Prompt# 188 - Alkaline - The Night - Tekia - Original

[tekia.livejournal.com]

Title: The Night
Fandom: Original/Exalted
Prompt: Alkaline
Warnings: n/a
Rating: PG 13
Summary: Faila and Shale are Solars in a world that hates Solars.

Faila scowled into the night, wondering when all the lights had been put out. She scratched her chin with one finger and shifted on her stool as she glanced behind her.
Yup those lights were out too.
Her eyes narrowed and she wondered if she had drank too much. Her balance on the stool was precarious and she thought that perhaps she was seeing double. It was hard to tell in the darkness.
Where had the lights gone?
Oh yeah, it was night.
She stood and heard a bottle drop from her lap to the ground. She blinked down at the brown glass as it rolled away, the mouth pouring amber liquid. She hissed and bent to scoop the bottle back up, to save the drink. Blood rushed to her head and she lost her balance, tripping forward just as a whistle pierced the air. She fumbled with the bottle and collapsed on her rear, blinking up at the blade of a sword passing her by.
Eyes wide, she cursed and gaped at the man in black, now pulling his sword back for another attack.
“Fuck me,” she spat, struggling to her feet and darting out of sword’s reach. The man followed and she skipped down the road, toward the inn Shale had acquired for them for that night. She tripped over her own two feet and felt the brush of air as the sword passed her over once again.
The man cursed, his voice low and full of irritation. As if she wasn’t worth this effort.
Snorting, Faila spun about to lay on her back, her bottle held carefully to her chest. She couldn’t see the man’s face at all, only a shadow, but she could see his form framed by the bright light of the moon.
See, not all the lights were out. Luna still watched over the darkened world. Then she frowned. She wasn’t happy with Luna just now, so should she be grateful for the god’s help?
It didn’t matter. She kicked out, her foot found the man’s ankle and his body dropped when the bone gave under the force. As curses filled the night, she pushed herself forward, took one last swig of the drink, and brought the bottle down on the man’s head.
He slumped over, his sword dropping from his lax hand.
Just then, “Faila, you’re crazy!”
She looked up to see Shale not but a few paces away from her, his own bottle of drink forgotten in one hand, his eyes wide. She grinned as he dropped to his knees beside her, looking at her attacker. She followed his gaze and felt proud of herself.
See, she wasn’t useless.
“He ain’t your regular footpad, Faila,” Shale said, pointing one finger from those curled around the neck of his bottle.
“He ain’t?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him. Luna’s light glowed in his white hair, but left his face in shadows. Oh, that’s because the moon was behind him. She leaned forward to better see his face.
“He ain’t,” he repeated.
She turned back to the unconscious man, lost her balance once again, and fell to her rump with a grunt. “Who is he?”
Shale scratched the back of his head. “That’s our host.”
The man was waking up now, groaning and putting a hand to his head where a small trail of blood was seeping from a cut from the bottle.
“Oh,” Faila said. She realized that she still had the broken bottle in hand and tossed it to the side. “He started it.”
“Bloody anathema.”
Faila felt her body grow cold at the words, and beside her, Shale stilled. They both turned sharp eyes to the man, tension thick in the air.
So, he knew.
Still.
Faila sat up on her knees and grabbed the man by his ear, pulling him up so she could growl into his face. “Stupid man. Did you really think that taking a sword and swinging it about would help you at all? If you knew we were demon, what in the name of the five dragons made you think you could take us on!?”
Before she could go much further into a rant, Shale disentangled the man from her grip and shoved Faila away.
“Go to the room. Sober up. We have to get out of here quickly.”
“Why should we leave? He started it.”
Shale pointed, his face stern, not unlike her mother’s had been when Faila had done or said something stupid. She knew that look. Pouting, she turned on her heel and left the man to Shale. “Well he did start it.”
Without too much stumbling, she found their inn and mourned the loss of her buzz. It wasn’t fair, she thought, letting herself into the rooms. They were always being chased out of towns. First it was her own family chasing her out, then every town they ever visited. Because they were demon. Anathema.
She dropped down on her bed and sighed. She should be used to it by now. It’d been years since her exaltation, and years since she had been welcomed by anybody save for other exalts. She rubbed a hand over her eyes and sat up.
She had better start cleaning up so when Shale returned they could hit the road. Her stuff was quickly packed into her bag, but Shale’s was more trouble.
His room had been transformed in a matter of moments into some sort of alchemist’s lab. She wrinkled her nose as the smell and inched closer to the table lined with glass jars and tubes. She didn’t know a lick about any of this stuff and had always admired Shale for his smarts. He was a genius among humans, a master of the arts among Solars. All of his instruments were laid out on the table and it looked like he had started on something new before they had gone out drinking. It didn’t surprise her at all, really. And it didn’t surprise her that his bag of clothes was still laying on the bed, unpacked, untouched, unlike his chemistry set, alkaline and powders and potions and magic scattered all over the table, set to boiling and soaking.
She reached out a hand to touch a glass and the door opened, Shale stepping through, a splatter of blood across his cheek.
Pale blue eyes narrowed at her. “I knew you were up to something no good.” Instantly he was between her and the table, arms spread out to protect his toys from her. Like a big brother irate at his little sister intruding in his room. She stuck out her tongue at him and he returned the gesture, going so far as to squeeze his eyes tightly closed.
“You told me to pack our stuff.”
He waved a hand at her, turning to gather his things into their proper places. “Not this stuff. This is dangerous stuff.” His head popped up and he blinked. “You know this stuff.” Then he grinned at her over his shoulder, so proud of his jest.
She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. It wasn’t fair that she was sober when he wasn’t.
“So where are we going to go now? We’ve been traveling steadily north, and I really don’t want to go too far into the North.” She shivered. “I heard it’s cold there.”
Shale nodded. “It is.”
“You’ve been?”
“I was born there. Lived my mortal life there.”
Faila sat on the bed and watched Shale pack his potions and inventions. “So where will we go?”
Shale finally finished and rested his hands on the latch of his bag, a small, sad smile curving his lips as he looked at her. “Wherever the road takes us. It’s the only option open to us, love.”