The blurring cityscape shifted from uptown to downtown to the open fields. As with many airports, they had a tendency to be a little bit farther out from the rest of everywhere else. Planes were large, required a lot of space and that space couldn't be compromised by housing, businesses or even parking lots. The man driving the taxi said nothing, Feo was saying nothing and neither was Lucius.

Which wasn't a problem at all. Lucius let his mind wander, thinking of the task ahead. He wasn't sure that they could get on a plane immediately leaving for Kansas. If there was, he was willing to bet that there would be a layover somewhere at some point. Or, it would be a few hours before he--they--could even get on that plane to begin with. That was the nature of flight, things could be a bit more unpredictable but it did travel faster all around.

They didn't have to worry about checked luggage or baggage, he wasn't planning on bringing any. It wasn't going to be that long of a trip anyways. So that made things much easier all around.

His sapphire eyes flicked toward the sky, watching one of the planes soar overhead. What a beauty.

There was something freeing about flight that he couldn't quite describe as well as he wanted to. But he could feel it in his bones. The aching pull of something that just wanted to reach out, to be in the air, weightless and free.

The taxi pulled to a stop in the lane, looking back at Lucius. "Five."

"How about a ten?" The young man replied, sifting through his wallet. "I don't have enough to split so just keep the extra," he flashed the man another dazzling smile and opened the door to slide on out. He at least made sure Feo was out of the car as well before heading inside.

Truth be told, Lucius had way more money than he likely felt comfortable with. But most of it was going to airplane tickets. Airplanes, in general, were usually used for emergencies or the rich. His mother, through whatever means she had managed, had gotten a rather large lump of inheritance for the young man. Lucius was almost entirely certain most of it was from contraband or other... unsightly means.

But, dressed the way he was, he fit in with the crowd. Lucius stepped toward the front desk and gave the flight attendant another lopsided smile.

"Ticket?" She asked.

"I was hoping you'd help us out. We need a flight to Kansas, I know, but it is what it is, right?" Lucius waved one hand lightly, "do you have available tickets?"

"... I've got a flight that will land in Kansas here... it's not the direct route," she shuffled through a few pages. "There's seven spots still available."

"Wonderful," Lucius fished his wallet out again, "should be about--"

"Thirty-eight dollars," the woman responded, looking up at him. "Why on earth are you going to Kansas?"

Lucius gave her a rather wane smile and glanced back at Feo before shaking his head. "Well... it's a little... it's a bit too fresh to really talk about..."

The woman's eyes flickered. "Oh--oh I'm sorry, I am so sorry. My condolences--here are the tickets," she held the papers over the counter and waved, "safe travels!"

Lucius gave Feo one of the tickets and tipped his head. "Seventy six dollars for two round trip tickets? That's not bad."

Confidence or arrogance, both of which crossed the mind of the other demigod. Sheer and blatant stupidity was probably a better answer. Stupidity wrapped in the underlying determination that he was going to do something at the very least. It was probably confidence in all reality but Lucius didn't exactly connect well with positive terms, he'd usually laugh it off, comment about how he definitely wasn't that smart or something of the sort. Things just weren't like that. Especially now, where Feo figured something could go wrong. But well, Lucius refused to think that it could.

It couldn't go wrong if he didn't let it go wrong.

A blind optimism perhaps.

Whatever the real reason behind it, Lucius wasn't about to stop, think about it and let that ruin his plans. That was bad. Bad decisions, bad timing and poor judgement. They could get into all of that after they finished this little mission. Mostly because Lucius knew full well that he would inevitably end up chasing Feo off, ruin his own reputation--not that he had one--but he'd get all of the labels again which was partially why he was in the new college in the first place.

His opened his mouth and wrinkled his nose. It felt... dry. So he paused and turned to get a bottle of water. It was a bit more expensive but when he wasn't sure when he'd actually get a chance to stop and get a drink again? It was best to get one now while he was thinking about it.

Kansas. Nothing much but the plains, the wide open corn fields, towns scattered about between fields, cows, other animals and the likes. Technically, it was in the midst of tornado season but Lucius was relatively confident that even if there was one, they'd be fine. Out there, they were used to it. Bunkers and basements existed for a reason.

His gaze flicked back toward Feo, watching the Nordic demigod for a few moments. There was something behind his eyes, something waiting and picking at him from the inside. It made itself manifest in the smallest of frowns, a distant look in his expression and the silence. Lucius could handle some silence but right now he was itching to yap. Oh good grief, he could not shut up if his life depended on it. Well, he probably could. But his life didn't depend on it and he wanted nothing more than to just start yapping--or maybe, instead, having Feo talk...

Lucius stepped back to fall in step with Feo, giving him a lopsided smile. "You look like you ate something sour," he noted quietly, "what's going on?"

"Nothing," Feo muttered, though even he could hear the hollowness in his voice, like the word had been hollowed out before it even left his mouth.

Feo knew it wasn’t an aggressive push for answers, but it was persistent enough to make Feo shift uncomfortably. He didn’t want to unpack the swirling thoughts in his head—not here, not now. There was too much noise around them, and even more noise inside him.

Feo turned his gaze back to the terminal, where the flow of people was an endless, chaotic river of movement—families juggling strollers and carry-ons, business travelers glued to their phones, weary solo wanderers clutching their passports like lifelines. The scene was almost hypnotic, a visual static that made it easier not to look at Lucius. He couldn’t say what he saw in that moment that made him speak. Maybe it was a face in the crowd that triggered a fleeting memory, or maybe it was just the sheer pressure of the silence between them.

"Just... Kansas," Feo said finally, his voice low, as if saying it too loudly might give the word more weight than it already carried in his mind. The word hung in the air, heavy but incomplete.

Feo didn’t have to look at Lucius to know he was being watched, measured. He could feel it like a faint vibration under his skin. Kansas. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either, and they both knew it.

It wasn’t Kansas, the place, not exactly. It was what Kansas represented—a void, a question mark, a nagging reminder of how little control he had over the direction of his life right now. The irritation and unease that gnawed at him weren’t tied to any one thing but to everything all at once. The feeling of being pulled along a current he hadn’t chosen, one that felt indifferent to his protests, had taken root deep inside him.

The airport noise seemed to rise around him, filling his ears with an indistinct hum that blurred the edges of everything. Feo cleared his throat, the sound sharp against the ambient chaos. When he spoke again, his voice was firmer, more resolute.

"We should probably get to the gate," he said, cutting through the tension with practicality.

He didn’t wait for a response. He turned on his heel and started walking, his steps brisk but measured, not hurried enough to draw attention. The ticket crinkled slightly in his grip, a tactile reminder that he was still here, still moving forward, even if he didn’t know where forward would lead him.

Just Kansas.

Lucius followed him with his blue gaze for a long silent minute before he finally started to walk after him.

Just Kansas.

Something about those words felt and sounded wrong. Who would have anxiety about going to Kansas? It wasn't like there was anything there to be dangerous in the first place. Maybe the storms. But that was about it. Kansas was wide open, plains, corn fields, pastures and just nothingness. There wasn't anything to go wrong because there wasn't anything there to begin with. So what was the reason behind the hesitation and the reluctant words of 'Just Kansas.'

Also the nothing he had muttered beforehand.

Lucius tilted his head for a moment or two, watching him yet again. He shook his head lightly, tossing his hair back and forth. This was a side of people that he wasn't sure he understood. A little fear, anxiety and the likes, sure. But something in him just couldn't figure out why. Why Feo had this resistance to letting go, opening up, why this wall was slowly recycling itself. It would come down but at the bottom it would build back up again.

What was so bad about just being... or pretending to be something else for just a little bit? Good grief, he was a demigod of Loki after all. It wasn't like it was permanent and--to go along with that--it wasn't like anyone back at the campus would know at all.

If they did, who cared?

It was a college. There was a slim chance that most of them would stay in touch once (or sometimes if) they graduated. So why did it matter at all? Or was that the issue to begin with?

Lucius shook his head and caught his reflection in a window for a brief moment. He looked human. He didn't look ethereal or even imposing at all, he just looked human. There wasn't anything special about his reflection this time, no over-hanging feathering, no reflecting glow from white feathers. Just him.

He turned on his feet again, keeping pace with Feo as they made their way to the gate. A part of him was reminded that he looked different now. He couldn't expect everyone to act the same way.

The other part, and much larger part, was reminded that he was different. He wasn't like others--and it wasn't in the loner, edgy type way. It was in the fact that others had something he didn't. A braincell. A singular functioning braincell. Lucius knew he wasn't the smartest, nor would he pretend that he was. He just rode on what he had experienced, what had worked and what he had seen. He didn't know that stuff, he just followed the experiences of others and himself.

He didn't have to think about what could happen or anything. He knew that side well. It was more the worry of what to do next. Which was get on the plane. After that, probably find a taxi and... then a museum. It was a particular museum in the heart of Kansas, a dusty little no-name town.

But Lucius didn't even bother saying anything. Clearly, it wouldn't be worth while. Feo wouldn't be listening, he wouldn't respond, nobody was really around them either. So he didn't have the option to talk to them. It was just him.

Feo’s pace quickened as he neared the gate, though the crowd around him remained as tangled and frenzied as before. It was a strange sort of chaos, the kind that felt controlled only by the faintest thread of routine. People jostled against each other, their shoulders brushing and their eyes cast downward, all of them immersed in their own urgent movements. Yet, despite the clamor, there was an almost suffocating silence to it—a quiet desperation in the way they hurried, their gazes far away, focused on destinations that seemed distant and unknown to him. A sense of pressure built, as if the weight of all their anxious energy was being funneled into him, making his every step feel heavier.

As Feo walked, the echo of his own words bounced around in his mind. Kansas. What a stupid thing to say.

His hand, gripping the ticket in his pocket, tightened slightly as he approached the gate. It was lighter now, as though the weight of whatever he’d been holding onto had subtly shifted. The ticket was no longer just a ticket—it had become a symbol of something he wasn’t ready to confront. His fingers brushed the edges of the paper, and it felt as though it might slip right through his grip. It didn’t ease the unease in his chest. The rhythm of his footsteps did little to erase the jittery feeling that clung to him, like a shadow refusing to leave.

Step. Step. Step.

Why did everything have to mean something? Why couldn't anything just be what it was?

He focused on the ground, the motion of his feet, the small, predictable action that gave him something to track in the midst of the overwhelming noise. But it wasn’t enough to keep his mind from spiraling. Still, he walked with purpose, pushing forward because there was no other choice. The gate loomed ahead like a distant shore, and the crowd parted before it as if on cue, but the pull of the place felt cold and unfamiliar, like a place that only existed in motion. And the motion, Feo realized, was endless.

As he neared the gate, he could see the small cluster of travelers gathered in front of it. They were waiting in silence, each of them standing just a little too still, their eyes trained on the boarding signs, their bodies locked in a posture of resignation. There was an eerie certainty in the way they stood, as though they knew exactly where they were going, exactly how they would get there, while he felt lost—adrift in a sea of people with defined futures. They were waiting for something real, and he was waiting for something that never quite made sense.

His eyes flickered upward, scanning the faces of the travelers. They were all so familiar in their anonymity—strangers with expressions that seemed both distant and intimate. He could feel the weight of their stories, untold but heavy in the air. But he couldn’t focus on them. He needed to focus on something else, anything else. His gaze landed on the floor beneath him, tracing the patterns in the tiles, counting the spaces between each one as if they could offer him an anchor. The rhythm of the ground beneath his feet, the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement, was almost soothing.

Step. Step. Step.

He tried to block out the world around him, to force his mind to quiet. It was too much. The buzz of fluorescent lights overhead, the distant hum of announcements, the low murmur of voices weaving together in the air—it all felt so thin, so fragile, like it was just barely holding together. The people moved too quickly for his liking, each of them intent on their next step, their next place. But Feo wasn’t like them. He wasn’t moving toward something definite. He wasn’t even sure where he was heading anymore. He just knew he had to keep walking.

The air around him felt thinner now, suffocating. It wasn’t even the travel itself that bothered him—it was the feeling of being trapped in a loop, like a hamster on a wheel. The world kept turning, spinning faster and faster, but he remained rooted in place, watching as others passed him by. The constant pull of motion, of movement, of everything happening just out of reach—it unsettled him.

He paused at the edge of the crowd, his heart pounding as he fought to steady himself. He needed to focus. He needed to calm down. He inhaled sharply, feeling the cold air burn in his lungs before releasing it slowly, letting it drift out of him. But still, something gnawed at him, a gnawing feeling that wouldn’t let go.

And then, amidst the noise and chaos, his eyes landed on someone. A girl. She stood a few paces ahead, taller than most, with dark, perfectly straight hair that hung down her back in stark contrast to the flickering lights above. She wore a coat in shades of brown, the fabric soft and worn, as though it had been with her for years. Her movements were deliberate, each step taken with an ease that made the rest of the crowd seem almost frantic in comparison. She wasn’t rushing. She wasn’t frantic. She was simply walking, like she had all the time in the world, like she had nowhere to be except where she was.

Feo’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart skipped a beat. There was something so unnervingly familiar about her—something that stopped him in his tracks. His pulse quickened, his mind scrambling to make sense of the recognition that gripped him. Who was she? Why did she look like she belonged to a memory he couldn’t place?

He blinked, his mind racing, but the answer eluded him. She didn’t belong here. She couldn’t belong here. He wasn’t even sure why it mattered. He had never seen her before.

The panic set in quickly. His chest tightened, his hands suddenly clammy. It wasn’t just the recognition that threw him—it was the sudden jolt of fear, of a feeling that everything was off, that everything he thought he knew was slipping through his fingers. Why did she feel so real, and yet so impossible?

He stumbled, his foot catching on the edge of someone’s bag, and he crashed into Lucius. The shock of the collision sent him tumbling to the ground, landing hard against the cold tile floor. For a moment, all he could do was sit there, stunned, the chaos of the crowd swirling around him. His mind buzzed with a hundred different thoughts, none of them making sense. His chest was tight, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

Who was that girl? Why did she startle him so much? What was it about her that made everything feel so wrong?

Feo rubbed his face with shaking hands, pushing himself up off the floor. He stumbled back a few paces, glancing over at Lucius. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him—could feel the tension between them, both from the accident and from something deeper, something he didn’t have the words for.

He stood up straighter, backing away from Lucius, and suddenly, the crowd felt more suffocating than ever. He needed to get away. He needed to stop touching him, both accidentally and on purpose. He needed to stop getting spooked by things that didn’t mean anything.

He looked down at his hands, that were shaking once more, and shoved them into his pockets.

While Lucius had gotten distracted by his reflection and now the crowds, his gaze still flicked back to watch Feo for a few moments. There was something about the way he moved, the way he clutched the ticket in a sort of life-line like matter. There was something there that wasn't... right. It was off, it was wrong, it was flighty.

Why?

Lucius tilted his head to the side, confused at the way he was acting. He had stopped in the pathway, staring at something or someone. Lucius peered over his shoulder, trying to figure out what it was. There were a lot of people, each pacing or making their way through. Some stood at the gates, some called out that planes were boarding--it was all right there.

What was the matter? It wasn't any different from the college campus, was it? It was a lot like the campus dining hall, lines and kids moving around, the chatter and laughter, the calling out of voices.

Things like that.

Lucius hardly had time to think before Feo stumbled on the bag of someone else. He reached forward, missing his arm by a bit before shaking his head. "Sorry, sorry," Lucius waved one hand to the man with the bag, who moved it with his foot and eyed them slightly but he didn't say much more.

Lucius shook his head and turned back to the Nordic demigod to figure out at least somewhat about what was going on with him. If he could at all.

The look was brief and fleeting but he stepped back and stood straighter. There, in his mind was something. There was something that was moving, too fast for him to catch, his hands were shaking.

Lucius reached out, almost hesitating before gripping his arm. His eyes lifted up to look at him. "Look at me," he said firmly, guiding him toward the gates to sit down. "Just look at me. That's all you have to do right now. Look at me, what do you feel? Just--just name four things you can feel. Physically feel."

Lucius urged him, taking in a few steadying breaths. He just needed to have him ground himself and it would all work out. While he wasn't sure what exactly he meant about worrying about screwing things up, Lucius was starting to get an idea.

He was also starting to question how on earth this demigod had gotten his reputation in the first place. They step out of campus one time and he suddenly loses it?

No, there had to be something more behind those eyes that he was hiding and Lucius was going to tear it all apart so that it didn't have to bother him anymore. It sucked at first, it hurt, it burned and ached. But afterwards? It was freeing.

Feo’s breath came in shallow bursts, his mind a storm of confusion. The girl’s face was still burned into his thoughts, a phantom presence that refused to leave him in peace. Every time he closed his eyes, it was as if the world was shifting in some unseen way, some invisible distortion he couldn’t understand. He wasn’t sure if he was still in the airport or if he had somehow stepped into another place entirely, a liminal space where time and reality tangled together in ways he couldn’t make sense of. The crowded terminal, the people rushing around him—they felt distant, foreign. Everything was moving too fast, and Feo could barely keep up.

"Sorry," he muttered to the man, though his words felt hollow, as if they weren’t truly there at all. He straightened, trying to regain his composure. The whole thing felt wrong—everything felt wrong. And it only made him more aware of the way his hands were trembling, the weight of his ticket now almost unbearable in his grip.

Feo glanced back at Lucius, who had been watching him quietly from the edge of his vision. There was something in his gaze, a flicker of concern or maybe confusion, but Feo couldn’t focus long enough to make sense of it. His mind was still buzzing, the static of thoughts swirling too quickly to capture.

He barely noticed when Lucius reached for him, his hand coming down firmly on his arm. The touch sent a ripple of tension through his body, but it was different this time—less like the accidental brushes that had made him pull away before, and more like an anchor, a grounding force that he couldn’t ignore. He looked up, meeting Lucius’s steady gaze, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to focus on something else, something concrete.

Lucius’s voice cut through the chaos in his head. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give Feo a momentary pause. His mind scrambled, trying to grasp at something real, something solid. The air felt thin and cold, and the noise of the airport seemed distant again, muted as if through a fog. The feeling of Lucius’s hand on his arm, the slight pressure, was like a tether to reality, grounding him in a way nothing else had. Feo drew in a shaky breath, trying to slow the storm inside him, to focus on the task at hand.

“Uh…” he began, his voice shaky as he tried to follow the instructions, words coming out of him that he didn’t really latch onto in his head. “I can feel your hand. It’s warm.” His hand was still gripping the ticket, the edges digging into his palm. “And the ticket… it’s rough. It’s paper. Cold. My shoes… they’re too tight.” He shifted slightly, the sensation of the soles pressing against his feet suddenly overwhelming. “And I—my chest. It feels tight. Like there’s not enough air.”

He stopped there, breath still shallow, eyes still flickering between the details of the room and Lucius’s face, as if he could find some sort of answer hidden there. The words, the physical sensations, didn’t ease the discomfort, but they did give him something to focus on. Something to keep him tethered to the now, instead of getting lost in the whirlwind of thoughts and memories that had no place here.

The moments stretched on, and Feo couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was watching him, waiting for him to make a decision, to choose a direction. The girl’s face was still there in the back of his mind, but it was fading, pushed further into the corners by the things Lucius had asked him to feel.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet. And as the minutes passed, Feo’s mind kept racing ahead, chasing after something he couldn’t quite catch, as if the past and the future were closing in on him, threatening to swallow him whole.

He wasn't there. Lucius had a hold on him, like clutching the string of a kite waiting to be torn from his hands the moment he let go. Feo wasn't there, not well enough and Lucius wasn't going to let go of him just yet. As much as he wished that he could unfurl those white wings, this was not the time nor place for them. His plan was shifting slightly. A taxi, a hotel. Then they'd regroup, take a moment to breathe and be there.

That was a slight shift in the plan but it wasn't one that he minded. It was welcome at the least and if Feo asked, it was just a little place to reconvene between checking museums. That was all. He had it in the bag, everything was still in control. Nothing was wrong yet. But if it was wrong, he had a handle on it. It was fine, he had everything under control. Nothing was wrong.

Lucius repeated that internal sentence several times over in his mind as he watched Feo for any sign of anything. Anything at all.

The sapphire eyes that focused on Feo switched between his eyes, scanning his expression. It was getting closer, he was focusing on him rather than whatever had gotten in his mind. Sort of. It was still there like a whirlwind in the back of his head.

"Good--that's good--well, not the air thing. Just ... just..." he struggled to drag the memory from the recesses of his brain, something about a specific way to breathe. He had seen this once, Milo had done it with someone else.

"Slow breaths," Lucius finally said, keeping his gaze on Feo. "I'm still here, I'm not leaving. One breath in and hold and then let it out slowly. What can you see? Two breaths, then an answer," He left the question hanging behind an instruction. If the first one had worked, then this would as well.

Hopefully.

But by the power of deduction and the fact that the first one had worked... he had a lot of hope that this would as well. Lucius still hadn't let go of his arm, a part of him was worried that if he did... Feo would be gone. He'd lose him and that would be a whole mess in and of itself. So he kept a hold on the other young man, just in case.

He wasn't planning on losing him just yet. It was too early to lose him. But good grief, once they were in that hotel room, he was going to give him a serious talking to about worrying and letting go. But it couldn't be easy, Lucius supposed, when one had been used to always being watched. That stupid snake, Lilian--and who knew how tightly his godly parent looked over him. This was probably fairly foreign for him.

For Lucius?

Eh. Another day, another walk in the park.

Feo tried to focus, but the effort felt like trying to grasp water with his bare hands. His mind flickered between fragments of thoughts, memories, and sensations that made no sense. His heart still raced, and the tightness in his chest seemed to tighten with every passing second. He could feel Lucius’s grip on his arm, firm and steady, like a reminder that someone was there, someone was grounding him. The weight of it was both comforting and suffocating, but he couldn’t find the balance between the two.

Slow breaths. The instruction floated through the fog in his mind, threading its way through the chaos. He focused on Lucius’s voice, on the steady cadence, trying to latch onto it. It was the only thing real in this moment, the only thing he could hold onto. He swallowed hard, trying to push past the panic that still gripped him.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

He repeated the motion, the air filling his lungs and then slipping out in slow, measured intervals. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was grounding, even if just for a second. But the feeling of vertigo didn’t dissipate completely. There was still a storm brewing in his mind, a whirlwind of thoughts he couldn’t catch.

Feo blinked, his eyes snapping toward Lucius’s gaze, though everything around them still felt distant. His eyes flicked over the crowd behind him—the blur of people walking, the flickering of lights overhead, the cold tiles beneath his feet. His mind grasped at fragments of the scene, trying to piece it all together. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking for, but the question lingered, urging him to focus.

What could he see? He looked around, forcing himself to take in the details. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead cast long shadows across the floor, and the hum of the airport filled his ears, muffled, distant. People were moving everywhere, their faces set in expressions of quiet purpose. But it all felt like a dream—too sharp and too out of reach at the same time.

“I see... the lights,” he said quietly, his voice trembling a little. “I see the floor... it’s... it’s cold. And... the people. They're moving, but they’re not really... here.”

Feo paused, searching for the right words, trying to give voice to what was happening inside him. But it was hard to articulate. Everything felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit together. His fingers, still clutching the ticket, felt distant now, as if he wasn’t really holding onto it. It was all slipping through his grasp.

“I’m... I’m still here,” he said, more to himself than to Lucius. He wasn’t sure if it was true, if he really was still here, or if he was slipping away into some other place.

The grip on his arm was tight, grounding. But as much as it held him in place, there was still that nagging feeling that he wasn’t fully there, that something was pulling him away.

What was happening? Why couldn’t he just... be here, in this moment, without feeling like he was about to fall through the cracks?

And yet, despite the whirlwind of thoughts, there was something else. A glimmer of clarity, however faint, as he focused on the sound of Lucius’s voice, steady and unwavering, and the feeling of his hand keeping him anchored. The connection, however tenuous, was the only thing that made sense right now.

There was way too much stimulation for Feo to really make sense of any of it. The lights were blinding him, it seemed like people were shouting, and this chair was so uncomfortable that it made him feel forty years older than he really was. Something about it was scratchy, just too rough in a way that made Feo want to burn it. He wanted to burn the entire airport down, if it didn’t stop making him feel so sick.