Quest - Scared Crows | Page 2

It sure wasn’t easy to keep it together around this guy. He kept surprising her. In a weird way, don’t get her wrong, but Destiny could roll with the punches. It was one of her better traits. Anyway, she was glad Phil hadn’t tried to kiss her booboo better, the gesture and intent was more than enough to take her mind off the little cut.

“Aw, what, like the city?” More evocative of sandwiches than stars-and-stripes, but all right! Golf-clapping, Destiny took in the splendor that was @Philadelphia with… well, no more impressed than she’d been before, but at least it wasn’t anything worse. “You gotta work on your eagle kingdom, bird boy, I only count one so far.” Hell, that’d be something to have a whole flock of ‘em though, right? Wasn’t natural behavior, but would sure be a sight in a dungeon.

Destiny felt like she owed him a similarly dramatic reveal, but didn’t have anything to fill it with. Destiny, Good At Running Away From Monsters! Didn’t have quite the same ring to it, y’know? Destiny, She Who Has A Scarf. Man, I really gotta work on my title. Guess I can ask him to come up with one.

“Well anyway, I’m Destiny Divebird,” she said, rubbing the back of her head, “You oughta help me come up with somethin’ else to say after that, I got nothin’. I ain’t the best at introductions.” She squinted apologetically—which might have looked like a bad wink— and shook some black feathers off her arm. “There. All done.”

Crowgate was finished! Destiny hung it up between two fenceposts, backing up to admire their work from a few yards away. Boy, she and Philadelphia probably looked like a newlywed couple admiring their first house. “Looks pretty good!” She patted him on the back encouragingly. Aw, he was silly, but he’d done a good job holding up his end of this crazy plan.

Speaking of plans… Christ, and now what do I do with these crows? They’d stopped making such a racket where they’d been trapped in the net, but that just made ‘em like fish in a basket if Phil got it in his head to go whack the lot of them for good. If I can distract him maybe I can just come by and pick ‘em up later. The self-proclaimed King of Eagles seemed pretty scatterbrained, she could probably pull that off.

“Let’s go inside and report the good news!” Destiny said, pointing at the farmhouse where the poor married couple had retreated while the hooligans did their work. Hell, maybe they’ll actually be grateful. Was possible, right? “C’mon, you two!” She tried to throw an arm around Phil’s shoulders to steer him in the right direction and realized he was tall enough that it was uncomfortable, so swapped to his waist instead.

 

“Yes! Exactly like the city!” Philadelphia beamed, both arms spread outward. @Destiny Divebird wasn’t just beautiful, she was also really smart. Definitely perfect waifu material. Most definitely. Definitely perfect. Perfectly definite. Maybe she’s from the same continent, too! Same country? SAME CITY?! Philadelphia blushed at the realization that his queen in this game might also be her queen in the real world. Hey, stranger things have happened. It’s not like relationships born out of online friendships weren’t a thing. Some people even contend with long distances just to make things work. It could happen. It could always happen.

His excitement died down, not unlike a balloon that was getting deflated, when his queen reminded him of a painful truth: His kingdom was barely a kingdom. In his head, the King of Eagles was a hereditary title, passed down from father to son, who becomes a father to his son, the grandson of the original father, so on and so fifth. In truth, however, the King of Eagles was constantly ignored by eagles. Well, except for Freedom who decided to join Philadelphia, even though she clearly hated his guts. In his early days in the game, Philadelphia actually made the effort to round up all the eagles he could find and talk to them, earn their trust, become their king. That was easier said than done. Eagles are pretty strong. They’re also really quick to peck at things, stab at them with their mighty talon. They also didn’t live together, not all of them, which shocked Philadelphia. He was even more shocked when he found out they didn’t talk.

“Yes, that’s true,” he sighed, defeated. “The eagle kingdom is currently, desperately looking for new members…” He left out the part where the actual eagles didn’t actually want to be part of his eagle kingdom. His sadness was only momentary, however, as the sound of Destiny’s full name made his heart explode. Figuratively. Literally would’ve been gross. Destiny… Divebird?

“It’s perfect,” he muttered, without thinking, his face red as a tomato, his eyes white as snow, and his mouth as wide as his brain was empty. “You’re my destiny, Destiny, and you’re also a bird! Like me! Caw caw! You could be the Queen of…uhm…Divebirds? Yes! The Queen of Divebirds!” Gah! He found himself close to having a heart attack when she winked at him. Technically, she squinted, but Philadelphia would take it. “I’ll take it!”

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes, “What is it?” It was caught between two fence posts, a lot of black, a lot of…feathers? Are those… Are those crow feathers? Eww! Philadelphia had been daydreaming his marriage with Destiny that he did not even remember what he had been doing. How he managed to succeed in his part was a mystery, though maybe it was all inspiration’s fault. He turned to Destiny and saw her looking proud of whatever it was, so he decided to be proud, too, of whatever it was. “You look pretty good!” he raised his eyebrows at her. Persistently. In sync.

Philadelphia saw Destiny’s arm coming a mile away. He actually saw it in slow motion, his eyes widening when her arm made contact with his back then moved to his waist. As fast as he could, he swept her off her feet and carried her in his arms. Like a baby. He locked eyes with her and smiled, “Let me carry you inside. Like a baby. Because you’re my baby.” It felt like decades, them staring at each other’s eyes like lovers in movies do. The sun was setting. Something romantic was playing as background music. Freedom was about to peck his face off. Wait, what?

“Caw caw!” Freedom started attacking Philadelphia’s face off again, though he managed to keep Destiny safe in his arms. Well, as safe as a baby would feel if it was trapped in a hammock with a hurricane swinging it around. (Stop this nonsense and do what the woman says, you mook! Get inside! Now!)

“Ow! Okay, okay,” Philadelphia screamed as he started running back inside, Destiny still in his arms. “I’m going to give you the best worms later. Jeez! Freedom’s acting like such a baby bird.”

 

Swept right off her damn feet. Go figure. Hell, not even the Queen of Divebirds (which she casually didn't mention was just a generic elf name from fantasygenerator.net) couldn't have seen this one coming. She met @Philadelphia's eyes with a dazed fascination, rigid in his sudden embrace. She waited, hitching her mouth to the side, for him to say something. Awkwardly enough, he didn't. Just, uh... stared. "Lotta eye contact goin' here," she started and then stopped as he spoke up. She could feel a tickle in her throat and she coughed to hide it, looking back up with watering eyes. A warning tremor ran through her like an aftershock. Like his... baby? Oh no. No holding back now.

Laughter bubbled out of Des like a sink overflowing, bright and surprised, a stark contrast from her lazy, drawling facade. Her long, gangly legs dangled over the man's arms as the elf-woman was suddenly jerked into motion away from Phil's eagle friend. She windmilled for balance, caught off guard by the sudden whirl of movement. "Wh-whoah!" Destiny's fingers snaked out for purchase against his lurching gait. With one hand she seized the front of his shirt, pulling his collar down uncomfortably low. The other she flapped helplessly in the air like a rodeo rider on a mechanical bull, or maybe just like someone desperately trying to flag down help. "T-take it easy!"

As she swung around, a giant raptor bombarding the man just overhead, Des had time to reflect on her life. In hindsight, she wished she'd reflected on the problem of what to do with the damn crows in the net behind them, but that was apparently still a problem for later. Hell, there's always the chance they'll squirm out on their own. She hadn't anchored the corners of the net with anything, so assuming they could untangle themselves, it was possible. As Philadelphia ran towards the farmhouse (bringing her by proxy) Des secretly hoped for this outcome. There'd been enough crow-death for one day, a couple traumatized birds would just tell the rest to keep their distance.

"You feed 'er worms?" Destiny puffed as they (he?) ran, surprisingly casual for a woman being jiggled like a carnival fish on an elliptical. "Christ, no wonder she's antsy! You oughta save tidbitting to reinforce positive behavior, y'know?" Throwing 'Merica a little something after she'd taken down those crows would've been a great training strategy, come to think of it. Des just hoped the bird found more substantial prey on her own. She looked up as they were hammering up the steps of the porch and clung tighter to Philadelphia's shirt, kicking her legs like a damsel in distress and yelling "Door! Door!" as the entryway loomed in her vision far too fast. Was he looking where he was going? How was he gonna use a doorknob when the King of Eagles had two hands full of her?

 

Nope. Philadelphia had not been looking at where he was going, but Destiny Divebird’s yelling changed all that. She was turning out to be the Iris West to his Barry Allen, his anchor to the real world while in the Speed Force, the Felicity Smoak to his Oliver Queen, his tech support lover girl who has his back all day every day, and the Mon-El to his Kara Zor-El, the could-be, couldn’t-be, the-suspense-is-killing-me married love of his life. Okay, maybe not the last part. Wait, she did say something about another guy earlier, so maybe, yes, the last part. Love was complicated, but people sure make it simple. Or was that the other way around?

“Don’t worry, my birby,” Philadelphia grinned with all the confidence he could muster, stealing a glimpse of his beautiful bride before keeping his eyes on the prize, the prize being the door of the farm couple’s house. “I got this.” Bracing his shoulder, the one under Destiny’s legs, the self-proclaimed King of Eagles barged through the door with such force, anyone in their right mind would have realized the door wasn’t even locked to begin with.

For some reason, Freedom stopped hounding her human at this point, as soon as the two two-legged creatures got inside the house. Perhaps it was because of something in that house, something sinister that both Destiny and Philadelphia, maybe just Philadelphia, failed to notice. Perhaps it was just because Freedom finally found freedom. For a few minutes anyway. She finally could take a break from Philadelphia’s antics with Destiny. Finally. All she needed now was a cigarette, or for a non-smoking demographic, tea maybe.

Philadelphia panted for a few, relieved that his worst nightmare was now over. Okay, maybe not his worst nightmare. There weren’t any humanoid crows in clown makeup around them…were there? No, no, no. No humanoid crows wearing clown makeup anywhere, thank Judd Apatow. There were just him, Destiny in his arms, and the two farm couples sitting in their dining chairs with their backs turned to them in the dark. Everything was completely normal, despite the farm couple being in the dark with Philadelphia and Destiny breaking and entering in their humble home…in the dark.

“Caw caw! Didn’t I tell you, birby?” Philadelphia’s eyes were once again glued to Destiny’s, as his face, his lips, moved ever slowly towards hers. “There’s nothing to fear with your king here. I wouldn’t let anything happen to your perfect skin, your perfect face, your perfect hair, your perfect…” He made a weird face, an attempt at flirting that was a miserable failure, having not had the opportunity to practice his skills in flattery on anyone else but himself and maybe his unhelpful avian friend. “…tail feathers. Caw caw! You are safe in my arms, birby. Safer with me than anywhere else. It’s the power of love.”

As Philadelphia continued to drone on and on about failed flatteries, terrible bird puns, over-romanticized delusions of love and romance and those sorts of things, he was in the dark in the dark about the true identities of the supposed farm couples sitting in their dining chairs with their backs previously turned to them in the dark. Needless to say, the supposed farm couples, who they really were, were no longer in the dark in the dark.

If Philadelphia would only stop to the farthest right corner of room, he would see something glinting---that’s the word for shining, right?---that shouldn’t have been glinting in that farthest right corner. A closer inspection, one that could have been achieved by narrowing one’s eyes, would reveal that that glint came from a ring, and upon closer closer inspection, narrowing one’s eyes towards the wearer of that ring, would reveal that there were two people in that corner, two people gagged and bound, two people they were more familiar with than the strangers in those dining chairs who were now staring at them with creepy, glowing eyes.

“…and even though the Eagle Kingdom may still be a bit small for your liking, it’ll get better with your radiant beauty and leadership by my side,” Philadelphia continued, his words spilling like a baby’s vomit after drinking too much milk, his senses completely in the dark in the dark of what was to come. “Together, we shall usher in a new era for the Eagle Kingdom! The King of Eagles and the Queen of Divebirds together! Caw caw!”

 

In the arms of someone full-tilt towards a very hard, very solid-looking door was not where Destiny wanted to be at the end of the day. Was this how their whole relationship was gonna be? Getting swooped up and smashed into various surfaces like a pie into someone’s face? As the door loomed up and Phil turned to barrel through it with his shoulder, Destiny gave her signature moan of panic. “Nghh.” It was as if the urge to holler at the top of her lungs had built up so much pressure that she couldn’t even yell, just snivel like someone who’d experienced mild discomfort or a slight inconvenience.

The door, however, turned out to be little more than a slight inconvenience to the King of Eagles, who flew across the mantle and into the dark farmhouse as if it had been—well, unlocked. Phew! That’s a relief. Almost a little disappointed, body still tensed with anticipation of the impact, the Yladian let out her breath and her fingers slowly loosened on Philadelphia’s shirt. “Jesus. Scared the hell out of me,” she said. Then she frowned. It dawned on Des the house was dark and it wasn’t even nighttime yet. “Someone forget to… turn on the lights?”

Ruh-roh. Hell, she had creepy-crawlies stippling up and down her skin now. “Uh, Phil—buddy, c’mon—” She leaned away from his advancing face, which was less-than-successful considering the fact that he was still holding her and her range of movement was limited. Despite the ominous ambiance, she rolled her eyes at his flattery. Tail feathers? Well, he certainly had a handful of ‘em at the moment… Christ! They had company, no time for shenanigans!

“Aw, don’t mind him, sir, ma’am, he’s just…” Des trailed off as she turned her head and realized the two figures she’d assumed were the farmers were… well, sitting with their backs to them. Well, guess they won’t notice a quick smooch then, she thought, hitching her mouth to the side. She was about to give up and give her persistent partner-in-crime another peck just to get him to listen when a “HOLY HELL, Phil, we got—stop it!—we got trouble!”

The ranger’s eyes had, of course, adjusted to the dark interior by now. She’d caught a glimpse of the tied-up pair in the corner and the pair in the chairs sure as hell had eyeballs on her. Meanwhile, Phil’s puckered lips collided with her eyebrow as she suddenly turned her head. “Down, lemme down!” Hell no, she hadn’t signed on for spooks! She sure hoped Phil could run as fast as her.

Tumbling out of his arms, Destiny scrambled to her feet, heart pounding. She whipped her head around to look at the door, ready to bolt before whatever-the-hell those ghosts were could get between her and daylight. As she did, however, she saw the glint of light off the woman’s wedding ring again. Aw, hell...!

It only took a moment of hesitation before she dove towards the corner. “Hold ‘em off!” she shouted to Philadelphia, crawling over threadbare rugs on all fours like a clumsy beast capering towards its two bound masters. When was she going to get her coordination under control? Reaching the farm couple, Destiny got busy fumbling the knots loose, heart hammering in her chest. Christ, god, dammit, faster— If the spooks came near her she would fire her loaded crossbow at them, but that was just one shot—and Destiny had forgotten the weapon was primed not with a bolt, but with a net trap meant for catching crows.

 

Philadelphia, the self-proclaimed King of Eagles, had been oblivious to @Destiny Divebird's resistance of his "charms" from the very start, so it was no surprise when he continued to be oblivious, this time to his "queen"'s concerns. He hadn't even noticed that the house was dark, very dark, mostly because all his attention was on smooching, or at least trying to smooch, Destiny. For some reason, he thought it was the most appropriate time to do the lewdz, despite the fact that the room was dark, very dark.

Fun fact: There's a reason why the concept of darkness has always been associated with terrible, scary things. For one, light is associated with good things, so naturally, it's opposite, darkness, would get thrown in with bad things. Second, you can do more terrible things in the dark than in the light, since darkness will give your bad actions the cowardly blanket that it requires to be "bravely" executed. Third, horror movies. Fortunately for Philadelphia and Destiny, this wasn't a horror movie. Unfortunately for them, it was way, way worse.

Philadelphia was too busy savoring their "kiss," which wasn't really the kind of kiss he wanted to get, unless he wanted to smooch Destiny's eyebrow, which wasn't really the kind of kiss anyone wanted to get. Well, most of the time. It's hard to speak for everyone, considering everyone has their own tastes and distastes.

Philadelphia, however, had the tastes and distastes of a stereotypical bird person, if there even was such a thing. He likes to fly, which he can't even do; he likes to fight crows in the name of his eagle kingdom, which actual eagles don't actually care about; and most importantly, he likes to smooch his queen on her beak, which was what he called her lips. Because birds.

"Ah," Philadelphia giggled like a school girl with his eyes closed, for some reason, enjoying that "kiss" that wasn't a kiss. "You're the world's greatest kisser, my love!"

That statement was pure opinion, considering Philadelphia has never kissed anyone else, not in the real world, not in this world, so his research is technically not a research, his statistics can't survive past the number 9, and his references only including his hand and maybe a stuffed bear or two.

The King of Eagles was paying too much attention to his daydreaming and less on what was happening around him that he didn't even notice Destiny escaping his clutches, so he was still a little spaced out when his queen gave him an order, "Hold what off?"

A lot of weird things came to his mind with that order. Hold his breath. Hold a sack of potatoes. Hold his baby with Destiny, which wasn't a thing except for that thing in his head complete with an actual beak and some green feathers.

"Oh," Philadelphia blushed at his childish thoughts. "Do you want me to hold something else? Hihihi! Oh, you! Not now! Not here! There are people here. Tied up people. And ghosts."

One. Two. Three. He blinked three times in succession, his hands over his giggling mouth that soon stopped giggling, his cheeks red with embarrassment that turned into white with fear. Destiny was on the ground, he finally saw, untying some knots, trying to rescue the couple? He narrowed his eyes at Destiny and the couple before turning to the ghastly shapes in the corner. Again. And again.

"Oh," he pointed a finger at the things he shouldn't really point fingers at. "You're not the farm couple."

Wailing. Loud, long wailing. The things were quick to their feet, perhaps because they didn't have feet. They didn't need feet. Instead, they simply floated through the air, both of them charging at Philadelphia, the self-proclaimed King of Eagles. He was pushed back, towards the door, rolling back outside through the door, tumbling backwards, before that same door closed itself shut.

A relaxing Freedom was caught off-guard by the sudden interruption of her momentary respite from her human. As if on cue, she flew angrily towards him, seemingly on the attack, but at the last minute stopped, confused at Philadelphia scratching his head, all alone, without Destiny or the family still inside. And what was up with that door?

"Caw caw?!" Freedom floated over her human, concern on her eagle face. (Where's Destiny? What happened? What's up with that door?)

This time, however, Philadelphia ignored him. His main concern was his head, how it hurt, and then his back, how it hurt. Strangely, his front parts weren't hurt. Shouldn't they hurt? Those two things did push him back out there. Anything done forcefully should've hurt, yet he felt nothing on his chest or his shoulders or even his face. "Ow! What were those things? You okay, my quee---"

"OH, NO!!! MY QUEEN!" Philadelphia dashed forward, lifting himself off the ground with ease, and slammed face-first into the door. He felt himself stunned for a moment or two but his desire to protect Destiny quickly made him regain his senses. He grabbed the knob of the door with both hands but they wouldn't budge. He tried and tried and tried again but to no avail. Desperate, he started slamming on the door, but that also didn't help.

He turned to the sky, at least what was above him, and while still forcing the door open via the knob and slamming his shoulder against it, he screamed, "DESTINYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Caw caw?" (What the fowl?)

 

Suppressing the urge to give an Alvin-and-the-Chipmunks-esque scream of “PhiladelphiaaAAA!” was difficult, but since Des was an infinitely patient saint of goodness and calm, she—did he just leave?

A ghost locked the door behind him. Goddamnit.

“...PhiladelphiaaAAA!”

Worst. The worst. Knots only half-untied, the Yladian had to dive out of the way as the second ghost came way too close for comfort. Cursing, banging her knees on the linoleum (did medieval kitchens have linoleum, or was it just tile? Christ, she didn’t have time for this!) Destiny crawled towards the wastebasket in the corner. The ghost drifted after her. Slowly. It had no need to run and crawl and move quickly. It was a slow chase, a sinister chase. She was at the leisure of a being who knew it had its prey cornered.

This is what I get. This is what Des got for stealing scarecrows and shooting the legs off birds and unfairly capturing a flock of the native avian population without a permit. At the same time, getting murdered by vengeful spirits in an NPC’s kitchen seemed like karma overkill.

Rolling onto her back as the ghost loomed over her, Des seized the wastebasket and threw it at the spectral figure. Trash rained down, mostly on Destiny. “Goddammit!” She rolled to her feet, slipping on eggshells, and parkoured badly off a cabinet, tearing the cupboard door off in the process. The wood clattered on the ground as the ghost stilled, seeming to turn and watch her with its glowing eyes as the long-legged Yladian ran and leapt in circles around the kitchen, breaking something new with every lap.

Crash! There went the dish rack. “Get away, spook!” Crash! A bowl of fruit rolled on the ground as Destiny hurled the paper towel holder at the spirit, crouched by the side of the sink. “Aw, hell—” The projectile phased right through the top of its head and she lunged off the counter, busting the faucet. Water began to spray around the kitchen. Des seized a butter knife from the ground where the dish rack had fallen and sprinted through the growing puddles back to the entryway, falling upon the farmer and his wife again to saw at their bonds.

“I hear you, lover boy!” she hollered back at the sound of her name being screamed through the locked front door. She thought she could even hear the caw-caw of an eagle out there, but couldn’t be sure. “Could sure use a hand in here!” She finished sawing and the farmer pulled himself free, gasping for air as the gag dropped from his mouth. He then grimaced as Destiny dripped water on him. “Get her untied! I’ll hold ‘em off!” she hollered, pushing the man. Both ghosts were drifting towards her now, unified in their purpose. She trained her weapon on the pair, closing one eye, holding her breath. There—just gotta line ‘em up—

Destiny took aim with her crossbow right above both of their heads and fired.

The net shot completely through the ghosts pretty much the way you would expect a net would shoot through incorporeal beings. It landed on the doorknob across the room in a crumple of string and struggling feathers. Hang on—how—

“Peggy?!”

Somehow that damn blackbird had gotten tangled up in her crossbow net again and she’d been too busy getting carted around by @Philadelphia to notice this whole time. The small avian hung from the net, twittering angrily and fighting against the cords. “You dumb bird!” Christ, how many birds and people and whatever-else did she have to save in this haunted house?!

Loosened by a combination of Phil on the other side and Peggy jiggling the opposite handle, the doorknob suddenly fell off. The startled blackbird was pulled through the hole, net and all, and landed in a heap of stunned black feathers on the other side.

In all her time with Peggy, Des had never loved him so much.

“PHIL PUT YOUR DAMN HAND IN HERE AND UNLOCK THIS DOOR AND HELP ME!”

She threw a pillow at the ghosts. It worked about as well everything else.

 

"Oh, no! My queen's in danger!" Philadelphia screamed the obvious after consistently failing to get the front door opened. In retrospect, he could've just continued trying and failing miserably, turning the knob and smashing his shoulder against the door, considering how the self-proclaimed King of Eagles wasn't really someone who quickly learned from their mistakes. Yet the feeling of looming doom somehow forced her brain to actually start working. Well, working might not be the appropriate word for that, for whatever was going on with him. "What am I gonna dooooooo?!"

"Caw caw!" Freedom continued hovering right next to her human, all sense of hatred towards him replaced by concern with the other creature inside the house. While Philadelphia had been thinking that the eagle was sort of jealous towards @Destiny Divebird, Freedom in fact considered the Yladian the only smart being around. Aside from her, of course. The farmer couple were idiots, as far as the eagle was concerned, considering they allowed someone like Philadelphia to handle their business. (You can try the window, maybe? No, not maybe. Try the window. Try the window now, you mook!)

"Gah!" Philadelphia waved Freedom off. He did not have time for any of her avian antics. His queen's life was at stake here. And not the delicious kind of steak. "Now is not the time to tell me how majestic, I am, Freedom! Can't you hear my queen calling out for me, for my help, from inside the room?"

As if on cue, Destiny's voice hollered at them. Whatever hollered means. Freedom probably knew what it meant, for some reason, but Philadelphia? Not so much. But now was not the time to consult dictionaries and the tyrannosaurus. Now was the time to think of a way to rescue his queen from whatever the thing was that attacked him, that defiled his clothes, that pushed him out of the house like he was a network marketer. Whatever that was.

"Caw caw!" Freedom yelled at him again, clearly exasperated. If only the eagle had arms, Freedom would've already slapped some sense into Philadelphia. Twice. Maybe thrice. Freedom would've probably just used Philadelphia as a battering ram to take down that door. Head-first of course. (The window! Use the window! Jalapeno Fried Chicken!)

Suddenly, a light bulb appeared above Philadelphia's head. Figuratively. If that was literal, he'd probably die or something from that light bulb falling on his head and breaking his skull. Freedom would have probably liked that. Probably. "I know! I should try the window!" Philadelphia ran towards the closest window, leaving Freedom on her own.

"Caw caw!" If eagles could facepalm, Freedom would've done it already. Sadly, the eagle could only watch in disdain as her human continued to make a fool of himself...and in the process endanger the life of one useful Yladian. (That's what I sa--- Never mind.)

"Caw caw!" Philadelphia crashed through the window from the side of the house, rolling into the room like some pretty cool action hero. He took out his shitty spear and threw it at one of the ghost things, oblivious to how it simply passed through his target and got stuck on the opposite wall. Philadelphia didn't have time to check on his spear, or the ghost things, because in one fluid motion, he grabbed Destiny towards him, right in front of the window he crashed through, and stopped, so he could look her in the eyes all romantic-like. "I'm here, my queen. I'd never let anything happen to you."

He closed his eyes and tried to smooch her again, all while the ghost things, now more furious than ever, looked ominously towards them. Any minute now, they'd charge towards them. Probably. Ghosts gotta ghost.

 

While @Philadelphia provided obvious stage commentary like the token character in Pokemon that always repeats everything happening in the gym battles for the target audience of ten-year-olds, Des was in hot water. “Oh no! The ghosts are about to get Destiny!” her own personal announcer yammered in her head. Where the hell was her weird bird-boyfriend?

“Goddammit Phil! Freedom, tell him the door’s unlocked!” Peggy had knocked out the doorknob. All he needed to do was stick his hand—

The King of Eagles burst in through the window like an action movie star, raining glass down on Destiny, who yelped. “Hey!” She covered her head, reflexes taking over. Sure, she was scared as hell of weird scarecrow-owl-farmer spirits menacing her, but when it came down to a match between sixth sense and five other senses (like a loud-ass crashing noise and getting peppered with shards of windowpane) she was gonna default to the latter.

“Well shit.” All right, reassess the situation. Destiny still had no tools at her disposal for ghostbusting (unless you counted Philadelphia.) Phil was back, so that was nice unless you considered the fact she’d probably have to save his spear-throwing ass. Freedom was here now too, which was an unexpected perk, and Peggy was currently trapped in a net, which took him out of the equation. All in all, it meant—

“What?” What? It was a real bad time to get lovey, but bird boy surprised her. Still blinking away stars from the sudden light streaming through the open window, broken glass glittering on her shoulders like stardust, Destiny was swept into Philadelphia’s embrace like the protagonist of a harlequin romance novel. “Mph?!” Why were they kissing?!

As the lovebirds (were they, though…) held one another (it was pretty one-sided, actually) in the streaming light before the shattered windowpane, a distant sound began to filter into the little cottage from the outside. A raucous, angry sound. Caw, caw! It was not Freedom’s signature cry, but a hoarse echo of something else. Something in high numbers. Something with reinforcements.

And they saw the duo who’d slain their fellows and bagged them up in nets, and they descended. The two tall specters looming towards the oblivious couple recoiled as black wings suddenly burst through the window like an Alfred Hitchcock movie, crow after crow dive-bombing the farmers’ cottage as their harsh cries intensified, enraged by their treatment at the players’ hands.

“MPH!” Still trapped in Phil’s arms, Destiny’s eyes grew wide. Duck! Get down! She wanted to shout, but her lips were trapped by an—extremely—long—inescapable—let me goddamn breathe, please—kiss. She wanted to duck on her own, but the King of Eagles’ arms were wrapped tight around her waist like they were slow-dancing at Prom. Crows were bursting in like black feather-bombs and one of them was gonna lose an eye if they didn’t move—

Destiny did the only thing she could to get them out of the line of fire. Since she couldn’t get away, she wrapped her arms around Phil’s back, tightened her fingers securely in the back of his shirt, and yanked him down on top of her. She fell on her back in the broken glass as they toppled over, still glued to Philadelphia in their weird kiss. “Mph!” she said again, heart pounding wildly in panic.

In the living room, the ghosts’ mouths opened in soundless shrieks as they flew around the room, bombarded by angry black birds looking for their human prey. Could they be… scared of the crows? I'll be damned! Realization was dawning in Destiny’s mind even as she lay under her meatshield. Was this why the ghosts had been moving all the scarecrows around the house—to keep the birds away?

Meanwhile, Des wrapped her legs around Philadelphia to keep him down on the ground and away from doing anything stupid, like jumping up to kill more crows that’d definitely get him first (if the ghosts didn’t beat them to it.)

 

While Philadelphia lost himself in that well-deserved (at least to him) smooching, Freedom wasn’t too keen with anything surrounding them, not with the darkness in the house, the two creepy-looking things in the house that wasn’t Phil or @Destiny Divebird, and that sound that wasn’t in the house but definitely seemed like it would be in a matter of minutes, seconds even.

“Caw caw!” The loyal but often violent, err benevolent, eagle raised her immediate concerns to her oblivious human. (Oi! Stop that! Something’s coming... Something that’s not gonna be conducive to all that smooching. OI ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME)

Of course, Philadelphia wasn’t. With his queen Destiny’s lips on his lips, the self-proclaimed King of Eagles locked himself in his own fantasies, his perfect reality, one that didn’t involve two creepy-looking things that weren’t the farmer couple or the inevitable storm of crows that only had one thing in their hive mind: Revenge. Murder, the term for a group of crows, is coming.

“Caw caw!” (I’m out.) As soon as that black tornado, hurricane more appropriately, came down on the house, Freedom made the smartest decision an eagle could make: Duck. It wasn’t the bravest decision, nor the most heroic, but it was perhaps the only decision she could’ve made, considering her human was caught in some sort of trance, the other human was currently encumbered by that same trance, and she was alone against a horde of enemies. Facing them all on her own was suicide.

Philadelphia, in his defense, had no defense. That kiss ended up surviving for far too long. How he was able to breathe while smooching Destiny was beyond anyone, especially Freedom. Even after he realized that very fact, that the kiss was way past its end date, that both he and the queen needed to breathe, slowly, carefully, unwrapping his arms from the Queen of Divebirds’ waist, it seemed that fate had other plans, that that very kiss was destined to go on for much longer, much to his unexpected but joyful surprise.

"My queen! She’s handsy!" Philadelphia felt Destiny wrap her arms around his back, returning his passion with zest, zeal, more passion! In a matter of minutes, seconds even, she pulled him down on the floor, right on top of her. The self-proclaimed King of Eagles felt his heart race, his cheeks flush. He had not expected this. Was he even ready for it? "I… I dunno how to make little birbies!"

Feeling himself panic over his supposed, imagined, inadequacy in that aspect of a king and queen’s relationship, Philadelphia finally got to his senses, realizing things weren’t going as great in that house. The things he saw, now from the corner of his eyes, were getting attacked by his worst enemies, the crows. Could it be? Were they there to rescue him, them, their worst enemies? No. They were there to steal the glory, to steal the fame, to steal the victory, all in an effort to humiliate him, them. It was a fate worse than death for a king, a queen, a monarch.

Furious, Philadelphia attempted to get off Destiny to attack the treacherous crows. Unfortunately, Des had trapped him with her legs. Like some sexy vise-grip, ready to make them birbies to strengthen their birb kingdom. "Mph!" Try as he might, the self-proclaimed King of Eagles found himself speechless, his tongue caught by a bird, a Divebird, his queen, the love of his life. “My queen, no! I’m not ready to be a f(e)ather! Also, I have to beat up these dastardly crows who are stealing our victory!”

Alas! Philadelphia, the self-proclaimed King of Eagles, currently trapped by Des’ swole legs and equally swole lips, could only watch in agony as the murder of crows did battle with whatever the other two things were. Were they some sort of foreign monsters? Or were they simply just angry sheets who wanted vengeance for the farmer’s wife using too much detergent? Did detergent even exist in this world? Too many questions, too little time…to do anything but flail on top of Destiny. "Mph!" “Nooooo!!! My victory! Crows, stop! Those thingamadoods are mine to vanquish!”

 

Damn! He’d noticed!

Noticed what, Des, that there’s a hundred crows flying around the house? No goddamn kidding! That was why she’d taken precautions to begin with, right? Hell, she was no wrestler or martial artist or whoever those people were who could actually execute a leg-lock, but Des liked to think it was still effective. Kinda.

She had to break the Infinite Kiss™ to grit her teeth in pain – @Philadelphia flopping around was reminding her that she was laying in broken glass and hell if she needed more back injuries, especially from an activity that sounded as dumb as how high schoolers got “muscle strain.” She could picture it now. "Where’d you get these scars, Destiny?" Aw, these ones? From an ancient sea-dragon that slashed me up while I was deep-diving through its hunting grounds. "What about these ones?" Makin’ out with a dude in hazardous terrain. I was bottom.

Holy hell, this had to stop. She couldn’t handle telling that story.

“Arright, up! Up-up-up!” Des drummed on Philadelphia’s shoulders impatiently, wincing as shards burrowed past the straps of her armor. Was this even gonna work? Phil was gonna start spearing crows with the TV antenna at this rate, and the only way back out was the window. Hang on! Door’s free again! Maybe they could duck out real quick and leave these spooks inside with the birds…

She staggered to her feet and covered her head as birds ricocheted off of it, one suspiciously fake-looking one bouncing off her face. “Ow! Aw, hell.” Sure would be nice to have a Beast Tamer around—oh right, they had two and neither of them could appease these assholes. Not as enraged as they were, anyway. Fair enough, we did kill a few and string ‘em up. Guess Terrasphere crows were a little wilier than ones in real-life. Didn’t think they’d mobilize though, jesus christ—

Grabbing a gas lamp and swinging it around her to ward off the birds whose claws and beaks tried to savage her elf face, Destiny fought her way towards the door. She almost threw the lamp before remembering a hundred movies about gas lanterns bursting into flames (which sounded dramatic but not what they needed right now) and grabbed a couch cushion to shield herself instead, crawling towards the exit.

The battle was a cacophony (a caw-cophony) of sound, of crows’ wings and voices. Above it all, a single high-pitched note like a dog whistle increased in volume, louder and louder over their the feathery assailants. The ghosts were screaming. Their mouths opened in a soundless gash and the high-frequency buzz reverberated from their spectral bodies. Harried by the birds, their slow drifting had become twists and turns like ribbon-dancers, trying to escape the onslaught.

“Philadelphia, get over here! We’re leavin'!” Des tried to shout hoarsely, wiping her mouth (which still felt a little spitty) on the back of her hand. In the barrage of bird-noise it was lost, however. She continued to fend crows off, edging towards the door. Where was the damn King of Eagles? She shoulda kept him in her leg-lock if she wanted to keep track of the spear-wielding fool. And what had happened to the farm couple?

The room was loud as hell. But Destiny swore she could hear knocking from the back. Loud, impatient knocking. The kinda knock police or probably PayPal debt collectors did before they busted down the door and came in guns blazing. Can’t be. Her elongated elf-ears had to be playin’ tricks on her.

 

As soon as he got his freedom, the concept, not his eagle familiar, the self-proclaimed King of Eagles, Philadelphia, sprinted off of @Destiny Divebird and brandished his junk of a spear. A few crows here and there blocked his path, some intentionally, others just got thrown back by the creepy ghost things or bounced off their own kind, the dumb birds, but they were no match for Philadelphia's tenacity.

The King of Eagles covered his face with one hand, the other tightly gripping his spear. Everything in front of them was a giant storm of black, feathers flying everywhere, caw-caws piercing the sound barrier, as a murder ended up spoiling an attempted murder.

"Git out of here, you!" Philadelphia screamed at the crows, not even getting the room to effectively use his weapon, though the word "effectively" wouldn't really describe anything related to his spear. "Those are my opponents, my foes, my victory!"

Scream as he might, the self-proclaimed King of Eagles was completely ineffective, not just normally but also in this very scenario. "Go on, git! Git, git, git!" There was no way in hell the crows would listen to him. For one, he was the King of Eagles, not the King of Crows. Second, these crows hated him and were out for revenge against the adventurers. It just so happened that the ghost things were obviously more of a threat than birb lovers who barely knew what they were doing. Even crows were smart enough to realize that.

"Caw caw!" A familiar caw caw caught Philadelphia surprised. He had forgotten about his eagle familiar, of all creatures, Freedom who apparently had taken flight, away from the crows, away from the chaos. Freedom was obviously the smartest being in the room. And maybe in a five-mile radius of the farm. (Get out of there, you fool! Take the girl and skiddadle!)

"Freeeedoooooom!!!" Philadelphia screamed, rather dramatically, more than he should've, more than necessary. The crows, however, ignored him, and so too did the two creepy ghost things who had a problem of their own. "Deeeeeeestinyyyyyyyyy!!!"

It was getting out of hand, him included, standing there like a complete idiot while everything else turned to shit. He didn't even think of the farm couple. If things continued to go like this, it wouldn't be far-fetched to consider that this might very well be the end of the birb couple.

And then someone kicked the door wide open. Philadelphia could barely see what was going on but three people all wearing masks and black clothing started swarming the place, shooting laser beams at anything and everything that moved. Not like those painful, killer laser beams from science fiction movies, though. These laser beams were more light reflected, the most basic of laser beams, which even a ten-year-old tinkerer could come up with it.

The laser beams were enough to scare and spook the crows who, one by one, got the heck out of there. It was something out of a wikiHow page of Scaring Away Crows, Step Two of Part Three even, whatever that meant. The laser beam-wielding trio even accidentally, or maybe it was intentionally, considering he was dressed like a bird and could've been easily mistaken for one, shot Philadelphia in the eye with one of those laser beams.

"Gah! Son of a bird!" The King of Eagles stumbled back, swinging his junk spear in the air, only one eye providing him visibility in the midst of the final few crows leaving the place. One, two, three steps later and he slipped on his own foot, falling backfirst into the two creepy ghost things. This was not his day. This was not his moment. But at least the crows were gone and he singlehandedly beat the two creepy ghost things? Oh, and both Freedom and Destiny were safe. Hopefully. He groaned, "Nailed it."

 

“Jinkies!”

It was the first thing other than git (and maybe her own internal yelling) that Destiny heard when the back door slammed open. Intended ironically or not, it was a fitting opener to the SWAT team trio of laser-shooting ghostbusters that hit the living room. Black clothes, black crows—the room was already dim enough despite the open window that Des had a hell of a time seeing, and the beams of light ricocheting off the walls weren’t helping.

Oh thank Christ, reinforcements. We’re saved. Some do-gooder neighbor had dialed 911 and sent in pest control. Des peeked out from behind the couch cushion she was currently holding over her head and was immediately hit in the face with a bird. “Ow! God damn!” She seized it in both hands and found Peggy, who’d mysteriously escaped his net again and gotten back into the room apparently just to inconvenience her. “Aw, hell! You again!”

Wrapping her scarf around the blackbird, knuckles bleeding from fending off angry avians and jumping off kitchen appliances, Des stiffly clambered to her feet. Glass crunched under her boots as she made her way over to the Scooby Squad, who were in animated discussion with one another. “Are y’all players?” They ignored her, since she wasn’t a cartoon villain about to give a closing monologue. Goddammit.

“…But this doesn’t seem like an aboriginal burial ground…”

“That’s because it’s not. Remember the message the priest gave us?”

They all gasped in tandem.

“I knew it! These were Ravencroft’s spirit summons all along—good thing they were so distracted, or we would have fallen right into their trap!”

“…Of course! It all makes sense now!”

“What the hell is going on...” Destiny gave up trying to understand this mystery that some other do-gooders had apparently already solved and limped across the room to check on the farm couple. They were both covered with nicks and scratches from the crows, but didn’t look as banged up as they could have been. The one whose bonds she’d sawed through had been trying to untie her husband before the flock had descended. She’d taken cover behind the grandfather clock and peeked out now. Destiny gave her a thumbs-up as she untied the farmer and offered him her hand, helping him to his feet.

“Here you go, ma’am, these folks will explain everything,” Destiny said, pointing at the light-tinkerers. Now that those beams weren’t going off left and right, her eyes had adjusted a little bit. Where’d Philadelphia go? She’d lost track of him in the chaos—had he and Freedom jumped out the window and gone chasing after the crows?

That seemed likely until she spotted him laying flat on his back next to a wall. Destiny let out a hoarse sigh and began to cross the room, almost tripping on the carpet. “You all right, bird boy? Hell, that was sure…” The Yladian trailed off. Her steps faltered. The shadow Philadelphia had been laying in had begun to move, stretching out from either side like dusk shadows. Glowing eyes reopened from the two forms.

Des leapt backwards onto the couch, nearly tipping it over in her effort to get behind it. "There! Over there!" The piece of furniture wobbled on its edge as she let out a yell and pointed at the rising spirits, phasing through Philadelphia. Do something, ghostbusters!

 

Philadelphia, the self-proclaimed King of Eagles, was on the verge of crying, his eye the laser beam hit tearing up terribly. He failed to notice his saviors, their saviors, or to him, the scavengers that stole his win. He was already preoccupied with feeling all that pain of getting one of his eyeballs struck by pure light, reflected as it might have been.

Sure, it wasn’t as painful as getting stabbed in a dark alleyway in the middle of the night while on a pizza run, or giving birth to a healthy baby boy that years from now would end up raiding a school as part of some collection of villainous rogues, but Philadelphia’s pain was his own. It was valid. Or something like that. Freedom couldn’t believe her eyes as she hovered right next to the window that Philadelphia crashed in. “Caw caw!” (Why the fowl are you crying now? Did @Destiny Divebird finally dump you?)

Before Philadelphia could answer the eagle familiar, his loving girlfriend and future wife made her presence heard. It was her voice that he wanted to hear, her voice that could soothe the painful pain he was suffering from at that very moment until only bird god knows when. Destiny Divebird was his anchor, his muse, his cure from all the bad things in the world, and oh, shit, she’s close, she’s so freakin’ close, quick, Phil, act like you weren’t crying just a few seconds ago, like you’re a macho king of a superior avian race, like you’re not you.

“I’m fine, birby,” Philadelphia feigned, a grin on his face, one eye closed, watery, filled with tears, some of it streaking down the side of his face. He could feel it, and if he was any smarter, he’d know she could see it, too, but he wasn’t, so he just ignored the tears welling up in his eye, pretending that he was a-okay. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

But then Destiny leapt backwards, which surprised Philadelphia, so much so that he screamed like a girl. A warrior girl. A warrior princess. He screamed again when the two ghost things rose from beneath him, through him, and the King of Eagles could do nothing else but instinctively put both hands on his chest, where the ghost things phased through from, hoping he was still as solid as his love for Destiny. He was, but it didn’t make him feel any better. “OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG AM I DEAD DID THEY KILL ME THEY PASSED RIGHT THROUGH ME WHAT THE FINGERLICKING CHICKEN ARE THOSE THINGS”

“Over there, gang!” one of the masked strangers, their saviors really, pointed at the two ghost things. Quicker than Philadelphia could say his own name, the two other strangers pointed their laser beam crossbow thingies along with their third member and started firing but to no avail. The two ghost things flew all around the house, causing all kinds of chaos, spooking even Freedom, before flying straight out the door. “They’re getting away!”

“LET THEM GET AWAY!” Philadelphia screamed like a warrior princess once again.

The light-firing trio gave chase but the two ghost things were fast. They almost got away, too, if it hadn’t been for another meddling kid, a scrawny blonde guy in a green shirt and his brown dog, the latter catching one of the ghost things right out of the air with its mouth. The dog was wearing some sort of mouthpiece that prevented the caught ghost was escaping further, not even getting the chance to phase out of that mouth. The other ghost thing, distracted by the capture of its friend, ended up captured, too, by the scrawny blonde guy in the green shirt using some sort of net that looked oddly like it was made from the same material as the dog’s mouthpiece.

“Zoinks! Looks like we got ‘em, Dooby!” the scrawny blonde guy in the green shirt said, as the light-firing trio approached him and his dog. “This calls for booby snacks!”

"What," Philadelphia, for once, was speechless. Well, save for that one word. And maybe the four others that immediately followed. "The peck just happened?!"

 

Well, there you had it, folks. The doobies had boobied, snacks and justice were served, and the spooks were expunged from the farm couple’s living room. Exorcised. Hell, whatever the word was, the bastards were gone and Des could finally pop her pointy-eared head up from behind the couch. Coast’s clear! She got to her feet, pushing herself off the ground with one palm. Her body ached from ricocheting off every damn wall and cabinet in the building. She felt like a damn ping-pong ball getting slapped back and forth after that whole experience.

@Philadelphia looked… intact. And not possessed. It occurred to Destiny that hiding behind the couch might have looked pretty cowardly to some, but instinct had overruled her safety concerns in this particular case. She was spooked, all right? That was the whole point of ghosts—to scare people. Besides, it wasn’t hiding, it was just… y’know, seeking cover. Any FPS game had a bunch of barricades to crouch behind while you were loading up your guns or your crossbows or whatever-the-hell, no sense letting the enemy get a free shot at you if you could put something between yourself and them. That was all she’d done. Sure, the ghosts didn’t have guns, but other people did (even if they were standing behind her and they were technically laser-devices) and—anyway, Phil looked fine and the laser-squad were all outside with their dog, so everyone was happy and Des was exhausted.

“Summons in custody!” She could hear the cheering from the open, broken window. “We should take this back to the priest as evidence right away. Good job, team!” There was a group cheer that sounded like something out of a promotional team-building exercise. Still clutching a blackbird in her scarf, Des picked her way across the room to stand by Philadelphia instead, confused and sore as hell but… mm, pretty much still just that. Confused and sore as hell.

“Mm. I got a feeling that was a Quest Fail,” Des said casually as if they hadn’t just been chased by ghosts, crows, and child detectives. Since she didn’t have a notification on her palm menu, didn’t seem like it’d gone one way or another. The Terrasphere gods didn’t know what to make of it either, huh? Well, that seemed fair. The King of Eagles summed it up and the Yladian found herself repeating it, dazed expression regaining a little light. “The peck just happened...” She echoed the Beast Tamer. A grin eased its way onto her face and she set her scarf on the windowsill, letting the folds fall away from the one-legged songbird. It struggled out and flew away immediately with absolutely no trace of friendliness or gratitude. Aw, hell! But again, fair enough.

Well, one thing was for sure—her hunger and energy meters were tanking, and even if it was just a game, that just meant she was in an even sorrier state back home. The limping farm couple were alive, their evil spirit antagonists had been successfully contained, and the crows were—well, a bunch were still dead, but maybe they'd take the hint and find themselves some new nesting grounds. “Arright, bird boy—Freedom, you too—good day today! Worked up an appetite. I gotta make myself some dinner. Hang in there, all right?” Patting the shell-shocked fellow on the shoulder, Destiny pulled up her palm menu and began the signing-off process.

“See ya.” Her image dimmed, fading altogether. Cheshire cat-like, the trace of a grin remained for a moment as the logout completed. “Wouldn’t wanna beak ya.”

EXIT​