August
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
52
Views:
36,409
Reviews:
358
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
52
Views:
36,409
Reviews:
358
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
July 3
July 3
In the morning, a package arrived via messenger. It was heavy, cumbersome, and swaddled up in torn linens. Henrik pawed through the shreds of cloth impatiently, wanting only to get inside. Anthony arrived from his study, joining Henrik in the hallway. The messengers waited, anxiously, to be paid.
Beneath the linens was a silver box, ornately decorated and carved, measuring almost an arm's length. Henrik hesitated, knowing already what was inside. But it would have to be opened; they had to know for sure. Anthony could not look away; he was transfixed by the long silver box. Henrik lifted the lid; right away, he shut it.
Anthony made a sound of anguish, and ran his hands over his head. Anders had come down the stairs, and was and standing by, watching. Henrik looked up at him and saw his son's shoulders sag, just the slightest bit. So he, too, knew.
Henrik paid the messengers and gestured that they should go.
~
"So it was a box?" Phidias asked carefully, trying to follow but feeling two steps behind. Being an anthropologist, he was aware of the power of items sometimes - fetishes, lucky charms, representative objects. But this one he couldn't fathom. "Well, what was in the box?"
Henrik was staring out across their balcony, into the darkness.
"Ghali's blood. On a sheet."
Phidias felt a chill go through him.
"Someone's sending you a message." Henrik nodded. Phidias' skin prickled. "They're telling you that they killed him?"
Henrik shook his head.
"No. Thankfully." Henrik blinked; Phidias caught the flicker of motion across the dim patio. "The blood is telling us, 'We have your carrier.' And the wedding box is telling us, 'And you won't get him back.'"
~:~
They were deploying a special team today; no decisions had been made yet, the representatives assured Will Mackenzie. Nothing was certain, but the higher-ups wanted more intel, and so they were deploying a special team to go and investigate the rest of Dothan.
Slowly, Will Mackenzie was beginning to understand. He had been downgraded, he noticed, from speaking with the decision-makers themselves to speaking with their representatives. The laboratory he worked in had been cut by two staff. The people he spoke to smiled more and told him less.
He was being put aside.
There must be another offer on the table.
~:~
In the morning, a package arrived via messenger. It was heavy, cumbersome, and swaddled up in torn linens. Henrik pawed through the shreds of cloth impatiently, wanting only to get inside. Anthony arrived from his study, joining Henrik in the hallway. The messengers waited, anxiously, to be paid.
Beneath the linens was a silver box, ornately decorated and carved, measuring almost an arm's length. Henrik hesitated, knowing already what was inside. But it would have to be opened; they had to know for sure. Anthony could not look away; he was transfixed by the long silver box. Henrik lifted the lid; right away, he shut it.
Anthony made a sound of anguish, and ran his hands over his head. Anders had come down the stairs, and was and standing by, watching. Henrik looked up at him and saw his son's shoulders sag, just the slightest bit. So he, too, knew.
Henrik paid the messengers and gestured that they should go.
~
"So it was a box?" Phidias asked carefully, trying to follow but feeling two steps behind. Being an anthropologist, he was aware of the power of items sometimes - fetishes, lucky charms, representative objects. But this one he couldn't fathom. "Well, what was in the box?"
Henrik was staring out across their balcony, into the darkness.
"Ghali's blood. On a sheet."
Phidias felt a chill go through him.
"Someone's sending you a message." Henrik nodded. Phidias' skin prickled. "They're telling you that they killed him?"
Henrik shook his head.
"No. Thankfully." Henrik blinked; Phidias caught the flicker of motion across the dim patio. "The blood is telling us, 'We have your carrier.' And the wedding box is telling us, 'And you won't get him back.'"
~:~
They were deploying a special team today; no decisions had been made yet, the representatives assured Will Mackenzie. Nothing was certain, but the higher-ups wanted more intel, and so they were deploying a special team to go and investigate the rest of Dothan.
Slowly, Will Mackenzie was beginning to understand. He had been downgraded, he noticed, from speaking with the decision-makers themselves to speaking with their representatives. The laboratory he worked in had been cut by two staff. The people he spoke to smiled more and told him less.
He was being put aside.
There must be another offer on the table.
~:~