LOOK AT this scientist and his adopted daughter is she older than him ? yes , but lets ignore that ! // @speedsy .

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LOOK AT this scientist and his adopted daughter is she older than him ? yes , but lets ignore that ! // @speedsy .

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before, you would not have allowed such displays so easily. vulnerability is a luxury you could not afford in “the old days” - as gilgamesh had called them. the old days, before madness claimed you : your memories so easily shattered like new formed ice, or clear glass. before you lost your use, when you were less than the warrior you were proclaimed to be. goddess of war no more.
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.
it has occurred to you now that you were wrong. though they may never know the horrors you see and remember, they feel it through watching you. caring for and about, you. you are not alone, and you exhale a shuddered breath as you close your eyes. druig’s silent company welcome and makkari’s gentle touch soothing. you give in to your weary fatigue. you sleep.
@speedsy [ starter call ]
SAM LEANS her weight forward until her knee tracks over her toe. she tips a wily, wry-arching brow toward the other woman. “ ------ last one there buys dinner. ”
meta + powers ( does she enjoy them, does she envy anyone else, etc. )?
the short answers are yes and no. while she may be the best fighter among them, she knows that she is not the most powerful by any means. truthfully, and realistically, her power is probably the weakest of all of theirs. she is only truly useful in combat. her power isn’t something that she can really use in her every day life like makkari’s, or sersi’s, or sprite’s. but, she’s happy with her power. she’s a fighter, it’s what she knows and it’s what she is the best at. she wouldn’t give up her weapons for anything. she certainly doesn’t envy anyone else.
in her mind, i think the fact that she does not know what it is like to have their powers, like they do not know what it is like to have hers, makes it significantly easier for her not to wonder what it would be like. has she thought about ? sure, maybe once or twice here and there. but she thinks of it from the point of view of someone who’s sole purpose is war. what could she do differently if she was as fast as makkari, or as strong as gilgamesh, or if she could fly like ikaris ? ultimately, it doesn’t matter in the long run.
but she loves her power. she loves her weapons. they are an extension of her, a part of her, and they cannot be taken or turned against her. she loves how weightless they feel in her hands, the intricate detailing of their design. they are unique to her and no one else has them. they’re personal. she’s a possessive thing and unless it’s in sparring or genuine combat, she won’t let anyone else touch them.
meta + loneliness / isolation ( emotional & physical )
loneliness, to thena, probably doesn’t mean to her what it may mean to others. she is content on her own, she is comfortable in solitude, it doesn’t bother her. and she has never really felt lonely, even though she is different to the other eternals, it’s never made her feel like she doesn’t belong. she’s happy to keep to herself and watch them live their lives from a distance. she doesn’t have this driving need to befriend anyone. and, truthfully, even during those five hundred years with just gilgamesh, he was and always will be enough for her. she is not quite as social as him, or kingo, or sersi. so loneliness to her isn’t being alone, so to speak. loneliness to thena wasn’t something she really experienced until tenochtitlan and in the years following. because loneliness to thena is knowing that none of the other eternals will ever understand what she goes through with mahd wy’ry. and she’s grateful for it, don’t get her wrong. she wouldn’t want any of the others to be in her position. but while they have their own personal experience of what it must be like to watch her go through it, they can at least commiserate together. she is the only one who can fully understand what it is she goes through. even though she doesn’t remember what she sees, says or does during an episode. she feels the after effects. just knowing that she could snap at any moment, triggered by quite literally anything, takes a toll. and that is loneliness to her.
isolation, much like loneliness, is the same thing. she’s a recluse by nature. she is not social unless someone forces her to be. she will self-isolate. when she’s done with a conversation, she will walk away rather than make meaningless small talk or drag it out needlessly. the australian outback was honestly perfect for thena, and is probably, i would say, the closest thing to home she has ever really felt. even compared to the domo. she could just exist there. the only threat she had to be on guard for was herself, and she trusts gilgamesh so completely that it did not take long for her to become settled there. it is, i think, the reason why they put down roots. why they made it their home. they could have moved on but i think once gilgamesh saw how at ease thena felt in the middle of nowhere, there was no other choice really. honestly, wherever they ended up was likely similar, though i think australia was the most extreme in terms of isolation. but they may have slowly, over time, moved from one small town to an even smaller town to the most obscure locations where the chances of interacting with humankind diminished more and more with every move. thena needs time to herself. she needs to be left alone for however long she needs, and she will decide when she’s had enough time to herself.
because really, though she may seem like the type to hold at arms length or keep her distance, she is in reality, the exact opposite. she likes being close to those she considers family, to those she loves. throughout the first several thousand years, she was never far from the other eternals. she was almost always near at least one. obviously, that would primarily be gilgamesh. but for the most part, she enjoys silent company. she would drift through the domo, or wherever they chose to reside, from room to room. she might sit for hours in silence watching phastos create, or accompany druig on walks through nights he couldn’t rest, or sketch makkari when she is still, rare though that may be. if she isn’t fighting, thena is on edge, ready and eager to look for one even the minute after she’s won the last. so the others, maybe even without knowing, ground her.
thena is a contradiction in every sense of the word.

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VOCABLES LIVE AND DIE ON AJAK’S TONGUE IN MANY DIFFERENT FORMS, SOMETHING ONLY EXPRESSED THROUGH A SUBTLE RAISE OF BROW AND A GENTLE SHAKE OF HER HEAD. SHE KNOWS SHE SHOULD SPEAK WHILE THE ACT IS STILL IN FRUITION BUT THERE IS A PART OF HER THAT CANNOT HELP THE BLOOMING OF AMUSEMENT. * makkari is full of life and there a few moments these days for things that make one feel truly alive. see, while she takes on her role to guide them through to the end with great care —— prime not being a title she wears lightly —— ajak found herself regarding them with an even higher level of safe keeping. one she does not put a name to it. but one that exists all the same. “ i see that you have found yourself a hobby. ” there it is again, the shift of her brows as she levels an all-knowing look at makkari. a flourish of her hand then gestures to the trinkets within her possession. “ where did you find them this time? ” / @speedsy , ♡ .
@speedsy threw a rock through the window of alias investigations
“ --- shit. ” she jerks awake, spittle bitter with rye & caking the corner of her lip. her laptop has a string of keys SMASHED to nonsense lettered across the screen.
the SHATTER CLASH OF GLASS splintering open is familiar. it doubles when she slices her palm back across the desk & knocks a wet clang of a bottle to thump into the floor. jessica dredges through the heady haze of liquor-drenched, thick-skulled slumber to find herself blinking through the low haze of city streetlights pouring in through the newly shorn hole in her window.
she pushes, staggers past a fresh spate of spackle puttying up the shape of her fist in the plaster to squint out at the street. “ HEY, ASSHOLE! ” spits out, angry-harsh & as fermented as her lour. “ business hours are appointment only. & trust me. you REALLY don’t want me to come down there to collect payment. ”
Maui snuck up on Makkari with a big smile on his face, soaking wet in just jeans. Once he had her attention, large hands quickly signed out." I brought you something."
@speedsy liked the sc - accepting