Don't Leave Home

[apassingafternoon]

The day before Claude had shown up at the doorstep Nariko had been something of a mess. It was true that she had always been a mess, had been since her grandmother died, since the feeling of being abandoned had begun to eat away at her in a manner that Kaine couldn't do anything about. After all, Nariko didn't feel abandoned by her best friend, and Nariko wasn't here to confirm what was happening. In a sense Kaine didn't need it. They'd had an extra day, she had the morning with Bert to let him sleep in a little while before people came looking for him and he needed to be woken up. She took her place just behind, beside him, and tried to do her best.

But that feeling of being a mess, of something bad coming this way had been unbearable. It had forced her to make sure that Yonah was fed, all of her things were gathered up into one big bag and ... She found somewhere to hide her. It was off in lower town with Eunyce, Kaine had argued with her often but in this they seemed to be of the same mind. If something terrible happened Eunyce would take the baby back and run to Arcadia, if everything panned out Eunyce would come back with Yonah and they would figure out some way to move forward. Of course the younger cousin hadn't enjoyed the idea of leaving her family alone on the battlefield, especially with her skills, Eunyce had agreed. Though Kaine didn't feel right saying it out loud they both knew that baby was important to the one person they had in common. She was worth protecting above all else.

As the beating started up Kaine found herself relieved that soon Eunyce would be gone with baby Yonah who, despite how much she tried to avoid it, instantly reminded her of Nariko.

Kaine didn't know these people, didn't know Farson, the history, the need to fight this until the last instant.

She knew she wanted to live above everything else, and that she needed to find Bert.

Comments

[askthelookout]

"He's done stupider things in the past. No matter how Bert's acting, nothing can make us hate them." He smiled, sadly, and pushed a hand back through his short blonde hair. "I know you'll do the right thing, Kaine. And if that's what it comes to, aye, I'll do what I can to keep them back."

He considered for a moment, then stepped forwards again to pull her into a tight hug. When he pulled away, he'd gone very pink and wasn't making eye contact, but he cleared his throat and said, "Whatever happens, it happens. And I'm glad you were here for him before it. That's all." Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he looked over at Cuthbert and Jamie again, and sighed. "He's right. You shouldn't be up here, not unless you're planning on picking up a gun. Go wish him luck, and get back behind the lines for now. Alright?"

[apassingafternoon]

The hug surprised her but she fell into it easily, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing gently, as if they both might break from too much feeling.

"Alright." But she gave him a kiss on the cheek anyway, "Luck for you, too."

Then she resolved herself to going and finding Bert again, though she wasn't exactly looking forward to facing one of his more unbearable moods. But it couldn't really be helped. He was terrified but hardheaded, they all were in their own ways.

"Hey."

[askthelookout]

Bert was leaning against the top of the wall with Jamie at his side, the two of them passing a lit smoke between them and staring out at the army, which was no longer just on the horizon but well on their way to the city walls.

"Ten minutes," he said, turning to face her. "Maybe fifteen, but no more. You don't want to be here when they come." Taking one last drag of the cigarillo, he passed it back to Jamie and straightened up to limp over to her. He wasn't using a crutch any more, but his leg was still splinted, and it clearly caused him a lot of pain. "Did you get what you needed out of Al?"

[apassingafternoon]

"Are you implying that I should run?" Her tone was beyond sardonic, but she didn't need his answer. "I'm not going far, Bert." She would do more pain than use if she picked up a gun but Kaine needed to be where she could see everything. Better yet, she needed to be behind the army, or at least near the middle of it to pull off what she meant to do. "We discussed, and it went about as well as I could hope."

She looked down at his leg and sighed, he would be cornered too easily. How long would they have before it all went to shit.

"You don't love me, right?"

[askthelookout]

He hadn't expected that. It showed in the slight widening of his eyes, in the slow blink, in the way his whole body shifted. For a moment, unusually, he couldn't find words.

At last, he looked back over his shoulder, running his hand over his mouth. He wanted to tell her now wasn't the time, but... when was, if not now? They were going to die here. Did he really want the last thing she heard from him to be a lie?

"I don't know," he said, his voice low, his eyes serious. "I'm not Roland, to fall in love so hard and so fast I can't miss it. And I'm not Alain, to always know what I'm feeling." He took a deep breath, meeting her eyes. "I know I like you. I know you're beautiful, and I know you made me feel peace when I was at my worst, and I know I don't want any harm coming to you. If that's love to you, sure, I love you. But I don't fucking know. And I probably never will. Now either pick up a gun, or go and join the other close-range fighters down behind the wall."

[apassingafternoon]

He really had a remarkable ability to hurt ones feelings, but this time she needed it. The unbearable sting of it that almost made her eyes water, almost, the vague sensation that all of her blood was draining out of her body and leaving her cold. Yes, that would be enough to keep her focused and set on what she needed to do. It occurred to her a bit too late that he probably thought she was some lovesick woman trying to wring out anything she could. How fucking ironic.

"Wrong answer. You don't. And I don't, either."

And it was that simple.

Kaine turned and didn't go down behind the wall nor did she pick up a gun. She would do things as she always had - In her own way and on her own time, and that meant finding the right position to watch from. That task alone would probably take her nearly twenty minutes as it was, so she clamped down on any lingering emotions and started looking.

[askthelookout]

Bert watched her go, letting out a deep breath and closing his eyes. For a moment, he just stood there, until Alain came up and clasped his shoulder. Something wordless passed between them, and Bert nodded, turning back to face out over the plains.

They stood there together, the three of them, a tet without a dinh. The cigarillo in Jamie's hand burnt slowly down, until he dropped it and ground it under his heel, his face hard. Farson's men were closer now, close enough that the men on the wall could begin to make out individuals. The first row were muties, slow and shuffling, their skin a sick green. Beyond that, it was hard to see. Can-toi, taheen, and men merged into a great, dark mass, but the banners with that glaring scarlet eye... those were hard to miss.

Jamie raised his bah to his shoulder, and Alain unholstered his guns. Cuthbert looked between them, his heart feeling so tight and painful he thought it might burst, and took a deep breath as he unhitched Roland's horn from his belt. "Come-commala ka," he murmured, and smiled bitterly. "It's been a pleasure knowing you." Then, raising his voice. "Gunslingers! To arms! For Gilead and the White, for the faces of all your fathers... let's kill the bastards!"

The Horn of the Eld rang out sweet and clear, echoing off Gilead's damaged walls. Long and loud he sounded it, and as the thunder of gunfire began, the horn sounded above it all, a melodious, sustained note too strong for the throat that birthed it.

When he took the horn from his lips and began to fire, Cuthbert was laughing. It was hard and cold and wild, like the light in his eyes, but it was laughter nonetheless. "I'd like to see Roland wind it sweeter!" he shouted over the noise, and if there were tears in his eyes, well, they were only from that exertion. Could only be.

[apassingafternoon]

Right.

She didn't do a single thing. In the end this wasn't her fight and if she was involved in the thick of it, was hit too often and too fiercely then she really could die. It was a slim chance but not one that she was really willing to take. The remaining members of the Lunae clan were not to be outdone. They were close range fighters at heart and so they had been the ones to gather at the low wall, to meet every and any thing head on. They would go out chanting and screaming with pride. They would look as foolish to Kaine as Bert and his tet did.

As the end of a very long war raged, Kaine stayed right where she was on her perch, her expression blank and unemotional. They would lose, she just … Needed the right moment of their losing, for lack of a better way to put i.

[askthelookout]

Of the three young men standing at the centre of the wall, Jamie was the first to fall. He fired as he went down, his finger slipping on the trigger of his bah, but the shot went wild - as well it might, when the man who'd fired it had just had half his head blown away. Spattered with his friend's blood, struggling to keep his balance, Bert raised the horn to his lips and winded it again, just as loud as before. He was still smiling and laughing, even with Jamie's blood hot on his skin.

Beside him, Alain didn't even glance over as Jamie's body fell to the floor. He ducked to the side, reloading as he went, and went straight back to firing. There was a burnt, bloody streak in his blonde hair where a bullet had grazed just above his ear, but he was still standing, his usually placid face hard and his eyes cold.

They were gunslingers with the heat of battle on them. Neither of them, not even Alain, would have had the words for the hard, cold exhilaration of the fight, when everything closed down to the gunslinger and his enemy, and nothing else mattered. They moved with a speed and a grace that couldn't be matched at any other time, but also with a cold, single-minded intensity which was almost horrifying.

Farson's men were at the wall now, smashing themselves against Gilead's defenders. The air was thick with screams and blood and gunfire. Cuthbert sounded the horn one more time, but the sweet, dreadful note died out halfway as an arrow smashed into his belly.

He staggered. Cursed. Laughed, louder than ever, as he found his footing. It would take more than that. There was fight still in him yet.

[apassingafternoon]

"Here we go."

In truth she had never seen such carnage. She and Nariko had ripped through Spectres and the woman most deemed the more genial, giving one was the inherently bloodthirsty one. Even on her worst of days Kaine was nothing compared to Nariko. She didn't possess any sort of cruel need to know that, as they died, someone suffered. That said, she hoped that Jamie didn't feel a thing, that his last shot was a reflex and nothing more than that. It was a lot of hope but what remained truthful was that she had no more time. No more choice. He had a damn arrow in his stomach and how many more handfuls of seconds did they have before Alain fell? And then Bert, himself? She wasn't going to wait.

Rather than sit around and think about it, Kaine dove off from her perch, and right into the middle of the gray. One second to be shocked, another two react, some one or thing or nothing pointed at her but when Kaine screamed it was not a human sound. No, it was far too high pitched, and it was filled with suffering and pain. It didn't matter. She couldn't think, couldn't really feel anything. Maybe a spear dug into her leg, maybe a knife cut her, but for each wound she only howled again, that piercing, truly earsplitting noise and she found herself healed again. Nothing was getting in her way now. She cut through them with her bare hands, leapt on men, mutant, whatever, and ripped their heads off. Her body didn't feel like a thing with limbs anymore, it was glowing red and vibrant, her pupils nonexistent, in fact, there was no feature to her anymore. Just a moving, killing statue.

And an efficient one. She mowed through them like they were nothing and thought it was beyond her comprehension at the moment she was also a hell of a distraction.

[askthelookout]

On the top of the wall, Cuthbert stopped laughing, even stopped shooting, just stared. After a second, he looked at Alain, blinking. "...Did you know she could do that?"

"If I had," Alain said slowly, "do you think we would have lost Jamie?"

Bert continued to stare for a moment, but there was a grin slowly spreading across his face, even with the pain and the gutshot and Jamie lying dead beside them. "Well," he said, reloading and cocking his guns. "I guess this is our miracle. Come on. There's still an army out there."

And one woman, even one woman screaming like a banshee and fighting like a demon, was going to take a hell of a long time to take down thousands of men.

[apassingafternoon]

There was really no such thing as miracles. True, she was cutting men and things down in tens first, then twenties, but every good thing had its bad side. That her own wouldn't be clear for a while longer was something else entirely. Blood and limbs flew and that was beyond her, she ripped a spine out, flung it over her shoulder and took something to the back of her leg, ignored it and went after an archer, another, another, the protruding thing in Bert's stomach a consistent image in her addled brain. She may or may not have been particularly cruel in how they were taken out. Flung towards the back of the army, bashed into someone else … That sort of thing.

She forced through maybe a hundred (a hundred fifty) in a grand total of ten minutes, occasionally trailing back up closer to Bert and Alain, protecting them, or trying to in this state. And here was the bad side. Just as abruptly as she managed to induce this state Kaine fell right back out of it with nothing more than a thin groan. Her body swayed left and right but she tossed her head just the same and did it again. It hurt two times over, it would have been enough to make her cry in a normal state but there still wasn't enough time for that. Maybe later, assuming she wasn't dead.

For now it was enough to try and keep them off, to let Bert and Alain and whomever else was left manage what she didn't have the presence of mind to. And if it seemed that her already inhuman speed faltered, her body occasionally stopping and starting like a wind up toy then, well, they were just paying too much attention to her anyway.

[askthelookout]

Bert saw it, and it cut through the cold fury of battle and the hot madness of his laughter. His eyes followed her, even as he emptied his guns, each shot striking home.

When he paused to holster his guns and draw his slingshot, he looked at Alain, his smile gone. "She's going to die out there," he said, almost casually, but not so casually that his ka-mate couldn't hear the tension in his voice. The moment he started towards the steps down from the wall, Alain caught his arm.

"From what she said, if you go near her in that state, you're like to die too."

Bert looked back at him with what might almost have been scorn, if it weren't so thinly layered over grief. "As opposed to what, Al?" He paused a moment to fire a steel ball directly through a slow mutant's eye. "Staying up here and dying five minutes later?"

Shaking Alain's hand off his shoulder, he unslung the horn from his belt and tossed it to his friend. "Sound it loud when the time comes, Al. Here's hoping it's for a victory call." His grin paper-thin and hard, he clapped Alain on the shoulder, and started down towards the fighting.

[apassingafternoon]

I probably didn't get enough sleep last night. That was the idle thought that ran through her head. She wasn't usually this worn out after a few rounds and nothing else occurred to her. This had to be the reason and it was a stupid one, her own fucking fault. Linear thought wasn't necessarily possible but she could tackle things in the order of importance: Kill, heal, check on Bert and Ala-- Why was Alain alone? It was probably a curious thing, watching her go entirely still as her brain attempted to untangle itself from the gibberish that it had become. A mess of different languages and expressions, so overwhelmed with options that it was impossible to make a real decision. Until she saw Bert. At first she thought it a mirage, a fever dream of hers that stemmed from every lie she had spoken. But since it wasn't that her body startled back into it's normal existence, though there was a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, and she looked terribly pale.

"What are you doing here!" It wasn't a question so much as an expression of unbridled, horrified confusion. "What about this situation makes you think it's a good idea to join me?" That part was a real, genuine question. "Go back!"

What the fuck was wrong with him, squandering everything she had said! Kaine hadn't put herself through the stress of lying her ass off just so that he could come back down here and get himself killed away.

[askthelookout]

Bert gritted his teeth, firing off three shots in quick succession at the three taheen cautiously moving in on her. All three went down, steel shot lodged in their skulls. "What's this about good ideas?" he shouted back, reloading his slingshot and holding it ready. "Have you met me?"

And he laughed, but his eyes were hard as he loosed another shot, catching a slow mutant in the hand. "There's a thousand or more out here trying to kill us. How long do you think you're going to last when whatever you're doing runs out? Because, let me tell you, watching you out here as a mere squishy human like the rest of us..." He paused for a split second, wheeling to fire again, taking a man in the eye. "...Well, it's not something I'd care to watch. So if you'd go back to glowing and killing things, I'd appreciate it."

[apassingafternoon]

... He had an interesting point there, and she hated it. Hated it enough to laugh right along with him but where Bert's eyes were hard, her own were pained. He wasn't supposed to do this, she had tried to irritate him enough to keep him away, couldn't he see that? Of course it hadn't worked, he just went and did whatever he wanted, even if it didn't make a damn bit of sense. And it would probably get him killed, now, even with her help.

But trying was a better route to go than standing around and having an existential crisis over it. So she glowed. And went about killing things again.

There still wasn't any thinking in it and despite what Alain might have thought, she didn't go after Cuthbert. This wasn't what she had been truly concerned with because while it was exhausting and pushed her already confused excuse of a body, it was more a matter of exerting strength. What scared her was the occasional flash of darkness, the sense of unreality and being pushed from her own limbs. Every time she came back those marks were on her skin, growing in size.

[askthelookout]

Cuthbert smiled, hard and sharp, and rested back against the wall, pausing in his barrage just long enough to break off the arrow still sticking out of his belly. It was getting in the way, and he was too pumped with adrenaline to really feel it. Besides, it wasn't like he expected to live long enough for it to get infected.

Up on the wall, Alain sounded the horn again to signal the second wave. Cuthbert hooted like a boy at play, laughing, and went right back to firing. "Come on, you maggots! Fatherless sons of bitches! Come choke on it!"

One eye, though, was always on Kaine, keeping careful watch for the moment her strength failed her. That distraction was, in all probability, part of the reason he didn't dodge in time to avoid the swipe of a knife across his face. Blinking blood out of his eyes, he drew his gun in one smooth motion, firing point-blank through his attacker's chest, and laughed. "That the best you've got?"

[apassingafternoon]

She didn't notice at first. There should have been some romantic instinct that went off in her, an indication that he was hurt and in pain and she needed to help. But there wasn't. This time she pushed herself longer and harder, was stronger for it. The moment she left this again it would hurt, her bones might snap under invisible weight and she might give a terribly human scream, but that wouldn't be enough to stop her. Nothing would.

After ripping something in two, and impaling another five on a spear she turned and caught sight of him, felt the tinge of blood in the air. Which was a funny thing because if there was one constant of war it was blood, everyone's, hers. But she knew Cuthbert's, somehow, and that was a vaguely terrifying new ability.

With another one of those howls she cleared out those nearest to him just to be careful. Without reverting to normal Kaine pushed her hand into his chest so hard that it threatened to slam him back into the wall. Losing the arrow in his stomach and even regaining his eyesight wouldn't feel good, it had been described as hot liquid being seared onto muscle, but at least it would fix him. It would also give her the exact same wounds, a transfer rather than a real miracle, but it was better than nothing.

[askthelookout]

Cuthbert let out a choked little cry at the sudden, unexpected agony, almost dropping his weapons. Up on the ramparts, Alain took a half-step back, paling as he hadn't throughout the rest of the battle, and had to force himself to focus again.

Staggering back, Bert blinked, put his hand to the wound no longer on his stomach. For a moment, pure relief thundered through him - he was only human, after all, and he didn't want to die that way, gutshot like a poorly-butchered animal. But then he saw the wound on her, and he cried out again, this time in anger.

"Don't you dare, Kaine! Don't you dare!"

[apassingafternoon]

She couldn't see. She blinked, tossed her head but the process of it couldn't be sped up any. It would just take a few seconds for her to be able to see again, to make up for what he had dealt with, but she would be fine. It was difficult to tell if he understood that, or if he was just angry at her for the act of it in general. Really, what else had he expected?

There was no speaking like this and Kaine wouldn't risk going back to normal yet. She shook her head at Bert and motioned to the fight around them. Pay attention. She had already gone through all this goddamned trouble, was he really going to insist on wasting her effort?

Probably.

She turned and went right back to it even as her body chugged along, failed to clear up her vision or the ache in her stomach. But it didn't matter. She had resigned herself to his anger and her own death, because he didn't get to do that on his own. That wasn't being maybe-heroes together.

[askthelookout]

There was a kind of resentment in his eyes, but he did as he was told, turning back to the battle, his slingshot back in his hands. But his attention didn't entirely leave her, even then. As before, he kept her in his periphery, for all that Cort's voice was shouting at him for it.

Given just how frustrated he was, though - with her, with Roland, with this whole bloody mess - it was satisfying beyond belief to fall back into that oasis of calm fury that was being a gunslinger at war. His attention slid away from her, and he fought as he had before - fiercely, and gracefully, and with no thought to anything else.

[apassingafternoon]

If resentment was the last of what he felt for her before she died then it only meant her plan worked. Kaine went on for as long as she could, suffered shots and stabbings and arrows, but didn't give in until she was forced to. Again, and for the final time, she returned to normal. Her body felt feverish and angry, ready to collapse on itself and the only reason she stood was determination. A nap wouldn't have been so bad.

She had eliminated maybe ... Maybe just a third of them or so this whole time? God, that was so fucking insane. If she'd had her sword, if Nariko was here, they could have had knocked out half of these fucks. But Nariko wasn't here. Roland wasn't here. It was just them, just Kaine, who was suddenly very afraid of dying, if such a thing was even possible for her. Despite how little sense it made she tried to look for Alain. She didn't know what the fuck the Touch was, if it was mind reading or not, if it was something else entirely, but he had said it best: Everyone was just doing what they had to. But if he could keep Bert alive, if he could just tell Roland and Nariko to stop being so fucking stupid and love each other, then that was all she really needed. Why hadn't she thought to tell him all of that before?

Oh, well.

Kaine vomitted black ooze and felt her bones before she heard it. Her skin shifted unnaturally, lengthened in a way it shouldn't have until her human body became an amorphous thing that eventually burst into tiny black pieces. Those same pieces hung in the air like black snow before they converged inward, swirled, and formed the massive, unmistakable frame of a Spectre far larger than any one that Claude could have ever summoned or even dreamed up.

There was no howling like a banshee, she - it - roared, raising arms the wide of Gilead as a whole up into the air in some thing that could have been mistaken for a war cry. In reality it was nothing but pain, pain, and more pain on top. It stomped forward, crushing everything, bending down awkwardly and opening a gaping maw to close around anyone who couldn't run away fast enough.

Kaine was gone, and that was why Alain needed to take everyone who mattered and run. They could win a war but they couldn't handle this.

[askthelookout]

Cuthbert watched all this with an equanimity which seemed frankly impossible. Admittedly, that was mostly because he didn't have many options. Even without an arrow in his belly, he was in no state to run, and fighting hardly seemed like an option in this case.

Instead, tucking his slingshot back into his belt, he shouted back over his shoulder, "Fall back! Back to the inner walls!"

And that left him, and the dead. And even then, he laughed, on the edge of hysteria. Of all the ways he'd expected to die today, this hadn't even made the list.

"Come-commala ka," he said again, under his breath, and started to hobble towards the Spectre, or rather towards the routing army beyond it. There was still work to do.

[atouchofka]

Alain didn't run, either - but nor did he stop to stare. He'd felt a sharp twinge of what was about to happen, and with it, the places had fallen into place.

He hadn't known why he'd brought the book with him. It hadn't been a conscious thought; it had been a passing gut feeling, but he'd learnt long ago to trust those. And so there it was, buried in his pack behind the wall, wrapped in oilcloth and carefully stored. He cursed himself for being so careful now... and yet it seemed to jump into his hand as easily as his guns did, and just as drawing his guns did, opening the book made everything else fall away, not gone but distant. He had time. There was always time.

"Cry pardon, Bert," he said quietly, and began to read. He'd cautioned Kaine against saving Bert, said she didn't know what it would cost him. Well, nobody knew what it would cost more than Alain did. But their tet had always been destined to break today. Jamie's cold body was proof of that. Let it be in anger, if it had to be. Only let something of it survive.

That was what he was thinking, heart and soul, as he aimed the spell at them both. Pull Kaine away, take her home, hope she would be reborn. But leave Bert here to die? Now that it came to it, he couldn't.

He'd never felt magic like this before. It wasn't the Touch, wasn't even the Prim-strength of Marten or the orb. This was something older and more delicate, something that wove with him and responded to him, not with brute force and strength, but with an echo of himself that seemed to grow stronger, until it was the voice and he the echo.

He wouldn't remember it afterwards, and wouldn't have understood it if he had, but the last thought to go through his mind before he pitched forward, letting the darkness take him, was It sounds like roses.

[apassingafternoon]

Mystic was very aptly named. It was a village made of trees, where people created their homes by gutting out the base of immense, thick trees. The very small town with a population no greater than fifty people was constantly blanketed in a thick mist, the only phenomena that preceded the trees. It was a strange place to be absolutely sure, but all together benign. Many would have considered Alain and Cuthbert lucky to be found by someone as open-minded and giving as Trish. She had found the door in the middle of town and helpfully taken them back to her house.

So that was where they would wake. They had to share a bed because Trish lived alone and was unmarried, but it was comfortable and their weapons were near. Far as she could have said they were unharmed, just in great need of sleep. And that was just fine with her, it was the middle of the day and she hardly needed sleep, so she waited nearby, in her chair with her stitching in her lap in a small little home with no walls, that existed in a tree.

Not quite like a rose but better than nothing at all.