10 hours ago
The winter air outside Belizna made the lungs hurt to suck it in. It was a dry cold, but there was no snow on the ground. Only a slick of frost blanketed everything, turning churned up mud and work equipment into a beautiful but eerie landscape. By the time he was outside, the warmth of his morning coffee was long gone. His breaths plumed white on each exhale, but the morning sunlight was thin. It felt like the day before a snowstorm, though none was forecasted.
Jay adjusted the strap of a heavy wool coat. He secretly wished for his Dominon’s jacket, which was designed for this kind of work, but it was left behind in the city. Instead his movements were stiff, like every joint needed extra grease. Inside the confines of the fiberglass cast, his right forearm throbbed with a dull, rhythmic heat in an obnoxious contrast to the weather. He kept his left hand shoved deep into his pocket, curling his fingers against the cold as he walked the perimeter toward the estate’s primary gate.
A couple of technicians were huddled around the massive, automated steel housing of the gate, consulting a diagnostic tablet and swearing low under their breath. The overnight freeze had seized the motorized gears solid, locking the heavy iron bars half-open and snarling the morning logistics.
"Morning, Jay," the lead technician, a sharp-eyed woman in a tailored utility jacket, murmured without looking up from her screen. "Thing’s completely iced through. Motor’s throwing a temperature fault because the track’s fused. We’re going to have to manually bypass the failsafes."
Jay offered a measured, easy smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes just enough to look entirely natural. He let his posture relax into an illusion of casual camaraderie, leaning his shoulder against the brick pillar. He was no boss around here despite having showed up with Natalie (and sleeping in the same room as her), but he’d been helpful enough in unexpected ways these past few days that when someone had the idea to text him, he showed up.
He scanned the mechanism, piecing through the hundreds of times he’d worked various engines in bad weather on the ranch. Short of drenching the thing in antifreeze and a prayer, he knew they were shit out of luck. With a massive delivery scheduled to arrive at noon, if the road was blocked, it would throw off a bunch of work schedules that he doubted would put Natalie in a good mood.
“Sure, not a problem. Just, uh, give me a minute.” It was a smooth lie, rolled out with the casual grace of a man entirely secure in his domestic life.
She’d be better off if you vanished, a cold, quiet voice whispered in the back of his mind.
He swallowed the thought down, the smile remaining firmly pinned to his face. The truth was a rotting weight in his chest: he loved her, but she was brilliant, vibrant, and moving upward, while he was increasingly becoming a cracked anchor dragging her into the deep. She deserves a clean break. Someone whole.
"Right," the technician sighed, gesturing to a heavy manual override lever protruding from the frozen machinery box. "Well, if you want to give us a hand throwing that override, it might break the frost-seal. Though with the cast..." She glanced pointedly at Jay’s cast with professional sympathy.
He shook his head. He could literally rip the gate out of the ground and toss it in the lake, but that rather defeated the purpose of a gate in the first place. So he seized hold of the power to try something a bit more finessed.
“Might want to take a few steps back,” Jay murmured, his tone dropping an octave, losing its performative warmth.
The technician blinked, surprised by the sudden edge in his voice, waved at the others, and they collectively took a few steps away.
He drew out a thin tendril of raw fire, guiding it straight into the frozen iron mechanics. To the professionals watching, Jay merely pressed his palm flat against the housing and exhaled a slow breath into the cold air. It was a phantom touch. It was a delicate balance to disperse enough to melt the ice but not so much to melt the whole housing.
Inside the sealed box, the micro-layers of ice flash began to melt, the expanding vapor hissing through the seams. With a sharp, metallic clack that made both technicians flinch, the seized gears violently unlatched. The iron gate slid smoothly backward along its track, gliding open on silent rollers until it hit the stop.
The lead technician stared from the open gate to Jay, her eyes narrowing slightly as she checked her diagnostic tablet, which immediately green-lit the system status. She searched the lines of Jay’s face for any sign of sweat or strain. There was none. Jay merely pulled his hand back, sliding it back into his coat pocket with an air of mild, unbothered expectation.
“Well?” Jay asked, his voice entirely level, though a faint, electric hum still prickled beneath his skin. “Did the trick?”
“Fuck yeah it did the trick," she stammered, casting one more uneasy, bewildered look at the gate and then at him.
“Alright. What’s next?” He smirked like a tool happy to be used.
Jay adjusted the strap of a heavy wool coat. He secretly wished for his Dominon’s jacket, which was designed for this kind of work, but it was left behind in the city. Instead his movements were stiff, like every joint needed extra grease. Inside the confines of the fiberglass cast, his right forearm throbbed with a dull, rhythmic heat in an obnoxious contrast to the weather. He kept his left hand shoved deep into his pocket, curling his fingers against the cold as he walked the perimeter toward the estate’s primary gate.
A couple of technicians were huddled around the massive, automated steel housing of the gate, consulting a diagnostic tablet and swearing low under their breath. The overnight freeze had seized the motorized gears solid, locking the heavy iron bars half-open and snarling the morning logistics.
"Morning, Jay," the lead technician, a sharp-eyed woman in a tailored utility jacket, murmured without looking up from her screen. "Thing’s completely iced through. Motor’s throwing a temperature fault because the track’s fused. We’re going to have to manually bypass the failsafes."
Jay offered a measured, easy smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes just enough to look entirely natural. He let his posture relax into an illusion of casual camaraderie, leaning his shoulder against the brick pillar. He was no boss around here despite having showed up with Natalie (and sleeping in the same room as her), but he’d been helpful enough in unexpected ways these past few days that when someone had the idea to text him, he showed up.
He scanned the mechanism, piecing through the hundreds of times he’d worked various engines in bad weather on the ranch. Short of drenching the thing in antifreeze and a prayer, he knew they were shit out of luck. With a massive delivery scheduled to arrive at noon, if the road was blocked, it would throw off a bunch of work schedules that he doubted would put Natalie in a good mood.
“Sure, not a problem. Just, uh, give me a minute.” It was a smooth lie, rolled out with the casual grace of a man entirely secure in his domestic life.
She’d be better off if you vanished, a cold, quiet voice whispered in the back of his mind.
He swallowed the thought down, the smile remaining firmly pinned to his face. The truth was a rotting weight in his chest: he loved her, but she was brilliant, vibrant, and moving upward, while he was increasingly becoming a cracked anchor dragging her into the deep. She deserves a clean break. Someone whole.
"Right," the technician sighed, gesturing to a heavy manual override lever protruding from the frozen machinery box. "Well, if you want to give us a hand throwing that override, it might break the frost-seal. Though with the cast..." She glanced pointedly at Jay’s cast with professional sympathy.
He shook his head. He could literally rip the gate out of the ground and toss it in the lake, but that rather defeated the purpose of a gate in the first place. So he seized hold of the power to try something a bit more finessed.
“Might want to take a few steps back,” Jay murmured, his tone dropping an octave, losing its performative warmth.
The technician blinked, surprised by the sudden edge in his voice, waved at the others, and they collectively took a few steps away.
He drew out a thin tendril of raw fire, guiding it straight into the frozen iron mechanics. To the professionals watching, Jay merely pressed his palm flat against the housing and exhaled a slow breath into the cold air. It was a phantom touch. It was a delicate balance to disperse enough to melt the ice but not so much to melt the whole housing.
Inside the sealed box, the micro-layers of ice flash began to melt, the expanding vapor hissing through the seams. With a sharp, metallic clack that made both technicians flinch, the seized gears violently unlatched. The iron gate slid smoothly backward along its track, gliding open on silent rollers until it hit the stop.
The lead technician stared from the open gate to Jay, her eyes narrowing slightly as she checked her diagnostic tablet, which immediately green-lit the system status. She searched the lines of Jay’s face for any sign of sweat or strain. There was none. Jay merely pulled his hand back, sliding it back into his coat pocket with an air of mild, unbothered expectation.
“Well?” Jay asked, his voice entirely level, though a faint, electric hum still prickled beneath his skin. “Did the trick?”
“Fuck yeah it did the trick," she stammered, casting one more uneasy, bewildered look at the gate and then at him.
“Alright. What’s next?” He smirked like a tool happy to be used.
Only darkness shows you the light.