MW: Hey, everyone. Hope the wait wasn't too long-here is chapter eleven of Down A Shadowed Road - Revised. Hope you enjoy-this is the beginning of relationship/team building, but we do get to see the team actually function as a unit next chapter. Anyways, questions are answered at the end until then~
11 - Heavenly Voice, Hellish Embrace Part II
"Hunter,"
He heard her voice. The heavenly voice was like a whisper, drifting through the open window just above his head, the cool breeze tickling his ears and ruffling his hair. Hunter missed Sabrina more than he thought he would. He managed to function without her, but he never felt complete now that she had left.
But where had she gone? She hadn't told him much of anything, just up and left. They promised that they'd see one another again, and Sabrina wasn't one to break promises. But now that he was eighteen, things were different. He had a duty. He had to protect the city, not just himself.
It had been just under two years since he had last seen her. Not long for some, but to Hunter, he felt like he hadn't seen Sabrina in forever. The loneliness ate away at him like a parasite, but Hunter fought through it. He kept his end of the promise. He would wait for her for as long as it took. Unless he died, of course.
"Hunter!"
There it was again. Her voice. Hunter could almost feel her hands on his back, pushing him out of bed. "Don't wake me up yet, Sabrina," Hunter mumbled groggily. Of course, she wasn't actually there, but he could still ramble about her to himself. He could still imagine her, couldn't he?
"Hunter, get up!"
Hunter groaned in exasperation and cracked his eyelids, blinking once or twice to separate his eyelashes. Golden hair. Eyes, eyes that were greener than the leaves on Bartleby. "Sabrina?" He asked in disbelief, still half asleep.
"Hey," she murmured softly, her voice soft and calming. The lamp next to the bed was on now. Hunter's clock read 10:00 in the evening. Time in the Spiral was just like the time on Earth, save for the fact that there weren't any preposterous abbreviations like PM and AM. Of course, time wasn't any different, mainly because wizards and Earthborns liked to imitate one another.
Hunter propped himself up on his elbows, opening his eyes as best he could. Wiping them with the back of his hand, he blinked again. No, Sabrina was definitely there. This wasn't a dream. But...but he had to be sure. "This isn't a dream, is it?" Hunter inquired, reaching out towards the girl.
She sighed. "I figured you would say that," Without warning, she lifted Hunter's hand and placed it on her chest. "Do these feel real?" She asked in slight exasperation.
This was the first time Hunter had felt someone's breasts. He didn't remember her having those before. Damn, she'd really filled out. "Nice, huh?" She concluded, her question more of a statement than a question.
"Wha-!" Hunter exclaimed, surprised by her bold behavior. He blushed and withdrew his hand immediately; the sly smile that spread across her face was something he hadn't seen before. When she left, she was more...reserved. Timid. Insecure. Now she seemed bold, daring and insatiable.
How alluring.
"I-uh...Sabrina-! Where have you been?" Hunter stumbled over his words before settling on a question he figured would give him the answers he sought.
"I've been out and about," she responded with a shrug. "Did some world hopping, y'know?" Sabrina gave Hunter a smile. "Did'ja miss me?" She gave a joking flip of her blond hair and a wink, her green eyes captivating Hunter.
Wow.
Okay, not what he was looking for...whatever. He'd take all he was given for now. Pulling Sabrina into a tight embrace, Hunter spoke again. "I missed you so much...too much," he said gently.
Sabrina patted Hunter's head, running her fingers through his hair. She gave her best friend a somber smile, and inhaled deeply. "It's...it's okay," she said, her voice slightly shaky. She hoped Hunter didn't notice, and swallowed painfully.
"What's wrong?" Hunter exclaimed, pulling away. His hands were on her shoulders now despite her standing and his lower half still protected by the sheets. They locked eyes, and Sabrina felt afraid. It was something she hadn't felt in a while. Secrets were things Hunter didn't take lightly. He was never one to hide things from her, and she didn't hide things from him.
She sighed, and shook her head. "Hunter…" she began, turning away from him. "I...went home." Sabrina whispered. Hunter threw the sheets off of his body, placing his feet on the cold, polished wood floors and stepping over to his much shorter paramour. He embraced her, and Sabrina leaned her head against his body. He missed this. He wished he could kiss her-he probably could-but maybe it wasn't the right time. No, he needed to savor this reunion. This sweet, sweet reunion.
Hunter was by no means tall-maybe about five feet, eight inches, but he was still taller than his brother (who Sabrina had visited once in prison) and Sabrina. Tall enough, he'd always say. Sabrina used to enjoy his hugs. She still did, but...now...what was she? Could she still go back to the one person who made her feel safe in a world full of hellions and scum? Was his embrace heavenly or was it really hellish?
Would Hunter ever understand?
"Home? Back to Celestia?" Hunter inquired. His breath was warm on her ear, and he nuzzled into the crook of her neck much like a cat. These were the moments that they would share when Sabrina still went to Ravenwood. When they were younger. Naive.
Safe.
Sabrina nodded, reaching an arm up to wrap around his neck. "Yeah," she said. "I went back home, to get away from...this." Her voice sounded slightly…off, as if she was dissecting a deep-seated trauma.
"The bullies..?" Hunter asked, his voice soft. He knew it was a sensitive subject, and would normally avoid it at all costs, but they were both adults, and were able to handle situations like this. Maybe.
Sabrina nodded again, falling silent.
Hunter remained silent as well, his nostrils filling with the smell of peaches. It was sudden, and he hadn't noticed the smell before, but he'd roll with it. She smelled nice.
"When I was at home, I found someone. Not a man, a woman. She taught me...she taught me how to use it successfully. The Storm magic. Divination. If I still went to school, I wouldn't fail that bastard frog's class, Hunter." Sabrina's voice was bitter, and her words made little sense to Hunter, but he nodded anyways, understanding what little he could.
So she had found a woman who taught her more Storm magic. That was good. But...but who was the woman? Hunter didn't know of anyone who taught any sort of Ravenwood magic in Celestia. Hunter didn't even know of anyone in Celestia who taught magic. The pedestals-what were they called, archives-held the knowledge of ancient magics...the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. So then, how..?
Something was wrong. The smell of peaches overwhelmed Hunter now, and he retreated a short distance from Sabrina, coughing into his arm.
All of his instincts told him to run.
Sabrina's eyes found the ground, sparkling with tears. "Hunter...she made me feel safe. This woman. She saved me." Sabrina looked up at the man she once felt so strongly for, a single tear sliding from her right eye down her cheek and to her chin. "This is the last time you'll see me, Hunter." The female Diviner raised her hand above her head before drawing it over her face, the visage of a wolf materializing over her torn and conflicted expression.
What?
What?
What?
"What..?" Hunter mumbled, his thoughts incoherent. He staggered backwards, afraid. Electricity crackled around Sabrina, and she gave a small snarl, much like that of a wolf's. "The mask...Sabrina, you-" Hunter began, but paused abruptly as Sabrina interrupted.
"Hunter, I didn't want you to have to see me like this."
"I-what-you-"
"I love you, Hunter, but...in the end, you're an obstacle. An obstacle I have to eliminate so that you don't do anything stupid. So you don't jeopardize her plan." Sabrina seemed to falter; Hunter thought he saw confliction in her for a brief moment, but when he looked again, he saw nothing but the cold, cunning, callous gaze she had once given him upon their first meeting. "Oh, and...I'm 'The Wolf'."
Hunter gawked. Had she said that to throw him off guard? Well, it wasn't like it didn't work, especially considering he was already off guard by the fact that she was wearing that mask...but…'The Wolf'?
'The Wolf'. Sabrina was 'The Wolf'? The violent, brutal killer Hunter had heard stories of? The same murderer Hunter had met face to face? The murderer he had fled from because in the end, he was simply a coward who couldn't protect anyone?
What a stretch. But...when he thought about it-if he could think about it-it made sense.
Didn't it?
Whereas other wolf masks might be basic and grey with feral looking eyes, the one Sabrina wore differed in the sense that the color of the of the fur on the mask was a reddish brown, almost like a fox. The eyes, instead of the general yellow, were a vibrant gold. This mask...Hunter had seen it before. In the store, during Hallow's Eve so many years ago, he had went with Sabrina to buy masks and she had selected the wolf mask, the only wolf mask that stood out from the other masks due to its unique color scheme. She had giggled happily as she put it on and Hunter had said she looked beautiful.
He had seen it again when he met 'The Wolf' for the first time; the mask was covered in blood and the blond hair that flowed outwards from beneath the mask had rooted him to the cobblestone that lined Ravenwood's walkways. He swore that 'The Wolf' saw him, but he never had to confirm that theory because he had fled, running as fast as his legs would carry him, the feeling of nausea and bile filling his every orifice.
The reason Hunter chose to protector of Wizard City was because of 'The Wolf'...it was because Sabrina had told him so many years earlier that his behavior was detrimental to his health and he should try and make someone else smile for once. Was his choice all for naught? The irony of this situation suddenly hit him and he burst into nervous laughter, falling backwards onto his rear.
But what was he to her? An obstacle? Nothing but an obstacle now? What..?
Why was it so painful?
Why me?
"Maybe I deserve this," Hunter murmured to himself. "Maybe...maybe this was supposed to happen. Does it have to be like this..?" Nevertheless, despite Hunter's half shocked, half hysterical state, his subconscious was still on high alert, and he rolled towards Sabrina as she threw a bolt of lightning towards him.
The floor behind him shattered, but there was no time to even give the hole in his dormitory floor the slightest bit of attention. He duly noticed a shout of pain and annoyance from the room below, but it wasn't his job to focus on that. Hunter threw his weight upwards, raising his arm, pushing his palm towards Sabrina's chin in an attempt to stagger her. No matter how rattled he was on the inside, the training he'd undergone in the years she had been absent paid off. It kept him alert and focused even if he truly was unable to process what was going on.
But it wasn't enough. It was never enough, and Hunter knew he couldn't hold out forever. Obviously, there would be a moment where his emotions might overwhelm him, but he was expecting it, right? He'd trained for this. Protecting Wizard City was hard, but was fighting your best friend/possible lover any easier? Malistaire was a stranger, one Hunter didn't try to empathize with. But Sabrina...Sabrina was different. Sabrina was pretty, she was curvaceous, she...had breasts, she had spunk, she could challenge him on everything yet was kind and caring. She was all the things that Hunter needed to stay sane. At least, aside from his brother.
Was it really worth it? Living? Fighting back?
Sabrina sidestepped his palm smoothly, grabbing his arm with one hand and throwing an outstretched hand towards his stomach, the Verse already leaving her mouth, albeit muffled beneath the wolf mask. "Insane Bolt!" She spoke.
Hunter gawked. Before she had left, she was only capable of summoning a Thunder Snake, at best. Even then, the creature was deformed. Now she was able to cast an Insane Bolt? Three years couldn't have allowed her that much development. It took Hunter roughly five years to get to where he was now, and it still wasn't enough. Had Sabrina managed to surpass the limits of a normal Diviner in three years?
There was still the Insane Bolt to worry about. Shit.
Twisting his arm to remove himself from her grip, Hunter extended his knees and pushed himself backwards. Sabrina did not let go, however, undeterred by the fact that he was compromising his physical ability in order to get away from her. He was in her way-an obstacle she needed to eliminate in order to get stronger. Instead, she pulled him closer, towards her outstretched palm that crackled with bright blue electricity.
He didn't put up any visible shields, as far as she could tell. He just made it easier. Cloaked shields weren't really a problem since Sabrina already had the next spell in her mind. The Verse was on the tip of her tongue...she hoped he hadn't gotten crafty over the years. Unpredictability was never his strong suit.
"Gah!" Hunter roared as he took the brunt of the blow, throwing his abdomen into her palm. The Insane Bolt caught him as he made an attempt to dodge again, and threw him backwards. Hunter's body was like a rag doll as he flew through the air, his leg catching on the bed and sending his body into a violent, short-lived spin before he hit the polished floor again, his skull slamming against the ground painfully. His forehead was bruised, a large, darkened indentation in the skin enough to show that he was hurt. The top he had worn to sleep was torn around his abdomen, a shallow burn reddening on his stomach.
The cloaked shield shimmered around his body, and the male Diviner gave a sigh of relief. He was hurt, but it wasn't enough to stop him permanently. As Hunter rose to his knees, he began the first part of the Verse, the image of the dispel charm in his mind.
Watch out, his senses told him.
He rolled even closer to the wall, contracting his elbows and tucking his arms and legs in towards his chest, having predicted Sabrina's movements precisely, as she leapt over the bed and thrust her staff downwards, narrowly missing Hunter's ear. The dull thud of the well crafted, Grizzleheim made staff against the floorboards filled Hunter's ears.
Throwing his arm towards Sabrina, Hunter pushed himself to his feet, making a mad dash towards the door of his dormitory. If he couldn't get out of this alive, maybe he could tell someone about her. The dispel charm flickered as it sailed through the air, a glowing lightning bolt outlined by the verse Hunter had spoken.
Sabrina, preoccupied by the moving target, whirled around to face Hunter as he darted towards the door, then changed course and moved towards his bedside table before leaping over his bed towards her. The charm's light grazed her figure before vanishing into thin air. Success. He was almost surprised-he'd figure she'd notice a dispel.
Maybe she did notice, Hunter thought as her voice began to rise in pitch and she broke out into a Song. He recognized the spell as 'Rage', a spell that cost little mana but had decent offensive properties in the sense that it could be used to eliminate shields or simply apply pressure without wasting too much mana like she had before. A soft green light radiated from Hunter-no, it wasn't coming from him, but almost around him-and he threw up a hasty shield before he leapt backwards, onto his bed, in the hopes that the spell would throw him towards the door.
The sharp pop that resounded throughout the room elicited a yelp from the room below which was followed by the sound of feet scraping against the wooden floors. It didn't throw him towards the door. Damn. Sabrina paused for a split second before she gripped her staff with both hands, raised it above her head and swung it in a downwards arc.
"Sabrina!" Hunter yelled wildly as he clapped his hands together above his head where he predicted the staff would be, barely managing to grasp onto the end of the weapon. "Stop it, goddamn! Why are you doing this?!" Unfortunately, it seemed as if he couldn't stay detached from his emotions forever, and they began to creep inside his subconscious, overriding his senses and slaying his desire (and ability) to continue the fight. He didn't want to win anymore. Why was he even fighting her? He...he loved her, didn't he? Was there even an outcome where he could win? Was Sabrina really 'The Wolf'? It couldn't be true, could it? There had to be other wolf masks just like it-other wolf masks with the same colors. Right? Who was the woman Sabrina had met? Did the woman do this to her? What the hell was going on?
What would Talon do? Hunter thought to himself. What would my older brother do? Would he fight? Would he run? No...he's strong...he wouldn't run. He would fight. No matter what. Even if it killed him, Talon would fight.
But was Hunter capable of fighting back? Was Hunter as strong as Talon? ...No, of course he wasn't. He needed to be saved, always. He was a coward compared to his brother. His brother had the ability to overcome fear in times of desperation, and Hunter was just...there. He was weak. He felt the strength ebb from his arms, his grip weakening. Could he really do this? No...no, he couldn't.
"I can't fight you," Hunter mumbled, lowering his arms as the staff flashed towards his head. The killing blow. It would be over. Nothing to worry about. It wasn't closure, but it was enough. He wasn't Talon. He was a coward. He didn't have the will Talon had. He didn't have the desire to live on, like Talon did. Life was pointless in the face of death, so why did Talon keep going?
"Aah!" Sabrina yelped. Hunter's head snapped upwards upon hearing the scream. How and why was he still alive? To his surprise, Sabrina had staggered backwards, her left hand coated in a thin sheet of ice, a small, web-like crack running from her ring finger to her wrist. Hunter whirled around, searching for the newcomer who could've cast such a spell. It wasn't him-he wasn't as skilled in Thaumaturgy as some of his comrades. Standing in the doorway was the Thaumaturge that had been assigned to the team. James, was it? Why did that name...why did his face look so familiar? James was wearing the armor he had worn when he had first met the team, and Hunter was surprised that the other man wasn't wearing some form of sleepwear, especially considering what time it was. How strange. The smell of peaches once again filled Hunter's nostrils, and he quickly turned back towards Sabrina.
Where the hell was that smell coming from?
James spoke before Hunter could. "I alerted the headmaster and a few of the teachers. If we pin her down until the teachers get here, we can get out of this relatively unscathed. James' eyes found Hunter's.
"I…" Hunter began, but trailed off.
James inhaled deeply before exhaling powerfully, his breath nearly freezing on the way out. "Do you think you can do it? If you can't, I can." It dawned on Hunter that James Duskstone was capable of murder, manipulation and possibly even extortion, as long as it was for the good of the world.
Hunter faltered. Could he really do it? Just a moment ago, he had lowered his arms in preparation for a killing blow. He had been prepared to die. And now, here he was, struggling with himself again. Just say it, Hunter. Just tell him you can't. "I don't-" Hunter began again.
"Watch it!" James hissed, tackling the other man, throwing them both to the floor as Sabrina swung her staff again, the swing narrowly missing James' shoulder. The duo crashed to the floor as Sabrina whirled to face them, her blond hair swirling around her wolf mask. She looked beautiful, especially under the moonlight filtering through the window. Sabrina was turned towards the two for a moment before there was a loud bang and she vanished in an explosion of purple dust and sparks of electricity. James was silent as Hunter marveled, unable to entirely process what had just played out.
"Sabrina was…'The Wolf'?" He thought aloud, frozen in the prone position he'd landed in after James tackled him. "This can't be real…" He muttered in disbelief. "This can't be...Talon...where is my brother..?"
James rose to his feet, giving Hunter's shoulder a pat, but saying nothing. There were several creaks near the doorway, and the Thaumaturge looked up over the bed to see the familiar faces of Cyrus Drake, Halston Balestrom and the girl Ambrose had told him about-Astra Snaketongue; she had introduced herself as Astra Drake, but James knew better.
"The perpetrator got away," he said simply, shrugging. He gestured towards Hunter. "He helped me pin her down, but she fled before you arrived."
Ambrose gave a swift, solemn nod. "Thank you, James." The Thaumaturge slipped between Cyrus and Ambrose, descending the stairwell to return to his room, directly below Hunter's. The expression on Ambrose's face was grim, and he massaged his temples as he made his way through the broken room over to Hunter.
The Diviner stared at the much older man, his eyes wide and afraid. The expression that lined Hunter's face was very reminiscent of a child's. He looked as if he had just stared hell in the face and suffered a severe, internal trauma. "Headmaster…" Hunter mumbled softly.
"Are you alright, Hunter?" Ambrose inquired. He reached a hand out to Hunter, who remained still, save for his eyes, which relentlessly tracked the hand as it shook ever so slightly and gradually moved closer to his shoulder.
"I…" Hunter began, but trailed off. Slowly, he began to speak, regaining his strength and his courage. "Headmaster, Sabrina was here,"
"Sabrina? Sabrina Wolfheart?"
Hunter nodded vigorously. "She was here. In the room. She put on the mask, sir. The wolf mask...she is 'The Wolf'." He finished, feeling suddenly short of breath. Hunter placed a hand on his chest and swallowed painfully.
"She is 'The Wolf'? Child, are you sure?"
Hunter nodded again, remembering a potentially crucial piece of information. "She said...Sabrina said something about being... saved. Does that make any sense to you, sir? She said when she went back home to Celestia, she met a woman-learned Divination from that woman-she said the woman she met "saved" her." He added, clearing his throat.
Ambrose fell silent, his eyes widening in horror. This woman...could it be? Was it really Morganthe? Was she really striking this early? Why? How could she have manipulated Sabrina so easily? "Hunter," Ambrose croaked. "This may signify the beginnings of war."
Hunter felt the fear fill his mind, and for once in his life, he felt truly helpless. Truly inferior. He was scared of war. Scared of something interfering with his generally peaceful life.
He just wanted to go home.
Talon, Hunter thought to himself. What would Talon do?
He heard a creak, like the turning of gears.
The Necromancer shot upright, his red eyes giving off a dim glow in the darkness-the silence-of the bedroom. He wasn't asleep. He hadn't been asleep since Astra had excused herself to the bathroom, where he had heard her linger, groaning in what sounded like pain, but could've been something else.
Hmm.
You perverted fuck, he told himself, shaking his head and sighing. Astra didn't even remember him, and here he was, ogling at the thought of her-
I thought that six years of prison would've numbed you to the thought of women. Thalomir exclaimed in disapproval.
"I like men, too," Talon hissed.
Thalomir gave a grunt of acknowledgement. I know.
"Are you telling me to forsake my sexual identity and lean completely towards one gender?" Talon inquired, his voice confused.
Someone's here.
Talon threw his arms up in exasperation, shaking his head and sliding his body out of the sheets. Crouching by his bedside table, he lifted the golden-bladed axe that rest against the left side of his mattress tentatively, his grip tenacious and iron-like.
Steeling himself and inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm his rapidly beating heart, Talon slipped closer to the door, raising the axe above his head in both hands. He was afraid. He was always afraid. For what? There was nothing to be afraid of, right? No. There was always something to be afraid of.
Focus. Focus, boy, focus. There is a threat, and a possibility that we can be defeated. Do you recall the battle you fought with the masked blonde?
"I remember," Talon murmured softly. It was a blow to his ego. His defeat...well, he wasn't expecting it. She was strong...but that only meant Talon should get stronger. Strong...power was what he needed. Power overcame fear. Power overcame change. Power kept him safe. Power kept Hunter safe. Power would help Astra regain her memories...if that was what she wanted. Power would help him lead.
Power was everything.
He heard a creak, like the turning of gears.
It wasn't at the door any more.
His heart began to beat faster, the pounding filling his ears before it was once again drowned out by silence, a silence that caused the fear to rise up again, his heart to beat faster and his legs began to shake. Fear was the overwhelming instinct.
Talon hated fear. But he couldn't stop it. It was natural, and he was afraid of some things. He just wished he wasn't.
Focus. It's here.
He heard a creak, like the turning of gears.
What does that sound like to you, boy?
"Clockwork," Talon breathed softly. He inhaled and exhaled slowly to calm his rapidly beating heart. He spun slowly, still crouched, and pushed his back against the door, lowering the axe so that it rest in front of his body as he rose to his feet.
If the intruder was on the ground, then he would be able to sense them, as long as he was able to pull off the spell. Talon sniffed, closing his eyes. The Whisper slipped from his lips and rolled off his tongue, vanishing into thin air as if it were nothing but a speck of dust-visible one moment and forever lost in the next.
The room gave a slight shake as the skeletal pirate burst forth from the polished wood floors, brandishing a curved, serrated-edge blade, a tough, Centurion-like helm and armor that consisted of a simple leather sword strap. Crawling partially from the hole it had created, the skeletal pirate glanced around, paused for a moment before shaking it's head.
He heard a creak, like the turning of gears.
Suddenly, the skeletal pirate threw itself out of the floor with as much upper body strength as it could muster (surprising, since it had no muscles) and rolled forwards, slashing towards the bed, the sword a glint of silver through the darkness, only seen by the sliver of moonlight that slipped in through Talon's nearly closed curtains. Talon was unable to see, but he heard the shuffling of cloth, and the skeletal pirate ducked. The soft glow of the moon highlighted a pair of short legs-no, the legs were long and bronze. Wires-were they wires-connected the joints, and from what Talon could see, as the person swung their legs over, the chest was a convoluted mess of gears-turning gears.
Clockwork.
Shuffle-stepping towards where he assumed the assailant was, Talon flicked through his options. He could take his usual, reckless, angry approach and smash through everything in his room in an attempt to destroy the intruder, but the person could be given a chance to flee before he had a chance to identify them.
Or kill them, Thalomir murmured.
"Shut up," Talon snarled, continuing to cycle through his options.
There was only one other option he could think of-be as efficient and as callous as possible. That would mean he'd have to be stealthy, maybe summon a few more pirates as a precaution. It may not warrant stress-relieving destruction, but he could at least have a chance to identify his opponent and maybe even find the owner of the clockwork.
Ah, to heck with it. He was too close to pick an option now. Instead, Talon just went for what felt natural.
The only spells he had for light-Divination he'd learned from Shina-may not be of much help since it wasn't his primary focus in terms of magic, but it worked-well enough, too-especially when an chain of electricity flew from his fingertips, arcing towards the skeletal pirate who leaped backwards, luring Talon's opponent into a trap. The clockwork leaned forward to push back the reanimated creature before it was thrown aside by the bolt of lightning, crashing into the bedside table and consequently shattering the oil lamp that had previously rest on the table.
Spinning the axe in his hand, Talon leapt forward, reaching out with his hand for something to grab. Landing on his knees, his fingers found a joint-a bronze limb. Tugging the limb towards him, electricity sparked in his hand, lighting the space between himself and the clockwork. He heard the clattering bones of the skeletal pirate as it loomed behind him, glaring at the clockwork Talon had grabbed. The door creaked open, and light from the outside hallways streamed in. Talon glanced behind him-Astra was standing in the doorway. She didn't speak.
Hell, she looked nice even in her pajamas, which were a nice ivory color adorned with images of purple and unusually colored black flowers.
Uh...back to the matter at hand. Talon snarled in the now-visible bronze automaton's face. "Clockwork...Who made you? Are you Katzenstein's?" Talon remembered Katzenstein. A Marleybonian-born scientist who was fairly well-acquainted with his father. According to Valdus, a distant relative of Talon's worked under Katzenstein, but Talon didn't know he had any cousins…or any distant relatives besides Thalomir, his grandfathers and great-grandfathers, of course.
The mouth of the clockwork squeaked open, the sound causing Talon to wince, his face contracting for a brief moment. The voice that flowed so smoothly from the clockwork was barely mechanical, stunning the Necromancer. What astounded him more, however, was the fact that a clockwork knew his name and was able to address him in a friendly manner.
"Talon..!" The voice was surprisingly cheerful. Talon frowned. "Hey, pal. Long time, no see, yeah?" The clockwork leaned slightly to the left, it's mechanical eyes whirring. "Ooh, who's the curvy redhead? Did you manage to get yourself a girl? Buddy...man, you do not seem like the type-"
"I'm not his 'girl'," Astra interjected bluntly, her voice sounding annoyed.
Ouch.
Talon turned to stare at Astra, and her eyes drifted over to him. She shrugged. "It's the truth." Talon opened his mouth to respond with a sarcastic comment, or even a flirtatious one, but decided instead to keep quiet.
The clockwork snickered. "Oh, she's feisty, too. I like that. Can I take her, kiddo?"
Astra strode over to the clockwork, her bare foot catching it in the face and sending its neck to the side. The automaton's neck was thrown aside with such force that a normal human would've either received whiplash or just died after their neck snapped. "No one talks to me like that," She hissed.
Talon cleared his throat, nearly choking on his saliva. Astra was a storm back when they were thirteen, but now that they were nineteen, she was...worse. Well, considering that she'd had her memories wiped (at least, he assumed she did) and assuming that the process of regaining them was emotionally draining, he semi-expected her to be...fierce. But she was far from tame. Especially now.
My wife was like that, too. Thalomir exclaimed suddenly. Granted, Phaedra was a street-born working woman, and there were many things she had to do that don't sit well with this generation, but...I think you made a good choice when you picked this one out, boy.
Talon bit back a smug smile.
The clockwork made a grunt of pain. "By the Moon, I'm so glad I'm a clockwork or that would hurt so much more…" It trailed off. Why did it sound so human? It couldn't be a clockwork, could it? But Talon didn't know of any magic that could turn people into things that weren't...human...or at least humanoid.
"Who are you?" He asked, pressing the blades of the crescent axe to the wiry neck of the metallic creation. "How do you know me?"
The clockwork made a hacking sound, as if it were trying to clear its throat. "Lemme start over, buddy." A mist-no, it was a cloud-began to swirl, gathering around the clockwork's body.
Astra stepped backwards, raising her fists and bending her back leg. A fighting stance? "Be careful, Talon," she said.
She remembered his name. Well, he did tell her to call him as such when she berated him for drinking the Coffee-Cola earlier that night, but...it was safe to assume that she remembered his name, right? "Okay," Talon responded simply, brandishing his axe. The skeletal pirate stood slightly behind Talon, feet on the bed, sword raised, ready to attack.
"So, do you remember me now?" The clockwork asked, though its entire body was obstructed by the thick, nearly solid gray cloud that seemed to orbit, or at the very least, surround the automaton.
"I can't see you." Talon murmured, sorting through a number of Whispers in his mind. Scarecrow. That sounded fun.
"This magic is always the worst when it comes to dramatic reveals," the clockwork said, though a clearly human hand stuck through the cloud, waving about blindly in an attempt to clear the thick, bland blanket of magic from the air. "At least it wasn't Moonspikes, right?"
Talon's eyes widened. "Moonspikes...no, you aren't…" He trailed off, lost in his own emotions.
"Finally, the damn cloud is gone!" The short man exclaimed. He clapped his hands together, the nostrils on his rat-like nose flaring. His teeth were still buck teeth, slightly larger than the other teeth that were visible when he gave that tight-lipped, greasy grin, but still hanging over the bottom row of his teeth. His hair was still messy and covered in some sort of substance that reminded Talon of the black powder that was put in chimneys. "Heya, Talon. Again, long time, no see."
Raht.
His speech was more fluid now. He used proper grammar. He made sense when he spoke. He didn't sound like a pirate.
That was the only thing that had changed.
Talon didn't even wait for Thalomir to tell him as he let out a roar of pure hatred and threw himself towards the "friend" he once had so long ago. "You-!" Talon didn't even finish his sentence as he swung the axe at the much shorter man. The 4'10" mousy pirate ducked, the crescent axe tearing through the wall instead of flesh, bone and brain like it should have.
Astra looped her arms around Talon's shoulders, pulling him back as he let out screams of absolute anger, spittle flying from his mouth. His crimson eyes glowed, unleashing a bright light as the man allowed his agony, his pain, his suffering and his spite to overwhelm him. Raht deserved it. Talon didn't take kindly to betrayal. "You framed me!" Talon bellowed. "I have a life sentence and you come back to taunt me!? You separate me from my brother and you come back to taunt me!?" Talon's voice didn't sound like his own as he finished. "You cause me to suffer, and you come back to taunt me!?" The Necromancer gave a final, agonizing, bloodcurdling shriek before he ran out of breath and chose instead to glare at Raht, panting and wheezing.
He still had some left in him.
Raht stared blankly at Talon, undeterred by the man's outburst. He tilted his head to the side, as if confused, and said, "That's a lotta hate, pal." He placed a hand on the still writhing Talon's shoulder, and spat in his face. "Do you think I care?" The shorter man buried his fingers in Talon's curly hair, bringing his face closer. His breath reeked of wet fur, and his eyes were hollow and emotionless. "I trick chumps like you every day-I steal from chumps like you everyday, so don't you think you have the right to preach to me about revenge, and hate and all." Raht's eyes narrowed. "Looks like you haven't changed at all, Talon."
"I'll kill you!" Talon roared, breaking an arm free from Astra's grip. With his free hand, he made a gesture, and the Whisper spilled forth from his mouth, and a spectral blade outlined in shadow flew from behind Raht, over his head, and embedded itself into Talon, vanishing the moment it touched him.
A Deathblade.
"Ahh!" Astra screamed as a sharp pain lanced through her head, causing her grip on Talon to weaken to the point where he was completely able to escape. The Conjurer pushed her palms against her temples, agonizing groans escaping her lips. The pain was crippling, and as Talon leapt towards Raht, skeletal hands rising from the ground to grip the shorter man's legs, Astra began to drown in a past memory.
"Astra…" A thirteen year old Talon whined as a laughing Astra dragged him along. It was his birthday, and Talon wasn't too keen on surprises, but Astra had one in her mind, just to spite him. Even though he completed her, she loved teasing him. He wasn't a pushover by any means, he was just...too nice sometimes.
It was why she liked him. His kindness. Talon didn't yell. Hell, he didn't even really fight. He probably could, he just didn't. He tried to reason with people. Violence was a last resort for him. Talon was gentle. Astra liked that. Maybe it was because she enjoyed being dominant, or maybe it was because all of the other people in her life made her feel worthless and inadequate, but Talon made her feel needed. He needed her. It was nice.
"C'mon, Talon, you'll like it!" Astra exclaimed in a teasing voice.
Talon frowned. "Astra, you know I don't like surprises…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 'So don't try me'? 'But for you, I'll change'? He figured it was better to say nothing.
Astra nodded, smiling. "I know, I know! But this is Marleybone! There's all kinds of fun here. We barely hang out anymore, and I want this to be fun." Pulling Talon along, she began to him happily as they neared the station.
"Is that sarcasm..?" Talon asked quietly, so she wouldn't hear. The question wasn't directed to anyone particular, just left hanging in the air.
Digmoore Station wasn't all that far from their neighborhood in Hyde Park, so Talon and Astra would travel there when they wanted to be with one another. They'd spend their time laughing at the elderly, then wondering what life would be like when they got older, and riding the train for as long as they could before they had to return home.
Nothing in the station could surprise Talon. Maybe.
"We're here!" Astra exclaimed, finally releasing Talon's arm. Her eyes were locked onto the signs that read where the train would be departing to that afternoon. Talon gave the girl a quizzical look.
"We always go here. What's the surprise?"
"There's a theater I want to go to. You were talking about it the other day, so I decided to take the initiative," Astra answered with a devilish grin. She produced a pair of theater tickets from her pocket, and Talon gawked.
"But-I thought the theater was adults only!"
"I have my ways, kiddo," Astra responded cheekily.
"Astra-!" Talon began, but Astra cut him off.
"Shut up! It's your birthday, isn't it? I promised I'd surprise you, so let's go before we miss the show!" Grabbing Talon by the arm once more, she pulled him onto the train, handing the conductor pre-purchased train tickets before sliding into a seat near the back of the car, Talon sitting next to her, looking nervous.
It was a while before either of them spoke. They had been silent for almost the entire train ride, as they were now roughly two minutes from their destination.
"What's wrong?" Astra finally asked, staring at Talon.
"I don't...I don't know what to say…" He murmured softly.
'Tell me you love me,' Astra thought to herself as she stared at him, wishing he would say something. 'Tell me you want to stay with me forever.'
"Astra, I-" Talon began, but was rudely interrupted by the horn of the train, the horn that notified the duo that they had arrived. Talon stood immediately, tapping Astra to let her know that they were here in case she didn't know. It was an overall unnecessary action, but Talon didn't care. "Looks like we're here. What show is it?"
"You'll see," Astra responded, ushering him off the train. The duo stood in front of the theater, gazing in awe at the massive building. There was a ticket booth before them, where a dog sat, hand in paw, looking incredibly drained.
Astra slid the tickets across the counter to the dog. "Are we late for the show?" The dog merely shrugged and shook his head, blinking slowly.
"Go on in," he said, not bothering to check whether they were adults or not.
Astra smiled, grabbing Talon's hand, and dragging him into the theater. "Let's hope we aren't late!" She hissed, her voice rising in pitch. She was excited. Talon returned her smile with one of his own.
"Thank you," he said, his voice gentle.
"It's-" Astra choked on her words. "It's no-no problem, man." She brushed her feelings aside as best she could. They were just friends, right? To make sure of this, she quickly released his arm from her tight grip. "Just come on..!" Astra exclaimed.
Talon's eyes were locked onto the stage as he show began, the expression lining his face a mixture of awe, adoration and excitement. Astra had never seen him like this.
The birthday surprise was well worth the money she had spent. If she got reprimanded when she returned home, that was okay. She would gladly trade in her happiness for Talon's. It was then that he leaned over, gave her a glance and then inquired, "Why do you do so much for me?"
Astra have a soft smile, her eyes sparkling. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. Maybe he would understand if she told him. But she refrained. What was holding her feelings back? Why couldn't she tell him how she felt? Instead, Astra turned away, averting her eyes. "It's because I think you're worth the time...Talon." Astra whispered.
"I think I love you," Talon said suddenly, still staring at Astra. His eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted. He was breathing heavily, and he looked terrified. Was this his first confession?
Astra would remember this moment. Or so she thought. The first time Talon had told her he loved her ended up being one of the greatest days she'd had her entire life. She felt complete, as if the empty space in her heart-her soul-had been filled.
"Stay with me," Astra responded, right before she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him.
The Conjurer was pulled back to reality. She didn't notice the tears that had rolled down her face, or the fact that they had hardened already and were simply dry streaks encrusted on her skin.
Astra's multicolored eyes were locked onto Talon as the Necromancer drove his fists into Raht's body. It was then that she realized that Talon-the way he was now-wasn't the person she'd fallen in love with. He was no longer gentle and caring, his once soft red eyes now crimson orbs that burned bright with hatred. He had become more confident, but this confidence was overshadowed by grief, anger and years of pain that threatened to overwhelm him. If the Talon Astra had fallen in love with was a gentle warrior, the one before her now was a hellion.
How sickening.
"Stop!" Astra yelled, grabbing Talon around the waist and hauling him backwards. Although he was mighty, she carried more physical strength than he did. It had always been that way. Talon writhed and flailed in her grip as Raht staggered to his feet, battered and bloody.
The shorter man wiped his now split lip with the back of his hand, speaking over Talon's yells and beast-like snarls. "Alright, I deserved that, I got it…" Raht gave a nod towards Astra. "Thanks for saving me," he murmured. "I didn't come here just to antagonize you, dude. I came with some gifts. Well, a gift, to be specific, but...y'know."
"Just because I'm not letting Talon kill you doesn't mean I'm comfortable having a stranger in my room," Astra responded. She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you here?"
Raht rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to see my buddy," he shook his head. "Can't a guy see a friend?"
"You don't seem like friends," Astra stated, her voice bland.
Raht chuckled. "Real perceptive, girl. You should become a detective. I hear they're hiring in Marleybone."
Astra was silent and Talon stopped struggling, panting.
"Anyways, I just wanted to stop by and give you this." Raht exclaimed, producing from a pack-it was previously shrouded beneath his cloak-a bundle of clothes tied together with a thick string. The clothes were dyed a deep, captivating black and a light purple. Stars decorated the clothing, giving it a more distinctive and comfortable appearance. "They call it 'Sidhe'." Raht said. "The clothing line, I mean." He dropped the bundle onto the floor before Astra's feet.
Astra opened her mouth to speak, but Talon beat her to the punch.
"You asshole," Talon began. "I thought you couldn't give two shits. You barge in here, preach about how you don't care, just to give me some fucking clothes? You..." Astra could feel the rage building inside Talon once more, and in response, she clamped her hand over his mouth.
"I don't give two shits. It's a gift. I need this off my hands, that's all." Raht answered, shaking his head. "This idiot always got mad…" He sighed, tapping his forehead.
"Why don't you want it?" Astra asked.
Raht shrugged. "I don't like it. I usually trash things I dislike, but I thought that I should give it to someone I dislike." He grinned. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Talon." He gave a nod towards Astra. "It was also very nice to see you, Beautiful."
Astra made a sound of disgust.
"See you in hell, loser," Raht exclaimed as a cloud of smoke swirled around him and his shape began to change, the sound of cracking branches filling the room before vanishing as abruptly as they had arrived. He had turned into a treant and fled before anyone could react accordingly.
Astra released Talon from her grip, and he rose to his feet, his anger abated. He gave Astra a glance, gazed out the window momentarily, then returned his attention to the Conjurer. The Necromancer reached for her. "Are you okay?" He asked, but Astra withdrew from his touch like a cat, suddenly feeling afraid.
"Don't touch me," she hissed.
Talon raised an eyebrow. "Astra, what-"
"You're not the person I fell in love with," Astra exclaimed, retreating a few steps. "You're not like you used to be."
"Astra, I-" Talon began, before he paused abruptly. "Wait. You remember?" He frowned, confused. When? How? Was it when she screamed in pain and let him go? No, it couldn't be...could it?
"I remember you...but you're not the same. You've changed. I don't love you anymore, Talon." Astra responded.
Talon sighed, inhaling deeply, steeling himself. He had to handle this calmly. Nothing good would come if he let his emotions drive him. As long as he remembered what Shina taught him...as long as he remembered. "I'm sorry, Astra," he began, exhaling. "But this is me now. I can't change."
Astra looked conflicted, her eyes sparkling with what Talon thought were tears. But when he blinked, there were no more tears, and her face gave away nothing. She said nothing, simply turned on her heel and left the room.
It was 11 hours into the evening. Talon had been free from jail and relative discomfort for three days. Astra had been his roommate for two days. A lot had happened in two days. And yet...
This was the second time in his life where he was truly lost.
...How do you feel? Thalomir's voice sounded concerned. That was rare. Talon would've appreciated the concern, but in truth, he had barely heard it. It could've been contempt, for all he knew. His vision blurred.
Talon found a sudden interest in his axe as it lay on the floor, placed almost perfectly next to the Sidhe gear. His shoulders rose and fell, and his legs shook uncontrollably. A tear fell from his eye, and landed on one of the blades on the crescent axe. "I don't know," Talon murmured, covering his face with his hands.
"Shadowspear, you're a Theurgist?" Eron nodded approvingly. "That's interesting." The draconian stroked his chin thoughtfully, sitting cross-legged inside of the Great Tree, Bartleby.
There was much activity around them now-wizards were exiting and entering the World Gate, but it wasn't much of a bother, as the duo was absorbed in their own conversation. It was late, maybe close to midnight. They had been at this for hours, just talking about nothing in particular, most of Leif's questions for Eron casually deflected or avoided. Leif almost forgot he had questions.
"You can just call me Leif. 'Shadowspear' seems a bit formal."
But Eron was far from formal. He was brash, demanding and blunt. "Aw, shut up-be proud of your name." Eron leaned in closer, holding up his index finger and lowering his voice to a slight snarl. Leif nearly fell backwards. "Your name is important. Your name tells people who you are. Your name is the thing that either strikes fear into the enemy, or makes them burst into laughter 'cause you're a joke. Pick one."
Leif laughed nervously. "You want me to pick? That...that's kinda...silly." Almost immediately, the Theurgist began to regret his decision as Eron frowned.
"I'm serious," The draconian responded, his voice still and devoid of inflection.
Leif chuckled nervously again, but nevertheless made a decision. "I guess I'd want people to run in fear if they heard my name." The Theurgist remembered his bullies, and the half-smile on his face vanished, replaced by fear and behind it, a buried desire to fight back. "Yeah," Leif said, his voice turning bitter. "Yeah, I want people to know my name."
"Good…" Eron murmured. "Good! That's it, man. That's it!" He stuck his fist into the air. "You're better off alone." Eron's own voice turned bitter as he continued. "I was like you once. I wanted to be nice, I wanted to be accepted. And then...well, I had a family, and now I don't." The draconian averted his eyes.
Leif frowned in confusion. "What's that mean?"
Eron shrugged. "I'm all alone now, dude." Pale yellow, reptilian eyes found Leif's. Leif was drawn in by the draconian's gaze. He wanted to know why. Eron sniffed. "It's better this way. Being on my own taught me a lot about the world around me."
"Like what?" Leif asked, hanging on Eron's every word. The conversation-no, Eron-was interesting. The amount of pride he had was amazing. The sheer emotion radiating from the reptilian's voice hit Leif like a torrent of water, throwing him off guard and leaving him in a state of shock. How could someone hold all of this emotion inside?
He didn't know, but it was truly fascinating. Leif was unable to tell whether or not Eron was lying-but it couldn't be the truth, could it? An exaggeration, possibly? No...but he wasn't lying. Better to be alone, huh? What a fascinating individual.
Eron shrugged. "I know that it's never safe out there, y'can't trust anyone-not even the people you're attracted to."
"What do you mean?" Leif inquired.
"They either use you for personal gain, or you're just a tool-part of the social status. You're there to uphold the reputation. You're there to provide information. You're a human shield, got me? No one cares. This whole entire world is full of hypocrisy and avarice-filled individuals. ...Worthless." Eron concluded, his gaze fixated on Leif.
Leif's eyes widened, and he nearly threw his arms in front of his body-he had to protect himself from this...this onslaught of ostracisation, cynicism and dissociation. It was terrifying, but Leif was drawn in anyways. Leif searched for the good in people and had been blessed with the ability to tell whether or not someone was lying. He always knew the truth, whether he wished to or not. And yet...nothing about Eron was a joke. Nothing was a lie. He was telling the truth, and his feelings were real. They weren't exactly feelings of hostility or negativity, but rather loss and the desire for companionship overshadowed by a...well, an insane amount of cynicism and an inability to stay attached to anyone or anything. "Hey, Eron..?" Leif murmured softly, his voice holding a great amount of concern for his reptilian friend.
"Heya, Chief," Eron answered almost automatically. "What's up, kid?" His voice wasn't upbeat, but
"Do you think we should talk about...uh...your feelings..?" Leif inquired tentatively.
Eron's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped an octave as soon as the words came from Leif's mouth. "What the fuck are you trying to say to me, Shadowspear?" Eron rose to his feet, snarling, his wings stretching wide, blocking a large portion of the light that hit Leif's face. The draconian's stagnant green scales were outlined in shadow, and Leif scrambled backwards, suddenly feeling incredibly small and worthless. "Huh? Are you telling me that I can't handle my problems?"
"No, I'm no-" Leif began, but Eron wasn't having it.
"No, you're not what? You little sh-I shouldn't have told you that. I shouldn't have told you any o'that. Y'know, it's my fault for tryin' to make friends… Shoulda just stayed dead...Shoulda just had my wings clipped...Shoulda never left…" Eron trailed off, his speech becoming more erratic and confusing for Leif, who began to notice that Eron's feelings were changing again. They began to fade away, as if blocked by something. But what was that something? Armor? Couldn't be-an emotional armor didn't exist.
And yet...what if the armor was metaphorical? What if...what if Eron was blocking out his feelings?
As Eron inched closer to Leif, his breath powerful and his eyes cloudy, Leif considered his options. He could be a man and fight this beast, this creature whom he knew little about, or he could flee. The smart choice would be to flee. The smart choice would be to run, maybe confront the issue later. Leif was always told he was smart. He was logical-he knew when to run and when not to. More often than not, he would run. He ran because he was outmatched; he ran because he was afraid and he ran because he wasn't strong enough.
He wasn't a man like the others. The people in his team-they were men. They were men. No matter how they looked-feminine, gangly, stout, short, draconian, Piggle...they were men.
Leif wasn't a man, was he? And besides, he wasn't feeling very smart.
"It's never good to run," Leif whispered softly.
"Huh?" Eron paused.
"I said," Leif responded, with more force behind his words. The Theurgist rose to his feet. "It's never good to run...Eron."
"First, you call me bitch-made, and now you're telling me that I can't do what I want? You're telling me what to do?" Eron hissed angrily.
Where the hell did he get that from?
Leif faltered. A possibly uncontrollable draconian who probably had more combat experience than Leif and could take him down with his bare hands...saying anything else would not be optimal. So, instead, Leif opted for silence as Eron advanced, bending his knees and bracing himself. Leif wasn't physically strong by any means-he was quite fragile-but he was a very skilled Theurgist, despite being only a Magus.
He could hold his own. Yeah. He could do it.
He wanted people to know his name, after all.
He was a man.
MW: And that's that. I hope you enjoyed this-it's the longest chapter yet, and I wrote it quite quickly. Lots of content and lots of relationships I wanted/needed to build and add in. The chemistry between Leif and Eron is beautiful-insults and friendly quips with a brotherly-but-not-quite relationship. Alright, onto Q&A.
Q: What the hell is up with Eron? One moment he's nice and the next he's cussing and angry.
A: Eron is emotionally volatile because he believes that all the people he trusts will end up using him and abandoning him, similar to how his father once did. Eron has also never had friends because he was fairly sheltered as a child. Eron is also a tortured soul-not as tortured as Talon-which is how I feel sometimes. Eron is very self-loathing, but at the same time, he is very proud of names because he believes that they represent a person's soul.
Q: Do Eron and Leif fight?
A: Hells yeah!
Q: Did Astra reject Talon?
A: Oh, yes. That was based off of one of my own experiences with a young woman who I was very infatuated with. I had told her I was in love with her (Of course, it wasn't love, as I know now), and she responded in kind, but about two weeks later, told me that she didn't actually feel the same, said so to make me happy and thought of me as an ostentatious flirt and, to put it simply, called me a bitch and ceased contact.
Q: Are your characters (Talon, Eron and more) metaphors/representations of how you feel?
A: Yes. Talon is the angry, cynical, misanthropic/loving, rebellious, inquisitive side of me, and Eron is the brash, loud, ostracized, violent (and homosexual) side of me. If you have not noticed, I-like Talon-am bisexual.
Q: What happened to the war? It seems like a subplot now.
A: The war is not a subplot, but it is relatively background for now. It becomes more important as the story continues. The next chapter will be about team building, and then suddenly, the thirteenth chapter thrusts the characters into the war and things get violent and hectic.
Q: Where does your inspiration come from?
A: For character relationships, it's both what was submitted and my own experiences. Some of it comes from my desires and my wishes-who I want to be, how I want to be, what I want to be, and some of it is from the stories I read, games I play (specifically The Witcher, Fate/Stay Night, and Wizard101 itself), and some of it is from the things I see.