creator_raven | (no subject)

(no subject)

It is not morning yet, though it might be.

Raven doesn't know.

He doesn't care.

All he can do is sit, head down, elbows resting on his thighs.

He is entirely still.

Except that his hands are shaking, and they won't stop.

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It is rather quiet, isn't it?

No whirring heating systems in this place, magic takes care of that.

Not too many patrons thumping through the halls at odd hours.

Ace is probably banking on the odds that Raven is asleep. You'd've thought she would have learned the first time she tried to pull this off. But hope does spring eternal.

Which conflicts oddly with the idea that hope is a thing with feathers.

...

A feathered tigger?

Either way, there's the faint scratching of a somewhat devious pyro picking the lock.

Raven fails to move.

Though he does close his eyes.

His hands are still shaking.

Finally the door opens, slowly, Ace peering around the doorframe cautiously.

That sly grin of hers melts away when she realizes that Raven is not on the perch. Or sleeping on the bed. He's just... sitting there, his outline just barely visible in the almost nonexistant light even to a hunter's eyes.

Something is Wrong.

The present, for it'd hardly be sporting to break into his apartment without a good present, is set quietly on the floor. Quietly, in sock-clad feet, she pads over to the bed, worried.

"Raven?" Worried, and scared.

It takes some time, but he eventually looks up at her.

His eyes are dark.

"Ace? I am very tired."

She doesn't quite remember ever starting to pet his hair, gently, soothingly, but she is, so obviously she must have started at some point. Time is a slippery thing even for Time Lords.

Or perhaps it is memory. Or attention. In that there are more important things to focus on.

She doesn't have conscious memory of scooting closer, of wrapping her free arm around him and pulling him close either, but that's not what's important, after all.

"S'alright, Raven. You can rest for a bit. M'here, I can watch."

He rests his head on her shoulder, breathing carefully.

"Please? I do not know that I can anymore, just now."

There is a moment of brief, unadulterated, murderous rage.

Someone hurt her brother.

Or something.

But that is not for now, and so she shoves it away, or more precisely, out of the forefront, she'll deal with that later.

"Of course. Won't go anywhere, 'til you say so. D'y'want cookies? I brought some." They were brought as a sort of bribe to keep him from opening the present until Christmas.

That has ceased to matter as much as well.

He curls closer.

"I think so, yes. It will help, perhaps."

With the relatively physical tiredness, at any rate.

The rest?

Possibly there is no helping that.

Ace will go down fighting, refusing to believe that.

"Alright, hold tight." She whispers, hugging him tight for a moment, then scampers off to where she had left her packages. The one marked 'open now' is snatched up and brought back with respectable speed. She tugs the comforter with her as she curls up next to him again, pulling it around his shoulders and hers.

Conserving heat is good.

The package is dropped into his lap. If it was light, the silvery shiny paper could be more properly appreciated, but it has also ceased to matter.

Raven runs one finger along the packaging, trying to muster up a smile.

It doesn't really work, and eventually he stops trying.

"I thank you."

He wrinkles his nose half-heartedly, and opens the package. He takes a bite of cookie, chews, and swallows.

A few more such bites, and his hands stop shaking.

Mostly.

She bites back a whine that rises up - Raven is supposed to be strong, be powerful, be there, not tired and sad and... not.

"Is there sommat I should do? Or not do? Or... stop others from doing, or get them t'do, or... what?" There are no classes on this sort of thing.

He smiles, then, and it is a little more real.

"Stay here?"

"As long as y'like. Longer even. You'll have t'tie me up and throw me out, an then change the locks t'sommat harder to pick, an' then reinforce the walls with concrete." In other words, she is the equivalent of a human leech. Except less with the bloodsucking. Cheetah, not vampire.

Somehow she's ended up petting his hair again.

"You just try'n get rid of me."

"I do not want to."

This is almost petulant, but not quite.

His voice is too quiet for that.

On a better day, perhaps.

Ace flails, inwardly, and if her hand shakes a bit as she continues alternately ruffling and smoothing his hair, what of it?

He's not supposed to take her at face value. He never does, not even when she's being serious. It's... a thing.

"No. You don't, not ever."

"Good."

He sounds a little more present, a little more sure of himself.

Possibly this is due to Ace's presence. Possibly it is due to her words.

Possibly it is both.

"Very good." It's one of the few things she can be absolutely sure of. After a few more minutes like this, she stretches, just a bit or more, to kiss his temple. Her poor hurt bird.

"D'you think you can sleep now? I promise I won't go anywhere, an' I'll keep watch." Whatever can be stopped by one shortish pyro turned Time Lord, will be.

He nods, slowly.

And if he adopts a child's shape before curling up in his blankets, body pressed close to her side--

Well, it's merely to save space.

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