Remnants of the Earth
TEINAR => Teinar => Topic started by: Anonymous on February 15, 2011, 12:12:44 am
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It had been a long night, trying to keep the city together and Harmony was worn out. And he needed some food. Coffee just didn't cut it after a while. So he had called it a night and was strolling through the streets, heading to his favorite noodle stand.
Any place that had "meat surprise" couldn't be all bad.
It was a little hole in the wall place, like every place in Teinar. Filthy, cramped and delicious. Ordering a bowl of the noodles, Harmony took a seat in front of the stand, digging into the food with obvious relish. This was as close as he was ever going to get to the divine.
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Crap.
Harmony was only a block away, in the same direction that Temple and Cyrus were heading. Temple had encountered his mind several minutes ago and had tried to steer them off in another direction, but Cyrus wasn't being especially malleable today.
Harmony was so much more difficult to manipulate than Conrad had been. Temple had adopted a strategy of avoidance. Whereas he could have convinced Conrad he was no threat and might have been able to bring the man into perspectives of Temple's choosing, Harmony wasn't worth the risk of it. He wanted Harmony to forget about him, and had been doing a decent job of ensuring he didn't end up wherever Harmony was.
As they came within sight of the food stand he glanced at Cyrus. Hopefully neither of them would notice the other.
-
"Don't see why ya always gotta be so damned stubborn," Cyrus was grouching as they headed for the stand. Here he was, trying to do a nice thing like get them a bite to eat and the Pilot goes all weird, trying to redirect them. He didn't know what the kid's problem was, but whatever, he was hungry, they were almost there, and he had his heart set on the delicious food he could smell wafting from the place.
He lead them both to the front and placed his order, then elbowed Temple. "Whatcha want? Personally, I'd suggest the number two."
It was a rather tasty number, noodles in a spicy sauce. With small, colorful beetles in it. That were alive. Cooking them just ruined the flavor, otherwise they tasted kind of like chicken and had a very satisfying crunch with a nice burst of juicy flavor. Delicious.
He was looking around, scouting out a place to sit while Temple ordered when he saw him--Harmony. Smiling, Cyrus gave the man a wave. "Well, hello, stranger!"
-
Harmony looked up and saw Cyrus and gave him a small smile, nodding his head, "Ah. Hello. I see you have good taste in food." He liked the solider, found him useful and reliable. He didn't take much shit and never gave him shit in return. Knew how to follow orders well.
And then his eyes fell on the other man with him, the pretty boy Pilot. Harmony hadn't really decided what he was going to do with him yet. He still might be useful, so he wouldn't get rid of him yet. But he also wasn't sure he wasn't a threat to Teinar.
He studied the man, slurping his broth, his favorite being hot enough to make most people cry and had mystery meat in it. He never asked what it was and they never told.
"I see yer out and about tonight."
-
Well shit. That had gone exactly as he hoped it wouldn't. They'd seen each other and now he was going to have to hang out with Harmony for the gods knew how long. He'd gotten to the point where he could tolerate Cyrus's company, but Harmony was another matter. He was trying to make the man forget about them. Difficult to do when they'd be dining together.
Temple gave Harmony a simple nod by way of greeting, then let Cyrus take over the man's attention. He balked at the menu before him.
"Nothing for me, thanks." Some of this stuff didn't sound genuinely edible.
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"Yeah, and I'm the lucky sod got stuck playing babysitter," Cyrus said, scooping up his bowl as soon as his order came up. He grabbed a set of chopsticks and stabbed a chunk of beetle meat as he waited on Temple, took a bite, then used some of the condiments up front to season his meal until it was adequately spicy.
He popped the rest in his mouth and crunched down on it with obvious relish. It still had the shell half on and a number of legs still attached, but that's what gave it its tasty texture. "And apparently he's on hunger strike. Whatcha mean, nothing? Ya ain't even eaten yet," he said, spearing another large chunk of meat and trying hard to hide his grin.
Alright, so he hadn't brought princess here out of the goodness of his heart. Aedolians, he'd heard, found the idea of eating insects appalling and he'd been sort of dying to find out if that was really true--much less if a Pilot could really be that precious. So far, Violet had been proving pretty dainty.
He waggled the meat chunk at Temple, and some of the legs that were still attached twitched. "Don't be a fuckin' retard. Shit, I'm offerin' here. Get something. It's good."
-
Harmony ate a bit of his broth, savoring the spicy flavor. His seemed insect free, though there were some hunks he suspected might be just a large insect. It just soaked up all the flavor and squished in his mouth.
He watched Temple, unimpressed, one eyebrow lifting, "Well well. Pilot too good for our food? Fine by me. Don't wanna eat here, don't gotta eat at all then." Kid wanted to starve himself, that was fine by him. Save him some trouble.
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Temple suppressed a sigh. With Harmony here he had to keep quite a bit more control of himself than he bothered with when he was alone with Cyrus. Harmony needed to forget him after this and that meant—the gods help him—that he was going to have to go along with everything and eat this crap. Maybe even the twitchy, still-living delicacy that Cyrus was holding up.
He gave the soldier a flat stare before turning back to the menu. He'd never been so grateful to be a psychic. Never. He delved into the mind of the cook and found the least offensive thing he could. Some of the things they put in there were horrifying. Mold and insects were not food!
What he got was mostly acceptable to him and heavy on the peppers. The spiciness was the one thing about Teinari dishes he actually liked. Make it spicy enough and you barely tasted the awful flavors. Cyrus was paying for this one; that was the other good thing.
Temple took a seat opposite Harmony. When he got Cyrus alone, he was going to tell him that he was not dainty. He was going to tell him that pretty hard. And possibly pin Cyrus to the ceiling for thinking it.
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Since Temple didn't want it, Cyrus grinned widely at the Pilot and popped the still-living thing in his mouth, chewing with far more relish than was necessary. Still grinning smugly as Temple turned to the menu, he joined Harmony at the table, sliding into a seat to the man's right.
"Pffft, don't think Violet's got anything left to starve away," he said, looping some noodles around the chopsticks and shoveling them into his mouth. "Some military program Aedolis got. They musta skimped out on the milk and protein. Speaking of protein..."
Temple had joined them at the table and he just couldn't help but notice that he'd gotten one of the only dishes on the menu that didn't have meat in it. Plucking up several of the beetles in his own dish, Cyrus plopped them into Temple's bowl. "There. It'll put hair on your chest an' muscle on your bones."
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Harmony grinned slightly as he watched the two banter. Taking another bite, he watched Temple get a gift of several beetles, "Mmmm. Must have made a good impression. Those are the best part Princess."
How someone this...frail had managed to make it into the Aedolian military worried Harmony. It meant his mind tricks were obviously dangerous. Kid could handle his spice though, that was good. So many outsiders whined about how hot things were here.
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Temple gritted his teeth and forced a smile at Cyrus. Not a very nice smile. More like an I-hate-you-please-die smile. "Thank you. I was so afraid I'd get out of here without getting to try one of these."
Oh lovely! Another nickname, this one even worse than Violet. Violet he was actually starting to get use to, Cyrus said it so much. And his eyes were purple. Where had Harmony got 'Princess' from anyway? The worst part was he couldn't say a damn thing about it, not to Harmony, not yet. His situation was still too tenuous.
He poked around at the beetles in his bowl. The still living and crawling beetles. He'd eat one he just...needed to work himself up to it. "What do you call these things any—hey!"
He leaned forward to stare right into Cyrus's eyes so he could get a better look. He'd never noticed their color before, but they were purple! This? This was going to make his day. "Your eyes are violet!"
He sat back and shook with laughter. "They're even a light violet! They're pastel!"
-
Cyrus knew he was being a bad, bad man, but he was loving every second of this. With Harmony around, the Pilot was obviously on his best behavior--which meant Cyrus could fuck with him and he couldn't do shit. He returned Temple's tight smile with an annoyingly chipper one and beamed a grin at Harmony.
"Yeah, he made some sorta impression, that's for..."
He trailed off. Temple was staring at him, soul-gazing, in fact, and Cyrus looked back and forth uncomfortably and leaned back in his chair. The hell was he looking at him like that for? Unless it was a literal soul-gaze and he was literally fiddling around in his fucking head right now like he'd told him a million times to leave it well alone.
Just as he was about to ask why he was making creepy doe-eyes at him, all was explained.
"What?"
...Well, shit.
Wasn't like he spent much time in front of a mirror prettying up. Somehow, he realized with dawning horror, he'd forgotten that itty bitty detail.
He reeled back in his seat and made a point of staring down at his food. "Ya shut your mouth, they're not! Fuck, ya needa get your eyes checked too? They're not violet, dipshit, they're gray. They just...it's this lighting."
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Harmony blinked, not really expecting that turn of events. He had never payed much attention to Cyrus's looks and he leaned forward. The man did have purple eyes. Lips quirking up, Harmony chuckled, "Well well. Looks like the Pilot got you on that one Cyrus."
Watching those two was like watching some play or comedy. Funny as shit, though slightly childish.
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Temple pounded a fist on the table. He could not stop laughing. Cyrus eyes were such a pretty violet! Oh gods, how perfect.
"Well," he said as soon as he could talk again, "then that is a really purple shade of gray. Oh sure. Yes. The lighting. Absolutely. I know in the right lighting my hair is blonde, so yeah."
He caught up one of the beetles between his chopsticks and held it up to Cyrus. "Cheers, Violet!" And he popped it into his mouth. It was every bit as disgusting as he thought it would be, not so much the taste but just the texture, juicy and gooey and runny with that distinctive crunch of the shell. He would eat these things all day every day if it shut them up. He would prefer not to, but this was what passed for respectable in Teinar.
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Cyrus groaned and rolled his--very violet--eyes at the both of them. "Stop validatin' him, Harmony!" he grumbled, not at all amused by the spectacle Temple was currently making and annoyed that he could feel his face heating over it.
"Fuck! It ain't that funny!" And when Temple had the gall to call him 'Violet', the only thing that stopped him from slugging him right in his pretty face was Harmony's presence. Didn't want to make a scene.
With a growl, he stared down at his own food and violently speared one of the bugs. "If I weren't so opposed to hittin' girls, you'd be on the fuckin' floor right now."
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"Sure it is." Harmony took another bite of his noodles, enjoying them when suddenly his radio crackled and a voice spoke from it, "Sir? There is uh...a problem."
"What happened?" Harmony silently swore, setting down his chopsticks.
"I would rather tell you in person Sir."
"Fine. I'll be right there." With a sigh, Harmony stood and nodded to the other two, "Well, enjoy yer meal. Don't cause any trouble, Violet." He made sure to leave it unclear which of the two he was talking to with that comment and headed back to headquarters. It was going to be a very long night.
-
Temple stopped laughing, and the humor in his eyes took on a dark cast. He knew full well that he could look convincingly sinister when he wanted. His face was lent to delicacy, but also to malevolence.
He watched Harmony leave and waited until he was out of hearing range before saying anything to Cyrus. "Like I said, anytime. You just find a place where I won't get arrested for beating the crap out of you."
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Cyrus glowered at Harmony's back but chose to believe that that was directed at Temple. It made him happier that way.
As soon as Harmony was gone, though, it was cats and dogs all over again. Cyrus jabbed the chopsticks--with the beetle still wriggling at the end--at Temple. He gestured with them to accentuate his words. "I know plenty of places, princess," he said, adopting Harmony's nickname. Less ambiguous! "So ya pick the time and we're there!"
The beetle flew off the chopsticks and into Temple's lap.
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The beetle stopped in midair, then floated upward, little legs wiggling.
"As I said, anytime. Now where should this end up?" He spun the beetle slowly.
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Cyrus's eyes went wide and he jerked backwards, chair skidding across the ground in his haste to get away. "Stop that! Put it down! Now! Put it down!"
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He wanted to drop it on Cyrus's head, but he thought he might run screaming from the building. He, the soldier, the man's man. Great gods. He could be such a sissy about telekinesis.
Temple set the beetle on the ground and watched it scurry away.
"Happy?"
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"No," Cyrus growled, staring down at the beetle as it scurried off as though expecting it to take to the air again. He didn't stop watching it until it had vanished into a crack. "I would've been happier if ya hadn't done that shit at all. It's fuckin' creepy. And wrong. And not right."
Slowly, he returned to his chair and scowled at Temple. "Now finish your food already. We ain't got all day."
-
Oh if Cyrus only knew just how often Temple read his mind and the minds of everyone around them. He probably would have shot him a long time ago if he had any concept of how very prevalent and pervasive telepathy was around him. Temple had been here for weeks and Cyrus still wasn't used to the idea.
"I'm done with this. Outstanding as it is." Temple nudged the bowl away. He'd met Cyrus's beetle challenge and didn't care to eat any more of it.
"You are such a baby."
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"I'm a baby? Me? Says the priss that won't eat his beetles!" Cyrus shot back with a glower. "Which, by the way, ya best get used to 'cause you're gonna be eatin' a lot of those."
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"Hey, I ate your disgusting bug Amadori. And just what are you willing to do to prove you're not terrified of anyone with telekinesis?" As he said it, he swept a brush of telekinesis up Cyrus's back.
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Cyrus let out a rather undignified squeal and spun around to face...open air. He whirled back around to glare at Temple and raised his hands, fingers clutching as though wanting to either strangle him or just cringe. "Didn't I tell ya to stop that?! Stop that! I ain't scared it's just creepy as shit!"
He crossed his arms over his chest. "'Sides, ain't exactly like ya strike fear into the hearts of no one. Maybe the old folk ya get your sweaters from."
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Temple shot to his feet and got into Cyrus's face. If Cyrus wanted to constantly insult him that was fine. He just had better be ready to deal with the consequences. Cyrus's problem was he'd gotten too used to people backing down because they were afraid of him. Well he could yell at Temple all day and it wouldn't do a bit of difference.
"For not being afraid you sure squealed like a little girl just now."
They were drawing stares, not just from others in the noodle joint but from people passing by on the street as well.
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'''Cause there's such a thing as personal space and I count psychic freakiness as invadin' it! Stop touchin' me!" Cyrus snapped back, giving Temple a shove.
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Temple couldn't go shoving Cyrus—the physics of it weren't on his side—so he stepped up to him so they were inches apart and got up in his face again. He didn't back down, not for anything. Pity he couldn't go all out here, but he had a feeling Harmony would put an end to him if he used obvious telekinesis in public.
"Keep your hands off me, Amadori."
They had a genuine audience now, but no one made a move to stop them yet. Possibly because they wanted to see it, possibly because some of them recognized Cyrus and didn't want to interfere with a military man. Temple was too preoccupied to look into their minds and find out just then.
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"Don't like that, d'ya? Keep my hands off ya, huh?" Cyrus gave him another push, not backing down and not caring that Temple was in his face. Little womanly punk like him didn't scare him.
People were watching, but he didn't give a fuck right then. He'd had it! "Then why don'tcha start keepin' your...your...tentacles off me? Huh?" Another shove.
-
A little warning voice inside Temple cautioned him. If he got any more angry he'd do something they'd both regret. Be real careful here, Rosales. There's very little stopping him from killing you.
One of them had to stay in control here. Please gods, let it be him.
"Yeah, that's what I said, and you can shove me all you want, 'cause I didn't do shit wrong. If you weren't such a chickenshit maybe it wouldn't scare you so much."
-
As much as it killed him to admit it, Temple did have him there--technically, the little shit hadn't done anything wrong but be annoying and difficult, and thus far there was no law against that. He scowled at Temple and, just because he could, shoved his shoulder one last time, though it wasn't as hard as the last few.
"Listen, punk. Ya should be respectin' peoples' boundaries and shit. Ya don't like being pushed, well I don't like being felt up by your little 'invisible hands'!" he snapped, holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers to drive home his point. "So stop touchin' me, ya brat. It don't scare me, it's just creepy!"
And he'd squealed like a girl. But dammit, he would justify that to the death. "Gods! I feed ya and lookit how ya treat me."
-
"Oh, like you respect mine? You bait me and you know it, so stop crying about it when I give it back to you." If Cyrus couldn't handle retaliation—an extremely mild one at that—then he should keep his snide little comments to himself. He'd be damned if let Cyrus try to tell him he should be respecting people.
"And you only brought me here 'cause you knew I wouldn't like your cave food, so don't even try and give me this charity bullshit."
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"The hell ya talkin' about?" Cyrus asked, raising an eyebrow. "Cave food? Uh, yeaaah? Ya realize where we live? Underground?" Cyrus really didn't see the point Temple was trying to make. Everyone ate the same stuff here. What else was Temple expecting to eat?
Though, yeah, he really had wanted to see the ickle outsider eat their particular cuisine for the first time.
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He leveled a flat look at Cyrus. "I would call some of your quote food unquote more edible than others. You brought me here to see if I'd gag on your beetles."
He became aware of every eye in the noodle stand and on the street watching them. He'd been aware of it before, just hadn't cared with Cyrus yelling at him. Even the guy behind the counter was leaning over like they were some show.
They all knew he was an outsider now. They all wondered, and speculated.
Temple brushed past Cyrus and pulled him with him by the arm. "Let's go already."
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"Hey, ya gotta get used to 'em eventually. Good source of protein! 'Sides," Cyrus said with a grin, leaning over conspiratorially, "they're mashed up in most of what ya've already eaten."
Okay, so they were usually eaten whole, and he didn't really know that, but he couldn't help himself.
While Temple was aware of their spectators, Cyrus really wasn't. Sure he noticed it, but it didn't weigh on him in the same way, nor click in the same way. For him, it was just because they'd been rowdy and hey, big deal. So when Temple suddenly grabbed his arm and was on the move, he startled.
"Huh?" He jerked his arm free. "Who lit a fire under your ass alluva sudden?"
-
Gods the man was thick. Temple spun and thew his voice low. "I said let's go. There are too many people here wondering where the hell I came from and wondering just what you were talking about so plainly in public."
Among the conditions to his continued existence were that no one knew they had a Pilot in the city. He was not seeing that condition broken because Cyrus stupidly opened his mouth where he shouldn't have.
-
"Oh."
Realization dawned and Cyrus's expression sobered as the weight of the situation sank in. Sure, weeks ago, Cyrus may have lamented not shooting Temple when he had the chance to save them all that wreck of a situation, but now? Like it or not, his opinions on Temple aside, the kid was his responsibility and if he died now, it was on his head. Things had sort of changed. Kid was a fucking brat, but he was no longer just a faceless, nameless Pilot. Dangerous as fuck still, but he couldn't in good conscience pull the trigger on him now when he hadn't yet done anything to warrant it.
Couldn't in good conscience let others take him out, either. And really, he wasn't so bad. Punkass kid, sure, but there were a lot of those around and you didn't go around putting them down just for being a dick.
And okay, so that meal had been almost alright, even. Tolerable.
He turned and shot the spectators a smoldering glare. "The fuck y'all lookin' at? Mind your own fuckin' business and eat your goddamn noodles, will ya?"
That said, he nudged Temple and nodded, then started off away from the noodle stand.
-
Temple maintained his mask of cold indifference until they were out of sight, then rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He was psychic, and even he didn't know why the hell Cyrus thought that was a good idea.
"Smooth, Amadori. Over-defensiveness will surely convince everyone there was nothing noteworthy there to concern themselves with."
He supposed he should be grateful to have Cyrus's temper directed at someone else for a change. It was a momentary and subtle shift, but for a few moments it had been he and Cyrus against others instead of against each other.
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"Oh, wouldja just shut up," Cyrus growled. "Does nothin' please you or what? Goddamn you're finicky as a girl, do this and do that but not like that, damn. And excuse me but who thought it was a good idea to start like...psychic-powering bugs into the air?" he added, waving his hands to demonstrate.
As soon as he said it, his eyes went wide and he gave a quick glance around the area, suddenly very conscious (if a little too late) of mentioning that word out loud. Fortunately, he'd lead them to a rather vacant area, but he still gave a slightly guilty wince. Right. Alright. So the kid had a point. He had to stop doing that, but--
He pointed at Temple. "Ya want me to be smooth, ya stop with the freakshow, yeah?"
-
Temple stopped and leveled a flat look at Cyrus. He cast out a quick scan of the area—not with his eyes. They were alone, this time, but he suspected the whole of Teinar would find out the military was keeping a Pilot alive through Cyrus's drunken bar proclamations some night.
He stepped closer. He made a challenge of it. Whatever he may have been before he hit his head, the him now didn't run from anything. If he'd gone through his whole life like this, it was a wonder people like Cyrus hadn't killed him yet.
"I'll stop with the freakshow when you stop antagonizing me."
For good measure, he added, "Violet."
-
"And I'll stop antagonizing you when ya--"
Cyrus cut off. It took him a second or two to process that the 'Violet' had been directed at him. In their last little argument, he'd sort of blessedly forgotten Temple's epiphany and had kind of been hoping he'd forgotten, too.
His face heated and he averted his eyes to try to hide them. Goddammit! He'd never be able to look the kid in the eye again now, fuckin' punkass.
"Ya can't use that word," he growled. "Doesn't work for me."
-
"Oh really? Funny. It works for me. Violet."
He wouldn't even be saying it as much if it didn't bother Cyrus so. That, and telling him he couldn't use it made him all the more determined to tag it on to the end of every sentence that left his mouth.
-
"No, no, no! Y'see, it doesn't work 'cause it's my name for you and ya can't just go divorcin' it from it's original...uh..." Cyrus blinked, not quite sure where he'd been going with that. He soldiered on.
"Ya can't just go using your nickname on someone else! It ain't right. And violet's a flower, like pansy, and I ain't a pansy. You're the pansy...pansy."
-
Temple nodded along, like it was fascinating, like Cyrus was making valid and intelligent points. Sometimes he got the feeling Cyrus called him things like pansy out of nothing more than principle. An odd principle, but it still came out without any weight behind it.
"I'm learning so much from you, Violet. Tell me more."
-
Cyrus was more than willing to tell him more. His scowl deepened, fingers twitching with genuine annoyance. He had the feeling he was being mocked but wasn't really sure, exactly, what about. He was serious, here!
"There ya go again! Now you're just bein' a fuckin' punk! What? Ain't creative enough to make up your own names so gotta go and steal mine?"
-
He stayed calm, because he had a feeling that would only goad Cyrus further into a fit. "That is absolutely right. I can't think of anything else, so I'll just have to stick with Violet, Violet."
-
Cyrus let out a string of unintelligible curses and threw his hands into the air. "God-motherfucking-dammit! No fuckin' wonder the other Pil--"
He clipped his words off just in time and shot a paranoid glance around the place. There was still no one around, but that sobered him a little so he lowered his voice. "Uh, piles of shit. Yeah. Was goin' somewhere with that just then. Probably that ya are one. Point being, fine. Fine. I get it. I see what you're doin' here and it's stupid."
-
He stepped closer to hear. They were out in the open now, buildings on either side of them but with the roof of the cavern stretching up overhead, too far and too optically confusing for Temple to even judge its distance from him. It seemed to suck up sound when you weren't yelling.
"I seriously doubt that." He doubted that Cyrus "got" much of anything about him. "Violet," he added. He would get tired of that eventually, but not just yet. Some part of him—and it must be a reckless part that craved death—wanted to see just how far he could push Cyrus. There was a limit to this somewhere, and it would be handy to know where it was, but he was finding that Cyrus managed to surprise him often with some unexpected self-restraint.
-
Cyrus grit his teeth and took a deep breath, because his first impulse had been to belt Temple one good and the kid was seriously starting to try his patience. It was like a little kid who had just discovered the word "why", only in this case it was a stupid, stupid nickname. But just like you couldn't really smack a kid across the mouth for being an annoying little twat, he couldn't, in good conscience, start wailing on Temple just for being a dipshit.
As satisfying as that would be.
He did allow him a couple seconds to fantasize, a couple seconds to rein in the urge, before he ground out, "Ya havin' fun yet?"
-
He had a fun time trailing along with Cyrus's train of thought. It was almost impressive how he managed to restrain himself when he wanted so badly to clobber Temple then and there.
"Yeah, Violet, I am. Isn't that something." The really remarkable thing was that it was true. Today hadn't been terrible, and he hadn't thought about how much he'd rather be elsewhere in...hours at least. He'd forgotten he was supposed to be trying to get out of here.
-
Cyrus shot Temple a death-glare that slowly turned into a smile. If flashing grit teeth could be called smiling. What was it Harmony had called him? Oh, yeah. Right.
Cyrus shrugged. "Whatever ya say, Princess. Anyway, we probably oughta be headin' back," he said, finally noticing where they were. In the distance, a section of tunnel had been blocked off and he recognized it as leading to the area that the earthquake and creatures had ravaged. He'd been there when shit had hit the fan and while everything was mostly taken care of, the area had been evacuated and closed off to anyone but hunters and the like.
"Shouldn't be hangin' 'round here."
-
So Princess was catching on as a name. Just super.
"Why?" He followed Cyrus's eyes off to a barricaded tunnel, and only just then realized how deserted this area was that they'd wandered into. He could have read the answer in Cyrus's mind, but it might have surprised the soldier to know that psychics didn't listen in all the time, for a lot of reasons. One of them was the need for actual conversation, the give and take of talking with another person instead of just knowing everything.
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"'Cause we just shouldn't. Ain't safe," Cyrus said and shouldered Temple as he moved past him in the opposite direction before pausing and giving the guy an odd look, eyebrow cocked.
"What? Ya mean ya don't...know?"
-
Temple gave Cyrus a shove as he jostled him, but he stayed where he was, eyes on the barricade. His interest was what lay beyond, the structures and landscape torn by the earthquake. Someone needing to get out of Teinar could make use of a place like that.
"What, the earthquake? The incursions and the structural damage right? What, are you saying Teinar's fine soldiers haven't gotten this place secure yet?"
He still had not moved, looking back at the tunnel, considering.
-
"No, dipshit. I'm sayin' it ain't...stable yet. Not over there. We're fine on this side, Violet, but there's still some critters runnin' around--"
Cyrus paused when he realized Temple wasn't following along and turned to face him, one hand on his hip. "Violet? Ya comin' or what?"
-
Temple's eyes fell to the shackle on his wrist.
"Looks like I am."
If it weren't for that shackle and it's ability to kill him instantly, he'd have made a play for freedom a long time ago. He would have risked the tunnel.
"You sure there's none of your...critters around here?" He quite hated Teinar and its utterly patternless arrangement. You couldn't see anything. Blind spots above, below, around every corner. Overpasses, underpasses, walkways that opened up over a void one minute and found themselves crisscrossed by arcing ledges the next.
-
Cyrus slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. The way Temple had been looking down that tunnel, with eyes only for it--that was the look guys got before they bolted for it and for a second there he'd thought, maybe, the guy was crazy enough to do it. Of course, he wouldn't have gotten far; not only because of the shackle, but because of the elements.
He may be a Pilot, he may be able to fend off hordes of nasties, but he wasn't going to get far without clean water and breathing toxic air.
Cyrus gave a small shrug. "Yeah, positive. Me and the others, we put 'em all down. They never got this far. Over there, though? Well, might be a straggler or two, but the earthquake, it made everything all unstable. Gotta worry more 'bout the place cavin' in. It's all--"
He cut off. A sound caught his ear, the sound of shifting rubble from somewhere beyond the tunnel. Cyrus froze. It could be anything; it was unstable so the ground and piles of crap were still shifting and settling, but it was sometimes hard to tell if that's all it was--or if it was something more deadly.
-
Temple heard it too. Felt it, even, in the soles of his feet and up into his legs. The trembling of earth. He was suddenly aware of all the solid rock suspended above him. For something so immense, this cavern could mighty delicate under the right circumstances.
He picked up on Cyrus's thoughts. "Was that a quake, or...?"
-
The sound was growing and the tremors, too, and it struck Cyrus abruptly--but far too late--that this wasn't just earth settling; it was the sound you heard just before a quake.
By the time the thought struck, the earth was shaking in earnest, rolling beneath their feet--not a large shaker, not enough to knock you off your feet, but enough that the already unstable ceiling above began to rain down chunks of rock and dust. Cyrus let out a curse and gave Temple a hard shove. "Whatcha think, fool? Go!"
-
"Go where?" In the space of moments, the clear path to the city proper disappeared from view. Chunks of rock crashed down, formed a hazardous maze between them and the way out. Temple ran after Cyrus—or tried to run, with the earth pitching beneath his feet. Dust rose up in every direction until he could no longer tell where they were going. He could only keep close and hope Cyrus knew how to get them to safety.
-
There came a point where they just couldn't run anymore. Dust rose up in billowing clouds, obscuring his vision, and he heard things crashing around them, and at that point it would be more hazardous to keep moving than to stay in one place because there was no telling what you'd run into. And if things went shitty, even a twisted ankle would be a liability. Hell, they shouldn't have been running while the ground was moving to begin with, but with an unstable ceiling, he wanted to be well away from that.
Hopefully they'd gotten far enough.
Reaching out to where Cyrus thought Temple was, because he'd heard his voice in that direction, his hand brushed cloth--Temple's shirt? His arm? Fuck if he knew--and then tightened in it.
"Too late. Get down," he barked as he dropped into a crouch and pulled Temple down with him. He covered his head with one arm and his nose with his shirt. "Just cover your head and wait."
The quake didn't last all that long in reality, though it felt like it. It lasted all of maybe half a minute. Finally, the tremors subsided and with it came an eerie silence punctuated only the sounds of small rocks and debris hitting the ground, and it was only when it had stopped completely that Cyrus uncovered his head and looked around.
Still couldn't see nothing. Too much dust.
He shook dirt from his hair and turned in Temple's direction. "Y'alright?"
-
Temple was pulled down nearly on top of Cyrus, who was yelling something he couldn't hear over the crashing and splitting of stone around them. Cyrus dropped down, but Temple did the opposite. He raised up on his knees, covered his nose and mouth with his arm, and looked straight up.
There he stayed until the world stilled again and Cyrus rose up.
"Fine." His limbs trembled. He stared upward at a chunk of stone the size of a bus, floating just above their heads upon a cushion of telekinesis. He eased it over, inch by inch, to lay it upon the ground a few feet away from them.
The breath sighed out of him and he sagged down to the ground to sit on his heels. It hadn't been that heavy, once he'd stopped its fall, but the possibility of what could have happened shook him up.
-
"The FUCK?!"
Cyrus had been oblivious to the huge-ass chunk of floaty rock until he saw it float down from the sky and land with a gentle thump beside them. He scrambled back away from it as though it were contaminated by some flesh-eating disease and nearly stumbled back to the ground, and then, when he was a healthy ten feet away from the thing, he turned his attention back to Temple.
"What the fuck was that?!" he demanded, shaken--by what could have happened, the earthquake, that he hadn't realized they were about to be crushed beneath a boulder...and by the sheer raw power of Temple's crazy psychic voodoo.
He knew he was a Pilot. He knew Pilots were badass. He knew Pilots could do freaky-deaky shit with their brains. He hadn't quite realized just how freaky. Like, that they could lift bus-sized objects and make them float. And if he could do that using his mind to a hunk of solid rock, what could he do to a squishy human body?
His mind raced, conflicted. On the one hand, he was relieved. Even he could acknowledge that they would have been ground meat if not for the intervention. On the other, he was also quite aware of how alone they were.
-
"You're welcome." He was too shaken even to taunt Cyrus for being afraid of him. And that was new, that wariness. Cyrus had never trusted him, but he'd never faced down the reality of Temple's psionics before. Far from satisfying, it was a huge step backward. Cyrus needed to think him ineffectual, unworthy of attention or caution.
Even as Temple got to his feet, a small rumble shook through the ground then dissipated a moment later. He froze.
"Is that another one?" He was compelled to speak in a whisper, as though the simple sound of his voice would draw out another quake. He kept one eye on the ceiling above.
-
For once, Cyrus had no snarly, angry reply for Temple as he struggled to work out his thoughts and feelings on the issue.
Fortunately, and unfortunately, he didn't have long to think on it.
The ground rumbled and Cyrus froze and tensed, ready to move again if needed; aftershocks were nothing to be taken lightly, as this one had proven. Then a chill went through him when he realized this was different; only the ground was trembling. No fresh debris was being shaken loose from the ceiling. The walls weren't shaking. There was no ominous warning rumble.
"Fuck, no, it's--"
The ground near Temple's feet cracked and split at that and a chitinous head thrust through the opening, mandibles large enough to take off a man's head snapping. The creature was the size of a mastiff with large, badger-like claws, just as capable of slicing through flesh and bone as they were earth and rock. It let out a high pitched screech and swiped at Temple, drawn to him by scent alone as the creature lacked eyes entirely.
-
Temple was looking up, intent on the ceiling. He didn't realize what a mistake that was until the thing burst through the ground and took a swipe at him. A well-aimed swipe. Temple jumped back, but not quick enough. It tore a gash in his leg even as two boulders of telekinesis smashed its head in between them. Some thick, chunky fluid splattered everywhere, even got Cyrus a few feet away.
The ground bulged up in different places all around them. Temple scrambled to his feet and ran to Cyrus, put their backs together. He estimated no fewer than half a dozen in his vision alone, scrambling up from the ground. And how many still below them? How many directly below?
"What do we do?" Fight, or flee. He didn't know the first thing about this enemy, and didn't have time to go digging around in Cyrus's head to figure out what their chances were if they stood their ground.
-
Cyrus drew his gun, but before he could fire off a round the bug had already gotten smashed. Globs of warm insect brain plopped against his cheek and neck--a familiar sensation--but Cyrus had no time to feel horror at the use of telekinesis; all his horror was currently being used up on the fact that the place was now teeming with bugs. These things were supposed to have been dealt with!
And one had already gotten Temple.
He covered the Pilot as he ran to him, taking out one the creatures nearest to them. Killing them wasn't necessarily a problem; he'd dealt with enough of these things before to know where the weak points were, and most times it only took one or two shots in the head to stop one if you aimed just so. It was the numbers that were the problem.
And the limited ammo.
And considering the number already surfaced plus the ones still clawing from below? Fuck. There were far more of them than Cyrus had bullets.
Another head broke through the surface near his feet and Cyrus pushed back against Temple to get out of the way. "We get the hell outta here," he answered, and started looking for an opening. There was no good one, and it was still hard to see too far ahead; the damned bugs were only tossing up more dust.
But he had a mental map of the place, at least, and they just had to hope the opening wasn't completely blocked.
And also hope it was, otherwise these things would be getting out.
"Ya gonna manage with that leg? 'Cause you're gonna have to. Count of three, we clear a path to your right and book it, got it?"
It was as good as giving permission without having to actually say the words.
-
There were so many. If he had faunapathy, he'd be able to feel every stark insect mind out there right now. Dozens clawed their way up, now, and a steady shifting beneath his feet suggested an unknowable number of more below.
Some of them were close, only feet away. He held back, pressed away from them without attacking. His energy was finite, and so too was his telekinesis.
"To my right, on three," he confirmed. "I'll make it."
He hadn't even noticed his leg until Cyrus mentioned it. It gushed blood, but he didn't feel it, save in some back corner of his mind that bore no importance now. More importantly, he could run on it.
-
The insect right at his feet was struggling to break free but was having difficulty getting the rest of its body through the hard surface. It snapped at air and scrabbled determinedly, and its sharp claws were slowly but surely tearing a bigger hole in the earth. It wouldn't be long.
It was an effort not to be distracted by them all, to focus on what they needed to do and ignore what was so dangerously close.
"Good. Alright." Cyrus took a deep breath and cleared his head; the creature was thrusting its shoulders against the earth, the ground cracking from the force. He didn't know how bad Temple was hurt, just that it was bloody and those claws were neither sterile nor nothing to laugh at, but they'd just have to deal with it later.
"One...two...three, go!"
He broke off from Temple and took off at a run, firing several rounds into the creatures blocking their path and not stopping to see if they were dead before he kicked them aside. Fortunately, the insects were thinner in numbers this way.
Unfortunately, they were attracted to sound and movement and the ones they left behind were now skittering after them.
-
Temple pressed back against Cyrus. He warred with the instinct to lash out and obliterate every bug in his view. The trouble lay in those not in his view, and what would he have left to fight with if he wasted his energy on needless attacks made in panic?
He sprang away when Cyrus reached three. The leg didn't slow him down—he was right behind. Cyrus took the point, Temple their flanks. He saw the same problem Cyrus had. The path ahead lay clear enough to break through, but the bugs streamed toward them from the sides.
The foremost never reached them. The bugs met a wave of telekinesis that rolled them back into the ones behind and slammed down to crush them into the ground. First one side, then the other.
He had to trust that Cyrus had the front. That left their pursuers and the swarm below, in the earth beneath their feet.
-
Cyrus didn't look back. Not only did he trust Temple to handle things, and not only did he need to keep focused, but he really didn't want to shit himself seeing what Violet was doing. He could hear it. That was enough.
There was just one more insect ahead of them, and two shots to the head left it twitching but harmless. Cyrus poured on an extra burst of speed, then, dodging around some of the larger chunks of fallen rock, and promptly felt his heart sink lower the closer to the exit they got.
Through the settling dust, he could make out a large pile of rubble, some chunks as large and larger than the one Temple had caught.
Just his luck. It was blocking the way out.
"Fuckin' of course!" he groaned, and now that he was standing still he could feel the little tremors coursing through the ground, the sensation of too many insects above and below. Shit, shit, shit! Best not to think of it, best not to look back even though he wanted to. "Can ya move this?"
Because if he couldn't, they were stuck here.
-
"If you cover me." It would take a minute or two, he realized, as he drew closer to the rock pile. Not only would he have to move massive chunks of stone, but he'd have to stop the smaller boulders from burying them in the process.
No time for questioning now. He could only trust Cyrus to keep the insects at bay. He put those smaller boulders to good use, flung them off of the heap and backwards at the swarm descending upon them. Then came the hard part, the part that needed concentration, the part that was made all the more difficult by not knowing how close the bugs were behind him.
Temple clamped a vice of telekinesis about one of the massive stones and heaved it upward. Dust and rocks rained down over their heads as he moved it. It was larger than the one he'd caught before, and sweat beaded on his forehead. This was nearing his limit.
-
"Just do what ya gotta do; I got ya," Cyrus said, and turned to face the swarm.
It was a chilling sight. He'd faced numbers like this before, but that had been with an entire team, and in cases like these, numbers won. Fighting to keep his fear at bay, keeping his body relaxed and his breathing controlled, Cyrus took aim and started firing, finished off that magazine and had to pause to load another. He had to do it all calmly, steadily, and it felt like going in slow motion; couldn't rush or he'd fumble and then they'd be fucked, because every second counted. Then, finished, he started firing again, waiting for them to draw close before picking off the ones nearest to them in a vain attempt at conserving ammo.
Because he was nearly out, and once he was, there wouldn't be much he could do. They could run, maybe find a building to hole up in, but they'd have to hope the creatures didn't get there first.
"Gonna need ya to work a bit faster there, Violet!" Cyrus shouted as one of the insects got close enough to splatter blood and chunks of carapace all over him when he shot it.
More live insects had quickly replaced the ones that had been shot or crushed by rock, scrabbling over crushed bodies and boulders. Soon, not even the bullets he had left would matter; he wouldn't be able to keep them off of them.
-
"Shut up," Temple ground out. He knew what crawled toward him from behind, what approached that he could not see. Cyrus reminding him of it didn't help. It only shook his concentration.
He let the one immense stone block fall once it was clear. It shook the ground and tossed up dust. Too reckless now, a razor's edge of panic scrabbling at his calm, he grab hold of the second block and heaved it upward. His breath came hard, ragged. He forced himself not to look into Cyrus's mind to find out how much ammo he had left.
It was almost there. Cyrus's gun shots came faster—they were closing in. Just a little further.
As soon as he knew it wouldn't roll back to hit them, he dropped the other where it was. "It's open!"
-
As soon as Temple gave the word, Cyrus fled, pausing only to put a bullet in the torso of one too close to outrun. It didn't kill it, but it slowed it, and that was all he needed because he only had three bullets left. Better make them count.
"Go!" Cyrus shouted and shoved Temple in front of him and toward the opening.
-
Temple bolted without ever looking behind him. Whatever was back there he didn't want to see it. He felt that to see it might give his panic the force it needed to overtake his reason and his responsiveness.
He was already out of breath from the exertion of moving those slabs of rock. His speed flagged before they'd even covered a hundred feet of distance. He fell even with Cyrus, then behind.
-
Cyrus scrabbled through the opening after Temple and was so intent on getting the fuck outta there that the other problem didn't occur to him until after he was through it.
A rather big problem that probably should have struck him sooner:
Plugging the hole back up.
Cyrus realized their mistake as soon as they were through, had an "oh shit!" moment when he heard the creatures clawing their way through the opening and after them, but he didn't look back. That would only slow him, maybe make him falter in fear, and they could afford no mistakes now.
The insects poured after them through the blockade and out into Teinar.
Panting, running as hard as he could, wanting to shout out a warning but having no breath to waste, Cyrus was so focused on the path ahead of him that he only noticed Temple had flagged when he glanced beside him and saw empty space.
Shit!
That was when he looked back.
"Temple!"
The creatures were hot on their trail, and one was closing in on the Pilot, mandibles open and ready to crush whatever flesh it could grab. Without even thinking, Cyrus aimed and fired into the thing, stunning it enough to back off, but not enough to kill it. Two bullets left.
"Temple, c'mon!" he barked, and backtracked just enough so he could grab the man's arm and haul him along.
It didn't even occur to him how easy it would have been to just leave him, to let the beasts have him and correct what, not long ago, he'd considered a great mistake.
-
Temple's legs burned. He willed them to move faster but there was nothing left in them to give. Cyrus drew away, and the frantic scrabbling of dozens of subterranean insects closed in behind him.
He expected to feel mandibles close into his flesh, but instead he watched as Cyrus skidded to a halt. Turned, aimed. For an instant, he thought Cyrus meant to shoot him. Then the whistle of a bullet swept by his face and into an insect behind him. Cyrus hauled him on.
To their right, stairs led up to building with solid metal doors. Ahead, the road opened up and the lights vehicles—probably military—glinted through the dust. They were so far away, possibly too far for them to make it. And to the right, a row of parked motorcycles, maybe with keys, maybe not. Risky no matter which way Cyrus took them.
-
They didn't have long. The insects were faster so whatever decision he made now, he knew it would either save them or kill them--but inaction would kill them, too. Frantic and never slowing in his step, he swept his gaze back and forth, taking in his options and making a snap decision. The doors were a no-go; if those doors were locked, they'd be trapped. The military vehicles were too far away. The motorcycles...
If the motorcycles didn't work, at least they wouldn't be totally cut off. At least they could try to get away. He knew going for them would mean if it didn't work out it was game over, but at the very least they could go down struggling rather than cornered and trapped.
He didn't say a word, just jerked on Temple's arm and yanked him to the right. One of them had to have a key. One person had to be negligent. Just one. C'mooon!
The first five had none and Cyrus was beginning to think this was it, it was over, and he could hear the bugs scrabbling closer, but then a flash of silver caught his eye. There, danging from the ignition, were a set of keys, like it was just waiting for them.
He'd have to thank the driver later.
He wasted no time. Pulling Temple over, he threw a leg over the bike, kicked the kickstand back, and turned the key. Thank gods it was a double-seater. Thank gods Motorail was so damned popular. "Get on!"
-
Cyrus didn't have to encourage him. Temple saw him veer suddenly for one of the bikes and he didn't waste a second. He leaped on right behind Cyrus and grasped the front of his shirt in one hand.
"Can they catch us on this?"
-
"We'll see," Cyrus answered, and as soon as he felt Temple latch on, the motorcycle took off with a roar, tires screeching as he made a sharp turn and headed for the road.
It was lucky he had experience driving these things. Lucky that back when he'd been younger, he'd wanted to get into Motorail and had dicked around with his own cheap motorcycle--until he'd crashed the thing trying to perform a stupid stunt, and thus had ended his Motorail dreams. Well, there would be no stunts today, that was for sure.
He could no longer hear the insects over the engine and the rush of wind in his ears, and he didn't dare look back while driving. "How's it look back there?" he shouted over the noise, taking a turn and then pulling onto a straightaway.
They couldn't just run around aimlessly and they couldn't just head into the thick of Teinar, not with those things, and not with a fuel gauge just under half a tank. He had to plan this thing out, get them to the nearest hunter outfit. Making another sudden turn (damn he was out of practice) he headed off the road and onto a bumpy dirt one that shot into a tunnel lit by luminescent moss.
It was a shortcut, if he remembered right.
He hoped.
-
Where the hell were they going? This dirt road looked more like a cave, more like it was taking them away from civilization—such as it was in Teinar—than toward it. Cyrus had better know where they were going to end up.
He had to yell into Cyrus's ear over the roar of wind and bike. "They're falling back—"
Stalking movement above and to the sides caught his attention as they flew past. They were on the ledges to either side of them.
"We're being flanked. Give me a gun."
-
Shit. Cyrus didn't dare look back, didn't dare take his eyes off the "road" to see where the things were. It would just be all kinds of lovely if they got this far, went through all that, only to die in a bloody motorcycle crash.
"You're gonna have to grab it, Princess," Cyrus shouted back. Without taking his eyes off the tunnel, he jerked his head toward where his gun was holstered at his hip. "Kinda busy here."
There was a light at the end of the tunnel--literally. As they turned a corner, Cyrus could see it, but couldn't tell what it opened out into. With any luck, he'd picked correctly. This had to be the way.
He only wished he had some means of radioing ahead. This was going to be messy...
-
Temple had the gun in hand before Cyrus finished the sentence. Amazing that even here and now, Cyrus still managed to find the wherewithal to call him disparaging names. He probably didn't even realize he'd done it.
Two bullets left. They had to count.
Ahead, a swarm of the bugs clustered on an overhang, in a perfect position to leap on them as they passed. A cluster of electrical wire ran above them.
Temple aimed and took his shot. The wires severed in a shower of sparks, and the insects writhed, missed their chance. The bike shot beneath the overhang and left them behind.
One bullet left.
-
He had to hand it to Violet--that was some excellent marksmanship.
Behind him, he heard the electric hiss and sizzle of the lines and prayed that would buy them enough time. But let Temple deal with that; his job right now was to keep them from crashing.
What felt like the world's longest tunnel in that moment finally came to an end, and they shot out of it and into an open cavern, one of the areas that wasn't part of the old lab and had rather been built into the earth itself. There were several large buildings about and a row of military vehicles, and Cyrus thanks the stars beyond that his hunch had been correct. They lay the hunter outfit; now they just had to see if anyone was home.
He drew the bike right up to the front door, screeched to a stop, and hopped down. "C'mon, Violet!" he snapped as he bounded for the steps, but it looked like the engine's roar had already attracted attention. The door swung open before he made it up two steps and a gray-haired woman who looked anything but frail, scarred and built as she was, stepped out to greet them.
"Cyrus, what on earth--what is he doing here?"
-
Temple leaped off the bike and sighted for anything behind them. He could have gotten a shot off at one of them, but they had one bullet left, and killing just one of them would make no difference. Best to save it for a tactical advantage.
"This place gonna have the ordnance to keep them out?"
'Cause the doors didn't look sturdy enough to keep them out, not these things that could burrow through hard packed dirt.
-
"Keep what out--" the woman started to say, but that was when the first insects poured into the cavern.
Cyrus shoulder-checked her back inside the building and grabbed Temple's arm, yanking him inside after them. He slammed the door shut behind them and locked it, what little good that would do.
"It's got the weapons, if that's whatcha mean. And the people. Maybe," he said, and already the woman had rushed off to alert the others and get suited up. "The other local outfits'll be alerted. We'll get backup. We'll be good now. These people, we dealt with the first wave a week back."
He paused then. "I hate to ask this, but ya got any juice left?"
Probably not. He'd looked exhausted and his leg looked bad, but man, they sure could use the edge.
-
Juice? It took him a confused moment to figure out what Cyrus meant.
"Maybe." He was tired, exhausted really, but not drained down to nothing. He nodded. "Yeah. Some. What did you have in mind? I can't move anymore boulders, but if I had a vantage point, a good view, there might be something I can do."
-
"A window? The roof? What kinda vantage point we talkin'?" Cyrus said, right as a group of five hunters arrived, the woman with them.
One of them tossed a box of ammo Cyrus's way, and he caught it out of the air. The lot of them were sporting firearms; there weren't many down in Teinar, but the hunter outfits had first dibs on the ones that were salvaged. It was the only good way to deal with a horde; melee weapons would be a last defense here.
The woman passed a fresh pistol to Cyrus. Time to party.
"Here," Cyrus said, and held the ammo out to Temple, and just in time, too. Because that was when the insects arrived and the doors buckled, but didn't yet collapse. as the first one struck home.
-
Temple took the ammo. He would've expected Cyrus to kick him off into a corner and tell him to keep his hands off any weapons, now they were in a better position.
"I'm going up." He bounded up the steps. Second floor windows too narrow, the field of view to limited. Up higher, and the third floor was the same. That left the roof. Made him more vulnerable, standing out in the open like this, in clear view of the predators, but he could do the most good up here.
Even a cursory view of the battlefield revealed what he had to do. He slammed down a funnel of telekinesis, wide away from the stronghold and narrowing toward the door. He was going to guide the animals into scope range. The funnel would keep them from attacking multiple weak points—windows, cracks in the building, other doors—but their people would still be able to shoot over the low walls of telekinesis from any vantage point in the house, even the first floor. It wouldn't even put the doors at risk any more than they already were. Only two or three of the beasts could attack the door at one time.
Now they just had to hope they had the time and firepower to stop them and drive them away.
-
Cyrus bounded up another floor and went out onto the balcony and set up in a position where he could defend the door. Another hunter joined him, and the others stayed behind to defend the place at ground level. There seemed to be so many of the things, even with their new numbers and replenished supplies, but they just had to hold out for now, just had to keep them at bay long enough for back-up to arrive.
Two insects clawed at the door and managed to tear a hole in it before Cyrus put them down, but other crawled over the bodies to replace them, filled only with the primal desire to attain the fresh meat inside. From below, he heard gunshots; someone else was defending the door from inside--which was good, because while he focused on the door, one of the creatures sprang, grabbed the railing of the balcony, and pulled itself up. It never got onto the balcony, though; his partner put a bullet through its gaping mandibles and sent it tumbling.
It was bad, though, and Cyrus wasn't sure which would happen first: being overwhelmed or running out of ammo.
And that's when he heard it.
The roar of engines echoed through the cavern, and he caught a glimpse of the first military jeeps rolling in.
Thank fuckin' gods.
-
Temple opened fire and didn't let up. He picked off strategic targets—the ones who circumvented his telekinesis funnel and attacked the windows, the ones just in front of the door, the ones trying to scale the walls. He had good sight of the entire field from here. By unintended fortune, the dead ones in front of the door piled enough to keep others from getting at it.
By the time the jeeps pulled within range, the creatures had lost much of their focus and had taken to milling about in confusion, like ants that got their pile kicked. Temple finished the magazine, then descended to check out how the rest of them had fared.
He found Cyrus. "How we doing?"
-
"We're alright now." Cyrus let out a breath and wiped sweat from his brow, only now feeling the exhaustion--and the jitters. Funny how that worked, getting nervous after the danger was passed, but damn, that had been close. How many times had they nearly died in the last few hours?
"They're just pickin' off the survivors now. Haven't checked downstairs yet, but--ah."
He paused, motioned to Temple's leg with his gun. "How ya holdin' up, Violet?"
-
Temple gave him a blank look, then followed the movement of the gun with his eyes. Blood poured down his calf, stained his shoe dark and dripped onto the floor. He hadn't remembered it until now.
"It's not significant." He shrugged. It hurt like hell, now he had the time to stop and feel it, but it was a superficial pain. They hadn't severed any major tendons and he could still walk. If there was a danger from this, it was infection, and even that wasn't his immediate worry.
More important was the loaded gun in his hand and the military officials about to bear down on them. He offered the grip to Cyrus. "Thanks."
-
"Significant or not, you're still bleedin' all over. That's a bio-hazard, you know."
Cyrus took the gun and holstered it, eying Temple sidelong. He wouldn't say it, was having a hard enough time even thinking or admitting it, but Violet had earned some small measure of respect that day. He'd saved his life--their lives. And he hadn't fought like a total pussy after all. He was still girlish in Cyrus's eyes, still not trustworthy, and still not an equal--but now there was begrudging respect when before there had been none.
He shrugged uncomfortably and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, yeah. So you're not totally useless." He finally looked at Temple, eyes narrowed. "But don't you ever use your freaky fuckin' voodoo around me again, y'hear?"
-
Temple gave a glance about at the hunters around them. No one there could be bothered to listen to the two of them, but he stepped closer just the same, and his smile was full of mischief. He hadn't read a single thought out of Cyrus's head since this whole thing began, and he still didn't have to guess at what was going through his mind.
"And what if I have to save your life again? Stop anymore boulders from falling on you?" Considering where they lived, it wasn't an outrageous possibility.
-
Cyrus shot Temple a look, mouth set in a line. "There's exceptions, smartass."
-
"I'll be sure to only use my voodoo in last defense of your life." Temple couldn't help it. He felt smug, and looked it too. He'd given Cyrus more than one surprise, and even though they were square as far as saving each other's lives today, he'd never forget the look on Cyrus's face when he'd looked up and seen that slab of rock floating in midair.
The military team flowed into the building then, and a medical crew whisked Temple off to clean his leg up and stitch it closed. He lost track of Cyrus until they were done. Whoever was in charge must have pulled him into a corner for a debriefing.
-
When the debriefing ended, Cyrus detached himself from the other soldiers so he could seek out Temple, who had been taken into the building's small medical office. It was nothing fancy; they just had the basic first aid equipment to deal with minor wounds anyone might gain out scouting. Anything bigger and they'd have to transfer them to the hospital--which Temple was already quite familiar with.
He stepped inside in time to find the doctor fussing over applying the final touches to the bandage dressing Temple's newly stitched leg.
"Well, Violet," he said as he stepped inside. "Needless to say, ya don't gotta worry about being late to check back in. We made the necessary calls so you're good."
-
Cyrus reappeared, and it was a good thing because Temple had a very specific need, and he was going to require it to be taken care of pretty much immediately.
"Yes, I noticed I'm still alive." He hopped off the table he'd been seated on and rolled his pant leg back down—what was left of it. There was a long tear at the bottom where the bug's mandibles had sheared through.
"I need a shower." He was covered in...insect juice. So was Cyrus, now that he looked at him. "A real one, this place only has cold water."
The closest place was Cyrus's own home. He didn't think he stood a chance of getting in there, but he intended to push for it just the same. Getting back to the compound where Temple's cell was would take almost twice as long, and he wanted to get this stuff off of him as soon as possible.
-
Cyrus stared at Temple and it was only then, when it was pointed out and the adrenaline had worn off, that he felt the gross, viscous mess covering him. And not just felt, but smelled. It was thick and pungent, mixing with the smell of sweat and dirt in a most unpleasant way.
...Yeah. A shower would be pretty damned awesome right about now, and his muscles ached for a hot one. He let out a low sigh and rubbed his temples, finding them sticky, and weighed their options.
He needed to take Temple back.
But that was all the way on the other side of Teinar.
Now that it was over, he could feel the exhaustion, and the thought of going all that distance and then all the way back...ah, shit. He was too tired for this.
He let out a sigh. "Yeah, yeah, ya gotta primp, eh, princess? Alright. C'mon. Let's get outta here."
-
"Primp, do my hair, nails...you know how it is." A thick edge of weariness weighed down his words, flippant though they were. The same exhaustion seized his limbs and his head. Now the fight was over, all that adrenaline had left him in a crash.
He followed Cyrus out, immensely grateful for what he'd heard in the soldier's head. The stuff had now dried on them and made an audible crunch as they moved.
"Can we take the bike?" It wasn't even theirs, but he didn't really want to hitch a ride like this in onf of the military vehicles.
-
"Don't see why not," Cyrus said, grimacing as he walked. He wanted nothing more than to peel his clothes off and scrub his skin until it stopped feeling like bugs were crawling all over him. "We gotta return it anyway and I ain't in the mood to do it now. Don't see what an extra mile will hurt."
He bid the others goodbye and trudged his way out to where he'd left the bike, hopped on, and waited for Temple to seat up. "We're going to my place; it's closer. I'll take ya back in the mornin'. No funny business, ya hear?"
Before today, he wouldn't have wanted Temple anywhere near his place. But now, in his own way, he trusted him. Enough. If the guy wanted to off him or something, he could have done it a hundred times today and made it look like an accident. There shouldn't be much harm in this.
-
"Good. It'll be faster anyway." They may just get into a fist fight over who got the shower first, but at least they got to leave at all. The military detail was stuck here clearing out stragglers and pushing the swarm back past Teinar's barriers.
A lot of them gave he and Cyrus surreptitious looks as they waded past the piles of bug carcasses. Temple listened in on their thoughts and found them full of curiosity. Not much speculation, but plenty of questions, and they only spiked when Temple swung in on the bike behind Cyrus and wrapped his arms around the soldier's crusty, still slightly damp in places, foul-smelling torso.
"Just a shower," he agreed, though he didn't know what Cyrus even meant by funny business, and he was getting to where he preferred to deal with Cyrus on an honest level, no telepathy. Made it easier for Cyrus to trust him, and when Cyrus trusted him Temple's life was significantly easier.
-
Cyrus started up the bike and it roared to life. Alright. He wasn't gonna lie. Part of him just wanted to drive the bike a little longer--and drive it when he could actually enjoy it because there wasn't a horde of bloodthirsty insects on his tail. Sure, now he had a Pilot clinging to his middle in a way that felt awkward now (because he sure hadn't been paying attention to that detail earlier), but whatever.
The ride home was nice nonetheless. Nothing crazy happened, no near-death experiences, and they got there in one piece.
Parking the bike outside his modest one-bedroom, he made a beeline for the door. He unlocked it, flipped on the light, and waited for Temple to follow. "My house. I shower first," he said as he stepped inside.
The inside was surprisingly clean and minimalistic, though there were plenty of beer bottles in the kitchen. Truth be told, it wasn't that Cyrus was particularly organized so much as that Cyrus simply didn't spend enough time inside the place to dirty it up.
-
The bike provided one major relief as they sped through the city—with the air rushing past them, Temple couldn't smell their disgusting coating of bug guts.
"Fair enough," he said, though he made a face behind Cyrus's back, and not so much because he objected as because he would just have to wait that much longer to get this crap off him. He might have suggested they share—joking of course—but figured it might get him punched in the face.
Beyond those two words, he said nothing. Didn't want to distract Cyrus from getting in that shower as fast as possible. The quicker he was in, the quicker he'd be out, and the quicker Temple could have his turn.
While Cyrus was in the shower, Temple did peel of his shirt to at least relieve himself of one thing. It was too disgusting to leave anywhere in the house, even for the purpose of aggravating Cyrus, so he dropped it to the ground outside the door instead.
-
It wasn't a short shower. It took a while to scrub away the guts that were caked on his skin and coating his hair, and he cringed as he felt globs of the stuff roll off of him and had a brief thought of, "I guess the protein's good for your hair." Eugh. He opened the drain wider to make sure everything went down it, washed and rinsed his hair at least four times, and scrubbed his skin until it was a little sore.
When he was done, he stepped out into a steam-filled room, dried off, and tied the towel off around his waist. He gingerly lifted the trash bag he'd shoved his clothes and boots into. He wouldn't be wearing any of them ever again.
Stepping out of the room, steam streaming out after him, he chucked the trash bag outside, grabbed a second, and handed it off to Temple.
"There's a towel already in there. You can shove your shit in this. I'll grab ya something to wear--" He paused and blinked, eyes dropping to Temple's chest. "Huh. So ya don't got tits after all."
-
Temple was about to go bang on the door when Cyrus finally emerged in a cloud of steam. In response to the comment, he batted his long black lashes up at Cyrus. "Aw. Disappointed?"
He swayed like an open invitation as he walked away, and if it freaked Cyrus out then good. He retrieved the shirt, stuffed it in the bag, and brought it to the bathroom with him so he could chuck the rest of his clothes in it.
He called back to Cyrus. "I'm getting in now, just toss some clothes in."
Getting his pants off inevitably made the smell waft upward and all around him. Thank the gods Cyrus had a vent in this bathroom. Temple shed his clothes probably faster than he ever had in his life and was under the hot water in seconds. He dlosed his eyes and let the heat soak into his muscles for a time, thoughtful and in no rush to get out. He hadn't minded it, when Cyrus had looked him over like that. Hadn't even really minded the teasing, and when had he come to think of it as teasing instead of insulting?
It made sense. He spent more time with Cyrus than with anyone else. He was the closest thing Temple had to a friend, but he was more worried to find that in trying to get Cyrus to trust him, he had begun to likewise trust Cyrus.
-
Cyrus opened his mouth, then shut it and turned away quickly. "I'm gonna go find something that'll fit ya," he said in lieu of actually answering that first question, because there was no good answer to that one. If he said he was disappointed that he had no tits, it sounded an awful lot like saying he hoped he did because he'd be interested in him if he were a girl. If he said he wasn't disappointed, it sounded an awful lot like saying he was interested regardless. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but as Temple swayed away, that was the first conclusion he jumped to.
Better to avoid the bait at all and not think about how the answer that had been on the tip of his tongue was, "No."
He was too tired for this shit.
Cyrus headed into his room and rummaged through his closet, pulling out a worn pair of pants and a loose shirt for himself, and another set for Temple. He eyeballed the clothes and frowned. They'd probably be big on Violet; the guy was willowy like a girl. But they'd have to do and he'd just have to deal.
Heading back out, he knocked on the bathroom door before stepping inside. "I'm settin' your clothes on the counter," he called without looking.
-
Cyrus's voice startled him. He'd actually been drifting off right there on his feet.
"Fine," he said, and started scrubbing himself down. He scoured his skin and scrubbed his fingers along his scalp until it ached. He's remembered to close the trash bag with the clothes in it before getting in, so most of the smell was blessedly contained once he got out of the shower.
He wiped the condensation off the mirror to take a look at himself. Staring like that, he suddenly knew that he'd always regretted the way he looked, and that was new for him, that knowledge. It wasn't something he'd remembered before, but it was there now, as though it had always been there. His face was too feminine, and he'd always hated it. Dress him up right and he could pass for a girl easy. He had full black lashes, and the violet of his eyes was vivid, nearly luminescent they were so saturated. He looked at himself, fascinated with this new remembrance, but no more epiphanies were forthcoming.
He emerged much as Cyrus had done, in a billowing cloud of steam. The pants hung loose about his waist, very much in danger of falling off. "Hey. I need a belt."
-
Cyrus dressed as he waited for Temple and headed back out into the living room to wait, stretching out onto his couch. Just resting felt amazing right then and he couldn't pass up the temptation to close his eyes. It didn't matter that Temple was in his home; that he could cause trouble for him didn't even occur to him, hadn't really occurred to him for hours.
Whether he'd acknowledged it or not, something had begun to change between them and today had been yet another major turning point.
His eyes snapped open when he heard Temple's voice and he jerked upright, fought back a yawn. He'd nodded off--but he didn't want to admit it and so he did his best to look wide awake as he turned toward Temple even though he felt dead where he sat.
"A belt?" It took two seconds before that request made sense, and the fact that his pants were practically hanging off Violet's ass helped with that. He rubbed a hand over his face; that meant getting up and going back to his room. "Alright. Alright. You could be a little more polite about it, you know. Me lettin' ya under my roof and all."
With a grunt, he rose to his feet, grimaced as his muscles protested, and motioned for Temple to follow him. He dug a second belt out of the closet, held it out to Temple, and swept a glance over him. "This should work. Fuck, you're skinny. Don't tell me it's 'cause you're too precious to eat bugs."
-
He'd caught Cyrus napping on his couch. To borrow a word from the soldier himself, it was just precious.
About the belt, Cyrus did have a point, but coming from Cyrus it nearly negated itself. Since when did he believe in manners as a leading virtue? This was first Temple had heard of him extolling the necessity of being polite of all things.
Still, a point was a point, and when Temple accepted the belt, he reminded himself that Cyrus didn't have to do any of this. He could have brought him back to the compound, kicked him off the bike, and be done with him until tomorrow.
"Thanks," he said, mindful of everything Cyrus had done for him today, of all they'd done for each other. He went about getting the belt through the loops in his pants. Once again Cyrus looked him over, and once again he didn't mind the appraisal. "I'm pretty sure I've always been this way."
-
"Yeah right, ya don't remember shit, remember? Yet ya remember that? Whatever ya say, Violet."
With a yawn, he lead the way out of his bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Exhausted though he was, he wasn't tired enough not to feel hungry, and he was always hungry after combat. What could he say? Food was life-affirming. "Anyhow, dunno about you, but I could use some grub. You been eatin' well over there?"
-
"Can you really picture me big and burly?"
Because Temple sure couldn't. It wasn't just that he couldn't seem to bulk up, no matter how many strength exercises he did in his cell each day. He was built small.
"Uhh...define well? You've seen the gray, formless globs they serve in the compound's cafeteria. It's the same shit they give me. Honestly, those noodles were the best thing I've had in forever, bugs and all." Temple leaned on the counter top and took in the sight of Cyrus's kitchen. Beer bottles? Predictable. But clean besides that. Homey, even. Way more welcoming than the gray walls of his cell. "You gonna cook for me?"
-
Cyrus paused to look Temple over again, considering that question. He tried to picture it: Temple as a Manly Man, with a growth of facial hair and bulked up with broad shoulders and a muscular chest, defined abs, and thick arms and legs, his shirt stretched tight to the point of ripping and--
A shudder rippled through him and Cyrus shook his head. "Yeah, I can, and it ain't pretty," he relented. "Guess you're just made to be girly."
He went about clearing up space on the counters, moving aside the beer bottles. "Sure am, unless ya wanna cook instead," he said, and headed for the fridge.
Part of him realized how bizarre this whole situation was, how surreal; Temple inside him home, Temple using his shower, now cooking for the Pilot...and yet he couldn't be arsed to care. Whatever differences they had, the guy had flat-out saved his life, and he'd saved Temple's, and that put a lot of things into perspective. He might never be comfortable with his...abilities...b ut he'd come to view him less as a "them" and more as an "us".
And he'd slowly come to realize that he didn't actually hate his company.
He dug some wrapped up, frozen something out of his freezer and plopped it onto the counter. It vaguely resembled some sort of skinned animal leg that vaguely resembled a chicken-thigh, but could be anything--the spoils of his last hunting trip. "I'll even give ya somethin' that's not a bug, how's that?"
-
Temple posed with his arm flexed to help Cyrus out with the imagery. It had to be even more comical with Cyrus's oversized shirt hanging off him as it was. He shrugged at the final pronouncement. "I figured—hey! That's meat! Like from a real animal."
He could just feel his eyes light up. He didn't think he'd had actual meat since arriving here. It was all mashed fungus gruel and insects. Forget saving his life—this would endear Cyrus to him for life.
-
"Sure is," Cyrus said with a grin. "Killed, gutted, and skinned it myself."
He rinsed it off under tap water, then stuck it on a plate and placed it in the microwave to defrost. "It's hard to come by around here. Too much toxic shit. But I find if ya cook it just right, ya can't even taste the radiation."
-
"Wow. All of that, huh? That's so damn manly." Almost exaggeratedly so. Temple couldn't say for sure, but if he had to lay bets, he'd wager he couldn't do any of that—never could have, in fact.
"Whatever, I'll eat it, radiation and all." He tilted his head, then added. "You should teach me some of that."
-
That had Cyrus turning to look at Temple curiously, as though seeing him in a new light. That was probably the last thing he expected out of the kid's mouth. Ever. Temple was the sort of guy he figured went through life sitting around in plush rooms doing whatever frou-frou things Pilots did when they weren't blowing shit up.
"Ya mean hunting and shit?" he said. "Sure you'd be up to that? It ain't just about the killin', it's also dealin' with the offal. But if ya think ya can handle stickin' your hands up a creature's belly and pullin' out the guts and shit, sure!"
That would be amusing as hell to see. No few people lost their stomach, not just because it was guts, but because of the smell. That wasn't just a colloquialism when he said guts and shit.
-
There was a sort of filtering technique when deliberately shielding oneself from the thoughts of others that involved catching only those thoughts that concerned yourself. It was Temple's default state here lately, so he didn't become overwhelmed with noise and information. Cyrus's speculation on the habits of Pilots passed the filter, and Temple caught it. He had to hold back a laugh.
"Yeah. Why not? Seems useful, and I wont know how I am with it until I try it. And..." Temple sighed, shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it. I spend all day talking and explaining things and teaching techniques to the few psychics in Teinar. I'm restless. I need something more visceral."
-
"Ya mean visual? Uh, yeah, I guess that'd be that. Ha. And I gotta say, I'd love to see ya out in the field like that. See how a prissy thing like you takes to it."
The timer went off and Cyrus went about slicing the meat up into thin strips and starting up a pan to fry it all in, pouring in a good bit of oil. He motioned to the cupboard. "Grab me some of those spices," he said, and added an an afterthought, "If ya think ya can handle it. You Aedolians got weak stomachs."
-
"Sure. I'll wear my combat skirt."
Temple leaned forward and watched Cyrus go about the cooking. Like a lot of things, he had no idea about his own skills in preparing food. Nothing that he saw here exactly jogged any memories. If he got his hands on some food, he might know what to do with it, or he might not have a clue.
"Yeah? How many Aedolians you know besides me?"
-
Cyrus snorted. "I know one and that's enough," he said. "You're damned high maintenance."
He went about finishing up the meal and then served it onto separate plates--meat, some strange salad made up mostly of their staple mold mixed in with some other leafy plants and covered in some sort of sauce. A separate spicy sauce had been prepared in another pan and he ladled it generously over the meat. Grabbing two sets of chopsticks, he pushed Temple's plate over to him.
"Eat up." He nodded toward the couch. "Take a seat if ya want. I ain't got a table or anything. Ain't real fancy here."
-
"Your problem is you think anyone who wants to own more than two pairs of shirts is high maintenance." He put air quotes around the last two words.
He was about ready to pounce on that plate and eat it with his hands. The sauce smelled amazing and—of course—there was that inescapable cave mold again, but fuck if he cared. Temple took his plate to the couch was already shoveling food into his mouth as he sat down.
"Mm. F's goohd," he said around a mouthful of food.
-
Cyrus rolled his eyes and took a seat at the opposite end of the couch, plate settled on his knees. He'd barely gotten his first bite to his mouth before Temple was stuffing his face.
He arched an eyebrow, then laughed when Temple spoke. "Ah, so it meets her highness's approval, eh?" He took a bite of food to hide the pleased grin he felt tugging at his lips. Wasn't like he cared what the fuck Temple thought or anything, food was food and he had no choice but to eat it whether he liked it or not, because this was what he had to offer.
"Huh. Maybe there's hope for ya yet. Just slow down a little before ya choke, Violet. That'd be awkward to explain."
-
Temple stuffed his face until he had trouble chewing. Not very dignified, but this was the first time he'd had real food in months! He was with Cyrus, anyway, eating an unidentifiable slab of meet on an old couch, after having just washed giant bug guts out of his hair. Dignity had run for the hills a long time ago.
"Mmhmm." He waited until he'd gotten most of the food down before he attempted actual speech. "What do I have to do to get you to cook for me more often?"
-
Cyrus swallowed down a mouthful of food. "Ha, you're not thinkin' of making a habit of this, are ya?" he said, and found himself not really caring if he was.
The thought of teaching the kid useful shit, having him around...it wasn't so awful. Damn. Maybe he'd gone sort of soft after all. The kid wasn't so bad, though. A little shithead sometimes, but not bad, and, well...he couldn't stay locked up forever in some prison cell, could he?
And they had made a pretty good team back there.
"Just don't be a little punkass, I guess, and I'll feed ya."
What could he say? He was a damned bleeding heart beneath it all, and there was something kind of pitiful about the sight of the kid scarfing down food like he hadn't been fed in weeks.
-
"Mm. I'm like a stray cat. Now I know I can get food out of you, you'll never get rid of me."
He finished well before Cyrus and went back for more. Getting up and getting himself into the kitchen gave him the opportunity to hide the ridiculous, giddy smile that lit up his face as the prospect of coaxing Cyrus into feeding him like this again. And again and again. So what if he'd have to hunt for his own meat? It was better than sitting in a gray room all day, trying to teach Teinari psychics how to do anything more complicated than levitate a damned rock.
He returned with a much smaller serving, and didn't inhale it quite as fast. "Deal."
He could handle that agreement, though he had a feeling that he and Cyrus differed chronically on their definition of punkass.
-
Cyrus was still finishing off his first plate when Temple returned with his second, in no rush--because he didn't need to pack on the calories like he may not see another meal for days. That was what also kept him from getting more when he did finish his food; if Temple wanted to finish it off, he could go for it. His skinny ass needed it, regardless of what the kid said.
"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow at Temple. "Good behavior just like that? Well, shit. I'd say you're less cat and more dog, Violet."
-
He would regret eating this much, but he was in that state of blissful gluttony where he didn't care. sure, Cyrus said he'd feed him again, but with real meat so scarce who knew when that would be?
"Exactly like a dog. I'm doing tricks for treats."
-
"...Ya are?" Cyrus leveled a stare at him. "What? Not being a punk?"
-
"That's the deal, right?" Temple sighed and sagged back into the couch. He was approaching a state where he wouldn't be able to eat anymore. Approaching it, but not there yet.
-
Cyrus snorted. "I dunno, that's less trick and more obedience trainin', don'tcha think?"
-
This conversation had turned weird. Temple rolled his eyes. "Fine. Obedience training. What will a trick get me?"
-
Cyrus shrugged. "I dunno. A bone to chew on? Pat on the head? Praise? More food?"
-
Temple groaned. "More food. I think I've had all I can take of that."
Fed and safe, he wanted to tip over onto the couch and fall asleep. Instead, he made himself get up and head back toward the kitchen. "You cooked, so I'll clean."
-
That nearly made Cyrus do a double-take. "Huh? Really?"
But there Temple went, off to the kitchen, leaving Cyrus blinking in surprise. He hadn't expected that. Temple had made himself so difficult, and was so high maintenance, that he had foreseen the kid expecting him to wait on him. Huh.
...He was not going to complain.
Standing up, he grabbed the plates and set them on the kitchen counter. "Fair enough. Ya even know how to hand wash dishes, princess?"
-
Temple stood in front of the sink and stared at it. "Gosh no. How does this thing work again? Make the water go!"
-
Cyrus shot Temple a flat look. "Ya turn the knobs. What do ya do in Aedolis? Clap?"
-
"Silly, everyone in Aedolis has a maid to do that for them. Gosh."
Temple washed up the plates, set them to dry, and put the remaining food in the fridge. He wanted that couch more than anything right now.
-
"And here I thought maybe ya had to chant to the dragons or some shit," Cyrus said with a roll of his eyes. The maid thing, though...honestly, with what he'd heard about Aedolis, he wasn't sure whether Temple was joking or not. He certainly acted like someone used to a lot more luxury than they had down here.
He waited for Temple to finish up his work, leaning on the counter, and it was only when he was done that he spoke up, giving voice to something that had been weighing on his mind the last few hours.
"When you're done there, I wanted to talk to ya about somethin'," he said. "See whatcha think. Just some thoughts I had."
-
Temple's eyebrows shot up. Cyrus sounded so serious, more solemn then Temple had ever heard him sound before. They didn't often have conversations like this, conversations without the buffer of stupid nicknames and complaining.
"What is it? Should I be worried?" He gave it an eighty percent chance of being something really bad.
-
"Huh? Ah, no. Nah. Nothin' bad, I don't think." Cyrus shrugged, feeling strangely awkward now. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"I was just thinkin', if I'm gonna teach ya shit, it'll be a pain in the ass if you're all the way over there." He paused and glanced at Temple to see if he was with him so far.
-
"Yeeeah?" Temple leaned forward. This was going somewhere interesting.
-
Cyrus looked away when Temple leaned forward, focusing on a neutral spot on the wall. "And, well, I was thinkin' it might be easier if ya were closer," he continued, awkwardness increasing.
"Ya know. Like, ya did a good thing today. Figured that might be enough to maybe get ya outta that facility..."
-
"Fuck yes!" Temple threw his arms around Cyrus. Stupid, maybe. Awkward, definitely. He couldn't help himself! He pulled back a second later and grabbed Cyrus by the shoulders so he could shake him.
"That's fantastic, I'm going crazy in that place!"
-
Cyrus stiffened and went very still when Temple suddenly hugged him, arms like boards at his sides, because for a second he didn't know what to do. He found himself both completely taken aback by the kid's candid joy and also a little...happy.
Aw, fuck, he had gone soft as hell.
He snapped out of it when Temple started to shake him and, with a grunt, grabbed his arms. "Whoa, now, hold on! Slow down. I'm just sayin' it might be enough. Might be a possibility. I don't know yet. I gotta talk to some folks so...don't go gettin' your hopes up too much, alright?"
-
"Too late!"
He did settle down, in spite of his words. The jittery excitement didn't leave him, he just contained it.
"If it falls through you might have to put up with me crying on your couch. But it won't! Seriously, do you know how much pull you have in that place? You should hears some of the things people think about you. They're pretty impressed."
-
That made Cyrus straighten up with interest and he looked at Temple sidelong. As much as he knew better, he couldn't help but ask, "Like what?"
-
"Oh, y'know..." Temple shrugged. "How a lot of the guys are jealous of you, they can't believe you go out alone into the subterrain, that kind of thing. Some of them are angry cuz they're too chickenshit to go topside or out past Teinar. And your superiors, they think of you whenever they think of someone who can get things done."
-
"Really..." That was news to him. Jealous, huh? Someone who could get things done? Cyrus felt his ego inflating as a grin spread across his face. He hadn't thought any of that was anything special, really. He just saw a job and went and did it, that was all--wait.
He gave a sudden jerk, looked at Temple, and released his arms when he realized he was still gripping them. Then he took a step back and cleared his throat. "Ya really shouldn't be readin' peoples' minds, ya know."
-
Temple hadn't really noticed Cyrus was still holding onto him until he let go.
"Yeah." He shrugged and grinned. "But aren't you glad you know that stuff?"
-
"Whatever I think, readin' thoughts is still bad! That's private shit. Ya gotta respect that. Anyway, yeah, that's what I wanted to talk to ya about," Cyrus said, scratching the back of his head and aiming for a neutral expression.
"Figure I'll talk it over when I take ya back tomorrow. If all goes well, ya won't have to stay there another night."
-
Temple nodded emphatically. He wasn't feeling all that sleepy anymore. This conversation had put all kinds of excitement and ideas in his head.
And he'd be reading the minds of Cyrus's superiors, and giving him tips tomorrow on how to convince them. He just wouldn't tell Cyrus he was going to do it until it was done.
"And uh..." He shrugged, and it was his turn to feel awkward. "Y'know, thanks."
-
"Don't thank me yet," Cyrus said, frowning and looking off to the side. "Dunno if it'll even work. So. Yeah. That was it."
He'd said his piece and now things were weird and he wasn't sure where to go from there. Never had been good with this shit. Maybe he shouldn't have even said anything at all yet? Kid looked so thrilled now, it would be a shame if this didn't go through.
"Well. You're probably wantin' to get some shut-eye now, huh?"
-
"Yeeeeah, I was tired. Now you got me all excited. Don't think it'll last though. Once I hit the couch I'll probably be out."
The change of subject gave him an excuse to break away and head back into the living room area, where he fell back onto the couch with a sigh. He couldn't imagine sleeping just then, but kinda figured that once he actually closed his eyes his body would remember how exhausted it was.
-
Temple hit the couch, and Cyrus headed off to his bedroom closet to gather up a few things. An extra blanket. A pillow. He bunched them up in his arms, headed back into the living room, and dumped them onto Temple's chest.
"Here ya go. I'll see ya in the mornin'."
-
Temple let his eyes drift shut for a moment, but heard Cyrus returning. A pillow and everything? He did care!
"Thanks." He caught the stuff and pretty much did what he'd wanted to do when he'd finished eating—slumped over right where he was and closed his eyes. Just as he'd thought, exhaustion caught up with him fast, and he was asleep in no time at all.
As the hours drew on toward morning—or what counted for morning in Teinar—he grew more restless and wakeful, a result of sleeping in a strange place. He awoke well before Cyrus but just lay on the couch with his eyes closed, enjoying the quiet and the comfort.
-
Some hours after Temple, Cyrus woke from a dreamless sleep. He'd slept like the dead, and still felt a little dead even after a solid nine hours, judging by the nightstand clock.
He could have laid there longer, but there was a lot to do and he couldn't keep Temple too long, anyway, before people started asking questions. With a yawn and a groan, he forced himself out of bed and headed into the living room, outwardly alive and alert even if he could have rolled over and crashed for another few hours, and already dressed for the day; he hadn't bothered to change before flopping into bed.
Approaching the foot of the couch, he nudged Temple's foot. "Rise and shine, Violet. We gotta get goin'."
-
Temple heard Cyrus shuffling about and opened an eye to watch him come into the room. Even though he'd been awake for awhile, that didn't necessarily mean he was ready to get up. This couch was way more comfortable than the bed in his cell.
"Mm." He pulled the blanket over his head and curled up. "Why don't you go out without me? I'll just hide here."
-
Cyrus rolled his eyes and grabbed the edge of the blanket. He yanked it back down and gave Temple a stern glare. "If ya want breakfast, you'll get your ass up and movin'."
-
"Breakfast?"
That was the magic word. Temple rose and stretched. He couldn't say it was the best sleep he'd ever gotten, but he was far happier to wake up here than in the facility they kept him in. First thing he did was make use of Cyrus's bathroom, then he shuffled back into the kitchen.
"What are you gonna make me?"
-
...Well, shit, was that seriously all it took? Here he'd been prepared to bodily toss him off the couch and drag him into the great outdoors when all he had to say was 'break' and the guy was up before he'd even finished saying 'fast'. It was amazing to think of all the hassle he might have avoided if he'd have known that sooner.
Perplexed, he watched Temple head off to the bathroom, scratched the back of his head, then went into the kitchen to start preparing their meal. Kid really was like some starved, feral thing.
He used up the last bits of that animal for their breakfast, cutting it into small chunks and starting up some green noodles that were made from one of the edible plants down there. He made up another sauce to go with it. Wasn't that he really enjoyed cooking, it was just that if you wanted your stuff not to taste like shit, you had to learn. And just like with his job, Cyrus had decided that if he was going to do it at all, he was going to learn to do it well.
Temple appeared in the kitchen, and Cyrus motioned with his spatula. "This." Which was about as specific as he could really get, because this concoction didn't have a name.
-
Temple wandered over to linger at Cyrus's elbow so he could watch him cook. He wanted to try this some time, be more self-sufficient, but he didn't want to learn too much. This was a nice arrangement, with Cyrus cooking for him. Like someone actually cared about him instead of leaving a tray of mass-produced food inside his door at set times every day.
"Looks good." He leaned on Cyrus's arm so he could get in close and catch a whiff of it. The smell of it cooking made his stomach growl.
"We going to the facility right after?" Their conversation from last night was still totally fresh on his mind. Even thinking about it had him beaming up at Cyrus expectantly.
-
Temple leaned on his arm, and Cyrus gave him a quick glance before turning his attention back to the cooking food. "Yeah, that's the plan. Can't leave 'em waitin' too long."
Covering the meat and sauce to let it simmer, Cyrus checked on a small pot of water he'd set aside to boil, then pulled it off the stove and grabbed a couple cups, and a couple small bags filled with some sort of loose leaf. "Tea?"
-
Temple pulled a face at the thought of going back there. It would be hard to leave this place. It was a house, a real home, when he'd been living in a cell in a government building for the past six months. This place made him feel less like a piece of machinery in a system and more like a person.
"Yeah! Does tea even grow down here?" If not, then that was some expensive shit Cyrus was about to share with him.
-
"Maybe not the sort you're used to," Cyrus said, plopping the bags into the cups and filling them with hot water. "But it works well enough. Ya make do down here with the plants that do grow."
He pushed the cup toward Temple and then went about finishing their breakfast, hiding a grin. It made a bitter, earthy drink and, come to think of it, the guy probably wouldn't be used to it if he was used to the fancy shit upstairs. It was an acquired taste and they didn't have much down here to sweeten it. Maybe he should warn him, but that wasn't as fun.
So he acted like that had just slipped his mind as he went about dishing up their plates.
-
Temple blew on the steaming liquid before taking a sip. It was too hot to taste much of anything the first couple times he tried it, but after a minute or so it started to cool down and Temple took slower sips from it because he couldn't figure out just what he was drinking. Certainly not tea. It wasn't horrible, but it was weird. If he could condense the entire subterrain into a flavor, this would be it.
"What is this?" It started off almost mineral-like but there was a biting bitterness to it that hit the back of his throat every time and made him grimace.
-
Cyrus looked up from fixing up their plate and gave Temple an odd look. "Tea."
-
"If you say so." The more it steeped, the more bitter it got, but Temple wasn't letting a little cup of tea defeat him. If he couldn't handle Teinari tea, how was he going to be able to show his face anywhere?
"Who exactly do you need to talk to to get this to happen?" Temple wanted to find out who was at the facility already and who wasn't. See if he couldn't help things along by timing their arrival right.
-
Cyrus grinned and slapped Temple on the back. "What kinda tea ya Aedolian pansies drink? This stuff'll put hair on your chest, Violet, and maybe a couple whiskers on your chin. And ya need all the help ya can get."
Sliding Temple his plate, Cyrus picked up his own and started to scarf it down standing, eager to get going. Between bites, he explained, "Several people. The facility's warden, for one. The head of my Outfit. And at least three council members gotta approve it."
He looked up. "Shouldn't be as tough as it sounds."
-
Tea sloshed out of his cup and onto the floor. Sometimes he wasn't sure if Cyrus just forgot he was way smaller than him, or if Cyrus just enjoyed flaunting his own strength. Sometimes he figured he didn't want to know the answer.
Temple followed suit, leaning back against the counter to eat standing up. He wanted to get out of there as soon as they were done and get this thing moving.
"I know the warden. He's practical, he'll be easy." He saw the man almost daily, and found him to be far less superstitious about psychics than the general populace. The warden was a man who lived on facts and evidence. Couldn't be sure about the others yet, not without getting into their heads. "And good, because it sounds plenty tough."
-
Cyrus grunted in acknowledgment. "Guess it helps ya know him. Let's hope ya made a better impression on 'im than ya did me." Never mind that his current goal was to get Temple out of the facility and into his place until he could get his feet, and never mind that the kid had saved his life and left an impression. Even as he worked to help the kid, he couldn't help but slip into old habits.
Finishing up his meal and downing his tea, he set his dishes in the sink and waited for Temple to finish. "I'm sure I can get my guy to agree. He trusts my judgment. It's the council that may be kinda hairy." He shrugged. "We'll just have to see. Like I said, don't be crushed if it don't go through."
Pushing off of the counter, he started to clean up the leftovers. If Temple wanted more, he'd just have to wait until later--he'd either be getting the rest of this here, or delivered to him in his cell.
-
"Mm." Temple set his plate aside, only partly done. His mind was far away. It was with the council members in their various places throughout the city. In their heads and in their thoughts, looking for the most vulnerable among them.
He was largely silent while Cyrus put the leftovers away, and started to wander over to the door on his own. It kept Cyrus from seeing the smile that crept onto his face. How sweet of the man to worry about his feelings, as though there were a danger this wouldn't work. As though Temple wasn't going to haul out every underhanded, dirty trick he knew of to make it happen. He was going to do all the things the Teinari were so afraid of psychics doing, and they'd never know a thing.
If Cyrus had any idea what was going on in Temple's own head just then, he might have rethought the offer.