SHIELD found Clint on the other end of a bad fight in an Indian wasteland, dousing the wounds from canine claws with holy water. He had pulled his arrows out of the pack's bodies already and laid them out across the earth before him to be cleaned. They glistened with water and blood.
Agent Phil Coulson's eyes widened slightly as he looked down the row, then finally met Clint's bland look.
"It's an old weapon," Coulson finally said, mildly.
Clint shrugged. "Old legends."
He doesn't believe the old myths were all false, or the solutions buried inside of them would not work so well. Clint makes the water the way it's been done for centuries: with dust to curse, with extinguished fire to purify, and with sincere prayers to bless. He pours it on his wounds, he drinks it in place of ordinary water, and he dips his arrows and his wards in its protection.
FIC: The Roads Between (M, canon-typical violence)
Agent Phil Coulson's eyes widened slightly as he looked down the row, then finally met Clint's bland look.
"It's an old weapon," Coulson finally said, mildly.
Clint shrugged. "Old legends."
He doesn't believe the old myths were all false, or the solutions buried inside of them would not work so well. Clint makes the water the way it's been done for centuries: with dust to curse, with extinguished fire to purify, and with sincere prayers to bless. He pours it on his wounds, he drinks it in place of ordinary water, and he dips his arrows and his wards in its protection.
He's still human, isn't he?
(rest on AO3)