dorian pavus (necromantical) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-08-24 22:06:00 |
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It was a rare day off for Bodhi. They didn’t come often and, really, they were more stressful than most people’s days off were (working for yourself had a lot of downsides and ‘idle time’ equaling ‘time not making money’ was one of them), but it was nice to be able to do something with his day. Normally he was up with the sun, already planning his route for the day, checking bus time tables and drinking his way through a pot of coffee, but today he’d been allowed to sleep in until his flatmates got up themselves. He felt well rested and planned on having a leisurely day, perhaps strolling around the neighborhood, getting some shopping done, running some errands that had been put off for far too long. He fully intended it to be a nice day. So, of course, it went to hell. Quite literally, if the thing Bodhi was running for his life from was any indication. He ducked down a few side streets, into a narrow alley, and scrambled over a fence bisecting the alley, which seemed to finally stop the creature. Or at least, that one. If there was one creepy shambling corpse thing (not a zombie, that was just too much for Bodhi to deal with right now, compartmentalizing that one right up and locking it away in the ‘thoughts to panic about later’ box) then there had to be more. He just had to get home. Or at the very least, somewhere safe. Bodhi poked his head out of the alley and cautiously looked around. Everything seemed clear, but as he stepped out, another one of those things appeared, rushing at him out of another alley. Bodhi screamed. Loudly. Then he covered his head and he ran as fast as he could, fight-or-flight instinct kicking in and sending him fleeing in the opposite direction of this not-zombie thing. Gone were all thoughts of getting home, of getting somewhere safe, of perhaps, even, fighting back. Right now, he just wanted to get away. It was good timing too, because as soon as Bodhi rushed out of the alley he ran into someone else - that person happened to be Dorian, who didn’t do flea markets. God, no. He wouldn’t be scouring for linens amongst bargain bin shoppers and peddlers of elephant ears and hot dogs. When he wanted to browse for antiques to potentially add to his tastefully decorated Indian-themed, Western-themed home, he went to a place he knew was legit. A place located in a historical building from the year 1886, a place where antiques were imported from France and England - many unique treasures from the past, his favorites coming from the 19th century, some even before. In his arms, he carried a beautiful piece of stained glass wrapped in cloth. Now, after being slammed into, that stained glass was basically dust on the ground. Shattered. No hope of repair. He was about to rip this person a new asshole, but then he saw it was Bodhi. He knew Bodhi - the adorable, if somewhat nervous bike courier who appeared to have very bad luck. Ergo, Dorian bit back the scathing remarks and just planned to properly mourn the loss of this antique over a glass of wine later. “What’s going on?” he asked, steadying the man after collision - which was quite the impact, really. “Are you - “ Then he saw it. The creatures ambling toward them at a surprisingly fast pace - they looked hungry, whatever they were. Fat, yes, but also hungry. And shirtless, though at least the monsters of the day had on pants. So that was something. “I’m - I’m sorry, that sounded - I didn’t mean - “ Bodhi stammered, looking at the now-broken thing on the ground (he had no clue what it was but it looked expensive, and he’d feel terrible about it later, but for now - ). Bodhi glanced over his shoulder and now there were even more of the things and his breath quickened. “We have to go,” he said, grabbing Dorian’s hand and pulling him down the street, eyes desperate and scanning for a way out, or at the very least somewhere safe to hide. “Do you know what those things are?” he asked over his shoulder, voice tight with a little panic. “And don’t say zombies, I’m not ready to accept zombies yet.” “If they’re zombies, they’re the ugliest ones I’ve ever seen,” Dorian replied hastily and oh, alright - he was yanked along for a stroll, fair enough, and pleased that his arm didn’t become separated from the shoulder socket. Quite a grip Bodhi had there. “Then again, I’ve only ever seen zombies on The Walking Dead. So no, I haven’t any idea what those are.” He’d had a couple of strange dreams, that he could recall, and he didn’t live under a rock - he recognized that chatter involving correlations between ‘dreams’ and ‘unexplainable bullshit’ was very much a thing in this part of California. Where the weed grew freely and the LSD flowed like a river. This area wasn’t one he was as familiar with - he’d only come around to have a look at that antique shop (rest in pieces, stained glass) so he was essentially planning to just keep up and follow Bodhi’s lead. But of course another appeared, leaping from behind a parked car and causing Dorian to skid to a stop, startling him. A chill wracked his bones and he let go of Bodhi’s hand only for a blast of something distinctly wintry, something frigid to form between his palms and shoot off. What was once a monster (this one was skinnier, at least - more skeletal?) was now a frozen zombie-sicle. “No idea what that was either,” he added, but more ambling creatures were behind them, so. “Hang on, I’ll try that again.” Well, if Bodhi hadn’t believed in whatever weird stuff happened around here, watching a guy freeze a not-zombie without touching it was certainly a convincing argument, though Dorian seemed just as confused about it as he was. “Uh,” was all he managed, continuing to stare at the not-zombie-cicle. “Is - is that going to be enough to get rid of it?” ...not that it much mattered, all they needed was to stop the horde (was it big enough to be a horde yet?) for long enough for the two of them to find somewhere to hole up until someone else managed to take care of the not-zombies or they ate their fill and disappeared back into their graves or wherever it was they came from. Thankfully, the freezing seemed to be working and it gave Bodhi enough time to think, to plan, to figure out where to go. He was good under pressure (at least until there was too much pressure, i.e. a not-zombie trying to eat his brains) so it only took him a few moments to come up with a plan. “There’s a - a shop, I know the owner. The back room should be pretty safe. It’s close enough, I can get us there. Good?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Dorian to make sure. If turning a zombie into an ice sculpture wasn’t enough to get rid of it, then Dorian didn’t really want to know what would - decapitation, maybe? Always aim for the head? He wasn’t wearing the right clothes for this. But even so, whatever happened - magic, whispered the voice he really didn’t feel like paying attention to at the moment - was a decent enough offensive weapon for the time being. Now it was a matter of repeating that. “Trying to get me alone in the back room of a shop, hmm?” he teased, looking around the side of the parked car currently acting as a handy barrier and flexing his fingers - and there was the sound of ice cracking, a flash of light; he must have thrown another burst of otherworldly magic at the pursuing zombie because it too froze, becoming an unmoving statue. How curious indeed. “I’d prefer a five-star hotel, but this shop you know of will do. So, alright, good, lead the way - I’ll cover you.” With his magic. “Can you flirt with me after we’re not in immediate danger?” Bodhi snapped, and then winced. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I’m just - “ He watched Dorian freeze another of those things and gulped. Right. Probably shouldn’t piss off the guy who could throw ice. Instead, Bodhi just grabbed him again and ran. Out in the open street was nervewracking and he breathed a little easier ducking down a side street. It was narrow enough that they didn’t have to worry about the not-zombies popping out of nowhere at them, and gave his mind a little bit of peace. Enough peace to realize just how weird spontaneous ice magic (if it was magic - just like zombies, Bodhi wasn’t quite ready to accept magic) really was. “Did you know that you could do that?” he asked. “The - the ice thing, whatever that was?” “Are you always this rough with people who flirt with you during times of immediate danger?” Dorian wheezed as he was grabbed, off and running once more. Not that he was complaining - he knew it wasn’t the time to leisurely saunter, however his brain was perhaps a bit rattled. Honestly, there were about a thousand different ways to say ‘I like it a little rough’ but he’d hold off on that. For later. The question wasn’t immediately answered, as they zig-zagged and sped their way toward whatever shop Bodhi was leading them toward (Dorian couldn’t wait), since he concentrated on flinging the lone spell he seemed to know at anything that tried to get in their way. “I - no,” he finally responded. “I didn’t know I could do it here. But I studied a plethora of other spells in a dream once.” He’d been very talented, yes - but arrogant and boastful, challenging his classmates at the Circle to duels (and winning them). No wonder he’d been tossed out for being a shit. Bodhi flushed and dropped Dorian’s hand with a mumbled apology, but kept his pace up, glancing over his shoulder nervously and peering around every corner they came to. He trusted Dorian to have his back (least of all because Dorian was trailing after him, so anything that tried to get to him would have to go through Dorian first), but he still couldn’t help but check. “You learned that from just one dream?” he asked, surprised. From the way some people made it sound, knowing how to do whatever this not-magic stuff was was a hard thing, not something learned quite literally overnight. Color Bodhi impressed. Coming to an intersection into another major street, Bodhi reached back and put a hand on Dorian’s chest to still him. “Okay, across this street and down that alley - “ he pointed, “and we’ll be there. Are you doing okay?” Did magic take up a lot of energy or something? Bodhi had no clue but he’d like to not find out the hard way. Dorian chuckled a little. He was dramatic, but certainly fine - the adrenaline rush was even a little bit, dare he even think it, exciting? “Quite alright,” he promised. “It was just one...spell. Apparently. I seem to dream of knowing more. It’s literally in my blood.” The Altus they were called - the highest class of practicing mages, the purest, the most skilled. These were the ones who became Magisters, who dove into the political arena and swam with the sharks - kill or be killed was a way of life for vipers raised from the cradle. It already gave him a headache. Already he felt the pressure from his family to reproduce and carry on the line, even in those dreams. Not pleasant. Aha, and sanctuary lay ahead. No pursuit by frozen zombies though, which was a good sign. Hunkering down until the coast was really clear seemed like the best idea. “Still following you,” he added, and cheekily found Bodhi’s hand again - not dropping it. Just because he needed direction, across the street, oh woe! “I can’t imagine what it’s like,” Bodhi said. And he couldn’t. The thought that he could, even in his dreams, be extraordinary enough to do magic...that was just completely bizarre to him. To be born to do it was even farther outside the realm of his imagination. And then to have it manifest here, in the real world? Completely impossible, for him, anyway. Someone like Dorian made it seem reasonable, and he seemed to do it quite easily. Bodhi wasn’t jealous, but only because he knew that he had no reason to be; he would never be able to do things like that. It was just how his life was. But what he could do was get them to safety. That at least he could manage. So he squeezed Dorian’s hand for comfort, and reassurance, and to make sure that he was still there and hanging on, and he ran. Only a few hundred feet (and some quick talking with whichever employee was in there) and they were golden. It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be (not to mention, if Dorian tried to invoke something wintry when they weren’t overcome by an adrenaline rush, he wasn’t sure he could even cast the spell on command). But he could talk about that later - now was not the time to wax poetic about these circumstances he was remembering. Another time and place, perhaps, a life spent void of love and companionship because the upper class didn’t care about those weak, petty things - and also drowning in alcohol. Into the shop they went, and Dorian would just let Bodhi handle the talking since he claimed to know the owner. Where even were they? He had to admit he hadn’t even noticed much, his head still swimming from having pulled magic from the Fade in sort of a startling, uncomfortable way. “We’re alright to hunker down in the back, then?” he asked, smoothing the front of his shirt. Oh yes, he was perfectly fine. Of course. The door of the shop was locked but after banging on it, the owner’s wife (a woman who had only introduced herself as ‘Mama’ and who always insisted on trying to feed him) came to see what the commotion was, gun in hand and steely look in her eye. But upon seeing him, she was quick to let them in. They made quick conversation while she made sure he was safe and eyed Dorian suspiciously, but Bodhi confirmed that he was a friend, that he’d kept him safe while they were running, and that he needed a place to stay. Bodhi nodded to Dorian that they were good to go and reached for his hand again to pull him along. The back room wasn’t very big thanks to all of the product stored back there, and with two employees, Mama, and the two of them back there, it was a tight fit. But it was infinitely better than running from zombies. Now that they were safe, Bodhi couldn’t keep the terrifying thought of the world is ending holy SHIT we’re going to be eaten by zombies at bay and dug his nails into his palms to keep the panic that brought on to a low enough level that he seemed okay. He was shaking but he told himself it was just the adrenaline wearing off. Mama offered them each a bag of chips and a soda and told them to try and find somewhere comfortable, and Bodhi slotted himself into a corner. The solid wall at his back made him feel a little better, at least, and he gave Mama a shaky smile in thanks and nodded to Dorian to sit as well. Well, wasn’t this quaint. Dorian would politely forgo chips and soda (both terrible for the waistline and teeth) - though he did take both with a thank you, simply because he didn’t want to be rude and refuse the offer. “Here, you can have mine,” he said, sliding down against the wall to sit next to Bodhi, giving him the soda. “The sugar rush might help. Don’t want you passing out or anything.” Right, comfort. He was terrible at this - awkward, and stunted, because while he knew how to be charming and flirtatious, what went beyond that wasn’t anything he was used to. Mostly he just didn’t get close to people - there was a difference between winning a case for someone and simply being there for them. Attorneys weren’t known for their warmth and soothing demeanor, after all. “It’s going to be alright - I gather this sort of thing happens often, and people band together. See?” He held his phone in his hand and stuck that arm around Bodhi, both hands coming together in front to scroll through the network so they both had a view of the screen. “An unfortunate....dream crossover.” Bodhi shook his head at the offer. “You need to eat, you just did - “ he glanced at the others and lowered his voice. “You’re the one that got us here, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.” Shaky, terrified, riding the edge of a panic attack, but fine. Well that definitely wasn’t comforting, even seeing that others were going through it too. “The dreams can do this?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low. “Fuck. How have I never noticed this before?” Granted, thinking back on the various strange things he’d noticed since coming to the OC, none had quite ever been zombies. “Probably because it’s always written off as something else - and people see what they want to see,” Dorian shrugged. Yes, humans were surprisingly compliant when they were told that, oh, it was simply a global warming crisis rather than a tornado from literally another world - much easier to accept and digest. Cognitive dissonance hurt the brain, you see. He sighed, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Yet people still live here. I suppose you could move, now knowing what you know. But that seems a bit like running - and while obviously bad things happen, I would be willing to bet good things do too.” The good must make things like this worth everything else - or else wouldn’t the area be vacant? Food for thought. And alright, yes, food. He honestly detested snacks like this but he’d eat if it made Bodhi feel better. “And you’re the one who got us here,” he added, carefully twisting the cap off the soda bottle so it wouldn’t spew everywhere. “It was a joint effort, I’d say. Besides, if I’d arrived here alone, your friend up front would have surely kicked me out.” No wonder Bodhi made friends like Mama - he was just too fucking adorable. Thinking back, there had been odd things that Bodhi remembered now, things that had been written off as out of control Hollywood stunts or a weird form of viral advertising or just an abnormal weather pattern. Things he’d never questioned. Granted, he usually didn’t. Why bother, right? Looked like he might need to bother, now. “Good or bad, I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” he admitted. “London couldn’t offer me any more than this place does, but I can at least pretend that I have potential here.” It stung a little to say it, even though it was the truth. “Joint effort,” he agreed; he doubted Mama would have turned Dorian away if he’d knocked, but, and no offense to Dorian here, Bodhi highly doubted a man as buttoned up as Dorian was would have looked at this little bodega and decided to take refuge there. He’d have found somewhere, of course, Bodhi had no doubt. Maybe somewhere closer to where they’d been, where he wouldn’t have had to run through the streets like that. Had Bodhi just put them needlessly at risk? He gritted his teeth against the thoughts - it’s the panic talking, you know it is, Dorian would have spoken up if he’d known anywhere better, just stop thinking about it. “If you’re still hungry, I know they have sandwiches sometimes, I can see if there’s something there?” he offered, mostly to make himself feel better about taking Dorian to a dingy place like this. This was the world that Bodhi was used to, homey but cramped spaces with dirty floors and unhealthy food made delicious through proximity to people who cared for him. It wasn’t the type of place that he imagined Dorian went often, and if the man weren’t right next to him, he wouldn’t be able to imagine it either. Maker, no. Dorian didn’t come to places like these. The aura about him put the ‘snoot’ in Snooty McSnooterson - but it was simply his pedigree, his background, the way he carried himself. It wasn’t like he rudely looked down on other people (he tried not to) and, really, he thought most of his estranged family were needlessly stuck-up anyway. But he did have fine tastes, was all. “I’m fine,” he insisted with a chuckle, patting Bodhi’s hand. “Really. I would tell you otherwise.” Oh, and he would - talk to Dorian for five seconds, and you’d realize he wasn’t the type to be quiet if he was displeased. “It’s actually...somewhat nice. The company makes it so. Though I do owe you a drink, don’t I? In a bar not crawling with zombies. Maybe dinner too.” “If you’re sure,” Bodhi said with a nod. “And I’ll take you up on that. When there’s not as much risk of my brain being eaten.” |