Backwoods
10: One Way to Screw Oneself Over
Things get awkward real fast.
Torner's feet straddle the pedals below. Some prods lurch his buggy forward or backward or cause some rather disconcerting noises to exhume from somewhere inside the belly of the black demon. Whether the cause is water, blocked up vivosaur, uh, waste, uh, or maybe that one vivosaur Sean let Torner borrow is impossible to tell: all the little warden knows is he's not keen on finding out anytime soon.
The silence goes on for some time.
Outside of a few slams and nudges and obscene choices of wording over there in Leon's bulky buggy, not much of note occurs. Lysandre coughs once or twice, nudging her fighter, but he's unresponsive enough for her to drop any hope of his doing much other than stare uselessly.
It's a very awkward time for so long that nobody finds the courage to acknowledge it.
Finally, pushing stubborn Leon aside, that punk-rock-looking kid who probably, like, had a guitar for a parent makes a move. "Ssssso you wanna save us or what, dudo? We're stuck in sludge, our buggy's broke, and you obviously are the cavalry and all since Becky sent you."
"F-Frett," mutters the peachy one, elbowing his friend, "don't be crass."
"I'm being honest, Prescoootttt, not craaassssss!"
Leon, with a snort, rolls his eyes in the most melodramatic way he can possibly manage. It's not as impressive as he thinks it is. In fact, it's not impressive at all. "You're all a bunch of crass losers. And you don't get it!" He leers at Torner in a way that is petrifying to the thirteen year old and pretty weak to the lythro resting beside him, who snorts. "If we let him take us back, then we're giving up!"
"I-I think we gave up a long time ag—"
In a prompt display that reveals to Torner his opinion on friendship, Leon's clunky boot thuds on top of what must be Prescott's foot. The peachy-haired boy's face breaks into a silent mask of agony. Beside him, Frett tries to, like, lean against him, or something.
Another round of very quiet awkwardness.
Prescott takes a moment to turn and fidget at the awkwardly obvious tears scrolling down his cheeks.
It takes a debatable nanosecond for Frett to shove the purple-haired punk aside. "Dude. Like... come on..."
After bonking his head on some bone buggy fob or another, Leon winces as he clenches his long, pale nose with a fist. A small glob of blood spurts around the bottom of it. "Dude! Like—Come on! It's not my fault he forgot his shoes. That's his problem."
Amongst all of this testosterone, Torner figures out that the fob thingy Leon hit totally just expanded the screen of his buggy. Sounds trivial, but now he gets a pretty solid picture of pale Prescott's foot, and that foot is not in a good place right now.
Prescott's head tilts toward the ground.
His companion twitches irritably. "Duuude. You, like, practically rushed us out of there. Kept looking back, too..." musing softly, "like you were scared Becky was gonna be on you in a hot seco—"
Leon attempts to step on Frett's foot as well, but Frett's feet are addressed in some hefty, clunky sort of material that doesn't make a lot of sense on its own but serves a special purpose when on him.
That purpose is to set Leon's temper aflame.
"YEAH, WELL HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET ANYTHING DONE WITH YOU TWO IDIOTS MUCKING ABOUT AND FLIRTING WITH EACH OTHER'S PERSONAL SPACES RATHER THAN—THAN HELP ME CATCH THE JERKS WHO BROKE IN!"
Puckering his lips, Frett shrugs. "I don't flirt with someone else's personal space, now that's just wei—"
"AND YOU! YOU INSOLENT—" Here Leon takes a shot at stepping on Prescott's other foot, but his plight is left short when the olive-skinned rocker casually picks his demure friend up and carries him like it's nothing.
Then Leon trips and falls flat on his face in the middle of the bone buggy. His hand flops off his nose and a dribble of blood spatters over the metal floor.
Ah. Lei One's momentum carried him further than his common sense, titters Lysandre. Not that Torner's paying her any attention, what with his mouth agape and face a shade of pale even Leon's furious usage of foundation can't quite master.
More quiet. Leon, cheeks blustering in blotchy pink where the foundation isn't strong enough, slumps himself and folds his arms over his chest like the moodiest teenager there ever was. Frett continues to hold Prescott, and whether it's because danger is still imminent or he just wants to is hard to say. The latter tightens his pale fingers around his friend and dang, maybe they're betrothed too.
Gosh dang it, who the heck isn't betrothed in this crazy place!
Finally, after some mindless fiddling with the fobs on his speed demon, Torner activates the Big Screen Thing as well and now all the guys in the other bone buggy can stare at his lythro. He's not really sure why he wanted to also use the fob—it's possible Leon intimidated him enough to make him imitate the moody scrublord—as Nate called him—but either way there it is.
Someone coughs. Frett takes initiative and tips his head beside Prescott, and Torner gets this really hard feeling in his chest and decides that looking away is a wonderful idea and everything is so awkward now and why is everyone... betrothed to each other...
So... about this. Moments like these make Torner weirdly grateful for his red-and-white-striped monster. Can we get this moving on now? Torner's supposed to take you home with him, and your bone buggy is obviously wrecked, so how about you all come in here with him and we figure everything out after?
Leon's quick to grasp a chance at insulting someone other than himself. Wiping away a stray speck of blood from his lip, he grunts and mutters, "A speed demon is only equipped to carry two seats. There are four of us."
"Yeah, but"—Frett happily intercedes—"Prescott and I are pretty much a package, so if we sit together and you sit toge—"
"No, that is the most humili—"
"Yeaaaaaaah, bu—"
"No no no no no nO NO NO NO!" Nah. Leon's not a moody teenager anymore: he's five years old, at the climax of the biggest temper tantrum of his entire life.
And who else voices this but Lysandre? Lei One. If you ever want to amount to anything in any form close to the majesty your younger sister has approached far earlier than you ever will, I suggest you shut up.
Ouch. That was... pretty harsh, Torner mumbles in his lame drawl. But he did sort of... have it... coming... so like...
Maybe it's the shock of having a lythro address him so sharply, or maybe it's the shock of having a lythro address him at all, or maybe it's the fact that she called him by his real name, but whatever the shock of Leon's fate is, he goes dead silent, deathly red.
Curling his legs up against Frett's chest, Prescott makes his own little statement. "Ye-Yes, I do think it wise of us to enter your speed demon and... go back home." Warm, gentle eyes roam about his surroundings, not quite reaching the gaze of any of the others.
"Alrighty!" The rocker boy makes a show of tilting Prescott to the ground before halting himself, considering his actions, and resetting his position. "Wait wait. I'll put you in the demon, then we can hook our trash heap up to that thing... yeah, yeah." An accusatory glance in Leon's general direction, and Frett kicks open one of the hauler's massive doors.
He's quick to step through the sludge, quick to prop out the demon's passenger side, quick to place Prescott there. Weirdly soft, weirdly quiet as he does all of these things.
When the door opens, Lysandre scoots over and decides to sit on the dashboard. There, she curls up and enters a nice, long nap.
Torner's jealous.
Once the door is safely shut, he's back to his explosive self. "HEEEY LEI OOOONEEEEEEE! COME HELP ME HOOK THIS THING UP OR I'LL TELL YOUR SISTER YOU'RE A SCRUB!"
"I'm... urhhh, I'm not a scrub." Leon's brows knit as he whispers it, his pale fingers clenched about himself, but either way he kicks open a second door of the hauler with a flair of spite and almost falls a second time. Catches himself last second.
The boys take their time pulling a cord out of their buggy, instructing Torner to turn his thing around, trying to hook their buggies together in a way that keeps the cord from coming loose, because that's all it seems to be good at. While he bides his time, Prescott adjusts himself in the seat, his soft brown—closer to orange—hair falling in lithe curls about his flushed face. He's... small, kinda like Torner, but more pronounced in that way people get after they hit puberty. Comfortable with himself.
Y'know. The way Torner isn't.
His soft toffee gaze scrolling, Prescott eventually catches Torner's eye and makes an attempt at conversation. "So... you're new here? Like a... new warden, and all?"
"U-Um, yeah..." He takes a moment to jerk the buggy backwards, as per Frett's raucous request. "I'm a... junior warden... I-I guess." Gosh. Not something to be proud of, huh. "Like you guys? Becky said all the junior wardens ran away."
"W-We didn't run away!" Prescott's expression warms when he blushes, adding an endearing touch on him where it might fluster others. Kinda cute. "We thought... we'd find the perpetrators! B-But our plan fell through. And none of the big wardens thought it was a good idea... a-and I... guess they were right." He doesn't sound sad to admit his failure, though. Pff... The exact opposite of Leon.
Torner doesn't have much to say, and Prescott obviously doesn't either, so they sit in a comfortable silence. The bone buggy shifts every few times, little ominous surrrr sounds rumbling out of it whenever it revs in the mucky water.
Then he just has to blurt something out: "So are you and Frett betrothed too."
"A-Ahh..." Another blush from the demure boy. "Heh... You speak so boldly. I am... not so bold. It's... admiring." Shakes his head. The compliment sort of goes over his red-haired companion's head. "What is your name?" Oh uh.
"Torner." Meh. "But seriously, a-are you?"
The gentle cloak of quiet once more. Well, until Frett stubs his toe on something. Then quiet again for a little longer. "That would... be nice... one day. But that is not how we stand as of now." Prescott lowers his sweet gaze and murmurs it again, like something he wants to cherish. "That would be nice. One day." Happy sigh.
Alright. Okay. Just Penny and Nate, then. For some reason, Torner is relieved to hear this.
Though it might not be for long.
Torner quietly gags.
It doesn't take all that much longer for the others to be satisfied enough with their work; both of the speed demon's hatches spill outward and in come a couple of very wet teenaged boys. At least the stench of dirt and muck masks the acrid smell of—um—something else.
"Aaah maaannn..." Frett, plopping himself happily beside his boyfriend, pops off his shoes and starts rolling up the soaked ends of his intensely ripped up jeans. But these are all intentional rips; it's just something you can tell. Wrapping an arm around Prescott and therefore soaking the latter's back, the rocker gets himself comfy.
A whole new grimace enters the planes of Leon's face as he awkwardly places himself to Torner's left, the kid making sure to leave him as much room as humanly possible. With all the people jumbled up inside, Lysandre has already finished up her nap and tucked herself into a spot beside the gas pedal, reassuring her fighter that she can help out with pressing buttons: whether or not it'll be useful they are soon to find out. It's sort of creepy catching her still, amber-green gaze pierce him from her shadowy corner.
Torner still has no idea where Sean's vivosaur is. They're just gonna ignore that part.
Enough time passes that Torner has convinced himself Leon won't, like, force the task of driving upon himself. So the brand new junior warden sucks in a breath and decides to get it over with or whatever. It's not so bad the second time, especially with his vivosaur murmuring little encouraging morsels here and there—also the weight of the heavy hauler evens out some of the demon's toxic speed, and that is a wonderful plus.
A strange silence descends upon the group as they trundle their way back. Thundering vivosaur steps cascade in waves on most directions, the echoing walls of tunnels forcing sounds to funnel and making it near impossible to tell which beasts are nearby and which aren't even a problem.
Whenever he does happen upon one, Torner squeezes his eyes shut and he and Lysandre both step on the gas, and that is probably very stupid and terrible, but at this point he's lost sight of any real reason to care.
They make it out of Orinoco Path alright. A few wrong turns here and there, but everyone is just so done that their lack of motivation is so little it causes them to have the willpower to get out of the stupid trail. Also Lysandre. Mostly Lysandre.
Exiting the cave, Torner manages to keep the buggies straight enough to get up and out of that bigger cavern without anything falling off the edge this time. Catching the glimpse of foliage up above and revving onto peaty soil once more arises such a strong feeling in his heart that he takes a solid few seconds to slam his own head against the dashboard.
Nobody questions it, which is nice.
The telltale glint of a peeking sunrise flits amongst the starlit sky, causing Torner's stomach to clench. He doesn't know how many hours it's been and he really... doesn't wanna know, either. But the sight is mesmerizing, dark immersing the light until shining fronds alight strong enough to overtake the shadows in little pockets. And it's so mesmerizing that Torner doesn't even watch the road, just the sky.
He runs into many things via this driving style, but nobody questions this either, which is also nice.
It's not even accusation that breaks him out of his spell, but... remorse. Quietly. Soft enough that only the person sitting directly beside him hears: not Frett, not Prescott, not Lysandre—well, unless she reads her fighter's thoughts. "Kid, I... I hate being pathetic." Intake. "I hate being told I'm worse than her at everything—heck, I... I hate being worse than her at... every little thing. Better fighter, better strategist, better driver, better... just better. I can't even make friends better than her, and she's... herself."
Torner makes a quick stare at Leon's lip, but nope, it's moving. It's the one speaking. Uhhh. Oh gosh... um... that's a weird feeling in his chest...
He lets out a breath. "Mhhhhh... Maybe you're just, uh... good at sewing. Like Sean." Y-Yeah. Yeah.
To his surprise—knocking his pulse up higher than it should probably go—a harsh laugh barks out of Leon's tight mouth. Looks almost as surprised as Torner, but the emotion rubs off once the shocked thirteen year old rams their buggy straight into a tree. "Y'know... that almost made me feel better." Exhale. "I'll be honest."
"But you just were honest." Torner doesn't know.
A strange blink from his moody, uh... friend? Maybe not so moody right now. Torner doesn't like thinking about it. "Huh... Yeah, I guess I was." Leon takes a moment to reflect upon his actions. "Weird. Maybe you're just easy to talk to, since you're a whiny kid." Oh. Um.
Now this, Torner takes as a compliment. And how does one repay such words? Ummmm. "Maybe you're just... good at video games." Alrighty. So far so good. "I have an NS. You should play Mario Kart. With, uh. With me." Yeah. Oh, oh... or maybe ARMs, since that one just came out and all. Plus the Snaker dude is really cool and Nate will stop complaining about whether or not someone else is playing Luigi.
"Pfffff..." Leon's sharp, dark eyes roll to the ceiling. It's not until he makes a slight nod that Torner realizes, with a jolt, that he was actually considering it. "At this point, why not."
His thick, lilac hair droops down to his shoulders, the pins he kept to secure so much of it up now missing. It falls in a tangled frame, softening his angular cheeks and cutting gaze and crooked nose. A slight half grin curls one end of his face.
He manages both hope and hopelessness in the same begotten gaze.
It's a much shorter ride to the entrance of Starry Falls than it was when Torner arrived. That's because he actually is watching the road this time... at least, more than he was before. Uh. Probably it's Lysandre, though.
The entire bone buggy is contaminated by the stench of sweaty and muddy and just all around disgusting teenage boys, and that's alright. They'll figure it out later. They'll also figure out what to do with the busted up hauler later. And maybe Becky won't yell at them like Stryker does—or maybe they won't yell at Torner since all Torner did was go and retrieve the guys, not... bust them up in the first place.
Wait. "Uhhh, how did you guys get lost anyways?"
Leon grunts. "Oh, uh. We were chasing the jerks who vandalized headquarters... like, we actually found them and everything... and then they ducked into Orinoco... so we followed... and they beat us up... and we got lost... and, well." He oddly doesn't seem to mind relaying all of these events to Torner, but his attitude suggests that Torner doesn't ask him anything else anytime soon.
Just as Torner scrolls their buggy out of Starry Falls, something lands with a thurk on the roof.
A couple spines protrude into the metal.
It's Sean's vivosaur.
He's so done that he starts driving with it on top and everything until this really ugly sound starts reverberating from the engine like it had, what, twelve or something times before since the start of this stupid dig site, and all of a sudden a halo of light explodes into the sky.
Everyone pretty much stares at it and lets the fire burn their eyes. Frett makes some throwaway comment about how cool it is.
A few alarming SSCURRHHHes and soon after, the weight comes unhinged from the roof. A big-beaked monstrosity hefting enormous wings far larger than both bone buggies combined and these burning eyes not unlike that of the sun catch Torner's eye first... and by then he's not sure if he wants to see anymore.
With a cough, the coatlus speaks. I figure you've had it covered up until now.
Oh that's where he we—wait wait wait had it covered. Had it covered.
Instead of responding, Torner sinks to the lowest part of his chair, curls into a ball, grabs the instruction manual from the ground, and shoves his face into a random page.
It's a lot easier than any of the other actions he could've taken.
This is what Sean's vivosaurs are all like basically
oh I figured you had it covered
Yes he was inside of the engine for pretty much all of this chapter and the last one too—while Torner's buggy has been making some very spooky noises, he obviously drives it without difficulty
he was those noises
yeah uh
I love this story