‘Ello Love, sorry if this is a night random but about that Drabble when reader tried to help the horsemen and death lost it for some reason and War and Fury had to stop him while Strife sneaked off with reader who was scared, what happened? Are you going to continue? Sorry if this sounds rude I’m just really curious
Howdy there friend! To be honest, I wasn’t going to - I’ve been toying with the idea to archive for a while, actually. I still love the fandom, don’t get me wrong, I’ve jut had a bit of a falling out with inspiration to keep the blog running. But you asked so nicely, I just have to finish!
You’re still in the barn when the evening rolls around. Strife still has his arms around you, he’s still talking away, but you just can’t shake the sounds of earlier from your mind. It doesn’t help that the language clings to your ear, humming like a fading note in the air. But your stomach growls, very pointedly, and you struggle from Strife’s arms until he gets the hint, standing with a quickness even as he pulls on the scabbed-over wounds littering his sides.
“You’re not getting out of that,” you remind him as your gaze flits to his sides, brief but firm. He rumbles something, again, and your eyes tingle. You rub them, blinking away the odd sensation as you and he tentatively return to the silent house. “It,” you tried as you opened the door, choking on the tightness in your throat. “It’s me.”
Dead silence. Even the A/C has shut up for once in its functioning, not that you could appreciate it. Anger and hurt hang like a quilt, heavy, oppressive. You hate it. Shaking the sensation off like cobwebs, you march yourself into the kitchen and pull out a few cans of beans and corn. They go into a pot with other things, and in no time you have a helping of tortilla soup cradled in your hands.
Strife sniffs at it when you aren’t looking and fishes a strip of chicken from your bowl. “Strife!” You admonish after seeing the liquid ripple, weakly smacking his chest as he leans over your shoulder. He grins, then devours the chicken, smacking his lips before he starts to talk.
“Are you alright?” He asks, voice carrying a foreign burr from his time speaking, and you blink.
“Physically? Yeah. Emotionally and mentally? Could... could be a lot better.” The bowl clicks against the tiles as you set it down. “I’m just... so confused, Strife.”
“Maybe I can explain.” You jolt, banging your knee on the underside of the table before whipping around. In the doorway, Fury hovered, glowing eyes gentled from prior in the day. “Join me, please.” Awkwardly, you grab your bowl - and the wayward first aid kit, forgotten on the floor. Fingers hesitate before curling around the handle, and Strife follows behind you with a glass in his hand, sipping from it as he sits opposite Fury. She patted the space in front of her, pillows arranged to form a nest. Deeply, you inhale, then let it out as an explosive sigh.
Sitting, you lean back, pulling your knees to your chest while holding the soup like a precious treasure. “What happened?” Immediately, you wince, and worry your lower lip with pointed teeth. Insert foot in mouth, when step one is complete fall into stupid-induced awkward silence. You noisily slurp on the soup to cover up your embarrassment, and jolt when something warm touches your head. Yep, Fury.
“Sometimes,” Fury deliberated, carding her fingers through your hair. “Sometimes, Death sees... shades, of things long past. He cannot help it - I’ve suspected it has something to do with his necromantic entanglements.” Her tail flicks quietly. “Whatever you did, he saw the shade. You frightened him.”
“Me?” You look down at your clawless hands, still gripping the bowl delicately, brow furrowed. “What can I do to scare one of the Horsemen? I’m just a little human...”
“You are not ‘just’ anything,” Fury frowns. “You are our friend.” She drops one hand to cup both of yours, so delicate and childish in the grip of a supernatural being. “Death... goes to another spot, when he sees the shades. He went back in time to a bloody place when he saw you - it wasn’t you he feared, but someone else. That is why he lashed out, dearest.”
Your cheeks inflate, then deflate as you let out a stuffy sounding whoosh of air. “Is... Is he okay?” You nervously glance around. If Fury snuck up on you...
“War took him for a training session at the back of the property.” Immediately, you’re soothed, and you flop back against her. “The physical strain grounds him.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“N- well...” Strife pipes up from the other side, contemplative as he looks at you. “Maybe, squirt. Just maybe.” Nervously, you smile. Then you stiffen.
“Why are you bleeding again.” Strife jumps up at the same time you do, and he races for the door. “Get back here you wimp, you need treating!”
