Bucket Lists
CLARA -
[—bar . dirty rags . !! . round and brown . . —]
The blurry mental images flicker in and out of focus behind Slate’s eyes, making him blink a few more times than necessary to disperse them. They’ve not gotten clearer, but they’ve continued to appear at inconvenient times, and it never fails to throw off Slate’s attention if only for a second. The visuals were familiar however, say for the… round, brown objects. It was Blake’s temp bar, a convenient mental reminder that he did in fact remember the way still, and he was getting close.
Slate pokes his head through a makeshift opening in the halls left, tilting it just a hair more to see if he could spot the aforementioned bartender. There weren't any soft rainbow refractions dancing on the ceiling or floor, so assumption being, Blake wasn’t currently at the bar.
“—Hey Blake! You uh, you open for business?” The Ankuri walks in without invitation, the scattered supply boxes and empty seats leaving Slate to awkwardly shift his shoulders, trying not to seem out of place.
[—hole . brown . dirt . [???] . shine . color . shimmer—]
“Did uh— aug. Did I catch you at a bad time? I don’t mind bouncing,”
The mental image now burned behind Slate’s eyes didn’t make complete sense, but the trademark shimmer and sudden soft color means Blake’s somewhere nearby, just out of earshot. And line of sight, obviously.
Faint dust particles scatter in the light as Slate meanders around the bar space, humming softly to himself as he pushes a barstool aside and takes a seat. He gently rubs a bundle of cloth wrapped around his chest, muttering something soft to whatever was wrapped within. The silence was… commonplace, but still hung a little too heavy for Slate’s comfort.
He hums just the faintest bit louder.
===
KERO
There was an almost melancholy bittersweetness to the remade bar. Anyone who had ever been in the original knew it was a pale shadow of what had been. There was a familiarity in the way the crates were arranged to mimic stools and tables, something that at once felt like the club of old and something new, like an echo without enough strength to manifest itself as real. But that familiarity itself had something about it that also felt comforting, as well. As much of an echo as it was, it was something to hold onto. One didn’t have to think to know where to stand. One only had to remember the barest layout to know that the dart board propped against the far counter was a relic of the old games that used to relax and delight Ankuri and mainlander alike just a few scant months ago.
There was a sign next to it, ‘get a bullseye and win a prize’. That was just as strangely familiar as anything else.
And so too was the sound of a metal clanging in the kitchen, past a door just to the left of the main bar counter.
“Oh fuc- I’ll be right out!”
A crabling next to the bar counter, which had been under a lamp, blinked awake at the words. Hurriedly, little metal claws grabbed at a paper and pencil that had been set next to it, and it hopped down off the counter, scuttling as fast as its little limbs could carry it to reach Slate’s seat and hold both things up to him.
It was an order sheet. Drinks had been painstakingly listed out on every page in two languages, as well as a little option at the bottom with a 'surprise me :)'.
"Alright, I'm here!" 'Here' was a stretch, but the Ankuri with the glowing scales was at least out of the kitchen. He tossed what had to be an apron on top of the already crowded counter behind the bar, setting a bowl of something or other next to it for later. With that done, he wiped his hands on a nonexistent shirt and made his way over to the makeshift table Slate had sat down at.
"Thanks, little buddy." With a sweep, the taller Ankuri bent down to grab the papers from the Crabling, give the machine a fond pat, and plop down in the seat beside Slate, pad and pencil at the ready to take his order. "Blake's new and improved club digs at your service! Putting the dig in a very literal new spin. What will it be? Dirt water? How about dirt juice? Or the new and improved cactus special?"
It was a familiar routine, with an added flair. Blake's elbow leaned on the crate that made the table as he spoke, his eyes occasionally peeking at Slate with a slightly curious air.
"Something's different," he announced, just as casually as usual. "You did something. Hair? New shampoo? Cut it in a rugged new wasteland look?"
===
CLARA
The sudden presence of noise and chatter makes the bundle within the cloth rustle and shift until a tiny white head pops out, its fluffy ears pointed directly at Blake before it lets out an enthusiastic “beep—!” Slate can’t help but laugh at the sudden excitement from Yell, muttering something about “lemme just— hang on. Stop wiggling—!” before he’s able to help the excited beeper out of its containment and allow it free reign of the bar.
“Someone’s happier to see you then I am, and that’s saying something!” Slate manages to sneak out a cheerful quip as he watches Yell hop around on the makeshift table, wandering around Blake’s elbow as it tries to take a peek at what Blake’s holding. This curiosity doesn’t last long though, as the little Crabling spotted just beneath Blake catches Yell’s attention just a tad more than the pad, and ushers in a new wave of soft but consistent beeps.
Slate smiles, letting himself chuckle a few more times before Blake’s comment properly sets in his mind, and he snorts. With a quick flip of his hand through his hair and a confident wink, he strikes a pose as he leans his own elbow on the table and allows his hand to rest beneath his chin.
“Oh I’m so grateful you noticed, it’s this wonderful new style ala chic wasteland-ish contour, with a hint of some particularly exclusive and expensive shampoo. It’s called—“ He flicks his hair again, the movement bringing a particular shine to the augmentation carved into his chest. “Dirt’en’Shagg’en. It’s all the rage, it’s almost like the dirt gravitates to me.” He smiles, doing everything in his power to not let the laugh he’s holding slip though. His puffed up cheeks do quite the job of giving him away, though.
“I heard through the grapevine though— pipeline? Can we say grapevine anymore?” He leans in as he continues his quips, shrugging slightly at his own question without waiting for an answer. “…Through word of mouth that you’d gotten your hands on some particularly interesting mainlander items. And through the same mouth, I was told there’s a very likely chance it will pair wonderfully with dirt juice. So—!”
His position shifts as he straightens up and lets the hand he was resting on do a little flare, gesturing to the pad in Blake’s hands. “Surprise me. And, while you’re at it, tell me how you’ve been! You aren’t looking too shabby yourself! Happy to see your shine more often.” The glimmer and glow of Blake’s scales refracts in just the right way to highlight the surrounding barrels and tables like a disco ball, bringing a wonderful ambiance and some much needed color.
Slate can’t help but keep his smile at the sight.
===
KERO
“As if I can do anything but shine. Weirdly enough it’s not the death sentence they made it out to be, eh?” Two months in, and he had yet to be devoured by an ancient as soon as he stepped out of the bunker. Of course, there was always tomorrow for that, just like every day, but as long as he continued to be lucky, it was still longer than anyone had given him before. Almost the same as Slate’s little beeping pet. Blake spared a hand to reach for the tiny creature, carefully running a finger under its chin and rubbing at an ear while his crabling did a greeting bounce in place. “One utter surprise, coming right up.”
Slate had asked for it, and Blake had all the resources to give. Still, he lingered for a moment, pencil tapping at the paper. Whatever thought in his head became a bit more apparent when he suddenly stuck a hand out and ruffled the other man’s hair, to a puff of dust.
“Hair-having showoff.”
He left him with that mutter, escaping from the crates before any revenge could find him. “As for how we’re doing, well… could say I have decided I both love and hate the sun. Love being able to see what I’m doing. Love being outside, having a breeze. The sky is great. Hate the sun for being a burning eldritch being that screams heat down at the sand until night falls. Miss being able to voice chat with my friends, love being able to see them at any time and not have to sleep all day. You know, the regular warren upheaval sort of mood. You got any news on your end?”
He washed a cup as he spoke, checking the mug to be sure no dirt had actually found its way in (not that Slate would mind, probably) before he reached back to the bowl he had set on the counter. With a flourish, he poured a measure of white slush into the bottom, and then a squeeze of some other sort of fruit, before topping it off from a water pitcher left on the counter. A few precious ice cubes later, and the addition of a sprig of half wilted plant for garnish, and the drink was ready.
By the time he came back, his crabling had already managed to scuttle up onto the table. It didn’t make noises, not like Yell, but it had its own charm in the way it could wiggle. It never even clacked its claws at the beeper, perhaps aware of the small animal’s prey origins. Blake handed the machine a sprig of too-wilted greenery to use so it could offer it to the Beeper while he handed off the drink to Slate.
“One surprise, made special for my current favorite customer.”
===
CLARA
There was a distinct comfort that Blake’s brand of jokes brought about, a comfort Slate hadn’t realized he missed as much as he did. He’d yet to stop smiling since he came in, and there wasn’t a reason to stop in his mind. Being in the bar, even if it wasn’t the original one, still had the same spirit and soul as before. He instinctively turns towards the rest of the bar as he snickers from Blake futsing with his hair, and—
—the light catches on his metal bands, making his eyes flinch. The world flicks from memory to reality, and he’s met with the same specks of dust and dirt floating in the vast, empty bar space as before. He swallows, hard. His legs are so sore.
[— white . shine . color . [???] . fur . !!! metal . —]
“Ah… Hah, you’re putting me on the spot a bit. Not particularly? Yell got into my freeze dried snack stash and ate a lot—“ He teases the little beeper as it chatters with the crabling, gently rubbing the top of its head affectionately. “But SAINTS don’t even get me started on the sun. I’m lucky I’m as neutrally colored as I am, I’d be toast otherwise. Been trying to figure out how to help at HQ though, since I’ve been socially banned from going near a Zuger.”
Slate’s attention is quickly set on the drink as it’s placed in his hands, the sharp cold from the ice cubes making his eyebrows and ears perk up. “Oh-hoh, pulling out all the stops for me, eh? What’s uh— What’s in this?” He instinctually takes a sip before Blake can even answer the question, Yell watching inquisitively as it cups the gifted greenery in its paws.
===
KERO
“When has being banned ever stopped you, huh?” The bar wasn’t exactly a busy place, and as much as there was to do, it was nothing compared to the sheer workload that the old club used to dump on him on a daily basis. More than ever, Blake found himself sitting with the patrons, listening to them talk. Part of him even still had the thought that he could doze listening to them talk about their day, but in this day and age, the niggling thought that he might be needed at any moment kept him from drifting off entirely.
It did not, however, stop him from sitting back where he had been sitting, or from settling down to cross his arms and rest his head down on the resulting pillow. “You finally get out here into the outside world and they tell you no. It’s not like you gotta worry about breaking the bead twice, right?”
Blake huffed a small laugh. Slate’s terrible luck was, of course, legendary. How many times had the poor man suffered a relatively minor mishap, only for some resulting major expense? The amount of repaired beads had become ridiculous at a certain point. But that was one of the charming things about Slate, in the end; he always stood back up. He fixed his beads, he dusted himself off, and he took the chance to walk out the door again.
Even if he knew it would end in disaster.
And, apparently, even if he knew it would end in a permanent change. Blake wasn’t blind, after all. The metal was obvious to anyone who’d known Slate more than a passing glance. But that was why the ‘new’ club existed. Blake had made it to grasp onto that last bit of normal left in this world. He wasn’t going to break it by asking for a story Slate had probably told too many times already.
Cracking one eye open from where it had drifted down, Blake fixed the ‘new’ Slate with a look, watching him take a sip. “The overlanders call it Coconut. Disgustingly sweet. Best taken in small doses or you might end up like Tutu and make yourself sick off it.”
Transferring his gaze to Yell, he puffed a teasing breath at the little creature.
“How is it?”
===
CLARA
Of course nothing was truly stopping Slate from hitching a ride on a zuger and heading off whenever he damn well pleased, he was acutely aware of that. The itch in the back of his mind reminded him of that every chance it could, every hour sitting feeling like you couldn’t do anything when folks need it most. No, it was more… the principle behind it. All things considered, Slate's been riding on a particularly prolonged chain of bad luck, and only just had a turnaround recently.
By all accounts, he should be dead. By all accounts, he shouldn’t have survived. The doctors called him lucky, “blessed by a saint” even with how unscathed he ended up leaving the Hive. He’d been chastised before by fellow survivors for even thinking of jumping from level to level as he did before the incident, but none have commented beyond that. Not directly, at least. But they’ve made up for it in constant, unsubtle reminders.
[They caught glimpses of an ancient pack just north, should stay put here with the rest of us.]
[Someone off at HQ needs some help organizing some data, you’ve got the skill for that yeah? Why not head there instead.]
[I don’t want you going out there again.]
Yet here, he felt… fine not being out. Not being on high alert at all times, pushing through doctors recommendations to lay down and rest all day. Here, he could just be present, be happy. Be…
Utterly confused by this drink—
“wOOAH-Hoh, wow, uh—“ Slate partially recoils as he swallows the large sip and is hit with a sudden punch to his taste buds. The overlanders had some sweet fruits, but they were manageable in small doses, especially dried. Coconut however, hit Slate like a boulder. He smacks his lips a little too loudly as he tries to process the whole thing, turning the cup around on itself as very few pieces add up to an answer.
“It’s… yeah it’s sweet, damn— It’s so light colored too? You wouldn’t think—!” He instinctively takes a second sip, still making the same face, but not as severely this time. His head shakes as he laughs, knocking Blake’s shoulder as he smiles. “You’ve really got a knack for surprising me, I can’t say I hate it! It’s, fun! Let's call it fun.” He holds the cup up to Blake as if to toast, despite his lack of a drink to reciprocate. “Has it been popular beyond myself and the siblings?” There’s a kindness in his question, but it’s apprehensive, as if unsure what exactly to talk about now that the drink has been described.
===
KERO
If there was one thing a Surprise was good for, it was banishing heavy thoughts. Blake watched the shadows over Slate’s gaze vanish in the face of a single sip, a brow rising up on his shiny head as a chuckle started deep in his chest. Even without a drink to offer, he mimed the toast. “‘Fun Delight’ it is.”
It was as good a name as any. And, like he was reputed for, it would definitely live up to its name… in the most unexpected sense for Ankuri customers. “Truthfully? Not many people have tried it. The one guy, Imanes, he said his name was, he knew what a coconut was and helped us prep it. All the other stuff is mostly dried; I guess it can’t all handle this heat.”
It was strange, to think of wild plants that weren’t prickly or suited for desert life, plants that existed in other areas where water was abundant and everything was green, in a place that wasn’t made for them like the hydroponics gardens. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered…
He made a face at his own thoughts.
“Either way, it’s not like we’re gonna set up shop here. Call me crazy but I have a feeling once this mission is done, just about everyone is gonna clear out and leave this hole in the ground behind as much as possible. So…”
Stranger than any water-guzzling plant was the thought that, in less than a month, everyone might very well be on their own separate ways. Blake huffed to himself, a rueful smile on his lips. “Pits knows where I’m going. You got any dreams you might plan on following after all is said and done? Grand Slate-themed adventures? I bet Yell would love to see whatever you got planned.”
As if to punctuate his words, Blake set his hands on the table and drummed his fingers gently towards the little rodent. The Crabling watched for a moment, and tapped its claws in the same rhythm in response.
===
CLARA
Yell perks up at the sudden sound and begins investigating Blake’s fingers, letting out a gentle beep in some attempt to mimic the rhythm as well. Slate watches this minor symphony unfold as he thinks, quietly stirring the straw of his drink as he does.
“…I’m, not too sure honestly. Just as much as anyone else, I’d love to go back and pretend like nothings changed, but… I don’t know, something about being up here is, exciting? I don’t know anything, and that’s not weird? It’s not seen as some “lackluster performance connected to incomplete research and general lack of attentiveness” or something.” His fingers make air quotes as he speaks, a faint bitterness in his tone.
“But, I might explore, drift a bit. I’d hoped to wi—“ He stops himself, beginning a thought before reality catches his words like a stone in his throat. He swallows it, shaking his head as he does. “I was going to explore with Iolite. But, I don’t know where he is. And I’d… I’d still like to go explore, y’know? Maybe see where Yell comes from, go check out the mainlander guilds, see the sea—“ A sigh escapes him as he trails off, setting the drink down after another sip to pet Yell’s tail. “I don’t know. Maybe, if you and the rest of the Scale Squad head to the mainland, I could come visit? Maybe bring y’all spoils of my travels, heh…”
There’s a sheepish tone to Slate’s voice, as deep down there’s… still a desire to be around the folks he knows. He wants to see them flourish, grow, and enjoy this new freedom…!
…But, he’d miss them.
“…You ever made a bucket list before?”
===
KERO
That was one of the normal things about the club that was missing. Almost unconsciously, Blake’s fingers began to drum a familiar song; one of the releases that had been popular in the Hive. Funny to think that his memory of it might be all that was left of the song before too long. Maybe someone had it stored somewhere, but… well, that was going to be a bitch to try and find all the things they had taken for granted back then.
At least Yell kept a decent beat. The faint smile on his lips changed to something more relaxed as he tapped out a little impromptu collaboration with the pets.
“You’re welcome any time, man. No matter where I am. Call it VIP privilege.” If anyone had it, Slate did. The Scale Squad almost didn't count anymore; they were basically family. "C'mon, get down on this. You recognize the song, right?"
The drumming of his fingers and the beat of the impromptu 'music' was a good excuse to have more time to think. Triggered by Slate's words, a description of the sun, a gentle thing coming in through the windows, came to mind. The scenery was vivid, almost as clear in his mind as the face of the little Undyre woman that had told him all of her vast experiences in the library. For them, life like that was everyday.
And for him, he'd never really dared hope to get out of the ground.
"Bucket lists ain't really a thing for my family." Finally, he admitted that much. "But I guess if I gotta, seeing that ocean is one of 'em. I think King Tut would go insane on the shore but I dunno, the Undyre guys make it seem so appealing. Had that one guy in here tell me he'd been stuck not able to submerge in water for like two years because of some shoddy machinery work, but he just got it fixed. I've never seen anyone so excited to talk about building a pool in my life."
The scaled Ankuri snorted a light laugh and reached over to tap Slate's arm with a fist, dutifully ignoring any lines of machinery visible on the other man's shoulders.
"As for Iolite, I'm sure you'll find them somewhere. It's been a lot these past months. Not going to say I didn't consider the merits of digging a hole and hiding in it until winter."
===
CLARA
“THAT’S what that was!!” Slate nearly jumps forward in his seat, trying to keep himself from laughing as he gestures behind the bar. “I’d seen something with a bunch of brown and dirt, assumedly. I figured you just had construction going on, or something.” He snickers as he finishes the drink, letting his head shake one final time as it goes down. “Heh, lots of answers being cleared up, it’s nice.”
His fingers begin to instinctually drum against the now empty glass, following along in the chorus being strung together by his fellow patrons. No thoughts of dread, sorrow, loss— Could penetrate the warmth felt by connecting with Blake, or even his other friends still sticking around at HQ.
Nothing about what had happened to them could have been predicted, nor planned for in any meaningful way. Iota could train and prepare all he liked for the End, Tau and Sept could tag-team like no tomorrow, even Slate could do the best he could with what he had; jumping like a Bladefriend out of hell trying to help where he could, when he could. But despite everything, despite such a profound blow to the Hive, there was still a spirit burning in so many Ankuri. Maybe it was those mainlanders bringing about a wave of change and vigor in all of them, but in his nearly three decades of being with the Hive, he could never have predicted everyone would form such a powerhouse to accomplish the impossible.
Slate places the glass down as he continues the beat, Yell cutting off its own backing vocals to come poke at his fingertips. He sighs, before turning to Blake once more. “I have, a proposition.”
“You’re absolutely right, there is nothing stopping me from doing what I want to do, no ban, nothing. What, or even who would stop me? So— I’m putting that mentality forward with this thought. I want to go all over, to as many places as my fancy new peets can take me til they rust twice over. And I figured, should your shifts at whatever kickass bar you build next allow it,” He turns entirely to Blake as he says this, offering a hand to him. “I’d love to take you with me for a few of those adventures. Who knows, I bet I could put together enough of those tokens and get you a two-way ticket to see the sea, or just a stay at a hotel! But something, as— as a thank you, for everything.”
“You don’t have to say yes, but, I figured I’d ask you now before HQ has either of us wrapped up in jobs for the finale.”
===
KERO
“Damn, you come into my bar and make fun of my holes? Cold-blooded, man.” With Yell losing interest in the song, Blake was left to do the only thing Blake could do. The taller Ankuri pushed himself up, making it out as if he might as well have been lifting some great weight just by straightening to a regular position. In a sense, it was ‘going back to work’. As if he had ever actually left in the first place.
But he lingered, still. Not just because Slate looked as if he had more to say, either. As much work as the club had been, the moments to rest had been so few and far between. That much hadn’t changed with the turning of the tides. His club may have been gone, probably for all time, but it had only opened him up to the possibility of the world out there. And sometimes, that world…? It was as small as taking a few extra minutes in an impromptu break from a job that wasn’t even technically an official one.
And sometimes, it was as large as a hand offered out, and a promise to show him what that world had to offer.
His hand clapped into Slate’s before the other man could even finish speaking. “No take backs. You’re not allowed to die and I’m not either until we’ve had a minimum of two adventures. We have an agreement now.”
And they were both probably somewhere in the realm of ten years accumulated on vacation time, besides. “I’ll even do you one better. Before I even start thinking about building up a new place, we’ll take that adventure time. See that world. Maybe even figure out a place that might be better for a new club.”
Part of him doubted he would ever truly leave Aunmarask, but another part of him resonated with the same words he’d given Slate. There was no one out there to tell him that he couldn’t do something. He’d already faced down an Ancient. Several, even… though some of them hadn’t exactly been his own conquest. He’d spent his entire life defeating the odds. Provided that they managed here, he’d be more than happy to keep doing so.
His hand lingered, though, squeezing once before finally letting the other man have his hand back with a huff of a laugh. “You don’t gotta thank me, though. If anything, it’s a joint effort; I’ll handle the token things and you handle the kicking ass part.”
It was only half a joke.