I haven't read HDM in years, but aaaaaa. I tried. -------------------------
The homeless dogs scatter as when you run past, shoes echoing off the cobble stones and Jake on your heels. It's way past curfew and you've got a timetable to keep, back alleys to snake your way through to the college on the other side of town where the ancient and infamous head of the Betty Crocker corporation herself is making an appearance. Jane's already there, although the Crocker granddaughter not appearing would be rampant gossip tabloid fodder, and none of you dare risk it, despite the rumors and ghost stories the urchin kids tell that BCC is brainwashing children and spiriting them away. Maybe to be eaten.
Something's going down. Something your brother talked circles around in the first letter you'd gotten from him in ten years. Something to do with the research Jake's grandmother was doing and the visions Roxy's absent mother has been having since she was your age.
You're not supposed to be out and tracking your way through the city to this forbidden reception. Dave Strider himself told you to stay your ass put. Like you were going to listen to him. You've never even seen him with your own eyes, and he's finally in town for the first time in your life? You take a certain relish in ignoring his plans for you and implementing your own.
You skate to a stop at the intersection of an alley, one hand on the sheer brick as you listen and carefully peek around the corner. Jake clomps up behind you, a slingshot clutched in one hand. He's shit at being quiet but you can compensate, and you're glad to have him at your back in case you guys get cornered. No one messes with a boy packing a brown bear daemon who masses twice as much as he does.
When you look over your shoulder there's that infectious glint of adventure in Jake's eye, a toothy grin on his face, and hell if you're not weak for the twist of his smile when he's thrown himself into something all the scholars back home have told him to keep his nose clean of. (You're one of those things.) He presses up close behind you, cranes his neck to look around you to see what you're looking at. You can smell his cheap cologne and feel the heat of his body against your back. It would probably fit the tropes of all his shitty adventure novels if you pressed his back up against the brick wall right here, kissed him in a dark alley with the fabricated rumors of danger swirling around you, with a destination you need to get to, time ticking away. You think the idea over for a second, then slip it into the vault for later. (Because you will get inside and see the Batterwitch and your brother and all the lies the adults try to cover up for you, as if you're not smart enough to understand the gravity of crumbling economics. You'll pull this off and afterward you'll track back to your open dormitory window before the night's over; you can drag Jake with you through the streets again, show him a little extra fun before the two of you have to part ways for the night.)
"Three more blocks, right?" he asks, brushing past you to lead the way instead, barreling on into his precious adventure. The bear and the boy; one and the same. You sprint off after him, tarantula daemon on your shoulder tied down with webbing, a long bar of wrought iron in your left hand as your only legal weapon against the darkness.
You still have to meet Roxy and sneak inside, after all.
FILL: TEAM DIRK<3JAKE<3JANE<3ROXY
-------------------------
The homeless dogs scatter as when you run past, shoes echoing off the cobble stones and Jake on your heels. It's way past curfew and you've got a timetable to keep, back alleys to snake your way through to the college on the other side of town where the ancient and infamous head of the Betty Crocker corporation herself is making an appearance. Jane's already there, although the Crocker granddaughter not appearing would be rampant gossip tabloid fodder, and none of you dare risk it, despite the rumors and ghost stories the urchin kids tell that BCC is brainwashing children and spiriting them away. Maybe to be eaten.
Something's going down. Something your brother talked circles around in the first letter you'd gotten from him in ten years. Something to do with the research Jake's grandmother was doing and the visions Roxy's absent mother has been having since she was your age.
You're not supposed to be out and tracking your way through the city to this forbidden reception. Dave Strider himself told you to stay your ass put. Like you were going to listen to him. You've never even seen him with your own eyes, and he's finally in town for the first time in your life? You take a certain relish in ignoring his plans for you and implementing your own.
You skate to a stop at the intersection of an alley, one hand on the sheer brick as you listen and carefully peek around the corner. Jake clomps up behind you, a slingshot clutched in one hand. He's shit at being quiet but you can compensate, and you're glad to have him at your back in case you guys get cornered. No one messes with a boy packing a brown bear daemon who masses twice as much as he does.
When you look over your shoulder there's that infectious glint of adventure in Jake's eye, a toothy grin on his face, and hell if you're not weak for the twist of his smile when he's thrown himself into something all the scholars back home have told him to keep his nose clean of. (You're one of those things.) He presses up close behind you, cranes his neck to look around you to see what you're looking at. You can smell his cheap cologne and feel the heat of his body against your back. It would probably fit the tropes of all his shitty adventure novels if you pressed his back up against the brick wall right here, kissed him in a dark alley with the fabricated rumors of danger swirling around you, with a destination you need to get to, time ticking away. You think the idea over for a second, then slip it into the vault for later. (Because you will get inside and see the Batterwitch and your brother and all the lies the adults try to cover up for you, as if you're not smart enough to understand the gravity of crumbling economics. You'll pull this off and afterward you'll track back to your open dormitory window before the night's over; you can drag Jake with you through the streets again, show him a little extra fun before the two of you have to part ways for the night.)
"Three more blocks, right?" he asks, brushing past you to lead the way instead, barreling on into his precious adventure. The bear and the boy; one and the same. You sprint off after him, tarantula daemon on your shoulder tied down with webbing, a long bar of wrought iron in your left hand as your only legal weapon against the darkness.
You still have to meet Roxy and sneak inside, after all.