you drew stars. [a devereux] (Patreon)

synopsis: a little look into how much A values the hunter

A's skin is a map of scars. They litter their arms, trail their legs from their thighs down to their calves—they're certain there's one on the shell of their ear too, a nick from a near miss of claws from a werewolf who lunged at them in their first year.

For all the wonder of warlock healing, this is one of the downsides. The magic heals so fast, sometimes, that it's more prone to leaving scars. In A's case, it happens nearly every time, though they've earned fewer scars over the years—they don't get injured nearly as much as they do before.

Either way, A doesn't mind. They treasure each mark and the individual stories they tell, noting that each one was a near-death experience that they survived.

That's a perfectly reasonable thing to be proud of, isn't it?

They got their first bad one during their second year on the job. It'd been a slash on their upper left torso, courtesy of a dagger that a Fae had been carrying around. Later, it was determined to be the same weapon that was used in their murder spree across the city.

A doesn't remember much of that night. They think they've suppressed it, the pain of the wound too much for their hazy mind to hold onto anything.

What they do remember is your voice. An echo in the darkest chambers of their mind as they drifted in and out of consciousness. A panicked tone, a desperate request for them to open their eyes.

You told them later that they smiled in the passenger seat, mumbling incoherent words under their breath as you weaved your way through the traffic. What they were so happy about they weren't sure, but they had a feeling.

Because as long as you were there by their side, A didn't care what scenario they were put in. If they were dying, drowning in treacherous waters or bleeding out on the sidewalk, at least they'd be with you. Their favourite person in the world.

They once heard a saying that said simple stars become constellations when aligned.

If each interaction with you is a star in a cosmic universe, then the constellation is their being with you. The entire history of your relationship, from the moment you were paired to the day it'll eventually end, be it a bitter end to a friendship or because you're parted by death.

Laying on their bed, A's hand reaches up and traces the scar left behind from that fatal incident. They feel the bump beneath their fingers, as familiar to them as the calluses on their palm at this point.

Their free hand grapples for their phone.

to: bestie :)) 

12:05am

[nameeeeeeeeeee] i can't sleep

too much thinking, distract me

you're the bestest at this

to: dev-er-ruh

12:10am

bestest isn't a word

to: bestie :))

12:10am

YOU'RE AWAKE

hii! help me

SOS this is serious

to: dev-er-ruh

12:11am

just because you can't sleep doesn't mean you have to drag me into it

to: bestie :))

12:12am

please??

to: dev-er-ruh

12:14am

sigh

what's on your mind

to: bestie :))

12:15am

do you remember how i got that scar on my chest? when that fae decided it was a good idea to run at me and i just didn't move out of the way in time because, dumb

to: dev-er-ruh

12:15am

you're not dumb

and what about it

to: bestie :))

12:17am

i don't know. it's just on my mind. something about it doesn't want to let me sleep.

do you think i could have avoided it?

to: dev-er-ruh

12:20am

maybe. but if you didn't get injured that night, you probably would've on the next one. it's inevitable. it's been four years since we started doing this, you know this as well as i do.

caine's going to kill you if he knows you've been up thinking about this

to: bestie :))

12:23am

as if he'll ever follow through

but thanks, i know you're right. it's just hard sometimes

A lets their phone fall back to the bed, hand falling away from their scar.

They hate that they've bothered you with this. There's nothing more you can do than give the same advice time and time again, hoping that A actually listens for once. They want to, of course, but it doesn't always work out like that—their anxiety has a mind of its own.

Their phone lights up again. Soft blue light emits from the device, illuminating A's speckled ceiling. Stars. A thousand stars littering the sky of their room. A constellation that is you and them.

They fall asleep before they can see what the message is, but they read it first thing in the morning. For the rest of the day, they're happy, bouncing around the department with an abundance of energy. You only laugh when you see how hyper they are.

to: dev-er-ruh

12:28am

i'm always here for you