#drabbleish thing

A/N: I just needed more of my precious bean and her emotional support warden in my life. Writing them just brings me joy and gives me life. I have so many random lil HC IDK if they are going to make into my actual fic but this probably will in some form... full thing below the cut.

Maeve waited till everyone else was preoccupied to slip away from the camp they had just established near the Crossroads. They were close to where Alistair had told her he would be, before expressly warning her not to come find him because the other Wardens were looking for him. Maeve, like usual, didn’t listen. 

She remembered the cabin that they had found years before, lost to the world by a lake most people had forgotten about. It had been a refuge for them once and it didn’t surprise Maeve in the least the Alistair had returned there. Maeve fate stepped through the trees, she had always been good about sneaking up on people unnoticed. ‘Quieter than a mouse... not a sound... not even a squeak.’ Alistair’s words to her from years ago still rung in her ears clear as day any time she had to go unseen. 

As Maeve neared the shack, she could her Alistair mumbling to himself. Maeve couldn’t make out the words but just seeing him grumbling about carrying firewood suddenly made everything feel a little more normal. Standing near the edge of the lake she smirked as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So, good job hiding...” Maeve called out. 

Blakk was a master of silence.

He was silent when he left.  Blakk was a stray on the best of days, and he would leave without notice.  He usually returned to her, when the assignment was over.  But he was silent when he did, appearing again as if he'd never gone.

It was silent when Blakk didn't return.  This was one of those nights he didn't.

It had been a long mission, and a trying one, and it was so late.  He didn't want to see her.

He didn't want her to see him.

So he slunk back to the Phantom, instead, weary and sore, to patch himself up.  He'd see her tomorrow.  Maybe.

But he was exhausted, as he slumped onto the medbay bench, blearily gazing at the kolto patches and bandaging he didn't want to apply.  His lip was split, the entire side of his face one aching bruise - the result of a tangle with an alien, and a fist bigger than his head.  His fingers were burnt through his gloves, and so was one arm and his back through the remnants of his armor, and just thinking about it hurt.

But he didn't want to move.  He didn't want to take care of himself.  He just wanted to sleep.

When Toovee appeared in the doorway, Blakk nodded wearily.  He offered no words, but the droid didn't need any.  Almost with no help from Blakk, the droid rid him of the gloves and armor, revealing the damage, and half-healed bruising telling the story of other recent assignments.

Blakk rested his elbows on his knees and closed his eyes, bowing his head.  In silence, Toovee set his hands upon the young agent's back.  Blakk marvelled at how gentle they were.  Almost like hers, he thought, and he wondered why he never returned to her.

Silence lasted.  Blakk drifted.  The hands offered silent comfort.  When they reached around to turn his face, Blakk opened his eyes.  They widened in shock.

It was her.

His lips parted to say something, but she pressed her fingers to them.

No words.  No words were needed.

When her fingers lifted to brush his injured cheek, he dropped his gaze, before lifting his eyes to watch her, hesitant.  What should he expect?

But she smiled, small and soft, and said nothing, continuing to tend his face.

They keep him apart from his men, lock him up in his own cell while his forces are crowded together, and though usually Saikhan would have protested…

He was numb. The day had been long, the battle hard, and… They had lost. The city had been taken, his city, and his people were suffering.

The only consolation he could see was that the Avatar had escaped, as well as Councilman Tenzin and his family. The last airbenders were safe.

‘And Lin with them.’

Last he heard from the latest prisoners brought in, she’d been seen on the back of the councilman’s sky bison.

She was safe.

His body ached from the battle and his lungs felt as if they were on fire - any sort of exertion hurt now, a consequence of when Tarrlok had bloodbended him weeks prior, but that wasn’t which pained him the most.

Stone beneath his feet and metal bars surround him, and he can’t feel it, the low hum of the earth, or hear the subtly of the metal.

He was deaf to the earth.