Wade { 3 } - Blog Posts
thegoodfellow:
…
When he stumbles, seemingly collapses unto himself and leaves it doesn’t surprise her, but it does shatter what is left of the faith she held for her once-favorite hunter. It is such a small thing that does it, the way he hesitates, the way he almost reaches back, the way he almost seems sorry — But despite it all, despite the hesitation, despite the countless times she had saved him, he leaves. He heeds her warning and weighs his life against hers, and decides his is worth more, every time. Faith is such a funny sentiment, capable of withstanding the worst of storms and shattering at a single look. Robin had believed in Wade, had believed that he saw her as more than the means to an end, more than a convenient relationship to use and then discard.
She had believed them friends, had given him the gift of her friendship and loyalty when she rarely bestowed it to any human, and he had repaid her with the same sort of fire and brimstone the demon he so fears had offered him. It would be ironic if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating.
“With friends like these, who needs enemies,” she mumbles, coughs out through the pain, blood staining the back of her teeth as she looks at the hunters that had remained and smiles like a predator, for what are they but New Rome’s guardian’s prey? She feels them coming as she levels a look at the hunters before her, knows that their judgment day is closer than they would like and the mean-spirited part of her relishes at this information. There might be a sense of unique understanding and empathy for humanity that Robin holds on her chest, but she is not less of a fey because of it. They are a fickle capricious sort, her people, and she has never been shy about her determination to see the Eye burn. Wade has confirmed her suspicions, and she has granted him one last kindness.
Next time, the one bleeding for his mistakes will be him.
She has no need to retaliate against the hunters that remain, though, not when she only has to look to the side to see a changeling emerging from the fog to deliver their fate to them. Instead, she focuses on her song to slow down the blood flow enough to stand up and hobble deeper into the forest. The blade had been iron and properly cured, not impossible to heal but something she would feel much more confident healing with someone else present. Carefully, she limps away from the clearing where the curtain of her friendship with Wade had fallen, leaving behind nothing but a pool of blood and hoping that she will find someone to join her in a healing song sooner rather than later.
Hours had passed since Wade had been given the leverage to abandon Robin to her fate. The fey had built a new community to themselves to be salvaged from Rome’s watchful eye and Wade had destroyed that for Robin, inadvertently. He’d had never wished for something like this to transpire, but it seemed his affiliation with the Eye would only force it to be an inevitable. A choice he would have to make no matter the friendship sprouted with the autumnal fey; a choice had to be made or Wade’s personal vendetta would be lost to connections severed. The Eye was a necessary evil to him a means to a fateful end that was vital to him. He was just a mere and measly human, supplemented with natural brawn, but he was human and even brute musculature could not protect him from the evils that awaited him in the night. The Eye allowed him safe passage as his itinerary was customized with necessary tools to defeat said evils. He had made a choice and though it seemed important in the moment, it still felt wrong as he agonized any way to see that Robin had escaped.
He’s unsure of why he’s still allowed access through the fog, expects it to claim him forever but Wade finds his way through to the scene of trauma. Blood is spattered on the ground and he’s certain it has to be Robin’s considering the fatal amount and his stomach churns at the reminder. She’s nowhere to be seen and he tries to find a sliver of positivity in such factor but feels queasy as the metallic scent of blood pervades his senses. There’s this screech that’s chilling, it resounds like a bestial creature that certainly has to be a changeling. He can’t stay not unless he’d like to repay his betrayal with his own life and so Wade crosses the threshold out of New Rome once more certain that he’ll never be allowed to return again.
END.
wadecalhoun:
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The other hunters are hellbent on this blinding and senseless violence, The Eye comes across many who are meant to act under crucial orders but some seem improperly vetted by association. When their first overseer had been claimed to walk this earth as a ghoul, proper clearances had perhaps fallen to the wayside; Wade had never known The Eye to be desperate enough to snag up whoever desired to be apart of their ruthless ranks. Wade flinches as the knife meets flesh and there’s this inherent gasp and curdling scream that follows, an inevitable that carries so much agony and betrayal. It seeps into the core of his heart, blackens it a little further, almost promises him that place in the Inferno that the abomination had wagged in front of him when it had given him it’s blessing to let him suffer earth side.
He sees the proverbial flames lick around the forest, feels the heat on his neck, when really he’s sweating at the reminder of how out of control it had all become in an almost instantaneous bout of corruption. He cares little for the faith of these heedless hunters but his heart is torn in two places; to listen to Robin’s final omen or stick around to hold weight on the wound, to be consumed by the protectors of the forest, torn apart by lycans. It’d surely be considered the better fate, to meet his own quietus, than to force himself to endure what he’d just done; the agonizing weight of it all.
Wade is simply frozen, pathetically so, stumbling backwards, back towards the fog he had been granted passage to enter through. This was meant to be an innocent recon but it had stumbled into something unforgivable. The rusted scent of blood has since pricked the air and his jaw clenches as though to contain his own sickness at the reminder that it was her blood. Even with his distinct act of accomplished betray, betrayal by pathetic indifference, Robin offers him safe passage home away from the fate that the true harbingers of senseless violence would inevitably discover.
An apology is pricked in saddened irises, but it dies on his lips, it always would as he slips away into the fog back away to the sanctity of Rome and the gelid environment of The Eye’s headquarters. Wade will never be forgiven, he understands this as he recalls the insurmountable grief that struck Robin’s countenance, is anguished under the reminder of the iron blade jutting out of her frame. He would never forgive himself anyhow.
...
When he stumbles, seemingly collapses unto herself and leaves it doesn’t surprise her, but it does shatter what is left of the faith she held for her once-favorite hunter. It is such a small thing that does it, the way he hesitates, the way he almost reaches back, the way he almost seems sorry — But despite it all, despite the hesitation, despite the countless times she had saved him, he leaves. He heeds her warning and weights his life against hers, and decides his is worth more, every time. Faith is such a funny sentiment, capable of withstanding the worst of storms and shattering at a single look. Robin had believed in Wade, had believed that he saw her as more than the means to an end, more than a convenient relationship to use and then discard.
She had believed them friends, had given him the gift of her friendship and loyalty when she rarely bestowed it to any human, and he had repaid her with the same sort of fire and brimstone the demon he so fears had offered him. It would be ironic if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating.
“With friends like these, who needs enemies,” she mumbles, coughs out through the pain, blood staining the back of her teeth as she looks at the hunters that had remained and smiles like a predator, for what are they but New Rome’s guardian’s prey? She feels them coming as she levels a look at the hunters before her, knows that their judgment day is closer than they would like and the mean-spirited part of her relishes at this information. There might be a sense of unique understanding and empathy for humanity that Robin holds on her chest, but she is not less of a fey because of it. They are a fickle capricious sort, her people, and she has never been shy about her determination to see the Eye burn. Wade has confirmed her suspicions, and she has granted him one last kindness.
Next time, the one bleeding for his mistakes will be him.
She has no need to retaliate against the hunters that remain, though, not when she only has to look to the side to see a changeling emerging from the fog to deliver their fate to them. Instead, she focuses on her song to slow down the blood flow enough to stand up and hobble deeper into the forest. The blade had been iron and properly cured, not impossible to heal but something she would feel much more confident healing with someone else present. Carefully, she limps away from the clearing where the curtain of her friendship with Wade had fallen, leaving behind nothing but a pool of blood and hoping that she will find someone to join her in a healing song sooner rather than later.
wadecalhoun:
Wade had garnered apprehension over this puerile and fanatical idea the entire night it had been concocted. He’d had his own passions and desires for destroying certain species but had learned, over time from Robin, how the fey had merely wished to live unbothered by society; integrated but never harmed. Theneras’ provocation, their senseless violence against Rome had pulled the trigger and sent a frenzied outlook onto Rome. A zealous approach from hunters who hungered for blood and destruction, intent on blind chaos rather than a pragmatic approach between the blurred lines of those who inflicted harm and those who projected peace. He already flinches as Robin’s wounded visage comes into view, averts his gaze as hands grab a hold of her.
These people, the Eye, are meant to be who he swears a blind allegiance to, but his motives have never been entrenched in mindlessly following a crowd. His story was a simple one, drowned in the blood of innocents, his lifestyle a collateral of the pain inflicted upon him. His family was murdered by a demon, destroyed from the inside out and it was within his due diligence to make that pain matter. Robin had approached him so compassionately when he’d come at her blindly with a knife all those years ago. She may have laughed in his face, defended herself, but she had come to teach him the nuances of species and he had to be grateful to her that Wade had merely survived so long based on her teachings.
Before Robin, Wade had been all ire and sinew; inflicting blind rage on demons and witches; sometimes species who likely weren’t either being caught up in his destructive path. She may not have realized she had honed in his abilities, made him a more adept hunter. He used to be able to brunt the injuries, smile through the stab wounds or vampire bites, broken bones and bloodied noses. Now, he’d learned to avoid them, play into the advantages he’d learned from Robin.
Wade clears his throat as the gaggle of Eye hunters he’d surrounded himself with make a mockery of Robin, laugh in her face. “Maybe she’s right, we dunno what waits inside.“ It’s a pathetic attempt to get them to quit while they’re ahead. The Forest will not welcome strangers and they reside on the border, Robin now a victim to their senseless games. They’re hardly listening to Wade, he’s never been a commanding authority figure and Wade takes a cowardly step back, merely overwhelmed, as he hears the flick of an iron switchblade.
...
Eight paltry words. That is what years of friendship had bought her, that is what the countless times she had saved his life had bought her. Eight fucking words. Eight words he hadn’t even meant. There is no attempt to command his fellow hunters, tension on his shoulders as he prepares to help her. Nothing but eight weakly said words said before stepping back and leaving her to the mercy of a crowd of merciless hunters. Now, more than ever, she understands Zahrya’s hate for humanity, for their weak hearts and loyalties. Now, more than ever, wishes she could keep that hate on her heart, but even now it fades as she looks at Wade an all she can feel is all encompassing grief.
She had thought — She had thought they were friends, she loves him as one. Loves him enough to make him a healing artifact, loves him enough to grant him passage unto their last defense, their last asylum, loves him enough to return to him time and time again to ensure he has been safe, that he was alright. Love and loyalty given freely over the years, because she has a kind heart that only wants to give, and yet all she has gotten as repayment is what? Empty promises to help with the drows, an infiltration when her kind is near extinction and nothing but eight fucking words to try and stop the hunters he has guided into her home.
Robin’s grief is so, that she fails to hear the iron switchblade, fails to see as it is aimed as her as she keeps her betrayed stare at Wade. Fails to do anything but to double in pain as it’s used to gut her as she screams at the searing pain trailing behind the blade. She doesn’t collapse unto herself, as she wishes, doesn’t wail aside from the first scream, keeping herself locked in place as she hears the distant echo of changelings and lycans approaching to hunt for trespassers and makes the decision to give her former friend one last kindness. Eyes raising up to meet Wade as she feels her blood leave her, she gives him a grim, sardonic smile.
“Run, Red Riding Hood, before the wolves and our protectors get you for this, run,” she says, words sharp and painful, coming out as a threat to those who do not know her, but as a warning meant to reach Wade’s ears and his ears alone.
Survive so that you can leave with your choices, traitor.
Devastation is something her kind is not well used to, not something she has felt often on her immortal life. Her brother’s dead was the first and only time she had felt anything remotely alike the emotion now swelling at her chest. A fear for the safety of those she cared about, echoing day after day as they tended to their wounded and saw that their numbers were drastically reduced. Fear is in the air, and they are facing a war on all sides. The Senate, the Eye, Ayi’gi. Enemy after enemy laps at their borders and they cannot stop all of them, cannot stop any of them. The toxin had been fey made, but delivered by the Eye, another machination of theirs, but it had been Theneras words that had sealed their status as an enemy of the Senate. One of their own’s hatred had doomed their standing on the senate, and one of their owns idiocy had seen Ayi’gi summoned from the depths from where she had not meant to be summoned. Not yet, at least.
The survivors were being ragged, the Chancellors even more so, scrambling to gather a semblance of stability on an increasingly unstable world but unable to do so quite yet.
As a Chancellor, she is not meant to serve as a sentinel, but she has taken to patrol the borders in hopes of avoiding dwelling on the thoughts haunting her every footstep. That very night, had been different. Her clairvoyance had been tugging at her senses, blaring in alarm as she walked through the forests. Robin had hoped for it to be paranoia — A hope dashed when she had sensed a very familiar human entering the boundaries of the forest. A very familiar human that wasn’t alone. The realization hits like a tsunami, powerful enough to shake her to the core. Robin has to see it, though. Has to see the confirmation of all her fears take form, has to see Wade’s face and compare it to the man that had demanded to help against the drow. Has to look into his eyes as he attempts to destroy the one refuge they had managed to keep from that one enemy.
She wants to see his eyes as she finally admits the truth that she had been keeping to herself: that she has always ever been the means to an end on his eyes.
She rushes to meet the group of humans before anyone else, allowing her defenses and armor to melt away in hopes of taking them by surprise. Robin won’t attack them immediately, not when she needs to know more of their visit, not when she might be able to use them once she hardens her heart against Wade. And — Perhaps — . Perhaps part of her wants to see how far Wade will allow to go on, so that she can let go of any affection that remains.
She melts out of the darkness that surrounds the group, and soon has a hunter’s hand grab her and drag her to the middle of the group. She doesn’t have to hide weariness on her expression, the near nonexistent spark on her eyes as she looks at them, the apprehension at their presence. Robin feels them all, and she shows them, even as fury rages on her chest at the betrayal.
“Do not venture further,” she warns, voice firm even as she pulls her arm away from the hunters grip and raises her chin to look at the group that had begun to surround her defiantly. “You are not welcomed here, and we do not want conflict on this night. Not now.”
a gift for @thegoodfellow,
notes: betrayal through complicity? oh stunning
Far too much had changed in the realm of supernaturals and their representation, laws that bound some to protection overturned, while some were bolstered with it; a clean slate. Fey and eladrins had always seemed to be this sort of untouchable group, their history with Rome and it’s Senate rolled way back and considering the Eye propped itself up as being this subliminal and illusive bogeyman, they’d done their due diligence quietly. Since the Senate had refused to support fey any longer, however, hunters within the Eye seemed far too intrigued to scour the forests and bring one back from the dangerous depths of the Fairy King’s forest. Wade was invited, Robin and him were friends and so he seemed to slip by the defenses prompted by the forests omniscient nature undetected.
It felt wrong, this palatable twinge of disaster afoot a sour tone in his mouth as he walked along with a half-drunk motley of hunters. One could consider this an off the books job but if they were able to procure something from the hidden depths of the woods, then the Eye surely would not refuse it. They’d been making this obvious ruckus as though they were calling out to any penchant of trouble and mischief if anyone dared to approach. Wade was curious as to where the bestial changelings were but his surprise and apprehension had been settled as a familiar face slipped forth from the darkness; Robin. A mild form of protest died on his lips, an error on her part for approaching him, but Wade could have offered her any sort of warning that they were about to traipse into her newly created home and wreak havoc and destruction of only one kind. His plan had always been to slip away, let their inebriation carry them through the chasm emptiness of the forest and see what swallowed them whole in lieu of their idiocy, but now he was forced to remain and deal with the consequences as one came forth with an insidious grin to grab Robin and pull her to the center of all their attention.