Tick Tock

it is time to once again loudly express my appreciation for the whumpee collapsing on the caretaker’s doorstep

if you do this, i will love you eternally

It’s not intended. Not really. Jynx tells himself he shouldn’t come here, drop out of the sky after months of no contact. But it’s hard to draw a breath, hard to walk. And Ros’ place is the closest.

He reasons that it’s okay, it’s not the first time he’s randomly stopped by to get patched up and a meal. Ros is generous like that. Taking time to make sure his friend- lover- whatever they are, is cared for.

But with each limping step it’s becoming more difficult to walk with his leg like this, ribs broken. Hard to breath, even harder to stay upright. He stops and puts a hand against the rough brick side of a building. Has to keep going. He can’t just, not. Not when he’s so close to help. Ros would kill him if he died on some random sidewalk.

Jynx feels lightheaded but he decides to keep going. Almost there, almost there. He sees the back door to Ros’ tavern and his breath hitches painfully in his chest. Doorstep yeah... just needs to sit down for a second.... needs to take the pressure off his leg... he’ll feel better if he rests for a minute...

Ros goes to dump a bucket of dirty dishwater out the backdoor and almost drops the whole thing in shock. “Jynx?!”

“what do you mean, get out?”

“I’ve got no more use for you. Sorry, love, but I just don’t need you anymore.”

To think that after all this time he had made it back to the sea again made Dray almost want to cry. The smells, the sounds- just the whole atmosphere. It brought a smile to his lips that hadn’t been there in a very long time.

Walking along the docks, scanning for that one particular ship. Home. They should be here, if he hadn’t gotten his days mixed up again. That seemed to happen a lot. But no, he was sure this was they day. He had checked with the dock manager the day before, ignoring how the man looked at him with a mixture of confused pity.

Okay sure, Dray knew he wasn’t looking his prime right now. Too long hair, dirty clothes, and scars on every visible surface of skin. But cleaning up would take money, money he didn’t have. And besides, that all wouldn’t matter once he found the Lavender’s Green.

Off towards the end of the dock, he thought he spotted it. His heart lept into his throat. It had been so long since that day when he had been knocked overboard, unconscious during a battle and fished out by the wrong side. They probably thought he was dead. Wouldn’t they be surprised?

He ignored the looks he got has he darted down the dock, swerving people and jumping over crates. He was out of breath when he reached the gangway, but he didn’t care. He was finally back.

Dray climbed aboard, looking around the deck. He got some strange looks from crew he did not recognize. New hands, he thought. He headed towards the cabins at the end of the ship but someone put their arm out to stop him. “Where do you think you’re going?” He sneered.

Dray frowned. “I’m going to see the captain. Now let me by, or you’ll wish you had.”

The man looked almost surprised for a second before he started laughing like it was some great joke. “Is the beggar man threatening me? Hey fellows- this guy’s threatening me.” That drew the interest of several other sailors.

Dray’s fingers twitched and he clenched his fists. “Is Issac Pyke still captain of this ship? If so, I need to speak to him. Please.”

“So the beggar mongrel actually knows ho-“ There was a crack of fist hitting the sailor’s cheek, snapping his head to the side and sending him reeling. Dray’s knuckles were smarting but he never felt that anymore. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

Two sailors grabbed him from behind and he tried to pull away, panic rising in his chest. “Let go!”

“What in the twelve seas is going on at this hour of the mornin?!” A booming voice rolled over the deck. “There is no fighting on my ship while in port.”

Dray wanted to grin. Isaac. He would fix this and Dray would be home again. The other sailor didn’t look so happy, holding his bruising face. “He attacked me like some wild dog! Just came aboard and attacked me!”

Isaac turned to look at the offender. Dray just looked up at that mountain of a man and smiled. “Long time no see, Hey Isaac?”

An unreadable look passed over the captain’s face. “Let him go. You- follow me”, he said pointing at Dray, and he happily did.

Once in the privacy of the captain’s quarters, Isaac turned to Dray. “How are you even here?”

Dray looked confused. “What do you mean? After that battle, you left. I was fished out by scavengers and sold off like a horse! All this time I’ve just been trying to get back.”

Isaac sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why did you feel the need to attack one of my men?”

“He was asking for it”, Dray said, folding his arms across his chest defensively. “I’m honestly surprised. You usually run a tighter ship- don’t let you men act like that.”

“So you’re going to tell me how to do my job now?” Isaac boomed and Dray flinched involuntarily. “Because if I’m not mistaken, you were the one that threw the first punch. So you have no room to be talking in this.” He sat down at his desk and pulled a stack of papers over. “I’m sorry Dray. Im glad you’re alive and okay, but I don’t think I have room on my ship for someone like you anymore.”

“W-what?” No- no no this was home, this was-

“You heard me Dray. Don’t make me repeat it. Get out.”

“What do you mean, get out?! Isaac you don’t know how much I went through to get back here, I-“

“I don’t have anymore use for you. I’m sorry Dray, I just don’t have room in my crew for someone like you.”

Those words broke something inside. And he thought there was nothing left to break. “I- I see. I’ll go then.” He slowly and walked towards the door.

“Dray wait...”

Dray looked over his shoulder hopefully, hardly daring to believe that Isaac would change his mind-

“Where are your wings?”

Right. Of course. He was just a curiosity, even to Isaac. “I don’t use them anymore.” And then he walked away from what he had thought was his home- for good.

A whumper having the ability to create a time pocket or loop time and keep the whumpee there. To people that might be looking for them, they’re only gone a few hours or days, but to the whumpee it’s weeks or months.

Day 3.

Archer scratched a tally mark on the wall, squinting to see in the darkness of his cell. It was something to occupy his mind while he waited for his friends to come.

They were taking a while. It was team policy to never let a rescue operation take more than two days unless it was impossible to do otherwise. Typically Archer led the rescue missions, but his captor was a foe they’d never faced before.

They were unprepared, while their opponent was not. They knew Jewel was an empath, they knew Archer was blessed by Apollo, they knew darkness would keep him weak.

That was why they were taking so long.

Day 25.

What was taking them so long?

Archer clutched his arm to his chest, wincing as he wrapped a torn strip of his shirt around his arm. He was told he would be given “company” today. He wasn’t sure what that meant, maybe another teammate had been captured? He would have been relieved to see a familiar face, even if they were trapped, too.

Instead, he met his captor’s “pet”.

In the darkness, he couldn’t tell what it was, but it shattered his glasses (not that they were helpful) and left him groaning in pain in a corner, covered in his own blood.

A groan forced its way through his teeth as he wrapped the dirty cloth around the area where he could feel the most blood.

“Please hurry up,” he whispered to nobody.

Day 50.

Day 147.

Day 200.

Day 1,823.

He dully scratched another tally mark into the wall with his fingernail. His captor had noticed what he was doing months ago, seemed to find it amusing for some reason.

It was two days away from five years.

He barely had a reason for keeping track of the days anymore; he just knew it gave his mind something to think about.

Something other than the fact that his friends weren’t coming. They were probably dead.

His arm twinged in pain; he reached up and felt empty space. As soon as he did, Archer sighed and put his face in his hand.

They’d cut off his arm three years ago. It still gave him phantom pains.

He tried to focus on something else, forcing his mind onto autopilot. They’d broken his leg yesterday. The exhausted teen had tried to set it as best he could, and had screamed into the darkness from the sheer agony. It had been a while since they’d broken his bones.

Quietly, he assessed his broken body as best he could. One arm, bruised to all hell, but no broken skin. His chest was bandaged using one of his few scraps of cloth he had left. One broken leg, one missing arm, and one throbbing headache. So today was a good day then.

Day 1,912.

Someone let light into the room, making him cry out as it blinded him.

He flinched back, drew his remaining limbs into himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, turned his face away.

His heart raced as he remembered the last time he’d seen light, how they’d wanted him to be stronger as they cut into him over and over and exclaimed at how long he could hold up.

His back hit the solid stone behind him as he hid his face, flinching away from the lights, the shouting. It was too much, too much-

“D- don’t- don’t t-”

“Guys! Guys! I found him! Archer, thank the stars!”

Who was Archer?

He turned away, trembling as footsteps approached him.

“Archer?” The voice was softer now, gentle. It made him flinch. “It’s me, you’re safe now.”

Safe?

“Archer, please answer me.”

Why did she keep saying Archer? Was that him? No, he was a pet, nothing more.

“Archer? Are you okay?” The voice started to ramble. “I’m so sorry we left you here for so long, I kept petitioning to leave sooner, but it took us three whole days just to find out where you were! It’s no excuse for leaving you in here for an entire week, though, and I’m so sorry. Are-”

The girl stopped talking. Archer barely noticed because she’d moved, allowing the light to wash over him and it was bright, too bright, and he was going to be hurt-

“Archer, what have they done to you?” Her voice was a whisper.

He- Archer? dared to open his eyes, to crack them just enough to see a red halo around the person standing above him.

“Not real,” he slurred weakly. Was this another fever dream?

“No, Archer, it’s me, it’s really me, it’s Jewel, can-” She reached out to touch him, but stopped when he recoiled.

He blinked open his eyes again, wincing at the light. “Jewel?” He repeated weakly. His tired eyes took in red hair, green eyes, freckles, concern.

Jewel knelt down in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder. They both flinched, Archer at the touch, Jewel at the sudden burst of empathy that jolted through her on the contact.

“Archer!” More footsteps thudded towards them (his hearing had become especially acute in the darkness). “Thank the stars you’re okay!”

He squinted up at the source of the voice, confused. “Who..?” He frowned, closing his eyes and opening them as if that would make the girl above him appear in his memories.

The girl looked worried. “Come on, Archer,” she said in a lighthearted tone that sounded too light, “Surely a week couldn’t make you forget this lovely face! Wren, get some light in here, this darkness has got to be killing him.”

Archer flinched as someone raised a lantern, raising his hand to block the light.

There was silence.

When he finally opened his eyes again, two of his rescuers were staring at the wall, where his hundreds of tally marks had been painstakingly scratched into the stones. Jewel was staring at him.

“Archer, how long have you been here?”

When a whumpee promises they can stand, and the effort commences - the wobbly legs holding their weight, the shaking hands pressing to something for support, leaning against the wall, almost sliding right back down.

“I’m fine really”, Teddy panted, pushing off the ground to try and stand. He had to prove he was okay- that he could hold his own, that he wasn’t a deadweight. He was a leader. He could show no weakness.

“You don’t look fine...” Jace said. “Let me help-“

“No! No I’m okay. I’ve got this.” He used the wall to hoist himself up and almost cried out from the strain it put on his ankle. He bit his lip and leaned his forehead against the wall, unwilling to give up but not wanting to put anymore weight on his foot then he needed too. “J-just give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute Ted.” Jace turned and collected the case they were supposed to return to base. He heard a grunt and the sound of a body hitting the floor and turned around sharply. “Ted? Teddy?”

He rushed to his younger friend who was now laying on the floor. He knelt down. “Hey- I thought you said it wasn’t that bad.” He tried to help him up but he recoiled in horror when he felt something hot and sticky on his hand. “Dammit Teddy.”

“Another defiant little act, another mark on you. Come here for your punishment.”

“We’ve been over this Quinn. Another defiant little act, another mark on you.” His master circled him slowly, shaking his head as if disappointed. “I’ve tried my best to teach you, but nothing seems to get through that head of yours.”

Quinn jutted out his chin defiantly and resisted the urge to plant a hoof in this man’s stomach. Let him keep trying. He wouldn’t be able to-

“So I thought maybe this time we try a different approach.” The master snapped his fingers and a bodyguard walked into the room, his hand roughly gripping the shoulder of El, his baby brother. He looked scared.

“No please- no he’s just a kid- I’m sorry!” Quinn said, fighting against the ropes that tied his arms together.

The master smiled in a cruel imitation of sympathy. “You should have thought about that before you chose to defy me.” He walked over to the fireplace and pulled a branding rod out carefully and looked over at the trembling boy. “Come here for your punishment.”

“He didn’t do anything! Please don’t- I’ll do anything I promise please!” Quinn begged. “Please sir.”

“Silence”, his master snapped. “I’m tired of your begging. Another word from you and he will get twice the punishment.”

El was shaking so badly he looked like he might fall over, but he slowly walked towards their master.

“Maybe next time your brother will remember his place”, the master sneered, before jabbing the searing hot brand against El’s left hip. The boy screamed and Quinn had to bite his tongue so as not to make a sound. He didn’t doubt the master would hold to his word and double the punishment if he spoke.

The smell was terrible and made Quinn sick. This was barbaric and so wrong and he had caused this. It was his fault that his brother was permanently marked by their master.

El’s cries had been reduced to sobbing whimpers as he struggled to stay standing. The master returned the brand to the fire and stroked the boy’s hair back. “Now maybe your brother will remember to be obedient, no? He wouldn’t want you to suffer any more for his sake”, he said, looking at Quinn the whole time. “Now would he?”

“If you knew it wouldn’t work, sugar, why did you try to escape? You must want to be punished.”

Of course he knew it wouldn’t work. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried before. And he would keep trying, even though failure was his only option. They seemed to enjoy watching him try, his struggle an amusement to them. But the collar on his neck and the band on his arm kept him from being able to escape.

Now he was here, knelt at her feet again, scowling angrily at the immaculate white fur rug just in front of him.

“Come come now. I’m hurt you don’t want to stay here. It cost me an awful lot to acquire someone like you and yet you only wish to escape.”

He glanced up at her, enthroned above him, looking like the goddess she claimed to be. The delicate quirk of her lip and brow, and the soft furs arranged around her smooth white shoulders with the upmost care by more loving slaves then he.

She caught his glare and held it. “If you knew it wouldn’t work, darling, why did you try to escape? You must want to be punished.” Her everpresent smile grew cold.

His fury burned hot under his skin. This was degrading, infuriating-

Her hum of amusement brought him back from his angry thoughts.

“I’ll enjoy watching you in the arena tonight.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find this? You’re gonna watch me burn it.”

The piece of paper is held out in front of him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he simply wanted to know what his own name looked like.

“Who wrote this?” the Keeper demanded. “And why do you have it?”

Jynx shrunk away instinctively. “I- It was a guest”, he said hesitantly. “Th-they were writing and asked if I wanted to see my name.” The kind guest. The only one that had ever treated him like he was actually a living person. The only guest who had ever looked at him as more than what he was. A temple whore.

The Keeper growled and grabbed him by the front of his loose shirt. “And you didn’t politely decline you worthless bitch? You aren’t allowed to posses written anything! You belong to the temple and your only purpose is to serve the guests. Nothing more. Did you think I wouldn’t find this?” The keeper shook the innocent piece of paper.

“I-I’m sorry”, he stammered. “I thought-“

“You thought”, the keeper sneered. “You aren’t supposed to think. You thought you could keep this? You’re going to watch me burn it.” She paused, a cruel smiled twisting across her face. “No wait... you’re going to burn it.”

Jynx’s heart sank to the bottom of his shoeless feet.