All We Have is Each Other
Oh hey, this is both a Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt and a backstory so- Here goes trigger warnings. Tw blood, abandonment, knives, injury, wounds, blood, death, murder, uhhh, I think that’s it.
Nathan was happy waking up with Dante at his side. It was pleasant, forgetting their troubles for a few minutes as he gazed upon the one person who had always been there for him. Aratraea hadn’t shown up in days, so it had been left to the two children to figure out how to take care of themselves. Nathan didn’t mind so much, even if the woman was their supposed mother. He never liked her much. Sure, she provided them food, water, and shelter, but he hadn’t trusted her ever since he had been capable of any free thought. She never let them dress how they wanted to when they tried to pick out feminine clothes, saying they needed to act and dress more like boys because they are boys. Nathan wasn’t so fond of this controlling behaviour.
Recently, though, she had disappeared with a large bag and not a word of goodbye to either of them. Dante was optimistic, had told Nathan she would come back, but Nathan knew better. She had left with a suitcase, generally not a sign that someone is coming back any time soon. Nathan had said something about that, but Rebel pushed back his reasoning and insisted Aratraea would return. Nathan knew better.
Their supplies were running out, but both of them did nothing more to acknowledge that than to try and use as little at a time as possible. It wasn’t much, but they could hope to make do with what she had left them. They tried their best.
Too long. She’d been gone too long. The eviction notice had confused them when they got it, the meaning only reaching them when a sign was put up in front of the house saying that it was for sale, it was government property. After coming home from scrounging around for (and eventually stealing) food, they had seen the sign and been faced with the fact that the house was no longer theirs.
“Quince,” they had changed their names at Nathan’s Quincy’s suggestion since they didn’t feel like their masculine names fit them at all, “w-what are we going to do? We don’t even have a place to live…”
“We’ll find a way, Rebel, I promise.” Quincy was confident, and he’d they’d been the one to do almost everything to help them survive recently. Surely they’d be able to find a solution for this. “Let’s get as much out of here as we can, I’ll find a good place for us to stay. I have some friends out on the streets who might be able to help. They helped me find food for us.” Quincy pulls Rebel into the house, preparing themselves to leave for the very last time.
Weeks turned into months, the warm weather wasn’t holding out on them. Quincy learned to use their magic to form tendrils so they could steal things with a lower chance of getting caught. Even better when Rebel found a way to create pocket dimensions. Quincy had found a school for them to attend, though they usually didn’t have the proper supplies and had to borrow them. It was decent. Nobody really bothered them much; they were children, and Quincy seemed to be somewhat of a threat.
Over the course of the next few years, Rebel and Quincy had made friends. Rebel had befriended a person named Iseli, who was really passionate about their art. When asked a gender, they never made any specifications, so Rebel assumed they just didn’t have one. They were still young, nobody knew much about the whole gender spectrum.
Often times Rebel would tell Iseli about the way they- and their other half, Quincy- fluctuate between genders, not really settling for any one of them. Iseli, though, decided to start looking up things about this on the school computers.
“Graygender is probably the most accurate for me, but… non-binary looks like a more common name for that. I think I’ll stick with non-binary,” they said, idly tapping the keys on the keyboard with their ever-fidgeting hands.
“What about Rebel and I? We’re not in the middle, we switch between genders. What’s that called?” Quincy spoke up, leaning over Iseli’s shoulder to look at the computer screen.
“Hold on for a minute, I’m working on it.” After typing out the question about a fluctuating gender identity, they frowned at the screen. “Hm… genderqueer? I dunno, sounds a little too broad of a term for you two. Bigender? No, no, that’s describing a different situation, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s not exactly that clear of a switch for us,” Rebel answered, also frowning. Why was theirs so much harder to find?
“What about genderfluid? Does that sound more accurate?” Iseli finally seemed satisfied with the name for their gender identity. As did Quincy and Rebel, who grinned and nodded.
“Yeah, that actually does sound right. Anyone could probably figure it out without looking it up anyway, it is what it sounds like,” Quincy said, providing reasoning for their agreement- as was usual, Quincy was more of an analytical type.
They preferred to have a reason for things. They even had a reason why Aratraea might have left. It pained them to have been kicked out onto the streets without a warning (they never checked the mail) but they didn’t miss her. It didn’t cause them any pain to think about her disappearance. They knew better than to feel bad. Best to live in the happiness they had with their school and their friend.
Their peace lasted until 7th grade, when someone decided they wanted to fight someone for the money that Quincy had skillfully pick-pocketed off of some passerby who had their wallet showing a little too well for them to be left alone. It had been an easy steal: walk in the opposite direction, head down, ‘accidentally’ bump into the person, snatch the wallet in the sudden movement, apologize, walk off with the money. Just for extra measure, turn it in to the police and tell them you found it laying on the street, that you hope they can find the owner, and to have a good day.
Someone else had been watching, though, someone else who wanted that money for herself. She had a knife, and she thought this middle schooler was unarmed and she could have an easy steal: threaten them with a knife, have them hand over the money, and send them to their parents, telling them they’re a bad child for even taking it in the first place. She was sorely mistaken.
Quincy had stolen a knife that they particularly liked- along with the sheath- and brought it back with them one day- for defense, they told Rebel. Rebel had agreed with that, as now they were more at risk of being attacked. They did have a small problem with it, though. It was so plain, and Quincy should have better than that. Quincy then begrudgingly allowed Rebel to etch some swirling designs into it with their magic, and as an extra part to that, Rebel decided to specify to the magic to move whenever the knife cuts through something, just to make sure a specific pattern couldn’t be noted and it would be assumed that someone had failed to replicate the design.
When this woman walked up to take the money from Quincy- who was standing near Rebel at the time, counting said money- they immediately stopped, handing the money to Rebel and standing up. This was a problem. The woman raised a brow but continued approaching before saying, “Give me the money.”
“No ma’am, I’m afraid you’ll have to get your own.” Quincy was trying to avoid confrontation, but the money was theirs at that point, they had done the work to steal it.
“Excuse me? Don’t you know to listen to adults?” She wouldn’t back down. She didn’t think this teenager would really defend the money.
“I listen to my teachers and the other staff members at school. You don’t happen to be one of those, nor are you part of any government or emergency service work- going by the fact that you’re trying to steal money from a teenager. Based on that, I’m going to say no, I don’t know to listen to you.” That was it, Quincy was irritated with this woman now. She really thought she could pull the authority card on them? It was time for her to think again.
“Okay, fine, we’ll do this the hard way.” She pulled out a knife, pointing it at Quincy and making Rebel spring to their feet behind them. “Have your little friend hand over the money and run back to your mother, little boy, or I’ll use this knife.”
That was the last straw for Quincy. The word ‘boy’ had sparked anger that they had pushed deep inside themself for so long, anger about being told, “You’re a boy, you should dress like one, you should act like one.” Not only that, but they had been told to run back to their mother, who had been the one to run away first, and was threatened with a knife. “I see, we will have to do this the hard way,” they growled, pulling out their own knife and getting into a defensive stance. “If you want to get the money like that, you’ll have to fight me for it.”
“Fine then, just know I’ll beat you,” she answered, sneering at Quincy.
“Wait, Quince, please don’t-”
Rebel hesitated, but Quincy was already springing into their first attack, slashing at the woman in front of them. It wasn’t worth arguing about, and Rebel quickly backed away from the two so they wouldn’t be harmed.
The woman dodged the attack, quickly giving a counterattack in hopes to catch Quincy off guard. No such luck, as Quincy dodged and managed to give her an arm wound on her upper left arm. The pain didn’t stop her from jumping forward and giving Quincy a slash to the eye in retaliation. Quincy’s hand flew to their new wound, covering it as they staggered backwards, dropping their knife a safe distance away from the woman who had attacked. They had never felt pain like this, all they wanted to do was curl up and cry.
Rebel, who had been hiding in the background, immediately saw that their other half wasn’t going to be able to defend themself, but apparently the woman had decided stealing the knife would be more than enough to replace the money. She went to dive for it, but Rebel was quicker, opening a golden portal underneath it and another over their own hand. They caught the knife and jumped up, using their powers to bend the pocket of space around Quincy to protect them before rushing to confront the woman. They wouldn’t have gotten involved, but their other half was wounded and defenseless, and that wasn’t something they’d just stand around and watch.
The woman seemed to realize that this teenager’s little friend was a threat too and struck out, catching Rebel on the arm, but Rebel was too angry at the fact that she had wounded their beloved Quincy to even acknowledge the pain quite yet. They made another blade of pure energy and used the metal knife to throw and hit her in the heart as she backed up before taking quick, light steps towards her to finish her off with the energy blade, driving it clean through her neck. She was headless before she could even hit the ground from the first blow she suffered, her neck wounds cauterized by the heat of the energy blade. The only blood was from the wound in her chest, spread further when Rebel jerked the blade out of its resting place. Rebel had given up being nice at that point.
The streets were unforgiving, this was no time to be merciful anymore.
Rebel tore off a piece of their own shirt, wrapping their own wound tightly so they could tend to it later on, once they’ve helped Quincy. They opened the space around their other half, rushing to them and finding them curled up on the ground. “Quince, Quince, move your hand, I need to see it to help you,” Rebel said softly, kneeling next to Quincy and taking them gently by the wrist. Quincy twitched, about to react, but Rebel let their energy run along Quincy’s arm, showing them who it is so they didn’t hurt them. The dazed skeleton relaxed at the sight of the familiar golden magic, hesitantly moving their hand.
Rebel winced. It was worse than they thought. All they could hope was that Quincy wouldn’t go permanently blind in that eye. They had to get medical help soon, though. Rebel wasn’t quite sure how to bandage Quincy’s wound, and there was violet magic on their hand, their arm, and running down their face. All Rebel could do was to numb it.
That they did, making the pain fade to nothing even though there was still violet magic running down Quincy’s face from their wound. With that done, they picked up their other half and slipped the knife into a pocket dimension, hiding the body in much the same manner and dashing out of the alleyway. They were careful to avoid getting the blood on their shoes.
“Help! Please help! My friend is hurt!” Rebel was hurt as well, their golden magic soaking through their makeshift bandage, but Quincy was first priority for them. They needed to get help for Quincy first. “Sir? Sir please, call an ambulance, m-my friend is bleeding!” Rebel calls desperately to a nearby man, who immediately stopped to look over at them. The man’s expression flicked from one of surprise and curiosity to one of alarm and horror, his hands fumbling for his phone before he pulled it out and dialed 9-1-1.
Soon enough, there came the sound of sirens, and an ambulance had come to pick up Quincy and Rebel. They insisted on tending to Rebel’s wound on the way- getting clean bandages, cleaning out the wound, trying to keep Rebel still so it doesn’t bleed more- but Rebel fussed about being separated from their other half far too much for the medical workers to get them to sit and be calm. They had to settle for letting Rebel sit next to Quincy while they cleaned and bandaged the teen’s wound.
Quincy, on the other hand, clung to their beloved’s hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing their eyes shut as the medical workers in the ambulance with them tried to stem the bleeding in their wound. They were starting to feel weak, they just wanted to sleep, but Rebel kept a slow, steady stream of energy flowing between the two of them to make sure Quincy will be alright. “It’ll be okay,” Rebel murmured, and Quincy believed them.
As soon as Quincy had regained their strength, Rebel snatched an eyepatch for Quincy (who was quite proud of Rebel for actually stealing things themself) and took them to run. Ended up there was a stranger, a man waiting for them outside of the hospital. “Wait! You two!” Quincy’s first instinct was to tug of Rebel’s sleeve to tell them to walk faster, but Rebel shook their head and grabbed Quincy’s hand, bringing them back.
“Yes, sir? Were you talking to us?” Rebel speaks up, turning to look at the stranger. They were going to to snag some blankets from a local store, maybe see if they could go find Iseli. With the random pool of blood they had left in the alleyway, the police weren’t quite sure what to do since they couldn’t find the body or the living person. Quincy didn’t want to stay long enough to find out. This man, Rebel quietly reasoned through a few calming waves of energy over their connected hands, could be of help to them. Or, Quincy communicated back with a few pulses of violet, he could hurt them even worse.
“Yes, I was. Come here, I want to help you.” The man beckoned them over, his hood shifting a little bit to reveal some bandages over his own eye.
“Rebel, I don’t trust him,” Quincy whispered sharply to their other half, though they let Rebel lead them closer.
“Quin, we don’t have much of a choice. Any help is welcome,” Rebel answers, then smiles sweetly at the man and takes a few steps closer, still staying a safe armslength away from him. They wouldn’t risk getting grabbed. “How is it you want to help us?” The man looked around cautiously, making sure nobody is paying attention to them, then smiled a little at them.
“I’ve seen how well you two work together for resources, extra luxuries. I know a place where you won’t have to risk your life for your earnings like you did in that alleyway. A place for thieves to live without fear of being taken by the police. They’re going to find that body eventually, and I can’t imagine it wouldn’t be obvious that someone killed that woman with a magic blade.” He shook his head, taking a step back.
“Actually, sir, the pocket of space she’s in-”
“Will unfold soon enough, no young caster’s magic is stable enough to be permanent. And please, call me Garret. They know me well enough at the Guild for my name to get you places. You should come with me,” he rummaged around in the inner folds of his scarf and pulled out a well-polished medallion with a strange emblem the two had never seen before on its face, “join us.”
“I don’t know about this. How do we know we can trust you?” Quincy frowned at Garret, squinting with their good eye.
“Quincy! That’s rude, he’s offering us a safe place to stay.” Rebel elbowed Quincy in the side, making them scoff and glare slightly at their other half before looking back to Garret.
“No, it’s okay Rebel, Quincy has every right to be suspicious of us. Their lack of trust has been vital to your survival, after all.” Garret tucked the medallion back into his scarf, seeming to be considering something. “Edric, could you come out and help me? I’m not all that sure how to convince them to join us.”
“Garret, you said I wouldn’t have to help you,” a voice groaned from nearby, the air in that spot rippling as a dark-boned skeleton stepped out of the spot. “As long as you two don’t touch me, I’ll be fine. From what I’ve heard from Garret, you two would be a great team to have in the Thieves’ Guild. I mean, tentacles from one and bottomless pockets from the other? What are you two, super skeletons?”
Oh, that definitely fed Quincy’s ego quite a bit. “Welll, I do like to think so,” they said, grinning and chuckling to themself a little. “Though, I’m sure it’s just through practice, hard work, and caution that got us to where we are,” they added quickly, clearing their throat and attempting to be humble about their accomplished level of comfortable homelessness. Rebel snickered and shook their head, wrapping an arm around Quincy.
“What they meant to say was that was a very nice compliment, but we were actually created together, so we work well as a team. Sometimes we just don’t see eye-to-eye on how to handle certain situations, though. I’m more outgoing than they are,” Rebel explains calmly, squeezing Quincy a little and smiling sweetly up at the brothers in front of them. “But I’d love to join your organization, just as long as Quincy would too.”
“I suppose if Rebel is going, I’ll at least stay there for a little while. Do you have anywhere I can train for combat? I don’t want to make this mistake,” they point to their patched-up eye, “again.”
“Anywhere? Quincy, we don’t just have a sparring area, we have people who regularly come in and spar with each other and can teach others. I think you’d fit in perfectly there. Oh- and maybe I can see if Dominic can design a cool eyepatch for you, huh?” Garret grinned, setting a hand on his hip.
“Wait, really? But- if you know someone who can make eyepatches, how come you still wear bandages like that?” Quincy was excited at first, then hesitant to believe Garret. It was a reasonable question, but Quincy could feel the dip in Garret’s emotions and see the smile on his face drop.
“Oh, this? It’s uh… not exactly something you can just put a patch over, kid. It’s a little… melted.” His smile returned, a little uneasy, and he chuckled softly. “Besides, the bandages make me look less approachable so nobody on the streets bothers me. If I’ve already been wounded once in my life so badly I still wear the bandages and walk around like nothing happened, I must be someone they don’t want to mess with.”
“What about your scarf? Where did you get it? Do they have another-” Rebel had reached to touch Garret’s scarf, but they didn’t get to finish their sentence or touch the scarf before Garret’s hand grabbed Rebel’s wrist in a movement too fast for them to react to. Rebel’s eyelights flicked up to the man’s expression, finding him looking almost frantic. Quincy looked completely ready to fight Garret at a single word from Rebel, but they stayed still because they knew better than to attack this man.
“Don’t touch it. It used to belong to someone… very dear to me. He’s gone now.” Garret let Rebel go and stepped back, which let Quincy relax and observe this man’s emotional aura. Pain, unbelievable pain that had likely been bottled up for a long time, and a strong melancholy, along with the slightest bit of panic, fear, but of what?
“I… I’m sorry, Garret, I didn’t mean to strike a nerve with that,” Rebel apologized, pausing and looking over as Quincy grabbed their hand and communicated Garret’s feelings to them. Rebel frowned, sending a few golden sparks back that the brothers didn’t understand the meaning of at all. Why were the two exchanging magic like that?
“It’s okay, sometimes we can get a little touchy about the subject of his passing,” Edric responded, looking down at the ground. Anger, Quincy felt his anger. Quincy sent a few purple sparks back to Rebel, then let go of their hand and stepped forward.
“Garret, Edric, can I show you something?” they asked calmly, holding out their hand to Garret.
“I… suppose so. What is it?” Garret seemed cautious, suspicious after what he’d seen from these two, but he supposed there could be worse than two teenagers against the two of them.
“Here, just touch my hand.”
Almost immediately, a strange black substance flowed from Garret’s fingertips, swirling around Quincy’s hand and running up his arm, across his shoulders, and settling in a growing sphere in their other hand. Edric was alarmed at this, but Garret seemed to be relaxing, the stress, anger, sadness slipping away from him. Soon enough Quincy let go, and the flow from Garret’s fingertips ceased. The sphere had grown to the size of a basketball at their fingertips, resting there like an ominous void in a bubble.
“What… What did you do…?” Garret was confused. Quincy had just taken all of his negative feelings and… was that what he was holding? Is that where it all went? He didn’t feel his usual bitterness or the same strong underlying anger anymore, just an unusual sense of calm.
“Wow, that’s… a lot.” Quincy frowned at the sphere resting- floating? Was it solid?- in their hand, Rebel looking quite alarmed nearby. “I drained the negativity your aura was showing, which I can…” they trailed off, looking more focused on the dark sphere than Garret. Slowly, Quincy raised their other hand and dipped their finger into it before drawing back and making a tendril of darkness follow behind their finger. So it wasn’t a solid shape.
Edric and Garret watched as Quincy shook flicked their finger dismissively, sending the tendril back into the sphere and resting the fingers of their free hand on the outer edge of the sphere. It glowed a soft violet, then imploded before quickly returning to its original size, now as a ball of energy for Quincy to do whatever they wished with. They choose to absorb it, store it for later. It disappeared, looking to have soaked into Quincy’s hands, before the violet energy faded completely out of sight.
“It’s an easy conversion to energy and- oh, that really was a lot.” Quincy grinned and bounced on their heels, giggling to themself. “Not- That isn’t really a good thing for you,” they added, looking to Garret with a sheepish smile and shrugging, “but now it’s gone, so it’s good for me, and you don’t have to feel it anymore.”
Garret and Edric look to each other. There was no doubt about it, they had to have the two in the Guild. “Come with us, we’ll get you to the nearest headquarters and get you a room. Is there anything- or anyone- that you want to bring with you?”
Rebel and Quincy look at each other, then back to Garret and Edric. “Iseli,” they say in unison.
