faderift | ( CLOSED ) | even the sun sets in paradise

Entry tags:

{ six },
{ thor }

( CLOSED ) | even the sun sets in paradise

WHO: Six and Thor
WHAT: Mourning
WHEN: Backdated to before the return of the 'dead'
WHERE: Thor's room
NOTES: N/A, but discussion of death?

Six had been a member of the party sent to look for the missing group and she had been one of the first to return bearing the bad news. She had known little of most that she had been sent to search for, but she knew one of the names - Loki, who was to be married, Loki, who's wedding she was invited, Loki, the brother of Thor.

Thor, who she has begun to care for, just enough.

It does not take her long to make her way to his room, the route familiar from the last time she had ventured there. She is not sure what she might say when she gets there, when she is finally able to take his hand and offer some kind of comfort. Yes, she has been through this suffering before (not the loss of a sibling, but something similar) but words have never been her strongest suit. She is better with a sword, with a target to hit, with something to focus on, not... This.

But she is willing to try. She hopes that will be enough.

Standing outside his door, she breathes out for a moment before her hand lifts and she knocks, once, loud.

"Thor? It is Six."

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The room may not technically be his anymore, since they got their estate in Hightown, but Thor doesn't feel like being in that big empty place right now. He'd come to meet the returning party to retrieve some of the ashes and he's not ready for the vigil yet either. It hasn't even been a year since he had to stand it for his mother.

The knock gets a sigh from him, but the name has him actually look up from where he's sitting. "Come in." He's on a plush couch in front of a not-matching coffee table, and on that is a vial holding a small amount of ashes. Thor himself looks tired as he looks up, a little caved in on himself with red eyes and lank hair.

It's the one place Six knows where to find him, and she is glad when he allows her entrance. She's careful as she presses open the door, peeking inside before she steps in fully, letting the wood close behind her. She is not about to bare his sorrows to the entire world, not when she imagines he has hidden in here for good reason. Mourning is sad, private, personal and painful. She would not take that from him.

Walking over, she reaches immediately for his hand, only hesitating for a brief second.

"I am sure you have heard many apologies by now, but I am sorry all the same. I wish I had returned with better news for you."

He takes her offered hand and looks at their joined hands as she speaks, trying to swim through this mess of feelings to find words.

"I wish it too," he finally says. He also wishes he knew what to say or do. At least with his mother's loss they'd had a clear need to keep moving, and for him to keep functioning. There's no attack going on right now.

"I, um." No topics come to mind, no platitudes, nothing. It's all blank save for basic manners. "Sit with me?"

At least he is accepting comfort. When she had felt loss she had not accepted the same from anyone; she had been desolate, clawing her way out of her own grave, physically and metaphorically, before she had forced herself to find her footing again. It has not been easy.

"Of course." Moving closer, she settles down at his side. She was supposed to be his partner for the wedding - the wedding of the man she had not been able to return to him. Six cannot imagine what it might be like for her to attend Adalia's funeral and, so, she does not think on it.

"I am here. For whatever you might need."

Thor looks down.

"I do not know what I need." Unlike last conversation, he doesn't have to say everything that comes to mind, but as he doesn't know what he's doing with himself talking feels like it could fill the gaps. "Everything is on fire."

His home is an occupied mess, he hasn't heard from his father in months, and his mother and brother are dead. He's in enemy territory, nearly literally thanks to the Southern Divine, and he may not be technically alone but he feels very close to it anyway. Thor looks back up, meeting her eyes with a little desperation in his.

"I could not save my mother or protect my brother, and I am meant to lead my house? My house that is now empty, for when I lead it my father will also be gone." Saying it out loud hurts more. He wishes he'd had the foresight to stash something to drink here, but it's too late for that now and he hadn't brought any of the slaves with him. Any of the servants.

It is sad, she thinks, to see him so broken. She is not accustomed to it and it leaves an ache inside of her, something she cannot quite find a means to repair. This is not her forte at all, but she is here.

"I think that happens often when grief comes to us," Six admits quietly. "Nothing is ever simple, and the pain we are given by the world is often unjust. I wish that I could repair this for you, that I might have been there for them. I wish that this did not cause your heart such pain."

Her hand wraps around his a little tighter. With no armour, she has no gauntlets, and her body is as bare as she is ever comfortable being; a loose shirt, her breeches, her boots. She thinks her body must be warm next to his, and she hopes that is some kind of comfort. Evidence enough that he is not alone.

"I could not save the one I loved either," she says, finally. "My house is in ashes as well, though I did not claim nobility. But your house will not be empty so long as you are there to lead it, Thor. It is a great burden, yes, but one that you will carry with strength. I have seen that in you. I believe that you will rise from this stronger and more powerful."

He sighs heavily and leans against her. There's strength in her words that he doesn't feel is in him right now. How can they come out of this? He wants to believe her, but how?

Maybe that's not a question he can actually answer right now. Much thinking at all is beyond him. Thor gives her hand a squeeze and closes his eyes for a moment.

"When he was little, it was a game for him to hide, waiting for me to come near, unsuspecting, before jumping out and attempting to stab me." Thor smiles, sadly, and pushes up a sleeve of his robe to show off what definitely looks like a stab wound on a solid bicep. "He was trying for my lung but I was too fast for him. Nonetheless, this is the deepest wound he ever made and he truly caught me off guard."

He sounds sadly proud. "I have faced many enemies on the field. Few were as creative or resilient as my brother, and none managed to leave their mark on me like him."

Let him take her strength, she thinks. Let him rest on her; she is strong enough for them both. She has always been strong; one of her few merits, something she can cling to even now, so far from home. She can be strong.

For now, Thor should be doing something to ease his burdens, but Six cannot place what that might be. It seems so far from her mind, so distant from what she knows, that all she can do is force herself to breathe and be there at his side, offering what comfort she has in her hands, the tenderness she has never been adept with.

"I did not know my sister when she was young," Six admits quietly, reaching to touch the wound, thumb pressing into the skin. "I do not have those memories. Not pleasant ones of youth, or games, or soothing nightmares. I am glad that you have those of Loki; that you might carry them with you, no matter how far apart you are."

Even death cannot take memories.

He didn't know she had a sister. He doesn't think her here, though, as there are no Rifters that are her match, which means Six understands what it is to be separated from her sibling. It gives more weight to her being here and her words. The memories are his forever, there are things of Loki that will never be gone, and it is not Thor alone that remembers him. Those are what he needs to hold on to.

This too, though. Her hand is warm on his arm and he reaches up to graze his fingers along the back of it. The last time he wanted to kiss her he'd gotten news that he's taken some time to deal with, but right now that little bit of elf blood seems inconsequential. Thor leans in to lightly kiss her, a bare brush of his lips, as much question as move.

Six is not used to being a source of comfort - no one has relied on her for this before. Even Adrian had kept himself above it all, distancing himself despite their love to protect her studies. This is different, she thinks. She wants Thor to rely on her, to accept her, to feel safe. She wants to soothe his hurts even if her magic could not fix this. She wants...

The kiss surprises her.

For a moment she’s clearly shocked and uncertain, hesitant, but then she tilts and leans and presses bask into it. She’s sure her inexperience is obvious, but she doesn’t truly care; she wants this. It’s a sharp and sudden realisation. She wants this intimacy, and she leans forward into the kiss, offering permission and asking for more.

Edited (thanks solas) 2019-06-07 05:32 (UTC)

He pauses when she hesitates, feeling a sudden spike of fear that he's gone and set this on fire too, but the fear makes the relief and joy all the better when she leans forward. Thor wraps his an arm around her to cup the back of her head as he kisses her again.

Now he takes his time, opening his mouth a little to nibble at her lower lip, feeling some of the stress start to fade away enough that his expression is a little warm by the time he pulls away to search her eyes. Thor genuinely likes her, he's realizing. She's strong and powerful and compassionate and gentle, mage and warrior, and beautiful on top of everything else.

It feels terribly selfish to enjoy this when he's just lost his brother, and when Alexandrie has just lost her fiance, but he thinks he needs this anyway. "You are a blessing," he says quietly.

The kiss is more than she had imagined it to be. When she had pictured it before it was the kind of thing she had seen the other mercenaries so - quick, rushed things with no meaning, all passion and intensity rather than true affection or warmth. Six had never seen herself on the receiving end of something like that, not when she’d been so afraid of the very idea. Such raw lust - it has seemed so uncouth, so frightening.

This is much better. Thor’s hand is gentle on her head, against the hair she loathes so. The scrape of his teeth against her lip is exciting rather than alarming and when he leans back to look at her she appears dazed more than anything else, soft and flushed, her eyes taking a moment to adjust and look up to see him.

Glad for this, Six reaches and places her palm against his cheek, careful.

“I am no such thing,” she admits softly. “I am simply a woman who does not wish to see you suffer.”

He's not sure he's ever been looked at like that before. There's a quiet, radiant sort of trust in her eyes and he knows he's never going to care about her bloodline again. She's not of a high house and she's not fully human and it's entirely inconsequential. All he wants is to keep being looked at like that, by her.

"I do not think I can suffer with you here." It sounds cliche to him, but he means it. The pain isn't gone but it's bearable. Manageable. Breathing is hard but he's doing it. Though he'd much rather still be kissing her than focusing on breathing.

Thor gives her the smallest smile, a tentative glimmer of a thing. He isn't alone here, not alone with his loss and not alone in the South.

"I think my mother would have liked you." She'd loved a qunari as a son, she certainly wouldn't hold Six's heritage against her, not once she'd seen Six the way Thor has.

Intimacy is still a new thing for her - something that she is adjusting to after years of being alone and isolated. Sitting here, close to Thor like this, feeling his skin against her hand and the warmth of his body so near his own... It is a touch overwhelming. She hasn't felt such a desire for something so soft and so tender for years. It's novel and it is frightening.

"Then I will stay with you for as long as I can," Six promises. If she can ease that burden if she can take away some of his suffering, why should she ignore him? Why should she do anything else but sit at his side and offer him her hand in friendship and tenderness - and more, it seems, than all of that?

Leaning forward, she touches her forehead to his.

"I do not remember my mother," her voice is soft. "But I think she would be pleased to know you."

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( CLOSED ) | even the sun sets in paradise

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