Mine.
Marked.
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Warnings: If you’re still reading this… you
already know.
Pairings: …
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot, and the
various creatures herein (their personalities, that is). I make no money off
this fic.
Author’s Notes: My stupid computer has been
at the fucking shop for ages, which is part of the reason I haven’t updated. I
am also lazy. But it has been a long
while and I apologise for that. I’ll try to be
faster.
Mine.
Chapter
Sixteen – Marked.
It was a weary pair of lawmen that drove
their birds on dragging feet the last hour back to town, desperate to get home,
but at the same time dreading it. The chocobos managed a stumbling trot when
they came within sight of the bleached wooden buildings, and they cooed happily
when Seifer and Squall finally slid out of their saddles. The two men
the little paddock behind the jail.
“I oughtta go
tell his parents…” Seifer said reluctantly.
“Let’s have a drink first,” Squall suggested,
but the blond shook his head.
“We do that and there’ll be a thousand
questions, and we’ll have to tell every man and his dog what happened. You can
bet your arse it won’t stay quiet until I have a chance to go up to the
Squall nodded silently, then asked; “You
want me to come?”
“Naw… I’ll do it.
Don’t worry about it. They would already have heard from Dylan that things
didn’t look good.
Again, Squall nodded, then on impulse,
hugged Seifer tight.
“You did your best, Sheriff. No one can ask
anymore of you.”
Seifer instantly pushed him to arm’s
length, jaw clenching.
“You’ve got to be careful with things like
that, Squall,” he murmured, and when Squall didn’t move, he couldn’t resist
leaning forward to nose at the deputy’s hair.
“Seifer…” Squall warned, pulling gently
away. There was an awkward silence, then he added; “You have to go speak to Eli
and Leanne…”
Seifer looked hard at him for a long
moment, then turned and left the jail without another word. He took one of
their spare chocobos, ignoring Knightly’s jealous
warble.
“You’re too tired,” he said, patting
kicking the other bird into a run.
- - - - - - -
Eli was waiting for him on the veranda when
he arrived, having seen the dust from a long distance away. He saw the look on
Sheriff took his hat off and held it in both hands before him as the rancher
lead him through to the kitchen, where Leanne was just taking a fresh tray of
cookies out of the oven. He glanced around. It looked like she’d been doing a
lot in the kitchen. The shelves were lined with jars of jam and several batches
of cookies were cooling on the benchtop.
“Leanne…” Eli said with a gentleness that
surprised Seifer. “Sheriff’s here.”
She turned, looking drawn and pale, and
came to her husband’s waiting arms, eyes hopeful as she looked at Seifer.
“Tell us straight, Sheriff. You find out
what that savage did with our boy?”
“Dylan told you, then?” he asked.
“Yep,” Eli said shortly.
Seifer sighed, fiddling with the brim of
his hat.
“We don’t know anymore than that. Haven’t
seen hide nor hair of them. Savage laid about twenty
false trails and we didn’t have the supplies to follow each one. By the time we
re-supply and get back up there, all the trails will be gone… I’m sorry…
There’s nothing more I or anyone else can do. Upwards of
thirty savage encampments up in them mountains and the surrounding forest.
We can’t just waltz into every one of them. For starters, they don’t stay
still. It-”
“It’s alright, Sheriff,” Eli cut in,
holding his sobbing wife against his chest. “You don’t gotta
explain to us. You been up there ‘til you nearly starved to death, and one man
already died on account of our boy. You done
Seifer nodded, lowering his eyes, then said
quietly; “If it makes you feel any better, neither the Deputy
or I think he’s been killed.”
Eli nodded, then turned away, making soft,
soothing noises to his wife. Seifer closed his eyes briefly before turning and
quietly leaving.
- - - - - - -
Three days later, they stood again before
the HeartSeer’s teepi, this time without so much
ceremony and so many crowds. They had cleansed themselves together, and come
straight to the teepi before the camp had really begun to wake.
The four muscled braves sat meditating and
the fifth was stirring his pot and he gave them a gentle smile before waving
them inside. Zell held the flap aside to let
fluttering again. He waited for the native to follow, then grabbed his hand
again and calmed slightly at the gentle squeeze he received.
The Seer was nowhere to be seen, but the
Heart waited patiently for them, his blue eyes bright against his dark skin.
They went and knelt before him and
was struck again by his beauty.
“/All that remains is approval of your
Mark, Snake,/” he said in his lilting tones and held out his hand for the
rolled-up skin Zell had guarded so jealously.
the Heart unrolled it and examined it. He heard his taker chuckle at him.
The Heart looked surprised and
with curiosity.
“/Why this?/” he
asked directly of Zell.
“/He’s the god of strength and courage, of
fierce loyalty.
brings out these things in me. I’m stronger than I ever was before, I feel the
courage to face anything, I could never be disloyal to him…/”
The Heart turned the skin to show the Mark.
“/And do you think this appropriate, Wild
Bird?/”
It looked like the ruby dragons he’d seen
pictures of next to products that claimed to made of
their skin, and cost more gil than Eli would make in
three years’ time. It had horns and bat-like wings, and a long tail. Somehow,
the entire creature’s silhouette had been fit into a circle that matched Ahshey
and Krerah’s for size, each line definite against the
pale tan of the skin.
“/I… don’t know what… that is… Is it a
dragon…?/” he asked, glancing at Zell.
“/The King of Dragons,/”
Zell replied. “/Bahamut, god of strength, courage,
loyalty, as I have said./”
to the place where it would go and after a long silence, he nodded.
“/I like it./”
“/As do I,/” the
Heart said with a smile. “/Very well then. The Heart
smiles upon this Marking, and the Seer will abide by the Heart’s decision in
this Marking./”
“/Our thanks,/”
Zell said, and it was heartfelt.
saw the tension drain out of the broad shoulders of his taker. He curled a hand
over one of those shoulders and Zell smiled at him, touching his fingers. They
stood together and
found himself suddenly in Zell’s arms, a warm mouth descending upon his for a
deep kiss.
The Heart chuckled softly.
“/It is takers
like yours, Wild Bird, who make me regret the choice I made when the last Heart
left our world….”
“/You’ve… never…/”
“/Never.
indicating his naked thighs.
“/That’s… I’m
sorry,/”
“/I am not. …Mostly./”
The Heart grinned and waved his hands gently at them. “/Go. You have better
things to do than sit here discussing the sex life of a Shaman. Leave me, now,
and be Marked. I never want to hear of you arguing or
hurting one another, for the Seer will be unbearable if that occurs
“/Thank you again,/”
and, on impulse, bent, pressing a kiss to the Heart’s lips.
The man smiled as
of them left the teepi.
“/You’re so
beautiful, my taken…/” Zell murmured as they went.
shiver that ran up his spine at the tiny stroke. He growled softly and his eyes
spoke fire to
making him shiver in his turn.
The four braves with the tattooist stood as
they approached and
followed Zell’s lead when he bowed low to them.
“/Your Mark?/” the
slender brave murmured, holding out his hand. Zell handed over the scrap of
skin and the tattooist nodded approval. “/Very striking,/”
he allowed. “/Who will go first?/”
“/My taken,/” Zell
said instantly before
could even open his mouth.
“/Very well.
reassuringly and lay him on his back, his head
pillowed in the native’s lap. The four braves took hold of him, one to each
thigh and one to each bicep and he swallowed.
“/You must stay
still, taken. They’ll help you with that. Concentrate on your taker, and the
love you have for him. You bear with the pain of the Marking to demonstrate
what you’re willing to endure for him./”
Zell stroked his hair and he kept his eyes
on the native, but the first prick of the needle seared through his arm anyway.
He twitched. He became more and more glad of the
braves holding him down when the pain became worse and worse. Pin prick upon
pin prick peppered his skin, plunging deep and sure, to mark him forever.
Zell’s face hovered above him, murmuring soothing words, and it dawned on him
that his taker’s facial tattoo must have been excruciating, even had he been
asleep while it was done. He whimpered the needle hit a particularly sensitive
area and Zell bent to kiss his lips upside down. (1)
“/I’m here,
- - - - - - -
It killed him to see his taken in such
pain, but he was proud of the lack of tears and the restrained noises
didn’t thrash or fight the braves’ hold, though it clearly hurt him. He
returned Zell’s kiss, sending sparks up the native’s spine.
It seemed to take an age, and Zell knew it
was worse for him to watch his cowboy endure the pain than it would be when it
came to his turn for the Mark. After all, he had refused the sleep for his
family crest and his Choice. (2)
“/It’s done,/” the
tattooist said after a time, and pressed his fingers to
lips. Good. He was happy, as he should be to have been Marked
by such a taker as Zell. They exchanged places after the tattooist had put
salve on
head in
lap, grinning up at him.
His cowboy didn’t even look mildly
surprised when Zell barely flinched.
- - - - - - -
“/You can do no
more than bake meat?!/” Krerah exclaimed at
front of Ahshey’s teepi some two or three days later.
Their takers were hunting, and it was their turn to cook the night’s meal,
along with three other taken and one switch. The four women were giggling among
themselves and making suggestive comments about Krerah and
Jirrah lay by
side, wafting away every so often to do whatever it was he did, but soon
returning.
“/I never had to before. Ma did it all! I
never even went patch-beast driving when Pa went with Mr. O’Leary
“/Then watch closely,/”
one of the women said, not even bothering to pretend she hadn’t been listening.
“/Your taker won’t stand for a gap in your knowledge like that
“/Well, I wasn’t brought up to be a
taken…/”
muttered and they all giggled. Even Krerah chuckled.
“/You’ll learn soon enough,
Krerah assured him, patting his shoulder.
“/How do you put up with it anyway
muttered. “/Being told what to do all the time?/”
“/We’re taken,/”
one of the women said. “/It’s always been this way./”
“/And our takers
are good to us, and treat us with the adoration due to us for our passive and
ultimately pleasure-giving ways. Though they’re called takers, they don’t only
take. You must know this, Wild Bird,/” one of the
others said.
“/But any taker is free to have any taken,
whether the taken protests or not. I’ve heard it…/”
the other four all showed their teeth in clear disgust.
“/Oora.
never be able to Mark, and all taken he Feathers go straight to the HeartSeer
and have it undone. More, the other takers despise him, and no one will be
surprised if he mysteriously disappears when hunting or the like
“/Takers learn things, as we do. You
believe your taker was just born with the knowledge of how to take a lover
without hurting him? Where to touch you and kiss you, so you relax and allow
him entry? Even how to help you learn to please him? No. He learned from other
takers, during his four seasons before the Choice. More, they do all the
hunting and fighting, while we’re pampered,/” one of
the women said.
“/It’s not so hard to cook every so often
“/Anyway… takers think they have all the
power, but they’re easily manipulated!/” the littlest of the women said, and
they all giggled, even Krerah made a sound suspiciously like one, but that
could have been because Jirrah was pressed to his thighs.
“/Siiara’s right.
Arch your back just right…/” The woman
did so, the strip of material holding her breasts out of the way while she
worked straining dangerously.
“/Whisper his name… Oh, Ferai…/”
Siiara said, half-closing her eyes.
“/Lift your hips!/”
Krerah added, dropping his weight forward on his hands and arching his body so
that his hips lifted, dislodging Jirrah in the process.
“/Moan!/” they all
cried, and threw their heads back so their dark hair cascaded down their backs,
giving a collective “/Ah!/”
“/See?/” Krerah
said, poking
taker tattoo. “/Just a few little things and any taker
is in his or her taken’s hands! Ask the right way,
and you’ll receive./”
“/We have more power than they’d like to
believe,/” Siiara whispered.
“/But don’t tell them we know that
A half hour or so later, a group of taken
and switch came to see what they were doing, flirting shamelessly with the
group around the fire.
asked Krerah softly about it, and the native just chuckled and shrugged – they
all knew it was going nowhere.
“/What’s this then?/”
one of the female taken asked, hanging over
mass that was his attempt at a wheat cake. He flushed.
“/I’m not very good at it,/”
he said softly.
She snickered and stood up, pressing a foot
between his shoulder blades and pushing hard so that his face almost ended up
in the ‘cake’.
“/Evidently,/” she
said, ignoring the growl that gurgled in Jirrah’s
throat.
“/Remove your foot, Vian
That growl, she didn’t ignore. She backed
off a step, but showed her teeth at him.
“/You can’t
protect him for the rest of his life, Krerah. Is he so weak that he cannot fend
for himself?/” she wondered silkily, tossing her head.
“/Leave him,/”
Krerah demanded, crouching slightly and lifting his hands just a little. She
curled her lip, but turned her back and strutted off with the rest of her
group.
oppressive. Finally, Siiara spoke.
“/She’s right, Krerah…/”
“/I know,/” he
replied.
“/Then do something about it
“/What do you
propose I do?!/”
“/Don’t snap at
me. I’m only trying to help./”
“/I’m right here, you know. And I
understand you. I’d prefer if you didn’t discuss me as though I can’t even hear
said lowly.
“/You speak above your place, taken
wish to discuss you as though you can’t even hear, then we may. You have not
yet proven yourself above or even equal to us and therefore, you may sit there
and listen to us discuss you, or leave./”
to Jirrah, blushing hotly more from anger than from anything else. The creature
pressed its head up under his hand.
“/Do you see?/”
Krerah asked him more gently. “/This is what
will come to blows, as it must. But you only need best a strong taken or switch
and you are then put above all those already below that taken or switch. You
can’t be polite,
You have to fight for your honour, or you’ll have
none./”
“/The next taken who speaks badly to you,
don’t back down to,/” Siiara
said.
Again,
while before the next taken spoke badly to him.
- - - - - - -
looking after cows. Digging up the tubers from under a spiked plant the natives
simply called “ouch”. It was an apt name, the cowboy had discovered, since it
was almost impossible to dig them up without the sharp leaves stabbing at his
hands. Thankfully, the job was only done once a month.
He’d decided the best way to deal with it
was to suck on the paper-thin cuts on one hand while he dug with the other,
then switch over every so often. He wasn’t the only one working that way.
As the sun began to set, a pair of feet
appeared beside him and he glanced up to find Nirrin looking down at him.
“/Thank you for all of your hard work today
stood, hoisting his own basket up under his arm and turning towards the camp.
Nirrin sneered at
planted his foot against the cowboy’s shoulder and pushed hard enough to topple
him. Then he crouched over him, fisting a hand in his auburn hair.
“/This is where
you belong, taken. As low as you can get…/” And he pushed
The cowboy snapped. He didn’t care how
strong Nirrin was, his parents had always told him he was something. He wouldn’t let them down by allowing the native to
treat him as though he were nothing.
He gathered himself, finding purchase
against two tufts of grass with his toes. He planted his hands and pushed
upward, sending Nirrin tumbling off his back and springing to his feet.
“/This is where I belong!/”
and threw himself on the other native.
Krerah put his basket down and moved
closer, as did the rest of the taken and switch out harvesting that day.
him, but all he could think about was how angry he was at Nirrin.
The native struggled beneath him, and threw
him off and they both stood, circling. Nirrin crouched low and showed his
teeth, but
didn’t back down. He showed his own teeth and made the first aggressive move,
rushing at Nirrin and kicking out at his legs.
The native just danced back and used
tackle him to the ground. He wrapped his hands around the cowboy’s wrists and
pinned them down.
“/Yield./”
“/Not a chance!/” Irvine snarled and arched
his back then rolled over, sitting up and letting fly with a well-practiced,
saloon-brawl right hook. It connected solidly with Nirrin’s
left eye and he cursed hotly, thrashing beneath the cowboy.
hand against Nirrin’s throat, holding his wrists
above his head.
“/You yield./”
The native spat in his eye and
and snarled. Nirrin fought him, but couldn’t get free, and in the end, he went
limp beneath
“/I yield…/” Nirrin muttered.
Krerah grinned and stepped forward, helping
way of a hand curved over his shoulder. He turned the cowboy and pulled him
into a hug, laughing.
“/Well done,
elegant I’ve seen, but effective nonetheless./”
arms, turning to look at Nirrin who still lay there, shocked. He smirked a
little and stepped daintily over the other taken, bending to retrieve his harvest.
“/Thank you, Nirrin,/”
he said politely, then he and Krerah went back to the camp.
- - - - - - -
The whole camp was abuzz with the news when
Zell and Ahshey returned from their border watch. It didn’t take them long to
discover what had happened and when they did, of course, Zell felt quite
justified in strutting just a little more than usual.
He prowled around the edge of the group of
natives laughing and talking over their meal, watching
conversation with Krerah, gesturing and grinning as he fed Jirrah scraps of
meat. He was quite obviously proud of himself.
Zell was proud of his cowboy as well.
All thoughts of hunger fled from his mind
as he watched lower taken bring food and drink to Krerah and
him with, and how it had changed the red-head’s whole demeanor. Other hungers
overtook him and soon he was stalking further around until he could reach out
and curl his fingers around
waist, drawing him bodily off the log he was sitting on.
Zell and smiled instead, bowing his head in submission. Zell nodded curtly,
“/Zell,/”
little short from the surprise of being grabbed.
“/
their teepi. He lay him instantly on the furs when
they entered and settled over him. “/I heard what you did today
“/Are you mad…?/”
the cowboy asked.
“/Far from it,/”
was the native’s reply, fingers expertly undoing his lover’s loincloth. “/I
knew I had chosen a good taken, a strong
taken./”
“/You chose
well…/”
whispered with a grin, making Zell growl his approval. His taker was learning
well how to please him, and that in itself pleased
him.
- - - - - - -
(1) Again, I re-iterate; I’ve never had a
tattoo, so I don’t know how bad it is. Even so, I imagine compared to the
technology we have, this would be slow, and the needle not nearly as sharp.
Each and every prick would be felt. That’s how I’m looking at it anyways.
(27) Masochist.
- - - - - - -
Author’s Notes: Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!