The Herald of Henbane had been captured. It seemed too good to be true, and the Whitetail Militia were in a frenzy. There were calls for Faith’s blood and she did little to temper the rage. “She bit me!” one of the men cried out, his voice cracked. His skin was already bruising and her teeth had indeed punctured his skin in an ugly crescent wound.
Faith thrashed against her confines. Her skin had broken out in a heavy sweat, her body expelling the drugs that Joseph had fed her since she was a teen. The dependency meant her withdrawal symptoms were leaning to the severe side, coupled with the general numbness to brutality that came with living in Hope County. “Who the fuck is this guy?!” she demanded when Eli came into view. “Just fuck off!!”
Wheaty had had a skip to his steps, almost dancing – rocking out a bit to the music he was listening to. He loved these fucked up little earbuds. Even if they sometimes failed him, they were his best companions in this fucked world.
Worried about the Peggies or Highwaymen? Not really. Wheaty had spent the past 7 years underground completely by himself – one could say his mental state had taken a toll with that. He would deny it. But he wasn’t interested in talking to anyone else anyway. He was fine by himself after all! Himself and music – name one more iconic duo. He needed no one.
And if they got him, at least he could go out with a loud bang according to the several tinkered explosives he carried around in his bag or across his chest.
He also already had two rabbits caught from the snares he had plastered across the forest around here dangling from his shoulder. That made one last snare to check. And as Wheaty got closer he finally plopped the earbuds out of his ears. Something was fucked, he could feel it.
Ducking low, he tried to spy through the undergrowth. Nothing. He could almost see the snare from here.
So, no Highwaymen. They were too loud. And their music sucked ass.
Peggies? Time to nock an arrow into his compound bow.
But the real solution was something… weirder. Suddenly there was a man popping out of hiding. Just across from the snare. Fuck him. Wheaty grimaced at that guy. Thick beard and long hair, unkempt as fuck. Not that anyone was having any style in these times, but holy shit. He already looked like a picturebook-Peggie. Though he wasn’t wearing any of their cavemen clothing. What bastardization-trip was he on, the hell?
From the north? Holland Valley? Wheaty rolled his eyes and imitated the words silently and way more dramatically.
Fucking Peggie.
Kneeling to keep his hiding, Wheaty aimed and fired his first arrow right into the tree to the guy’s right. Passing his face by maybe two inches, he’d feel the fresh breeze for sure.
“Yeah?! But I fuckin’ do! Get the fuck away from my Happy Meal, you bible-fucker!”
Getting the next arrow ready, Wheaty tried to move a few meters to the left unseen. Not that he was scared of some dumb Peggie. But he didn’t need to lose the upper hand.
Send me 🚿 for a starter of my character catching yours just out of the shower/bath
earphone dangling from one ear, the other giving anyone she passed a demo of the song she was listening to - way too loud, but what teenager ever cared about the volume? besides, she was trying to learn the song. best way to learn anything new?
repetition.
humming along to the first few chords of the tune, linny was on autopilot as she maneuvered her way up to the main level of the wolf’s den. the woman on the track started singing after a few bars of instrumental and linny was mumbling along with it, paying no need to the racks of good as she passed through the food store.
stepping over some new bags of rice that hadn’t quite found a home on the shelves yet, the teenager made a mental note to see if she could do some sorting in the place after she borrowed wheaty’s guitar. it wouldn’t take too long, actually maybe she could do a full stock-take?
it’d kill a few hours and at least it was something that would be useful to eli or tammy?
yeah, good - she could swing by wheaty’s room, grab his guitar, then stop by his work station and grab a refill pad to write on - he was off out with walker on a mission, so he wouldn’t mind.
‘... i’ve been sleepwalking, been wanderin’ all night ...’
the guitar on the track still strummed along artist’s solemn lyrics and linny was half-singing and half-mumbling the words alongside the track, bracing a hand on the entrance to wheaty’s room, she swung inwards and grabbed the guitar from its perch in the corner just inside the doorway. swinging back out again, linny had just enough time to loop her arm through the instrument’s strap before she walked full-pelt into someone.
jumping with surprise, she was thankful her arm was already through the strap because, sure as shit, she would have dropped wheaty’s guitar otherwise ... if she hadn’t dropped it from the shock of someone being right there and her being shunted out of her own little world, then the teenager was certain she would have dropped it the second she looked up and saw who she’d walked into.
eli.
no biggie, not like he was a stranger, or she was up to something she wasn’t meant to be doing, she was completely allowed free roam of the den ... but he was ... wet.
and only had a towel around his waist.
and he had a lot of tattoos ... and scars. and muscles ... had his arms always been like that? the shirt only showed off his forearms, which were covered in tattoos.
he had abs too.
and he was staring at her just as much as she was staring at him.
‘ i ... i, uh, i was sleepwalking — fuck, no. sorry. that’s the song. i meant stocktake ... or that’s what i wanted the guitar for. ’ nope, that wasn’t right either. wow, one flustered second and all her words tried to jump out together, huh?
pulling a face at her own mental-jumble. linny narrowed her gaze, leaning in closer as she spotted why something seemed a little different.
‘ — did you cut your hair and shave? ’
@eli-whitetail
(also tagging @whitetail-wheaty because your adoptive pops is kinda a dilf)
His head was still swimming from the conversation he just had with Carmina. There was no solution, seemingly. And it upset him more than anything else. What could he do? Why was he so powerless? Why couldn’t they have their little bit of luck to themselves? Why was his family blamed for everything? Why were they killed…?
Stuck in these dark thoughts, he had made the mistake of not noticing Eli – but when he heard that twig break and then that awful offer… Isaac’s muscles tensed even more. His icy eyes boring into Eli, the string of his bow pulled back just a bit more.
Eli. The Whitetail. The Stag. The one who had gotten away… his father’s murderer. Isaac was sure of it. Either he or Wheaty had done it.
And now he stood there, helpless and defenceless. If Isaac just let his fingers twitch and the arrow was released, Eli would die. He should. And he would have done it… if there wasn’t one question that had tortured him for years now. And finally he could force answers from this man.
“...what really happened in that night? What were his last words?”
It was hard not to scoff in Pratt’s face and just turn and walk away, but Eli knew better than that. Common sense would say pissing off the Sheriff’s office would only mean more and more trouble for their budding group.
“I’m not the one bein’ an ass here, Staci.”
“All we’re doing is prepping and huntin’. Hurk’s down at the tunnel letting off RPGs every goddamn day without any visit from you guys. We’ve got our permits, so you can tell John Seed to fuck right off. Don’t know why you lot haven’t arrested that family already.”
There was a questioning look shot at Pratt from his partner. Joey wasn’t quite sure why John Seed was being brought up and Staci made no sign he had any clue either. Only he did and it brought a pit feeling in his stomach. Things were starting to feel like he was getting in over his head when Nancy implied to him he should make this call more difficult than it needed to be.
“It’s Deputy Pratt.”
“Hurk’s an idiot but he’s on his own land.” Mostly. They kind of just left Hurk Jr. do his thing as long as he wasn’t hurting anyone. That included himself, he got enough crap from his old man. “This has nothing to do with John Seed or his family, Eli. We’re just following up on a call. Doing our job. Here to check those permits you mentioned. Hunting licenses, everyone in your group better have one. What are you boys plannin’ on shooting?”
29. the one where your soulmate’s ghost haunts you when they die.
*Also under a read more because I have no sense of control or when to stop.
There was little way of knowing who your soulmate was until it was too late. Rook heardplenty of stories about it from other people. Some had gotten lucky, had foundtheir soulmate before they died and then when they did pass it was hard but they at least had been able tolive a life together and knew it was their destiny to be together once more. She sometimes wondered if she’d already mether soulmate, but never pursued them because she was a guarded person. The typeto make friends, and get along with people, but never pursue anything behind aone-night stand or friends with benefits type of situation. Not that she evenallowed much of those either. Whenshe gets to Hope County there’s a small part of her that wonders if the personshe was meant to be with was here, in Montana.
It’s a little easier, for that reason, to get alongwith the locals. There are a few that she wants nothing to do with. Drubman Seniorcomes to mind, but overall she falls in easily with the locals and they arehappy to have someone from the city to tease. Though as one mournfully pointedout at the Spread Eagle one night, “You’renothing like what I would’ve figured.” Which she took as a compliment andan insult all rolled into one. There were plenty of outdoors-types in the city,especially in Washington and Oregon and she just happened to be one of them.She easily adapted to the lack of GPS, to spotty cell-service. She’d need tomemorize the routes for working with the sheriff’s department and the ambulancecrew as well. Creed kept active and would often pass early morning fishermen onher runs who got used to seeing her sprinting through the countryside.
A soulmate wasn’t at the top of her to-find list –– to do,her mind supplied in a helpful inner joke, but even if she wanted one then she’d have been hard pressed to locate them afterthe Reaping. Now, more than ever, she’s locked herself away behind the title ofthe Deputy, of Rook who was going to do what she could to help whoever shecould along the way. It’s not long before she gets to Eli’s region and meetsthe Whitetail militia –– introduced by way of Eli cutting her free from Jacob’schair. She’s too disoriented from the bliss, from the music and windinghallways that she was forced to run through over and over again to notice it.The way she so easily leaned into him, let a stranger take on her nearlydead-weight. When she wakes up on a couch, there are a few people talking overher but she remembers his face. More clearly than she did the kid who had foundher lying on her side in a pool of blood.
He tells her to get some rest, and for the first timesince the helicopter crash, she trustssomeone enough to close her eyes and sleep. After learning more about Eli andhis militia, she lingers in the mountains –– it’s the last place she wants tobe after Jacob scrambled her brains around, but she can’t abandon him when he’dhelped her. They get along and work well together with Eli telling her where togo and who needed help the most. She followed his lead, and of course Jacob Seed noticed it. Teased herabout it when he next got her stuck behind bars. Rook tried not to let him knowhow much it scared her –– the idea of Eli being used against her. When Stacibroke her out and showed her the corkboard with Eli’s picture and her namebeneath it with red ink scrawled over it, her heart had plummeted.
She should warn him, should tell him that she can’t betrusted, and she does. Not that Eli listens. He believes in her, has more faithin her than any other person has in her entire life and it makes this all theharder to deal with. Rook ––– Sam –––had never been driven to tears in her life, not that she could remember. Notsince she was a kid, but the thought of Jacob puppeting her like a marionette tokill someone she cared about was enough to make her eyes burn. Only at night,when she was curled up in her sleeping bag, but it was bad enough knowing howmuch he meant to her and how powerless she felt in the wake of Jacob Seed. Soshe fights him, fights the Soldier more than she’s fought anything or anyoneelse in her entire life. Rook struggles against the conditioning and thetrials, but none of it matters. Just like Staci had described. She does it, shecounts out the kills and it ends with a bullet through Eli’s head. There may bea small mercy in knowing it was fast, in that there wasn’t any suffering butshe can’t forget his last words –– the panic in his eyes, but the faith that she wouldn’t pull the trigger.
Then she did anyway.
Samantha Creed might have had a chance, at living, atbeing herself before killing the oneman that had reminded her of the fact. The moment Eli collapses, blood haloing hishead behind him, she feels a profound sense of loss. He’d been important toher, still was, but this went deeper than friendship –– than what might’ve beensomething more. She’s struck mute bythe pain of losing him, her . . . Wheaty’s in her face with a gun, shouting,crying out. Rook won’t stop him from shooting her. Where he is loud, overt withhis pain, she’s silent. Her tears leave tracks down the sides of her face, andTammy is telling her to go to leaveand kill Jacob or else they’d finish the job. Watery eyes dart towards Eli, lyingon the ground, with Wheaty crouched above him and holding his hand. Her mouthdrops open, but Tammy shoves her towards the hatch.
It’s unlike anything she’d have expected to feel. Wasit worse because she was the one to kill him? Did that mean her suffering was goingto be compounded? What sort of hell awaited the person who murdered their soulmate? She has yet to see him, but it may be the song interfering. The red haze thatpaints her surroundings with fire and pain. Jacob Seed coos at her, into herthoughts that she should’ve killed herself –– saved her friends the trouble.Tells her he doesn’t care about dying, but she pushes through. When the lastgenerator is destroyed, the music cut off abruptly, she staggers forward, intofamiliar surroundings and she sees him.Eli is standing there, a heartbroken look on his face and Rook can’t handlethis right now. She can’t. She runspast the specter of Eli and makes her way to the mountain where Jacob takesshots at her from. He’s good, manages to clip her shoulder once and then gets agood shot at her leg. It makes climbing the rockface difficult, but shemanages.
Eli’s at the top, standing behind Jacob and watchingher, brow creased with worry as she lunges at Jacob –– all teeth and feral energy.She’s running on empty and Jacob knows it, easily countering her and pinningher to the ground. “Did you really thinkyou were free?” He asks, “That you wouldn’tmake your sacrifice?” Rookscreams at him then, “Fuck you!” It’s the first time she’s beenso aggressive with him and he blinks, surprised by the sudden ferocity and herdecision to finally speak. Her eyes flick towards Eli who walks towards them,kneeling down and gesturing towards the knife at Jacob’s side. It’s withinreach.
Jacob sees the way her eyes track something that isn’tthere and his lips twitch into a grim smile for a moment. “Oh I get it now. There’s no turning back now deputy, you can try andrun from it, can even kill me, but you know what?” He leans closer and Elinods once. “I’ll always be there insideyour head, and he’ll always be here, haunting you where I don’t.” And shegrabs the handle of the knife, sliding it free before she slams it into Jacob’sside, just below his ribcage. He wheezes out a harsh laugh, doesn’t fight it ––like he expected it and when hestaggers backwards, he looks happy.Or as happy as a man like Jacob Seed could be. Rook sits up, breathing heavily,her own blood soaked into the dirt from where he’d shot her and now mixing withthe red dripping from his side. Jacob might be able to survive the knife wound,if he had left the blade there but he yanks it out and drops it.
Rook watches as the life bleeds from him, and only whenit’s her and the ghost of Eli on the mountaintop does she curl up and cry intothe tops of her knees. Hope County had taken everything from her. Even that which she didn’t know she alreadyhad.
“I’m sorry.” Sheapologizes to the air, to the ghost of a man who deserved better than her. Rookapologizes over and over again, the word mixed up with her sobbing as sheignores the radio call from Tammy asking about what had happened, about Jacob ––the bunker.
He’d been the main skill holding that ragtag group of civilians together, the one capable of outsmarting the Peggies and Jacob’s Hunters for the most part. There was military-training in the blond somewhere; about as plain as the nose on his face.
Just a pity joining the Militia wasn’t on the top of his agenda. Could really use skill like his.
“Anyone ever tell ya that the one wolf dies, but the pack survives?”
"You really wanna talk about wolves at this time?" There's a dead Judge in the back of his truck. Pieces of another one in his front grill. It wasn't the prettiest escape from Jacob's Chosen, but Seifer wasn’t lookin’ for pretty. He was lookin’ for efficiency. Just a shame the intake got clogged.
This is worse than the time ol’ Gary Fairgrave hit that stray deer when he was on the highway headin’ home... Long arms flex as he fishes out bits of wolf from out of the front of his truck. That Montana drawl was there, albeit a bit faint, tucked away behind the sharp bite of his words--
"Kinda stupid if you think about it-- lettin' me through your gates. Y'know, I could be anybody..." he turns his focus over to Eli, fingers still pullin’ out chunks of sinew and stinkin' raw meat.
"You don’t know me. I ain’t your friend-- In fact, I might just be your worst enemy..."
