09-03-2015, 12:13 PM
If this is to end in fire then we should all burn together
The black bled out of the edges of his vision as a body shoved him away from the tree that was helping him stay put, helping him stay grounded in his body and keeping those fucking whispers at bay. The voice that spoke was supposed to be in his head again, because it was Gendry, and Gendry was yelling. Which was fair, Drow was covered in his own blood and all and Gendry should be yelling. But.
“Stop that.” His voice was distant as he echoed his brother’s command, soft and unfocused. “Thought you said you were done putting me back together.” Or wait. When was that? That was before the world grew back around him, and when they were all dead. “Aren’t you dead?” He tried to focus on the blur of orange in front of him, the one shoving him away from the tree. He was supposed to push back, supposed to…fight? Probably he was supposed to fight, that was what they did. But fighting was work, and Drow had no fight in him. Not after losing everyone again.
Everyone except Gendry?
He shook his head, trying to make the fog and the blur and the feeling like he was boiling alive go away long enough to figure out—oh. Hello. A familiar coolness washed over him, dousing the heat and clearing some of the fog. Fever. Right. He was all infected and gross and crusted over and the fever was what was happening. Okay. Good.
He didn’t fight as hard as usual to hold onto the scars this time, too relieved that he could kind of think again to put too much effort into his normal stubborn determination to show the whole fucking world how broken he was at first glance. His body still fought some just out of habit maybe, making Gendry work to wipe away infection, to repair and regrow missing muscle and skin and hair. Ha, even when he didn’t mean to be, he was stubborn as fuck. Poor Gendry.
And when it was done, Gendry was worn the hell out, panting from the effort, and lecturing him again. And…and frankly, Drow had no explanation. He was still pretty goddamn confused about how much of what he remembered (Jay and danger and the hungry dead, three worlds blurring together and all of it burning, burning, burning, everyone dead, because he sucked he life out of everyone he loved) was real and how much was the fever. “I—“ Wait. Pause. More important than absolutely any of it. “Nieces?”
“Stop that.” His voice was distant as he echoed his brother’s command, soft and unfocused. “Thought you said you were done putting me back together.” Or wait. When was that? That was before the world grew back around him, and when they were all dead. “Aren’t you dead?” He tried to focus on the blur of orange in front of him, the one shoving him away from the tree. He was supposed to push back, supposed to…fight? Probably he was supposed to fight, that was what they did. But fighting was work, and Drow had no fight in him. Not after losing everyone again.
Everyone except Gendry?
He shook his head, trying to make the fog and the blur and the feeling like he was boiling alive go away long enough to figure out—oh. Hello. A familiar coolness washed over him, dousing the heat and clearing some of the fog. Fever. Right. He was all infected and gross and crusted over and the fever was what was happening. Okay. Good.
He didn’t fight as hard as usual to hold onto the scars this time, too relieved that he could kind of think again to put too much effort into his normal stubborn determination to show the whole fucking world how broken he was at first glance. His body still fought some just out of habit maybe, making Gendry work to wipe away infection, to repair and regrow missing muscle and skin and hair. Ha, even when he didn’t mean to be, he was stubborn as fuck. Poor Gendry.
And when it was done, Gendry was worn the hell out, panting from the effort, and lecturing him again. And…and frankly, Drow had no explanation. He was still pretty goddamn confused about how much of what he remembered (Jay and danger and the hungry dead, three worlds blurring together and all of it burning, burning, burning, everyone dead, because he sucked he life out of everyone he loved) was real and how much was the fever. “I—“ Wait. Pause. More important than absolutely any of it. “Nieces?”
Watch the flames climb high into the night
Drow