Yo.
This is a pretty long chapter and I didn't even end it where I wanted. To be honest I wanted to end it on a pretty sweet note, right? But now...
Things they are a happenin.
Dont worry though, it'll lighten up again in the next one. And you get some serious badass points, so I mean.
I'm still working on my battle scenes too! ! ! I've learned it's very hard to get the mood /style I want without huge walls or text. I'm still working on it, but that's what this is for, right?
Speaking of which! ! If y'all wanna write / draw / create something inspired by any one of my fics, I would cry. Honestly, it would make my week. Do it.
Draw yourself being carried around by War.
Draw your OC chillin with Strife.
Write about how great Fury is despite being a super strict teacher.
Try to replicate your headcanon of Death's handwriting.
I would put a bunch of hearts here but ffnet is rude.
War ignores your complaints as you continue, only listening when you make suggestions like "use the bomb" and "we're about to be mugged".
He gives you that look when the demons appear anyway, which you just brush off as the usual War irritability. He takes out the big guy while you dance around the lesser demons and jab at them, muttering curses under your breath.
Demons are so annoying. You think, nearly folding in on yourself by the time they're all gone. It seems your ribs do not appreciate the stress you're putting them under. You lean heavily against your halberd and try to focus on your breathing.
"Advisor." War growls, moving to your side.
You get that he's trying to be nice, but that tone just rubs you the wrong way. You find yourself angrier than expected, now glaring at the Horseman. "It's fine!" You snap. "I sorta hurt myself earlier, but like I said, I'm fine."
His sneer is much scarier than anything you can dish out, but you try to hold your ground nonetheless. "Fine."
You keep yourself defiant even when he turns away, trying your damnedest to ignore the horrible feeling in your stomach and the prickling behind your eyes. I am not crying. It's just stress, you remind yourself. Death warned you the first few months were gonna be hard.
It's definitely not because your favorite character probably wants to murder you now.
You take a deep breath and turn on your heel, "I'm gonna go see if Vulgrim will appear without you there! I'm sure you can handle the puzzles."
War makes no effort to stop you, and you try not to take it as a personal offense. It's not like you wanted him to stop you. That would just make this situation even shittier than it already is, you know that logically and yet... Your heart disagrees.
"Ugh." You growl, stomping back through the cathedral. Only one bat tries to stop you, which you quickly shoot down. You don't even bother to kill it (which you regret not a second later) as you slam the door behind you.
Vulgrim is not waiting when you arrive, and five minutes of pacing around his circle is completely fruitless. It's for the best though, as you scrub at your eyes the entire time. Hopefully you can blame the rain for your disheveled appearance.
You're just really fucking homesick for your world and for the other Horseman and for a sense of normalcy, is the problem. And Death warned you it would be hard. He explained that this lifestyle isn't for everyone and it's without a doubt not for humans, but its your responsibility now.
You just hate that you're acting exactly like he said you would when it gets too much, having mood swings and lashing out and crying, for gods sake. You feel horrible about it too, knowing that it's no ones fault. Aside from maybe the Council's. Fucking Charred Council.
You collapse onto the cracked pavement, pulling your legs up under your chin. What else did Death say? How to calm down?
'Distract yourself. Concentrate on concretes, not variables.' You pretend you can hear him coaching you, although the specifics are hard to remember now. You should've paid more attention, but Strife and Fury made it seem as if he were being overly cautious.
Okay, distract yourself. You think, trying to find something that could hold your interest.
Let's start with... Death? Why does he know all this stuff anyway? It is canon that Death was the only one that felt remorse for their genocide though, and you know for a fact he isn't as icy as he seems. Maybe he's been in the same position as you, although you can't picture Death looking half as pitiful as you're certain you do right now.
...It's sort of comforting to think though. The great Death, eldest of the Horseman, having the same kind of trouble you're experiencing.
You hang onto that until you calm down a bit more, finally managing to get to your feet and stretch out. Your shoulder cracks when you do so, and your ribs don't seem to be much better.
Knowing this might be the only time you'll get to look it over without War hanging over your shoulder, you move to the complete other side of the cathedral and carefully take off your shirt.
"Holy fuck." You breathe, poking at the now blue-ish skin. God, do you hope it isn't as bad as it looks. You very carefully feel the potentially broken ribs, making certain they're not moving or something equally horrifying. "Oh, thank god." You sigh in relief when you find nothing. It is rather painful though.
Now content your ribs are either bruised or cracked, you turn your attention to your arm/hand, which is a beautiful purplish blue color at the moment. You check out the superficial abrasions for signs of infection (none, thankfully) before deciding you're in the clear and slipping the same shirt back on.
Setting your halberd down, you root around in your backpack a bit before you find the bottle of pain relievers and down a few. You know better than to use an ace bandage or something for your ribs, and your arm is only severely bruised. You'll survive.
You pick your weapon back up with a sigh and try to prepare yourself for seeing War again. He's probably already killed the jailer by now, what with how much time you've wasted freaking the fuck out.
You almost regret leaving him alone so much, but you reason there's plenty of opportunities for you to do reckless shit in the future. And it's not like there's a shortage of reckless things to do in this world. For example, leaning over a river of lava and contemplating your apparent heat resistance. You decide not to risk it at the last second, darting out to the courtyard where you left War.
The boss... Seal is still up, so you figure it hasn't been too long since you were separated, but you know yourself well enough not to try and venture into the deeper parts of the castle all by yourself. Goodness knows where you would end up, what with your horrible sense of direction.
So you settle down again, and begin scrawling out another letter to Death that isn't so much as a reply or update as it is just you venting. He'll understand.
It feels like hours before you feel the cathedral shift under your feet, probably War doing something particularly destructive. You take it as a good sign though and turn back to your letter.
It's only a short time after that (three paragraphs and a doodle of Ruin) that War finally returns, the rumbling from the elevator giving you more than enough forewarning to put your stuff away.
War seems unsurprised when he sees you, criss cross apple sauce on the floor in front of Tiamat's door and soaked to the bone, but his scowl is still in place.
"Dramatic." You chirp.
Rather than answer, he glides past you and shoves the door open. Shadow seeps out while you hastily ascend the steps, giggling, "You've angered him, Glitch."
"Yeah, fuck you too, I got it." You hiss.
"Such language!" It seems rather proud of itself for stirring up such a strong reaction. "You hearing this, dog?" It asks War. The horseman simply shoves it off and continues up the stairs.
You roll your eyes. "Can you say something useful or is that too much to ask at this point?" Sick burn, you congratulate yourself silently. It only sweetens it when Shadow makes that hissing noise and leaves the two of you alone again.
'Alone again' isn't nearly as nice as it sounds though, considering its raining cats and guts (thanks for that, Tiamat), there's blood all over the fucking place, and it looks like this entire structure is going to collapse at any second.
Not to mention how horribly creaky Tiamat's voice is. "Have the Council reduced the Horseman to common assassins?"
She slinks down from her roost, and you're abruptly aware of how big this creature is. You shrink behind War as she continues, "Or has Samael bought or loyalty? Because if you are for sale, Rider... Perhaps we can strike a deal."
"You won't like my terms." War responds, completely fearless. Goodness gracious. You press a hand to your cheek.
She stops directly in front of the two of you, and it still takes her a moment to register your presence. War draws ChaosEater as she circles around to look at you properly. "And who is this? A human pet?"
You grimace, "Not quite."
"Then you're his keeper? Can I entice you, little one?" She laughs, the sound sending shivers down your spine. You never really noticed how scary a giant bat was in game, but one of her claws is probably the same size as your arm and if that's not the scariest thing you've ever seen...
"What? No." You stutter, scrambling farther away from her.
She heaves a sigh, as if she had actually hoped you'd agree or something. "This will not end well, for either of you." Taking to the sky, she becomes marginally less frightening.
"The bombs." You say to War, still too shaken up to manage a complete sentence.
He nods, giving you the strangest look before turning away. "Stay out of her sight."
Was that... Concern? You ask yourself, very carefully making your way over to the other side of the battlefield. You wonder if this is really the time to be trying to figure out whether or not War actually cares for you or not, but then you remember there's rarely a time you're not being actively hunted down. Perks of hanging out with doomsday Horseman.
You skirt around the edges as they begin the actual battle, dodging the fireballs she spits out and again questioning her status as 'bat queen'. Bats don't use pyromancy (or whatever the hell you'd call this). Although admittedly, there's not really a way to use echo location in battle, unless you bend the rules and allow her to stun you or something.
Huh.
You find yourself next to one of the many bombs, and you're completely unable to keep yourself from poking at it. It's not active, you remind yourself, running your finger tips over the strangely smooth spines covering it. Demons have some weird technology.
It is pretty light though, you notice. You can easily hold it in one hand, despite the fact it's bigger than your head. You use the spines as grips.
"Are you sure you should be handling that?" A voice suddenly hisses.
You go rigid, relaxing only when you recognize the fingers now caressing your injured shoulder mock affectionately. "Ugh."
Shadow snickers, "What did you do without us, Advisor?"
"Sobbed." You answer with a roll of your eyes. "I just missed your creepy gaze so much, I was beside myself. Good thing brother Death responded to my letter, right?" You're lying through your teeth at this point, just testing its reaction.
This makes it pause, all its eyes narrowing. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Well, you're not wrong. "How so?" You hum, returning your gaze to the bomb as if Shadow is not worth your undivided attention.
This seems to seriously annoy it, and all the way across the roof War freezes. In the middle of battle. Your eyes go wide. There's no doubt in your mind that Shadow is using its magic. "Shadow."
It just laughs, while you rush to War's side and bring your halberd up to block Tiamat's claws. It doesn't work very well, but it's better than letting War take the hit head on. Her talons get caught on the pole of your weapon, only her longest claws grazing your waist. Your chains react near instantly and you're enveloped in a bright white light that makes the bat queen screech in pain.
It's all in crystal clear bullet time, Tiamat trying to pull away, Shadow laughing, and smell the burning flesh. But most importantly, you can feel the light this time, as if it's a part of yourself. With the tiniest movement, Tiamat loses the hand she struck you with.
She clambers backwards with a noise that makes your ears ring, and War is yanking you behind him not a second later but holy shit.
Thrumming with adrenaline, you smile.
You very carefully make your way back to a reasonably safe place as War finishes the fight, which is apparently much easier now that she's missing a hand. She does spit a few more fireballs though, one of which is aimed for you rather than War. You just barely manage to escape and resist the urge to flip her off. Strife would've be disappointed.
Speaking of Strife, you have to wonder what he'll do when he sees your scars... Things are not looking well for War.
Things are also not looking well for this outfit. You shield yourself best you can when War makes it rain fucking demon blood and tosses her wings. One gets uncomfortably close to yourself, but you're not certain you want to move quite yet.
"Do it! Tear out her heart while she still lives, I want to hear her scream!" Shadow orders, more excited than you've ever heard it.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
"I am.. One of the Chosen... I can grant... Your every wish." Tiamat promises.
You never really thought about how hard it is to hear someone plead for their life, even if they are a horrible, murderous demon. You want to be happy, because this is a step towards the end and goodness knows she deserves atonement, but...
All you feel is sad and injured.
You block out the rest of the conversation, sitting down as you did earlier with your knees brought to your chest. Your halberd hums, and although you can't concentrate enough to figure out what it's trying to say, you find it comforting.
War scoops you up without hesitation this time, muttering something you don't quite catch.
You tilt your head up, "What?"
"Yellow." He states, moving to the edge of the battlefield. You don't even question what he's looking for at this point.
"Yellow." You mimic, nodding. You have absolutely no idea what he means by this, but hell if you're going to risk irritating him now that he's talking to you again.
War falls silent again, apparently having found the location he wanted. You make a quiet noise of annoyance when he swings you over his shoulder.
You make an even louder noise when he jumps off the roof.
Granted he immediately sinks his claws into the stone and calmly repels down the wall, but you still think there are better ways to get back to ground level.
Cooler ways? Probably not.
You're shivering something frightful by the time you hit the ground, and you're not sure if War is completely to blame. He sets you down with surprising care, but grinds out with surprising ire, "You're injured."
"Ye-yeah." You pluck at your shirt. You would've expected two long cuts through it, but her claws seemed to have dragged unevenly, leaving the bottom half in tatters. "I've got bandages in my backpack. You can chat with Vulgrim while I do that, maybe? Or-"
He cuts you off, "Let me do it."
You blink. "What?"
You don't really expect an answer, and he doesn't give one. You carefully pull off your backpack and grab the med-kit. Fury was insistent that you have every sort of antibiotic the Watcher's could get their hands on (most of which are otherworldly and therefore completely foreign to you), plus the usual things.
War takes the box from you with a grunt, his eyes narrowed. "Who made this?"
You watch him pick through the options and select a gross blueish colored bottle. He soaks a cloth with it while you answer, "Packed it, you mean? Fury and me. I don't know half of what's-"
War presses the cloth against the larger of your cuts, making you grind your teeth to keep from crying out. "Ow!" You hiss.
He gives you a look that you easily translate to "shut up."
You roll your eyes in reply, allowing him to continue. Who would've thought War would know how to fix up a wound? Well... actually, that makes a lot of sense. You just never really thought about it before.
You purse your lips as you mule over this new information. Huh.
You still feel like hell when he finishes wrapping you all up in gauze, and you reason your shivers are from blood loose rather than his claws. Because there's no way you're still having such a reaction.
No.
He scoops you back up afterwards, growling about you over exerting yourself or something equally logical. You don't have the energy to fight him. Even if your pride is taking a major hit.
"What now?" He asks, glaring out at the lava.
"Wait for it." You murmur.
"Tragic... Without your feathered friend, how will you escape this prison of rock?" Vulgrim glides over, right on time.
You can practically feel War's irritation spike. "I'll find a way." He answers shortly.
"You have certainly proved yourself... Resourceful." Vulgrim hums, looking at you pointedly. You almost ask him if he wants to fight or something, but given the shape you're in...
War begins to walk away, Vulgrim circling like he always does, "Perhaps I can offer a quicker way?"
"Speak plainly, demon." War orders.
You all but phase into War's chest as Vulgrim draws nearer. "Serpent Holes... Ancient paths that worm their way beneath the husk of this dead world... And beyond. I use them to get around... And for a price, so can you."
"Dead?" You repeat angrily. This world is not dead. I am still here, and I am not dead.
"What do you want... Vulgrim?" War says his name like a personal favor.
Vulgrim clicks his fingers together, "A trifle really... The Chosen's Heart. I felt its power the moment you stepped from that tower."
"Actually we did a sick repel down the side." You correct quietly, trying to find a place you can lay your head on his shoulder. And here you thought Strife's armor was bad. You do like that he can hold you up with only one arm though. "And you know we've got a deal."
Vulgrim casts his beseeching gaze to you. "You wound me, human. I would never come between you and your friend Samael. No, I only wish to look at the heart. One glance... And our bargain is sealed."
War holds out that dreadful heart, and you shift as far away as you can without falling out of his hold. It feels wicked. And not the 'bro that was a gnarly trick' kind of wicked. More like 'we need to call a priest'.
Vulgrim seems to think its the exact opposite, leaning closer and closer until War makes it disappear again. Vulgrim growls at that, but thankfully backs off. "Samael will be pleased... The serpent holes are yours, Horseman. Seek me out when you wish to use them."
"Hey, War?" You ask as Vulgrim floats back to his shop. "You think I'll actually get to see the others again? I mean because its only the first Chosen and I'm... Sorta messed up."
You simply sigh when he doesn't answer, closing your eyes.
"Not if you continue to act recklessly. If you simply advise... I believe you have a chance." War says, beginning to walk again.
Your eyes fly open. "Really?"