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tamingthemuseTitle: Room for Improvement 1.5
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Discordance
Warnings:
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After falling into a trap, the first order of business it to find out where you are. But, if where you are makes no sense, then what are you supposed to do? Traveling to the future is easy, just fall asleep, right? Waking up to a whole different world is harder. Luckily, Tony Stark can adapt to any environment.
“Who are the Maidens?”
“What?” Iron Dust glanced at him over his shoulder. The ferry bounced on the waves of the unruly river, throwing up a splattering of water that dampened his hair.
“White Song said yesterday that I knew of the Maidens, but not Luna. Who are the Maidens? I assume Venus is one of them.”
Iron Dust nodded and settled on the floor of the ferry where Tony had planted himself as soon as they had gotten underway. The man that steered the ferry was a massive man, easily twice Tony’s size, with arms that could probably crush Tony without noticing. He had his back toward them, a frown directed down river.
White Song hadn’t reappeared with the morning, and Iron Dust had no quam about leaving without her. With her super-secret ninja skills, Tony didn’t have a doubt that she would easily catch up with them.
As Iron Dust settled beside Tony, a white and grey seagull landed on the ferry, feathers ruffled up against the chill on the river. Tony stared at the creature and only broke his stare when the bird seemed to return his glare. Weird world, with all its weird creatures, first a fork that cleaned itself like a cat, and now a seagull could give Natasha’s glare a run for its money.
“There are five Maidens, and they are the stars of fate. They are the sisters of Luna, the moon, and the Unconquered Sun, their brother and king of the gods.”
“Why is White Song so angry that Luna came to you?” She had been nearly spitting with rage when she mocked him for saying that Luna had come to the two of them. More jealously.
Iron Dust looked over at the seagull that now had its back toward them. “She is Chosen by Luna. I am not. It is most unusual for Luna to come to any that are not her Chosen.”
“So, why did she come to you?”
Iron Dust shrugged. “Only she knows.”
They made great time on the river, and it was just after noon when they spotted a town on the river. Iron Dust narrowed his eyes as they approached, then stood and went to hover behind the ferryman. He cursed softly. Tony stood.
“What’s the matter?”
“Trouble, we can’t go there.”
“I thought we were staying on the river until we reached Great Forks?”
“That was the plan,” Iron Dust said, distractedly looking over the ferry’s side down into the water. “Can you swim?”
Tony followed him and gazed down at the churning water. “Yes, but I’d really rather not.”
“There’s no choice. We have to flee before we get to the town.” He turned back to the ferryman. “I’ll pay for your silence and more aside if you wait for us on the other side of the town.” The man eyed him skeptically.
“What trouble do you bring my way?”
Something then changed about Iron Dust. The stressed look that had been on his face since Tony had met him was suddenly gone and his eyes were no long that cold yellow, but warm liquid gold. He smiled charmingly at the man, one hand coming up in a demure way to his own neck. He lowered his lashes and looked up at the man through the silver fringe. “You will forget us on your craft and you will seek us out on the other side of the town.”
Tony watched, aghast, as the man nodded dumbly. Iron Dust turned away and he returned to his normal focused self. “Jump, Iron Man, we have no time to waste.”
“Did you just Jedi Mind Trick him?”
“I don’t know what that means. Get a move on it.” He put a hand on Tony shoulder and turned him toward the rush of water under their feet.
“Oh god,” Tony moaned before he leaped.
Cold water rushed over his head, stealing his breath. He sank, billions of bubbles rising up around him, confusing him. For an endless moment, fear took hold and he remembered how much he had learned to hate being submerged. He kicked his legs out and struggled for the surface, his heart loud in his ears and his breath straining in his lungs.
A strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled resolutely upward. Water rushed over his head as they emerged, and Tony gasped gratefully for fresh air. This air was his favorite air. It was the best air ever to exit. The arm around his waist moved away as he found his balance on the surface, treading water. He turned to face his rescuer, and was surprised to find that it was White Song.
She grinned at him, white teeth gleaming. “Thought you could swim? Maybe if you died, we’d find our quest finished.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” He bit his lip. “Uh, thanks for saving me. That current is deadly.”
She nodded. “Iron Dust doesn’t think, sometimes. He forgets you’re only human.”
Speaking of the man, Tony looked for him and found him not too far away, motioning them to follow. As Tony began swimming toward him, White Song ducked into the water and didn’t emerge again until she was next to Iron Dust.
“What do you see,” she asked him.
Iron Dust spit out a mouthful of water and cast his eyes toward the town. “There’s a host of Dynasts waiting us there.”
White Song cursed and ducked underwater again. Tony waited, but she never reemerged. He turned to Iron Dust. “What does that mean?”
Iron Dust cast him a scandalized look before he shook his head. “They will kill us, and probably you as well, as soon as they can.” He started swimming toward the far shore. “They are why we are called demons.”
Iron Dust dragged himself out of the water, his silk robes and trousers clinging to him, making him look even smaller than ever. He reminded Tony of a wet cat. Tony himself was alright in his jeans and band tee, his arc reactor now glowing happily through the wet fabric. Iron Dust turned to offer Tony a hand up the bank, then stood staring at the blue glow on Tony’s chest.
Tony scratched at his chest. The shirt had been thick enough to hide the glow from sight when dry, but now it was clearly visible.
There was a call as the ferryman greeted those on the dock, and that tore Iron Dust’s attention from Tony. Tony breathed a sigh of relief and wiped water from his face. “So, the Dynasts don’t like you. What did you do?”
“I was born.” He turned away and walked deeper into the forest. Tony watched the ferryman throw a rope to the man on the dock, and then turned away. He had decided to throw his lot in with these two, and it was probably too late to change his mind now. Although, a bed was a tempting thought.
“So they’re racists. That’s nice. Some things never change. What about me? They don’t know me; why would they want to kill me?”
Iron Dust smiled. “Do you want a list?”
He thought about that for a moment. “You know, I’ve only been here for a few days and already have a list of reasons why people want me dead. I think it’s a new record.”
Iron Dust chuckled. “Your biggest sin is traveling with us.”
“Demons.”
“Yes.”
“Depending on how you defined demon.”
“Indeed.”
“Right. So, who are these dynasts?”
They were now out of sight of the town and Iron Dust paused next to a tree to gather his hair over one shoulder and began wringing out the excess water. “They are blessed by the Dragons and rule over the Blessed Isle. This far out East, they’re Hunting.”
“Hunting us?”
“Those like us. Me and White Song. You’re a human,” his eyes flicked down to Tony’s chest, then back to his face, “But maybe they’ll hunt you as well. Guilt by association.”
“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel better about myself.”
Iron Dust sighed and bent in half to untie his sandal from his foot. “Luna has left her mark on you. For that, they will hunt you.”
Tony’s eyes went wide. “She left a mark on me? Where?”
Iron Dust dropped his shoe and knocked a knuckle against the arc reactor. “Does the moonlight not glow from your chest?” Tony covered the glow with his hand.
“It’s not moonlight. I built this. Nobody put this on me, except for me.”
“I don’t believe that. You said you lived when by all rights you should have died. You did that on your own?”
Tony’s lips tightened. “A doctor saved me.”
Iron Dust smiled, his eyes once more taking on that eerie glow. “Saved you and set you on your path. Changed your life.”
Tony hissed in a breath. “How do you know?”
“His touched still glows on you.” Iron Dust tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowed like a cat’s. “Did he have yellow eyes?”
“No,” Tony said, instantly. Yensin had not had yellow eyes. They had been brown, a warm brown that was near whisky in color. He refused to acknowledge that he had seen Yensin’s eyes in the sunlight once, and they had glowed yellow. A trick of the light, of exhaustion and hunger. “No.”
Iron Dust nodded, his smile still in place, as if he knew Tony lied. Quickly, Tony rushed to cover his doubts. “What does it mean, yellow eyes?”
“It’s the color of his maiden,” White Song said, appearing from between two trees, soaked. Her hair clung to her ribs and cheeks, her blue eyes bright. “Those Chosen by the maidens are given their colors as their eye colors.” She held up a bag and tossed it toward Tony. He caught it against his chest. “Change into that, you stand out too much currently.”
She stared at his chest a moment before looking toward Iron Dust. He shook his head, and she shrugged. They stood in silence before Tony gave a start. “Oh, you want me to change right here, right now.” White Song arched a brow and Iron Dust focused on removing the knot of his second sandal.
She wasn’t looking away, so he mentally shrugged. “Right.” He quickly stripped the wet clothes from his body and pulled on the brown trousers and red tunic. They were wool and warm and so much more comfortable than his wet jeans. They heavy wool covered his arc reactor’s glow from sight. White Song had included a belt to clench the tunic, and boots that weren’t unlike Steve’s uniform boots.
He felt like a Greek pirate. He just needed a gold hoop in his ear and his disguise would be complete. Stuffing his clothes in the bag, he grinned at White Song. “Like what you saw?”
She smirked, “I’ve seen better.”
He returned her smirk. “I’m sure.”
Iron Dust rolled his eyes and shoved away from the tree, his sandals now tied firmly to his belt. “Let us go. We have to meet the ferryman before sunset.”
“Does your Jedi Mind Trick wear off then? Oh, does the ferry turn into a pumpkin at midnight?” They pair eyed them as if they were worried about his sanity and he shrugged. They marched through the forest, and for once, White Song stayed with them. She guided them through the forest, ever eastward.
Once they had skirted the town, she led them toward the river once more and they waited for the ferry to arrive. The sun was still heavy in the sky, just kissing the trees of the forest. White Song disappeared into the water once more, and Iron Dust settled against a tree, resting his eyes.
Tony spent a moment watching the man before he let his own thoughts cloud his head.
Somehow, he had been drawn back in time. The people here believed in gods and goddesses and really did believe that they did their will. True, Iron Dust had knowledge about Tony’s life that not even Pepper knew. He had yet to see those things that were supposedly hunting him, and he had no clue where they were really headed. As far as he knew, they could be leading him into another trap, expertly executed by The Hour at Hand.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He just didn’t know who to trust. This pair of travelers that claimed to do the will of gods, or his own doubts. He had no compass in this world, and only these two to help him. But then he was clever, and if they proved untrustworthy, then he can just ditch them and find is own way home.
Maybe find a god of time on his own, he thought with a smile.
Iron Dust sat up and gazed up the river. Tony followed his gaze and noticed the ferry making its way toward them. Tony stood and Iron Dust hissed. Iron Dust did that a lot. Tony looked down at him.
“What?”
“You would have been wise to stay hidden from sight.” He stood and stepped toward the bank. Now that the ferry was closer, Iron Dust waved a hand and the ferryman threw out a rope. “Be prepared,” Iron Dust warned as he pulled the ferry closer.
There was only the ferryman on the wooden planking. Tony looked back to Iron Dust, but the man was busy loading their bags onto the ferry. Soon, they were both on the boat and once more moving downstream.
“What,” he started to ask, but a sudden gush of wind swirled around him, stealing his breath. The raft rocked as the river picked up, and the ferryman cried out, huddling down, arms thrown up over his head.
A man landed from above, his heavy boots clanging against the wood. He held a sword in his hand, and a smirk on his lips under his helm. His armor was a vibrant red and his tunic under it was white. His hair, where it fell out from under his helmet was also white, a hint of blue to the strands. He was a large man under his armor, and Tony fell back, suddenly afraid.
He’d seen this man before as well. He fought with Thor, using his lightning against him. Even now, the air crackled with the charge.
“I’ve heard rumors that there was a man that traveled with a demon woman, and that he had sold his soul to the demons in turn.”
“Is that what you know?”
The man chuckled. “Your demon eyes are proof enough.” He struck out with his sword, but Iron Dust was suddenly not in its path. The armored man cursed and spun on his foot. He caught sight of Tony, frowned, and then stumbled forward as Iron Dust reappeared and shoved him off balance.
He turned to once more face Iron Dust and Tony jumped to his feet, weaponless, but needing to help. He fisted his hands together and raised them to attack, but White Song suddenly grabbed him. “Where did you come from?”
“Shush, and do nothing. Iron Dust will take care of him. You stay out of it. Luna has told us that you must not fight. You must not Exalt, he said.”
He looked at her over his shoulder where she was pressed bodily to him. “Fighting means I’ll Exalt? I’ve fought for years now.”
She shook her head. “You must not here.”
Their attacker cried out, pulling their attention back to the fight. He had dropped his sword and faced Iron Dust in a fighter’s stance. Iron Dust also stood in a fighting stance, his face carefully blank, empty hands raised in defense.
The man attacked with a punch, which Iron Dust caught in his palm, twisting him about and nearly dumping him into the river. He caught himself and turned about, one foot kicking out to catch Iron Dust’s knee. Iron Dust danced out of harm’s way.
“Can’t you just Jedi Mind Trick him, too?”
“Doesn’t work on nonhumans,” Iron Dust returned without looking at him. All of his attention was on the man before him as his face crumpled with rage and he attacked. His attack was nearly too fast for Tony to follow, punches and kicks that looked more like dancing with how Iron Dust dodged and skipped around them.
Iron Dust caught another punch, spun and lifted the man over his shoulder. He deposited him into the river and turned to face the ferryman, his hair falling around his face. “Steer us clear.” The man nodded frantically and groped for his stick. Iron Dust went to the head of the raft and folded his arms before him.
White Song finally released Tony and sat on the floor. “Sit, Iron Man, you’ll not want to be standing for this.”
“What?”
“Sit.” She reached up and pulled him down. He collapsed beside her and looked at the rioting water where the man had fallen in. He hadn’t emerged yet, and Tony blamed his armor. Thankfully, his armor was waterproof and the jets worked underwater.
Then he was knocked backwards as the ferry took off at an unreasonable speed. He pulled himself upright and gaped at the water that was passing them by. The raft had a yellow glow around it, and, when he turned his eyes toward Iron Dust, the man was glowing with that yellow halo as well.
The landscape passed them by in a blur, the wind ripping at their hair. The ride was smoother than their first trip on the ferry, the waves of the river no longer bumping them along. A quick glance over the side confirmed that they were no longer riding on the water, but over it.
“What’s happening?”
White Song reached out and pulled him close. “Those that are the Chosen of Journeys can move as fast as a breath, unhindered by fate.” She nodded toward Iron Dust. “He is Chosen by Mercury, Maiden of Journeys.”
“The yellow eyes.”
“Yes.” She stared at him. “We are Chosen, Iron Man, by the celestial gods. The Terrestrials would see us removed from this world, and if they succeed, then Creation will be lost to Chaos.”
He held her gaze. “I find this hard to believe. There are no gods in my world.” Which was true. Thor and Loki were aliens, not gods. Right? Right.
White Song’s face went hard. “Let’s just hope they’re hidden and not gone.” She turned away and watched Iron Dust carefully. “We will travel to Great Forks under this spell, but as soon as we arrive, Iron Dust must rest. He will, of course, refuse, but he must rest.”
Tony mentally snorted. That sounded familiar, too.
“While the two of you rest, I’ll go into Great Forks and see if we can’t find what we’re looking for. Let’s also hope that Hunt doesn’t follow us.”
“Will they?”
“They may. Iron Dust didn’t kill him, so he may come after us.”
Tony nodded and turned his eyes on Iron Dust. Watching the landscape speed by was giving him a headache.
For a while there was nothing but trees and the odd village or town on the river. White Song assured him that the people wouldn’t notice them, Iron Dust’s magic hiding them from sight. Well, she never quite called it magic, neither one of them did, but it fell firmly under the magic file in Tony’s head. Then, in the direction they were headed, the trees gave way to a great expanse of savanna. The tall grasses blurred at the speed at which they were traveling. In the distance, there was a smudge that quickly grew into the silhouette of a city that sprawled out not unlike the cities Tony was more familiar with.
The boat didn’t slow down so much as come to a sudden stop, plopping into the river. Water washed over the sides and soaked Tony once more. He made a face and stood from where he had tipped forward.
Night was nearly giving way to dawn, the moon heavy in the sky, and the eastern sky turning grey with the sun’s promise. White Song easily gained her feet and went to Iron Dust, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“Come, our friends will welcome us.”
Iron Dust nodded and turned to the ferryman. He stared the man down, and then offered him payment. What Tony assumed was payment. It looked to be chips of stone in bright colors. The ferryman murmured words in yet another foreign language to Tony, but he easily guessed it to be a prayer. If he were a lesser man, Tony might himself fall to prayer after that experience.
They unloaded and hiked the rest of the way to the nearest building. It was a squat cabin made of mud brick, but the one beyond that was a better sight. It was two stories at least, white washed, and well-kept. White Song led Iron Dust to the door and then let him go in alone. Tony came to stand beside her.
“He’ll get a room for us. Make him sleep.” She pressed a finger to the middle of his chest, her nail clanking against the reactor. “He hasn’t really slept since Luna gave him this mission, so I’m making it your duty to see to it that he rests.”
He made a face. “I don’t know if I’m the best choice to be a mother hen. Hell, I need three to keep me in line.” Look, that’s progress, right, admitting when you need help? Or, close enough in his book. He deserved a cookie.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m trusting you with him.”
Tony arched a brow. “Is that what’s happening?”
“I’m going to see how the wind blows farther in the city. I’ll be back by nightfall.” She turned on her heel and jogged off into the approaching day. Tony watched her go, scratching idly at the arc reactor.
What a development. They knew about as much about him as he did about them, and she, who quite clearly disliked him, was trusting him with Iron Dust. Well, whatever that meant.
The man was small and frail looking, but Tony had felt his hidden strength. And with his magic, Tony wasn’t sure that he could take on Iron Dust and win. Maybe they didn’t know that. Maybe with his armor he could.
His armor!
“Hey!” He started to race down the path after the woman. “Give me my armor back!”
She paused, and even from a distance, he could see her roll her eyes. She turned to face him, holding her arms out before her. As he stumbled to a stop before her, the air shimmered as if heated, and suddenly the bag that he had stuffed his armor in days ago appeared in her hands. She held it out to him.
“Um,” he said, his hands suddenly itchy and crawling. “Just set it down. I’ll pick it up.”
She frowned at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head, which was really unfair, because animated fork! She shook her head and dropped the bag.
“Careful! That’s highly expensive!”
“Get back to the inn and do your job,” she returned, continuing her trek up the path.
He watched her go a moment, then his eyes turned to the city.
Not unlike New York, there was a glow to the city from the many lights. It was nearly dawn, but shadows still clung between buildings and alleys. He could almost hear the steady thrum of people waking up and beginning their days. He had a sharp pain of homesickness nearly steal his breath.
So far he had merely been going along with what they had already decided, trusting them to return him home, but what if it didn’t work? What if they failed and he got into a fight and he Exalted as they feared he might?
Taking a deep, bracing breath, he turned back toward the inn and tried to ignore how the numbers were stacked against him getting home.
Iron Dust was standing in the doorway when he returned with his armor. He dropped the bag at his feet and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I wish this was the briefcase armor. This one is far too heavy to be lugging about.”
He looked up from the armor and noticed for the first time how tired Iron Dust looked and that his nose was beginning to bleed. “She wasn’t kidding, Dust Bunny, you really are ready to fall over.”
Iron Dust frowned at him. “Where is White Song?”
“She said she was going to see how the wind’s blowing. It’s just you and me today, pal.” He grinned. “A boys’ day in. Are we going to have a real bed? I want a real bed.”
He nodded. “Yes.” He picked up the bag with the armor in it with one hand, making Tony once more feel about as strong as a leaf on the breeze. He followed the eerily strong man back into the building and up a flight of stairs that made him realize that maybe he did have a bit of claustrophobia. It wasn’t a nice experience.
Their room had about as much floor space as a S.H.I.E.L.D broom closet, but it did have a bed, which Tony flopped down on as soon as he saw it. He bounced once and the ropes holding the thing together groaned under his weight. He echoed its groan with one of his own.
“So not the kind of bed I was talking about.”
Iron Dust ignored him and walked toward the sole window, a small thing, with only thin paper to keep out the outside. He pulled a bit of paper from his sleeve and smoothed it to the frame. Tony sat up and tried to read the writing on the paper.
“What is that? It looks like Japanese, but it’s not. I can read Japanese, and that’s not Japanese.”
Iron Dust went back to the door, opened it, peered out, then closed it. He added another piece of paper to the door. “It is High Realm. The written language of Yu-Shan.”
“What’s Yu-Shan?”
“The city of Heaven. Where the gods live.” He sat on the bed near enough to Tony that their thighs touched with a sigh and began untying the belt around his waist. He was listing slightly to one side, and his eyes had a dull edge to them. Tony was almost tempted to reach out and push him to see if he would tip over. Likely he’d get his finger broken.
“Right, more gods. You can read it?”
“I can. And write it, and speak it.”
“What language are we speaking right now?”
Iron Dust’s lips twitched and his eyes focused on Tony. “Low Realm.”
Tony nodded. “Okay, makes sense. Heaven is High Realm and Earth is Low Realm.”
Iron Dust frowned as he stood and mouthed the word ‘Earth?’ Tony’s eyes went wide. Some of the words he had been using had to have been in English. Untranslatable words. Surely Earth was one that wasn’t.
“We are on Earth, aren’t we?”
For a moment, Iron Dust stared at him, studying him. “We stand on earth, outside, the dirt under our feet, but we are on the back of Gaia, in Creation.”
“Gaia! Earth, yes! We call Gaia Earth where I’m from. Sometimes it’s Midgard, but that’s a long story.” Tony rewarded himself for figuring that bit out by flopping back on the bed. It creaked. It wasn’t a bed; it was a bunk, a cot. Definitely not a bed like the king sized down feather thing he had back home. He closed his eyes against the flickering of the candle light and let his body relax. They were inside a building, and hopefully safe for the next few hours.
He heard the sound of fabric moving against fabric and cracked one eye open to see Iron Dust removing his armor and top layer of clothes. He hissed as he moved an arm too far and blood started to bloom on his shirt just under his ribs.
“You were injured?”
“It’s nothing.”
Tony sat up and scooted to the edge of the bunk. “Take your top off, let me see.” Iron Dust was already in the process of removing his top and he stopped long enough to give Tony a sardonic look. Tony waved him back into motion.
“Chop, chop. If you die from blood loss, White Song will string me up.”
Iron Dust dropped the top to the ground. “This isn’t going to kill me.”
“Sure it’s not. It’s only a cut deep enough I think I can see your innards.” He pressed a hand to the red and inflamed flesh above the open cut. “It’s barely bleeding,” he murmured as he studied the cut.
“I stopped the bleeding.”
“You can do that? I want to do that. Do you know how much less Cap and Bruce would be hovering over me if I just didn’t bleed like a stuck pig every time I get a paper cut? I think we need to stitch this up.”
“No.” He put his hand over the gaping wound and backed away from Tony. “I’ll wrap it and it’ll be fine after some rest.”
Tony felt his lips thin. “So you got super solider healing, too. Is there nothing you can’t do?”
Iron Dust chuckled and bent to dig in his bag. He emerged with a handful of white bandages and a jar of foul smelling ointment. He sat beside Tony on the bunk again. “Sing. I cannot carry a tune in a bucket.”
That startled a laugh out of Tony. He reached for the ointment and bandages as Iron Dust set about cleaning the wound. “I didn’t even see you get hit. White Song must have.”
“There is very little she misses.”
“She’s protective of you.”
Iron Dust hummed and reached for the ointment. Tony evaded his reach and popped the lid off himself. He spread the thick cream around the wound as Iron Dust held his body stiffly.
“She fancies herself my keeper.”
“Do you need one? I got one myself. Well, more like four, but yeah, do you need one?”
“I’ve lived many years before her and didn’t need one then.”
Tony set the jar aside and began wrapping the wound in the strips of cloth provided. It was strange, being the one doing the patching up instead of having someone else doing it for him. He tied off the end and Iron Dust lowered his arms and cupped his hand against the wound. He nodded and gazed fondly at the pillow.
“I think I do need to sleep. The sutras will warn us of any danger.” He nearly collapsed face first into the pillow and was asleep before his body settled. Tony chuckled before standing and lifted Iron Dust’s feet onto the bed. Iron Dust groaned, holding his wound, but didn’t wake at the movement.
It felt almost like looking into a mirror, watching Iron Dust. He pushed himself to the edge of his endurance until he crashed in exhaustion. Tony reached out and wiped the blood from his nose that Iron Dust hadn’t cleaned off. He wiped his fingers on his trousers and remembered his clothes were still wet from their trip on Splash Mountain. Without the mountain. Splash. Not a good name for a ride, scratch it.
Iron Dust’s bag produced more clothes, which Tony felt no quam about pilfering and laid out the wet ones on the floor. He had only a moments guilt in thinking that the bed was wet because of him, but Iron Dust was far too out of it to notice, so he sat on the floor next to his armor.
It was always odd to him to wear the helmet without the rest of the armor, but for the moment, he just needed JARVIS.
“JARVIS?”
“Sir,” he replied instantly.
“Do you have anything from our last fight saved in the armor?” Maybe if he reviewed how those zombies kept them in such a mess and overpowered he could find a way to defeat them. It was nearly humiliating how easily they had been put into such discordance by zombies, of all things.
“The video footage and the readings of the, for lack of a better word, zombies is still on the armor’s databanks.”
“Good, replay the video and let’s see if we can’t find out just what happened and how to get home."
~*~*~
“Sir?”
“Hum?”
The video feed suddenly turned into the view of the room, and Tony found himself face to face with Iron Dust. The man was kneeling before him and had his hand up as if he were about to knock on the helmet again.
“No!” He snatched the faceplate up and glared. “No more knocking on my helmet. It’s just not cool.”
Iron Dust sat back on his heels. “You weren’t moving. I thought perhaps you had fallen asleep.”
Tony removed the helmet and glanced at the tray sitting on a table. His stomach growled at the scents wafting off it and he struggled to his feet. “Is that food?”
Iron Dust nodded and stood. He removed the lid, exposing a large bowl of stew and two small loafs of bread. Tony frowned in distaste. “That’s it?”
Iron Dust lowered himself to the table and began tearing into the bread. “It’s early yet. We can get a full meal later.”
Tony glanced at the window where the paper was glowing happily with the force of the sun to back it up. “What time is it?”
“Just after noon. We’ll stay here until tomorrow, then find our way into the city.” He dipped his bits of bread in the stew and chewed thoughtfully. “I have a few favors I can call in to hide us from the Hunt when they arrive, but we’ll have to be careful. As large as Great Forks is, we can’t rely on the laws to protect us.”
“Laws? Wait, what is the Hunt?”
He swallowed before answering. “It’s called the Wyld Hunt. Dynasts that have been specially trained to hunt demons. They find a demon, and hunt him or her.” He shrugged. “I happen to be one of their demons. I hope they haven’t discovered White Song yet. If they kill me, I don’t think she’ll last long against them. She’s awfully young.”
Tony had noticed, although she was drop dead gorgeous, she did look very young. “How young?”
“She’s been with me for three years. Before that, she had been driven out of her home and on her own for two years. I believe she said she had nineteen years under her belt.”
“Couldn’t you just say she was twenty-four?” Tony wiped his moustache on his sleeve. Every day he spent here, he became more and more uncouth. Pepper would kill him for acting this way. “How old are you, because, really, you look twelve.”
Iron Dust smiled. “I Exalted when I was fifteen.”
Tony let his eyes roam his face once more. Twelve was a gross exaggeration, so, if pressed, Tony would guess his age to be- “Nineteen? No, you said you were Exalted longer than her, so twenty-one, at least.”
“Oh, at the very least.”
“I’m wrong? Tell me.”
“This past Calibration, I have seen four hundred and twenty-three years.”
His jaw was on the floor. He could feel it resting there, gathering dust. He closed his mouth with an audible click and ripped a bit of bread from the bun. It was spicy, but not too spicy, and melted on his tongue. See, that was normal stuff.
He turned his eyes back to Iron Dust. “You’re really some four hundred years old?” Iron Dust dipped his head in a nod. “So you don’t age either.”
“Very slowly.”
“And you have magic.”
“Of a sort.”
“And heal super fast.”
“Indeed.”
“But you don’t call yourself a god. No, wait. You’re a demon.”
Iron Dust’s lips tightened. “That’s what we are called.”
“And White Song is the same as you. I’ve never seen her use magic. Well, I did. She put my armor in Elsewhere. What’s Elsewhere? Where’s Elsewhere?”
“It’s a strange place that only Lunars can access. It’s a place between one second and the next. It’s a place between awake and asleep.” He shrugged. “It’s here, but it’s not.”
“Okay, I don’t understand, but there’s a lot going on here I don’t understand. Why doesn’t Luna want me to Exalt?”
Iron Dust took his time answering, chewing thoughtfully on a stew soaked bread. “You don’t know what Exalts are?” Tony shook his head. Another question to have answered. “You don’t know who Luna and the Maidens are.” Another negative. “So, I’ll assume that there are no Exalted Ones in your time. It could prove very dangerous to the treads of fate and Creation if you Exalted and returned.”
“Threads of fate and Creation? Sounds deep.”
“Deep?” Iron Dust shook his head. “Creation is delicate, held together only by the tightness of the weave of the Loom. If, as I suspect, there are no Exalts in your time, and you brought the power of an Exalt into that world, how easy do you think the treads would be to break?”
Tony leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “If this is the same world and we are merely a timeline apart, why can your Creation withstand the presence of Exalted, but mine can’t? Also, you insinuated that Yinsen may have been like you.”
Iron Dust opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. “Maybe it could, maybe he was. There is no way to know for sure, but why tempt it? Sometimes we are too much for Creation as it is, and we have to retreat to Yu-Shan.”
They ate in silence for a moment before Tony thought of something. “She said that your eyes were yellow because you were Chosen of Journeys. What does green mean?”
“Green eyes?”
Tony played with some crumbs that had scattered across the wooden table. “Well, his eyes aren’t green now that I think about it, but he uses magic, it it’s green.” When Iron Dust didn’t answer right away, Tony glanced up to see that he had all but frozen in his seat, eyes dark as they stared off over Tony’s shoulder. “What?”
“Who is this man?”
“Uh, he’s a villain we fight. He’s the reason I’m here. Well, he didn’t bring me here, but I think he knew that luring me into that temple would set off those zombies and whatever it was that sent me here. In any event, I blame him. He calls himself The Hour at Hand. I mean, what sort of name is that?”
“He knew about the temple? He led you to it?”
“Yeah.”
“And his essence is green, but not his eyes?”
“Yup.”
“Does his forehead,” here Iron Dust tapped a finger to the center of his brow, “glow green with a sigil in green?"
Tony blinked and brought the image of the man to the forefront of his mind. When The Hour at Hand used his magic enough to glow, it was always hard to see his person through the green flames. “Yes, he does.”
“And what is it?”
“A green star.”
“A green sun?” Iron Dust’s voice was choked, and Tony directed all of his attention to him.
“Yeah, you can call it that. What does it mean?”
“It seems there are Exalted Ones in your time after all.”
Tony threw himself forward so that he collided with the table, the arc reactor clanking dully against the wood. “So he’s like you, a demon?”
A slow, wicked smile curved Iron Dust’s lips. “Ah, now, if I’m correct, he’s the real demon. Let me tell you a story of what Exalted really are. While we are called demons, it’s all propaganda created by my people to protect the path we had set out upon.
“Before this age, there was a certain order to things. The Lawgivers were the kings of the world, doing the will of the gods on Creation. At their side were the Stewards and the Viziers. The Dragon-Blooded were their fists on Creation.
“It came to the understanding of the Viziers that the Lawgivers were corrupt and on the path to destroying all of Creation with their arrogance and hedonistic ways. They were tearing apart the world. So the Usurpation was plotted and in one fell swoop, with the help of the numerous Dragon-Blooded, the Lawgivers and Stewards were removed from power.
“Many generations have passed since that time, and on the thrones of Creation the Dragon-Blooded sit. The Viziers have seen to it that no Lawgiver or Steward shall gain power ever again.
“Not too long ago Lawgivers have begun being reborn, and they seek out their holy rights. The Dragon-Blooded are keen on keeping their power, and so set out the Hunts to find the Lawgivers and Stewards that threaten them. To keep humans in line, it is told that anything that is not Dragon-Blooded is a demon and must be destroyed.”
Tony felt a chill course through his body. He shivered and reached for the mug that he had thus far ignored on the table. He drank deeply, sorely wishing that it had a higher alcohol content. “And then? The real demon?”
“To protect Creation, the essence of the Lawgivers were sealed away in a cage made of jade. Before they could return, that cage had to be broken, but it takes great power to break something made by one hundred men and women of one mind. When it was broken, some of the Shards were stolen and held captive by the enemies of Creation. Those that would see Creation destroyed either by death, or being unmake into Chaos.
“One sect of these enemies is called the Demon Kings, the Yozis. Those that are Chosen by them are the Green Sun Princes. They hate all of Creation for what the gods did to them, an untold time ago. They set their Chosen out on Creation to destroy.”
Tony wanted to go home. At least at home all he had to worry about was Loki trying to take over, none of this unmaking the world bullshit. He wiped a hand down his face. “So, um, there are different types of Exalted.”
“Yes.”
“And you are…?”
He stood and walked to the bed and sat. “I shouldn’t tell you. It goes against everything I was ever taught to be telling you any of this.” He frowned down at the floor between his feet. “But you need to know, don’t you? You’re like a child in this world. There’s so much you don’t know, and that could get you killed.
“There are seven known types of Exalted. There are three Celestial Exalted, the Solars, those Chosen by the Unconquered Sun. The Lunars, those Chosen by Luna. And my kind, the Sidereals, those Chosen by one of the Maidens.”
Tony turned in his chair to watch Iron Dust. “What are the other four?”
“The Abyssals, the Death Knights that seek to turn Creation into another Underworld. The Infernal, that plot to punish all of Creation for the god’s actions. And the Alchemical. Which, when I first saw you, I thought you were.”
“Why’s that?”
“They are made of machines more than living bodies. They are the Chosen of the mechanical god.”
Tony grinned. “Now that’s something I’d like to see. A god of machines!”
Iron Dust shot him a glare that could peel paint. “They seek to own Creation and unmake us all.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Autochthon made us what we are, and now it has returned to claim its prize: Creation. If it succeeds,” he sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know what will happen. This war will either destroy us or cripple us.”
“War?”
He gave a humorless chuckle. “We are at war, not unlike the war of the First Age. We fight the Dead, Primordials, and the Wyld. We fight among ourselves, and we fight ourselves.” He laid down, feet curling up. “Sometimes I just want to sleep and not wake up until all of this is over.” His voice tapered off as he succumbed to exhaustion.
Tony could see him sitting in that coffin in the future, alive, but frozen. He stood and walked to the other side of the bed. He laid with his back toward him, letting all he had told him fill his brain and take him down a yellow brick road to sleep.
He woke some time later, blinking at the wall opposite him. Only the sounds of their breathing filled the room, but beyond, under the floorboards, he could hear life carrying on for the inn. Someone walked up the stairs and down the hall. Someone was singing along with a flute even farther away. He turned to say something to Iron Dust, and found White Song squeezed in between them.
He gaped at her a moment. He hadn’t even noticed when she crawled into the bed with them, much less forcing her way between them. The bed was just large enough for two grown men, albeit both small in stature. She had fit herself between them, her back pressed up against Tony’s, and her limbs were wrapped around Iron Dust like he was her favorite teddy bear. He chuckled, but swallowed it quickly when she turned a blue glare his direction.
“When did you get back?”
“A few hours ago.”
There was no light coming in from the window, and the only light in the room was that from a small candle guttering in its holder on the table and Tony’s reactor.
White Song had returned her head to the pillow, her nose pressed to the back of Iron Dust’s neck, her face hidden by his hair. Tony turned about to face them, something sharp twisting in his chest.
He missed his teammates. He missed the easy banter and how they had all grown to accept him despite his many faults. He missed Thor’s booming laugh, Steve’s easy blushes, and Clint’s manic laugher. Hell, he even missed Natasha’s cold exterior. He sighed and pressed his face into the pillow.
“How sure are you that I can get home?” he whispered.
Iron Dust was the one that answered. “We’ll get you home. We have Luna’s guiding light. We’re in Great Forks, and I’ve been told, there’s nothing impossible in this city.”
“Tell me about it? The city.”
White Song groaned and pulled the pillow up over her head. “Tomorrow you’ll see it. Tonight, sleep!”
“I’m not tired,” Tony protested. He’d had more sleep these last three days than he’d had all month.
He missed missing meals and designated sleeping patterns and his lab. Oh, his machines must be so lonely without him. Hell, he’d admit it; he was lonely without his machines. And his team. But mostly his machines. He sighed and sat up. The helmet was still sitting on the table where he had left it, and his hands itched to pull the armor on and force the magic of this world to act like science and find a way to get himself home.
He really wasn’t good at letting people help him.
White Song’s arm flopped up over his chest and her long fingers gripped his far shoulder. She pulled him back down to the bed and this time he faced her. Then he frowned.
“Is that my shirt?”
Indeed it was, the black band tee was all she was wearing.
“What’s a shirt?”
Oh, right, different words. He reached out and picked at the collar. “This top. It’s mine.”
She made a soft noise and shifted, still more than half asleep. “It gets cold here.” She tried to pull her legs up to her chest, but the bed was too small for her to curl up, so she snuggled closer to Iron Dust.
“Still, it’s totally not fair that you’re wearing my shirt to bed. I didn’t even get to have sex with you, and you’re already wearing my clothes. That’s just not right on so many levels.” At least he could look. And look he did. The shirt barely made her decent, although as he thought about it, it did cover more of her body than her own clothes had.
He huffed a sigh and let his body relax. She had been right; it was getting cold now that the daylight had left them behind. He snuggled closer to her warmth and let the quite of their breaths settle over him and lead him off to sleep.
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Discordance
Warnings:
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After falling into a trap, the first order of business it to find out where you are. But, if where you are makes no sense, then what are you supposed to do? Traveling to the future is easy, just fall asleep, right? Waking up to a whole different world is harder. Luckily, Tony Stark can adapt to any environment.
“Who are the Maidens?”
“What?” Iron Dust glanced at him over his shoulder. The ferry bounced on the waves of the unruly river, throwing up a splattering of water that dampened his hair.
“White Song said yesterday that I knew of the Maidens, but not Luna. Who are the Maidens? I assume Venus is one of them.”
Iron Dust nodded and settled on the floor of the ferry where Tony had planted himself as soon as they had gotten underway. The man that steered the ferry was a massive man, easily twice Tony’s size, with arms that could probably crush Tony without noticing. He had his back toward them, a frown directed down river.
White Song hadn’t reappeared with the morning, and Iron Dust had no quam about leaving without her. With her super-secret ninja skills, Tony didn’t have a doubt that she would easily catch up with them.
As Iron Dust settled beside Tony, a white and grey seagull landed on the ferry, feathers ruffled up against the chill on the river. Tony stared at the creature and only broke his stare when the bird seemed to return his glare. Weird world, with all its weird creatures, first a fork that cleaned itself like a cat, and now a seagull could give Natasha’s glare a run for its money.
“There are five Maidens, and they are the stars of fate. They are the sisters of Luna, the moon, and the Unconquered Sun, their brother and king of the gods.”
“Why is White Song so angry that Luna came to you?” She had been nearly spitting with rage when she mocked him for saying that Luna had come to the two of them. More jealously.
Iron Dust looked over at the seagull that now had its back toward them. “She is Chosen by Luna. I am not. It is most unusual for Luna to come to any that are not her Chosen.”
“So, why did she come to you?”
Iron Dust shrugged. “Only she knows.”
They made great time on the river, and it was just after noon when they spotted a town on the river. Iron Dust narrowed his eyes as they approached, then stood and went to hover behind the ferryman. He cursed softly. Tony stood.
“What’s the matter?”
“Trouble, we can’t go there.”
“I thought we were staying on the river until we reached Great Forks?”
“That was the plan,” Iron Dust said, distractedly looking over the ferry’s side down into the water. “Can you swim?”
Tony followed him and gazed down at the churning water. “Yes, but I’d really rather not.”
“There’s no choice. We have to flee before we get to the town.” He turned back to the ferryman. “I’ll pay for your silence and more aside if you wait for us on the other side of the town.” The man eyed him skeptically.
“What trouble do you bring my way?”
Something then changed about Iron Dust. The stressed look that had been on his face since Tony had met him was suddenly gone and his eyes were no long that cold yellow, but warm liquid gold. He smiled charmingly at the man, one hand coming up in a demure way to his own neck. He lowered his lashes and looked up at the man through the silver fringe. “You will forget us on your craft and you will seek us out on the other side of the town.”
Tony watched, aghast, as the man nodded dumbly. Iron Dust turned away and he returned to his normal focused self. “Jump, Iron Man, we have no time to waste.”
“Did you just Jedi Mind Trick him?”
“I don’t know what that means. Get a move on it.” He put a hand on Tony shoulder and turned him toward the rush of water under their feet.
“Oh god,” Tony moaned before he leaped.
Cold water rushed over his head, stealing his breath. He sank, billions of bubbles rising up around him, confusing him. For an endless moment, fear took hold and he remembered how much he had learned to hate being submerged. He kicked his legs out and struggled for the surface, his heart loud in his ears and his breath straining in his lungs.
A strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled resolutely upward. Water rushed over his head as they emerged, and Tony gasped gratefully for fresh air. This air was his favorite air. It was the best air ever to exit. The arm around his waist moved away as he found his balance on the surface, treading water. He turned to face his rescuer, and was surprised to find that it was White Song.
She grinned at him, white teeth gleaming. “Thought you could swim? Maybe if you died, we’d find our quest finished.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” He bit his lip. “Uh, thanks for saving me. That current is deadly.”
She nodded. “Iron Dust doesn’t think, sometimes. He forgets you’re only human.”
Speaking of the man, Tony looked for him and found him not too far away, motioning them to follow. As Tony began swimming toward him, White Song ducked into the water and didn’t emerge again until she was next to Iron Dust.
“What do you see,” she asked him.
Iron Dust spit out a mouthful of water and cast his eyes toward the town. “There’s a host of Dynasts waiting us there.”
White Song cursed and ducked underwater again. Tony waited, but she never reemerged. He turned to Iron Dust. “What does that mean?”
Iron Dust cast him a scandalized look before he shook his head. “They will kill us, and probably you as well, as soon as they can.” He started swimming toward the far shore. “They are why we are called demons.”
Iron Dust dragged himself out of the water, his silk robes and trousers clinging to him, making him look even smaller than ever. He reminded Tony of a wet cat. Tony himself was alright in his jeans and band tee, his arc reactor now glowing happily through the wet fabric. Iron Dust turned to offer Tony a hand up the bank, then stood staring at the blue glow on Tony’s chest.
Tony scratched at his chest. The shirt had been thick enough to hide the glow from sight when dry, but now it was clearly visible.
There was a call as the ferryman greeted those on the dock, and that tore Iron Dust’s attention from Tony. Tony breathed a sigh of relief and wiped water from his face. “So, the Dynasts don’t like you. What did you do?”
“I was born.” He turned away and walked deeper into the forest. Tony watched the ferryman throw a rope to the man on the dock, and then turned away. He had decided to throw his lot in with these two, and it was probably too late to change his mind now. Although, a bed was a tempting thought.
“So they’re racists. That’s nice. Some things never change. What about me? They don’t know me; why would they want to kill me?”
Iron Dust smiled. “Do you want a list?”
He thought about that for a moment. “You know, I’ve only been here for a few days and already have a list of reasons why people want me dead. I think it’s a new record.”
Iron Dust chuckled. “Your biggest sin is traveling with us.”
“Demons.”
“Yes.”
“Depending on how you defined demon.”
“Indeed.”
“Right. So, who are these dynasts?”
They were now out of sight of the town and Iron Dust paused next to a tree to gather his hair over one shoulder and began wringing out the excess water. “They are blessed by the Dragons and rule over the Blessed Isle. This far out East, they’re Hunting.”
“Hunting us?”
“Those like us. Me and White Song. You’re a human,” his eyes flicked down to Tony’s chest, then back to his face, “But maybe they’ll hunt you as well. Guilt by association.”
“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel better about myself.”
Iron Dust sighed and bent in half to untie his sandal from his foot. “Luna has left her mark on you. For that, they will hunt you.”
Tony’s eyes went wide. “She left a mark on me? Where?”
Iron Dust dropped his shoe and knocked a knuckle against the arc reactor. “Does the moonlight not glow from your chest?” Tony covered the glow with his hand.
“It’s not moonlight. I built this. Nobody put this on me, except for me.”
“I don’t believe that. You said you lived when by all rights you should have died. You did that on your own?”
Tony’s lips tightened. “A doctor saved me.”
Iron Dust smiled, his eyes once more taking on that eerie glow. “Saved you and set you on your path. Changed your life.”
Tony hissed in a breath. “How do you know?”
“His touched still glows on you.” Iron Dust tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowed like a cat’s. “Did he have yellow eyes?”
“No,” Tony said, instantly. Yensin had not had yellow eyes. They had been brown, a warm brown that was near whisky in color. He refused to acknowledge that he had seen Yensin’s eyes in the sunlight once, and they had glowed yellow. A trick of the light, of exhaustion and hunger. “No.”
Iron Dust nodded, his smile still in place, as if he knew Tony lied. Quickly, Tony rushed to cover his doubts. “What does it mean, yellow eyes?”
“It’s the color of his maiden,” White Song said, appearing from between two trees, soaked. Her hair clung to her ribs and cheeks, her blue eyes bright. “Those Chosen by the maidens are given their colors as their eye colors.” She held up a bag and tossed it toward Tony. He caught it against his chest. “Change into that, you stand out too much currently.”
She stared at his chest a moment before looking toward Iron Dust. He shook his head, and she shrugged. They stood in silence before Tony gave a start. “Oh, you want me to change right here, right now.” White Song arched a brow and Iron Dust focused on removing the knot of his second sandal.
She wasn’t looking away, so he mentally shrugged. “Right.” He quickly stripped the wet clothes from his body and pulled on the brown trousers and red tunic. They were wool and warm and so much more comfortable than his wet jeans. They heavy wool covered his arc reactor’s glow from sight. White Song had included a belt to clench the tunic, and boots that weren’t unlike Steve’s uniform boots.
He felt like a Greek pirate. He just needed a gold hoop in his ear and his disguise would be complete. Stuffing his clothes in the bag, he grinned at White Song. “Like what you saw?”
She smirked, “I’ve seen better.”
He returned her smirk. “I’m sure.”
Iron Dust rolled his eyes and shoved away from the tree, his sandals now tied firmly to his belt. “Let us go. We have to meet the ferryman before sunset.”
“Does your Jedi Mind Trick wear off then? Oh, does the ferry turn into a pumpkin at midnight?” They pair eyed them as if they were worried about his sanity and he shrugged. They marched through the forest, and for once, White Song stayed with them. She guided them through the forest, ever eastward.
Once they had skirted the town, she led them toward the river once more and they waited for the ferry to arrive. The sun was still heavy in the sky, just kissing the trees of the forest. White Song disappeared into the water once more, and Iron Dust settled against a tree, resting his eyes.
Tony spent a moment watching the man before he let his own thoughts cloud his head.
Somehow, he had been drawn back in time. The people here believed in gods and goddesses and really did believe that they did their will. True, Iron Dust had knowledge about Tony’s life that not even Pepper knew. He had yet to see those things that were supposedly hunting him, and he had no clue where they were really headed. As far as he knew, they could be leading him into another trap, expertly executed by The Hour at Hand.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He just didn’t know who to trust. This pair of travelers that claimed to do the will of gods, or his own doubts. He had no compass in this world, and only these two to help him. But then he was clever, and if they proved untrustworthy, then he can just ditch them and find is own way home.
Maybe find a god of time on his own, he thought with a smile.
Iron Dust sat up and gazed up the river. Tony followed his gaze and noticed the ferry making its way toward them. Tony stood and Iron Dust hissed. Iron Dust did that a lot. Tony looked down at him.
“What?”
“You would have been wise to stay hidden from sight.” He stood and stepped toward the bank. Now that the ferry was closer, Iron Dust waved a hand and the ferryman threw out a rope. “Be prepared,” Iron Dust warned as he pulled the ferry closer.
There was only the ferryman on the wooden planking. Tony looked back to Iron Dust, but the man was busy loading their bags onto the ferry. Soon, they were both on the boat and once more moving downstream.
“What,” he started to ask, but a sudden gush of wind swirled around him, stealing his breath. The raft rocked as the river picked up, and the ferryman cried out, huddling down, arms thrown up over his head.
A man landed from above, his heavy boots clanging against the wood. He held a sword in his hand, and a smirk on his lips under his helm. His armor was a vibrant red and his tunic under it was white. His hair, where it fell out from under his helmet was also white, a hint of blue to the strands. He was a large man under his armor, and Tony fell back, suddenly afraid.
He’d seen this man before as well. He fought with Thor, using his lightning against him. Even now, the air crackled with the charge.
“I’ve heard rumors that there was a man that traveled with a demon woman, and that he had sold his soul to the demons in turn.”
“Is that what you know?”
The man chuckled. “Your demon eyes are proof enough.” He struck out with his sword, but Iron Dust was suddenly not in its path. The armored man cursed and spun on his foot. He caught sight of Tony, frowned, and then stumbled forward as Iron Dust reappeared and shoved him off balance.
He turned to once more face Iron Dust and Tony jumped to his feet, weaponless, but needing to help. He fisted his hands together and raised them to attack, but White Song suddenly grabbed him. “Where did you come from?”
“Shush, and do nothing. Iron Dust will take care of him. You stay out of it. Luna has told us that you must not fight. You must not Exalt, he said.”
He looked at her over his shoulder where she was pressed bodily to him. “Fighting means I’ll Exalt? I’ve fought for years now.”
She shook her head. “You must not here.”
Their attacker cried out, pulling their attention back to the fight. He had dropped his sword and faced Iron Dust in a fighter’s stance. Iron Dust also stood in a fighting stance, his face carefully blank, empty hands raised in defense.
The man attacked with a punch, which Iron Dust caught in his palm, twisting him about and nearly dumping him into the river. He caught himself and turned about, one foot kicking out to catch Iron Dust’s knee. Iron Dust danced out of harm’s way.
“Can’t you just Jedi Mind Trick him, too?”
“Doesn’t work on nonhumans,” Iron Dust returned without looking at him. All of his attention was on the man before him as his face crumpled with rage and he attacked. His attack was nearly too fast for Tony to follow, punches and kicks that looked more like dancing with how Iron Dust dodged and skipped around them.
Iron Dust caught another punch, spun and lifted the man over his shoulder. He deposited him into the river and turned to face the ferryman, his hair falling around his face. “Steer us clear.” The man nodded frantically and groped for his stick. Iron Dust went to the head of the raft and folded his arms before him.
White Song finally released Tony and sat on the floor. “Sit, Iron Man, you’ll not want to be standing for this.”
“What?”
“Sit.” She reached up and pulled him down. He collapsed beside her and looked at the rioting water where the man had fallen in. He hadn’t emerged yet, and Tony blamed his armor. Thankfully, his armor was waterproof and the jets worked underwater.
Then he was knocked backwards as the ferry took off at an unreasonable speed. He pulled himself upright and gaped at the water that was passing them by. The raft had a yellow glow around it, and, when he turned his eyes toward Iron Dust, the man was glowing with that yellow halo as well.
The landscape passed them by in a blur, the wind ripping at their hair. The ride was smoother than their first trip on the ferry, the waves of the river no longer bumping them along. A quick glance over the side confirmed that they were no longer riding on the water, but over it.
“What’s happening?”
White Song reached out and pulled him close. “Those that are the Chosen of Journeys can move as fast as a breath, unhindered by fate.” She nodded toward Iron Dust. “He is Chosen by Mercury, Maiden of Journeys.”
“The yellow eyes.”
“Yes.” She stared at him. “We are Chosen, Iron Man, by the celestial gods. The Terrestrials would see us removed from this world, and if they succeed, then Creation will be lost to Chaos.”
He held her gaze. “I find this hard to believe. There are no gods in my world.” Which was true. Thor and Loki were aliens, not gods. Right? Right.
White Song’s face went hard. “Let’s just hope they’re hidden and not gone.” She turned away and watched Iron Dust carefully. “We will travel to Great Forks under this spell, but as soon as we arrive, Iron Dust must rest. He will, of course, refuse, but he must rest.”
Tony mentally snorted. That sounded familiar, too.
“While the two of you rest, I’ll go into Great Forks and see if we can’t find what we’re looking for. Let’s also hope that Hunt doesn’t follow us.”
“Will they?”
“They may. Iron Dust didn’t kill him, so he may come after us.”
Tony nodded and turned his eyes on Iron Dust. Watching the landscape speed by was giving him a headache.
For a while there was nothing but trees and the odd village or town on the river. White Song assured him that the people wouldn’t notice them, Iron Dust’s magic hiding them from sight. Well, she never quite called it magic, neither one of them did, but it fell firmly under the magic file in Tony’s head. Then, in the direction they were headed, the trees gave way to a great expanse of savanna. The tall grasses blurred at the speed at which they were traveling. In the distance, there was a smudge that quickly grew into the silhouette of a city that sprawled out not unlike the cities Tony was more familiar with.
The boat didn’t slow down so much as come to a sudden stop, plopping into the river. Water washed over the sides and soaked Tony once more. He made a face and stood from where he had tipped forward.
Night was nearly giving way to dawn, the moon heavy in the sky, and the eastern sky turning grey with the sun’s promise. White Song easily gained her feet and went to Iron Dust, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“Come, our friends will welcome us.”
Iron Dust nodded and turned to the ferryman. He stared the man down, and then offered him payment. What Tony assumed was payment. It looked to be chips of stone in bright colors. The ferryman murmured words in yet another foreign language to Tony, but he easily guessed it to be a prayer. If he were a lesser man, Tony might himself fall to prayer after that experience.
They unloaded and hiked the rest of the way to the nearest building. It was a squat cabin made of mud brick, but the one beyond that was a better sight. It was two stories at least, white washed, and well-kept. White Song led Iron Dust to the door and then let him go in alone. Tony came to stand beside her.
“He’ll get a room for us. Make him sleep.” She pressed a finger to the middle of his chest, her nail clanking against the reactor. “He hasn’t really slept since Luna gave him this mission, so I’m making it your duty to see to it that he rests.”
He made a face. “I don’t know if I’m the best choice to be a mother hen. Hell, I need three to keep me in line.” Look, that’s progress, right, admitting when you need help? Or, close enough in his book. He deserved a cookie.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m trusting you with him.”
Tony arched a brow. “Is that what’s happening?”
“I’m going to see how the wind blows farther in the city. I’ll be back by nightfall.” She turned on her heel and jogged off into the approaching day. Tony watched her go, scratching idly at the arc reactor.
What a development. They knew about as much about him as he did about them, and she, who quite clearly disliked him, was trusting him with Iron Dust. Well, whatever that meant.
The man was small and frail looking, but Tony had felt his hidden strength. And with his magic, Tony wasn’t sure that he could take on Iron Dust and win. Maybe they didn’t know that. Maybe with his armor he could.
His armor!
“Hey!” He started to race down the path after the woman. “Give me my armor back!”
She paused, and even from a distance, he could see her roll her eyes. She turned to face him, holding her arms out before her. As he stumbled to a stop before her, the air shimmered as if heated, and suddenly the bag that he had stuffed his armor in days ago appeared in her hands. She held it out to him.
“Um,” he said, his hands suddenly itchy and crawling. “Just set it down. I’ll pick it up.”
She frowned at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head, which was really unfair, because animated fork! She shook her head and dropped the bag.
“Careful! That’s highly expensive!”
“Get back to the inn and do your job,” she returned, continuing her trek up the path.
He watched her go a moment, then his eyes turned to the city.
Not unlike New York, there was a glow to the city from the many lights. It was nearly dawn, but shadows still clung between buildings and alleys. He could almost hear the steady thrum of people waking up and beginning their days. He had a sharp pain of homesickness nearly steal his breath.
So far he had merely been going along with what they had already decided, trusting them to return him home, but what if it didn’t work? What if they failed and he got into a fight and he Exalted as they feared he might?
Taking a deep, bracing breath, he turned back toward the inn and tried to ignore how the numbers were stacked against him getting home.
Iron Dust was standing in the doorway when he returned with his armor. He dropped the bag at his feet and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I wish this was the briefcase armor. This one is far too heavy to be lugging about.”
He looked up from the armor and noticed for the first time how tired Iron Dust looked and that his nose was beginning to bleed. “She wasn’t kidding, Dust Bunny, you really are ready to fall over.”
Iron Dust frowned at him. “Where is White Song?”
“She said she was going to see how the wind’s blowing. It’s just you and me today, pal.” He grinned. “A boys’ day in. Are we going to have a real bed? I want a real bed.”
He nodded. “Yes.” He picked up the bag with the armor in it with one hand, making Tony once more feel about as strong as a leaf on the breeze. He followed the eerily strong man back into the building and up a flight of stairs that made him realize that maybe he did have a bit of claustrophobia. It wasn’t a nice experience.
Their room had about as much floor space as a S.H.I.E.L.D broom closet, but it did have a bed, which Tony flopped down on as soon as he saw it. He bounced once and the ropes holding the thing together groaned under his weight. He echoed its groan with one of his own.
“So not the kind of bed I was talking about.”
Iron Dust ignored him and walked toward the sole window, a small thing, with only thin paper to keep out the outside. He pulled a bit of paper from his sleeve and smoothed it to the frame. Tony sat up and tried to read the writing on the paper.
“What is that? It looks like Japanese, but it’s not. I can read Japanese, and that’s not Japanese.”
Iron Dust went back to the door, opened it, peered out, then closed it. He added another piece of paper to the door. “It is High Realm. The written language of Yu-Shan.”
“What’s Yu-Shan?”
“The city of Heaven. Where the gods live.” He sat on the bed near enough to Tony that their thighs touched with a sigh and began untying the belt around his waist. He was listing slightly to one side, and his eyes had a dull edge to them. Tony was almost tempted to reach out and push him to see if he would tip over. Likely he’d get his finger broken.
“Right, more gods. You can read it?”
“I can. And write it, and speak it.”
“What language are we speaking right now?”
Iron Dust’s lips twitched and his eyes focused on Tony. “Low Realm.”
Tony nodded. “Okay, makes sense. Heaven is High Realm and Earth is Low Realm.”
Iron Dust frowned as he stood and mouthed the word ‘Earth?’ Tony’s eyes went wide. Some of the words he had been using had to have been in English. Untranslatable words. Surely Earth was one that wasn’t.
“We are on Earth, aren’t we?”
For a moment, Iron Dust stared at him, studying him. “We stand on earth, outside, the dirt under our feet, but we are on the back of Gaia, in Creation.”
“Gaia! Earth, yes! We call Gaia Earth where I’m from. Sometimes it’s Midgard, but that’s a long story.” Tony rewarded himself for figuring that bit out by flopping back on the bed. It creaked. It wasn’t a bed; it was a bunk, a cot. Definitely not a bed like the king sized down feather thing he had back home. He closed his eyes against the flickering of the candle light and let his body relax. They were inside a building, and hopefully safe for the next few hours.
He heard the sound of fabric moving against fabric and cracked one eye open to see Iron Dust removing his armor and top layer of clothes. He hissed as he moved an arm too far and blood started to bloom on his shirt just under his ribs.
“You were injured?”
“It’s nothing.”
Tony sat up and scooted to the edge of the bunk. “Take your top off, let me see.” Iron Dust was already in the process of removing his top and he stopped long enough to give Tony a sardonic look. Tony waved him back into motion.
“Chop, chop. If you die from blood loss, White Song will string me up.”
Iron Dust dropped the top to the ground. “This isn’t going to kill me.”
“Sure it’s not. It’s only a cut deep enough I think I can see your innards.” He pressed a hand to the red and inflamed flesh above the open cut. “It’s barely bleeding,” he murmured as he studied the cut.
“I stopped the bleeding.”
“You can do that? I want to do that. Do you know how much less Cap and Bruce would be hovering over me if I just didn’t bleed like a stuck pig every time I get a paper cut? I think we need to stitch this up.”
“No.” He put his hand over the gaping wound and backed away from Tony. “I’ll wrap it and it’ll be fine after some rest.”
Tony felt his lips thin. “So you got super solider healing, too. Is there nothing you can’t do?”
Iron Dust chuckled and bent to dig in his bag. He emerged with a handful of white bandages and a jar of foul smelling ointment. He sat beside Tony on the bunk again. “Sing. I cannot carry a tune in a bucket.”
That startled a laugh out of Tony. He reached for the ointment and bandages as Iron Dust set about cleaning the wound. “I didn’t even see you get hit. White Song must have.”
“There is very little she misses.”
“She’s protective of you.”
Iron Dust hummed and reached for the ointment. Tony evaded his reach and popped the lid off himself. He spread the thick cream around the wound as Iron Dust held his body stiffly.
“She fancies herself my keeper.”
“Do you need one? I got one myself. Well, more like four, but yeah, do you need one?”
“I’ve lived many years before her and didn’t need one then.”
Tony set the jar aside and began wrapping the wound in the strips of cloth provided. It was strange, being the one doing the patching up instead of having someone else doing it for him. He tied off the end and Iron Dust lowered his arms and cupped his hand against the wound. He nodded and gazed fondly at the pillow.
“I think I do need to sleep. The sutras will warn us of any danger.” He nearly collapsed face first into the pillow and was asleep before his body settled. Tony chuckled before standing and lifted Iron Dust’s feet onto the bed. Iron Dust groaned, holding his wound, but didn’t wake at the movement.
It felt almost like looking into a mirror, watching Iron Dust. He pushed himself to the edge of his endurance until he crashed in exhaustion. Tony reached out and wiped the blood from his nose that Iron Dust hadn’t cleaned off. He wiped his fingers on his trousers and remembered his clothes were still wet from their trip on Splash Mountain. Without the mountain. Splash. Not a good name for a ride, scratch it.
Iron Dust’s bag produced more clothes, which Tony felt no quam about pilfering and laid out the wet ones on the floor. He had only a moments guilt in thinking that the bed was wet because of him, but Iron Dust was far too out of it to notice, so he sat on the floor next to his armor.
It was always odd to him to wear the helmet without the rest of the armor, but for the moment, he just needed JARVIS.
“JARVIS?”
“Sir,” he replied instantly.
“Do you have anything from our last fight saved in the armor?” Maybe if he reviewed how those zombies kept them in such a mess and overpowered he could find a way to defeat them. It was nearly humiliating how easily they had been put into such discordance by zombies, of all things.
“The video footage and the readings of the, for lack of a better word, zombies is still on the armor’s databanks.”
“Good, replay the video and let’s see if we can’t find out just what happened and how to get home."
~*~*~
“Sir?”
“Hum?”
The video feed suddenly turned into the view of the room, and Tony found himself face to face with Iron Dust. The man was kneeling before him and had his hand up as if he were about to knock on the helmet again.
“No!” He snatched the faceplate up and glared. “No more knocking on my helmet. It’s just not cool.”
Iron Dust sat back on his heels. “You weren’t moving. I thought perhaps you had fallen asleep.”
Tony removed the helmet and glanced at the tray sitting on a table. His stomach growled at the scents wafting off it and he struggled to his feet. “Is that food?”
Iron Dust nodded and stood. He removed the lid, exposing a large bowl of stew and two small loafs of bread. Tony frowned in distaste. “That’s it?”
Iron Dust lowered himself to the table and began tearing into the bread. “It’s early yet. We can get a full meal later.”
Tony glanced at the window where the paper was glowing happily with the force of the sun to back it up. “What time is it?”
“Just after noon. We’ll stay here until tomorrow, then find our way into the city.” He dipped his bits of bread in the stew and chewed thoughtfully. “I have a few favors I can call in to hide us from the Hunt when they arrive, but we’ll have to be careful. As large as Great Forks is, we can’t rely on the laws to protect us.”
“Laws? Wait, what is the Hunt?”
He swallowed before answering. “It’s called the Wyld Hunt. Dynasts that have been specially trained to hunt demons. They find a demon, and hunt him or her.” He shrugged. “I happen to be one of their demons. I hope they haven’t discovered White Song yet. If they kill me, I don’t think she’ll last long against them. She’s awfully young.”
Tony had noticed, although she was drop dead gorgeous, she did look very young. “How young?”
“She’s been with me for three years. Before that, she had been driven out of her home and on her own for two years. I believe she said she had nineteen years under her belt.”
“Couldn’t you just say she was twenty-four?” Tony wiped his moustache on his sleeve. Every day he spent here, he became more and more uncouth. Pepper would kill him for acting this way. “How old are you, because, really, you look twelve.”
Iron Dust smiled. “I Exalted when I was fifteen.”
Tony let his eyes roam his face once more. Twelve was a gross exaggeration, so, if pressed, Tony would guess his age to be- “Nineteen? No, you said you were Exalted longer than her, so twenty-one, at least.”
“Oh, at the very least.”
“I’m wrong? Tell me.”
“This past Calibration, I have seen four hundred and twenty-three years.”
His jaw was on the floor. He could feel it resting there, gathering dust. He closed his mouth with an audible click and ripped a bit of bread from the bun. It was spicy, but not too spicy, and melted on his tongue. See, that was normal stuff.
He turned his eyes back to Iron Dust. “You’re really some four hundred years old?” Iron Dust dipped his head in a nod. “So you don’t age either.”
“Very slowly.”
“And you have magic.”
“Of a sort.”
“And heal super fast.”
“Indeed.”
“But you don’t call yourself a god. No, wait. You’re a demon.”
Iron Dust’s lips tightened. “That’s what we are called.”
“And White Song is the same as you. I’ve never seen her use magic. Well, I did. She put my armor in Elsewhere. What’s Elsewhere? Where’s Elsewhere?”
“It’s a strange place that only Lunars can access. It’s a place between one second and the next. It’s a place between awake and asleep.” He shrugged. “It’s here, but it’s not.”
“Okay, I don’t understand, but there’s a lot going on here I don’t understand. Why doesn’t Luna want me to Exalt?”
Iron Dust took his time answering, chewing thoughtfully on a stew soaked bread. “You don’t know what Exalts are?” Tony shook his head. Another question to have answered. “You don’t know who Luna and the Maidens are.” Another negative. “So, I’ll assume that there are no Exalted Ones in your time. It could prove very dangerous to the treads of fate and Creation if you Exalted and returned.”
“Threads of fate and Creation? Sounds deep.”
“Deep?” Iron Dust shook his head. “Creation is delicate, held together only by the tightness of the weave of the Loom. If, as I suspect, there are no Exalts in your time, and you brought the power of an Exalt into that world, how easy do you think the treads would be to break?”
Tony leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “If this is the same world and we are merely a timeline apart, why can your Creation withstand the presence of Exalted, but mine can’t? Also, you insinuated that Yinsen may have been like you.”
Iron Dust opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. “Maybe it could, maybe he was. There is no way to know for sure, but why tempt it? Sometimes we are too much for Creation as it is, and we have to retreat to Yu-Shan.”
They ate in silence for a moment before Tony thought of something. “She said that your eyes were yellow because you were Chosen of Journeys. What does green mean?”
“Green eyes?”
Tony played with some crumbs that had scattered across the wooden table. “Well, his eyes aren’t green now that I think about it, but he uses magic, it it’s green.” When Iron Dust didn’t answer right away, Tony glanced up to see that he had all but frozen in his seat, eyes dark as they stared off over Tony’s shoulder. “What?”
“Who is this man?”
“Uh, he’s a villain we fight. He’s the reason I’m here. Well, he didn’t bring me here, but I think he knew that luring me into that temple would set off those zombies and whatever it was that sent me here. In any event, I blame him. He calls himself The Hour at Hand. I mean, what sort of name is that?”
“He knew about the temple? He led you to it?”
“Yeah.”
“And his essence is green, but not his eyes?”
“Yup.”
“Does his forehead,” here Iron Dust tapped a finger to the center of his brow, “glow green with a sigil in green?"
Tony blinked and brought the image of the man to the forefront of his mind. When The Hour at Hand used his magic enough to glow, it was always hard to see his person through the green flames. “Yes, he does.”
“And what is it?”
“A green star.”
“A green sun?” Iron Dust’s voice was choked, and Tony directed all of his attention to him.
“Yeah, you can call it that. What does it mean?”
“It seems there are Exalted Ones in your time after all.”
Tony threw himself forward so that he collided with the table, the arc reactor clanking dully against the wood. “So he’s like you, a demon?”
A slow, wicked smile curved Iron Dust’s lips. “Ah, now, if I’m correct, he’s the real demon. Let me tell you a story of what Exalted really are. While we are called demons, it’s all propaganda created by my people to protect the path we had set out upon.
“Before this age, there was a certain order to things. The Lawgivers were the kings of the world, doing the will of the gods on Creation. At their side were the Stewards and the Viziers. The Dragon-Blooded were their fists on Creation.
“It came to the understanding of the Viziers that the Lawgivers were corrupt and on the path to destroying all of Creation with their arrogance and hedonistic ways. They were tearing apart the world. So the Usurpation was plotted and in one fell swoop, with the help of the numerous Dragon-Blooded, the Lawgivers and Stewards were removed from power.
“Many generations have passed since that time, and on the thrones of Creation the Dragon-Blooded sit. The Viziers have seen to it that no Lawgiver or Steward shall gain power ever again.
“Not too long ago Lawgivers have begun being reborn, and they seek out their holy rights. The Dragon-Blooded are keen on keeping their power, and so set out the Hunts to find the Lawgivers and Stewards that threaten them. To keep humans in line, it is told that anything that is not Dragon-Blooded is a demon and must be destroyed.”
Tony felt a chill course through his body. He shivered and reached for the mug that he had thus far ignored on the table. He drank deeply, sorely wishing that it had a higher alcohol content. “And then? The real demon?”
“To protect Creation, the essence of the Lawgivers were sealed away in a cage made of jade. Before they could return, that cage had to be broken, but it takes great power to break something made by one hundred men and women of one mind. When it was broken, some of the Shards were stolen and held captive by the enemies of Creation. Those that would see Creation destroyed either by death, or being unmake into Chaos.
“One sect of these enemies is called the Demon Kings, the Yozis. Those that are Chosen by them are the Green Sun Princes. They hate all of Creation for what the gods did to them, an untold time ago. They set their Chosen out on Creation to destroy.”
Tony wanted to go home. At least at home all he had to worry about was Loki trying to take over, none of this unmaking the world bullshit. He wiped a hand down his face. “So, um, there are different types of Exalted.”
“Yes.”
“And you are…?”
He stood and walked to the bed and sat. “I shouldn’t tell you. It goes against everything I was ever taught to be telling you any of this.” He frowned down at the floor between his feet. “But you need to know, don’t you? You’re like a child in this world. There’s so much you don’t know, and that could get you killed.
“There are seven known types of Exalted. There are three Celestial Exalted, the Solars, those Chosen by the Unconquered Sun. The Lunars, those Chosen by Luna. And my kind, the Sidereals, those Chosen by one of the Maidens.”
Tony turned in his chair to watch Iron Dust. “What are the other four?”
“The Abyssals, the Death Knights that seek to turn Creation into another Underworld. The Infernal, that plot to punish all of Creation for the god’s actions. And the Alchemical. Which, when I first saw you, I thought you were.”
“Why’s that?”
“They are made of machines more than living bodies. They are the Chosen of the mechanical god.”
Tony grinned. “Now that’s something I’d like to see. A god of machines!”
Iron Dust shot him a glare that could peel paint. “They seek to own Creation and unmake us all.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Autochthon made us what we are, and now it has returned to claim its prize: Creation. If it succeeds,” he sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know what will happen. This war will either destroy us or cripple us.”
“War?”
He gave a humorless chuckle. “We are at war, not unlike the war of the First Age. We fight the Dead, Primordials, and the Wyld. We fight among ourselves, and we fight ourselves.” He laid down, feet curling up. “Sometimes I just want to sleep and not wake up until all of this is over.” His voice tapered off as he succumbed to exhaustion.
Tony could see him sitting in that coffin in the future, alive, but frozen. He stood and walked to the other side of the bed. He laid with his back toward him, letting all he had told him fill his brain and take him down a yellow brick road to sleep.
He woke some time later, blinking at the wall opposite him. Only the sounds of their breathing filled the room, but beyond, under the floorboards, he could hear life carrying on for the inn. Someone walked up the stairs and down the hall. Someone was singing along with a flute even farther away. He turned to say something to Iron Dust, and found White Song squeezed in between them.
He gaped at her a moment. He hadn’t even noticed when she crawled into the bed with them, much less forcing her way between them. The bed was just large enough for two grown men, albeit both small in stature. She had fit herself between them, her back pressed up against Tony’s, and her limbs were wrapped around Iron Dust like he was her favorite teddy bear. He chuckled, but swallowed it quickly when she turned a blue glare his direction.
“When did you get back?”
“A few hours ago.”
There was no light coming in from the window, and the only light in the room was that from a small candle guttering in its holder on the table and Tony’s reactor.
White Song had returned her head to the pillow, her nose pressed to the back of Iron Dust’s neck, her face hidden by his hair. Tony turned about to face them, something sharp twisting in his chest.
He missed his teammates. He missed the easy banter and how they had all grown to accept him despite his many faults. He missed Thor’s booming laugh, Steve’s easy blushes, and Clint’s manic laugher. Hell, he even missed Natasha’s cold exterior. He sighed and pressed his face into the pillow.
“How sure are you that I can get home?” he whispered.
Iron Dust was the one that answered. “We’ll get you home. We have Luna’s guiding light. We’re in Great Forks, and I’ve been told, there’s nothing impossible in this city.”
“Tell me about it? The city.”
White Song groaned and pulled the pillow up over her head. “Tomorrow you’ll see it. Tonight, sleep!”
“I’m not tired,” Tony protested. He’d had more sleep these last three days than he’d had all month.
He missed missing meals and designated sleeping patterns and his lab. Oh, his machines must be so lonely without him. Hell, he’d admit it; he was lonely without his machines. And his team. But mostly his machines. He sighed and sat up. The helmet was still sitting on the table where he had left it, and his hands itched to pull the armor on and force the magic of this world to act like science and find a way to get himself home.
He really wasn’t good at letting people help him.
White Song’s arm flopped up over his chest and her long fingers gripped his far shoulder. She pulled him back down to the bed and this time he faced her. Then he frowned.
“Is that my shirt?”
Indeed it was, the black band tee was all she was wearing.
“What’s a shirt?”
Oh, right, different words. He reached out and picked at the collar. “This top. It’s mine.”
She made a soft noise and shifted, still more than half asleep. “It gets cold here.” She tried to pull her legs up to her chest, but the bed was too small for her to curl up, so she snuggled closer to Iron Dust.
“Still, it’s totally not fair that you’re wearing my shirt to bed. I didn’t even get to have sex with you, and you’re already wearing my clothes. That’s just not right on so many levels.” At least he could look. And look he did. The shirt barely made her decent, although as he thought about it, it did cover more of her body than her own clothes had.
He huffed a sigh and let his body relax. She had been right; it was getting cold now that the daylight had left them behind. He snuggled closer to her warmth and let the quite of their breaths settle over him and lead him off to sleep.
