OC Oneshots

25

OC: Coulter (he/him)
Species: Human
Universe: Eragon

The pain numbed somewhat in the taverns.

Well, not pain, exactly - but the emptiness that came with losing his dragon.

Glacies… yes, that was her name. He found himself forgetting it sometimes. He blamed the ale. It blurred his mind, made the gap seem smaller. And it made him forget.

He felt that that was the appeal of it to a lot of the people in the tavern.

It was getting to be very late. The exhausted bartender was losing his bright energy. The only patrons who remained at this hour were the ones who had nowhere better to be - the alcoholics, the brokenhearted…

And the grieving.

It had been a year. Any sane person wouldn't still be grieving. But he was starting to believe that he wasn't sane - after all, what sane person would be wasting away their hours in a smoky tavern in some forgotten town along the foothills of the Spine? Especially while he was still being hunted by Galbatorix.

He took another gulp. The ale had long ago lost its flavor to him. He frowned as he realized that it was in fact not liquor that he was drinking. Was his mug empty? It had to be, since he had only downed air. He turned it upside down, proving his theory.

“Boss,” he called, the word slurred. “Another pint.”

“No, that'll be enough for him,” a stern voice interrupted as the man behind the counter reached for his mug.

He looked up. It was a blurry shape, but he thought it was a woman. Were… were women supposed to have horns?

He felt a firm hand grab his arm and pull it over a shoulder.

“No…” he mumbled. “Put me down.”

He thought he saw the girl put a few coins on the counter. Then she half-supported, half-dragged, half-carried him out.

Half… wait. Three halves didn't equal one.

She set him down just outside the tavern and handed him what seemed to be a canteen. “Here,” she said. “Drink this.”

He stared at it suspiciously. “You're from that army, aren't you?”

She shook her head. Were there two canteens before? Or was he seeing double?

“I'm not in any army,” she said. “I'm trying to help you. It's not poisoned.”

“Say it in the ancient language,” he mumbled, out of habit.

“I don't- I don't know the ancient language. I'm sorry.” She kept a firm hold on his upper arm and offered the canteen again. What kind of elf didn't know the ancient language?

He clumsily took a prod at her mind. He couldn't bypass her mental walls. He felt her consciousness shift as she noticed his presence.

Reluctantly, he took a sip.

Immediately, his vision cleared. The fog in his mind dissipated, leaving that gap, that horrible emptiness. His stomach churned. His head pounded. It was like he'd skipped ahead to the hangover phase.

“Are you sober now?” she asked. Her voice was gentle, as if she was speaking to a lost child.

He studied her under a new light. Her ears were the first thing he noticed - large and pointed.

An elf.

He hadn't seen an elf in a long time.

But she did have horns, which last he checked wasn't common among elves. Maybe the alcohol had messed with his mind more than he intended, but she had already taken that canteen of strange sobering… potion away.

“Sure,” he said slowly. “What do you want?”

The elf stood and extended a long-fingered hand to pull him to his feet. “Like I said,” she replied. “To help you. My name is Miriam.”

“Coulter,” he said, bewildered. He let her help him up. “How did you-”

“You lost a close friend of yours recently, didn't you?”

It didn't really seem like a question.

Coulter looked away. He started to say that it was none of her business, but the words wouldn't leave his lips. Some instinct told him that she was worthy of his trust.

And if there was anything Coulter had learned from Glacies, it was to follow his instincts.

“Yes,” he admitted, although she was more than just a close friend. She had given him a taste of seeing beyond himself, an alternate perspective, and that of a dragon, no less. Calling her a ‘close friend' would be an understatement.

Miriam nodded, her expression somber. With some difficulty, Coulter once again reached out with his consciousness and found her mind still well-guarded. He wouldn't be able to discern her intentions without her notice. Most elves were like that, but it was worth a try.

Miriam’s gaze grew distant. “I came here to investigate the sudden genocide of an entire race from your world,” she said, as if other worlds existed. “I found it's not a threat to the world itself… just a part of the story.”

Coulter wasn't sure whether she was even talking to him anymore. Part of the story? Was this war just a story to her? Was the looming threat of an evil king just a tale to be told to children before bed?

“Sorry,” Miriam said quickly. “I just heard about your friend who passed and your situation through a few sources. I was going to ask if you'd like to help me with something.”

“I thought you were helping me,” Coulter said stiffly.

Miriam smiled sadly. “Sometimes helping others is the best way to help yourself.”

Coulter thought about that.

“What are you suggesting?” he asked finally.

Suddenly, Miriam seemed full of energy. “I'll show you,” she beamed. She pulled out a glass prism and held it up to the sky. It made a rainbow on the ground, forming what appeared to be a tear in reality.

Coulter took a step backward. “What in the…”

He knew that nearly anything was possible with the ancient language. But what was this magic, that she could create a portal with a rainbow?

Miriam glanced at him. “It leads to a… sanctuary, of sorts. A safe place. I promise, I'll explain everything. But you have to see it first.”

Waving him to follow, she stepped through the… rift? Portal? Mind-boggling distortion of nature?

Coulter couldn't reach into her mind. He couldn't trust her. He couldn't figure out what she wanted from him. There was a large chance she was from Galbatorix, some freak that he created to do his dirty work.

But curiosity got the best of him, just as it had when he touched that dragon egg all those years ago.

Coulter hesitantly stuck an arm into the multicolored light. Nothing on the other side cut his hand off, so he figured it was safe to enter.

So he squeezed his hands into fists and took a tentative step forward. Instantly, the tavern, the street, the Spine - everything dissolved into an iridescent glow.