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Neutral
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Feo listened to Lucius intently, the tension in his shoulders not easing as he tried to process what he was hearing. Golden eyes? Whispers? The Victor's crown? None of it sounded good, and the more Lucius spoke, the tighter Feo’s chest felt. His mismatched eyes flickered over Lucius’s face, scanning him for signs of strain or fear. Lucius might have been pushing through it with his usual dry humor, but Feo could feel the weight of whatever he’d dreamed. - When Lucius mentioned the kid of Nike—or Victoria, as her Roman counterpart—Feo’s brow furrowed. "A winged kid and a being of light..." he repeated under his breath, his mind already racing. Victory and light didn’t immediately match up with any god or demigod he could think of, but the way Lucius described it sounded significant. And dangerous. Golden eyes, he thought grimly. That woman? Or someone worse? - As Lucius moved closer, his sapphire eyes filled with concern, Feo felt his resolve falter. He didn’t want to admit how much seeing that woman had shaken him. Didn’t want to admit how powerless he’d felt as she’d smiled up at him like she knew every move he’d make before he made it. But when Lucius reached for him, holding him steady with his soft but firm grip, Feo couldn’t lie—not to him. - He nodded stiffly, swallowing hard as he glanced back toward the window. "Yeah," he murmured. "She was there. Just standing on the street like she didn’t have a care in the world. And then she... she looked right at me. Like she knew I’d be there, looking for her. And when I blinked, she was gone." His voice wavered slightly, and he clenched his hands into fists to stop them from trembling. "I don’t know if she saw me leave earlier, if she followed me, or if she’s just been... watching. But it’s not normal, Lucius. She’s too calm, too confident." - Feo stiffened at Lucius’s grumbled threat about knocking the woman’s teeth out, but a small, dry chuckle escaped him despite himself. "You’re not going to let this go, are you?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "I mean, I’d love to see her reaction if you tried, but... I don’t think she’s the type to scare off easily. She wants something, and until we figure out what that is..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "We need to be smart about this." - When Lucius flopped back onto the bed with a groan, spreading his wings dramatically and shooting Feo a look that practically demanded come over here, Feo hesitated. He felt the familiar tug to join him, to let himself relax even for a moment. But his instincts screamed at him to stay alert, to keep watch at the window or stand guard at the door. - Still, the sight of Lucius burying his face in his arms, his voice tinged with exhaustion and frustration, made Feo relent. He pushed himself in closer until he was pressed into Lucius's side, which was certainly not enough, so he rolled over and draped his left arm over his chest, putting one of his legs over Lucius's, and placing his chin just below his shoulder. looking up at him. - "You’re blaming her for you being awake?" Feo asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I mean, technically, I’m the one who startled you awake, so you could blame me instead. But I’d rather not get hit with a ‘cease to exist notice.’" His tone was light, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear. - Feo glanced down at Lucius, his hand brushing lightly against his feathers. "By the gods, I'll kill everything that's hurting you," he said softly. "The dream, her, all of it. I'll stab it all to death." He sighed. "For now..." He shifted slightly, letting his other arm rest lightly around Lucius’s shoulders, both of his hands meeting, their fingers interlocking. "If you want to sleep, sleep. I’ll keep watch. I’ll make sure nothing happens." - Even as he spoke, Feo’s gaze flickered back to the window, his thoughts racing. He didn’t know what game the woman was playing or how much she already knew. But whatever was coming, Feo knew one thing for sure: he’d do whatever it took to protect Lucius, no matter what. |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius should've known. He should have figured out that she'd be right there, waiting and watching them. She felt dangerous and he knew it. He just wasn't sure why or what she was doing. Why she was scoping it out, what she wanted or, if their theories were even correct. Which was probably a bit more worrisome thought than the other thoughts he had before. It was the 'what did she want' one that was the most important out of all of his thoughts. But that was dulled in a dreary fog of half-lucid half-awake mess of cobwebs in his brain. "No, I'm not going to let it go," he grumbled firmly. "She is ruining our plans, getting in the way of getting to Florida and the warm beaches. She's getting in the way of learning how mortals live and--AND, mind you, she's nothing but trouble. I'm not going to let it go. Plus, because she startled you, I got woken up and I am absolutely blaming her. What if I needed to hear more from that dream and I'll never hear it now because she messed it up?" Lucius huffed lightly, resting his head against Feo's chest. The least he could do was tell her to piss off--meet them back at campus. But then again, that was probably one of those 'dumb ideas' that he had. It was certainly fueled by a lack of real solid sleep. "... no, I don't think I can actually get back to sleep," Lucius grumbled into his chest with a small sigh. It was nice, settling in his arms. But now, with the threat of the woman looming over his head, he couldn't really get to sleep again. His heart rate was picking up, racing in his chest. It brought adrenaline with it and the fog of sleep evaporated from his mind. It was a bit slow of a process but the thoughts were churning in his head now. How much did she actually know? What did she really want? Why them? That was probably the more important question. Of all the demigods in the world, of all the people out there, why was she trailing them? That didn't make much sense. "... we could probably figure out what all needs to be tailored," Lucius finally relented, sitting back up. "I'm sure there's a repair kit somewhere in here. I think most places have one..." He dragged himself from the bed, toward the closet and began digging through the drawers of the night stands once he finished with the closet. "... yeah, here we go. It's not much but it should be enough to do at least a couple pieces. Pick out what you want to wear and then we can fit it to you after," he pushed one hand through his golden hair with a loose sigh. He never had gotten around to getting dream-catcher stuff. But, hey, at the same time, Feo had no clue he had the wrap on either. That as good. "Honestly, I'd say start with a pair of pants. You can kind of hide your boots with longer pants and blend in that way," not that it mattered, the cynical part of him stated, she'd find out anyways. But if it made him feel better... it was worth it. |
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Neutral
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Feo stayed sitting on the bed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he watched Lucius pull himself upright and begin moving around the room. The warmth of Lucius’s head against his chest had been a small comfort, something grounding in the middle of the whirlwind of unease swirling in his head. But now it was gone, and the space where Lucius had been resting felt almost cold. - He frowned, glancing toward the window again as his mismatched eyes flicked over the street below. It was quiet now, devoid of any sign of the woman—or anyone, for that matter—but that didn’t make him feel better. If anything, it made him feel worse. Her absence was just as unnerving as her presence. - Feo’s gaze drifted back to Lucius as he rummaged through the closet, then the nightstands, the soft shuffle of his movements filling the otherwise silent room. He felt the urge to get up, to join him, to help—or at least pretend to. But his body felt heavy, and he stayed where he was, one hand gripping the edge of the bed as his other rested idly on his knee. He wasn’t ready to leave the warmth of the bed just yet. - “Lucius,” he called softly, his voice lower than usual, tinged with weariness. His eyes lingered on the blond demigod’s back as he pushed his hair from his face. “You know... you could’ve stayed. We don’t have to do all this right now.” His voice wasn’t chiding—more resigned, with a hint of sadness. He leaned back slightly, resting on his hands, his gaze wandering back toward the window. “She’s not gonna come crashing through the door tonight. I mean, I don’t think she will. She seems more like the stalking type. So...” - That was an absolute lie. But keeping watch would have been much more reassurring if Lucius was curled up against him, rather than having to stand by the window and be cold in air that was definitely not cold at all. Feo's paranoia was getting the better of him, and if Lucius did decide to lay back down, Feo knew he wouldn't get a wink of sleep. He didn't want to. Well, he couldn't. He had to stay awake for him. To protect him. - Feo hesitated, his hand flexing slightly against the mattress. He wanted to reach out, to tell Lucius to come back to bed, to stop worrying about the tailoring or whatever plans they thought they could make in the middle of the night. But he didn’t want to say it out loud, didn’t want to seem like he was clinging too much—or worse, that he was afraid. - Instead, he let out a long sigh and tilted his head toward the ceiling, his dark hair falling back as he closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re probably right about the pants, though,” he muttered after a pause, his voice softer now, almost distracted. “Longer ones would work. Something that doesn’t stand out too much. I could probably manage that.” - But even as he said it, Feo stayed rooted in place, his body unmoving save for the slow rise and fall of his chest. He wanted to shake off the tension coiled in his muscles, wanted to find some semblance of calm. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—those blue eyes, that smile. - When he finally opened them again, he turned his head to glance at Lucius, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles despite the turmoil in his mind. “You’re really not gonna let me just sit here and sulk, are you?” He tried to keep his tone light, but it came out a little shaky, betraying his unease. “Fine. Pick me something. I’ll wear whatever you think works. I trust your judgment.” - But Feo stayed where he was, reluctant to leave the bed and the lingering warmth of where Lucius had been. He tried to ignore the feeling of vulnerability creeping in, tried to tell himself that they were safe here. - Feo never really felt safe anywhere. |
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Lightbringer
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The blond Greek glanced back toward the demigod on the bed for a few moments. He could've stayed. But it wouldn't have done much for him. The rush of emotions was tangling together, locked in a dangerous sort of dance. Panic, frustration, something more occasionally too. There wasn't much that he could really say or do that would change it. Which was part of the problem. He wanted to believe she wouldn't come barging in. But seeing as she had come so close to the café and their hotel room? He knew it was inevitable at this point. She was going to be coming in one way or another, sooner or later. Lucius crossed the bedroom again, grabbing the bow from the mattress--where it had been hidden under his wings--and pressed a soft kiss to Feo's temple. "It's alright. You can stay there, on the bed. It's just... if I don't do something--distract myself somehow--it's all going to start all over again," his hand brushed through Feo's hair for a brief moment or two before stepping back to the suitcase. With the bow in hand, he began to test the different pockets of each of the pants. While he was fairly certain that Feo wouldn't need deeper pockets, Lucius sure did. If he found one that fit the bow comfortably, he set the pair aside. The plan was to switch pockets between his pairs and these pairs. "Once you're feeling up to it," Lucius gestured to the other pile beside him. "Try these ones on. You'll have to let me know how they fit and feel, I can't do much fabric-wise but inseam and waist I can somewhat adjust--and if nothing else, we can always find a belt." He didn't bother much with the shirts. If nothing else, they could get a shirt band--or make one--and adjust the sleeves that way. They weren't real popular anymore but there were some still around. Or you could just roll your sleeves up. It wasn't really a big deal all in all. His eyes flicked to the window and then back to what he was doing. "This is the try-on pile. This pile," he gestured to the other side of him, "has pockets that fit the bow. I'm going to be taking these pockets and putting them on my pants. The bow is a bit bigger than your knives which means you won't need pockets as deep. Not that you'll put them in pockets anyways. But it's there." He pushed one hand through his hair again, tousling the golden locks. "But you don't have to move yet, if you don't want to. I've got to get to work on removing the pockets to begin with. Take your time," he waved one hand lightly. Ideally, he'd be picking the stitches at the top of the pockets and then using those as a guideline to sew them onto the other pairs of pants. It would be time consuming, inevitably. |
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Neutral
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Feo stayed seated on the bed, his gaze following Lucius as he moved about the room, his motions precise but a little hurried. He leaned back slightly, propping himself up with one arm while the other draped lazily across his knee. The gentle kiss to his temple, the soothing brush of Lucius’s fingers through his hair, left a faint warmth in their wake, but Feo couldn’t quite bring himself to fully relax. - His eyes flickered to the bow in Lucius’s hand, then to the window, and back again. He could see the tension coiled in the Greek demigod’s shoulders, the way his hands worked quickly, almost like he was trying to outrun his own thoughts. - “Take your time, huh?” Feo murmured softly, a faint, humorless smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re telling me that when you’re over there about to dissect a dozen pairs of pants like it’s some kind of battle plan.” - Despite his words, he didn’t make any move to get up. The mattress beneath him still held Lucius’s warmth, and he found himself reluctant to leave it. His mind felt heavy, weighed down by thoughts of the woman and the countless unknowns surrounding her. Who was she, really? What did she want? How much did she know about them? - His fingers drummed idly against his knee as he let out a slow breath, trying to shake the unease curling in his chest. “You know, I’m not sure what’s more impressive—your ability to focus on pocket logistics right now or the fact that you’ve already decided to Frankenstein your own pants instead of just... finding some that fit.” - Feo’s smirk softened into something more genuine, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He shifted slightly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. “You’re not wrong, though. The knives... they’re not really pocket material,” he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “I’ve always just kept them on me—strapped to my thighs or tucked under my belt. Feels weird not to have them there.” - He glanced back up at Lucius, watching him work for a moment before tilting his head slightly. “You sure you don’t want me to help? I mean, I’m not exactly the tailoring type, but I’m good with my hands.” His lips twitched upward briefly at his own words before the smirk faded again. “Or are you gonna insist I sit here and... rest? Do nothing but throw pants on and off to see if they fit?" - His tone was light, but there was a hint of something else beneath it—something that betrayed the restless energy thrumming under his skin. Feo didn’t want to sit still, didn’t want to let his thoughts linger on the woman or the nagging feeling of being watched. - He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes drifting to the window once more. The faint glow of streetlights outside cast long shadows across the room, and for a moment, he thought he saw something move in the darkness beyond the glass. But when he blinked and looked again, there was nothing there. - Feo’s fingers curled into loose fists against his thighs as he let out a quiet sigh. “You know,” he said after a pause, his voice low, “if she does come back... she’s gonna regret it.” His eyes glinted with a sharp edge as he looked back at Lucius. “I don’t care who she is or what she wants. She’s not getting to you. Not while I’m here.” - The weight behind his words was heavy, almost tangible, and Feo’s expression hardened for a brief moment before he shook his head, letting some of the tension ease from his features. “Anyway... I guess I’ll let you do your thing. But don’t think I’m just gonna sit here all night.” - Suddenly, Feo locked up. - His body went rigid, every muscle tensing as the soft, eerie sound of giggling floated through the air. It wasn’t close, but it wasn’t far either. It sent a cold shiver racing down his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. - His eyes darted toward the window, his breath catching in his throat. He strained to see through the faint glow of streetlights and the shadows beyond, but the glass reflected only the faint silhouette of the room behind him. - The giggling came again—faint, playful, and far too deliberate. Feo’s heart hammered in his chest, his fists clenching tightly as his gaze flicked toward the door. His mind raced, a thousand scenarios spinning through his thoughts, each more unsettling than the last. - Slowly, he pushed himself off the bed, his movements careful, quiet. The sound didn’t repeat, but the echo of it lingered in his ears, gnawing at his nerves. He glanced toward Lucius, hoping he was okay, hoping the noise was just in his head like it always was. - Feo swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. His hand drifted toward his side, where his knives still rested. The absence of their familiar weight only added to his unease. - His voice, when he spoke, was low and tight. “Did you... hear that?” - The question hung in the air, heavy with tension, as Feo’s eyes scanned the room, the window, the door. He took a cautious step forward, his body coiled like a spring, ready to react at a moment’s notice. |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius shook his head lightly a faint smile pulling the edges of his lips upward as well. His eyes flicked toward Feo for a moment, studying the demigod on the bed. "Finding some that fit means going out there and, quite frankly, I don't feel like getting potentially arrested for assault--or, facing who knows what. Besides, why spend money when I can just not? We've got pants right here, I might as well just use them. You've spent so much already, I don't want to let anything go to waste." Lucius glanced back toward his hands as he began to pull one pair inside out to get to the pockets. His sapphire eyes looked up toward Feo again. "That's... that's really sweet, Feo. But I doubt she's really here for me. I'm not exactly anything special--and I don't mean that in a self-depreciating way. It's just the truth. I just have wings. You're the one with the godly power--a fourth-tier celestian, if I recall correctly. I ... don't even think I managed to get on the register at all. But that's alright. I don't mind. Sometimes, you don't need to control the weather, the skies or seas. Sometimes, all you need is to be yourself." His fingers lifted the seam ripper, piecing through one of the pants pockets. Something was ruffling his feathers again and he wasn't sure he enjoyed it. His heart felt like it was racing, his chest swam with the tingling of anxiety that spread across his ribs. Something had overlayed his words but he was desperately hoping it wasn't what he had thought it was. Feo had stood up from the bed but hadn't moved much. Lucius focused on the task at hand, while his mind swirled with uncertain thoughts. Giggling. The laughter, deliberate and almost teasing. It wasn't his. It wasn't ... it was too clear to be from an adjacent room. "... y'know, I was really hoping that I was just hearing things," Lucius admitted, not looking up from the pants he was currently destroying. "I honestly, really, hoped that I was just hearing things. I did not want to ... admit it. So y'know what? I'm going to ignore it. Maybe if I act like it's not there, nothing will be there. Y'know?" It was a rather poor ruse. But at the same time it was something. "I'm just going to keep going on these pockets and ignore whatever that was. I didn't hear a thing," Lucius stated with a small shake of his head, picking at the pants again. "We've got knives, the gun, the bow, if something does happen, I've got the wrap--but right now... nothing happened. I'm just hearing things... it's my imagination." |
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Neutral
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Feo’s eyes narrowed, his senses sharpening as his mind continued to race. He could feel the tension growing in the room, like the air itself was thickening. The laughter, too faint to be real but too distinct to be ignored, stirred something deep within him—a warning, an instinct. He stood still for a moment, waiting, listening. The sound, that unnatural, playful giggling, felt wrong. It was like it was coming from somewhere... inside the room. But that couldn’t be possible, could it? - Lucius’s nonchalant dismissal didn’t convince him. Feo's instincts, honed over years of being pursued, constantly watching his back, told him otherwise. The faintest rustling of movement at the corner of his vision—a shift in the air, something just on the edge of perception—had him turning toward the window, scanning the darkness outside. Nothing. - Still, the feeling lingered. The kind of unease that clawed at him, urging him to do something. - "I don’t know if that’s a good idea..." Feo muttered, his voice lower now, careful. "Ignoring things doesn’t make them go away. Sometimes, it just makes them worse." - His fingers tightened around the edge of the bed frame, his gaze flicking back to Lucius, then to the door, then to the window. "We’re not alone, Lucius. She’s out there, I can feel it." His chest tightened, not with fear but with that unmistakable sense of being pursued, a hunter’s instinct that never truly left him. - Feo took a deep breath, then turned back to Lucius, his voice softer this time but carrying the weight of experience. "We need to be ready, just in case. Trust me. I’ve been through this kind of thing before." His gaze shifted to the weapons they had around—knives on Feo's hip, the bow with Lucius, the gun—and the wrap, which he didn't see. - The wrap. Feo’s hand drifted to the back of his neck, his eyes flickering over Lucius's form. Where had he put it? Why wasn't it with their things? Had he gotten hurt, and was wearing it? - "Lulu, where is the wrap?" He asked quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness that he just couldn't supress. The recent events with the woman had him on edge, let alone the idea that Lucius might have managed to get himself hurt bad enough in the short time that Feo was gone to feel the need to use the wraps. - "I don’t want to wait for her to show up," Feo said, shifting his focus back to the looming problem, his tone quiet but firm. He moved closer to Lucius, watching him carefully. "We’re both on edge, and I think that’s exactly what she wants." - With that, Feo started toward the window, his hand hovering near the curtain as his eyes scanned the street below. "I’ll keep an eye out," he said. "But don’t... don’t ignore what’s happening, okay? We can’t afford to." - He stood still for a moment, a long breath escaping his lungs as his senses stretched, alert to every whisper of the wind, every flicker of shadow. It wasn’t paranoia—it was survival. And right now, they needed to survive. |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius took in a breath and let it out again. The ensuing rise of panic in his chest was almost suffocating. But he kept himself calm. "Well, unfortunately, I can't exactly do much at the moment," he replied calmly, "the whole... fight thing isn't exactly my forte..." He took in a deep breath again and shook his head, tossing golden hair. "She's out there, sure. But right now, she wants us on edge--like you said. So I'm going to act like I'm not on edge and focus on the task at hand. If I'm confident enough, then it'll do something--" He paused for a brief moment before sighing. Ahh... right. The wrap. That thought had the winged demigod pausing his task to look up at Feo. His sapphire eyes watched him move toward the window, watching the street below. "I'm wearing it," Lucius replied confidently, tapping his arm. "It's ... it feels safer if it's not in my pockets. I feel ... I dunno, if someone were to try and y'know, have us empty our pockets... we don't have to try and haggle to get it back. It just won't be in there." Lucius ruffled his feathers once more and settled down. He wasn't going to lie, there was an itching inching thought that was slowly picking at his brain. The woman had vibrant blue eyes, dark hair... "It could also, hear me out, be that whatever she is... isn't dangerous?" Lucius set the amputated pocket to the side, reaching for another pair of pants to take apart. "Hear me out, I know. But, she does look a lot like you--barring the green eyes--and, while I don't know much... what I do know is that you mostly stuck around Loki. ... it... she could be a relative?" He realized he sounded absolutely insane the moment it left his mouth but he kept yapping. Lucius couldn't ... not. He was nervous and that meant trying to do things to quell that nervousness and right at that moment, it was talking and picking pocket seams. "I know, I know. But, to be fair, she hasn't exactly attacked us yet. We're probably on edge from the whole Atlas thing... and the collector--that guy was weird," he pulled the seams apart with little effort, tearing through the threads. "She could be looking for the collector too and just needs help. Or she could be working for him and making sure we aren't doing anything too terribly stupid. Just because she's mythical doesn't mean she's bad." The latter part was likely more for Lucius himself than Feo. It sounded a lot like a personal reassurance that just because his feathers were ruffling didn't mean that it was bad or dangerous. |
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Neutral
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Feo’s body went rigid as the words left Lucius’s mouth. His muscles locked tight, his jaw clenched, and his eyes flicked toward Lucius, but it wasn’t the calm, steady gaze that had been there a moment ago. No. It was a flash of something raw and unfiltered. Anger, pain, and disbelief swirled in his eyes, his lips curling back into something resembling a snarl. - “She's dead,” Feo said through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous, as though the words themselves could cut through the air with the force of his anger. He took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides, every part of him bristling. The air around him seemed to thicken, his frustration leaking out of him in waves. - Lucius's suggestion about the woman possibly being a relative—someone connected to him in some way—struck a nerve so deep it felt like a physical blow. He could feel his heart racing, blood rushing to his face, as his mind worked overtime, trying to comprehend the idea that anyone from his past could still be alive, let alone someone who might look like him. The very thought felt like a betrayal. - His mother, the second person who had ever mattered to him, had been ripped from his life years ago, and for so long he had carried the weight of her absence, even after barely even meeting her. She had died, taken from him by forces far more powerful than he could have ever understood at the time. She was gone. And now, this stranger, this woman with the audacity to look like her, to act like his mother—Ha! She was alive!? The mere suggestion sent waves of fury crashing through him. - He wasn’t even sure where the anger was coming from. Maybe it was the frustration of losing control, maybe it was the lingering grief he had buried deep down for years, but whatever it was, it was spilling out of him, unfiltered and furious. - "No," he snapped, shaking his head violently, as if the very thought of it was repulsive. "No one else. No one from that side of me is alive. No one is left." His voice cracked, but only briefly before it hardened again. The very thought of someone, anyone, who could still be alive and connected to him was like a sickness in his chest. - “She’s been dead for forever,” Feo continued, his voice gaining strength with each word, his hands trembling with the force of his emotions. “I saw her die. I watched her die. She’s gone, Lucius. There’s no coming back from that. No relative... no family... she’s just some damn enemy now.” - The anger in his chest flared hotter as he turned toward Lucius, his green-blue eyes wide with fury. His fists were still clenched, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. He didn’t want to feel like this. He didn’t want to let this woman—whoever she was—get under his skin like this. But it was happening anyway. - He took another step toward Lucius, his breathing shallow as the words continued to pour out of him, forced out by a mixture of disbelief and rage. “You have to understand, Lulu," Feo continued, his voice tight, barely able to contain the intensity behind it. "My mother... she’s gone. She was killed. I saw it. I felt it. There’s no coming back from that. So don’t tell me she’s a relative, don’t try to convince me that... that someone from that bloodline is still out there. I’ll never believe that.” - A flash of grief crossed his face, but it was quickly pushed down by the overwhelming anger that had consumed him. Feo couldn't allow himself to go there, not now. The grief was too much to bear. - The silence stretched between them, suffocating and thick. Feo couldn’t stay still anymore, so he turned away from Lucius, his fingers running through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. His heart was hammering, his mind a blur of conflicting emotions—grief, anger, disbelief. - He moved away, pacing back and forth, his mind reeling. The thought of the woman—someone who resembled him, who might be connected to him—was unbearable. He felt like he was suffocating in it. - “She’s not my family, Lucius," Feo muttered under his breath, as if trying to convince himself more than anyone else. "She's just some damn threat. Nothing more.” - Feo’s words hung heavy in the air as he stopped, turning to face Lucius again, his eyes still blazing with anger. “And if she comes anywhere near us? She’s dead, just like the people she's mimicking.” - The certainty in his voice was chilling, a dangerous promise that Feo didn’t make lightly. He wasn’t about to let some stranger—no matter how closely she resembled him—come between them. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Not after everything he had lost. Not after everything he had fought for. - Feo stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling with the intensity of his breathing, before he turned and paced back again, trying to force the emotions back down. He couldn’t let them get the better of him. Not now. Not with everything else on the line. - He paused again, seeming to realize his words. He stared at the floor. How could he? Stupid vow. He was never going to change, was he? - Feo turned around, walking up to Lucius, the nervous energy returning. "I'm.. sorry," he whispered. |
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Lightbringer
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Sure, Lucius had seen him get angry before.... at other people. But even when he had gotten angry with him, it wasn't like this vibrant rolling anger that washed off of Feo like waves of fiery ocean water. This--that was not the reaction that he was expecting at all and he hadn't realized he had struck something he shouldn't have. The pants and pockets were slowly set down as Feo stepped forward. The air around him was thick and almost suffocating. But Lucius kept himself somewhat calm. It was... it was fine. He was still okay. He wasn't hurt-- "Then--it could be a mimc of sorts--" he whispered quietly, swallowing thickly. Though he wasn't sure if mimics could... actually think. That was questionable. But the damage was done, clearly. The flushed color in Feo's face was not from embarrassment or flustered feelings. That was the red hot blaze of fury. The type that had Lucius worried. His mind was reeling, scanning for anything he could do to sway the anger and rage. But there was nothing. He had slipped down a slope he hadn't realized was there and now it was gaining speed and he wasn't sure what was at the bottom. Slowly, Lucius scooted back as Feo stepped forward. While it made sense to the winged demigod finally, why the woman's appearance would have shaken him up so much, Lucius still wasn't sure what to do about it. This wasn't grief, heavy and raw. This was anger, blazing, hot, volatile. He had to keep his own head, not lose himself in his own memories. He had to stay calm. A twist in his chest squeezed his heart. Feo had been through so much and Lucius should have known better--but still... to see him like this... it was terrifying. He couldn't lie. Lucius followed Feo's pacing with sapphire eyes, swallowing thickly. But he didn't say a single thing, he couldn't risk anything else. Old habits died hard and now he was slipping into a slight survival mode. Silent, unmoving, emotionless. Give nothing that could infuriate them further. A threat. That was for sure. A threat indeed. A threat to everything they had gotten to do so far. A threat to their plans. They should have been on a train to Hutchinson, on a plane, headed to Florida--or even back to campus to burn Loki's things. As blazing eyes turned to him again, Lucius flinched. One hand came up to his face, a slow and heavy sigh escaping from his nose. That... that was not what he was supposed to do. He wasn't supposed to do anything--and then he had gone and flinched. That was a real smart move. But his curiosity burned in his chest. Was it really a mimc? Someone else? "... it's fine," Lucius responded quietly and let out a slow breath. "... but before you kill her, I want some answers. I at least want to know what she is, where she came from, who sent her--that sort of stuff. I'm a nosy bird, what can I say?" He fished for a weary smile, shrugging lightly. |
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Fall Month: 1 
Night 
Heavy Rain Moon: 
