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.
(
In retrospect, running all that evacuation work might not have been the best idea. )
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.
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"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.
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"Self-discipline," she said firmly, assuming his mind would fill in the rest.
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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."
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"Drink," she told him.
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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."
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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."
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She offered it to him once again and then asked: "Does this displease you."
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"No," he said at last. His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Kinda familiar."
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