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Never Lose Your Hat!

He left, and she started shoving tools into a damp, and slightly stiff tool belt she'd found wedged between the back of the furnace and the wall. She didn't like it nearly as much as her apron, but she wasn't about to waste the time it would take her to climb back up, one handed, to grab it. Besides, the tool belt was bigger, and didn't have to be tied around her waist. She looped it over her head and wriggled up it rested low on her hips, half her mind now wandering as she tried to figure out whether she could combine the tool belt with the apron -- for posterity's sake.

Meanwhile, Jötz had made his way into the dark, and the rest of her mind was occupied with trying to make up the last few days to him. She still hadn't quite gotten over the whole amputation thing, but she could no longer deny he'd saved her life almost more times than she could count now. And he'd lost his hat in the process. She was certain speeding them ahead to the next town, especially along the safety of the subterranean canals, would make him feel a little better, if only so he could go on his way again, hat-stealing, and village-plundering. She supposed maybe she would sort of miss him, but then she'd probably be too busy...doing whatever unfettered Sparks did to care.

In any case, fixing the engine was something to occupy her time while he sulked and she gave him some space. And she was just beginning to make out the vague shape of a few piston-looking things in the dark, which was great because she'd just been thinking about how much better the ÜberOven would have run it if had had a second combustion engine. Of course, that one had run on blueberries, and that just didn't seem practical here.

Ivy was all about practicality.

She set the still-ticking lantern beside her for light and wriggled beneath the engine, suspended on to heavy steel pipes she suspected ran coolant through the system, smearing grease across her face and clothing as she did. For a time, and she couldn't say how much, she lost herself in a haze of equal parts curiosity and frustration, muttering numbers, curses, and questions under her breath as she did so. Jötz had probably been shouting her name before several minutes before she heard him.

"...six-four-seven...could put a pulley in here, and then...nine-one-eight...no...dammit! Why would anyone even use less than sixteen pistons...five-three-zero...for -- Oh, for Pete's sake, will you shut UP?!" Ivy sat up in a huff, furious and red-faced...until her forehead collided with one of the suspension pipes, leaving a red welt marked by a black streak of grease straight across her forehead.

The girl made a face, rubbing her nose with her good hand. "Owwwww," she muttered to herself, squinting through the darkness at the long approaching Jötz. "What're you yelling about?" she started, before her gaze drifted to her lantern, now ticking much faster and smelling faintly of smoke. And mint. Always mint.

Her face brightened at once.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, grinning at Jötz as though she'd just discovered the secret to all the world's mysteries. "Look, we can just blow it up and start over! You have to catch any flying parts, okay?" she added seriously. "Your hands are bigger than mine." She reached back under the pipes and gears and springs and switches and snagged the lantern-turned-ticking-time-bomb, and then casually launched it at what remained of the ancient engine.

Never Lose Your Hat!

I refuse to reveal my plans! =) But I am excited. And glad! I was worried I'd been butchering things. Glad to hear you're still into things -- and always glad to write with you, of course.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Daisy was fairly certain she was going to die -- not that she had any idea at all of what that meant, except it was big and bad and scary as fuck -- and she wasn't thinking about how to fix things, or what Artie was going to do. She was thinking about Veti.

What. The. Fuck.

She had been able to feel the tension building behind her. As she siphoned off God Wolf's spirit, the dead came fast and heavy, drawn like flies to a display of power that was alarming at the very least. Useful for most. Dangerous for anyone who so much as touched her. And while the wight seemed more or less competent, she wasn't dumb enough to think he could hold off all of them by himself forever.

And it was by himself. Because she understood it now, far too late. She should have seen it the moment he stepped back through the gate and into Veti's arms. She should have been suspicious -- how had he found them at all? -- but Veti had looked so goddamn happy and Daisy had been too busy sulking to notice anything strange.

Well, now she noticed. She could feel his gaze heavy on her back, and while she didn't dare turn around, she was sure to keep half her attention on him. If he attacked...

And then he did. In almost the same moment God Wolf was gone, as Daisy was turning to tell them both it was time to get the hell out of dodge, he was lunging and she was turning and staring there, blank faced, some idiot deer in the proverbial headlights, thinking about what she'd have to say to Veti if any of them made it back.

"Sorry, I had to kill your boyfriend again. But this time, he was being difficult. Honest."

Yeah, that'd go over well.

And then the wight said maybe the only thing anyone could have said to draw her attention away from the horde of dead now insistent on dragging her away.

Weirder than that, she didn't even know what he'd said. It was some other language, a series of phlegmy syllables and hard consonants she only half understood. That wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her was the weird sense of deja vu it awoke in her.

Blue eyes flicked to the wight's face, confused. Stunned.

"What did you say?"

Thad reached her before she ever got an answer. And then, seeing the wight's plan, she swore under her breath, ducking to the right, dragging both of them down. Daisy felt cold water close over her head for the first time in a long, long time. and if she had a heart at all, it was beating wildly against the inside of her rib cage.

Thad was beneath her, and then on top of her, and then beneath her again, and then she was up, stumbling away, coughing, choking, as the water around them swirled at the center of a growing horde.

And worst was still to come. God Wolf, she had no doubt, would be pissed.

They needed to be gone, and now. Daisy knew she had neither the time, nor the energy, to get them back across the other side. Veti was going to be hurting for a little while longer either way, but it was that, or deal with none of them returning at all.

"Thad, stop it!" she half shouted in a not-at-all authoritative voice. "Don't fucking make me leave you here. Whatever you're hearing, whatever they're telling you, they're wrong. They're lying." Two of the horde broke off, splashing at her through the water. She tensed, gritted her teeth, swept them aside with a touch of the Scythe. She was shivering. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"They're dead, dude! You got out -- you think they don't want to fuck your shit?" As she spoke, she edged slowly closer to the wight, no real plan in her head, except that she needed to get to higher ground, somewhere she had the power again.

Suddenly, there was a blast of cold, enough to knock half the dead off their feet, into the water, carried away into the gray mist. The water at their feet frosted into ice around their ankles.

God Wolf had arrived.

Daisy felt her spine lock into painful rigidity. The decay wrapped around her torso and arms burned with cold. Swearing, she drove the butt of the Scythe into the ground at her feet. At once, a wall of water surged up around herself and the wight and Thad, the dead around them momentarily thrown off. It bought them mere seconds, and Daisy was already trembling with the effort, eyes focused on Thad, cautious, careful.

"I can't hold these walls long," she grunted through clenched teeth. "If we get trapped here with God Wolf, the others won't be able to do shit for us. I am your only chance to crossover again." The towers of water behind him trembled meaningfully, the spectres on the other side now gaining in strength and number. "You think you're dead? They can still kill you. Don't make me bring down the walls. Trust me -- Death is much, much worse than dying."

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Oh my goodness same. Retreated to a friend's house for wifi and A/C. Should have a post up in a few hours tops. =)

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I hope to join the fray soon. Internet's been real spotty lately. ><

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Should be able to get a post up by tomorrow evening. =)

EDIT: Yay we win! ...kinda.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Sad post makes me sad. =( Even though Thad's counterpart may be planning on murdering my character. SO MANY FEELS

Animorphs

YES! Deds is catching on. =D

Never Lose Your Hat!

Ivy felt a furry claw wrap around her arm, and then, a second later, she felt her temper jump up through levels of 'simmering' to 'explosive' to 'right on through the roof' as Jötz pulled her away from the tools he'd shown her. She scowled, green eyes going hard and opened her mouth to berate him.

"Get off, you -- oh."

Her foul mood died just as quickly as it had come, and all it had taken was the force of his tone...and the look in his eyes. She was vaguely aware he was speaking, and that it was important, at least to him, so she ought to be listening, but she couldn't quite get over how somber he looked, and there was a pang of something sharp in her belly that felt awfully close to pity.

Which, of course, was grotesque at the very best. He had cut off her arm. She was supposed to be mad at him. She had been. Hadn't she?

It occurred to her he was still speaking, and she wasn't listening, and for some reason, that felt very wrong. She made herself focus. Besides. It was the first time, at least in her short memory, that he'd called her just Ivy. She figured that counted for something.

He looked so tired, so downtrodden when he finished speaking, Ivy felt an almost overwhelming need to hug him, but she didn't know if he'd like that. She'd heard about Sparks experimenting on friends and family before -- mostly old Motorhum horror stories, but familiar enough to leave goosebumps on her arms -- and wondered, not for the first time, how Sparks ever made it through even half a lifetime if they were always killing those who tried to protect them. She wanted to promise, if only to see him stop looking so sad, that she wouldn't do anything, but the truth was, she didn't know how to stop it. And he would understand that even better than she.

After a moment, she decided just to turn away. There was no verbal confirmation, no mutual agreement. Words wouldn't mean anything. Not that kind, at least.

Ivy went back to poking through the tools he'd found her, the silence weighing heavy, almost unbearable on her shoulders before she said, "I think I can make the engine work. And then...and then maybe you can leave me in the next town. If you want."

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Yay ominous! I think I'll wait to see if Derren can get a post up before I respond.