I’m finally that I got around to draw her since I rarely draw my phoenix gal where I’mma giving this gal justice after not being drawn besides her reference sheet all for one and one for all. Hopefully I’ll be able to get around to draw her and other of my Kirby OCs references and sheets before artfight comes without any doubt and worries ^w^
She mostly like eat spicy foods and flavored snacks when it comes to times where she does love sweet treats and fruits as her sweet tooth can’t go wrong with that.
CWs: immortal whumpee, villain whump, medical setting, implied restraints, past restraints, implied past sexual abuse, bath, nudity, past temporary character death, trauma, fear of speaking, self-esteem issues, bodily fluids, fear of punishment, bruises, past beating, Phoenix's headspace is its own warning
Phoenix goes through the release process blankly, barely seeing as they pull on their clothes robotically and follow their guard into the corridor. Yes ma’am, no ma’am, wrists held out for freedom, out the metal door. It’s only when they see Aaron’s face beyond the steel gate, brow pinched, that their brain really starts to believe it.
They’re going back to him.
They pinch themself as the gate opens and Aaron takes their arm. Ow. They’re getting out.
For now.
Phoenix can barely hear past the white noise in their ears but as they ascend the stairs some of it starts to fade away. Aaron is here. He’s here.
As soon as they're up the first set of stairs Aaron steers them into a deserted corner and swings their backpack off their back. Phoenix flinches, then berates themself. It's only Aaron. And they’re out in the sunlight. Suddenly the fear that they might never see it again seems stupid – of course they would. Aaron would never leave them there.
“Sorry kid.” He pulls a bottle of squash out of his bag and hands it to them, along with a cardboard hat. “Figured you might need this, judging by last time. And I have your shoes. Do you want them?”
Phoenix nods, taking the squash carefully in both shaking hands. They can’t hold the hat as well, so Aaron sets it down in front of them. They kneel down. Swill and spit, swill and spit.
As they do that, emptying their mouth of the remnants of sick that have been there for far too long, the lumps stuck in the cracks and the taste lingering in their mouth and throat, Aaron quietly helps them with their shoes. They’re velcro but even that is too much for them right now.
They want to cry.
Not in public, not in public where they can be mocked and tormented for it. But Aaron opens up his arms and they fall right in. They wish they could just nestle inside him, where it’s warm and safe. They can’t let themself cry yet but they can have this.
“Let’s get you to the medbay, and then when you’re feeling up for it, we’ll find you some proper sunlight.”
Phoenix nods. Please. Please. “Do you mind if I carry you?” They nod again and he lifts them into his arms. “Just a little further, and then we can have some privacy. Hold onto me, arms around my neck, that's it. You're okay Phoenix. You'll be okay.”
Phoenix isn't so sure about that.
Aaron's pressing on their bruises but they don't want to bring it up. They never want to bring it up. He might stop holding them if they do.
They bury their head in Aaron's chest and force themself to breathe.
They're in the lift, just the two of them, before Aaron speaks again. Their heartrate has calmed considerably, more than they thought it could, and they look up at Aaron when he takes a deep, steadying breath, stroking their hair.
“Sorry I took so long to fetch you. I was working on Kai’s team. And then Aisling made me change.”
“How, um, how are they?”
They need to know. They need everyone to be alive.
Aaron squeezes them gently.
“Alive. Thanks to you. They’re still in medbay, but if there hadn’t been someone with healing powers there not everyone would’ve made it.”
Phoenix nods. At least something good came out of their imprisonment.
“Can I see them, sir?” they ask timidly, voice low enough that maybe, if Aaron doesn’t like them requesting things, they can both pretend they never said anything. Aaron's face falls.
“I don't think you're allowed in any wing of the medbay except for the villains ward. But I'll get them on a webcam once they're able to take calls, okay?” Phoenix nods, worry a squirming knot in their stomach. That doesn't sound good. “And please, you don't have to call me sir.”
Oh. Right. Aaron doesn't like that.
They step out of the lift. Phoenix buries their face in Aaron's chest, hiding away from all the staring (finally, finally), not looking up until they're set down on something soft and they hear the door close gently.
They're in the same private room as usual. Aaron sits down on the bed beside them.
“What in all hells did they do to you this time, kid?”
Phoenix doesn't respond. They can't. Even if they could, they're not allowed. They can't even think about what worse would mean, they can't allow it to paralyse them like that. They can't tell Aaron. For details of their prison stay to come out… they shudder. They don't even know. They don't even want to think about it.
“I’ll run you a bath, if you like. You can get warm, maybe relax a little. How does that sound?” They look away and nod. They feel so, so dirty. Can Aaron see it too? “I’ll be back in just a sec then. Just need to get it started.”
Oh. They're gone again. And then they're back. That was quick. Phoenix must've zoned out.
They do that, sometimes, with Aaron. Aisling says it's because their body knows they're safe with them, but it's still worrying and they don't like it. They didn't used to do it with anyone, before they met Aaron.
“Sorry. Right. You know the drill by now, once you're ready we need to test anything you're worried about. But only when you're ready.”
Don't write the results down this time. Please, don't write them down.
No. What right do they have to make requests?
They nod. There just isn't anywhere they're worried about.
“Okay. You're alright, Phoenix, you're safe now. I'll help you into the bath, maybe we can start to make you feel it.”
Phoenix can smell lavender as they enter the bathroom, leaning on Aaron, feeling like they're about to collapse, and they almost cry.
“I'll give you some privacy while you get in the bath. You let me know when you're ready.”
Phoenix nods, watching warily as Aaron's arm extends, but they just bend it slightly, probably for them to hang onto. They strip and steel themself, bracing for the fall they're sure will happen, the consequences if they're not supposed to grip onto Aaron, if they've read it wrong.
No. No, this is Aaron.
They grip the grabrail with one hand, Aaron's arm with the other, and lower themself carefully into the bath, sinking down into the bubbles enough to cover themself.
“I’m in.”
Aaron turns around. “Okay. There's cloths and stuff there, clean yourself as much as possible and I'll help with anything you can't reach. Take as long as you like, I managed to get a heat pod from Fireball so the water won't get cold. Just let me know when you need me, yeah?”
Phoenix nods, picking up a cloth. They scrub and scrub and scrub, washing off all the grime and sweat and dirt and prison that the hose didn't catch. All their vomit and blood and faeces, being extra careful with their face because Aaron might not have spotted that but it's there, it has to be, they can smell it. It feels good, it feels better, they have to be careful not to forget it completely but as the cloths get dirtier they get so much cleaner.
They close their eyes and try to avoid thinking about it as they clean their private parts. Don't think about what went in there, or what was on display, or– any of that.
They flinch away from the memories and try to reach their back. They can't. And their hair… that's pretty much a no-go too. They sink into the bubbles as much as possible before turning around, back to Aaron, giving him as easy access as they can. Their heart leaps and settles in their throat at not being able to see, back to Aaron, back to the door, but they try not to give anything away.
“I, um, I– I can't reach my back or hair, sir.”
“Okay. That's okay, I'll help.”
He rubs their back gently with a cloth, then a little harder. They wince but they don't let it show. They know Aaron can't help it, the bruises are there and he didn't cause them and he can't clean them without pressing at all, it just… hurts. But he can't know how it feels for too many reasons. They don't want to stop him caring for them, caring about them. They don't want this to stop.
“I'm moving onto your hair now. I'm going to need to tip fresh water over it, but I'll do my very best to avoid your face, okay?” They nod. He's so considerate. He remembers and actually cares because of that.
The guards remembered. And they cared too. Just… differently.
He tips a jug of warm water over their head, rubbing shampoo into their scalp, running his fingers through their hair, tugging a little. He can't make it far. Then he falters.
“They cleaned you up before letting you out, right?” Phoenix nods. “Well, I don't think they were as thorough as they intended to be.”
Phoenix doesn’t look. They don’t look. They’re not going to look.
They can guess what’s in there, anyway. They were beaten to death, that’s not something that can easily be blasted away.
“Let’s get this combed out. It’s matted in, it might hurt, but I’m guessing you’d prefer that to cutting?” They nod vehemently. God, yes, they can’t lose that too. “I’m very glad we put a heat pod in. Let me know if you need me to stop.”
Phoenix isn't going to say a word. They bite their lip as Aaron teases out the knots, rubbing conditioner through periodically. It softens their hair but they're glad Aaron can't see their winces as he pulls at their scalp.
“Sorry, kid.”
They don't respond. Can't. They just hope Aaron won't think this is too much effort and cut it off instead. He wouldn't, but…
No, no, he wouldn't. He wouldn't, and they hate the way the guards have gotten into their head so easily.
Eventually he combs it through, barely snagging, combing conditioner through the whole length of their hair.
“Tip your head back? That's it.” He pours warm water over their hair, running a hand through it gently. “There you go. It's clean again.”
Phoenix buries their head in their hands, trying to stifle a sob. It feels good, it feels like them, and they don't know how to tell Aaron how much it means to them. How much they don't deserve it, but it's what they've desperately wanted, what they've desperately needed, for however long it's been. They feel human again. But they can't find the words, they don't know how, they're not even allowed.
They want to say something. They can't. They've pushed their luck enough as it is. They asked two questions and Aaron knows they died. They can't take it any further.
Their sobs can't be stifled anymore, and their breath hitches, shoulders shaking as they cry quietly. Aaron places a hand on their shoulder, not saying anything as they continue to cry. His quiet support just makes them cry more.
Eventually, once their sobs have tapered off, Aaron speaks quietly. They tense up automatically but they only sas, “Do you want to get out and into something comfortable? I have your fleecy pyjamas ready.”
Phoenix nods. They'd do anything for proper clothes.
“Come on then. I'll help you out and then give you some privacy to change.”
They don't have to, is the thing. Aaron doesn't have to. But they do, and they will, because they're the kindest person Phoenix has ever known.
They help them out of the bath and onto the closed toilet seat, before slipping out from under their arm to fetch the pyjamas. Their pyjamas. Then they leave them alone, closing the door quietly behind them.
Phoenix changes stiffly, their whole body seized up while they were in the bath. The bruises they can see are coming up blue and black and purple.
They limp out of the door, pulling the dressing gown Aaron also left tighter around them. They're warm, and comfy and fuzzy and nobody's watching them. They want to cry again, but instead they climb onto the bed with Aaron's help, curling up against them. They feel weak, helpless, nothing, but that doesn't matter with Aaron here. They snuggle up, making themself as small as possible, enough that if Aaron doesn't want them anymore they can just pretend they're not here.
Aaron holds out crisp white bandages, wrapping them around their wrists gently when they hold them out, smoothing them down, covering the burns completely.
“I know your self-esteem is low again. Or lower, I guess, it's always low. But never underestimate yourself, kid. You're the bravest person I know.” They blink, confused. Them, brave? “What you did? That's a call I should've made. Prioritising. Even if I left you in the hands of the guards, you would definitely be alive when I got back, but if I didn't the others might not. It's an emergency situation, I should've– but I couldn't. I never would have, you're too important to me. But you did, and it saved everyone's lives. You walked in and you walked back out, and I know it's not that simple but I'm proud of you.”
They curl up in Aaron’s arms, sobbing silently. He doesn’t know. He told them to do anything to survive but he doesn’t know what they did, what happened to them. Would he really think they’re so brave if he knew?
Aaron strokes their hair until they’ve calmed down enough to sit back up against the pillows.
“You're not going anywhere, at the very least until Kai’s well enough to take you back in. And I'm not leaving you alone tonight. So, Star Wars? A New Hope, maybe? That's the one with the Ewoks, right?”
Phoenix nods, too tired and worn out to argue, like a freshly-wrung flannel. Something flashes in Aaron’s eyes, there and then gone, but he smiles, setting up his laptop and inserting the DVD. Then he settles them both into the bed under the giant fluffy blanket, draws Phoenix into a side hug, and starts the film.
My next OC to introduce is NOT Loki's knight! From the same realm, the leader of a great line of warriors, is The Hero. Some call him the Phoenix, others less impressed prefer to refer to him as Pride. All the same, his name is Korvin Evergreen.
(excuse my heavy watermarking)
Korvin is no knight, but has the authority beyond any royal guard. He is like a messenger of the gods amongst the people, and he will stand no injustice.
Just be wary. Usually fame is a face, and characters are created to put the fearful public at ease in difficult times. Speculation from skeptics like Loki and Kyuupid insist he isn't all he is cracked up to be. This man, a symbol of justice, is all about flashy flames and bringing grand stories that sound like hyperbole.
What is he really? That is your judgement to make.
