Britchell - a Sentinel AU drabble
For @britchell Contribution Fest, a (tripple) drabble based on a conversation with @patrickvvolf where we decided that Britchell would be perfect for the Sentinel and Guide trope. 🩵
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Mitchell presses the heels of his hands to his ears. It's happening again — worse this time. Cars honking. Voices talking over each other. The deafening buzzing of a fly in the next room. "It's too much!" he gasps, digging his nails into his skull to no avail. "I can hear everything!"
"Well shit, don't look at me, I don't know what to do." Anders ruffles through the old parchments before him. "I can't read these fucking runes!"
"You said you were my guide, so guide me," Mitchell presses out through gritted teeth.
Anders rises in anger, papers flying in all directions. "It was the fucking Norns that sprouted that shit! Not me. I'm no one's pawn—"
Mitchell's scream cuts him off. The man is curling in on himself, like he's in deadly agony.
"Shit shit shit." Anders sits down again, panic rising. He needs to do something — anything. "Just focus on my voice, okay? Nothing else. Only my voice." By sheer willpower he manages to qualm his exterior, but on the inside his heart is still racing like a runaway train. "All those other things, they're not there. Only my voice. Dial it down 'til it's just a whisper. You can do it."
Mitchell opens wide eyes, chest heaving. "I—, I think it's working. Keep— keep talking."
And he does. What he says, he doesn't know — but for more than a minute he keeps up an even stream of low, steady address.
Finally, breathing almost back to normal, Mitchell lets out a shaky sigh. "Thank you," he whispers.
The words take him by surprise and Anders' stomach makes a strange little cartwheel. He stares — first at the parchments strewn across the floor, than at the man across from him — not sure what to make of any of this. "You're welcome."
