Somewhere in Raven's Crazy-Ass Netherverse Maze, Saturday Night, Fandom Time
Older Warren
In his cell, it was dark. It had been dark for about as far back as he could remember, though if that was days or months or weeks or years, Warren couldn't tell. There was no daylight filtering into his cell. There was no sky.
For a while, he'd been able to close his eyes and remember what the sky looked like. She'd taken it away from him, but he still had his mind.
And then she'd taken his wings away, and even as they grew back so that she could take them again, he could feel the last shreds of hope that he had, slipping through his fingers. Partially-formed wings hung limply behind him, already mangled feathers dragging in the dust, his pride gruesomely ripped away and worn as a trophy by a madwoman, a demon.
In his cell, it was dark. And in his head, he couldn't even remember what the blue of the sky looked like anymore.
Karla
Moving slow and silent, sticking to the shadows as best she could to avoid fights and further delays, Karla felt like she'd been wandering through the twisting, winding halls of Raven's creepy palace for forever. Everything was designed to confuse, to delay--she couldn't even trust to her psychic scent to lead her to either Warren or the other her because Raven had done something to confuse that, too.
There was a soft rustling coming from down the corridor. It might have been the uniform of yet another patrolling skull-faced creature...but Karla thought it almost sounded like feathers. Maybe it was wishful thinking? But she didn't have anything better to go by, anyway.
"Warren?" Barely a whisper. "Is that you?" A ball of blue witchlight sprang into hand; she shielded it with the other to keep too much light from spreading beyond her feet. She followed the corridor until she found a scent she could identify.
Blood. Old blood and new. And beneath that...cornchips?
"Warren?"
Warren
For all that he'd tried to cling to sanity, now he was hearing voices. Not possible. There was no way this was possible. Especially not that voice.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and curled himself into a tighter ball in the corner of his cell, holding his breath and praying to whatever god would listen that whatever it was that was calling his name, it was only in his head. None of his visitors around here were the sort that he wanted to hear from, generally. Better insane than not alone.
There was a noise, somewhere deep in his throat, that wasn't quite a whimper of protest. But it was a near thing. She couldn't take them again. He couldn't stand to lose them again. There wasn't even enough feather to them to flaunt, this soon. Leave him alone. Alone alone alone...
Karla
The rustling was growing closer. Added to that was a new noise--something thin and small, almost like a half-swallowed keening.
"Warren," she said again, now almost sure it was him. Caution was thrown to the winds as Karla began running down the hallway, her witchlight bobbing ahead of her, illuminating every shadow and crevice in front of her.
Caution dictated she be quiet, that this was probably yet another trap. Karla told caution to shut the Hell up. If this were Warren--Hell's fire, if this were anyone that she could save, could drag from this place...
Her light reached the last cell of the hallway, splashing brilliant blue light everywhere. In that light, Karla could see a huddled ball of cloth and blood...and the remains of ragged feathers. "Warren!" she called again, putting on a burst of speed.
Warren
Light. Bright and sudden and unexpected, forcing a strangled noise of protest as Warren lifted his hands to press tightly against his eyes. God, just the light burned. The sound of his name being called seemed to echo in his skull as a sharp counterpoint to that light, until it was all he could do to not grab at his head and sob.
He'd tell himself he was dreaming, but dreams generally didn't come with a lingering taste of blood and a phantom coldness where full wings had once been.
He opened his mouth, attempting to reply to the voice, but all he could really manage was something between a gasp and a dry croak of noise, falling somewhere short of the initial 'K' sound.
Karla
Karla fetched up against the bars, pressing her face to them and taking in the vision in front of her. The witchlight was unsparing; Warren stood out in stark detail against the shadows of the wall behind him. Save for the remains of his wings, he appeared unharmed, his Healing factor removing all traces of whatever else Raven had done to him. But his Healing factor couldn't clean away the remains of blood from his skin or the telling cuts in his clothing or the filth from his entire body.
And it couldn't help the look in his eyes, or the way he hand to bring his hands up to shield his eyes from the light.
"Mother Night..." she whispered. "What has that bitch done to you?"
In all honesty, Karla realized she didn't ever want to know. This wasn't her Warren; he hadn't woken up with them, remaining--she hoped--in the safety of Fandom and she thanked every deity she had ever heard of for that. Still, this Warren looked just like him--he hadn't aged a day since Fandom.
She reached to him through the bars, straining to touch him, to convince them both that this was real. And then she realized she was being stupid and simply passed into the cell.
Warren
It was her. It was her. It had to be. Couldn't be. Her legs... she... Had that been just another lie?
He licked his lips, attempted to swallow, tried to manage words again. His second try rewarded him with a soft hiss of sound, just an exhale, barely even a whisper.
"Shh.. shouldn't..."
Be here. Shouldn't be here, Karla. It was dangerous. See what she'd done to him? She wanted Rook. She couldn't have her. He'd been through hell, but she didn't have Rook...
That was all he had, anymore.
Karla
Warren was saying something, trying to tell her something. Karla didn't care. She was too busy wrapping her arms around his waist and clinging to him like he might vanish away into nothing if she let him go.
"I'm getting you out of here," she swore. "Getting everyone out. I'm not leaving you here. Not for another minute. I'll keep you safe, I promise. She won't be able to hurt you again."
Warren
He'd gone shock-still as he felt her arms wrap around him. Froze there, like a statue, holding his breath, trying to will his heart to stop beating in his chest.
It took a painfully long moment before the gesture and the words made sense together in his head. It took longer, still, before he let himself breathe again, all of it rushing out in an exhale that didn't dare let itself become a sob. Silence. Pure silence, while his arms wrapped around her and his shoulders shook and he tried to convince himself that this wasn't real.
Getting his hopes up only to have them dashed again would be the end of him, whether or not his body refused to let him let go.
Karla
Karla held on to him tightly for long heartbeats. Yes, her friends were still fighting off Raven and her creatures, and the other version of her was still languishing in yet another cell somewhere else, but the urgency of all that faded into the background a bit as she held Warren in her arms and felt all his fear and uncertainty.
After a few moments of silence, she pulled slightly away to look up into Warren's eyes. "I'm not...her," she said finally. "I'm not your Karla. She's here, too. We've come to rescue you both."
Warren
Not his. Not his Karla. A look of confusion crossed his face for only a fraction of a moment. It was difficult to remain too confused about things like this for long, considering the sort of life he'd lived ever since finding Fandom Island. Not his.
The look of confusion turned quite suddenly into a look of anguish. Raven had gotten his Karla. His wife. Here, somewhere...
"Where is she?"
Actual words. A full sentence, still quiet, with a voice that hadn't done much more than scream in ages.
Karla
"I don't know," Karla admitted, raising a hand to his cheek. It wasn't her Warren, no, but it was hard to remember that, not when he looked so much like him. "I haven't found her yet. But that's why we're here. To find and rescue you both. Raven's messenger brought her--your--Karla's Jewels as proof to Jaenelle. He offered a trade. Jaenelle refused."
Probably because negotiating a trade would take away precious time from whatever it was that Jaenelle was doing. You know, instead of rescuing one of her best and oldest friends.
...Not that Karla was bitter, or anything.
"I'm going to get you out of here. And then we'll find her and get her, too."
Warren
"And Rook? Is she..."
Safe?
Warren drew in a shaky breath, and then worked on pulling himself to his feet. His balance was a little off, and he found himself crouching slightly to compensate, but upright was better than curled into a bloody lump in the corner. Especially if Raven had taken Karla.
That Jaenelle hadn't negotiated... didn't surprise Warren all that much, apparently. But then, not much really seemed to come as a surprise, beyond the shock of someone stepping into his cell who wasn't there to attempt to make him more miserable. And, truth be told, part of him was still waiting for some sort of illusion to drop so that whatever this apparition was, it could throw it all in his face again with a laugh.
Karla
If Karla wasn't being a brat, she'd admit that Jaenelle had refused to negotiate because there was no way she was going to give up Rook to Raven, not after everything Karla and Warren had sacrificed to keep the little girl safe. But Karla was Karla and still young and therefore was capable of finding time to be hurt and petty, even in the worst situations.
"Rook is with Dinah right now," Karla soothed, neglecting to mention that it was the Fandom!Dinah Rook was with and that both of them were here. "You'll see her very soon. You and, uhh, her Maman both."
It was still weird speaking of herself in the third person.
Karla tucked herself under his arm to help support him as he stood. "Can you move all right?" she asked. "I can carry you with Craft if I need to."
Warren
"I can walk," Warren insisted, leaning against her for a moment all the same. Never mind that he had once been used to supporting well over twice the weight that he was currently carrying around on his back. Never mind that he hadn't had a decent meal in far too long. Never mind that he was tired, filthy, and, truth be told, a little terrified. He could walk, damn it.
"Let's find my wife."
Karla
For all that Warren had insisted he could walk, Karla was still trying to unobtrusively help him around. He looked awful, and that wasn't just what was left of his wings. Whatever else Raven had been doing to him, making sure he got enough food or sunlight clearly hadn't been on the top of the list. Karla wasn't entirely certain that he was up for a pleasant stroll in the park, never mind a determined search through miles and miles--or so it felt--of dungeon. Hopefully she wasn't being too obvious with her concerned glances or anything.
"Not that way," she said, guiding him towards a turn. "I came up that way before I found you. This way, come on."
Warren
Warren nodded, pushing himself onward. There was a nagging thought in the back of his head that he was slowing Karla down. That he was hurting this one's chances of finding the one that he needed to find, that he was jeopardizing everything.
There was the rest of him, who had nothing left to lose. And, even if the going was difficult, he was pushing himself ahead with as much strength as he could muster. He'd collapse once he knew that Karla was safe. His Karla.
"Lead on," he said, his voice still a little rough around the edges, even as his healing factor struggled to do something about that. Actually using those vocal cords? Madness. "And, really, you can stop trying to carry me."
Karla
"I'm not..." Okay, so she sort of was. She was also sort of blinking at him now. The force in his voice was surprising, not just because of the state he was in, but because it was Warren. Force just wasn't what he did. "I'm just trying to help. I don't want you to topple over, is all."
Warren
He'd been to hell and back. Only mostly figuratively, considering who his captor was. And he'd had years to grow into who he was before Raven had locked him away. Force might not have been what he did back in high school, but considering the direction that his life had taken, he had earned the right to be at least a little forceful.
Especially while his wife was locked away in some cell somewhere.
"I'm not made of glass," he pointed out, "contrary to all appearances."
Actually, he was fairly certain that appearances were stressing very much that he was most definitely a big sack of well-chewed meat, right now, as opposed to glass. But the sentiment remained.
Karla
"No, you're right, you're in glowing health," Karla said tartly. She gently set him down, slowly unwinding her arm from around his waist. She still kept a whisper of Craft up around him, in case he stumbled and was going to fall.
They kept creeping down hallways and cells, going up stairs and around corners, trying to find where Raven had hidden Karla.
"She couldn't have just put you both together somewhere?" Karla huffed, almost ten minutes later. "That would have been very convenient."
You know, for the rescue.
Warren
"Yeah, I think convenience was probably the last thing she was worried about at the time," Warren replied, casually leaning up against a wall.
You know. In whatever measure of 'casual' just so happened to include 'not falling over and refusing to rely on Craft.'
"You can't sense her on some sort of psychic thread? Or is this one of those 'she's me, and I can't smell myself' paradox things?"
Karla
Karla made a face. "Raven was prepared for me--or, well, a member of the Blood coming to the rescue. I could barely sense you until I was practically on top of you."
From around yet another corner, came a voice. It sounded eerily familiar to Karla--like her own, but not entirely so. It was deeper and richer, though grown thin and reedy from exhaustion.
"Go away," the voice called. "I can hear you coming. Save yourself some time. I will never agree to exchange my daughter for anything."
Warren
"Karla!"
Had he just been propping himself up against a wall a moment before? Because Warren was off like a rocket, tripping down the hallway and around that corner like a severely wingclipped bat out of hell.
... True, he couldn't exactly open the cell, himself. But gold star for him for getting that far, right? And, added bonus, the bars were conveniently right there for him to kind of crumple against, once he'd gotten that far.
Please hold for just one moment. He's right back to that 'not able to form words' state that he was in earlier. But this time, it's because he's looking at the state that Raven's left His Karla in, and he wants to tear somebody's throat out with his bare hands.
Karla, Queen of Glacia
There was a gasp as the Karla in the cell looked up to see her husband almost collapsing against the bars. "Warren!" she croaked, trying to pull herself closer. Her legs lay limp and useless behind her, gray with filth and dead skin that slough off in pieces behind her.
She looked older now; her face drawn and lined with with pain. Her skin was ashen and pale and pinched with exhaustion and her lips were cracked and bleeding. But she was smiling now, through the tears that had welled in her eyes. "Merciful Darkness, Warren, is that truly you?"
Warren
Oh, God, oh, Darkness, her legs. He'd hoped that the stories that Raven had told him of Karla begging to be Healed had just been cruel fabrications, meant to break his spirit.
The stories didn't begin to prepare him for the actuality. His knees gave way and they smacked against the ground with a heavy thud. He meant to do that. It meant he could reach through the bars for her hand. Could touch her again.
"It is," he whispered, not daring to let his own tears well up. He'd cry later. He had the feeling that he would have a lot of things to cry about, later. "We're going to get you out of here."
Older Karla
"I can't," Karla gasped out, lacing her fingers with Warren's. Oh, to feel his skin again. She couldn't stop her own tears from streaking down her dirty face. "I can't. My Jewels. She took them. I have almost nothing left. I can't even..."
She nodded to the bars. "I tried. The first time, I had just enough Craft left to pass through." But she hadn't had enough Craft to float herself down that hallway and had had to crawl. And they had found her before long and Raven had not been pleased to find Karla attempting to escape her hospitality.
But Karla didn't say that aloud. Some things didn't need to be said, and considering she was back in here, Warren could draw his own conclusions.
"Now, I don't even have enough Craft to light a candle."
Warren
"You don't need to light a candle," Warren murmured. He could barely stand, and couldn't manage to break the lock at this point without at least a good meal and about a year of rest. But he didn't have to do that, either. "I couldn't have gotten this far on my own, you know."
See, younger Karla who was still tiny and impulsive? This older version of Warren was more forceful than he'd ever been, but at least he gave credit where it was due.
Karla
Karla--who would have glared at Warren if she'd known about the appellations of either tiny or impulsive--had been hanging back, giving them a private moment together. And reeling a little, from the sight of this possible future.
At that, however, she came forward a bit, giving an incongruous wave. "Uhhh, hi?"
Yeah, sound more certain, Karla.
"We've come to rescue you."
Older Karla
Karla looked out the bars at her younger self, eyes wide and boggling. "You! Me! How?!"
Karla
"The magic of Fandom," Karla explained wryly. "And then when we--when I--got to the Keep, Rook found me." Them. Whatever. Sometime soon, she was going to have to explain to them that she had come with a group, one that included her Raven, but she was going to push that time back as long as she could. "She explained what happened and I came as quickly as I could to help."
She passed through the bars and knelt by the other-Karla's prone body. "Hold onto me," she said, and scooped her up. She was light, her body wasted. "I've got you."
And with that, Karla stepped back out into the hallway, carrying her older self tightly in her arms.
This was totally not awkward. Totally.
Warren
Warren, for one, certainly couldn't imagine how it would seem awkward in the least. Honest.
"I can carry her," he murmured, pulling himself to his feet again. "You'll need those hands of yours, in case we run into anybody on the way out."
Judging by his tone, he'd stepped right back into 'waiting for someone to tell him that he's just been imagining all of this' mode again. This was all happening far too easily.
Karla
Well, they had done their level best to cause a ruckus when they came in, so that had probably accounted for most of Raven's minions on this level. And then Karla'd taken care of the few stragglers on her way to Warren's cell.
But he was right. Just because they hadn't run into anyone yet didn't mean they wouldn't. And she'd be a lot less effective holding a grown woman in her arms.
Except Warren kind of looked like a stiff breeze would knock him down. Was he really up to carrying her? Other-her kind of looked like she wouldn't survive being dropped, either.
"I could float her?" Karla offered dubiously.
Older Karla
"I want to be carried by my husband," Karla said, flailing about to try to sit up and reach for Warren. "He can carry me, he can."
It had been months since Raven had taken him from her. Months. If he were to fall, if she were to drop, so be it. By this point, still unaware that her daughter was somewhere nearby, Karla was more than ready just to collapse in a heap so long as Warren was tangled up with her.
Warren
Really, now. Warren was carrying about a hundred pounds less meat on his back than he usually did, and... he was somewhat wasted away, granted, but his mutation still accounted for a good deal more upper body strength than most grown men had.
"You'll do no such thing," he agreed, stepping forward and holding his arms out to claim his Karla. "She gives me a reason to keep standing."
Take that, tiny dubious one.
And as if to drive that point home, the moment he'd taken her in his arms (and adjusted the way he was standing to account for the fact that he couldn't lean forward pretty much at all while he was carrying her, now), he took that opportunity to steal a kiss. The first kiss they'd had in ages. It tasted like blood and agony and despair, of months and months of it, and it was still the most beautiful kiss he could remember.
Older Karla
Karla threw her arms around his neck, holding him close. Tears poured down her face, but she ignored them. They were nothing new to her, after all, and nothing was going to distract her from kissing her husband.
Nothing.
"I love you," she whispered against his lips. "I love you, I've missed you, I'm so sorry."
And then she was kissing him again so hard there was no room for words.
Karla
...Yeah, still really awkward. Karla felt like she was intruding on something intensely private. It didn't matter that this was her future self--it wasn't her and they didn't really need an audience for this.
"I'm gonna go...scout up ahead," she said awkwardly. They didn't appear to notice.
Warren
"No," Warren murmured, to the Karla in his arms. "No, no, no, don't apologize, don't ever apologize..."
Had the little one wandered off? He vaguely heard something or other about scouting ahead. That was probably for the best. For starters, he didn't want to be in the way, and beyond that, it gave him a moment to make up for lost time.
So, so much lost time.
"It wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault. Oh, God, I've missed you..."
He'd missed a lot of things. Karla was up there near the very top of the list.
Older Karla
The Karla in his arms had even less of an idea where the other-her went. She was doing her best to ignore her as much as possible. It hurt, seeing a version of herself so young and full of hopes and dreams and visions of a bright future.
To see her walking around on healthy legs that this Karla would never have again.
She was dropping kisses on every square inch of his face now, unable to see a part of him without wanting to touch it, caress it, memorize it all over again with hands and eyes and lips. "I will never let you go," she murmured. "I don't know how I survived it before. I don't think I can again."
From the way she was clinging to him, she might have meant that 'never let you go' part literally.
Warren
Honestly, he wouldn't have any complaints about that, in the least. He was never putting her down. It balanced out.
"How long have you been here...?"
He wasn't certain that he wanted the answer to that.
But he needed to know.
Karla
"I'm not--" Karla was interrupted by the return of her impetuous counterpart.
"We're about to have company," the younger Karla announced. "I don't know if they're coming for us or just coming this way, but there's a group of those skull-faced guys about to join the party."
So, you know, if you guys were done making out...?
Warren
"Shit."
Yes, that was still about the extent of the profanity that Warren ever used. At least it came with adequate timing, really.
"How many?"
He was absolutely contemplating the positives and the negatives of setting his wife down in order to attempt to stand to fight, bare-handed and with only the vague remnants of mangled wings on his back, yes. It would be satisfying to tear a few of them apart, after all.
Also satisfying? Freedom. Sunlight. Fresh air. Hygiene. Would it be worth the risk?
Skullies
The answer was six, but Karla didn't really get a chance to say.
"And what do we have here?" one asked as they trotted around the corner. "Little birdies trying to escape, even though we've clipped their wings?"
Karla
Karla stepped between Warren and her older self and the group of Raven's creatures.
"Cute," she drawled, hands igniting with blue flames. "Real cute. Why don't you come and try to do that again? We'll see who ends up clipped after that."
Warren
Clipped.
Clipped. Warren backstepped slightly, his grasp on his wife tightening slightly, his back pressing against the nearest wall, and a string of profanity catching in his throat.
Clipped, his ass. They'd ripped his wings out by the sockets, laughed as he screamed his voice raw, played in the blood and mocked his agony. Wingclipping, he would take any day. This had been torture.
"I might not have full wings, but that doesn't make me completely helpless," he hissed. "Keep pushing your luck."
Oh, yes. He was truly terrifying. Right.
Skullies
"That's not what you said last time we saw you," another creature mocked. "I think it was something more like 'Oh, stop, please! No more!'" His eyes slid to the woman in Warren's arms. "Come to think of it, so did she," he added, all nonchalance.
With that, the six of them fanned out. "You amused the Mistress long enough," the one in the middle screeched. "And now you will die!"
Warren
Warren was seething, now. The slight beginnings of wings at his back were twitching, feathers standing on end, bristling as his chest rose and fell and his lip curled back and the shadows surrounding them all seemed to swim in red.
Not far away, there was a corner. For anyone else, being backed into one seemed like an idiotic thing to do. But when they were outnumbered like this...
He stepped along the wall, backing toward that corner and carefully placing His Karla against it, on the floor, there in that corner. There was no escape for either of them from there, granted. But there was no way anything could sneak up behind them, either. And six of the skeleton creatures wouldn't be able to approach them at the same time. They'd have to divide their attention between himself and the younger Karla and her flames.
"Try and kill me, you chatter-toothed bastards."
Skullies
"I bet we'll make you scream first!" the middle one announced, throwing himself at Warren. He was unarmed, but his fingers were made of bone, sharpened down into spikes. He struck out as he approached, looking to run those spikes across Warren's face.
At his back were two others, with the remaining three spinning around to face Karla. "Yum, yum. This one is still young and sweet. Perhaps we should keep her alive for the Mistress to toy with."
Karla
"That's a mistake," Karla said, eyes narrowed. "You should have decided to kill me right off."
The Sapphire light wreathing her hands flared up, engulfing the first of the three. He screamed as he was slammed backwards into the opposite cell wall, parts of his body getting shoved into the space between the bars.
"Do you want a shield?" she called to Warren, keeping her eyes locked on the remaining two in front of her. "I can keep them away from you if you need!"
Warren
"Shield my wife!" Warren's face was streaked in blood. His own, naturally, still dribbling in long, ragged lines over otherwise healthy skin.
He was okay with that, mostly because he'd just taken that opportunity to snap his attacker's arm clean off, and now he was in the process of force-feeding it to the skull-faced creature who had thought that it would be a good idea to give Warren a faceful of it, first.
He wasn't feeling terribly forgiving today, for some reason.
Karla
Karla turned to throw a shield between her counterpart and everything else, just in time to see Warren finish shoving the hand down the creature's throat. Yeah, that required a little bit of boggling. That was a sight she had never expected to see--not from Warren.
She seemed to be thinking that a lot today. It made sense, sure, but it was still a bit disconcerting to watch.
Not, however, as disconcerting as getting a bony elbow slammed into your temple when you were busy gaping at your not-so-mild boyfriend. With a gasp, Karla staggered and nearly fell, catching herself on the nearest wall.
Skullies
"We'll see how much magic you can do if we break your pretty arms," one of them snarled at her, so close his breath blew into her face. "And all your pretty fingers one by one."
Warren
So. While we were on the topic of things that were probably unexpected coming from Warren, how about a loud yell of pure rage, right before picking up the nearest skeleton creature and throwing him at the one that was threatening the younger version of his wife?
Adrenaline and mutant physiology made for a pretty awesome combination, sometimes.
"That's the problem with you guys," he snarled, turning to look at the last of the three that had turned its attention toward him. "You just love to listen to yourselves speaking, don't you?"
Karla
Yup. Karla was going to have to admit that was pretty much up there. Not that she was going to waste any more time gaping over it--or at the two skull-faced things that had gone flying by and landed with a literal bone-crunching thud.
"Thanks," she said, flashing Warren a quick smile, even as she called in the sticks that Lucivar had given her and shifted into a defensive stance. And then glanced down and felt stupid. "Hell's fire. Can you use these?"
...She totally should have offered them to him right away if he could. Hell's fire, even if he couldn't, so then at least he wouldn't be fighting bare-handed. She just...hadn't really made the connection.
Warren
Warren spared only a moment, looking at those sticks. And then he damn near choked out a laugh. Really? Now that they were down to two?
"Do you honestly think Lucivar would have let me marry her without drilling me half to death with them?"
And it had been fun, mostly for Lucivar, once the Eyrien had learned that Warren Healed automatically if you smacked him too hard. He'd had to learn fast, back when.
Karla
"I haven't really given it a lot of thought!" Karla protested, handing over the sticks. One of the last skullface creatures flung itself at her and she dodged out of the way, then grabbed onto the back of its shirt and let it run itself into the wall behind her. Literally into--with her hand on its back, Karla used her Craft to pass half of the creature into the stone. Its back legs kicked a few times and then were still.
"We only just rebroke the pants' rule!" she added, hoping that would help Warren figure out about where in the timeline she was coming from. And not mentioning that by 'just' she'd meant last night. "Marriage and stick lessons aren't even on the table!"
Warren
Oh, yeah. There was a groan as Warren remembered that particular rule.
There was another groan as the stick in Warren's hand swung out and cracked solidly against the skull of the last creature. A moment later, he narrowed his eyes down at the crumpled heap of minion on the floor, and then brought his foot down, hard against the back of its neck.
"There's a rule I don't miss in the least," he shared, keeping the stick in hand as he made his way back over to the corner to check on the Karla that he was far more familiar with.
He was vaguely aware that he was probably doing some interesting things to the brain of the younger woman in the hallway. And after so many months being picked apart and tormented by the skeleton creatures and their mistress, he found that he couldn't be bothered to care.
Karla
Karla was considering herself lucky that her brains hadn't just broken in two right about now. This Warren was not at all what she'd been expecting. Though she couldn't deny a small thrill when she saw how easily he dispatched the last of Raven's minions. She would say it was just adrenaline, but...no, that wasn't it. Watching Warren take ownership of the sticks with the easy air of someone who knew how to use them gave her the shivers. The good kind of shivers.
The impatient knocking on the shields and her older self's expression suggested that she wasn't the only one who could guess what she was feeling. Flushing a bit--why should she flush? He was her boyfriend, too! Ish! Sorta!--she took down the shield so Warren could get to his wife.
Ugh. This was all so complicated and strange! She was almost looking forward to getting back to the Ravens so she could have something else to focus on!
Older Karla
As the shield went down, Karla let go of the wall she'd been clinging to and practically fell into her husband's arms. Damn her legs. Still..."Mine," she said, more for her counterpart's benefit than anything else. She saw those glances the girl had been sneaking. She could go right home and look at her own Warren like that.
She pulled his head down for another quick kiss. "You were wonderful. I hate not being able to fight at your side," she said.
Straightening, she pointed up the hallway where the skull-creatures had come from. "Now let's go. I am more than ready to tell Raven exactly what she can do with her so-called hospitality."
[NFI, NFB for off-island adventures. Warnings for violence, dark themes, shit done got real-ness, and references to torture. Preplayed with the wonderful not_a_parakeet and coded with whateverknight's preplay coder.]