What's this? Uploading more than one mini series in a row? Madness!
This is 2 shot I did as part of a collaboration with AlmostAstrid on DeviantArt. More info and relevant links will be at the end.
Rumble rumble rumble...Crack BOOM!
19 year old Alan Lane watched the skies from his perch on top of the church tower with great interest. Towards the south the sky was covered in dark clouds, but there was a long, thin gap of clear sky between them. That gap had slowly been closing for the last few hours, with thunder continuously cracking and lightning flashing.
Alan laughed to himself as forked lightning flashed again from the left side, not quite reaching the gap of sunshine.
"Wow, they're not even trying to be subtle." he remarked, still chuckling. He crossed his dark clad legs and tapped his red and white trainers with long, pale fingers. "You'd think they were trying to attract attention."
"What are you doing up there?!"
Alan craned his head down, flattening his hair down as some brown strands got in the way of his equally brown eyes. Below him in the church yard was a girl about the same age as him with even paler skin than him and an irritated expression in her rose coloured eyes.
"Hey Tundra!" Alan called down, and Tandra folded her arms, still looking annoyed.
"You're going to get in trouble if someone spots you." she warned, not even a lip twitch at the nickname as she fiddled with the keys on her belt instead, clinking against her 19th century style glasses. She did not have an Irish accent like Alan, instead her accent leant more towards Indian. Although she did like to emulate a hodge podge of cultures.
"They're too busy watching that." Alan nodded towards the two storms. "The two sides are starting to get going. How long to think it will take for them to finally get started, huh?" Alan's face bore an amused grin.
"It's not funny. It's a civil war!" Tandra waved a purple clad arm in frustration, disturbing her red, white fringed scarf and with her other hand on her hip. The only thing that kept her scarf from flying off completely was a round, silver broach inlaid with spherical livers of glass, with three ovals of glass hanging from it.
"No need to be such a downer." Alan said dismissively. "Come up and watch the show. No one will notice."
"Alan, seriously, come down from there!"
"It's such a good view though!" Alan protested, unfolding his legs and having them dangle over the brickwork. His red and blue checked shirt sleeves brushed along the asphalt roof as he leaned back in the mid afternoon sun. The storms hadn't reached where they were, so the normal sun was still shining, with it being just cool enough for Alan to take. The breeze that was kicking up was enough to make any of Tandra's white hair that wasn't firmly tied back shiver. Her baggy blue trousers joined them in their rebellion, fluttering in a half hearted attempt to escape her knee high black boots.
"How long do you think they'll take showing off before they actually start fighting?" Alan looked back down at an indignant Tandra.
"What does it matter? It's not our business. Alan, please just come down from there."
"Alright, alright." Alan relented, deciding that it was best not to try and goad her into flying up to him. Instead he swivelled himself around and dropped off the side of the building, landing and rolling to take off the impact. He came back up with leaves in his hair and spent a few seconds brushing them out and straightening his shirt and trousers.
Tandra helped pick out the leaves, knowing how much Alan cared about his appearance and not being able to hold on to her annoyance long enough to not help.
Alan flattened his hair down once again, failing to notice when one section in the middle sprang right back up again.
"Alright, so if we can't watch from up there, how about we get ourselves a ringside seat?" Alan's grin became mischievous.
"Alan." Tandra groaned.
"Come on! They'll be too busy fighting each other to notice we're there. How many people get to watch a battle like that? Aaaand, we can report it back to the Heads." he wheedled.
"We could get in a lot of trouble." Tandra was tempted, but she wasn't as willing to break the rules as Alan.
"Yeah, alright. We might get chewed out, we might have to clean up the Mess Hall. But it'll be worth it."
"No, Alan. I'm going to watch. Sorry." Tandra shook her head, purple earrings swinging as she took a step back and folded her arms across her chest, just above her dark red corset.
Alan shrugged. "Alright. Your loss. I'm going to get a front row seat to the battle of the century!" he cried, turning on his heel and walking out of the churchyard. "Don't wait up."
Tandra clicked her tongue, annoyed at Alan's cocky attitude. "It's a war, not a cinema!"
"Relax Tundra. Like I said, they're too busy trying to ram their egos down each other's throats to notice me." Alan had turned around and was now walking backwards.
"Just, be careful."
"Sure Ma." Alan responded, half mocking, half genuine. "See ya!"
Tandra sat in the meeting hall of the Belfast Branch, listening to the Branch leader read off a short list of events that had happened in the Descendant world. A short list, because beyond petty squabbles interesting things rarely happened. The civil war with the Descendants of Mother Nature being an exception.
Although, she was struggling to keep up. The Branch leader was a Descendant of Bunnymund, so naturally had an Australian accent, however it was also mixed with a strong Irish one, making it near impossible to understand unless you were born and raised in Ireland, which Tandra had not been.
She fiddled with one of her hooped earrings before looking around. The Belfast Branch was one of the larger Branches in Europe, with a current total of nine members, all sitting on folding metal chairs in a small, concrete walled room with florescent strip lighting. Except one of those nine members was missing.
She leaned towards one of the nearby Descendants, a Descendant of Toothiana like her. Bella was her name.
"Have you seen Alan?" Tandra asked, whispering.
Bella shook her head, dark hair waving in tandem like a rippling curtain. "Not since yesterday. Why?"
A creeping dread crept over Tandra. Alan may well be right and was just enjoying the show, and yet her conscience had been niggling her in the back of her mind ever since he left. She couldn't leave him! It was going to turn into a warzone, who knows what could happen?
Bella noticed her younger girl's apprehension. "He's probably alright. Alan only usually turns up half the time to these meetings. He's probably halfway a tree somewhere bird watching or something."
Tandra nodded, only half listening. "I'm going to go find him."
"Tandra, it's probably not worth worrying about." Bella started, but Tandra was up and off, sprinting out of the room, leaving a bemused Branch behind her. In the back of her mind as she felt her feet pound the hardwood floor was that she was glad that they didn't train in here as well.
She took the old, complaining, wooden stairs two at a time, bursting out from below the abandoned pub with a shove on the stubborn door. Once out she stumbled into the deserted, seemingly abandoned street and then turned towards the southern horizon. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the two thunderstorms hadn't met yet, but they weren't far off. She had half an hour at best to find him.
It was late afternoon and there was no one around, so she decided to risk it. Running again to get some momentum she unbuttoned her broach and whipped off her scarf, folding the garment neatly into a small square and tucking it into her sleeve with her broach in a clenched fist. Finally she unfurled her wings, the feathers of which were as white as her hair.
Reflex made her want to press them against her back again and she couldn't help by glance around to see if anyone was watching. No one was of course, she'd already checked, not to mention that that was the point of where the meeting place was, but she couldn't help it.
Using the momentum from running Tandra took off into the air with a slight wobble. Given the colour of wings she was always tentative about flying, and it showed. Therefore she lacked the skill that other Descendants her age had, but it was quicker than walking.
She made a quick stop at her university dorm to drop off her broach and collect her sword, strapping it to the same belt that held her glasses and keys before flying off again. Her sword was a firangi, an Indian cavalry sword which had a straight, 90cm, double sided blade with an Indian basket hilt. On the scabbard and the hilt were four silver swirls with a red oval in the middle on a purple background.
It was identical to the decoration on a headdress that sat on her desk, as both were heirlooms. However, the headdress had the addition of further curve along the top with a smaller red jewel in the middle and a purple triangular portion over the forehead, lined with a silver border and with yet another red jewel hanging front the peak of the triangle.
"Moon damn it Alan." she muttered under her breath as she flew as fast as she could towards the two storms, the winds picking up as she got closer. She didn't want to come armed, but she had read the report from when Head Davies had gone to the Descendants of Mother Nature for aid eight or nine years ago. Long story short, the Descendants of Mother Nature do not trust Descendants of Jack Frost, which was what Alan was.
As she got closer to the upcoming battlefield, closer to the storms and the howling wind she reached for her belt. Another effect of her albinism was that her eyesight wasn't as good as fellow Descendants of Toothiana, so she put her glasses on her nose, pressing them into place in order to scan for Alan.
From here she could see both sides of the upcoming battle, two groups of roughly fifty slowly creeping towards each other. Both were in pale green armour which didn't quite meld with the emerald green hills, with one side sporting bright red plumes on their helmets. At the back of both parties stood a group of five Descendants, who were the ones controlling the storm.
Naturally, Alan was hiding in the shrubbery not too far from the red plumes.
Tandra was well aware that she stood out in the stormy sky, so landed far away and ran the rest of the way. There was no rain thankfully, so her booted feet trod surely on the grass before diving down beside Alan on her stomach, breathing heavily from the exercise.
"Hey Tundra." Alan looked over, beaming. The wind had messed up his hair and there were grass stains on his checked shirt, but he didn't seem to care. "Glad you could make it, it looks like they're about to start."
"If they find us here we are dead." Tandra hissed, removing her glasses and clipping them furiously back on her belt. "We need to go, now."
"Aw come on! They're about to start, it's history Tandra!"
"We'll be history if we don't go. Descendants of Mother Nature do not trust Descendants of Jack Frost, so let's not push it!"
"They're not going to find us. Lighten up Tundra." Alan shifted his position slightly.
"I will drag you back if I have to!" Tandra's voice was starting to become louder as she became more agitated. "If they find us then we're going to have a hard time talking our way out of it!"
"Tandra!" Alan hissed, waving his hands in a downward direction. "Keep it down!"
The bush above them rustled, silencing the pair. They craned their heads up in near perfect unison, both filled with a sudden sense of impending doom.
Above them peered a Descendant in full armour, which was a little different in style to HOG armour. The biggest immediate difference was the solid metal visor on this Descendant's helmet, with only a horizontal slit for vision, as opposed to HOG's clear visor. Luminous green eyes could be seen looking at the two Descendants who were lying on the ground.
"Am I interrupting something?" the voice was male, and had a faint Teutonic accent.
Alan and Tandra looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes, then upon a non verbal agreement they scrambled to their feet and started to run.
The armoured Descendant spun his hands clockwise and pulled them towards him, causing the wind to turn towards them and pick up to such a degree that the two HOG Descendants were stopped in their tracks, unable to proceed at any reasonable pace as the wind buffeted against them.
Both Descendants mentally cursed as a metal covered hand grabbed them by the back of their shirts and pulled them up off the ground. Neither of them were exactly short, but this guy was a good half a metre taller than them.
"What the hell?! Come on let go!" Alan yelled, wriggling and squirming like a fish on a line in the older Descendant's grip.
"Okay, this is overkill, we were leaving!" Tandra wasn't making as big of a fuss as Alan, but she was panicked as well.
"Two Descendants spying on us? Uh huh, I'm gonna let you two go on your way."
"It's not like we saw anything!" Alan protested, grabbing the taller Descendant's hands with his own, still struggling.
"You saw numbers, that's enough. How do I know you're not gonna run to the other side and tell them?"
"You can see each other quite clearly from the other side of the valley." Tandra tried to be the voice of reason, but her voice was pitching up in fear. "They don't need us for that."
"They can't tell battle strategy and weapons from that side." the tone of voice signalled finality in the conversation as they started to reach the other red plumed Descendants.
Alan started to full on panic, remembering what Tandra had told him earlier. He struggled harder, kicking and twisting frantically, grasping at the other Descendant's gauntlets to try and loosen the grip. "Oh I am not dealing with this!"
Frost formed on the gauntlets and the armoured Descendant growled, dropping Alan immediately.
Alan made to run, but paused once he realised that Tandra hadn't been let go. The armoured Descendant's now free hand also crackled with electricity and was pointed in Alan's direction. This act caught the attention of the other Descendants, especially as the one who was still holding Tandra growled out a word.
"Frostling."
Tandra couldn't help but a snort a little. It was said so seriously, but was so cheesy that she couldn't quite take the term seriously. Alan meanwhile took a step back, any laughter at the phrase dying and his eyes darting as they were now surrounded by a group of ten armoured Descendants, each one armed to the teeth. The other forty odd were still preparing for battle, not that they weren't bristling with weapons either.
"Found these two spying on us from a bush." The Descendant holding Tandra dropped her as he explained, quickly grabbing her sword hilt and drawing it before handing it to someone else.
Tandra and Alan quickly assessed the situation. They were outnumbered, so fighting their way out wasn't an option, and the wind was too turbulent to make any kind of air escape safe, not to mention the lightning.
Alan slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a purple orb the size of a marble. A Smoke, enough to get them both away, except it would mean leaving behind Tandra's sword. Alan knew it was an heirloom, otherwise he'd be more willing to leave it behind.
Alan's hand clenched around the Smoke. It was his fault Tandra was in this mess, so he was going to get her out of it, sword and all.
"Look, okay." Alan spoke up, getting everyone's attention. "We were in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, if you let us be on our way, with my friend's sword, we won't tell anyone we were here. We'd get in trouble anyway, so we don't have much of a reason to tell anyone."
Alan had turned on the charm, smiling, using his hands and acting incredibly relaxed, so both he and Tandra were surprised at the snort of disbelief.
"Really?" asked a new voice, female this time, but it was difficult to distinguish who was talking. "A storm front battlefield? Excellent place for a date."
Alan's pale face flushed slightly while Tandra clapped a hand to her forehead.
"Not a date." she muttered. "Definitely not a date."
"To be fair." Alan recovered. "You lot were not exactly being subtle. This is history in the making! Who wouldn't want a ringside seat?"
One of the armoured Descendants lost control and started laughing. "A-any sane person!" they cried, still laughing. "Why would you go to a battlefield for fun?"
Tandra took over, as the famed Irish Gift of the Gab seemed to failing Alan. "Look, this is the sort of stuff he likes. Bit of a history nut, so the chance of seeing a historical battle was too good to pass up."
Alan shot Tandra a grateful look before he continued where she left off. "See, just a misunderstanding. We'll be on our and we don't ever have to mention that this happened. Okay?"
Alan took a step towards the guy holding Tandra's sword, but that Descendant took a step back and a spear came down, blocking Alan.
"Nice try kid, but don't think we'll believe anything that comes out of your mouth." Another one of the armoured Descendants stepped forward, poking Alan in the chest. "Anything that you manage to spew from your cakehole is bound to be rubbish."
Alan swallowed nervously as he looked up at the taller Descendant, the red feathered plume shuddering in the wind as the other red plumes agreed with the statement, similar sentiments colouring the air.
'Tricksters' 'Trouble makers' 'Liars' 'Just wants to start a stupid snowball fight' Were just a few of the words and phrases that could be made out in the sudden clamour.
Tandra meanwhile felt her fists clench. How dare they. How dare they make judgements like that about Alan. Sure he could be arrogant and one hell of a prankster when he put his mind to it, but a liar at a time like this?
"Leave him alone." she said, voice full of barely hidden fury, which cut through the din. "He's done nothing but tell the truth the entire time and you turn on him! Why?!"
"He's a Descendant of Jack Frost." was the answer, spoken as if it explained everything. For them it might, but for Tandra it wasn't nearly enough justification.
Alan was much more surprised than Tandra, and was also starting to feel anger in his belly, growing at an exponential rate.
"What the hell?!" he cried, gesturing with his hands wildly. "Just because Jack Frost is my many times great uncle or something means that I'm some lying, untrustworthy areshole?! That's bull!"
"And the true colours show." snorted another of the armoured Descendants.
Tandra put a hand on Alan's shoulder, making him jump from the sudden heat and her to struggle not to flinch from the cold emanating off him. She was angry too, but now was not the time or place.
"It would make sense for other side to use a frostling." someone said. "Since they're so pro for what our late High Overseer stood for." they added with disgust.
"Long may High Overseer Mallon reign!" yelled someone at the back, and a cheer of agreement went up through the ranks, even from those that weren't part of the confrontation.
Alan and Tandra looked at each other as the red plumed Descendants of Mother Nature roared in unison. They were surrounded by wind, water and lightning powered bigots who were armed to the teeth. Chances of getting out in one piece were slim.
So, yes, this follows an older Alan Lane, who appears in both Black Sheep and Severance (bit roles mind you). None of the chapters he's in are up on FF, but I don't think that's much of an issue, given that this is his first proper outing.
Tandra is originally from a Branch in India, but is staying in Belfast for a bit.
Tandra belongs to AlmostAstrid, and... darn it! Links aren't working. Okay, my DA username is the same me FF one, you'll find them in my Favourites. Sorry.
She also did a full scene piece, which was her part of the collab, but I'll save that for the next part. Also, explanations for what's going on with the Descendants of Mother Nature will be in the next part.