(closed) These violent delights have violent ends

[armd]

WHO: Abby & Ellie
WHAT: Two girls one mission
WHEN: they least expect it (October)
WHERE: Wounded Coast
NOTES: Violence, mention of old trauma and past violence/torture/murder

The Wounded Coast is colder than she thought it would be. There's a southerly blowing up off the top of the water that sets Abby's horse stamping in place, shifting restlessly when she tethers him up near the sparse tree-line. She presses her palm gratefully against his cheek, and offers him a bruised apple from her pocket; the later is the real treat. She leaves him munching, and descends down the track to the beach to get a better scope of the area, hands dropping to her hips as she breathes in.

Scouting wants people out to mark new enemy supply lines up the coast, and thinks they could run into a bit of hassle along the way. It's why she's here and working with somebody out of her usual division: she's the muscle, as per usual. She doesn't mind. Means she gets to do a bit of exploring by herself while she's at it, and it's nice to be away from the Gallows, out in the salt air.

Abby just hopes she hasn't been paired with somebody quiet, or boring, god fucking forbid. Guess she'll have to wait and see.

She's waiting on them to arrive, after managing to worm her way out of getting on the back of a griffon. Yeah it would have been faster, but some how Abby doesn't think it'd work out so good for her. She's trying to make a good first impression here. Sorry, Lev. She'll get back to facing her fears... later. Promise.

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[armd]

For all the training Abby has been doing, she still grips her sword like a baseball bat the moment it's out of the Shade and in both her hands again. Her neck is stinging something fierce, but she breathes through it, and channels her fury into swinging at the next thing to try and have a go at her.

The blow goes wide and misses completely, but that's fine. It makes the Shade back up at any rate, and Ellie is already rushing backward out of the corner of Abby's eye, finding her range. They'll pick the other two off easily like this.

Abby had no idea how skilled with the bow she was. Like Lev, the way she finds her target, exhales, and hits it precisely, viciously.

"Come on!" She bellows at the Shade eyeing her up, lunging falsely at it just to make it duck, and weave. This gives her an opening; she takes it, and plunges her blade into its shoulder, ripping as far down as she can at an angle.

[notathreat]

Ellie finds her range just as Abby plunges her sword directly into the creature, ripping more than stabbing it, and Ellie can feel the goosebumps tingle down her back, a direct reminder of just how monstrously strong Abby is. Especially here, now, at her physical peak.

Ellie expects to be afraid of her. To be terrified of the woman who crushed someone she loved with that strength, who had nearly squeezed the life right out of her, too- but she doesn't.

It's far better to stand behind her.

Abby's blow rips the Shade right open, and Ellie doesn't have to see the streaks and cracks of sickly green light to know it's done for. Instead she pulls back, lets another arrow fly, and staggers the shade that's moved to flank her, interrupting what could've been another blow.

She pulls back another arrow, fighting dizziness, muscles screaming with adrenaline, and shoots.

[armd]

A sharp pulse from her shard interrupts her but the Shade is long dead anyway and it hardly matters. Abby's sword clatters out of her hand when its body suddenly flakes away underneath of her attack, and she staggers forward, catching herself roughly with a gasp–

She needn't have worried. An arrow finds its mark with a dull thock, and then a second one shortly after. One two, just like that. The third Shade wails, and fades, and it's suddenly quiet save for the surge of the Rift, and Abby panting like crazy. She reaches down, and finds her sword.

"... I dunno about this thing."

Later, Jone is going to tell her she has no finesse for wielding a weapon like this, and she'll be right.

She glares and grits her teeth when her shard stings and itches, nagging at her to: "Better close it before it decides we're ready for round two."

[notathreat]

Ellie's still running on adrenaline as she makes her way to Abby's side, breathing roughly, another arrow nocked but this time pointing at the cave floor. Blood's covered the side of her face, dripped down to the front of her leather armor, grotesquely covering the underside of her chin.

She gives Abby's throat a look-over, then makes a satisfied sound. Superficial, no medical attention needed.

"Yeah. You swung that thing like a baseball bat."

Of course, Abby's so strong it didn't ultimately matter, but she's probably going to shatter the fuck out of a sword that way. But Ellie doesn't say so. Instead she reaches up to wipe the wetness on her face, and wobbles slightly on the spot as the pain starts to edge in through the adrenaline.

... fuck.

"Right," she says, and heads toward the Rift. "Put up your hand, and just... concentrate. Like you're pulling it shut."

[armd]

"I know." It comes out a little whiny. She's frustrated with herself, that's all. Been wasting time on this weapon, thinking she could change the way that she fights, or the strength and power in her body. She can't let everything go and start over. Some things will have to stay the same.

Ellie is looking at her. Inspecting her neck, she realises, resisting the urge to cover it with her hand. Instead, she looks right back at her. She took a beating back there, and she's still on her feet, moving like nothing aches. It will later, of course. Abby hopes they're well clear of this place by then.

She follows Ellie, arm at her side, and glances to her to copy her movements. The first time she ever did this, the shard did it for her. She remembers, vaguely. The tug, and shift of her hand into place.

The Rift sputters when she locks onto it, the energy building, crackling into a fever. She thinks of it like a door she wants to close, and it works, the hum of power in her hand seething in her skin until she pulls downward, and the Rift bursts into nothingness.

She didn't need to look at Ellie during it to know she was doing something similar. Turns out, they work well together.

[notathreat]

It's painful, locking onto the Rift. A lurch of nausea swirls up through her gut, and Ellie re-settles her stance, blinking blood out of her eyes, reaching up with her good hand to try and wipe it away. It's startling how much blood it leaves on her palm.

But the Rift, between the two of them, starts to knit itself together, the edges of reality mending until it comes together, closes with a flashbang of sound and a concussion of the air. Ellie staggers on the spot, catching her breath, and sighs with relief when the pain in her hand finally ebbs away.

"Nailed it," she says under her breath, and slings her bow across her back, heading over to the scorched cave floor to sift through the monster parts. The wraith left some weird, glowy residue on the floor, so she scoops it into a bag, careful not to touch it with her bare hands.

"... thanks," she says, a little awkwardly, while she ties up the bag. She doesn't look up. "For the save."

[armd]

It's not her favourite thing; oddly, Abby would compare it to drawing blood. She feels a little woozy. There's a weird taste in her mouth. She finds her flask and uncaps it, taking a long drink of water, and blinks slowly until her eyes adjust in the gloom left behind by the Rift winking out.

Ellie isn't looking at her, she's fucking with her bag or something. Abby feels a little awkward too.

"Don't mention it."

Seriously, don't. But at the same time– "Here."

She's got first aid supplies in here, always does. She doubts that Ellie doesn't, but she still roots around in her bag and produces what she's got. She sort of chucks it in Ellie's direction because apparently it's too much to give it to her nicely. "Got some elfroot in there, if you need it."

[notathreat]

It feels weirdly transactional. A thank you for a thank you, a save for a save. Now, supplies. It's not caring, it's what they'd both do with anybody else they were working with, but it carries a different weight.

Ellie catches the pack with one hand, glad she doesn't fumble it, as weird as she feels. Might be a minor concussion from her head bouncing off of the rock floor. Or off the demon's fist. She's not sure. But she digs out a familiar vial, double-checks the tag on it, and pops the cork to swallow the potion.

It still feels crazy; not quite like Derrica's magic, but like a weird diluted echo of it. She feels clearer, more focused, and the hurt ebbs considerably.

Ellie nods, replaces the glass, and tosses it back underhanded.

"How's your neck?"

[armd]

"Fine."

It's stilted, careful interaction. Abby remains alert while Ellie doctors herself, just in case something else in the cave decides to take advantage of their brief repose. Maybe the dramatic Rift closure scared everything away... she won't complain.

She catches the pack by her fingertips, and stows it back into her bag without a word.

"Don't think there'd be any supply lines in here," she says, finally. Steering them back toward the mission seems the safest thing to do. It will keep her from lingering on the fight they just had, anyway. "What with the Rift. We should get back." Get you to the infirmary: something else she won't say out loud but probably implies in the way she glances Ellie over, one brow raised.

[notathreat]

Ellie peers for a second too long at Abby's throat, giving a soft sigh as she straightens up, rubbing her hand across her aching head.

"Yeah. Something would've come up by now," she agrees, and starts heading back out through the cave, towards the light. She walks straight enough, but she's been hurt enough times to know she needs to have herself looked at. It's nothing life-threatening, and she could probably push through if she had to, but they can afford to be responsible.

"They'll be glad we closed the Rift," she adds, then fall silent, pulling her glove back into place as they step out and into the light.

"Barely missed a fucking artery," Ellie says suddenly, matter of fact as she looks over Abby's neck.

"An inch over and you'd have bled out."

[armd]

It might not be pretty but it's leagues away from a bad concussion. Ellie pulls slightly ahead as they walk and Abby uses the time to wipe at her neck with the sleeve of her shirt. It comes away red a few times in a row. The scratches need to clot. Means she has to stop fucking with them even though it means she looks like a murder victim as they step out into the light together, Abby blinking, squinting uselessly at the sun and raising her hand to shield her eyes. The rays catch her shard, and reflect bright green.

"I can write up the report." Something else settled now, meaning they don't have to follow up with each other later.

Oh, fuck, they took different modes of transport here. Ellie can't fly the griffon back alone in her condition, and Abby isn't about to do it for her.

They'll have to share the horse.

She's stuck on that unwanted realisation when Ellie suddenly speaks up.

"What?" She touches her neck reflexively. Comes away red again. Damnit, "Yeah, probably." Is Ellie trying to freak her out, or something? She rolls her eyes. "You wish. I've had worse."

[notathreat]

Ellie just nods, but inside she's thankful. Won't have to come up with the words for what happened. It says something that she never gives a thought to whether Abby will disparage her in the report, or do anything less than she should. She's just not that kind of vindictive -- but Ellie doesn't wonder how she knows that. She just does.

She's busy coming to the same conclusion about the horse. She figures she could strap herself down to Artichoke and he'd get them both home, but flying with a head injury will probably be even more miserable, so she discounts the idea. They've done enough today for her to suck it up. Maybe if she aggressively tells herself she doesn't care, it'll actually be true.

"Yeah," she says softly, glancing at Abby. Unbidden, she remembers her at the beach. Stark and skeletal and sunken, with her eyes huge in their sockets, dark smudged shadows and short filthy hair. It's startling how different she is now.

"You have."

It leaves a curious, cold, distant expression on Ellie's face. The remembering.

[armd]

Abby catches her in the disturbing silence, and it gives her pause. Her thumb is hooked into the strap of her bag up by her shoulder, half-way through readjusting the distribution of its weight, and Ellie is looking at her with a strange expression on her face. Resignation, perhaps. Something colder.

It gives Abby a shiver. She disguises the movement of her hands as concern for her wounds, lifting the neck of her shirt to press the underneath of the scratchy material against the blood, wipe it away.

"Right."

The theater.

And yet, for some reason, that look feels very far away from it.

"... Come on," she adds brusquely, electing to ignore it. As if Ellie would explain even if she asked, "Let your griffon know we'll meet it back at the Gallows. We'll take Broomstick."

Uh, that's the horse. Obviously.