hymn for the missing [r]

[ROWAN FOLEY]

Music blared and lights flashed brightly above Rowan's head, causing the redhead to wake with a pained groan. He couldn't decide which concerned him more, that his head felt as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to it (except that would mean he'd be dead), or the fact that, once his eyes had cracked open and adjusted to the painful light, he didn't recognize where he was. Fuck. There was a sudden feeling of anxiety in the redhead's gut, but he pushed it aside for a moment to study the situation. Okay, bright lights and loud music meant either a club or the fair, and considering the echo of the footsteps, he'd say the fair. The problem was that he couldn't remember coming to the fair, and even through his aching head, he knew he'd be able to recall something like that. It was how his eidetic memory worked; he didn't have a choice in the matter.

It was when Rowan tried to lift a hand to rub at the pain in his temple that he realized he was in a shitload of trouble. His wrists met with sturdy resistance, not steel, but some expertly tied rope, which would mean he couldn't pick the lock. Suddenly wide awake, he jerked a couple more times before letting his arms go limp; there was no point in rubbing his wrists raw for something completely impossible. New analysis of the situation was required, now, though. He had already established he was under the fairgrounds, but where exactly was negotiable. Who even had access to this area? Maintenance workers was the most likely answer, although there was the possibility that someone had gotten a hold of one of the keys in a different way. Either way, this was most definitely not the ideal situation.

What exactly had happened? The last thing Rowan remembered was searching the back alleys for one of his missions. He had been looking in a dumpster, which this particular demon was notorious for hiding within, when he heard a muffled thud behind him. He had whirled around, only for everything to go black a moment later. He remembered distinctly the worry he had felt, the reason he had turned around so quickly in the first place, but why? Why had he felt that? Then an image popped into his head, one of a certain black-haired male bickering with him in the alleyway about not going anywhere near the dumpsters a moment before.

Hoen.

Acid green eyes closed as it all came together in Rowan's head, the images crystal clear now. He and Hoen had been assigned a mission together, which wasn't very bizarre. In fact, things had been pretty boring before the dumpster argument. Rowan had been pretty quiet, only exchanging a few snarky replies with Hoen while his mind was otherwise occupied. It wasn't a new circumstance, in fact happened quite often when the redhead was around his best friend; he just grew way too comfortable with the other man. They had eventually come to the agreement that Rowan would be the one to dig in the dumpsters, but only after the younger male had accused the redhead of being too feminine to handle it. Asshole. Speaking of, if that thud he had heard was Hoen, where was he?

Opening his eyes far enough to squint against the bright lights, Rowan used his feet to search around him. They were shackled together, instead of rope like his hands, but their range of movement was far greater in this position than his hands' would be. He kicked out a few times, although softly in case he accidentally his something like Hoen's face or nonexistant balls, only to feel nothing but thin air. With a sigh, he let his head fall back against the cool stone of the wall, eyes slipping shut. He was slightly majorly concerned over Hoen's well-being, not that he'd ever admit it, but wasting his energy trying to find the idiot would do him no good.Grumbling slightly, Rowan shifted enough so his arms weren't pinned behind him. "This situation is far too familiar for my sanity."

[HOEN KELEVRA]

There he was in a forties male swim suit, longish tank-top with horizontal stripes and short-shorts. His olive skin bounced moon beams, black hair was pulled into pig-tails and he was in the desert, a vastly barren desert. From the sand a thousand crabs crawled up and carried him forward—to a destination unknown. Apparently it wasn’t far considering that these superhuman critters tossed him to his butt. From the sand before him drew up a tigers head, fatted lips shifted back and forth, tongue lolled about as the scratching sound that accompanied was more of nails on a board. “HOEN!” a distorted howl, somewhere between the sound of his mother’s voice, Rowan’s and a banshee barked out at him. “Wake up! WAKE! UP!” Its mouth opened up wide, as the jowls unhinged to expel a flood gate of water that doused him efficiently. He felt like he was suffocating, and that jolted him back to the situation at hand.

Hoen flailed against the ground like a fist out of water, thrashed about as if he had no sense at all. Shoulders felt like they were about to get ripped from the sockets, and his head pounded like there was a series of bass drums going at it in competition. “Oi oi…” he struggled to sit up, and when he couldn’t move his hands he started to get irritated. “Who the hell tied me up! ” Obviously oblivious “Come on out! Show yourself! ” eyes stared up at the inky blackness, which was only subsided when the faint lights bled through. He really didn’t care where he was, he vaguely remembered what happened before he got here. From his perspective it wasn’t so bad, him and Rowan were searching for some clues to point them in the right direction for a mission.

Hone had mentioned in passing, not even really complaining that he was the one that did the dirty work, and Rowan spent time looking pretty for the ladies. Not like it mattered, he was going to try and goad Rowan into getting into the dumpster in the first place. However, it didn’t take that long, nor did it seem that farfetched—as the redhead climbed into the metal container. That was when it went black, actually it went black after he said. “What if we got mugged right now?”

Yup, count on him to bring bad juju into the mix. It would be ok if he knew where Rowan was, if he was here the little one had to be nearby. Then again maybe he didn’t want to know where Rowan was, because he obviously knew Hoen was the first to go down. It wasn’t even the fact that he was first, this just omitted Rowan from any teasing that Hoen saved his life years and years ago. Now he was in this situation, alone; or at least almost alone until he heard the whisper, something familiar and faint.

“This situation is almost too familiar for my sanity. ”

Hoen’s head whipped to where that voice came from. “Who is there!” it didn’t seem too far off, so there had to be someone at least four feet away from him. “Rowan? ” Concern laced his words, because if it was Rowan he had to figure out how to get them out of here. “Rowan is that you? Did you figure out how to get out of here yet? ” he assumed that his comrade had been awake for hours, and that he was the only one stuck to the floor with hands tied behind his back. Silently he prayed that he wasn’t here with some demon rapist, that had a thing for awesome gunslingers.

[ROWAN FOLEY]

Okay, so it didn't really matter that Rowan was still trying to wriggle his wrists out of the knots keeping them bound; they were raw, and it would likely only get worse, but he knew he would manage it eventually. Hell, one of his foster parents had gotten rid of him because they said he was far too much like a contortionist, although that was definitely an exaggeration. He was certainly quite flexible, but he preferred to keep his joints in place, thank you very much. With a wince, he felt the knots loosen a bit, although there still wasn't enough slack for him to wrestle himself free. With a curse, he tugged violently on one hand, and although it hurt like hell, he could feel the rope give way just enough for him to start maneuvering his wrists through the rope. He tried to ignore the fact that it felt as though he had ripped off a layer of skin, and he would likely have a few scars on his wrists there for a couple weeks... Fantastic. Just another thing to explain to his therapist.

Just the thought of the annoying man made Rowan huff. He certainly didn't believe he needed a therapist, even if deep down, really, really, really deep down, he knew there was something wrong with his mentality. Whatever. This situation was digging up some memories from his brain, ones he had purposefully filed away where he likely wouldn't look. He hadn't forgotten; no, he would never be allowed that particular blessing. There was the image of a dark, sweltering cell, clear as day to him even now, and if he had just a bit less control over his memories, he would have easily felt the discomfort and anxiety that he had experienced the last time this had happened. Yes, Rowan had been kidnapped, approximately two years, three months, two weeks and a day before this current predicament. Damn. He really hoped this wasn't becoming a trend.

Rowan's attention was snapped back to reality by the sound of angry shouting. Very familiar angry shouting. The redhead snorted and rolled his eyes; did Hoen honestly think that they'd untie him just because he asked? And he asked so very nicely, too. Rowan shook his head in exasperation; at least the idiot was safe, although how many brain cells the other had lost when he had been bashed over the head was anyone's guess. As was how long they would be safe in their present situation. "Hey Hoen, do you think you could possibly shut your trap for once in your life? Your incessant stupidity is making it hard to think."

[/b] With a sigh, Rowan finally managed to tug one of his wrists free, although it certainly wasn't without a pained hiss.

The rope fell away quite easily after that, and Rowan paused for a moment to check on the status of his wrists. Definitely torn up; a few trickles of blood were trying to escape down his arms, only to be nonchalantly wiped away on his exorcist uniform. He would deal with it later, and in the meantime he would just have to rely on his rather high pain tolerance. With a refreshed determination, he swung his legs just enough so he could see the lock shackling them together: steel and old. Damn, that meant it would be one of the trickier ones to pick. Rowan grumbled under his breath as he reached behind his head, grabbing one of the bobby-pins he kept safely tucked away in his hair. It wasn't girly, it was useful, no matter what Drew and Hoen told him. He wasn't a girl. Just slightly feminine looking.

As he struggled with the lock clasped around his ankles, acid green eyes couldn't help but roll in exasperation at his friend. Leaving everything to him again, was he? It was probably the safer idea; Rowan may have a lot of faith in Hoen, and although the other certainly had his moments, Rowan was by far the smarter of the two in his opinion. With a huff, he brushed a lock of red hair out of his eyes, careful not to move the pin, and then continued on with his lock-picking. "I'm kind of busy at the moment, Hoen. Would you mind being useful for once and try using those things in your head called eyes? Maybe you'll get lucky and see the way out."[/b][/div][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[HOEN KELEVRA]

There was a sense of calm, at least for a moment and while it wasn’t easy to admit, Hoen would have to tip his hat off to Rowan bailing them out of a good majority of the hairy situation. Sometimes he would get lucky, but sure enough Rowan was the man for the job nine times out of ten; mostly because of that blasted memory. Still it made him uneasy that they were duped so quickly, that could be worried about later—first they had to get out of this infernal pit. Where ever they were beneath or inside of the carnival, course it didn’t exactly help that he had to venture a guess where they were supposed to go. Without being able to work his way out too far, he tried to inch worm his way up the post and really listened to the world. Murmurs of people that were there to have a good time, and those of the workers who could or could not have been the ones that kidnapped them. Without stressing Rowan he paid attention here and there to the progress his little friend had started to make.

“Come one come all! Step right up, and I will guess your weight, height, and age!”
“Haha, do you think he really could do it?”
“Go for it hun.”

Hoen shook his head, listening just wouldn’t be enough there was so much going on. Loud bells, screaming from children, people talking and more, but there were some distinctive voices every so often. Shadows bled in from the far side of their prison, illuminated by a faint green flashing light that switched to red periodically. Two voices seemed to accompany that were very distinct “Rowan, I think we have company.” No sooner did he open his mouth did the two people walk in, both were gangly and had poor posture, and even without his hands he felt that he could take them both out quickly.

“Looks like they are awake huh?” one said to the other, yellow eyes, and carnie teeth “Took’em long enough aye?” Both of them pulled out two dull switch blades. Then divided the labor, one went towards Rowan, the other came to him (obviously). Confidence is what they seemed to radiate, to some extent they should be proud, grabbing two exorcists while they had been doing their job. However, maybe these two idiots were the reason why they were searching a ruddy trashcan to begin with.

Don’t make them angry; please just don’t make them angry, just keep your mouth shut. He could hear Rowan’s thoughts, but he couldn’t “Are you the two numbskulls that made a fine mess of this?” Leaning forward he tried to look as intimidating as possible; though he had the sneaking suspicion he looked like a broken palm tree. Tweedle-Dee that decided to stink of the petting zoo, and burnt pretzels put the dull edge of the blade to Hoen’s neck, and then leaned in nice and close.

“What of it?” No sooner did the bloke say that, did Hoen deliver a powerful headbutt square to the bridge of the nose. The demon took a few steps backwards, muffled curses spewed out into the air as he held the nose of the host. Blood decorated the ground in small splotches, Hoen had to try and keep the host damage to a minimum. He was well aware that these two were demons, but if he could at least get them to do half the work of setting him free there was a plus. Usefulness would keep Rowan from spreading spurious lies about how he stood around and didn’t do anything to help him out. A lazy swing with the blade while Hoen gloated in his own cunning, ended up with him being slashed just across the shoulder.

“Hey! Didn’t your ma tell you not to place with sharp toys?” He backed up against the pole, and tried to furiously work his own hands out of the bindings, if Rowan could do it so could he. Though he didn’t want to take as much time to gingerly work his hand out, instead he resulted to repeatedly smashing his hand against the wooden beam. Face contorted, obviously in pain, he would wait for the assailant to make another move and plan accordingly. “Come on you big ugly sonuva..”