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blueheronteanookTitle: Regret
Rating: Teen
Major Warnings: No Major Warnings Apply
Genre: Canon Compliant
Summary: Before the end, Miss and Toadswallow talk about what could have been.
The edges of the ritual rippled as a tossed rock passed through them. It didn't seem to have any effect, but Toadswallow wanted to toss a few more in there, just to be sure. Rome wasn't sacked in a day, after all. And if each rock he threw in was something the Carmine had to account for, even if only for a fraction of a second, then he had no qualms about making the man's day a little bit worse.
A ritual incarnate, designed to take the worst and brightest practitioner-kind had to offer and grind them into grist in the hopes that some day, a modern Solomon would rise out of the pile of corpses and fix things the way the Exile had wanted to. The man was calling it the crucible, which was in Toadswallow's opinion (and if anyone could be called an expert on the subject, then he certainly could) an absolutely terrible name. Absolutely no style, not memorable at all. It was, if Verona was to be believed, something the man struggled with in all of his summoning endeavors; he could make a monster capable of inducing shit into the britches of even the most hardened man, but he couldn't name his creations worth a damn. If Toadswallow was able to speak to the man one last time, he'd be sure to give him a proper-dressing down for his failures.
There was no way a goblin of his stature could stop the Carmine Exile's plan, but he could sure as hell try to place the popped cherry on his shit-sundae.
“Nervous, Sir Toadswallow?” asked the faceless demiurge twenty times his size.
It was a question that, had one of his crew asked, would have him respond with a witty retort and a put-down of their intelligence. Coming from Miss, though, it deserved an honest answer.
”Course I'm fucking nervous. It's the last-ditch effort of a man with nothing to lose and his back against the wall, designed to kill everyone who enters it. If I wasn't nervous, I'd ask you to smack me upside the head until my brain started working properly.“
Miss made a sound of acknowledgement. Toadswallow wasn't sure if she was capable of feeling fear, but he would bet his left testicle she was feeling the closest emotion she could.
He threw another rock into the wall of the crucible. ”If you could do it all again, knowing what you know now, would you?“ he asked.
Miss was silent, so he continued. “Knowing that John died despite their best efforts, that Kennet would be near unrecognizable compared to the start of summer... how many of us end up dying. Would you still pick the girls? Or would you have just done what we all assumed you were going to do, pick some idiot for the sake of being able to say we have someone working on it, and continue running things the way we were before?”
“It's a question I've asked myself multiple times,” Miss admitted. ”I spent so much time trying to prevent myself from being tied down, only to be permanently attached to a part of Kennet. My dream, a place where Others could exist without fear of practitioners, is gone. We're too entangled with the outside world to ever get it back.“
Whatever Toadswallow was expecting her answer to be, it wasn't this. He turned away from the edge of the Crucible to look at Miss, face hidden behind the the treeline.
”But,“ Miss continued, ”What would we have done when Charles took the Carmine throne?“
”Work with him?“ Toadswallow replied. ”It's not like he was against us from the very start. We could have allied with him, let him keep practitioners out of Kennet and gotten his petty revenge against Alexander Belanger.“
”Would you be so willing to work with the man who killed John Stiles?“ Miss asked.
”I've worked with worse people,“ Toadswallow said. ”Which reminds me, if we survive, I need to ask you about some more prospective bodyguards for the market. Clara's taking some time off, and Killwagon's still a bit fucked in the head from dying.“
”If there's still a market, we can discuss it with the council,“ Miss said. ”And speaking of, did the girls not get you the market you wanted? Even if I wasn't happy with how my projects turned out, I can't simply ignore the good they've done for others. They were few candidates in Kennet who would have been so willing to deal with the Hungry Choir.“
”The same Choir who lent a majority of power to the perimiter, I may add,” Toadswallow argued. “Made our lives a lot harder when it was bound.”
”There were no other candidates who would have found the proof that Edith was poisoning Matthew,“ Miss shot back. ”Unless you'd object to that being a good thing as well.“
Toadswallow did not.
”They helped far more than they needed to in helping the ghouls settle in,“ Miss continued. ”They got you your goblin sage. There was one other candidate who would have been willing to become a path runner, and he would not have given the sacrificing of his boon companion a second thought.”
“I'm not saying they haven't done us a heaping load of good. I'm simply saying that if we'd done things differently, maybe instead of preparing to risk my life, I'd be curled up in some dark, moist place with my lady, doing unmentionable things to each other.”
“Your point is made, Toadswallow. To give your question a definitive answer, no. I've lived a very long life, and done things I regret. Picking the girls was not one of them. Do you disagree with my decision?”
”I'd have to be some kind of fucking idiot to disagree with your decision. Those girls have helped me build something I can actually be proud of. To be honest, I don't think I deserve them on my side.”
He felt Miss's gaze on him intensify, silently asking him what the fucking point of the conversation was.
“I just wanted one last argument before we throw ourselves into uncertain death. Who knows, maybe being an annoying shit will give me the boost to my self I need to survive?”
Miss sighed, an expression he felt more than he heard.
He turned back to the crucible, which had spread outward as they were talking. It was right in front of him now, close enough to touch. Toadswallow looked at the remaining rocks he'd managed to gather. He offered one to Miss, and looked away as something that wasn't a hand grabbed it.
They threw at the same time, the wall of the ritual rippling as it passed over them both.
Rating: Teen
Major Warnings: No Major Warnings Apply
Genre: Canon Compliant
Summary: Before the end, Miss and Toadswallow talk about what could have been.
The edges of the ritual rippled as a tossed rock passed through them. It didn't seem to have any effect, but Toadswallow wanted to toss a few more in there, just to be sure. Rome wasn't sacked in a day, after all. And if each rock he threw in was something the Carmine had to account for, even if only for a fraction of a second, then he had no qualms about making the man's day a little bit worse.
A ritual incarnate, designed to take the worst and brightest practitioner-kind had to offer and grind them into grist in the hopes that some day, a modern Solomon would rise out of the pile of corpses and fix things the way the Exile had wanted to. The man was calling it the crucible, which was in Toadswallow's opinion (and if anyone could be called an expert on the subject, then he certainly could) an absolutely terrible name. Absolutely no style, not memorable at all. It was, if Verona was to be believed, something the man struggled with in all of his summoning endeavors; he could make a monster capable of inducing shit into the britches of even the most hardened man, but he couldn't name his creations worth a damn. If Toadswallow was able to speak to the man one last time, he'd be sure to give him a proper-dressing down for his failures.
There was no way a goblin of his stature could stop the Carmine Exile's plan, but he could sure as hell try to place the popped cherry on his shit-sundae.
“Nervous, Sir Toadswallow?” asked the faceless demiurge twenty times his size.
It was a question that, had one of his crew asked, would have him respond with a witty retort and a put-down of their intelligence. Coming from Miss, though, it deserved an honest answer.
”Course I'm fucking nervous. It's the last-ditch effort of a man with nothing to lose and his back against the wall, designed to kill everyone who enters it. If I wasn't nervous, I'd ask you to smack me upside the head until my brain started working properly.“
Miss made a sound of acknowledgement. Toadswallow wasn't sure if she was capable of feeling fear, but he would bet his left testicle she was feeling the closest emotion she could.
He threw another rock into the wall of the crucible. ”If you could do it all again, knowing what you know now, would you?“ he asked.
Miss was silent, so he continued. “Knowing that John died despite their best efforts, that Kennet would be near unrecognizable compared to the start of summer... how many of us end up dying. Would you still pick the girls? Or would you have just done what we all assumed you were going to do, pick some idiot for the sake of being able to say we have someone working on it, and continue running things the way we were before?”
“It's a question I've asked myself multiple times,” Miss admitted. ”I spent so much time trying to prevent myself from being tied down, only to be permanently attached to a part of Kennet. My dream, a place where Others could exist without fear of practitioners, is gone. We're too entangled with the outside world to ever get it back.“
Whatever Toadswallow was expecting her answer to be, it wasn't this. He turned away from the edge of the Crucible to look at Miss, face hidden behind the the treeline.
”But,“ Miss continued, ”What would we have done when Charles took the Carmine throne?“
”Work with him?“ Toadswallow replied. ”It's not like he was against us from the very start. We could have allied with him, let him keep practitioners out of Kennet and gotten his petty revenge against Alexander Belanger.“
”Would you be so willing to work with the man who killed John Stiles?“ Miss asked.
”I've worked with worse people,“ Toadswallow said. ”Which reminds me, if we survive, I need to ask you about some more prospective bodyguards for the market. Clara's taking some time off, and Killwagon's still a bit fucked in the head from dying.“
”If there's still a market, we can discuss it with the council,“ Miss said. ”And speaking of, did the girls not get you the market you wanted? Even if I wasn't happy with how my projects turned out, I can't simply ignore the good they've done for others. They were few candidates in Kennet who would have been so willing to deal with the Hungry Choir.“
”The same Choir who lent a majority of power to the perimiter, I may add,” Toadswallow argued. “Made our lives a lot harder when it was bound.”
”There were no other candidates who would have found the proof that Edith was poisoning Matthew,“ Miss shot back. ”Unless you'd object to that being a good thing as well.“
Toadswallow did not.
”They helped far more than they needed to in helping the ghouls settle in,“ Miss continued. ”They got you your goblin sage. There was one other candidate who would have been willing to become a path runner, and he would not have given the sacrificing of his boon companion a second thought.”
“I'm not saying they haven't done us a heaping load of good. I'm simply saying that if we'd done things differently, maybe instead of preparing to risk my life, I'd be curled up in some dark, moist place with my lady, doing unmentionable things to each other.”
“Your point is made, Toadswallow. To give your question a definitive answer, no. I've lived a very long life, and done things I regret. Picking the girls was not one of them. Do you disagree with my decision?”
”I'd have to be some kind of fucking idiot to disagree with your decision. Those girls have helped me build something I can actually be proud of. To be honest, I don't think I deserve them on my side.”
He felt Miss's gaze on him intensify, silently asking him what the fucking point of the conversation was.
“I just wanted one last argument before we throw ourselves into uncertain death. Who knows, maybe being an annoying shit will give me the boost to my self I need to survive?”
Miss sighed, an expression he felt more than he heard.
He turned back to the crucible, which had spread outward as they were talking. It was right in front of him now, close enough to touch. Toadswallow looked at the remaining rocks he'd managed to gather. He offered one to Miss, and looked away as something that wasn't a hand grabbed it.
They threw at the same time, the wall of the ritual rippling as it passed over them both.
no subject
Date: 2023-10-08 02:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-10-09 07:59 pm (UTC)As a heads up, I changed the tags on here from rating: general to rating: teen.