hadriel_logs | [ open ] a not-so triumphant return

Who: Drake and whoever's interested
What: Drake's been out of commission since the move, and needs to catch up on things and make himself useful. Whether he's in any condition to do so is up for debate.
Where: new guard HQ/clinic, outposts, spire 4, maybe a few other places
When: early January
Warnings: probably mentions of zombie stuff here and there

guard HQ/clinic construction

Although it's not like he was shirking work, the fact that he hasn't been able to help around the city really bothers Drake. Especially since Henry said it was expected of the guard. So pretty much the first thing he does once he's feeling steady again is head to the site of the new HQ and clinic, being built side by side. It looks like they've still got a ways to go, so Drake can certainly make himself useful. He jumps in expecting to be able to work as he usually would but it's not long before he starts to fade, arms shaking a little as he sets a heavy beam down on its end. Stubbornly, he doesn't want to take a break, doesn't want to acknowledge that he's weakened. He's back to himself mentally, and there's a need to be doing something to make up for the time he wasn't.

Maybe someone should stop him from picking it back up.

outposts

Okay so maybe construction work wasn't the best idea right now. Drake heads to the outposts the next day instead, wanting to sign up for patrol shifts. He can still manage that, right? He's looking for Henry specifically, but hopefully whoever's there will know something about the new schedule. Most of the guard should recognize him, but will note that he looks a little different these days. Thinner and paler, pale enough to question if he should be out under these suns, and his hair is growing in white at the roots. He's armed as usual, though, and approaches with an easy smile. Please put him to work. Please.

spire 4, 801

Moving in isn't hard. After being freed from his voluntary imprisonment, Drake went straight to pick up his stuff from Lup's. He doesn't have much. And Ephemera hadn't changed his mind despite what he saw, so... here he is. It feels like a bigger deal than it probably is but he unpacks quickly enough, and goes to settle in the living room for awhile. It'll probably take some time to feel like he actually lives here now, even considering how often he crashed before. Things are different.

Anyone can come by and check in -- that'd be nice, actually. Knowing that the people who saw him in that condition still want to associate with him.

text to Lance

Hey doc. How're you holding up?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'm not the most patient person in the world, I guess." This isn't something he's had to deal with since he hit his growth spurt as a teenager. He hates feeling weak and helpless again, on a really visceral level. It's different here, the threats are less personal and he's got friends and Ephemera to protect him if something did go down, but. It doesn't make him feel any less like that 13 year old he once was, cowering in his room, afraid.

"The sun's a nice change, yeah. And maybe I can tan on my own and hide a little better." He runs his fingers through his hair with a little grimace. "Not much to do about this... you mind it?"

"Neither am I," he admits. They're alike in that way. But it takes time to recover from shit like this. Only so much the body can take. Sharkface had been pretty damn good at ignoring that. He tips his head back, humming to himself. "Your hair? Nah. Looks badass like that."

"...you're full of shit," Drake replies, but he's smiling. Can feel silent laughter shaking his shoulders a little. "Maybe I should embrace it. Go full 80s punk."

"Maybe just a little," he teases, grinning. "Hell yeah. Live your best life. We could spike it."

It would certainly be....distinctive.

"Spike it, too? Doesn't seem very 'me.' But I'd try it, if it'd make you laugh." Which he's fairly certain it would, because he'd look ridiculous. Especially with how long his hair's gotten.

"What about you? Your bangs are in your face all the time now."

"I'd definitely laugh," Ephemera admits. He's feeling a little playful. Why not? Things have calmed down enough that they can tell jokes, just enjoy being around each other. It's a gift he doesn't intend to waste. "Thinking I might grow it out. Try something different."

Drake shifts so that he can reach Ephemera's hair with both hands, raking it this way and that before twirling the overlong bangs out of his partner's face. "I like playing with it," he decides, leaning in and kissing Ephemera's forehead. "Fuck it, let it grow."

Oh, that feels nice. Ephemera hums, tipping his head back. He likes this, just being around Drake. Listening to his voice. The way that he runs his hands through Ephemera's hair, gentle around the scars.

"I've noticed," he murmurs, leaning against Drake. Just because he can. "Careful. It'll probably look ridiculous for a while."

"In between always does. As long as yours doesn't turn white too." There's a weight to his words, even as he presses close. Part of him is still amazed Ephemera's willing to take the risk being with him, after what he's seen. He was careful to give him the out, but Ephemera hadn't taken it.

That's a change in tone. Ephemera exhales, reaching out to squeeze Drake's arm. He does it gently. "You're going to dark places. Don't."

There are things he's afraid of in Hadriel, but the infection, the risk of being next to Drake, just isn't one of them.

"I don't understand how you aren't. I'm grateful for it, but..." Seeing the worst case scenario doesn't seem to have shaken him at all. And Drake still has no idea how to make the past two weeks up to him. "Am I worth that?"

Ephemera just shakes his head, squeezing Drake's arm again. A little harder this time. "Yeah. You are. 's one of the things I know for sure."

This place is confusing and difficult, and it hurts in more ways than one. Existing there with people who started out as strangers or enemies but then shifted to something else, something more complicated, as changed Ephemera's perspective. But one of those things has remained constant since the first day he showed up in this place.

Drake has always been himself. And that has always been enough.

Okay. He needed to hear it, and Ephemera's certainty helps a lot to push the what-ifs out of his head. Some of the tension he hadn't even realized was coiling in his shoulders eases and he reaches up to tilt Ephemera's chin towards his for a kiss.

"Let me make things up to you."

Ephemera grins, feeling warm and content right where he is. They kiss and it's simple.

Yeah. He could get used to this.

"Oh? What did you have in mind?"

"Actually, I haven't come up with much. For anyone." Drake shrugs a little, looking almost guilty. "So if you've got any ideas?"

Lance has already sort of scolded him for this, for feeling like he owes people something for a thing that wasn't his fault, but. He can't help it. And if there's something he can do, something that Ephemera wants, well. He'd be happy to know what that is.

The question is more serious than Ephemera was expecting and he's quiet for a moment, thinking it over.

"You know this stuff wasn't your fault, right?"

Ephemera squeezes Drake's hand briefly.

"Because we do. Everyone who matters. You wanna do stuff for them, do it because you want to. Not because you think you owe them."

"Yeah, I know." He runs his thumb over the back of Ephemera's fingers, tracing the tattoos. "I just also know what it was like for you. And you stayed with me anyway."

Ephemera shivers a little, closing his good eye. He wants to just be here, right now, with Drake. Listening to his breathing. Staying close. "Won't lie. Parts weren't easy. But that's life. You fight, you survive. You keep going. I'm right where I wanna be."

"Maybe the trick will just be making better memories to chase out the bad ones." Unexpectedly Drake straightens up, moving to stand from the couch with Ephemera's hand still in his.

"Come on, it's too warm in here. We've gotta rig curtains for the rest of this place sometime."

Ephemera follows slowly, stretching a bit. He doesn't let go of Drake's hand.

"Curtains we can do. I mean. I can sew a little. But we'll make it work."

(( scooting over here))

[ open ] a not-so triumphant return

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