creator_raven | (no subject)

And now there's an insistent knocking on the door. Will his troubles never cease?

One hopes not.

Raven is fond of trouble.

Particularly Ace-shaped trouble.

Possibly it is a failing.

He opens the door, still holding his coat.

Is he pouting?

"I brought y'cookies! Annie had extras at the bakery, an' since they'd just go stale sittin' around, I brought some t'you." Ace greets him cheerily, holding out a tupperware container.

...

"What's happened t'you, longface?"

Raven perks up at the cookies, and snatches them from Ace.

He does not, however, let go of his coat.

Give him a moment.

"I do not so much like mending, I do not think."

Ace wanders in (invitation? Who needs one of those?) and makes herself comfortable on the bed. She is kind enough to take her boots off first.

"Oh? Been rough-housin' with Coyote again?"

"Mostly no."

Raven makes a face, settling back on the floor and spreading out his coat.

Nope, there is still a bloody hole in it.

"It is the trouble with newcomers, I think."

Ace, suddenly quiet, pads over and crouches to examine the hole.

She does not whimper.

Really.

It was just Raven's imagination.

That 'you explain, and you explain now' expression on Ace's face definitely isn't his imagination, though. Someone's definitely Not Pleased.

Raven is still poking disconsolately at the hole.

"There was throwing of things. Mostly bottles."

Ace eyes the hole. It's rather slit-like. Then she eyes him.

"Raven. I am tryin' t'be very very calm. S'good practice f'dealin' with Spoon on bad days. But that? Was not made by a bottle." Bottles are... messier. And less... blood-causing. In general.

"The knife was later, yes?"

He tilts his head, poking at the slit.

"She is not so good at thinking."

Silence emanates from the Ace-camp.

But not for long.

"A knife." She's on her feet, and pacing. She has to pace, or do something regrettable.
"A knife. Some bitch used a knife on you. Some bleedin' bitch stabbed you. Was it here? Is she still here?"

'Can I hunt her down and make her bleed too?' is the question she's not asking, but definitely thinking. Spoon would not approve, she's sure.

Raven just looks up at her, head tilting.

"I am not so easily killed, I do not think."

Ace is just on this side of forgetting she ought really to stay human in moods like these.
"That is not the soddin' point, Raven." She's seen him burn, mad and howling with insane laughter. She's seen him tired and wasted. She's seen him turn into that other-self that is so unlike him as to be someone else entirely.

She is not going to let some trumped-up trollop take him away.

Raven tilts his head a little farther, dark eyes fixed on his sister.

"Possibly punching is okay."

Beat.

"Outside."

If she really has to.

"She is very young."

"Not an excuse." She growls. Because she never did anything impulsive and downright stupid while young.

Yup.

*cough*

Then a few minutes later, sheepishly, she adds: "Spoon doesn't like it when I break m'hands punchin' things."

Raven does not laugh.

Much.

"Also there is kicking, yes?"

Ace will not break her toes?

"Now y'just mockin' me." She sulks at him, glowering impressively. She just wants to make sure he stays okay! Is that too much to ask?

Her glower becomes a bit more narrow-eyed as a new thought occurs to her.

"You're not still bleedin' under all of that, are you?" She demands fiercely.

Raven only looks a little shifty.

"Mostly it is better, I think."

Now Ace is glaring daggers at her dodgy brother.
"What d'y'mean, mostly? Do I need t'go fetch Coyote, or some stickin' plaster, or... I dunno, caulk?"

Raven does not glare back, just grins brightly.

Really.

"Possibly, yes. The scar is not so much pretty."

Ace growls. It is not at all a pretty sound.

"I," She states, as she heads towards the door, "Am gettin' that caulk. An' if I happen t'meet a gal lookin' for her knife, I will not be held responsible for my actions."

Raven snorts, and settles back with his coat.

Surely it will get fixed somehow.

Before he has to sew it himself.

Ace is back shortly (since she failed to find a stabbity-type girl in the bar, alas), with clay-patching materials. She doesn't bother with knocking this time, barging in boldly and... well. She's still pissed.
"A'right, let's see it. S'either me or Coyote, an' I won't discourage her from bitin' your stupid arse."

She'll encourage it, rather. Sometimes stupid brothers need biting.

"Mostly, I think, she will laugh."

Is he lying?

Who knows!

He is also peeling himself out of his shirt.

There is no hole in it.

Some things Raven is more willing to cheat with than others.

No, but there is a hole in Raven. Or the remains of a hole, anyway.

Ace's furious expression melts away into a blank mask as she plops herself gracelessly on the floor next to him and unscrews the jar of spackle, sorting through the tools she got from Bar.

This is the second person in her family she's had to patch up recently. She's not appreciating the sudden demand for her somewhat limited skills in that area.
"Hold still." She orders, flatly.

Raven looks at her, eyes wide and dark.

"Breathing is helpful, perhaps."

But he doesn't move.

She asked.

"Can't die from hypoxia." She reminds him dryly, carefully blending the edges of the spackle patch in with his skin. She's not much of an artist, but she has a good eye for making things level.

He snorts again.

"Also hysterics are boring."

Sometimes it is hard not not to move.

It tickles.

Ace is cruel.

"Shut up." She glowers at the back of his head, then eyes her patch job. It's really not half bad. Kind of blatant, since the tones don't match, but at least there isn't a hole anymore.

That done, she digs needle and thread out of her jacket pocket (she could have been an excellent Scout) and begins repairing his jacket too.

No, she's not crying. Not even a little.

Shut up.

Raven sighs.

It is a very put-upon sigh.

Then he moves to lean against her, body small and compact and fitting neatly around the mending.

He does not offer her a handkerchief.

That's alright. His hair works just as well.

Hopefully he does not mind a bit of snot.

At least her stitches stay neat and small. She's had lots of practice keeping her hands steady under trying conditions.

Usually he would mind.

But not today.

He just slips one arm around her, and falls asleep.

Well, it looks that way.

Kind of.

Quietly Ace finishes her second patch job of the night, and examines her work. It'll hold, at least. She's not sure what to do about the blood.

She sighs as she looks down at Raven. She can't ask him to be more careful - for one, it's hypocritical as hell, and for another, it wouldn't help. He does what needs to be done.

It can't be comfortable sleeping there.

Tucking his coat under her arm, she (with a bit of difficulty, he's bloody heavy) picks him up and carries him towards the bed. Beds have to be better than the floor. Right?

They are.

But once Ace puts him down, likely it become apparent that he is not letting go.

Naptime is for Time Ladies too, apparently.

Who knew?

Ace fails to agree with this assessment. She needs to get out of here before she falls apart.

So she shucks out of her coat. She can pick it up later. She covers him with his own coat and heads for the door.

Raven huffs out an exasperated breath.

It is fortunate he can move quickly when he wants to.

"Ace."

His hand is on her shoulder.

Maybe he cheated.

Maybe nothing. Definitely.
"Raven. If y'not goin' t'sleep, I'd like m'coat back."

That's reasonable, right?

She even left the cookies for him.

He tilts his head, watching her.

He does not blink.

"You will stay if I am for saying no?"

Raven is betting on what answer he'll get.

Even if he doesn't need to.

"Raven... I gotta go runnin'. M'not fit f'company just now." She's still beyond furious, and scared, and...

Mostly those. But so many other things too.

"I am, I think, not so much for caring."

He can run, too.

Or fly.

They have done it before.

Many people would mis-interpret that.

Ace has a lot of experience in understanding Raven-speech.

"C'mon then. An' if y'wreak that patch I'm goin' t'beat y'arse."

There is the faintest easing of tension in Raven's body language.

Maybe it is the set of his shoulders.

"I will be careful."

This time.

"Also I will win."

And, in a flash of feathers, he is out the door.

Probably he is flying slowly. For now.