Thena and Gil are filming a movie with Eros this time. Eros still doesn’t like Gil and finds a perfect time to take revenge! Gil and Eros have a fighting scene and Eros takes the chance to “accidentally“ hit Gil really hard at his temple causing him to loose consciousness for a few seconds. When Gil regains consciousness again he is really angry at Eros and his reckless behavior but lucky for our snob Thena is here to hold Gil back before it could escalate😈
"And...action!"
It was pretty basic choreography. Blow for blow, it was Gil vs. Eros. Not that everyone thought a fist fight between the two of them would necessarily translate the right way on screen. But Gil's character had thus far sustained a few injuries, he was at the end of several other fights he had faced.
Eros didn't really appreciate being told that he didn't seem like he would be able to fight Gil realistically, but that was beside the point.
Gil swung a few times, Eros managing to dodge and deflect them. There were a few hits that would be faked for the camera, but they had both practised how to make them look as believable as possible.
They had promos and interview to do! They couldn't go damaging the goods.
"Easy, old man," Eros taunted as he leaned out of another punch. "Don't want to pull your back!"
Gil was 'panting', some fake blood already applied to his arms and some bruising and scratches just faint enough to be a nice subtle touch. He huffed, "don't push your luck, kid."
Eros cracked his knuckles, the large signet ring on his pinkie indicating the allegiance of his character. He pulled back his fist and wound up.
The sound of the ring meeting Gil's head was deafening.
"Gil!" Thena sprang up from the side of the sound stage. Under any other circumstance she would never display such unprofessional behaviour. But she leapt from her chair.
Gilgamesh swayed a little, completely dizzied by the punch. He touched his temple where it landed, where there was a sizable welt growing, as well as blood that was not special effects. "Shit."
"Cut!"
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Thena rushed onto stage, pushing grips and gaffers alike out of her way. She leaned close to Gil, who swayed right into her. "Are you okay?"
He grunted, but his attempts to stand upright didn't go as planned.
"Gil, mate, I'm so sorry, are you all right?"
Thena would glare at him if she weren't supporting most of Gil's weight as much as she possibly could. "Gil, it's okay, just sit down."
"I'm fine," he groaned, obviously not fine.
"Gil," Thena tried again to calm him, running her fingers through his hair.
He put his hand on her back, but he pulled his head up from her shoulder, glaring at Eros behind her, "what the fuck?"
"I really am sorry," Eros professed, putting his hand to his heart and everything. "Honestly, I didn't-"
"I took the time to work on this shit with you," Gil huffed at him, squinting with the eye closest to where he got hit, "just for you to wide swing and hit me in the face?"
"Gil," Eros held his hands out, taking a step back as Gil took an even more aggravated step forward.
"Gil," Thena said gently, pushing against his chest. "I know, but I need you to sit down right now."
Gil swayed a few more times, flush with adrenaline. "You get away with a lot of shit, man, but this-"
"Gil," she repeated, still working on trying to get him to sit down and take a breath. "Hey, look at me."
Gil moved his squinted eye from the man he wanted to punch right with the face. He looked at Thena, who was still somewhat holding him up. "Thena, I'm okay."
"You're not," she shook her head, tipping his chin at her. "You are almost certainly concussed, and that's nothing to say of the black eye you're going to have."
Gil did sigh faintly as Thena's soft skinned and cool fingers touched his temple. "This sucks, though--we have to get this scene shot."
"Not with an injury like this," Thena broke the news to him, even making a face as she watched the swelling on his face begin to protrude.
"Thena-"
"I think Thena's right, mate," Eros added, which the entirety of the room could have told him was a stupid choice.
Gil made one more feint of a lunge at him, spooking Eros just for the fun of it. He chuckled, letting Thena press her hand to his chest to keep him in place. Although she didn't remove it afterward either, so really she just had her hand over his heart.
Thena put her (other) hand on Gil's cheek, "we're done for the day."
The director inched forward from the shadows, "uh, we?"
"Come on," she coaxed him back to his chair at first, leading him with her hand on his peck and letting him lean on her.
Gil peeked out from the crook of Thena's neck at Eros behind them. He couldn't wink with his bad eye, but he couldn't resist smirking a little as he nestled back into Thena's hair and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"You poor thing," Thena whispered, running her hand over his cheek as she helped him sit.
"Thena, you know you can't really take the day off, right?"
"What about him?" Gil sighed as she gave him a sip of her water, and then pressed the bottle to his temple.
Thena didn't even look over at Eros, still hovering around nervously at the edges of things. "Don't worry about him. We're going to get you checked out and then we'll head home."
Maybe he usually wouldn't, but Gil nuzzled in more, his head on Thena's shoulder, letting her run her fingers through his hair. If he could purr, he would.
If he couldn't actually hit Eros back, this would have to do.
11 notes
·
View notes
Timeloop au snippet
A scarce half hour later, Lucien’s morning had wrapped right around itself to the same exact problem.
Again, between the abject falsehood of Nesta’s fragile mortal body, and Tamlin, right on the edge of something ruinous.
He was staring at the blood on her hands.
Not all faeries bled red- even to the human eye there was a distinction in shades. Some fae, born of just enough Spring in them, bled like tree sap, gleaming sticky gold. Thin. Dripping from the white strain of Nesta’s knuckles, a sort of uneasy mixed pink of muddled High Fae heritage.
“What,” Tamlin snapped, cold, cold, and faraway, “In the name of all your damned mortal gods, do you think you’re doing?”
The game was already up.
The game was just beginning, another life, another moment, Nesta’s beautiful face set in a truth she could not entirely act away.
Lucien’s heart might have given out, in sheer unremitting fondness.
If he wasn’t sick on the grass first.
“You promised,” Nesta’s human voice still cut, but she was trying, almost making it, to something softer. Quieter. “You promised. Faeries cannot break their vows, even I know that.”
“Tam,” Lucien tried, nausea filling his throat.
“You said,” Nesta continued, like he hadn’t spoken at all, “No one would harm him. No harm. How are any of us to survive what it so come if we are not even safe from- from”-
Finally, belatedly, Tamlin looked from the wet brick in her hand, yanked from an ancient folly wall, to the crumbled, caved in, blue figure between them.
29 notes
·
View notes