Feral Phoenix (feral_phoenix) wrote in flightworks,
Feral Phoenix

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[Dill + Carnival] // con10porary

Fandom: Deepgate
Pairing/Characters: Dill+Carnival [claim → main party]
Table: 3
Prompt: picturesque
Rating: PG13/T
Spoilers/Warnings: AU. Profanity (see: Carnival). May be a bit confusing if you don't know who Hasp is (if you haven't read Iron Angel).
Summary: they don't get your soul or your fire.

Summer had just become autumn, and Dill was eleven years old. The morning was chilly, and his father was too busy to keep him company. So he ventured out, savoring the snap in the air, with vague plans to play out on the lawn for a while on his own.

And there was a girl out in the old apple tree.

She was skinny but she looked about Dill’s age, maybe a little older. She had to be a good climber, since she’d apparently shimmied up the tall gnarled trunk and was reaching for the big crotch of the thick lowest branches. She was wearing torn grass-stained jeans and sneakers and a black T-shirt and her hair was black and windblown. But what made Dill unable to tear his eyes away was the pair of charcoal-colored wings folded at her back.

He’d never seen another kid like him before.

So he was trotting over the grass without thinking twice, and he called out excitedly: “Hey—”

She jumped a little and turned down towards him and slipped, losing her hold—and plummeted fifteen feet to the ground with a crunch and a shriek.

“What the fucking hell!”

Dill leaped back at the violence in her shrill yell, then staggered back again as she whipped around to glare at him. Her face was covered in scars, and her eyes were furious black through and through, the irises veined with brief flashes of pink.

“Fucking ow!” she rasped, her voice cracking. “You made me fucking break my fucking ankle!”

A frantic drive to the hospital and a tense hour’s wait there later, all Dill and Gaine Wainwright knew was that her name was Carnival and that if she could just get up, she was going to punch Dill. And that was just for starters.

It was at least another long hour filled with creative profanity before they got a phone number out of her, and half of yet another one before a tall man with a resigned smile and heavy wings entered the room, shrugged, and sighed.

“Hasp Fairstrait,” he offered by way of introduction. “I see you’ve met my lovely niece.”
Tags: claim, con10porary, deepgate codex
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