Title: lighted by a perfect fire (but I will trust the artist moulding me)
Summary:
"New situations are not easy for Hunter, and being stranded with his friends in a whole new world has him feeling way out of his depth. Used to being in constant survival mode, it's hard to adjust to being in a safe environment. With safety comes a tidal wave of feelings once ignored. And, as always, he is afraid.
Camila Noceda is worried. While all of the children suddenly in her care are obviously traumatized in her own ways, the oldest of their group stands out to her. She wants to help, but will he let her?"
Rating: T for discussion of canon-typical violence, cursing, and child abuse.
A/N: Okay, first fic back on FFN after a few years of solely posting on Ao3! Let's go!
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Chapter I
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It's raining. Big fat raindrops fall from the sky. They're cool, maybe even cold. Maybe that's the reason Hunter is standing here, frozen and staring, like a useless lump of abomination goop. He watches Luz as she opens and closes the door that spat them into this world over and over.
It's raining. Big fat teardrops pour from the eyes of the youngest witch on this side of the portal. Gus is curled up on the ground, face practically in the dirt. But he doesn't even notice, too busy crying.
It's raining. Uncle–Belos—Phillip used to talk to him about the rain. His voice would get dreamy, softened by the nostalgia of it all, "In the human realm, the rain is cold. You can dance in it, let it cool your skin on a hot day. It collects in puddles on the ground that children like to stomp in."
It's raining, and Hunter is standing in it, and Phillip Wittebane is dead.
Hunter should feel something. Really, he should. But his ears are buzzing and his brain is full and, if he's being honest, he's not sure if he's feeling much of anything at all.
Gus lets out another sob, jolting Hunter out of his numb state and into action. Hunter crouches down to Gus' level. Robotically, he reaches out a gloved hand to pat his younger friend's shoulder.
"There, there?" he says, trying and failing at sounding comforting.
After a few moments, Gus' sobs peter out. He turns his face towards Hunter. His lower lip wobbles a little, but holds steady. Voice scratchy and tearful, he says, "You need to work on your people skills."
Hunter feels himself smile, a pathetic little thing.
"I know."
...
The walk to Luz's mom's house is silent save for Gus' slight sniffles. Not even Luz, chatterbox that she is, tries to breach it. By the time they get to the little house, they're all soaked and shivering from the rain.
Luz hesitates before she knocks, taking a deep breath.
"Hey Mom. I'm back!" Luz says to the woman who opens the door, her voice full of an unidentifiable emotion.
The woman at the door gasps, tears filling her eyes. Luz melts into her mother's embrace, clearly holding back tears herself. It's an intimate moment. Hunter looks away.
"Luz, corazón, what happened to you? Oh, bebé, your face…" she brushes her hand against Luz's forehead, tracing the open wound. Hunter marvels at the way Luz leans into her touch. What would it be like, he wonders, to trust someone so fully? It feels unimaginable.
"I'll tell you later, Mamí," Luz promises, "First, can we come inside? My friends–"
Luz's mother gasps again, eyes drawn to the rest of them, "Oh of course, you all must be freezing! Come in, come in. Vee, can you bring some towels from upstairs?"
A girl who looks nearly identical to Luz hovers in the doorway. She startles when addressed, then nods, disappearing up the stairs next to the kitchen doorway.
"Thank you for having us, Mrs. Noceda," Amity says politely, with a slight bow. She would look just like the Boiling Isles nobility she is if not for the soaking wet hair sticking to the sides of her face and light shivering.
Mrs. Noceda smiles wanly, "Please, call me Camila."
Mrs. Camila turns her head towards the kitchen, "Give me one moment, the rice needs to be taken off the burner. Thank goodness I used the crock pot tonight, we may not even have leftovers…" she murmurs the last bit to herself.
Hunter shuffles from foot to foot for a moment once she leaves the room. It is unseemly to fidget in the presence of adults, he knows. But his legs are sore from battle and shaky with fatigue. He almost wishes that he could kneel like before, but that is only for–he doesn't do that anymore.
He takes a few deep breaths to calm the tightness in his chest–in for four, out for four–and hopes no one notices the tension holding his muscles taut.
When Mrs. Camila comes back into the room, it's with a large white box that has a red cross on it.
"It's a first-aid kit," Luz says at her friends' curious looks.
Luz's look-alike comes down at the same time. With slightly shaking hands, she passes out the towels. The one Hunter gets is soft, white, and extremely fluffy, and he stiffens slightly when he realizes that he'll probably get stains on it.
Mrs. Camila puts the box down on the small table next to the sofa, opening it to reveal packaged medical supplies. "Who is the most injured?" she asks, voice firm and clinical.
"That would be Hunter, ma'am." Willow says, pointing to him. Everyone nods in agreement.
Hunter freezes when Mrs. Camila's gaze locks onto him. Her eyes are soft and kind, but he can't help but bristle at the attention.
"Hunter, was it?" she asks, voice gentle, like she's talking to an injured animal and not some wreck of a thing that Hunter is, "Where are you injured?"
"His arm, Mrs. Noc—Camila," Willow asserts when Hunter doesn't respond. Hunter shoots her a deadly glare.
Mrs. Camila reaches a hand out towards him. It's an innocent gesture, but, scared as he is, Hunter can't help the flinch.
She pauses, "I just need to look at your arm. Is that okay?" she asks.
Hunter stares at her hand.
"I'm okay, ma'am," he finally says, "It's just bruised."
He lifts his sleeve up to show her from afar. The bruises are oddly shaped and livid against his pale skin, but they're just bruises. He doesn't tell her about the way his arm aches deep underneath the skin, to the bone, up through his shoulder.
She hums, "Okay. Is there anything else that you need treated?" she asks.
"Nothing that I can't do myself." he replies, allowing himself to relax a bit now that she's not trying to touch him.
Mrs. Camila smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes. If anything, she looks impossibly sad.
"I'll leave you to it, then."
"Okay, so who's next?"
...
If there's anything that Hunter knows about Camila Noceda, and there isn't much, it's that she knows when to step lightly. He'd expected her to demand answers from them immediately, about why they were here, about what happened to them, about where they'd come from. But, after giving them blankets and large portions of "rice" with "chili con carne", she had simply told them to get some sleep, and that they could talk more in the morning.
Hunter isn't sure he'll be able to sleep for a few days unless he gets knocked out. He normally likes to sleep on his side, back against the wall, but the arm he usually sleeps on bears his sigil and hurts more than it ever has, even after the multiple times he's broken it. And even if he ignores the pain, there's still the promise of nightmares. They haven't stopped since the day he went into Belos' mind, and they'll likely be even worse tonight.
Luz puts a "car-toon" on the "Tee-Vee", volume on ten percent, stating that she used to fall asleep to this one as a child in her Mamá's lap. And it is surprisingly effective. Amity drops off first, clearly tired and upset from the day but comforted by Luz's hand running through her purple locks. Soft purrs fill the room, making the atmosphere feel a bit more familiar. Gus is next. His sniffles stopped hours ago, but he must still be congested, Hunter thinks, because he snores pretty loudly for his size. Vee is next to fall fully asleep, having already been dozing long before the rest with the first-aid kit in her arms despite her nervous disposition. Willow tries valiantly to stay conscious, eyes glancing between the still awake Luz and Hunter in worry, but sleep eventually takes her as well.
That leaves the two of them. Hunter doesn't say anything. Talking right now sounds exhausting, and he doesn't particularly want anyone else to know he's still awake. Luz doesn't say anything either–her eyes are transfixed on the show, but it's obvious she isn't taking it in.
And there they sit. Eventually, the cartoon turns into some strange advertisement, so Luz turns it off. Thirty minutes later, her own snores meld into the various sounds in the room.
Hunter stays up until the light shines through the windows. Then, he pretends. It's just like playing dead.
He's good at that.
~.~
Notes:
Okay, hi! So I've been brainrotting over Hunter's realistic trauma responses since Hollow Mind but it's just been getting worse and worse every day, ultimately culminating in this little series that I'm writing about the Hexsquad in the human realm. I haven't felt this passionate about writing something in MONTHS, hence the lack of posts, so I am very excited to share this with you all! Please let me know what you think.
PS: Title from "Creature" by half•alive. Listen to it!
-astrovagant