Chapter 2: Into the Storm.

Marceline regretted her idea to come outside. With her younger friend dangling beneath her as she carried him with both arms for better balance while flying, the vampire buzzed low to the ground. She opted to stay near the tree line, as it provided only some relief from the rain that had gone from a heavy but steady drizzle, to a torrential downpour. Her tattered grey trench had kept her dark shirt from getting completely soaked, which was good for modesty. Unfortunately, she had nothing to protect her hair which was now sticking wetly to everything it touched, and the coats constant whipping about in the wind meant that the bottom half of her pants were soaked as well. Finn was an even worse sight. He was drenched from head to foot, and she could visibly see the goose pimples on the backs of his legs, from where his old, torn shorts offered no protection from the biting wind or stinging rain. She felt a pang of guilt at noticing the state he was in, as it had been her bright idea to insist that they venture fourth into the weather for no other reason than her own amusement. Worse yet, Finn's drenched fur hat made him smell like a wet bear. Not that he seemed to mind, but Marceline was less than fond of the smell of wet bear.

Dangling like a sack of soggy potatoes, Finn daydreamed about nothing in particular, barely feeling the wind or the rain, and hardly noticing the ground zipping by under his feet. Without warning however, his view changed, and he was swung outward, only then realizing that Marceline had been flying them next to a rather steep, and rather deep gorge. Looking around, now quite focused, he turned as best he could to look behind them, only then hearing her speak up, for the first time in several minutes, save for some occasional grumbling about the rain. "Tree branch.", she explained. It was hardly a lucid account to inform him why he had suddenly been swung over a harrowing drop, but he understood her perfectly. She had swerved to avoid hitting one. Sometimes Finn forgot what an amazing feat of speed, skill, and science-bending magical power it truly to be carried around by a flying mythological creature. As a child, it had been one of the most incredible experiences. Even though he would never admit it to his brother, flying with Marceline was every bit as awesome as riding a magic dog, and maybe a tad more so. Sure Jake could grow to impressive sizes, and his extremely flexible legs made almost anywhere easily accessible, but Marceline. Could. Fly. Truly, it was an admirable quality in a friend. Furthermore, her vampiric strength meant that even now, as he had nearly doubled in height and gained noticeable breadth as well, she could still carry him as if he weighed less than a half full sack of flower. In short, his weight was an afterthought to her. Sometimes it was a wonder to the young man, how she didn't forget she was actually carrying him altogether, and let him slip, when he was quieted by his inattentive mind, as he all to often was.

He continued to dangle in silence for another two miles or so, which, given the speed at which his mode of transport was traveling, blurred by rather quickly. Finally, the drenched hero spoke up. "Hey, Marcy... Where we goin, anyway?" At this, she pointed towards a series of craggy rocks at the base of the nearby mountains, dangling him, momentarily, by one arm. Even after years, it still created a bit of a jumping sensation in his stomach.

"Right up ahead!', she shouted, over the increasingly nasty weather. 'We can find shelter in the cliffs! Even though I guess the weather can't really get much worse!' Just then, a bright flash lit up the gray sky. Marceline groaned in frustration, even as a loud clap of thunder cascaded over them, nearly one with the wind itself. Picking up speed, she flew, full-bore, towards the cliffs, arriving in less than a minute. Gently letting Finn down under a large outcropping on one side, she flew across to the other and began spinning and twirling in mid air, blindingly fast. Water slung in every direction, loudly splattering against the cliff walls and slopping onto the dirt path beneath her. It wouldn't be enough to completely dry her off by any means, but it was likely better than anything that could be done for poor Finn. Off all the times she had forgotten to bring her umbrella. Then again, she thought, landing softly, and staring out at the rain in a mix of wonder and disgust, as fast as she had been flying, it would have been a waste, and unlike her, Finn didn't mind getting a little wet now and then. Even so, she did feel bad for dragging him out into the storm. As if to punctuate her sentiments, another bolt of lighting flashed, and was followed immediately by a loud clap of thunder. She sighed, unable to avoid the tinge of guilt that was eating at her. 'Hey... Finn?", she turned around, and stopped cold.

Having moved from the far corner where he had been dropped off, the young adventurer now sat on a fallen rock slab, roughly in the middle of the sheltered pathway. His shirt and hat had, at some point since she'd left him, come off. The hat lay on the rock next to him, slowly dripping into the dirt, and he clutched his shirt firmly with both hands, twisting it and wringing out the water as best he could. Marceline's breath caught in her throat, and she stared. She couldn't remember the last time his hair had been that long. Though sopping wet, and hugging his shoulders and back, it came down almost to his legs. His bare chest shone slick from the rain, and looking beyond the small waterfall coming from out of his shirt, she noticed that he had a rather defined abdomen. Tickling him earlier, she had felt the hardness of his muscles, but was even then, unable to picture anything but the body of a pale and slightly doughy 13 year old boy. She had certainly not been ready to see such a rugged figure, tanned and toned, as he had grown into. Just then, he turned to look at her. Suddenly, and quite inexplicably, the half demoness found herself self-consciously running her fingers through her hair, trying in vain to straighten the frizzy strands. "Yeah? What's up?", Finn asked, evenly, staring at her with curious, deep blue eyes.

Caught off guard, Marceline turned away. As someone with no pulse, she was beginning to feel fed up with this business of blood rushing up to her face. As for the odd fluttering sensation in her chest, (her heart, if she remembered right), well, that was just going to have to stop! Why was she even feeling so strange about it. It was only Finn, and not like... a real guy, or anything "Marcy?', he called again? Everything alright?" She whirled around, snapping back into the moment. That's right. She had spoken to him. What had she been about to say? She couldn't remember.

"N-nothing!", she stammered, louder than she had intended too, turning away again, and focusing on the view. They were higher up than she realized, and Marceline would have been able to see for quite a ways, if not for the rain. She wasn't sure if Finn was going for her weak attempt to redact the conversation before it started, but judging by his silence, he wasn't going to press her. After a few moments, the rapid dripping and splattering of him wringing out his shirt subsided, and she heard a wet slap reverberate off the stone walls. She could only guess this meant he had thrown it onto the rock. for the time. After enjoying the view some more, she turned around, this time ready for the sight of Finn's adult body... Or so she thought until she saw him standing there in nothing but his striped boxers, with his his shorts firmly in hand, and being wrung out into the puddle that his shirt had made. Marceline said nothing. She didn't jerk, or move, or make any sound of protest. She merely blinked rapidly, as if the very sight were nothing more than an illusion created by something in her eyes. When she had failed to de-age the young man from the chiseled, lean, warrior, back to the squishy 13 year old she was convinced the man before her was hiding, she silently turned around, sighed, and allowed the stagnant blood to paint her face the bright shade of red she knew it must be. Okay... she thought, calmly. Your body wants you to blush. Whatevs. No big deal. There was a pause, as she allowed her mind time to collect the overflow of buzzing thoughts, and make some sense of them. It did so in short order, and produced a new thought which she tried desperately to suppress, but was barely able to filter into a less drastic, more conservative thought. She stole a glance back at the human, who was now gripping his pants with both hands, shaking them up and down and watching the water fly off. Okay, Marcy, she told herself. You might... MIGHT... she paused, not wanting to continued the thought. It continued itself for her. You MAY of MAY NOT have to deal with the fact that Finn... yes, THAT Finn, MAY, or MAY NOT, be- she cut herself off, physically shaking her head. Nope! Not going there! It's Finn, for Grodssake! FINN! Regardless of what was buried deep within him, or what he looked like, he was literally just a stupid mortal! He was her friend, sure, but mortals were mostly for amusement; like younger siblings, she supposed. Furthermore, when she had first met Finn, she had designated him as prime minion material. A minion could never be... The girls thoughts trailed off, and by and by, she became aware that Finn had stopped wringing out his clothes and was staring out into the rain, a strange and unsettling focus and intensity in his eyes.

"Marcy...", he intoned, his voice low, and wary.

"What is it, Finn?', she asked, gladly accepting anything to take her mind off the internal struggle in her head. In response to her, the nearly naked warrior said nothing, but merely looked up into the rain and clouds. She followed his gaze, but saw nothing except the wet and grey of Ooo's rainy season. 'What?!", she pushed again, growing impatient. Again, Finn said nothing. He simply held his hand up, closing his eyes, and standing far more still, and far more focused than she could ever remember having seen him.

She shuffled her feet, restlessly. "Quite!", he hissed, just as another flash of lighting briefly illuminated them in a pale glow, and a loud clap of thunder, shook the very stone of the mountain. He probably hadn't meant to sound as harsh as he had; he was very clearly deep in concentration. Even so, Marceline wanted to growl in frustration. She wanted to take him by the hand, toss him over the cliff and into the rain, catch him by the leg and then shake him till words came out. Instead, she quietly acquiesced, standing still, and silent, watching him. She had never seen him in such a state of perfect concentration; so resolute and undistracted. In her mind, he should be finding a rhythm in the rain dripping onto the rocks, wetly spitting a beat, and banging the pommel of one of his swords into the rock, refusing to stop until she surrendered her vocal talents to make his nonsensical noise into a song. Instead, he was being patient, and focused. What had happened to the boy who had been lazily slapping his gut on her couch, the boy she had known since his childhood? What had become of the boy who had made six years; a footnote in her enduring and seemingly endless lifespan, seem like a lifetime all it's own.

The weird thoughts were creeping in again. Then there was another flash of lighting. Then there was another clap of thunder. Then she finally heard what he had been listening for. Right there, on the end of the thunder clap, there was another noise. It was so much like the thunder, that even her superior vampire ears had trouble distinguishing it. Had Finn, a mortal, really noticed it before her? She wanted to be embarrassed with herself, but curiosity, both at what it was, and how he had picked up on it so quickly, left no room for the useless sentiment. More wind, more rain, then the lightening, then the thunder, and then the sound came again. A low, but clipped thud, as if something very large and very heavy had taken a hard step. Marceline was one of the only vampires in Ooo, and quite possibly one of the only left on the entire planet. What's more, she was the daughter of the ruler of the entire Nightosphere, and it's unquestioned heiress. Very few things sent a shiver down her spine. That sound; a sound that she had not heard since a time before Finn, was one them.

Standing next to her, the young male smiled, his eyes shooting open, now full of a burning intensity. His body quivered in excitement. "Finally', he muttered, under his breath. Without even seeing him move, he had retrieved his backpack. 'Marcy...', he said, his voice jovial, yet inexplicably dangerous. 'I think we just found that adventure you wanted."

She wanted to tell him not to be stupid. She wanted to tell him that there were things he didn't understand. But the look in his eye said he knew exactly what was going on. And he was more than prepared... He was ready. Marceline told herself that she was ready as well. She was certainly prepared. But she knew all to well what was coming, and it had always been one of her least favorite things to confront.

There was another flash of lighting, another rumble of thunder, and then another, louder noise, this time, audibly separate from the other sounds of the weather. That was when the first storm giant to appear in Ooo in over 90 years, broke the misty veil of clouds and rain, hurtling towards them.