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whirlybirbs · 3 years

Note

GIVE US HOWZER? ANYTHING? PLEASE?

PROMISED ; captain howzer / reader

summary: and that was the moment hera realized you and the captain are definitely more than co-workers.

pairing: captain howzer / twi'lek!reader

a/n: this is most hera-centric but god i love her. here's some tender howzer content because we all know he loves strong women. referenced this ryl dictionary for some little bits and pieces! also, this beautiful gif is by @e-zra, from this gifset of howzer.

Moments of peace were rare nowadays.

Hera Syndulla seemed to see to it that they were even rarer.

"Hera..."

Your uttered complaint does little to satiate the young girl — that, you suppose, is Chem's side of her soul. Though her mother, Eleni, held a dash of mischief in her own heart, you'd come to realize that most of Hera's quirks were born from her father's influence.

She was headstrong; and when she wanted something, she got it.

Like now, when she's dragging you from the celebratory dinner, excusing you both. It wasn't as if you had any stake in staying. After all, Howzer had excused himself from the meal before it even began. Something about a debrief.

All the time to celebrate when the war is won, General.

Hera's hand is tight around your own as she drags you away from your more... political duties — and you're almost thankful.

Almost.

"Where are we going, lia’ry," the fond Ryl nickname for the girl rolls off your tongue as your lekku swat in irritation, "You're going to rip my arm off—"

"You have to show me," she babbles, out of breath as she drags you down the newly reclaimed corridors of the palace, "You promised—"

"Not during dinner—"

Hera suddenly stops dead in her tracks; a look of pure irritation sweeps across her face as she prods you in the stomach. Her own lekku have gone rigid, lips pulled into a pout.

"You've been gone for weeks, Alema!" she nearly shouts, looking as if she's about to be five again and stomp her feet.

You tsk, bending down. "Hera, you know I had no choice."

You didn't — no, you'd been by Chem's side for the last cycle, pushing back the occupation with success that has granted you this stay in the Southern Province. The palace, once home to the region's ruling family, is settled on lake — here, south of the Capital's border, the dust isn't so prevalent. It's not as dry. It's... well, it's beautiful.

"But, you promised."

"Promised what, exactly?"

You'd know that voice anywhere.

Your eyes lift from Hera's face, falling on the Captain and his gaggle of troopers meandering down the corridor. In the moonlight, Howzer looks... happy. Calm. Not so rigid, not so formal.

A rare sight.

It's like your whole world stops — just long enough that Howzer can offer a smile that makes the corners of his eyes wrinkle, and you're left staring at up him with parted-lips.

Moons protect me.

You try to will your lekku to relax. You can't help that the ends swat in interest. Hera watches, with dawning intrigue, as you try to hide the language behind your posture, and ignore the delicate tinkering sound the jewelry adorning them creates. Your dress pools against the cool clay tiles as you remain at Hera's level.

The young girl squints at you.

"Captain," you nod in soft greeting, "We were just talking about—"

"—About how alema," the word means protector in your tongue. It's a titled earned as Eleni's lady-in-waiting, and by being Chem's second-in-command, "Has refused to show me her marksmanship—"

Your jaw falls open. "I have not refused—"

Your ay’kou, your brothers in arms, behind Howzer are sporting grins. Doom and Fog watch the exchange with genuine curiosity. When you lean around Hera, giving the boys a pleading look, you're met with little snickers.

They're quick to bid their Captain a goodnight and head down the corridor past you and Hera towards their makeshift bunks.

"Hera," comes Howzer's gentle nudge, "Aren't you supposed to be attending your father's dinner?"

"We both are—"

"Senator Taa slurps when he eats," comes the sudden sharp commentary from the girl as she pokes you once more, "You said it yourself—"

Howzer muffles a laugh into a cough as you slap a hand over Hera's mouth. You give her a stern look, whispering I said no such thing in your native tongue. Hera is fast to laugh — no doubt amused at how the Captain seems to hang off your reaction.

It wasn't often he saw you like this... no, they were used to the guerrilla fighter, the tactician, the dead-eye shot. Never had you ever anticipated him seeing you here, playing big sister to the General's daughter. Though you've known this role for a long time, the war has been preoccupying your time.

You're beautiful.

It's not a new revelation; no, Howzer has thought it from the moment he met you. But, now in the calm of peace, you look... good. Not so battered by war. Softer. Like a woman he could marry someday when it's all said and done.

"I think someone is getting a bit bold," you say as you stand, "Dragging me from my meal—"

"You hate bantha!"

"It's an expensive import!" you hiss back, waving your hands to shoo Hera, but it does little to dissuade her as she laughs. You can't help how your face splits in two at the sight of her smile. You reach, thumb smoothing over her headband in a sisterly manner.

You catch Howzer smiling again.

"Bantha steaks, then?" comes his amused rumble, "I'm jealous."

"Yes, well, I was going to come and find you, Captain — offer up some..."

This time Hera sees the interested swat of your lekku in full. She can sense that... oh. You two are speaking like there's a joke there. Like there's something else beneath the surface of this exchange.

Then, she catches the tips of your tattooed lekku curl at the sound of his laugh. It's an enamored expression between Twi's. A language Hera has seen between her parents many times...

Oh.

OH?

Hera blinks.

Father never said anything about alema and Howzer.

...Does Father even know about alema and Howzer?

Does mother?!

The girl blinks rapidly between the two of you, too preoccupied with a soft look to notice.

Forget target practice.

This is much more interesting.

#captain howzer x reader #howzer x y/n #howzer x you #captain howzer #tbb howzer #captain howzer x you #captain howzer/reader #captain howzer x y/n #howzer imagine #tbb imagine #sw imagine #HERE YA GO

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daydreaming-scribe · 6 years

Text

Kiss it, Make it Better: Apotheosis

Another superb gifset from @gaywitchtwins, this time for the third chapter of Kiss it, Make it Better.

Max and Sam come face to face with the Dryad. This is the main chapter with violence. May be triggering to some - be warned.

The Dryad is much smaller than Sam anticipated. At scarcely five feet, she doesn’t strike him as an ancient nature spirit. In fact, she’s how he’d expect an ancient Grecian to look like – tanned olive skin and ringlets of dark long hair. Her smile is as wide and bright as a child’s, but the corners of her mouth and eyes are lined with endless crow’s feet, and her cheeks are rough and leathery from being exposed to the sun. She’s dressed in a chiton that looks like it’s been patched together from scraps of old clothing.

His and Max’s shirts are probably going to get woven into her next chiton. Seeing that she saw fit to remove their upper layers before binding their arms and legs with vines and placing them practically on top of one another against the wall. He’s glad she at least let them their jeans. He’d prefer that any situation where that the two of them are naked together be consensual, not the result of being forcibly stripped by a crazy Hellenic forest monster.

Max’s head slumps against his shoulder. Forcibly stripped naked by a crazy Hellenic forest monster while one of us is unconscious, Sam amends. This scenario is already so far out of his comfort zone. He barely needs to close his eyes to see a smug expression and hear the cocky was it good for you? Even if it makes him sadistic or misogynistic or whatever, he’s not exactly heartbroken that Ketch slit Toni’s throat and bled her dry like a pig. The only thing keeping Sam from drowning in memories of her and Lucifer is the hope that the Dryad’s intentions aren’t sexual. That, and the dagger he can still feel strapped high up on his thigh. He isn’t completely convinced by the first one, however. Those haunting green eyes are fixated on the pair of them like a wolf when it stalks deer. Or Dean, when he’s busy leering at a slice of pie or the waitress in whatever diner they’re holed up in.

“I have to say, you’re quite a catch.” She says, walking towards them. “I was intent on getting Handsome here, but I didn’t anticipate you.” Sam shifts in his binds, nudging Max slightly to rouse him. After the first few tries, the witch wakes up, lifting his head from Sam’s shoulder.

“What the hell?” Max groans, blinking slightly. “Where are we?” The Dryad’s lair seems to be the interior of a gigantic tree, probably the one they saw earlier. It’s not very large, probably 10 feet wide at the most, the only light streaming in from a narrow entrance on the far side, but it’s enough that they might have a way of running past the forest spirit. Or, they would have a way of running past her, if their prison wasn’t made of wood and they weren’t so deep into her territory that they had no possible way of escaping.

“You’re here to complete the ritual, my dears.” The Dryad smiles. “And none too soon. I’ve been waiting for nearly two centuries to finish it.”

“The other people, where are they?” Sam asks, looking intently at the Nymph. Her green eyes flicker, illuminating for a second as she peals with laughter. Holding up her arms, she spins slightly.

“Everywhere.” Glancing around the room, Sam feels his stomach drop. The walls of the lair are bumpy and made of bark, resembling a tree’s exterior more than anything else. On closer inspection, some of the bumps in the walls are eerily formed, seeming almost too deliberate to be accidental. There’s a shape in the bark to the left of Sam that looks like a set of toes. On Max’s right, a set of handprints protrude outward from the wall. Across the room is a face, caught mid-scream, as if it had been flash-frozen in wood. “It was effort, picking them all out and managing to get them alone so I could snatch them up. Planning, waiting for a hundred and eighty years – but, all in all, worth it for the ritual.”

“What ritual?” Max growls, sitting up a little straighter. “You don’t need sacrifices – you’re a nymph, not a pagan.” The Dryad shoots him a haughty look.

“Pagan’s a rather simple term, dear.” She tuts, green eyes rolling. “It’s such a catch-all, and you humans insist on using it even where it doesn’t fit. It’s dirty, and inaccurate, and groups too many things together. Not all ‘Pagans’ need sacrifices to endure – the Olympians, for example, are just fine and dandy on their own.”

“Why are you different, then?” Sam shoots back.

“Not all of these entities start out the same way. Some, like Zeus and his ilk, have always been as they are now – fearsome and powerful and godly. However, if you follow lore closely enough, you’ll notice that other deities were originally not worshipped as such.” Her eyes glimmer again. “Some started out as just being nature spirits.”

“You’re trying to deify yourself.” Max says, eyes wide in realization. The spirit laughs, nodding her head.

“Precisely. This ritual’s an old one, written in a tongue even most nymphs don’t understand, but it’s simply enough – Twelve human souls, at the least, each with sufficient enough qualities to represent one of the Twelve Olympian Gods, are sacrificed to the source of a Nymph’s power. Once the final sacrifice is made, the Nymph destroys the place where she made the sacrifices. Her power’s then generated from within, and she’ll be like unto a goddess.”

“We’re in your heart, then. You made a few trees fuse together, and put a part of your soul inside each of them.” Sam concludes, looking around at the bark walls.

“Very good – you’re a smart cookie.” She nods, impressed. “Yes, you’ve caught me. I might not be powerful as other gods, but I can make these trees do whatever I want. Hence this neat little room and its,” the dryad brushes a hand over the face frozen in wood. “decorum.”

“So you’re the Lorax, but with a God complex and homicidal tendencies.” Max snarks. “Maybe you should try yoga, take the edge off. In any case, you don’t get to act all victorious now. You’re two sacrifices short on the ritual. Unless you’re trying to tell us that the two of us match personalities with one of the gods you have left. My mythology’s shaky, but I don’t remember there being a Gay Witch God or a Sexy Wisdom God in the Pantheon.” Goddamnit, Sam shouldn’t be getting flustered at that comment like some blushing virgin, not in the middle of a kidnapping by some insane wannabe-deity.

“The ritual’s imprecise on what deems a soul the ideal match for a respective god.” The Dryad admits. “There are some things that can’t be avoided: a virgin and an academic for Athena – that spinster professor fit the bill. A hedonist for Dionysus – like that alcoholic bartender. For Queen Hera, a woman of the home, her husband being the only man known to her – the silly doting housewife. Familial bonds aren’t stressed too much, which is a relief. It’d be impossible to find people with as much incestuous heritage as the Olympians. It’s taken me a long time to gather enough people as it is. So, relationships are ignored in favor of personality traits, with a single exception. The most important bond between any two Olympians.” Sam feels Max stiffen beside him, and knows the witch has come to the same conclusion as he has. “The Huntress and the Healer, Artemis and Apollo.” She holds up two fingers. “Twins.”

“Alicia isn’t here.” Max challenges, struggling in his bonds. “She doesn’t know where we are.”

“She’s at the edge of the forest with your little entourage right now, and she’s going to find you with ease thanks to your phones’ tracking features.” The nature spirit counters. She withdraws both of their cells from her chiton, flashing them as if to prove a point, before tossing them on the ground beside her.

“She’ll come ready to fight.” The Dryad gives another high laugh.

“You were no match for me, and you’re a witch of Natural Affinity. Your sister’s pathetic imitation of a life is being held together by your magic and wood shavings.” Max glares, to which the nymph sneers. “Oh, please. My sight may not extend far, but nothing in the area surrounding my forest escapes my gaze. Not a better spy in this town than me, or my name isn’t Menodice.”

“Why take the effort with the ritual?” Sam asks suddenly. “I get the power boost, and not being bound to the forest, but you’re making yourself an easier target – I saw someone kill Zeus a few years ago. Took a lot less effort than finding a few trees and burning them.”

“So I wait for someone to cut down every last tree in the forest?” The Dryad demands. “Or maybe I don’t have to wait. I may not see what happens in the outside world, but I can feel the Earth slowly dying. Eventually it won’t matter if humans cut them down or not – the trees will die by themselves. I’m content to wait out eternity on a dead planet, as long as I’m here to endure.” She gives Sam a wide smile. “Got to say, though, you’re quite the unexpected bonus, Handsome. I already have the twelve souls, but yours is a strong one. Brightest I’ve ever seen.” Lucifer told him the same thing in the Cage, how even demon blood couldn’t dim his soul. Menodice walks toward them, predatory smile widening. “I think I’d like a little touch, before the ritual is finished.” Sam’s backing against the bark wall, pushing away from the Dryad’s outstretched hand as much as he can.

A shriek leaves her lips, and the nature spirit recoils in agony. Sam’s panting hard, more than a little panicked, but he still takes notice of the enormous burn running up her arm. Except instead of blistering flesh or an angry welt, it’s smoldering wood, ash-white and glowing with orange embers. The Dryad looks up from the wound, her face seething with rage. Beside Sam, the last of a conjured flame extinguishes in Max’s hand, and the floor on his other side is scorched black.

“You should probably reconsider.” The witch snarks. “Seeing as you were dumb enough to bring us into your life source, and I can burn it to the ground.”

“I’ll kill you first, you insolent little – ” Menodice’s cut off mid-snarl, suddenly grasping her hand. A long gash is running across her palm, oozing a dark fluid. Then, another gash appears alongside it. And another.

“Max! ” They hear Alicia call. “Sam! Hold on!” The Dryad snarls, stalking toward the narrow opening on the far side of the room. She only makes it halfway before another fire is summoned beneath Max’s fingers, incinerating a larger portion of the floor and wall behind him. Menodice cries out, the burn on her arm spreading wider and wider. With a tug, Max breaks free of his bindings and struggles to his feet.

“Alicia! Get back!” He shouts. A column of flame sprouts from his hand and coats a portion of the wall close to the narrow opening. Sam manages to break free of the the vines tying his own hands and legs, just as the Dryad gives another scream, this one reverberating throughout the tree. Her eyes are burning green, with a hand and part of an arm burnt away to nothing. Gone is the lecherous expression she’d been giving the two of them earlier, rapidly giving way to murderous fury.

“Sam, come on!” Looking past the injured Dryad, Sam sees Max exit through the gaping hole he made in the tree. His legs suddenly spring into action and he follows the witch through the still-burning cavity in the bark. Max and Alicia are caught in each other’s arms on the other side. Behind them, Jody, Donna, and Claire carry armfuls of axes.

“You look like you’ve had some fun.” Alicia jokes, earning a snort from Max as she pulls away from the embrace.

“Yeah, getting tied up by a Psycho forest woman’s my idea of a good time.” He drawls, turning back to face the tree. “Maybe next time you can join in on our fun.”

“Let’s deal with the psycho forest woman first, and you two can have your guy-time later.” His twin bites back, just as Menodice emerges from the tree.

There’s no doubting the Dryad’s inhuman nature now. Her eyes are completely green, glittering like emeralds in the afternoon sun. Large chunks of her flesh are gone, replaced with smoldering white bark. One arm has burnt off entirely, only a black stump at the shoulder remaining.

“You’re not going anywhere.” She snarls, lunging forward. A wave of her hand rips a root from the soil, sending Max flying. Alicia screams her brother’s name as he collides with a nearby tree and crumples to the ground. “I won’t be denied what is mine.” Sam grabs a spare axe from Jody and heads straight for the Dryad. He doesn’t make it far – another gesture from Menodice brings a branch low enough to make impact with his chest and knock him back a few yards. Donna and Jody make it to the Dryad’s tree, driving their own axes deep into the bark beside the gaping hole Max made. Dark stains blossom across the Dryad’s tattered chiton, as she grabs at her chest in pain. The victory’s short-lived, of course. Menodice shoots a glance back to her tree, and an enormous branch plummets onto the two sheriffs’ heads.

Sam and Claire charge the Dryad from different sides. The teenager reaches her first, embedding her axe into Menodice’s side before receiving a harsh punch to the shoulder and falling to the ground. Sam stops a dozen feet short, using all his momentum to send his own hatchet flying. It soars far above the Dryad’s head, making a satisfying crunch as it lands deeply into the top of her enormous tree. A new wound crosses Menodice’s face as she looks back at Sam, leaking that same dark amber. She’s on top of him in a flash, wrapping her remaining hand around his throat with a strength belied by her stature.

“I won’t be denied what is mine.” She growls again. “I think I’ll get those twins first, and maybe I’ll keep you around for fun.”

“You’re not getting anyone, lady.” Alicia growls from behind the Dryad. Her axe comes down, the metal singing as it cuts through the air. The sound stops abruptly before the axe can make contact with flesh. The fingers around Sam’s throat tighten further, and a low chuckle leaves the Dryad’s mouth.

“That’s adorable, dear.” Menodice coos, turning to face Alicia. “Were you trying to hit me?” The hunter is frozen, axe just inches from the Dryad. Menodice tuts in disappointment. “Twigs and twine, dear. You’re held together by nothing but twigs and twine.” A few yards away, Claire stirs and begins to crawl toward a leftover axe. The Dryad gives her a fleeting glance, before staring into Alicia’s petrified eyes. “Take care of her, will you?”

Menodice tilts her head in the direction of Claire, and Alicia’s body gives a violent jerk. She begins marching towards the younger girl, axe raised high. Each step she takes is like that of a puppet on a string, stiff and lurching. Claire manages to rise to her feet, looking on at the rapidly approaching hunter.

“Alicia, what are you –” She halts mid-sentence, ducking just in time to avoid getting decapitated. “Alicia, snap out of it!” Only Alicia’s face remains under her own control, showing the fear inside.

“I can’t!” She cries, swinging yet again at the younger woman. “I can’t move!” Claire lifts her axe, blocking the blow from Alicia’s own. At the base of Menodice’s tree, Jody and Donna are stirring slowly. Max is still motionless several yards away. Sam snarls and squirms in the Dryad’s chokehold, struggling to get free and help Claire. But the fingers around his neck are rooted firmly. He inches back toward the tree behind him. Sam feels the dagger hidden in his jeans rub its cool metal against his flesh as he presses against the bark. His captor sneers.

“You’re not going anywhere, handsome.” She says. “I’m stronger than you. The puppet is going to knock off your hunter buddies one by one, and the two of us are going to watch it happen.”

Claire’s holding her own against Alicia, parrying each swing that comes her way. She’s losing fast, however. The Dryad is puppeting Alicia’s movements with the intent to kill, while Claire’s only trying to defend herself from a fatal blow. Eventually the older hunter gets an opportunity, driving her weapon down hard. Claire barely has time to lift the handle of her own axe. It’s just enough to protect her head, but it snaps the handle in two and sends her sprawling back.

“Claire!” Jody shouts, finally on her feet with a gun in hand. Claire holds the two broken halves of her axe tightly as Alicia looms over her. A shot rings out, and Alicia stumbles slightly, continuing in a limp. Several more fire in succession, these ones ending dangerously close to Sam. Menodice grunts in annoyance as a bullet grazes her, loosening her hold on Sam and turning to Alicia.

“Kill the girl, then take –” The Dryad’s cut off abruptly, staggering backward. The handle of Sam’s dagger gleams in the light of post-midday, embedded beneath her chin. Sam takes advantage of the Nymph’s distraction and darts toward where Max still lays motionless.

“Max!” He shouts, falling to his knees by the witch and jostling his shoulder. “Max, we need you to get up, man.” Menodice’s managed to pull the dagger free of her mouth, slowly approaching them with the amber-coated blade in hand. Her commands clearly don’t need to be spoken to Alicia, because the resurrected hunter is still swinging with all the might in her constructed body. Claire uses the two broken halves of her axe to stab at the assailant while avoiding being hit by Alicia’s blows as best she can. Jody and Donna run to the teenager’s aid, abandoning the task of chopping down the Dryad’s tree. “Max, Alicia’s in danger – the Dryad’s using her, we need you to burn down the tree!” The young man gives a soft groan “Max! Max, come on –!”

Sam’s airway cuts off. Gasping, he reaches for his throat. The thing around his neck tightens at a touch, hauling him off the ground. Sam grunts and kicks as his oxygen diminishes. Eyes skimming the forest around him, he fights against the suffocation, forcing his body downward with all his might. He’s rapidly growing dizzy, desperate for one of the others to cut him free. But Max still lies prone beneath him, and the rest are trying to subdue Alicia.

“Shame.” The scowling Dryad looks up at him. “You could’ve just given up.” Sam kicks harder, trying to swing toward the trunk of the tree he’s hanging from. His vision gets progressively darker, and his entire body is numbed from an overwhelming coldness.

An unearthly wail pierces his mind. Sam gasps as his entire front lights up in pain. Air and the scent of dirt rapidly fill his lungs, and he realizes he’s pressed against the ground. A hand grabs his side, tugging him upward. His body’s too pained from the drop and numb from oxygen deprivation for him to struggle against the person holding him, so he just slumps in their grasp. The acrid scent of smoke fills his nose, the chill that overwhelmed him before fading fast and replaced by warmth.

“… –Sam? Sam!?!” He opens his eyes, greeted by a panicked Max. “Sam! You with me?” The witch jostles him slightly, his tone sharper. Sam nods sluggishly, groaning at the pain in his neck. “It’s okay, Sam. We got her.” He scans the scene around them, resting his gaze on a roaring inferno. The Dryad’s nowhere in sight.

Well, not entirely true. A few yards in front of them is a charred lump, roughly the size of a human. Looking closer, Sam can see its face frozen in a gruesome expression of pain. A squeeze at his sides has Sam glancing back to Max, whose own face is measured with tiredness.

“You okay?” He asks. The witch snorts, the corners of his mouth lifting up.

“You just were choked, tossed, and hanged by a forest spirit. I think I should be asking you that.” Max says, honey-colored eyes raking over Sam. They go wide, and he’s suddenly jabbed in the side, pain shooting through him. “Shit, that looks really bad.” Sam looks down to see a long gash across his ribs, blood trickling slowly from it. “Let me heal that.” Sam grabs Max’s free hand.

“It’s fine for now. Let’s just make sure none of the others needs it more.” Max gives him a worried look, but just tightens his grip on Sam as they slowly make their way across the clearing to where the rest of them are. Alicia’s looking a little worse for wear, seated up against a tree and rubbing her temples and stomach like she’s suffering from the world’s worst hangover and belly ache at the same time. Other than that, the rest of the group only has scratches and bruises. Of course, the number of times they all got knocked around will probably mean more than a few concussions, but they’ll worry about that later.

“Leesh, you okay?” Max asks. His twin gives a chuckle, lazily flicking an eye open.

“Feel like I got hit by an eighteen-wheeler.” She quips, tilting to one side. “I’ll live, I think.” A grimace flashes across her face. “Can’t understand what happened. I was ready to cut Poison Ivy into pieces, then I couldn’t move a muscle.” The arm holding Sam up tightens around him, and he and Max meet eyes briefly before turning back to her. “I mean, it makes no sense. None of the lore we’ve read on nymphs says anything about mind control.” Sam clears his throat.

“The lore’s obscure enough as it is.” He points out. “Some myths in Greek mythology talked about nymphs luring people into their lairs. It’s not such a stretch to think mind control would be in their power.” Max’s fingers are digging into his side now. Sam feels terrible, lying to Alicia, but he can’t risk telling the truth in front of the others.

“Would make sense how she was able to get all those people.” Jody adds, dropping the remaining axes into a large bag laid out on the ground. “Did you figure out what she was doing with them?”

“Ritual. Alicia and I were the last two sacrifices she needed.” Max explained. “She nabbed us when we weren’t prepared, and her plan was to lure Alicia in so she could turn herself into a god.” They all go silent.

“Fun, fun.” His twin chuckles nervously. “Here I thought you two were off having sex. Glad I was wrong. Might’ve kicked your asses if you’d made me panic for no reason.” Sam flushes, suddenly feeling far too close to Max. The fact that they’re missing their upper layers probably doesn’t help Alicia’s suspicion. Unfortunately, the shirts and jackets they’d been wearing are probably still in the Dryad’s tree, burnt to a crisp by now alongside their phones.

“I’m offended.” Max says, accepting Jody’s jacket and slipping it over one shoulder. “Do you know me to go off to have sex and leave you to do all the work in the middle of a hunt?” Alicia gives her brother a pointed look. “That one time outside Portland doesn’t count. And no, we didn’t have sex, for your information. Sam here can verify we only lost our shirts after we got knocked unconscious. I was a complete and utter gentleman.” He and Donna help ease Sam into Donna’s jacket, which is ludicrously tiny on Sam but still by far the closest fit. Sam’s pretty sure his face is as red as a brick. Thankfully, Donna’s also blushing fiercely. Jody and Claire, on the other hand, seem more amused than embarrassed by the twin banter.

“I’m glad to hear you haven’t taken advantage of this poor guy yet.” Alicia snickers. Wincing, she slowly pushes herself to her feet. “I was afraid you’d ruined another set of perfectly good hunting partners by flirting too much with them after Rock River.” The light in Max’s smile dims like the sun behind a cloud, but no one besides Sam takes notice. “I’ll let you two ‘gentlemen’ have the room tonight if you want. I’m hitting the bar.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Jody asks, walking over to the younger hunter. “Looks like you’re in a lot of pain, Alicia. Alex is waiting in the car, we should probably get back and drive you to the ER.” Alicia shakes her head, placing a hand on her stomach.

“I’m totally fine, Jody – it’s probably the stupid Dryad Magic running its course or something.”

“I’m with Jody on this, actually.” Claire says. Her gaze is locked around Alicia’s stomach. “Even with the stick part of the axe, I know I got a few good hits in. I swear I stabbed you at one point, Dude.”

“That’s ridiculous, Claire.” Alicia laughs, lifting the edges of her shirt. “See, no bleeding, just a couple bruises.” As she looks down, the laughing cuts off into a shriek.

On her stomach is a large, deep puncture.

Alicia places a trembling hand against the wound and pushes a probing finger inward. The hand is removed, clean as it was when she pushed it in. A second, and then a third go back, each time free of blood.

“Oh my god.” Alicia whispers, lifting her shirt up higher. “Oh my god.”

“Alicia?” Jody takes a few steps towards her. The sheriff has the demeanor of someone approaching a wild animal, stretching out an arm. The second it touches Alicia’s shoulder, she jerks back as if burned with a brand.

“Get away from me!” She snarls, backing away from them. She resumes poking her wound, making distressed sounds. “Oh my god. What the fuck?”

“Alicia.” The name is layered with hurt and heartbreak. Glancing to Max, Sam can see tears welling up in his eyes. Slipping from under Sam’s shoulder, he approaches his terrified sister. “Leesh, relax. Don’t move.” The woman’s face suddenly goes slack, expressionless eyes staring straight ahead. She doesn’t back away, or move at all, when his hand comes to rest on her side. The witch’s eyes glow violet for a moment as he brushes over the wound. The cut is covered when his hand lifts away. Sealed from the inside with twig. In the next instant, Alicia snaps out of her trance, shrieking and retreating from Max. She looks down to her sealed injury, then back up into her brother’s eyes, bewildered.

“Max?” At his name, her brother looks off to one side. “Max.” Alicia repeats, trying to meet his gaze. She shakes his shoulder. “Max!” He finally looks back to her, tears running down his face.

“Alicia.” His voice cracks. His sister places a hand on his shoulder before he falls to his knees. “Alicia, I’m so sorry.” Alicia stiffens, looking down at her brother in fear. “I’m so, so sorry, Alicia.” He reaches out to his sister. She flinches away from his grasp. Max breaks, tears streaming down his face as sobs begin to wrack his body. “Please, Alicia. Please, forgive me.”

“Max.” Alicia says, voice filling with horror. “Max, what have you done?” Max only cries harder, covering his face. “Max,” she repeats, louder. “What did you do?!”

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