mortal-made immortality

Outside of the rogues, Toby rarely trusted people. 

Ok, Ernest was an outlier, but only because he was actually really nice and was supportive of Toby, in that hard, commander way (ie. zealous use of 'Maggot!' and shouting). Honestly, it was helping Toby's self confidence make leaps and bounds ever since he signed up with the Battleborn, even if it threw him off sometimes. 

But the commando bird was on a mission to Bliss, recapturing an old UPR base, and his own flock - group, he reminded himself, the Rogues were definitely not aviants, even if sometimes they felt closer than his own biological family - were on Fortune's Favour, not onboard Nova. With this kind of thing, they would be the first he'd go waddling to, but alas, there was only him and a scattering of others preseny. And while they were on varying scales of niceness (Bene-jerk notwithstanding), the thought of approaching them with this problem made him want to keel over and die instead. 

Hence, he opted to wandering around the hulls of the ship like a feathery spectre, checking for faults, because faults could lead to holes, and holes could lead to failures, and failures could lead to systems malfunctioning, and systems malfunctioning could lead to Nova spiralling out of control and crash-landing onto one of the few planets left in the system, resulting in the fiery death of everyone onboard…

Even anxiety can ruin the easiest of tasks. Toby cursed. There also seemed to be a correlation between his stress levels and swearing, if the string of worries and extremities leaving his beak were anything to go by.

In fact, he was concentrating so hard on calming himself down that he didn't notice that he had barged into someone's space until he heard polite coughing from above, then a voice said, "Uh...you ok there?" 

His beak clamped embarrassingly fast as he finally took in his surroundings. He must've stumbled into the water reservoir, judging by the water tank. The large room was windowless and dark, lit only by the blue glow of the tank in the lower half. Perched on top of a floating platform was one of the newer members of their motley crew, who was blinking down at him. It took another second of panicking to remember her name; Alani, the monk from Akopos. Outside of name and general calm nature, that's all he knew about her. After all, he's only responsible for checking the background of potential rogues, not the rest of the battleborn. That’s Ghalt’s job.

"It’s-it's nothing, miss Alani, sorry to disturb you, it won't happen again, sorry." He stuttered out, the word running together into one, conjugated disaster.

He was already backing out of the room before Alani replied, "It's ok! It's just a bit weird how you just walked in here. Without knocking." 

"Sorry again." 

"Wait! I mean," she sighed. "I meant like how preoccupied you were. Unless you normally barge it to people's rooms un-announced?" She unhelpfully added. 

Toby made a noise of embarrassment, “Yeah, I don’t normally don’t do that. I was, uh, busy thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing really. Just me being my dumb self and worrying about nothing, so sorry to bother you again, miss Alani!”

Alani was silent for a moment, from contemplation or awkward shock (Toby's money was on the latter), then she said "Want to sit with me?"

He blinked. She patted the space next to her with emphasis, the movement setting the platform bobbing gently on the water's surface. Would it...be ok? He could always just say no...and end up disappointing her more than he already did right now. With that in mind, he took a deep, fortifying breath, and scurried up the ladder on the side of the tank. It was easy paddling across the short distance to the platform, with him sparing only a moment to voice a concern. 

"Uh, this is the ships water, right?"

"Yup." She confirmed. 

"...won't we end up drinking this?" 

"Yup.” She repeated. “Don't worry though, my nanobots- I mean, cleansing energy,  gets rid of pollutants. They work a lot better than any water filter." 

"But won't we be drinking them too?" 

"Yeah, they’re probably inside your body already."

Toby had nothing to say to that apart from a quick face of revulsion. He didn't say anything else however as he pulled himself to Alani's metal island and gingerly planted herself next to her. "Okay, I'm here. Now what miss?" 

"Meditate with me? Just copy what I do." And she closed her eyes, folding her hands pose-perfect onto her crossed legs. Aviant limbs weren't exactly great for crossing legs and twildling thumbs, so Toby let his flippers flop onto his outstretched legs, one on top of the other. 

"Like this?" He asked. She nodded, then her shoulders rose and fell in a controlled breath. Like a bad habit, Toby's mind leapt to the worst conclusion of even the ever patient monk losing patience, and he already prepared to leap from the platform and make a second attempt to an ungraceful exit. He was stopped by Alani’s sheepish smile. 

"Oops, sorry. I meant breathe slowly." She looked as sheepish as she could with one eye still closed. With a silent breath of relief, Toby inhaled and exhaled. Then repeated. And repeated. 

She stayed silent, letting the only sound be the echo of dripping water. Toby was aching to fill the quiet with something, anything, extending but not limited to the non-existent weather on the ship, but miss Alani didn’t look like she wanted to be disturbed, so he sucked it up and tried to meditate as she said. His thoughts, as always, started swirling again, like a shard storm that decided that it wasn't done wrecking havoc on a science dwarf's laboratory just yet. Before long, he was squirming in his spot, struggling to remain still like the monk next to him. He was frustrated too. Frustration at himself, at the meditation, even the tiniest bit at Alani for not seemingly solving his problem. That last one he shoved back down even if one small, dark bit really wanted to let it fester and grow. And that wherein was the problem - he was bad at recognising what was his fault and what was the fault of others, so it was easier to lump everything together and blame himself even for the smallest of things, because, in the end, it meant he could fix it, and he wouldn't be kicked out again for not fixing it. It meant that he was still wanted by those around him, because what was he without others needing him-?

That’s when he heard of the sound of water churning instead. "Please don't freak out." Was her only warning. The water rose above them in a dome, smoothing over and clearing like glass. Despite the way it enclosed over him, Toby felt anything but anxious. Rather, it seemed that the room, heck, even the entire ship, had faded away, leaving them in a small bubble of just him and Alani. Like every problem, every worry, was washed away, if for the moment, to be displayed for his perusal. 

"I thought it might help if you keep thinking of your worries being outside of the bubble.” Alani said. 

The words burst out of Toby’s mouth before he could stop them. “But they still get to me.”

“Yeah, and that sucks. Things get to me too.” Alani admitted. “But I think, hey, I got my bubble. They’re just...thoughts in here. Like butterflies, I guess. Man I miss butterflies.

“Ugh, I’m getting distracted. I got my bubble! You got a bubble too. I don’t think you can actually conjure one out of water, unless avians can and I just didn’t get the memo. But you got one. And when the worries come fluttering back, bring it up, mentally. You are here. You're here. You're going to be ok.”

And the weird thing was that Toby actually...started to believe her. He can’t will away the anxieties, otherwise this would be the perfect universe, but it’s a lot easier to look at them from this side of the bubble. Through the watery lens, he could imagine what would happen if his Berg malfunctioned in the middle of battle and not stop the shot that might take Whiskey's life. Or if a mine detonated at the wrong moment, catching Shayne and Aurox in the midst of their blood run. Not only failing the Rogues, but the entire Battleborn. They were terrible, horrible images, but with the blue tint on, his mind already picked out some solutions – increase the frequency of the maintenance rounds. Train with Shayne and Aurox more to get a feel for their behaviour on the field.

Trust them, instead of bottling it up and letting the hurricane carry him away. Of course, that's easier said than done.

"Miss Alani?" He ventured quietly. "Can I...come back whenever it gets bad?"

"Sure! Just knock first."

Yeah. He can do that. "Thanks. For helping a little."

Alani just smiled gently, and closed her eyes again. He followed suit and let himself be.

Next to her in the exact same pose, Ezra shrugged. "Dunno. Hopefully. I'm tired of them gazing sadly at each other from across the canteen. And meetings. And when they bump into each other in the corridor."

"I told you that night shift was keeping them apart. They just need to kriff."

Ezra made a strange noise, like a cross between a choke and a cough. "Sabine! I told you to stop that."

"Kriff, bang, knock boots, fuc-"

"HEERAAA, SABINE'S SAYING BAD WORDS AGAIN!"

Meanwhile, unaware of the squabbling outside the closet, Kallus held his head in his hands and leaned against Zeb more comfortably, hiding his face in Zeb's neck. "Should we tell them that we're already...together?"

"Nah," Zeb rumbled, wrapping a comfortable hand around Kallus' waist. "Means that I get to see you a lot more than at bedtime."

"You mean when they pull me out of work to lock us in another supply closet? Not very much of a date, is it?"

“Anytime I get to see you is good enough for me.”

Kallus stopped blushing in mortification to instead blush in embarrassment, which was a key difference (and a lot more flushing). "So what you're saying is..."

Kallus has always covered his wrists for a reason.

He was cursed to have both his wrists tattoo'd with the same name - the writing wasn't in anything that he could read, not until he was in the Imperial Academy. It only became apparent when he finally, finally, got his hands on a universal translator that it was doomed romance, for it was a foreign name, lasan, Garazeb. The Empire looked down on interspecies relationships, and thus, the choice was obvious; he bought a fine pair of soft leather gloves and filled his wardrobe with long-sleeved shirts.

It would have been better anyway. It was an age-old story of lovers turned to bitter rivals, and he couldn't fathom how one's enemy could even be turned to an ally, much less to a Force-mate.

Still,  that didn't mean that Kallus couldn't grieve for his doomed romance. He allowed himself moments of weakness when he saw couples on the streets, or hearing troops underneath his command bragging about their loved ones back on home planets. But it only reminded himself that it wasn't love or the Force that fed his hungry ambition, it was his own personal strive to be stronger, better, than that lost boy on the streets, scraping everything he had to survive. It strengthened his ambition to rise above the fanciful notions of weaker people and led him him to the lustrous ranks of the ISB. It was the only thing that warmed him at night.

Then came the rebels on Lothal, and that blasted Lasat.

Suddenly Kallus was confronted with the very real image of his Force-mate on the holovid as he and the rebel scum calling themselves 'The Spectres' managed to evade Lothal's forces again, and again, and again. It was as if it was a universal reminder of why he could never be with his Fore-mate. The Lasat stood for chaos, weak things, disorder-

But on that moon, the Lasat chose mercy over vengeance, even though he had all the right to finish off Kallus when he was weak with a broken leg. Garazeb had went even further and used their meager supplies to immobilise the limb. Why waste resources on him? For pity? Mercy?

He was still mulling over it after the whole incident, back on with the Imperial Fleet, where no-one spared a glance at him as he limped back to his quarters. He knew protocol was to report to the ship's med bay, but the thought of indifferent cold droid digits being on him...

He opted for grabbing the bacta from his emergency first aid kit.

He swallowed down the whine of pain as the gel settled on his skin, but it was fine. He dared to glance at the meteor still sitting on the bedside table just behind him, then back at his gloved hands. And slowly, he tugged them off, revealing dark words against pale skin.

'By the way? My name's Zeb.' The Lasat had said.

And Kallus had replied he knew, he knew.

The swearing stopped. A moment later, the window got rolled down, and Kallus' frown appeared, bringing a blast of heated air Zeb's way. "May I help you Mr. Orrelios?"

"Seems like you're havin' car troubles."

"Yes, well, thank you for noticing that." Kallus said, then went back to turning his engine on in vain. When Zeb didn't move from his spot, Kallus turned back to him and snapped, "Is there anything else?"

Now this was new - usually Kallus' face held thinly veiled contempt or placid customer service friendliness - but right now, he looked pissed off enough to try arguing with Zeb. So of course Zeb kept talking. "Do you usually drive home after work?"

"Yes." Kallus said through gritted teeth.

"So whereabouts do you live?"

"Zuzu city."

Zeb whistled. "That's pretty far. And you drive there and back everytime?"

"Yes." Kallus said, and didn't elaborate on that.

As if to remind him that it was the middle of winter, the wind picked up, sending shivers through Zeb, despite the warmth of Kallus' air conditioning. That was then the engine gave one last whine then stilled, no matter how many times Kallus cursed and turned the key. Zeb decided to throw him a bone.

"I got a spare room at my place. Why don't you stay the night, then we can take a look at your car in the morning."

Kallus made a face as if he was considering freezing himself rather than accept the offer, but then, he sighed, his frown turning more forlorn. "Fine." He turned off the car completely, halting the blast of hot air, then exited. At least he's wearing a parka, Zeb thought, even if it was a bright blue Joja Mart brand and looked ugly as anything. Kallus shivered as he started to follow Zeb, huffing into cupped palms.

"Be careful of the ice," Zeb said. "Especially at this part of the path-"

There was a skid, then a sharp gasp, then sound of someone eating shit on the ice-hard ground. Zeb whipped around and saw Kallus raising himself on his elbows, groaning. Zeb carefully stepped over to him. "Crikey, you ok?"

"I'm fine." Kallus bit out. He tried to get to his feet but cried out, clearly the opposite of fine.

"Here, let me help." Zeb said, offering out a hand. Kallus looked at it with disdain. "C,mon, I don't bite." Zeb continued. "Unless I really like you."

With great trepidation, Kallus took the hand and let his arm get slung around Zeb's shoulders, Zeb's hand secure on his waist. It was much slower going, but definitely safer. He could feel the long line of Kallus' body taut with pain and stiffness, trying to keep as much pressure off his bad foot as possible. The snow drifted around them, turning a short walk into a long trek into the dark unknown. All they had was the light of the lamposts and the cobblestone pathways that Zeb knew like that back of his hand. The air was silent with the hush of freshly falling snow.

Finally, the glow of the barn's lanterns came into view and Zeb breathed a sigh of relief. "Home sweet home." He guided Kallus through the front gate and up to the house.

“I’m surprised you didn’t live in a barn.” Kallus said. Zeb bristled, but chose not to rise to the bait.

“Y’might change your mind when you come in.”

Kallus was wrong; so, so wrong, and it’s come to bite him in the ass. The ass part was figurative, the biting, literal.

He groaned as the subjects of his concentration scraped down the side of his neck, before resting at his pulse point. He shivered.

“Tell me how I’m doin’ here,” Zeb said against the hollow of Kallus’ jawline. “Because I’ve never made out with a human before. Is this thin’, uh, doin’ anything for ya?”

Kallus laughed helplessly. “You have no idea.” The laughter turned more genuine when Zeb nuzzled into the hollow point of Kallus’ clavicle, brushing the rough whiskers of his beard into the ticklish spot. “Hey, that tickles!”

He felt Zeb grin there, pleased as anything, before lifting his head to look at Kallus in the eye. “Want more or nah?”

“I think,” Kallus said breathlessly, “We can stop there.”

“Yeah. Prob’ly too soon to introduce these bad boys.” Zeb grinned toothily, showing the very star of Kallus’ daydreams. “At least for our first kiss.”

Kallus’ insides turned into a warm puddle of goo, but he had just enough of his braincells left to coyly ask, "Unless?"

Zeb's teeth were sharp. Very sharp.

Not that Kallus has really noticed or anything of the sort. It was just something he noted in passing when he was chatting with Zeb, or eating meals with him, or even way back then when he was part of the Empire and he more in more close quarters than usual (usual being none whatsoever).

Although he hadn't been in those type of...close encounters like nowadays; Kallus now had the semi-freedom of studying those teeth at his own perusal as he watched Zeb recount a story about Ezra and some stolen tie-fighter. It was a fascinating story, really, and Kallus chuckled in the appropriate spots, but his mind kept wandering back to Zeb's unfairly pointed canines. Bless his ability to multi-task, bet his teachers never thought instilling it would be used for something so mundane yet inspirational-

"Kallus? Kal?" Zeb's voice broke through his thoughts.

Kallus blinked back to the present, barely stopping himself from blurting out, 'teeth'. Instead, he smoothly transitioned his face into one of interest. "Apologies, I was merely imagining how the scene would be in my head."

Zeb narrowed his eyes, and Kallus was then painfully reminded that Zeb was also Captain of the High Honour guard for a reason. "That so?"

"Mm." Kallus said as innocently as he could. An unstoppable force (Zeb's eyebrow raise) meeting an immovable object (Kallus' years and years of training). Truly, a force of wills.

At last, Zeb shrugged and continued where he had left off. Kallus listened with genuine interest while heaving a silent sigh of relief. His secret fascination was safe for another day to mull over. Or ruminate, depending on the amount of guilt that decided to assuage him on the day.

"Shame Zeb couldn't join us for the night." Hera mused as the Ghost crew - minus said person - ambled their way back to the Ghost ship. Yavin 4 may not boast about its vibrant nightlife, but the rebels really do know how to party, especially with a crate full of stolen Imperial-certified alcohol.

Really, it was too bad Zeb decided to skip it altogether and head back to the Ghost for a well earned nap. Not that Ezra thought he could sleep with the buzzing underneath his skin. The impromptu party was a good send-off before the mission in the morning, and Ezra found it hard to fight off the good mood as he raced up the ramp.

"Hey, don't wake up Zeb." Kanan called out behind him, missing the point. He followed Ezra at a more leisurely pace, just in time to bump into his frozen back. "What's the hold-up Ezra-?"

"Um," Kallus said, cheeks pinking. "Hello?"

No-one greeted him back - they were probably too busy gaping at him and his half-dressed states, including hastily combed back hair and a shirt that was a few sizes too big. It didn't help that Zeb followed a moment later, who froze behind him. "Karabast." He muttered.

Ezra was the first one to break the silence. "Seriously? In my room?"

"It's my room too kid." Zeb growled at him, then sheepishly scratched the back of his had. "We weren't expectin' you guys to be back for a while."

"We decided to cut drinking night early, get a good rest for the mission tomorrow." Sabine answered lightly.

Kallus took in the stunned faces and sighed. "Well, don't let me keep you from your beds. Sabine. Captain Hera." And then because his politeness deemed it so and most likely because he might as well keep going, "Kanan. Chopper. Jabba. I'll see you in the morning Garazeb."

Keeping his head held up, he tried to make his way out but Hera stopped him with a light touch on his elbow. "We're not kicking you out, Kallus."

"We're not?" Ezra said, followed by an 'Ow!' when Chopper rolled over his foot menacingly, beeping all the while.

Hera continued like she hadn't heard that comment. "Zeb clearly invited you here so, I'm going to go on with my business, and by my business, I mean I'm going to bed. That applies for the rest of you lot."

"But Kallus is in my room!" Ezra protested.

"Then you can room with me for now Ezra." Kanan replied, laying a firm hand on Ezra's shoulder. "C'mon, let's get some sleep."

Ezra muttered "As long as we don't have to meditate." as he let himself be pushed by Kanan. When they passed by Zeb and Kallus, Esra punched Zeb's arm lightly, then, after a moment of hesitation, he nudged Kallus' arm too. "Nighto guys."

Kallus stared, wide-eyed, as they left. Sabine passed by as well, nodding at the two, before Hera and Chopper walked up to them. "Welcome aboard Kallus." She said warmly. "And by the way? It's just Hera.” Then she left without waiting for a reply.

At long last, Kallus turned to a still stunned Zeb. “I feel as if I’ve been introduced to your family all over again.”

“Yeah,” Zeb said, “Better get used to it.”

Strix slowly woke to the sun falling through the curtains and the sounds of morning - birds chirping, the ebb and flow of cars driving by, and gentle breathing under him. He nuzzled deeper into the warmth of Viktor’s chest, prompting a snort. “Mornin’.” Viktor rumbled. Strix just rested his cheek against Viktor’s pec and grunted in return, feeling a kiss pressed to the top of his head.

Strix rolled so that he was leaning over Viktor, and gave Viktor a proper good kiss, even though their combined morning breath made his lip curl in slight disgust. Still, it was lazy and slow, the type he liked during which he could savour the other things. He felt Viktor’s hand carefully run through his hair, cupping the back of his head reverently, like he’s still trying to believe this wasn’t a lovely, hopeful dream.

The kiss had only started getting a little more interesting when the front door slammed open and shut. They both froze. “Pa! I’m home!” Kinessa’s voice echoed.

“Shit,” Viktor hissed. “Wasn’t she at a friend’s place?!”

“Arturos must’ve dropped her off before work.” Strix answered as he got up. Viktor followed him out of bed, already scanning the room for his clothing with care that had been absent last night.

“Blyat, I think I left my pants on the staircase-“

“Catch.” Strix said, throwing something. Viktor caught it in one hand and grinned.

“So that’s where it went.” He quickly pulled up his briefs and buttoned up his shirt as Strix climbed into pajama pants and threw on his dressing robe, though he paused tying it when he glanced at Viktor who was standing near the window.

“Vitya, don’t jump out of a second story window, that’s dangerous.”

“But I don’t wanna run into your daughter in my underwear.”

“I’ll go first then.”

Strix walked out of the bedroom and down the staircase, bending down to pick up Viktor’s pants and tossing it back up in a way he hoped was stealthy. There were already noises in the kitchen of china clinking and cereal boxes being ripped open. He leaned against the doorway and tried to look nonchalant. “You’re home early.” He mused.

Kinessa shrugged. “Cassie’s dad had something to do in the morning so he offered to drop me off along the way.” She answered, confirming his suspicions.

Strix ambled over to the fridge with deliberate slowness, making sure to make as much noise as possible as he rummaged through it. He couldn’t hear if Viktor was making his way downstairs, but that was probably a good thing then.

He decided – more out of necessity for noise than hunger – for toast and coffee. He closed the fridge and turned on the toaster and kettle. He let himself lean against the counter comfortably, facing the doorway to catch Viktor passing by. Good thing Kinessa was sitting with her back to it. “Good time at Cassie’s?” He asked.

“Yeah, we listened to music and did each other’s hair.” Kinessa said – or rather, sprayed with a mouthful of cereal, milk, and slobber. He frowned.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He chastised.

Kinessa made a big show of swallowing and poking her tongue out at Strix. He resisted the urge to do it back, instead listening to the soothing hum of the coffee pot boiling and the hum of the toaster. A shame that he couldn’t ask Viktor to join him for breakfast like they had done so many times before, but then again, this was the first time Viktor had to sneak his way out of the house.

Speaking of. Strix caught sight of Viktor tip-toeing past the kitchen, looking dressed but half-ruffled anyway, holding his shoes in one hand. Strix returned his gaze to Kinessa. “Did you bring in the morning paper?”

She shook her head, still chewing.

“Alright, I’ll go get it then.” He said. Luckily, Viktor had caught on to his plan, waiting for him at the front door and out of sight of Kinessa. Strix opened it and let him go through first, shutting the screen door behind them. Once he had his shoes on, Viktor pulled Strix close for a hug.

“I’ll see you later.” Viktor whispered into his ear, and pressed a chaste kiss to Strix’s cheek before turning around and making his way to his car. Strix flushed and watched Viktor leave. Finally, he bent down to do what he came for, and went back to the Kitchen. Kinessa was still eating her cereal, and even better, Strix’s own breakfast was ready.

He poured out a cup of joe and buttered his toast, then sat down opposite of Kinessa and opened up the paper. She lifted the bowl to drink the last of her cereal, wiped the back of her mouth with a hand, then dumped her bowl in the sink. She turned around with a somewhat smug grin on her face and said, “Y’know, you can just invite Vik to come eat with breakfast with us next time.”

Strix flinched and looked at Kinessa with wide eyes. “How?” He asked.

“I saw Viktor’s car on the way in. And also you try waaaayy too hard being laid-back.”

Strix closed his eyes and sighed. “So much for being stealthy.”

“You do realise I don’t give a crap about your love life, right? Well, that’s not what I meant, I mean I don’t care that Vik comes over sometimes for a booty call-”

“Kinessa, you shouldn’t even know what that phrase means.”

“I’m a teen, of course I know what it means. Don’t distract me. Point is, you and Vik don’t have to hide being together.” Her expression softened. “You supported me when I started dating Cassie, it’s only fair I support you too.”

Strix’s heart ached. Sometimes, he wondered what he did to deserve a kid like Nessie. “Thanks, Ness.”

Kinessa’s expression turned crafty again. “Not that I’m expecting marriage anytime soon. Don’t rush into anything you’re not ready for.”

“This is revenge for when I talked about marriage with you, isn’t it.”

Time was difficult to parse in the Mist, but when its darkened edges started ebbing and flowing beyond the isles’ shores, he knew it was that time of the year, when the sun’s eclipse was starting, and the Mist’s power became more powerful with the waning daylight. There was nothing else to do but follow it across the seas.

As it crept over the dark waves, he can feel himself gathering, solidifying, taking form of his favoured gambler’s coat and adorned hat. His deck of cards manifested in his hand as well, the wails and screams singing sweetly between his fingertips as he twirled a card. When he finally manifested, he glanced down and saw a rowboat, missing its oars. In it was a man lying on his back with his arms slack at his sides, as if he was in a coffin, but blood bloomed on his shirt instead of flowers. The spectre only gave him a once-over – no use if the man was already gone – but before he moved on, he saw the chest rise and fine, however minutely.

Ah, so this one’s a fighter. This would make an excellent addition to his collection.

He let himself descend onto the lip of the boat and perched gracefully, not even causing the smallest of rocking. The man must’ve sensed the cold of the spirit, because he cracked open an eye to peer at the ghost. “If you’re here to take me back to jail,” He rasped. “Then you’ll have to take me back in a casket.”

Twisted Fate allowed a chuckle. "No mortal, but a worse fate befalls you, for you are in the Black Mists of Shadow Isles."

"Reckoned normal fog doesn't look this dark and menacing." He drawled back.

"Still so full of spark. You're taking this dying thing very well."

A grimaced shrug. "My life can't get any weirder than talking to a ghost right now."

Oh, he liked this one. Most mortals would've started cowering in terror by now, or begging for their lives. This man, however, had grumbled and glared out at him, as if Twisted Fate had simply disturbed his drink at the bar instead of coming to claim his soul. The spectre said, "I like you mortal. What's your name?"

The man narrowed his eyes, but answered regardless, "Graves. Malcolm Graves."

"A fitting name, Malcolm Graves. Would you like to make a wager?"

Graves' brow furrowed, but his beady eyes glittered. "...what kind?"

"A game of aces. You win, you get a life of riches beyond your imagination.  I win, I get to keep your soul for eternity."  He extended a hand. "We got a deal?"

Graves eyed the hand, then T.F's face, before cautiously shaking it. "On one condition: you tell me your name."

Fair enough. "I am Twisted Fate now." He pulled back, helping Graves to sit up. Wisps of glowing light left their palms, the residue vitality fading into the night like fireflies. It wasn't enough to save him, no, just enough that he could breathe and play without doubling over in pain. It showed on Graves' face when he sat upright proper with only minimal wincing. Twisted Fate sat down on the opposite bench and set out his cards between them, souls crying out ever so sweetly. A taste of Graves' doom.

"So," Twisted Fate started. "Feelin' lucky?"

-

"Feeling lucky?"

Tobias Foxtrot shivered - he was only allowed a small raft and the clothes on his back when he was exiled, which was no match for the autumn sea's turbulent  winds. Gooseflesh rippled along his skin, but at least, trying to comfort himself, it was from the cold night, and not from the apparition in front of him, holding out a pack of cards. Tobias took them with forced languidness. "I've got shuffling rights, I presume?"

The spectre nodded. Tobias' nimble fingers made quick work of the deck before he dealt them out, grinning with bravado he didn't feel.

-

"You do this for every man you run into?" Graves muttered, breaking the silence.

It had been an interesting few minutes since the cards had been dealt and they looked at their respective hands. A few quiet minutes too, only with minimal grunting or hums from either of them. Plenty of staring though, as Fate eyed over the man currently frowning at the set of cards. He was rough, beard and moustache grown uncontempt, but Fate assumed it had once been groomed into something magnificent, once upon a time. His clothes were in disarray as well, bloodstains aside. Simple and grey. Prison-clothes.

Anyways, he should be saying yes, when there's a soul to add to his growing collection. "Only for the handsome ones." Was what he said instead.

Graves glared from behind his fan of cards. "Did any of them win?"

"Now where would be the fun in telling you that?"

Graves drew a card and laid it down. "That only tells me that no-one did."

T.F hummed thoughtfully and decided to indulge. "No, there have been people. Rare occurrences, but occurrences nonetheless."

Graves frowned at that, his jaw grinding as if chewing an invisible cigar. Thinking tic or frustration tic?  Fate leaned on his open palm, smirking when he saw Graves' eyes follow the movement. "How do you like your odds?"

"Now," Graves started, one side of his impressive moustache twitching up. "Where would be the fun in telling you that?"

-

This was still winneable, Tobias thought to himself. Not desperately, of course, lest it show on his face.

The first card was a like start of a bad omen, or the first card in a terrible tarot spread. None of his cards, hidden or otherwise, would win him this round. With a sigh, he spread out his cards.

"Your hand's not looking good so far, Riverchild?" His opponent said.

Tobias scowled at both the offending cards and at the spectre. He hadn't been welcomed back to the river in years. "I don't take kindly to that title. I'm not one, not anymore."

"There's a story behind that I'd imagine."

"There is. Doesn't mean I'm mighty wanting to retell it."

A whisper of laughter, in the wind or from the ghost sitting opposite of him? "Then what would you like to be referred to as then?"

Tobias looked at him in the ghastly, sunken, eyes. "The man who outplayed death."

-

It was close now - Twisted Fate can feel the Black Mist starting its ebb back to the Isles' moors. That, and their scores were currently neck to neck, down to the last hand of the last round. Twisted Fate didn't have much time left before the Harrowing was over. Amazing, that hours seemed to have flown by like seconds, interspersed with quips and jabs, each one more lighter than the last. By the end, they have been grinning like old friends, or perhaps, partners in the cahoots, and an idea was forming in T.F's mind, as solid and sharp as the card hidden in his sleeve.

For now, he hid his smirk behind his fan of cards. "So it comes down to this then. Y'trust your hand?"

Graves' eyes met his own straight on. "As much as you trust your own."

The fog watches, a shapeless audience, humming with excitement. At the exact same time, they laid down their cards.

Twisted Fate's smirk fell off his face as he stared not one, but two aces, one on each side. He and Graves glanced at each other in righteous surprise.

"I'd say one of us is a right scoundrel." Twisted Fate said, but his voice held no accusation, only mirth.

Suddenly, Graves' arm shot forward, gripping T.F's arm. The ace slipped out of the card sharp's sleeve before he could catch himself.

"Ha!" Graves said with triumph. "You're a cheat!"

With deft fingers, Fate pulled into Graves' sleeve to pull out an offending card. "Takes one to know one then."

They stared at each other in a silent contest of wills, their faces close enough for their breaths to mingle in the cold air. The fog grew even thicker around them in anticipation, like the captive spectators leaning forwards in their seats to see who would throw the first punch. There was no sound except for the lapping of water against the boat.

Then T.F tossed his head back and laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed.

When it finally died down, Graves was looking at him in curious suspicion.

"No-one's ever tried to out-trick the trickster." Twisted Fate wheezed out.  He was still grinning. "So I suppose we both won. I get to keep your soul,"

"Now wait a minute-"

"And you get your wealth."

Graves' bushy eyebrows knitted together oh so lovely as he frowned. "I'm not getting it."

"Oh, you will eventually." Twisted Fate said. He pulled Graves closer again, slipping his ace from his sleeve.

Then with it, he neatly sliced Graves' throat.

He didn't even make it hurt like he normally would - he gently laid Graves down as the man gurgled out blood and indignation, cradling his head like a lover's. Graves managed to look angry even as the life bled of him, as if he was simply annoyed about the situation rather than fearful, and Fate simply smiled back at him. As the light faded from Graves' dark eyes, emerald-coloured wisp floated from his lips, curling around the bloodied card, glowing intently for a moment, before fading into a dull shine. Fate grinned down at it, then tucked it into his vest's breast pocket.

The night was almost over. He could feel it in the way the fog rolled back towards the the Black Isles, the inevitable pull on every particle like a thousand strings, the way the other beings of the Harrowing howled their way back home. Just like them, he twirled a different card now between his fingers, spinning it faster and faster, until the air threatened to snap underneath the pressure.

And then he was gone.

-

Tobias stared at the other ace, a perfect copy down to the wear and tear on the fraying edges. The waters were still now, as smooth as glass, and the fog was glancing off it like smoke. Tobias didn't even dare to breathe as he watched for the spectre's  reaction.

He might be worse than dead.

The ghost continued staring at the twin Aces as Tobias continued holding his breath. Then, the spectre spoke,

"It seems that we have both won and lost."

Tobias gulped. The apparition ignored it. "I'm a man of my word," He continued. "You'll get your riches well enough."

Tobias frowned. "At the cost of my life? Doesn't sound worth it, if I'm not alive to enjoy them."

"There's  a different type of riches than you know of, mortal." The  phantom grinned and raised his scythe. "And you will have all of time to know them."

-

He was getting better at telling when it was the Harrowing time. He was faster at solidifying himself this time, managing to complete his form just as the moon peeked over the horizon on the seas. His pack of cards flicked themselves over his fingers, more reassuring than any rosary beads, as he watched, and waited.

Soon enough, another form materialised next to him. It may have been a year, but it would take much longer for him to forget that furry frown when the other spirit formed next to him.

"Damned cold here." Graves grumbled. He chose to wear a nice, thick serape, in a deep red. He fiddled with his cigar, lighting it, and it shone like a beacon in the dark. "Is it like this every year?"

"Stick around and find out." Twisted Fate answered back. Already, he could feel the edges of the mist creeping over the waves, further than last year's. T.F made to follow them, then turned around to face the other apparition. "You comin'?"

Graves shrugged. "Got nothin' better to do than scam a few mortals of their lives, do I?"

"It's always better with a partner in crime." Twisted Fate smirked, extending his hand. After a moment, Graves grinned at him and took it. And together they made their way to the unfortunates lost in the Black Mist.

Because after all, what was more valuable than a soul?

-

The old, the young, the rich or poor All alike to me you know. No wealth, no land, no silver no gold Nothing satisfies me but your soul.

The next thing he was aware of was the barn ceiling above him. Strange. He usually didn't rest in buildings so close to people-   The thought sent a bolt of fear through his heart. He sat up suddenly, then regretted the action immediately afterwards when his head spun. A hand gripped his shoulder, steadying him. "Hey, easy there." A familiar voice said. Instantly, Strix's guard lowered, if only by a minuscule amount.   Something pressed against his lips. "It's not blood." Viktor explained. "Just water, drink it slowly." Strix accepted it nonetheless, placing a hand over Viktor's to control the slow trickle of liquid. It wasn't enough to fully alleviate his thirst, but at least the ache subsided to something manageable, something he could think past.     Once he was done, he asked, "Where?"   "The barn just outside of town. You passed out after we drove the knife into the monster. I carried you here. Well, I wanted to bring you to a real bed but," Viktor frowned. "Apparently killing a monster and saving their children wasn't enough for a decent room. The economy is in shambles." He emphasised the last part with a weak grin. Strix snorted in amusement. Viktor continued. "How're you holding up?"   Strix's whole body ached, and had him wishing he was asleep again, but he soldiered on. "Tired, mostly."   "Want some alone time so you can sleep?"   "...not really." Strix admitted. He leaned back, holding the cup in his lap. "I want to know what happened when I was asleep."   And so Viktor told him - after he had passed out, Viktor carried him all way out of the winding caves and back to town, where they had been greeted warmly by the townspeople, who were holding torches, and pitchforks ("I'm being sarcastic," Viktor clarified with an exaggerated whisper). According to the them, they recognised a vampire when they saw an unconscious one, and had prepared if Viktor was underneath its thrall. Luckily, the head of the monster was proof enough to convince that they were harmless, but even so, the townfolk were suspicious of the vampire, the one responsible for the disappearances of the children.   "After that, I headed back to your home, where the children were." Viktor raised his hands apologetically. "Sorry. It was the only way to convince people not to burn you while they had a chance. After all, kidnapping's still kidnapping, even if it was to keep them safe."   Strix winced as he looked at his lap, but didn't deny it. A hand covered his own. "Hey." Viktor continued. "Once they saw their children safe, they warmed up pretty fast. The village leader just wants to talk to you."   "...alright." Strix said.   "Right. Be right back." Viktor got up and ducked outside. Strix spent the next few minutes sipping his water and thinking about slipping out of the window while he had the chance. But Viktor's face flashed in his mind. So he only nervously tapped his fingers against the cup and waited.   A while later, Viktor returned with the elder in tow. Straightened up, trying to keep his face blank and non-threatening, as if he was just another person and not a creature of the night.     "Hello." The elder greeted. At least he wasn't carrying a pitchfork, small blessings. "I believe you were the one who stole the babes from their cribs."   For the second time in a short period, Strix avoided the gazes in the room. He looked into his cup and tried not to let shame rise hot to his cheeks.   "But you kept them safe from the true monster, so I suppose that explains it." The elder continued.     "I wasn't going to keep them forever." Strix began. "Until it moved on. My strength is nothing against the monster's own."   "That answered my next question. Was that why you did not go after it yourself?"   "My presence cloaked the kids. If I died trying to kill it, then it would come after them."   The elder stared at him, impassively, his face giving nothing away. Strix tried not to squirm underneath the slightly narrowed eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Viktor cross his arms and subtly inch closer to Strix. How relieving it was, to have someone like Viktor on his side, Strix supposed. Finally, the village head nodded, seemingly placated. "I understand. You may rest here for a three days as thanks, then take your leave. The others were already fearful of the monster. Do not make them fearful of the child-taker as well.”   Strix nodded mutely. The elder gave one more stern look, then took his leave. Viktor turned to him with a grin. "See? Nothing to be worried about." He said.   Strix grunted, agreement or disagreement, discretion to the listener. He leaned back onto his makeshift bed - a cloth over some hay, now that he could feel it scratch underneath him - and closed his eyes. "You have plans after this?" He asks, chest lighter now that the main threat was gone.   "No idea. Probably head east, to the coast. Then who knows?"   Strix hummed thoughtfully. Of course. Viktor seemed the type to be a roamer, no home, no past to weigh him down, a lone wolf borne of man. After all, that's how they met – on a job. Nothing more, nothing less. At least, that’s what Strix was trying to himself since they’ve entered that cave.   Seemingly having nothing else to add, Viktor leaned back into his chair and gazed out the window. And since Strix had seemingly nothing else to reply, he let comfortable silence fall over them. Strix continued watching Strix, and wondered what jobs would await Viktor.   It didn’t occur to him to think about what he himself was going to do next, save for the immediate need to leave the village as soon as possible.     -   After all that, Viktor got paid the tidy sum he was contracted for, no more, no less, and that’s how he liked it. He also gets the admiration of the local teens who dream of escaping their little village. That part he’s less pleased with. This isn’t the type of job he’d recommend as a future career – the pay wasn’t constant, the transit depends if he has a horse or not, and not to mention the life-threatening danger of the work is enough to deter mostly anyone with common sense. There’s a reason why there’s not many monster hunters in the first place.   Still, he hung around. No reason not too. The money is more than enough to fund his next job, and it’s rare he has some downtime to just enjoy the place, even if it’s just a small town in the middle of nowhere. It gives him more time to actually hang out with one of the less annoying - but just as persistent – village youths.   Said youth was leaning back on the tree contently, twirling a small knife as she watched Viktor. “So you really ain’t gonna take me?” Kinessa said with a touch of forlornness.     “Told you already kid. This kind of work ain’t for nice young’uns like you-”   “Oh yeah? Can a kid do this?” With that, she twirled her knife around one last time then threw it at the opposite tree trunk. It landed with a solid thunk! She grinned at him as he shook his head.     “Don’t remember teaching you that one.”   “Yeah, got it from-” Kinessa stopped suddenly, her eyes darting fervently. Viktor too glanced around, but the only things listening were the trees and the gentle wind of autumn. They relaxed. “Got it from Strix. It’s one of the few things he taught me while we were staying at his place. Y’know, it wasn’t that bad being looked after him, apart from the cabin fever. He certainly made sure everyone was fed.”   Viktor didn’t really know much about what Strix did when he was hiding the children. He only remembered seeing those wide eyes staring at him in fear. He could still recall seeing the openly scared kids huddling behind the sniper’s outstretched arm like a brood to a mother bird. It was only when Viktor lowered the rifle to the floor and raise his hands did Strix take his finger off the trigger.     He was shaken from his memories when Kinessa spoke again. “Wonder what’s he doing right now.”’   Yes, Viktor was thinking the same thing – he hadn’t heard hide nor feather from Strix even since then. He was like a ghost of the village, where everyone did their best not to acknowledge that the so-called ‘terror of the night’ was, in fact, a very nice cryptid who just wanted to live in peace.   Which the villagers granted him a lot, yes, but only in the physical sense. Reputation wise, it hadn’t changed that much from before, as Kinessa had been telling him. They just also added kidnapper to his extensive repertoire. Which, in Viktor’ opinion, was less than what Strix truly deserved.   Viktor’s gaze fell on the woods, and he wondered.   –   It’s much easier to navigate the deer paths now, in the daylight, rather than the middle of the dark on a morbid mission. The twisting paths are no match for years of hunting experience, so it takes an almost laughably short time to reach Strix’s cottage. Two visits in two weeks, someone’s becoming popular.     Bet he’s gonna shock Strix out of...whatever Strixes do with free time and no children to guard. When he knocked on the front door, he had to wait until the door inched open, revealing a pair of amber eyes that were narrowed in suspicion before they widened.   “Viktor?”   “The one and only. Can I come in?”   Strix wordlessly opened the door and let Viktor step into the hideout. He’s still staring at him. Viktor grinned. “Shocking right? I’m capable of knocking on the front door instead of smashing it in during the middle of the night.”     The right side of Strix’s mouth twitched. A smile? “What are you doing here?”   “You invited me in?”   “I mean,” Strix’s smile deepened. “I thought you would have left the village by now.”   “Well that was the plan. I can tell you all about it if you want.”

Strix blinked, then nodded. Viktor sank down onto one of the chairs. Strix still hovered by the door. “Do you want to take a seat?"

"That's my line, but I supposed you already answered." Strix said, shaking his head ever so slightly, but he sat down on the other free seat.

Viktor looked around the room, taking note of the cleanliness now there was an absence of missing children. He did, however, note the various wilted flowercrowns and small toys lining the mantle of the fireplace. Something was bubbling away in it, smelling absolutely delicious. "Gifts from the kids?" Viktor asked, nodding to the fireplace.

"Not really. I would go to return them but," Strix paused. "I feel I'm not welcomed at the village. They need time to recover."

Really, in Viktor's humble opinion, the villagers should be showering Strix in gratitude and gold for slaying the beast, but that's him. Strix's voice broke his silent grumblings.

"I doubt that you're here to check on my well-being. What brings you?"

Viktor scratched the back of his head. "Actually, that's exactly what I was doing." Strix blinked at him. Viktor fidgeted self-consciously. "What, never had someone check up on you?"

Strix shook his head, wide-eyed, like an owl.

"Huh." Viktor said intelligently. He leaned back, one arm hung over the back of the seat. "Thought you and that kid, Kinessa..."

"It's for the best she doesn't." Came the terse reply.

Viktor didn't respond to that. Strix continued staring at a spot on the patched wall. "She still thinks of you." Viktor continued.

"I'd rather not talk about this now."

Viktor relented, willing to let it go for now, then grinned as he recalled an earlier misadventure. "Want to hear about how I managed to sneak my way into something called the Thousand Hand guild and stole the leader's sword?"

The troubled look cleared away with a smile, like sunlight parting through stormy clouds.

-

"...and then that was when I realised, the knight was rescuing the dragon, not the damsel!"

Mirth lit the planes of Strix's planes, warm as the glow from the firelight as it cast dancing shadows over the both of them. Viktor didn't even realise it was nightfall until he was studying the planes of Strix's face in the semi-darkness, how it sharpened and softened it all at once. Supper was a long gone memory, and the mulled wine was sitting heavy and pleasant in his gut. He hadn't had enough to be truly drunk, no, but it was sharing a secret every time he sipped and caught Strix's eye.

Strix had loosened up, as loose as a creature of the night can truly be while looking over their shoulder - he was noticeably more slouched, trying his best to melt into the furs, or into Viktor's side of the bench. Sometime in the evening, Viktor had moved from sitting opposite of Strix to next to him, a warm presence in the dark of the room. "I mean," Strix smirked. "He was wearing a helmet. Maybe he didn't see."

"Nah, he definitely saw. If he didn't, he would've definitely felt when he hefted the scaly son of a bastard onto his shoulder and took off!"

Strix wasn't being silent all the time though. He occasionally spoke up, to put in a wry comment or a interesting fact about some of the monsters Viktor faced, and Viktor found himself nodding along the more Strix spoke. Or maybe he was nodding off because of the warmth from the fire, or the sudden shock of heat to his gut when Strix's eyes flicked to his own.

"Hey, Strix." Viktor said. "Doesn't it get lonely out here?"

Strix's eyes glowed amber in the firelight as he answered, "Sometimes."

Viktor's throat clicked as he swallowed, and he summoned all the courage he had, even more than facing the child-eating monster, to lay a hand on Strix's knee. Warmth shot up his arm and pooled in his stomach. "You don't have to be. Not tonight." He leaned closer to Strix, closer to the intoxicating scent of forest and the night and just him. Still, he hovered just over Strix’s lips, with enough distance for Strix to pull away, in case Viktor had read all the signs wrong.

He didn't. Strix closed the distance with a surge.

Then Viktor didn’t have to worry afterwards.

-

"They still want me dead, y'know." Strix murmured from his position on Viktor's chest.

Viktor made a rumbling noise of question, eyes closed, too blissed out to properly answer. He felt Strix stroke his jaw with careful fingers. "And you, by association."

Viktor peeked open one eye open at Strix. "Didn't we just save the livelihood of their village?"

"Yes. Also risked your neck for the town's 'ghost monster'." Strix continued, even when Viktor opened both his eyes to frown at him. "Their willful ignorance won't last long. Sooner or later they'll try to run you out for standing up for me. They still blame me for attracting the beast to them."

Viktor propped himself up on one elbow, carefully maneuvering Strix to look at him in the eyes. "Bullshit. You saved their children. They still believe you're still bad?"

"They're fearful of what they don't know."

Strix's face looked forlorn that Viktor reached down to kiss it off and smooth out the frown. Strix definitely looked a lot more calmer once Viktor pulled away, but there was still a concerned wrinkle in his brow. "You should leave this place while you still can."

"Or what, they'll re-fetch the pitchforks and run me out of town?"

Strix gave him a blank look, and Viktor realised that yes, Strix really did mean that.

"Huh."

Maybe Strix had a point. It was high time he moved on anyway, places to visit, people to see, monsters to hunt. "What about you, though? Will you be alright?"

"I had the moniker 'Ghost Feather' for a reason. I know how to disappear when I need to."

'But you shouldn't have to hide,'  Viktor thought, 'You shouldn't have to fear for your life, when you take place in this world too.'

He kept his mouth though, and wondered again.

-

"This is goodbye, isn't it." Strix said.

Viktor hummed in agreement. They stood in front of Strix's cottage, next to the sprawling wildflowers and untamed grass. Even the sun was shining, ignorant of the ache in Strix's chest as he looked over his home.

"Didn't think I would make good memories here. You proved me wrong." Strix came closer to Viktor and clasped his hand with appreciation. "I'll surely remember this. Even when this house rots to the earth."

Viktor smiled at that. "m'glad then." He grasped the back of Strix’s neck and pulled down, tipping his head so he could touch his forehead with Strix’s own, trying to postpone the inevitable. Strix opened his mouth.

"Viktor, I-"

There was the sound of a door being slammed open. "Would you two lovebirds hurry up?" Kinessa called as she hurried up the dirt path, rucksack secure on her shoulder. "Daylight's burning and I want to see the citadel before sunset."

Strix sighed, a warm breath of affection and annoyance. Viktor said, "Hey, you wanted to being the kid along, that makes her your protégé."

The side of Strix's mouth ticked upwards. "And you?"

"...that makes me yours too. Whatever of me you’ll want, it's yours.”

They both steadfastly ignored the retching noises Kinessa was making behind their backs. Viktor took Strix's hand and grinned at him.  "Ready?"

Strix smiled back, brighter than any gold. "Yes."

-

Tavish will admit, his castle back in his home state was nothing to sneeze at, but Jane’s castle (which had been inherited from his wizardly roommate, as he would gleefully recount) was the confusing perfect amount of gothic and...well, Soldier’s brand of all-American-goodness; crumbling stone walls and towers, red-white-and-blue coloured curtains drawn behind gated windows, tufts of dead grass surrounding discarded fridges and dyers. And instead of ravens, there were group of raccoons nestling among the appliances.

Ach, that’s right, Jane’s raccoons.

Tavish flashed a toothy grin as he passed by them, carefully juggling the bottle of scrumpy away from them just in case they got any ideas. He could see the way their beady little eyes followed him all the way to the front entrance where he knocked on the heavy wooden door.

Jane opened the in full regalia, and by full regalia Tavish means Jane’s wearing his uniform – pressed and spotless – and boots so spit-polished Tavish could see his reflection in the shiny leather. Jane didn’t have his hat, politeness maybe, but he was clean-shaven. He also had his badges on show, but upon closer inspection, none of them were war medals, but pins and clothing buttons glued onto safety pins. For some reason, a great rush of affection filled Tavish’s chest.

“Greetings, date!” Jane saluted. Yes, fully saluted, with proper stance.

Tavish’s grin widened and he shook his bottle of scrumpy as he stepped through the doorway. “Got ye a present Jane.”

“It is acceptable. You have passed the inspection.” The heels of his boots clicked smartly as he stepped aside to let Tavish in. “You may enter the premises now!”

Tavish smiled and stepped into the foyer, where it transformed from ‘ungodly amalgam of goth and American’ to something that was a bit more to Jane’s style, but slightly more cleaned up. Gun catalogues were strewn across all available surfaces, peeking in between neatly stacked boxes of take out. There were candles too, some normal ones, and some shaped like skulls. “Ach, what’s with these ones?” Tavish asked.

“Those were Merasmus’s, but he left without taking them, so they’re mine now.”

Even if those candles gave off an eerie purple glow instead of candle-lit dinner with the boyfriend, Tavish grinned, setting the bottle of scrumpy on the coffee table. “They’ve got a certain...atmosphere with them.”

Jane grinned. “I’m glad you like it, private! Now wait here while I get our patriotic dinner ready!”

Jane disappeared down another hallway. Tavish laced his fingers together and twiddled with his thumbs for a bit. He didn’t have to wait for long though; sounds of pans crashing and the fire alarm going off exploded boomed from the kitchen.

“Jane?” He called out, half-worriedly. “Everything ‘right there lad?”

“Affirmative!” Came Jane’s reply, followed by more crashing. “Negative!”

Tavish chuckled and followed the trail of smoke from the kitchen to find Jane wearing oven mitts – guess the colours – while holding out a piece of darkened and smoking coal.

No, wait, it wasn’t coal, there was a bone sticking out. It seemed to be roast ham, or whatever remained of it, sitting on an oven tray, Jane looking sullen. “This does not look like a roast.” He mumbled.

Tavish couldn’t help it - he bent over wheezing his lungs and ruined liver out, laughing until tears where coming out of his eyes. At last, he straightened up again, Jane still had the same sullen look, but now there was something like a crinkle of a smile on his face. Tavish said, “Ach, that looks like some of me own cookin’, so it looks a’right to me.”

At least Jane wasn’t frowning as much anymore, but he still replied, “But I wanted to make your first American dinner to blow out every scottish haggish and sushi that have ever been shoved into your piehole.”

Tavish didn’t have the heart to mention that he had already been living in the United States for a number of years now, and thus, had experienced most American dinners by now, of varying qualities. That didn’t stop a wide smile from overcoming his face as he patted Jane’s shoulder sympathetically.

“We met at an explosions expo, we would nae know what classy was if it bit us on the arse.”

Jane grinned at that. “You are right! We’re two red-blooded boyfriends who don’t need pansy classy dinners!”

“Then let’s some take-out from a good, American, Chinese take-away for dinner.” Tavish said, laying a sweet kiss on Jane’s cheek.

“I think my raccoons would like that too!”

“I’m not sharing wi’ them.”

-

There’s a cuff around his wrist, chaining him to the bed. He lets his arm fall back to the bed with another groan, this time of frustration. He might as well look at the trouble he’s in, he reasons, and starts taking in the room - it’s a small clinic, a shelf full of neatly lined medical tools and potions, and a chair dragged next to the bed. It’s empty. That doesn’t surprise him. No-where could keep TF down, not even him in a hospital bed.

What does surprise him though is that the room is empty of any other visitors, such as two police officers of Piltover. With such a large bounty on his head - several thousand serpents worth- it’s a wonder why he isn’t being guarded by at least a half dozen squad of officers inside. That means there must be a bigger problem in Piltover than guarding a mangled outlaw who was in recovery.

They are not without their precautions though, the cuff is evidence of that. Graves exhales through his nose. He’ll find a way out. He’s escaped from the locker. A little handcuff should be a walk in the park.

He glances around. Caitlynn and Viv seemed smart enough to leave the shelf of shiny, sharp-looking medical instruments from arm’s reach of the bed. Damn it. Graves looks down at his wrist again, contemplative. Not the first time he’s had to dislocate his own thumb to slip out of cuffs before, but it makes healing a bitch.

With his other free hand, he starts feeling his bed and the surrounding areas for a stray pen dropped from a doctor, anything; out of desperation, he tries his pillow, and that’s when his fingers hit something hard, and definitely not the soft sheets of the standard clinic bed.

He pulls out a knife, and TF’s smile flashes in his mind. He grins in response.

It’s easy break open the lock on the handcuff; it’s less easy to get out of the bed. His mind is still groggy from the mix of medicine and pain, and his stomach turns like the choppy waters of the Guardian’s sea, but he manages to swing his legs over the bed’s edge. He can stand, at least, as long as he doesn’t rush.

Too bad Graves is bad at taking it slow. He can’t afford it, not when he’s still in dangerous territory. Just because Piltover’s two most competent police officers weren’t around, doesn’t mean there were none lurking outside the clinic’s door. If he had Destiny, then it might’ve worked, but he’s still armless, save for Fates smuggled knife.

For once, he’s going to have to think like Twisted Fate.

If he were the swindler, where would he go? Definitely not through the front door, that’s just walking straight into the arms of whoever might be waiting outside. He looks at the window. It’s a two-story fall, but maybe that’s a good thing, because the street below is empty. If it were TF, there would be no doubt that it would’ve been guarded. Guess they figured that Graves, who just had his insides blasted outside, would be too incapacitated to climb down.

However, they didn’t think about Graves being too much of a stubborn bastard to remain comatose for long.

He makes quick work of the bedsheets, tying them together to make a rope. It’s the oldest jailbreak trick in the book, but it works. After testing it with a few tugs, he ties one end to the bed post and flings the other end out the window. He tugs the anchored end one more time before he was climbing out the window and down the rope.

Each movement is halted and stiff, which made his descent painstakingly slow, success counted in inches. Relief floods him when his boots hit the pavement. He glances one more time at the window, then after a quick look around, he darts off in the direction of Ceecee’s workshop.

While his main concern is Tobias, he is even less than useless right now - still fighting off the pain and fatigue of being shot, and he would be useless in a brawl. And knowing the swindler, where he went, trouble usually followed, and Graves would not be able to keep that trouble off, not unless he has Destiny in his hands.

When Graves makes it to Ceecee’s shop, there is a ‘Closed’ sign swinging on door, but he disregards it and bangs on it anyway. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Came her reply, and then muted footsteps. “Geez,” Ceecee said once she opens the door. “Can’t you read the sign? It’s closed o’clock right now-“ She stops short, eyes bugging out in disbelief.

Graves offers a shrug as an apology. “Can’t wait ‘til morning.”

For the second time in Graves’ week, Ceecee’s shriek pierces his ears, causing him to cringe. “Malcolm!? But I thought the coppers got ya! When your snake of a partner came in without you, it took all my patience not throw him out for double-crossing ya again. Well, I thought he did, but then he said ya got caught by the coppers, and I nearly threw him out just for abandoning you. But I’m glad to see that ain’t true.

“Now don’t just stand there, c’mon in before anyone sees ya!” She ushers him in quickly. She shuts the door behind him and scurries to the back of her workshop, past the table with a steaming bowl of soup and half-eaten loaf. Malcolm has little time to feel sorry for interrupting her dinner when she emerges with something that looks sleek and shiny and familiar.

The new Destiny feels right in his hands when Ceecee hands it to him. “She’s already oiled and tuned, she just needs ammo.” She hands him a small clinking bag. “Oh, and don’t worry about paying it off. Your ‘partner’ did that earlier too.”

Always one step ahead. Graves smiles to himself. “I owe him a drink when I find him again. Speaking of, did he tell you where he ran off to?”

“He said he was gonna go back to you, so I thought that’s what’s happened.”

Huh. That still doesn’t help him. Still, he has Destiny now. That is better than before. He thanks Ceecee and leaves her to her meal, glancing around the street. Now, if he were a slippery card shark, where would be go while waiting for his partner?