Part 5 - δοκιμασία • (dokimasía) • ordeal, a painful or trying experience
Iris, a Persephone!John and Hades!Gale AU | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Interlude | Part 4 | Part 5
(if you want to feel the vibe while you read, click here)
Run. Run. Run. Every shred of instinct screamed at Persephone to keep running, his powers felt foreign, unresponsive and useless in a way that made him sick to his stomach. He could feel his body wanting to give in, panic threatening to overrun him, exhaustion wanting to drown him into the earth. The world around was swallowed in darkness, no light in the dark black forest. He was certain it had been a crescent moon when he had walked out of his father’s temple.
He had to have been running for miles, he could see nothing farther than a couple steps, not that he imagined anything would look familiar. Whatever power was at play here was making sure he was lost, not able to orient himself in any way.
John stumbled down the small decline he could feel beneath his feet, small stones protruding from the ground scratching his bare legs. He hissed through the pain, catching himself against a tree, bark smeared with the ichor seeping out of the cuts in his skin. He tried summoning again, hoping to feel the familiar warmth beneath his palm.
Nothing, he felt nothing. Persephone had no idea how this was possible, it should not be. Demeter’s son not able to feel anything from a living plant, it sounded ludicrous to his own mind and fear gripped his heart even tighter. What could be interfering with powers granted by Olympian lineage?
A crack sounded in the distance, a long screeching whistle, terrifying guttural noises that were looking for him. A lance of pain shot through his temples, they were closing in, John could feel it. He could feel it like any other prey would. His nostrils flared, trying to feed him more oxygen, trying to fight the terror telling him to freeze, telling him that everything was useless, that he was prey and he was done for.
Persephone tried, he tried one last time, pushing sweat sodden hair away from his eyes, his usually delightfully chestnut ringlets now a mess of dark tangles and dirt. He had to try, he had to try to fight the hurt. But gods, it hurt, father, it hurt. He cursed the deep gash on his leg, burning like all seven hells, it jolted pain throughout his entire frame. Pain. Pain. Pain.
He felt whatever was hunting him, closing in from all directions. He knew he had to try, he knew he had to get away. But damn, knowing it did nothing to make it come true. There was nowhere to run to.
His pulse throbbed in his ears, deafening the sounds that could have helped him locate an escape route. John kept on trudging, following the small rocky mound he had been leaning against, moving towards what looked like an opening not far ahead. A cave? Shelter?
He could feel nothing threatening inside. But again, he could feel nothing. His powers were silent once again as he tried calling them for help. He begged, he despaired, he leaned against the entrance and he begged. For what not even he could have told you.
Nothing answered, nothing rose, just the terrifying taste of ichor in his mouth, dripping from the wounds on his face. Pain. Pain. Pain. He should not have stopped. It hurt so damn much. His face hurt, his chest hurt and his right leg was an entire mass of pain. He risked a glance at it and that was that. So much ichor stained his shredded meat and through all that godly ichor, he could see the white bone.
Stupid John, stupid stupid John. That's what they always said of you, wasn't it? Demeter's delicate flower son. All beauty and spring. You walked on your father's path, never straying too far, lest you lost yourself.
Well, Demeter’s son lost. Himself and the fight. Drained of every drop of energy and powers, alone and hurt in the darkness. The last bit of consciousness left his body. Without any grace, the godling of spring and nature fell. He fell into the mud at the entrance of a grotto with marked stones at its entrance.
The beastly sounds only drew closer.
In the cruel and violent darkness, with no help in sight.
And yet, any good counselor would advise you to remember that in the world these tales take place, there are many things unseen.
Two IRIS employees sit in a rather bland looking home, talking with the owner over gone cold coffee.
"Why would you ask me to do this?"
"You're a perfect lure for him."
The homeowner sits back in his chair away from them, folding his fingers into each other. "You are joking."
"No, we wouln't joke over a matter as serious as getting him back under containment."
The man shakes a finger at them, angry and disbelieving that this is real. "No. No, no, no. You promised me I would never have to get near that thing again. When you let me go you said I would never have to be involved!"
"Please calm down, Mr. Schneeplestein," calls the more tired and haggard looking of the two. "The ALTRs containment wasn't expected to ever be broken, and this is a dire situation."
"Dire? Why should I care if it kills other people, all I care about is never seeing it again."
"Henrik," the second one in a lab coat attempts in a way too friendly way. "I know that those months were traumatic for y-"
"Understated, like any good IRIS poppet would."
"Mr. Schneeplestein if you don't do this, he may come for you anyway. At least this way you'll be guarded and have a high likelihood of us recapturing him to further keep you safe."
Henrik balks at them, trying not to look as furious as he is. He pinches his forehead over and over, feeling a headache start in the same place it always does, the heavy scar along the back of his skull. "You're insane. The whole company."
"Sir, you're needed for something bigger than yourself. Isn't that what doctors do?"
"I haven't been a doctor in years."
"If we can't convince you, we will use force. Too many lives are at risk, and too many have already been taken. We have no way of knowing he won't come for you. ALTR 114209 is obsessive when it comes to the people he chooses to 'serve' his purposes. All we're doing is ensuring you don't have to go through anything like that again."
"Try drinking shitwater out of a moldy pipe while that thing laughs at you, and after you know what it's like do this your goddamn self."
The employees glance at each other, and the tired guard stands up.
"We don't want to use force. Last chance." The mans hand is gripped on the taser in his belt.
Henrik feels his heart in his throat at the thought of ever being electrocuted again. The floor lights up and a blaze of agony stabs into him. But no, he's at home in his apartment. He just wants them gone. Don't look at me, he pleads in his head.
"Fine," he tries to sound drawn and cocked like a bow, but even he hears how badly his voice cracks. "I will help. But you have to keep that thing away from me as much as possible. I am not running blind into forests or slathering myself in butter. That thing and I have as little contact as you can manage."
The guard stands down. "Your help is appreciated, doctor. The van is waiting out front, we can fully explain the plan as we go."
Henrik sighs, drinks the remains of his freezing coffee, and stands to follow them out. Goodbye nice apartment, goodbye rebuilt life. The goons have plans for you.
-
Chase feels tired. Even still holding Anti's hand, which usually seems to make that go away. Even with shoes, they've been walking for nearly 6 hours across the English countryside. His body hurts. He's thirsty. But he can't seem to open his mouth to complain.
"We're getting closer," Anti says, as though reading his mind. "Even you'll be able to feel him soon."
Feel him? Chase feels a pang of fear at not knowing what that will mean. He doesn't have to wonder long.
He feels the smell of an antique store slap him across the face as they pass into a clearing, and he suddenly notices that an entire portion of the sky is… grey. Not with clouds, the usual blue has just been completely washed out to nothing. He stares up at it as Anti pulls him along, and for a brief moment he stumbles over his feet as his mind tries to stop him from going any closer. Anti doesn't even seem to notice, his entire face has contorted with excitement and he's nearly pulling them into a sprint.
Anti stops, across the clearing and against the next line of trees. "He doesn't like people he doesn't know. Wait here, Chase."
Chase feels his feet freeze in place, his entire body stiffening into an upright position. Wait, as a physical command on him. He feels foggy as Anti walks away, images and sounds flashing in his mind. Things he's seen before and things he never has. His wife's face, his old guitar, a childhood television show, a bowtie, Anti's face when they met- It cycles through his fluttering eyes so quickly that he can't tell what's real. He starts panting slightly. Where did Anti go? He feels his hands begin to shake.
His breathing has progressed to hyperventilating, when suddenly Anti's hand is in his again. Everything clears instantly and his eyes refoucus onto Anti, grinning, his eyes glowing even brighter than usual in their pits.
"Chase, this is my friend. Say hello."
Chase looks behind him, and whatever he was expecting, well, it's not that.
A polite-looking younger man bounces on his toes, half behind a tree. Like a child hiding. The only odd thing about him is just how pale white his skin is, and just how deeply black his hair and irises are.
"Hi?"
The man doesn't really do anything. No words come out, no gestures. He looks almost timid and tiny behind the tree. Chase swallows down his nerves.
"Uh, I'm- I'm Chase. What's your name?"
The man still doesn't do anything, his face nearly cartoonishly afraid. Chase looks at Anti in confusion.
"Oh, right, 'course. He's like a lot of creatures, doesn't really respond at first unless you use his own language."
"I don't speak anything but English and a highschool course level German, man."
Anti scoffs. "When did your kind get like that?!"
"Most people only speak one or two, I don't know what you want from me!"
Anti chuffs at him, like an annoyed dog. He turns back to look at his friend, and then looks at Chase. "Just copy my hands, okay?"
Chase watches his hands make a variety of shapes, tapping and touching each other. He figures it's sign language of some kind, but it's hard to follow it. He attempts to though, looking at the man with a slightly forced smile.
"You just told him your name, watch him now."
The man steps out from the tree, arms to the side as though he's trying to emphasise how lightly and carefully he moves. He siddles right up to Chase, and his hands slowly come upward. Chase doesn't have time to think before the man grabs both of his cheeks and squishes them. Chase accidentally blows a raspberry from the sudden force, and the man grins widely at him, shaking in his shoulders but making no noise.
"He likes you," Anti assures when Chase gives him a hurried glance. Chase blinks, confused but not entirely scared anymore. Anti's friend seems harmless. Just a... odd, overly formally dressed guy who doesn't speak. Ok, he can work with that.
Anti begins moving his hands again excitedly, and Chase watches them converse, slightly in awe. Not that sign language is unusual, it's just seeing these two almost-but-not-quite-humans use it that sets off his 'weird' radar.
Chase resigns to let them talk, and begins to sit down to rest. A branch crackles under him as he does, and Anti's friend stiffens in place as a massive wave of something bursts out of him. Chase tries to stand up and apologize but he... can't move. Can't do anything. Even Anti is frozen with a half smile and eyes halfway to looking at Chase. His blood feels strange. He doesn't think he's ever felt his blood, but it's like it's... heavy, all of a sudden.
The friend is still moving, rubbing a fist on his chest with wide eyes. The wave recedes back inside the man, and Chase gasps in a breath, not having realised he wasn't breathing. The rush of oxygen makes him light-headed and he falls the rest of the way onto his ass.
Anti is laughing, and grabs his friend and puts him in a headlock, rubbing his hair into a mess. "Asshole, I haven't seen you in 150 years and that's how you treat me?"
The smaller man is being smothered, and despite what just happened Chase finds himself worried Anti is actually hurting him. Not that he would risk getting between that.
Instead the man breaks free, shaking in that same way, shoulders heaving. Chase realises he's laughing, the open mouth clicking the pieces into place. A totally soundless laugh. A totally soundless... everything. Even his footsteps don't make much noise at all in the leaves as he tussles back and forth with Anti.
"Alright, enough!" Anti shoves at him and he dips respectfully in a small bow as he's thrown back. "We needed you to keep safe, but now I need a place for my human to sleep. Anything you can think of?"
The man taps his chin and foot in thought, face screwed up. He signals a lightbulb going off with his finger, and begins signing to Anti again.
Chase just tries to catch his breath on the ground before he'll have to walk again.
They seem to make up their mind, and Anti walks over to him, holding out his hand. "JJ has a place in mind for us. Let's go, Chase."
Wordlessly Chase feels his exhausted body follow Anti's instructions as their trek through the forest begins again, now with a third companion.
i've made the decision to orphan iris au on ao3. it's a surprisingly well-liked series - i genuinely didn't expect the response to it that i got. but things have changed and iris isn't really what i want to be known for.
that being said, i think archives are important and i still want people to be able to access the series, so here's the link to the series.
i'm not really into mcyt anymore, so this blog will remain largely inactive. if you happen to be into pokemon, i've been writing for that for the past while. here's a link to my current project.
i don't really know how to end this post. have a good day if you're reading this
Tango from @shovel-shuffle's Iris au! They have three fics (and two multichaps!!) Done already, and are working on more! This is based on Dreamland, but go and read all their stuff! It's very good :]
