Adra didn't flinch as Drakon went to swing on him - he had expected as much. Honestly, the only surprising thing was that Drakon had the wherewithal to halt the attack before it connected. The momentum of the abandoned movement, though, proved too much to overcome for Drakon's exhausted body as he seemed to crumble into Adra's arms. Adra fell backward holding Drakon, using his own strength to control the collapse.
For a long time, the pair remained there on the ground with Adra's arms wrapped around Drakon in a protective embrace. He wished he was better at this part, that he had the ability to give solace to his friend when he needed it. But Adra had no idea what to do; he'd never had anyone who would have even considered giving him comfort. So, instead, he was left trying desperately to remember the long-abandoned desires of his childhood, the desperate wishes of a kid who hadn't yet learned to swallow the pain before others could pinpoint the weakness.
But all he could remember was just wanting to not feel so alone.
So he sat there quietly holding Drakon, his hands rubbing small circles on the other man's back as the sobs wracking his body ebbed.
Gods, he felt useless. If there was something to kill, he'd know exactly how to react. But this? All he could do was make stupid soft sounds with his throat and rub Drakon's back. What the fuck good was that?
When Drakon finally found the strength to stand, Adra felt a strange mixture of sadness, relief, and embarrassment. He wasn't good at not being good at things. Even worse...he didn't have any idea how to get better at this sort of shit. It's not like he was about to go hang out with heartbroken people and practice giving comfort...he'd rather gouge his eyes out. Sympathy wasn't his thing.
Why, then, did he want so much to be able to give it?
He pushed away the thought. He knew internally he could justify the urge as practical, just as he knew such a justification would be a lie. Instead, he just wouldn't. There was no room in his life for this, no room in his life for friendship or emotions. He had a job to do.
Adra focused on the task at hand. Drakon stood in front of him, his eyes transfixed on a small pile of eggs. Dragon eggs. Real dragon eggs.
They were beautiful.
Even before Drakon vowed to take care of them, Adra understood: those dragon eggs were Drakon's future. The kid would look at those and see all the approval and validation he yearned to get from his father. And, more likely than not, he'd be willing to die in the pursuit of proving he was worthy of something Albert was incapable of giving.
Yeah, those eggs were Drakon's future - which meant that they were Adra's future as well. Like it or not, he was tied to the Gör; their fates were intertwined the moment Albert had given the order so many years ago and would remain so until Albert showed up to relieve him of his duty.
Fuck.
His mind silently offered a prayer that Drakon knew how to take care of dragon eggs. Not that they would ever be that lucky...but the Gör was a Van Markham...maybe shit like that was in his blood.
For a long time, the pair remained there on the ground with Adra's arms wrapped around Drakon in a protective embrace. He wished he was better at this part, that he had the ability to give solace to his friend when he needed it. But Adra had no idea what to do; he'd never had anyone who would have even considered giving him comfort. So, instead, he was left trying desperately to remember the long-abandoned desires of his childhood, the desperate wishes of a kid who hadn't yet learned to swallow the pain before others could pinpoint the weakness.
But all he could remember was just wanting to not feel so alone.
So he sat there quietly holding Drakon, his hands rubbing small circles on the other man's back as the sobs wracking his body ebbed.
Gods, he felt useless. If there was something to kill, he'd know exactly how to react. But this? All he could do was make stupid soft sounds with his throat and rub Drakon's back. What the fuck good was that?
When Drakon finally found the strength to stand, Adra felt a strange mixture of sadness, relief, and embarrassment. He wasn't good at not being good at things. Even worse...he didn't have any idea how to get better at this sort of shit. It's not like he was about to go hang out with heartbroken people and practice giving comfort...he'd rather gouge his eyes out. Sympathy wasn't his thing.
Why, then, did he want so much to be able to give it?
He pushed away the thought. He knew internally he could justify the urge as practical, just as he knew such a justification would be a lie. Instead, he just wouldn't. There was no room in his life for this, no room in his life for friendship or emotions. He had a job to do.
Adra focused on the task at hand. Drakon stood in front of him, his eyes transfixed on a small pile of eggs. Dragon eggs. Real dragon eggs.
They were beautiful.
Even before Drakon vowed to take care of them, Adra understood: those dragon eggs were Drakon's future. The kid would look at those and see all the approval and validation he yearned to get from his father. And, more likely than not, he'd be willing to die in the pursuit of proving he was worthy of something Albert was incapable of giving.
Yeah, those eggs were Drakon's future - which meant that they were Adra's future as well. Like it or not, he was tied to the Gör; their fates were intertwined the moment Albert had given the order so many years ago and would remain so until Albert showed up to relieve him of his duty.
Fuck.
His mind silently offered a prayer that Drakon knew how to take care of dragon eggs. Not that they would ever be that lucky...but the Gör was a Van Markham...maybe shit like that was in his blood.
04-18-2023, 06:38 PM
