PSL

[maveth]

[Hive sleeps.

It's not really sleep, perhaps it's a state of hibernation. A state of living dead. He exists on earth again, he's home, he can taste it in his bones and he's been away for millennia, for centuries. It's this body, this body is frail, this body is - well dead - and he's inclined to keep it. Grant ward was strong, his muscles were skilled for a human, he was talented ,articulate, intelligent - perhaps overly so. If only he had been blessed enough to be an inhuman.

Yes. He can think that. It's not a compliment he gives often and perhaps that - that lull is what allows Grant Ward to swim to the surface. The being so hollow, resting on the laurels of victory, of being returned. Except he'd ended up somehow - thanks to fate - in his brother's hands. What did that mean? What good did it serve for HYDRA?

He would have asked those questions once.

Instead, wrapped in the blanket that his brother had thrown around his corpse, Grant Ward realizes he doesn't care. He doesn't care about HYDRA or SHIELD or Skye or anyone else right now he has to get his brother out. He has to take him away. Get him somewhere safe before Hive kills him too.

It's so hard admitting that. He wants him safe and happy and far away. With a girl, and for one disturbing moment Grant Ward can see the girl in Tommy's mind that his little brother wants. It's intoxicating, but Hive - Hive is still asleep.

This has to be done and fast.

It takes far longer then it should however and Grant Ward is aware. Aware of the smell. Aware of the horror. Aware of the pain in his chest, the crushing pain that makes him think of Coulson but oh if he can get Tommy away. If he can get Tommy away - I could give myself to him. to the Hive. Fully. Be embraced fully.

It was tempting.

So tempting he nearly collapsed in a pile of bones and rotted meat before shoving open Thomas Ward's door.

This has to be convincing. The thought of what he might do to his brother horrified him, cold unclenching cruel horror.

He pushed in the door.]

Tommy.


[His voice is a desperate anxious rasp. For the past month he'd been living on his couch eating all his raw meat growing fat, indulgent, lazy - or at least as much as a walking corpse could but this -

Fuck this would end it. For my brother]

Tommy it's me. It's Grant.

Tommy please wake up.

Comments

[scarredpsyche]

[He'd been finding it hard to sleep deeply since Hive'd been in the house. He tossed and turned a lot, had nightmares. Stress. He was stressed out and tense.

It didn't take much to wake him up. He stirred at the sound of Grant's voice, but he was sleepy and confused, and pushed his hair back from his face as he lifted his head.]

Hmm?