CAHprompt: The Gays™ + Being A Motherfucking Sorcerer
Oliver stared at the top half of the sun as it sunk beneath the edge of the horizon. From where he stood, he could just make out the masts of the half dozen ships coming into the bay. The fastest ship led the fleet, a rainbow flag fluttering in the breeze.
There, he knew, would be Elliotte.
The impatience that had filled him the past two weeks took over. Oliver snapped his fingers before uttering several Gaelic words in a guttural voice.
“Yes?” Elliotte’s voice was static in his ear, but Oliver smiled. The closer Elliotte’s ship drew, the stronger the magical communication would become. The wards around their island didn’t allow the signal to extend very far, and Oliver hadn’t heard Elliot’s voice in over two weeks.
“You got it?” Oliver was hopeful but not nearly as concerned as before. He knew El had made it, that his love was finally home safe. If the other man happened to have the artifact with him, that was just icing on the cake.
“You couldn’t wait ten minutes to find out?” El asked, voice muffled. Though his words were irritable, Oliver could hear the smile in them.
“Screw the artifact,” Oliver replied.
His eyes were still glued to the masts of the ships coasting towards the shimmering blue of the wards. The sun’s descent was rapid, setting on the last day either of them would have to be on this dreadful planet.
“I missed you too.” Elliotte said. He sounded clearer now, and the better their signal became the better Oliver felt. The resistance was still in danger. They always would be, until they could leave the island, and this world, behind forever. “And yes, I did retrieve it. Hell of a quest to send me on, but I managed it.”
“I always knew you would,” Oliver murmured. It wasn’t true. The night the council had chosen Elliotte to make the dash towards the well-protected sphere was the night Oliver’s heart died. Though he was certain El would be doomed, Oliver had never once shown his doubts. He’d only requested to join the questing crew as well, hoping to spend those few short weeks together before the end.
He’d been denied, however. Elliotte had a duty to locate their last chance of survival, and Oliver had a duty to protect those who stayed behind. They all had their roles to play.
“Listen-” El began to say, but a shout erupted in the background and he cut off. “Dammit. Get the wind up now! No, I don’t care about the rest of it. Throw it over! Get us behind that ward or we’re all dead!”
“El!” Oliver screamed. He watched as, almost from nowhere, a dark cloud began to form in front of the sun.
“Go!” Elliotte ordered someone.
“Fucking stop them!”
“Captain, I can’t hold the course.”
“Take the artifact,” Elliotte demanded of someone else. “I’ll slow them down.”
“No.” Oliver’s worst nightmare unfolded before his eyes and he shouted again, horrified. “No!”
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The Phobes were coming, and they had all the vast power of a dark hatred that no one could outrun. They’d released their “purification” mist and sent it right at the ships that held his beloved. If it managed to reach them, there was no hope left for anyone.
“Oliver, I’m sorry,” Elliotte whispered.
Then the magic cut off. It snapped like a rubber band and sparked against Oliver’s ear. He jumped and his hand flew up to slap at the sizzle. Before the reason for the disconnect could even register he was on the move. His hands waved in the air, his lips moved a mile a minute, and he almost screamed as he watched the wards move inch by inch towards the ships. Half of the first ship made it past the wards before the mist overtook the fleet.
A broken sob slipped from Oliver’s lips as he watched all but half of one ship disintegrate. El was a fighter, and he wasn’t about to let the rest of his men go down with the ship unless he went down fighting by their side. There was no way, no chance that Elliotte was on the front part of that first ship. Even if he was, the artifact wouldn’t be with him.
Still, Oliver cast the communication charm again.
“Please.” He whispered as he worked to bring it back up. “Please, please El.”
Behind him, a wail began to rise from the city. There were several men and women who had cast a soul-binding before their loved ones left. Those who cried out would now see the world in black and white, would know without being told that their husbands and wives were dead.
Oliver hadn’t wanted to do the spell, though El had asked him right before he was summoned for the mission. Regret and relief filled him. He didn’t know for certain, there was no finality for him. For Oliver, there was still hope.
“El,” Oliver begged. “Please don’t do this.”
“Ol-” The sound was a garbled whisper in his ear, but that was all it took before Oliver was in the water and swimming towards the edge of the wards. The sounds that reached him were more like drowning than words, and Oliver would not lose Elliotte to poor swimming skills after everything they’d already faced.
As he swam, Oliver promised himself that he would get the other man to shore. He put all he had into his strokes, beating the water with fury. As soon as Elliotte was done drowning Oliver was going to agree to cast that damn soul-binding spell. His arms aching from his fight against the tides, but still he swam. Once that spell was in place, Oliver would make certain he never saw the world in black and white, no matter what. He was a motherfucking sorcerer, after all.
Finding the water soaked captain struggling to stay above the water wasn’t hard with the communication spell still buzzing in his ear. He followed the feedback loop until he saw the flailing arms and then it was all a matter of magic to get them on dry land again.
Not that the magic was made easier by the mouthfuls of water garbling his spells, but he had Elliotte in his arms. They’d always done things better when they were together.
Laying in the sand, breathing hard and heart beating, Oliver felt a flood of relief to know that Elliotte had made it when so many others hadn’t. Men and woman were circled around, rushing to help others in the water or standing back far enough that they wouldn’t have to see face those who had survived. They would be the ones who already knew there was no hope for them. The ones who had lost the power to see the world in color.
Oliver ignored them all, rolling over to casting a diagnosis charm to ensure that his beloved would survive the near-death experience. With careful hands and concentration all of Elliotte’s burns and cuts faded, a steady heartbeat tapped out, and through it all Oliver continued to cast.
“Ollie,” El said, and at first Oliver didn’t hear him. Then the words echoed in the communication charm and he looked up at Elliotte’s face. The charm snapped again as it was cut off and the next word resounded only due to how serious Elliotte was. “Enough.”
The dark haired man struggled to sit up. He pushed his wet hair from his face and a trail of sand ended up streaked across his forehead.
“Elliotte.” A gruff voice called out. The large man that lumbered up to them had a concerned crease in his brow and arms folded across his chest. Beside him stood a tall blonde woman who walked like a ballerina.
“Malcolm,” Elliott’s voice was hoarse. Before Malcolm could ask, Elliotte slid his hand into his soaking wet capris shorts and drew out a metal orb with blue lines etched into the shining steel surface. “We got it.”
“At great cost,” Malcolm replied, his voice echoing the sadness that those behind him must be feeling. He reached down and took the orb from Elliott. Raising it, he spoke loud enough for the whole island to hear. “Those who sacrificed will not be forgotten. We will follow the dream they fought for. We will escape into a new land and we will take magic with us. Gather your essentials, the migration begins at midnight.”
After that, it was a blur of magic and movement as everyone raced to gather the things and the people they could not bear to leave behind. For Oliver, he remained by Elliotte’s side and gathered nothing. They were taking magic with them, and besides that, the only thing he would ever need was the other man.
“Ready?” Elliotte asked as they reached the front of the line where the portal stood open. Their fingers twined as they faced the doorway that showed a forest on the other side. Oliver nodded. He did not look back. He did not care what they were leaving behind. As soon as the entire settlement was through the portal they ripped between their reality and an empty world in another, the orb would be brought through.
Without the orb, this reality would falter. The universe would fail. The inevitable heat death would take out all who remained. And it wouldn’t matter. Oliver and Elliotte would have a new life, a life free of the hateful and rotting society that had driven them to destroy everything they’d once loved. They wouldn’t waste a thought on this universe once they’d gone through. They would build a home in the trees and cast the soul-binding ritual and forget the terrible tragedies they had faced.
Finally, they would have a world of their own.
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