[Private] - Does Everybody In The World Have To Die

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Peaches mixed a drink for his latest customers while glaring across the bar at his enemy. The ass he'd have to work with because their souls were now tied together. Some dumb curse and all because they pissed off the wrong witch. The tension in the air was palpable, even to the laughing patrons. They kept joking that he and that one should get a room already.

Oh how Peaches WISHED they had a room so he could lock them up and throw away the fucking key so he wouldn't have to deal with this curse. But nope, some dumb magic and now, they couldn't go more than 500 feet from each other, injuring the other injured yourself, and worst of all, Peaches couldn't fly because the ass was landbound. Like some convoluted, sick version of a get along shirt.

Peaches smiled at the customers and continued mixing drinks, washing glasses, and flirting with the regulars. Just thirty more minutes and they could figure this shit out. He'd have left earlier or even taken the day off, but a third of his coworkers were sick and he didn't want to be the reason the bar was short-staffed. Especially not for....him.

Across the bar he could see the artist getting frustrated at the pencil he was holding, and seeing his anger gave Peaches a moment of satisfaction. The two shouldn't even be stuck together, the artist who didn't even like the bar, and the bartender who had an aversion to museums because modern art gave him a headache.

The clock seemed to go slower and slower as it neared the end of his shift, and Peaches sighed internally while smiling at college students and alcoholics. Soon they'd leave and figure this out, and he'd never have to see Cyrus or his dumb sketchpad again.

Shift over, Peaches slid his paws into his pockets and strolled out from behind the counter, falling into place next to Cyrus as they left the bar.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Peaches didn't have to work for the next two days, as the bar was closed on Sundays and Mondays. He'd been looking forward to the day off, but spending it with Cyrus? He'd rather take more extra shifts at the bar.

He sighed as the two of them walked, they needed to make a plan but first, one of them would have to talk. And I don't want to talk to this asshole if I can help it. The late night's streetlamps illuminated the road in flickering patches, and Peaches' wings quivered slightly. Normally he just flew home like a lumbering savage but that witch....

"Bitch."

Peaches looked up at his companion in momentary confusion. He'd almost forgotten Cyrus could talk.

"I'm afraid, not you, this time. You're more of an asshole or a cunt, though you lack the warmth and depth to be either. I was thinking about that bitch who cursed us, and how I'm going to rip her throat out."

Peaches noted the irritation in his companion's face and grinned sharply. "Now that I consider it though, it would be a mite easier just killing you, since you're here. Alas, I do not think that would solve our issues, as then I'd probably have to carry around your body for a long while."

Guessing the artist would lash out, Peaches lept up, balancing daintily on one of the fences lining the road. The curse might keep him from flying, but he was still good at jumping. He wondered for a moment if he could jump to the top of a lightpost if he used his wings for traction, that wouldn't technically be flying, right?

On the other paw, he probably would fall on his face, and he didn't want the little ass laughing at him, so instead he stayed perched on the fence.

"Either way, our priority is breaking the curse, so I suggest we find a motel to sleep in, unless you feel like letting me into your home."

Peaches grinned down from the fence. "Ah, so you're letting me say in your place, hmm? What next, spooning? A honeymoon? A trip to Vegas?"

Peaches continued walking beside Cyrus, balancing on the fence and grinning at the night. He had to admit, there was a slight curiosity to see what the artist's apartment looked like.

"As for curse-breakers, that's a good idea, I guess, but you're not going to like the ones I know."

As the fence ended, Peaches lept down gracefully, twirling like a dancer as he landed and winking at Cyrus (just to be annoying).

Peaches stared at the shut door for half a second and shrugged. A shut door was the perfect opportunity to test the limits of the curse, because 500 feet...either he'd be unable to walk farther, or the spell would drag Cyrus into a wall or door.

And Peaches suspected he was the stronger of the two, so it would be interesting to see what happened. 500 feet was what, a block? Two blocks? and he'd seen the apartment roofs as they'd come to the building, calling his name. And the stairs had a lovely sign, "Roof access".

The trip to the roof was quick, and the night wind ruffled Peaches' fur nicely. He grinned and looking back at the door (propped open with an abandoned brick), he jumped to the next roof over. He really hoped Cyrus got yanked into a wall before Peaches himself got stopped by the limit of the curse, but either way, this jumping was like flying, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it until Cyrus (or the curse) managed to stop him.

Peaches reached the limit far too soon. Frowning, he glanced at the edge of the roof in front of him, conveniently equipped with a guardrail to pull himself forward. Holding on tightly, he started pulling his body forward along the rail, feeling the extra weight of Cyrus and the spell.

The edge of the roof beckoned like flight, only a few stories up, he'd definitely survive the fall unscathed, even unable to fly. Peaches casually wondered if Cyrus was pissed off yet, as he pulled the last few feet and onto the other side of the rail, not even needing to hold on as the spell pinned him to the edge, almost painfully.

He grinned down at the ground below, the guardrail an aching throb in his back, and waited, knowing that even trying, Cyrus couldn't pull him thanks to the metal and brick now holding Peaches in place. However, if the artist came looking for him...

Peaches wrapped one paw casually around a rail, feeling the dull thud of his heartbeat pounding where the metal pushed against his back, tail, and arms. This was fine.

Peaches felt the sudden slack in the curse and grinned. Would it be enough?

Tensing for a second, Peaches tried jumping to the next roof, only five feet away, a paltry distance. His landing was rough, the curse trying to yank him back into a fall, but quick reflexes born of flying helped him catch the edge of the building to pull himself up and over. This roof was nice, a brick lip running around the edge, some sort of rooftop garden, and a perfect view of the stars.

Laying next to the brick edge, Peaches watched the sky glitter and yawned. With the wall to keep him from being yanked back by the fluffy little asshole, he watched sleepily as the stars danced overhead, feathery clouds drifting over the sky like dreams. At this point, Cyrus would either have to come find him or wait until Peaches awoke because the bat winged bartender was drifting, drifting....asleep, lit by the moon, stars, and not much else. The perfect place to rest until Cyrus was done being an ass.

Peaches continued to nap, nestled gently in the comfort of the wall.

He dreamt of flying. Freedom, soaring over the city, the stars and sun dancing with him in the sky. The soft damp of clouds when you flew through them, like walking through thick fog. The cold. The fur raising pure cold of the sky, like a promise to your wings.

Freedom.

The sensation of getting hit lightly with a pebble made Peaches flutter his eyes and roll over.

"Just five more minutes," he grumbled, putting his paws over his ears, and wrapping his wings around himself like a baby bat.

Under his paw, he barely opened an eye so he could watch Cyrus, the stupid artist staring at him. He wasn't going to stop being annoying if the other was going to lock him outside, and plus, this spot was comfortable.