Pistachio 11
Author: tjatorra
Prompt: Pistachio 11 - an argument
Title: Escalated
Word Count: 1177
Rating: R (language and violence)
Verse: All Hail the Shifter King
Summary: Eli and Ryder argue about Katrina's future
Note: This takes place after Gavin betrays Katrina - in fact it's at exactly the same time as Shock. It ends abruptly because there is an immediate follow-up for the next Pistachio prompt (an apology) and another for the one after that (a decision). Primarily this is an exercise in writing dialogue the way normal people talk (over each other / interrupting constantly) and so I apologize for the generically crappy writing otherwise.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” Eli observed, crossing the patio to the stone wall that ringed the garden, a pair of tumblers in his hands and a bottle of scotch tucked under his arm. “I thought you left.”
“Getting around to it,” Ryder commented, jabbing his cigarette against the stone and flicking the extinguished butt onto the ground beneath him. He was sitting cross-legged on the wall, the patio light illuminating the ragged, clumsily-stitched wounds that curled in wide crescents around his shoulder blades. “The girls go to sleep?”
“Yeah.” Eli pulled the stopper from the bottle and poured a half glass of amber liquid, winkling his nose at the pungent aroma. He passed the glass to Ryder, who set it down on the stone beside him as he lit up another smoke. “Thankfully without any more dramatics.” After pouring a glass for himself, Eli pulled his legs up beneath him and watched Ryder for a moment, how the slight tremor in his hands was made more obvious by the waver of the cigarette’s glowing tip in the darkness. “Need to talk?” he asked finally, his voice cautious.
“About what?”
“About what happened.”
Ryder snorted at this, swapping the cigarette to his free hand so he could retrieve the glass of scotch from beside him.
“Going to take a lot more than this to make me talk about my feelings.” He gestured at Eli with the glass, smiling wryly, and tossed back the contents - just as quickly, he recoiled at the taste with a noise that was half-gasp, half-cough. “Fuck,” he choked, managing a wheezing laugh. “How old is that shit?”
“Older than you,” Eli smirked, refilling Ryder’s glass. “So treat it with a little respect, yeah? You damn barbarian.”
“Impressive.” Ryder took the glass and swirled the scotch, staring down at it. “Where’d you track this down?”
“Remember that missionary that was here back in the fifties?”
“Skinny little guy with the Jesus beard?”
“Yeah,” Eli chuckled, turning the bottle gently in his hands and rubbing his fingers across the bubbles in the old glass. “He sent me a few of these after we chased him out.” He set the bottle down on the wall and stared out at the distant trees. “He died a few years ago.”
“Tends to be a thing with humans,” Ryder commented dryly, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Wouldn’t bug you so much if you’d just stop adopting them.”
“I don’t ‘adopt’ them,” Eli defended.
“No?”
“No. At most I -“
“That ‘adventure group’ that got lost in the seventies?”
“They never would have found their way out if I -“
“Those college students in the eighties?”
“Their hostel burned down, what was I supposed -“
“The hot triplets on their reading break?” Ryder paused, thinking. “Though I can’t say I fault you that one.”
“Nice to know your brutish behavior isn’t limited to scotch,” Eli muttered, sipping his drink. “And that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“My behavior?”
“The whole ‘helping humans’ thing.”
“As in, you’re trying to booze me up so you can get me on board with -“
“As in, I’m cutting Katrina loose.”
The change in Ryder was as subtle and surprising as the shake in his hands - a clench of his jaw and a brief tightening of his shoulders the only real indication he was listening to Eli at all.
"You sure that's a good idea?" he asked evenly after several seconds of tense silence.
"I think it's the only option," Eli told him.
"If you take her back, Merrick will have her dead by the weekend."
"That's not my problem."
"Not your problem?" Ryder stared at him, stunned. "You dragged her into this!"
"One of them would have killed her back at the camp either way," Eli pointed out as he pushed himself off the wall and walked a few paces away, tucking his hands into his pockets.
"They only attacked because of you." Ryder flicked his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with his bare foot. "Seems awfully senseless to save her life just to get her killed."
"Senseless?" Eli barked out a humorless laugh. "Rebekah nearly died that night!"
"But she didn't," Ryder observed quietly, casually sipping his brandy.
"What does that matter?!"
"I would say it matters a lot."
Eli stared at him, his hands balling into fists, not sure whether it was just the conversation that was infuriating, or if it was a combination of that and Ryder's casual indifference. It had been a sticking point in what passed for their friendship in the past and usually Eli could just chalk it up to Ryder being his frustrating self, but the topic at hand was considerably more personal than most.
"You're a piece of work, you know that?" he breathed through clenched teeth. "She's my wife, Ryder."
"I'm aware."
"Which means I don't take kindly to things happening to her, especially when it's because of some stupid -"
"Hold up," Ryder interrupted, rising to his feet. He jabbed a finger through the air at Eli. "Bekah knew there was a risk involved in going back there, and she chose to go."
"You don't get it," Eli muttered, throwing his hands in the air and turning away. "You just don't get it."
"I 'get it' just fine. You're pissed off because you got yourself caught -"
"I didn't do anything," Eli said as he gathered his glass and the bottle from the wall.
"- and because Bekah got hurt, and for some stupid fucking reason you're blaming Kat for it -"
"And so should you!" Eli snapped, whirling on him. "Have you fucking looked at yourself?! What is it, shock or denial, huh? You trusted them and you got butchered! Do you even have the fucking wits about you to -"
The sudden impact and flare of pain across the side of his face made him lose his balance and fall heavily to one knee, the glass shattering on a stone and the bottle rolling into the ferns. For a moment he was completely absorbed in the sensation - it had been so long since he'd been struck by someone that could actually hurt him, and he didn't much appreciate being reminded what it felt like. But the shock and confusion was quickly replaced with a sickly heat that seems to radiate from the center of his chest, a horrible fever that consumed him in a trembling anxiety and a hot rage. It spread across his shoulders and down his arms and he relished it, the way his skin seemed to contract and burn around it. In the span of only seconds it coalesced in a searing weight around the golden bracelets on his wrists before exploding outward in a gleaming spear of blood-red light that caught Ryder in the stomach and threw him off his feet, sending him crashing into the garden wall before he hit the ground with a net of jagged crimson electricity skittering across his skin.
Prompt: Pistachio 11 - an argument
Title: Escalated
Word Count: 1177
Rating: R (language and violence)
Verse: All Hail the Shifter King
Summary: Eli and Ryder argue about Katrina's future
Note: This takes place after Gavin betrays Katrina - in fact it's at exactly the same time as Shock. It ends abruptly because there is an immediate follow-up for the next Pistachio prompt (an apology) and another for the one after that (a decision). Primarily this is an exercise in writing dialogue the way normal people talk (over each other / interrupting constantly) and so I apologize for the generically crappy writing otherwise.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” Eli observed, crossing the patio to the stone wall that ringed the garden, a pair of tumblers in his hands and a bottle of scotch tucked under his arm. “I thought you left.”
“Getting around to it,” Ryder commented, jabbing his cigarette against the stone and flicking the extinguished butt onto the ground beneath him. He was sitting cross-legged on the wall, the patio light illuminating the ragged, clumsily-stitched wounds that curled in wide crescents around his shoulder blades. “The girls go to sleep?”
“Yeah.” Eli pulled the stopper from the bottle and poured a half glass of amber liquid, winkling his nose at the pungent aroma. He passed the glass to Ryder, who set it down on the stone beside him as he lit up another smoke. “Thankfully without any more dramatics.” After pouring a glass for himself, Eli pulled his legs up beneath him and watched Ryder for a moment, how the slight tremor in his hands was made more obvious by the waver of the cigarette’s glowing tip in the darkness. “Need to talk?” he asked finally, his voice cautious.
“About what?”
“About what happened.”
Ryder snorted at this, swapping the cigarette to his free hand so he could retrieve the glass of scotch from beside him.
“Going to take a lot more than this to make me talk about my feelings.” He gestured at Eli with the glass, smiling wryly, and tossed back the contents - just as quickly, he recoiled at the taste with a noise that was half-gasp, half-cough. “Fuck,” he choked, managing a wheezing laugh. “How old is that shit?”
“Older than you,” Eli smirked, refilling Ryder’s glass. “So treat it with a little respect, yeah? You damn barbarian.”
“Impressive.” Ryder took the glass and swirled the scotch, staring down at it. “Where’d you track this down?”
“Remember that missionary that was here back in the fifties?”
“Skinny little guy with the Jesus beard?”
“Yeah,” Eli chuckled, turning the bottle gently in his hands and rubbing his fingers across the bubbles in the old glass. “He sent me a few of these after we chased him out.” He set the bottle down on the wall and stared out at the distant trees. “He died a few years ago.”
“Tends to be a thing with humans,” Ryder commented dryly, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Wouldn’t bug you so much if you’d just stop adopting them.”
“I don’t ‘adopt’ them,” Eli defended.
“No?”
“No. At most I -“
“That ‘adventure group’ that got lost in the seventies?”
“They never would have found their way out if I -“
“Those college students in the eighties?”
“Their hostel burned down, what was I supposed -“
“The hot triplets on their reading break?” Ryder paused, thinking. “Though I can’t say I fault you that one.”
“Nice to know your brutish behavior isn’t limited to scotch,” Eli muttered, sipping his drink. “And that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“My behavior?”
“The whole ‘helping humans’ thing.”
“As in, you’re trying to booze me up so you can get me on board with -“
“As in, I’m cutting Katrina loose.”
The change in Ryder was as subtle and surprising as the shake in his hands - a clench of his jaw and a brief tightening of his shoulders the only real indication he was listening to Eli at all.
"You sure that's a good idea?" he asked evenly after several seconds of tense silence.
"I think it's the only option," Eli told him.
"If you take her back, Merrick will have her dead by the weekend."
"That's not my problem."
"Not your problem?" Ryder stared at him, stunned. "You dragged her into this!"
"One of them would have killed her back at the camp either way," Eli pointed out as he pushed himself off the wall and walked a few paces away, tucking his hands into his pockets.
"They only attacked because of you." Ryder flicked his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with his bare foot. "Seems awfully senseless to save her life just to get her killed."
"Senseless?" Eli barked out a humorless laugh. "Rebekah nearly died that night!"
"But she didn't," Ryder observed quietly, casually sipping his brandy.
"What does that matter?!"
"I would say it matters a lot."
Eli stared at him, his hands balling into fists, not sure whether it was just the conversation that was infuriating, or if it was a combination of that and Ryder's casual indifference. It had been a sticking point in what passed for their friendship in the past and usually Eli could just chalk it up to Ryder being his frustrating self, but the topic at hand was considerably more personal than most.
"You're a piece of work, you know that?" he breathed through clenched teeth. "She's my wife, Ryder."
"I'm aware."
"Which means I don't take kindly to things happening to her, especially when it's because of some stupid -"
"Hold up," Ryder interrupted, rising to his feet. He jabbed a finger through the air at Eli. "Bekah knew there was a risk involved in going back there, and she chose to go."
"You don't get it," Eli muttered, throwing his hands in the air and turning away. "You just don't get it."
"I 'get it' just fine. You're pissed off because you got yourself caught -"
"I didn't do anything," Eli said as he gathered his glass and the bottle from the wall.
"- and because Bekah got hurt, and for some stupid fucking reason you're blaming Kat for it -"
"And so should you!" Eli snapped, whirling on him. "Have you fucking looked at yourself?! What is it, shock or denial, huh? You trusted them and you got butchered! Do you even have the fucking wits about you to -"
The sudden impact and flare of pain across the side of his face made him lose his balance and fall heavily to one knee, the glass shattering on a stone and the bottle rolling into the ferns. For a moment he was completely absorbed in the sensation - it had been so long since he'd been struck by someone that could actually hurt him, and he didn't much appreciate being reminded what it felt like. But the shock and confusion was quickly replaced with a sickly heat that seems to radiate from the center of his chest, a horrible fever that consumed him in a trembling anxiety and a hot rage. It spread across his shoulders and down his arms and he relished it, the way his skin seemed to contract and burn around it. In the span of only seconds it coalesced in a searing weight around the golden bracelets on his wrists before exploding outward in a gleaming spear of blood-red light that caught Ryder in the stomach and threw him off his feet, sending him crashing into the garden wall before he hit the ground with a net of jagged crimson electricity skittering across his skin.