[ He should have, is the thing. Every scrap of training he's ever had said to pull the trigger. Fuck the risk, fuck the resurrection game, just fucking get it over with. Put him down, end the threat. And yet.
It's better that you didn't, I think. I might kill him myself, though, this is deep.
[ Drake props Ephemera's arm up on the edge of the sink gently and starts stitching, something he sadly has a lot of practice at. A few months ago he'd hoped he'd never have to do this for Ephemera again, but here they are.
[ He twitches, shaking himself. Sleeping's bad when you've got a concussion. When he's centered, he knows that. But it's hard to focus right now, to remember what he needs to do. Everything feels more than a little unreal. Like waking up from a dream. ]
[ Oh. Ephemera blinks slowly. His thoughts are like molasses. Everything feels heavy, coming a beat too slow to fully grasp. He thinks he ought to be in more pain than he is. Everything's dulled. That might be a problem. The only thing that feels real about the moment is the sound of Drake's voice. ]
[ He leans in and presses a kiss to Ephemera's forehead, then goes back to stitching. He's about halfway done, then they really need to clean him up and check him over more thoroughly and get some sugar into him. ]
What should we talk about-- oh hey, I never asked. Was there anything left in your room when we got back from camp? I got something weird.
[ You're fine. Just breathe, and focus. And don't pass out. Easy. Ephemera breathes out, counting on the exhale, and puts his hand on Drake's shoulder. A loose hold, just something to do. A way to center himself in the moment. ]
Yeah. Got some chocolate. Real fancy shit. Was gonna ask if you wanted some. WHat'd you get?
[ Another stitch, and Ephemera can feel the muscles shifting under his touch as Drake moves. Something else to focus on, something tactile. ]
It's something else I had with me when I left Hadriel -- my mother's photo album. Makes me wonder if they've got more of my shit hidden somewhere here.
Yeah, of course. Once we get you cleaned up, okay?
[ Last couple of stitches, almost done with that part. ]
This is a sign of just how much I trust you, by the way. There's some terrible hair going on in that book.
[ And done. He sets down the needle and reaches for the hem of Ephemera's shirt... he knows the other man doesn't like being undressed, but it's kind of necessary here. ]
[ It's a little lighter, something to break the tension. At least for a moment. Ephemera stills, watching Drake for a moment. Felix kissed me, he almost says. First time was - another way of throwing a blow, he thinks. Second time wasn't. But how is he supposed to put that into words?
He exhales. ]
Okay.
[ He moves gingerly, stripping his shirt off. Ow. ]
[ Drake helps him off with it, carefully as he can. The shredded, bloody shirt winds up in the bathroom trash can and then Drake's grabbing another washcloth, wetting this one with just water and turning back to Ephemera to clean him up. He wipes the other man's face off gently, then kneels in front of him and keeps going, the cloth rapidly soaking up red. ]
What about you? Any aesthetic mistakes in your past?
[ He drags a hand down his face and regrets it almost instantly. Ow. He's going to be a mess of bruises tomorrow. A real goddamn mess. And now he's dragged Drake right into the middle of this one, too. ]
Got a couple drunken pictures out there in the ether somewhere. Helljumper parties get wild.
[ There's not much Drake can do about it but tape it, and it's going to hurt like hell for awhile. He runs the cloth down Ephemera's chest, wiping away blood and prodding fresh bruises gently to see if anything's broken. ]
A little. We weren't having orgies or anything. People did hook up a lot, though. Mostly we just got drunk and punched each other. Ate a lot of food. Good times.
[ Drake slips under Ephemera's good arm, wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him to the couch -- not either of their rooms, he has to stay awake -- to set him down gently. ]
I'm gonna get you some ice and something to eat. State your preferences now or choke down what I bring you.
[ Drake's strong and solid, and he doesn't waver at all. Just gets it done. Ephemera reaches out to touch his arm briefly, meeting his eyes. He nods. ]
[ He wavers there for a moment, then pulls back reluctantly to cross to the kitchen. In the interest of time he rummages through the fridge for something left over that might be appealing, and while that's heating up he fills a bag with ice... then pours Ephemera some juice and pulls a pack of cookies out of the cupboard. It all gets brought over when the microwave beeps. ]
You finish it all and I'll show you the embarrassing photos.
[ He passes the plate over and sits down close, wrapping the baggie of ice in a dish cloth. ]
[ Yay, food. He'll probably manage to keep it down. Probably, Ephemera thinks, and breathes out slow as he takes the plate. Taps his nails along the rim to center himself, stay in the moment. Food's good. He needs the calories right now or he's going to crash hard and he probably won't get back up again for a good long while if he does. ]
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[ He should have, is the thing. Every scrap of training he's ever had said to pull the trigger. Fuck the risk, fuck the resurrection game, just fucking get it over with. Put him down, end the threat. And yet.
And fucking yet. ]
It didn't feel right.
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[ Drake props Ephemera's arm up on the edge of the sink gently and starts stitching, something he sadly has a lot of practice at. A few months ago he'd hoped he'd never have to do this for Ephemera again, but here they are.
He doesn't want to think about it too hard. ]
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Bad idea, with a concussion. ]
I can't feel it.
[ Or at least not much of it. The adrenaline and the nerve damage have teamed up to kill the sensation. ]
Sorry I freaked you out.
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[ He keeps stitching, but notices Ephemera looks like he's about to nod off. Not good. ]
Hey, stay with me.
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[ He twitches, shaking himself. Sleeping's bad when you've got a concussion. When he's centered, he knows that. But it's hard to focus right now, to remember what he needs to do. Everything feels more than a little unreal. Like waking up from a dream. ]
I'll live.
[ Probably. It just won't be pretty. ]
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Just don't fall asleep. We've gotta get some sugar and fluids into you after this.
[ Another stitch, and an impulsive comment: ]
And you'll be breathing. Living's different.
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Can you talk to me? It's hard to focus.
[ He sways a little. Corrects. ]
I'm trying, Drake.
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[ He leans in and presses a kiss to Ephemera's forehead, then goes back to stitching. He's about halfway done, then they really need to clean him up and check him over more thoroughly and get some sugar into him. ]
What should we talk about-- oh hey, I never asked. Was there anything left in your room when we got back from camp? I got something weird.
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Yeah. Got some chocolate. Real fancy shit. Was gonna ask if you wanted some. WHat'd you get?
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[ Another stitch, and Ephemera can feel the muscles shifting under his touch as Drake moves. Something else to focus on, something tactile. ]
It's something else I had with me when I left Hadriel -- my mother's photo album. Makes me wonder if they've got more of my shit hidden somewhere here.
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Maybe.
[ He wonders if his armor is out there. ]
Can I see it, sometime? I'd - like that. Seeing your family.
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[ Last couple of stitches, almost done with that part. ]
This is a sign of just how much I trust you, by the way. There's some terrible hair going on in that book.
[ And done. He sets down the needle and reaches for the hem of Ephemera's shirt... he knows the other man doesn't like being undressed, but it's kind of necessary here. ]
Just me. Okay?
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Now that I have to see.
[ It's a little lighter, something to break the tension. At least for a moment. Ephemera stills, watching Drake for a moment. Felix kissed me, he almost says. First time was - another way of throwing a blow, he thinks. Second time wasn't. But how is he supposed to put that into words?
He exhales. ]
Okay.
[ He moves gingerly, stripping his shirt off. Ow. ]
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[ Drake helps him off with it, carefully as he can. The shredded, bloody shirt winds up in the bathroom trash can and then Drake's grabbing another washcloth, wetting this one with just water and turning back to Ephemera to clean him up. He wipes the other man's face off gently, then kneels in front of him and keeps going, the cloth rapidly soaking up red. ]
What about you? Any aesthetic mistakes in your past?
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[ He drags a hand down his face and regrets it almost instantly. Ow. He's going to be a mess of bruises tomorrow. A real goddamn mess. And now he's dragged Drake right into the middle of this one, too. ]
Got a couple drunken pictures out there in the ether somewhere. Helljumper parties get wild.
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[ There's not much Drake can do about it but tape it, and it's going to hurt like hell for awhile. He runs the cloth down Ephemera's chest, wiping away blood and prodding fresh bruises gently to see if anything's broken. ]
I'd pay to see those. Wild how?
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Oh, everybody hooks up with everybody and gets real naked.
[ It's said blandly. He may or may not be kidding. ]
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I actually can't tell if you're shitting me or not. That's new for us.
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A little. We weren't having orgies or anything. People did hook up a lot, though. Mostly we just got drunk and punched each other. Ate a lot of food. Good times.
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Doesn't sound so different from my last crowd, honestly.
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It was a trip. Not really my crowd anymore.
[ For multiple reasons. ]
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[ Drake slips under Ephemera's good arm, wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him to the couch -- not either of their rooms, he has to stay awake -- to set him down gently. ]
I'm gonna get you some ice and something to eat. State your preferences now or choke down what I bring you.
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Something hot. I'll eat anything, you know me.
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[ He wavers there for a moment, then pulls back reluctantly to cross to the kitchen. In the interest of time he rummages through the fridge for something left over that might be appealing, and while that's heating up he fills a bag with ice... then pours Ephemera some juice and pulls a pack of cookies out of the cupboard. It all gets brought over when the microwave beeps. ]
You finish it all and I'll show you the embarrassing photos.
[ He passes the plate over and sits down close, wrapping the baggie of ice in a dish cloth. ]
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I'm gonna hold you to that one.
[ He gives Drake a faint smile. ]
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