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queenofimagines · 4 years

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Stranger from Out of Town

Summary: Arvin had no reason to be here. After the things he’d done, he had no reason to be blessed with an angel like you. But after spending so long on the run, after spending so long looking over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but fall in love with the one person who made him feel safe. All is well and good in Arvin’s life until one determined and obsessed sheriff decides it’s time to pay Arvin a visit.

Notes: Ya’ll, this one’s a doosey but I hope you enjoy it anyways. For the purposes of this pic, Bodecker is still alive.

When Arvin woke up that morning he could feel that something was different. Arvin’s life had been flipped upside down by his own actions that had ultimately been what forced him to live his life on the run. He had spent the better part of a year running, zigzagging across the country in the hopes of shaking the authorities off; first traveling down to Georgia, then up to Iowa, then back down towards Texas and so on before finally finding permanent resident. Arvin knew what the rest of his life would look like from here on out. He understood that he would spend the rest of his time on God’s green Earth looking over his shoulder and never finding the quiet life he longed for. Arvin knew that he was cursed, from the moment his mother had died he had been plagued with loss and he was sure he was one of the unlucky souls who had come to be the Devil’s plaything. Arvin had expected that his life would forever be riddled with rot and chaos, damned to suffer through conflict after conflict after conflict. But when Arvin opened his eyes today to the sun streaming in through window and the sound of bacon sizzling coming from the kitchen, he finally understood what it felt like to be at peace.

Arvin swung his legs over the side of the bed, hauling himself up and making his way down the hall. His steps were heavy with sleep, shuffling against the floor loud enough to alert the person in the kitchen to his presence. As Arvin drew closer, he began to hear the hum of a song that was unfamiliar to him, just barely covered by the sound of someone flipping an egg, prompting him to hurry his steps to arrive at the delicious smell and the lovely voice that had almost lulled him back to sleep where he stood. Rounding the corner, Arvin couldn’t help but grin at the sight before him. There you stood in front of the stove, still dressed in your nightgown, cooking a breakfast big enough for two.

Two. Such a simple word with such little meaning. An insignificant word that made Arvin’s heart swell with delight. It wasn’t just him anymore, alone and scared, no, now it was him and you. To Arvin, it was hope. Arvin watched as you plated the food you had prepared before turning around and flashing him an earth shattering smile. You would never know how much it meant to him, your smile, and that you were here, right now. You would never know the kind of stability you brought to him. And he planned to keep it that way, to keep you in the dark about all the things he’d done. To keep letting you believe he was just the stranger from out of town who stole your heart.

When you met Arvin, he was just a newcomer, a lost soul who had found your quaint little town practically in the middle of nowhere. He had stirred up quit a buzz when he walked into your parents’ little diner, asking if there was any place he could stay the night, but seeing as your town was so small, small enough that it could safely be left off of most maps and small enough that tourism wasn’t a main source of income, the answer was unequivocally no. Your father, who had been Arvin had the luck of plopping himself next to, informed him that the closest motel was almost a three hours drive away. Arvin remembered staring out the window, watching the last rays of light vanish, his hope along with it. It would be impossible for him to get someone to see him this late at night, let alone actually stop for him. Arvin felt like he could cry in that moment, but your mother, ever the good Christian woman, had offered to let him stay at your house until tomorrow morning. Arvin was grateful that your mother had been so kind, and in retrospect you were too, but you remembered how much you resented Arvin when your mother told you he would be staying with you. At first, you were all for it, one night with an attractive stranger from out of town in your house wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but the next day both Arvin and your father came home in the afternoon after they had supposedly left to take Arvin to the next town over earlier that morning.

“Turns out this boy knows his way around a car,” your father had said, beaming. He had later told your mother privately that he had offered Arvin a place to stay with your family and a smaller than average wage in exchange for his help around the shop. Your father owned the only car shop in town and was in desperate need of a new assistant, and seeing as you didn’t want anything to do with being a mechanic, your father saw Arvin as a golden opportunity, someone to possibly pass the torch to. Your mother was more than happy to let him stay, finding his handiness around the house useful, but you were less ready to welcome him into your life. Arvin had garnered a lot of attention, especially from the female population, and most of the girls at your school would pretend to be your friend in the hopes that you would invite them over, just so they could get a glimpse at him. It only got worse when your parents had commissioned Arvin to pick you up and drop you off to school. The girls would stare, trying to get a closer look at Arvin, a few of them even having the courage to go up and talk to him. It made you sick, that attention he got and how much he seemed to enjoy it. You had convinced yourself that it was skepticism about his character, but now that you look back on it, it was nothing more than petty jealousy that bubbled in your stomach. It was stupid, really, to be jealous that a boy was giving other girl’s his attention, especially since you hadn’t seemed very keen on the idea of him even being in your town, but what you didn’t know was that it wasn’t the attention that Arvin enjoyed, it was the fact that in the people around him, in the kindness that people showed him, Arvin could see a future here; a future with you.

From the moment Arvin laid his eyes on you, he was smitten, he would even go as far as to say it was love at first sight. Arvin wouldn’t confess this to you until almost a year after you’d met when he tried to ask you to prom (with your parents’ permission, of course). It was honestly a train wreck and did not go at all how he had planned. Arvin had invited you out to the town’s gazebo, he had strung up lights as best he could and set up a nice little dinner for the two of you. He saw a figure slowly approach, thinking it was you, only to be disappointed when Susan Hall, who Arvin remembered you hated with a passion, stepped into the light and flung herself at him, telling him how sweet it was of him to do this and attempting to kiss him. You had seen the whole thing and, devastated, you ran away, Arvin chasing after you. He had caught up to you in the woods behind your parents’ property and explained what had happened, confessing that he loved you and only you. You believed him, and rightfully so, as you later found out that Susan had crashed your plans on purpose to try and steal Arvin from you.

Looking back on it now, with you leaning against his in the small house that you had bought the second you graduated high school with the little money both of you had saved up and some help from your parents, Arvin was glad he had ended up in your dreary town, no matter how complicated your relationship had been when it first started. He watched as you admired the ring on your finger, smiling at it as if you had been missing it all your life, the now empty dishes sitting in your sink waiting to be washed. It was times like this Arvin remembered why he had to keep his past life from you a secret. He loved you and often found himself wanting to tell you all about his past life. Every time you asked why he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders Arvin wanted nothing more than to tell you everything, but Arvin loved you too much to let you go and he couldn’t bare to think of what would happen if you knew what he did.

“Darlin’, I gotta get ready for work.” He said, lips pressed against the crown of your head.

“Why don’t you call in sick today,” you suggested.

“I would but your dad would kill me.”

“You know he loves you Arvin.”

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t wanna disappoint ‘im.” With one final kiss to your head, Arvin stood up and made his way to your shared bedroom. You began to clean the dishes, not having to go into the diner until later that day. As you began cleaning the last pan in the sink, a sturdy knock came from your door.

“I’ll get it!” You yelled, hearing Arvin begin to hurry to the front door. You had opened the door just as Arvin arrived at the end of the hallway. In front of you stood a tall man with a sheriff’s badge pinned to his shirt.

“Mornin’ ma’am, my name’s Lee Bodecker,” The man said. “I’m looking for a man named Arvin Russell and I heard I might find him here.”

“Arvin?” You repeated, confusion written all over your face. You turned to look at your husband, eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. From where the sheriff stood, he couldn’t see Arvin, his figure being blocked by the door, but if he leaned ever so slightly to the left he might be able to peer into the house and see there was someone else there. You knew something was wrong, you had never seen Arvin look as scared as he did now, so without a second thought, you had gently closed the door so that your body filled the gap it created, leaning against the door frame in an attempt to feign nonchalance.

“I’m sorry, Mister, but there ain’t no Arvin Russell here. Whoever told you there was must have been misinformed.”

“You sure about that?”

“Sure as the hair on my head.”

“Oh, alright. Then may I ask who it was you called to just before you opened the door?”

“My husband.” You said after a long pause, caught off guard by the man’s question.

“Mind if I speak with him?”

“Well I don’t but I’m not sure how you’d feel about seein’ him naked. He’s takin’ a shower right now.” You began gently tapping your foot, your nerves beginning to get the better of you. You had never been all that good at lying, something about it made you feel wrong, dirty. But you needed to protect your husband, after all, it’s what he would do for you.

“Then would you mind if I waited.”

“Actually I would. I have to leave for work soon and, with all do respect, I don’t much like leaving a stranger unattended in my house.”

With a small nod and a tip of the hat, the man bid you goodbye, getting into his car and driving off. You closed the door and turned to Arvin. It was silent for a long time, you waited for Arvin to explain himself but Arvin didn’t know what to say. His worst nightmare was coming true and he was terrified that your love for him wouldn’t be strong enough to survive this.

“Arvin,” You said, as calmly as you could, not wanting to spook him or yourself anymore, though it proved a lot harder that you thought. “Why was that man at our door?”

Arvin opened his mouth as if to say something but for the life of him he couldn’t find the words. He was frustrated with himself, and from the looks of it you were getting pretty frustrated at him to.

“Arvin,” you said more firmly. “I just lied to a goddamn sheriff for you. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

Arvin took a deep breathe before explaining everything to you. He told you about Lenora, and how hung herself. About the preacher and Bodecker and about Bodecker’s sister and her crazy husband. He explained everything he had done with complete and utter honesty. And he cried, longing to reach out for you but knowing his hands were too tainted to be worthy of ever holding something as beautifully pure as you. You didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, you understood his reasoning. To you, it seemed like the people Arvin had killed had it coming. But on the other hand, your husband had killed people. It didn’t matter what the reason was, taking a person’s life was a sin, something unforgivable in the holy book. Despite your better judgement, your decision ultimately came down to this: Arvin was your husband, and you loved him.

You slowly approached Arvin’s shaking figure, gently wrapping your arms around his shoulders and threading your hands through his hair. Arvin broke down into sobs, holding you impossibly close to him as if he needed you more than the air he breathed.

“Arvin,” You said once he had stopped crying, your own tears beginning to fall as you realized that there was only one option left for you both. “Arvin, we need to go.”

“What?”

“We need to go.” He gently pulled away from you, looking into your eyes, checking to make sure he heard you correctly.

“B-but this is our home.”

“I know Arvin, but that sheriff didn’t believe a word I said and he’s gonna be asking around town for you. It won’t be long until word of what you’ve done begins to spread. We need to leave before it’s too late.”

You gently ushered Arvin towards the bedroom and told him to begin packing a bag, unaware of the figure lurking at your backdoor. Bodecker had listened in on your conversation, hearing every word you and Arvin had spoken to each other, preparing for the right moment to make himself known. It was now or never, he thought, hearing you tell Arvin to pack a bag. As quietly as possible, Bodecker broke the lock on your back door, slowly making his way towards your bedroom. The door was wide open, he could see you and Arvin darting around the room trying to find your essentials. It was almost perfect, how unaware you both were. How wrapped up you were in yourselves that you didn’t even notice a 6 foot tall man practically right in front of you. With a sadistic smile, Bodecker raised his shotgun.

You froze when you heard someone pump a shotgun behind you, whipping around to find Bodecker standing just a few feet from you, gun aimed at Arvin. Your heart was beating so hard you thought it might burst, the thought of losing Arvin only increasing the adrenaline that was currently coursing through you.

“You thought you could get away, didn’t you?” Bodecker asked.

“Please, your sister and her husband, t-they were gonna kill me I didn’t hav-”

“I don’t care! You killed my sister. My sister! You killed the only person I loved Arvin. And now, I’m gonna return the favor.” In one swift motion, Bodecker turned to point the gun at you, raising his gun higher to aim at you properly. You closed your eyes before hearing the bang of a gun. You waited, standing stock still as the terror of the situation slowly got to you, but you didn’t feel pain, instead you felt a set of hands holding your face, a voice softly telling you to open your eyes. You did as you were told, seeing Arvin in front of you, eyes frantic. You looked at the ground next to him, an unfamiliar gun next to Arvin’s foot. You came to the realization that Arvin must have used it to shoot Bodecker, your suspicion being proven correct when your eyes landed on Bodecker’s now lifeless body laying in a pool of his own blood.

“A-Arvin-” Arvin softly hushed you.

“It’s okay, you’re okay now.” Arvin pulled you closer to him, cradling your head and shielding you from the body. Soon you could hear sirens in the distance, the panic slowly rising inside of you again. You could feel Arvin begin to panic too, his breathing starting to pick up.

“H-his badge.” You said, pulling away from Arvin, scared that he would be taken away from you. “We-we need to get rid of h-his badge. A-and any identification he has. It has to look like an- like an accident”

“R-right. Right, okay, uh...” Arvin began searching Bodecker’s body, quickly finding both his badge and ID and hiding them in a small hollow under one of the floor boards where you kept your savings. You and Arvin quickly came up with a cover, agreeing to keep it simple. The police arrived not long after, conducting an interview and putting you both through due process. You told them what you and Arvin had agreed to say, that the man broke into your house and tried to rob you, but thanks to Arvin’s quick thinking, Arvin was able to get to his gun and shoot the intruder. The policemen interviewing you were skeptical, wondering why neither of you called the police after killing the man. You blamed it on shock, saying that Arvin’s first instinct was to comfort you, the intruder did have a gun pointed at you, after all. The policemen eventually dropped the subject, seeing you begin to tear up as the adrenaline and shock of the day began to ware off. Your parents came to get you and Arvin, offering you both your old room at their house until they were able to get someone to fix your back door, an offer that the both of you readily accepted. That night you and Arvin held each other just a little bit tighter, neither one of you finding sleep to come easy.

“We can’t tell anyone what happened today.” Arvin said, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you.

“I know.” You replied, tightly clutching onto his shirt. “I love you, Arvin.”

“I love you, too, Darlin’”

You didn’t know what would come out of tonight. You didn't know if you were making a mistake by trusting Arvin after everything he had done. You weren’t sure if you were messed up for loving a murderer or if you were right in believing that Arvin was doing good, even if it meant doing some more than questionable things. But you knew one thing, you knew you loved Arvin and that he loved you, and that you both would always protect each other, no matter the cost.

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Note

Prompts? This is a happy day! If you wish! I'm writing something similar but I need more cakes in the flavor and you write emotions so well! But early days in the archives and Tim and Sasha are giving Jon the cold shoulder and maybe there's an accident or something Jon really needs help with but he doesn't think he can go to either of them and he doesn't know Martin. And the next day he rolls up sick, or beat to hell, or has a cast, or a black eye, and Tim and Sasha are like WAT? And then feels!

Here you are! How do you know EXACTLY what to prompt me??? This is so my speed. So here you go- I hope you like!

“You’ve survived your first month in the Archives! That’s cause for celebration, Martin. Drinks on me!”

Tim’s cheerful tones weren’t hard to miss. Perhaps he didn’t notice Jon standing in the doorway, small and timid. He realized it was the middle of a rather stressful work week, but he just needed a little bit of help with some boxes. He’d been tired and worn out for the better part of the week, and the small ladder in Document Storage was rickety at best. Martin and Tim were both much taller and stronger than him- hell, even Sasha could’ve probably gotten the job done. Just a few minutes and then they could be on their way, to wherever they planned to go. Without him.

Sasha was the one who noticed him. “Oh- hey, Jon. Did you need something?”

He looked at the other two, twitching with clear impatience. Martin opened his mouth to speak but Tim made some sort of hushing motion with his hand. A sinking feeling made its way through Jon’s chest and to his stomach- the thought of asking for even the smallest of favors filled him with anxiety. He didn’t think he could bear seeing their faces when they said no.

“Er, no, just- have a good night, yeah?” His voice sounded off, even to him, but they didn’t seem to make much of it, nodding awkwardly.

“You too!” Martin called after him as Jon scurried down the hallway, biting down whatever sadness stuck in his throat. He’d be here all night most likely.

It didn’t bother him.

______

Jon stared up at the boxes looming tauntingly on the shelf, filled with statements that were likely just as disorganized as the ones on the shelf below. But these were labeled with the most recent dates in the Archive, and that’s what he planned on going through for the rest of the week.

Back in research, Tim used to prank him by putting things on the highest of shelves- books he needed, tea he wanted. It irked him but Tim would always be right around the corner to lend a helping hand and a teasing word. It got Jon out of his head for a moment, something very few people could accomplish.

Tim still put things on high shelves in their break room but it just felt cruel, now that he wasn’t comfortable enough to ask for help. Now that Tim was never around the corner.

He put a tentative foot on the step ladder, grimacing as it leaned to the side. He’d put in an order for a new one at the beginning of his tenure but Elias never responded. He felt bad bothering the man with such a petty request when he could just ask his assistants for help. What was he supposed to tell him? ‘Hey my assistants seem to hate me and I’m too scared to ask them’ didn’t inspire much confidence.

Jon took another step forward, willing the ladder to stabilize. He needed to get to the fourth step to even have a chance of reaching the box, high up as it was. Just a bit further.

He made it to the fourth when everything went to hell. As soon as he reached his hands toward the box the ladder creaked and listed dangerously to the side, throwing him wildly off balance. He flailed right off the side, landing with a yelp and a crack on the cold concrete floor of Document Storage.

The pain emanating from his left arm was almost paralyzing-it had taken almost all his weight in the fall and was lying awkwardly across the floor. It brought tears to his eyes as he tried to move it so he just laid there for a bit, willing himself not to pass out from the pain. How ridiculous he must have looked, lying prone on the ground, defeated by a fucking stepladder.

When he finally decided to sit up his head spun- he only got as far as scooting back and leaning his head onto a shelf, trying to control his breathing. He had his phone in his pocket. If he needed help, he could just call Sasha or Tim or even Martin. His arm didn’t feel right and he would probably have to go to a clinic or the A & E, something he hated doing. He didn’t think he could brush this one off.

But what if they didn’t answer? He thought about the three of them at the bar, laughing and talking. Tim would be regaling them with some ridiculous story, his phone would ring. He would glance down at it, see Jon’s name and flip it over, ignoring it.

Or worse, they would come, see him huddled on the floor and laugh. They would try to hold it in at first- they weren’t that rude. But as they helped him to his feet they wouldn’t be able to contain it. How embarrassing he was, how ridiculous. Jon couldn’t bear to be laughed at.

Two weeks ago he had walked past the upstairs break room on his way back from a meeting with Elias. It was entirely unproductive; he could sense Elias’s growing frustration with his lack of progress. Jon wondered if he regretted making him his Head Archivist, if he was already thinking of suitable replacements. Jon wouldn’t blame him.

And that’s when he heard it- an odd, mocking voice that he knew belonged to Ryan from research. Ryan and Jon never got on- Ryan was talkative and prone to gossip, and every attempt he had made to talk to Jon had been shut down by his inability to carry a conversation. On the odd times they were paired together to work, Jon took the brunt of it with utter silence, unwilling to complain about the man lest he be deemed more difficult than he already was.

But the voice he put on- stuffy and posh- was a caricature of Jon’s own. And sure enough, when he glanced in the doorway he saw Ryan hunched over a table, someone else’s glasses on his face as he screwed it up in a scowl and carried on as “Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute” to his captive audience.

His captive audience which included Sasha and Tim.

He felt his heart shatter as the group laughed at the impression. It was accurate, why shouldn’t they? God, why hadn’t he realized how much everyone hated him here? Any respect he thought he earned faded quickly with this showing. He found himself sprinting down the hallway and locking himself in his office, ignoring Martin’s concerned inquiries as he desperately tried to blink back tears.

Remembering the incident brought the shame and embarrassment back tenfold. No, he would deal with this himself. That was the best course of action.

He took fifteen minutes to properly wallow but once his heart rate lowered and the pain was at manageable, dull roar he got to his feet and staggered down the aisle, constantly searching for a handhold. He had everything he needed on him- it wasn’t so cold that he couldn’t go without a jacket, and he knew he wouldn’t get any work done this evening.

Making his way down the hallway and up the stairs was almost tortuous; he paused several times and took deep breaths to avoid passing out and making the problem worse. By the time he got to the lobby Rosie was already gone for the day and Ed, the janitor, was idly mopping by the front door.

“‘Ave a good night, sir,” the man said without looking up. “Careful though, s’slippery over-whoa there, Sims!”

He must have looked as awful as he felt because the man dropped his mop and made his way over to his side, his face the picture of concern. Jon was holding his arm at an awkward angle so as not to jostle it. “S’fine,” he wearily started. “Have a good night, Ed.”

“Don’ look fine to me, Jonny.” Jon hated this nickname, but he never let on. He didn’t want to upset the one man who still greeted him day and night, no matter how stressed and irritable Jon looked. It was a nice, comforting routine. “Somethin’ happen?”

“Just took a fall, nothing serious,” he lied, well aware that his palm was scraped and crusted with blood. “I’ll just be going, got a train to catch-”

“Let me get you a cab, son,” he said, a paternal hand on his shoulder. “Shouldn’t be on the tube looking like that, bound to make it worse.” Jon began to voice his protest but the man was already out the door, waving and stamping in the street. He would smile at the scene if he had the energy for it. Instead he just staggered after him, wincing with every step.

“Over here!” the man shouted, standing by a cab a little ways down the road. Ed opened the door and ushered him in, hands helpful and gentle and so kind that Jon has to blink away tears. “There’s a good lad. Take ‘im to the closest A & E, will ya?” Jon watched as he shoved a pocketful of bills in the cabbies hand.

“Ed, you’ve already done enough-”

“Nonsense,” he waved Jon off, still looking at him with that mix of warmth and concern that Jon so desperately needed. “You just get that checked out, y’hear? An’ come back in one piece!” With that, he shut the door and gave him a wave, standing in place until the car was out of sight.

Jon couldn’t hold back his tears after that.

_______

Jon comes in the next day, arm freshly broken and in a sling, medicated to the gills. He paused at first, considering not taking the pain medication but he eventually gave in as the pain progressed throughout the morning. He’s a little late and he’s going to have to march past his assistants’ desks and attempt to avoid questions.

“Whoa there, boss! What happened?” Tim says immediately upon his arrival. Jon avoids his gaze and looks to the ground, walking as quickly as possible to his office and shutting the door. He deserves a bit of peace before the inevitable interrogation.

Of course, he would never be so lucky. All three assistants are soon hovering around the doorway, looking at him with a worry he doesn’t deserve. He sighs as he casts his eyes to the desk and slumps down in his chair.

“Took a spill yesterday, nothing serious,” he mutters in as staid a tone as he could manage. “Now, if you could please get back to work-”

“You’re not getting out of this that easily,” Sasha says, coming over to his desk, Tim not far behind. Martin stays in the doorway, ever polite. “You were fine we left!”

“It happened shortly afterwards. I advise none of you to use the stepladder for the time being.” He manages a weak smile that none of them return.

“Stepladder? Boss, I told you not to use that anymore!” Tim plops down in a chair, legs immediately going over the arm of it. Jon always imagined them talking in the office like this- a stupid fantasy he entertained when he first got the position. No one had ever sat in those chairs, they just stood in his office and counted the seconds until they could leave. ‘Why didn’t you ask us for help?”

“I-I was going to,” he begins, feeling instantly guilty at the thought of making them feel bad. “But- well, you looked like you had plans.”

Tim and Sasha exchanged a look. “You should’ve at least called us when it happened,” Sasha says, a hand on his desk. Jon aches to take it. “We were right around the corner.”

“I know,” he says. He feels out of it, vulnerable and loose and unmoored. Likely from the meds.

“You knew and you still didn’t call?” Martin this time, his voice incredulous.

“I didn’t think you would come,” his voice is no more than a whisper and his chest aches something fierce. His hands tighten into fists at the silence that follows; he nervously starts to fill it.

“I know-look, it’s fine we’re not friends any more,” he starts, trying to keep his voice level. “But it- it just seems like you don’t want me to be your boss either?” His voice goes higher in pitch and he can’t seem to stop babbling. “I just- I need to know where I stand. So I know what’s okay to ask. I know this isn’t ideal but I- I need help sometimes. Not a lot, just...just sometimes.”

“Jon,” Tim has a hand on his arm and an urgency in his voice. “That’s not- of course we would have come. Of course.”

“I didn’t want you to laugh at m-me.” Christ, could he not get a handle on his emotions for five goddamn minutes? Why was he still talking?

“We would never laugh-”

“But you did!” The words burst forward, almost a yell. “I-I saw you the other day. With Ryan- laughing at me. You know I don’t-” The breaths come quick and he can feel the tears coming down his face. God, what a mess he was. “I don’t understand where it all went wrong. If- if you don’t like me, why did you accept this job? Why are you here? What- what do I need to do better? Why were you laughing at me!” Jon dissolves into a mess of sobs as he slams his chair back from his desk, desperate to put as much space as he could between himself and his assistants.

But Jon never gets what he wants. Tim has his arms wound gently around his body, taking care to avoid the sling. And Sasha is there, a hand on his back as well.

“We- we weren’t laughing, Jon,” Tim tries, but Sasha cuts in.

“But we didn’t exactly tell him to knock it off, did we?” Her voice is angry and Jon doesn’t know who it’s aimed towards. He feels so stupid, so childish for breaking down like this but he knows what he saw. What he heard. “Ryan’s a jealous dick, he was just being mean. And...I guess we were being sort of mean, too.”

Tim takes over from there. “Look- things have gotten messy since we came down here, yeah? We’re...adjusting, that’s for sure. And I’m sorry that we made you feel like you did something wrong.”

“I- I did though, I must have-”

“No- Jon, look at me,” He hazards a glance at Sasha’s face, looking anywhere but her eyes. “You know me. Emotions aren’t particularly my forte. It’s- it’s a lot easier not to talk about things, but that doesn’t mean it’s right. It was a lot easier to hold onto my anger at being passed over, y’know?”

“If you told me- I would’ve had Elias switch us, I swear-”

“We don’t have to switch. To be honest, I don’t think I know how the fuck an Archive is supposed to be run either. At least not one like this,” She gestures to the room and Jon manages a weak smile.

“I’m not very good when things get messy, either,” Tim admits, leaning awkwardly on a file cabinet in order to keep an arm around him. Jon hopes the gesture is genuine, and not just an attempt to placate the man having an emotional breakdown in the middle of the office. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’ve been a right ass. So while I’m trying to make it up to you, how about you let me and Martin handle the top shelf from now on, yeah?” The joke feels familiar. This is territory Jon can manage.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jon wipes a hand across his face, finally feeling a bit more stable. “S’fine. I forgive you.” He takes the tissue Sasha offers. “Sorry for being so- er, dramatic. The pain medication is quite something, to be honest.”

“Oh God,” Sasha is suddenly all business. ‘“You shouldn’t be at work right now. Not like this- Tim’ll take you home, right?” Tim nods, tightening his arm around Jon’s shoulder.

“Yeah- you’re not going to get anything done like this, Jon. Have a rest, Sasha’ll tell Elias what’s going on, yeah?”

“Of course.”

There it is again- of course. Maybe if they keep saying that, it’ll make it true.

Jon doesn’t argue as he’s ushered out of the Institute- whatever that was took a lot out of him, and he knows he’s useless to his team like this, dazed and unstable. Martin follows them outside- Jon had almost forgotten he was there. He had slipped out of the office during the worst of it, kindly giving them some space. He wants to thank him but he doesn’t know how. Instead he listens as Martin rattles off all the things Tim should watch out for, like a nervous mother hen.

“I got it, Martin,” Tim says patiently. “But I’ll call you if anything happens.” Martin reluctantly backs off, giving the two of them a wave as they drive out of the parking lot.

“Jon,” Tim begins, putting a special emphasis on his name. He missed being called Jon. “You know I’ll always come when you call. I promise. I’d- I’d never laugh at you, not like that.”

You know. Of course.

“Okay,” Jon responds, staring out the window. He hopes it’s true. If not, well- the words are a start, right?

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334912

#my writing #prompts #tma #the magnus archives #angst #whump #some hurt/comfort #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sasha james #loved this prompt!#janekfan

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marsupials-of-mars · 4 years

Text

It Surfaces on the First Freeze of Winter (Pt 3)

"Yes, I can get the results to you, just give me a moment." Logan sandwiched his phone between his ear and shoulder and reached for his laptop. He opened a new email and attached the Excel spreadsheet full of tediously recorded lab results. He typed up a subject and a brief body and sent it. "I apologize for the wait, this disorganization won't become a habit of mine... yes, I'm suprised as well... no I don't need a sick day." Logan quickly covered the receiver before he sneezed. "Yes... yes I fell into ice water... well thank you for your concern, but it was nobody's mistake but mine... yes ma'am. Thank you ma'am. See you tommorrow, yes. Goodbye." Logan allowed his boss to hang up first. He was relieved that his reputation as a near perfect lab assistant was paying off. He basically had a steel cable safety net with how perfect his record was at that point. He prided himself on his workplace perfection; he and his boss were even working to get him a promotion of some kind. That made it all the more odd that he had forgotten to turn in his data the previous night. Whatever had happened had taken a far greater toll on him then he thought it did, his mind often drifting back to the night's events without his concious effort, making it difficult to focus. He had an urge to go back, to find his attacker and inspect every inch of it, regardless of his schedule or his job or his financial stability. The beast seemed so much more important, no matter what he told himself to the contrary. It felt big, revolutionary, life-changing. He finally gave up. He shut his laptop and grabbed a notebook and writing utensils. He slig them into his work bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Roman! I'm going to work!" Roman's head peeked out through the kitchen doorway. "I thought you didn't have work today? That was the whole reason we went out last night." "I forgot to write it on my schedule I guess." Roman gasped dramatically. "YOU? Forgot to schedule something?! The end must be coming for us all!" Logan rolled his eyes. "Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, simple statistics." "Alright. But take care of yourself, stay hydrated. I'm not gonna let you get sicker after I went through all that trouble pampering you last night." Logan could still almost taste the hot cocoa and chicken chicken noodle soup and feel the blankets wrapped around him from the previous night. "I'll be okay. If it's any consolation, you're in my will. Bedside drawer, you can't miss it." "Shut up!" Logan smiled slightly and pulled on his coat. He grabbed his galoshes and ducked out the door. The drive seemed much longer without Roman, even though they hadn't talked much anyway. Logan gripped the wheel in anticipation. And maybe a hint of guilt for lying to Roman, but he reminded himself of his reasoning. He was a little apprehensive, considering that he was reentering dangerous territory without Roman's extra protection, though he might have been even more scared of the alternative. He tried not to consider that he may have come out for nothing, that he may have to live never finding out what the thing really was. He thought back to Roman's legend, the note that the creature only emerged on the first freeze of winter during a half moon. Logan hoped, considering that that part was a little more ghost-story like, that it was merely dramatization. After all, species weren't nearly that specific. He pulled once again into the empty gravel lot. He checked the temperature. Not freezing, but not warm either. Thirty-eight. He took a breath and gripped the swiss army knife in his coat pocket before stepping out into the chill. The woods looked much different in the day; much less intimidating. Logan plunged into the swamp with little hesitation. It was a bit difficult to locate the scene of his fall considering how dissimilar everything seemed in the light, but after a relatively short amount of time, Logan found it. He dipped his hand into the water and grabbed a piece of hard plastic. He shook out the poor, waterlogged flashlight and tucked it into his pocket. It was of no use to him, but he wasn't one to litter. He looked out intently across the still surface of the water for any disturbance. A few minutes went by. His eyes flicked toward some fresh ripples. Just a twig fallen from a tree overhead. He sighed as he finally began to reflect on what he was doing, how dumb it was, how much time he was wasting. The longer he stood the more stupid he felt. Until he felt something glide across the toes of his boot. He jerked his foot back and reached out for a nearbye tree. He gripped it for stability and retrieved his knife from his pocket. He brandished it down toward the water. Against his better judgement, he forced himself to remain still. Once again, he felt something slide over his foot. It wasn't a tentacle, it was larger, heavier. The body. Logan waited a second longer to be sure. The creature rested its weight against his leg. Logan sucked in a breath. Just as he felt tentacles begin to wrap his foot, he kicked. His leg strained under the weight and his foot was enveloped by boneless flesh, but he managed to throw it off. The beast breached the surface of the water, just long enough for Logan to see a dark green mass of writhing tentacles, before crashing back into the swamp, sending waves tall enough to soak Logan's socks. Logan gripped his blade and plunged his arms in where the creature had fallen. They were met with what he imagined a human corpse would feel like after a month soaked in vinegar. He resisted the urge to let go and wrestled the cephalopod from the water. Before it could slip out of his arms, he strained his back muscles and swung his upper body, effectively granny-tossing the beast into the risen root system of a fallen tree. A chorus of wet flopping sounds accompanied the creature's struggle, similar to one repeatedly lifting spaghetti and dropping it back into a pool of sauce. It soon realized it's helplessness, now tangled uselessly in roots and it's own tentacles, and ceased to thrash. Logan blinked, still reeling from the adrenaline. The cryptid of the Florida swamps. He had it. He hesitantly stepped forward to get a closer look. The creature let out a pitiful noise, a bubbling, growl-type whimper. Logan reached out, and rather than recoiling, the thing reached out as well, matching his approach. Logan retracted his hand, prompting another whine. He inspected the creature: it was primarily a dark grey-green, though it had scalloped patterns of black which grew and shrank, seemingly dependent on it's level of distress. It's eyes were surprisingly human in external shape, though they were a fluorescent green and it's pupils were shaped similar to those of a cuttlefish, in misshapen Ws. Most suprising, though, was that it was vaguely human-shaped, with a similarly proportioned torso and head, though its limbs split off into tentacles. It's beak, which Logan could only assume it had, was hidden under a Cthulu-style beard of tentacles. Overall the creature was abhorrent, in a beautiful sort of way. It was much less terrifying out if water, limp and surprisingly small. While attacking him in the water it had seemed easily larger than Logan, but in reality it was about five feet long at most. It suddenly began to emit some uncomfortable bubbling noises, and before Logan could interfere, it had thrown up a full fish skeleton and a half-digested snake, along with a foamy froth of salt water. "Oh!" Logan once again reached out but stopped himself. He had no plan after this point, a very rare sensation for him. The creature was clearly terrified and couldn't survive long out of water, but if it was returned it could become aggressive. It whined once again, another bit of foam spilling into the water, sending light ripples that lapped at Logan's shins. Logan wracked his brain for anything potentially helpful. He cupped his hands and dipped them into the water, then threw the handful of water at the creature. It hissed at the spray, followed by a long, drawn out rumble in it's throat. It must not have been water it needed. Once again, the creature extended a tentacle toward Logan. It didn't seem aggresive, rather, it was more needy, like a child making grabby hands to be held. A very stupid thought crossed Logan's mind, one that in any other circumstance he would have rejected immediately. But he had nothing better. He bundled the end of his coat sleeve in his fist, allowing no opening. He pocketed his knife and readied his other hand on his zipper. If the creature got ahold of his coat, he could throw it off and escape. He readied himself, and reached his protected hand toward the beast. The cephalopod trilled in what appeared to be joy, and immediately took hold of Logan's arm. Before Logan had the chance to unzip, it had freed itself from the roots and made it's way up his arm, around his shoulders, and squeezed down the back of his coat. Logan froze in shock at the sudden cold sogginess embracing his entire torso. He grabbed a tree with one hand to manage the sudden weight, and with the other, he produced his knife from his pocket. Before he could reach back to defend himself, though, he felt the beast's head nuzzle into his back. It seemed oddly content. Logan blinked and cautiously lowered his knife. If he didn't need to damage the specimen, he supposed he shouldn't. "I won't hurt you if you don't hurt me." Logan found he'd begun speaking to the creature despite himself. It let out a peep, then a series of rumblings. It's tone began to shift, slowly evolving from bubbling to grumbling to vocal outbursts that sounded strangely similar to a human voice. Then something that was hardly expected; "I won't hurt you- -don't hurt me." It wasn't fully human, it was pitched oddly, and sounded vaguely similar to Logan. Like a parrot. Logan's eyes widened and his mind raced. This thing was intelligent. This thing was important. This thing was absolutely incredible. "You talk?! Can you understand?" "-understand?" Logan's astonished breaths billowed out in frozen steam. "Why did you attack me last night? Why aren't you attacking now?" "-aren't- -attacking- -last night?" "You weren't attacking last night? You nearly drowned me. Why?" "Why?" The creature pushed on his back with it's head as if to nudge him on. "You want me to guess? So you can say it?" "-guess?" Logan thought over what had happened. If it wasn't attacking, why would it grab him? Why did it want him now? He shivered. He pulled his coat tighter to block out the cold. The cold... "You're cold blooded, aren't you? You're cold! You need external sources of warmth!" "-warmth!" Logan smiled. Incredible. "If I give you my coat, can I take you off of me?" "-give -coat, can- -take- off-" the creature loosened it's grip. Logan unzipped his coat and pulled it off, making sure it was accessible while not dropping it. The specimen climbed around to the front of his torso and oozed into the garment in his arms. Logan held the thing to his chest. "Do you need water? Most octopuses can survive out of water in moist environments for thirty to sixty minutes but it's rather dry out right now..." "-moist-" "You need water?" "-moist-" "What do you need?" "-moist-" Logan squinted. "Do you just like saying 'moist'?" "-'moist'? -'moist'? -'moist'?" The creature trilled in amusement. It had a sense of humor. Not a very good one at that, but it was another sign of an incredibly advanced organism. Logan waded over to the fallen tree and carefully set the beast down to free his arms. It's posterior tentacles wrapped the trunk for stability while it's anterior tentacles clustered into the coat sleeves. It bundled itself up and nuzzled into the fabric. Logan pulled his notebook from his drybag, sat on a nearbye tree, and began to sketch. He wasn't quite as good as Roman, but he could do structure. He held his pencil up to judge proportion and translated it to the grids of graph paper. His elation grew as he managed a scientific sketch. After ten minutes or so, the creature once again began to whine. Logan looked up from his work and tucked his notebook back into the drybag. He stood and made his way to his specimen. Upon touching his coat, he found that his prior body heat had left it and it had become fully damp and cold with salt water and mucus. The beast whined again. Logan checked his watch. He'd been gone nearly three hours, and it was another hour drive back. He'd need to leave soon for lunch. He was once again met with a dilemma. If he left the creature in the swamp, it would suffer in the cold. But he couldn't really bring it with him, and the swamp was it's habitat. It had presumably survived for twenty plus years having surfaced every freeze. "I'm going to leave. Can I have my coat?" The creature whimpered loudly, echoing out into the forest. "-my coat?" "No, it's my coat. I'll be back, and I'll bring you something warm that you can have, okay? Yes or no." The beast huffed. "-no." Logan sighed. "I promise I'll be back. I know you must be extremely cold... fine. You can keep the coat for tonight, but I'm taking it back tommorrow and giving you something you can keep." The specimen squeaked with joy and bundled itself tighter in the coat. "Try to keep it as dry as you can, or it won't be warm, okay?" "Yes- -keep." Logan reached out and layed his hand on the creature's head. It pushed up into his palm in response, relishing the warmth. Logan stepped back, allowing it to slip out of the coat and back into the water. It swam a few laps around him and once between his legs before poking it's bright green eyes out of the water. Logan made sure he had everything, patting his pockets. "Well. I'll be back... probably tommorrow morning. I have work at night." Logan doubted the beast knew what work was, but he found himself telling it anyway. "Do you... want me to call you something in particular?" "-call- -me-" the creature finished it's sentence with a loud trill, followed by a low growl and ending in a hiss. "Ree...mmm...sss." Logan felt ridiculous trying to name the beast based on it's inhuman noises, but he found himself playing along anyway. "Remus. Like twin. You seem to be a mimic octopus of sorts, with your color changes and vocal abilities. It's perfect. It can be your species name too. I don't quite know your genus, or even your phylum really with any certainty... but I can name your species, I can't imagine anyone has yet. Does that sound like a good name?" Remus darted around Logan's legs for a few more laps and surfaced once again, eyes bright. "Remus. -perfect. -good name?" Logan smiled. "Glad to hear it. I should tell you my name then, shouldn't I? Logan. I'm Logan." "Logan. -good name?" Remus twirled in the water. "Logan." "I'm glad you think so." Logan stared at the creature a few moment's longer before turning and heading back to his car. "Oh no you don't!" Logan turned to see Roman pointing accusingly. "Don't be a shut in! I gathered some ridiculous movies and you're going to watch one with me." Logan looked down at his sandwich and back up the stairs. He usually ate in his room, though he knew Roman disliked it for some reason. He sighed. "Okay." He turned back and gently set his plate on the coffee table. Before he could sit out of his own volition, Roman wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him down onto the couch. "ROMAN!" "Hm? There a problem?" Roman released his hold and blinked at Logan with innocent puppy dog eyes. Logan shoved him, breaking his facade into a quick bout of laughter. "You're an absolute menace." Logan fixed his hair and brushed himself off. "So what movies are you suggesting?" "Well, I wanted to be topical even if last night didn't go as well as we hoped." Roman flicked through his Netflix queue. "Our first option; The Creature from the Black Lagoon!" He imitated an old horror announcer, wiggling his fingers as if there were blood dripping down an imaginary title card in front of him. "Sound's patently ridiculous." "Exactly! Who doesn't like to riff on old horror flicks?" "I'm not generally one to 'riff'." Roman sighed. "I suppose not... then I guess that rules out 'Swamp Thing' too. Well if we want to take a bit of a departure we've got 'The Shape of Water'." Roman wiggled his eyebrows seductively. Logan winced. That was not something he necessarily enjoyed thinking about considering his morning. "Alright. We can watch Swamp Thing." "YES! You can be the Tom Servo to my Jonah!" "I will not be doing any riffing." Roman sighed. "Well then I'll do enough for the both of us." The show was as ridiculous as Logan had expected, and Roman's commentary, although silly, was quite entertaining. He found he had been subconsciously moving closer on the couch, not noticing until his shoulder touched Roman's. Roman looked over, but turned away quickly, almost as if he hadn't noticed at all. Within the minute though, he made another jab at the movie, using his resulting bout of laughter to slip an arm over Logan's shoulders. Not the most subtle or original of come-ons, but Logan's face flushed nonetheless. He returned the gesture by leaning into Roman's hold. The relative chaos of the last couple days was nearly forgotten in the moment. Logan spent the rest of the day brainstorming. He didn't want to reveal his secret to Roman quite yet, so he needed excuses to get out of the house. Of course work would be one, but that only made him think about how he'd manage his work as well as his escapades. The most clear but also most insane idea would be to bring Remus closer to him, but that was out of the question. He had nowhere to put it, Roman would most certainly find out, and their landlord hardly allowed guinea pigs let alone swamp monsters. Then that brought up another problem, being the creature's misery in the cold. Logan was certain it had lived through intense cold fronts before, but that didn't mean its suffering was to be brushed off. Logan chose to focus on the heat issue first and foremost. He considered ways to allow Remus relative warmth without removing it from its habitat. Anything electric would be unwise considering the water and distinct lack of electrical outlets in the middle of the forest. Coats were barely helpful either; the creature was cold blooded, so as soon as the coat lost warmth it would have no way to regain it. It would simply function as a windbreaker of sorts. Logan thought a moment. He pulled out his laptop and did a quick search. The idea was expensive, but doable. It would definitely be a good way to get the beast on his side. Logan found where to buy such a gift and closed his computer. He trotted down the stairs, grabbing a jacket on the way to the door. "Going for groceries!" "Don't strain yourself specs!" Logan ducked out the door and once again into his car. He started it, though before he pulled out he noticed the fuel gauge, indicating he was near empty. He sighed. This project was going to cost him an awful lot of gas.

#remus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders

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diddlesanddoodles · 7 years

Text

DUMPLING (GT/Fantasy)

Author’s notes: Where has this chapter been, you ask? Well, between some really hardcore adulting, swimming through bouts of depression, general laziness, and trying to put too much into this chapter, I finally got it down. I went back and forth so many times on how I wanted this bit to go because out of all the characters I have devised for this story, Keral is one of my favorite. And I hope after reading this chapter you like him too.

CHAPTER 15

She had taken the simple leather strap and metal medallion for granted, Nenani realized as she ran. And now, as her feet flew down the giant hall, she regretted it all the more. But there was also the near certainty that regardless of the marker, she very much doubted the ranger would care or mind the wordless command it represented.

But none of that mattered.

She was painfully aware of how futile her efforts were. The ranger was a trainer tracker along with being tall as a house. A human house, but still a house. Even for a giant, he was tall. Just like Farris. His brother. And yet none of those feeling she held for the kitchen master translated to his brother. She knew she had met him at some point many years ago when she was still small. Her family had been running from him. What reason could there be other than the plain old truth of it? They were human, he a giant. And many giants – though not all she had grown to learn – ate humans. She could not count on Farris’s brother being anything like him.

This day was not going well for her. Even as she ran, the words from the catacombs echoed in her head.

The flesh taken will be paid in blood and the dead walls will rise with gold.

Ever since coming to Vhasshal, she had been having odd dreams and for much of them she believed them just that. Dreams. She was in a strange place. Strange dreams should only be expected. Surely. And yet something was telling her that she needed to be paying attention. She could not know for sure or with any clarity, but…

...something was happening.

What kind of fire created light, but no heat? Why were there human tombs in a giant’s castle? Where the hell did her marker go? Whatever thoughts on these subjects her mind may have supplied in that moment, they were abruptly washed away with surprise when the light of the hallway was all at once cut off and Nenani’s vision was cast into shadow. Heavy, fowl smelling shadow. The bastard ranger had tossed his dirty coat over her like a net. The weight of the fabric pulled her down and she tumbled forward, landing hard and painfully onto her knees and slamming her palms onto the hard floor. She cried out in equal proportions pain and alarm, but wasted little time and was already pushing her way under the dragging weight of the wool.

“Fast lil’ buggar,” laughed the ranger, his voice incrementally muffled. “Don’t have much energy at th’moment to be chasin’ ya ‘bout the royal apartments, though.”

Nenani, feeling as though her options were dwindling and fast, decided to take up the piece of advice Farris had bestowed onto her after her last encounter with a ranger. So she filled her lungs until she felt her ribs creak and -

The world pushed down onto her, breaking her scream before it was more than a high pitched squeak. The fabric shifted and pushed in all around her and she could feel the large hands gathering up the coat and her along with it.

“Ah-ah-ah, nah ya don’t. Won’t be havin’ any a’that now,” said the ranger flatly. It was stifling inside the wrapped coat and Nenani pushed back and kicked as much as she could. “Just get nice n’ comfy in there, aye?”

It had been a long while since she had felt afraid of a giant. But between Craeg and now the ranger, Nenani was good and scared. No more bouts of bravery. Her confidence escaped her like the yolk from a smashed egg. And she felt tears well in her eyes and her chest heave. She gave up her exhausting struggles and settled into the confining folds of the fabric. And trembled.

She was a baby again. Alone. Snatched up by a giant with unknown intentions and behind her lips, she held the pitiful plea for her mother.

………………………………

“Oi there! Keral my lad, when did ya sorry arse get dragged back here, eh?” Nenani had gone quite and still after the ranger had caught her and began to walk off to wherever it was he was going. He had begun to climb a long set of stairs when she heard the muffled voice that she recognized and perked up.

That was Verhn. She knew him! He was the brew master, maker and manager the castles supply of beer, ale, and wine. He wasn’t kitchen staff, but he was often seen around and though Nenani had never actually held much of a conversation with him, she knew of him. And more importantly for her purposes, he knew of her.

“Just a bit ago,” replied the ranger. “Wont be stayin’ fer long though. A ranger’s work is never done.”

“Ah, well. Should’ve taken up my offer all them years ago t’be my apprentice, boy,” Verhn’s voice was filled with good humored admonishment. “Then ya wouldn’t be treking across half of creation fer no good reason months at a time. That whiskey a’yers is a big hit with the boys. Could’a been a master.”

“Could’a been a lot a’things, old man. But, what can I say? I wanted to be a knight,” laughed the ranger.

Verhn laughed too and Nenani’s wool clad world buckled as he slapped Keral’s shoulder. “How’s that workin’ out fer ya, eh?”

“Kinda lost its flavor when I realized they were all pompous assholes.”

“Still not clear on why ya passed the Captain’s role fer the rangers, though.”

“Rheil’s a fine Captain, Verhn.”

“Oh, aye. He is just that. But anyone would’a looked better after Baynor.”

“I had my reasons,” replied Keral, the humor gone from his voice. “Baynor was a lot of things, but he was good at his job. Not much else though.”

Nenani shifted and waited for a lull in their conversation, having no notion of how muffled her voice would be or if Verhn would heard her or see her struggled. As the ranger’s last comment lead into a somewhat awkward silence, Nenani took her chance and began to thrash and cry out. The hands beneath her and the fabric immediately shifted and pressed down on her.

“What’s wrong with ya now?” Keral asked her in surprise.

“What in th’seven hells ‘ave ya got there?” Verhn asked, but before Nenani could call out to him, Keral spoke.

“Ah, just Farris’s lil’ squeaker,” he said, catching Nenani by surprise. So much so that she stopped her struggles and was still. Struck dumb by such revelations, Nenani allowed for the small spark of hope that maybe...just maybe...the ranger did not mean to hurt her.

“Caught ‘er wanderin’ round the royal apartments by ‘erself,” Keral continued. “And no marker t’be seen.”

Verhn released a short bark of a laugh that fadded into a twittering snicker. “No place fer that one, I’m sure. Though I bet ya can thank the King’s ward fer it. Them two ‘ave been scamperin’ all over the place since she arrived. Doubt she would’ve founder ‘er way there without ‘im.”

“That,” Keral replied with a barking laugh of his own. “I ‘ave no doubt. Haven’t seen the brat though. Might ‘ave to teach a few things about chivalry.”

“What would you be knowin’ about chivalry?”

“Oi, I’m plenty chivalrous. Look, I’m even ‘elpin’ a damsel in distress.”

“Not entirely certain it counts if yer the one causin’ the ditress, Keral,” Verhn said with a smile in his voice.

“Oh shut up, ya weasely old git. Don’t ya have some grapes to mash ‘er somethin’?”

“Aye, suppose I do, suppose I do,” Verhn replied. “I’m a busy man, m’boy. We all can’t be gallivanting around looking fer shadows and bandits now can we?”

……………

Keral continued up the stairs after saying his farewells to Verhn and Nenani remained very still and quiet. She listened instead and counted the steps he took in an effort to give her mind something to do other than panicking. After the 47th step, things seemed to level out and after perhaps a dozen or so steps, Keral paused and shifted his bundle of coat and human. As everything shifted and moved around her, Nenani blindly grabbed for the fabric, but her grip continually slipped as the fabric was pulled away. She tumbled head over feet and a sudden rush of cold air met hr before a calloused hand snatched her around her middle. She bit down on her cries and instinctively grabbed onto the giant’s wrist for stability.

“Yer alright, m’girl,” Keral chuckled. “No harm then.”

As her spinning vision returned to normal, she felt something solid press against her feet and the hand around her loosen its grip and pull away. She wobbled unsteadily, reaching out for balance and stumbling onto her already sore knees. She sat atop a small table, not unlike the elegant ones lining the royal apartments. However, this one was not of any comparable quality to those deeply rich dark wood, polished to a sheen and inlaid with mother of pearl and gold leaf. This table was a hard used, rough surfaced piece of furniture of practical use rather than decorative. Their only shared trait was their general shape and size. The hallway was bare and significantly colder than the other. There were no carpets of tapestries. Only a stone walled hallway and a frosted window that provided just enough of the gray day’s light to come through.

Keral was slinging the blue dyed coat back onto his shoulders, straightening it with a firm tug, before he turned his bright eyes down to Nenani. Her breathing consisted of short burst as her heart thundered in her chest and her hands wrung themselves into knots. The ranger regarded her quietly and Nenani struggled to maintain any sort of eyes contact.

She finally looked away and took a deliberate step back. “I...um...I don’t...”

“Know who I am, lil’un?” he asked, cutting her potential ramble off at the quick.

Nenani nervously licked her lips and nodded.

“And who am I?” he asked, the smallest of smiles on his lips.

“K-Keral,” she mumbled, wringing her hands so hard it hurt. “You’re the captain of the rangers. And y-you’re...F-Farris’s brother….”

He broke out into a grin that was surprisingly friendly and she found herself staring. “Aye, that’d be me.” Keral bent down without warning, startling her badly and she scrambled back. “There’s no need to be scared a’ me, lass. Mean ya no harm.” He paused, seeming to consider something. “I know who ya are, Nenani.”

She blinked stupidly up at him.

“H-how do you know who...” She trailed off. He straightened up and shrugged, a gesture so reminiscent of Farris that for a second, she could almost believe it was him under that coat, wild hair, and unkempt beard.

“It’s my business to know everything,” he replied with a sly grin. “But it’s nothing so special as ya might think. Seein’ as yer the only lil’girl ‘mongst our humans here.”

“But what about my marker? How’d you know I wasn’t trespassing or...” She belatedly realized this was a terrible thing to suggest, but before she could even finish her idiotic sentence, Keral was laughing.

“I just know,” he replied. “What I don’t know, however, is why in the blood hells were ya wandering around down some place ya had to business. By yerself. Without ya marker. Not pleasant to think about the Queen’s man findin’ ya. He’s a bit prickly.”

Nenani shivered at recalling her and Jae’s encounter with that very man, replying, “We did see him. Craeg. Jae and me, I mean. We were looking for the missing blackberry bush...”

The ranger rolled his eyes. “Still on that one, is he? Th’brat’s never gonna find it.”

“He might...” she replied, feeling oddly defensive.

“Nah,” Keral shook his head with a wicked grin. “’Cause I found it three months ago and it’s been sitting in a’cup on the window sill in m’room ever since.”

Nenani’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “But...that’s mean!”

“Mean?” Keral echoed in amusement. “Nah. That’s tame. I’ve done worse. So’s the brat. The lil’ wanker spiked my ale once with a red dragon pepper. Ever eat a red dragon pepper?”

“No...” she replied, a little confused.

“See that ya never do,” he advised. “Hurts going in, hurts comin’ out. But anyway, I took my time gettin’ ‘im back fer that one. Kid never could handle strong drink.”

“The wedding?” she asked. There was a certain twinkling of great amusement in Keral’s eyes. He did not have to say anything. “But that was awful!”

“Awful? I dunno ‘bout that. I thought it was quite funny,” he replied. “A lil’ gravy never hurt anyone.”

Her anxiety was forgotten and indignation rose up instead. “It was mean,” she insisted sternly, getting to her feet and pointing an accusing finger at the red haired ranger. “The Queen’s been mad at him ever since and Jae won’t talk to the King about it. He hasn’t slept in his own room for weeks! And then Craeg made it even worse and telling him that because the Queen’s gonna have a baby that the King didn’t need Jae around anymore and...and...”

She trailed off when she noticed the odd expression on Keral’s face and for a moment she was afraid she had made him angry. He was not looking directly at her, but seemed to look through her at something beyond.

“That so?” he asked, voice low and contemplative. She nodded nervously. But the seriousness of his expression faded back into one more genial with a sly title. He studied her for a moment, grinning. “Awfully defensive of ‘im there, lass. Ya sweet on ‘im, are ya?”

From the nape of her neck to the tip of her ears, Nenani blushed a fierce scarlet that she felt as a deep rush of heat spreading upwards. “No,” she replied. But Keral just laughed at her.

………………………..

#dumpling #GT #gt story #giant #human #nenani #Keral #Verhn #Keral is not scary he's just a huge dork #fantasy #Fantasy Story

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