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Feb. 22nd, 2010 03:29 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
sl4irl.livejournal.comAnother day, another duty.
In fact, things had been quiet lately. Just the silent seeping of cold liquid dread blazing through everything. It was the opposite of how things had always been before: in the Jaunt they had been constantly on the offensive, new targets appearing almost every week. Stake-out, scouting, assault. A grind of assailing location after location. Never defending, always on the move. "Our war works like a bicycle." If you didn't entrench your camp they could never stage a counter-attack without tracing your trail. Those things were easy enough to kill in the Mundane, leave alone in the Hedge. You moved, you acted, you moved on. You'd cease when you were dead, you'd leave as soon as they were dead. It involved a grip of the gut every time, but you didn't have to wait.
Well, things had changed.
Now he was having to adjust to the backfoot. With someone who'd settled down being his focus. Not that she'd really wanted to stay his focus, but neither of them had really had a whole lot of choice in the matter. Perhaps she didn't have much choice in not fleeing, but whatever: they stayed in Essex. They stayed if it killed them. & that was an arrangement 127 Changelings were happy enough with. There'd be less than that many by the end of it, but Fort Sod would run out of soldiers before the navy did.
But today he could forget about it. Today the odds, the arrangment, were closer to things he was used to. A loyalist hiding out here, defending himself in this way, go get him. Crystal had done her best to complicate things, flaffing about "A Plan" (the kind of time wasting exercise which generated edifices which would dissolve upon contact with the actual situation in a messy matter of seconds). Aline became involved. Aline the Dawn Courtier from Scotland who thought that killing Traitors was some strain of sin. He'd just have to make sure that she had no say in the matter.
The incompetence of Summer made him wince, as it always had done. The Iron Season's finest being ejected from the bar was followed by one of them walking face first into a window. A room full of children that they'd presumed were already clear got in their way, ad hoc interrogations staged to find their master. Their fear made for a dainty feast. Then Drago was in the room & impaling the bat-Traitor with icy spikes. Grips took him & punches reigned down.
A beating wouldn't really suffice though, would it?
The javelin struck him between the shoulders. He'd been careful not to hit one of the Free Lost, but no one seemed appreciative. He was fairly certain that that would suffice but you confirm kills, you confirm kills. Another split his head open. The corpse was dropped. He retrieved his weapons & glanced at the teens being sheparded from the room. They'd been concern about them, but he was happy enough ensuring that they'd be no more. They'd be no more. A Hedge-gate was flicked open, he tossed the body through; giving a nod to the rest of the company then following through.
& then they were alone.
Red had told him very strictly that she wouldn't live with a cannibal. & then the other day that she wasn't going to live with him. That was for certain, she'd told him. No way around it, things had seemed like. Perhaps it was just stress, he'd tell himself at other times, but at that moment he was unconvinced. Despite all his best efforts, she was abandoning him. Well then. To the victor, the spoils.
***
Aline had finished singing. The pub was still throbbing with admiration. Her eyes though, her eyes were something he'd seen before. He'd seen it a few times today, in fact, & a few times in the mirror further back. Things started to pull apart when placed under that kind of pressure. It was something he'd seen before, before. Just shattered & broke down, pieces floating off helplessly. Aimlessly, no longer connected. You weren't diminished, just the parts of you ended up sort of...unrelated.
'Thanks Aline. Wouldn't have worked out without you.'
She didn't appreciate his words. He didn't mind.
In fact, things had been quiet lately. Just the silent seeping of cold liquid dread blazing through everything. It was the opposite of how things had always been before: in the Jaunt they had been constantly on the offensive, new targets appearing almost every week. Stake-out, scouting, assault. A grind of assailing location after location. Never defending, always on the move. "Our war works like a bicycle." If you didn't entrench your camp they could never stage a counter-attack without tracing your trail. Those things were easy enough to kill in the Mundane, leave alone in the Hedge. You moved, you acted, you moved on. You'd cease when you were dead, you'd leave as soon as they were dead. It involved a grip of the gut every time, but you didn't have to wait.
Well, things had changed.
Now he was having to adjust to the backfoot. With someone who'd settled down being his focus. Not that she'd really wanted to stay his focus, but neither of them had really had a whole lot of choice in the matter. Perhaps she didn't have much choice in not fleeing, but whatever: they stayed in Essex. They stayed if it killed them. & that was an arrangement 127 Changelings were happy enough with. There'd be less than that many by the end of it, but Fort Sod would run out of soldiers before the navy did.
But today he could forget about it. Today the odds, the arrangment, were closer to things he was used to. A loyalist hiding out here, defending himself in this way, go get him. Crystal had done her best to complicate things, flaffing about "A Plan" (the kind of time wasting exercise which generated edifices which would dissolve upon contact with the actual situation in a messy matter of seconds). Aline became involved. Aline the Dawn Courtier from Scotland who thought that killing Traitors was some strain of sin. He'd just have to make sure that she had no say in the matter.
The incompetence of Summer made him wince, as it always had done. The Iron Season's finest being ejected from the bar was followed by one of them walking face first into a window. A room full of children that they'd presumed were already clear got in their way, ad hoc interrogations staged to find their master. Their fear made for a dainty feast. Then Drago was in the room & impaling the bat-Traitor with icy spikes. Grips took him & punches reigned down.
A beating wouldn't really suffice though, would it?
The javelin struck him between the shoulders. He'd been careful not to hit one of the Free Lost, but no one seemed appreciative. He was fairly certain that that would suffice but you confirm kills, you confirm kills. Another split his head open. The corpse was dropped. He retrieved his weapons & glanced at the teens being sheparded from the room. They'd been concern about them, but he was happy enough ensuring that they'd be no more. They'd be no more. A Hedge-gate was flicked open, he tossed the body through; giving a nod to the rest of the company then following through.
& then they were alone.
Red had told him very strictly that she wouldn't live with a cannibal. & then the other day that she wasn't going to live with him. That was for certain, she'd told him. No way around it, things had seemed like. Perhaps it was just stress, he'd tell himself at other times, but at that moment he was unconvinced. Despite all his best efforts, she was abandoning him. Well then. To the victor, the spoils.
***
Aline had finished singing. The pub was still throbbing with admiration. Her eyes though, her eyes were something he'd seen before. He'd seen it a few times today, in fact, & a few times in the mirror further back. Things started to pull apart when placed under that kind of pressure. It was something he'd seen before, before. Just shattered & broke down, pieces floating off helplessly. Aimlessly, no longer connected. You weren't diminished, just the parts of you ended up sort of...unrelated.
'Thanks Aline. Wouldn't have worked out without you.'
She didn't appreciate his words. He didn't mind.
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