Crossover Fic: absit omen (AtS/Penndragon)(1/2)
I owe korilian this AtS/Penndragon crossover from versaphile's crossover ficathon from oh-so-long-ago. Between my brush with mortality a few months back, and my natural suck-at-carrying-through-with-ficathon-assignments-ness... it sort of fell by the wayside.
And rightly so. What I had was crap. I must insist on this. So I started over when I could, and now I give you:
Title: absit omen (1/2)
Fandom: Angel the Series/Penndragon (book) crossover
Characters: Wes, Yorn, (surprise), (others)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: AtS S3; Penndragon Book 5 (Blackwater) AU
Wordcount: 1682, this part
Disclaimer: AtS is the brainchild of Papa Whedon; D.J. Machale birthed the Penndragon book series. I wanted to post this and now I have and I am off to snuggle with my children :p
Summary: 'Yorn nods, swallowing down his fear. Wes is his friend. And more than that, a Traveler - The Traveler, Kasha said, though Wes had denied it - Eelong’s only hope of survival.'
A/N: Maybe this is crap, too. I hope not. Just let me know. (And since this is unforgiveably late, korilian, I'm going to try and write that AtS/SN fic for you too :)
Tabar’s nervous and you can tell. He talks a mile a minute and his tail swishes beneath the hem of his robes. He keeps protracting and retracting his claws, like he hasn’t decided that he doesn’t need them. They’ve barely made their way past a level of the dungeons and Yorn is more certain by the step that they’re going to get caught. Tabar radiates anxiety. It must be seeping through the stone walls surrounding them by now.
“…but then he left this morning. And Yorn told me to tell him if it happened. Then the herders headed out-”
“Thank you for keeping an eye out for us, Tabar,” Wes says calmly. “You’ve been a great help.” Wes may be the coolest member of their little rescue party - not that that’s unusual. Yorn is constantly impressed by the human’s ability to greet danger with a blank face or even a smile, unlike Kasha - who hadn’t been impressed; she’d been wary. She said Wes was either crazy… or stupid for being so fearless. And they both knew he wasn’t the latter. If Kasha were here right now, Yorn thinks he would agree with her. Wes walks tall, but even with his hood pulled up he is dwarfed by Yorn and Tabar in size. There is no way he could be mistaken for a Klee if seen. And if Yorn or Tabar were caught, the punishment would be considerable but not deadly. There is no telling what would be done to Wes.
Yet Wes walks slowly. His voice is even as he continues, “You can return to your post now. We can find our way out. You won’t even remember we’re here.”
For a moment, Yorn wants to hiss. Tabar? Forget he was in the middle of committing the solitary illegal act of his life? But then he remembers. He often forgets.
The nervousness seeps out of Tabar like a plug has been pulled, and his voice is almost cheerful as he repeats, “I’m going to return to my post now. Find your way out. I bet I won’t even remember you’re here!” He doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t even look in Yorn’s direction - he just turns on his paws and leaves the way they came, as if in a trance and not realizing it.
Yorn’s fur ruffles. As much as he’s learned about Travelling since Kasha came to him with her amazing secret, he would never get used to certain aspects of it.
Wes looks at him. Strange, light eyes shining from within the folds of his hood. “Are you alright, Yorn?” he asks with genuine concern.
Yorn nods, swallowing down the slightest hint of fear at the question. Wes is his friend. And more than that, a Traveler - The Traveler, Kasha said, though Wes had denied it - Eelong’s only hope of survival.
But sometimes his power frightens Yorn. It had frightened Kasha. And she would have possessed the same abilities if she wasn’t- If she hadn’t-
Yorn swallows. It still hurts to think about her.
“He’ll be in the lowest level?” Wesley asks, and Yorn knows he hasn’t forgotten what Tabar told them, but he’s thankful for the distraction of talking.
“Yes. It’s where they keep the most dangerous gars.” He tries not to ruffle again at his own unfortunate word choice. He hasn’t learned to translate “gar” into “human” every time he goes to speak the out-dated word. He’s only known that humans exist for several months now. Before that there had only been gars in his world - primitive animals. Some of which could be vicious if you ventured far enough into the mountains or the more unpopulated jungles.
Wes doesn’t comment, only keeps walking.
“You- You’re certain it’s not one of… them?” Yorn asks after they’ve passed another level. He’s been holding back the question since Tabar contacted him.
The human they are going to see… is powerful. Like only the really scary gars ever are. Kasha told Yorn that they aren’t really gars at all - they are things called quigs. Every territory has them - and in every territory they are evil.
Wes turns to him again and, surprisingly, he is smiling. “Yes. I’m certain. I don’t know how he got here… But I know he isn’t a quig.”
Yorn wants to know how Wes knows, but he doesn’t press the issue. “You know who is down there?” Yorn asks, coming close, because something about the way Wes said “he”…
They take a curve in the tunnel quickly, and Yorn’s heart jumps in his throat when he sees a dark shape ahead of them. Wes hasn’t so much as slowed his steps, and in seconds Yorn realizes it isn’t a shape at the end of the tunnel - it’s a door. A large, heavy stone slab that is pushed and pulled in front of the opening to the lowest level of the dungeons.
For not the first time, Yorn is struck by a thing that had hardly captured his attention before Kasha became a Traveler - and that now makes him stagger under the realization of what life must be like for the gars in his territory. The humans. Hunted down by the Klee, herded into tight cages and then shoved down here until harvest - when there is laboring to be done in the fields. When he believed that gars were animals - beasts of burden, not sentient enough to feel the full horror of their captivity - Yorn had objected to the use of dungeons in controlling the gar population. He’d believed that even primitives deserved more Kleean treatment than to be caged, beaten, and even starved.
Knowing now that gars are actually humans… That they have been sentient - or capable of sentience - all along… That they might feel and think just as a Klee would do… The reality of the dungeons horrifies Yorn. And he is nearly sick with the shock of it.
Wes’s face is blank but his eyes are cold and his lips are a thin, grim line.
“I’ll need your help with this,” he says quietly. And Yorn wordlessly helps him move the slab. Wes slips immediately through the gap they’ve exposed and Yorn follows after him.
The lowest level of the dungeons isn’t sectioned off as the other levels are. Most gar holding cells are about the size of a small city hall - equipped with a latrine and air vents and room to house about sixty gars. The low level is actually one long passageway that dead ends after two turns and seventeen cells. Each cell, Yorn knows, is just large enough to hold one or two gars. He doesn’t know how many are being held in the low level currently. It is quiet here - too quiet. But the stench is as awful as if a dozen gars were being kept here, without latrine access.
“Wait here,” Wes tells him just inside the passage. And Yorn is embarrassed by his relief at that. “He doesn’t know you. Or what’s going on here, and he might-”
Yorn swishes his tail. Wes doesn’t have to finish that thought.
“Keep watch. I’ll bring him out.”
Wes disappears down the passage, his torch the only light in the narrow space, before Yorn can think to ask if it’s safe for him to go in alone. Wes disappears around a corner and Yorn waits in the eerie darkness that remains, ears cocked into the silence.
He waits for so long, it seems in fact, that it’s almost a surprise when he hears the shuffling of Wes’s robes and human footsteps coming nearer. Wes’s torchlight appears around the corner and Yorn growls softly. He is so anxious to be free of this place that the sight of Wes out of his robes almost fails to shock him.
“Wes-”
Wes is already moving past him, out of the passageway, with their robed rescuee leaning heavily against him and hunched over. The human says something in its own language that Yorn cannot understand and Wes doesn’t reply to.
“He’s bleeding,” Wes says. “This won’t do much about it, but at least it’s something.”
As they step out from behind the slab, further away from the stale, sour air in the lower levels, Yorn suddenly knows what Wes is talking about. He can smell the ga- the human’s blood. His tail swishes. It isn’t right - the human’s blood smells… different, and there is too much of it, but there’s no time for questions. Wes hurries through the tunnel and Yorn hurries with him.
“We need to get to a safe place quickly. He’s lost a lot of blood and he needs to feed soon,” Wes says as they rise through the levels.
Yorn nods. Tabar doesn’t have the nerve to do what Traveler’s do without Wes’s Traveler-speak to soothe him, but Yorn won’t forget what his friend has done for them tonight. They could not have made it into the dungeons without Tabar’s knowledge of the guard rotations and keys to the inner gates. Tabar also gave Yorn the keys to his dwelling on the outskirts of the city - even if he might not remember it at the moment.
“I don’t know what Tabar has in his dwelling, but I can get you fruits and vegetables from the market after you are settled…”
Wes is looking at him so Yorn stops talking, wondering-
“That isn’t what he eats,” Wes says simply. And they’re nearing the first level, so Yorn tries not to think about what Wes might mean by that.
“I’ll get another robe,” Yorn says as they near the guard’s station, where Tabar will be keeping a lone watch for only another hour. Then the herders will return with the gars who labor for them. They must be gone by then, while Wes needs only to disguise himself long enough to walk from the inner gate to Yorn’s cart.
Wes nods and keeps to the shadows with the other human. Yorn tries not to run towards the guard station as though he were running away from his friend.
[ end part 1. ]
And rightly so. What I had was crap. I must insist on this. So I started over when I could, and now I give you:
Title: absit omen (1/2)
Fandom: Angel the Series/Penndragon (book) crossover
Characters: Wes, Yorn, (surprise), (others)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: AtS S3; Penndragon Book 5 (Blackwater) AU
Wordcount: 1682, this part
Disclaimer: AtS is the brainchild of Papa Whedon; D.J. Machale birthed the Penndragon book series. I wanted to post this and now I have and I am off to snuggle with my children :p
Summary: 'Yorn nods, swallowing down his fear. Wes is his friend. And more than that, a Traveler - The Traveler, Kasha said, though Wes had denied it - Eelong’s only hope of survival.'
A/N: Maybe this is crap, too. I hope not. Just let me know. (And since this is unforgiveably late, korilian, I'm going to try and write that AtS/SN fic for you too :)
Tabar’s nervous and you can tell. He talks a mile a minute and his tail swishes beneath the hem of his robes. He keeps protracting and retracting his claws, like he hasn’t decided that he doesn’t need them. They’ve barely made their way past a level of the dungeons and Yorn is more certain by the step that they’re going to get caught. Tabar radiates anxiety. It must be seeping through the stone walls surrounding them by now.
“…but then he left this morning. And Yorn told me to tell him if it happened. Then the herders headed out-”
“Thank you for keeping an eye out for us, Tabar,” Wes says calmly. “You’ve been a great help.” Wes may be the coolest member of their little rescue party - not that that’s unusual. Yorn is constantly impressed by the human’s ability to greet danger with a blank face or even a smile, unlike Kasha - who hadn’t been impressed; she’d been wary. She said Wes was either crazy… or stupid for being so fearless. And they both knew he wasn’t the latter. If Kasha were here right now, Yorn thinks he would agree with her. Wes walks tall, but even with his hood pulled up he is dwarfed by Yorn and Tabar in size. There is no way he could be mistaken for a Klee if seen. And if Yorn or Tabar were caught, the punishment would be considerable but not deadly. There is no telling what would be done to Wes.
Yet Wes walks slowly. His voice is even as he continues, “You can return to your post now. We can find our way out. You won’t even remember we’re here.”
For a moment, Yorn wants to hiss. Tabar? Forget he was in the middle of committing the solitary illegal act of his life? But then he remembers. He often forgets.
The nervousness seeps out of Tabar like a plug has been pulled, and his voice is almost cheerful as he repeats, “I’m going to return to my post now. Find your way out. I bet I won’t even remember you’re here!” He doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t even look in Yorn’s direction - he just turns on his paws and leaves the way they came, as if in a trance and not realizing it.
Yorn’s fur ruffles. As much as he’s learned about Travelling since Kasha came to him with her amazing secret, he would never get used to certain aspects of it.
Wes looks at him. Strange, light eyes shining from within the folds of his hood. “Are you alright, Yorn?” he asks with genuine concern.
Yorn nods, swallowing down the slightest hint of fear at the question. Wes is his friend. And more than that, a Traveler - The Traveler, Kasha said, though Wes had denied it - Eelong’s only hope of survival.
But sometimes his power frightens Yorn. It had frightened Kasha. And she would have possessed the same abilities if she wasn’t- If she hadn’t-
Yorn swallows. It still hurts to think about her.
“He’ll be in the lowest level?” Wesley asks, and Yorn knows he hasn’t forgotten what Tabar told them, but he’s thankful for the distraction of talking.
“Yes. It’s where they keep the most dangerous gars.” He tries not to ruffle again at his own unfortunate word choice. He hasn’t learned to translate “gar” into “human” every time he goes to speak the out-dated word. He’s only known that humans exist for several months now. Before that there had only been gars in his world - primitive animals. Some of which could be vicious if you ventured far enough into the mountains or the more unpopulated jungles.
Wes doesn’t comment, only keeps walking.
“You- You’re certain it’s not one of… them?” Yorn asks after they’ve passed another level. He’s been holding back the question since Tabar contacted him.
The human they are going to see… is powerful. Like only the really scary gars ever are. Kasha told Yorn that they aren’t really gars at all - they are things called quigs. Every territory has them - and in every territory they are evil.
Wes turns to him again and, surprisingly, he is smiling. “Yes. I’m certain. I don’t know how he got here… But I know he isn’t a quig.”
Yorn wants to know how Wes knows, but he doesn’t press the issue. “You know who is down there?” Yorn asks, coming close, because something about the way Wes said “he”…
They take a curve in the tunnel quickly, and Yorn’s heart jumps in his throat when he sees a dark shape ahead of them. Wes hasn’t so much as slowed his steps, and in seconds Yorn realizes it isn’t a shape at the end of the tunnel - it’s a door. A large, heavy stone slab that is pushed and pulled in front of the opening to the lowest level of the dungeons.
For not the first time, Yorn is struck by a thing that had hardly captured his attention before Kasha became a Traveler - and that now makes him stagger under the realization of what life must be like for the gars in his territory. The humans. Hunted down by the Klee, herded into tight cages and then shoved down here until harvest - when there is laboring to be done in the fields. When he believed that gars were animals - beasts of burden, not sentient enough to feel the full horror of their captivity - Yorn had objected to the use of dungeons in controlling the gar population. He’d believed that even primitives deserved more Kleean treatment than to be caged, beaten, and even starved.
Knowing now that gars are actually humans… That they have been sentient - or capable of sentience - all along… That they might feel and think just as a Klee would do… The reality of the dungeons horrifies Yorn. And he is nearly sick with the shock of it.
Wes’s face is blank but his eyes are cold and his lips are a thin, grim line.
“I’ll need your help with this,” he says quietly. And Yorn wordlessly helps him move the slab. Wes slips immediately through the gap they’ve exposed and Yorn follows after him.
The lowest level of the dungeons isn’t sectioned off as the other levels are. Most gar holding cells are about the size of a small city hall - equipped with a latrine and air vents and room to house about sixty gars. The low level is actually one long passageway that dead ends after two turns and seventeen cells. Each cell, Yorn knows, is just large enough to hold one or two gars. He doesn’t know how many are being held in the low level currently. It is quiet here - too quiet. But the stench is as awful as if a dozen gars were being kept here, without latrine access.
“Wait here,” Wes tells him just inside the passage. And Yorn is embarrassed by his relief at that. “He doesn’t know you. Or what’s going on here, and he might-”
Yorn swishes his tail. Wes doesn’t have to finish that thought.
“Keep watch. I’ll bring him out.”
Wes disappears down the passage, his torch the only light in the narrow space, before Yorn can think to ask if it’s safe for him to go in alone. Wes disappears around a corner and Yorn waits in the eerie darkness that remains, ears cocked into the silence.
He waits for so long, it seems in fact, that it’s almost a surprise when he hears the shuffling of Wes’s robes and human footsteps coming nearer. Wes’s torchlight appears around the corner and Yorn growls softly. He is so anxious to be free of this place that the sight of Wes out of his robes almost fails to shock him.
“Wes-”
Wes is already moving past him, out of the passageway, with their robed rescuee leaning heavily against him and hunched over. The human says something in its own language that Yorn cannot understand and Wes doesn’t reply to.
“He’s bleeding,” Wes says. “This won’t do much about it, but at least it’s something.”
As they step out from behind the slab, further away from the stale, sour air in the lower levels, Yorn suddenly knows what Wes is talking about. He can smell the ga- the human’s blood. His tail swishes. It isn’t right - the human’s blood smells… different, and there is too much of it, but there’s no time for questions. Wes hurries through the tunnel and Yorn hurries with him.
“We need to get to a safe place quickly. He’s lost a lot of blood and he needs to feed soon,” Wes says as they rise through the levels.
Yorn nods. Tabar doesn’t have the nerve to do what Traveler’s do without Wes’s Traveler-speak to soothe him, but Yorn won’t forget what his friend has done for them tonight. They could not have made it into the dungeons without Tabar’s knowledge of the guard rotations and keys to the inner gates. Tabar also gave Yorn the keys to his dwelling on the outskirts of the city - even if he might not remember it at the moment.
“I don’t know what Tabar has in his dwelling, but I can get you fruits and vegetables from the market after you are settled…”
Wes is looking at him so Yorn stops talking, wondering-
“That isn’t what he eats,” Wes says simply. And they’re nearing the first level, so Yorn tries not to think about what Wes might mean by that.
“I’ll get another robe,” Yorn says as they near the guard’s station, where Tabar will be keeping a lone watch for only another hour. Then the herders will return with the gars who labor for them. They must be gone by then, while Wes needs only to disguise himself long enough to walk from the inner gate to Yorn’s cart.
Wes nods and keeps to the shadows with the other human. Yorn tries not to run towards the guard station as though he were running away from his friend.
[ end part 1. ]