Aza Iriq Lynel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
steppechild) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
museboxofmuses2020-01-31 03:19 pm
steppechild) wrote in museboxofmuses2020-01-31 03:19 pm
Mafia AU
Winter had sunk its claws deep into Kugane, a thick layer of snow blanketing the port city and making its streets and various footpaths dangerously icy and slick. When the sun rose on this frozen picture, the Black Widow's compound buzzed with activity, frantically stirring the central furnace into activity, shutting all the windows and doors to keep the warmth in and the howling, cutting wind out - and, of course, the poor low levelled grunts, out in the thick snow with shovels and grit, trying to make the compound's outside paths less likely to send someone skidding to either a broken neck or a sprained ankle.
It was well known that the Black Widow's mood was foulest on such cold, snowy days. His physical disabilities were not a secret amongst his clan, and it was even less of a secret that the chill bit deep into his joints and legs, paining him deeply. It was common practice for everyone, except Bluebird, to keep their distance, to tread on eggshells and out of his warpath, lest they ended up being a verbal punching bag for him to vent on. Not that this was difficult, as the Black Widow tended to spend the entire day in bed on cold days, sulking.
This winter, however, was the first time Lo'kha was here.
This morning, therefore, started a little differently than it usually did.
Aza woke up to the noise of frozen wind howling at his window - a sharp draft was seeping through, and he grunted quietly, unconsciously curling closer to the warm body next to his, his stuffed toy Porkchop (a very fluffy and soft bear that was Aza's favourite to hug in his sleep) squashed between them both. A sharp, throbbing ache was radiating from his knees, creeping up his thighs and sitting somewhere in his hips, ruthlessly dragging him further from drowsiness into disgruntled wakefulness. It was cold. Too cold.
Aza frowned, shuffling even closer to Lo'kha slumbering next to him, stiffly stretching his sore, aching legs out to tangle them in Lo'kha's, pressing his cold feet against his calves in an effort to warm them up.
It was well known that the Black Widow's mood was foulest on such cold, snowy days. His physical disabilities were not a secret amongst his clan, and it was even less of a secret that the chill bit deep into his joints and legs, paining him deeply. It was common practice for everyone, except Bluebird, to keep their distance, to tread on eggshells and out of his warpath, lest they ended up being a verbal punching bag for him to vent on. Not that this was difficult, as the Black Widow tended to spend the entire day in bed on cold days, sulking.
This winter, however, was the first time Lo'kha was here.
This morning, therefore, started a little differently than it usually did.
Aza woke up to the noise of frozen wind howling at his window - a sharp draft was seeping through, and he grunted quietly, unconsciously curling closer to the warm body next to his, his stuffed toy Porkchop (a very fluffy and soft bear that was Aza's favourite to hug in his sleep) squashed between them both. A sharp, throbbing ache was radiating from his knees, creeping up his thighs and sitting somewhere in his hips, ruthlessly dragging him further from drowsiness into disgruntled wakefulness. It was cold. Too cold.
Aza frowned, shuffling even closer to Lo'kha slumbering next to him, stiffly stretching his sore, aching legs out to tangle them in Lo'kha's, pressing his cold feet against his calves in an effort to warm them up.