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Lightbringer
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In all reality, it was more of a question of when wasn't Lucius doing something stupid. A mere miracle in and of itself when he didn't do something lightly idiotic, reckless or vaguely stupid. A regular Tuesday when he was just straight up not even bothering to care if what he was doing was or wasn't stupid to begin with. Not that he cared. Lucius settled back into the seat as the bus rumbled onward. The soft grumbling of the engine whined and whirred as they puttered through the city. Through the downtown, brushed the edges of the suburbs and slid toward the airport to collect or drop off anyone else. Then, with the same puttering engine, headed back to the rest of the city. The soft blue skies held the tinged note of soft clouds that had once been part of a storm. Now, it was clear skies for the time being. Lucius, for once, wasn't particularly chatty with those around him. His chin rested in the soft cup of his palm, looking upward at the sky and then toward the outside of the museum. A small sigh escaped from his lips as he stood up from his seat and hopped down out of the bus. What was bothering him so much? It was the notion that he knew exactly where Feo had gone. To drink. Where every single man went to "solve" their problems. Drinking. That's all they ever did, that was their fun, their release, their problem-solver, their crutch--life. Lucius had a particular disdain for it. After all, what wasn't... a plant in some sort of lightly dusty form or chocolate was replaced with alcohol. Moonshine, bootlegged, bought, whatever it was. Lucius couldn't stand the smell--let alone the thought of it anymore. He pushed his hand through his blond hair, pushing those thoughts out of his head as he stepped inside. The museum patron looked up in some surprise that they had a visitor at all. "Hello?" The woman questioned lightly. "Hey--hi, yeah," Lucius waved, making his way toward the front desk. "Is--is there a fee to enter or...?" The woman shook her head. "Oh wonderful," Lucius waved one hand lightly. "I am doing a research paper on old mythological artifacts--yes, yes--I got information that there could potentially be something here...?" The woman shrugged lightly and waved one hand, gesturing for him to go further in. "I wouldn't know, I just sit up here. You can find someone else around the museum, they'll probably know more." "Fantastic, thank you," Lucius said warmly, tipping his head and making his way into the softly lit, quiet interior of the museum. Something about the subtle smell of old paper, aging leather and the likes was alluring. The pull of history long since past... that was something exciting. And, better yet, he could enjoy all of it on his own time. |
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Neutral
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Feo downed the second glass more quickly than the first, the whiskey’s warmth doing little to stave off the cold dread coiling in his chest. The bartender, keeping his usual stoic demeanor, refilled the glass without a word. Feo’s movements grew slower as the alcohol took hold, dulling the sharp edges of his thoughts but never completely silencing them. - By the fourth glass, the room started to feel like it was tilting. The low murmur of conversation blended into an indistinct hum, and the radio's updates faded into background noise. Feo's mind drifted, the memory of his argument with Lucius replaying in snippets. Every harsh word felt like a lash against his already fragile composure. - Finally, the bartender slid the bottle away. "That’s enough, son," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. - Feo looked up, his bleary eyes narrowing slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he reached into his pocket, fumbling for a moment before pulling out a handful of coins. They caught the dim light of the bar as he tossed them onto the counter with a metallic clatter. The bartender's eyes widened in disbelief, but Feo was already pushing himself off the stool, his boots unsteady against the floor. - “Keep the change,” he muttered, his voice slurred but carrying a faint trace of the regal arrogance he often tried to suppress. - The bartender stared at the coins, speechless, as Feo staggered toward the door. The cooling air hit him like a slap, but it did little to clear his head. The streets were quiet, the streetlights flickering as if they couldn't decide whether it was day or night casting long, distorted shadows as he made his way back to the hotel. His movements were uneven, his footsteps echoing in the silence. - When he reached the hotel, he fumbled with the key handed both to Lucius and him earlier that day before finally managing to push the door open. The room was dimly lit, the faint scent of Lucius lingering in the air. But the bed was empty, the covers rumpled. The room empty. - “Lucius?” Feo called out, his voice hoarse. Silence answered him, the emptiness of the room amplifying his unease. He staggered further in, glancing around for any sign of where Lucius might have gone. His gaze landed on the small desk near the window, but there was nothing—no note, no clue. - A wave of nausea hit him suddenly, sharp and unforgiving. Feo stumbled into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. The acidic burn in his throat was a stark contrast to the numbness creeping through the rest of his body. He slumped against the wall, his breathing ragged, the cold tiles pressing against his back. - “Damn it,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The nausea had subsided, but the panic had only grown. Where was Lucius? What if he’d done something reckless? What if— - Feo pushed himself to his feet, gripping the edge of the sink for support. His reflection stared back at him, pale and disheveled, his dark hair sticking to his forehead. He splashed cold water on his face, hoping to steady himself, but the growing dread in his chest wouldn’t be quelled. - “Think, dammit,” he murmured to himself, his voice trembling. “Where would he go?” - Feo clenched his fists, his mind racing with possibilities. The argument played back again, louder this time, each accusation cutting deeper. What if Lucius had left for good? What if he’d— - “No,” Feo said aloud, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at him. "No, no, fuck, no!" He curled up into a ball. He did not need this. The past day had already been bad enough. Why had Lucius thought it would be a good idea to just leave him alone? After everything? Without as much as a note? Especially due to the fact that Feo couldn't think straight, let alone go looking for where he might be. - He was dead, if he came back. Feo was sure of that. |
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Lightbringer
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The museum was small and largely useless. That was the issue. The issue was the museum was small, had mostly old trinkets, pictures and the back was also useless. It came with mostly native artifacts from those who used to live there. Lucius had walked out close to sunset with a slightly miffed feeling in his chest. Useless. But he had done his best and that was something. Something was better than nothing. Now it was time to go back to the hotel--his stomach growled and cut that thought off. He needed some sort of food. It was getting late and likely a lot of places wouldn't still be open. That limited his options and eventually he settled on a tiny diner somewhat nearby the hotel. He looked out the window, munching lightly on the cheap dinner he had bought. There was something only lightly comforting about the way it tasted. Somewhat bland and somewhat too hot but that was better than nothing. The cold fizzy pop out of the glass bottle was only slightly refreshing. He was dreading going back, having to drag himself into the hotel room. Ugh. But the dinner was done too soon and Lucius dragged himself across the streets and to the hotel. While he didn't look too miffed outwardly, he felt exhausted inwardly already. He gave the stewardess a warm grin and made his way back to the room, stepping toward it. As he neared, the sound of Feo's frustrated voice echoed through the door and Lucius rolled his eyes before sighing. He knocked twice before unlocking the door and stepping in. He closed the door behind him, locked it and unfurled the wings. Already, he could smell the stench of alcohol and his feathers ruffled and rippled with discomfort. This was not going to be easy to keep calm and think. He already hated the fact that he was stuck in a room with the sheer overwhelming smell let alone... the idea that he was drunk. "I'm sure you are not in the right mind nor do you feel well," Lucius said as he removed his vest and hung it up in the closet. He removed his tie next, wrapping it around the same hanger and then toed his shoes off before sitting down on the bed again with a brief and loose sigh. "I can get some water for you, if you'd like," Lucius finally said quietly. "But if you're not up to it, that's alright. I'll see you tomorrow morning." Hopefully--no--what was he doing? Lucius shook his head, lying on the bed on his side with a small huff. |
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Neutral
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Feo's body protested as he pushed himself off the cold bathroom floor, his stomach roiling with nausea from the rapid movement. His head spun, the dizziness threatening to pull him under, but it was the panic that surged through his veins that kept him moving. His chest tightened as his heart hammered in his ribcage, each beat frantic and erratic, matching the storm inside his mind. The bathroom felt foreign, its tiles and muted lighting almost mocking him, as if the world around him was shifting while he was frozen in place. - He staggered toward the doorframe, his hands trembling uncontrollably as he gripped the edge to steady himself, feeling the coolness of the wood seep into his skin. The hallway beyond was shrouded in soft shadows, the dim glow of the hotel room a strange, distant comfort. It didn’t feel like a safe space, a resting place to catch his bearings—it felt like a place he’d probably end up drowning in, as though the entire space had changed in the few moments he’d been lost to his own spiraling thoughts. - His feet shuffled across the floor as he forced himself to move, each step a battle against the dizzying pressure building behind his eyes. His hands clenched into fists, his breath shallow and quick, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. His mind was running wild, full of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios, the fear and anxiety gnawing at him like a ravenous beast. - Lucius was on the bed, lying there in the dimness, looking too calm, too composed. The sight of him—the casual way he seemed to exist in the space, so effortlessly unbothered—sent a fresh wave of fury crashing into Feo’s chest. It was like a switch had flipped, and before he could stop himself, his feet were moving toward Lucius, his heart pounding louder than the sound of his breathing. The door clicked shut behind him, a soft, final sound that felt like a verdict. His entire being tensed, as though the air itself had become too thick to breathe. - In a blur of desperation, Feo found himself standing there, staring at Lucius with wild, frantic eyes. His mind scrambled, trying to make sense of the flood of emotions tearing through him—anger, fear, confusion, all tangled up in a mess that left him gasping for air. His body moved before he could even think, his arms reaching out, pulling Lucius into a hug before he even realized what he was doing. - It was a mistake. - The moment he felt the heat of Lucius's body, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath Feo's hands, it was as if time had frozen. The surge of warmth—of connection—was too much, too overwhelming. His heart stuttered, and everything inside him shifted. His grip faltered, and the world around him seemed to crack, the image of Lucius suddenly too real, too close. His arms dropped away almost violently, as if burned by the touch. He stepped back, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps, trying to steady himself, but his chest felt like it was caving in. - Feo could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, could feel the weight of his own heartbeat pressing down on him. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the tremors in his limbs a reminder of just how close to the edge he was. - “You—” His voice cracked, the words coming out in a harsh, strangled rasp. “You think you can just walk out and leave me here? Just *leave* without a word?” Feo’s chest heaved with the effort of speaking, each word punctuated with the raw edge of emotion he couldn’t contain. “What the hell, Lucius? You don’t just disappear like that! You don’t *leave* me behind!” - His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts that couldn’t catch up to his mouth, and everything tumbled out in a chaotic rush. “Do you have any idea how much I was *worried*? How insane I felt, not knowing where you were, not knowing what had happened to you?” His hands waved helplessly in the air, as if trying to grasp the right words, the right way to explain the suffocating panic that had clawed at him in the silence. “You could’ve been—God, I don’t know—dead, or worse—” His voice cracked again, raw and broken, but he couldn’t stop now. “You can’t just vanish like that. Do you know what it does to me? What it does to my head?” - A heavy silence fell, the weight of his words lingering in the air, but it only made him feel more exposed. His breath caught in his throat, his head pounding as his heart continued to race. He took a shaky step forward, his feet uncertain as if the very ground beneath him was shifting. His gaze locked onto Lucius’s, eyes wide and desperate, full of so many things—anger, fear, hurt, but something deeper, something that felt too vulnerable for him to admit. - “I thought—I thought you were dead,” Feo's voice broke, the last of his composure slipping through his fingers like sand. His throat felt raw, the words leaving a burning trail behind them. The panic was rising again, this time more suffocating than before. He took another step forward, his hands shaking as they balled into fists again. “At least leave a fucking note next time! At least tell me where the hell you’re going, so I don’t have to imagine the worst! How the hell could you leave me like that? And here, I thought you gave a fuck whether or not I drank myself to death! Evidently not. Evidently, you don't give two shits about my life, and you obviously don't give two shits about yours. Is that what this is about? Do you just hate yourself, and you're trying to get yourself killed? Is that why you're mad at me, because I actually care, and am trying to stop you?" - There was nothing but silence in the room now, thick and heavy, as the storm inside Feo continued to rage. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Lucius, not even for a second. His form seemed to be flickering, worse than it ever had, like a glitch in the world that was never supposed to be there in the first place. - Was that what Lucius felt like? - A glitch in the system? |
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Lightbringer
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Keeping his face impassive, relatively calm but slightly dismayed from the escapade to the museum was too easy. It was too easy. He didn't even look up as Feo came crashing out of the bathroom, instead, he rolled onto his other side and faced away from the man. The stench--ugh--the stench of alcohol was pushing up memories he had tried to forget. The volatile nature of a woman with the same smell. The soft sound of a door latching closed echoed the sound of footsteps, dragging forward toward him. Lucius sighed wearily and looked up before sitting up. Feo looked... wild. He looked drunk out of his gourd and Lucius could feel nothing but disgust and anger. That smell--that blasted smell that lingered in his senses, the stench of alcohol and... something else. He let out a small noise of surprise as Feo dragged him into a hug. Lucius stood frozen for a moment, his hands partially lifted upward but more confused than anything else. And just as quick as it came, the demigod stepped back and shook his arms as if he was burning. "... you--" The words were cut off as Feo began to speak and then began to ramble and give him some sort of rambling monologue. Did he think that? Yes. Yes he did. Had he done it? Absolutely. Last he had checked, he was an adult with free will. He hadn't "left" him behind, Lucius just... let him do his own thing because he was not about to go anywhere near... that. His eyes flicked up and down, not entirely impressed. Someone being worried about him? Pfft, they didn't really mean it. That was not something that people did with Lucius. They said it but nobody really cared, especially not while drunk. He thought that he was dead? Lucius rolled his eyes at that one--shaking his head lightly as well. It was a simple little escapade, a tiny adventure, there was--how on earth was Lucius supposed to die in Kansas? The most dangerous thing was maybe a car. Maybe. Leave a note?! Well, he could've said the same about Feo. No, Feo told him to stay put and then left without saying anything. Not that he had to, Lucius knew full well where he was going anyways. As he continued, Lucius let out a small noise. Oh he cared, just Feo didn't like the way he cared--and besides that, Feo didn't care. There was no way he did and--even if he did actually care--Lucius was far more stubborn and elusive than Feo would ever know. Lucius waited, seeing if Feo was going to keep shouting at him or if he was finally done. The silence, though heavy, was annoying. "Look," Lucius lifted his hands up with his tone dry and flat--he couldn't hide it, "as much as I would absolutely love to have this conversation right now, you," his tone was rather accusatory, "are way too drunk to even remember it. I don't do alcohol and I don't hang around those who do because I got tired of having to live with it, Feo. If you even remember this entire ordeal, you can bring it up tomorrow. Right now? I," he gestured to himself, "am going to sleep." He sat down on the bed again with a short huff and flopped onto his side. It was the same thing with his mother all over again, except she never talked about caring about him. It was always the other way around. You don't care about me, you don't stop me from this, you are never home, you're never around, don't you love your own mother? Lucius was getting rid of this as soon as he possibly could. |
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Neutral
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Feo’s breath hung heavy in the air, thick with alcohol and the remnants of panic. His heart was still pounding, but the words coming from Lucius stung like ice. He could feel them sink into him, the flatness of Lucius’s tone slicing through the fog of his emotions. The casual dismissal, the way Lucius rolled over, shutting him out so easily—it struck him like a slap. - Feo stood there for a moment, stunned, the reality of it all slowly settling around him. Lucius wasn’t even trying to engage with him—not really. Not the way Feo needed, not the way he thought they could. The silence that followed felt unbearable, thick and suffocating, and Feo couldn’t shake the weight of it. He felt his chest tighten, and his mind spun wildly in search of the words, the right response—but nothing came. His hands trembled at his sides, his thoughts chaotic, spinning in circles. - Then, his eyes drifted—almost by accident—to the corner of the room. There, abandoned and forgotten, lay his tunic. The rich, deep color of it stood out against the dim light, but it was the symbol on the fabric that caught his attention. The crest. The mark of his heritage, the weight of it that he had carried for so long, only to feel utterly alien in this moment. What did any of it mean now? - His chest tightened, a rush of guilt flooding him, but it wasn’t just the tunic. No, something much deeper gnawed at him. Lucius had pulled away, yes, but it was more than that. There was something about the way he had turned—so quickly, so resolutely. As if all of this, all the mess of it, was just… too much. And Feo realized, too late, that he had ignored the signs. - Something had happened to Lucius. - Something much darker, something far deeper than he was willing to show. Feo had been so caught up in his own fears, in his own panic, that he hadn’t even seen it—the cracks, the hurt that Lucius was burying. His anger, his frustration—it wasn’t just about the disappearance. It was about the walls Lucius had built, about the things he’d kept hidden, buried beneath that bubbly exterior. Feo had been blind, too focused on his own spiral to notice the silent destruction around him. - The realization hit him like a wave, sweeping him under. He hadn’t just been angry—he had been selfish. He hadn’t seen the damage he was causing. - But Lucius was done. - Feo blinked rapidly, the raw sting of it burning at the back of his eyes, threatening to bring the wave of emotion crashing over him again. Instead, he forced himself to focus, to clear his mind for just a moment. He reached for his key with trembling fingers, pulling it from his pocket. His hands shook as he placed it on the nightstand. - The room felt even smaller now, the silence echoing louder, the distance between them palpable. - He needed to leave. - Without looking back, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. The hallway felt endless, every step dragging like it was taking him farther away from everything that had been so close—too close. - His thoughts were a whirlwind, every step heavy, his mind racing, too fast to catch up to. The hotel’s lights caused his head to swim as he made his way outside, the chill of the night air striking him like a slap. It did nothing to cool the fire burning inside of him. - He stumbled into an alleyway just beyond the hotel, the shadows swallowing him whole. The cold concrete scraped against his skin as he sank to the ground, curling into himself. He didn’t care. He deserved this—every ounce of it. Every part of him that had been wrong, every word spoken in haste, every selfish impulse. It all led him here. The ache in his chest, the burning shame. - This was his punishment. - For not seeing the truth. For pushing Lucius further into that dark place. For being so blind to the damage he had done, even as it had been staring him in the face. Feo closed his eyes, the pain and self-loathing swirling in his gut, twisting deeper with every passing second. He wrapped his arms around himself, as if he could hold the chaos inside, but it only made it worse. - In the darkness of the alley, the weight of it all pressed down on him, until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t escape. It was his fault. He had broken something, and there was no easy fix for it. - He wasn't going to get a single bit of sleep tonight. |
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Lightbringer
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"What a hypocrite," Lucius muttered into the sheets, his fist curling into the comforter beneath him. "Sure, shout at me about how I should leave a note or tell you where I'm going but hey, you can just storm on out... whatever, rules for thee and not for me," the young man sighed, sinking into the blankets and pillow fully. He was exhausted, the effort of keeping up the whole mask, patching the cracks, trying hard to not let the rest seep through and slip out... it was exhausting. But he needed that image, he had to be what he wanted others to see because if they saw the real him... it all fell apart. Lucius didn't really expect to get much sleep. He figured Feo would be back eventually with some hungover headache fueled apology. The vast majority of him didn't want to accept it, instead throwing back snippy words and letting his frustrations escape and bleed out. But he wouldn't. He would probably give him a wane smile, accept the apology and advise him not to drink anymore. He had to come back. His tunic was still there in the corner, dumped on the floor. Poetic of sorts, Lucius supposed. The discarded tunic, thrown onto the ground with little care, haste and left there. The crest that glittered back in the dim light of a bedside lamp, a stark reminder of the Norse heritage. But Lucius... his vest and tie, hung up neatly in the closet. The tucked together, put together look, nothing out of place. Poetic and ironic. Lucius let out a weary breath, the words ringing in his head like a bell tower pelting the air. "Do you know what it does to me?" Another cracking ring. "I thought you cared whether or not I drank myself to death!" The cacophony of phrases echoed in his head. "How could you leave me like that?" They mixed together, creating a discourse of bells. "You don't care about me. You don't care about you!" Lucius buried himself in his wings and, for once in a very, very long time finally let the burning hot prickling of tears escape. From his eyes to his fair freckled cheeks, down his skin along his jaw and into the pillow beneath him. All he could see was dazzling white feathers--a familiar refuge from the raging discourse of rattling thoughts that rammed against his walls like cannon balls. He had done so much, worked so hard, to build those walls back up again. Especially after his mother had finally passed on. But now...? Somehow, he had gotten tangled up with... with a copy of her. Perhaps it wasn't fair to group Feo with the woman but he couldn't shake the uncanny feeling that he was exactly like her. "I don't need you trying to fix me--" Lucius had been trying. He had been trying to prevent his mother all over again without realizing it. The tears turned to sobs, racking his shoulders and--sometime through the night, Lucius had finally passed out. Likely from exhaustion. He knew he had fallen asleep since, by the time he woke up, it was light out. The sunlight streamed in through pale white curtains. |
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Spring 
Night 
Flood Moon: 
