hiraeth (noun) - a homesickness for a home you cannot return to, or that never was

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ now playing ; kind love by bears in trees

FREDDIE WAS PRETTY SURE THE
GROUND SPINNING BENEATH
HIM WAS A BAD SIGN

No way in hell Freddie Harrow was sick.

Frederick Harrow didn't get sick. At least, he hadn't in a long, long time. Apparently, now was the time for change. Fitting, he supposed, he was an immortal now after all.

Wait a second, were immortals even supposed to get sick?

Is that a thing?

He supposed they could break their wings, so he guessed so. Which sorta fucking sucked for him - well actually, no it didn't, because he wasn't sick. Not at all. Not even a little.

If only it worked like that.

The earth smelled cool, mist rolling off the incline of hills that remained on the far side of the island, softening the dirt beneath them. Echo stood across from him, stretching her arms up into the sky. She was speaking, he could hear it, but the words were soft and muffled, like he was under water. Echo was naturally soft-spoken, but especially today, apparently. She'd invited him to morning yoga with her, in the misty morning of Elysian. He'd gladly accepted. Not all that far away, he knew that Amir was training with Cue.

Poor Amir.

Freddie had trained with Cue once, but he didn't think it had been very beneficial, but still, Cue had been surprisingly patient, which was odd, considering some of the stories that the others had told them about their rigorous training sessions.

The only one who didn't seem to mind them all that much, was Cassian. Then again, Cassian also looked like he could play the motorcycle jock in any highschool tv series in the 2000's or something. Sometimes he thought Cue was going easy on him, or that he didn't think as highly of him as he thought of the others. Freddie really wouldn't have blamed him, the others did seem fairly important, and much more capable too.

Besides, he got to do yoga with Echo this morning. It was really nice to be invited to something. Echo took one of them everyday of the week, and because today was Tuesday, it was his turn.

Echo was so graceful, even in the morning, with a half-bandaged wing. She moved with a particular elegance that was difficult to replicate, a dancer's elegance. That's what his grandfather used to say, anyway. Some people had such a lightness to them, such a delicate balance, as if every step was taken on a fragile pair of glass slippers.

He wondered if Echo had been a dancer in a past life. She would have been good at it, if she had. No doubt Joon would agree.

Of course, Freddie could probably just mention Echo, and suddenly, Joon found other subjects, like chemistry, and explosions, and the anatomical patterns of the space-time continuum particularly interesting.

The ground was looking a lot like the anatomical patterns of the space-time continuum right now. Meaning: it was really fucking confusing, and everything was spinning in weird ways.

He felt nauseous.

That kind of heavy feeling, where you don't think you're quite gonna throw up, but everything is off-kilter, and you're really disoriented, and you're pretty sure someone is talking, but words are really hard to register right now.

Echo was definitely talking, because one moment she'd been more than a few feet away from him, and the next two warm hands found his arms, steadying him in a heartbeat, and a sharp, soothing voice pierced through his thoughts. Like a lightning strike in a dark storm, firing straight into the center of his mind

It wasn't like normal talking, no, it was something deeper than that. The sound resonated into his thoughts, and the world, for a moment, seemed to restabilize.

"Freddie."

He raised his head, meeting a pair of eyes that desperately was searching for his own. An emotion he recognized, one that Echo seemed to frequent. Worry.

"Freddie, can you hear me?"

That deep vibration in his head had retracted, telepathic claws retreating into some distant plane. The world again swirled, but Echo remained there. An anchor as she latched onto him. The only thing Freddie could manage was a nod. That sickening feeling began to rise in his stomach again, and for a moment, he was really, really, worried he was about to vomit all over his best friend.

Echo probably wouldn't have cared, knowing her.

Fortunately for both of them, he didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes, listening to Echo as she spoke to him. Softly, kindly, as she always did. "Good, you can hear me, i'm gonna take you home, alright?"

No. He couldn't go home - Echo hadn't even finished her yoga yet, and if they went home now, he'd disrupt her whole routine, which would upset her, probably - and that in turn would upset him. And then, because when Echo is upset, the whole world is probably upset, so everything would be utterly, perfectly, ruined, and it would be his fault.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but still.

Echo didn't seem to interpret his incoherent protest, and if she did, she promptly chose to ignore it, because suddenly she shifted, taking his arm in hers, and began carefully guiding him back down the path towards his home.

He'd taken the route before, he could have made it on his own, he was sure of it. Echo seemed insistent however, despite the soft, certainly de-constructed versions of some kind of argument.

It happened really quickly, if he was being honest. One moment, they'd been at the clearing, and the next, Echo was opening the door to his house, letting sunlight illuminate the home he now knew. It wasn't that Freddie didn't remember, it was as if his memory wouldn't let him summon it up into something he could recognize.

Oh. This is why I hate being sick, right.

Because when Freddie was sick, he couldn't think right, and thinking was really the only thing he had going for him, and he was even less than adequate at that. It's not like he minded or anything, being average and all, he thought it made him a really nice background character.

Like, every good story needs a nice npc that you end up adopting in the end. Of course, in some of those stories, the npc ends up dying, and it's really tragic for like, two chapters, and then everyone is kind of over it.

But that's not really the point.

He felt Echo's palm on his back, guiding him to sit on one of the chairs nearby, her hand gliding off his arm. He heard the scurrying sound of her likely digging through the kitchen for some kind of medicine, soft rambling of nonsense being sung under her breath, before she temporarily reappeared with a pill cup in hand, and a bottle of water. "Take these-"

"Echo, i'm fine-"

"You are not, and I am in no mood, to argue with you mister. Take your medicine."

"Echo." Freddie huffed a soft laugh, sitting up in the chair as an ache began to build from the inside out of his head. "You don't even know what I'm sick with."

"So? You clearly have a headache, and you're nauseous, and the world is spinning, so I'll bet you have a head cold or something like that, maybe a twenty-four hour bug, although I really don't know how you caught it, we're pretty good about health here, unless Cordelia had it, but I really don't think-"

"Echo-" Freddie huffed another breathless laugh, one that sent a layer of pressure right to his skull, "I didn't even tell you how I was feeling-"

"You didn't have too." Echo waved him away, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for her to be able to just read someone like that. Like a character from a book. She placed the water in his hands, slightly chilled, and held out the pills. "I noticed, Freddie."

Oh.

She'd noticed how he'd been feeling, and had cared. He hadn't even said anything to her, Echo had just noticed.

"But, how -"

"Freddie." Her voice came off almost incredulously, paired with that grounding laugh that seemed to settle the building pressure in his head. "I've lived hundreds of lives, made thousands of friends, I know when someone is feeling sick." Her voice was bright, happy for a moment, then it softened, and she took his hand, clasping it in both of hers. "You're my friend, Freddie, I know when you aren't acting like yourself. Of course, I noticed."

Oh no.

Freddie didn't like this. Not one bit, because suddenly his throat felt a little clogged, and his heart heavy, and he just kind of wanted to melt in this chair, and never, ever, come back. He absolutely would not cry right now. Not here. Not while he was sick. But most importantly, not, in front of Echo.

Not because she would judge him, because Echo would never, but because she would understand. He hated crying, it was stupid, and a little pathetic, not for other people, but for him. Which was a backwards thought process, he knew that much, but it was his thought process nonetheless. He couldn't cry in front of Echo, because she would be so Echo about it. She would sit, and listen, and soothe, and brush his hair with her hands, and tell him that everything will work out in the end, and a part of him did want it.

But the other part of him, the logical part, couldn't bring himself to do it. The part that told him it was just a side-effect from being sick. That if he cried in front of Echo about this, she might see him in just a slightly different light. The part that told him he'll feel better in the morning, once his body had fully recuperated.

So Freddie didn't cry, as much as he might have wanted to.

Instead, he stared at the hands clasping his, feeling the pair of eyes set on him, searching his face for something, before she only squeezed it gently, letting her hands fall away. "I'm going to go make you something warm, alright?"

"Oh, you really don't have to Echo, I'll be-"

She held up a finger, wagging it in his face, "Oh no, I will not be having any of that." Promptly, she crossed her arms over her chest, and clearly determined, she declared, "I am going to make you something warm, and delicious, and wonderful - and I am going to bring it. Now, you don't have to eat it, but you will be eating something, young man, because you can't have medicine on an empty stomach."

Despite his protest, Echo did have a point. It really wasn't healthy to take medication on an empty stomach, so he held up his hands, and relented. Something that Echo absolutely beamed at, then kissed his cheek, and skipped out the door as if Freddie had just given her the entire world.

She probably made such a good mother.

He wasn't sure how many of the others knew Echo's story. The full one, anyway. It had been a brief conversation, and clearly a painful one, when it had happened. His thoughts drifted, spiraling down into a sleepy darkness, the call of the nightscape beckoning him with open arms, and in a rapid motion, he fell down the well of dreams and into the dark.

 Freddie woke up, to the smell of something warm. A weird kind of description to be sure, but he felt too dazed to really focus on what was happening. Blinking his eyes open, and hearing the very familiar muttering of his one and only best friend in the kitchen, fiddling away with something no doubt, he turned his head to the side. A bowl of tomato soup, still steaming, with a saucer next to it, and two perfectly sliced, diagonal of course, grilled sandwiches.

He really couldn't keep the sleepy smile off of his face, even if he wanted to. How had Echo known?

Echo always knows.

His grandfather, always the caretaker, had made tomato soup, and grilled cheese sandwiches when he was feeling under the weather. It had been a special little thing between them, and the old man had sworn up and down it was a magical remedy to everything and anything.

Freddie still felt dizzy, but much less so now, so he pushed himself up in the chair, reaching arms to stretch from the sleep he'd gotten. A content hum made its way out of his mouth as he settled into the chair, distantly realizing a blanket had been tucked over him. To the thanks of Echo, no doubt.

Before he could even pick up the soup, however, there was a quiet knock on the door. The sounds in the kitchen quieted, before Echo proclaimed, rather loudly, "I'll get it!"

As if somehow, Freddie could make it to the door without falling over. Freddie laughed a little, at his own internal joke, before watching Echo glide across the ground, expertly avoiding any loose plants as if she'd lived here her entire life. Reaching the door with a clearly proud smile on her face, she threw it open, to reveal yet another one of their friends.

Amir Kibe. Just standing there. With a bouquet of what looked to be freshly picked roses, and one of the prettiest, warmest smiles that Freddie had ever seen.

Oh god. I'm sick, I'm so sick, that's what this is.

Freddie felt nauseous again, but pushing internal panic aside, he watched Echo's eyes light up. "Oh! Amir! Perfect, you're here, I need you to watch Freddie-"

"I'm not a child, Echo."

His worlds were gleefully ignored, and she pressed onward like they'd never been spoken in the first place. "-while I go check on the bread I'm making at the main house, Joon is there, but I'm worried he'll get distracted by himself in the mirror again." She giggled, and the sound sparkled across the room, "So you stay here and make sure that Freddie eats, i'll be back soon!"

Amir chuckled, shaking his head, "Don't worry Echo, go make sure Joon hasn't ruined the bread, I like Freddie's company."

"I know, isn't it fantastic?" Echo laughed again, but it was warm. Affectionate. Although a moment later she turned, waving with a brief smile, "I'll be back with fresh bread Freddie! I love you! Bye!" Then off she went, narrowly missing wacking her broken wing on the doorframe of the house.

Amir bit back a wince, before turning his attention to Freddie, "How are you feeling? Better, right?" He closed the door swiftly, walking towards one of the vases that held now dead flowers, moving to replace them with all the grace in the world. "I saw Echo after my session with Cue, this morning, making soup with Joon, and she said it was for you, so I thought-" he paused, as if realizing something in his own head, before shaking it, a sheepish grin coming over his face. "Lost my train of thought, sorry - no, so I thought you might like something nice to look at."

Freddie buried a laugh, taking a sip of the tomato soup, something that almost immediately lifted his mood. Perfect flavoring, perfect temperature, perfect everything. Sinking into the cushion of his chair, he let out another absent hum. "How was Cue, this morning then."

"God, I think he's out to kill me, you know that?"

Freddie laughed again, "I don't think he's so bad."

"You haven't had him talk to you about rejection." Amir's scowl was half-hearted, and after assuring the flowers weren't going anywhere at all, he sat in the neighboring chair, next to him. "No, he's not so bad, I think he does know what he's doing, at least a little bit."

"Well I'd hope so." Freddie took another content sip of tomato soup, smiling down at the bowl slightly, before speaking again. "Amir?"

"Yeah?"

"I enjoy your company too."

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

ophelia !!

eighth chapter done !

two chapters today ! cause 
i've got a little more free
time, and some nice ideas !

I hope you had the best
day , all of you <3

now a small question
bc you already did
a long one today !

[ what is your character's favorite color ? do they have a reason ?]

answers ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥