#druisg

@druisg | in an hour of need prompts

sersi had been sat with her for hours, keeping her company while she slept. telling her stories and letting that soothing tone drift her off into dreamland. but of course sersi can’t stay forever, she’s important. everyone’s important and as the weight lifts from her mattress, sprite stirs with a quiet  w h i n e  that if she was awake and lucid and not in PAIN, she’d have hated herself for. 

but someone takes her place and sprite isn’t alone. her eyes flicker open to find--

                                     “ druig...? ”

the voice is heavy with sleep, weak as it meets the air. sprite moves slightly beneath her covers and her nose wrinkles as she accidentally tugs on open wounds. he tells her to SLEEP and she is nearly powerless to resist the way it pulls at her mind. 

                                      “ stay...”

➶     —     @druisg​​   ;  “ move in with me. “

he’s  visiting.  Visiting,  with  a  capital  V.  as  in  only  here  temporarily  until  he’s  inevitably  called  back  to  new  york  for  the  next  catastrophe,  because  there  is  always  a  next.  it’s  far  from  the  first,  only  a  series  in  a  long  line  of  stolen  moments  of  peace  that  never  quite  feel  like  they  belong  in  his  hands.  back  home,  his  days  are  either  nothing  or  full  speed  ahead,  but  here  they’re  not  boring  or  busy.  it’s  a  sweet  spot  of  not  lacking  for  something  to  do  or  someone  to  talk  to  without  feeling  exhaustion-crushed  by  nighttime.  it’s  around  ten,  and  they’re  in  bed,  the  fourth  time  this  week  he’s  gonna  be  out  before  midnight.  somehow  this  feels  more  unbelievable  than  if  aliens  started  raining  down  from  the  sky.

it’s  somewhere  amidst  chatter  about  their  days,  not  sudden,  it  doesn’t  even  really  feel  out  of  place.  he  likes  it  here  in  a  way  he  thought  impossible  of  anywhere  but  new  york.  clint’s  still  so,  so  sure  he  heard  wrong.  he’s  not  even  roommate  material,  so  he’s  definitely  not  live  in  boyfriend  material.   it’s  a  little  too  dark  to  read  lips  right,  and  his  hearing  aids  are  in  but  sometimes  they’re  wonky.    

he remembers being watched so intently and openly only that one time.

the time he has entrapped hera in a throne,   and how everyone in olympus have begged him to release her.   as much as it was satisfying,   knowing she had been caught in his trick,   it was also   -   safe,   because hephaestus had been far away,  and it was the olympians who had to struggle to get to him at any chance of releasing their ruler’s wife.

but then he was brought to the sky,   and hephaestus had puffed out his chest,   relying so much on his anger to justify his faux confidence,  but it was no use.  his gaze quickly stray under anyone’s unrelenting attention,   falling naturally to the floor,   and it was easy to make himself small even if he was bulky,   his ugliness standing out.   there were just too many eyes then,   all on him    —   curious,  loathing,  some impressed   —   as it was too many eyes now.   except    ...    it lacks any curiosity.   just empty stares,   boring right into his figure.

hephaestus is a god,   and yet he ducks his head down now.   he tries again -

❝   only passin’ through   ...   ❞      he explains,   eager to go about his way.    ❝   my smithy.   up ahead.   i   -   mean no harm.   ❞  

                  would  you  bang  the  valkyrie ?     /   @druisg .

            it  was  never  a  weakness  in  your  mind.  to  be  vulnerable.  it  was  merely  something  you  could  never  be  :  not  freely,  not  unencumbered.  you  were  the  warrior  eternal  -  you  stood  between  your  kin  and  the  damned,  fought  with  a  fury  unparalleled.  it  was  what  you  know  to  be.  if  you  could  not  be  that,  than  what  were  you  ?  no.  vulnerability  was  unaccaptable.

                 and  then,  it  was  all  you  were.  in  the  years  after  tenochtitlan,  the  centuries  spent  with  gilgamesh  watching  over  you,  caring  for  you,  bringing  you  back  from  the  brink  . . .  you  had  learned  that  you  were  not  infallible,  and  that  you  could  seek  comfort  where  needed.

                                                 you  needed  it  now.

               when  you  come  out  of  mahd  wy’ry,  you  are  exhausted.  there  is  an  ache  in  your  body  you  cannot  ease,  your  thoughts  are  hard  to  silence  and  you  fluctuate  between  needing  space,  and  needing  company.  it  was  your  first  real  episode  since  gilgamesh  died  :  and  you  call  it  luck  that  all  three  of  you  saw  it  through  to  the  end  without  injury.  still,  you  would  never  forgive  yourself  for  the  first  and  last  time  makkari  faced  you  in  such  a  state  :  you  carry  the  weight  of  your  guilt  like  stone,  even  now.

                it  would  have  been  easy  to  beg  seclusion  :  to  have  left  them  in  the  wake  of  your  attack  to  find  solace  alone,  lick  your  wounds  and  mourn.  it  would  be  much  harder  to  seek  consolation  in  them.

.  .  .     @speedsy​,     comb  :  comb  fingers  through  my  muses  hair     +     @druisg​,     company  :  silently  sit  with  my  muse  to  comfort  them

          but  you  do  :  you  give  in  to  vulnerability  and  you  find  yourself  on  your  back,  your  head  in  makkari’s  lap  as  she  runs  her  fingers  through  your  blonde  tresses.  druig  joins  you,  sitting  cross-legged  at  your  side  and  you  are  grateful  that  they  do  so  without  question,  without  speaking.  it  helps  to  settle  you,  and  it  is  not  quite  the  grounding  sensation  you  are  used  to,  but  it  is  as  close  as  you  will  ever  get.

               your  head  turns,  and  makkari’s  fingers  move  with  you  :  she  tucks  your  hair  behind  your  ear  before  resuming  the  motion  as  your  eyes  seek  out  druig’s  -  he  had  broken  you  of  mahd  wy’ry,  had  pulled  you  back  from  the  hellish  nightmares  you  are  so  familiar  and  it  had  been  devastating,  to  experience  it  without  gilgamesh  by  your  side.  you  had  thought  yourself  alone  when  he  died,  despite  the  company  of  your  kin,  your  family.  they  don’t  wholly  understand  -  they  never  really  would.  so  you  had  resigned  yourself  to  dealing  with  your  affliction  on  your  own.