#his dialogue is so one note that i decided to muzzle him

[friendlylocalwhumper]

Iron, with a smothering kiss of cold earth, has been locked around his jaw and hugs the base of his skull. Furiously stormy eyes glare from above the solid muzzle, from under frizzy white hair.

When the metal rod nears his thigh, it’s the first time that that defiance and rage falter. Eyes full of hatred suddenly flit downward to lock onto the metal that glows white at the tip and red a few inches further down. The heat radiates off of it and caresses him in a sensation worse than creepy trailing fingertips. The branding iron is moved slowly enough that he sees his coarse hairs curl up and smolder before the burning even really starts.

The room is getting darker. Major’s eyes rise for a half second to blink rapidly at the lightbulb above him, which holds steady and bright even as his vision darkens at the edges. The branding iron makes contact and for a second it feels startlingly cold. Short quick hummingbird-wing-beat breaths huff out from his nose over the muzzle. He thought he would scream, like the last time he got burnt. But he hears a high-pitched dog-with-its-tail-stuck-under-a-tire sound, and then the world swallows him whole, and he feels numbness and unconsciousness flood in.

Whimper-whine-wail. Whimper-whine-wail. Whimper-whine-wail. As he wakes, Major’s nose and eyebrows crumple towards each other, and he groans. Someone’s being a pussy, really close to him, and it’s fucking annoying. Someone’s making stupid hurt sounds, and… wait. It’s the exact same every time. Teary eyes blink open, and he can make out a small black recording device through his grogginess. The play button is stuck down and his own cries spill out of it on a loop. Agony is kindled in his leg and he shudders, stiffly moving his aching body to roll onto his back and untangle his ankles. At his thigh, which he refuses to look at, there is what feels like a burn a foot long and just as wide. It can’t be that big, he’d have a fever or be screaming his head off, he knows. But it hurts that much, and every nerve within a fucking mile radius of the small burn is shrieking in protest.

The healer tries to reach down to fix it, just let magic spill over the burn and erase it. But the muscles in his shoulder twitch and the limb doesn’t budge. Head rolling until his cheek smushes against the floor, he sees that his arm is chained down to a metal grate. Strong thin black bars, and a void beneath. Smells like… like… Beneath the muzzle, he whines low, eyes widening. Just his left arm is chained down to a grill in the floor. They’re gonna, they’re gonna fucking-

A whoosh and a roar sends Major flinching to the right, but his arm won’t budge. The dark room bursts into bright orange with the light cast from the fire underneath the grate. For three heartbeats it feels comfortably warm, the air rippling with the heat.

For long enough to send his mind scattering and spiraling in shards, screams are caught by the muzzle. In the haze of wishing he had no body and wishing for ice and numbness and to pass out, he reaches with his other hand to try to tear the chains away, and shriek-sobs harder when that just gets him a second burnt hand.

Finally, finally after passing out with sweat trapped beneath the muzzle and tears and snot across his face, his body lies limp as his crispy arm is extricated from the chains and the grate. And when he wakes, he learns that he wasn’t burning for an eternity, but for two and a half minutes. That’s how long the recording echoes his maddening screams before it loops again.

#whump #ocs #mine #burning #burns tw #chains #major #his dialogue is so one note that i decided to muzzle him #he is VERY cute when he's hyperventilating and writhing and screaming! #muzzled #captivity #torture #losing consciousness

[voxymoxyboxy]

Scrapped Secret Santa Idea

While struggling to write for my AU drabbles, I was looking at my old writing and stumbled across this abandoned draft for the Sam and Max secret santa from last year! I read it and found that I still really liked it so I thought I would publish it on here for people to read! It’s not finished, but I do really like what I wrote. Please enjoy!

The familiar thrum of the microwave sounded through Sybil’s kitchen as she leaned against a nearby counter. Little pops began a few seconds later, the smell of butter and salt slowly, but surely, washing over her like a warm bath. Thin fingers drummed against the large plastic bowl in her hands. Rather than compose a new symphony for one- though that didn’t sound too bad for her next career-, Sybil decided to cross things off a mental list.

Comfortable pajamas pulled from the depths of a bottom drawer? Check.

Snacks? Enough to feel like utter garbage come morning.

Fluffy blanket? Spread on the couch just waiting to be wrecked by her guest.

Speaking of her guest… Sybil checked her watch. It was almost eight o’clock, the time when their little girl’s night was supposed to start. Supposed to, because Max wasn’t exactly known for his punctuality. The woman sighed. If she had to guess, the lagomorph would burst through her front door at about nine, a full hour late, wide smile on-

A knock on the door startled Sybil from her thoughts. The bowl clattered to the floor, but the women kicked it aside as she made her way through the living room. Whoever was waiting outside stopped for a second, only to be begin spamming the doorbell instead. Sybil quickened her steps.

“I’m coming!” she shouted. “Just give me a second!” The ringing continued, much to the woman’s dismay.

“Sybil!” a high-pitched voice called through the wood. “What you say in the bedroom’s none o’ my business!” Nearly banging her arm against the doorknob in her hurry, Sybil threw open the door to find Max, wide teasing smirk on his face clothed in nothing more than a flimsy scarf. His hands were clasped behind his back and he rocked back and forth on his heels.

The woman rubbed the bridge of her nose but returned the lagomorph’s smile. “Good to see you Max.” She stepped to the side to let him in. “Come on in.”

Max strutted inside, a bag the woman hadn’t noticed until then clutched in his paws. Sybil raised a brow when, instead of just dumping it on her carpet, the lagomorph gently placed the bag under the coffee table. Free from potential harm and the crumb zone, the woman noted. He jumped on the couch, already making himself at home by wrapping himself up in Sybil’s blanket like stuffing in a burrito.

“So.” The lagomorph eyed the snacks on the coffee table. The woman watched as Max snatched the largest chip bag of the bunch. Ripping it open, Max dug out a handful of salty goodness and stuffed it all in his mouth. “Where’s the kid?” he asked, crumbs spraying everywhere from talking with his mouth full.

Sybil grimaced. Tomorrow would be a clean-up day for sure. “I left Penny with a good friend of mine from work.”

“What is it this time? Graphic designer?” Max picked at his teeth. “Toy making? No!” He snapped his fingers. “Mall Santa!”

“Elf, actually.” Sybil said, making her way back towards the kitchen. “Hired me on the spot after finding out I’m a mother.”

“Must be desperate to avoid any lawsuits this year.” Max commented and dumped the rest of the bag down his gaping maw. “Probably don’t wanna lose another Santa.”

“Lose another Santa?” the woman parroted, confusion plain in her voice. “I don’t remember hearing anything about a Santa being arrested last year.” Max flattened out his blanket nest so his arms were now free to move about. He grabbed a soda and popped it open.

“Whaddaya mean?” The lagomorph took a small sip before continuing. “You were there! I kidnapped you that mornin’ to help me get a present fer Sam! Near ‘bout had a heart attack when he burst in and handcuffed the bastard.” He traced the rim of the can, ears drooping a bit before shooting right back up. “Right?”

Sybil had to tread carefully.

“The popcorn’s done. Why don’t you get it while I turn on the tv?” Max was silent for a beat. While subtle, she could see his jaw tighten, grin turning forced. The grip on his soda tightened, leaving tiny dents in the aluminum. And yet, just as quickly, Max was bouncing back. Literally, as he’d jumped to his feet.

“You actually trust me to go within six feet of yer microwave?” the lagomorph said. He brushed away an imaginary tear. “I’m touched!”

“Get going before I regret my decision.”

“You probably should.”

“Go.” The woman chuckled, playfully shoving him towards the kitchen archway. Max ‘harumphed’ and left the room. Sybil rolled her eyes. It was all just for show. The guy was a drama queen through and through. What had caught her eye were the muscles in Max’s shoulders. The habit leftover from her old job as a masseuse proved to be useful, for they were tense, almost like the lagomorph was preparing to fight.

Or flee.

Sybil reached over the side of the couch and pulled out the remote. After finding the device in Penny’s mouth one too many times, she’d decided to buy one of those stupid arm slings to hold it. Admittedly, it worked pretty well. She flicked the tv on, muting it before leaning to get comfortable. Flipping through channels, the woman looked for the right one. No, no, uggh, ah-ha! Now she could really get settled in.

Before she could really hunker down, Max slid in front of the flat screen. His back faced Sybil, pristine white fur now covered by a long-sleeved purple pajama shirt, both sleeves and matching pants rolled up. Bowl held over his head, he leaped back onto soft cushions, stray pieces flying to hit Sybil’s arm and leg. Her gaze traveled over Max and she stifled laughter with a hand as she saw what was hovering over his chest.

“Merry Christmas, Ho, Ho Hoes?” she read, giggles bursting through her fingertips. For the first time that night, Max’s smile turned genuine. The lagomorph puffed his chest out, pride radiating off his person.

“Jealous?” he nearly purred.

“Hardly.”

“Green doesn’t become you, Sybil.” Max sing-songed.

Said woman gasped. “I’ll have you know it brings out my eyes!”

“Whatever helps ya sleep at night!” Max shot back.

The two started at each other for a moment before bursting into hearty laughter. Some of the tension from before ebbed away as they clutched their quickly hurting middles. Wiping away small tears, she glanced over at her friend. A weight Sybil hadn’t known about lifted from her shoulders as the rabbit devolved into giggles, stray pieces of popcorn flying everywhere.

“You know,” Sybil scootched back to her side of the sofa, "I was wondering.”

“Bout what?” Max tossed a kernel and caught it with a loud crunch.

Sybil gestured towards the television. “Why Hallmark movies?” She tucked her legs under her. “I thought you hated those.”

Max froze, caught off-guard by the woman’s question. He recovered fast, face blank as his attention turned to the movie. The woman on the screen- the heroine, Sybil assumed- walked under a garden arch adorned with Christmas lights. A man followed close behind, a look of complete adoration gracing his features. Slowly, he plopped the dish onto the middle cushion.

“Yeah,” he brought his knees to his chest, “I do.”

“Then why…?”

Max buried himself in Sybil’s blanket. He placed his chin on his knees. “How long’ve we known each other, Sybil?”

Sybil tilted her head quizzically. “About two or three years now, I think.” She paused. “Why?”

Snow began falling in the movie. The woman laughed and pulled the man towards a tackily-decorated gazebo. He followed without fail, lips flapping as he probably spouted cheesy dialogue.

“It’s funny, ‘s all.” Max said, sad little smile on his muzzle. Sybil had a feeling he didn’t really mean it. “From what I remember, it’s been at least five. But then again,” the lagomorph tapped his head, “Never did have the best memory.”

“Don’t sell yourself short Max.” Sybil scooted closer and lightly placed a hand over Max’s. He flinched but didn’t move to rip the limb off. She took it as a good sign, welling with pride as she squeezed the paw. “You’re smarter than you think. But that’s not the real issue here, is it?”

“Dunno. You tell me Miss Psychotherapist.” The rabbit tried to crack a joke, but the woman wasn’t having it.

“Max.” she said, slightly increasing the pressure on his hand. By now the soon-to-be couple were sitting on a bench found in their temporary shelter, shoulders brushing while they talked. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. But know, as your friend, I’m here for you.”

Max tossed the words around in his head. He pulled his hand from Sybil’s and grabbed a mug from the table, whipped cream already melted into the warm cocoa. Holding it with both paws, the lagomorph took a deep breath.

“It happened a few years. You n’me were just fuckin’ around at one of our movie nights.” His grip tightened around the porcelain handle. “Landed on the channel and had the crappy idea to mute it and write our own story.” Patiently the woman waited as Max took another swig.

“Was so stupid.” the rabbit mumbled, corners of his mouth pulling up just so. “But fun. Were laughin’ our asses off by the end of the night. When I was ‘bout to leave, you suggested we do it every year and-“

“You wanted to keep the tradition going.” Sybil finished, voice wrought with understanding.

Max sent his friend a look, mouth shutting with a clack. “Somethin’ like that.” The rabbit’s gaze wandered back to the film, pang in his chest at the woman and man twining their fingers together. “Guess I just wanted something familiar in m’life.” he confessed.

Sybil peered at her friend intently. “…Have you told Sam?”

“Hell no!” Max said. “He’s the last one I wanna tell!”

“Is something going on between you two?”

“No.” he lied, thumb running over the edge of Sybil’s mug.

“Did he do anything? Because I know the guy can be dense sometimes-”

The lagomorph shook his head. “Yer readin’ too much int’ it Sybil.”

The heroine and hero were staring at each now, the camera rotating around the outside of the gazebo in a way that had to make some people sick.

“…Has he been distant lately?” Sybil tried, sadness clawing at her throat when Max’s ears pinned against his skull. “Do you know why?”

Max bit the inside of his cheek. “No. But what I do know,” the rabbit hugged the mug closer, “is that he’s been weird round me. It’s like…” he tugged at his pajama sleeves, racking his brain for the right words, “guy’s always on edge. Just yesterday me and Sam were caught n’ the middle of a few mafia goons.”

“Tis the season.” Sybil chimes in, prompting a snort from her friend.

“Bullets are flyin’ everywhere, the smell of gun smoke heavy in the air. I take two of ‘em down no prob but then,” Max furrows his brows, “then Sam just freezes up. Had ta save his sorry ass and off the rest myself. When I asked what happened, he tried to play it off like it was no big deal!”

“How long’s this been going on?”

“Not too long after we started dating.” The lagomorph sighed. At that moment, the man pointed out a sprig of mistletoe hung on the ceiling. Trapped like rats, the two hesitate but for a beat before kissing. “Makes me feel like, like-”

“You’re the problem.” 

Max pouted. “Stop that!”

Sybil chuckled. “Sorry. Force of habit. Still.” She placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. “You should tell him. You two may be terrible at talking about anything emotional, but Sam appreciates honesty.” The woman squeezed it and slid back to her claimed space. “He’ll listen. You’ve just gotta trap him somehow.”

#sam and max #sam & max #sam and max freelance police #my fics #post season 3 #spoilers

[verai-marcel]

We’ve Only Just Begun (RDO OC x OC Fic)

Summary: Everett, a few weeks out of Sisika, has paid his debt to Mrs LeClerk. Though he’s now free, he can’t return to his old life as a ranger, so he opts for the next closest career: bounty hunting. When he’s handed a lead to some slavers related to the ones that had kidnapped his sister before, he jumps at the chance to wipe them out once and for all. But there’s a catch: he has to take a partner with him. 

Author’s Notes: I’m being self-indulgent. This is how Verai and Everett first met.

Tags: oc x oc, rdo oc, origin story, historical racism, slow burn, strangers to friends, gun violence, minor wounds

Word Count:  8764 (I know it’s long, but mostly dialogue.)

--------------------

Everett stood in the middle of the police station in St. Denis, listening to the sheriff ramble on about the man on the bounty poster he was looking at. The sheriff had heard that the bounty had been seen skulking around the ruins of the old train station a couple hours outside of the city. It wasn’t going to be a hard bounty; the man was just a sneaky bastard that had given his deputies the slip one too many times. 

“Alright, I got it. I’ll bring’im back in one piece.”

“Preferably alive, Mr. Osborn.”

“Of course, who do you take me for?”

After taking the poster with the sheriff’s condescending ‘good luck’, Everett left the city on his black chestnut thoroughbred, the only thing tying him to his past. He had left Sisika swearing that he would drop his old life and everything around it, but he wouldn’t give up Ares for the world. Once Mrs LeClerk had told him he had some free time between jobs, he had snuck back to his old stable and taken him away. He was pretty sure they just let him take Ares back with no trouble, since he swore he saw a guard nod his way and turn around when he thought he had been caught.

The sun had moved overhead by the time he reached the ruined station. He let his horse rest a few hundred feet away and snuck over to the building, his navy revolver out and at the ready. Hearing some rustling amongst the rubble, he slowly turned a corner. 

A man, sneaking past a broken wall, looked over his shoulder at the exact moment that Everett appeared. 

"Shit!" the man exclaimed, bolting over the crumbling piles of bricks. 

Everett immediately gave chase. Leaping over the wall, he landed with a loud squish into the bayou mud. 

"Goddammit," he muttered as he pulled his boots out of the mud and made his way to solid ground. Putting on some extra speed, he whistled for his horse to follow. 

"Leave me alone!" the man yelled over his shoulder. 

Everett ignored him and saved his breath for running. 

Then the man pulled out a gun and shot blindly over his shoulder. 

Ducking and weaving, Everett dodged most of the bullets. The last one grazed his upper arm, tearing his shirt and burning his skin. His temper running a little short already because of the mud, he whistled again for his horse and kept chasing after the man, now more pissed off. He hated being shot at, and given that the man was running and shooting blindly over his shoulder, he really shouldn’t have been able to hit him.

The sound of a horse made him smile. He was going to run the bastard down before tying him up. Maybe drag him through the mud a little.

Then his smile faltered. That didn’t sound like Ares—

A blur of brown and white rushed passed him as a criollo leapt into his path, cutting him off.

As if in slow motion, he met the eyes of the rider: a woman, hair as dark as the midnight sky, eyes as sharp as a hunter’s knife, lips painted red like the lanterns near the gunshop of St. Denis.

He kept running, but watched as she expertly threw some bolas at the bounty. Hitting him in the legs, the man went down face first into the ground and slid a few feet. She skidded her horse to a stop and leapt off, landing in front of the man.

“Stupid bitch!”

The woman casually knocked the man out with a swift drop kick to the head before she pulled his arms out of the mud and tied his wrists together.

Everett caught up to her and was quickly met by a Schofield revolver pointed at his chest.

He put his hands up. “Whoa, hold on, I was hunting him first.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Since when?”

“Since this morning.”

The woman pulled a bounty poster out of her satchel with her free hand. “I’ve been after him since last night.”

Everett stared at the poster for a moment before clicking his tongue. “Damn sheriff,” he muttered.

She stowed the poster away, but didn’t stop aiming her gun at him. “You can go, I got it from here.”

For just a moment, he wondered if he could fast draw on her, shoot the gun out of hand, knock her out, and take the bounty, but quickly thought better of it.

“I’ll shoot you before you take a step,” she said, reading his thoughts.

He sighed. “I wouldn’t actually try anything,” he relented. “I know when I’m beat.”

“But you did think about it.” Nodding her head towards the man, she continued. “Help me put him on my horse, and we can split the bounty 20-80.”

“40-60.”

The woman hummed. "30-70,” she finally said, looking at him

Everett narrowed his eyes, glaring.

The woman shrugged. "You don't have to help me. I can do this myself."

And take the bounty for yourself, he thought. "Fine, fine. 30-70."

She stepped back, her gun still trained on him. Everett got the hint and slowly walked over to the unconscious man, picked him up, and dumped him on the back of her horse. Standing back, he turned to her, noticing her eyes were focused on something behind him, but he didn't dare take his eyes off someone with a gun aimed at him. 

A soft nickering and the wet thud of hooves got closer until he could feel his horse nudging him in the back of his head.

The woman raised an eyebrow. 

"Not now, Ares," Everett muttered. 

His horse kept nudging him. 

"Ares, stop."

He felt his horse's lips playing with his hair. Everett sighed. So much for trying to be a tough guy. 

The woman snickered. "I guess you aren’t so bad, if your horse is this silly." She holstered her gun and walked towards him. 

"Wait, Ares doesn't like strangers—" he started to say, just as she held her hand out. To his immense surprise, Ares dipped his head and pushed his muzzle into her hand. 

"Hey there, big boy. Are you bothering your owner for a treat?" she said gently, her voice changing into something more sing-song while she spoke to the horse. 

The woman was now close enough for her scent to wash over him. Most women he knew smelled like perfume, flowers, something exceedingly feminine. Her scent was different. She smelled of rain and thunderstorms, of leaves and meadows. And when she turned to look at him, he found himself drowning in her dark eyes. He noticed an emotion flicker in her eyes before she glanced away, looking back at his horse. What was that?

Everett swallowed. He suddenly had a strong urge to get to know her better. "Name's Everett. Everett Osborn."

Without looking away from Ares, who she was now petting with soft strokes, she replied, "My friends call me Verai." She turned to him with a wry grin on her face. "So you'll have to call me Ms. Marcel."

Everett grinned back. "Alright Ms. Marcel." He gave Ares a pat on the neck before mounting up. "Lead the way."

She nodded before heading back to her horse and trotting towards the city. 

Everett took his cutter hat off the saddle and put it back on his head as he followed her. They rode in silence for a while, nothing but the sounds of birds and the occasional passersby accompanied them. Soon enough, he got curious about her. 

"So what's his name?" Everett asked, gesturing at her horse.

"Sleipnir."

"Where'd you learn that name?" 

"A friend."

When she didn't give any further details, he tried another question. "So, you do a lot of bounty hunting?" 

"Yup."

Another few moments passed. Everett sighed. She wasn't a talkative one. "How long have you been a bounty hunter?" 

Verai looked up at the sky for a few moments. "Nine years. Probably."

"Probably? How old were you when you started?" 

"Nineteen."

Everett did the math in his head. She didn't look even close to his age, so he was surprised to find that she was only two years younger than him. He thought she was in her early twenties. 

"And you?" she asked. 

"Just started a few weeks ago," he said, a bit abashedly. He looked over at her to find her watching him with a patient expression, like a parent waiting for a child to confess. 

But he was no child. He didn't particularly want to share the whole tale of why he suddenly decided to become a bounty hunter. 

She eventually shrugged and looked away. Everett let out a small sigh. He wasn't going to get her to open up to him if he didn't do it first. 

He wondered why he even cared. 

The rest of the ride was made in silence until they reached the police station, nodding at the officers outside as they brought their horses into the courtyard. Dismounting easily, Verai moved to take the man off the back of her horse. 

Everett quickly went to help her. "Let me…"

He trailed off as he watched her easily lift the man up into a fireman's carry and walk into the police office without breaking her stride. Following her inside, he could see the sheriff looking as if this was normal. 

"Took a little longer than I thought," Verai said, dumping the body in a cell. "He's alive."

"I know, you're good about that." The sheriff opened a drawer and pulled out a wad of bills. "This is for you."

Verai took the money and counted it, then counted out a third of the bills and handed them to Everett. 

The sheriff finally noticed Everett. "Oh, I see you ran into our lady hunter."

"Why didn't you tell me there was already someone after him?" Everett asked, trying not to growl. 

The sheriff shrugged. "She didn't come back in the morning. Thought she might've died."

Verai let out a short laugh. "Please, you sent this greenhorn to me on purpose."

The sheriff grinned, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "You never stick around, Ms Marcel. It was the only way I could get you to meet Mr Osborn."

"And why would you do that to me?" Verai asked with only a small quirk to her lips indicating her faint amusement. 

Everett felt a little affronted at being talked about as if he wasn't here. He opened his mouth to speak just as the sheriff suddenly stood up. 

"There's a group of men that need to be arrested."

Verai raised an eyebrow. "I'll just get–"

"No. It has to be with Mr. Osborn." The sheriff turned to Everett. "It concerns those slavers."

Everett's eyes narrowed. "How do you know–" 

"Your pa and I go way back. He told me to keep an eye out for you if I ever saw you. So here I am, throwin' you a bone."

Everett glanced at Verai, who was standing quietly, listening to every word. "Why does she have to come?"

"Because she's familiar with this area, much more than you."

Everett couldn't argue with that. 

Verai finally spoke. "Why do I have to bring him?" She nodded her head at Everett. "This tenderfoot will only get killed if this group is as dangerous as I think they are." 

"I–" 

The sheriff interrupted Everett. "He's experienced."

Verai and the sheriff quietly stared at each other. Everett sensed a silent battle of wills and wisely stayed out of it.

"Fine," Verai said after a while. Then she turned to Everett. "But this is my job. I'm taking point."

Everett furrowed his brow. "Listen, I know this group, I know how they operate." 

Verai ignored him as she turned back to the sheriff and held out her hand expectantly. He wordlessly handed her an envelope. 

Taking the letter without reading it, she used it to salute the sheriff and left the building, Everett nodding at the sheriff as he followed her out. 

***

"So where are we going?" Everett asked, falling into step beside Verai as they led their horses out of the courtyard and onto the road. 

"The hotel."

"I know we just met sweetheart, but I like your style," Everett teased, reaching out to touch her elbow. 

Gracefully dodging his hand, Verai rolled her eyes. "I am getting some sleep because I've been up all night tracking that halfwit. You are going to get supplies for our trip."

"Now hold on, I'm not your servant–"

"I thought you would want to be efficient. Otherwise you can wait until I've had some rest, then we can buy supplies together." She gave him a droll look. "Up to you."

He couldn't say anything at all. She was right. "I'll get supplies," he finally mumbled. 

***

Verai split off from Everett at the intersection; she was going to get a bath and sleep, while he procured supplies for the trip. She didn't need to read the letter from the sheriff to know where they were headed. Having heard whispers about men hiding in Roanoke Ridge, taking people into caves who were never seen again, she had a feeling they would be traveling north and would be up there for a while. 

Paying for her bath and a few hours sleep, she made her way to the room in the back and waited for the bath lady to fill up the tub. 

"Rough day, sugar?" 

"Yeah. And the sheriff just partnered me with some novice on the next job."

The lady gave her a sympathetic smile. "Well, good luck out there."

Verai nodded to her as she left. "Thanks."

Removing her clothes and sinking into the warm tub, Verai let out a deep sigh. She didn't want to work with the man. Nothing against him personally, but when she had finally gotten a good look at him while she was petting his horse, she saw a resemblance to her former partner, and her heart had squeezed tight. 

She could stare down ten bandits without so much as batting an eye, but when face to face with a man who reminded her of far too much, she had shut down.

“Don’t be weak,” she muttered to herself as she scrubbed herself clean, finally hauling her ass out of the tub, getting dressed, and heading to her room for a few hours of shut eye.

***

A light rapping on her door pulled Verai from her dream. Blinking away the sleep, she was surprised to find tears streaking down her cheek. She couldn’t recall her dream, just felt a deep sadness. Deciding to bury her feelings, as she always did, she sat up to face the day, or what was left of it. She looked outside to see the sun low in the sky; she had slept longer than she had planned.

“Ms. Marcel?” A deep voice came from outside her door.

“I’m gettin’ up, hold your horses.” Grumbling, she rolled out of bed, pulled on the rest of her clothes and her gun belt, grabbed her satchel, and opened the door.

Everett was leaning against the door frame, a smile on his face. “I was about to come in and wake you up, sleeping beauty.”

“And I would’ve punched you,” she said without missing a beat. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” She walked past him to the front of the hotel. Passing the key back to the clerk, she exited the building and went straight to her horse.

“You’re not even going to ask about the supplies?” Everett asked, falling into step next to her.

“I trust you to accomplish at least that. Or are you saying that I shouldn’t?”

Everett shook his head. “You’re a tough one, ain’tcha?”

Verai checked the saddle one last time before mounting up. Turning to him as he did the same, she responded, “I’m not particularly tough. Just straight shootin’.”

She could hear Everett’s amused chuckle as they turned their horses towards the main road and started north.

***

“We goin’ to stop for the night?”

“The night is young. Best to get as far north as possible while we can.”

“We could’ve started earlier.”

Verai glared at Everett, who was focused on the road ahead, though his eyes did glance over at her before looking forward again. “I overslept. You could’ve left without me.”

“And leave a lady behind? Never,” he said, a little more seriously than she had expected.

Unable to think of a response, Verai just left it alone and changed the subject. “Let’s go a little faster then, if you can keep up. We’ll hit the border of Lemoyne and camp near there.”

Without waiting for a response, she urged her horse into a gallop and took off. Hearing the pounding hoofbeats of his horse behind her, she smiled.

***

They reached the border and headed off the main road towards a small clearing. By lantern light, they set up their bedrolls.

“Should we start a fire?”

“No.”

Everett looked at her, wondering at her terse response.

“Smoke will attract bandits,” she finally said.

“Oh.”

Verai considered Everett for a moment. “You haven’t been bounty hunting for very long. Have you spent a lot of time on the road?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I did. I guess I never really thought about bandits attacking me. Usually traveled with a posse.”

“I see. When you’re alone, you have to prevent anyone from finding you.”

“Is that why we’re in this circle of trees?”

She nodded.

Everett considered her for a moment. A woman, alone, bounty hunting. He watched as she switched off her lantern and plopped down on her bedroll. Following suit, he lay on his back, staring up at the stars through the trees.

“Ms. Marcel?”

“Yeah?”

“Sweet dreams.”

When she didn’t respond, he turned to look at her, only to find her staring at him blankly.

“What?”

“Been a long time since someone’s said that to me,” she said wistfully. “Good night.”

As she turned away from him and fell asleep, Everett watched her steady breathing and lost track of the time as he wondered how long she had been alone.

***

They got up in the morning and headed north once more. And once more, Everett tried to get to know his reticent companion.

“Why’d the sheriff stop you when you said you were goin’ to get some help?”

Verai shrugged at Everett’s question.

“C’mon, you can tell me, I can keep a secret.”

“More like you’re nosy.”

Everett shook his head. “Forgive me for giving a damn.”

Rolling her eyes, Verai decided to humor him. “I occasionally ride with another posse, but they’re… a bit wild.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They’re good people, but wherever we go, there tends to be a lot of dead people in our wake.”

“Did those people deserve it?”

“Let’s just say that if I utter their name, other gangs steer clear.”

Everett wanted to ask more, but she was clearly protecting them. “They sound fun. Maybe you can introduce me to them some time.”

Verai laughed out loud. “Oh, no, they’d eat you for breakfast.”

“I am mighty tasty, you know,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

She delicately snorted. “Right.”

***

“You sure you want to stop here?” Everett asked as they entered Van Horn, the derelict buildings creaking with the wind.

“Just for a quick meal before we head on. We should hit Annesburg sometime after nightfall. Then it’s all wilderness from there.”

Everett eyed the people in town warily. If he were still a ranger, he would’ve kept going. A lawman seemed like the last person that anyone in this town wanted to see. Following Verai into the saloon, he took in the patrons as he always did, quickly judging who would be a threat and who was safe.

Three men at the back of the room had turned their heads when Verai had walked in and hadn’t looked away. His hackles raised, Everett stepped closer to her.

“Been a while, Verai,” the owner said with a smile.

“Sure has, Ms Dawson.”

“I told you, call me Josie.”

“Alright, fine, Josie. Two stews, please.”

“That’ll be six dollars.”

Everett leaned past Verai and slapped the money on the bar.

Verai glared at him.

“Just treatin’ a lady right,” Everett said with a wink.

The owner looked at Verai. “You finally got yerself a nice one,” she said, chuckling.

“No, he’s not–”

“I’m just teasin’ ya,” she laughed. “I’ll get you your stew. Go sit down.”

“Thank you,” Verai said as she turned to find a table. Everett followed her, and she couldn’t help but feel like he was following her a little too closely, like an overprotective dog.

Sitting down, she noticed that he kept glancing over her shoulder. “Ignore them,” she muttered. “There are always people like that.”

“I don’t like how they’re lookin’ at you.”

“Well, get used to it. I did.”

Everett looked at her, and the pity in his eyes both infuriated her and saddened her. 

“Listen,” she said quietly. “I don’t want your pity, or your misguided sense of justice. There’s no point in raising a ruckus if it’ll just cause more misunderstandings.”

“But–”

“No buts. Just. Let. It. Go.”

Everett let out a breath and huffed. “Fine. But if they try anything, I’ll tear them apart.”

Verai sat back. “And why do you care?”

“Because you’re my partner. That’s all the reason I need.”

“Oh,” she said, taken aback. Surprised by his response, she could only look down at the table until the food arrived.

***

They finished their food quietly, with the occasional comment on the quality, and left the saloon satisfied.

"We're being followed," Everett whispered.

"I know," Verai whispered back. "Don't do–" 

"What do you want," he growled as he turned around, addressing the three men from the back table. 

Verai closed her eyes and sighed silently before she, too, turned around. Facing the three men, she assessed each one. The one on the left was shorter than the other two and had a bowler hat on. The one on the right was a little lanky, with an ill-fitting jacket. And the one in the center had unruly mutton chops and a wicked look in his eyes. 

"This isn't ideal," she grumbled. 

"Don't see many of your kind around here," the man in the center said as he looked her up and down, as if he was appraising a piece of meat. 

Verai narrowed her eyes as a cold calm started to settle into her stomach.

The man chuckled. "Maybe we can take you for a ride."

Without warning, the other two men leapt onto Everett, taking him down. As they wrestled on the ground, the man with the mutton chops stalked towards Verai. He leered at her, licking his lips. "Never had one of you before. Bet you're a crier."

Then he lunged.

Verai swiftly dodged, spinning out of the way and using the momentum to roundhouse kick the man in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground. 

"And you'll never find out," she muttered as she quickly drop kicked him in the head, knocking him out. 

Turning to Everett, she watched him throw one man off his shoulder just as the other man threw a punch into his stomach. Coughing harshly, Everett grabbed the man's arm and tugged hard, lifting up a knee and delivering a hit to his stomach in return. Seeing the other man get up, Verai ran and tackled him just as he was coming back for another hit. 

Knocking out his current attacker with an elbow to the back of his neck, Everett turned around to see Verai pummeling the other man until he was out cold. When she stood up, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat from her brow, she looked over at him and half-smiled, a quirk of her lips that made his heart stutter. 

What a woman. 

***

They left Van Horn quickly after that, not wanting to stir up more trouble. Riding hard until sunset, they finally reached Annesburg, a small mining town filled with run down buildings and run down people. Everett followed Verai as she hitched her horse next to a nondescript building, the green paint faded and peeling from the wall boards. To his bemusement, she walked towards the gunsmith next door. 

"I already bought ammo," he said. 

"We're not here for that," she said as she entered, the door creaking loudly on its hinges. 

The man behind the counter nodded in greeting, glancing at Everett for a moment. 

"Two baths and two rooms, please." 

"Only have one room available."

Verai balked. Turning to Everett, she opened her mouth to suggest camping, but he stepped forward. 

"We'll take the room," he said, handing over a dollar and two quarters. 

Verai stared at him in shock. 

"You'll catch flies like that," he teased as he accepted the key and two bath tickets from the gunsmith. 

Quickly shutting her mouth, Verai shook her head as she snatched one of the tickets out of Everett's hand and left the shop, walking back to the first building.

“Thank you, mister,” he said over his shoulder to the gunsmith as he followed after her.

The inside of the puke green building wasn't nearly as shabby as the outside, Everett observed as he looked around in the little hallway between the bathroom and the two sleeping rooms on the other side. It was rather sparse, but it was tidy. 

Verai handed her ticket to the bath lady leaning against the wall. As she went to fill the tub, Everett opened the door to their shared room and tossed his satchel in the corner. Verai stayed at the door, leaning against the jamb and shaking her head. The bed wasn't very large and the rug on the ground looked muddy. She decided on bringing her bedroll in here to sleep on the floor. 

"Not even going to ask if I wanted to bathe first?" Everett asked with an eyebrow raised as he sat on the bed, groaning softly as the pain in his ribs made itself known. 

Verai turned to him with a droll stare. "I already know you'd turn it down. I'm not going to waste my breath."

"How do you know that?" 

She grinned knowingly at him. "Because you're not an asshole."

"Why, thank you." Everett then gave her his most charming smile. "C'mere," he coaxed, patting the spot next to him. "Sit with me."

Laughing, she shook her head. "Nope."

"Why not–" 

"Bath's ready!" the lady called out from the hallway. 

Verai waved goodbye as she walked away, shutting the door behind her. 

"Dammit," Everett uttered under his breath.

***

“Your turn.”

Everett was sitting in the creaky chair at the small table in the room, cleaning his guns. Getting up, he let out a pained breath. The punch to his ribs was hurting more than he thought it would. 

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” he lied as he got up and walked past Verai. The fresh scent that was distinctively hers hit him as he walked past, and it took everything he had to keep walking, to not turn around, pull her into his arms, and bury his face into her neck. There was something about her that made him both calm and restless, as if something was just not quite right, but it lay just underneath her composed yet snarky exterior.

Heading into the bath, the lady smiled at him. “Need some extra help? Fifty cents.”

Everett looked at her, with her corset pushing up her ample bosom, her blond hair in ringlets around her shoulders, her red lips, her powdered cheeks, and her eyes lined with makeup. She smelled like roses and had a very cute smile.

And for the first time, Everett declined. “Sorry. Not this time, sweetheart.”

She pouted. “Too bad. Not often I get to see a fine man like yourself around here.” 

Shutting the door behind her, he was left alone, wondering what the hell he was doing. He had always welcomed the warm touch of a woman, whether in bed or in a bath, though he was a little picky about his choices. But he had never gone long without satisfying his baser desires.

Was it because of her?

Taking off his clothes, he looked in the mirror and examined the bruise that was growing on his abdomen. The coloration on his skin made him raise an eyebrow. How hard had the guy hit him? Figuring that there wasn’t much he could do about it other than wait for it to heal, he sank into the tub and bathed himself, lost in thought.

***

“No,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What?”

Everett had come back into the room to find Verai sitting on her bedroll that she had laid out on the floor next to the bed, mixing some herbs with a mortar and pestle. The fact that she had assumed she would be taking the floor hurt his honor.

“You’re takin’ the bed,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“You’re more injured than I am.”

Everett blinked. She noticed?

She sighed. “Lie down on the bed and take your shirt off.”

He smiled, his eyes softening. Taking a few steps closer until he was standing over her, he went down on one knee so he could look her in the eyes. “Sweetheart, been waiting all this time for you to say that to me.”

Verai reached over and pressed two fingers into his abdomen, exactly where he had been punched. He gasped and winced.

“Just do as I say,” she groused.

“Yes ma’am,” he said wryly as he took off his shirt and lay back on the bed.

He watched her stuff the herbal paste into a small muslin pouch and tie it off. Then she sat at the side of the bed and assessed his condition, observing him with a clinical blankness.

“What?” he said, his voice softer than he had intended.

She shrugged. “Just looking for other wounds.” Placing the poultice on his bruise, she flattened it out to cover more of his bruise and pressed down slightly.

“Hold this down,” she said, taking his hand and pressing it against the bag. “I’ll be back.”

“Where you goin’?” he asked as she got up and headed for the door.

“Need to stretch my legs, been sittin’ for too long, grinding those herbs for you.”

“Oh.”

She left before he could say anymore.

***

Verai quickly walked outside into the cold night air and took a deep breath. When Everett had walked in, his hair damp, his shirt half-buttoned and untucked from his pants, she had felt a heat in her body that she had not felt in a very long time. Very few men had this affect on her. The fact that he did wasn't lost on her. Old feelings were slowly being rewritten with new ones.

She did like him. She didn’t want to. But she did.

Taking another deep breath, she stared up at the night sky, the stars hidden by the gas lamps that dotted the road. Only the morning star and the waxing moon could really shine past the man-made illumination.

“What would you say, ài rén?” she whispered to the sky. When the morning star winked, she sighed. 

I can’t let go of you. I won’t.

***

When Verai walked back inside, Everett was already asleep with the occasional light snore. She smiled softly at him, not understanding why she felt a fondness for him, only knowing that she did. His hand had slipped from his torso, so she quietly took the poultice away, setting it on the table to clean up later, and slipped the blanket over him.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered before she crawled into her bedroll and closed her eyes, but her last thoughts were of the past, and as she drifted to sleep, she had a feeling that it would not be restful.

***

Everett woke up to the sounds of shifting fabric and soft gasping. Springing up, he hopped off the bed and knelt beside Verai.

“Sweetheart?”

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see her curled up in her bedroll, shivering slightly. He touched her shoulder but quickly removed his hand when she gasped again.

“Ms. Marcel!”

Verai’s eyes shot open and she turned to him, her eyes wide. She was breathing heavily, her heartbeat audible in the silent night.

“It’s alright,” he murmured.

She swallowed and nodded. Slowly sitting up, she waved her hand in a 'don't worry' gesture. “I’m good.”

He held her hand. “You're freezing.” He leaned in closer. “You want to sleep on the bed?”

She shook her head.

“Even by yourself?”

She kept shaking her head.

He sighed. “Then I’m joining you.”

“What?”

Everett lay down next to her. Not touching her, he turned to his side and offered his back. “Use me for warmth,” he said softly.

He waited.

Then he felt her lay back down and curl up against him.

He smiled.

***

The next morning, Everett woke up alone. He bolted upright, looking for Verai. When he saw her sitting at the table, cleaning her guns, he breathed a sigh of relief. Wordlessly, he got up and got ready to go, tapping her shoulder when he was done. 

She looked up at him and nodded. 

Neither of them spoke as they headed out, mounted their horses, and traveled north. 

He wanted to ask what she dreamed, wanted to ask if she was really alright. But seeing her, seemingly fine, he felt his heart squeeze tight. She was shut off tighter than a mason jar and no amount of cajoling was going to get her to speak. 

So he'd respect her silence. If she needed time, he'd give it to her. 

They reached a crossroads north of Annesburg, and that's when Verai finally pulled out the letter the sheriff had given her. Opening it, she read the contents and flipped the paper over. 

Everett maneuvered his horse closer and looked over her shoulder. "What's that map?" 

"It marks where people have been reported missing."

She pulled a pencil out of her satchel and lightly drew a line through all of the dots, connecting them into an oddly shaped oval. "The slavers are probably around here," she said, tapping the middle of the shape. 

Everett looked at the map, then looked at her. "Alright. Lead the way."

"Not trying to take lead?" she remarked with a wry grin. 

"I can admit when I'm out of my element."

"Good. I like people who are self aware."

"So you like me?" 

Instead of snorting or laughing at him, she only turned away and urged her horse faster. 

"I'll take that as a yes," he mumbled, suddenly feeling happier. 

***

They searched caves and abandoned cabins all day, but couldn't find anything, until they reached a small road that had recent hoof prints leading up towards the cliffs. Dismounting, they grabbed their weapons and quietly made their way up the hill. 

Spotting a couple of guards, they both nodded at each other and split up, sneaking up on them and knocking them out before moving onwards, all the way to the cave mouth. 

As Verai began to step into the cave, Everett grabbed her arm. She looked at the offending hand, then up at him. 

"I'll take lead from here," he whispered. 

"Why?" 

"Because the first thing they'll do is dispose of the merchandise."

Verai's eyes widened as she realized what that meant. Nodding, she gestured towards the cave. "Lead on."

The cave was damp and smelled awful, but it was relatively well lit with torches dotting the path. Everett had his trusty navy revolver at the ready, while Verai had her Schofield, aiming upwards in case they ran into a victim. 

Down the tunnels they went until they came into an opening with several cages, all locked. Inside three of the cages was a person, some curled up in a ball, others sitting with their backs to the outside, slumped over as if they had given up all hope. 

Verai tapped Everett's shoulder. 

No guards? she mouthed to him. 

He leaned closer to her and whispered quietly in her ear. "They went on another hunt. Let's free them before they get back."

Together they shot off all the locks and herded the kidnapped victims out of the cave. There was one girl, one woman, and one boy. Scared and shaking, they barely registered the fact that they had been set free. Verai could only watch as Everett quietly calmed them down and got them to move as quickly as possible. 

Outside of the cave, both Everett and Verai whistled for their horses. Walking down the path, they kept an ear out for the return of the slavers, but there was no sign of them for the time being. 

Putting the children on Everett's horse and the woman with Verai, they rode back to town and returned them to the sheriff's office, where they could find their families from there. 

Everett looked at Verai. "We have to go back."

"I know."

"They’re not going to be happy with what we did."

"They won't be happy with what we're about to do to them."

Everett smiled. "I like you."

Verai smiled back. "I tolerate you."

Laughing, Everett charged forward on Ares with Verai following close behind, back to the cave to capture the criminals. 

***

The slavers were further up the road to the cave just as they were riding around the corner. 

"Should we just carry on and circle back behind them?" Verai suggested. 

Everett nodded. "Good idea."

"Of course, I came up with it."

He chuckled as they rode on as if they were just two travelers, keeping one eye on the slavers just in case. They rode a little further before turning up the hillside and through the forest to come up behind the gang. Grabbing their rifles, they left the horses and snuck through the bushes to a high point where they could see the gang riding down the trail towards the main road. Verai counted about ten men on horseback.

Keeping her ears open, she could overhear just a little bit of chatter as they rode past. 

"They killed Kenny and knocked out Jimmy, freed our merchandise. Follow the tracks, get'em."

Verai glanced at Everett. "You killed him?" 

"Only good slaver is a dead one," Everett growled, a darkness in his eyes that Verai noted for later. 

"So. Five for me and five for you. You got this?" she asked, getting her Lancaster repeater in position. 

"Of course." He raised his bolt action rifle.

Together they whispered. “Three. Two. One.”

Together they shot their marks. Two men went down, and the other eight men immediately scattered, some hopping off their horses and ducking behind cover, others brazenly charging forward to flush out their attackers.

Verai went right while Everett went left. She took a pop shot at one of the horsemen, striking their arm. Dodging past some bullets, she found a good spot behind some rocks and waited for the hoof beats to get closer. As they slowed, she pulled out her Schofield and peeked around the corner.

The man was slowly coming closer, his rifle aimed in her general direction, but he still seemed unable to see her. She quickly got two shots off, one hitting the man’s forehead. With no time to waste, she moved onwards, using the horse’s panic as a distraction as she headed in the opposite direction. Diving behind a fallen log, Verai holstered her revolver and pulled her rifle out once more. Peeking up, she saw three men coming towards her, and ducked back down again. Taking a deep breath, she gripped her gun, counted to three, and stood up.

“There’s the bitch—”

Bullets whizzed by, but she was focused. 

Three shots. 

Three men down. 

Letting out a breath, she felt the burn of a light graze on her arm. Counting her lucky stars that she had only gotten grazed, she hopped the log and kept moving towards the sound of gunfire. She came upon the road once more and quickly ducked behind a rock. She counted three men shooting towards Everett, who was standing behind a tree. He shifted out and quickly fired off three shots with his revolver, finally hitting one of the men with his last bullet in the head, his skull opening up like a glass jar breaking apart.

At the same time though, another bullet flew past Everett, blood appearing on his shoulder as he quickly hid behind the tree again, gasping.

“Everett!”

The remaining men immediately turned to her location.

"Shit," she snarled as she shot her rifle from the hip, her shots going wild. She moved backwards until she heard a noise to her left. 

Another man, bloodied and angry, burst out of the bushes and tackled her, knocking the rifle out of her grip. Throwing her elbow back into his face, she crawled out from under him, scrambling away. 

She leapt up just as he slashed at her back with his hunting knife. The blade cut through her shirt and into her skin, the sting making her wince as she stumbled away. 

"Was goin' to grab ya and sell ya," the man rasped. "But maybe I'll try ya out first."

Verai turned and pulled out her revolver only to have the man charge forward and knock it from her grasp. He then wrapped a huge hand around her neck and squeezed. 

So she kicked him in the groin, hard and with precision. The man gasped and went down to his knees, panting in pain. She quickly landed a hard kick on the back of his neck, the cracking sound reverberating through the trees as he went down like a fallen log. 

She took a moment to listen for anything else around her. Upon hearing nothing, she picked up her guns and headed to the last position she had seen Everett. 

She heard the sound of a very hard punch and saw several dead men up the road. Following the trail of blood and death, she saw Everett holding a man up by his neck against a tree, his fist held up, ready for another punch. 

"Where is your leader?" Everett snarled. 

"I told you, I don't know."

Everert dropped the man and promptly pulled out his revolver. Pressing it to the man's forehead, he glared with dark promise. "One last time. Where is he."

The man started to blubber incoherently. 

Verai stepped forward and put her hand on Everett's arm. He twitched in surprise, apparently so intent on his interrogation that he had not noticed her approach. 

"He doesn't know," she said quietly. "Let's take him back to the sheriff."

Everett looked at her, but not seeing her. She lowered his arm, the gun moving away from the man's head. 

Then Verai quickly stepped behind the man and elbowed him at the base of his skull, knocking him out. 

Everett was standing still, his eyes still blank, watching her as she pulled out a lasso and tied him up. 

"Everett," she called to him quietly.

He blinked. "I, uh, I lost sight of the job."

Verai glanced back at the dead men they had left behind. "To be fair, they probably deserved it," she said with a wry grin. "At least, that's what I tell myself so I can sleep at night."

Everett smiled in return; he understood it was her roundabout way of cheering him up. Holstering his gun, he picked up the unconscious man and together, he and Verai walked back to their horses. 

"You're hurt," Everett said when he saw the angry red line slashed along her back. 

She waved her hand. "It happens."

He stopped himself from asking if she was alright. With the way she was carrying herself, she was clearly in pain, but holding it in, just like she did most things. He would wait until they got back to Annesburg. 

Then he'd treat her right. 

***

Dumping the unconscious man at the sheriff's, Everett explained the situation. Verai shared the letter and got his signature so she could take it back to the sheriff in St. Denis. By then it was the end of the day, the sun sinking into the water and coloring the sky with reds and oranges. They left the sheriff’s office and started to head back towards the gunsmith.

"We need to take care of your back."

“We?” 

“Yes, we. You can’t reach back there.”

Verai suddenly looked away. “I… I suppose.”

***

Everett took charge, getting a room and a bath, guiding Verai by the elbow into the bathroom, with nary a peep from her, which was both gratifying and upsetting. He liked that she trusted him enough not to protest. He didn’t like that she was in so much pain that she couldn’t even snark back at him.

“I’ll turn around, so get in the bath. I’ll clean your back.”

“Alright,” she said, barely a whisper.

He heard her clothes drop to the floor, heard the water splash as she got in, and then a soft cough.

“Ready?”

“Yup.”

He turned. Seeing her curled up in the tub, her head on her knees, dried blood giving the water a reddish hue, Everett’s heart clenched. He swallowed hard and rolled up his sleeves, took a washcloth and sat on the edge of the tub. Gently cleaning the wound, he started humming softly, a melody from his childhood. Once she was clean, he handed the wash cloth to her, letting her wash the rest of her body on her own, while he turned away, giving her some privacy, but unwilling to leave her alone.

He suddenly felt her leaning against him. Turning his head, he saw her eyes fluttering shut, as if even sitting up was too much effort. She looked up at him as he reached out to touch her hair. He saw the bruises on her neck when her braid shifted over her shoulder and felt a rage that he quickly tamped down. Now wasn’t the time for that. Besides, the man who did that to her was probably already dead.

“...’Rett?” Her voice cracked.

“Hm?”

“I’m sleepy.”

Everett nodded and got up to grab a towel. He held it out and turned his head away as she pulled herself up and stepped out of the tub, letting him wrap the towel around her, drying her off.

“You lose a lot of blood?”

“Feels like it.”

He could only nod. “Let’s hop back to the room, I’ll bandage you up.”

“Lemme put my pants on, at least,” she said with more vigor than she had since they returned to town.

Everett chuckled. She must be feeling a little better if, even in pain, she was worried about little things like modesty.

***

Everett poked his head out into the small hallway. No one was around at this time of night, so he quickly ushered Verai out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, locking the door behind him. Without being told, she sat on the bed facing away from him.

He could see her back, covered in white scars, and wondered about her past. Gathering up the bandages, he started to wrap them around her.

“Don’t ask,” she said all of a sudden.

“I wouldn’t,” he said softly. “I’ll wait ‘til you’re ready to tell me.”

“You’ll be waiting forever.”

“If you ain’t ready, you ain’t ready.”

He saw her shoulders sag a little, realizing that she had felt relief with his words. Finishing up the bandage, he handed her one of his shirts. “Somethin’ to sleep in, since your other shirt is cut up and bloody.”

She took his shirt and eyed it suspiciously.

“It’s clean,” he said, affronted.

She smiled and looked up at him. “Didn’t think you’d be offended if I thought otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t offer a lady a dirty shirt.”

“Who said I was a lady?”

“I did. End of story.”

Verai laughed softly and shook her head as she pulled his shirt on. It was one of his favorite ones, a light blue shirt that was starting to become a bit threadbare with age. She buttoned it up and slowly laid down on the bed, positioning herself on her side.

“Thanks ‘Rett,” she mumbled as she closed her eyes.

“Can I sleep next to you?” he asked before he could think better of it.

“If you like.”

Everett crawled into the bed with her, facing her back, and wondered why, for the first time in his life, he had wanted a woman in his bed, but only to sleep beside and nothing more.

***

The next morning as dawn broke through the curtains covering the one small window in the room, Verai awoke, her muscles sore and her throat dry. Her neck hurt from where the man had dug in his fingers, but otherwise she was alive and mostly healthy. She pushed herself up slowly and turned her head.

Everett was still sleeping, laying on his back with one hand on his stomach, one arm hanging off the side of the small bed. She smiled at the scene; he had kept his distance, giving her most of the bed while he hovered at the edge, making sure she was comfortable.

He wasn’t a bad guy at all.

She carefully got up and saw his cutter hat on the table next to their gun belts. Taking the hat, she smirked and put it on before looking in the small mirror hanging on the wall. Looking left and right, she grinned. 

“Not bad,” she mumbled.

“I agree,” Everett said, startling her.

“Dammit,” she grumbled as she turned around. “Now I have to steal it.”

He laughed. “I’ll tie you up if you do.”

It was her turn to laugh. “You’d have to catch me first.”

They looked at each other, their eyes meeting, and her laughter died as she caught something a little more serious in his gaze.

“We need to get back to St. Denis, tell the sheriff what happened. And deliver the letter,” she said, rapidly changing the subject as she removed his hat and placed it back on the table.

Everett nodded. “Well, let’s get goin’ then.”

***

They packed up and rode hard back to St Denis. Riding as fast as their horses could carry them, they made it back to the sheriff by sundown, handing over the letter and receiving the bounty, though it was greatly decreased since most of the men were dead.

“Personally, I think you did the world a favor,” the sheriff remarked as Verai counted the bills. “But rules are rules.”

Everett nodded. “Appreciate the sentiment anyway.”

Satisfied with the payout, Verai took half and gave the other to Everett. “See you around, sheriff.”

“Have a good evenin’, you two.”

***

“Where to next?”

Verai looked at Everett, a little surprised by his question. “I need to get back to my posse. It’s been a week, I said I’d come back by then.”

Everett nodded as he stepped a little closer to her. “I’d like to work with you again.”

Verai looked up at him, his natural smile more brilliant than the flirty ones that he had tried when they first met. Was it only a few days ago? She took a step back, but then held her ground. “That’d be good. Maybe in a week we can meet back here and catch another bounty.”

“Sounds great.” He took his hat off and placed it on her head.

“What’s this for?”

“Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

Verai smiled shyly at his words. “How about I just borrow it. I’ll give it back to you next time I see you.”

Everett laughed. “Alright, it’s a promise.”

“A promise,” she said softly, making his heart skip.

They mounted their horses and looked at each other as they started to head in separate directions. 

“Can I call you by your first name?” he asked.

She smirked. “I suppose you can.” Patting her horse, she gave him a wicked grin. “Maybe one day, you’ll get to call me by my real name too.”

“Wait, what?”

“See ya!” Verai turned her horse and bolted out of town, laughing as she went.

Everett huffed and shook his head before chuckling. She left him with more questions than answers.

He wouldn’t have her any other way.

--------------------

End Notes: Completely self-indulgent, I know. Hope you enjoyed it!

#everett osborn #verai marcel #rdo oc #oc x oc #rdo oc x oc #writing #fanfic #very long post #everett x verai

[nomanwalksalone]

FROM INSIDE THE VELVET MASK

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

We cannot outrun history’s arrow. d’Artagnan and his boon companions the Three Musketeers learned that over 5,000-odd pages of Alexandre Dumas’ rambling historical fiction.  History’s arrow? I should have said history’s cannonball, since that is what ended the real d’Artagnan’s life at the siege of Maastricht, an inevitability Dumas had to write into the life of his invented d’Artagnan, at the very end of the last Musketeers romance, The Man in the Iron Mask.

It’s that mysterious masked man, himself a historical mystery, who’s responsible for d’Artagnan’s isolation at his death. Out of the true historical footnote of a mysterious masked prisoner, Dumas constructed an entire, lengthy, laborious novel embroiling the four friends in a failed plot to replace absolutist horndog King Louis XIV with a lookalike. As Quentin Tarantino was not yet even a gleam in some foot-fetishizing ancestor’s eye, Dumas’ narrative had to follow the broad lines of history, rather than warp it in some vernacular virage. The gang’s attempt agley, the impostor is arrested, imprisoned for the rest of his life and made to wear an iron mask so that no one ever sees his face and notices his resemblance.

An iron mask. The more one thinks about it, the more frightening it seems. Heavy, suffocating with smothered hot breaths, hard and harsh, a portable prison.

Except it wasn’t. There was a real masked prisoner, who ended his days in relatively comfortable confinement, his name even noted in prison records, although many still insist it was a pseudonym for some more scandalous personage. He did indeed have to wear a mask, but generally only when he was going to be seen by others, and it was a somewhat less frightening velvet, rather than stark iron. Less a muzzle than a muffle.

A life of velvety confinement seems apposite right now. A strange isolation, where we are our own jailers. No iron mask or bars, but dusty carpets and omnipresent screens. No luxurious prison this – to complain of having to work while confined with children to self-teach [sic] is to demonstrate the most entitled of humblebrags, because so many of us during this period have no job at all, or risk ruin as we all curtail our behavior, including our spending habits. Still others of us have no chance to self-isolate, having to serve others – whether as servers, providers of emergency services, or health care providers – as a vocation.

I fall into the first category, which has to inform what I write, and I take blame for all undeserved entitlement of which its exhalations – as humid and stale as those of Dumas’ literary Iron Mask ‑‑ may reek. I faced up to the near future with an understanding and decision. As long as I had to work at home, I had to set both routine and ritual. Routine: the schedule of activities I know I need to put in place for my seven-year-old, lest he become a prisoner of the screen dimension in all its forms, from supposedly educational apps and virtual museum tours to video games and hot and cold streaming animated movies. Routine for myself, too, finding the rhythm that allows both my partner and I to work and supervise our child. But to enforce that routine, ritual is necessary for me. Just as mysterious prisoner Eustache Dauger donned his velvet mask before interactions, I need my own textile barrier.  Clothes don’t make the man, but they help him assume – or hide-- different identities. That ritual is dressing for responsibilities, a clear change from the slouchiness of what most of us otherwise wear at home, even if dressing for responsibility at home does not mean suit and tie.

A favorite suit and tie, clothes I feel good in, have been the armor of the workplace, both protection and plumage. They made me feel professional, calmed the worries and the impostor syndrome that everyone (you feel it too, don’t you? Please say yes) of my generation feels. It’s thus a pity that I haven’t finished saving up for, and perhaps, in this cratering economy, never will, a dressing gown, not the ratty bathrobe of disheveled shut-ins but the regalia of drawing-rooms past, put on in place of a suit coat as soon as one came home, piped, silk-lined, tasseled… a garment whose sumptuousness could, in my mind, provide a similar, though softer, barrier as my office armor.  Why not? Noel Coward’s heroes donned them as protection from the poisonously witty barbs of his dialogue.  

In a spate of unfounded optimism I already had put aside a length of velvety Suri alpaca, and some vintage silk scarves to line it, all to send to my favorite shirtmaker after I saved up for my fantasy.  Well, nightmares cut short fantasy. I must face responsibility and confinement as they take me. Nonetheless, it was a pleasing confirmation of instinct on our first day of distancing to see my son, immediately after getting dressed, decide that his day clothes needed one finishing touch, march decisively back to his room, and select his fuzzy green robe with a dragon-headed hood, belting it with panache. Fantasy may be genetic.

Among our responsibilities, in our plaster cells, are understanding, patience, empathy, and self-restraint both physical and figurative. Remembering how taxing all of those can be, and how valuable it is to show them to someone momentarily short. Renew bonds of friendship virtually, support those in your local orbit, virtual or physical, with advances, gift card purchases, contributions to wage support. And if you exhaust all other pursuits, Dumas’ million-word oeuvre is in the public domain online. From our own cells, the Iron Mask awaits.

#rjman #reginaldjeromedemans #theironmask

[randomcitizen12]

Beyond the Firewall - Shadilver

*ping* You have a new message

The alert was enough to snap an ebony hedgehog from his thoughts and hurriedly grab his phone. It was an email from no other than the hedgehog he was meeting today for the first time

[So where are you now? I'm already at the restaurant]

-Absolute.Dreamer15

The jet black mobian smiled and sent back his own reply.

[I'm already on the bus. Just entered the city vicinity, I should be near] 

-HxllowCost19

Smiling, he put his phone back in his pocket and stuffed his hand in his jacket, leaning against the cold glass window.

It was odd, how two people who have met online are going to meet in person for the first time. He remembers how he came to know about the young hedgehog; it was on a blog, and he was merely stating his opinion about a popular band, and how that one particular song wasn't appealing to him, and immediately the young male was bashed with 'avid fans', saying that he was an immature 9 year old and should go fuck himself and die and how he doesn't know the band and should just shut up. He found it funny; how those people who claimed themselves to be mature were the ones acting childlike, whilst the other hedgehog was actually being sensible and tried to be reasonable. Note the word tried. Shadow felt bad for the young blogger and decided to send him a little message on how he shouldn't listen to the assholes who bashed him for having a different opinion on something they liked and commended him for stating his opinion on public. The other thank him for his kind words.

From then on they continued to talk to one another, and they discovered that they have so much in common; taste in music, political views, preferences, and even if they had things they couldn't agree on, they respected each other's opinion. Soon, simple messages went to a more personal level of talking, where the younger hedgehog introduced himself as Silver, and Shadow introduced himself as well. Neither of them have heard what the other sounded like, nor what they even looked like.

More talking and after a year of seeing each other online, they both decided to meet up in real life. But since Silver was only 17 and feared he'd get lost, the older hedgehog offered to go to his city instead since he recently turned 19.

*ping* You have a new message

[I took a window seat so it should be easy to find me. I'm wearing a turquoise flannel shirt]

-Absolute.Dreamer15

[You sure like the color turquoise don't you?]

-HxllowCost19

[Oh quiet you XP It's a pretty color. Are you close yet? I'm getting kinda bored sitting here, and I have already beat my 2048 highscore of 248948]

-Absolute.Dreamer15

A chuckled left the ebony male's mouth.

[Well, I could see that I'm almost near, I'm close to the next bus stop anyway. What did you say was the name of the restaurant again?]

-HxllowCost19

[Papa Louie's Pasta and Pizza. I'm excited to finally see you in person! But don't expect me to talk to you even if we have known each other for a while. Haha I'm awkward around new people]

-Absolute.Dreamer15

[But... I've known you for a year now]

-HxllowCost19

[I told you.. I'm weird]

-Absolute.Dreamer15

[Heh, don't worry about it. Oh wait, the bus just stopped, I'm getting off. I should be near then]

-HxllowCost19

Shadow placed his phone back in his pocket and got off of the bus. Taking in the sight of the city, he couldn't help but be amazed at the scenery before him; it's no wonder Soleanna is such a highly praised city! He quickly scanned for any restaurant that was named 'Papa Louie's Pasta and Pizza'. It took him a while, but when he saw the ivory boy by the window, he could've sworn his heart stopped; he was finally meeting the hedgehog who has captivated him! A smile was flashed at his direction once Silver's golden hues landed on him and was greeted with a wave through the glass window. Smiling back, the ebony male made his way into the restaurant, and there he sat in front of the younger boy.

Silver sheepishly grinned, glancing from the dark male in front to another part of the table. Knowing it was rude not to talk, he took out a piece of paper and began writing on it.

"Hey, nice to see you finally.. I told you I wouldn't talk. or. too shy to talk. Sorry about that"

He handed the paper to Shadow, his peach muzzle turning a faint pink hue. Shadow, who understood, smiled then took out a piece of paper of his own and began writing as well.

"It's okay, I understand. Do you want anything to eat? I can order for us"

"oh, no that's okay, while you were gone I already orderd ordered my food. You can order yours when the waiter comes back"

Silver grimaced at the mistake he made. Chaos did he feel anxious and his hands were shaking; Shadow was finally in front of him in person!

With this Shadow gave a small nod then began to write once more.

"How long have you been waiting? I hope it wasn't too long"

"oh no. I've just been here for 10 minutes; it's not that long of a wait"

a small smile made it's way to Silver's face.

Shadow let out a light scoff as his red pools glanced at the younger hedgehog and back at his paper to write out his answer.

~***~

Their lunch continued on like this, exchanging words through paper, a fresh change of pace to their usual digital conversation. It was also a fresh change to be able to see the one you're conversing with despite the lack of words being spoken to one another. They shared laughs and smiles throughout their meal, their words and jokes only kept between the two recipients and away from listening ears as they wrote paper after paper of replies in the restaurant. Silence accompanied them but the silence that accompanied them was comfortable, welcomed even, between the young friends.

It was Silver who broke their silence first "So, which part of Soleanna would you like to go first?" He asked in a soft, meek voice and Shadow smiled; this was how he imagined what Silver's voice would sound like; something like soft bells in the wind.

"Wherever you recommend" Was the dark hedgehog's reply.

"Oh Solaris from above; his voice is sooo much hotter than I could ever imagine!"

The ivory male squealed internally. This was it! He in now officially talking with the man who had made his life much more bearable!

And the pair went around Soleanna, sharing more stories between each other, this time with actual dialogue and even more laughter and life. Silver pulled Shadow into a small fair since the city was preparing for the Sun Festival, which the older male gladly following him. He wasn't much of an outdoor person per se, and preferred to stay away from crowded places like this. But for the ivory hedgehog, he would let himself get out of his comfort zone, and get away from his urban life, even for a while.

After all, he is visiting another city; might as well make the best out of the experience right?

"The Sun Festival will be starting in a few hours, so let's have fun until the splendid fireworks show! I can bet you my right arm you'll enjoy the show!" The silver hedgehog chirped, much to the amusement of the other.

"Bet your right arm? That's a high wager now, don't you think?" Shadow chuckled. Silver simply shook his head and grinned.

"That's how confident I am that you will enjoy the fireworks show"

   "Well then, I'm expecting that I won't be disappointed"

Silver flashed another smiled at him, and Shadow swears his heart feels like it'll leap right out of his chest whenever he sees it. He couldn't help but smile as well.

"Trust me, you won't be"

~***~

It was a few minutes until the start of the Sun Festival and Silver and Shadow were lining up to get to the Ferris wheel; Silver insisted that they'd watch from there because the main plaza would be jampacked with people and most of the roads were closed for the events, and they didn't have enough money to rent a boat to watch from the sea, so this was the next best thing.

With them, they carried the many prizes they've won through the many games and booths they've tried. Shadow was good with shooting games, Silver realized. As in really good. His accuracy was incredibly on point that it was sort of scary actually. Shadow won the big elephant stuffed toy on the top shelf, and gave it to Silver, much to the latter's embarrassment and declined.

The dark hedgehog insisted, saying that he didn't really have enough space in his house to keep a large stuff toy, and carrying something that big in the bus would be a hassle to the other commuters. Plus, he said that he wanted to give Silver a sort of souvenir to remember him by for the wonderful tour around Soleanna. This statement made the shy hedgehog's face red and cover it with the said stuffed toy.

Finally getting onto the ride, Silver sheepishly sat himself on the opposite side of Shadow. Once the Ferris wheel began it's slow ascent, the latter spoke "Well, this is it. Just five more minutes until the festival" his deep voice broke through Silver's thoughts, catching him off-guard.

"Y-yeah! Are you excited??" Silver's pitch became a bit too high

   "Is something the matter?" Shadow asked, with Silver nodding furiously

"yup yup! I'm fine as a daisy!"

Somehow, Shadow wasn't buying it.

"Tell me what's wrong; please?" Shadow's ruby orbs showed worry, and Silver couldn't say no to him; not when his crush was staring at him like that. With a sigh, he answered.

"It's just been a while since I've watched the Festival with somebody. I think I told you that I'm living alone before, yes?" When Silver saw him nodding, he continued "As I've said, both my parents are working overseas to make ends meet, and to send me to a really good school. And I want them to be proud of me and show them that their efforts aren't in vain, so I always do my best in class and try to keep my scholarship."

They were halfway through the ride now, almost getting to the top. Shadow simply hummed; Silver has told him this before.

"And I do want to help my parents earn some money too, so I have a part-time job at the town's library; cataloging books and keeping record of everything. So it's just been a while since I've had somebody to enjoy the Festival with.." Golden eyes kept their focus on the floor, as ivory arms wrapped around the stuffed animal tightly. The younger male only looked up when he felt a warm hand on his thigh, comforting him, and beautiful ruby orbs looking at him.

His face became flushed.

And Shadow gave him a warm smile "Well, you're with somebody now right? Don't worry, I'm here."

The snow-furred male returned a small smile of his own.

'Yes, you are; you've made my lonely life even more bearable. That's why I've come to love you so much'

"I'm glad you are, and I can't thank you enough for travelling all the way here from Westopolis just so you could spend some time with me" he said sheepishly. The darker male simply nodded.

'Of course. I'd gladly travel anywhere for you no matter how far; you made me feel complete, made me feel that I do matter'

"I've been meaning to get away from my mundane life; a breather such as this is exactly what I needed. Also, I've been wanting to meet you for the longest time" Shadow replied. Then Silver had a thought.

"Hey Shadow; you're really good at shooting games. Do you practice a lot at home?" He asked. Shadow merely scratched his head.

   "Well.. I have relatives that works for G.U.N, and I'm being taken as an intern there as a field agent. I get to practice using actual guns there"

   "Whaat, really?? That's so cool!!!" The younger one exclaimed, his amber eyes bright.

   "I guess; it get's hectic, but I guess it's okay"

Ivory ears perked then he looked out the window, a wide grin on his face "It's starting; look Shadow!" He said as he pointed to where the town's plaza was. From their current height they could oversee the entire town.

Ruby eyes followed and Shadow was at awe at the fireworks show; the different spectacle of lights exploding in the night sky, painting the evening sky with a plethora of colors. Music can be heard playing in the air, the bass thumbing in beat with their hearts. Cheers from the crowd echoed throughout the entire city, shaking his very core.

Soleanna is one festive city; he couldn't remember the last time Westopolis had a celebration as grand as this.

"This is about to get even better" The younger male said with a cheeky grin as the royal family arrived in a large gondola to the very heart of the city.

   "Why? what's happening?"

   "shh... Just watch"

Squinting his eyes at the other, Shadow returned his gaze to the center of the city. There was silence now, then suddenly bright, shining orange flames spread from where the royal family stood and onto a large pattern adorning the center; the shape of the sun god Solaris, illuminating throughout the city as fireworks started once more. The citizens continued with their celebration. By now they were at the very top of the Ferris wheel, giving both males the perfect view to see the fire display.

Shadow was simply at awe at the spectacle he had just witnessed.

~***~

The two hedgehog males were now heading towards the bus station, walking side by side, laughing and smiling at all the events they shared together.

"Thank you so much for the wonderful tour Silver" The darker male thanked the other as they waited for the bus, the latter flashing a sweet smile at him.

"Oh it's my pleasure Shadow! I'm just really happy I finally got to meet you in person; you didn't tell me you were this good looking" Ivory joked, but there was some truth in there, and Shadow chuckled at this "Really now? Well, you should've informed me that you were this adorable" he flirted back, making the younger male blush.

"Oh you" Silver sighed, looking into red pools "So, what do you think of Soleanna?"

   "It's absolutely beautiful here; the air is fresh and you're surrounded by the sea. Not to mention that despite being a large city, it's incredibly clean here."

   "We also actually have a forest and a desert surrounding us too! It's basically a utopia for nature lovers!" Silver continued.

Another chuckle from Shadow "And it's festive here; unlike in Westopolis"

The statement made Silver tilt his head, befuddled "You don't celebrate anything in Westopolis?" the other shook his head.

   "No; it's a big, urbanized metropolis and the air is polluted and it's too crowded. Sure, there are plenty of malls and everything, but we don't celebrate things like this. Everybody is too busy trying to get by in there"

   "oh... That's.. kinda sad actually"

Silver felt a hand pet the top of his quills and he did everything in his power not to purr, especially in front of Shadow! He opted to smile instead. "Well I hope you enjoyed the Sun Festival. You can always come again next year" he invited the older male.

"I think I might take you on that offer; it's only a two and a half hour bus ride from Westopolis to here."

   "And maybe next time I could visit you?"

This suggestion made Shadow smile "That would be nice; it'll be my turn to tour you in the hustle and bustle of the big city life"

   "I've always wanted to visit the National Museum you have there"

   "You'll like it very much; it's full of different artifacts from around the world"

From their peripheral view, the conversing hedgehogs saw the arriving bus. Both felt sad for they now had to go their separate ways.

"There's the bus" The silver hedgehog pointed out, the grip on the stuffed elephant tightening.

   "yeah..."

Silence accompanied both parties once more as they looked into each other's eyes. The bus had arrived now, and the doors opened. Shadow being the one to break their silence this time.

"Again, thanks so much. I'll chat with you later?" He saw Silver's sweet smile once more and his beautiful amber eyes bright

   "Chat ya later!"

Before going in the vehicle, Shadow leaned in and gave a kiss on Silver's cheek, smiling at the other's reaction when he saw the surprised look on Silver's sweet face, and covering his blush with the stuffed elephant. "I'll see you soon Silver" then he turned, climbing up the steps on the bus.

And, to Shadow's surprise (and much to his delight), soft lips returned the kiss on his cheeks as well, and light giggling reached his ears. He looked back to see the ivory male beaming at him as pink dusted his face, waving his hand "Bye Shadow!"

The ebony hedgehog held a hand to where soft lips once were, a lovestruck look on his face as he had a goofy smile and waved back, keeping his eyes on the ivory beauty until he was too far away now, before finally taking his seat.

*ping* You have a new message

[You're such a tease you know that?]

-Absolute.Dreamer15

Shadow couldn't help but smile at this.

[Think of it as a souvenir from me to you. You're a tease yourself, surprising me like that]

-HxllowCost19

[Just think of it as a souvenir from me to you XP]

-Absolute.Dreamer15

Relaxing onto the seat, Shadow sent his reply.

[By the way, your lips are super soft ]

-HxllowCost19

He didn't get a reply back; he assumed that the other was too embarrassed. Chuckling, he put his phone back in his pocket. The jet black mobian still has two hours to go before arriving at Westopolis; he'd probably use that time to daydream about the events of today... and replay that kiss in his head over and over again.

#my art #fanfic #shadilver #silver the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog

[technicallyoneofakind]

True Intent

Author's Note:

Hi, everyone! I decided to write about Swaine and Oliver's relationship as friends. Cause next to Marcassin, Oliver's my favorite guy to write about getting into shenanigans with the thief. Part of this may be because of Wherever Girl's Like A Brother fic. (You're welcome for the shameless advertising, WG.)

Disclaimer: If you seriously think I own any rights to anything involving this game you need to get your head checked. I don't. I don't think I ever will.

~.~.~

Of all the places to set up camp, the Miasma Marshes were the worst. It felt like everything, even the trees, were out for blood. Hence, why they slept in shifts- two of them on guard duty while the other two slept. Drippy and Esther called the second shift, leaving Oliver and the thief on first.

"Hey, why do I have to get first shift," Swaine complained, not wanting to have to look out at the creepy marsh anymore than he had to. He stepped back suddenly when he received a tired glare from the familiar tamer- a glare that almost put the swamp's nature to shame. "I mean, wouldn't it be better if the fairy was on first shift? It'll get dark soon and he can sense things better than I ever-!"

A loud snore broke his argument down as his attention swiftly diverted to the lantern adorned fairy who had quickly fallen into a deep sleep on the ground. He slapped his forehead, throwing his head back with an aggravated groan. "Fine," he snapped softly. He walked off a couple feet from the others, looking into the forest they had just come from.

Esther, glad to not have to argue with the man, quickly turned in and snuggled down into her sleeping bag near the fire. The wood didn't come from the marshes, but from elsewhere in the world. The four weren't even sure if wood from this place would even light.

The young wizard took a seat near the thief, looking out into the depths of the swamp as well. They sat for quite a while in silent contemplation, listening to the foreboding sounds natural to this place and this place alone.

At first, when they entered, each sound had made everyone jump a little. Even the Tombstone trail, as dreary as it was, wasn't as dark and ominous as the marshes. After a day or so of traveling, though, it wasn't as bad. Nevertheless, it was still a little creepy.

The wizard glanced up at his older friend and noticed that he seemed a bit on edge. He began to doubt if his friend would get any sleep even if he had taken second shift. As usual, Swaine played his part reluctantly.

Oliver, alone with his thoughts despite keeping the thief in a silent company, began to reflect on their journey together. Yeah, Esther was the first person to join him on his quest to face Shadar and save his mother, but when things got tough- and they often did- he found himself relying on Swaine more and more. At first, he wasn't sure when he met him- his nonchalant and bitter attitude, as well as his preferred profession were definitely obstacles- but the man was just as dependable as Esther.

Why did he stick around after everything in Hamelin, though? He had made it home. That was his end goal, wasn't it? He complained time and time again before they entered dangerous territory, but his cowardly side comments never showed in his fighting- he gave it his all, usually.

Oliver looked up again at Swaine, who was now nervously looking from side to side. He decided to take the thief's mind off of his paranoia a little. He worried it would affect him if a real threat exposed itself. "Hey, Swaine?"

The thief suddenly looked down at the young wizard, jumping at the sudden sound. "Oh! Oliver, don't do that," he quietly exclaimed. "What is it?"

"I was wondering. Why didn't you stay in Hamelin?"

That was not the way Swaine expected to be caught off guard that night. He shot a puzzled look at his young friend. "What do you mean? We've got to beat Shadar, don't we? Why would I stay in Hamelin if the world was at stake," he half-joked, letting out a nervous chuckle.

Oliver looked down for a moment. The man could have left anytime he wanted after that, though. He would have understood if he did. No normal sane person would have stayed. "But when we entered the Glittering Grotto and the Vault of Tears… You could have left if you wanted-"

The thief shot him a glare he'd never seen before. It seemed all the nervous energy vanished. "I wasn't about to let the lot of you just go in alone- by yourselves."

Oliver observed as his friend looked back out into the dense marshland and then look back to Esther and the fairy. "And, in any case…" He looked back and down to his lap where he was holding his Rogue’s Revolver.

"The kingdoms being sorted is only a temporary fix. I'm not about to let that bastard get away with what he's done."

So, it was a vindictive cause. Are we just means to an end? The young wizard thought as he looked up in shock at the thief. Was he just helping them, so he could get closer to Shadar? Was that why his fighting was so good despite his complaints?

Swaine must have noticed the betrayed look in Oliver's eyes. His expression immediately softened when he looked at the boy. The thief shook his head and sighed. "Don't get me wrong, Oliver. Revenge is one of the reasons I even bothered, but… it isn't the only reason I stick with you lot. There's something special about our little group I just can't place," he admitted, running his free hand over the muzzle of his gun.

The thief leaned back, releasing his grip on his main weapon to brace himself with his arms. He looked at the hazy sky. "Yes, the Glittering Grotto may have been freezing and the Vault of Tears a bit creepy, but despite wanting to bow out and run away, you needed me."

Oliver looked back out at the woods. "So… we're not just tools for your revenge," he asked hesitantly. He received a baffled look.

"The hell, Oliver? What kind of question is that? 'Tools for my revenge…' When you put it like that, you make me sound like some manipulative mastermind." He shook his head, grabbed his gun, and stood up. He looked down at the young wizard who now seemed to be reconsidering his word choice.

Before Oliver knew it, Swaine was pulling him off the ground to stand up. "Let me get one thing straight. If anything happened to you, Esther, or even the blasted fairy, I don't know what I'd do," he stated, staring the wizard straight in the eye. He let go, almost shoving the boy as he turned away.

A couple of long quiet seconds drifted by.

Swaine began quietly, "I haven't been truly wanted or depended on for fifteen years, Oliver. Most people wouldn't've given me a second thought. You…" He looked back at his friend. "I don't know what would have happened if you didn't come along."

Another long silent moment passed before the thief sat back at his post again. It gave the wizard time to rethink his friend's motives. He sat back down next to the man, this time not sensing any of the paranoid agitation from before. All Oliver sensed was the hurt look on his friend's face. He almost felt guilty. He looked back to the thief who had taken to rhythmically tapping the handgun on his knee.

"Sorry, Swaine, for doubting you," The young wizard apologized. He didn't receive any vocal acceptance, but the hurt look on Swaine's face had shifted to a more neutral one. "…And thank you for your help. I really appreciate it." Oliver didn't look back to his friend after that, letting the subject drop.

The thief smirked, taking a small glance at his friend before replacing his focus on the woods. There were still many trials for their little group to face.

~.~.~

A/N:

So, this one's based on a recurring issue I have found: Swaine complains like a coward, but his actions don't match. Think about it, he gripes about the Vault of Tears being creepy and the Glittering Grotto being too cold, but the guy doesn't turn around and say, "Nope, I'm out!" I could make this argument with the Fairygrounds, too. He could have just waited out the nonsense down below, but he's intent on sticking with the group.

My thoughts are that, by the time after everything's done in Hamelin, he grew quite attached. In fact, when you meet Myrtle again later, he claims to be put in charge of Oliver and Esther like an older brother or guardian. He's kind of assigned himself the responsibility of watching the two.

It's so conflicting that I'm surprised no one called Swaine out on this in the actual dialogue of the game.

Anyway, review. I'd like to hear your thoughts.

#Swaine #Doing that big brother thing again #I'll never understand why people think he's a complete jerk #He's not a coward either #Not in the literal sense of the word #The team is family #Don't hurt his family #Oliver #Ni No Kuni #Ni no Kuni Wrath of the White Witch