literature

Swallow and Draw: An Old West AU - Chapter One

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    Tavros: Discuss what troubles you. Everything: Change.
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    My damn horns are always in my way! I knock shorter trolls out cold with one step and send cups on high tables flying, and I can't even pull a shirt over my head. I have to step into all of my clothing, thanks to these two bars sticking out of my head. They stretch outwards an unbelievable three feet in both directions, and have knife-sharp points on both ends. 
    At times like this, my Dad would hold one of my horns in his hand and use the other hand to clutch my bony shoulder. He'd bend over and reassure me that as I grew older and my horns extended even farther, I'd be attracting more matesprites than fruit attracts flies. He'd say that in his quiet, condescending tone that meant and that's the only part of you that'll attract matesprites. Then my big brother Rufioh would come in the room, snickering and flicking his own pair, already 6 feet long in both directions, to show me.
    They both have horns to rival those of the immortal rust-blooded demoness of legend, who supposedly has horns big enough to fill a barrel of whiskey. I'm sure their horns could fill a barrel and then some, and oh boy are they recognized for it. I'll be coming home from the market one day and love-struck trolls by the dozens are trying to break down the door to my house just to get at my brother and/or father. Occasionally they'll sneak a peak at me when I try to sneak in through the back door, but they quickly lose interest. 
    Besides my brother and fathers' awe-inspiring horns, they are both really cool trolls once others get to know them. No, they are cooler than fresh milk on a winter morning. They just know how to do everything the right way. They know the right way to talk and the right way to walk to the saloon and the right way to nod their heads at everyone who stares. They make all the right decisions in hard times and all the right sacrifices. They're always right, and they know it, and every word they say is full of ease and confidence.
    Maybe I'm not old enough yet to be as right as them.... or maybe I just don't realize my own rightness. Whatever the reason, I find it harder than them to be right.
    Whenever I confess this to them, they just lift my chin and flash their perfect grins. They tell me, "Let the horns lead the way, Tavros. They're big and sharp and dangerous, just like you."
    Yeah, right. If I was as 'big and sharp and dangerous' as my horns, I wouldn't still be ranting about this. 
    I wouldn't be sitting in front of this mirror, my little puny self, if this was true.
    My horns are long enough now that they don't even fit in my mirror anymore. They frame me in the center; painfully obvious, the last drop at the bottom of the bottle. It's a miracle I can still hold up these things without falling flat on my face.
    I want to make myself look bigger in this mirror, as big as I can be. 
    So I lean forward until my nose almost touches the glass. The wood floor underneath my feet creaks and my vision is completely swallowed up by my reflection. My eyes are round, too round. I look like a wriggler when I should look like I'm 8 sweeps old. I sigh and wrinkle my nose. 
    Why is this the only thing I see?
   
Something twitches behind me, just above my hair line. Something small and dark glints in the sun. 
    The one window in my room shatters and I push myself away from the mirror and fall on my back before my mirror breaks a half second later. All the raucous noise outside floods my room, screaming and shooting and shattering and silencing. 
    My teeth clench together and I pull myself back up. I am the only thing moving in my room, and the hell outside only feels like a dream. I reach one hand forward to touch a fallen piece of glass and a drop of brown blood runs down my fingers. 
    This isn't a dream.
    "TAVROS!!!" I hear Dad scream.
    My feet move faster than my mouth does when I'm nervous. I burst out of my room and someone grabs me, throwing me out of the house. All I could see was a figure fallen in a mess of chairs and china plates and chewing tobacco. 
    A familiar voice pops into my ears, "The bandits are back, no time to stop them. We have to leave. NOW."
    I'm shoved into a run and Rufioh is holding my hand hard enough to split a dogs' skull. 
    Dry, dry sand is kicked into eyes by the bandits and the town trolls all running a muck. I shut my eyes tight and try not to cough up a lung. I feel debri under my feet and have to look where I'm going. In the mess of sand and wood and blood it's impossible to tell whether Rufioh and I are jumping over trolls or tables. 
    A shot blasts straight behind us. I hold my breath and pray whoever shot isn't aiming at us.
    I'm freed from an immense weight and stumble forward like a drunk horse. I stop myself before falling over and pull up my crushed hand.
    Oh no. Oh Gog no.
    Rufioh.
   
"RUFIOH!!!" I spin myself around and all I see is a storm of sand and shadows passing between the grains. "RUFIOOOOOOOHHHH!!!!"
    A shot echoes and a bullet bounces off the tip of my horn. I fall backwards and get a few tears knocked out of my eyes. 
    Part of me wants to just lay there. Lay there and cry for how it should've been me. Tiny little sad-excuse-for-a-brother me. I can't even get my brother out of town without being a burden and slowing him down. I can't even save a life the right way.
    You pathetic loser, what are you even doing?! RUN!!! RUN FOR YOUR SORRY LIFE!!! 
   
I clench my fists and listen to that incredulous voice inside me that knows far better than my heart. My heart can inflate to be just as big as my horns sometimes, for better or worse. Usually worse. 
    If only my ego could do the same. 
Ohh shoooooot :O . What will happen next???
(Well it's kind of obvious since if the main character died out in the desert then we wouldn't have a story)
BUT YOU KNOW. SUUUUUUSPEEEEEEENCEEEEE. XDXD
Tavros is a bae :3 . If you agree then the bae-ness will continue as you keep reading.
Also there's gonna be some shipping happening soon. And shipping wars. BecauseTav'sgotthatrackofhisandheattractsallthebadtrollsandbyrackImeanhorns. Which ships will survive? Read on, friends!




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