twelve, not of this world

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twelve"win the war"

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twelve
"win the war"

When Lusine came to, her wounds were stitched tightly together and she ached with every breath. Forcing her eyes open, her entire body jolted at the sight of another set staring right at her from the bed alongside her.

"You're alive then," Casia commented, evaluating the state of the goddess who'd almost shattered her skull, regarding the stark bruise along her cheek with a subtle graze of the eye.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you," Lusine replied, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed and craning her neck to see Casia better, to peer into those shut-off eyes and make her see that she truly meant every word she spoke. That there was no trickery. No mischief. "I was not in control of myself."

"Clearly," Casia said, lifting her broken arm plastered in a cast up. "Almost killed me."

Lusine blinked, remembering the power that had worked her like a machine. "I should have killed you." Though her words sounded devious and hateful, there was not even a shadow of that as she spoke with a soft and raspy voice that barely rose to meet Casia's ears.

"I'm sorry?" Casia's purpled face, where Lusine's hands had gripped her, took a dim view of those words, rising from her pillow and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, sitting, but prepared.

"The way I..." Lusine took a breath, "the way I attacked you should have killed you. It would have killed any other mortal."

"I guess I was lucky," Casia responded, tracing a finger along the scrawled name on the white of the cast. "So, you fought Loki? Is that why you're here?"

Lusine swallowed and shook her head. "No. I fought Cathal and won," She said, grimacing as she sat up and leaned back against the metal backboard.

"You don't seem happy about that," She noted, shoulders tensing as Lusine pushed her legs over the side of the bed and sat facing her with a face as grim as the reaper himself. "Was it bad?"

"Bad is an understatement and a half for killing your own cousin to defend someone who might just go on to destroy this world," Lusine replied, rolling her shoulders, testing the healing's boundaries with every click and crunch of her bones as she ironed out the creases.

"You should be resting," Steves voice said sternly as he marched into the quarters, arms folded across his chest, but the mock frustration was flawed by the worry etched across the lines of his face.

"Well," Lusine stood, wincing as her injured leg strained, "there's no rest for the wicked." Steve moved to support her, but she swatted him away. "I can do it myself," She snapped, but reeled herself back in and added, "Thank you, though, Captain."

"Just call me Steve," He said.

Lusine gave him a slight nod of her head, barely noticeable, as she tested her weight on the injured leg. "Steve it is."

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