⚜awake o'sleeper. ⚜

⚜𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎'𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑. ⚜

[archerlangley]

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐘.

“Do you think–” Reshdva starts, and falls silent. They know Azrael lives in the Capitol, but surely he can’t be dead. Right? “It didn’t kill everybody. Maybe…”

She trails off, both of them not quite sure how to end that sentence. There’s every chance Azrael is dead, suffocated along with scores of others. Every chance that his body is one of god knows how many. And the thought hurts; not just on behalf of Archer, but Grayson’s wound up liking the guy too, wound up wanting to see him safe and happy.

In the end, Grayson says, stubborn, “He’s too much of a persnickety asshole to die. He probably saw the smoke coming and gave it a lecture until it left him alone.”

        ❛  𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘,  𝐈  𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊,  ❜    he  says,  addressing  his  brother  despite  the  way  green  eyes  linger  on  red  fur.  there  is  a  whine  that  travels  up  from  archer’s  feet  as  a  long  tail  swishes,  and  smacks  against  his  ankle.  it  brings  him  little  comfort,  though  the  effort  on  wisp’s  part  is  appreciated.    ❛  i  can’t  afford  to.  ❜    and  grayson’s  words  –––  they’re  appreciated,  but  again,  he  finds  no  solace  in  them.   ❛  why  wouldn’t  he  have  found  us ?  why  wouldn’t’ve  marli ?  surely  someone  would’ve  passed  through.  ❜   

[archerlangley]

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐘

@archerlangley​

“We should have known this was going to happen.” They’re at a distance from the Capitol, far enough away that they’re not in danger from the black, but close enough to see the way it’s swarming the city, close enough to see figures fading in and out. “I mean, fuck, it’s not like it was going to just stop.”

        𝐇𝐄'𝐒  𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍  𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐄  𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐓𝐖𝐎  𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒.  the  smoke  had  come  like  a flood ;  they’d  seen  it  from  where  they’d  held  up  for  the  night  –––  the  way  it  ravaged  and  devoured.    ❛  we  couldn’t  have  known.  ❜    archer  says  it  like  he  needs  to  be  convinced  of  it,  like  the  guilt  isn’t  threatening  to  swallow  him  whole.  they  saw  people  fleeing  the  gates  from  a  distance.  it  was  sudden  and  then  it  was  still,  hovering  like  a  storm  cloud  descended  upon a  city.  who  was  left  alive ?  how  were  they  to  know ?    ❛  we  couldn’t  have–––  i  wouldn’t  have  left  him  there.  ❜    he  doesn’t  feel  the  need  to  clarify. 

[archerlangley]

graysonlangley​:

“A rumor about a guy that knows a thing,” Reshdva says dryly. “It’s probably nothing.”

“But. Still. Could be something.” Grayson knows exactly how convincing he sounds. Which is to say, not at all. They’re both watching the way Archer’s moving a little slower – and yeah, they are too, but less slow than they were before the eastern glaciers, so that’s something at least – and Grayson thinks about telling Archer to stay. He only half thinks about it, not sure if he’s serious about it.

Reshdva decides it’s worth a try. “You don’t have to come,” she says. Slow, hesitant. “It’s not that we don’t want you with us, it’s just– we can take care of ourselves, if you’d rather stay.”

        𝐀  𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑  𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓  𝐀  𝐆𝐔𝐘  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒  𝐀  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 ?    ❛  yeah,  ❜    archer  snorts,    ❛  sounds  like  a  real  solid  lead.  ❜    his  legs  are  still  stiff  from  running  himself  ragged  as  the  portier  family’s  perfect  little  messenger  the  day  prior.  but  it’s  nothing  a  good  night’s  sleep  won’t  fix ;  along  with  the  fact  that  the  tip  he  received  was  good  enough  to  afford  the  rental  of  two  horses  for  their  next  ill — advised  adventure.  which  is  why  he  stops  in  his  crossing  to  the  fireplace  at  grayson’s   words,  turning  a  suspicious  gaze  on  his  brother.    ❛  woah,  woah,  woah–––  ❜    green  eyes  narrow.    ❛  i  have  a  laundry  list  of  empirical  proof  of  the  opposite,  gray.  like  hell  i’m––– ❜  letting  you  out  of  my   sight,  he  fails  to  say.    ❛  –––just.  no,  forget  it.  not  happening.  ❜    

[archerlangley]

𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐇𝐘𝐄.

@archerlangley​

          Azrael’s lips were downturned, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he made his way outside. His patrons rarely commented on his coming and going and that hadn’t changed since his return, but he was mindful that his look of worry could cause unnecessary rumor. There was no shame, no qualms, with visiting Archer, but he didn’t wish to welcome speculation as to why he’d been pacing so much. He wet his lips, stopping at last when he spotted familiar hair, familiar green eyes, coming up the path.

        They were far enough away from the house to not be overheard either, to afford them a semblance of privacy, and Azra couldn’t help the way his lips twitched into a smile. He knew Archer would come back. He’d been telling himself that for the entire week. Archer would come back, though he could never guess what state he’d be in, or if he’d had any fortune in finding something with Grayson. Something ugly unfurled in his chest at the thought of Grayson, selfish as it may be. Why couldn’t Archer simply stay with him? Still, his mood lifted considerably. “I was preparing a search party, Archer. Took you long enough,” he pouted.

        𝐈𝐓'𝐒  𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐍  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑  𝐀𝐋𝐋  𝐀𝐓  𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄.  the  gardens  leading  up  to  the  grand  home  with  high  steeples  is  a  path  archer  hadn’t  trodden  in  what  felt  like  time  beyond  measure.  it  had  been  years,  in  truth ;  years  and  the  sinking  feeling  of  something  being  lost,  or  irreparably  broken.  and  yet  here  they  were,  meeting  in  the  middle  of  lush  greenery  that  has  once  dazzled  him,  but  now  seems  to  lack  its  once  envied  luster.  perhaps  it  is  because  his  eyes  don’t  stray  far  from  a  raven  sweep  of  hair  for  very  long.    ❛  so  dramatic,  ❜    he  accuses,  lighthearted  in  his  teasing  as  warmth  creases  in  at  the  corners  of  his   lips,   smile  spilling  sunlight  as  he  approaches.  he  pulls  the  man  into  a  hug,  arms  wrapping  tight  for  the  moment.  when   he  steps  back,  he  knocks  a  knuckle  against  the  beak  of  what  appears  to  be  a  new  mask.    ❛  we’re  back  for  a  few  weeks.  thought  i’d  say  hello  to  a  certain  little  birdie.  ❜ 

[archerlangley]

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐘.

@archerlangley​

The old house hasn’t changed; and yet, it’s changed immeasurably.

Every room is still the same size, but everything feels so much smaller. The kitchen door frame still has the scratch Grayson carved into it when he was twelve, trying to measure how much he was growing, but the door itself doesn’t have the same rusty squeak. It’s still old and patchwork, but Archer’s patched over the wounds a little, repairing some of the damage. And Grayson still automatically steps over the creaky floorboard in front of what used to be their father’s room, still reflexively thinks don’t wake him up or he’ll be mad.

Their dad’s room has changed. Archer has claimed it for himself, but the window’s still the same, the cupboard’s still in the same place – and as Grayson lingers in the doorway of it, waiting for Archer to pack his stuff for their newest journey, he finds himself staring at the familiar bits, expression pinched, gaze distant.

Reshdva, seated at his feet, decides to do the talking for them. “Remember to bring your warm jacket, the one you forgot last time,” she helpfully tells Archer. “Sandstrom gets cold this time of year.”

        ❛  𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃  𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓  𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒,  𝐇𝐔𝐇 ?  ❜    the  house  itself  is  far  less  drafty  than  when  they  were  children ;  needle  and  patchwork  archer  had  nailed  into  the   walls  of  their  childhood  home  years  after  grayson  had  left.  it  feels  smaller  now  that  they’ve  been  out  in  the  wide,  wide  world.  confining.  archer  would  almost  prefer  to  sleep  on  a  dirt  floor  blanketed  by  stars  than  within  these  four  walls  after  all  they’ve  been  through.    ❛  what’s  out  there  again ?  ❜    between  the  aches  and  pains  of  manual  labor  to  support  such  ventures,  it’s  sometimes  hard  to  remember  what  it  is  they’re  looking  for  next.

[lukearnold]

[archerlangley]

𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐇𝐘𝐄.

     Azra’s eyes soften, something akin to warmth filling his stomach despite the guilt that has settled in layers still prominently making him ache. Archer still believes in him. He swallows the lump in his throat as he thinks, trying to sort his thoughts into something coherent. “The veil has been known to exist but there are few known works about what lies beyond the veil. What I do know is that Hrafn is more powerful than I could have anticipated. The strength necessary to tear the veil, whilst wounded, is incomparable, Archer,” he murmurs, “We are up against a greater threat than I understood.” His eyes sweep around them, his eyes shifting from the hazy lands surrounding them, to Archer himself. “I thought perhaps I could learn more by talking to him. I permitted my judgement to be clouded by my awe at the presence of a living elf. I did not consider how one might survive. Hrafn did not live because he is weak and fortunate. I am scared, Archer, and I am sorry.” His eyes burn, grief gripping his ribcage tightly, as a coolness settles on the back of his neck, memories of the way Hrafn looked at him, the sound of his voice when he called him Da’len unsettling him. 

        𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒  a  stone  that  leads  to  nowhere,  path  falling  away  into  the  sky  only  to  reappear  to  turn  to  stone  stairs  that  wind  ever  downward.  archer  thinks  he  spots  the  rippling  surface  of  black  water.  he  can’t  be  sure.    ❛  yeah,  well–––  ❜    he  clears  his  throat,  reaches  an  arm  out  to  help  azra  across  the  chasm.    ❛  i  don’t  think  we  coulda  prepared  for  that.  ❜    none  of  them,  magical  glowing  staff  or  not.  how  do  you  fight  something  that  can  tear  the  world  in  two ?    ❛  s’no  reason  to  feel  bad,  raz.  ❜

[archerlangley]

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐘.

Grayson and Reshdva turn identical baffled stares on Archer; the idea clearly hadn’t occurred to him. “Maybe?” he says, unsure. He never did quite get a full explanation on how the people in the glaciers had tied his soul back together – something to do with threads and the veil, binding but remaining separate enough that jagged edges didn’t chafe too hard. He’s not exactly an expert in magic, much less anything to do with souls or the veil.

“If he could, we doubt he’d help now,” Reshdva says dryly. “Arkham did stab him. That seemed to piss him off.”

Grayson snorts, tucks Reshdva under his arm like a football, and keeps pace with Archer. “Should we feel bad that he got stabbed, do you think? Because… I kind of don’t. Okay, yeah, potentially the last elf, but he could have at least said something helpful.”

         𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐒  𝐀  𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑.    ❛  guess  not.  ❜    but  the  words  come  slow,  uncertain ;  as  if  there’s  something  in  the  back  of  archer’s  mind  begging  that  he  try.  the  question  is  that  even  something  you’d  want ?  clawing  from  the  back  of  his  throat,  stopping  only  at  a  tightly  clenched  jaw  with  closed  teeth,  ticking  at  the  corner.  green  eyes  glance  to  resh  as  they  walk,  a  hand  reaching  to  gently  scratch  between  her  ears  as  she’s  ferried  in  his  brother’s  arms.  the  touch  is  strange  –––  almost  intangible.    ❛  i  dunno.  i  doubt  he  wants  us  to  know.  i’m  not  exactly  bettin’  on  black  here.  ❜  

[archerlangley]

𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐇𝐘𝐄.

@archerlangley​

     Azra’s mind continues to spin as guilt settles like sand in his stomach, bit by bit until it’s so heavy he feels ill. He knows it’s not productive, not given their circumstances, but he can’t seem to shake it away. He should have been better with Hrafn, he should have looked closer and tried harder to get true information from him before Arkham’s foolishness. Once more they are in danger, and he cannot stop it from happening. He stands, one hand pushing through his hair, eyes sweeping over Archer. There’s something else that has unsettled him, but he doesn’t want to talk about Hrafn’s look. Not now. “This is remarkable,” He murmurs, eyes downcast, “It is foolish that I do not learn,” He sighs, longing to document what he sees, to describe the world they have found themselves in. 

         ❛  𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐓  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃  𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓  𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 ?  ❜    surely  the  most  knowledgable  man  archer’s  ever  met  has  read  something.  if  azrael  is  as  clueless  as  the  rest  of  them,  they  have  a  real  problem.  then  again,  they’ve  all  just  been  wandering ;  guided  by  the  light  of  that  strange  staff  and  lynessa  saying  she’s  seeing  birds  again.  he’d  advocated  for  her  because  it  got  them  out  of   the   black  last  time  –––   but  it  still  unsettles  him  to  his  core.  something’s  not  right  about  it,  archer  feels  that  in  his  gut  like  an  undeniable  truth.    ❛  raz,  you  gotta  know  a  little,  right ?  ❜  

[archerlangley]

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐘.

@archerlangley​

“So this sucks.”

It doesn’t quite seem a vehement enough word to describe their current situation. There’s a half-formed store to his left that looks like it’s been cut right in half, the road beneath his feet stops and vanishes at weird intervals. There’s a river that just fades into nothingness. It’s horrible to look at, headache-inducing, and it’s making his chest hurt.

Where the fuck are they? Are they dead? Grayson would be pissed if they’re dead.

“But I guess there’s no dragons, so. That’s one thing.” Reshdva looks… kind of weird. Kind of not quite there. Grayson’s holding her out at arm’s length as they squint at each other, and he shoots a long-suffering look at Archer. “I might have preferred the dragons, though.”

         ❛  𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍'𝐒  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐎  𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄  𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄,  𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇.  ❜    nothing  but  smoke  and  mirrors ;  he  now  has  half  a  mind  to  think  it  was   nothing  but  magic.  dragons  are  extinct  –––  elves  apparently  not  as  much.   he  sidesteps  a  crumbling  ledge  that  disappears  into  nothing  but  sky  below  them,  grimacing  as  he  does  so.  when  he  chances  a  sideways  glance  at  resh,  he  gets  that  same  sinking  feeling.    ❛  you  think  he  could  help  you  guys ?  y’know,  if  he  can  do  all  this ?  ❜  

[archerlangley]

𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐇𝐘𝐄.

     archer doesn’t like tea, azrael knows this, but had sought tea for his own comfort, and thus, had chosen the beverage. his eyes soften, dark lashes framing his cheeks damp despite his best efforts, as he nods. “I will find you coffee,” he offers, knowing archer does not prefer tea at all. his tongue presses to the roof of his mouth, just behind his teeth, and for a long moment, he merely watches him, weak and battered. he wants to ease every bruise, to bring color back to his cheeks, to even his breaths, but he cannot. he is no healer, despite owning and having read a multitude of literature on the topic. 

      a thought hits him squarely in the chest at the realization. it dawns on him that he is adept in reading about things, but it seems his ability to carry them out has sorely paled in comparison. no wonder archer didn’t want him on this journey. his thumb brushes gently across archer’s knuckles, desperate to soothe in that way if he can do nothing else. “you’re healing, are you feeling any better?” he nearly whispers, not willing to push and prod too hard just yet. 

        𝐇𝐄  𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐍𝐒.    ❛  god,  i’d  kill  for  a  cup.  ❜    the  thought  of  a  hot  mug  cradled  between  his  hands  is  like  a  distant  dream ;  fingers  twitching  for  want  of  that  warmth,  quelled  when  fingers  slip  into  his  with  familiarity,  long  denied  ease.    ❛  but  i  think  adri  would  kill  you  for  giving  a  dead  man  caffeine.  ❜    a  crude  attempt  at  humor  that  falls  listlessly  from  his  lips,  archer  swallows  thickly  when  he  feels  the  brush  of  a  thumb  against  his  knuckles,  gaze  dropping  to  their  hands  clasped  between  them.    ❛  hey–––––––––  ❜    voice  softer  now,  green  eyes  wide,  glimmering  in  the  flickering  candlelight  of  a  faded  sun.  the  squeeze  of  his  hand  is  a  reassurance  and  a  promise  both,  stronger  than  he  appears.    ❛  i’m  gonna  be  alright.  ❜  

[archerlangley]

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐘.

@archerlangley​

“Can I get you anything? Food? Water? More blankets?” Needless to say, Grayson is feeling Guilty. With a capital G. “A book? You’ve been sleeping a lot, you’ve gotta be bored.”

        𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐒  𝐓𝐎  𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄,  sitting  up  a  task  not  often  endured  as  of  late ;  a  hand  coming  to  cradle  his  ribs  as  he  leans  up  on  an  elbow,  nose  scrunching  with  the  effort.    ❛  what’re  you  gonna  find  in  a  place  like  this ?  an  anthology  on  farming  pastures ?  ❜    there’s  a  teasing  lilt   to   his  tone  –––  lighter  than  it  has  been  with  anyone  else ;  the  visage  of  surety,  veneer  cracking  only  as  he  winces  when  his  breath  hitches.  archer  smiles  through  it.  he  is  the  big  brother,  after  all.    ❛  actually,  y’know  what ?  that  might  not  be  half   bad.  ❜  

[archerlangley]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄.

“i…um brought you some food. i thought maybe you haven’t eaten anything. it’s just soup, so it should be easy to eat.” marli said placing the tray down next to him. her hands fidgeting with each other before she spoke again. “how…um…how are you feeling?”

@archerlangley​

        𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄  𝐈𝐒  𝐔𝐍𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘  𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃,  and  archer  would  be  more  inclined  to  appreciate  it,  were  he  not  in  an  unimaginably  shitty  mood.    ❛  like  death  warmed  over  an’  slapped  backwards ?  ❜    voice  rough,  like  digging  nails  into  gravel  or  scorched  earth.    ❛  thanks  for  the  uh–––  ❜    grimacing  as  he  pulls  himself  more  upright,  leaning  on  an  elbow  for  support ;  his   appetite  has  been  fickle,  but  the  proffered  bowl  is  something  he  can  at  least  keep  down.    ❛  –––soup.  ❜

[archerlangley]

𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐓.

“i told you not to move.” adri told archer as she pressed her hands down against one of the wounds. she knew it was going to hurt but it was important for her to get a feeling of how he was healing up. it felt like she had spent days working and working to get him back to normal. “what is it with you langley brothers and getting hurt? trying to keep me on my toes?” she said, slightly hint of a smile lingering there.

@archerlangley​

        𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍  𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒,  𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐘  𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐇𝐈𝐌,  and  archer  draws  in  breath  like  a  hiss,  face  contorting.  the  freedom  his  ribs  felt  to  expand  and  collapse  was  one  he’d  not  felt  in  what  seemed  like  ages ;  though,  most  of  the  days’  journey  from  medinah  to  caper’s  green  had  been  spent  drifting  in  and  out  of  consciousness,  he  distinctly  recalls  linens  wrapped  tight  to  press  healing  herbs  into  open  wounds  –––  venomous,  stained  red.    ❛  yeah,  ❜    he  huffs,  near  grouches.    ❛  call  it  a  pastime.  ❜  

[archerlangley]

𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐇𝐘𝐄.

@archerlangley​

      “You scared the hell out of me.” Azra croaked, eyelashes damp with unshed tears. He knew Archer was healing, but he was weak, and it wasn’t unusual for patients to take a turn for the worse, and the possibility of seeing him well only to still lose him was unbearable. He strayed closer, hands wrapping around the warm cup of tea he’d managed from their hosts. He was thankful for semi-comfortable lodging, and a dry place for Archer to rest. He exhaled, breath shaky, before he swiped at his eyes, and then his nose. “We need to talk, Archer.” He murmured, knowing it was perhaps not the best timing, but things needed to be shared, needed to be said, before the worst could happen. 

        He exhaled, biting at his lip, “I know you are angry, and perhaps rightfully so, that I am here at all. I have tried my best to not burden you senselessly, to help where I am able with the book,” he began, “but I cannot,” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “I cannot allow us to be at odds, not when I almost lost you to the basilisk, not when I still might.” He whispered, reaching out to take his hand, to squeeze tightly. 

         𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄,  the  cotton  of  the  cot  scratches  the  skin  of  his  back,  but  irritates  him  no  more  than  the  linens  wrapped  tightly  over  his  ribs  and  shoulder,  constricting  his  movement,  his  breath.  the  candle  on  the  bedside  table  is  flickering  flame  against  the  backdrop  of  a  dark  room  at  dusk.  all  is  silent  but  for  the  evening  song  of  chittering  birds  in  the  meadow  beyond  the  windowsill,  and  the  dull  creak  of  warped  floorboards  as  people  pass  beyond  the  door.  but  then,  curiously,  the  door  opens.

          the  door  opens,  and  archer’s  brow  furrows,  a  hand  coming  up  to  momentarily  shield  green  eyes  from  the  light  spilling  in  from  the  hall.  he  wants  to  speak  but  the  cotton – dry  feeling  lodged  at  the  back  of  his  throat  prevents  this.  skin  pekid,  pale,  bruises  blossom  up  from  shoulder  to  neck.  breaths  come,  short,  when  a  hand  takes  his  own.  what  does  he  say ?    ❛  uhm––––––  ❜    he  could  be  dying  –––  it’s  not  exactly  something  he  wants  to  talk  about.  but,  not  for  the  first  time,  he  gets  caught  up  in  blue  eyes.  he  croaks,  voice  ragged  from  disuse,    ❛  thanks  for  the  tea ?  ❜  

[thewinchesterdaily]

[archerlangley]

𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐇𝐘𝐄.

     Azrael’s lips turn down. He knows better than to look over his shoulder at the others Archer mentions, knows it is rude, but he tucks his chin anyhow, blue eyes taking in the strangers and acquaintances, before he turns back. “No, you’re not an idiot.” Azra confirms, finding the opposite to be the truth. He’s never known someone as clever and resourceful as Archer. “But there is still we.” He insists, knees cracking as he moves to sit, stiff and unused to such travel. It has been too long. He sighs softly, shifting the bowl aside. He knew he wouldn’t take it. Instead, he offers the scratchy blanket. “You will need warmth if we are to search for Grayson,” he insists, eyes sharper than he means them to be. “I do not care what they whisper. Let them shout.” He shrugs, grabbing the bowl again to take a bite, careful to not eat too much so that Archer will have some too. 

        𝐈𝐓  𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒  𝐓𝐎  𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐀𝐋𝐋  𝐀𝐓  𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄  that  he  is  exhausted.    ❛  you  really  wanna  talk  about  this  again ?  ❜    this  continual,  near  constant  push  and  shove  means  he  should  be  snapping  at  azra’s  heels.  but  he  is  aching,  and  he  is  tired ;  green  eyes  creased  around  the  edges,  tracing  the  slope  of  a strong  jaw,  breaths  shallow,  almost  as  if  in  disbelief  of  the  entire  situation.    ❛  now ?  ❜    he  is  exhausted,  and  despite  being  bullheaded  near  all  his  life,  he  fears  this  is  an    argument  he  cannot  win.  yet,  he  cannot  bring  himself  to  yield.    ❛  how  am  i  s’posed  to  live  with  myself–––  huh ?  ❜    pressing,  he  feels  helpless  –––  hopeless,  not  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  but  certainly  for  what  he  has  determined  will  be  the  last.    ❛  if  something  else  happens ?  ❜    something  else,  something  more.  archer  wouldn’t  be  able  to  bear  it.