Alright, I was in the mood to write, but not get into any of my current WIP’s, so I was scrolling though my old inbox prompts and this was the one that my muse decided needed to be answered first. It probably helped that I just wrote and will be posting later a DCJ fic. So thank you, @unforth-ninawaters for this prompt you sent me ages ago, I finally filled it and I hope that it isn’t terrible since I wrote it and didn’t bother with having anyone beta it. So all mistakes are obviously mine.
If you want to read it over on Ao3 the link is here.
Dean wasn’t really one to do over the top celebrations, he wasn’t. However he wanted to make the night perfect for his boyfriends. He made the reservations to take a boat out overnight on the lake not far from where they lived. He knew it was a large enough that even with all the smaller boats that would come out that night to watch the fireworks they would be only one of a handful that would end up staying on the lake overnight.After five years, and all the shit they had to go through, it was a miracle that Dean was even able to keep Cas and Jimmy around for so long. Dean patted the pocket that held the two rings carefully nestled in one box. He smiled and hauled the box of supplies along with the large rolling cooler onto the boat.Dean knew that Cas wasn’t really big on surprises and Jimmy loved them. Dean had only told them that they all needed to take the next day off work because that night he had plans. When he told them, Jimmy’s eyes light up in excitement and said “It’s New Year’s Eve, Dean, none of us work tomorrow.” at the same time Cas asked carefully, “What kind of plans?” Dean kissed both men and smiled softly, “You’re right Jimmy.” then turned to Cas, “Special plans, it’s our anniversary after all.”
Dean had all the provisions on their boat and went to get the twins. His heart was beating fast and his mind was moving at a mile a minute with how wrong everything could go. He picked the twins up, he explained he already packed all the things that they needed and took care of it, they just needed to get in the car.Right before the turn off to the lake he stopped and asked them to put on their blindfolds that he brought along.“Kinky.” Jimmy smirked and put his on. Cas glared at him. “Please, Cas? I really want this to be a surprise. It’s a good one, I promise.” Cas sighed, “Fine. But you know how I feel about this.”Dean leaned over and kissed him softly, “I’ll make it up to you, babe.”Once they parked Dean took each of their hands and carefully led them to the boat and ignored Jimmy’s squeal of happiness and Cas’ grumbling.Dean positioned them so that they could see the balloons tied to the deck, “Alright, you can remove the blindfolds now.”Dean held his breath as he watched their faces. Jimmy was lit up with a happy smile and Cas’ eyes shined as he took in the decorations, minimal and enough to believe it was only to celebrate New Years and not also their anniversary. “You did this all by yourself, Dean?” Cas asked as Jimmy bowled into Dean and kissed him hard. “Of course I did. I wanted tonight to be special.” Dean looked down at his feet as Jimmy started to walk around the deck of the boat. Dean felt hands on his chin and was moved to look into Cas’ eyes. “Thank you, Dean.” Cas’ kiss was soft but lingering and Dean basked in the gentle heat.Dean followed Jimmy, “How long have you been planning this, Dean? Getting one of these cabin cruisers for rent is hard to do on short notice.” Dean smirked, “You would know?” Jimmy put an arm around his waist, “I may have looked into it for Independence Day.” Just as Dean went in for a kiss a movement of color caught his eye. He turned his head just in time to see the largest bunch of balloons to float up and away from where he thought he had tied them securely. He watched the ribbons sway and dance in the wind before closing his eyes tightly, feeling his lips quiver as a few hot tears burned behind his eyelids. He wasn’t even sure why he was having the reaction he was. He just knew that it no longer felt perfect. Jimmy pulled him closer and held him tight. “Dean, it’s okay. It’s just a few balloons, everything is still perfect. Thank you so much.” Dean took deep breaths taking in the scent of Jimmy where his nose was buried in this neck. The feel of Cas coming up from behind him to wrap two more strong arms around him helped calm him more. It was only a few more moments before he was in control enough to look at his boyfriends and smile. “Let’s go find a good spot on the lake before it gets too dark, don’t want to miss the fireworks.” Dean moved to start the boat and the twins followed. The fireworks were slated to start at midnight, each year the show started with a ten second countdown, fireworks bursting in the shape of numbers until midnight. Dean sat on a blanket staring up at the sky, both his boyfriends curled up next to him. The countdown started and Dean tensed a little, both the twins looked up at him with curious eyes. “I’ll be right back.” Dean stood up. “Dean, you’ll miss the countdown.” Cas urged him to sit back down. “I’m just gonna grab a beer from the cooler.” Jimmy looked over a few feet away, just out of arms reach the cooler sat, and nodded. Dean quickly retrieved the open bottle of wine and the three glasses and handed each of his boyfriends glasses then poured them all a glass as the number five light up the sky. They could hear people on and around the lake yelling the count down.They watched as the number four burst in blue colors, Dean reached for his pocket and palmed the box.The number three light up the sky with reds, Dean pulled the box out of his pocket. The number two was sparks of white across the night sky, Dean took a deep breath. The number one was red, white, and blue as it exploded, Dean set his glass down out of the way. Everyone yelled “Happy New Year” as the sky lit up with the words and a firework that looked like a confetti ball that dropped “confetti” in more fireworks that shot off in all directions. Both twins had leaned in and two pairs of lips were soft against his. Dean backed up a little and looked at both twins who were watching him. He held out the box in one hand and opened it in the other, “Happy Anniversary.”Both twins gasped and looked up at him. “Are you…” Jimmy looked at Cas who was staring at Dean. “I know I can’t marry you both, but I want to. This is my commitment to you both. If you accept, if you want to spend the rest of our lives together. If you say yes, no matter what, I will always consider you both my husbands.” Dean’s heart beat was so loud he was surprised the twins didn’t hear it. They looked at him, then at one another, then back to him before saying at the same time, “Yes.” Dean sighed and smiled as he took the rings and slid each one on their left ring fingers. Cas looked up at Dean and kissed him fiercely before pulling back, “We will get you a ring. Or two even, you’re our, our husband always and forever.” Dean smiled as Jimmy pulled him into a kiss of his own. Mumbling against Dean’s lips, “I love you. We love you.” Dean’s heart swelled with emotion and he hoped that it was dark enough that his husbands didn’t see the tears running down his face.
A GoldenAge Double Mint Oreo co-authored by only-1-a (Alys).
Previous installments can be found here:[1] [2] [3]
And also now on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1287073
((It was meant to be fun times! It was meant to be short Oreo Adventures in Space! Then Mira and Alys got a hold of it. Not only did it grow exponentially…but we may have thrown in a teensy bit of angst.))
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“Come on, come on!” Kozmotis pleaded to whatever powers might be listening, banking the schooner so sharply he had to cling to the steering wheel to prevent being flung against the rail of the ship. Even so, the asteroid scraped along the side of the schooner with an earsplitting shriek of warping metal. Then the ship was past the rock with a shudder. Kozmotis winced and hoped that nothing essential had been damaged in the collision. But that had been it, the last of the asteroids in the belt. If the rest of the army had managed to follow him through that, he honestly wasn’t sure how he could be able to evade capture for much longer.
He didn’t know this sector very well; he hadn’t been in this galaxy for centuries now. Stars only knew what sort of military outposts might have been established nearby, which troops might already be closing in on him and- No, he had to be logical about this. Considering the alert level that he had sent out, any reinforcements would have surely headed for the prison planet and the military had been downsized in peacetime. There would be no reason for troops to be this far out. He was heading away from where the empire’s colonization had spread. He couldn’t afford to worry about shadows ahead of him, the troops behind were enough of a threat.
Kozmotis shot a glance backwards in time to see one of the pursuing ships be broadsided by an asteroid with a sickening crunch. He winced again, simultaneously hoping that the crash hadn’t been bad enough to cause fatalities and that it had been serious enough to disable the ship and put them in need of rescue from another craft. He could use all the delay he could get. That looked like it had been the closest pursuer, though, so maybe-
A flurry of movement from the deck of the crippled ship and a sudden booming sound was the only warning he got before a six-foot long harpoon was launched through the space between them, whistling through the air. Kozmotis let out a desperate curse and yanked the ship’s wheel to the right, fighting the instinct to throw himself to the deck. If the ship was disabled, it was all over. He couldn’t afford that. The weapon tore a hole through one of the schooner’s solar sails before flying past the craft and into the abyss. Okay, not ideal, but if they were trying to kill them rather than pursue at this point, then they were running out of options. Kozmotis had the other sails still, plenty of propulsion assuming he could get out of firing range…
Behind him, another shot rang out. There wasn’t time to figure out where it was coming from. Kozmotis knew he needed to lose his pursuers, and he needed to lose them fast. Without a second thought, the Golden General sent the schooner into a dive, shooting straight down into the void of space. Yanking on the wheel, he sent the ship into a spin, glancing behind his shoulder just in time to see another missile shooting past, narrowly missing the ship. He also caught sight of Pitch, apparently fully conscious once more, as he was swinging wildly back and forth on his tether and cursing venomously. If this had been under any other condition, if Kozmotis couldn’t still see the shadows crawling over his brother’s skin, it almost would have been a humorous moment.
As it was, though, Kozmotis had little time for amusement. He had to think of a planet or a moon or something that they could hole up on for a little bit, long enough for Koz to patch up the damage that had been done to the ship and to see… see if he could get through to Pitchiner.
No, he would get through to Pitchiner. He would. There were no other options now. He just needed time. Which meant that he couldn’t be wasting energy worrying about pointless things.
There was an outlier planet orbiting a dying star one sector over, he’d only been there once and there had been little of value on it. It wasn’t even on most star charts, the last time he was in the military. It would have to work for now, until Koz could refit the ship to get to the further reaches of the universe, out of the reach of the empire.
-----------------------------
There had been a flurry of frantic but thankfully distracting activity as he landed the schooner and rushed to conceal the signs of their presence on the planet. No doubt such a high risk on the loose would lead to a mass scouting expedition sent out to eliminate the threat. He’d just have to hope that his efforts would be enough and this little planet with its irregular orbit would be overlooked. Time, he needed more time, especially now that he was forced to unhitch Pitchiner from the mast and face the state that his brother was in.
He’d strapped the thing down as best he could, but given the way that it was struggling against the antique bonds he’d been forced to use, he didn’t know how long they would hold up. He’d have to devise a better holding strategy if he couldn’t get through to Pitchiner…
No, he would get through to him. He had to. There were no other options, not anymore. This was their last stand. He couldn’t afford to falter or fail now. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.
“Pitchiner. Pitch. I know you’re in there. Talk to me, please,” Kozmotis pleaded, kneeling on the floor in front of the bound creature, spreading his hands beseechingly. “It’s okay now. You’re safe. We’re safe.”
The thing stilled, then an unsettling chuckle spilled out of its black-stained lips. “That’sss not what your fear says, Kozmotissss,” it hissed, words formed by the same chorus of many dark voices speaking as one.
“Pitchiner?” Kozmotis repeated, trying to pick out Pitch’s voice from the dozens that spoke for the thing. Would it be better or worse if he was one of them?
“Pitchiner can’t come out and play right now,” the thing replied, the discordant voices picking up a sing-song tone.
“Stop it!”
“You don’t want him to come out anyway; he’s very upset. He’d only be begging for you to kill him, and you don’t want that, do you? You don’t want to lose your brother…”
“He’s not going to die. I’m going to find a way to eradicate every last one of you and he’ll be safe again,” Kozmotis growled, clenching his fists.
The thing giggled, dozens of shivering voices skittering through the air and crawling over each other like a seething swarm of insects. “And how are you going to do that?” it asked, cocking its head to one side and fixing Kozmotis with glowing sulphurous eyes. “You have no resources, you’re on the run. The Golden Army will never stop hunting you, we should know. And even if you do manage to cure your dear twin, you’ll never be able to go back. High treason is funny that way, isn’t it?”
“I’m not giving up. Never,” Kozmotis replied, implacable.
“No, no, you misunderstand…” the thing cooed. “We’re here to help. You can go back home, see your little girl again, you just need to make sure the Golden Army doesn’t get in your way. Together, you and us, we’re unstoppable, remember?”
“You’re not Pitchiner.”
“But we are. We are him, he is us, now. And we’re so much more powerful now, Koz. No one can stop us anymore. It’s freeing, Koz. If you had this kind of power at your disposal too, nothing could ever separate us again…”
“The other prison…” Kozmotis breathed, going still.
“Yessss. It would give everything perfect symmetry, Koz. There’s no reason why Pitchiner should be alone in the dark… We would be together again. Forever.”
“...No. I won't betray the Golden Army, or my vows. Never," Kozmotis replied, shaking his head, partially in refusal and partially to clear it from the unwelcome thoughts that were being stirred up.
The thing blinked at him and then glanced around the schooner. "I'm afraid that ship already sailed. Literally.”
Was it Pitchiner that was inspiring the creature’s attitude? That sounded almost like something he would say. “This was different. I didn’t- I’m not hurting anyone.”
“So when they come to kill us, will you not fight back? Will you lie on your back and die for them, like you lived?”
Kozmotis clenched his teeth. “Self defense is different, and I… I won’t kill people.”
Another unsettling chuckle slipped out of the creature. “You’re a soldier. Killing people is what you DO.”
“No. They- You aren’t people.”
The thing shrugged. “Not by your estimation, at least. But we’re in the same boat now, Kozmotis. We may as well help each other.”
Kozmotis clenched his hands hard enough that he could feel the bones creak. “No. I won’t ever do things your way.”
The thing hissed, eyes blazing. “Then you will die. You will die screaming. Everything you ever strived for will amount to nothing. And you will never see your brother again,” it snarled.
“You’re wrong. I will do this. I will evade the might of the army, I will free my brother, and I will exterminate every last one of you miserable parasites. Because we’re together now and, you said it, there’s nothing we can’t do,” Kozmotis stated, unwilling to let his resolve waver for even an instant.
“You can’t hold us forever. And he won’t stop us a second time.” The thing’s many voices seethed with malice.
The general swallowed and inhaled slowly, trying to clear his mind from the darkness that the thing was clouding it with. He didn’t need to speak with it, he needed to speak with Pitchiner. He just had to figure out some way to bring him to the surface, to make him remember.
Kozmotis reached out to feel along the thing’s throat, searching for the locket that should still be hanging around Pitchiner’s neck, the one with the picture of Kozmotis and Seraphina within it. The creature’s flesh seemed to give under his hand a little, and he was left with the unsettling impression of it being composed of millions of tiny writhing creatures instead of one whole form. But his hands encountered no chain or pendant concealed beneath the shadows of the nightmare thing. Pitchiner would have never willingly parted with it, so it must have been lost during the battle, or when… when the door had been opened. He didn’t want to think what sort of portent that might be, that the one thing that was most precious to Pitchiner during his long vigil had been lost, forgotten, cast aside. He didn’t want to think about the possibility that the last traces of his brother were gone along with the locket.
Kozmotis took a deep breath and slipped his own locket from around his neck, the twin to Pitchiner’s missing one. The only difference was that the second portrait was of Pitchiner, not of Kozmotis. He took a moment to glance longingly at the two happy faces found inside. That was why he was doing this, so that they could return to those days, eventually. “Pitchiner, look, do you remember this?” he asked, holding up the jewelry.
Glowing, hate-filled eyes met his and the creature bared its teeth with a hiss. Was that a good sign, or was he grasping at straws now?
“You lost yours, so I’ll lend you mine for now, alright? Later, we can go back and look for yours.” When you’re fixed. Kozmotis draped the locket over the thing’s head, letting the pendant fall against its chest. The creature shuddered and let out a keening noise.
“Pitchiner, please. I know you’re in there somewhere. Can you hear me?”
The monster snarled at him in a dozen different voices, none of them his brother’s.
Kozmotis bit his lip, trying to see his twin’s form in the roiling blackness that formed the creature’s body. The way his vision was blurring wasn’t making it easy. He growled in frustration and used the back of his hand to wipe the tears away. “...I need you, Pitchiner,” he whispered, his head dropping.
There was a sudden snapping noise and, for the first time in his life, Kozmotis’ reflexes failed him. He had been so consumed with grief and guilt and desperation that the realization that the bonds had been broken, that the creature was free, took a full second to dawn on him. By the time he raised his head, the monster was looming over him, seeming to sap all light from the room. There was no time for him to lunge for his sword, to try to fight it off. Kozmotis could only flinch as it reached forward.
A long-fingered hand cupped the side of his face, a thumb smoothing gently over his cheek. “Koz,” Pitchiner rasped.
A GoldenAge Double Mint Oreo co-authored by only-1-a (Alys).
Previous installments can be found here:[1] [2]
And also now on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1287073
((It was meant to be fun times! It was meant to be short Oreo Adventures in Space! Then Mira and Alys got a hold of it. Not only did it grow exponentially…but we may have thrown in a teensy bit of angst.))
----------------------------
Time seemed to slow down. Instead of reflecting back like, the blade of his brother’s weapon now absorbed it. Kozmotis could see it coming, watched the darkness in his brother’s eyes glare balefully down at him and- The weapon halted, mere inches from his throat. Muscle tendons tensed on shadow smudged hands, clenching the staff of the scythe, but it didn’t fall. For an instant, the monster seemed to falter.
A mere moment, that scant second of hesitation gave the the army ranged behind the Blacks all the opportunity they needed. A sudden flash of silver cut between them, embedding itself in the creature’s stomach. With a hiss the shadows recoiled, taking a few wavering steps back. Sulphurous eyes rose from the fallen general to glare balefully at the soldiers that had surrounded them.
More spears flew, knocking it backward, driving it to the ground where it was promptly kept by a number of spears placed strategically. Soldiers surged forward, pulling Kozmotis back, carrying him out of the creatures range.
And as the creature lay pinned on the ground, star silver spears driven through the thing’s wrists and abdomen, a curious thing happened. The shadows around it, once writhing living things that relentlessly assaulted the Golden Army, suddenly stilled. The nightmare creature ignored the captain who was stepping up to it, raising a shining blade to behead the thing. Instead, it lifted its head, sulphurous yellow eyes seeking something or someone in the crowd. It seemed to find it when its gaze landed on Kozmotis, who was on his feet now, clutching his sword and staring grimly at the monster.
If it had given him a pleading look, an entreaty for rescue, Kozmotis would have known that the creature was trying to take advantage of its tenuous connection to his brother, trying to manipulate him. Instead though, an expression of something approaching sorrow played over the shadowy visage, and then the thing closed its eyes and tilted its head back, exposing its throat.
Something about that sight made something in Kozmotis snap. That had been Pitchiner. The creature had faltered in killing him because Pitchiner was still in there. His brother was still alive, still there somewhere, and he had just said goodbye.
No.
He couldn’t let it end like this. He’d already thought that he lost Pitchiner once, felt that horrible gaping emptiness of losing his other half. He couldn’t watch as it happened again in front of his eyes.
And before he really was aware of what he was doing, he had surged through the crowd, rammed into the would-be executioner, knocked him aside and torn out the spears pinning Pitchiner to the floor.
The creature let out a piercing, nails-on-a-chalkboard shriek as it was freed, but Kozmotis paid it no heed, seizing it, dragging it upright, and laying his sword across its throat. “No funny business,” he growled lowly. He gripped it tightly, ignoring the way his skin crawled at the sensation of the shadows against his flesh. The thing was weakened now, maybe dying, but he’d seen what it had done during the battle and there was no sense in taking needless risks.
Except for the one where he decided he was going to rescue what was one of the most dangerous things in the universe from its disposal at the hands of the Golden Army.
The rest of the group was starting to overcome the shock by now, moving to stop him. Kozmotis gritted his teeth, lowered his shoulder, and charged.
Kozmotis had very little to do during his vigil but combat exercises, and most of the battle-torn army was still taken aback by his sudden betraya- sudden decision. He jinked away from a corporal who attempted to tackle him, bowled over a sergeant who'd stepped in his path, and ignored a lieutenant's screamed order for him to stop. They couldn’t see it, but he was doing the right thing, he could fix this! He would bring Pitchiner back and everything, everything would go back to normal. He had to believe that. He couldn’t falter in his course of action now. Doubt (logic, a treacherous part of his mind whispered) would only drag him down, doom the both of them. He had to save Pitchiner. He had to.
Kozmotis reached the docking area and leapt aboard a small star-schooner, one that he could man independently. He shoved the thing that had been his brother against one rail, grabbed the wheel, and gunned it. Luck seemed to finally be smiling on him today; he’d managed to commandeer one of the faster vessels that had been brought along. If he did this right, he’d be able to lose pursuit in the asteroid belt they’d passed on the way here. Assuming he didn’t get stabbed in the back…
Kozmotis looked away from the direction he was headed in to glance uneasily at Pitchiner, or the thing that might possibly be Pitchiner. Maybe.
The shadowy figure hadn’t moved from its slumped position against one rail, and some kind of black, viscous substance seemed to be slowly seeping out of it. Kozmotis felt worry lance through him. How much punishment could it take? What if Pitchiner was already dead?
He hastily locked the wheel in place, left the thrusters and sails at maximum drive, and hurried over to crouch down near the thing. “Pitchiner?” He asked, and his heart dropped when there was no response. Fear trickled down his spine at the thought of it all having been for naught, at the thought of being left alone after all this.
Suddenly the creature inhaled sharply, its nostrils flaring. A dark hand shot out and curled around Kozmotis’ throat, talons digging into his flesh. The yellow eyes snapped open, fixing a burning, baleful gaze on the former general. Lips curled back to reveal black fangs and the thing hissed.
Kozmotis choked and brought his arm up fast, knocking away the hand that had him in its grip. He jerked backwards, away from the creature. It let out an unholy snarl, but when it attempted to get to its feet, its limbs bucked underneath it and it fell back against the rail.
Kozmotis had no idea how long it would take the thing to recover, but considering how fast it had gone from quiescent to murderous, he didn’t think it would be wise to take any chances.
They had shadow-repellent bonds back when he and Pitchiner were rounding up the blasted things, they army still had to have some around here somewhere, surely. Five minutes worth of scrambling through supply lockers (and casting wary glances back at the thing and the pursuit that was tailing them) later, Kozmotis pulled out some rope that glimmered even through the dust that had settled on it. Not in the best condition, but it would do in a pinch. He needed to make sure he could focus on navigation. The pursuers didn’t seem to be closing the distance, but he’d never lose them if he kept letting the ship run on autopilot.
He approached the shadow thing cautiously and quickly threw the rope around it, cinching it tightly around its torso and arms and ignoring the snarled protests. The dangling end of the rope he threw over the crossbeam of the schooner’s mast. He’d seen the thing merge with the shadows during the fight, which could be a problem if that ability allowed it to escape or ambush him.
He’d see if it could do that when there weren’t any shadows that it could touch. A sharp yank pulled the creature up into the air, and Kozmotis tied off the rope, leaving the thing to dangle like some kind of macabre decoration.
A GoldenAge Double Mint Oreo co-authored by mira-eyeteeth.
Part 1 can be found here
((It was meant to be fun times! It was meant to be short Oreo Adventures in Space! Then Mira and Alys got a hold of it. Not only did it grow exponentially…but we may have thrown in a teensy bit of angst.))
He stood before the gates of the prison. His hand grasped the hilt of his sword as he positioned himself before the deepest shadows, his eyes wary. The rest of the soldiers stood in formation behind him; he’d told them he would be the first to approach the area. He had to be the first. There was no way he was going to let someone else deal with this; this was his personal battle.
Too empty.
Slowly, Kozmotis moved toward the gate. Each step was a deliberate placement of his foot. The gravel beneath his feet crunched, the sharp stones almost seemed to pushing up through the thick sole of his boots. All his senses were hyper aware. The dead air of the desolate planet seemed to cling to his skin as he advanced. His eyes darted around the bare landscape, alert for any hint of movement. Muscles tensed, ready for the slightest indication that an enemy was hiding nearby. A single sound. A shifting shadow. Anything.
His caution was unnecessary.
Out of the darkness at the gates, a shape materialized. Its presence was only distinguishable by the lack of anything around it. It seemed to exist within a void that absorbed all light and gave back only an abyss. It was nearly formless, the only distinction was between it and the natural darkness almost like a corrupted halo behind it.
Fear. It was nameless, formless, but Kozmotis felt it rolling out toward him. By now it was second nature to block it out, it didn’t touch him, couldn’t touch him. There was nothing left for him to fear. His eyes hardened further, if this was the best that this thing could throw at him, then it would not have long to regret what it had dared to do to his twin.
Clenching his jaw, Kozmotis raised his sword into a defensive stance, ready to retaliate. This was no different than any battle fought before, with one important exception: he was here for revenge. They had been taught to never let their emotions get the better of them in a fight with the Shadows, that it was so far beyond dangerous it was practically suicidal. That seemed unimportant now. Everything seemed unimportant now except for the angry desolation that burned in him. Kozmotis' reason had fled him back on the ship, as soon as the world had fallen out from under him and he had vowed vengeance. Now he hung on to his composure by only a very thin thread.
The thing slid closer. As it left the gateway and crossed the desolation toward him, Kozmotis could swear he saw it detach itself from the shadows. Strings of blackness oozed and undulated around the form, weaving grotesquely. Shifting his weight, Kozmotis adjusted his hold on his blade, ready for whatever the thing could throw at him.
He watched it closely, and felt a slight unease stirring. It didn’t move like a person should. And not like any fearlings he had seen either - they were usually fluid and smooth in their motions. This... this thing had now taken on a vaguely humanoid shape, but as it moved, it seemed to twitch and jerk like a puppet on tangled strings. No part of it remained still for even a moment and the movements seemed largely disconnected with each other. One leg would swing forwards in a mockery of an army-style march, and the next step would have it slowly drag its foot off of the ground as though it was mired in thick, clinging mud. A clawed hand shot out and then raked back through the air, as if trying to drag it forwards. Swirling, flickering darkness surrounded it, and the overall shape of the thing seemed to warp and shift and waver, like it was not entirely there. The head of the creature was bowed, though it twitched from side to side as though it was looking for something, or trying to shake off fleas.
The unnaturalness of the thing’s motion only enhanced the gut-wrenching feeling of wrongness, of dread and terror and decay. The aura took Kozmotis like a punch to the stomach, driving into his already shattered reserves of composure. It felt like nothing in the universe would ever be right again. That darkness and void and fear oh sweet sweet fear would cover everything everything would be theirs all theirs.
Kozmotis snapped back to his own mind and realized with a sinking sense of horror that the connection between him and his twin wasn’t just gone, it was a gaping hole. It had become a void that was filled with roiling blackness and a terrible, unrelenting hunger. That was when the creature’s head snapped up to fix him with burning eyes, and Kozmotis caught sight of the thing’s features, marred though they were with shadow. “Pitchiner?” he gasped.
The thing’s face split open in a gash of a smile. “No,” it hissed in a million different voices. "We are not you. You are not ussss." The thing that had taken his brother's body spoke in a dissonant cacophony of sibilant voices. Its head jerked back and forth nauseatingly, its glowing sulphurous eyes fixed on Kozmotis, only on him. "We are...the Pitch Black...behind the starssss."
Kozmotis' hand clenched on the hilt of his sword. He could feel it, the thing was bending its will toward him. Anger. Fear. Despair. The emotions rolled over him, looking for chinks in his resolve, any weakness to exploit. But he wouldn't give in, he couldn't give in.
"You could be." It spoke again, causing Kozmotis to shudder, the sound grating against him, setting him even further on edge. "Come. Join ussss. Join him. He callsssss, callsss for you. The Light. The General. Hiss brother. Hiss...love." It cocked its head at an unnatural angle, those eyes still pinned on Kozmotis, holding him immobile with horror. "He criessss." Another parody of a grin split its face. A familiar face. Pitchiner's face.
No. No! This thing wasn’t Pitchiner. No spark of his brother remained in this creature. The black void where their bond had once stood unbreakable was testament to that. It only looked like him, nothing more. The taunts were lies, attempts to deceive him, to weaken him. He wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let that happen.
They had always been told that anger was a weakness, but Kozmotis had stopped caring about what they had 'always been told', none of that mattered now. He donned his anger like it was armour, wrapping it around himself. He'd heard enough. Without a sound, Kozmotis shifted his stance, hefted his blade, and closed.
The metal of his blade gleamed brighter than the faint light from the distant stars could account for. There was a reason that Kozmotis and Pitchiner had been called the Golden Generals; there was a reason that they had been heralded as heroes; there was a reason they had been chosen to guard the gates; and Kozmotis was going to remind this thing why that was.
The thing - not Pitch, it wasn't Pitchiner - tried to jerk away, but Kozmotis didn't let him. His blade met flesh - could he even call it flesh? It was shadow, not Pitchiner, not his brother - the light along its edge cutting through the blackness. Cleaving it cleanly, though it met with more resistance that Kozmotis had come to expect from Fearlings.
There was hiss of pain. It could feel pain. This revelation was more rewarding than Kozmotis would ever admit. He snarled as his grip shifted minutely. His wrists flexed as he altered the arc of the blade. Pulling it back, he moved smoothly into the next movement, coming from the opposite direction to hit it again. It would know more pain, he would make it feel the agony that now encompassed him.
And then it would die.
Despite the gaping hole in his very soul, this was one thing he knew how to do: fight the darkness. His training took over. His movements, muscle memory now, moved him swiftly from one attack to another, giving the Shadows no chance to counter. The jerky movements of the shadow being were jarring in comparison to Kozmotis' practiced and concentrated attacks, his fluid movements effortless. Pitchiner would have been able to keep up with him. Pitchiner would have been able to counter his strike with a well practiced parry. Pitchiner would have danced this battle with him, a gleam in his eyes as their movements flowed together. They knew each other too well, there would have been no upper hand. No, what he was facing was not Pitchiner. There was nothing left of Pitchiner. The thing had no chance to do anything but try to wrench out of the path of the blade. Kozmotis didn't let it. He wouldn't let this abomination keep his brother's face!
He advanced, and it retreated. The collection of fearlings backing away from the singing silver. The body beneath the darkness twitched and dodged bending unnaturally. Its arms flailed through its own shadow, fingers working for something not there.
Triumph swelled through him. Kozmotis had arrived too late, but still just in time. This horrific possession was incomplete, the things crawling through his brother had yet to figure out any way to retaliate. The body was used to physical offensives, but the shadows relied on mental onslaughts to drive their prey to insanity. They could not adapt to tangibility quickly enough. All he had to do. He swallowed. All he had to do...was sever the head. Pitchiner’s head. His brother’s head.
Kozmotis raised his sword to charge, crouching to kick off, but the thing hunched over, hands disappearing into hair blacker than it ever should have been. He couldn’t help but pause. Fingers smudged gray pulled and ripped as a screeching cacophony erupted from the writhing mass. He cringed from the sound, forced to step back.
It looked up again, eyes wide and glowing, head tilting to the side in that same disjointed manner. Then, it stood. It straightened its back, hands at its sides, fingers still reaching for the darkness as it swirled up its limbs. The shrieking dulled and folded in on itself, and the creature stepped forwards. Not slid or skittered, but stepped like a man.
Arms lifted and twitched like it was in pain before folding behind it’s back. Spine straight, head curiously to the side still, it’s face split in a jagged grin to speak.
“Kozzzzmotissss.”
Only, it wasn’t the death rattle of a thousand souls. No, this time they condensed, they quietened themselves and Kozmotis broke into a cold sweat.
It was the voice of his brother.
Pitchiner’s voice dripping with decay.
Kozmotis blanched, his sword falling just an inch. And that dip was all it needed.
The pose of the creature broke immediately as if unable to hold such a human form any longer and the beast lunged at him, arms long and jointed grotesquely, fingers barbed claws. Kozmotis had no time to parry or defend himself, his shock dulling his reaction time. All he could do was fall into a rolling dodge, trying to scramble away.
Kozmotis desperately clawed for his composure, for the calm, resolved center that he fell into while fighting. Not Pitch, he told himself, It’s not Pitchiner. It’s not and it’s using it against you don’t let them win. You can’t let them win - but his own attempts at reassurance were cut short as sharp fingers hooked under the plates over his shoulder, wrenching him back towards the creature.
Twisting to the side, he tried to yank his armor free of the grip. He swung his sword blindly with one hand, not able to see the thing behind him. He might not be able to see it, but he could feel the looming presence at his back. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, every cell of his body shrieking its protest against the proximity to such wrongness. The strike must have worked. The next thing he knew, he was tumbling forwards, the shrill screech of protesting metal signalling that his armor had been ripped clean from his shoulder.
Spinning around into a kneel, Kozmotis faced his enemy once more, ragged puffs of breath forcing his almost-fear back into check. It wasn’t fear. He was fearless. This was merely surprise. Bringing a hand to his shoulder he tried to feel for damage. Fortunately it seemed than any damage had been done only his armor and not himself. His adrenaline pounded so thickly in his veins that he idly wondered if he’d even feel any pain any way right now.
The Not-Pitch thing was grinning, a dripping, vicious expression. Its eyes were fixed upon the stolen piece of metal, rolling it in its hands. Shadowy tendrils skittered over the bright designs inlaid into its once smooth surface. Each had been given to him, to them, a badge of honour, symbols of their deeds. Its very touch polluted the memories ingrained into the symbols, but none of that mattered. All that mattered now was that its distraction gave Kozmotis time to stand and regroup. What exactly was it doing?
He was about to shout for its attention and to put it out of its misery once and for all, when the plated metal blinked out of existence within its hands leaving behind nothing but shadow. A rasping rattle sounded from the pit of its mouth and Kozmotis watched, horrified with himself and his inaction.
His horror turned near physical and his stomach dropped to his toes when that thing, that disgusting parody of his other half, held out one arm, it’s hand disappearing into opaque blackness. The gloom gathered to its hand as the perpetual smile fell away.
Voices whispered and cried their condemnation, white noise filling the air and Kozmotis knew that he must act now or perish.
With a shout, he leapt, sword first, into the swirling shadows to kill his former brother. He swung his gleaming blade precisely, years of training and experience honing his skill to near flawlessness, even as his mind grew messy. He voiced his anguish using it to fuel his determination, his task, his last goodbye.
But metal clashed against metal. Shrill screaming erupted in the darkness and the shadows fell away revealing what had stopped his blade.
Pitchiner - no not Pitchiner! It couldn’t possibly be Pitchiner - had shadows pooling at his feet, his uniform stained the darkest colour of ink, his skin smeared coal black. In his hands, his scythe. His star silver scythe shining through the darkness, knocking the shadows of his very being into submission at his feet.
The curved blade of the white metal blocking Kozmotis’ sword, their edges grinding against each other. Kozmotis’ eyes wide, matched perfectly by the abomination that stole his Pitch’s face. The thing looked...shocked.
A whine threaded out through its gash of a mouth and it’s blazing eyes dulled as it looked down and away from Kozmotis. Kozmotis followed the gaze, momentarily stunned, their weapons still interlocked. Its hands that gripped the shaft of the bright scythe were smoking, the dark gray skin looking lighter from the contact alone.
For an instant, those hands looked almost human, a stinging reminder of the man who had been smothered by the shadows. Then the thing hissed and the darkness gathered around it once more, swirling down the creature’s arms and pouring over the star silver like ink and blood. And the glow of the weapon, designed to always keep the darkness at bay, dimmed, flickered.
Impossible. Kozmotis thought, frozen for a moment in shock. Star silver was supposed to be flawless, stalwart, incorruptible. Like the Golden Generals? A derisive voice in his mind asked. Kozmotis gritted his teeth and broke away from Pitch just as the darkness creeping up the scythe’s blade started to lap at his own sword.
He hefted his blade to slay the creature before it could wrest any more good from the world, but as he moved to step forward, a terrible, soundless shriek ripped through the area. It was not something that was heard by the ears, but sensed instead by the spirit. It was the sensation of tearing, of sudden gaping emptiness where there should have been substance, of the laws of nature being warped beyond the breaking point and it ripped through Kozmotis like a lightning strike. And just as suddenly as it started, it was over and Kozmotis was left gasping and swallowing against the bile rising in the back of his throat.
“It... looks better now, don’t you think?” the creature asked in a sickening, disjointed parody of Pitchiner’s voice, stroking a hand along the blade of the now-tarnished scythe. The metal gleamed slickly in the dim lighting, but the reflections that danced over its surface were not that of the surroundings. Instead, terrible, grisly images of torment, of terror and suffering and loss flitted and twisted along the metal, soundless screams and hopeless, despairing tears. The faces of the people in the reflections were familiar, family and friends and oh stars, Seraphina...
Kozmotis swallowed thickly and tore his gaze away, feeling sick to his stomach. He could not afford to falter now, no matter what happened. He would prevail, he would protect the Golden Age from evil, he would fulfill his obligation, the duty of everyone in the Golden Army. He had to.
The screaming continued in his mind, driving his thoughts to distraction. Kozmotis tried to focus, tried to block out the noises. It had once been as easy as breathing, to stop the influence of Fearlings in his mind. But the screams continued, in fact, they grew louder. It was only then that Kozmotis realized the sounds weren’t just a mental effect of the creature’s presence. He spared a quick glance behind him. He hadn’t come alone. This wasn’t just a battle between him and the thing pretending to be his brother. The rest of the soldiers he had arrived with were being besieged by amorphous shadowy monstrosities; a desperate battle being fought between the forces of light and darkness. He was only facing one aspect of that darkness, but he had no attention to spare for his comrades.
He quickly snapped his gaze back to the creature wearing his brother’s face, only to discover it was…
Gone. Vanished into the darkness like a ghost. Kozmotis gritted his teeth and stood ready, all senses on high alert. The thing wasn’t far, he could still feel that aching void of connection with his twin completely undiminished by distance.
The sudden sensation of the hair on the back of his neck prickling afforded him only barely enough warning to whirl around and bring his sword up to parry the sweep of his quarry’s scythe. The star silver blazed with light as it clashed with the corrupted metal, as if protesting the change in its counterpart as violently as Kozmotis wanted to. He stared into the gash of a grin across the monster’s face and snarled back in defiance. He pressed forwards, striking mercilessly at the creature.
The thing was faster now though, more sure of itself. With every passing second, the thing seemed to adopt more of Pitchiner’s style, more of his skill. The flourishes, the strikes and the blocks, they all echoed his twin perfectly and that pained Kozmotis as much as the screaming of his muscles as he met the creature blow for blow.
The twins had been evenly matched the last time they had sparred all those years ago. It seemed to be the case now as well.
Only now, it wasn’t Pitchiner. And it had other tricks up its sleeve. The thing took full advantage of the abilities it seemed to be picking up as it went along, blinking in and out of the shadows; Kozmotis was barely able to keep track of it. As the battle progressed, his chest heaved with exertion, sweat dripped down his back under his armor, and the thing didn’t seem to be winded at all. Soon Kozmotis was struggling to keep up with the blows being rained down upon him, fighting just to parry the glittering, razor-sharp scythe, trying to keep it at bay instead of pressing his advantage.
Everything went wrong when the thing feinted, flickering into tangibility once more, scythe raised. Kozmotis brought his sword up to intercept the swing. Instead, it drove the butt of its scythe into Kozmotis’ middle, driving the air from his lungs and knocking him backwards, his mind reeling. He stumbled and would have recovered but for the darkness that suddenly roiled around his ankles and pulled him backwards to the ground with a crash. Kozmotis grunted and tried to roll back to his feet, only to find that his limbs had been secured by shadowy bonds, the shining sword still in his hand rendered useless by lack of leverage with with to swing it. He wrenched desperately against the darkness even as the thing stepped up to his prone form.
The creature grinned savagely and raised the scythe over its head to deliver the finishing blow
Kozmotis couldn’t move, held down by chittering shadows. He could only watch helplessly as the dark reflection of his twin brought his demise. Defiant to the end, he met the creature’s sulfurous eyes with his own golden ones, wishing that he could have at least said goodbye to his other half. “I’m sorry, Pitchiner...” he whispered as the blade swung down.
(*Special thanks to Zinfandelli for help with that fight scene, and to linddzzz for that wonderful dialogue which got stuck in Alys' head, begging to be used.)
Taking Jack to the public pool and waterpark was a bad idea.
Surprisingly not because of the obvious issue of Jack being an albino and the sun beating down on the town like the wrath of a vengeful god.
No, the Black twins had just neglected to realize that Jack was, well, Jack.
To be fair, the air conditioning unit for the apartment had broken down in the middle of a heat wave of apocalyptic scale and none of them were really able to think clearly when everything was so damn hot. So when Jack, sprawled out on the couch in a ratty pair of cotton boxers and nothing else (they could have sworn they got rid of all those abominations), started whining about heat and summer and ugh why couldn’t it just be winter already, Pitch and Koz had met each other’s eyes from across the room and a spark of inspiration leapt between them. What better way to beat the heat, really?
And if it involved Jack clambering out of a pool sopping wet, with his hair dripping water down his chest and back, and his clothes plastered to his body, well, all the better.
So the both of them had very carefully and thoroughly slathered sunscreen onto their melanin-challenged friend, put him into a light t-shirt as well as swim trunks, shoved a pair of giant sunglasses and a floppy-brimmed hat onto his head, and headed to the car.
Maybe it would have been more accurate to say that the problem was they hadn’t realized that they were all the people that they in fact were.
Unsurprisingly, the pool was completely packed with people when they arrived. Jack took off like a shot the second they arrived, whooping happily and disappearing into the crowd before the twins could drag him back.
Pitch hated people. He retreated to a relatively empty area directly beneath the waterslides and holed up there, regularly getting splashed with overflow from the slides and glaring venomously at anyone who got too close.
And Koz, well, he’d tried to stick by Pitch but goddammit it was like he had some kind of homing beacon strapped to his back for all the middle-aged single (and sometimes not-so-single) women to flock to. Soon enough there was a half-dozen of them clustered around him, chatting about the weather and adjusting their swimsuits and making some not-so-subtle inquiries about his life and what brought him to the pool. Koz managed a smile and did his best to carry out a cordial conversation. Though dodging the questions involving his relationship status slowly became more and more of a hassle, but it wasn’t like he could just say: ‘yes I am currently in a polyamorous relationship with my twin brother and another man half my age, how about that weather?’ , so what was he supposed to do?
Fortunately, like a knight in grumpy armour, Pitch had noticed the crowd and emerged from his watery lair to elbow through the people and seize Koz possessively by the arm. He didn’t so much as offer an explanation for dragging his twin away as he just glared and hissed at the ladies, but Koz supposed he should be grateful anyway. He wondered if trying to convince Pitch to be more personable this time around would be any more fruitful than his previous attempts. Likely not.
“I don’t like it here,” Pitch growled, eyeing the people around them warily. “I want to go home.”
Koz sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “All right, let’s see if we can find Jack and convince him to g-”
“ATTACK!” Jack’s voice rang out through the pool area, followed by the sound of multiple cries and shouts. The twins of course went to go investigate.
Jack had a floral-print inner tube slung around his neck and was surrounded by a roiling mass of children, all of them toting water pistols, water balloons, or various other forms of water-based weaponry. The entire group of them were enthusiastically mounting an assault on a group of sunbathers, hollering battle cries and completely drenching the unfortunate souls who had been having peaceful naps before this.
Pitch and Koz both stood gobsmacked for a moment, staring at the scene laid out before them. “How did he even-” Pitch began.
“I’m learning to just stop questioning the things that Jack does. You still wanna go get him?” Koz asked.
“…I’m pretty sure he’d sic the lot of them on us if we tried to get him to leave.”
“Yeah, you’re right…”
“I suppose I can languish in this hellhole a while longer,” Pitch said, and heaved a deep sigh.
Scream. (if you get what I'm hinting at. *wink wink* )
(wink wink nudge nudge)It had been a simple series of… experiments. Just science stuff. You know. Just science stuff. Peter just had to run a few experiments. It wasn’t like he could just know there was an identical copy of himself running around without wanting to figure a few things out."Pinch yourself." Peter studied Xavier, eyes focused. Peter sighed when Xavier gave him a look of confusion. "I’m trying to see if I feel pain by seeing you in pain."
After a series of rather innocent experiments, an idea struck Peter. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea, but… For science. It was okay if it was for science, right? Just an experiment. Nothing serious.
"I wanna do a full body exam. See how far our… similarities, ah, go." Peter certainly didn’t mean for his voice to sound that seductive.
Of course, one idea lead to another, one touch lead to many, one kiss lead to a thousand. By the time the… experiments were over, both boys had screamed themselves hoarse. "So… how’d the experiments go?" Xavier asked, his cheeks tinted a light shade of pink. Peter took a breath, grinning slightly.
"Went well. But, ah… might have to do a few follow up experiments. You know."
