#Cassius ends up in a completely different genre and honestly thats for the best.

[applepieandacherrycoke]

Golden red

hey! I finally wrote a thing. Based off what (the amazing and wonderful) @thehaemanthus said about the kinda person Cassius should be with (In their opinion.) Not exactly sure where this went, but its a thing now!

read it here on ao3!

301,176 + 215,097 + 258,264 + 381,451 + 123,220 (Might want to talk to the McKoy about that, they've been turning out less as of late, might have some problems with the dirt) + 345,632 + 295,746 + 303,204 + 275,947 + 237,745 =

Math went through Nellie’s head constantly, to the point where sometimes it takes effort to remember to breathe. Numbers and equations knocked around her skull and zipped around like flies, barely giving her a chance to remember them before a new swarm flashed by. She did though, remember them. The adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing, keeping one number, discarding another, keeping the probability in mind as the threat of her discovery loomed over her head like the gear-chewer. All with the skill and grace of a Blue.

2,737,482 / 11 (keep the “discard” in case a rainy day comes. Talk to McLaughlin about where to hide it this time, we don't want a repeat of last time) = 248,862 x 10 = 2,488,620 

She rolled the number around her head like a marble, staring up at the ceiling as she layed in the obnoxiously large master bed that threatened to swallow her whole in the pure amount of fluff. She had to admit she liked the comforter, the big thick heavy thing being impossibly nice to curl up with. The sheets were another story, giving her the terrible feeling that she had when her barn was asked to grow cotton in their off year. She despised the stuff. Made her feel like her teeth were vibrating and her ears were stuffed.

240,398 + 338,903 + 244,089 + 400,032 (damn good harvest for McCall, it’s nice to see them bounce back) + 358,904 + 238,490 + 234,549 + 233,420 + 358,934 + 258,089 =

    She should really get up, maybe go get some coffee. It was kinda funny, less than eight seasons ago she would have killed a man for even a sip of the warm shit juice. Now it was something she expected. Granted back then, she would have gotten killed for even looking at the place she lived in now. All the same, she sits up, being blinded by thick red curly hair as it fell on her face, causing her to huff. She moved it aside in vain, shuffling out of the room and being greeted with the house staff, all panicking like the world was ending.

2,905,808/ 11 =264164.36… x 10 = 2,641,643.0, 153,023 more than sector four

Quietly, as to not interrupt them as they scurried and scrambled doing who knows what, she made her way to do her single house chore. Feeding the fish in the strange tank of water and sand the Gold before her had owned. She couldn't tell you for the life of her why; the fish were far too small to eat, and it seemed like a hassle to take care of, but he did and she’d feel bad if she just let them all die. Especially since the staff seemed to enjoy staring at it when they got the chance, watching the fish duck and weave between the rocks. So, grabbing a nearby step stool, she made her way to the fridge. Climbing her way to the freezer and pulling out the small cup of frozen food, careful not to get her oversized sleeves dirty. She closed the door, slogging her way back to the tank with the step stool in tow. Climbing up once again and filling the cup with the salty water inside.

She added for sector six, twirling the twos and threes, and chewing on the seven and eights. Technically she didn't have to do this, she already got the paperwork in. but still it was good to keep in mind. Good to keep messing with. It keeps her busy. It keeps her sharp, not that she really needs it.

    She sloshed the cup around, slowly breaking apart the food and sprinkling it back into the tank watching in slight amusement as the fish began to tear into it. Gently setting the cup next to the stool so the staff could pick it up, she made her way through the hallway and out into the world. Descending the stairway of the large hill the house perched on, she made her way to the local square. Giving vague waves to the Greys on watch and not really paying attention as she lets her feet carry her to the elevator. Descending to home.

Dividing the millions, the seven digit number breaking into pieces, before she smashed them back together.  Ripping and tearing and smashing and comparing. Keeping one number in mind, keeping families and children in her head as the bushels don't split quite evenly. There's quite a lot a person can do with corn, and food is probably the most important.

    She yawned and stretched as the elevator took her down, down, down to the cavernous tunnels below. The artificial sunlight shining dully from holes in the ceiling and walls all the way down the path. She pressed a button on the far side of the elevator, and smiled as a cart came racing to her. The little four wheeling buggy being mostly used by the ranchers, and bringing them down to the tunnels might have been the best idea she's ever had. She enters it, and speeds off, getting closer and closer to the massive barn of McFly, probably. They were closest, maybe, but she was still getting used to their being so many barns and tunnels. Each slightly different than hers. Sure enough, however, as she got closer the large painting of a fly made its way into view, painted crudely but proudly on the side of the metal building. 

She makes her way inside, the door always unlocked, and heading straight to the kitchen, a pot already made and still hot. She made herself a mug, using one of their pure white guest ones, and she took a warm and grateful sip. She closed her eyes, letting the slightly bitter taste and the absolutely wonderful smell wash over her. Lulling her into a sense of peace. Or well, as peaceful as you could get with her.

2,521,603 / 11 = 229,236.640 x -

    “Nellie!” someone shouted, causing her to jump and almost spilled her coffee. She turns, scowling as two men run in, one of them being the plowman of McFly. He was a buggy man, with grays in his hair and scars over his lips. He was admittedly nicer than most plowmen in his sector, but the man couldn't play poker if his life depended on it. A damn shame if there ever was one.

    “By the Vale, what was that for!” she hisses, cupping her mug protectively in her mits as both men loomed over her, (they easily had half a foot on the poor girl. McGraws tend to come out small).  “Bloodyhell y’all, way to make a girl think your tryin’ to kill her.”

“Nellie, where the fuck have you been?” The plowman shot back to interrogate her, before the Grey he was with interrupted him. He had been one of the good ones, back before. The only reason he was still alive, being honest. At least in her book. Mcfly would probably have a very different answer, but he knew the grizzled man better.

“Wait. You were wearing that last time I saw you.” he pointed out, and she avoided his gaze. “McGraw, what day is it?” 

“... Tuesday?” she asked, carefully as she played with the sleeve of the oversized sweater she wore as a dress. She winced at the exasperation and confusion that grew on their faces.

“Mcgraw what the fuck.” the Grey mumbled, as Mcfly buried his face in his hands and groaned in disappointment. She would have shot back about when they held back a meeting for almost two hours because the pair of them were burying their tongue in the other's throat, but immediately ruled against it. Mcfly had told her that in confidence, and the only reason he was married to the rude snobby bitch of a woman was a favor to an old friend. It'd be a low blow to use it against him, against either of them.

“Look! Its harvest! I've got a lot on my mind, n’ so what if I'm a day or two off.” she defended instead, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Nellie it's Saturday!” Mcfly groaned, “Look, we’ll talk about that later, right now we have bigger problems. Somethin’ crashed in the pastures.” 

    She blinks, setting down her cup, taken aback. She looked between the two, “Did we lose anythin’?” 

    “Everythin’ seems accounted for, but it scared McGee half to the mud pit. Spooked their horses too.” McFly told her, as the Grey handed her a pad. On it she saw feed of something entering her atmosphere, with a few scribbles with numbers beside them. She nodded, pretending she knew what she was looking at, before handing it back to him. 

    “Well that certainly ain't good.” she said evenly. “Why haven't they talked to me about it?”

    “They’re tryin’, they’re at the townhall waitin’ for you, brainless.” McFly snapped. And she puts her hands up in surrender. 

    “Fine! Fine. ‘m goin’, ‘m goin’. No need to yell at me.” she grumbled, grabbing her cup and making her way to the door.

    “No ya don’t! Those cups don't leave this house n’ you know that!” McFly reprimanded, and she scowled at him.

    “You ain't my pa!” she hisses. All the same she takes one big chug of what's left and puts the mug in the sink, rinsing it out. Then she leaves, the two men in tow. Picking up her calculations where she left off. 

Tear, rip. Sector seven always gets a little more than everyone else, if only ‘cause they make the best ‘shine this side of the galaxy. The stuff could knock a lesser man flat on his ass but if you can handle it nothing burns faster nor quite as good. Not to mention sector seven was very generous, despite the fact that technically it was still illegal.

    It didn't take all that long to get back to the surface, much less town hall. Admittedly the fight she had with McFly over the results of the last derby did help speed things along. She wasn't five feet away and already she could hear panicked shouting and arguments breaking out, causing her to give an annoyed look to McFly. If only in habit. It wasn't her first gathering with all the plowmen present, but it doesn't mean she likes it. All the shouting and demanding made it hard for her to focus. 

    Sucking it up, she walked inside the hall, and all heads turned to her. Some men nodded their heads, others whispered to their companions. Her plowman was missing, (not much of a surprise) and her girls waved her over as they stood with McGee. She had met the eight women back when she had conned the old house McOester out of their laurel. They had come, like they always do, looking for food and supplies for their families and barns, with nothing but their… to offer. Nellie, her brother's sister to her core, thought this was absurd, and just let them head out with what they needed. They had been by her side since, and without them she'd be in the mud pit seven times over.

    She made her way over to them, giving them a comforting smile in greeting. She gained a few sarcastic side curtsy in return, before Nellie’s attention was taken by the McGee and a little girl, who seemed to be clinging to her father for dear life.

“Nellie! Thank the Vale, you're here. It's worse than we thought.”

“What, did we lose some horses?” she asked, frowning.

“Worse. We’ve got one of ‘em goldilocks out there.” he admitted, causing everyone in the room to burst into panicked mumbling and whispering, one that made her head ache. “The kid saw it with her own two eyes.” he swore to her, scowling at them. They only murmured louder, soft words of doubt and panic. It was quickly becoming too much for her.

“Quiet!” she shouted at them, turning to the girl, as she clung to her father’s leg even tighter. “Tell me.”

“It was massive.” she whispered, like mentioning him any louder would cause him to appear. “Me, a-and Daniel were just goin’ to see what the sound was, n’ then- then we see this ship. N’ there-there was a guy there, workin’ on it. It was big, n’ tall, n’ it’s hair- it was like Ron-”

“Ey! We don't say that name, Milly.” her father scowled, “You know that”

“But it was!” she defended right back. “It was yellow n’ curly, n’ it had that sign on it’s hand! It was one of ‘em!”

Nellie pinches the bridge of her nose; she had hoped to never see a goldielocks again. Before she was able to respond, McKoy scoffed loudly, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

    “Oh please, you called all of us here for the stories of some bloodydamn kid?” he sneered, leaning against a wall. “it's clearly a joke, n’ a pisspoor fuckin’ joke at that. Ain’t been a Gold round here in years, n’ yall know it.”

“Does she look like she’s fucking jokin’.” her father shot back, his daughter pale and shaken. Mckoy took a step towards him, smaller than the man but plenty intimidating if you didn't know any better.

“Watch your tone, son. Your speakin’ to a plowman, bloodydamn it.” he growled, and McGee stepped between them, getting up in McKoy’s face.

“Really?” McFly snorted. “After your harvest, you still call yourself that?”

“You wanna go, fly boy?” he turned, snarling. And Nellie was quickly utterly done with all of this, especially as the faint sound of harmonizing creeped into the air. She could hear soft warm ups of legs rubbing together to and fro and it sent a terrible shiver up her spine. 

“That's enough! I didn't come here to watch a dick measurin’ contest, thank y’all very much. Mckoy, I know you're scared, but that doesn't mean you need to take it out on the rest of us. McFly, low blow. You’re better than that.” she snarled at them both, tired. The singing faded, as did the crowd. She couldn't help her relief. “Now you lot sit tight, chill the fuck out and let me go check, yeah?” 

“You sure about that, kid?” McFly asked, sharing uncertain looks with his fellow plowmen.

“You don't have to if you don't want.” McKoy mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck “We could go with ya.”

“Nah, I've got this. Just to check it out” she assured, despite it being less than convincing, she turns to Mcgee “It's a little south of here, ain’t it?”

“Well yeah, but what if there really is a goldilocks,-” Mcgee starts, before the little girl interrupts him.

“It is real! Daniel and I saw it! It was working on its ship n’ everything!” she demanded, before her father hushes her. 

“If” McGee reinstates, “there really is a goldilocks, are you sure you'll be alright?”

“Of course. If it exists and if it causes a problem, well momma didn't raise no bitch.” Nellie nods, shrugging. “I've killed a Gold before and bloody damn it all I'll do it again. Any questions?” No one spoke, no one dared. She had made a pretty good point, and if they were being honest, pissing off Nellie anymore then she already was, was never a good idea. “Thought so. I'm borrowing a cart.”

With that, she left. getting into one of the carts parked to the side of the hall and speeding on south, to whatever the hell crashed into her planet. Rolling over the soft green meadows where the animals graze and roam. The breeze whipped through her hair, and it was almost inevitable that she was to zone out.

Chew, gnaw, gnash them with her teeth. Rip the 5s in half, strip 3s like paper, roll thousands on her tongue. It's probably a good idea to start planting other plants eventually. Pumpkins seem handy, so does wheat. She knows better than to do zucchini, not after what happened with McGregor’s off year.  But maybe soybeans. Or peppers. Maybe start weaning off corn. It's not like they'd notice, not really.

    She used to come up with her brother, when they were able to sneak away. Wayne would've got whipped half to the mudpit if anyone found out, but he loved the stars too much to care. Though she never would admit it, she just thought it was nice to get out of the tiny cramped tunnels. It was where she learned how to play poker, under the pretty night sky.

2s and 11s and different things to notice, funny numbers hidden in layers and distorted to the point others couldn't recognize them if they tried. Eights been having a hard year, and she wonders if she could convince them to nurture trees. Apples, lemons, oranges, stuff like that. They've always been much hotter than the rest of the planet. Might as well make use of it. Besides, how nice would it be to have access to oranges from their own backyard. On that matter maybe she could convince ten to add an apple orchard to the pastures. But where in the vale would she get something like that.

    He was a terrible player, his tells were obvious, and he thought she needed to be gone easy on. Still, he taught her the rules, taught her about tells, and let her know that people thought she needed the help. He taught her puppy dog eyes, he taught her the ways people hid their guilt, and more than anything he taught her the value of pure dumb luck. He was a bloody damn good teacher too.

283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 345394 + 345736 + 382734 + 284759 =

    It was easy to think of him, even when it was just looking out a window. Or when she caught sight of the scars she made on the other plowmen. She can still feel her fingernails in their skin, screaming murder as she tore into flesh and blinked the tears out of her eyes. Her gaze never leaving the taught rope even when the fiddles started. She can still feel the rough unsanded wood of the broken table tear at her palm as she swung it with everything she’s got. It’s other shards layed around, or in the man. She laughed then, as her bat turned red, and so did her vision. She cried then too.

283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 345394 + 345736 + 382734 + 284759 =

    There will always be a part of her that will be bitter. Bitter that they screamed for her, and not for him. Bitter that it took so long, took so many of her friends and family, to finally smash a few Greys brains in. Bitter that she had to bury so many of her people, and she couldn't even bury him with them. Bitter that those stupid Greys had the audacity to get their worthless hides dumped in the same place her brother rested-

283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 345394 + 345736 + 382734 + 284759 =

283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 3453-

    The ship came into view. A small thing, comparatively, that looked like it was better suited for a junkyard than ever being in space. Even when the only thing she had to compare was the scrap heaps that sends the corn to a more important planet. The paneling was peeled off, there were sharp bits of metal jutting out in random places, and one part of the thing was still on fire. That's not even mentioning the bullet holes.

    And sure enough, there was a goldilocks. A big one, (a shirtless one), tinkering with something or other, and even from there she could see this was extremely frustrating for him. To the point he didn't even notice her get closer. His hair was curly and thick, and his body was covered in scars. He had a cleft in his chin, and she got the feeling he thought himself attractive. She also noticed that he wasn't armed, which was probably the weirdest thing about him. She cleared her throat, and gold finally turned to Nellie, his golden eyes taking in her red form.

    “‘Lo, Red. Do you know anywhere to fix this ship?”

    Nellie's eyes flicked to the scar on his cheek. She knew that it was important; how escaped her, but she knew that Ron certainly didn't have one. 

    “Might know a place.” she admitted, careful to keep her poker face. The gold doesn’t speak, waiting for something. The staff once told her that Ron had demanded that they call him, something or other. By the vale they even tried to call her the same shit. She had, of course, shut that down asap, and if she couldn't have been bothered to remember it. Instead, she waits for him to get over himself. It wastes much more time then she would have liked

    “What planet is this, anyhow? My datapad isn’t showing anything.” he asked, shaking himself off and looking around the wide fields

    “Shame,” she scoffed, as if it wasn't her savior. “Well, 'm afraid your guess is as good as mine. Couldn't tell ya.”

It was a lie, a pretty harmless one all things considered, but she had to suppress a smile when he bought it. “Prime. Absolutely marvelous.” He huffed sarcastically. Before sighing. “Well I suppose you wouldn’t, now would you?”

That caught her off guard. She blinked, looking up at him like he just grew a second head. He didn’t seem to notice. “’m sorry?” She tried.

“Oh don’t be. It’s understandable.” He told her, cordially. “I’m sure your superior could help me well enough. Your ArchGovernor preferably, But I suppose any old bronzie would do.”

”I don’t-“ she tried, finding herself getting more annoyed by the minute. It had been a very long time since someone had talked over her, and even then she was quick to smash a table over his head. He just walked past her in his pacing.

“And after that, my goodman, you can take my ship to be repaired. Sooner the better, obviously.” he said, and she sighed. Closing her eyes, “Say who is your arch governor anyhow?”

“... Me.” She told him bluntly, annoyed and caught off guard  and more than ready to smack something. He hesitated, staring at her, before he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Funny, but not the time Red.” he scoffed, “Lysander and I need to get back into space. Not to mention this planet looks... less than sanitary.”

“Excuse me.” she hissed. Staring at him dead in the eye. All notions of a poker face gone.

“Well, no offense to you, Red, it's not your fault of course. But it's like the Golds in charge designed this place to look like a shithole-” he starts, before Nellie saw red and smacked him with everything she possibly could. Even if she did have to jump, it was enough to send him reeling. Which was plenty for her.

“OW! By Jove what was that for?” he hissed glaring at her. Seeming startled when she glared right back. “You dare strike a-”

“Shut it!” she snapped. “N’ listen close cause ‘M only sayin’ this once-!”

“No, you listen to me, Red. I am Cassius Au Bellona, an Olympic Knight and a member of the peerless scarred! I will not sit around and get told off by a- a Red of all things!” he shouted, causing her to take a step back, a sneer growing. “Now take me to your archgovener right this instant or I will have you hang-”

“I AM THE ARCHGOVENER YA PISS DRINKIN’ BASTARD!” she screamed at him, pissed beyond all belief. “AND I DID NOT SPEND FOUR YEARS OF MY LIFE DOIN’ MY DAMNDEST AT IT TO BE TREATED LIKE ANYTHIN’ LESS, YOU HEAR ME!? SON OF A BITCH!”

 What happened next was probably the most terrifying staring contest in Nellie's 50 seasons of existence. Or it would be, but Nellie was too busy silently berating herself over the lack of grace on what should've been her punchline. Really, “son of a bitch” is the best you've got? She didn't even call him one she just shouted it out like an angry grandpa who got kids tracking dirt through his house. By the vale that made her feel old.

“It's goin’ to take years to get that scrap heap off the ground.” she huffed, remembering that he was there after a moment “N’ that's not even considering that our stuff ain’t the best. You'd get there faster if you walked. Luckily for you, though, there's a ship that carries our supplies to Cerce, and she comes round every half year like clockwork. And 'm sure she'd be happy to take you along with her next time.”

“Next time.” he repeated, frowning harder at the sudden shift. She nodded.

“Ya just missed her. Sorry to say, space boy, you’re gonna be stuck here a minute.” she shrugged, and he cursed under his breath. Turning away, he kicked something and silently cursed his rotten luck. Nellie just waited, letting him get it out of his system before continuing. “Now come on, not much daylight left, n’ supper will get cold.”

“I’m sorry?” he asked, face coiled in confusion, and she had to smile.

“No need to be sorry, baby. That shit heap’s still on fire, and I'm worried Im’ma get cut just lookin’ at the thing. Ain’t no way in hell I’m lettin’ you and- whoever the hell Lysander is- sleep in that. What kinda host would I be?” she shrugged. She then shooed him  “Now scoot your boot, Goldilocks. It's hard to drive at night.”

He hesitated. “Are you certain-?” he started before she stopped him with a snort. 

“Spaceman I live alone in the biggest house on the bloody-damn planet, I have room for a guest or seven.” she told him, giving him a look. “I wouldn't have offered if I didn't.”

They entered a staring contest, red meeting gold with much less heat than before. (at least, on Cassius’ side) As terrible as the goldbrows were, she couldn't help but be a little curious about this one. The last time she was this close to one, well she was smashing his brains in, and he wasn't nearly as impressive as this one, that was for sure. Meanwhile he was probably debating cutting her into pieces or something like that.

“Fine then.” he said finally, before storming off to get whoever Lysander was. He was a prick, Nellie quickly decided, somewhat offended that he didn't even say thank you. But she's dealt with pricks before, even ones that could kill her with a snap. At least this time she had some modicum of ground.

182 days x 12 hours = 2184 hours x 60 minutes = 131,040 minutes x 60 seconds = 

She had a feeling that it was going to be a long year. 

… Might want to give sector seven more corn.

#cassius au bellona #morning knight #red rising #Cassius x oc #red rising trilogy #Darrow of lykos dni! #This conflict has nothing to do with you! #Still love you tho #Cassius ends up in a completely different genre and honestly thats for the best. #gross amount of worldbuilding