#thraggwill

It’s mostly William… and ships involving him.

The smaller figure sighed, turning around, “Mark —“

“Don’t ‘Mark’ me William,” Mark raised a finger at him, looking all the more like his mom, “Haven’t you been outside? Haven’t you seen what they can do?” He panted.

William stared at him, faint traces of dark circles under his sunken eyes, “Yes, Mark, I’ve seen it,” he leaned against the table behind him.

Mark’s face softened, “Then why?”

William only stared, frowning

“If Cecil —“

“It’s my decision,” he said forcefully, “Cecil didn’t have to say or do anything; I want to do this.”

Mark inhaled sharply, “They’ll kill you, Will.”

William frowned then, a small snarl overtaking his features, “They already killed Rick.” Hurt replaced Mark’s concern. William’s face softened again, “I don’t have anyone here, Mark,” he paused, placing his hands on Mark’s shoulders, “You’re the only person I have left; if you're going, I’m going,” William smiled then, lightly slapping his shoulder, “Besides, I’ll be on the ship, waiting for you to come back and wrap me up in your big strong arms,” he said as he twirled away from him, grabbing his bag from the table. He walked past Mark, calling out behind him, “See you on the ship.”

Mark turned after him, ‘Maybe I can leave him on Talescria,’ he thought.

…

William's nose crinkled, ‘Do that shit outside,’ he thought, the stench of smoke filling his lungs — astringent, clingy, and suffocating not to mention the insufferability of whoever was doing it.

He groaned, trying to bury his face in — a sharp pain shot through his nose, his eyes shot open, watering. Flickering light filled them: flames, backup power lights, and sharp sparks from broken light fixtures.

He turned, pulling himself up by the consol he’d fell against, Red; warning signs for fire suppression systems, hull integrity, shield integrity, and eighty-seven other things William would never know the use for.

The viewport ahead of him was filled with dirt and jagged rocks; he turned, watching the fire lick up the walls. ‘Why is it so bright?’ He questioned himself as he moved towards a side door, hugging the opposite wall of the fire.

The door opened easily enough; only his ring finger nail was taken too soon.

William stepped into the dark hallway, following the small sparks lighting his way to the lower decks.

Sharp rocks cut through the hull, most of which were navigable until they weren’t. A large rock blocked most of the corridor, a small crack left between the right wall and the rock, William could see flickering shadows further down the hallway, beyond the rock; the fire would corner him soon.

He breathed in, lodging himself between the rock and the wall, shimmying his way around the rocks surface. Small nicks and scrapes gathered on his skin. He fell into the corner between the wall and the doorway, the small space providing some breathing room. The gap between the doorway and the rock was even smaller — William breathed in one more, the stench of smoke strong again, he lodged himself beside the rock again, shimmying across the surface. His uniform in tatters, the rock took every opportunity to dig into his softest parts.

A wetness ran down his thigh, then a burning sensation; ‘just a cut…hopefully.’ He tried to shove himself forward, the rock scrapping across his cheeks and palms, ‘you are not providing nearly enough lubrication, asshole,’ he thought to his thigh. Just then, his cheek made it past the rock, causing him to fall forward. The rock sliced open his palm. More blood ran from his thigh as he fell to the floor.

He groaned, peeking down at his thigh. He quickly turned towards the ceiling; ‘it’s just a cut,’ he brought his right leg under him, pushing himself up. The wall would be his friend for a while.

His vision started blurring as he neared the right corner. He peeked around it, the fire flash banging him. It’s white hot heat burning his retinas. He threw himself towards the left corridor, squeezing his eyes shut.

‘I’m gonna be fucking blind after this,’ he quickly left the burning hangar behind him.

The ship seemed to be at an incline; the corridors grew steeper and steeper. Eventually, he began to crawl. A scratchy, hot pressure in his chest, worsening each time he moved.

A small viewport, partially blocked by dirt, waited for him near the top of the corridor.

He continued to crawl, head bowed, glancing every now and then to stay in the right direction, and slipping from time to time. Glass cut into his hands and knees as he moved along the floor.

He grabbed the sill, pulling himself up. He kept his head low, trying to break the bigger shards of glass, shifting some of the dirt — he flinched away as it rapidly piled inside, powdery and scratchy.

He placed his right knee on the sill, beginning to dig his way up, belly scraping against the dirt and glass.

Soon enough, the ground leveled out. He flipped on his back, breathing the foreign air deeply — he rolled back over, his eyes squeezed shut as he coughed his lungs out.

He laid there, panting, his breathing beginning to even.

He glanced back as the ground started to rumble, a loud boom splitting the sky as the fire consumed the ship’s engines.

He covered himself, a short, sharp burst of heat running up his back. White hot for a single moment, then…nothing. A loud ringing overwhelmed his ears.

He rolled instinctively, tumbling down a small hill, landing on his stomach with a thud. He groaned, looking up at his surroundings with heavy eyes. Cloudy, blurs of orange, black, and the tiniest bits of green; he couldn’t make anything out.

William hung his head, closing his eyes gently, as exhaustion took him, ‘at least I’m not on fire anymore.’

The ringing finally fell silent.

…

Spring rain had come, and with it a favorite pastime of two young boys. A mop of black hair, covered with a yellow raincoat, tackled a smaller tangle of red in a green raincoat, rolling them over in the wet grass.

The green coat sputtered, “Mark!” They cried, “you got dirt in my mouth.”

Mark moved off the smaller boy, looking properly admonished, “Sorry William, I thought you were ready.”

William wiped more dirt from his mouth, shaking his head.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked.

“I’m fine,” William responded quietly, pushing himself back to his feet, “let's keep playing.”

A smile split Mark’s face. He shot up to his feet, “yeah, let’s go.” They took off, jumping into puddles around the neighborhood, always in view of Mark’s house; his mother watching them from the front steps. The taste of mud long forgotten.

…

William sputtered, hacking his lungs out. The earthy taste in the back of his mouth doing him no favors. “Mark,” he wheezed, looking around for the other man. He blinked rapidly; the rain washed the itchiness from his eyes.

Large, flattened trees and blackened rocks greeted him, everything else seemed to have vaporized on the spot. Fire still flickered up the hill and, from what he could see, the break between the two halves had grown bigger.

His heart pattered against his chest, rapidly thudding as he knelt on the cold ground. His breath hitched as he tried to slow it down, holding his chest and pacing his breath. A choughing fit overtook him again, causing him to double over. He finally vomited.

Breath leveling out, he took in the distance, beyond the downed trees, opposite the direction of the ship. Some trees still stood, some leaned on another, some twisted and bent, and all were charred. Hints of green peeked through the darkness; he pushed himself to his feet, collapsing immediately as he put weight on his left leg.

He looked down, finally taking himself in: the gash in his thigh was caked in mud, pieces of his uniform singed or hanging loosely off him, and small cuts and burns dotted his arms and upper chest. A chill crept up his back; he peeked behind him, the reddened skin of his back exposed to him. He could scarcely feel the pressure of his fingers prodding the scarred flesh.

He inhaled, deeply, the scent of rain returning him to happier — calmer times.

He wiped his leg off, tying a scrap of his uniform around it. He probed it, ‘it’s deeper in some spots, I’ll have to find something to clean it with.’ He. pushed himself up again, his right leg bearing most of his weight this time, and limped towards the slivers of green in the darkness.

He collected more scrapes and bruises; the mud dragging him down more than once, and the twisted and bent trees snagged more of his clothes and skin along the way.

The slivers of green grew larger and more numerous, never knowing the touch of fire. He hobbled through their canopies, the brunt of the rain taken away from him. Eventually, the tiny droplets stopped all together. He looked up; small slivers of light peeked through leaves half his height, ‘Holy shit, it’s like walking with dinosaurs,’ he stopped, admiring the refractions of light off the rain droplets.

A low rushing noise reached his ears. He strained to pinpoint it, shifting and tensing his feet and legs. He moved towards it, ‘Please God, let this be what I think it is,’ he picked up the pace, ‘I promise I’ll never sin again if you let me have this one—‘ faster now, ‘fucking,’ even faster, ‘thing,’ he burst out of the foliage, the waterfall greeting him immediately. Clear water flowed down a cliff, into a pond, and further out into the forest.

William sighed, his shoulders dropping as he clasped his hands together, ‘thank you, God.’ He stood for a moment, basking in the sounds and sights before him.

He followed the cliff’s edge from a safe distance, slowly coming to the shore of the pond. To his left, it flowed out into a river. To his right, vines grew thick along the cliff's walls. The waterfall began higher up; William took in the steep, near vertical hill leading up to it, next to the small cliff he’d come down from.

He stopped short of the water; he hadn’t seen any fauna but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. He looked around, grabbing the first palm-sized rock he could find. He chucked it into the pond, waiting with baited breath.

Nothing.

He unzipped what was left of the jumpsuit the coalition gave him, the bandage around his thigh sodden enough to roll down with it. He gently took off the remains of his shirt, small scraps of it caked to his skin, melted together by fire.

He waded into the water, his toes curling into the sand as he acclimated to the cold temperature. He shuffled forward some more, slipping, suddenly plunged into the water from a small unseen drop off. He scrambled to stand up, red blossoming around him when he put more weight on his thigh.

He collapsed to his knees, shoulders just above the water now. He shivered, deciding to wait until he felt warm before continuing further in.

He leaned his head back, more and more rays of light shining down the longer he waited. Eventually, the sun returned from behind the clouds.

William opened his eyes again, standing up and continuing to wade further into the warm water; there was a rocky outcrop near the base of the waterfall.

The pond never reached deeper than his neck.

He slid down the rock, leaning his back against it, keeping only his mouth out of the water. His breathing properly evened out, the air felt clean, and the pain in his thigh was slowly being washed away along with all the blood and dirt.

Mark would come for him soon; even if everyone else thought he was dead, he wouldn’t believe it without a body. He smiled, watching his blood flow into the greater water system. He’d be just fine here.

A loud splash covered him in water, he blinked rapidly; a large, deep red circle grew from the water. He stood, preparing to bolt as he watched the water struggle to dilute the blood.

His right heel had just left the small sandbar when a figure stood from the water. Big and tall. Blood dripped from his eyes, nose, ears, and down his legs. His robes torn and singed and the red cape he’d seen him in before had turned into a red shawl.

Thaedus has briefed them about him; their ultimate goal in this war.