#◟brothers ◦ ᵍˡᵒʳʸ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵍᵒʳᵉ ᵍᵒ ʰᵃᶰᵈ ᶤᶰ ʰᵃᶰᵈˑ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

narcisisto-archive · 8 years ago

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“How many times have I told you to not go there?” [ blood-and-molten-steel ]

Late nights were often spent in the slums, dueling some older fool for a free meal or lick of gold while others in the alleyways watched, placed their bets, and caused a commotion. He had a poor habit of ending up here when wandering off, old dagger in hand and staring down his opponent. The signature axes he used were military grade and, considering he was still a kid, they couldn’t leave the armory during rest periods. Not that it bothered him; the dagger was all too familiar.

Draven was small, significantly so, and he had no place within his own barracks. The other kids shunned, berated, and beat him on the confirmation of his minimal Ionian ties despite pledging complete loyalty to Noxus whilst being mostly Noxian. He was a soldier like the rest, thirsty for the hunt but hungry for recognition, so a street lamp would be his spotlight and drunkards would be his audience. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s killed another bum anyway, hearing bets against him only fueling the desire to prove himself the best. Besides, the military hardly fed them enough as it was and he’d never outright admit to Darius of his troubles with the others.

But now that he’s back, shirt torn and stained red like his hands, Draven’s unsurprised to see who’s up late waiting for him. This wasn’t the first time he’s done this, disheveled to all hell with his hair a fabulous mess of fluff. Red ran down the side of his face and neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt that’d end up in the trash when he sneaks back into his quarters after all have fallen asleep. However, he’s frozen like a deer caught in headlights, meeting the gaze of the older boy who always seemed a little too concerned with his well being.

Even as Darius approaches, there’s no need for an explanation because somehow he already knew that Draven’s gone and disobeyed his wishes again. Draven grimaces as a thumb comes up to wipe at his face, turning it away to avoid further contact just to be more stubborn than necessary. He’s sore, exhausted beyond belief, and bruised more than he had been after training. Yet as that question breaks the silence, Draven’s upper lip curls in annoyance. It’d be a lie to say he didn’t expect the backlash, having already assumed the scenario over and over again in his head; now that he’s face-to-face with Darius, all witty comebacks seem lost.

“It doesn’t matter!” He countered, standoffish and clearly irritated despite the tired slur of his words that mixed with aggression. “I was hungry so I fed myself.” He was used to it. Despite the military being a crutch to stand on, old habits would likely never die until he was forced onto a battlefield again. There’s a moment before he digs through the pockets of his pants, fishing out half of a wrapped sandwich and roughly two apples. One of the apples ended up shoved against Darius’ chest with the sandwich, literally forced into his arms.

“You’re gonna need more than what they give you too, so here. This is my apology, not that I should have to give one anyway. It’s not like I’m dead.” Draven shrugs, turning the remaining apple over to distract himself with something before the inevitable and suspected scold fest ensued. To his surprise, Darius only seemed to turn and head back home, stopping when Draven didn’t follow him.

Feet quickly move to catch up, the younger falling into step beside the older and, for the first time in what felt like forever, Draven felt a sense of true belonging.

#anonymous #here have a young thing you nerd #◟brothers ◦ ᵍˡᵒʳʸ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵍᵒʳᵉ ᵍᵒ ʰᵃᶰᵈ ᶤᶰ ʰᵃᶰᵈˑ #◟ic ◦ ᵐᵒˡᵗᵉᶰ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵃ ˢᵐᶤˡᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʷᵃʳ #◟asks ◦ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᶤˢᵒᶰᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ʰᶤˢ ᵖᵃˢᵗ #◟drabble ◦ ᵘᶰᵗᵒˡᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳᶤᵉˢ ᵈʳᶤᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᶤˢ ᶠᶤᶰᵍᵉʳᵗᶤᵖˢ #long post

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