Young Writers Society

Kazimir was trying to use his last remaining minutes of clarity for their good. The city was too big to get out of in a few minutes, but if he could get them to somewhere they could hide for just a minute, maybe they could lose the guards.

But then, of course, the city would be crawling with guards looking for them if they stopped for too long, and by then, escaping might be impossible. For him, anyways.

He weaved in and out of alleyways, running faster and faster. Occasionally, he’d glance behind him at Derik, to make sure he was following and no one else was. It seemed like they were in the clear until he saw some guards on horses spot them.

“Fuck!” Kazimir shouted as he dove into another alleyway, leading them into a busy marketplace that was crowded with people. Too crowded for horses to follow.

He looked back at Derik, breathing hard as he offered his hand again just to make sure he didn’t lose him.

Derik also cursed as he spotted the guards, reaching out to grab the hand Kazimir offered to be sure that they didn't lose each other. He hoped this plan was going to work out for them. He knew why they needed to -- to lose the guards on horses. But being in an area this crowded by itself made him uneasy. Especially since the guards had weapons he wasn't informed about. Still, he didn't have much choice just then other than following Kazimir and hoping it worked.

Gradually, bit by bit, he felt himself regaining control over the R'hyk, but it was still too weak to actually be useful yet.

Kazimir ducked a little so that his height blended in more with the crowd, and he started weaving them through, leading them behind a few carts and booths so they were out of sight. He saw some of the vendors give him some furtive glanced and he put a finger to his lips and winked at them, looking back at Derik suggestively enough to get some eye-rolls. From there, they seemed to ignore him out of annoyance.

Then he quickly pulled them down another alley, ducking under a cart full of fruit crates. He dragged Derik under with him.

Still breathing hard, he tucked his legs up so they were hidden and turned to look into Derik’s face.

He knew he had a high tolerance, but this was... a lot. He was starting feel just a little too weird to feel confident about running back into the streets.

“I don’t know if I can...” he panted. “We just gotta wait this out. You ok? You uh... you didn’t get hit or uh...”

"I'm fine." Derik shook his head, panting, as he knocked the concern to the side. "Are you okay? I saw she got you again..."

Kazimir let out a shaky laugh as he still tried to catch his breath.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’m fine. Finer than fine. Never been better.”

He wasn’t going to tell Derik that he’d never had quite this much Lumshade before in his life. That wasn’t necessary. Then Derik would worry.

“I just... how’s your magic work again?”

"Oh, it's..." Derik was still panting but looked around for something he could use to test the R'hyk. The running had electrified him. He hoped that meant it was getting better, but he didn't have too high of hopes.

His eyes landed on an apple laying on the ground a few feet away from them. He pointed his palm towards the apple and tapped into the R'hyk -- and the apple zoomed towards him. He blinked at it, delighted, as it hovered just over his hand like it was supposed to. Then he grinned, looking back at Kazimir. "Ohohoho! It's back!"

“What the...” Kazimir said, staring blankly at the apple hovering over Derik’s hand.

“You have... fruit magic. Bro. That’s fuckin’ sick.”

"Fruit--?" Derik scoffed. He thought about explaining, then just shook his head instead. "Don't worry about it. But as long as it's back back, then I've got us covered. Don't worry."

Kazimir continued to stare at the apple, gawking. He was going to try to think of something funny to say, or even something relevant, but as words melted together like sludge in his brain, he heard a commotion out in the market. Some horses, neighing. People’s feet shuffling. Guards asking around for two tall men who were now fugitives.

His heart started pounding again.

“They went that way!” Someone shouted.

“Fuckin’ sellout,” Kazimir hissed. He looked over at Derik.

“We need to go. Now.”

If his magic didn’t work, then running into the streets blindly was their only option.

"Ahhh fuck!" Derik hissed. He'd hoped for more time than this to recover. But, this was it. He racked his brain to think of a place he could take them. He knew fully well he wasn't strong enough just then to take two grown men very far, but... he thought back to a grassy patch outside the city he'd camped at his very first night in this region before he went in.

"This is going to suck," he muttered, wrapping both of his arms around Kazimir in a tight bear hug. "Buckle up."

Without waiting for a response, he tapped into the R'hyk and started the Transport.

Derik still hated being the one in charge of actually conducting one. They always made people feel unsettled during -- and especially immediately after -- and generally had worse effects too, at least the first few times. Inexperienced people almost always fell over when they landed, and a large percent of people also vomited. Derik was ready to shove Kaz away in case one of those things was true for him, too.

But, the worst part was the responsibility. He could feel his body separate cell by cell and then hurl themselves through the air chaotically, swiftly rushing towards the campsite he focused on. A moment later they landed.

Derik stumbled forward a few steps, catching his balance. He hopped twice, shaking his arms and body in an attempt to get rid of the uneasiness that clung to his joints. That had been exhausting and he was going to need time to rest. But, they were safe.

He looked over to see how Kazimir was fairing.

Kazimir didn’t know what the hell just happened, but one moment, they were under a cart. Then, Derik was hugging him. Then, everything was spinning and falling apart. Then, he was on the ground.

Kazimir laid on his back, staring up at the blue sky above him. He let out a low groan.

“Ugughuguhhgugu,” he let out in an incoherent string of disgruntled and discombobulated letters. He didn’t feel so good.

He could feel the high starting to creep up on him like a heavy, euphoric wave, and he groped at the grass around him trying to find something to ground him. Maybe what he’d told Derik wasn’t entirely true. Yes, he had a high tolerance, but tolerance didn’t mean a thing when you were given far, far too much than any one person should have at a given time. Jada never emptied syringes like that, sticking a whole thing into a person. It was only because she was defending herself.

But now, Kazimir actually felt a little scared. He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself.

Maybe this would’ve been fun if he wasn’t so worried about Marcus, and now Derik, who was somewhere. Kazimir had lost track.

“Grass,” he said, feeling it under his fingers again. “You took me to grass.”

"Yes, I took you to grass," Derik said flatly. "With my fruit magic."

Despite his deadpan, he was rather concerned. Transports felt bad any time, and Kazimir was drugged on top of that. He walked over to Kaz and knelt down, looking at him, concerned. "You doing okay there, Kaz...?"

He thought about finishing the name -- Kazimir. But if defying death however many times they'd just did it didn't warrant an expedited friendship, he didn't know what did.

Kazimir blinked for a moment as he stared up at Derik. Derik’s face started to spin and squish and melt into the sky, but Kazimir still recognized it as him because of the voice.

He smiled.

“Ricky,” he said, his smile starting to fade. “I think, uh, I uh, might’ve... had a little too much to drink. Hah.”

He let out a weak laugh.

“How many faces are you supposed to have?”

Derik furrowed his brow, looking down at him, concerned. For the shit Kazimir had given him when he'd been brought in, it seemed to be knocking him on his ass even worse than it had Derik. The guard must have given him too much.

"Okay there, big boy," Derik said, shrugging off his tunic. He wadded it up and lifted up Kaz's head to give him a pillow, hopefully making him at least marginally more comfortable for whatever it is that he was about to have to ride out. "How much did she give you?"

“My whole leg,” he said, before realizing that answer didn’t quite make sense. He lifted his leg and slapped his thigh, trying to find where she’d stabbed him with the needle. He found the bruised sore spot quickly. It was throbbing.

“Fuckin’ whole ass motherfuckin’ syringe worth probably fuckin’ enough for a godsdamned horse shit fuck,” he spewed out in one connected string of words.

“Ohhh fuck, my leg,” he mumbled as he clawed at it. It felt like it was swelling like a balloon. “It’s gonna blow.”