dvy's writing dump

Dvyniai

lambe mihi culum <3
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Invitation Status
  1. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. One post per week
  2. Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Transgender
  4. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
supernatural, fantasy, scifi, romance, magic, apocalyptic
what do you do when you have hundreds of other things you should be writing?
write something utterly random that no one cares about!

sometimes i get an excessive amount of muse for a char, and it's gotta go somewhere.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯

thought i'd show it off i guess.
they're usually not edited though. sorta just word-vomited out and then forgotten about lmao. be prepared for a ton of typos.

if you're taking a peek i'd prefer if you didn't post here, but reactions are welcome!
not all drabbles will be canon to a character's roleplay plot or backstory.
 
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DRAGON

siu - canon (roughly 996 BCE) - 347 words - 1/19/20
older drabble originally shared on discord, featuring six year old siu!

"Yah! You can't cross this bridge!"

"Oh yeah? Says who?" Siu demanded. A stick, his imaginary sword, was in his hand, while he stood on a wooden plank across from his friend Guryi. Guryi replied with something about the emperor, to which Siu was pretty sure he exclaimed, 'well I poop on the emperor!' - an especially scandalous thing for a six year old to say at the time. It set the rest of them laughing hysterically.

He's not sure quite how it happened, but soon after that they were play-fighting. Dramatically thrusting and dodging while their other friend, Woong, and Siu's older sister, Hyuna, cheered him on. At one point Guryi nearly shoved Siu off the plank and into the stream it was placed over. It was while he wobbled on the edge, gripping onto Guryi's arm for dear life, that his older brother found them.

"Hyuna-yah! Siu-yah!" he called, making all four kids freeze. Guryi accidentally let go of Siu, who tumbled into the stream with a shriek. Startled, Dansae just stared at them for a moment. And then they were all laughing, while Siu pouted up at the lot of them

As Dansae reached down to pull his little brother out of the stream, the three kids who were not soaked to the bone pestered him to join their game.

"Come on orabeoni!" Hyuna pleaded. "We're playing 'Rescue the Queen'. You'll like it, it's fun!"

"I take it you're the queen?" Dansae asked, gaze dropping to her hands which were sloppily tied with twine.

'Of course she's the queen,' someone had said, he didn't remember who. 'She's the only girl.'

In the end it was Siu's best set of puppy-dog eyes along with his drowned-kitten appearance that convinced Dansae to join them. They wanted him to play the dragon, to which he protested at first, because - aigoo, he was fifteen, he wasn't playing a dragon.

Yet, hours later, when Siu's mother came looking, she found them shrieking and laughing as they ran through the woods. Dansae chased after them, roaring, mercilessly tickling anyone he caught.
 

SEANCE

siu & hanjae - canon (late summer 1925) - way too many words - 7/13/20
literally just an excuse for angst. read at your own risk lmao.
(also contains some spoilers abt siu’s backstory.)


Siu hated this time of year.

The night started out like any other, and so Siu could pretend it was. He woke around 7pm, lingering in bed till the Thirst drove him out. Fixed himself a warm mug of AB+, perching a safe distance away from the window to watch the remnants of the sunset. Once finished, he cleaned out his cup before heading out to his greenhouse to check on the plants. He weeded, replanted a few of the seedlings, and when he had stalled for long enough it was almost midnight. As he headed back to the house, a flash of silver caught his eye, breaking the illusion. This night was not like any other.

There, standing on the edge where the forest met his lawn, stood the stag. It was pale and ghostly, so transparent you could see the trees through it’s form. Beautiful.

“Hey,” he breathed, slowly raising a hand in greeting. It was rare the stag showed itself, even to him. It bowed its head in return. As it did, a piece of its enormous rack could be seen missing. The very same piece pulsed softly, where it rested against Siu’s throat. Then, just like that, it was gone.

If Siu stood there, staring at the place where the stag had been for a lot longer than necessary no one but the creek and trees had to know.

There was a rapping sound at his door, when Siu finally slipped inside. He paused in his step, surprised. He wasn’t expecting any visitors, and his wards would alert him to anyone who passed through. Unless -

“Hanjae?”

“Hey, hyung!” said Hanjae brightly, breezing straight by Siu and into the cabin. Shocked, Siu let him. It had been a very long time since they had last seen each other, and the last time they had written had to have been over a year ago.

The other vampire headed straight for the kitchen. Siu drifted after him. Hanjae set a bottle of blood-wine Siu only just noticed he had been holding, down on the counter. When he spared it a glance, he noticed it was his favorite Carmenere.

He felt his long-dead heart give a painful thump.

“I found this Carmenere when we were unpacking and I just knew you’d love it. I’m surprised you didn’t See me coming, I’ve been planning it for a while. Where are your wine glasses?” Hanjae asked, even as he started to open up all of Siu’s cabinets to look for himself. “Ah, nevermind! Aish, why do you have so many? Are you having parties I don’t know about?”

Siu ignored him, leaning against the counter, palms pressed into the edge. “What… what are you doing here?” His Korean felt a little rusty; Hanjae was the only one he used it with anymore.

Hanjae threw a strained smile over his shoulder, the only indicator he was anything other than comfortable as he brought over two glasses. “What? I can’t stop by to visit my sire?”

When all Siu did was stare at him, he fidgeted, scratching at the back of his neck. “I just… I didn’t want you to have to be alone. Not today,” he sighed before straightening. “Now, where’s your wine opener?”

Pursing his lips, Siu gestured to the drawer at Hanjae’s left, who let out a cry of triumph when he pulled it out. He let Hanjae’s mindless chatter wash over him, as he talked about everything and yet nothing while pouring them each a generous glass of blood-wine. He didn’t expect Siu to respond with more than the occasional hum, and for that Siu was grateful. It was somewhat comforting in its familiarity, even when it began to bring up memories Siu rather wouldn’t dwell on. But that was what a day like today was about, wasn’t it? Memories. More than memories, when it came to people like them.

“Is he here?” he couldn’t help but cut in, interrupting Hanjae’s story about his boyfriend’s new dog that hated him.

Hanjae blinked, expression sobering. “Um…”

The glance he cast over Siu’s shoulder gave him away. Siu couldn’t resist looking for himself, even if he knew he would see nothing. He let out a shaky breath; closed his eyes against the rush of pain.

“Hyung -” Hanjae started softly.

Don’t,” Siu snapped. Something ugly, and dark was twisting up in his chest. Something that had to be released. “What are you really doing here, Hanjae?”

“I already told you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Hanjae’s lips pressed into a thin line. He was quiet for a moment, politely pretending not to hear Siu’s racing heart or heavy breaths. “I lost him too, you know,” he eventually said.

“Did you?” Siu couldn’t help but ask. “You get to - get to see him. Every day.”

“And you think that’s a good thing?” Hanjae snapped back, making Siu flinch. His gaze slid over Siu’s shoulder again, and he sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “I can never let him go.”

“I can’t either,” Siu whispered.

Siu stared at the blood-wine in his glass as he twirled it around. Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t strained. Contemplative, perhaps. Definitely more than a bit sad.

Suddenly Hanjae downed the rest of his glass and stood. “Come on.”

“What? Where are we going?” Siu asked, as Hanjae grabbed his hand and dragged him from his seat.

“We’re going to go do a seance,” Hanjae told him with a wink.




Siu felt a bit lost, watching Hanjae pick through his spell room, gathering all the ingredients for his seance in his arms. Occasionally he’d sniff something, or mutter to himself, and a couple of times asked Siu to hold something only to snatch it back. It’s not that Siu had never done a seance before - he had done quite a few over the years, some of them with Hanjae actually. But it had been a long time, and neither was it his specialty. He was a seer and a dreamwalker, not a medium like Hanjae.

“Okay!” Hanjae exclaimed, finally turning to him. His enthusiasm waned a bit. “Where’s your…”

Siu bit his lip, hesitating briefly before gesturing with his head for Hanjae to follow him.

One of the first things he had set up, moving into this house, had been his shrine. It wasn’t only dedicated to Yooseok, but with how much of it was dominated by his fledgling, it may as well have been. The entirety of the attic made up his bedroom, with the shrine taking up one corner. He felt self-conscious, letting Hanjae see it. But his second fledgling only smiled gently, expression warm as he took it in.

Hanjae hummed to himself as he set up the seance, and Siu wasn’t sure if it was part of the ritual or just Hanjae being Hanjae. He perched on the edge of his bed, polishing off the last of his glass. He had gone down to get the bottle and was finishing his third glass when Hanjae finally called him over.

There was a rune drawn onto the floor in chalk, which Hanjae sat in the center of. Siu felt a little tipsier than he thought he was originally, picking his way clumsily across it to sit across from him. Hanjae held out his hands for Siu to take, pulling him a little closer once he had till their knees were touching.

“Will I be able to see him?” Siu asked quietly, glancing up at his fledgling.

Hanjae swiped one thumb over the back of Siu’s hand. “Do you want to?” he asked, just as quiet.

Gods, did he? Siu nibbled at his lip. Hanjae watched him quietly. Like he could read Siu’s mind, he said, “It’s not your fault, you know that right?”

Siu flinched, jerking back like Hanjae had burned him but he didn’t let Siu pull away, holding fast to his hands. That dark, ugly, twisting thing was back - it had never left. It wound tight around his chest, pressing hard against his heart, making it hard to breathe, to speak. “Don’t,” Siu growled. “Don’t, Hanjae.”

Hanjae set his jaw stubbornly. “It’s not.” he sucked in a deep breath, glancing briefly to the side. With a flash of pain, Siu realized that must’ve been where Yooseok was standing.

“He doesn’t blame you,” Hanjae continued. “Hyung, he could never blame you.”

“Stop,” Siu whimpered, voice cracking in the middle. The dark thing pressed harder, his vision growing watery around the edges. He tried to pull his hands away but Hanjae wouldn’t let him. Realistically he knew he was stronger than Hanjae, that he could break away easily if he really wanted to. But a part of him didn’t want to. “Stop. It was my fault. I let her - I was the one that-that…”

“She used compulsion, hyung.” Hanjae’s gaze was soft when Siu finally glanced up to meet his eyes. “Nari was a fucking monster. Don’t let her take this from you too.”

The watery edges spread to take over the entirety of his vision. Siu couldn’t help the little sniffle that left him. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay.”

Hanjae gave his hands one last squeeze before loosening his grip. Siu closed his eyes as Hanjae started chant, feeling the magic wash over him. Even after Hanjae had stopped, he kept them closed.

“Siu hyung,” Hanjae said softly, squeezing his hands again. "Open your eyes."

Siu shook his head. He couldn’t. It was too much, he couldn’t and what if -

“Appa,”
whispered a different voice. Siu felt his heart stop.

His eyes flew open without his permission, the dark thing in his chest winding tighter until the pressure was overflowing and he was sobbing. “Yooseok-ah.”

Sitting next to him, cross-legged just like him and Hanjae, was the vampire he Turned, the shaman he mentored, the boy he raised. Unlike how the stag had been, he had color to his face, and was opaque enough Siu could almost forget he was dead. His smile was sad as he watched his sire sob like a child.

“You never called me appa,” was the first thing Siu could think to say once he had regained control, wiping at his face.

Yooseok huffed, “I did so.”

“Fine,” Siu snorted. “Rarely.”

I never heard you call him appa,” Hanjae chimed in, making Siu giggle and Yooseok squawk indignantly.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” Yooseok pouted in Hanjae’s direction, before turning back to Siu. An expression Siu didn’t recognize came over his face.

“I should have,” Yooseok said. “Called you appa more. You were more of a father to me than my real one ever was.”

Siu’s breath hitched. “Stop,” he whined, waving at his face like a white woman in the Victorian era. “You’re going to make me cry again.”

The other two laughed, and after a moment he joined in.

“I miss this,” Siu whispered.

Hanjae nodded, and Yooseok whispered, “Me too.”

“We only have a little bit longer,” Hanjae said. Siu cut him a glance, noticing the sweat starting to form at his temples.

“Hyung,” Yooseok said, drawing Siu’s attention back to him. “Hanjae-yah was right earlier. I could never blame you.”

There was that dark thing, curling at his throat again. “Yooseok -”

“No, listen to me.” Yooseok reached out, a distressed look coming over his face momentarily when his hand passed right through Siu’s. He lifted it, till it hovered there, giving the illusion they were touching. “I don’t blame you. I know it wasn’t your fault. Nari wanted to hurt you, and she used me to do it.”

Siu shook his head quickly, struggling to swallow around the lump in his throat even as he felt a bit of that dark vine uncurl itself. “But - but I - I was supposed to protect you. And instead -”

“If you hadn’t, she would have made someone else,” Yooseok said slowly. “I’m glad it was you.”

A horrible choked sound squeezed itself out of Siu’s throat. “Yoo.”

“I don’t blame you,” Yooseok repeated firmly. “It’s not your fault. Say it.” When Siu shook his head, he repeated, “Say it.”

Siu sniffed, and wiped at his face, realizing he had started crying again. “It’s not my fault,” he said weakly.

“Again.”

“It’s not my fault,” he said, stronger this time. When he looked up to see Yooseok’s bright smile, he felt the last of the ugly darkness dissipate.

“Guys,” Hanjae warned, voice strained. Yooseok glanced in his direction but Siu wouldn’t look away from his fledgling’s face. He was starting to fade at the edges, and the sight made Siu ache. He wasn’t - wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Not again.

When Yooseok looked back at him, Siu’s heart skipped a beat. “Siu,” he said, and for the first time there was an unrecognizable glint to his eyes. It was a knowing glint, of the unfathomable, timeless wisdom of the dead. “Hang in there. There are those that need you.”

“What?” Siu asked breathlessly but Yooseok blinked and that look was gone from his eyes just as fast as it had come. He was truly fading now. Through his chest, Siu could see the light of the candles burning behind him.

“I love you,” Yooseok said, his voice sounding faded too.

“I love you more,” Siu answered automatically, making Yooseok smile. Beside him, Hanjae let out a soft groan, although whether it was at their antics or because he was struggling to hold onto the ritual that was unclear.

“No, I love you more,” Yooseok retorted. And Siu watched as he faded for good. He couldn’t help himself - he reached out as if trying to grab ahold of him, as if trying to pull him back. His hand passed straight through thin air. Only then did he burst into tears.

It hurt, it really fucking hurt, but Siu noticed that even as he was wracked with sobs, even as he still had no clue why Hanjae was really there, he felt the lightest he had felt since Yooseok's death. He didn't realize how much he had been carrying, how heavy that guilt had been.

“Asshole,” he managed to grit out between the sobs.

Hanjae let out a surprised little laugh. “What?”

“Disappearing like that. Thinking he gets the last word,” Siu huffed, lifting the shoulder of his shirt to scrub at his face because fuck it at this point. “I’m the one who raised him. I love him more.”

Bewildered, Hanjae was quiet for a long moment before he dissolved into hysterical laughter. It wasn’t long till Siu was joining in.

“He says he loves you more.”

“Shut the fuck up.”
 
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APPLE

eris - canon (roughly 20ish years prior to IC) - 2100 words - 7/15/20
this was supposed to be soft.
the origin of eris’s name. nsfw (only the last bit - in spoilers)


The memory of an android is remarkable. Every recorded detail crisp and clear, utterly perfect, always available for instant recall, untouched by the test of time.

And yet, there are things that Eris does not remember. He doesn’t miss them, whatever these memories are. After all, how can you miss what you don’t know is missing?

Though there is a - wisp of something, sometimes. A golden thread, drifting through the breeze, trailing off into the void, there one moment and gone before he can catch hold of it. He notices it, and just as easily brushes it aside.

But if he could, he would remember -

Warmth.





Dr. Shen’s breath leaves a cloud in the air when he exhales. IPU-Chameleon021 watches him. After a moment, it opens its mouth and breathes out. When nothing happens, it tries again. It crinkles it’s nose, the way Dr. Jerome does when he’s frustrated.

It hears a little laugh beside it. “Are you trying to make your breath condense?”

IPU-Chameleon021 turns to look at its creator. Takes in the crinkles next to his eyes, the curve of his lips. Amusement. “Yes?”

There’s that laugh again. IPU-Chameleon021 has long since decided it likes that sound.

“Condensation is when the warm water vapor in our breath, meets the cold air and forms water droplets in the air,” Dr. Shen explains. He exhales again to demonstrate. “But you don’t produce water vapor, so your breath doesn’t condense.”

“Oh,” says IPU-Chameleon021, already filing that away as yet another thing that sets it apart from human beings. There were always new things to learn, and Dr. Shen was always teaching. Patient. That’s the word to describe him. Dr. Shen was always patient with IPU-Chameleon021.

The light changes and Dr. Shen starts walking again, crossing the street. IPU-Chameleon021 follows. “Where are we going?” it asks, realizing for the first time that it does not know.

Dr. Shen’s eyes twinkle when he looks over his shoulder. “It’s a surprise.”

“Surprise,” it repeats thoughtfully. “I’ve never been to a surprise.”

Dr. Shen laughs. “No, Leo, I don’t suppose you have.”

Leo. Dr. Shen is always calling it that. He says that a nickname is more personable than IPU-Chameleon021, although that still doesn’t explain why he does it. None of the other doctors call him that. They mostly call it by it’s name, IPU-Chameleon021. Although sometimes they shorten it to just Chameleon. Dr. Jerome called it Tin Can occasionally. Fuck Toy, when he was angry.

Leo. IPU-Chameleon021 supposes it likes it. Likes when Dr. Shen calls it Leo. It doesn’t know why. It makes a note to ask him about it later. After they visit the surprise.

When Dr. Shen stops, Leo stops just a step behind. “Close your eyes,” Dr. Shen says. His voice is - warm. That’s a good descriptor. It obeys. Let’s Dr. Shen take its hand, and lead it forward. They go up some stairs, and Dr. Shen steps away for a moment, before they’re moving again. Leo can tell they enter a building, but the change in temperature.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Leo does. Expecting Dr. Shen to be standing in front of it, it blinks in bewilderment at the wide, open space in front of it. There are people milling about, near the walls, drifting from one - oh.

Leo let’s out a little gasp. “Art,” it breathes.

There is art stationed along the walls, big paintings, and little paintings, some in elaborate framings while others are just plain canvas. In some corners, there are cases that hold sculptures, and other 3D pieces. There’s a hush to the atmosphere, a blanket of quiet contemplation covering the space.

Since Leo had been built, one year prior, it had been interested in paintings. The old, oil-on-canvas paintings, not the new-age digital drawings. The Chameleon Project was meant to emulate humanity, and what was more human than art? Not all the other doctors agreed, Dr. Jean in particular thought it was stupid - as she was apt to say every time she caught Leo looking at it - but Dr. Shen had been adamant. He had been showing Leo music, movies, poetry, and books since it was 'little', but the type of art Leo was most interested in was paintings.

It could stare at them for hours, had a whole collection of favorite painters, and had an entire folder on Dr. Shen’s computer dedicated to its favorite works. Dr. Shen had mentioned a place where you could go and look at paintings in person, but Leo had never once thought it would get to actually go.

Leo feels - feels some emotion well up in its chest that it doesn’t have a name for yet.

“Do you like your surprise?” Dr Shen asks quietly. Like. That’s a word Leo is still trying to learn the meaning of. But it thinks -

“More than like,” Leo says, a little crinkle forming between its eyebrows. It’s the face Dr. Jean makes when she’s thinking really hard.

When Dr. Shen doesn’t say anything right away, Leo turns to look at him. “Did I say something wrong?” it asks, the crinkle in its brow easing, but its lips turning downwards. Not into a full frown, not like when Dr. Jerome is angry, or when Dr. Jean is upset. But like when Dr. Shen is - worried.

That’s not the face that Dr. Shen is making when Leo looks at him though. There’s a gentle smile gracing his lips, and the crinkles are deeper, kinder. His eyes - they’re warm, like his voice, where they’re looking at Leo. Fond. It makes that emotion in Leo’s chest well stronger.

“No, you didn’t say anything wrong,” Dr. Shen assures him. “Love is what’s stronger than like. Is that what you mean? Love?”

“Love,” Leo repeats, turning the word over in its mouth. It feels right. For some reason it can’t find it’s voice to say it again, so it nods. Dr. Shen’s smile widens, Leo copying it a moment later. His grip on Leo’s hand tightens.

“Come on, let’s go find the da Vinci section.”

They spend the rest of the day in the art museum - as Dr. Shen later tells it this place is called. Modeled after the art museums of old that they used to have on Earth, and now have replicated here on Mars. They’re reaching the last room, picking their way through the artwork. Leo insists on giving each one the time they’re due but one painting, in particular, gives him pause. The Golden Apple of Discord, the nameplate reads.

“What is this one about?” it asks, head tilted to the side like Dr. Shen does when he’s studying Leo and doesn’t think it notices. Dr. Shen looks over from the painting he was observing.

“Oh, that’s based off a Greek story.” He moves to stand beside Leo. “The king of the gods, Zeus, holds a banquet for the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, but he doesn’t invite Eris.” He points to each of the characters depicted in the painting as he mentions them.

“She grows angry, so she throws a golden apple with ‘For the Fairest’ inscribed on it. It starts a fight between the goddesses about who really is the fairest and it eventually starts a war.”

“So Eris was evil?” Leo asks after a moment.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think so.” Dr. Shen tilts his head to the side. “She didn’t give them that apple for no reason. I think her actions were justified. Anyways, it wasn’t really her that started the war.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No. Aphrodite stole a king’s wife to bribe the judge. That was what started the war. Eris may have thrown them the apple, but she didn’t force the goddesses to do anything. Their own vanity and… disregard for others, I guess, was all them.”

There was - there was something about this story that Leo couldn’t let go off. Sensing it was turning something over and over in it’s mind, Dr. Shen gave Leo a curious glance. Leo would have told him what it was thinking, would have told him everything, but it didn’t have the words for this. Instead it asked -

“Was Eris a god?”

“She was the goddess of strife, discord and - chaos, I think.”

“Chaos,” Leo repeated.

“Some of her followers thought she represented freedom.”

Leo hums, thoughtfully, but before it can ask any more questions, a robotic voice announces over the com systems: “The museum will be closing in ten minutes.”

Dr. Shen stretches his arms over his head with a low groan, then lifts his wrist to take a look at his watch. “Damn, we’ve been here all day. We should probably get back before Jeanie gets too mad at me for stealing you away this long.”

As they are leaving, Leo watches a smaller human embrace a taller one. A child hugging his father, it thinks.

Leo hesitates on the front steps, and it takes a moment for Dr. Shen to notice that its stopped. He turns, giving Leo a questioning look.

“Thank you,” Leo says softly, noting how Dr. Shen looks surprised. “I had - fun. I had fun today.”

“Of cour-” Dr. Shen starts to say before he’s cut off by Leo suddenly hugging him. Dr. Shen’s hands hover over Leo’s back in surprise, before he tugs it closer.

But, like sand through a sieve, Eris doesn’t remember the warmth of his voice as he whispers, “You’re welcome”.





It’s nine years later, when IPU-Chameleon021 kills that man and his two friends.

It didn’t plan anything, not like how the tabloids love to claim. How could it plan? When it had no idea that Kaleb Ezra would be hosting his bachelor’s party at Areola 51 until he’s nine inches deep? So no, IPU-Chameleon021 didn’t plan to kill Kaleb Ezra and his friends, it didn’t even want to, not really. To this day, it still doesn’t know what was different about Kaleb’s visit. Perhaps it had just - had enough.

They took turns fucking IPU-Chameleon021’s holes - but it was it’s pussy that was saved for last. Kaleb held it down by the throat, as he fucked it deep and slow. During nights like these, IPU-Chameleon021 thought of - nothing. Stared up at whoever it’s user was and let its mind be blissfully blank. But this night, this night all it could think of was Eris.

The Greek goddess of strife, discord, chaos - and freedom.

When Kaleb leaned down to kiss IPU-Chameleon021, it lifted its arms to wrap around his neck. And then it wrenched his head to the side till it snapped.

It took the other two a surprisingly long time to realize what had happened. In their defense, it had never happened before - and probably would never happen again. IPU’s, or Integrated Pleasure Units, have what’s supposed to be a fail-safe strip of coding that prohibits them from even harming a human being, let alone killing one. Yet IPU-Chameleon021 had done just that.

By the time they started screaming, it had already crushed the head of one like a nut under his fist, and was digging his fingers into the soft abdomen of the other.

It’s the screaming that startles IPU-Chameleon021, and it sinks in what’s its just done. It shatters the window - one that isn’t barred, because why would an IPU ever try to escape? - and even though it knows it isn’t going to make it far, it still tries.

And it’s caught. And it’s put to sleep. And throughout it all, it thinks of Eris.





It’s surprised, when it opens its eyes.

‘Heaven?’ it thinks, but then that’s stupid. Only things that were once living, can get to go to heaven. And IPU-Chameleon021 was never living.

The woman it meets introduces herself as Lilliane Silvera, the leader of the mercenary group Vante. She’s it’s new owner.

Vante tinkers around in it’s coding and IPU-Chameleon021 finds a strength it hasn’t known before. It trains with other androids, and even some humans, until it can hit a target dead-on, til he can sneak his way into any fortress, until he can kill just as easily as he draws breath. He finds himself. And he thinks, perhaps he might be evil. But then he is reminded that it is not evil if it’s justified.

When Silvera asks him what his code name is, because IPU-Chameleon021 is a mouthful to say in a rush, he considers Chameleon, or a shortened version. Leo, maybe. But then he thinks of a golden thread.

He tilts his head to the side. “Eris,” he tells her. “Call me Eris.”
 

RABBIT & THE SNARE

rue - spin-off - 5900 words - 5/10/21
short story i wrote for class featuring rue


“Everything alright?”

The question startles Rue badly enough he nearly drops his phone, as Jesse sidles up, pressing up against his back and wrapping his arms around his middle. Automatically, Rue leans back against his chest. He had been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t even heard Jesse enter the room. On the counter in front of him, sits his bowl of cereal, and the open jug of milk from where he had been in the middle of making breakfast before he had gotten the call.

He considers lying. Then he says, “No.” Then he says, “I’ve got to go.”

“What?” Jesse asks, as Rue slips out of his hold, and heads back towards their bedroom. “Rue.”

He’s halfway through shoving a random handful of clothes into his suitcase when Jesse catches up with him. “What the fuck? Where are you going?”

“Littlefork, Minnesota.”

“Uh,” Jesse says, when Rue doesn’t elaborate further than that. He stands in the doorway, watching as Rue shoves another handful into the suitcase, before moving on to the bathroom. He’s pretty sure that he’s grabbing some of Jesse’s things in his haste, but Jesse doesn’t say anything about it so he doesn’t either. “Okay. I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Rue says immediately. He dumps the toiletries into the suitcase then zips it shut. Jesse ignores him, already grabbing some of his own things from the closet, although he’s slightly more careful about it.

“No,” Rue repeats. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Why?” Jesse asks, as he carries over the shirts he’s picked out. He goes to unzip the suitcase Rue just zipped, but Rue slaps his hand away. Jesse scowls at him. Rue scowls back.

“It’s just not.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.” Jesse reaches for the suitcase again, and this time Rue catches his hand. Jesse sighs, and looks up at him. “Give me a better answer, and I’ll let you go. Otherwise I’m coming with you.”

Rue doesn’t have a better answer though. Not one that Jesse would understand. As his silence stretches on, Jesse’s gaze softens. He twists his hand around until their fingers are intertwined. “Hey, whatever’s going on, you can tell me. We’re partners, remember? Where you go, I go.”

He remembers. He remembers getting wine drunk, when their relationship had first started to get serious. After a certain point in the night, Rue, normally not one for PDA, had refused to leave Jesse’s lap. While he was leaning sleepily against Jesse’s chest, he had hooked their pinkies together and made him promise. That they would be together forever. That they would never leave the other behind. That they were partners, partners in everything.

And when he got a full-ride to Cornell a few months later, despite it being hours and hours away, Jesse had come with him.

“My family,” Rue says, before he can chicken out. “My family lives in Littlefork.”

“Okay,” Jesse says, and he does a good job of keeping the surprise that Rue knows is there, out of his voice. “I still want to come.”

Rue bites his lip. Rubs at his forehead. And then he nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Rue lets go of his hand, unzips the suitcase for him, and takes a step back. “Hurry up and get packed before I change my mind.”

He can still hear Jesse’s grumbling about his horrible packing skills as he leaves the room. There’s a closet, at the end of the hallway, and at the very top of the shelf sits a lockbox that’s been gathering dust. He pulls it down, and slips it into a bag before Jesse can see it.

“Ready!” Jesse calls, dragging the suitcase out of their bedroom.

Rue turns to give him a wan smile. “Let’s go. It’s a 20 hour drive.”

“Shit, seriously?”

He clicks his tongue, as he leads the way out to his car. “You’re the one that wanted to come.”

----​

Rue sometimes wonders if it would have been better, or worse, if he remembered his birth parents.

He, and all his siblings were adopted, at various ages and from various sources. The Arianrod’s adopted children like they were collectibles. Often treated them like collectibles. To be prepped, and polished, to be shown off. Although unlike collectibles, they were not expected to sit on a shelf, gathering dust.

Rue was the first, and he was too young to remember it. Same with his brothers Sebastien, and Angus, and his sister Barbara. But Hasina, she was ten when she was adopted, and her transition had been rough.

He remembers sitting in the front lounge with his other siblings when he was eleven, waiting for their parents to bring her home. Angus was coloring in a book on the coffee table, while Barbara pretended to feed a baby doll. Despite being the oldest, and the one who should be babysitting them, Sebastien sat in the corner away from them all, doing something on his phone.

“What are you drawing?” Rue asked Angus. He held it up. “Emilia!” he said proudly.

Rue told him it was good, because that’s what you’re supposed to tell a four-year old who shows you a drawing. But he doubted their new sister was a giant purple blob, with green hair and yellow sticks for arms and legs.

There was the distinct sound of a car coming up the drive. Angus was on his feet in seconds, rushing towards the door, before Rue caught him and brought him back to sit in the living room. Barbara was still more interested in her doll, and while Sebastien tried to feign indifference, the way he glanced towards the door every few seconds when he didn’t think Rue was paying attention, gave him away.

Emilia was not, in fact, a purple blob with yellow sticks for arms. Instead she was a girl, about the same size as Rue, maybe a little shorter, with long black hair tied back into a ponytail and dark skin. Not as dark as Angus or Barbara, but much darker than Rue and Sebastien. She was pretty, for a girl. Though there was a deep frown on her face.

“Kids,” said their father, who stood behind the girl. “This is Emilia. Emilia this is -”

“That’s not my name!” she snapped, and with nowhere to run but further into the house, she did just that, disappearing up the stairs.

Their mother scoffed, and made to follow her. “Ungrateful little bi -”

“Let her go,” their father said, placing a hand on her arm. “We can talk to her later.”

Rue found her, an hour or so later, in his bedroom, sitting on his windowsill. She didn’t look up, even as he walked over to stand next to her. “What’s your name?” he asked her. “Your real one.”

“Hasina,” she said. She was much calmer now. There was still a frown on her face, but it was less angry. Maybe sad. “What’s yours?”

“Reuben.”

“Is that your real name?”

“I think so.” He paused. “I don’t know.”

She looked up at him, and crinkled her nose. “They’re not your real parents, are they? You don’t look like them.”

“No, I guess I don’t,” he said with a shrug. He sat down on the windowsill next to her. “But they’re the only parents I have.”

Her breath fogged the window as she looked out into the yard, a cloud of grey against the green. “I miss them,” she said softly, and Rue knew she didn’t mean the Arianrods.

They sat like that, for a long time, until their parents found them. Later, they would come up with nicknames to call each other. Rue didn’t want to call her Emilia, like their parents did, but he couldn’t call her Hasina either, as the few times he tried they got in trouble. After some trial and error, they ended up going by their favorite animals, and eventually Angus and Barbara ended up going by nicknames as well. Or, like in the case of Rue, if their favorite animal didn’t make for a good nickname, they went by their second, or third.

Sebastien never wanted to join in, deeming himself “too old”. That didn’t stop them from calling him ‘Bear’ though.

Sometimes he’d catch Hasina staring out the window, with that sad frown on her face. And he thought maybe it wasn’t so bad he didn’t remember his birth parents after all. He had the ones he had. Even if he rather he hadn’t.

----​

The ride is actually a little over 20 hours long, which they split over three days, and take turns driving. Not once does Jesse pressure Rue into telling him what’s going on, even as they get closer and closer to their destination. Jesse’s always been like that, letting Rue come to him on his own time, his own terms. It’s one of the reasons they work so well.

And Rue puts it off, as long as possible. Isn’t sure how to explain, or how much to tell. Since they’ve started dating, Rue has mentioned his family very little. Jesse knows the basics: that he was adopted, that they don’t get along, him and his family, that he was disowned and that he only talks to a few of them, now. But Rue has never gone into depth, and for good reason. There are things Jesse wouldn’t understand, couldn’t understand, and the closer they get, the more he regrets letting Jesse come along.

“My mother’s sick,” he blurts out, finally, as they’re an hour out from Littlefork.

“Oh,” says Jesse, sounding half asleep and is just waking up from a nap so it probably wasn’t the greatest time to spring this on him but if he doesn’t do it now he won’t do it all. He clears his throat before continuing, “I’m sorry. I, uh, assume it must be bad.”

“Yeah,” Rue says. He pauses a moment. His grip tightens on the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t look in Jesse’s direction, where he’s sprawled in the passenger’s seat next to him. “She’s - she’s dying.”

“Shit, Rue.” Jesse sits up straighter to place his hand on Rue’s thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and means it. “I just…”

Jesse doesn’t rush him, as he struggles to put it into words. Just squeezes his thigh gently, a reminder that he’s there.

How can he put it into words? In a way that doesn’t make him sound like a complete sociopath? Jesse, who hasn’t had a fight with his parents worse than over who would do the dishes, couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to have such complicated feelings for the people who raised you. Couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be glad that your mother is dying.

“I’m fine,” is what he finally settles on. “I don’t care, really. And I know that makes me a horrible -“

“It doesn’t,” Jesse interrupts firmly. When Rue spares him a glance, all he sees is open acceptance on his face. “She hurt you. You don’t owe her any feelings.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, and turns back to the road.

Jesse squeezes his thigh again. “You’re not a bad person Rue.”

Throat tight, he nods, and tries not to feel guilty over it. One day. They would stay one day, max, and then this would be over, and Jesse would be none the wiser about the things Rue has done.

He may not be a bad person, but he certainly isn’t a good one.

----​

He told himself he would stop, when he left his parent’s. But it’s never as easy as that.

Rue met Jesse at a gay night club, their sophomore year of college. It was popular among the queer students at the University of Minnesota, for looking the other way when fake IDs came through the door.

It was a Friday night. He had just gotten off the phone with Hasina, they had had another fight, and earlier that day he had failed another test. If he failed one more, he would risk losing his scholarship, and that pressure was getting to him. So his plan was to get wasted as fuck. Maybe go home with someone. It didn’t quite work out that way though.

He doesn’t remember, really, what about the situation caught his attention. Maybe it was the way Jesse was so disastrously drunk he could barely stand up straight, sloshing his beer all over the counter a few feet away, as another man leaned into his space. Maybe it was the clumsy way he tried to push him away, with a heavily slurred “No, stop, no thank you,” even as he laughed it off. Maybe it was the look on the other man’s face, the glint in his eye, how the way he held himself made the hair begin to stand straight up on the back of Rue’s neck in a conditioned fear response.

Before he was conscious of the fact he was moving, he found himself between the two. “Hey, man. Take a hint. He told you to stop.”

The man’s smile was sharp, canines glinting in the low light. “I don’t think this has anything to do with you.”

Rue didn’t say anything more. Instead he simply braced one hand against the bar, a barrier between him and the man behind him. While he was taller, and broader than Rue, he didn’t back down, waiting till he scoffed, and disappeared deeper into the bar.

A weight draped itself over his back. “My hero,” he slurred in Rue’s ear. Rue cast his eyes skyward.

He contemplated leaving him, but the guy was such a mess it didn’t feel right to. Plus, Rue would only admit this to himself later, he was kinda cute. Probably would be much cuter when he was a bit more sober. It took some wheedling, and a hell of a lot more patience than Rue thought he possessed, before he learned that his name was Jesse, that no he was not here with anyone else (“But I could be here with you,” he’d simpered, with a wink. At least, Rue had assumed it was a wink, as he’d done it with both eyes) and after promising to exchange numbers, he was able to get Jesse’s address to order him an Uber.

He felt eyes on his back, as he helped Jesse from the club.

Jesse would text him, the next morning, horribly embarrassed about the whole ordeal, but they would go out for coffee because, for whatever reason, Rue found himself helplessly endeared. And the rest, as they say, was history.

Once he had gotten Jesse safely into his Uber home, he went back inside and found the man from before, the one who had tried to accost Jesse. All it took to get him to follow Rue out into the alley, was a couple of bats of his lashes, and a tilt of his hips.

“You know, this wasn’t very smart,” he purred. In the slanted moonlight of the alleyway, his eyes glowed. His grip turned bruising on Rue’s wrist, nails lengthening into claws, just as Rue was palming the silver dagger he had promised himself was only for self-defense. In a way, it was still self-defense, wasn’t it?

Rue made sure to drag the body into the darkest corner of the alleyway before calling Hasina. She picked up after the second ring. “If the first thing out of your mouth isn’t an apology, I’m hanging up.”

“Um -“

“Alright. Goodbye.”

“Wait!” he blurted, before glancing around to make sure he hadn’t drawn too much attention. “I’m sorry, Mouse. I was a dick earlier,” he said, quieter.

“And?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And you’re the best, most wonderful sister ever for putting up with my bullshit.”

“That wasn’t what I was looking for, but that’s good too.”

He couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped him, before he quickly sobered. This wasn’t going to be fun. “Listen, Mouse, I need your help.”

“I’ll be there in a few,” she said, after he had explained the situation. Then she hung up.

He couldn’t look her in the eye, as he helped her get the body into her car, unwilling to confront the disappointment he would surely see there. Unwilling to see the same glow, when the light from the almost-full moon hit them right.

He had known that he didn’t have to go back. That he didn’t have to find that man again. He could have left it alone. He told himself he would stop, when he left his parent’s.

But the thing about killing is that there’s a certain addictive thrill that makes it hard to.

----​

They reach Littlefork late in the afternoon on the third day, and almost immediately stop at a gas station so Jesse can use the bathroom. While he’s gone, Rue sneaks the lockbox out of the trunk, and pulls out the key he keeps on him at all times. He’s in the passenger seat before Jesse gets back, a knife hidden in his boot, and a pistol strapped to his waist.

He could never be too safe, when it came to his family.

His parents live on the edge of town, on a massive estate that’s been passed through the family over the generations. Roughly 1,000 acres of land, the house itself taking up about 8,000 square feet. Jesse whistles softly, as they’re buzzed through the front gates. Rue can only manage a weak smile. He feels like puking. He doesn’t want to be back here.

“Rue!” his sister shrieks as soon as he steps out of the car, throwing herself into his arms. He can’t help but laugh, as he catches her. “Hey, Birdy.”

Angus is much more cautious, eyeing Jesse warily. “Who’s this?”

“Uh, hi, I’m Jesse,” he says with a little wave.

“My boyfriend,” Rue supplies. “We met at school.” He catches Angus’s eye, and gives him a look. It’s a look that says, He isn’t a part of this life, and I don’t want him to be. He gets a nod in return.

Angus has grown a lot since he left, Barbara too. They’re no longer the scrawny kids he remembers. Barbara is almost seventeen now, and Angus is taller than him.

“That’s funny. I thought you were fucking Emilia,” drawls a voice from the doorway, and Rue looks up to see Sebastien, leaning against the frame. He looks older too. The scar marring his face looks darker, uglier than Rue remembers.

Both Barbara and Angus flinch. Rue draws in a deep breath, holds it for a count of three, and then lets it out. Instead of rising to the bait, he turns to Angus. “Will you show him around? I’m going to go see mom,” he says, nodding towards Jesse.

“Yeah,” Angus says, casting Sebastien a glance, before gesturing for Jesse to follow him. Jesse looks back over his shoulder at Rue, and he gives him a reassuring nod.

“I’ll go with them,” Barbara says.

Rue knows he’ll be in good hands, but he still can’t help it. “Take care of him,” he calls after them. Barbara flashes him a smile.

Sebastien’s gaze is heavy on them, as they round the corner and disappear into the backyard.

“Touch a hair on his head, and I’ll kill you,” Rue promises, as he passes Sebastien to enter the house.

“You shouldn’t have brought him,” is all Sebastien says. And Rue knows that, he does. He shouldn’t have brought Jesse, doesn’t know why he did.

Maybe it’s because a part of him didn’t want to come alone.

----​

The first rule of hunting, is that there is no such thing as an innocent werewolf. It’s in their nature to kill. Even if they haven’t killed yet, it’s only a matter of time before they do. They are a pest to be exterminated, a disease to be cured, a curse to be purged.

The second rule, is never tarnish the Arianrod name. The Arianrods were an old, and proud family of hunters that stretched back generations. They were a figurehead in their profession, and as members of the family they had to handle themselves with dignity.

The third is never get bitten, and most importantly, never, ever go through the change.

He used to think that they were the good guys. Protecting the innocent from the things that go bump in the night. For as long as he could, he held on to that. It was easy, sometimes. But the world isn’t as black and white as his parents made it seem.

----​

As soon as he enters the room, he wants to leave.

His parents bedroom is the same as he remembers it. There’s a matching set of mahogany dressers and an armoire, and the walls are painted a deep green, so dark it’s almost black. The only spot of light, in the darkness of the décor, are the white curtains framing the windows. A large, four-poster bed dominates the room, pressed against the far wall. This is where his mother lays, propped up on pillows, looking so small and frail. So unlike herself.

It’s clear that the windows have not been opened in a while. There’s a cloying scent of flowers, of mothballs, and faintly, of bodily fluids. It’s suffocating. He thinks about opening the windows, but watching as his mother folds forward into a coughing fit.

“So. You came,” his father says, where he’s seated at her bedside. He’s got one hand braced on the bed, the other at his hip, where Rue knows a gun is hidden.

“Harry,” his mother chastises, in that sharp voice of hers that he remembers. “Enough. I asked for him.”

His father doesn’t relax, however, and she lightly slaps his arm. “Harry. Leave us.”

The way his father passes him on his way out of the room reminds him eerily of how he had threatened Sebastien just moments earlier. He tries not to think about that too hard.

“Come here, Reuben,” his mother says, gesturing to the chair his father had just vacated.

He doesn’t move. “You look like shit.”

“Yes, I am dying. Come sit. I want to speak with you.” She gestures to the chair again.

He doesn’t move. “Why?”

“Can’t a dying mother speak with her son one last time?”

You haven’t spoken to me in six years, he wants to say. You haven’t cared about me for six years. Last time we saw each other you tried to kill me and now you want to talk?

Rue doesn’t say any of that though. He doesn’t say anything.

Her arm drops back down to her side. “I regret it, you know,” she says, after a long moment of silence. “Letting you go. You were one of our best.”

For a moment there, he had felt surprise, before it fell, because of course that’s what his mother is more concerned about. And she doesn’t mention Hasina, although that he’s not surprised about. His lip curls. “Don’t let Sebastien hear you say that.”

“Ah, Sebastien,” she sighs.“He’s a good hunter. But he doesn’t have the natural instinct for it. Not like you.” The blue of her eyes, even as they swim in jaundiced yellow, pierce him where he stands. “How has civilian life been treating you?”

“Fine,” he says curtly. If the amused tilt of her lips is anything to go by, she doesn’t believe him. It itches beneath his skin, and he looks away. “I’m surprised you’re still here,” he says, as a way to change the subject. “Thought you would have wanted to go out with dignity, and all that.”

His mother sighs again. “Yes, well, I asked your father and Sebastien to do it, but well…”

And suddenly, Rue gets it. Why he’s here. Why she asked for him. He wants to laugh, and inexplicably, he wants to cry. He does neither. “So, you thought I would kill you?” he asks, because he wants to be sure. “Does father know about this?”

“No, but I assume by now he’s guessed.” His mother’s expression doesn’t change. “Will you?”

He smiles. “No.”

That catches her by surprise. “But you hate me,” she says.

“Yes. I do. Too much to kill you,” Rue says, as he turns to leave. “Good luck, mother. I hope it hurts.”

----​

The thing is, the Arianrod children were never really viewed as children. They were always meant to be soldiers, pawns to be moved on a board game, a war of their own creation. Trained, sharpened, and at the end of the day, disposable, like the weapons they were.

He doesn’t remember exactly when he first realized his parents didn’t really love him. Maybe a part of him has always known. But he does remember it was painstakingly clear, the night Hasina was bitten.

It didn’t matter how long they spent planning a hunt, sometimes shit just went wrong, and the hunt this particular night had gone very wrong. They had gotten split up, his father had taken a nasty fall, and Sebastien had been clawed across the face. After getting home, in the chaos, Hasina pulled him aside.

“What?” Rue snapped in irritation, before it quickly morphed into concern. “What?”

She looked over his shoulder nervously, and shut the door, closing them off from the sounds of their mother shouting for Angus to fetch the first aid kit. Instead of answering him, she moved her jacket out of the way and lifted her shirt. His blood ran cold.

“Is that -”

“Yes.”

“Hasina.”

“I know.”

On her left side, was a bite wound. Already, the blood had begun to slow, and he knew, all too well, that within the next few hours it would be completely healed. It had been pounded into their heads, again and again, over the years, the process of a werewolf bite. In just a few hours, the transformation would begin to take place and it would be too late.

With shaking hands, he reached out towards her, like he could fix it somehow.

“Rabbit,” she whispered, wide, terrified eyes fixed on his face. “The full moon’s tomorrow.”

Fucked. They were so fucked, because even as the very idea of his sister turning into - into one of those things made his skin crawl there was no way in hell he was turning his back on her. It wasn’t even a question. He couldn’t say the same about the rest of their family. And with the full moon the next day, there was no way they would be able to hide it.

But, as it turned out, they didn’t have even that long.

The door flew open. “Hey, Reuben -”

Hasina dropped her shirt and tried to cover the bloodstains with her jacket, but it was too late. It was just poor luck, that the one to go looking for them was Sebastien, Arianrod poster child. After that, it was a whirlwind of screaming and tension and guns drawn.

They’d always been told that should one of them manage to be bitten, they would do the right thing and die with dignity. Kill themselves, or if they couldn’t do it, let someone else do it for them. Rue had always thought that it would never come to that. Had thought that, up until the point he was standing in front of his sister, with his mother pointing a gun at his face.

“Let us go,” he said. “Let us go, and you’ll never have to see us again.”

“You know we can’t do that, Reuben,” his father said. He had his gun pointed at Hasina, who had the back of Rue’s leather jacket in one hand, her gun in the other, which she aimed right back at their father.

Rue wasn’t looking at his father though, he was looking at his mother. “Let us go,” he repeated.

“You know what she’s turning into,” Sebastien spat. There was gauze covering one side of his face, spotted with blood. He must not have felt comfortable holding a gun, since all he held was a silver dagger. “You’re really gonna choose her, over us?”

“Yes,” Rue said, without hesitating.

“Mom,” Hasina said, leaning around his shoulder to look at her pleadingly. “Please.

Their mother looked away from him, to Hasina, then to take in the rest of the room. He could see her calculating. They were all too well trained to miss. Finally, she nodded.

“Angela,” their father said, scandalized. She ignored him, gesturing with her gun for Rue and Hasina to shuffle past her towards the front door.

At the top of the stairs, down the hall, he could see Angus and Barbara peeking down at them from where they had been ordered upstairs when everything had started. Rue tried to give them a smile he hoped was reassuring.

“You’ll always be an Arianrod,” their mother said, and it sounded ominous, despite her actual words. She was looking at Rue. “Don’t forget that.”

That night, they left Littlefork and drove the four and a half hours to Minneapolis, only stopping to use the restroom.

Once she turned eighteen, Hasina legally changed her name back to Hasina Amari. Rue contemplated changing his own name back to what was on his birth certificate, but in the end settled with only changing his last name from Arianrod back to Cho. In the six years since they left, they haven’t had contact with their parents, or Sebastien, although he has kept in touch with Angus and Barbara. It took a while, before they were ready to talk to Hasina again too.

----​

He finds Jesse at the end of the hall, looking at something around the corner that Rue can’t see. His face is pale, and Rue feels a mounting sense of dread.

“Jesse, we’re leaving,” he says, stalking closer, just in time to see Sebastien pat Jesse’s arm.

“See ya, Jesse,” Sebastien says, and there’s a smirk on his face as he walks away.

“What’d you say to him?” Rue calls after his brother. Sebastien, predictably, doesn’t answer. He turns to Jesse. “What’d he say to you?”

Jesse shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says quickly, but his eyes follow Sebastien down the hall. “Let’s just go.”

They end up taking Angus and Barbara out to dinner that night, his younger siblings demanding to spend a bit more time with him, so it isn’t until late that he and Jesse are alone again. That night, they stay at an inn in Littlefork. Jesse doesn’t say much, on the ride over, and lets Rue check them in. When he tells Jesse he’s going to take a quick shower, all he gets is a nod, rather than his normal flirtatious offer to join.

Rue hesitates, in the doorway to the bathroom, watching as Jesse picks through the suitcase for his things, an unreadable expression on his face. He doesn’t look up once.

When Rue comes back out, rubbing a towel over his wet hair, he finds Jesse standing over the bed, staring down at Rue’s lockbox, the bag he had carelessly hid it in discarded on the floor. “What are you doing?” Rue asks, unable to keep the note of fear out of his voice.

Jesse looks up. “What’s in here?”

“Nothing,” Rue snaps, snatching and shoving it back into its bag. “It’s none of your business.”

Jesse lets it go, but there’s that same, unreadable expression on his face.

It isn’t until the lights are off, and they’re waiting for sleep to claim them that Jesse whispers into the darkness, “You aren’t a bad person, Rue.” It sounds like a question.

Rue pretends to be asleep so he doesn’t have to answer.