#speedsy

            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.

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.

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.

“      ---      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.      

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."