[Can’t Opt Out]

“What’s wrong?”

Zavriel hesitated, wanting to get moving again but unable to make his feet move, something pulling him in another direction.

It hadn’t escaped his notice, of course, that by sticking with their new group as they travelled with Olivier, seeking to get to that innocent little boy, that he was leaving his original mission behind. There was a man out there, dying of olthagri, who needed him. Zavriel had been sent by his prince to try and help that man, and while he had only the vaguest of confidence that he would succeed in curing the man, Zavriel knew he was the only one with any chance of helping him, and he was heading in the wrong direction. It hadn’t been until this moment, however, that he had felt like he needed to turn back.

The aether bubbled—ruptured, far off in the distance. Heat and fire sizzled through the aether, and Zavriel couldn’t feel it, but he could feel it all the same. A monstrously powerful woman who had yet to even touch upon the true echo of her gift, spreading heat around herself because she needed to protect herself and another innocent soul, but they were attracting attention.

It wouldn’t be long before the source of this city’s corruption was there—the home the benefactor had made for itself. A chance was coming to snuff out an anchor, and they needed to be there—they, and more, the aether pulling tugging, and they needed to go.

They needed to go, and—

“I want to go with them,” a small voice called, soft and sleepy. “I need to—I need to go with them,” Porsq said, Zavriel’s eyes finally managing to pull away from the path they needed to head back down—and quickly—to the little boy who had fallen asleep in Olivier’s arms.

The Baalphorian—a lawyer, the aether provided, a million stories of the good he would do in the world sliding through his mind but now wasn’t the time to be filled with wonder for this soft-hearted man who so often covered himself in ice because he was awkward and unsure of himself in anything but a courtroom—had finally stopped moving through the streets, intent to get to Xavier’s location as quickly as possible. Zavriel had the distinct impression that, as long as he was conscious, nothing would stop him from trying to get to that little boy. He would claw his way across the ground, tearing his nails out—move centimetres an hour, scraping himself bloody, all because he would never want to leave that boy he had promised to protect alone with a predator.

Olivier gazed down at Porsq, the boy pushing himself free of the man’s neck, where he had napped and then pretended to nap, exhausted and in need of the physical comfort and afraid of the words that might—that wouldn’t—come in reprimand for his earlier behaviour. As someone with a similar ability to force things into people’s minds and bodies… Zavriel wasn’t about to poke around with any of that.

“Porsq…” the man breathed out, his mouth drawn in a tight, unhappy line.

The preteen shook his head, wiped at his eyes. “It’s important—Zavriel, he…” The boy trailed off, his eyes sliding to Zavriel because the child was powerful—so powerful and in need of protection. No one here—not the boy himself nor the crime lord nor Zavriel himself—truly understood how much power he held within himself. The child was more powerful than any of them knew—more powerful than any of them may know until he was fully grown, the aether’s mind zipped up tight on what sort of things the child’s ability to reach and mutilate minds might one day be capable of.

Bright-blue eyes, stunning in their innocent intensity, met Zavriel’s, an understanding flowing there: just as Zavriel wasn’t sharing his knowledge of the boy’s abilities with anyone, neither would Porsq share what he could feel of Zavriel’s abilities. Hence, they were at a bit of a standstill.

Zavriel knew Porsq’s presence wherever the aether was dragging him would be… not imperative, but certainly, it would increase their chances of success. Both of them knew that neither Olivier nor Gëon were likely to let them go easily.

“I just…” Porsq tried to say, gazing back into Olivier’s eyes, and Zavriel felt struck through his soul. For how little time the two had spent together, there was true love there. Both would die for the other, he realized, and how had the Baalphorian man managed to catch the child’s heart so fast? Actually, better question: how had he managed to spark a fire of love for a boy he barely knew within himself so quickly he would drag Porsq’s affection along as well, sparking just as painfully bright a flame of love within the boy’s small body?

“I just need to go? Can you trust me? I NEED to go,” he said, and it was on the tip of Zavriel’s tongue to offer something of his abilities to the rest of the group. What exactly he would say, Zavriel had no idea.

While it was clear the crime lord knew at least something of his abilities, Zavriel doubted the man knew much of them—vague murmurs and rumours, perhaps, Gëon’s childhood a stealthy, slippery thing that Zavriel couldn’t catch hold of, but that had been spent in the Cyrenix Desert at the least. Stories of the majenstra slipped through the sands and the myths of those lands. Where the ryohua of Dion were rarely spoken of, when their name found purchase on tongues and within stories, they were treated as monsters that should not be spoken of. The majenstra were treated like myths—fabrications, impossibilities.

Gëon, however, seemed to believe, although it was unclear how much the man believed. Enough that between Zavriel’s reactions to certain things and Porsq’s reactions to whatever was flooding through his mind, the man had come to view at least something of those myths as truths.

“I will go, too.”

The eyes of everyone shifted to the small child who accompanied Gëon, curled up in Levi’s arms. They were cute, but monstrous—the aether was clear on the fact that this child was a devarín, although it didn’t seem either Gëon or the child knew that. The aether, bitch that it so often was, had given Zavriel the barest of information on what a devarín was—dangerous, mostly—and also…

“They should come,” Porsq said, eyes sliding between Gëon and Zavriel, having gleaned something between their thoughts, perhaps? “You told them to stay clear of that doll, right? I think… I think they shouldn’t get anywhere near it?”

Gëon—who had stepped even closer to Levi than he had already been—brushed his fingers over the hood of the child, who had never been formally introduced, the man himself only ever calling them his little shadow. With their dark cloak that billowed around them with every step, as though caught in the waves of the aether, the child certainly seemed a shadow.

For a long moment, the man and Porsq, each capable of feeling each other out in completely unique and yet entwined ways, gazed into each other’s eyes. Both of their eyes were beautiful, Zavriel suddenly realized—the Baalphorian man’s as well, with their dual tones. Deep circles edged under them, a testament to how much had happened to him in the last few hours.

The least he could do before he left—because Zavriel knew that, whether he left alone or with the entire group, he was leaving—was give the man a boost of energy.

Olivier’s eyes flicked his way as Zavriel forced his abilities through the man, making his body and brain forget they had ever been tired. There was an urge within him to see if he could make the aether that surrounded the man like a shield forget it had been touched by the glittery aether that had been splattered over him. It was an important mark, however—something that would be needed by his friend, or so said the aether, so he resisted.

“One day,” the aether seemed to whisper, dragging his attention to Porsq as well. The boy’s eyes finally shifted away from Gëon, whatever standoff the pair has been having falling away as the crime lord let Levi hand his little shadow over before beginning to whisper to them—telling them that, if things became too dangerous, they were to grab Porsq and leave.

“Get out of the city, if things go badly. I will message Orexi and tell him to leave through the route we usually take, and to call a few other people to go to the other, less-used routes,” he told them, Zavriel’s mind forgetting he was too far away to hear the words. Quietly, the man turned to Levi, asking if he had a way of showing him where their group had entered the cave system.

“Sure? I can make a map of sorts and project it for you? Or create a paper version—but maybe it’s not a great idea to give it physical form?”

Nodding, Gëon told his little shadow and Porsq to stick with Zavriel himself and Mikhail—as well as any adults Porsq deemed trustworthy—if they could. “I will send Orexi details of the map, and have him arrange for people to be at that exit as well,” he promised, pulling his little shadow to him, Zavriel very much feeling like he was spying on a private moment now, the man’s forehead pressing to the child’s in a way that was sweet and loving—parental, almost, although the pair were nothing buy souls, entwined together.

“What about everyone else?” the little shadow asked, a collection of faces sliding through Zavriel, and fuck.

Fuck! Why were there so many Lüshanians they needed to get out of this city!?

“There are more in the other holding cells as well,” Porsq said, pulling his own forehead away from the kiss Olivier had been pressing there for a while, as though urging as much love and devotion into the boy’s small body as he could. “We shouldn’t try to get them out,” he added, a warble in his voice, his lip, even as everyone accepted that he was speaking the truth. Fräthk had too many strongholds, and to risk themselves trying to free more people as the city fell into chaos might very well cost their lives.

In the end, they needed to get themselves and those they were already responsible for out. Everyone else… it sucked, but there wasn’t much they could do for them.

There was refusing to leave anyone behind, and then there was risking all their lives for people who might not even want their help.

“I will arrange for them to try and get out of the city,” Gëon told his little shadow, Porsq not covering his flinch well enough. Olivier noticed it—this little proof that the man was likely lying to the child, or perhaps knew that any attempt to get more people out of the city would be a lost cause—but with Porsq located behind the small child, their eyes glued to Gëon, Zavriel didn’t think they noticed.

“I will see you again,” Olivier promised Porsq, sounding sure of himself even when there was no way he was. Zavriel had a feeling that the only reason the Baalphorian was letting the preteen go was because he had felt Zavriel’s abilities multiple times and knew that something with them was strange.

That, and possibly the fact that young or not, Porsq as by far the most dangerous being in this city—

A shot of a vision rippled through him—something he couldn’t find words to explain but that left him with the distinct impression that so many viciously dangerous people were currently within Falmíer that, were the ceiling to collapse upon them this very moment, the universe itself would weep, for its death would become a sealed fate.

Porsq’s head titled in his direction, eyebrows pulling together, frown pulling at his tired face and Zavriel could distract himself from whatever the fuck that had just been—and fuck the aether for plopping so much vague information into his head!—by pushing his abilities through Porsq, the boy insisting to Olivier that he would be safe with Zavie’buran.

Zavriel had no idea when he had been upgraded into being a man who was allowed such a title—sometime in the last few minutes, apparently—but okay? The kid was cute, so whatever?

“I can take him,” Mikhail offered, stepping up to accept Porsq into his arms, and it was nice that Mikhail had decided without prompting that the two of them were sticking together? Zavriel hadn’t much liked the idea of watching two children—two traumatized and terrifyingly powerful children, no less—all by himself! He was not particularly experienced with kids—wasn’t even sure he liked them, to be honest? In no way was he looking forward to becoming a babysitter, temporary or not.

Zavriel could tell that both Gëon and Olivier wanted more time with the children they both clearly cared for, but all of them knew they were on a tight timeline.

“Take care of him for me,” Olivier said, handing an awkward looking Porsq over to Mikhail. While Zavriel had pushed the boy’s small body to forget its fatigue as well, they would be able to move faster if he and Mikhail carried the children, Gëon hoisting his little child up and handing them to a taller Zavriel as well, the kid’s too-small arms light around his neck. Whereas Olivier was soft and worried as he gave his precious cargo to Mikhail, Zavriel felt like Gëon would slit his throat if anything happened to his own terrifying child!

“I will,” Mikhail promised, smiling wide at the older man before turning his smile on Porsq. “I think you’ll do a better job of protecting me, though? Hm?” he asked, no annoyance or upset with the boy for forcing his hand remaining within him—assuming it had ever found a home within him to begin with.

Mikhail, for as much as he could speak without thinking, his mind feeling like something of a child who had yet to grasp the details of the world, was so kind and sweet. They would be good friends, Zavriel thought as they began to move, their groups diverging on different paths, Mikhail and Porsq: one man who would never hold fear within his heart for the small boy in his arms, one boy who was so used to being feared by everyone his abilities could touch.

Details of Mikhail’s abilities wound their way through Zavriel’s mind, their steps speeding up as Porsq’s abilities began to spiral outwards, connecting to minds and confirming that they weren’t about to be caught by someone intent to kill him. While Zavriel wasn’t positive that the irregular deviation he was thinking of—knowledge he had acquired the old-fashioned way, rather than some bit of fact forced into him by the aether—was the thing making Mikhail so special, he thought it a good possibility.

If he was correct… then, to say that, were Mikhail able to master his abilities, he would be the perfect friend for Porsq—the perfect counter, should darkness every manage to sink its claws into the boy—was an understatement.

Zavriel’s heart clenched as the reality of what the world would become, should Porsq became a creature of madness, cracked through him, there and gone—a message from the aether that they couldn’t let the boy be corrupted, no matter what.

Thankfully, with his abilities extended so far around them, Zavriel didn’t think the boy had felt anything of what he’d just seen, and after a moment of hesitation, Zavriel exerted his powers onto himself, forcing himself to forget everything but the reality that this boy needed to be loved and protected and cared for, no matter what.