Friday Fiction: Rage.

By | May 29, 2009


She walked in the door of his house, her eyes unfocussed. She tried to smile, but she couldn’t feel her face around the pulp of her broken nose, or the swelling in her upper lip. In fact, she couldn’t feel anything. The pain had given way to numbness. Her whole body was a slow moving mass of cold and hot flashes.

She dropped the axe on the floor with a thud, trying to focus upon the man across the room, but her vision swam, and she felt herself falling. Colors blurred to muddied shades of gray as she struck the floor, her armor clanging against the hardwood.

Darkness fell.

A month prior.

Seylon eyed Chryste, handing her another mug of grog. “So ya know ya get weird. Ya recognize it. Recognizin’ it’s the hard part, Sugar. Just remember, an’ be careful, an’ . . . it’ll be fine.”

“I . . . I’ll try Miss Seylon.”

“Good girl. An’ look, I like ya, Sugar. If I see ya going wonky on me, I’ll help ya out, all right? Ya got my word.”

“Thank you.”

“Now then, ’bout Plyenar . . .”

Afternoon, yesterday.

“I’m rejoining the deathstalkers.”

Seylon eyed her box like it had grown horns, a tail, and a forked tongue. “What? Why NOW?” She tried not to sound so exasperated, but she was sick and goddess damned tired of Plyenar’s histrionics.

“She’s threatening to kill everyone near me. She says I’m hers. I’m fucking FERIGORD. I belong to no one.”

“Ahh hell. She went wonky.”

“Wonky? What?”

Seylon sighed. “She fell in love with ya and went wonky. I thought ya know, she’d recognize it an’ work through it, but . . . something must’ve set her off.”

“. . . well I did mention wanting to have an open relationship like you and Aleros . .. “

“Ya did wha . . . oh. Yeah, that’ll do it. Look, relax. I’ll talk to her. I know how to handle this. Stop runnin’ away and flyin’ off the handle. She’s worth tryin’ to fix.”

“She’s crazy!”

“So are you!”

“She’s threatening to kill everyone who looks at me, Sey . . .”

”You threatened to kill me two weeks ago.”

Plyenar paused. “Well yeah, but that was different. I was bluffing.”

“Uh huh. I’ll talk to her.”

“Sey . . . “ there was a warning in his tone.

“No Sugar, she made me a promise, damn it. An’ I’m gonna make sure she remembers it.”

Evening, yesterday.

Seylon eyed Chryste, taking note of the too red eyes, the gentle shaking of the warrior’s shoulders as she moved.

Yep. Completely wonky.

She gave it three hours before Chrystal snapped, taking blade and fist and tooth and club to anything that got in her way. Sey understood rage and anger. She understood being a slave to it. Add in an unstable relationship, and she knew they had the makings of imminent disaster on their hands.

If she goes ballistic, she’ll hurt herself, her guild, and Plyenar. But most important, she’ll hurt that kid of hers. Why is it they never think of their kid?

Seylon sighed a little under her breath, understanding what she needed to do. Without a second glance she spun around, pulling her fist back and planting it in Chryste’s chin.

“That’s for goin’ wonky and breakin’ your promise, Sugar.”

Chryste’s head snapped back and she stumbled, her gauntleted hand going to her mouth. Her pretty eyes narrowed as she spit out a mouthful of blood. “Stop pretending to hit me and HIT ME.”

“I will, when we get out of here.”

Chrystal nodded. Seylon nodded back.

It was settled.

Later that night, in The Barrens.

Seylon stepped off of the boat, fully armored. Her axe was strapped to her back.

“This is gonna hurt,” she said into her gnomebox, popping a mintleaf into her mouth. “I might need ya in a bit, Sugar.”

There was a dull purr on the other end of the line. “Be careful. I’ll be waiting.”

It made her feel a little better. Sure, she was about to get her ass kicked all over the Barrens, but at least she knew Aleros would patch her up. Pain, but only temporary pain. She could handle that.

So if I work this right, she’ll be too damned tired to go out and kill anyone. If I succeed in just buying time – time so she can calm down, time so Plyenar can make up his mind what he needs to do – I’ve won. I just . . . need to survive it til she tires herself out.

She walked to the small house on the hill, staring up at the silhouette on the porch. She recognized the heavy spaulders as Chrystal’s, and she sighed.

“Chrystal, we need to talk Sugar. An’ for this talk, I’m puttin’ my axe down. You can bring it, but ya ain’t bringin’ it with blades.”

Chrystal launched herself over the railing of the porch and hit the ground, her boots kicking up angry puffs of dust. “You hit me.”

“Yep, an’ I’m gonna do it again.”

“ . . . “

It began.

Four hours later.

Seylon grabbed her stomach, vomiting more blood into the bush by her head. She fumbled for her gnomebox, her fingers shaking as she found Threnn’s frequency, dialing the familiar numbers.

“Threnn,” she wheezed, rolling onto her back. She stared up at the stars, her broken hand clutched to her chest.

Threnn’s voice was heavy with sleep. ”Sey? You okay?”

“Yeah. Sugar, look . . . “ She coughed again, her voice going raspy. “Chrystal needs some healin’ out this way. Bit of a skirmish. She ain’t . . . doin’ too good. Might wanna bring Bric, though. She’s wonky. Don’t want anyone gettin’ hurt.”

“Wonk . . . Seylon, are YOU okay.”

“I got Kitty. Get out here. Barrens.”

She stabbed the box off and tried to lift her head, her body bowing in pain. Nearby, the lump that was Chrystal’s body twitched, but otherwise remained motionless.

It was a half hour for her to gain her feet. She used her stone to recall to Menethil and shambled to the boat, ignoring the looks of the passers by. A young magess stopped her and bandaged some of her wounds. Sey attempted a smile, but ended up spitting out her front two teeth, wincing as the bloodied pair hit her palm.

Ashenvale, Old Girl. Just need to make it to Ashenvale.

It was the longest trip of her life.

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