(Untitled)

[iruledeadpeople]

WHO: Nico di Angelo (iruledeadpeople) and Mazikeen (daughterinexile)
WHERE: In the Lux, presumably.
WHEN: After the ginormous Godzilla log.
WARNINGS: Nothing in particular!
SUMMARY: Nico ends up overextending the hell out of himself during his part of the Godzilla fight; fortunately, Mazikeen is there to scowl at look after him.
FORMAT: Soooomething.

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[daughterinexile]

Mazikeen was not a gentle creature, nor was she was kind by nature; that was not her way, nor the way of any of her kin. She was, instead, as her mother had made her -- ire and fury and bitterness, all laced with sorrow; and beneath bone and blade and her perfect mask, at the very heart of herself, Mazikeen knew only one thing and one thing explicitly. And that one thing was loyalty.

Perhaps then, it was loyalty that had brought her to the hulking monster's feet that night. Her purpose there had been a difficult exercise -- maintaining a perpetual and fluid alchemy, through which she dissolved what could be spared from the air around them and melted it down into pure potential. It was this potential -- this energy -- that she then had given to the boy.

Pausing in the doorway of the backroom, she looked in upon where Nico lay resting -- inert, but breathing deeply on a long side couch. It would be a while before her woke, Mazikeen knew that much, and so she went about some menial errands about the bar. Eventually, though, she returned, a pitcher of water and a tall glass in either hand. Carefully, she set them on the end table and, pulling up a chair beside, she waited for Nico to rouse himself.

Although it was not her nature, Mazikeen sometimes remembered why and how to be patient. This, it seemed, was one of those times.

[iruledeadpeople]

It would be another hour before he finally approached something like consciousness. Otherwise, he slept the sleep of the dead--utterly still and silent, aside from the sound of his own breathing. Eventually, however, his eyes fluttered. His body shifted to one side, face frowning and fingers twitching. His mouth was terribly dry. It ached even to swallow, much less lift his head. So he did as little of either motion as he could.

"Ow," he murmured, eyes blinking open. Where was he? How long had he been out? Had they won? He'd get to those questions in a moment. Maybe after he felt well enough to get his mouth to actually work properly.

[daughterinexile]

When Nico finally stirred, Mazikeen tilted her head to one side to look at him, brushing her hair back behind one shoulder to expose the bare half of her face. Beyond that, however, she did not make move; she was not here to dote on him, after all. Turning her attention to the glass that sat on the end-table, she concentrated on the water held within it -- shifting the individual molecules to rearrange them in a much more tightly-held structure. A few cubes of ice began to solidify, like melting in reverse. They bobbed slightly in the glass, making a faint tinkling sound, before she looked again at Nico. The corner of her mouth tightened in what was clearly dissatisfaction.

"Self-discipline," she said firmly, assuming his mind would fill in the rest.

[iruledeadpeople]

A voice, and another sound. Whose? Nico turned his head just enough to see Mazikeen's dissatisfied look. The memories of the past few hours flooded back into him--fighting Godzilla, tipping past his own power thresholds. That coupled with her comment was more than enough to make him wince again. He'd severely overdone it this time, hadn't he. His body would have told him as much even if Mazikeen hadn't. And after he'd promised not to push himself...

Nico looked away. Stared at another point on the wall; realized that he was likely somewhere in the bar. He couldn't tell where, exactly. "Yeah," he said, after a moment. His tone was quiet. "I know."

[daughterinexile]

For a moment, Mazikeen considered saying something more on the matter, but she could tell by the way Nico's features contracted together -- pulling inwards in a slow wince -- that her point had been made. A small silence stretched between them and then, Mazikeen rose from her chair (somehow, without making sound) and then moved to lift the now-cool glass, offering it to Nico.

"Drink," she told him.

[iruledeadpeople]

Water. Boy, did that sound good right about now. Slowly, very slowly, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position. Everything hurt; anything that didn't felt immensely heavy, as if his limbs had turned into lead. But he managed to prop himself up, somehow, and reach for the water. Once it was in hand, he drank greedily, a little awkwardly, taking most of it in several uninterrupted swallows.

[daughterinexile]

For a moment Mazikeen considered showing Nico an outward gesture of concern. Even though she was not a creature of kindness, the concept -- its look and its shape, the way it sounded and felt -- were not completely lost to her. She was, after all, one of Lilith's daughters and her mother had been no stranger to compassion. At least, when it suited her.

She moved to hold the pitcher in her strong hands and waited for Nico to finish.

"You will not do that again," Mazikeen said. Her tone was not harsh, nor was it unkind; she simply stated it as if it were fact. "Not until you have been restored completely."

[iruledeadpeople]

Nico remained silent even after he'd finished drinking. There were no more winces from him, outside of the ones caused by his aching body; if anything, he seemed to settle more firmly. This was familiar. If he'd been in a similar situation back home, Hades (or one of his many undead servants) would probably have said the exact same thing.

Nico knew his place. He wasn't going to argue.

"I won't," he said, his voice quiet. He paused, thinking, but then the words came tumbling out anyway: "You sound like Father."

[daughterinexile]

Silently, Mazikeen took the glass from Nico, her hand -- the skin on the inside of her palm callused from the hilt of her sword, but warm -- covered his for a moment before his grasp slipped away. The water made a wet, filling noise against the cup it was poured into.

She offered it to him once again and then asked: "Does this displease you."

[iruledeadpeople]

His own hand was deathly cold; a few degrees below even his standard of normal. As he drank, his expression became thoughtful. He hadn't meant to say that, but the words were out...

"No," he said at last. His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Kinda familiar."