exsiliumlogs | slip of the tongue

Date & Time: 2/28 dayish
Location: miles north of the hold and such
Characters: Bariyan and Marty
Summary: PATERNAL INSTINCTS?? PLAIN OL' GUILT? whatever it is it's making this dead dude sniff out this kiddo
Warnings: Fightytimes and scarytimes

The tempering stones sparked uselessly for their second appearance in a row, but Martin had less time to reflect and be disappointed than before. No time, actually, not with those...things hot on his tail. Whatever they were, monster or not, they were strong. Not the sort of thing Martin would suspect any of his cousins to take on their own...hardly the sort he'd stand up to alone, either. That was for sure.

I said I'd come and kill them all, he thought despairingly, ducking behind another sickly, thick-bodied tree and dropping to a crouch, head down and panting. If I can't kill even one, then...Then what good was he, really? Maybe that'd be proof enough he was really not cut out for...for whatever it was this place wanted him for. Maybe this is all a big test.

The further away from the crumbled and ruined cities Martin ran, the fewer encounters he had. All the better. He ought to conserve his energy for returning straight to the Hold, where Martin (big Martin), Bariyan, Eliot, Nik and all the others were. Keeping the scourge burning in the palm of his hand from getting out of control was important – the blacker it got, the less he could conjure. So if I don't have to conjure anything for another three hours...

After waiting for the sound of...of anything and hearing little and less, Martin slid to sit at the roots, letting himself catch his breath. He winced before he could sit all the way, having to sit up and pull the netbook out of the back of his pants (a satchel would really have helped...) before plopping on the ground.

He took a few steadying breaths. Skirting away from the towns and broken cities, yes...He could do that. Veer a little, but always have eyes for the south. He might be a little late, but...but it was better than being a lot dead.

I have to at least try...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bariyan watched Martin fold up and felt a twinge of anxiety. He stepped back out of the car and walked around until he was in front of Martin. The height difference was too much, so he knelt down in the dust, right arm crossed over a knee, and looked at Martin through lidded eyes.

He didn't know what to say. His apologies were already made, short as they were, and the damage was done. And he couldn't lie and say that it was all going to turn out all right. Couldn't even say that it wouldn't turn out bad. In the end, there was not much to say at all.

So Bariyan simply tilted his head to the side and spoke a single, quiet word. "Hey."

Martin's shoulders lifted and dropped slowly with a heavily-drawn, steadying breath before he lifted his head to look. His forehead was knitted with the effort it was taking to keep it together, red lining the rims of his eyes. Weak.

He swallowed, staring back at Bariyan with a look that steadily became more questioning than worrying, and his frown receded to something softer, less pronounced.

"Why--" He stopped to clear his throat and draw another breath. "Why'd you come to find me?"

That was a question that had been asked of him time and time again. He could no longer count how many times he had answered it, or all the various iterations that he'd heard. But the answer always remained the same.

"Because someone had to," Bariyan said.

Because I had to. Because he always had to, that was what he did, who he was. Bariyan e Kodhi had been called guardian in one lifetime, sentinel in another, but it all came down to the same idea: that he had no purpose in life but to save those whom could not save themselves. Always had been, always would be. Alive or dead.

No they didn't, Martin thought, swallowing again, eyes welling. No one had to. So...

"Yes, sir," he murmured, giving up on fighting it before he'd even started. There'd been enough trouble and things to worry about as it was. He scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve and gave a small nod.

"Th...thank you."

Bariyan looked away when Martin went to dry his eyes, out of politeness. He only gave a small nod to acknowledge the thanks.

That done, Bariyan stood up and looked back down the road. The way ahead was blocked. So their only option was to head back down.

"You ready to go?" He offered a hand to Martin.

"Yes, sir," he replied. Impulse. He let out his breath heavily before starting to move. Shifted to his knees, he gave a double-take at the hand, having not seen it right away. After a hesitation, he reached out and took it, shoulders lifting against the shudder that shot down his spine at the act. He's not bad, he insisted, as if that would make it stop.

"Let's go, then." Bariyan pulled Martin up to his feet in one quick, fluid motion, and gently nudged him back towards the truck.

Bariyan paused on the walk back to his side to observe the damage they'd done to the road here. And to examine his broken fingers again. Driving was going to be more difficult, but if they kept to relatively easy terrain he thought he could manage.

He sighed and set his mouth into a hard line. If they were going to be in this world for long, he'd have to do a better job than this.

The frown had disappeared from his face by the time he swung back into the driver's seat. Time to leave this place behind.

slip of the tongue

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omg NO MARTIN BABY DONT CRY

DOESN'T FIT INTO THE BIG BOY PANTS YET

GOD HES SUCH A CUTE BABY, PUTS HIM IN A STROLLER