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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 24, 2020 15:48:52 GMT -5
Prologue - ⋆ - ⋆ - ✰ The Time Before.
Myths are a gateway to reality, to understanding the very manner in which to behave through comparison via tales. Whether it be mortal flaw, the birth of evil, or the manner in which the world may fade out.
In the Prose Edda, before Ragnarok came and tore the order of the Æsir asunder, a young boy and his brother would watch their parents. They watched as their father played pranks on the the Æsir, as their mother would shake her head in humor.
Narfi would laugh at Váli, and vice versa. The two were close, hand in hand, smiles matching smiles. Kind mother, playful father. Happy family all around.
Their wicked siblings remained forgotten amidst the joy they had built for themselves. Half siblings, children of that giantess, they were not a worry to Sigyn, Narfi, or Váli. Loki's familial ties with Angrboða and his other children were not of interest to his family. Though, in fairness, there always stood the possibility that Sigyn didn't know all of Loki's adventures.
Yet, Loki continued his chaos, wielding mistletoe of all things, the one weakness Frigg never thought up, and Baldr died due to Loki's jealousy. When that happened, the Æsir took to revenge. Any means necessary would do.
As they say, an eye for an eye.
Like his monstrous son, Fenrir, young Váli was turned into a wolf. He hunted, ripping Narfi apart in his new monstrous form. In revenge, Narfi's entrails were used to bind Loki to rocks, under a serpent laid by Skaði, a serpent whose poison would burn the mischievous god with every drop of poison. The writhing pain would lead to the creation of Earthquakes. A story of myth, warning of the faults of jealousy and wrath.
At least, that's what the young girl understood of the story. A story of morale, and the consequences of actions. The girl stepping on stones, scattered on the outside of a garden filled with white, red, and yellow flowers. Daisies of all kinds billowing in the wind. White, like the pale ribbon tying her messy charcoal hair back.
Tales of mythologies had always been interesting. Patroclus and Achilles in Greek mythology, which she personally enjoyed. A tragic story of figures seen as lovers. Patroclus, a mere mortal, and the powerful, invincible Achilles, whose heel was his only physical flaw. And yet, many tragic stories saw death by love.
Echo the nymph fell for Narcissus, she went mute, doomed to forever repeat the words of others, but never her own.
Don't even get her started on Apollo and his many failings with love. She somewhat sympathized with the characters, a hopeless romantic he was.
She wasn't, not a romantic anyways, but she felt the want for friendship, to seek out the perfect friend. To be accepted. There were friends she had, of course, but either motherly hens or ingenuine in nature.
Her nose was still buried in the book she carried gracefully between her index finger and her thumb, jumping from one stone to another, leaving the garden, and crossing the stones making a path over the small pond.
The toe of her shoe skimmed water, bringing up some droplets. Not much of a care, given that a small misting was in the air. Not enough to require the need of any umbrella or hood. Many students were already heading into the school, umbrella's silhouetting their figures. Useless chatter filling the air, already causing her to wince as she skipped over a new stone. Chatter could be such a waste of breath, revealing too many secrets was dangerous when everyone already watched you like a hawk.
Some students were pristine and perfect. Some were ratty and rebellious. Some just did whatever they were told. Some didn't have a choice in the first place.
And others, like her, stopped caring a while back.
Mount Gambier was gorgeous, a gleaming crystal lake beside the city, greens everywhere. A city with crater lakes and a history of volcanoes. Explosive events shielded by the beauty of nature.
She had always lived there, and sadly, too many knew her face. No one knew her, to be truthful. Just the eyes, blue like the crystal lake, and the pale, slightly tanned skin. Messy, but tamed hair that reflected that classic family trait of hers.
"Hey bookworm!" Another kid called out, as she took her last jump, and she had to balance on the other side of the pond, arms flailing out in attempt to stabilize her balance. Her book was almost dropped in her haste, though her quick reflexes helped her balance the book in her right hand.
A harsh glare was thrown at the much too tall boy. To be fair, she was by far one of the tiniest people in their grade. She would graduate soon, and yet she stood at a measly five feet tall. He was over six feet tall, and overly annoyingly proud of it.
"Careful, wouldn't want to spill your book into the sea," He joked, and she rolled her eyes once again. Freddy thought everyone was his friend, overly friendly, sweet, and in classical terms, charming. Looks were never really something that mattered to her, though.
"A pond isn't the sea," She deadpanned, right back at him. With his sandy colored hair, slim petite figure, and friendly brown eyes. "It hardly would be a worry anyways, if you didn't always insist on bothering me."
Despite all her harshness, he laughed, tugging her away from the pond, despite her scrambling yells, and pulled her behind him, "Substitute today, some Frederick dude," she snorted when he suggested his own name up as the substitute's name, "Anne texted me, apparently he's a really cool dude."
"Our bloody teacher is not a dude," She pointed out, arms crossing as she finally tugged her hand away from his much larger ones. Not before obsessively fixing her sleeve, glancing around for a moment. "Someone's going to hear you acting like a fool, Fred, so shut it."
Her stern glare only caused him to snort, he went to tug on her arm again, though a swift slap to his hand had him relenting rather quickly. Grin still in place, he waved to her as he went off to visit with his actual friends. He turned back though, cupping his hands over his mouth, "See ya later, dude!"
She flipped him off, snorting at his stupidity, though a soft tutting had her hand falling immediately, clasping her hands behind her back as she turned towards the figure.
Scoffing immediately when she spotted the balding man, she bit her tongue to keep from insulting Mr. Linwick. He was pompous and annoying. When correcting him in class last year, he called her stupid, "There's an idiot at the end of this ruler," he had said.
"Which end?" She had replied.
"Professor Linwick, g'day mate," she let her Australian drawl lift more, nodding her head in respect, though her characteristic smirk said everything to the contrary.
"You know full well not to gesture at people, Ravana, you'd think that after your prior incidents, that you would watch your behavior." He snapped, accentuating her last name like an insult. It truly was, when she thought about it. Some people would wince when reminded of the terrors associated with that name.
She opened her mouth to retort, though she thought about the last times she had done so. The incident with the ruler lead to Juliet Lin Foster, her caretaker at the Group home, to be called.
The argument between the two on the way back resulted in a crash. No one died, but Juliet broke her arm, and constantly held it against her. "If you would have kept your mouth shut, we wouldn’t have gotten into this situation!"
She bit her lip, tightening the grip of her hands, clasped behind her back, knuckles white as she nodded, "Yes, sir." She whispered, glaring down at her feet. No point in talking back, she'd never win, just draw more attention unto herself.
"What was that? Raluca, I couldn't quite hear you." He had a cruel smile on his face. Fitting to how stupid he looked as it was, with his stupid suit and tie, and stupid slip on shoes. Using that stupid name she hated.
"Yes," she spat, louder, with a small hiss that clipped into her next words, glaring up at him, "Sir."
"Watch your tone!" He barked, stepping closer to her, towering over her despite his own short stature. He squared his shoulders, gaze burning at hers. She made herself taller too, glaring at him. A fiery match of glares, with neither side wanting to back down.
From the corner of her eyes she spotted other kids, all watching, turning to talk to one another. Sure, after her incident last year, some of them realized the quiet girl was much more rebellious than they thought. That the obedient girl had a wicked wild side. That the victim had some bite. A revelation that brought her closer in association to her own past, much too close for comfort.
She stepped back, bringing her arms to her front and crossing them, looking away from him, and instead at a picture of her class that was in the hall. If she looked hard enough, she could probably find herself. Arguing with him and make a scene, and that could get back to Juliet.
"Go to class," He ordered, and she turned to do so, letting off a sigh of annoyance in response to the teacher. She made it a few steps before he tutted some more, "Really, when will you learn, Banks?"
That caused her to stiffen. An energy to the air that was overly still, tension filled the room. Her heart felt like it sunk in her chest, cruelly twisting at her core. The other students went quiet, and Mr. Linwick grumbled again, muttering again, "Like mother, like daughter."
She looked over her shoulder, dark ponytail hanging over her shoulder as she scanned him with her twin blue orbs. She offered a cruel smirk at him, seething with a new rage, "You must be mistaken, I don't know anyone with that name. Now if you excuse me, sir, I have a bloody calculus class to get to. In that class, the teachers actually teach the students."
"Oh, but we won't argue that you're like her?" Her limbs shook slightly, breathing tightening as she felt red begin to enter her gaze, turning the world into an alarmingly fuzzy filter. She took a staggering step closer to him, fists falling to her sides and clenching. A chant of insults building in her mind, ready on her tongue, ready to retaliate and...
A figure stepped in front of her, causing her to stagger back with how quickly it came. A towering figure, dressed all in black, with a fedora to top it off. He cast a shadow over her form, but he wasn't facing her. The overcoat he wore trailed in front of her, almost like some trench coat. Almost surreal.
His voice reminded her of winter, cold and frosty and no room for warmth, "Lay off, man. The kid didn't ask for your opinion. Maybe lay out of her business?" The dude, one she had never seemed, turned and glared at her then. She took an immediate step back, alarmed by his odd green eyes, which seemed to peer through her soul in their intensity. Judgmental and cold, entirely apathetic, like the leaves of a poisonous plant. "Get to class, now."
She didn't need to be told twice, she glanced once more at Mr. Linwick, peering around the looming figure who stunned the teacher into silence too. Grinning then, she raised both hands, flipping him off with both, before stepping away, scurrying off to her first class.
In her movements, she could see her classmates, staring at the new trench coat fedora guy and Mr. Doucheface. Mr. Fedora looked angry and happy at the same time now, saying something she couldn't hear, though he turned over his shoulder, glancing at her again. Judgmental, calculating eyes, as if weighing the options to some grand question. Due to the angle, she could see his eyes under the sunglasses he wore.
She froze slightly, unnerved by his look. No one had eyes that green, she was sure. No one acted like a cold judgmental asshole while spitting insults like that. Not anyone she wanted to be associated with, anyways.
She sped up, walking into her class, glancing quickly at the clock in the corner of the room, assuring that she made it to class in time. The teacher offered her a welcoming smile, and she let out a breath of relief. She took her seat, next to Freddy and Anne, glancing at her acquaintances with a smile that quickly fell as she replayed the events in her mind.
"Today, in class we'll be learning about derivatives and logarithmic function." the soft timber filled the air, and she let her mind be consumed by the equations and words.
-----
At lunch, Luka had decided that like every day of school before that one, this one was a waste. A complete waste, one that she'd rather not deal with.
First hour went well, and she didn't have to deal with either Mr. Douchebag or Mr. Fedora-Man yet, so that was the bonus to the day thus far.
Cons to the day? Freddy and Anne were following her like lost birds. Freddy was annoying, constantly bothering her and stealing her books. She really didn't understand why he follows her around, of all people. She had a vague idea, but it wasn't much of one. It's not like she did a lot with them, or really hung out willingly.
Pity, was her guess. Pity because other people tended to avoid her. He had all kinds of friends, and was naturally sweet in that manner, though, so that might have been it too. He had a loving family, a loving group of close friends, and maybe he realized that was bit lacking.
Anne, for her part, was a sweet girl. A gorgeous blonde with blue eyes, shorter than Freddy, but easily towering Luka on any day of the week. Anne was newer to the school, and had been taken in more by Freddy and Luka's closest friend, Jake.
Jake was kind of the classic best friend to everyone, and as Luka would always say, he was the mom-friend. The point was, Luka was eating lunch, a simple sandwich outside as her friends spoke to one another. She silently glanced at the sky. Living in the nature like this, she was used to warmth and beauty and danger in the form of...well it's Australia, so every form of danger was pretty much present.
Despite the beauty of it all, loneliness came with it. A desperation, of sorts. Maybe only Jake would get that, that feeling of loneliness. Anne and Freddy were a bit more judgmental, despite their attempts not to, they spotted Luka as someone to keep their eyes on, someone to watch and be wary of.
Or, as the story went, someone who was defenseless, without family, and thus helpless in their eyes. She couldn't count how many times they'd place a hand on her shoulder when she showed the first signs of anger, and with their reactions to the one time she did lose control of her hold on emotions, to the point where her voice was wavering after a particular bad experience with Juliet, she had decided to never cry in front of them.
Don't get her started on if she got hurt, she never let them get close enough to help if she fell. She was much too independent to handle their treatment of her like a fragile doll. They didn't mean it in that manner, but it was offending. Right now, at lunch, it was just her, Anne, and Fred.
"I heard that Mr. Linwick was harassing you this morning," Anne was blunt, unlike Freddy in that manner. She would spring out with her words more apathetically, and worse, she'd do it out of nowhere. Bouncing from a conversation with her obvious crush, Freddy, Anne locked gazes onto Luka who was now a sputtering mess, "You didn't do anything this time, did you?"
Luka glared back at her, coughing slightly. Caught off guard by the topic even being breached in the first place. Haphazardly tossing her food elsewhere, she decided to address the topic, "I didn't do anything," a pause, because now she was kind of offended, to be honest, "I've never done a bloody thing anyways."
Anne scoffed, rolling her eyes and leaning back into the bench she sat on, overlooking the lake, "Yeah well, according to some kids, you were about to punch him."
"I was not going to punch him!" Indignantly, Luka retorted, though a sharp glare was thrown at Freddy as he snorted. "You guys act like I go around kicking babies or something."
"I could actually see you doing that," Freddy commented, helpfully, as Luka grunted in reply, pressing her head into her palms for a moment, food long forgotten. He had no filter, sometimes, "I'm surprised you haven't, actually."
Which, first of all, no one would believe that. While Luka had an interesting past, she was pretty well known for being an obedient, cold, and closed off kid who read books and hung out around one of the friendliest people in school. Occasionally, small pranks were thrown in as of late, but for the most part, Luka was a classic teacher's pet.
"Whatever," Anne scoffed, getting into an argument with the boy as they debated who was most likely to kick children for a living. Anne argued that while Luka might punch someone, she was much too cowardly and kind to hurt children. Fred simply glared at her as if she grew two heads.
"They can be a handful," A new voice piped up, and Luka grinned slightly, turning to spot the friend she had been waiting on. Jake was older than her by a year, but due to Luka being advanced a year in her classes, the two were in the same grade. The Korean boy grinned at her, sitting down on a stone next to hers while snorting at Fred's complaining as Anne through some food item at him. "You doing good?" the question was sudden, and she rolled her eyes.
"Never better," Classic, everyday routine, is what she meant. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. It wasn't her wavering around in homes, being watched by parents who either didn't care, or people who didn't want a kid with baggage like that. "You?"
"Never better."
The conversation was left at that as they ate, watching Fred and Anne argue, and the sun gleaming over the water. As Luka looked over the water, she gave pause in conversation, in the silence, content smile falling. On a rock, perched in the water, a bird with dark plume stared her down with unnerving green eyes.
---
When class resumed, Jake had decided to stick by Luka's side as they trekked into the rooms. They shared some of their latter classes. Though something seemed off, in Luka's opinion, since she saw those haunting eyes over the water. When she had blinked, it seemed like they had faded, but the feeling of horror never passed. Those orbs of the bird reminded her of the mysterious man's eyes, and that didn't settle well with her at all.
"You okay?" Jake questioned, his eyes gleaming with that caring energy he always held. He seemed concerned, and it was then that she realized she had stopped in the middle of the hallway.
"I'm-" Looking down the hall, she crossed her arms, smiling back at her friend after a moment, "I'm great, thanks."
He knew she was lying, and she knew he knew it. The way he seemed to waver between pressing the matter or letting it go. Maybe he realized it wasn't worth it to press. They both knew that she would never say it, not if she was determined to remain silent.
"Is Juliet bothering you again?" He softly questioned. He knew some of the tale, more than anyone did. Maybe all of it, but he was trusted. He was glancing at her with worried doe eyes that caused her to scoff.
A step or two down the hall, eager to beat the bell, "Juliet always bothers me," when his worried glance refused to move off of his features, she sighed, books cradles in her arms, "She's not bothering me any more than usual."
Juliet was her caretaker, or as legal terms would dub it, her guardian. Though, it wasn't personal enough to matter, Juliet's job was to take care of the Group Home, the place for unwanted orphans who couldn't get a home elsewhere. Juliet had personal grudges again Luka's family history, though the whole reason was much too large to analyze properly.
Luka didn't like thinking about Juliet as it was, "And you, Jake? Is anyone bothering you?" She pressed, stubbornly. His taken aback look made her feel slightly guilty, but it wavered slightly. He was the one barging into her personal business first.
"We have class, Luka." He retorted with, and she shrugged. Unlike his apparent motherly instincts, she didn't press his issues more than usual.
The two trekked forward, though Luka stubbornly fixed her skirt, trying to nestle the annoying fabric into falling over her knees without wrinkling. She wore a scowl for moment, stopping in the hall as Jake held back a chuckle.
"You doing good there, Lu?" The question caused her to glare at him, though she snorted at his cheekiness. "You've messed it up even more, by the way."
"I still don't understand these blasted uniforms." An omission of his comments, she was pointedly ignoring the fact that she wrinkled the stupid things further. "The stupid skirts stick like crazy to the leggings, I really don't understand why we have to wear them instead of something easier like pants."
"Pants would be too easy," Jake commented, shrugging, "And nothing in school can be easy."
"Fair dinkum," She agreed. Finally smoothing over the wrinkles, she started heading forward again, nervous eyes flittering about. She had to make sure no one saw a hair out of place, lest she want Juliet to have another reason to hate her.
Jake broke the silence as they neared their class, his smile already back in place, "I guess Mrs. Veruke is gone today, we got a substitute."
"Bonzer," She listened to the howling wind outside, it seemed like it might storm, "Fred was telling me earlier, any clue who it is?"
"No idea," He commented, returning his glance forward as he turned to enter the room, "Rumor has it that he was arguing with Linwick earlier."
She let her friend go first, thinking nothin of the small talk. Though when he went to her seat, she took a good glance at the substitute, a bit of bile in her throat. The same teacher it was, then. The teacher who told off Linwick. The one with the green eyes.
The unusual eyes were hidden, sunglasses hanging over his eyes, an eyebrow raised, smirk on lips, "You can't stand there all day, kid."
Decidedly, she hated this man. As Jake snorted from his own seat, she glared at him, flipping him off by instinct. Surprisingly, Mr. Fedora didn't seem to mind it all that much, only snorting in reply. That was surprising, given that the teachers were usually really quick to put an end to any kind of insulting, unless it was them doing the insulting.
Throwing her bag off, she collapsed into her seat, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling that she felt. The judgmental feeling that radiated off of the man. Like he was judging her whole life story.
Then again, sometimes adults freaked her out. Maybe that was it.
---
"Miss Ravana, meet me after class."
It was a simple set of words, only six in total, and two were used to address her name, but the words sent an immediate fear into the heart of the 17-year-old female, who nervously pulled at the sleeve of her school uniform. She hated the blasted thing with all she had, but it kept her in a home, gave her an education, and at least made the attention brought to the pitiful girl less than it had been before.
Looking up from taking her notes in the little journal she kept, she watched the tall, lanky, bespectacled substitute the class had been assigned for that day. He was dressed like he was attending a funeral, and nothing about him made her very comfortable. Not his judgmental stance, or how he clad himself in a trench coat and fedora like he was straight out of a murder mystery film.
Her journal was filled with best kept secrets, and notes on her favorite places. Overlooking the Blue Lake, walking to the Centenary Tower, taking long walks in the forest. All of it kept her mind off of the reality of what her world was, and would always be. Swinging her gaze to Jake, he seemed confused at her sudden anxiety. Then again, he probably didn't feel like green-eyed menace had been watching and judging his entire life the whole day either.
Despite the hushed whispers of the class, mostly talking of how creepy the sub was, and what stupid crap other students could get away with, Luka kept to her silence, impatiently tapping her pencil against her journal page. She had so much to write in it earlier, but now all that filled her mind was thinking back on her day and what she possibly did wrong. Thinking back on what could make this teacher hate her, or what he knew, or why he had seemed so watchful over her.
It hadn't even been a full minute since the substitute, who she learned was named Mr. Fenrir, had told Luka he needed to talk to her, and yet the bell was already releasing the class. Many were preparing for winter, with May ending and June soon arriving, and were all too excited to get home and snuggled up to avoid the chillier temperatures that came with winter. It didn't get as cold as it would in the Northern Hemisphere, but that didn't mean it never got cold.
She hadn't moved an inch, too lost in thought, and then someone was clearing their throat in an obvious manner, lurking above her like a shadow. Looking up, it was almost terrifying to see the serpentine like smile on Mr. Fenrir's face, and the fact that his eyes were hidden behind shades didn't help any.
"Miss Ravana, class ended minutes ago-" Indeed it had, a quick sweeping glance of the room confirmed it's emptiness, but only left her feeling more out of place than usual. Though he only snickered at her surprised face, slinging a hand over her shoulder as he guided her, much to her dismay, towards the door of the room, "Out, out, I have to pack up my things!"
"Um," Oh curses, she really shouldn't question a teacher of all things, they might call and burden the elder teens, or worse, they might bother Juliet, but her bloody curiosity wasn't fading, "I thought you wanted to talk to me?"
The man nodded, "Yes, but after I pack my things," she let the topic go, slinging her bag, a well worn one at that, over her back and stepping out of the room with an impatient glare, crossing her arms, and tapping her foot as she waited. However, moments passed of staring at the same beige wall, with the same displays from the Art Classes, and she huffed out. Impatience was reigning now.
"How long does it take to bloody pack a bluey?" She grumbled, tapping her fingers against her sling bag, rubbing her hands over the frayed strings.
Laughter emitted besides her, which was odd, because she never heard the footsteps. She visibly jumped, defensive position automatically, and really, who could blame the poor thing? Though Mr. Fenrir didn't seem phased in the slightest, simply stepping forward with a quirk to his lips, "You've got spunk, kid."
Spunk had never been used to describe the little rule-stickler, who chose not to jeopardize what she had in rule breaking, no matter how much she wanted to talk back or vex others who annoyed her. Quite simply, Luka had seen it before, children making the wrong choices, sometimes sent to Juvenile Detention Centers, though she always referred to them as bloody boot camps, the whole lot. No, Luka could never be a social delinquent, not when her lack in family already made her enough of a target, or rather, someone who was and always had been ignored or given too much attention.
"I don't have any blasted spunk in my body, yabber about me to anyone, they'll tell you I'm a piker. And I hate to inconvenience you, but I have heaps of hard yakka to do and-" She paused, taking in the barely concealed laughter Mr. Fenrir was holding it, "What is your bloody problem now, mate?"
"You pronounce every word in careful detail, and then start in on yabber and piker? What does that even mean?" He seemed more human now, and less like a monster that he seemed like earlier. Maybe she was too quick to jump to conclusions, his eyes probably didn't glow, and maybe they weren't snake-like either.
She blinked, before she facepalmed slightly. The bloody teacher was a dill, of all things. Obviously not from around those parts. "Yabber, you know, blabbering about with some ankle biters-?" clearly this is doing no good and is only prompting the man's laughter further. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. You wanted to talk to me, what about, you old mug?"
She found herself, surprisingly, insulting the man in a almost gentle fashion, and his amusement at it caused her to return just the barest of smile. He wasn't as scary as he had seemed earlier, he was far from polite, but he reminded her in a strange way of her father.
"You just didn't seem to talk much during class," he's quite perceptive, to have caught onto that. A bit disconcerting that he had kept such a close eye on her. He didn't say much more for several moments, just walking out the door into the light, frigid rain. He seems to be a bit silly and scatterbrained, mumbling about how "Odd the seasons are south of the Hemisphere."
And yet still, he hadn't answered her question. It was like he's specifically trying to annoy her. Or maybe trying to keep up his façade of mystery.
"Mate, none of that explains why I'm here in a bloody storm following you like a dipstick," That's certainly more to this man's liking? Newer age comment, though it still seemed to glide over his head.
"I never quite caught your name, what is it, kid?" She hates that she can't see the man's bloody eyes behind his sunnies. She hates the bloody things. People should speak where people can bloody see them. She isn't sure at first what to be annoyed more about, the fact that he's dilly-dallying or that he looks like a bloody kidnapper and the school somehow let him in. Most of all, she hates that she has no way of telling if his eyes were those haunting hue she had seen earlier.
"Luka," she grounded out, she would return the question, but she's heard his names and gotten pretty accustomed to the uncultured swine by now.
"Oh, yes, Luka," Bloody hell, he's a murderer. She's sure now, no one just goes around asking teens names dressed in black, leading said kid into an ally where no one will see the kidnapping or murder. Still, she follows, because it's a little late to turn back anyways. "Luka, what's the worst thing you've ever done?"
Oh, he's going to gut her most precious kept secrets and then gut her. What a great situation to be caught in. Instinctively, she clutches her sling bag closer to her petite body. She's tiny as can be, underweight as well, but she knows quite a few ways to kick arse.
"That's none of your bloody bizzo, mate," she snaps back. Appearances don't matter if she's about to be a bloody carcass, well, in this case of bloody, she means it literally.
"What?" His timber of voice is absolutely mischievous and teasing, and it already grates on her nerves, "Does Luka have a big bad secret she's hiding?"
She's not some ankle-biter, she won't be talked to like she bloody is one.
"Not that I don't enjoy some earbashing, lad, but I have to get-" well, it's not home, and she can't say it is either, so she stops midsentence, and glances away, "Fine, once, back when I was a wee ankle-biter, this swaggie lil' bloke was crackin' onto this lady, trying to get to court her, if I hazard a guess. Lad couldn't take a hint, so I pull a porky, and waddled on up, asking for some moolah so I could go buy some stuff for mum. Pretended to be his ankle-biter, poor lad got all red and embarrassed, drunk enough that he actually believed it, got slugged by the lass too."
Mr. Fenrir chuckled, following along with whatever parts he could, and Luka actually chuckled herself. The caretakers had been so mad when one of the bartenders had to escort her home, and so she never dared repeat a similar instance. "So you snuck out of your house to get a man assaulted at a bar?"
She hummed in agreement, wincing at the cold sting the rain droplets left as they hit her skin. Fenrir himself had an umbrella, of course in matching black color. Though the word house didn't fit at all. Not like she was stuck up on it.
"How many siblings do you have, kid?"
"I'm not a kid. Do I look like a kid to you?" It was teasing, it was the first time she could openly talk to someone without worrying about respect or silly manners. He was such a teasing figure too. "None for me, little wee straggler, that's me."
"You must get a lot of attention at home then, don't you?"
She froze, not really meaning too. She's practically soaked in chilly droplets from head to toe, and hadn't noticed it before, so caught up in talking to the dark-clad man that she didn't even notice how far out of the way she was until she finally took a moment to think.
"Awfully personal questions," she responded, in kind, avoiding the thought of answering all together, though he simply hummed in reply.
"Touchy, touchy," clicking of the tongue was hear, and he stopped as well, "Honestly, you act as if I'm you're long lost father or something."
"No," she passively states, rolling her eyes, and arms crossed over her chest to quell any shivers, "He never came back, wouldn't do so now." He didn't have a choice though, and she silently mourned the fact in her mind.
"Oh," he chuckled, and she's glad it isn't shunning or pity this time around, "I guess I could be a doing the drag too, how about your mum?"
"Bloody hag is halfway to hell by now, probably." She vehemently stated, before looking at him, "Mr. Fenrir, were you simply seeking somebody to chat up, or were you looking for a bloody victim?"
He full out guffaws in laughter, such a strange man. "Oh, oh silly me!" he exclaims, straightening, "Mortals are so easy to fool. No offense, kid, but there is no Mr. Fenrir." He flashes a grin, which is completely off-putting and causes her to stagger back slightly.
She blinked, once, twice, and then she noticed something in his hand. Something that she had no idea how he got it, or why he had it. Her journal. A journal that he's opened and is now focusing on.
"Today was boring, again. Bloody brats and ankle-biters, the whole lot," his voice takes on a girly, childish tone, a horrible imitation, "The other girls at the group home are about as perceptive as the blasted maids, which is none at all," he continued onwards, before looking up at the short, furious teen, lips curled into a smirk, "If you hate 'em so much, why not kill them?"
"That's illegal!" She immediately responds, lunging at him to take back her journal. She had nothing to really hide, but she wants to just be done with the conversation as is by now. The way he questioned, as if murder was a good response to handling your issues.
"Most people would reply 'No, not murder'! That's morally unjust!" He titters, before looking around, like he's assuring there are no witnesses.
The comment makes her feel like maybe he does know, and he's prying. She refuses to give him the satisfaction of a response, instead deciding to question whatever he's wanting to do.
"What in the bloody hell are you doin', mate?" She wanted to punch herself, she likely sounded like an uncultured swine! Bloody man seemed so English and proper, and yet so horrible too.
"Making sure no one's watching," he easily replies, before glancing back at her, mischievous grin still in place.
"I'm about to die, aren't I?" She should be more concerned, really, she should. She was stuffed, however, from her day as it was. Winter always could do that to a bloody kid. Especially when one lived in a country where during the hottest days, your shoes could melt by walking on asphalt.
"Not really, but everyone will think you're dead and you'll likely wish you were." He then moves on, rolling his eyes at her startled expression, like he didn't just admit he was going to bloody kidnap her! She stepped back, nerves frayed and heart beating too quickly. Scanning anywhere for anyone to help, like Jake, or Fred, or Anne.
"Wait, wait, hold up lad. I'm not about to be another bloody case of murder or kidnapping." Not again.
"I'm not murdering or kidnapping you. I'm just...permanently relocating you're residency." The way he draws his words would be otherwise comical if she wasn't trying to find an escape route.
"That's bloody kidnapping-" and really, it isn't the time to argue, but she's not about to stop. She already taking several steps back, and she can spot those green eyes over the sunglasses again.
"Raluca Ravana-" He starts, voice taking on a much more serious tone, as he tosses his umbrella haphazardly at her, causing water to slap right into her face, much to her chagrin.
"-Wait, how do you know my real name?" She hated the blasted name, how would he know it? Unless he's been stalking her, and she fell into his trap. Maybe he heard Linwick say it earlier?
"You have been selected by Loki, the trickster god of the Norse Æsir," and Luka hears a grumbled "and the best one" before he speaks up again, "You will become my champion, and in doing so, you will gain a fraction of my abilities. In return, I will act as your guide-"
She paused, snorting slightly at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Her scoff doesn't seem to effect him all that much, so she pushes on, filter apparently gone due to her prior fear, "Excuse me, mate, but you are the weirdest stoner I've ever bloody met."
He rolled his eyes, the words were odd, and weird, and didn't seem to be natural, "This is proclaimed, and sealed, by Loki, the god of trickery and the great shapeshifter."
She backed up still, though she paused momentarily as she spotted his silhouette, seeming to dance between several forms. When she went to look at him, all she spotted was a simple snake, staring at her. Her eyes widened, breath leaving as she scrambled back more, pointing the umbrella like some weapon at the snake.
"I'm going bloody insane," she choked out, though the snake lunged at her, straight into her arms, despite her attempt to step back, and she immediately felt lightheaded and dizzy. The ground underneath her melted, covered in pitch black, as her skin burnt where her hands made contact with the scales of the wily creature, which was suddenly gone. It felt like bones had shifted, to fit a new purpose, meld as she may need, and the excruciating pain ran with her veins burning like fire. But she couldn't cry, or scream, she could only fall.
Suddenly, things ran back into focus in a blur, she could made out golden walls, and stairs that she collided with much to quickly to properly land on. She sailed forward, crashing down all the bloody sets of stairs, somehow she had been at the top, and in her ears, she heard recognizable manic laughter.
Manic laughter, accompanied by the cries of falling children.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 24, 2020 16:41:51 GMT -5
Nice, well lemme use this as a save for future writing stuff WRITING 1 - ABANDONED WAREHOUSE SCENE Of all the ways Laurie had spent Hallowe’en over the years, this was probably the least ideal. Though at least in terms of having a Halloween-like aesthetic it was probably the best.
Step one to having a terrible Hallowe’en: spend it with your ex.
Laurie glanced to his right, where a figure stood. He was barely visible in the dim lighting apart from the coppery glint of his red hair, and the dull sheen of the tip of his spear. His eyes, though, flashed as he took in the scene around them. Always looking, always aware. Always calculating the next move, always trying to protect everyone and be a leader.
River stood some distance away from Laurie, the gap between the Champion of Ares and the Champion of Dionysus a constant reminder of their discomfort around one another. They couldn’t so much as brush shoulders, and they’d barely spoken to one another all night; they didn’t talk unless it was essential.
Spend Hallowe’en with your ex: check.
River wasn’t the only one accompanying Laurie, though. The group included, for example, Echo, Naida, Daniel and Pascal. A slightly ragtag bunch, perhaps, but certainly a big enough group and a group with varied enough powers to be able to handle this.
See, what was not ideal about that Hallowe’en was the fact that they’d been called out to investigate reports of unusual activity that sounded like it was consistent with the exiled. Laurent was of course, like the rest of the group, completely unaware that it was a trap.
Step two to having a terrible Hallowe’en: spend it investigating a creepy location.
The Champion of Dionysus watched as River stepped forward. He’d insisted he go first, probably due to all the residual guilt after the last battle River had been involved in. Not to mention his desire to protect, particularly when it came to Echo. None of the group would dare let her get hurt.
He disappeared through the large open doorway, swallowed up by the gaping shadows inside. He seemed to be swallowed into silence too, for no noise came out of the darkness.
Laurie followed next, his grip on his staff tightening until his knuckles went white as he stepped toward the doorway. With a deep breath, he stepped forward, allowing the shadows to envelop him just as they had done River only moments before.
It was like stepping forward into nothing at first, just blackness. He could smell the dust in the air, though, could feel it choking and suffocating.
Blindly, he took another step forward, swallowing as the sound reverberated in an echo from the walls, Laurie’s footstep filling the building slowly like a wave inching up the shore.
There was only one source of light in the place, and it was nowhere near bright enough to illuminate anything. A jagged hole in the roof, like the gaping maw of some animal, opened out onto the sky. Shafts of silvery moonlight spilled through, enough to show a few shadowy shapes.
The young man reached into his pocket, his hands closing on the torch he carried. He’d have to drop it to use his staff, but that was an inconvenience he’d have to accept; he needed to be able to see better in this place.
He pulled the torch out of his pocket, clicking it on to create a beam of uncertain, shaky light. With it, he could see River, and soon the shapes of the others as they followed him in.
The thing that drew his eye the most, though, was the building itself. Shelves reached up like skyscrapers, stacked with boxes. They formed rows and aisles through the building; the whole thing was like some sort of maze, and one Laurie didn’t fancy the idea of getting lost in.
The light illuminated the dust in the air even more clearly, drifting softly past the light and seeming almost to glitter. When he shone the beam into the corners of the room, it had no effect. They were like black holes, shadowy places from which no light escaped. They seemed to grow and shift and move as if alive. Boxes were stacked up against the walls.
Perfect, an abandoned warehouse.
Spend Hallowe’en investigating a creepy location: check.
With everyone inside, Laurie watched as Naida moved to stand by River. The other leader. She’d obviously been sent on the mission because it was River’s first mission since the day he and Laurie broke up. The leaders must have felt River needed monitoring to ensure he could be trusted, especially with Laurie on the mission.
The French boy shifted a little closer to River, but still kept Echo between him and his ex. It was too painful right now to be close to River. His voice, his scent, his touch. It would be too much.
Laurie was far too hurt to be able to just be friends, and he suspected River felt the same way.
Step three to having a terrible Hallowe’en: split up.
“We should split up, cover more ground.” River suggested, and Naida made a hum of agreement “Echo should stay with someone though, maybe Daniel. Just shout for Naida or I if you see anything.”
Shit.
Split up: check.
“Great, like every horror movie ever. What could possibly go wrong?” Laurie grumbled
Laurie’s protests went unheeded, obviously, because River silently indicated for the group to split. With no further complaint, Laurie stepped into one of the aisles of storage shelves, the beam of light from his torch scanning the area before him carefully. The man clutched the torch like it was some kind of lifeline.
The air in the warehouse was chilly, probably due to the goddamn hole in the roof. Laurie’s breath escaped him in clouds of silvery air, increasingly rapidly as he walked slowly among the towering shelves.
He wasn’t sure if it was the cold or what, but Laurie was aware of the prickle of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something felt wrong about this place.
His pulse hammered, his movements becoming sharper and more erratic as Laurie shone his light all around him, sure he kept detecting movement among the shadows.
An echoing crack.
Laurie froze, shining his torch in the direction of the sound only to find nothing. A heavy, leaden unease settled in his stomach, and after a moment where he was too afraid to move a muscle, he continued on.
At the end of the row of shelving, Laurie turned to move into the next aisle, stepping backwards to ensure nothing was following him.
He barely got a few steps before he felt a pressure on his back.
His blood ran cold, his entire body stiffening. His eyes widened in fright, his breath seeming to leave him for a split second.
With a yelp, Laurie whirled round, only for his torch to meet the equally frightened River, who seemed to have been walking backwards himself. The light met the whites of River’s eyes for a second, before both boys let out a relieved but sharp sigh.
“River,” Laurie said breathlessly "Merde,"
“Laurie. Thank f*ck,” River responded, loosening his grip on his spear a little and clearing his throat.
That was when they both suddenly seemed to remember that they were, in fact, broken up. That new awkwardness Laurie hated descended on them both.
“I’ll just go that way, and you can-“ Laurie mumbled, gesturing first to the area behind River and then jabbing a thumb to the area behind him, to indicate the directions he meant. He would never have suggested the two of them go on together, that would simply be excruciating for the both of them and to be frank, Laurie didn't think Naida would appreciate the idea of Laurie and River sticking together after the last battle. He knew Cleo and the other leaders had been furious about it.
River made some sort of grunting sound of assent; neither of them felt the need or desire to talk, obviously. Laurent just watched as the other man walked away with only one last glance over his shoulder. Laurie didn't move again until the light from River's own torch had disappeared from view.
Releasing a breath he didn't know he had been holding, Laurie continued on, trying his best to steel himself.
He needed to get a grip, he kept telling himself. it was just an old warehouse, nothing more than that. He had faced the exiled before and they were frightening but not impossible to fight. The abandoned warehouse scenario didn't change that at all. A fight in this place wouldn't be so much different from a fight in a field. This was not so bad, really.
The dread he continued to feel, the cautiousness of his step, told him he hadn't entirely succeeded in convincing himself.
Another echoing footstep.
It was probably just River, he tried to tell himself, or one of the others. Maybe Echo or Pascal, or Daniel perhaps. There were so many of them in here; it didn't have to mean there was anyone there aside from the group, right?
He lifted his torch, looking in the direction from which the sound had come. And he couldn't help himself drawing in a sharp and fearful breath when he was sure he saw movement in the shadows. A growth, a shift in the darkness.
He had to keep moving. He wouldn't dare call out for River or Naida, not until he knew for sure what it was he was seeing and hearing. It would be far too embarrassing if it simply turned out to be another member of the group, especially since River evidently thought Laurie was some kind of damsel in distress who needed his protection. He wasn't. He was the goddamn Champion of Dionysus and while he might not be a fighter, there was nothing at all to indicate that he wasn't as good at handling himself in this kind of scenario as the other Ascendants were.
He kept moving, though now considerably more on edge, until he heard one more footstep. With the echo he couldn't tell where it was coming from, which was kind of infuriating to be entirely honest. Worst of all, it was completely disorienting.
Slowly he stepped closer to the shelf nearby, using his torch to try to see over the boxes and illuminate the next aisle. He was sure that was where he had seen the shadows before.
Laurie stood for a few long moments, breath leaving him in short, sharp bursts, eyes roving to find anything at all in the darkness. He could feel the cage of his ribs, like it was tight around his lungs. His feet felt rooted to the spot, his skin cold with fear.
He didn't hear any footsteps behind him before hands reached round to cover Laurie's eyes. Stiffening and standing straighter, Laurie's torch clattered to the ground; he could hear it rolling on the floor of the warehouse, spinning in place.
Air with whispered words rushed around his ears, sending an electrifying chill down Laurie's spine. He still had hold of his staff, and now both hands reached to hold it, gripping until his fingers ached.
Step four to having a terrible Hallowe'en.
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