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How did Kvothe met Blackfang? What's their relationship like? (W Iron too)
They live in a city called "middley town" (i know it's confusing bare with me) and the local schools (Trafó & Manticore) organize three events each summer called SummerShine (Mid-June), SummerShore (Late July), and SummerShade (Late August). They're essentially one big student party (from both schools) for them to socialize.
Kvothe essentially didn't want to go, but Argar (the principal of Trafó) forced him to go to at least one event. Summershore it was, on the beach, everyone having a blast except Kvothe being emo and sitting in a corner.
Blackfang and Iron were already (kinda) friends, just casually hanging out as sophomores before deciding to shit on Kvothe for being so emo. So yea they casually spawned into Kvothe's life I guess 😭😭💀
I don't think they're that close, it's really for them to just spend time out of boredom. Blackfang isn't a person's person, Iron rather bands together with Manticore's trio, and Kvothe has Requiem and Deric for close friends.
Oh my goodness! I am so happy that there are people who are enjoying what I’ve got going on here, I honestly thought that this would be more like chucking ideas that I couldn’t use into an internet void. I hope that I don’t disappoint, I named this blog trash prompts for a reason y’know? Anyways, sorry in advance! And thank you.
“A-ah-alright now,” the whumpee points the knife at the whumper, trying to force some authority into their voice, they’ve just managed to get the knife away from the whumper in the struggle, they were free, mostly anyway, they were still badly injured, unable to hold the knife steady as they tremble from exhaustion and pain, breathing hard, adrenaline serving to dull the constant ache somewhat, allowing them to stand over the whumper.
At least for now, the whumpee knows that they don’t have long before they crash, unable to get out of here at all, but they risk it, they have to know why. They use the hand not holding the knife to wipe the blood off of their chin.
“Why me?” the whumpee asks, “ I never did anything to anyone! Why did you pick me?”
The whumper looks uncomfortable, maybe they don’t like the knife trained on them, “I didn’t pick you, I want you to understand that this doesn’t really have anything to do with you at all, now can you put the knife down and get out of here or whatever?” The whumper risks a shaky point towards the door.
“Y-you sick bastard,” the whumpee growls, “uh-of course you picked me, and I want to know why before I call the cops.”
The whumpee suddenly sways in their growing weakness, the knife cuts into the whumper just a bit, just enough to draw blood that beads and runs down their throat. The whumper’s eyes are huge, dilated with fear, “I’m not sick I’m just a contractor,” they whimper, trying to shrink back further into the floor away from the whumpee’s knife.
This response stuns the whumpee, “You’re a what? Like a plumber?”
“Yes!” the whumper nods furiously, “Exactly like a plumber, now please let me go?”
“I don’t-I don’t understand?” The whumpee has to accept that they are now too weak to get out of this room, they glance back at the chair and the little metal tray full of bloody tools. They know that they have to kill the whumper if they don’t want to wind up back in that chair again.
The whumper seems to realize what the whumpee has decided on, they talk quickly, trying to explain themselves. “Sometimes, if a gang, or a kingpin or what have you a “bad guy” wants information or someone to hurt they hire a contractor, I don’t get to choose a victim, I just show up and go to work. It’s like any other job really, I’m not a bad person I just have a questionable profession!” They state desperately, squeezing their eyes shut.
When the knife doesn’t rip open their neck for a few long moments they risk opening them again. The whumpee is deep in thought, their bloody face visibly confused, they’ve wrapped the arm not holding the knife around their damaged ribs.
“Wh-who hired you then?” They breathe finally.
“(Friend),” the whumper croaks.
The whumpee is so surprised by this that the knife drops from their trembling fingers, the whumper looks up at them in confusion.
“Wait,” the whumper starts, “You know them?”
“They’re my partner.”
The whumper whistles low from their position on the filthy floor, “That’s fucked up.”
“You’re going to help me confront them or I’m still going to kill you,” the whumpee demands, falling to their hand and knees beside the whumper.
“Sure, whatever you say, your friend’s check already cleared and I’m always ready for some drama,” the whumper folded their hands behind their head and stretched out, “Want to rest before we go?”
The whumpee answered their question by collapsing boneless next to them with a groan.
“Yeah,” the whumpee stated, “Take all the time that you want.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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