Against all odds, @adie-dee managed to tag me in this during the approximately two and a half minutes per day I currently feel like interacting, so yay! Also, because I am a cheat free-spirited individual, I am choosing to share my favourite line out of the last scene I wrote, cuz y’know. Self-indulgence and all that.
It’s also like two paragraphs and not a line loooool I’m hopeless.
Raleigh punched him. Short backswing, straight out from the shoulder, whole body behind it; a textbook boxer’s blow, right into Peter’s nose. There was the crunch of collapsing bone and cartilage and Peter stumbled backwards, hands to his face. The only thing that stopped him going to the ground was Axel and Jasper catching him; they stared open-mouthed at Raleigh as blood gushed from between Peter’s fingers.
“I’m getting real sick of you questioning my loyalty,” Raleigh said, shaking out his hand. “Especially considering the amount that I have done for the Brotherhood over the last few months. You wouldn’t have half the accolades you do if it wasn’t for my ‘in’.”
Tagging @kd-holloman @austrohungarianwriteblr @stuffaboutwriting @writeanapocalae and @sybil-writes if you wanna do it! (No pressure! ^_^)
Content Warnings: drug use/addiction | violence | abuse | character death/s | potential suicidal ideation | (all excerpts will be marked)
Synopsis:
Raleigh Lukas’s life is privileged, predictable, and placid. As a member of the Church, he knows exactly what comes next; he’ll finish college, marry his girlfriend, Kennedy, and have kids. Probably a few of them, to satisfy the Church’s requirements that the true humans increase their numbers.
Dash is homeless, hopeless, and haunted by his past. He’d be happy to just numb himself with drugs and let life pass him by, except that his friend-with-benefits Alec is obsessed with the Partners, an underground movement that supports the brainbent - humans born with extraordinary mental abilities. Whilst most of the brainbent are imprisoned, in hiding, or dead, a small handful work alongside sympathetic humans to overthrow the Church’s stranglehold on the upper echelons of society.
A chance meeting of these two very different lives leads to a tentative friendship that is challenged by the arrival of someone claiming to be the nigh-mythical Dantalion - a figure of brainbent legend, said to be powerful enough to turn the tide of the nascent resistance. It’s a bold claim, and one that Dash dismisses with a certainty that only makes Raleigh more curious about his mysterious past.
As tensions rise Raleigh finds himself in the middle of a struggle he didn’t want any part of - drawn on one side to his family, friends, and blind belief, and on the other to a movement with principles that just keep making more and more sense - and the broken addict who makes him question everything he thought he knew.
Criminally expository excerpt under the cut. Brief character intro masterpost to follow.
[Excerpt]
“So what’s a Dantalion?”
Dash snorted. “It’s nothing. It’s a myth.”
“Well, tell me the myth then. I’ve heard you and Alec talking about it…” Raleigh trailed off as Dash cut his eyes to him. He felt heat start to spread across his cheekbones. “Sorry.”
Dash huffed, shifting a little against the wall. “S’alright. Doubt you’re gonna overhear anything worse than what you already have.” He quirked an eyebrow at him, just slightly, and Raleigh felt the heat in his face intensify. “Thought you would’ve learned not to eavesdrop.”
“It wasn’t on purpose!” The protest was probably a little too strident; Raleigh looked down in the vain hope of hiding his embarrassment.
Dash just chuckled, leaning forward to swipe his cigarettes off the table. “You really wanna know?”
Raleigh nodded, looking back at him. “I’m curious.”
“Alright then.” Dash paused, took a long drag, then nodded slightly. “So, I know that your cult has been feeding you lies for your entire life, but to really understand, you have to realise that that’s what they are – lies. The vast majority of people that are brainbent, as you put it, are telekinetic, prophecisors, or empaths. Telepaths are exceedingly rare, and manips – short for manipulators, those who can control minds – are even rarer. It’s statistically probable that you’ll go through your entire life without ever meeting a telepath, let alone a manip.” He glanced down as he tapped ash off the end of his cigarette. “Even if you live a life like me, where you’re not actively avoiding them.
“So not only are manips rare, but for most of the ones that do exist, their abilities have been insanely overblown. Even the term ‘manipulator’ is a bit of a misnomer; they don’t so much overtly manipulate as kinda nudge you in a certain direction. Like, if you were on a train, a manip could get you to get off at any station they chose, but they wouldn’t be able to get you on the train in the first place, not unless you were already planning to do it. As far as getting you to kill yourself or something drastic, it’s completely out of the question. A manip could come in here and tell you to go jump off a cliff, but you wouldn’t do it. It’s more like influencing, not outright control.”
“For most of them.” Raleigh hadn’t missed that little tidbit.
The corner of Dash’s mouth quirked up. “For most of them. There are manips that are more powerful. That’s where most of your stories come from. Those manips can – or could – get you to do whatever they wanted. Your classic mind control, if you like. They say walk, you walk. They say jump, you jump. They say go stand in front of that train…” He shrugged, taking another drag. “You’re a stain on the tracks.
“Now, two of these… Coercers, they were called, were really well known during the War. Married couple, Michael and Sarah Johns. They had a child together. Mind manipulation is actually a recessive trait, same as telepathy – that’s part of the reason they’re so rare. No matter what your cult may have you believe, the brainbent really aren’t that big on eugenics, so it wasn’t like telepaths only married telepaths or whatever. The fact that Michael and Sarah were together was mostly just luck – they just happened to both be Coercers. I assume you know how genetics work?”
Raleigh frowned a little, trying to recall his high school biology classes. “For a recessive trait to be present in the child, it has to be present in both parents, right?”
“Right. Like blue eyes.” Dash grinned, tilting his head so his eyes caught the light. Raleigh had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself reacting. They really were very blue. “And if the parent has one dominant allele and one recessive, they’ll exhibit the dominant trait – I could’ve had one parent with brown eyes and still ended up with blue. You need two recessive alleles to exhibit the recessive trait.
“Upshot being, the kid was gonna be a Coercer. If one of the parents had been telekinetic, there was a chance it wouldn’t happen, but it was guaranteed with two Coercer parents.
“Anyway, Sarah and Michael were killed towards the end of the War. I don’t really know the details, just that it was a bomb. Blew up the whole building. And this is where the myth comes in – some people, especially a lot of the Partners, believe that the kid survived. They think he was taken in by some fundie family, and raised without knowing about his past. So they think that kid’s out there, either unaware of who he is and his abilities, or hiding for whatever reason. They wanna find him, get him onside, use him as a weapon or whatever.” Dash shrugged again, carefully crushing his cigarette out on the floor beside him.
Raleigh waited a few moments, but it seemed although that was the end of the story. He cocked his head to the side a little, narrowing his eyes in thought. “But, then… isn’t it possible? That he is actually alive, I mean?”
Dash arched an eyebrow at him. “You tell me. You think a fundie family would be willing to take in some brainbent trash? What for?”
Raleigh shifted uncomfortably. If Dash really wasn’t aware of this, being the person to enlighten him wasn’t a pleasant prospect. “Well… I mean, um, I heard, or I know, that after the War, instead of sending young kids to prison, there was a program, which had families take them in, foster them basically, in the hope that they could be… re-educated, I guess, that being raised in the- in a different environment might help to, y’know… suppress the… abilities, I guess.”
Dash’s gaze was steady, a smirk playing over his lips. “Oh yeah? And how’d that work out?”
“Well… not great, from what I’ve heard. They discovered it was, uh, more innate than they originally thought. Weren’t able to stop the, uh, abilities from manifesting.”
“Exactly.” Dash leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. “So, if the kid survived – and, recall, that requires him to either a, survive a bombing that killed his parents, or two, be forcibly taken away from his parents, both of whom could control fucking minds – he’d be in Carcerum. I mean, I’m of the opinion that he died with his parents, but hell, what would I know?” He sat back again, rolling his eyes a little.
When he put it like that, Raleigh had to admit that it seemed improbable at best. And he was right; even if, by some miracle, the child had survived the murder of his parents, odds were that he’d just ended up imprisoned.
“So then, why do so many people believe that he’s out there?” he said eventually.
Dash shrugged, nonchalant. “Why do people believe in God? They’ve gotta have faith in something, no matter how improbable.”
Raleigh winced, but only a little. He was getting more accustomed to Dash’s lack of faith and casual blasphemy, but comparing some brainbent myth to God was still a little disconcerting.
Rolling the story over in his head again, another question occurred to him. “So why’s he called Dantalion? Was that his name, or…?”
A small line appeared between Dash’s eyebrows. “I actually have no idea. I don’t even know if the kid was a boy or a girl, actually – I don’t think there’s any proof either way, it was Wartime and not a lot of stuff got documented.” He raised a hand to his mouth, chewing on a nail as he thought. “Most likely it’s just a name someone invented and it caught on. I mean, it’s a bit too perfect, isn’t it? A demon against the followers of God, and he ‘reaches in and changes the thoughts of everyone’ or whatever it is.”
“‘For he knoweth the thoughts of all men and women, and can change them at his will’,” Raleigh murmured. For some reason that line had stuck in his head; it was part of what had made him so curious about Dantalion in the first place.
Dash raised an eyebrow at him. “Done your research, huh?”
Raleigh glanced down. “I looked it up after I heard Alec mention it the first time. It made an impression.”
Dash snorted again, stretching his arms out in front of him and then rolling to his feet. “Well, now you know. Don’t worry about it too much. It’s a myth. It helps some of the Partners get through their day. That’s all there is to it.” He stretched a hand down to Raleigh. “C’mon, let’s go get something to eat.”
|| it’s lonely where you are / come back down / and i won’t tell em your name ||
[WIP: Hellbent]
Words: 1380
POV: Raleigh
Content Warnings: vague allusion to drug use | cursing, always
Context: Raleigh meets Dash for the first time
Notes: basically the last half of the chapter one I finally wrote. The first half is setup and doubles the wordcount so eh. However! I do like a lot of this. So. Enjoy!
***
"Try the drawers."
Raleigh yelped and spun, his light swirling around the room as he frantically searched for the source of the voice. His heart felt like it was going to break out of his chest, the warm flush of adrenaline surging through his limbs, breath coming in panicked hiccups as he wondered if he'd somehow imagined-
There. A figure, sprawled in the corner nearly opposite the door by the low table. Raleigh wasn't sure how he'd missed him, even with the dark clothing.
He managed to steady his hand enough to get a good look at him, too breathless to say anything yet.
His eyes were blue. It was a weird thing for Raleigh to notice, but they were vivid even in the low light, their colour so intense they hardly seemed real.
The second thing Raleigh noticed was his smirk.
That actually served to calm him down a little, and he set his jaw. He stepped forward in order to throw more light on the stranger.
"Oh, okay," he said, managing to keep his voice steady despite the fact his heart was still banging against his ribcage. "I get it. Is this Peter's idea of a joke?"
The stranger narrowed his eyes, raising a hand to block the light. "Who the hell is- wait. You think I'm fucking working with you fundie dicks? The fuck gave you that impression?"
Raleigh had to fight not to splutter. Between the cursing, the casual use of the insult for Members, and the denial of being in on the test, his nervousness was abruptly back full force.
The smirk on the stranger's face intensified. "Take your time. And get that fucking light out of my face."
Raleigh lowered his phone without thinking, still struggling to come up with an appropriate course of action. Just ignoring the stranger was probably the best one, though it didn't account for the curiosity he could feel starting to creep through the shock.
"But- then, why'd you tell me to look in the drawer?" he said before he could help himself.
The stranger leaned forward; Raleigh flinched as there was a slight hissing and a couple of clicks and then light flooded the room. He blinked in the relative brightness; the guy had lit some sort of lantern that was sitting on the low table.
Raleigh glanced over his shoulder at the window, wondering what the guys outside would make of the sudden light.
"Relax, Pretty Boy." The voice and the form of address made Raleigh look back quickly, narrowing his eyes in disapproval. The stranger didn't seem to care. "They'll just think you found it and lit it yourself. You'll probably end up getting extra points for ingenuity."
The curiosity surged to the forefront again. "What- how do you know so much about this? I mean, you're obviously not a Member..."
"Obviously." He seemed pleased by that, smirking again. Raleigh waited, but he didn't elaborate.
"So then how-"
"Because once a year, every year, you fucks come tramping all through my house on some moronic fucking induction assignment, and I've kinda been forced to observe what it involves." The stranger leaned over to the table once more, swiping up something that Raleigh only identified as a packet of cigarettes when he removed one. "So like I said. Try the drawers. I recommend the bottom one." He winked.
Raleigh stared at him for a beat. He was pretty good at keeping a straight face, if he didn't say so himself, but that was under normal circumstances. Listening to someone refer to the induction process of one of the most prestigious organisations within the Church as moronic was not normal circumstances. He was dimly aware that his mouth was open.
The stranger lit the cigarette and then looked back at Raleigh. He arched a single eyebrow, blowing out a lungful of smoke. "Problem?"
Many and varied. All Raleigh said was, "This is your house?"
The smirk returned. "I live here. That makes it mine, doesn't it?"
"You live here?"
"Contrary to what your cult might be telling you, opportunities for those that don't subscribe to your insane beliefs are fucking few and far between. Needs must."
Raleigh snapped his mouth shut at the word cult, his anger only building as the guy kept talking. He whirled around, stalking back over to the vanity. He wasn't even going to dignify that with a response.
"Ah, I've upset you. Sorry, Pretty Boy. Just calling it like I see it."
That name again. Raleigh opened the bottom drawer with unnecessary force. Despite the stranger's confidence, he was still somewhat surprised to see the coil of rope.
He snatched it out of the drawer and turned on his heel, planning to march straight out of the room and not even hesitate until he reached Jasper and the others outside.
He made it three steps before he stopped, looking back to the blue-eyed stranger in the corner.
"Thanks," he said stiffly.
The stranger's head jerked up. Raleigh's course towards the door had brought him closer than he had been, and their eyes met.
"No problem," the stranger said, almost cautiously.
He was genuinely surprised to have been thanked, Raleigh realised. He wondered how many times the guy had done this; helped out Brotherhood Inductees, allowing them to complete their first assignment quickly and efficiently, and if any of them had acknowledged the assistance. Probably not, if he'd spoken to them the same way he'd spoken to Raleigh.
His curiosity won out once more and he took a small step closer.
"You really live here?" he said. "I mean, like all the time?"
The stranger shrugged, then looked away as he ashed his cigarette straight onto the floor beside him. "Rent's cheap."
From here Raleigh could get a better look at him. He had dark hair and the shadow of a couple days' stubble; it highlighted his cheekbones and his jawline, which were already pronounced thanks to the skinniness of his face. He was wearing a hunter green jacket, the sheepskin lining visible where the collar was turned down.
Abruptly he cut his eyes back to Raleigh. "You a student?"
Raleigh blinked, startled. "Uh, yeah. Second year. I'm studying psychology."
That got him another eyebrow raise. "Wasn't aware they offered anything other than theology."
Raleigh shrugged, unable to stop the automatic defensiveness from bleeding into his voice. "I've been studying theology my entire life. Maybe I'd like to broaden my horizons. And, y'know." He couldn't stop his eyes flickering away. "Help people."
The stranger's gaze was like a physical weight, and Raleigh shifted underneath it. In the back of his mind he knew he should get out of there, hurry up and get back to the others, but he couldn't quite convince his feet to move.
"Good for you, Pretty Boy," the stranger finally said. There wasn't any sarcasm or scorn or disbelief in his voice, and when Raleigh looked at him even his face looked genuine. He stubbed out his cigarette, continuing without looking back at Raleigh. "You ever wanna broaden your horizons to include those outside of your little cult's bubble, feel free to drop by."
Raleigh scowled at him, any charitable feelings he might have been starting to develop evaporating. He shifted the rope on his shoulder, lifting his chin a little.
"I doubt that'll be necessary. Thanks again for your help."
The stranger smiled, pulling something from his jacket pocket. "Sure."
Raleigh started back to the door, trying to ignore the rattle of whatever it was the guy was doing. But his steps slowed as he approached the doorway, before he found himself turning back once again.
"Um," he said eloquently.
The stranger looked up from where he was tipping something into his palm. "Forget something?"
"It's just..." Raleigh had to force himself not to shift his weight. "I'm Raleigh. Just to- just so you don't have to call me... anything else."
The grin the stranger gave him was borderline dazzling. He threw whatever it was in his palm into his mouth and swallowed it down with a mouthful from a bottle he produced from nowhere.
"Good to know, Pretty Boy," he said. "I'm Dash.”
***
Taglist (just ask to be added/removed): @adie-dee @bogbodybitch
|| it’s a beautiful sound and my life comes crashing down / that ain’t so obvious / it’s a beautiful sin and im doing it again ||
WIP: Hellbent
Words: 530
POV: Raleigh
Content Warnings: swearing
Notes: This snippet actually contains three spoilers: I’ve managed to edit around the biggest one, another is pretty obvious given, well, everything, and the third is a major one but I have no self control and I cannot help myself. Have fun. ^_^
Context: Raleigh’s dating Kennedy. Raleigh and Dash are caught during their first kiss.
***
“Oh. My. God.”
It took Raleigh until the third word to process the voice. Dash had clocked it much faster; he’d already whipped his head around, dislodging Raleigh’s hand from his hair, staring intently at the new arrival.
Raleigh ran his fingers along his jaw, with just enough pressure to force his face back towards him.
“Easy,” he said, firm but warm.
Dash’s teeth caught his bottom lip. Raleigh saw his reluctance, wariness and fear in his gaze, but he nodded once.
Raleigh released him and stepped away, towards the willowy figure by the edge of the porch.
“Kennedy, I can—”
“Shh!” she snapped, glancing behind her, back towards the lights of the main house. “Peter and his crew just rocked up. You’re bloody lucky I convinced them to let me come find you.”
Raleigh gaped at her. “I’m… what?”
She gave him an affectionate, if somewhat indulgent, smile. “Honey, trust me, no girl could be with you for longer than a month and not figure it out.” She glanced over his shoulder, apparently at Dash. “Though you are a surprise. I always figured there was something going on with Jasper.”
Dash snorted. “Oh come on, I’m way hotter than Jasper.”
Kennedy tilted her head a little. “Mmm, it’s pretty close. Though maybe if you lost the homeless, strung-out-meth-addict aesthetic.”
Raleigh was speechless. He wondered if he was asleep. Or on drugs. Or maybe he’d tripped and hit his head and he was in a coma. Or he’d fallen through a wormhole into some insane alternate reality. Any one of those scenarios would’ve been easier to wrap his head around.
He felt Dash step up behind him, jumped as his lips brushed the skin just below his ear. “You seem to have blown Pretty Boy’s mind.”
“I’m not surprised. Though I didn’t think you’d take it so easily in stride.”
“You live like I do and you learn not to question an ally, however unexpected.”
“Okay, stop.” Raleigh’s voice came out a little close to hysterical. He cleared his throat, swallowed. Swallowed again. “What the fuck is going on?”
Dash gave a low chuckle right beside his ear, and he had to quell the insane urge to swing around and kiss him again.
“Right now, you’re going up to the house for your Brotherhood meeting and pretending everything is completely and utterly normal,” Kennedy said. “Which is going to require you to stop breathing in his ear, whatsyourname. He currently looks like he’s seen a ghost.”
“His name’s Dash,” Raleigh said quickly, not wanting their sniping to start up again. “And could you please stop talking about me like I’m not here?”
Kennedy swept her bangs to the side, glancing back at the house again. “Sorry, Ra,” she said. “But you’ve timed this whole thing very badly. I’ll give you the whole rundown at another time. The quick and dirty is that I’m a Partner, I have been for a long time, and I suspected you were sympathetic even if you hadn’t admitted it to yourself. Right now you need to shake off the shock, pull yourself together, and come with me up to the house for the meeting.”
Taglist (just ask to be added/removed): @adie-dee @bogbodybitch
|| could it be that everything goes round by chance / or only one way it was always meant to be ||
WIP: Hellbent
Words: 1127
POV: Raleigh
Content Warnings: discussion of drug use, addiction | swearing
Context: This is approximately chapter three, maybe. Raleigh and Dash’s second meeting, commencing after Alec has left.
Notes: You’re missing the first half of the scene, involving Raleigh meeting Alec and (more or less) figuring out he (Alec) is a Partner. I may post that bit at some point but I’m not hugely happy with it right at the moment, so have this instead. :D
***
Dash grinned again, then stepped over and sprawled out in the corner. He waved a hand. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Raleigh wasn’t really sure that was possible. There was nothing in the room he could use as a seat; after a moment of deliberation, he moved over and folded himself onto the floor a couple of feet from Dash, crossing his legs. He had a sudden, intense flashback to primary school – which he was fairly sure was the last time he’d sat cross-legged on the floor – before Dash’s voice distracted him.
“I didn’t actually think you’d take me up on my invitation.”
Raleigh carefully folded his hands in his lap, determined not to fidget. “Why not?”
Dash tilted his head, his eyes catching the light that filtered through the window. Raleigh forced himself to blink before his looking at them could be considered a stare.
“Prejudice, I guess,” Dash said. “I just assumed no fundie would ever actually want to know about the commoners.”
Raleigh sucked in a deep breath, but his voice still came out a little tight. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop using that word.”
Dash blinked, clearly thrown. “What- oh, fundie? Sorry, I forgot that your lot considers that an insult.”
“It’s flippant and disrespectful, is all.”
“Well, there you go, you’ve hit on my two major personality traits. You are good at this whole shrink business.”
Raleigh stared at him. “Is- are all of the non-Members like you?”
That made Dash laugh; the sound was unrestrained and delighted, as if Raleigh had told a particularly good joke. “They are not, thank fuck. They’re not all like Alec, either. In fact, if you really study them, you’ll probably find a decent spread of personalities, not unlike what you’d find within your cult.”
Raleigh chose to ignore the last bit, seizing on the mention of Alec to ask the question that was most bothering him presently. “He’s a Partner, though, right? Alec, I mean?”
Dash’s grin faded; he looked away, stubbing out his cigarette as though as an excuse. “Is that a problem?
”“Depends, I guess.” Raleigh hesitated. “Are you?”
Dash snorted, the most derisive sound Raleigh had ever heard. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t believe in the same bullshit they do.” Dash reached into his jacket, the pill bottle rattling as he withdrew it. His face was hard. “Change the subject, Pretty Boy.”
Raleigh had to swallow before he could speak; Dash’s tone and the flatness of his eyes made his anxiety spike. Though at least there was an obvious topic to grab on to. “Are you sick?”
Dash looked up from where he was counting pills into his hand, his eyebrows tugging together. Raleigh raised his at his confusion, nodding his head towards the pills; Dash looked down and huffed some air out his nose in an almost laugh.
“No,” he said. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” He snapped the lid back onto the bottle and tossed it at Raleigh.
Raleigh fumbled, unprepared, but managed to keep the small orange container in his hands. He turned it over to read the label.
OXYCODONE 10MG
He could feel his brow furrow as he looked for the name: AIDEN SMITH.
“Your name’s Aiden?” He looked up to see Dash take a mouthful from a water bottle; he was smiling as he lowered it. “Where does Dash come from then?”
“My name’s not Aiden.”
Raleigh frowned down at the label again. “But-”
It hit him with a kind of dawning dismay, his eyes wide when he looked back up at Dash. “You stole these?”
“I did nothing of the sort. I paid for them. Fucking well, too.” He clicked his fingers, gesturing. “Gimme. You look like you’re considering tossing them.”
Raleigh was. The only reason he threw them back was because he didn’t know the house well enough to know where to dispose of them. “So, what? You just use them to get high?”
“That’s the aim, yeah,” Dash said, stowing the bottle back in his pocket. “’Course, I’m addicted, so it doesn’t always do much more than level me out, but…” He shrugged.
Raleigh was speechless for a moment. Of course, he knew academically the functions of addiction, but it was kind of unsettling to hear someone talk about it so candidly and unashamedly.
“I- is that why you’re homeless? I mean…” He felt heat suffuse his face. Trust him to stick his foot in his mouth. “Um, I mean, why you- why you’re here, and not-”
“Relax, Pretty Boy.” When Raleigh chanced a glance at him Dash was grinning, apparently unoffended. “Living in a condemned building definitely fits the definition of homeless.” He paused; his smile faltered then disappeared. “The oxy isn’t why. Other way around, actually.”
Raleigh frowned. “The homelessness caused the addiction?”
Dash blew out a sigh. “Something like that.”
They lapsed into silence. Raleigh was still struggling to wrap his head around the whole thing. Sure, he’d thought it would be educational to expose himself to someone new, someone outside of his usual comfort zone, but he hadn’t expected to stumble upon a homeless addict with a friend in the Partners. It was all a bit much to absorb.
“Enough about me.” Dash reached for his cigarettes, tapping one out of the packet. “Tell me about you.”
Raleigh raised his eyebrows. “What do you want to know about me?”
Dash contemplated this as he took a drag. “Why d’you wanna join the Brotherhood?”
That should be an easy answer, and Raleigh had a standard response he pulled out whenever the subject came up. But Dash’s brutal honesty stayed him; somehow he felt he should return the favour. He twisted his hands together in his lap.
“I… I mean, it’s stupid,” he said finally, keeping his eyes fixed on his fingers. “But I- I feel like it’s my only opportunity to get out of the shadow of my father. Like, doing something significant for the Brotherhood would be the only way to give myself a- a distinct identity within the Church.”
He winced a little as he raised his eyes, but Dash’s face hadn’t changed. He still looked thoughtful, flicking his cigarette absently at his side.
“What’s your last name?”
“Lukas. My father’s-”
“The Bishop.” Dash sucked in a breath. “That is rough. And explains why you got so defensive about studying psych.”
The things this commoner kept pulling out were gonna give Raleigh a headache. Once again he was left speechless, staring at Dash in incomprehension.
“What-” he finally managed. “How do- I- I didn’t think the identities of the Clergy were common knowledge outside of the Church.”
The corner of Dash’s mouth quirked up. “Come on, Pretty Boy. You haven’t yet worked out just how uncommon I am?”
Just wrote Raleigh's 'first' kiss, which I've had plotted for weeks and been actively planning for days, and I'm like 'mm-hmm yes. I like it. I like it a lot'.
Wherein our hapless Raleigh has just committed a Huge Betrayal and thought he'd gotten away with it.
[Raleigh] wasn't sure what it was; a sound, a flash of movement, an itching sensation at the back of his neck. But as he tried to mentally prepare himself to share in Jasper's triumph, something caught his attention.
He glanced over his shoulder into ice-blue eyes.
Raleigh's stomach plummeted and his mouth went bone-dry.
Dash was less than ten feet away, half-concealed behind a monument. He still looked sick, pale; they were close enough that Raleigh could see the sweat beading in his eyebrows, the tremors rocking his body. But his eyes were alert - cold, hard and flat, speaking volumes without him needing to utter a word.
He'd seen everything.
Raleigh tried to swallow and it stuck in his throat, choking him. He could only offer a desperate, pathetic noise of apology and shame.
Dash's eyes never left his. He shook his head, barely, the slightest tilt from side to side, and a crack opened in his stone-cold facade; just enough for Raleigh to see a deep and disappointed betrayal.
It was like a punch to the chest. Raleigh's voice caught in his throat again, fracturing into what could've been a sob.
