So I just watched the vow and obviously I can’t stop thinking about Thenamesh in that context so here is my prompt for you — Thena somehow loses her memories and with it goes the memory of her marriage to Gil, but he helps her slowly and patiently remember their love 🥺
"Hey."
Thena jumped, whirling around to look at the doorway. Once again, guilt rose up in her throat as Gil held up his hand and made that terribly sad expression he had on most of the time.
"S-Sorry, sorry, I, uh-" he gulped in the middle of his sentence, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He kept doing that, perhaps to make himself seem less...broad. "I promised I would stop doing that, too."
No, it was unfair to him to make him knock on every door within his own home. She was the one who was jumpy and easily startled. The doctors said they didn't know how quickly it would or wouldn't fade. There wasn't much her doctors could promise her--them.
She had been in the hospital after the 'episode' for some time, anyway. As they explained it, it was a bleed in her brain, a stroke in not so many words. She had forgotten years of her life in a flash, lashed out in fear and confusion, even hurt Gil in the process.
He still had the scar on his arm from her attacking him. And yet he'd been the perfect husband through all of this, utterly and completely. If only she could remember him.
She thought maybe she would at least remember meeting him, knowing him in some way. But no, it was a stranger sitting beside her bed, cradling her hand between his, crying for her to be okay again. And she had done nothing but hurt him since.
Gil said that wasn't true.
He had been nothing but supportive from the moment she awoke. The doctors told them that her memories were fragile, and might never return in their entirety. He was a stranger to his own wife. Surely anyone would need to go through their own grieving process for their life in that way.
But Gil had looked at her far kinder than any stranger. He had given her the space she needed, understood that she didn't like people at the best of times, let alone when she was vulnerable. He did things like bring her changes of clothes, food that wasn't abhorrent, sit in her room with her while she tried to relax enough to sleep.
She did feel safe with him.
Safe enough to finally leave the hospital. They had done the physical therapy, the rehabilitative therapy, just about everything else. There was no more reason to keep her there, with exception to the gap in her memories.
"I left you some stuff I thought you might," he paused, gesturing from afar to the dresser by the guest bed, "like. I-I know you don't remember it, I just...I dunno."
"No, it-" she also choked on her words, nervous about what to say to him, "it's sweet, Gil. Thank you."
He smiled, just a little; he did every time she called him Gil.
She clutched at the shirt she was unpacking. He had brought her pajamas to sleep in while she was in the hospital, but they hadn't seemed right. And she had eventually deduced that they were indeed purchased brand new. What she had decided to sleep in more comfortably was an old shirt of his that had been shoved into a bag brought to her. "Come in."
He did so, shuffling into the guest room in their shared home awkwardly.
Her brows furrowed, even though it made her head throb. "You shouldn't have to be invited into a room in your own home."
He looked at her, his brown eyes so rich and soulful. But he smiled, "our home. And you need a space that's yours. Time to get used to...things."
Get used to him, he meant. And she hated that he was completely correct. She felt safe around him, but she didn't know this man (this sweet, kind, beautiful man).
"You decorated this room, anyway," he chuckled, looking around at the cream coloured walls and generic frames hung around the space. He clung to the walls, giving her a wide berth. "I wanted to turn it into an office or a place for a pool table or something."
Thena looked at the bed and then at him. "Wouldn't fit much else with that in here."
His smile lightened faintly. "You said that then, too."
She smiled as well, setting down her trusty shirt.
"And you were right, as always," he added, chuckling again. He arrived at the dresser, poking at some of the little things he had apparently brought and left out for her. "Kari crashes here sometimes."
Thena's eyes sparked at the mention of her. Gil looked both elated and wounded; they both wished she could have that level of recognition for anything that had to do with him.
Silence fell over them, and Gil looked down at his feet again. He was going to leave her to settle in, but she stepped closer to him, eager for more time with his company. She looked down at the dresser. "I remember this."
He smiled, picking up the little wooden cheetah and handing it to her with heartbreaking delicacy. "You love this thing."
"From when Kari went to Kenya for three whole months," Thena tilted her head at the little carving. She truly did value it. For all her insistence that Makkari was the trinket lover, not herself, apparently this little cat had called to her so clearly that she just had to bring it back to Thena.
Gil reached for something else, "what about this?"
She looked at the lovely little shell, but she didn't remember it. She stared and stared at it though, hoping she would. She just didn't want to admit to Gil that it didn't strike a single chord within her.
"It's okay," he whispered, forgiving her for something neither of them could control.
"Tell me about it?" she practically begged before he could take it back from her. Her palm tightened around the tiny little shell. It was so small and precious, she already felt protective over it.
He was obviously surprised, but she held his eyes. His face really betrayed everything he was feeling. She watched his expression melt as he whispered, "okay."
"Well," he started, moving them to both sit on the end of the bed. "You and I met...on the beach."
"The beach?" she balked before telling herself not to interrupt his very important story.
"I know," he chuckled, though. "You hate the beach."
He did know everything about her.
"But you were there painting, or collecting seashells, or looking for clay or something," he shrugged, the memory faded but precious for him. "I saw you at the end of the beach, kind of away from everyone. You obviously weren't looking for company but...I just wanted to exchange even one word with you."
"I jogged over, asked you if I could help you find something. You didn't talk to me at first, but I asked, and asked, and eventually you told me you were looking for a shell. And I mean it was probably just to shut me up," he added, making them both laugh. "But I said I'd help you look. Boy, the look you gave me--I'd still be dead and buried under that sand."
She offered a sheepish smile, but that was as much a lovingly remembered detail as the rest, for him.
"I found this," he tapped the shell in her hand. "I handed it to you and said, 'hey, you match!'. You gave me that look again, but I could tell you thought I was kinda cute."
She pursed her lips at that, but she had to admit that this man called her husband was undeniably charming. She could see herself very reluctantly admitting that he might not have been so bad.
"I saw you again a few times," he recounted, a different, dreamier, distant smile on his face. "Eventually you were out there with an easel, and I got to see you painting. You let me see it in progress and everything."
Perhaps she was already quite infatuated with him then, because she would rather fight to the death than allow something in progress to be viewed while she was working on it.
"I looked at your easel," he grinned at her, "and you had this shell sitting on the corner, like a good luck charm or something."
Thena felt herself blush faintly. It was a different her in the story, but she felt for that Thena's embarrassing secret being discovered.
"I asked you if you wanted to join me for dinner," Gil whispered, closing her hand around the little shell for safe keeping. "You said you didn't want to dine with me while I was all sweaty and in my jogging stuff."
Thena laughed. That certainly sounded like her (uncharming, unfunny her).
"I said okay, meet me here at sunset," he made a challenging face at her, and she could imagine how handsome it might seem in the right light. "You did and, well...history, right?"
History she wanted to remember.
Thena looked at Gil, sitting close to her, so warm and so solid. He was comfortable, she knew that much. She was no expert on physical closeness, but the times she had been in Gil's proximity via sharing an umbrella or letting him help her out of bed were nice. He had a gentle, calming presence.
He swallowed, his eyes flicking all over her face. She didn't even realise she had been leaning in until he moved his head quickly, stretching up so he could press his lips to her forehead. "You should rest, sweetheart. It's been a big day."
She felt both relieved and disappointed. The shell was still in her hand as he stood slowly, leaving her seated on the end of the bed.
He paused at the doorway again, lit softly by the lamp beside the bed. "You're welcome to anything, 'course--I mean everything, absolutely. But if you - I dunno - need help finding something or whatever...just wake me, okay?"
She already felt lonely at the thought of being in this room all by herself. And that was after weeks of being in the hospital, desperately wishing to be left alone. She nodded.
"'Kay," he smiled again, but it was back to being sad. He patted the wall, "night, Thena. I'll leave breakfast for you before I go to work."
He left gently, closing the door behind him, nothing if not a gentleman. To his own wife, in his own home. Thena flopped backwards on the bed, still holding onto her beloved little shell. She had been so desperate to have some time to herself in the hospital--really think about who she was and what her life was like.
But there was something undeniably lonely about the times when she was without him. Every time he came home for clothes or to shower or had to go to work, she had to admit, she was terribly bored without him.
Would it be terribly inappropriate to ask to sneak into bed with her own husband?
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WSBH chara q’s: (you don’t have to answer all the numbers, just whatever you want to 𖢘)
16/35/51 for Scotch
1/6/55 for Atlas
I LOVE YOU
16. What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?
okay i truly think scotch argues with seraph in his head all the time. ALL the time. scotch largely ignores them, and vice versa, because he dislikes them and they know it. seraph is very conflict avoidant lol, and as long as hes not a "threat" they dont care to talk to him about their problems. he probably argues with atlas and jacob (his older brother) too, atlas about more stupid small stuff, and jacob about childhood and life stuff :p
im trying to think of more general groups he would argue with but i cant come up with anything BAHAH. hes not exactly conflict avoidant in the annoying libra way that seraph is, he more just ignores conflict for his friends’ (mostly atlas’) sake. idk if that makes sense LOL
35. What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?
hmmm.. smallest? i mean scotch strings eloise along for most of the time pre timeskip. its not a main focus but its definitely important in order to understand scotch as a whole. she and scotch go out for a while, and mid way through that he realizes hes GAY gay. lol. and obviously lying to her about that is pretty questionable after a while. especially since he and atlas have been 👉👌 like the whole time. but she kind of knows. well
something a little bigger would be him encouraging or otherwise turning a blind eye to all the weird stuff atlas is up to. he doesn't know what it's like to be a werewolf, he can't say anything, right? lol.... murder is okay if its a talking dog doing it. scotch enabler supreme. actually when seraph is introduced, he and atlas have a 'joke' (kind of starts being real) about luring seraph somewhere to kill them. obviously doesnt happen and gets abandoned. but i think its important to know about their dynamic LOL
51. What’s a phrase they say a lot?
this guy is kind of goofy. i cant think of phrases rn but he has a specific way of speaking.. you could watch pretty much any old pop punk band interview and kind of get the idea. HAHAH
1. What’s the lie your character says most often?
atlas is a big fan of saying 'its fine' for all situations ever. family in mortal danger? its fine. completely splitting? its fine. arthritis excruciating? its fine. hes one of those people that dont like to deal with the fawning of others unless hes feeling real special. Ends up putting people in more danger a lot of the time. i think eloise is the only fan of communication in this friend group to be honest. i should have made her the main character
he tends to make promises he cant keep as well, but thats more general..
6. What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?
i have NO idea. i feel like atlas would be a music snob, so maybe his favorite 'super underground' bands. otherwise he'd probably never recommend raw human meat to another human (no matter how much scotch asks -__-).. (he would chicken out anyway)
55. What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?
um. so atlas hates working out. he especially hates running, you know, the thing that wolves are known for doing a lot of? unfortunately the lycanthropy came with a side effect of pretty bad arthritis, so that doesnt exactly encourage him. he DOES exercise, a lot since hes pretty much required for his ermm "side job", but he hates it 😸 besides the arthritis it’s mostly because I think it’s silly that he hates it. yay
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Ship Art | John Seed x Sabrina Donovan | sketch by @felrija ❤️ || a scene from my WIP In Hope Of Tomorrow, snippet below the cut
"I won't lie, I was planning on killing you."
"And yet you didn't. Why?"
"A change of circumstances."
It felt like at least 2 hours had passed before the door opened again.
Sabrina kept her eyes casted downward as a pair of boots came into view, crossing over the threshold, their owner humming a familiar tune.
I know this melody.
It was the song she sang in the cell.
He was there, listening.
The realization made her look up, her hazel eyes met John's as he neared, stepping into the light that spilled from the chandelier above. He was wearing jeans, a blue dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up and way too many buttons undone, on top of it was a vest that belonged more in a courtroom than in a bunker in the Middle of nowhere, Montana.
"Kept you waiting, didn't I, Deputy?"
A dark smirk marred his handsome face, his posture exuding confidence, like he was about to slip into an opening statement any moment. Only in this room he had full reign, assuming the role of judge, jury and executioner.
"Probably should consider serving some tea, maybe redecorating your dungeon. Red's a bit on the nose, don't you think? And I wouldn't rate your goon very highly on any scale either."
The comment made him chuckle, and she tried to ignore how familiar it sounded, how it pulled on her soul.
"Now, I'm not usually late, but someone decided to attempt to derail my Cleansing.", at that he unconsciously went to smooth out his dark hair, making Sabrina realize it's damp.
Sabrina narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching, "Did someone try to drown you, Seed?"
Don't laugh again.
And he didn't, sending a smirk her way instead.
"Now, Deputy, enough jokes, there are more pressing matters.", his head tilted slightly, his expression almost... giddy.
"What's a joke is you thinking holding a Deputy hostage is a good idea, you of all people should know it's far from it. Aren't you supposed to be a hotshot lawyer?", she couldn't stop her sneer.
"Deputy-"
Sabrina cut him off, "I have a name."
"Yes. Sabrina Blythe Donovan.", he said it matter-of-factly, but Sabrina could tell he took pride in that knowledge.
It didn't shock her he knew her full name, with Nancy being on Eden's Gate side no doubt information about the whole Sheriff's Department was leaking like a sieve.
A dry laugh escaped her, "Next you're going to tell me the name of my first boyfriend."
John crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, "Knowledge is power after all. And, Sabrina, you wouldn't be here if you didn't try to arrest my brother. You all had choice and it led to this."
She pushed down the feeling at how familiar her name sounded on his lips, the twinge of longing it caused in her was nothing. It had to be.
"There was an arrest warrant. I was just doing my job. Your brother is a criminal, and now so are you and all of your people."
"I'm doing MY job, Deputy. You're a sinner and so are your friends.", he retorted, his words full of conviction as he headed for his torture table.
Sabrina froze, expecting him to notice a knife was missing, when he said nothing, she continued, "Why am I here?"
The words came out sharper than intended, carrying the tone she used when interrogating suspects back in Portland, the one that got her straight answers and stripped away all the nonsense.
John turned, a look of amusement flashing across his face as he leaned against the table, legs crossed at the ankles.
"I should be the one asking questions here, Deputy."
"Old habits die hard, I was a-"
"A detective back in", a dramatic pause, he raised a finger, "Portland. And you left it all behind to work for Whitehorse. Can't wait for you to tell me why."
"I'm not telling you shit. I don't know what you think you're doing-"
John stalked towards her with swiftness that took her aback as he grabbed the armrests of her chair, the force behind his movement making the wheels skid across the floor.
His face had grown serious, piercing blue eyes boring into hers as he loomed over her.
"You will talk, confess every sin, no matter how small. I know exactly what I’m doing here."
Their proximity sent a shiver up her spine and she tried to tell herself it was the bad kind.
He was so close to a point Sabrina could smell the musky scent of river that clung to his skin. He had indeed taken a dive, her amusement at the confirmation died down quickly. His nearness, the position of his hands as he held onto the chair allowed her to see his tattoos in detail for the first time.
In seconds her whole world came crashing down, her blood froze.
No.
She knew these tattoos, had seen them countless times in her visions, had drawn them over and over to the point they were embedded in her memory.
NO.
The hand holding hers as the world ended.
The man that called her "Butterfly".
It was John.
John fucking Seed.
His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "Hm. A butterfly."
He was looking at her tattoo, at one of the butterflies that wasn't hidden by the strap of her top.
As if she needed any more reminders of the tragic realization she had just came to, John said the damned word again as he backed away, "Why a butterfly, Deputy?"
He was back to being nonchalant, like the outburst hadn't even happened.
All she could do was blink, wishing her eyes were lying to her.
"You still with me, Sabrina?", it had finally hit him she wasn't replying, that she wasn't talking back.
Breathe. Focus. Snap out of it.
"Wish I wasn't, won't lie.", she tried to hold onto her composure.
Silence took over as John went back to his table, picking up a tool, looking it over then placing it down with care and grabbing another one, repeating the process. It felt mechanical, like a show.
Her own knife felt heavy in her hands, the tip prickling her skin, a wake-up call. She knew what she had to do in order to get back to Savannah, imagined it in the hours he made her wait on him.
Plunging the blade deep, ending a life.
But doubt was creeping in...
Her plan, the dark path she planned to take, there was a chance she would fail, she had seen him alive too many times.
And her most recent vision... from the sounds of that one he was breathing and pissed off.
John spoke up again, his attention still on the table in front of him, "My brother's church. Let's start there. You saw something."
It wasn't a question, he sounded sure of it. She hadn't been able to hide her distress, even tried to stop the arrest.
A new path became visible. A plan with a giant leap of faith. Probably the most dumb and risky decision she has ever made in her life.
He wanted answers, and she was going to play along. For now.
"I will tell you what I saw, but I doubt you'd believe it, they never do."
Another smirk, making her feel nauseous. "Try me, Deputy."
"I saw the crash. Before it happened, I mean."
"A vision.", he nodded mostly to himself, "Joseph has them."
"You believe then?"
"They're from God. Of course I believe him."
John believed Joseph, not her. She was used to people's scepticism, but she had a way to prove it this time.
"There's more, John."
Something flashed across his face at her saying his name outloud for the very first time, but the mask was back in place too quickly for her to figure out what.
Focus.
Her mother was good at selling any con, always knew how to approach a person, what they'd want to hear, which buttons to push.
"Say his name. Look him in the eyes and sell the idea, make him think it's his own, darling. There's always an offer a man won't be able to refuse, one he'd throw himself in the deep end for, willingly.
And when he's about to sink, you offer a hand, pledge your loyalty. He'd be a goner before you know it."
A part of Candice lived in Sabrina, and for once she let it take over.
"I will tell you what's coming, but I will need something in return.", her voice sounded unshakeable, certain, the exact opposite of how she felt inside.
John didn't break her eye contact, nor interrupted her.
Sabrina got up from the chair, discarding the ropes as her hands dropped to her sides.
"You've been untied this whole time, Deputy?", his eyes shone with amusement again.
She took a few steps until she stood almost in front of him, her hand holding out her knife.
Surrendering her weapon.
"And you had a knife?"
When he made no move to take it, Sabrina placed the blade on his "work" bench and walked back, sitting down in the chair and rubbing her wrists.
"I won't lie, I was planning on killing you."
"And yet you didn't. Why?"
"A change of circumstances."
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