Chapter Text
Skizz isn’t exactly sure how he got into this situation.
Well, no. That’s a lie. He knows exactly how he got here. But he’d rather not remember it, thank you very much.
He’s learned quickly, though, that rimeiron chains are really not that fun.
Skizz is a creature literally made of magic. Rimeiron is built to take that magic away, so he’s had the strength to do literally nothing except lay there and look around. He’s gotten very familiar with this stupid cell. There’s been a dripping noise behind him since he got here, and Skizz wishes he had the energy to get up and make it stop. But he doesn’t. So Skizz lay there, staring at the bars of this stupid cell, wishing he had the strength to stop the stupid dripping, and mentally urging Gem and Impulse to hurry up with the rescue Skizz knew was coming.
Of course, because he’s staring at the bars, he notices the second the guards bring in someone new. She’s an avian – Skizz can just barely see tawny wings peeking out from under her scarlet cloak. Her eyes find Skizz’s easily in the darkness. “He doesn’t look so good,” the avian says with an accent Skizz can’t place, smiling easily. One of the guards glances uneasily at Skizz. The other shakes her roughly, hissing at her to be quiet. “Relax, buddy. Just an observation.”
The guards shove her into the cell across from Skizz and the door clangs shut behind her. She finds her footing easily with her taloned feet. She turns, slinging her arms through the bars. “How long am I in here, fellas?”
“Depends on if you keep talking,” the bigger one snaps. His buddy elbows him in the ribs and they stalk out of the dungeon, grumbling quietly to each other.
“They’re so uptight,” the avian bemoans, glancing at Skizz. Skizz wants to laugh – really, he does – but he can’t seem to muster up the energy. All he can do is move his eyes to track her as she starts to pace the cell. “This is like my third time here, and they still haven’t chilled out.” Skizz thinks if he wasn’t so tired his eyebrows would have risen in surprise. Third time? “At some point, Scott is going to give up trying to keep me out of trouble. Soulbonds are so tiring.” He can’t see her very well in the dark, but Skizz has a feeling that the avian probably just rolled her eyes.
Soulbonds. That’s a familiar term. Soulmates are a rare thing in Alrea, much rarer than even Fae. Even rarer is someone who outright ignores their bond to another person. Skizz desperately wants to ask, but again – no energy. The avian’s eyes catch on his chains and her eyebrows furrow. “They’ve got you in rimeiron. I thought those were outlawed?” She pauses, like she’s waiting for him to reply. “You’re not very talkative.”
I couldn’t even if I wanted to , Skizz thinks bitterly. He glances at the chains, hoping to get the message across, but the avian has already turned away. She bundles herself into the far corner of the cell, drawing her scarlet cloak around herself until only her eyes are visible – which Skizz has only just now noticed are a piercing red. She doesn’t say another word, just sits and stares into Skizz’s soul. Guess I’m stuck here for a while longer, Skizz thinks, and resigns himself to waiting.
He must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because his eyes snap open at the loud, rattling bang. Across the hall, the avian is slamming a small metal cup against the bars of her cell. When she sees him awake, she pauses. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to sleep, mate,” she says slowly, looking him over. “You stopped breathing for a second.” Skizz breathes in sharply, stopping to take stock of himself. Now that he notices, he does feel faintly ill. There’s a weight on his chest, and his legs and arms are aching.
Something is really wrong.
The avian starts banging again, and Skizz’s eyes fly open. He didn’t even realize they were closed. “I’m going to keep doing this every time you close your eyes,” the avian says cheerfully, winding her arms through the bars. And she keeps her word. For the next however long - Skizz stopped keeping count a while ago - anytime he started drifting, the avian would startle him awake by banging on the bars. Finally, a guard comes to inspect the commotion.
“Stop that, now,” he snaps, pointing threateningly at the avian. “You might be the King’s soulbond, but you aren’t going to get away with everything.”
The avian hisses. “You’re killing him!” She points across the way, and the guard turns to look. “You’ve got to take those chains off. He’s going to die.”
“I don’t have to do anything you tell me to, witch,” the guard growls. He looks over Skizz with detached curiosity, but ultimately turns back to the avian. “Stop banging on the bars, or I’ll take the damn cup.”
“Take it and I’ll bite you.” The avian bared her teeth. The guard hesitated, but eventually he turned tail and left the dungeon. “There’s no way Scott knows you're in rimeiron. He’s literally faefolk. If he does know, then he’s a lot worse than I thought.” Skizz appreciated the sentiment, but he can’t find a way to tell her that he probably does deserve this. He’s lucky there’s been no wanted posters for him like there was for Gem and Impulse, but now murdering a noble in broad daylight? Yeah he absolutely deserves this. Or at least, the King probably thinks he does.
Skizz can feel himself falling asleep again. He tries to force his eyes awake, but they aren’t listening to his brain. The avian doesn’t even hesitate, just slams the cup against the bars to startle him awake. With her free hand, she digs two pointed claws into the side of her arm until blood is dripping onto the stones. Skizz tries to tell her to stop, that he’s not worth her pain, but something else gets to her first.
“What the hell, Pearl!” A man dressed in cyan robs comes storming into the dungeon. “I was in the middle of a meeting. How am I supposed to explain this to the nobility?” He lifts his arm up, showing off the bloodstained sleeve. “Knock it off!”
Instead of responding, the avian – Pearl – launches the cup in her hand through the bars. It hits the man in the chest and bounces off harmlessly. He stares at her, mouth agape. “Take his chains off,” she demands. She lifts her claws from her arm to be pointed at the hollow curve of her throat. “Now.”
“What on earth has gotten into you,” the man says, but his voice is shaky. He’s most likely the Soulbound Pearl was talking about earlier, if Skizz had to guess, which means he’s in a very dangerous situation. “He’s just another avian, Pearl, and he’s in for murder.”
“You’re killing him, Scott. He’s in rimeiron, and he’s dying.” Pearl stays unwavering, two claws pointed at her throat. “I don’t care who he murdered. If it was anyone in your godsforsaken city, it was probably justified. Now take off his damn chains!”
“Pearl, let’s be civil-” Pearl doesn’t give him a chance to finish. She pushes the very tip of one of her claws into her throat, and Scott hisses. “Fine, Pearl! Stop,” he says, pressing one hand against his throat. He turns to Skizz’s cell, unlocking it hurriedly and crouching down to work on his chains. Pearl doesn’t take the claws from her throat until the chains are off Skizz’s wrists.
“See, that wasn’t so hard,” she says, and her voice is saccharine. “Was it, Scott?”
With the chains off, Skizz’s magic comes rushing back in. He gets a little taste of what Impulse had to deal with back when he first gave the imp his feather. The sensation of overflowing magic is harsh and burning. If he had the energy, he’d probably be screaming. As it is, his eyes roll back and he passes out instead.
When Skizz wakes back up, he finally has the energy to move. The first thing he does is turn on his side and start hacking up a lung. “Hey! Welcome back to the living!” Pearl cheers. Skizz pushes himself up to glare over his shoulder at her. “Oh, big bad avian is angry.” Her voice is sing-songy, and it makes Skizz laugh a little. “At least you’re not dead, huh?”
“What happened?” Skizz rasps, pushing himself up to his knees.
“I got my stubborn Soulbound to get those chains off ya,” Pearl says. “So, technically, you’re alive cause of me.” She plants her hands on her hips and smiles wide at him. “Don’t worry, though, I won’t hold it over your head or anything.”
“The King?”
“The one and only.” Skizz hmm’s softly, kicking at the chains the King had left on the floor of his cell. “Hey so, who’d you murder?”
“It was an accident,” Skizz whines softly, thunking his head back against the wall. “I tried to bolt a basilisk and I missed.” Pearl’s red eyes sparkle and she leans forward against the bars of the cell.
“You’re a monster hunter?” She asks earnestly, practically bouncing on her toes.
Skizz waves a hand in a so-so motion, trying to decide if he had the strength to get to his feet. There was still that dripping, and he kind of wants to get up and make it stop. “I get money for my…..friends. We live on the road.”
“Why?”
Skizz glares at her. “You ask a lot of questions.”
Pearl is undeterred. “Come on, it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do. Humor me.” Skizz huffs, finally forcing himself to his feet and turning his attention to the dripping. It turns out it was a loose pipe, which he quickly twists back into place. “Why do you live on the road?”
“Because that’s how we like it.” Skizz’s voice is sharp and cold, and he regrets it almost immediately when Pearl flinches softly. “It’s hard to explain,” he says, settling back against the wall. His legs are shaking, which tells him that even after the influx of magic, his body is still recovering. It’s probably going to be a while before he’s back to full strength. “I’d have to explain something, and it would make you essentially an accomplice, and…..”
“Not worth it?” Pearl smiles, all teeth. Skizz can’t help but think it looks a little….forced. “Fine. Keep your secrets, sir. That’s s’alright.” Pearl turns and goes back to her corner. They sit in tense silence for a while, and Skizz takes the chance to look Pearl over.
She’s on the younger side, judging by the size of her wings, maybe as old as Gem looks. Skizz isn’t really sure how avian age works - Pearl could still be a fledgling, for all he knows. What he does know is that she doesn’t have a flock. Or got taken from it. The feather’s he can see from under her cloak are in disarray, oily and skewed in places. Pearl clearly hasn’t had a good preening session in a hot minute. “Where do you go when you’re not here?” Skizz asks slowly. “Do you live with you Soulbound?”
“Gods no.” Pearl laughs, like the idea is insane. “I live in the woods! With my dogs.”
Skizz gapes. “...In the woods. With your dogs. No other companions?”
The face Pearl makes breaks his heart. It looks like loneliness, grief, and longing, all wrapped up into one tense expression. She wipes it off her face quickly, forcing her lips into a grin. “My dogs are all I need,” she says. Skizz has a feeling she doesn’t believe it.
He doesn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he looks down at her arm. “Did they bandage it?”
“Course they did,” Pearl scoffs, shaking the cloak off her arm to show Skizz the pristine white bandages. “Can’t have their King bleeding out, can they?” That’s all she says. She turns on her side, back to Skizz, and pulls her cloak tightly around shoulders.
Skizz hums to himself, shaking his wings out so they’re not cramped between the wall and his back. There’s something going on here, with Pearl and the King and soulbonds. Skizz doesn’t have the full context, but he knows one thing. Pearl is lonely and it’s killing her.
SKizz doesn’t fall asleep again, not really, just kind of drifts. His eyes and ears stay alert, but the rest of him drops into something similar to a meditative state, a way to regain his energy while also being aware of what’s going on around him. So when the ground rumbles, little stones dropping from the roof of the dungeon, he’s very aware of it. A tiny smile curls on his lips. About time. He wonders which of them is doing the rampage – Gem is a real badass when she needs to be, but Impulse has a protective streak a mile wide and he’s got the skills to back it up.
The rumbling gets a little closer and Skizz hops to his feet. His legs aren’t shaking as much now, thankfully, but his magic is a little out or reach right now – a countermeasure to make sure he doesn’t use any while he’s recovering. Across the way, the avian is looking towards the entrance of the dungeon with narrow eyes. “What’s happening?” She demands, glancing at Skizz.
“Rescue,” he replies with a grin.
At the same time, the dungeon door blasts off its hinges with so much force it slams into the wall at the end of the hall. Standing at the entrance is Impulse, in all his 5’7 Netherborn glory. There’s an orange underglow to his scales and his eyes are quite literally giving off sparks. Smoke is curling from his nostrils. “You look like a dragon, dude!” Skizz says giddily.
From the corner of Skizz’s eye, he sees something in Pearl’s face shatter.
“Can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” Impulse asks, stopping at the door to Skizz’s cell. He stops for a second, looking the door up and down, and then wraps his hands around the bars and starts pulling. Eventually, he yanks the door off the hinges, throwing it down next to him. Skizz is faintly impressed. “Come on. Gem’s having too much fun with those explosives, she’s going to end up killing someone.”
“Wait!” Skizz grabs Impulse’s arm, forcibly turning him so he’s looking at Pearl’s cell. “Can you get her out too?”
Pearl makes a faint noise at the back of her throat, faltering under Impulse’s fiery gaze. “It’s fine, don’t worry about me,” she says, but her voice is trembling a little. “Scott’ll let me out eventually.”
“Screw Scott,” Skizz says, and he’s surprised by how much he means it. “We’re letting you out. And you’re welcome to travel with us, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”
Pearl hesitated, watching as Impulse pulled her door open. “Could I stop by my tower?” She asks, voice timid and small. Skizz nods emphatically, and a small smile dawns over her face. “Then I would love to travel with you guys.”