deercountry | [closed]

[ Yuri wakes up groggy and confused, his arms aching from where they're pulled over his head, cuffs digging into his wrists. This feels all to familiar, in a way he doesn't like. It wasn't so long ago that he woke up tied up and jailed on a ship. At least right now it doesn't feel like the floor is moving, but that doesn't actually make him feel any better, because he can hear what sound like gears and mechanisms, and that can't be good. How many times will he find himself behind bars? He hoped no more, but he doesn't get what he wants, does he?

The last thing he remembers is going to sleep with Flynn after some stupid argument about nothing. He's felt something weighing on him, a lot like he felt after Flynn died. Things should be better, Flynn is alive, they have a home, they have a quiet life with Blue, he has a job he actually mostly likes. He should feel better, but he's felt worse and worse since the month turned over, and now here he is, strung up in some unknown place.

He tries to pull on the chain pulling his arms overhead, but it barely budges. At least his feet touches the floor, and he can stand up, taking the strain off his arm. As he does, he sees someone else in this cell with him. ]

Flynn?!

[ Yuri doesn't have a sense of how long it's been since Flynn was ferried out of this awful place by... whatever that was. He's not angry about it. He's glad Flynn is safe. He hopes Flynn is safe. That's one of the only things he's letting himself focus on. Flynn, safe, is what he thinks when he wakes up from his woozy, half-dreaming state, where most of the dreams are nightmares, nightmares of those terrible people, coming to check on his blood, it's always the damn blood in this place; of his guild, his friends, of losing them, like he almost did in the frosts, of losing Estelle to Alexei, again; of losing Flynn, of Flynn turning away from him like he almost did, in Mantaic.

The dreams, as awful as they are, might be better than his reality. He can't move, body prone, shackled to a table, his blood being taken, slowly, slow enough that he figures they intend to keep him alive for a while, long enough to get as much as they can from him. He hasn't eaten in days, even though they give him water every once in a while. He tries to fight back, every time those guys come by to check on him, but he can't do anything but cuss them out, his wrists, neck, waist, and ankles raw from pulling at the restraints. ]

You wouldn't last five minutes in a fight! Come on, face me.

[ Yuri snaps at one of them, his voice hoarse, throat aching. The zealot doesn't seem to notice or care, carefully collecting his frozen blood from the table. It barely even flows, leaves him in icicles that build up out of the shallow cuts carved into his arms, his stomach, his thighs. He thought he was cold with his blood in his body, but with it dripping down the table, he doesn't think he's ever been this cold in his whole life.

He lets out a frustrated scream, mostly for himself, because he hates being helpless more than he hates almost anything else in the world. ]

[ Bare moments after Flynn is swept away, and Yuri is left in this stark, awful place, two of those strange people in culty robes come upon him. He has some of his power back, but no sword, no axe, no nothing. He feels naked without it, without armor or the leather glove he wears around his hand.

He looks at them, coming too close for comfort, throws a punch at one of them, a kick at the other, then books it. The kick, at least, connects, and the guy tries to grab Yuri's leg, but he shakes his off as he runs down the hall.

He has no plan, no plan at all except to get away from these guys for long enough to make a plan. Except, he's tired and fear is curling in his gut and Flynn is gone and he's alone, and those culty guys are running after him.

Sure would be nice if someone came upon him at this very moment to help. ]

[ Finally, after he doesn't know how many days, Yuri is free of that awful place. He and Kaeya found a way out, made a sacrifice, and that was the last he saw of his friend. He has faith, though, that he got out, too. There's no reason Yuri would be here and Kaeya wouldn't.

He's exhausted, wrung out, the adrenalin leeching out of him as he slumps, shivering and exhausted, against a wall. He's somewhere in Trench. He has no idea where. He's still in the jumpsuit he'd been put in, the front still open down to his navel, but he doesn't have the energy to do it up at all, not even for warmth.

He needs to get home. Home to see if Flynn is there, to make sure that Flynn got out, somehow. That he's not still stuck in that awful place.

Warmth blossoms in his chest and Smokey appears out of smoke with a loud caw, stretching his arms and growing bigger, bigger until he can land in front of Yuri and Yuri can scramble onto his back. It's weird, him being so big, but he isn't going to question it now.

It takes what strength he has left to hold on, his arms locked around Smokey's neck, as the giant kestrel takes off into the frigid night air.

He's nearly frozen by the time they touch down in the front yard of their little cottage. Smokey caws again, softer now, to tell him to let go, and he does, but his arms are stiff and tired. He staggers a little, and Smokey noses under him to keep him up, and he wonders vaguely if this is how Blue feels all the time as he shuffles slowly to the front door.

It's locked. Of course it is. Flynn always locked the door (Flynn is probably here, probably okay, unless Blue learned too many of his habits). Letting out a sigh, he reaches up as best he can and knocks. ]

flynn

kaeya

lysithea

flynn pt. 2