#mathis montague

[marabolt]

End Run Round 2 Prologue Motion Comic

for @artsy-hobbitses

[marabolt]

End Run Round 2 Page 2 Motion Comic

for @artsy-hobbitses

[marabolt]

End Run Round 2 Page 1

for @artsy-hobbitses

[marabolt]

End Run Round 2 Prologue Motion Comic

For @artsy-hobbitses

[marabolt]

Indecent proposal

for @artsy-hobbitses

[marabolt]

For Oni.

I'd like to think that this is the song he was singing as he slowly made his way to the Rogues' camp.

Made with GarageBand on iOS.

[kessuburd]

Oops I wrote a thing

I watched The Grey for the first time last night and holy shit it was really good but fucking devastating oh my god.

So I wrote a thing as an attempt to relieve some of the FEELINGS.

Clouds of steam billowed into the frozen air from Rory's chapped lips, as it did from Mathis's where he sat propped against a fallen tree, as it did from the mouths of half a dozen wolves that circled them only a few yards away. "I'm sorry Rory, I couldn't see zhe ledge," Mathis panted, clutching an ankle twisted at an unnatural angle. Even in the bitter cold his face was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. "I couldn't--" "Shut yer gob, lad." said the Scot standing over him, wiping blood from a split lip. His other hand was clutched to his side, striving to stem a growing patch of red. "Just go on, I can distract zhem, zhey'll stay for--" "I said SHUT IT. There's no way I'm runnin' from a lot of bloody mutts. Open yer pack." Knowing it was pointless to argue further Mathis obeyed, keeping his eyes fixed on the snarling animals the entire time, hands moving slowly in hopes that he wouldn't provoke them to attack. " "Now give me those whiskey bottles, whatever's left of 'em." Mathis threw him an incredulous glare. "Mon frere, I don't think now is the time for drinking ourselves into a stupor." "Just fuckin' do it. Get that tape out too." Once this was done, Rory hurriedly ripped himself a couple of lengths of sturdy electrical tape and bound a few of the bottles to his hand, doing the same with his knife in the other. He handed Mathis the rest of the whiskey as he smashed the ones he held against the log to create a set of jagged makeshift knuckledusters. He turned for a moment to give Mathis a crooked grin. "If we're goin' down, we'd might as well take a few of 'em with us, eh? What do ye say, lad? One more time, just the two of us?" Mathis, eyes lighting up in sudden understanding, pulled a grim smile and began to rip off more lengths of tape with his teeth. "Oui. Just zhe two of us."

Rory pulled the Frenchman to his feet as the wolves circled closer and with a  few muffled grunts of pain they managed to set themselves back to back to stare defiantly at the beasts that hemmed them in. Over the past few days of wandering in the wilderness they had managed to kill three wolves, but there was little hope that they could take down the rest of the pack at once. It was into the fray this time, for the last good fight they'd ever know. "RIGHT YE BOGGIN' KNOBHEIDS, come bring yer ugly mugs over here an' have a taste o' what we got, aye?" "We'll give you zhe worst bellyache you've ever had, you ugly bastards!" The biggest member of the pack stopped and crouched, yellow eyes fixed on Rory's icy blue. "COME ON THEN!!" The wolf sprang with teeth bared, snarl almost drowned out by the brothers' defiant shout. Blood spattered across the newfallen snow.

[kessuburd]

Plague CB

((YOU ASKED FOR IT. ))

End Run, approx. 40 years after the war

Mathis woke with a start.

Dazed and still hearing the half-echoed remnants of dream he already couldn’t remember, he turned over in his sheets and glanced out the window through a crack in the curtains. It was dark, only a hint of pale wash hugging the horizon told him that morning was coming. It wasn’t his alarm that had pulled him out of sleep.

So why did he feel this sense of urgency, then?

In any case, he knew he was too restless to simply roll over and dismiss it with sleep again. He yawned, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, wincing at the popping of his knees that he still couldn’t get used to. Muttering, he rubbed the ache from his joints and shuffled out the door. He wasn’t thirsty, so rather than go downstairs to the kitchen he wandered down the hall until he found himself stopping by Rory’s door. He paused, a little unsure, then carefully pushed the door open with a soft creak.

“Mon frère? Are you awake?”

Rasping, labored breathing answered him from the back corner, a sound that had become all too familiar over the past months. Cancer, the doctors at Ecruteak’s top hospital had said, following this with sterile assurances that they would do everything they could to help the ailing veteran. Easy for them to say, snapping their gloves and scribbling notes on clipboards while Mathis’s oldest friend lay in bed wheezing blood.

But despite his illness Rory did seem to be awake already, his head tilted toward his good side to gaze out the window much as Mathis had earlier. He was propped up in bed, up against a nest of pillows in a position that helped aid his breathing a little. Mathis was struck not for the first time by how thin the man was, pale and nearly skeletal compared to the strength of his youth. Rory’s one eye still burned with the same cold fire as ever however, and so it still did when it turned toward his friend.

“Mathis?…Ye’re up early, lad…”

“Oui, I know. I couldn’t sleep anymore and for some reason I just came here instead,” Mathis said with a smile, knowing that any explanation he could try to come up with would sound silly. Surprisingly Rory didn’t push the matter, instead slowly taking in a shuddering breath and shifting against his pillows.

“…Promisin’ tae be a bonnie morning….d’ye think we could go outside? …Tired of this damned bed.”

“At zhis hour? I don’t recall you ever being a morning lark,” Mathis chuckled, already moving to Rory’s bedside. “If zhat is what you wish, Rory. I’ll get your chair in a moment.” he said, referring to the wheeled contraption set up in the corner. Rory however shook his head decisively as Mathis worked to help him up.

“Nae, I dinna want—“ his words were cut off by a fit of coughing, thin frame doubling over as it was wracked by painful hacking gasps for air. His own chest clenching with worry and thinking that perhaps a trip out of bed might not be the best idea after all Mathis began to gently push his friend back into the pillows, but his hands were soon waved away by Rory once the man caught his breath. “…Dinna…want the bloody chair…Can do it…myself.”

“Rory, are you sure zhis is a good idea?” Whether the idea was a good one or a not didn’t seem to matter though as Rory somehow gathered enough strength to sit up and push himself out of bed. With a bit of effort he stood, albeit rather shakily, for the first time in weeks, a miracle if there ever was one. He wobbled for a moment, and Mathis quickly caught him by the arm with a half-smile.  

“…Let me get a blanket, at least. It will be chilly.”

Mathis thought for sure that Rory’s knees would buckle at any moment but his friend walked with almost the same confidence as he had before the plane crash all of those years ago, and together they made it out the door and down the hall to where a pair of heavy wooden doors opened to the airy balcony built onto the side of the house. It faced eastward and now Mathis could clearly see the sky beginning to light up around the horizon as he helped Rory settle down onto the comfortable bench near the ledge. The aging Sinnohean draped the blanket around both of their shoulders and sat down with a creak of joints, shivering as he watched their breaths billowing about them in frosty clouds.

Rory coughed, thankfully less heavily this time, and leaned against Mathis’s shoulder with a contented sigh. Spring was beginning to touch the trees of the valley, painting their swelling tips with pale red and green and driving the last of the snow away. A flock of migrating birds shot over their heads, already chattering about the day’s business.

“Y’see lad….told ye that it’s…a bonnie mornin’.”

Mathis chuckled and rested his cheek against his friend’s greying hair. “I still say it’s a bit too cold.”

The two sat in silence, watching the sky slowly tinge pink and golden as the world woke up around them. After some time Rory rumbled softly.

“Mathis…?”

The Sinnohean stirred and yawned. “Yes?”

“…Thank ye…brother.”

The other man’s eyes widened a little, then softened as he smiled. Mathis could probably count on his hands the number of times Rory had actually called him that during their lifetimes.

“You’re welcome, Rory.” He wrapped one arm around the old Scot’s shoulders. “Are you warm enough?”

“Aye…” Rory sighed.

Another hour later, the sky was bright enough to properly see by. Mathis blinked the sun out of his eyes and stretched cold-stiffened joints, though he was careful not to jostle the sleeping man beside him.

“Rory, wake up” he murmured. “I’ll make breakfast.”

No answer.

After a moment it began to dawn in Mathis’s mind that there wouldn’t be.

Tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, Mathis hugged his slumbering brother tight to his chest and watched the birth of the new day.

“…You were right, Rory. It is a bonnie morning.”