Work Text:
The leaves in Autumn were red, and housing was situated in the branches of trees that reached into the roof of the ship. Phil left his assigned family safe inside their new home and wound his way down the staircase that wrapped around the trunk of the Ancient’s new growth.
Etoiles was on the edge of the ship, hands jammed in his pockets and staring into the fog.
Phil waved. “Etoiles!”
His friend turned towards him, wearing the same fighter tabard as Phil and a big grin on his green face. “Philza, my goat!” He hugged him, then held him out at arm’s length. “You are looking well, you are ready to fight many monsters, you will strafe and attack and defend us all, you have high cpm, this is true?”
Phil pushed at his shoulder, grinning back. “That’s you, I’m a fuckin’ dumbass. I can maybe watch your back. Maybe. Do my best.”
“Watch my back because I am shit, I am leaving myself open all the time, I do not deserve my shield.” Etoiles dropped his arms and sat down on the bank. “How is your family?”
Phil sat next to him, dry grass crinkling. “They’re good. Chayanne’s excited about new foods here, and Tallulah’s already caught so many jars of bugs and shit. We’re havin’ to put them up on the windowsills. You?”
“We are good, we are surviving, Pomme is ready to fight and Baghera is trying to have me put shit in my room.” Etoiles chucked a rock into the fog. It eddied, shapes forming and unforming as the pure magic beyond the edge of the ship met the realm an Ancient fae had carved out of the chaos of the Summerlands. “I will not, I have told her, a warrior does not need decorations and comforts. I need to be ready to fight, that is all.”
Phil glanced at him, smile turning the corner of his mouth upwards. “What did you have on your bed last time, a fuckin’ towel? Bruh.”
“That was in Summer, that was because of the heat, I do not need a comforter, even if we have moved.” He pitched another rock, watched the fog for a moment, and then lay back in the yellow grass, arms stretched over his head. “They are saying that there will be no fights, with the new borders.” He sighed. “I think I will die, Phillipe, this is the worst thing.”
Phil picked a handful of grass and dropped it on him. “Yeah, that’s how it works, isn’t it? Old place breaks down, they make a new one, we keep—“ he waved a hand. “Travellin’. Wherever they want to bring us.”
Etoiles stared at him, dark eyes intent. “We could have stayed longer in Summer. The fights were not too bad.”
Phil grinned crookedly. “Not too bad for you, everyone else was strugglin’, mate.” He turned and lowered himself to the ground, shoulder pressing up against Etoiles. His tabard was slightly askew, while his friend’s was crisp and sharp. Phil nudged Etoiles. “I’ll spar you, if you want.”
Etoiles folded his hands over his stomach, staring up into the interlocking trees. Far above, red leaves fell endlessly. Birds swooped in the branches, too small to discern the details before they disappeared in little pops of orange light. “Stick fights? My bro, this will be excellent. Maybe I will not go die in the river because I am like dirt and there is nothing here for me.”
Phil glanced in his direction, then turned his attention upwards as well. A few spots of brightness were visible above through the leaves, where an enchanted sun above the trees never burned through the clouds. “First of all, Pomme—
“I know, I know this.” Etoiles heaved a sigh. “It is just—you know, how it is.” He waved a hand vaguely above him, then held it between him and the trees. He stared at the green skin, the paler scars on the back of it. “To fight only for the Ancients and move at their command, be given their family, a world I can cross in an hour walking—“ He shrugged, voice light. “I would choose my own fights.”
“Yeah, well, if we run they fuckin’ catch us, and if we die they grow new fuckin’ fighters, so it’s not like it matters either way, right?” Phil kept his tone matter of fact. “Gotta make the best of it.”
Etoiles grinned broadly upwards. “This time I think if we run we can make it. Think of the monsters if we leave the ship. It is a good fight, no?” He sighed, resigned. “But it would not be good to come apart into pieces, so not yet. And, you know.” He exhaled. “The others would be unsafe.”
“Yeah, hard to keep everybody safe if we leave fuckin’ reality.” Phil’s voice was dry. He folded his hands over his stomach, shoulder pressed into his friend. In a blackberry bramble at the bottom of the hill, a red-furred squirrel emerged and started along the edge of the hillside. “So we keep goin’, stay alive till they kill us, right? Lettin’ ‘em win otherwise, and fuck those old shits.”
Etoiles chuckled as he kept an eye on the little creature. “I am very bad at the fight, I am like trash, even the smallest monster can defeat me, but I do not like letting the Ancients win.” He grinned at Phil. “They gave me a sword and told me to fight, and I am very stupid, it is all I know how to do.”
“Oh come on, you’re wicked smart.” Phil hit Etoiles with the back of his hand. “You know all those languages, and you’re a better fighter than me by miles, and you know all the shit about monsters where I’m just fuckin’ reactin’, and—you’re crazy smart, mate.”
“Bro, my bro, saying these things, you will make my head too big to fit between trees, and then I will get stuck, and then the monsters will come and I will die like I deserve!” Etoiles proclaimed. “Because I do not remember that I am trash!” The squirrel headed into the trees, disappearing into a hollow in the roots with a pop of green light, and Etoiles’ shoulders relaxed slightly.
“That’s not—“ Phil started, and then laughed. He turned his head and pressed his face into Etoiles’ shoulder. “Look, I’d be worse off without you, how about that?”
Etoiles reached with his off hand and ran it over Phil’s head. “But of course, my bro, you are my goat. Where would we be without each other?” He curled a strand of Phil’s hair around his finger for a moment. “Are we going to stick fight now?”
Above them, a blackbird swooped down from the branches and landed on the ground, then took to the air again and flew into the fog. Phil rolled back to watch it go, and then pushed himself upright again. He picked some strands of grass out of his hair. There was no pop of light. The blackbird didn’t come back. Phil aimed a grin down at Etoiles. “Sure, let’s go fight.”