Hiding Out [for fever_crusade]

[dovelike]

It doesn't take too long for Eirene to get from her apartment to the Kent farm, not even after taking time out to pack a duffel of things she doesn't want to lose; in case her brother comes back and decides to break things because she's not there to endure another fight. Not for the first time, she thinks it's sad that the lives of immortals really do mirror their mortal counterparts.

Not even a deity is exempt from familial abuse, and she's an easier target than most because she can't fight back. Jaw and face still aching from Ares' fist, she blurs to the farmhouse's front door and knocks nervously.

"Martha?"

Comments

[fever-crusade.livejournal.com]

Martha frowns, turning her look at her with surprise plain in her widened eyes. "Let all what out?"

[eirenikos]

Breathe in, breathe out, and now she can speak without nausea. "I'm empathic and it's impossible to lie about feelings to me. Please don't feel you have to hide anything. Let even just a little bit of that go, because I don't want anything to happen to you. Okay?"

Physical pain she can endure stoically. Emotions? Not so much. It's, for lack of a more appropriate term, one of her Achilles' heels.

[fever-crusade.livejournal.com]

She stares at Eirene incredulously for a moment, then turns her head and looks down at her lap. "It's better that I don't talk about it. It's indicative of the kind of person I don't want to be."

[eirenikos]

Gently, "Then don't talk out loud. But you need to let go of some of that, and I can help. Will you take my hand and allow me the honor of doing so?"

[fever-crusade.livejournal.com]

A bit warily, Martha gives her her hand. "All right..."

[eirenikos]

Eirene places her slightly smaller one around it, and breathes out slowly. What Martha should be feeling, providing things so smoothly, is a subtle sense of peace working away at some of the tension she's been holding inside of her for years.

It won't erase all the memories, and it isn't an instant quick-fix, but the goddess should be able to blunt the pain to a level that doesn't control everything else.

And, yes, Martha, those are tears.

[fever-crusade.livejournal.com]

Martha doesn't know what to say, and for awhile, she doesn't say anything at all, just leans back against the couch, staring blankly ahead.

Then she exhales. "Well."