#dracoiignis

🎁🎅 santali’s 12 days of christmas — day twelve. 🎄❄

Winterfell was rather large and Ned had grown use to the different sizes of castles, yet, he did not think any of them were the size of Skyhold. This place seemed rather large, as if they could fit several castles just into the court yard. Ned was rather amazed as he passed through the different portions, looking for someone he could talk to. With the amount of people here, Ned was finding it difficult to look for the right person. As he ascended the stairs, Ned was gazing idly about him, looking at the people below, milling about. He wondered what Catelyn would think of if she saw all of this.

He glanced up when he heard the footfalls, Ned catching sight of someone who might be able to help him. "Could you point me in the direction of someone I could speak to of an alliance?"

“ touch one of those & i’ll kill you. ” could be a quote from some tarantino movie, but it’s really just the maternal cry of a baker who’s slaved away over those pumpkin muffins for most of the day, & is not about to lose one to her brother. still, her threat is dull & not really that menacing: perhaps because it comes as she’s elbow-deep in dish soap, or maybe it’s just the look she has for anyone in her family, but leo more than anyone else — like she’d die just to make sure that they get to smile one more time.

they gave him the wrong setlist for the night. had to, or he would never agree with it — but the thing is, this is more than just a birthday. for the rest of the band & morgan herself, it’s more just than leo’s birthday. it’s the one chance they have to let everyone else celebrate him — ‘cause he’s there, ‘cause he’s fought so much & so hard, ‘cause, really, he’s their hero & he has to know this. so midnight strikes as they’re still on stage, but instead of setting the lights for the next song, the familiar tune of happy birthday starts resonating. & morgan’s gona, disappeared backstage for a second: when she reappears, jake’s prompted everyone to sing happy birthday, & she’s holding a cake. they had a picture printed on it, the most embarrassing one they could find ( dug out of connor’s phone from their very first tour ), the same one they uploaded on the band’s social accounts just to piss him off, really. but this is not to piss him off — this is so he knows that no matter what, no matter all he’s had to endure: it was all for this moment, for the roar of the crowd as another year turns, for the other’s guitars & the drums, all playing for him, in that very moment. & morgan smiles, with a ridiculous cake in her hands, ‘cause she can’t help it — he’s the fire igniting the rest of them, & this is it. this is happiness, as pure as it gets. he’s gonna complain about this, she knows, but she’ll let jake handle that: for now, she’s just happy to cheer him on with everyone else, & kiss his lips ‘cause she finally can do that, too. “ happy birthday, nerd. ” & the crowd won’t stop roaring.

The night was always the best time for him to operate. Being a person known only as ‘Poltergeist’ to a bunch of lowlives in perhaps the crappiest part of New York left him with as much necessity.

Beside that fact night was the only time that Hell’s Kitchen was peaceful. Relatively speaking of course. He’d been told of some sort of anomalous character running amok across the streets. Given that it was in his unofficial ‘jurisdiction’ he didn’t bother letting the cops try and handle it. Instead he tracked. Got some intel that led him to the very edge of Hell’s Kitchen–––where he stalked & waited like a vulture awaiting its prey.

“C’mon out n’ play...”

                     bone weary ache, shoulders curving inwards on himself as he walks ----- a sorry looking sight, probably, but for once peter doesn’t care. p a n i c flushes his system intermittently ; chest heaves with a phantom weight, back sears with pain that isn’t there. okay so maybe he shouldn’t have turned the psych evaluation down. but he’s a teenager, psychological damage was like, his natural element right ? right. wrong. keys jangling in the lock of his uncle’s apartment, for once not bothering to sneak in the easy way. avoid confrontation ( no way he can get away with it, not this time ; half-fading bruises, a split lip, haunting look to his eyes ).

                       sam’s out, or well, his shoes are missing --- probably trying to get a leash on pest again before the kid did something really stupid ( like take on something too big, too MUCH, too soon ). breath hitches. thoughts stutter like a record, before buffering back out at the familiar scent and sight of home. leo’s here though. and that’s the guy he’s looking for anyway.  

                      scuffing his shoes, like he can drag this out anymore than he already has, like he can p r e t e n d maybe he isn’t this messed up inside. leo’s in front of the tv, posture relaxing and remote in hand, screen playing news reels. shit what if he knew already ? nah, no one saw the showdown. peter forgoes starting a conversation with his uncle, doesn’t know what he’d actually even say at this point. so he takes what he wants.