he's only *mostly* petrified || Quirk #15

 

 

*waves magic Intro wand* BOOM okay let's go. Story first, talking after!

One Quirk Later: Prompt #16

“Rupert.”

He froze at the shout, then dropped his head. “The door’s unlocked,” he called back, hands braced on the table, “so if you’d be so good as to not-”

The door crashed back against the wall, rattling the row of pot plants on the windowsill. One wobbled on the edge then gave in, spraying dirt and pieces of succulent across the floor.

Irene, Protector of the New Golden Kingdom and Defender of the Innocent, stepped inside.

It wasn’t her first time turning up furious after his meddling, some political machination or intimidation. But he really hadn’t been anticipating her arrival today, and he didn’t keep weapons in his kitchen, and he stumbled and nearly fell as he pushed away from the table until the wall hit his back.

A second later her hand wrapped around his throat, and he stiffened.

This was not normal.

“I assume I deserve this,” he said, as lightly as he could manage given the immediate threat to his air supply, “but can you tell me why you want to kill me this time?” This time. He’d never believed she might actually mean it before.

“You know.”

“…Of course. That. Dastardly thing to do, yes, I see now how you realised that was all my doing. Are—are you meaning the counseller from Dann or that little thing with the river gang? I mean, crashing that celebration on the border was basically a civil service, if you look at it the right way–”

She leaned in, her eyes tight at the corners. “Matteo.”

He flinched, genuinely startled. “You’re here because of what I did to him? But he–”

“Where have you put him?”

“We fought, he lost, I put him in the ground-” Her thumb pressed harder on the side of his throat, and Rupert raised his open hands. “He’s in the garden. Stone. Obviously.”

She released him and stepped back, jerking her chin toward the back door. “Take me to him.”

Oh, this was ridiculous. He knew the hero complex could be dramatic. She’d lived it since the day when she first stood in front of her people—in the same scuffed farm boots he could hear now following him across the kitchen—and promised she could lead them to freedom, to become a nation again.

He’d stood by her side, then.

But there was a difference between being a hero and a straight-up fool. Rupert, rubbing his throat as he stepped out of the house and into the expansive back garden, felt that in this instance the distinction was fairly clear.

When your arch-enemy takes out some newcomer who has been tearing your nation to pieces, you ought to leave well enough alone.

Rupert ducked under a hanging passionfruit vine and reflected, somewhat numbly, that when he’d been rooted out from the ranks of the loyal, he’d simply fallen into the role of villain. Irene hadn’t come crashing into anyone’s life to save him. Where was the hero complex then, hmm? For someone who had stood beside her, who wanted to end problems instead of letting them return to hurt her?

For a second, he considered turning around and refusing to continue. But he could feel Irene’s presence behind him, and with the dark mood she was in, he doubted there was any argument he could make that she would listen to more than two words of.

He rounded a corner and stopped in front of a marble statue, tucked in a nook between trees, not yet affected by the mossy nature of its surroundings. Matteo. His face twisted up, fear still showing in his blank eyes and his sword mid-swing. As Irene stepped up beside Rupert and she saw the figure, a mix of emotions flashed across her face.

“There.” He gestured wildly with one arm. “Mostly fine, just a little petrified. Happy now?”

In answer, Irene drew her sword. The stained one she didn’t normally carry any more, the one she’d used as she rose to fame to emerge as a hero.

Rupert tripped on his own feet trying to jump away and landed hard on his backside. He lifted his palms, stinging and grass-stained, as if they could hold her off. “I can turn him back!” he jabbered. “You know I can, you, if, let me just-”

One stride, and Irene was right by Rupert, who stared at her wide-eyed. Two strides took her past and close enough to the statue to smash the pommel into its face in a wide backhand. Splinters of marble sprayed out. Rupert threw his arms across his head and squeezed his eyes shut as they peppered down on him.

A thud, too close for comfort. He flinched and brought his arms down enough to see.

The marble head sat in its own grassy indentation in front of him. Nose gone, a crack slicing down through one eye and splintering out across the face, surrounded by a scattering of white marble crumbs.

Without a word, Irene turned and left the way she’d come.

Rupert didn’t stop shaking for half an hour.

so I don't know whether to add this to my tally of angst Quirks or not?? it feels different, to me... It was fun to explore potential results of Chosen Ones and broken relationships, though!

  • • • • • • •

For July, the Quirk-writers are some of our regular and beloved contributors! We have: 

The Sponge @ The Story Sponge

 

Samantha @ Sam's Bookshire

Thank you, Sponge, Sam! It's marvelous that you keep coming back to party with us 💛

  • • • • • • •

Now for some update-y notices. Announcer voice:

There will be no Quirk in August. This is because it's already almost halfway through the month. (I keep turning up late and then saying oops. That's my personality neatly summarised for you.) Also a bit of work stuff. (Including Book Week... I work at a library and I'd really like to dress up!) 

And there won't be one in September either. That is due to a big and book-ish event which is scheduled for that month!

...it's a yearly event, and I was involved last year, so it's not at all secret, but... it feels weird saying the name, like I shouldn't because that feels like an announcement and there hasn't been anything official said yet 😅 But yes! September! be there or be a sad bookworm!