Fire-Dancer

"No. Tell me the truth. What do you know about me?"

“Well, when I looked on a map, this was the only place in the right vicinity where I could minimize damage to structures. There really wasn’t a large radius available, there simply wasn’t enough fuel for large diversions. I simply didn’t think about what would be occupying that space—I am sorry. Are you alright?”

"What is it?"

Having hunkered in for some homework and warmth, the autumn sun was starting to set by the time he left, the cafe sign flipped to close behind him. The eyes behind the glass had unfortunately turned away, by the time the man approached.

The rough press of fingers and his shoulder screamed with pain. Rockland stumbled slightly, instinctually leaning into the grasp in a desperate urge to reduce the discomfort. He had a white knuckle grip on the handle of his cane in his opposite hand.

"Agh! What the fu-" The teen swore, eyes wide in alarm and fear, head whipping towards the assailant. He bucked around best he could without being too hard on his knee, trying to loosen the guy's grip.

A knife appeared at Rockland's throat, pressing hard enough over his Adam's apple to draw blood. The pressure was precise, just enough to cause a bit of fear and pain, but not enough to put him in any actual danger if he stayed still and stopped shouting.

One of Basta's feet shot out to kick at the cane, aiming to throw off the boy's balance and gain even more leverage.

"You'll want to come with me if you'll let me tell you why."

"Where... where should I go?" Eirena questioned, voice quivering with each syllable. What was to become of her in this cavern of darkness and shadows? A prisoner or something far worse...

Eirena had already spoken to it more than even Lazuli ever did, and it was understanding language more and more easily. It shook its head as if brushing off an obnoxious insect, shaking the words that it wanted to reply out of its head.

She wasn't frightened enough for it to benefit from her fear yet. She was only confusing it, making it believe it had once been human.

--RULES - MAIN VERSE - OTHER VERSES AND AUs--

“I know a fire demon who can be quite pretty when he wants to be. That’s not the same, of course.” She shifted her weight, instinctively relying on her walking stick to do so. As if she were an old woman, or had been one once.

Dustfinger's head cocked ever so slightly to one side at the phrase. He hadn't ever met a demon before, not technically. He wouldn't have thought it would be an enjoyable experience, but if it didn't bother this young lady, perhaps they weren't entirely as he would expect.

Thera recoiled, just a little - the instinct to avoid a collision rather than anything else. She looked up, realising Dustfinger had done the exact same thing, and gave a smile. "It's OK, I'll get them."

Crouching, she gathered the fallen books one by one into the crook of her other arm, then stood up, "I should just put these back on the shelves while I have them."

Her head tilted a little, noting the colour in his cheeks. He seemed more embarrassed than a simple misstep should cause, but she let it go rather than making it worse.

He wouldn't admit that he couldn't read one of the books if he wanted to. It was stupid of him to even be around so many, as little good as they did him.

"No," he blurted, suddenly aware that he hadn't actually responded verbally to her question. "No, that's alright. You...enjoy."

"Please... Tell me what you know..." Vesper spoke quietly. She didn't want to frighten him away. She needed to know, even if she would hate the things he said. Somehow, she suspected she wouldn't hate him. That he wasn't a part of whatever had gone on. He had been there to perform... And something went terribly wrong...

Perhaps it could be that Vesper was hiding from the people who had done such awful things. How many people knew her and suspected the same and simply left her alone? How many people knew her name and thought of her with pity, saying nothing at all?

"Please, sir. You are the first person to mention my family in some time..."

Tell me what you know.

As if he had stayed more than a few moments after she had fallen to find out. He did know some that she might not, if her recovery from the fall had not been swift and she had not sought out answers.

And if he was the first to mention her family in some time, then she certainly hadn't sought very far or long. Surely, though, she must know...

"After your family..."

He swallowed the rest of the sentence, unwilling to cause more pain than he had to with graphic descriptions of what he had seen and heard of their demise.

"I ran. But I heard what happened in Whitestone. The Briarwoods took over. It's been getting worse ever since, from what I've heard. They say even the Sun Tree has withered..."

His lip curled in a sneer of frustration. She was easy enough to rile up, but hard to pin down. He would have liked that in an ally, but in a friend of Dustfinger's, it was infuriating.

"No. Just stopping to be polite. But it seems like you're the one who doesn't want to talk."

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of character analysis/headcanon questions to learn more about your character and your partners'! writing/headcanon prompts requested by anonymous. feel free to edit these as you see fit.

She sucked in breath, forgoing the mental countdown and—essentially—pounding herself in the chest as she pulled her arms past her ribcage. The ziptie snapped away. She winced and picked it up, rubbing her chest a little. Her wrists bore red lines where the plastic had dug into her skin.

“It’s really important you keep it tight the whole time. That’s kinda the knack.” Nicole drew her feet close, using the broken ziptie as a shim to undo the one around her ankles.

His wrists burned, but he was free and had learned a skill that would almost certainly come in handy again.

His fingers were more adept at shimming the tie around his ankles. It wasn't so different from getting out of ropes or picking a lock. In short order, they were both free of their binds.

“This is not that different from the way things used to be,” Roxane says, her voice quiet in a way that still betrays her own longing. The truth of the matter is that it is that different. Everything about it is different. But of the two of them, Roxane had always striven to offer a bit of hope when their bitterest seasons made things seem hopeless.

And besides, her longing is more for her children than anything. Perhaps if they were here with her, she would eventually adjust. Perhaps not.

He hears the tinge of sadness in her voice, because he feels it too. It is like when they were younger, but they have changed so much. No longer young and madly in love, careless of the cares of the world, so long as they have each other.

He knows they're both thinking of the daughter left behind in another world, and of the one already in the ground. Roxane is missing a son, too.

They can both feel that nothing around them is right. Things that might not have bothered them back then are torturous now. There may have been a day when they would have accepted anything as an adventure, so long as they were together, but those days are long past.

"Just like when we were young."

"You called," She replied, that same assured and half-amused lilt in her voice. One arm steadying his, Hel reached into her pocket with her other and retrieved a hanky for him.

It was only when he asked that it even occurred to her to wonder. She lifted her head, not to their surroundings but to the skies. Familiar faces stared back at her, recognition a spark in every twinkling star and swath of night dark sky his mortal eyes could scarce comprehend. As her eyes slowly fell back to his face, realization and horror settled like dried concrete in her chest.

Hel's love of stories had never been a secret. Lady of death, found innumerable lives between the pages and words that carried her away from childhood scars. For as long as she could remember, she'd been able to close her eyes and fall into another time, another place, another world. Dream herself in between chapters and plotlines.

This was maybe the first time she'd witnessed someone fall out of the pages.

He had called, and she had come. She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like she'd always be there when he needed her most. And so far, ever since they'd first met, she had.

He saw her hesitance as she gazed up into the sky, eyes tracing lines and patterns that his couldn't follow. He ignored it. Hel could help him. She always could. There was no other option.

"We can go home now. I don't want to be here anymore."