“Eskel, your Axii is good, and you can control the intensity. It shut it all off.” Lambert tapped his fingers on his temple. “You can quiet it down.”
The understanding on Eskel’s face was infused with pity, and Lambert struggled not to spit at it. “Lam,” he said, “how long has it been since you’ve slept?”
Lambert is haunted by the world he retreats from every winter, haunted by the ghosts he encounters on the Path. The dead, the dying, the ruined, hateful world. He can’t keep his brain quiet. He can’t sleep. But Axii has a special way of clearing his mind, and Eskel has the best Axii. It’s an easy solution.
If only the problem with him was just as simple.
Yusuf snorts, as if to say it’s mutual. But the Italian struggles to sit upright, wincing and swearing, and – Yusuf cannot pretend he does not want to know, not when a creature will always seek out its like, its matched half as the Greek philosopher Plato wrote, and there is nobody else in the world, to the best of his knowledge, like the two of them. He says, “What’s your name?”
There’s a very long pause. He can hear the other man deciding whether to lie. But there is no purpose to it, except for bitterness, and the answer is uttered cold and shortly. “Nicolò.”
(Or: The inevitable backstory.)
Fandoms: The Old Guard (Comics)
23 Oct 2020
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
He turns. Joe is across the deserted room, leaning casually with his arms crossed against a dark wooden confessional. His head is tilted impishly to one side. Nicky stares at him and laughs nervously. “Have you?”
Joe just raises an eyebrow at him and gets into the booth, shutting the small door behind him.
This is entirely plotless and is mostly just dirty talk and blasphemy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
22 Oct 2020
“And what if I told my lord,” she says, “that I actually was always quite good at keeping that kind of thing straight and that I do enjoy that kind of entertaining social relations, even if I don’t particularly like most people I have to talk to?”
He smiles slightly at that, finally looking at her in the eyes. “Is my lady telling me,” he says, “that she quite likes it because she can feel exactly how much most of them are vapid people who can only talk about hunting foxes, the latest ball and so on?”
“That’s,” she smiles back, “exactly what she’s telling you, my lord.”
He smiles a bit wider. It’s a sweet smile, she thinks.
“Maybe,” he says, “we might be more suited to each other than I thought in the beginning, Lady Catelyn.”
“If we are to be wed,” she smiles back, “maybe you could call me Cat, my lord. I do not have much use for formality, either.”
“Then — then it’s Ned, in between us,” he replies, stopping right in the middle of the garden. She can hear the river flowing a bit farther.
“Ned,” she tries out. “It sounds lovely.”
Bookmarked by themadmosquito
22 Oct 2020