antivanleather | Fifth Drop - Again, until you decide to drop. Now I'm so high, so high, so high [Action]

Entry tags:

Fifth Drop - Again, until you decide to drop. Now I'm so high, so high, so high [Action]

plans.

His eyes snap open as the thought finishes and for a long moment he can't breathe or think past the remembered pain of a gaping wound and the cold, blissful slide of a knife through his heart. No Isaac, so kind, so cruel to cradle his head. No grit of dirt or stone under his cheek and digging into his back. No clash of battle or distant, strained cry that was so very familiar- oh. Katniss. She'd seen. He's still wrapping his mind around being alive, around breathing when his hands fly to his chest- whole and slick with sweat rather than blood. Alive. He is alive. It is no trick, it is no twist of necromantic intent. He feels no lesser than he had before. Well. Mildly ill and lethargic, yes. But he lives.

And remembers nothing at all of being dead aside from it being a decidedly uncomfortable process to achieve. If he spends too much time thinking on it, he'll drive himself mad. All he can do is take that he is alive with good grace and get to his feet. Laying here is becoming uncomfortable- but for a fair while he can't bring himself to move, relishing the simple act of laying out in the sun and being able to breathe without smelling his own death

When he does rouse himself from where he's settled in the woods he will, without any real sense of urgency- which is fairly odd for him, go first and foremost to Isaac's home. There was something he gave the Forgemaster to hold onto that he needs back. Afterward he finds himself wandering to the clothing shop to find a shirt. Perhaps shoes. Something beyond the plain white trousers the Malnosso gave him upon his revival. From there, it's home. Home to check in on his boys and be yelled at quite a bit.

At his house he'll pick the lock to the front door since he does not have the key upon his person or feel particularly inclined to calling attention to himself, slip inside, and make his way to the kitchen to brew himself a mug of coffee. If a hearty measure of brandy makes it way into the mug as well- can anyone blame him? He's settled there for the first hour he is back home, sitting quietly in the kitchen and sipping away.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I am in no hurry." He shrugs a bit, trying not to draw too much attention to the lean cut to his torso and sharp angle to his jaw. He was as he'd been when he'd first woken in her bed- and the memory does make his smile warm just that much more. She'd handled it quite well, all told.

He was about to ask if she remembered that morning as well when her fingers slip up to his lips. Normally he'd be cheeky enough to press a kiss there, but it would not be appreciated at the moment. H remains still and silent until she grins in turn, and all is well. He loops his arms around her shoulders to pull her into a quick hug.

"Of course I'm alive. I would not be standing here, looking for shirts otherwise."

"I suppose not."

She huffs a soft laugh before the realization of what she's doing catches up with her. Cheeks flushing pink she withdraws from the embrace looking a little flustered and trying to keep her gaze above his collar bones. That really is quite a nasty looking scar though, it almost reminds her of the one along her side that Viral left.

"It's good to see you, Zev."

"It is good to see you as well" He pats her back and pulls the first item to his left- an oversized sweater of ambiguous color and shape, over his head so he would no longer be half dressed in front of her. Not the best or most flattering item he might have chosen but this way she would have less cause to blush.

"Though I must ask- what happened? I seem to have missed something vital."

She glanced away when he reached for the sweater, her gaze lingering on the hats she had been looking at before when he next speaks. Ducking her head a little she reaches up to adjust her hair, this time a subtle shift to let it fall over her face a little more rather than the usual tucking behind her ear.

"The end of the Draft got messy and hit a few of us pretty badly."

He was having none of that and reached out to brush aside the hair. A wound was a wound, a scar was a scar, and he had seen and likely caused worse than this in his time. Eyes were tricky things, and he took a moment to frown at the patch before he let her hair fall back into place.

"Wait here a moment."

He turned back through the mess that was the rack of scarves and started to pick through them, rubbing the fabric between his fingers for something soft and opaque, something he could twist and braid. Satisfied with one in a dark blue he returned to her side and began to twist and fold and loop back and braid until he had a respectable and decorative eye patch fashioned.

"Not my best- but it will do until I've time to work leather."

The flinch is an unconscious reaction, she didn't see his hand move until he was already gently pushing her hair back. Gaze lowered she holds still while he looks over the patch, a soft breath passing through her lips when he turns away to check the shelves. She had noticed the habit starting to develop but getting caught felt worse than the staring.

When he starts to work over a scarf into a patch she watches him quietly, a hand lifted to the temporary patch still over her left eye when he presents the finished cloth. It was certainly a lot prettier than what she's got now.

"I...that's lovely Zev, you don't have to go out of your way to do anything for me."

"Yes, I do." He motions for her to remove the patch currently over her eye so he might tie the one in his hands in place. "Every woman deserves to feel beautiful, even when injured or recovering. I was unable to render aid when you might have needed it by being a fool- let me help with this much, mm? Eyepatches are quite dashing when they are made properly."

"If..it makes you feel any better it wasn't anything you would have been able to stop."

She hesitates a moment, hand frozen over the patch before she unloops the strings from around her head to lower the patch. The burns were still bright pink, her eye itself a deeper and uglier shade but still whole. It still made her shudder to look at it.

"Ah, that is not so bad. Why if I put this on here-" And he does so, wrapping the soft fabric in place with but a few twists of the wrist and nimble work of deft fingers. "And brush your hair like so..."

He combs it into and out of place here and there, gives these locks a light tug, those a quick twist, and the bulk of the headband is hidden and Sabriel has a stylish scarf for an eye patch. "And you are much more lovely. Now give us a smile, mm?"

As Zevran fusses over her Sabriel's momentarily overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia. How many times had she and her friends at the College made each other up for an event or just a morale booster? It's a refreshingly sweet memory in the light of all that they've been through. The new patch felt cool and soft against the burns, and as Sabriel ran her fingers lightly over the braided cloth she couldn't help a fond smile from curling her lips.

"Zev...thank you."

"You are most welcome, Sabriel." He rests his hands on her shoulders for a moment, taking in the small smile. It was more than she might have otherwise and that, to him, is worth counting as a win. He'd done well for a man recently dead. Go team. Hurrah!

"Perhaps I will make you something to match the patch, mm? Something dashing and dangerous."

Sabriel lets her hand fall to give his fingers on her shoulder a light squeeze, her smile growing a little at his next idea.

"I hope you're not planning on turning me into a pirate."

"...I wasn't until you said that. Pirates are very attractive to young men, especially one with so commanding a voice and figure as yours! Perhaps a coat? No, no, I've not enough leather in the right material for that. A hat? Mmm. No. I have it!" He snaps, grinning. "A surprise."

"What am I going to do with you, Zevran."

Oh dear what has she started. Shaking her head with a breath of a chuckle she takes a step back.

"You are too kind, remind me to find more of those chocolates you liked from Christmas. Or some nice coffee."

"Find me endearing no matter the light?" He smirks and pats her shoulder before slinging his hands in his pockets, a causal, harmless posture he picked up from Jack and Eugene.

"Oh- those chocolates would be repayment enough."

"Maybe."

She gives his elbow a light nudge with hers, her own posture a good deal less tense than when she had first run into him.

"I'll keep my eye out for them then. In the meantime...do you need to get home? Or is there anything I can help you with at all?"

"I should probably get back to the house. Jack and Eugene and Max have probably been wretched without me." He shrugs, as though he couldn't leave the men alone for longer than a moment before it all went to hell, not as though he'd died.

Sabriel nods, for a moment lost in the memory of back in the Draft with Jack at her side trying so hard not to lose composure when he'd told her what had happened. They had both cried, but even afterwards Jack was still trying to hide the grief.

"Yes, that would be best. They've missed you dearly."

"...After all the fuss I made about them being careful." And it had been quite a fuss. He'd wanted them safe. Careful. And he'd been the one to die.

"Ah. Then I suspect you'll be in for a bit of a lecture. I hope they don't hold it against you for too long."

But you know, just enough so that Zevran doesn't let himself get dead again. Sharing tears with someone so generally happy and light as Jack was a little heartbreaking.

"...Was there no way it could have been prevented?"

"I would have earned it. I have, in fact, earned it. But they will be merciful, I think." Maybe. Maybe they won't want him back. He's uncertain.

Could it have been prevented? It's an excellent question to which he has no answer.

"...in such a way that I would be able to live with myself afterward? No."

Not altogether unlike Max and Sabriel's eye then it seems.

"They'll come around Zev, just give them a little time."

"It is not something I know how to explain or laugh away. I've never done this before- not the dying. The. Having those that might miss you afterward bit. That is new."

"How would you handle it if you were in their shoes?"

"...I honestly cannot say." He hadn't taken it well at all when Katniss died and returned but that was different. Wasn't it?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fifth Drop - Again, until you decide to drop. Now I'm so high, so high, so high [Action]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject