Wadecalhoun - Blog Posts
"I am no fool, Wade Calhoun," she tells him coldly, but almost invitingly. In the end, she desires for him to take his chance, to attempt a culmination of their conflict, so she can have the excuse to retaliate finally once and for all and altogether destroy what makes him him. Death is far too much of a blessing for a man like him, and it is not what expects him if he falls on her clutches. Perhaps a changeling fate awaits him, hunting and maiming those he holds dear. Perhaps eternal rot, his body being eaten molecule by molecule before being put together again. Perhaps, a return to his mushroom form, a slow suffocation that slowly destroys his ability to think until he becomes a doll on her hands. She simply cannot decide, all the options as tempting as ever. "I have never been anything but who I am, Calhoun. You must forget, my kind is older than humanity, we have never been human. I held fondness for your species, yes, desired for peace between us. You have changed my mind, however, as you became an ambassador of all that you hate. I hope you know, the abomination that killed your family would be proud of what you have become, and he likely awaits you on the depths of what is left of the Inferno, awaiting for your inevitable transition into demonhood. For make no mistake, you will become a demon if you continue on this path."
Robin was a mirrored image to a life of tenderness; where once he felt limited to his humanity, Rome had soured and changed that. She taught him faultlessly of the demons in this world not knowing what he'd become when allowing him to pursue such vengeful acts. Hatred bled into his heart, fused into the entirety of his being; there'd be no turning back from the path set before him, the Archer had set ablaze his former ties. Even his family, plenty of his closest friends; Wade had chose to threaten them and evade them rather than settling for their differences. To him, to the newly established Darkfriend, there were no compromises when it came to these creatures. He couldn't say Lilith was different, spliced between any strange affection he felt for the First Demon was that petulant hatred that arose at the thought of their dalliance. They both kept each other at arms length at the end of the day and it was perhaps the only distinction. Wade laughed, a casual rendition considering the very public place, but his voice lowered, gravelly with animosity, "If I were to get another chance, you'd choke on your words." He leaned in as though sharing a sordid secret, "Strange how you talk about how I've changed, you're filling your own shoes well." This vision of a monstrosity he created for her, it was the only way Wade could allow himself to feel hatred for his former friend on his betrayal, "But get your last laughs in while you still can, Robin." A grin pulled at his expression as he leaned back, arms settling behind his head.
"Would you believe if I say that my current courage is thanks to your actions?" Robin coos almost playfully, eyes cold and death as she faces the human she had once trusted and taught but had done nothing but betray her since the moment they met. There is no denying that she had been a naive fool, far too fascinated with humanity to see the vipers hidden beneath the shape forged by Prometheus to look just like them. The once perfect vessel to the gods, reduced to cockroaches at Eden's fall. They could not kill them all, but there was no need to. As enterprising and creative as humanity could be, their deaths were as easy as plucking one heart string and watch their entire circulatory system collapse as a result. Perhaps there was good amidst their kind, but Wade had always been a hypocrite, willing to put the blinders on and ignore reality just to adhere to his stubbornly idiotic viewpoints. Perhaps humanity as a whole was rotten, and there were individuals that were good, but no matter how many delusions Wade filled his head with, the truth was simple: he had long since lost the right to call himself a good man. All that was left of the young man she had once helped trained had suffered a slow suffocating death since he reached Rome, and died as his knife sunk on her side. "I must thank you really, if weren't for your betrayal, I wouldn't have gotten the idea of my Autumn Boon. Did you not like it? I made it specially for you, so that you knew what it felt to have a dear friend stab you in the back."
who? @wadecalhoun where? killjoy's notes: doing the randomize top songs thing and got i shot cupid by stela cole
"Oh, dear. Are you alright, Wade?" Robin wonders mockingly as she sits next to him at Killjoy's bar and sends him a faux concerned looked as she takes him in slowly. There is something different about the human, danger blaring on her sense as she sits next to him, but she does not knot it comes from her boldness at entering a hunter friendly establishment or something more. Regardless, she has paid precautions, having mentioned of her desire to purview the establishment to one of the vampire marshals and Davheira, and with the new laws, she doubts any hunter would risk to attack her all too openly. And if they choose to do it in the dark? She will be ready and grinning, knowing they took the bait. " You look a little yeasty, as if you had just battled a fungal infection."
who? @wadecalhoun where? killjoy's notes: doing the randomize top songs thing and got i shot cupid by stela cole
"Oh, dear. Are you alright, Wade?" Robin wonders mockingly as she sits next to him at Killjoy's bar and sends him a faux concerned looked as she takes him in slowly. There is something different about the human, danger blaring on her sense as she sits next to him, but she does not knot it comes from her boldness at entering a hunter friendly establishment or something more. Regardless, she has paid precautions, having mentioned of her desire to purview the establishment to one of the vampire marshals and Davheira, and with the new laws, she doubts any hunter would risk to attack her all too openly. And if they choose to do it in the dark? She will be ready and grinning, knowing they took the bait. " You look a little yeasty, as if you had just battled a fungal infection."
who? @wadecalhoun where? by the dance floor
"Do they teach you how to dance in the fancy farm of yours?" She asks as she slides next to Wade with a chesire grin on her face. Bumping her shoulder good naturedly against the hunter's, she basks on his presence, wondering why does it feel like it's been far too long since the two of them spent time together. "I sure hope so, you won't be impressing anyone if all you know is square dancing."
wadecalhoun:
“Bit of a gut punch,” he offers Robin a sour expression for if she’s too paint him as a complete evildoer, the Archer is not about to exhaust himself fighting against such imagery. He’d thrived off of fear and anger, it led him to this pivotal moment of their friendship where now they were mere strangers once more, torn apart by violence spurred by hatred and confusion. “You must think I’m doin’ way more than working for them. I don’t have any clearance into those labs,” it’s a half-whisper considering she’s jumping right in when they’re on the line for coffee, but he’ll settle for duking it out with her as he waited.
“You know, that does it make me feel a bit better for trusting you for so long,” she muses thoughtfully as she settles by his side to wait for the line to move. It is almost amusing to hear him struggle to half-whisper, not realizing that she had thrown a privacy spell around the two as soon as she had stepped closer. Robin wasn’t careless, for fuck’s sake. She knew the meaning of subtlety, but she also was petty and vindictive, and worrying Wade just a little bit was far too amusing for her right now. “The fact that you do have morals, I mean. Makes it easier to believe you are just incapable to withstanding peer pressure, and not willingly malicious,” she comments carelessly before rising a brow. “The labs are not the only suspect thing of the whole organization and you know it.”
who? @wadecalhoun
where? the last bean
“I hear that the Senate and the Eye are working together to take Asphodel, congratulations on the gig,” Robin says as she appears next to him on the line for the counter. Just as she had told Flora, she cannot allow Wade to realize that there is anything different between the two now that he has apologized. Although hiding all of her resentment would be more suspicious than anything. “Good for you, salvaging your morals for a little bit longer. How does it feel to know that the Eye did have fey on their laboratories while you thought they didn’t?”
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.”
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:
-
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.
wadecalhoun:
Wade typically doesn’t have a penchant for silence but he finds himself at a loss for words in face of Robin’s rallying confessions. There’s a fragment of anger at feeling obsolete when it comes to aiding her in her peril and another sliver of guilt which jabs at the tender under carriage of his ribcage when he sees the anxiety that consumes her. She’d gotten past the dagger he’d placed to her throat when he once figured her to be a demon and she had taken a sense of pity on Wade to teach him how to better hone his pitifully human senses when it came to his own mission. Now, as she laid herself out for the wolves to metaphorically feast on her flesh he was left feeling useless once more; a typical pattern when it came to their dizzying back and forth. “Y’never told me about drows,” Wade conceals his concern with a vexed carapace as if annoyed by such a perilous detail that she’d left out. He understood is was likely for his own good in face of how overwhelming it all seemed, swallowing hard as his gaze averted down to her hands, watching as they jump from one distraction to the next, toying with her drink, her own hands; he was so utterly useless. “It’s not like you’ve got a gun to my head, I’m helping,” he sits up straighter, brows contorted as he sets his own demand to aid her through such troubles knowing Robin would refuse. “These drows… wearing loved ones faces,” his mind flashes back to his father and the empty shell he’d become as an abomination rattled inside his corpse and Wade became nauseous. “Sounds mighty familiar to me,” his jaw clenched, hand curled into a fist, and he couldn’t bear to look at Robin, he’d likely crack under the pressure, staring off behind her instead, “I’m helping.”
“I never told you because we were supposed to be safe from them,” Robin states, words bitten off with frustration as a hand raises to rub her face. She can’t get a good read of his answers, can’t get a confirmation of her worries and it is slowly killing her. She needs to know, needs to know if the man she considers a dear friend has joined hands with the people that massacred the Senate’s prison, needs to know if he has a hand on the growing disappearances. Robin cannot get the answer from her little birds, cannot gain the names of the members of the organizations and while her clairvoyance all but confirms her suspicions, she needs Wade to confirm them. She needs this, needs to know the truth from his lips, needs to know if she had armed the Eye by a moment of kindness. Needs to plan and prepare and ensure that the affection she has for her dear hunter will not cause harm to her people, because she doesn’t think she can forgive herself if harms them. She cannot forgive herself if Wade harms them. “I don’t want to put this on you, not when you have a mission you need to fulfill, not when you have mentioned your rising responsibilities,” she comments, a desperate attempt to get him to tell her the truth. But even in her desperation for the truth, she is kind, and she knows what Wade is thinking about. A sad smile is on her lips as she looks at Wade, an understanding one. Carefully, she reaches out and places a hand over his fist to squeeze reassuringly. “Yeah, I guess it would, but it’s a bit different than possession. And complicated. A lot more complicated really.”
wadecalhoun:
A low whistle leaves Wade, drumming his hands on the table as if it would aid him in formulating any response or retort of comfort. He’s at a loss, he’s not entirely familiar with fey business, never really had to concern himself with them before. Robin had dished out all he needed to know, how they were capricious but relatively harmless at the end of the day and merely, much like everyone, solely out for their own kinds survival. From what Wade had gathered, it seemed the fey simply wanted to be left to their own devices, but he knew such sentiment could not encompass the entirety of the species and that was where betrayal and shit became a dark and slippery slope. “Robin, you ain’t gonna have some target on your back for bein’ forced to take some chick’s job, are you?” Well, a larger target then the one she inherently created considering her own age and ability to meddle. “And how come you didn’t come to me about all that?” Being hunted, it allows him to recall the moment they first met when he’d almost jabbed her with his fucking iron switchblade under the false pretense that she was a demon. How far they’d come since then and though this was no time to condemn her when she appeared so emotionally wounded and fragile, Wade had felt almost offended at the idea that she would have rather faced such problem by herself. He can be a bit thick headed and even through his concern for Robin and his mild offense he still can’t rouse the obvious fact that she was trying to poke at the elephant in the room, his affiliations with a certain group that hunted all supernaturals.
...
“Wade, dearest, I have had a target on my back for years, my new role has merely increased other parties’ interest,” she begins, voice slow and deliberate as she reaches for the warmth of her drink and raises it to her lips to take a long and silent sip. There is an eternity of legends and stories behind her worries, the fear of the dark that her kind carries woven into her very essence with the knowledge of the drows that will never stop hunting them. Worry circles her chest, weights her tongue as she speaks, even as fondness shines through. Even as she wants to reach and bring him closer, even as she wants to reach out and hope. He is worried, before all, he is concerned. And yet, Robin knows Wade. Has known him since he attempted to kill her, believing her a demon and nothing else. Dearest as he is to her, she knows him enough of his faults to know that he had not caught her indirect. The desire to reach out, the hope, does not fade, but her loyalty to her people prevails and tentative thoughts turn into tentative words. It’s like walking up to the precipice, the knowledge that if she pushes she might not get an answer that she wants. Robin doesn’t know if she can handle the truth for herself, doesn’t know if she can handle another betrayal. If it were for her and her alone, she would not continue. But the truth is not for her satisfaction, not for her peace of mind: the truth is to protect those she has sworn to defend. “If it’s not the Eye, it’s the drows, shadow creatures wearing the faces of those we once loved. My kind’s very existence is in danger, and I do not know who to trust. I cannot bring anyone I care for into this, I cannot bring you into this Wade, not when my kinds protection is not your cross to bear.”
wadecalhoun:
“Oh you’re freakin’ me out somethin’ mighty now,” Wade turned almost gravely serious for he’d never seen Robin be so caught up within herself. The tear threatens to fall from her and it glistens atop vivid irises though Wade says nothing, he knows better than to point out a vulnerability in someone unless you’re intending to wound. He’d always fought and remained tacit through his own trembling teeth and dampened eyes and he wouldn’t undress Robin so emotionally in the midst of some cheesy Roman cafe; it’d be wrong. He’s quite animated as his head pans down to look at her hand upon his then back up to her sullen mien, her idea of a promotion causing his brows to crease in confusion. “And did’y have a choice in that? ‘Cause if I had a fuckin’ promotion I’d be doin’ a lil’ dance yet you’re over there all curled in on yourself.” They were all licking their wounds, that much was true, but it was the only way Wade figured he could pose the question all whilst supporting her facade as an immovable and unwavering figure.
...
“I was voted in after our last Chancellor confessed to working with those hunting our kind to call those who would sooner kill us than let us live in peace,” she comments softly, unable to apologize for her odd behavior when at the end of the day she couldn’t. Masks were something well-used by those on the Fall court, capable of keeping a facade for sake of survival, and yet, Robin could not afford to keep such a thing going when Fen’harel had proved to be a liar amongst liars. It was time for honesty to triumph on her court, and she would lead by example so that her loyalty would never be questioned. Even now, she is using that truth to further prove her loyalty. She had tried to ignore her suspicions, the pull from her clairvoyance telling her that Wade was walking a path that she could only condemn but — He is a friend, a true one, and she cared for him. Cared for him enough to ignore the clues, cared for him enough not to pry. That had to end, though, for she would not allow for their friendship to threaten the people under her charge. “We are being hunted, and the leader the Fall Court chose over three millennia ago forsook us for power. Needless to say, I have been left to fill quite the big shoes while having to avoid their mistakes.”
wadecalhoun:
“Hell, I thought we were friends,” Wade snickered as a hand was held over his heart, as if Robin had uttered a moral offense that could not be remedied. “Just doin’ my obligated duties as bein’ a good friend an’ all that nonsense.” A smile laden with the shards of grief that he is incapable of swallowing down takes hold, matches the detachment in Robin’s eyes, but he’s good at deflecting, always has been. It’s how Wade has computed survival into himself, a prominent and almost primal sense as he has somehow survived things most humans would perish beneath. He’d battled supernaturals through grit teeth and broken bones, blood staining his clothes and flesh, only to come out stronger each time. Wade fiddles with the packets of sugar that are always automatically lingering upon the table, tearing open the brown packet and pouring it onto the napkin that sat in front of the position he now occupied, “Just haven’t seen ya’ since all that ruckus at the Pluto Palace,” he puts an obnoxious flair and emphasis on the destroyed palace’s name, flippantly disregarding all they’d lost.
....
“That we are, my dear southerner,” Robin drawls, her smile turning smaller but gaining a soft twist as she raises her hand and swipes away a couple of strays tears before focusing her full attention back on the hunter. The grief is still settled upon her chest, and she is aware she must let it out at some point, but not right now, not in front of someone who would care. Silently, she wraps her hands around the mug in front of her and lets the warmth seep into her fingers as she feels a measure of fondness settle on her chest at his subtle concern. She takes another second or so to compose herself, pull back the tears but keep the grief on her eyes that match his. Then, carefully, she reaches forward to place a hand upon his and squeeze softly. It’s a small gesture, meant to comfort and to show her empathy, before she pulls her hand back and wraps it once again around the cup. “I have been rather busy, but I do apologize for not reaching out. My newest promotion to Chancellor might have me busy, but I should have made time.”
who? @wadecalhoun
where? the last bean
A contemplative mood falls upon the small table she has gotten for herself on the corner of the coffee shop, a cup of tea settled in front of her as she ponders at the window. It’s not her court that worries her now, not the Senate nor the drows. Not even the Eye, despite the task she had been assigned by the other chancellors. Instead, she is reminiscing, allowing herself to feel the grief that had clogged on her chest after the period of mourning. The change from a carefree livestyle to taking up the responsibilities of Chancellor had been drastic, allowing her little to no time to grieve those departed. Robin is not crying, not quite, but those who know her will notice the slight shine of her eyes as she looks at the window, the unusual somber air that follows her.
She is reaching towards her cup when someone slides on the chair in front of her, bringing her back from her contemplation as she raises her eyes and presents one of her favorite mortals with the facsimile of a smile.
“What do I owe the pleasure?”
wadecalhoun:
“M’slow to learn, slow to motivate, always have been,” he shrugged carelessly as a zombie lunged at him, kicking them backwards and stabbing them in tandem succinctness. He had worked up to a certain bravado when it came to hunting monsters, but everyone had their limits, covered in an amalgam of blood and sweat, “Well, you know I love a good ass kicking,” he’d set up the joke as the words were heaved from his lungs, understanding full well that Robin would always take note to jab at when he was a mere scrawny kid who was motivated by pure scorn and rage. Now, well, not much had changed except he certainly was not as lost and scrawny anymore. “But, if I did want this show to reach Act Three and move to the closin’ curtain call, you got any ideas how we’d get there, sweetheart?”
...
“Now that is a lie if I have heard one,” there is a thrill of amusement on her voice as she manifests her blade once more and decapitates a nearby ghoul with a swoop. There is much work to be done, mortal and immortals to safeguard from the walking dead, and she cannot do it alone. A warder would come in handy at this time, but all she has available is her human friend. Who happens to know how to fight supernatural due to his own quest to get revenge on a demon. Understandable, perhaps, but she worries this might led him down a path she might not be able to forgive him for taking. “If I remember correctly, you were rather quick to learn what I told you once you admitted to yourself that I was rather too kind and pretty to be a demon.”
The teasing is slow and steady even as she keeps her barrage of attacks steady, ensuring a modicum of protection for the two of them. She is older and better trained, likely to be able to continue fighting for the rest of the night with the magic to bolster her.
“Now that I can believe, but you do have a breathtaking resilience, darling. No matter how many times your pretty ass is knocked down, you always seem to come back up,” her compliment flows smoothly as she raises a palm and utters a few choice words in the old tongue, sending wall of flames around them to incinerate the nearest Terrors. “Not as such, I am afraid. Magic might be able to stop the spell’s area of influence from expanding, but it will require a great deal of power. Otherwise? The spell focus must be broken, but I do not know how to reach it.”
“And it only took you what? A few years to pay back?” The question is honey sweet, even as she sends the human a nod of acknowledgment and thanks now that she is no longer overwhelmed by the undead. It had been a brief moment of distraction, as she felt yet another eladrin die and become one of the undead, that had brought her to a pause, lowering her guard and putting her in danger. She would have managed, without Wade, but she is not ungrateful. Raising her hand to takes his, she shakes her head and smirks lightly. “Not by far, not until this thing has ended. You?”
a gift for @thegoodfellow,
“Now we’re even,” Wade practically hollered out amidst the screams of innocents and the vexing groan of zombies as they tore into flesh. He’d witnessed Robin become overwhelmed by a horde and wasted no time in going forward, knowing he was in debt to her. Their friendship had become more nuanced than that but he was always irreverently reticent, playing off his unfortunate appreciation for the autumn fey with sarcasm and short remarks. Wade held a hand out for her in finality, grinning, “Had enough of the fun yet?”