Complications of Mortality | Druig x OC

XVI | Mask

"I'm not trying to be a god!" a female voice snapped in the distance. There was ringing in the room, rolling, reverberating sound constantly hovering over all of the other noise that snuck it's way in. It wasn't painful, but the pitch of it diffused into an uncomfortable feeling. Like a reoccurring toothache that was almost forgettable but managed to still linger at the back of your jaw.

"How ironic, since you've decided to play one."

"We owe her everything, can't you see that?" the voice was deeper than the other male's, more familiar. It ducked into a whispered scolding, "None of us even came close to Ikaris' strength," his voice broke, causing him to pause to take a hold of his words again, "but she—"

"She didn't want the immortality. She made her choice about her life when she decided to leave the shelter of the Domo—"

"She made her choice for you, you arrogant prick!" The female had raised her tone again, strong indication but traces of wavering intention peaking through every other syllable. A hush fell over the voices, an awkward sort of silence settling out in the distance. Their voices were greatly muffled, but still decipherable all the same. "She thought you were killed. You know how humans get—their emotion is their sole driving factor."

Heavy eyelashes lifted, giving way for her dark eyes to look up above where she had been laid. Akiva blinked them open, wincing ever so slightly at how bright everything was. Her eyebrows knitted together and she squinted slightly before closing them again, wanting to fall back asleep. Everything had been so easy while she was sleeping. Time passed by so quickly that her consciousness didn't even have a way to measure it.

"Y'all Romeo and Julietted up in this bitch, that's all I'm saying," Phastos joked, trying to bring some light to the argument.

Akiva tried to smile at the comment but the effort caused her to ache. A figure stirred at the edge of the room, moving into a standing position to walk towards where she had been positioned on the tabletop. They couldn't have tried to set her down in a bed at least? She wasn't synthetic like they were—she actually needed her sleep in order to regenerate. In order to fix h—her back.

Shit.

She sat up immediately, feeling the blood rush to her head.

"It's selfish," Thena volunteered her thoughts.

Akiva had to put a hand behind her to keep her from collapsing back on the cold platform again. Her hands collided with the hard surface but she didn't feel the impact. She was more focused on keeping herself from bleeding out. To make sure she didn't pull out any stitches, or rip off any bandaids—to make sure she didn't undo whatever was holding her together.

"Bloody right it's selfish," he agreed.

"You're both acting insane—insane!"

"The last time I checked, I was speaking to the Prime, Phastos."

Her hand reached to her back, barely keeping focus on the conversation in the distance. Akiva's skin was smooth. Her fingertips touched her flesh and found it suddenly void of imperfections. Where were the white spots that had broken out from laying on the roof of the Domo in the sun for too long, or...or the freckles that mimicked the stars that stretched across her shoulder and edge of her ribs?

A tanned hand grabbed her own, moving it away from herself and holding it in their grasp again.

"Ajak was our prime. She would have saved the human after such a sacrifice," Sersi ordered, voice smoothed out completely.

Akiva closed her fist, only kept cracked open by the fragile grasp that placed itself in her palm. Her hand had been bandaged, wrapping weaving in between each of her fingers and over her knuckles. It had even stretched down to loop over and around her wrist, keeping all of the bones in place. Her eyes darkened slightly as she looked at the bandages, confusion washing over her, "wha—"