#digging your grave

[best-fnaf-song-competition]

Best 2023 FNAF Song: Round 2

What Lurks In Shadows (KryFuZe) VS. Digging Your Grave (Lexo)

What Lurks In Shadows (KryFuZe)

Digging Your Grave (Lexo)

Voting ended onFeb 3, 2024

What Lurks In Shadows (KryFuZe)

Digging Your Grave (Lexo)

[aceofwhump]

Whumptober 2021

Day 30: Digging Your Grave

major character death | left for dead | ghosts

Once Upon A Time 5x11

Emma is forced to kill Killian to get rid of the dark one forever.

[one-piece-aus]

Whumptober Day 30

Donquixote Brothers x Reader

"I suggest you quit trying to pursue me, Doffy," you advised the tall pirate coldly, having enough of his flirtatious remarks. "I don't have feelings for you so everything would be one-sided. You can't make me fall in love with you."

"Fufufufufu, is that a challenge?" Doflamingo questioned, wearing a mischief smile.

"It's simple fact."

You had shown up with Rosinante when he reunited with his brother. For all Doflamingo knew, you were just Rosinante's close friend that stuck by him through the years they were separated. Rosinante became Corazón, and you worked directly under him, in the inner circle of the family You both had your jobs to prevent children and women from joining the Donquixote family. Corazón took care of the children, you took care of the women. However, Doffy confronted you about it one time.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Why do you scare away the women that try to come in here?"

"I hate them."

"Why?"

"One of them once broke Corazón's heart, I'm not letting that happen again." That was a lie, no woman broke his heart, but it was an easy explanation that'd get Doffy on your side.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

He tried asking about why his brother hated children but you shrugged and told him you didn't know, you just couldn't think of anything at the given time. With the lack of women, Doffy began to playfully flirt with you but you ignored it half the time but today it just got to you.

"How 'bout this, [Y/n], you give me thirty days to try and make you fall for me," Doflamingo offered with a grin.

"You're just digging your grave." You turned away and folded your arms.

"It's either you accept my offer or you'll just forever be bothered by me," he chuckled leaning over your shoulder.

"And what if I don't fall for you?" You turned back to him with an eyebrow raised.

"Then I'll respect that you won and I'll stop pursuing you." It seemed to pain Doffy as he said those words. You didn't want to give this guy permission to flirt with you for thirty days but once those days were over you wouldn't have to worry about him nagging you.

"It's a challenge then." You held out your hand the smug bird shook it.

"Day one starts tomorrow," he informed you then proceeded to exit the room.

You made sure he disappeared before you went to find Rosinante and tell him about this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doflamingo took many different tactics; Compliments, gifts, but nothing worked. He began to think he wouldn't be able to make you his... until he found you in a vulnerable moment.

You had woken up from a nightmare, cold, and tearing up as you reached out your hand crying out sorrow. Doflamingo heard your cry and came rushing in. You were surprised to see him, normally nobody came when you woke up from the nightmare because you made sure no one could hear you by asking for Rosinante to use his devil fruit powers on you.

"[Y/n]! Are you hurt?" Doflamingo asked wondering if someone dared try to attack one of his family in the middle of the night, ready to make them pay hell.

No physical harm was done to you, you were fine. You didn't want Doflamingo here and see you like this, but you were too busy trying to catch your breath and calm yourself down to be able to respond.

Seeing you in this state struck the man right to the depths of sorrow he hides in his heart. You reminded him of his broken state in moments like these. Gently, Doflamingo came to your side and wrapped his arms around your smaller form, rubbing circles on your back. You gave in and cried into his chest, your fingers grasping the fabrics of his shirt, trying you grip onto reality.

Ever since Doflamingo has claimed you as his, knowing he won the challenge that day but doesn't say that part out loud. He was sensitive to you as you were for him. He felt with you and his brother by his side that he was on top of the world and nothing could drag him down.

Then the fatal day on Minion Island came...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why do you insist on undermining your brother?" Doflamingo asked, pulling out his gun and aiming it at Rosinante. "Why are you forcing me to do this, to kill my own flesh and blood yet again."

Rosinante averted his gaze from his brother, he could feel Law pounding on the chest. He needed to keep his brother distracted from it. Rosinante glanced back at Doflamingo, and his mouth gasps but sounds as if he grunts in pain.

"You point that gun but I know you can't shoot me," Doffy stated, knowing his brother's kind heart too well.

"He might not, but I will." Your statement followed but the cock of another gun now pressed at the back of his head.

"[Y/n]?"

"Marine code: 82346, [Y/n]. I too was working undercover alongside, Rosinante."

"You..." Doflamingo shook with anger as Rosinante stood up. "You mean to tell me you faked everything?"

"Not everything, the night I cried and you showed up was real, but that was only one time." Your voice was colder than the winter surrounding you all. "I warned you didn't I? That everything would be one-sided."

"You b-"

Doflamingo turned to shoot at you but fire a bullet right into his brain, once, twice, you kept firing until you were empty. He fell back and landed in the snow, you and Rosinante stood over him. The man was brain dead, but you needed to be sure he wasn't fleeing anytime soon.

"Rosi, keep your gun aimed at him while I cut him," you told your partner as you knelt down to Doffy's side. Reaching into the inside of your coat, you pulled out sea prism cuffs and cuffed his hands behind his back.

"We should be going," Rosinante said, checking behind him then at the chest where Law is. "There's no telling when pirates will come back for the treasure, we need to get out."

You glanced back at Rosinante with a puzzled expression. He was emphasizing a lot of words for some reason. The pieces came together when you saw him smile at something, and you followed your gaze to Law climbing out of one of the chests. So that's why he did all this.

"Alright, let's go."

The three of you walked away, leaving Donquixote Doflamingo left for dead.

[noforkingclue]

Remembering (Klaus Hargreeves x reader)

Whumptober Day 30: Digging your grave

Summary: Sometimes remembering is too painful

Pairing: Klaus Hargreeves x reader

Warnings: character death

The Umbrella Academy tag list: @zerocanonlywriteshit

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @imjustassaneasyou

The flat was strangely empty without you in it. The door slammed shut behind Klaus but he didn’t pay it any attention. Without you it didn’t feel like home. He felt like a stranger in a place he lived in, in a warm sanctuary that you provided. He hadn’t realised that he had a bottle in his hands until a soft voice cut through the silence,

“Klaus. Please. Don’t do this.”

Klaus closed his eyes and uncorked the bottle. He didn’t have the courage to turn around and see you. To see the look that he knew would be on your face, to see your clothes soaked in your blood. You had been his rock, his stability, someone he could rely on and turn to whenever he needed. He hadn’t realised how much you had helped him until it was too late.

“Please,” he could hear the crack in your voice, “Don’t leave me alone.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can. You’re stronger than this.”

Klaus closed his eyes as he shook his head. He couldn’t carry on like this, not without you beside him.

“No,” he said, “It’s easier like this.”

You were silent for a moment. Klaus could practically see what you were doing even though his back was turn to you. You’d be wringing your hands and looking at the floor. You’d bite your lips (you always did this while you were thinking) and Klaus’s sorrow deepened as he realised he’d never again be able to gently pull it free.

“Klaus, look at me.”

No. No he couldn’t. He couldn’t look at your blood soaked image. He couldn’t look at you knowing that he’d never again be able to hold you in his arms. That those early morning when he held you in his arms as the two of you wasted the day away in bed were a thing or the past. He never again feel your soft lips against his and any whispers of love would be non-existent.

“Please.”

You voice was quiet. Klaus had only heard that tone a couple of times. He remembered how he comforted you. Holding you in his arms for however long it took to make you feel better. Gently rocking you back and forth until the tears had stopped. Watching your favourite TV show or film and eating your favourite take away. The two of you curled up on the sofa and under a blanket.

All of those things that he’d never be able to do with you again. Seeing you again would be too painful. A tragic reminder of a future the two of you would no longer share.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I can’t.”

And as he put the bottle to his lips and drained the familiar burning liquid the painful sound of your voice melted away. Once again, he was alone.

[sergeantsporks]

Whumptober Prompt 30: Digging Your Grave

“I—I knew Claire when she was still a teenager. Before she was Claire Nunez, broadway star, before she became Nunez-Lake, when she was just a high-schooler from Arcadia Oaks—I’ve known her for a long time.” Douxie’s breath hitched in his throat, and he took a deep breath. “Claire is—was—an amazing woman. Headstrong, and passionate. She loved her late husband dearly, and raised an excellent bunch of kids.” Douxie swiped tears out of his eyes. “She touched a lot of lives—whether through her passionate performances, or through her heroic actions as a wizard.” He sighed. “She could never be replaced, and she will never be forgotten.”

He stepped down from the podium. Archie bumped up against his leg, purring comfortingly as one of Claire’s kids walked up. They were all older-looking than he was, with kids of their own.

“Thank you, Uncle Douxie. Mom was…”

She kept talking, but Douxie lost her voice in the first minute.

Seems like I’ve been losing everyone recently.

Two years ago, it had been an elderly Claire speaking for Jim. Three years before that, it had been Jim speaking over Toby’s casket.

Tears dripped down Douxie’s face. He still had immortal friends, of course, he still had Archie and Nari, and Blinky and Aaarrrgh!!!, but his fragile mortal friend’s lives were being snuffed out one by one.

He watched the strength fade from their limbs and the color leech from their hair. He watched the passage of time creep over them, stealing the breath from their lungs.

The funeral passed in a blur, and then Claire was gone, just a heap of dirt on the ground.

It was too sunny, too cheerful a day for how he felt.

Douxie’s magic sparked in accordance with his emotions, and clouds formed in the sky, cackling with lightning.

“Douxie,” Archie grumbled, shrinking to a smaller size and huddling under Douxie’s suit jacket as rain trickled from the sky, “Come now.”

Douxie sighed, running a hand through his bangs. “I’m so tired,” he said bleakly, “I’m so sick of losing people.”

“Losing people is part of life, Douxie. You know that.”

“I know, but like this? Watching them get older and fade? It’s cruel.”

“Not everyone can be immortal.”

Douxie shook his head, stalking back to arcadia. One more stop before home. Arcadia nursing home.

“Heyyyyy, Steve.”

“Ahaha, magic man!” Steve cackled, “Are we finally breaking out of here?”

Douxie managed a smile, sitting next to the elderly man’s bed. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Don’t you look all fancy-pants. What’s the occasion? Getting married?”

“Funeral. Claire’s funeral, it was today, remember?”

“Nunez’s funeral?” Steve’s lower lip wobbled. “She can’t be dead! She came to visit just a week ago!”

Claire had died three weeks ago. Douxie had told Steve twice since then. “’Fraid so.”

“Never thought… I’d be the one who outlived everyone… ‘Cept you, eh, dumbledork? But you’re cheating.”

That’s one way of saying it. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Where’s Pepperjack, huh? He said we were going to take the rest of the fools here for all they had at poker night.”

Douxie’s heart clenched in his chest. “Eli died seven years ago.”

“Oh,” Steve said softly, “Yes, that’s right.” He sighed. “When did everyone else get so old, huh?”

“Not you?”

“Me? I’m the picture of health, wizard man. Old. Hah.”

Despite himself, Douxie smiled. “Of course not. My bad.” He patted Steve’s shoulder. “Great talking with you, Steve. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, and you’re gonna help me break out! If Nunez is gone, who’s left out there to slay the creeps, huh? You need backup!”

Douxie swiped tears away. “Right. Of course. Wouldn’t be able to manage without you, Steve.”

“Dang right. Say hi to Nari for me, eh?”

“Will do.”

Douxie exited the nursing home with a sigh. Archie wound around his legs. “He won’t remember any of that by tomorrow, will he?”

Douxie snorted a half-sob, half-laugh. “Probably not.”

He made his way back home, to a small bookshop with a cot in the back. He set up a candle next to the other ones on his bedside table.

Merlin. Morgana. Toby. Jim.

Douxie lit the last candle with a burst of blue flame.

Claire.

Douxie bowed his head. “Rest in peace, my friends.”

[aini-nufire]

Whumptober Day 30 (Merlin)

No. 30 - DIGGING YOUR GRAVE (ghosts)

“This is not a shortcut,” Merlin grumbled as he waded through thick foliage behind Arthur.

“I know where I’m going, Mer-lin.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No one else seems to share your opinion.”

Merlin huffed and shot a look at the other knights, who shrugged. Only Lancelot gave him a commiserative look. This part of the forest was dense with growth and Merlin knew they hadn’t ever traversed this way before.

The tightly packed trees suddenly broke and their group stumbled into a clearing. Not just any clearing, though—a burial ground. It was even darker in this portion of the woods, the thick canopy of trees draped in opaque cobwebs that trailed down in large shrouds like the shedded skin of weeping willows. Gnarled branches stretched over stone markers, bony fingers clawing at the graves. Merlin didn’t like the feel of the place at all.

“We should go back,” he said nervously.

“I’m unaware of any battles in these parts,” Leon commented, eyeing the area curiously.

“Neither am I,” Arthur echoed.

“Maybe it’s from before your lifetime,” Elyan suggested.

Lancelot walked over to one of the graves. “A very long time ago,” he remarked, brushing some dried leaves off a tombstone and revealing etchings in a language none of them knew. It wasn’t even the Old Religion.

Arthur went over to look as well. “I wonder how ancient this is, if there’s anything in the archives about it.”

“Well, we can’t learn anything about it here,” Merlin insisted. “So let’s just go.”

“Don’t be such a girl’s petticoat, Merlin,” Arthur replied.

Merlin shifted anxiously. The soil all around them was dark, almost black, as though tainted by something. He could feel it. He was about to repeat that they should leave when a creaking sound echoed from the left. They all whirled toward it, but nothing seemed to be moving. The knights exchanged embarrassed chuckles.

“Way to go, Merlin,” Gwaine joked, “getting us to jump at shadows.”

Merlin pressed his mouth into a thin line.

A tendril of cold slithered up his spine, followed by a shift in the air, and then specters were rising up from the graves, wispy white like fog but in the contours of hideous faces. The knights drew their swords, no longer laughing, but of course their blades simply passed through the amorphous figures that careened down on them.

“Retreat!” Arthur ordered, but a loud crack cut off his command as a giant tree fell across their path, blocking their escape back that way.

The other trees creaked and groaned, extending their branches toward each other and weaving into a cage, trapping them in the clearing.

The ghosts shrieked and descended on their heads again, forcing the knights to dive out of the way. Merlin and Lancelot scrambled off to one side, and Merlin covertly used his magic to light up a branch with fire. He passed it to Lancelot, who leaped to his feet and swiped the flaming torch at the phantoms. They veered away but came back around for another go.

The other knights snatched up branches and Lancelot used his to light them. But even armed with fire and light, they were still trapped.

Merlin turned his attention to the trees, trying to see if he could make a way through them. With everyone engaged in battle, they wouldn’t notice him using magic.

Elyan let out a yelp as tree branches grabbed his arms and torso, pulling him backward and weaving him into their roots. Percival and Arthur ran over to cut him free.

Lancelot was being driven backward by the diving specters until he hit the edge of an open grave that hadn’t been there before and fell backward into it. The earth shifted and lifted up, dumping a mound of soil over it.

“Lancelot!” Merlin screamed.

Elyan got free, and Gwaine and Leon were fighting their way to Lancelot as the ghosts battered them. Merlin could feel their evil intent, the earth beneath him tainted by whatever black magic had soaked into this place. The very ground yearned for more blood.

A skeletal hand shot up from the soil and grabbed Gwaine’s ankle, tripping him. He flipped over and tried to hack it off, but his sword merely seemed to glance off the bone, and the corpse started dragging him down into the dirt. Arthur started toward him, but a branch went swinging through the air and clubbed him. He hit the ground face first, out for the count.

Merlin skidded to his knees where Lancelot was buried and began to dig frantically. But the ghosts pelted him one after the other, the gusts of their wake knocking him aside. Desperate, he shot upright and thrust a hand up toward the specters, unleashing his magic in an explosive surge. With a scream, they all burst into mist and instantly dissipated. The noises stopped and the forest seemed to settle. For the moment. There was still a burbling, sinister presence beneath the surface, but it had been momentarily stunned quiet.

Merlin couldn’t think of the consequences of what he’d just done as he turned back to the grave and plunged his arms into the soil, urgently shoving it aside as fast as he could. Leon and Percival joined him, all three digging frantically until a bit of Lancelot’s chainmail was exposed. They all reached down and snagged the material, pulling hard to lift him up. Lancelot sucked in a ragged gasp of air, then broke into a haggard fit of coughing and choking, spraying dirt from his lips. Both Merlin and Percival braced him as he fought to breathe.

“Easy, easy,” Percival coaxed.

Merlin yanked off his neckerchief and wiped the dirt away from Lancelot’s eyes, nose, and mouth. “We got you.”

Lancelot nodded, sagging limply in their arms, his chest still heaving laboriously.

As they waited for him to recover, Merlin shot a look of trepidation at his friends. “I can explain…”

“There’s no need, Merlin,” Leon cut him off.

“Yeah,” Percival said. “We already knew you had magic.”

Merlin’s jaw went slack. “What?” he said dumbly.

“You’re not that good at hiding it,” Gwaine commented as he limped over, his ankle bleeding from several gouges.

Leon straightened to look toward where Elyan was crouched over Arthur. “Is he…?”

“He’s fine!” Elyan shouted back. “Just out.”

Leon breathed a sigh of relief. “Then we don’t have to explain this incident to him.”

Merlin continued to gape in stupefaction. “Uh, Arthur will want to know what happened.”

“Just tell him what you normally do,” Leon said with a shrug.

“He is a bit dense,” Elyan added.

Merlin blinked, utterly flabbergasted. This was not at all how he’d expected this to go.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Lancelot asked weakly.

Percival quirked a dubious look at him. “You didn’t know Merlin had magic?”

Lancelot flicked a worried glance at Merlin.

He shrugged. “Apparently I wasn’t as good at hiding it as I thought.”

“Mm, that’s true,” Lancelot hummed. “I did catch you using magic when we first met.”

The other knights made a few indignant exclamations at that.

“That was years ago!” Leon said.

Merlin smirked. “Maybe I was good at hiding something after all.”

Gwaine snorted. “Lancelot was the one who hid it.”

Merlin conceded the point with a nod, then turned to his long-time friend. “Are you all right?”

Lancelot gave a shaky nod. “I just need a minute.”

Arthur made a sound as he started to come around, so Leon went over to check on him.

“What happened?” Arthur mumbled. “Where did the ghosts go?”

“We eventually beat them with the fire,” Merlin answered, ignoring the knowing smirks the other knights shared among themselves.

“Oh…”

“Now can we leave this place?” he added petulantly.

Arthur scowled, then winced as it apparently hurt his head. “Yes.”

Everyone else eagerly agreed.

[ravenelliot]

DIGGING YOUR GRAVE

Whumptober 2021 Day 30 - DIGGING YOUR GRAVE Major Character Death | Left for Dead

Fandom: Critical Role C2 POV Character: Original Cleric Character Whumpee: OC & Mollymauk

Warnings: Major character death, mourning, grief

A young Cleric joined the Mighty Nein as they searched for their missing friends, determined to help them where she couldn't help her old friends. When Mollymauk falls, she can't take it.

Read on AO3

She'd only joined them out of curiosity and kindness. She saw a group of people torn apart, desperately in need of help -- and they'd lost their Cleric to those slavers, so... it was like the Wildmother wanted her to join them.

But as she stood here, cowering in the trees, watching the carts trundle away from Mollymauk's lifeless, bleeding body... she wondered if that were true. She stumbled forward with the others, eyes locked on the Tiefling as if he should get up any moment so long as she didn't remove her gaze from him. This wasn't fair. He could barely even fight back. Now those people were going to be slaves and all they had to show for it was one more innocent body.

No. Not today. Something fierce and frightened rose in her chest, her breaths heavy as she ran to his side, pressing her hands against his wound. If she could just...

The first Cure Wounds did nothing. The second closed the wound in his chest but did little more. Another, then another, and another, and another until she felt as if her head might explode and her hands buzzed with energy. Still, nothing, and with a final cast she screamed at the sky, struggling and crying as Beau pulled her away, trying in some vague, slightly violent way to calm her down. This couldn't be. It couldn't happen. She failed, again. She had only been with these people for a few days but Molly had been so lovely to her... And now he was dead, just like anyone else she'd ever tried to help.

As she deflated and slowly fell back to her knees, sobbing gently into her hands, a small patch of wildflowers grew from the magic she'd thrown; surrounding a beautiful man with a beautiful frame of colour.

A fitting end for a rose amongst thorns.

[i-love-you-all]

Whumptober Day 30: Digging your grave

Hi! Last two prompts are happening today. I’ll try to make a masterpost of all the Whumptober 2021 stories out tomorrow!

~800 words. This is a snippet from a story I’ve been trying to finish (but can’t finish cause words are hard). Here’s the first scene I posted from that same story!

Warnings: Major Character Death, Gun violence, strangulation, mentions blood.

The mission itself went to shit. They were hurried, their plan was made on the fly, and they were running up against agents who clearly knew what they were getting into. At a certain point, Brimstone had no choice but to send Sova off on his own while he and Skye tried to patch up the two other women as best as they could while waiting for the carrier. Sova took slow and cautious steps. He had no clue as to where anyone was until he heard the lightest sound of a gun clacking against armour.

Sova took out his sheriff and peeked out to see a clone of himself, already in the motion of knocking the pistol aside. Shit. The shot went wide, and now those here with the other Sova knew there was contact. A quick blow to his jaw pushed Sova onto his back foot, but this had to be finished quickly. He charged at the other man who was adjusting his riffle to aim at Sova’s chest and managed to pin the other one against a wall, using his own gun to choke him.

“I let you go when we first met. Not this time,” Sova muttered. There was so much more on the line now – and how could his clone of all people work for Kingdom? That thought had to come later. Fighting a clone felt impossible. There were two thoughts running simultaneously though Sova’s mind. First, the fact that he knew what he was going to do. Second, he also had a good idea of what the other Sova was going to do as well.

That was especially true when he felt the other Sova hook their leg around his. This was a maneuver he had learned a long time ago – basic military training – and while he knew how to counter it, his reaction time just wasn’t fast enough and he lost his grip on the gun, as he was pushed off, barely avoiding a fall. Before he could even think about a counterattack, he felt hard metal slam against the side of his head. Once. Twice. After the second attack, he could feel the blood starting to drip down the side of his face. Trying to focus on the other was dizzying, but he threw himself at the legs of the other and yanked up, making sure to follow him to the ground and pin him there. The other Sova struggled as he wrapped his hands around his neck and kept pushing down, trying to crush the windpipe.

If Breach could do it, so could he. He was going home today.

He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the punches at his chest and abs grew weaker and weaker. As the grip around his arms went limp, he pulled back and took out his knife. This was one last way to make sure that this agent in particular would not be bother his version of the protocol for a while. But unlike any other battle, any other combat he had ever been in, he paused for just a moment, wondering if it was necessary as the other Sova was already unconscious, and this was unnerving enough already.

No. He had to finish the job.

Sova had just finished standing up, wiping blood from the blade when Brimstone came running up to him.

“Brimstone?” Sova was confused. He should’ve stayed by the carrier. Even if he had been the one to die in that fight, Sage couldn’t resurrect more than one person at a time, so they would’ve waited until they saw the other versions of themselves leave. “What are you doing here? It’s not safe.”

“Are there others?” the older man immediately took out his gun.

“I… I’m not sure,” Sova picked up the gun on the ground and stared back at him. “I was not able to do a full check because…” and he’s so screwed.

Brimstone turned to see Raze jogging up to them and greeted her warmly. But Sova knew that Raze did not come with them on this mission.

“We tried to communicate through the coms, but you weren’t answering. Is everything alright, Sova?”

One versus two was doable when he had the element of surprise. But as the rest of this fake team walked in, Sova knew that he was trapped.

“Helloooo?” Raze waved a hand in front of his eyes. “You ok? Where are your coms?”

Sova reached for his ear and almost breathed a sigh of relief. It got knocked out during the fight… for both of them. He looked down at the ground and shrugged. “Broke during the fight.”

Their Killjoy took careful steps around the body. “Oh Mein Gott. How interesting! I’ll need a detailed recount for later… did he know you? Did you—”

“Leave him alone for a bit, Killjoy,” Brim stepped beside Sova as if to shield him with one hand on his shoulder. “It can’t have been easy. Let’s leave before more trouble comes.”

And Sova had no choice but to follow.