#i researched so much deep spider lore for this part and used 1% of it

[verkja]

Pt. 3

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In this section, Radomil starts to like his companions and immediately regrets it.

CWs: Injury, spiders, sickness, depression, animal injury, discussion of animal abuse (which does not occur), discussion of violence (which does not occur)... pre-TSD? This is SFW. Please let me know if I missed anything. Chapter summaries here.

Words: About 3K

Things had been different for the mercenary group ever since the canyon battle. The changes were subtle, but Radomil noticed them more and more as the days passed. It seemed as if the group had come together, minor disagreements smoothed over by the memory of the experiences they’d shared.

His rib was recovering well. It had been a clean break, and Rhedyn’s quick treatment made sure it would heal neatly. Herve and Aure had split the contents of Radomil’s pack between them so he didn’t need to carry anything while he healed.

Despite the sunny weather and the group’s improved relations, though, Radomil felt terrible. At times, getting out of his bedroll and pulling on his boots in the morning seemed to take more effort than any battle. His dream - the same one every night - lingered in the back of his mind, which it always did to some extent, but lately it was harder to ignore. Talking to his fellow mercenaries grew more difficult too.

He knew why. The evening after the canyon battle, the company had sat around the campfire and celebrated their victory. His stunt with the dragon came up, of course; the others were highly impressed by it. Radomil had thought it rather well-done too. His satisfaction turned to something far less pleasant, though, when Rhedyn enthused that the deed would make a great ballad.

It had sounded so much like something his old companions would have said - something Catha would have said, specifically - that it replaced every trace of contentment with an aching, hollow sadness. He’d excused himself shortly afterward and gone to his bedroll, where he’d played some of the songs he used to play in the old days until he fell asleep.

Since then, Radomil had withdrawn somewhat from the rest of the group. Whenever they stopped to camp, he went off alone to work on his rune book or, once his rib had healed a bit, practise forms with his sword at quarter-speed. The others mostly left him to it. Since his relationships with them had already been fairly distant, perhaps they didn’t notice a difference.

The landscape around them shifted from granite cliffs to broken hills of granite and sandstone scattered across reddish scrubland. Fewer bandits and raiders accosted them here - the open terrain was a poor setting for ambushes - but Radomil wished they were back in the mountains. This scenery was too much like the barren waste he saw in his dream.

The decreased tension in the group meant he didn’t worry much about infighting anymore, at least. In fact, there had been no physical altercations during the two weeks since the canyon battle. The other mercenaries were in high spirits, except for Mures, but even he had been uncharacteristically quiet and courteous lately.

The sorcerer had been acting strange in other ways as well. While practising sword forms, Radomil sometimes saw him watching, mismatched eyes following the spellsword’s movements with keen attention, expression difficult to read.

It had concerned Radomil a little at first, but Mures never bothered him or even spoke to him while he exercised. After a while he began to expect and even appreciate it; practising with his sword could all too easily pull him into memories he didn’t want to think about, and Mures’ quiet presence helped distract him. When the sorcerer failed to appear one day, he found himself wondering why.

He brushed reddish dust off his sword and put it away after finishing the last form. His rib ached, but not to a point that made him worried about it. Still, he headed back to the centre of camp for chamomile ointment to bring down any swelling.

It was early evening; the company had decided to end their day near a large sandstone outcrop instead of starting the trek across the long stretch of open land ahead. The wind could be vicious here, and hollows carved in the stone by blowing sand provided some shelter. Iesto had gathered some twisted branches and brushwood for a fire, but hadn’t yet lit it; the sun was still well above the horizon.

The scout was re-fletching a few arrows while the two warriors sparred a little ways outside the camp. Rhedyn was crushing something or other in her mortar and pestle. The sorcerer was nowhere to be seen.

Radomil found the chamomile ointment and eased off his shirt to apply it. The weather was currently warm and sunny, though he knew it would rapidly cool as the sun went down. He slung the shirt over his shoulder and, after a brief hesitation, walked over to Iesto.

‘Have you seen Mures anywhere?’ he asked, and realised his voice was rusty with disuse.

‘No, not for a while. Why? Did he do something?’

‘Hm? Oh, no.’ Radomil shrugged. ‘Just wondering.’

Iesto nodded. ‘You’ve been kind of scarce lately - I thought he might’ve been causing trouble for you.’

He hadn’t thought anyone had noticed, and was momentarily touched before a tide of memory rushed in - You’ve been quiet lately, Radomil; dream getting you down? You know we’ll find a way to handle it - and the warm feeling in his chest burned down to ash.

‘No,’ he replied. ‘I’ve just been distracted.’

He headed out of camp and around the sandstone crag. It was quite large, and he walked for several minutes before spotting a dark figure leaning against the dusty stone. The sorcerer was facing away from him and seemed to be fiddling with something small.

A pebble, knocked to the side by Radomil’s boot, clacked off the side of the crag. Mures’ shoulders jerked and he spun around, one hand flying behind his back. He looked distinctly unwell; his forehead was covered with sweat and he propped himself against the sandstone with a shaking hand.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked tersely.

‘Looking for you,’ said Radomil. ‘What are you doing here?’

He didn’t share his companions’ distrust of the sorcerer - despite his hostility, Mures had never actually done anything against the interests of the group - but the man certainly looked like he was trying to hide something.

‘Ah,’ said Mures, narrowing his eyes, ‘since you took your little ride on the dragon, I suppose you think you can just tell the rest of us what to do - expect us to tell you anything you please.’

‘What? Of course not.’

‘Just me, then, is it? I can’t say I’m surprised; all you self-righteous glory-seekers are the same in the end.’ He gave Radomil what was probably meant to be a smirk, but turned out more like a grimace. Sweat poured down his face. ‘Well, by all means. Convince me I should listen to you.’

He spread his hands. Radomil noticed that he was still standing fixed in place, swaying slightly.

‘Are you... trying to get me to fight you?’ he asked. This whole situation was strange. Mures didn’t deliberately provoke the other mercenaries so much as he simply didn’t use any tact, and refused to apologise for anything; Radomil hadn’t seen him deliberately initiate a single fight.

‘If I am, are you going to back down?’ His tone was mocking.

Under other circumstances, Radomil would have just returned to camp. Now, though, he was becoming increasingly concerned about Mures’ intentions, and also about the sorcerer’s health. He’d placed a hand back on the crag, carefully casual, but his fingertips were white as he leaned on them.

‘I don’t intend to fight you,’ Radomil said, choosing his words and tone with care. ‘I saw you holding something earlier and wondered what it was. If it’s something private, fine, but you don’t look well and I’m worried about you.’

The sorcerer made a disbelieving noise. He didn’t continue goading Radomil, though, and when the other mercenary took a step closer, he just swallowed and leaned back slightly.

Radomil raised an eyebrow at him and then quickly stepped to the side. He saw a glass jar holding some kind of insect on the small ledge behind Mures before the sorcerer got in his way again.

‘What’ve you got in there?’ he asked.

Mures glared at him, but he looked more nervous than angry. ‘It’s a spider, and none of your business.’

‘Why do you have a spider in a jar?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It might.’ The idea that Mures might try to harm one of them with a venomous spider, perhaps in their sleep, seemed unlikely; however, he couldn’t think of any benevolent reason for him to be so shifty about it. He sidestepped again and reached towards the jar.

The sorcerer grabbed his wrist before he could touch it. He turned to face the other man. This close, he could hear Mures’ shallow breathing and feel his hand shaking on Radomil’s arm. He didn’t look hostile anymore; in fact, he looked very upset.

‘Don’t hurt it,’ he said. ‘It’s not - I’ll keep it in the jar. It can’t move much anyway.’

‘What?’ Radomil pulled the sorcerer’s bony fingers off his arm and lifted the jar.

The golden-brown spider inside it had only three legs. It was crouched against the back wall, next to a twig and part of a dead fly. There was a droplet of water clinging to the twig, and a few holes were punched in the lid of the jar.

‘Why do you have this?’ he asked with a frown, adding, ‘I won’t hurt it,’ upon seeing Mures’ expression.

‘...I stepped on it while I was looking around earlier,’ the sorcerer told him. ‘It must have been missing legs already if it didn’t get out of the way. This species is very intelligent - it’s definitely aware of what’s happening to it.’’

‘Right.’ Radomil gently placed the jar back on the ledge. ‘Why are you sweating so much?’

Mures gazed at him, the distress slowly fading from his expression to be replaced by a sort of confused caution. ‘It bit me,’ he said eventually.

‘Oh. Well, do you need something for it? Want me to get Rhedyn?’

He shook his head. ‘No - it’s not lethal. It’ll just make me sick for the next few hours.’

‘Right.’ Radomil stepped back, suddenly realising how close he’d been standing. ‘Sorry. I thought you might -’

‘Quite reasonably,’ Mures said. His voice was a little hoarse. ‘Er. Thank you.’

Radomil waved a hand. ‘Nothing to thank me for. I wouldn’t hurt your spider. What kind of a person do you think I am?’

The sorcerer hesitated before twitching his shoulders in a stiff shrug. ‘Regardless.’

Radomil gave him a faint smile. He was surprised by the source of his companion’s behaviour, but pleasantly so. This was the first time he’d seen anything to suggest that Mures cared about something other than himself, but it went well beyond what he’d have expected even of one of the others.

He sat down against the crag; the sandstone was comfortably warm against his back. ‘Were you trying to distract me by getting me to hit you?’ he asked.

Mures looked down at him blankly. ‘Perhaps,’ he said eventually.

‘That was extraordinarily kind of you.’

Mures gave a short, awkward laugh.

‘I’m serious,’ Radomil told him.

He shook his head, looking vaguely incredulous and still quite ill. After a while, he sat down beside the spellsword, maybe an arm’s length away.

‘Why did you come out here?’

‘I noticed you weren’t around camp,’ Radomil answered. He thought about explaining how the other man’s presence had helped keep his mind off his memories, but decided against it. That would be more intimate than he really wanted to be with anyone in the company. Admittedly, this conversation was already longer and hence more intimate than he wanted, but he was curious about Mures.

‘So, what are you planning to do with the spider?’ he asked. ‘I assume it can’t survive on its own with just three legs. Are you just going to keep it?’

‘No; it’s young. The legs should regrow over its next few moults.’

‘Huh. And you knew how venomous it was, and how intelligent - why do you know so much about spiders?’

‘Why does it matter?’ Mures sounded as though he couldn’t decide whether to be suspicious or confused.

‘It doesn’t, I suppose. Just making conversation.’

‘...and why would you want to do that?’

‘To pass the time. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. We can just sit here.’

They did so for the next few minutes. On one side of the crag, the sun was beginning to set; lines of bright pink and orange stretched across the sky.

‘Why are you still here?’ the sorcerer asked eventually.

‘Thought I’d keep you company.’

There was another long pause.

‘Spiders are often involved in dark magic,’ Mures said after a while, ‘as symbols or familiars or components.’

‘Ah. Have any plans for this spider?’

‘No; I’m not working on anything that would require it, and I’d use a less intelligent species anyway. Radomil -’

‘Hm?’ the mercenary prompted when he didn’t go on.

‘Why are you keeping me company?’

‘I thought you wouldn’t want to go back to camp until the venom’s effects subside. We may not have seen many dangers out here yet, but you can’t be sure. Can’t imagine you’d have an easy time casting while you feel like this.’

Conversation could also provide a distraction from sickness and pain, but he had the feeling that saying as much wouldn’t go over well. Though Mures was being unusually civil, he seemed very wary. Radomil thought the sorcerer probably would have left a while ago if he’d felt up to it.

‘You have a broken rib.’

‘Sure, but it doesn’t interfere with using magic.’ Radomil traced a rune in the sand and set it glowing as a demonstration. ‘I rely on that more than my sword anyway.’

‘Yes, I noticed. I thought you only carried a sword as a backup at first, but you seem to know what you’re doing with it.’

‘Thanks. It’s easier to disable opponents with spells rather than kill them; doing that with a sword is much more of a challenge.’

‘You prefer not to kill people?’

‘When possible.’

‘You’re a mercenary.’

‘I’m paid to solve problems, not specifically to kill people. Well - most of the time. If I can solve things non-lethally, so much the better.’

Mures looked unconvinced.

‘Look,’ said Radomil, ‘we’re all going to die someday. That makes every second incredibly valuable, right? Because your time is limited. Robbing someone of that time is the worst kind of theft.’

They sat in thoughtful silence as the sun dropped towards the distant mountains. Beside them, the spider drank some of its water droplet and settled in the front of the jar.

‘Think it’s watching the sunset as well?’ Radomil asked, grinning. It did look oddly attentive.

The sorcerer glanced at him and then at the spider. After a moment, he gave a very small, surprised smile. It was crooked, and only lasted a second, and didn’t seem at home on his thin lips.

‘Maybe,’ he said.

The last traces of the sun’s fiery rim sank below the horizon. The air grew rapidly colder as the light faded, and Radomil shivered. Looking over at his companion, he saw that Mures seemed less unwell than he had earlier.

‘Feeling better?’ he asked.

The sorcerer nodded. Radomil stood up, wincing when his rib complained at the movement. He turned to offer a hand to Mures, but the other man was already upright. He had picked up the spider jar and was gazing at it with mild concern.

‘You might want to keep that hidden,’ the spellsword noted. ‘I know Herve, at least, isn’t fond of spiders.’

‘Yes, but I don’t want it getting knocked around in my pocket,’ said Mures.

‘Give it here; I’ll wrap it in my shirt,’ Radomil offered.

The sorcerer pulled the jar closer to his chest in a seemingly unconscious movement. He hesitated.

‘I won’t do anything bad to it - you have my word on that. I’ll give it back as soon as you’ve set up for the night.’

Very, very cautiously, with a carefully blank expression, Mures offered him the jar. The spellsword gave him a reassuring smile and took it, folding his shirt into a bag that would keep it upright. They set off back to camp at a relaxed pace.

The rest of the company was gathered around the fire when they arrived, so it was quite easy after all to conceal the spider jar by Mures’ bedroll. As Radomil pulled his shirt back on and turned towards the fire, the sorcerer cleared his throat.

‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for your help with this. And for - well -’

‘No problem.’

‘I will pay you back, you know. I’m not - what I mean is, I won’t give you cause to regret it.’

‘Sure; you can buy me an ale when we reach town.’

‘I already owe you an ale.’

Radomil shrugged. ‘Two ales, then.’

His good mood, a result of the surprisingly pleasant evening with Mures, lasted until he retired to his bedroll after eating. Then reality caught up with him, as he’d known it would.

Radomil pressed his palms against his temples. He hadn’t anticipated this, because Mures was usually so unpleasant, but he was definitely feeling some level of fondness. That was - not what he wanted.

He wished the cool numbness he’d felt before the dragon incident would return. It was so much easier than this blend of warmth and dreadful presentiment, the feeling of impending doom hanging over every friendly moment. He didn’t want to go to sleep.

He didn’t want to, but if he didn’t, the journey tomorrow would just be more difficult. Staying awake would solve nothing in the long run. Letting out a long breath and trying very hard to think of nothing, Radomil lay down and shut his eyes.

#constantly fighting the urge to spend paragraphs describing a sunset in what is meant to be a whump story #i researched so much deep spider lore for this part and used 1% of it #whump #whump writing #my writing #emotional whump #cw:depression #cw:injury #cw:bugs #cw:spiders #cw:animal injury #cw:sickness #fantasy whump #medieval whump

[imaginethemultiversedoms]

Animal Instincts Pt 1

Fandom: The Flash

Rating: G

Summary: Barry’s younger sister was also hit by particle accelerator explosion while helping take care of the animals at the animal preserve. Now, she has the ability to communicate with any animal.

A/N: This was an idea that has been playing about my brain for a while. I’m not sure how many parts this will have, but I love the idea of a meta having a connection with animals. This is also going to be in third person and the OC is named.

A year and half ago…

    "Animal symbolism is prevalent throughout many of the world's cultures. While some are revered as sacred symbols, others are seen as mischievous and cunning, bringing chaos wherever they go. The Coyote is one such animal that is a trickster in Native American lore, though the Raven, Crow, Spider, Blue jay, Rabbit, and Bear among others have appeared in similar trickster lore in some tribes. One animal can mean different things to different groups. While Malaysians said monkeys possessed artistic abilities and introduced writing and sculpture, Chinese legends state they perform brave deeds..."

    "Hey, whatcha up too?" Ava startled as her older brother, Barry, leaned over the back of her chair at Jitters, quickly reading the article she was studying. "Animals in mythology? Interesting. What's it for?"

    "A small assignment in my animal behavior class. We got to talking about how certain animals behave and how it correlates with how they are perceived in different cultures. While there are differences, some animals are portrayed the same way in different myths and lore. The assignment is to prove whether this is due to how humans have observed animal behavior in the wild, either by hunting or just observing," she answered quickly, barely sparing her brother a glance as she wrote down a couple notes. She did steal a small peek and smirked at the impressed look he was giving her.

    "I didn't realize how interesting animal behavior really was," Barry replied. She shrugged and smiled humbly.

    "Mr. Baxter likes to think outside the box on occasion."

    "Sounds like you have an awesome teacher, Ava."

    "He really is. Hey you going to that particle accelerator thing with Iris tonight?"

    "Nah, it's not really her thing." Ava couldn't help but hear the disappointment in his voice; her brother had been in love with Iris since childhood. Barry was her favorite person in the entire world aside from Joe and Iris. It was hard watching him pine after someone who was oblivious to what was right in front of them the whole time. "You want to come?"

     "I would, but I already promised Diane I would help feed. After Mark fired Jack for drinking on the job and harassing the animals, we've been short-staffed at the preserve. Sorry."

     "No problem. I'll take lots of pictures to show you later. Bye, Short-stack." He kissed her cheek as he grabbed his things. 

   "Love you, Sasquatch," she teased, grinning at her brother. Even though there was a four-year difference, the two of them were always close, practically in each other's back pockets. Ava didn't know what she would do without him. Having lost their mother and their father go away for murdering her at the tender age of six, she didn't want to even consider the thought of not having Barry at her back, protecting her as only big brothers could. He was her hero, best friend, and confidant all rolled into one giant pain-in-the-ass package she couldn't live without. The world just seemed darker without Barry Allen in it.

    After a bit more research, Ava packed up your things and headed out to the rescue preserve she volunteered at. Hopefully, in about two years’ time, she would be graduating with both a Computer Science degree and Veterinary Technician, both of which would be used at the preserve she loved so dearly. The owners/managers, Mark and Diane, rescued domestic and exotic animals from situations such as abandonment, neglect, etc. It was also a rehab center for animals that were brought in injured or blown in from storms. It happened quite often during tornado season. 

    Ava and Diane worked seamlessly in tandem, feeding and cleaning up after the big cats, horses, llamas, birds of prey, macaws, African Grays, foxes, snakes, and the huge tortoise Diane lovingly nicknamed "Crush" from Finding Nemo. It was dark when both finished. Ava were going through the final check when a large explosion echoed in the distance. Looking up, she was shocked and frightened to see a mushroom-shaped gold halo surrounding the middle of Central City...right where STAR Labs was. The particle accelerator was exploding and the effects were catapulting across the city. Soon, it would hit the preserve. 

    Ahead of her, Diane was already screaming for the employees to head inside for the tornado bunker. "AVA, COME ON!!" She bolted for the entrance. About halfway there, a tall figure bounded out of nowhere and shoved violently aside. Ava hit the side of the tiger enclosure with enough force to knock the wind out of her. Dazed and crumpled on the ground, she caught a hazy glimpse of a man bounding for the bunker. It was Jack Morgan; the guy Mark had fired two days prior. She wasn’t sure why he was back and right now it didn't matter; she needed to get inside. Dazedly getting to her feet, she stumbled a few steps before crashing to the ground. Ahead, she heard Diane screaming, Jack shouting, and then the worst sound you ever hear: the bunker door locking shut. Jack had forced his way inside, possibly hurt Diane, and shutting Ava outside. 

    Bastard, Ava thought. Looking up, she saw the gold halo of dark matter hurtling towards her, making impact in possibly five seconds. "Barry, Dads, Iris, I love you," she whispered, tears streaming. She barely had time to curl into the fetal position when the dark matter hit. 

    The world turned gold, then red, then white with pain. There was screaming all around: the tigers, the horses, the foxes, the wolves, hell even Nemo was somehow screaming. She could barely hear herself screaming with all the panic and chaos. Then, the roars and the screams and the whinnies turned into a cacophony of panicked voices, all screaming nonsense and words all at the same time. Her head was exploding with so much pain, she barely registered the panicked animals escaping. Gates busted open, fences came down, hooves stampeded, wolves howled, and a tiger roared a challenge from above. 

    Before Ava fully lost consciousness, she heard a deep, regal voice shout, "LEAVE THE CUB BE!" 

Present Day...

    A falcon soared across the dark skyline of Central City. It dodged around the skyscrapers, gracefully catching the air currents that blessed it with its unhindered freedom. Flapping a couple times, it looked around and caught sight of a few pigeons roosting on a nearby ledge. Gleefully, it tucked its wings and dove for the small flock, catching a current back up above the skyline as the smaller birds scattered, squawking angrily. Settling into the last leg of its flight, it peered back down at the ground. It caught sight of the red blur that had been so prominent the past three months. It belonged to a meta-human named by various bloggers and conspiracy theorists, The Flash. The Flash was a speedster, one of the first meta-humans of many to come out of the particle accelerator explosion nearly a year ago. There had been a few others who used their powers to create trouble, but The Flash was only one able to take them out and protect the city. Of course, those same metas were never heard from again, so anyone who was affected and not evil were keeping quiet, afraid of the retribution that might rain down. 

   Mentally shaking the dark thoughts from its head, the falcon caught a warm updraft and turned south. Within minutes, the falcon caught sight of a clearing, bordering a chain link fence. In the middle of the clearing sat a young woman, legs crossed and hands resting over her knees. The falcon tilted his wings back and dropped with a screech. He landed in front of her as she opened her eyes with a smile, easily pulling her consciousness back into herself.

   "Did you enjoy the flight with me?" a soft, melodic, male voice echoed in Ava’s mind.

    "I did. Thank you for allowing me to fly with you, Regan."  Ava stretched the stiffness from her back and legs; she and Regan, an American Kestrel Falcon, had been flying for close to three hours, the longest she had ever gone from her body. "I think it’s about dinner time now, if you would like to return."

    "Will there be any of those nice fat rats again? Seemed a shame to waste them on the snakes." Ava snorted as she allowed the falcon to hop onto her shoulder.

    "I'll see what I can do." Silently, the two of them walked back to the preserve. Dropping Regan off at his enclosure with the promise to bring him something special, Ava headed towards the building. A lot had changed in the year and half since the explosion. When the dark matter hit her that night, she was given abilities she only read in myths and fantasy books. While she hardly remembered anything that happened that night, Mark and Diane said they'd found her in the tiger enclosure with the breeding pair protecting her. It had taken some coaxing, but Chakrii, the male, had allowed Diane to get Ava and take her to the hospital. It wasn't until a few days later, what she thought was a hallucination from the concussion was the ability to understand animal language. A few months later, while her older brother was still in a coma from getting struck by lightning that same night, she realized she could also enter an animal's consciousness to use their eyes and ears. Mark and Diane, bless them, had taken the changes in stride and allowed the preserve to be a haven to explore her new "talents". And if it improved the wellbeing and happiness of the animals, well then, that was a perk.

    Ava told Iris after Barry had woken up. She handled the news with her usual grace, quickly becoming your confidant and the person to keep you grounded. But when other metas started popping up and causing trouble, she froze at the notion of telling Joe and Barry. What were she supposed to say? "Hey Barry, so I got hit with the same matter and even though you didn't get any abilities, your little sister can talk to her favorite animals now?" Yeah, that would go over well. For now, it was better to let things flow.

    She quickly got started on the feeding routine, checking in with the animals as she went. Regan got his special treat - a live rat she had managed to negotiate the boa constrictor in the reptile house out of - and were getting ready to go home when she saw Iris talking to Diane. "Hey Iris!" Ava called out, hugging her foster sister. "How was your first day as a big-time journalist?" 

    "Nerve-wracking honestly, but it went well," she replied. "You want a ride home?" Ava nodded, grabbing her backpack and clocking out. Both girls chatted about each other's day, Iris telling Ava everything about her new job as she drove. About halfway to the house, the conversation eased into familiar territory.

    "So, Diane told me you were at the clearing for three hours today."

    "Regan was due to stretch his wings after that hit he took. He allowed me to tag along and we flew over the city for a bit. His wing is fully healed. He should be able to be released soon enough," she answered, fiddling with a hole in your jeans. 

    "You know at some point you're going to have to tell Dad and Barry," Iris said softly, turning onto the street. Ava sighed, leaning your head against back against the seat. This was an old argument that wasn't even an argument. It was more of a disagreement of how stubborn they were being. She knew she had to come clean about this. There were aspects of her powers she didn't understand, such as how she could talk to the animals in the first place and how far her powers could even go. But she was scared at how her family, more importantly Barry, would react to their baby being a meta. She wanted to remain as Ava in their eyes: stubborn, energetic, and mischievous with a restlessness and independence that ran for miles. She was Barry's baby sister. It would crush her to see the pain and fear in their eyes. 

    She also knew that deeper part of her, a part connected directly to her powers, was uneasy at the idea of telling. They might shackle her, out of fear and over-protection, and not let her fly anymore. Oh, how she loved to soar. 

    "How? You know Barry's new friends work at STAR Labs, the whole origin point of all this. And they work with The Flash. How am I supposed to tell them about this?"

    "They could help you better understand what is going on!"

    "Or they could try to cure me of it. Or lock me away wherever they've got those other metas. Don't lie and say you haven't thought of that."

    "Okay, I have, but this is Barry we're talking about. Your big brother. You two have been in each other's back pockets for as long as I can remember! He's not going to let anything like that happen to you!" Ava sighed and stared out the window, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. The car turned into the driveway and stopped, though the engine continued to idle. Iris reached over and took one of her hands, squeezing gently. "Ava, talk to me, what is going on?"

    "I don't want to lose this, Iris. This power...this gift. Being able to finally soar above the clouds, above the skyline, it's the best feeling in the world. I can't fully describe it and I know that I don't want to lose it. This is who I am. I can't lose that, Iris." After a moment, Iris reached over and drew Ava into a tight hug. She hugged her back tightly.

    "You won't, Ava. I'll make sure of it, even if I have to go and yell at Wells and his team myself." Ava chuckled at that, already feeling better about it. 

    "You are the best sister I could have ever asked for, you know that, right?" her voice muffled slightly. 

    "So are you," Iris replied, smiling. Both glimpsed the curtain in the window moving and knew they needed to head inside before questions were asked. "Come on. Dad said he was making lasagna. After dinner, we can go upstairs and watch a movie. Your tips look like they could use a refresher." She tugged at her blue tips cheerfully.

    "Cool. Legally Blonde?" Ava asked.

    "I was thinking of The Mummy Trilogy."

    "Brendan Fraser kicking mummy ass? Even better." Both got out and headed towards the front door. Hooking an arm around hers, Ava leaned her head-on Iris’ shoulder. "Thanks Iris."

    "Anytime." 

#the flash #the flash imagines #the flash fanfiction #sister!reader #barry allen #barry allen x oc #animal instinct series