There was something about standing at the top of a dark abyss excited Bradley. It was a feeling deep in his chest that sent chills down his limbs and set his nerves on fire. He remembered this feeling; it was one he was incredibly aware of and at home with. He’d cliff dove, leapt from ledges and two story buildings just to send it surging through his flesh. It was a feeling his father had once told him would get him killed. Bradley was still alive, so clearly his relationship with his adrenaline and excitement wasn’t lethal.

He descended the stairs into the dark, a wide grin spreading on his face as gooseflesh covered his arms and legs and up his neck. He missed this feeling greatly it seemed, and was going to enjoy it as long as he could.

The young man reached the last step and spilled into the small room. The light hurt his eyes for a moment before the brown orbs turned to the wall. He sucked in a breath and stared at the wall of glowing runes, stretching from end to end.

“Woah… ” he breathed, barely above a whisper. He took it in and stood in silence, wanting to imprint this on his memory. The room seemed to hum and barely heard words floated around his ears. It was so odd, yet he felt himself taking it at face value (as he often did) and just accepting it. He’d woken up in a pod after who knows how many years of sleep after all. Very Captain America of him, really.

He ran his fingers over the wall, tracing the runes with his fingers. He felt little to nothing from them; a feeling of a head shake in a no from one with daggers, a whispered ‘not you’ from a shotgun. His fingers flickered over the image of a tri-bladed gauntlet and a larger, though still whispered, impression filled his ears - no, mind.

“…Another one of the cousins. Great…” The whisper was soft, and tired sounding as if the rune, or weapon he guessed, was tired of people touching it. He got the impression of a growl and very much a “move along, boy, you’re too much of a whelp for me” and he pulled his hand away.

“Not that one then.”

[[ Well obviously not. ]]

The voice, so clear and so female startled Brad so much he nearly fell into the wall itself. Unlike the others, this voice sounded as though they were standing right next to him. He heard the voice sigh, a sound that belied a “Oh great, another nest idiot,” whatever a nest idiot was.

[[ What you humans call a “blundering idiot.” ]] replied the voice and gave him the impression that she was picking her nails.

“Hey! I am not a blundering idiot. You startled me by just… just… inserting your voice in my head!” He stared at the wall, searching for the rune that was speaking to him. Fingers flitted over the stones, searching for something that would tell him it was her.

[[ Look, it’s hard claiming my hunter when so many want his attention. I have to be loud. ]] The voice grew louder as his hand moved and he pressed his other palm to the wall, doubling his search.

“Your hunter, is it now? I didn’t realize when they said the weapon chooses the hunter they meant you claimed us.” Mirth filled his voice, a smirk on his face. He felt her huff, as if she was crossing her arms. It was rather adorable, to be honest.

[[ Yes, you are Mine, Bradley Evans and if you would just find me I will be Yours. ]] Huh, she got rather serious at times when she wanted to. Good to know. Bradley made to retort when his fingers hit a rune and something pulsed through the mental link. HIs thumbs traced the shape of a scythe and he paused. He was sure this was the right rune for her voice was the loudest here, but if he was wrong… If he pulled out the wrong weapon… What would that mean for her? What would that mean for him? Would he go back up those stairs, see Eva and Wilson and have to tell them he pulled out the wrong one? Would he be put back in that pod, deemed unready? Would he—

[[ Mine. ]]

Her voice, so strong and so commanding, jolted him out of his thoughts and he pulled out the rune. He took a few steps back and stared at the rune. Just as he was about to say “okay now what?” it glowed brighter and shifted in his hands. From the long end stretched out a long scythe blade, something like four or five feet in length. The short end shifted and shot out into a shaft. He felt her stretch in his mind, as if she’d been cramped for too long. The large scythe fell into his hands and he stared at it. Fingers traced along the curves of the head; he recognized the spade shape, though the curly attachment to the shaft and blade seemed hazardous. The blade itself seemed to drip blood from the many cracks but felt incredibly stable. She was gorgeous and deadly all at once .

Do you have a name, weapon of mine? he asked her, shifting her in his hands and going through motions he’d once seen in comics.

[[ I am Yzalin, and before you ask, I am a blood dragon, that is why my blade bleeds. If you concentrate, you can desummon me. It will not sever our connection. ]] He stared at her, realizing that yes she was a bit unwieldy to just have out all the time. He focused his thoughts and felt the weight of her disappear from his hands. A new weight took over his left earlobe. He ran his fingers over the earring, cursing slightly at the pain. Really shoulda gotten his ears pierced on that dare…

[[ Now now, let’s not keep your cousins waiting. I’m sure they’d like to meet me as well, though you’ll have to speak for me. ]]

“Wait… cousins? My cousins aren’t here.” She sighed and dredged up images of Wilson and Eva.

[[ These cousins. They haven’t changed mu— BRADLEY WHAT ARE YOU DOI—— ]]

Eyes wide, he took the stairs two at a time, ignoring Yzalin’s protesting. His cousins…. his cousins were alive! And he talked to them! And they knew him! And the bastards didn’t say anything!

Hugs were in order.

WC: 1114