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Little Liarbird
Dabi hated lies.
He’d told a few, maybe several, maybe even a lot, as a kid. But so did many to him.
He’d told a few, maybe several, maybe even a lot, as a kid. But so did many to him.
Now he just refused to give others information, a ‘none of your business’ here, a ‘fuck off’ there. But when he did say something, it was usually the truth. Dabi liked to think he was a pretty honest person.
Hawks however, was a liar.
Hawks however, was a liar.
Dabi didn’t like to believe the majority of the crap that came out of that perfect little mouth, or what even stood in front of him. Perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect quirk, perfect person, perfect hero.
He had the two biggest symbols of freedom attached to his back, etched into his very skin, melded to the very fibre of his being within perfectly toned muscles.
Hawks was cocky, sure of himself, dreadfully confident even. Apparently his only flaw. Worse to Dabi though, he was a puppet. The proud hooded hunting hawk of the Hero Commission. It disgusted Dabi. No one man had that few flaws, that little cracks in their shell.
Hawks was a liar. If it weren’t for the bird features he would more likely point the hero out to be some sort of snake, shedding its skin, creating a new one, a new mask to suit its environment.
Dabi coughed as the dust began to clear as he wondered in between piles of rubble, remains of a freshly toppled building. Villain attack. Not his fault funnily enough.
Dabi was only in the area by pure coincidence, skulking around the less populated areas of the city, then this happened. He needed to get out of here, heroes would show up any moment, they may already be here, the clock was ticking.
So he keeps moving, quietly walking trying to find his way out of the aftermath of someone else’s clearly destructive quirk.
Pained whimpers and cries soon reach scarred ears and Dabi stops, heat itches under his palms as he looks around, ready to run or fight his way out. Instead he spots two very noticeable bright red appendages tucked against a familiar back.
The man is kneeling, another body is with him, head nestled on his lap.
The closer Dabi gets, the more red he can see, but not just from the hero’s back. There’s a sea of it, all around staining the cracked concrete and it isn’t long before the tang of copper permeates the villain’s nose.
Another chunk of concrete is stained in blood not far off, the hero must have moved it. A crimson feather harmlessly floats through the air and passes Dabi’s cheek, but it doesn’t deter his slow advance.
The man in Hawks’ lap is in hysterics, rasping about how much he doesn’t want to die, he still has a family to look after, his wife and a beautiful baby girl who’s still waiting on daddy to come home from work.
Dabi is no fool, with injuries like those, the man’s a goner, there’s more blood out than in.
The man suddenly turns calm, and Dabi can hear hushed whispers, a woman’s honeyed words loving caress the dying man’s ears, it wasn’t your fault, their girl will be alright, you did your best.
Only it’s Hawks’ ungloved hand clasped around his. It’s Hawks’ jaw and soft lips forming the woman’s sweet nothings. The civilian in his lap’s gaze was unfocused, Dabi doubted he could even see honestly.
The man was losing his battle fast but you could see in his face that he hung onto every. Single. Word.
“I love you.”
Tears ran down the man’s face but his smile was bright, soft and gentle.
He took a deep breath.
He slowly exhaled with more peace than Dabi had known his entire life.
His chest stilled and his grip on Hawks hand slacked.
He was gone.
He took a deep breath.
He slowly exhaled with more peace than Dabi had known his entire life.
His chest stilled and his grip on Hawks hand slacked.
He was gone.
Dabi released his own breath he didn’t even know he was holding. For someone so used to the shadow of death overhanging his entire being and bringing death in turn, this encounter threatened to strip him bare.
Watching something so deeply intimate harshly tugged at feelings deep down in the cold crevices of his heart Dabi thought he had burned away along with half of his missing skin.
Another feather gently caressed his chin, snapping him back to reality. He found himself locking eyes with Hawks, who’s own were glassy, yet his cheeks remained unblemished. He was standing now with the civilian in his arms, eyes closed in permanent slumber.
“Follow the feather, it’ll lead you out” His voice was thick with emotion Dabi couldn’t describe, but unwavering and back in a far familiar tone. Dabi couldn’t even reply before wings spread and he took off into the sky, a little angel of death.
Dabi hated lies.
But he thinks he could forgive it, just this once.
But he thinks he could forgive it, just this once.
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A take on a ‘what if’ Hawks had the bird trait to mimic any sound/voice, based of the beautiful lyrebird <3
A take on a ‘what if’ Hawks had the bird trait to mimic any sound/voice, based of the beautiful lyrebird <3
