TBD Vhalar, 718
Finn imagined his eyes were burning small holes into Blackwood's haphazard attire. Why couldn't she just open up another portal? Rupturers, Zipper had told him, were weasels. Weasels who created dangerous pinpricks in the fabric of reality and slipped through them like startled rabbits fleeing into their holes. She'd suggested the magic might suit him "since you're such a mewling coward", her choice of phrase had been. Rupturers cared not for the chaos they left behind, cared not that they rented the dream realm apart to service themselves, and they had an annoying tendency to spy on others with their scrying. He almost wished Blackwood was spying on him now, then perhaps she would've noticed the ugly look he was drilling into her back. If he had eyes in his back, he would send the same look at Maxine who followed somewhere behind.
One sore, plodded footstep after another they marched over muddy roads. The sloshing, sucking sound of their boots wading through mud and swamp had mingled into a neverending drone of buzzing mosquitoes, scarcely waiting for the three blood vessels to drop dead so they could be sucked dry. For a long while he hadn't minded. Hadn't minded the bog they were in which whispered tales of lost wanderers buried deep under rust-colored soil. Hadn't minded the quiet either. Every bit spent in relative silence was another moment they didn't think of sending him away or turning him back in to Rharne’s authorities, but as dusk settled and his stomach growled, and his patience wore thin.
Neither of the women would ever admit it of course, but they were hopelessly lost.
He slowed his pace until Maxine, who looked anything but grateful for having been rescued from a cycle within Rharne’s prison walls, had caught up with him. He barely wiped the foul look from his face as he locked step with her and joined her at her side. “What's the matter wiv’ you two? You ain't never this quiet usually… “ he ventured to ask. Had to be careful around Max, even with the elements at his side. She looked like the slightest breeze might throw her off balance but he knew this was far from true. Few had consistently fought back tooth and nail against Zippers oppressive regime in that miserable childhood institution and lived to tell the tale. Her skin didn't lie, littered as it was with bruises, scabs, faint scars and healing cuts, as if she'd never stopped scrappin' since the day she'd met his sister.
His sister. His only family. His terrible next of kin. His saviour a dozen times over. His worst bully. His worst nightmare, and his only crutch in life.
She was many things and she was family. Family in need of help, though she'd rather keep up her mask of indomitableness than admit to needing help.
His sister, stuck in a faraway landed that wished to rid itself of magics and those who bore it. He glanced up at Max again, all too aware of the irony that she was chosen by fate to help him save Zipper from inescapable doom.
“Are we there yet?“
Rynmere couldn't be much further. They'd been on the road from Rharne for at least a trial now after all.
One sore, plodded footstep after another they marched over muddy roads. The sloshing, sucking sound of their boots wading through mud and swamp had mingled into a neverending drone of buzzing mosquitoes, scarcely waiting for the three blood vessels to drop dead so they could be sucked dry. For a long while he hadn't minded. Hadn't minded the bog they were in which whispered tales of lost wanderers buried deep under rust-colored soil. Hadn't minded the quiet either. Every bit spent in relative silence was another moment they didn't think of sending him away or turning him back in to Rharne’s authorities, but as dusk settled and his stomach growled, and his patience wore thin.
Neither of the women would ever admit it of course, but they were hopelessly lost.
He slowed his pace until Maxine, who looked anything but grateful for having been rescued from a cycle within Rharne’s prison walls, had caught up with him. He barely wiped the foul look from his face as he locked step with her and joined her at her side. “What's the matter wiv’ you two? You ain't never this quiet usually… “ he ventured to ask. Had to be careful around Max, even with the elements at his side. She looked like the slightest breeze might throw her off balance but he knew this was far from true. Few had consistently fought back tooth and nail against Zippers oppressive regime in that miserable childhood institution and lived to tell the tale. Her skin didn't lie, littered as it was with bruises, scabs, faint scars and healing cuts, as if she'd never stopped scrappin' since the day she'd met his sister.
His sister. His only family. His terrible next of kin. His saviour a dozen times over. His worst bully. His worst nightmare, and his only crutch in life.
She was many things and she was family. Family in need of help, though she'd rather keep up her mask of indomitableness than admit to needing help.
His sister, stuck in a faraway landed that wished to rid itself of magics and those who bore it. He glanced up at Max again, all too aware of the irony that she was chosen by fate to help him save Zipper from inescapable doom.
“Are we there yet?“
Rynmere couldn't be much further. They'd been on the road from Rharne for at least a trial now after all.
