morgan held herself steady as she lead Remmy through the house. They knew the way as well as she did after staying for so many weeks, but the familiarity between them was strained. The last thing she’d done with them before Lydia died was send them away. She couldn’t shoulder their disappointment, their betrayal, while waiting for them to walk away from her instead. She liked her losses to be clear and solid. But watching Remmy’s heart break snapped the distance shut, a rubber band falling back into shape. Remmy was the only one who could feel Lydia’s death the way she did. Remmy saw her in that basement. Remmy knew how cruelly apathetic she’d been to Chloe. And Remmy knew how even Lydia’s laugh sounded sophisticated, and the glow of her smile, and how patient she could be even when she was irritated, how...absurdly, horrifically wonderful. Morgan slid into their side and gripped their hand. “She was trying to leave town,” she murmured, her voice already falling apart. “I haven’t asked Deirdre for the specifics but I heard...she called us right before, maybe even right as it was happening and I heard…” Screaming. Broken, anguished screaming she would give anything to un-know. Lydia didn’t beg or sob like that when she was herself. She was articulate and proud, a masterpiece in an exhibition. Even when it was just the two of them, she’d tried to hold herself up for Morgan and Morgan let her. She couldn’t think of that pride now without hearing the shrill, keening sound of her death crackling over the phone. “It was awful, Remmy. I don’t know how they did it, but it was awful and this was how we found her…”

Remmy stood still in the doorway, unable to cross the threshold. They didn’t want to know how horrible Lydia’s death had been because it made their heartache and they didn’t want it to. Lydia was ostensibly a bad person, but that didn’t mean she was irredeemable, right? She’d hurt so many people, she didn’t deserve forgiveness, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have changed or gotten better or something. But someone else had decided she wasn’t worth it. Again, someone had taken away another person’s choice. Again, someone had stolen a life from the world because they believed their actions were justified. Because they believed death was the only answer. Remmy squeezed Morgan’s hand so tight the bones bent. “Why is this place so violent?” they asked, not sure who they were speaking to anymore. They supposed Morgan, considering she was the only other one in the room. A space filled with three dead souls but only two still standing. “Why is it always death?” 

 Morgan squeezed Remmy back, just as hard. “It’s the whole world, Remmy. It’s everything we can’t escape. We break things and we lose things and everywhere you turn it’s life or death. That’s the rules for people like us.” She swallowed thickly, looking at the vase again. It was almost the same color as Lydia’s ashes. However they’d been made, they’d been burned so fine, almost perfect. “I know I...you and I are different. I know that. And for me, maybe if it had just been a fight, maybe if some hunter had found out how she was and decided to stop her and she’d gone down fighting him over it, it wouldn’t feel so…” Wrong. Morgan shook her head, cringing as the memory of Lydia’s pain echoed in her ears again. “We stayed on the phone until the battery gave out. It was awful, she was hurt so bad you could hear it. It wasn’t a fight, and I think I hate that the most. In a fucking back alley. She was leaving town…” But Morgan could feel her excuses and her fear choking her. She hated the pain she wasn’t able to unhear. She hated how imbalanced it seemed, everything Lydia was reduced to trash. But even if Kaden had killed her himself, if he had shot her and made it quick. “I miss her,” Morgan whispered. “I hate her and I love her and I miss her, Remmy. I think I was going to feel that no matter what. Is that bad?” 

All Remmy could do was listen. The words fell out of their head like water. There was nothing solid there to hold onto. Nothing made any of this better. Lydia was bad, but she hadn’t deserved to suffer like that. No one did. There was always so much suffering, so much pain. It was just a cycle that kept going and going and going and Remmy was drowning in it. They let go of Morgan’s hand and finally walked forward, with purpose, kneeling at the table and reaching out to touch the vase. They thought maybe it would feel warm, somehow, warm and comforting, like Lydia’s arms always had been. But it was cold. Cold and grainy, like how Lydia really was underneath everything else. For all Remmy knew, this could’ve been her heart. Frozen and cold and clay. Their hands wrapped around it tightly as they held it in place, but did not move it. Tears burned in their eyes again. They did not want to cry for her, but knowing how she’d died, screaming and suffering and alone, their heart couldn’t hold back. A small crack appeared in the vase by the palm of their hand and Remmy let go of it as if it were suddenly alight with flame. They dug their palms deep into their eyes, fingers clenching their head, and crumpled forward, sobbing with a horrible grief that tore them apart. They had no words. Just sobs and grief and pain. 

Morgan whimpered at the sound of the vase cracking. For a second it felt like Lydia’s body, shattering again. Stars above, she couldn’t bring herself to ask what was done to her, what could make her scream like that. She rushed to Remmy, putting her body between them and the table where Lydia sat. It didn’t feel like rest, looking at her disintegrated beyond recognition. It looked like more punishment. Morgan bundled Remmy in her arms and held them tight, as tight as she ever had. Bone bending, skin puncturing tight. They could take it. They both could. And whatever strain their backs carried, it wasn’t anything compared to what was inside them. “I’m sorry,” Morgan wept. “It should’ve been different…” The killing. The way she’d given Remmy the news. Lydia herself. There wouldn’t even have been something to punish if she had just listened and… “I’m sorry, Remmy. She’s gone and I’m so sorry.” Sorry she didn’t have any answers. Sorry she didn’t have courage to ask for any names from Deirdre’s death vision. Sorry she couldn’t have come up with a better way to get the people out, a way that would’ve left Lydia alive, with hope. “I’m sorry…” There was nothing else to say, nothing else to be, so Morgan held Remmy tighter and cried with them.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: morgan #dead weight #morgan #//short but sweet! #well.....not sweet but u know

[arthurjdrake]

Timing: Before the full moon. Parties: Arthur & @chasseurdeloup​ Summary: A missing child with a surprising connection and a creature in search of retribution makes for uneasy allies.  Warnings: Injury Detail, Blood, Kidnapping

For the most part, Arthur let his descendents live their lives in uninterrupted peace. He didn’t like to step in and potentially complicate things, but sometimes distancing yourself from things was easier said than done. So, on occasion, he would become a family friend - or some other connection distant enough to maintain contact whilst also keeping an eye on how they fared through the years. A safeguard of sorts. The Cranes had lived in and around Maine from the time he and Louise had settled there and started their family together in the 1700s. It had been a peaceful life, that is until tragedy struck swift and sudden - tearing a family asunder in the grief that followed. They had lost Abby, and in the obsession that followed, Arthur had lost his remaining family to his own blindsightedness.

To say that he was shocked to see the spitting image of his own little girl skipping rope with friends at break would be… An understatement. It had taken several moments for him to regather his wits, that and hearing the teacher calling Katherine Crane to come inside. Katherine. Not Abigail. Not his darling Abby. But a Crane nonetheless… So there was a connection. A little affiliate research on the sides of the main case confirmed this. All the while the mysterious case continued to lead to nothing but twist after twist. Their quarry somehow evading them at every turn.

It was early evening, his usual walk home from the campus a few weeks after that particular discovery when it happened, a voice crying out into the chill evening air.

“Kat?! Kat!!” The tone was panicked, fearful - cutting through the quiet evening air and making his blood freeze in its veins. “She’s not in her room, she’s gone! Oh my god Aeden! Call the police… Call someone.” The door clattered open, and a woman in her forties appeared, face tear-stained and stricken “Kat!!”

Arthur hadn’t been able to stop himself, the cries stirring a bone-deep urge to help. No matter what. He fudged the truth a little, using his connection with Javier and affiliate liaison paperwork he kept in his bag to offer aid and gain entry to the scene before anyone else could arrive. The window sat wide open, a smear dirt staining the pristine windowsill of the little girl’s bedroom and a few crumpled leaves from a tree he’d seen a few times on his walks back home in the evenings. “Tell the police everything when they get here, I promise you Mrs Crane… I’ll find your daughter. No matter what.”

He wouldn’t fail. Not this time. With a promise made, Arthur swept into the falling night swallowing down the rising wave of nausea and deja vu. He wouldn’t fail this time. Not again.

Hunting was the only thing that made sense in Kaden’s world. At least it used to. Increasingly it was getting more and more complicated. But tracking a Camazotz didn’t pose any moral questions or obligations or any bullshit as far as he could tell. As soon as he heard a report about a “giant freaking bat” spotted on the edge of the woods, he was out the door and on the trail.

There wasn’t a whole lot to go on. Some branches down in the trees that easily could have been from giant wings. Blood spots lining the ground. Trampled brush in a few places. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Kaden to get started. Weapons on his back and more at his side, he started trekking into the forest to hunt and kill a monster to help protect the people of White Crest; the thing he was born and bred to do. It was so hard to remember that lately. A good kill would set him straight, realign his priorities. Help him figure out “his own code” as Theo put it.

Crouched down, looking for the next trace of the beast, listening deeply for any unusual sounds, Kaden jumped when he heard the call come in. Shit, forgot he had his radio turned on. Still, he listened. Missing girl, strange tracks, signs of a body being dragged. Sure, it could have easily been a typical kidnapping case but from the sound of it, something was off. Just off enough to suspect supernatural foul play. Especially given what he was tracking. Maybe these were separate incidents but it wasn't unheard of for the giant bat monsters to drag a human off with them, especially a child. Putain, he could be too late. He should pick up his pace.

Kaden had every reason to believe he was alone in the woods, especially this far. So the sound of footsteps wasn’t exactly comforting. Cautiously, he headed towards the sound, keeping note of the direction he strayed from his trail. He saw a man a little ways off, determined and seemingly singular minded in whatever the hell mission he was on. A death march, maybe. In these woods, at least. Once he got a little closer, Kaden realized he recognized the face. “Arthur?” he called out. What the hell was a professor doing here? Now? “Hey, you shouldn’t be out here. It’s not safe.”

Without more information, Arthur knew he had to prepare for a worst case scenario. Whatever he’d been following with Javier seemed to have some kind of vampiric inclination and while this wasn’t the creature’s typical MO it couldn’t just be coincidence that someone he was related to had been chosen at a similar timeframe as the other attacks. Plus the disappearance of the detective, without word or warning? Something strange was up there. Or perhaps it was just that. A really, really bad coincidence and Arthur was wading into something he really wasn’t prepared for. But when it came to family, regardless how distant you did whatever it took to save them.

Didn’t you?

There was no time to waste, but it would be suicide to go after whatever had taken Katherine from her bedroom without some form of equipment. After the mime, it had been a process of starting to collect the necessary tools to keep his home defended from any further incursions. Mainly a stockpile of stakes, holy water, a bow slung across one shoulder, his ancient cold iron handaxe that had been cared for across the centuries would deal with ghosts and fae alike. Grabbing the necessary things for whatever might go down tonight he left for the woods with all the speed in the world. All in all feeling as comfortable as anyone could do wading into the woods in the pitch dark of night after an unknown monstrosity that could almost certainly kill you and drain your internal organs without visible laceration. In hindsight, he should’ve called Freyja or someone, let them know what a ridiculous thing he was planning. But rational thought had fled his mind the moment he’d found out she’d been taken and in a way, he didn’t want Frey to know. She’d seen the disaster he’d become after Abigail and if this went wrong, there was no telling how he’d be able to face her again and say he’d willingly run headlong into this situation.

It was Abigail all over again, and Arthur could feel the lump of his heart in his throat at the mere thought of what had happened to his precious girl all those years before. An ancient tragedy, and not a tale he wished to see retold tonight.

What he wasn’t accounting for, as he followed the path of broken overhead branches further towards the Outskirts, was another person to be out here as well. Let alone Kaden. Of all the hunters… How had he ended up with this incompetent pie spying buffoon… He cut his thoughts off there as Kaden told him it wasn’t safe out here and a dark look crossed his typically amicable features, “no shit it’s not safe, a kid got taken by a fucking monster.”

Arthur was about the last person Kaden had intended to see out there. What he’d expected even less was his reaction. Was he still fucking marching on like he intended to be out here? Putain. What in the hell? Wasn’t he meant to be smart? “Hey!” he called out and reached for his shoulder, trying to stop him, to distract him from whatever singularity he was headed towards. It didn’t work. It was clear his mind was elsewhere, determined. Not an excuse for heading straight into danger. Then again, he saw the man had weapons on him. Alright, then. Didn’t strike him as a hunter and he’d never seen in him any capacity like that before in the few months he’d been here but appearances could be deceiving.

“I know that. I’m police. How do you know that?” He followed on the other man’s heels, hoping to get in front of his path, force him to stop. But only one of them seemed confused right now and it wasn’t the professor. “I got the call. Whatev--” Fuck. Did he know about the supernatural? Didn’t matter. “Whoever it is, whatever it is, it’s dangerous. What the hell are you going to do about it?” Another quick look up and down the man, at his weapons. They didn’t seem to live there attached to him the way Kaden’s did. Kaden’s holsters and sheaths were well worn, at home at his side and on his back. There was one exception of Arthur’s. An axe that looked anything but modern. His brow furrowed, staring at it a moment, before realizing he’d fallen behind. Kaden ran and put himself in front of Arthur and his path. “Go home. I don’t need you getting in the way of my hu--” Right. Not hunt. This was “police” work. “My assignment. This isn’t your call. You’re a civilian. Go home. I’ve got it.”

Thinking straight was not something Arthur was presently doing. Too many memories and thoughts swirled around in his mind, clouding his judgement and reasoning when it came to what he was about to do. But wasting time would hardly do. A little girl had been taken and if his past experience with the WCPD was anything to go by, she’d be dead by the time they ever got wind of where she might’ve been taken and it wasn’t as if they could deal with this… Perhaps a hunter… But then who did he know in town other than Adam? And he sure as heck wasn’t putting a kid in the line of fire… And to find another one would take more time than it he had to spare. So here he was, traipsing through the forest in search of whatever had taken Katherine and he suspected might’ve taken Javier too.

“You’re animal control,” that hardly qualified him as police in Arthur’s mind. Two separate divisions, associated yes but still distinctly different. Though he left the question of how he knew what was going on unanswered. It wasn’t worth wasting the breath right now. “Yeah, it is” his typically amicable tone was short and decisive, “so either you come with and help me get that kid back from it because I’m going after it regardless… I’ve been helping to track this thing for months now.” And what had come of it? The detective missing and now one of his descendents taken in the middle of the night… The wicked blade gripped in his hand glinted as he turned to give Kaden a long, searching look for but a moment as he continued to walk leaving Kaden to catch up. “Stop telling me what to do hunter,” proof enough that Arthur wasn’t going to pander around the bushes tonight “every moment you waste trying to tell me to do something we both know isn’t going to happen, the greater chance that thing is going to eat that girl.”

“So quit with the officer act, I’m not going home and two pairs of hands are better than one in these sorts of things.” As Kaden called him a civilian he huffed, wanting to bite back with something smart but instead he kept silent and carried on, hefting the familiar blade in his hand. “What weapons do you have?”

“Badge still says WCPD,” he said. “Remind me what the hell your badge says. That’s right. You don’t have one.” Sure, Kaden had sort of gotten a fast track through the academy, mostly due to the fact he was pretty sure they didn’t expect him to last longer than a month at best. And it wasn’t even that he particularly cared that much on a regular day but right now he was sticking to his guns. Including the one administered to him sitting in his truck.

Kaden stopped dead in his tracks at the word hunter. Hunter? He knew? Who told him? Did Nadia tell him? Blanche maybe? How the fuck did he kn-- Alright, sure, Kaden was out in the woods with a fucking areanel of weapons strapped to him but that wasn’t much different from how Arthur was looking right now. “I’m not a--” He bit his tongue. Couldn’t finish that lie, it was too much. “Alright let’s say I am a hunter. You’re sure as shit not. Why can’t you just leave it to someone capable of fighting whatever’s out there. I’d really like it if no one died today. Including you.” There was no doubt that Kaden’s words meant little to the professor. There were few times Kaden had seen this kind of sheer determination on someone’s face. Desperation mixed with vengeance and stubbornness. A fair few hunters had shown it going after a mark that had taken something or someone from them. He was pretty aware there was no stopping it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to point out how fucking stupid this was. “Fine. But if your sets of hands gets you or me killed I swear.” Shitty threat, but it was all he had. Not like he could kill a human, anyway. He really should have suspected that Arthur knew about the supernatural. He’d mentioned fae and knew to take weapons to the woods. Still, he fucking hated this idea

“I’ve got knives, pistol, shotgun. I’m sure you didn’t miss that one,” he answered as he reluctantly followed the other man on their joint death march. “Iron and holy water just in case. And a stake. But I was tracking a camazotz. Giant bat,” he clarified just in case. “I was already tracking it when I heard the call. I assumed it was connected. But if you know so much, tell me what we’re looking for and I’ll tell you what I’ve got.”

They walked a little longer, following whatever trail he seemed to be following. “So who the hell is she to you?” he asked. Had to be important if he was this fucking determined.

“Animal control, doesn’t make you police but it’s a good cover, considering...” Arthur gave Kaden another quick look, eyeing the things attached to his belt and back. No further remarks were made, however, you had to pick the battles you fought in and that wasn’t a debate he truly wanted to get into right now.

Seeing how Kaden seemed to stop dead, Arthur fought back the urge to heave a put upon sigh. “Look mate, your entire thing screams hunter, you’re in the woods late at night, you have christ knows how many stakes, probably some silver bullets judging by those guns. No point beating about the bush.” Would it keep Kaden up to pace? “Capable?” oh the things he wanted to say to that. “I’ll be fine, I’ve dealt with worse situations than this one, Plus, I’d hate to think I let you go out there to your death without helping.” He’d manage. He always had. Time and time again. Plus, it wasn’t as if he were ill equipped for handling… life or death situations. “This thing’s murdered eight maybe nine people already, it’s bloody fucking smart and so it’s evaded every effort to catch, track or murder it. It’s going to need more than one person to kill it.” That wasn’t desperation talking, it was pure logic. The threat was met with a deadpan look, “is that seriously what you’re going to try and level with me at? You need to get better insults, Kaden.”

As Kaden listed off the weaponry he had, Arthur ran a mental list. “Alright. Then between use we should have enough to deal with this thing.” He hefted the blade, the wicked edge catching the moonlight illuminating ancient looking runic patterning carved into the head while he explained, “cold iron and doused in holy water, just in case… Taking the head off most things tends to do the trick.”

He frowned a little at the mention of a camazotz, huh, so that was what they’d be tracking was it? “Can’t say I’ve had many encounters with them… Admittedly, I’m not sure what it was specifically but it’s been loose for several months. Detective Javier - federal agent dude? I was helping on his case until… well.” He made a face, and since Kaden worked at the police office he already no doubt knew of the federal agent’s disappearance. “Out of curiosity, what do they feed on?”

Arthur eyed the branches above, mindful of his foot placing to keep his tread soft. “A-- close family friend.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, though not the straight truth either and he wasn’t planning to elaborate on it any more than that. They walked for a little while longer, but Arthur couldn’t help one question he’d been pondering, “so how does a hunter end up dating a fae?” his tone lacked judgement, in fact, it was plain curiosity that coloured his words.

“Considering I can be transferred to a standard cop at any time I think it fucking does. Any cover is just a convenience.” Kaden was hardly the first hunter to find cover within a police department. He was sure he wouldn’t be the last. Hell, he’d seen a handful of officers at the Silver Bullet once or twice now. Not that any of it fucking mattered at the moment. “I don’t know you’re who’d I’d fucking have picked to help but fine. You want to come with me? Let’s go hunt a fucking monster. And try not to make it ten plus deaths on its hit count.” Still fucking hated this idea.

“Correct,” he said, eying the axe once more. “And if we run into one of the exceptions, we probably didn’t have a shot anyway.” Not a very comforting thought, but it was true all the same. “But you’re right, beheading normally works.” His stomach dropped thinking of Bea. Fuck. Not right now. Not the time.

“Javier?” Kaden realized how long it had been since he’d seen the agent. “I thought he left town. I mean I didn’t hear anything.” Or rather, he hadn’t noticed. Shit. “Anyway, camazotz feed on blood and dead animals, but they’re highly aggressive. Wouldn’t hesitate to hunt or carry a child away.” Hopefully that’s all it did. And the girl in question was still alive.

“Must be real close for all this trouble.” Kaden couldn’t say what it was, but something about the other man’s words struck him as a lie. Or a bend in the truth. Possibly just a stretch. Or a cover. Who knew. He wasn't sure it mattered. If he wanted to risk his life for nothing more than a family friend, that was his business.

“Because she wasn’t fae when we first started dating,” he said, trying not to let too much bite seep into his words. “I mean, she was. But she wasn’t, I don’t know, triggered yet or whatever they call it. She seemed human. In a lot of senses she was.” Kaden tried not to linger on how it was with Regan before her father died. Her warm skin, her racing pulse, no wings, no shattered glass, no throbbing eardrums. It hurt just a little bit every time he remembered, worse knowing how desperately she wanted to go back to being almost human. He couldn’t let himself want that. It was bad enough if one of them didn’t accept it, let alone both. It couldn’t be undone. The period for mourning that was past. At least for him.

There weren’t too many clues to follow on the way there. The forest was relatively quiet, but there were enough broken branches and a few deep scuffs and scrapes in the earth that looked like dragging that they were able to follow and pick through. After a while, Kaden stopped and put his arm out to stop Arthur, putting his finger to his lips. There was a sound. Something wholly inhuman. Hard to identify. Almost like a… “There’s a ticking sound, do you hear it?” he whispered. His brow furrowed. It didn’t sound like a camazotz. But he couldn’t say what it was, either.

No response was offered, antagonising Kaden and getting the other man’s heckles up wouldn’t be beneficial right now. So Arthur opted to keep his peace and mind his own for now. The fact Kaden seemed to give up on insisting he go away and leave this down to him was a step in the right direction.

“No probably not,” he agreed to the notion of them not having a chance if it was something they hadn’t come across. But at least they could give it their best shot… and well, Arthur could only hope that maybe he’d come back from this one. Though it wouldn’t be the first close call to go completely sideways. As they moved deeper into the woods the heavy scent of detritus and composting earth grew stronger, it was strangely comforting. Terrain he’d grown up walking and an environment he felt comfortable traversing.

“No, he vanished… His stuff is still at the station last I checked,” which if Kaden worked there gave some insight into how much attention he paid his coworkers “I think this thing got him.” What else could have? Actually… Starting to think along that line, there were a lot of things that could have gotten him. Not ideal. But here they were. “How do they feed?” he questioned glancing over to Kaden, “do they leave a mark? Or do they feed without leaving a trace… ‘Cause the thing I’ve been after seems to eat a person’s organs without leaving a single sign of laceration… It’s like they’ve been eviscerated without even being cut open.”

“Something like that,” he agreed but didn’t offer up anything further to clarify. It was his business why he was here and he didn’t particularly feel like sharing right now. What was interesting, was listening to what Kaden had to say about Regan. Mostly because he’d spoken regarding the issue with Nadia and it was something he wanted insight into. “So the faeness hadn’t been like- uh activated? Did her family not know or was she raised by humans?” that was curious, most fae were taken in or raised in the beliefs of their own unless they weren’t… “Does she understand what she is?”

Talk stopped as the grooves in the upturned ground grew deeper. Like whatever had come this way grew tired or simply couldn’t be bothered to carry whatever it had taken. Or maybe they were just near its nest… Quietly, Arthur inhaled the scent of damp earth and static that seemed to charge the air as though they stood on the edge of a brewing storm just waiting to break. The ticking was loud, as though a clock were right beside them except there was no glint of metal or anything of the sort. Weird. “Yeah… It’s… well, a couple of neighbours reported hearing ticking around the time of the murder.” He kept his voice quiet not wishing to give away their location if possible, “let’s keep downwind…” his eyes tracked the nearby foliage and route they’d been following which seemed to open up ahead into some kind of clearing “looks like it opens up ahead… Maybe we can circle around, get a look before we go in? If the kid’s in there… We’ll need to lure it away or else she might get caught in the crossfire.” And that was not something Arthur was willing to have happen. Abigail might not have survived but Katherine was going home to her parents. He’d damn well see to that.

“Camazotz?” Kaden asked. “They don’t exactly feed delicately. Not like a vampire. Mostly just tear things apart. They get pretty aggressive.” His mouth pulled into a thin line. It didn’t exactly add up to a giant bat monster. “Well then, guess we got two monsters, then. Because I know I was tracking a camazotz earlier.” Fuck. He rubbed his face a moment, trying to piece shit together. Grabbed children, removed organs. No trace. It could be some kind of vampire? Maybe? Didn’t sound much like fae, other than maybe a glaistig, but he had a feeling they were pretty messy eaters if he remembered correctly. Guess they’d have to find out together. He was sure this would all click when he saw what they were up against.

Kaden’s brow furrowed. He didn’t really understand why Arthur cared. And how did he know about activation? It wasn’t something he was familiar with really as a hunter. Not that he was a warden or anything. There was something he wasn’t saying. A few things. He was sure of that. “Guess not. Her family is her biological one as far as I know, if that’s what you’re asking. And they sure sound human to me, though. She barely will say the word fae but she sort of gets it. She knows shit’s different.” There was no way she understood it, though. But that hardly felt like his fucking business.

The more of the tracks they followed, the farther away the sound got. Kaden squinted his eyes, tried to dig down deep into his well of knowledge. He’d studied so many different species as a kid under his parent’s guidance. He knew he learned about something like this “The softer that ticking, the closer we are,” he whispered to his current companion. But shit, nothing else was there. Putain de fucking merde. He sighed and had to accept that was all that was coming as he followed the tracks downwind. For as useless as he was sure the guy would be later on, his ideas weren’t completely out of line yet. “And how do you suggest we lure it out without harming the kid? If it’s feeding, it might be too fucking late.”

It didn’t add up. What Kaden described and the things Arthur had seen with his own eyes didn’t amount in his mind to this being the same creature. Which doubled the danger tonight. Either they were up against a camazotz as Kaden suggested or it was some other fiend. Or maybe even both. “Ah skide,” he muttered under his breath the thought not sitting all too well with him. One creature yeah maybe two? That changed things. But then Arthur thought of Katherine, and of Abigail and the flare of resolve settled once more. They’d just have to figure it out.

In all honesty, it was curiosity, attempting to piece together the fragments of information he held the tethers of and frame them into something that made some sort of rational sense of a situation he really only had an outline of. But the clarification gave some pieces to fill in a larger picture. “Huh,” interesting but while his curiosity wished to poke for more information Arthur got the sense it would only provoke Kaden’s ire which wasn’t something he particularly wanted to do right now.

He shifted the bow off his shoulder moving and handling the weapon with a familiar ease. Some things never left you. Still, Arthur kept low mindful of his foot-placement; he hadn’t stalked a creature in a fair while but the memories of the necessary steps hadn’t entirely forgone him. Kaden’s information was useful, and Arthur tilted his head to listen out for the ticking that seemed to grow a little louder as they moved around the clearing.

Eventually, Arthur stopped crouched on the edge of the clearing illuminated by the moon filtering through broken branches overhead. There were scrape marks near a hole in the ground, likely where this creature had gone. They needed to lure it out. Maybe his own blood? Would that entice the creature? But then again luring it straight to them seemed like a ridiculously risky plan. “Maybe,” he agreed softly his eyes fixing on a shape that turned out to be a deer stepping into the clearing; a potential distraction revealing itself then “or maybe we need to give it something else to focus on.” This thing fed on organs, so blood was bound to get its attention right? “Draw it out with that, then we ambush it when it comes out to investigate?”

Arthur knocked an arrow and drew the string a little slowly, taking aim but holding the shot until he heard Kaden’s verdict on the idea. It wasn’t as if going into the hole was anything but a suicide mission. Better to utilise the element of surprise if they could.

There was no doubt in Kaden’s mind that the hole they found led directly to the monster in question, whatever it was. The ticking was so soft it was almost a whisper. They were close. Or rather, it was close. So close Kaden was sure it had to have an idea they were there. If it didn’t, it was too deep into feeding on that child and they were far too late. At this point there was no way they were still hunting the camazotz, he’d have to double back for that another day most likely. He sighed looking at it. Hopping down was nothing but that death wish he’d snipped at Arthur about earlier. Before he could work together a plan, see if he had anything he could throw down there, the other man was pointing out the deer nearby. Kaden sighed as his mouth pulled into a thin line. “Blood, sure.” Luring it out was a good idea, no doubt. But if this was a vampire and one that favored organs to boot, he had a hard time believing any animal would satiate it. Arthur has already taken aim. “Go ahead. But if it’s got the kid down there, it doesn’t really need a snack.”

The lure wasn’t a horrible plan all the same. Kaden was hardly a slayer. He knew a lot about a good number of vampire species and while he couldn’t recall the specifics on this ticking one or the proper name, he knew damn well no deer was going to remotely compare to a human. In that case, it seemed like one simple option presented itself. And even that was a gamble. Kaden pulled out his knife and sliced down on top of his arm. A few times, making sure to tilt the blood pooling out of his flesh down the hole. He winced as the sting of the wound hit him, but it was fine. He’d heal fast enough. And the adrenaline kick of the pain didn’t hurt to have on his side. Once he was pretty sure a sufficient amount had slid on down as far as it would go, Kaden listened and heard movement in the distance. “Hide. Get in positions. Something,” he whispered to Arthur as he scrambled to find some cover away from the hole, get a weapon out and ready. Hopefully.

Arthur’s eyes cut aside with Kaden’s remark, his lips thinned in mild discontent considering he didn’t exactly see the hunter suggesting anything useful right now. Instead of letting the arrow fly he eased the tension on the string and lowered his aim. He’d been about to ask what better idea Kaden had to get this thing out of there when a line of crimson spilled forth over Kaden’s palm. Arthur’s gaze switched between the blood and the hole. Gods did this man have a death wish?

It had been a momentary thought that had crossed his mind to employ but considering the point was to lure the damn thing out away from them this seemed entirely counterintuitive considering it would lure the creature straight to them and a head on fight was not a thing he was looking for or in all honesty prepared for.

But here they were.

Arthur shifted back trying to put some distance between him and the hole, taking refuge behind a nearby rock.

The ticking noise grew momentary louder and louder and louder still. Had they scared it away? Strange… He strained to listen, but from where he crouched it only seemed to get louder.

Why would it run?

Unless…. Maybe there were other exits...

It was too late that he saw the flurry of movement from the shadowed foliage just behind where Kaden crouched. Shit… “Kaden look out behind you!” but the shout was too late as in a sweeping black and grey blur the Aswang launched itself at Kaden slashing its taloned fingers in a flurry of strikes to try and rake him limb from limb.

The air stood still a moment as Kaden waited behind some brush nearby, the ticking growing louder a moment before cutting out. He heard it before he saw it. Not the ticking, but the rustle of movement behind him. Kaden turned on his heel, knife in hand, ready for whatever he was abou to face.

It was like time slowed down. He saw the talons lash out and he threw himself to the ground, rolling to the side out the way. This was the part Kaden was trained for, it came naturally by now. The split second decisions, reading the creatures movements and responding accordingly. One of the claws caught on his back, ripping into his skin, but it was nothing more than added fuel to his fire by now as he pushed himself up, slashing his knife into the legs of the monster, digging it in and pulling the blad as deep and far as he could. The creature screamed, letting loose an unnatural wail. Funny, it didn’t bother him much. It was surely no banshee.

His lips curled up into a smile as he dodged again, ready to bring the knife down for a second strike when the talons lashed out again. Shit. He ducked. Too confident. But now he was at its side, almost flanking it; Kaden reached in and jammed his knife behind its knee, twisting it for full impact. Good luck walking now, connasse.

The vampire wailed and flapped its wings as it floated up.

Putain .

Still, this gave him a second. Vampire. Clearly. Couldn’t say which one. Rare, he remembered that much. But he’d bet a fucking stake would do the trick either fucking way. He swapped his knife for a stake as quick as possible while also reaching back for the shotgun. He flipped the safety off, it was already loaded, and he started trying to shoot that piece of shit out the sky. It was fast as hell, but he could tell he clipped it once or twice.

Hopefully Arthur was checking on that girl. If she was even still alive. Best to get her the fuck out of here.

It seemed that Kaden had more of a handle on the situation than Arthur had admittedly anticipated. So when he rolled and dodged out of the slashing range of whatever this thing was- and damn was it fast. It was admittedly more impressive than perhaps Arthur might’ve give n Kaden credit earlier in their encounters. But here they were and if Kaden had a handle here then…

Arthur turned his attention to the tunnel, sliding down the verge and out of the bushes towards the gaping darkness that penetrated the compacted earth leading to Gods knew where. Who knew how far it went down and whether the child would even still be down there but he had to search. Otherwise what was the point?

The sounds of mud and branches cracking at the commotion behind him continued and Arthur balled his fingers up in a fist before snapping his fingers together the friction sparking flame to life in his palm and lighting up the entrance which he could now see was smeared with dark black patches… No doubt where other meals of this creature had been dragged on the nights it hadn’t raided town and the smell was enough to make him wrinkle his nose in disgust.

But there was no time to waste, stepping forwards Arthur’s foot slipped a little on some loose earth on the sharp decline of the tunnel. Bracing himself he crouched and shuffled forwards, slipping here and there on the traversal, down and down to the occasional ledge until the burrow flattened out and grew in height to the point Arthur could stand at a hunch the shadows driven away by the flame in his palm. There was no noise down here, save the echoes of his inhale and exhale. “Ab-” no, that wasn’t right “Katherine?” he called holding the flame up but hearing no response.

Shit .

Without another word Arthur plunged forwards into the network of tunnels calling out and hoping for some kind of response.

It was a couple of minutes walking when he heard it: sniffles and short-sharp snivels of a child trying not to cry. Picking up his pace, occasionally bumping his head on a few lumps of the ceiling Arthur had to drop down to his knees and squeeze through a narrower passage that widened into a small underground cavern. The shadows bouncing off the walls and illuminating the three-by-three metre ish space along with a little girl in muddied gryffindor pyjamas smeared with blood huddled amongst a pile of strewn bones.

“Katherine?” Arthur tried to keep the panic from his voice, keep it level, calm as he crawled nearer pausing when she flinched and holding his other hand up as a scared pair of gunmetal grey eyes peered back at him. Eyes he’d seen countless times in a mirror. “Hey now… Your mummy and daddy sent me… My name’s Arthur.”

A few more sniffles followed before she lifted her head, fear plain as day in her features “is the scary monster gone?”

“My brave friend is fighting it…” slowly Arthur moved forwards, “but we need to get out of here hm? Get you home. I’m going to need you to be brave.” His eyes went to the nightclothes, “brave like Hermione hm? Can you do that for me?”

The little girl’s eyes went from his face to the fire floating above his palm, it took a few but her young mind seemed to process the options of a magic man here to help or an angry monster. With a slow nod she unballed and slowly crawled over, taking Arthur’s one outstretched and unflaming hand. “‘Mione always has a plan… Beat the bad bad monsters…”

“That’s right… Come on, let’s beat the bad monsters.” Arthur stooped, scooping her up and heading back along the route they’d come as quickly as possible. Gods he hoped Kaden was capable enough to pull this off.

Kaden was reloading when he saw a flash of motion. The professor with a death wish must have gone off to find the kid. Good.

Less good was the fact that when he turned his attention back to where the monster had been, there was no monster. Putain.

He felt the claws swipe at his back and screamed out in pain, curling away from the attack as best he could before reeling around to get a good look at it. Before Kaden could take another shot, the monster had pinned him to the ground and was going for his throat. Not fucking today. Kaden took the butt of the handle and rammed it at the monster’s head as he struggled to keep it away from his arteries. The beast squealed and seemed a bit stunned. It was a split second, but that was all Kaden needed to jam his knee into the creature and push it off him. It was strong, he still only made about a few inches of room for him to scramble away, but it was enough. He pulled out his knife and dug the blade in wherever he could get a piece. The talons were at him again, but this time his knife hit the wings, straight through. He yanked the blade down with all he had, even as he felt a claw dig into his leg. Blood spilled and sprayed as the monster tried to flinch and flap its wing. There was no escape now, not for either of them.

Kaden took the mere moments he had until the beast came at him again to reach for his stake. The talons dug deeper into his leg and he could feel the monster’s breath on his neck, inches away from tearing at his flesh when Kaden jammed the wooden stake into its heart. For a second, he thought he’d missed and he was sure that the teeth were about to sink into him, not even to feed, but to kill. Then, the monster paused and shuttered, then turned to dust.

As the dust settled and fell on top of him, Kaden collapsed farther onto the ground. Everything fucking hurt. Right, yeah, that was a lot of injuries. They were all pulsing now. Fuck. He’d have to get off of the ground eventually. “You still alive?” he called out to Arthur. If he was even still around. Kaden had no fucking clue. For all he knew, he was talking to himself. “What about the kid?” Maybe if they were there, it’d inspire him to sit up and assess his injuries, get up off the floor. Maybe. Ow.

It was a struggle up the shingle laden slope and several times his footing slipped; threatening to give way and plummet them back down into the depths of the tunnels. It was harder trying to do this one handed, but here they were. Arthur could hear the fight; impacts of what he could only assume was a blade or some weapon Kaden had brought along and the wails of a creature still continuing to fight. Well, credit to him for surviving this long. Suddenly the friction of his boots gave way and Arthur cursed reaching out blindly for the wall in the hopes of latching onto something.

His fingers hooked in on a divot, rocks crumbling down behind them as Katherine whimpered; her eyes screwed up tight. There was no helping the grunt as the jagged rock sliced into his palm and blood welled between his fingers. Gods he wasn’t built for this stuff anymore. He never had been and yet he always ended up getting into situations that called for brute strength. Typical. Maybe he needed to take Mer up on that gym offer. Still he persevered, arms and shoulders burning he gritted his teeth and hauled them both up and over immediately pushing the child away from the entrance and rolling over to survey the beast on top of Kaden. “Bloody hell--” he muttered scrambling to his feet and coaxing Kat up “go hide by the rocks okay? Wait until the monster’s gone.”

The little girl fled without question and Arthur unhooked the axe from his belt about to charge in…

Right as the monster exploded in a cloud of grey dust. Picked up and scattered by a wind that howled through the clearing. “Well… That’s one way to do it,” he murmured, shunting the axe and fixing it back into his belt as he walked over. “Bit shaken but she’s okay...“ He stopped near Kaden, summoning a flame to his palm as he sought any patches of blood noticing the one on Kaden’s leg. “Did it get you anywhere else?” he asked, shifting to kneel and inspect the wound, pulling the tattered material open to inspect the gash that oozed blood. Wiping his mud speckled brow on the sleeve of his jacket to clear his eyes. “Just stay there for a sec, let me see this,” he set his free hand that wasn’t illuminating the area to one side of the wound, willing a few tears that came from natural emotional relief that they’d managed to get here in time. The dripped onto the wound, sizzling for a moment before vanishing as the muscle and sinew started to thread itself back together. When he was sure the wound was going along on track he swiped his eyes again and sat back looking over towards the rocks. “Kat! You can come out now… The monster’s gone.”

A moment passed before the young girl hesitantly shuffled from behind the cover. Matted raven hair, dark, a messy tangle, and bright gunmetal grey eyes. An unknown family trait. “Did you get it?”

“My friend here did,” Arthur looked at Kaden offering a hand out for him to take to get back to his feet “I told you he would.”

“She’s okay? Shit. That’s unexpected.” Kaden’s eyes went wide a second. “But good! That’s good. Just sort of used to worst case scenarios.” Kaden earned a fucking nap after this. But the forest floor wasn’t the place for that. He was about to stand up when Arthur was standing over him, telling him to stay still. “I’m fine, I can assess my own wounds, thanks,” he said, going to sit up. Kaden sighed when it was clear that he wasn’t going to be given that option. Every instinct he had was to kick out as Arthur examined his leg; he fucking hated having anyone tend his wounds. It made him entirely too vulnerable and helpless. It also made him stupid to not let someone take care of his injuries but allt he same. But as Kaden looked up at Arthur, his brow furrowed. Was the man’s hand on fire? That was definitely fire. Coming out of his hand. “ Putain de merde,” he grumbled mostly to himself. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a spell--” The creases in his forehead only deepened as he felt small drops of something hit his leg. And then the pain fading. “Okay, then…” Kaden trailed off, trying to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. Flame hands, healed leg, and it looked like Arhur was wiping something off his face. He opened his mouth to ask when he called over the child. A little girl. Dark hair and light eyes. And something a little familiar, though he couldn’t pinpoint it. Still, there went all opportunity to try and get some answers. He knew what he wanted to ask couldn’t happen in front of a kid. But he had a hunch his current companion was no moral human but something else entirely.

He was glad to see her alive. By all accounts, she shouldn’t be. It was good when hunting actually worked the way it was meant to. Monster slain, humans saved, no one dead, all was well. He took Arthur’s hand and let the man pull him up, wincing as the scrapes across his back throbbed with pain. Guess he was going to be sleeping on his side for a while. “Yup, monster’s dead. You won’t have to worry about her anymore.” That wasn’t true. Kid would see this in her nightmares for years to come, no doubt. For a second he considered leaning down to get closer to her level. Then his back told him that was completely out of the question. “I bet you were really brave down there. And now Mr. Arthur is going to make sure you get home safe and sound, right?” His last question was directed more towards the adult. The likely very supernatural adult. Part of him wanted to object, tell Arthur he had this handled. Trusting that a supernatural could care for a human was hard for him. Even given, well, everything. Sure, he’d healed Kaden, helped rescue the kid, but maybe the healing was just blackmail, waiting to be collected as payment later. And who knew who this girl really was to him anyway. Still, he wasn’t in much shape to argue. And he wouldn’t do it in front of a child, not if he could help it. She had enough trauma for one night. “Come on, let’s get back. We’ll have time to talk later. Don’t need to spend any more time in these woods than we have to. “

“I bet,” how many worst case scenarios? Flashes of the dead crossed Arthur’s mind, some collateral damage over the years and others premeditated in their demise. Too many hunters that had left a sour taste in his mouth, but they had their uses on occasion. Arthur ignored the comments, a smear of mud across his face from the brush of his hand obfuscating any evidence of what he’d done to fix Kaden’s leg only that he’d fixed it. It was a dangerous game to play perhaps, but he’d rather not be responsible for leaving him out here unable to walk to be bait for whatever else might just happen to fancy a midnight snack. Arthur had some morals and centuries of a keen sense to leaving no person behind meant often he felt compelled to help even if he had no particular reason or benefit to.

With a grunt of effort he hauled Kaden up to his feet stepping back but lingering close enough towards the child with a degree of protectiveness that he didn’t care or seem inclined to explain. Not right here and possibly not even in the future. But there were lingering concerns. The events of tonight would have repercussions for who knew how long? But that was an issue to deal with in the fallout. Right now there was only one thing of importance.

“Back home,” Arthur said eyeing Kaden for a moment and wondering just what was going through his mind. There was a moment of tension before he chose to let it go, perhaps they could both walk away from this though a part of him doubted that. Turning towards the young girl he bent and scooped her up, propping her on his hip where she buried her face against his shoulder.

Quietly, the trio turned back towards the darkness of the forest naught but ash and dust left behind them. Javier’s work here complete and some degree of justice served.

#p: kaden #the hunt #para #blood tw #kidnapping tw #injury tw #// WOO THiS WAS FUN

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Conversations with Dead People || Ariana & Kaden

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @letsbenditlikebennett ft. a special dream brought to life guest  SUMMARY: When Ariana goes to Kaden to drop off a fresh batch of treats for Abel, she asks him some serious questions and some dreams come to life.  CONTENT: Grief

With the full moon that recently passed, Ariana had a fresh new batch of venison dog treats for Luna and all her other favorite dogs in town. Making dog treats served as a good distraction to the feeling of lead in her chest weighing her down as she tried her damnedest not to think of Winn. Everything was still too fresh and she needed to keep her mind occupied to keep from totally losing it. With dog treats done and stew in the slow cooker, she had decided to deliver Abel’s treats over to Kaden’s. He was expecting her, but the sense of dread she felt about seeing him wouldn’t go away. She had to ask though. She didn’t smell him on the scene, but something about the scent near the gunfire was off. Familiar but not at the same time. She needed to know it wasn’t him. She needed to know that not letting Winn speak up about Kaden the last time the pack got together didn’t cost Winn his life. She couldn’t keep carrying the blame in her that two people she loved died because of her careless and naive actions. The circles under her eyes kept growing darker and she knew they were still puffy as she knocked on his door. “Hey,” she greeted more quietly than normal as he opened the door, “I wanted to bring these by for Abel.” She held up the ziploc bag full of venison jerky and biscuits. “I was also hoping you’d have a bit of time to talk?” She looked up to him now, pleading evident in her tired eyes. 

Abel always knew when someone was at the door before Kaden did. “Hold on, calm down, stop barking,” he said to the dog as he got up from the couch. Ariana told him she was coming over to deliver treats, should be a quick hand off. It didn’t make sense to him how much he seemingly liked the girl. She was kind and caring and a pain in the ass a lot of times, not unlike Blanche. But she was also a werewolf. Very much so. He felt the chill down his spine before his hand had even reached the doorknob. Putain, he couldn’t make sense of it. Why did he care at all? And why was she being nice to him? He knew why. Deep down he did. Celeste. Something about her sister tethered them together. But at a certain point, when was it still respecting his fallen friend and just being friends with a werewolf? Kaden wasn’t sure. And he was going to keep putting off that question. Because this was going to be a quick and simple hand off. “Hey,” he said as he opened the door. Shit. Why did she look so rough? No. It didn’t matter. “Thanks for the treats.” He was about to take the bag and close the door, Abel’s nose nuzzling out around his side, trying desperately to push his way to the girl for pets. “Abel, stay back, we’re not-- Wait, you were?” His brow furrowed, mouth pulled into a thin line. Shit, she really did look upset. He could still say no. Say he was busy. Tell her to go away. But he looked in her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, sure, come in.”

There was always a certain hesitation that came with their in person interactions that threw Ariana off guard. She guessed it wasn’t too surprising considering what they both were. By nature, they were supposed to hate each other, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to hate someone her sister had cared for. Especially, when it bridged the gaps between their two worlds in the way. She had to believe that Kaden saw her as a person, it was clear he wanted to keep her out of harm’s way and that wasn’t just some loyalty to Celeste. It didn’t put her stomach at ease though. Part of her wanted to cling to the idea that he’d never be so reckless as to shoot a wolf in human form point blank in the middle of town, especially as a cop, but she had to know. “Yeah,” she answered, her voice still sounding ragged from lack of sleep and too many tears cried. She followed him into his apartment and reached a hand out for Abel to sniff. A weak smile formed on her lips as he seemed eager to greet her. She gave his head a few gentle pets before flopping onto Kaden’s couch. She fidgeted with her hands a moment, not entirely ready to dive into the questions she had, but she knew putting it off was only going to increase the tension. “I,” she started and decided to look up to him, “I don’t want to accuse you of anything because I don’t really think you’d-- I mean you’re a cop, you wouldn’t just shoot someone in the middle of town even if they were a wolf, right?” She did her best to fight the tears that were threatening to spill over. Whatever the truth was, she needed to deal with it. Nothing was going to change the fact her friend was still dead, but at least she’d know if she really did need to put some distance between herself and Kaden. 

Kaden’s mouth pulled into a thin line as he pulled the door open to let her in, shepherding Abel behind him. It didn’t matter much, the dog was immediately at her side, asking for attention. At least one of them was perfectly at ease with the whole situation. As she parked herself on the couch, he crossed his arms and leaned up against the chair across the way, still standing. It felt wrong, the idea of getting comfortable while it felt like ants were crawling down his spine. As much as he wanted sometimes to forget what she was, the world would never let him. Maybe it was for the best. His head tilted and he leaned in a bit as she fumbled, trying to find the words she was looking for before she did. And really, he should have seen it coming. “That’s what you wanted to ask,” he said painly, looking away a moment, trying to keep from rolling his eyes even a little. He was so fucking tried of fielding this question, but she was clearly upset, there didn’t seem to be a reason to twist the knife in if he could avoid it. “No, it wasn’t me.” He clenched his jaw and held back that he wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot Winn Woods as a wolf at any moment, especially knowing what he knew. “You’re right. I’m not stupid enough to shoot someone in the middle of the day right out in the middle of town.” He couldn’t tell why being asked if he killed a wolf was getting under his skin like this. Because he would have killed that wolf. And he wasn’t particularly upset that he was gone. And yet, somehow being asked over and over again whether or not he did it dug into him a little more. “What if I was, Ari? What then?” he asked, arms still crossed, eyes averting hers. It was probably stupid to ask. And not the time. But the question kept eating at him.

Any relief that it wasn’t Kaden who killed Winn quickly faded when Ariana realized whoever did was still out there. It wasn’t a comforting thought. Who was to say she wouldn’t be shot leaving the kids’ soccer practice one day. She didn’t believe it was right or that she had deserved as much, but neither had Winn. She nodded along slowly and remarked, “I didn’t think you did, I just…” She wasn’t quite sure. Her mind was tired and weary which made it harder to explain what was going on, but she could try. “I guess I just had to know it wasn’t my,” she cut herself off. Would it have really been her fault? Winn had cautioned anyone Kaden hurt after she insisted on not putting a target on his head was on her. Was she wrong to trust him? She wished more than anything Celeste was here. All she wanted to do was keep a part of Celeste alive with her and it was growing increasingly difficult when the world kept wanting to stomp out any shred of optimism and hope she had left. She shifted uncomfortably on the couch and it seemed the dog picked up on her tension. His next question was loaded and she had no idea what the answer was. “Honestly,” she answered, “I don’t really know-- I wouldn’t” She wouldn’t what? Hurt him? That much was apparent, she didn’t have it in her. Even if the belief she had in him becoming a better person was shattered, she still couldn’t kill him. Would she stop others from trying? She still couldn’t figure as much out. “I couldn’t hurt you. Which maybe that makes me stupid and naive or whatever the hell else has been implied when I didn’t let a bunch of wolves put an actual target on your head, but I’m just glad it wasn’t you. I’m glad it wasn’t my fault he’s gone. Celeste already--” She found it hard to finish the sentence as her voice cracked. Celeste being gone had been her fault as much as everyone liked to convince her it wasn’t. If she hadn’t insisted on staying in this stupid town, they’d be somewhere new and maybe she’d have to say goodbye to her friends, but Celeste would still be there. 

Ariana hadn’t meant to let the tears well up in her eyes, but confronting this was hard and his question made her think of all the ways her own actions had cost her the people she loved. As she reached a hand to rub her eyes before any could fall, she let out a small gasp. She clutched the edges of her jacket sleeves and blinked a few times. She was still there somehow. This must have been a dream. She pinched herself and was still in the same room. She gave her face a small slap, willing herself to wake up if this was in fact a dream, but it turned out it wasn’t. Celeste was there wearing the same floral t-shirt she’d worn so many times before with a sad smile on her face. She’d seen her this way in dreams plenty of times, but she was awake now, wasn’t she? “Kaden,” she breathed out barely above whisper, “Turn around.” 

Kaden resisted the urge to question why she had to ask him if she didn’t think it was him. She was just a kid. Sure, she was a werewolf, but sitting on his couch was a teenage girl on the brink of tears, too. He shifted, uncomfortable, not sure if he should offer comfort or just carry on as he was. Things were so much simpler when he just killed werewolves and didn’t let them into his life. Making exceptions complicated the rules. Along with everything else. Sometimes he wondered if his life wouldn’t have been better had he never met Celeste. No. The thought alone felt like poison, guilt seeped through for even considering it. There’s no way that was true. But if that wasn’t true, then it still left him here. Kaden continued to stand there, planned to let her sort out her feelings before jumping in. But then she elaborated. “When you what?” The creases in his forehead deepened as he tried to take on the full weight of what she said. “Hold on, a bunch of wolves knew I was a hunter? Did you tell them? But wait you stopped them from-- They were going to--” There were too many things stirring around inside him. He couldn't sort through the emotions bubbling up. Anger. That was easy to identify. But something else. Hurt? Was that… Fuck it, didn’t matter. Emotions weren’t productive. Answers first. He could figure out how the hell to feel about any of this later.

His fingers dug into his palm as he held his hand in a fist, arms still crossed in front of him, trying to keep it that way. Kaden should just leave her be. Let this interaction end and then keep some distance, not further complicate things. But putain, seeing her like that… His arms fell away and he took a tentative step towards her when she slapped herself. “Ari? Uh, what are you do--” His brow furrowed as she addressed him. “What? Turn a-- What are you talking about? Ari what are you--” He shook his head a little, her eyes clearly looking past him. Right. He slowly, carefully, pivoted on his heel to look behind him. And there she was. “Celeste?” His jaw fell open and he stood in stunned silence a moment. Was she a-- But she was-- She’d moved on. She had to. Right? She had to have moved on. And even then, since when could he see gh-- Kaden stumbled back and tripped over his coffee table and onto the floor as he scrambled away. He cursed and grumbled to himself before saying. “It can’t be. Ari, she-- It can’t be. ...Can it?”

The frustration began to seep in when Kaden didn’t recognize she’d done him a favor. Ariana narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, wanting to fight, even though it wouldn’t make her feel better at the end of the day. Winn would still be dead. Instead, she just grumbled, “No, I didn’t tell them you were a hunter-- I wouldn’t do that to you. Another wolf that you shot wanted to tell everyone. He’s dead now anyway so guess it doesn’t fucking matter.” She really needed him to meet her halfway here. Everyone advised her against having anything to do with him, but she still believed in him anyway. It’d be nice if he could act like she had done him a solid and protected him when that was what she was done, but all of that faded away when he said her name. When he saw that she was there, too. It couldn’t be though, right? Blanche would have seen her before now. If she was hanging around as a ghost, Ariana refused to believe she wasn’t with her so she told herself Celeste was at peace. If that was the case, how was she here? “You see her too,” Ariana questioned in a hushed voice. 

Celeste’s figure took a few steps forward and Ariana felt her breath catch in her throat. Everything in her was screaming to reach out. Run and hug her. Do literally anything besides sit here dumbfounded, but she couldn’t shake that this wasn’t real. That if she reached out to touch her, she’d only fade away. All of that melted away when she spoke in the same gentle voice she used so many times before. “It’s me,” she said softly placing a hand on Ariana’s shoulder. It was enough for Ariana to give into the tears that had been threatening to spill over. She nearly left off the couch and into Celeste’s arm, burying her head in her chest and relishing in the familiar feeling of her sister running her hands over her hair. She was terrified to let go, terrified she’d wake up and everything would still be the same. “Shhh, you’ll be okay, Ari.” A few more pats on the head and Ariana finally pulled away. It sounded like her. Her body language was the same, but the question of how haunted her. “How are you here,” Ariana pressed, desperate for answers a not quite ghost wasn’t able to provide. “I’m not sure,” Celeste answered and turned to Kaden. She looked between her sister and her friend, “You’ve both come a long way I see.” She reached out to Kaden now, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and noted, “Nice bracelet.”

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m just trying to follow what happened! You dumped a lot of shit at once, putain! Like that there was a gathering of werewolves standing around deciding if they should throw my name into a pile to kill me,” Kaden spat back. He paused, pulled his mouth in a thin line and huffed out a breath through his nose. He shouldn’t be lashing out at her. She was upset and angry and falling into it himself wasn’t going to help matters. Still he could feel the pin pricks along his spin and rolled his shoulders back to try and roll away the tension. “I’m not trying to-- I’m just trying to figure out what you’re talking about.” If only he had some of Celeste’s patience right about now. It might do them both some good. 

While he craved some help from her, the last thing Kaden expected to see was Celeste’s form. Right there in front of him. Talking to Ari. He wanted to watch the girl’s reaction, see if she noticed anything off, make sure they were on the same page, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his friend. It didn’t make any damn sense. The creese in his brow deepened as her hand rested on his shoulder. “What? How? You--” He bit into his lip, trying to focus on the pain enough to hold back the tears pricking at his eyes. His eyes followed hers down to his wrist and back. Right. “Thanks.” No. Too late. Tears were coming. Kaden pressed his eyes shut and blinked what he could away. And crazy enough, she was still there when he opened his eyes. It wasn’t possible, right? He’d wanted to see her so desperately for months but now that she was there in front of him, he didn’t know what to say. All the questions he had and conversations he’d wished for faded from his memory. On top of that, he still wasn’t convinced this was real. He pushed himself up and slowly started scooting closer to Ari. Just in case this wasn’t really Celeste. “How do we know it’s you? I mean-- The bracelet. But--” How could they be sure?

There was no chance to explain herself even though Ariana could understand where Kaden was coming from. She couldn’t focus on that with Celeste here. There had been so much that happened in the past few months that she had been dying to share with Celeste. Now that she finally had the chance, she was drawing a blank. She searched for a flaw in her form or body language that would give away a fake, but everything about her was just as she remembered. She was afraid to blink, that she’d open her eyes again and she’d just be gone. Tears were still present in her eyes and it was clear Kaden had a fresh wave coming in, too. Neither of them had expected this, but she didn’t want it to end. “Is it really you? You smell like… well, you,” she murmured, still unsure of this whole situation. This wasn’t possible, right? Impossible things happened in White Crest all the time and she wanted more than anything for this to be one of those things. 

Ariana looked to Celeste expectantly who had the same calm demeanor she’d always known. Celeste looked between them and Ariana shifted uncomfortably. Too much emotion was pulling up inside of her. With her gaze finally settling on Ariana, she answered, “You have a jagged scar on your right shoulder from when you fell out of a tree. You were eight and we’d been living in New Mexico at the time.” The memory one was a fond one and she added teasingly, “You refused to sit still as I stitched you up.” Ariana nodded slowly knowing that she never shared this story with anyone else and hadn’t just been thinking about it. That meant it had to be her. ��I don’t know how you’re here, but I-- Please, stay,” she practically pleaded. Celeste frowned slightly, “I don’t know if I can, but I’m here now. I know I gave you that bracelet before I… I’m sorry if the arrival was untimely. So what exactly am I interrupting here?” 

Every part of Kaden wanted to believe this was his friend back talking to him, some piece of her there to comfort them both. But he continued to inch closer to Ari in case this was all a trick, something fucked up spat out by this town to mess with them. The more she talked, however, the more he felt as if that wasn’t the case. But why was she here as a ghost? And they could see her. It didn’t sit right. At all. But he had needed to talk to her so many times and likely Ariana had even more moments like that, countless most likely. If he wanted it to be real, it was hard to fathom how desperately she wanted-- no, needed this to be true. Pushing aside the appeals to logic came easier every second that passed. 

“It’s-- It’s alright,” Kaden said, pushing past the wobble in his voice. “I tried. I really tried to warn you. I’m so sorry, I tried. I saw them. I should have stopped them in that bar. I could have done something and I didn’t--” The words came falling out of his mouth faster than he had a chance to evaluate them. The lump in his throat cut him off and he wiped away the stray tears with the back of his hand. “Sorry, I-- Sorry. You’re just interrupting…” What even was this? He couldn’t say. His glance caught Ariana’s. How could he explain what was going on to the ghost of his dead friend when he didn’t even know. “Ari came to bring treats for Abel. And then we, uh, talked. She had questions. For me.” He was going to leave the rest to the werewolf to explain to the ghost. “But you-- Did you not move on? I was hoping-- I mean I thought you would. Is something wrong? Why can we see you?”

It felt as if her head was spinning and Ariana didn’t feel firmly planted on the ground. More than anything, she wanted this to be real. It felt real and it made her heart feel as if it could burst out of her chest at any moment. Yet there she was, the calm in the storm that somehow sent her spiraling and grounded her all in one fell swoop. Kaden’s admission tugged at her own heartstrings. He blamed himself, too. Reeled over the details of things he could have done differently just as she had these past few months. Her own tears were falling now, though she was failing to come up with the words. All she could bring herself to say in a choked whisper was, “Please don’t go.” Her eyes were pleading and Celeste had given them both softer, comforting looks. One she’d seen so many times before. One she wanted to perfectly etch into her memory so she’d never have to live without it again. 

Ariana noticed Kaden kept close to her and she wondered if he noticed something she didn’t. Everything felt so real and Celeste assured, “Everything happened too quickly. This was always going to happen one day. You shouldn’t hold onto what could have been done differently.” Somehow, hearing it from Celeste made her feel a little bit better than she had been. “She’s right,” Ariana agreed even though she knew she’d been blaming herself, too. All she knew was this definitely wasn’t Kaden’s fault. She did want to hear his questions answered though. “I don’t really know. I remember what happened, but I don’t really remember anything since. I think I was? I’m not sure why I’m here, if there’s something deeper going on within the town, but I do know it’s nice seeing you together,” Celeste explained and added, “I don’t know if anything is wrong. I feel okay, but I don’t know how long we have.” 

Kaden shook his head, unable to accept what she was saying. If he had just interrupted her mother and that other hunter, made a decision, done something, maybe things would have been different. His inaction had contributed to it all, he was sure of it. That wasn’t something he was going to let go of anytime soon. No matter who told him to consider otherwise. He sniffed and brushed his face with the back of his hand. “Doesn’t matter if she’s right, I’m going to hold onto that until the day I die. You can’t stop me.” Because she wasn’t around to. Ari, maybe. But he at least had age on her as a one up. It was surreal seeing his friend again. He was so sure he never would. Only in sad dreams, mostly nightmares. That was when most of the people he lost came back to him. Only in dreams meant to remind him of the pain. Still, Kaden found himself angling in such a way that he could protect Ariana, defend her maybe. Strange. He rolled his shoulders back and stepped away, just a touch. There was still so much unexplained, unreal, but he was still sure this was somehow Celeste. A part of her, at least. Something that wouldn’t hurt them. Well, not outright at least. He hoped. Putain, all the conversations he wanted to have with her felt stupid when faced with her. He wanted to yell at her for leaving him with so many unanswered questions and no one to go to. Instead, he figured his problems, his sadness, it paled in comparison to Ari’s. “I think you mean it’s weird,” he mumbled before turning to Ari. “But go on. If there’s not much time… It’s yours.”

Kaden had quietly urged her to use her time wisely though she couldn’t quite forget the blame he was carrying when this whole thing was decidedly her fault. There had been countless moments over the last few months that she had longed for Celeste to be there. So she could seek her guidance or show her a new project she’d been working on. Now that Ariana was finally looking at her again, the only thing that seemed to matter was one. “I love you,” she said quietly with tears freely falling, “I miss you so much. All the time. I don’t know what I’m supposed to…” There were so many things she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do about. So many different problems she wanted Celeste’s help with, but if their time was short, those didn’t matter. Every part of her wanted to cling to this moment. She was afraid to blink, afraid to move. She couldn’t lose her. Not again, but the comforting hand on her arm slowed her heart a bit. She even smelled the same. The faint smell of her floral perfume swirled with the aroma of cinnamon that clung to her from her countless cups of coffee. “I think you do. You’ve never needed me to know what’s right, Ari. I wish I could stay, make things easier, but I don’t know if I can,” Celeste assured her in the same soothing tone she always used. 

Ariana leaned into her touch and nodded slowly. It was hard to believe she knew what was right when she seemed to be stumbling through life these days, but she’d hold on to those words. She’d tried to remember them when things got tough. As if sensing her distress, Celeste added, “Remember, you’re never alone. Even if I’m not here, you have people looking out for you. I know Winston and Ulf would do just about anything to keep you safe and happy. Even Kaden I’m sure would help if you needed him.” She’d given him a glance as she said the last part. Ariana quickly piped in, “He has.” Somehow it felt important that Celeste knew that and he knew she knew as much. She wished she could just stay. That none of this had to end, but people didn’t just come back from the dead without some serious magic. Nell had implied and offered as much. Words seemed to be failing her in this moment, so she just took Celeste’s hand. She tried to think of happy things to share with her, but was somehow drawing a blank. As she finally thought to tell her about trade school and her job, she heard a choked sound come from Celeste. She looked up horrified. No. This couldn’t be happening. This was every nightmare she ever had playing out in front of her in Kaden’s apartment of all places. The same knife was in her chest again and the blood spilled out just as it always had. “No,” she cried out, “Please, no.” She reached out for her as if she could help, but she faded just as quickly as she appeared and the breath hitched in her throat. Her stomach churned and she was sure she was going to be sick. Her legs felt weak beneath her and she let herself fall to the ground, refusing to look away from the spot where Celeste just was. 

Kaden almost felt like he should leave the room, give them a moment. But his eyes couldn't leave his friend’s face, back from the dead. And he knew first hand, if he had more time to talk to his parents… He should walk away. But his feet were firmly planted. And something about this still felt too easy to be true. Still, her voice, just hearing it, even if she wasn’t talking to him, it was almost overwhelming. He had practically forgotten what it sounded like. It was a kick in the gut to think about how quickly things faded, how fleeting memories really were. He knew. He was no stranger to loss. But every time, he stupidly thought it might be different. At the mention of him, however, he looked away, a little sheepishly, catching his friend’s glance at the end. If he had to guess, it looked something like a flash of pride, gratitude maybe. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a small smile. 

It quickly dropped as soon as Celeste, or whatever was masquerading as Celeste, started to bleed out in front of them. Kaden reached out for Ariana and pulled her away. He didn’t know what was happening, but he had enough distrust in the whole thing that he wasn’t going to reach out to save his friend. She was already gone. Her sister, however? She was real. He knew that much. And he owed it to Celeste. He owed this much. Still, it was like his hands were gripping something hot after a second; he wanted to drop his grip on her and jump away. That’s what he should do, what with all the feelings of spiders crawling along his back. But he didn’t. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but keeping her safe was more important to him than whatever comfort he felt. Which was stupid but he could chide himself later. Before he could shout anything, fight anything, the vision was gone. Just as quickly as it had appeared. His hand lingered on Ari’s shoulder as she collapsed to the ground. His knees were shaking and he wondered if he was going to join her down there soon. For now, he stood there, blinking. The sight was replaying in front of him every time his eyes shut and open. “That was…” It was how she died. He knew it. “She… She looked like…” Kaden swallowed back the lump in his throat. “It wasn’t her. Ari, I’m sorry. It wasn’t-- She didn’t die again. Ari, it’s--” He didn’t even know what he was trying to say. Because it wasn’t fine. Or alright. And even if it was, he sure as shit didn’t feel fine. He opened his mouth to try and say something else but all he found was air. His hand gripped her shoulder a little tighter as he felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes again. “I’m sorry,” was all he could manage. 

Ariana hoped like hell that she would just wake up and this would float away to be nothing more than a quick sting that’d be forgotten as soon as she got moving for the day. The longer she sat there on his floor, the more apparent it became she was stuck with the weighted feel in her chest that kept her glued to the floor. At least if she woke up, it’d feel distant. At least when it happened, there was someone to lash out at, but she was stuck with this feeling now. There was no outlet but heave in breaths that felt entirely too shallow. The only thing keeping her grounded was Kaden’s hand on her shoulder that surprisingly remained there. She trembled on the ground staring at the spot where Celeste stood only moments ago as if by sheer willpower, she could just reappear again. It wasn’t going to happen though and she struggled to catch her breath. Kaden’s words only barely registered in her ears with the pressure building up in her head. “That was how she,” she barely croaked out the words, but knew he could hear her anyway. Knew she didn’t need to bother finishing the sentence. 

The edge of emotion was evident in his voice, too, and somehow helped guide her anguish toward anger. Ariana’s fists clenched in her lap though they still shook. Whatever had the nerve to take her sister’s form and put both of them deserved more than her rage. Her breath still continued in huffs and she finally agreed, “It wasn’t her.” But it looked so much like her. Smelled so much like her. Even her words sounded exactly like something Celeste would say and followed the same cadence. It had felt so real and had been ripped away from her again so violently. Maybe she had deserved as much. If she had only been more cautious, Celeste would still be here and nothing would be imitating her. No amount of wishing she had done things differently would change that though. So she sat there, defeated on the floor letting the tears flow freely. She’d been stupid to believe that Celeste could have really been there just like she had been stupid to believe they could just live their lives as normal in one place while the Aquillas had still hunted them. She guessed she was stuck living with both of those things now. 

#wickedswriting #conversations with dead people #kaden #grief tw

[danetobelieve]

In Sweetness There Is Strength || Ricky, Rio and Winston

When: 30/06/2020 Who: @ricky-corderbro​, @3starsquinn​ & @danetobelieve Where: Room Mate Squad HQ Summary: After Rio’s fight with the trolls. Warnings: medical blood tw - they clean Rio up quite a lot and there is indepth discussion of Rio’s scars / bruises / injuries, also there is abuse mentions too. 

The events of the night swam through Orion’s head in a thick, convoluted fog. After Kaden dropped him off, Rio stood outside for a while. White noise filled his head. He was trying to process what had happened, but his brain seemed to refuse the request. Probably some kind of coping mechanism. It had still been too fresh on his mind. The attack, the pain, the murder. Everything clung to Rio’s throat, threatening to spill out at any moment. But instead, Rio felt lifeless. Like he had cried every lost ounce of liquid that he could to Kaden. Kaden. Who had gotten hurt trying to protect Rio from doing something stupid. Who had no choice but to listen to Rio scream about the pain. Who had listened when he had refused to go to the hospital. And he had done all of it knowing that the two didn’t actually get along or agree on anything. But would Rio have changed anything? Would he have attacked the trolls first, knowing what was coming? Or would he have simply put the two in danger again to try to avoid the violence. It felt like a lose-lose. That no matter what Rio tried to do, he was doomed to fail. Wow, poetic. Really hit that nail on the head. Isn’t that all Rio had been doing his life anyways? Failing?

But he couldn’t stand out here forever. Winston or Ricky would find him eventually. Or worse, some random passerby on the street would see Rio covered in blood and he would end up arrested. He couldn’t avoid them forever. It seemed like now was the best time to get the freak out over with. He stepped slowly towards the door, each step another stabbing pain in Rio’s side. He hadn’t exactly figured out what to do about the broken ribs yet. But he knew that the hospital wasn’t an option. Everything else would heal fine. The ribs were a bit more concerning. Tonight, he just wanted to crawl in bed. He moved to reach towards the door knob but stopped himself. Blood on carpet? Not a great idea. Ricky was having someone over on Friday. The place needed to stay clean. So he knocked with his elbow, careful to avoid getting blood anywhere. Rio was too embarrassed to look at whoever answered the door. His eyes were trained on the ground and locked onto a single space of the porch. “I’m sorry.” Rio breathed in, a small groan escaping his lips from the pain of breathing, “Can you uh- can someone go into my room? And grab me something to change into? And maybe a wet towel.” 

Things were going good. It was blissful. Things with Rio were going slow, but even something as little as holding hands was enough to send a cacophony of electric butterflies whirlwinding in the pit of Winston’s stomach. Rio was out and Winston and Ricky were fucking around on Borderlands Three. Literally fucking around. Winston was literally lying on the sofa so that their head hung off of the cushions and everything was flipped. “Ricky, I fucking told you that if you invert everything on your controller and flip yourself over it’s basically the same as just playing normal way up. Just more s-” they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Dashing to the door, they slid to a stop on just their socks (this was a strict no shoes in the home household) and pulled the door open spotting Rio. “Hey R-” they didn’t finish their sentence. “Is that blood?!” Winston’s hands flew to their face, pushing it up so that Rio had no choice to make eye contact with them. A veritable Jackson Pollock of injuries had been forced upon Rio and a fury that Winston rarely felt filled them. “Sorry, don’t be sorry, come in….” they spoke quietly, mainly because if they didn’t whisper they would scream, “Ricky, I’m going to get Rio a change of clothes for Rio, can you get the first aid kit and help clean him up and then we can take him to the hospital…” Winston headed straight up the stairs, not waiting for a response, their fury causing them to shake slightly with each step. 

“That’s just Borderlands with extra steps.” Ricky was draped half in/half on/half off an armchair as he and Winston ran around a swamp planet, shooting absolutely everything in sight, “Can we just fucking finish this and hop to the next planet? Everything here is green which means I can’t fucking see shit. Promethea was better. Urban landscapes don’t fuck with my color blindness like swamps do; and while I”m loving the gay romance subplot here, I’m ready to be able to land headshots successfully again” There was a knock on the door, which in and of itself wasn’t weird they were pretty popular and enough people just swung by to say hi, but the knock sounded strange like it hadn’t been made with a hand. Winston managed to extricate themselves from their strange position before Ricky could and went to swing the door open. Craning his neck to try to see who was in their entryway Ricky managed to fall fully out of the chair and onto the floor when he saw it was a bloody Rio, “WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU KNOCKING AND NOT JUST COMING IN JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.” He hopped to his feet, tossing his controller onto the chair and bolted for the very robust first aid kit he kept in one of the kitchen cabinets, digging out some alcohol wipes as he came back, “Sit on the stairs” he pointed to one of the lower steps as he tore the wipes open, “What happened and who do Winston and I have to kill. I’ll do it. I’ll rip a motherfucker’s throat out. That’s why I’ve got fangs.” He used said fangs to tear at a length of gauze, holding it out to Rio, “Is it okay if I touch you? To wipe your face?” 

Winston and Ricky reacted pretty much exactly how Orion expected them to. They were concerned. Shocked. He hadn’t expected them to be so… angry. Far angrier than Rio could manage to be right now. But the two wanted the trolls to pay for what they had done. Rio wished he could explain how they had already paid. Rio and Kaden limped away from that encounter alive. Could they say the same thing about some of the trolls? Winston pushed Rio’s face up, but Rio could hardly focus on their face. His sight felt glossed over, a mix of exhaustion, pain and shock. But he was being led inside, “But the floors…” Rio heard himself mumble as he was dragged inside. Rio gasped and held his side as he stepped. He hoped they didn’t notice the injury. They would want to look at his side. And they couldn’t see him like that. “I don’t want to get blood anywhere” He tried defending himself to the two. The carpets were important right? What about those antique floors Ricky always bragged about? Still, he mindlessly followed Winston into the home, only focusing when he heard the mention of the word hospital. “No!” Rio yelled, the volume surprising him. Up until now, he had barely been able to speak more than a whisper to Kaden or them. “Please. No hospital. My dad will be there. I can’t-” He didn’t finish his sentence. Ricky and Winston may not know everything yet, but it wasn’t hard to connect some of the dots. They knew he couldn’t risk seeing his dad. Especially not like this. Winston rocketed up the steps and Ricky settled Rio down on the steps, asking him questions that he didn’t think he could answer. “You can touch my face.” Rio sighed, wishing that they had been out when he had gotten home. The desire only worked to make him feel worse about himself. As Ricky asked more questions, he dotted cloth across Rio’s skin to clean the blood. He jumped as the cloth touched his cheek, the bruising and cuts stinging his face. “You- I do-” He tried to figure out his wording multiple times, stumbling through sentences and cutting himself off each time. Because he didn’t know what to say. Or how to say it. “It’s dead.” Rio finally settled on. Not all of them. Rio remembered their threat. But the two that had done this to Rio were both dead.

Winston came down the stairs with fresh clothes for Rio and a pile of towels, not to mention more first aid supplies just in case they had run out. “Fuck, I forgot-sorry,” Winston moved slowly to Rio’s side, “Rio’s right the hospital is a no go…. I would offer to help clean you up but I don’t think my hands are gonna be steady enough, I can try some healing magic once we’ve got you all cleaned up if you want…” Winston should’ve been there. Watching Rio like that made them angry. Seeing them in pain made Winston furious. They would’ve gone out and killed whatever had done this to them if it hadn’t been already dead. Swallowing. Winston pulled out a chair for Rio and motioned for them to sit in it. “Ricky is going to need to work on you for a bit if going to the hospital isn’t an option then the very least we can afford to do is get you all cleaned up.” Winston paused for a moment, glancing nervously at their shoes and then at the kitchen wall. “What do you want to do first? You can get cleaned up and get changed and get right and talk to us, or you can tell us as you go. But eitherway, I think-” Winston didn’t want to press him, “Rio,” they slipped their hands into Rio’s and gripped them firmly, “can you tell us what happened so we can try and help?” 

“THE FLOORS?!” Ricky scoffed a little and shook his head, “If I have to pick between you and the floors it’s going to be you every single time, Rio. I don’t give a single flying fuck about blood on the floors. I care about you being okay.” he knelt down next to Rio, carefully wiping his hands clean with one swab before ever so gently holding Rio’s chin and carefully cleaning off the wounds on his face, “I know this stings like a motherfucker. Did I ever tell you about the time I had to stitch up a mermaid bite on my side? You think you’re bleeding on the floors now you should have seen that. I’m pretty sure there’s still a stain on the landing.” He attempted to keep the conversation light, distracting Rio and Winston as best he could as he cast a moderately-trained gaze over his friend, “If we can’t go to the hospital I need you to tell me exactly where it hurts and how it hurts. I can do a decent amount; I’m used to having to care for myself, but if there’s something outside my field of knowledge I’ll have to make some calls and try to get somebody discreetly out here to take a look at you.” Shoving the bloody wipe into a bag near his feet Ricky opened another one, looking over Rio and sighing heavily, “I’m sorry we weren’t there to help. With whatever this was.” 

When Orion thought that Winston was moving to touch his side, Rio jerked, flailing his arm out to try to stop Winston before they had a chance to press it. “Don’t!” Rio hissed. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed that he had just done that. To Winston of all people. “Sorry- sorry. Just- please don’t touch it. I’m fine. I heal quickly.” He just hoped that they healed correctly. But there wasn’t another option. Could Winston’s healing magic even work with Rio fully clothed? He didn’t have it in him tonight to have that conversation. Rio grabbed at one of the towels and began mindlessly wiping at this arms. It didn’t fix the red stains across his body, but it at least took off the excess blood. And it served as something for Rio to focus on other than the looks Winston and Ricky were giving him. They were asking so many questions. But that wasn’t the scariest part. They were… caring? He wasn’t told to brush it off or get back up. They were protecting him. Just as they always did. “I got attacked. I- You don’t have to be sorry. Neither of you do. You can’t always be there to protect me. It was so pathetic that he even needed protection. He was supposed to be the strong one. Blessed with some divine gift for protecting others. It was all just meaningless words to him. “I- It’s dead.” Rio breathed deeply, ignoring the pain and trying desperately to stop himself from crying again. Hadn’t he done that enough tonight? “I- I killed it. I tried to stop it. To get away or beg them to leave us alone. But I couldn’t think of anything else to do. And I didn’t want to die and I- I killed it. It was a troll. And it’s dead now because of me.” His breath was catching in his throat, threatening to cut off his breathing all together. Ricky was trying to distract him with other stories, which Rio was happy to latch onto in an attempt to get his mind off of things. Ricky’s story and Winston’s hand wrapping around Rio’s were the only two things keeping him grounded right now. “I- I don’t know. I think I’m okay. Just… sore. He threw me into a tree.”

This was a lot to deal with. Winston wasn’t sure what was more overwhelming. The level of endearing that Rio was managing to achieve by being concerned about the fixings and furniture of the house over their own well being, over something that meant absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things compared to Rio’s life. Maybe it was how upset Rio was that he had physically recoiled from Winston trying to touch him. “Hey, hey,” Winston could see the fact that Orion was upset and they could completely understand why, they remembered when they had killed the vampire that had gone after Ricky. They remembered when they had killed themself. They still remembered the look in August’s eyes as the energy was sucked whole from his body and used to bring Bea back from being a ghost. “I don’t know what happened, you tried everything you could by the sounds of it and you had nothing more that you could do.” Winston slowly stepped forward and held Rio close to them, pulling Rio’s head into the crook of their shoulder and running a calming hand through his hair. Leaning closer, Winston whispered quietly to Orion as they held them. “Listen, I- I saw Athena’s scars and I know that you probably got it worse then her if what you’ve said is true, but we can’t look after you if you’re gonna keep your hoodie and everything on. I know this is hard, but I can get Ricky to not bring anything up. We don’t have to talk about it right now. We just need to look after you okay.” 

Orion almost broke down when Winston hugged him. The hug was gentle and cautious. And Rio didn’t care how much it hurt because all he wanted was for Winston to keep hugging him the rest of the night like this. To run their fingers through his hair and promise Rio that he wasn’t a monster. Rio felt like a monster. Worse, he felt like a hunter. He needed to stay strong. If he cried now, he wouldn’t stop. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Rio wasn’t expecting Winston to know about the scars. But a moment later and it clicked into place. God, what an awful time to remember that Winston was probably super familiar with his sister’s scars. “It’s not- They’re not like hers.” Rio warned Winston. Athena’s scars were battle scars, won from killing creature’s and training. Rio’s were different. Unevenly healed wounds, burn marks. His scars were a punishment. But what choice did Rio have? It was Winston and Ricky after all. They knew him. Rio trusted them with his life, so why not trust them with this? “O-okay” Rio finally whispered back, making an attempt to grab at the hoodie so he could start to slowly peel it off. But the pain was way too severe to do it himself. “I- I can’t get it off myself.” Rio groaned. This was so embarrassing. This wasn’t something he should be asking from either of them, but especially Winston. They were nowhere near getting undressed near each other stage. “Can you help me please?” Rio finally asked, holding his arms into the air and trying to laugh, though it sounded more pained than humored, “This is so awkward, I’m sorry.”

Honestly, Winston wasn’t sure what they had been expecting. They had been ready to back right off and to find another way for them to fix this without having to get Rio to take off the hoodie. But Rio agreed and gently peeled away from Winston. Winston had to admit that they were reluctant to let him go, but they did so anyway. “It doesn’t matter, they’re just scars, they’re not you.” Winston had their own scar. It wasn’t going to be comparable to Rio’s but they thought maybe they could at least try and sympathise. Winston gave Rio a weak smile before nodding. “Yeah, don’t worry Rio I got you,” stepping forward, Winston carefully held Rio’s t-shirt down whilst slipping their hand under the hoodie and pulling it up. Once they were sure that the hoodie wasn’t going to pull away at the t-shirt, Winston grasped it with both hands and slowly and carefully helped Rio peel it off of their body. It was wet. With blood and sweat and god knows what. Winston dropped it into the empty kitchen sink. Thank fuck that Ricky kept this place spotless. Glancing over at Rio, they squeezed his hand and nodded at them, doing their best not to look at the exposed skin on Rio’s. It was clear why Rio had been afraid, had been embarrassed even. Winston could tell that there had been a lot of pain and a tidal wave of sympathy and anger over took them. Tears threatened to rush to their eyes and Winston insisted on remaining calm. “We’re good okay, I’m gonna get you a soda or something, you should get your blood sugar up and Ricky is going to start looking you over.” 

Ricky remembered the first time he’d met Rio, when they’d been caught on the beach in a sudden storm and taken refuge in the workshop. How he’d had to go wait outside in the rain for Rio to finish changing because the man was so secretive about his bare skin. So, in an attempt to alleviate the pressure of being looked at and give Winston and Rio a little bit of privacy in this moment, Ricky busied himself tying his hair back and making sure his glasses were absolutely spotless. When out of the corner of his eye he could see that the sweatshirt had been removed he nodded to Winston, “Grab me one too please.” It was immediately concerning to him that Rio couldn’t manage the range of motion to remove his own sweatshirt and Ricky pushed his glasses up on his nose, leaning forward to look over Rio, “It should go without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway, inside these walls any secret we learn is safe. Nothing is going to reach anyone else. Where on your chest is it hurting? Since it clearly is.” He was very very careful not to touch Rio, who was clearly in a fragile state at the moment, “Though I think we both know that the answer is probably ‘broken ribs’ especially if you got thrown into a tree.”

Orion never knew how people were going to react when they saw the scars. For the most part, he had kept them secret. Only a few in town had ever seen them. Rio had only ever actually told one person where they truly came from. But Winston and Ricky knew enough about Rio by now. He knew they were smart enough to connect the dots. Winston went to grab drinks, something Rio realized that he desperately needed. He hadn’t even realized how dry his mouth had been until they mentioned it. Ricky paid no attention to the scars aside from ensuring that the secret was safe with him. Of course it was, because Ricky was an incredible friend. And Rio shouldn’t have been so scared about telling either of them about it for this long. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you both I- I just can’t tell anybody about it right now. Except for Blanche. She’s the only one that knows.” Rio’s heart was going haywire, never having anybody quite those close to him when he wasn’t wearing a hoodie. He felt exposed, like he was on full display to his roommates. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken ribs.” Rio nodded his head in agreement, lifting his right arm to attempt at pointing to his side, “This side has the most pain, but I hit it face forward so it could have gotten both sides, I don’t know.” He still couldn’t believe that this was actually happening right now. When Winston returned with drinks, Rio took a long drink from it, almost coughing the thing back up from pain. But he forced it down and felt the instant relief in his throat. “If- if you need to get a better look at it you can…” Rio paused, too embarrassed to speak the words. He had to force himself into a pained deep breath before rambling out, “takeofftheshirtifyouneed.” He groaned, wishing he hadn’t just offered but trying to lighten the mood as best as he could. “I trust your intentions.” He hoped that his attempt at a smile came through to the both of them. But he didn’t want to do so without warning them ahead of time, “But it’s uh- it’s worse. Under the shirt. Just so you know. The arms aren’t as bad.” He just didn’t want Winston to get too freaked out. Some of the wounds were recent. Some of the bruises were from the tree and would eventually go away. But most wouldn’t. “Someone will have to help me again if that’s the case…”

“Listen, you don’t need to apologise for not telling us anything, you don’t ever need to tell us anything.” Winston slipped Ricky’s drink down beside him and crouched besides Rio, a hand gently placed on his knee doing everything that they possibly could to be reassuring for him right now. “Whatever happened, we don’t need to talk about it right now, if you need Blanche here I can get her now, right now we don’t need to be thinking about what could or should be one way or another, what we’re thinking and focussing on is getting you patched up so everything heals right.” Winston tried not to think about the scale of the injuries. They’d started reading up on healing magic but they could do about as much as an aspirin right now, healing major wounds or setting bones wasn’t really something they were going to risk yet. “Don’t worry about your shirt, I got it.” Winston quickly and carefully slipped Rio’s less damaged arm through the hole, before tugging the shirt over Rio’s head and finally pulling the rest of the shirt off of him. Grabbing a towel, Winston carefully folded it over before placing it around Rio’s shoulders. That way Ricky could still see and at least Rio would have some privacy. Winston tried not to look at the bruises and cuts too carefully. There were clearly a patchwork of fresh wounds, but then again there was also older scars. Burns for some reason. Winston’s very soul was a blaze in that moment. No wonder Athena was the way she was. No wonder Rio never wanted to take his hoodie off even in the middle of a roasting hot club. Anger bubbled inside of Winston. White hot. Fuelled by the pain of someone who truly didn’t deserve this. Someone who had literally been thrown through a tree and needed love and tender affection and not to be burned by the people who were meant to protect and care for him. 

In the heat of the moment there was a lot that ran through Ricky’s mind, but if he had any skills it was the ability to compartmentalize so he could deal with emotions later, “I second that. You owe us no explanation for anything. You owe nobody that. The only thing we need from you right now is to let us help you however we can.” Ricky’s own chest was a fairly well covered network of scars from aquatic monsters, a tree vampire, and just being fucking stupid, but it had absolutely nothing on the novel’s worth of scar tissue that ran across Rio. He could feel the very animalistic part of him, that only ever lurked just behind the bright smile and easy laugh, raging at the story the scars told, coupled with what he knew of Rio’s family. But his anger was his own burden, not something he would ever ask Rio to help carry. “Yeah that troll fucked you up pretty good my dude.” he didn’t even have to raise his fingers to feel for broken bones, he could tell from the bruising and the swelling that some ribs had been broken. “It sounds like you’re breathing okay. It probably hurts like a motherfucker but I don’t think you punctured anything.” rocking back on his heels Ricky took his glasses off and massaged the bridge of his nose, “I can’t fix that. I could have set an arm or a leg, and I can do stitches, but ribs…. I just have field medic training. If you look me in the eye and tell me Ricky my hunter healing will take care of this just fine, I’ll believe you, and carry you up to your room to rest and heal up. But, if that’s not the case, I know someone I could call to come over and discreetly patch you up.” sliding his glasses back onto his face he gave Rio a smile, “It’s up to you, my dude. We’ll follow your lead here.” 

“It’s fine I don’t need someone else here freaking out too. You both are enough.” Orion wanted them to not worry as much. Maybe if he could convince them that he was okay, they would be too? They had both already worked magic for him. Rio had come home feeling like everything in the world was ending. Now, Rio was in pain and his heart still hurt for those trolls. But he felt loved. Accepted. Safe. There wasn’t anything more that he could ask for. “I’ll tell her tomorrow. Let her get a good night’s sleep before she freaks out.” Winston, as per usual, was Rio’s savior. They wrapped the towel around Rio’s neck to give some sort of security. Nobody had seen Rio shirtless in… years. Probably since childhood. Rio had always found excuses to get away. To hide and avoid any prying eyes. Somehow, in what was probably one of the most revealing moments of Rio’s life, he still felt incredibly safe. These two were something else. “I’ve had broken ribs before.” Rio admitted. He didn’t give any further details. He didn’t need to . “They healed.” He wasn’t sure that they had ever healed correctly, but they had stopped hurting eventually. “This will all heal. I promise.” Rio couldn’t risk Ricky’s contact being anyone that knew his parents or sister. It was a small town and the Quinn’s weren’t invisible. They would heal. They had to heal. “I- I don’t know how to thank the both of you for this.”

“You don’t need to say thank you to anyone for cleaning you up after you were put through a tree,” Winston took a step forwards in front of Rio and took both of his hands. “Here, let me try something, I hope it’ll help a little.” Grasping Rio’s hands gently in their own, Winston gave them a gentle squeeze before muttering a string of Latin that they had memorised a few weeks ago. A cascade of power began to gently trickle out of Winston’s fingers, little tendrils of light braiding themselves up and through the air before they tracked back into Rio’s hands. The light slipping through the skin. Winston could feel a brief moment of exhaustion and their eyes felt heavy. Their breath became laboured and a moment later they pulled away from the power. “I can’t really do healing magic, but that should at least help with some of the pain for a bit. It’s the only spell I can really do and… I hope it helps.” They really needed to keep a doctor on retainer, between the three of them. “Well, Ricky it seems like you still get to take the next trip to the hospital,” Winston moved over to their fridge and tapped the colour wheel that Ricky had drawn up months ago, as a joke of course, next to their house chore chart. “Yeah, says Ricky’s up next.” 

Ricky watched quietly as Winston wove their magic, seeing them grow more tired as the energy left them and flowed into Rio, quiet latin filling the room “Careful there Merlin.” RIcky gave a wry smile, “I don’t want to have to carry you both upstairs if you knock yourself out doing too much magic.” He squeezed Rio’s knee gently, leaning back against the wall at the foot of the stairs, “Rio. There’s nothing to thank us for. I dunno how to make it more clear, but I love you with every single ounce of my rotten heart. Fervently. Deeply. Truly love you. Both of you. You guys are my family. This is your home. Not just your house. You deserve to feel safe and comfortable here and I’ll do absolutely everything in my power to make this a refuge for you. But Winston’s right. You gotta obey the hospital wheel. It’s my turn next. This is why we have the rota.” Ricky pushed himself back to his feet, wiping his now-slightly-bloody hands on his jeans, “I’ll make some dinner. Y’all get upstairs and comfortable. I’ll bring a few trays up. We can watch something stupid while we eat. You’re home now, Rio. Any troll who wants a piece is gonna have to get through me and Winston. I will go full goddamn seal beast mode to stop that from happening.” 

#p: ricky #p: orion #wickedswriting #para #chatzy para #chatzy #in sweetness there is strength #abuse mention tw

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Dead Things || Morgan & Kaden

@chasseurdeloup

Just two friends having a walk in the woods. Guest-starring Ashley the Zombie!

It surprised Morgan that Kaden would choose her to walk in the woods with to let off steam and vent safely. It seemed like the sort of thing to do with a girlfriend, but maybe Regan and her denial blinders were a little much for him just now. And for all the times Morgan had been driven to sign off on him with a ‘fuck you’ on her lips, she did consider them to be friends of a certain kind. He was kind at heart, kinder than he let on even to himself. He had his anger, which Morgan still couldn’t quite fit her head around, but if his life had been anything like Deirdre’s, he had plenty of reason to be. She’d wished he had suggested a place a little less spooky than the woods, but it wasn’t like she could enjoy anything from the counter at Coffee Plus. Morgan reached out with what senses she had and tried to remember the comfort they’d once given her. The sanctity of nature. Never judging, always open to her. The soft earth, ready to take her body back some day. Did it welcome them now? Did either of them know how to fit in a space as simple and open as this?

“Shucks, Kaden,” Morgan teased, “I didn’t think you’d ever ask me to meet you like this. If you’d given me more time I’d have made us BFF bracelets.” She elbowed him gently as they walked. “What’s been up with you?”

There had been a few moments of calm in Kaden’s life the past week. But something about it felt more ominous than comforting. Even though it was a new moon and it should be the calmest time of the month, something felt off. He couldn’t say what. Maybe he just wasn’t used to peace and quiet. Hell even most of his assignments had been normal. It was possible that was why he felt the need to lean into the weird of hanging out with a supernatural friend. Though, to be honest, he was short on non-supernatural friends at the moment. And no matter how many times him and Morgan went head to head over things, there was something, enough easy rhythm, especially when sharing the realities of having banshee girlfriends; a strange commonality and bond he never expected to have or share with anyone else. Leave it to White Crest.

The mention of friendship bracelets pierced through him as he thought of the stupid leather braclet on his wrist. His nose scrunched a little even though he tried to hide it. He hadn’t planned on bringing up Celeste. Or having to dwell on death for a moment. Hopefully she didn’t catch it, assumed it was an overreaction to her elbow. “Well I’d say a friendship bracelet with me is a death sentence but I guess that’s not a problem is it?” Putain. Fine. Just fucking lean into it. Why not? “I figured we could both use a non-carcass walk every now and then.” He gave a small shrug. “And nothing much. No clue what the fuck I’m doing with my life but I guess that’s just what White Crest does to you.”

“Wow. I was kidding, but I didn’t think you’d give me literal stink-eye,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “What, are you afraid the big bad world isn’t ready for us? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” She pretended to be scandalized, gasping and clutching her imaginary pearls, but she could feel herself skirting close to a kind of truth that lay between them. They couldn’t exactly gather round a foosball table with his hunter friends anymore than she could bring him to a movie night with Remmy and Skylar. Granted, her friends wouldn’t ever try to kill him, but that wasn’t a path she should be going down when they were supposed to be enjoying each other’s company critter-free. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she huffed. “Every walk I take is a carcass walk.” She turned to face him, tilting her head so far to one side it threatened to dislocate her neck. “If you have beef with the dead, you really came to the wrong zombie.” She smirked, her smile growing wider as she kept their pace along the path, backwards now. She righted her head and rolled her shoulders. That had helped with muscle strain before, right? “You’re too easy to mess with sometimes. But, I can be serious if you need to talk about big things. Life isn’t for having all the answers, though. It’s not a performance, you know? We learn things. We try. We--”

An animal roared in the distance. It didn’t sound like any creature Morgan knew, but what else could it be? She looked over at Kaden. Did he hear that too? She turned in the direction of the sound. Something was lumbering through the underbrush, something big.

Kaden let out a sigh through his throat. “Very funny. I’m just saying my quota of friendship bracelets from dead girls is officially one. Spot’s taken, you’re too late,” he said, elbowing her back. “So quit your dramatics.” If anyone was going to be okay joking about death, it was Morgan. He knew that much. Honestly, it was nice to have second that he wasn’t just fucking sad about it all. And it was only a second because he looked over to see her fucking head turned around like some kind of horror movie. “Putain de merde, do you have to do that?” His face scrunched in disgust as he turned it away from her. It definitely didn’t turn like that, thank god, but it wasn’t quite enough to avoid the fucking scene of her putitng her head right. His mind flashed to Bea’s head in a jar and if he didn’t feel sick before, he sure did now. “At least warn me before you do.” Yeah he knew that wasn't going to happen.

Unsurprisingly, she had a deep answer to his dumb question. Or he was pretty sure she would have it hadn’t stopped paying attention as soon as he heard a wail. Inhuman, for sure. His stomach dropped. Again. She wasn’t going to like this. At least not if his suspicions were correct. Without thinking, his hand reached back to the knife in his pocket and he positioned himself between her and the rustling in the foliage. Another roar and the creature broke through the bush. A decaying, hungry zombie, shambling towards them. He leapt to act. There was only one thing to do with a monster.

“I didn’t even break anything,” Morgan grumbled, pouting. “And isn’t it good for me to have a positive relationship with my new body? Don’t you want the best for me, Kaden?” But, honestly, it was probably a good thing he hadn’t become completely inured to how dead dead-bodies could be, especially hers. Positioning herself in proximity to human existence was a losing game, but for Kaden...maybe it was the best he could do right now. “I want the best for you too, obviously,” she added, more sincerely.

But the moment was shattered by the figure that leapt out from the underbrush. Morgan recognized her at once. She had only seen her ruined face a few days ago in the cemetery with Rio. “A-ashley--?” She moved forward, but Ashley’s face was too rotted and glazed with hunger to give any intelligible response. She groaned from somewhere deep in her hungry belly and shambled forward, one arm half raised with want. Animals didn’t last long on a dead stomach, even the feast they’d given her, but Stars, she’d hoped Ashley would have at least lasted longer once she was herself again. Her path was clear, but Morgan wasn’t going to go any easier on her now. “Ashley don’t--!” She jumped into her path, holding her by the shoulders and digging in her heels. But Morgan had fed too recently since the last time they’d met, and her muscles were quickly meeting their limit. “Kaden! Help me!” She cried.

There was no doubt in Kaden’s mind what was headed towards him was a monster. The decaying hungry zombie was nothing more than undead bones and decay searching for flesh and organs to tear into. His knife was ready and he was prepared to run in and take care of the situation before this became a problem when Morgan put herself in front of him and started speaking. Did she just say a name? “Wait, do you know that thing?” His stomach fell watching the shambling gaunt body. He wanted to pull Morgan away and just get this over with but she ran towards it and  put herself right in harm’s way. Sure, she was a zombie, too, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get hurt ever. Putain.

He ran over and wanted to tear her from the threat but it was clear she was fighting her hardest to keep it at bay. Which didn’t exactly bode well. Kaden ran around behind the monster and grabbed its shoulders, pulling back. He’d have to find a way to cut off its head, a knife seemed impractical but it would have to d-- Before he could even consider that, the zombie rounded on him and lunged for his neck. Fuck. He raised his hand and threw a punch in its decaying face, trying to get it away from him. But it was fucking determined. His eyes went wide as he watched the teeth come closer and braced his arm to try and keep it away. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Her name is Ashley!” Morgan snapped. What had she been doing this whole time? Sure, the animal food she’d been given wasn’t going to last long, but she’d had time to hunt or buy or even steal something. Did she not know how? Did she not feel like she could? Morgan gripped the zombie tighter, wrestling against her brute force-- and then she whirled on Kaden, teeth bared.

“Don’t hurt him!” It was the stupidest thing she could’ve said. Ashley didn’t even have enough brain cells to string together who she was. There was no way anything like pleading was going to work right now. Morgan barreled into her from the side, sending them both sprawling to the ground. She pinned her to the forest floor by the shoulder, but Ashley roared and wrenched herself up before she could make her position any more secure. The flesh from Ashley’s arm came straight off and Morgan stared helplessly as the dead limb lay in her grasp. “Shit,” she hissed, scrambling back to her feet to follow the hungry zombie. She was making a beeline right for the hunter and Morgan wasn’t sure if she’d be able to tackle her in time if he didn’t move. “Kaden, get back!” she cried.

“Her what?!” Kaden yelled as he pushed his forearm into the monster’s neck. Putain, it didn’t matter what flesh the teeth connected with, just that they did. His stomach flipped furiously. The thought of being undead was far worse than the threat of death. He may be immune to werewolf bites, but zombies and vampires were still on the table. He could feel his pulse pounding in his chest. And fuck, he’d like it to keep fucking doing so. Desperately, Kaden took his knife and rammed it into the monster’s guts over and over, intestines and rotting flesh tumbling out of its side. It was barely holding itself together anymore but all the same, he was fucking panicking just a bit.

Before he knew it, the monster was thrown away from him by Morgan’s body. Okay. Alright, He had to find something to behead it with. Something more effective than a knife. Shoe lace? No, that would take too long. Morgan could only keep it at bay so long and he had a feeling she wasn’t about to try and kill her “friend.” “I thought you said not all zombies fucking knew each other,” he grumbled as he pulled his belt from his pants. Not great, but it would fucking do.”Mo--” Kaden was about to yell at her to get out of the way but he didn’t have to, the monster was lunging at him all the same. He didn’t listen to his friend and kicked out at the zombie and went to wrap the belt around its neck.

“I just fucking asked her!” Morgan was running as fast as her legs would take her. She could do this. Kaden was bound to have something to restrain Ashley with until they could get her food again. He could hunt her as many deer as she needed. She just needed to get the two of them apart long enough for him to understand what the plan was. She grabbed Ashley from behind, tugging her back as hard as she could by her shirt and wrestling an arm around her neck. “What part of ‘get back’ was hard for you?” She grunted at Kaden. “She’s just starving!” She dragged Ashley back several paces, grimacing as she wriggled and bit at her skin. Her grip loosened as Ashley took a deep chunk out of her arm, and it was all she could do to push the zombie off her feet as she stumbled free. “Give me that,” she said, pulling on the belt in his hands. “You need to run for some fresh deer, or brains, or--fuck!” She hit the ground hard. Ashely’s hand was around her leg, pulling her down with a strength Morgan couldn’t compete against with her humanity intact. “Kaden, what are you doing?”

Kaden really didn’t give a shit if this zombie was hungry or not, but Morgan sure did. And it was hindering him from doing his job. She seemed to insist that she knew this monster and it was very hard for him to care when all he saw were teeth coming towards him, hell bent on tearing into his flesh. “Deer?! You think deer are going to solve this?!” He was just about to solve this his way when Morgan yanked the belt away and he was once again without a way to take care of the problem quickly or easily. Putain. Morgan was down and while deep down he knew that the other zombie couldn’t really hurt her, he didn’t want to risk it. But he had no confidence that Morgan could keep the zombie contained on her own. Kaden reached over and pulled the zombie away from his friend. Or tried to. All he got was a fist full of flesh that had pulled off the bones. “She’s too far gone, Morgan.” The monster turned and hands wrapped around his arm as it pulled at him, teeth coming dangerously close once again. This time he was ready and had his knife braced against its neck. The closer it came to him, the more of its head he hoped he’d sever. It was hungry alright. Hopefully starving to death.

“I don’t know, maybe two of them?” Morgan wrestled with Ashley on the ground. It shouldn’t have been this hard to overpower a woman who was falling apart, but she was still fierce enough to knock Morgan’s bones out of place every time she thought she had the upper hand. And Kaden wasn’t running. Morgan didn’t know how to get it through his thick skull that what she needed wasn’t a rescue, but zombie tofu. “You’re too far gone,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just get her something--no!” Kaden’s knife glared in the twilight around them, slicing deep into Ashley’s neck. Morgan reached out for them from the ground with her broken arms. “Stop! She doesn’t know what she’s doing!” She popped them back into place and scrambled up. Ashley’s neck had been sawed away down to the bone, so fragile and bare for all her thrashing. No one should look like that, she thought. No one’s bones were meant to be bared that way, with rotten flesh staining the surface brown and dripping over the rounded ends. The body protected the bones. All of this was wrong… “Kaden, don’t!”

The knife cut deep into her neck and the stench that came from the rotting severed neck was enough to make him gag. Kaden held it back and kept pushing the knife through. It slid and slipped through what was left of the muscle and then the bone. The monster backed off and started to crumple away. One last whack with the knife and there would be no way for it to regenerate. He was about to do it when Morgan spoke up. All of the fear he felt before was burning away with anger. “No.” It was all he said before taking that final chop to her head, the tenuous connection between the body and it finally removed. All that was left was two piles of disgusting decay. It smelled like the reverse garden in the back of Regan’s apartment, maybe worse. Even before the head was gone, there wasn’t much keeping this together.

“We should burn what’s left.” He frankly didn’t give a shit if she was okay with that or not. Now that he had a moment, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Morgan had said earlier. All of it. “Just get her something, huh? Something to eat?” He could feel the impression of the knife handle pushing into his palm as he gripped it tighter. “Like what? Me?!” He was so close to getting bitten so many times and here she was concerned about a fucking monster. “You knew her, didn’t you? Met her before? You knew her name.” His voice raised louder every fucking sentence. He kicked a lump of decayed flesh away from his shoe. He wanted to kick the fucking corpse but he didn’t feel like trying his luck. “You knew she was like this and you let her--” There was so much he wanted to scream about that he couldn’t even pick where to fucking start. He threw the knife blad first into the ground, making sure it fucking sank in instead. “Morgan what the fuck?!”

“No!” The cry was barely a sound in Morgan’s dead throat as Kaden lobbed off the woman’s head. She stared, mute and trembling, at the remains of her body. All the magic that had been holding her together was gone. There were only masses of green and purple rot and the poor bones that couldn’t hold themselves together anymore. Kaden was yelling, but Morgan couldn’t hold on to any of his words for more than a few moments. “I--I met her once,” she said faintly. “I got her some food. I fed her. It was just...a stupid faun, and the butcher’s whole stock of brains and organs. She...she was scared. I think she was scared. But I don’t know why she didn’t…” Take care of herself. Feed herself. Come up with something better than roaming the woods. Morgan shuddered, thinking of how deep her pit had to be for her to choose living this way, to run away from people who wanted to help. “She ran away before I could do anything more.” Her eyes filled with tears as she finally looked at Kaden, teeming with his hunter rage. “I wasn’t going to let her hurt you. She wasn’t even trying to hurt you, she was just...I don’t know. She was lost, Kaden. Haven’t you ever been lost and stupid?”

“You could barely hold on to her! And your fucking help before led to this!” Kaden said, pointing that the pile of decomposed flesh and bones. “She wasn’t trying to hurt me, she was trying to eat me. I was fucking two seconds from getting bit. A couple of times.” A chill ran through him. There were few fates he could imagine that were worse than being undead. Morgan had adjusted or what-fucking-ever she wanted to call it, but it was the last thing he wanted for himself. And he wasn’t immune. He rolled the muscles of his shoulder blades back, trying to ground himself, pull back. “Lost and stupid was going to fucking kill me, Morgan. If I didn’t-- She was going to eat me. You fucking saw that, right? Putain, if I didn’t have hunter strength--” He gave a small shake of his head. He was so fucking sure she didn’t see it or didn’t care. “What if she came across someone who wasn’t us? What if-- She would have killed them. That’s not some ‘lost stupid’ mistake,” he spat out. “That would be murder. Fucking murder, Morgan. You fail at rehab with monsters and it ends in murder.” He took a deep breath and reached donw for his fucking knife. He wanted to just leave. “This isn’t some fucking game you get to play at.”  

“She is not a monster!” Morgan cried, her voice cracking in her stiff throat. “She was a person, Kaden. Not a ‘this’ or a thing or a--whatever else someone told you she is! She is like me, Kaden! She’s just as much of a person as me! It’s not her fault what her brain does to her when she’s starving, we don’t even know how much of a choice she had! And now we’re never going to because you couldn’t see past the end of your knife long enough to think of a better solution!” She pointed at the body, shaking her head furiously. He couldn’t even feel bad for her. He couldn’t even mourn what he’d taken away from the world. He couldn’t even see her. “That’s murder, Kaden. Not your hypothetical hunter crap. That.”

“That. Wasn’t a person. Not anymore. And it was going to kill me. I’m really glad to know a pile of rotten flesh is worth more to you than--” Kaden couldn’t even finish his sentence. It hurt too much to hear out loud. And he knew the fucking answer already. How often had he seen supernaturals value each other’s lives over human’s? It made him sick. Potential zombie life valued more than a living, breathing human. “There was no time for a better fucking solution. And your attempt at a better fucking solution however long ago your little intervention was clearly didn’t work. She ended up like this.” He was ready to walk away and be done. He was so fucking tired of being told he was wrong for fighting for human life.

“Yes, she was! Ashley was sick, Kaden! People get sick and say and do hurtful things when they’re sick all the time. And we don’t murder them for it, we put them in hospitals! And plenty of your people, your fucking humans do them stone cold sober!” Morgan backed away from Kaden, her insides crawling with disgust. He seemed to come so far and when they were joking around or having their heart to hearts everything between them could feel so nice. She always forgot that to him she was just an exception to a rule about creatures, worse than the dogs he wrangled up for his day job. “But, you know, good job. I’m sure it’ll make a great story to tell all the guys over a beer someday. You showed that starving girl who’s boss all by yourself. If you don’t mind, though, I’m gonna pass on whatever you have lined up next.”

“Sick? What the fuck, Morgan? Sick?!” Kaden was walking away when he heard that, but he turned on his heel to walk back to her. Were they even talking about the same fucking event anymore? Had she even been there just now? “A starving girl? Is that how you think of that?” he shouted pointing once again at the pile of decomp between them. “That was a zombie. Who was very fucking hellbent on eating me.” The more she spoke the clearer it was to him that she didn’t get it. That she saw no value to him or what he did, what had to happen, the reality of things. She had some rose colored zombie glasses or something, he couldn’t figure it out. “You know what, have fun on your walk with your friend there. Because it’s apparently not me. Hope she’s better fucking company. Considering she was higher on your fucking priority list.”

#dead. things #wr kaden #wr chatzy #wr kaden chatzy #wr

[packsbeforesnacks]

You Wanna Ride It, My Mimercycle || Noah & Winn

TIMING: Monday, May 4th, 2020, Sunset LOCATION: The Veterinary Clinic PARTIES: @noah-kalani & @packsbeforesnacks SUMMARY: Local Wolf Man (and Friend) Caught Murdering Mimes, More at 11 (”Do you need a license to drive a mimercycle? Asking for a friend.”) WARNINGS: None.

Winn had been riding home when he’d heard the howl, stopping off near the turn to his cabin to message Ariana and Miles in a mild panic. And they’d both been fine, and Kaden wasn’t involved, and that should’ve been the end of it. But it wasn’t. Winn was still reeling over Miles having a secret (well, unknown to him) brother, and that brother being in trouble with fucking Hunters. This was why Winn hadn’t wanted to get close to wolves! (‘Course, the voice in the back of his head was quick to remind him, it was nice to have folks worth carin’ about again.) His mind drifted to Noah unbidden, still stuck on the other night — and the mornin’ after. 

But before he could interrogate his feelings on the other man, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, an unfamiliar scent blowing into his face. Or, more accurately, an intimately familiar scent. There was a black-and-white blur ahead of him on the deserted road. Aw, fuck. Not now. Havin’ to think about his stalker was already bad, and now the fuckin’ mime was showin’ up at the worst possible time. He wasn’t anywhere near the station yet, this part of town only vaguely familiar to him. Winn revved his bike, pulling forward. And to his horror, Winn discovered his stalker wasn’t alone. Oh no. That would be too kind of the Universe. Instead, Winn’s mime was, oh God, riding other mimes? The unholy blob beneath Winn’s mime-self was the twisted, mottled form of a bike, the naked hands and feet of two faceless mimes pedaling it along like the worst Flintstones special. The seat and handles were… Oh, for fuck’s sake. Winn would recognize those dimples anywhere. But why was Noah’s mime-self here?

To say it had been a bit of a rough day at the clinic for one Noah Kalani might be a bit of an understatement. From the computer error that mixed up appointment reminders (No Mrs. Seawol, Alfred was not scheduled to get snip sniped today, that text was a mistake) to one very very heartbreaking euthanasia (yes he broke down and cried once the owner left) he had been put through the wringer in more ways that one, so much so that the Dr Choi took one look at him at the reception desk –silently munching on the lunch he almost forgot to eat– and sent him outside to get some air and some sunshine on his face. Sitting there on the bench next to the parking lot though Noah couldn’t help but fidget in his scrubs. It was almost 5pm.  He just had to make it till then and he could go home, take a shower, cuddle with his own pup, and not agonize over the weird Winn situation of the other night.. But of course like always the universe had other plans, and they were unfolding right before his very eyes.

Winn’s brain had scarcely put together a joke about riding Noah when it all went to Hell. Ricky had warned him. “More aggressive,” he’d said. And the, what, demons were exactly that. The mime-motorcycle (mimercycle, ugh) seemed bent on runnin’ him off the road, as silently as possible. It rammed into the side of Winn’s bike, Winn’s tires skidding on the road as he tried to avoid going down in a blaze of gore-y. His phone flew out of his hand where he’d half-composed a text to Ariana and onto the pavement at a crisp sixty miles an hour. (Don’t text and drive, he guessed.) Fuck, why wasn’t there anyone out, it was, like, five! They were headin’ towards a more populated town, he knew. Given the mimes’ dislike of a public stage, that meant that, soon, he’d either be dead or the mimes were about to make the evenin’ news. And Winn still hadn’t figured out why Noah’s mime wa— Aw, goddammit. He knew that scent, mixed with the scent of a dozen or more other animals, but still distinctly Noah. 

Way Winn saw it, he had two options now. Keep drivin’ towards the other man, riskin’ both their lives or… well, actually, he didn’t have much of a choice. The mimercycle caught up to him again, ramming him from the back and almost pitchin’ Winn off his bike. He slammed on the brakes, just enough that he heard the crunch of at least one of the mimes’ bones as it made contact with the metal. He abandoned the bike, running the rest of the way up to the veterinary clinic to greet his friend. “Hey, uh, take this, but do not touch the blade” he said, pullin’ his silver knife out its sheath and pressing it gently into Noah’s hands. “Silent-but-deadly is about to catch up to us. And, like, maybe focus on them instead of me if you don’t want to see my ass again.” Winn kicked off his boots and threw his jacket towards the clinic. This wasn’t how Winn wanted Noah to see the wolf for the first time, but there wasn’t any other choice. He couldn’t — wouldn’t — let Noah get hurt because he was scared. Never again.

Watching as the nightmarish scene played out before his very eyes, Noah couldn’t exactly figure out where to look first. Because in front of him was now a very sweaty looking Winn, his motorcycle, a terrifying mishmash of limbs dressed in black and white stripes, and oh, hey guess what. Looks like those are mimes. Fantastic. Just what he needed. The cherry on top of the perfectly fucked up day. Figuring it was better to roll with the metaphorical punches White Crest was dolling out than even try to question it (because mimes? really?), Noah sprung into action, closing the last few feet between him and Winn (oh hey hello Winn, nice to see you too, next time bring liquor, not not a shitshow of mimes) the wolf inside of him already relishing the possibility of a fight. Taking a split second, however, he looked over Winn, hoping that the other man wasn’t injured or anything, because that would make whatever this was going to turn into just that much harder. But just as soon as Noah finished his visual assessment on the man in front of him, Winn was pressing a blade into his hands, a silver knife to be exact. The thought making Noah’s skin already start to itch. “Wait, Winn, what the hell—” Noah started before Winn simply transformed.

It was near the Moon, a fact that Winn’s wolf was fully and completely aware of. He had time, just barely, to bark out a “Kill your own mime or it’ll come back.” It came out half as a growl, Winn’s teeth and jaw already warping into his lupine form. It was a little painful tonight, Winn noticed. But maybe the wolf was just eager to get its claws into a victim. He flung himself forward, knocking off his own mime, the clusterfuck of the mimercycle speeding along comically and crashing into a trash can sitting outside of the veterinary clinic. Uh-oh. They didn’t look very happy. Fortunately, neither did Noah. The other man was tense — hell, if he were a full wolf, Winn was almost sure he’d have burst into fur already. 

He didn’t have much time to wonder how Noah’s day had been, though, when his own mime slammed back into him, still in human form, just barely knocking the breath out of Winn. Maybe Winn would get lucky. Maybe his mime wasn’t a werewolf-mime, just a really-strong-human-ish-mime. He growled, clawing at the asphalt beneath his paws, rearing up on his leg. Was it too much to ask for his mime to get scared off? Apparently so. The mime grinned, all teeth, but without Winn’s trademark mirth. It was unnerving. And then, it started miming. It was… loading something? Into a… gun? No. Not a gun. A crossbo— Oh, fuck no, not this shit again. Winn’s reaction time, thank fuck, was great as a wolf when he wasn’t drunk as piss, and he rolled out of the way just in time. He heard the “bolt” thunk into something, it slowly fading into corporeality, the contours of the object becoming real. He whined in Noah’s general direction, trying to warn him that these assholes meant business. Why’d his mime get the cool toys?

“Kill your own mime or it’ll come back.” Those were the last words Winn spoke before he turned, body morphing into a full beast. He was hauntingly beautiful like this, Noah would have to give him that. But now was not the time to contemplate just how beautiful your wolf friend was in his other form, or how badly part of your heart ached to join him. Turning toward the mess that was currently trying to excavate itself from behind the dumpster, Noah noticed someone familiar, his trademark dimples somehow menacing on his painted face. Fucking hell, this mime looked like him, this mime looked like HIM. What the actual fuck. But Noah had no time to really contemplate this horrific being in front of him, because as soon as it stood up it was miming something. What, Noah had no clue and no time to find out. Fuckity fuck fuck. Focusing his energy, Noah lunged, trying to put what little knife training he had into practice, but not before the mime swung at him, some sort of invisible weapon tearing at the sleeve of his scrubs and ripping into the flesh of his forearm. Shit. The mime was miming a fucking invisible weapon. Noah’s eyes widened a little bit, fear now clouding his eyes, especially as the other two mimes flailed in the background. Okay, Kalani. Focus. You brought a knife to a mime fight and you are woefully outnumbered. 

Watching as the other two mimes started slowly resembling something more like humanoid beings and less like a collection of limbs, Noah knew what he had to do. And so he did it. He sprinted headfirst towards the obvious danger, throwing the knife as forcefully as he could, body already getting low and bracing for impact. Tackling. He was made for full contact, that much was evident as he rolled through the impact. Luckily the knife had caught in the mime in his shoulder before it had time to swing the invisible weapon at him, knocking it off balance and giving Noah just enough time to tackle. Excellent. Now get out of here and re-group, he urged himself as he scrambled away from, well, himself, hoping he wasn’t about to get jumped by the two other mimes while he was on the ground. 

But luckily, his getaway was smoother than expected, eyes focusing on one thing and one thing only, getting away from the mimes. But not before he saw something manifest next to the pile of mime limbs. It was comical almost how horrifying the manifestation was, jagged nails sticking out of a long bat shaped piece of wood. Yeah, it figured his own mime would conjure up something athletic. Scrambling as fast as he could,Noah grabbed his new weapon, hoping that Winn would forgive him for the change. Because yeah, he wasn’t really good with knives, but he sure as hell could swing a bat. And it was a good thing too, because as he straightened up into a standing position so did the other two mimes.

Winn had about had it with this mime fuckery, and the fight hadn’t even been going on that long. He saw pieces of Noah’s fight, flickering across his eyes as he avoided bolt after bolt, trying to get close to his own mime to get it out of the way. Just for a second, just long enough to help Noah. Three mime demons on one human was not a fair fight, and Winn could get rid of the other two easily enough. He just needed to get there. Winn saw Noah knife the Noah-mime (score one for Kalani), the smell of human blood lighting up his senses as the wind told him of Noah’s injury (ugh, score one for mimes). Damn it. Another bolt thunked into a nearby tree, and Winn decided to focus on his own mime. Noah’s mime was crumpled, momentarily, a few feet away. Winn’s mime had murder in its eyes, the smile gone from its face. Clearly, its memory of the incident with Kaden had left out some key details. Did it really think Winn was an easy target? As if. 

Winn rushed it, snarling and gnashing his teeth. He really hated to do this, but… He dove under one of the bolts as it launched, and latched his teeth into his mime’s leg. There was a flicker of hesitation in his heart, half-sure that biting the mime would hurt him. But fortunately, no such horror happened. He reared up on his hind-legs, spinning in a half circle and launching his mime into Noah’s, both of them rolling in an unholy tangle down the street just enough to (hopefully) give him time. And time he needed. Noah had, somehow, a bat straight off of The Walking Dead, and that motherfucker was currently being swung in the direction of the two minion-mimes. He grunted, landing beside Noah. Time to even the odds. 

Winn feinted at the left mime, the muted fear leading the mime to open its mouth in a silent scream as a hulking wolf-man headed its way, but at the last second he, and his outstretched claws, dove for the mime on the right. It was a close thing, and Winn hoped Noah could deal with the mime-that-who-pissed-itself, but Winn’s claws sank true and deep into the mime’s gut. He stuck his other paw out and into the mime’s stomach, yanking as hard as this form could, and the mime exploded into a puff of black-and-white smoke. One down, three to— Fuck. 

Something slammed into Winn’s side, hard. He rolled, rolled, and stopped, panting. And before him stood himself. Only this time, there was no easy smile, no mimed crossbow. Oh no. The mime had decided to get serious. And that meant Winn staring into his own eyes… as the wolf. A monster, hulking, as warped as Winn was elegant. It was a facsimile, the copy not quite right. Mutilated, likely, by the times it had been thrown around. Its fur was the worst part, striped as all mimes were, lines drawn across its powerful body like a warning. Danger. Where was a Hunter when you needed one?

Finally upright, Noah hardly had any time to take in his surroundings, or address the slippery trickle of blood he could feel slowly sliding down his arm, before a mass of black and white was hurtling toward his menacing imposter, knocking the mime down once again. Winn. He’d forgotten momentarily about the other man — correction, wolf — he was fighting alongside, but he was grateful for the assist nevertheless, especially as the two mime demons started their slow creep towards him, hands already shaping invisible items. Watching Winn out of the corner of his eyes, Noah was determined to bat cleanup (all puns intended) and swung with all his might at the mime Winn had left, resulting in a perfect headshot. And just like that, the demon vanished in a puff of smoke, marking their kill count as two. 

Using this split second of time to catch his breath, Noah looked around, hoping they were somehow winning? That's when he saw it. The grotesque caricature of a werewolf, one might say, striped, lumbering, its back to him, its eyes focused on one thing and one thing only. Winn. It was safe to say Noah didn’t know much about mimes, nor did he know much about werewolves, or the terrifying hybrid of both (yeah, he was going to have nightmares for YEARS). But watching his mime counterpart starting to stand again, hands clawing desperately at his wound, black sludge oozing, no, sizzling slowly out of the edges he knew one thing for sure. He actually did need that knife. Letting go of the bat, Noah dove low towards his own likeness again, bracing for another impact and using his momentum to carry him through. Tackling like this was infinitely harder without pads, but the adrenaline coursing through him refused to let him forget his years of muscle memory as he crashed yet again to the ground on top of 200 pounds of mime. 

Scrambling to get into a sitting position before an all too familiar pair of arms wrapped around him, Noah swung a couple of punches, channeling his own wolfy brute force and aggression to make them count. “Stay DOWN, you fucking MOTHER. FUCKER!” he screamed into his own face, the irony of the moment definitely not lost on him. But, of course, Noah had bigger fish to fry than to think about how much therapy he was going to need after this. Hoping his mime was stunned enough, Noah grabbed the knife and wrenched it out, hands, feet, and legs somehow clambering out of one special hell and into another. But not before he cocked his arm and aimed the already blackened, bloody knife into the meaty striped back of monstrous mime-wolf.

There were things that Winn knew about himself which, considering the crossbow situation, he had to assume that maybe this cursed thing knew too. For example, since the incident with Kaden, he was, ever-so-slightly, weaker on one side. Winn had learned to compensate, and knew that, soon, the Moon would undo the last of the damage the silver had done. The mime, though, wasn’t actually a wolf, and Winn could tell. It was in the way that it moved, the way that it seemed on-edge, even in its pure aggression. Winn, however, was intimately aware of his furrier half. And that was the edge he needed. The wolf inside (outside?) of him was howling, urging him onward to kill, kill, kill. 

Winn clawed once, twice, quickly swiping at the mime. He wasn’t trying to hit it, just throw it off-balance. Wolves were strong, he wouldn’t be able to just tear open its chest. But if he could get it on its back, he could tear out its throat. The soft skin was the weakest point he could think of, and he didn’t have the dagger on him (and he shuddered to think what it might do to him in this form). They went back-and-forth like that, as Winn heard Noah shout at his own double. He couldn’t make it out, too focused, but he could feel the fury from Noah. He wanted to howl in pride. The mime hesitated, hearing the fight behind it (and, oh God, did they care about each other?), and Winn saw his opportunity, sweeping his claws low at the side that Kaden had injured. As he made contact, he felt the mime-wolf tense — not from him, but from a knife to its back. He and Noah had gotten lucky, or maybe they were just in-sync, because the silver dagger sank true. (And Winn shuddered, for just a moment, remembering how the dagger had felt in his own back.) 

But this was his chance. He followed through, tripping the mime up and shoving it hard, on its back. Its mouth opened in a silent scream as the silver jammed deeper into its back, its neck exposed. And Winn went for the kill, snarling as he ripped its throat out, the body fading in striped waves as the mime choked on its own tar. But this wasn’t over, not yet. He needed to help Noah. The dagger laid in front of him, messy and black, and Winn took a chance. Winn made an angry, barking sound, trying to get Noah’s attention, before picking up the knife in his mouth (barely missing the silver of the blade) and flinging it in a high arc through the air. Alright, football boy. Fetch.

Letting the knife quite literally slip out of his hands from all of the mime blood it was drenched in, Noah hoped he had helped in some capacity, the wound in the mime-wolf’s back already bubbling out thick, viscous black sludge. It was almost as if the skin was boiling off, and Noah couldn’t help the shiver that went down his spine. Was this really what happened when real wolves came in contact with silver knives? Because if so, then that was the real scary stuff right there. Bringing his focus back to the task at hand Noah made sure to wipe what he could off his hands on his scrubs, his wolf healing not fast enough to really seal the wound, but just fast enough to keep him from feeling the effects of his blood loss. 

Looking around for the bat from hell, Noah stared in horror as it dawned on him. In his haste to help Winn he’d accidentally thrown the bat towards his mime, not away from him. Fuck his life. Because yeah, he was left weaponless, watching helplessly as his mime-self did not fucking stay down like he had been so kindly asked to do. Hearing the bark from behind him, though, Noah turned just in time to see Winn’s wolf form pitch forward, something silver hurtling in an upward arc towards him. Wait, was that the knife? Oh thank heavens, the flying thing was the knife. Wait… no, no, no, the knife was flying, spinning like an unwieldy bullet, and, oh God, who did Winn think he was? Tom Brady? Because he was most definitely not Tom Brady. No, Noah was trained to go crash crash boom boom, not spinny twirly jumpy catchy. 

But seeing as how the wolf gave him no choice, up Noah went, praying to all that was holy that he could manage to catch the knife on the butt end. It took a second, maybe less before the younger boy completed his jump, hand luckily catching the knife with only minimal damage to the palm of his hand. Readjusting his grip, Noah twisted back toward his own mimesona, its dimples still pulled in that menacing smile. Holding the knife as tightly as he could, Noah sprinted forward, using his own body as a battering ram of sorts before he plunged the knife into the heart of the mime, pitching them backwards and onto the concrete for the third and last time. And just like that, it was over, a pile of oozing black goo where his own grizzly persona had once stood.

Fucking… hell. “I hate mimes,” Winn said — or, well, tried to say. It came out as a whiny, half-growl, the lupine mouth trying to create sounds it was simply incapable of. The wolf was… happy. More or less. Noah wasn’t badly injured, Winn and Noah had defeated their mimes, and Winn’s bike was still in working condition. Winn’s clothes, however, had not survived the experience. And though mime magic (maybe?) had kept the town clear, Winn doubted that his luck would last for much longer. He needed to get inside, and he needed to get inside now. If he were a born wolf, he could transform further, pretend to be… a really big dog? Noah could lie. Hopefully. Maybe. Winn went over to the other man, sniffing at his injury and whining in the back of his throat. It was healing. Not as fast as Winn would heal, in the same situation, but it would be fine. He could tell. Noah was covered in mime goop, though even that was fading into puffs of striped smoke. 

He huffed out a noise, taking Noah into his arms and hugging him as the wolf, careful not to let his claws hurt Noah. He dwarfed the man, in this form, but he could already feel the adrenaline running out of his body. The wolf was tired, and that meant, well, Winn had two options. He could hope that Noah forgave him for yet another incident involving Winn’s dick, or he could run away. Winn knew what he had to do. He picked up Noah quickly, carrying them over to the alleyway beside the clinic, obscured, just barely, by the dumpster that had been shoved in the fight, and turned back, still embracing the other man. He was glad, so glad, that he was okay. He… didn’t know what he would have done if Noah had been hurt. He didn’t know what Noah would have done if Winn hadn’t been there to help fend off the mimes. 

Winn leaned his head into Noah’s shoulder. He smelled, he knew, pretty bad, the mime gunk leaving a stench from the places it had congealed in his fur. If that smell didn’t come out, Winn would have to stand in the rain for the next week. Wet dog was better than dead mime. “So,” he said, after holding Noah for a long moment, “I’m naked, and gross. Do y’all have a shower and, uh, can I borrow your scrubs? Don’t want to ruin a nicer pair of clothes, since those seem not long for this world. I can, uh, I can stay here until it’s all clear. Just bring me, uh, a towel or somethin’?” He was rambling. Winn pulled back from the hug, looking into Noah’s eyes, and feeling that same pull he’d been trying to forget about. Sober, Winn resisted, a half-smile forming on his face. “We kinda kicked ass, huh?”

Even covered in the stupid mime goop, that was already starting to evaporate into oddly striped smoke, Noah couldn’t help but smile. He did it. They did it. How? He didn’t have the slightest clue, but that wasn’t what mattered, in this moment anyway. No what mattered was Winn. As if on cue, Noah felt the wolf’s arms wrap around him, a weird feeling of comfort washing over him. “Hey bud,” he whispered softly, hand reaching up to intertwine into the course fur surrounding Winn’s muzzle. “Really glad you’re okay.” Because he honestly was glad that Winn was okay, relieved even. Because if Winn had… No. He wasn’t going to think about that. He didn’t need to think about that. What he really needed to think about was why in the world he was being lifted into the air?! 

“Holy shit!” Noah exclaimed, clearly not expecting Winn’s wolf to heft him up like a small child, arms and legs flailing (only slightly) out from underneath him. “Winn, what the hell,” he grunted out as he was deposited behind the dirty mime dumpster, somehow now hugging a naked man. Typical Winn Woods. Sighing, the younger man ran a hand though the dirty mop of hair now resting on his shoulder, somehow finding it hard to care too much about the awkward predicament Winn was putting him through right now. It was just nice to be hugged after all, and nice to know they were both not going to be mime dinner. “Yeah, I can find you something to wear, just give me a few seconds to breathe,” he murmured in response to Winn’s plea for clothes, not really wanting this moment to end. But all good moments did have to end sooner or later. 

As Winn pulled away from the hug, another one of Noah’s worst nightmares unfolded before his eyes. “Hello employee, and strange man hugging said employee.” The almost monotone timber and dry cadence rippled through the alleyway, sending chills rippling down Noah’s spine. Dr. Choi. Freezing on the spot, Noah gulped involuntarily, not knowing whether to jump on top of Winn (to cover his nakedness, of course) or to scramble away from him. Shit. “Noah, I’m guessing you’d like a spare pair of scrubs for your guest here, and possibly for yourself?” she continued as she raised a small, thin eyebrow eyebrow in the pair’s direction, apparently unphased by him covered in blood hugging a naked man behind a dumpster. “Uh, yes please.” Looking at Winn and then back to Dr. Choi and then back at Winn again, Noah could feel his brain start to literally malfunction. His mouth was devoid of words, incapable of forming even the smallest sentence so he just nodded instead, hoping that would be enough. “I’ll leave them on the counter next to the dog tub, then,” she replied nonchalantly before turning on her heel and walking back inside the clinic.

“Y’know,” Winn said as Noah led his naked ass into the clinic, “you’re handling my furrier half pretty well.” Hell, Noah had touched him — let Winn touch him — while in that form. Winn felt the warmth from Noah’s hand, still recent on his cheeks, and smiled like a goof. And Noah was havin’ far less of a freakout over Winn’s naked body than the other night. (Though, it likely helped that they’d both just nearly died, that everyone was sober, and that there was no morning wood afterwards this time.) The vet seemed chill in a way that Winn could appreciate… though, almost too chill? He sniffed the air, trying to smell anything odd, but all he could for his trouble was the tarry smell of the mimes. Yuck. 

Winn spotted the dog tub, making a beeline. He’d showered with a hose in the middle of nowhere before, this wasn’t all that different. Out of the corner of his eye, Winn saw Noah about to leave the room, to give him some privacy and whined. Wait, no, human form. Words. “Hey, um… Please don’t leave. I mean, don’t have to scrub my back or nothin’, but, um… Just need to make sure you’re safe. It’s a wolf thing. Kinda. And don’t you want to get a little cleaner, too, bro?” Winn winced, turning on the water and bracing himself against the cold, scrubbing at the occasional scrape that the mimes had torn into his skin, trying to make sure that, at least, the dirt was all out of it before it healed up. He reached over the edge of the tub to swipe some pup shampoo, figuring it was… mostly the same, right? “So, uh, I’m bushed,” Winn said, running his hands through his hair to get whatever remaining muck out. “But I need to borrow your phone for a sec. Mine’s back on the pavement somewhere, and there’s some shit goin’ down, and I need to make sure that everythin’ is alright? I’ll explain, promise.” Clean enough, Winn grabbed the huge towel that the good vet had left for them, knowing that he prolly smelled like a wet dog. Hot. Super great. Good thing Noah was used to the smell. 

He shook his hair out, before drying it off like, y’know, a human, and slipped into the scrubs, back turned to the tub. They were about his size, prolly a spare pair of Noah’s, though the lack of underwear didn’t do any favors for him in the, uh, cling department. Alright, first home, take Noah with him, get them both fed. Provide. Wait, no. He shushed the wolf, even as his stomach growled loudly. Miles, Ariana, and… Ulf, whoever-the-fuck-that-was, were on the case, and Winn knew he’d be next-to-useless now, as beat up as he was. He’d check in with Miles, ASAP, and be there for him and his brother. Like a good packma— Winn paused. Like a good friend. Speaking of friends, though… He turned around. 

Noah’s eyes were closed, and Winn took the opportunity to take in the sight before him for just a moment. The other man was built, he’d known that much, but Winn wasn’t prepared for the curves and edges of the other man’s body. He averted his eyes from Noah’s dangly bits, not wantin’ to be a creep, and his eyes landed on a scar on the Noah’s hip. Old, Winn could tell. From the transplant, then. He felt a flare of anger at Noah’s donor. Saving his life, but dooming him to pain, was irresponsible. Noah should’ve gotten a choice — someone should’ve given him the Bite. Winn needed to bring it up, somehow. But, for now, he threw the towel at the other man. “Dinner time,” he said, a wolfish (ha) grin on his face. “My treat. Make up for all of the, uh, nudity. Unless,” Winn added, before he could stop himself, “ya liked it, that is.” And with a wink, Winn turned around to go find his jacket and boots, and lock up his bike for the night, satisfied by the simple joy of being alive.

“Winn, I just killed a Stephen King-inspired Halloween costume version of myself with my own bare hands,” Noah huffed out, grateful that none of the other techs were poking around to watch him lead a very naked man into the backroom. “Your furry little problem is the least of mine right now.” Because yeah, the grand mindfuckery of a situation that was happening — Winn’s wolf form, as well as his dick being out (again) — was really just turning into a normal day in the life of one Noah Kalani. Well almost. The wolf thing did spark a lot of questions, but one crisis at a time. 

Turning on the faucet in the tub, Noah backed away, despite the small wolfy part of his mind screaming at him not to let his friend out of his sight. But apparently this nice human-focused gesture wasn’t needed. “It's a wolf thing.” Winn explained almost nonchalantly, and Noah hadn't even realized those were the words he had been searching for until they were hanging in the air between them. It's a wolf thing. The idea itself wasn't strange, no. Noah had been using that as an excuse for years, but it was strange to have something that usually only existed inside his own mind uttered back to him, and by someone so casually. 

Glancing over at Winn as he scrubbed himself down, Noah allowed himself a lingering glance, something about this more raw encounter different than all the other times he’d seen Winn. And maybe that was because Noah was finally truly seeing. Seeing the possibilities, as well as vulnerabilities of Winn Woods, the other man’s body in various stages of healing, and an angry bite scar maring the skin of his right hip. A small blush that colored Noah’s cheeks. Winn was actually really beautiful in his human form. But he’d also been beautiful as a wolf, that much was true. 

Pushing this new strange dichotomy out of his mind, Noah gingerly stripped off his scrubs, intent on ridding himself of any and all lingering mime. Handing Winn his phone he’d retrieved from the bench before they’d gone inside, Noah jumped into the tub that Winn had so graciously vacated, trying to make his time in the dog shower as quick as possible. Catching the towel that was thrown at him, Noah dried, giving Winn a playful eye roll as he did. “Your nudity is about as welcome to me as those mimes were,” he lied, jumping into his new pair of scrubs and following the other man out of the door with a grin. It had been a rough day but, somehow, it was starting to look better.

#wickedswriting #para #Noah #The Mimercycle #wickedsevent

[kadavernagh]

Of Little Comfort || Regan & Kaden

TIMING: Current and immediately following New Heights LOCATION: Coffee Plus Plus in The Outskirts + Kaden’s apartment PARTIES: @kadavernagh and @chasseurdeloup (guest starring Abel) SUMMARY: Kaden is tall.

Oh Gould Golgi Gram god what the hell was happening!? Regan stared at the pile of her clothes on the patio, the short-sleeved turtleneck and the ugly necklace and the slacks and she couldn’t stop shaking. They were Mt. Everest. They were huge. Everything was huge. She’d slapped her face a few times, tried to squeeze her eyes shut and will all of this away again, but things were just as dire and enormous as they were when the monster-formerly-known-as-Felix went lumbering into the woods like a giant, shadows trailing off of him. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t be. A bird nearly killed her. A bird. And -- and Felix may have had antlers, and was some kind of monster, and everything was -- everything was -- she looked up at the chair she’d been sitting at only minutes ago. It looked like a skyscraper. 

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, staring straight ahead, trying to pretend none of this was real. But birdsong snapped her out of it. She used to like the sound. Now it was a threat.

Kaden. She needed to tell Kaden. Tell him what, she didn’t even know. Something. Regan managed to burrow into her mountain of clothes and find her Nokia. She couldn’t move it, but at least the damn thing wasn’t so outdated that it didn’t have talk-to-text. She struggled with the keys and cried in relief when the phone picked up on her voice. Managed to send a message. Kaden would be on the way. He would be, right? Regan clung to her shirt, tried to wrap herself up in it; she could fit several fingers underneath a single stitch. Time seemed to stand still again. She was pretty sure she cried. Screamed. But she felt outside of her own body; she supposed, in a way, she was. 

Something thumped down nearby, and Regan jumped. Was someone -- no. Not a someone. A squirrel the size of a horse. She stared up at the yellow of its teeth and the hunger in its dark rodent eyes, and she knew what was about to happen. Her slow heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest and her lungs heaved as a never-ending scream poured out and she ran as quickly as her feet could carry her. Launched herself off the short step up to the patio as the squirrel chittered at her heels. Rolled into the grass. Regan kept screaming and spat dirt out of her mouth, but didn’t have long before the squirrel leaped effortlessly into the grass with her, giving chase. 

“Help.” Kaden didn’t need to read the rest of the texts before running to grab his keys and head halfway out the door. It was damn near close to embarrassing how fast he reacted the second someone he cared about asked nowadays. He didn’t want to be the idiot always worried and fucking panicking about shit that probably wasn’t as bad as he imagined, but here the fuck he was. In his defense, it didn’t help that the rest of the texts from Regan were damn close to nonsensical. Not that it mattered too much, he could read the panic in them and that was enough for him. He’d think he’d be a little used to them by now in a way. It seemed like lately she found more trouble than Blanche. 

Shit, Kaden realized once he was in the car, keys turned, ignition running, he had no fucking clue where he was going. Not that not knowing where he was looking for had stopped him before when Regan had run off into the woods. He pushed away the knot forming in his stomach and punched out a few texts and waited, pulse rising with every minute before he got a reply. Coffee Plus Plus. He sped off. Maybe he should have used the animal control truck in case he needed a good fucking excuse for his speeding but not like it stopped him now.

When he got out he looked around for her and saw no one in sight. “Regan?” Kaden asked. Nothing. Approaching the patio, he saw a familiar necklace buried in a pile of clothes. A fucking turtleneck. Shit. His hand shook as he picked it up. What the fuck happened? When did this happen? Fuck. Fuck. Was he too late. No. Stop panicking. He pulled a deep breath of air into his lungs, held it as long as he could. For the few seconds he did, he heard a high pitched, inhuman noise. One that was far too familiar. Only it was much quieter than normal. Huh. That was…

Kaden looked around, trying to pinpoint the direction. It was somewhere a bit away from the patio. His eyes caught a flash of movement. A squirrel. Right, not what he was looking for. Who cared if a squirrel was chasing a-- Putain. Another small but still strangely ear piercing scream came from that same direction. Along with a flash of wings and what looked almost like skin. If he squinted, it looked like a pixie. A running pixie? What the--

“You’ve got to be kidding m--” The squirrel lunged at her, teeth ready to chomp down on her miniature wings, and Kaden was shaken out of his frozen state. He ran over and started shouting, hoping to scare the animal away. Lots of French cursing. Lots of arm waving. It squeaked and hopped to the side, but something about it was determined to torment what he was pretty sure was Regan. Somehow. Kaden reached down and grabbed a few pebbles and started chucking them at the fucking squirrel. Hopefully Regan figured out how to fucking duck. “Back off, Rocky!” he yelled at it. Flying rocks were enough, apparently, and it squealed again and skittered away towards a nearby tree. Good. Kaden ran over to try and scoop his girlfriend to safety. “Shit Regan, what the fuck happened?”

PUTAIN DE MERDE bellowed into Regan’s ears in Kaden’s unusually deep voice, and Regan leaped into the air just as the squirrel nearly bit into a wing. Kaden. He was here. Where was he? Her head whipped around as she looked for him in the forest of grass, but all she could see were two leg-shaped skyscrapers and -- oh. Oh. He was -- why was he so -- but she was the one who was -- crap. Shit. Regan didn’t have time to dwell on it before a rock made impact nearby like a missile and she screamed again, ducked to the ground and held her arms over her head. There was another loud thunk and dirt being kicked up as a second rock fell, and the squirrel made a vicious chittering noise and Regan couldn’t bring herself to look at what was happening. She stayed close to the ground, trembling. She tried to close her eyes again and hope that everything would be back to normal the moment she opened them. Kept them squeezed shut even as the field of beige underneath her eyelids grew dark, like something big and heavy was covering her.

Picking her up.

Regan’s eyes shot open and she screamed. Again. It was a hand. She pressed herself against the palm and wrapped her arms around one of the fingers and kept screaming because she was in a fucking hand and it was lifting her up and she didn’t want to look down and she was in a hand. Her heart was about to jump out of her tiny chest and she couldn’t slow her breathing no matter how many times she tried to remember Deirdre’s exercises and the scream kept pouring out and she was being lifted higher and higher until -- the palm underneath her flattened but she stayed wrapped around a finger as she was brought eye level with -- with Kaden!? His giant eyes were flooded with concern and the scar that ran over his cheek was practically the same size she was, and still, Regan couldn’t stop screaming. She was staring at her boyfriend’s enormous face and hugging his hand and what the fuck was happening?? Her scream started to trail off and she heard Kaden asking a similar question to what she was thinking, his voice booming and deep and she could feel its vibrations all throughout her body. She coughed and sputtered and kept her arms tightly around his finger. Tried not to look down. Tried not to even think about looking down. 

“I don’t -- I -- I was just getting coffee with Felix and this happened and everything is huge and you’re --” Regan swallowed, finally loosening her grip on him slightly. But only a little. She couldn’t even think about letting go, not when she was this high up. “You’re giant.” No, she realized with a pang of absolute terror. He wasn’t giant. She was the problem. That thought sent a spike of horror through her, and she trembled. “Kaden, I -- what’s happening? I have autopsies to do. I -- Felix. Felix went into the woods. He was huge. I mean, bigger than you, and he --” The antlers. The eyes like searchlights. She didn’t even know how to describe them. Regan sobbed and made the mistake she’d been trying to avoid: she looked down. The grass felt like it was miles below her and she could see the squirrel circling around like a shark, and the only thing standing between herself and falling to her death was Kaden’s hand, and before she knew what she was doing, another scream shot out of her.

In all the commotion, Kaden didn’t really get a chance to process the fact that he was holding Regan in his hand. She looked like a goddamn pixie. Oh shit, was she really a pixie this whole time? Was that possible? Is that what happened when she activated? Was it delayed? Any fears of that were quelled by the screaming. If she’s been at full size, he’d be curled up on the ground in pain, clutching his bleeding ears. As it stood (very shortly) right now, the screams did little more than make him wince. He could feel the vibrations rattling the bones in his hands but shit, if every scream of hers was just this? Well he wouldn’t be bugging Cece for magical earplug alternatives that was for sure. 

That was about the only part of this he wasn’t panicking about. With his free hand he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Felix was with you?” Of course she was still talking about work when she was only a few inches tall. He tried to listen to everything she was rattling off, trying to parse out what was important between the frantic squeaks. He didn’t think enhanced hunter hearing was intended for this. “No I’m not giant. You’re just very small. About the size of—” Dare he bring up Rumpleskuffs? Maybe not yet. Still. Felix. What the hell was she doing with him? She clearly didn’t know he dealt drugs. At least Kaden was pretty fucking sure those were drugs he was offering that one time. No way Regan knew anything about any drug activity of any kind; she’d outlaw cigarettes if she could he was pretty fucking sure. And why would they change sizes? Was it—

Putain. That was right. Felix has been with him when they tried to blow up the restaurant. This was payback from the mimes. Some kind of weird magic crap again. It had to be them. This shit had stripes all over it. With a beret on top. “Hey. Regan. Hey!” Kaden tried to get her attention in the middle of her scream, squinting and holding her a bit father from his face as she did. Not as bad but it was far from pleasant. “Breathe. I’ll get you back back to mine and we’ll fix this. But you have to breathe and stop screaming.” He walked them slowly over to the car and sat her gently on the passenger seat. Fuck, this was weird. Even by his standards. He really missed when wings were the weirdest thing their relationship had to endure. “I’m going to get your clothes and stuff. I’ll be right back.” 

Every time Kaden took a step or even shifted his weight, Regan clutched his fingers again to keep her balance. The sight of the sea of grass so far below made her dizzy and nauseated, and the unbridled, terrifying weirdness of her situation kept flooding her mind. She was sitting on Kaden’s hand. And he was saying something -- saying things -- but she couldn’t stop screaming until all of the oxygen was exhausted from her lungs and she was too tired to draw in another big breath of air. When she didn’t have it in her to scream anymore, she collapsed in a heap in his palm, arms wrapping around her legs. Closed her eyes. That didn’t help much; she could still feel every twitch of movement. Even Kaden’s pulse pounded through her whole body. It was fast. Healthy, though. Breathe, he’d told her. Easier said than done. She opened her eyes and wanted to scream all over again. 

This had to be a nightmare. She held on tight as Kaden walked toward the parking lot, each step threatening to buck her off his hand. “Felix. Yes. He -- How do you know we can fix this? You said that about--” She stopped herself. Kaden still felt horrible about that, she knew. And even though Kaden sounded remarkably calm and composed right now, his pulse told another story entirely. Regan slid off his hand and was gently dropped into the passenger seat, even though it took her a moment to realize that was where she was sitting. It was enormous. It swallowed her. Even with Kaden’s assurance that he’d be right back, the anxiety was inescapable. Everything was huge. Wrong. And even though she realized she was the one who was tiny, that thought was even more distressing.

There was a loud noise as the backseat of the car opened and a gust of air as her clothes were tossed in. She spotted the dull shine of her necklace. Reached behind her back and felt the wings. Great. Even though part of her knew it was coming, the sound of the door slamming was like an atomic bomb going off, and Regan leaped into the air and then curled up in the middle of the seat. There would be another one in a second. Driver’s door opening. Kaden hopping into the car like it wasn’t the size of an entire house. Regan stayed curled up and put her hands over her ears in anticipation; it wasn’t much help as the door slammed closed. Key in the ignition. But -- “Kaden, we’re breaking the law. I -- seat belt. Both operators and passengers always need to be buckled in. Click it or ticket, remember?” Regan chanced standing up on the seat. It wasn’t firm; she imagined it was like standing on a cup of Jell-O. Still, she did her best to reach the seatbelt, before realizing just how impossible the task of even moving it was going to be, let alone buckling it. And it would crush her. That was a problem, too. She’d autopsied all sorts of crush victims before, but never anyone who died because a seatbelt fell on them. The thought was almost darkly humorous. “Um, there are a lot of crumbs in here, you know.”

“This is different.” It had to be. This size thing was not part of the banshee package. Kaden was sure of it. Uh, but maybe he should double check with Deirdre. Just in case. But this didn’t seem like part of her species and it didn’t seem like a curse, not like a Morgan type of curse. It seemed like a prank or some sort of revenge if he had to guess. Maybe just a spell gone wrong if it targeted two of them. And one fae and one human. It was strange. “We’re going to fix it.” He could handle a lot of weird things for her as he was finding out. But this? This was too much. 

When he went to grab her clothes, Kaden made sure he had everything, including the necklace, and did a quick check around the patio where she said they were seated. There was nothing strange aside from a broken umbrella that almost looked like it was slowly repairing itself right in front of him. Hell, the coffee was gone already. The table bused, the seats cleared. It was like nothing ever happened. “Hey, did you see what happened here?” he asked waving the nearest server over. He looked at Kaden, tilting his head.

“What do you mean?” the server asked.

“I mean did you see anything. Right here. Ten maybe fifteen minutes ago at most.” Kaden asked. “Who served them? Did you? Tall guy, sunglasses at night. And a woman with bright green eyes. Stunning. Wearing a turtleneck. Ringing any bells?”

“Sir, no one has sat here all night. I think you need to leave. And it sounds like your girlfriend might be cheating on you. Which might be happening because you’re out of your mind.” The server walked away, not without shooting a look down at the clothes in his hand. Well that was fucking useless. Kaden took one last look around before he felt a pang of guilt. Shit. Something about not leaving a pixie alone in a hot car by themselves. No. Wait. That was dogs. Or Children. Putain de merde. 

Kaden ran back to the car and threw the clothes in the back seat before heading back around to the driver’s seat. A quick glance, she was still there. Good. Weird. But mostly good. He started the car and was about to drive off when she protested. His hand stopped midway before grabbing the gear to shift out of park. He sat there blinking a few moments. “I’m sorry, what?” He looked back at her small form, then back up at the seatbelt, then down at her. “You’re the size of a large bug, Regan. I think that seatbelt might do more harm than good.” The look on her teeny tiny face sure suggested there was only going to be a whole lot of screaming if he refused. With a deep sigh, he reached over and pulled down the seatbelt. “Move out of the way real quick. So I don’t flatten you with a fucking seatbelt.” 

Once that was done, Kaden carefully and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. He was pretty sure he’d never driven that slow in his entire life. But there was no doubt this was going to be bumpier and rougher than any thrill ride at her size. “Hey, there are not that many crumbs. The car is just old. It happens.” Driving this slow was killing him but he’d rather not give her a heart attack on the way home. There was no way to do CPR on her when she was that small. “You may want to close your eyes,” he told her, hoping that might make the ride a little less disorienting.  

Regan tried to internalize Kaden’s confidence. He said they would fix this. He knew that they would. But all she could think of was that moment on the couch at home, Kaden taking her cold hands in his and saying -- nearly promising -- that they would find a way to fix that. The coldness. The wings, the screaming, even though he hadn’t known about those details at the time. And then again, at his apartment -- I can’t fix this, Regan. What if another moment like that would follow? What if she really was stuck like this? Just like the wings. Just like the screaming. Regan hugged the seatbelt, even though it wasn’t even close to fitting her. Her chest ached to keep screaming, but she knew Kaden was right. She needed to breathe. And close her eyes. Her stomach was already emptied of all its contents from earlier, but that didn’t stop the nausea from climbing up and curdling with every bump in the road. Each sent her flying, and she clung to the belt for dear life. 

Whenever the road evened out and opening her eyes felt tolerable, Regan tried to steal glances at Kaden. His mouth was a thin, terse line, and his eyes were somehow both hard and wet. Had she been able to see his knuckles from this angle, she suspected they’d be burning white as they strained against the wheel. She wasn’t sure she’d seen him like this before. The closest she could think of was that same night he said he’d fix things before. The second reminder of that in the last few minutes made her insides knot up even worse. “Kaden?” She asked, unsure if he could even hear her. “We’ll be able to fix this. Right?” She could feel her heart thumping slowly at the question. “Are you… are you okay? I’m not. It’s okay if you’re not. I’m fucking scared.” 

The windows were too tall for Regan to see out of, but she counted the turns she felt the car taking underneath her. Tried to count the seconds, the minutes, just to get her mind off everything else that threatened to chip away at her sanity right now. They had to be almost there. He parked the car. Looked at her. Regan unfurled her legs and tried to stand up; not only was the seat like Jell-O, but all her muscles felt like it, too. The ride had jostled every single organ inside of her. A few specific decedents came to mind. “Why your place? I want -- can you take me home? If I sleep this off, maybe tomorrow everything’ll be -- I’ll be able to go to work.”

If he concentrated on the road, maybe Kaden could ignore the utter nonsense happening right now. He could pretend he was driving home and they could get that normal week they kept desperately trying to have. “Hmm?” He shot a quick glance, almost missed her words, her voice so much smaller. Of course. She had to ask him again if they could fix this. His throat closed up this time and he tightened his grip on the wheel. Hell, he wished he could slam the gas down and speed off. It might make him feel a little better, less tense, who knew. He gave a curt nod insead. “I know this-- Last time I--” He was trying not to equate this to when he felt her pulse way back when. But she was. “This isn’t just you this time. It feels different. We’ll find a way to fix this. Maybe not right away but--” He felt like every word was hollow and the more he spoke, the more it chipped away at his confidence. Last time he’d been so sure and he’d been so wrong. Maybe it was wrong to feel the same now.   

“I-- I have to be okay while I’m driving.” It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely. Kaden had to keep it together long enough to get back. Maybe long enough to get her settled. He could freak out and fall apart after. Part one was fix what he could. Part two could come later. As they pulled along the street in front of his apartment, turning off the car, Kaden inhaled deep and ran his hands through his hair as he exhaled. Right. Time to get her inside. “What do you mean why my place? You’re a few inches tall, how the hell are you going to do anything by yourself right now? You can barely make it across the room. You cannot go to work like this.” He was going to need a fucking drink once he was inside. “Plus, Abel.” Merde. Abel. This was going to be fun.

Kaden reached back for the necklace and clothes and draped them over his arm as he scooped her up in one hand on his way upstairs. He tripped a little on one of the steps up to the door and apologized. Shit, what a time to be clumsy. Kaden took another deep breath in front of his door as he heard the barking coming from the otherside. “I’m going to lift you up above my head, alright? Just so Abel doesn’t, uh, you know.” So he didn’t try to eat her. He pushed through with her balanced on his hand, held high above his head. “Abel, calm down. Sit. Sit!” It took a few tries but the dog did calm down and he was able to set her on the counter top, one tall enough that Abel couldn’t quite reach with his snoot. That didn’t stop him from trying or sniffing. “It’s Regan. Smell her? It’s Regan, alright. Just smaller. Be nice.”

Even though Kaden told her what he was about to do, nothing could have prepared Regan for being lifted what she knew was actually about 6 and a half feet off the ground, but looking down and feeling like she’d just been launched into orbit. She lied flat against Kaden’s palm and clung onto his fingers like a lifeline, her heart pulsing out of her chest. Abel wouldn’t really eat her, would he? He -- but he was a hunting dog, and she was peanut butter treat sized. Actually, didn’t she have one in her pocket? Regan reached down to fish it out and was reminded, again, that she was nude and her clothes were the size of a small mountain. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about how high up she was, and heard Kaden booming out commands to Abel. Felt it, too, as the vibrations of his voice carried through his body and up his arm. He really was worried that he was going to eat her. Shit. This was a bad idea. Kaden should have just brought her back to her own apartment.

In quick order, there was a cold surface shoved underneath her and Regan dared to open her eyes, hoping that meant she was no longer being held over Kaden’s head. She wasn’t. She was on Kaden’s counter. If the situation hadn’t been so terrifying she could have laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Where’s Abel?” She looked up at him. And for the first time, she was able to really take stock of how giant Kaden seemed in comparison. She could see every hair and pore on his face, could smell the nicotine on his breath like it was a gust of wind. One misplaced hand from him, and she was dead. The thought made her shake. Take several steps back. Kaden had said she was only a few inches tall, but she had assumed that was an exaggeration. The pit forming in her stomach indicated that it wasn’t. The question of where Abel went was quickly answered as a massive, wet, black nose bobbed up to the edge of the table. Regan could practically see herself in the shine of it, and the intricate pattern of the nose leathers was more apparent than ever. But it was the blast of air and dog breath that hit her that made a scream pitch out of her throat. She fell backwards and scuttled across the table, trying to move far away from Abel’s nose. “Abel?” She finally asked, the scream dying down. Crawled a little closer to the edge, where his nose bobbed back up. She was too afraid to reach out, but maybe if he could sniff her for a little while, it would help.

Regan looked back up at Kaden, trying to ignore the huffs of air coming from the giant nose. “Okay.” She said shakily, her voice small. “Okay. You said we can fix this. You’re sure we can fix this. What do we -- what do we do?” She paused, something occurring to her, not for the first time. “I’m asking you, because you’re always weirdly familiar with things that -- things like this.”  

Once she was down on the counter, Kaden watched a moment, ready to jump in in case Abel got any ideas. So far, at least it seemed okay. Except for the fact she was shivering. He knew full well he’d carried her clothes in and he’d definitely noticed she was naked on top of being miniature but it wasn’t exactly at the forefront of his mind until now when he had a second to process. “Abel. Sit.” He did. For now. Still, it seemed safe enough to walk away. “Scream if you need me to crate him, okay?” Maybe that would keep her from just screaming in general. He doubted it.

The odds and ends in Kaden’s junk drawer in the kitchen were less helpful than he’d like. Plastic ware? Not going to cut it. Soy sauce packets? She might be the size of a sushi roll but that was hardly useful right now. Batteries. Not going to fuel anything. Keys that opened things he couldn’t recall what they went to wouldn’t unlock any solutions either. The napkin was better than nothing so he reached over to place it next to her. “Here,” he said as he went back to poking around the drawer.

His owner had told him to sit but it had been long enough so Abel stood back up and sniffed and snuffed a little more around the edge of the counter. Oh. He knew that smell. That was the scent of the peanut butter treat lady with the big scary things on her back that came over a lot. He snuffed again. Also squirrel and bird. But more peanut butter lady than anything. Must be her. Much smaller than normal. And her sounds were less scary, too, but he still didn’t like them. He waited until they stopped and then rested his chin against the ledge and looked at her, tongue hanging to the side, clearly waiting for his treat from the now far too tiny peanut butter lady. Maybe if he spoke and reminded her that he was here, she would feed him. He gave a small bark followed by a whine to let her know he was there in case she forgot about him. Still no treat. 

Kaden shuffled through the drawer one last time and there wasn’t much. But he did find one thing. Putain. It was still in his hand when he heard a scream and ran back to see what was happening. “Abel, no! Regan are you--” Abel just sat back down and looked at him like he expected a treat. Regan seemed alright enough. Mostly. Other than, well, yeah. He breathed a momentary sigh of relief. “Right. Fix this. Yeah.” So she’d caught on that he knew about the supernatural. Not surprising but he supposed that was a step in the right direction. “I, uh, I don’t know yet. This-- I know it sounds insane. But it seems like some kind of magic. I have a few people who might know more than me. But just, anything you can remember. Anything at all. It might help.” He felt a cold wet nose nudge him and he remembered he still had something in his hand. “Oh. Right. I, uh, I found this. Don’t ask,” he said and held out to her the pixie-sized mime shirt that Rumpleskuffs had been wearing when he first showed up. 

Despite Regan’s insistence that she wanted to be dropped off at home, she didn’t want Kaden to leave. Fear ran through her when he asked her to hollar -- well, scream -- if she needed him to crate Abel, and she found herself looking over at the nose again, like it was a shark fin skimming the surface. Even on a good day, most things made her want to scream. And this was not a good day. She followed Kaden with her eyes, walking along the surface of the counter to stay as close to him as she could, even as he dipped into the other room. She heard plastic against plastic and scraping noises, like he was rummaging through something. When it stopped, he stomped back over to the counter and set down a napkin, which only made her more confused. “I’m not hungry.” She mumbled, before realizing what it was actually for. Oh. She sighed and draped it over herself like a blanket. The wings flickered against it, rebelling against being trapped. “Thanks.” It was just about all she could muster, even though she knew Kaden was perhaps having just as hard a time with this as she was.

There was the nose again. Regan’s hair got pulled into Abel’s inhalation and she doubled back. Even though it seemed like he’d calmed down, she wasn’t taking any chances. She edged away from him and when she thought she was out of line of “sight” for his nose, a loud, booming bark shook every bone in her body. Could he reach the table? Was he about to leap up? Was he going to devour her instead of the treats she usually offered him? A scream shot out without her thinking about it, and she heard the frantic, drum-like banging of Kaden stomping back into the kitchen, eyes wide with fear. “Sorry, it wasn’t -- he wasn’t -- he barked and it sounded so -- and I thought he was going to jump up and eat me.” She burrowed further into her napkin poncho and realized there were a couple of wet, transparent dots on it. Either particulates from Abel’s mouth, or tears stains, she couldn’t say. This was insane.

Regan scurried over to stand near Kaden, even though they weren’t exactly anywhere near eye level with each other. She was still staring at the bottom of his chin, looking up his nose. Not his best angle, but she could still see her favorite scar and even a couple that she’d never noticed before. And… was that a flash of something striped in his fist? “You think… you think this is magic?” Regan shot him an entirely unamused glare. “This isn’t funny. And if we’re going to call it magic, we’re never going to find an explanation. And there is one; there has to be one. So this isn’t magic, this isn’t some spell or some curse or some fairy thing, it’s just -- it’s pathological. Or drug-related. And we’re going to fix it.” She swallowed the hard lump that’d formed in her throat, which was a good thing, because she would’ve choked on it when she saw what Kaden was holding. “Kaden. I am not wearing that. Or are you suggesting I start a tiny fire and burn it? Where did you even get that?”

Abel seemed calm enough, but Regan looked shaken enough that Kaden didn’t want to take any chances. “Sorry bud,” he said to the dog as he grabbed one of the bigger treats and stepped away to put Abel in his crate. At this size, there were already too many things that could accidentally kill her, he didn’t need to worry about the dog actually thinking the “pixie” was a play toy. He was back over to her at the counter as soon as he could. She was still there, still breathing, still looking at him like he was insane. Funny, he didn’t think that was possible in this situation but there they were. “Regan. You are five inches tall. And it happened instantly. I’m no spe--” He caught himself. Spellcaster was going to be too much too soon. “I’m not an expert in this kind of thing, but if it’s not magic, it sure sounds like something that could be called magic either way.” This was going to go nowhere if she couldn’t even fathom the word magic. Like magic didn’t have rules or logic. It was bullshit rules and bullshit logic as far as he was concerned, but they were there regardless if either of them understood them. Not that sort of explanation was going to be welcome just then. 

“Look, I know a few people who are used to weird transformation stuff like this that might have some insight on where to start.” By which Kaden meant witches. The Vurals sprung to mind. Who were all just freshly out of the hospital or out of the grave. Putain. “All I can say is I don’t think this is related to your other symptoms. The wings and the screams, all that.” Those were permanent. This, he hoped, was not. Right? It better be right. He rubbed his hands against his face, already feeling exhausted by this whole ordeal and it had only just begun. She might be onto something with the drugs, though, surprisingly. Considering she was with Felix of all people. He’d have to ask. Later. Not tonight. “Hey, I hate it, too,” Kaden said as he handed her the striped shirt. “But it’s better than nothing. I don’t really have an abundance of clothes for pi-- people who are five inches tall, alright.” Pretty lucky that he kept it as evidence against the mimes and the conspiracy going on in this town.

Magic? Weird transformation stuff? What the hell was Kaden talking about? He didn’t earnestly believe these things, did he? But Regan’s thoughts turned… and turned, and turned. Hadn’t he always been willing to believe the unbelievable? Hadn’t that been why she’d asked him for direction just now? Even on their first date, when they were attacked by the ceiling dog, he wasn’t grappling for an explanation the same way she had been. There was his familiarity with the cold skin and the wings, though that didn’t exactly detract from his shock. There was his family, the way he and his mother both had the word fae on their lips. There was the insect -- the “pixie” -- that Regan could still feel nearby. Impossibly. Always impossibly. She huddled further into the napkin and wished she could be anywhere else, talking about anything else. “I’m not calling it magic.” She said with finality, the word like poison on her tongue. She wouldn’t humor anyone by saying it again. 

“I think you’re right. I hope you’re right. I mean, about it not being a new symptom of whatever this underlying condition is. If it’s something different, it might be easier to treat.” She sighed. “Sorry about Abel, by the way. Sorry about all of this.” Regan felt as small as she apparently looked right now, and hope seemed as big and dangerous as anything else in the room. But at least she had Kaden who, even if he wanted to call this magic, would do anything in his power to help fix this. 

Regan grimaced at the shirt, even as it was set down on the counter in front of her. Seriously, where did he even get that? Why did he keep it? Did he really have a-- no. No. Was it really better than nothing? Another shiver answered that question for her, and, begrudgingly, Regan approached the shirt. Stared down at her like it would grow too many teeth and bite her. But she slid it on, anyways, wrestling to get the wings through the holes. At least it was long enough to act as more of a tunic than a shirt. “No one hears about this.” Regan said firmly, unsure if she even meant the fact she was five inches tall or the fact she was wearing a striped mime shirt. She was warming up already, though. She reached her hand out to hold Kaden’s, before remembering with numb shock that that wasn’t possible right now. “I’ll tell you everything that happened at the coffee shop, if you think that will help. Maybe we should go back there. Talk to the owner. Or that server. She was the one who ran the shooting gallery.” The one had may have held a grudge based on their interaction at the carnival. “That weekend in Millinocket is highly appealing now, huh?”

“You don’t have to.” Kaden didn’t know what else to call it other than magic since that was the obvious fucking answer here. But sure, they could avoid the words magic and fae and supernatural even though those were all the right terms here. Was this the cost of wanting normal so desperately? He couldn’t even call things what they were in order to shut their eyes and hope it went away. He sighed and leaned down so he was something closer to eye level with her. Granted, his face was larger than her whole body right now and his breath blew back her hair. It was insane. And it couldn’t stay like this for so many reasons. “Stop. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s not like you wanted this.” 

“Right. No one. Um, what if this--” Nope not right now. Not going to ask if this lasted longer than the weekend, not yet. The mime shirt was bad enough. Through all of this, Kaden just wanted to give her a hug or hold her hand, just anything. But he couldn’t. She was too small. Or he was too big. It didn’t matter which; his hand could still crush her so easily right now. The thought alone sent a chill down his spine. 

“I looked around a bit and talked to a server there before I left. It wasn’t her, I didn’t see her. And he said no one had sat at your table all night.” Kaden took a moment to rub his temples. “Putain, she must have used f-- promises or something to keep people from talking or remembering. If she used the word sister and all, she can probably do that thing with words that you can. The p-word.” And he was damn sure she could do it better. “We’ll look into it more, though. Maybe she’s still working at the carnival? We’ll find something. I pr-- I’m not going to let you be stuck like this forever.” If they could bring Bea back from the fucking dead, they could fix this. He was pretty sure he’d pay just about whatever cost, too. Scary thought. Magic always came with a price, after all. “We’ll really have earned that vacation now. And we’ll make sure you’re big enough to enjoy it.” He smiled but he wasn’t sure it quite reached his eyes. As much as he wanted to promise this would be over by then, there were a lot of reasons why he couldn’t. “For now, let me see if there’s any cotton balls or something in the bathroom for you.”

#wickedswriting

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Winding Path Ahead || Bea and Kaden

TIMING: Sometime before Nell’s party LOCATION: Kaden’s car en route out of town PARTIES:  @beatrice-blaze and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Bea invites Kaden on a road trip and in the car, things get a little heavier than anticipated for a distracting day out. CONTENT WARNINGS: Ableism (specifically in relation to therapy and mental health), suicidal ideation If you are at all sensitive to these topics, please skip and message for a TLDR;

How long had it been since Bea saw Kaden? The last time they had really been around each other she had cried because of a gun and then he brought her a milkshake. It had been a random invitation, one she didn’t think he would take, but he surprised her and now they were going to be in a car together for at least six hours today. They were far from White Crest when she finally broke the small talk. “I killed the Hunter.” Maybe not the best thing to say when he was driving, but the words had been bubbling her throat for too long now. “I’m making his femur a knife.” 

Kaden was desperate for just about any distraction as of late. Spending that time with a friend? He practically jumped at the chance. Six hours in the car seemed like nothing. Sitting around and thinking about his crap, Regan’s training, Nadia’s situation, a minute thinking about it could feel like an hour. So he’d go help Bea with whatever she needed if it got him out of the house and out of his head. It had been too long since he spent time with her anyway. Surly she’d have plenty to say about the thoughts rolling around his mind recently. If he decided to share them. For now it had been easy conversation sprinkled with moments of peaceful silence, easy company. Until she dropped a bomb out of nowhere. “You what?” he said, startled out of his thoughts. It took him a second to process. The hunter? What hunter? He looked at her, saw the scar on her neck. Right. That hunter. His stomach churned remembering. It was easy to forget sometimes. Other times, the image of her head, severed and floating flashed in front of his eyes. It just happened. “That-- I’m sorry what?” His femur. A knife. His femur into a knife. “You kept his--” The fact that he’d nearly killed Bea unsettled him a lot more just then. That could have been him. In a way. Not that he’d-- He pinched his eyes shut just for a flash, trying to push the thought away, keep his focus on the road ahead. “Right. Good for you.” He didn’t really approve but he couldn’t really argue against the pain she’d faced, the pain Montgomery had caused. Didn’t seem like it was worth a fight or worth his disapproval. And didn’t he plan to take a fang from the werewolf who killed his parents whenever that day came? Who the fuck was he to criticize. “So it’s done, then.” 

That nervous laugh that Bea thought she had kicked flooded out of her. Maybe that was too much of an overshare, but she had barely been social in the last few months and at this point, she couldn’t remember how to do it. “I want to keep a piece of him as a trophy. Like he did to me.” The words tasted stale. She had been saying that for months now but wasn’t the truth of it that she just wanted to have proof it happened. She wanted to hold onto that knife and remember that it was real, that she did it. She wasn’t sure any monster she faced in the future would be so great, but if any came close, she could wield that knife and remember the strength she could produce. She could remember reclaiming herself, she could remember who she had been in the shade of that shed. “It’s done. He’s gone and no one will ever miss him.” It’s done. She knew it, felt it in her chest where it warmed her like her fire once had, but it didn’t always feel real. Just like she didn’t always feel real. She toed at her shoe, felt the rubber tip bounce back at her, wondering if Kaden would care if she kicked them off to tuck her feet under her butt. “Felix left for New York. I don’t know when he’ll be back…” Trailing off, she looked out the window, fingers pressed to the window watching her warmth bring fog to the edges. “So, how are you?”

You could be better than him, is what Kaden wanted to say. Instead he nodded and kept his eyes on the road, let her have her moment, as much as it made him want to squirm a little in his seat. She’d killed a hunter. Kept his bones as a trophy. Her words sounded hollow. Not with the same emptiness that Regan’s had sometimes, not with hopelessness. It was something else he heard there. Doubt? Maybe? It was hard to say for sure when he had to place some of his concentration on driving. He had to remind himself that if she were talking about a wolf, undead, or fae, he would hardly blink. And he’d seen that room. He knew how disgusting Montgomery was. It didn’t make him any less human, any less like him. Bile crept up his throat as he compared his own powers to his. As much as he wanted to deny it, it was there. They shared something. Hell, they’d worked together. He hated that, too. He gripped the wheel a little tighter, letting his knuckles turn white before letting up. He’d done it for Bea. And when all was said and done, the pricolici that they took down was a job well done. It wasn’t a hunt he regretted participating in for a second, company aside. “Good.” He didn’t love what it meant for her. But he did like knowing it was done. It was. It had to be. Maybe this could let her move forward. After everything, she deserved that.

Then his heart sank for her. “He left?” Kaden asked. Dumb question. He didn’t need her to repeat it but it was hard to process. Just left? Just like that? She deserved more than that, too. “I’m sorry. He--” The words hung in the air a while. As did her next question. How was he? Laughter crept up and started to spill out of him before he could even get the answer out. “Shit,” he said eventually through the stupid, depressing laughter. “I feel like shit.” The laughter kept coming. It wasn’t funny. But it was better to laugh than cry. Not to mention he didn’t even know where to start explaining. Or if he even wanted to.

As bloody the job had been, Bea hadn’t regretted it. It wasn’t something she had ever imagined herself doing, but it was deserved. It had softened something in her, her jaw didn’t always hurt from clenching her teeth, her shoulders weren’t constantly tensed. Perhaps it would never fully go away, but she would savor this for now. “His family needed him in New York,” She told him, playing with her hair as she contemplated their empty apartment. Moving back into the house had been odd, it had been a haven for her sisters after her death. It felt wrong originally to tell them she was coming back. She had to remind herself it was her house. “We’re still together, just long distance. We’re open and everything so it’s not like we’re depriving ourselves of anything.” Still, she missed him already. There was too much space in her bed now, but she knew he was only a train ride away. She watched her friend closely as he laughed, it was bad if he was laughing. “What’s been going on?” Sometimes all someone needed was to be listened to. She was sure that Kaden would need something more than that, but it couldn’t hurt to get it off his chest.

“Alright. But I’m still-- It sucks. To be... So I’m sorry.” Kaden’s thumbs brushed against the steering wheel as the silence settled in again, the echoes of his stupid laughter died down again. God, he wasn’t sure if he could explain all of this while driving. He had to hold himself together. He couldn’t fall apart. He couldn’t afford to. Not that he could afford to before. “I don’t even know where to start, Bea,” he said, voice small. “I-- Alain lost a leg. To a bugbear. And it was my fault. And I nearly got Abel killed. Fucking would have if I didn’t--” Once he began, the words kept falling out of his mouth. He couldn’t stop them, there was no control left, no holding back the floodgates now. “And Regan, she’s--” Fuck, where did he even begin there. “She’s doing intensive banshee training. Torture. She’s torturing herself trying to cut out her emo-- She quit her fucking job. Her. Regan. Quit her fucking job. Regan. The woman who-- I’ve seen her twice in the past month and a half. Just twice. And--” His chest grew tighter, clutching his words in its grips. “She’s not-- I think I’m losing her. Fuck, she’s losing hers--” The road ahead of him started to blur and he held tighter onto the wheel, willing the tears away, pushing his own emotions away. “Sorry. I-- I can’t. I--” He swallowed back the tightness with a deep inhale, centered himself. Focused on the lines on the road in front of him. “Guess it’s clear why I wanted the distraction now, huh? Not that I don’t enjoy your company.” The smile he offered her was half hearted but it was the best he could manage.  

The silence that stretched between them after Kaden finished was going to suffocate Bea. That was a lot and she didn’t know how to lightly tell him that he was taking on way too many people’s trauma. He needed to take a vacation and leave this town and all its craziness behind for a minute. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him how he was when he was driving, this seemed unsafe. She tapped on her knee, struggling to find what he needed to hear. She decided to not tell him something that would make him feel better. “I think you need to see a therapist, Kaden,” She grimaced as she realized how harsh it sounded once it was out. “You’re holding all of that in and I don’t think just talking about it with a friend will help. You need real coping mechanisms that are cleared by a doctor.” God, she didn’t even really trust doctors, but he needed a professional and she certainly wasn’t one. She pressed her lips, “And before you say you can’t because you can’t explain the whole supernatural thing, just make something up that’s human enough to work. We’re in a weird town, they’re heard a lot of shit I’m sure.” Flexing and relaxing her fists a few times, she shrugged. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but I think you should consider it.”

Her words felt like a slap in the face. “You’re right. It’s not,” he told her. Kaden had considered keeping his thoughts to himself earlier and now he wished he had. “I don’t need a fucking therapist,” he spat back, eyes facing straight ahead at the road in front of them. Sure, he felt like he could fall apart at any moment but he wasn’t broken, some crazy person who needed help. Even if he did “need” to see a therapist, which he was fucking sure wasn’t true, he wasn’t going to go see one. “No shrink is going to tell me what to do or how to fucking cope.” Like they could even begin to understand. All his issues were with the supernatural, all because it fucking existed. And he was supposed to talk to someone but not about that? Bullshit. “Make up something human? Like fucking what? I’m pretty sure I’m not getting around the fact my girlfriend is torturing herself and that I’m sitting the fuck back and letting it happen. And that’s the easy one to explain. What the fuck would be the point if I have to censor myself? How is that going to help?” Silence hung in the air once more and his grip on the wheel tightened again. “I’m not going to put myself in a situation where I could risk my job or worse by seeming fucking mentally unfit, Bea. I’m not losing that, too.” And just like that the list of people he could open up to shrunk down once more. He’d have to hold everything a little closer to his chest, pull it all in tighter that’s all. Not like he wasn’t used to it. He did that for years. It was stupid to think things might have changed. “Sorry. I’ll just, I’ll keep my shit to myself from now on. What else did you want to talk about?”

This certainly wasn’t the first time Kaden had yelled at her or reacted negatively to something Bea had said, but it stung no less. Her lips pressed together and for a moment she wanted to snap back at him, wanted to make him hurt like he had just hurt her. She shook her head, looking ahead of them, breathing slowly through her nose as she focused on the horizon. “Quite frankly, if you don’t want to go that’s fine, but you don’t have to get angry at me for trying to help you. I’m trying to be a good friend and you are not reacting like a good one right now. Does yelling at me make you feel better?” She didn’t say it maliciously, but she certainly didn’t want him to think she was going to tolerate the behavior anymore. She huffed out of her nose, “That’s unfair and you know it.” She turned to look at him, “Why do you like talking to me about this? I'm really asking, that’s not a trick question.” Maybe she could make him see that he could talk to people about this who were qualified to help. She couldn’t give him advice right now, not when she was finding her own footing with coping. “Also, I’m pretty sure unless your therapist is hired by the department they can’t say anything.”

“I’m not yelling at you,” Kaden retorted, his voice still sharp, though not raised. “But fine, maybe I’m a shitty friend then. You asked me what was going on and I told you.” And then she called him crazy. He knew it was a lot. It was why he tried not to let on half the time. And here he was, kicking himself for letting any of it slip out. “So there it fucking is. That’s what’s going on.” Some of it at least. There was more he hadn’t even said. Lucky her. Not shocked that she couldn’t handle it. “I don’t like talking about any of it with anyone.” Not like he really got the option to either way. He ground his teeth back and forth against one another. He had a feeling he was a fucking burden to deal with, someone that people just put up with and dealt with, but it didn’t make the confirmation sting any less. “Well great. Doesn’t matter because I don’t have a therapist and I’m not getting one,” he reiterated. Maybe it was sheer stubbornness at this point but he fucking hated the implications either way. That he was damaged or crazy or some shit like that. He was fine. He could handle this. And he planned to continue doing so, even if that was by him-fucking-self. 

He was talking like her mom. Bea knew that sharp tone from the way her mother reacted when things didn’t go her way. For a moment she felt small, chastised, but she was not going to shrink back like she once would have. She wasn’t that girl anymore and her mother’s tone, Kaden’s tone wasn’t going to make her back down. Could she be friends with him right now? When she needed to heal so badly herself? He wasn’t a bad person, or even a bad friend most of the time, but she wasn’t sure they were healthy for one another anymore. Maybe one day they could be again, but this wasn’t healthy, this wasn’t fair to either one of them. All they seemed to do was break down in front of each other. When was the last time they had enjoyed each other’s presence, not because they needed emotional support but just to hang out? She couldn’t remember and she knew she was part of that problem. “I don’t appreciate the cussing, Kaden,” She told him, firmly. “You can say you aren’t angry, but you certainly aren’t happy with me and your tone is hurtful. I standby what I said, even though you seem to think the idea is so offensive.” She pulled out her phone, ready to use it to shut down the conversation, “I won’t bring it up again.” She set off to text Felix and ignore Kaden.

“Well of course not, you just called me crazy.” Kaden’s words left his mouth before he had a chance to think about them. But he wasn’t wrong, was he? That’s who got sent to therapy. People who talked about werewolves and vampires openly, who got caught and couldn’t write it off or explain what they saw. That’s what his parents always warned him about. She had to know that, right? Was White Crest really that different from everywhere else? He stole a glance over at her and noticed she was just on her phone, not engaging. Great. So he fucked something else up, too. Add it to the list. “I can just turn around if you want,” he said, his voice much smaller now. He kept his jaw clenched tight after, to hold any stupid emotions back that were threatening to escape. He just wanted a distraction, a decently normal day with his friend. Fuck, was she even his friend? He swallowed back the lump growing in his throat. Didn’t matter. He came to this town alone. He should have known that he was going to leave it like that, too.  “And since when do you hate cursing again?”

Bea’s mouth dried, the anger she had held slipped away, replaced with the never ending, bone numbing exhaustion that she had thought she had left behind. This happened often when she tried to help people, didn’t it? Her words were taken the wrong way and she ruined relationships. It had happened with her sisters. “I didn’t say you were crazy,” She whispered back. Her fingers were cold and she nearly shivered, she was still not used to being cold. She didn’t think she ever would be. Looking out the window, she wondered if the mood of this trip would be so great to affect the weather. It certainly felt strong enough to conjure a storm. “I’m so scared for you, Kaden.” The words slipped from her, brittle and unrefined. “You’re like Nell, where you take all of this trauma from other people and you store it in your chest. And you never, never talk about it until it’s like it’s cracking your ribs apart and forcing itself out.” Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. “One day, I feel like it’ll be too much for you and when it comes to fighting whatever is after you, you’ll be too tired to. You’ll close your eyes and tell yourself that this is better, this is easier. And it will feel easier, because life is so much harder than death.” She stared at the ceiling of the car, remembering the numbness she felt when she came back. She knew she hoped that no one would ever feel that way. “And I am still too broken to help you. I can’t help you pick up your pieces, not when I’m still so shattered that I’m cutting myself on the ragged edges of who I was. I know what it feels like to drown in the problems surrounding you. I know that every decision you face right now feels like it could ruin everything around you. And I don’t want you to feel the way I feel, Kaden. I want you to get help. I want some smarter and stronger than me to be able to help you. That’s why I said you should go to therapy. Not because you’re crazy, but because I think you can still heal from this.”

Kaden braced himself for more anger or indifference. He was ready for either. He wasn’t sure if he deserved either but some part of him knew it was warranted either way. What he got from her instead was… different. He didn’t know if it was worse, better, he couldn’t decide because it caught him off guard. Her voice was soft, but he heard every syllable. And he listened, rapt attention, finding it harder and harder to stay focused on the road. The words took a while to settle in, to mean something. She was scared for him. Scared that he’d… He couldn’t quite like that process, too afraid to acknowledge what she really meant in his own mind, like it might give the thoughts some traction to hold onto. His family always implied therapy was dangerous, something to avoid, something that would destroy you. It was hard to think of it as anything else. But he couldn’t deny what she was saying, the sentiment behind her words. Agree or disagree on what therapy was or what it meant, she cared. And wanted to help him. And he wasn’t quite sure how much of what she said was about him and not her. The road felt never ending ahead of him, like it could swallow him whole. He couldn’t think and drive right now, not about this. He felt like he’d sink. Or drive them off the road. He put on the turn signal and pulled over onto the shoulder. For a while he sat in silence, staring ahead as cars rushed past them, shaking the car as they did. “Okay,” he finally said after a long while. “I don’t know if-- I’m not sure if I want to go to-- I...” He could hardly get out the words. He felt broken. Not just for him, for her, too. “I’m sorry that I-- I’m sorry.” He finally turned to meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to drop all of this and I don’t need you to solve anything I just…” He ground his teeth against themselves, forcing his lip to keep from quavering at all. “I’ll consider it. But only if--” He paused, almost afraid to suggest it. “Only if, uh, if you do, too.” Please. His eyes practically begged her to consider it, too. If she felt the same and she thought he needed this, why the hell should he be the only one going? And he couldn’t lose her. Not again. 

As he pulled off to the side, Bea felt the walls of the car get smaller and smaller. These conversations had only been something she had started to have in the past year. Mental health and her mother didn’t mix well, not when Nisa thought that everything could be cure with some magic and determination. She picked at the hem of her shirt sleeve, there was a few pieces of lint that could keep her hands busy. She didn’t want to go to therapy, she had tried it a few times and it had made her uncomfortable. Pouring her problems on to a stranger made her antsy and she had hated the way she was looked at, with practiced empathy and understanding. Still, she nodded. If it could get Kaden into therapy, she’d do it. She didn’t have to dive too deeply into these therapy sessions, she could just talk about surface-level issues. “I’m open to going again,” She said softly. “It’s important to go, I think.” And she thought it was, at least for Kaden, but she had tried it. She would do it again, for him and maybe to ease some anxiety her sisters had, but she wasn’t sure it would work for her. Not when therapists always looked at her like they understood everything when they couldn’t even begin to understand what had happened to her. She knew that Kaden might think the same, but she didn’t dare tell him why she had stopped, not when it could influence how he felt about it all in the end. “Hopefully, it helps.”

Every time he asked something from someone, Kaden was reminded why he had kept his life so closed up in the past, why he didn’t open the door to these sorts of moments. That uncertain feeling where rejection was just a breath away was something he fucking hated. Choosing to be alone and discarded hurt a hell of a lot less than even the possibility of someone else choosing it for him. Half of him was damn near convinced she’d still ask him to turn the car around and head home. “Again?” he asked quietly. Oh. So she had… Huh. It never occurred to him that she had-- He bit the inside of his mouth. Great. No wonder she was treating him like a fucking asshole. He was. Fucking great. “Okay. Hopefully it helps,” he repeated. He took a deep inhale in before he even thought about starting up the car again. “Ready for that nice, easy, distracting day we had planned to start now?”

“I went for a bit at the beginning of the year. I was trying to figure out how to deal with being controlling with my sisters,” Bea admitted. Not that it had helped with that, other things forced her to stop being controlling. Her dying was probably the reason that she had a good relationship with the girls again. She smiled a bit, “Yeah, today starts now. This all was yesterday. We should get coffee to start the day off.” 

#writing #wickedswriting #chatzy #bea #beatriceblaze #abelism tw #suicide ideation tw #suicidal ideation tw #winding path ahead

[kellbellsparkles]

Chapter 7 of my Ratchet and Clank fanfic called "Family"

Ratchet gets to sit down and have an emotional one-on-one with his mother

Inside Alister's lounge area inside the hut, Edith was tucked in bed with a damp cloth on her head. Her eyes slowly opened, coming to a halt mid way as feeling steadily returned to her body. She shrugged her shoulders and found where her elbows touched the mattress beneath her. She propped herself up carefully, the damp cloth dropping onto her lap. Her eyes fully opened to survey her surroundings. She looked to her right and saw Ratchet leaned back snoring in a seat he propped next to her. Talwyn stood next to him and noticed Edith had come to.

"Psst," she whispered, shaking Ratchet's shoulders. "Ratchet. She's awake. So wake up, too."

Ratchet snorted, his eyes snapping open.

"It's not parking illegally if there's no sign," he said in a daze.

"Ratchet," Talwyn said sternly as she cupped his cheeks. She turned his head so he was facing Edith. Edith stared sheepishly and in disbelief as they locked eyes for the first time.

"Oh!" Ratchet yelped. He shoved Talwyn's hands off gently and cleared his throat. "Talwyn, um, could you--"

"Give you a few minutes that'll probably last the whole day?" Talwyn interjected. "Of course. I'll just go survey the area to see what we're living with for now."

Talwyn scurried out of the way towards the platform Aphelion was parked near. She activated her hover boots and jetted off. Left alone, Ratchet cleared his throat again and nervously chuckled.

"So," he said. "Uh…. Hello, there. I go by Ratchet. I know that's not my birth name. Heh. I have a friend who basically proved that I'm your son. So… how are you doing…. Mom?"

He hung his head and rubbed his brow in frustration feeling he messed up already.

"That's a stupid question," he groveled. "I'm sorry. I mean, it was only yesterday that I was a baby to you, right? It probably hasn't even registered with you yet and I sound like a complete lunatic."

Edith's gaze focused on Ratchet's signature cap.

"Um," she spoke, reaching for it. "May I….?"

Ratchet sat up and saw where her eyes fixated.

"Oh, this?"

He swiftly removed his cap for her, revealing matching stripes on his head, but his stripes matched the color of the rest on his body.

"I've worn it for so long that it still feels like I'm wearing it even now," he said. "I got it from a field trip to the hover board races they were having where I grew up. The top racer then was a lera named Rigel Cuspus. He just saw me in the crowd and gave it to me. A moon dweller giving up everything to live in the fast lane noticed me and handed me his signature look. That's part of what inspired me to want to go off world, too."

Edith examined the stripes on Ratchet's head. She inhaled greatly, feeling a surge of overflowing emotions rise in her chest.

"May I also….?"

Ratchet saw that she wanted to get a closer look and feel.

"Sure, I guess?" he said, undecided and not sure what else to do.

Edith laid her hands on top of Ratchet's head. Ratchet sat still like a statue. His nose wrinkled at the new sensation of his mother touching him. She spread her hands over to his ears then down to his cheeks.

"It really is you," she said bashfully. "My Warren."

"Yep," Ratchet said awkwardly. "That's me. Haha. That's my birth name."

Edith pulled away. She brought her hands to her fluctuating heart beat.

"Is your father…?"

"Dead," Ratchet blurring. "Assuming he didn't fall through a time portal like you did, but I'm not getting my hopes up."

"Oh," Edith said, choking up. She hunched over. Her son was here, alive and well and a grown-up. Her husband was absent and possibly gone as soon as she disappeared from the past.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

"Wha-" Ratchet croaked as he stumbled, nearly falling out of his chair. "What are you apologizing for?"

"For you having to grow up alone. It must have been horrible, especially if there were no other lombaxes. Aren't you angry with me? At Kaden? It's alright if you are."

"How could I be? Kaden, my dad, protected me! And the orphanage wasn't so bad! The only reason I didn't really click with anyone was because I was careless and thoughtless with my inventions! I nearly blew a kid's fingers off! Who wants a kid like that??"

Edith sat back up. She saw her son in a frantic frenzy, trembling as he kept himself glued to his seat.

"Warren," she said tenderly. "It's okay to be angry."

"I'm not angry!" Ratchet claimed. "I might've been ten, fifteen, twenty years ago! I was a bad kid! I'm a grown man now! I've changed! I'm just….."

He suddenly lunged and hugged Edith tight. Edith flinched from the sudden contact, but she quickly embraced her son close to her.

"I just wanted someone to understand me!" Ratchet cried as the tears came. "I wanted to know why I was the way I was and where I came from! If anyone really cared about me at all!"

Edith massaged Ratchet's back up and down. She rested her head on his shoulder against his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Warren," she said. "Or Ratchet if that's what you want me to call you."

"How can you be so thoughtful??" Ratchet hiccuped. "You're the one who was flung into the future suddenly!"

"It's because your feelings are valid," Edith said, instinctively rocking him. "All I want is for you to be okay."

"I am okay," Ratchet said, sniffling. "I have Clank. I have Talwyn. I went on a lot of adventures and met amazing people. Actually, all of that was only possible because of Clank. He was the first one who really got me."

"Is he--"

"Only my first and best friend in the entire universe. I wish he were here right now so you can meet him. I hope he comes back soon."

"I can't wait. I'm glad that you made such a wonderful friend."

"Yeah. I don't know what I'd do without him. Well, I actually lost him for a couple years. I never stopped looking for him, barely rested. It's an incredibly long story and I can't catch my breath right now just from thinking about it, but I did find him. Then, recently, I lost him again when we were flung into another dimension."

Ratchet's face abruptly contorted into a fretful stage.

"He lost his arm when the Dimensionator exploded…. Maybe I should call him."

"How long has he been gone?" Edith asked.

"Not too long," Ratchet said. "But fixing the time rifts will take who knows how long…." He hugged his mother tighter.

"I don't think he would," he whispered to himself. "Would he?"

Edith's ears flicked upon hearing Ratchet's voice.

"Did you say something?"

"I-It's nothing," he lied. "I'm overthinking it. Everything's going to be just fine."

#ratchet and clank #ratchetandclankriftapart