It's that time again. Reblog with 1-2 characters and Hester will give his opinion. Judgebacks are welcome but not required.
He's not the most educated and he's been taught that mutants are Dangerous(TM), but he's not really hateful toward them as much as he is automatically on guard. He'll also be pretty wary of non-trolls, but given he has an alien in his head, he's having to learn to understand them more.
He's pretty hemo-indifferent, though more likely to be intimidated by highbloods.
This is set some time after the events of Wreck and Wrest You, but before the present night. It is the third part of the Knights and Rooks plot, preceded by Snare and followed by For This Night.
It is a collab with @goddesstrolls! Alcyone belongs to him.
Hester Shawgh & Alcyone | Atlantis Outskirts | Some Time Past
Hester breathed in deeply, relishing the smell of fresh paint, cleaning fluids, and every other product that had gone into the repair of the boat.
Finally - cleaned, repaired, restocked, and packed with what few possessions he and Alcyone had - it was ready for departure.
“Took long enough.” He said in a tired but satisfied tone as he carefully hauled up the anchor. The waters were surprisingly deep here - not that he minded, better for fishing.
Not bad work, Alcyone observed idly in his mind, sounding a bit bored.
He smiled slightly. He couldn’t blame the arcrux for her likely impatience.
Though despite the frustrations at times, he knew he’d been lucky to survive long enough to finish repairs and somehow not be discovered.
He wasn’t entirely sure where he and Alcyone would go, beyond wherever work took them. They needed money - so much more damn money, despite what they’d saved - to pull off what she needed to have her own body. It would take sweeps, most likely.
He didn’t mind that part. Hester could admit he’d lacked any grand plans or ambitions before she’d come into his life. He might as well try to help her for both their sakes; what else did he have to do besides survive?
Things wouldn’t suddenly get easier when they left Atlantis, but this way, both of them would have a fighting chance.
For perigees he’d picked his way through the briars, rearranging them afterward so that the path was obscured again. He didn’t want a single troll finding this place or any traces of them; who could he trust except Alcyone? Anyone might be a corporate or imperial spy, or a psiionic informant looking to sell information.
He’d also had to buy netting and put it up around the vessel so that animals didn’t try to nest in it; cleaning off bird shit had been annoying enough. Luckily, not too many people lived around here. Just him, the other odd salvager or hunter, and the wildlife.
At least the location itself was ideal; an inlet not far from the coast, but still sheltered enough to be hidden from all but the nosiest trolls.
A bug buzzed at the corner of his vision, almost out of sight, its body so shiny he swore light glinted off it.
Sometimes it still startled him, having a fully functional eye on that side again.
Would he miss his home, he wondered, as he eased the metallic cable back into place, looking at the thick thorn bushes he’d both encouraged and pruned to keep others out while giving himself a hidden path through.
No, he decided as he brought up the anchor itself. Atlantis might be where he was from, but no more than the place he’d wound up and had never left.
The ocean was his real home; dangerous, terrifying, but exhilarating - and all the sweeter once he wasn’t on the leash of corporate salvage.
With one last grunt, Hester secured the anchor in place, and released the rope tying the boat upper deck onto the temporary wooden dock he’d built, not minding that it wobbled.
Not like he’d ever see it again.
Hester breathed deeply as the boat - all on its own, thanks to its autopilot - began making its way toward the shore, cutting neatly through the calm gray waters with its stored solar fuel.
Normally he’d take the controls himself, but he wanted to see how successful the system was beyond the very brief practice runs he’d used it for so far.
His lusus hadn’t turned up for the departure; Hester couldn’t say he cared too deeply. His dad wasn’t the worst lusus out there, but he couldn’t say the little dragon had been good for much beyond the bare minimum.
A wind blew through the thinning woods and across the water, breaking up the rippling green and pink moonlight into yet more fractured pieces.
The greenblood smiled slightly.
This was really happening.
The sea drew closer, carrying an irresistible smell of salt and life that had him walking to the edge of the boat, leaning to sight the open ocean as soon as -
No.
A familiar purpleblood with branchlike horns and a neat suit stood on the rocky shore.
Not him. Not now.
Not when he was so close.
Thadus Valent, the man who had sent Hester - and all the dead trolls with him - into the hummingwasp-infested shipwreck.
The greenblood shrank back instinctively - sweeps of fearing punishment embedded in body and mind alike - but then he snarled.
Fuck it. He wouldn’t stop. He would keep going and nothing would get in his -
The boat stopped in place as if he’d dropped anchor, mere feet from the indigo.
No sign of power failure. No sound of a rock or alert from the radar.
Valent approached casually, green pin gleaming on his chest, looking slightly amused.
“Do you think we can’t take remote control of our own crafts again? QPIN has resources you can’t even imagine, Hester Shawgh.”
I can’t override their control without drawing attention to myself. Alcyone hissed, annoyance lacing her tone.
“What do you want.” The dragon troll spat. He lacked the patience to hear any more of this man’s words than he had to.
“You, of course. QPIN recognizes your resourcefulness and would like to extend an offer of employment.”
A few seconds of silence passed.
“No.” Hester said bluntly.
Whatever the corporation wanted him for, it wouldn’t be anything better than salvaging. And with the tech they had…
He’d taught himself a few things while repairing the boat, about its capabilities and the other things its original owners might have up their sleeves.
None of it had been comforting.
Plus, there was a high risk they could find out about Alcyone, and that was unacceptable.
Valent sighed, a mildly weary expression on his face, as if Hester was actually letting him down.
“This isn’t optional, Mr. Shawgh. Either you can cooperate, or you will be made to. Consider it a mark of respect that I am offering you a choice after you stole company property. As you may have noticed, you cannot go anywhere. You have no choice.”
Hester vaulted over the side of the boat and breathed fire at the highblood as he landed on the sand below.
A thin, focused stream of orange flame seared right through the chest of the other man’s shirt, melting his skin as he squawked in pain and distress.
Hester stepped over and grabbed the writhing indigo, green and orange magic swirling around him, his claws and teeth becoming slightly longer, sharper.
“Give me the remote.” He said roughly, harsh as if his throat was still ruined by flames.
Life or death. Escape or slavery.
Hester did not love killing. He never had.
A lack of love did not equal a lack of skill.
Valent vanished.
Hester swore and leapt back, flexing his hands to see if they were somehow at fault.
No. They felt normal. But the indigo was no longer there - he couldn’t see him, hear him, or spot any tracks or other traces on the sand.
It was as if he’d teleported.
But purples couldn’t have such psiionics, could they?
Or was Valent like Hester himself?
As he looked around wildly, a different troll appeared out of nowhere, standing only a few feet away.
No burst of psiionic sparks. Nothing.
Just a skinny maroon with spiky hair and thin, curling horns.
He stood a little taller than the greenblood, smirking as he smoked a cigarette.
Hester frowned in confusion. Magic or psiionics or whatever the hell was happening here aside, how could he have avoided smelling that cigarette until now?
Something here didn’t add up.
“So you got a hit off on the asshole.” The maroon drawled as he dropped his cig on the beach and stomped on it. “Little funny. But it ends here, Haster.”
Hester didn’t bother correcting him. He examined the lowblood instead.
Punkish, ripped clothing. No sign of obvious technology on him.
Yet he seemed totally assured, and there was still no sign of Valent.
Hester breathed fire at the same time he became surrounded by utter darkness - no moons, no stars, not even the gleam of light off the sea.
His fire illuminated nothing before it faded - he’d gotten better, but still lacked the stamina to sustain extended blasts. He could feel its heat - and nothing else except the ground below his feet.
As if the world itself had been snuffed out.
No, he decided. If Valent and the maroon really had that level of firepower, they’d have just captured him right away, not bothered with deals or offers.
So what was going o -
His side exploded, sizzling, a sharp unfamiliar tang harsh against his nose.
Hester screamed in anguish.
What was this?
He stumbled wildly, trying to find his attacker in the black, still unable to feel anything but the sand beneath.
“QPIN’s taken some blows lately, but we still have plenty of fun toys.”
The maroon’s voice sounded like it came from all around him.
“Like this one? It’s an acid some nerd cooked up. Shove it into bombs and it’ll melt the flesh off a whole city block. A few drops does for your sorry ass; enjoy the new breathing holes.”
Where was the lowblood?
How was he doing this?
It was like he wasn’t actually there at a -
Goddammit.
Hester cursed his own slowness.
He breathed heavily.
He needed Alcyone’s help.
Take over. I’ll try to fix this.
Damage is minimal, she replied. Try not to make it worse.
He had a single, desperate idea of how, and no idea when his attacker would strike again.
“I’m supposed to not fuck you up too bad.” The man - the illusionist - said lazily.
“But that’s lame. Don’t know what we’re going to such trouble for - you’re just some feral jade who got away from the caverns. Blah, blah, energy sources, something, something.”
Hester hardly cared about the lowblood’s rambling, but it bought him precious time.
Summoning all his energy, he attempted something he’d only done once before, and largely failed at.
A searing heat replaced the agony of the acid - painful in a cleaner, more bearable way.
Alcyone dodged the next acid shot.
Hester didn’t have much magic left in him. No more fire blasts, no more healing, and he could do nothing about the pain he was still in.
So he’d share as much of it as he could.
The beach, he thought blearily. He’s standing somewhere. Had to be, to take Valent away. I bet he’s not too far. I bet he’s gotten lazy, relying on his psi this much.
The shore was the only thing he had in this void.
So - Alcyone spinning him out of the way of more acid - Hester sent streams of flame skimming across the sand, thin spiderwebbing veins of molten glass spreading until they found their target.
The maroon cursed and screamed as they wormed their way through his shoes; the blackness melted away.
Hester had never been so glad to see the moons before.
He saw the maroon curled up on the glass-streaked sand. If only he had the strength to finish him off, but Hester knew he was spent. Neither he or Alcyone had a good chance of surviving further conflict.
Or so he thought. As he turned his back, sparks shot along the veins of molten glass, converging rapidly on the maroon. The troll froze, eyes wide in shock as the plug was abruptly pulled on his vital signs, brain disengaged from his own body, preventing him from breathing, moving - even keeping his heart beating.
He keeled onto the cooling sand, soon to be dead - damage so severe he was gone in moments, a frail corpse collapsed on the shore.
Hester trudged back over to the boat, wondering how he’d manage to climb back on board
-
- when his lusus appeared, the small dragon struggling - for the first time in sweeps - to help his charge, supporting his limbs, making sure he climbed up the handholds safely.
Hester immediately collapsed when on the deck, turning his body over to the arcrux within him.
She would get them out of here.
She would take them far, far away, where QPIN could never find them.
Gotta cover up to hide your Very Tech-Ified Body. Though luckily he did that anyway to hide his scaly patches, and Atlantis is usually a cooler climate except in summer.
