Wade { 4 } - Blog Posts
wadecalhoun:
He’d not been privy to the mysticism of the Otherworld before, had been prepared for it by The Eye’s admissions, but the Archer had never seen it firsthand. He’d not know, inherently, if this was some infernal place disguised as the realm, but it certainly felt embedded with irrefutable malfeasance, a suffocating miasma of death which clouded the two. “So, the Otherworld wouldn’t be so littered with bodies, yeah?” It sounds like a cold and calloused inquiry and Wade’s expression is grim as he looks down upon the soulless cadavers that litter the woodsy floor. Though he’s a bit hopeless in the brains department in lieu of any brawn, Wade peers around the shadowy realm, nods at Robin in finality, “Well, even if it’s a fake place parading around as the Otherworld, it’ll have to mirror it, then. Wouldn’t you know of some exit in the real place?” An unrealistic solution but they’d have to try.
....
“Not quite, it’s inhabitants would have eaten them before long,” Robin says as she observes the bodies more closely with narrowed eyes. She had traveled the area around the Courts enough times to know that the Otherworld was a dangerous place, but one in which predators did not falter when it came to devouring their prey. “The Otherworld is a rather dangerous place, however, so I recommend you keep an eye out as I will likely have a hard time protecting us.” Then, she tilts her head in consideration as she thinks his words through. She has a basic sense of recognition of the area, so she would likely be able to guide them to one of the exists she knows if they are lucky. “Perhaps, and it is worth a shot. I believe there is a exit nearby, but we might have to search for it as I have only been on this area’s counterpart a few times.”
wadecalhoun:
He flinches as Robin tosses the shield atop of them, Wade had expected her vehemence to triumph over all and confusion for what they’re currently enduring, to the way she still came forth to protect him, settles over the Archer as they drift into blackness. He’s unsure of how long he’d been out and Wade snaps to attention, the rustling of trees and the chittering of creatures has Wade standing, or rather scrambling to attention. Robin’s not far off and he half-jumps over to her, kneeling beside her as he unsheathes a knife. It’s poised to strike in his hand, yet his other hand hovers over the autumn fey, frowning down at her with a litany of thoughts and extempore he’d never say aloud. There’d be time to grieve the new chasm between them, but now was not such time for he could have sworn the ground beneath her was swirling, haunted by his own imagination. This place gave him the damned creeps and though his eyes peered around the cavernous depths of the woods, he’s shaking her awake in tandem, a hushed whisper escaping him, “Robin?.. Robin,” more emphasis as he attempted to rouse her, “Where the hell did you take us?” He’s a mere human, he can’t actually sense magic, but everything that revolved around him felt pretty damned fey-like to him, begrudgingly so as his eyes peered past the littering of bodies that surrounded them, listless and still.
...
Awakening comes with Wade’s voice and his shaking, and it takes her a long second to rouse through the sluggishness she feels. Her magic is oddly settled against her skin, an uncomfortable feeling that she has to asses at once, but first, she flickers her eyes open to find Wade above her with a knife on hand. A droll look is sent his way as his words register, and she brushes his hand away as she straightens into a sitting position, not bothering to dignify him with words as she glances around with a level eye. The scenario is familiar for years spent exploring the boundaries near the courts, the Otherworld stands before them but it does not feel right. Not when there is an ominous sentiment settling over her chest as she looks around. Finally, she deigns to look at Wade as she stands up and brushes off any dust that had gotten on her clothes. She does so by hand first, and then attempts to gather a gust of wind, but the air around them is filled with twinkling flames instead. A swift curse leaves her as she cuts her magic.
“I did nothing but throw shields in an attempt to protect us,” she explains him calmly as she looks around. “And if I venture a guess, I would say we are somewhere that looks like the Otherworld, but not quite, as something is interfering with my magic.”
wadecalhoun:
“They’re not my damned friends,” the clarification hardly matters but Wade has always garnered this petulant ire that is so easily provoked, nostrils flaring as though Robin had publicly humiliated in someway. She hadn’t, of course, and Wade is trying to swallow down this ire that is clashing with his worry; Robin is so clearly alive but their friendship had been forever marred by what transpired, a pivotal point that he was uncertain they could mend. “You’ve not a clue what you’re talking about,” his voice is struck with this wretched timbre, almost miserable as to relive the betrayal once more. Wade would give anything to take it back, but now they had to simply overcome it; if at all possible. “You can go off into different worlds and realms, I do somethin’ they don’t like, it’s clipped for me.” There’s this pleading tone that interjects the pitiful ire that once rang forth, he’s yearning for understanding that he doesn’t deserve, a silent plea. He swallows this male bravado, goes through each horrific spasm and stage of grief as he tries to submit to this apology that Robin knowingly deserves; his pride is almost insurmountable. “Robin, I’m afraid. I ain’t ever been able to admit that, not even to myself. That what you wanna hear? I’m in over my head?” it falls forth, tumbles from his mouth in a whirlwind and he attempts to level the tremors in his voice that spiral between anger and pure fear, “I made the wrong choice and I’ll be sorry all my poor mortal years.”
...
“Then why did you tell them about your invitation into my home,” Robin hisses, stepping closer to her former friend, hands reaching up to grasp his shirt to pull him closer on her rage. Is the nearest to an act of violence she had offered Wade in a long time, the nearest thing to a threat since their first meeting. “No clue? The Eye killed my brother, his children and his lover, Wade. They just freed countless people they have been experimenting on. I know what they are capable off and I would have helped you if you asked you, I would have helped you like I have always done,” she confesses, voice raw at the truth spilling from her lips, at the reminder of what she had lost at the hands of the Eye. She almost confesses more, almost talks about the time she had spent trying to destroy it from the inside, but she cannot trust the coward before her. And yet —. She cannot help but understand. Who doesn’t fear the Eye? Who doesn’t fear the Leviathan that they cannot understand? “It’s a start,” she admits reluctantly. “It’s a start, but it cannot mean everything. Not when your choice could have killed the people I have sworn to protect. Not when it could have killed the children, Wade.”
She is about to say more, about to surge again in anger, when a pressure unlike any other strikes and brings them both to their knees. Nothing she does stops it, not the shields she throws above them both, nor the magic she calls with her song. It’s instinct that drives her to shield Wade, the love she holds for him even now pushing her to protect him for he is more vulnerable than she has ever been. Her friend, her betrayer. Wade is the last thing she sees before she loses consciousness.
wadecalhoun:
Wade would love nothing more than to diffuse the situation with some ill-mannered joke but her life had lain within the balance and it was with such a precarious situation he was grimly, strangely, quiet. The Archer always would rather have some rebuttal as ammunition when all odds were pointed against him, it wasn’t typical that he was ever reticent and his jaw clenches at the reminder of Robin’s pain and how he was some willing passerby as the violence endured. “I… didn’t stab you,” it falls forward gauchely in protest at her venomous vitriol, a pathetic defense in lieu of all Robin had overcome since the hunter’s reckless accompaniment to the other hunters. “You told me to go!” It was the cowards way out, but it had been a path she’d offered to him in what Wade had, sickeningly, believed to be her final moment. His head bowed, scowling at how everything snowballed so out of proportion, “I didn’t plan for any of that to happen. M’not their leader, they got out of control.” He’s fairly shit at this whole apology thing and a hand rakes through his hair as he tries to regain control of his word vomit, “I wouldn’t leave you to die, Robin. You were in the hands of your own people, your home. You told me to go, I believed you’d had the situation under control,” bleeding out on the grassy floor of the woods; unlikely, but she’d given him the grace to escape and now up heaved the guilt onto him.
....
“No, you just watched as your friends ignored my warnings and stabbed me when I was trying to deescalate the situation. Truly, Calhoun, do you not kill demons for being guilty by association to the demon that destroyed your family? Is it not within my rights to deem you guilty by associating with a group that hunts, captures and experiments on supernaturals?” She wonders if he is willfully blind to his own faults or if he is aware of them but has chosen the path of hypocrisy rather than honesty. “I told you to go, because despite knowing you don’t give a flying fuck about me, I still cared, but that doesn’t mean I don’t blame you for it.” Cared, as in past. Cared, as in no longer. She doubts the poor little human will realize, but the conversation is only serving to solidify her desire to destroy him in such a manner there is nothing left but scraps. “Does that make you feel better? Avoiding the blame? They could not have entered the forest without your help, they would not have stabbed me if you had interjected. The changelings might have ended them, but it was your choice that killed them, your choice that almost killed me. If my King had not answered, I would be gone, and yet you stand before me and try to excuse yourself instead of apologize?” Another bitter laugh escapes her as she shakes her head. “You called me a friend, but the more you speak the more I realize you must have been lying.”
“Look at what we have here, a traitor amidst friends, hello Judas Iscariot,” Robin croons as she moves closer to the spot where Wade had hidden away, anger sitting on her chest as she looks coolly at Wade. She hopes he apologizes, hopes he is sorry enough to do so. Because if he is here to enjoy the fruits of his labors, she will gut him and feed her to the lycan’s herself. But if he is here to apologize? Well, she can use that for her advantage, use him as a more solid link within the Eye so she can open the way for Lupo to raze it to the ground. With that in mind, she creates a sound barrier around them, to ensure no one else can hear them. “Do tell me, why would I go anywhere alone with you? I cannot trust you do not carry an iron blade, as I cannot trust you are here to mourn and not to survey for your next victim while enjoying the pain and destruction you have caused.”
a gift for @thegoodfellow,
note: we’re backdatin’ a little to the funeral stuff
Wade had been mostly sulking in the corner, the funeral became a place to settle irreparable differences between conflicting species and the Archer was adept enough to figure violence was a banished principle. It still hadn’t brought him any comfort and for the first time, Wade allows the inquietude that rises within to consume him, slinks back upon himself, the Archer hoping he’d disappear into the ether. He’d always been a boisterous and domineering personality, rendered silent by the guilt which remains. Robin had told him to go and he had, so why was it such a cowardly affliction that plagued him now? Regardless, he recognizes the fall Chancellor, feels a pit settle in his stomach as his mouth nearly goes dry, “Robin,” Wade understands that Robin would filter towards her name as this inevitable calling, wringing his hands together, “We need to talk.”