an unkindness of vravens - day six.

Purple dyes the water around him as he submerges himself in it, oozing out above him and rolling off the waves he makes in a fine mist. And with it, the unadulterated rage fades slowly. The hatred he'd felt doesn't vanish, but rather it is suffocated by the sadness. By grief. 

Brody doesn't cry; it had been the anger that had allowed that to happen earlier. But he does draw their named in the sand now, as he sits on the beach cross legged with his sword in his lap. Over and over. Again and again. He crosses each out one by one. December first. Then Alice. In order, he thinks before he erases it all, and starts again. Each time their faces flash in his mind, the way they looked in death and after. At peace, he supposes. 

That doesn't make him feel any better, though.

•••

He doesn't look up when their names are painted in the sky. Instead, he seethes. Quietly. He thinks of Tune and how much he wants to snap that neck of hers. He thinks of Carly and her offer. Kill her so I don't have to, she'd said with a sly grin. As if she was the mastermind and Brody was the puppet. Stupid girl. Who in the fuck did she think she was? 

Kill her quick, but don't let her suffer, yeah?

It wasn't a question, though. Not really. More so a request or a demand. A hit. A bounty taken out on her head, though Brody doesn't remember being offered anything of significance in return. He'd kill her, though, but not because Carly told him to. Because he wanted to. And he'd sure as fuck make her suffer. Because he wanted to. And now especially just to spite that cocky bitch from Nine.

•••

He's surprised when he wakes up to still be alone at the river. He could have sworn there would have been some ambush or something that he was ill-prepared for. Brody half-imagined Tex would come pushing through the trees for another go, since their last encounter had been so brief. But he was almost impressed, still. He'd taken Andrew down in one fell swoop and Brody didn't relish the idea of being on the other end of that spear any time soon.

As soon as he goes to set out for the day, however, much to his dismay, the familiar flapping of wings is heard in the distance. He's too far from the forest to make it to cover and too unsure of the long-lasting effects of that purple shit he'd left behind in the water. It was still there, for fuck's sake. It never dissipated or dispersed, not even in that huge ass lake. That was unsettling, to say the least. Especially considering it was inside him at one point.

Brody draws his blade as soon as he spots it. Large. Much larger than the horde of bats he'd already encountered once here. But he's confident with this sword in his hand - with Ramsey's name beneath his fingertips he feels like he can do just about anything.

Including killing this ugly fucking thing.

So he rears back his arm and hopes to find purchase. He has far better shit to do today, like find some goddamn food. His stomach growls and he swings vengeance.

Oh, didn't he mention? He named the silver beauty. It'll look so good plunged through Tune Walker's chest, don't you think?