wintersday (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wintersday) wrote2019-11-17 11:22 pm
wintersday) wrote2019-11-17 11:22 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Underneath Our Winter Clouds
Title: Underneath Our Winter Clouds
Fandom: The Magnus Archives
Major Characters/Pairings: Naomi Herne/Evan Lukas
Wordcount: 500
Rating: PG
POV: Third person
Summary: Sometimes the difficult choice is the one most worth making. Evan has no regrets.
Notes: I realize that Evan was probably not ever a full avatar, but. What if he was?
Evan Lukas has been cold, of late.
No. That’s not entirely accurate. He’s been cold since the day he was born, but the chill that’s recently settled over him feels deeper, more pervasive, than the ambient lack of warmth he remembers from childhood – or maybe it’s only his tolerance that’s been altered. It’s been a long time since he spent his days looking out the window at the mist-shrouded countryside of his family’s home, knowing that his forsaken god was a part of him, and he a part of it. The world had seemed very simple, back then, and he had felt very safe, until the day he met a lonely stranger’s eyes and realized that he knew what that god wanted, but it was harder to say what he was hungry for.
Now, though, it’s simple again: his family is here, and that white, blanketing fog is a thing that belongs far away from the people he loves. Never mind that he catches sight of pale tendrils gathering at the threshold when Naomi sweeps through the door with her arms full of groceries, a birthday card and a bottle of wine; never mind that he looked in the mirror this morning and saw a curl of mist escape his lungs. It won’t touch her, and he’s got some time yet before it catches up to him. Until that day, there’s this: groceries on the counter, city sounds outside the window, a home as bright and warm as he can make it.
Naomi is warm, too, when she takes his hands in hers, and the clinging chill dissipates beneath the force of her smile. She throws her arms around him, and the world tilts beneath his feet as he sways, momentarily lightheaded. He catches himself against the countertop, and she draws back, frowning, to touch his face with careful fingers.
“You OK?” she asks.
He’s dying. A weak heart, his father says. His father’s opinions on weakness have already been made more than clear.
“Fine,” he says. “I just haven’t eaten since – ”
The lie comes easily. “Since breakfast. But there’ll be food at the party, and if we don’t leave soon, we’ll be running late.”
“They won’t mind,” she says. “We’re bringing booze.”
“Of course,” he says, and kisses her, smells something floral in her hair, feels the way she leans against him and knows that there’s something in her that loneliness can’t break. She’ll outlast him, then. He’s glad of it.
“I love you,” he tells her, and what he means is, don’t ever forget that you are loved.
The fog is a pale ocean outside the door, muffling footsteps, slipping beneath his jacket and under his skin. He knows what it wants, and what he won’t give it, and he knows the way through it to the other side, where lights burn in every window and friends wait to drink and celebrate another year.
He takes Naomi’s arm in his, and they walk out into the night together.
Fandom: The Magnus Archives
Major Characters/Pairings: Naomi Herne/Evan Lukas
Wordcount: 500
Rating: PG
POV: Third person
Summary: Sometimes the difficult choice is the one most worth making. Evan has no regrets.
Notes: I realize that Evan was probably not ever a full avatar, but. What if he was?
Evan Lukas has been cold, of late.
No. That’s not entirely accurate. He’s been cold since the day he was born, but the chill that’s recently settled over him feels deeper, more pervasive, than the ambient lack of warmth he remembers from childhood – or maybe it’s only his tolerance that’s been altered. It’s been a long time since he spent his days looking out the window at the mist-shrouded countryside of his family’s home, knowing that his forsaken god was a part of him, and he a part of it. The world had seemed very simple, back then, and he had felt very safe, until the day he met a lonely stranger’s eyes and realized that he knew what that god wanted, but it was harder to say what he was hungry for.
Now, though, it’s simple again: his family is here, and that white, blanketing fog is a thing that belongs far away from the people he loves. Never mind that he catches sight of pale tendrils gathering at the threshold when Naomi sweeps through the door with her arms full of groceries, a birthday card and a bottle of wine; never mind that he looked in the mirror this morning and saw a curl of mist escape his lungs. It won’t touch her, and he’s got some time yet before it catches up to him. Until that day, there’s this: groceries on the counter, city sounds outside the window, a home as bright and warm as he can make it.
Naomi is warm, too, when she takes his hands in hers, and the clinging chill dissipates beneath the force of her smile. She throws her arms around him, and the world tilts beneath his feet as he sways, momentarily lightheaded. He catches himself against the countertop, and she draws back, frowning, to touch his face with careful fingers.
“You OK?” she asks.
He’s dying. A weak heart, his father says. His father’s opinions on weakness have already been made more than clear.
“Fine,” he says. “I just haven’t eaten since – ”
The lie comes easily. “Since breakfast. But there’ll be food at the party, and if we don’t leave soon, we’ll be running late.”
“They won’t mind,” she says. “We’re bringing booze.”
“Of course,” he says, and kisses her, smells something floral in her hair, feels the way she leans against him and knows that there’s something in her that loneliness can’t break. She’ll outlast him, then. He’s glad of it.
“I love you,” he tells her, and what he means is, don’t ever forget that you are loved.
The fog is a pale ocean outside the door, muffling footsteps, slipping beneath his jacket and under his skin. He knows what it wants, and what he won’t give it, and he knows the way through it to the other side, where lights burn in every window and friends wait to drink and celebrate another year.
He takes Naomi’s arm in his, and they walk out into the night together.