Music Choices: Lateralus by Tool, Roots by Really Slow Motion / Instrumental Core
Author's Notes: Whoof! Finally. Lol.
Eclipse
Chapter 28
The Raid Part IX: Final
Distant shouts reached her ears, echoing off the previously sterile walls of the prison. Her partner had begun, and she would keep most of their attention for now. By the time they were done here tonight? There would be no more walls. No more prison. And the prisoners would be in the wind, where they belonged.
To get to that point, however, they needed to move quickly; and in her opinion, she was already running a few seconds behind.
Stealth had, and would always be, her greatest asset. Even in the limelight, she only ever showed her opponents and allies alike what she wanted them to see. Her enemies only ever perceived the hilt of the blade. By the time they realized it was already buried in their stomach? It was always too late.
While Joan was making a spectacular, spaghetti mess out of the bewildered King's forces, Nwyfre was already inside the prison complex. After the demise of the other caravan, she had caught a ride via Nevermore directly over the largely concealed buildings; and sky-dropped down, completely unseen.
She'd slipped past their patrols like smoke over water, leaving nary a ripple to betray her presence. Because while they had a lovely surplus of nasty little surprises, up to and including experimental aural tracing technology and infrared cameras, they did not have much in terms of magical defenses.
And in a war on magic and the free people, well. That was just plain foolish.
Suddenly, two armored guards bolted past her, completely unaware of her presence. They were too focused on their mission to notice the distortion in the air, trailing after them. They needed to get around the large, cylindrical space that took up most of the prison and get to the other side in quick order; to do that, they were sprinting through the Hard Light energy fields whose cloud of nanites had been programmed to recognize their individual auras and allowed them to pass through.
The fields had clapped down a few moments earlier, after Joan had started her attack; and for a few humiliating seconds, Nwyfre had found herself trapped between them. She hadn't spotted them to be honest, because the new Hard Light tech was getting so discrete these days. Atlas was churning out lighter, sleeker and more powerful technology at an alarming rate. If this is what their competitors were getting, she was loath to think what they had available to them; it was something they'd have to keep an eye on.
However, it seemed her momentary embarrassment was over, thanks to her new friends and the wonders of black magic. The wonderful thing about magic was that it's potential - and therefore, what the practitioner was ultimately capable of - was technically limitless. Hecate supplied all her children with the tools and ingredients necessary to utilize magic, not just the Aetheri. She gave them everything they needed to take power back for themselves, whether they knew it or not.
Their only responsibility was to find the knowledge necessary to safely and responsibly wield it. Which was, especially in this day and age, extremely difficult. And dangerous. Like with
Semblances, there was always a cost to using magic, in some form or fashion.
The more serious and complex the spell, the higher that cost. Therefore, you could never use magic lightly; because, as the people she was here to help could tell you, you never knew with absolute certainty just who or what was watching you.
Unfortunately for the person in front of her, the cost to drain them of their aura and wear it like a party hat for a few moments was not actually as high as one might hope.
The first guard had already run through and out of range when Nwyfre snagged his partner, slipping a nigh invisible wire around his ankle and pulling him to the ground. She was on him before he even hit the tile, the black and red etchings of the rune-stave slapping quickly onto the back of his neck, like tar. He didn't even get a chance to scream out a warning, before being rendered unconscious.
The rune-stave activated at the first taste of blood, coming alive instantly; and it promptly funneled the majority of the man's aura through the stave's mystic circuitry to it's twin, placed strategically on the back of Nwyfre's own neck.
She didn't hesitate, instantly activating the man's aura. Orange waves coated her limbs, a nauseating, alien sensation that threatened to give her whiplash. If she wasn't careful, her own aura could backwash into his body; but the protections woven into her own spiritual form kept her grounded, body and soul.
Still, without the helm, it would be unsafe for her to maintain this spell for very long. She was greatly limited in her magical potency without it. However, wearing it would have been a dead giveaway. So, she went without.
The ground shook again, and the lights flickered as the backup generators kicked on. Nwyfre darted forward, passing through the first Hard Light field of many without so much as a tickle. The other guard hadn't even heard anything over the commotion that Joan was causing, and was still sprinting doggedly ahead.
She slipped a butterfly knife into his carotid as she passed him, riding death's wings. He dropped mid run, his hands going to his throat in confusion as he suddenly found himself choking on his own blood. His aura had activated too little too late. She didn't look back as he slumped over onto the tiles and fought to stay alive.
Below her feet, the ground shook. There was more menace to it this time, as Joan really got into her stride. There were actual screams ahead of her now, both human and metal, as the other woman began to turn the foundations of the world against itself; but Nwyfre wasn't going towards the chaos and bloodshed for once. Because despite all of her power, Joan had a serious limit; especially when she was channeling something as potent as gravity Dust through her Semblance.
She could handle herself for a few minutes; but after a certain point, even aura boosters wouldn't give her the control she needed to keep from turning the region into a literal spatial anomaly. Like most people with broken Semblances, the raw power of Joan's own Semblance would run away with her eventually when amplified like this; it had happened before, and when it had, it had nearly killed them both.
Obviously, Nwyfre was aware that she needed to get to the control nexus yesterday . If not, she might have to render Joan unconscious. Which, speaking from personal experience, was very hard.
Next to impossible, actually.
She passed through the next barrier, the pull of the man's aura growing genuinely uncomfortable. However, it was not unbearable ; so she grit her teeth, and ran, briefly activating the Dust glyphs woven into her shoes and clothes.
There were three more Hard Light barriers to go, before she reached the outer shell of the dome. Suddenly, something mechanical whirred as she continued on her mad dash through the long hall - it was likely someone in the security nexus had noticed the guards mysteriously collapsing - and had activated the weapons system protecting the hallway. Or, perhaps it had detected her in some other way.
She weaved instinctively, before the bullets started to really fly. Two short turrets with stubby barrels had popped up out the ground in front of her, protecting the second to last barrier. It was clearly a short range weapons system of some kind, and could likely track and predict her movements; especially if it could see her thermal image or the flared aura that she was borrowing.
She exhaled as she leapt upwards, twisting and arching in a path spurred on by brief, expertly calculated flashburns of Dust glyphs; she flung a barrage Dust kunai as she soared past the turrets at breakneck speeds. She didn't look back, aware that she had destroyed their barrels completely and was already focusing on the next of turrets protecting the last of the Hard Light barriers.
These were already firing at her glowing outline; so she whipped out the end of a kunai rope dart, one that had been nestled in her impossibly deep pockets. The Dust infused weapon channeled the stolen orange of the man's Semblance; and passed through the Hard Light barrier faster than the speed of sound. It anchored into the wall immediately, and with a final flare, Nwyfre burned out the last of her Dust glyphs in her shoes; and passed through the barrier.
The stolen aura soaked a few bullets, but held until she was through and she let go of it immediately. She didn't want the magical repercussions of using up all his aura. Even still, she nearly vomited from the feed-back, and barely managed to keep her lunch down.
Many of her other Semblance glyphs and magic staves were reaching criticality as well. The assault on the caravan had taken a large portion of her effort. However, she still had enough to see her through, and was on schedule once again. On the other side of the wall to her left was what she'd dubbed the pit.
She had managed to scope out the building's overall structure using thermal imaging and night vision, but it couldn't actually see through walls. However, where the pit was, there had been a big cold spot which stood out in comparison to the temperature of the land around it. A big blue void, clearly unnatural. She technically didn't know what was inside the pit; but that's what her new toy was for.
Tormund, as frustrating as he could be at times, could not be accused of being a stingy man. Especially after outfitting them for tonight's mission; and with the extra carrying limit she had thanks to Taiyang, she could haul far more than she'd ever be able to normally. So she pulled a through-wall radar out of her cargo pocket, courtesy of the Atlassian black market; and got to work taking a look at the pit.
After a beat, Nwyfre scowled beneath her mask. She did not like the pit. The pit was bullshit.
The pit was a logistical nightmare. However, it was absolutely where they were keeping the prisoners. She could see them.
Yet, if she was being honest with herself, she likely could not do this alone. At least not without her Semblance, helm, or other typical means.
Sighing, she tapped the mirror piece near her mouth, taped beneath her party mask.
"Milkshake, come in."
There was a pause. One much longer than average; and Nwyfre could feel it, a static mounting in the air. Something was up. Summer always answered promptly, almost annoyingly fast at times.
"Summer?"
She could feel the hairs on her arms standing up.
"Nwyfre!"
Yep. Something was definitely wrong.
She inhaled. She exhaled.
"What's wrong?" she asked, instinctively putting on her Morrigan voice. Maintaining the illusion of control.
"Nwyfre, Raven and Qrow-"
Oh fuck.
"-are really, really hurt!"
A barrage of terrifying imagery flooded through her mind, before she forced the gates close.
"What do you mean by that? Be specific, Summer," she instructed quickly. "Details."
Summer sounded like she was on the verge of panicking. It was hard to remember at times that Summer wasn't even in her twenties yet. None of them were. In the grand scheme of things, no matter what they said, they were still babies.
Goddess, be kind to us your children.
"Qrow's - he's unconscious! Some kind of poison or venom, I don't know what it is! He couldn't move or talk, and now he's unconscious-"
"Summer. Take a deep breath," Nwyfre interrupted, keeping her voice steady. "Breath. In and count to four. Then out. Repeat."
Over the hallowed void of the mirror-ways, she could hear the little faunus gasp in. Held. Let it out.
"Ok-"
"Have you found the source of his poisoning? Was it a gas, a needle puncture, a what?"
"I've been looking, I can't- wait. There's a cut under his armpit! It's the only thing I've found, but it's not swollen up or anything!"
Unlikely, then, that it was venom in his system; but it was impossible to truly say yet.
"How is his breathing and heartbeat?" Nwyfre asked, forcing herself to speak slowly, for her sake. "Have you injected him with aura boosters yet?"
"His breathing is slow, but steady, his lungs aren't paralyzed. Or his heart, his heart is ok for now. And he- he isn't foaming or clammy - I have him laying on his side so if he gets sick, it, he won't choke-"
Nwyfre closed her eyes, took a deep breath and counted to four, before letting herself speak again.
"That's good Summer, you're doing good," Nwyfre said with far more confidence that she felt. "What about the boosters?"
"His Semblance is up! Haha, he just got me, actually-"
"Another good sign," Nwyfre said quickly, checking behind her. She could hear an explosion on the side of prison where Joan was raising hell. "That means he has enough aura reserved for his Semblance to still run; give him two doses and see how he reacts. Stay with him, and call your father. Tormund can get to you faster than Joan or I can, and is equipped to deal with potential poisoning. Now, what happened to Raven?"
"We're treating her for hypovolemic shock-"
Goddess, be kind.
"-we got to her faster, but she's lost so much blood and had no aura left, so the boosters are taking a long time! She had to pull the knife out - it was the man from earlier, I fucking know it! The bastard used the knife I threw at him- "
"Summer? You have to stay calm-"
"H-Her heart stopped earlier and - this is all my fault !"
Chills over her skin.
"No it isn't. But you have to stay grounded. You have to, you don't have a choice," Nwyfre persisted. On the see-through, she counted more guards heading Joan's way. "You're the leader, and leaders don't get the luxury of breaking down in the middle of crisis. We do it afterwards. It sucks, but it's the price we pay. Now focus. What are you doing to replace her blood supply? Where was the injury?"
Let it be a limb. Gods, just let it be a limb.
A limb they could at least get a tourniquet on, and had less complex tissues and organs for the aura to focus on than the torso; if it was her stomach or intestines, then there was potential of her going septic as well.
"He hit her thigh -it's really ugly, but we got a tourniquet on!"
Nwyfre let out a pained sigh; it would be obtuse to call it relieved.
"Tai's a universal donor! We've got them hooked up right now, and have plenty of bags left!"
Grimm and ash, they were doing a whole blood transfusion in the fucking field without a proper healer.
"Do you know how to do that safely?" she prompted. The ground shook again.
She was out of time.
"Taiyang does!"
Nwyfre breathed. She needed to make a decision. Not in a minute, not in a few seconds. Right now.
Fall back? Or push forwards? Briefly, her children's words from earlier flickered across the busy passages of her mind.
This was an agony. If she caved now though, despite her every desire to rush away, scoop them up and ferry them somewhere safe, then everything else would have been for nothing.
Worse than that, actually. Because if they lost this many skinchangers here and now? Then ultimately, the free people of Remnant would lose to the rapidly approaching winds of annihilation. They would be whole-sale sacrificed to grease the gears that climbed ever higher with every passing year.
An inevitability perhaps; but one she would push back against with all her might for as long as she possibly could.
"Ok. I need you and Taiyang to keep them safe, and to call Tormund. Joan and I will handle things from here."
"But, wait, how will you guys get out? Shouldn't we-"
Nwyfre interrupted her a final time.
"Summer? It's all going to be ok. I've got it. I promise."
Before the little faunus could say anything else, Nwyfre pulled the see-through back from the wall, already formulating her entrance strategy.
She had no way of knowing, of course; but one day, one not even that far away from this very moment, Nwyfre would find herself once again saying these exact same words to her future daughter in law.
She wouldn't end up breaking that promise, either.
Bellicose watched the live footage of two guards mysteriously and suddenly dropping, one after the other. One of whom was likely not going to be getting back up again, from the looks of it. Seconds later, turrets in the west walk-way activated, started firing and were swiftly wrecked.
It all happened so fast, a near invisible blitz that would be largely inexplicable without context. The infrared couldn't see anything at all, at least not yet; however, the sensor array for the turrets tracked more than heat or aura that wasn't on the white-list. They tracked changes in air pressure and direction as well. They could feel the skeletal breath stalking ever closer, when no one else could.
Alwyn's own eyes were glued to the screen where the other, far more explosive masked intruder was trampling over their comrades. He had given up trying to hail Verdant, Regalia or anyone else from the chain of command. He hadn't noticed anything in the west walk-way yet.
Bellicose glanced down at the cells in the dome. There were a few curious skin changers nosing close to the barriers of their individual cells; they could feel the rumbling from Joan's onslaught, and they were all growing restless. Bell knew that, technically, they should put them all down into a nap with the fun-time gas; if they were all unconscious, then they couldn't all be rescued. At least not very easily.
They refrained from doing so; and while Alwyn was looking at the light show, Bellicose quietly locked out the controls for the dome's depressurizing equipment.
The entire building quaked as the masked figure rearranged the facility's infrastructure as if she was playing with silly-putty; sand castles at the beach, washed away instantly by the lap of waves and gravity. At this rate, there would be no one left to oppose her.
On the few camera screens that remained functional, Joan was a halo of burning Dust, heatwaves and debris. Ten remaining Service members were doing their absolute damnedest to stop her, unleashing the full might of their own Semblances and arsenal.
Glowing fractals of Dust lit up as they orbited the nexus of destruction being unleashed upon them. Ashes and soil rained down from the sky, while entire chunks of building levitated out and up to meet it. Water pipes wider than they were tall burst and coiled out of the ground, sending gouts of fluid upwards. The asphalt in the garage and surrounding area had begun to melt. Thick coils of electrical wiring were bubbling up to the surface and lashing out anyone within striking distance. One person was scattered into atomic ashes when a telekinetic whip of violet energy snaked out and erased him from existence.
Alwyn looked like he was on the verge of vomiting or rushing out of the control center to join the fight; for the most part, however, he looked like he was succumbing to despair.
Even with all their Semblances. Even with all their bullets and training. Even with the entire might of the crown behind them. There was nothing any of them could do in the face of a righteously pissed off archangel.
She was beautiful.
Bellicose glanced back down into the dome, and noticed that things were not how they'd left them. Alarms suddenly lit up across the control panel, as various equipment malfunctions sprang to life.
"What's happenin!" Alwyn barked, tearing his eyes away from the carnage. Bell sniffed.
"We're being sabotaged, I believe."
"The fuck- what do you mean, believe!?" Alwyn rolled frantically over to them, heterochromatic eyes wide. "Who's doin it?! The thing upstairs?"
Bellicose pointed with a tattooed finger at the dark, flitting form below them who was furiously dismantling all their weaponry at breakneck speeds.
"Nope."
"SHIT!" Alwyn snarled, turning on them. "Don't just sit there, do somethin, damnit!"
Bellicose stared at the multitude of flashing lights, listened to the automatic firing of the turrets within the dome, and met the eyes of some of the people in the cells below them. In their fingers was the worn zippo that they'd had for most of their adult life. After a breath, they set it down on the countertop.
"Hmm. No."
Alwyn whipped on them fast and without hesitation, the barrel of his .45 pressing into their temple. Bellicose couldn't keep the smirk from their face as they glanced his way.
"What are ya doin, Bell?" Alwyn growled ominously.
"Nothing," Bellicose chirped lightly. "I am doing quite literally nothing. It's kind of nice, actually. You should try it, too."
"I will blow your brains out right here, you treasonous fuckin worm. You do know that right?" Alwyn asked coldly.
"Sorry, Al. But you were always a bit too slow," Bellicose winked, and activated their Semblance as Alwyn pulled the trigger.
The round flew through them as Bellicose faded from visibility, their body becoming both permeable and translucent. Ghost-like. Alwyn started shooting randomly, determined to still hit them.
After a moment, he gave up and focused on the person hell bent on breaking all their gear and stealing their new recruits; he tried to engage the units responsible for lowering air pressure in the space, in an attempt to choke out the furious shadow tearing its way frantically around the hailstorm of weapons fire that was the dome.
They were locked out, and the only person who could have done it, or fixed it, had just ghosted away.
"Bell when we find you, you're fuckin dead! You and Addy both, you know that!" Alwyn roared. "Never, ever stop runnin you piece of worm riddled shit-"
His gruff snarl died in his throat suddenly, and he was forced to look down. A knife had been translucently inserted into his neck and rematerialized.
"Like I said," Bellicose drawled, before ripping the knife free. A spurt of life's blood rained across the bullet proof observation glass. "Too slow."
Alwyn coughed, clapping his hands to his neck as he bled out; the gurgling was awful.
Bellicose kicked the pistol well out of range, shoved him over and out of their way, and took complete control of the nexus. They unlocked the pressurized hatch and opened it, to let in their new guest while actively working to disable the rest of the turrets inside the dome.
Long range communications had just returned, meaning that the people below were running out of time to escape. Reinforcements would arrive quickly, especially if the King activated any secret military units he had on standby. They wouldn't ask him too many questions, nor report their findings to the Council; most of the military was loyal to the King and resented the Council's meddling, after all.
The hairs on the back of their nape rose, but they didn't turn around to look at the shadow behind them. They raised their empty, bloody palms instead.
"I didn't get to choose to be a part of any of this. You know?" they insisted quietly. "I just want a way out for me and my fiancé. That's it."
A tense silence. Bellicose hadn't been so aware of their own heartbeat in years.
"I just want a way out."
Another second passed, before a blood spattered card with odd markings sketched on its surface was pressed into their lapel. Bellicose's eyebrows rose in brief confusion.
"For you and your fiancé, then," the Morrigan rasped. "Now. Run ."
Bellicose didn't need to be told twice. They took the card and threw themself into their second skin, taking on the shape of a small bat, before activating their Semblance again; they quickly ghosted up and out of the dome, phasing through the trembling ground and steel.
When they broke free of the prison's destabilizing walls, they bee-lined straight for the Kingdom without looking back once.
The cell's barriers were open now, but there was nowhere yet to go. Nwyfre panted harshly, her ribs burning from where a Fire Dust round had grazed her and left a scalding trail over her skin. It had fortunately cauterized, but it still hurt like a menace. That wasn't the only injury she'd sustained, either, and her aura was legitimately low; even after the boosters she'd injected.
She was getting slow in her old age, apparently. Not that she was even that old.
The majority of the prisoners were all young people, some as young as five; the oldest was likely in his late thirties. Nwyfre didn't need to be told by her people what had happened to the older generation shifters that the King's Service had reportedly captured. It was in their eyes, in the frightened lines of their faces. The elders who would not submit, convert or be made useful were certainly all dead.
Fury burned in the pit of her stomach.
They were going to pay for this. She and the other chieftains would make sure of it.
Meanwhile, above them, the facility was being reduced to the foundations. Joan had likely reached a nearly critical state and Nwyfre needed to get to her; before the woman collapsed into an anomalous event. However, Nwyfre could at this point barely keep herself upright.
A grinding noise erupted suddenly, far too close for comfort; instinctively, the Morrigan ushered her people away from the collapsing granite, steel and soil. She knew that if worse came to worse right now, and she had to fight an out of control Joan Arc in this condition, she'd lose.
She shoved her fingers into her cargo pockets, hunting for more aura boosters. She'd used most of them during her assault on the other caravan, and then all but one during her mad dash around the pit.
So far, she had managed to not use her Semblance, despite everything else. She wasn't entirely sure there were any cameras left functioning at this point, considering she'd disabled half of them herself. However, if she had to, then they needed to collectively get somewhere without cameras.
The point where she had entered the pit was still open, the door having had its hinges eaten through. As the dome rumbled and shuddered, light fixtures breaking loose and falling to the ground, Nwyfre guided the seventy or so free people into the tunnel from which she came earlier. The rogue Service member from earlier had opened the way for them, by disabling the Hard Light barriers, turrets and other security measures; the walk-way was completely open.
"Go!" Nwyfre barked. "Get clear of her! She's bringing it all down!"
The shifters didn't need to be told twice. Many of them changed skins and charged ahead, while others stayed in their human guises and carried those who could not keep up. She hung back, waiting.
The pit began to dismantle as the shape of space bent and warped, collapsing the vile structure. Nwyfre was not entirely certain that Joan was even aware she was destroying the building at this point; she had no way of knowing the other woman's state of mind. At this stage? She couldn't even get close to her without being evaporated.
At least there were no cameras left. Not anymore. Grimm, in a few more seconds, there wasn't going to be anything left. Including herself.
"JO!" Nwyfre shouted up at the orb of chaos that was her partner. She couldn't even see her in all of that; just the blinding luminescence of Dust and raw power. "STOP!"
The ground underneath her feet bucked, and Nwyfre leaped away, dodging as entire chunks of rock and steel broke free from their anchors and lifted skyward. The Morrigan streaked over the floating debris, dodging immense, jagged shards of metal and glass; until something cracked against her back and she stumbled.
"JO! COME BACK!" she shouted. She could barely even hear herself over the devouring storm of light and gravity. "YOU'RE STRONGER THAN THIS! SNAP OUT OF IT!"
The orb hovered in the center of the pit. Any second now, Nwyfre expected herself to get dragged off the debris that she was clinging to and be dismantled on an atomic level.
Then, suddenly, everything froze in mid flight. Nwyfre coughed as dust and dirt clogged her nose, trying to see as the orb of Dust fueled light and fury dimmed. Objects began to fall to the ground again, and Nwyfre rolled out of the way as chunks of concrete plummeted down where she had been moments previously.
Where the pit had been, there was now only devastation that had torn it's way upwards and out. Moonlight was actually reaching the ground; Joan had blown a hole out of the mountain top, like a volcano.
Nwyfre looked up, trying to see in the newly sundered crevice that had split the mountain. A black gloved hand appeared in front of her, one covered in ash and soil. She looked up and met the face of her partner, part of whom's mask had been blown off in the chaos. Her eyes were still glowing as her Semblance cooled down and Dust was released slowly.
"Sorry about that - I...I got a bit lost," Joan apologized, her voice hoarse. "Are you alright?"
Nwyfre accepted the hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her aching feet.
"Never better," she droned, before allowing a relieved huff to escape. "But, I'll admit. You had me going there for a moment."
Joan had the decency to look abashed as she tilted her head to look upwards.
"I know. I'm sorry."
Nwyfre scoffed, before clapping an awkward hand on her partner's shoulder, letting it rest there for a brief moment.
"Tch. Don't worry about it."
Joan glanced away from the devastation, her eyes focusing as she collected herself.
"Has something gone wrong? Where is STRQ?" Joan asked, her tone concerned as she glanced towards the still standing tunnel.
Nwyfre inhaled, preparing herself mentally to explain the situation, when a familiar noise caught her attention. The two women stared at the sudden appearance of the black and red vortex, spinning quietly behind them. She let out a relieved, exhausted sigh at the sight of it. It seemed that Raven was alive and well enough to use her Semblance.
"I'll explain later," she said, moving towards the walkway. She spotted several frightened faces staring back at her, not all of them human. "Hey! It's clear now and our ride's here! Let's move - before reinforcements arrive!"
As the skinchangers immediately darted back out of the tunnel, and without too much guidance on Nwyfre and Joan's part, began to swiftly evacuate through the portal to the predetermined safe-zone. The pair took a moment to sit down on a slab of concrete, back to back as they kept an eye out for more danger and tried to catch their breath.
"...Gods," Joan started to chuckle, something light and sharp that broke through the dust clotted air. "I am tired . I think I may be getting old, Nwyfre."
Nwyfre leaned into her back, the two of them sitting briefly as they tried to recover. After a moment, she started to chuckle quietly.
"Well. If I'd pushed out twenty fucking kids faster than an assembly line, I'd probably be pretty beat, too."
Joan's mouth dropped in outrage, even as a genuine bark of laughter escaped.
"You brat! I do not have twenty kids!"
"Fine, fine," Nwyfre drawled, hiding the amused glint in her eyes and teeth. "Sixteen. Whatever. What, did you and Thompson think you could birth an army to take over the world? If they all take after you, though, I couldn't see that working. They'd all be too bossy."
Joan reached back and swatted at her, prompting a devious snicker.
"It's five," Joan insisted firmly. "I have five daughters. That's not that many kids. And I'm not having any more."
"Uh huh. You said that last time."
Joan huffed, pushing at the sweat droplets beading behind her own mask.
"You weren't even here last time."
Her tone was mostly humorous, but the accusation lingered under the surface. Nwyfre shrugged her shoulders slightly.
"I didn't need to be. I know."
There was a slight pang in her heart at that, but she let it drift. She knew they needed to get up and move, now that most of the free folk were through Raven's portal. However, she also knew that this would be the last time her and her oldest friend would likely fight side by side; trying to right a wrong together.
The next time they met, for all she knew, it could very well be in opposition. Again.
"...I'm tired, too. Jo."
The little paladin nodded after a pause.
"But listen," Nwyfre tilted her head back to glance at her, still wearing her mask. "Things are getting worse out there. Much worse than when we were kids."
Blue orbs met grey.
"I know," Joan acknowledged.
"This?" Nwyfre gestured to the open cells. The last of the free people, the ones who had waited to let the youngest children go through first, were trickling away. "This isn't the end. Things are about to escalate. Because we're the canaries in the fucking Dust mines Jo, and we always have been."
Joan looked back out at the cells. The cages, really. They could fancy them up, but that's what they fucking were.
"By the time the free people stop singing completely? Every Kingdom on Remnant is going to be chucking their undesirables over the walls, telling themselves it's to keep the dark at bay. "
Joan inhaled slowly, a familiar gleam entering her eyes. It was the one she got when she started to pluck at pieces of information, and weave together a pattern out of the evidence presented to her; the look she got when she was hunting for something. Or someone.
"And I think they've already started."