The crowd that pieced around them wasn't terribly unusual for a college orientation day. After all, it was full of bright-eyed adults that had visions and plans for the future. Naturally, however, some tension was rising in the mass amount of people. Some of them were far less eager to be there than others were. That was the nature of how things went. There wasn't a "good" or a bad reason for it, just that was how it was.

Milo opened and closed his mouth for a few moments before setting his hands on his hips and tilting his head to the side. A slow sigh escaped as he shook his head and rolled his brown eyes, looking over the golden haired demigod in front of him. He still had no idea, did he? No clue. It was all still a game to him instead of real. Milo cared--perhaps too much--to let him get hurt like this. But how could he help when his friend wasn't listening to a word he said? If he did listen, it wasn't seriously. It was half-heartedly.

Milo's mouth opened again, readying a sentence on his lips when he found himself interrupted by another being.

Lucius swept his own sapphire gaze to land on the newcomer. This young woman had deep eyes like the sea, blue hair--he wondered briefly if that was the same hair he had seen before.

"Lucius," he turned to face her, his shoulders swiveling to the side. "That's correct."

Lucius confirmed her question with a rather warm smile. "I hope there's nothing wrong...?"

Milo, inwardly, chuckled. Of course the first thing he would ask was if something was wrong. Heaven forbid he actually just be aloof, or open or anything. He leaned back just slightly, studying the way she looked. The way she carried herself was only slightly familiar to him, in a vague sort of 'he had seen her once or twice or maybe on occasion' but they hadn't really interacted. Her tone gave him the note that she was likely a neutral-aligned demigod.

While his initial guess was more than the young woman was a demigod of a sea or water deity, the hair could be misgiving. However, he was almost certain that he had seen her messing with the dark-aligned students.

While he couldn't be certain, Milo determined that he would stick around. Just in case. After yesterday's incident, he couldn't be too careful. He knew full well what carelessness did, where it led one to end up and it wasn't pretty. But hey, maybe if he stuck around the light-aligned students he would be more or less shielded from most of the fighting and the worst of it. Not that he was exempt but hopefully, it'd be a deterrent.

The small smile that the woman returned to the much more fond and warm smile that Lucius wore was at least somewhat relieving. She was gentle and spoke deliberately. As she looked up, Lucius couldn't hide a brief and subtle eye-roll. Dark-aligned. He just had to stifle his actual feelings for this whole thing long enough to just graduate and get out. He stifled the look when she looked down and chuckled wearily.

"Well, if it wasn't a down jacket or feather pillow, I can't say I really do know," Lucius went for more of a loose and care-free response to the woman's question. "I'm still new to this whole thing," he waved his hand, back and forth for a few moments--more of an uncertain line back and forth.

"What I am, however, is grateful that he was kind enough to spare me from the other people," Lucius spoke lightly and glanced toward Milo as well. "I'm not entirely sure why this whole thing matters so much, if I'm honest with myself. We're just here to learn right?"

Milo shook his head, giving Lilian a small glimpse into his weariness after Lucius finished speaking. A large amount of his tension was tied to this unruly being right there. He just refused to understand the gravity of the situation and he wasn't sure how to help him.

"Do I--?" He tilted his head before letting out a weary noise. "Hang--hang on, it was Asrifeon that...?" the disbelief that coated the demigod's tone twisted his voice. Lucius definitely wouldn't have known about that but Milo knew that reputation. He knew that name, the reputation that went with it and the way he had steered clear of that demigod for almost three years now.

"I don't know them personally, no," Milo responded tightly, "but I know the reputation that follows him like a shadow. You mean to tell me that ... *that* demigod was the one that decided to take out the other guy?"

"Why does it matter?" Lucius jumped in, mostly out of confusion. "It's not like it matters--"

"If he decides that you," Milo turned on him, jabbing his finger into his chest, "owe him? What are you gonna do then?"

Lucius shrugged lightly and shook his head before huffing. "Figure out what he wants, come up with a compromise or just ... stay out of his hair?"

Milo looked back toward Lilian with a dry sigh. There was no helping this young man, clearly. His expression was a mixture of subtle exhaustion and a tinier plea of help.

He knew how to fix things, he could create machines, he could invent things and see it in his mind. Figuring out how to fix his friend's mindset was not his forte of expertise in the slightest.

The idea that somehow this demigod had a reputation that was more than just the 'college bully' was hard for Lucius to believe. He still wasn't sure this wasn't just some gigantic game. It felt stupid, it felt childish and at that current moment, he wondered if there was still time to transfer his credits to another school and just come for the flight education class. It couldn't hurt, right?

The mortals either didn't notice or didn't seem to care that he had wings. He wasn't sure what kind of magic was at play but he wasn't going to question it either.

Milo was still whispering to him about something not that Lucius had paid much attention to what he had said. There was mostly a bunch of his head nodding occasionally, shaking lightly--mostly on autopilot. It wasn't until Lilian broke the silence that his sapphire eyes lifted up to the demigod.

It was unlike him--a choice. Lucius stifled a small sigh. Of course it was a choice--everything was a choice. A reflex in that situation would've been to shove him to the floor for running into him. Tell him off, something about being careful in the library. That sort of thing. This? This was also a choice and Lucius was definitely questioning how much it would cost him to transfer his credits.

"Right," Lucius said slowly, keeping his tone slightly light. "Well--"

Oh, Feo would survive another conversation. With the way Milo looked, Lucius had to doubt if they would. He shook his head lightly, only slightly amused. Uncomfortable for him. What about them? Oh--friendship? Wasn't that wrong? Zephyrus was a light-aligned god, not that Lucius particularly cared too much but either way... that sounded like a bad idea.

Milo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the proposition. His arms crossed over his chest, shaking some brown hair from his face.

"Hang on," Milo finally spoke, his voice dry and full of distaste, "you're acting like this is some choice that we're somehow supposed to be just oh-so grateful for. Oh, yes, please," he threw his hand up in some sort of theatrics, "let me just grovel at the feet of the great Asrifeon because suddenly he wants something. Friends? Yeah, sur--" Milo's tirade was cut short with a sharp elbow to the ribs, Lucius gave him a sharper sapphire eyed look before turning to Lilian again.

Lucius glanced down to his wrist, looking at the time. "We've got a good half hour before my orientation starts, if he wants to talk--" the words he said didn't match the tone, implying that if she wanted to make him talk now... it was as good a time as any other, "we have nothing better to do. Is there a better place to do so or should we just chatter out here in the open?" His feathers ruffled lightly, keeping his gaze light and his tone loose.

Milo shook his head lightly. This... this was pure madness. That's exactly what this was.

Milo gave Lilian a sharper look. "I know what he has done," his words were sharp and tight, "but I also know that Lucius is not about to take this seriously in the slightest. I am not the one who is underestimating anyone--"

"Clearly," Lucius rolled his eyes, "you're overestimating them. Good grief. You act like this is some sort of war! Demigod of Loki, Hephaestus, Zeus--good grief, who cares?" A touch of his irritation slipped through as his feathers ruffled. "I'm not here to fight about who's light and who's dark, you know what I'm here for? A degree."

He looked between the two neutrals, unable to hide his own frustration. "If he wants to talk, fine. I'll meet him out by the gardens. But I swear to Hera, if I hear any more of this garbage about light and dark, I will leave."

Milo watched the young man spread his wings, taking off into the air with his mouth hanging open.

"He's going to get himself killed. Sweet Artemis, he's trying to get himself absolutely obliterated," Milo pushed one hand through his brown hair. "I know that we shouldn't provoke them, I know that. I'm not worried about myself, that is exactly what I'm worried about. He's... ugh," he paced in a small circle to try and regulate his thoughts. "I've tried, I have tried everything I can think of to get him to understand that this is serious and he just won't... listen," he waved his hand.

"And now he's got the attention of Asrifeon. Lovely... I might as well just start planning a funeral now. I mean, it's not a bad mindset to become a teacher but it's bad now because he has no clue what he's getting into. And I don't know how to help him anymore," Milo's tone swept into a quiet sigh.

-

The bright white feathers caught the air with a long swirl, soaring upward with a small huff. How on earth was he supposed to pay attention to class when he had those two--three apparently--chattering in his ear. If anything, he had a feeling that the other demigod likely wanted to apologize for the strange encounter the day before. Not that it was terrible, Lucius didn't mind it. In fact, he would likely apologize himself. It was a rather rude situation to put him into and he had startled the poor demigod.

The demigod of Loki likely didn't interact much with others--especially not Lucius. But they acted like he was some sort of king--or maybe a Duke of sorts. Which he highly doubted.

Gods didn't particularly care about lineage most of the time. Otherwise, there would be a mass amount of 'princes' and 'princesses' or the likes running around. If they survived that long, the beasts and creatures that still roamed the earth had a rather adept nose for demigods.

His sapphire eyes swept down, spotting the gardens as he lowered, landing lightly on the grass with a few sweeps of his wings.

She paused, studying Milo’s expression for a moment. The tension between them hung heavy in the air. Then, almost as if to lighten the weight of her previous statement, she took a step back and added, with a wry tilt of her head, "Don’t start planning any funerals, alright?"

Without waiting for a response, she pivoted on her heel, her dark cloak billowing slightly as she strode purposefully toward the third-year wing.

When Lilian reached the dormitories, it wasn’t hard to find Feo. His door stood ajar, an unusual sight in itself, and she caught a glimpse of him inside, staring into the mirror.

Wearing Lucius’s face.

"Azzy," she called softly, her voice steady and soothing, as if trying to tame a wild animal. She stepped inside, leaning lightly against the doorframe. "What are you doing?"

Feo didn’t turn to face her. His reflection in the mirror remained eerily still, his eyes locked onto the illusion of Lucius’s features. "Dwelling," he growled, his tone low and laced with frustration. "What do you want?"

Lilian folded her arms across her chest, unshaken by his rough demeanor. "The boy," she said evenly, "is willing to meet with you. He wants to discuss the events of yesterday."

At her words, Feo’s body stiffened, and the illusion flickered, his true form returning as if peeled away by his sudden focus. He turned toward her, an uncharacteristic glint of hope flashing across his face. "Truly?"

Lilian raised an eyebrow at his reaction, her expression betraying mild surprise. Excitement was not an emotion Feo wore often—or well.

His excitement was fleeting; his face quickly shifted back to its usual guarded mask as he stood and walked toward her, towering over her smaller frame. "Why?" he demanded, his tone rough but edged with genuine curiosity.

"The why doesn’t matter," Lilian replied firmly. "What matters is that I believe the two of you could benefit from this. You’re a raging mess, Azzy. He could ground you."

Feo’s jaw clenched, his temper flaring. Ground him? From what? Letting his anger at self-righteous fools manifest? From taking action when others hesitated?

"Don’t look at me like that," Lilian said, cutting through his unspoken indignation. "He’s waiting in the gardens near the flight classes. And before you say anything—no, you will not hurt him. That includes physically, emotionally, or mentally. I made a promise to Milo. You’ll make one, too."

Feo opened his mouth to retort, his anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface, but he stopped short as he felt a familiar warmth coil around his neck.

Varmire.

The serpent’s calming presence eased the tension in his shoulders, though his jaw remained tight. Feo inhaled deeply, letting the sensation settle him.

"Fine," he muttered after a beat, the word low but resolute. He met Lilian’s eyes, and she let out a small, relieved breath.

"Good," she said simply, stepping aside to give him room. "You know where to find me if you need me."

Feo gave her a glance—equal parts acknowledgment and resignation—before stepping through the doorway. As he made his way outside, his body shifted, shrinking and morphing until sleek black feathers replaced flesh and bone.

The raven took flight, Varmire coiled securely around his form. He soared over the flight classes, the wind rushing through his feathers as he surveyed the gardens below. After a moment, his keen eyes caught a glimmer of white—Lucius’s feathers gleaming in the sunlight.

Circling once to steady himself, Feo descended, his talons finding purchase on a bush behind Lucius. Folding his wings neatly, he perched there, watching the boy intently.

This was it. No turning back now.

Feo braced himself for the inevitable discomfort of what was to come.

Lilian's attempt by consoling him wasn't going to work as well as she had hoped. Lucius... she didn't know him, not like he did. The blind optimism behind those white wings that disappeared into the sky. The refusal to accept that anything had a finite destiny, the desire to be and bring new and fresh starts--he just couldn't bring himself to believe that one was really fixed in their course of action.

As she turned, Milo followed with brown eyes. "Don't make promises you can't keep," he finally said wearily, "I don't want any blood on my hands--certainly not yours."

Don't start planning funerals--no. No, he'd be preparing for many, many trips to the medical building laced with the demigods. As much as she wanted her words to matter, Milo was laced with doubt. That was his natural state of being when in the throws of worry, everything had to be doubted unless it had a tried and true practice of working. Where he didn't really know Lilian or her relation to the demigods of Loki, he couldn't help but worry anyways.

All he had was hope and worry. Perhaps that was something more than what he had before.

--

Lucius set his bag down on the ground, looking around. He knew that the other young woman still had to let Feo know that he was there in the first place. How much time that would take? That wasn't entirely clear to Lucius as he stood in place for a moment.

In the peace of the garden, without prying eyes, he set his bag down. In all reality, the winged demigod was a bit sore from the rush of the escapade the day prior. He took a few moments to stretch out, reaching downward, working through sore muscles and feathers. Vibrant white wings that reached for the air and the sky above them with his fingers. His sapphire eyes squinted just slightly against the light--catching the black raven that swept through the sky to land on the bush nearby.

Normally, he wouldn't have paid much attention to the raven... but the snake was a touch of a surprise. That was what had initially caught his gaze. Lucius lowered his feathers and his arms to his side, settling into a rather relaxed posture.

"So, your name is Asrifeon," Lucius began talking, rather confident and loose. "I guess we talk or something?" He shrugged one shoulder, waving the same hand.

After a moment or two, his eyes flicked to the side and then to the ground. Chewing on the inside of his lip, Lucius tried to work through his thoughts before he sighed. "Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't really mean to run into you--that was a rather poor thing. You really didn't have to step in at all, I should've been able to hold my own. But thank you and, at the same time, I'm sorry."

With the way Lilian had talked him up, the raven in front of him was... less than chilling. The snake was a little offsetting but not terrifying in the slightest. In all reality, Lucius felt a bit silly just talking to the raven and hoping it was actually the demigod.

The air between them remained still for a long moment, filled only with the faint rustle of leaves and the soft hiss of the golden-scaled serpent coiled around Feo’s neck. The raven perched silently, listening, as if gathering its thoughts.

Then, with a shimmer of motion, Feo shifted back into their humanoid form, their lithe frame settling cross-legged on the cool grass. Varmire slithered gracefully down their arm, her scales gleaming faintly in the dappled sunlight. They stroked her absentmindedly, drawing warmth from her presence.

It was strange, Feo thought, how cold they felt whenever they allowed themself to look at or even think about Lucius. A peculiar chill that sank deeper than the physical, something they couldn’t quite explain.

"There is no need to apologize," they said at last, their voice unexpectedly even. The control in their tone was deliberate, a far cry from the irritation or anger that usually colored their words when speaking to those outside their small circle of trust. Their gaze remained fixed on Varmire, refusing to meet Lucius’s eyes. "What is there to apologize for? I could argue that I bumped into you."

They paused, their mind circling back to yesterday’s events. The words on the tip of their tongue felt sharp, pointed, but they swallowed them, remembering Lilian’s warning. No hurting him. Not physically, not mentally.

"You aren't wrong that you should have been able to stick up for yourself, though," they continued, their tone lighter, though there was a flicker of something unspoken in his expression. They hesitated, catching themself mid-sentence. "That was quite p—" Feo cut themself off abruptly, biting back whatever word had been forming. They exhaled sharply through their nose and forced a tight smile. "You're welcome," they finished, their words clipped.

The quiet that followed pressed down on them, heavy and oppressive. They weren't used to this kind of silence—one that demanded to be filled. They shifted uncomfortably, their fingers tracing idle patterns along Varmire’s scales.

"She pushed me into this," Feo muttered finally, breaking the quiet. Their voice was softer now, almost bitter. "It was Lilian’s fault. I can only assume you don’t want to be here any more than I do." They let out a short, humorless laugh. "We’re awkward, and weird, and, frankly, I don’t want to be around you. Which isn’t anything personal," they added quickly, though their tone suggested otherwise. "I just don’t want to be around anyone."

They continued to run their fingers over Varmire, the repetitive motion grounding them as their thoughts churned.

After a long sigh, Feo glanced up briefly, their expression caught somewhere between resignation and frustration. "What does she even expect us to do? Bond?" They shook their head, muttering almost to themself. "This is stupid."

But the words that lingered unspoken in their mind stung sharper than they expected. Stupid, maybe. But not entirely unwelcome.