#reaper mood

[commanderguixi]

Elena, at 13: FUCK Volk, sharp gasp: Elena! Volk, later: Alright, which one of you FUCKS taught her to swear?! Sveta & Peytor:

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I’ve created the worst outfit idea that I have to draw

Elena in This:

[commanderguixi]

I’m having a lot of thoughts about the Reapers and Elena again.

[commanderguixi]

There are definitely elderly members within the Reapers -- fully certified members -- but since they are too old to get back into combat they often take non-combative roles at camp or pursuit a path in medicine to heal the injured and sick wolves of their pack. They, despite the clear hierarchy in place, are highly respected. Even Volk is known to back down and not assert his patriarchal status if one or more are in strong disagreement with a choice.

Reapers respect age. However, this has worked against them as some of the more stubborn members will refuse to take orders from someone greatly younger than them, even if they might outrank them. Elena, being one of the youngest original is a subversion to this, for the most part, though she has been challenged over it before.

[commanderguixi]

Reapers Gothic

“darkness is your friend.” they tell you. there is always company in the darkness. you are not alone. you feel the weight of a thousand stares on your back. you glance around. there is only the darkness. do not acknowledge the void. it may acknowledge you.

smoky liquid captures the taste of burnt wood. the elixir warms your throat. your stomach. your soul. it was brewed of the earth. you taste the earth. you are soothed. the flask is never empty, but you always say, “i am on my last swig.” you have been on your last swig for three weeks and four days.

you wrap yourself up in your coat. it is cold. you pull it tighter. you feel colder. a fellow wolf offers you their pelt. you are reaching below zero. you will never escape the winter. you are the winter.

patriarch volk is an odd man. his hair is black. his clothes are black. his eyes are black. the glints are of white are his teeth. of a knife. you have never seen him in action, but he speaks death and cuts with a look. the weight of the world is visible on his shoulders.

“who is the hunter?” sprawling files and incoherent data spider out before you. the information changes with every blink. words slide off of the paper. data corrupts. your eyes feel bloodshot. the information marches in your head like ants. you never receive an answer. you find yourself praying you do not get one.

snarling, gnashing teeth. you bite the hand that feeds you. sink it into alien flesh. it all tastes like chicken. you forgot what the taste of chicken is even like. you eat. you feast. you are always hungry.

dragunova’s sight is too keen. ‘what do you see?’ she looks at you strangely. dread eats your guts at what she may have saw in you. “blood and earth.” what did she tell the others?

“do not follow the cry on the wind.” you wave it off as nonsense. you track, and you hear the sound of a faint cry carried by the breeze. it sounds like someone you knew. you do not look back.

everything grinds to a dead stop when the rain falls. you vaguely recall asking why. the heads of your fellow wolves slowly turn up to watch the sky. everyone knew why. you knew why.

someone asks your name. your mouth moves, but no words are voiced. they understand. you do not know what you said, but you understand. your name belongs to dead languages you never knew.

[commanderguixi]

Well Intentioned But Terrible Found Father Accidentally Creates A Killing Machine For A Found Daughter

[commanderguixi]

Hiræth

Hiraeth: the homesickness for a home you can never return to; a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

“Kid, get moving. If we don’t clear off this place is going to be swarming with death patrols in fifteen.”

“Fuck off. I’m tired. If I don’t rest, who cares about the patrols. Chryssalid’s will get us.” Elena really wasn’t, she could walk a cross-country and then some. But she felt.. drained. The encounter in the Black Market hadn’t helped, coming across some of the more unfortunate folk from the very same haven that they all inhabited once. Most of them joined Volk’s ambitious rebellion against the Aliens – even if he saw it more like survival than a statement – others..

Others hadn’t taken to his idea. And she did not want to dwell on what became of them.

Volk spared his surrogate daughter a rough look over his shoulder. It wasn’t often that her bark carried any bite, but on this occasion, he could feel the hurt in the grumbling undertone. Whilst he still had half a mind to simply chuck her over his shoulder and endure her protest, he sighed instead. The man turned, stock of his rifle planted on the ground as he crouched into a squat.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

He eyed her once again. Rolling his eyes to the heavens, he shuffled over to her and slung an arm around her shoulders. She didn’t even kick up a fuss as he drew her into his warm coat and shielded her from the chill. Eventually, Elena’s defenses dropped, and she slumped against his leg.

“Now.” Volk adjusted her a little so she had better support. “You want to talk about it?”

“Seeing Anya…” Elena wet her lips uncertainly; sniffling and furiously wiping at her face with the back of her finger-less gloves. “.. seeing her again made me think of h-home. What’s left of it, anyway. Maybe instead of attacking the Officer, I should have –”

“Surrendered?” he echoed.

“ … It’s my fault, V-Volk. They burned it down because I –”

“Oh, fuck off with that noise.” He told affectionately. “If you didn’t take that awl to his shin, you would’ve been loaded in the back of the truck with whatever God-forsaken strays they’ve picked up at this point. Shipped off to a city centre. Never to see the light of day again. And then they’d be back for more of the kids. Then they’d be back again. And again. Until there’s only the ‘unfavorables’ left.”

He tugged his coat closer around them both. “ – And then, волчонок, they would be back with fire, and their guns, and they would have burned it down anyway. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for your act of defiance. That what you want?”

“Maybe.” she grumbled, but not unkindly. “You are an ass.”

Volk grinned, and ruffled the top of her head, glad to hear his wayward daughter return somewhat back to normal. She huffed and swatted at his hands.

“Preparing you for the world, Elena. By the time I’m through with you, the whole fuckin’ planet’s gonna be in your jaws. Just you wait. Now come on, we’ve gotta scram. Patrol’s on it’s way.”

[commanderguixi]

Random thought: Volk discovering the fact that Berserkers, even wild ones, will never harm a child and sending Elena, between the ages of 11-14, to head into their troops to see if she can scavenge some food since none of the Berserkers will attack her. They will, however, stop her from leaving until she’s fed and cleaned.

For the more ADVENT-disciplined ones, if they catch her trying to steal from their depot, that would usually result in her being picked up and dumped at whomever is the leader there. Somewhat clumsy, but not intentionally harming. They typically ignore her if she was just sneaking, however.