[Event 2] No Such Thing As Safety [Kylan]

[Ludwig A. Beilschmidt]

baby you're a firestorm you're a loaded cannon

This is a dream. The sky had grown lighter, going from the deepest blue to a cloud-covered gray; the ugly color reminded Ludwig of a bruise, but at least the sun wasn’t out. He had to have been jogging for at least an hour. Slowing down to a careful walk, he glanced warily around at the deserted streets. This can’t be anything but a dream. Cutting through the back alleys and streets of Arcadia in the early morning fog, Ludwig felt completely isolated, like he’d become the last person on earth. But the sensation came across not as frightening but instead as weirdly exhilarating, and that, combined with his mad dash away from the Underground, left him unusually breathless and light-headed. After a moment, the German risked a brief stop, leaning against a wall with his elbow as he tried — once again — to process the night’s events. Feliciano had woken him up, banging on the bars of his cell and whispering frantically from the wrong side before unlocking the door and urging him to run. Ludwig had thought he’d been dreaming then too; Feli wouldn’t have been on that side of the bars for any reason. But he’d blindly obeyed, and for once his reflex response to being ordered around had paid off with something more than a sick twist of self-disgust under his ribs. The corridor outside his cell had filled with familiar faces: cellmates, rivals, arena defeats, and after receiving more hushed instructions from his friend, Ludwig had joined the crowd, dashing through a puddle of freezing water along the cold concrete hall, back, right, around, and then up, up, up into the cold night air and away from his home. From that point, instinct had taken over and Ludwig had run, run as fast as he could to get away from the other escapees and from the Underground. Now, with his adrenaline fading, he realized that this had not been a good plan. He could recall promising to meet Feli again… but where? And how would they even meet — they hadn’t established any way to communicate. For that matter, Ludwig had no idea where he was. And no doubt the alarms had gone off in the Underground by now. And he was standing like any normal person under a brightening sky dressed only in the flimsy secondhand clothes of a mutant and giving off faint tendrils of steam. And he had escaped from the Underground and he shouldn't have done that, that was stupid, why had he even listened to such an idea, this would only get him in trouble, and what about... As panic began to set his heart racing, Ludwig took a deep breath, forced it down, and stepped off at a brisk walk, his thoughts racing where his feet could not. A well-known arena victor would need a way to hide his face and form. The garbagemen of Arcadia had not apparently made their rounds yet, and after rifling through a row of reeking dumpsters, Ludwig came away with a damp hat and a large damaged jacket. Both were dirty and well worn, but Ludwig hoped the rudimentary disguise would help conceal him at least a little. More immediately, he needed to find a place to hide. The morning was wearing on, and already he had seen a few signs of life: the rustling of a curtain, a cat being let outside, a window being closed against the chill air. Garages and backyards were off-limits: he knew no one and could trust no one as a result. And he refused to allow himself to think about what might happen if he were to get caught. The guilt of the escape — preposterous as it was, as leaving the Underground had been one of Ludwig’s permanent goals — threatened to overwhelm him like a wave, and not thinking about the Underground at all seemed to be the easiest way to ignore that matter. He didn’t want to get in trouble, he didn’t want anyone he knew to get in trouble — and the easiest way to ensure that was to not get caught. Stay free and hide. So where to go, what to do? Sit in a dumpster until the evening? The garbagemen could find him. A public building? He looked too suspicious. A— The loud bang of a doorway slamming open sent Ludwig vaulting over a low fence straight into a bush; the rustling was so loud that for a moment, the blond didn’t even dare to breathe. Uncurling in the foliage just a bit, he could see through the gaps in the leaves that his surroundings took the form of a small local park. As he made to climb out, a figure appeared from behind a wall in the distance and Ludwig sank back down, now feigning sleep. Did Arcadia have many homeless people? He sincerely hoped the city did, because if the door-slammer or the stranger stumbled across him, he’d have to pass for one. Let them focus on their jobs and their lives and ignore what they don’t want to see, and then… and then Ludwig could work on how to find his known friends in this hostile place. Word Count: 908 Tags: Kylan Thomassen Notes: i will probably polish this up later but let me know if it is ok!

by worldie for lena

[Kylan Thomassen]

Word Count: 599 Tags: Ludwig A. Beilschmidt Notes: I know it's a little different than we said but when I imagined one of the crows finding him I thought it was too hilarious

"K eep the brat company and bring him back ‘curious stories’ and this is the thanks I get. I was sleeping, goddammit.” There had to be some kind of mutant at work when there was a talking crow – a rather large one at that – was complaining to itself as it flew through the cloudy, wet Russian morning. There was even a bit of a comical yawn, water glistening in the corner of the birds eyes in something far more befitting a cartoon. Occasionally he would glide down and glance about, but otherwise he appeared wholly uninterested in the task at hand. Muninn hadn’t been called for some time, usually bypassed for his more tactical-minded brother Huginn. Even then, Kylan hadn’t been called to use his powers for the government for a fair while. Not at all since the festival and fights had come to pass. Muninn figured it was to give the kid some time to rest. The government of Arkadiya did tend to keep him only for their more – intense situations. As a result most of Kylan’s summons had been left to sleep for months. They might be called for a night of soft talking in his bedroom or for a check by the scientists but that was about it. So to say that the pair of ravens were bleary-eyed and a bit confused when they were woken far earlier than they had ever known their Kylan to be conscious, much less summoning, would be an understatement. Apparently there was some sort of break out from the Underground. Most if not all mutants were out of their cells and running in the streets. Kylan didn’t know all of the details, just what he could pick up from the guards running through the halls outside of his bedroom. It must have been a serious racket to have woken sleepy headed Kylan. Muninn snickered at the thought. Ky had had the forethought even in his sleep-addled brain to leave his chipped hairclip in his room and slip out before he used his abilities. Maybe he was growing up. And so here he was, flying around the city while Kylan slowly moved along the sidewalks himself not too far behind. Muninn wasn’t quite sure what he was even supposed to do if he saw something suspicious, something that screamed mutant activity. Huginn probably listened closer to Kylan’s orders and had a better idea. Buuuut… that was Huginn for you. “The hell-?” He said, a short cock of his head. That definitely was someone jumping over a fence and then crouching beneath some bushes. That wasn’t something you saw in the every day city. Well, maybe in the cool action-oriented kind that Huginn would have liked, but hey. In a gradual dive Huginn brought himself down to land among the branches of the thick bush. Automatically upon his gaining a good foothold he prodded at the inside of his wing with his beak, returning some feeling to them after flying in the cold. Honestly to take him from sleeping comfortably for a month and then thrust him into a Russian morning like this to fly for hours. Kylan could be such a slave driver sometimes. He looked up, spotted the blond hair, the thick body structure. “Hey, you look familiar. You were one of the ones in the tournament.” The bird spoke, voice rather drawl and bored despite the obvious oddity of the topic and situation at hand, much less the factor of him being a large talking crow. Huginn hopped down to the ground beside the crouching person. “What’s your name, pal?” there is a cemetery of words buried beneath your tongue

by worldie for becca

[Ludwig A. Beilschmidt]

baby you're a firestorm you're a loaded cannon

The more he waited, the more Ludwig realized that he needed to keep moving — and he needed to do that soon. The bushes, once so enticing a hiding place for someone disguising themselves as a random vagabond, had become a trap surrounded on all sides by open space. He ought to have hidden somewhere better. Hindsight was always clearer, Ludwig reminded himself, frowning out through the leaves with narrowed eyes. He needed to find some other safe space, but how to extricate himself from the bushes without looking suspicious… in some distant memory of his childhood, he could vaguely recall a drunken man stumbling out of the undergrowth onto a path, but would an adult find that strange? He had no idea. ”Hey, you look familiar.” Ludwig inhaled sharply, his nerves freezing colder than the morning air. It couldn’t be— ”You were one of the ones in the tournament.” Oh no, no no no! He couldn’t have been caught already, that wasn’t… that didn’t seem possible. Ludwig hadn’t gotten far at all, and his rudimentary attempt at a disguise had done nothing. Feeling a fog of despair sinking onto his shoulders, he slowly drew his gaze away from the still empty street to face his accuser: a large raven. As Ludwig frowned in brief confusion, the bird spoke again. ”What’s your name, pal?” At a loss for words, Ludwig studied the bird. For a raven, it seemed unusually large… at least, he thought so, compared to his memories of the ravens in Berlin. But he did recall that ravens weren’t supposed to talk. So what exactly was this? Some kind of trick? A mutant who could turn into a bird sent to hunt him down, or a fellow escapee, one he’d never meant before? And if it turned out to be the latter, what was his purpose greeting Ludwig like this? The whole situation seemed suspicious, but Ludwig now found himself in a uniquely dangerous position: the bird had him trapped. If he tried to run, the raven could call out — or even shout a warning, since it could speak — and if he tried to deal with the raven and then run, Ludwig doubted a bird on fire would draw less attention than a noisy one. And that was assuming this bird was some kind of robot or illusion or trick and not simply a mutant transformed. Inwardly, Ludwig shuddered. He’d never killed anyone before. Would he risk that now, to keep himself free? ”What do you want with me?” he asked, his tone low and wary. ”What are you doing here?” He'd give the creature nothing it could use against him, whatever the nature of its existence was. If it recognized him from the tournament, it knew damn well what he could do, and if it were smart, it knew not to push him too much. Word Count: 485 Tags: Kylan Thomassen Notes: i am slow and horrible

by worldie for lena

[Kylan Thomassen]

Word Count: 466 Tags: Ludwig A. Beilschmidt Notes: fff nah you're fine

S uspicious, withholding as much as he could. Typical mutant behavior. Perhaps also typical of anyone talking to a speaking animal for the first time, but alas. Muninn could only hope that eventually with the existence of mutants he could eventually have a conversation with someone without having to go through some kind of spiel. And now that he was getting something along the lines, it was so typical for the situation it was just boring. The bird audibly sighed, shook his head. “I’m not here to turn you in or anything, pal. Hell if I know what I want with you. Doesn’t look like you have any food to give a bird, that’s for sure,” he says, sizing him up. The threadbare clothes of a mutant, some added items such as the hat and jacket that were rather old looking themselves probably picked up in the trash in his fleeing. In this weather, this early, he doubted the other could find anything all that good to eat in the trash along with his new threads. He’d have to pester Kylan to buy a pastry to share with him later. There was one more moment of staring at the blond mutant he’d found, one more of debate before Muninn shrugged. As much as a bird could shrug. “Look, man, I’m not like you. I’m summoned by someone who is. And he woke me up way too early for this. All he said was to scope out the area, see if we could find any mutants and warn ‘em, help ‘em if we can. You’re the first I’ve seen so far. As far as I know, first Ky has seen too.” Muninn said as he tilted his head across the street where, a bit back, Kylan had stopped walking and taken shelter beneath a tree close to the sidewalk. By all appearances – at least it seemed he hoped it was that way – he was just seeking a temporary reprieve from the rain. If it were Huginn he probably wouldn’t have given away Kylan’s name and presence so easily. Even to another mutant. Would’ve thought of some other way to play this – said he was a mutant himself, or just a spell cast by one he wouldn’t name. But really this is what happens when you expect Muninn to do anything remotely tactical. Obvious by the way he yawned again before he continued, “did you get hurt or something? Seen any others?” Yeah those sounded about right. The sort of questions to be asked if he was trying to ‘help’ refugee mutants. Although he wasn’t about to begin thinking about what he or Kylan could do with any information they did get. This wasn’t exactly an easy situation to be dealt with even with Kylan’s relative degree of mobility. there is a cemetery of words buried beneath your tongue

by worldie for becca

[Ludwig A. Beilschmidt]

baby you're a firestorm you're a loaded cannon

Still crouched warily in the bushes, Ludwig could have sworn that this bird was getting downright exasperated with him, but although he was tempted to defend himself, he bit back his words. He was the one in the vulnerable position right now. Even when the bird claimed to not be interested in turning him in, he chose his response carefully before answering. ”I don’t have any food for a bird. I’m sorry.” Morbidly, Ludwig recalled reading in a book somewhere that ravens ate decaying flesh. He certainly didn’t have any of that available, although if he lingered here for too long, that might absolutely change. The thought made him shiver despite the heat that naturally warmed him from under his own skin. Oblivious to Ludwig’s discomfort, the raven chattered on, explaining its own situation — one that the mutant wasn’t familiar with at all. He didn’t know a Ky, but if the bird were speaking the truth, then Ky had been living on the outside and was looking for ways to help the breakouts. That seemed almost conveniently selfless, and Ludwig felt torn. Half of him desperately wanted to believe he had an unknown friend offering him help, but the generosity sounded too good to be true. ”This Ky… is he your boss? Or your owner?” Ludwig frowned curiously up at the raven, still visibly suspicious, ”Are you a pet, or do you just work with Ky sometimes?” The more information he got, the more he could try to narrow down whether or not to trust the bird and its mysterious master. Still… as uncertain as he felt trusting his own judgement (especially panicked and hiding like he was), Ludwig was leaning towards trust. The bird hadn’t attacked him, after all. It just seemed to want to chat. And it hadn’t drawn any kind of attention… ”Eh?” The next questions caught Ludwig off-guard, and he had to go over them in his thoughts before he could answer. ”I’m not hurt. I’m just trying to figure out where to go.” His expression fell just slightly before he continued, ”I know there are others, but I haven’t seen anyone else. You might be able to get a better view from the air.” That would give the bird something to do, and it would give Ludwig time to hop out of the shrubs and make himself inconspicuous. ”Look… if you want to help me, you can help me find a place to lay low — or at least point me in the right direction,” he blurted out, quiet and urgent. ”I can’t stay here, and the longer we chat, the more chance someone else is going to get caught before you can help them. You and, um, Ky wouldn’t want that, right?” Trust or not, he needed to get moving, and if the bird and this Ky were genuinely offering help, the best thing they could do would be to get Ludwig moving again. Word Count: 505 Tags: Kylan Thomassen Notes: slides back to life

by worldie for lena

[Kylan Thomassen]

Word Count: 370 Tags: Ludwig A. Beilschmidt Notes: sorry it's so short ;;; thought I'd leave it kinda open for ya

N o food. Typical. When had been the last time he ate himself, rather than sleep or quietly sap energy from Kylan? It wasn’t like he could help the latter – but it did rub him the wrong way. He’d prefer to get his nourishment outside of the kid. Especially if they were going to be doing this for a while. Man, how long was this going to go on? How long was he going to be out this time? Shit he had yet to consider that. Muninn hung his head and sighed tiredly at the mere thought of what was probably to come. And honestly, this mutant was not helping. Hadn’t he already said enough for this to be gathered? The bird pecked at the inside of his wing in exasperation. “Kylan is like you, just has more freedom ‘cause he’s useful. I’m – kinda part of his powers. It’s weird and hard to explain in short. And that’s coming from me.” Another yawn. His attention to the severity of the situation was wearing thin. What worry he had held about protecting that particular tidbit of information had been forgotten again already. Bored eyes blinked back to reality. “Look, I’ll fly ahead and see if I can find somewhere deserted or hidden for you to hide longer. If I see someone that might catch you I’ll call – yeah? Nobody gives a shit about bird calls unless they know to look for them anyway.” He ruffled his wings and nestled down into them, shortening his neck some. A last bit of warmth before he went out into the open again he imagined. Geez this guy was already in such a hurry. What a pain. With one last look at the crouching man Muninn flutters out of the bush. To any passerby it might’ve simply looked like a black bird of some variety being spooked by another animal – or simply moving along to find somewhere else to forage for food. Shit – had he told the guy to follow him? And he still had not made certain of his name had he? Muninn rolled his eyes. He could imagine the earful he’d be getting later for how poorly he had gone about this whole deal. there is a cemetery of words buried beneath your tongue

by worldie for becca

[Ludwig A. Beilschmidt]

baby you're a firestorm you're a loaded cannon

If ravens had such a capability, Ludwig knew the bird would be rolling its eyes right now. He wasn’t entirely sure how he knew, but something about the way it ruffled its feathers and shuffled its feet gave off exasperation. If he’d had any doubts, the long-suffering sigh the raven gave a moment later sealed Ludwig’s certainty. He bit his lower lip, feeling close to sorry for all of the apparent trouble he’d caused the raven, and right before he opened his mouth to apologize, the bird spoke up about how his dispatcher had more freedom due to his usefulness. Ludwig hastily banished any apologies from his lips and settled right back into looking sullen. On the bright side, he had a full name now: Kylan. ”It’s fine, then, you don’t have to explain them,” he assured the bird, his tone equally weary now. ”I was only curious.” The bird gave a wide yawn and Ludwig found his patience with the mysterious animal wearing even thinner, when to his surprise, the bird voiced an offer of help. Warily, Ludwig turned the suggestion over in his mind. It could easily be a trap. But after all the bird had said about his… master or owner or whoever Kylan was, the bird seemed to want to get him somewhere at least marginally safer. But before Ludwig could voice an answer, the bird rushed up through the leaves into the open air. Biting back a curse, the mutant glanced furtively left and right before sliding casually out of the bush, shaking off the dirt and doing his best to look like just another early morning jogger as he trotted along the road, one eye on the dark silhouette in the sky. If the bird did find him someplace safe to stay, maybe, he could properly thank him, or find him something to eat. Or… hell, even warm him up a little, if the bird trusted him enough to get closer. To Ludwig, the morning air felt nice, but environmental clues put the temperature far closer to freezing. He was just about to voice his offer when he realized how stupid that would have looked: a man out for a run in filthy thin clothes shouting at a bird in the sky. No. Better to wait until the raven found a place to land again, and until then, he’d keep following him. Yet as he continued to jog, signs of life caught Ludwig’s eyes more and more: cats and dogs being let into yards, people taking out garbage or starting up their cars… he needed someplace proper to hide, and the quicker, the better. ”Hey,” he called out in a stage whisper, attempting to be at least marginally silent. ”Can you see anything yet? I’ll… I’ll find you some food if … you know…” Word Count: 474 Tags: Kylan Thomassen Notes: i am still slow...

by worldie for lena

[Kylan Thomassen]

Word Count: 396 Tags: Ludwig A. Beilschmidt Notes: Muninn is pretty fun to write for no lie lol

B y all means Muninn should have been annoyed or aghast at the supposed stupidity of the mutant for calling up to a bird in the sky, or for appearing to simply talk to nothing. But as it was - he was too used to being spoken to as such by Kylan, especially in the ring. Orders and responses - complaints on Muninn's part - would be thrown around during fights and nobody batted an eye at THAT. This was different though, and Muninn only realized it after he cawed an annoyed, "wait!" just shrill enough that it was mostly hidden amongst the bird sound of it. Most of the annoyance came from feeling pestered the moment he felt a surge of excitement in spying a possibility up ahead. An abandoned warehouse, from the looks of it. Some broken window panes, graffiti on the walls, and the trash littering the sidewalk made it appear empty. Better safe than sorry though, he thought, practically hearing is brother Huginn saying it in his head. "Two blocks up and one right, checking it out first," he says, bobbing down to zip past the mutant before he's heading back up and over. Getting his blood flowing again in flight was helping him think at least a LITTLE bit clearer. He was still tired and hungry though. Maybe he could sleep once he got this guy inside and wait for Kylan. He must not be far behind, judging by Muninn's still completely solid form. What a pain. Some kind of small shipping company headquarters for all the local homes it looked like. Muninn gathered this from the number of conveyer belts and left behind boxes and shipping supplies. There were still two trucks parked at the back. They looked just as decrepit as the building itself though. Windows broken in and seats covered with debris. Coast seemed clear to him, giving it a second fly through before he was out the broken window pane he'd entered through. From there he sat on the sign out front, spread out one wing to peck at it. "It's no palace, but it's empty and the roof is still in good shape. Has some decent couches and chairs still." He says the moment he sees the blond mutant, flies up beside his head to speak with a yawn. "Those trucks are shit though. No luck there." there is a cemetery of words buried beneath your tongue

by worldie for becca