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Poseidon's fury
The room was trashed. Tony was going to be pissed. In the middle of the chaos of thrown furniture, smashed glasses, and shredded curtains stood a shard of black. Elias flexed his fists to balls, breath heavy, eyes scrunched to sightlessness.
“ARGWW!” He roared and literally kicked a throw pillow left on the floor. It smashed to the wall in a fluff, adding to the mess.

“This is a waste of time!” he yelled at nothing. The excursions down the river were absolutely worthless. They found no signal. The creature no longer attacked. He was made to be a fool in front of everyone. Including…

“Asha?” He turned at the rustle of someone entering. Probably climbing over the mess. Maybe it was Tony coming to yell at him? Nah, that guy was sure to keel over from a heart attack next time he raised his voice.
Her palms squeezed. Anger and frustration buffeted through like a storm, tightening her chest with misery. Asha was not naturally given to such violent emotion, and the assault pounded her heart and left her breathless. Generally speaking Tony’s place was inoffensive -- easy to cope with, anyway -- and she still had Aria’s apartment to return to when she needed a refuge. Lately El’s bitterness over their continued failure was like a constant fog; something she would seek to escape from, usually. Had it been anyone else she would have. With him, though, she was afraid to let him drift too far into that tide, torn between wanting to sooth and the need for self-survival.

She fought her way to the source, like a flag ripped by wind, trying not to let the leaked emotion shadow her expression with the same. This time he was yelling. Her hands clenched tighter, trying to channel away the fury. The room was an utter ruin. She shifted her way through the debris of broken furniture until he turned, and with the question of her name the smallest dip in the blast of his emotion came with the promised balm of relief. She almost stumbled, half-smiled, and propelled herself into him. Her arms wrapped. It would make him unbearably strong to her senses but she was also certain it would quell the roughness of his anger to calmer seas, knowing how considerate he was of her abilities. Her eyes clenched tight against the flat of his chest. Something else fluttered outward, unnoticed by Asha herself. Calmdowncalmdowncalmdown.
Sighting Asha washed a trickle of shame, but the lock of his jaw remained tight. The power continued to pulse, but the currents dissipated. She washed upon him like a tide, and the next thing he knew, he was holding this delicate creature close. Only a growl labored from his lips. Her breathing rolled steady rhythm, and Asha's mere presence seemed to erode what fury had previously flooded all senses. 

"What am I going to do, Asha?" He asked. 

He wouldn't allow himself to admit defeat. Not yet. He pat her on the back of her head, she was trembling, and he felt like a true jerk for what must certainly have drowned her senses. 

"I'm sorry I did that to you," he said through grit teeth. 

Yeah. Fuck.
His sails caught a softer wind. Asha sagged against his chest, relief palpable. Waves of his anger still trembled out, washing her through with hollow weariness as it passed and began to dissipate. El cupped the back of her head in an awkward pat. Frustration still simmered, but these days that was as familiar as her own shadow. “Idon’tknow,” she mumbled into him. For a long moment she did not move, clinging on as if he were a mast in a storm. When her arms finally unwrapped there was a pink tinge to her cheeks. She brushed the hair back from her face and glanced around plaintively at the mess he had made.

The search had been fruitless. Asha herself enjoyed the fresh air and sway of the boat beneath her feet as they trawled the river, often to be found watching the scenery pass. She avoided the captain’s company when she could, but between Tobias and El that was not hard. Sometimes she let her senses press out into the waters, curious to see if she might feel anything momentous, but she never did.

Frowning, she began an attempt at straightening the room. Asha’s habits were neat, and it was not so much condemnation of his temper as it was something to do. Her arm poked whole through the ruined curtains, and she bundled them to her chest. Perhaps she could do something with the material, but they were no good for hanging anymore. “It’s okay,” she said, and meant it. A brief smile fluttered. “Sometimes when my uncle was… away, he would come back frustrated. When the trail was difficult, sometimes we did something else for a while. A clear head helps. Putting your mind to something else for a while?”

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