Finneas flattened himself against the wall and motioned for Petra to join him. Whoever it was was coming from around the corner, and they wouldn’t have enough time to run back and duck for cover before the person caught them. Resigned to a confrontation, Finneas clenched his fists as a shadow appeared from the intersecting hall, growing longer and longer, and as it finally turned the corner Finneas found himself face to face with—
He wasn’t sure exactly what he was face to face with.
It was a person, a young person, that much he knew for certain, but everything else about them was ambiguous. They wore a loose-fitting tracksuit made from grey fabric with a greenish tint that hung off their lean, bony frame, blurring any distinguishing features their body might have. Their hair was shaved close to their scalp. But it was their eyes that unsettled Finneas the most— bottomless pools of inky black set against a pale, hollow face; a face with no expression, eyes with no life.
The arrival examined Finneas and Petra with an eerie kind of curiosity, scanning them with those soulless eyes of theirs. Their piercing gaze sent goosebumps down Finneas’ spine. He was too confused to move, yet strangely fascinated, unable to tear his eyes away from the unsettling sight.
The person flung out their arm. A vine shot out of their hand and wrapped itself around Finneas’ throat.
for context: the gang has invited themselves to a fancy gala at Councilor Gideon Black, aka Azami’s dad’s house to spy on some of the guests. dexaComs are this universe’s equivalent to smartphones-- they’re basically air pods that can create a holographic screen in front of your eyes. Finn and Val have elaborated a ruse to steal them from guests in a search for information.
for context on the “Lief” thing, you can read this.
words: 2202. idk what it is with Finn excerpts that i keep posting super long ones.
andromeda ruin wip intro ☆ read the other excerpts here
From the cover of the people around him, Finneas watched as Valyan approached their next target and began to engage in lively conversation with him, paying close attention to the man’s minute actions. Every time the guest started to raise his arm, Finneas anticipated he was removing his dexaComs and got ready to pounce, only to retreat when it turned out he was only adjusting his collar or scratching his temple.
A feeling of unease began to creep over Finneas the longer he waited. And although he was beginning to get impatient, it became increasingly clear that this new feeling had nothing to do with the mission. No, it was a feeling he had learned very quickly to discern during his first few months out on his own after escaping Ghillairde. It was a chill on the back of his neck, the sharp sting of a pair of eyes boring down on him.
He was being watched.
Daring to take his own eyes off Valyan and their victim for a second, he quickly scanned the crowd. Azami and Petra were deep in conversation at the other end of the room and weren’t paying attention to him. No one seemed to be paying attention to him, really, as they were all engrossed in their own conversations or their appetizers or the objects for sale around the room, so why was he—
His gaze locked with Ansel Black’s. A soft “fuck” of surprise escaped his lips.
“Finneas Becker,” Ansel said, his jawline as sharp as ever. “Funny I’d run into you again in my own house.”
The young man had somehow come up next to Finneas while he was focused on Valyan, and now Finneas was trapped. He wore a tailored white suit lined with silver edging that hugged his silhouette and his dark hair was neatly combed back, making him look a lot more like a Councilor’s son than the nervous hoodlum buying stolen goods he was pretending to be when they first met. Finneas might have been tempted to offer a flirtatious greeting, if it weren’t for the Richeport City Police Department badge on his lapel.
“Oh, great. It’s Lief,” he said instead, doing little to hide his disdain.
Ansel tilted his head up in some pathetic attempt to appear tougher, which Finneas didn’t buy for a second from the way he fiddled with the silver buttons on his sleeve. “It’s Ansel, actually.”
The fact that he simply introduced himself by his first name— no last name, no “Officer”— was concerning. “Yeah, I know. What d’you want?”
Ansel shifted his weight and launched into what seemed like a rehearsed speech. “I’ve waited a long time to see you again,” he began, and Finneas had to resist the urge to say that’s gay, dude. “You should be behind bars, and I’m sure attending an extremely high security event like this uninvited will land you there.”
“Oh, but I was invited,” Finneas said with a smug chuckle, pulling out one of the dexaComs Valyan had lent him for the night to project the invitation with his name on it onto his palm.
“It’s a fake,” Ansel challenged. “You did some… criminal magic to make it look real.”
“Just take a look, my dear prince.” Ansel reddened a bit at being called “prince”, and Finneas inwardly chided himself for getting carried away. This is how you got yourself into this situation in the first place, you jackass. “You of all people would know how to recognize your dad’s seal.”
Ansel eyed Finneas, then leaned forward to peer at the seal, and the scent of cologne distilled from pure money wafted off from his shoulders. After a few seconds, he glanced up again, scowling. “I will find something that will get you the justice you deserve,” he swore. “Next time we meet, I’ll get you in handcuffs.”
“Whoa, okay, look,” Finneas said, throwing up his hands. “First of all, I stopped being interested in you the moment I found out you’re a cop. And secondly, we barely know each other. Feels a bit early to get freaky, don’t you think?”
This time, a full blaze took over Ansel’s face. “That’s… that’s not what I was implying,” he sputtered, “and you know it.” Still, Finneas caught the quick movement of Ansel’s eyes down to Finneas’ chest, peeking out from his open blazer, and he didn’t want to know what could possibly be going on in the young cop’s head at that moment.
Oh, no. Azami really wasn’t kidding when she said her brother had an obsession.
He searched the room for the quickest way out. His eyes immediately sought out Petra, who now idly nibbled on a roll alone by the door. A half-assed idea popped into his head, and while he hated it immediately, it was better than spending another minute with Ansel.
"Now, while it was nice to catch up, you’ll have to excuse me," he declared, once again diving into the sea of expensively-clothed bodies around him, praying Ansel wouldn't follow him.
By the time he reached Petra, her appetizer was gone, and she had spotted him as well. She nonchalantly held out her hand, expecting him to place a new pair of devices in her palm.
“I’m gonna ask you a favour,” he hissed instead, “but you’re gonna hate me.”
“I don’t know what you could ask to make me hate you any more,” Petra said, eyeing him. “What is it?”
“Could you pretend to be my possessive girlfriend for a few minutes so that Azami’s brother will leave me alone?”
“What?”
“Just say yes or no before he gets here,” he insisted.
To his relief, Petra swiftly grabbed his hand, shot the approaching Ansel a look that could cut through diamond, and dragged Finneas out of the ballroom with a determined stride. Finneas only dared to glance over his shoulder as they crossed the large doors and caught Ansel’s bewildered face through the crowd.
Weaving their way between guests, Petra led him across the hall and the west foyer to the drawing room. While devoid of people, it was the only way for guests to have access to the washroom, so Azami had suggested using the adjacent library for scanning devices, and that’s where Petra took him. It was only once they had stepped through the doorway and slid the door close behind them did she release his hand.
“Thanks for saving my ass,” Finneas breathed, flexing his fingers, which still stung from the tightness of Petra’s grip. For someone who was notoriously bad at lying, her performance was weirdly convincing, but perhaps her ire was driven by the fact that Ansel was meddling with their mission, and had little to do with any possessiveness Petra might have had over her pilot.
“That one was repayment for the breakfast.” She whirled around to face him, eyebrow raised. “What did you do to make him so obsessed with you, anyways?”
“Nothing,” Finneas defended. He couldn’t resist a smirk. “It’s not my fault I’m a hot bisexual rogue.”
Petra rolled her eyes, and he was impressed with how much restraint she mustered to keep from smacking him, which she clearly wanted to do. “Do you at least have something for us to scan while you’re here?”
Finneas fished into his pocket and pulled out his latest catch. “Where’d Azami go?” he asked as they settled onto one of the plush couches to get started.
Petra pulled her feet up to join her on the couch to sit crossed-legged beside him. “She said something about having spotted her oldest brother August and disappeared.”
“Seems like everyone at this party is trying to avoid the Councilor’s boys.”
Finneas unlocked the dexaComs, then allowed Petra to take over the reigns for the search. The two fell into a comfortable silence, as had become the norm for them over the past couple of weeks. As it turned out, now that they weren’t constantly at each other’s throats, Petra was really easy to simply exist with in the same room. She didn’t require a lot of conversation, which was refreshing for Finneas— despite the outgoing mask he often wore when doing business, he usually preferred his alone time, but he found he didn’t mind so much when she was around. Sometimes, she would let him sit on her bedroom floor and go through her digital books full of wildlife footage to pass the time while she did her tests on the Mohanian plant.
That was kind of what it felt like now, as he watched her fiddle with the two stolen earpieces on the cushion in front of her, scanning them for information. The gold accents lining her jumpsuit and the hem of her train, as well as that headpiece she hated so much, sent little flecks of light around the room like tiny stars, reflections from the chandelier overhead. Azami had been right earlier, Finneas mused. Petra did look like a queen, wearing a crown crafted from the rays of the sun, which framed the soft curls resting on her slender shoulders.
As if sensing he was watching her, she began to glance up, and he quickly averted his eyes to properly survey the room they were in. Next to the door through which they had entered the library, a second door stood ajar, and through the slit a glint of light caught Finneas’ eye.
“Hm, what’s this?” he mused, sauntering over to the doorway.
“What’s what?” Petra asked. Scooping up the earpieces that she had just finished scanning, she followed him as he slipped inside the room— some sort of study— and partially closed the door behind them.
Finneas marched up to an ornate bookshelf and picked up a tiny silver figurine of a slender dragon standing on its hind legs, wings spread out, head reared back, mouth open in a menacing snarl. The Little Dragon, one of the two Stardians of Dracaenos. Finneas couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. Probably one of the relics stolen off Ghillairdan shrines when Sayntagnesia took over his home planet; a trophy from their bloody conquest.
Petra snickered. “Did you really just get distracted by a shiny object?”
“Do you know how much a single one of these is worth?” Finneas said, turning it over, feeling the weight of its value in his hand.
“You’re just like a crow.”
“I have no idea what that is.” He glanced over his shoulder and made sure the library was still empty before swiftly pocketing the object. This was much easier than slipping something out of a guest’s handbag.
“If someone realizes it’s missing...” Petra warned.
“They won’t realize it’s missing. There’s five others like it.”
“Could you maybe focus on one crime at a time, please?”
“Something like this could be helpful to us.”
Petra crossed her arms over her chest. “How so?”
Finneas moved over to a minibar in the corner, admiring the vast collection of bottles from all over the sector lined up on the shelves. He had never been much of a drinker, but he recognized a good quality bottle when he saw it. There was wine from the vineyards in southern Sayntagnesia, ale from Epimerys, a bottle of khopeg from Buhaki Bomi, not to mention an entire row dedicated to Ihanashe’s famously expensive sweet teshigori wine. There was no way the Councilor was ever going to drink all of this, of course. Most of the bottles’ seals remained unbroken, simply there for show. Yet another display of indulgence.
“Say we go out on our next trip,” Finneas said, running his hand along the side of the shelf. “Shit happens, and we end up stranded in space. We could pawn off this thing for credits to survive. It’s probably worth enough to get by for a couple of weeks.”
"And we'll be wanted for both treason and theft."
“Always so optimistic, Lacroye. We’ll be wanted for so much more than that by then.”
He picked out the smallest bottle of teshigori wine with his eyes, one he was certain could remain hidden in the folds of his skirt. As his hand reached towards the shelf, the distinct echo of footsteps approached from the library.
Footsteps accompanied by voices.
Shit.
Normally, Finneas would have been able to conjure up a quick lie about what he was doing in that room—they had gotten lost on their way to the washroom, they needed a quiet place to make an important call—but in that moment, with Petra staring, wide-eyed, at the door, he simply froze.
The voices grew louder.
“...much of an issue, Councilor Black…”
He snapped out of his panic just enough to grab Petra’s hand and yank her behind the minibar. They scrambled to huddle together on the carpet, crammed between the legs of two white stools. Beside him, Petra’s breathing felt so loud, her heartbeat pounding rapidly against Finneas’ palm through her own. He gave her hand a firm squeeze—whether to reassure her or himself, he couldn’t tell.
The figurine dug into his thigh, and he couldn’t help but offer a silent prayer to the Little Dragon for protection.
On the other side of the minibar, the door swung open.
please note that i’ve moved blogs. for more recent updates on this wip you can find me here: @chayscribbles
THE SIXTH LIFE OF GENEVIEVE WARD ➝ a wip by kingswriting
genevieve ward is starting to lose track of the years. after all, how does one keep track of time when it never seems to actually run out? her mind is littered with the skeletons of the ones she’s loved, the ones she will love in the future. her heart aches with the utmost loss of self that comes with being alive for centuries. she’s seen herself be her best, but more than that, she’s seen herself become a monster that she doesn’t recognize. how does one give meaning to their life when their life can see no end?
ask to be added to the tag list!
status: brainstorming/outlining
genre: na gothic romance/fantasy
trigger warnings: physical abuse in romantic relationships, character death
themes: this is just one big soulmate au, found family, pining, protecting those you love even when they don’t really deserve it, a heck of a redemption arc, questioning your own humanity/morality, dual timelines!!
summary:
genevieve ward is a vampire who has drifted up and down the east coast of america for the last two centuries. she’s loved, she’s ached, she’s killed, she’s hurt more people than she can count on every finger. and she’s growing weary; weary of a life that has robbed her of every stitch of humanity left in her unbreathing body. most of the people she’s loved in her life are dead, and more often than not, she wishes she were as well.
dylan soto is a thirty year old detective who is relocating to atlanta, georgia to take on a case that threatens to be the worst atlanta has seen. deep in the throes of an existential crisis, nothing can prepare dylan for what she’s going to see in atlanta. but her desire to find meaning in her life outweighs her anxiety.
genevieve and dylan become intertwined in ways that neither of them are prepared for; the case is a little closer to home than genevieve ever imagined it could be. it doesn’t help that the detective on the case is someone who looks so achingly familiar - she’s seen those eyes before. she’s woken up next to them, she’s peered into them as the very life drained from them. she knows dylan, even though dylan has never seen her a day in her life.
the sixth life of genevieve ward tells the stories of both genevieve and dylan; genevieve’s story from the moment she was turned into a vampire, and dylan’s story as she solves the murders that have shaken the city of atlanta. but their stories are much more involved with each other than one might think.
i recently hit 50K on this draft so i figured it was time to drop another longer excerpt!
for context: the gang has landed on a little-explored alien planet and are trekking through a tropical forest. i needed them to face some sort of Obstacle and was at a bit of a loss as to what they could encounter or how to make the scene exciting, so i grabbed some dice and played a little game of DnD with myself. see if you can spot the dice rolls 😉
(you may also be asking yourself, why is Azami at the top of a cliff? don’t worry about it.)
words: 1540
warnings: brief morbid/graphic description? idk what to call it, it’s like one sentence but better safe than sorry
andromeda rogue wip intro ☆ read the other excerpts here
Valyan only barely managed to register Azami’s screamed warning and leap out of the way of the incoming vine before it could fling itself around their waist. They rolled onto the muddy ground and blindly scrambled away from the vine’s point of origin to take cover behind a boulder at the foot of the cliff.
Petra and Finneas weren't as lucky as them, Valyan realized with dismay, as they peered out from behind the rock to find the plant had taken them captive. Petra desperately held on to her glasses with one hand while the other clutched the vine wrapped around her chest to keep herself from going flying as the plant attempted to toss her against the rocks. Meanwhile, Finneas, dangling by his legs as multiple vines held him up, strained to reach the tool pouch that had somehow gotten entangled in the leaves above him, but only managed to graze the strap with the tips of his fingers.
I can’t just watch helplessly, Valyan thought, gripping the boulder giving them cover. But if they walked back into that clearing to help the others, there were a dozen more vines waiting to snatch them up.
“Petra!” they called. “Is there anything in that nerd brain of yours that might help us defeat this plant?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Petra wailed, struggling to keep her glasses from sliding off her nose as the plant brandished her around. “I did read something about a plant the early explorers called the Strangler that would snatch up potential threats, but they described it as only being about as tall as the average adult, and, um, something about the way it does photosynthesis is special because—”
“I don’t think the way it does photosynthesis is important right now!”
“But that’s all I remember,” Petra whimpered.
“You have to thi—”
Their sentence cut off with a squeal as the plant suddenly lunged at them, stopping just short of their face.
“Lacroye,” Finneas grunted, now hanging limply upside-down to give his core muscles a break. He gestured towards the plant’s thick stalk, at the other edge of the clearing. “What the hell is that weird bowl thing?”
Sure enough, nestled amongst the tangled vines emerging from the ground was a large, burgundy growth shaped like a wide vase, it’s glistening rim curled outwards like puckered rouge-coated lips waiting to be kissed.
Petra squinted at it. “That’s, uh, I think that’s the plant’s flower,” she said. “That's what it’s trying to protect. It also contains incredibly toxic substances that can digest a living thing within minutes, and the remains mix together and gives the plant energy which is what allows it to—oh.”
“Oh?” Valyan repeated, ducking again as the plant once more tried to reach them. “What’s ‘oh’?”
“If we empty the flower of its contents, the plant wouldn’t have any energy left to keep attacking us!”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Finneas demanded. “Drink it?”
He hoisted himself up one more time and made another grab for the leaves above. His fingers finally grasped the tool pouch’s strap, allowing him to fish out a small knife.
“Stab it!” Azami screamed down from the cliff. “Stab it and get out of the way!”
“Great! Only one problem,” he retorted, swinging at the vines with the blade. While he succeeded to slice off a few stray leaves, each and every single one of the vines holding him managed to evade him. “This thing doesn’t seem too eager to let us pass.”
“Could you—” Valyan began, but screeched and ducked as the plant whacked their boulder. “Why does this thing always try to attack me whenever I talk?” they cried. “Does it hate the sound of my voice that much?”
“To be fair,” Petra said amidst futile attempts to pry the vines off her chest, “you are very annoying.”
Valyan perked up, an idea hitting them. “Wait,” they said. “You’re right.”
Without thinking, they leapt back into the clearing, wildly waving their hands over their head.
“Hey!” they yelled at the plant. “Over here!”
“What are you doing?” Petra cried.
“Distracting the plant,” Valyan explained, now jumping frantically to get the plant’s attention.
“It’ll grab you too!”
As expected, a vine flung itself at them. They waited until it was close enough, then hopped out of the way. A loud crack filled the clearing as the vine made a grab for them, and, only meeting air, spiraled back in on itself.
Valyan whirled around to once again face the plant and grinned in defiance. “It sure as hell can try.”
They dove aside to avoid two more vines making swipes. Daring to cast a glance over their shoulder, they were delighted to find that the plant, now more interested in this new, noisy threat, seemed to have loosened its grip on its two prisoners.
But it still wasn’t enough for it to release them.
“Watch out!”
Azami’s shout came mere seconds before a large object came hurtling over the cliff. Valyan ducked at the last minute to avoid the—
They had to do a double take.
Is that a… boot?
They barely had time to recognize the object as the oversized, muddy boot smacked right into the vine holding onto Petra. It jerked back and unravelled, dropping the shrieking Petra. As she plummeted to the ground and landed on her stomach, her glasses slipped off her nose and vanished into the carpet of dead leaves and mud that cushioned her fall.
Moments later, a second boot came flying down. It largely missed the vine that clutched Finneas, and Valyan had to wonder if Azami had done that on purpose.
"Finneas!" Valyan yelled. "Give me the knife so I can stab the flower!"
Abandoning his futile quest to chop off every vine in his vicinity, he blindly tossed it in Valyan’s direction.
It landed several feet away.
Groaning, Valyan pounced on the knife, expertly dodging more swipes from vicious branches. As one grazed the top of their puffy ponytail, they thanked the stars they weren’t any taller. They skidded through the mud to seize the weapon, then whirled around and retreated to the foot of the cliff to catch their breath and figure out their next move.
Even with all their dodging, they mused, ducking once again behind their rock, if they made it to the flower, the vines, with their attention fully focused on them, wouldn’t hesitate to grab them once they stopped moving.
They stole a glance at their sister. The plant largely ignored her as she groped the ground on her hands and knees in search of her glasses.
They let out a sigh. "Petch, you're gonna have to get the knife from me and stab the plant yourself."
“I can't see shit, Valyan,” Petra snapped.
“Just trust me!” Valyan insisted. They slid the knife at her on the floor. It rolled several times through the leaves before coming to a stop, just barely nudging Petra’s knee. As she fumbled to pick it up, Valyan sprung into the clearing, rounding the stalk to the other side of the flower. “Follow my voice!”
Petra scrambled to her feet and, after taking a second to orient herself, made a dash towards the flower, guided by Valyan’s yelling. But as soon as the vines abandoned Petra, they closed in on Valyan. One of them finally seized their wrist. They let out a shriek as it firmly gripped them, nearly cutting off their circulation.
"Val!" Petra screamed as the plant effortlessly lifted them off the ground.
"Keep going," they cried, dangling, struggling to free themselves. “You’re almost there!”
With a determined stride, Petra closed the last few feet to the flower and raised the knife above her head.
“Let go of my sibling,” she screeched, “and give me back my pilot!”
She took a violent hack at the flower.
A thick, brownish green liquid gushed out from the slash in the plant’s fleshy side. Petra managed to dart out of the way just in time for the oozing substance to miss the tip of her boots. Depleted of its fuel, the plant gave a violent shudder, then the vines went limp, their writhing slowly subsiding as they released their prey as they collapsed onto the ground.
The moment their feet touched the ground, Valyan tore off the vine around their wrist and ran to their sister. They leapt over the murky puddle and threw themselves right into Petra’s arms.
“That was badass,” they gushed as Petra tightly gripped them back.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Petra replied with a shaky laugh. “Looks like your talent for being noisy paid off.”
By then, Azami had somehow managed to scramble back down the side of the cliff in her socks and tiptoed over downed vines to join them. Valyan let go of Petra to turn to her, grinning.
“And you,” they said. “That throw? Iconic.”
Azami beamed, and maybe it was from the effort of climbing down a cliff, but Valyan could have sworn that the rose tint on her cheeks was brighter than usual.
From where he was still entangled in the now inert vines on the ground, Finneas loudly cleared his throat. “Um, a little help here, maybe?”
please note that i’ve moved blogs. for more recent updates on this wip you can find me here: @chayscribbles
in celebration of reaching 40K on this draft, here is an excerpt that also includes another little song i wrote for this wip! this is from Finneas’ POV for some reason, but he’s not the star of this scene.
EDIT: i ended up changing the company’s name from “Hiudra” to “Aquadae”, but i’m too lazy to change everything in this post.
words: 936
andromeda rogue wip intro ☆ read the other excerpts here
Masking his annoyance at his failure to sway the security guards, Finneas snaked his way through crowded tables back to the bar, where Valyan had taken a seat on one of the stools and was swinging their legs back and forth, while Petra, still standing, cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Let me guess,” Petra taunted. “Your ‘charm’ didn’t work.”
“We’re gonna need some sort of distraction,” Finneas said, ignoring her. “Anything to get the guards away from that doorway long enough for us to slip past them.”
His eyes scanned the bar in search of ideas. He could instigate a brawl, but then he would have to be able to leave the fight before the guards got there, and he ran the risk of getting hurt. He considered bribing one of the waiters to call the guards to the entrance, but then he remembered he didn’t have any money. Or maybe he could—
“What kind of people come here?” Valyan asked.
“Oh, you know. Smugglers. Traffickers. Ex-convicts. A lot of Hiudra delivery people in between shipments,” Finneas listed off. “Not a lot of tourists, though. It’s a bit too grimy to be a hotspot for vacationers.”
Valyan cocked their head. “Hiudra delivery people, huh,” they echoed, then turned to stare at something at the other side of the room.
Finneas followed their gaze. At the end of the bar was a simple stage bathed in purple light, on which a single microphone stand leaned precariously against the wall.
Petra must have noticed it too, because she groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking exactly what you think I’m thinking.” Valyan grinned and cracked their knuckles. “It’s my time to shine.”
Finneas turned to Petra, bewildered. “What are they thinking?” he demanded.
Before he could even register that Valyan was no longer on the stool, screeching feedback filled the room as they leapt onto the stage and grabbed the mic.
“Hey guys!” they chirped, giving the room a wave. “How’s everyone doing tonight?”
A few of the patrons glanced up, only to return, disinterested, to their drinks. Most people ignored them.
“It’s kinda quiet in here,” Valyan went on over the rowdy chatter. “How about we liven things up with a song, huh? Anyone here know ‘Old Man Greed’? I heard a lot of you work for Hiudra and probably have a lot of pent up rage.”
Aside from a few grunts and murmurs from the crowd, no one seemed to pay attention.
“Whatever they’re trying to do,” Finneas hissed, “I don’t think it’ll work. This seems like a tough crowd to crack.”
“You’d be surprised at what Val can do,” Petra whispered back, anxiously keeping her eyes on the stage.
Unwavering, Valyan began to stomp on the stage with their foot, creating a steady thump, thump, barely audible over the clatter of the bar. They opened their mouth to sing, and the clearest voice Finneas had ever heard rang through the room.
“Oh I have been out in the stars for so long
With no single planet to which i belong
To carry a box for a greedy old man
Who pulls all the strings on his greedy old plan”
A couple of curious heads were now turned towards the stage, intrigued by this tiny kid and the sound they were able to produce from their mouth. Sensing the shift in the room, Valyan launched into the second verse with even more energy.
“I have not seen nor the ground nor the sky
Through ast'roids and warp holes and stardust I fly
And yet at the end of my perilous trip
I'm barely paid to get fuel for my ship”
By now, several more feet joined in the stomping, and fists pounded the tables. Finneas was stunned to see the amount of lips moving around him, singing along, with some even adding harmonies and counter-melodies. Some people at the back of the room even stood up on their chairs to get a better look. By the time Valyan led them into a third verse, not a single pair of eyes was on anything else but them.
“Oh I have a babe on the orb I call home
And while I’m star skippin’ my babe’s all alone
I fear by the time I return to my bed
My babe would have found someone richer instead”
The crowd was getting rowdier by the minute, whooping and yelling and maintaining the beat as Valyan paused between verses to do a little dance. Petra rolled her eyes at her sibling’s antics, but couldn’t resist a smile.
Whirling around to face the crowd after a move, Valyan locked eyes with Finneas across the room and, grinning, gave him a wink.
He glanced at the veiled doorway. Both guards had abandoned their post to keep an eye on the riled up crowd.
“Let’s go,” he hissed, giving Petra’s sleeve a tug, then started towards the doorway. She cast a final look at her sibling before hurrying after him. Making sure the guards weren’t paying attention, he quickly shoved aside the curtain and ducked inside the darkened hallway, holding it up for Petra to pass as well, as the fourth verse filled the bar.
“While I am out here, Old Man Greed’s on his throne
While he’s in his castle I’m out on my own
If I weren’t trying to keep food on my shelf
I’d send Old Man Greed to the slicer myself!”
Finneas let the curtain fall, and the music in the main room was muffled abruptly as the two were plunged into obscurity.
time for some ✨behind the scenes lore✨
i had been trying to figure out how to write this thing for about a month, and then it all came together suddenly while i was in the shower. i was partially inspired by the sea shanty trend, of course, but i was MOSTLY inspired by union work songs like this one.
melody-wise, it kind of ended up being a ~dark~ version of “Fathoms below” from The Little Mermaid lmao, and then i got a little carried away (as i always do) and added counter-melodies because i gotta put my degree in music to SOME use god dammit
in the AR universe, Hiudra (i’m not completely satisfied with the name, i might change it) is the biggest interplanetary shipping company in the sector. think Space Amazon. Hiudra delivery people would have to travel long journeys through space to make deliveries, which were often lonely and sometimes dangerous, only to get paid pennies. “Old Man Greed” refers to the billionaire CEO, of course.
there are three other verses of an alternate version, but those are somewhat spoilery to someone’s backstory, so i won’t be sharing them here.
OOF OKAY thanks for reading all of that! lmk if you want to be added to the taglist 🥰
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please note that i’ve moved blogs. for more recent updates on this wip you can find me here: @chayscribbles
