Nobody noticed when Orion died.
He went quiet, the world kept spinning, and somehow he got back up like nothing had happened. The broken sci-lab device he’d been tinkering with looked the same as ever—silent, useless, dead. Just like he had been.
Orion didn’t realize anything was wrong.
But something had come back with him. Something hungry. Something that kept leaking into his moods, making him lash out, pressurizing him from the inside.
He lost friends.
He picked more fights.
Even his parents scolded him for being “difficult.”
He felt clueless and hurt.
So he did what stressed teenagers do best: he ran away.
Tiny flaw in that plan—he had powers now. Powers tied directly to whatever he was feeling.
So the moment he wanted to be anywhere else, reality said “bet.”
He blinked—
—and landed on top of a kid in pajamas with the thickest accent he’d ever heard.
Twelve-year-old Jack Constantine shoved him off with a scowl that could peel paint… right up until Orion started crying out of sheer panic.
A little chaos later, the two swapped stories:
Jack hated his home life.
Orion had apparently teleported across continents by accident.
Jack could work with this.
They ran away together, two disasters wandering the world. Jack studied forbidden magic. Orion tried to understand whatever lived inside him. Somewhere along the line, they stumbled across an abandoned, weirdly alive house that decided to adopt them both.
When Jack was sixteen, he learned teleportation.
When Jack was sixteen, he also overdid teleportation.
He dragged Orion with him and they both faceplanted into a bush in front of a girl who had definitely watched them materialize out of thin air.
Before either boy could form an excuse, she started chanting in not-Latin-but-suspiciously-Latin, and suddenly they were floating like startled cats.
Her name was Zila.
She just happened to know magic too.
The trio formed fast—three flavors of disaster, studying arcana, comparing scars, sharing food, and avoiding responsibility.
Years later, Jack and Zila left to travel and hone their craft. Orion stayed to study. Life finally felt stable.
Until the night someone knocked on his door.
There stood Jack, Zila…
and a man wearing a pointy-eared mask and a cape.
Apparently the world was ending.
Apparently they were the solution.
The world is under the control of a government superpower! What happens when your character(s) are/is captured by the overlords of the world and put on death row?
hi! i’m super new to this whole tumblr thing, but i wanted to try doing inktober for once. i decided to just make up my own daily prompts, so we’ll see how this goes. of course, i need to make up for 3 days, so i’ll be posting a lot tonight :))
aaah it was nice writing about my characters. I haven't done so in so long. Hope you enjoy it!!
The smog was heavy. It pressed down on the ruins of Gorgothmir. The once glorious city had been tall and beautiful. The elderly, the people who could remember, said that the buildings had been so tall and were so intricately designed that the goddesses themselves would have their weekly dances on the tops of the spires. Many had believed the city to be blessed by Anfarli, the Great Goddess, and had many names for it. The Golden City. The City of Sacred Light.
A cheerful, tuneless whistle echoed throughout the city. The silence retreated from the noise with a threat, but the whistler paid it no mind. Drulid walked through the desolate streets as though it were any other town or village. He felt his foot hit something and the faint jingle of metal reached his ears. Pausing in his whistling, he looked down and found his foot had connected with abandoned keys probably for a rusting anbike. He picked them up with a thoughtful look on his face and pressed the unlock button. A faint horn sounded from somewhere in the smog and a grin found its way onto his face.
"Awesome!" The keys went into a bag at his side and he carried on walking. He began humming a song his father used to sing to him. It was lively and daring. Although the grin stayed on his face and his demeanour appeared calm, his eyes flicked from side to side as though waiting for something. His fingers twitched and he couldn't help glancing at the buildings his friends were watching from. He had been walking around the same few streets for almost an hour whistling and humming, trying to entice the deathwalkers to him. Drulid had long since decided that being bait was not fun but, as Jutter had so nicely put, he was the most annoying out of the five of them. Deathwalkers were bound to come out of wherever they were hiding just to shut him up.
Drulid quite resented that statement.
A quiet shuffling noise came from behind him. The sound was dampened by the smog so Drulid almost missed it. Almost. He stopped walking and took his bag from off his shoulder to look around it. His humming became actual words as he searched.
"So if you see the Boogeyman
turn and laugh at him.
He'll get so scared, caught unprepared
and dive under your bed again."
His fingers closed around the object he was searching for and brought it out as he came to the end of the song. The fire ruby gave off a warm glow that gave his hand an eerie shine. The shuffling noise got closer and closer behind him. Drulid murmured an unintelligible word and the stone's glow became brighter. Satisfied with the result, he turned around and searched for movement. He didn't have to look for long. Three deathwalkers were stalking him, heading towards him with their stiff and awkward gait. The sight of them repulsed him and he couldn't help the shiver that ran through him. He glared at them coldly. They weren't particularly fast, but what they lacked in speed they made up for with cunning and an ability that was fatal. If you were to look directly into their eyes, you would become their puppet. Your body was no longer your own. They would make you do whatever they wanted you to do, which was normally let yourself be eaten. If you were lucky, they would keep you alive and use you as bait to lure in unsuspecting victims. Or turn you.
Their bodies were skeletally thin. Every bone could be seen through their yellow skin. The name deathwalkers came from their dead-like appearance, like they shouldn't be able to lift a fly, never mind walk. They had no hair on their bodies at all. Teeth erupted from their mouths, long and jagged, perfect for tearing flesh and gnawing bone.
Drulid brought the stone to the front of him, aiming at the middle of the creatures, and tapped it with his index finger twice. A bright streak of fire-like light shot out of it and hit the creature through its chest. The fire spread from the hole and turned the thing into smouldering ash. The other two looked at the pile of deathwalker remains and back at Drulid, screeching with rage. Without looking at them, he shot another streak of light into the sky and placed the ruby back in its bag before dropping it to the floor. After hearing that screech, more deathwalkers would be coming. It was likely they were already there, waiting in the shadows. The two deathwalkers were moving towards him quicker now. The one he had burned was already reforming itself, the ash becoming bones and skin once again. The Aneri glanced behind him and saw 7 more deathwalkers coming out of the buildings and alleys. He cursed. He was itching to get into battle, but without his sword all he could was wait.
Tira arrived first. She threw Thrandil to Drulid before unsheathing her own sword. He caught it with almost no effort. By the time he had glanced to the ever growing number of creatures and back, Tira had already torn apart 3 deathwalkers and was onto her third. Elves were fast. Jutter came next. Drulid had just killed his first one and turned to smile at the team's unofficial leader. The mithr rolled his eyes and drew his daggers, ready to face the walker heading towards him. Rennor and Molky came at the same time. Molky already had her first arrow notched and drawn back, ready to fire. The precision of the arrow she shot was so unerring; it went through the bodies of two walkers and stuck itself in a third. At this point, the group was almost overwhelmed by the things. The whole city had been overrun with them and it actually quite surprised the 5 of them that they had hidden themselves so well.
After watching the fight from a ways away, Rennor charged into the fray, leaving Molky behind to shoot arrow after arrow from her bow. The 18 year old found himself almost back to back with his elder brother. It was something that he always managed to do and it kind of annoyed him. He was never sure if it was him finding his way to his brother or his brother finding his way to him.
"Hey Ren," Drulid smirked as he ducked under a clawed hand, "you doing okay?"
"Never better, brother dear." He replied as he dodged a particularly vicious swipe. "How about you?" Dru shifted his right arm in response to show Rennor the bleeding gash.
"I've been better and I've been worse." Dru answered. Rennor scowled as they got separated again. He hated the fact that his brother was right; he had been worse. That gash was just one wound in a long line of many others. It frustrated him to no end. As he slashed and dodged and thrust, he heard a faint fwip behind him. Finishing off the walker in front of him, he turned to see an arrow sticking out of a skeletal body behind him. He turned to Molky and found her already aiming at her next target.
~(.*.)~
Almost an hour later, they were still fighting. There had been more deathwalkers than they had planned for and it didn't help that if you didn't hit them just right with the correct metal, they wouldn't die. The five of them were all still alive, but were running on their last vestiges of energy. There weren't many of the things left now, but enough to keep their attentions divided. Jutter was the worst off. Blood poured from different holes and scratches on his body and there was definitely a black eye forming. He favoured his left leg and a scowl of pain adorned his features. Molky was only a little better. Having ran out of arrows only a quarter of the way through the fight, the dwarf had taken to her sword, which she was only average with. Green blood trickled from a small scratch on her forehead. There was enough blood flowing that it went into her eyes and obscured her vision slightly. Tira and Rennor were the ones faring best, although they had not escaped a few cuts and bruises.
Drulid was getting just a little frustrated with the things. He performed a complex manoeuvre and took out two walkers at once. Feeling slight smugness with that small victory, he smiled. He glanced around to see if the rest of them were doing okay when he caught the eye of a deathwalker and his body suddenly froze. The eyes were horrible. The whites were so bloodshot that it was barely white at all. A bruised purple flecked with yellow ringed the pupils. The pupils were so dark and so big that Drulid felt he was being sucked into them. They were so terrible and he felt scared. Those eyes were everything. He took a step forward. Glee that was not his own filled his head and a voice, slithery and sinister, spoke.
Yes. Come. Come to me, brave one. Come and rest. You've waited long to rest, have you not? Come and rest. Come to me and sleep forever.
The words echoed throughout his whole being. He tried to struggle against the pull he felt. He tried to struggle against his own body, but in the face of such horrible eyes, he could do nothing but feel scared and like a child again.
You want this. You are tired, aren't you? Don't struggle against me. This is what you wanted after all. You came to this battle tired. You planned to die like this.
Without meaning to, as though it could not only control his movements, but his mind as well, he felt himself agreeing. He felt himself accepting his fate.
I wonder if it will hurt. He felt himself idly wondering as his body walked, eyes still fixed on the purple ones.
Of course it will. But you deserve it, don't you? For everything bad you've ever done. You've hurt a great many people. This is only your punishment. You deserve it. But don't worry. After the pain, there is nothing at all. You can finally sleep.
Distantly, he could hear Rennor shouting him.
He's better off without you. You know that.
Hands grabbed at his arm and tried to pull him back. When his head turned to look at the owner of the hands, he found his brother looking desperately at him.
"Drulid! Come on Dru! You can fight this! You're stronger -" He cut himself off when he saw Drulid drawing back his sword arm. "Dru?"
He's getting in the way of your well-deserved rest. Kill him.
The sword stuck in Rennor's side and the younger brother let go of the elder. The Aneri turned back to the creature and carried on walking. Behind him, he could hear the soft thump of a body hitting earth.
He was almost there - almost made it down the ruined street with the slithering voice making assurances all the way - when a flicker of silver and blue distracted his focus. Still under the spell, he looked behind the walker and saw Tira just as she disconnected the thing's head from its body. It felt like a punch to his gut when he could finally move himself. He gasped for breath and looked at the elf. He was surprised to see the anger on her face as she glared at the body. It was gone again when she looked back at Drulid, the emotionless face back.
"Go to your brother." She told him. He nodded and ran back to where his brother lay with his sword still in his side. There were only a few creatures left and the others could quite easily deal with them. He dropped down next to his brother and was glad to see him still breathing. Barely.
"Rennor? Anfar, please be okay. Ren, answer me. Are you okay?"
"Never better." He wheezed. Dru almost giggled with relief. Almost.
"Good. Okay, good. I'm sorry, Anfar, I'm so so sorry. Okay I'm gonna heal you as best as I can, okay? Okay, here goes..." Drulid closed his eyes and concentrated his anearal through the small fire ruby in his pendant. He pulled the sword out of his brother and put his hands over it, trying to keep the blood where it should be. He visualised the anearal searching through the wound, seeing how deep it was. Thankfully, it had only nicked a rib bone and been unable to penetrate any major organs. He then concentrated on making it stitch up the wound, closing it from the inside out. The discomfort of the wound closing itself made Rennor grimace. He opened his eyes when it stopped just in time to see Drulid sway slightly and his eyes droop a little before grinning his 'I'm simply the best' smile.
"That should do it. I'm not able to replace the blood so you'll be a little tired for a while. So. You sleep and I'll carry you back." He stood up and glanced at Jutter who had just finished off his last deathwalker, a look of disgust on his face. Rennor was about to protest and push himself up when he felt his eyes close and sleep overtake him.
~(-*-)~
He woke up to find himself being unceremoniously dumped on a scratchy inn bed. Opening his eyes, he saw his brother yawning and stretching. He watched as Drulid made his way over to the rug next to the fire.
"Dick." Rennor practically snarled. Dru turned to smirk at him as he lay down.
"I told you, you needed to sleep."
"I could've walked back. You didn't need to put me to sleep." Dru sighed and closed his eyes.
"Just go back to sleep, Ren." He said quietly, almost asleep himself. There was a rustling as the 18 year old tried to get himself comfy without hurting his once-wound, then silence. For a while.
"I'm sorry, Furil." came the tired voice from the rug.
"I forgive you. I always forgive you, Andril." Rennor replied, but his brother was already softly snoring.
When Jutter entered the room later, slightly tipsy from drinking, both brothers were asleep and the fire had almost gone out. Snorting softly to himself, he grabbed a blanket from the cupboard and threw it over Drulid. Then, slipping quietly into the other bed, he thought about Molky and Tira still drinking downstairs and the fact that they were all still alive.
Here you go nice anon! I loved writing this!! Mainly because I really really love snow and winter so thank you!
I pull the blanket tighter around my body before I'm even fully awake. An errant thought floats through my half awake mind.
I'm not sure why, but this brings me even further to the surface of my sleep, enough to carry me over into the waking world. Wanting to go back to sleep, I keep my eyes closed and let my mind drift again. Sleep doesn't come back to embrace me again though so I sigh and sit up, only opening my eyes after yawning. A sense of wrongness encompasses me and for a moment I don't know why. Only a moment.
It's quiet. I look at the window across the room from me. It's currently covered by a thick blind, blocking most light from shining through. Where are all the cars? I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stumble to the window. The pulley system of the blind confuses me only for a second as I'm still not fully awake, but I soon manage to view the outside world. The light blinds me for a moment and I have to blink a couple of times before I can see. When I can see, I gasp. The whole world is white.
Snow has blanketed the tiny portion of earth that I can see. I can see no trace of the ground that is underneath. So much has fallen. From what I can see on the trees, there must be 10 inches of the stuff. And it's still falling. It is coming down in thick flakes, slowly, gently. The flakes settle on the fresh, crisp snow on the floor. So much of it everywhere. This miniscule patch of the world that my eyes can take in might as well be the entire world because there is nothing else but the snow and the houses.
The houses. The road. Where are all the cars? I think again. Where is everyone? In the time I've been stood at the window watching the snow fall, nothing living has moved. Not even behind the curtains in the windows. Frowning, I look at the snow already on the ground and it is blank, untouched. No-one has ventured outside at all. That in itself is odd. Usually the cars still stubbornly make their way down the main road, the drivers desperately trying to get to work. Children have usually found their sleds and wellies and really thick coats to make their way to the steep hill that's great for sliding down when it has snowed. But there is no-one and nothing. It's like I'm the only one left on earth.
I shiver, the warmth of sleep leaving me for the cold of snow and wakefulness. I turn away from the window, letting the blind fall back in pace. The room is dark again now and I get back in bed to cover myself in blankets and get warm. That's when confusion hits me with full force. I whine, torn between the blissful joy of the snow and the horrible confusing thoughts. Looking towards the window once again, one thought out of the many hundreds comes to the forefront of my mind.
