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Neutral
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Feo felt the weight of Lucius settling deeper against him, his words soft and rambling, as though he were trying to convince himself that the world could wait just a little longer. Feo didn’t mind. In fact, he relished the quiet hum of Lucius’s voice, the way it filled the space between them with a kind of warmth that felt rare and precious. - As Lucius’s breathing slowed, Feo could feel the subtle shift in his body, the way his weight grew heavier as sleep began to claim him. Feo’s hand continued its gentle motion through Lucius’s golden hair, a soothing rhythm. The faint flutter of feathers brushed against Feo’s skin, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Even in sleep, Lucius’s presence was uniquely his—comforting, protective, and entirely unguarded. - Feo tilted his head slightly, glancing down at the serene expression on Lucius’s face. The sharpness of Lucius’s features softened in rest, his usual energy subdued into something quiet, peaceful. Feo’s fingers paused for a moment as he studied him, eyes flickering with a mixture of fondness and something deeper—something he didn’t quite know how to name but felt in the deepest part of himself. Something he found that he only felt around Lucius. - He let out a soft sigh, leaning back into the pillows as he tightened his arms around Lucius just slightly, careful not to disturb him. If this was what peace felt like, Feo wasn’t sure he’d ever want to let it go. - Feo’s gaze lingered on Lucius for a moment longer before he closed his eyes, his cheek resting against the top of his head. “Sleep well, Lucius,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "You deserve it." - As Feo lay there, the steady rhythm of Lucius’s breathing against him was meant to be comforting—but his mind wouldn’t stop racing. Lucius had mentioned dinner, and now that the thought had slipped into his head, it wasn’t going anywhere. Feo’s stomach gave a quiet, traitorous growl, reminding him just how little he’d eaten. One bite. One fucking bite of that sandwich before chaos had exploded around them again. - Stupid dinner. Stupid interruptions. Stupid Aera. - A fresh wave of anger bubbled up in Feo’s chest as he thought about the day’s events. They could have had a quiet, peaceful night. Lucius could have fallen asleep in his arms without the weight of panic and fear dragging him down. But no—Aera just had to swoop in and ruin everything, sending Feo into a spiral for the thousandth time. - God, what the hell was her problem? - Lucius had mentioned the possibility of Aera being related to him, but Feo’s stomach twisted at the thought. No. Absolutely not. That wasn’t possible. His mom was dead. She’d been gone for years. This… thing was just a mimic, some kind of twisted shifter using her appearance to dig under his skin. And it had worked. Oh, it had definitely worked. Feo clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening briefly on Lucius’s shoulder before he forced himself to ease his grip. He couldn’t wake him—not after everything. - But the more Feo thought about it, the angrier he became. Aera had dared to weaponize his past, to make a mockery of his pain, his memories, like they were nothing but a joke to her. And Lucius—Lucius—she had the audacity to drag him into this, to compare him to Iven as if Feo couldn’t tell the difference. - Feo felt his chest tighten, a hot, choking sensation welling up in his throat. His breath hitched as the anger gave way to something rawer, something deeper. He didn’t even realize the tears had started until he felt the warm, silent streaks trailing down his cheeks. - Damn it. - He bit down hard on his lip, trying to will them away, but it was no use. The tears came anyway, silent and unrelenting, like a flood breaking through a dam. He buried his face in Lucius’s hair, his shoulders trembling as he tried to keep himself quiet. The weight of everything—Aera’s taunts, the memories she’d dragged up, the fear of losing Lucius—hit him all at once, and for a moment, it was too much. - How dare she. How dare she do this to him, to them. - Feo’s chest ached with the force of it, but even as he cried, he held onto Lucius tighter, like an anchor in the storm. He didn’t know what the next step was, didn’t know how to fight back against someone so insidious. But one thing was certain: the next time he saw Aera, she wouldn’t walk away unscathed. She’d pay for what she’d done—for every insult, every cruel comparison, every time she’d twisted the knife just to see him bleed. - And until then… he would wait. He would breathe. He would hold Lucius close and remind himself of the one thing Aera could never take from him. - This. Right here. - No matter what Aera did, no matter what she threw at them, Feo still had Lucius. And that, more than anything, was worth fighting for. |
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Lightbringer
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"You could give up now." The words caught in his ears. They almost shattered the pleasant scenery that he was seeing. Warm, grassy hills leading to a blue lake. Flowers dotted in between the grass, a distant line of trees, birds that sang overhead, butterflies--not bees, he stressed out around bees or any buzzing insect--and the likes that flittered around the flowers. The warm was comforting, a small faint breeze that drifted through. The sky overhead was dotted lightly with clouds that smiled down and occasionally hid the sunlight. But the words that the voice had spoken were unfamiliar. "You could--" "Why--also give up what?" Lucius had his elbows on his knees, leaned forward to enjoy the warmth of the sunshine on his back and filtered through white feathers. "It's dangerous, don't you know?" Lucius rolled his eyes and promptly tuned out the nagging voice. It went on and on about some sort of danger, demigods, how Aera was right, that he had been dragged in, that he had no idea what he was dealing with and other miscellaneous things that Lucius tuned out in favor of bird song and the wind in the grass. "You're not even listening!" "Nope," Lucius confirmed with a brief snort. "Why bother?" "You could get killed?" "Oh, no. Whatever shall I do? It's almost like that little phrase has been following me around my whole life. It... doesn't mean anything anymore. I don't care anymore. I just don't. So if you have something better to yap about, go for it. Otherwise? Nah, I'm not listening." The silence was almost blissful that lingered afterwards. For approximately seven seconds. "You really are as dumb as they say." "Gotta get a reputation somehow," Lucius responded dryly and shook his head. "I've never been smart, I've never been clever or whatever. I'm always the same, dumb, reckless and feathered. That's all I got going for me. The only thing that can possibly save me is my pretty face," his tone was dry and flat, almost tired. "I'm not what you want me to be--I tried to stab an illusion, okay? I'm not smart." The silence dragged on for a few moments longer. "How far will you go to save him?" "As far as I need to." "... we'll see." Lucius shook his head lightly. "Am I at least going to feel like I got some sleep this time?" "Ehh, probably," the voice responded, not entirely certain. "I know your secret." "... which one?" The voice was silent. "... there's more than one?" "Yeah, go for it, I'll let you know if you're right or not," Lucius snorted and pushed one hand through his hair. But the voice was silent and Lucius figured it was a bluff. There was something else, edging on the side of his consciousness that drew him from the annoying voice to the room again. Soft... breaths, shaking shoulders but the soft breathing-- "Feo? Are you alright? What's wrong?" |
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Neutral
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All your fault. - He tried to keep himself composed, but the more he tried, the harder it became. The anger burned hot under his skin, coiling in his chest like a caged animal, but the sadness—the exhaustion—dragged down on him like lead. His thoughts churned, spiraling back to Aera’s mocking words, the way she had so effortlessly ripped open wounds he thought had long since scarred over. - Feo’s squeezed his eyes closed, his body trembling as he tried—and failed—to hold himself together. His mind was spinning, his thoughts a chaotic mess of anger, confusion, and something deeper, something heavier. His past was being dragged into the light, twisted and toyed with like it was nothing more than a cheap trick. - Aera had ruined everything. - They could have had a peaceful night. A good night. He could have spent the evening teasing Lucius, watching the way he rolled his eyes but still leaned into his touch. They could have talked, planned, maybe even had a real meal without interruption for once. But instead, he was here, lying next to Lucius, shaking, barely holding himself together. - And the worst part? He was still hungry. - It was almost laughable, really. He had taken one bite of his sandwich earlier before everything had spiraled into chaos. Now, even as his stomach twisted with hunger, it wasn’t enough to push away the suffocating weight in his chest. The hunger was just another irritation, another problem stacked onto everything else. - But none of that mattered. - Because now, as he lay there, his face still damp with silent tears, his mind was circling back to what he had been trying to avoid thinking about. - Iven. - The name sent a sharp, sickening pain through him, like a knife twisting between his ribs. - He clenched his jaw, trying to push it down, trying to shove it into the back of his mind where it belonged, but it was too late. It was already there. Aera had already dragged it all up, torn open something Feo had spent years trying to forget, trying to bury. - Lucius wasn’t Iven. - He wasn’t. - But the comparison had been made anyway. And it hurt. - A sob caught in Feo’s throat, but he refused to let it out. His breath came quicker, sharper, as he fought against the emotions clawing their way up his chest. He curled in slightly, pressing closer to Lucius, as if grounding himself against his warmth would keep the thoughts at bay. - It didn’t. - More tears spilled down his cheeks, silent but relentless. - Aera had dared to drag Iven into this. Had dared to say Lucius was anything like him. - Feo didn’t even know if it was rage or grief or something else entirely burning in his chest, but it hurt. Gods, it hurt. - Iven had been— - No. - He refused to think about him. Not now. Not ever. - But his body betrayed him. The tears didn’t stop. His chest ached with something deep and raw, and no matter how hard he tried to swallow it down, to push it away, it lingered. - He barely noticed how tightly he was gripping Lucius’s shirt until he felt movement beside him. A shift in warmth. Then a voice. - "Feo? Are you alright? What’s wrong?" - Lucius’s voice was thick with sleep, tinged with concern. Soft. Gentle. - It was enough to make Feo squeeze his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against Lucius’s shoulder as if that would somehow make it all disappear. - He couldn’t answer. His throat was too tight, his breath too unsteady. He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to acknowledge what was happening, didn’t want to put it into words. Words made it real. - So he just held on tighter, burying his face against Lucius, his silent tears falling faster. - All your fault. |
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Lightbringer
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There was something in the suffocating silence broken only by the short intake of quiet breaths. His question hadn't gone entirely unanswered--well the first one at least. It was... a little clear that Feo was not alright. More than anything, Lucius was pulling a conclusion from the strings he had been given. They had been laid out slowly, carefully or less than carefully. It was enough that he pulled some of them together. But the last bit resided behind Feo's walls. But Lucius had a rather uncomfortable guess... that he knew was probably the end of the story. It had somewhat started when they first met, the fact that Feo seemed infatuated with the white feathers--the way he looked. He reflected it, mirrored Lucius to himself. That was a mere side-glance. It wasn't until the incident with Atlas that he had started to wonder... what had actually happened. The words that Feo had said were echoing in his head--particularly the ones when he was drunk. Lucius had a deep feeling that it wasn't really him that Feo was talking to. The Atlas incident had given him thoughts to wonder who--or what had happened to who--Feo had initially tried to protect. The anger that he had, the way he reacted--none of it was something that just happened out of instinct, that was more of a deliberate action to keep something else from happening again. It connected to the dream. Feo had said something about a weird dream that connected to Loki. Lucius knew what that meant and by the words Feo said--the hidden message behind it that Loki wasn't getting to him... meant that Loki had gotten to someone. Heimdal's off-hand comment about thinking he was dead... which immediately connected into Aera's attempts at jabs. Blond, feathered... Iven. What Lucius didn't have was the end of the story. He had a deep feeling, a sense, that he knew how it ended. But he just didn't have the actual piece to the puzzle, just a conjecture. His arms wrapped around Feo, holding him closer as he pieced through his thoughts again. It wasn't the best of thoughts but it was... probably the ones that Lucius needed at the moment. "It's not your fault," he whispered quietly, "it never was. Just let it out, don't hold back. You don't have to say anything, just... just let it out." He didn't have to say a thing... because Lucius had an idea he already knew. Not that he really wanted to say anything about it. He could pick up on something's... just not a lot of them. |
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Neutral
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He hadn't wanted to break down. Not like this. Not in front of Lucius. But the gentle warmth of his arms, the quiet reassurance in his voice—it undid him. - His fingers curled tighter into the fabric of Lucius’s shirt, gripping as if letting go would mean losing something he couldn’t bear to lose again. - Lucius didn’t ask. He didn’t push. - He just knew. - And somehow, that made it worse. - The sobs he had tried so hard to suppress finally broke free, silent but shaking his entire body. His breathing was uneven, shallow, as though each inhale was a battle against the weight pressing down on his chest. The pain was suffocating, wrapping around him like iron chains, dragging him under. - Lucius's voice, quiet and steady, cut through the storm. - "It’s not your fault. It never was." - The words barely registered at first, lost in the overwhelming tide of grief. But slowly, they settled into him, burrowing deep, pressing against the wounds he had never allowed to heal. - He wanted to believe it. - Gods, he wanted to. - But the past had teeth. - The echoes of what had happened—of what he had failed to stop—dug into him, refusing to loosen their grip. - If he had been stronger. - If he had been faster. - If he had just done more. - The tears kept coming, hot and unrelenting. There were no words—there were no words. What could he even say? That it hurt? That it still hurt? That it would always hurt? That sometimes, in the quiet moments, he swore he could still hear Iven’s voice? See the way his feathers caught the light, the same way Lucius’s did? - That every time he looked at Lucius, some part of him feared—knew—that history would repeat itself? - That he would fail again? - Another sob ripped through him, and he buried his face deeper against Lucius’s shoulder, as if that alone could shield him from the thoughts clawing at his mind. - Lucius just held him. - Didn’t let go. Didn’t waver. - Just stayed. - The warmth of his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet strength in his presence—it was the only thing keeping Feo from completely shattering. - He didn’t have to say anything. - Because Lucius already knew. |
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Lightbringer
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Nothing he could say would ever just magically fix the wounds that Feo had. Lucius knew that but good grief if he didn't want something that would fix them, even a little bit. He shook his head, pushing one hand through Feo's hair. It wasn't his fault. Lucius knew that much and he would hold onto it until the bitter end. When nothing else could, he would hold onto it. He'd refuse to see it any other way. It wasn't ever Feo's fault. No. It was Loki's. That god had debts that he needed to pay. Lucius was stubbornly persistent in making sure that he would pay every single one. It was the consequence of his own actions, not the bitterness of revenge. No, it was the consequences that Loki had brought upon himself. Lucius would start with everything he had ever done to Feo. "I'm still here," Lucius whispered, drawing his thoughts to the shaking demigod in his arms. His heart twisted in his chest, wrenched with a pain he couldn't quite explain properly. There was something about the way that Feo sobbed, silently, relentlessly that tore his own heart to shreds. Feo didn't deserve this. He deserved... he deserved walks on the beach, a warm sunset every night, the sound of gentle rain on the top of the roof. The crisp smell of a cool morning mixing with salty air. He deserved someone beside him, who loved him more than life itself--Lucius was more than happy to be that person. Feo deserved peace. That was entirely what Lucius was aiming for, even if it would take longer than he wanted. His goal hadn't changed. But his plan had. That was alright. The plan could change, it was flexible. But the goal remained the same. Lucius wasn't entirely a violent person, no. But he would enjoy the screams of agony that he would draw from Loki as he repaid him for everything he had done to Feo. For using him, treating him like dirt, manipulating him, taking away everything he loved--everything Loki had ever done... he would pay the debt. The Greek demigod knew that he wouldn't ever be Iven. That was something he just couldn't be. Lucius was... Lucius. That was it. Nothing more... he couldn't say nothing less because... well... he was himself. That often had drawbacks in and of itself... some of which he was aware of and others... well, they'd come up and surprise him as well as everybody else. "It's okay," Lucius broke his silence again. "I'm still here. I'm not leaving, you can let it all out until you feel better." |
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Neutral
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Feo sucked in a trembling breath, his shoulders shaking as he cried. His throat ached, his chest felt like it was caving in, and no matter how tightly he clenched his jaw, how much he tried to force the sobs back down, they still clawed their way out in broken, shuddering breaths. - His body felt exhausted, but his mind wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t let go of the memories slamming into him one after another. Aera’s words, the sneer in her voice, the way she had looked at Lucius like he was nothing—like he was replaceable. It had been a cruel mockery of everything Feo had already lost. - Iven’s face flashed in his mind. - Bright blue eyes. A teasing smile. Wings catching the sunlight. The warmth of a hand on his shoulder, a voice laughing in his ear. A constant presence, an unwavering force. - And then— - Gone. - Just gone. - Feo sucked in a sharp breath, curling in on himself, gripping at Lucius like he was the only thing keeping him from shattering completely. He had spent years forcing himself to push it down, to move on, because what else was there to do? What was left? What was he supposed to do when everything had already been taken from him? - But now—now he had Lucius, this stupid, reckless, incredible idiot who had managed to wedge himself so deeply into Feo’s life that he didn’t know how to function without him anymore. - And the thought of losing him— - No. No, he couldn’t think about that. - Lucius’s hand moved through his hair again, slow and comforting. His touch was gentle, grounding, and real. Feo wasn’t alone in a dark corner of his mind. He wasn’t trapped in the past, reliving everything over and over again. - Lucius was here. - Lucius was alive. - And yet, that only made the tears fall harder. - He couldn’t stop this. It wasn’t going to go away. This ache, this grief—it had been festering inside him for too long. No amount of pushing it down, no amount of ignoring it, had made it disappear. - Feo knew this wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. The dam had broken, and there was no sealing it back up just yet. But that didn’t mean Lucius needed to sit here and watch him fall apart. - He swallowed hard, voice hoarse as he finally forced himself to speak. “You should go back to sleep.” It barely came out as more than a whisper, rough and uneven. His hands clutched Lucius tighter, contradicting his own words. “This… this isn’t gonna stop for a while.” - He didn’t want to drag Lucius into this. - This was his burden. His grief. His alone. - Lucius had done enough. - And yet—he didn’t let go. - Didn’t pull away. - Even as he tried to tell Lucius to rest, a part of him, buried deep beneath the weight of everything else, didn’t want to be left alone in the dark. - But he couldn’t ask him to stay. - He had already done enough. |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius tightened his arm around Feo. A part of him absolutely refused to let go of the demigod, knowing full well that if he did... it would only cement those memories in his head. He shook his head lightly. "No," Lucius responded, his voice quiet and soft. It was firm but kind. "No, Feo. I'm going to be with you through everything. Every second, every moment, I'm not leaving you now." Lucius shook his head lightly, firm and stubborn. There was nothing Feo was going to say that was going to make him leave--even in this tiny little moment. He was sticking around and he was not going to be leaving. There was no chance he was going to be letting go. "I'm still here, I'm going to stay by you no matter what," Lucius echoed the words, lowering his hand to cup Feo's cheek and guide his eyes up to meet his own sapphire blue gaze. There was a soft tenderness in his touch, a subtle wane smile in his eyes. "You mean more than you know to me. I'm not going to let you do this alone, not anymore." Feo hadn't let him go through this alone. Lucius wasn't going to turn away now. He'd hold onto Feo and he wouldn't let go. Nobody was going to pry him off. Not even with a full length crowbar. They'd had to pry Feo from his ... well, his cold dead hands and even then, Lucius would claw his way up from the afterlife. He was not letting this fabulous demigod be hurt again. Not like that. Not alone. The determination in Lucius's gaze deepened. "It's okay to let it out, Feo. Don't hold back, just let it out. You're going to feel better once you do." Probably exhausted but emotionally, he'd feel better. After all, Feo hadn't let him step away and shy back. Lucius wanted to--he really did--but Feo hadn't let him. Feo had pried in and held him tight when Lucius had all but broken. Lucius was going to return that favor, he wasn't going to stand back and just watch or whatever... he wasn't going to be right there, helping in whatever way he could. Right now? That was holding him. Supporting his demigod, his Raven, through this grief and emotion. Nothing was going to make him move. Unless it was Aera coming to stick her nose in business... in which Lucius desperately hoped she would come in person. He'd feel bad for the cleaning folk... but then again... Aera would be gone. The pros outweighed the cons in that sense. Lucius lowered his head, gently pressing a soft kiss to Feo's forehead. "I'm still here," he whispered, "I'm never leaving. It's okay to let it out." |
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Neutral
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Feo’s breath stuttered, his whole body locking up as he tried—and failed—to keep it together. His grip on Lucius tightened, hands curling into the fabric of his shirt with enough force to make his knuckles ache. He focused on that feeling, the dull pressure of it, anything to anchor himself in the present, anything to stop the way his chest was caving in on itself. - But it wasn’t working. - He could still hear it—Aera’s voice, sharp and cruel, prodding at old wounds like they were just a joke to her. He could still see it—Loki’s grin, smug and knowing, like he was enjoying every second of Feo unraveling. He could still feel it—loss curling around his ribs like iron, squeezing the air from his lungs. - He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to be this weak. - Feo had spent years forcing himself to be fine. He had stitched himself back together with anger and bitterness, with sheer stubbornness, with the promise that he wouldn’t let himself break again. But now—now all of it was falling apart, slipping through his fingers faster than he could catch it. - And Lucius wasn’t letting go. - That was the worst part. Or maybe the best. - He wasn’t leaving, wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t making Feo feel like he had to shove everything down and pretend it wasn’t happening. His voice was quiet, steady, full of something that Feo wasn’t sure he knew how to handle. He was gentle, whispering reassurances that Feo didn’t deserve, touching him like he wasn’t something sharp and dangerous, something barely holding itself together. - The warmth of Lucius’s hand against his cheek made his breath hitch, made something in his chest tighten so painfully that it almost sent him spiraling. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force it back, trying to push it all down where it belonged, but the second Lucius spoke again, all of it shattered. - “You mean more than you know to me.” - Feo bit down on his lip, hard enough to sting. His throat ached. His eyes burned. His chest heaved as silent sobs wracked through him, breaking free no matter how hard he tried to hold them back. - It was too much. - Too much weight, too much pain, too many years of carrying it alone. - Lucius wasn’t Iven. He would never be. Feo knew that. He had known it from the start. - But gods, he was warm. He was solid. He was here. - He wasn’t looking at Feo like he was broken. He wasn’t speaking to him like he was fragile. He wasn’t offering empty words or hollow comforts. - He was just staying. - Feo had lost so much. Too much. More than he could ever put into words. - But for the first time in a long, long time—he wasn’t alone. - His fingers curled tighter, his forehead pressing into Lucius’s shoulder as he let himself cry, as he let it hurt. - Lucius pressed a kiss to his temple, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm still here." - And Feo—he believed him. |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius was prepared to stay right where he was. He was prepared to stay there for as long as it took for Feo to feel more or less okay. If it was eons or ages, that was fine. Whatever Feo needed, Lucius would provide. Right now that was himself, a comforting and steadying force. His arms around Feo, providing a safe space for him to rebuild. But in order to rebuild, you had to tear things out and take them down. That was the unfortunate Truth about these types of things. It wasn't helpful to just paint over the cracks and whatnot. In order to make things new, and last, they had to be taken out and torn down. A crumbling foundation would only prove fruitless in rebuilding a sturdy house. Or building. But that was why he was there. Lucius understood, to an extent, that he was simply something to help support Feo's rebuilding process. He was there to help him feel better. That was totally fine with him. The winged demigod didn't feel a need to be anything else at that current moment. He wasn't going to give advice, he wasn't going to distract him from this process. Lucius lowered his blue eyes as his hand began to rub small and gentle circles around Feo's back. Something simple, something calming and gentle to just keep him right there. To remind Feo that he wasn't leaving, not now. Perhaps once Feo felt better, he could venture somewhere to get something to eat. That wouldn't be a terrible idea. But that was a problem for the future, something that they didn't have to worry about right now. As he thought briefly about getting food, his gaze traveled toward the window. He could hear, ever so faintly, the wind start to pick up. It howled for a good few minutes before the rain began to putter down, pattering against the window. So... maybe their food could wait a little bit longer. Just long enough to wait for the rain to stop. As fun as it was, it was also bone chillingly cold. The type of cold that Lucius wasn't exactly eager to experience again. Maybe the rain in Florida would be warmer. A part of him hoped it would. The other part hoped that it wouldn't rain. But that was probably wishful thinking. His eyes finally traveled down toward Feo again, tilting his head to keep an eye on how the demigod was doing. If he was feeling better, if he wasn't, if he should say something... anything like that. |
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Winter Month: 1 
Day 
