[ his wounds might’ve been healed to an emergency’s limit— he no longer bleeds, they still burn, but eren . . . feels numb to it. as if it were just mere background noise that he could get through just fine if he ignored it. which, in truth, might work out. his general pain threshold is extraordinary, enough that he’s able to inflict it onto himself with little second thoughts.
a problem as much as it was a red, waving flag. he hopes they’re closer to home. home . . . he’s calling this home, in his head. speaking of heads, his feels light. he might be durable, but he still has blood and lost plenty of it. it’s swimming, and one of his hind legs misstep. ]
What else are you working on?
[ just something to compress what he’s feeling. it felt like a cool cloth to the sting. he wasn’t going to be avoidant for long, there were still questions and answers lurking at the back of his mind. when he’s sitting and they’re in their quiet place, he’ll bring it up. ]
[his frame wobbles, but there's no chance for Eren's steps to waver. his witch picks up the slack in an instant, leaning in far quicker than his bulk ought to permit to fill in any holes punched in the dragon's gait. the downward slide of the armor is what he's been anxiously on the lookout for, after all, and the readiness is a comfort even if being right isn't. he'll carry him home if it comes to that...he won't allow more pain to befall the man.]
Lot of healing magic...'nd protection spells. Elemental stuff - mostly lightning. Dunno why, but it comes a lot easier than the others.
[...some transformation charms as well. just in case.
they were just a conversation's length away from home now, from that door he'd unwittingly left flung open to the world at large in his panic to reach Eren's side. to give his friend something other than the shared struggle to distract himself with, Styx adds a quiet confession to his reply.]
...I wanna get better, you know? At keeping people safe.
[ had he left the door open or was that recent? a spell he didn’t catch or . . . no, it was left ajar. wide open in a rush. eren muses quietly through styx’s progress, but holds his breath when the last words reach him. it receives both a slight physical and emotional reaction; a stroke to his chest, a drop of his heart to his gut and then to his throat before dissipating with a swallow. he’s said that so much growing up. heard others beyond the walls voice the same. in his heavier steps through the door frame, he puts the rest of his strength in walking— he will not be a further burden. ]
Or else I’ll die . . . Without accomplishing a thing. [ that was always his motivator, and it still always would be. he nods to it. it might help that styx’s electricity magic earns a slight boost from eren’s elemental: fire, heat. condensed energy that leads to burning. ] I’d say that all the time, to keep moving.
[ because sometimes he’d break down terribly when he wasn’t good enough or lagged behind. he always did, when he was younger, and once in a while, at times like these— he’s reminded that he still could be that person if he wasn’t careful. ]
[the brief stoppage in his own throat feels so natural for the manner in which today has unfolded that Styx doesn't think it useful to attempt to sort out whether it had come from himself or his bonded. even without the connection, their fatigue was synchronized through experience.
it's good that Eren seems to have gathered up enough energy to enter their home under his own power; this allows the drummer just enough time to properly shut the door at last. the chill seeping through the entryway would take a few minutes to dissipate, but that was fine. their presence would warm things better than the insulation.]
's hard sometimes, isn't it? You're pushing with all you got, 'nd it still feels like you're standing still.
[effort didn't work like that, he knew, but when progress remained so infinitesimal for so long it became more of a struggle to hold onto a logical perspective. what good was conjuring up flames if his friends still cried?
thoughts like that...they came from the dark hole in his mind like grasping hands. years of worthless could never erode as easily as one might hope, not when they carried the whispering voices of all the people he'd disappointed in his life. how much momentum could motivation build up, really? his desire to protect had never flared higher, but at times it still felt like nothing against the solidity of his natural limitations.
...not right now, though. there's enough weight being shared between them as it was, and - today, perhaps, it was better to stand still. how else could he brace anything against himself?]
[ the couch seemed so close yet so far away. how many steps was it, five? ten? he was beyond his limit of walking and he knew that when he’d hit those cushions he’d be out of commission for the rest of the day. as it should be— he should be getting rest. eren does his best to get there on his own, borrowing the drummer’s broad arms once more when he simply couldn’t coordinate. the rest of the way would have to be a descent, down with care and to the side of him that was numbing less. the rest, including his tail, fell limp at soon as there was something holding him from beneath: cushions, thank god.
he needs to breathe, now. his shoulders ache and in a matter of moments the pressure on his side is uncomfortable, but, endurable. his neck was bandaged underneath his winter poncho, but it was wet and beginning to seep through. just a dot from the outer layer that would soon reveal a larger stain on hospital gauze. ]
Forward is all I ever see. [ even if he feels like he’s running in place. his words come between breaths, and while his limbs feel heavy to beckon his witch, something in their bond does it for him: a suggestion, if anything, to come closer and stay close. ] I wouldn’t’ve made it this far if it weren’t for that.
[ he tries removing part of the poncho, his talons catch on the fabric’s hood, and bbrrrrrrp. it rips, and he can’t pull further without ripping it more. ]
[forward is all that Styx sees now, tugged by the strings of his bond and his own tender heart. oh, that's - he'd laugh any other day, he thinks, for how much this reminds him of his cat getting stuck in blankets after trying to 'hunt' them. even now there's a faint ripple of affection as he crouches, reaching out with fingers only slightly less clumsy than the claws he began to untangle.
it's not really funny, he knows. many have been the days when simple little accidents like this have felt like blows powerful enough to hurl him from the precipice.]
'm glad. [softly spoken, with a tone that doesn't require response if answering proves too taxing.] Guess that's kinda selfish, but...'m real glad I got to meet you.
[even like this? a traitorous voice in the drummer's mind whispers, gleeful with its malicious doubt. Styx flinches when his own broad hands tear more of that poor poncho but still answers back to himself with a resounding yes. especially like this.]
[ at least he could tell that the chuckle was a fond one, and not that he was being funny. then again, eren could argue about this being an ironic thing of the ages. his talons are lax and easy to pull out of his problematic catch when the hands working him are dexterous in comparison. that, and not as sharp (at all).
eren has had his long, ongoing fair share of selfishness, and maybe styx was right in a way— but eren couldn't see it as selfish. there was nothing left for him. redemption was out of his sights and he hardly thought he deserved the chance. he'd hit his all time low and there was still someone out here to look at him the way no one could. maybe it was selfish of eren to say that he enjoyed that, that he caressed the thought every night and clutched it tight into the unwinding talons in the drummer's hands now.
but it still made every part of him, not just his gut, tremor with cloying solace when all he knew was hell— and that haven wasn't something his own imagination created for his safety. styx was real, not the vast expanse of cloudy freedom in the sky as millions were plowed beneath him. ]
I'm glad you're here with me, Styx. [ there's a strain in his voice, one that makes the deepness of it go soft and quiet as the sting in his nose burns his eyes once he takes styx's hands in his own. ] So that makes two of us.
[very carefully, the drummer threads their fingers together and gives them a gentle squeeze. it can't be selfishness if they're both happy, right? that's just...gratitude, in its rawest form.
no wonder Eren wasn't the only one whose eyes were burning.]
's a good match.
[and not an ounce of hesitation. there is a sureness in his heart that not even today can chase out, with all his deficiencies laid bare. after all, this too was his reality.
he'd thought to fetch the first aid kit after making sure that his friend was situated neatly but that plan has changed. bandages could always be applied later...but this sort of salve could only be applied here and now.]
[ the silence is just as stifling as eren trying to hold in a sniff too loud to the point that the still intact veins in his neck strain. with an exhale, it comes out— and the fact that he's in need of crying to just fucking put it out there. he wasn't saddened. he wasn't alone for once, how could he be anything but beholden?
how much space is still vacant for two massive beasts to share a sofa? it might not be too much, but maybe for just a few minutes . . . it could work? eren's laced fingers and talons in between tug kindly once, then twice at the spaces that had him generously holding styx's hand and languidly trying to shift his body into the back cushions until his spines are smoothed along the curve of his vertebrae. the pull on the drummer's arm is guiding into the space he's made for him to lay on his side with him, for just a few moments.
it wasn't like he was dying; maybe the bandages really could wait. ]
[this was good as well...Styx had wanted to do this anyway after everything was wrapped up, and it feels as if some tension in his chest has been released when he feels the other man give his hands a little pull.
can they really fit properly on this single piece of furniture? not really. but the drummer sure as hell doesn't care, not when he's settling very carefully into the spot reserved just for him. he's glad to be the one on the end, his back arced against the world; Eren could cry in safety now, without fear of his vulnerability being plucked away by undeserving eyes.
it's something that could easily be spoken aloud, but he feels words may shatter the entire moment. he allows it to dampen their bond instead and focuses on foreheads nearly brushing, legs pressed up against one another. there isn't room between them for much more than a sigh now but he likes it, tangled hands still held between one another. if he's careful he can hear the rhythm of both their heartbeats.]
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no subject
a problem as much as it was a red, waving flag. he hopes they’re closer to home. home . . . he’s calling this home, in his head. speaking of heads, his feels light. he might be durable, but he still has blood and lost plenty of it. it’s swimming, and one of his hind legs misstep. ]
What else are you working on?
[ just something to compress what he’s feeling. it felt like a cool cloth to the sting. he wasn’t going to be avoidant for long, there were still questions and answers lurking at the back of his mind. when he’s sitting and they’re in their quiet place, he’ll bring it up. ]
no subject
Lot of healing magic...'nd protection spells. Elemental stuff - mostly lightning. Dunno why, but it comes a lot easier than the others.
[...some transformation charms as well. just in case.
they were just a conversation's length away from home now, from that door he'd unwittingly left flung open to the world at large in his panic to reach Eren's side. to give his friend something other than the shared struggle to distract himself with, Styx adds a quiet confession to his reply.]
...I wanna get better, you know? At keeping people safe.
no subject
Or else I’ll die . . . Without accomplishing a thing. [ that was always his motivator, and it still always would be. he nods to it. it might help that styx’s electricity magic earns a slight boost from eren’s elemental: fire, heat. condensed energy that leads to burning. ] I’d say that all the time, to keep moving.
[ because sometimes he’d break down terribly when he wasn’t good enough or lagged behind. he always did, when he was younger, and once in a while, at times like these— he’s reminded that he still could be that person if he wasn’t careful. ]
no subject
it's good that Eren seems to have gathered up enough energy to enter their home under his own power; this allows the drummer just enough time to properly shut the door at last. the chill seeping through the entryway would take a few minutes to dissipate, but that was fine. their presence would warm things better than the insulation.]
's hard sometimes, isn't it? You're pushing with all you got, 'nd it still feels like you're standing still.
[effort didn't work like that, he knew, but when progress remained so infinitesimal for so long it became more of a struggle to hold onto a logical perspective. what good was conjuring up flames if his friends still cried?
thoughts like that...they came from the dark hole in his mind like grasping hands. years of worthless could never erode as easily as one might hope, not when they carried the whispering voices of all the people he'd disappointed in his life. how much momentum could motivation build up, really? his desire to protect had never flared higher, but at times it still felt like nothing against the solidity of his natural limitations.
...not right now, though. there's enough weight being shared between them as it was, and - today, perhaps, it was better to stand still. how else could he brace anything against himself?]
no subject
he needs to breathe, now. his shoulders ache and in a matter of moments the pressure on his side is uncomfortable, but, endurable. his neck was bandaged underneath his winter poncho, but it was wet and beginning to seep through. just a dot from the outer layer that would soon reveal a larger stain on hospital gauze. ]
Forward is all I ever see. [ even if he feels like he’s running in place. his words come between breaths, and while his limbs feel heavy to beckon his witch, something in their bond does it for him: a suggestion, if anything, to come closer and stay close. ] I wouldn’t’ve made it this far if it weren’t for that.
[ he tries removing part of the poncho, his talons catch on the fabric’s hood, and bbrrrrrrp. it rips, and he can’t pull further without ripping it more. ]
no subject
it's not really funny, he knows. many have been the days when simple little accidents like this have felt like blows powerful enough to hurl him from the precipice.]
'm glad. [softly spoken, with a tone that doesn't require response if answering proves too taxing.] Guess that's kinda selfish, but...'m real glad I got to meet you.
[even like this? a traitorous voice in the drummer's mind whispers, gleeful with its malicious doubt. Styx flinches when his own broad hands tear more of that poor poncho but still answers back to himself with a resounding yes. especially like this.]
no subject
eren has had his long, ongoing fair share of selfishness, and maybe styx was right in a way— but eren couldn't see it as selfish. there was nothing left for him. redemption was out of his sights and he hardly thought he deserved the chance. he'd hit his all time low and there was still someone out here to look at him the way no one could. maybe it was selfish of eren to say that he enjoyed that, that he caressed the thought every night and clutched it tight into the unwinding talons in the drummer's hands now.
but it still made every part of him, not just his gut, tremor with cloying solace when all he knew was hell— and that haven wasn't something his own imagination created for his safety. styx was real, not the vast expanse of cloudy freedom in the sky as millions were plowed beneath him. ]
I'm glad you're here with me, Styx. [ there's a strain in his voice, one that makes the deepness of it go soft and quiet as the sting in his nose burns his eyes once he takes styx's hands in his own. ] So that makes two of us.
no subject
no wonder Eren wasn't the only one whose eyes were burning.]
's a good match.
[and not an ounce of hesitation. there is a sureness in his heart that not even today can chase out, with all his deficiencies laid bare. after all, this too was his reality.
he'd thought to fetch the first aid kit after making sure that his friend was situated neatly but that plan has changed. bandages could always be applied later...but this sort of salve could only be applied here and now.]
no subject
how much space is still vacant for two massive beasts to share a sofa? it might not be too much, but maybe for just a few minutes . . . it could work? eren's laced fingers and talons in between tug kindly once, then twice at the spaces that had him generously holding styx's hand and languidly trying to shift his body into the back cushions until his spines are smoothed along the curve of his vertebrae. the pull on the drummer's arm is guiding into the space he's made for him to lay on his side with him, for just a few moments.
it wasn't like he was dying; maybe the bandages really could wait. ]
no subject
can they really fit properly on this single piece of furniture? not really. but the drummer sure as hell doesn't care, not when he's settling very carefully into the spot reserved just for him. he's glad to be the one on the end, his back arced against the world; Eren could cry in safety now, without fear of his vulnerability being plucked away by undeserving eyes.
it's something that could easily be spoken aloud, but he feels words may shatter the entire moment. he allows it to dampen their bond instead and focuses on foreheads nearly brushing, legs pressed up against one another. there isn't room between them for much more than a sigh now but he likes it, tangled hands still held between one another. if he's careful he can hear the rhythm of both their heartbeats.]