I've been playing SSO for 9 years, so it's somewhat been a big influence on my life & I am very excited to see a community here on tumblr for this game!!
I also write fanfic!! currently I'm working on a Sabine x reader one on Ao3 if you're interested in that :)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Faith, hope, some things are meant to be gone broke
Word Count: 4.7k
Rating: Mature
Warnings: explicit description of violence, violence, again lots of violence, heads will roll, literally, mentions of blood, injury, suicidal thoughts (?), it's Montana what do you guys expect, a teeny tiny bit of comfort at the end
@dark-rider-pr
Safety was nothing but an illusion. A thin veil of pretense that could be ripped apart any second if you weren’t careful enough. No matter how hard you try to protect something, in a matter of seconds it could all come crashing down on you. Like a house of cards that could be toppled by just the smallest blow of wind.
It was something the Valley Community had almost forgotten. Being hidden away in the frozen valley for so long without a single incident had given them a false sense of security. Most of them had believed that with the main entrance sealed off and the gate protecting them they were safe. They were hidden, shut off from the rest of the island where, except for the few other shelters, chaos had taken over.
Even Montana had started to believe that, perhaps, this could be some sort of safe zone. That she finally could breath and relax and not have to expect a horde suddenly disturbing her peace. After all it had been over two weeks and nothing zombie related had happened to them. Why should there? No one had used excessive amounts of magic. They should be safe.
That false sense of security had come tumbling down on them in a matter of seconds. Not just the Valedale but also the Silverglade horde had come charging through the gates, led by a horrific looking zombie. The sheer force of both hordes at once had been enough to overpower the defenses that the community had set up, destroying the gate and storming the Valley in a matter of mere seconds. Despite everyone giving their best to fight back against the seemingly never ending onslaught of zombies, most of the community hadn't had any combat experience and were ill suited for the scenario. Even with the Hunters and Riders going all out, the sheer surprise and unpreparedness of an attack was enough to overpower them. The Soul Riders and Katja were doing their best to protect as many people as they could while Jay and Sabine had gone off to search for Florence.
Florence, who apparently had grown a consciousness about how fucked up it was to turn people into vampires and decided to run away. Great day, really.
Dodging a zombie running straight at her before quickly turning around and throwing her axe at the undead. As the metal collided with the back of its head it let out a scream that was quickly stifled by Montana jumping its back and throwing it on the ground. Her hands- claws- wrapped around the thin, purple neck. Tearing off the zombie's head with nothing but her own hands came as easy as pulling an apple off a tree. 'Vampire strength sure is scary’
With all her focus put into taking out as many zombies as possible while not getting injured too badly herself she hadn't even registered Cornelia and Kara starting an escape operation. Not until Loretta had called out her name, quickly motioning for her to move over before shooting at a quickly approaching zombie.
With a grunt she removed her axe from the decapitated skull, Onyx following close behind her as they moved towards the evacuating group. Finding her place at the end of the group and helping with fighting off any of the undead that tried to go after them. This way she had more range of motion while also reducing the risk of people accidentally getting in her way and injuring them.
ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ
Montana could hear the crowd of horses and people move further into the tunnel behind her. The amount of bullets flying through the air died down with every second that seemed to pass, the ammunition slowly but surely running out. Gritting her teeth she swung her axe at the zombie running towards her. Just as it’s head dropped to the ground two more zombies charged at her. With a quick motion she flipped the direction in which the bigger blade was pointing before swinging again. In a matter of seconds she decapitated one of the zombies before ducking and moving behind the second one. The next head dropped into the blood stained snow, her shoulders heaving as the vampire tried to momentarily catch her breath.
A gurgling scream sounded from behind her, causing her head whip around just in time to see Onyx kicking a particularly big zombie with his hind legs. There was a loud cracking sound as hoofs collided with the side of its skull, sending it crashing to the ground before the shire turned and stomped down on the sickly purple head. Bone splinters and blood went flying through the air, a satisfied huff coming from her horse as he stepped away from the freshly mangled undead.
“I owe you, buddy.”
Most of what was left of the Valley was already inside the tunnel with even the defenses against the zombies being a good distance behind her. There were still some zombies coming out of it with the additional headache of the ones following them.
Still, it was a lot less than it had been before. They could manage this. They had to manage this. What would have been the point of all the suffering she had gone through the last couple of months if she lost it now?
Weighing her options Montan put her axe in the scabbard attached to Onyx’s saddle. Every minute she spent on the ground would put even more distance between herself and the fleeing community while simultaneously putting her closer to the crowd of the zombies chasing them.
Reaching for the saddle she was about to pull herself up onto her horse, she just had to stretch her arm a little further and-
Bony fingers clawed at her shoulders and back, ripping her away from the shire and onto the cold ground. Multiple rotten mouths were trying to take a bite out of her face as more claws dug into one of her arms, pinning it to the ground.
Her heart started racing even more than before, adrenaline and anxiety pumping through her veins as she tried her best to avoid the teeth that were just millimeters away from her face. Behind her Onyx gave a desperate cry, pacing around the bloodied snow. He knew that he couldn't kick at the undead, not without risking injuring Montana as well. Help from the other members was no use either, no one would risk getting bitten for a vampire.
With a desperate scream her free hand was engulfed in a burst of magenta flames, swinging at the zombies. Her brain didn't even register the pain of her knuckles connecting with bones due to the freezing cold around her and the adrenaline in her bloodstream.
Even with her best efforts the everlasting blizzard made it impossible for her fire to deal significant damage. If only she was as powerful as the Soul Riders or Dark Riders. But no, she was just an ordinary witch. This was the best her strength would allow her, the best she could do. It was slowing them down a little, yes, but usually it would’ve made the little amount that was left of their skin and flesh melt right off.
Onyx kept crying out behind her as more of the zombies started running past them. Taking another swing at the nearest one the former blacksmith apprentice looked around only to realize that they were slowly but surely going to be surrounded soon. Frowning she clenched her fists tighter, her own sharp nails digging into the skin of her palm and creating little cuts. Just a bit more magic. Just a bit more power. She had to do something.
Without even realizing it, static started to crackle alongside the flames dancing across her hands and arms, neon pink and magenta mixing as she threw another punch.
For a split second her eyes widened in horror as she realized what had happened. A sharp pain shot through her chest and lungs as the birthmark hidden beneath layers of clothing flared up. Fire and lightning mixed as her fist collided with a bony jaw.
There was a bright flash of white and pink light, a searing pain in her right eye and ringing in her left ear. She was faintly aware of Onyx’s panicked cry.
Her vision turned black before her body even hit the ground.
ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ
Just as they had made their way a bit further down into the tunnel Loretta could hear something that sounded way too much like an explosion for her liking behind them. Her stomach twisted as she shot at another zombie, managing to hit its throat and severing the head. What in the hell could've caused an explosion? Most of the community was in front of her. She was almost at the rear end of the survivor group, only a few other riders armed with guns or machetes were even further behind. That and-
Sending a glance over to Justin made the uneasy feeling inside her stomach only worse. It had been a good while since she had seen a specific shire and by the looks of it neither had Justin. Onyx markings paired with his height were almost impossible to miss and he for sure wasn’t with them or the few others behind them. And if Onyx was missing, that meant his rider was as well. Justin was looking back at where the explosion had sounded from, his face twisted in horror and worry as he stopped Saga in her tracks. Stopping Bartok alongside him she looked over to him and their eyes met.
“Mo is still back there.”
He was about to turn the Irish draft around when the former club leader managed to get a hold of the reins, keeping the mare from turning around and glaring at her friend.
“What in the actual hell do you think you’re doing?” It felt as if she almost had to scream to make her voice be heard over the commotion around them. Another zombie tried to claw at her feet and she let go of the others reins in order to shoot a bullet through its eye socket. Standing still in the middle of the tunnel filled with zombies was truly a great way of getting both of them killed. Not that the group was moving fast, but anything was better than a complete stand still.
“Someone has to help her!” As he was about to turn the mare around a second time Loretta reached for the reins again, yanking at them hard enough to have Saga protest the motion.
“Getting yourself killed or bitten isn’t going to help her!”
The defeated and frustrated look on his face almost made her feel bad. Almost. 'Seriously, is Montana’s recklessness rubbing off on him?’
“But-”
“You don't have any experience in dealing with zombies! How do you think you're going to help her?” Seeing as Justin didn't have an answer to that, because that idiot obviously hadn't thought this great idea of his through, Loretta sighed. She let go of Sagas' reins, turning Bartok around before announcing: “I’ll go and check on her, you keep going with the rest.”
Justin was about to open his mouth in protest, causing her to glare at him enough that it shut him up immediately.
Softening her gaze a little she added: “She’s my friend, Justin. I promise I will bring her back.”
Had anyone told her a year ago that she’d one day be risking her own life to save Montana Opalheart, Loretta would have suggested they have their head checked for a concussion. But with everything that had happened, with all the things and people, friends and family they had lost…
She wasn’t ready to bury another friend. Spurring Bartok on, the two galloped the opposite direction of where the survivors were going. Away from the growing warmth and back into the eternal blizzard they had started to call home.
Once they exited the tunnel there were close to no zombies left in the nearby area. The ones that did were nothing more than hacked up bodies with holes and missing limbs or heads. In a matter of mere seconds she had located Montana and Onyx, or rather Onyx had located them.
The shire was pacing back and forth, ears almost flat against his head as he looked around with a wild, nervous look in his eyes. As soon as he spotted them a loud whine echoed through the cold air. Bartok answered with a shrill whine of his own, coming to a stop just inches away from the other gelding. There was a figure laying in the snow behind Onyx, one with short black hair and bleach blond ends and a blue scarf around their neck.
Sliding down from her warmblood’s back Loretta could feel her heart rate spike again. ‘Aideen, she can’t be dead, right? Please don’t let her be dead.’
Montana and her had always had their little fights and ugly nicknames, yes, but that didn’t mean they didn’t like each other.
The shire didn’t protest as the former club leader ran around him. Crouching in the snow and turning the vampire onto her back Loretta could swear her heart stopped for a second.
ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ
Montana knew she had to get up. They were in the middle of an evacuation, there were zombies all around them and she was just laying there. She had to get up, she had to fight, had to make herself useful. If only her stupid body listen! Everything felt so heavy, her limbs, head, torso. Nothing would move.
‘It would be so easy to give in, to fall back unconscious. To have this be the end.’
Maybe the second time it would work?
Someone was there at her side. Someone human, their voice sounding as if it was far beneath the ocean. They were shaking her rather aggressively with some not-so-light pats on her cheeks. Desperately trying to wake her up. Someone had come looking for her.
‘Why?’
No, no. Now was not the time to let those thoughts win. Not when she had just been fighting tooth and nail to get out of this, to survive. She had to make sure Onyx and Justin were safe. She had to get up, to open eyes, she had to-!
“Montana! Goddamnit wake up!”
That voice was familiar. Way too familiar. One she had argued with only the gods knew how often over stable chores and fashion choices.
A hard slap across her cheek made her gasp. Finally managing to open her eyes the former blacksmith apprentice groaned at the much too blinding light coming from the snow around her. Squeezing her eyes shut again she let out a groan as the other rider grabbed at her hands and started to pull her up.
“Get up! We have to leave! Aideen why are you so heavy?”
“Loretta?” Fuck, everything hurt. Grabbing her friend's arms together they managed to pull her up. “It's called having muscles.”
Parts of her were already wet from laying in the snow, the feeling of biting cold against her skin only exacerbated by the blizzard around them. Not to mention the right side of her face hurt like hell.
“Muscles my ass, what are they feeding you vampires.” Never in her life had she heard Loretta sound so relieved when talking to her. Even while she was still squinting at her surroundings the rider was ushering her towards what must've been Onyx. “Get up, hurry, we have to get out of here.”
Blinking a few more times her vision started to clear up, shapes and details coming more into focus as her eyes adjusted to the bright light around them.
But something felt off. No matter how many times Montana blinked, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was severely wrong.
Putting a hand up to her face she realized that her field of vision was smaller than usual. When she focused on her nose she could no longer see her fingers as soon as they reached the right side of it.
The panic from before settled back into her veins as the realisation hit her like a lightning bolt.
“Wh- what-”
Before the vampire could put her hand fully on the right side of her face Loretta grabbed her arm, causing her to turn her head and look at the blonde.
There was worry and panic on her face, though she seemed to try her hardest to come off as calm as she physically could.
“Let’s focus on that when we’re somewhere safe.”
After climbing onto Onyx back and Loretta getting back on Bartok's, the girls hurried to catch up with the rest of the remaining community. The further they got away from the valley the more the injured side of her face started to hurt. While the freezing cold had bitten on her skin, the warm wind and change of temperature had her almost crying. She was gripping Onyx reins as hard as she could with one hand while holding onto the horn of the saddle with the other.
She let Onyx follow after Bartok on his own accord, her mind too busy with focusing on trying not to scream out in pain as to even attempt and register what was going on around them. Not to mention she couldn’t see a single thing that was happening to her right. Otherwise she would’ve seen Cornelia on the ground, struggling against a zombie.
No matter the sounds around her the vampire refused to look up or around. Only after she could feel Onyx slowing down and hear the rushing of water did she look up.
They were in Valedale, at least by the looks of it. Silversong river was just a couple steps away and Montana didn't hesitate a second to dismount from her horse.
It was anything but graceful, her feet stumbling and almost giving in as they hit the dirt ground beneath her. Her face felt like it was on fire and the world to her right seemed oddly quiet. Not to mention her vision still felt off, wrong.
The last time she had felt this disoriented, this confused and downright terrified had been after “waking up” from her first feed.
Stumbling towards the riverbank she dropped to her knees once she reached it. Montana’s hands shook as she looked at her distorted reflection in the river water. Even just the slightest touch of her fingertips against the tender skin made her wince. Tears that she had worked so hard to push back started to well up in her eyes, though she could only feel them in one of them.
Her right ear looked like bacon that had been left on the grill too long and was all sizzled up. The skin around her eye up her ear and a few centimeters further up her head was burnt. A milky white layer seemed to sit atop her right eye, dulling both the pink of her iris and the black of her pupil. Somewhere in the back of her mind the vampire realized how her heart started to beat faster, breathing speeding up. How her whole body wouldn't stop shaking.
She was on the verge of hyperventilating- no, on the verge of a panic attack.
‘I’m half blind. I’m half deaf. How am I supposed to survive like this? How am I supposed to help like this?’
Everything in her wanted to scream out. To cry and yell and sob and wail. To make her agony known to the world around her. Had she not been through enough already? What kind of sick, cruel prank was this supposed to be that the universe was trying to pull on her-
“Montana, hey, look at me.”
Tearing her eyes from the water she looked up to see Loretta kneeling down beside her. White gloves gripped her shoulders, squeezing and shaking her slightly as the former club leader continued to talk: “We’re alive. We’re safe. No need to crash out now, okay?”
“I-”
“-am alive. You survived.” There was another shake to emphasize the last part before the girl continued talking. “We’re going to get you patched up and you’ll be fine and then you and Justin can be grossly sweet together, deal? Just please don’t freak out. I wouldn't know what to do if you did.”
Never had she seen Loretta with this much determination in her eyes, at least nothing that didn't have to do with becoming the next big dressage champion.
“Don't leave.” Were the only words she managed to get out, lips trembling as she spoke. God, she was terrified. Terrified of what had happened, terrified of what was yet to come. Dying was easy. Being dead was easy. Living? That was already hard enough. But living half blind in a zombie apocalypse?
She was a liability. A hindrance. A weak spot. Could she even still fight properly? Fight at all?
Only once Loretta's expression turned from determination back to panic and there are drops of water falling onto her hands does Montana realize she's crying. She's not even sure what she's crying about. Being alive? Being blind? The stress from the situation crashing down on her or the burning pain in her face? Maybe a combination of it all, of the weeks and months of suppressed frustrations and anger hitting their breaking point.
Maybe it doesn't matter.
ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ
Hours later what little remained of the Valley Community had gathered in the druid paddocks. Almost no one had come out unscathed, only having some light scratches and bruises were seen as almost a blessing. There were people with broken bones, wounds deep enough to expose bones and cut off limbs and fingers.
The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, leaving a bitter taste of iron in the vampire's mouth.
She had retreated to one of the corners of the paddock, far away from the main group of injured people. Far away from people that could stare or try to help. Loretta had left only after endless debates of whether they could do something to help her injury.
Of course the answer had been no. There was nothing they could do to help her, no wounds to try and bandage or blood to clean up. Cooling the burn was out of the question, there was no cream or ointment at hand and her own knowledge of medicinal herbs was basically nonexistent. All she could do was to sit there on the ground while trying to ignore the burning, pulsating pain in the right side of her face. Onyx was laying beside her, creating a barrier between her and the rest of the community. Whether it was to protect her peace from them or them from her was hard to tell.
The tears had long since dried up, leaving her eyes red and puffy. Earlier she had wanted to scream and sob. To do so until her voice was gone and her throat was left soar. Now she couldn't even bring herself to search Onyx’s saddlebag for a bottle of potion despite the growing hunger in her stomach. Everything hurt, her entire body ached from the strain of battle and having zombies pull and tear on her limbs. The cuts left all over her body would turn into scars if given enough time.
Given she lived long enough for them to scar.
Maybe she could just fall asleep and not have to wake up again. Ever.
Montana can smell Justin before his footsteps are close enough to be singled out from the group. Closing her eyes she presses herself closer against Onyx’ body, the uninjured side of her face almost completely hidden. There's the sound of rummaging through a saddlebag, of Onyx giving a soft snort and someone sitting down next to her.
The way he says her nickname is low, almost a whisper. As if he isn't sure if she's asleep and doesn't want to risk waking her up. For a moment she thinks about pretending, to not react and make him leave. To be alone with her thoughts and sorrows and voices in her head.
But she doesn't want to be alone. Not really. Not if it's him.
Turning her head she looks at her boyfriend. There's a streak of dried blood across his cheek that has her panicking before she remembers that she had been the one to put it there, to keep him safe.
“Montana-” He grabs the arm that's holding her axe, causing her to stop in her tracks.
“I'm of better use on the front lines.” Letting her fangs drop she drags her thumb across one of them, creating a little cut. Just enough for it to bleed. She wipes it across Justin's cheek, below his eye. “To keep you safe.”
Pressing a quick kiss against his lips she breaks free from his grip, yelling: “Don't wipe it off!” as she runs straight towards the attacking zombies.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
God, they both sound like shit. She lets her shoulders drop, knees that had been pulled up to her chest sliding down just a little.
“Everything hurts.” Trying to push a strand of hair out her face and accidentally touching the burn wound makes her wince in pain. Some of the hair had been burned off with the explosion and left behind a mess.
“Need help?”
Giving a tired nod Montana closes her eyes as he rearranges her hair, flipping her side part to the opposite side as to avoid her hair coming in contact with her wound.
She's glad that he doesn't ask what happened. Beside the fact that (given people knew her circumstances) it was rather obvious, it seemed like something extremely embarrassing to admit.
“I’m sure I look horrendous now. Like a freak.” She can't look him in the eye as the words leave her lips. Not when it was how she truly felt despite her attempts to make it sound like a joke.
“How dare you talk like that about my Sparks.” Justin’s arm wraps around her shoulder as he's talking in a soft voice. His other hand is offering her a bottle of potion, no doubt the reason he had been looking through the saddlebag earlier. “You're alive. You're breathing. Anything else doesn't matter.” A soft kiss is pressed against her temple as she sips on the potion without much enthusiasm. “And for the record, I think you look like my girlfriend.”
For a second she stops, the brim of the bottle still resting on her bottom lip as the words settle in. Had there been any tears left they would've rolled down her cheeks.
“Montana?” Tearing her eyes from the ground she looks over to Justin, the tone of his voice weirdly serious all of a sudden. Despite the fact that he was holding out one of his pinkies the look on his face was so intense it made her worry she'd done something wrong. “Promise me, whatever happens, you'll do everything you can to stay alive. To come back home. Swear it on my moms grave.”
‘I can’t. I don't want to.’ She was so tired of staying alive. Of surviving. Couldn't he see that?
As their eyes meet his serious facade began to crack, hopelessness and worry bleeding through.
“If not for yourself then for me.”
It was just a whisper, a plea laced with desperation.
That boy sure knew how to play his cards right.
Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat Montana wrapped her pinky around his, her eyes never leaving his as she spoke.
“For you. I swear on your mothers grave, I'll stay alive for you.”
The way Justin's shoulders slumped with relief you would've thought the weight of the world had been lifted from him. In a matter of seconds he has his girlfriend gathered in his arms, head resting atop hers as he holds her close. Another kiss is pressed against the top of her head, followed by a low “I love you. Don't forget that.”
Something in her chest aches horribly and again she wants to cry with no tears left to shed. So instead she buries the left side of her face in his shoulder, voice thick with emotions as she argued: “Love you more.” ‘More than myself. More than life itself.”
Girl this was so good!!!!! Ugh the fighting and the way you described everything like the explosion and the wounds and!!!!! You're so awesome!!!
I'm very much glad you ended with the comfort after all that 😭 it was SO cute!!!!
(Also the line "Her right ear looked like a bacon that had been left on the grill too long and was all sizzled up" caught me SO off guard that is such a good description but also like oh my god 😭)
Our ethnically ambiguous queen because skin colour and favourite food doesn't denote ethnicity
She has a korowai, the traditional Māori cloak that is worn for special occasions and also denotes power and prestige. I took inspiration from a contemporary korowai maker for the usage of bright colours and feathers.
The are huia feathers in her hair. As you probably saw from previous posts I was wondering if to use them or not as the bird has become extinct from 1907 and the feathers are hardly used. I decided to use them as it felt in keeping with Sabine's role but also because...well...screw it immortal Sabine. The lore implications.
She wears several pieces of pounamu jewellery (green stone/jade). Her earrings are done in the shape of the hei matau (hook) and is both to reconnect one to the ocean and bring strength, prosperity and protection on one's travels. Her pendent is a porohita (disc) and symbolises the circle of life.
Last but not least there's the moko kauae.
Overall, this has been a really fun challenge and since I live in Oceania, Māori!Sabine has been rattling around in my noggin'. Shout out to my SSO club for helping me spit ball designs and also to the Star Stable Discord server for putting up me spamming and asking for critique.
So yeah new chapter of my fic for RoFD!!! It's a 5k words monstrosity!!
TW: the average vampirism and zombie warnings, as in... yeah there's gore and death. Also at the very least one suicidal thought because this is RoFD!Cornelia we're talking about like😭
@dark-rider-pr
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
You know whats funny to me is that SSE has no idea what the plot is…and that’s great because it means we can have fun and do our own interpretations and bridge gaps.
Now, SSL, the books and SSO the game are considered by others as like, completely different media even though there is a referenced history of the SSO Soul Riders and the Dark Riders (the Katja James incident being pivotal evidence for this).
Is it canon to you? Is it not? IMO who cares.
Hell, the SSO lore has been re-written so many times over that it doesn’t make sense and thus, in a way, no-one's headcanons are completely true or completely false.
It’s called nuance and multiple things can be true at once.
The Star Stable lore is sooooo contradictory and incoherent, you kinda have to bullshit things and that is amazing. The things people come up with get me so excited and happy like yes tell me the weirdest, obscurist thing you’ve managed to link together.
What I have issues with is when people double down and call others wrong. That is not fun and goes against the entire overarching plot of kindness and community (and also saving the world but I digress).
Multiple things can be true at once.
Me? I believe in both human Dark Riders and alien Dark Riders. I’ve consumed all the media I can get my hands on and none of it makes sense but…I can tailor it to my will.
In one fic, I have the human Dark Riders (Undisclosed Desires). In another, they’re immortal harbingers of doom (Gothic Hearts and RoFD).
Multiple things can be true at once.
Let people have their fun because we sure as fuck need to have some joy in our lives.
In the wise words of our mother, Chappel Roan: “You’re not fun! Be fun and try!”
Here's Alina's version of events, mostly (but probably not entirely) following the worldbuilding of dark-rider-pr's Riders of Fallen Dawn apocalypse AU.
The first two parts are already posted to tumblr, they've received minor edits, but this third chapter is entirely new.
I don't think I'll be adding every update here, but I'll post this one just to share the link >w>
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Granted this isn't totally fitting into the prompt but I think it could squeeze into that. It's basically also just people being angry. And with people I mean Cornelia 😭 Also took me way too long to update again I am so sorry Uni is killing me🙏
@dark-rider-pr
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Word Count: 4k
Rating: Mature
Warnings: explicit descriptions of violence, lots of violence, like seriously, blood, injury, attempted cannibalism ?, the horrors of turning into a vampire, gremlin I am sorry for doing this to Sabine
@dark-rider-pr
Montana knew this had been her idea. She was the one who had come up to Sabine with the proposal, the idea of being the one to give her the potion after she turned. Was she still mad at the Dark Rider for attacking her back then? Yeah. Was she still furious about the claw marks that now covered the lower half of her face? Fucking hell she was. If it hadn’t been for doctor Eiren and druid medicine who knew how long she would’ve had to deal with the wound reopening (not to mention the risk of it getting infected out in the wild).
But the memories of her first feed, the terror and realization of what she had done, of seeing Judy’s torn up body and lifeless eyes and the taste of blood in her mouth, were even more vivid. It was burned into her brain, a shiver running down her back every time she thought back to it.
No one should have to go through that, not even someone like Sabine. Being lucid while feeding on a person was one thing, it was a whole different ordeal if you couldn’t control yourself. To be trapped in your own brain, aware of what you were doing and how you were acting, to feel your teeth and claws rip at flesh and arteries. Screaming and begging with your body to stop and still being unable to compose yourself even the tiniest bit because of the gnawing hunger and primal instincts that didn’t feel like yourself-
Shaking her head the former blacksmith turned her focus back on to the potion brewing in the small pot in front of her. Cornelia had been kind enough to let her make a copy of the recipe that witch- Sive- had given the other vampires. The news that there was a potion, a supplement for the blood, had been the best news Montana had heard in weeks (even if her first reaction had been to be mad over the fact that all these months she could’ve just been drinking a damn potion instead of having to feed on humans). During the first four days in their little safe-space (which would not be safe at all once Sabine woke up again, it was more so to keep the outside safe from them) she had taken to stashing bottle after bottle of supplement around the circle. Always in pairs of two and a certain distance away from each other. It was the closest thing she had to a strategy; dump two bottles down Sabine’s throat and go for the next pair. Jay had explained how for Lisa, who had been in hibernation when they found her, a total of four bottles had been needed.
“Let’s go with six. Although you better have some more ready, just to be sure.”
They were right, of course. There was no chance in hell that Montana would be able to get six whole bottles down Sabine’s throat before she would start fighting back. The Dark Rider was already a ruthless fighter without the addition of "vampire’s first feed" feral. Bloodshed was a certainty and not because of the fact that she’d have to somehow keep the other girl somewhat still.
Sabine had gotten infected while they were feeding Anne, Cornelia had lost two fingers to Lisa and neither of them had been alone while going up against the feral vampires. Montana had no one but her axe and anger once the Dark Rider woke up. Which was just fine for her. Not that there were many other viable options other than her; Katja and Jay were still suppressing their magic (plus Sabine was their sister), Cornelia had already been injured before. Lisa wasn’t the type of person to do something like this, there was no chance in hell Sabine would allow Florence to and Anne was Aideen-Knows-Where. This way no one else but her would have to risk getting hurt or even killed while going up against a Dark Rider.
A feral, hungry Dark-Rider-Vampire that was a foot taller than her and would be out for blood. She could almost hear Justin’s voice in her head yelling at her that ‘that’s not a plan, that’s a suicide mission!’
Yeah, not telling him about this had been for the best.
As the liquid inside the pot bubbled she let out a groan before turning around and looking over to where Sabine had curled up. The Rider looked exactly like a stage four zombie; eyes and cheeks were sunken in, her body nothing more than a skeleton covered by a thin layer of unnatural, purple skin. A few wefts of hair were still clinging to her skull while the rest had fallen out over the course of the past two weeks.
It wouldn’t be long until she woke up again, until they could finally leave this damn circle. The fight that was slowly creeping closer as the minutes ticked by wasn’t what was making her restless. It wasn’t the cold or being separated from Onyx or even being stuck together with Sabine (though, granted, it wasn’t like the two of them had been able to hold much of a conversation).
But being confined to a tiny circle in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but sit around and cook what was essentially soup? That part was, perhaps, making her a little restless. (And yes, the space Jay had made for them wasn’t small per se, but after spending months out in the open having to be stuck in a single area was driving her up the invisible walls).
ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ
Montana had been staring at Sabine’s unmoving form for at least an hour when the first sign of life came. The growl had been low, quiet. Something that could easily be chucked up to one's imagination if it came out of nowhere. Not if that someone had spent the last few months in a constant state of survival mode with the added bonus of enhanced hearing.
Eyes fixed on the corpse- vampire? undead person?- lying on the other side of the circle the former blacksmith stuck her axe into the ground, the wooden handle facing towards the direction of the Dark Rider. With two bottles of potion held in one hand she started walking towards Sabine, fluffy snow crunching beneath her boots as the blizzard around her seemed to grow stronger. Despite what every fiber in her body told her she kept a slow and steady pace. Alerting the Dark Rider right at the start of their fight and risking sending her into an early rampage would only complicate things. The former blacksmith apprentice had to use the window of time she had between Sabine regaining consciousness and going feral to get as many potions as possible down the others throat. After that nothing was certain.
Still, she had made a promise.
Once only a few feet separated them Montana started to uncap the first of the bottles, magenta eyes never leaving the quivering, gurgling form of Sabine. The second, still closed potion was dropped in the snow before the former blacksmith apprentice rolled the Dark Rider onto her back. Her chest, all skin and bones, was heaving in slow motion. Eyes, soulless and emitting a faint glow the same color as her own irises, staring right at her. The knowledge that at some point she herself had looked like this sent a shiver down her spine.
Not wanting to waste another second Montana kneeled beside Sabine’s head, pinching her nose and pressing the bottle of supplement against her lips. Its contents quickly flowed down the other’s throat as her swallow reflex set in. The bony chest was starting to rise more frequently, more rhythmically.
‘Better hurry this up’
Discarding the empty bottle somewhere in the snow the former blacksmith reached for the next one. The movements were almost mechanical. Open the lid, press it against her lips. Watch out for any form of movement. With each gulp of liquid going down Sabine’s throat her heart started beating faster in anticipation of something.
Half the potion was gone before the Dark Rider’s eyes widened. Arms and legs, albeit slow and clunky, started to move. Montana cursed under her breath. With a quick motion she shifted her position, moving one of her legs over and across Sabine’s shoulder and collarbone while the other one stayed on the snow-covered ground. Bony hands started clawing at her legs and torso as the Dark Rider started to regain more control over her limbs. Sharp collar bones dug into her shin, sending wave after wave of pain through Montana’s body.
As soon as the second potion had been downed and the bottle removed a bat-like scream tore through the air. Had she not removed her hand quickly enough it most likely would’ve met the same fate as Cornelia’s had. The struggle beneath her leg grew as the potion did what was its job, help Sabine recover. Unfortunately for Montana the other’s mind, unlike her physical strength, would only return once the feed had been completed.
Time was running out and quicker than she had expected.
The next batch of potions wasn’t too far away. Using Sabine’s chest as a stepping stool and causing a screech to leave the vampire's lips, which she definitely did not smirk at, no no, Montana scrambled to her feet.
Her heart was pounding like crazy, the blood pulsing in her veins warming her up enough to no longer feel the biting cold of the blizzard around them. Only a couple more steps. Behind her Sabine was screaming.
Just as she was about to reach the bottles something sharp dug into her leg, piercing through fabric and skin. She cried out in pain before being violently pulled to the ground. Her face smashed into the cold snow, a muffled groan leaving her lips as her forehead and nose collided with the frozen soil. Quickly reaching out with one of her hands her fingertips almost brushed against one of the bottles before the distance between them grew again.
‘Shit!’
Dirt and stones were scraping across her face as the claw on her leg dragged her backwards. Behind her the gurgling and uncanny sounds that sounded a lot like incoherent zombie blubbering grew louder. Her foot hit something solid, bone-like and Montana took it as her cue to turn the fuck around. Twisting her upper body she got a perfectly good look at one of Sabine’s hands digging into her left calf as the other was reaching for her other leg.
“Fuck off!” With as much force as she could muster she kicked the heel of her right boot up against a bony jaw. Another kick followed, this time straight into the middle of Sabine’s face. It took two more of those before she could finally pull her leg free from the claw.
Ignoring the stinging pain in her calf Montana decided against going for the closer potions, instead sprinting towards the direction of her axe. She couldn’t get another potion down, not without a proper weapon by her side for defense. And while the knives on her were pretty useful in certain situations they wouldn’t be of much help in this one.
Hearing the screaming behind her Montana managed to turn around just in time to evade an attack aimed directly at her face. A stretched out claw nearly grazed her cheek as Sabine’s malnourished form stumbled past her, barely managing to stay on her feet as she did so. With the Dark Rider trying to regain her balance it gave the former blacksmith apprentice enough time to raise her balled fists in anticipation, fuchsia colored flames engulfing her hands.
As the Dark Rider turned around to face her again their face was met with a fist of fire. Two, three, four times. Each time Montana’s knuckles connected with her opponent's skull she could feel the pain sending shockwaves through her entire body. On the fifth punch Sabine finally fell backwards.
Extinguishing the flames, the former blacksmith apprentice continued her run towards her camp. Her knuckles felt like they were on fire, scratched open and bleeding from repeatedly hitting against what was essentially pure bones. There was a roar this time, guttural and angry and heading in her direction.
She really had pissed her off now.
Grabbing one of the nearest bottles and stashing it away in the pocket strapped to her thigh, Montana pulled her axe out of the ground, its metal blade glistening in the afternoon sun.
Sabine was half running, half crawling towards her like some weird cryptid-type-shit monster while screaming like a banshee.
The smaller vampire shifted her grip on the weapon, wrapping both hands around the wooden handle as she got into position. She dropped her shoulders, eyes narrowing at the rapidly approaching form of Sabine, raising her harms and-
There was a loud clang ringing through the air as the flat side of the metal blade collided with Sabine’s bony cheek. The Dark Rider’s body was thrown to the side, landing face first in the snow, unmoving.
In a matter of seconds Montana had jumped on the others back, slamming the axe into the ground beside them before pressing her full weight down on her shoulder blades. She pulled at the remaining hair on the other’s head, ignoring the ear-ringing screaming and lifting the skull just enough to wrap her legs around a thin neck. Her legs were propping up Sabine’s head while her free hand pinched and pulled at her nose. Pulling out the bottle and opening it with one hand she waited for another scream to leave the Rider’s lips before pressing the bottle against them.
Staying somewhat stable atop of Sabine’s restless form turned out to be more of a challenge than she had anticipated. Her legs tightened around the others neck as the other vampire shifted beneath her, clawing at the ground and moving her legs-
The realization of what her opponent was trying to do came too late. Sabine was already standing up, albeit hunched over, before the last drop of the potion left the bottle. Claws tore open more of Montana’s pants and the skin on her legs. She was holding onto wefts of hair and bony shoulders for dear life as Sabine trashed from side to side, screaming and roaring like a wild animal.
In the end her attempts to cling onto her were futile. Even in this form the Dark Rider was still a foot taller than her with the added difficulty of not offering much to hang on to.
Montana was thrown off, her body flying through the air before hitting the ground once, twice. She gasped, ears ringing and limbs aching as she tried to get back on her feet. ‘Keep going, keep going. You can’t waste time.’
Axe. She needed her axe. It wasn’t too far away.
Neither was Sabine.
With another scream the vampire lunged at her. There wasn’t enough time to move out the way. Both vampires rolled through the snow. The Dark Rider was going for her head, claws pressing her shoulders into the hard ground as fangs tried to get a bite out of her face.
Dodging the attacks (which was just moving her head from side to side) the girl reached for the knife strapped to her thigh. Once she got a hold of the blade she pulled it out of its pocket before ramming it into the other’s side. With as much pressure as she could she dug it as deep as her strength and position allowed for, twisting it around before removing it and repeating the action below the first stab wound. Sabine cried out in pain, one of her claws leaving Montana’s shoulder and trying to get a hold of the hand that was attacking her. With one of her shoulders freed the former blacksmith apprentice used her chance and flipped them both over. The knife was rammed into the middle of Sabine’s ribcage who in turn fully let go of the smaller girl.
Even with her unsteady legs Montana managed to get to her axe before the Dark Rider recovered enough to get on their feet.
Three potions. She had already managed to get three down. Just three more.
No biggy. Not at all.
She eyed the pair of bottles closest to her before turning back to look at Sabine, scrambling back onto her feet and screaming and screeching at her. Montana changed the grip on her weapon as the feral vampire started running towards her once again, the knife still embedded in the middle of her chest.
She couldn’t kill her. That would defeat the whole purpose of this, not to mention what Dark Core would do if they found out she had killed one of her Dark Riders.
Dropping to her knees just before the Rider had a chance to get a grip on her she rammed the shorter side of the axe into their shin and immediately pulled it out again.
It wasn’t deep enough to sever the leg, just a flesh wound to slow the other down (she might be suicidal but not crazy enough that she’d want to experience Florences’ wrath for cutting off her partners limbs).
Sabine toppled over her, crashing face-first into the snow while screaming in agony. In a matter of seconds Montana dove over to the potions stashed in the snow. Behind her the Dark Rider was already crawling towards her, snow and dirty flying through the air as she did. The last few meters were a half-walk-half-crawl attempt from Sabines side before she once again lunged directly at her face.
One of her hands which had been holding a bottle of supplement came up as a reflex and this time it was Montana's turn to cry out in pain. Fangs pierced through cloth and flesh, digging into muscles and threatening to crush the bones of her forearm.
Reaching for the knife still stuck in the other's chest, which had disappeared almost completely between skin and bones due to her fall, the smaller girl pulled it out before ramming it back into purple skin, aiming for the patch of skin between shoulder and collar bone. She gritted her teeth, twisting the knife around the wound and, finally, her arm was freed. Putting all her energy behind it Montana kicked her leg up and against Sabine’s side, sending her to the ground, right next to the second potion.
Her foot slammed down on the vampire's chest, pushing her flat against the snow before dropping down to her knees. One hand quickly pinched the Riders nose as the other uncapped the bottle, pressing it against her lips. Nails scratched against her legs and torso causing her to let out a pained hiss.
The empty bottle was thrown away, lost somewhere among the mix of white and red snow, Montana’s hand immediately reaching for the next potion. She just so managed to avoid having her arm chomped on a second time before thrusting the next bottle against Sabine’s lips. ‘One more. Just one more’ The thought kept pinging around her head as the second bottle was emptied. She had to hurry, had to get to another stack of potions, fast. Just as soon as she had stood up Sabine had scrambled to go after her. Something pierced her leg again, a scream ,not unlike the ones from Sabine, leaving her lips as teeth and fangs bore into her calf. Without thinking too much about it Montana turned around, grabbing her axe and swinging it at Sabine’s side. The metal pierced through skin and flesh, a scream that almost made her blood freeze ringing through the air.
This was fine. It would be fine. They had Lisa and Cornelia and Florence. They could patch up Sabine.
Leaving the weapon stuck in the bigger vampire’s side the former blacksmith apprentice made a run for the nearest potion stack, picking up both bottles just in case. One was put into her pocket, the other she kept in her hand.
As she sprinted back to where Sabine was kneeling on the ground her free hand reached for her axe and pulled it out the Ridere’s side. The unopened potion was put between her teeth in order to wrap both hands around the wooden handle. She raised her leg, the sole of her boot colliding with the Rider’s chest as she kicked her opponent flat onto their back.
Heart racing she swung the weapon down.
The scream that followed as metal pierce through skin and bones would’ve sent birds flying if there were any. Sabine was struggling against the blade, screeching as the more she moved the deeper the metal cut into her shoulder. It had cut through flesh and bone, going straight through her shoulder and into the snow-covered ground.
Sabine was effectively pinned down.
Montana’s hands shook slightly as she uncapped the bottle, squatting down beside the raving vampire and pinching her nose. One of her knees dropped to the ground as her other leg pressed against the pierced shoulder. An almost perfect mirror of the position she had used to get the second potion down her throat. As soon as another scream tore through the air the girl pressed the bottle against Sabine’s lips.
Once the last drop of liquid was gone Montana removed the bottle, standing up on shaky legs and simply letting the glass fall from her hands. Her whole body was trembling. Heart racing. ‘This was enough, right?’
The next scream that tore through the air pulled her back to reality. She hurried to pull the axe out of the Rider’s shoulder, the cry cutting through the forest as soon as the metal was removed being more reminiscent of a wounded animal than a human being.
Which they weren’t. They weren’t human beings, why should they sound like them?
Panting from exhaustion she started to back away from Sabine, dropping her axe only a couple meters away while her shaking legs carried her a bit further. She watched as Sabine cried and screamed, curling up on her side as the red area around her shoulder grew bigger.
The Dark Rider wasn’t going after her anymore, that meant the supplement must’ve been enough.
Right?
Only after the axe marked a sort of halfway point between the two vampires did she allow herself to collapse in the snow. The purple seemed to slowly fade from Sabine’s skin.
The freezing winds cutting across the bite wounds on her leg and arm weren’t even half as bad as what she had done to Sabine but god, did they still hurt like a bitch. She was faintly aware of the claw marks scattered across her body, though they were only a dull ache compared to where Sabine’s fangs had nearly crushed her bones.
God, how bad must the Riders shoulder and leg hurt, then?
Somewhere in the back of her brain she could register that the barrier had fallen, at least if the shocked gasps to her left were anything to go by. The area must’ve looked like a battlefield. Both of them were drenched in blood, their own as well as from the other, while at least half of the once fluffy snow that covered the area had turned into pink slush.
In a matter of seconds Florence and Khaan were by Sabine’s side, trying to calm her down and assessing the damage. The screaming and crying did send a pang of guilt through Montana’s stomach. She had beaten her up pretty bad.
Then again Sabine had messed up her face. They were basically even now.
Florence was shaking her head as her hands did their best to sooth Sabines crying from.
“Fuck me, Montana. We’re you trying to fucking kill her?”
“This was kinder. Trust me.” After trying, and failing, to get back onto her feet the former blacksmith let out a pained groan. The leg that had been bitten by Sabine was aching horribly. She felt like passing out. “And for the record, no, I wasn’t trying to kill her. I was trying to stay fucking alive while she went for my head. Multiple times.”
Before going to sleep, I thought I could put out my small thing for the second prompt :)
Prompt 2: Undead
Before I will go back to the present happenings with the third prompt, I thought this would be a nice opportunity to look into where Cornelia's mind and morality broke into what plagues her mentally so deeply. So just a small introspective basically!
Day 64
@dark-rider-pr
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
TW: body horror, medical issues, description of said issue, MINOR mention of suicide (Montana, Cornelia…thank you for that), injury, uhhhh general mcfuckery that comes with turning into a vampire, OH MORTALITY REALISATIONS, minor vomiting
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
hi hi here's my writing for the first prompt for RoFD which is music!! Im also debating uploading it to ao3... just so ya'll can have all the prompt writings in one easy place.
@dark-rider-pr
Im sorry for the sadness I was listening to ethel cain while writing this so whoopsie.
Although if you want to hurt yourself like me I'd recomend listening to her " Televangilsim" or " Sun Bleached Flies" while reading. just a bit more heartbreak lmfao.
small content warnings: small mention of blood, angsty
wc: 845
Blaire shivered as she walked alongside Storm, the steady drumming of rain only intensifying the chill in her bones. The sky was a dull gray, casting a cold, unforgiving light over the landscape. The leaves around her were turning—the one small beauty she could still find in this broken world. They drifted down in shades of yellow, orange, and red, carpeting the ground like a final, fleeting promise of life. But even here, among the autumn colors, she could spot dark stains on the forest floor, patches where blood, fresh or faded, told silent stories of struggles lost to time.
She wrapped her worn jacket tighter around herself, though it offered little warmth anymore. Humming quietly to herself, she kept her head down, focusing on each step along the muddy path. Walking had become her refuge; it was the only way to shake off the lingering stiffness from her last "tree nap"—an uncomfortable rest bound to a thick branch high above the ground. Sleeping in a tree wasn’t ideal, but in a world where survival meant staying a step ahead of the infected, comfort was a distant memory.
As she walked through the quiet, damp woods, her eyes caught sight of a small cabin tucked between the trees. She paused, heart quickening. The cabin looked abandoned—its windows broken, door slightly ajar, belongings scattered as if in a hasty retreat. Shelters like these were rare, and Blaire’s instincts urged her to investigate. She gestured to Storm to stay alert and moved forward, her hand tight around the knife in her grip. Better to be paranoid than dead.
Inside, she found only silence. The cabin was truly empty, not a soul in sight. She quickly shoved a chair against the door, blocking it to keep herself safe. She scanned the room, noting the scattered furniture and overturned drawers, remnants of someone else's panic. Her gaze landed on a small fireplace, and she felt a surge of triumph. A fire would be a blessing in this cold, damp weather, a small comfort that she hadn’t experienced in too long. But then her eyes drifted to something else—a piano, an old upright nestled against the wall, its polished wood dulled by dust and neglect.
Blaire hesitated, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a piano, much less touched one. Almost reverently, she walked over and sat down on the worn bench, her fingers hovering above the keys. She lifted the lid, brushing away dust, and let her fingertips graze the ivory. Even after all this time, her hands instinctively found their position, her muscles remembering the patterns of long-forgotten songs. Tentatively, she pressed down, and a low, wavering chord echoed through the cabin, each note slightly off but still familiar.
She winced at the sound—the piano was in desperate need of tuning. But something in the rough, broken notes felt right, like the instrument understood the fractured world outside its walls. Slowly, she began to play a melody she knew well, a tune from her childhood, simple and comforting. The notes filled the cabin, pushing back the silence, the melancholy lilt carrying her back to a time when music was a source of warmth, not a fleeting memory.
As she played, her eyes slipped shut, and the rain outside seemed to fade away. For a few precious moments, she could almost pretend she was somewhere else—safe, warm, whole. But reality crept back in, a chill sweeping over her as the song’s last note faded. She opened her eyes, her fingers lingering on the keys, reluctant to let go.
A sudden creak from outside jolted her back into survival mode. Her body tensed, knife back in hand, ears straining for any sound beyond the quiet patter of rain. She glanced at Storm, who stood alert, his ears pricked, eyes scanning the shadows beyond the cabin’s walls. There was nothing, only the relentless rain and the weight of the world outside.
The piano suddenly felt like a relic, a piece of a life she could no longer afford. Shaking off the spell it had cast, she rose from the bench and set her knife within easy reach. She moved to the fireplace, gathering what little firewood she could find, managing to coax a small flame to life. As the warmth began to seep into her, she let her gaze fall on the piano one last time. In another world, she might have stayed longer, filling the cabin with music. Here, music was a luxury, a whisper of a past she couldn’t reclaim.
Sitting close to the fire, she began to hum softly, a faint echo of the tune she’d just played. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a small piece of herself she could still hold on to, hidden and safe in a world turned cold and unforgiving. As the rain continued to fall outside, she closed her eyes and let the warmth of the fire and the lingering memory of music wrap around her, if only for a little while.
