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 Posted: Wed Apr 26, 2017 12:19 am
 
Things happened a little too quickly for the fae to process, in his sluggish state. His head still felt like it was sloshing back and fourth in his skull behind his eyes, screwed shut to try and get it to stabilize.It felt like nothing was sitting still inside of him. So it was the stinging against his scalp that made him open his eyes, rather than his feet falling under him. He couldn't really feel his legs, actually, so it was a small miracle that he kept them under him. The fairy was confused, watching the room spiral away as he was dragged backwards. He could see Odin in his peripheral, but wasn't quite sure what the werewolf was doing. He had no clue what was going on, or how livid he'd made his new 'keeper' with his blatant defiance.
He'd gone over it in his head last night, over and over again. He'd vowed not to use the Pluton. It wasn't worth the risk. He was still new to Odins tiny regime, still fresh off of the alchemists bloc. Things were dangerous enough without him making extra trouble for himself. But things being stressful was exactly what made the itch so hard to resist. He'd paced, silently, back and fourth for some time after lights out, trying to make himself flush the stuff. But the things he'd gone through to get it... just disposing of it would be like biting his own finger off. He'd endured pain and humiliation just to get his hands on the stuff. He couldn't toss it. He couldn't use it. It had taken him an hour to rationalize it to himself. This would be the last time. He'd bought and paid for the stuff, and things were bad enough as it were. Pluton wasn't a super strong drug, so he'd take it that night, ride it out through the next morning, and be sober and relaxed enough to get through another day. Then he wouldn't trade for anything else again. He'd get Julian to help him. Hell, he'd tell Odin everything outright. But just this once. Just one more, to ease the pain. One more would be fine. Just once.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
The feeling of his body colliding with the wall behind him felt more far away than it should have, but it jarred him enough to tug him back into his body, make him aware of the rough hand clamping down over his mouth, his head pushed back against the wall, the sight of Odin towering over him, enraged. The fairys eyes went wide, sensory memory throwing him back to three years ago, when it was Vlads hand clamping over his mouth. His wings, quietly unfurled, fluttered weakly against the inside of his shirt as the panic came rushing back, more clear and lucid than it had been otherwise. Weakly, he brought his hands up, trying in a vain effort to pull Odins hand away. He felt like he couldn't breathe with it there. Unfortunately, the panic tied him back into his own body just enough for him to perfectly feel the impact at his stomach. What noise he did make was mostly a breathless whimper against the hand clamped over his mouth. The blow, effortless on the part of the werewolf no doubt, was enough to tear through the delicate muscle tissue that comprised most of the faes system easily. He could almost feel ligaments being torn, the thin veil of muscle he'd managed to accumulate giving way under the force of the blow like paper mache. It drove the breath out of him, made his head spin, dizzy with it. He tried to cough, to gag and gasp for air, but Odins hand over his mouth made that impossible. He struggled to get more air in, feeling his body curl around the point of impact, eyes watering. The pain was duller than it would have been without the pluton, but he could feel the pressure with terrifying clarity. He didn't hear anything snap, at least, but he could feel what seemed to be his insides turning from solid to mush. He wanted to vomit, twitching and spasming in pain in Odins grasp. He was like a bird, pinned down by one wing, fluttering madly trying to escape.
"This is it. I'm dying."
The thought came to him unbidden. But maybe dying wouldn't be so bad. Then there'd be no more itch, no more prison, no more Noel, no more Leon, right? Before he could come to terms with his death, there was a shadow over him, blue and white pressed right up against him. Bodies on top of him. He was reminded of a recurring nightmare of his, where he was trapped under Noels dead body. In the dream he was being crushed, suffocating under his dead twin, but no matter how hard he tried, Noels body was too heavy to move. In some, he just cried and suffocated until he 'died' and woke up. In other, he screamed, cried out at the top of his lungs for someone, Ben, anyone, to please come help him, save him, but nobody ever came. He was there again, suffocating, a hand over his mouth and a body pressed over him. He heard Julian speak, but he couldn't make sense of the words. Well, except 'die.' Yes, he was definitely dying. The tears that had welled up spilled over, and he choked against Odins hand, unable to quite sob.
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Posted: Wed Apr 26, 2017 2:12 pm
  
There weren’t many victimless crimes when a werewolf got upset. Violence was built into their DNA. Hungry? Start getting agitated and pick a fight. Annoyed? Throw a punch to get the person to stop harassing you. Intimidated? Beat someone. Unsure? Beat someone. Where did Odin fall? He didn’t know. He never knew how he felt or what he was upset about. He told Leon not to, and Leon did. So here they were. Here he was, holding the fae down tight against the wall so he could pop the fairy apart like an unwanted zit. That would make him feel better. It would place him above Leon. It would scare Leon from ever making a stupid decision again. It would display that Odin can keep his little bitches in line. It would make it so things never had to escalate again in the future. It was for the best. The irrational werewolf knew it was for the best. He wasn’t crazy. He started and this is what had to be done.
The first hit he delivered was quiet enough. It didn’t cause much noise and the fae was still half out of it to begin with. Odin knew how difficult it was to respond to things in a timely manner when your head was miles above where it should be. Not that Leon would stand the slightest bit of a chance even if he was sober. Odin towered over him like a shadow where the light was angled against your body so it became four times your normal length. He lingered there, able to easily do what he wanted to Leon even if the poor thing fought back with all his might. That was the situation. That was always going to be the situation. Odin was above the two.
As his hand wound back to deliver a traumatic blow, that third body was squeezing its way between. Odin was close enough to Leon, so he paused as he needed to shift back slightly for Julian to fit. The punch had never been delivered, but his arm was still wound back, a bad habit he’d never been corrected about. Julian’s head was just in front of Odin’s mark. That head. He had near immediate flashes of the night before.
His hands wrapped around Julian’s head, for nearly a moment, before he quickly pulled them away grabbing the bed sheets as he leaned over the mage. When he finally lost himself, his fingers threaded between one another as they locked behind Julian’s neck and pulled inwards. Everything Odin did had been on purpose. Avoiding that stupid head that Odin watched get nearly smashed inwards. The same way he had pushed and ******** with Julian trying to see if he was off balance or if he had any cognitive problems. Odin was trying to play doctor without asking a single question. So he stood there, that glare on his face not budging.
"Please, no-- Can't, Odin-- You can't, or he'll die-- Please--"
If it weren’t for that ******** head. Odin had never watched a rape take place before. He walked in a couple times on his friends smashing extremely intoxicated partners. Everything was laughs. Odin would laugh. His friend would laugh. Their sexual partner would laugh. Jokes would be shared. That was the closest thing he’d ever seen to sexual aggression before prison. He’d never watched an old man like Hotts press Julian’s face against the bars. He’d never ran his fingers over those light marks on Julian’s skin that Hotts caused. The ones that Odin was always reminded of: You did it. His monster had told him so clearly during that walk of shame to the cafeteria. He’d heard the yelps. The grunts. The smacks. Odin didn’t know he had a heart… Not until that moment when his broke.
He’d never dealt with feelings swelling like this before. Angry was angry. Angry was angry. It had always been angry. Julian changed it to sadness, which didn’t display across his face as the werewolf went stupid, unable to find a response. Unable to articulate. Unable to tell him to get out of the way. His glare remained strong as he tried to find a way to deal with the two emotions at war in his head. One piece of him held sympathy and mercy. The other held pain and punishment. Too much. Too much. Move. Do something. Move. He thought, hissing at himself as he finally flung his loaded arm forwards.
BASH.
Not against Julian’s delicate head. Not against Julian’s little friend. The wall. His fist landed just besides the two, that anger taking out a pile of his aggression while that sadness physically hurt himself. He’d take the hit. He’d take it for Julian. He’d take it to make himself feel better. Odin’s other hand slowly slithered off Leon’s mouth as he turned around and collected his bathroom things into his towel once again. His knuckles were ********. Probably swelling up as he moved. "Shower.” Odin told the two. Just like that, acting like nothing had happened between the three of them. He brought the towel closer to himself as he lingered outside Leon’s cell once more, leaning against the bars to wait for the two as he had been before he began to start s**t.
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Posted: Thu Apr 27, 2017 10:04 am
  
In car collisions, the abject injustice is that it's usually the drunk driver that walks away fine. They're loose and relaxed, minimally damaged because they loll and roll with the careening coffin their vehicle has become. And if they aren't crushed, or pinned, or impaled by some bit of debris that wings off from somewhere else, then they stumble out of their car. Shocked, and sometimes angry, looking to assign blame to the person who obviously hit them and not the other way around. Usually, that person wasn't so lucky. They were sober, paying at least a modicum of attention to the roadway, and they saw the battering ram that plowed into them, twisting them in the intersection. In the split-second before impact, they tense. They brace themselves against the wheel, or the dashboard, or the window frame, so they're hurt or dazed when the smash of contact throws them in the opposite direction or snaps a bone or forces a tense muscle in a direction it's just not supposed to go.
Not this time.
Leon was still floating, but that didn't protect him when Odin's fist drove into his abdomen, because all the descriptors in the world didn't mean a damn thing-- they all boiled down to the fact that Leo was a fairy. Tiny and delicate and pale, taking on bruises even more readily than Julian, and suffering at least twice the damage under similar punishment. And prison hadn't hardened him much. The new muscle, hard-won, couldn't protect him. The drug-addled confusion that chased over his expression, filtering away to fear-- that was even more useless. He didn't seem to struggle much, and Julian didn't think that had as much to do with whatever he'd taken. Maybe it was just all the years of being here, in this place, having these same things-- and worse, he knew, he'd seen the long-muzzled bite marks under the ivorette's collar-- happen over and over and over again. Feeling thrown away, all those years when nobody wrote or visited. Standing in the yard, staring at the sky, unable to reach it even though there were wings on his back. Leon, small Leon, gentle Leon, brilliant Leon, on whom so much hinged. Crying. It was enough to wring Julian's heart until there was a physical pain in his chest. If he'd known, how much could he have done to avert this? How many letters? How many visits? He could have brought the fairy books from the approved list. Could have found some way-- some way-- to keep him healthier, bring him berries that he liked, fresh things, better for him than the salted over-boiled vegetables. Leon wasn't a violent offender, surely he'd have been allowed some kind of monitored visitation without a plate of glass between. How much better would his outlook have been if Julian had known he was here? If Julian had been able to tell him what was going on in the outside world and just hold his hand. Remind him that he mattered. That life could go on.
It was just a cow's opinion.
The inkwell hadn't known. Hadn't helped. It was as much his fault that Leon was doing this as the alchemists who'd hooked him. An ounce of prevention. Just an ounce. Julian knew he'd been holding. It didn't take a genius, which was great, because obviously the azurette wasn't one. He knew Leon was lying. Knew Leon was desperate. Hadn't wanted to tell Odin and sour their interactions from the start, wanted to give the fairy the chance to make the right decision on his own, didn't what the smaller man to feel like Julian would betray him. He'd built this situation.
So, for all the times he should have been there and wasn't, for all the times other people had beaten Leon, Julian shielded him now. Odin didn't want to hurt either of them, but disobedience couldn't be allowed-- especially in public, where other people might see and start to question the blonde's grip on what he owned. But he couldn't strike Leon. Not with his full strength, or probably even with half of it. The smaller man's bones-- fragile, light, even when he was full-sized-- would break. His organs would be crushed. He would die. And Julian couldn't allow that to happen. Not to either of them. It would be accidental-- Odin wouldn't mean to do it-- but that would make no difference. The only answer was to take the beating himself. It would hurt, but even his slim frame would take the damage better than Leon could.
So he'd wormed in between them, hands braced against the wall to spread his back and shoulders a little more, trying to block the fairy from view. Head bowed in a way that put his face close to Leon's crown, the long navyceruleantealcyan of his mane curtaining the smaller figure, like hiding Leo's tears was just as much a part of keeping him safe. The bright strands brushed the back of Odin's knuckles where the werewolf's hand clamped over the ivorette's mouth, and Julian waited. Tense. Not knowing where the blow would fall, only knowing that it had to, because foregoing punishment wasn't an option in this place. His shoulders would be easy targets, and maybe the most merciful. And Odin could be merciful. Julian knew that. Knew that better than anyone in this place.
But even he wasn't prepared for the blonde to strike the wall like that. The mage flinched, curling a little tighter around Leon at the sound. The concrete of the wall didn't give, but the force of it was intimidating. And yet it missed them. Because Odin wanted it to. No other explanation, with as close as the werewolf was. With as easy as it would have been for things to end in blood.
His head turned in the wake of it, eyes up for a fraction of a second, finding the taller man's face, and the look that flashed through the gold was braided together from too many separate parts for any of them to be easily readable. Confusion. Concern. Gratitude. Relief. Apology. Odin was already drawing back, gathering up his own things, and Julian could see the damage to his hand. It made his brows draw together as the inkwell eased, sitting up slowly to give Leon a little more space.
Shower., he said, and then he stepped past the bars. It was a transition Julian had become familiar with already. It meant that this was done, and on to the next thing, where what happened here ceased to exist. Leon wasn't used to that yet, wasn't in a position that would make it easier for him to understand the abrupt shift, but the inkwell didn't have much time to explain.
"Can you breathe alright, little bug..? " Less stupid than asking if Leon was okay. No, of course he wasn't.
He lifted his own little bundle of supplies from the mattress, using the corner of his towel to dab carefully at the tears on the fairy's cheeks. It wouldn't be good, crying like that in front of the other inmates. Julian knew from experience. So would Leon, for that matter. Taking slow breaths, chest still tight from residual anxiety, the azurette looked Leon in the face. He might not remember, later. He might think that this was the worst it could get, or he might be so desperate later that withdrawal suckered him into believing he could get away with it.
"You can't keep doing this. You aren't the only one affected, and testing him like that can undermine him in front of the others. If you do that, Odin will have to do things he won't want to, just to show them that he isn't weak." The words were soft, slow, burred by the light swelling in Julian's throat. But steady. He didn't stutter over them or break them up. Not with Leon. He was gathering up the smaller man's things, too. Folding them up inside the fairy's towel like a burrito, so that the contents couldn't slip out easily, and it would be little enough to tuck under Leon's arm. Already, the inkwell sounded calmer. When the storm passed, you kept going on with your life. They needed to shower, and Odin was waiting for them. So he scooted to the edge of the mattress, holding a hand out for Leon to take. The fairy would probably need the help, unsteady as he seemed. And hurt, now, too. Not as badly as he could have been. But bad enough. "We need to help each other. Take care of each other. All three of us. You and I can do that by listening. Odin said for us to shower. So where are we going to go?"
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Posted: Sun May 07, 2017 12:35 pm
He wasn't coherent enough to flinch properly when Odins fist collided with the wall just next to him, but as soon as the werewolf released his grasp on the fairy, he sank down, sliding his back down the wall to rest sitting on the floor. For a few long, terrifying moments, he still couldn't suck air into his lungs. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, reeling and doing his best not to vomit. With a whimper, he curled his body around himself, clutching at his stomach as Odin growled,
"Shower."
Partly, he knew it was just the panic. His body was having difficulty processing exactly how badly he was hurt, so it just seemed to assume the worst. For all Leon knew, it was right. The reality was a flowering bruise that would discolor his abdomen for a few days, and make standing and sitting painful for about a week, but no severe damage. But to Leon in that moment, he wasn't certain he'd be able to function properly at all. His breaths came slow and shaky, but relatively even. Despite what he thought, his lungs hadn't collapsed. The tears were still rolling down his face, a mixed reaction of pain and fear. He didn't want this. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. When Julian spoke again, he could hear the mages voice, but it sounded distant. The fairy ground his teeth, trying his best to listen. Could he breathe? Shaking, he nodded weakly, doing his best to keep breathing, slow and steady. The rest of the words still sounded far away, and he couldn't quite comprehend some of them. But he hears enough to get the gist of it.
"Don't test him. You made him do this." And it was true, wasn't it? Nothing had really changed. Maybe it really was better to stick with the devil you knew.
The adrenaline from his panic had him feeling things a little better than maybe he should. But, it was also slowly forcing back into another downswing. Enough, at least, that he was better able to understand Julian and what he was doing as he sat on the floor, watching the mage gather his things for him. The fairys limbs were still shaking from a mix of pain and residual fear as he nodded at what Julian was saying. Just listen. Just do as you're told.
"Odin said for us to shower. So where are we going to go?"
As if he was a child watching a preschool cartoon asking which hole the square block should go in, and not a man who had, once, navigated complex legal systems, been an integral figure in deciding the fates of criminals and organizations. No, that fairy was dead. This Leon was just a skeevy user who couldn't keep his hands off the damn stuff for one night, and got roughed up by a prison inmate who resembled the stereotypical bully figure in every bad highschool drama film. No, this Leon could only be treated like a dimwitted child. So he just nodded, clenching his jaw and shuddering as his voice came out just as shaky.
"S-shower..."
He repeated it numbly, slowly pushing himself up off of the floor on shaking legs. He kept one arm coiled around his wounded stomach, body hunched around the tender spot slightly. His vision was still off some, so he missed the hand Julian held out to him for a moment as he dimly looked around for his dropped towel. But, after a few disorienting moments, his eyes settled on him, his extended arm. His eyes still tracked slowly, but at length he reached out and took the inkwells hand, keeping his head bowed and allowing himself to be blindly led wherever the two decided to take him, showers or no.
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Posted: Sun May 07, 2017 2:01 pm
Odin moved down the hallway, his bloodied fist displayed as a small trail ran down his ring finger. It wasn’t supposed to be the biggest place of impact. Not there. Punching with your pinky and ring finger in the lead was a good way to break your hand, but the werewolf didn’t know. Odin was just lucky he hadn’t hurt himself up until this point. His shitty form would go unnoticed as long as his brute strength was behind each movement. While his injured hand was hanging limply at his side, his towel was wrapped up hiding in his other. Everything was so different today. It was different with Leon and different with Julian. Odin had been growing used to just the two of them. Leon made everything different.
Once he made it to the bathroom they were allowed to use, he cut to the left turn leading to the shower room. It reminded him of high school. One long wall with pipes sticking near the ceiling leading to a bunch of random shitty showerheads. No dividers. No curtains. Just a room. There were two inmates off on the far wall who beat everyone else there. Odin didn’t even bother to look at who they were as he began to strip, tossing his clothes to the small area just before entering you could put your things. The towel was tossed on top of his clothes, then Odin removed his toothbrush, toothpaste, and shampoo. Those were the only three objects he brought with him as he walked along the right wall heading to the farthest corner from the two inmates who arrived before them.
Odin was minding his own business. He wasn’t interested in starting trouble, so his eyes stayed on that tile wall as he turned the handle to his showerhead. It didn’t take long before he was running his toothbrush under the water, scrubbing at it before placing toothpaste on and gently rubbing the bristles against his teeth. The cold water was running over his body, the unpleasant feeling causing him to do as he usually did: Use a ton of shampoo, allow it to fall from his head and rub it into his body before it went down the drain. He used to own a bar of soap but let’s be honest. Took longer when you had to switch soaps and scrub it along your body. Shampoo was same s**t anyways, eh? So he started the habit. Using shampoo didn’t seem to have bad side effects. He was too old to break out, but occasionally his skin would dry out slightly. The werewolf didn’t mind it much. He just wanted his warm showers back. When he got out maybe that would be the first thing he’d do: sit in a hot shower so long until his skin went raw. Christ, look at him. Odin was turning into Faulkner. That annoying elf spoke nonstop about what he wanted to do when he first got out. Odin had fallen into the same habits… It must’ve just been a person’s nature, looking forwards to the future so you don’t get caught in the present. Having flaky dried out skin from taking a long a** steaming shower. As terrible as it sounded, that seemed pretty great to Odin. He ran his hand underneath his armpits before spitting the toothpaste in his mouth towards the drain closest to him.
The werewolf’s body went tense as he dunked himself under the water again. He brought his hands up shaking his hair against the water’s flow in order to knock out the remaining shampoo, then he ran his hands along his body. Shoulders. Arms. Armpits. Chest. Sides. Back. a**. d**k. Legs. He quickly swiped any of the remaining soap from his body in that order.
Odin might’ve only took three minutes showers max since he got in. The werewolf always moved so quickly and made the unpleasant experience last as quick as possible. So as usual, it only took him a few minutes before he placed his hand out to turn his faucet off then the male glanced towards Leon and Julian. Those were the only two he was allowed to look at. Making eye contact with anyone, especially in a place like this, could easily be mistook as an aggressive act or challenge… So that was why he immediately knew trouble when he felt the presence behind him.
The werewolf turned to see five males packing themselves in around them. One burly looking fellow leaned against the wall and poked at Leon’s wings once. Just as fast as he saw it, Odin snapped his teeth like a rabid animal aggressively cutting in, using his body to block Leon from the unwanted contact. Who the hell these guys think they are? The alchemists send them? Hotts?
s**t.
The awkwardness didn’t really hit Odin. It might’ve been the pure adrenaline or what, but it was as though he didn’t even care everyone in the situation was completely naked. Didn’t care that the five of them were eyeing him, all of him, trying to size him up and judge how easy he’d be to take down. But here? With guards just outside the bathrooms in the hallway? They’d hear if a commotion broke out wouldn’t they? Surely these guys knew Odin wouldn’t go down without a fight, right? He didn’t know what to do. Nobody was talking or explaining. They were just glaring him down so all he could do was glare back as he tried to make it look as though he wasn’t stumbling for words inside his head.
”Dunno which one deserves to win the dog show.” One finally stated. A finger lifted, aiming right past Odin towards Julian.
”I dunno about you but I’m a sucker for lapdogs. You all cleaned up from last night?” For ********. How’d they know? Odin didn’t follow the finger to look back at Julian. He already knew damn well who they were pointing to and what they were cracking jokes about. Odin tried to think of a reply. He really did. This ain’t a dog show. It’s a dogfight. or maybe Get that finger down or it’s about to be shattered. He already took too long to reply as it was and the werewolf was ******** awful at getting into verbal confrontations. So he couldn’t do anything but stand there acting like a wall as he glared at the five of them. ”Hey boy,” The man was talking to Julian. Not Odin. ”I asked you a question.” What was Odin supposed to do when someone spoke to Julian without permission? More words began swelling around in Odin’s head as he tried his hardest to think up a proper reply. Was the brilliant comeback Odin managed to sputter out like venom. Nothing creative. Nothing playful. He didn’t have the ability to play along. All he could do was act like a territorial animal warning them to get the ******** back before he decided to get violent. That’s all Odin ever was in the end.
”What was that?” Another one asked. Odin’s head turned sharply to get a view of the guy. ”I couldn’t hear ya. I got this hearing disorder where I can’t hear bitches very well.” They were ready the second they let out those fighting words. He heard the cracking noises as he lifted his arm to throw a punch. Odin heard it but he still punched anyways, the shapeshifter he went to throw his arm up, so as Odin made contact, his hand was sliding up against an arm with spikes sticking straight outta it. His fist nicked against some of the jagged bones sculpted beneath the shapeshifter’s surface. He pierced right through, the spikes dragging along the fist of his fist as he tore away nearly letting out a profanity but two sets of hands flew atop his mouth.
”Hush hush hush.” One of them whispered. He was pushed against the wall by the two covering any screams he almost made. His back hit against the tile his eyes spreading open slightly as he stared out at the pack. Odin was one guy. He was one ******** guy. He could probably knock the two off their feet but what the ******** was he supposed to do with the others? What was he supposed to do when--
”We’ll kill ya.” The shapeshifter muttered fairly pleased with himself. Odin felt their damned hands leave his body, but a single object was placed against his chest. When he glanced down, he realized it was an advesper’s familiar. He’d never seen one before. The creature was black, shorter than you’d expect. It had this long curved limb with a spike sticking out the end, pressed gently against his chest.
”Move and you’ll learn how it feels to lose a heart.” The same one who’d told him to hush. ”I can cut through bone like butter.” He promised. That one obviously owned the familiar. Odin’s was alert, his head snapping to the side. Snapping towards Julian. He didn’t know the first thing about advespers. He didn’t know the first thing about dealing with things like this. What would happen if he tried to smack the limb away and kick the familiar across the room? Did he work like that? It had to work like that. It was Odin’s only option. He had to just...
”Come on now, don’t scare the mutt.” Another one of them walked forwards slightly towards Julian. He wrapped his hand round the mage’s wrist, then turned and collected Leon with his other free hand. That was when the advesper stabbed through Odin’s chest. He couldn’t breathe. His heart stopped beating hadn’t it? Odin’s eyes dropped to look at the damage.
The familiar hadn’t budged. But s**t. His chest felt so heavy. His heart stopped anyways. It sank down into his stomach as his head shot back up at the man who thought he could just walk off with the two. Walk off like it was nothing. Walk off like Odin wasn’t even a valid protector and was nothing more than a helpless child.
”We’ll just be taking these and slide outta your hair. You’ll either get ten bucks thrown in commissary for each of them, or you’ll become just another corpse they find cut up and shoved down the shower drain.” tab
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Posted: Sun May 07, 2017 2:03 pm
Nobody needed to know who Hale had alliances with or not. He kept his friends close and quiet and damn well did the ghoul have his methods. Jackie was one of those guys who came in handy. The incubus could manipulate just about anyone he wanted. Nobody knew about the guy's race unless they needed to so it wasn't common knowledge. Most inmates just assumed he was powerful, they had no idea what he was really doing. ******** them a couple of times until they were begging to follow him. By the time inmates were wrapped around his finger, it was too late for them to make the decision if they wanted to be with the incubus or not. d**k-slaves, Hale called them. Jackie and the d**k Slaves. It was like the name of a shitty band. Men built like bricks willing to do anything if it meant the incubus would drop a load in them. It was hilarious to watch his victims unknowingly fall into the same trap over and over again. Jackie was one of the few people Hale really liked within the prison walls. The two had a symbiotic relationship with one another.
So when Hale turned in one of his favors Jackie was happy to oblige. Prison was a tricky place when it came to mental games. Hale had some good guidance his first two years on how things worked, so he was familiar with plenty of techniques. The wolf wasn't interested in getting into trouble, that much was obvious… But the moron kept making moves on his own. Hale had tried to reach out to the male a couple times now and was met with quickly getting shut down. If there's one thing you don't want, it's for an inmate to shut you down to your face. Hale wasn't stupid enough to allow that to happen and he had become positive that’s exactly what would happen if he tried. If someone says no to you, it’s forcing a fight to see who deserves a dominant position. The werewolf was clearly already familiar with the ritual. He walked the halls with bruised fists and his victims were always moving off with broken bones and busted faces. Hale couldn’t stop himself from wanting that brute power on his side... The ways he wanted to use it required a friendship. The ghouls just needed to help show the werewolf where his home was, then Odin would join them willingly. After Adam had tested the waters, Hale knew exactly what he was to do.
Make sure no isn’t an option. Hale had always been good at removing people’s free will all while giving them a say in the matter. Manipulation was the most effective form of trust.
So Jackie was sent in to rough the werewolf up, corner him like a caged animal. Hale wasn’t actually going to let Odin’s belongings get taken from him, but Jackie promised to make the threat of it seriously happening real. Odin needed to learn his place. He needed to learn that getting through his prison sentence alone was impossible. That he didn’t have to be a part of a gang to be associated with them. Then one day… When he was ready… Odin would ask for help when a serious problem arose.
Hale wanted to be that man.
One of Jackie's d**k-slaves showed up to Hale's cell nodding to the male. "Ready for ya." He stated, which was all Hale needed to hear as he finished slicking his hair back. Show time. The ghoul took the powerbar next to his bedside, he slowly peeled back the already-opened snack and double checked that Adam hadn't removed the finger thinking it was his. The caim hadn't been doing so well lately. Adam would think he owned Hale's belongings and pick them up without much thought. He'd randomly voice up and take lead of conversations in the cafeteria, stealing the words straight from Hale's lips. Most recently, he'd be stealing Hale's meat and gnawing on it like he was a cannibal himself. Hale had to keep a close watch on the caim so he could take any bits of meat that Adam wasn't supposed to be sucking on. While normally, he'd beat the s**t out of someone for even thinking about touching his things, Hale had some small sliver of understanding for his cellmate. He hadn't given Adam a choice when it came to how his abilities got used and when. The caim was forced to shut up and do as Hale told him, when he told him. Besides, it was an improvement. Adam acting as Hale 2.0 was nice. He felt and thought the same things Hale did, often talking about the same interests. He never thought he'd grow so fond of someone for the silliest of reasons. Sometimes Adam would really get into the act, a stupid expression would shoot across his face when someone flat told him to shut up because he wasn’t who he thought he was. Those were the types of things that always brought a smile to his face even on the darkest of days..
With the finger still stuck between the bar, Hale re-positioned the snack’s casing to make it appear closed. He grabbed his shower things and made his way for the bathrooms closest to their block. He took his sweet time stripping down, and by the time he turned the corner he could see Jackie holding onto Julian and Leon. Odin was glaring at the advesper’s familiar. One that Hale was able to see as well. Perfect. They looked beyond helpless.
The ghoul stomped forwards without much warning. His forearm quickly wrapped itself around the advesper and he was tightening his grip, securing the male in a headlock as he bit the top of the male's scalp. He gently dropped the d**k-slave to the floor like a bag of bricks and found himself glaring towards Jackie. The incubus made eye contact, the two shooting a look of venom from one to the other. "You're gonna leave my showers before my men get here, or I'm gonna have an early breakfast outta your face, boy." He ran his tongue against his upper teeth, displaying them proudly towards the incubus. The perfectly sharpened tools that have never failed Hale. The incubus snarled, waving a hand in Hale’s ******** off. This business has nothing to do with you.” Jackie shot back at the ghoul.
”Anything that takes place in my showers has to do with me.” Hale moved over slamming the familiar away from Odin, the advesper was kind enough to dissipate the thing and allow it to be gone as though it were in a puff of smoke. ”Next time you snake your way in here looking for cheap shots don’t you start bitching when it becomes a fair fight.” Hale nodded towards Odin slowly, eyeing at the four left over. ”We’ll give them a handicap. Two for each of us? I still bet we can kick all their teeth out within a minute.” And it was then that Jackie released Julian and Leon. Playing his part perfectly, trying to make it look like they just wanted easy prey. That working for it like this wasn’t worth it.
It was that simple for Hale to give Odin his power back. So as Jackie and the d**k Slaves dragged the advepser off towards a far corner (where the two inmates from before already left from) to act like they were all just trying to shower innocently, Hale had his chance to turn to the werewolf. This was the new first interaction. No need to ask the werewolf if he wanted an alliance, they were already damn well in one. ”Funny thing about hoodlums is once you take away their weapons, they act like bitches. Take away their clothes, they ain’t got s**t to them.” Hale had been in prison long enough that he didn’t give a ******** who saw him naked anymore. You get tired of humiliation as the years go on. That’s all prison is, one giant circus show designed to humiliate you. ”Bottom feeders pretending to be sharks.” Hale explained with a rather content smile that him and Odin managed to overcome to threat. Hale leaned a hand over Odin’s shoulder briefly, the snack held mysteriously close to his face. Smell. Hale wanted the little dog to smell his treat. Associate Hale with good things. Hale is your friend, Odin. He’s the only one who is here for you because he’s fair. He cares about people’s pride and making sure nobody is taken advantage of unfairly. ”I see you working out in the yards often.” The ghoul nodded towards the powerbar. ”You could use some extra.” Then Hale’s eyes darted towards Julian and Leon. Julian was the prison wifey. He made a good little girl. Always did up Odin’s bed and took what the werewolf had to give without much fight, or so Hale heard. It was insanity that Hale hadn’t noticed Julian sooner. A kid like that was worth a lot in a prison filled to the brim with brutes and husky men. A slim little thing like that who even had the decency to grow his hair out to fit the role. Hale’s eyes rolled to the side landing on Leon.
Hell, Odin had two.
The fairy’s main purpose had never been for wifey material though. The alchemists had found a good use for the kid. Nobody had a ******** clue what Odin planned on doing with him instead, but Hale was existed to find out what the werewolf was going to do with him. ******** the alchemists after all. They ended up cutting into Hale’s business. He hated any prison gangs that began to get too big. The ghouls weren’t going to stay on top forever. Hale already watched the fall of plenty of groups. He knew the only thing he could do was try to keep the other prison gangs down while his dominated. He wouldn’t be able to forever, but he could save them a little time.
You humans have a thing or two to learn about prison.
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2017 12:04 pm
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-- ❝i'm just so tired of waking up on the ground❞
He was always trying to help. When he'd offered his hand for the fairy to take, and when he'd prompted the smaller man to answer him, both things had been in an effort to combat the disorientation Leon was probably still feeling. Julian wasn't sure what the ivorette had taken, but he knew that violence probably hadn't helped with getting him to focus. Knew that, no matter how carefully he tried to stress his point, he would need to do it again later, when Leon was lucid enough to really understand what he was being told. Not "accept." Julian wasn't stupid. He grasped that it would never be as easy as telling Leo that he shouldn't. Not when his entire bodily makeup started to scream at him that he needed to do exactly what Odin had forbidden him from.
Leo followed Julian and Julian followed Odin, the inkwell careful to herd the smallest of their number with gentle presses of his palm against the fairy's shoulders so that he wouldn't bump walls or other inmates. Maybe the cold from the showers would sharpen the ivorette's concentration. Julian hoped so, because otherwise both of them would be sluggish and dim in the wake of morning routine.
He hated the prison showers.
In the beginning, it had been because it felt like there was even less privacy than any other part of the prison. The azurette had been uncomfortable enough undressing in front of strangers out in the real world-- so much so that, on rare beach trips, he wore a teeshirt with his trunks to go swimming. Here, that wasn't an option. Here, you had to strip down in front of everyone else and pretend that they didn't exist while simultaneously trying to be hyperaware of anyone entering your bubble of space. At least, if you were Julian. Head down, eyes flicking from one corner to another. It had been bad, before Odin. Now, as long as he remained relatively near the werewolf, there was something like safety. And the morning shower wasn't going to be as terribly awkward today as it usually was. He wouldn't need to stand off to the side of his cellmate and try to pretend that he just really, really needed to get his a** clean for no reason. It was mortifying, especially, doing something like that in front of Leon, who'd known him the majority of his life. Bad enough for the fairy to see bruises on his hips, unmistakeable for what they were.
He tried to take his mind off it, arranging his things neatly beside Odin's, folding the garments and putting paste on his toothbrush, tucking the bit of plastic into his mouth to have both hands free. He'd learned already that it was important to know whether anyone else tampered with your things. So the inkwell folded his towel around the clothes and tube of toothpaste, using the same nurse corners he put into the sheets when making beds. To get at what was inside, someone would have to give themselves away by ruining the fold-- or know how to do it themselves. As bad as it was to be bare and exposed, the inkwell took an extra minute to render Leon and Odin's things into similar bundles. The blonde wasn't the only one that needed to be vigilant, and in any case, it kept Julian out of the cold water for just a couple seconds longer.
But not indefinitely.
The inkwell had never responded well to low temperatures. His circulation was crawlingly slow in general, leaving his hands and feet feeling chilled in anything less than eighty-degree weather. Warmer was better. Comfortable. But warm water wasn't even an option. To have a shower in this place that even approached lukewarm meant vying for space with other inmates later in the day, and the trade-off was further embarrassment and possible injury. So he'd never questioned Odin's choice of morning routine, although it left him shivering and painfully sluggish. Eyes down, he always tried to brace for the bite of icy spray, but flinched anyway, biting down on his toothbrush before beginning the careful maintenance of his teeth. Not looking at Odin, not looking at Leon. Attention on the drain in the floor as his movements became slower and slower, like a sun-starved reptile. Shampoo, lathering poorly in the cold stream, went into the mane of his hair and down over his shoulders, rubbed over the surface of his skin. It wasn't for the purpose of saving time, but only because, of the soaps available in the commissary, it was the one that left no filmy residue clinging once it had been rinsed away. The fact that it did save time was probably the only thing that kept Julian from hypothermia every morning. So he was only slightly dazed, looking up a beat too slow, the newcomers already far too close. One of them reached to touch Leon, but the inkwell only got as far as parting his lips, a dismayed expression crossing his face in slow motion, before Odin was between the two. To Julian's senses, processing just as fast as molasses at the moment, the werewolf seemed to have just blinked into existence in front of the fairy, teeth snapping as though he had every intention of biting.
But you didn't need to be very quick on the uptake to understand that things might go badly anyway. That, with all the posturing used to save face in prison, there would come a moment when the line had to be crossed again. Like it had with Hotts. Like it had in the yard, when Odin snapped that alchemist's wrist. Julian was useless at even the best of times, and even if Leon had been in a position to use his dust, it would immediately be washed down the drain. The werewolf was strong, but he was, at the end of everything, one man against five. The azurette had known something like this would happen eventually, that there would be an outside challenge. But he'd never believed it would happen so quickly. Or, he'd needed to believe that it wouldn't. That there was a chance of all of them leaving this place one day, intact and sane.
Dunno which one deserves to win the dog show..
Long hair plastered down his back, tendrils of blue stuck to his cheeks and forehead, down his chest, the inkwell stood shivering, trying to fight the urge to wrap his arms around himself. It would just make things worse if he tried to manufacture cover. Wishing he was just a little closer to his clothes, wishing the group would just have their laugh and then go.
You all cleaned up from last night?
Embarrassed, his attention jumped to the side. To Leon. The fairy was like a brother to him. It was stupid, wanting to maintain some shred of privacy from the ivorette about how things worked between Odin and himself. Leo had been in prison longer than either of them. He might understand, or he might not. The fairy had been mistreated for years, had had to barter things like that. After what had happened earlier in Leon's cell, maybe the smaller man believed that Odin was just some kind of monster. That Julian was being assaulted. That he had no choice. The inkwell didn't believe any of those things. But there was no way to explain it without admitting what he'd done, and he didn't want to see the disappointment on Leon's face when he told the smaller man how it had started. So Julian just didn't tell him anything. Which fit well, in some ways, because with Odin behaving as though nothing ever happened, there was nothing to tell. Even if, most mornings, he stood in this very shower and cleaned himself where he always felt the most sore, the most bruised. Washed away what Odin had left inside him. And they knew it, the leering vultures circling. Of course they knew it.
I asked you a question.
They just wanted to hear him say it.
Maybe it would have been better if he just answered. If he just told the other inmate what he wanted to hear, maybe none of it would have happened. But Julian's lower lip trembled just a little. No tears, just the product of being cold and anxious, feeling his chest tighten little by little around his lungs as he realized how sideways all of this could go. It was Odin who answered for him, and a second later everything was moving almost too fast for the inkwell to follow. He wasn't moving fast enough himself, wouldn't have been capable of pulling the other men off of the blonde even then. Could only position himself in front of Leon in a vague attempt to keep the fairy from being dragged to the wall as well. The werewolf was boxed in, and Julian couldn't see the familiar perched on Odin's chest, but he heard the threat well enough.
"Don't--"
He knew then.
He'd believed that Odin was invincible. Even after seeing the blonde get hurt fighting Hotts, even after witnessing his debilitating pain in the wake of a full moon, Julian had always thought, down at the center of him, that there was no way that the werewolf could ever really lose. That, as long as he was with Odin, in the end they would all be safe. As tense and terrible as prison could be. Despite the blonde's temper. Julian wasn't starting to trust the older man. He'd already pinned that trust to Odin's sleeve. Should have recognized it when he pulled Leon into it. He didn't just trust Odin with himself, but with far, far more than that. Someone else that he cared about.
The hand that caught his wrist made him wince, even though the grip wasn't so hard as to cause pain. Even in such a short time, he'd internalized what Odin told him before. That other people weren't allowed to touch him. It still happened, but with nowhere near the regularity of his time without the blonde, when every foot had been outstretched to kick or trip him. Every contact, then, had been a varying degree of pain. Odin was the one who stopped that. Odin was the one who kept Julian safe. Leon, too. But neither of them were fighters. The inkwell couldn't return the werewolf's protection, couldn't help him now, couldn't stop the inmate's other hand from latching onto the fairy. The azurette tried to wrench his own arm back, out of the hold the stranger had on him. They were talking about compensation, about maintaining Odin's reputation in exchange for his good behavior. And Julian thought he'd known, before, what it meant to be property in this place. He'd really thought he understood.
But no.
He didn't get it. Not completely. Offering himself to Odin, being protected, and sometimes held, and even-- briefly-- touched in return. The blonde's kindnesses weren't something Julian could expect from anyone else. He didn't want them from anyone else. Even if, by some twisted miracle, the sneering band of attackers didn't want to use him for a pass-around. He didn't want to change hands. He didn't want to leave Odin to be threatened or hurt. But Julian was a thing. And as much as he pulled at the grip on his wrist, it wasn't going to give.
"Odin--" He was staring past all the rest of them, eyes coming up to his cellmate's face. It happened every now and then. Usually they held a questioning look, seeking some kind of clue about what the werewolf expected from him, but this time the pupils were pulled into tiny points, swimming in the rusty irises. Fear and concern, tripping over one another to be the dominant expression. None of this was supposed to happen. It couldn't be allowed to happen.
And it didn't.
When the next figure came storming through, Julian didn't realize at first that it was another prisoner. His slow-moving mind told him that a guard was finally showing up. Better late than never, no matter what his cellmate had insisted about interacting with the prison staff. But then the ravenette dropped one of Odin's assailants to the shower floor. Turned to show a mouthful of pointed teeth. And the inkwell realized that it was a different branch of the law inside the prison. He'd always done his best to avoid interaction with any of the gangs, but he didn't have to be connected to know that the ghouls ran things. There were rumors, of course. But more clear was the wide berth most other groups seemed to give them. And Julian had another reason for feeling a sudden drop in his stomach even while his brain tried to process something like relief. He didn't know Cedric personally, but he'd seen the other mage. And just seeing him was enough to know how he was being treated by the people he clove to daily.
But Julian wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Especially when it had sharp teeth, and might decide to take a bite out of one or all of them once this was over. The second the inmate holding him and Leon let go, the inkwell pulled the fairy away, stepping slowly back, closer to the wall, curtaining the smaller man from view with his own slim frame. He'd forgotten, in the last handful of seconds, to be embarrassed. It was more important to get his brother somewhere at least slightly more defensible than the middle of the shower room, surrounded by threatening strangers. But the threat seemed to have passed. Even with what would have been effectively two on five, the other inmates skulked to the other end of the room.
He wanted to go to Odin, but the ghoul was there. Talking like they were the best of friends. Something about that. Something about the immediate implied familiarity. Julian didn't like it, and then instantly felt guilty. Would he like the alternative better? Like it more if the ravenette had just minded his own business and let things play out however they were already going to? In the outside world, he'd have approached and asked if the blonde was alright. But not here. Here, he was a thing, so he hung back, fingers combing through the wet mop of hair at the back of his head. The spot where he'd hit the bars. Waited, until Odin was done talking to someone who actually registered as another person.
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Posted: Wed May 24, 2017 1:25 am
Leon did his best to focus on Julian as they moved. If he tried to focus on too many other things at once - like internal dialogue, other inmates, or the aching of his wounds - everything became disorienting and blurry. So he stuck to the one narrative that had best served him over the years in prison; Keep close. Just stay close to the ones who are in charge of you. Slink along in the shadows of your babysitters and everything will be okay. Hurt will be minimal. So he stuck close to Julian, eyes down to mask as much disorientation as he could. He bumbled here and there, his equilibrium still teetering occasionally, and once or twice he needed Julians gentle pressure against his shoulders to remind him to move forward, or out of the way of oncoming inmates who might mistake a brushing of elbows as disrespect from someone so low on the social totem pole.
Leon had gotten over his dislike of the public showers a long time ago. When he'd first arrived, he'd gone without showering for days at a time just to avoid the space. His small, slim stature, combined with his obvious discomfort, often prompted other inmates to tease him in every manner there, both physical and verbal. The showers had become synonymous with violation for Leon. Until, of course, the alchemists took ownership of him. After that, people left him alone in the showers. He always stood between two men twice his size who, for the most part, were plenty content to leave him alone and keep other vultures off of him. He did whatever the alchemists asked of him, but he'd convinced himself that it was better to at least have some say in it. It was better to serve the few who would, in turn, defend him, rather than let himself become a public chewtoy. No one ever respected public property, after all. Why would they? But now his shadows were gone. That day, Leon dreaded stripping in the showers for a different reason. But in his hazy state, he felt there was no way around it. Realistically, he probably could have gotten away with telling Odin he didn't need to shower. but that didn't even occur to him. Instead, he simply thought,
"If he says something, he says somethine. Might as well get it over with..."
So, carefully, as not to become tangled with his own limbs, he shed the clean clothes he'd just put on, stripping down to bare ivory flesh, slender and soft even with the faint lines of muscle underneath. The bruise where Odin struck him was already spreading across his abdomen, blotching yellow, green, and blue, like a declaration painted over otherwise milk-white flesh. It was already the size of a baseball, and the edges would likely spread a little further across his stomach and ribs. But above that, now laid bare in front of the mage and the werewolf, were the bite marks he'd tried to conceal beneath his collar the day before. Angry raised red skin, swollen and irritated, ringed the neat line of puncture marks in the clear outline of a dogs teeth, right where his neck sloped into his shoulder. There was bruising there, too, older and on the verge of beginning to fade, but for the moment they were dark, purple and blue reaching around his neck and shoulder.
Leon stepped into the cold water, unflinching. Even the sensation of the icy water running over old wounds and new seemed numb and distant. His eyes went hazy, and he washed mostly based on muscle memory from his hands. His mind was far away, eyes glossy. He hardly used any soap at all. Fae tended to sweat very little, so too much tended to be rough on his skin, not to mention it stung in the still-healing punctures of the bites on his shoulder. He washed mechanically, wrapped up in the dancing of lights before his eyes and the nauseating spinning in his skull. He didn't even notice the other men in the room, or the sudden shift of tension in the air. He went on, rinsing and drying off, completely oblivious to the inmates circling around them like a pack of hungry predators, or vultures. He didn't even notice a man twice as big as himself leaning casually against the wall next to him, until he was poked.
For some reason, being poked was always a jarring thing for the fairy. Maybe it was just the old joke of 'Fairies bruise if you even poke them too hard? See?' that was almost always followed by someone jabbing him roughly with a finger and expecting him to laugh along with them about it. It was particularly jarring then, of course, because he was terribly startled. The numb, distant feeling snapped away, and he jumped half a foot with a yelp (unfortunately rather like a startled tiny dog). It was jarring, also, because the cut that Pike gave him just above one wing was still healing as well. It was hardly noticeable, amongst the other, much more formidable bruises on his neck and abdomen, nothing but a shallow scab and a faint yellow blotch of remaining bruise around it. But Leon was terrified of losing his wings. He'd nearly gone mad his first year in prison from being unable to fly alone. Finally, he still hadn't melded them all the way back into his back from when he'd been startled by Odin earlier. They sprang out, flaring behind him for a moment before he tucked them back defensively. He blinked, taking a step back. He didn't know when Odin had gotten between him and his personal space invader, but he cowered behind Odin eagerly, like a lamb hiding behind a shepherd. What was going on? What was happening? Even while his sensation came back sharper, his processing seemed to slow down. He couldn't discern the tension in the air, or the subtleties of what was happening around him. Even words escaped him. He squinted as the men made snide comments, unable to understand what the words they were stringing together meant. Dog...?
The scuffling was so brief, happened so quick. It seemed that by the time Leon had blinked twice, Odin had hurt himself, been pushed back by... something. What?
"Trouble. It's... trouble. Bad. No." He glanced between the men, eyes frantic. He wasn't sure what was happening but it was bad. He could tell that much. He was supposed to... do something, right? No, that was ridiculous. He could never do anything. What a silly idea. He was only ever a pawn, a spectator. The big kids on the playground sorted these things out. Fairies did not engage in prison politick. There were words. There was a hand around his wrist. Him and Julian both being moved away. He allowed himself to be tugged along easily, without the slightest hint of resistance.
"-cut up and shoved down the shower drain." Leons eyes went wide. Wait. ********, no, what was he thinking? This was exactly the thing he was supposed to prevent. Vlad. Dust. The dust. He could dust them. ********, wait, could he? He was still so weak. The alchemists had been running him hard. He needed a few more days, at least, before he could recover. He wasn't sure if he could produce enough dust, not for as many as there were. But he... something had to happen, right? Right?? Unsure, his wings slowly unfurled again. Most people didn't know. They forgot. They knew dust could make them feel good, but they didn't know what it could really do. If there was enough...
Then someone new stepped in, and one threatening body dropped easily and effortlessly, limp and listless. Oddly, Leons first thought was Pike. Of course it was Pike, who else? Whenever Leon was afraid, Pike was the one who came to rescue him. Pike always scared off the low life thugs who thought they could pinch and grab and drag. Like a lion scaring off hyenas. His vision blurred again and he stumbled in the other inmates grasp. No, he was wrong. He squinted, unable to make out the details on the newcomers face as he talked. He... talked a lot, actually. More than Pike. And even he could see that his hair wasn't red. His heart dropped, and he wasn't sure why. Pike was usually a man of few words, unless he was talking to Leon, and one or two other alchemists. He felt that silence usually conveyed more than a lot of talk. This guy just seemed to go on and on and on...
Suddenly everything was okay again. Leon was unhanded, and he again felt strangely lonely. Some dull part of him realized that he missed his shadows. Missed Pike. He blinked stupidly and then wrinkled his nose. Coughed, and rubbed his eyes. Something stank. It was faint. He probably imagined it. For the first time since the whole damn altercation had started, he finally spoke up, bleating like a brain-addled lamb,
"Um... wait... what?"
He hadn't even realized that he'd been shepherded back by Julian, hazily peering around the larger male in confusion.
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Posted: Mon May 29, 2017 6:37 pm
His stomach grew so goddamn tight. Odin could practically hear the tragic background music as he got to watch some other prisoner taking Julian and Leon away from him. The man was acting as though they were going for a walk in the park. Oh I’m just here to pick you up from your babysitter. Let’s go. Park time. It was like that. Like Odin never owned them in the first place. ”Thanks for the trade. What a natural businessman you are.” The inmate stated, playing Odin’s temper as though it were a string begging to be plucked.
”Odin—”
That wasn’t something Odin heard often. No, something he’d never heard before. Not during the day. His eyes immediately shot towards the set of golden eyes. While Julian looked terrified and worried, Odin’s gaze was completely blank. The werewolf always knew exactly what he wanted to do, and when he didn’t, he hit something. It happened with Leon and it happened with Hotts. Why wasn’t it happening now? Odin’s whole body seemed to shut down. Julian muttering his name flicked a switch, causing Odin’s brain to immediately start calculating his next move. Thinking ahead was a new concept for the werewolf. Were they going to re-shower with the two? What were they going to do afterwards? Julian was still his cellmate. He’d tear anyone’s throat out if they tried to come back for him without backup. Leon was their neighbor making it that much easier to defend the fae as well. These five couldn’t beat him. The most they could do was steal the two for one ******** day and then everything would go back to normal or turn into World War III every single day of their lives. Odin didn’t plan on letting them take Julian and Leon away from him permanently. No, he’d fight. He’d be ready for it too. Next time he’d be ready so whoever tried to so much as touch one of them would regret it more than anything they’d ever done in their life. Surely Julian already knew that, right? He still belonged to Odin.
There was no telling if some type of God existed or not, but for whatever reason every desperate thought and prayer Odin had flinging around in his head all seemed to be answered at once. Thump. The gentle noise as one of their bodies was laid against the tile surface. Slick black hair. Hale’s head rose and he was moving towards Odin pretty quick, getting rid of the familiar that had been holding him in place. Odin reached down to feel his chest as his eyes turned to stare at who he was and why he would do this. It was obvious with his sharpened teeth what he was. Ghoul.
”You’re gonna leave my showers before my men get here, or I’m gonna have an early breakfast outta your face, boy.” His showers? Who the ******** owned the showers? Why? How? Odin’s savior came over flinging the familiar away from him. Just like that, Odin was no longer a victim. Just one other on his side and suddenly the criminals were releasing Julian and Leon back to him. Odin still wanted to kill them. Destroy them for even thinking of doing what they had considered. Destroy them to pass a message along about what would happen if anyone bothered to try again. Cut them up and jam them down the shower drain. He was still so livid. So angry. His heart still felt still, and if it was beating, he damn well couldn’t feel it. All he could feel was the blood flushing through his system, hitting all his hot points telling him to destroy the pack that scurried off to the far corner.
Odin might’ve. He just might’ve before the arm was rested along his shoulder, something he would have lashed out if it were anyone else in the world. His eyes felt like they were shaking as he stared at the powerbar Hale had hanging besides his face. ”I see you working out in the yards often. You could use some extra.” He was still dealing with the aftermath of the adrenaline rush. Odin’s whole body wanted to shake as he focused towards Leon and Julian. Had they been hurt? As Odin’s monster finally stopped forcing his brain towards murder, he went calm. Hale beside him, Julian and Leon beside him. No threats. Not weak. Fine. He was fine. They were fine. What the ******** is that? His eyes shifted back towards the powerbar near to him. I want it. Odin quickly decided, unsure why a monstrous hunger seemed to appear out of nowhere. Those weren’t going to be the first words he said. He wasn’t a needy little child.
"Put it on my towel.” Odin nodded towards the area he dropped his things. He was still in control, he had to be. Now that he had Leon and Julian back things were back to normal. The ghoul moved away from Odin, tossing the bar towards the small pack of towels the three had lined up all neat. When he turned back around he couldn’t help but take note of the blood dripping down the werewolf’s arm. Odin could see him walking back making eye contact with the blood… The guy probably wanted to eat it or some sick s**t.
”Um… Wait… What?” The fae finally decided to rejoin the living. Odin shot Leon a small glance. The idiot was embarrassing him in front of Hale.
"Odin.” The werewolf felt the need to tell the ghoul with the slightest nod of his head. Julian had already said it. Already spoke that word when he was being shooed away and repeating his own name felt like an out-of-body experience. As though he was the one who had been pulled away moments ago. Perhaps from the trauma following Odin at the belief that the only important things could be taken from him so easily. It wasn’t quite what he wanted to say. Thanks. That was what Odin was trying to say to the other inmate. He really wanted to ask why Hale would put his neck out for their odd group. He wanted to know who the ghoul was and if they were ever going to be speaking again after this situation, but Odin was already acting as though he understood it all. He didn’t want to look foolish. Was offering to have the ghoul’s back if he needed it a stupid thing to say just now? "You in here alone?” The ghoul had mentioned something about others arriving, but he wasn’t sure if that was a random threat or not.
Of course, he needed to make it seem like he was a king within the walls. Odin snapped his finger looking directly at Julian’s direction. His prison wifey. The person in charge of doing all the inconvenient jobs Odin didn’t want to deal with. He tapped the handle and started up the shower closest to himself. "Clean the arm.” He snarled in the ink mage’s direction. Then he was looking back in Hale’s direction. "You can shower with us while you wait for your others.” Odin offered. It was the least he could do for the ghoul.
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Posted: Mon May 29, 2017 6:38 pm
He was half-expecting the werewolf to take the contact the wrong way. Hale knew how dangerous it was even touching one without permission. Meat. He was offering up the werewolf the thing it wanted most. Luckily, Odin didn’t lash out. Odin ordered Hale to place it on his towel as though he had a say in it. Hale had done two favors so far. One for the save, one for the finger. He didn’t seem very grateful, but that wasn’t a shock since werewolves are selfish little pricks to begin with. Hale moved over casually tossing it down at the three that obviously belonged to the pack. Hale was caught staring at Odin’s new wound.
Not that bad, but Hale had told Jackie not to hurt him. He just wanted the guy shooken up. Odin was going to turn into a future investment. If they got him into some full blown prison-war the werewolf could easily get himself in trouble or damaged beyond repair. When someone wanted a person to stop being a threat… People would get creative. ”Nice to meet you. I’m Hale. Ryder.”
”You in here alone?” The werewolf asked.
”No. I’m never alone.” Hale made sure to tell them. There was always one of Hale’s allies lurking just round the corners. Nobody was stupid enough to look at him as vulnerable at any given time. Speaking of which, Adam was wandering in around then. The caim glanced at the pack to see they were busy then quietly moved over to a showerhead by himself. When Hale was done with his business, he’d go to Adam when he was ready. Hale crossed his arms as the werewolf began demanding the ink mage clean the blood off. Hale’s attention went to the blue haired boy. It would have been much easier to simply do it himself. The werewolf was the type who liked to boss people around, eh? Noted.
”You can shower with us while you wait for your others.”
”No need.” The ghoul said carelessly tossing his wrist to the side. He turned away and began to move toward Adam. ”I’ll see you around.” Which was really the only thing Hale needed to say to be sure the three would pay more attention and learn he was a valuable player within the most influential prison gang in the joint at that point in time. When they learned that, Hale was sure Odin would put more of an effort into sticking closer and closer to him as time went on. Odin, Leon, and Julian would all be safe if they stayed on Hale’s good side. That’s all anyone wanted at the end of the day now wasn’t it?
Hale left the three alone as he returned back to Adam, the two jumping into a casual chat as they began to ignore Odin and his company. tab
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Posted: Wed May 31, 2017 6:49 am
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-- ❝i'm just so tired of waking up on the ground❞
He was almost unconscious of the way his hand rested on Leo's shoulder, lightly pressing the fairy back and away from everything that had been going on just seconds ago. Maintaining the slightest distance between his brother and the newcomer. Without thinking about it, the azurette was trying to screen the smaller man from view, positioning himself between as though that would stop anyone if they tried to reach for Leon. Reflexively, his thumb tapped against the fairy's shoulder, tense, but Julian didn't really register the contact-- he was still too cold, a little numb in the fingertips, sluggish from the shower. The inkwell had been in prison long enough not to look at anyone else, most of the time, for more than just a few uncertain seconds, which usually boiled down to not-at-all in the showers. The same was especially true when he glanced at the ivorette, who might as well be his brother. He'd seen one of the bite marks in passing, before it had time to blossom outward in a halo of bruising around the reddened punctures, and that had been troubling enough. Without clothing for cover, and without the distraction of an imminent threat, the bite mark stood out livid against skin even paler than Julian's own. And even without looking too low, he could see the darkening mark where Odin had struck the smaller man. For some reason, the azurette didn't want the ghoul to see any of it, even though there was no way to cover Leo completely. Didn't want him to think that Odin was somehow the cause of those bite marks, or that the bruising signaled that the fairy could be acceptably mistreated.
Julian turned his head, looking back to the werewolf as the newcomer passed back to the changing area with whatever it was he'd offered to Odin. The expression on the inkwell's face was one of unease. If they'd been anywhere else, he'd have put the though on his face for the blonde to read. Why did he bring food to the showers? It niggled at him, at the back of his mind, the fluttering of tiny, tired wings. He was grateful to be safe. Grateful not to be dragged down the hallway, away from his cellmate. Grateful not to be used by strangers. On that level, he was glad that the ghoul showed up when he did. But the arm the ravenette put around Odin's shoulder. The snack he offered so casually, like he'd just happened to be holding it when he came striding into the showers to oust the others. The inkwell wanted to believe that it was only a kindness. That, as he'd always asserted before he went into the beige box, people were good at their core. But he'd been learning other lessons.
Debts had to be repaid. Offers were almost always agreements.
He'd told Odin as much, the day he returned from work to find the Nutella on his pillow. The perils of accepting something without knowing the terms. Blindly signing on a dotted line. Anywhere else, he could have inked the concerns onto his face for Odin to read. But not here. Even if the ghoul's back was turned, there were the others across the room. They'd already tried to Leon and himself. The inkwell didn't want to flash another use for himself in front of them. He turned his head slightly, looking to Leon, hoping that the fairy would see the same odd detail that he had. Hoping that now, of all moments, the smaller male would suddenly be lucid again. Unlikely. Julian didn't know what the ivorette had taken, but its effects seemed to be lingering. That inability to focus, the disorientation-- those would be troubling even under the best of circumstances. And those, these were not.
You in here alone?
The werewolf was already going to offer the ghoul the right to stay near to them. Exchanging introductions. It should have made the mage happy, but it didn't. His chest was still tight with anxiety, mind fighting his own low body temperature, trying to come to terms with what had almost happened. They'd needed help, and Hale had helped them. That was supposed to be a good thing. Their tiny group needed benign ties with other inmates, but even Julian hadn't thought that other prisoners would just offer them assistance for nothing. Didn't think that anyone would barge in to keep them safe. Offer to share something from commissary. Banter back and forth with Odin for a few moments, like they were casual acquaintances.
Julian flinched back, a reflexive tensing of his entire body, when the blonde's tone changed so sharply, going from casual conversation with Hale to the sudden snarl of an order. Clean the arm. It had never really bothered him before. Why did it feel terrible now? Because Odin was accepting the other man so easily, acting like they were friends? Something about it stung, and the feeling stayed stuck at the back of Julian's throat, where the soreness of the night before still was. It was stupid. There was so much more to be worried about. Other things that were more important. Odin wasn't being mean to him. The werewolf was hurt. He was bleeding, and he wanted Julian to help him. That was all. Of course he sounded like that. He'd just had his life threatened. Could have been hurt badly. Of course he reacted positively to the person who'd actually been of use, the person who'd actually been able to help him. Julian had only been dragged away like baggage. Let all of it happen. At least Leon had some excuse-- the fairy could barely tell left from right at the moment. But even after everything Odin had done for him, the azurette hadn't even been able to break free. And now, he was just being sullen. Selfish. Inconsiderate. Resenting the blonde's sudden familiarity with the ghoul, like being a stranger meant that Hale had to be inherently bad. Getting jealous, because with Odin looking to the ravenette and Leon floating in a haze, Julian felt completely and utterly alone.
What was wrong with him?
Eyes down, he reluctantly stepped away from the fairy, giving his brother's shoulder a light pat. For reassurance, maybe. His hands gathered his own wet hair away from his shoulders, knotting the mane of it at the back of his neck to keep it from falling forward again. Gingerly, the mage reached out, catching Odin's wrist with both hands, but holding the underside only, keeping the blonde's forearm at a slight angle with the spread net of his own fingers. That way, the spray from the shower landed above the torn skin, water running along the surface of the werewolf's arm to rinse the blood away instead of jetting directly onto the injury. Maybe Odin had offered to let the ghoul shower with them, but it was Julian he was trusting to take care of him when he was hurt. So the azurette didn't look up, although for a moment he was sure that Hale was watching him. The inkwell kept his attention focused on cleaning the blood from his cellmate's skin, moving from the newest wound to his abraded knuckles, lightly shifting the digits as though to test whether they'd been broken. Odin had punched a wall before he ever had to contend with the spikes that had grown out of the other inmate's skin. Even without the blood, there would be discoloration. Swelling. Pain.
It could have been much worse. He was grateful that it wasn't. So before the ghoul wandered away, Julian said it. What Odin hadn't been able to. Never looked up, still tending to the blonde's arm. But he spoke, for once, loudly enough to be heard over the shower.
"Thank you."
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