Work Text:
Harvey is once again walking down the stairs leading to the Wolf’s Den. Dusk is settling, wind colder around him with the sun disappearing behind the mountains. He took an unwelcome bath in the Henbane River, trying to cross upstream and evade the incessant patrols. His current state is pitiful, shivering under damp clothes, muscles from his shoulders aching and seizing uncontrollably from cramps. He deposits his weapons and backpack near the entrance and heads for the kitchen, hoping for food. Hoping for more, if he’s honest. A real meal, company, friendly chat across a table. Something close to that if possible.
All of that dream becomes true when he reaches the bigger room. Eli, Tammy and Wheaty gathered around a rich smelling meal, chatting low and peaceful between bites. He hesitates a second, mindful about intruding where he doesn’t belong but Eli catches his gaze and gestures for him to come closer. In a minute he has his own plate full a steaming stew, a piece a white bread near it and a fork and knife in each hand. Comfort is immediate, the hot meat and juice and the warm voices around him. Eli is asking about Tammy’s progress, she’s answering with a pleased tone because they have a new location for a cult conversion camp.
And then Wheaty asks about what they will do with the prisoner.
Tammy responds casually it’s been taken care of.
Harvey’s slow mind finally links all the information around him. He’s not an idiot and he saw Tammy’s torture room from his first time waking up in the Wolf’s Den. He’s no innocent either, killing cultists by the dozen. But right now, partway through his meal with these people, hope of the Whitetail region, he’s suddenly so disgusted by what they’re doing. What they’ve all become, himself included. He finishes the stew, sponges the sauce with the bread and chews on it slowly. He has to preserve his strength. But it all tastes like ashes of a world already gone.