Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Though he had no doubt that the others might think otherwise, Zolf hadn’t purposefully chosen his evening spot to have such an unfettered view of crumbling London. There was just a really nice tree.

He had a series of maps and scrolls laid out on his lap, on which he was industriously making notes. Zolf wasn’t the leader. Had no plans to be. But someone needed to make the plans.

On the other side of the tree sat Wilde, mercifully silent. For some goddamn unknown reason, Wilde had procured and brought along a lute. From where? Zolf had no idea. Not like Wilde could even play the sodding thing, and thus, Zolf had suffered through a few hours of awkward, off-key string-plucking.

Better than talking, though. Much, much better than talking. He dunked his quill in the well and scratched out another series of dotted lines and arrows.

Twenty-four hours ago, he’d been trying to attack a giant brain-vein-tree-god. Twenty-four hours ago, they’d saved the world. Twenty-four hours ago, they’d destroyed magic as they knew it.

Zolf mostly blamed himself for that last matter. Sure, the others were there. Yeah. But – he should’ve known. Should’ve figured it out. He rushed forward, he was hasty, and – and – yeah. That was on him. But it was fine, because he’d get the rest of it sorted, and then everything would be fine.

Even if the danger was mostly over, his friends’ locations shone like a beacon in the back of his mind. Azu, trying to pull together supplies for the survivors. Cel, trying to create as many mechanical contraptions as they could. Hamid, being usele –

No. No, that wasn’t fair, and he wasn’t going to think like that. Hamid was worried about his family, and Zolf wasn’t going to fault him for being worried about his family.

Just –

Nope. Not going to think like that.

He let out a determined grunt and continued scratching away at the scroll. Before he’d come up here, he’d been speaking with Cel. There’d been a bit of an ulterior motive, sure. He’d wanted to slide the plans for his new mechanical legs to the bottom of the to-do pile beneath their notice.

Look, the chair? Not ideal, maybe, but it was fine. He’d gotten himself up to the top of this hill, and there wasn’t any big nasties to fight in the future. People needed other things more. Besides, the practice with the chair was good. He’d been meaning to do that. At some point.

Another shrieking note was plucked out of the lute. “The sun’s going down,” Wilde commented idly.

So it was, just touching the horizon. “It does that.” They’d have to head in soon. Sure, he could’ve brought a lantern up here, but they were trying to conserve oil. Nobody had really considered a world in which they couldn’t cast Lightorb (or whatever the fuck, Zolf didn’t care) at any opportunity.

His fault. Least he could do was not waste oil. He’d keep writing in his room, later on, and then give the plans to the scout groups in the morning. Rebuilding was a long ways off, but they needed to find supplies, scavenge for –

“So.” Wilde started up again, letting it trail off. Sooo. “You met a god?”

“Ah. Eh.” Hard to say, really. “Big all-powerful stupid thing who didn’t listen to reason, so yeah, I suppose we did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

That made Zolf blink. They weren’t really the do you want to talk about it sort of people. In fact, they’d pretty much survived the past few years by not talking about it. Given all that had happened, this seemed a strange topic to land upon. “Not much to say, really,” Zolf said truthfully. “It was purposefully obtuse and would’ve talked in circles for hours.” A pause. “You two would’ve gotten on great.”

He heard Wilde titter behind him; another note was plucked. Zolf spared a glance over his shoulder and saw nothing but the back of Wilde’s white head. “Oh, no, I’m glad I didn’t get a chance to meet them,” Wilde went on. “If I met something truly divine, or the arbitrator of our existence, or the causes of all our ills, or whatever Myriad was, I don’t think I’d ever put quill to parchment ever again.”

It wasn’t clicking. “Why?”

“Why would I?” He heard the scraping of fabric against wood as Wilde shrugged. “I’d have figured the big questions out. There’d be no point.”

He was pretty sure this was that poet-author bullshit that he never really understood. Something else was catching his attention, anyway. “You think you’re going to write again? Just like that?”

After everything he’d seen Wilde do, after the role Wilde had been forced to play … seemed odd that he’d be reading Wilde’s newspaper articles again.

“I think I might like to, yes. Been thinking about it. It’s nice to think about it, you should give it a try sometime.”

Wilde couldn’t see Zolf’s glare, but Zolf knew he felt it just the same.

“Might be nice to see if my old flat’s still standing. You all are invited to stay, of course,” he added airily, “When we wear out our welcome with the others. I was just thinking how fun it’ll be to throw a party again.”

“A party?” Zolf was pretty sure he hadn’t thought of a party in ages. Forgot people did that. “I don’t want to go to a party.”

“Yes, yes,” Wilde tsked, “I’d forgotten how different we are.”

Zolf hadn’t. No other pompous twat could rile him up like Wilde could. He leaned back against the tree. He hadn’t much thought of after, nor had he seriously considered the possibility that he and Wilde – he and everybody – might be separated again. All go their separate ways.

That’d be fine. Probably deserved, after all he’d done. The last time he was in an adventuring party, he’d removed magic from the world as they all knew it … so maybe it was best for him to be alone. Just pick a direction and walk.

Wilde shifted on the other side of the tree. “This might be the end of the line for us, then,” he sighed with some dramatics. “Simply too different to continue our partnership. Well, Zolf Smith, it was a pleasure knowing you.”

Something inside Zolf began to bubble and fester, making him nauseated. Where’d that come from?

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a pale hand. Wilde had reached his hand behind him to offer a handshake. A farewell handshake.

He stared at Wilde’s hand, incredibly familiar to him. Zolf recalled, one night in the depths of their misery, walking in on Wilde breaking down at his desk. Through a combination of too many sleepless nights and ungodly amounts of stress, Wilde had managed to convince himself that the blue veins in his wrist were – well – Blue Veins. Zolf had got his own wrist out, showed him, soothed him. They hadn’t talked about it. Didn’t need to.

It’d been years. Maybe they’d started to bond over their situation, sure, but when it came down to it? Zolf didn’t want to leave him. Zolf didn’t always like Wilde, but he always wanted Wilde close to him. He never wanted to not know where Wilde was again.

And, yeah, he did love him, but –

But the fucking wank was starting to laugh!?

Wilde took back his hand, barely able to contain himself. “I really got you there, didn’t I?” He asked merrily and peeked out from behind the tree. There were tears in the corners of his eyes. “Thought we’d have a magnificent farewell under the sunset?”

Zolf had, unfortunately, been got. He had never admitted to being got, and he wasn’t going to start now. “Oh, for fuck’s – I mean – you would!” Zolf insisted, glaring at Wilde over his shoulder. “That’d exactly be the sort of thing you would do, because you’re an excessively dramatic dickhead – “

“Without an audience?” Wilde gestured towards the sweeping horizon. “I would never.”

He really wanted to say something cutting, and fervent, and maybe even witty. As it was, all Zolf could manage was a series of disgruntled grumbles and mutters about where Wilde ought to stick a great many things.

The man himself stood and walked to Zolf’s side of the tree. Of course he still looked exhausted – a day wasn’t enough to fix that. A year might not have been. Still, Zolf saw a lightness in his spirit that simply hadn’t been there before. A genuine sparkle in his eye.

Made him happy. Maybe Zolf didn’t deserve that, maybe he was a dickhead here. But. Seeing Wilde grin genuinely made him happy.

“I doubt my flat’s still standing, anyway,” Wilde remarked. “This might be a perfect time to go looking together.”

“Might do. Can’t imagine your last one was fit to have a half-dozen people roaming around.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Though Wilde’s tone was airy, Zolf caught him keeping a concerned eye out as he pushed himself back into his wheelchair. “I don’t think I’ve told you the story of – “

“Believe me. You’ve told me every bloody story of everything that ever happened in your flat. I don’t need to hear it again.”

It was nothing short of a pout, though quickly wiped off. “Fresh start, anyway,” he waved Zolf off and gathered up some of the scrolls on the ground. “Not like things are going to calm down for a while. Always work to be done, eh?”

Wilde had asked that question many times before. Never with such … enthusiasm, though. It was good to see.

Things were better. Maybe, just for now, he could focus on that.

“Yeah,” Zolf replied back, and he surprised himself with the hope in his voice. “Yeah, suppose it is. Good to have something, ehm, good.” Together, they started their short trek back to the safehouse.

“Spoken like a true poet,” Wilde praised, and – despite Zolf’s initial suspicions – he spoke earnestly.

Chapter Text

Hamid needed somewhere to cry right now.

He bustled through crowded hallways. It was less ‘nudging people aside’ and more ‘ducking under limbs whilst murmuring quick apologies.’ In the past twenty four hours, this safehouse and its surrounding buildings had become de fact home base for most of the survivors. All well and good – people deserved to know what was going on – but, despite his history, he wasn’t all that keen to break down in front of strangers. Not right now.

Most of the morning and afternoon had been spent scavenging and doling out supplies. And Hamid didn’t slack off, thanks. If he just scavenged closer to the edges of the city, where he might see a messenger … or if he helped Cel with their technologies to try and send a message out there …

That was his business!

Besides. Hadn’t come to anything, had it? They didn’t have the faintest idea how the rest of the world was doing. Whether his family was –

Hamid let out a strangled whimper as he searched for an empty room. It involved a lot of opening doors, making awkwardly intense eye contact with the survivors within, and hurrying off. He could scarcely swallow around the lump in his throat.

On top of it all, it felt like something had been carved right out of him. He just wanted to fly, far away from here – maybe it was for the best that he didn’t. He was needed here, too.

Eventually, he came upon a slightly dusty door at the end of the hall. Upon throwing it open, he saw that it was in fact a broom closet – and it was occupied.

By the one person that Hamid really didn’t mind crying in front of.

“Azu!” He cried out.

In return, his friend lifted her head from her hands. She was sitting on the floor, taking up most of the room in the admittedly small closet. Upon making eye contact, she held her arms out wide. Hamid eagerly accepted.

He flung himself into his friends arms, and the tears finally came.

They both cried against one another for an eternity.

The thing was, Hamid knew exactly how the others were coping: Skraak and Cel and Zolf, anyway. Skraak and Cel were both in the laboratory, trying to pull together whatever they could to save humanity. And Zolf was probably off being an emotionally strained grump who blamed himself for everything. Which was fine, of course, Hamid wasn’t in a position to criticize their coping strategies …

But sometimes people just needed to cry, okay!?

He held onto Azu by her armor and Azu practically engulfed him, squeezing him tight. It was only when Hamid was certain that he had no more tears left to shed that he leaned back – not enough to disentangle himself, but enough that he wouldn’t get a mouthful of Azu Shoulder when he tried to speak.

“W-what …” He sniffed. “What are you crying about?”

Azu’s lower lip quivered. “Hamid, I can’t … I can’t feel Aphrodite anymore. She’s not with me anymore.”

It wasn’t a recent realization, he knew that, but it’d only been 24 hours. That wasn’t enough time to process such a thing, much less try and move past it. Hamid didn’t have any sort of divine deity looking out for him, but even he felt the loss of his magic.

“I’m so sorry, Azu,” Hamid babbled, thrusting his face against her neck. “I’m so sorry.”

What else was there to say?

Azu shuddered against him and went on. “What am I supposed to do?” She whispered, as if to herself. “I can’t – I can’t heal people, Hamid. People are hurting, and I don’t know what I can do to help. Aphrodite’s not with me, so I don’t know what I can … what I can … “

With that, Hamid had plenty more to say. Anger and righteous indignation shot through him at the very idea.

“No,” Hamid said thickly, pulling away from her neck. He put both of his hands on either of Azu’s shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. His eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Azu, you’re the – you’re the kindest, most compassionate, most selfless person I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re helping people now, even without Aphrodite’s help. You … you were gathering supplies, mending wounds … “ He sniffed. The words got easier as he went along. “And it really … it really sucks that we don’t have our magic. But you’re incredible without it, and you’re going to help so many people just by being Azu.”

Hamid thought he was all out of tears, but he wasn’t. More trickled down his cheeks. “You’re so bi-i-ig,” he practically sobbed, scarcely intelligible. “And strong.”

After that, it didn’t much matter what he had to say, because Azu had crushed him against her chest yet again. Fine by Hamid! He was comfortable there. Things hurt less there. Maybe they could sleep like this, right here, and maybe when he woke up, things would be better.

“Your family’s going to be okay, Hamid,” Azu reassured after a second passed. “I’m sure they are. They were out of the thick of it, they were safe, and they’re – if they’re anything at all like you, I’m sure they’re all okay. I’m sure they’re all worried about you, too.”

Bizarrely, that thought – that his family worried about him, too, that they were out there somewhere, alive and okay enough to worry about foolish little Hamid – gave him some comfort.

“I really hope so. I just … I just wish I could talk to them.”

“Give it some time, okay? I’m sure Cel will create something that’ll let us talk to everybody. We just have to give it some time.” Azu finally pulled away, offering Hamid a kind smile. “And hold it together, alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, hold it together.” People still needed him not to fall to pieces, after all. Maybe one day, there’d be a future where he could just bask. It’d be nice to feel the wind in his wings again, but that might be impossible. “You too, okay?”

Azu bobbed her head up and down. “Yeah,” she sighed, after a moment. “Yeah. You’re … you’re right, Hamid. I can still help. So can you. So can everyone else. We’ll just all look out for each other, and everything will be fine.”

The part of Hamid that spent too much time with Zolf whispered that it sounded like Azu was trying to convince herself.

Hamid wanted to have more hope than that.

He pushed himself off of Azu with wobbly legs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Right,” he agreed. “I’m glad someone understands how I feel. Feels the same way I do.”

Because, in the kindest way possible, if he only had Zolf, Cel, or Skraak to confide in … he’d lose his mind.

Azu still sat there with a smile on. She had twin tear tracks running down her face, but no fresh ones, and that was enough. “Well, it makes sense,” she remarked. “You’re my best friend, Hamid.”

His body genuinely had run out of tears. Otherwise, he’d be on the floor again. Now, he just felt wrung-out. Exhausted. Grief-stricken, even. He wanted to go lay down, but he wasn’t going to leave Azu here. Hamid held out his hand.

Azu took it (mostly to be nice), and then proceeded to get up of her own strength.

“You’re my best friend too, Azu,” he whispered, wiping away the last of the tears. Azu went to open the door, and together they stepped into the hallway.

It was quieter, now. People were shuffling off to bed. Nobody wanted to scavenge in the middle of the dark, not while burning oil. Not when they didn’t know what still lurked out there, if anything. Hamid looked forward to crashing, himself.

“Things are going to be okay,” Azu promised in the darkness, as the pair started towards their beds. “Things are going to be much better, Hamid.”

And Hamid, aching as he was, believed her.

Chapter Text

It was exactly 4:34 in the morning. Clocks still worked. Thank stars, clocks still worked.

The thing was, you never really sat down and thought about how many everyday appliances ran on magic. Well, that was, until all the magic went zpt. Speaking stones? Gone. Bags of holding? Collapsed. Potions? Fancy water.

Of course, Cel was a scientist first and foremost. They knew how things worked. Just had to take the ‘magic’ part of the equation out and shove something else in there. Electricity. Wind. Really conductive potatoes. Fungi. Gunpowder. More electricity. Heat. Sometimes it worked. Most times it didn’t. That was just the scientific method in action.

It wasn’t their preferred workshop, but once Cel stepped foot into the laboratory, they hadn’t left it. Parts were scattered across worktables, parts were scattered under worktables, parts were in Cel’s apron, parts were in Cel’s hair. Blueprints were stacked up high. They were pretty sure they planned on making Mr. Smith some new legs, but where had those blueprints even gotten to? Skraak, maybe. Would ask in morning.

Cel had ushered Skraak out at midnight, and then again at two in the morning. Thankfully, it seemed that Skraak had finally gotten the hint about needing to sleep. Cel could carry on. They hoped that, by the morning, they’d have a no-magic-needed radio device. Check on their old friends. Check on Prague. Check on a couple of bits and bobs.

They’d had plenty of help earlier in the evening, but now, it was all Cel. That was fine. Something nice, working on things alone. You got used to doing plenty of things alone. Not saving the world, no, they were really happy to have company when it came to that. Strangest thing. A giant tree. Not veins at all. Well, sort of veins. What were roots but veins of nature? Hm.

Their hair and face was stained with soot. Whoops. Couldn’t make eggs without cajoling a few chickens. It happened.

Thing was, people needed help, didn’t they? And they were depending on science-minded folks like Cel. People who could make things without magic. Nobody ever thought – it’d be like waking up and the moon was gone. Actually, that was an interesting philosophical question, the effects on the tides alone –

No! No. They had to focus. So many people were depending on them. They had to step up, and that was what they’d do, and …

Cel was momentarily distracted by the sound of the laboratory door open and the shuffling of reptilian feet. “Now, Skraak,” they got out, keeping their eyes on the worktable. “You’ve got to go and get your sleep, little buddy. It’s late.”

“It’s four in the morning,” he grumbled. A flash of scales appeared by their elbow. “You should be getting some sleep.”

“No, no, no, no,” they insisted. “I’ve got things to be done.” Cel pointed towards their tower of blueprints. “Look at my blueprint tower. I’ve got to keep fixing things.”

Skraak let out a noise of displeasure. “And what if we wake up in the morning and things are back to normal? You said --”

“Normal!?” Cel practically squawked, already gesticulating. “I – I mean – probabilities aside, what is normal anymore, Skraak? Is it back when we still had the blue veins? Is it back before everything got bad? Is it when we still had magic? I really don’t think that – “

Something closed around their wrist, cutting them off. Cel looked down at their hand. A shackle was placed upon it – and at the other end of the chain, encircling Skraak’s shoulder (being much too large for his wrist), was the other end.

“I-is this Wilde’s?”

Skraak pointedly ignored the question. “Either we both go to sleep,” he reasoned, “Or we both stay up. But I’m not letting you do this alone.”

“W-what? But - “ Cel shook their head. They had so much work to do, and – “Skraak, come on.”

“And what am I meant to do?” Skraak jangled the shackle between them, rattling the iron against the table. “Watch you work yourself dead? No. They need science. They don’t need you.”

Sure, it sounded harsh, but the more Cel turned it over in their mind … it was kind of a balm, they thought. If they didn’t need them, then the world wouldn’t end while they slept. They could get back to work in the morning. Skraak would help. The others could help. And they couldn’t operate like this forever, and this would go on … not forever, hopefully not, definitely not, but a very long time.

They looked back down. “Have you got the key for these?”

Skraak shook his head fiercely in the negative.

They’d be harassing Wilde in the morning, then, or getting Azu to axe them apart. That was alright. Might even be a fun breakfast activity.

“Just a half hour more,” they relented. “I just want to finish this. And then we’ll sleep, okay?”

Skraak gave a shrug from his spot on the ground, and then pulled himself up to rest on the table. Gave him more maneuverability with the tools, what with the short shackle change. “It’s your call, boss,” Skraak chirped, pulling the blueprints closer to him.

“It’s your call, partner,” Cel corrected instinctively.

Forty minutes later, they were curled up on a collection of blankets and pillows in the corner of the workshop. There had been five minutes of arguing about whose bedroom they would sleep in, and this seemed an adequate compromise. Cel had vague visions of turning over in their sleep and accidentally slamming Skraak into the ground, but they’d have to risk it.

On the table was another new invention and another rolled-up blueprints. Spare parts were still scattered like a bomb had gone off, and Cel knew that they’d be back at it the moment they woke up again.

It felt good to work. Felt good to start to rebuild. Whatever happened next – however the world changed – Cel would be there, and their friends would be there, and they’d do their best. That was all anyone could ask.

Still, too, it felt good to finally rest after a long, weary day. It felt good to feel the soft blankets and pillows beneath their bones, and to know that their friends were safe for another night. The future was still scary, but plenty of things in Cel’s life were scary.

A brighter sort of scary, though. A sort of scary that ended up being very helpful, like high voltages or shooting stars or fierce, lifelong friendships. Skraak cuddled into their chest, already snoring softly on the pillows. Their chained hands curled between them.

They could deal with this. The world wasn’t ending, and control had been given back. Cel was ready to see what awaited them in the morning.