Family Friction
Makkari’s eyes burned as she woke. She couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep – the sun was still streaming through her windows, and she had passed out as it rose. It was late summer in Egypt, the room must have been warm, but she couldn’t feel it. Her hangovers always left her freezing, and her head pounded like a bass drum.
The night before had been the end of the Tekh festival, or the festival of drunkenness. She hadn’t participated in these as often in Babylon, but Egyptian beer was fantastic; rich, sweet, and with far higher alcohol concentrations. Her advanced metabolism made it practically impossible for her to get even buzzed, at least without high concentration and large quantities. Unfortunately, when she did get drunk, it didn’t prevent the hangover.
Makkari stretched, yawning, and it took her a second to realize she wasn’t alone. A woman was lying next to her, gorgeous, with short hair and smudged kohl. Makkari suddenly remembered her from the night before; she was one of the priestesses of Hathor. She must have come home with her after the ceremony. Fortunately, Makkari wasn’t going to have to worry about waking her; the poor girl was so out she looked half dead.
Shakily, Makkari got up, checking her reflection in a bronze mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and the skin under them looked almost bruised from lack of sleep. That was rare – any of the Eternals could go days without sleep if they needed to. The problem was, she had. These celebrations could go on for over a week, and except last night, she had spent most of this one awake and sober, making sure Sprite didn’t kill anyone. The childlike body meant Sprite had almost no tolerance for alcohol, and the substance tended to bring out her buried anger in unpredictable ways. Last year, after an –admittedly tasteless– pedophilia joke, she almost took a knife to an equally inebriated Kingo.
Finding something long-sleeved, Makkari put it on and headed downstairs. An unusual sight greeted her. Gilgamesh was making food, and half the team was awake, sitting around the room in various stages of relaxation. Phastos and Thena sat on a flat couch, feet up, apparently asleep, and Sprite had entirely lain out on the couch next to them. Even Ikaris seemed less tense than usual; he sat on the floor, leaning against Sprite’s substitute bed.
Druig was also on the floor, lying on his back with closed eyes and a mug balanced on his stomach. He sat up when she entered, blinking as he nodded to her. “Morning,” he signed.
Sitting down next to him, Makkari crossed her knees and leaned against Thena’s outstretched legs. “Morning, I guess. This is weird. Why are we all not being solitary goblins?”
Ikaris cut in to respond. “Apparently Gilgamesh can cure headaches now.”
Makkari’s eyes went wide, and she flipped Druig off as he tried not to smile. “What??? With what?”
Ikaris gestured towards Druig’s mug. “With that.”
Makkari immediately dove for the cup, but Druig put it in his other hand and leaned away, laughing. “What, ten seconds ago you’re telling me to fuck off, and now you want me to share?”
Gilgamesh said something from across the room, and Makkari looked at Druig. “He said to stop fighting, or he won’t give us food,” he repeated.
Sprite sat up, glaring at them. “Fucking hell, my head hurts enough. Can you all shut up?”
Makkari looked back, torn between sympathy, irritation, and laughing. Sprite looked terrible – orange hair sticking straight up, giant under-eye bags. Makkari didn’t really have the strength to be nice to her right now, however; she decided on the response that seemed the least unnecesarily cruel. “No.”
Druig glanced at Makkari’s carefully neutral face before chiming in. “You realize you look like a dried-out sponge, right?”
Looking ready to commit homicide, Sprite started to get up, but froze when Ikaris put his hand on her shin. “It’s not worth it, Sprite. Ignore him.”
Sprite stared at his hand for a second before sighing and flopping onto her back again. Druig took a sip from his cup while Makkari stared at him.
“That seemed completely necessary.”
Druig set down his mug and signed instead of speaking, so as not to draw Sprite’s attention. “She was being a dick.”
“Yes, insulting her definitely helped. What even was that?”
Druig’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m tired and hungover too, remember? Maybe I’m just an asshole.”
Makkari leaned back onto Thena’s legs. “You definitely are an asshole, but not usually arbitrarily.”
Ikaris cut in, but he spoke instead of signing. “Not arbitrarily? That’s giving him a lot of unearned credit, Kari.”
“Kari? Since when do you call her that?” Sprite asked, noticing their conversation. Makkari silently cursed Ikaris’ decision to speak audibly. “Also, what do you mean arbitrarily?”
“Nothing, Sprite,” Makkari responded. She was starting to be really irritated – it was harder to control her emotions when she was this exhausted. “And what do you mean? Everyone calls me that.”
“I don’t call her that,” Gilgamesh interrupted. He had just returned, bearing a tray of cups filled with whatever greenish liquid Druig had.
Thena and Phastos both immediately reached for the tray, reviving so fast you would have thought Gilgamesh was carrying diamonds. Makkari grabbed one as well, and she and Thena followed Gilgamesh back to his oven, leaving their family to carry on bickering. “Thanks, ” she signed. “What are you cooking?”
“Bread,” he responded. “There’s fruit over there if you’re hungry now.” Gilgamesh gestured to a nearby shelf as he spoke.
Makkari took a fig off the shelf. “Thanks, Gilgamesh.” Gilgamesh had been kneading dough, but he glanced up as her hands moved. She hesitated before continuing; “How do you put up with all of us?”
He started rolling the dough into a flat rectangle. “You’re not so bad to put up with. And the rest of them – we’re all just trying to deal with it.”
“Deal with what?”
“What do you think, darling? This life we were all forced into.” Thena’s voice was surprisingly relaxed. She had summoned a short knife and started chopping vegetables – the two of them were so in sync, it made Makkari’s heart ache.
“Forced? That’s...” she trailed off, thinking of Olympia. Didn’t they choose this? It was so far away, it almost didn’t feel like it sometimes. “I don’t know.”
She drained her cup of green juice. It was surprisingly good, although she knew better than to ask what was in it. The floor behind her was vibrating with measured, familiar steps.
Makkari turned around as Druig approached, stopping about five feet away. “Done arguing with Sprite?”
“Yes,” he responded, setting down his empty mug. “Sorry I made you run away.”
She sighed, leaning up against the table. “I would have anyway.”
Druig stepped closer and picked up a fig from the shelf, surveying her. Makkari was too tired to be self-conscious. He spoke up, words moving rather quickly. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
“What do you mean?” Perhaps unsurprisingly, no one had ever asked Makkari to go on a ‘walk.’ She wasn’t entirely sure what the point of one was.
“You know, go down by the river and walk around for a bit. To get out of the house.”
Makkari hesitated, considering this. On one side, this would get her out of a tension-filled house, and possibly the priestess girl would be gone before she got back. Anyone even vaguely religious tended to be extremely uncomfortable around her after realizing they just had sex with what was technically a canonical god. Also, Druig’s eyes were on her again, and he was clearly pretending not to be nervous, and this felt like an olive branch. On the other side, her whole body still ached. Also, if they were in the middle of a walk, it would be a lot harder to zoom off in half of a second if things got as strangely tense as they were apt to with him.
Makkari looked down, twisting the golden ring on her hand. Druig refused to tell her what he’d traded for it – he’d given it to her on the night of the summer solstice. “Don’t worry about it,” he’d signed. “I just wanted to see you in it.” She found herself playing with it more and more; it made her feel sort of seen. He seemed to know her taste as well as she did; this ring, especially. It almost felt like a missing piece of her he’d simply returned. He was looking at her. She felt Ajak enter the room behind her, and her mind was finally made. Why was she even thinking about this? What sounded better, wandering around the gorgeous river vegetation with Druig or staying, for what would probably end as a proto-family meeting?
“Okay, right after this drink.”
Ikaris got up to leave, but paused in the doorway next to Ajak.
“Good morning, Ikaris,” she said softly. “How’s everything going?”
Clearly, Ikaris’ poker face was not as good as he’d thought. She always seemed to know when there was something on his mind. “Great, for me, at least. Sersi is a dream.”
Ajak smiled. “I’m glad. The two of you are so focused. You both deserve something good.”
Ikaris hesitated at her words, glancing over to where Druig and Makkari stood, giggling. They seemed to be back on good terms. Druig signed something he couldn't see, and she doubled over with laughter, supporting herself with a hand on his chest.
“I’m worried about them,” he said quietly.
He glanced over at Ajak. She was looking at them as well, but there was a fond smile on her face. “Why?” She glanced back up, seeming genuinely confused.
He paused, trying to find the right way to phrase it. “Well, it’s just what you said. They’re not very... focused, even when they’re apart.” He wanted them to be happy. They were his family; he loved them. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried – they weren’t the kind of match that would improve each other. Druig was too arrogant and cynical, and Makkari had a tendency to take matters into her own hands. The Eternals had a purpose, and the two of them weren’t going to help each other towards it. They were going to drive each other away from it.
Ajak stared at him for a moment, and then looked back at Makkari. His words seemed to trouble her; he wondered if she hadn’t thought about this before. She wasn’t the type to want to overthink the things that made her family happy.
“Ikaris,” she began, “I’m glad they are getting closer. Do you not think they will be happy?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if they will, Ajak. I just... do you really think they will be a good match? Neither of them seem to prioritize the team as it is. Won’t...” He looked down, sighing. “Won’t Druig pull her further away? Makkari's already so reclusive.”
Ajak nodded as he spoke; she seemed to understand now. “They’ll be an excellent match, just as they always are. They always end up close – occasionally not romantic, but always together.” She smiled, watching as Makkari pulled Druig out of the room. Looking back at him, she continued. “It’s not a crime to have questions, Ikaris. You'll see, eventually; this is nothing to worry about. It's really a joy, watching the way they fall into each other.”
He bowed his head in response. She hadn’t quelled his worries; it surprised him how much she seemed to support this. He wouldn’t fight her, and of course, he wouldn't fight them. It wasn't his place to interfere. He worried about what would happen when Tiamut awoke, however. Even he'd learned when he joined with Sersi - it was so easy to lose sight of Arishem's purpose.