Merritt Mckinney (
the_hermit) wrote2016-06-15 12:43 am
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Entry tags:
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nine_ofswords
Summary: In which Merritt fails his will save Merritt makes a stupid decision... In which this thread ends badly.
--
Merritt goes still, something about him calming, and the smile that crosses his face is humorless. "That little 'stunt' was easy," he begins seriously, his tone becoming carefully measured.
"The Horsemen are my family, and leaving that man a drooling idiot was the very least I would do to protect them."
He's not close enough to actually, physically reach Ben, but he doesn't need to be. He swings, mentally, lashing out with a burst of magic designed to cripple.
--
Merritt goes still, something about him calming, and the smile that crosses his face is humorless. "That little 'stunt' was easy," he begins seriously, his tone becoming carefully measured.
"The Horsemen are my family, and leaving that man a drooling idiot was the very least I would do to protect them."
He's not close enough to actually, physically reach Ben, but he doesn't need to be. He swings, mentally, lashing out with a burst of magic designed to cripple.
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Filing it away for later, when his head doesn't feel like it's going to pop off his shoulders, he moves in to put an arm around Merritt, supporting him as the other Horsemen draw back. "You headed for the bathroom, too? Or should I drop you somewhere else?"
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For now, he just leans into Dylan's arm. "Bathroom first," he agrees, "and I could do with a drink. Of water, for now."
As much as he could do with some alcohol, it's probably not the best idea considering the current literally delicate state of his brain.
"I got it," Jack tells them as he finally stands, moving to follow them out of Merritt's room.
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"Sit," he orders belatedly, already moving to grab a couple of washcloths out of the linen closet. He runs one under the tap, warm water soaking into it, wrings it out, and passes it to Merritt. He repeats the process with the second and presses it under his own nose, mopping at the smear of blood there.
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It's unsettling all over again, how close he came to losing that fight, and he takes a breath as he finishes, as he lays the cloth back on the sink.
"When we're all less scrambled," he begins, quietly, "we need to talk about that guy. We might not have seen the last of him."
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He gestures between the two of them.
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There's the sound of uncoiling springs followed by a dull, vaguely metallic clunk followed by a softer fwump from the living room, followed a moment later by Jack's voice. "Sorry! That was loud."
"Your son's up to something," Merritt tells Dylan, bemused.
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When he recovers, he swallows thickly, rakes his tongue over his teeth and, very deliberately and very slowly, returns his attentions to Merritt. He tries for a wry smile; it mostly translates as strained. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
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It won't take much to figure it out, as he's shoved the coffee table out of the way and opened the pull-out from one of the sofas. Jack himself is out of sight at the moment, but then a door closes downstairs, and he dumps an armful of pillows and blankets onto it - and then looks up at them like he's not at all surprised they're there. "I figured the odds were good everybody was gonna go back to sleep, and..."
He also figures the odds are good they could all use the continued contact.
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The relief, however, fades a moment later and as he glances to Merritt. "I know your brain's kind of scrambled, right now, but ... " But is he going to be able to sleep, after everything that just happened, as much as he might want to, should?
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Merritt looks back at Dylan, frowning as he actually considers his answer to that question. "I think I'll be good," he returns after a moment, especially if they're going with Jack's plan to camp out downstairs.
He means that, too. He's not even worried about the potential for nightmares right now, considering the warmth they all gave him.
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"I'm gonna sleep for, like, twelve hours," he tells him, mock-confidentially. There's a note of seriousness behind it, too, however. He doesn't want anyone getting the wrong idea if they try and wake him before then and he shoos them away.
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"Pretty sure nobody's going anywhere but to sleep for the rest of the day," he returns - but he also really does appreciate the notice.
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Still quiet, Dylan looks to Jack. Can they fall into bed now, please?
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Merritt takes one of them, opening it to take a long drink. He feels better for it - but also stops at that, closing it again and setting it on one of the side tables. He doesn't really want to have to climb over everyone.
"Well, I'm laying back down," he tells them all, that done, and moves to do as threatened, letting out an exhausted sigh once he's settled.
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"Twelve hours," Dylan repeats, this time for the rest of the Horsemen. He already knows he doesn't have to explain what he means by that.
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Tomorrow, Merritt will worry about how much of an enemy he actually just made and what to do about it. For now, surrounded by warmth and family, he's just going back to sleep.