Jim is probably the Chosen One, judging by the Arthurian -pocket watch gifting him armor he can't walk in and a deadly weapon he has no clue how to use. The magic-y term would be " wield".
How was she supposed to process this?
Without screaming and runnning after him to stop him from doing something unwise. Like, say, immediately seeking to inform Tobes about it. Who wasn't lacking in awesome video games, but always found himself short on sensibility. Toby had a dental appointment, she recalled; no way Jim was getting in to talk to him.
And what kinda conversation could you hold with somebody who had a mouth prop on their jaws, anyway??
Her phone emitted birdsong. She answered his call.
" Yeahhh...sooo...I'm telling Mom."
" Wait! No, no, no, don't do that. Iris, I swear I won't-"
" Impale yourself on your new broadsword? Fall over and break a bone ? Die at the hands of your new best enemies, 'The Angry Adult Antagonists' ? "
" ...Like this was my idea."
" Do yourself a favor and ditch the danger magnet, brother. "
" Pleeeease don't, don't. Tell. Mom."
" Okay. One good reason why not, then."
" Er...I'm not gonna use my anime armor to kick Steve's butt?"
" You'll be too busy counting bruises at Arcadia Oaks Memorial Hospital. "
His voice buzzes into her ear. Soft,frayed like worn rope on the verge of snapping. Raw as a fresh knee- scrape.
Her heart wailed in response, drowning out the voice of reason in her mind.
" You'll stress her out. She can't take this, not on top of her job. I'm not a kid kid, okay? Listen to me, I can handle whatever this is."
" The Choosing of the Chosen One. Behold, the child protagonist whose existing trauma and tragedy, trials and tribulations will soon grow tenfold!! Thought you had it bad, kid? Wellll, you thought wrong, sucker."
Laughter burst out of her mouth. Panicked, petrified, pained.
Heroes never lasted long.
" It's a cookie- sized haunted clock. One that occasionally makes cool armor, and a cool sword to go with it. How bad can it be? Don't do this to Mom. She's overburdened as it is. "
A silvery, antique, cookie clock that did cool stuff that wasn't inherently life- threatening.
Maybe Jim was the one speaking reason.
Iris brushed the black feather off of her nose, stared up at the stars, and slowly exhaled.
Feather...?
A thud made the phone drop out of her hand.
She could still faintly hear his voice.
Her heart leapt and slammed into her ribs, then ceased beating .
Now the silence was different.
You knew something was sharing it with you.
You could not see it,yet you felt its unfriendly eyes...
Iris shrank back into the attic of her imaginative brain, as she continued detachedly narrating the present moment. When scared, or just having anxiety, it helped.
It would not help now,she knew.
Feet tap, tap, tapping on earth and grass. The black shadows fled before a ball of blinding , hot yellow fire, born within a grey hand.
Arm, bandaged. Armored chest gaping toothily at her.
The Lake girl climbed behind her attic's stacks of boxes. Her body remained, too tangible and incapable of emergency teleportation.
Was breathing necessary?
It was very tall. Built like a mountain lion, its hair as red as Vespa paint.
Not a fleshy spot or ounce of fat in sight, all slim arms and strong thighs. A body of skilfully sculpted, hardened clay. Ash- gray skin over well- shaped cheekbones,red face- tattoos.
Red bangs, eyes behind a blindfold.
She sighed in relief and emerged from her Iris- attic. The blind, androgynous witch doctor, illuminated themselves with their clearly magical fire.
They had a staff. Gorgeous red gemstone, much pointier than her little brother's new big sword. Bones and bits dangling, scarlet thread bound around the unidentifiable metal.
Pink, soft lips parted to set loose a snarling wildcat of a voice.
" Where is the Trollhunter?"
" Uh..."
She figured that must be his special Chosen One- title.
Antagonist Number One, riiight on cue.
" O-ojos del Salado," she blurted out, first thing that came to mind.
Like heck would she betray Jim.
They stalked closer. Closer. Poked her chest with the gemstone, posed like a cougar about to strike.
" You are lying. "
" I can prove it?"
They sightlessly eyed her.
"Prove it," they said huskily. And waited.
She kneeled and picked up her phone.
And threw it at their face.
The witch- creature stumbled back in shock, uttering a fiery growl she'd be hearing in her dreams later.
Staff clatters down, hands press on cheek. They sway briefly.
She flees indoors, the door slams shut.
Safe.
...Nope, nope, nope, she realizes when fire teleports the barbarian redhead inside the house, right in front of her.
They laugh. Dark chocolate and coffee and marshmallows all together, aren't as thick as that voice.
She's pinned to the wall.
" When I return, you will tell me."
They smirk hungrily.
She rolled her eyes; sass in the face of danger.
" You'll also get a goodnight kiss. "
They smirk in response .
" A shame , to only get it later."
Her eyes widen.
" If I ..."
" The Trollhunter can live until he is eaten, then. You are certainly desirable. "
" Oh, good. Now he can go find your club members ."
" What-"
Jump.
Face in hands. Darn, those cheekbones.
Really soft hair, too.
Surprise and delight on their beautiful face. Her lips against theirs, growls like flames, their body tensing , their mouth yielding.
They wanted more, she refused to give it, pulling her lips away.
She ran off. Fire crackled and silence, safe silence, followed.
Hopefully, Jim would be okay now.
Iris giggled to herself. Then groaned.
Most insane day of her twenty years of life ....
YOU ARE READING
There Must Be Something More ( Bellroc x Jim Lake's older sister Iris Lake)
Fanfiction(TRIGGER WARNING: An undeserving,rare animal dies a quick untimely death,hunted for sport, offscreen. Poor thing's carcass is featured briefly in third chapter. ) Bellroc x OC Lake sibling. Hematolagnia, Pyrophilia, Olfactophilia. Alpha androgyne...
