[[So if you haven’t guessed it by now, that’s where I’ve been.  Unfortunately a 60 hour work week leaves very little time for much in the way of hobbies, and I had to trim back much of my online activity.  Including RPing.

I’m not gone for good, for I sincerely hope to get back to it someday soon.  In the meantime, I have kept up with my writing.  My fanfiction blog is Sleepy-Musings, and that’s my primary Tumblr presence these days.  Feel free to stop by and say hi sometime.

I miss you guys, and hope you’ve been well.]]

mathieu-williams:

The whole thing could have easily gone over his head. With the aching and stinging pain still running through his body, the cold still setting in his core like heavy rocks, and the horrendous splitting headache it was a wonder he was still awake to begin with. But he was determined not to slip off just yet, not until he could at least get a better grip on the situation then he did now and at least until he knew Arthur was okay. That horrible heavy metallic taste was still coating his mouth—though if he were to be honest Matthew wasn’t sure if it was Arthur’s any longer or his own. The thought alone though, the he had let this happen and had ended up hurting him was a little devastating. The man seemed fine, and Matthew supposed that was all he could ask for. 

But there were still so many questions racing through his head that he wanted answers to, but had no idea where to start. Arthur didn’t look exactly like Arthur, didn’t sound like him and that voice was almost too much for him to take right then. But Matthew would pit up with it for a little longer. He was just silent for a moment as he just lied there and let Arthur at least clean what he could. Matthew just listened the best he could through his clouded, aching mind and tried to piece things together. He had died. He could believe that. And the fire? It took a moment for it to come to him, but he could remember the bluish green flame and the sudden feeling of relief despite the burning pain. Matthew wasn’t upset about that—there are only so many ways to kill something like that, and the idea of that wasn’t something unfamiliar to him. 

“Don’t stop, please.” Violet eyes looked up right into emerald for a moment before they lost focus and eyelids slid closed tight. “It hurts. But I don’t want you to stop talking,” not when it was a comfort he was selfishly using to keep himself from losing it complete and just breaking down from the overwhelming sensations of the pain. It didn’t make any sense, it didn’t sound like Arthur but he didn’t have any choice but to believe it to be him. It was odd circumstances. Maybe he’d ask questions later and really start to understand what was going on. Right now there was really only one thing on his mind. Though for the longest time he didn’t say much of anything. 

“I’m sorry,” the words finally got out in a soft mumble, Matthew’s eyes not looking up to meet the other’s. There was a cough and his head rolled back a little more into the pillow. “I’m so sorry,” he swallowed thickly before finally opening his eyes and looking back up at Arthur so apologetically. “This is all my fault… I should’ve—” He wasn’t even sure what to say. The more he thought about it, the more he realised each and every little thing he could have done differently to prevent something like this from happening. But he just hadn’t handled the situation well enough out of desperation that it wasn’t real anymore, and these were the consequences he was faced with. It was just a little too overwhelming a thought for him to handle right then.

His head was pounding too hard for him to think properly, too.

That copper taste in his mouth, coupled along with everything else, was making him completely sick. Matthew didn’t want to think about it anymore—there was just too much of it for him to properly handle right then—and just wanted to cry. He didn’t want to pass out, though his body was desperately trying to tell him otherwise. He just wanted answers to questions he wasn’t even sure of. Maybe Arthur wouldn’t mind if he just let his eyes fall closed—just for a little while. It hurt too much to keep them open.

“…I didn’t think you’d come,” he finally mumbled in some kind of attempt to keep calm and from passing out. “I didn’t want you to come,” there was a faint hint of a laugh somewhere in those muttered words of his, though it didn’t last long at all. Matthew hadn’t meant it in the way it may have sounded, but simply in the way that he worries. His eyes slid open a moment to look up at Arthur, and slid down to see that shoulder—completely blood-soaked—before they closed again. “Arthur, go take care of yourself. I’ll be okay… Please.”

‘You should have what?’  Perhaps Arthur’s not-voice was a little sterner than it should have been, but there was no denying the disapproval that flashed across his smudged and dirty face.  ’Told it to bugger off?  I don’t know how much experience you’ve had with beasties such as that, but they don’t just take ‘no’ for an answer, lad.  Once they’ve found someone they want, they wiggle their way into them in the most subtle of ways, and by the time you finally realize just how much of a hold they have on you it’s too late.’   He knew that first-hand from Empire’s foolishness, from mischievous spirits in his younger years, from watching others fall into darkness without any way to emerge again.  Matthew was lucky that he was a nation, for while his situation was that much more dire, at least he could be cleansed and return.  Humans did not have such a luxury.  ‘If you believe nothing else of what I say, believe that you were incredibly lucky.’ 

Sighing, Arthur reached up to gently cup the other’s cheek. ‘Besides, if I hadn’t come, what then?  You may not live in the heart of civilization, but eventually your nature would have brought you close to people again.  Could you have lived with the guilt of knowing that you’d killed and eaten innocents?  Children?  So stop bemoaning what had happened to you and to me and just be thankful that everything will be alright with time and rest.  We’ve both seen worse than this.’   

He knew Matthew was hurting physically and emotionally; it was impossible not to see it.  Watching his lover’s gaze flicker down to the bloody mess of his shoulder only strengthened Arthur’s reserve to get him to rest. ‘In a moment.’  ‘Tilting Matthew’s face a little higher, the angel gave his cheek a gentle pat.  ‘Come now, look at me.  I want you to do me a favour and listen.’  Once violet met glowing green, Arthur smiled and touched the lad’s mind with his magic as he slipped into the old Celtic tongue with which usually performed his spell-work   He hadn’t used this spell in a long, long time, a holdover from when he still had colonies, and when those colonies were still young enough to need help sleeping.  ‘Sleep, my love, without dreams or nightmares.  Leave behind the terrors of the day for the rest of Caer Ibormeith, and may Brigit ease your pain.’  Gently he pushed his lover’s consciousness down until those lovely eyes fluttered and slipped closed once more, this time unburdened by the traumas of the day, and he waited there and held him close until certain that the other had fallen deeply asleep.

The angel’s wings wilted as he allowed himself to drop the facad of strength he’d been putting on for Matthew; blast it all, he was exhausted.  Slowly drawing himself to his feet, Arthur staggered back towards the bathroom and folded himself into the tiny room to get a better look at his injuries. The wintiko took a damned good chunk out of my shoulder, didn’t he?  He thought, probing gingerly at the edges of the torn flesh.  For now he’d have to chose between healing and shifting back to his normal form, a choice that barely took him a moment to make.  Pressing his palm against the surface of the wound, he muttered another spell under his breath and winced as muscle and skin began to knit back together beneath his touch.  One by one he moved between his injuries and jump-started his healing abilities, until finally he could look in the mirror and see nothing worse than dried blood and new scars.  

Yes, much better.

Cleaning the worst of that up- for he couldn’t exactly fold himself into a shower stall in this shape -Arthur returned to the bedroom and his lover’s side.  Seeing that he still slept soundly, the elder nation settled himself onto the far corner of the bed and dropped into a meditative state, the closest he’d allow himself to sleep while Matthew rested.  He closed his eyes and curled his wings protectively around his abused body.  Now he had nothing else to do but wait for Matthew to reawaken.

(Source: forever-albion)

mathieu-williams:

His whole sense of consciousness was ebbing in and out in a strangely comforting way, and he wasn’t sure if that was concerning or not. He wasn’t much in the state to care. So Matthew wasn’t sure if he heard Arthur correctly when he denied his apology—it didn’t upset him, but maybe Arthur just didn’t understand the whole situation, that was fine—and the sound that registered in his head was a complete jumble. It wasn’t so much Arthur’s voice as so much more and it was almost disorientating in just that one little word. His eyes, the violet in them slowly returning and shining through the muddy brown, looked up through a haze and confusion. If he hadn’t been trying to make sense of that, he probably would have missed those lips move and mouth words that were oddly comforting. He relaxed a little into Arthur’s touch, unsure whether it was from those silent words or his own sore fatigue.

There was a sudden jolt shooting through him when Arthur started to move, missing the gesture toward the house in the blur of his own haze and almost wanted to protest, but he didn’t. It was either from his inability to voice much of anything or from trusting Arthur, he wasn’t sure, but his hand reached up and gripped the other man’s blood soaked shirt. He tried not to let a sound of pain out. The thought that it might have been a little odd to be so easily carried by Arthur hadn’t occurred to him. He never questioned it as a groan slipped past as he was placed on his own bed , and it was in a slight daze did he realise with a bit of clarity that had been escaping him what Arthur was doing and brilliant white that wasn’t his own. At least he was sure that before that it wasn’t. But never said anything while Arthur did who knows what. It never really registered what exactly that was. 

It was with that touch to his cheeks that brought his attention back up to look up at Arthur with all the attention he could muster right then. His heart beat heavily in his chest for a moment and he wasn’t sure if it was from his current situation and adjusting to it or deciphering those whispered words from those lips above him. He wanted to believe it was the latter. And although he missed the mouthed apologies being worded right in front of him, feeling Arthur right there, pressed against his forehead and this strange sense of calm around them, Matthew held no ill feelings or doubts or regrets anymore. It hurt to move still, but even through that he brought his arms up around the other man and held him tight—as tight as he could, considering the circumstances. 

Who knows how long they stayed like that, silent and content through the pain and weight of what had happened, and though most of it Matthew tried his best not to let himself cry. He had felt those few tears fall on his skin from Arthur, and he’d wait for them to stop. He’d wait until he knew was fine and until then, he’d act it. Mumbling a soft “It’s okay,” seemed like the right thing to say right then. Though once his awareness of his surroundings was coming back to him and he could think a little clearly, that white was coming into focus. Matthew was fairly certain that Arthur never had any kind of wings. Maybe he was still out of it more than he thought. And his next words were out of his mouth sooner than he registered. 

“Am I dead—?” His words were hoarse and uncertain, as he was confused by the sight and the evidence against such a statement. How many times has he died, and something like this never happened. His country was still going strong, and even if the notion was true shouldn’t all this pain be gone? It just didn’t add up to him and the idea that what he was seeing was truly real didn’t occur to him. There simply had to be an explanation and the ones where he either was still unconscious, or simply had gone mad seemed rather plausible. His arms tightened around the other man as he tried to make sense of everything, “Arthur wh—” and his words didn’t seem to work for him anymore.

Matthew’s confusion was more than warranted and Arthur certainly couldn’t begrudge him that.  The arms that came up to embrace him were a surprise, however, and left him nearly groaning at the sudden burst of pain through his torn shoulder, but he bit back the sounds and returned it as gingerly as he could manage.  Ah, they really were both in sad shape, weren’t they?  But the beast had fled and they were alive, and he couldn’t ask for much more than that.

He nearly chuckled at his lover’s muddled attempts at comfort; trust Matthew to be the one trying to make others feel better, even when he himself lay battered and bloody.  It was okay, it would be okay, but if anyone should be saying such things it should probably be Arthur.  You’re such a ridiculous, precious lad, he thought to himself, wanting to touch and soothe but doing as little of it as possible in an attempt to keep from bringing him more pain.  I should be the one saying that, not you.

Dead?  Arthur tilted his head to the side, almost bird-like, before a brittle sort of smile spread across his face and he shook his head.  Of course the boy was trying to decipher the situation, to make sense of the magic which in his world just wasn’t real.  Well, he was just going to have to deal with them for now, because he wasn’t about to expend the energy needed to switch forms just yet; he was in a lot of pain and exhausted, and the spell he’d need to perform would likely knock him unconscious in such a state.  How would that help either of them?  Stretching out his wings just a little, Arthur shook them and let them settle back against his back.  ‘You’re not dead, and you’re not mad,’ he replied in as soft and slow a voice as he could manage.  ‘What you see is a reality, though it’s not one that you are used to.  That is all.’

Normally this would be Arthur’s cue to go off on a long and vaguely scolding rant that would all boil down to I told you so, but Matthew brains had been rattled entirely too much at present and he really didn’t need to be adding to it with the sound of his resonate voice.  Gently pulling back, the Englishman resumed his earlier activity, peeling bits of charred fabric back from Matthew’s body and tossing it over the side of the bed to worry about later.  ‘You were dead, obviously,’ he murmured, hands that could wield a blade or cast devastating spells now sliding over him with a healer’s touch, ‘but you’re back now.  That creature of yours really put you through the wringer, and my attempts to wrest control of the situation certainly didn’t help.  I don’t… I don’t like burning people, but it was the only thing I could think of to free you.’

The lad desperately needed a bath to get the worst of the grime from his skin, but for now Arthur merely dabbed at the worst spots with a damp cloth, mindful of any pain he might cause.  What a sight the two of them must make, one a bedraggled angel covered in blood and the other badly singed and barely conscious.  Several long moments passed as Arthur silently worked, his own mind going a mile a minute, and eventually his odd voice broke into the room once more.  ’If you’ve got questions, you may ask.  But if my voice causes you too much pain you must tell me and I’ll remain quiet.  I don’t wish to hurt you any more than I already have.’

(Source: forever-albion)