So far this month, among other things, I’ve had a USB do something very annoying (thank goodness for data backups) and had a few small batteries I got just last month come apart.
…I’ve never had that happen before. Eep.
Still working on Seeds of Blood with occasional Murphy-induced hiccups. Sometimes these hiccups drive me into working on something that does not currently have a life-or-death fight in it… so I’ve been doing a little fluff.
And no, this isn’t the crossover I’ve been threatening. I’m still assembling notes and ideas for that. This is straight post-series fluff. May well end up AU if they make another season. And not finished yet, don’t expect more soon, but I have a definite “this is where the story ends” image in my head, which is knock-on-wood promising for eventually getting finished.
(One problem with Sky and Whispers is I’m still trying to figure out what is the best endpoint!)
Rattle and bump. Regular. Soothing. None of the rapid-fire teeth-clacking vibration that meant Yukina was pushing the Koutetsujou to its limits, or the extra thump of momentum from pulling another train full of Hunters and Kabane. Just the normal rumbling hum of their home on intact tracks, making good time away from disaster.
Home, Ikoma thought fuzzily, blinking through the dark at the metal shelf above his bunk. Had to be the locomotive, he knew that little nick in the steel overhead. Just as he knew the breathing from hammocks around him, or the silent presence, sharp as a blade, standing near the head of his bunk. Who’d have thought home would be somewhere on wheels….
Shift in vibration. The first soft hiss of brakes tapping on. “Why are we slowing down?”
“You’re awake again?”
Kurusu. Indigo hair properly up again, if a little ragged at the ends; he should tell Kibito to go at it with scissors. Properly dressed – and that was definitely Kurusu, fighting-formal even in the middle of the night. Ikoma blinked, feeling as if he were missing something. “Again?”
“You’ve been in and out a few times.” Kurusu unshielded a candle lantern, turned aside just enough to not blind either of them. “Lady Ayame has ordered a stop so the survivors can pray for their dead.” His face was set in grim resolve, just a little crinkle of eyes giving away that the bushi was well and truly fed up with someone. “So… both groups of survivors can pray.”
“The Hunters.” For a moment Ikoma’s whole world flashed red; how dare they take refuge on the Koutetsujou after Iwato Station, and Kongokaku-!
“Uryuu traded Lady Ayame a safe route out, for passage,” Kurusu stated. “And where to find us.”
That… made sense. Damn it. Lady Ayame had to put lives first. “Just keep them away from Mumei.”
“We’re keeping them away from both of you.” An amused flick of dark brows. “It’s not hard. Uryuu’s settled what’s left of his men in a car away from Kongokaku survivors. Eight Hunters, some of them wounded, all of them exhausted… they know when they’re outnumbered.”
Hah. He’d just bet Uryuu did. The Hunter might have been crazy enough to follow Biba through unleashing Kabane on helpless stations, but he wasn’t an idiot.
But there was something much more important than hate-blind murderous Hunters on their train. “I need another restraint-”
“Mumei found you a ribbon.” That might have been a hint of a smirk on Kurusu’s face. Maybe. “It’s green.”