Narnia AUs?? love 'em @postapocalyptic-narnia - Tumblr Blog

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just a writing update: I haven’t abandoned this story, nor do I plan too. Life has been busy in a good way, and writing is going slowly. If anyone wants to talk about the story to help get the creative juices flowing, feel free to dm me or send an ask!

#not writing

thegayshitposter

pevensie-trash

@postapocalyptic-narnia @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories

I’m lookin at y’all

#why am i crying in the club????#this is SO sweet #thank you!!!#not writing

Just so you know I turned notifications on so I won’t ever miss a new chapter again! I adore your story especially the characterization of Aravis and Shasta, it’s spot on! 100000/10 anyway just thought you should know! 😄

!!! that makes me SO happy! hearing people’s reactions to or thoughts on this story makes my heart turn into fireworks !

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 7, Part 2 Word count: 1172

Immediate impressions: it was dark, dusty, and cramped in the air duct. To pull himself forward, he had to crawl arm over arm, bracing his elbows against the sides. dragging against the sides. He paused only a few meters in. His belabored breath echoed loudly in the darkness. This could be a very long journey. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember Bree’s words of encouragement. “You’ve beat every storm so far,” he muttered.

“Pardon?”

Shasta jerked back violently, banging his head against the top of the duct. There was someone else in the vent. “Who’s there?”

“I was about to ask the same thing. I’m afraid this vent isn’t big enough for the two of us.” They paused. “In a space way, not a challenging-you-to-a-fight way. Although I’d be happy to box a few rounds if I ever get out of this stupid air duct.”

“I would rather not,” Shasta said. “Is there an exit nearby where you’re coming from?”

“You have to go for a while. I think the nearest vent is behind you.”

“There is, a little way back,” Shasta said. “I need to get out of the capitol complex, though.”

“Oh, perfect. If we both scoot back and hop out of the vent, I can sketch you a map and then we can get around each other.”

“Alright,” he said, scooting backwards. His borrowed shirt rode up and streaked his stomach with dust. His fellow vent-crawler had to be up to no good, or they wouldn’t be here; hopefully they would be quick to trade places and they could both continue their journeys before the woman returned. Maybe I should warn them about that, he thought as his foot hit the edge of the vent. “We’ll have to go fast,” he said as he swung his legs down into the open air. “Someone’s coming soon. This room belongs to a kid named Corin.” He dropped onto the side of the tipped dresser and then scrambled onto the floor.

“Oh, nice!” said the other, their voice echoing in the vents. Shasta couldn’t guess the contortions they were putting themselves through, but after a few seconds one skinny leg emerged from the vent, soon joined by a second.

“Not really,” Shasta said, glancing nervously at the door.

“No, it’s okay,” they said, leaping down onto the dresser with a thud, then spinning to face Shasta. “”Cause I’m-- ahhh!”

Shasta stood stock-still as the boy flailed, losing his balance and falling onto the bed. He hadn’t seen his reflection much; the fisherman had no mirror, and the sea was never smooth, so his image of himself came from puddles on the storm-flooded highway and the curved metal fender of speeder’s bikes. But he saw immediately: they had the same face. This must be Corin. This threw a wrench in his plan to escape undetected.

Corin was not taking this encounter as calmly. He scrambled upright, bouncing on the mattress’s creaking springs. “Holy crap! Holy crap! Who are you?” he demanded, pointing at Shasta. “Why do you look like me? What in the name of the High King’s hairy I’m-not-going-to-finish-this-sentence is going on?!”

“Can you keep it down?” Shasta said.

“Probably not!” Corin said, bouncing more vigorously. “This is nuts! This is so cool!”

“Okay, I need to go,” Shasta said, climbing onto the dresser once more.

“Is that my shirt?” Corin asked. “Hold up.” Shasta froze as his voice sharpened. “Am I dreaming?”

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” said Shasta. “Which way do I go to get out of the capitol complex?”

“Pass seven vents, take a left at the T.”

“Thank you,” Shasta said, already halfway into the vent.

“Nice meeting you, doppelganger,” Corin called after him. Then the door opened, someone gasped, and Corin said “Susan! You’ll never guess who I just met!” Too late, Shasta tucked his legs up after him.

Shasta sat on the bed, shoulders hunched, while the woman he’d spoken to earlier tipped the dresser upright with a thud and shoved it back into place against the wall. Corin sat beside him, fidgeting. The woman-- Susan-- began shoving clothes back into the drawers. Shasta flinched when she grabbed a shirt near his feet.

“It’s okay,” Corin whispered. “She’s thinking.”

She didn’t look like she was thinking, she looked like she was going to throw him in prison. He had officially reached the end of his courage. He stared at the tile like he could bore his way straight through the earth and escape that way. He’d gotten into the city, snuck through the checkpoint, infiltrated the capitol complex, and escaped discovery through a quarter hour in the presence of high-level imperial officials, and it wasn’t enough. Maybe Aravis would be satisfied with almost making it, with pulling off so many daring acts before being caught. He would have preferred a quiet end to the adventure.

Susan closed each dresser drawer and came to stand before them, arms crossed. “You’re the real Corin,” she said, nodding at Corin. “So you,” she shifted her gaze to Shasta, “are the speeder imposter that Rabadash was fussing about, and probably stole a motorcycle from across the gulf a week ago. Is that correct?”

He kept his eyes on the floor, feeling that if he looked up he’d see the fisherman looming over him, spitting. Idiot! They’ve been tracking you all along.

“When I saw him, I thought Ed had finally made good on his threat to replace me,” Corin said, laughing nervously. Shasta wanted to warn him to keep quiet. He dodged when she bent toward Corin-- but instead of boxing his ears, she pulled him into a tight hug. Shasta’s chest seized up as if she had grabbed him instead. Corin wrapped his arms around her, burying his head in her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to get separated, I swear. I was just going to explore the cities and then I got into a fight and-- I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“The important thing is that you’re back,” she said, pulling back and smoothing his hair. “We were worried that you’d left the city somehow-- Tumnus was reporting garbled signals from the coast, and we thought you might have been kidnapped or--” she shook her head. The maternal concern was so clear in her voice that he felt almost uncomfortable overhearing. She was distracted, but he something kept him from trying to make a run for it. “We still haven’t heard word from the fleet, the emperor is refusing to open peace talks, and we haven’t been able to get our tech to work smoothly since we reached the city. It’s time to cut our losses and get back to Narnia, before the next storm hits.”

It took a second for her words to click. “Did you say Narnia?” Shasta asked.

She straightened, tilting her chin. “I’ll be expecting an explanation--”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry,” he said, his heart pounding as he interrupted. “But who are you?”

Corin cleared his throat. “This is Queen Susan, ruler of Narnia.”

Tag list:

#any way the wind blows #post-apocalyptic narnia au #shasta #corin #susan #AHHHH #i lovm them

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 7, Part 1 Word count: 862

The woman rounded on Rabadash. She was as tall as he was, and the disgust in her eyes cut off his objection. “Negotiations will resume tomorrow. Perhaps by then your advisors will have written you a sufficiently repentant apology to give.” She grabbed Shasta’s arm and stormed out of the courtyard.

---

Shasta had to trot to keep up with the woman. The dark shape he’d thought was a cloak was actually her hair-- dozens of long black braids spilling down her back, fluttering like flags as she strode through the halls.

“Thank you for stopping him from kicking me,” Shasta said meekly.

“I wish I hadn’t let him touch you at all,” she said, turning a corner. “Pig. He won’t tell me a thing I need to know-- not about the border, not about the blackouts, not about the searches-- just false compliments and mocking comments. Don’t think I’m not angry about you disappearing, by the way. As soon as I’ve told my brother that we found you, we’re going to have a serious talk.”

“I’m sorry,” Shasta said. His efforts at making a mental map of their route were thwarted by the sheer number of turns they took. He ducked his head as they passed oil-stained mechanics and richly-dressed ladies, but the woman did not acknowledge them. She had to be someone important, then. Was Corin her son? This was a mess. I’m still alive, he reminded himself. And so is Aravis. Hope isn’t lost yet.

“Communications are still down, so I have to go fetch people myself,” she said. “I’ll take you to your room so you can change out of that dirty uniform, and then you’re going to stay there until I come back, okay?” They passed another open lawn, with a fountain trickling on the far side.

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

“You don’t have to yes ma’am me,” she sighed. “It’s a weight off my chest to have you back. I’m sure-- I trust that you have a good explanation when I get back.” She turned the corner and stopped so abruptly before a door that he nearly ran into her. She grabbed the doorknob; a light flicked on. “We had to cobble together fingerprint scanners from the imperial scrap pile after another break-in. We scanned for microphones, so you’re safe there, too,” she said, pushing the door open. A bed, a dresser, a massive screen. No windows, this far underground. No other door. The woman studied him, expression softening. “Don’t look so worried. You’re safe. You got back safe.” She wrapped him in a hug so unexpected and so warm that tears pricked his eyes. “Everything’s going to work out.” He could almost believe her. Then she let go and left, and the door clicked shut behind her.

Shasta counted to twenty after she left, then tried the doorknob. The light blinked red. The knob didn’t turn. Maybe Corin could have gotten out, but apparently he didn’t share the boy’s fingerprints. There was nothing under the bed or behind the screen. There were clean clothes in the dresser, as promised, and he stripped off his mud-crusted speeder uniform and peeled the crusty bandages off his leg before changing into fresh clothes. That done, he sat on the dresser, legs swinging like pendulums.

The good news: neither he nor Aravis had been discovered yet-- and that was no small feat, he reminded himself sternly. He had fresh clothes. The injury on his leg was healing, smooth and pink. If he could escape, he even had an alias to use in the city until he found the embassy.

The bad news: he didn’t have Bree. Aravis was gone. News of their encounter with Emeth had reached the city and both of their identities had been discovered. He didn’t know where the Narnian embassy was, and if he was still around when the woman from the garden found out he wasn’t Corin he’d almost certainly be turned over to that nasty Rabadash. He put his head between his knees and groaned.

But the same strange determination that had driven him to follow Aravis before propelled him to his feet again. Maybe it was Bree’s encouraging words earlier-- they had overcome every obstacle so far. He hadn’t come this far to give in now. He shook out the pockets of the speeder uniform. Aravis must have her gun-- the thought brought him an equal mixture of apprehension and relief-- but a half-packet of crackers, a dozen honey capsules, and the screwdriver tumbled onto the floor. He stuffed the food into the spacious pockets of his new pants, tucked a lint-covered honey capsule into his cheek, and took the screwdriver in his hand. To his disappointment, the door’s hinges were shielded, perhaps as a result of the break-ins the woman had mentioned. He took stock of the room again. Concrete floor, bed, dresser, massive screen set into the wall, bare walls… and a ceiling vent.

A few minutes later, he had shoved the bed out from under the vent and tipped the dresser on its side beneath it instead. One of the drawers had opened, spilling Corin’s underclothes across the floor. Clambering from the bed onto the end of the dresser, he found himself handily within reach of the ceiling. To his delight, he didn’t even need the screwdriver; the vent cover had just been set into place, easily pushed aside. He stowed his screwdriver and dragged himself up into the air duct.

Tag list:

#any way the wind blows #post-apocalyptic narnia au #shasta #*mission impossible theme*

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 6, Part 6 Word count: 985

“An unfortunate effect of the depth, I’m afraid,” the man was saying. Shasta could see fragments of them between the leaves: the man was heavy-set, but sounded young. The woman was tall, with a dark cape fluttering behind. He couldn’t see their faces.

“That conveniently began as soon as we passed the gate?” the woman said.

“I would be happy to launch an investigation into the matter, if you wish,” the man said. His voice was too smooth, like each word hid a mocking smile.

“I doubt it would be more successful than your others,” the woman said archly, pausing on the lawn. Neither wore uniforms, but the realization only gave Shasta a sliver of relief; neither the foliage nor the shadow would completely hide the red of the speeder uniform if they looked too intently in his direction.

“My lady, I can’t imagine what you mean.”

“The speeders sent to Calavar,” she said without amusement. “The citywide search this morning, the microphones in our quarters-- and don’t think I believe that your father authorized this meeting. You think you have eyes everywhere, a finger on every pulse, but all your schemings come up dry.” The woman’s voice was even, cold. “You aren’t emperor yet, Rabadash.”

“But I’m far closer than you ever will be,” he said. “And you would do well not to try me.” He paced with heavy footfalls. Shasta shrank back as he approached their hiding place. His hand found Aravis’s.

“I am not trying you, like an impertinent child,” the woman said, raising her voice. “And it is precisely because you are so close to the emperor that I refuse to believe that you do not know where he is!”

“I am not responsible to--” Rabadash’s voice faded as he stopped in front of the shrub. Too late, Shasta realized that his foot had slipped, the edge of his boot just barely peeking from the shadows. With a rustle, the branches parted to reveal Rabadash’s smirking face. Lightning-fast, he dragged Shasta out by the collar, kicking his legs from under him when he tried to stand. The fall knocked the air from his lungs. “What do we have here?” The woman inhaled sharply. “And another one!” He shoved Aravis to the ground beside Shasta.

“Sir,” Aravis said, pressing her head to the ground. Shasta tried to copy the pose.

“Sneaking into the complex for an illicit rendezvous?” Rabadash said, leering.

“We didn’t mean any harm, sir,” Aravis said.

“I didn’t ask you,” he snapped. She said nothing. “Are you on-duty, boy? What’s your name?” Shasta didn’t answer. His uniform was still only half-zipped and sharp blades of grass pricked his chest. He couldn’t think of a story that could get them out of this. Rabadash’s expression changed, growing suspicious. “Or are you here for something more sinister? What’s your identification code?” When he hesitated again, Rabdash seized his arm, nearly yanking it from its socket as he pulled back Shasta’s sleeve. “You’re the false speeder!” His foot flashed out, aimed at Shasta’s head, but the woman shoved him aside. Shasta rolled out of the way, catching sight of the woman’s face at last.

“Stop that!” she ordered.

“These are criminals,” Rabadash snapped. “A report came in from the girl’s brother a few hours ago. This boy stole a speeder uniform and kidnapped her.”

“You must be mistaken,” the woman said, her voice flint-hard. “This boy is named Corin, whom your speeders have failed to find him for two days.” She swept past a stunned Rabadash. She had dark skin and narrow, searching eyes; her thick braids slipped past her shoulders as she knelt beside Shasta. Her expression gentle as Rabadash’s was harsh. “Great skies, Corin, are you alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said instinctively. “I-- uh--” he shot a desperate look at Aravis. Help.

“Is this the woman you were looking for?” Aravis asked.

“Yes,” he said, clutching the story like a lifeline. “Yes, thank you so much for helping me find her.”

“Who is this young woman?” the woman said, offering Shasta a hand. Her wrist was stacked with brightly colored cuffs. He took it and stood, head spinning.

“Uh, I forgot to ask her name,” he said, with an uncomfortable chuckle. “I asked her to help me find my way back once I realized I was lost.”

“And that led you to hide behind a bush in one of the emperor’s private gardens with--” The woman glanced at Aravis to fill in her name.

“Zardeenah, my lady,” Aravis said smoothly. “I was shopping for my mistress when I met Corin and I was afraid if we got caught, word would get back to her and I would be punished.”

“And who is your mistress?” Rabadash asked, arms crossed over his chest like a sulking child.

Aravis hesitated. “Lasaraleen of Mezreel.”

“Don’t report her,” the woman ordered Rabadash, without sparing him a glance. “She did us a valuable service-- and you too. If it had been up to your idiot speeders he would have been lost for good, I have little doubt.” Her voice was turning sharper, more decisive. “Zardeenah, thank you. I will send a messenger to your mistress’s house with a reward. You are free to go.” She nodded, dismissing Aravis. Shasta almost protested, logic barely overcoming the wave of distress that crashed over him. Aravis locked eyes with Shasta, lifting her chin a fraction of a centimeter.

I’ll get Bree, she mouthed. Then she nodded to the woman. “Thank you, my lady.” Turning on her heel, she hurried out.

“Surely you don’t believe that the two of them--”

Tag list:

#any way the wind blows #post-apocalyptic narnia au #aravis #shasta #rabadash #hoo boy it's fun times now #shasta is like 'but that's my emotional support aravis'#'we just officially became friends give her back'

it’s,,, them (from The Conversation in ch 6 pt 5)

#aravis #shasta #any way the wind blows #not writing

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 6, Part 5 Word count: 891

They sat against the wall, panting, staring. It was the strangest place Shasta had seen: a wide, level green space under a ring of golden lamps that filled the air with an electric hum. Spikes of flowers and twisting shrubs lined the lawn, casting pools of blue shadow. The chaos and clatter of the streets outside were faint and distant; the space amplified instead the quiet sounds of dripping water and the echo of footsteps and voices from further in. His leg had gotten hooked over hers and their hands were wrapped together and they leaned against each other without trying to untangle themselves, too tired and too relieved to move just yet.

“What is this place?” he asked.

“Capitol complex,” Aravis said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s Bree?”

“Outside. Hidden.”

“You left him?” she asked, tipping her head toward him with a frown.

“What, you thought I had him in my pocket?” He shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “It was the best I could do.”

“That’s your plan? Just hope they don’t find him?”

He bristled at her tone. He expected a rebuke from Bree, if he recovered the bike, but a tongue-lashing from Aravis was more than he could bear. “You and your plans-- I didn’t have a plan, Aravis. You had a half-dozen speeders on your tail and nowhere to go, I wasn’t about to leave you.”

“I told you to save yourself,” she said.

“Oh, we both know that was a load of rubbish.” It was irritation, or maybe the mad scramble over the wall, or maybe the scorn he imagined on her face without daring to look, that made his neck hot and his heartbeat fast. “This isn’t everyone for themselves, we’re not playing cut and run. If they’d spotted me you would have used up your bullets and then put up your fists, and don’t even try to deny it. We’re going to make it to Narnia together or not at all, and if you think I’m an idiot for going after you, I’m an idiot you’re stuck with.”

The electric lights hummed in her silence. He swallowed; he’d said his piece and that was that.

“Are you serious?” Aravis whispered, her voice as soft and uncertain as he’d ever heard it.

He let out a huff of disbelief. “Yes, I’m serious. We’re in this together.” He looked at her and her eyes dropped to his hand, still tangled in hers.

“I don’t-- I never--” She shook her head. “Thank you.” A moment of stillness, of the muted chatter of the crowd outside and the distant murmur from the capitol halls, and then a smile tugged at her lips. “You know that means you’re stuck with me, too.”

“I guess so,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder as he barely restrained a grin himself. Somehow, this was the best possible outcome. “You won’t be a pest about it, will you?” She pulled their hands swiftly to her mouth, pressing her lips to his skin. He inhaled quickly, his heart skipping a beat. Her breath was warm against his hand.

“I might be,” she said.

“Um.” For a second, he couldn’t remember what they had been talking about. “Friends, then?”

“Friends it is,” she said, squeezing his hand before letting go. “What now?”

“We need to get Bree back,” he said

“And find the Narnian embassy,” Aravis said. “It’s somewhere in this complex, but-- well, it’s called a complex for a reason.”

“If you go back out now they’ll catch you for sure.”

“Another costume change, then?” Aravis suggested. “They wouldn’t have recognized me if Las-- if my friend hadn’t drawn attention to me. If I change into your--” she glanced at his mud-streaked shirt and thread-bare shorts. “--your outfit, I might be able to look for the embassy without notice. I can pretend to be an errand girl or something. And then you can be a speeder again and go find your bike. It’s risky, but--”

“I’m in,” Shasta said, lifting his leg so Aravis could free herself. She stood with a groan that he felt in his soul. There was a logical part of him that had a ticking clock, reminding him of the urgency of the situation, but there was another part of him that, only a tiny bit quieter, that wanted to stay here forever, in this humming green courtyard. He stood, pulling off his shirt, and then stopped. “Uh, should I turn away?”

“Please.”

He complied, pulling off his shorts and holding both garments behind him. He heard the tzzz of the uniform zipper, and then she pressed fabric into his hand. He stepped into it, then Aravis hissed, “I hear something.” He froze, half-dressed. “Footsteps,” she said. “Coming this way. We need to hide.” He pulled on the uniform the rest of the way, fumbling with the zipper. Aravis darted to the corner with the thickest shrubbery. He followed her into the blue shadows, branches catching his sleeves. His back scraped the packed earth of the wall.

“Scoot over,” he whispered. “My legs are sticking out.”

“I’m already in the corner!”

“Well, flatten--”

“Shh!” With a click, the lights flicked to an austere white and they both went silent and still as stones. Aravis’ hair tickled Shasta’s ear as a man and a woman walked in.

Tag list:

#any way the wind blows #post-apocalyptic narnia au #shasta #aravis #the best thing about this duo is how they go from bickering to genuine sweetness and back in .2 seconds #ALSO THIS BIT IS PART OF THE REASON IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE #i just #needed to get it right #they are not articulate children #but they are Good

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 6, Part 4 Word count: 997

The loudspeaker crackled. “Aravis al-Layth, please return to the checkpoint.” The woman checked her screen and pointed towards Aravis, who stood frozen. “Again, Aravis al-Layth, return to the checkpoint.” The crowd around her was thinning rapidly, her cover disappearing. Shasta shoved against the tide, but he couldn’t reach her fast enough. She caught his eye on more time, then dropped Bree and bolted.

Two uniformed men hurried after her, but she dove back into the crowd like a needle through a net, the red of her uniform weaving in and out of sight like a flickering flame. The woman with the loudspeaker began shouting instructions, but the words were drowned by the rising chatter of the crowd and the pounding Shasta’s ears. People streamed freely through the unmanned checkpoint. The girl in the cart let out a piercing shriek and then leapt from her cart and flung herself at the woman with the loudspeaker, wailing hysterically. Shasta edged towards Bree. Someone grabbed his shoulder-- one of the officials.

“You!” he shouted over the hubbub. “Take this bike to shed D,” he said, kicking one of Bree’s dusty tires, then turning to marshal the flow of people as the overturned carts forming the checkpoint were slowly pushed aside. Shasta pulled the bike upright. He was sweating profusely, despite the cool sunless air. He’d lost Aravis. The streets were in chaos. He could still see a few of her pursuers, brandishing handguns to clear space before them. He shuffled in the direction the official had pointed. Shed D.

He strode mechanically, slapping Bree’s nav screen without hope of it brightening. He felt like a storm was building pressure behind his eyes, with every thought splintering and sparking. He desperately wished someone would take his shoulders and tell him what to do, and save him from making this choice. He should’ve just stayed in the seascraper, he thought, eyes pricking, and then all this would never have happened.

Then he straightened, suddenly irritated with himself. Oh, suck it up, he thought, glancing over his shoulder, a strange determination coming over him. I don’t want to go back to the seascraper and I don’t need anyone telling me what to do. He veered from his path, toward a stack of plastic crates, ducked under red tape and shoving the motorcycle between the crates. I already know what to do. He hastily kicking the crates into a formation that would hide the bike to a passerby, sucking in a breath. “I’m sorry, Bree,” he whispered, already ducking back under the tape. “I’ll come back if I can,” he said, and then plunged into the crowd. He needed to find Aravis.

The crowd seethed in the city center. He couldn’t think of the passers-by as people-- the road was a treacherous channel, full of cross-currents and unexpected tides. Even with vigorous use of his elbows, it was slow-going. The conspicuous red uniforms of her pursuers had disappeared around the curve of the street. Think like Aravis. She was quick, but he doubted she could outrun a half-dozen fully-grown adults for long, especially as tired as she seemed to be. He hadn’t heard gunshots; either she had been taken without a fight, or she had shaken them somehow. If she were still wearing that scarlet uniform-- she must have hidden. He broke free from the crowd and pressed his back against a blank-faced building, trying to catch his breath. He scanned the branching maze of identical buildings, sweeping aside his doubts. Crates and pallets, alcoves and alleys; he had to trust that she had found a place to hide. His challenge was to find that hiding place before they did. Shasta squeezed his eyes shut, gathering resolve to continue the search. He’d find her in time. He had to.

A pebble hit his ear. He blinked, glancing down. Not a pebble-- a capsule of crystallized honey, sticky with red lint. Lips parting, he looked up, squinting against the brightness of the electric lights to make out a dark shape wedged between the buildings. A second later, Aravis dropped to the ground beside him, staggering as she landed. He almost laughed aloud. She pulled him into the shadowed gap between buildings, clutching his arm for balance.

“You’re okay!” he whispered.

“My legs were about to give out,” she said, panting.

“We’d better move quick,” he said, poking his head out of the alley to scan the street.

She nodded. “I just wanted to say goodbye,” she said. “And give you--”

“I said we need to move,” he interrupted.

Aravis only seemed to process every other word. “Where?”

There were two red spots in the distance. A few sheds. Narrow streets, narrower alleys, and in the center, a walled compound draped with red ribbons. His lips curled into a smile. Aravis was already shaking her head. “The big restricted building,” he said. “They won’t check inside because they think you’ll be caught at the door. C’mon!” He hurried out into the street; a split second later she followed, linking arms with him, eyes flickering wildly.

“Because I will be caught at the door. If we even make it that far!”

“Unless--”

“That wall is three meters tall, Shasta,” she said as they wove through the crowd. They were almost there. They were there, staring up the smooth mass of packed earth. He cocked his head, calculating. “I see a speeder,” she hissed. “Shasta, you need to run before they catch me--”

“When I count to three, I’ll boost you up and you scramble over lightning-quick,” he interrupted.

“But--”

He laced his fingers together. “One, two--”

“Okay!” She stepped into his hands, rubber sole digging into his palms, and he heaved her up. She scrabbled for a hold and he braced against the wall.

“Speeder, that area is restricted!” He didn’t turn to see who had spotted them. She stepped on his shoulder, swaying as she grabbed the top of the wall, and then her weight lifted.“Speeder!” A wild excitement thrilled through his veins. Aravis straddled the wall, straining to reach him. Shasta took a few steps back and jumped as high as he could. “Young man, stop right now!” He caught the edge and Aravis’ fingers clamped like iron around his wrists. A second later and they were both over, landing with a thump on soft green turf.

Tag list:

#any way the wind blows #post-apocalyptic narnia au #shasta #aravis #we're back babyyyy!!!

i’ve got updates written & queued for every friday of january and i’m feeling good! :D

#not writing

postapocalyptic-narnia

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 6, Part 3 Word count: 1268

His lungs constricted to the size of a pin, panic strangling his breath. “Aravis!” A meter away, her head turned. He had only seen her expression once before– on a drowning man.

“Don’t shout my name.”

“I thought something happened to you,” he said, shoving his way to her side.

“If something happens to me, you keep your head down and pretend we’ve never met!” she hissed.

“You’re being paranoid,” he accused, falling into step beside her.

“I’m not being– well, I have good reason!” She huffed, craning her neck. “Why are people shouting? What’s going on up ahead?”

Shasta stood on tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd. A bubble of space had formed around two women shouting at each other. “Some kind of fight?”

“Oh, good,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “Stay to the side.” She skirted the solid ring of spectators without sparing them a glance.

“Speeder! There’s a fight–” An old man grabbed Aravis’ sleeve.

She yanked her arm free. “Don’t touch me,” she spat. “I don’t have time to settle petty disputes.” They pushed ahead. Shasta glanced at Aravis: narrowed eyes, gritted teeth, knuckles white on Bree’s handlebars. She scratched her chin so savagely she left sharp pink streaks. She caught him looking.

“Are you–”

“Shasta,” she interrupted, then shook her head. “The city’s laid out barracks, commodity businesses, residences, government buildings and imperial industries. It looks like we’re getting to the residences–” her voice was drowned out by the wailing of a siren, and they were shoved to the side by a wave of people as another cart passed. Shasta grabbed her wrist before they got shoved apart. “–getting to the residences,” she continued as traffic resumed. “If things go right– if we can keep our heads down– we’ll make it to the capitol complex in an hour. Then what?”

“Then…” Shasta released her arm and tapped Bree’s nav screen. Still nothing. “We just have to find the embassy. Maybe we could ask someone– what if you found a place to hide with Bree, and I ask around, no one here knows me–”

She jerked her chin in a nod. “The bottom level is a mess– pipelines and elevators and alleys and restricted sheds everywhere. I could find somewhere to hide, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay?”

She nodded again, sharply. “Okay.”

“See, we have a plan now,” he said. “It’s going to be fine.”

Underground, the air was heavy and hard to breathe. Shasta longed for a breeze. He would choose a hut in Bithersee over these stifled mansions. Better the burning sun than no sun at all.

There were storm beacons, even down here, clinging like flies to the tunnel ceiling between flickering lights. Less familiar were the chutes in the outer wall that sent a metal box flying up a cable, loaded with sacks. Shasta wished he could ask the worker that loaded it where it was going– to an upper level? To the surface? What he could’ve done with one of those in the seascraper.

His stomach grumbled. He had no idea how much time had passed. He had grown accustomed to the screeching sirens and rattling carts, shuffling instinctively to the side as they passed. If his hunger and tired feet were anything to go by, they should be getting close.

Then they hit a solid mass of unmoving pedestrians, grumbling under their breaths. Shasta instinctively moved closer to Bree and Aravis. Twenty meters ahead, the passenger of a stopped cart shrilly demanded an explanation.

Even further up, a woman rose above the crowd, holding a loudspeaker. There was an ear-piercing squeal, and the crowd went quiet. “You are approaching a routine temporary checkpoint,” she said, her voice crackling with static. “Speeders, governmental employees, and citizens with vehicles, please move RIGHT. Everyone else, move LEFT. Again, this is a routine temporary checkpoint. There is no reason for alarm and anyone creating a disruption or trying to evade the checkpoint will be subject to further inspections.”

“Routine temporary checkpoint?” muttered a man near Shasta.

Shasta’s throat was suddenly very dry. He met Aravis’ eyes. “Do you think they’re looking for–”

Her face was ashen. “You take Bree. I’ll distract them.”

“Stop that,” he said, reaching across the motorcycle to grab her hand as she reached for the pistol bulging in her pocket. “Let’s at least try to get through.”

“But we have to take separate lines,” Aravis said. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. “If someone recognizes me you might not be able to get to Bree and then it’ll be screwed up for both of us–”

“It’s going to be fine,” he whispered. He knew his eyes were as wide as hers and his heartbeat just as frantic, but he mustered every ounce of calm and squeezed her hand. “Here, I have an idea.” He rubbed his hand on Bree’s fender and then held up his filthy palm. “Dirty your face. You’ll match the uniform better and your picture less.”

“The uniform is pretty gross,” she whispered shakily, wiping her hand across the fender and then across her face, leaving stripes of mud.

“Vehicles and government employees to the RIGHT, others to the LEFT,” shouted the woman with the loudspeaker.

“You look like you lost a fight with a mud monster,” Shasta whispered. “It’s perfect.”

“Okay. Okay. It’s going to be fine,” she said, pushing her hair back and muddying her ear in the process. “Good luck.” She began hauling the bike to the line forming on the right.

“You too.” He watched her progress for a few seconds, then turned to his own line and realized that it was significantly longer. He swiped his muddy hand across his face and shirt then pushed his way forward, ignoring disgruntled curses and ducking a fist swung at his ear. Aravis slipped into place between a man in a green uniform and another speeder, leaning impatiently against his bike. He turned to Aravis, gesturing at the checkpoint, and she shook her head vigorously. Shasta wished he were there to hear what was happening. The checkpoint had been hastily made by a few overturned carts, with a cluster of uniformed officials waving people through. On the other side, a half dozen carts were lined up in a sea of pedestrians. Past that– Shasta’s breath caught in his chest. Was that the lowest level of the city? A brightly-lit maze, with proper streets and buildings surrounding a walled compound. He reached the checkpoint. The official barely glanced at his dirtied fisherman clothes. “Name?”

“Uh, Emeth, sir.”

“You can go.” Shasta passed through and immediately looked for Aravis. A few seconds later she passed through, head ducked. He waded towards her. She lifted her chin, rising onto her toes to scan the crowd. Their eyes met.

“Aravis?!” An unfamiliar voice rose shrilly over the murmur. Aravis’ head swiveled towards the carts. “Aravis, is that you?” She ducked her head, but it was too late. Everything happen at once: the girl leapt to her feet in one of the stopped carts, waving wildly; the checkpoint guards’ heads jerked up at the sound of the name they were looking for; Aravis’ limbs went loose, her eyes round as saucers.

Tag list:

Keep reading

#reblogging to prep for my first actual update in a while #which will be posted tomorrow!!!!

While I slowly but surely chug towards a point where I can start posting chapters regularly, I thought I’d share some non-plot-related trivia about this au:

-Any Way the Wind Blows takes place after a global apocalypse (fun...!) -Climate change -> resource depletion -> nuclear war -> short-term nuclear winter -basically now the climate is screwed up and powerful storm systems blow across the massive oceans every few weeks -the war was started by Jadis, the prime minister of a nuclear state. the “deplorable word” she spoke was her giving the code to launch first-strike nuclear missiles -exiled from her country, Jadis seized control of large swathes of territory during the nuclear winter -her regime was toppled, but now power is concentrated in the hands of the Calormen empire, who maintain control of the earth’s remaining oil reserves -except! for a few elusive states that hold firm against the encroachment of Calormen territory -none of these are fun why am I sharing -oh here’s a fun one! -Zardeenah is a near-mythical hero from the Fever (the first, climate-change-based phase of the apocalypse). She organized a fleet of motorcycle-riding young women into a network of messengers and emergency respondents that traveled by night due to near-lethal daytime temperatures; Zardeenah’s night fleet later gave rise to the empire’s fleet of speeders

#not writing #post-apocalyptic narnia au #have this! i guess!#zardeenah #jadis

Do you mind adding me to the tag list?

I’d be happy to!

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 6, Part 3 Word count: 1268

His lungs constricted to the size of a pin, panic strangling his breath. “Aravis!” A meter away, her head turned. He had only seen her expression once before-- on a drowning man.

“Don’t shout my name.”

“I thought something happened to you,” he said, shoving his way to her side.

“If something happens to me, you keep your head down and pretend we’ve never met!” she hissed.

“You’re being paranoid,” he accused, falling into step beside her.

“I’m not being-- well, I have good reason!” She huffed, craning her neck. “Why are people shouting? What’s going on up ahead?”

Shasta stood on tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd. A bubble of space had formed around two women shouting at each other. “Some kind of fight?”

“Oh, good,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “Stay to the side.” She skirted the solid ring of spectators without sparing them a glance.

“Speeder! There’s a fight--” An old man grabbed Aravis’ sleeve.

“Are you--”

“Shasta,” she interrupted, then shook her head. “The city’s laid out barracks, commodity businesses, residences, government buildings and imperial industries. It looks like we’re getting to the residences--” her voice was drowned out by the wailing of a siren, and they were shoved to the side by a wave of people as another cart passed. Shasta grabbed her wrist before they got shoved apart. “--getting to the residences,” she continued as traffic resumed. “If things go right-- if we can keep our heads down-- we’ll make it to the capitol complex in an hour. Then what?”

“Then…” Shasta released her arm and tapped Bree’s nav screen. Still nothing. “We just have to find the embassy. Maybe we could ask someone-- what if you found a place to hide with Bree, and I ask around, no one here knows me--”

She jerked her chin in a nod. “The bottom level is a mess-- pipelines and elevators and alleys and restricted sheds everywhere. I could find somewhere to hide, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay?”

She nodded again, sharply. “Okay.”

“See, we have a plan now,” he said. “It’s going to be fine.”

Underground, the air was heavy and hard to breathe. Shasta longed for a breeze. He would choose a hut in Bithersee over these stifled mansions. Better the burning sun than no sun at all.

There were storm beacons, even down here, clinging like flies to the tunnel ceiling between flickering lights. Less familiar were the chutes in the outer wall that sent a metal box flying up a cable, loaded with sacks. Shasta wished he could ask the worker that loaded it where it was going-- to an upper level? To the surface? What he could’ve done with one of those in the seascraper.

“Routine temporary checkpoint?” muttered a man near Shasta.

Shasta’s throat was suddenly very dry. He met Aravis’ eyes. “Do you think they’re looking for--”

Her face was ashen. “You take Bree. I’ll distract them.”

“Stop that,” he said, reaching across the motorcycle to grab her hand as she reached for the pistol bulging in her pocket. “Let’s at least try to get through.”

“The uniform is pretty gross,” she whispered shakily, wiping her hand across the fender and then across her face, leaving stripes of mud.

“Vehicles and government employees to the RIGHT, others to the LEFT,” shouted the woman with the loudspeaker.

“You look like you lost a fight with a mud monster,” Shasta whispered. “It’s perfect.”

“Okay. Okay. It’s going to be fine,” she said, pushing her hair back and muddying her ear in the process. “Good luck.” She began hauling the bike to the line forming on the right.

“You too.” He watched her progress for a few seconds, then turned to his own line and realized that it was significantly longer. He swiped his muddy hand across his face and shirt then pushed his way forward, ignoring disgruntled curses and ducking a fist swung at his ear. Aravis slipped into place between a man in a green uniform and another speeder, leaning impatiently against his bike. He turned to Aravis, gesturing at the checkpoint, and she shook her head vigorously. Shasta wished he were there to hear what was happening. The checkpoint had been hastily made by a few overturned carts, with a cluster of uniformed officials waving people through. On the other side, a half dozen carts were lined up in a sea of pedestrians. Past that-- Shasta’s breath caught in his chest. Was that the lowest level of the city? A brightly-lit maze, with proper streets and buildings surrounding a walled compound. He reached the checkpoint. The official barely glanced at his dirtied fisherman clothes. “Name?”

“Uh, Emeth, sir.”

Tag list:

#any way the wind blows #post-apocalyptic narnia au #HAHAHAHA #sorry #this whole chapter is just anxiety time for both of them #bree #aravis #shasta

So... I may or may not be attempting fan art for the fic and.... I was wondering if you have a fancast for Aravis and Cor... or some ideas for what they wear...

that sounds SO cool and I’m honored!!! I haven’t found fancasts I like for them (although I’ve posted sketches of both!). In the fic Shasta has spent his time either in a grubby white t-shirt and shorts, or his stolen speeder uniform (which is practically a red onesie made of lightweight cotton, designed to keep sun & dirt off you). When Aravis ran away from home she piled on several layers of comfy travel clothes that she’ll cycle through, but she’s usually at least wearing a black leather jacket, a purple or green scarf, and rubber-soled boots. I can’t wait to see any fanart you’d like to share!! :D

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 6, Part 2 Word count: 1017

“No gasoline emissions without permit. No civilian vehicles. Checkpoint closed from sunset to sunrise. Restricted areas are marked with red flags. Failure to comply may result in death, indenture or fine. That means don’t turn on that bike of yours, don’t sneak out after dark, and don’t get into the capitol complex or you’ll be shot. You forget any of that, you find one of them signs posted all over the city,” said the wrinkled old woman at the checkpoint. She paused, flicking through pictures on a dim tablet screen, then squinted at them. Shasta held his breath. “You’re clear; welcome to Tashbaan, don’t hold up the line.” They passed through the gate.

“We made it,” Aravis said.

Shasta’s spirits were buoyant. “Did you think we wouldn’t? Where to now, Bree?”

Aravis paused, tilting the bike toward Shasta. “Turn the screen on.”

“It was on.” Shasta tapped the nav screen. “Wake up!”

“Keep your voice down,” Aravis said. The nav screen stayed stubbornly dark. Leaning over, Shasta tapped it again. Tried each fingerprint. Kicked the fender. “Stop that!”

“He won’t turn on!”

“Yes, I see!” Aravis said, grabbing Bree’s handlebars. “Keep moving before someone notices.”

“Where do we go?”

“There’s only one way to go,” Aravis said, pointing ahead. The gate opened to a single street, with the fence on one side and a row of blank-faced barracks on the other, marked with strips of red fabric. “The city’s shaped like a drill bit, spiraling down into the ground. Keep going down and we’ll be able to disappear into the res district and figure something out.”

“He was working just a few minutes ago.”

“Maybe he’s out of gas,” Aravis said.

“When I found him he was running on fumes and still worked.”

“I’m more worried about how we’ll find the embassy than figuring this out right now,” Aravis said, her voice low. “Did Bree ever tell you where it was?”

“No. My clearance wasn’t high enough.” The road sloped down slowly. Bree rattled over wide metal grates. Up ahead, some sort of roof covered the street in shadow.

“I’m surprised there’s an embassy at all,” Aravis said. “I’d heard the empire crushed Narnia years ago.”

“I never heard of it at all. Makes you wonder what else is out there.” They passed into the shadow and Shasta realized it wasn’t a roof over their heads-- it was earth, set with wide metal grates that let light and air filter through. They were underground.

“Makes you wonder what else they aren’t telling us,” she said, then cleared her throat. “There sure are a lot of people about. Did Bree give you any clue about where we’d meet his… friends?”

“I don’t think so-- wait.” A memory sparked from hours before, when they first saw the city. “Something about how we had to make it through the city… what did that lady say? The restricted area?”

“The capitol complex?”

“That!” He glanced at her pinched expression. “Do you not know where that is?”

“It’s the hub of the lowest level-- a maze of government buildings, at the very bottom of the city. It figures that the embassy would be there.”

“Is that bad?”

“It is if my fiance is working today.” Anything else she might have said was cut off by a piercing mechanical shriek. Shasta’s head flew up. It was too early for a hurricane. Aravis hooked her arm through his, dragging him to the side as the crowd parted like water on a ship’s bow. SCREECH! A rattling wooden cart appeared around the street’s curve. SCREECH! A man in a subdued gray uniform rode in it; a man without a shirt or shoes strained to pull it. SCREECH! A door opened in the barracks and all the foot-travellers scrambled aside as the cart surged into the sunlight and creaked to a halt beside it. The passenger climbed out and disappeared inside; the cart-puller wiped his forehead and headed back, the crowd closing behind him. Aravis released his arm.

“What was that?” Shasta whispered as they began to move again.

“Gray uniform means office work. Inspecting the barracks, maybe. I don’t know.” Her strides lengthened, and she clutched Bree with an iron grip. Shasta dodged a gaggle of old men, struggling to keep up.

“No, I meant-- why was that man pulling the cart if the other guy could walk?”

“There’s a fine for nonessential gas use-- anyone who’s anyone uses human transport inside the gates.”

“But who was pulling the cart?”

“Some prisoner, probably!” She rounded on him. “Can you stop with the questions?”

“Sorry,” he said, biting back a hurt response. Maybe broadcasting how little he knew about the city wasn’t the best idea, but he had so many questions. How had they built a whole city underground? When had they built it? How did they keep the lower levels from flooding during storms? How did they manage waste, and where did they generate electricity, and who produced their food? I did, he realized. The fish his guardian took to Bithersee weren’t for the other fishermen-- they could catch their own fish, and they were bringing their own quotas to town. It was for stamps, so they could get ropes and fabrics from Azim Balda, or tools and mech parts from Calavar, or a few cans of fruit from Mezreel, or precious gasoline. Some of that catch must end up here. How many of these people had he helped feed? He looked at the seething mass of people filling the street, and felt a twinge of irritation. Had any of them done the same for him?

SCREECH! Shasta jumped. Storm siren! Then he saw a cart ahead and shook the thought away as the crowd split, pressing him between sharp chins and elbows. The cart passed, hauled by two sweating prisoners. Like lungs filling with air, the crowd expanded to fill the street again. It was dim here. They’d passed far enough down that there was no natural light-- only a grid of feeble yellow bulbs hanging overhead. He blinked and realized Aravis was gone.

Tag list:

#any way the wind blows #post-apocalyptic narnia au #shasta #aravis #bree #AHHHH #these next few parts have been interesting to write #because it's gotten me thinking-- what would tashbaan look like #if it were the overpopulated underground headquarters for a postapocalyptic empire #which is certainly not a question i'd considered before

en-theos

Cor, Corin and Aravis share one braincell and Corin never gets it send post

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