ex·plo·sive

The way Bastion breathed and shuttered, cast his dark gaze to the ceiling, it tore through River’s heart. There was a complete war happening beneath the surface of his best friends skin. Plaguing his mind. The latter, being an entire world of it’s own that the son of Demeter hadn’t dared dive into. Pry. He just had to be here for Bash and take whatever the man was willing to give.

Giving didn’t seem like an option here. Bastion was spread thin. River had failed to see the man as weak in any form until now. When the haunting thought came to rattle Bash again, River decided to bridge the painful gap by scooting forward and bracing his friend in a warm hug. As if there was hope that his own arms could hold Bastion together. He wasn’t certain if an embrace like this would be a gesture Bash would accept between men, but their bond was solid enough that River felt safe to do this. Clearly, the other needed this.

“You don’t have to be alone.” River agreed, nodding against Bastion’s shoulder. “I’ll always be here for you. We can help each other.”

   -

  This moment seems meaningless, once again simple but if you knew the son of Hephaestus you’d know it wasn’t. Being able to count on one hand on who he’s allowed to hug him with out a stiff hand swatting them away was saying something---yet in this moment he welcomed the embrace without hesitation. 

   Normally Bastion flinched when it came to others touching him; needing a mental beat to prepare. Intimacy came in different shades for different people. As for the blacksmith he grew up using his words over his body to convey his feelings. That being said the minute River’s gentle arms wrapped around him, soft like a duvet, something washed over Bash. He snuggled in, "Who knew we’d be here after meeting in the under world..." replying softly, for the moment Bash married his arms around the other, squeezing a fraction tighter, as he allowed himself to breath more slowly, his body melting into River’s. “I promise the same, I’ll always be around if you need me.”

   The moment lingered for another few seconds, Bash’s hands brushed the back of River’s neck sweetly; allowing his senses to be flooded with the scent of wet soil before pulling away. “I uh...” with space filling between their bodies again, the smith-son continues to look back at River with a transparent stare, “I know I said this already but thank you for coming to see me. I feel a lot better now.” even if he wasn’t hundred percent there, it felt like he was starting at least.  

River hated himself for it, but he continued to stare. Wishful that his emotions conveyed in both expressive dark hazel eyes. When River looked, it wasn’t through a microscope. Like this was strange. He’d seen pain in many faces given that he was an older brother. Phases of trauma both superficial and true from young to old. He’d never mapped out a soldier, however.

So, despite the happiness River felt to be an exception for visitors, the son of Demeter still mouthed at his lower lip slightly. “Good. Good.” He sighed, trying his best to accept that confession for all it was on the surface. After doing so, River’s body relaxed more where he sat on the beds edge. “I can worry, but I don’t think it’s that simple anymore, you know? Like… seeing you after every quest is a complete blessing. So I’m glad too.”

They hadn’t lost lately, and had surfaced from Hell victorious, but River had to wonder when one of their lucky streaks would run dry. “You’re none of those things.” He replied, soft, “Even if you can’t convince yourself of that right now… you’re not.”

Sheepishly, River smiled, as if this were a talk they’d share on a regular day. “You’re brilliant, Bash. … We’ll get through this part. … You’re doing the right thing to take time for yourself.”

- 

  “I don’t think anything was meant to be simple after we joined.” Bastion replied like exhaling a bitter truth. Simple felt slow and easy, ever present and often forgotten. “Most days it’s exciting, we chose this new life after all...so it’s not like we can ask for pity but---” his chest rose with a hitched breath, as the rest of his words were lost in his throat. What Bastion would do for a day to feel simple; to walk around weightless of his godlyhood, to be seen as a mortal over a half blood. Was that wrong to feel? At times the smith-son kept those feelings buried withing his chest, though as of late those thoughts have resurfaced like quarters from your couch. 

   Even as the gloom clouded the room, permeating off of Bastion, it couldn’t fully suffocate the feelings that sparked from River admission. “Blessing is a bit of a stretch.” he admitted with a curved smile, “but I feel the same...I don’t know what I’d do if you were there with us...if--” his words trailed off, Bash wouldn’t allow himself to say it, instead his skittish fingers that played with the edge of his sheets found themselves subtly moving closer to River.                               some subconscious level he was reaching out.

    “Brilliant?” he coughed out, a bit flustered from the bold statement even if he secretly would relish in this later, at some point, when he wasn’t so disheveled. “---Come on King laying in on a bit thick” teasing, deflecting, mostly not believe the sincerity that came for the son of Demeter,  “but thank you, genuinely. I’m pretty use to time to myself but maybe..” his hands inching closer, “I don’t have to spend it all alone.” looking up into River’s eyes. 

-

There was no arguing there. Physically? It was Bastion Wick. Mentally? No–it was Nyx. It had to be her; the portal was the very same color as the darkness that washed over his eyes. Julian didn’t fare well when he was alone, conflicted with the Polish man’s death and its accident. While it wasn’t the same, he understood what it felt like to kill someone so–directly, without malice. His blood chilled to subzero degrees Bastion’s blood tried and again to heat, melt away like the foes from before. “I’d know it wasn’t you. I’d die knowing that it wasn’t you,” he whispered, heart lurching for those eyes. 

Julian tried to move Bastion up, tried to guide him close so he could more or less hold the man. Hug him, try to comfort him. He didn’t deserve to be alone with such turmoil. Julian’s shook his head, then brought his free hand over to thumb the tears. “Oh mijo,” he murmured. “We’re already dangerous, with our powers. Even healing can be dangerous. But what makes all of this work?” He thumbed another tear, giving him a tender smile, “You. Your ingenuity on quests, determination in the forge, and your inspiration in our house. We are dangerous things, but together we’re something better.” He quieted after a moment, just wanting to give Bastion time and open arms–if he wanted to let it all out.

-

With a touch it seemed that Bastion was reminded of himself, this sliver of hope that once burned brighter rather than a flicker. “knowing still feels like bullshit. if..if I can lose control like that, if we lose cause of---” he stops, keeping his body intertwined with Julian’s. The hug was a simple enough gesture - affectionate, a fragile breath of love hidden. Julian’s arms that held Bastion were gentle, yet firm. The feeling of his body so close to Bash soothed him more than he had expected, pressing deeper into the healer’s embrace. These past few days, lost in your own body, left the demigod feeling a bit strange. Almost hollowed as if a corner of his person had been chipped away yet he couldn’t pin point the origin. 

People don’t often yell at Yves deRose, so when it happens it makes an impression. “So you don’t want us to care?” he asks in his best imitation of a dumb blonde. Bash has a little bit of a breakdown, looking all sorts of miserable, and Yves lets him soak in for a long minute. “Deep breaths,” he advises, reaching over the table to stroke the demigod’s cheek. “It will be okay. You’ll remember when you need to. And if it really bugs you so much, you can always try to pray to your dad, ask him to help you remember. It’s what everyone does nowadays.”

    “No I meant---” Bash stammers for a second before quickly rolling his eyes. Hearing it come of out Yves’ lips like that seemed to enighted the smith-son, seeing how he might have twist up his words. “I know you all care, everyone cares so much...that’s the part that’s hard. I...you know me, I’m not comfortable with stuff like that.” When it came to Bastion it was hard for him to open, practically sharing his vulnerabilities like he was trading cards; strategic and calculated. It took a lot but with a soft touch and a teasing words, the son of Aphrodite always seemed to calm the forger, “Oh yeah...been there failed that.” he took another deep breath in and exhaled, “my father wasn’t in a chatty mood.” 

“I don’t go away that easily,” he started in a soft tone, kind smile across his features. He ached for that weak expression on Bastion’s face, something the smith son rarely wore–if at all. Julian leaned forward, resting a forearm on his thigh so his other hand can rub up and down his co-healer’s upper back. He tried to be assuring, or at the very least, with him. “What happened wasn’t you. What you did–that wasn’t you, either. You don’t have to see everyone right now, nor too soon.”

“But Bastion,” he breathed, “Let me be with you. Let me help you through this.” A healer wasn’t meant to be alone, fight alone. They backed their allies and allies protected them. Without a family or friend to pledge vitality to? Easy targets to pluck from the board.

-

   “But it was physically me.” he replied, knowing that wasn’t really the point Jules was making. In the many hours Bash laid in this bed he had recalled as much as he could, he listened to other healers and his comrades, rationalized and systematized what happened to me. The smith-son knew every answer led him to the same solution, that in the end he was guiltless of what happened;  it wasn’t his fault. Bastion accepted that, truly, but what was eating him was how powerless he actually was. All this magic they owned, this blood that’s suppose to separate them from the rest (but for what).

       In the end it didn’t amount to anything...he still failed.

Since cutting down the Eris possessed dryad who fortunately survived the mistake, River was having a tough time facing the others as well. More notably Rod and Hudson who had a better instinct and pulled them through. He forgot the majority of his own mission, where he led the group through multiple safe routes and unearthed the secrets. His failures, disappointment, ever overshadowed his accomplishments.

Nothing could compare to what Bastion must have experienced, but River felt like hiding away too for awhile. If he could.

The sound of the latch turning made River exhale, happy and validated. Moments like this would prove a friendship. Had he been turned away, River wouldn’t hold it against Bash, but he would question if he had been the friend he strove to be for the ex-soldier. The door still felt heavy as the son of Demeter opened it with care, before closing it behind to keep this energy in. To ensure Bastion would feel protected and private–even if the latter were untrue now.

River just stood still for a moment and stared toward Bastion with a patient frown. He wasn’t quick to invade, but once he moved toward his friend he took a seat at the edge of his bed. “I hope it’s okay that I checked in.” The smile appeared and he took a deeper breath through his nose. “We don’t have to talk about anything. I just wanted to see you.”

      “Sad” sounds so childish, like something flimsy, something one should be able to cast off with a happy reflection or a quick smile. But sad is what Bastion was. Sad with what had happened to Lennox, sad in himself, sad that nothing he’s done has shaken his mood. It was the type of sadness that you worried about, the type that seeps into your bones rather than exploding out of you with tears.

When the demigod entered something flashed beneath the surface of Bash’s languid expression. Under a train eye you might have called it joy, but it shifted just as quickly as it came, being hidden away by Bastion looking down at the edge of his bed. Seeing River felt like a a crack in Bastion’s defenses; a subtle shift in his armor that begged to broken. It was hard to contextualize what Bastion wanted from River, just having him in the same room jolted him a bit, more than the others have these past few days. “It’s always okay...I’m actually glad to see you.” even happier that the male came on his own than by request. They were friends, soldiers, comrades after all even if Bash’s eyes lingered longer than any friend should,as he shifted his weight a bit as River sat. “Thank you.” referring to the talking part, “I don’t think I could even if I want to..I just wish feel weird and stupid and weak. The worst part is I don’t have anything to say. I-I still can’t remember anything.” 

Since the other quest teams arrival, there had been plenty of talk around camp. Word of what had happened to Bastion. What he had done (or been made to do). River knew about gossip all too well, and while he didn’t expect Bash to have a desire to talk about what took place, he wanted to see his friend before any other misinformation stained his ears.

Sure, River hadn’t been possessed by Eris during his quest with Rod and Hudson, but he’d made a mistake. Who knows? He might have been possessed by her himself, with one mistep.

It wasn’t long till River found himself back in Voithos house with the help of Bash’s housemates. He was careful when approaching the door and once he’d gained the courage to disturb the man finally knocked lightly against the frame.

“Bash. It’s me.” Was all he said to start, hopeful it would be enough to help. River knew Bastion’s company right now would do him a great deal of good too.

   It wasn’t Bastion first time having his memories altered, the sensation beyond the physical held it’s price. From the underworld to his last quest, everything felt divergent from his expectations. Having offered up your memories compared to having them stolen left some sort of invisible scar on Bastion. That mark, this overwhelming sensations of uncertainty, left the smith-son feeling dirty and used.  It was hard to pin-point where things went wrong or how he felt, though the only thing he felt like he was sure on---was the way his demi-brothers viewed him. Logically if this was the army and the war had compromised someone as badly as they had Bastion...well he assumed the next steps would be dismissal. It was hard to see why he was still here, let alone treated so well---

   For the moment River’s voice at the door did cause Bastion to smile inwardly before it quickly flustered into this uneasiness that if left unchecked welcomed a numbness to wash over him. The son of Demeter was a close friend, maybe too close in a way, that Bastion didn’t want to come across weak. “Oh uh, yes, the doors unlocked, you can come in.” his right hand allowed his lock to switch on it’s own, still having some control over his magic even if he lost that over his emotions. While he waited for the man to enter, Bastion attempts to smooth out his bedhead while his blanket twists higher over his chest. There was no point in trying to not look troubled, though when it came to River then male wanted to remain that guy he met in the underworld over the man he seemed to be this moment. 

He didn’t buy it. Julian knew the man wouldn’t eat if it weren’t given. Or–if he had a break from the forge to allot a trip back to Voithos. He didn’t mind visiting late at night to drop off a plate or two, likewise retrieve them. But this? It worried him. Considerably. He replaced the empty plate and barely-touched mug with the fresh, warmer variants. Julian grabbed a chair and pulled it up aside Bash’s bed. “I’m not too sure you’ll eat it later,” he softly replied.  

“I’m worried about you. What questions do you have that I can answer?” Maybe filling in the blanks could help. He didn’t think for a minute Bash would kill Lennox in cold blood, but his eyes saw a different story.

  Vulnerability wasn’t a trait Bastion wore well. On a good day he’d still retract into himself when others cared over him; something in him physically churning. When Julian approached the bed, his words caused the Bash to curl into his sheets, his cheek hiding in his pillow. Why couldn’t he just spend his days alone, dissecting his thoughts, find a system to file away his emotions. For him that was normal, maybe not healthy, but it was what he was use to....though it still hadn’t dawned on Bash that maybe this was too much to handle alone. 

“Something like that, yeah.” Going on walks and jogs had always been a good way to clear his head. Lately, his head needed more clearing than usual. It also gave him a reason to not be around and to avoid any questions about how he’s doing. Seeing Bastion out here, though, brought a small smile to his face. He was better company than the snow and the bit of wildlife not in hibernation. “You been doing more hiking since our go at it during the flower… festival thing?”

   Something like that seemed to describe Bastion soundly at the moment. Not quite numb but not quite in pain, just floating back and forth, it was beginning to become difficult to remember when one feeling started and the other ended. “Uh a bit...I find myself up here more to catch my breath over the hiking part of it.” If Bastion had some clarity, he would know what he was trying to catch. Was it is confidence? Was it a cure to how he was feeling? Maybe it was just some fresh air, but whatever it was maybe it wasn’t so bad that he wasn’t doing it alone. Out of many of the demigods, Bastion respected Josh for the simplicity they shared. When it came to the son of Ares he didn’t feel like he was doing a whole lot other than existing. Not that Joshua lacked complexities, he just had a presence that was more calming than the nervousness Bash was use to feeding off of. “I guess I owe you for that...” pausing, “you know for showing me these trails.” 

Armed with a hot cup of tea brewed to perfection Grey decided to pay Bash a visit. He didn’t know the exact ins and outs of what had happened on his most recent quest just that something had happened and it hadn’t been good. So the sunshine demigod figured the least he could do as a friend was being cozy beverages and offer an ear if Bash needed one. He wasn’t dissuaded in his mission when told that his friend was fine and didn’t want visitors, soldiering on. Grey would respect it if Bastion really wanted him gone, but he had to at least try. “I brought tea. We don’t have to talk but you know I’m here if you want to.” He offered up setting the tea down on the nearest surface. “Julian’s not the only one who can do check ins on everyone.” Grey smiled softly.

Greyson had this type of understated gentleness, perhaps it was because he was so disarmingly unaware of it that made it strong. When he’d smiled or laughed you couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. It made things harder when all you wanted was to be a swallowed by a dark room, yet to be in Grey’s company was to feel like you were loved, that you had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season. How could Bastion deny that? How could he say no? “Thank you.” reply while lifting himself up a bit, back pressed against his headboard. “I don’t know if I can talk really right now...” he was honest as he reached for his mug, “maybe you could just talk...I don’t think I’m up to date of the gossip of your life.” It was clear the smith-son was deflecting but sometimes distractions can be part of the healing process too. 

thecomforting scent of parchment hung heavy in the library. sometimes, when sleepeluded him, he came here to almost be coddled by it and by memories from a pastgone yet not forgotten that included a grinning boy, plus countless illicitmeets behind the bookshelves.

gone. credence slashed an imaginary hand throughthe memories as he shot up to his feet. he was making for his room when he sawbastion there, in the flesh, and halted. if he hadn’t been so conspicuous inhis silks, credence would have hid himself.

but,found so saliently, the storm witch cleared his throat. when bastion kept onstaring at the book-spines, however, credence snapped his fingers in front of his face. “back to earth, tinker bell.” his blueeyes met bastion’s; he hoped the unease in them would not show. credenceturned, leaning lightly against a bookshelf, arm-crossed, once the other’swords came. “are you sleepwalking, bas?”he asked, frank. no use for honeyed talk, or sweetened whispers. “you have to tell me and the others if youare.” the longer he looked at the other, the more he was back there, onthat island, looking at the blood. all bastion’s doings, yet … perhaps not hisfault. credence would possibly regret the decision that he made in his head atthat moment, but damn the consequences. “doyou want to come back to my room? i have tea.” he jutted a chin at thelibrary’s exit. “cinnamon.”

    Credence snapping in front of Bastion seemed to have awoken him, cheeks flushing back some color, a slight proof of normalcy returning while his eyes were still stolen from the forger. Both sleepy and glazed over, hiding how soft they once were. 

    “Back?” he repeated, glancing around briefly realizing he was far from his bed and barely piecing together how he arrived here. One minute he remembered wanting other than journals to read, then the next, here he was with the Credence who in a certain way was the last person he wanted to chat with. Having learned how the storm witch dealt with Asher, who knew how he’d deal with Bash; which quickly coaxed this feeling of guilt to rise through him. “No, no I don’t think so” shaking his head, “...I remember being in my room, it was getting cold and I got this blanket then.” the rest seemed to have brought him here. Perhaps there was a reason? The son of Hepheastus needed a reason for all of this, something to get rid of these feelings he’s been holding on to. Whether those answers were to be found over some tea with Credence, time would tell, but with a sheepish nod he agrees. “Sure but do you have chamomile?” 

Yves, curious to find this type of Bash on the table, just blinked and smiled coyly. “Oh?” He slid into the chair opposite the blacksmith, uninvited, as usual. “And what might those questions be?” Yves had heard the reports of the mission, of course, but words rarely recreated the feelings that occurred during those situations. “There’s no reason to be disappointed with yourself. You got the most attractive acolyte. Surely that’s something.”

    Bastion was mixed between how he should be feeling, some parts of him felt so numb and uncertain while some of him was burning alive by his frustrations. “You fucking know!” he start with a bit grit behind those teeth of his, “Everyone just keeps asking if I’m okay or if I remember anything...I just, I’m so sick of having to answer the same question over and over.” You could tell there was in his voice, a pain behind it, that left Bastion straining over his words more than normal. “---I keep trying to remember something, anything, but I can’t. It’s fucking aggravating, I hate no knowing---” his sentence trailed off with a huff along with his chest puffing out too. 

Feathers. Circe’s island might be gone, but the magic remained on him. Julian couldn’t rid them no matter how hard he tried with his own powers, leaving him exhausted time and again. But, what was worse? Lennox’s death. The man almost died by Alden’s hands, only for him to go out by his oldest friend. Housemate.

We’re meant to heal, not kill in cold blood.

Julian cooked a fairly traditional breakfast that morning, honing to his family’s roots rather than the traditional Americana. When he got worked up or stressed, a little childhood recipe helped. Usually. He stood outside Bash’s door with a platter, bearing a plate of Spanish omelette sided by diced sausage and a mug of hot tea. The demigod’s eyes bore a hole into the glass, before he knocked and spoke up. “Bastion, I have breakfast.” Let me in so we can talk.

@bxsh-wxck

   Bastion’s door opens on it’s own, his magic still intact even if it seemed physically he wasn’t. Motionless, he laid there with his back towards Julian as he stares off into nothing. It was hard for him to do much, it seemed like he was stuck on, like a glitch, as if is mind couldn’t compute what had happened. Everything felt so confusing, like a jumbled set puzzles where half the pieces were missing thanks to Nyx.

    It was hard for Bastion to keep his voice raised when to came to Greyson; his voice followed after a few knocks at his door and it was almost instant that Bash sunk his teeth into staying silent, hoping, praying that if he left things unanswered that his housemate would just give up on checking in---however that wasn’t the case. The hinges squeaked open, followed by the son of Apollo who hesitantly cranked his head around the door. Not wanting to be seen like this, covers rolling higher over his head until he twisted into a cocoon, Bastion begged the boy, “Please I’m fine I just don’t want any visitors right now....” 

    Bastion stirred at his food making swirling patterns into his oatmeal while shoving his mix berries to the side of the bowl. Not having much of an appetite lately, he continues to skirt around taking full bites of his meal when he looks up to see Yves approaching his table. The son of Hepheastus knew that there was no graceful way to get out of this situation, as he’s been dodging Yves a lot late but recently it’s been more on purpose. “Don’t bother saying it.” he was sharp to be the first to speak, “I’m sick of answer the same questions, just leave me be.” Bastion drew the line it seemed and left it up to Yves to cross it if he wanted.