middaeg | Emotions or images, drawn with a single line [CLOSED]

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Emotions or images, drawn with a single line [CLOSED]

Who: Berserker (Cú Chulainn Alter) and close CR
When: After his resurrection
Where: Around Aefenglom
What: Bittersweet reunions and meetings for everyone!
Warnings: Depression, check tag headers for specifics

[ 1. Back to work ]

[ Not even a day later, Berserker is back at work at the Sly Seadog. Nothing is different, at least that's what he tells himself. The truth is a lot is different. There's a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he's forgotten something. Even more pressing is the weakness he feels. His strength has been sapped, leaving as he was when he first arrived in Aefenglom. It's obvious to everyone that something isn't right when he struggles to deal with a problem customer. This was second nature to him on any other night, but now he needs help to bounce someone.

Frustration builds in him until the bartender makes him sit at the bar for a few minute. The dragon hangs his head as he accepts the drink. It's only as he looks up that he recognizes someone familiar. Annoying... ]

What? I'm fine...I'm just taking a break.

[ It's a lie. ]

[ 2. Harbor ]

[ After the incident at the Seadog, Berserker takes a walk. Some fresh air will clear his head, won't it? It'll at least distract him from the buzzing in his brain and how weak he feels. He makes his way towards the docks, where the stray dogs and cats congregate. They're used to seeing him around – and expect food from him. He's not empty-handed as he takes a seat, offering some food scraps to the dogs.

One of the cats crawls into his lap and makes itself at home there. Berserker seems more peaceful, at least, to the point he doesn't immediately notice he's being watched. When he does notice, he doesn't look up. ]

It's calm tonight, isn't it? They're not squabbling for scraps the way they usually do...

[ It's a friend. It's okay to vulnerable, isn't it? ]

[ 3. Wildcard ]

[ Got an idea? Did we plot something out? Drop me a starter or PM/discord me glitzkrieg#0673 ! ]

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[ The fight leaves him as quickly as it came. His defensive posture fades and he averts his gaze. These outbursts are embarrassing...He should be able to control himself better. It's almost as bad as it was when he started feeling a broader range of emotions. ]

Because it shouldn't matter to you. Either you'd see me again or you wouldn't...You don't need to go out of your way to confirm it.

[ Berserker doesn't -- can't -- understand why anyone who isn't bonded to him cares about him. Even now, the concept of friends is difficult for him to accept. Or maybe he's just backsliding because dying fucked him up. It's hard to tell. ]

You're so... fucking stupid.

[ Waver's shoulders slump, and his head drops forward. He's stepped into Berserker's space enough that his forehead brushes the dragon's chest when he looks down. ]

Just stop it. Stop saying things like that.

...you'd better not have said anything so awful to Diarmuid already.

[ He doesn't move when Waver's head rests against his chest. His posture remains rigid, like he's unable or, more likely, unwilling to do anything to push him away. ]

...No. I didn't say anything like that to him. He's...different, you know that. [ Like that excuses his attitude at all. ] I don't know why you care so much, that's all.

[ It's like he's fallen back into his old habits again, like his death reset his progress in someways. ]

You're an asshole...

[ Waver mumbles in response, and when Berserker doesn't move away or try to push him off, he slowly brings his arms up and around the dragon's waist. ]

If you can't figure out why I would care, then settle for the fact I'd be angry if you hurt Diarmuid.

[ Again, he doesn't push Waver away, but he doesn't reciprocate the hug. Berserker just lets him do as he pleases -- that's more or less been his reaction to everyone's grief. ]

...You felt the worst of that, didn't you?

[ The loss of a bond by proxy. He wasn't aware of the pain the Diarmuid experienced; by the time he was resurrected, the sorrow had turned to absolutely overwhelming relief. ]

Did he... [ He hesitates. Is it really his place to ask this? ] Did he turn to you?

[ Waver squeezes him harder, and nods silently against Berserker's chest so he can feel it. Twice, once in answer to each question.

Yes. He'd felt it.

Yes. Diarmuid had called him, an absolute wreck, and Waver had done what little he could to keep him from falling apart until Berserker woke up again. ]

[ It's only when he feels those nods that he finally returns the hug. It feels like someone twisted a knife into his heart, sharp and unbelievably painful. He could never repay Waver for what he'd done for Diarmuid...How painful that must have been for the both of them. ]

...Thank you for being there for him.

[ Because he couldn't have been there -- because he was dead. Emotions he doesn't understand nor quite know how to describe bubble up. He tries his best to choke them back down, but he can't. Tears well up in his eyes, a frustrating reaction to overwhelming emotion. They won't go away, either, and try as he might, he can't fight them.

How embarrassing. ]

That's nothing to thank me for. He's my Bonded too. [ First, in fact. Though Waver won't pretend their relationship is the same, nor does he want it to be. ]

It's not like I did it for you.

[ But then he feels Berserker's chest quiver on the exhale, strong arms curling around him in return. He doesn't need to look up to see the tears; the way Berserker's heart thumps and the struggle to control his breath gives him away just as well. Waver doesn't say anything to show he noticed, though.

More quietly, he adds: ]

I'm just glad you're okay.

I know you didn't.

[ It's harder to maintain the strong facade when he talks. His voice shakes, frustrating him further. His death has loosened his control over his emotions once again and they come in sharp, violent bursts. Sorrow blends with the sudden burst of anger burning at himself. His hands clutch tighter at Waver as he fights through the emotions. The tears fall, yet he doesn't truly allow himself to cry.

Unpacking all of the emotions is too much right now. Berserker lets go of him suddenly and looks up. Something to distract himself from the pain. ]

I...I should take care of that glass...

[ Waver doesn't try to pull away; he lets Berserker hold him as long and as tightly as he needs, and though he can tell the dragon is crying, he doesn't call attention to it.

It's not until Berserker lets go first that Waver finally takes a step back. ]

I'll help you.

[ With the glass, he means. But he means it for more than that too, if Berserker wants. ]

I'll go get the broom.

If you insist.

[ Because he knows Waver will, no matter what it is. He wipes his face on his sleeve. It seems the weakness extends beyond the physical to the emotional...Annoying. Berserker heads to the kitchen and just sort of stares at the glass on the floor. Shattered like so many pieces of his own life. ]

My body is too weak to be useful right now...

You don't need to be useful right now.

[ Following him, Waver touches his arm, trying to pull his attention from the shattered glass -- and pull him back, away from the mess, if Berserker will allow it. ]

It's not a big deal. I'll take care of it. You sit down and rest.

It's more important that you feel better and get your strength back than you cleaning this up right now, especially since you don't have to.

[ Because he doesn't have to do everything on his own. ]

[ He does let himself get pulled back. As much as he doesn't want to just go sit back and let someone else handle this, he knows Waver is right. Berserker is far too used to doing everything on his own, refusing to let anyone help him or make anything easier for him. It's simply how he lived for so long -- even over a year out from that, he can't let old habits go. ]

Fine. Do whatever makes you feel better.

[ While he "accepts" the help, he still pushes back against it. ]

[ Waver sighs but doesn't 'correct' him again. If that's what Berserker needs to tell himself, fine. At least he's stopped trying to force himself to keep going when it's not even necessary.

Waver makes sure he goes to sit back down since he seems to be feeling weak, offering him a fresh glass of water when he does. ]

Here. Just rest a minute. No complaining.

[ With a final stern look, Waver returns to the mess with the broom and a rag. It doesn't take him too long to take care of the bulk of it. When it's mostly clean, he just goes back with the damp rag to crouch down and take a long, close look around the area on the floor to make sure he's gotten any stray glass so no one steps on it. ]

[ He accepts the glass of water a little bit better than the offered help, at least. No complaints (verbal ones, anyway -- that didn't stop him from glaring) come as he takes the glass. Such a simple task that shouldn't have ended the way it did...Maybe that's why he's so frustrated. The simplest of tasks have become arduous with the newfound (hopefully temporary) weakness. ]

...I have never felt this weak, not even with the limiter the Coven placed on me before.

You only need some rest. There's nothing to freak out over.

[ He doesn't actually know that for certain. He doesn't know anyone who's died here and been resurrected by the Coven. Still, it seems to stand to reason...

If they were able to bring him back and didn't warn of any major issues, as Waver must assume they hadn't if Diarmuid hadn't let him know, then it seems likely that Berserker only needs to have a bit of patience. ]

I'm sure your strength will return faster if you just give your body and mind time to recover. That means letting people help you if you need it.

[ With a huff, Waver straightens up again, convinced there's no more glass on the floor, and goes to wash his hands. After a few moments, he starts preparing a kettle of water and some cups on the counter while it heats. ]

Tea?

[ He doesn't want to just accept that. As far as he's come, relying on others for strength is something that still doesn't come naturally to him. There's no other choice right now, though, and that fact only serves to frustrate him. Berserker sighs. ]

...Fine. Tea is fine.

[ Fine is as good as he's getting, it seems. Waver will accept that.

He nods, and when the water is boiled, he sets about making a teapot and bringing it over. Then the cups. ]

It needs to steep a minute.

[ Waver declares when he puts the teapot down on the table between them, hands on his hips, looking down at Berserker on the sofa. ]

I was thinking of staying for a bit. Reading a book or something.

You don't need to talk to me unless you want to.

[ The offer is twofold-- silent company, just having someone nearby; or an ear to listen if he feels like actually talking about any of it. Waver knows him better than to push any harder right now. It wouldn't do any good. He's gotten the yelling out of his system now, besides. ]

[ The company is fine -- he doesn't really want to talk to anyone about what happened. His death was eventual and destined to be a shitshow. It's still a particularly painful thorn in his side. Maybe sometime he'd talk about it, but now is not that time. ]

...Alright. [ It doesn't feel awkward to have him here. If anything, it's familiar and comfortable. That's what he needs right now. Berserker settles into the sofa with a sigh. ] It's...good to be back.

[ Too much unfinished business left for him to truly die at peace. ]

[ Waver's expression softens, hands falling to his sides. ]

I'm glad you think so. And that you're back, too.

[ As promised, he only takes a moment to grab a book off the shelf nearby before settling down on the couch beside him, close enough for Berserker to lean against him or touch him if he likes. He'll pour the tea when it's steeped, and they can enjoy some relaxing, peaceful silence. Waver is a good companion for quiet; Berserker doesn't have to be alone. ]

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