In continuation of the second story here from over a year ago.

Ib woke not in pain. He woke not aching everywhere, not unable to move. He woke.

He woke, which meant he wasn’t dead. That in itself was a bit of a shocker. The last time he’d had a beat-down like this – close to this, there hadn’t been as much bone-snapping that time – he’d ended up in the hospital for weeks and in agony for months.

Today, he had a little pain in his lungs and his throat was a bit raw. That… that was not how this worked.

He looked up at the big guy in the doorway. Baram looked sort of like unfinished clay, like someone had lumped him together and then forgotten to glaze or bake him. He also looked like anyone going through the door would have to go straight through him. The doctor would have had to go through him to get to Ib; maybe she’d gone through the wall. That seemed like the safer option.

Ib had more important questions at the moment. He squeaked, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Why?”

Baram’s brow furrowed. “Mine. Not theirs.”

Oh. Ib swallowed. Well, if that was the price he had to pay… “Y-“

“What he means-” Rozen somehow shouldered the bigger guy aside. Ib had never been so grateful for an interruption. “-is that he considers you crew, and doesn’t like other people fucking with his friends.”

“Oh.” Friends. These were the sort of friends that you wanted, in a place where people randomly tried to break all your bones.

“I mean, if you want to Belong to him, I’m sure he won’t object. It might be a little awkward, and I don’t think he’s all that into guys.”

“No, no, that’s all right.” Ib cleared his throat, and found he could speak without squeaking if he spoke very slowly. “Thanks.”

“Crew.” Baram thumped his chest with his fist.

“Crew.” Rozen, unsurprisingly, was smirking.

“Crew.” Ib found himself smiling, too. Crew.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/560519.html. You can comment here or there.

For the meme I posted Wednesday night here and here (feel free to leave pairings now if you want; I’m having fun.

“Come on, man.” Rozen grabbed Baram by the arm. “Party tonight.”

“Party? It’s Tues…” He shut up, but not before he saw the look the bigger guy shot him. “Right. Party. Whose place?”

“Ardell’s. His Keptie seems to like cuddling with you.”

“No-one likes cuddling with me.”

“Hey, man, Annie’s not bad, and everyone knows you’re not as rough as you look.” Rozen punched his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. You always do.”

more here: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/493490.html

(Year 2)
Shad and Meshach had Ib up against the wall and were doing their best to break every bone in his body one at a time. Every time he tried to get away, one of them muttered in his ear, and he found himself squirming in pain, his feet rooted to the ground.

“Say you’re hers and it’ll end,” the older of the two whispered. “All you gotta do is say you’re hers.”

“Luke ain’t gonna find you down here, and he hates you anyway, little bastard. Say you’re hers.”

“Trouble?” The rumbling voice was a new one – might be Baram. Ib couldn’t see.

“None of your concern, freak.”

Something happened. Ib was never sure what. But when he woke up, he was in the doctor’s office, Baram was looming in the doorway, and he didn’t belong to Liza.

(2040)

Agmund was hunting.

He’d been hunting for a long time. Other obligations kept getting in the way, but he came back to this one over and over again. This was his failure, this was his mistake. He would fix it.

Meshach had been his Student. Meshach had done this to his daughter. Everything since then – what Ardell had done, what being cy’Valerian had done, what being abandoned by the Thornes had done – came back to Fridmar’s failure as a Mentor and a father.

And now he would resolve that issue.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/318974.html. You can comment here or there.