Just a little piece about my D&D character, Reylith. She’s a (copper) dragonborn sorcerer who loves animals. My DM suggested that taking a level or two in Druid might be just her thing and I’ve been trying to figure out exactly HOW one accomplishes that. LOTS of resources tell you about the right races to choose (dragonborn isn’t one) and the best multiclasses (Sorcerer REALLY isn’t one), as well as which spells will build the strongest druids and what circles work best for which type. But I couldn’t find much about how one actually starts to be a druid, so I decided to fudge the hell out of it. ;)
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Reylith aj Tz’ib’, the dragonborn head archivist for aj Tz’ib’ Library of Antiquarian Affairs, was taking a break from the stacks. Her younger cousin, Aliciar, would say she’d taken too many breaks already, but it had been a solid month since her last outing with the Wardens of Reliquary and she’d been working nearly every day since then.
It was good work, too; Rey loved her library and was always glad to meet and chat with those who came to study. It had been a good learning experience growing up and it continued to be one now that she’d reached adulthood.
However, there were some things that couldn’t be learned through pure study, which was why she was traveling outside the boundaries of the city. Her adventures in monster-hunting with the Wardens were exciting, but they’d shown her that some of her skills still needed honing. Such as combat, both physical and spellwork. She’d come out to the desert so she could practice without worrying that anyone would laugh at her if she got something wrong... or that she might accidentally hurt someone if she fumbled.
Mewphistophiles was her only companion at the moment, and the grey-and-orange cat was far more interested in hunting bugs and dancing around the sand than in Rey’s archery and quarterstaff practice. Even the spells being flung weren’t of much interest to him, though he did chase the motes of light she conjured to amuse him.
They’d been out for the better part of the morning, but Rey felt- or hoped- that she was starting to improve. All she wanted at the moment, however, was a place to have a short rest and maybe eat some of the lunch her friend Toniah had packed for her.
“Come on, Mew, let’s try over this ridge.” Rey started forward but then found herself slowing again. She frowned. Sun on sand could play funny tricks on the eyes, but there was something odd about the color and shape or the ridge ahead of them. Mewphistophiles made a noise that was half growl and half unhappy warble and started to back up.
At the same time the shape on the ridge shifted and Relith found herself being regarded by a large slit-pupiled golden eye. The being stretched, and she gasped with delight as two beautiful rainbow-feathered wings spread wide.
A couatl! She’d read about these! Most of them preferred jungle terrains, but a few had learned to adapt to the desert. Celestials. She’d never even dreamed of meeting one before!
“Wow, you’re beautiful!” She murmured, dazzled by the shimmering scales and bright feathers.
A dry chuckle brushed through her mind. The couatl, who was easily twelve feet long, began to slither, its large head coming closer to her. Mewphistophiles yowled and launched himself at her, landing on her back and scrabbling his way up until he was pressed against her neck.
“You aren’t afraid of me, little sorceress?” The couatl spoke in a voice like wind over the dunes.
“Should I be?” Everything Reylith had read about couatls said that they were innately good. She reached up, trying to give Mew some reassuring pats, but it was hard to tear her eyes away from the sight before her.
“Only if you mean me harm.” It- she, Rey suspected- smiled, showing off two gleaming fangs.
“I could never.” Rey shook her head. “What are you doing out here? Do you need help?” She couldn’t see any obvious signs of injury, at least. “I, uh, have water,” she offered, feeling inadequate.
The couatl chuckled again. “Your concern is admirable, little one, but I’m fine.” She raised her head until it was level with Rey’s own. “Tell me, might I know your name? My own is Cochitta.”
“I’m Reylith,” Rey said. “And my fierce protector here is Mewphistophiles.”
“I’m pleased to meet you both,” Cochitta said. “Although I have a feeling young Mewphistophiles might disagree.”
Mew hissed, shivering. He was all but trying to bury himself into her neck. Rey gave him more reassuring scritches.
“Sorry. He’s... Well...”
“Understandably cautious around a much larger predator.” Cochitta sounded amused. “You care a lot for animals, don’t you, Reylith?”
“Of course! I love them! I even try to feed the birds when I can.” She thought of the flock of sparrows and pigeons that hung out near the library, taking dust baths and chittering up a storm.
“So I’ve heard.”
That gave her pause. She stared into the the nearest eye. “You... you have?”
Cochitta moved closer. Mew snarled and leaped off Rey’s shoulder, scrambling back before turning to hiss at the large feathered serpent.
“The lady of books and magic, guardian of the city and friend to beasts.”
Rey felt herself blushing. “I, well, I don’t know about being a guardian, that’s more of a warden thing, but-”
“Tell me, Reylith of Reliquary.” Cochitta’s eye seemed to get bigger, until it was all Rey could see. “Would you like to be able to do more to help the creatures you care for, to protect nature in all its forms and perhaps help your friends in the battle against Evil as well?”
Rey stared, mesmerized. Cochitta’s words seem to resonate in her very bones.
“The path of a sorcerer is a noble one, and one granted to you by blood. But druidry sings to you as well, and with my help you can become everything you were meant to be. What say you, Reylith? Will you accept this gift?”
Rey blinked and the trance was broken. “What? I mean, what? A druid? Me? How?”
She’d seen druids as they passed through the city and read stories of their capabilities and adventures. Shapeshifting! Speaking to animals! Healing! She’d been disappointed to find that that type of magic wasn’t available to her as a sorcerer. And now she was talking to a couatl who said she could have that after all!
Caution warred with desire. It was always possible that couatls weren’t as pure as the books said they were, but Cochitta seemed to radiate peace, and as she looked around she could see a few small yellow strands working their way out of the sand.
“There are many ways to go about it,” Cochitta said, “but the simplest involves a small bite.”
Rey eyed the large fangs, but even as her doubts rose, there was a shimmer and a much smaller, more ordinary snake where the couatl had been. She crouched down to look at it, offering her hand. The tongue flicked in and out as it “tasted” her and then the small cobra tilted its head, looking up at her.
Rey took a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay. Do it.”
The cobra struck, sinking its teeth into the webbing between her thumb and index finger. She flinched, expecting it to hurt, but instead it felt... it felt... Before she could find words to describe it, understanding slammed into her. She fell over in the sand, her thoughts in a whirlwind even as her heart continued a slow, steady beat that seemed in time with the world around her.
“Good luck, young druid.”
Relith wasn’t sure how long she stayed prone on the ground, but when she finally got her senses back in order, Cochitta was gone. Mewphistophiles was licking her eyeridge and purring up a storm. A small patch of hearty desert grass had sprung up around them and the sun was noticeably lower in the sky.
“Oof.” She sat up, scooping Mew into her arms. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” she told him. And it was true, more or less.
She managed to get back to her feet and took stock of herself. Something was definitely different, but it was going to require a lot more study before she tried to do anything.
“Alright, my valiant fuzzball, let’s go home.”
She turned, heading toward the gates of the city and wondering exactly what she’d gotten herself into this time.
Obi-Wan had lost track of what planet they were on; there’d been so many in the months since he’d run away from the Agricorps. It hadn’t been by choice. Well, no, it had definitely been his choice, but he couldn’t see how any reasonable being would have expected him to do anything different.
He scowled at the thought. His Masters had certainly seemed to think he shouldn’t have gotten involved. He shouldn’t have tried to save the life of a fellow Force wielder just because the wielder in question was steeped in Darkness. Obi might not have been good enough to be selected as a padawan, but he knew that a Jedi’s job was to help those in need. He’d never seen anyone who needed his help more than the skinny young zabrak he’d found struggling against a fully-grown rancor in an underground pit fight. It was hard to know who had been angrier at his interference, the bettors or the zabrak himself.
He glanced across the room at his companion, huddled in a threadbare cloak that did little to keep out the chill. It wasn’t doing much to hide the brilliant patterns of his red and black skin, either. They’d have to do something about that in the morning.
“Maul?”
“Shut up, Jedi,” Maul growled, hunching deeper into the shadows.
“If you’re cold…”
“I’m not cold!” Yellow eyes blazed at him. “I am not weak Jedi scum like you!”
Obi paused, trying to choose his words carefully. He’d made a lot of progress in the time they’d been together and was used to the insults, but Maul was still skittish as hell. He wasn’t sure what Maul’s life had been like before he’d rescued him, but the “Master” he kept referencing sounded like a monster straight out of nightmares. If he’d ever known a moment’s kindness it didn’t show.
“There are enough blankets for both of us.” He flapped the one wrapped around his shoulders. Maul had “acquired” them at some point during the day, shoving them into Obi’s arms with a muttered threat about not carrying his pale, weak ass if he collapsed from the cold.
“Pain makes you stronger! It drives out weakness!”
“No.” Obi grabbed some more blankets and shuffled across the small room. “Pain doesn’t make you stronger and suffering for no reason is stupid.”
“’M not stupid!”
“Then stop acting like it.” He made a nest out of the blankets and opened his arms. “C’mon, one night of being warm won’t kill you, I promise.”
Maul’s eyes gleamed in the dark and there was a flash of pale teeth. “Maybe I’ll kill you, instead!”
“That would be a terrible waste of blankets.”
There was a pause and a snort of what sounded like stifled laughter.
“Fine,” Maul said, scooting closer. “But only to make you stop whining.”
Obi smiled. He hadn’t thought it would work. Maul stopped just short of actually touching him, radiating tension.
“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” Obi did his best to project soothing emotions into the Force.
“I’d kill you first.”
“So you’ve said.”
Slowly, very slowly Obi shifted, wrapping his blanket-festooned arms around Maul. At the first touch Maul flinched, sending out a spike of fear that he quickly smothered again. After a frozen moment he started to relax, muscle by muscle, until he was leaning into Obi-Wan. Even through layers of clothes his skin felt like ice and Obi took a chance, hugging him closer.
“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
Maul growled, the sound vibrating through his chest. His whole body was trembling and Obi didn’t think it was just from the cold. If he ever found the man who did this, he’d kill him.
They shifted deeper into the blankets and the chill was replaced by a growing warmth of their combined body heat. He was still trying to project soothing thoughts towards Maul, not sure if it was having any effect. Maul’s shields were the strongest he’d ever encountered, but as he finally started to drift to sleep he thought he caught a thread of… something. And then he felt thin fingers wrap around his hand. Smiling, he pressed his nose against Maul’s shoulder and went to sleep.
can you do a Kalluzeb thing with Zeb just dragging Kal out of the Empire before Thrawn can hurt him (too much, anyway)
The mission had been a disaster from the start. The Imps had been waiting for them and Thrawn seemed to be two steps ahead of them all the way. It hadn’t stopped them from extracting Kallus from the cell he’d been thrown in. He was bloodied, bruised, and more disheveled than Zeb had ever seen him.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he warned.
“Nice to see you again, too.” Zeb flicked his ears forward.
“Save the teary reunion for later,” Ezra said, scanning the hall. “We gotta go!”
They raced for the hangar where Chopper was waiting with Phantom 2. Kallus helped direct them past areas where the troopers were too thick, one arm wrapped around his ribs while the other was held steady, firing the blaster Ezra had reluctantly provided.
“This is taking too long!” Ezra deflected another shot with his lightsaber.
“You should leave me.” Kallus leaned against a wall, panting. “I’m only slowing you down.”
Zeb’s ears flattened to his skull. “We didn’t come all this way just to leave empty-handed.
“The hangar is two corridors down, that way.” Kallus pointed with the blaster. “You should be able to reach it without too much more trouble.”
As he spoke the blast door ahead of them slammed closed.
“Excellent work, Agent Kallus,” said a silky voice. Thrawn stepped into view behind them and the corridor filled with troopers. “It seems our little ruse has worked.”
“What? No!” Kallus lurched upright, but Thrawn was faster, clamping a hand onto his shoulder.
“The rebels have fallen right into our trap.”
“I knew it!” Ezra started swearing.
Zeb, however, was watching Kallus. The agent’s face blanched whiter as Thrawn dug in his fingers.
“Garazeb-”
Their eyes locked. Pain, fury, and despair. Those were emotions that Zeb knew far too well. Chopper’s voice rattled over the comm, warning them of what was about to happen.
“You backstabbing Imperial scumvermin!” Zeb charged toward Kallus, who raised his hands, shouting denials. Thrawn stepped aside, a thin smile carved in his face.
At the last second he pivoted, planting a solid kick to Thrawn’s chest that sent him hurling back into his men. The look of shock on his face was glorious, but Zeb didn’t have time to savor it. He reached out, wrapping himself around Kallus as the other wall exploded and they were sucked out into space.
As rescues went it was a mess and he knew Hera was going to chew chunks out of them once they were docked with the Ghost again, but it still counted as a success. Ezra Force-pulled them into the cargo hold of the Phantom 2 before too much damage could be done. Chopper was undoubtedly crowing about his success, but Zeb couldn’t hear anything at the moment. He uncurled himself to check on Kallus, who had his face plastered to his chest and was still clinging on tight.
“You all right?” he asked, not sure if Kallus could hear him or not when he couldn’t hear himself.
Kallus twitched his head, which could have meant anything, and sank a little lower. Something hot and wet started soaking into into his uniform and for a moment he was afraid it was blood, but then he noticed the glisten to Kallus’s squeezed-tight eyes. He swallowed, suddenly feeling a lot more awkward.
“Uh… There, there,” he murmured, reaching up to stroke the disheveled blond hair. “No need for any, uh, waterworks. We’re all out safe and sound, right?”
He could see Kallus’s lips moving and hoped he was agreeing. Karabast, he was in so much trouble. Right now, though, as the human who had once helped destroy his people clung to him, shivering, he thought it might be worth it. Kallus had committed atrocities under the Empire and he’d answer for it eventually, but he’d already started trying to atone for it by giving up the only life he’d ever known to try and help the rebels. It was a small start, but it was more than he’d ever expected would happen. He smoothed down the wild hair- so unlike the fussy agent- and allowed himself to hope. Maybe things could change for the better after all. And maybe some good could be found even within a former ISB agent.
Kallus stiffened and pulled back, his professional mask slipping back into place. It was too late, though, Zeb had already seen what he’d been trying to hide: The Nightmare of Lasan had a heart. This was going to be interesting.
O Oberon: Character A gets angry at Character B over something they did.
“This is all your fault!” Maul bared his teeth in a snarl. “I was perfectly fine the way I was before! I had a Master! I had a place where I belonged! I had purpose!”
“Your Master brutalized you, Maul.” Obi-Wan struggled to keep his voice level. “The only place you belonged was at his feet. You were nothing more than a tool to to him!”
“Yes!” Maul stamped his foot. “I was his tool! He was crafting me to be his chosen weapon, meant to strike down his enemies and- and- Stop looking at me like that!” He turned his back, too-thin shoulders hunching as he stalked across the cell they were both trapped in.
Obi sighed, approaching him with caution. “You aren’t a weapon, Maul, you’re a person. What your Master did was abuse.”
“He was trying to make me stronger!”
“Strength can be achieved through kindness, too.” Obi placed a hand on his shoulder. Maul flinched but then eased into his touch. His skin felt too cold under his fingers. “I didn’t know your situation when I jumped into that pit, but I knew I had to help you.”
“Fool,” Maul muttered, but there was no fire to it.
“Maybe so.” Obi smiled. “But I like to think that both of our lives were improved by that act of foolish kindness. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Maul shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I think. We’re here, now, thanks to you. They’re going to kill me.”
Obi squeezed his shoulder. “They aren’t going to kill you, I promise. And...” He hesitated, trying to figure out how to put his decision into words. I’m only fourteen, I’m too young to provide for both of us. You need more training than I can provide. We both need protection from the monster hunting you.
“Oh yes? Are you going to stop them, then?”
Maul’s sneer interrupted his thoughts. “I won’t have to stop them,” he said, trying to project more confidence than he felt. “But if things go as badly as you fear then I’m sure we’ll think of something. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve managed a daring escape.”
Maul’s giggle- quickly smothered- was heartening to hear. A scuff of feet had them both turning towards the cell door. A Temple guard stood there, their mask unreadable. Maul pressed close against Obi’s chest and he slipped a protective arm around him.
“The Council will see you now,” the Guard said, unlocking the door.
Obi reached down, taking Maul’s hand in his own. “We’ll get through this. Together.”
Not sure if this works as a prompt, but how about Finn and Poe Trapped In a Small Space Together? Doesn't have to be necessarily romantic, but it's up to you. :)
“I thought you said this was a storage closet!” Poe shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position in the cramped quarters. It wasn’t possible. “What do they store in here, toothpicks?”
The cubbies he could feel pressing into his shoulders were bigger than toothpick boxes, but his point stood: the space they were crammed into was barely big enough for one of them, never mind both.
“Uh, yeah.” Finn huffed, his breath hot against Poe’s neck. “Sorry. It, uh, might be more of a charging station for the mouse droids.”
Poe blinked. “Mouse droids. Right.”
They froze, listening to the sound of armored feet jogging in formation passed the door. The plan to infiltrate the Pestilent had gone off without a hitch right up until they’d turned a corner and been confronted by a visiting Captain Phasma. She’d sounded the alarm (and started shooting at them, herself) and now, well, they’d think of something. Probably.
“I don’t mean to complain, Poe,” Finn murmured as another squad passed their hiding space, “but your blaster is digging into my hip.”
“My b-” Poe’s eyes widened. He had never been more grateful for the dark that hid his blush. “Oh! Right! Blaster. Sorry, buddy. You know how it is.” Did he sound strangled? He thought he sounded strangled. Of all the times for his body to betray him this really wasn’t the time. He hadn’t even sorted out his own feelings for Finn, never mind how Finn might feel about him. His body, however, seemed to have some definite ideas.
“Yeah. I do.”
His breath was tickling Poe’s ear and that was not helping at all. He licked his lips, swallowing against a confused muddle of emotions.
“Just like I know you keep your blaster in your back holster.” Finn shifted against him, sending little shocks up his spine and down into his extremities. He felt Finn’s arm slide around his waist, his hand settling at the small of his back, right over the holster in question.
“Uh…” Poe’s brain was shutting down, half in panic and half in something he didn’t want to think about.
“I guess that means this is your other weapon.”
Finn’s mouth was pressed against his ear. He couldn’t breathe. What the kriff was going on? Was Finn putting the moves on him? He couldn’t actually think that-
Hips shifted and his breath caught as he realized he could feel something pressing against his thigh, too. His heart sped even faster.
“This is my blaster, this is my gun,” Finn murmured. “One is for shooting, the other’s for fun.”
It took a minute for the words to register and then Poe snorted. “What?!”
“That’s what they taught us in trooper training.” Finn’s mouth was pressed into a smile against Poe’s jaw.
“That’s- that’s-” Poe couldn’t suppress a giggle.
“Terrible, right?” Finn chuckled, too.
Poe’s giggles dissolved into full-on laughter. He and Finn sagged against each other, laughing helplessly. When a confused tech opened the door Finn elbowed him in the throat and caught Poe’s hand.
“C’mon, man, it’s time to get this gun show on the road.”
It’s more of a snippet this time. Hope you like it! ;)
“Rey!” Finn jogged to a stop, the words catching in his throat.
“You can’t stop me, Finn!” She turned to face him, chin jutting out and hands clenching at her sides. “I have to do this! I have to stop him!”
Ravellon had risen, bathing the landscape in its pale blue radiance and making Rey seem even more ethereal than usual.
“I- I know,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “I’m not trying to stop you. I want to go with you.”
“Wh-?” Her brow furrowed as she stared at him, lacing her fingers with his. “No, I can’t ask that of you. It’s-”
“Good thing you’re not asking me, then.” He smiled. “I’m asking you. Let me go with you. We can take him down together.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, making it seem like they were full of moonlight. He could feel the tell-tale prick in his own eyes and blinked rapidly, trying to clear them.
“It’s a one way trip, Finn. I won’t be coming back.”
“I know.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “It’s worth it. You’re worth it.”
“Me?” She made a sound that was half laugh, half sob and tried to pull away. “Finn, no, I-”
“Rey.” He squeezed her hand, stopping her. “Please. Let me do this. You shouldn’t have to face that monster alone. We’re stronger together, right? Always have been.”
She nodded, spilling moonlight down her cheeks. He brushed his fingers against them.
“Two lightsabers are better than one. Well, two lightsabers and a buttload of explosives.”
She laughed, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lips to his ear.
“Finn...”
The words hung unspoken between them.
“I know.” He buried his nose against her neck, breathing in the scent of burning sand and delicate flowers. “Me too, Rey. Me too.”
Bodhi keeps up a steady stream of swears as he works on twisting wires together; rerouting, splicing, whatever it takes to get things working again. Something rattles in the cargo bay and he automatically lifts his head, looking to see what it is.
beepbeepbeep
His eyes focus so hard it hurts. He stares at the grenade. This is it. The end. His time is up.
beeeep
Everything seems to slow down. He sits up, inch by inch, unable to look away from the instrument of his death. All he feels is regret. He was so close. He got the systems back online. He almost made it. They almost made it.
bee-
Time stops. He takes a breath, knowing it’s his last. The world seems to double, triple, multiply around him like layers on a schematic.
He sees himself diving for cover, dying as the explosion catches him.
He sees himself running forward, trying to toss the grenade back out only to get shot by the troopers waiting outside.
He closes the door. It’s blasted off its hinges and kills him.
He dies, over and over again. There’s no way out.
He wonders, idly, if this is what Chirrut is always talking about; the Force, showing him there’s nothing he can do. If so, it isn’t very comforting. The Force isn’t with him, it’s against him.
As if thinking the name conjures the man he finds himself watching Chirrut and Baze. The layers are back and he watches them die in a multitude of ways. Sometimes Chirrut dies first, leaving a grief-stricken Baze to storm into the hail of blaster fire alone or to curl himself around his friend and wait for death to catch up with him or to blow both of them up and take troopers out with them.
Other times it’s Baze who dies first and watching how it shatters the last Guardian of the Whills is terrible to behold. Eyes shouldn’t hold that much agony.
It’s the same with Jyn, Cassian, and K-2SO. There is never a reality where Kaytoo doesn’t die first, determined to save his master and friend. Jyn dies. Cassian dies. Together and separately in a myriad of ways both humble and spectacular.
Bodhi’s eyes burn with tears he can’t shed. His heart aches. This isn’t how he imagined his last moments, even though he knew it was coming. He didn’t need to see all of this; didn’t want to know the inevitability of all of their deaths.
Why? He wonders. Why is he seeing all of these terrible things instead of having his life flash before his eyes? Not that his life had been one worth reflecting on, of course. He hadn’t been of much use to anyone until recently and even that was in a limited capacity.
“I’m just the pilot.”
The words rattled in his ears, startling him. They were true, though; he was just a pilot. Not a mystic or a warrior or a spy or a soldier. Just a pilot in the wrong place at the right time.
“I’m just… the pilot.” He blinks, and everything clicks into place, fitting as perfectly as the goggles over his eyes.
“I’m the pilot.”
-eep
Time started up again. Bodhi turned his back on the grenade, his fingers flying across the console. He was the pilot. And what did pilots do? They flew.
The transport lurched into the air, listing heavily to one side as he leaned on the stick. He heard the rattle-beep of the grenade as it rolled back across the floor… and out the still-open door.
The concussion from the explosion knocked him off his feet and the transport dragged along the ground, cutting a furrow through the surviving troopers until he could pull himself into his seat and strap in. His ears were ringing and blood trickled into his eyes, but he was still alive. He was alive and he had a ship and he had a mission. Grinning around his split lip he pushed the stick and headed out to retrieve his crew.
The Force might be everywhere, but sometimes all that was needed was a damn good pilot.
Rey rubbed at her eye with the back of her hand, spreading more grease along her face. She knew it had been a mistake to marathon the latest season of the Walking Dead, but with the premiere just days away she needed to be caught up. Stifling a yawn she finished tightening the bolts on the carburetor and slammed the hood of the Camaro.
Stretching, she wandered out of the garage to catch the last of the afternoon sun and get some fresh air. The street was more crowded than she expected and there was something weird about the way people were moving. Almost... shambling. Her gaze sharpened as she took in the rotting flesh and ratty clothes of the things moving past her garage.
“Urrrrrrr.”
She whirled, eyes wide as a dark-skinned zombie shuffled towards her. Blood trailed from his mouth and he still clutched a piece of intestine in his hand.
Instinct combined with months of training with Sensei Luke took over. She pivoted, landing a perfect roundhouse kick to the monster’s midsection.
He made a strangled sound, flying backwards to land on his back on the sidewalk. She stood in her ready stance, fists clenched, wondering if she should grab a crowbar or just run for it.
“Finn!” One of the other zombies broke from the ranks and ran over, crouching beside the one she’d flattened. He’d rolled onto his side, now, clutching his ribs and groaning even more.
“Buddy! are you okay?” The second zombie, with dirt matted into his wavy hair, glared up at her. “What the hell is your problem, lady?”
“What?” She stared, trying to process the scene. Zombies didn’t usually talk. And this... was starting to seem like a really ridiculous scenario. One of the corpses shambling by was wearing a bright red Zombie Jamboree 2016 t-shirt.
“You, uh... you’re alive?” It sounded stupid even as she said it.
“After a kick like that he might not be!” Dirty Hair was propping his friend up. “Finn, buddy, can you breathe?”
“Oh, kriff!” Face burning she knelt beside the stricken faux zombie. “I’m so sorry! I thought... uh...” Admitting that she though he was an actual zombie was going to make her sound even dumber than she already looked.
“Didja... get th’number... of th-bus?” Finn wheezed.
She tried checking his ribs for damage. He was well-muscled for a corpse. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I wasn’t thinking!”
“Clearly!” Dirty Hair narrowed his all-white eyes.
“S’okay,” Finn said. “Shouldn’t... sneak up on people.” He grinned up at her, his mouth crusted in fake (she hoped) blood. “Hi. I’m Finn. And my overprotective friend here is Poe. That’s some kick you have!” He held out his hand.
She shook it, still blushing. “Rey,” she said. “Rey Carid. Sorry for trying to kill you. You’re a very effective zombie.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Finn said.
“Can... can I invite you in?” She looked at Poe for approval. “I have water in the shop. It might help.”
“I don’t think-”
“Yeah!” Finn interrupted. “That sounds nice.”
She realized they were still holding hands. Pretending she’d meant to do that she stood, helping him back to his feet. This was going to be an interesting afternoon.
(prompt: “You were part of a zombie crawl but I thought you were an actual zombie” AU)
