Chapter Text
Grian looked around the lower town center of the city of Saigo and his wings ruffled behind him. Rustling against his green hoodie—invisible. Concealed much like his talons which only resembled brown boots and his ear tuffs which only resembled elf ears against his green beanie. Hidden by a powerful illusion or glamor. His talons clicked against the stone ground.
“You know you could walk next to me like a normal cat,” Grian commented to the grey tabby laid across his shoulders.
“Now why would I do that?” Scar’s voice purred back. “I can see so much better from up here!”
“Oh, I'm sure you can,” Grian drawled back and turned sharply to the left before making his journey to the Southlands. He could feel the cat’s claws dig into his hood. Grian rolled his eyes and told him, “You know you can stay up there, but if you fall you have no one to blame but yourself.”
“Ah, you don’t have to worry about me!” Scar’s voice chirped back; a little bit too high pitched. Instantly telling Grian that the man disguised as a cat was in fact worried about falling off his shoulders. He once again rolled his eyes.
“Yes, because you’re just going to shred your hood you gave me instead,” he replied coolly.
“I will not!” Scar exclaimed, huffing at the avian. As Grian walked down a short staircase, Scar once again dug his claws into his hood before realizing he had done as such and immediately retracted them. Instead wrapping himself tighter around Grian’s neck, effectively becoming a living scarf. With a smile, he reached up and scratched the top of Scar’s head resulting in a happy chirp from the man as they continued their way. Grian led the two down streets which got increasingly treacherous and narrow with buildings made from mis-matched woods and stones that slowly built ever high the deeper they descended into what was known as the slums of the city. It was the place where most hybrids ended up residing with the rare exception of a few adventurers working for the guild.
It was also known for its crime, the streets having many small-time gangs which Grian always had to keep an eye out for. However, he had made a name for himself when he had first arrived. Not only as an adventurer; but, as one of the best fighters, being able to complete any quest thrown at him with haste. Minus the travel time. He still kept an eye on the shadows though, in case anyone dared to go against him. Plus, he was still using his glamor so who knew if anyone who didn’t know him would recognize him anyway.
Eventually, even the sky was blocked out by the towering buildings, boardwalks and tarps above his head. He smiled—they were almost there. Scar let out a low growl in his throat and pressed his self tighter against Grian’s neck and shoulders, his body tense like it was readying itself for a fight.
“Don’t worry, we’re here,” Grian reassured, rounding a corner. And there it was—the wall a mismatch of dark oak and cobblestone. The top of it concealed by the large boardwalk which wound down the narrow alley between the buildings. With a grin he stepped right up to the entrance and poked his head inside. Bobbing it up and down slightly and allowing his concealed wings to flutter behind him. Four heads turned in his direction.
“Grian? Is that you?” an anxious Mumbo asked.
He fully stepped inside, Scar jumping down from his shoulders. “Grian? I don’t know who this Grian person is—I only know Grain.”
“Grian!” Jimmy shrieked excitedly, jumping all the way across the courtyard inside the Southland’s walls and wrapping himself around the shorter avian in a hug. Practically jumping into his arms so Grian had to carry him despite the half-foot height difference. Jimmy’s too-small golden wings fluttering against Grian’s own. Suddenly, the two were nearly barreled over as they found themselves in a bear hug. Both picked up from the ground and spun around by the demon Impulse.
“Grian, you made it in time!” Impulse exclaimed happily. His arms around Grian almost unpleasantly warm from happiness. He allowed Impulse to hold the two avians until he was content; however, Jimmy decided that enough was enough and began to squirm in the demon’s grasp tweeting unhappily.
“Put me down Impulse, I am not your push toy!” he cheeped. Impulse let out a laugh which rumbled in his chest and set the two avians down, both brushing themselves off. Grian finally removed his glamor as he turned to Martyn who was walking towards them, a mischievous grin wide on his face.
“Sure, you are Timmy!” he exclaimed, his white wings which hovered behind him flapping gently. His pale blue eyes flashing golden, marking him as a Listener. “With your fluffy little wings--”
“My wings are not little!” Jimmy interrupted with a squawk. Martyn just continued as if the golden avian hadn’t said anything.
“And with the number of times we have seen you cuddling with Scott--”
“No, you have not!” Jimmy cheeped indignantly, his face suddenly a bright shade of red. He stepped forward, his too small wings flaring out behind him in an attempt to be threatening and pointed a finger at Martyn’s chest. Looking down at him while Martyn looked right back up at him with a smug grin on his face. “You better not have watched us. That is a private time mister--”
“Oh well why did you just leave the door wide open?”
“There is no door!” Jimmy squawked back; his face now red from frustration instead of embarrassment. The trio descended into laughter while Jimmy buried his face into his hands in frustration and made a sound akin to a dying chicken. Grian allowed himself to nearly double over in laughter, blinking tears from his eyes. When he finally picked himself back up, he wiped the tears from them and blinked a couple times to clear his vision. This was when he finally noticed the tall, thin, suit-wearing, mustached vampire standing at the back of the clearing. Safely hiding under the shade of the tall several decades (possibly even centuries) old spruce tree which towered high in the sky. Easily one of if not the tallest thing in all the city of Saigo.
It was now Grian’s turn to charge at someone. “Mumbo!” he squawked happily, charging forward and barreling into the startled vampire, wrapping himself around the spindly vampire’s body and twittering happily.
“Oh, Grian, oh my gosh you startled me there!” Mumbo exclaimed, wrapping his own arms around Grian. Careful to avoid the avian’s practically vibrating wings.
“I missed you!” he chirped back, burying his face into the man’s chest. Mumbo had been the one to find him, and even though he had apparently known Jimmy and Martyn for longer, Mumbo was his closest friend of the Southerners.
“Well, I missed you too mate. But could you maybe umm, loosen your grip on me a little? You're squishing me a bit here,” Mumbo requested with his usual tone of nervousness. Grian only grinned and proceeded to tighten his grip on the man which only caused him to sigh, a little defeated. Receiving the response he wanted, Grian finally loosened his grip around the vampire and let go of him. Dropping down silently as his talons easily found purchase on the grassy ground. He beamed up at the vampire with an innocent grin, him only rolling his eyes in response. He was distracted by a coo from Jimmy.
“Aww! And who is this little fella?” he cooed. Grian turned to face him, to see the avian having knelt and was now running his fingers through Scar’s fur who arched his back happily, grey striped tail high in the air. Grian could have sworn he was purring, thoroughly enjoying the attention. Scar blinked and looked over at Grian and Mumbo before running over to them with a splutter from Jimmy before he followed suit. Clearly not being done with petting the kitty. Scar stopped as he neared them and craned his head to look all the way up at Mumbo with wide emerald eyes. Mumbo easily was the tallest out of all of them, being a whole foot tall than Grian whose head only met his collarbone.
Maybe his shoulders, but that was only because of his waffle of a head of hair. Mumbo smiled nervously and knelt, holding his hand out for Scar to smell. Scar leaned forward, sniffing the outstretched hand curiously before deciding that Mumbo was okay and rubbing his face against it, resulting in a chuckle from the vampire. Something warmed in Grian’s chest, and he chuckled in turn as both Jimmy and Mumbo started to pet the cat, making Scar purr even louder than before.
“The wizard sent him with me to ensure nothing bad happened, so he could watch over me,” Grian replied, guilt prickling against his wings at the lie. As long as Scar didn’t talk or reveal his name, the lie would hold up.
“Aww,” Jimmy cooed as Scar rubbed his face against Jimmy’s hand. “What’s his name?”
Scar puffed his chest out, raising his head proudly. “Well Scar Goodtimes himself!” The other four gaped at him and his eyes widened, his ears flattening to the sides of his head at the realization of what he had just done. Grian face-palmed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I mean Jelly, I mean MEOW!” He stumbled as he hurried to correct himself, the meow loud and cracking several times. Like trying to listen to a voice through a shoddy communication crystal.
“The cat. Can talk,” Mumbo said more than asked.
“That cat can talk?” Martyn echoed in shock.
Grian sighed, his wings falling slightly so the tips of his feathers brushed the ground and replied. “Yes.”
“And his name is Scar. After the wizard,” Mumbo continued. Grian’s ears tuffs pricked in curiosity. Mumbo knew who Scar was? How could he know, if he had never revealed his name?
“And he looks like his cat,” Mumbo said undeterred, as if he was putting all the pieces together in his head.
“Noo,” Scar responded, shaking his head. “There is no connection between those things whatsoever!” he exclaimed with a bright look in his eyes. Grian imagined him to be grinning, if he could.
“You sound like him,” Mumbo said bluntly, gesturing at Scar.
“I don’t know what you mean!” Scar replied innocently.
“Scar.” Grian cut in, careful to keep any annoyance from his tone and instead rendering it borderline apathetic.
“Yes, little birdie?” Scar asked, turning to Grian. His eyes still wide with innocence.
“They know who you are. You can turn back,” he told him.
“You don’t know that!” Scar exclaimed with a wave of his paw and a swish of his tail.
“Scar.”
Scar let out a long, dramatic sigh as if he had been defeated with his head hung low to the ground. “Okay. . . just give me some space. A man needs his privacy,” Scar said, batting at Jimmy and Mumbo to give him some space. The two quickly obliged, scrambling back with bewildered looks on their faces (although Mumbo’s was slightly less bewildered) to give him the space he needed. Martyn and Impulse who had been a little behind Grian moved up, so they were at his sides as Scar was enveloped in a green light. His body grew bigger, his tail disappearing as his arms and legs returned to normal, so he stood upright. The rest of his body becoming more shaped like a normal human as what Grian knew to be his purple robe grew from his grey fur.
And there he stood, the man of the hour with purple robes, grey underclothes, brown hair, scars which littered his skin like he had been shattered and pieced back together, and bright emerald eyes. With a wave of his hand, a cane with a golden bird-shaped handle with emerald eyes appeared. Scar caught it with ease, waving it in the air before setting it in front of him, leaning on it ever so slightly. Scar looked around the courtyard at the gaping hybrids and waved at him with his lopsided grin.
“Well, hello there,” he greeted.
“Umm. Hi,” Mumbo greeted back with his own usual nervous smile and wave.
“I’m guessing you’re the wizard then?” Martyn asked with a twitch of his wings, a calculating look in his eyes. Like he was sizing Scar up, or perhaps trying to take him apart piece by piece. To see what was underneath. To see if he was trustworthy.
The man grinned down at him and with a twirl of his hands exclaimed, “The one and only!”
“How come you only came now?” Impulse asked, suspicious. His tail lashing, with his demonic traits slowly becoming more prominent. Skin reddening, eyes beginning to yellow and small horns poking up through his hair. Clearly, Impulse did not trust Scar at all and for understandable reasons given how long it had been before Grian had been able to come to the Southlands after the first message. But Grian didn’t want Impulse and the others to not trust Scar. Even the thought of it settled wrong in him; made his chest hurt.
He had to fix it.
“We didn’t get any of the messages until this morning,” Grian explained, stepping forward, trying to put himself between the wizard and the demon. To defuse the tension. “We left as soon as we could, ‘cause we didn’t want you to think that Scar had kidnapped me.”
“Is that what Scar thinks, or just what you think?” Martyn asked, his voice laced with the same suspicion that Impulse carried. Everyone turned to face the tall, scarred wizard.
“Now do you really think I would imprison Grian here?” Scar asked back with a lopsided grin and a light tone. “I mean, I’m sure his feathers have quite the large amount of magic imbued in them and that they would sell for quite the pretty penny. But!” Scar spun on his heels with a dramatic wave of his hands. Somehow moving so he was beside Grian and placing one arm over his shoulders. Grian jumped, startled by the sudden contact. He looked up to see Scar looking down at him, an unplaceable twinkle in his eyes. “Why would I do that if I could have an ally? I would never sell one of my friends.”
Scar paused and his grip tightened on Grian’s shoulder. He glanced back up to see that glimmer in his eyes missing. “Unless you know someone who would do that,” Scar said more than asked. A threat. To anyone who would dare try to hurt Grian. Normally, that sort of threat would have come from Martyn or Impulse, but for it to have come from Scar. . .
He almost wanted to put himself in harm's way just to see how Scar would respond. Grian mentally shook himself. Why would he think that? He had never wanted anything like that before. While he certainly had never really cared for getting hurt, he also most certainly had never tried to put himself into a dangerous situation before on purpose unless it was for a quest. Grian mentally shook himself again and focused back on his surroundings.
To find the Southerners glaring at Scar while he glared right back at them, his grip still tight on Grian’s shoulder. He had to step in. With a reassuring smile, he separated himself from Scar’s side, so he stood in the middle of everyone. His head turning to try and keep an eye on everyone. He opened his arms and wings to keep them separated.
“Listen fellas. Fellas, fellas, fellas,” Grian started. He turned to face Impulse who appeared to be the most aggressive in the moment, his instincts telling him to try and protect Grian. Which really was sweet, but not what they needed right now. “Do you really think a man who can talk about cookies and cats for hours would really try to hurt me?”
The others stared at him, with Scar’s face slowly turning red and the Southerners trying to process how to respond to that. Mumbo snickered. Impulse coughed, trying to hide his own start of a laugh. Jimmy chuckled and Grian chuckled back. Scar’s face was still getting more red.
“How could someone possibly talk about cookies for that long?” Martyn asked with a smile.
“Well, I’ll have you know that my cookies are simply amayzin’ and that there is nothing wrong with talking about them,” Scar responded hotly.
“Scar you talked about different types of cookies and the specifities of the sugar needed for snickerdoodle and chocolate chip cookies for over an hour,” Grian told him, resulting in a huff from the man.
The clearing finally descended into laughter as Scar huffed again and exclaimed, “I did not!”
“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t--especially as I was there to witness it!” Grian shot back with a grin. They descended into chaotic bickering and banter as Impulse pulled away to make lunch. The tensions defused as everyone joined in. The banter eventually descending into an argument which resulted in Martyn, Jimmy, and Grian wrestling on the ground with Mumbo anxiously watching from the side and Impulse and Scar laughing loudly. Both occasionally making their own jabs.
Despite the wrestling match and his frustration over whatever the reason why they had begun to fight was, Grian couldn’t help feeling happiness bubble up inside of him. His flock was together—all of them. Part of him knew that he wasn't supposed to have a flock. That it was weak; that it was avian. That it was imperfect. But he had been told time and time over that it was okay to be imperfect.
Maybe what made the world beautiful was the imperfection of it all. And that was what made this moment perfect. Everyone was together, in one place, and they were happy. And maybe that was all that mattered. The ‘imperfection’ carried over to their meal of soup where they threatened each other by vaguely pointing spoons at each other and complained to Impulse about making his seemingly favorite meal. Complained about how they were getting tired of the meal, and while Grian joined in, teasing the demon about how he always made soup, he couldn’t help but think that it was one of the best meals he had ever had.
Because everyone was together. By his side and happy. Because that was what mattered. Grian wanted it to last forever; to pretend just a little longer that nothing was wrong outside of those walls and that everything would be okay. Of course, he knew that wasn’t true. But wouldn’t it be nice, just to pretend for a little longer?
He was halfway through a teasing sentence towards Jimmy when Scar placed his hand on Grian’s wing, pulling it down slightly. With a startled chirp, he turned to face the man. Eyes wide and ear tuffs fluffed out with confusion, curiosity, and concern. Scar stared down at him, his usual grin missing and his eyes stormy. Had Grian said something wrong? Had he done something wrong? Had the others done something wrong? Would he be able to protect them, if they had? Or would he only be able to Watch, just like before.
Grian refrained from shrinking away from Scar’s gaze. He had never seen such a look in the man’s eyes. Not when he had first arrived, not when he had tried to See into that room at the end of the hallway, nor when he had asked to send the message to his friends, or when he had received all those messages. No, this was different from all those expressions he had seen on the man’s face before. This? This was rage. Hatred. Something raw, and dangerous.
“We need to go,” Scar told him in a low voice.
“What’s wrong?” Grian asked, concern giving an edge to his voice.
“Someone's in our home.” Grian sucked in a sharp breath. The words were like a kick to the stomach with fear stabbing into his mind. Scar grabbed onto his hand and pulled him up—food forgotten on the ground with his cane in his other hand, supporting him. The others watched them in a mix of confusion and concern
Jimmy blinked up at them as the others stood. “What’s going on?”
“Someone's at their home,” Martyn answered for them as Scar took Grian closer to the center of the courtyard.
“Oh no. That’s bad,” Mumbo commented rather unhelpfully.
“How are you going to get back?” Impulse asked, glancing between the two, his tail flicking back and forth.
Scar turned his attention to the demon with a grin, a grin which seemed just a little too sharp at the edges. “Oh, just a little teleportation spell, nothing too much.” He pulled Grian in closer, so his side was flush with his own.
Mumbo looked down at him, his brows creased in concern and for a moment he looked as though he wanted to say something. But then he shook his head and instead gave Grian a smile. He guessed it was supposed to be reassuring, or perhaps supportive, but it still looked more nervous than anything.
“You just be careful, okay mate?” Mumbo told him.
“Yeah, you be careful!” Jimmy chirped with his own bright grin.
“You tell that intruder who he’s messing with!” Martyn shouted after them as the ground began to glow green.
Grian grinned and waved as the green light began to encompass his vision. “I will! Goo~dbye!” he chirped as he was blinded by the green light. Something pulled at his spine, like a tether, pulling him through space, back to Scar’s mountain.
~ ¤ ~
Scott took a deep breath of cold, spruce forest air as the pale blue light which encompassed his vision faded away. Revealing a large snow and spruce wall which went around the fortress-like village which was aptly named the Snow Fortress. The walls held by a powerful spell the B.E.S.T. team had put together to protect the village within from any intruders.
“How was your journey?” a cheery voice called. Scott turned to see the blaze-born Tango grinning at him brightly with his best friend Skizzleman standing beside him, arm slung over his shoulders with his own bright grin on his face. Tango wearing a red and grey military like outfit with red eyes, flaming yellow hair and a thin tail, also tipped with its own yellow flame waving behind him much like a cat’s. Skizz wearing a suit (minus the coat) with the sleeves torn off, revealing muscular, scarred arms.
“It went well,” Scott replied politely, nodding his head to the two. He glanced over to see Etho and Bdubs standing a little further off to the side. The taller standing behind the comically shorter man, respectively. Bdubs being a mossling, or a human-moss hybrid. With a moss cloak which hung around his shoulders and almost reached the ground, hood pulled up over his head and vines which snaked up his neck before fading into his it. The two were watching him, Etho with a neutral if slightly suspicious look and Bdubs with his own (also comically) suspicious look.
His wide eyes narrowed and his mouth, which was normally turned up in a wide smile instead frowning and one eyebrow so high Scott was half positive that if it went any high it would fly right off his face.
“What are you doing here, hmm?” Bdubs snapped, his voice loud enough that he might as well have yelled it to the whole world. Etho rolled his eyes behind him, and Scott echoed it, only with a mildly amused smile.
“I have to be somewhere near here for the guild. I thought it’d be faster if I got a favor to be teleported here,” he explained patiently. Bdubs snorted skeptically and the others just watched him.
“Aww, you didn’t come here to see us, Scotty?” Skizzle teased.
He tilted his head to the side. “Scotty?” Pearl had called him that a couple of times, when they had first met, but he had soon shut that down and she had never repeated it. “Uh, no.” Scott said instead, deciding not to say anything against it this time. He probably wouldn’t be around them enough to hear the nickname again; however, he made a mental note to shut it down next time he heard it.
Tango shook his head, his tail swishing behind him. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. That’s a shame, I could have showed you my new thingamabober!” he exclaimed sadly.
“Tango that thing almost killed me,” Bdubs shot down instantly.
“But you survived!” Tango shot back.
“It threw an axe at my head!” The short man exclaimed as he left Etho’s side and stalked up to Tango’s, shaving his face inches away from the blaze-born's. Still being half a head’s height shorter than him, despite Tango being on the shorter side. Scott rolled his eyes and turned away as the two short men began arguing with each other.
“Okay, well I’m going to get going,” he said over his shoulder. He reached into the magic within him and felt his senses expand as light wings like crystals formed behind him; hovering just off his shoulder blades. Made from light itself and painful to look at directly, like staring at the sun for too long.
“Okay! Bye!” He heard Skizzle call after him, most likely with a wave.
“Bye!” he exclaimed over his shoulder. And with a downstroke of his wings, he was sent rocketing up into the sky, within seconds the quartet below just being a speck in the distance. It was maybe a two-hour flight, with the oak, dark oak and spruce trees just a blur beneath him. Rivers snaking between the rolling hills and around the flatter stretch of forest that was almost like a valley. Before rising to become the mountain he knew Scar resided atop off based upon the description the quest gave to him. As he neared the top, Scott slowed his flight to a glide.
Scar’s simple home rested upon the top of the mountain. To any outside eyes just being a simple shop with a wizard hat’s roof, and a small garden behind it, hidden by a mix of tall trees. It surprised him slightly, just how quant it seemed compared to how much the man liked dramatics. He seemed to have a strong liking for flames and explosions, using them whenever he conceivably could in fights for the guild. Resulting in them having to cover for him when he got in trouble. So, Scott wouldn’t put it past him to have a hidden base under the shop.
He landed in front of the shop and glanced around to ensure no one was there as his wings disappeared back into the air. Instantly, his glamor hidden crystals appeared around the corners of his vision, and he widened his eyes. He reached up and pulled down his bangs, so they were in front of his eyes. Blue. Not reddish-brown. Scar had placed a spell preventing the use of glamor, so no one could hide their true selves from him.
Scott shook his head and pulled his hood up further around it before heading inside. The door gave off a quiet, cheery chime as it opened, and once again as Scott walked in and closed it behind him. He stiffened from the sound and strained his ears for any hint that someone was there; however, there was none. And so, he crept inside, surveying the shop around him. There were shelves lined along the walls, along with a couple dotting the room with a wood which seemed much newer than the rest of it. In fact—it only seemed to be a week old, tops.
The shelves decorated with an assortment of trinkets. Rare foods, crystals and charms. Some with magic, others not, and others still with hidden magic. Only activated by a certain requirement. The crystals glowed and seemed to capture the sunlight through the back window, hidden above a tall shelving compartment. Refracting it back into the room in stunning colors.
A few lanterns hung from the ceiling, adding to the whole ambience of the room. If he hadn’t been there to bargain for either Grian or the Gem of Life, he would have found it cute. Instead, his ears were strained for any sounds which might signal another's presence. His sharp eyes searching the shadows for a crouched, hiding figure. Scott made his way through the small shop, picking up a few trinkets to get a better look at along the way, and over to the back counter. It was decorated with a purple tablecloth, more trinkets scattered across it.
When he peered behind the counter, he found several drawers lining it and a simple touch alerted him of a locking spell, broken only by the user or someone else who knew how to. The floor was almost completely covered by a green rug, decorated with golden weaving, threading leaf-like patterns through it. Elven. With a smile to himself—having seen something similar to this a handful of times as an adventurer, he walked over the rug and stood in the middle. He stomped, just once. While it didn’t sound hollow, he could feel a pulse of magic under his feet which alerted him otherwise.
‘Thank the gods I was born an elf,’ he thought to himself as he moved off it, crouched down, and pushed it to the side. Under it was a trap door. Or at least, what he assumed to be a trap door. There was a something dark brown—most likely wood—however, no matter how hard he tried his vision refused to focus on it. Like it didn’t want to see it, even though it was right there. He guessed that it was a spell to prevent someone from seeing it, unless they knew what they were looking for.
Something which made your mind not want to see it, unless you knew it was there. Of course, most spells like that didn’t work on magical creatures (such as elves). Or at least, they only worked partly, depending upon how strong the spell was. In this case, the spell in place making it so he could register that there was something there, which Scott naturally assumed to be the trapdoor he was looking for, but not quite what it was. Which really was rather annoying.
So, with a sigh, Scott closed his eyes and reached out, allowing his hands to search the surface of the trapdoor for the handle, given that using his eyes wouldn’t do anything for him. Eventually, he found what he was looking for. A metal handle on the right side of the door, close to the center of it. With a smile, he pulled it open and opened his eyes in turn. He was greeted by a deep tunnel going down, lined with different types of stones and woods. Illuminated by more lanterns which hung overhead.
The end illuminated with a mix of more lanternlight and sunlight despite being underground. He stood and took a deep breath. He strained his ears even further. There was no one there. With a sigh, he headed in, keeping his hand close to the hilt of his sword, just in case any further obstacles lay before him.
~ ¤ ~
Grian arrived at the mountain with Scar still holding him to his side, a sick, dizzying sensation making the world around him spin. He blinked a few times and allowed the sensation to fade before he focused back on his surroundings. He hadn’t even noticed how he had put some of his weight against Scar; but, as soon as he did, he pulled away. He didn’t want to seem weak. The sun hung lazily overhead, with a few puffy clouds dotting the horizon and a soft breeze blew across the top of the mountain.
Ruffling Grian’s feathers and the grass beneath his talons. It was so calm, despite the danger hidden within that house. It was strange, how still and even peaceful things could seem when they were at their most dangerous. Scar stepped away from him, marching towards the house and Grian instantly moved to follow him, like a shadow to be called upon at any given moment. Instantly noticing the lack of his presence, the newfound coldness of the mountain air against his side going straight through his hood. Like a thorn in his heart, but he took no time to find out why it hurt the lack of Scar beside him.
He had no time to find out, with the intruder hiding within their home. And so Grian followed after Scar as he led them into their home. There were a few items on the new shelves which had been moved; however, nothing seemed to be missing. He could see the rage which radiated off Scar like his skin had been turned to fire. Feel the magic which burned within him as a raging flame, ready to devour anything that stood in its way. He allowed his hand to hover near the hilt to his sword as they descended downstairs—the rug which covered the concealed entrance removed and pushed off to the side.
The trapdoor open and leading into their home. Scar practically growled at the sight of it and barely hesitated before he headed further inside with Grian still following behind like a shadow. Every other step Scar took was echoed by the click of his cane, harsher than normal. Grian couldn’t tell if it was because he was relying upon it more or if was simply because of his anger, but he pushed the thought to the side. Scar instantly took them to the hallway, the magic within him burning hotter and hotter by the second as he led Grian straight to the intruder. He allowed his Eyes to Search through the home, to find them and found that one; Scar’s mysterious door remained undisturbed (it was still harder for him to see it even though he knew it to be there, having to stare at the wall for one second too long before it made itself obvious to him), and two; the mysterious intruder was located in Scar’s study.
He glanced up at Scar as the man made a bee line to the room the intruder was in, paying no amount of attention to how noise he was making. His cane clicking loudly every other step he took, despite the green and gold runner which went down the long corridor. He turned sharply to the right and Grian followed right behind, just like a shadow. His Eyes floating around the room, watching the intruder’s every movement, with one hand hovering over the hilt to his sword and wing flared out behind him behind him threateningly.
Grian’s narrowed his gaze at the man who looked back up at them. Leaned back in Scar’s chair, with his feet kicked up on his table. Watching them coolly with blue, cat-like eyes narrowed to slits and a lazy smile on his face. Sky blue bangs poked out under his black hood, which was pulled tight around his head, like he was trying to hide something. Small, light crystals floating under the hood, pressed tight against his head. His eyes widened in shock and his wings fell.
“Scott? What are you doing here?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. How could the elf possibly know how to get in here? Why would he even need to be down here to begin with? And he could only be here if he either had reaccepted Grian’s quest, in an attempt to find him—which was very unlikely given that if anyone went out on a quest and didn’t return the guild took it down. Then again, the quest was for a very rare, and very powerful artifact which if used right (or placed in the wrong hands) could bring immortality. Along with insanity. Either that, or Scott somehow knew Scar which was even more unlikely since Scar hadn’t been a part of the guild in several decades at least.
“Scott Smajor,” Scar said in a low voice.
Scott’s smile brightened and his head tilted to the side ever so slightly. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Scar! How many years has it been?” he exclaimed cheerfully in greeting.
“Not enough,” Scar grumbled, his gaze flicking to the floor, then to Grian before looking back at Scott who still watched them with his lazy, carefree posture and expression. However, Grian could see the way his eyes flicked around the room, between the duo. The slight, hidden tension which had gathered in his shoulders as soon as they had entered the room. “So.” Scott’s gaze flicked back over to Scar from Grian, and his face twitched; however, it was too fast to discern what emotion had crossed it in time. “Why are you here, Scott?”
The elf sighed and lowered his feet from the table, instead leaning upon it with his arms propped up on it. Supporting his head on his knuckles. “I’m glad you asked. The guild sent me here to collect your avian friend here--”
“No.”
“--and the gem.”
“I said no,” Scar practically growled, tapping his cane against the floor. Small green sparks came from it in threat and Scott’s eyes widened before he leaned back and stood, one hand hovered over the hilt to his sword.
“Scar you and I both know this isn’t an option.”
The man’s eyes flashed dangerously as he glared at the elf. “What are you, their pet dog now? I thought you didn’t like working under people.”
Scott’s own eyes narrowed dangerously as his crystals flashed red from under the hood. “I’ll have you know that I’m the major for Saigo.” Grian’s eyes widened further, and his wings dropped again.
“But you’re an adventurer. Just like the rest of us,” he said in disbelief. “You--you meet Jimmy out on a quest. Because you’re an adventurer.”
“Why do you think I have to go away all the time? Why I can’t go on quests very often? Why I am always in the city? Why I have so much money, or why I can afford to live in a cottage just outside of the city?" Scott told him, his wings lowering in disbelief at every question. Each question was like a veil was being lifted from his eyes, like there had been something there which had made it so he didn’t want to question it. Or why he hadn’t made the connection sooner, given how long it used to take him to trust anyone. How hard he still found it even now to let his walls down, to take his armor off. How even at the slightest hint of aggression or danger, he always put it right back on.
“Are you saying you lied to Grian?” Scar growled, leaning forward on his cane, his emerald eyes focus completely on the elf in a cold glare.
“I never said I wasn’t an adventurer.”
“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t! You just never said that you were the major of Saigo.”
“Scar--”
“No. You do not get Grian, and you do not get the gem,” Scar told him in a cold voice, his eyes flashing emerald. Scott just looked at him and sighed before smiling with a shrug of his shoulders.
He came around the table and Grian took a step forward, suddenly on the defensive with his own hand hovering over his sword. Scott eyed him for a moment before looking back up at Scar. He grinned up at the man, although it seemed unnatural. Like he was trying to force I onto his face, as it was a little too wide and didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Scar you and I both know that the guild won’t allow that.” He sighed and looked around the room in an uninterested manner, even though Grian knew that those sharp cat-like eyes were taking in every little detail they could for a possible escape, or a means to defend himself. Or a distraction to escape.
He picked up on of Scar’s trinkets on his desk—a small, purple crystal which carried no magic from what Grian could tell—and twirled it in his hand. “I talked with the guild about it. They said that they wanted both, but I’m sure we can arrive at some kind of deal.”
Scar raised his eyebrow in suspicion and straightened his back. “A deal?”
Seeming to get the response he wanted, Scott smiled back at Scar and set the trinket down. “Yes. A deal. Despite having to do this, I still consider Grian my friend, so I won’t be taking him back, unless he wants to come,” he began to pace back and forth in front of the desk, “He will still be a part of the guild; however, he won’t have to do any quests and we won’t make him do anything. He can live with you, just like you want. A part of the guild only by name.”
“I’m not giving you the gem, if that’s what you're asking for,” Scar told him bluntly.
“But you're not using it, are you?” Scott inquired.
“No because it's too dangerous,” Scar replied matter-of-factly.
“Precisely. So why don’t you give it to us, so we can take care of it?” Scott asked back with a tilt of his head.
“And why should we give you anything?” Grian shot back with a flare of his wings. He contemplated adding an insult to the end of that, but quickly shot the thought down.
Scott turned his narrowed gaze to him. “Because if you don’t, I will get the guild to take you, the Gem, and anything else we find away. We will leave you with nothing behind Scar,” he finished, looking back towards the wizard. Scar seethed, his knuckles to the hand holding his cane white and his emerald eyes practically glowing in threat.
“I won’t let you take Grian, and I won’t let you use the gem,” he growled. Grian watched as Scott tilted his head to the side, a contemplative look on his face. Like there was something about the way Scar had worded it which made him turn it over in his mind.
“You said you won’t let us use the gem?” Scott queried.
“No. Why does it matter?”
“Well, you could use it. You have enough years to spare, don’t you?” Scar watched him through narrowed eyes, his brow furrowed as he processed what the elf was proposing. Scott took this as an opportunity to continue. “I mean, wizards can live for several centuries, just like elves and you're only about three centuries old, right? So, you still have plenty of years to spare.”
Grian stepped forward, finally unsheathing his sword with a hiss and pointing it at Scott’s throat. The blade pushed against the weak, sensitive skin and Scott craned his head back, as if that could pull him further away from the blade. Even though that just gave Grian a larger window to slice the blade right through his neck. However, he didn’t step back and just watched him coolly. But Grian could still see the fear in his eyes, in the way his pupils trembled slightly despite the relaxed expression on his face. It almost made glee curl up within him, made him want to Feed upon that fear.
To be the one in power, to be the one in control. “I won’t let you take any of Scar’s time,” he hissed in a voice so distinctly apathetic that the empty sound of it seemed to push Scott over, who swallowed nervously. His lazy look twitched as he refrained from smiling nervously.
“We won’t be taking all of it,” Scott replied in that same calm tone. How Grian wanted to press that blade, just a little further. To draw just a little blood over the disrespect the elf was showing. How he wanted to strike the real fear of Gods into him, to know that he couldn’t just take away Scar’s life from him. “Only a few decades.”
“How many?” Scar asked in a low voice.
“Hmm. . . maybe. . . seven?”
“Five.”
“Scar, you won’t be missing them!” Scott exclaimed in an exasperated tone. Grian pressed the blade further into his throat, this time drawing blood and the elf instantly recoiled with a small gasp.
“Five, or I take the gem and hide it somewhere you will never find it,” Scar said in a dangerous voice. Scott glared at him through narrowed eyes, although the effect was ruined by his gaze repeatedly flicking toward the blade pressed against his throat, then up at who held it.
“Six, and we give you ten years. Final offer,” Scott told him in as even of a tone he could manage. To anyone else, it would have sounded perfectly even. But to Grian, who had been trained to pick up on even the smallest of tells could hear the slight weaver in his voice through the bundled nerves in his shoulders and hidden deep within his gaze.
Scar tilted his own head in mild confusion. “And why would you do that?” he asked coolly.
“We have someone who we captured. They were affected by a cursed item, and they turned themselves in so they couldn’t hurt anyone.” Scott paused, as if in thought and Scar’s eyebrow quirked up in curiosity.
“A cursed item?”
“Yes. I think you might know him as Ren. Or perhaps the Red King?” Grian blinked, but he kept his face stony cold. He remembered this ‘Red King.’ He had turned him in himself—in fact, Ren had even come to him in the form of a quest. A duel. If Grian won, he would get to take him in without struggle. Ren had even revealed that he would keep posting different iterations of the same quest until someone had won. However, Grian never failed a quest. And so, he had turned the tundra wolf hybrid in, to be locked up deep in a dungeon where he could never hurt anyone.
“Yes?” Scar pushed, the elf now having his curiosity.
“We could have him give you ten of his years in exchange for his freedom, and then you give sixty of your years to six different aristocrats or leaders of our guild in groups of ten. You keep your pet bird, and after that we never come after you again,” Scott told him, this time giving his full attention to Scar. Grian could See the silent plea behind those word, See how Scott was begging for Scar to just take the deal as it was.
However, Scar continued to stare at him, clearly unimpressed. “And why should I take this deal? What am I getting out of this. Why shouldn’t I have Grian kill you right now?” Grian pressed the blade further into Scott’s neck, more blood trickling down it as if to prove Scar’s words. Part of him didn’t want to kill the elf because of how Jimmy cared for him so; however, he had lied to them.
He had lied to all of them, and he was probably using and manipulating them for his own will too. Just to be thrown away like a broken puppet once he was done. He didn’t trust Scott anymore, and he probably wouldn’t ever again. So, the other (much louder) part of him truly didn’t care if the elf lived or died. In fact—the darkest part of him even wanted to hurt Scott. To see the true fear in his eyes and to Feed off that fear, to taste how sweet it would be (he hadn’t Tasted fear in a long time.)
“Because if you don’t, They will come after you and they will take Grian away from you. They will take away all your precious trinkets. They will take everything away from you until you have nothing left and you and I both know this,” Scott told him in a calm voice, despite the implications behind what Scott had said. Perhaps it was the way Scott had said it; but if it had brought a slight tremble into Grian’s hand, that would be something he would be taking with him to his grave. He glared ever more dangerously at Scott, daring him to say anything otherwise. The elf remained quiet as he watched Scar for his response.
“Little birdie?”
The avian hesitated, his gaze flicking from Scott to Scar who watched him coolly, patiently waiting for his response.
“Yes?”
“You can lower the sword.”
Grian’s gaze flicked from Scar to the blade still pressed into Scott’s throat (still drawing a thin line of blood), up to Scott’s face who was watching him, his eyes wide, and back to Scar. Who watched him with a seemingly calm, patient look. However, Grian could still see the anger hidden within those emerald eyes. See how much Scar didn’t want to do this. See how he was doing it on Grian’s behalf; doing it for Grian. He didn’t know why—didn't understand why he would do it.
Especially for someone like him. But he finally sighed, and slowly lowered the sword, slowly putting it back away in its sheath against his hip. From the corner of his eye, he could see Scott deflate slightly, although not much. It wouldn't have even been noticeable to anyone unless they were paying attention.
“So,” Scott breathed, “do we have a deal, Scar Goodtimes?” he held his hand out for Scar to shake, putting a smile a little too sharp at the edges on his face.
Scar held his own hand out and shook it with a firm grasp, a little too sharply. Scott’s crystals flashed yellow in fear, his nerves probably a little too frayed at the edges to try and truly hide his fear any longer. “We have a deal. Major Scott Smajor.”
Grian stood back and watched how the two’s demeanor was at such a stark contrast. How Scar glared down at Scott, his emerald eyes glowing and stormy, anger coiled up within him and seconds away from unleashing itself with a barely restrained frown on his face as he tried to keep up his businessman appearance he had tried to slip into. How Scott smiled up at him, a little too sharp at the edges, his pupils narrowed to slits, almost reminding Grian of how a predator looked at its piece of prey. And yet simultaneously he could see the way tension gathered in his shoulders, see how he was just waiting for his chance to escape from Scar’s gaze, like he too was a piece of prey in the grander scheme of things.
Grian gently flapped his wings, twitched his ear feathers and tapped one of his talons against the floor with a soft click. He had the feeling that despite what Scott had said, that there would be much more to this deal that would leave all their lives hanging in wait of what would unfold as they continued forward from this moment. And Grian couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever that would be, could ruin it all.