#harleyroden

[ezra-hemlock]

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What was left of the last fall of snow was melting, trickling down the rooftops, dampening the bricks and pavements to smear and glisten their edges. Ezra hadn’t had a destination in mind when he stepped out, his aimless wandering however kept his mind busy until the sound of close footsteps stole the show. His attention caught on a lingering pair of eyes and a brow arches as he spoke, “you know, if you’re trying to get my attention it might help to say something.”

[ezra-hemlock]

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“That’s not exactly the best camouflage.” 

[ezra-hemlock]

♨

The other guys in the unit give her shit, but only because when it comes down to it, she’s the only one of the lot of them that has any balls. Some people join the army because it’s in their blood, some go for the money. Ezra is running, and signing up seemed like the most logical way to get out of gang that basically ran his hometown. His father, being a devoted member, gave him a few pretty scars. She’s the only one in the unit that doesn’t look at him like something broken when she sees them. It’s the main reason he likes her.

One evening, when he returns to the bunks they are there, crowding her, arguing with her. They have her cornered with no kind intent. It seems she provoked fear in their eyes and the only way they can face their fears, conquer them, is to defeat her. Like these odds make it fair, like what they say they have to do is right. She takes the first boy, knocks him right in the face so hard he falls over. Ezra takes the second, hurls him onto the ground and knocks him out. The third, and fourth, follow their lead, knocked into the dirt. 

He doesn’t ask what they would have done to her once they had her in the dirt, they both know. They take the case to the camp officials, have the boys thrown out. 

She grows up, get a promotion.

He leaves the army eventually, settles down, has a family.

Every time they are in town together, they catch a drink, and beat some pricks up.

[ezra-hemlock]

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“We aren’t done!” This. Fucking. Brat. “You killed my master!” For the last few hours he’s been going at this, and sure, Ezra had killed some masters during the invasion. They were a bunch of fucking scumbags who abused him regularly, or crazed things trying to drain him dry. But the scenario he keeps retelling isn’t one he remembers because his master wasn’t one of his kills. He snarled that to him him, but he won’t listen. During their fifteen minute break from their duty to rebuild the city, which Ezra hasn’t raised a finger for, the boy comes after him.

His darkness has consumed him since the invasion, the Wolf he suppressed at the fore. He is feral, hungry for a fight. A fist connects with his cheek but Ezra doesn’t even lose his footing, turning his face back to the other slave, grinning, his tongue running along his bloodied teeth. Then he repays the favor, his knuckles crashing into the boy’s nose. It breaks. Another hasty punch is thrown his way but he dodges it easily and continues hitting the kid, again and again. “Are we done?” he lowly snarls, advancing to take back every step his punches sends the other back. A hit sends the kid to the ground, a final one rendering him unconscious. “I think we’re done.”